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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly, whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle.

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #mcu bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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mikaela-the-slut-expert · 5 months

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The First Glance

Hua Cheng x M!Reader x Xie Lian

Honestly I'm just having a go at this and I'm technically writing about my OC. If people notice it that's good. if they don't well😔. So don't hate on me 🖤✨

Mentions of the reader having a veil and white hair, facial scars.

No one has requested any stories from me I wrote this for my own pleasure. So if you want something that isn't for an OC and is for a reader then come tell me and I'll write you something 😋

I keep editing the story cuz I keep forgetting details 😭✊ bear with me plz.

Míngqín means song bird it's Y/n's nickname

Previous part: Tea Shop

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You've been by Xie Lian's side for a long time. You've been his guard for as long as you can remember, and a god under him for even longer. A very long time actually, so you'd like to think you know him well enough to predict his movements. Apparently not.

You're at Puqi shrine, cleaning the place up and fixing dinner for you and Xie Lian. You chose to stay while Xie Lian went and to go investigate a ghost groom who was kidnapping brides. It's since then turned dark and when Xie Lian turns up, there's another man with him. You weren't expecting Xie Lian to bring someone home with him, nor were you expecting the strange man to stay the night.

The strange man's name is actually San Lang, but you still think he's strange anyways. After scolding Xie Lian for bringing someone home without any warning you serve dinner at the makeshift table you came up with. You give San Lang yours, you don't really need to eat. You're a heaven official and being with Xie Lian has you used to it anyhow.

"Thank you for making dinner Míngqín, I wouldn't have minded making it myself", Xie Lian says. You cringe at the thought though. You wave a hand, "not necessary I've got it". You sit down and observe as they both eat. Xie Lian and San Lang chat about something but you aren't paying attention. You're staring at San Lang, it's strange how fast the man has clung himself to Xie Lian. You've never seen him before and yet he so easily acts as if he's known Xie Lian forever.

You look away, thoughts straying to the bed laying on the floor. If it can even be called that it's more like a mat. Are all three of you going to sleep on it? Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you notice San Lang staring at you. He can't possibly see your face not with the veil you've hidden it behind, but the way he's staring at you makes it feel like he's trying to. It doesn't feel like anything bad or alarming, just unnerving. People don't look at you. They usually stray their eyes away, but San Lang does not.

You leave the table, and lie on the mat. Xie Lian and San Lang will eventually lay down too. You take the middle spot. It makes the most sense, you don't want Xie Lian to be in danger. He's always been kind and you don't want that to back fire on him. You figure it's most safe if you stay between San Lang and Xie Lian.

You are already 'asleep', you aren't of course but you're breathing and heartbeat all sound as if you are. You technically don't need sleep but it's still nice to rest sometimes. You can hear San Lang talk about the missing painting on the wall. There's not yet a painting of the God of Scraps, but Xie Lian ushers San Lang to go to sleep instead.

Xie Lian lies to your right, you can tell. After all you've been sleeping next to each other for years. San Lang lies to your left, leaving you stuck in the middle. It's uncomfortable. You aren't worried about your veil slipping off, it's yours to manipulate and you've long since mastered being able to make the veil comfortable on your face. It's the closeness that bothers you.

You haven't really been in anyone's company other than Xie Lian's. No one else tends to like you, not the officials and not ghosts. That's fine you don't like them either but this sudden presence is new and you've never liked touch in the first place. Touch is scary. It always has been since the fall of XianLe. It makes you want to puke. Xie Lian is the only exception to this, seeing as you've been around him your whole life.

It's not that repulsive actually. For whatever reason San Lang's closeness doesn't seem to make you want to hurl. His breath down the back of your neck however makes you nervous. If you weren't a ghost your heart would be beating fast. You can feel him staring holes into you but you play sleep anyways.

"You're not truly asleep are you?" You internally huff as San Lang asks. You didn't think you were bad at it. You ignore him and continue hoping he'll believe your lie. It's not until a shuffle on your right, and a harsh grip on your robes make you realize San Lang isn't talking to you.

"It's not like I was fake sleeping San Lang" you can feel Xie Lian sit up a bit. "You aren't asleep either" Xie Lian exclaims. You can't see of course your eyes are closed even behind the veil you're worried they'd see your eyes open.

"I was too busy staring at your assistant" his voice takes on a teasing tone. 'Assistant' is what Xie Lian had told San Lang you are. Xie Lian is supposed to be a priest for himself and your alias is to be Xie Lian's assistant. Of course it's not who you truly are. You're truly the God of Song and Xie Lian is truly the God of Scraps. San Lang wouldn't know that though.

Your stomach drops when you feel San Lang's hand start to tinker with your veil. You're about to give it all up to move away but a big clap happens right over your face. You suppose it's time to give it up for the night. You open your eyes, and look up at the clasped hands above you. Xie Lian's holding San Lang's, most likely trying to move his hand away.

"Ah I'm sorry we woke you Míngqín, San Lang just needed a blanket he was cold..." Xie Lian smiles down at you. You nod, "It's okay. Let's go back to sleep then." San Lang only laughs to himself and lies back down. You and Xie Lian lay back down too. The night eventually calms again.

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When morning comes, you realize you fell asleep and when you get out of bed you see that Xie Lian and San Lang have already gotten out of bed. You get up as well and you change your veil. The veil is often changed, you don't like keeping the same design everyday. Some veils cover your whole face, and some veils leave your eyes unhidden. Today you choose a veil that only covers your nose and mouth.

You're ready to go outside until something in the corner of your eye stops you. A painting of Xie Lian back when he was Prince in XianLe..? Did San Lang really paint that? Now it's obvious San Lang isn't a mortal. No one would be able to paint it so accurately from 800 years ago.

You admire it for a minute and then go outside. San Lang and Xie Lian are standing by a cut wood pile. They both turn their heads toward you.

"Good morning Míngqín", "morning y/n". You nod back, noticing San Lang's hair is loose.

"Your hair will surely get caught if you don't put your hair up, San Lang" you haven't really spoken to San Lang the whole time since he's been here but you don't hate him. He did somehow make that painting after all. "Let me fix your hair San Lang" Xie Lian offers. He leads San Lang back inside to a bucket of water.

You know Xie Lian is checking if San Lang is a ghost, but San Lang looks like he is enjoying himself, "Are you just going to play with my hair gege?" Xie Lian is quick to get flustered and he puts San Lang's hair into a very messy braid. It looks messier than before.

You don't pay attention to the fact San Lang has started calling Xie Lian 'gege'. You snicker quietly at Xie Lian's flustered face, as he waves his hands telling San Lang he's all done with his hair. Xie Lian is not very good at doing hair, but San Lang looks happy with it. You don't bother offering to fix it.

"A-Lian it's your turn, come sit". You pat the stool. Xie Lian cooperates and you start combing through his hair. You've always brushed out Xie Lian's hair. He doesn't know how to get the knots out. Xie Lian used to just leave the knots there until you forced him to sit down one day so you could brush it out.

When you're finished brushing his hair you tie it up in his usual half bun-half down hairstyle. You step away from him and notice San Lang staring at you. It seems he's very good at staring.

"You should let gege do your hair as well y/n" you grunt and shake your head. No way you were letting Xie Lian put knots in your hair. You love him very much but you also love your hair.

"No it's alright" you wave a hand but San Lang insists. "I can fix your hair then. Gege did my hair, and you did Gege's. I'll do yours" he smiles. It sounds like generosity, but you've found whatever San Lang says sounds like teasing. You almost shake your head no, but San Lang looks like he really wants to indulge.

"I... Suppose" you hesitate. To fix your hair you would have to take off your veil and only Xie Lian has seen your face and even he hasn't seen it in so long. San Lang is very gentle when he removes your veil, as if he's touching something that will shatter. You cover your mouth with your sleeve. To hide the scars, you don't want them to be seen.

Your thoughts are interrupted by San Lang's fingers running through your hair. He combs it out gently. "Your hair is very beautiful y/n, has gege ever told you?" This flusters you, if you actually had the ability to blush then blood would have colored your cheeks. You have strange hair, it's long but it's white. It's always been like that but after ascending the officials were not your biggest fans. Especially since you stayed with Xie Lian. So they often make remarks about your appearance not that it bothers you.

"Thank you" you notice Xie Lian looking at you. You're eyes are the only thing that can be seen but he's still soaking up what you've hidden for the past hundreds of years before you hide it behind a veil again.

"How come this one hides his face?" San Lang asks as he does something with your hair. You don't know how to answer that so you redirect, "Does San Lang want to see it that bad?" He only laughs at this, and he moves into your field of vision. "I'm all finished. Gege take a look at y/n's hair is it nice?" You want to see what it looks like. You look into the bucket of water.

