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gamecrag · 9 months

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One of the most important aspects of the game is the type of army you choose to play with. In this article, we will be discussing the top ten ranged combat armies in Warhammer 40k. This list is intended to be a frame of reference to work within while working on your own ideas. It will hopefully keep you in the ballpark while deciding on your list and prevent you from building a shooty army so bad that you start to wonder if they are even allowed at tournaments. 10) Genestealer Cults The Genestealer is a terrifying creature that resembles a cross between a reptile and an insect. It has a long, sinuous body, razor-sharp claws, and a mouth full of teeth that can shred through metal. The Genestealer is also able to infect humans with its genetic material, which alters their DNA and makes them more susceptible to the cult's influence. The human followers of the cults are known as neophytes. They are physically weaker than their Tyranid counterparts but are still formidable fighters. They are armed with a variety of ranged weapons, including autoguns and mining lasers, and are skilled in close combat. 9) Orks (Bad Moon Clan) In the game, the Bad Moon Clan has a unique kultur, or special rule, that improves their ranged combat ability. According to the Goonhammer website, the Bad Moon Kultur provides two bonuses that apply to ranged attacks. First, their Dakka and Heavy weapons have their range improved by 6 inches, which means that the second profile is applied 3 inches further. Second, every time a model makes a ranged attack, the armor penetration of the attack is improved by 1 on every dice roll the Clan is known for their love of wealth and luxury, and their Orks' teef grow faster than anyone else's, which allows them to acquire bigger and better weapons. Their unique kultur in the game improves their ranged combat ability, making them deadly opponents in battle. They prefer to engage their foes at range, using their long-ranged weapons to devastating effect 8) The Leagues of Votann The Leagues of Votann also have access to powerful artillery, so make sure to use it to take out enemy fortifications and vehicles. The Votannic Bombard is a massive siege engine that can destroy enemy vehicles with ease, so make sure to use it to take out any tanks or other vehicles that your opponent may have. When playing as the League, it's important to focus on your core Hearthkyn Warriors and build your army around them. These tough and hard-hitting infantry can be customized with a variety of weapons and equipment, so make sure to choose the loadout that best suits your playstyle. The Hernkyn Pioneer is a powerful transport vehicle that can carry up to 10 Hearthkyn Warriors, so make sure to use it to get your troops where they need to be on the battlefield. 7) Chaos Space Marines Chaos Space Marines have access to a wide variety of ranged weapons, each with its own strengths and weaknesses Some specific units or characters that excel in ranged combat include the Chaos Lord, who can boost the accuracy and damage of nearby units, and the Havocs, who can provide heavy firepower from a distance. When using ranged weapons, it is important to position your units strategically to take advantage of cover and line of sight, and to be aware of the strengths and weaknesses of each weapon. 6) Space Marines With a wide range of ranged combat capabilities, Space Marines are certainly an amazing shooting army. They have access to a variety of ranged weapons, including bolters, plasma guns, and autocannons, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. Space Marines can also use special ammunition, such as kraken bolts for armor-piercing and inferno bolts for area-of-effect damage. In addition to their weapons, Space Marines have a variety of units and characters that excel in ranged combat. For example, the Devastator Squad is a heavy

weapons unit that can provide significant firepower from a distance, while the Techmarine can repair vehicles and fortifications while also providing ranged support. 5) Necrons To effectively use Necrons in ranged combat, players should focus on positioning, target selection, and army composition. Necrons are durable, but they can be slow, so it is important to position them in strategic locations to take advantage of cover and line of sight. Target selection is also important, as Necron weapons are most effective against certain types of targets. For example, gauss weapons are best used against heavily armored targets, while tesla weapons are best used against groups of weaker enemies. Army composition is also important, as players should aim to create a balanced force that can effectively deal with a variety of threats. 4) Eldar They have a wide range of ranged weapons at their disposal, including shuriken catapults, scatter lasers, and bright lances. Shuriken catapults are the standard weapon of Eldar infantry and are effective against lightly armored targets. Scatter lasers are highly effective against groups of enemies, while bright lances are powerful anti-vehicle weapons that can take out even the heaviest tanks They also have the ability to move quickly and easily across the battlefield, making them difficult to pin down and allowing them to take advantage of cover and line of sight. 3) The Imperial Guard The Imperial Guard can use different types of terrain to their advantage during ranged combat. For example, they can use cover to protect themselves from enemy fire, or they can use elevated positions to gain a better line of sight and increase the range of their weapons. Additionally, the Imperial Guard can use buildings and fortifications to create chokepoints and funnel enemy units into kill zones. When building an army that excels in ranged combat, players should consider including a mix of infantry, vehicles, and artillery. Infantry units can hold objectives and provide a base of fire, while vehicles can provide mobile firepower and take out enemy armor. Artillery units, such as Basilisks and Manticores, can provide long-range support and take out enemy units from a safe distance 2) Adeptus Mechanicus To maximize the effectiveness of the Adeptus Mechanicus' ranged combat abilities, players should focus on positioning, target selection, and army composition. They are a relatively fragile faction, so it is important to position their units carefully to take advantage of cover and line of sight. Players should aim to create a balanced force that can effectively deal with a variety of threats. One of the Mechanicus' most iconic weapons is the plasma gun. This weapon is highly effective against heavily armored targets, such as tanks and monstrous creatures, but can also be dangerous to the user if it overheats. They also have access to the Dunerider and Dunecrawler vehicles, which are armed with powerful ranged weapons and can transport troops across the battlefield. 1) The Tau Known for their exceptional ranged combat capabilities. Their advanced technology and skilled warriors make them a formidable force on the battlefield. The Tau have access to a variety of vehicles that are armed with powerful ranged weapons. The Hammerhead gunship, for example, is armed with a powerful railgun that can penetrate even the toughest armor. The XV88 Broadside Battlesuit is another powerful unit that is armed with heavy railguns and missile pods. Their ranged weapons are known for their high accuracy, thanks in part to the Markerlights ability. This means that the Tau can reliably hit even the toughest targets on the battlefield.

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

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Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them.

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #Mandalorian #soulmate au #my fic #my writing #death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din x you #din x reader

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redux-iterum · 3 years

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ThunderClan: Philosophy of War

Whispered rumors in the Houses and the Aulmir wind through the alleyways and snag on the ears of those outsiders to the Clans. Everyone knows that those strange colonies out east are specialized in some area or another. The moor cats speak to other animals, the swimmers hold fast to their cultural history, and some of those from ShadowClan have a strange aura that makes even natives there nervous. Unusual, yes, but not much to prattle to Mama about. Practically harmless, really, nothing a kemera can’t handle if they start getting pushy.

Except for the forest cats. Those cats, say the older strays, looking intensely into your eyes, their own wide with fear... Those cats - if you value your life - you are to avoid angering at all costs. You don’t know what they can do.

ThunderClan is a fearsome beast, even among the well-trained warriors of the neighboring Clans. The Clan’s founder, aptly named Brawn, was the greatest fighter the pre-Clan era had ever seen, and perhaps thereafter too. His descendants carried on his power and skill and expanded on it quite nicely. In the early days of ThunderClan, any vagabond that could hold their own in a tussle was invited into camp to rest for a night and teach their hosts a thing or two about techniques they’d picked up on their travels. Much like RiverClan hoarding trinkets and stories, ThunderClan scooped up every little trick and maneuver they could get their paws on, memorizing it all and telling their neighbors nothing.

This, of course, has made them incredibly dangerous.

It’s not just that they’re good at fighting - it’s that they have so much knowledge on the many different styles of combat, picked up from other animals and far-away loners, that every single cat in the Clan is able to be taught how to fight in their own unique way that plays to their strengths and covers their weaknesses. There is no set way a ThunderClan cat fights, because they’re all a different situation to face in battle. No group can be predicted; even the biggest warriors will attack differently than someone their size, but who is a little thinner (which is IMPOSSIBLE to tell, thank you, ThunderClan’s long fur).

And when two cats fight together, may the Three help you. Team-ups are not a rarity in general warfare, but ThunderClan seems to have it down pat, as natural as breathing. There are often two cats who can cancel out each other’s weak points and prove a match for even a group of four warriors. There are stories of mates or siblings or lifelong companions being a whirlwind of claws and fangs that decimate the enemy’s numbers. These stories are meant to teach caution and perhaps try to outnumber ThunderClan’s pairs and hope for the best.

Attempts have been made, of course, to discover the secrets ThunderClan grips close to its chest. Some have even wormed their way through to the other Clans. But it’s a crapshoot if any pithy detail learned will be helpful in a straight brawl. Some swear that ThunderClan warriors will change their method of attack in the middle of a battle just to confuse their opponents once they realize they’re being predicted. How that works, no one knows. The details and thought that go into being the best fighters in the territories are almost beyond understanding from anyone else. It’s like having kickboxed your whole life and coming across someone who has learned literally every martial art on the planet, including the ones you’ve never heard of (which, in this scenario, is all of them). You may be good, but you’re in trouble and you don’t know how to predict anything that will happen next.

It’s terrifying, and it’s no wonder why ThunderClan is almost never challenged by anyone. They barely have to flex their claws before everyone is intimidated into negotiations.

#warrior cats #warriors redux iterum #iterum #lore #worldbuilding #readmore #thunderclan #battles #battle

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hattiepins · 3 years

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Expectations

Zeke Yeager/Reader 18+ Chapter 1/??? Warnings: Alcohol mentions, explicit content a/n: I haven’t posted fic to tumblr in literal years so here’s me christening my new AOT blog with some Zekefucking. This fic will eventually have an actual plot, and I have it mapped out, but for now it’s just smut so have fun with it. I’m also on ao3 w the same @ if you prefer that layout better.

Zeke Yeager was an incredibly imposing man. The warriors were an intimidating group to anyone who had heard of them, but there was something special about him.

You had “met” several years ago, at work cleaning the imposing Marleyan government building that served as the warrior headquarters in Liberio. Most of the year it was filled with children hopeful that if they worked hard enough, dedicated their hearts firmly enough, and bought into the belief that they too could bring honor to their homeland, they could be worthy of inheriting a titan.

You liked children, and though it hurt to see them pushed into the grim roles they took up at the compound, you would occasionally share excited chats with them in the halls, rooms, or courtyards of the massive complex. You’d scrub the floors of the messes left behind by their muddy boots, or the walls of the grime that accumulated every week, and the candidates, being the chatty little kids that they were, would update you on their days. Who beat who in what race, how fast so and so could disassemble then reassemble a rifle. On a good day of work you were given a run down of everything.

On special days, though, the Marleyan warriors themselves would show up. A woman with unruly dark hair, a tall and disheveled scruffy man, and a blonde with a slicked back undercut all would often pass you by.

But Zeke Yeager? He always stood out to you the most. Anyone who could spare enough pocket change for a paper would know of the great feats of the beast titan and the man who held it. There had never been quite anything like him before in history, and his accomplishments on the warfront were praised as the ace up Marley’s sleeve in many battles.

In reality though, Zeke bore no resemblance to his titan, with there being no visual similarity between the terrifying monster printed on the front page of every news story and the warrior who controlled it.

He was tall, with a laid back posture that stood in stark contrast to his own mythic status. A legend among Eldians, and a fearsome specimen among all men, with his steely grey eyes and furrowed brow. He always looked as if he had something weighing on his mind whenever you spotted him, be it alone, or with his comrades.

You would absentmindedly toy with the hem at the edge of your own grey armband every time your eyes glanced over their red ones, not envying their lives as warriors but wondering what it must be like, being honorary Marleyans.

None of them ever noticed your presence, and why should they? You were the cleaning girl, a part of the scenery.

So then it comes as quite the shock when, tonight, as you head to the pub around the corner from the compound, Zeke Yeager recognizes you.

The place isn’t anything fancy, but it’s halfway between work and the run-down tenement you can afford to rent on a maid’s salary. You go here on your days off, when you want more than anything to just relax, have a drink, and listen to the gramophone at the bar play music that you’d never get to hear otherwise. It’s a surprise enough to even see Zeke here, but the way he reacts to seeing you has your heart seize up a bit in your chest.

He waves you over with his hand clutching his drink, calling your name with a voice just loud enough to be heard over the scratchy, poorly recorded music of the wax cylinder recording, his face plastered with a smug expression.

You blink slowly, as if closing your eyes will somehow remove him from the table in front of you and confirm that just a few sips of your drink have led to full on hallucinations. But you do not move.

Catching onto your nervousness, Zeke raises the glass of warm swill this poorly stocked Eldian pub calls drinks, swirling the liquid inside as he motions towards your general direction.

“Come on now, that’s your first drink of the night in your hands. I know you aren’t far gone enough to not recognize the sound of your own name.”

The volume of his voice is louder than you would like. A necessity, you know, for him to be heard over the sound of the gramophone, but still embarrassing.

You gesture stupidly at yourself with your pointer finger, and he nods, brows raised and mouth smiling with pursed lips as if he’s trying to stifle a laugh at your blatant confusion.

He, in turn, gestures for you to take a seat next to him at the small booth he holds for himself in the corner.

