#(please ignore the lack of sword-carrying) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwaasfairy · 9 months

Text

┌─ “ ! „ FLUIDITY

tw. dubcon, monsterfucking, explicit size kink, interspecies sex, reader has sex pollen like effects, communication barrier, manipulation, yandere (other parts will contain a lot more explicit dark kinks so please read every individual part's warnings!) wordcount. 8.7k

part 1 of —

a/n. ♡♡ thank you so much rhi for keeping me going through this, idk if i would have pushed through if not for you so ily ily ily and this fic is just indulgence as a period piece and a monsterfucking fic but i hope you give it a chance and like it bc there's moresomes a-coming and this is just the beginning so! yeA i hope you guys enjoy mwuah mwuah mwuah ♡♡

tachibana makoto x fem!reader ( x other characters coming)

Dragonflies glint the prettiest, richest silver you’ve ever seen under the right light. The rosy evening sun casts the entire river into a blooming glow— complete with a soft blanket of fog that rolls along the base of the trees. “Your maiden servants worry about you, you know,” a voice softly calls, and the rustle of shrubbery makes you turn.

You don’t really want to know how long the man’s been guarding you without a word. If it were anyone but one of your father’s most trusted men, you’d probably have some distrust. Instead you only pull your knees to your chest, and continue tossing rocks into the babbling brook.

“Lady, it’ll get dark soon. Your parents don’t want you playing out here so late.”

The small area isn’t open enough to lure any visitors. You’d be fine. Still, you slowly bob your head, waiting for him to step away from the tree edge into the river bank with you. “I had a weird dream, only it didn’t feel like a dream.” The reeds sway in the wind, and you almost let the perfect surrounding whisk away the thought. But the man’s hand drops from his sword, and he gives the faintest of nods. “There was a monster here when I fell asleep— one with a huge mouth packed full of teeth. I saw eyes in the water, and hair so long it covered its whole body.” The tart remnants of your delicately applied makeup wash away as you swallow. “I think- it was a yokai.”

“There’s no yokai here, lady,” he patiently responds, and you turn to him better. This time taking a proper look. If the damp hair tied in a bun is anything to go off of, he was most likely called out of his bath to come out looking for you. You bite your lip, apology lingering on your tongue. But that’s where it stays, as the man continues. “There’s monsters only where people don’t go. You needn’t worry.”

“Are you comforting me?” A slight giggle passes your lips before you can help it. “I know you think I’m lying. You don’t believe anything you don’t see with your own eyes.”

“... It’s not for a lack of trying.” He smooths a hand over his hakama, before resting it back on the pristine handle of his sword. The dragonflies buzz over the low edge of the water, and your feet ache a little from the cold. You’d love to ask to be carried right about now, but spare the poor man the effort. It’s the least you can do. After another few minutes of silence and watching the sun disappear entirely below the tree line, he finally clears his voice. “Come on, lady. We should really get back. You’re precious to your parents. You’re precious to us all. I can’t leave you here.”

This river runs from the high mountains all the way through the small lake that borders the gates of your home; and all the way down the lowlands— and it’s said that on the day of your birth the river flooded, and provided the most bountiful harvest of the last few decades. Even as a child, there was no ignoring the gleeful whispering of the ladies, nor the calculated introductions of sons of poorer lords at every birthday or feast. Some day not too long from now you will get married and spread providence over the land… and there won’t be time for napping by rivers or running off half-dressed into the forest.

Somehow, despite the honor, a small part of you goes cold at that. The water glistens under the last of the light— and you take a long look into the deep of it. The eyes the color of hot coals flash through your mind once more, and you start pulling the fabrics of your dresses aside to put your zori back on. “I know it was a monster- but-” The wind picks up when you turn over your shoulder and smile your most genuine smile. “I wasn’t scared, I think. Perhaps it was friendly.”

The guard is quiet as he watches you get up from the riverbank, and sticks a comfortable distance after helping you gently up onto your feet. You suppose he doesn’t really have the heart, or perhaps confidence, to tell you what he really thinks of your childish talk. The barely-there path back to your home has you growing much more tired— as if weights are tied to your legs. You wish you could stay. The moss crunches softly under your feet, and the dewy air starts to feel a bit cold to the touch. Despite everything, it’s always peaceful here. You cast a brief glance up to the man as he pushes the shrubbery aside. His face has a vacant sort of look, until he catches you looking, and his mouth curls up. “I’ll tell your maiden servants to prepare a purifying ritual for you.”

“Ugh, no, please. Anything but that.”

“The koi fish aren’t around anymore, are they, lady?” There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as your maid walks up.

You nod, lift your sleeves to brush your fingers through the water and wait. You got them as a present for your coming of age festivities— the most beautiful blue grey with red fins— much too expensive for your liking but a courting gift nonetheless. You’d been quite fond of the walks out of your houses’ walls because of them. The feed floats sadly on the surface of the inlet, where the clear river water shows no sign at all of the normally curious animals. “It seems like they’ve gone.” What a shame.

Your other maiden scans the area, before rushing to help you up onto your feet as she lowers her head. “Should we ask the master to procure some more? We know feeding the fish brings you much joy.”

The girl helps to fix your sleeves again, before awaiting your call. “No, that’s quite alright. There’s no use replacing a gift.” You cast a wary glance at the bay once more, not quite sure what you’re looking for; but fail to find anything out of the ordinary. A sight furrow comes to your brow, before you hike up your layers of skirts- much to the shock of your two servants- and turn to them with a softer smile. “I would like to be alone for a bit—”

“Lady!” one of them squeaks, but you only laugh.

“I am certain, Hitsu. Tell my father I will be home before tea and dinner, and if you could prepare my bath…” The dark brunette has a question on her tongue, but does nod with the same trained properness that you’ve come to know. “I simply wish to walk along the river, I won’t swim. It’ll be quick, I promise.” It’s not a lie. You have no intention of ruining your beautiful, expensive clothing by going any further than a shallow few steps. But there’s a nagging memory somewhere in the back of your mind—

You used to have so many dreams, all of them now too faint to recall. Both young ladies give each other a look, before eventually bowing deeply and heading back towards the palace gates.

See, that nagging sense that you’re forgetting something important, something crucial, overcomes you. It’s almost impossible to ignore, and you kick off your shoes to tread carefully along the edge of the deep pool of fresh spring water. The moss is soft under your feet, keeping a tight grip on your embroidered silks.

When you were only a few years old, you used to have these dreams. Dreams of drowning, of ghouls and demons. They grew scarcer the older you got, and eventually even the weekly purification spells and chants became declared unnecessary. But where the memories once sat, now only a blank hole remains in your mind. And however hard you try to remember, you can never quite get there. You make it to the sloped edge of the river not much later, stepping up the small sputtering waterfall and a few round stones between stray bamboo— nearly still water pooling at your feet.

It’s chilly, but not freezing. Something scratches in the back of your skull, deep down. It trickles down your neck, and with a steady heartbeat, it breathes.

But you can’t catch the thought, and the harder you try, the cloudier it becomes— eventually you click your tongue and start walking along the water edge up stream. You should look for your fish. If they swam out of the inlet somehow, maybe they’d be around. They are, much like you are, bred for captivity and wouldn’t survive too long on their own. The sun casts warm spring rays onto your skin, walking in much needed solitude. When you barely realize you’ve spaced out, you’ve already made it to a bend in the river where peach blossoms float on the otherwise pristine surface of the water— and despite your previous care, you drop your dress.

The blossoms swirl in slow circles. And a raindrop lands on your nose.

Arms, wrapped tight around your chest. Claws. Wide lashless eyes.

Something floods your brain so suddenly that you stumble back a few steps and gasp, sucking in a breath.

It was here. You can’t exactly make out what, but your gut recognizes the trees, the scraggly stones sticking out of the water. Your lungs full of water, and hands all over.

Bumps rise all over your back as you look around, and water seeps up along your tarikubi robe. It’s so quiet, and the stillness starts to trouble with each droplet that comes down. But you breathe. You’ve been here, perhaps more than once, and the aching, pressing itch deep in your head grows more unbearable. When a metallic flicker catches your eyes, you glance down. The rain now starts up more properly, and though the trees provide some shelter, there’s no hiding away from the cold as you walk in just deep enough to bend and pick up a dainty golden chain from between the smooth rocks.

It’s fine like thread, and cold to the touch, and though you can’t quite explain it; something about this finely crafted piece is familiar too. Even through the rain and the chills crawling all the way up your spine, you study the necklace closer. The intricate detail is almost too pristine.

A soft splash on the other side of the river startles you— The sudden scare makes you lose your balance and fall back onto your lower end. Hard. The ache immediately has you whimpering, but instead of worrying about the pain, you slowly try to catch yourself on the rocks; pained enough in the motion that you swear — you see a person diving underneath the water edge. Something pale and fast. You scream, and whatever you saw dashes away before you can think about doing different. The blossoms drift off as you scramble back up; your bruised palms sting, and your heartbeat still hammers hard in your throat when the silence returns.

But the blurry flash of maroon hair and fiery red eyes you caught is long gone.

And much too soon, the clouds that had seemed so fluffy and beautiful earlier turn a dreary grey. You turn on your heel and book it back down the river side on bare feet— still clamping the chain between your fingers.

The wick of your lantern splutters with thick oil as you fail to catch sleep. Even with the spring weather it’s chilly, with you remaining wrapped under a thick blanket. You breathe a long sigh, and listen to the crackling of the candle beside your bed in the absence of any other sound. The earlier lecture of your father, your mother, and even the normally quiet and collected matron of the house still lingers on your mind— it’s not like you can blame anyone. You wouldn’t be the first stupid, brazen young girl who happened to drown, and despite the quiet lives most girls like you live, you most likely won’t be the last.

You shouldn’t have been out there. Your servants had been ghastly pale from fright upon seeing the state in which you returned, and even the thorough scrubbing and hours-long bath didn’t do much to alleviate the ache in your lower back.

Despite all that, you’re stuck. Eyes -monstrous, unnatural eyes- appear in the crevices of your mind each time you close your own. No amount of prayer makes the longing fade, and the longer you lay here, the deeper they seem to dig into your flesh. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin once more. When you throw your blankets off you, you go digging in one of the woven baskets for the thickest bland garments you’ve got— tying them around your hips until you’re dressed enough to peer out into the hall. The frigid air current howls through the house when you gather your lantern, some woven socks, and after a brief bit of deliberation; snatch the golden chain from beside your pillow.

The palace is quiet at night, an almost eerie sort of calm that is broken only by the soft ‘pats’ of your feet on the hardwood— with the lanterns barely providing enough light to see a good arms length at a time. The wind pushes you forward, nuzzling deeper into the collar of your clothing until you make it outside. Even under the starry sky, there’s no doubt that this is a stupid idea. No good can come from nightly outings — though you’ve seen girls come and go in similar ways under the cover of night, you’re quite sure their purpose was less out-for-trouble than you are now. But what else can you do?

How could you ever sleep soundly not knowing what’s out there.

With only the flickering reflection on the water, you bow before your home— you’d be back soon enough. You love your clan— and you have no intention of getting caught in long lectures twice in a night. The guards at the gates have no way of noticing you as you slip into the brush and cover the lamp from sight, as cold breaths form clouds before your eyes.

Your legs move almost instinctively until you come upon the peach tree, and the pretty white flowers rain down with the breeze. You place the candle by your feet; and hesitate before taking your own seat on a round rock right by the water edge. You’ve never seen a yokai. Not that you can remember at the very least, but if you would have-you didn’t expect to here. Not the river that blessed your birth, or the one who gives everyone life by way of harvest. Maybe what you saw was a farmer bathing, or a particularly pale, large cod— wouldn’t that make more sense. Isn’t that exactly why you didn’t tell your father?

Because naïvity and silly wonder seems better than monsters lurking among the shrub.

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, a soft splashing in the water sets every hair on your body upright— and your mouth goes dry. It’s so dark. So awfully dark that it’s hard to see even past your own feet, if not for the broken reflection of your candle in the water. You know it's there. You feel it, by the rancid sort of churning in your stomach, the rapid beating of your heart. You swallow the tightness in your throat as best you can. “I’ve come to return your necklace. I didn’t mean to steal it, so I’ve come to give it back.” You wish you could let your eyes grow used to the dark, but without candle light, it’d be so much harder to get back home in one piece.

After just the sounds of the river drag on, you slowly take another breath, and try to bite back the wetness that rises every time you try and fail to find the eyes you know are looking at you. “I don’t wish to harm anyone.” The wind seems to howl harder across the river, and you can’t fight the horrible visions of monsters all around you, just there in the darkness; tightening your hands into fists. “So I wish you would not harm me either. You can have it back.” Your hand shakes when you hold out the chain above the water— not nearly far enough for anything to reach it without coming into your sight. But you’re too frightened to go any deeper, and your lungs tighten.

“Please, I-”

The peaceful spluttering of the water is suddenly disrupted by a much louder splashing, and you freeze up with a sharp gasp, shoulders trembling despite yourself. You don’t dare move any more than that— only after a minute or so of silence, you continue. “Hello? Don’t you want your necklace back?”

The reeds shake in the wind, and one of the blossoms brushes along your cheek as it falls into your crouched lap. Your breathing is tense enough to almost hide the little mumble that reaches back. It’s soft, sweet like dripping honey, and makes your whole spine tingle. “We want.”

If you had any less sense, you’d probably run right back home. But the idea of moving is too terrifying, so you’re stuck rooted in place as you take a breath. The voice sounds young enough, but the Japanese is distinctly older than your own dialect, rolling off the tongue with a vague foreign lilt— and it takes your frightened brain a little longer than you want to process that the voice isn’t simply human. When another little splash sounds a bit closer, you pull your outstretched hand back to your chest. “Can you see me?” Your own voice wavers when trying to make out any shape in the river. Alas, it’s just so dark that any further effort hurts your eyes.

“Yes.”

“I’ve come to give back your necklace. I got scared and took it, I’m sorry. I mean no harm-”

“He told.” The voice is unbearably clear. Almost like it’s being spoken directly into your head, even though it’s just a mere whisper among the rippling water. It’s distracting, and feels ice cold between your ears.

“Who’s he?” you try, biting your lip. The river seems to stare back at you, and you can’t do anything but hope you aren’t making some horrible mistake. Are you supposed to talk to the monsters that go bump in the night? “I- I don’t know where you are, I can’t see you.” Despite the soft, gentle nature of the voice, your heart patters wildly, unable to let go of your fear when there’s another closer splash. You must only be a dozen feet away from each other now, and still you can’t even see past the water at your toes. The voice stays quiet for a while.

“You don’t see is … better.”

You don’t respond for even longer. But for whatever reason, you almost want to agree. Not seeing, he almost sounds like a childhood friend of yours. The soft, honeyed words aren’t so frightening when you can’t see what they’re being spoken by; and you gather your last bit of courage to softly open your palm out again towards the night. “I’ll throw it over to you. Can you catch it?”

“No ‘throw’.” The -whatever- struggles with the word as he says it, before going quiet. You’re not sure if he doesn’t want you to throw it, or he simply doesn’t understand— so you just bite your lip and wait for any further comments that eventually do follow. “You put paw- h-hand.” Then, after another breath, “Come.” With a slight tremble in your voice, you breathe out a little laugh. You are really being asked to be braver than any girl with sense would— dragging your lantern closer over the pebbles until it’s right by your feet. Cursing yourself, you blink back nervous tears, trembling as you hike up the edge of your skirts, just the tiniest bit, and place only one foot into the shallowest part of the river for stability.

Your hand drops halfway outstretched, and you watch the flame where she glints back on the chain.

More splashing makes way for a more disturbing sound once it surfaces, of a body dragging over the shallow of the river towards you, scraping along the blunt stones— and you almost dart away when the sound comes close enough to reach. But your fingertips are almost frozen solid when another hand comes ever faintly into view, and wetness drops into your palm. To call it a hand is gracious, you decide. There’s longer digits, clawed, and webbed between each bony finger, and the wet glossy skin is more curved spike than thumb. The paw slides carefully along your hand, swiping up the chain as it goes— and leaves a cold coating all over your palm that you snatch back too quickly.

It’s unbearable to stay so close to something and not see it now, and you quickly hurry back to the safety of your rock as the same shuffling goes back to the water. Your heartbeat’s in your throat, and you can’t find any polite words to offer it until the yokai speaks again.

