#Chains of Destiny OC

[anxietytwist]

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏

[ xx | 𝟼'𝟷" | Cis Female | Bisexual | ...❤️... ]

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

𝕾𝖙𝖞𝖑𝖊

“Stola”

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

///

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘

ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ➙ She/Her ʙᴜɪʟᴅ➙ 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 (despite the waifish air she likes to put on) ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴꜱ➙ “𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘺” ᴘʀɪᴢᴇᴅ ɢɪꜰᴛ➙ A dagger forged by her father (she keeps it strapped to her thigh)

The all-consuming rage 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕 felt being faced with 𝑺𝒚𝒌𝒆𝒔' dying body (after losing 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒂 & being mocked by 𝑬𝒓𝒊𝒄) cause her to violently kill him before being brought back to her senses...she doesn't regret doing it, only the fact she couldn't do the same to 𝑬𝒓𝒊𝒄 🔪

Most of her time not spent studying or training is with 𝑳𝒖𝒏𝒂 & the other horses ♡🐴

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕 is not a fan of children—even when she was one herself—they're too sticky & loud (she can only tolerate long interactions with ones she's already familiar with, but she's NEVER cruel to kids...just physically distant) 😖

After the traumatic loss of 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒂 & 𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒐, she's become very protective of 𝑱𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒂, always on guard when they're around strangers😒 (despite 𝑵𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒐'𝒔 constant presence at her side)

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕 has always been sensitive to loud noises

...

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕 means “𝑃𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙” (French)

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

𝐼𝐹: @chains-of-destiny

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

Picrew used:

[astraldrake]

"Tell me, machine spawn. How many more of my people will you sacrifice in the name of your traitor god?" "As many as you send against me. I will not allow you to raise arms against the Great Machine." -excerpt from a conversation between Eramis and Ahkris, shortly before their duel on Europa.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - Masterlist

Chains of Destiny - Logan x Mutant F!OC

(Series) Summary: Eva, a young mutant experimented on in a lab, possesses powerful but dangerous abilities. Found by the X-men she need to learn to find meaning in live again. Along Wolverine, who isn't really her biggest fun.

(Series) Content Warning: mean Logan, like he's actually a jerk at the begining. Hurt, comfort, pain, angst (hell a lot of it), mentions of torture, experiments, violence, mentiones of suicide/wanting to die, supportive!Logan, enemies to friends to lovers, did I mention angst, possible smut, sweet!Logan.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗 (** indicates smut)

CHAPTER ONE: Eva

CHAPTER TWO: Decision

[lunar-wandering]

HELLO EVERYONE AND WELCOME TO: THE MONKIE DESTINY CHALLENGE!!!!!

For the month of October, there shall be a daily prompt! These are dual prompts, you may choose one or the other, or simply do both!! It's your choice, have fun with it!!

GUIDELINES:

Please attempt to keep this event SFW, so that everyone may join in!!!

Ships and OCs are Allowed!!! Have fun!!!

You may do Art or Writing- or simply whatever creation this inspires you to do!!!

Tag every post with #Monkie Destiny Challenge 2023, so that we may all see your creations!!

Note: I shall release a Discord Server Link on Thursday, September 28th!!! This is by no means obligatory, but if you'd like to join, you may! Once the month is over, the server shall swap to weekly prompts.

In case anyone is incapable of reading the prompts in the image above, I have written them down under the cut. Have Fun Everyone!!!

Beginning / End

Fire / Ice

Patience / Focus

Peaches / Thief

Shatter / Weapon

Show / Fear

Lies / Truth

Mountain / Chains

Day / Night

Crown / Curse

Havoc / Chaos

Sword / Shadow

Family / Enemy

Fireworks / Stars

Spiders / Ghosts

Bug / Wifi

Song / Future

Dance / Past

Silence / Present

Horse / Dragon

Delivery / Monkey

Clone / Ink

Tragedy / Comedy

Game / Fight

Magic / Trick

Noodles / Home

Demons / Gods

Key / Bones

Amnesia / Gold

Hero / Warrior

End / Beginning (Free Day!!)

[ay0nha]

LIFE IS BUT A DREAM | SHANKS (OPLA)

SUMMARY: You had done unspeakable things, figuring it was an acceptable way to siphon your affection. You were young and blinded by false idolization. Shanks chose to see the best in you, even now, even after everything. He, too, was blinded by an image of you that hadn’t changed since you were young. 

PAIRING: OPLA!Shanks x f!reader (Gold D. Roger's daughter)

WORDS COUNT: 3K~

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, enemies to lovers, jail, talk of death and things related, morally grey reader, ANGST, RUSHED ending, flowery language, injuries, blood, murder, random ocs (aka fictional villains inserts), idk really what the plot is besides just straight angst lol, etc.

A/N: I got a couple of Shanks requests, so I combined them all as they were very similar. Thank you SO much to @wood-white-writer for inspiring my reader and helping me along, and @togenabi for entertaining my rambling! I'm begging you to go check out their fics because they are *divine*. Enjoy.

The waves that thrust against the coast lulled you into a meditative state. It made the time pass with uncertainty. Even the briny smell of the warm breeze cradled you in a way that pulled the weight from your shoulders. 

You never thought jail to be so idyllic. 

It was tempting to postpone your escape for a bit longer; there were only so many opportunities to stretch your spine and rest.  Yet, your left eye twitched, warning you your premonition was soon to be true. 

It was on the simpler side, a vision of dark shadows intentionally elusive. The bars that separated you from the world were bent, promising damage from the strength that wasn’t your own. You knew he was coming. It was sooner than you thought, but you learned long ago that your foresight would never be reliable.

It favored him over you. 

When you were younger, you thought you were crazy, seeing apparitions or former lives. However, as years passed, familiar faces began to fill your vision, showing truths you became excited to fulfill. But they became warped with opposing desires and reverberating fear wreathed with vindication. 

It made things sour and sore. It allowed trouble to seek you out just to be ill-prepared for your counter. It wasn’t bravery that energized you, nor was it skill.  Pure spite drove you to be the worst of all. 

“On your feet.”

The serenity you had slipped through your fingers like warm sand. The guard repeated his command, using force to pull at the chains connecting your limbs. You couldn’t help but smile at what he thought was a punishment. 

“Rumor has it, you’re hot shit.” The guard scoffed, voice echoing the dripping hallways.  The way he trailed your body exposed his lust.  “They’re not wrong by the looks of it…” 

The guard’s weak come-ons warbled in your ears like a white noise. You used the moment to fulfill a repeated daydream. That liminal space presented your strength as you pulled your chains around the guard’s neck until there was no longer resistance. 

The conversations were typically cyclical, feigned disinterest to disguise the anxiety your proximity created or those whose egos convinced they could charm you. You stopped paying attention to the rumors the more embellished they became. To some, you were a mercenary; to others, a frenzied psychopath.  

The only truth they held was how deliberately unrestrained you were willing to be. There was no rhyme or reason behind it; at least you were close to convincing yourself of that. Regardless, it had gotten you far, the only thing you’d even consider reliable. 

“You hear something?” The guard perked, pulling you harshly toward him. How brave of him to use me as a shield, you thought. Your attention returned when it sounded again, “Shit!— 

The bang was loud—time had bested you. 

You were lucky to recognize the canon’s whistle and use the commotion to regain an advantage. The current reality had yet to become your destiny. If you moved quickly enough, you wouldn’t have to catch your death in such a dilapidated place. 

Maneuvering your body unnaturally, you felt for the knife hidden on your thigh. The guard was panicking despite training not to split on whether to keep his eyes on you or the trouble you unknowingly caused. 

Using his momentary stupor, your chains wrapped tightly around his throat. It was better than any dream to feel the way the air caught in his body, never to be released. Any lingering struggle stopped when your knife found an artery. 

The blood sputtered, feeling warm against your hands. It was messy, but its carnality evoked an almost erotic sensation that was inimitable. Plenty felt power connected to the strength it took to take away something vital. It corrupted them and blinded them from the true potentiality of the action. 

It made life seem like nothing more than overflowing fragility. It was well-known time with the world and sea was limited, and eventually, everyone would end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. There was a purposeful lack of originality there solely due to fear of change. 

Yet, when one danced with death, you became the music.

You wiped your fingers across your neck, rubbing the tight knots that met at your shoulders. The fresh blood would stain your skin, but you craved a performance. You readied yourself for the approaching marine boots. The staging was almost too believable, but every second was convincing. 