“You’re the cleaning girl, right?” He says.

And for as awkward as that introduction is, it doesn’t stop you from joining him.

“How did you know- where did you learn my name?” You drum your fingers against the base of your drink, still slightly nervous.

“I’m observant.” He takes a sip of his own drink.

“That, and you’re more well known than you’d think. The Grice boys talk about you sometimes. The younger one, Falco, is pretty damn fond of you, actually. Says you’re a good listener. Likes talking to you. His brother’s the one set to inherit my titan.”

You stare at him, a little shocked to hear that the candidates even remember you beyond simple hallway chatter, let alone that a warrior has actually taken note of your reputation with the children.

“Falco’s a good kid. Colt too.” Your lips quirk up into a small smile, thinking about the two blond boys, always polite and courteous. They even bothered to get to know you by name, and always seem to ask about your day before telling you about their own.

“You’re quite the conversationalist for someone who the government pays to mop floors and dust shelves all day.”

You tense up, and suddenly, for a moment, a sense of sudden clarity and fear grips you. Is this an interrogation? Does Zeke Yeager think you’re a spy because you’re too chatty with the candidates? You knew this felt off, there’s no way that he’d invite you here just to ta-

“If I’m honest, I noticed you first because I was shocked that a pretty face like yours would be working scrubbing dirt. Didn’t put a name to said face until Colt started bringing you up almost just as often as his little brother. But I’m a good listener.”

He smiles, repeating your name with a soft smile as if testing out the sound of it.

“It’s a pretty name. Suits you. I try and keep things professional at the compound. Lots of eyes and ears. Granted there’s definitely a few in this place right now, but we don’t have to worry about them.”

You lift your head with a start, eyes scanning the bar, all a sea of patrons with worn clothes and grey armbands. None of them stand out as being particularly unique. None accept the man with the red around his arm seated across from you. He sticks out like a vibrant wine stain against white cotton, and though the patrons know better than to stare, you catch them sneaking “coincidental” glances his way.

Their eyes rest on him, then flicker away to observe the much less interesting rest of the bar as if it’s merely chance that they managed to get caught looking.

You let your gaze wander over all the faces in the crowd, trying to see who he might be referring to. To see who could be watching.

“Shit, could you be a little less obvious, sweetheart?”

The sudden affectionate name has your heart flutter in your chest in a way you absolutely were not expecting, and as you turn your gaze back to him, an embarrassed flush creeping its way across your cheeks, you see his smirk grow. He’s smug, but you suppose he has all the reason in the world to be, with all his accomplishments.

Zeke, you thankfully come to realize as your conversation progresses, is not here to report you to the higher ups for something or another, nor does it seem that anyone in the bar is particularly interested in your chatter.

You do, however, find that Zeke Yeager is not only a very powerful presence, but that he’s very handsome. It was something you didn’t particularly notice at the compound, mostly because you tried to avoid being in the way of your superiors in the warrior unit, but also because the stories you’d heard of the beast titan’s strength painted the man as a brute.

Instead, you find yourself enthralled by him. He has beautiful hair, and his beard is kept very nicely trimmed. The way his grey eyes light up when he learns you two share a similar taste in novels has your breath catching in your throat.

You list off your recent reads, only to find that he’s also read most everything on the list. He says he’s an avid reader, especially when they ship him out. It helps him keep his mind off of the fighting to think of smaller problems than wars.

“I couldn’t put it down.”

You find yourself raving about your latest literary obsession.

“The way the whole town just watched her descent into madness was so painful to read, but I wanted to know why they hated her in the first place so badly.”

You have long since finished your drink, but the conversation with Zeke ensures that you absolutely do not want any more. The last thing you want to do is slur your speech in a conversation about your shared interests, and especially not when those interests are shared by a very handsome man.

“The reveal of how her daughter was framed had me glued to every word. And the ending!” He leans back in his seat, like he’s processing it all over again just speaking about it.

“Lighting the whole town on fire… they say revenge is a dish best served cold, but reading about her walking through the burning streets…”

“Brilliant.”

His smile is captivating.

You remind yourself that this man is an honorary Marleyan, and you are just a regular Eldian who is lucky enough to have enough pocket change at the end of the month to even buy those novels.

But for as much as Zeke insists that you are well known at the compound for being a great conversationalist, you find that the same compliments the Grice boys have paid to you apply tenfold to him. You don’t want to stop talking.

When the bar closes, you don’t say your goodbyes and head home. Instead, you find yourself continuing your conversation in the streets of Liberio, walking the cobblestone roads at what must be at least two in the morning. Your conversation never has a single slow moment.

You don’t think the slightly intimidated feeling you get while next to him will ever fully subside. He is, after all, much larger than you, and you feel dwarfed by him as you walk side by side, looking up at his handsome face. You’ve switched conversation topics through nearly a dozen different novels now, and your ideas bounce off one another perfectly.

He mutters how your theory about a plot twist and it’s possible connection to the yet unreleased next book in the series might be one of the best ideas he’s heard, and his little smile while he does so is captivating.

“You’d serve better as a critic than a cleaner, you know.” He says with a laugh.

And you smile, because for a moment, by Zeke’s side, you almost forget it’s Liberio’s streets that you’re walking, and that you can’t hope to aim too high. All that exists for now is the two of you, and the words you share.

As you walk under the lamplight through deserted streets, you take notice of the way he scratches his ear when he’s thinking, but more specifically your eyes fixate on his hands themselves. They’re big, and you purse your lips imagining how little your hands would be in his. He admittedly dresses like an old man, and while his wardrobe is nothing fancy, it doesn’t hide his impressive stature.

His broad shoulders and military status imply an impressive body under the loose fitting coat he wears, and you feel like a repressed schoolgirl just looking at the exposed skin of his neck and how the muscles there tense when you bring up some narrative choice or another that you both didn’t enjoy. Your cheeks flush as you watch him take a drag of his cigarette, holding it between two thick fingers.

He seems to take notice of your stares, but says nothing to discourage you. In return, you catch him eyeing you a few times too, but unlike you, he doesn’t get flustered when you notice him clearly staring.

It’s still fairly chilly out, and your warm coat doesn’t do your body any favors, but that doesn’t stop his glances.

When the two of you cross a bridge, you find yourself staring up at the moon and how it’s surface reflects on the wide river below. Zeke leans over the rail, taking yet another drag of his cigarette, and you cautiously reach out a hand to his. He makes no move to shift away from you as you lock your arm in his.

You continue your walk like that, the feeling of closeness making you far more flustered than you should be. It’s only proper for a man to escort a lady by the hand when it’s so late. But you’re no lady, you’re a maid. And Zeke’s glances are growing far from proper, even as the topic remains firmly on literature.

When he invites you up to his apartment to see his books, you both know you won’t be doing any actual reading. But you let him lead you through the streets and up countless flights of stairs regardless.

He turns the key in the lock, and you enter, following his lead in kicking off your boots and hanging up your coat by a hook on the wall. You barely have time to take in how nicely furnished the home of an honorary Marleyan is before he has you pressed against the door, closing it shut with the weight of both of your bodies against it.

You gasp at the impact, and run your fingers through his soft blond locks as he presses his lips to yours in an open mouthed and greedy kiss. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot against you as he pulls away.

“Do you want to-?”

“Yes. God, yes.” You pull at his coat, hoping he’ll get the message, and he does.

He shrugs it off, and then his lips are against yours again. Your touch traces down along his back, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt until it comes untucked from his pants and you can slide your hands underneath it, feeling the warmth of his skin.

He fumbles with the buttons of your own blouse, before tearing it off of your shoulders as he unfastens the last one, and you can hear his breath catch in his throat as his hands move to touch you.

His mouth parts from yours to get an eyeful of your body, his fingers trace the edge of your bra, watching how your chest heaves against the constraints of the lacey garment with every breath. He groans, the sound guttural in his throat, and fuck, you need him. He brings his lips to your neck, kissing and biting his way down to your collarbone.

“Can we please get this thing off?” His thumbs hook at the straps of your bra.

“Marley’s greatest warrior can’t figure out how to unhook a bra?” You smile as you reach for the clasps.

“Bigger things on the mind right now, sweetheart.” His tongue runs against a spot at the base of your neck that his teeth just bit at, soothing the skin.

“Oh?” You drop your bra to the ground, and he is quick to grab a handful of your breasts, teasing lightly over your nipples. You moan as he slides his hands down your torso, stopping as he gets a handful of your ass, kneading at it with a grin.

“You enjoying yourself there?”

He hums as he presses you further against him and lifts. You let out a startled whimper, your legs wrapping around his hips and hiking up your long skirt in the process. He lifts his head from your neck and looks down at you, hunger in his grey eyes.

“Trying to figure out if I can even get you to the bedroom, or if I’m gonna have to fuck you right here against the wall.”

Zeke grinds his hips against yours, and through your soaked panties you can feel him strain against his trousers. He’s so horny it hurts, and he hisses at the little bit of contact, bucking against you.

“Fuck, baby, need you to decide.”

“B-bed.” You wrap your arms tighter around him and wiggle your hips just enough to get more of that delicious friction. Zeke doesn’t have to be told twice as he carries you to his bedroom and practically throws you into his mattress. It’s soft as a cloud, and you feel yourself sink into it, pulling your skirt from your hips, letting it fall in a pool at the edge of the bed.

Still situated at the side of Zeke’s massive king size bed, you spread your legs, your stockings and your panties all that’s left on you. You circle your clit through the fabric, and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, his eyes fixed on your clothed pussy like a hungry animal. He makes quick work of his own clothes, undoing the buttons of his shirt and stepping out of his trousers, stripping to his boxers.

Your cheeks flush as you take in the sight of his bare chest. He’s toned in the way only a warrior could be, and there’s a small dusting of blonde hair that trails from his bellybutton to somewhere below his waistband. He towers over you, imposing and arousing at the same time. He looks like a marble statue, beautiful and powerful and perfect. You can see the outline of his bulge against the grey fabric of his underclothes, and he palms himself lazily, his eyes clouded with lust behind his glasses.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

You scoff. “Could say the same thing to you.”

He smirks, and you want nothing more than to kiss him. For a moment it looks like he’s about to do just that. Instead, he sinks to his knees between your legs.

“What are you-?”

“Gotta get you ready for me first, babygirl.” He says, hooking his fingers under your panties and pulling them down, letting you kick them off your legs.

“Are you joking? I’m already soaking, you don’t-“

You’re cut off by the feeling of his hot breath against you.

He runs his fingers against your folds, and you bite your lip before he shoves two thick fingers inside. The noises you make as he hooks them inside you have him painfully hard and straining against his boxers, but he knows what he wants. He pulls his fingers from you, earning him a whimper.

“Fine. I can be transparent here.” He groans as he kisses at your inner thigh. “Just wanna bury my face in your cunt, nothing else to it.”

You whimper as his lips circle your clit, the burn of his beard between your thighs coupled with the feeling of his hot breath against you has him having to hold your hips in place to keep your squirming down.

“Z-Zeke, I-”

“Hm?” He releases your clit from his lips but licks slow stripes up between your folds now.

“Too much.”

He teases the tip of his tongue against your hole, his moans the only response. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he pushes it inside of you. His mouth works against you, making you grind against his face.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so good…”

He’s a madman as he devours your cunt, and you have full confidence that Zeke could make you cum with just his tongue. Instead, he opts to do otherwise, spurred on by the delicious sounds you’re making. You cry out as he circles his lips back around your clit and plunges two thick fingers inside of you.

You can barely think as he curls them into you, fucking his fingers into your weeping cunt while his tongue laps at your clit.

“I’m- I can’t-”

“You can.” He adds a third finger, and the stretch is so food, so filling, as he watches you fall apart. “Good girl, my pretty little slut, come on.”

His tongue never ceases for long, even as he speaks. “Come for me.”

You’re falling apart under his touch, cries and moans spilling out of your mouth as you cum into his. You clamp your thighs down around his head as he keeps fucking his fingers into you, running his tongue desperately against your little bud as you writhe beneath him, only stopping when he feels he’s had his fill of your taste.

He lifts himself up and pushes you further into the bed, letting your head rest on the pillows as he leans on his side next to you.

“You’re a quiet little thing whenever I pass you in the compound. Never knew you could be that loud.”

You’re panting, still coming down from your orgasm.

“Never been fucked in the compound.”

“We can change that.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whine. “Can we start with here first?”

His beard is wet with your slick as he grips your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and you moan as you tug at the waistband of his boxers.

You remove your lips from his to look down at the shape of him, still straining against the fabric.

“Zeke, please…”

He sits up on his knees at the end of the bed, hovering over you, thumbs toying at the elastic.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”

Your little nod is all he needs, pulling his boxers off. You watch as his hard cock springs free of confinement and slaps itself against his stomach. It’s big, and you’re practically drooling at the sight. He crawls over you, lining himself up with your hole, rubbing the tip over your clit. He smirks, watching how you whine and writhe at his teasing.

“You have to beg for it, sweetheart. Let me know how much you want it.”