“Rin present, with- no, f-for you. You give present back, make happy. I am thank you.” You’re welcome, you think, but you barely manage to paint on a little smile before wringing your hands together and picking your lantern back up for safekeeping.

“I’m heading home now. If I’m not back soon my guards will find out.” It doesn’t feel entirely appropriate to thank it for not killing you when it had ample chance to, so you stay quiet. But there’s also a sense of gratitude that washes over you. Soon you’ll be back in bed like all of this was a dream. That seems right. That seems good. Your tongue lingers on your words. “You … What's your name?” The river bank feels much safer now you’re back on solid ground, and you can see the peach blossoms you almost slipped on.

There’s another long pause, where you almost make a run for it back all the way home, before the voice sounds out again from the dark— sugary sweet in its tone.

“Makoto.”

You’re pretty sure you should be questioning your own sanity. Everyone else wouldn’t hesitate to, and after the few restless nights you’ve had, you should be staying as far away as you can. But curiosity, mixed with a slight sense of obligation, has you walking the river bank like a little droplet flowing back to the sea. The quiet, scruffy man following behind doesn’t say much… never does, and you can’t say you dislike it. But you feel the glances your way, distracting you. Soon you find yourself clearing your voice. “You’re wondering why I’m walking this same path again?”

The older man only hesitates for a moment. “No, lady.”

“Sure you are. I would wonder if I were you.” There’s a faint smile that makes its way up, glancing out over the babbling brook to your left as grass tickles your ankles. “Not too long now and I’ll be engaged…” The peach blossoms above are almost done blooming— and you’ve never known your father to be an indecisive man. “Walking gives me a little break from all the fussing attendants, and father's advisors. Which is why it’d be even better if I were alone-”

It doesn’t take much pushback at all for the man to stop in place and give you a little look, resting his hand on the handle of his sword. “Lady.”

“Oh, please Azuma-san, we’ve had this same conversation for years.”

“I am not to leave you unprotected-”

You turn on your heel to face him. “I want to swim.” The stubborn frown on his face doesn’t move an inch, as your eyes go a little more puppy-esque. You have to know, so you have to lie. It doesn’t bring you joy either, but you might go insane if you have to live with questions for the next twenty years barred in some fancy prison of your future husband’s making. “-Swim right here. Without my very expensive clothing getting ruined.” Still that stone wall refuses to budge, and you throw your last bit of dignity into the ring. If this was anyone else you’d never hear the end of your unrefined words. “So I am going to get undressed.”

“—Ag-lright, just quiet. Your servants hear you and I’ll be lynched in the square.” He sighs deeply, rubbing his hand over his scruff, then gives a little bow. He wants nothing more than to roll his eyes when you offer back a self-satisfied grin, but instead takes a few steps the way you came with a stern look. “I’ll ask one of your maiden servants to make her way over here.”

“Don’t tell her to hurry!” you chant back, only taking off the heaviest layer of clothing once he’s out of sight. You lay it safe out of reach, before kicking off your shoes and socks and waddling towards the big stones again. Sure enough, the river here is a lot deeper than it looks. There’s a ledge in the pool that’s dark enough for almost any kind of monster to hide. This at least means your midnight escape wasn’t a total delusion. The peaceful sway of water grass settles when you dip your toes in the water, and wonder. There’s only a brief few minutes where you sit to think, before a slight thrashing once again captures your attention.

Only when you look up, the river is still, safe for a few tiny fish jumping out of the water. You get up, and tie your skirts up higher to inspect. A large maroon shape darts away into the darkness before you can take a good look, splashing droplets all over the river bank— and you hold your breath. You aren’t crazy. That definitely was much larger than any fish you’ve ever seen, and such a brilliant color that nothing but yokai could possess it. Brighter than all the finest silks, shimmering like a mirror. You wait for what could be a few seconds or an hour, before… someone- something else starts coming up from the darkness.

The olive-golden glitter rises so slow you have no choice but to take in another breath, but luckily don’t scare it away. His light chestnut hair is chopped short-ish, and a strangely human face— with cloudy black eyes, and green gashes either side of his neck— where he hovers below the water surface. It’s not human though. The eyes are big, round and deer-like, nose flatter, and his skin seems almost pearlescent. You don’t have the ability to think if you’re brave or just frozen solid. But whatever the case, the humanesque monster seems to stare for quite a while before judging it safe enough to approach.

It’s only then that you get to see the full extent of his body, scaled from ribs down, with a snake-like bottom half that’s at least longer than your entire body, and ending in a beautiful fish-like tail that feathers out in glittering threads. “Oh…” you breathe, and your arms wrap around yourself for protection, but you still don’t move further. Can’t, more like.

The half-man is close enough -and real enough- to feel a bit nauseating. Close enough to set every hair on your body on end and have your heartbeat a wild patter. But it’s the voice that really makes you feel frigid, gulping for air when that soothing tone comes out of a monstrous mouth. Whatever you had expected to see… wasn’t this. You can’t make out if the near-resemblance is comforting, or more frightening. You shiver at the black tongue, against porcelain white teeth.

“You come back.”

Your nod is hesitant, and you fidget with your jewelry in an attempt to calm your nerves. “I- wanted to see who I’d been talking to, that night. I haven’t slept well since then.”

He hoists himself a little further out of the water onto both hands, clawed and boney. “That was you, right? Makoto?” The brunet only gives a single nod of response, and doesn’t take his dark eyes off you for a second. And you want to laugh, though it isn’t too funny. The scene is just so absurd that you have nothing else to do, but laugh. “Isn’t this weird, talking to each other? How come yokai speak Japanese?” your voice comes, and you only hear how childish you sound when it seems to hang over the river without answer.

Out of all the questions you can ask, that’s what is most important to you? Makoto is gracious as he scoots a little closer once again, scraping his long, heavily muscled tail up over the pebbles and stones. “I listen very many year. Always listen, listen woman, listen warrior, listen you.” He blinks, and blondish lashes are the only normality you have staring back at him. “All can’t speak like me. I -hmm, pras-”

“Practice?” you try, and he clearly agrees when his tail pats happily on the ground. When you smile, he grins back wide and kind, his teeth are much sharper than yours. There’s something so human about the look, that you feel your muscles unwind a little further. You suppose, if he wasn’t so strange looking, with the wrong shades and fins here and there; he’d be quite handsome. He’d go over well with the maiden servants in the clan, too. “Many years, huh? Then- How old are you?”

“Hmmm- old. Very…” He doesn’t seem it, though. You avert your eyes when the water flicks over your feet, slowly dropping your shoes to the side. When you look back, he’s gotten closer yet, and is reaching out his hand towards the edge of the water, towards you. Despite your hesitation, and slight disgust— scaly and seemingly frost bitten pale lips, and unnatural greenish marks along his neck that flare out and in— there’s something that makes you want to follow.

A call, or instinct, to glide into the water and feel it embrace you. “You want come in?” he prompts, softly, and you do. You aren’t much of a swimmer even in high summer, and yet. You find yourself closing the distance and reaching out for his hand, letting your fingertips glide along as you get up to your knees into the water, and then get pulled along further step by unsure step. “Good, come.”

“Ah- it’s cold!” you squeak, but Makoto’s fingers wrap around your hand to support you even when you get almost up to your chest into the river, water crawling up your clothing and making your chest feel tight. “Sh- it's so cold.”

“Water not cold. You warm.” Only when he comes up in front of you do you truly notice how much bigger he is. His hands dwarf yours, and even though you’re higher up, his tail is curved aside to fit on the ground so he stares down at you— covering the sun from your view. He towers over any man you’ve ever seen, and his human-esque top half is still much broader than most. Like a hard plane of muscle, marked with thousands of golden freckles that shift in color the longer you look.

Shivers climb up your legs, and the water seeps your energy out of you. Wrapping your free arm around yourself, you rub some heat into your skin. Those pale lashes flutter as he gives you a half lidded glance, and the freckles that also go across his cheeks color a little more amber. “Lady is … cute.” Large hands suddenly slide along your sides up, before dragging over your shoulders and slowly taking your clothing with it, removing one of a few layers as he leans in. “Here, better without.”

“Oh. No- I don’t- think-”

“Shhh. Better, I know,” he seems to get closer, even though you are too busy staring back into the darkness of his eyes to really notice; and let him untie the robes enough to toss it towards the water edge. Then he pauses, and gets up higher onto his coiled tail to pull another layer off and throw it. Until you’re left standing in only your flimsier linen undergarb, and you’re suddenly much too aware of how peaked your nipples are against the scratchy fabric. But his hands slide up along your thighs to start peeling that off too, when you grab for him and shake your head.

Makoto insists. “No cold when not -this.” His hands keep going up even with your pressure on them.

Having a night encounter with a man is one thing, but you don’t know how you’d ever explain this if someone saw. You can’t dart away in a flash and escape the consequences. You have to go home after this. “I need my clothes to go back—” you quickly beg, ignoring the soft pads of his fingers along your upper thighs, “and if people see- Makoto, please.” Your whole body aches with the cold, and though the touch feels nice, it doesn’t seem right. Your nakedness isn’t a simple thing, even if his is.

“Clothes heavy. Water don’t like clothes.” He turns you around and you lose your footing on the stable flooring, arms quickly clinging onto his wide shoulders for support— it does make his point. Your clothes are incredibly heavy soaked, and pull down on you as strong arms ever so slowly wrap around your waist; nose only a few inches from yours. You can’t help it, your face gets hot. Cheeks, ears, nose- everything starts getting a distracting warm glow that you do your best to ignore, pulling your lip between your teeth. Even so, he seems to look down at you with intrigue, water reflecting in the black of his eyes. “What?”

“You’re very close…” you confess, and also try to release some of the tightness of your embrace— but amusement only brings him closer. He tilts his head, before leaning in until your foreheads meet, and the cooler skin consumes you. “Makoto-sama-”

“Human kiss, hm?” He’s so close, and his mouth is right there -and though you have no clue why, you really want to. The thought is almost as real as the air you breathe, feeling his hands roam all over your body through the soaked linen. Your voice doesn’t make it out when you nod, but he still lifts you into his chest, and your fingertips dig into his shoulders instinctively. “Show me how to kiss? You little one -hmm- good- fit.” You can’t help it, in place of physical heat there’s a sort of aching fire that spreads through your limbs the longer you stay close— and once you start you can’t stop.

Your mouth meets his first, lips moving with yours as his arms squeeze tighter; but when your tongue brushes his lips and meets his, he makes a noise. A low sort of purring that rattles his chest, and has him leaning in harder, trying to bury you into his body as your tongues brush and you suck and moan. His taste is mild but his tongue is heavy, and much longer than yours when it slips further into your mouth. Much longer, bigger, and the wetness soon has you feeling like you can’t breathe.

You pull back with a gasp, staring at the way his long tongue brushes along those sharp teeth before he leans in more. “Again.” You try to make some separation between your two bodies, but clearly Makoto doesn’t care for it when he clamps his hand down around your hip and kisses you more, melting to you as his tongue brushes against yours. He kisses like you’re the first and last thing he’s tasted, even when you moan a little whimper at the lack of air. His cold skin prickles against yours, grinding his waist against you slowly as your head pounds. Still, it feels good.

You don’t ever want to leave— and it’s this exact feeling that has you pulling back for air. You must be out of your mind. He stares with a blown out sort of hunger when you say his name again, and run your fingers along his shoulders up a little. “I’m going to get in trouble if someone finds me here- and- it’s not like we can—” Your cheeks get even hotter when you try to say the words, not even sure if he’d understand. Does a yokai’s understanding include human nighttimes? When he shows no intention of putting you down, you bury your face into his chest, feeling even smaller than before.

Though his skin is cold to the touch, there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two, almost impossible to ignore— and the way you’re positioned against him, large arms caging you against his waist that pushes into you— doesn’t help anything. You can feel yourself get more slick each time you move your legs. He seems to chuckle when you groan- and as if sensing your train of thought, he rubs his nose along your ear and down the sensitive of your neck with a lower voice. “I want see. Human body so little. Want see it.”

That’s the tipping point. Every fiber in your being aches to obey, to let yourself get touched, seen, taken by him— and your mouth drops open a sliver as you struggle to find words. Your feet can’t reach the bottom here, and Makoto seems content to keep rubbing against you in a slow sea-saw motion that makes your center feel entirely hot. And eventually you crack. Blinking up at him, you breathe a faint “okay”, and let him turn you around. His hands are quick in their exploration, sliding under the last layer up your thighs, squeezing every few inches as he goes up. When he gets to your center, there’s a little flutter of his eyes, before those digits slide in and brush over your pussy, rubbing just soft enough to leave you wanting. “Warm,” he breathes, and then pulls you a little closer. “You do me too.”

As he pushes your last layer of clothing open fully and starts sliding it off your shoulders, you allow yourself just a little curiosity. He’s handsome, and he’s close, and you just feel so needy. Your breathing is still short against his chest, but your numb fingers glide down his sides with purpose as the muscles flex under your touch. His chest rumbles when you whine at the prodding and circling of his fingers around your dripping pussy, and you glide your hands down to his tail. The touch feels a little coarse, but he’s warmer there, and when you rub your palm over the area he’d been grinding into your waist, your fingers feel a softer, spongey slit. Makoto hisses when you rub a finger up and down, and you feel more heat burn onto your face. “Here?”

The question is answered when your finger slips in and is all hot, and something bumps you. But he picks you up and with one swift dash, lays you down on the river bank to get up between your legs. You need to open wide to allow him to fit, and can only whine out his name when the weight of his body over yours pushes you into the cold stones. He licks the air a few times, before grunting. You wish you could do anything other than just flush and look away when his hands descend onto your tits and start touching and rubbing, and the pressure leaves you all exposed. But it doesn’t take long for his attention to shift back to between your legs, and now with a better angle, he sinks down to nose below your navel. “Hmn-”

The purring is paired with a flaring of the gashes on his neck, and his eyes roll back. When his hands spread your legs up as wide as you can go, he nuzzles into you, and that long black tongue peeks out to lick slowly. You can’t help it, you moan. Loudly. It feels like a million pinpricks are traveling your body, as the very long, heavy tongue drags a long strip up your center, and then the tip of it laps at the wetness coating your hole— that quickly gets pushed open further with each sloppy lick. His tongue pushes inside you as he sucks and the feeling of something so hot and so- squirmy makes you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s too strange, but you can’t pull back.

Your hands even reach for his head to tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, your back curling from the floor. You’re drenched- no longer just water as your pussy clenches around his tongue that he forces in to lick places you’ve never been licked. Makoto wraps an arm around your thigh to pull it over his shoulder when you curl and wiggle against him- you can’t help it, it feels so good. Everything’s so sensitive, like your entire body’s been doused into hot water and you’re drowning— only difference is, you’re actively longing for more.

It’s better than any drink-induced daze, late night tussle with a stable boy. It’s even better than your own touch and mind, because he’s just so big and you’re so full, so hot. Your hips grind against his face when he sucks again, and his nose brushes your most sensitive area— and try not to let the water into your mouth when you yerk again. “Ah, ahg, Makoto-sama. I can’t- I can’t handle this much, please. Oh dear gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Ah-ughhh, f- ah, please -keep going.”

Your lower belly is wound so tight, and even the sound of his breathing against you feels good. You could melt into the floor with how much slick is coating your insides, dripping out of you around the suction on your cunt. And Makoto doesn’t have any intention of moving. Your mind aches— you want more. You want to wrap your entire body around him and come apart— as his large hands squeeze your thighs tight and wrap them around his head like he can’t get deep enough.

The sloppy, wet sounds of his face burying between your legs to stuff you full of tongue, licking and sucking at your sensitive pussy. It has your muscles so tight as you roll your hips against him, and you can’t stop shaking. “Oh, I’m g-gonna cum— I can’t! I can’t. It feels so- gud. Ah, ahh. What is happening?” When your fingers clench in his hair, he lets out a long, animalistic groan as he glances back up. Still his tongue isn’t fully inside you. “I can’t- Makoto, I can’t!” Even though he’s reaching further than fingers can, he’s still able to fold the deft black muscle over your clit and slot his lips around it to suck. Hard.

And your body can’t handle any more. While his heartbeat pulses through his tongue against your clit, everything goes white, your muscles clenching so hard it hurts. And your heart beats so hard it feels like it stops altogether. If you make any noise at all, you can’t hear yourself over the pounding in your head, rattling your body so hard that nothing except you and him exist. Your eyes are shut until you’re aware of how he grunts against you and pinpricks get too unbearable. But he doesn’t stop, lifting your body to his face and allowing you to ride out your orgasm against him for what feels like forever.