San Lang put your hair into a braid. He's tied your hair with a red ribbon, it must be San Lang's but you'll keep it. He gave it to you so it's only fair. You run your hands over the braid. Your hair hasn't been styled in a long time, there was never a reason to put it up after all. Your hair is usually left loose.

"it's very pretty San Lang. Míngqín why don't you keep the veil off?" Xie Lian cocks his head to the side. "Yes, there's no reason to hide your face." You furrow your brows, you could keep it off. You're just scared to have your scars out in the open. "... I'll think about it."

You hesitate, but you remove your hand from covering your mouth. To you, your face has been ruined. Your mouth has been slashed from a sword from a very long time ago. Scars line over your lips. You wished that they were pretty scars, with neat lines. They are not though. It's not so bad to show your face to San Lang and Xie Lian.

They stare at you, Xie Lian's look you can understand. You don't understand San Lang's look, he looks as if he's trying to soak up the details of your face too. As if your face is something he hasn't seen in such a long time. You've never met San Lang though...

Now that everyone's hair is fixed, San Lang is an exception to that - y/n giggles every time he sees it - , now they can start their morning. It's a good start to the day and Y/n thinks that San Lang has fit himself quite well into their routine.

Even though San Lang is a new addition to your group he makes it very easy to like him. Especially with how much he clings to Xie Lian's side, but San Lang also seems to be clinging to you too.

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Criticism or comments plzzzz, I want to know if anyone enjoyed it or if there are ways I can make it better. I also want to know if people want to continue seeing the story! Also don't forget you can request me for stuff! 🖤✨

Maple Robes and Lace Veils

#hualian x reader #hua cheng x reader #xie lian x reader #tgcf headcanon #tgcf x male reader #hualian #tgcf #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf xie lian #notice me pls

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vivwritesfics · 21 days

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Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Four - Not-Bob

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner) (Specifically this chapter has 0 warnings, it's just cute)

Series Masterlist

"You officially dress like a grandpa."

On the two other times they had met, she had been at the café before him, almost like she was waiting for him. This time, though, Bob was there first. He had her hazelnut latte with oat milk and a black coffee in front of him.

When she took off her bag and sat opposite him, Bob pushed the hazelnut latte towards her. "You know," she began as she settled into her seat. "I come here to write. You're making it really hard, Bobby," she said, wearing a smile. "But thank you."

Bob gave it a second. "You owe me a name," he said, one hand around his coffee shop mug.

"You're a terrible stalker." She shook her head, grin widening as she took another sip. It was perfect, her exact order. But then she gave him her name.

Bob repeated it back to her, letting it roll off the tongue. "It's nice," he said. "Nicer than Bob."

"Shut up," she said quickly. But it wasn’t malicious in any way. "If you don't like it, why does everybody call you Bob?"

Bob brought his coffee to his lips. "It's my Callsign," he said as he took in a too big sip, burning his mouth in the process. But Bob ignored the sensation as he looked at her.

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "What's a Callsign?"

"It's pretty much a nickname that's used for identification. There's probably loads of Roberts on a carrier at any one time but I'm the only Bob," he said and adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit.

She folded her arms over her chest, holding her elbows as she looked at him. "Well, I like Bob," she said, reaching for her coffee. "It's... nice." She couldn't tell him it was cute, even if that was what she meant.

Bob looked around at the café. On the two previous occasions they had met, she had been alone. Even now she was sitting with Bob. Not friends, not her boyfriend. She was alone, aside from Bob.

"What do you do for fun around here?" Bob asked as he leaned forward.

She let out a laugh, but only a weak one. "What do I do for fun? What do you do for fun, Mr Pilot Guy?"

"I go to The Hard Deck," Bob answered.

He stared at her as he waited for her to answer. But, for the first time since they had met, he had left her without anything to say.

Her eyes met his as she fiddled with her cream, cuffed sleeve of her sweater. "Is it... do you guys really have fun in there?" She asked him.

Bob's brows furrowed behind his glasses. "I thought you said you'd been there."

"I have!" She said quickly. "But, you know, it wasn’t all that fun," the last part she said quietly.

That look crossed her face again, the one she wore when he had asked about the book. As much Bob wanted to reach across and touch her hand, he didn’t. "You could come with us, if you'd like. I'd make sure Hangman behaves."

"Yeah," she responded quietly. "I might take you up on that."

She quickly changed the subject, making things light and fun once again. She asked him about Montana, she had so many questions about Montana. Bob answered all of them. He told her about his grandparents farm, about the little house at the bottom of the property. When he was eighteen he had promised his Grandma that he would fix it up, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet. But he had certainly meant to.

She checked the time on her phone periodically, comparing it to the sky. Watching for when it got dark, Bob figured. He had hoped that, once again, he'd get to walk her home.

But, when the sky turned orange, she stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I've got to go," she said with a smile. "Thanks for the coffee, Bob."

He stood up with her, bumping the table as he did so. "Do you want me to walk you home? I'm more than happy to," he said, but she shook her head.

"It's okay," she replied and looked at the sky as it turned orange. "It's not dark yet."

But, still, Bob wasn't quite ready to say goodbye. "It's on my way home. It really wouldn't be a-"

"I said no, Bob," she said suddenly, firmly. "Drop it."

Bob just watched her as she walked out of the cafe, shoving her hands into her pockets as she walked down the street. As soon as he couldn't see her, he walked out of the cafe and climbed into his truck. He watched her in his rearview mirror, at least until she turned the corner.

Bob couldn’t help but sigh as he drove off, heading in the other direction to his apartment. He hadn't meant to lie about where he lived and, while it felt harmless at the time, Bob regretted it.

When she disappeared, he let out a sigh and began driving back to his house, back to Frodo. Did she like cats, he found himself wondering. Would she like Frodo if she met him? Frodo would like her. He'd attached himself to the few women that had come into his little house.

***

On the Monday, Bob volunteered for the coffee run yet again. He was already patting his wallet as he began walking out to his truck.

But a hand on his shoulder stopped him. "I'll get it, Baby Bob," said Jake. He gave Bob no time to respond as he climbed into his own car.

"Wait!" Bob called as he watched the car disappear. "Hangman!"

Jake wasn't getting the coffee out of the goodness of his heart. He wasn't doing it to pay Bob back for all of the times he had paid for coffee. He wasn't doing it to give Bob time to prepare for his next lesson at Top Gun.

When Bob was gone for all of those hours on Saturday, he and Natasha had been discussing all sorts of theories. After going in circles, they narrowed in on the cute barista with the pink hair.

Jake parked up outside of the cafe. He climbed out of the car and strode in with the confidence of a saltwater crocodile (a notoriously confident animal).

He didn't spot the cute barista with the pink hair right away. His eyes scanned behind the counter as he stepped up to it. He rang the bell, waiting for someone to serve him.

The cute barista with the pink hair came around the corner. "Hey there," she said with a charming smile.

Jake didn't know what Bob's type was, didn't know that his type was sitting on one of the tables behind him, writing in her newly acquired notebook.

Jake wore his award winning, charming smile as he looked at her name tag. "Hello," he squinted at her name tag, "Mariana," he said, drumming his fingers against the counter top. "Can I get three black coffees?"

Immediately she turned to make coffee. "Do you like a man in uniform, Mariana?" He asked.

"Sure, hun," she said and placed the first coffee in a cup holder on the counter in front of him.

"Yeah," Jake muttered as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, one of my fellow aviators has been coming in here a lot," he said. "You haven't seen him, have you? These geeky glasses, Callsign Bob?"

Mariana wore a contemplative expression as she placed the other two coffees in the cup holder.

"Yeah," she finally said, nodding. "Yeah. A hazelnut oat latte and either a black coffee or a tea," she said, looking past Jake. But her eyes quickly went back to him as she rang him up.

He pulled the money from his wallet. "So, Bob hasn't been flirting with you?" He asked with his brows furrowed.

Mariana couldn't stop the laugh from leaving her lips. "I wish," she said to him. "Hasn't he gotten a girlfriend? He always gets his drinks and then sits on one of the back tables with a girl in a knit sweater."

Jake picked up his coffees, thanked her and walked out of the cafe. He climbed into his car and looked back towards the café. Girl in a sweater. He was looking for a girl in a knit sweater.

Of the three people sitting in the café, none of them were wearing a knit sweater.

Jake let out a sigh as he drove away.

She had noticed him the moment he had walked into the cafe. His khaki uniform was the same as what Bob was wearing when they first met, when he threw the coffee over her. She couldn't help but hope it was him, until she looked at his face.

She was crushed with disappointment.

When Not-Bob started talking to the barista, she tried not to listen in. It wasn't her business what this navy man was talking about. He wasn't Bob, so why should she care? Even if it was Bob, she shouldn't be caring if he was flirting with Mariana.