He fists his cock, leaking precum all over your slit as he drags the head up and down your folds.

“Fuck, Zeke, please fuck me. Need you so bad, just please...”

He grips your hips hard, lines himself up with your hole, and bottoms out in one quick thrust.

You moan and he curses under his breath. It’s so much, all at once. The stretch is much more than his fingers prepared you for, and it’s overwhelming, even with how wet you are. It’s a little painful, but it hurts so good.

“F-fuck, move, fuck me, please. Please, please, please, please.”

He pants into your shoulder as he follows your request. Zeke grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head, kissing and sucking at your neck, leaving little purple marks.

“So pretty like this, letting me fill you up so good. Gonna leave my mark everywhere I can on you. You gonna come to work with your neck all marked up from me? Huh?”

You pant and grind your hips against his as he pistons in and out of you. “Y-yes.”

“Gonna advertise to every soldier there that you’re mine? My little whore? You like being fucked like this?” He pulls back out all the way, only to thrust back in at just the right angle that has you seeing stars.

“Yes!”

“You know how long I’ve thought about this? Wanted to just p-pull you into a supply closet and fuck you til you forgot your own name, ‘cuz hell, I didn’t even know it back then, but now…”

He traces his hand down to your clit, and starts to rub circles against it.

“You’re perfect, you know that? F-Fuck... Perfect for me. Fit me so good, god, you’re so tight.”

“Zeke, s’too good, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too. Come for me, it’s ok.”

He captures your lips in a hungry kiss, and the closeness is not enough and too much all at once. You can’t tell where he begins and you end and suddenly your orgasm is washing over you in waves as you scream his name. Your arms struggle against his grip and he relents as you cream around his cock. You grab at his back, nails sinking hard into the skin, and you swear he’s letting off steam as your fingers scratch down his back in ecstasy.

Zeke fucks you through it, thumb still playing with your clit as he hammers into you, hips snapping against yours at a rhythm much less even than before.

“Beautiful. So fucking beautiful with my name on your lips and my cock in your cunt.”

You whine, still barely coherent and too fuckdrunk to think as he pounds you hard enough to make the bedframe creak and the headboard slam against the wall.

“G-good girl, you like being a good little-fuck- good little cocksleeve for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck.”

You’re so overstimulated it hurts. He keeps hitting just the right spot, and while he’s still toying with your sensitive nub, you can tell he can barely hold his focus. He removes his fingers from you and buries his head in your shoulder. His beard is rough against your skin as he lets out a few last thrusts into your cunt, his grip on your hips enough to bruise.

Zeke pulls out and fists himself a few more times, panting before he empties his load on top of you, white ropes of cum shooting out of him as he finishes onto your stomach. Zeke collapses, panting, by your side. He pulls you against him and kisses the top of your head.

You practically purr at the affectionate gesture, and lean into his touch.

He sighs, removes his glasses, and carefully places them on the bedside table, relaxing into the comfort of the bed.

His eyes are closed, and as you snuggle closer to him, you can feel his heartbeat slowly start to return to normal along with your own.

“I think now’s the time I should ask where your bathroom is so I can clean off?” You breathe out, tracing figure eights lazily against the muscles of his chest.

He lets out a tired laugh. “You’re not at work. No cleaning right now. You can afford to be a little messy for a while.”

You hum, unwilling to admit you’re fine either way. You guiltily realize you enjoy the feeling of his cum on your skin, and, instead of admitting that embarrassing thought, you kiss him again.

You whisper against his jaw. “I should go home soon, just-”

He claims your lips in his again to shut you up. “Stay.”

You lay by his side on the same pillow, faces inches from eachother.

That night, you stay. You fall asleep in his arms, and everything somehow feels right. He feels right.

You hate going home to your shitty apartment after that. And Zeke hates seeing you go.

Every week you repeat it all like routine.

Zeke is always there at the pub. You always end up in an endless conversation before following him home, and leaving the next morning to prepare for your afternoon shift.

It only takes one month of this torture for him to ask you to move in.

“Would make it easier. Better than me pretending it’s a coincidence I’m there almost every time you have a day off.” He mutters into your shoulder, as he holds you close.

It’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made.

You laugh at how his beard tickles your skin, pressing yourself further into him, to which he responds by wrapping an arm around you tighter and smiling that smug grin against your skin as you card your fingers through his blond locks and whisper “I figured it wasn’t a coincidence by the third time it happened.”

He kisses you, and cradles your cheek in the palm of his hand. For what feels like the hundredth and the first time, you drift off to sleep in his arms.

You never return to your old apartment, even to grab your things. Zeke has the same books as you, and his bed always was nicer. He buys you much better clothes to make up for what little loss of wardrobe you went through.

You can’t aim too high in Liberio. But with him, you feel like you’ve started over on a clean slate.

And for a time, though you never put a name on it, Zeke Yeager is yours.

#zeke x reader #zeke yeager x reader #me strolling into aot reader fic tumblr like hello I am new in town #I wrote this in an insomniac daze #aot x reader #snk x reader #this will have a plot later but for now I am just sitting here hoping it's both comprehensible and people will like it

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crystalessenceswrites · 3 years

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Shadows- Chapter Four

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dark themes, death of unnamed and background characters, descriptions of blood, descriptions of a dead body Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] Cross-posted to AO3

Why was it always vampires?

It seemed like the bounty lists were chalk full of them these days, more so than normal. Which was not awful for slayers. They were generally high paying jobs, considering most of them were wanted for the murder of the humans or cryptos they’d been feeding on. You just preferred to stay away from the fangs. The superhuman abilities of a well-fed vampire were difficult to match in a fight, even for seasoned slayers. While you had the training and equipment to deal with them, the bounty was not always worth the medical bills after the fact. You specialized in the kinds of bounties that were more brains than brawn. Preferring the chase over the actual fight. Today you did not have much of a choice, apparently. You’d come into the office later in the morning and arrived to find all the new non-vampiric bounties had been promptly snatched up by the early birds. Leaving you stuck with the fangs. Great.

Your target was a vampire named Qin. He was active and was not doing much of anything to cover it up. A serious threat to everyone if left unattended to. The urgency in needing to deal with someone like him had bumped his bounty up fairly high, even for the usual vampire fair. There were plenty of breadcrumbs to follow, making your afternoon much easier. He was holed up in the old industrial district during the day. Most of the old neighborhood was being retrofitted for industrial lofts and modern condos, so there would be plenty of construction sites and condemned buildings for him to hide in and a steady stream of workers to pick off for food. Sightings and intelligence had his location narrowed down to a three-block radius. The was all easy enough. Killing him would be another story.

Vampires did not have any one magic bullet weakness- they aren’t susceptible to iron or silver- making them harder to handle. Staking one through the head or heart was usually the best way to incapacitate one, until their body was burned and ashes were scattered. That required getting closer than you were comfortable with. The last thing you wanted was a fanged creature with arms reach of your neck. You really should have just taken the day off. Too bad your landlord never took a day off when it came time to collect your rent.

Starting with the largest warehouse on the southside and moving north until you got lucky, or rather unlucky, enough to run into your bounty, seemed the best course of action. And today kept proving to be an unlucky day for you. You’d barely broken into the first building when you came across two completely drained corpses left out in the open, bodies still cooling. Your bounty was here and full of fresh blood.

Well shit.

Sword drawn you continue to sneak through the abounded building. Vampires were natural predators; their sense of smell was leagues above your own. It was more than likely he already knew you were here-unless he was occupied with another victim. That must have been the case, considering he hadn’t jumped out at you yet. On high alert you continue farther into the warehouse with a white-knuckle grip on your weapon. The main body of the building is split into two storage areas, the first dark in the overcast afternoon and empty. There are signs someone’s been around, a mattress and blankets in a corner, duffle bags and a pile of dark clothes next to a tower of take-out boxes. Odd.

You drop to the floor as the crack of a gunshot splits the silence. Mind reeling you wonder what vampire needs a fucking gun. Another scan of the space confirms you’re still alone, no shooter in sight. It must have come from the next room, too loud to have been outside the building. As you approach the partition the familiar metallic sting of fresh blood reaches your nose. Vampires don’t bleed.

Three more shots ring out, definitely from the other side of the partition.

Vampire’s don’t use guns.

Another deep breath draws more of the scents in, the dust and mildew of the building, the spark of gun powder and the overwhelming musk of human. Your bounty was not alone and wasn’t with anyone friendly. It wasn’t another slayer- once a bounty gets picked up its pulled off the lists- and most slayers didn’t smell so strongly of human, so the next logical assumption was a lone hunter. Not that it would have been hard for any human to pick up on this vampire’s trail, but if it had been law enforcement to find him the building would be flooded with cops.

You truly had the worst luck today.

Odds were probably one to four against the hunter. Humans rarely stood a chance against vampires unless they caught one out in sunlight.

A loud crash, like something heavy collapsing, shakes the silence. As a slayer you’re obligated to help the human but considering all that’s gone on in the last few weeks you’re feeling much less inclined to do so.

“Come on Mando! I thought you freaks were proud warriors and all!”

Fucking hell. Kira was right, you are a Mando magnet. The vampire’s taunt is not reassuring in the slightest. You did not need a dead Mando on your hands. Creeping into the next room you’re quick to find cover behind some dust covered work benches. Surveying the space leads you to believe the Mando and Qin have been at a while. The space is trashed, boxes toppled over and crushed, shelves up ended, and bullet holes are scattered throughout the space.

The Mando’s back is to you at the moment while he and the vampire stare each other down. You don’t need to see his face to know who you’re dealing with; you’d been on the look out for this particular mop of curls since your last run-in. How was he everywhere you needed to be? Why couldn’t you shake him?

He suddenly springs into action again, drawing the spear he’d been carrying on his back, swinging it in a wide arch at the vampire. Qin’s too fast and easily dodges the attack before going in for his own, trying to get within arm’s reach. Mando doesn’t let him, blocking each attack with deadly precision. Neither gives in, pushing back against the other, jumping around the other in attempt to land a hit.

You’re hesitant to say you’re impressed by Mando, but only out of spite. He moves like a well-oiled machine, despite not having the upper hand he does not give up control of the fight to his undead opponent. This is the most dressed down you’ve seen him, baring the silver tac vest over a dark colored shirt. You can safely assume its beskar, the metal harnessed solely by the Mandalorians. Just one of the things that made then unique to other hunters. As he circles around Qin you catch sight of blood dripping down his sharp jaw, the hair just above his ear dark and matted with it. He’d taken a pretty serious hit already.

Now you really had to help him.

This was the kind of opportunity you never had when dealing with vampires. Qin’s attention was solely focused on the hunter. There was no indication from either that they’d noticed your silent arrival. You had one shot with the element of surprise, and you needed to make it count. If you could incapacitate Qin, stun him long enough for you and Mando to finish the job you could make it out of here in one piece. Mando in close to one piece.

Although there was no magic bullet for vampires, a bullet wound did still require time and energy to heal. Even though vampires and the like were technically “undead,” they still felt and registered pain to some degree, meaning bullets also provided a certain shock factor. You lose the sword, reaching for your thigh holster instead. While you were not a fan of guns, you weren’t willing to risk a fight with a vampire for your pride. You always came prepared when dealing with a bloodsucker.

Qin and Mando continue to circle each other in their tense dance. Despite the dark look in both their eyes, Qin has a smug smirk plastered across his face, probably under the impression he was going to be having a Mandalorian for lunch. Too bad you couldn’t allow it. All you needed was a clear shot. You mentally will Mando to put some distance between him and the bloodsucker, as if that would actually work.

Your breath catches in your throat as Mando sweeps his spear in another wide arc, forcing Qin back. Maybe you were lucky today after all. The moment Qin lands back on his feet, far enough away from the hunter, you jump out from your cover and take the shot, tagging Qin in the temple.

Damn good shot.

Mando jumps as Qin’s body crumples to the ground, face drawing together in confusion. That feeling akin to satisfaction returns. You could get the jump on him and a vampire. Third time would not be his charm, you are sure of it. You would not let it.

His brain catches up with the situation and he swings around, staff pointed at you as you vault over the workbench. Next comes the recognition, his jaw dropping just a bit at your sudden materialization. You’re thankful his first reaction isn’t to attack as you’re quick to re-holster your gun.

“Focus Mando,” you quip, directing your attention back to the vampire beginning to move on the floor.

“Fuck!” Qin curses, already starting to come back to it. That seemed too quick, even for a recently fed vampire.

Mando snaps into action, kicking Qin down before his spear finds its way through the vampire’s rib cage. Judging by the ear-splitting screech Qin let’s out, Mando found his mark, staking Qin where he lays. Mando does not move as you approach with sword in hand. He does not move as you bring your blade to rest on the bounty’s neck.

“You have one chance to surrender or I collect the bounty on your head, Qin.”

“You bitch!” He snarls, thrashing around the pole shoved through his torso. “Working with a Mando, that’s low- even for a slayer!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“See you in hell one day, bitch.”