When you feel like you can hear yourself breathe again, you unwrap your legs from around his head. “I thought my heart was going to explode. If Hitsu knew…”

Your eyes are teary when they flutter open against the light, and the black abysses that stare back are barely narrowed slits. Dipping his gills into water briefly before getting up above you again, Makoto seems different. There’s something predatory that wasn’t there before. You can’t help but go quiet. As his hands drag your body down a few inches, you swallow. “Are you okay? Sorry. I feel like I should thank you— I haven’t come that hard, ever. I don’t know about yokai but I don’t think I could feel that good.” His muscular body covers most of the river from your view, but you find it almost too hard to look at him. You’re still hot; but your skin feels cold.

His fingers slide down along your side when he lets out a little groan. “Yokai don’t do this.” Then he goes to brush his face and mouth along your throat, and you shiver a little at the feeling. “So pretty. Warm. I like warm. Stay with me?” You let him grind himself on top of you and embrace him the best you can, only fitting around the narrow of his waist, but after just a second you yerk up. Makoto pulls his head back when he notices, and you get another brush against your slit that makes a cold shiver run up your spine. Where the slit sat before, a dick has emerged- and your mouth drops open a little. The thing is vaguely dick shaped, but has spurs at the base like an anchor, is more pointed at the tip; and it also pulses with each breath.

“Pretty warm body, good. Smell good too.”

You can’t help but swear when you avert your eyes, and instead wrap your arms back around his neck. “Oh, fuck.” Surely, this is where you’d draw the line. Right? But the touching of that against you doesn’t make your body react the way you think it should. The prodding along your inner thighs just leaves you feeling empty, like you’d like to start all over again. Makoto grunts out a little breath when your tits brush his chest, before staring down at you.

After a few seconds of studying your face, and probably the heat that’s flooding your features, he licks his lips. “Human men have… hm-”

“Yes,” you quickly say. He smacks his lips and grinds against you again. “They uhm- put it inside.” If the answer shocks him, he certainly doesn’t show it— looking like he’s barely holding back from crashing his face back to yours and turning you over to fuck you like the begging whore you feel like. The longer he just keeps his solid body against yours, the harder it is to ignore yourself getting wet again against the pulsing of his cock. The purring, clicking noise coming from him feels nice, and you pull at him. “You’re not done yet, right? I can do more.”

You angle your hips a little, and try not to sound so desperate when looking up at him for a kiss. “Please- put it inside me. I- I want to feel you.” Your hands slide over the rougher scales down between you two to reach for him, and hesitate a little when his cock is heavy and covered in some sort of slime; and it seems to follow your touch. But you’re too far past embarrassment to truly care, and Makoto groans when you wrap your fingers around him to squeeze softly. “I need you.” You really don’t know what’s wrong with you. You feel like your body’s being torn apart. You want to be filled, fucked full of him, and get pumped round of his kids— all things that you shouldn’t be thinking about. You didn’t with any men you’ve been with. You can’t.

Even though you know you’re being ludicrous, when he goes in for a kiss, you cling onto him hard; digging your nails into his back. You don’t even know if he could fit. His cock is proportionate to him- but it’s big and long and girthy enough to put any man to shame. You should care. You should care that you could regret being filled up to your breaking point, but you’re just so, so desperate. You might die if he doesn’t fuck you. You can feel it. “Please, please, please—”

—You slide a few feet across the floor, angry thrashing scaring you up into a flounder as you breathe in deeply. Makoto’s dragged off of you and down before you can even blink, water splashing everywhere; and you struggle back to the riverbank with wide eyes. Now you’re no longer side by side with another person- no, creature- you suddenly feel the entire ache of the cold water. The shortness of breath, the numbness of your lips and hands and feet. You feel the painful sting of your back where you’ve been sliced by a dozen sharp rocks, struggling to keep your head above water. And you feel the soreness between your legs of having been filled by something too big.

When you get over the pure shock, you notice the struggling has stopped, and you notice your creature’s golden shape next to someone else. They glitter and glint even in the low light of the afternoon, and you furrow your brows. The second shape only gets clearer when the light shines through the water and colors the flickers a blinding maroon. Your tongue feels cold.

Your arms wrap over your chest and cover up the best you can when Makoto surfaces again and gives you a kind smile, but you take a slight step back. His long, pale lashes flutter when he reaches out a hand. “Sorry. Rin don’t want to bleed you.” Your back and your painful scrapes are the lesser of your worries though. Whatever spell you were under, you’ve been snapped out of. You feel entirely strange- enough to have hot tears welling up along your waterline. What the hell have you been dragged into? You were going to… do things with some monster you didn’t know existed until today. Your brain screams and pounds, and your stomach is entirely flipped. But the brunet softly continues. “He don’t like I take you. Can you come here?”

“No.” Your hair now sticks to your neck and chest, and every second you’re out of the water, is one where the feeling comes back to your limbs. Your arms are so heavy as you keep them up. “There’s more of you?” You don’t know what you expected, really. Maybe you should have known. Maybe you should have questioned. But how could you have truly known?

“Yes.” he answers after a beat, and swims up a little closer with a frightening ease. “Shhh, okay. He will come. You stay.” You try to tell him not to, but he dips below the water surface before you get the chance to ask him not to, splashing water all over as he does— and you don’t know what else to do but to stare at the small bubbles that pop as peach blossoms wash over your feet. Before too long, the reddish shape surfaces alongside Makoto. He lingers in the deep of the river however; fiery eyes zeroing in on you without blinking at all. He stays submerged from the nose down, and you can’t help but feel too watched.

Your heartbeat doesn’t calm when the brunet swims up closer, and you take a little breath. “Who’s that?”

“Rin,” Makoto softly, sweetly answers, as if he was expecting the question all along. He smiles wide like a saint, and you have to ignore the voice in the back of your head that tells you to get back in the water. His hand reaches out though, and you almost want to. Almost. Your arms and back break out in goosebumps. Then Makoto looks back at the other yokai, and gives you a smiley once-over. It takes you a little too long to recognize something else that plays over his features though. A strange sort of knowing, like he’s seeing right through you. “You Rin’s mate.”

You don’t know why you don’t get up and run.

“Come back in?”

Only that the voice in the back of your head gets more unbearable. You wrap your hands over your ears, and try to hang on.

#makoto x reader #free x reader #free! makoto #free! smut #makoto smut #tw.dubcon #tw.monsterfucking #tw.size kink #tw.yandere #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.makoto

1K notes · View notes

weenwrites · 6 months

Note

Hey hey Ween! I wanted to ask about you writing something for bots reaction to a human who is new to the team and trying to get too make friends and make conversation with the bots? But they have poor memory and stiff/rough social skills so they may fidget when speaking and too remember their names they have a paper that they carry around w/ all the bots names written in said bots corresponding color scheme (doesn't have to be this I just thought it would be a cool idea 😊). Also tries to offer help in any numbers of ways. Uhh I don't really have any particular bots in mind besides Wheeljack and while I do enjoy scenarios I'm just as cool with headcannons if that ends up working for you and/or inspiring you more🤝🫂. Feel free to add any other bots if ya want👌! (Also it's still Friday where I am as I send this in I don't want ya to think I'm ignoring your post.)

"What was your name, again?"

Summary - How are you supposed to remember all these weird names? Characters - Wheeljack Content - Crack, Gen Category - Scenarios Trigger Warnings - None

✎ A/N: Sorry it took a LONG while! And also what I meant back then was that the request had to be sent in when it was Friday where I was. I can't remember whether you sent it in while it was still Friday my time or not, but eh I'll do it anyway. And I'm sorry if it's a bit short, but I didn't really want to specify anything in the end to try and be more 'immersive'.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

"Don't forget Bulkhead and Bumblebee!"

"Yes, yes... I've got them down," Y/N mumbles.

They don't bat an eye at the shadow that looms over their shoulder and onto the table, because it's far more important to concentrate on remembering all the names that Miko had mentioned to them. Their colored pencil in their hand glided across the paper with ease, of course occasionally stopping to switch colors.

"Hatche—wait no, it's Ratchet... And... Who was the other one you said, Miko?" Y/N asked, looking up from their paper, "The uh... The one that started with—oh! Wait! Uh, Spokelean!"

"Smokescreen." She corrected with a giggle, placing particular emphasis on the 'screen' part to his name, "So you're done with writing down all their names?"

"Yeah, just about..." They mumbled, brushing some eraser shavings aside and reaching over for their pencil to correct their mistakes.

But they felt nothing but empty space where the correct colored pencil used to lay, and after a quick look around, they had found the escapee-pencil laying underneath the table. With a sigh, they had stooped down onto all fours and scooched underneath the table, reaching out to fetch it when all of a sudden, the heavy thumping of metal footsteps shook the ground.

With a startled yelp, they shot up and the back of their head met the underside of the hard, wooden table. Through gritted teeth and a set frown, they retrieved the pencil and slowly stood back upright, rubbing the back of their head as they looked up to see who had walked in, but they were met with an unfamiliar face.

A white bot sporting red and green streaks on his chest, and a pair of gray... For lack of a better word, finials, on the sides of his head, and a large crest on top. Aside from the fact his paint-job bore a striking resemblance to the flag of Italy, another notable feature of his was the pair of twin swords sheathed on his back.

"Wait... Who's that, again?" Y/N's face scrunched into confusion as they further scrutinized him.

"Oh, hey Wheeljack!" Miko hollered.

And at the girl's beck and call, the bot shoots her a grin upon sight, and he closes the distance between them in mere seconds.

"Hey kid!" He pauses and shoots Y/N a glance, "oh, and who's this?"

"Oh uh, my name's Y/N, and you must beeee..." Their voice tapers off for what almost feels like eternity, and they scramble their mind for a clue—any clue as to what his name was. Miko had literally mentioned his name mere seconds ago, yet now of all times, their brain decided to blank. "Uhh... Your name was..."

"Wheeljack." He finishes.

"Ye-yeah! Wheeljack! Wheeljack. How are you? It's nice to meet you."

"Never better, Bulk and I just got back from patrol."

"Ooh! Did you find anything while you were out?" Miko grinned.

"If by 'anything' you mean 'decepticons', then 'fraid not. We thought we picked up one of the cons' energon mines so we tracked it down."

Miko sprung forward on the couch, "Was it a trap?"

"Nah, it was just an old crater, the cons had sucked it dry and left a long time ago."

Y/N frowns, "did anything good come of it at least?"

"Nothin that I can see, but it is what it is," he shrugs, "Anyway, you're the newcomer, eh?"

"Yes! That would be me."

For a hot second no one said a word. Wheeljack looked to them expectantly, thinking they'd run him through the whole story, not lead him straight to some rather awkward silence. And once Y/N caught the gist of the conversation, they simply pressed their lips shut even harder.

Would it be too awkward to continue now? No one's said anything for some time now, so maybe they shouldn't continue? But if they change the subject now, it might seem like they weren't really listening to him, so maybe they should—

"Soo, Y/N, why don't you tell Wheeljack about how you got here?" Miko spoke up—thankfully being the one to break the ice, "How you met the team and that kind of stuff."

"Right! Right, I should probably do that..." They chuckled, "alright so... it all started like this..."

#tfp imagines #tfp scenarios #tfp x reader #tfp wheeljack #wheeljack x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

57 notes · View notes

moonlit-positivity · 6 days

Text

Growing up in abuse means that there is no one to teach you things that everyone else got to learn as a kid. There is no Trusted Adult Figure to hold on to for your basic wisdom and guidance that normal kids get to have. Instead, we have to learn these things by process of awareness, meaning at some point in your life you're gonna run into lots of things from society, social media, and your peers, that you had absolutely no clue about until that singular moment in time when they tell you about it. And there can be a lot of shame attached to those kinds of revelations, because sometimes you truly genuinely didn't know before hand. Not only that, but a lot of abusive, manipulative behaviors are all too often normalized in abusive homes which makes it all too common to adapt those same behaviors and tactics, and its not always out of malice but rather the ignorance and lack of emotional guidance from our childhoods. Sometimes the only way we find out that's not supposed to be the norm is by simply making these mistakes ourselves and having a very rude awakening hit when we do. And this is gonna be some of the hardest, gut wrenching realizations out there, like a double edged sword in a way, because not only do you feel shameful for repeating the patterns, but there comes a time when you finally understand that the behavior is abusive because it's the same shit they put you through as a kid and you were just too busy focused on survival for most of your life to really process and understand that until the mistakes are already made.

So please be kind to yourself when these moments hit. There can be a lot of shame involved in growing and healing from abuse. There can be a lot of ignorance we inherit from our parents generational trauma. But please remember that there is a fundamental difference between you and what made you, and that is the fact that you are doing everything in your power to call it out and change it. And that makes the world of difference considering your abusers would never even attempt that in a million years. Please know you're walking a path that not many people in this world would even dare attempt. And that makes you ten thousand times stronger than the bullshit you've had to carry all by yourself for this long. You're allowed to be nice and kind to yourself while you figure it out. You're allowed to heal even when you make the same mistakes your parents did. Those moments do not define who you truly are. Please take care of yourselves 🌸

16 notes · View notes

nanjokei · 6 months

Text

i wrote some quick oc profiles yesterday in my notes app ill just share them unedited under the cut ^.^

important context is that the characters were in cryostasis for 96 years (were only supposed to be in it for 25 but lol) so its set in 2107

i want to write more later...

1. ALPHA

REAL NAME: Clarine ■■■■■■

AGE: 20

DOB: 05/18/1991

GENDER: F

HEIGHT:

UNIT: Bedrock

WEAPON: Dual-wielding sword and dagger (think Nanami from Utena)

MENTAL: S | PHYSICAL: S | TACTICS: B | HANDLING: A | PERCISION: S

OVERALL RANKING: 2

A young woman carried by the tides of life.

Her motto might as well be "Sure, I'll do it."

Alpha is hardly apathetic, but she is malleable to a fatal degree, as if she has little care for her own well being, as long as the next day comes. This is beneficial, so do not hesitate to make use of her whenever feasible.

There is not much to note about her personality aside from her apparent and distinct lack of any. She also shows disinterest in befriending the other pilots beyond being jovial acquaintances with them, lowering any risk of unnecessary attachments. She is quite friendly, but is quick to excuse herself from any social activity. Really, it is as if this woman could disappear at any moment, but she is also a permanent bedrock for the team. She chose the name of her unit quite aptly.

For this reason, even aside from her high aptitude, she is by far the most reliable pilot and there are no troubles with deploying her whatsoever. She will be ready at any time which is unfortunately rare among the squad.

She works well with others, and is shown to have compatibility with Kappa in particular, as they have similar aggressive tendencies in battle. However, unlike Kappa, her fighting style is incredibly plain and she injects no unnecessary individuality into her work. Overall, she can be paired up with anyone. She adapts to their style and proclivities as needed.

Make no mistake, despite her plainness, she is remarkably talented with no apparent drawbacks.

2. KAPPA

REAL NAME: Daniel ■■■■■

AGE: 23

DOB: 11/11/1988

GENDER: M

HEIGHT:

UNIT: Longinus (later Longinus - JꙨKER.. lmao)

WEAPON: Spear

MENTAL: B | PHYSICAL: S | TACTICS: A | HANDLING: S | PERCISION: B

OVERALL RANKING: 4

How do you solve a problem like Kappa?

He is well mannered and not difficult to deal with, but the biggest issue and his downfall is the delusions of grandeur he has about what kind of job this is.

To put it frankly, he is someone who is much too inundated with video games, movies and TV.

He calls out attack names, shows off and even spent days coming up with names for his unit.

On the flip side, he is enthusiastic and obedient, albeit rather reckless. As long as he is not sent out alone, this can be nipped in the bud easily.

For all these mostly positive qualities, he has a troublesome tendency to busybody and make unnecessary suggestions after every deployment. There's no use listening to his blabbering, so please ignore them, with special note to shut down his constant nagging and questions about the status of other pilots and units. Especially his constant harrassing of us about the status of the pilot Delta and the unit Polydeuces.

Unnecessary questions about such future matters are strictly forbidden.

He is a valuable asset despite everything, so treat him carefully, as he is surprisingly sensitive. His inflated sense of justice is not troublesome as it flaccid and carries a shocking lack of idealism. But still, he is an idealist by choice nonetheless.

It is clear he does not even believe his own bluff, which may explain his impacted MENTAL score.