“Fuck. Fuck—” The words tumbled from your quivering lip. You couldn’t think of anything else, repeating the curse. You smeared the blood on your shirt, a mindless move to rid yourself of taking someone’s life. “Help me, please. This man—I don’t—he came after me—the others are still back there, they’ll be here any moment—I didn’t know what to do—

“Still with the theatrics, eh?”

Your crocodile tears ceased to stream down your cheeks. The feigned, horrified expression turned into an unearthed fury. Shame on you for missing the stray red hairs at the nape of the guard’s neck. 

“Shanks.” You greeted dryly. “You’re early.” 

It was hard for Shanks to meet your eye. He was far from intimidated, but the wild look in your eyes made him hesitate. The years had been kind to you as if you traded your soul for youth. But it was a foolish thought that the devil would be so naive to make a deal with you. 

“Was that necessary?” Shanks nodded to the man behind you. 

“And I thought the canons were a bit excessive.” You tutted as if your opposing opinions were trivial. “And yet here we are…”

“Love—

You hadn’t believed in love, and you were ready to carry that grudge—until him. It wasn’t proper love, proving your skepticism in the emotion correctly. But it was the closest you’ve ever been, could ever be. 

You had done unspeakable things, figuring it was an acceptable way to siphon your affection. You were young and blinded by false idolization. Shanks chose to see the best in you, even now, even after everything. He, too, was blinded by an image of you that hadn’t changed since you were young. 

“Let’s get this on with,” You stopped him, moving swiftly to feel the body below you for anything valuable. “Tumole gave me up, then? That’s how you found me? Bastard.”

You smiled at the image: Shanks holding the poor man upside down, kindness still in his threats to find you. Violence was never necessary with Tumole, always one to ramble away anyone’s secret for safety. However, it was as though you subconsciously left a clue, but you knew the crumbs Shanks found weren’t worth it. 

“You really wasted your crew’s time on me...” You stood, pulling your neck until it popped. It had been a while since you had a one-on-one with Shanks, but you knew he’d always pull his punches. “Must really be desperate—

“I won’t fight you.” He tracked your posture. Your exterior was calm, but with every twitch calculated, you were nearing rabid. “It’s not worth it.”

“Tell me, then, what I’m worth to you, Shanks?” You taunted. It was obvious what he wanted to say: saving. His emotion was always his weakness. 

His pause was intentional, stalling of sorts to let the exchange sink in. Standing under Shanks ' gaze, your body had a new form of reprieve. A facade wasn’t necessary, but you weren’t willing to lose more of yourself to another. 

Your anger dissipated into a haze. It pulled a frown from Shanks as your breathing steadied only to slow. The harder you blinked, the more you forgot your argument. Even if you had held onto it, the lump in your throat wouldn’t allow it to exist. 

Shanks’ lips shaped your name, but all you could hear was a mild ringing, a buzz. His step forward elicited an instinct to step back. 

“Don’t—” You spat. Your left arm was like static, numb from the shoulder down, an ironic consequence of dismissing your opposite. “—fucking touch me.” 

Your vision was the last to go, allowing you to watch yourself crumble; your knees locked, and the palm of your hands broke your fall, exposing how blood pooled from your arm. When did that happen? It had nothing to do with pain tolerance or adrenaline; you were distracted by your vision, doing what you could to change its form. 

However, your effort was useless to make sense of it. You read it wrong; forgetting things such as foresight was rarely linear. As the world around you closed in, clouding your vision, you realized the open bars weren’t an entrance to your cell. Rather, it was the exit Shanks carried you through with success. 

You were never destined to win. 

—

The dream always teased you with muddled memories.  

They always started the same, a mirrored image of the room you grew up in. Only a few feet separated the sacks the headmistress would call your beds. Your fingertips felt the scratchy fabric of the cheap blankets. 

When the dreams first began, you believed they were real, that you’d never left the dormitory of the dingy children’s home. But the feeling of the monochrome bedding was always wrong, your dream never quite getting the textures correct.  So, there was no room for nostalgia. 

It was as if you were stuck in a loop, hand rhythmically gliding across the bedding in hopes of softening it.  It was neither tranquil nor eerie. Its structure was that of a fever dream, its kaleidoscope quality provoking you to interpret it.  

Its symbolization didn’t go past you, but it always felt uninvolved—superficial even. At the time, your child wonderment knew no difference between the life you had and the life you were meant to exist in. 

As any child did, you dreamed of silks and decadent food. Candies and luxuries. You dreamed of family and warmth. Hope drove those fantasies, but there was no point in clinging to hope when you found out you weren’t wanted. 

Gol D. Roger. Pirate King. The name circled every coastal town and seeped into every deep forest. His mirth was enviable, and his skill indomitable. You wanted to hold indifference toward him, but every bounty you saw enamored you. He made hope seem regainable. 

You looked down at your hand, seeing your hand change shape with each slow swipe across the bed. Your slender fingers became older, calloused. Experienced. Moving to see the palm, you saw the lifeline had ended and an elaborate red sleeve scratched at your—Gol D. Roger’s—wrist. 

You flinched as if you were burnt. You wanted to rid yourself of the attachment by any means. But it didn’t matter when your blood was intertwined. There was no escaping your lineage, your father. 

The longer you lingered with the feeling, your surroundings slowly morphed. A wind picked up but hadn’t raised chills across your arms—not yet. You wanted to stretch now that your hand became your own again. 

However, a sway lulled you into your environment. The ships were always different,  never ones you recognized. You’d like to praise your brain’s creativity, but you knew you’d step foot on every deck at some point in life. If you were smart, you would have noted each and every one. It was hard to when the horizon seemed so…

“The tide is strange…” You hummed. Although your voice vibrated in your chest, it felt delayed, like an echo of someone else. 

A hand trailed your spine with warmth. Goosebumps littered your body. You hadn’t thought to fight them, knowing the touch belonged to someone who put far too much faith in you. 

“Am I finally rubbing off on you?” Shanks matched your hum, creating more serenity than you could handle. It was purposeful to calm you and invite you in. 

“No, no…” You echoed again, shaking your head. Shanks continued with his charm, making promises that the sea and he could fulfill. However, your eyes didn’t leave the shore, the tide much more vast than you’ve ever seen. “...no, there’s—There’s something changing it.” You paused, nausea hitting you boldly. “...someone…maybe? Don’t you feel that?”

Another laugh, more hollow than the last. You had yet to face Shanks, only trusting his touch. It started to burn when you finally turned to him. He was physically present, but his eyes were vacant as if a copy of himself. 

“Love, just try and relax.” His smile was plastered, almost painfully. “Nothing's wrong anymore. Nothing will change—

You frowned. “Shanks—

“She won’t hurt us.” Shanks caught you in his hold. You finally understood the deception and recognized the wolf in sheep’s clothing. “She gave me her word.”  

—

You jolted awake.

The image wasn’t explicit, but it made you squirm; your back arched against the deck’s railing until your fingertips touched the waves below. You never sunk or floated, but you breathed in the water and felt it swallow you whole with a salty taste. 

Your chest was tight, careful not to suck in your breath too quickly. Despite still being bleary-eyed, you knew you weren’t alone. You knotted your fingers in the bed’s fabric to ground you. The room's scent reminded you to breathe before succumbing to your subconscious torture again. 

“You alright?” Shanks called from the deepest corner of the room. He was swift to strike a match to see your condition for himself. 

The candlelight illuminated the gauze that nurtured your stiff arm. Shanks reprimanded you slightly as you pushed yourself up. Shanks knew you well, understanding that you were already seeking an escape from whatever plagued you. The look in your eye told him you would run regardless of a purpose.  

“What did you see?” His voice remained calm, tone unwavering with vigilance. 

“I didn’t.” Your defiance was your only form of defense on his ship. 

Slight relief came from how Shank’s eyebrow dared to twitch with frustration. It meant he was real. Your blood pumped slower at the unorthodox respite. You continued to move, to stand despite your sore body. Shanks was still blocking your way to the door, but you paced lightly to rid yourself of the jitters. 

“You can talk to me.” Shanks knew you were frazzled, and he was determined to coax the cause out of you. “I understand why you’re—

“Daddy dearest has nothing to do with this.” You hissed, hating the assumption. “Don’t you understand there was a reason your beloved captain left me to rot all those years ago? When will you learn to do the same?”

Shanks didn’t lack sympathy for you, but he understood why your father chose to keep you away from the life that proved only to hurt you. Shanks intended to keep the promise he made to you before you learned it was by the instruction of your father. 