But then Not-Bob mentioned Bob's name, and she couldn't stop herself from listening in. The questions that Not-Bob directed at Mariana, she couldn't help but think that they should have been directed at her.

She sipped her hazelnut oat latte, pen still against the paper as she listened. When Mariana told Not-Bob about her sweater, she grinned, holding back a laugh. Oh yeah, they were definitely talking about her.

Not-Bob thanked Mariana and walked out of the café. She watched him sit in his car for a moment before he drove away.

When he was gone, she closed her notebook and tucked her pen into the binder rings. Slipping her notebook back into her bag she stood up and left the cafe, making her way back to her office.

As she sat at her desk, she stared at the phone. All she wanted was for it to ring, just for something to do. Her notebook, the one that Bob had bought for her, was in front of her, open once again, but she didn't write in it, not with how her boss was staring at her from the office.

The phone finally rang and she directed the call to the salesman. At the sight of her finally doing her job, her boss looked away and she began writing in the notebook.

If she had been clever, she would have gotten Bob to give her his number. God knows she would have spent all day texting him if she had his number.

But then, if she did have his number, how long until Ken found out? How long until Ken broke this phone, just like the last phone she had?

She knew she had to get Bob's phone number, but she wanted to put it off. When Ken found out about Bob, there was no telling what he would do. There was no way she would ever see Bob after, and she enjoyed his company far too much for that.

She would go to The Hard Deck. Ken be damned, she'd go. It was all planned out in her head, what she would do and how she would do it.

All through the work day she imagined how that night would go. Drinking with him, meeting his friends. It sounded like a perfect night, better than any night she had spent with Ken in a long time.

But the more she thought about it, the more anxiety settled in her stomach.

Her boss cleared her throat and she picked up the phone, one she hadn't noticed was ringing.

Taglist: @biancathecool @not-nyasa @burningwitchprincess @darksparklesficrecs @primroseluna @littlemsbumblebee @wretchedmo @imaginecrushes @calpalsbestie

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #rober floyd fluff #robert floyd x you #robert bob floyd #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun bob #lewis pullman

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bonefall · 3 months

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For Flowerstem vs Maplewhisker, maybe they're both present and one is like… an aide to whichever is the deputy? Not officially, but in the midst of All That they just happen to be helping/supporting the other, and are a clear choice of new deputy once the dust settles.

They're not necessarily friends at the start, either acquaintances that grow closer through a shared sense of "someone has to keep things working", or maybe even rivals of a sort- they don't get along great initially, but they respect each other, and it turns out they're willing to back each other up when it matters (+ the value of having a second-in-command who's willing to disagree with you)

idk i'm just spitballing here tbh

I layed around and daydreamed about it for a bit, and I think this is a great idea. I have even more thoughts to share as fragments;

To start with, I'm thinking Flowerstem is going to be the Winner of the Conflict, and Maplewhisker is going to become her friend and future deputy. Mothpelt is going to be the oldest heir*, who dies of poisoning along with a few of his children.

And to reiterate, Jumpfoot is the descendant of Riverstar's firstborn child, and Mossfire is his adopted heir.

Renames to get the names more in-line with where they were at this period in history;

BB!Flowerstem -> Flowers Came First. Nickname: Flow. A River Kingdom title. Comes from a translation quirk. "Stem," prryem, is the place where plants erupt from the ground in modern Clanmew. Over many generations, influenced by the story of Redscar's sign, "Came" and "First" merge into a single word, Prryem. Eventual winner of the conflict.

BB!Maplewhisker -> Maple Whisker A Mountain Cat name. Actually a reference to the odd saplings that were planted in SkyClan's territory (and is now ThunderClan's). Maple might be a migrant from SkyClan or a second-generation descendant of them, so a more accurate translation would be Sycamore Whisker, but the translator chooses to abide by the precedent set by Mapleshade. Flow's future deputy. (I don't currently have a Mountain family with the Whisker last name, I might end up making it something that came from a Mountain x Forest/Park blended family, as a Mountain cat wanted to name half of the kits for their mate as is tradition.)

BB!Mothpelt* -> Dead Moths Pelt. Nickname: Moth (though I'm easily tempted by funny into making it Moe.) Another River Kingdom title, for the irony factor. It's actually a reference to how he rescued a ton of pelts from a moth infestation, by recognizing they were laying eggs and stopping them before they hatched. Hard to translate into just three words, because in Parkmew it was "Killed (the) moths (to save the) pelts." * = Watch this space. Might change in a future draft.

BB!Jumpfoot -> Jumping Foot Nickname: Jump Actually from WindCo. I haven't worked out the meaning behind this title yet. I'm going to make it so Duststar is supporting this cat for leadership; they might even be slightly related. Cousins, perhaps.

BB!Mossfire -> Mossfire Alight Only given recently, when Moss set her own fire for the very first time. Barely out of apprenticeship, but very popular. Riverstar's adopted child.

(I also need to pick the ThunderClan "Diplomat" character.)

More fragments and assorted thoughts;

(Three parts: Opening, Middle Stuff, and Redscar's Choice)

Opening and political setup:

BB!Flowerstem, Flow, is kind of like an older sibling/nanny of Moss. She was an apprentice of King Riverstar, and unofficially trusted to watch over Moss, who is considerably younger than she is. She wasn't formally adopted by King Riverstar but he always felt like a father to her.

BB!Jumpfoot, Jump, is from WindCo. Riverstar's firstborn was not legitimate, who lived a long and happy life as a traveler going between the various groups.

Riverstar is actually Jump's great-great-grandfather, but Jump is an accomplished, confident warrior who's just young enough to have a long rule, but experienced enough to make Mossfire look like a child in comparison.

And, importantly, Duststar wants Jump in power.

When Riverstar is on his deathbed, Flow, Moth, and Moss are there. Jump actually blows in later, and the Unnamed ThunderClan Diplomat.

The Diplomat is going to be one who does the poisoning later. Jump is REALLY easy to pin the blame on, because he's aggressive and kind of arrogant.

Through the story, Flow is trying to protect both Moss AND keep the River Kingdom functioning. Without even realizing it, people keep coming to her for advice.

Maple Whisker is her really good ally through all this. I'm not sure how they're going to begin, they COULD be rivals, but the important thing is that Maple and Flow naturally end up supporting each other.

While Flow is trying to keep Moss safe and fend off the other Heirs who are showing up looking to make claims to power, Maple is handling a lot of the logistical things.

Flow is an excellent "face." Her judgement is generally influential.

She's kind and compassionate, and it means that she's able to smooth out conflict in a way that King Riverstar used to be able to.

And there are a LOT of fights to break up.

Jump is a complete troublemaker already trying to assert his claim, and he's got cats to back him up.

Moss, who is really trying to be fair here, often gets pulled into fights.

FLOW'S biggest "flaw" is that she's honest. At some point she even admits, "Moss is really not ready for leadership. She needs more time before she has this responsibility."

unfortunately, opportunists and blood-loyalists who don't believe "adopted" can count as legitimate jump on that. Mossfire resents this, even though Flow is right, and she IS in waaay over her head.

But, thankfully, there's still an option.

The Eldest (currently living) direct child of Riverstar, Dead Moth Pelt, Moth, is the obvious alternative. He's older, speaks highly of his father, has connections to the River Kingdom.

And, importantly, he's got kittens of his own. Easy choice! They'll continue the dynasty and we won't have to worry about this again.

They're Just Like The Wind Runner

(jump and duststar disliked this)

.....hmmmmm. You know what would be cool?

The ThunderClan Diplomat being one of these kids.

Maybe in a future draft the Diplomat will be Mothpelt, and the ELDEST will be Beechstar. Maybe their name can be Beech Shore.

Add some more messy dynamics here, have it that Mothpelt "wants to avenge!" the father he actually killed.

But ANYWAY. This draft first.

Moth is a showman and a people-pleaser. He decides he wants to have a party to honor his father's life,

At this celebration, Moth's direct family all eats from the same, very special pot.

Everyone in this family is poisoned. None of them are able to make the trip to the Moonstone, and one-by-one, Moth and his kits succumb to it.

(except, of course, the diplomat, if he ends up being a descendant of The Eldest.)

The Diplomat, whoever they are, makes the obvious accusation;

Jumping Foot did this.