Smug even in death. Ugh. You don’t feel much as you chop his off with one swift swing. Not after you saw those two innocents on your way in. People like him were the exact reason humans called your kind monsters.

“Sunny disposition on that one,” you grumble, stepping back from Mando and the decapitated bounty. The hunter doesn’t even offer you a curtesy laugh. Stick in the mud.

“Why are you here?”

He doesn’t bother to hide the suspicion. Did he think you were following him now? That was rich.

“Doing my job. I took on the bounty for this one.” Pulling your messenger bag off, you begin to organize your supplies, “which I’d like to finish up if you have no objections.”

Mando just steps back, leaning against his staff. You can feel the weight of his gaze boring into you while you work. His eyes tracking your every move, detailing each item you pull from your clean up kit. You didn’t spot any bag of his lying around, you wonder how he had been planning on dealing with the body.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Why did you help me?”

Questions, questions.

“You let us go last time- I owed you for that at least,” you shrug. Now you were even. Well, as even as you could be with a human Mandalorian.

He’s silent for a moment, watching as you pull a few jars and a water bottle out of the bag. One contains a small collection of thistle bulbs. Mando doesn’t ask but you can see the curiosity growing as you stick the sharp plants into the vampire’s wounds.

“Vampires are weak to thistle, introduce it into the body and it halts their healing abilities. Aloe vera works too, it’s just not as flammable.

“Aloe vera and thistles?”

You chuckle, “what, did you think garlic would work?”

Mando scoffs, his sharp eye still following your hands. Next comes the burning of the body. You want to get that done as quick as possible. Thistle was not an end all weakness and even decapitated vampires could regenerate. You douse the body and head in gasoline from the water bottle.

“Light?”

Eyebrows raised you gingerly take the lighter he offers, catching the edge of Qin’s shirt with the flame. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the corpse to catch. The flames cast shadows over the Mandalorian’s face as you watch him from the corner of your eye. The air is heavy between you and not with the smell of burning flesh.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to let him kill me?”

“Why would I want that?” Had he not come to the realization that you couldn’t kill him?

“You get rid of nuisances, right? So one of you will have to kill me eventually.”

It takes all your will power to not burst out laughing. There was no way he was getting anything from an inside informant if that’s what he thought slayers did. You had this Mando pinned down about as wrong as he had you figured out. No wonder no one had been able to find a turn coat when one didn’t exist to begin with.

“I don’t know where you’re getting your info, but you need to find a different source. Trust me. As much as most slayers want to get rid of hunters, we can’t without very good reasons. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be any better than the ones we hunt.”

He quirks an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, “so what? You’re just monsters hunting other monsters?”

“One,” you hold up a finger, “we use the term crypto.”

“Crypto? Like cryptid?”

“Where do you think humans got the word from?”

Mando scoffs at that but doesn’t press.

“Two, most of us don’t actually qualify as cryptos. Slayers are primarily half-bloods.”

You revel in the confusion on his face. Never did you think you would find yourself completely altering a Mandalorian’s understanding of the world. This was priceless.

Why were you telling him all this?

“Half-bloods?”

“You know, half human?”

“That’s possible?”

Now you cannot hold back the laugh this time, “human genetics are surprisingly adaptable.”

A look of disgust washes over his face and your heart drops.

“I just want you to know we’re not so different… our job is to stop those who hurt or take advantage of humans, to stop those who threaten to expose us. I imagine that’s not so different from what Mandalorians want…” after all, they couldn’t want to kill you all, could they?

#fic: Shadows #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #modern au #enemies to lovers #monsters and monster hunters #fanfiction #chapter four #crystalessences writes

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maverick-werewolf · 4 years

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Modern Dragon Designs - Where they came from

Your regularly scheduled werewolf facts will return soon. For now, we provide this special, because you may not realize this, but I love dragons. There’s a reason one of my protagonists is basically obsessed with dragons.

Once upon a time, there was a movie - I don’t see anyone talk about it, I’m not even sure how many people are familiar with it...

It’s called Reign of Fire.

This movie shaped the modern Hollywoodian concept of dragons. Seriously, it did. Hear me out.

Released in 2002, Reign of Fire was a movie about - essentially - dragons as that age-old trope of “let’s take one monster and turn them into an overpopulated zombie plague so we can use them to tell a story about humans and make the monster just this brainless evil locust swarm backdrop.” This has happened to a lot of monsters by now.

But wait, these dragons aren’t like the dragons you might be used to: these dragons were completely redesigned from the ground up by the filmmaker(s) in order to make a more “realistic” and “animalistic” dragon that was acceptable by Hollywood, who generally views “dragon movies” (like so many other fantasy things...) as cheesy and silly. Market your movie as a film about dragons and you probably won’t get a deal. Well, turns out, coming up with your own gritty dragon designs worked!

Doesn’t this remind you of every other dragon you’ve seen in a movie for the last, you know, 18 years? Although it actually looks quite a bit cooler than those other ones that came after it

Please note that while I may sound sarcastic, jaded, and often maybe a bit scathing, I mean nothing against the creators of Reign of Fire or director Rob Bowman. I watched the movie in theaters when it released. I applaud Bowman for coming up with unique and interesting dragon designs, in order to have a different take on the creatures, so that they fit the story he wanted to tell, instead of doing what so many people do and completely co-opting concepts without trying to alter them to fit anything and... yeah... okay, I’m not going to talk about werewolf things in this post. Getting back on track:

What I don’t applaud is everyone ripping off Reign of Fire for their own dragons, doubly so because most of these people didn’t even take into account the reasons why it was designed that way. They should have left his dragons alone and come up with their own thing, but at least I guess Bowman can go down in history as the man who designed every Hollywood dragon for over a decade to come - with no signs of stopping - even down to the tail shape.

On Vice, you can find an article and interview with Rob Bowman, the director of Reign of Fire, discussing how he came up with this dragon design and how influential it has become. I highly recommend giving it a read.

Please note the Vice article is clearly written with the bias of someone who “can’t take dragons seriously,” so it’s also a good look at the Hollywood mindset about dragons and how much Hollywood treats fantasy in general like garbage (jerks).

It’s impossible to pretend this movie didn’t basically reshape modern dragons. Let’s get to the details...

Animalistic Design

Dragons in popular culture are generally - or at least they were generally - assumed to be powerful, intelligent creatures, often of a higher nature than humans and other mere mortals. They may be good or evil, but one can’t understate that traditional fantasy dragons are regal and majestic either way.

Reign of Fire wanted to usurp the majestic, intelligent dragon image, creating a smaller, hunched, knuckle-dragging sort of dragon that looks more like an animal - like a pteranodon. This is because the dragons in Reign of Fire are not exceptionally intelligent, noble beings that speak and hoard gold and have the wisdom of the ages. They are brutal hunters that set things on fire and eat everything smaller than them. So this design choice was a conscious one and a smart one.

The dragons in Reign of Fire are meant to be more scientific, more plausible, and also simpler, in a manner of speaking. They are not colorful, magical, ancient fantasy dragons...

Trouble is, everyone took cues from this design for their talking wise noble fantasy dragons, and it... doesn’t really work, at least if you ask me.

The dragon design in Reign of Fire looks like an ancestral throwback, an evolutionary ancestor to the intelligent, talking fantasy dragon, although they are smaller. They’re hunched, they haven’t evolved forelegs independent of their wings... you get the idea. Take a look at the “proto-drakes” in World of Warcraft versus the ordinary drakes, which have tiny dangly T-rex forelegs that haven’t fully developed yet, so they walk like the Reign of Fire dragons.

A proto-drake in World of Warcraft - also say hi to my worgen warrior

So many things taking this design for their intelligent, “higher being” dragons seems kind of... odd to me, to say the least. Unfortunately, Hollywood decided that’s the only way moviegoers can “take dragons seriously,” so here we are.

“Wyvern” - Two Legs vs Four

Municipal arms of Stjørdal, Norway

In medieval heraldry, there came to be a creature called a wyvern. Now, the etymology on the term “wyvern” is a little shaky. It originally didn’t specifically refer to a “two-legged dragon.” It is thought to mean/be derived from words meaning anything ranging from “asp” to “light javelin,” and essentially boils down to a flying serpent. It is noteworthy, of course, that the word “dragon” basically just means “serpent” too.

In heraldry, though, “wyvern” came to refer to a two-legged dragon - at least, if you ask the English, Scottish, and Irish; elsewhere in Europe, they may not be so picky. And now, in modern pop culture (such as Dungeons and Dragons), we often use it in the same sense.

Wyverns weren’t really a “thing” in folklore, just as dragons in folklore didn’t look like our modern idea of a dragon. It’s debatable whether the father of our modern concept of dragons, Fafnir (from whom Tolkien drew inspiration for Smaug), even had wings at all; he was essentially a serpent, perhaps with legs. Point is, wyverns come from heraldry, especially the specificity of two legs versus four.

So now you know why you might see a lot of people (myself included) referring to this design as a “wyvern design” for a dragon.

Dull Coloration - Grey and Brown over Red, Blue, Green...

There’s something else - something very important - that Hollywood took from Reign of Fire... the concept that dragons aren’t pretty colors and are, in fact, various hues of grey and brown, and any more contrasting colors are just vague indications instead of bright red scales.

Now, Reign of Fire obviously did this because - again - they were going for the more animalistic, natural look as opposed to the mysterious majestic magical being look. Okay, that’s fine. But then Hollywood decided that fantasy, too, has to be devoid of dragons with bright colors.

The green dragon in Game of Thrones

There are countless examples of this in modern media. Any dragon that was previously brightly colored has been dulled pretty much to an extreme. Sometimes you might catch a fleeting glimpse of them looking like a brighter shade, but it was probably just a trick of the light. Why? Because all dragons are desaturated to the point of being almost indistinguishable by color.

The golden dragon in The Witcher Netflix series

This is also why you see so many mods on the Skyrim Nexus called things like “true red dragon.”

There are plenty more examples of this - I’m sure you can see the difference when you look at those dragons and other modern film dragons over, say, something like this...

Red dragon in D&D

And now we move on to...

The Fire Breathing - Chemicals, not Magic

Bowman insisted on ditching traditional fire breathing (you don't want the audience wondering whether the dragon's mouth is being burnt up with every flame) and again looked to the animal kingdom for inspiration. The king cobra, once again, was a great starting point. It doesn't spray fire, but it can spit its venom. Even more useful was the bombardier beetle, which shoots two chemicals from its abdomen that, once mixed, create a hot, burning spray. Bowman used these real-world examples to inspire his own dragons. They don't breathe fire exactly, but rather spit chemicals from two different sacks in their mouths that, when combined, ignite. "That's anatomy. That's already been designed, so we're going to draw from there," he said.

(quoted from the Vice article linked to earlier in this post)

The Hungarian Horntail in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - fire is streaming from two separate organs in the mouth, but they aren’t chemicals mixing together like in Reign of Fire...

The director of Reign of Fire wanted his dragons to be more natural in that they breathe fire through organic means, based on chemical reactions, instead of the usual dragon magic. But lots of people loved this “mouth flap”/”mouth organ” design with “streams” of fire coming from the mouth instead of fire flowing directly from the dragon’s throat, so now you see it pretty dang often.

Horns? Brow Ridges!

Another thing that is basically out now in dragon designs is the real horns of many traditional dragons, like Spyro, and like the dragons in Dungeons & Dragons used to have.

These days, it’s all about brow ridges and big spiny scales that aren’t separate horns, they’re just big pointed scales or piles of scales or bone ridges - and they aren’t a different color than the dragon’s scales, either, pretty often. And, in general, dragon’s horns have become much smaller and far more numerous, and more like spines/ridges, as opposed to the great, sweeping horns of classical dragons.

Firkraag, the red dragon, in the D&D video game Baldur’s Gate II, from 2000

Firkraag is a very traditional dragon. Now, while Dungeons & Dragons has generally kept more traditional dragons (yay!), they did fall into the brow ridge horn thing - although they, thankfully, didn’t make the horns smaller and subtler and more numerous little spikes, like so many other modern dragon designs. They also went with the brow ridge horns for tieflings (once humans with demon blood, then some weird thing in 4E, and now I think they’re humans with demon blood again), as opposed to the ordinary horns of the tieflings in previous editions of D&D.

Skyrim dragon head concept art

The Desolation of Smaug(’s design)

Here is... a big one. Here, we’ll talk some about the production of The Hobbit films over time, so we’re going behind the scenes.

Alright, so we all know Smaug, probably, by pop culture osmosis if nothing else. He is the quintessential dragon. He’s basically the founder of all Western dragon concepts: he’s big, he’s red, he hoards gold, he’s extremely intelligent and talks, etc. You get the picture. Every dragon that we have borrowed at least something from Smaug. And, in turn, he was inspired by Fafnir, the father of all our dragon concepts, from Norse mythology - but Tolkien took it all a step further and created the concept of dragons that we have today. Or, well, the not Reign of Fire ones. The fantasy ones.

A map drawn by Tolkien: notice the winged, four-legged Smaug over his mountain

During the first Hobbit movie, An Unexpected Journey, we see Smaug attack the Lonely Mountain...

