#like I did get lost for a bit in the shadow level where you have to turn off the searchlights but I never got LOST lost

[meanbossart]

Odd question, but when you're shading your pictures, where do you put the "true" color of whatever it is you're drawing? The parts that are in light are brighter than the original color and a bit of a different color, too, based on the source. The shadows are darker than the original color and more based on the undertones of the object/hair/skin or whatever, so also not the original color. I've noticed you have a kind of gradient between the colors to make them harsh but still blend together, too. Where does the shade you're basing these off of come in?

Sorry if this doesn't make sense 🙏 I'm trying to study art styles I like to figure out how to improve my own drawings, and your page is a huge inspiration for me.

Hmmm If I understand correctly, you're asking me why you can't color pick the base tones as shown below from anywhere in the picture, right?

That's because A) I know these colors, roughly, by heart. So, Instead of picking them from the original drawing, I did what I always do and selected them manually. But also - and what I think is actually relevant for your question: B) A lot of processing takes place OVER these base colors! Let me get the spherical piece of Bhaal's sacred flesh to explain.

Here we have just the base color by Itself. Next, I add a light wash of the undertone to places like the face, ears, hands - basically anywhere the body has a tendency to become flushed. The intensity of this depends on the person and skintone, and in DU drow's case I tend to make it pretty prominent.

Next, I add the "overtone". I don't even know if that's the right term for it, but it's something that happens with very dark skintones because they tend to reflect more light. With my character, this color is almost always blue for stylistic reasons.

The base tone is still there, even though you probably couldn't easily color pick it anymore. It's doing it's quiet, thankless job: being a base!

As if that wasn't enough, out comes all the fancy stuff:

And I can get even sillier than this with more layers of shadows, multiple light sources, highlights, and so on. These colors here are just examples too - they can be pretty much anything in a similar level of brightness/contrast. All elements of the art that I want to render get this treatment or similar depending on their texture, not just the skin, so you can probably guess how they would get "lost" despite being used as a base.

Hopefully this clears things up!

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 179 }

company.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ let's end each other's lonely nights | be each other's paradise | need a picture for my frame | someone to share my reign… }

you walked to school in the early hours of the morning, simply looking down at the novel you were reading in your hand. a smile paints your features the more you basked and read each scene, and as you were in the midst of turning the page, you felt a strange sensation creeping up on you-

the sensation of being followed.

your steps begin to slow just then, unaware of the large hand that reaches out to you-

as sung jinwoo lets out a rich chuckle of your name, wrapping an arm around you as he brings you closer to the front of his chest.

“morning, angel.” he purrs into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you give him a playful pout, lightly pushing yourself away from him.

you missed the lost expression seen in his gaze the moment you pulled away from him, trying to calm down your racing heart as you smoothed down the skirt of your uniform.

with a cough, you put your novel back within the confines of your bag, choosing instead to walk side-by-side with jinwoo to school.

you and jinwoo had a special relationship-

this didn’t mean that you two were a couple or anything, oh no.

what you meant was that you still had memories of another life with jinwoo…

where you and him were both hunters, taking on raids while supporting each other throughout it all.

jinwoo was your best friend during those times; he helped train you, a mere b-rank hunter, making you more proficient in your raids as you slowly rose up the ranks, given you freedom to attend more high level raids despite never being able to level up like he could.

your memories became a little hazy after the war, and once jinwoo used the cup of reincarnation one last time-

you found yourself being 14 again, living with your parents and little brother in your humble home. perhaps what came as the most shocking to you was how you retained all of your memories.

which was why you felt so happy when you and jinwoo ended up going to the same high school together. he was a great source of comfort during the times when memories of your past life became too much to bear.

ah, but you were getting ahead of yourself-

you’ve since then gotten better at dealing with the hardships of your past life, even getting the tiniest bit upset when jinwoo admitted to taking on all the monarchs on his own, spending a total of 27 years within some strange, dimensional rift. you knew that he had won the war all on his own while telling you how he succeeded his mission, now living his life as a normal human despite how truly godlike he was.

jinwoo’s knuckles were suddenly felt being gently placed against the top of your head. “you’re dozing off again.”

“what? i am not dozing off, woowoo.”

a blush immediately paints his features when you refer to him by that stupid nickname. “h-hey, that nickname is dumb as hell, and that’s not even how you pronounce my name! the ‘woo’ in ‘jinwoo’ is more subtle than that, like a soft ~u.”

“heh, whatever, woowoo…!”

you giggle when his eyes flash purple in annoyance, running to catch up to you, but all while hiding his grin.

you would never know the depths of his feelings for you, and that fact alone was killing the shadow monarch on the inside.

{ … }

you and jinwoo end up enjoying lunch together back in the classroom, with you taking casual sips of your juice.

“so do you have track practice today?”

jinwoo takes a rice ball from your lunch box as you stole a piece of his bulgogi beef. “yeah, i do.”

“hehe, did you want me to hang out with you on the field?”

a soft smile paints jinwoo’s features, “if you don’t mind, then yeah. i could use your company.”

a teasing grin paints your expression, “you still trying to get with cha hae-in?”

jinwoo chokes on his rice ball, “w-what the- you know about that?!”

“what? it’s so obvious that you’re still into her! want me to look her up and give you her number or something?”

you giggle in response, basking in jinwoo’s embarrassed expression. you recall how jinwoo was pretty much dating cha hae-in in the original timeline, and they were truly such a cute couple in your eyes!

two of the most renowned s-rank hunters taking on high level gates, never once failing their missions or goals. because of jinwoo’s blossoming romance, you, being simply labeled as his best friend, took a step back and gave them the space they needed in order to let their romance bloom.

and now, with time going backwards due to jinwoo’s actions, you were certain he was going to try and capture her heart once more, leaving you more than willing to play as his wingwoman once more.

despite your playful words, jinwoo appeared uncomfortable, shifting his rice around his lunch box with his chopsticks, eyebrows furrowed in response. noticing the change in his demeanor, you softly ask him, “are you okay?”

your question snaps him out of his reveries. “i’m fine. here, you can have the rest of my lunch… i’ll be right back.”

you could tell something was wrong with jinwoo, watching as he stood up a bit too fast for your liking when you stop him, allowing your hand to wrap around his wrist. “wait, where are you going?”

he looks down at you with gentle grey eyes, allowing the pad of his thumb to grace at your cheek as he wiped away an imaginary stain. after that simple touch, he points to your empty juice bottle.

“i was going to get you more juice. are you opposed to it?”

your eyes go wide, but you shook your head in response. “no, i don’t mind it.”

jinwoo gives you a nod, shaking your grip off of his wrist, leaving you utterly confused as you kept staring at his quickly retreating form.

“how strange…” you look down at your shadow, seeing a few, glowing purple eyes glancing back at you.

at least he still wanted to protect you-

even when you knew you did something to upset him.

{ … }

jinwoo told you he didn’t mind you watching him at practice-

but you didn’t feel like your presence was warranted after upsetting him at lunch earlier. so, you hid out at the library, working on some assignments while doing your readings for your classes. you had thoughts about going home first, but deep down, you knew that avoiding jinwoo wouldn’t help with making this whole situation any better.

as you were writing, you immediately became aware of the shadow looming over you, a pair of solemn, glowing violet eyes staring down at you with a neutral expression.

“why didn’t you join me at practice?”

you tremble a bit, detecting the accusation in jinwoo’s voice as you let out a sigh.

“how could i join you when you’re mad at me?” you whisper back at him.

hearing his scoff tones down your anxieties the tiniest bit, and you felt your shoulders visibly relax at the sound of it. you finally gather the courage to meet his gaze, seeing jinwoo leaning closer to you while placing a hand on the table.

he was dressed in his track uniform, consisting of a purple and white shirt with matching shorts. he taps the top of his sneakers against the linoleum floors, giving you a nice view of his muscular calves.

you were ready to tease him about it, your lips puckered up as a low whistle escapes from them when jinwoo suddenly wraps an arm around the back of your head.

your words die against your throat, eyes going wide when your face was pressed directly against jinwoo’s chest. he runs his fingers through your hair, a pained whisper heard coming from him when he asks,

“do you really not feel a single thing from me? am i doomed to remain just friends with you in this timeline, too?”

your mouth goes dry when you hear his question, and you were uncertain as to how to respond to him. you felt your lips open and close, yet still, not a single syllable would come out.

jinwoo lets out a disappointed ‘tsk’ then, shoving you away from him as he gazes down at you with a neutral look. “forget about it. just… forget about it.”

you watch helplessly when jinwoo picks up his duffel bag and backpack, facing away from you as your heart clenched painfully in response.

if you didn’t stop him now, then you’d lose him forever.

shoving back your chair with such intensity that it nearly falls to the ground, you grab jinwoo’s wrist once more. his eyes go wide, and you catch his shocked expression momentarily before standing on the tip of your toes to fully kiss him.

his reaction was immediate- instinctive even when he wraps his arms around your back, bringing you achingly closer to him all while deepening the kiss.

you lost track of time, uncertain of how many kisses you shared when you finally found the strength to pull away from him. he keeps both of his arms wrapped tightly around you, purple eyes gazing down at you in amusement and love, all while running his hands through your hair.

“i… i always thought that you always deserved a girl like cha hae-in… because, well, you know… she was pretty powerful… and gorgeous, too.”

jinwoo scoffs at your admission, but remains quiet, wishing for you to go on and explain yourself.

“that’s why, i kept all my feelings hidden for you.” unable to meet his gaze, you play with the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric while picking away at the imaginary lint. “i always figured you deserved better than me-“

“tch, stop.”

jinwoo then gently pulls you back by your hair, eyes becoming more passionate when he crashes his lips against yours. you could only whimper in response to his sudden kiss, hands remaining curled up against his chest as jinwoo presses you even closer to him.

he pulls away first, lightly panting before admitting to you, “please… i never wanted hae-in… but you were so determined to set us up that neither one of us knew what to do.”

you blink up at him in complete shock. “what…? but, she had such a huge crush on you…?!”

jinwoo chuckles all while tracing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. “well yeah… she liked me, but that didn’t mean that i liked her. how could i like her when i already had you?”

your head was spinning, yet despite it all, you couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “eh? but didn’t you say you wanted to join track to meet her someday?”

jinwoo lets out a huff, bringing your frame into his chest once more before coming clean to you. “forgive me and my poor attempts at making you jealous. joining track was just an excuse, really.”

his admission finally earns bouts of laughter from you, feeling so relieved and happy that your feelings were requited after all. after spending a few more minutes in each other’s embrace, jinwoo gives your body one last squeeze before pulling away from you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss.

“how about i walk back home with you, then, we can talk about our plans for our upcoming first date.”

you giggle, watching as jinwoo packs up your notebooks and assignments before carrying your bag for you, giving you a lovesick expression while you cling on to his side.

perhaps dreams do come true after all…

a.n. - this is so self indulgent, but oh so much fun to write! (/ω＼)

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[sleepingelvhen]

Sleeping Spider Lily Pt. 2

Blade/Reader NSFW Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- [🌹Part 4🌹] Minors DO NOT interact MASTERLIST Your world was turned upside down when you discovered the love of your life was alive and a completely different person. Now, you need answers, even if it was risky.

Nighttime on the Luofu was the most peaceful. For you, at least. Not many enjoyed strolling the less patrolled streets as you did, the mara-struck a blight upon the planet-ship that kept most everyone away. It made things easier for you; the further you strayed from civilization, the fewer guards there were, and the less likely you were to get reported to Jing Yuan for completely going against his request.

Maybe your logic was slightly skewed from the complete lack of sleep that muddled your logical thinking. Possibly also combined with the questions that consumed your mind. Questions only Blade would be able to answer if he was willing. If this reckless plan went wrong however…well, it’s been a while since you’ve sparred with someone.

Slipping through the shadows, you avoided another group of guards within Stargazer Navalia. Hood up to cloak your face, a deep breath to calm your nerves, and a moment to take control of a docked starskiff, soon you were flying through the Luofu, guiding your way to the only place you believed Blade would hide out. 

The one place you haven’t been to in a few hundred years now.

Complicated machinery was quickly replaced by sand and the ripples of waves. A reminder of where the races of the Luofu came from before their home developed to soaring through space. 

It was a familiar sensation when your feet sunk into the thin beach sand, a wave of nostalgia in your heart making you feel so lightweight it felt for a moment you were floating.

He was here, he had to be. It was like a second sense, something you once believed was a supernatural connection you had had with him. A bond that connected the two of you so that you would always know he was near. Part of you wanted to believe it to be true, but if you had gone this long not knowing he was even alive…well love makes you delusional.

Scalegorge Waterscape was beautiful enough to cause your eyes to water a bit as you approached the main entrance. Memories of friends…family…a love you had lost…they all appeared as ghosts in your mind now drowned by the now risen sea levels. Only a part of it still really existed, a platform with a statue depicting the Imbibitor Lunae, another friend you had lost all those years ago.

Eyes fixated on the statue, it took you a moment to really notice that you weren’t alone. You felt his presence, knew he was there. But a part of you didn’t want to look, scared to really face the reality of the situation.

“He must face his betrayal,” his darkened voice pulled you from your mind. A bit of a reminiscent tone within words that he attempted to make sound completely careless. “No one can run from a price to be paid.”

You finally turned to look at him. Surprisingly, he looked quite peaceful here, eyes staring up into the statue of Dan Feng. You thought you saw a flash of sadness in his eyes, maybe a bit of hope that he could return to the past. Or maybe that was just a bit of your own hope peaking through.

“Why have you come here?” Red eyes met your own then, you hadn’t even noticed he had turned to acknowledge your presence. Just like before, eyes filled with disdain and a desire to kill. But it was just what he was, it seemed. There was no desire in him to attack you, there was no intent to kill you. He was simply filled with bloodlust and it caused a shiver to climb up your spine.

“I…” your voice caught in your mouth. “I need answers.”

“Don’t we all?” He looked away from you again, eyes fixated upon the stretching ocean. You followed his gaze there, reminded of how this place used to look. Once filled with life, now beneath languid waves. Just a reminder of what you both had lost.

“Do you…remember me?” It was the only thing you could really think to ask. While it sounded so simple coming from you, it was just…the only thing that left the fog of your chaos-filled brain.

Blade huffed, almost a laugh. Aeons have you missed that. Blade never had a loud laugh like many, it was always cocky and short. One thing you had loved about him. Something that made your heart pang when you heard it again.

“I remember you…” His voice softened, eyes closed, refusing to turn to face you. “You seem to have changed.”

You gritted your teeth then and clenched your fists. With a deep breath, you walked forward, joining him where he stood. The silence was louder than the waves, louder than the crunching sand beneath your feet.

“We both have.”

Blade dipped his head in agreement, no reaction to you moving next to him. He didn’t move away, didn’t step closer, just stood there, staring out at the sea. You closed your eyes, trying to enjoy this for a moment, pretending it was like old times. The man beside you was Yingxing, and you were his lover. Standing upon Scalegorge Waterscape, simply reveling in the silence and one another’s company. 

Back then, you would gently take his hand in yours and he would squeeze it to tell you he was there and would always be there. Back then, he would tell you about his day and about the ways he was improving in his craft. Or maybe he would show you a sword he was proud of. You thought fondly of the day he showed you Shard Sword, proud upon its flawless creation. The smile upon his face was one you had tucked away into your memories, so vivid you could look at it whenever you pleased.

“You came here seeking answers,” the growl in his voice pulled you away from your thoughts, your eyes opening, your head turning to see him staring down at you intensely. “Ask your questions.”

He had blue eyes once, you remembered. But the red, it was entrancing and almost suited him better than the blue. Despite all the changes he still looked like himself, still looked so gorgeous. It was always so easy to get lost in his eyes, so easy to search for the feelings he kept hidden. You saw it there, a subtle flash of vulnerability. Eyes awash with affection.

“How are you alive?” You watched as his mood fell a bit, his brows lowering, a sharp intake of breath hinting at something painful inside. 

“The mara,” he simply said, unsheathing his sword, Shard Sword, and gliding his fingers against the golden marbling of its perfection. He hummed in consideration, nicking the pads of his index and middle finger, blood dripping down onto the blade, then onto the ground beneath him. Then, you watched wide-eyed as the deep cuts glowed and healed in simply a few seconds. Blade closed his eyes and sighed. “I pay my price in blood…and endless life.”

“Yingxing—Blade…” You stumbled over your words, correcting the name when you saw him turn his head away from you upon hearing his old name. He sheathed his sword, clenching the fist that he had previously cut.

“I left as I was cursed. Determined to die. Instead I became this. Immortal. Mara-struck. A blade to be used." His explanation made you understand truly what had happened. His allegiance with Dan Feng, his betrayal of the Luofu. Yes, they had found immortality in their search to revive their friend, but he was living proof of what that did to a short-life species. 

“You have your answers.”

But you didn’t leave, you just stared at him, tears in your eyes. You were exhausted, heart-broken, and…still absolutely in love with this man despite who he had become. A criminal, betrayer of the Luofu, ally to the Stellaron Hunters, and the love of your life. 

He took a sharp breath when he saw you staring, eyes darkening as he looked down at you. He cocked his head to the side, watching you carefully. 

“Your general would not be pleased if he discovered you here,” his voice was low and breathy, as if he was whispering.

“Jing Yuan would understand,” you simply said, unable to take your eyes away from him.

“Hm,” Blade turned his head, gaze still fixated upon your face. The noise he made sounded like a growl, or a huff of irritation. He used to do that when Jing Yuan would get too close to you, too friendly. A dusting of pink colored your cheeks as you looked down at your feet.

“I missed you…you know. Every day.”

Blade didn’t answer you. Instead, two fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, flickering with something that looked all too familiar. Intrigue, affection, and hesitance. 

“Every day?” He asked, his voice husky.

“Every day,” you answered, your own voice growing warm and soft.

You swore you saw a ghost of a smirk grace his face, a glimmer of his arrogance. 

“Hm…you are tired,” Blade pulled his fingers away slowly, the feeling of his touch lingering on your jaw. A soft gasp left your lips when he leaned in close, his lips against the shell of your ear, his whisper breathing a warm breath against your skin. “Go sleep, little dove. You will see me soon.”

He took your hand in his, his fingers slipping a piece of paper into your now weakened grip. As soon as he had been so close to you, he was walking away, hands behind his back as he regarded his environment. 

You wanted to stay, taking a step forward to reach for Blade before you stopped and bit your lip. He was right, you were on the verge of falling asleep right here right now. And nighttime was almost over. You fought the urge to stay, and left the Waterscape, gliding back home on the stolen starskiff. 

Once back in your room, you slipped into your sleeping clothes, sitting on the edge of your bed with the paper in hand. It was soft against your fingers, making your mind reel as you wondered what was within. Hesitance didn’t stop you as you opened the small slip of paper, revealing the message Blade had given you.

An address and a meeting time. He was hiding within a small building. Right here in the Divination Commission.

[tinydefector]

Ok ok i thought about this and for me it's sounds funny.

Sooo on the comic where everyone just found out that Rung is god you know where Rodimus, Rachet, Whirl and Tyrest and others having existing crisis and the part where Whirl said "God was my therapist" and then I thought about it, how funny it would be if cybertronian or human MC/reader said something like "I was fuck by said God" like if said cybertronian/human was in relationship with Rung and everyone reaction (plus Tyrest too since I think he's a god fanatic) 😂😂😂😂

XD omg so I had a bit of a joke piece about fucking God over in this fic. But it gets even better that thought of Tyrest being a God fanatic and hating Organics. The horror when he finds out Primus is with a human, watch this mech just break down.

Everyone's optics and eyes are on Rung, and the mech stands there wishing attention wasn't on him. Rodimus paces back and forth, Ratchet just stares off into a wall wish above all he wasn't here right now. Whirl, for the first time, is so quiet that it makes everyone so uncomfortable. And then there was the human just looking up at Rung in shock, dismay? They really didn't know how they felt in that moment.

Rodimus finally speaks. "OK, ok, but how the Frag!, Your Primus! All this time, you have just been what? Hiding on cybertron, having a vacation!" He asked. He was bitter about this, as much as he wanted to blame Rung for everything, cybertron falling apart, his home, and the matrix in truth it wasn't his fault. After all wasn't he doing the exact same thing, running away because he didn't want to be a prime, he wasn't suited for it, he didn't want to live in Optimus' shadow and have that shame over him. He'd take being co captain with Megatron over having to be in Optimus' shadow any cycle.

