#spoil of war au

[maria-and-aguilars-codex-1492]

Okay but can someone (if I write this myself I don't trust my own ability to do it justice it probably wouldn't be good enough) entertain the idea for a fic where its SpoilOfWar!Reader in ancient times:

1. RomanSoldier!Simon, Gaz, and Soap who bring SpoilOfWar!Reader with them on their journey back to Rome to retired general now RomanSenator!Price knowing that they would be a perfect addition to their home. SpoilOfWar!Reader complains and fights the entire way, expecting to be treated badly and turned into a slave, only to be very confused when these four romans begin lavishing them in fine clothes and jewels and treating them like a wife. Another roman citizen doesn't take kindly to that? How unfortunate for them since no one wants to incur the 141s wrath. Unfortunately this includes reader--because at the end of the day you certainly still view yourself as a spoil of war which leads to interesting debates.

2. SpartanSoldiers!141 taking reader as a spoil of war after they find them fighting back against one of their own and (nearly) winnng. They're impressed, like to the point where they just know they have to have reader as a spoil once their little war is done. Reader disagrees, doing everything in their power to prove that Sparta is worse than where they came from since the 141 act as if being a spoil of war was a favour. (And did they mention that Spartan women have more rights than the city-state reader came from?) They certainly lay on the promises that in time you'll be better off.

Bonus for AncientDeity!141:

Reader who escapes capture from being a spoil of war to a man named Graves. Desperately running and finding themselves at the Necromanteion (in our world, this is a temple for Hades and Persephone, but lets pretend the pantheon of this one is....different) where they pray to whatever Gods this temple is for only to accidentally summon the 141. Price, Simon, Gaz, and Johnny are all Underworld deities--they happen to rule it, together--and...well Godhood and immortality can be given to mortals. They know by just one look that they want to keep reader and reader prayed for help. A deal is struck. Pomegranate seeds are given. Which is where poor reader finds themselves: somehow immortal, bound to four underworld deities, and why are there flowers sprouting wherever they touch???

#ive never wrote for this fandom and im scared to start #141 x reader #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #ghost x soap x reader x gaz x price #ancient times au #spoil of war au #hell greek myth inspired au #reader insert #call of duty x reader

[milkcioccolato]

We all start with a little one on the ear😌

#The day his obsession began #and maybe also the day he got a little crush🤭 #Dad Mace won’t ever admit it but he spoils his boy rotten🥺💖 #milks artsies #star wars #darth maul #maul #jedi maul #jedi obimaul au #mace windu #good dad mace windu

[kneelingshadowsalome]

prefacing this by saying I have absolutely no information on this period of history, but Rome was sacked and ultimately destroyed by Germanic tribes.

And naturally, the first thing I thought of upon learning that was Invader!König X Roman Maiden!Reader. Similar to your story, I’m thinking he decides to take the Reader as a trophy of war similar to his comrades. You and plenty of other maidens are tied up, thrown across horseback or across shoulders, and dragged off back to Germania. Depending on how dark you want it, König could wait for his little prize to want his cock, or he could have no patience at all and fuck her as soon as he gets a chance. Of course, he’s still somewhat of a gentleman, he’ll make sure she enjoys it, but like it or not his cock’s going in her.

I think this is an opportunity to lean even further into the barbarian König idea, with varying levels of darkness.

Save me dark barbarian!König... 🖤💋

CW: dark content, noncon groping, noncon cuddling, fear of SA, König's idea of hot sex is problematic to say the least, reader's level of enthusiasm/consent is ambiguous

He doesn’t care about your delicate sensibilities or noble background, he’s here to bring your Empire down and your weak men to their knees. It’s about time someone burned Rome to the ground; no amount of foreign perfume can cover the smell of shit in these streets…

But he won’t say no to gold or jewels, they might some day decorate his future wife's neck and wrists perhaps. Neither will he ride homeward without a slave to keep him warm. He hasn’t had a woman in months, the only thing closest to a cunt has been his calloused fist and he’s grown tired of that, nothing can compare with the real deal so a soft little female is exactly what he needs to keep him company when he and his warriors return North.

Your options are either freezing to death or crawling inside this giant’s cloak when he holds it open for you come nightfall, the voyage to Germania bringing with it the first snow and cold winds straight from Hades. You have no option but to go to this man for some body heat, the low rumble in his chest resembling the pleased purr of some untamed beast as he envelops you in wool and a hungry embrace.

He never speaks to you, only talks with his hands that roam all over your body as you cling to him with clattering teeth. Examining the wideness of your hips, the plumpness of your ass and tits, he serves himself a handful and some pinches as if he’s sampling fruit at the marketplace. Rubs your nipples between the pad of his thumb and pointer until you flinch from pain, mutters something pleased when he sees your skittish reaction. He won’t allow you to pull away however, not when you’re finally here, so back to his arms you go as he crushes you against his chest.

He’s amused at your attempts to both huddle closer and squirm away: why are you being so difficult when clearly, you want this too?

He saw how you looked at him back there when he was drenched in blood, that’s the reason he chose you. You’re sweeter than an apple, didn’t even scream when he swept your hair from your face to have a better look at you, you only eyed him with challenge when he inspected your lips, waistline and hips. A scared female would have avoided his eyes and begged not to be killed or worse, but you only lifted your chin and spat on his face, practically begging to get fucked…

And now you’re acting like you don’t want his cock while at the same time, you continue to stare at him like a deer in heat. If you don’t want him to fuck you then you should stop making him hard, but in truth König is only glad that he chose you out of all women. The ride back home won’t be dull with a fiery fox woman like you, he has to be careful that he doesn’t get bitten and bruised… How his men would laugh in the morning if they found out that the vixen he stole has made him hers, little teeth marks decorating his skin and betraying everyone your claim.

He would only be proud of you if you did that; women are quite adorable when they have some fire in them. But make no mistake, he won’t let you go no matter how hard you act like you hate him… Everyone here knows you want to jump on his cock; had he decided to inspect your pussy too while covered in your husband’s blood, he could’ve bet all his fortune along with his horse that you were already wet for him.

He could take you right now on this cold, hard ground, try to see how long it takes to make you wet and pliant. The only thing really keeping him from doing so are his men, no doubt wanting to see how a Roman lady takes their giant leader's cock. But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you naked, let alone watching him fuck you, he'd have to kill them all afterwards...