In this clip, you can plainly see that Smaug has four legs. This was actually edited slightly for later editions of the movie, or so I’ve heard (I haven’t watched any later editions).

I can tell you for certain that when I saw the theatrical release, it was like this, too. It is apparent throughout the scene that Smaug has four legs and wings, separately. I know because I was paying very, very close attention, because I was going to be very upset if Hollywood turned Smaug into a wyvern.

Well, they did - later.

Smaug the wyvern looking like just another slightly different take on the bog-standard Hollywood dragon

Apparently, some studio exec decided that having a traditional fantasy dragon, even if this dragon happens to be frelling Smaug himself, would not be okay in this modern Hollywood world. So we ended up with a dull reddish spiney hunching knuckle-dragging wyvern with an angler mouth (I’m sorry; I really am sorry if you like the design, that’s totally fine, it’s a fine design, I am glad you enjoyed it, but Smaug shouldn’t have looked that way IMO and forgive me but I am still in pain over it) in place of a more traditional dragon that held more to things like, I dunno, how Tolkien himself drew Smaug. Smaug’s movie design flies right in the face of that and destroyed our chance to finally see a proper traditional dragon done justice on the big screen.

Tolkien’s art of Smaug - note the position of the forelegs, separate from the wings, like in the earlier map

This is all just one big example why we should be thankful that The Lord of the Rings films were all shot in one go, so no one could alter important things like the design of the fantasy genre’s father of all dragons, in the middle of production. Of course, the production on The Hobbit movies was a nightmare at best, as you can read about in assorted other articles, and Peter Jackson was very unhappy with what the studio had him do to the series. All of that is just another story, I suppose.

Dragons Redesigned by Reign of Fire: Example List

Now that we’ve gone over just a few of the talking points about Reign of Fire’s dragon designs (although I didn’t even get into the flat, spaded tail look in detail), here’s an undoubtedly incomplete list of several examples that have either entirely taken the design and/or were massively influenced by it...

(please note that not everything in this list held entirely to Reign of Fire’s design, obviously; some have the fire, some don’t; some have horns, some have head/brow ridges; but all of them are wyverns and most are darkly-colored)

Skyrim - Obvious influence with the general design, skin/scales and ridges design, as well as coloration; however, it is noteworthy that the Elder Scrolls has had dragons with no forelegs since at least 1998, in the game Redguard - though that dragon was also very brightly-colored (also of note: Peryite, while technically a Daedric prince and not a dragon, had four legs at least as far back as Daggerfall in 1996)

The Hobbit films, specifically The Desolation of Smaug onward - as mentioned before

Harry Potter movies - Wholesale. Two streams of fire from mouth flaps in Goblet of Fire, generally dull greyish and/or brownish colorations, no forelegs, short/simple horns that are mostly ridges...

Gods of Egypt - The giant fire-breathing cobras have the mouth flaps

Game of Thrones - This one’s pretty obvious too.

Disney’s Maleficent - In the new live action Disney movie(s), the dragon falls right into this design (though the fire doesn’t come from mouth flaps)

Netflix Witcher series - Villentretenmerth is very much a wyvern design and a dull shade, and he in fact has no horns at all, even though dragons weren’t portrayed this way in any previous Witcher adaptations

Stargate SG1 (season 10) - In the episode series “The Quest,” a dragon appears and... well, it looks just like all those other dragons, though the fire does come from its throat.

Beowulf (2008) - I try not to ever talk about or think about this film, but I have to just throw out there that the dragon is very much Reign of Fire, especially with that wyvern design.

Seventh Son - If you can call Malkin a dragon - she was called one, I think - she definitely also has the same kind of dull-colored wyvern design.

Sucker Punch (movie)

Lots and lots of B-movies and direct to DVD/streaming films - Dawn of the Dragonslayer, Dragon (2006), Dragon Crusaders...

Something to note, also, is that cartoons, anime, and other non-film media is mostly - but not entirely - free from this influence. Cartoons especially are free from it, partially because they aren’t influenced by Hollywood producers who want “serious” and “realistic” dragons. Cartoons are allowed to have magical, colorful, four-legged dragons. Unfortunately, we are deprived of those in live action film and television, by and large.

There are still other exceptions - most notably things that were created before this influence, like Dragonheart and its spinoffs and sequels, which have thankfully kept their dragon designs consistent instead of erasing their forelegs.

Of course, why dragons are depicted as four-legged and winged in the first place - and when this depiction arose - is another topic entirely. I’m not going into that right now, seeing as how this post is already preposterously long.

Long story short, I was rewatching the movie Gods of Egypt and, when I saw the giant cobra monsters breathe fire, I was possessed to write this article. Because Reign of Fire’s influence is something I have always noticed ever since its release, and something my brother and I talk about a lot (and everyone who knows me has surely heard me talk about it, too) - because, frankly, it’s always bothered me. My favorite dragons are traditional dragons: four legs, bright colors, wings, horns, breathing fire, the works.

So, although the original creator of these design ideas did something cool and different because he wanted to do his own take on dragons, Hollywood decided that these design cues should be taken to dumb down all dragons forever, the same way that Hollywood has dumbed down so many monster designs so that the only acceptable ones just a bunch of near-replicas of each other, including werewolves.

I think it’s very sad that film producers think you can’t take something like dragons or werewolves seriously unless they are dull, nontraditional, and ugly. And I say ugly in the sense of these are not pretty, majestic fantasy designs - they are, many of them, intended to be ugly. Though I personally also hold the opinion that most of them are ugly regardless of if they are intended to be ugly.

So - now you know! If you haven’t seen Reign of Fire, go check it out to meet the father of modern dragon designs, from the color of their hides to the shape of their bodies, the smaller horns, and - sometimes - even their tails.

(Special thanks to everyone on my discord who helped me compile this list, as well as of course my brother and all our ranting at/with each other on this topic over many years)

If you like this post, maybe you’ll enjoy the rest of my blog, where I post a lot about folklore and all kinds of monsters (especially werewolves)!

Werewolf Facts --- Patreon

#dragons #pop culture #dragon #reign of fire #creature design #folklore #wyvern #wyverns #game of thrones #skyrim #harry potter #the desolation of smaug #the hobbit #movies #film #hollywood #long post #EXTREMELY LONG post

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dddainuhsoar · 4 years

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witch guanshan x warrior hetian

a fic au inspired by a movie that came out recently. you have 3 guesses to guess which movie it is. anyway, incomplete so read at your own risk... ^^

~2k words

traditionally, witches have been women. witches are beautiful women who ensnare their prey, and transform into docile, innocent animals - a fox, a snake, a bird - to escape in times of trouble. rather than being feared for their prowess, witches were revered. their spells brought rain for crops, their charms brought luck (or disaster; it depends which you are looking for) and their ability to convene with creatures proved more useful than horrific.

schools were set up and young girls with talent in magic were sent there to become enchantresses, sorceresses or fairies. after their studies, they were either sent to the imperial city to be part of the emperor’s court or army, or, if they chose, continue their studies to become deities. boys with talent in magic do not exist… unless they do and are incredibly apt at disguisement.

illusion spells, in fact, were the only kind of spells guanshan was any good at. he managed to trick everyone at school that he was a girl, but for what? he was failing at every other category. his parents sent him to study despite their fears that he would be discovered because they believed it would be a waste of his talent if he hadn’t gone. at first, he had thought he had talent in it too. he thought he was special, then he started studying at a school and realised he had overestimated himself.

girls were natural spell-casters. he, even though able to use magic, struggled to conjure even a single droplet of water. some of the instructors were appalled at his lack of ability, even suspected he was not truly a witch, but none ever saw through his illusion. no matter how much he sweated under their watchful gaze, trembled under their inspecting spells, or stuttered under the pressure of their inquisition, they simply never found out. sometimes, guanshan wished they would hurry and expose him already so he could quit this and go home.

after the instructors gave up trying to figure out what was wrong with guanshan, they stopped caring about him. he was too weak to teach, but too unique to be thrown out. some of the girls took pity on him and tried to help, but most just sneered at him. they weren’t too fond of people who were different. the crueller girls would play pranks, casting hexes on him that took him ages to learn how to remove.

i deserve a worse punishment, guanshan thought. he was a boy who studied, ate and slept with girls. it was immoral and lecherous. it was blasphemous, because witches were gods-to-be. he had no dishonourable thoughts about his schoolmates (he swore his right hand to it), but he was sure to punish himself at least once a day. many times, he would not be able to bear the guilt of lying next to the girls, who were flowering into women day-by-day, that he would sleep outside in the courtyard, on the stone floor, unsheltered by a roof or walls.

when one has to often sleep in such conditions, it is no surprise that they are in no shape to be practising spells in the day. it was self-sabotage, guanshan knew, and sooner or later, the instructors would throw him out. it was on one of his poorer-faring days, when he was forced to crouch till dinner as punishment for setting a tortoise’s shell on fire while the tortoise was still in there, that he met hetian, the second son of the chief of the he tribe.

guanshan’s tribe was known to produce the most fearsome witches. most of them carry on to lead battalions in the imperial army. and if there were a warrior-parallel for guanshan’s tribe, that would be the he tribe. the men from the he tribe were the most brutal and cunning warriors. they were not averse to using underhanded strategies to win a war, which made them incredibly useful to the imperial army but also risky. they were loyal to a fault to the chief of their tribe, and even the emperor was careful when it came to dealing with him.

a few members of the he tribe were visiting to train with the witches. since many witches would end up serving in the imperial army along with the warriors of the he tribe, it was a natural idea to have the two groups get used to each other as part of their training. together, they were invincible.

initially, guanshan was determined to ignore the boy and focus on building a shelter for the tortoise he was tasked to protect from the blazing sun he himself was being scorched by. he was given a large wooden bucket to fill with water by his teachers. once he had it filled, he could then put his tortoise in so it would stay hydrated. they wanted him to practise his water conjuration spells, he understood that, but he couldn’t understand why at the expense of an innocent tortoise. when his fingers ached from snapping and his throat parched from muttering the spell, he finally looked up at hetian, who had been staring at him the entire time from under his paper umbrella.

it was nice of hetian to shade guanshan from the sun (even though guanshan desperately wished he would go away before his teachers came to check on him) so he decided it was possible the young visitor would be willing to help him get water from the well in the neighbouring courtyard.

“you’ll have to show me,” hetian said. “this place is huge, i think i’ll get lost.”

guanshan glared at him. “just take that path to the left. it’s in that courtyard. i cannot leave this spot.”

“why not?”

“what do you mean ‘why not’? i’m being punished!”

“you’ll suffer a worse punishment if you let me get lost in this maze of an institution,” hetian said. “as it is, i’m already lost. i can’t find my way back to my hall.”

for a moment, guanshan wanted to throw the bucket at him. but they were too close to each other and guanshan was crouching so if he wanted to throw it, he had to throw upwards, which meant when it dropped back down, it might hit him in its trajectory. with a growl, he got to his feet. he carefully placed the tortoise in the bucket. it was barely moving, and he wondered if it was dead already.

“i’ll lead you back to your rooms after i fetch water for my tortoise,” guanshan offered, proud of his valiance. he could use the guest as an excuse if he bumped into one of his instructors.

the young man was handsome. unlike his tribe, hetian had pale skin and a lean build. he was taller than guanshan but he didn’t look much bigger, and guanshan was supposed to be a girl. hetian had his long raven hair half-up, tied with a red cloth ribbon. his cheeks were pink from walking under the heat of the sun, and his face glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. when he smiled, his gratefulness reached his eyes. it was the first time anyone had given guanshan a genuine smile since he stepped into this school. maybe that fact, coupled with the angry rays of the sun cooking his brain and that he hadn’t slept a wink last night, caused the skip in guanshan’s heartbeat.

“my name is hetian,” the young man introduced himself as they made their way to the well. “second son of the chief of the he tribe.”

“i know who you are,” guanshan said, grimacing. “you are our esteemed guest.”

“so you knew that and yet you made me wait to have your attention,” hetian mock-scolded. “is your tortoise an esteemed guest as well, then?”

guanshan nearly smiled at the quip. “this tortoise is hundreds and hundreds of years old, it is our senior in many ways.”

hetian gave him a studying look. “i have heard that witches feel an affinity to creatures, but i imagined more glamorous animals.”

“well, even though i cannot conjure up a lick of water and i have red hair,” guanshan said, gesturing airily to his head, “i have always communicated better with aquatic animals.”

the young chief-son laughed. “what does the colour of your hair have to do with the animals you commune with?”

“red,” guanshan shrugged. “it is the colour of flames, the opposite of water.”

“much of you is the opposite,” hetian said, helping guanshan lift the bucket onto the lip of the well.