“I gave my word.” Shanks countered. His word choice made you flinch, your dream still fresh. He softened to repeat himself. “I gave my word to keep you safe. This has nothing to do with —

“Safe with a pirate, eh?” You scoffed, picking up what was most likely a stolen treasure. You held no qualms with his lifestyle, but you refused the overlap Shanks wanted to share. “That’ll be the fucking day.”

You felt a needle of pain in your nose like you were near tears, the guilt settling the bile in your throat. The game of cat and mouse was getting old. It was a facetious argument you used for distraction. The bravado you held was angry and vengeful. 

“I know you’ve heard the rumors…” Shanks sighed as if his strategy to coax a conversation out of you backfired. “Cain is spreading out, searching for you. She won’t stop this time.”

You dropped the small object of treasure back into its place. Any emotion was swallowed and digested. There was little energy left to pretend to argue. You needed to leave the room before you suffocated. Shanks wouldn’t block if you tried. 

You lingered, waiting for him to spit out the obvious.  “Look, I know you saw her— 

“I felt her.” Your expression, even mixed with vulnerability, was composed with passivity. Your composure could fool most, but to a trained eye, your discomfort was obvious.

Your admission was desperate, breaking a tension that had filled the air. You wouldn’t crumble. You tried to hold it in, breathing evenly to suppress any sobbing urge. It was neither the time nor the place for added emotion.

“I need to know the full story.” He replied thoughtfully. 

He mistook his demeanor for bravery, but his true bravery formed by being across from you. The only barrier seemed to be Shanks’ incorruptible moral code, a space where you couldn’t quite freely exist.

You wanted so badly to trust him. You sought his comfort. The feeling felt foreign, so you prickled. 

“You already know how it ends. What does the rest matter?” You always leaned on pessimism. “I want nothing to do with this. With her.”

“I’ll be beside you the entire time,” Shanks promised, voice low and steady, reflecting his sincerity. You could make out the warmth he was willing to share, but you couldn’t accept it wholly.

“And my interests?”

Shanks’ expression fell slightly at your evasive rejection. “It depends on where they lie.”

In an ideal world, you’d like to think you and Shanks could be friends. Frankly, though, his compassion made you nauseous. Or maybe it was nerves. The feeling was always hard for you to distinguish. You wished the way he looked at you would warm your chest, but it only reminded you of how that was another impossibility.

Although you were still present, Shanks watched you flee. Your guard returned stronger, but he didn’t regret his words. Shanks’ eyes were pleading, and you went to chastise him, but you found something distinct there. 

You didn’t know what to do with it, but to muse a buried thought. "...Empathy will get you killed, Shanks.”

“Then, I am a dead man walking.”

[cookierunauprompts]

Im tryna cook here so hear me out on this : what if SMC(shadow milk cookie)​&reader are in the same trope of Rudolph​&Catherine from dangerously yours?(it may not be same-same kidda wipe cuz I didn't watch the movie yet lol(srry not srry))​ : It's started from reader got send by the witches to spy keep eyes on the old ancients(before corrupted-after corrupted)​but suddenly reader fell in love with one of them(aka SMC)​and so do he,but then after he and the other got corrupted he become obsessed toward them(obviously)​but then he started to realized that the witches are planing to seal him and the other fallen ancient​s away cause​ of their actions of being corrupted and cause choas on earthbeard, so he conveice reader to tell him how to get to the witches(reader's witches spy and have their own specific way to contact/went to face the witches)​ and get him and his friends revenge on the witches but reader ran away instead and not telling him,and in the end they met each other​ again at the silver tree where the witches was going to seal them in and the line between reader&shadow milk will be like : "your time is up" "do you think actually going to let it happen?to let them seal me?to seal us?!" "..i mean just that" "....... well then go ahead" "i'll get this over with" "You won't do it,you won't let this happen...you won't because you love me."-"it takes a very brave and and a very cold person to do that,(y/c/n)"-"I don't think you can..."

Note / I think amma gonna end it here and I'll let u imagine it on ur own😭actually it was gonna be longer than this but I accidentally delete half of it so my lazy ass just tell me to get this over with😔(no any​one's oc x canon pls I beg u(Im srry))​

throwing this into the Warden Reader AU, because silly.

Requested Prompts #44 - 💔💓

The words of the witches ring through your head as you stand ready in your position. " You have to be there, Reader Cookie." They had said. " For you are the only one who can see through his deception, it's how we know that the seal will truly work on them all." You knew what they'd really meant, but it was whatever. This was your purpose, what you were made for. There was no defying your own destiny when your were chained to it. It was an anchor dragging you down into the abyss of the sea, dread it, run from it, hide from it all you wish but it will still drag you down all the same. And then, you saw him. Your destiny made personified right in front of you in the form of a far too large blue cookie. Shadow Milk Cookie, the Cookie of Deceit as Elder Faerie had put it. The grin he wore was wide, yet not open enough to look insane as it usually did. His eyes were focused on you, keeping track of each and every action you took and each reaction you displayed. Such analysis befitted the former Cookie of Knowledge, but only fragments of the past were left in the beast before you. He'd strayed from how the witches made him due to the power of the soul jam, all of them had. You steel yourself after a mere millisecond of hesitation, pointing your spear at him with determination. " Your time is up." You coldly announced, not daring to let anything else slip into your tone. He'll use anything to get the upper hand, all you need to do is to distract him until the seal is prepared. His grin widened. " You mean you're actually going through with this? You're actually sticking by them, even though they're betraying you?" He asked, almost mockingly in tone. You knew not to search his expression for a hint of genuineness in his expression like you did in the past, and yet you did for just a moment. And maybe there was something, but you stopped yourself from looking. " ... I mean just that." You replied. You watched as he shrunk down, each step he got smaller and smaller until he was just a bit taller than you. " Well by all means, go ahead my dear." He said almost cruelly, taunting you by laying his head upon the tip of your spear. You hesitate, " This will be your finale." you state to his amusement. He smiled, an airy chuckle seeping through his lips. " You won't do it, you can't bring yourself to let this happen. All because you love me." The beast taunts, pressing his neck closer to the blade in a way that was just enough to draw forth a few droplets of his blueberry jam. " It takes a very brave and cold cookie to do that, I don't think you can."

----

Or, what happened before the witches sealed the beasts in the Warden!Reader timeline, and during.

[bearlytolerant]

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @thevikingwoman thank you!

These are from a wip and it’s Gwyn from dragons dogma 2. Putting below the cut for length.

1. “A senseless request when you are all that consumes my thoughts now.”

2. Ah, another pretty boy in distress. Shall I throw you over my shoulder then?”

3. “You can leave, if you wish. Know I would miss you dearly, if you choose that path, but my joy is brightest when you are defying what destiny has ordained for you.” She reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. “And you shine brightest when your actions are of your own volition.”

4. “Raise your hand against her again and I’ll wear your fingers as charms on a chain around my neck.”

5. “Now if I told you that, it would no longer be a well kept secret now, would it?”

6. “Do you three gossip about me as well while I am away?”

7. “Have you lost your senses?” She reels on him in the dark recesses of the dim lit halls, a draft sending a chill down her spine and raising the hairs on her neck. “Times such as these require playing the part of the feckless dullard. Either play the part with me or wait here.”

8. “No, it does not bother me that he takes Disa to his bed. In another world perhaps—“ She laughs. “I have always enjoyed a bit of sugar with my cream.”

9. “If this is my destiny,” she spits, fists balled in seething anger. “If this is only what I was made for in this world, then perhaps I should unmake this world.”

10. She hovers in the doorway, eyes fixated on the bandit leader. “You can milk him all day but I believe this billy goat is better repurposed for slaughter.”

11. “Fear grips my heart nearly every waking hour, but when we are yoked together, I know only courage.”

12. “Senseless from the moment I met you.” She tsks. “You are a fool to think my heart does not ache for you. Not just your touch but those words whispered and carried off by the winds during our midnight trysts.” She takes another brave step toward him. “I miss you and long for you. I did the night we met and even more so now.”

13. “Have you seen the view from here? How unfortunate to have been made arisen. I should have liked to have been made with wings.”

14. “I hear the brine calling and it sounds like it’s begging for supper,” she says and delivers an arrow to its eye.

15. “His objective is dubious at best but I admire him. Though I believe his thorough research methods could be used for better means, his spirit is unwavering in resolve.” She offers a wry grin. “And I’m not just saying that because he carries the same resolve in the bedroom.”

Tagging @ellstersmash @fangbangerghoul @lisa-and-shadow @myreia @staticpallour @a-cosmic-elf @roguelioness and anyone else who sees this and would like to do this for their oc (and no obligations of course)!