So he settles for making his naughty little slave warm, and both of you a little breathless. He can find a more discreet place for you tomorrow, order a break or two to ease the heaviness of his sacks, the aching hard ons he’s had ever since he saw you. He has to be careful not to break you, and remember to kiss you on your neck, he heard that that’s the key to make women wet and willing.

You seem so fragile and frail when you fall asleep, finally surrendering to him, your body yielding and molding against his. In the morning, you whimper sweetly when he squeezes your now warm, plush body, and plants kisses on your face, your neck. You have no idea that the warriors are already mocking him for “making you wait so long”, that he has listened to stupid jokes all morning with you securely tucked inside his cloak. You bite him when he tries to come too close, all the brutes around you burst to laughter as he howls from pain.

Not feeling at all sorry for him when he rubs his neck and looks at you with drowsy curiosity, you rise and spit again on the ground as if you had just tasted something vile. He can’t stifle his smile then, your idea of foreplay is much more fun than what he had in mind…

And you aren’t flung over his horse, but actually get to ride it with him, the arm around your middle like iron as he keeps you as close to him as possible. You don’t know that he’s reluctant to take an unwilling woman, and that this preference makes him the laughing stock of the group. Neither do you know that König has already pictured you inside his hut, baking bread and scolding children like the firebrand that you are, giving him a naughty little wrestle and a fistfight every night before bed... Shuddering from want like you do now on his horse as he exposes your breasts to the approaching winter.

You are about to faint as tiny snowflakes land on your nipples, melting instantly as this man starts to fondle your tits. Slumping against his blazing form, you can do nothing but accept your fate as the horse keeps walking and the men around you shout and whistle at the sight of your breasts. The rough barks of your captor quickly end their excitement upon seeing your exposed tits, the whistles stop and the men turn their eyes quickly away from you.

The man behind you is now perfectly content, riding in the crisp morning air while pawing your breast with one hand and holding the reins with the other, his groin grinding against you with the movements of the horse, making it clear that he might soon stop this torture altogether and take you to the nearby woods for a quick fuck…

#barbarian!könig #dark content #spoils of war #historical au #tw: slavery #tw: dark themes #cw: dark content

[kittyhasskittles]

I think Maul would like a loth cat if it looked like him

#artists on tumblr #art #digital art #star wars #darth maul fanart #darth maul #loth cat #maul star wars #maul opress #zabrak #he would name it after himself probably #it would be the most spoiled loth cat #digital aritst #au where darth maul has a loth cat thats exactly like him

[skynobi]

fucking obsessed with the role reversal au dynamic of master anakin doting on his adopted padawan obi 🧍

also i could read these two particular reverse au fics over and over: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700225 https://archiveofourown.org/works/34725244

#obikin #*miss havisham voice* spoil him SPOIL HIM #reverse au #star wars #my art

[to-proudly-go]

Put your padawan down Anakin please he's not a tooka

I made art for the reverse AU fic One legged race by Ancathepurple! It's angsty but the comfort and fluff in the end is so worth it 🥹

Lifting his padawan up into the air by holding under his armpits, Anakin hooted as the doors opened in front of them, catching his padawan off guard. “I have the best karking padawan in the entire galaxy!" He called out while entering the council chamber, Obi-Wan squeaking and kicking both his flesh and metal leg while staring at the council with wide eyes.

(TW on the fic: child neglect, Padawan Obi whump)

#i won't say much so i don't spoil anything if you want to read the fic #but anakin is so protective over obiwan it made me cry #it's just angst and fluff #i love it #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #age swap au #reverse au #padawan obi wan #master anakin #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obi wan and anakin #obikin #my art

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

The thing about no war jeytiri is that relationship is a fucking warzone all on its own. The nerf gun battle of 2018 will go down in history as one of history's most brutal battles. The water balloon wars of 2020 contained the most betrayal of any war in recent memory, because Neytiri talked Lo'ak into putting a ballon down the back of Jake's shirt.

Even not modern and on Pandora, Mo'at and Tsu'tey are just trying to lead a normal life with a normal clan and Jake's like "bet I can gather more herbs faster than you, Neytiri." And she's like "Jake, that's so incredibly childish-" *trips him for a head start*

#it's just- #there might be kanthony parallels #but instead of tortured serious older children burdened by all their responsibilities #without the seriousness of war they are spoiled younger children with intense competativeness #they are just LIVING for each other and at each other's expense #god i love them #jake sully #neytiri sully #jeytiri #mo'at #tsu'tey #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa og #melissa on avatar (cameron) #modern au (wheelchair jake! edition) #modern au (jake legs! edition)

[quirkle2]

flutter slimes are his favorite

#it's flutter fuck friday . if u even care #qkdraws #suncaster au #suncaster warriors #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #tloz #loz #loz au #zelda au #slime rancher 2 #slime rancher 2 spoilers #slime rancher #scsr #he spends some of his free time winding his way through starlight strand over and over to look for moondew nectar #sometimes stays up past curfew cuz he loses track of time . their flowers only bloom at night after all #he likes to collect them and then feed the flutter slimes that hang out there. he makes friends w all of them #he's familiar enough w them to recognize certain ones. he names them. #and he gets sad when one of them stops showing up for a while #he's literally perfect u cannot tell me otherwise #and he of course has a few on the ranch that fly free-range. he brings them a bunch of nectar and spoils them rotten w treats #image for u: the chain going to starlight strand together and all the flutter slimes instantly flock to wars as soon as they see him #he giggles sm . im goingto cry

[alexanderlightweight]

hello! Because you've brought up the idea a few times...

Prompt: magnus gouges someone's eye(s) out

(Typing this made me realize that this may be too dark, if so please ignore!)

here we go, uh. this has a very obvious and specific kind of violence so like. please proceed with caution anyone who reads.

spoils of war verse!

also anon this was absolutely fine!

lumine

-

“And who said—” Magnus asks calmly as he rests the pointed metal of his clawed ring delicately against the whites of the seelie’s eye, “that you could look so closely at my boy?”

Alexander is still and quiet on the other side of Magnus and he’s watching Magnus intently, which means he’s trying to figure out how exactly Magnus views him.