3. SIGMA

REAL NAME: ■■■■■■■■■■■ (Redacted at request of pilot.)

AGE: 26

DOB: 03/09/1985

GENDER: X

HEIGHT:

UNIT: Trojan, also a possible Gemini system candidate

WEAPON: Double guns (similar to Uzi SMGs..?)

MENTAL: A | PHYSICAL: B | TACTICS: S | HANDLING: B| PERCISION: A~B

OVERALL RANKING: 6

Sigma, while a skilled pilot, is a special case and cannot be deployed freely.

Due to his medical background as a nurse, and our understaffed medical wing, he is to be stationed there for as long as necessary. He is also to monitor the vitals of pilots during deployment until we are able to train others to be able to do so as easily. Not only due to our lack of personnel, but also due to his outdated knowledge of medicine.

After all, the pilots possess risk of disease that have long been wiped out in our time— both figuratively and literally. Given such knowledge was foolishly purged from most medical textbooks, he may be the only one who could deal with diseases such as "influenza", for which we do not even possess vaccines for any longer.

They are logical and unbiased, but not cold in the slightest. Overall, has good relationships with all the other pilots. Perhaps this is to be expected from someone in that profession, but it is a positive trait, so it must be noted upon.

In simulations, Sigma was shown to be alert and adapt to any possible scenario thrown at him. In fact, he is even able to come up with solutions previously not accounted for that are much more efficient than the projected best case scenario. If there ever comes a day he must be deployed, we will witness something great.

However, it is of utmost importance to note that their actual piloting is only above average most of the time, so do not expect miraculous performance either.

4. DELTA

REAL NAME: Alex ■■■■■■

AGE: 24

DOB: 07/01/1987

GENDER: M

HEIGHT:

UNIT: Polydeuces (requires second pilot add-on and other currently unimplemented features)

WEAPON: Sniper rifle (can also be used in melee. somehow.)

MENTAL: S~? | PHYSICAL: F | TACTICS: S | HANDLING: S | PERCISION: S

OVERALL RANKING: 1

Delta is proof that you are not served victory in a silver platter.

To start, there are no two ways about it, he is terminally ill.

It seems that our predecessors were obscenely confident in our ability to find a cure for his still yet to be diagnosed illness. The future had other plans. While we have a combination of medications that keep him functional in our present day, it doesn't mean he is even remotely healthy. He is nowhere near even the suggestion of deployment. His observed medical ailments, as well as his old medical records, are compiled in a different confidential report with a clearance level of 5.

The worst part is that Delta begs to be deployed.

He thinks of doing nothing else.

Due to all this, he is deeply resentful of us and a poison to morale. He is increasingly impatient about the "when", and more and more unwilling to accept any kind of explanation for the perceived delay.

It is not good form to bring up personal ethics in such reports, but no part of this feels like it was handled with any kind of responsibility. Even to us, who would have to deal with the fallout.

It's not difficult to sympathize with his plight, and most pilots thankfully quickly grew numb to it, so there are less problems with them intermingling than expected. In fact he gets along with most pilots normally. It may be due to the fact that Sigma is the main person nursing him, but he is especially fond of them. Still, there are no shortcuts here.

In simulations, his performance is so perfect that the results were thought to have been doctored at first to justify the mistake of recruiting him. He was tested rigorously as a result, but not as much as our predecessors OR we in the present time would have liked, as even mere simulations exacerbated his health problems. So it goes without saying that in practice, at this moment even a stationary position such as sniping is out of the question (he is capable of other roles as well, not that his body would allow it). In recent simulations post-cryofreeze, his MENTAL parameter became unquantifiable. It has shockingly not impacted his other parameters.

It is critical to note that Delta is on the verge of quitting constantly. As we cannot afford to lose such an asset, you may be as lenient with him as needed. Just be careful not to accidentally extend such leniency to the others.

In addition to that, ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■... ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■.

5. RHO

REAL NAME: N■■■ ■■■■■■ (The pilot was very particular about this redaction.)

AGE: 18

DOB: 04/05/1993

GENDER: F

HEIGHT:

UNIT: Amaryllis, also a possible Gemini system candidate

WEAPON: Lasergun (handgun size)

MENTAL: B | PHYSICAL: A | TACTICS: D | HANDLING: B | PERCISION: C

OVERALL RANKING: 8

Rho is the youngest pilot in the roster, barely qualifying, as the program was forbidden from attempting to solicit and recruit minors.

Aside from how young she is, she is also selectively mute. For the most part, this is no issue for us, as she has been cooperative and had given us several alternative means of communicating with her, and she is even able to speak somewhat fluently to a few select pilots. Our concerns mainly lay with her performance related to this that may be a safety concern for both her and whoever may have to work with her, so we are currently reviewing all possibilities and solutions as well as performing more simulations before considering deployment.

As for her disposition, while surprisingly sociable and bubbly, she ultimately prefers to be alone. She is dutiful and attempts to project an air of maturity and responsibility... whether this is to avoid others as much as possible or simply to assuage any worries, no one knows yet. Due to her age, it is my own personal suggestion to keep monitoring her mental state. She is still quite immature.

In simulations, Rho has shown decent performance, hampered by mediocre reflexes and lack of experience. She is good at following instructions and can think for herself to some extent, however she shows little imagination when challenged by the unfamiliar and is thus prone to minor panic and impulsive decisions that make little sense. This flaw tends to bring simulation runs to a premature end, too many times to ensure a high enough rate of success to be of any use, but there is potential.

Simply put, to deploy her right now is to send her to an early grave.

She is quite skilled with bridge work and is happy to do it, and was able to adapt to current technology at a breakneck pace. She is also able to work with pilots in real time for the most part, showing a great amount of focus. Because of this, despite not being ready to be deployed, she makes herself incredibly useful.

#caren ocs

23 notes · View notes

waywardfaerie555 · 2 years

Text

How Can You Improve Your Love Life?

Pick a Card Reading

Card 1 Card 2 Card 3

Rules:

Choose the image which resonates more with you.

Please feel free to like, reblog and follow to keep up to date with new posts :) I also accept tips via my p*yp*I, link in bio, it's not required but greatly appreciated. I also offer personal tarot commissions, the post is pinned :)

Card One:

Princess of Wands Reversed

This card can indicate a period in your love life when you are unsure of what you’re looking for; without a clear direction, you may run into dead ends. You may need to spend more time deciding what it is you want in a partner instead of aimlessly searching for love. Should you be in a relationship, this card can signal a time of boredom and lack of momentum. You’ll need to put in some effort to bring some life back into your partnership. If you are single however, this could indicate that you are lacking commitment, the persons you are interested in may have wandering minds / attention or are just unreliable. Work on your ability to commit to your partner and give back to the relationship the way both of you need. Ensure to communicate your problems to your partner so that both of you can work out the kinks in the relationship.

Card Two:

Knight of Pentacles Reversed

You may feel stuck in your own routine, and bored of everything that surrounds you. You may desire a change of scenery in order to avoid this tiring repetition. The Knight of Pentacles reversed could also indicate that you have totally ignored many serious aspects of your life. You may be a driven and ambitious person who struggles to carry the weight of your responsibilities - so much so that you sacrifice your social life. Perhaps you can try taking more risks, or spend more time with friends and loved ones. The Knight of Pentacles reversed is a strong indication that you need to change this way of living, lest you risk burnout and exhaustion.

It may be that your love life is getting rather dull and stale lately. You may feel like a homebody that prefers to enjoy their time alone rather than take any emotional risks, and face possible rejection amongst others. If you’re in a relationship, you may feel a bit desperate for change. It may be that one of you spends so much time at work, or all their energy on practical, financial or career matters that they don’t prioritize the relationship. Make sure that the two of you carve out time in your busy lives to just be with one another, or try something spontaneous to bring a much needed breath of fresh air into your partnership.

Card Three:

The Three of Swords Reversed

The Three of Swords reversed indicates that they have faced a recent loss, a break-up or a moment of grief. You may be still recovering from this, and your emotions have not completely calmed, making it difficult to move on. Although you may still be thinking of your past suffering, this card may be a signal that it's time to let go and look forwards towards life ahead of you, because there is much for you to enjoy. Many don’t see this, and they end up being immersed in their own pain for too long, delaying their own recovery process. Don’t focus too much on what happened, renew your emotions and gather your courage. The reversed Three of Swords card is here to let you know that all difficult moments pass - they are not there to stay, and when we fall, we can also rise again.

With the reversed Three of Swords, lovers may find themselves settling their conflicts and forgiving one another. There is a desire here to heal, and move past old wounds, while looking forwards towards the future. For singles, this often means finally getting over past heartbreak, in order to be fully present in your dating life again. However, this card can also sometimes instead suggest the very opposite. Wounds may not be healing, but they may be repressed, so they fester and create resentment. Partners may not be able to forgive one another for past hurts. Sometimes, in these cases, it can be better for both to move on.

#divine feminine #spirituality #tarot deck #pac #pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pick a picture #free tarot readings #commission me #paid tarot readings #tarot commissions #witchblr #tarotblr

169 notes · View notes

nestasgalpal · 2 years

Text

Not even his Ch. 4 [Nessian smut]

Nesta’s Galpal Masterlist | A03

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tagging:@zoyaslai @champanheandluxxury @pataytayo @nessiantrashh @dustjacketmusings @saltydreamcollector @generalpeachyboots @generalnesta @simpingfornestaarcheron @arinbelle @a-court-of-valkyries @azrielsgirl @swoopingoccamy @vasudharaghavan @vidalinav @sv0430 @nessianforlife @claralady @sayosdreams @malluzia @dealfea @kylosmomm @torvifox

Chaos reigned in every hallway they walked through. The inside of the castle was a fuss of servants carrying even more candles to the gardens, silverware rattling inside big baskets as they transported to the dinning hall all the items needed for the banquet. Maidens run up and down the stairs, big lumps of fabric in their arms that could have been linens for the table, dresses for their ladies or even bedsheets that still hadn't been put in the guests' bedrooms for the night.

The mayhem in the service's hallways was so out of control, nobody had time to be curious as to why the General of the armies and the Captain of the city guard were pacing through them all the way to the Princess' wing of the castle.

If he forced himself to remember, Cassian was almost certain he had walked past the big door belonging to Nesta's chambers a few times during his years living in this castle. Back then when he had been just a boy accompanying his predecessor to the council meetings. Five years younger than him, Nesta had been barely a girl. More like a spoiled rotten child, or so the General used to say. A famously uptight Princess, proud and never bothered with anyone too unimportant to sit at her table.

There were two guards, one on each side of the wooden door.

"Rest", Azriel said. The men put their swords down almost with relief. "You may leave. The General and I will escort the Princess once she is ready. Go to the dining hall and make sure nobody except the designated staff comes in to make the needed arrangements. No one is to touch the chalices, ¿understand? And escort the maidens out once the tables are set." Azriel's voice was so steady and lacking any trace of emotion that nobody could have guessed he was making the orders up on the spot. His words seemed beyond question. "Not a soul is to go back inside once it is ready, and until you are told otherwise."

The men saluted. "Yes, sir".

With that, they left, leaving the Princess' door unguarded. "I don't like how easy that was." Cassian said. "Nesta should be guarded by people with half a brain, not puppets."

Azriel rolled his eyes. "Not now, Cass."

The Captain knocked on the door. Three taps, a long pause, then four, and then another two. Like a secret combination. Cassian glared at his friend discretely, a question in his eyes. When the redhead maiden opened the door, a grin tugged Casian's lips up in a half smile. Who is this?

Azriel only rolled his eyes again. Not now, Cass.

As if they had known each other forever and showing absolutely no respect for his rank, the maiden asked promptly. "What?"

"I need a favor." Cassian stood there, trying to read the answers to all the questions that popped in his head as his friend and this young woman ignored him entirely.

"Absolutely not. I don't have time to help you today. ¡We have a royal wedding about to happen and an unprepared bride to get dressed for it!"

She was wearing the garb of the Princess' maidens. Just knowing Nesta was on the other side of that door had Cassian's heart thundering in his chest.

"It's today or never. Ask the Princess." Az pointed at him. As always, his movements were fast and discreet, avoiding the attention of those servants still passing by.

That's when the redhead noticed Cassian for the first time. He was taller than Azriel, broader too, and standing right in front of her. How she could have been so uninterested in him, she simply didn't detect his presence, was beyond him. But he didn't have time to care about this girl now either.

"Please, let the Princess know I'm here. I'm General Cas..."

"I know who you are." She cut him half sentence. Her eyes examined him, up and down and with suspicion. "One moment." And with that, she disappeared behind the door, slamming it shut.

"Don't ask." Azriel warned Cassian before he had the chance to even think about it.

"I wasn't going to." He half-lied. He was absolutely going to question him later.

Not giving them time to go into a deeper conversation, the door was opened again. "Come inside. Quickly." She ordered, again, forgetting to show any respect for their positions above hers.

A room with a small table in the middle and probably thousands of books hiding the stone walls from the view greeted them. There were two more doors, but only one of them was open. Cassian got a glimpse of two sofas and a chimney hiding behind the wooden panel. The other one was opened right then, barely a crack wide enough to allow a second maiden to get out.

She did mark Cassian's presence immediately. More even, she studied him, and made no effort to conceal her scrutiny. She must have reached a verdict, because a "hmm" escaped her lips. Her hair was thick and black.

When she spoke, Cassian realized they had met before. She was younger than him, and after all these years her features had changed so much, Cassian hadn't noticed at first. But she came from the same village he and Azriel did. She had been the girl in the caravan... Emerie. But hadn't she...?

"You have half an hour." Emerie said, almost in a hurry. "And I want her dressed when we come back." It came out as a threat, somehow.

Taking an hourglass from one of the bookshelves, she turned it and put it over the table, starting the countdown right on that moment. By his side, Gwyn took Azriel's arm, and he let her steer him, Emerie following right behind, to the room with the sofas.

This time, Cassian got a full view of the space. And of the chimney, as the three figures neared it. One of the candlesticks was pulled, and next thing he knew, the three of them had disappeared behind it, swallowed into a passageway.

Not having it in him to care about that right now, Cassian then turned his attention towards the still closed door, knowing with every fiber of his body that Nesta was behind it. He looked back to the entrance of the Princess's chambers, now unguarded from outside. There was a tension in the air, that emanated from the knowledge of how illicit what they were doing was. How wrong and dangerous, in case they got caught.

But most importantly, Cassian felt the sensation of something pulling him toward Nesta as if it was almost a physical thing. Like a string tugging from him to approach. Urging him.

He could hear that damned metallic clinc as she walked towards the same door from the other side.

Hypnotized by the sound that still haunted him and sparked a small fire inside his chest in equal parts, for it meant Nesta was there, Cassian's feet moved with a will of their own. His hand touched the knob, almost scared. Twisted, and pushed.

And there she was.

Glorious, the afternoon sun illuminating her from behind, Nesta Archeron was at the verge of tears and within arm's reach. Cassian halted, starstruck, certain he must drop an anchor so time couldn't move onwards.

Nesta, as he became paralyzed, took the lead and shortened the distance, jumping into his arms.

"Cassian."

Instead of satiating his needs, the touch whet his appetite for her.

He took Nesta into his embrace, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight against him.

"Nes" He whispered. "We don't have much time."

"I didn't know if you would come." Her words were muffled by the fabric of his cape hanging from his shoulder, where her head was nestled. "I've been waiting for you."

The extent of how different their lives were had never truly sunk in until recently for him. She was the Princess, the future Queen. He was beneath her, yet had so much more freedom, he could have stormed into her chambers at whatever time today, whilst Nesta hadn't been allowed to move from them.

So much, yet so little power.

He had been an idiot. He definitely felt like one, seeing who's life was really in shackles. Even now, just by being here together, she was risking so much more.

Nesta let go of him and walked towards the vanity next to the window. The General took the opportunity to look around and see her berdoom. It was huge and beautifully decorated.

"I came to say goodbye. This time forever."

From afar, she nodded, her face serious and determined. Which hurt, but also made him proud. Her voice was soft when she spoke. As if she feared Cassian would break down if she was only a pinch sharp.

He may.

"Once I'm married, I won't be unfaithful to him. I can't."

Cassian already knew that. Nesta had never said the words, but he had always known. Morals, duty, expectations. All the unbending rules that had shaped her growing up were engraved too deeply inside the Princess for her to ever treason them. Not even for herself would she betray what in her eyes were the canons of life itself.