“of what?” guanshan asked as he tied a secure knot to the handle of the bucket with the rope.

at the exact same time hetian answered, “of a witch,” guanshan yelped, “wait, my tortoise!” as hetian had already begun to lower the bucket into the well.

guanshan stretched into the well to reach for the bucket, which was ridiculously thoughtless because hetian could have simply pulled the bucket up again. doubtlessly, he lost his balance, was lifted off the ground by the off-balance and started a nosedive into the well. at least his desperation to save the tortoise forced a spell that levitated the tortoise safely into his arms out of him. mid-way in his descent, he felt two arms envelope him and immediately after, they plunged into the icy water.

water was coming out of his nose, eyes and mouth when guanshan resurfaced. he coughed and sputtered and hugged the struggling tortoise tightly to his chest with one arm. when he kicked his legs, he hit hetian who was behind him.

“are you all right?” he demanded. his voice bounced off the walls of the well as he finally let go of the tortoise to spin around in the water and face his unfortunate companion.

much to guanshan’s surprise, hetian laughed. it, too, bounced off the walls of the well. it sounded like magic. guanshan could feel the tortoise swim out from between them to scrabble at the opposite wall.

“well, seducer,” hetian proclaimed in between laughter, “you better get us out of this well.”

it was dark all the way down here and guanshan could barely see the face he desperately wished to see. he wanted to see what hetian looked like when he laughed till he could not speak, wanted to see how his long dark hair must be plastered to his face like seaweed, wanted to see the look on his face to know what he meant by putting his hands on guanshan’s waist. guanshan murmured a spell and despite there being too much moisture in the air to summon a flame, a ball of fire burst into existence above their heads. guanshan could see now. hetian could see now. or at least guanshan hoped he could.

“this is inappropriate,” guanshan muttered. “i mean,” he gulped as he studied hetian’s face. “a girl and a boy, who are almost of age, alone in a tight space together… it’s… scandalous…” even as he said it, he could feel the thin material of his clothes cling to the straight lines of his body, he could feel how his chest was flat against hetian’s own.

“we’re not alone,” hetian whispered. the fire above them casted the structure of hetian’s sharp features in stark relief. “we have an esteemed guest in our midst. right behind you. trying to climb the walls.” the scratching of the tortoise’s claws against stone suddenly became louder to guanshan, who laughed in response.

hetian still believed he was a girl. that meant even though he was caught off-guard by the fall and drenched to the bone, his illusion hadn’t wavered. his disguise was more powerful than he could ever imagine, and yet he half-wished it wasn’t.

guanshan pushed away from hetian and waded to his tortoise. he held the reptile gently, whispering something to it. it soon calmed down and waded closer to guanshan’s chest.

“i don’t have magic that can get us out of here,” guanshan explained sheepishly. “but i can send my flame up and hopefully someone will pass by and see it.”

“you mean you cannot turn into a bird or something that can fly?” hetian asked.

“no,” guanshan blushed, ashamed of his lacking abilities. “i have never been successful at full transfiguration.” even his disguise as a woman was enabled by a spell of illusion, not transfiguration.

hetian didn’t say anything. and later guanshan would wonder what he did or said to trigger it, but now hetian floated over, took guanshan’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. it took the person outside the well above them three tries to get their attention. when they were finally lifted out of the well by levitation spells casted by two separate instructors, hetian was immediately herded away to dry off in his rooms, and guanshan was ordered to return to the students’ quarters and stay there for the rest of the day without food.

with the hefty tortoise resting on his chest, and his clothes drying off by his trusty fire-light, guanshan lay on his bed and replayed the kiss over and over again in his mind.

#19 days #tianshan #mo guanshan #hetian #fic #tianshan fic

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talesfromtinytonka · 3 years

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Prompt 6 - Avatar - The Goldsmith's Mistake

The sun was just beginning to set across the warm Thanalan sky when Dewedain arrived. The man had arrived early, even in spite of his many mistaken turns down the twisting alleyways of Ul’dah to find the place, and so he stood steady next to the locked door. This place was a workshop, he had been told; one that was special and quite secretive, owned and maintained by the goldsmith’s guild. Dewedain smiled to himself in excitement as he awaited the arrival of the guild receptionist. He had worked hard in the past few years under promise of this day’s arrival, and though others had excelled in the flashier aspects of the trade, Dewedain sought to hone his skills towards a more practical aspect of the skillset: a mastery of clockwork movement. After all, Dewedain thought, no one would buy an off-tune music box or an inaccurate timepiece, no matter how sparkly and bejeweled they were made to be. Surely this night would be a reward to the culmination of his efforts.

As Jemime made her way down the narrow alleyway, keys in hand, Dewedain snapped back to attention. “This is it.” He thought, “My very own workshop…” As Jemime gave her greeting and pulled a particular key from the ring, she spoke to him. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here. I have orders from the Guildmaster herself.” Dewedain’s heart leaped as he awaited the words, nodding quickly. Jemime continued. “The Guildmaster has asked me to have you put your skills to the task of fixing a few of the clockwork automatons in this workshop by sunrise. Please lock up when you are finished.” Dewedain stared in confusion for a moment, not quite processing the words. “All this…to fix a few stinking Mammets!?” Dewedain bit his lip as he did his best to hold back his disappointment. His disdain for the creatures was no well-kept secret amongst the guild. When they weren’t breaking his concentration with their obnoxiously loud movement—or cursing, in Gigi’s case—they were constantly breaking down and wasting both time and delicate parts. As Dewedain resigned to his fate and went to grab the key, Jemime stopped him, raising her finger up in the air. “Not yet...before you go in I have a warning from the Guildmaster herself. It is a great honor to work in this particular shop, Dewedain…these are no ordinary automatons. Do not let your curiosity get the better of you, and under nocircumstances are you to unlock the workshop door once more, until the moment you leave. Do you understand?” Dewedain considered the strange rules and agreed to do so, his thoughts still preoccupied with his annoyance at the task in hand.

Jemime handed over the key to him and waited for him to open the door, which he promptly did. Dewedain walked into the workshop, the room much larger and darker than he had imagined it would be. Jemime closed the door as he grabbed a lantern from the wall, turning to lock the door by her instructions. As her footsteps faded from his ears he turned once more, fumbling with the lantern. “How un-ordinary could a couple of stupid Mammets be...” He thought, pulling the mechanism to light the oil within with a fire shard. The lantern roared to life, illuminating a workshop space beset on all sides with shelves and benches. Dewedain looked on at awe with the help of the light, the illumination revealing the true nature of the objects stored within the workshops walls: each shelf contained dozens of clockwork creations, each one uniquely designed from the others. Dewedain walked down the small path cleared between the shelves of the workshop, identifying the ones he could. That one there was of a Moogle, he could plainly tell. That one there was an airship! There were hundreds of these things in here, most of them far beyond the man’s knowledge or recognition. He even spotted a few unfortunate looking designed ones in the back: some manufactured as some form of caricature to the deadly primals he had seen depictions of in paintings, and even one of the dreaded Dalamud! Dewedain lit every candle he could find in the workshop, revealing them in all their glory.

As the man looked upon their craftsmanship with childlike enthusiasm, he suddenly made a realization to himself. “Wait…I have seen these before. These are…clockwork figures commissioned by adventurers!” Minions, he remembered they were called; a new fad made popular by the Scions and their Warrior of Light. Dewedain had not known the guild to be even a partial source of these creations, but as he stood among them and took in their lovingly crafted sights, he could not help but feel his heart begin to swell with excitement anew. “These are certainly no Mammets…anyone willing to put in this level of detail must have a commendably high level of expectation in their functionality…” As the man sat down at a workbench with a number of the objects lined up, he began to feel much better about the task at hand. Grabbing his set of tools and goldsmith spectacles, the man grabbed the closest clockwork minion to him—a Cherry Bomb—and got to work. The inner workings of the automatons, as it turned out, were just as intriguing as their exterior details to the man, though not too difficult to ascertain and troubleshoot. It took only a half hour or so for the man to fix the Cherry Bomb, and he watched with restrained joy as the minion rose in the air, glowing and gyrating with life. Dewedain couldn’t wait to fix the others upon the workbench to see how they acted, and so he resumed his work with speed and precision.

After what seemed like just a few short hours, the man was finally working on his last minion: one of an adventurer that seemed to change in appearance and attitude to mimic the famed Warrior of Light. Dewedain fixed it with relative ease, a parade of Moogle minions dancing and frolicking around his head. As the man turned to the rest of the shelves to put his fixed ones away, he couldn’t help but feel the pangs of curiosity grip his heart. There were still so many upon the shelves that did not need fixing; many of which Dewedain was curious to watch and open up to explore their interactions. As the man idly moved towards a shelf to place this recently fixed “Minion of Light” the Moogle minions flying above him dipped too low, tripping him. Dewedain smacked his head upon the shelf, sending it falling backwards into the next one like a domino effect before sprawling out on the ground. The man groaned in pain, his vision darkening as he heard the strange winding of objects around him.

When Dewedain awoke to the workshop once more, he found it to be in utter chaos. A rancid smell forced him to sit up quickly, only to find that it was a mischievous looking morbol giggling at his reaction before scurrying away. The man watched in horror as many of the minions had come to life, and carried an attitude much like their counterparts: Wolf pups chased coeurl kittens around the floor, a small goobbue sat upon one shelf with an even smaller pudding in its mouth, while the fearsome primals of Eorzea seemed to be arguing and fighting with one another. Dewedain got up to his feet only to find a rather ominous looking Tonberry brandishing a knife mere inches from where his head once laid. The man panicked as he considered what to do, knowing the Guildmaster was certain to have his head if Jemime returned to the workshop to find this. As the man contemplated his options and the disturbingly lifelike nature of some of the automatons’ functionality, a Warrior of Light stepped forth to save the day! Dewedain watched as the minion he had fixed leapt to his aid, smacking the Tonberry with a model sword and knocking the winding key from its back. The automated Tonberry immediately halted, its movements abruptly ending as it stood lifeless on the floor. Dewedain watched as the miniature Warrior of Light turned to the primal minions and held his sword aloft. Others, much to the man’s surprise, soon joined him. Dewedain looked upon their features and recognized them to be lifelike models of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. The man could hardly believe it as a miniaturized recreation of the many battles he had heard rumors of was unfolding before his very eyes!

The miniature troupe of adventurers began their fierce battle with the primal automatons, buying Dewedain the time he needed to gather up the rest. While they felled the tiny nails of Ifrit, Dewedain tracked down the morbol seedling and pulled the key from its writhing mass of tentacles; while they dodged the pushes of Titan’s pebble-like fists across the surface of the workbench, Dewedain broke up the pups and kittens, placing them back upon the shelves he had now returned to their upright position. Garuda flew high above the reach of any of the adventurers, but not high enough to not be plucked from the air by the man while she wasn’t looking. Dewedain let out a sigh of relief as he felt the danger begin to subside from the room, but not before a comparatively miniscule shockwave sent the adventurers flying off the bench, their wind-up keys discarded to the floor. Dewedain turned to find none other than Dalamud itself, an almost cute recreation of Bahamut rising out of the cracked opening of the false moon! The man watched as the figure seemed to breathe a fire that looked all too real to risk touching. “Who the hell thought this was a good idea!?” Dewedain thought, and as the creature moved closer and closer to him he was certain that he would not be freed of the automaton without incurring at least a few burns; burns that Jemime would certainly question upon her return.

As Dewedain took a step back, he felt something begin to climb his back from behind him. The man turned to look, gasping at the revelation of another active minion: that of the famed Louisoix himself! The miniature Louisoix held his trust staff high and fired bolts of magic at the baby Bahamut, causing the Dreadwyrm’s miniature to charge and swarm Dewedain as he panicked. Louisoix stood fast to the man’s shoulder, Dewedain helping to dodge the flames as Louisoix fired missile after missile of arcane magic at the dragon. The fight did not last long as the Dreadwyrm fumbled with the Dalamud model upon his head, one well-placed missile sending it falling to the floor. Dewedain quickly grabbed the wind-up key from the top of its head and collected it, placing it lifelessly on a shelf. As Dewedain picked up the remaining inanimate models and made a final sweep of the workshop for any further signs of active minions, there came a knock on the workshop door. “Dewedain? It’s dawn. You’re not sleeping in there, are you?”

Dewedain dimmed the lights in the workshop and rushed to the door, unlocking it. “N-Not at all, Jemime!” Dewedain stood as firm as he could before the guild receptionist, his sweat covered face trying to remain as convincingly calm as possible. “You…didn’t run into any issues, did you? I know automatons aren’t particularly your favorite…” Dewedain cleared his throat and responded. “N-no trouble at all! They were actually quite interesting…The work was, uh, very easy for me.” Jemime looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “I see…that’s wonderful news, but…are you absolutely certain you ran into no trouble at all?” Dewedain nodded in acknowledgement, feeling the receptionist’s eyes upon him like spotlights. “I see…your dedication is very much appreciated. You’re free to go home and rest now.” Dewedain relaxed his posture and breathed a silent sigh of relief as he turned to head down the alleyway. “Oh, Dewedain? One more thing before you go.” Dewedain stopped and turned to Jemime, a knowing smile forming on her lips. “I’ll let the Guildmaster know to put the Louisoix on your tab.” Dewedain’s heart sank as he looked to himself, the proof of his mistake still standing upon his shoulders protectively.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv

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safethaw · 2 months

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Salt's Ice-Melting Mystery: Explained!