If Magnus lets this go, it could take months for Alexander to accept that Magnus actually values him and what kind of husband would Magnus be, to let such an insult go.

“He’s just a pawn, your Highness.” The seelie whispers, “I wasn’t looking at him. I was admiring the cloak he isn’t fit to wear.”

Magnus chuckles and motions for Alexander to come closer to him and he does, obedient but wary.

There’s a distrust in his eyes, as if he thinks this is the moment when Magnus decides he’s had his fun and is done keeping his boy close and protected.

Magnus nearly coos at him, but instead he crooks his free fingers, and the cloak moves from Alexander’s shoulders to instead fall into a heap on the ground. One walks through this path barefoot and Magnus smirks at the knight who was supposed to be their guide, the claw of his ring tapping delicately against the seelie’s sclera.

“Your feet seem cold, Alexander. Come stand by me, the feathers will keep you warm.”

There is disbelief in the seelie’s face and a pause before Alexander steps even closer and stands once again within Magnus’ reach, feet covered by the cloak.

“It does not matter why you looked at him.” Magnus tells the knight with a cruel, vengeful smirk. “It only matters that you did. I warned you, to keep your eyes to yourself lest you lose them.”

Magnus uses magic to hold the seelie still, the flames of Edom rising up around him and disintegrating the plants that try to protect the knight. Alexander is still beside him, and Magnus can feel how he tenses, how his body moves automatically into a defensive stance.

Magnus wishes he could see Alexander but instead, he’s dealing with someone not worthy of living.

It’s with disdain that Magnus digs the point of his ring into the curve of the eye, and he hooks into it with magic, pulling it free with a loud, violent pop. It’s audible even over the seelie’s screams and Magnus sighs and pats the seelie’s cheek with his soaked hand after he crushes the orb in his hand.

“If only you hadn’t looked at him.” Magnus murmurs to the incoherent, wailing man, “you could have lived.”

Magic claims the second eye, pulling it free from the socket with a wet grind and since it’s intact, Magnus flicks it to his laboratory.  Perhaps he will make Alexander a present with it, as an apology for such an unsightly display for his boy’s first trip to the seelie world as Magnus’ consort and husband.

It’s almost an afterthought, to use magic to pluck the seelie’s heart from his chest and even before he throws up a magical barrier, feathers are blocking Magnus from the gore of his kill. For a moment he thinks Alexander’s used the cloak, before he realizes it’s Alexander’s wings.

They’re gorgeous and Magnus regrets not insisting on seeing them the first time he claimed his boy.

“Alexander, you shouldn’t have.” He chides gently and he uses magic to clean away the mess and he reaches out, running his fingers over the closest feathers and chuckling when they flutter against his touch. “You didn’t need to get dirty.”

Magnus has never touched a nephilim’s wings with anything other than violence and, with Alexander’s feet kept warm by the trophies of a thousand corpses, Magnus keeps his movements soft. He’s indescribably tender as he gently pets his fingers over Alexander’s gorgeous plumage.

“How can I ever take you anywhere?” Magnus asks absently, “I’ll have to leave massacres in our wake and then where will we be?”

Alexander gives him a pleased, endeared look and shifts closer, his wings brushing up against Magnus. They’re delightfully soft and deceptively strong and Magnus carefully burrows his fingers through the thick, soft feathers at the base.

“You didn’t need to kill him.” Alexander tells him with a sigh as he looks at the remains of their guide. “It’s nothing I didn’t expect.”

“The queen’s pride and joy of a knight shouldn’t have been so insulting.” Magnus reminds him, “why should I suffer my treasured consort to be demeaned? Why should you expect to be insulted, Alexander. Does a king not protect his consort?”

Alexander sends him a searching, curious glance but he stays silent and for now Magnus allows it.  

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #spoils of war #malec #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters au #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

[carolina-star]

Star wars AU where Cody finds Boba after the battle of Geonosis and decides to take care of him. With the 212th battalion of course.

I mean Waxer and Boil have a soft spot for babies. They're going to spoil Boba so much.

And yes, this is how Cody got his scar in this AU. Thanks for it he finds Boba. You know sometimes when something just blows up near your face and let you a big scar you need to get medical help. And of course while the doctors are taking care of you (in the Petranaki Arena because convenience) you see Prime's kid near the beheaded body of Prime… Oh freaking sugar.

And you know, you can't leave your little Vod behind.

The 212 and Boba

Obi-wan and Anakin meet Boba

Masterlist

#star wars #sw #star wars au #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw #boba fett #commander cody #jango fett #212th battalion #commander sunshine #i am really bad drawing backgrounds #boba deserves love #the 212th #the 212 is going to love boba so much #the 212 is going to spoil baby boba #i Guess Cody is now a father/big brother #and i guess blood and death #Boba and the 212

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday: Mistaken Identity

Actually quite long (about 42 pages in my tiny notepad), because it's a full one-shot rather than part of a multi-chapter idea. Although that's not to say I won't add pieces later

The distress beacon had been Sig’s, but the shape lying limply in the dust was most assuredly not Sig. The gathered Wastelanders looked at each other with grim expressions: this felt like a trap.

"Circle around," Damas signed to the driver of the second car, "Check for an ambush. I'll see if it's one of ours."

"Be careful," the woman signed back. A dimple between her brows suggested that under her heavy scarf she was frowning.

"I'm always careful."

Even so, Damas took extra care in approaching the crumpled form, gesturing for Kleiver to follow him in case of attack. He'd assumed that the person -- or corpse, hard to tell at this distance -- would be larger up close. But as he drew near, the figure remained small, and slight. They were dressed like a Havenite from the Slums, wearing stained, threadbare layers of clothing. A filthy scarf and dismally battered goggles half covered matted green hair; they didn't seem to have any more protection from the sun than that. Foolish Havenite.

Two small animals lay beside the stranger, breathing shallowly. Pets? That seemed an unusual step for Haven, letting an exile take anything important to them.

Damas glanced at the stranger, but kept his attention focused on the ground, looking for Sig’s beacon. It didn't take long to find, considering it lay beside the stranger's hand. Damas picked up the beacon and turned it over in his hand. There were no obvious signs of tampering. No blood or scorching or anything else to indicate that the beacon had been taken by force.

"How did you get this?" Damas murmured, not really expecting an answer. Whoever this was, they were barely alive.