[roselyn-writing]

My OCs and Symbols/Shapes I associate them with!

A/N: Some of Symbols/Shapes meaning are made by me, I brainstormed my brain for these ideas and meanings. Also, pic isn’t mine, I found it in Pinterest.

Aliyaa Aepel: Circle, Heart, Black feathers.

Circle means: Unity, Heart means: Love and Compassion, Black feathers represent Darkness in Virginia.

Scylla: Triangle, Daggers.

Triangle means: Stability and Power. Daggers represent pure blood-lust in Virginia.

Arouj Roman: Demon eye, Yin and Yang, Trefoil.

Demon Eye: In Virginia; It represents demons and their ranks. Yin and Yang: Balance between two opposite things good and evil, Light and Darkness.

In Virginia Trefoil represents the seeker of redemption.

Simone Decrōnt: Rhombus/Diamond, Crescent and purple feathers.

In Virginia Rhombus represents Royalty and Prestige, Diamond represent power and Cresent represent the ‘good well’.

Purple feathers represent the reboundness of one’s soul An rising up against the odds.

Hadi Aepel: Square, Oval, Octagon. Arrow with Cirle.

Square means stability, fixed nature of matter, Strong foundations.

Oval represents: Immortality and infinity.

Octagon in Virginia represents good well and honesty. Arrow with Circle represents love for adventure and trips.

Eevie Al’shayle: Hexagon, Arrow, Pentagon, Decagon.

In Virginia, Arrow represents the change of one’s perspective of life; specifically, changes for the better, Personal growth, And the relentless pursuing of one’s true desires and goals.

Hexagon represents Harmony, Pentagon represents: Mutual recognition and good well. Decagon represents sincerity and innocence.

Selviya Levsloky: Infinity, Star, Key. Infinity represents immortality, Star represents hope and good well, Key represents liberation, never giving up.

Derek Monrik: Arrow, Hexagon, Spade ♠️.

In Virginia, Arrow represents the change of one’s perspective of life; specifically, changes for the better, Personal growth, And the relentless pursuing of one’s true desires and goals. Hexagon represents Harmony. Spade represents swords which represent strength and power. Spade In spirituality represents intellect, Action.

Ardin Kayuel: Four-leaf Clovers, Shamrock, Quatrefoil.🍀☘️

Four-leaf Clovers represent luck and fortune. Shamrock represents good well and mercy, hope and love.

Quatrefoil also represent good luck and fortune and well intentions.

Harumi Rose: Mystic Knot, Dragon, Yin and Yang too. Mystic knot represents: A harmonious flow of auspicious energy uninterrupted by any setbacks, misfortunes or accidents, This represents Harumi Rose so much.

Dragon represents: Strength, Wisdom and Power.

Yin and Yang: The balance between two opposite things Light and Darkness, Good and Evil.

Satoshi Hasashi: Chains, Torch, Pagoda, Yin and Yang as well. Chains: Represents connections and attachments, Imprisonment, A shared destiny and Eternity. Which resembles Satoshi Hasashi So well when he becomes the Grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu.

Torch: Freedom and liberty.

Pagoda represents: The path heightened awareness and heightened perception, Which Satoshi will learn later on.

Yin and Yang: The balance between two opposite things Light and Darkness, Good and Evil.

I will add more to this post!

[kysukioshi]

Concordia

Neteyam x fem!Na’vi OC

summary: a tale of love, redemption and betrayal; Neteyam and Tsuk'ami, two Na'vi from rival clans share a past forged in the innocence of a childhood friendship. Tensions between their clans rise as they strive to rewrite a destiny that fate has woven for them.

warnings: this story may contain violence, smut and swearing, so if you're not comfortable with those topics, please don't interact.

Story Masterlist

………………………………

Part Three - Veiled Portents

Tsuk’ami was always told she was a dreamer. She always focused on the irrational, the fairy tales and the myths, and how easily it could be her weakness. She was told she should wake up, and focus on the realities everyone had to face in order to survive—especially since she was the future of Soluna; the next generation.

At some point in her teenage-hood, she put her reading and writing hobbies aside. The judgement from her clan’s elders was too much for her to swallow. But as she got older, she embraced it.. kind off.

She hid her writing cloths and papers, but she no longer felt embarrassed to admit it to herself. She crafted vivid narratives, intricate stories of the resilience of the Na’vi people, the wars and the ages of peace, as well as some romance. One thing in particular she was proud of, was her character Txi.

She liked to think of Txi as her alter ego. Txi was brave, and she was a strong leader that led her people to freedom and peace from the external threats.

Txi was the embodiment of Tsuk’ami’s aspirations. Those desires were not only about her fantasies of fighting in a war, they were also about her mother. She wanted her mother to know Tsuk’ami’s limits— to see how much Tsuk’ami was actually capable of.

Now that Tsuk’ami met Neteyam, her deepest desire reignited itself again, making her curious to all the secrets and stories other clans had to share.

Her clan had its traditions, which consisted of the people knowing only about their clan. The knowledge wasn’t limited only to the leaders, and she knew she couldn’t wait that long to find out. She also knew where such informations could be kept.

…

In the middle of the night, Tsuk’ami slipped out of her family’s hut, trying to go unnoticed as she walked to her mothers study chambers— guided by the curiosity of her mother’s extensive collection of historical tomes and scrolls.

She moved the linen door flap, walking in and carefully, as if not to leave evidence, looking around the room. She crouched near a section of a shelf, which had ‘confidential’ written on stone above it. She cautiously looked through the neatly arranged scrolls and papers, her fingers tracing over each title as she worded it quietly.

Her hand brushed over a certain scroll, the wood handle old and dusty, with an engraved ‘narratives of the neighbours’.

Tsuk’ami became frustrated as she began to read. The first few segments of the long texts spoke only of customs and bygone eras she had already heard of. But as she dove deeper into the lengths of the scroll, she delved into accounts that spoke of conflict and alliances.

“The Tipani tribe, always stood protectors to the borders of many clans they bordered. Their domain veiled in the mist of the treetops. Their resilient tales bore stories of great craftsmanship, which had helped these people fight like true warriors, and succeeded in many wars. The alliance between the Tipani and Soluna were always helpful both ways. Soluna had provided them with passage, as well as supply pathways for their own, personal use.”

She ran her fingers over the additional, unimportant parts of the text

“Unfortunately, due to disputes and let downs, both sides decided to end their long term partnership, and Soluna declined any further supply chain support.”

“But what then?” Tsuk’ami whispered angrily. Those were no answers to her. What could have prompted them to cut their connections?

She scrolled through other texts, all until she found one titled ‘the lost tribe’

“The Omatikaya tribe had once had all eyes on it. Their borders held beautiful nature within them, which is why they were called what they were called; Omatikaya— blessed by Eywa. They had always been spiritual leaders, powerful and smart healers. Many of their leaders even rode the great Toruk. They had amazing supplies of food, as their grounds were rich with minerals and other supplements that produced good quality foods.

The Omatikaya, however, chose a wrong path. Their opportunities to prosper washed away as they let a demon enter their lands, mate their royalty and lead them. Although Tsyeyk te Suli lead wars and even rode the great Toruk, he still should have not been elected for Olo’eyktan.”

Tsuk’ami’s eyes were wide. That was it? Even after such information she was left in a cusp of revelation. Jake Sully, she thought. Neteyam’s father. She still answers, closure. She threw the scroll down as frustration welled within her.

How was Jake Sully allowed to the Omatikaya? What had changed their minds?

...

Neytiri’s footsteps were quiet in the echoing halls of the hallow hometree. She walked to the communal hut, moving with pride, as she always did. Her shoulders were pushed back, tail high, and braids neatly placed behind her ears.

She walked through the beaded doors, the elders standing to greet her, their gazes respectively turned towards the floor.

She walked around the round table, stopping at her eldest son’s side.

Neteyam’s gaze followed his mother, watching her sit right beside him. They shared a meaningful look, knowing both of them hated being there. Jake had left that hate club a couple years back, as he had gotten used to spending hours on end in that room, on that wooden chair, with those same babbling elders.

“Neteyam” he heard his mother’s soft voice, whisper quietly under the loud chatted “I know it is draining, but we must focus”

“Sorry” Neteyam murmured before he sat back, his ears perked at the never ending conversations that just didn’t concern him for some reason. He would care, if they were speaking about security problems, or patrol arrangements, but the words shared between the elders were everything but that.