Ratchet, on the other hand, just wants a strong drink. He had never been a believe in gods, yet here he was finding out the the mech who had been the Lost Light's therapist, had been a neutral throughout the war, had a space ship collection older then some mechs was Primus. It was just his luck. "Does anyone else know?" He asked, trying to be the level-headed one of the group.

Rung removes his glasses, and the stress and exhaustion are very visible on his faceplate. "Drift, I believe, he's, he's always suspected something," Rung explains. He wasn't sure, but he's rather sure that Drift knows what he is.

Whirl finally laughs. "This is Fragged. How in the Pit did I end up this fragging, unlucky that my slagging therapist is Fragging Primus!" They shout, they don't know if they are angry, hurt or just overwhelmed, so much had been fried in their circuitry after the Emputra but this, this felt like a sick joke. All the things he had told Rung now feel like they were confessions.

Tyrest is baffled. He doesn't know whether to fall to his knees or call blasphemy, but the evidence is right there in front of his optics.

Rung is sheepish as he looks to the human. He's hoping they don't hate him. "I know this is alot for you all to take in, I'm sorry you all had to find out this way, I'm sincerely sorry for everything that has happened" He calls out to the group. He goes to continue only to be cut off.

"Fuck my life, Swerve is never going to let me live this down" the human stammers out. Everyone's optics are on them, a flush tints Rungs plating. "Please we don't need to bring that-" He's cut off again.

"The fact that I've unknowingly been getting Railed by Primus!" They exclaim only for Rung to hide behind one of his servos as multiple mech's Jaws drop at those words.

"HAH, and i thought I was Fragged!" Whirl screeched, finding humour in the situation. The other mechs look just as shocked and disgusted. "No, I refuse. That's blasphemy. Please tell me you haven't been interfacing with an organic!" Tyrest almost pleaded, hoping by the all spark that it wasn't true.

Rodimus pinches his brow ridge. He could feel his processor hurting from all this information. "Slagging Pit," he grumbles. " I Owe Sunstreaker so much Shainx now," he huffs. "OK, ok. Rung's Primus, and he's fragging a human." He throws his servos up in the air, being overly dramatic.

Ratchet just glares at the two. "They both of you are to report to medical for an examination after this, You" he points right at Rung. " I have some rather choice words for you," he states before stalking off, leaving.

The human looks at the floor, and the true panic is taking over. "Oh fuck, I've been fucking an Alien God who's also my therapist" they mutter to themself, tears starting to well up in their eyes and Rung kneels down cupping their face and wiping the tears away. "I didn't mean to upset you," he says softly. Optics focused on them. " I don't want this to change anything between us. You mean a great deal to me, and I don't want to lose you," he murmurs to them, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead.

The sound of the others arguing and fighting drowns out as Rung focuses on his little lover. "I'm not angry, Rung, Primus, or whatever name you want to go by, but... but I'm a human, a random fucking human so why me. Why me? " they nearly sob as he scoops them up, pulling them against his frame.

"My dear, I'm the the holy being everyone believes I am, I'm just a very old mech, who did what he could to stop something bad from happening, alot fo the tales told are very twisted stories. I'm just a mech, I'm not some holy being. And as for why you. You were the first person to remember my name, you took an interest in my hobbies, I would have happily faded into dust unknown but you choose me" he coos softly. Digits tracing their cheeks as he looks at them in pure love.

"But an Organic!" Tyrest hisses out as he watches how sweet and tender Rung is with the human. Is Rodimus who speaks up next. "Ah ah, remember each time to talk badly about organic races you lose Shanix which goes right into my account!~" Rodimus sings out, trying to make light of the situation for his own mental stability.

"You two are fragged and Slag, and I thought I had issues!" Whirl huffs before pointing at Rung. "Not a word about our therapy session to anyone, God or not, I will end you." Whirl nearly snarls before transforming and taking off.

"But you are Primus! You could have your choice of any cybertronian, pillars in your name cities, why have you hidden for so long!" Tyrest utters, he wants to be angry, but at the same time, this was Primus. How could he.

Rung meets his optics. "Because that's not the type of mech I am, I did what I had to to stop Unicron, I got sick of people trying to put me on a pedestal, I wanted to live, live my life, to enjoy hobbies, travel, I gave up my old frame for the ability to live" he states. He wouldn't change his choices even if he had the ability to. He was content.

________

MC: "Swerve get me a strong drink!"

Swerve: "heya what got you so rilled up, partner problems? Give me all the juicy details."

MC: staring him dead in the optics. "Swerve, Rung is Primus"

Swerve: "Well, I wouldn't call him that, I mean, he must be a good frag but doubt that"

MC: "No Swerve, Rung is Primus, I've been fucking your God, why me, how did I get to this point"

Swerve: "you know what let me get you a double"

--

Rung: "this is a mess, I need to get myself a Therapist"

Swerve: "well doc tell me all your woos, I'm the closest your gonna get for therapy"

Rung: " ships having a meltdown over my past and the fact I'm with a human"

Swerve: " eh, heard worse, your squishy things your Primus"

Rung: " yes, well that's also part of the issue"

---

Whirl: "soo.... Rung huh?"

Mc: "Please, I don't want to talk about it"

Whirl: "What part, the part where you're fragging the ships Therapist or the part where your Fragging Primus."

MC: "Oh my fucking God Whirl!"

Whirl: "Ah, ah, your fucking my God not the other way round!"

---

MC: "fuck you Tyrest, you owe Rodimus more money now, from being a Xenophobe."

Tyrest: "Like, I would ever let you within five meters of my frame you disgusting little creatin. Your insults mean nothing to me. Filthy little flesh thing"

MC: " just remember it's your Beloved Primus who's fragging me!, yea!, your beloved God prefers fragging me!"

Tyrest: *the most horrified noise ever* " You take the Blastphamy Back!"

__________

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@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow

[mustainegf]

→ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 —➤ 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑴𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻

I stumbled through the snow, my feet dragged in each step and every move was an effort. The cold bit through my thin clothes like some sort of acid that was eating through me. I know not where I am, nor how I came here. My mind remains awash in a blurred bundle of half visualized images and fleeting sensations.

There had been a form, a man, always in my mind, whose face I could not sharpen to anything more than a shadow. His darkness seemed to weigh on me with something unwelcome. Gunshots resounded sharply and deafeningly in my mind, and then flashes of violence, chaos. Flames, I could see them, smell them, feel their heat on my skin, but everything else was hazy.

My breath hardly came out, visibly white in the freezing air. The landscape was melting in my head, white and gray, as the snow coated trees stretched out endlessly in every single direction. The above sky was stiff, gray, hefty with the promise of more snow. I wrapped my arms about me, trying to conserve what little warmth I had left.

My fingers were stiff, my toes without sensation. I shuddered once more, and it wasn't the cold this time, fear licked at my mind. What had taken place with me? Why couldn't I remember?

The forest was deadly silent; the only sound was crunching my feet in the snow. As all daylight began to fade, so did the temperature. I could not go on much longer. I needed to find shelter, somewhere to rest, even if for but a little while.

I spotted a big pine tree, heavy-branchinged with snow, offering a little protection from the wind, and suddenly I knew that here was the temporary refuge I so desperately needed.

I started towards the tree, each step was of monumental level in effort. At the tree, I collapsed against its trunk, and the rough bark dug into my back. I didn’t care.

I burrowed into myself as far as I could, in an attempt to get warm. Wearying waves seemed to smash me, much like a heavy blanket that dragged me down. I resented it, knowing it was not safe to sleep in the cold, but I was just too tired, too cold to fight it.

Darkness slept in, twisting with foggy remnants of my memories.

Waking up, I could feel the cold morning air. My body ached and I was shivering. The little coat was drawn closer to my already frail body, a thin coat. Above, the sky was stamped with splashes of orange and pink.

For one more moment, I couldn't tell where I was or how I had ended up here.

I shifted around, my back against the rough bark of the pine. I was still lost, all alone, in this huge frozen wilderness.

There was suddenly, jarringly, a throat clearing off somewhere in the darkness. I jerked my head up, and my pulse ratcheted up a step. He stood above me, a mounted, middle aged man with an age face, wide furrows from experience and exposure. He must have been about fifty, had side whiskers, a white mustache, and these piercing blue eyes that cut right through me.

"What are we doing out here all on your lonesome in the snow?" he wanted to know, steady, calm pitch.

I tried to find my voice, throat dry and raw from the cold. "I… I don't know," I stammered. "I can't remember. I woke up… I can't remember."

His expression softened to something sweet, and he finally dismounted his horse, coming toward me with careful steps. "Well, you're not safe out here, missy. The cold’ll kill a little thing like you."

He held out a hand to help me to my feet, and I sat there, unsure if I could trust him. Something about this man told me that he didn't intend to hurt me.

"I'm James Hetfield, sheriff around these parts," he said, offering me his large hand. "And you look like you could use some help."

I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. My legs were weak, and I swayed slightly, but he steadied me with a firm grip. "I'm Clarice," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "At least, I think I am."

"Clarice, I’m going to bring you with me. We’ll get you someplace warm, and then we can sort out where in God's name you came from."

I hesitated once again, the sight of the limitless snow and trees frightening me into making my decision. It meant certain death if I stayed there, but going with just any stranger scared me. The alternative, however, was no option.

James helped me onto his mount, climbing up behind me to make sure I was secure. His body heat felt like a godsend, a warm gift. He held me steady as we began our trot through the forest.

The horse's thump was oddly soothing, and I found myself relaxing a little.

The landscape blurred around us, trees sweeping by in a haze of white and dark green. I was leaning back onto James, taking in the warmth of his heavy coat while I could.

We rode in silence for nearly hours, the sound of our passage was the crunch of the horse's hooves in the snow, the occasional call of a bird somewhere distant.

Finally, James spoke, breaking my string of thoughts with his response. "We'll get you to the nearest town. There'll be a doctor there to help you, and we'll figure out what happened to you. You’ll be safe with me."

I nodded, feeling a little comforted by his words, although my memories still remained jumbled. As we rode further to town, I couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that whatever was wrong was looming before me, much like some dark storm cloud on the horizon, close and imminent, vitally important in my remembering. But I didn’t. For now, I kept my focus on the beat of hooves and the solid warmth beside me that was the sheriff.

As we rode through the white forest, my gaze was riveted on the mane of the horse. My fingers moved leisurely through the soft coarse hair. Rich chestnut. I stroked it gently, appreciating this beautiful creature. A small smile crawled across my face, the first real smile I could remember.

Gradually, the dense forest started to thin out, and soon I began to pick up the quiet murmur of civilization. Whispers of voices faded by distance, clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the barking of dogs grew loud as we drew nearer towards the edge of town.

The town itself was a small frontier settlement, buildings of wood all herded together against the harshness of the wilderness. Smoke curled up from chimneys, and people moved through the streets as part of their daily routine. It felt oddly familiar, as if I had seen it before, yet I could not place where or when.

James must have caught the tension in me, for his voice cut through my thoughts. "Don't worry you, sugar. These are good people."

I could only give him a nod. People turned to look at us as we rode down the main street, their expressions curious but not unfriendly.

James guided the horse to a stop in front of a small wooden building with a sign, "Doctor M. Wilburry." He tied up his reins and jumped down first, then helped me down, his hands balancing me as I found my footing.

"Wait here," he said gently. I nodded again and burrowed closer to the horse, stroking its mane for comfort. I watched the sheriff disappear into the building, leaving me out on my own.

I turned around and looked across the street, where I nodded at a man who had been looking too intently at me. He was a thin, tall gentleman with his hat pulled down low. His gaze was not anything but curious, even kind.

Panic took up inside me. I did not know why, but something about the man filled me with dread. My breathing quickened, my heart shot in my chest, and the thought in my mind keep me telling to move far away from this place. The man almost looked alarmed at my reaction.

I ran. My sudden movement sent the horse into a whinny, but by that point, I didn't care. I ran as fast as I could, feet slipping on the patchy ice and gravel that coated the ground as I sprinted down the street. Curious townspeople turned to watch, their faces all melting into a blur as I fled.

I gasped at the effort, my lungs burning, my legs vibrating, and yet still I ran. I weaved thinly around the town, dodging buildings made of wood and shop fronts full of activity, impelled by one thought: the forest, to be alone.

I plunged into the forest, the crunch of snow underfoot familiar, quite the relief after the hard, cold floor of the town. The branches seemed to reach and claw as I turned around corners in my flight, but I didn't slow down. My face stung with the cold air, but it was such a small price.

Thudding hooves, heavy and mocking, suddenly penetrated my ears, getting louder by the second. Was I being chased? Had the man sent someone after me?

I glanced over my shoulder, just hardly getting a look. A rider galloping between the trees, and terror spat at me all over me again.

Nearer and nearer the horseman drew, and I stumbled, my foot catching on some hidden root beneath the snow. I hit hard, the impact being one of the worst feelings ever to shake my core. Before I could scramble to my feet, the horseman had sped ahead, cutting off my escape between the trees.

I jerked up my head, blurry eyed by the tears of fear and exhaustion. There he was. James. He reined in his horse, blocking my way. The expression on his face spitting with anger. His eyes peered into mine for answers.

"What in the name of God were you thinking?" he hollered, his voice cutting at me. "What good is running like that? They’ll think you're an outlaw with all that foolishness!"

I buried my face in my hands, the hot tears burning my cold cheeks, the remnants of snow clinging to my skin.

As he watched me break down, James's anger melted into something else. He dismounted, the crunch of boots in the snow brought him closer. "Look," he said now, his voice gentled, "What was all that about?"

My mind was a puzzle with too many missing pieces.I felt embarrassed for having been so spooked by someone harmless.

James hunched down beside me, his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay now," he whispered. "You're safe. But I think I want to ask you more about this."

While his words made my stomach queasy at the thought of trying to remember all those awful things, let alone anything from my past, which had been completely erased from my memory.

Nodding, still unable to speak, I let him help me to my feet. My legs wobbled but James's arm around my waist kept me steady enough.

"Clarice," he said gently, "right nearby, I got a little camp set up. It's safe. You want to go there? I’ll take care of ya."

His voice was so calm and casual in compparison with the chaos that had rent me from my hiding place. I took a deep breath, the cold air sharp in my lungs, and nodded. "Please..."

He gave me a small smile. "You're welcome. C’mon now honey, we ain’t got all mornin’."

The forest was so thick and it was very dark near by, and as we finally mounted and rode off, I began to gain some trust in James, believing that he really would take care of me like he said.

[slowd1ving]

Kim Dokja with a Sung Jinwoo!Reader and their supporting constellation is Six-Eared Macaque

BAKHT ⁺ ✦ KIM DOKJA

"An existence as lonely as yours... chance has not been kind to you, it seems." It was neither choice nor good fortune that flung you into the rift that divided worlds: suspended in a limbo not of your own making, in a world with no dungeons like yours but 'scenarios' instead. Only the Story reaching its [◼◼◼] and you protecting the protagonist would guarantee your return, but how were you supposed to do that when the 'protagonist' you were meant to protect kept dying? honestly it's been a while since I read both solo levelling and orv so the plot is a bit hazy. I told myself to focus more on the actual interaction so it wouldn't snowball into storybuilding like the rest of my works... but alas... honestly this ask was extremely interesting like I've never read journey to the west but a sung jinwoo/six eared macaque collab??? damn me when I focus on tense first encounters rather than the lovey dovey aspect of relationships.. jokes aside it does get somewhat soft at the very end fun fact bakht refers to fortune in arabic, or rather finding luck in 'chance'; which unfortunately our reader doesn't seem to have a lot of... art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! pairing: kim dokja + sung jinwoo gn reader warnings: canon typical danger, mentions of death, also they're not really on the best of terms initially?? quite graphic depictions of blood wc: 2.7k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Tonight, the wind carried only premonition in its whispers. It started like all the stories did—the ones that reached your ears, at least. Beginning as a gentle breeze, the songs twining past and future turned coarse as a gale once they encountered the pixelated appendages that seemed to have a life of their own: six downy auricles that were unable to decide whether to stay in the virtual realm or materialise themselves. 

Most of the time, they hid in the umbrous kingdom—much like the rest of your shadows. When you donned the façade of the humans from Planetary System 8612, the tales you could eavesdrop on were mere gossip slinking in from the future and the bygone past—tidbits of paltry information that were perhaps divine retribution for not proudly donning the Six-Eared Macaque’s ‘crown’, as he seemed to put it. 

But tonight was different. Tonight, the mellifluous litany of your flute was sharper than usual as you idled the time away. Tonight, with only the vast night shielding you and the countless shadows skulking on the rooftop, their dance appeared wilder. There was frenzy in the air, and prophecy tainting the cold, canorous wind. 

It tasted acerbic. 

‘Danger… horizon…. Dokja….’

The frequency soured the melody that brushed past the fur of your six-ears, and they flicked, irritably. 

[The Fake Monkey King warns of something afoot.]

“I know,” you bitterly commented. Something was always afoot when it came to this world in which you did not belong. Falling past the veil separating a dungeon from nothingness wasn’t meant to happen. Your system subsequently trapping you in this limbo until you reached [◼◼◼◼◼], too, wasn’t meant to happen either. Let the Story run its course and protect its ‘protagonist’, and this dimension will naturally collapse just enough that you’ll fall through back into yours. 

Kim Dokja, you’d repeated like a mantra while you lost your mind—over and over while your system glitched and protested in this limbo. Over and over, while he died and died and died some more. You’d bought and earned and fought for various potions, weapons and clothes to help him with his scenarios—leaving them in his vicinity where you knew he’d stumble across them—but it was all so fucking futile. 

Each time, he returned past the veil; each time, you sank into a deeper mire of restriction. You hadn’t spoken to another soul in months: imprisoned in the very shadows you controlled. It wasn’t as bad, initially: you could still talk to people uninvolved in the ‘Story’, the poor souls dubbed as extras—so long as you didn’t cause any ripples with your actions. If Dokja was accounted for through both the soldiers in his shadow, and the whispers that reached the six ears that fanned out behind your head, it would be fine. 

‘Hazard… kilometre north of Dokja’s camp….’

A kilometre. You’d be quiet. You always were. 

Dokja. Dokja. Dokja. Your face soured as you exchanged places with Beru: ready to silently act as his guardian shadow, though if he was determined to sacrifice himself… Both of you would pay a price.

The silence in the city was razor-sharp and just as deadly, to the point you could hear the ionic buzz of your summoned demonic knives. Their ozonic scent bitterly filled your mouth, which only amplified the acerbic profanities mingling on your tongue as you glanced around for the danger. What danger? You’d be damned before you were sent back to that empty desert to reflect your wrongdoings. There was no chance to gain anything there—just endless time, chipping your sanity away and stirring up derision for the one who couldn’t solve anything without dying. 

Because in the end, both of you would pay the price, and he didn’t even know it. He became a constellation, while you were shackled to a prison that was never of your own making. 

Examining the wreck of this urban landscape that felt too much like the Seoul you knew, you came to the abrupt conclusion that there was nothing. Even when your six-ears flicked this way and that, it was too silent. Not a whisper, nor any trace of danger lingered in this space; such an occurrence was nigh-impossible in the scenario-laden dome of this city. 

[The Prisoner of the G◼◼◼en Headband expres◼◼◼◼ his mistrust.] 

Sun Wukong. A flash of hatred that was not your own wracked your body, complete with a burning envy and something far more insidious than anything you’d ever experienced, 

Crackling messages began interfering with your system screen. You’d only seen this once—when you accidentally intruded on the fringes of the ‘Star Stream’ as an ‘unauthorised one’. An anomaly if you ever saw one. 

“There’s nothing,” you muttered callously, scraping the tip of your blade against concrete ruins. If it had been a false alarm, then it was time to leave before you risked paying the penalty. Your job was simple—keep watch of the ‘protagonist’ from the shadows, and make his life somewhat easier. 

[A nameless constellation argues that advertisements are simply a part of life, and that it’s not a big deal to build suspense.]

That’s weird. The messages were getting clearer, but the warning signs that typically appeared in the system windows weren’t there. 