"Er...lordship?"

It was not like Kleiver to sound hesitant.

"Do you...know this kid?"

An odd question. Damas looked up with a quizzical expression and found the big Wastelander peering down at the face of the figure. Kid?

The king pivoted on his heels to get a better look at their find.

Sunken cheeks. Dark circles under large eyes. A pitiful patch of stubble that might’ve been a first attempt at a beard on an otherwise startlingly smooth face. Precursors, he was a kid, wasn't he? He could've been anywhere from sixteen to nineteen -- in his state, it was hard to tell.

"Scrawny thing, isn't he?" Damas remarked. He took hold of an iron ring strapped to the boy's chest and tried to shake off a nagging sense of familiarity in the boy's features. "A channeler, maybe? We could use one of those. Honestly, I'm impressed that he's still breathing."

He glanced up. "What makes you think I'd know who the whelp is?"

Kleiver looked back at him with an unusually uncomfortable expression. He gestured awkwardly to the boy's face.

"Well he's...I mean- well look at 'im! 'S just weird, is all."

"What's weird?" Damas scoffed and hoisted the boy up by the iron ring.

The boy's head fell back and for just a moment, something around his neck glittered in the fading sunlight. With a curse, Damas dropped him as if he'd been burned. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled back a step, swearing under his breath.

"What fresh hell is this?" he demanded.

That was where Phobos found him after completing her perimeter check: staring in horror down at a much younger version of his own face.

Phobos crossed the space between their vehicles to touch his shoulder.

"Damas?"

"I...who is this?"

"Damas." Phobos shook him gently. "Hey. Hey. Are you just going to leave him lying there?"

The king blinked and inhaled sharply as he seemed to come to. "Right," he muttered, "...right. Pho, take my staff."

"What? Oop-!" Phobos hastily grabbed at the staff Damas all but dropped. "What the-!"

In a daze, Damas knelt and slipped an arm under the boy’s shoulders.

"Gods. He really is scrawny."

He shook his head and hoisted the boy up.

"Kleiver, get the car started. And someone grab those animals!"

Phobos's eyes flicked from Damas to the half-dead castaway, and narrowed.

"Damas...who is that?"

Her husband turned to face her, a disturbed shock stamped clearly on his face.

"I don't know," he said grimly, "but he's wearing a Maridius amulet."

■■■■■■■■■■

The Rift Rider idled, ready to take Samos and the child back in time. Ready to begin the cycle of pain all over again. Jak bit his lip and folded his younger self's fingers back over the proffered amulet.

"No, buddy, you keep it," he said gently. "Try...try to remember something about your family this time. Maybe remember me."

The tiny boy pouted, then threw his arms around Jak’s neck. "Za?" He whispered in Jak’s ear, the closest he'd ever come to saying his name.

Jak closed his eyes and hugged the kid tightly. Precursors knew he wouldn't get a lot of hugs in Sandover. "No, buddy. Za can't go with you this time. You have to be really brave for me, okay? There's...there's a kid on the other side of that gate who really really needs a friend. Can you look out for him for me?"

Sniffling, the little boy let go and nodded. "Brave like you," he signed. Then, rubbing his eyes, he sat back down in the craft.

Jak took a slow breath, then looked to the younger Samos. Doubtless this version of the sage was going to withhold just as much information as the older one. Jak didn't trust him to warn Mar about Errol. And he'd be blasted if he let that swine get his hands on the amulet in any timeline.

"You know, I didn't have the amulet when I got back to the present," he said casually. "I think you locked it up for safekeeping right before we fixed the Rift Gate, but I never saw where in the house you put it."

Samos took the bait too easily. "Oof! Yes, I suppose it would be bad for the kid to meet the Baron with that thing on. Thanks for the heads-up."

All too soon, they were gone. And not long after, so was Jak, headed for Dead Town. It had been a selfish ploy, a bid to give himself some semblance of a connection to his past. He couldn't remember having the amulet yet -- but he'd had trouble remembering a lot of his early years ever since the experiments began. "Traumatic amnesia", Daxter called it.

But if the amulet was there, if his ploy had worked, then maybe he'd get something back.

It took him an hour to sift through all the debris in the old hut, even with Daxter's help. The ravages of time hadn't left many places for treasure to remain undiscovered in. But just when Jak was beginning to fear that someone had found it decades before, his hand brushed over a brick in the old planter circles that lacked the same grout as the others.

Leave it to Samos to hide such an important artifact under a giant, vicious, carnivorous plant. Had he fed it to the thing?! The amulet was down where the roots had once been!

Still, Jak could admit to a sense of relief that washed over him once the amulet was in his hand. Clearly he'd changed the past at least enough to have an emotional connection to the pendant. He tucked it into his tunic, resolving to put it on a chain the first chance he got. He wasn't going to let anyone take it from him again.

■■■■■■■■■■

The last thing Jak remembered was collapsing beside a boulder, desperately trying to stay conscious only to fail seconds later. He could hear a voice -- not Daxter or Pecker -- nearby, and as he focused on that, other sensations began to filter in.

Softness beneath him.

The smell of eco med-gel.

An itch in the crook of his elbow.

A sticky dryness in his mouth, like cotton.

And something off about his skin. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his skin felt different somehow. Cleaner? No, that didn't make any sense. Why would it be clean?

It took a monumental effort to open his eyes, and he regretted it immediately. Light stabbed into his retinas pitilessly, and Jak let out an involuntary grunt of discomfort. In response, a shadow fell over his face, shielding him from the unforgiving glare. First a blur, then a shape, a face slowly swam into focus.

"Ah, you're back with us! Thank the Precursors, that was a close one, eh?"

Jak blinked up in confusion as his brain slowly processed the presence of one of the most beautiful women he could ever remember seeing. Not that he could remember seeing that many women in his life. Her skintone was so deep that the light framing her glanced off her cheekbones in little flashes of garnet and amethyst. Coils of hair spread out behind her head in an artful halo, providing most of the blessed shade across Jak's face. He squinted up at her for a long moment, trying to determine whether he was hallucinating in the desert.

"....'m I dead?" Jak croaked, then winced at the dry soreness in his throat.

The angelic stranger laughed in surprise. "Dead? No, quite the opposite, kid. Although you got pretty close."

