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so what if I said the optimus blurb predates the ironhide blurb, and reader was originally under the guardianship of optimus before duty necessitated his leave, and his subsequent re-assigning of ironhide to reader, because who else would he trust with you?
hello, mentioning TBSkyen's deltarune run made me want to re-watch it, and i forgot he doesnt do analysis until a few chapters in. so. when he doesnt analyze chapter 1 (btw his deltarune playlist is slightly out of order, you gotta scroll a bit to find ch 1 in the playlist but all the chapters are there) or much of chapter 2, uuuuhhhh, sorry for forgetting that lol dont be surprised if you watch the beginning of his run and encounter little to no analysis, it comes later i promise lmao
LOL the both of yall taking turns sending me deltarune asks has me cracking up, I hope the other nonnie sees this too!
If it helps with Deltarune propaganda and you dont mind a single slight spoiler, you can read almost all the ships that person listed as sapphic:
Kris is canonically nonbinary (Fans usually use they/them for Kris. I forget if Kris' pronouns are ever in-game, but I would suspect it would still be they/them used)
Noelle is a she/her
Susie is a she/her
And Ralsei goes by he/him pronouns for all of the game so far, but Ralsei is heavily coded to be a closeted transfemme; especially in this most recent chapter, it is not at all subtle. Thus, it is theorized Ralsei will come out before the game ends(? Or if Ralsei does/doesn't come out, it will be due to the player's choices and how safe Ralsei feels as a result?)
So you could argue any ship between any of them are sapphic and/or a lesbian ship. They're kind of the main characters. I say "kind of" because Kris is implied to not want Noelle to be involved in the story, and thus Noelle isn't as main a character as everyone else listed, but I would regardless argue she is one. So: yay, diversity win! All the main characters can qualify as being lesbians!
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im not the deltarune anon, but i highly recommend watching TBSkyen's gaming channel (2BSkyen) (he is on tumblr btw) for the normal route's lore. he gives really good analysis, and i can see the things he says feeding into the proposed au that you would appreciate
personally, i watch the weird route specifically through SnapCube's VOD channel (SnapCube2). SnapCube is a fantastic one-woman voice-actor. and i needed the breaths of air that is her comedy periodically during the weird route. she doesn't give analysis much, if at all however. that notwithstanding, her normal route content is also good too, but her + TBSkyen would be my recommendation for learning about deltarune
hilariously, art of Kriselle (Kris and Noelle as a ship) is what got me into deltarune. theyre not my favorite ship anymore, now that i have context to why there was so much knight × princess, doomed dynamic. but i always have a soft spot for them, especially in healthier dynamics. i actually ship Krisusie (Kris and Susie. Kris canonically has a one-sided crush if you read between the lines), Suselle (Susie and Noelle. my favorite dumb lesbians), Kralsei (Kris and Ralsei. i just know Ralsei is crushing on Kris while Kris crushes on Susie. i know it), and a polyship of all of them together (and so, we come back to me indirectly shipping Kris and Noelle). but i say all this and, honestly: Kriselle still has the best art, hoooly shit
i also recommend AlphaRad's deltarune multiplayer series (theyre using a mod so theres 3+ players at once) as played on his VOD channel (Alpharad Replays) for a normal route, because it is voice-acted so well, even if there's very little analysis happening. that is just for fun though. i dont think itd feed into the au much, if at all, that series just has a lot of the voices i would consider canon for deltarune personally
okay I really need to check this deltarune thing out…….you and the other deltarune nonnie are working overtime providing all of this information to me….and I am in fact a sucker for lesbian ships….
Ironhide’s obsessed with prissy!reader if that wasn’t made clear. He’s in your space constantly, he’s pissing you off so he at least has your attention one way or the other
Contains: fem-human!reader x Ironhide, dub-con (he licks you), forced proximity + forced Guardian Ironhide, possessive Ironhide, a bit toxic really.
The night is old, cataract-filmed with dark clouding above; moonlight cannot cast upon where you tuck away with Ironhide. Your nails press into folded arms, grasping to yourself in upset. There had been a conference with dinner provided tonight, and you had shown in a lovely dress for the occasion, a lovelier up-do.
Ironhide shifts beside you, silent despite his size, for a greater vantage point to watch from behind the decrepit barn. You shift because your heels have begun to press further into the cold, soft earth.
Around eleven minutes into the drive home, Ironhide sensed the malicious presence of unknown mechs tailing quick and swerved violently down an abandoned road on private property. He had given no forewarning, only a sharp tightening of your seatbelt. And you had yelled at him from within his cabin, livid beyond belief, under the assumption he’d done such a thing on purpose to make you writhe in anger. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Oh, how you loathed this appointed Guardian of yours. Brutish thing that he is, barbaric and uncouth. You believed his garish vehicle form was reflective enough of this, and you’ve told him so during a usual verbal spat. You vindicate this behavior through the sole reasoning that Ironhide tends to initiate most, if not all, arguments.