Your own supporting constellation was far too quiet as you sheathed your knife in the shadow dimension—the darkness cradled the weapon softly before it vanished, though the familiar whish could not soothe the unease that distorted your mind. Never had the six-ears failed to pinpoint hazards, as close to omniscient that they were.

“Got you,” something—someone—whispered from afar, the moment you stepped on the next broken slab of pavement and triggered a tripwire. A paltry toy, golden string that was incandescent in this darkened city, wrapped tightly around your body; right before you were shoved against a concrete wall. “You’re not the only one to see the ‘outcome’.”

Stand down, Igris, you commanded as the stranger continued to press into you; you could sense the turbulent shadows growing even more agitated at your position, though all of them could feel the ease with which you could’ve snapped out of the rope that was no more than a thread. The stream was eerily silent, while the glassy window only you could see kept its cold azure colour—nothing like the glaring scarlet that informed you of your penalty. 

Who is this? 

In the darkness, you made out the shape of a mouth pressed into a thin line. Dark hair partially swept over the stranger’s eyes, while a long white coat draped itself over his shoulders. But it wasn’t the garb, nor was it the features that alerted you of just who this was. 

It was the umbrous cloud of his soul, the very one you’d been tracking all these weeks. 

“Kim Dokja,” you greeted, half-placidly, half in intrigue. If he could bend the rules of life and death to suit him, you supposed that bending some more rules wouldn’t hurt. The interest was quickly replaced by irritation—for this was the very charge that had continuously shackled you to the in-betweens of the Seoul dome. Not quite a human from this planet, nor a monster—just an abominable anomaly that didn’t belong in this ‘Story’ at all. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

There was a polite smile on your face, but he only scoffed in disbelief. “What the hell are you playing at? Who are you? You think leaving all those materials for me to find will somehow increase your chances to survive? Why are you doing this?”

Incredulity laced each syllable. The Ugliest King stared hard at the face of the Shadow Monarch, though he didn’t know it. 

You sympathised, you really did. Having someone trail after you (though he hadn’t mentioned your shadows—did he even notice them?) and leave you useful items might have been convenient to some, but chronic overthinkers (as Beru had reported to you from his shade) wouldn’t see it as such. 

But it wasn’t like you had a choice not to, either. 

“I just want to get back home.” For the first time, there was a hint of the welling annoyance that seeped through the cracks in your courteous expression: in your grinding molars, in the slight squint of your eyes. Babysitting this guy should have never been part of your job.

Don’t affect the story.

You pressed your lips together to avoid the tide of complaints that swept in. Why do you keep dying? Do you know how much it sucks whenever you do? Why the fuck was I put on babysitting duty?

“Just take the things,” you gritted out instead; to which a sharp blade stung the side of your neck. Quick, but not quick enough to pose a true threat to you. “They were annoying to farm, you know that?”

“I never asked for them, nor do I need them to reach where I want to be. You were never in the original— I can’t exactly trust you now, can I?” he scowled—more ill-tempered than Beru had included in his periodic reports. In a mere second, you surged: as fluid and fast as quicksilver, slamming the guy you’d grown to abhor into the cold, harsh asphalt. There was no apology dripping from your lips this time, only a snarling, bloodied grit of teeth when the penalty began etching into your skin as a direct consequence of laying hands on the ‘untouchable’ protagonist. 

Sensing your distress, the six-ears materialised around your face—like they were countering the drip-drip of sanguine that slinked from your nose and onto the shirt of the man beneath you. You watched as you sullied the protagonist you were forced to stay away from—tainted in a way that was sure to finally end you. His dark eyes, too, traced the motion of each crimson rivulet: chest rising and falling desperately as he felt the very real, razor-sharp edge of his own knife lightly against his jugular. 

“Listen, I never asked for this either,” you hissed. “Believe it or not, I too want you to reach the conclusion of this shitshow so I can get back home. You need to stay alive for that. I’ll wait.”

The pressure in your head intensified. 

“I don’t know how you got past the restrictions on me—” Your grip on his shirt loosened as carmine began seeping into the system window. “—but I can’t stay here any longer without repercussions. Neither can I interfere with the story nor escape this hell—” Dark spots began floating in your vision, and the blade sliced into the concrete a hair's breadth away from his neck with a low-resonating chime. Maybe this was your only chance to make your job easier, without the loss of sanity that came with rule-breaking. “—but if you can’t trust me, trust that your accomplishment of your goal will allow me to get back to my own world as a result.”

“Wait–” Your body swayed as you stood, feeling the familiar frequency of the Stream boot up against the fine down of the six-ears. I don’t have time, you wanted to say, but iron was beginning to leave your lips too. 

[The Prisoner of the Golden Headband complains loudly that fraternising with the enemy is a horribly stupid move, pulling out his hair.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire is unsure of this development, and would like to be filled in on this stranger’s connection with the Prisoner of the Golden Headband..]

The Star Stream was… clear. Not filled with static like it had been before, but cogent enough that you could observe each message coherently. 

[The Star Stream has its eyes on you.]

A terrible foreboding surfaced, while your chest constricted with the sudden onslaught of red that assaulted your eyes—a cacophony of warning signs, all targeted at you. 

“What is that?” A hand that wasn’t yours reached for the crimson glow, and you jolted as the cerise shattered: reverting back to the familiar blue interface. The ache in your head, too, vanished—yet the buildup of fatigue was still present in your hazy mind. Though, the only thing you could register was the change in his voice as he observed the screen, an inkling of understanding as he watched the characters fade from existence:

Protect the ‘protagonist’ Kim Dokja. Let the Story run its course, and you will be able to return to your home world. 

{The Fourth Wall quietly observes the remnants of its meal.}

Gone, in a wave of his hand. That same hand, now held out to you as if it hadn’t just erased weeks’ worth of strain from your body: long, deft fingers reaching out to you. You could only stare as the world grew dim around you, as a faint voice brushed past the soft fur of your six-ears. 

‘Error… error… due to unprecedented actions ◼◼◼◼ taken by the protagonist, the system has now… updated to provide for a deuteragonist model… consi◼◼der standby… updating… updating… ◼◼◼◼◼◼   ◼◼◼◼ objective updated… reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming.’

“What the hell… did you do?” you slurred. The misguided loathing towards him had dissipated into a tumultuous state of frenzy; you could feel the shadows within stir with the agitation of your mind, though you fought to keep your cards at bay. Rather than the hilt of your familiar sword, you thumbed the worn edge of your flute in a last bid to stay calm. 

“‘Reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming’, huh?” The incredulity you felt at him repeating the words that only you ever heard was overshadowed by the bone-deep exhaustion you felt. 

“Was… being honest,” you mumbled for the last time, fully expecting to feel the frigid asphalt as you collapsed and your eyes came to a close. The lingering penalties had finally taken effect, yet you didn’t quite hit the hard concrete like you anticipated. Rather, you collided against a wiry frame that, despite its initial gauntness, was far warmer than anything you’d felt in these apocalyptic weeks. “I might’ve died if I continued interfering.”

“You won’t die.” The words ghosted over your ear as he stared down at the person in his arms who’d been tracking him for weeks. They’d been a constant pain and irritated him to no end, especially with all the gifts he received that he’d never read about in TWSA; and there was nothing he hadn’t read about in TWSA save for the epilogue. “I won’t let you.”

His very headache was now slumbering in his arms, with only the ambition of going home on their mind. 

What a lonely existence. 

Maybe you heard him. Maybe you didn’t. All he knew was that he was crafting an epilogue that would shake this very world to its roots, and perhaps there was a small, you-sized shape cut out just for the person snoozing their little heart out. He had a feeling he had only breached the outermost layer of you; peeling back only the very dermis to reveal someone far too overpowered to compete with most of the dome. 

Dokja’s thumb traced the bloody lines staining your face. You could faintly feel them; then, abruptly, the citrus smell that lingered on him grew sharper. Closer. A soft pressure applied itself to the crown of your head: fleeting, silvery. What was that?

It was everything that had been forcibly taken from you after you were brought past the void. 

With something that was suspiciously close to a smile, your mind drifted away in the arms of someone who both damned you and saved you. 

　⁺ ✦

“If Igris and Yoo Joonghyuk fought, who would win?” 

“Igris,” you answered without missing a beat. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in your face as you opened your mouth, and it was so strong that he almost believed that your Commander could beat the true ‘protagonist’ of this world. “And if he lost, I’d win for him.”

This! This was his chance to get back at that squid bastard! 

“...Want to test your hypothesis?”

[orphiclovers]

Thoughts on yjh and body horror?

Hmm, some. I think Yoo Joonghyuk's whole deal is a lot more often about mental anguish as opposed to physical. Regression resets all his wounds and scars except the mental ones, so those are the ones that take a massive toll on him. 'Hell of Eternity' is hell because he can never escape his own memories. He is weak to mental attacks but his body is usually near indestructible.

Secretive Plotter's damage is the 'curse of immortality' and his only motivation is finding eternal rest, so that's all mental. Even outergodification is a mental process. Losing his appearence as a 'human' was a secondary side effect to losing his identity as 'Yoo Joonghyuk' and just asthetically speaking, turning into a shadow person isn't really 'body horror' to me, which I associate more with viscera and flesh, not cold and clean intangibility.

I'm not just bringing up SP because I have brain worms (also that) but because there is a specific regression that I think does exemplify 'body horror', and that's 999, baby!

Hear me out. I don't say this soley due to 999's lack of limbs, since there's nothing inherently horror about being an amputee (though removing his own eyes is a bit saw trap energy not going to lie) BUT because his was the one regression where his main problem wasn't mental - he had all his companions, was as happy as one could be in an apocalypse - but the fact that his physical body failed him. He didn't die in battle, but instead wasted away due to the 'outer world covenant'.

Kim Dokja might be self-sacrifical but this guy was on another level.

999 didn't hesitate to take hits for his companions, which is how he lost his limbs, and at the same time he borrowed an outer god's powers to win battles (I'm imaganing a chaos version of advent of a half-god) , which probably looked really epic, but unforunatley was at the expence of his soul. The covenant ate away at him piece by piece, and it's said his 'bloodstream went haywire until he couldn't walk or use his skills' (the translation was wonky here but you get it) which I take to mean he had some kind of cell damage, kind of like radiation or chemo.

This was a years long process, from when he first signed the Outer World Covenant up until the 99th scenario, and that whole time he kept borrowing those powers even though he saw it was killing him. What I mean is, it probably didn't look or feel great to see him falling apart, but the level of gore is reader's choice to imagine (anywhere from a tasteful coughing up blood and nosebleeds, to skin peeling off and hair falling out etc.).

Oh and since I know you would enjoy this, I'll say this too.

I don't think Secretive Plotter knew what he would do to 999.

He meant to save 999, not kill him.

This was almost assuredly his first Outer World Convenant, since I figure changing the 999th regression was the first thing he tried to do after he gained the ability to worldline hop/ had the tiniest bit of control over his outer god powers. He was still young and hopeful - 'foolish' as the Secrerive Plotter reminices. But he clearly fucked something up badly, maybe since he didn't have the clear grasp of probability manipulation that he developed in the next thousands of years or tried to directly change too much.

Canon era, he gives both KDJ and HSY a covenant just fine and they don't have any issues from it. (He's very careful to take the probability on himself - remember the finger thing?)

I wonder how horrified young SP was to see 999 destroying himself using SP as the method. Did he try to back out at some point, but couldn't due to the covenant? Did he try to make 999 stop, which he of course refused to do? I think about them a lot.

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“Looks like your loyalty was worth nothing.” Steph said, the man grunted and pressed the barrel of the gun even tighter, your panic levels spiking up at realizing the man had no reason to keep you alive now. And so, the gun went off.

Chapter 9 < > Chapter 11

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

Everyone that could was running, getting away from the men who began shooting in the air to scare everyone, screams, crying and laughing were everywhere, with the men ordering everyone to turn in everything of value.

“Stay. Here.” Cass ordered you, leaving you behind a counter inside one of the food establishments, changing into a simple, black sweatshirt you’d bought and putting on a domino mask she grabbed from who knows where.

You raised your head a bit over the counter, noticing both Steph and Damian were wearing the same. Had they been carrying the masks the whole time? Did they have a secret stash with their uniforms all over the city?

“Pretty low for you to hit on a mall, Two-Face.” Steph taunted him. Damian hidden behind a turned over table, speaking to something in his ear, most likely asking for backup, as they didn’t have their whole gear. “Is it the age? You can’t hit on banks anymore?”

“SHUT UP!” The raspy voice screamed, a shot ringing through now the mostly empty food court. His good face was facing your side, it was obvious to anyone that he’d been —still is— quite handsome, a heartbreaker that changed into a bonebreaker.

The thugs had moved all the unlucky citizens who hadn’t had the chance to escape to a circle in the middle of the food court, one of the henchmen with his finger closer to the trigger than you would like to, but as much as you wanted to help, you had no idea how, and knew you would be more of a distraction to the vigilantes rather than helpful.

Cass was nowhere to be seen, Steph was still taunting Two-Face, and Damian hadn’t moved from his place behind the table, his eyes focused on the hostages and the nearest exits.

The revving of a bike was getting closer and closer, and time slowed down; from the hole in the wall, a blur of red and black jumped inside the mall, jumping off his bike and pulling out two guns from the holsters inside his jacket, shooting at the goons pointing at the hostages, their guns clattering to the floor, where a shadow landed on them with enough force and precision to break the triggers.

“Hey, jackass.” Red Hood’s voice modulator reverberated. “Pick on someone your size.”

Chaos ensued. Both Red Hood and Cass were battling the goons, with Hood getting closer and closer to Two-Face. He was hell bent on spending his whole magazine on Steph, the blonde dodging every bullet, so Jason was using the distraction for his advantage. Damian had hurriedly run towards the hostages and directing them towards an exit, a lost toddler separated from her family in his arms.

It was mesmerizing to see them in action, wordlessly communicating and moving with such finesse and grace only someone who had several years of experience could do.

And while you were obsessing over them —most specifically, Jason—, you failed to notice a man sneaking on you, a dirty hand covering your mouth, the other with a gun to your head.

Seriously, twice in less than a month?

The goon forced you to stand up, leaving your hiding spot and out into the open area.

“Leave the boss alone or I’ll blow her head off.”

Just like that, the fighting ceased.

“I swear if you do anything to her, I’ll—”

“Oh, ho, did I pick a lucky one?” The man mocked him, his putrid breath invading your nose. “Is this the big, bad, Red Hood’s little bitch? I said, let the boss go or she gets it.”

Your wide eyes could only see the white eyes of his helmet, but you wanted, needed to see his face, to see those emerald eyes and tell you everything was going to be alright.

Not a second had passed that the glove holding the charred arm of the rogue let go, the man wasted not time on pointing his gun towards the vigilantes, grabbing a bag that’d been filled with the belongings of the hostages and escaped through the hole in the wall.

“Looks like your loyalty was worth nothing.”

Steph said, the man grunted and pressed the barrel of the gun even tighter, your panic levels spiking up at realizing the man had no reason to keep you alive now.

And so, the gun went off.

———

“I’m… Really sorry.”

“It’s alright, Steph.”

“I sweat this doesn’t happen often.”

The paramedics checked you over, letting you go back home at seeing you didn’t have any injury besides the imprint of the gun, that should disappear soon.

Cass, Steph, and Damian had changed the black hoodies for their regular clothes, the domino masks hidden in their pockets. Red Hood was talking to Commissioner Gordon, going over what had happened.

As soon as Alfred saw you walk out into the parking lot, he walked over the four of you, worried, his focus shifting mainly to you once he’d learned about the incident, going back inside the car after assuring him for the umpteenth time that you were fine.

You were now standing under the midday sun in the now mostly empty parking lot; the paramedics were wrapping up treating the hostages, thankfully the worst some people needed were bandages for scratches made with the debris from the explosion.

Jason had finished talking with the police and was now making his way towards you.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing you said to him. “If I’d been paying attention, he… He wouldn’t have caught me.” He was now being shoved in the back of a police car, the ringing from the shot still in your ears, a sound the paramedics had explained would disappear on its own. “Two-Face wouldn’t have escaped.”

“It’s alright, Jane.” The mechanical voice said. If you had your druthers, you would prefer to hear his deep, sweet voice, not a robot, but you would take what you could get. “These things happen, we’ll catch him, don’t worry. Now, you.” He said while looking at Damian, who had been unusually quiet and with pink tinted cheeks the whole time. “That shit you pulled was dangerous, Jane could’ve been badly hurt.”

“I saved her, did I not?”

“More by miracle than anything else. We’ll talk about it later, and I will tell Dickhead about this.”

“Tt.”

Damian got inside the car, closing the door with more force than necessary. Both Cass and Steph got inside as well, leaving the door opened for you.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be.”

“Hm.” With his helmet on, you couldn’t even guess what he was thinking or looking at, with just a slight movement of his head that looked as if he was checking on you, not trusting your words. “I need to get my bike back before some idiot tries to steal it. I’ll see you at the manor, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks, Ja—Hood.”

———

Even with all the chaos, your new clothes had been safe underneath one of the tables, now putting them away in the dresser that’d laid empty for several weeks now.

While walking out of the walk-in closet, a small figure outside your room startled you, a hand going up your chest. “Damian! You scared me.”

“That was the intention.”

You scoffed, with a fond smile on your face, grabbing another shirt from the bed, putting it on a hanger.

“Is there something you need?”

“I—” He shifted from side to side, once again rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together. “It appears the course of action I took this morning could have ended in an unfortunate result. Regardless, I would like to appeal to my case by—”

“Damian.” You left the hanger on the bed, taking three big steps to put your arms around his face, leaving a gentle kiss on top of his head. “Thank you for saving me.”

You expected him to get defensive, to push you away with something along the lines of ‘do not touch me, you imbecile.’, but you were surprised by how easy he relaxed in your embrace, his head lolling to the side and resting on your shoulder.

Just when was the last time someone had hugged him?

“Are… Are your ears better? Shall I call Pennyworth?”

“No, I’m fine. They don’t ring anymore.” You rustled his hair, this time earning a small groan from him, and went back inside the room. “Wanna help me put these away?”

Damian was full of surprises today; in lieu of escaping from the chore, he followed you inside, sitting with his legs crossed on your bed, simply handing you the hangers. It wasn’t the help you needed, but it was the one expected of a ten-year-old, glad he was behaving like one.

“So, San Francisco, huh? You were with the Titans?”

“Teen Titans, yes. Father sent me there for the summer to… ‘learn’ teamwork.” He quoted the word ‘teamwork’. “Useless, I do not need anyone else, I have gone against several high-trained assassins, unscathed. A simpleton like Mad Hatter could hardly best me, even if I were gravely injured.”

“There’s a difference between fighting trained, controlled people and fighting unstable ones.” Your voice was muffled from the walls of the closet, getting clearer when you walked out. “You might think you can predict their movements, but they could do something else entirely different.”

“Thus, you are saying I should do a deeper analysis of their personalities to comprehend and predict their actions and movements.”

“No.” You groaned, sitting next to him. “Forget everything I said. Teamwork is important, for starters, fights can end quicker and with less, or no casualties than if you were alone. Imagine this; you need to reach something on a high shelf, but it’s way taller than you, and there are no chairs or ladders around, and you can’t climb it because it’s fragile and adding more weight will break it. So, what do you do? Recognize your limitations and ask for help, or climb the shelve, destroying it?”

“I… Assume the shelf are the civilians that could get hurt if I attempt to do so on my own?”

“Exactly.” That was absolutely not what you had in mind, but it was clever as hell, so you took it. “The smartest of people are those that recognize where they lack in knowledge and abilities, the ones that are not afraid to ask for help. Ignorants are those who believe they know it all and refuse to learn.”

“She’s right, you know.” A third voice said, how long had he been there? “She called you an ignorant for not wanting to learn to work in a team.”

“Jason.” You exclaimed, curtly. Him walking into your room and spinning the desk chair, arms resting on the back rest. “That is not what I said.”

“Father always tells the League he works alone.”

“If by ‘alone’ you mean him and all his children, sure.”

"I... Shall think about it."

Damian all but escaped your room, leaving you and Jason in silence. He was looking out the window, the light drizzle that’d started as soon as you got to the manor was hitting your window, the soft pity-patter the only sound. You stood up, resuming your chore of putting everything away.