“How affective do you believe our systems are?” And elder, Lefpa asked, turning towards Jake. “I understand we were offered new arrangements, by Anurai.”

Neteyam became interested

Jake sighed, “I believe their terms were far too vague, odd.” He began “I do not trust such ill-defined requests. I have seen where such agreements led, with the Soluna.” Neteyam’s ears twitched

“I agree. Such things require careful consideration” Futep spoke, his boney and skinny fingers tapping on the wooden table they sat at.

Neteyam had a list of the elders he hated. It was a special little place he kept somewhere in his heart, and that way always remembered. Futep was on the top of that list. He was always the most persistent when it came to Neteyam’s training and evolving into a grown, capable man. But never in a parenting, caring way. Neteyam had realised Futep was always furious with the fact that a ‘demon’ sat at the head of the council meeting table. He did everything he could to make Neteyam suffer through his training, so he can prove to everyone how a child through whose veins flows blood of a demon, is harder to train and excel.

Neteyam, of course, proved him wrong, so Futep searched for more ways to discreetly make him and his father and siblings suffer. His excuse was “your father signed up for this life, he, and you, must face our traditions and customs”

Everything he did, everything he said, annoyed Neteyam like nothing on Pandora. His constant finger tapping, throat clearing. The way his whole face sagged. The way he spoke slowly, with his chin facing the ceiling.

“What about the sightings. On the Soluna borders. Does it not concern us?” Lai spoke “they must be plotting something new.”

Jake looked to Neteyam “I had sent Neteyam to investigate the matter. Apparently it was a bug in the system” Jake didn’t pay much mind to it, but Neteyam’s head became loud.

“Were the sightings substantiated?” Futep turned to Neteyam, his fingers interlocking as he gazed at the boy. All the elders gazes were now on him.

Neteyam’s ears began to ring.

…

“Tsuk’ami must you interrupt me now?” Deyla looked up from her reading, her head still facing down. “I hope it’s important.” She finally put her scroll aside, now fully looking up at her daughter.

“Has father returned?” Tsuk’ami’s voice was questioning, as she spotted her father’s gear neatly placed on the against a wall. Her question was answered, as she caught a glimpse of movement at the entrance of her parents’ alcove.

She saw her father, a genuine smile breaking across his weathered face. “Paskalin” he exclaimed warmly, opening his arms to welcome her with an embrace that enveloped her in warmth and familiarity.

Her face lit up. Her father’s returns always brought much ease—understanding, to her.

Their embrace lingered for a moment longer, before her father, Kxeku, pulled back gently, a twinkle in his eyes at the sight of his daughter. “What are you up to?”

Tsuk’ami’s gaze returned to her mother. “I was hoping to visit Vitraya Ramunong today.” She explained. “Ah, the call of the forest” her father teased, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“A ritual is being performed at the tree of souls today.” Deyla informed her “I am afraid you will have to pick another day.” Her mother smiled softly returning the scrolls to her lap.

“What about the other one?” Tsuk’ami’s ears fell back, understanding of the consequences that might occur from that question.

Deyla’s brow furrowed slightly, “Which one?”. Her father’s gaze fell on her “the one at the borders?” His tone was questioning, and at it, her mother’s eyes widened “far too close!” She exclaimed

“I know” Tsuk’ami nodded, respectfully, understanding her mother’s concern “but I know you of anyone would understand. The great mother intends to show me something. I must hear.. I must see.”. At her comments, Kxeku had a considerate look on his face, as if seeking permission from his wife.

Deyla’s protective instincts clashed with Tsuk’ami’s eagerness “Your father may be more lenient,” she conceded “but that is dangerous. Those parts of the forest.. they are unforgiving.” She acknowledged.

After moments of silence, and her mother’s quiet concentrations, she looked up at her daughter again “with caution.”

Filled with a mix of gratitude for her mother’s guidance and bubbling excitement for her impending adventure, Tsuk’ami respectfully thanked her mother before swiftly departing toward the forest’s edge. Her heart danced in anticipation as she ran trough familiar paths that led to the lush forest

The animals she crossed paths with, sights and smells she encountered on her way to the tree, all fit her spirit. It was as if she always left a trace of herself wherever she went. The sunlight filtered through the canopy, painting her face with soft, warm hues.

As the sight of the tree of souls, she halted.

The colossal tree stood, surrounded by vibrant life of beautiful flowers and plants, hit by the colours of the sunset sky, making it even more eternal.

The expansive branches reached skyward, its bioluminescent roots hanging from its tops. It carried a tranquil energy, a silence and a peace.

It had her heart racing, and her neural queue already awakening its soft glow. She walked quickly with excitement.

…

Neteyam soared through the skies astride his ikran, the bonded flight carrying them over the vast expanse of the forests he now regularly kept watch on.

It had been peaceful for quite some time.. days, perhaps. At least for what he remembered. Days meant nothing to him. Time as well. It was all the same.

But ever since that interaction with Tsuk’ami everything was pretty boring at the borders. Not that he missed having problems, or her at that, he just appreciated the fact that she listened to his advice to not come so close to the borders, not just for her safety, but for the sake of the clans relations.

But of course, as it was in Neteyam’s life, everything he was thankful for or everything he grew comfortable with knew to quickly wash away.

As he was enjoying the wind clashing in his face and throwing his braided hair back as he rode the waves of the sky, he had to look down, and he had to catch the sight of a lone figure, standing, not so close, but not so far from the borders.

More precisely, it stood at the Tree of Souls. And even more importantly, that Tree of Souls wasn’t just like every other one. It was the one that Soluna and Omatikaya didn’t quite yet decide who it belonged to.

Sure, it was on the land of the Soluna people, but it was also gifted to Omatikaya, many years before their rivalry began.

That way, Neteyam didn’t really have to go down there and talk that na’vi away, because they were on their land, but he also had to because it wasn’t their property.

He circled above, watching with slight annoyance. The responsibility of the inter-clan dynamics often weighted on him. Yet as much as he wanted to stay open minded to the fact that those na’vi are maybe good people, they were killing him with their curiosity.

Irritation started prickling at him. They were ignorant, dismissive. But those were his personal sentiments speaking. His eyebrows furrowed as he gripped onto the handle on his ikran. He had to face the potential challanges that laid ahead.

With a sharp inhale and an even sharper exhale, he guided Wamey to a steady descent. They landed on a tree top, far enough for the person to not notice him, but close enough for him to get down and even closer.

He manoeuvred with ease—as if he was born doing it. But as he did, his moved became slow and sloppy as he found out who he was dealing with. It was a shift, a realisation, but it was also anger.

He was furious with her. She was most definitely the only one making problems in that damn clan. It was her third time messing up, and his third time cleaning it up.

He wrestled with conflicting emotions. One part of him wanted to walk on over there, and say all of it to her face. Scare her away, make her never come back, because quite frankly he didn’t want the sight of her anymore.

But did he? Because in the midst of his approach, he stopped, stuck behind tree, observing her unusually slow and careful moves. She was headed to one of the glowing roots of the tree, her tswin in her hand.

It was a sight for sore eyes. She looked peaceful. The light from the tree cast an otherworldly illumination of the lights on her features… perfectly. She was focused, didn’t even notice his presence.

He also had to admit. She looked beautiful. But that didn’t mean anything to him, right? He thought many girls from his clan were beautiful. Although not beautiful inside out, because he hadn’t found that girl just yet. But he was still allowed to think that.

He thought that about his mother, his sisters. About the girls that giggled and watched him leave everyday for work. The girls that talked to him during the big feasts, the girls that he thought were his true love when he was younger. Even the girls he kissed when he got drunk, and those he brought to his secret spot, using them for his release of stress—for his pleasure and need.

And just because he was a tad bit curious about her, didn’t mean he would let her do what she wanted. Right?

But as Tsuk’ami connected, and looked to be deeply focused, he couldn’t stop her. Not that he didn’t want to, but it was forbidden.

In her mind, images that ran painted beautiful scenes, usual things the great mother showed her. They were always vivid tales and songs of her people, living happily, in harmony surrounded by laughter, light.

But this time, there was an eerie sound ringing somewhere in the back of her mind. It reminded her of the dream. Scars inflicted upon the land appeared before her, disturbing scenes of death and distraction—disharmony that extended beyond. The web of life in the forest was interwoven, distorted.

She saw her clan, burning in flames. Trees ripped apart by strong winds. She heard screams. Cries. A cry—Heartbreaking cry.

“embrace the truth, for within it lies your path. you will carry the bridge. navigate it. see it” an unnatural uncanny voice spoke “the answers are close. look back.”