Your tongue is held behind clenched teeth, for now. The situation you’re presently in could very well end poorly should there be a mishap; there are three Decepticon mechs scouting these damp woods, and Ironhide’s cabled throat is beginning to tense. Perhaps you’re materialistic and shallow, but you are preemptively mourning the loss of your beloved patent-leather heels, should you have to remove them to run. They were expensive, after all.
Beside you, Ironhide ex-vents restrainedly from his slitted intake cavities. In brief moments like this one, he often reminds you of a great, mechanical beast. He is unpredictable, and he will bite.
He, very suddenly, flicks his blue optics to where you stand below him, beside his right lower appendage. Ironhide lifts his scuffed chin slowly in a manner you recognize, and abhor. ‘Don’t fuss,’ he tells you with this. Your reaction, he knows so well: pressed lips, a plush line, and pinched features. His right servos reach down for you, and he aptly watches your disquiet swell. You always threw a fit when he handled you like this, gently or not, but now is not the time, and you’ll hate him more for what he’ll do next.
Ironhide lifts you up his chassis to his chest plate, large palm bearing the infinitesimal weight of your body, heavy thumb across your lap. You squirm in his hold, of course you do, and he presses down only enough to still you. Precious thing you are, though he’d never tell you, he takes this ill-timed moment to look upon you. Oh, how you have not a clue.
The mech leans down, the metal of his face irradiating warmth with the proximity. His optics dim slightly, and you can see the true extent of the damage to his right optic and orbital frame, a visceral reminder of his violent, combatant past. You breathe uncertainly in his grasp.
Ironhide presses further into your space, your small hands raising to hold to the edges of his chin in a display of reluctance, confusion. You try to writhe away again.
“Stop that,” he huffs quietly.
He can smell the Decepticon mechs closing in; he knows they will be able to scent you just as well. Ironhide opens his dermae against your soft abdomen and laves his glossa up your torso, your breasts, and ends at your round cheek. The sound from your throat is a restrained, embarrassed whimper.
Your chest rises feebly, as if in shock. Lips parted, eyes squeezed shut—he’s nearly expecting you to strike his face. Perhaps, you should. He’s left a saliva-wetted path along your body and fitted dress for the primary purpose of concealing your little human scent with his own.
Forgive him, or don’t. He’d rather you didn’t, for Ironhide believes in his own vindictiveness.
He will ruin your dress this once, and maybe once more, for all the times you’ve called him a ‘Brute,’ stiff-backed and prim as you are. He will handle you like so because you are wont to refuse giving up control, stubborn as you are. And, selfishly, he will scent you with his tongue like so as a reminder that you may have no other mech but him.
You push helplessly at his dermae and Ironhide ex-vents again, pale plumes encompassing you before dissipating. Taste neurons capture the molecules upon his tongue, and Ironhide savors them much as a human would: dried satin, perfume alcohol, bared skin. The notes are categorized, differentiated.
You’ll resent him for this, he can see it playing out on your features. You’ll reprimand and curse him to high hell later, surely.
Perhaps you don’t understand now, but Ironhide was placed as your Guardian by Optimus Prime for a reason. And he’s apt to keep this to himself, lest you stop being so enjoyably difficult.
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Contains: fem-human!reader x Ironhide, dub-con (he licks you), forced proximity + forced Guardian Ironhide, possessive Ironhide, a bit toxic really.
The night is old, cataract-filmed with dark clouding above; moonlight cannot cast upon where you tuck away with Ironhide. Your nails press into folded arms, grasping to yourself in upset. There had been a conference with dinner provided tonight, and you had shown in a lovely dress for the occasion, a lovelier up-do.
Ironhide shifts beside you, silent despite his size, for a greater vantage point to watch from behind the decrepit barn. You shift because your heels have begun to press further into the cold, soft earth.
Around eleven minutes into the drive home, Ironhide sensed the malicious presence of unknown mechs tailing quick and swerved violently down an abandoned road on private property. He had given no forewarning, only a sharp tightening of your seatbelt. And you had yelled at him from within his cabin, livid beyond belief, under the assumption he’d done such a thing on purpose to make you writhe in anger. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Oh, how you loathed this appointed Guardian of yours. Brutish thing that he is, barbaric and uncouth. You believed his garish vehicle form was reflective enough of this, and you’ve told him so during a usual verbal spat. You vindicate this behavior through the sole reasoning that Ironhide tends to initiate most, if not all, arguments.
Your tongue is held behind clenched teeth, for now. The situation you’re presently in could very well end poorly should there be a mishap; there are three Decepticon mechs scouting these damp woods, and Ironhide’s cabled throat is beginning to tense. Perhaps you’re materialistic and shallow, but you are preemptively mourning the loss of your beloved patent-leather heels, should you have to remove them to run. They were expensive, after all.