"Where am I?" Jak tried to sit up, and something tugged at his elbow.

Instantly, he froze. He knew the shape of a needle.

Bile crawled up his throat, and his heart thundered in his ears as he forced himself to turn his head and look.

A bag of clear fluid hung from a stand beside a cot he'd been laid on. Descending from the bag, a long tube fed the fluid through a needle secured to his arm with bandages. A high whine escaped him, and the room seemed to spin.

"Whoa whoa whoa- kid, kiddo, look at me."

The mysterious woman suddenly took his face in her hands -- rough hands. A warrior's hands.

"Ssshh, hey, you're okay. You're okay, chico. It's just saline, that's all."

"W- what-?"

"Saline. It's a...kinda like a saltwater solution you give to people suffering dehydration."

One of the calloused hands cupped the back of his head, rubbing a thumb comfortingly over stubble.

Stubble?

Jak's breathing quickened and the room spun faster.

"What-!" he gasped, and his breaths began to squeak. "What did you do to me?!"

"Hey now, breathe. Breathe." The woman began to sway back and forth where she sat, dragging him along with the rocking motion.

"Inhale with me, yeah? In and out, in and out. I've got you."

"M- my h- my h- hair-!" Jak squeaked.

The woman clicked her tongue. "Oh, ohhh, you can feel that, huh? Yeah, you were overheated. The mats in your hair were just doing damage to you, longterm. The doctors didn't have any time to waste, so they shaved it out to cool you off."

She continued to cradle his face with her other hand, offering him a full, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get your okay, chico. But...I mean, you wouldn't wake up! Not even your orange friend could get a response. He gave us the go-ahead."

For the first time since waking, Jak felt something like relief. "D- Daxter?"

"Mm. The mouthy one? Yes."

"Where-?"

The woman pulled back and turned away for a moment. Jak wondered why he felt minutely disappointed by that. He wasn't that touch-starved, was he? When she turned back, she held a cup and pitcher in her hands. The sight of the water trickling from one container to the other made Jak's throat ache all the fiercer.

"Here. Slow sips now, little bird. Don't make yourself sick like your friend did." The woman settled back into her seat at the edge of the cot. She made a vague gesture with the hand not holding the pitcher.

"At least he made a quick recovery. My husband took him back up to our place. When you're cleared by the doctors, we'll take you to him."

Jak gulped down the water, ignoring his visitor's protests. It was cool, although not cold, but even that was like heaven on his irritated throat. Droplets leaked from the corner of his mouth, and the IV tugged painfully as he reached up to catch them. He didn't think he could afford to waste even one drop.

"Hey hey!" The woman reached for the cup, and Jak jerked back out of reach.

"Not so fast, chico, you'll make yourself sick!"

Jak growled softly behind the rim of the cup and hitched up his shoulders. If this lady wanted to take the water away, she'd be in for a fight.

"Whoa!" The woman raised her brows. "Calm down. The water isn't going anywhere, I promise."

"I don't know you," Jak retorted, "How do I know you keep promises?"

Now the woman began to look a little annoyed.

"Fair enough," she begrudgingly allowed. "Considering the state we found you in, am I to assume that if I take that cup you'll bite me or something?"

"I might," answered Jak coolly.

Something bittersweet passed over the woman's face and lingered there at the corners of her mouth as she forced a smile.

"Well that wouldn't be very nice of you, but I can't say it wouldn't fit with every other kid in Spargus."

Jak lowered the cup slowly. "Spargus?" he asked, tilting his head, "What's that?"

"It's home," she answered. "The city of the forgotten and the betrayed -- and the hunter."

Jak raised the cup again and muttered darkly, "Well that's ironically appropriate."

"Let's start over, huh?"

The woman leaned back and carded a hand through her teased-out coils.

"My name is Phobos. I was with the convoy that found you and your friends in the Strider Range."

"...oh."

Jak grimaced. This woman had rescued him, hadn't she?

"I'm, um. I'm Jak."

Embarrassed, he gestured to the cup, the IV, and looked away. "What do I owe you? I don't...I don't have any money."

Phobos shook her head. "It's fine, chico- er, Jak. When people come to Spargus, those who have life debts pay it back by contributing to the overall survival of their new home and neighbors, depending on how old they are when they arrive."

"How old they are?" Jak fiddled with his now empty cup awkwardly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Phobos gave him an amused glance. "Uh...kids are kids? This isn't Haven, hey? We don't even let people take the citizen applicant training course until we know they're eighteen or older."

She scooted closer and held up the pitcher. "Cup."

"Huh? Oh-"

Jak tilted the cup toward her but didn't let go. He watched her refill it and puzzled over the idea of a city in good enough shape that kids didn't have to work. Maybe there weren't metalheads out here.

"So...do you people normally pick up half-dead people and bring them home?"

"As long as they aren't half dead because they tried to kill us, yeah," Phobos said with a careless shrug. "Strength and survival: it's the two things Wastelanders respect the most. So when we find somebody in the badlands who isn't a dried out corpse, we know we've got the makings of a tough little survivor."

Surviving was, by necessity, Jak’s best skill. But considering the kind of jobs he got when people knew that, and how it had turned out last time, Jak decided not to advertise that fact. It already nagged at him that someone had seen his scars, and the bruises from the arrest, and every other injury he'd gained in the name of helping a city that hated him. Spargus wouldn't get the same freebies.

Eventually, Phobos stood up and put the pitcher back on a low counter that extended out of sight behind a curtain. She dusted off her yellow tunic and stretched her back with a soft grunt.

"Alright. I guess somebody ought to tell Damas you're awake and talking," she said, more to herself than to Jak.

Before Jak could ask who Damas was supposed to be, something careful and calculated slipped into Phobos's voice.

"So...just you and the critters, huh? Your parents know where you are?"

Hands tightened into claws around the wooden cup.

"I never had parents," Jak growled.

One more thing to "thank" Haven for, apparently.

"Ah." Phobos's eyes widened in an oddly dismayed expression. "Sorry, I..."

"Why?"

Jak's eyes narrowed at her.

"Literally no one has ever asked if I even had parents before you. You're fishing for something. What do you want?"

Then it hit him: if the woman had seen his scars, she had seen his amulet as well. Was that what she was getting at? Probing to see if any other ill-fated Heirs of Mar existed?