MIDDLE STUFF

All this while, I think Flow should be realizing there's something wrong with the Diplomat. But there's ALSO a lot wrong with Jumping Foot

As Jumping Foot becomes unpopular, his supporters are rallying around him and the accusations are starting to get thrown around

Re: It's VERY useful that Flow remains the only POV here, realizing that the fighting and the fracturing factions are starting to affect the function of the River Kingdom

Maple Whisker is by her side, constantly running to come fetch her to break up fights and arguments

Dens aren't getting maintained, cats are going hungry as there's no one really "in charge" of making meals for everyone

I want to make sure it's clear that it's not an "ABANDON OLD PEOPLE" situation. It's Flow laying it out directly;

"Everyone who isn't part of a large family is suffering. You HAVE to pick a side in order to have access to good food and shelter... and Jumping Foot is backed up by the Wind Coalition!"

In this shuffle, she's having a hard time protecting Moss, who's getting sick and tired of her Kingdom being yanked around.

She's growing up quick, having to work with Flow to take care of the cats in the Kingdom, but it's also making her more aggressive. Less patient.

Through The Diplomat, ThunderClan also begins to stick their nose in, which The Diplomat frames as "aid, they are our allies after all. Ties to them run deep, unlike those of the Wind Coalition."

Flow starts to realize that between these two huge coalitions, backed by outside forces, the River Kingdom will get absorbed.

In the shuffle, Flow and Mossfire Alight are starting to break apart. They used to be close, but the stress is making Moss aggressive and short-fused.

She NEVER used to start fights like this, but now Flow is finding herself trying to stop her previously so openminded charge from escalating conflicts.

It's a complete lost cause. There's no way Mossfire is going to be able to come out on top between two very powerful choices, backed up by other Clans

Most River Kingdom cats DO actually believe that it would have been King Riverstar's will for his adopted heir to take over. They disagree on if that's the right choice, or if an adopted one can be legitimate at all, or, WORST of all, if they even CAN support her when a lot of their food and supplies are coming from ThunderClan and WindCo

This comes to a boil when SkyClan charges in for a surprise attack, seeking to claim the territory before it's fully absorbed by the other two.

Because the River Kingdom's camp was on the Sunningrocks, an island in the middle of the river, this battle is CHAOTIC and DEADLY

The island was almost too small to hold all of the reinforcements and MORE AND MORE kept coming, packing in like sardines

The fighting was spilling over onto the banks, over the log bridge, a fight almost as dense and even more SUDDEN than The First Battle

Noncombatants were getting swept up into the fighting, no one knowing who they were supposed to be fighting against, some cats just jumping on those they didn't like, cats who couldn't swim were getting launched into the water

Flow and Maple Whisker can't SAVE all of them

And in the brawl, Mossfire leapt on the cat who she felt had been making her life hell, who KILLED Moth and his children, who needed to DIE

Jumping Foot was happy to return the sentiment, ready to eliminate this bloodless brat once and for all

As they tussled and tumbled, they crashed into the waves, biting and scratching, not realizing that their crowns had become tangled.

Mossfire tries to break the water for a breath, but Flow only sees her back breach the surface before getting dragged under

She leaps back in to try and save her, trying to pull her up, but Jumping Foot is a WindCo cat who doesn't know how to avoid drowning. He grabs at Mossfire in a panic, joined at the crown, and Flow can't pull them both up

The last time Flow sees Mossfire is in that terrified, tangled image, sinking down to the depths, seemingly locked in eternal combat down to the bottom of the river.

Redscar's Choice

When we cut back to Flowers Come First and Maple Whisker, Flow is absolutely haunted.

It seemed like the "obvious" choice was The Diplomat... but after that awful fight, an emergency gathering had to take place.

EVERY Clan lost warriors. ShadowClan was demanding to know why-- as they were the only one not officially involved in the fight, and even THEY are missing warriors.

WindCo has the most losses, and Duststar is VERY quiet. Jumping Foot's death shook him. There wasn't even a body to bury, and he hasn't gotten word on if Jump's gone to StarClan or not.

He's quiet because the guilt is eating him from the inside out. He's doing some sort of prayer behavior, quietly, as if he doesn't even seem to realize he's doing it.

(probably keeping his whiskers tilted upwards at the stars, twitching whenever the breeze hits them.)

ThunderClan's leader seems more frustrated than anything. Flow interprets this negatively, like they just want to get on with it and claim River Kingdom as their own.

(in truth, it's more likely this leader is annoyed with The Diplomat's meddling, the Kingdom isn't a prize they really want, they just honored an alliance and lost a ton of warriors for the trouble. But what matters is what Flow feels about them.)

SkyClan got absolutely humiliated. They were the catalyst for the battle but were quickly overwhelmed, and the current leader just took a MASSIVE reputation hit. It's not the Era of Skystar any longer.

(someone makes a xenophobic comment about "Jump back up into your trees, gray squirrels")

Maple Whisker, in a quick-thinking effort to avoid The Diplomat being officiated, calls upon a neutral party. Redscar of ShadowClan.

If mortals cannot figure out the rightful heir, then surely, StarClan must.

Duststar jumps on this immediately.

Diplomat doesn't like it, but it doesn't matter, because the ThunderClan leader does. Speaks right over them.

Over a couple of days, Redscar "deliberates" by visiting River Kingdom to "spend time under their stars."

But what he's REALLY doing is checking out how the Kingdom runs. And he's really gentle with Flow, in particular, like he's very interested in her.

When she questions why, he lies, "You have spirits around you."

This gets her to open up about how close she was to so many of the cats that died, explain how hard she's worked to keep it all together. How much she misses Mossfire, how she feels she failed her.

And King Riverstar, and Moth, and his poor kits.

I feel like The Diplomat is probably constructing signs to try and appeal to Redscar, thinking he's looking for them, but Redscar is NOT looking for signs. He's actually ignoring them completely.

This is going to be remembered as "seeing through false omens" but in truth, he was not interested in what StarClan actually had to say here, if they even did say anything.

(King Riverstar, as a patron, is remembered as NOTORIOUSLY silent. He never says anything directly.)

What Redscar ultimately concludes is, "It seems you and Maple Whisker have ruled together this whole time, with your leadership and her stewardship, it was almost strong enough to keep the Kingdom together."

Flow makes a remark that it sure didn't turn out well, if that's the case.

"Through no fault of yours."

Shortly afterwards, he constructs the False Sign which selects her as a leader. Redscar also insists that, because she did not rule alone, Maple Whisker must become a "deputy," as they have in ShadowClan.

She agrees to this term, justifying it by saying that it is sort of like an advisor role, which she used to be... but it's not. It's quite different.

This law is eventually adopted as Commandment 3: The Law of the Deputy. That all Clans must have a Leader, and a Deputy. The Deputy must be appointed before Moonhigh, and to become a Deputy, you must have once been responsible for young lives.

(This is in honor of Flow's relationship to Mossfire. It will be tweaked over the generations to specifically mean a mentor/apprentice relationship, but the first draft of the law could also include being a Mi or Ba.)

Thus, the River Kingdom is no more. RiverClan is born, and in agreeing to the terms, WindCo becomes WindClan.

Something changes on this day, with so many cats dead and the group now being something very different. The era of charitability and open relations between Clans... is starting to seem like a bad idea.

The current of the river is the same, but somehow, the water is different.

Last plot thread left to wrap up is The Poisoning.

It's GOTTA be a dramatic reveal of some sort. The Diplomat makes one last grab at power. I think it would actually be a BIG power move if Flow came back with her lives, receiving the wisdom from Redscar that Diplomat was constructing false signs, putting two and two together...

A feast is thrown, she decides to eat in the same exact way Moth did, makes it very clear she's "repeating" the mistake because Jumping Foot is dead and that means that the assassin is not here to put down poisons. The Diplomat falls for it, hook, line, and sinker, tainting her food in between servings.

And when they do, Flow INSISTS that The Diplomat come, and have a bite with her.

She's got nine lives to spare now. She can give one up, just for the satisfaction of locking eyes with them as they both have a bite of the same poisoned food. The horror, the panic, in their expression is the most delicious thing Flow has ever tasted.

If seeing Mossfire's crown tangled with Jumping Foot's was like a stag who dies with antlers locked, then Flow dying next to The Diplomat, sticking around in StarClan to watch them damn them and send them to the Dark Forest, and then rise again to attend her Clan, this moment was like being a stag who outlives their foe and wears their skull as a second crown.

Long Live Flowerstar.

#I will still be tagging these guys with their COTC names + BB! bangpath so they're easy to find #BB!Maplewhisker #BB!Flowerstem #BB!Mothpelt #I like it ehwn girls #Girlies will die tangled in mortal combat with their foe and call it tuesday #Riverstar's Heir #Better Bones AU #The Mossfire vs. Jumpfoot part of COTC is like the best and coolest bit #Doing my part to make it Even Cooler <3

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piracytheorist · 3 months

Text

"Sy-on boy" vs. "Second son"

As someone who a) watches the anime first and then reads the manga (and doesn't read manga chapters that haven't been animated yet), b) is quite cautious about Damian's character and c) doesn't even like Damιanya as a ship, I think I have a very different perspective on Anya's view of Damian - at least, according to the point the anime has reached - to the point that I can get VERY confused whenever I see some shippers talk about that. To the point I go like "Is there something I missed?"