Ah, salt! The unsung hero of our kitchen shelves and the stuff of legendary fries. But wait, there's more to this humble ingredient than meets the taste bud. Let's journey into the wintry world of icy sidewalks and roads to uncover just how does salt melt ice. It’s a bit of magic, a bit of science, and a whole lot of interesting! The Classic De-Icing Agent: A Quick Dive Into Salt's Role Ever found yourself scratching your head, wondering why the roads aren't as icy after a snowstorm? That's our old buddy, salt, working its behind-the-scenes magic. But how does salt melt ice exactly? Let's break it down. When salt is sprinkled onto ice, it disrupts the structure of the frozen water. In essence, it lowers the freezing point of the water, making it harder for it to stay solid. This means that even at temperatures where water would normally freeze, the presence of salt ensures it remains liquid. A fascinating dance of molecules! Salt's Tiny Warriors: The Crystals Now, the real champions in this entire de-icing saga are those minuscule crystals from salt. When these salt crystals come into contact with the ice, they start a chain reaction. They first dissolve into the thin layer of liquid water always present on the surface of ice. This creates a saltwater solution that subsequently freezes at a lower temperature than pure water. The ice around the grain of salt then begins to melt, absorbing heat from the surroundings and turning into a liquid. The Not-So-Sweet Side Of Salt It's all well and good until we start looking at the bigger picture. While salt might be a go-to de-icer, it’s not without its downsides: - Environmental Impact - Salt can seep into our waterways, causing harm to aquatic life and impacting the water quality. Think of it as an unwelcome guest to our aquatic ecosystems. - Corrosive Nature - Ever wondered why roads and bridges deteriorate faster in places with snowy winters? Salt, being corrosive, speeds up the rusting process of metals, and that's bad news for our infrastructures. - Health Implications - That very same salt can find its way into our drinking water. High sodium levels, anyone? Meet Safe Thaw: The Game-Changing Alternative Alright, so we’ve learned salt is kind of a double-edged sword. Effective? Absolutely. Environmentally friendly? Not so much. But hey, what if I told you there’s an alternative out there that doesn’t force us to choose between a clear driveway and a healthy planet? Introducing Safe Thaw- This industrial use of ice melt is a game-changer. It's chloride and toxin-free, so say goodbye to those environmental woes. Concerned about the safety of your property or machinery? No worries! Safe Thaw's non-corrosive formula ensures it won’t cause any harm. And here's the kicker – it boasts a patented dual-effect compound. Yup, it’s made of a unique crystalline amide core jazzed up with special glycol, making it the MVP of ice-melting agents. Wrapping Up: The Future Of Ice Melting Understanding how does salt melt ice takes us down a fascinating path of chemistry and environmental considerations. While salt, with its easily accessible crystals, has been our trusted ally against icy terrains, it's essential to recognize its drawbacks. As we move towards a more environmentally-conscious future, alternatives like Safe Thaw are paving the way for a greener, safer, and less icy tomorrow. So, the next time you see those salt trucks, remember there's more to the story, and there's always room for change! Read the full article

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imaginedcreaderinsert · 4 years

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❤I want to request the reader is apart of the royal army on Tameran and while in a battle she falls from space and she meets the boys and Kori. Jason and the reader fall in love, ya know, but they dont admit it because they are both stubborn babies. Kori gets news that Tameran is getting into another battle and before she admits her feelings to Jason she leaves. Years later Kori and the reader return and feeling are shared between Jason and reader. Lots of angst/fluff (love your work btw😘)

Summary: Explained in the ask itself……… Thought I took a small liberty. ¡ENJOY!

Word Count: 3574

TW: Fluff and angst. In that order. I choked up a bit in A CERTAIN PART.

People that asked to be tagged: @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @dora-the-grownup

A/N: Sorry that I took so long to write this thingy. I loved writing it and I love asks, but my mind is not in the right place, and hasn’t been due to the situation these last days. I have a bit of uni work still on my back and that has been stopping me from writing, but your comments and asks always lift me up, I swear!!! You are all so precious. I hope your lockdown is going better than mine and that your loves ones and you are all safe and healthy.

A chance — Jason Todd x Reader

Some would say it’s a coincidence, but Tamaraneans don’t believe in these. Specially not at war, specially not in battle. Tamaran is at war, an ongoing civil war instigated by its own inhabitants against King Myand’r due to his own decision of enslaving her precious daughter, Koriand’r – Komand’r, Kori’s elder sister, is still leading the battle, wishing to take the throne. But they resist, they will hold long enough until they manage to arrange something. Koriand’r doesn’t have it too bad herself, she thinks to herself, sprawled on hot sun, next to a very very hot body. She slaps, jokingly, perhaps too harshly, Roy’s chest. It is slightly burnt, and that might be why he reacts the way he does, howling and feigning death. Kori doesn’t still get human humor, but she has time.

She’s experimented with humans, has had her fair share of friends and lovers – amongst which Dick Grayson, Jason’s older brother, still remains, they think. Truth is sometimes she can’t even remember the tone of his voice, his pitch or his laugh. Some would say it’s sad, but it’s just not useful. Tamaraneans can be emotional, but they are warriors at their core. It won’t change, no matter how much sun the humans insist on taking, or how much time they insist on spending to rest after eating before entering the sea. She couldn’t care less, truthfully, but she likes to play by the rules.

It never was (Y/N)’s forte, really. Maybe that’s why in her attempt of escaping, she changed routes to a place they never thought of following her into. After all, Earth was where the banished seemed to go. Who would think that such a prideful and honored warrior would end up there?

She crashes into it harshly, though; there’s no elegance in her movements, or her landing when she falls into the water, to apparently never surge ever again. Koriand’r feels it under her skin even before she sees her, which she is not able to due to the speed which she falls into: Roy is paralyzed, and so is Jason, who was holding two drinks before stopping dead on his tracks at seeing the scene in front of him. The redhead and him are the first to react. She is out of the water in less than five minutes.

***

She is beautiful and hot. Like, literally – she is burning as Jason checks her temperature for third time in a row. Kori instructed that no one should touch her as Tamaraneans possessed abilities tightly tied with the sun. It basically meant the more she received, the more chances there were that she would regain consciousness. It had been a while, but there was a feeling of restlessness in Jason’s chest since he had laid eyes on her. Maybe it was her deceiving beauty, softness (she was muscles and tough skin, there was no need of touching her to prove that up); or the waves of her still humid hair, her glistening lips. He knew it was lust, maybe more if not as much as he had felt when he had seen Kori for the first time. She was a unique beauty, with something different which had nothing to do with the physical: dreams died under her eyelids, restlessness in her fingers, which sometimes trembled. She had not muttered a thing, and yet Jason was entirely charmed by her. He didn’t quite believe in those things, but there was something that he would name as “aura” or “vibe” that he felt up from her. She oozed it, and Jason could not get his eyes off from her, which is maybe why he had offered to take Roy’s turn to watch her as well. Koriand’r was impressed to say the least, not expecting this from him at all. Maybe Roy. Not that they had anything serious going on, of course.

“Myan…”. She mumbles, for first time; her voice is soft, dry. Jason shouts Kori’s name and asks for water as he gets closer to the bed the moment he sees her try to get up on her own. “No, no-“

She almost evades his touch, wiggling out of it tiredly, but can’t, in the end. Jason admires her strength, her fluttering eyes that reveal a very intense color (typical of Tamareans, perphaps? Kori possess a similar one), and her furrowed brow, like a pouty kid which makes him laugh. She has to rest for some days, but in the third one, she is out of the bed and crouching on the sand.

It takes him by surprise, carrying a small and humble breakfast as he was, to actually see her out of bed in big clothes and kissing Roy. He can only deduce it has been sudden, since his friend’s hands are paralyzed, hovering over her waist like still seeing where to land. The kiss deepens and only then he grasps her waist, which immediately seems to stop the motion. She squirms, almost pushes him to the sand, taking both by surprise. Is she not used to people caring, touching, or is she just sensitive there? By her slight blush and her bright eyes he can deduce it’s the later as he gets closer and helps his friend get up, as lowkey moody as he feels. What the hell? There is an explanation that doesn’t come until Kori is present and puts them up to date. “A way of learning”, she explains, to which she giggles when he sees Roy’s reaction, confused and mouth gaping. By the way he looks at her when they are having dinner on the beach, he can see he feels something for her. Good for him. That’s great.

***

He should be having a nice time, relaxing and gaining back strength from the last missions they had been involved in in their little exotic heaven, but he doesn’t. It bothers him more than he would admit that Roy seems to enjoy way too much her attention, which she returns, in small quantities. That, to Jason’s own disgust, pleases him – he should not be happy for his friend being rejected, but in a way Jason has been caring more for her. He did not expect something out of gratitude, nothing of the sort, but he thought she would notice.

And well, she does in the end.

They start slowly, with small thanks for breakfast, wandering on the beach, sometimes reading in silence when the sun is down, and the sky is purple. It bathes her darkened skin and she is gorgeous, but more than that, is getting to know her. She is so curious, so inquisitive about the little things and full of life. At times she seems to be on edge, specially with loud sounds, but she slowly gets used to them; Jason, from what Kori has told them, supposes that’s what war does to people. She has scars on her back, her thighs; her skin is hardened, proud badges of honor that she shows off with the little and short clothes she shares with Kori. They both have similar physiques, if anything she is slightly smaller, but they both have curves where they are supposed to, and are full of sharp edges, toned muscles and lean figures. Anyone would envy them.

“… I know.”

“Well then start acting out like it. Your people need you, I need you.” She pleads. Jason has never heard her plead, not even when they had a water fight with Roy, which ended up with Kori up his shoulders and (Y/N) up Roy’s. “You have been out too long, and as much as I start to get Earth’s charm-“

“You understand? How so? Roy Harper? Jason Todd?”. Kori insinuates, making his own heart skip a beat, almost as if she knew he was listening, fruit on his hand, having stopped midtrack from paying (Y/N) a night visit, maybe after going for a walk in the beach.

“Koriand’r, we have been holding out for too long. We need you back, I need you back. If that’s not enough, then I don’t know what I’m doing here. I should return home, I have a duty.”

It feels like he’s going against time from that onwards. Roy and her seem to have “a night”, some hours out in the sand where they sit close to each other but without a touch between. Jason wonders what it is, as he observes them both from the balcony of their home, maybe trying to read lips – but they are in silence, content sighs leaving her mouth as they stare at the infinite ocean. They look further than they really are, and Jason cannot help but think they are wasting time. He is wasting time.

He decides to kidnap her. It’s childish, quick and exhilarating in a sense – stealing her from his friend as they get lost in the fauna, giggling and hand in hand running. She is quick on her feet and had gotten up with ability, used to it almost, before running after him, Jason leading until they were deep into the nature of the island. They’ve never explored that area before, and they have been stupid. Too stupid.

“There might be a hot source underneath this. It’s not dangerous, I promise”. He explains, slowly pulling her into the small lagoon they’ve encountered. It’s warm inside, not hot, but definitively a change from the water. She seems reluctant to enter. “Please? I… I heard you back there. With Kori.”

That takes her by surprise, and she slowly concedes. They both get into the small lagoon, cascade not too far from where they are – still they manage to hear each other without shouting. The water covers both of them more or less to their hips. It’s stupid how incredibly gorgeous she is. He can’t stop staring, and he shouldn’t be that obvious. Jason has had her fair share of lovers, women mostly, and even if he knows this kind of things can work with some, she is Tamarean. Is it rude to stare?

“What did you hear?”. She inquires, moving through the water, slowly the water rising as she gets deeper onto the water. She is grabbing Jason hand, taking him with her.

“I just know you plan on going soon. You have an on-going war and you want Kori going home with you. She explained her situation to us. The bare minimum”. She doesn’t look at him as he talks, which makes him nervous. He has never been nervous around women, but there’s something on (Y/N) that makes him squirm at times. “I think you should do what you feel like doing.”

“That’s very easy to say. But I’m not like that, I’m-“. She seems to falter, not be sure of what she wants to say. She frowns, almost annoyed at herself. “I’m bound by duty. Everyone is. I can’t fail them too.”

“I would like you to stay”. He simply says, bold as ever. This time she does look at him – and her eyes are bright, full of emotion as Jason pulls her closer to his body. “I want you to stay here. With us.”

>> And I know it’s too much to ask. I know you are bound by duty, and-I have had that. I was… Restricted, let’s say, by someone else a couple of years ago. Bound by my duty to a certain city, so I-I understand. I swear I do. But that did not make me happy, and I did not agree to how a certain someone handled things over. So I left, I met Roy, Kori, I joined a couple of groups and after I left again – and now, finally, I am happy. With you. You are – gorgeous in all senses. Don’t think just in the physical sense, please. Your inquisitive nature is fascinating to me, and the way you listen with your eyes when you look at me. You make me feel seen, heard and it has been really a long time since I’ve felt like that. I adore the scrunch of your nose when you don’t get something, and your playfulness. I see you too, (Y/N) – and the way you fight with us is dirty, is sassy. It says a lot about your character, and sincerely I love that. Your attitude, your morals, the way you are bound tom something else you firmly believe in, your freedom… I know it’s asking too much but stay. Please.