“So, what was that about? The whole ‘teamwork is good’ and all that.”

“I asked him what he was doing in San Francisco. He said Bruce sent him there.”

“Oh yeah.” He turned to look at you. “I was there when Bruce made the choice. The Demon Spawn deserved it, truly. Almost ruined the whole mission.”

A frown appeared on your face. “With his dad saying ‘I work alone’ all the time, are you really surprised he tries to do everything by himself? Not to mention the kind of place he was raised for the first eight years of his life. You can’t really just say ‘hey, don’t do this’ and expect him to stop, specially not when the rest of his family is doing the opposite.”

You popped your head out of the closet, thinking maybe he’d left you talking alone when you didn’t hear the expected retort.

He was deep in thought, elbows resting on the backrest, his fists covering his mouth.

“Whatever, Timmbers says there’s something you should see in the cave.”

———

You hadn’t been in the cave after the incident. As impressive as it was, there just wasn’t a reason for you to be down here, not to mention it brought back memories of that night, feeling queasy about your close encounter with Scarecrow.

When Jason told you to come down here, you were half-expecting to see the portal opened, or at least some plans on how to get back, or something related to your situation, but the gun laid still discarded on a table.

There were voices down there, recognizing the cheerful one as Dick’s.

“Yeah, Timmy’s been working on it non-stop, he’s made great advancements, but he was straining himself, even more than usual, so I benched him from the cave until he’s slept for at least eight hours straight.”

A rich, booming chuckle was heard, follow by a voice you naturally associate with that of a natural leader, a great voice to give out speeches and fill people with hope.

“We’re working on it as well, but I don’t—Oh, you must be Jane!” Right there, in front of you, was the buffiest man you’d ever seen, a vibrant cape billowing behind him, wearing a tight, blue and red suit. “Nice to meet you, my name is—”

“Superman.” You said in awe, voice small but not an issue for him to hear, cautiously walking to him. “You’re—you’re really him.” Dick chuckled, and just now you noticed he was filming your reaction with his phone.

“I’m really me.” He laughed. “I was told you wanted to meet me.”

“You’re—But… Whoa.” You were acting like an idiot. “Can you really fly?”

He nodded. “Would you like to see the sunset at two thousand meters?”

[in1-nutshell]

I am so sorry if I’m bombarding you with asks, but I just had an idea with Op’s daughter being the opposite and Meg’s daughter being the opposite

And my stupid brain just went “.. Hey! What if their both in the same universe, cuz why not lol-“ like that one BW post with Dinobot’s and Wasp’s sparklings! :3

Bonus: Maybe their both in a secret relationship as the years go by, and probably kept in touch (and secretly meet each other) when the war started. But lost contact/not keeping in touch when OP launched the all spark.

And extra bonus!: them revealing their secret relationship with the autobots when Meg’s daughter joined with the autobots :3

Okay, so I didn't add in the romance part of this because I believe that both Buddy's view each other more as siblings than anything else. If you are unhappy at this request, feel free to request something else when the inbox is open again.

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron's daughter and Optimus's daughter with the opposite personality, What if they lived in the same universe?

SFW, Platonic, Familial, mentions of injuries but nothing graphic, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Op Buddy name Maxima.

Megs Buddy name Ophelia.

Optimus has already found Maxima, and they have been living together for a while now.

Megatron comes to their home with the sparkling in his servos on night.

Maxima opens the door.

“Hi Megatronus! What brings you—”--Maxima

Maxima spots the tiny sparkling.

“Is that a…”--Maxima

Megatronus nods.

“She is—”--Megatronus

“Orion! I think Megatronus stolen someone’s sparkling!”--Maxima

“He what?!”--Orion

“I didn’t steal her!”--Megatronus

Maxima became transfixed with the tiny sparkling and took her in while the adults are talking.

Ophelia takes a liking to Maxima.

When Ophelia comes, Maxima helps around with the babysitting so Orion can do his work.

Many bots think that Pax adopted another sparkling.

Ratchet walking into the Halls.

“Orion? Orion—”--Ratchet

Ratchet stops when he sees Maxima cuddling a small sparkling to her chassis while reading a data pad.

“Hello Ratchet, is there something you needed to tell me about?”--Orion

“That’s not important right now. Did you adopt another sparkling? You already have Maxima, I didn’t figure for one to get more.”--Ratchet

“No, Ophelia isn’t mine.”--Orion

Ratchet looks at Ophelia who is tilting her helm in confusion at Maxima, the same way Orion is tilting his.

“…Sure, she’s not yours.”--Ratchet

“She’s not. She’s Megatronus’s sparkling.”--Orion

“Ha! Like that brute of a gladiator—”--Ratchet

“Orion?”--Megatronus

Ophelia perks up and waves her servos at Megatronus in joy.

“You were saying?”--Orion

“… You win this round Pax.”--Ratchet

Ratchet loved his little nieces.

No matter how annoying they may get or get on his nerves, he loves them to bits.

Plus, they both liked helping him in the infirmary by disinfecting some of the tools at the end of the day.

Ophelia becomes Maxima’s shadow.

She wants to be like her one day.

Maxima goes where Ophelia goes when she can find a loophole in the babysitting rules.

The most common loophole was Maxima wanting to make sure Ophelia was safe in the quarters while Megatron and Soundwave were busy.

Soundwave rather enjoyed babysitting Ophelia and Maxima when they came around.

He often looked after the two whenever Megatronus was busy with some work, not that he minded too much.

As the pair got older, Maxima’s protective levels had gone through the roof seeing as she was getting bigger and Ophelia grew a bit, staying small.

Maxima watched her step while Ophelia was running around them.

Maxima looks at Orion.

“If I ever did this too you when I was smaller, I deeply apologize.”--Maxima

“It was nothing—”--Orion

“She’s so small! How can I make sure I don’t squish her?!”--Maxima

Later that day…

“Thank you again Orion. Where’s Ophelia?”--Megatronus

“She should be with Maxima. Maxima! Ophelia needs to go now.”--Orion

Maxima walks in with Ophelia strapped to her chassis with some magnets.

“Hi Megatronus! I found a way to not step on Ophelia!”--Maxima

Ophelia just smiles in encouragement.

The day of the Senate meeting was one neither daughter was going to forget.

Maxima and Ophelia were outside with Uncle Soundwave.

Soundwave needed to go see someone for a second before leaving the pair alone.

It wouldn’t be for long, a minute at most.

 The pair will never forget the enraged look on Megatron’s face when he comes storming out.

Maxima has a bad feeling about what happened there.

Maxima carefully puts Ophelia behind her.

“Megatronus? Megatronus what happened? Where’s Orion?”--Maxima

Megatron sneers at Maxima.

Both are shocked by this tone.

Megatron grabs Ophelia’s servo.

She squirms as his grip tightens.

“Megatronus’s your hurting m. Where’s Uncle Orion?”--Ophelia

“He is no longer your uncle.”--Megatron

He marches with Ophelia in his grip.

Maxima comes over and takes Ophelia’s servo.

“Megatronus you’re hurting her!”--Maxima

Megatron stops to look at her.

“Megatro—”--Maxima

SLAM!

Maxima’s frame goes flying over the barrier from the swift kick to the bot’s chassis.

“MAXIMA!”--Ophelia

“Megatron quickly grabs her under his arm and runs.

Maxima is falling off the building’s platform to the city below.

Something catches her pede right before hitting the floor.

She looks up to see a familiar faceplate.

“Soundwave?”--Maxima

Soundwave carefully places her down before flying off.

Maxima crawls to the wall of the alley and leans back on the wall.

There is a sizeable dent on her chassis with some sparks.

She tries to stand but falls.

“Maxima?! Maxima! Maxima can you hear me?!”--Ratchet

Maxima looks up.

“Ratchet? Ratchet over here!”--Maxima

Ratchet runs over to Maxima who starts crying seeing him.

“What happened?”--Ratchet

“Meg—Meg—Megatronus he—he…”--Maxima

Ratchet traces slightly the dent causing Maxima to wince.

“He did this?”--Ratchet

Maxima nods sadly.

“He took Ophelia Ratchet. He took Ophelia…”--Maxima

Maxima eventually gets reunited with Orion who looked scared to death seeing the dent on her chassis.

So close to her spark…

But she doesn’t care, right now she wants Ophelia.

“As soon as I get back to tip top shape, I’m going to get Ophelia.”--Maxima

“Maxima…”--Orion

“What?”--Maxima

“Maxima, we haven’t had any contact from either of them since the meeting.”--Ratchet

“Then… then we find them. Yeah, then we can take Ophelia…”--Maxima

Maxima tries to get up, but Orion pushes her down.

“No! Let me up! She’s my main priority! She needs me! I need her! She’s—She’s…”--Maxima

Maxima falls back to the berth.

Ratchet holding the wires.

“She needs to sleep…”--Ratchet

Orion nods and gently pats his daughter’s helm and slightly grieves for Ophelia, wherever she may be right now.

During the war, Maxima tried and get in contact with Ophelia multiple times.

No luck.

She even went as far as go on her own to rescue her, that’s how she ended up with half her pede blown off.

Time on earth…

Maxima still wants to try and break in to see Ophelia.

She worries a lot.

Was she even still online?

No, she was. There was still hope to hold onto.

One night Maxima makes another attempt to rescue Ophelia.

She managed to slip into a groundbrigde some of the Vechicons were using.

Maxima quietly sneaked around the Nemesis in search of Ophelia.

That’s when the screams started.

Maxima went to investigate.

The screams turned to pleas and now Maxima was running.

She passes several Vechicons on her way there, but they don’t do anything to her, if anything they were letting her pass.

Maxima was now in front of the door.

Maxima kicks down the door with her canons out.

Megatron was standing over a slightly older Ophelia.

Ophelia had multiple slashes and dents on her armor.

Megatron’s pede was square on her chassis.

Both of them are surprised to see her.

“Maxima?”--Megatron

“Maxima!”--Ophelia

Maxima readies her canons with fury in her optics.

“Megatron. I’m only going to tell you this one time and one time only. Let her go.”--Maxima

Ophelia whines a bit as he adds a bit more pressure on her chassis.

“And what makes you think I am going to listen to you.”--Megatron

“You’re hurting your own sparkling! Get off of her or I WILL use force!”--Maxima

Megatron scoffs.

“As if—”--Megatron

Maxima shoots him straight in the chassis and tackles him to the floor off of Ophelia.

Ophelia quickly moves out of the way as the two fight.

When it looked like Megatron was going to strike down, Maxima kicked him to the far corner of the room.

Maxima, despite bleeding from the multiple slashed and dents grabs Ophelia and runs out.

“Its great to see you again!”--Maxima

“To see me? I thought you were dead!”--Ophelia

“It takes more than a kick to get rid of me!”--Maxima

There are definitely more Vechicons around, but they pretend nothing happened or just move out of the way.

Knockout even told them the right direction to run.

The pair makes it to the main room.

Maxima places a bunch of obstacles in front of the main entrance as Ophelia manages to make a temporary groundbrigde working. One that would be quick and have no record in the database.

Soundwave stands by the main entrance.

Maxima aims her canons at him ready for another fight despite how much damage her frame was already in.

He just nods at Ophelia and leaves, closing the room’s door.

Maxima is confused by all of this but knows to ask questions later.

“Okay the bridge is ready!”--Ophelia

Maxima leans off the wall and walks to Ophelia.

“About time. Now lets—”--Maxima

“MAXIMA! OPHELIA!”--Megatron

Ophelia freezes in utter fear as the sounds of pede steps get closer.

Maxima grabs Ophelia and starts heading to the bridge as Megatron comes into the room.

He yells as he fires his fusion canon into the closing portal.

On the other side, the two fall down on the desert ground.

Ophelia looks at the night sky in amazement.

“We did it? We did it! Maxima we did it!”--Ophelia

“Yeah… we…”--Maxima

A heavy groan escapes Maxima’s mouth as she struggles to stand up.

Maxima quickly comes over to see what was wrong.

To her horror she saw Maxima’s shoulder bleeding profusely.

Megatron shot her.

“Maxima! Don’t worry I’ll think of something!”--Ophelia

Maxima groans in pain trying to keep her and Ophelia calm.

“Well, this sucks.”--Maxima

“Stop it! Save your energy. You’re going to make it. You didn’t come all this way to save me just to offline just like that!”--Ophelia

Maxima gives her a weak smile.

She reaches for her waist and pushes a button.

“SOS button. They’ll be here soon…”--Maxima

Ophelia does her best to try and slow the energon leaking from Maxima’s shoulder.

“…You got bigger?”--Maxima

Ophelia laughs weakly.

“Yeah… Yeah I got bigger.”--Ophelia

“No… stay small.”--Maxima

“I’m a minibot Maxima. I’m not getting any bigger.”--Ophelia

“Yeah…”--Maxima

“Maxima?”--Ophelia

“…”--Maxima

“Maxima!”--Ophelia

“…”--Maxima

MAXIMA!”--Ophelia

The groundbrigde opens up.

Ophelia hugs Maxima’s helm thinking that it could be the Decepticon’s.

Out comes Optimus and Ratchet with wide optics.

“HELP HER! HELP HER!”--Ophelia

Optimus wastes no time in carefully picking up Maxima’s frame while Ophelia ran with Ratchet into the groundbrigde.

Optimus puts Maxima down on the med slab as Ratchet gets everything ready to begin the patch work.

Ophelia was sobbing clutching Maxima’s limp servo.

Optimus tried to get Ophelia away from Maxima so Ratchet could work but she flinches thinking he was going to attack.

Optimus bends down to Ophelia’s level.

Ophelia is clinging onto Maxima’s servo shaking like a leaf.

He notices the similar slashes and dents on her frame as well.

“Little one, I am going to pick up now. Is that okay?”--Optimus

Ophelia hesitates but nods slowly letting go of Maxima’s servo.

Optimus carries her to the med slab beside Maxima.

“Did Megatron do this. To the both of you?”--Optimus

Ophelia nods feeling more tears come out.

Optimus slowly goes to hug Ophelia, but she just jumps straight into his arms seeing as he was trying to hug her.

Once Ratchet tells them that Maxima is stable and just needs rest the others come in as Ophelia lets out some tears of relief.

Ratchet looks over her wounds and notices similar dents and slashes to Maxima’s.

He looks at Optimus for confirmation, he nods back.

Ratchet’s spark sinks as he patches up Ophelia and notices the older wounds that had to be addressed.

Optimus made sure to let the team know what had happened and about Ophelia’s situation, with her knowledge of course.

The team makes some attempts to introduce themselves and get to know Ophelia, something that Ophelia is grateful for.

The next morning Maxima wakes up to Ophelia clutching her servo and with a new autoboot badge on her shoulder.

Maxima smiles tiredly at Ophelia squeezing her servo slightly.

“I told you it takes more than that to take me down.”--Maxima

Ophelia lets out a small laugh.

“Yeah, that’s what I get for doubting you again, huh?”--Ophelia

Maxima smiles but winces a bit.

Optimus comes into view.

“Hey…”--Maxima

Optimus pats Maxima’s helm gently.

“Despite going against orders and commands, you did bring back a piece of our family. Well, done Maxima.”--Optimus

Maxima’s optics slowly close.

Ophelia gets worried.

“Maxima?”--Ophelia

Ratchet walking over with the wires.

“She’s fine, just needs some rest.”—Ratchet

Ophelia smiles and gently holds Maxima’s servo as she too gently goes to sleep.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Ello!

Love your blog!

Can I request a female hunter reader where she’s looks frightening and intimidating to the survivors but she’s actually very gentle and doesn’t like to hurt them , she doesn’t talk much. She’s very curious of them and finds them very cute, due to that she doesn’t strike them down during the matches she just catches them in her arms and places them gently on the chairs, while camping she likes to examine them closer, for the female survivors she looks at their makeup and plays with their outfits while for the male survivors she likes to boop their nose and play with their hair while giggling. And *cough* *cough* when carrying the male survivors to the chairs she sneakily purposely presses them closer to her *cough* mellonsssss just to tease and see their reaction (she’s a bit of a flirt)

Wasnt sure how to write this but hope you like it.

I based this off a indie game i played lol

It no secret among the out "gods" of your curiosity towards humans. Hastur claims they are all selfish and greedy creatures, and Cthulhu can claim the same. You, a creature formed by Azathoth, you have seen many of your Creator realms and have decided to study the reality of this world. Nightingale allowed you to see the manor, her domain as long as you respect her rules.

Though she knows a young deity like you will have no want to hunt nor kill humans, she still asks for you to partake in her games.

The last human you where with, in another reality, was detective who was solving a case about the both the death of his father and cult. His mind was amazing to lurk in, and his life exciting to shadow behind. Sadly, he died after solving the case in order to seal a portal going to allow Cthulhu to enter (know him he would have destroyed that realm for disturbing him).

The ones called 'survivors', are fascinating! None, or few, are good people. Most are mentally broken, easy to toy with; others seem to be trying to fight for future only this 'prize' can provide.

When you caught the survivor known as 'perfumer', you felt pity for her but level of shame for the woman. To kill one's kin out of jealousy is an age old tale you are aware. You then found another named 'lawyer' who you are disgusted by. His greed and selfish caused the death and abandonment of a father and a daughter.

You are quite gentle with these humans compared to those like Night Watch or The Ripper, those too seem to feed on the fear of the humans being hunted. The one hunter you enjoy the space of is 'Geisha' or Michiko as she informed you. She does not get a thrill from killing others but she cannot help herself.

You do like this one survivor, he reminds you of your detective. Orpheus, you believe his name is. The meaning behind the name is not lost to you, it even adds to the charm. Hm, no there are others you like too. Priestess and Seer, for they seem to be the only ones to know you are no normal or limited hunter like the others. You do not kill for thrills, you chair them as per the rules. The conversations with them is quite amusing. Enchantress too, though she did attempt to stab you when she thought you a threat. Another you enjoy studying is 'Prisoner' his mind is mess but it holds many, many treasures of inventions.

Oh, it so hard to claim a favorite! You love to hold them close to your chest to feel their life close to your unreal one. Flesh and blood, a heartbeat, they are alive! Though you have been told but both Embalmer and Grave Keeper not to hold them in such an improper manner-- Though you do not like using the balloons to hold them up in the air, it seems rather silly.

[justme315]

Tiny Best Friend 5/5

Final Part

First part:

Previous part:

!warning!

angst, vore mention, vore scare, ¿abuse?, treating a person as an animal, vimioting, blood, curse words

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

When Jake began to regain consciousness, everything was different than before. His back and chest hurt terribly, he was also lying on something cold and hard, like... metal? He felt dizzy and had a hard time opening his eyes. He also had a bit of a gag reflex and the taste of blood in his mouth. Despite his sincere intentions, he was unable to sit down and see what was happening around him. He also heard ringing in his ears, but after a while the noise stopped and what he heard was... unusual. Someone was humming a tune. He recognized it, but couldn't remember where from. The voice seemed familiar to him too. He tried hard to open his eyes again. His vision was shrouded in black and blurred images showed through. How did this happen? How did he get there, wherever he was? He remembered that he was in the forest and... His headache blurred his vision of previous events. And the pain in his chest was becoming more and more unbearable. He felt like he was about to vomit his lungs and his entire arteriovenous system at once.

A sigh.

The borrower heard a sigh that sounded awfully familiar. Just like his - former - friend Lucas. Lucas. OH FUCK. Jake suddenly remembered what happened in the forest. He remembered meeting Lucas there. He remembered how Lucas had gone crazy, what he had said about "coming home", how he had shouted at him, how he had invaded his personal space, how he had grabbed him and... That was why Jake's chest was hurting so badly right now. Lucas squeezed him in his hands. He wanted to kill him. Lucas wanted to kill Jake. He turned into a monster. Jake had to get out of there, Lucas was near, he was going to kill him-

"Oh Jake, you're awake" Lucas' voice rang in the borrower's ears. It wasn't hard to hear the human's colossal footsteps. His voice was cold, showed no emotion, was different than usual. Jake tried to open his eyes, but his eyesight was still in poor condition. He could see only hazy shadows in front of him. Despite this, he rose to a standing position but quickly fell back down. He saw blurry shadows and colors moving in front of him - he knew it was Lucas. Jake's mouth filled with blood again and his vision slowly began to clear. He vomited in front of himself and it was almost all red, from what he could see, all blood.