Tsuk’ami fought to regain control. She managed to reach for her queue, without really seeing it, and rip the bond apart. The weight of the visions clung to her, as she stumbled back a few steps, her back colliding with the solid frame that stood behind her.

The unexpected impact made her jolt and turn, Neteyam reaching to steady her, quickly removing his hands as he did. “What the fuck happened?” His eyebrows furrowed

She looked back, regaining her composure, recollecting her memories. Turning her gaze back at him, she narrowed her eyes “what are you doing here?”

“You knew I would come.” His voice was low and harsh “you keep doing this to make me come back.”

“What are you talking about? This is our land!” Suki stood her ground, meeting his skepticism resolute stare

“The tree belongs to us.” His arms folded defensively

“Spirit trees do not belong to any clan.” His remark sparked anger within her, her eyes flashed with frustration.

He sighed, rubbing his temples “I understand what you mean, but it is how both yours and my clan decided to divide things.” He spoke softly, trying to make her understand “if that wasn’t the case, imagine how many fights would occur if na’vi from both clans visited same trees at the same time.”

Suki lowered her gaze as she processed the information he gave her, but she quickly shot back “why should I believe that this tree belongs to Omatikaya?” Her brows scrunched together “your clan always manipulates for their own agenda.” Suki’s hands fell on her hips as she had a bitter look on her face. “Besides, my mother let me come here. She would never let me even near something that belongs to you.”

Neteyam scoffed “because your people always let their pride blind them. They use every opportunity to gain an upper hand and pretend things never happened” his temper rose the more he spoke

Their voices clashed like opposing currents. It echoed in the clearing around the glowing tree, where usually silence absorbed all life. Yet now, it was only dicord that unfolded.

Tsuk’ami didn’t have an answer to his words. She read about the Omatikaya, yet nothing was said. She was never thought of such things, and she understood that maybe, Neteyam was right. Her people probably hated their history, so they hid it, changed it.

After a moment of silence, Neteyam’s stern voice shifted the atmosphere “what did you come here for?” He wasn’t curious, he didn’t seek her answers so he could comfort her, he wanted them so he can scold her and go home for the day. She was always on the move, always looking to avoid home, or perhaps those were more of her tricks. She just wanted to mess with him.

“None of your business.” Tsuk’ami’s tail swayed as she tried to act brave.

He could see cracks in her coldness—the usual insecurity she carried. Of course, he didn’t acknowledge it, he just wanted to get to the root of the issue as fast as possible. “That so?” His head rolled back “It very well is my business when I’m the one who has to deal with you avoiding the consequences. There are rules you have to follow.”

“I am under no obligation to share with you why I come to the Great Mother.”

And she was right, he knew that. He considered her response, his head tilting to the side. He stood there for a moment, looking at the tree behind her “what happened there…?” His voice was softer

Tsuk’ami looked back, her ears lowering at the sight. “I don’t know.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper “I heard something… a voice. Something about bridge.. my path.”

Her answer was unclear, but it was one he could work with. He understood she had probably seen something horrible, the way she stumbled in shock and shook as she looked back.

He knew those kinds of visions all too well—but not from personal experience.

His younger sister, Kiri had always had them. Ever since she was born. Even stronger than Tsuk’ami. She would face nightmares, flashes of visions during the day, weird experiences when connected with the Tree of Voices, and even many health scares, when she would pass out out of nowhere, or have awful seizures.

So he knew how to deal with those things—he grew up doing it.

“Okay come here” he walked to the tree, but after a couple steps he realised she wasn’t following

“I’m not going there”

He rolled his eyes “don’t be a baby.”

She thought about it for a second, before she crossed her arms and walked up to him. They sat next to the tree.

“Whatever you saw there, it was probably important,” He began “a message, from the Great Mother.”

“I know.” Tsuk’ami, though still tense, responded, acknowledging the branches of the tree.

“You clearly didn’t understand it well enough and you must try again.” He explained, his gaze a mixture of determination reluctant camaraderie.

“No.” Tsuk’ami stood, waving her hands around. “I’m not doing that for some time”

“One day, you’ll do it anyway. So why not now, when it’s still fresh.” He stood up with her, trying to set his tone reasonable.

She hesitated, weighing the offer. It lasted a few silent moments, where she battled it.

“I’ll do it with you.” Neteyam’s voice suddenly broke her bubble, and she turned her gaze to him, questioning what he was offering. “I will connect at the same time.” He said

A tense pause hung in the air as Tsuk’ami grappled with the proposition. She was taken aback. Summoning her resolve, she looked up at him again, with a slight nod. “Okay..” if we must, she was going to add.

Despite the lingering tension, he grabbed onto a couple of the branches, holding onto his tswin in his other hand, the pink tendrils already dancing with anticipation.

Tsuk’ami followed his lead, holding her own queue close to the branches as if she waited for him to it first. And he did. But before she could follow, she took a moment to admire his face. His pupils dilated, and his mouth fell agape, before he pulled himself together, waiting for her. She shook out of her state, closing the distance of her whip and the tree.

She was immediately sent back, not conscious like Neteyam was, and it freaked her out. She was, now without warning, surrounded by fire and destruction. This time, she was sure it was her clan, but it was destroyed beyond recognition. People ran, but they were like shadows, and she couldn’t make their faces out. She began to panic— frowning and mumbling something as she shook, but she heard a faint voice “stay in it” ranting those words over and over again. She realised it was Neteyam.

She kept walking, stumbling over debris and dead bodies, and it made her shiver. At that, she almost gave up, but she kept going. “What do you want from me.” She looked up to the red sky, begging for answers “I don’t understand”

As she said it, everything became louder. The cries, the ringing, and it stood like that for a moment. When it stopped, Tsuk’ami was surrounded by darkness, and everything fell to a single cry. It was soft and high pitched, but heartbreaking. She looked around, but saw nothing. “Tell me about my path. How must I help?” she spoke into the void, but as she heard something, like a word almost spoken, she was shoved right out of that state.

She stood disoriented, her eyes widening as she noticed the branches shining like flickering lights. The usual steady glow seemed to falter.

“Neteyam” she turned to him, hoping he had answers to give her, “what’s happening with it?” She was eager to know. Did she cause it? Is it dying?

Neteyam was already staring up at it. He didn’t answer, but a hint of concern coloured his features. He knew he only had seen that scenery once— when his sister failed to connect to a Spirit tree of the Metkayina people. But this was no where near the same situation as that.

The silence suddenly broke “I’m done” Tsuk’ami stumbled back a few steps “I never asked for this. I’m not involving myself in these- these visions! And stupid riddles!” She yelled, throwing her arms around hysterically “if the Great Mother wants to tell me something, she can speak clearly.” And with that she stormed off.

That definitely wasn’t Txi speaking. Because in reality, all Tsuk’ami wanted to do was somehow save the world that was dying before her eyes. It’s what Txi inspired her to be. But this was just her fear—fear that she was doing something wrong. Fear that she wasn’t cut for that job, even though she fantasised about it.

Neteyam just watched, a silent witness to the turmoil that was within her. The forest went still, silent, the lights stopped, all as she walked away. And Neteyam saw it, he noticed. He recognised it.

_______________

Sooo Neteyam is learning something new about Tsuk’ami, and it concerns him more than he would like to admit!!

Btw sorry it takes me so much time to complete a chapter, I try to make everything fit perfectly for what I have planned in the future. (Things change quickly) loll

[asgardianhobbit98]

Never Alone - Boromir X OC

relationship: Boromir x OC

fandom: Lord of the Rings

word count: 1421

story summary: alerted something bad might happen to his love, Boromir attempts to soothe his anxiety by ensuring she knows no matter the distance, he will always be there with her. His actions might just save her life.

inspired by Bram Stoker's The Chain of Destiny.  

notes: this was written for @heilith to try and cheer her up a little bit <3 she prompted me to publish it and I’ve finally gained the courage to do so too! It’s my first Boromir fic and on top of that, I haven't written anything in AGES o.o please be gentle with me

Made a little AU, hope you all enjoy it! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated

tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list, please let me know

As the only female soldier in the ranks, Elydia had her own private room to get dressed in. Chainmail rattled as it poured over her bosom, before crinkling together around her waist as she put her belt on. She let her hands slide down her thighs a bit, for no reason really other than the fact she knew she had an audience; an audience, mind you, that liked the sight of his strong woman.

Grabbing a gauntlet, Elydia turned to offer a knowing look to the man whom had attempted to sneak in, but had failed incredibly due to his squeaky boots.