And there IS something I miss. And that's manga-only (or at least manga-first) context.

In Japanese, Loid thinks about Damian being the second son of Donovan Desmond, using the word "次男" (jinan) which literally means "second son".

Damian uses the same word for himself later,

and Anya picks that up from then on (though using hiragana characters instead of kanji, as she does in general). And maybe because of that use of simpler characters, the manga translation team decided to have her call Damian "sy-on boy" - a mispronounced "scion boy" - instead of simply "second son".

The thing is, though "sy-on boy" makes Anya's speech sound simpler and more imaginative, fitting her age more, it can also sound more endearing, cute and affectionate, if you lean towards that. Meanwhile, "second son" can range from neutral at best to derogatory at worst - especially considering that Damian is not dealing very well with the fact that his older brother is already an accomplished Imperial Scholar and has raised the bar very high for Damian.

Again, my first contact with the story was from the anime, where Anya simply calls him "second son".

Which, if I'm honest, already sounds appropriately silly. Who calls someone, even the second child of a family, that? Anya's use of "haha" for mama and "chichi" for papa is already kind of incorrect when she talks to them, she's young and has still got lots to learn, in the same chapter/episode she called Becky "milady" until Becky reminded her of her name, and also Damian pissed her off so she has no reason to refer to him with his name (yes I'm fully taking her side on this, bully victim for bully victim). She heard both Loid and Damian use "second son" in their thoughts, so same way she called Becky "milady", she picked that up as a way to call Damian.

I actually wonder why the manga translation team went for "sy-on boy". There's no indication that Anya heard the word "scion" ever before, so it sounds out of place, and honestly, with what I said above, out of character for her. In a weird way, though, it actually fits with how she manages a decent score in her "Ancient Language" test many many chapters later.

(I am aware that there was a fan translation of some chapters before the manga got picked up for an official translation. I have no access to the fan translation, so maybe "scion" was used there and it passed on to the official translations in that way?)

Anyway, what I mean to say is that the use of "sy-on boy" may have encouraged a more lenient and even "encouraging" view of Anya's feelings for Damian, even though through her actions and words she keeps showing that she would rather not be around him, but she has a mission to accomplish.

And with that, though I don't know any Japanese myself, I'm leaning towards the conclusion that "sy-on boy" is not a translation that accurately communicates Anya's sentiments.

And as someone who is very passionate about defending Anya's mistrust of Damian, the use of "sy-on boy" in the manga translation sounds... misleading. Maybe it just feels that way to me because I am a bit more cautious, but it also explains why some fans are so passionate to the point of saying Damian never actually bullied Anya - or to tell me to my face that I shouldn't call Damian a bully because it upsets his fans. If the manga has her use a nickname that could show she's on equal footing with him and could betray, under a certain interpretation, some hidden affection for him, then you kind of understand why people reach that point. It doesn't mean it's right to say Damian was never a bully, or to tell me that after I've shared I still carry scars from having been bullied, but you know. Fandoms will be fandoms.

#is this anti? it probably is #anti-damianya #also another reason why I don't want to read the manga first #seeing things like that genuinely makes me distrust their translation choices #day number infinite I wish I could understand Japanese and just read the original instead #sxf #0 days passed since nette last bitched about that ship

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goldenstarprincesses · 4 months

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The human names of nations is so interesting to me. It humanizes these immortal cryptid beings. Not even for the mortal people they interact with everyday, but in some ways, for the other nations. Even for humans, names are so frequently intertwined with culture, history, and personal experiences. For a nation, it must go even deeper than that.

"Alfred" for a male America works in my opinion. While he kept his first name, he dose change his last name to Jones at some point during the early stages of the American revolution. I like to think America (both male and nyo) adopted the name from a human whose' name will never be found in a history book, but will always be remembered by their nation. Sorta in-line with him wearing glasses' to look older, I also like playing around with the idea that he added an "F" to his name during the Gilded Age because he thought it made his name look more official on paper. It's also just funny to think it really doesn't stand for anything and that he lets different people think it stands for different names. Today in day-to-day conversations he is simply "Alfred". Matt almost always (plus a few other he's close with) will always refer to him as Al. His aunt can refer to him as Alfie. His uncles often get away loving referring to him as Freddie. They are the only people that can get away with either of those names without getting decked. Ivan will often use them if he's trying to antagonize Alfred. But overall, he is pretty open to nicknames if you and him are on a friendly basis. He's a puddle on the ground when it comes to being called romantic nicknames in/from his partners native language.

For Nyo!America, it is a bit more complicated. I'm very attached to the name Amelia, but can recognize it's not a name that Arthur would have given his daughter in the 1600s. When she was taken in by Arthur, she was christened with the classic name of Elizabeth. Yet it was only Arthur that called her that even in "childhood". Little baby French speaking Matthew called her Lise or the non-Elizabeth nickname of Sissie. While most humans who she was friend's with referred to her as Bet. Because they could Bet on her. Even other humans would nearly always often shorten it to Beth. Pretty much everyone outside of the man who gave her the name could see "Elizabeth" just did not fit her. In my headcanon she was quite a bit more angry and hurt then Alfred was during the revolution. Which, along with already not "loving" the name, caused her to feel no reason not to ditch the names Arthur had given her. Like Alfred, Jones came from a human that she cared about. But this time around, so did Amelia. So up until the 1880s, it was Amelia Jones until, again just like Alfred, she added the "F" to make it Amelia F. Jones.

And as the years went on, Matt says Mel or in moments filled with fear/pain Sissie may slip out. But really outside of him, people don't use nicknames for her. Over the years, since adopting the name, she drew a firm line that she only responds to the United States of America, United States, America in formal settings. Amelia in informal settings. She simply won't respond if someone calls her something else. This mostly has to do, well, with the sexism of being one of only a handful of female nation's and simply being a woman...that exists in this world. A lot of times male nations (as well as human men) would actively use nicknames as a way to talk-down to her or dismiss her abilities. So she begin to refuse to respond to anything but her name

But one of the newest developments in this area is that starting sometime in the 1990s...Arthur was seemingly allowed to start referring to America as Elizabeth again in moments of privacy. First time Matt heard Arthur say "Elizabeth dear, would you pass me the files" he mentally started to prepare for war. The fact America did not even blink or say anything other then "oh yeah, here ya go" changed Matt's understanding of the family dynamic.

#nyo america #hws america #hws england #hws canada #hws ireland #hws scotland #historical hetalia #alfred f jones #Amelia jones #hetalia #hws russia #aph america #aph england #aph canada #aph ireland #aph scotland

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maple-the-awesome · 1 year

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Heir ||

Pairing: Mob! (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2,825

Requested by Anonymous: Okay so can u write (or if u don't take request can we just discuss?) about mob! Peter Parker when the reader is pregnant?? Like he'd be absolutely hyperactive and take care of her every second. Not leaving her for a sec alone and then taking all his work into his office at home bc he just wants to stay near to her. Constantly spoiling her and buying her everything she is craving, baby proofing the whole house, constantly having sex bc she is extra horny and then of course talking to her baby bump when he thinks she's fast asleep!! Just . So. Cute. I'm always a sucker for pregnant reader stories. Here you go 💜 Warning: Suggestive/Explicit content (nothing too detailed, but the request does involve a horny pregnant reader and Peter's a deliverer, sooo~)

Marvel Masterlist 🖤 Fandom Masterlist 🖤 Requests

Peter Parker, a young tycoon from upscale New York who likes to attend the most lavish of social gatherings and only owns what is considered 'top of the line' be it clothes, jewelry, houses, cars - you name it, but that is, of course, a part of his carefully constructed public image. Hidden in secret and shadows, his name is one often whispered as a form of jinx from the mouths of the criminal class. They understand the red ink Mr. Parker's name is written with; they know the true nature of his work.

Peter has quite the reputation, to put it short. Extortion, loan sharking, and corruption of public officials can be considered the 'nicer' side of his dealings, although seeing the exact lengths most individuals go through just to avoid a frown upon his face, it can easily be concluded that he's perfectly willingly to go much further if business calls for it.

He's headstrong and cold meaning that, once he sets his mind to something, there is no convincing him otherwise unless a certain voice is to plead it. There is a voice that can speak louder than his all by a mere breath against his ear; a sound sweet enough to poison his every thought, shatter his iron will, and remove that fearsome reputation of his like a form of temporary baptism.