“Oh, Jake… You look so pitiful when you're throwing up blood. I almost feel sorry for you" Lucas's voice mimicked to be concerned at first, but the sentence ended with a cold laugh. "I waited a long time before you woke up. A very long time. I thought you were dying or something. You scared me."

The borrower's vision finally cleared and what he saw made him wish he would still not be able to see. Or maybe even wish that he would have died in this forest.

Cage. He was in a cage.

Jake was in a small cage on Lucas' desk in his room. The cage was metal and impossible to open from the inside, let alone by someone as small as him. How was this possible? Did Lucas put him in a cage? Has he lost all his mind? The boy's body began to tremble more intensely, the vomiting reflex returned, and tears came to his eyes. He was terrified, devastated and furious. But mostly terrified. He wanted to look at Lucas, see what happened, believe it wasn't him at all, but he couldn't. He knew it was Lucas, but he wanted to hold on to a slender hope, he wanted to delude himself that it wasn't true.

"You know... I would feel stupid, even a little sad, if I killed you in that forest" the human voice sounded rough, but on some level also mocking and satirical "If you died there, you wouldn't see what I have prepared for you."

Jake lifted his head slightly and blood continued to drip from his mouth down his chin to the cages floor. His fear began to turn into anger, moreover rage. What right did someone who promised him support, care and safety in every situation have to now behave so recklessly? So terribly? So psychopathic? God only knew what possessed him, but whatever it was, it came from the deepest pits of hell.

"You have prepared something for me? Wow. First a broken rib and a kidnapping, and now another surprise? What a happy day for gifts from such monster." Jake's angry gaze finally reached the human, but he didn't seem bothered it. Besides, the words the borrower spoke didn't sound half as harsh as they were supposed to, because they were spoken by a creature the size of a mouse, locked in a cage, unable to stand on its own feet and spitting blood. Jake was pathetic at best.

"Are you that impatient to know what I'm going to do with you?" Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"It'd be nice to know what you're planning."

"Too bad. I haven't made a final decision yet. Fortunately, you're awake now and giving me more and more great ideas."

"What, are you going to lock me in this cage for the rest of my life and turn me into your little pet?" Jake spat blood "Or are you going to have bipolar disorder again and apologize and say you care about me?"

"You have very optimistic visions" Lucas smiled terrifyingly with teeth "Did you believe that I was really nice? Ha, you are even stupider than I thought. It was a farce, pretending so i could get you. Now you have no chance against me, I can take revenge for how you lied to me and left me. I can show you what the human you wanted so badly to pretend can do to a nothing like you."

Jake's eyes were filled with tears again, but he tried to suppress them.

"So that's how it must be. You were supposed to be a friend, but you turned out to be a monster. A wolf in sheep's clothing".

"You were supposed to be a friend, a human, but you turned out to be an edible animal. Who is really a wolf in sheep’s clothing here?" Lucas' words made Jake unable to hold back his tears anymore and he started shaking harder. The emphasis on the word 'edible' was obvious, and Jake knew it was a warning, maybe even a threat.

"Don't start this whole game of crying and begging for mercy. We both know you're below me in the food chain. You wanted to play "human", so now please, bear the consequences like a human. Maybe you want to fight? Settle it like men, like humans? But I can't promise that I won't crush you into flat with one move." Lucas spoke with a cold smile etched on his large face, looking at the tearful, shaking, terrified Jake with his ice-cold gaze.

Jake looked away from the giant, so as not to show how pathetically terrified he was of what was happening. His voice was shaking too much to speak and his body was hurting too much for him to think about how to get out of this hellish situation. For a moment he even wondered whether such a death would not be the best - quick, very painful, but quick. It was definitely better than what was supposed to happen.

"I even feel a kinda sorry for you" Lucas admitted "Nature hasn't equipped your species with a brain and survival instinct good enough to see through manipulation. But I must admit, you impressed me. When you pretended to be human, I was fooled. Too bad you didn't know back then how it would have ended for you, little creature."

Jake's heart began to beat much faster, his thoughts overwhelmed him, blood rushed to his mouth again, his entire body trembled with fear, and tears flowed mercilessly. The anger died in him. Every emotion but one died in him. He was completely consumed with fear.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Enough of this talk, it's boring".

The man opened the cage door and before Jake knew it, his hand reached out to grab him. The borrower backed out at the last minute. However, it did not help him much, because despite his great effort to avoid the hand of his former friend aka the monster in front of him, he failed to repeat it and saved his life only for a few more seconds. The hellish pain in his chest cut off his ability to escape, and Lucas grabbed him the second time and took him out of the cage without much effort. Jake struggled, trying to get out of the grip he was in. His heart was beating much too fast and too loud. His breathing was restricted. The pressure on his already damaged chest was piercing him completely and crushing him from the inside. He didn't want to die just yet.

However, the threat of death was not the worst. Jake always believed there had to be something after death, so maybe it wasn't the worst. And even if there was nothing there, it would mean that death would end his suffering and that was comforting in a way. What was much worse was that Lucas could have had every terrible way in the world to kill him. But even that wasn't the worst, no.

The worst thing would be that even though Lucas would kill him, he would still love him. He would still be his brother. In his heart, Lucas would still be the most important person to him.

"Remember when we talked about borrowers?" Lucas smirked and brought the hand that Jake was in closer to himself. Jake gulped.

"Remember how I talked about meals made of borrowers?" his devilish smirk grew "Remember how I said I would eat one while it was still alive? How I would swallow it while it was still alive just to feel it dying in my stomach?".

"I'm b-begging y-you Lucas" Jake sobbed between heavy breaths and tears "Spare m-me".

"Nah, i don't think i will, lil' creature" the human smiled with his sharp teeth, looking down at the scared being in his hands.

Before Jake knew it, the hand he was in moved closer to Lucas' mouth. The human licked his lips.

"Any last words, lil' creature?" Lucas laughed.

Jake began to fall into the large monster's mouth. In the last seconds before colliding with the giant fangs of death, he shouted: "Lucas, please don't! Please Lucas!"

"HEY"

Jake looked around himself. He was sitting on Lucas' bed, the boy was sitting next to him, they were both human sized, and Lucas looked terrified.

"W-what's g-going on h-here?!" Jake shouted in horror, looking around and then directly at the human.

"Calm down, dude, you were only daydreaming for a moment and you scared me" said the boy, showing his friend to breathe.

"W-what..?"

"Well, we were playing video games and you won, remember? Then you suggested we have a conversation, you wanted to talk about something. I was waiting for you to say what it was all about, but you started daydreaming, sat quietly and thought about something and didn't react to me at all for a good 15 minutes, until tears just started falling down your cheeks. That's why I raised my voice, I'm sorry, but you scared me" Lucas tried to explain the situation.

Jake's eyes widened and he rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tears "Sorry, I was a little lost in thought, I didn't want to scare you Lucas, you're my best friend."

Lucas smiled widely, "You're my best best friend too."

"So what did you want to talk about Jake?"

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

Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed their story. Sorry for not posting for a long time, I hope new posts will make up for it❤️

[coffeesleep-ooc]

I wish we had more than that one extra that talked about LBH’s experience with SQQ growing up. Like I understand why more of the book doesn’t reference the more casual end of white lotus era…but…I would’ve loved to see it refrenced more…actually nvm I think I would’ve gotten creeped out if done the way I’ve seen some people write it

Omg, thanks for sharing your thoughts 👀👀👀

I thirst everyday for what could have been 😔🙏

Honestly though, one of the few things that disappointed me in sv was the lack of disciple days shenanigans! It would have made the story x3 longer and it’s true that the contrast of a happy white lotus LBH and the consequent betrayal and miscommunications would have taken a hit but!!!! -insert whining dog noises-

i need it!!!

actually i thought that even that kind of content could have been played of as nostalgic and even heartbreaking in the right way, especially if it’s LBH reminiscing, but I also doubt he would avoid those kinds of thoughts a little bit bc he doesn’t want to question SQQ and his love ig? Maybe he is scared that if LBH demands answers SQQ will suddenly decide he doesn’t love him anymore and leave…LBH couldn’t take that

idk, that is my theory but i agree it would have been nice to have more of that content? Maybe crammed in before the IAC? But again, that would have made the novel longer -sighs-

Idk why you would have been creeped out? So im wondering! I mean…i’ve read a lot of fics including smol bunhe, from the horny simping LBH ones, passing through the ambiguous pining-LBH nothing is wrong here-SY and even the platonic end where LBH does have feelings but SY is snagged by someone else (imnot crying you are crying) and i believe that all takes are interesting even if a couple ones are a bit questionable…fiction wise

i do think that LBH growing up would slowly go from ‘Shizun is my god and my role model’ to ‘Shizun is my most silly man who i want to wife up and squeeze as soon as possible but he is still so good and peerless and im a bit potato but if he thinks me pleasing to look at I’ll maybe have a chance if I’m super explicit with my intentions…maybe’. And i think that process has a lot of potential??? Bc like, he puts SQQ in a literal pedestal at first but I imagine that living with the man makes LBH realize that SQQ is a human being with likes and dislikes, with a thin face and silly behavior underneath, who shows LBH more kindness and humanity than anyone else, and this is interesting bc other ppl did it before and after him, but LBH is stuck on him??? Also, we see sv from SY!SQQ’s pov, but again, LBH has suffered and known some of the darkness of the world before meeting SY, i believe his method of protecting himself is either to act cute and be super nice, even manipulative about it, while SJ’s was to be a prickly man with the ‘i hurt them first so they can’t hurt me later’ method, and this is why they are conflictive, different protection methods and different levels of blackening. When LBH realizes there’s nothing for him to cling to in a place, he will go silent like a shadow and endure until he can do something about it, if there’s something about SJ and LBH is about their parallels being breathtaking in the ‘im trying not to cry’ way and both endure and endure beyond their breaking point until something happens. SY transmigrated just in time to show LBH that the place he lived in still had some salvation, that the person that hated him and punished him still was capable of humanity!!! We don’t know what LBH thinks of SQQ changing like that, if he believes SQQ lost his memories or smth, but what he concerns himself with is basking in the light he thought was lost, and this makes him a naive character…he hasn’t lost his experience, he knows still what is to be scorned, alone in the world, treated like a street rat, but hopes that his current situation stays like this forever (except he starts getting greedier for SQQ’s love and affection in other ways)

i digress, LBH starts falling for SQQ bc the man shows him humanity underneath the kindness, later on he will be Shizun’s favorite (the dream for him, truly) but first SQQ shows him that he can make mistakes (skinner incident) and that he can be incredibly stupidly selfless (without a cure poisoning) and finally that he is a silly man, with a kind soul and with a lot of dignity and self-assurance despite his obliviousness of lots of things

On that note…idk why i’ve seen a lot of ppl saying that LBH would have fallen for the first person that showed him kindness? Like yes usually kindness is the base for love and interest, but as i see it, LBH didn’t fall for SQQ right away but gradually, not even knowing it himself until it was a tender devotion he couldn’t even try to suppress. LBH didn’t fall for NYY in sv? And she was kind to him, not helpful at all, but kind and human and flawed, but SQQ was such a bright light, such an imposing and beautiful being to him that he couldn’t feel anything for anyone else! Novel-canon LBH is just too obsessed with Shizun, and even PIDW LBG wanted to take him back with him, i mean…

And even if he did fall for someone kind and human like SY, that’s how life works, and i think that if a character deviates from his original narrative and manages to stay in character then it means it’s well built!

LBH is a very good character in my opinion and BingQiu is a very interesting dynamic full with nuances and hysterics (hehe), i do love reading about white lotus bunhe and i could only imagine what SQQ felt like when he thought that the person LBH was before the conference was dead TAT

and this is getting long hahaha sorry, hope some of my rambling is pleasing and answers your comment at least a bit! Thanks for asking(commenting? Talking to me?) <3

[ccraccz]

How about a request where the reader is a security guard at the movie setting where the boys were filming and instead of arresting the boys for trespassing they decide ro help them with shooting and offering the boys props.

BREAK IN RECORD

Characters: Hearsteel boys x GN!Reader

Implied male reader (reader can be seen as fit and not very bulky. They are taller than ezreal but shorter than k'sante and Sett. It says cleavage once, mostly because i have a slight obsession with man boobs, sorry not sorry) the characters are color coded, Alune is bold white (Looks like this)

You had been standing around, walking back and forth, sitting, crouching, counting tiles, all the sorts to keep you entertained in this job. Your partner had gone to the bathroom an hour ago, and you've begun thinking that he'd sunk into the toilet, but he's probably either sleeping or he ditched you.

So, in uncomfortable shoes and the mandatory clothing you're made to wear, you fiddle around with whatever you can that is not your phone or watch. Your phone, sadly, had died, and your watch kept the time for your sanity, so if you started to tweet with it, you wouldn't be able to keep track of time and that'd be horrible for you.

Though, your thought process was placed on pause when you heard some masculine voices and the padding of a pup walking around.

"This is a bad idea."

"Yeah, but it's gonna be great for this music video! We just have to check if there's any security around"

"I'd think it would be best to ask if we can use this place for recording.."

"But that's not funnnnn"

"It's logical so we don't get charged for breaking into a place we shouldn't be in!"

They sounded quite far away from you

'This would be fun,' you thought, thinking of ideas to entertain yourself in this boring setting.

You could totally scare them while they're recording or something. While thinking, you forgot that you were out in the open, though still in the dark.

Their dog, a cute Rottweiler, waltzed right up and leaned on your legs, getting his short fur drilled into the fibers of your uniform pants, not that you cared. You looked up from the dog to see a green haired boy, looking around as if lost.

"Ernest?! Ernest, where are you? We need you for this scene!"

He wasn't lost then. He just wanted to look for the dog.

Sadly, even though you wanted to have some fun and joke around with them, you couldn't. First, you didn't want to stress out the pup in your arms, and second, you were extremely tired.

You sighed and crouched down to the level of the dog, petting him before slotting one of your arms under his chest and the other around his hips before lifting him. You had expected him to wiggle around on your arms, but he surprisingly didn't, Ernest seemed to be very tame, or well trained, you guessed.

You walked out of the shadows, dog in arms, and walked towards the male from behind. You were quite a bit taller than him, his head most likely being around your shoulder or cleaveage.

"You looking for this pup?"

You asked, knowing that he forsure was looking for the dog in your arms. You just didn't know how you could approach him other than asking him something like that. Why did you ask that again?

The green haired boy jumped up higher than a cartoon cat and let out this ear piercing screech that your work partner most likely heard (from wherever he is). He teleported three times, once farther away from you, once behind you, and once in front of you with a shy smile.

You noticed that he really had one of the cutest smiles and wait. He can teleport?

You blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"You can teleport??" "WHERE THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM???"

"I asked you a question first?!"

"You're the one who scared me!!!"

"OH my fuckin- whatever. Not the weirdest thing I've seen. Anyways, are you looking for this dog?"

He looked at your arms, the dog he'd been srarching for was litterally asleep and just dangling from your strong arms. He blinked and chuckled before nodding.

"Ezreal!"

A rainbow of voices (see what I did there?) echoed down the hall with a few loud and quick thuds from behind you, making you turn around and the dog to wake up.

Placing down the pup, you grimaced at the need to explain to the group of men and lady because she's also running with them. This made you nervous.

This is not one of the reasons you wanted this job. Whatever.

---------------------timeskip---------------------

"We deeply apologize for breaking in and disturbing you,"

"We're really sorry, we will leave in a few, we just need to put the things we used to record away."

"There's no need to apologize. You guys didn't seem to know, and it's all completely understandable. Since you guys are done with recording, and I'm just about to leave to go home, I'll help out in picking things up!"

While speaking to the two, who introduced themselves as Yone and Alune, you watched as the boys played around with Ernest or sat around watching (Aphelios, Alune told you when she saw you looking at him. You really were just entraced by his hair color). They seemed like sibling to each other.

"There's no need to do that. We're the ones intruding in the space we're we shouldn't be"

"Nah, it's fine. I'm probably going to quit this job either way. My co-worker ditched me, and I don't get paid enough. Not only that, the boss is just rude in general."

"Whatever you say, but we wouldn't want to bother you with such.."

"Like I said, it's fine! Also, I would rather do something like this than walk around for 7 hours."

Walking away, Yone following you, and Alune telling the boys to start getting ready to move to the next location that Sett had planned out for all of them.

You helped Yone carry some of the heavy stuff before K'sante, with a gentle and kind smile, took it from both of your hands, like the strong man he is. Yone, kindly asked you if you would carefully carry some of the recording equipment and mics, and with a soft smile, you took some of the equipment and followed behind Aphelios outside the building where he shows you were their truck is.

They were parked behind your, now totaled, car. You were shocked and almost dropped the easily breakable equipment in your hands because of the sight.

Aphelios was no different. When he heard you gasp, he turned towards you and turned to see what you were looking at. From your eyes and body language, he could tell that the car that was in front of theirs was yours.

He grabbed the objects from your hands and placed them on the floor near the car before standing in disbelief. When they got here, Sett had parked well enough, that car was not fucked up when they arrived.

Just what happened?

Ezreal, Sett, and Alune were close behind, and they saw you both just standing there. Curious, they looked at each other before walking over to ask. Their reactions were exactly the same. They froze in place.

They knew who did it though.

Kayn and K'sante were next, but they didn't react as bad as the group did. Yone exited right after him, empty-handed and ready to go, but he really didn't expect to see the whole group looking as if they were ghosts.

That is before he saw the cause of such reactions.

"...KAYN!!"

That rage filled call-out shock all of you out of your stupor and made Aphelios crouch down, pick up the cameras and mics from the ground, and run towards their truck. Everyone, minus Alune, else did the same, minus Kayn and yourself.

After the long, loud, and embarrassing scolding that Kayn got from Yone, he was sent to the back of their truck, where he would hold the objects.

Yone apologized again and again and again, asking you how much you'd like to repay or buy a new car. Anything.

But you weren't as mad as you thought you'd be. Maybe it was because you were still on shock, or it was because you were bored of the car, or maybe it needed repairing. You don't know, but you just shrugged his offers off.

"Please, we have to repay this mess one way or another? How can we help? Don't you need a ride back home? I bet you're tired from work. Are you sure?"

"Actually.... Yone..."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to work with you guys"

That took Yone off guard. You must have gone insane! Your car, right in front of you, is completely destroyed, and here you're asking to work with them? After one person of their group literally just killed your source of transportation???

"You... want to work with us?? Like a dancer or singer? Or like an assistant manager??"

"I wouldn't mind either or actually. Though I would think being an assistant manager would be best"

Yone shakes his head in disbelief. You've truly gone insane. He sighs before reaching out his hand forwards, you instantly taking it in yours and shaking it.

"Welcome to Heartsteel [Name], we'll talk more about joining tomorrow"

"Also, Yone, I'll take you up on that ride"

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

Note!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY LORD THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE LMAO!!!

So so sorry it took so long! School just started again so I have to get used to the rhythm of school days again.

I decided to write this in a different format because I wanted to try something new. Not only that, I tried to add a bit of everyone, but I really wasn't able to 😰😰.

Either way!!! I truly hope you enjoy this little goofy thing. Thank you so much for requesting lovely anon!! 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

[oshiawaseni]

My sibling, who is an anime only said they would not be surprised if BKDK became canon considering the depth of their relationship, their interactions, and their character development regarding each other ... despite how Bones added in Izuocha scenes and cut out some critical BKDK moments in most of the seasons so far... And, seeing how one-sided the "love" is between Izuocha, which I believe is deep admiration as of reading the manga- I have to say I agree.

Izuocha, is fine on the surface but is unhealthy. Izuku would not pay attention to Ochaco they he would need to if they were in a relationship. And Ochaco only saw "Hero Deku" rather than all of "Izuku", which would cause her to unknowingly encourage Izuku's reckless self-sacrificial behavior.

BKDK is different because not only they know each other beyond the surface level, but they also have their sights on each other and the mere presence of their partner inspires them to become better and stronger people at heart because they have genuine love for each other...

I honestly do not understand what is in the Dudebros' mind other the fact that they are lacking emotional intelligence and critical thinking... but I will just enjoy what they are missing. (Sorry for rambling...)