This was it was him chortening the distance and putting a loose hair behind her ear.

"I won't ask that of you. Ever." He leaned in. Nesta cupped his face with both hands, and Cassian closed his eyes at the touch. She didn't, though. The General could feel her icy pupils fixed on him. She was thinking, although both knew there was no way out of this. "Would it make it any easier if I went away?" He asked.

There were options in that sense. He was supposed to stay here to help the kingdom transition into a new period of peace, help all the men and women who had been recruited go back to what their lives had been before every pair of hands was required to join his army.

But after tracing the plan with the council, he needn't stay. He could go back to Kyrlan Fort, and make things happen from there. Cassian had a chance to leave this place behind, and even if he right now hated the idea, he also knew about the power of distance. And he would rather help Nesta than indulge himself, so the call was hers entirely.

If Nesta needed him to disappear, he could. Easily.

Opening his eyes to meet hers, Cassian waited for her answer. She was smiling faintly.

"That won't do." She said. Her fingers caressed his face. "I like to think there is too much of me in you, and too much of you in me, that no amount of distance that we put between us will ever make us vanish from each other's mind. I know it is like that for me, at least. You could travel to the end of the world, Cassian, you could vanish for a thousand years, and I still wouldn't stop loving you with every bone in my body."

Cassian silenced her with a kiss. He ended the conversation, for it was not needed. He knew where her feelings were, and she knew about his. They didn't have to waste more time with the talking. Nesta put her arms up and around his neck, pulling him closer, as if it was even possible.

Into that kiss, they channeled all their worries, and used them to fan the flames of their lust.

His hands quickly found their way to her dress, dragging the silky fabric up and over her head. Under that, she was wearing the most tantalizing lingerie he had ever seen. Truth be told, Cassian hadn't seen much, but the look of the bodice and bottoms, the garter belt... Nesta was exquisite.

Nesta copied him and reached for his belt.

"No." He stopped her hand and brushed it with his thumb in reassuring circles. "Let me do this for you."

She pouted, "I want you."

He believed her.

"You've got me, Nes." Cassian planted a path of kisses on her stomach as he kneeled, then looked up at her and squeezed her hand. "I will be yours forever. Even when you don't want me anymore, I will still belong to you."

His lips travelled all the way from her navel to the hem of her underclothes. It was followed by a series of sighs coming from her. Cassian let go of her hand and gripped instead her hip to steady her body in front of him. His teeth bit down on the fabric and tugged.

Cassian's breath brushed her cold skin and made her burn with desire. His grunt reached her ears, exciting her further. With his mouth, he pulled the piece of clothing down. When it hit the floor, Cassian still didn't use his hands. Instead, his mouth went straight for her core, tongue flat against her sensitive skin as he parted her folds with it and delighted himself in her sweetness.

Only that and nothing else in the world could satisfy his seething desire of Nesta.

From the floor, Cassian took the discarded piece of clothing, and looking up straight into her eyes, he showed her his hand. When Nesta realized what he was holding, her eyes widened. He put the underwear into his back pocket.

"I'm keeping this."

"Let me kiss you." She pleaded, out of breath.

But there was no time for that. Grain after grain, the sand fell, making the passage of their last encounter.

Cassian stroked her with his tongue to get it where he really wanted it. Almost roughly, he used both hands to push her thighs apart and place them over his shoulders.

"Ohh" Her excitement matched the surprise in her whimper. Her ass came to rest on top of the vanity, and her elbows on the wood as she leaned back had to help her stabilize herself.

Each stroke of Cassian's tongue shook her to the core. He licked and suck until Nesta was nothing but a quivering mess. The only reason she didn't fall when her legs started to tremble due to his ministrations was Cassian's hand back on her hips holding her in place -in place for him to devour.

Cassian didn't know if her moans of pleasure were loud enough to be heard outside the room, but they pierced his ears, demanding his full attention. As his tongue drew circles around her most sensitive spot, right on the apex of her legs, he truly felt so lost in the pleasure he believed the moment would last forever if only he refused to part with her.

She dug her nails on his fabric-clad shoulder, desperate to grip something. Anything. Nesta's thighs clenched at the sides of Cassian's head as she neared her climax. Her throat was sore, her voice breathy, when she screamed his name, and the world stopped spinning for them.

Only when Nesta fully climbed down of her orgasm did Cassian prie himself out from between her thighs. He was panting too, his cock hard as ever, his heart pounding.

The room still swirled around them. Both were exhausted but also genuinely happy. Still catching her breath, Nesta couldn't erase the wide smile on her lips, and neither did him. Cassian planted small kisses on the inside of her thighs, delicately letting go of her legs.

"I love you" She murmured.

Coming here had been the right decision and worth the risk just for those words. If they were to part ways, this is how their final time together ought to be: with both of them smiling like puppies, too full of lust for each other to move, and giving their hearts the chance to speak. Both of them.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He winked. "Now let's get you dressed."

The royal orchestra started playing, and this time the familiar sound of the wedding march didn't sting as badly. The groom's entrance came first. The young Lord walked down the isle in a perfectly tailored set of pants and doublet with his family's coat of arms embroidered over his heart.

Cassian had never seen Lord Balthazar before, for the man or his family had never been part of the war council... or the Crown's council, at that. Until not so long ago, this man had been an unfamiliar name, barely mentioned by anyone.

Standing in the first line of seats as he finally made it to the altar, Cassian found comfort in realizing this was the most unremarkable man he could have imagined. Balthazar was tall, but not as much as the General. His build was broad enough that you could refer to him as a fit man, but nothing more. His muscles were for show, since he would never need to use them. He was good-looking, sure. Cassian could give him that. But he would never be describes as handsome by anyone, not even by the eldest ladies in his grandmother's inner circle, now that he would finally be wed. No-one to convince of their protegee's good qualities by slightly exaggerating them.

There was absolutely nothing interesting or important to know about Lord Balthazar, beyond the fact that he could fill every room in this castle with gold and jewels.

With some delay, the sting of jealousy finally pinched his heart. The young Lord was absolutely unremarkable, yet he was the one standing on the altar, waiting for Nesta to arrive.

And when she did, she looked stunning. The rays of sunshine as the golden hour hit stole gilded highlights from her hair and made the crystals in the dress shimmer like stars. The entire crowd let out marveled expressions, a chance Cassian took to do so himself. He sighed at the view of her. She deserved nothing less than the entire city worshiping her.

He followed her figure as she joined her soon-to-be husband up there in the platform. Her family was on her side of the altar, standing now behind her so they didn't block de view to the hundreds of spectators. The Queen and King were the closest to their daughter, then the two princesess, and finally, next to the youngest, the Queen's pupil, Rhysand, who Cassian knew well. They were all in awe.

"She will be a phenomenal Queen." He told Azriel under his breath. His friend agreed with a faint movement of his head.

Next to the princess, he realized a second too late, the Queen was looking at Cassian right in the eye, as if warning him not to make anything he would later regret. But Cassian wouldn't have been himself if he hadn't been just a little bit stupid.

Discretely enough that only the Queen, her eyes already fixed on him, would notice, Cassian put the back of his hand to his lips, and wiped his mouth.

A glimpse of horror shone in her pale blue eyes, mixed with the last rays of sunshine as the sun finally set, and illuminated by thousands of candles, the ceremony began.

#nessian #nessian fic #nessian fanfic #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #nesta #nesta acotar #cassian #cassian acotar #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta

71 notes · View notes

theeyoungalabastor · 1 year

Note

Hello author, could you make movie Lloyd garmadon with female reader (she is about 16 years old) who is a dragon leader, she resembles like a mix of Hiccup and Valka from httyd, she also has a fire sword, dragon armor and staff, she is kind and compassionate to dragons, can tame and earn the trust of any dragon, she has 3 main dragons: Stormcutter, Triple Strike, Song of Death and the baby Deathgripper she recently rescued (She carries him in a special compartment in her armor that looks like a mama kangaroo bag. Like the fishlegs in part 3 httyd) , she travels with her dragons looking for a suitable place to stay safe from dragon hunters. She is neutral towards the Lloyd and the others, but over time she has become friends with them. All the dragons obey her, so when a screaming death attacks the city , she calmly talks to the dragon and tames it . She takes Lloyd with her on missions to free dragons from hunters , but her dragons are not friendly to Lloyd (they don't trust him, but after Lloyd saves y/n from a hunter's weapon, he deserves their trust and respect, but the baby deathgripper does not give up trying to burn his clothes with acid ), but are friendly to the others.Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language One shot, if not difficult .

Hello lovely Annon! I am honored to have been granted such a request! I wasn't sure if you wanted it to be platonic or romantic, so I went the safe route and chose platonic!

I also decided to add a few other httyd things in here!

And please, just all me Alabastor!

Lloyd Garmadon + Fem!reader Dragon leader! insert: The Cunning Tongue of a Leviathan

Status: Platonic,

Warnings: Blood, Violence, foul language, Death on dragons, possesoion

Writing style: Story

Where does this take place?: Steep Wisdom (Makes an appearance in the possession ARC.)

Pronouns used: She/ Her

Word count: 4,709 (4K)

Page count: 13.9

A/N: I am very bad when it comes to battle scenes, I've been trying to improve on it, but I apologize for the lack of descriptiveness with it. Also, the end was a bit rushed because I honestly wanted to get done with this as fast as possible seeing as this was requested around the beginning of last month, but again, I apologize. Motivation is quite difficult to come across with school and work!

_______________________

Pallid clouds scatted the dismal sky, sweeping over the weaning moon; every once in a while, a glittering star would poke its twinkling head out to greet the knackered ninja clad in green.

It took quite the restraint not to snuggle into the heat of his Gi, for a chill wafted over the mountain's higher peeks, sending chills sprinting up his aching spine, a fruitless attempt to escape the draughts glacial-feather-like touch.

He had been a fool not to heed his sensei's words that spilled some- now- much needed information. He had been a moron when he ignored Kai's passive words of wisdom- just like their Sensei's plea, to take some warmer clothes or maybe something to keep his shivering framework from trembling like a leaf in a parched desert storm.

Even when the sun finally opts to peer from behind the quilt of ashen nebulae that sprinkled the blonde in colorless glitter; it was still as frigid as the hours that followed.

he really was a fool.

His narrowed eyes turned to the thinned foliage; a number of trees stretched, baren limbs extending, fingers grasping vainly towards the cloud clad sky that progressed to plunge into darkness; maybe if they were finally blessed with the feeding of vitamin D they would prosper, prolong the inevitable? Or maybe even sprout and bloom anew, make the frost glossed blades of grass that had browned, wilting under the Siberian calefactions.

With another lick across his exposed flesh his mind jolted, settling with bunkering down and setting up camp for the night, if he were to progress any further, he would surely meet his demise within the cruel hands of Mr. Snowmizer.

So that's what he did, arms teeming with kindling and frost blanketed timber that was soon to melt within the flames of a ravenous campfire that had been conflagrated by the spark of a flint and steel. (Seeing as no one dared trust the chaotic blonde with a lighter) And now he sat atop the frozen ground, parched dirt soiling the vibrance of his jade Gi.

His feet harped at the release of pressure as he massaged the taut muscles, a snap of pain gripped at the nerves of his limb, toes twitching painfully, gaining a piqued hiss from his torrid throat that he soothed thanks to the flask that hung from the backpack's straps that conjoined by a buckle where his chest was supposed to be.

Darkness had finally shrouded the world around him, the moons bioluminescent rays glittering against the verglas cloaked grooved bushland.

The vicinity of forest he currently resided in for the night wasn't as thick as he would have pleased but it was enough to camouflage his already green clad body from what lurked in the dark, leering silently, awaiting the time to pounce of any soul unfortunate enough to dare tread through the thickset.

The rustle of distant shrubbery sharpened his mind, ears ringing as he forced his senses to their fullest. As his ears twitched, his emerald optics searched around the surrounding area for any signs of another's presence.

But all he heard and saw, was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The silence only being broke by the cackling flames of the fire that seared before him, warming his aching limbs that still cried out in agony.

As years stretched like the cheese on a hot pizza, he grew keen and observant, expecting the unexpected for he was one of the unfortunate rares that was constantly sought after, mainly due to his once golden powers that enhanced the elements of four pesky ninja, but that element was far gone, now only green remained, but still sought for never the less.

So here he sat with shallow breaths, whispering winds and the howling of a flute?

Before the blonde was able to leap into action the weapon struck the side of his head, pain blooming from the harsh strike, leaving the obliviously aware Lloyd to crash to the cold forest floor with a groan.

Immediately he leapt to his feet, back pedaling to create distance between him and his assaulter.

Their legs crouched, wielding the whistling weapon that howled, wooden flaps withing the staff spinning on their foundations, the sound made his stomach churn with nausea, the staffs ends were thick, housing the many swatches that again spun, with every push of wind, repulsion thickening with every melody it sang. Their mask: artlessly painted an aqua blue, that descended into two tusk like spikes wrapped in leather. Atop their head, six spikes jutted, individual appendage like tendrils wrapped in their own leathery bindings. The eyes, hollow, black. Intimidating almost.

The assailant's body was clad in a glittering armory that reflected the devouring flames elegantly, an alluring dance, almost like looking into a scope with dyed glass, that when it turned a whole new shape and color was provided, producing dopamine to the brain.

The two circled the fire, knees bent, dancing on the balls of their feet.

"Who are you?" Lloyd's voice shattered the tight stretched silence, fingers tingling with numbness as whisps of green began to materialize, weaving between his fingers mechanically, obviously very practiced even from the assailant's blackened eyes that seemed to bore into his very being. The boy's body creaked and groaned as fatigue sprinted a marathon to catch up to his now overactive body compared to just a few moments ago, thus slowing his heavy leaden body.

The aggressor's battle form never faltered and neither did his, but when the others shadowed eyes caught sight of the jade- almost flame like- whisps engulf his hand they leapt.

Lloyd shot to the side, avoiding the others attempt to harm him but when he turned back around, the air turned a rancid green, the pungent odor reeked of death.

Stumbling back his foot caught the strap of the travel bag- why must his beloved water canaster betray him so?- he fell back with a harsh thud, the winds pushing that ungodly fragrance closer. But as quick as the fog enveloped him it was gone in a violent flash.

His body hummed with pain, ears ringing, burns blistering along his exposed skin, some now revealed by the holes that littered his Gi. His face ached, eyes fluttering open to reveal the armored feet of his assailant who crouched to meet his lidded eyes, his bag in hand.

It had been emptied; the contents strewn askew across the icy forest floor, canned goods, snacks, baggies of food that his father and Kai had packed for him behind his back and a few emptied plastic water bottles. A few of the bagged foods sported sticky notes with sappy little notes that went unnoticed or just ignored by the ferreting thief.

The figure heaved a sigh, shoulders hunched as they crouched to retrieve the goods, slipping them back into the bag and turning to the teen who lay, damn near motionless for he was too afraid to move in fear of possibly receiving the same attack once again.

The figure spun the hooked staff in one hand over head that again whistled, as if calling for someone, the flaming blade that was clutched in the other retracted back into the hilt, flames extinguishing.

Ah, that must have been what set that smoke aflame.

That was the last thing that sprinted through his clouded mind as sleep overtook his already aching and fatigued mind.

She stood in the doorway of the room where the blonde slept, it had been two days since her encounter with the prophesized green ninja, not that she knew of it at least.

Lloyd had passed out when you went to retrieve him from the frigid floors of the forest to where he planned to hunker down and seek shelter.

After ransacking his bags and ferreting though his belongings you found nothing, nothing that led to the disappearance of him, and it enraged your restless mind.

Three months, he's been gone. Spring had passed months ago as breeding season came to a screeching halt- the greenery that surrounded your home within the jagged peaks of the winter ale grew withered, leaves changing from lush greens to warm reds and oranges.

His favorite time of year...

The strings to her heart sang a sorrowful tune at the thought of him, Sheramo, the jagged nosed deathgripper that captured her heart upon their first fight, the moment his pupils blown wide with admiration and obedience was when their friendship began, but that was also when they appeared.

Dragon hunters.

She'd watched them from above, suspended in the air, pendant from a single limb that flexed under her weight; she watched as they clutched the wean Egg Bitter's throat, the eggs shell still sat at the assailant's feet. It whimpering as their grip grew taught, arm raised over head. It growls out in despair before finally being thrust downward, colliding with the cold forest floor, unmoving, its pulseless corpse laying still, warmth leaching from its body.