For you, his precious wife, there is only 'Peter', a loving husband so devoted to the one who holds his heart that he would remove mountains if you preferred the view, carve the earth until it's hallow if you desire a gown of rare gems, and set fire to all of New York just to see your face shine in the golden flames. For you alone, Peter will take a knee, being whatever pleases you, although at the moment, all you ask is that he accepts defeat.

It's quite amusing really. Within the years of your marriage, you've heard countless accounts about how savage and gruesome your dear husband is; the wolf from fairy tales or, more fitting to his nickname, a spider haunting the dreams of those with severe arachnophobia. You'd be more inclined to believe such stories if not for how adorable he currently looks, his legs sprawled out across the floor as he struggles to put together the complex design yet remains very adamant that he will not be accepting defeat against a pile of rosewood.

You've been here watching the scene for well over an hour now, sitting rather comfortably yourself in a new rocking chair while snuggled up in an equally young silk blanket, soft cotton pajamas, and wool socks with a warm mug of ginger tea housed in your hands.

Without anything else to truly do and knowing full well any offers of assistance will continue to be denied (you've tried), you have taken to either sitting or pacing about the room every now and again to stretch your aching back, but you make sure to do the latter sparring since you've discovered the more you move, the more you increase poor Peter's worry.

The record so far is five minutes before your husband is hovering at your side, fussing like a British nanny over something: do you need anything, princess? Medicine? Another blanket? Is it too cold in here? Too warm? Perhaps it's best if you go lay down or shall we go for a walk in the garden for some fresh air?

It's amusing to you how doting Peter can be - well, how much more doting he can be, is a better way of putting it. Truth be told, he has always been an attentive husband, existing at your every beckon and call despite his own busy work schedule.

Each morning, you awake to kisses down your collarbone and a freshly picked flower next to your plate at breakfast. Throughout the day, he spares every possible second that he can for your request, becoming all yours during those breaks no matter how short. Do you want to read together in the library? Eat lunch in the garden if he has that much time? Peter has never been against any suggestion regardless of how rushed he may be in the moment, going as far as to sneak into the nearest closest for…Well, you can probably use your imagination for that part.

Peter prides himself on rarely letting you down, pained too deeply by your tears and too afraid of your shouts (a funny thought considering what his job entails). Fortunately, your fights are few and far inbetween, his anger reserved for work alone, not his precious wife who, quite honestly, is the only good thing to enter his hectic life aside from May and even Ben when he was still around - Oh, and also that little life you currently carry within your womb; they’re a fairly recent add on to Peter's list of loved ones.

You remember it like just yesterday when you had first told him the news. You, yourself, had been a nervous wreck despite having been actively trying for children. All of your preparation and desires seemed to instantly go out the window in that moment, replaced by the weight of the world upon your shoulders as you stared at that little white test confirming for certain that you are, in fact, carrying the weight of a little world inside of you.

Pregnant? Are you really ready to do this? Can you really be a good mom or will you somehow mess it up? What if Peter was only pacifying you when he offered to fulfill your desire of bearing his children? What if he wasn't being honest then and actually detests the idea of children running around his mansion, screaming and creating messes as children typically do? So many worries plagued your mind that day, all put to rest once receiving Peter's true reaction.

It took him a minute - actually four - where he just stared at you, letting the wheels turn inside his head while carefully asking if you were being serious. Then, within seconds - which is no exaggeration -, you were within his arms, your face soon cupped in his hands as he tearfully asked you the same question again followed by giddy laughter when you confirmed it a third time.

Your husband has always been doting, however now that you hold his child - his heir - this behavior has been increased tenfold. You officially bear double the importance to him, thus any harm that may befall you would become his downfall leading to him collapsing in on himself like a dying star (excuse his dramatics). Therefore, Peter has amplified his protective and attentive behaviors, becoming a hyperactive presence in your life that can be admittedly overwhelming at times.

It began plainly enough with him moving all of his work to the home office where he could be within range of your calls for every second of the day. Parties, business trips, and anything else that would require traveling became forbidden, not that he ever cared much for them anyways. Security had also been added upon with Peter triple checking all interviews and background checks which were usually entrusted to his right-hand man, Miles, who has never steered him wrong before, but one can never be too careful.

While not bad in the beginning, Peter’s anxieties soon became suffocating. His innocent research into all things parenthood soon started viewing every piece of advice or recommendations as holy. The doctor said too much of something isn't good to eat? Then you won't taste a grain! There can be germs around the mansion that cause you illness? Everything must be washed! Everything! Oh, and the mansion must be entirely baby proof! Each corner, every nook and crank - Nothing left to chance! Simply put, Peter doesn't want to take any chances, treating you as if you're some sort of ticking time bomb which is, in a way, true given your horrendous mood swings at times.

For a while there, it felt that Peter was coming to you everyday with something new he wanted to try. Playing certain music to help the baby's development or drafting a new meal plan that gets rid of some of your favorites because a certain ingredient isn't 'good for you'. Being currently drained due to a changing body, you’ve been in no mood for Peter's 'crowding', and the meal thing had been your final straw. He unfortunately learned this the hard way when you finally lost your patience resulting in a full hour of shouting at him then another sobbing your apologies.

After that day, Peter has backed off a little. He still spends every night reading parent books which are left stacked at his bedside, but he's much more reasonable with his suggestions and has learned to not believe everything he reads, usually running it through Aunt May first just to be sure he won't get his head ripped off if he brings the information to you (yeah, you're not quite sure he's recovered from the trauma of your scolding, poor baby).

Of course, you can never truly be mad at Peter for caring, something he knows, too. Pregnancy is stressful both mentally and physically, thus it's lovely to have a husband just as willing to trek through the ugly as he is to observe the beauty.

As it's hopefully been made clear, he has no issue in spoiling you. Anything you want is yours to have. Are you craving some foreign food? He'll have it flown in or hire a special chief to prepare it just for you. Do you wish for cuddles? He'll move his schedule around the best he can to accommodate for a day in bed, snuggled in mounts of blankets as you rest comfortably in his arms. Even if you're suffering from horrible mood swings, be it awful crying or livid screaming, he will happily endure it feeling it's the least he can do in return for all his wife is doing for him.

Oh, and then there's the sex. Why hadn't anyone told you being pregnant would make you this horny? Some days, you're barely able to keep your hands off of poor Peter (not that he's actually suffering in any shape or form, quite the opposite). Of course, you blame him for it because not only did he make you this way, but he insists on being in the same room as you practically all hours of the day. How are you not to leap at him when he's sitting right there, looking all hot and sexy as he runs his hand through his hair or bites his lip in concentration while going over paperwork?

…Yeah...Peter's probably fucked you more than he's actually completed any of his work, but when your wife is sitting on top of your lap, peppering your neck in kisses and pawing at your erection all while swelling with your baby within her womb? What's a man to do?

Looking back at how perfect Peter has been, you don't think you could ever feel more confident in who you've married. He could've turned you away that first day you asked him to impregnate you, he could be doing the bare minimum without any personal inference just to keep you ‘happy’ and out of his hair, but instead, he has remained loyal to his responsibilities, going above and beyond in the name of pure love. It's enough to make you swoon (and maybe a little aroused, damn your hormones), however at the moment, you're a bit too tired to express any of it outwardly. Maybe later when you have the energy for something more physical.

Right now, you only wish to close your eyes, enjoying the warm sun which floods through the window at just the right angle that it blankets you in the rocking chair - something you're sure Peter took into consideration when planning the layout of this nursery. Bless him indeed.

You have zero intentions in moving, too warm and too at peace especially since the baby has finally stopped wiggling around like a little worm inside of you. Not wanting to disrupt the precious bean, you'll remain put in silence where you can both rest together.

You hear Peter give an exasperated groan from where he sits on the floor. Based on it, you're certain he must have his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots. Accompanied with the sound of him stretching his legs and the amount of time it takes him to actually stand up, you'd guess it must've been hell for his muscles to stay in such a position for so long, not that you feel that bad, only for a second at most. If you've survived seven months of your entire body aching, he can surely manage a numb feeling in his legs for a few minutes.

He tip toes over the hurricane of wood planks, but gives a good kick to some of the screws with a hissed breath and hands placed on his hips. He'll have to ask Miles for someone who can build this damned crib for him, he doesn't have the patience to fiddle with it any longer, but at least his anger is forgotten once he looks at you. The golden sun dressed over your face, the peaceful rest of your skin and slight part of your cherry lips as you take in each breath: you’re truly the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, a fact he is constantly reminded of especially in the small moments like this.

Peter wonders if your baby will take after you. He desperately hopes so, if not in appearance than at least in personality. He hopes that whoever they end up being, it isn't anything like him. Although he was happy to take Uncle Ben's place in the business, it wasn't what Ben wanted and, now that he is going to be a father himself, Peter finally understands that.