"Uh..." Phobos puffed out her cheeks and blew the air out. "It's...complicated. I'm gonna let Damas take this one."

"Who's Damas?" Jak demanded.

Phobos made another odd grimace and lifted a radio from the countertop.

"Hey, Damas, the kid's awake," she said, ignoring Jak's question.

A raspy voice crackled through the speaker.

"He is? Has he said anything yet?"

"Well, he threatened to bite me," Phobos joked before growing serious. "Take it easy when you come down, he's pretty worked up. Bring the orange guy if you can."

"Understood. Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah," Phobos sighed. "He doesn't know who we are, where we are, or how he got here. I don't think you're going to get any answers out of him."

"......oh."

The guy she called Damas sounded strangely...emotional.

"Er...alright. I'll...I'll see what I can do when I get there."

Jak glowered at Phobos's back. He hated when people talked about him like he wasn't there.

Out of habit, he reached for his collar to run his fingers over his amulet. That always helped him slow down when his thoughts were racing too fast. His fingers brushed against loose linen; the tunic he was wearing were not the one he'd had on the last time he was awake. Jak's stomach felt like it was plummeting from a precipice as he finally looked down at his body. Someone had dressed him in loose, lightweight clothing. There was no sign of his own clothing.

Or his amulet.

Fighting down feelings of violation and revulsion, Jak gripped the thin sheets in hands like claws.

"Where are my clothes?" he snarled, "What did you do?"

Phobos didn't look overly concerned, which only agitated Jak more.

"They're being checked for trackers or other bugs," she said with a shrug. "Haven's been trying to find our city for years. Can't be too careful. Look on the bright side: it's probably the first time they've ever been washed."

She leaned over the cot, and Jak jerked away.

"Don't touch me!"

There wasn't much room to retreat on the small bed, but Jak tried anyway.

"Who stole my amulet?"

"Hey, calm down," Phobos raised a placating hand, but dropped it quickly when Jak flinched. "Nobody stole it."

"Don't lie to me!"

Jak was over the verge of panic now. He was alone, powerless, right back to being poked and prodded like a doll. Like a lab rat.

"What do you want?!"

Grimacing, Phobos stepped back and grabbed her radio again.

"Hey Damas? Hurry it up, will ya?"

"I'm en route."

"Good. Because he just noticed the absence of a Certain Something and he is losing it right now."

"Rot. Okay, just- rot! Try to keep him calm, I'm bringing it, okay?"

The man's voice rose and fell oddly. It almost sounded like he was running.

Phobos ran a hand through her hair and puffed out her cheeks. This was not going as well as they'd hoped. Could've been worse, she acknowledged, but this kid's reactions were giving her a bad feeling. The scars, the reaction to the IV and having been given new clothing without his knowledge, it all painted a pretty grim picture.

"Damas is bringing your amulet down," she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. (How did one talk to agitated teenagers?! Why weren't they as easy to calm as toddlers?) "He'll explain everything, chico, I promise. Just...stay here a minute, okay?"

Jak warily watched the woman walk through the curtain, listening and counting her footsteps. By the sound of it, he was in the back of a narrow building. There was someone else up there, wherever Phobos had gone, but they rustled around opening drawers instead of speaking. If there were guards, Jak couldn't hear them. He hoped there were none. In his current state, he doubted he'd be able to fight them off.

A door slid open with the sound of a chime, and Jak stiffened as a heavier tread entered the building.

"About time!" he heard Phobos greet the person, "He's all yours."

"Allegedly," the voice from the radio answered.

"Mmhm. You're cute when you're in denial. Better get back there before the poor kid has a heart attack."

When the curtains parted, Jak was in the act of climbing off the cot to look for something -- anything -- to defend himself with. He froze, locking eyes with a weathered Wastelander covered in scars and armor. He looked like the kind of guy Sig would run with. Jak stared at the man and wondered if this was the guy who allegedly had his amulet. Were those piercings on his skull?! Despite himself, Jak wondered how the man slept without ripping whatever he used for a pillow.

"Easy, young one," the man murmured, holding out his hands as if approaching a skittish animal. "Easy. You're in no danger."

"Usually when people tell me that, they're lying," Jak retorted. He backed up, silently cursing his shaky legs, until his back touched the wall and the IV tugged painfully at his arm. "Where's Daxter? What do you people want with us?"

The armored man lowered himself to sit on the end of the cot and folded his hands in front of him. "Your friend is perfectly safe," he soothed, "Well, unless he tries to use the water wheel as a carnival ride, I suppose. But he doesn't really seem the type to do that kind of thing."

"You didn't answer my other question," Jak said pointedly. "What do you want?"

"Answers," the man -- Damas, probably -- replied steadily, "Just answers."

"Like what?" Jak edged closer to the IV, trying to relieve the horrific sensation of the needle.

Then his visitor reached into a cloth pouch at his belt and drew out a familiar shape.

"What can you tell me about this?" he asked, holding up the amulet.

Forgetting the needle, Jak lunged for the pendant. Pain lanced through his elbow for an instant, hot and dull, and he pulled up short. He'd learned long ago not to rip needles out. There would just be more if he did.

"Whoa!" Damas dropped the amulet on the sheets and reached out as if to steady Jak. "Slow down, boy, you're going to hurt yourself! You shouldn't even be standing right now!"

Jak, unfortunately, agreed. But he locked his knees and kept his eyes on Phobos's friend, just as he had on Phobos.

"Give it back," he rasped, holding out a demanding hand.

Damas frowned thoughtfully. He picked up the chain and considered it for a few seconds before dropping it into Jak's outstretched hand.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

With time-travel being too unbelievable an explanation even to those closest to Jak, he settled for the most open-ended version of the truth he could manage.

"Ancient ruins," he muttered.

The chain slipped down around his neck, and he visibly relaxed once the familiar weight rested against his collarbone.

Damas made an interested sound and folded his arms. "Ruins, eh? How did you find it?"

Evasively, Jak shrugged. "I just...knew where to look."

"And does this happen to you often? "Knowing" things?"

Hm. He might’ve been a little too open-ended there. Jak braced his back against the wall and begrudgingly clarified.

"I'm not a seer. It's just with eco stuff."