The shufti of seeing it lay still, motionless on that forest floor, once animated eyes that glowed with life and energy, sat wide, vacant of any life.

And that is the day she made her decision, as she glared down at the mask that now clad her face, concealed her features from this blonde intruder who dared march onto her land and hunt her dragons.

But even as she besieged, ambushing him then striking him down with the rancid breath of a Hideous Zippleback and ferreted his belongings. The most she found was a feather tipped pen, the metal still soiled with dry ink.

It struck her as unusual due to how reputable the mountain was as words fell from villagers' tongues of how the mountain on the farthest side if the birchwood forest housed over hundreds of dragons and their leader.

The Whispering Willow.

She had been bestowed the title due to her nimble and unique stature, her movements silent, but smooth, like the swaying branches of a Willow, but also the soundless tears shed for the ones who had fallen to the hunter's whitened knuckles and greed filled eyes.

His scaled head awoke her from her sorrow clouded mind. Edgar's pointed tusks nudged at the heel of her gloved palm affectionately, slit pupiled eyes pinning as he stares up at the mask that adorn her face.

Shifting around the belly pocket of her armor Egar let out a gurgle as he peered from the doorway to the sleeping boy, his blonde locks caressing his softened features. The way the suns vibrant rays shone through the lose yellow strands cast a white halo around his dome, but she saw nothing angelic of the green ninja.

A scoff left her throat as she lifted her gloved hands to click at the masks buckle that sat painfully at the bone of her skull, the material falling from her head as if it were a simple piece of led. But alas was caught by the material of her gloves.

"Wh- Who are you?"

_____________

"LLOYD!" A chorus sang as the drumming of footsteps approached the said boy who slid from the stormcutters back, which in reply gained him a low growl and a narrow-eyed glare. Rearing her head Ameyan chuffed, vocal cords singing as she hissed out at the blonde.

"Lloyd! There you are! Where have you been? We've all been looking for you, you were supposed to be home four days ago!"

That there is correct, our dearest Reader and the blonde Garmadon spent a rather grueling four-day week together. Due to his momentary poisoned state after being attacked by the masked teen.

Speaking of; Reader sat, perched atop the dragon's saddle, gloved thumb stroking at the serrated scales of the hatchling that resides within the pouch of her armor; the empty clothed sockets of the feature concealer glaring emotionless daggers into the four who approached, but was soon chased with another.

All words died as their tongues as the raven-haired teen released an exasperated gasp as she stumbled back, eyes wide at the four-winged beast, its head tilting to the side with a chirp-like gargle. Curious as she was. Ameyan shrank back slightly, namely due to create distance.

"L-Loyd- what is that!?" Nya announced putting a bit of an emphasis on the last word as the said boy turned with a slight smile, peering to the other who placed a hand to rear of the energetic baby who clawed at the material of her metal armor. "Oh, Thats Reader and Ameyan-" A growl was sent his way. "And that there on her shoulder is Edgar." Lifting a finger, he directed their attention to the smaller reptile that- now- clung to a keen point of the others mask via their jaws, a hand was still suspended for the childs safety. "Where did you find them?" Quirking a brow, Jay shifted away as the masked figure threw a leg from the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud and clank. Leaning closer to the blonde: "And what happened to their leg?" As if being heard, the masked woman turned, head snapping in their direction with haste, surprising a few that she didn't get whiplash.

"She's scary..."

_______

"Can you slow down!? It's hard trying to grab onto nothing but metal!"

"Then hook your hands together, it's not my problem your so inexperienced with riding dragons of this stature." She harped with a snap. Lloyd's brows furrowed, displeased with the females burst of harsh words, but she wasn't exactly wrong.

He and his brothers had shared their fair share of dragon stories, for instance, Cole, who was deathly afraid of them, their piercing eyes that pinned, determining their specific mood, or even the monstrous wings with could blow even the strongest of men onto their rear. And Kai, who was still as skeptical as ever with the newcomer. Jay, seemed content, he was able to use the dragons wing anatomy to recreate his invention, the wings, with their consent of course and their riders.

Cole seemed neutral with the whole thing along with Zane, but Nya was estaticed having another woman on board to share words of drama with, which much to her dismay, reader was for sure not one of the ones who indulge in drama's outside of her dragons and late-night rides into the moutains.

Which is where the two were as of now as a matter of fact, Lloyd had caught the mask clad teen clambering atop of her dragon's saddle, the said reptile chuffing in displeasure as the metal of her prosthetic dug into the scales of her ribs, gaining a haste but also nonchalant apology from the woman. Lloyd had been insisting for the longest while to assist the dragon rider on one of her many nightly adventures that normally have her returning clutching the fabric of her sides, or even cradling the bruised bone of her elbow. And much to his surprise, this time she had said yes. And she was beginning to regret it.

"Come on! I had a dragon too! It even had four heads, FOUR HEADS!" The blonde boasted with a sheet of offense woven into his voice. Reader shook her head with a simple roll of her eyes which were concealed beneath the thick material of her blackened mask sockets- meaning it went unnoticed by the boy who clung to the metal of her armor.

Ameyan's chest rumbled at the heightened volume of the others voice as Reader stroked the smooth scales, the texture closely resembling that of one's skin. Replacing the agitated grumble was a purr of pleasure as she chuffed. "Calm down Ameyan."

"What's wrong?"

"Your voice pitched to a decibel that hurts her ears." The female responds glancing back, Lloyd dodging to avoid the jagged point of the cyan mask.

"Oh, uh- sorry Ameyan- uh, I didn't know." A single chirp escaped the reptiles throat as her tail snapped to the side, the serrated ends slicing the air. "She says she doesn't forgive you." Reader responds, a twinge of amusement dancing in her tone. "What!? It was such a small thing though! Damn, these dragons sure hold grudges..." The blonde muttered the last part to himself, a hand raised as if to kill the next words that lingered on his tongue.

"Be greatful Edgar isn't here, you wouldn't have a night shirt to wear, you wish to see grudge, tip little man over the edge, you'll wish you never had us attack you." Reader mused, but as quickly as the softened air around them grew, it was killed by a thicker aura, Reader having gone quiet.

"Huh? What happened?-"

"-Shush, do you hear that?" The female teen speaks in a hush, Lloyd's lips pulled into a thin line as his ears strained, attempting to hear past the hissing gales of wind and the constant and yet paused flapping of the Stormcutter's wings.

A cry of agony echoed trough the air, the sound piercing the heart strings of the destined green ninja. "What is that?..."

"A dragon." The words were simple yet straight to the point.

"Wait, so this is what you do every night? Go out scouting for dragons?"

"No, I scout for hunters. They kill the parents and sell the babies, if one is injured, deformed, or even sick they will kill it. I am here to prevent more innocent blood from being shed."

"Wait- hold on- So this is why you come back to the Monastery beat to a pulp? Because you're fighting these hunters!?" His voice rose in volume, worry and scolding at the same time. "You shouldn't be doing this alone! What if something happens? What if you're hurt, kidnapped or worse!?" Reader's hand again snapped up almost demanding that the boy shut his hole before it was shut for him.

And with that, his words died in the ball of his throat.

"I've yet to have such thing happen, but if anything were to happen, I've given my companions here-" She pats Ameyan's horned head- " to return to their home in the mountains." She spoke with an unnerving calmness; one that made the one who sat behind her, hands still gripping the material of her armor coil back.

She really was ready to sacrifice herself to save these creatures, to the point where she returned for nights on end battered and bruised, sleeping for hours maybe even days, and skipping meals because her chest felt too tight to swallow. She was more than ready to die for these creatures, creatures she called a family.

An oddly familiar yip escaped the females throat as two fingers snapped to point to a wide opening within the tree's, perfect for a soundless landing and swift elevation to escape if need be.

Without another word the three descended.

Tossing a leg from the dragon's side, the teens cautiously slid from the saddle.

Lloyd glanced to the one beside him, Reader stood, stroking the underside of the reptiles chin, the soft flesh flexing as they whispered words of praise and assurance before turning to face the blonde.

"You are to stick to my side, but I swear to any God's that have ever strode these forsaken mortal grounds- if you make any noise, I am leaving you here." Lloyds hand's instantly shot up in mock defense.

"Roger that." He grumbled softly. "Now that that's out of the way, we have a few dragons to assist!"

Twigs and brush rustled beneath the feet of the duo, Reader who had taken the lead crouched into a rather awkward position before pressing the spine of their back into the gruff bark of a nearby tree. Lloyd following close in her wake.

"I'll distract the hunter's; you get those dragons the fuck out of here as quickly as humanly possible." She spoke with a sternness that vibrated the core of her chest as she explained. A humored smile spread across the blonde's cheeks as he nods bobbily.

"Will due captain, I'm not called the green ninja for nothing ya know?"

"Alright hot shot, lets crash this party." And with that, two hands lifted to the mask as Reader slid it from over their head, dropping it somewhere behind yet another nearby tree.

Lloyd sat in awe; the illuminating light of the thinly sheeted moon cast a soft haze over her scar littered features, from her hardened (e/c) hues to her hair that caressed the plump flesh of her cheeks, lips, pulled into a thin line expressing her obvious displeasure of the current situation. Even under harsh circumstances, she really was just as old as she was, maybe even older.

"You're staring, it's impolite." Her words were sharp as she spat them. Awakening the boy from his dazed trance. Shaking his head he nodded firmly, brows now pulled into a tight knit. "Right, sorry."

Peering to the side, her eyes caught the faint glow of a burning flame that danced along the charred kindling, her eyes narrowed. "Alright, the plan is in action, keep with it or this will be the first and ever last mission you go on with me." Leaving the words to die on his tongue she lurched forwards, emerging from the brush where they sought refuge and camouflage under.

The double headed staff clicked from its spot on the womans back as she spun it over her head, the sound all too familiar to the Garmadon boy who took that as his cue to get moving.

Nimbly dancing around bushes and brush he made near no sound as he made his way to the bound creature; a low rumble erupting from its chest as it heaved a bored breath before shifting slightly.

"So it is you, Azgore?" Her tone was mute, deprived of emotion as she waltzed forwards, strides wide and confident as she approached the seated male.

Azgore, a longtime enemy of the Dragon protector, his soul purpose to her- was to kidnap and kill as many reptilian creatures as humanly possible; all to get some coin in his pocket.

The said male pushed himself from his seated position with an irritated groan, clearly annoyed with the female's reappearance.

"Ah, Reader, my old friend, how nice of you to join me! I've been quite alone without you to chase me!" His words held a foul sweetness to them, tongue dripping malice as he seethed.

Reader snapped a whistling head to the ground with a thud as her hues narrowed, brows furrowing. Even in the dark her features popped, more pronounced as she stalked forwards.

"Sorry to interrupt your little tea party but you have something that doesn't belong to you." Her tone honed and tongue sharp she hissed. "And they surely do not belong in the hands of a man as foul as yourself."

Reaching to the side Azgore retrieved his reaper, the blade keen and edge honed to a sharp line, he spun the hilt skillfully. "It's upsetting I was actually about to settle down for the night but my plans are damn near always interrupted by yours truly." With a sigh he directed the blade to the armored teen, her lips pulled into a snarl, a growl escaping her lips.

Then she pounced.

"Shuh, shush, shush, SHHH! Shut up or he'll hear us!" Lloyd pleaded with the thrashing beast, growls and hisses passing its bound throat as the chains clashed together. It was hard to see with the thick sheeted cloud that passed over the weaning moon, its illuminance sheading some light in the area focused on. An area he could not reach due to the animals constant movement.

From afar he could hear the clash of metal on metal, the scraping venoming his eardrums that rang with the deafening sound. It grunted again, thrashing turning to nothing but a shallow tremble.

It was afraid.

"Whenever they pull away from you like this, stroke they're under chin, it may be risky, but I assure you it's worked almost every time I have done it!"

Thats what Reader told him, his first time interacting with Ameyan, she had jerked away from him, a hiss passing her serrated teeth as she cowered.

She wouldn't let him touch her, create a bond, or even interact with her, letting him ride with Reader was a once in a blue moon interaction. But it looks that information granted to him from the dragon whisperer herself would have to be put to the test.

Would it work?

A grunt passed her chapped lips as she lands with a firm thud, the soft ground turning as the armor she donned dug shallow lacerations into its soiled surface. The blade's hilt fell from her hands, skidding across the foliage littered floor, flame ignited bayonet smothered, immuring nothing but smoke.

A triumphant cry of victory ripped through the air like a bullet as Azgore thundered forwards, foot now clonked against the teens armored shoulder blade to which she gripped with a stuttering strength. She was heavy, worn, and battered.

The taste of copper still lingered on the buds of her tongue as split flesh of her lip pulsed, crimson leaking between the cracks, tainting her tongue with her own whine that felt slick, damn near slimish.

As the man applied pressure Reader hissed, a whimper passing her lips as the metal plates of her own armor betray her, boring into the skin of her shoulder, material puncturing further into the layers as he pressed his foot down. The sword that spun in the enemy's hand glinted, the sight of her wide, fear-stricken features reflecting back as it raised. "Any last words?" He hummed with a sickly-sweet tune.

No words had to be said as the glistening edge was raised above his head.

Honestly, she thought that when she passed it would have been by the scythe of the reaper of souls; but instead, it was going to be by the blade of her enemy, one who she despised the most out of the many of who she imprisoned and captured with their dragon parching's and illegal black-market selling's.

Her heart raced as anxiety spiked, stomach flipping like a gaping fish out of water.

As the sharpened edge was brought down a wave of acceptance took its course, replacing the iced blood that froze her veins.

Lloyd and the others were capable of taking care of her little one, right?

Edgar wouldn't mind, would he?

Ameyan would be alright on her own, able to return to the others that you were able to nurture and raise as your own kin?

Of course, she wouldn't mind, she was yours after all; she would live to fulfill what the two of you were reaching to achieve.

The longer her thoughts carried through, the longer she waited for the strike that would end her life. But instead, she was greeted with a whistle followed by a grunt and thud. Azgore hissing.

"Ya know, it's rude to put your hands on a lady like that?" Lloyd chuckled, the hood of his Gi pulled to conceal his features but the female could still hear the smirk in his tone as a hand was placed to the bone of her back, a reassuring support.

You were granted another day of life thanks to the boy before you. And you were about to make it everyone's problem.

Dragon Names and pronunciations!

Stormcutter: Ameyan (Am-Yeah-an) [Female]

Deathgripper: Edgar (Ed-Ger) [male] ||The baby||

Triple Strike: Oirsoid (Oh- roh-soh-id) [male]

Death Song: Shermaro (She- er-ma-ru)

FINALLY FUCKING DONE LFMAOOOOOO

#lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert

20 notes · View notes

wonda-ch · 1 year

Note

41. — insanity, pretty please ^^;

The last of the One Word Prompts 41. — insanity

----

It was not her intention to kill them. She talked to them, hoping to convince them to take a different path or just leave. But they mocked her. They didn't listen to her words, not even to her threat that her good mood was coming to an end. Still, she tried to remain calm, to ignore all the anger and fear that she had been carrying around with her these past few days since her return from the abyss. Why couldn't these naive idiots just realize that they weren't going to win a fight and just go away? Then a flying dagger struck her shoulder. It left only a small scratch, not even worth healing. But her patience snapped, and she came down on them like a deadly thunderstorm. She did not even notice their screams.

Now Tishlia stood in the middle of the bloody mess that had once been three cultists. She was covered in blood. It dripped from her dark sword and made her blue Azata wings look like a grotesque work of art. Her left fist was glowing with electric arcs, ready to be sent to her next target. She breathed deeply. Her gaze was focused but lacking of emotions. She didn't move, she just stayed tense and waited. Waiting for a new victim to end her rage.

During the brief battle, her companions tried to catch up. But then they noticed that the fight ended, and stopped, horrified. Only one of them didn't stop and kept walking to reach the furious commander. Seelah stepped in front of him and grabbed his arm. "Stay here and let her calm down, Daeran. She's not herself right now."

"Not herself? She is insane!" Lann snapped beside Seelah.

Daeran glared at them both with a more than serious expression. "Don't you dare touch me, Seelah." She loosened her grip and he immediately went to his beloved.

"You couldn't let him go. She is out of her mind right now, she could kill him," Lann said worried.

"Then you want to stop the count? If anyone can get through her, he can. I guess we have to fix them if something goes wrong." Seelah's reply was sharp, and she watched Daeran's approach with tension.