There’s silence, but her eyes are filled with sorrow. She lets go of his hand and has to physically hug herself, both arms across her chest, as if to not fall into pieces. She feels like that too – for the first time heard, listened by someone else and not because of her military expertise, but because of who she is. Jason Todd, the strange human known as “Red”, has deliberately tried to get to know her better, get her involved in human customs and shared a couple of things with her without expecting anything in return. He has cared for her in a way that few people have done.

“Jason-“. And he knows, once she turns around and looks at him, eyes full of hurt and angst. Jason hurries to her side, embracing her fully for first time and she sighs, almost desperately. She won’t cry, she tells herself, she commands to her own body as his warm body envelopes her in a way that no one has ever done. That hug is enough to break her in every little possible way.

The horror, the hurt she has been carrying, Jason Todd can make it go away, even for a brief time. There was a dark time where she thought of herself as nothing more than a machine, a war one with the ultimate purpose of resisting… Which by no means feels like living. It’s barely scratching the surface. Jason Todd makes her feel alive, like she has finally taken the desperate breath of hair her lungs were aching for. Jason gives her the hope that there is something more besides war, the horror and trauma that comes with it; makes her feel like there’s something to come “home” to.

But she won’t, she can’t. What if she breaks him? Tamaraneans love, when they do, for life. Losing their long-life partner can be fatal, and people can’t die because of heartbreak, but for their people, it weakens them, incredibly so. What if humans are the same? They are incredibly fragile in some aspects, and even if she knows that Jason Todd is an exception (from what he has let her know), she doesn’t want to think on what it would mean if she were to promise him something she won’t be able to accomplish.

“Don’t say anything”. He mumbles into her hair, maybe knowing her answer. She grips him harder and doesn’t let go.

***

She leaves the next morning. They have slept on her bed, have embrace each other tightly, still wet and cold – but there’s only warmth between their tangled bodies as he gets woken by her movements, as silent as he is sure she has tried to be.

(Y/N) is not wearing her typical outfits, but rather an armor – it’s like silver, shiny and very resistant. It covers her most essential and dangerous zones, while still giving her some flexibility. Jason thinks he has never seen female strength so well represented.

But this is not a show-off, not a runway try-out – Kori appears soon after, wearing a similar armor, slightly more jeweled, and signals her out. (Y/N), almost obediently, follows. But before leaving the room, leaving him behind, she grabs the frame, almost as if afraid to leave the room, her fingers slightly trembling. Is she scared? He hears her take a deep breath and go.

Jason takes exactly five seconds to decide before he jumps off his balcony. The height is not crazy, but enough to make Kori shriek, as she sees him first, which makes (Y/N) immediately turn around. She grabs him, as their bodies almost clash and clench to each other, desperately. They feel like the last two people on Earth.

“Please, try to come back.”

“I will. I will try, I promise”. She nods, glassy eyes and nodding fervently.

She commanded her body to not cry, but she has never been too good at following orders to start with.

***

The conflict takes five years. Neither of them are allowed to write, or return briefly home. Koriand’r acts as commander, and (Y/N) is her second. Every thought they have is fixed on war and coming home – to different ones, apparently.

In the five years they’ve fought, Jason Todd travels with Roy – he is still a mercenary, thank you very much, but becomes somewhat legal. They move here and there, and they never stay too long at any particular place – but they always have their holidays at the small island where they met her. They stay for a month in summer, longer than they’ve been at any place, just in the small hope she will come home someday, sometime. His anxiousness grows worse as years pass and doesn’t hear anything from either. Jason and Roy care deeply about Kori, but he can’t help but feel a bit empty without (Y/N). He hasn’t tried with anyone else, because no one else can catch his attention like she did. Maybe if he tried harder, he would, but he has no interest.

He is fine on his own too. He has been like that for a long time.

***

Kori appears first. Tired, fallen from the sky like a light bolt, it’s impossible to miss her. She cries when she embraces them both, perhaps too tired, too hurt from what she has seen and suffered from. They hug her tightly, but Jason quickly tries to ask about her, with her eyes. And she negates, sadly, before crying more into his shoulder.

“I tried, but I couldn’t. She said it was the only way, and I trusted her. But then she blew up the place and… I didn’t know she stayed behind. I’m-I’m so sorry.” Jason hugs her tightly, his chin on her shoulder. He has been shot to the heart, and he can’t stop the tears that fall from his eyes.

***

“Jason, dearest:

I don’t have much time – I never have, honestly. I wished I could have found a better time to write you. At the start of the conflict, so you could know I didn’t die in the first weeks, like many did. Or that I was still alive – hurt but breathing, as I have been in these last few days. Instead, I am forced to write you in my probably last minutes on the universe. My people are worth fighting and dying for, Jason. I hope you will in time forgive me. I wish we could have met under different circumstances, that we could have lived on that small and precious island forever, frozen in time and covered in annoying sand days and nights to no end. I wish I could have met you sooner, on another timeline or alternative universe where I was not forced to make this decision, but it isn’t possible. Not in this life. Not here. You made me feel seen, and you reminded me that this war if worth fighting over so that my people will live, like I did when I was with you.

Every day with you was worth living. I do not regret meeting you, just not being more sincere, honest. Love is probably too much of a strong word for us, but I’ve never felt like I do with you right now. I probably never will. I’m sorry I couldn’t try harder, but there was no other way. I love you, Jason Todd from Earth.

Always yours,

(Y/N).

***

Jason feels frozen in time. He can’t feel, he is not sad – he knows he is, that something is empty, but he can’t feel that. Everything is numb. He reads and rereads the letter Kori gave him on her behalf every now and then, and he thinks he can hear her voice as he goes through it again and again, but when he looks up she is never there, and he is utterly lost. Roy helps, but Kori’s presence becomes somewhat bitter – he doesn’t blame her, but her absence helps, doing whatever she may be doing with all the free time she has now.

There are days when he doesn’t have the power to get out of bed, but the lightning bolt that crosses Gotham, almost breaks the sky, makes him peak out of his sheets. There’s a commotion, shouts, and a violet sphere protecting something in the middle of the street. Roy is in, with his uniform, as Jason jumps out of bed. Could it-?

He almost jumps out of the window, getting out from his safe house as quick as he can. Roy catches him up, mid-air, and lands them perfectly, Jason immediately pushing his way through the crowd until he gets there.

Kori is protectively hovering a battered and unconscious figure, in the ground – she is clearly hurt and shows sign of starvation and torture. She would be unrecognizable if it weren’t for her eyes, which slowly blink up and adjusting to the change of scenery.

It’s her. It’s her and that’s all that matters.

They have a chance. One more chance.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #reader insert #dcu x reader #red hood x reader

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demonwriterx · 4 years

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Epithet Erased:A show centered around Kindness (and Barriers!)

*teleports behind you*

Epithet Erased was created by Branden Blaber, a guy known around Youtube by the name of JelloApocolypse He is known for his famous comedy sketch series of “This is basically...” where he takes a certain show, video game or social media and makes them into parodies, now he had created an original series called Epithet Erased, escluviely being premiered on VRV and on Youtube!

The summary of Epithet Erased will make anyone new to the series interested enough to check out the episodes.

Epithet Erased is set in the world of Sweet Jazz City, where a lucky few are born with powers attached to their very souls known as “Epithets”. An Epithet stems from a single word attached to a users soul that can grant them any kind of power. Words like “Fire,” “Coupon” or … “Soup”. A magical artifact known as the “Arsene Amulet” is rumored to be able to steal an epithet away from its user, and they say it’s hidden somewhere in the Sweet Jazz Museum. Thieves burst down the doors in the middle of the night! Inscribed warriors do battle in the dark of the abandoned exhibits! Dinosaur bones come toppling to the floor! And a little girl named Molly is trapped in the middle of it all. Will her epithet, “Dumb” be enough to save her? Or will her epithet be… erased?

I stumbled across Epithet Erased a little late to the party with three of the episodes already released on JelloApocolypse’s channel. Even being a subscriber, I never got around to it until I decided to sit down and watch the first episode. But now, I wished I would have seen it sooner because of how much I love Epithet Erased!

Epithet Erased is centered around the world of Epithets where certain people gain epithets, but only around one word. Many Epithet users have very powerful Epithets that they use for battle, protection, healing or even turning things into gold. But one main character, Molly, descibes her epithet as useless and “dumb” because it literally is her Epithet! Her Epithet is “dumb” which means that she can “dumb” down anything into literally nothing or just to negate attacks or special abilities. Epithets can also give people special passive abilities, one example is from Molly herself which she can make a bubble of silence around herself and others, as long as they are in the bubbles’ radius.

Epithet Erased has a unique narration style and animation. Their animation budget is small as it feels more like a motion comic without the speech bubbles, but don’t let sway your opinion of it as the voice cast, art style and storytelling carries the series into comedic satisfaction. The episodic series go through arcs and the first 4 episodes take place in a museum! Where characters fight over the mysterious arsenic amulet which can steal other people’s epithets and gives it to the user.

Epithet Erased also does a top down narration, where the audience is looking down on the characters as the characters are moving around as profile boxes. If I would describe it, it is similar to a DnD board, which I suspect Epithet Erased was inspired from and also known RPG mechanics as most users of epithets run on stamina and creativity.

Let’s introduce some characters and the face of the series, Molly.

Molly is 12 years old, and works in her family’s toy shop! (sometimes all on her own, because her father is worthless garbage...but let’s not get into that now) Molly has issues with her self-esteem which stems from the fact that she has to be the adult in her family since she cannot count on her father and sister. It all stems from the fact that the family fell apart from the death of her mother five years prior, ever since then, Molly has been the one to keep her family going. Molly wears a bear hoodie at all time because it was created by her mother. But even with problems at home, Molly is genueriely nice (and secretly savage, mostly savage....you’ll see). She cares about others, likes to talk to them, and understands what is going on in their point of view. She is struggling to be more assertive, but she is getting there!

Giovanni (one of my favorite characters so far!) is the leader of the Notorious BONZAI BLASTERS! A group of rapscallion and ruffians trying to make a name of themselves, consider them like team rocket from the Pokemon series. Giovanni is trying to be known in the criminal underworld, he has his devoted minions who follow him and express their undying love for him. Giovanni may act tough and jerky, but he is a secretly a giant softie. He cares about his minions and takes care of them. Giovanni can even knit! and crafted his own suit from scratch!

Sylvie is a 15 year old boy, who recently graduated college with a PHD in Psychology, his epithet is “Drowsy”, which means he can put people to sleep and make their nightmares a reality! He can even put himself to sleep and summon his alter ego! A raging bull with a Scottish accent! He is a bit pompous and thinks he knows more than anyone in a room. But he secretly wants to have friends, luckily Molly is there to be his friend! and he has a lot to learn.

Mera is an interesting character, with her epithet literally turning against her! I won’t say anything else because I don’t want to spoil anything else from the first arc and trust me! It will captivate you!

Indus is a big soft teddy bear and body guard of Mera, who he refers to as “lady Mera” which is very sweet. He does everything Mera tells him too, including cooking and doing laundry but he is kinda soft-headed (pretty dumb) think of him as Kronk and Mera as Ezma from Emperor’s new Groove.

But these two, these two right here, are my absolute favorite pair! (because I found myself shipping them, im not sorry) The guy on the left is Ramsey, who appears in ep 6 and 7. His epithet is Goldbricker, which he can turn anything and himself into solid gold. A con man at heart, constantly on the run from a bounty hunter finally finds relief when he becomes partnered with a law abiding officer, Percy.

Percy (right), is one of the top officers in her field. Her epithet is creating small buildings with magical abilities but her stamina is very low, if she makes too much or fights for too long, she can literally pass out and becomes defenseless. She is very direct, strong, serious and little innocent, (especially around Ramsey and his constant innuendos, which is very funny). She doesn’t really respond to his comments and his sarcastic jokes, one of which he says to her “your cop is showing” and she gets very embarrassed and says “oh, I’m sorry” so she take things very literally. These two remind me of Judy and Nick from Zootopia, and I also love the good cop, and criminal partnership trope.

Epithet Erased is an action-packed, comedic masterpiece centered around great narration, voice acting and wonderful characters. The show constant theme being kindness to others and most characters of the series are very nice people just trying to make it in a cruel world. It is heartwarming and very funny! I highly recommend everyone to give it and chance and check it out on VRV and on youtube, I will provide a link to the first episode below. I really want this show to succeed and gain a following of support as not a lot of people know about this show, and I would hate to see it end early! This type of show does not come around every often, it is like a secret prize hidden away and everyone deserves a prize! Epithet Erased is a masterpiece of animation, storytelling and character that is unlike any other!

Please check it out in the link below!

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCP4nS6ag1-E6TzlQvaWfiZg

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