The more he thinks of his precious child, the more certain Peter becomes that he doesn't want them to be his heir. He doesn't want them to know violence or bloodshed, lies and deceit. He doesn't want them to tell the other children at school that their daddy is their hero - to ever think such a thing in admiration because that would just be the first step down his path.

He wants them to be like you. He wants them to be kind and patient, fair and dignified. He wants their love, yes, but he also wants them to be realistic as you are - to know that what he does for a living isn't truly a good thing and that they should strive to be something more, something better. They don't need to be proud of him, but he will forever be proud of them. That's what Uncle Ben wanted for him, and while he failed on that front himself, he hopes his child can do better; he'll do better by being around to lead them down that right path.

Kneeled in front of you, Peter whispers all these things, his hands gracing your swollen stomach as he makes a trail of endless promises to the unborn child who can’t process any of it at the moment, however that's fine; Peter will be there to remind them of his love throughout the rest of their life.

"...I can't wait to meet them..." He hushes, pressing his lips to your stomach in a long kiss. Only a few more months and he'll be able to do the same to their forehead. He'll likely never stop either, not if he remains this drunk on admiration towards them.

You smile, blinking open your eyes to gaze down at him, "They can't wait to meet you either."

"How do you know?" He challenges playfully, leaning into your touch when your hand rests upon his cheek, always so warm to him.

"Because they kick anytime they hear your voice," you explain, letting your other hand fall onto your stomach, "They were sleeping peacefully until you started talking. Now they’re wide awake waiting for you to say more."

"I'm sorry," he doesn't look it, a delighted smile still tugging at his lips. He always apologizes, although he's far from being meaningful. Sorry that you must endure so much pain and stress, but not sorry that it's all going to be for your beloved child. Nine months in return for a life which will continue to grow and carry the best traits of you both, isn’t that a good deal?

Fortunately for your husband, you have never been truly mad, agreeing that it’ll indeed be worth it in the end. Slumping back your head against the chair, you close your eyes again and hum as you remind him, "...Peter, they're waiting for you to say more."

He beams, dropping his head lightly against your stomach where his ear can press against your covered skin as if it’ll allow him the deepest connection with the life waiting inside, "Then I will say more."

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queen-dahlia · 1 year

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𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

ღ 𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝟭 & 𝟮 ღ 𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗘𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 ღ 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘂𝗺 𝗘𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 ღ 𝗘𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 ღ

🔞🔞🔞

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

The nickname "Gil" used to be familiar to me.

The name, which my brother and mother called me frequently, had a special warmth to it, and I liked it even as a child.

But the family that calls me "Gil" is no longer in this world.

For a time, I forced a boy I picked up in Rhodolite to call me "Gil," but as he grew older, he seldom called me that anymore.

(I thought that no one would ever again show up to call the trampling beast by his nickname.)

(Because that was "proof of family" to me.)

Emma: "Gil…"

And yet, Emma, who has become my official fiancée, calls me.

There is some awkwardness, but I haven't heard "Gil" in a long time,

It was filled with such happiness that my brain felt as if it were about to be enraptured.

(Oh man... it's like I'm not me anymore when Emma calls me "Gil.")

The disaster of the world, the trampling beast—that's how the man who has terrorized people all over the continent has been,

Just being called by a nickname on the bed is enough to make me want to bury my face in my pillow, and I am in so much agony.

As expected, I couldn't do that, so I just kept Emma's lips closed.

Gilbert: "Can you call me more?"

Emma: "… It's hard to say when prompted."

Gilbert: "Then I'll let you call it natural."

(It's your fault for providing happiness to the villain, isn't it?)

I push Emma down onto the sheets and bite down on the skin peeking through her jet-black dress.

I purposely avoided kissing her lips so that she could call me by name at any time, and I slowly made more bite marks.

(... I have time today, and I won't make you feel better right away.)

I lapped at the bite marks with my tongue while also avoiding the places where Emma's body was pleasurable for her.

Emma: "Ahh, Gilbert—"

Gilbert: "No, right?" // "Isn't that right?"

(You're the one who wanted to get to know me better.)

Emma: "… It's hard to do that without thought."

Emma: "… I'm embarrassed."

Gilbert: "Then let's practice until you get used to it."

Gilbert: "Look, I'll make love to you all night long, just like you want."

Emma: "... I don't want—"

Gilbert: "No?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

(I love that you're not too shy to deny it then, Emma.)

Gilbert: "I'll make you feel good every time you can call me right. But if you can't do that—"

I lightly pressed her breasts against the top of her black dress.

I tried tickling her repeatedly, but everything seemed to be blocked by the dress, and Emma began to sway her body in frustration.

Gilbert: "Shall we do this forever?"

Emma: "……… Gil."

(She can't take it. ...Hehe, I'm going to hear a lot of names today.)

As promised, I pull down the dress and bite down hard on the swollen spot where she wants me to touch her.

══════════════════

As we repeated such games, I noticed that the sky was changing color—

Gilbert: "... The night went by pretty fast, huh?"

(I got carried away too.)

I remove my eye patch and look down at Emma, who is lying face down helplessly in the dimness with no lights on.

The sheets were so stained that it was a good thing I had taken off her dress during the day.

(I've just been biting and fondling her body for a long time, and it's turned out like this.)

Teasing her, making her feel good... The body that obediently received them was already twitching. // I have been teasing her and making her feel good… Her body has been twitching since a few minutes ago, when she received them with open arms.

A quick stroke between her legs, and Emma screamed and jumped up.

Emma: "Ahhh... Gilbert..."

(… You're so stiff.)

Gilbert: "I'm not going to stop you like that, okay?"

Emma: "Gil…"

Gilbert: "Even if you call me to make up for it, I won't stop." **

(How many times are we going to repeat the same mistake? You're not getting used to it at all.)

I hug Emma from behind as she gets up and put my hands around her waist to prevent her from escaping.

Tears trickled down from the corners of Emma's eyes as I churned the surface between her legs while she deliberately made noises.

Gilbert: "Don't cry."

Emma: "Nnhh… I can't take it anymore…"

Emma: "Everywhere you touched me was... weird..."

Gilbert: "Hmm."

Emma: "Aahh... Ahh..."

I stick my finger in and start stirring again. **

I stirred the hot, tender spot until it almost burned me, but I stopped when I heard Emma's charming voice.

Gilbert: "I'm going to stop being mean to you when the awkwardness goes away from you."

Emma: "Gil…"

Gilbert: "That's not even close to a passing grade, because it's like, "I'm just trying to say it," right?"

Emma: "… It's tough."

Gilbert: "I'm in a good mood, too. I'll make you stop using honorifics one of these days, okay?"

(I'm royalty, but I don't want you to be the only one to see me that way.)

Emma: "… I'm getting… used to it."

Gilbert: "You can call me Gil in public, too, if you want."

Emma: "… No."

Gilbert: "No?"

Emma: "No, I can't."

(I was told more clearly than I expected. I'm a little disappointed.)

I sighed blandly, and Emma huffed as she turned her head to look at me.

Emma: "Gilber—Gil, I don't want anyone to see that relaxed face of yours."

(Relaxed face...?)

(. . . . . .)

(… I think I might be doing that. It's true that I'm getting carried away.)

Even without looking in the mirror, it was easy to imagine that I looked far from a trampling beast.

Emma: "I guess you've transferred your... jealousy to me too."

Emma's languid but happy smile blew my nasty feelings away.

Gilbert: "Hehe, not as good as I am."

Gilbert: "I need you to be jealous enough to make me want to kill everyone around me."

Emma: "… If I were to be treated with that kind of jealousy, the country would be destroyed."

Gilbert: "But we can really be alone together, right?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "Ahaha, I'm kidding."

Gilbert: "... For now."

Emma: "Please keep the jokes coming."

Gilbert: "I suppose it's up to you."

We laugh at each other, and then our lips meet, signaling an unconsciously close gaze.

It had been a long time since I had kissed her on the mouth, even though we had been flirting for a long time.

(I'm at my limit too, so I'll let it end here for today.)

(… I got her to call me Gil 49 times, so I guess that's good enough.)

I make Emma, who is dazed from the aftermath of the kiss, sit on my lap so that she is facing me, and I penetrate her body.

I was about to be taken away from the consciousness that I had been enduring all this time.

(But Emma seems to have less time to spare.)

Tears fall from the corners of Emma's eyes again as I rock her slender hips.

Emma: "Nnn… Ahhh… Gil..."

Gilbert: "Hehe... for the fiftieth time."

Emma: "Haahh… What..."

Gilbert: "It's nothing."

When I embrace Emma, I am enveloped by the sweet scent that is unique to the night.

She clung to my shoulders tightly and strongly, and I felt her fingernails digging into me through my shirt.