Damas nodded. "Ah! I understand. So what made you decide to keep such an odd little trinket?"

He wasn't being very subtle. Jak could do blunt too.

"It's mine. That's it. And I know what you're trying to do."

A hint of tension lined Damas’s neck and shoulders as he tried to play casual.

"Oh? And what am I trying to do, young one?"

Jak curled his lip at the man. "You're trying to get me to say I'm an Heir of Mar, probably so you can get some of his artifacts. What, do you want the Precursor Stone too? Well you're too late."

Any semblance of relaxation dropped from Damas like a cloak. He straightened, and the air filled with an undercurrent of warning. It was almost like eco -- enough that Jak wondered if the man could channel.

"Explain that, please."

It didn't sound like a request.

"What, exactly, do you know about the Precursor Stone?"

Jak gripped his amulet for calm.

"Not a myth," he said shortly, "Not meant to be used as a weapon, and not a rock."

He lifted his chin and met Damas’s hard eyes.

"I opened it. It can't be used anymore."

"Opened?!" Damas recoiled slightly. "You've touched the Stone?"

Suspicion colored his voice, but strangely he didn't seem to be getting hostile.

"Where did you find it?"

Agitated, Jak snapped, "In a tomb designed by some sadistic obstacle-course lover obsessed with "manhood", guarded by a bunch of loudmouth Oracles. Be glad you missed it."

He wondered if he was just setting himself up for problems later. If the Wastelanders knew he could speak to Oracles and traverse ruins, they'd probably make him pay off the medical care by finding artifacts for them. Story of his life.

But Damas looked shaken by the statement, not shrewd. He seemed almost to pale, and drew a hand over his face to rest over his mouth. His eyes bored into Jak's with an unsettling intensity.

"The amulet truly belongs to you, then," he finally acknowledged, in little more than a croak. His fingers pressed into his jaw hard enough that Jak wondered if the man would have fingerprints there later.

"How...how old are you, boy?"

What did that have to do with anything? Annoyed, Jak shrugged.

"Like I know? Fifteen, sixteen, what's it matter?"

"You don't...you don't know?" Damas looked even more shaken. "No one told you your own birthdate?"

Jak didn't want to talk about this. He finally slumped to sit at the head of the cot and crossed his arms sullenly.

"Y'know what, that's none of your business. Where's Daxter? I'm not saying anything else until I see him."

"I can arrange that."

Damas stood and absentmindedly picked up the wooden cup.

"You should er...try to sleep some. Heat exhaustion will leave you weak for a good several days-"

"Are you Damas?" Jak interrupted suddenly, as Phobos's attempted reassurances came to mind.

Damas turned. "Yes?"

He looked like he almost expected something else to follow.

Jak pulled his knees to his chest and rested folded arms on top of them. "The lady who was in here said you'd explain what you people wanted from me. And why you took my amulet."

The Wastelander looked, Jak thought, rather like he had just swallowed a bee. He made a few awkward hand motions -- some of it almost looked like signs -- and tugged on a tuft of hair at his chin.

"Ah...that is..."

He picked up the pitcher and splashed water into the cup clumsily. He was unsettled.

"The crest of Mar has...connotations. Doubtless you've learned by now, but when people see it they form...expectations."

Damas cleared his throat and handed the cup over to Jak.

"I removed it from you before the monks could see it and develop those expectations. I...wanted you to be able to focus on healing without the distraction of history zealots."

Well, that was marginally better than Jak had been imagining. He didn't exactly trust that the man was telling the truth, but at least he hadn't tried to sell it or something. Jak acknowledged his visitor's words with a curt nod and sipped at the water slowly. Idly, he wondered if his general age fit this city's "too young for serious work" bracket or not. After Haven, he honestly didn't know whether he hoped so or not.

Damas was staring at him. It was subtle, but intense, and Jak could feel his eyes. It made his brain itch, and he felt the urge to squirm uncomfortably.

"Are you in any pain?" Damas asked suddenly, apparently in response to the squirming.

"I don't like being stared at," Jak answered gruffly.

"...ah." Damas cringed and looked away. "Apologies. You just...look very familiar. I was trying to place whether I might have met you or someone you were related to in the past."

"Not unless you were in Haven before Praxis took over," Jak grumbled bitterly, "Or you took a tour of his prison labs in the last two years."

You're talking too much, Jak. Wait for Daxter. Why are you volunteering this information?

Well. He knew. He was scared and disoriented and angry, and he wanted to shock someone. Anyone. It was the dark eco talking.

"The labs?!" Damas dropped the pitcher with a crash. A terrible look flooded his face. "Did...was your whole family there?"

"Rot! Why are you guys so obsessed with information about my parents?" Jak was getting tired of repeating himself. "You know as much as I do! Even the freakin Oracles wouldn't tell me what the amulet meant until I got to the Tomb!"

From the front of the building, the third person finally called out.

"My lord, if you keep getting him worked up, I'm tossing you out. He's supposed to be resting!"

"I'm working on it, Petros!" Damas retorted sharply.

He closed his eyes and made a visible attempt to calm himself before turning back to Jak.

"Sorry. I know this is confusing. I am...having a difficult time finding the right words to ask the right questions." He made a helpless gesture. "Finding you, practically on my doorstep, with that amulet has upended my understanding of the world and my place in it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jak demanded.

Damas gingerly took a seat at the end of the cot again and, sighing deeply, reached into his pouch again.

"The last time I was in Haven for an extended period of time was about fifteen years ago, at the end of the last major campaign against the metalheads."

He opened his hand, revealing a second amulet of Mar in his palm.

"After Praxis betrayed me- after the hardships our city has faced over the last few years-"

He shook his head with furrowed brow.

"I- I thought I was the only one left. And now here you are, and I have more questions than answers."

Jak blinked, then blinked again.

"Well," he said in a strangled voice, "That makes two of us."