Hi anon! Sorry it took me a bit to get back to you (reason in tags). Let me just reply to your ramblings with some ramblings of my own :)

I actually really enjoyed Season 6. The only thing I faulted Bones for, was creating that jarring opening that made out like Ochaco was the hero of the retrieve vigilante Deku mission (which sadly only fueled izuochas more on mhatwt), when it was 1000% Katsuki's doing and there is one panel which proves this beyond a shadow of a doubt.

See this? Who is the one standing in front of Shoto and Tokoyami, addressing the whole class? It's Katsuki! Not Ochaco! She was seated with everyone else. This is why it's so frustrating when they say she was the reason Izuku was brought back to U.A. That arc was all about Katsuki's feelings for Izuku and wanting to return his smile.

He was even so worried he lost sleep over it, wondering where Izuku was, if he was okay… he must have stayed awake in bed, thinking and thinking about Izuku and how he could get him back. Katsuki was used to Izuku being by his side, and it was the first time Izuku had willingly left it. It provided him clarity about how important* Izuku was in his life, which only made him worry even more. (*see also: crucial, vital, imperative, watch me emotionally die slowly inside if you aren't around me anymore.)

Katsuki losing sleep, at a time Izuku was not sleeping was such a symbiotic soul mates power move Hori added in for flavour. I love it SOOO freaking much. There are no lengths this man won't go, to prove how in sync they are with each other, how much they need each other, the empathy they share with each other, even on a completely spiritual level where they share in each other's sufferings, *without even knowing it* such as right here, just like Katsuki wants to share all of Izuku's burdens so that he's not crushed by them.

But with that said, though Bones really dropped the ball on the opening (and 5 previous seasons...*ahem*), there were a lot of curious changes that happened in season 6 that I did love, like Izuku dropping the "tachi" in his sentence which turned his line into "He hurt the person I love…" (instead of people)

and as we saw more of these additional changes Bones made, it got us wondering, did Hori have some regrets with the manga that he was unhappy about and wanted their romance to be more obvious? Was it only natural to get anime viewers up to speed before season 7, because they were going to find out through manga spoilers that Katsuki and Izuku are actually in love? I'd like to think so.

Changes I remember off the top of my head:

Reaching out for little Izuku's hand during Katsuki Bakugou Rising

Katsuki waking up and thinking "Deku…" and remembering his Rising sacrifice and being still hurt from it.

Izuku waiting until he was in Katsuki's arms before he apologised, which made their words of "I'm sorry" and "I know" more intimate and personal to each other. Like Izuku needed Katsuki's forgiveness the most, and Katsuki needed to let Izuku feel that he understands him the most.

Izuku's little "Ka-..." (the English dub did not catch it but I know other dubs did) as he was passing out, which made the entire hug scene feel so much more romantic.

"I'm gonna say your name when I wake up" vs "I'm gonna say your name when I fall asleep." BkDk: Always on each other's minds. All the time.

And one of the most interesting changes of all…

So get this, Ochaco gets a hand hold grab in the opening which canon-wise holds about as much weight as an "illustration" … and in the actual anime content, she grabs his wrist area instead of his hand like in the manga. Making her hand hold IN THE CANON CONTENT so impersonal. Almost as if to make up for the horrible opening they made. Why this was done still remains a mystery to us today… but I hope it's because Horikoshi asked them to make Izuocha stop being seen like a couple, and more like the friends they are.

And then, about the "brothers" "friends" comments antis love to make about bkdk. Well yeah, they're coping. In fact, Hori has shied away from labeling them friends several times when he could have! "Midoriya-kun is our friend" says Iida - with multiple people from the class, including Ochaco, presented in the panel… and Katsuki is nowhere to be found.

Or like when sAFO called Katsuki "Izuku's closest person" (motto mo naka ga ii) where it would have been WAY more natural to call him "shinyu," aka, "best friend." But that's the thing, Hori runs away from calling them friends like it's the plague LMAO

Really makes you wonder… was sAFO (I'd rather just call it AFO at this point because it's his personality being dominant vs Katsuki) alluding to hidden romantic feelings Izuku hides for Katsuki that his secret gaydar quirk picked up? Could be. In a way, at the time it happened, it felt to me like Horikoshi himself was talking to us through him, telling us very explicitly, "You're damn right. They're gay."

Either way, skirting around this label for them is being done on purpose by Hori. Like his hidden way of saying "Yeah they might be acting a bit more like the best friends they were always meant to be as kids, but their feelings for each other are not 'friendly' AT ALL. Because platonic friendship is not where these two are headed." And there are STILL hidden feelings they haven't managed to say to each other yet! The content Horikoshi has been itching to draw for YEARS that he is finally getting to. All that soft bkdk romance we've been waiting for is coming SO SOON!!! and I am HERE for it anon! 🔥

2023 will forever be known as the year of BkDk canon... these are very exciting times. <3

[colormepurplex2]

On Wings of Mist & Memories | Oath Breaker

↳  DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!f.Reader ⤜ Enemies to Lovers, Exiled Royalty, High Fantasy ⤜ Rating: MA | angst ⤜ WC: 11,632 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of war, blood, mild violence, flashback minor character death, mild sexual tension, suggestive inner thoughts

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Glossary Mave - dragon rider who can wield magic, tethered to the soul of their dragon when they bond (death for both if one dies) Psion - infinite memory/recall Reaver - a dragon that can wield magic, tethered to the soul of the rider they bond (death for both if one dies) Noks - infantry soldiers, humanoids who can enter berserk/rage mode Rider - regular dragon rider, no magic, uses bows or scouts Brute - riderless dragon, usually wild and very dangerous Wielder - magic user, no dragon needed Signis - the designated/specific type of power someone wields Helnite - metal ore that can cut off magic from its user

It’s not cold in the Andos Forest like in the mountains. In fact, it’s the opposite with sweltering heat and thick humidity. It reminds you of growing up in the farming villages near the Southern Garrison. Stretches of open farmland, open to the blaze of the sun and humidity coming off the ocean to the south. You haven’t missed the constant stickiness coating your skin or how breathing became harder as the sun peaked in the sky.

The constant trickle of sweat down your body and the cottony feeling in your mouth makes it hard to sleep. Your clothes are fur-lined and thick, even your boots, which are making your feet ache from how warm they are. You’d give anything for a drink of water or for Shadowsword to come back and finish shredding your clothing—the heat is clearly making you delirious.

“Goris, you awake?” you ask, trying to blink the sweat from your eyes.

You haven’t heard anything from him ever since Shadowsword left, and that was hours ago, you’re sure. The tent fell into silence, you and Goris both closing in on yourselves. Whether lost in thought—you—or trying to compartmentalize the whole-body ache from getting tortured—Goris—there wasn’t much to be said then.

But, now, after trying and failing to get some sleep, you want to use what little time you have left before Shadowsword returns—there’s no telling how long that’ll be, could be hours more, could also be just a few minutes—to your advantage. It’s hard to gauge the passage of time or where the sun and moon are without being able to see the sky. The canvas of the tent is thick, and the overhead mage lights neither dimmed nor brightened with indication.

You watch as Goris’ chest rises and falls with a deep breath before a sigh whistles between his swollen, blood-crusted lips. “Hard to sleep with the pounding in my head. Quite certain that asshole concussed me.”

“Thank you…for what you did. For trying to keep him away from me.”

He grunts. “You stopped him from pounding my face further.” His jaw pops as he works it like he’s trying to ease the tension from the swelling. “It was the least I could do.”

Silence fills the space again, making you feel awkward as you form your next sentence. “How do you know him?” There is no need to specify who the ‘him’ is. With the way Goris shifts uncomfortably under his shadow bonds, you can tell he was expecting you to question him about it eventually.

You’re not sure he will answer you with the pregnant pause he allows to settle between you. The swelling in his face is getting worse, his left eye is completely swollen shut, and there is a weird bend in his nose that wasn’t there before. You watch as he continues to shift, flexing his fingers where they rest on his thighs and rotating his ankles, the heel of his boot drawing ruts in the dirt. 

Goris has always been kind to you, if a bit standoffish in a broody sort of way. You’re sure he fancied General Marvick on a deeper level than just as his commanding officer. He’s not an unattractive man. His auburn hair is braided tight to his skull and dangles down his back. His eyes have an amber hue, not quite brown but not orange either. You think, in another life, one without wars and violence, he and Marvick would have made a great couple.

Thoughts of Poli have you pressing your lips into a thin line. Now isn’t the time to linger on thoughts of the dead. You need answers, information, something you can store in your arsenal for later use. The more you know about Shadowsword—the exiled fucking Prince of the Golden Kingdom of Bolas—the more chance you have of getting out of here alive and with at least some of your dignity intact.

“I taught him how to wield a blade,” Goris finally says, his voice low but carrying to you in the quiet of the tent. “When he was just a boy, I was the weapons master at the palace. I was there the day his Signis manifested, and the day he bonded with his dragon. I’ve known him for a long, long time.”

That explains the familiarity Shadowsword showed Goris. It’s clear they had a bond. You don’t work so close with someone for an extended period and not grow close to them. Your heart threatens to squeeze tight as you think about your own time spent so close to someone—you shove that feeling away again before it can take hold.

“How do we get out of here?”

Goris grunts a laugh that turns into a pain-filled cough. His breaths wheeze as his coughing tapers off. “I don’t think there is any getting out. Not for me, at least.” The words are spoken solemnly. “Look at me,” he commands, embodying the commander that he is. “No matter what he does, you remember your training. You may not have learned swords and shields, girl, but you can fight just as well without them. Use your words, mind, and body if you have to…you’ve been trained for this. Don’t let him win.”

The one amber-hued eye you can see glints in the mage lights as he stares you down until you give one quick downward jerk of your chin. May the wings of death be swift if ever I let loose my tongue. You repeat the Psion mantra that was hammered into you from day one of your training. Goris is correct. You may not know how to swing a sword, but you know the mind is a far sharper weapon anyway.

You have little time to think about that or ask Goris for more information. A gruff voice draws your attention to the tent's flap momentarily before it’s drawn aside, and Shadowsword steps in. It’s a bit surprising to see him not wearing his armor. You were sure the gold and iron were what made him seem larger than life, but you now realize he’s just as intimidating without it.

Black hair, wet from sweat or a bath, covers his forehead and curls around his ears. It’s not slicked back like yesterday when he took his helmet off. Maybe it was the shock, but you don’t remember seeing the small metal jewelry adorning his mouth or the whole sleeve of ink covering his right arm. He looks like an entirely different—but no less dangerous—person.

He’s wearing a light linen top with the sleeves ripped off and the ties at the neck undone enough that you can clearly see the shadowy depth between the muscles of his pecs. As he moves into the small space, the shirt breezes open enough that you catch a glimpse of black curling from his left peck to over his shoulder. But, the fabric bunches and moves as he crosses his arms over his chest, obscuring it before you can decipher what it is.

“Good morning, friends.” The cheerfulness in his voice doesn’t fit the way he’s standing there, feet shoulder-width apart, arms banded over his chest, hips slightly tilted forward. His stance screams predator, while his tone offers up what you know is undoubtedly a false sense of security. You can already tell it will be tricky to navigate around this man. He’s cunning, dangerous, and completely removed from what you’re used to—that much is clear.

“You don’t get to call me friend, Jeon, not after everything you’ve done,” Goris harumphs.

Shadowsword swings around to face him. You can’t see his expression, but the confusion on Goris’ face makes you curious. “Have you ever thought to stop and ask any questions, Rit? Or are you just mindlessly following and believing anything and everything that comes out of my father’s mouth? You know, I always thought you were the smart one, someone that might at least be curious enough to do his due diligence regarding people he cares about. But, maybe you never did care as much as it seems.” Those thick, broad shoulders push up in a shrug before he reaches back and pulls two shiny, metal, circular collars from where they were tucked against the small of his back, hooked into a holster you hadn’t noticed before.

“I-is that…are those Helnite collars?” Goris chokes out the question, his confusion replaced with wild panic.

“Just a precaution, Rit. You understand, don’t you?”

Before Goris can respond, Shadowsword crouches before him and swiftly clamps one of the collars around his neck. The sound he makes can only be described as a wail of mourning. He thrashes so violently against the tent pole that the whole structure sways as he continues to bellow and curse.

“Did he say Helnite?” you whisper. Despite how loud Goris is, Shadowsword still seems to hear you. He pivots where he’s crouched before Goris. Those dark, calculating eyes appraise you. A new wave of sweat breaks out across your brow and down your neck, competing with the chills working their way down your body as that look alone confirms your fear.

Helnite is the only thing in all of Filasdurn that can cut off a magic user from their power. The glittery silver ore is mined in Lork, the land where dragons supposedly originate from. No one knows more than that, as travel to and from Lork is forbidden, thanks to a centuries-old peace treaty between them and The Golden Kingdom of Bolas.

When Helnite is smelted down, it can be forged into weapons or imprisonment implements. When formed into a completed circle, it acts as an instant castration of any and all power. The use of it on innocent humans has been outlawed for decades. It’s been limited to being only used on criminals or Brutes in the wild that need to be caught for gentling so they can bond.

You’ve never been subjected to Helnite, with it being outlawed and you not being a criminal and all that, but you’ve seen the effects of it. It’s different for each magic wielder. The magic between a Mave and their Reaver is soul-deep—which is why when one dies, the other does, too. Right now, with that collar around his neck, Goris has been completely cut off from Ripley. It’s been explained to you that it feels like a piece of your soul is literally missing, the pain immense and full of dark thoughts—death without dying. It can leave lasting, unseeable scars, even after it’s removed and the connection re-established.

As for other magic users, such as yourself, it’s said to feel like—the collar snaps into place, your mind instantly goes blank, and you cannot finish your internal thoughts. Your chest rises and falls in rapid succession, the air wheezing from your lungs. The metal burns where it touches your skin, setting an instant ringing in your ears. A thick, cottony feeling pulses through your head, like the beginnings of a migraine.

“You’re going to kill her!” Goris yells.

“Is it too much?” Shadowsword asks. His voice is soft, almost sounding like he really cares.

You blink to clear your vision, and he slowly comes into focus. There is concern on his face as he kneels on one knee beside you. He’s close enough that you can smell the soft, clean scent of soap coming off of him. If your arms weren’t bound to your sides by his shadows, you wouldn’t have to reach far to touch his face. The sudden urge to smooth your fingers over his furrowed brow has your fingers twitching.

“If I say ‘yes’,” you have to pause to think, “will you take it off?” Your voice warbles, and your tongue feels too thick. It’s weird to have to think of how to form words. The effects of the Helnite impact everything. For someone like you, that means all your cognitive functions as well. It’s a weird sensation, feeling like your thoughts must slide through thick mud before they can form.

“Helnite isn’t typically used on Psions,” he says as if you don’t already know that. Though, you’re not sure if you do? Everything feels so uncertain, like you know nothing about anything but also still know everything all at once. It’s disorienting. “I was told it should be okay. And it’ll only be until you agree to cooperate.”

Your lips twitch, and you open them to respond, just for them to slide closed again. You shake your head instead, trying to tell him that won’t ever happen. He’ll get no help from you.

“You’re going to kill her!” Goris says again, his voice cracking, hoarse from screaming.

“Ripley is fine! I’m not going to kill your Reaver. I wouldn’t do that.” Shadowsword glares over his shoulder at the still-struggling man.

“Not Ripley, you idiot. Her!” He jerks his head in your direction. “That’ll destroy her! Helnite shouldn’t be used on a Psion of her caliber! She’s as good as dead if you keep it on!” Goris yells, sucking in air between his raging words. He’s still thrashing, rattling the canvas all around. “She’ll become a shell of a human, suck the life right out of her! She needs her magic more than any of us!”

Shadowsword’s glare softens out to a slight frown. “There’s no real proof of that. The archives are just full of speculation.” The roar of a dragon rings through the air somewhere outside the tent, and Goris screams along with it. “Fucking hells,” Shadowsword curses, pushing to his feet and throwing back the tent's flap. “Get her back under the shield, now!”

“W-what?” you try to ask them what’s going on, but the question only comes out as a single word instead of a complete sentence.

Just as abruptly as it began, Goris’ and the dragon’s cries stop. Thick pants fill the air, Goris trying to heave in air. His face is a deep scarlet, nearly purple from how long he was screaming without breathing. “Fuck. You.” Tears cascade down his ruddy cheeks, and his mustache quivers as he chokes back sobs. “You’ll pay for this, Jeon.”

This is the second time Goris has used Shadowsword’s real name—his real surname, at least. It’s not lost on you. Or maybe it is. You’re still unsure if the information and realizations are filing away correctly in the thick fog filling your mental spaces. What was once an infinite space resembling a placid lake that you could quickly dip into for recall is now more of a boggy marsh that threatens to overwhelm and drag you down each time.

“You,” Shadowsword stabs a finger toward Goris, “shut up before I gag you. Someone will be in shortly with some food. Try not to be an asshole to them, or you’ll go without. We’re not done, you and I. There’s still a whole lot we need to talk about, Rit. But, it’ll have to wait.” He moves toward you. “Fuck!”

The shadows holding your arms and chest fade away, leaving you to list to the side heavily. You manage to catch yourself before you hit the dirt. “My…head,” you whisper, bringing your other hand up to clutch at your temple.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck!” He continues with a litany of curses as he stoops down and grips you around the waist before hauling you up and over his shoulder.

“Agh!” Your world spins, and your stomach threatens to heave up its nonexistent contents. “Please,” you slur, tongue feeling thicker than ever.

As Shadowsword pushes through the loose tent flap, you get your first lungful of fresh air since being brought here. The inside of the tent was far more stifling than you imagined. Though the air outside is still warm, the sweat covering your face and neck begins to wick away by the gentle breeze making the leaves on the surrounding branches of the trees whisper and dance.

“Park!” Shadowsword yells as he carts you off toward a line of what looks like work tents. All their sides are open, revealing various workstations. You spot a loom and a weaver cart before he spins on his heel, and your view blurs. “Park! Where the fuck is Park?”

“What is it?” snaps a delicate voice from back toward the work tents. “Stop screaming. I can hear you just fine. Gods know it’s not like I’m busy trying to fulfill the orders you already dropped on me this morning.” Whoever is speaking continues to grumble as they draw closer.

Shadowsword spins again, making you convulse on his shoulder with a dry gag. “Those Helnite collars I had you make. You said they can’t be taken off unless you do it. I need you to do it.”

“Well, that was quick. How did you manage to fuck that up?” they quip, but the tone is teasing more than anything.

“Shut up and go. Hurry!”

You try to steady your breathing, pulling in air through your nose and pushing it out between your dry lips. If he doesn’t put you down soon, you feel like you really will be sick.

The smells of hot metal and ash roll over you as Shadowsword steps into the shade of one of the tents. There isn’t much you can discern from your perch over his shoulder, and lifting your head to look around feels impossible.

“Lay her over here.”

As Shadowsword slides you off his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the man standing on the other side of the cleared work table you’re being lowered onto. He’s wearing a leather apron, similar to the ones you’ve seen smiths wear. The soot and ash smears on his hands and face lend to that even more. With his soft features, kind eyes, and brown hair kissed with golden highlights, you think he’s more beautiful than handsome. A startling contrast to the harshness of the forge glowing red behind him.

“You said the Helnite would work on the Psion,” Shadowsword growls at the other man, posturing aggressively with his hands braced on the table by your hip.

Those soft eyes take on a fierceness that fits more with a metal worker. “I said, in theory, it would work. And well, it clearly has worked.”

Shadowsword jerks up a finger, jabbing it at the man across the table. “It’s practically turned her into an invalid. You said it would only limit her ability to read magical signatures and retain new memories.”

“I also told you it would depend on her strength in ability. You refused to let me in the tent to see her runes, so it was all guesswork, you arrogant prick. You wouldn’t even tell me how big it was,” Park gestures animatedly at your chest, where your tunic has fallen open slightly to reveal the top half of your rune and your breasts, “it’s massive! Just because you feel possessive over—”

“Just shut up and take it off! Fucking hells, Jimin, you can berate me more once I know I haven’t ruined my chance at getting what I need.”