Boromir, son of the steward of Gondor, stood leaned against the doorway to the small room. He didn’t look surprised upon being caught, but he also did not reciprocate her smile.

Starting to tie her gauntlet so it sat taught against her arm, she tilted her head in a silent question to him. His continued silence prompted her to voice the question: “What has my beloved warrior looking so pouty?”

“I do not pout.”

Smirking slightly at succeeding to cut through his silence, Elydia focused her green eyes down at the gauntlet once more. “Mm… I did not want to say you were ‘brooding’. It gives away too much of my thoughts on you. After all, brooding is the sexy man’s pout.”

Boromir looked away from her only to try and contain a chuckle. This was not a time for light-hearted conversation. “I wish to talk to you.”

“What of, my love?”

“I had a disconcerting dream.”

Gauntlet finally tied as tightly as she liked it, she turned her gaze to him once more. “Disconcerting? How?”

“It was of you. You did not make it back.” He stepped inside the little changing room fully, and reached out to her waist, calloused fingers moving over chainmail shakingly. “You fell. You were alone, no one near to offer you courage to keep fighting. And you did not return home to me.”

“We promised each other we would not have these conversations. That we would trust in each other’s abilities. That is what you said when I worried for you last time.”

“I know.” His fingers stopped shaking as they grew heavier on her waist, trying to offer a gentle gesture of reassurance. She understood, and nodded her head to let him continue. “It was not your abilities that failed you. It was your belief of whether you could make it out. And…” He pulled out a little handkerchief embroidered once by a far smaller Boromir. His initials were in the corner – a rough job meant only to teach him how to mend clothes should he need it when out and about. The fine skills were usually only taught those seeking work within the artistry of sewing. This was the work of a warrior, and a precious gift to offer.

But the imagery…

Elydia could not help but giggle at it.

“Are you offering me a lady’s favour?” she joked.

“Please be serious.” The heaviness of his words shocked Elydia into letting her smile fall. “I wish for you to have it, so you know you are not alone. So you know, you are fighting to come back home.” He shoved it into her hands and then backed up as if to avoid her shoving it back at him.

Despite finding it beyond silly as this was nothing but a dream, Elydia did not motion to give it back to him. Instead, she stared at the handkerchief for a while, then moved to tie it around her wrist, initials in facing outward for her to see. Without a word, she turned away from him and grabbed her other gauntlet, putting it on over the little favour he had offered her.

In silence, he watched her ready the gauntlet, then the rest of her armour, and lastly attaching her sword to her belt. Only then did she turn to him and smile. “Maybe I don’t believe dreams can tell the future, but I can tell this will calm your anxious mind.” Gently, she placed a gloved hand on his chest, fingertips over the white tree embroidered onto his noble clothing. “I will keep it. And I will come back.”

He took her hand in his to lift her knuckles up to his lips. “Be safe, my lady.”

“My lord,” she greeted back, smile and blush a heavy indication of her feelings for him and her appreciation toward his gentle gesture.

…

A village within the borders of Gondor had reported issues of Orc attacks at night. Of course Elydia, one of their greatest warriors, was tasked with going along with her men. It would have been foolish to send anyone else.

But this Orc pack was not like the others. They were smarter than expected, and having taken them for granted, Elydia was mortified to find herself in the exact situation Boromir had described he’d dreamed about.

One by one her men fell around her, the darkness of the night allowing for only their screams to reach her ears as they fell – which only amplified the fear this situation caused her.

Her horse squealed in fear, and she did not blame him for throwing her off his back and bolting to safety.

But she was alone now. Truly alone.

The last of her men’s screams had died out a while back.

Orcs were surrounding her, taking their time with the last soldier standing (or… lying down, really) for their own sadistic satisfaction. She could easily reach for her sword and fight as it was not far away, but one arm was definitely broken from the fall, and she had a nasty gash on her leg – there was no way she could make it out alive. There was no reason to fight.

With a sigh, she let her helmeted head rest in the grass, ready for the slow and agonising death these Orcs were going to give her… when her eyes caught sight of her wrist. There, underneath the gauntlet, a little piece of fabric was visible… a tiny sliver of white amidst the dark of her surroundings… the white city… Boromir…

The favour!

“I will keep it. And I will come back.”

She clenched her jaw to face the pain, before reaching out to her sword to fight.

Fight to get back home.

To get back home to Boromir, as she had promised.

…

For how long she had been unconscious, Elydia did not know. All she did know was that when she next awoke from a hazy adrenaline rush of pure survival instinct and dissociation so the pain would not stop her from fighting and walking, and moving home, fingers were brushing through her hair.

Not her fingers though.

There was pain, yes, but she was comfortably wrapped up in a warm sheet on a fluffy bed and pillow. The fingers running through her hair offered a calming sensation that dulled the pain for a moment enough for her eyes to flutter open.

The fingers stilled, almost as if in shock, before another hand touched her cheek and turned her head ever so slightly to the side – her eyes reached those of Boromir sitting beside her bed. He looked tired, pale even… knowing him, he’d stayed by her side since the moment she was rushed in to have her wounds treated.

“My love…” Elydia whispered through a dry throat. Relieved she had made it, she attempted to move in some way closer to him, but the pain stopped her and so did Boromir’s hushing.

“Relax… You’re home.”

“Thanks to you.” Boromir’s eyes flickered down to the handkerchief still around her wrist. Despite her half conscious state of mind, she’d refused to let anyone touch it, not even to wash it of filth and blood. It was too precious to her, now for two reasons. “I should have listened to your dream…”

“It is alright. You made it back. And you will recover.”

“I will.” Elydia’s words were filled with determination, her stubbornness not going to let her body do anything but recover.

It made Boromir chuckle a bit. His beloved Elydia.

“Good.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, but as he went to straighten back up, he regretted it halfway and instead leaned down to press another kiss to her nose… then her lips…

“I wasn’t alone…” Elydia whispered, sleepy once more. “That’s why…”

“And you will never be either,” Boromir promised before kissing her lips once more, lulling her to sleep...

AO3 link (limited access - only those with an account, sorry)

my carrd

thanks for reading. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment

[wayfayrr]

I got tagged by my wife @angry-trashcan to show my oc if they never went through the main defining traumatic event and the aftermath <3 here's the picrew used <3 and thank you for tagging me, this was really fun to do!!

First off -

Sif if she was never killed and brought back as a guardian, instead staying as a researcher with the ishtar collective. I won't get too into how she died, but tdlr she got into an argument over something incredibly small and stupid that ended in her being stabbed with a broken wine bottle. She was researching the use of newly found arc conductors before she died <3

Secondly -

How she'd look if the Iron lords never discovered SIVA! Her hair and eye colours were misinterpreted wildly by her ghost when she was resurrected, and the long hair was a pain when she was travelling through the wilds post-collapse. She was loosely associated with the Iron lords before that whole incident went down, working together with them to defend the lightless before the last city was properly founded. Really this is how she'd look if traumatic incident #2 never happened, keeping more of the green and gold aesthetic rather than her newer neomunan armour. Before I forget she's also an arcstrider hunter, loving how the arc feels and moves - not knowing how it links to her past life.

lastly -

How she looks post Lightfall in her casual clothes!! I couldn't do her armour justice in the picrew She's more well rounded now, coping with her losses and trauma in mostly healthy ways, well all of them are "healthy" for a guardian. She has her fireteam that is now her family, with how much they've bonded during the recent events! She's come to terms that light and dark aren't the equivalent of good/evil, learning to use stasis and strand while researching neomunan culture! This is also the time period where she'd meet the chain in the destiny x linked universe crossover I was working on (except it'd be with a reader placeholder instead)

I'm tagging @fanfic-fairy-fountain @neverchecking @trulytiredhermit @lovanmari if any of you would like to do this - and anyone else who sees this post, feel free to join <3

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies to takes these two uquizzes for my ocs

What is your ocs true role in the story?