#jak and daxter #free day thursday #fic prompts #writing prompts #mistaken identity au #dadmas #king damas #captain phobos #Damas is trying to do the math and he is Very Confused #Phobos is like 'it was the middle of the war and I'm not mad if something happened you can't remember' #but Damas is more freaked out by 'DOES THIS MEAN I'M A DEADBEAT DAD? DOES HE HATE ME? I THINK HE MIGHT HATE ME.' #jak has to deal with both mistaken identity and Damas and Phobos projecting their Mar Feels on him #ironically he IS mar but also he's a teenager and doesn't need this much supervision #Daxter thinks the whole thing is grade A entertainment #he's encouraging this nonsense #at some point Jak gets so confused by his parents' conviction that he starts questioning if Kor lied about him being Mar #but hey he's being treated like an actual kid for once. maaaaaybe spoiled a little bit. #needles tw #tw iv #my edits #digibash #digibash with raya and encanto #fake screenshot #fake screencap

[imaginedreamwrite]

What would you do with this?

This makes me think of a pair of Viking princes/royalty who went with their father to make negations with a village across a fjord/ocean/waterwell

The princes met the lord’s daughter and they spent the following days/weeks playing together like they were best friends. After the deal went sour and the princes were torn away, a tense relationship formed and neither the Viking settlement or the village across the fjord/ocean/waterwell were willing to bend

When reader grows up and its her duty to marry a man to take over responsibility she finds the man putrid and unfitting. She pleads for someone, anyone to intervene to stop the marriage she doesn’t want

The princes take the opportunity to start a war with the village after being threatened by her future husband, and lay siege to the village. They take it under control and kill the men they need to while sparing the women and children

As a Spoil Of War the two princes take the lord’s daughter as their prize and their future bride/queen, as they’re rightfully allowed to do

#Viking au #historical au #Viking x reader #Spoils Of War

[insomnya777]

Hey! I found you though your superhero AU, which i love, by the way! I really enjoy your writing style, so I was wondering what your writing process is, in particular, do you have a plan/outline you follow, or do you have a list of little snippets of writing you want to include, etc. Just really curious!

oh my god the question i've been dreading. so funny thing, for the longest time, i actually didn't have an outline or like. a plan. at all

this wasn't even originally going to be a series, it was just supposed to be the first part 😭 but then people started liking it so much (and i live off of attention and comments) so i decided to make a part two and it kind of skyrocketed from there. did not expect we'd be getting past 20k words this is my longest series ever LMAO

but it's not like i have nothing planned out — like i know what's going to be happen with etho and the agency (to an extent) and i've pretty much got the whole ranchers and gempearl storyline down. but desertduo and boat boys..... i've kinda been taking it part by part.

that however does lead to things being repetitive and getting a little stale. so i've been planning things out more lately, and i'm very pleased to say that now i do have (kind of) an idea on the ending. which i have no idea when is going to happen

#yeah i'm very unorganized #i was honestly not expecting this series to go on for so long #almost two whole months!!!!!! a lot for me #but yes i have no intention of leaving this unfinished 🙏 #i have no idea how i'm going to fix boat boys tho i'm gonna be very honest rn #slightly terrified it's getting a little repetitive. #bfop au #my asks #about around the fourth part of the series i made a notes app page for all the things i want to have in this series #like titles (you like your girls insane is one of my favs) and lines (which i will not spoil cuz i've got some BANGERS) and other details #(like ages #i do have certain parts outlined however #there was going to be a part titled “interlude — xelqua” and it was going to be about grians story #i have so much written for that. idk if it'll be published ever but #yeah it had acts (act i: destruction act ii: salvation act iii: war act iv: peace) #and i had pages upon pages of notes #but for the general story i have very very little

[eightyuh]

i feel like in a modern AU of Wick's End, Glen would be that guy that works loyally at a family-owned business for a long time only to find out that they're actually exploiting his trust when the company hires someone new to do the same job he does but they get paid more. i understand this is pretty specific but i think he's just That Guy

ahhh, i like this interpretation! that could definitely lead to some burnout haha. i wonder what sort of business that would be …

thank u for thinking of my son / submitting HAHA …

#ask #WICK’S END AU #glendale goodwyn #glen #oc #i feel this is better than a modern wick’s end translating to “war veteran” and adjusting to a new disability #would wanna preserve the more burnout messaging portraying an invisible illness than a literal disability #also shush u spoil me haha i got too many aus floating around

[biteofcherry]

Are you kidding me!? Dropping a thought of Warlord Ari with a spoils of war (aka me) made me feral!

I can't. I just. Ugh.

Now look what you did!

*crying in horny*

When his eyes shift from you to the wounded young man on the bench you're ready to stand between them, a need to protect and heal too strong in you to ignore.

But then his gaze turns back to you, pinning you in place.

His eyes are blue as the cornflowers growing in the east meadows, but unlike the delicate flowers this man won't soothe any inflammation.

No, this is a man who makes you burn on purpose.

He prowls towards you, unhurried. Tsks softly at you when you attempt to take a step back.

"Take the boy," he orders the two men who entered your hut behind him.

"He's wounded!" You protest, fearing they'd be taking the boy to death. "He's not a threat in this state."

In a fluid move the man lifts his sword, the flat side of its tip resting just under your chin.

"You've got a soft heart, huh?" His chuckle is soft and dark, caressing like the finest silk you once had a chance to touch when merchants from south came to the market.

"I wonder," he tilts his head to the side and takes a step closer, "are you this soft all over."

His gaze follows the trail of his sword as he slides the blade lower, over the swell of your breasts.

#alexakeyloveloki #Ari Levinson x reader #Ari Levinson #War lord Ari Levinson #Spoils of war trope #Future project #Wild bloom #Future writing project #My fic #My writing #Medieval au

[kittyhasskittles]

Someone saw my Cowbians and asked if I had any Space Lesbians (star wars) ocs. Of course I do you heathen /j (I actually have a couple space lesbians 🤭)

Anyways Star wars Cowbians au bc my friend (who owns Sigrid) and I both love star wars and decided "let's make them space wives too" bc Cowbians weren't enough.

Disclaimer: Sigrid Johnson belongs to a friend of mine and is NOT my oc. I'm just mentally ill and draw them a lot together.

Also don't be afraid to ask me questions guys I love answering things about my ocs 😌

#digital art #art #artists on tumblr #original character #star wars #star wars oc #mando oc #mandalorian oc #space wives #space lesbians #they are fruity in the wild west and in deep space #oc au art #original character au #butch mando lesbian + bisexual crime boss wife #sigrid spoils the shit out of Aura in this AU #they are very much in love #my roman empire #cowbians #yeehaw #aura and sigrid #oc: aura jones