Daeran was worried. Worried about her. But more worried about the possibility that she might attack him, and something might assume that he was in life-threatening danger. So he pulled himself together and tried to remain calm. He slowly approached the tense commander and called out to her in a soft, loving tone. "Hey darling, I think it's over. None of them will rise again."

His words didn't find their way into her mind, but she recognized a presence. With a fluid movement, she turned, ready to send the lightning of her left hand into another victim. At the last second, a realization flashed through her eyes as she released the magical energy. Daeran's head hurt and he felt dizzy as he realized that her hand was aimed at him. Calm, stay calm. He didn't move. He felt the electrical tension as the massive bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of him, just inches from his feet.

The tension in Tishlia's body faded and she took a deep breath before closing the short distance to Daeran. She searched his eyes for a hint of his feelings and whispered, "I'm sorry." Gently, he took her left hand to his lips. He kissed it tenderly and smiled at her. "There's no need to apologize, darling. I know you never fail to hit where you aim."

#one word prompts #tishlia x daeran #tried something new with the translation #if something is not understandable please tell me 😅#thanks for the ask💕

19 notes · View notes

hyrule-kingdom-updates · 2 years

Text

Siv couldn’t hear anything for one brilliant moment.

There was a ringing in his ears, and his mouth tasted bitter. His eyes could only register a blur of assorted lights and colors, he didn’t even know where he was. Jail? Outside? Home?

He blinked.

Gold.

Then he remembered.

As our eyes focused, Assivus became acutely aware of the lack of air in his lungs and the arm pinning his neck against metal.

“Go! Mipha!”

Assivus reached up and tried to claw out of Arcadius’ grip, the vain attempt at escape only serving to tighten the hold.

“Asivus,” Arcadius grumbled through gritted teeth, “I will always love you, but if you or anyone else here lies even a stern gaze upon my son, I am not afraid to—”

He wasn’t listening. He continued squirming in his brother’s grip as he watched Mipha escape effortlessly. Kohga continued being useless off to the side somewhere as per his pattern…

At least Astor seemed to be handling himself properly.

A knife flew into the wall as the prophet nonchalantly stepped to the side, not a glimmer of shock in his long dead eyes.

“S-Siv!” The captain was still attempting to reason as Assivus thrashed, “I’m begging you to please—”

He tried to swing a fist backwards to sock Arcadius in the shoulder, jaw, or something to get him to let go. But of the swings that even managed to make contact, didn't seem to phase the captain at all. One might even consider that it would have been better to choose the brother with the greater muscle mass, but alas.

Mainly, as the conflict brewed, Assivus occupied himself with the audacity of still being at the mercy of this pathetic, rambling—

“—Please, I’m sorry that I—”

Boring. Asivus tried to slouch down and kick backwards at his brother’s knees. Unfortunately he still couldn’t get the angle on him. Off to the side, the sound of Kohga getting the wind knocked out of him could be heard, along with the echo of metal clattering on the floor. Mipha was spouting something as she readied a spear at Astor.

Asivus huffed in defeat. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“—ago, that I might still be able to get you…W-What?” Arcadius knitted his eyebrows. “Bite what? I didn’t even ask a question, or say any exaggerations in need of—”

Assivus sunk his teeth straight into his forearm. It didn’t take much force to get a scream out of him, most likely helped due to the arrow wound apparent through poor Arcadius’ palm.

Despite it all, some unseen force that wasn’t mine seemed to give Arcadius the will to keep holding onto Assivus. But the moment’s shock and hesitation was enough of a window for me to break free of his grip and charge towards Mipha and Astor.

Her eyes were locked on the seer. “But. You on the other hand…”

The trident soared, and Astor made no movement or indication of caring about the incoming promise of death. Assivus shoved his shoulder and conjured a sword of malice. The audacity of being ignored as some secondary priority bubbled in his mind. He swung upwards in a sloppy parry, the trident hissing at the contact, before clattering once more to the ground.

Astor nodded his head, not even looking at him. “Appreciated.”

“Too lazy to magic up a shield?”

“I’m low on malice, that’s why you exist, no?”

“Get more of your own. My back’ll break from carrying this whole team.”

Astor muttered under his breath. “I only managed to siphon so much from that woman—”

The creak of a metal hinge. The sound of a holy sword sliding up against its scabbard.

It was Assivus’ turn to be tugged by the shoulder as Astor moved towards Link.

“Now, one moment. Let’s help this hero learn to keep quiet, permanently.”

#???#Assivus Hartell #hku spoilers #The Battle of Mallory Crown

14 notes · View notes

aspiringhorrorauthor · 2 years

Text

GX Month- Scream

Accidents happen, but in ancient kingdoms, accidents can be a lot more serious, if there's not a skilled healer nearby.

For @gxmonth

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41403294/chapters/104625219

Warnings for this chapter are blood and broken bones.

“You can’t possibly suggest we leave now, why, we’ve haven’t even spoken with Haou!”

“The King believes we will soon be outstaying our welcome. Unless he soon changes his mind, which he is not wanting to do, we will have to return to Light World tonight.”

Marmoru bit his lip, turning away from the Guardian. He had very little want to return either; the few conversations he had had with Haou were wonderful, so far removed from the stuffy conversations back in Light World, or the awkward hero-praise he received within other worlds when he was trying to help. Like speaking with the only person who saw him as his own person that weren’t his family. To return to Light World meant a return to his duties with the Light of Healing, and frankly, he’d rather enjoyed the lack of pressure the past few weeks.

“Can you not convince him otherwise? You are usually quite skilled at that,” Marmoru suggested. The Guardian scoffed.

“Skilled, yes, but not perfect. It’s taken quite a bit to keep us here this long. You have no idea how much work it was trying to convince him to let even Ruby stay here. There is nothing else I can do, Marmoru. Prepare to leave tonight,” The Guardian answered with a note of finality, turning to return to her own quarters. There was little use arguing when she spoke like that.

“Oh Ruby, I do not wish to leave so soon,” Marmoru whispered to her, picking her up from his bed to hold in his arms instead. Ruby agreed, trying to whisper comfort to him that they would return one day, possibly once Haou’s own powers manifested, but that felt like too long to wait. He glanced around the room; there was little to prepare for his departure except for his clothing, and that would barely take any work. “Let us walk around the grounds a final time. We might be able to run into Haou once more,” Marmoru suggested. The Guardian still didn’t know they had met, and Haou and Marmoru had both agreed it was best if neither she nor the King knew they had ever spoken.

He left the castle with practiced ease, the quickest route out of the oppressive structure seared into his memory from all the times he had snuck out to avoid The Guardian, making his way out towards the surrounding fields once more. It was cooler here than the castle, surrounded as it was by its moat of lava, and it felt easier to breathe too. Marmoru closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths, knowing it might be a while before he could feel this air in his lungs once more.

A horrifying, ear splitting scream reached his ears, carrying from afar, jolting him back to the present. It stopped for a breath before continuing, seeming to get closer, ever so slowly. A nearby servant girl, carrying a basket of clothes, dropped them to the floor and made to run towards the screaming, and a voice in the back of Marmoru’s mind that he should take more care, should grab his sword before he went chasing it, was quickly ignored in favour of following her, Ruby dropping out of his arms to allow him greater ease to run.

He realised with dawning horror that the further he went, the closer he got to the forest Haou and Yubel played in, the louder the screams got there more obvious that they were coming from a young boy, cutting out only to be replaced by sobs and hyperventilation. And once the culprit of the screams was in sight, his worst fears were realised.

“Please,” Yubel cried out, “He fell from the tree, I can’t carry him.”

Yubel was trying to support Haou, both hobbling horribly slowly back towards the castle as Haou was wracked with sobs, desperately trying to keep himself upright and hop along on one good leg. The other was broken, it wouldn’t take a healer to spot that, twisted at an unnatural angle, a slight flash of white among the blood telling that it was more than just a simple break. Marmoru knew in an instant it wouldn’t heal right, not a break like that. Haou’s strength gave out, collapsing to the floor as Yubel tried to catch him, tried to lower him more gently, but he put too much weight through the broken leg and he screamed once more.

“Sir Marmoru, can you carry him back to the castle?” The servant girl asked, looking back at him imploringly. “The healer might be able to do something.”

Marmoru bit his lip hard; he knew no healer could fix that, no amount of attempted positioning and bed rest and potions the apothecary could dream up of could make the bone set correctly and keep away infection that followed the bone in, no-one could allow the Prince to walk as once he had. No healer, except one.

Yubel’s hands were shaking; they’d be blamed, no doubt. Punished for allowing the Prince to be hurt so badly. Exiled at best, no doubt, and at worst… Marmoru clenched his fists. The Guardian had told him not to use his powers, to not let anyone know who they truly were, just visitors from the Light World, in a dimension where Light held no sway. Where the power of Light rarely touched. But he could not allow Haou and Yubel to suffer for the sake of the Guardian.

“There is no need,” Marmrou assured her, crossing the gulf between where he stood and where Haou lay. “Prince Haou will walk himself back to the castle, I promise.”

“He can’t,” Yubel insisted, tears streaming down their own cheeks.

“He will,” Marmoru insisted, knealing and raising his hands to the broken bone. Haou squirmed beneath him, but he took a deep breath, focusing on the light, on the familiar chill as his powers flowed through his veins, down to his fingers, a brilliant glow emanating from his hands. He heard a gasp, but pointedly ignored it, focusing solely on the chill, and the break below him, a break that needed to be fixed, a bond he could form once more, until he could feel it forming beneath him, fixing fast, strong, getting ever stronger until nothing more changed, the bone as strong as it had ever been.

He lowered his hands, the glow and chill disappearing, leaving nothing behind but the amazed spectators, a pool of blood that no longer grew, and Prince Haou, still crying on the floor, his eyed glued shut.

“Haou, open your eyes, look at your leg,” Marmoru instructed, but Haou shook his head. No doubt he had seen it when it was broken, but now there was nothing to see. Marmoru reached for his hand. “Please, trust me. Has the pain not gone?”

Haou did not react for a few moments, but slowly he nodded, opening his eyes to look straight into Marmoru’s face, before turning to look at his leg. Where before the bone had been clear through the skin, now you could see no mark, no scar or wound, and had there not still been blood painting the area, you would be forgiven for thinking there had never been anything to begin with. The tears on Haou’s face gave way to a look of confusion, while Yubel fell to their knees beside him, clenching him like a lifeline, their own eyes awash with tears of relief.

A throat was cleared from somewhere behind him, a familiar sound that made Marmoru flinch, his eyes snapping shut as he feared what awaited him when he turned.

When he did look, it was to his amazement a sizeable crowd behind him, no doubt drawn too by the Prince’s screams. He recognised the castle healer, looking shocked yet relieved, giving him a thankful smile. The King too, frozen in fear, quickly shaking it off to push past Marmoru and Yubel, to take his son in his own arms, examining him head to toe and yet offering no comfort. Marmoru backed off from the King, back towards the crowd, while Yubel tried to stay close.

A hand grabbed Marmoru’s arm, and he turned to the stony faced Guardian, not even looking at him, just watching the scene unfold before her. A shiver ran down his spine as he tried to step away from her, but she held him tight, quickly glaring at him before regaining her posture, watching as the King scooped Haou up in his arms to Haou’s protests that he could walk by himself, the crowd parting as the King passed, following behind closely, leaving just Marmoru, Guardian, Yubel and Ruby behind.

“I should think it would be wise for you to run, Yubel,” The Guardian suggested, her back to Yubel as she spoke, watching as the King disappeared into the castle. “Your negligence will not grant you any favours.”

“I can’t,” Yubel whispered, “I must know that Haou is well.”

“Have faith in the Light Of Healing, he will be fine. Marmoru saw to that,” The Guardian insisted, gripping Marmoru tightly, making him wince. She knew it too. “Nothing awaits you in that castle but death. The King is not a merciful man.”

Yubel barely even hesitated to answer. “Then this is good-bye.” And with that, they walked off, back towards the castle. The Guardian did not seem surprised.

“Remind me, Marmoru, what did I tell you before?” She asked, finally letting go of him. Marmoru stumbled away from her, rubbing at his arm.

“I could not allow him to be injured like that and not help when I knew I could. If we must leave now, so be it, but I could not hide myself when faced with that decision.”

“Then you have forgotten,” The Guardian scoffed. “’Do not use your powers until the time is right.’ You truly are a fool.”

With that, the Guardian too followed the path back to the castle, leaving just Marmoru and Ruby stood watching. Ruby quickly tried to assure him that his decision was right, but Marmoru just shook his head. The Guardian had not repeated the last part of that instruction: ‘You will know when the time is right’. And indeed, he had.

There could be no more perfect time.

#gxmonth2022 #yugioh gx #supreme king haou #marmoru

4 notes · View notes

gravyffxiv · 2 years

Text

FFXIVWrite - Prompt 12: Miss the boat

Run!

Louder than the noise of fighting and killing, her own voice thundered in her head, urging her to go, to dash towards the woods and disappear forever. No one would go after her. No one would care. It was the perfect moment.

Something had gone terribly wrong with the attack on the caravan. It was supposed to be the usual deal: ambush, kill, loot. They changed the point of their attacks often, so as to avoid letting their targets better prepare for them. When you lack numbers for an all-out assault, you make it up with cunning and might. That had been the way of the clan for generations, since the fall of Gelmorra.

It started normally. The Duskwights leapt from the shadows of the trees, blurs of grey and blue soon tinted red by the blood of their victims. This particular group of them had hired an armed escort, but there was too little a few overexcited teenagers – likely taking on their first job ever – could do. Their lack of skill was painfully obvious, their eagerness a poor substitute to a good blade, good armor, and training.

The looting soon started, Allynette taking her usual place keeping watch, eyes down the road, on the path to return home. She would always be the last to try and find something valuable, often taking only scraps of food, an overlooked coin, an ignored tool.

She considered herself extremely lucky when they found books, as the clan saw no need for any of them. She took any tome she could find, despite being unable to read anything on them. Just the fact she had it was comforting enough, as if she carried a piece of knowledge that could lead her to a better future.

Allynette’s musings were soon interrupted by the whistling of an arrow that flew from the woods behind her. The gurgling sound that came right after indicated the arrow had found its mark, as the man responsible for watching that side collapsed, his neck pierced through. Before his blood had reached the ground, a group of soldiers dashed from the trees, swords and axes raised.

“Adders!” another Duskwight yelled, needlessly. The yellow coats were well known, and fights with them occurred often. That time, however, it was not planned. The area was not part of their usual patrol routes, and they did not seem attached to the caravan, otherwise they would have been there when the assault happened.

She spun on her heels, drawing her daggers from their scabbards, their blades clean. She had not fought anyone that day, the caravan had only a handful of people who died rather quickly. She was not eager to fight, but knew the alternative was to die. There would be no leniency from the Adders, not after the raid, with peasants lying dead on the floor. Her heart thumped in her chest almost painfully, the grip on her daggers slacking.

You’re alone.

The caravan had consisted of three large wagons, each pulled by a pair of chocobos. The beasts lay dead with their masters, the wagons all close together, forming an improvised wall of wood and canvas. The fighting was happening on the other side of it. There were no eyes on her, no one to see she was running away. She knew where that road led, and many paths through the forest nearby. She could go. She could find help.

Why won’t you move?

Her heart raced; the choice laid on her overwhelming. Running could entail freedom, a new life, a new path. She knew her clan would not bother coming after her, likely considering she would die all by herself. Regardless of how many times she managed to survive, they still saw her as weak, unworthy, someone to push against walls of flesh and metal until she was cut down. She did not mean enough to them to be hunted, and she knew that.

What would that new life be, however?

Please run!

Would anyone take her, a caveborn Duskwight, with no knowledge of the real world?

You have to!

Would she have the courage to face those whose people she killed? Friends? Family?

You can do this!

She tightened her grip on her daggers, pressing her thumbs on the sides of the blades. The cool metal seemed to relax her, if only a little. Her heart slowed down and, for the briefest of moments, she felt like the steel of her weapons called to her, soothed her, strengthened her for that journey ahead.

“Stand down, coward!”

It hurt more than any wound made by blade or spell. The voice she heard pierced through all her resolve, turning it to ash. Allynette turned towards the speaker, their gaze meeting, crimson upon crimson.

Mother, she thought.

“Chieftain,” she said, knowing full well calling her otherwise would only bring wrath.