The "Oh" quiz

Tagging: @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @direwombat @voidika @statichvm @florbelles @cassietrn @shallow-gravy @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @clicheantagonist @voidika @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @chazz-anova @wrathfulrook @jillvalentinesday @madparadoxum @stacispratt @henbased @unholymilf

the "chosen one"

back again young one? still not comfortable with your new title? yes, I can see you are one that prefers the simpler things in life but you do deserve the rank they have given you. oh little sparrow, have you just now realized you are an owl? soaring the skies with gleaming, outstretched talons. you lived your life blinded to your own abilities, but now the truth is out. you did not ask to be a hero, which pains my heart to the core. but alas, the people have given you something so true and bittersweet you cannot bear to refuse them. for they have given you their trust. they praise you, songs will be sung of you, ballads written, feasts in your honor. but "why me?" you quietly whisper to the stars. if you could speak their language you'd hear their simple reply, "because." you, out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains. your loved ones chanted your worth as it echoed from the steeples. but what was your say on the matter? I guess you had little to none, and unfortunately, neither do I. but destiny is not a burden, it is a gift, you feel weighted by the entire world, your shoulders ache from the hopes, fears, and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you. but their adoration isn't blind my dear. you are strong, you are worthy of the armor, of the crown. when you look back you will realize that you, my young god, were truly the savior many called you. do not run from your purpose, seek it. and I do not mean the heroic of sorts, no, search for what makes you alive young hero, for here's a secret, you are just as much a hero to others as you are to yourself. if wouldn't make you a villian, to tell them no...

*honestly could not ask for a better result for her, that's absolutely the role she plays in her timeline and while the groups that see her as the hero change, that is very much the title she is given. Also the "sacrificial lion in golden chains"??? UQUIZ STOP!!

the first meeting

life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and... Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is... this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but... aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!

*another fantastic result. That whole first bit is very much how things start for Kit and Jacob, she's going through the motions of fighting the cult when she hears his voice and the things he says and she can already tell there's something different about being around him. That slideshow was the moment sparks went off tbh (even the fixing the posture is spot on with her putting on that rigid soldier posture for him). As for re-contextualizing her existence, and her feeling incomplete before him, oh yeah, that's their whole thing. Finding someone that completes her, someone who makes her more of herself instead of being scared of it. And the shared brain chemistry...too spot on really

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall's Masterlist

Hello and welcome! Thanks for stopping by and hope to see you here again ;)

I am working on putting together all of my AO3 works from different accounts into here, so beat with me ❤️

I do have some rules:

No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it. Please don’t add your additions or spin-offs to my existing story.

If the description states 18+ than please do not interact if you are under 18 years old.

I love constructive criticism - what I mean by that? Please be polite (not only here but everywhere). We are all just humans making mistakes.

English isn't my first language so please bear with me :)

You can ask me anything, If I do not wish to answer/write about something, I will let you know.

🔥- smut 🌈- fluff ⚠️ - angst

So let's get started and enjoy!

Chains of Destiny- Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Mutant F!OC ⚠️ for now later 🔥⚠️🌈 (series)

The guard till the end - Oberyn Martell x F!OC ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

Escape - Bucky Barnes x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

I want to be with you, it is as simple, and as complicated as that - Bucky Barnes x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

Love is an open door - Bucky Barnes x Reader 🌈 (one-shot)

Nothings ever what it seems - Bucky Barnes ⚠️ (one-shot)

I ain’t afraid of no skeleton - Steve Rogers x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

Home / Home 2 - Steve Rogers x Reader 🔥⚠️🌈 (two-parter) 18+

The only B - Professor!Steve x Student!Reader 🔥🌈 (one-shot) 18+

Enough is Enough - Steve Rogers x Reader ⚠️ (one-shot)

But it’s snowing - Steve Rogers x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

The first snow of the year - Steve Rogers x Reader 🌈 (one-shot)

Ceasg - Pirate!Steve Rogers x Mermaid!Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

The PA - Tony Stark x Reader ⚠️🌈 (mini-series - finished)

I didn’t want it to be this way - Curtis Everett x Reader 🔥⚠️⚠️⚠️ (one-shot) 18+

Jealous - Geralt x Reader 🌈 (one-shot)

Time of War - Captain Syverson x Fem!OC (series ongoing)

Teenage Fantasy - Henry Cavill x Reader 🔥🌈 (one-shot)

The one with the Force - Obi Wan Kenobi x F!OC Medic (series ongoing)

Love isn't something you just learn, Commander part 1 / Part 2- Commander Cody x F!Reader ⚠️🔥🌈 18+ (two-parter finished)

Hope - Hunter x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one shot)

A new life / Part 2 / Part 3 - Commander Fox x F!OC ⚠️🔥🌈 18+ (three-parter finished)

Jealous - Echo x Reader ⚠️🌈 (one-shot)

The Fight isn't over yet - Rex x F!OC (series ongoing)

[the-king-and-the-druidess]

🌿 «Trillium», a merlin BBC Mordred x Morgana longfic • canon divergent from season 2 • arthurian legends • druids-inspired lore • nonlinear narrative • the sequel, «Aconitum», is being posted 🍀

Morgana, a princess of Camelot with forbidden magic, escapes from home to the magical forest of Brocéliande where she meets the druid clan's leader Aglain, his daughter Elaine and adopted son Mordred. Magic of the Old Religion embraces her, but Morgana is more important for Destiny than she thinks. Her simple decision to find her true self sets off a whole chain of events leading to a crossroads: judgement and perish of the entire Kingdom or the long-awaited Golden Age.

⛤ AO3 LINK • Relationship: Mordred/Morgana, Arthur & Merlin, Arwen & Gwencelot, Mordred & Morgana & Lancelot, Morgause/Cenred, Arthur & Morgana. Arthurian OCs: Sir Galahad, Elaine, Ector, Kay, Lisanor ⛤

LORE 🌿 CHARACTERS OVERVIEW 🌿 GRAPHICS: mystical places, geography, heroines, edits

If Fate wills it, it will make it happen no matter how hard you try to walk away. Magic chooses you. Don't trust anything you see but everything you feel. What if what you're sure of is wrong? You don't know what kind of wave a pebble you throw into the lake will raise. Have faith, protect nature and remember your ancestors. The past is the future, and the future is the past: to return to the Old Ways is to pass into the New Age. Even if you forget, your soul remembers. Power without love is evil, and love even without power will live forevermore.

Tumblr tag: #druid au

[goddness-lunafreya]

Icy Serenade: Astarion x OC — Chapter 2!!

Hidden Natures — Chapter Summary:

The cold night becomes the perfect place to let Astarion’s true nature reveal itself. As he wanders through the forest, he spots Philrath.

The Half-Dragon tries to hide her secret as much as possible, but it is difficult to hide her emotions. The night becomes warm at least for a moment, and they both rethink their hidden natures. Read on: AO3 Words: 2972 Rating: Explicit Previous Chapter: The Encounter Next Chapter: Bad Dreams

Fanfic Summary:

 "I don't know. I... I never imagined my scales feeling such a... sweet touch..."

Philrath is a Half-dragon, daughter of a powerful White Dragon, destined to run and hide. One day, fate puts her in front of Astarion, a seductive and mysterious elf, who reveals himself to be a vampire.

 The two beings hide secrets and flee from a past and destiny that refuses to leave them in peace. Amid chains, scars, pain and fear, can there be anything good? Maybe it can, but to do that they will need to find themselves in the darkness.

 Will they have their freedom...?

 "Your scales and fangs... They're a gift, darling." Read Prologue: AO3 Words in total: 9,589

[misshiraethsworld]

A SERVANT'S FRIENDSHIP ━ arthur pendragon ♔

Lynette cared for magic, but could never wield such wonder except in her dreams. The hustle and bustle of the lower town to the intrigues of court life made up most of her childhood memories. As the physician's daughter, many people would find her helping the elderly with their large loads or playing with the children in alleyways. As a humble servant to her thriving kingdom, Lynette struggles to face the light of a new dawn in the war against magic. A light that manifests into her long predestined fate as the one they call the once and future queen. Arthur was fearful of magic, and all it had taken and could take from him. He learned at a young age what it meant and how it had affected the lives of those around him. As the son of a king, most would find him training with his knights or at his desk with mounds of paperwork. However, he could also be found in the physician's chambers spending time with his best friend. As a prince of a kingdom,Arthur held on to every momentof freedom until it was his time to rule. A luxury that would fade into darkness and give way to his fate as the once and future king. Magic knew no bounds when it came to the constraints of destiny. It had a tendency to morph and evolve until it was unrecognizable to all except those who knew it. An untamable force that struck fear into the hearts of many and yet longing in others. The meeting of two extraordinary individuals was written in the time of dragons. A destiny that weaves a sorcerer, servant, and prince into a chain of unpredictable events that would go down in history as legends in the Albion escapades.

THE ALBION ESCAPADES read here: wattpad

tag family: @arrthurpendragon, @eddysocs, @darth-caillic, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @kmc1989 if you want to be added to my family, all you have to do is ask!