“You mean once you know that you haven’t ruined your new toy,” Park—Jimin—grumbles as he leans over the table, and his eyes, once again soft, meet yours. You blink lazily at him, trying and failing to filter through and latch onto their conversation. You know there are significant bits you should be retaining, but they’re like grains of sand slipping between your fingers.

Jimin slides a finger between your skin and the collar, working it around until he’s nodding and hurrying away from the table. The short moment his finger was between your neck and the band felt like a drink of cool water, the heat from the metal subsiding substantially.

“How long is it going to take?” Shadowsword questions.

The reply comes from a distance, accompanied by the sound of metal clinking together. “Not long. The Helnite can only be removed using a special cutter and must be imbued first. You’re lucky I have the right tools for this.” Coming closer, he says, “You should really get her some better clothes suited for the warmth here. The heat is making her even more muddled.”

“I’m such an idiot. I got one of the most valuable people in existence just to nearly kill her,” Shadowsword grunts under his breath, you barely catching the words. “Just get it done so I can,” he says louder for the other man to hear.

Jimin fingers the metal collar again, pulling it as far from your skin as he can to slip the curved edge of a pair of clippers under it. “The shock might make her pass out,” he mumbles, bracing himself against the table as he grips the long handles of the tool. 

The collar tugs on your skin as he applies force, the Helnite groaning under the pressure of the clipper. There is a distinct sound of metal screeching as it tears, and relief floods your system. Your senses buzz, the sensation growing until you feel like you’re on the verge of drowning.

The air in your lungs isn’t enough. Your back arches off the table. You try to cling to the tiny tendrils of reality surrounding you, but your consciousness is swept away in the rush, sucking you into a numb, static-filled state as your mind fights the sudden maelstrom of information.

🖤🖤🖤

Jungkook

“Gods, I really am an idiot,” Jungkook grumbles to himself for what feels like the thousandth time since he laid your unconscious form on the pile of blankets and furs he uses as a bed in his tent. He sits across from the bed in a low-slung camp chair, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

In all his years, he’s never nearly botched something so thoroughly. He knew the instant the Helnite clicked into place around your neck that he royally fucked up. The vibrant fire in your eyes that he had come to seek out anytime he was in your space instantly dimmed.

He could barely think over the panic that held his chest in an iron grip. It didn’t help that Rit wouldn’t shut up, confirming what he already knew—that the Helnite would ruin you if he didn’t do something about it quickly.

The fact he had disregarded Jimin’s insistence on seeing your runes to be sure the Helnite wouldn’t hurt you is something Jungkook hasn’t stopped kicking himself over. He might have avoided this whole fiasco if he had not been so obsessed with you and consumed with this ridiculous possessiveness.

None of this is going to plan at all. Trusting Ulgrin was his first mistake. He should have known there were things that Ulgrin was keeping from him. Most important among those is that Marvick was holding one of the, if not the most powerful, Psion in her employ. He would wager to guess that even his father is unaware of your potential; otherwise, you’d have been under his thumb instead.

Thinking of Marvick makes his stomach twist and knot. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He never wanted her to die, not by his sword, at least. Though, he’s not even sure she did die by his sword. The timing was too close between the moment Lowren crashed into the side of the mountain and his sword cleaving into her neck. Either blow could be attributed to her falling.

Neither was supposed to happen. According to Taehyung, Lowren caught a bad downward draft because of the storm kicking up outside, and after he broke away from engaging with Hoseok’s dragon, Rubel, his wing was clipped, and he went down hard. It’s never easy hearing or watching another Mave or Reaver take a fatal blow, knowing the bond will kill them both. It makes Jungkook realize just how precious that bond is and how easy it would be for someone to take him out simply by targeting his own dragon.

You’ve been out for hours now, and the fact that Jungkook doesn’t want to leave you in here unattended and doesn’t want anyone else to take over watching you means he’s shoved off most of his responsibilities onto Yoongi and Namjoon. They’re both in his inner circle. They know easily as much as he does about what must be done. If it weren’t for his friends, all six of them, he knows this camp wouldn’t function as smoothly as it does. For a rebel encampment, it resembles a well-oiled military station pretty well.

Jungkook’s attention jerks to you when you moan softly. He watches as your brow pinches and your lips turn down in a barely-there frown. It’s curiosity that has him pushing up from his camp chair and approaching the bed. Your eyes flicker behind your closed lids, frantic. It looks like you might be having a nightmare.

Sweat glistens on your brow, and he can see how it shines along your neck and the small part of your chest exposed from where he just had to cut the ties on your top. Jimin said you needed cooler clothes, the heat not helping what the Helnite did to you. He wonders if you might recover and wake up quicker if you cooled off.

Slowly, Jungkook settles onto the bed beside you. His knees press into the thick layers, shifting your hips slightly as his weight sinks in. With timid motions, he pinches the loose flap of your tunic and begins to pull it open slowly. Just as the more significant swath of your rune that spreads over the tops of your breasts comes into view, you jerk a hand up and slap his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you croak, scrambling away from him until you flip off the edge of the bed, your legs flying into the air. “AH!”

“Oh, shit! Are you okay?” Jungkook launches across the bed and tries to help you sit up, but you just scream and frantically start swatting and kicking at him. “Okay, okay! Stop! I’m just trying to help you!” One of your boots connects with his jaw, and he jerks back, his ears ringing and his vision blurring. “Fucking hells,” he groans.

“I’ll gut you!” you snarl, brandishing a very familiar knife. The small, leather-hilted dagger he usually keeps under his pillow waves in the air before him, clutched in your trembling hand.

It’s kind of cute the way you’re threatening him. He knows he could quickly disarm you with his shadows and a simple thought. But, erring on the side of caution, he doesn’t want to scare you any more than you already are. Holding his hands up and out to either side, he rocks back onto his heels and slowly sits on the ground a few feet from you.

“Sorry. That probably looked terrible, didn’t it? I wasn’t trying to…well, I was, but not like that. I was worried you were too warm, and it was affecting your ability to recover from the Helnite.”

Your other hand goes up and circles around the front of your throat. Relief sags your shoulders when you feel the collar is gone. The only thing that remains is a slightly raised line where your skin was mildly blistered from the short time the Helnite was on.

“Why did you take it off?” The suspicion is evident in your tone, accompanied by the narrowing of your eyes and the steadying of the blade in your hand.

His lips twitch. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I should have done more research, but I was blinded with desperation and—er, I’m just sorry, okay? I had it removed as quickly as I could because I realized I’d made a mistake.”

Disbelief clouds your eyes. He doesn’t blame you. He wouldn’t believe himself either. It sounds like a trick, a farce to get you to trust him when you have every reason not to.

“You killed General Marvick and Captain Krut. You’re a rebellious, murderous monster. It’d be reckless of me to believe anything you say.”

“Ulgrin Krut was a traitor, both to me and to the Crown.” Not like pointing that out is going to make it any better. “And Poli…it wasn’t supposed to be like that,” he sighs, repeating his earlier thoughts. “Something happened with Lowren and…” he trails off, his shoulders pushing up in a sad shrug. “I wish I could take it back.”

That seems to deflate you a bit. Your chest sinks as you blow out a breath. Jungkook watches as your tongue swipes over your cracked lips. “What do you plan to do with me? What about Colonel Goris?”

“Well,” he slowly lowers his hands to rest on his bent knees, “Rit will remain bound in Helnite for now. He’s too volatile for me to let him roam free without it, but I plan to move him to a place that’s closer to Ripley so they can at least see one another, and it’ll be less likely that she tries to escape again.”

“So, you really are as cruel as they say you are,” you state plainly. “Might as well kill him. It would be the greater mercy.” He knows it probably seems that way. But, with how this conversation is currently going, he’s hopeful you’ll hear out everything else he has to say…perhaps change your mind on how you see him. “And for me?”

“You’ll be free to roam the encampment, no Helnite. Though, you will be watched and warded closely. If you try to make it beyond the outlying sentries, they have been instructed to prevent you from leaving…at all costs.” That has your hackles rising again, so he quickly presses on. “I don’t want to treat you like a prisoner, but I have a pretty good idea of what’s churning inside that head of yours. You think you know who I am, what I’ve done, and how I’m just a power-hungry son blinded by his need to dominate. All I ask is you listen, hear what I have to say about the last ten years. Hells, use your ability on anything you need…even me—“ you gasp, and he assumes due to the fact you know that using your Psion ability on another living being is strictly forbidden and goes against all the oaths that you’ve ever taken “—if you have to so you know the truth.”

“I’m not an oath breaker like you,” you sneer before dropping your hand, the dagger still gripped tight but with the tip now resting on the ground. “If you think I’ll tell you all the military secrets and information I am privy to, you can think again. I’ll read whatever objects you want me to. I’ll even listen to whatever bullshit story you want to tell me. But I won’t betray Poli by giving you everything I know, no matter what you say or do to me.” The promise comes easy, but for some reason, it tastes bitter on your tongue.

🖤🖤🖤

The only reason you’re agreeing to even listen to him is because you can’t shake what Goris said to you earlier. Use your skills, whatever you must, to get free, even if that means offering him your ear while still plotting his demise. Who knows, maybe you can learn something valuable.

“Can I have my dagger back, now?” Shadowsword asks, one of his brows quirking.

“I think I’ll keep it,” you state, fitting it into the holster in the top of your boot. It’s a bit bigger than the dagger you usually keep there, but the hidden sheath holds it well enough.

Shadowsword nods toward a changing screen on the other side of the tent. “Would you like something lighter to wear? Perhaps something to eat and drink as well?”

 It’s on the tip of your tongue to refuse his hospitality, but with the subtle burning around your eyes from sweat and how your chest hollows each time you drag in a too-warm breath, you decide to bite back the tart reply instead. “That would be great, thank you.”

He moves slowly as if he’s scared of spooking you. You watch as he gains his feet, his linen shirt falling open even more than it did earlier in the tent with Goris. Instead of looking away, you focus intently on making out the splash of black on his chest. It’s definitely the silhouette of a dragon, its head almost centered on his chest, its body covering his entire pec and disappearing over his shoulder.

You’ve seen plenty of Mave’s Signis marks, but never one so big or dark. Most marks are a good indicator of someone’s ability, a reflection of their inner self and their bond to their Reaver. There are other peoples, like yourself, who have different kinds of markings that denote their specialties. The runes on your chest mark you as a Psion. Though every Psion has their own unique marking, it’s always in the same place and the same color. The bigger the mark, the more innate ability one is said to have.

Noks, the bulk of the military foot soldiers, also have their own indicators in the form of red lines slashed diagonally across their cheeks. It’s said the red signifies the blood of battle and helps them channel their rage. You’ve seen them in action, so focused that even grievous wounds won’t stop them. The only way to keep a Nok from gutting you is to gut them first, and even then, you probably need to take their head off as a secondary precaution.

You clasp the front of your tunic closed the best you can as you stand up, only wavering slightly as lightheadedness washes over you. It’s been far too long since you had something to drink, and the heat is nearly unbearable. You push yourself to focus on crossing the tent to the changing screen, one step closer to hopefully getting that drink he’s offered.

“There’s a change of clothes behind the screen, a blouse, and some breeches. It’s the best I could find in something size appropriate. We don’t have many females around here, and the ones we do have more often than not wear fighting leathers, so it was slim picking for non-battle gear.”

Stepping around behind the changing screen, you realize with the way the lights are positioned overhead if he stays there, then he’ll be able to see your shadow in full as you change. You chew your bottom lip, contemplating asking him to afford you some privacy, but as Goris reminded you earlier, the body is just as much a weapon as a blade.

A short table sits off to the side, a shallow basin of water and a cloth sit beside a pile of folded clothes. “Thank you again,” you offer, anxiously cutting your eyes toward the screen. You can’t see him through the panels, not even a flash of his shadow, but you can feel his eyes locked on your form as you slowly shrug out of your ruined tunic.

It feels good to have the thick wool top off. The air in the tent is mildly warm but nonetheless refreshing now that your skin has a chance to breathe. Glancing at the screen, you slip the dagger from your boot and tug them off. You can still feel those eyes on you. So, as much as you want to shuck your fur-lined pants quickly, you take your time sliding them over your hips and down your legs, arching your back, and creating the perfect silhouette.

Keeping your eyes trained on the central panel of the changing screen, you pick up the cloth and dig it into the cool water in the basin. Your eyes flutter shut, and you try to suppress a groan of relief as you press it to your neck and swipe away the accumulation of sweat and grime, but something between a moan and a sigh slips out. A smile pulls at your lips as you hear a throat clear on the other side of the screen—so, he’s listening just as much as he’s watching. It’s tempting to continue with the show to eke out as much advantage as you can, but the rumble of your stomach has you tossing aside the cloth in favor of grabbing the clothes.

The breeches on the table are thin dark blue cotton, molding to your legs and ass once they’re on. They’re infinitely cooler and tuck nicely into the tops of your boots. You replace the dagger and then pick up the blouse. It’s a mossy green color with a cinched, banded waist that gathers with corset-like ties down the front. You purse your lips, giving the blouse a once over before pulling it on and securing the ties. It’s far more flattering than you anticipated, accentuating all the right areas.

There is a small commotion on the other side of the changing screen; hushed words are exchanged, and the distinct clinking of dishes. You step close and peer around the edge of the paneling, catching a glimpse of a smiling man in a rose-colored apron tucking a hand towel over the top of the apron and pointing to something on the large platter sitting on the table opposite the bed. 

“I smoked the cheese just this morning, and those are fresh apples right off the trade cart. You let her eat before you touch anything,” the finger that was pointed at the table swings to wag in Shadowsword’s direction. “Just because she thinks you’re a beast doesn’t mean you have to try and prove her right. This could be our last chance at—oh, hi!”

You hadn’t realized you were leaning so far out beyond the edge of the screen. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, and you school your features before stepping out fully and giving the man a tight smile. “Hello.” 

“Out,” Shadowsword shoos the man toward the tent opening. “Go.”

“Remember what I said, don’t make me sic Hoseok on you for being disrespectful!” the man spouts even as Shadowsword is pushing him out, both laughing lightly.

It’s interesting, maybe even a little surprising, to see such genuine lightheartedness in a place that’s been notoriously dubbed a blight of darkness on the kingdom for the last decade. You never imagined being in the rebel encampment, much less that the encampment would be so…normal—drab even.

“Please, sit, have as much as you want.” He gestures to the wooden table lined on both sides with benches. The tent is large, similar to standard war command tents you’ve been inside. The bed you woke up on is farthest from the entryway, the changing screen to the side of that, and the table closest to the entrance with various smaller tables, chairs, and a few trunks scattered in the remaining space. Stacks and stacks of books and papers are strewn across most surfaces, and an entire barrel of maps is stashed in the corner by the larger table.

You take your time approaching the table, allowing yourself to take in the tent's interior, tucking away all vital and essential pieces of information you can. The fact you can so effortlessly function now and file things away appropriately is like a drink of water all its own, but the metal pitcher on the table glistening with condensation beckons you still.

Sliding onto the bench on the opposite side of the table so your back is to a canvas wall. It’s the most advantageous seat, letting you continue to keep an eye on Shadowsword. You snag an empty goblet, give it a tentative sniff, and then pour a generous amount of water from the pitcher before gulping it down. It’s so cold it hurts, but the instant relief as it hits your stomach is like a soothing balm to the ache.

“It’s cold,” you murmur, taking a smaller swallow before refilling the cup. “Enchanted?”

“We collect it from small rivulets that come down off the mountain. Natural filtration through the bedrock and bubbles up here before emptying into the outlet to the southeast that goes to the sea.” It’s an easy explanation and makes sense to you.

It comes naturally to focus on the goblet in your hand and the water sliding over your tongue. The crisp liquid takes on the slightest hint of mint as you draw on the warmth in your chest, testing the validity of his words. The mountain's chill and the earth's integrity bubble like added flavors as you take another sip.

Calm clarity swirls within the mix of sensations, dripping from the goblet and supporting the water. Whoever formed and worked the metal to make this vessel enjoyed their craft and created it with extra care in mind.

So, he’s at least telling you the truth about the water and didn’t offer you a poison-laced goblet to drink from. That’s no guarantee he will speak honestly or have no ill intentions when it comes to anything else. “What is it you wish me to listen to, Shadowsword?”

His brow pinches as he draws closer, grabbing a chair and spinning it around to straddle the back and rest his elbows along the top. There is intention in the fact he chose to sit several feet away, close enough to talk but far enough away that he’d have time to react if you tried to take a jab at him…or for him to catch you before you could bolt for the loose tent flap over the entrance.

“Jungkook, you can call me Jungkook. I don’t really care for that name…Shadowsword, it sounds more like a curse.”

“You are a curse to many,” you say, dropping your eyes to the stretch of food before you. The large platter on the table has a plethora of different morsels, everything from cheese and meat to jams, slices of bread, and fresh fruit. “Are these really apples?” you ask, the word feeling foreign on your tongue.

There is a moment of hesitation that has you glancing up at Shado—Jungkook. You might not be able to hear his thoughts, but you can read the micro-expressions on his face well enough. He’s uncomfortable with what you said about him being a curse. But, he sighs and answers your question instead of pressing the other, “They are. Quite delicious, too. Very sweet, juicy, but still crisp. We’re so close to the border that it’s been easy to establish a trade route with Norkham.”

“I didn’t realize they would be so willing to trade with an enemy of the Crown,” you mutter, grabbing one of the fleshy red and yellow dappled fruits.

Jungkook lets out a derisive snort. “Norkham doesn’t care for the ‘Golden War’,” he scoffs, twisting the name the conflict between him and his father has been dubbed. “My gold is just as good as my father’s. But, unlike my father, I’m not scared of red fruits. Contrary to what is believed, they’re not poisonous. Well, most aren’t, at least.”

You rub your thumb along the shiny peel before bringing it to your nose and inhaling the slightly sweet fragrance. Letting the warmth settle in your chest, you open yourself to tasting not the fruit itself but its journey and memory. It’s passed through a few hands, always handled with the utmost care.

There is the subtle taste of fresh, clean water soaked into the soil and drank through the tree's roots that nurtured the fruit. Nothing about the apple tells you it’s dangerous. If anything, you pick up on the fact that it’s been paired and prepared with other foods that mean you no harm; the whole platter is safe.

With that in mind, you put the apple against your mouth and take a bite. Or you try to, at least, the skin is resistant and then snaps as your teeth sink in, surprising you. “Oh,” you muffle against the fruit, unable to hold back a laugh as you break off a chunk.

Sweetness bursts on your tongue, mixing with the mildly floral taste. It’s something you’ve only ever dreamed of experiencing. Your chuckle turns into a cough as you see the look on Jungkook’s face as he stares at you. His lips are curved into an easy smile, and his eyes are soft, like he’s enjoying watching you.

“It’s good, right? Apples are one of my favorites.” Your eyes track his as they flick from the fruit to your mouth as you take another bite.

He’s right. It is crisp yet still juicy. Your mouth floods with flavor. A drip collects at the corner of your mouth and slips down your chin. A flutter of confidence lights in your chest as Jungkook licks his lips before tearing his eyes from the juice on your chin and how you swipe your tongue out to try and collect it.

As with washing behind the screen, you’d spend more time playing your game if you weren’t so hungry. You gather some of the more familiar foods onto a small plate and begin to eat in earnest between more bites of the apple.

Right now, it’s hard to say how far you’re willing to take this game. Your training has instilled pretty much no boundaries regarding mission objectives. Though, due to your level of power, after you finished your fourth year of standard scribe training, you were sent to a specialist at The Serpent, the Mave-specific garrison on an island west of the capital.

The intention wasn’t necessarily to keep your potency a secret. Everyone knew you were pretty powerful. But, no one knew you were more powerful than even the Crown’s own Psion, who just so happens to be your cousin, Larzon. You haven’t seen Larz in years, and even then, it was only in passing at your graduation ceremony before you were promptly assigned to General—then Colonel—Marvick’s care.

What’s essential for you to remember is that you have an end goal; get out alive and, if possible, take Goris with you. He doesn’t deserve to be chained with Helnite, regardless of what he’s done as a war colonel. You know all about the casualties of war and that when it all boils down to it, each side thinks they’re in the right while the other thinks they’re wrong. War leaves very little room for a grey area, making it all simply black, white, and copious amounts of red.