Beside you, Ironhide ex-vents restrainedly from his slitted intake cavities. In brief moments like this one, he often reminds you of a great, mechanical beast. He is unpredictable, and he will bite.
He, very suddenly, flicks his blue optics to where you stand below him, beside his right lower appendage. Ironhide lifts his scuffed chin slowly in a manner you recognize, and abhor. ‘Don’t fuss,’ he tells you with this. Your reaction, he knows so well: pressed lips, a plush line, and pinched features. His right servos reach down for you, and he aptly watches your disquiet swell. You always threw a fit when he handled you like this, gently or not, but now is not the time, and you’ll hate him more for what he’ll do next.
Ironhide lifts you up his chassis to his chest plate, large palm bearing the infinitesimal weight of your body, heavy thumb across your lap. You squirm in his hold, of course you do, and he presses down only enough to still you. Precious thing you are, though he’d never say, he takes this ill-timed moment to look upon you. Oh, how you have not a clue.
The mech leans down, the metal of his face irradiating warmth with the proximity. His optics dim slightly, and you can see the true extent of the damage to his right optic and orbital frame, a visceral reminder of his violent, combatant past. You breathe uncertainly in his grasp.
Ironhide presses further into your space, your small hands raising to hold to the edges of his chin in a display of reluctance, confusion. You try to writhe away again.
“Stop that,” he huffs quietly.
He can smell the Decepticon mechs closing in; he knows they will be able to scent you just as well. Ironhide opens his dermae against your soft abdomen and laves his glossa up your torso, your breasts, and ends at your round cheek. The sound from your throat is a restrained, embarrassed whimper.
Your chest rises feebly, as if in shock. Lips parted, eyes squeezed shut—he’s nearly expecting you to strike his face. Perhaps, you should. He’s left a saliva-wetted path along your body and fitted dress for the primary purpose of concealing your little human scent with his own.
Forgive him, or don’t. He’d rather you didn’t, for Ironhide believes in his own vindictiveness.
He will ruin your dress this once, and maybe once more, for all the times you’ve called him a ‘Brute,’ stiff-backed and prim as you are. He will handle you like so because you are wont to refuse giving up control, stubborn as you are. And, selfishly, he will scent you with his tongue like so as a reminder that you may have no other mech but him.
You push helplessly at his dermae and Ironhide ex-vents again, pale plumes encompassing you before dissipating. Taste neurons capture the molecules upon his tongue, and Ironhide savors them much as a human would: dried satin, perfume alcohol, bared skin. The notes are categorized, differentiated.
You’ll resent him for this, he can see it playing out on your features. You’ll reprimand and curse him to high hell later, surely.
Perhaps you don’t understand now, but Ironhide was placed as your Guardian by Optimus Prime for a reason. And he’s apt to keep this to himself, lest you stop being so enjoyably difficult.
ill with thoughts of ironhide and his difficult, prissy little human woman he has to play guardian to….he resents you for your stiff-backed, little-miss-prim-and-proper attitude. and you loathe to tolerate his brutish, animalistic behavior….vehemence so persistent you just can’t stand to leave one another alone, often to the point where ironhide presses, and presses—waiting for the day you finally bare your small human canines at him. you’re both animals of a certain kind, aren’t you? and he’s grown tired of your rigid act
i have fallen down a Deltarune-loving hole and there is a part of the game that i think youd be very interested in called "the weird route"
mostly because i can see you making it into an AU for your favorite blorbos to be in Kris' place as the player forces Kris into actions with Noelle that Kris canonically does not want to do, Kris wants to protect Noelle from all this but the player wont let Kris do that, and for Reader to be in Noelle's, and theyre two childhood friends who just get all fucked up and pseudo-dark-romantic mixed with pseudo-"No Children" by Mountain Goats with it, and Kris and Noelle develop this snarling doggish Knight who "cant do anything right, cant protect anyone" × corrupted Princess turning insane energy that is all co-dependent and suicide-pact-y exclusively within the said "weird route"
idk if youd actually be into the characters themselves or the lore of the game. id like to think "yes" but idk for sure bc i think assuming one way or the other would err towards parasocial
but as an AU premise for you to stick your fave ×Readers into??
that, i admittingly do feel confident about
yes….yes………….im seeing a lot of words I like here…….fucked up and dark romance…………dog adjacent knight……..corrupted princess……yes………..yes………..I’m intrigued, consider my interest piqued, thank you my lovely nonnie for bringing this to my attention, I shall look into this yes indeed
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not proud to say it, woman enough to admit it, I’ve been reading transformers smut for nearly half the day rotting away in my bed and expanding my palette of characters