“Stay on your place," Allanessa barked as she strode towards the fight, dark armor clanking like bones of dark steel, sword held at the ready, eager to draw blood, “Wait for your betters.”

It was over quickly. The clan had been warned by a spy of a small platoon of Twin Adders moving through the woods, their destination unknown. It was likely they went out to some mission, or perhaps to join the endless fight against the heretical machine empire from across the sea. The warning came late, yet still on time to save the raiding party from a full slaughter. Nearly all warriors of the clan rushed to the fight.

They came to save the others. Not Allynette. Her savior would have been herself.

She looked back at the road she did not take, hoping she would be prepared the next time. She was not sure that would be possible. All she could be sure was that more pain awaited her at home.

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite #allyn grav'nost #ffxiv #ffxivrp

2 notes · View notes

ace-writing-about-love · 1 year

Text

Prompt #45 “Omega Lan, V2″

Gusu Lan, convinced of his fairness towards his students and equality, brings misery and lack of understanding to most of them. Gusu Lan never educated his students according to their second gender, they divided their students into male and female, thus separating their residence quarters, and this was the only division they used. Omegas, Alphas and Beta have always been treated the same way. For this reason, Lan Wanji's thoughts are bombarded with too many conflicting signals when students come to Gusu to attend Lan Qiren's lectures.

Lan Wanji doesn't understand why NH, the Omega of the No clan, doesn't carry his sword, he considers it weak, leaving his safety in the hands of others. He doesn't understand why Wei WuXian asks the young master Nie several times if he's tired, if he'd like to eat or rest during the short walk that separates them from Gusu's entrance gate to their student quarters. He also doesn't understand why WWX insisted on giving the room to NH so he could live alone, so he (WWX), JCH and JZX were forced to live together.

LWJ understood none of this. He was even more unhappy when it turned out that the books of Gusu's library are not able to give him answers to the questions that bothered him, he always found answers to the issues that bothered him. There were no answers to these questions...

For him, Wei Ying was the greatest unknown and incomprehensible being in the whole world. His behavior seemed to change 180 degrees depending on who he was with. In the company of JCH, he seemed to accost him with his every action, incite him, irritate him and encourage him to fight and play. However, when the NHS appeared in their company, WY immediately became more responsible, calmer and definitely more alert to every being around them. The strangest thing, however, was WY's desire to be in his company. On one occasion he dared to ask about his relationship with the NHS, but his answer did not explain anything. "The NMJ has handed him over to my care for the duration of these lectures." What's that supposed to mean? Why would NMJ hand over his brother WWX to custody? After all, they were the same age... None of this made sense to him.

WWX argued with his uncle and was punished by rewriting the rules. The LWJ was assigned to watch him carry out the sentence. As he left the lecture hall, he was followed by many strange, incomprehensible looks. The list of things LWJ didn't understand grew every day and he dreaded the moment when he would understand all the missing points...

***

WWX accompanied LWJ for over a month, day in and day out in the library, getting up before the other students in the morning without fail, accompanying his other NHS friends to the dining hall, and then walking him to the lecture hall. He said goodbye to his friends and then went to the library where LWJ was already waiting for him. He greeted him. It was not uncommon for him to talk and leave something small (usually to eat) on his desk and go about his work. However, he did not write more than an hour or two a day. Later, he would conduct a one-sided conversation with LWJ, draw, invent new talismans, read books aloud... At the end of the hours spent together, he would give LWJ drawings drawn by him, something sweet, say goodbye and run to the lecture hall where he joined the other students in on the way to dinner. LWJ was unable to understand so many things about his behavior and actions that he began writing questions in his notebook.

LWJ wasn't sure why but started collecting gifts from WWX in a box which he later hid under a loose board under his bed in his bedroom. He didn't know why he wanted to hide it, but when he thought that someone might discover all this, he decided that he would probably die of embarrassment...

***

- Lan Zhaaan. Laaan Zhaaan. LanZhan. Please don't ignore me... at least not today, Lan Zhaan.

WWX was sitting next to him on the floor, almost lying on the table where he was working.

- Wei Ying?

He asked surprised at the sudden change in the boy's demeanor.

- Lan Zhan! Do you want to walk with me? The walk sounds perfect. I can't sit still in this room today... Everything here smells of you, and I definitely can't help myself.

- Wei Ying?

he asked again. What was meant by saying that everything smelled of it, and why would WWX hold back? before what?

- Lan Zhaaan. If I say it's my time of year, will you understand what I mean, or does your Lan upbringing prohibit you from talking about that as well?

- Time of the year?

He asked, ignoring the rest of the statement. WWX fell to the table top with a groan.

- Evil Lan...

he sighed, then pushed off the counter.

- Okay, Lan Zhan. This will probably be as embarrassing a conversation as the one about bees and flowers, but I'll do it for you.

- Bees and flowers? Have you been drinking WWX?

- Laaan Zhaaan. I didn't drink anything. he said, almost offended. "Though I could use a jar of the Emperor's Smile right now."

- Okay then *he took a blank sheet of paper and began to draw three circles on it) as you surely know, because this knowledge even from your dry books they could not remove, all people work on Alphas, Beta and Omega (he said by signing each of the circles) apart from that, of course, we are divided into women and men (he divided all three circles with an even line in the middle). Each sex is characterized by certain sexual characteristics, e.g. women of each other sex once per moon if they are not with a child, they bleed. We can call it their time of the month. Alphas have their "time of the year" when they have too much energy... hmm... they want to find their partner and spend time with him, just the two of them, so they can get rid of that excess energy. Do you understand Lan Zhan? I am the Alpha, now I have my time of the year... You on the other hand as Omega surely noticed that you have "your time" once a quarter.

- My time?

"You know, that feeling that the clothes are too uncomfortable, the air is too warm, this emptiness inside?" In Yunmeng, they call it heat.

- My time... how do you know so much about Omegas, WWX?

- Well... Yunmeng requires everyone to attend a terrible course where we learn everything about the physiognomy of our bodies and... erm... how to say, the technical side of intercourse and caring for a partner.

- Shameless!

- Well, it was definitely embarrassing, but thanks to this, we have a basic knowledge of our bodies as soon as we introduce ourselves.

0 notes

skyborn-reads · 3 years

Text

📜 Your Toxic Traits — an intuitive reading

This reading reveals your possible toxic traits, where they stem from, how to move forward from them and includes channeled advice from your Higher Self. Please take only what resonates 💙

Warning: This pac can be rough for some because while it is a heavy topic, traits are also pointed out in a straightforward, matter-of-fact manner. If you are easily offended or sensitive, this pac might not be for you.

Picture sources 1 ✦ 2 ✦ 3 ✦ 4 ✦ 5 ✦ 6

Sky 1 — Unearth

Cards drawn: The Tower (reversed), Queen of Swords, Virgo/Demeter (reversed)

Before the shuffle I picked up on a fiery, direct but impulsive energy. Your cards flipped out the same way. Your toxic trait is leaping into things without thought. It's not that you don't see the potential risks, it's just that you decide to ignore them because of impulsiveness to carry on with what you want to do. You rely on luck a bit too much. A daredevil. Turning a deaf ear to others' advice. This trait needs to be realised and moved forward from because it will not do you good. You either have already suffered the consequences of your lack of thought or will face the consequence of your impulsiveness in the near future. The Tower card also comes with a warning: beware of what seems too good to be true. If your intuition is telling you that something is fishy, listen to it and don't leap headfirst into fishy ponds.

Next, another of your toxic trait could be abuse of power or overfixation on ego. Some of you might have issues with authority. You want to be seen as the rightful leader, the popular person. People's praises and attention make you feel good. Due to this you might place your self worth on others' thoughts about you. This trait can be a motivating force that leads you to higher places but it also makes you egoistical and if given the chance to, might abuse your power. If your worth depends on other people, then you're not the high and mighty monarch like you think you are.

Your Higher Self's Message:

“Seriously? Look inward. You're messing up your chances of winning if you keep pretending that you did nothing wrong. It's time to face the music. Admit your mistakes and you'll be free from the self judgement that pretends as if you're anything but the incorruptible genius you believe yourself to be. Why is your ego fragile? Perhaps because you never learned to distinguish the voice of reason from the sensitive ego. Admitting your mistakes lets you see more, lets you truly heal from what has happened. Let's not continue the cycle no more, let's forge a path of understanding so that we learn from our mistakes. The world is your oyster, but only if you really believe in your power and not the false pride that you tricked yourself into. You're capable of greatness, the past has proven that, but your insistence on past patterns also serves to prove that you don't really know yourself any better, inside you're just as fragile.”

Sky 2 — Belong

Cards drawn: The Hierophant, Nine of Pentacles, Pisces/Aphrodite

Your toxic trait is over-dependence. Going along with the crowd. Codependency. Seeking others' approval despite yourself capable of making decisions for yourself. Seeking direction from others. You might place your self worth on someone else. Anxious when it comes to making decisions. These traits affect your relationships negatively and might cause you to be disconnected from your true self and not seeing the value of relationships because the focus is on getting approval from the other person (be it friends, partners, etc) rather than focusing on the quality of the connection. Emotional fragility, being wishy-washy.

What you see is what is painted in by emotions, now to move forward from these toxic traits you are asked to realise the fact that you and you alone hold the key to your future. You are in power despite your tendencies to hand the power to others. You are not the meek lamb like you see yourself to be, but you are indeed misguided by thinking that other people can give you the direction and acceptance that you denied yourself first.

The Presence that watches over you (be it God, Universe, Higher Self or any higher power you believe in) beckons you to open your eyes to what is really happening around you, and your part in contributing to it.

Your Higher Self's Message:

“Peel back your eyes. We are not alone in this world. I wish to tell you that you have my every support. What is a person if they have not done wrong? We need not blame.” Your Higher Self has such a sweet loving energy, they regard you as a sibling! They are very soft-spoken. They send you love and would like to express that they are patiently watching over you in each step you go. They do not wish to pressure you, they're just happy that despite what you've been going through, you are learning and picking yourself up after every fall. “That is what I love about you.” They want to send you hugs and forehead kisses ❤️

Sky 3 — Pathways, Mirrors and Smokescreens

Cards drawn: Page of Wands, Four of Pentacles (reversed), Aries/Mars (reversed)

Your toxic trait is believing yourself to be an ideal than how you really are like. Seeking approval as support for a fabricated sense of identity. Deep down you know how you are like but you enjoy the idea of being portrayed or thought of as your ideal self. Vanity. Admiration for certain traits that you see as perfect, and wishing to be regarded by others as possessing these traits due to own lack of acceptance. Might reject reality.

Might be materialistic and see material gains as a direct link to worth. This is also what you might judge others on. Wanting to be accepted into the popular/prestigious group. Boastful. Feel the need to continuously display material success in order to satisfy the inner need for acceptance, but you must realise that this lack of acceptance stems from you not accepting yourself. Remove that crown of jewels for once, and ask yourself if stripped of this crown do you still love yourself? Because acceptance should be fundamental, not based upon any value or gains. Self love is needed to see past the crown, because you are already wearing the crown. You don't need to be rich or be accepted into any clubs to be a respected. You are worthy of love, respect and acceptance just by being yourself. Your true self shines brighter than any prestige, and it's time to reclaim your power.

Say no to those who judge you based on what you have. See past them. Know who your real friends are. True friends love you for your personality, for your presence, for your true self. Fake friends don't. Find your tribe of people who see you and value you for the right reasons.

Your Higher Self's Message:

“You're quite hard-headed huh? Well, it's good that you are turning back now. Remember though we see ourselves crystal clear. Even if you are not right now there is always time for you. Some things are meant to be taken step by step. Don't force what doesn't resonate, dear. Let me guide the path.”

Sky 4 — Stage & Scrolls

Cards drawn: Page of Cups (reversed), Five of Cups, Taurus/Venus

Underperforming. At the face of a challenging task you are procrastinating and only giving half of your attention/effort. Like the first group you tend to rely on luck. You are witty, yes, and you're quite smart, that's the reason you sometimes choose to take shortcuts or believe that you need only to put in minimal effort to get a higher than average result. Sometimes it looks like you're treating serious tasks like a game. Deep down you know you could do better but you don't always feel motivated enough to chase after excellence. You wish this and you wish that, but wishing won't bring you any closer to what you need.

Despite being a happy-go-lucky you are pessimistic in other regards, like when you're dealing with emotions and life events. You stare at the ground pondering if it will ever flower, due to this you might keep yourself pondering and become stuck in one place. It's not that you don't want to move forward, it's that you wear this veil of pessimism, questioning constantly if you should let it go. You seem to have inner conflict about your emotions, whether you should let it out in the open and allow yourself to feel them, allow yourself and people you trust some vulnerability, or whether you should act tough and mask it all up. Because it's uncomfortable to show emotions. I hear “empty”, well somebody once said that if your mind is empty then you're ready for anything. Despite your situation though your surrounding energy is very positive. Your spiritual friends trust you, they want to offer their reassurance and they want to tell you that they love you. I see angelic beings around you laughing merrily and sending you love 💕

Your Higher Self's Message:

“I trust you to make the right decisions. You have always been wise and strong. Know that you have my unwavering trust, okay? *hugs* Everything will turn out fine, okay?”

They give you a bright smile and if you are wanting to cry right now they would like to kiss your tears away in a motherly, affectionate way.

“You have nothing to be scared of. You're born strong, you fight back. What is the world? If I tell you you can, you absolutely can. Slay.” *blows you a kiss*

Sky 5 — Autumn Leaflets

Cards drawn: Ace of Cups, King of Swords, Virgo/Demeter

Your toxic trait is not daring to step out of your comfort zone, pretending that you're happy with the small things you have when actually you have much greater aspirations. It's good to be grateful for what you have but I'm hearing that you can achieve greater things if you commit yourself to chase after your dreams. Things have been in stagnancy for a while now. Stepping out of your comfort zone will switch things up for you.

You're a champion. You're talented. You have what it takes so don't listen to that discouraging voice in your mind telling you that what you want is not for you. It's quite the opposite. If you put in effort, you'll reap what you sow.

You might also be slow in action, like thinking too much instead of start doing it, moping around but not progressing, not doing what you're supposed to do or doing it too slowly. This has caused past opportunities to slip by and might cause the same in the future if you don't make a change.

You might not have a good relationship with your father. In fact some of you have had horrible experiences in your childhood relating to your father that makes you feel that you have to be on high alert with other people in case they get aggressive. For some of you this manifests as anxiety, and might cause you to shy away from people. This is certainly not your fault and if this is accurate for you I'm so sorry that you've had experiences like this. The Swords card would like to tell you that the past cannot be changed, it's good to have your defenses up but keep in mind that there are people who carry positive intentions for you and keeping your walls up at all times would not help the relationship. There is a certain degree of vulnerability that is important for a connection to reach true depth, and that is one of the lessons you have in this lifetime — to learn to trust the right people.

Your Higher Self's Message:

“I know the past was not easy. We've gone through that and we still have a lot to go. Be strong. Fight for what you believe is right. I'll always be on the other side cheering for you. We are the bestest friends, and despite the glass wall you put up separating yourself, we are One. I'll always come through for you.”

Your Higher Self tends to speak in dreams and symbolism. They advice you to read up on symbols or syncronities you see often.

“Some nugget of truth!” They winked.

Sky 6 — Choose What Grows

Cards drawn: Eight of Swords, Page of Swords (reversed), Capricorn/Cronus

Your toxic trait is self-limiting, stubborn, closing yourself off from opportunities and people who can actually help you. You pursue what you want even though facts tell you that it might not be what's meant for you. You keep pushing hoping that one day it will happen. Other people try to give you advice, but you don't listen unless they agree with you. This is incredibly self-limiting because you're closing your eyes from what is really good for you.

You can also be defensive when being met with judgement or people who question you and your choices. There's imbalance in your life, where it might feel everything is a mess and not orderly, not how you wanted it to be. There is impatience too for things to work out perfectly but without looking into the main reason why they went wrong.

Your Higher Self's Message:

“Prioritize what's important and prepare for what's next. Things are not always going to be that way. Be patient as it unfolds. There's something you're not noticing that's happening right in front of you. Do you see the patterns? It may be subtle but so is change. Sometimes what you need may not be what you want for now, but shift your perspective. Are you chasing after what you need, or are you patiently watering a plant that will not grow?”

#free reading #free readings #intuitive reading #intuitive readings #pac #divination #pick a card #toxic traits #cartomancy #62 #63 #64 #65 #66 #67

617 notes · View notes