“I have one question before I listen to whatever it is you want to tell me…” you pause before adding his real name instead of the one he’s been given by the Crown for his rebellion, “Jungkook.”

His shoulders roll back, and he tilts his head from side to side. “Sure, if that will earn me your undivided and apt attention.”

“Goris told me of your relationship to him. How is it you could so easily, so callously beat him to a broken, bleeding mess?”

A harsh breath hollows his chest as he shifts in his seat. “Easily? There was nothing easy about it. Callously? I’m sure you know all about doing what you have to in order to get what you need. I didn’t want to hurt Rit. I’ve considered him a friend for longer than I’ve thought of him as my enemy. Perhaps what I have to tell you will help you see that I didn’t enjoy it. It’s just a necessary part of the bigger picture.”

You can hear the genuine nature of his words. They sound like the truth, but you’ve not been around him long enough to honestly know how good he is at deception. All you have to go off of is everything you’ve read. The rebellion started when you were still in training, just before you began the additional time at The Serpent. It’s hard to believe that was a decade ago now. Though, it feels like a much shorter time. War moved at its own pace, chugging along whether you can keep up or not.

“Go ahead, let’s hear your reasoning behind the last ten years.” Your gesture toward him with a chunk of bread. “I’ll listen.”

“I’ll start from the beginning,” he says. “But first, I’d like you to have this.” Jungkook stands and moves over to one of the smaller trunks near his bed. He kneels, the soft scent of clove permeates the air as shadows slither out from seemingly nowhere. They undulate and cover the chest before an audible pop sounds, and they drift away, revealing the chest now open.

“What’s that?” you ask. He holds up a pin that’s a golden dragon surrounded by a crown.

“It was my father’s,” he murmurs. “It’ll show you the validity of my words when you’re ready to bear that burden.”

The pin is heavy in your hands. He settles back in the chair as you observe the dragon’s form. There are distinct, crusty splotches caught in the fine details. Even without opening yourself to the warmth in your chest, from the barely-there scent of hellfire and metal, you can tell it’s blood…old blood—dragon’s blood, shed in violence. You shiver, your eyes meeting his as he begins to explain.

🖤🖤🖤

Jungkook

It takes far longer to tell you everything than he thought it might. He hadn’t realized just how much there was. You didn’t ask many questions, just making noncommittal sounds when he revealed more sensitive bits of information. But it’s all out there now. You’ve heard it all…every gritty, unbelievable detail. Jungkook knows how hard it is to believe. If he was the one listening, he’d probably have laughed and walked out halfway through. The fact you’re still sitting there, idly swirling a slippery piece of rockmelon on your plate, gives him at least a tiny bit of hope.

“Let’s say I do believe you. What is it you want from me? How can I possibly help you?” You shove the plate away, leaning your elbows on the table as you stare at him with a pinched expression on your face. You pocketed the pin shortly after he started his explanation, and you haven’t touched it since. He wonders if it’s burning a proverbial hole in your pocket. “If you haven’t been able to make a difference in ten years, what makes you think you can now?”

He’s been thinking about this, too. Since things went wrong with Krut at the turret in Fort Orit, he’s been scrambling to devise an alternative plan and the best way to utilize you and Rit to his advantage. In an idyllic world, he would have taken Poli as captive as intended. He had it on good authority that she would have listened to him without much persuasion.

What he knows that you seem not to is that Poli was more of a sympathizer than she appeared to be. It was the key Jungkook clung to, the fact that Poli Marvick cared more about the people—all people—than she did the Crown. The first mention of innocent lives being on the line and she would have been like a bee drawn to a flower, unable to resist the powdery grains of justice.

Though, he knows bringing that up right now will just shut you down. You might be willing to listen to his bizarre story, but you wouldn’t entertain the thought of your precious friend being capable of being a rebel sympathizer…not yet, at least. Ulgrin Krut is another story. You relented on that pretty quickly. He’s curious about who else you could easily see being a weak link in the Golden Chain of command. But that’s a thought for another time.

“You’re the most powerful Psion I’ve ever encountered.” That’s the crux of what sparked his near-instant obsession with you and what’s been fueling his possessiveness. You represent the hope and opportunity he’s been desperately searching for—the answer to finally putting a stop to a decade of struggling. “You have the ability to discern fact from falsity. That in and of itself could help sway the tide of my cause. If you believe me and stand by me and say it’s true, they’ll believe you.”

Your laugh surprises him. “You can’t think it’s that simple, can you? You realize they’ll think I’m just as daft as you are. They’ll think I’ve been corrupted. Just because I’d say something is true wouldn’t make it so. Having the power I do doesn’t mean I can’t still lie, too.”

“Perhaps, but if I could just get into the palace, I know where there is evidence that can back up my claims, and no one would be able to argue it. Just as that pin in your pocket can help you understand, what’s in the palace can make everyone understand. That’s really what I needed from Krut and what I now need from you. Help me get into the palace, and I’ll prove it all to be true to the rest of the kingdom.”

“Are you just going to beat me into submission? How are you going to make me agree to help you?”

This is something he hasn’t quite figured out yet. He’s not sure what else he can offer you other than the freedom to use your power as you want to find all the answers you need. So, he starts with that. “As I said before, you’re welcome to use your power on anything or anyone you wish. But please start with the pin.” You flinch when he says anyone, but not as hard as before.

There isn’t a lot of public knowledge about Psions for apparent reasons. But, one thing he does know about all of them, including you, is that finding the answers and retaining factual information will always be your first goal. It’s something he’s kept in mind every time he’s brought it up, offering that small nugget of temptation. It’s forbidden, taboo…but maybe, just maybe, he’s piqued your curiosity enough that you’ll be too curious to resist.

“What is this supposed to show me?” you ask, finally pulling the pin back out. It catches in the overhead lights, glinting like a guiding star that will lead you to all the answers you need.

Jungkook licks his lips. This could be the moment of truth. “My father was wearing it the day I confronted him.” He hopes he’ll get to see your gift in action. Watch the realization steal across your features as you see his words for the truth they are.

“What an innocuous little thing. Who would guess it could potentially lead to the end of a decade-long war?” The words are spoken softly, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him.

He feels like he’s viewing a private moment, but no matter how intrusive it feels, he can’t seem to look away. Jungkook is realizing that it’s not just your power that’s alluring. There is an exotic quality to you that is calling to his inner desires. He’s never noticed it before, but the color of your eyes seems to shift, never staying the same shade of brown, green, or blue. In fact, if someone were to ask him what color your eyes are, he’s not sure he could answer them.

If there ever was something he wishes he would have paid more attention to, it’s the history of your kind. Being the crown prince, he had access to any and all information available, even to the more obscure texts and subjects, like Psions.

You caress the ring of gold surrounding the dragon, like you’re stalling or perhaps putting off reading the pin with your ability. It’s obvious the dark rusty-looking splotches are blood. Anyone would be able to discern that. But, he’s reasonably sure you can tell it’s not just any blood but the blood from a dragon. Dragon’s blood has a distinct smell to it, even after being dried onto a chunk of metal for a decade. It’ll still smell subtly like brimstone and hot metal.

The pin has sat in that enchanted chest for almost the entire time he’s been in exile. It was on a whim that he put it in there, thinking that one day when he finally meted out justice to his father, he’d perhaps melt the pin down and turn it into something else. He came by it by accident, anyway. Now, it’s a talisman of the truth and maybe an indicator that he was meant to tuck it away for all these years; for this very moment. 

🖤🖤🖤

You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you as you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. There’s an urge to meet his eyes to gauge his reaction, but you push away that distracting thought and let your eyes go unfocused as your fingers tighten around the pin. The first thing you feel is bone-deep indifference, then a brief flit of hope, followed by anger so malevolent it makes your teeth ache…the emotions and feelings ingrained in the pin sweep in, painting such a clear picture for you.

————

“Father, call for the healer!” Jungkook shouts, cradling the large adult blue dragon’s head. Blood leaks from its open mouth, soaking quickly through his green flight garb. “Onyx, get back!” He shoos his juvenile dragon away when it becomes too curious. “Father! Father, please!”

“Jungkook, come away from the beast. Leave it be. It’s too late.” The fact the dragons are beginning to die after barely ten years of service has been an unforeseen nuisance.

The wild-eyed teenager lumbers to his feet, blood-covered hands trembling by his sides. “Leave it be? It’s the sixth dragon to die in less than a week! You said the new bonding was safe! If it’s safe, why are they dying?”

“Just terrible coincidences, nothing more,” King Jeon mutters, internally rolling his eyes as his son quivers beside him. “That’ll be all for today. You’re dismissed.”

Jungkook swings around and grips the front of his father’s robe, fingers pinching around the golden pin denoting his status as king. “But, Fathe—“

“You. Are. Dismissed.” King Jeon holds up a hand to silence any more protests. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Jungkook jerks his hands back, turns on his heel, and stalks away. It’s evident that Jungkook is becoming far too curious about the recent deaths. He can’t find out the truth, no matter the cost.

Moving to the parapet, King Jeon glares out over the wall surrounding the dragon corral, the large stable-like building that serves as a coop where the Reavers reside when their Maves are attending to other duties. Tearing his eyes from the expanse of the sprawling capital city, he casts an indifferent look at the large blue-black body still bleeding on the ground of the training pit.

The scuffing of boots draws the King’s attention to the dark doorway of the dragon corral a moment before Fenrin appears.

“Your Grace.” Fenrin bows deeply, sweeping his arms out to either side. “I come bearing fortunate news.”

“Speak plainly, Fenrin, the hour is late, and I’d like to retire to my wife’s side before dinner.”

Fenrin straightens to his full height, towering over the king by a few inches. “We’ve found a strong Brute close to the Western Garrison, fresh from The Steppes and powerful if his build is any indication. He’ll do well for you.”

“Would be better news had you told me we finally found a way to keep them from dying,” the King mutters. “Very well, Fenrin. When will you have the beast ready?”

“Just a few days' time. Sooner if we leave now, Your Grace.”

“Make it so.” The King flicks a dismissive hand, turning before Fenrin can bow in departure, and briskly closes the distance to the postern door leading into the main living quarters for the royal family. He stops just before disappearing inside, glancing over his shoulder. Fenrin is staring at the dead dragon, his face blank and devoid of emotion. “Oh, and Fenrin?”

The man cuts his eyes up, an oily smile sliding onto his face. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“See to it that’s taken care of,” he says, jerking his chin toward the scaly body. “Same as the others.”

The palace is divided into different sections, the living quarters one of the most guarded interior spaces. He passes several guards, all dressed in their golden armor. The few Maves that are attached to the capital are currently doing rounds across the city, patrolling the skies before the sun goes down. Luckily, the blue dragon’s Rider is presently undergoing additional tutelage at The Shield. He won’t know the dragon’s dead for another fortnight. By then, a new dragon will be ready for him to bond, he’ll forget all about the other. 

“Your Grace,” one of the liveried servants bows as King Jeon enters the parlor that leads to his sleeping chambers.

“My wife?” he asks, glancing around the open space. When the Queen isn’t leading tutoring sessions with the younger ladies of court, she spends her time tucked in the window seat of the parlor reading or working on needlepoint. It’s too late for the classes, yet she’s not relaxing in the window seat either.

“In the garden, Your Grace. She wished for a bit of fresh air.”

He nods, moving toward the door leading to the sleeping chamber. The windows are open, letting in the sweet musky scent of the plum flowers that like to climb and snake along the walls of the palace.

Unclipping the stays holding his golden cloak in place, King Jeon lets it flutter to the floor where he stands in front of the cold fireplace. It’s been a long day, one warranting at least a chalice of the fire brandy that gets imported from Norkham. It’s rumored they use apples when making it, and that’s what makes it have that unique flavor and burn. People say the burn is the poison of the fruit, slowly leeching into the drinkers' bloodstream—fairytale nonsense.

As he turns to head toward the small console table where a collection of liquor bottles is waiting, something in the corner of the room catches his attention.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” His son sits in one of the armchairs opposite the liquor table. Shadows coalesce in the corner, pulsing softly as Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees: his eyes, a near mirror of the King’s own, glint from the darkness.

“You’re a murderer.”

The heat of anger fills King Jeon’s chest, making it expand. He grips the thick strand that attaches him to his Reaver, Vikmag. Lightning crackles along his veins, fizzing and sparking at his fingertips before he can reign it in.

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

“I overheard you and Fenrin. You thought I left like a good little soldier. Father, you shouldn’t be so loose with your tongue lest you reveal your madness to the world. I guess I’ll do it for you,” he snarls, launching to his feet. A wicked blade catches the light coming in from the open windows, poised perfectly for an offensive attack in Jungkook’s hand. “You said the new bonding was safe…you lied! You knew they were going to die. You knew they’d grow sick and weak. You’re a monster! They’re sentient beings, for gods’ sake. They have souls, and yet you still force them to bond!”

“You insolent fool, you think you know so much, but yet you know nothing!” King Jeon sneers.

“I know you’re willfully killing beautiful beings. And for what? So you can stay alive while your dragon dies? So you can reap the benefits of their power even in death? Are you so greedy, Father?”

“I knew you’d never understand. Nothing I say will change how you feel. So what if the new bonding kills the dragons, it’s better them than us.” The King sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head toward the ceiling.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Jungkook lashes out, blade and shadows striking. The room fills with the rumble of thunder and a flash of brilliant light. Heat sears across skin, blistering flesh beneath green cloth. A second strike of lightning rends through the open space between the two men, the pressure of the electric power directing the wave of shadows and the small blade.

In a large, concussive blast, the two combating powers slam into the center of the room. Wood and feathers spray into the air as an entire half of the bed takes the brunt of the strike.

As shadows swirl and fill the room, swallowing the erratic snaps of lightning and rolling cracks of thunder, the cold edge of a blade parts warm flesh. The King jerks back, hand flying to his cheek and sliding through the blood dribbling down his face. 

Jungkook lunges again, swinging the blade for another swipe, but King Jeon jerks again, the dagger missing his face but biting into the muscle of his chest. Fabric rips free, a slight weight tangling it around the blade.

“Your Grace!” the words echo from the parlor before a flood of guards pours into the room.

“Seize him!” King Jeon screams, stumbling backward.

Jungkook and his father exchange one last look before Jungkook snags a small whistle from inside his bloody top and then sprints across the room, golden soldiers close on his heels and flings himself out the window.

————

The golden pin falls from your limp fingers, landing with a soft thud on the ground between your feet. It’s hard to tell whether it’s sweat or tears coating your face. You swipe the back of a trembling hand over your eyes.

“W-why haven’t you...why haven’t you sought out a Psion before th-this?” Your voice warbles, and you have to swallow hard a few times to keep from losing the food you just ate.

It all feels too raw, far too real. You’ve never experienced something so visceral when reading an object. Your body aches. Your cheek burns, even though there is no cut there. There’s a fiery line that feels branded across your stomach. It’s like everything from that day is imprinting itself upon your body with phantom pains.

“Psions are rare. It’s not like I could have requested one from the capital. You’re part of a coveted kind, precious and protected. Had it not been for—“ he pauses, not needing to remind you how you came to be in this encampment. “The important part is you’re here now, and you’ve seen the truth.” Your bleary eyes slide up from where they were gazing at the pin on the ground to land on him. He tugs the bottom of his shirt out from where it’s tucked into the tops of his breeches and then pushes it up to expose his stomach. A long, puckered scar slashes his otherwise pristine skin. “His lightning strike nearly killed me. All because I found out the truth.”

You wet your dry lips, staring at the bubbled skin until he drops his shirt back down to cover it. “So, when he discovered the new way to bond that doesn’t tether a dragon soul to their rider…it’s not—they really die?”

Jungkook blows out a breath. “I’ve been gathering as much intel as possible about it since that day. He was right. No one truly cares. Not the right people, at least. Everyone here,” he sweeps a hand out, indicating the encampment, “they held no true power out in the world. We’re all just a bunch of outcasts, the misfits, and the unwanted. But all the Maves and Reavers here are here because they believe me. We all have soul-bonds, we all know what that means and how sacred it is. After I found out how my father has desecrated and forsaken that...not even him having his own soul-bond can change that ultimate betrayal. All of the beings here know just as well as I do that my father is a cruel man with no regard for the beautiful lives of the dragon kind.”

“The Stepping Isles are sacred ground. It’s protected,” you insist, reciting words that have been ingrained in you through the teaching of the capital. “If you take your forces there, you can stop him from gathering more dragons.”

“We’ve tried sending parties to The Steppes, but the islands are controlled by the Crown and he has them on such a tight lockdown now that it’s nearly impossible even to get close to the Western Garrison. The few Brutes we’ve come across over the years have been ones that escaped into Norkham. The last glimpse I got of The Stepping Isles was one of a breeding farm. They’re mating the dragons and then forcing them to bond to Riders. It’s barbaric…yet no one is raising a hand to try and stop my father because everyone who has any sort of influence and power are the ones who are reaping the benefits.”

Even as someone who doesn’t know what it feels like to have a bond like that between a Mave and their Reaver, you’re still aware of how utterly atrocious this is. It can’t continue. The revelation settles deep in your chest. You’re about to forsake everything you’ve ever known to be true. You’ll be an oath breaker…something that churns your stomach sourly but not as bad as how the bitter tang of betrayal coats your tongue. You believed in the Crown, you’ve defended the Crown…now you’re going to destroy it.

“I’ll help you,” you whisper.

“What did you say?” There’s no denying the lilt of hope in Jungkook’s voice.

You clear your throat, sitting up straighter and meeting Jungkook’s dark, liquid eyes. “I’ll do it. I’ll help you.” Something deep in your chest cracks and bleeds with your words. Whether it’ll turn into a festering wound or a beautiful opportunity for growth, only time will tell.

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[squeakintothevoid]

Imagine Dragons lyrics that stand out to me as an exmormon

If you didn't know, Dan Reynolds, the lead singer, was raised Mormon.

And by my own volition I've been a saint, I've been the truth, I've been the lie

I took a photograph of me When I was only nineteen I looked a little lost at sea I keep trying to find me So pray for me, brother, I need redemption I'm just a man, a man on a mission

Dan was an LDS missionary.

And the saints we see are all made of gold

The LDS church has amassed over $200 billion.

This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come

This line just reminded me of the Mormon stress about which kingdom you're gonna end up in when you die.

Everybody waiting for the fall of man

Mormons believe in the second coming of Jesus, which would happen after the world has fallen deeply into sin.

Looking at my years like a martyrdom

"Martyrdom" just stood out to me because Mormons always go on about how the founder Joseph Smith was martyred along with other figures that got killed for their faith.

Never be enough, I'm the prodigal son

This bible story is told frequently at Mormon church.

Pray it away, I swear I'll never be a saint, no way

"Pray the gay away", Mormons believe any gay "behaviors" are a major sin.

Will somebody Let me see the light within the dark trees shadowing?

Reminds me of the story of the "first vision" of Joseph Smith, the founder of the religion.

Does happiness lie in a diamond ring?

Marriage in an LDS temple is basically required to be happy and go to the best level of heaven.

Packing my bags and giving the academy a rain check

Dan got kicked out of the Mormon college, Brigham Young University, because he broke a huge LDS rule.

Oh, it's a crooked old tradition By a masterful magician

The founder Joseph Smith claimed to use magic rocks to find treasure and translate the Book of Mormon.

I've been told just what to do Where to look and point my view

Mormons have lots of rules. Mormons get regularly interviewed by their bishop starting as young as age 7 to make sure they're keeping all the arbitrary rules.

We are afflicted by fiction, by fiction Buildin' a case for eviction, eviction, circlin' Guarding a tower of ancients, of ancients

Mormons are big on genealogy. Part of having a Mormon faith crisis is freaking out about disappointing all your ancestors and rejecting your family's traditions.

Since I was young, my ancestry Was marching martyrdom across the Radadada dumbla plains of Utah

Lots of Mormons have pioneer ancestors. And lots of them died.

Have a seat in the foyer, take a number

Okay, this lyric is here just because I feel like nobody but Mormons use the word "foyer", it's just a lobby to everyone else. Here's a foyer to an LDS church. It's the stuff of nightmares, I know. (no joke, I actually did get nightmares about these halls and I'm not alone)

So yeah, maybe I'm reading into some of them, but those lyrics always stand out a bit when I'm listening. Hope this was interesting to some of you.