(Emma… I've lost everyone who called me "Gil" once.)

(But you're the only one who won't lose no matter what you do.) // (But you are the only one I won't lose by any means.)

I bind you with fetters in the name of engagement, and I wrap you with chains in the name of love.

I will keep you in my arms, and don't let you leave me forever.

The engagement ceremony and the obsidian rose ring, the only one worn by a naked Emma, are all part of it.

(… However, there were some miscalculations.)

(It was supposed to be an engagement ceremony for me to tie you up...)

(Every time you call my name, I feel like I'm more tied to you than you are to me.)

(I wonder which one of us is bound...?)

#サイバード #イケメン王子 #ギルベルト=フォン=オブシディアン #ikemen prince #ikemen prince gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert #ikeprince #ikeprince gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince jp #ikepri jp #ikeprince translation #ikemen prince spoilers #ikeprince spoilers #ikepri spoilers #dahlia's bad translation

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nightcityace · 14 days

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[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: SUNNY ]

[NICKNAME:]

Sunny: I guess technically Sunny was a nickname before it became official, but I've also been called Sunshine, Sunbeam, Ray of Sunshine… you can probably see the pattern. Interviewer: And what is your real name? Sunny: Sunny is my real name. Just because it might not be the first name I had doesn't mean it's not my real name.

[GENDER:]

None for me, thanks.

[STAR SIGN:]

Misty says I’m an Aquarius. I guess I never really put much thought into any of that, but she really enjoys it so that makes it fun for me too.

[HEIGHT:]

5’ 9”, but some of my boots make me a little taller. No platforms or anything though, I wouldn't be able to walk to save my life.

[ORIENTATION:]

Only interested in men, but I guess I don't really try to define myself often. Just queer in general is probably the best term I suppose.

[NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:]

That's another one I never really think too much about. A lot of people tend to think my family are Nomads, but we’ve been here since before Night City was Night City. My… (counts on fingers) great-great-great grandparents actually bought our property back when California was still one state, so we’re about as local as you get. Before that I think someone came from New York and before that I don’t really know, all over Europe I think.

[FAVE FRUIT:]

Strawberries, not like synthetic ones or those over priced cloned ones, real strawberries. We managed to get a little section of them growing at home and nothing can compare.

[FAVE SEASON:]

Probably spring. I love getting to watch everything sprout and bloom, even out in the desert.

[FAVE FLOWER:]

Sunny: People usually expect me to say something cliche like sunflowers, but I genuinely love dandelions. Especially when they grow up out of cracks in pavement or sidewalks. It's proof there's still nature in the city, even when they try to hide it under all the concrete. They’re stubborn little flowers and they're perfect. Interviewer: Aren't dandelions weeds? Sunny: Only because someone wanted to sell people on the idea of a perfectly sterilized, useless, solid patch of grass which completely destroyed the biodiversity of most yards. They’re yellow, they're cute, I like them. Interviewer: Got it…

[FAVE SCENT:]

This is a hard one to describe, but do you know how sometimes you can kind of smell outside? Not like… exhaust and garbage obviously… but there's a certain smell that gets in your hair and clothes when you've been out in the wind and sun and you can just tell that's what it is.

[COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:]

Yes please, all of it.

[AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:]

Probably about 6 or 7 normally. I tend to wake up early after having to for most of my life, but I love going back to bed. I'll usually wake up about sunrise or earlier and go have a cup of coffee and check my plants to see if they need water and if Vik isn't up yet I'll scooch back under the covers and go right back to sleep for a few more hours. Plus naps, naps are great.

[DOG OR CAT PERSON:]

Chickens. Okay okay, I know obviously I can't have them in the city, but the farm is well outside the avian exclusion zone. Seriously, they're adorable. (Pulls out phone to show no less than 300 different pictures of chicks and chickens)

[DREAM TRIP:]

Honestly I don't know. I like being close to my family and being in NC, so I don't think I'd want to go anywhere long. I have some Nomad friends though so a trip with them might be fun, maybe somewhere with actual mountains since I really like climbing around the canyons and stuff we have out in the Badlands.

[FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:]

Hmmm… I'm gonna go with Bugs Bunny. Both extremely cute and extremely chaotic, I respect that.

[NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:]

I usually start with one or two, but I tend to run warm so by the time I wake up it's not uncommon for them all to be kicked down to the end of the bed or piled up on Vik’s side.

[RANDOM FACT:]

Sunny: About me or just like… a fact I like? Hm, how about: it's surprisingly easy to get a wild coyote into the front seat of a locked car. You wouldn't think so, but getting it out is actually much harder. Interviewer: Okay... That's slightly troubling... how about a fact about you? Sunny: I know how to get a wild coyote into the front seat of a locked car.

This was so fun to do!! Thank you @dreamskug for tagging me!

I have a few other tag things I still need to do with Sunny, I swear I havent actually forgotten, I just have terrible time management... >.>

EDIT: oh dang I forgot to tag people D: I think most of my cp friends have been tagged already so I'll toss it to @wraithsoutlaws bc I want someone to have the audacity to interview Dagger :P

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cp77 #cyberpunk oc: sunny #oc interview

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ghouljams · 6 months

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AWESOME

So, he's nicknamed Angel, for various reasons. He may be a medic, but he's also the type to call you a dumbass to your face for getting yourself injured, so the Angel is more for the irony there.

The other reason is in reference to Angel Dust, he didn't cope well when he first joined the army. Sure, you see some pretty bad shit in normal hospitals too, but seeing what mustard gas does to a body while also actively getting shot at and now having to fix it or just go "this one is lost, time spend on trying would be wasted, to the next one" and then just moving on to the next worst injury... that's a bit of a different thing.

He also never talks about any personal life. No friends, no family, nothing. He'll just ignore any question about it.

Over the years he learned how to cope better, can deal with just about anything without as much as an eyebrow twitch these days. With just one exception. He can't deal with people showing genuine care towards him specifically. He'll just stand up and leave without comment. Lucky for him, because of his prickly personality, that basically never happens anyways.

Undiagnosed autism, but learned to mask to the point that nobody would guess either. Only special interests he can ramble on about are medicine and guns, and everyone tends to think that's just because of his job. Any texture discomfort, he shrugs off with just having a bad day (something he'll say nearly every day), and since his behaviour is just a bit antisocial to begin with, it's hard to guess that he's bad with social cues and doesn't just actively ignore them.

He does care. He really does. But he neither wants to nor is he good at showing emotions.

Except around his cat, a Ragdoll nearly too big to pick up. He called her God once, you know, for Angels are the servants of God. And that name stuck. Showing emotions around her is easy. Animals aren't nearly as judging as humans, after all.

I don't know about his real name and nationality yet, maybe czechian, maybe japanese, throw the dice for me lol

As for looks, average height, bit thin. Slight tan, short black hair, grey eyes. All muted colours, unless he wears a hazard suit at some point, not really standing out. Absolutely covered in tattoos but they are all out of sight, hidden away as so much about him is.

We love a medic that doesn't say shit.

I feel like Angel and Ghost would get along well in a sort of.... We are both sitting here silently eating our safe foods and not making eye contact way. Both of them consider each other a good friend for this exact reason. Very "Oh yeah that's my best mate, don't know shit about him, don't want to."

I'm trying to think which of my OCs would get along well with Angel. Probably Hush. For similar reasons to Ghost. Hush just sits down at the same table and says nothing while he does whatever he does when he isn't bothering Soap. Same with Luck, I think she'd just sit down and read because it seemed quiet with Angel, and she doesn't always want to talk to people.

Anyway I love him, thank you for sharing. Angel officially added to my running list of ocs I know about and want to be friends with.

#ghoul speaks #good OC #<- said in the good soup voice #I love prickly people but I am a prickly people so...#except for the few people I like #as my siblings say “it's because you're a virgo”#oc talk

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tanmono · 1 year

Text

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

EPILOGUE.

The True Love of Beauty and the Beast.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

spoilers from gilbert's route.

trigger warning: smut.

minors and ageless blogs dni.

The nickname "Gil" was also familiar in the old days.

The name my brother and mother often called me had a special warmth to it, and I loved it even as a child.

However, there is no family in this world who calls me "Gil" anymore.

I had to force a wounded boy I picked up at Rhodolite to call me "Gil",

As he grew up, he rarely called me by that name.

(I thought I'd never hear someone call the trampling beast by its nickname again.)

(It was a symbol of family for me.)

Emma: Gil……

And yet, Emma, who has become my official fiancée, calls me with that nickname.

There are some awkwardness, but I have not heard "Gil" in a long time,

It was so full of happiness that my heart seemed to melt.

(This is bad…..when Emma calls me "Gil," it's like I'm not myself anymore.)

The bane of the world, the trampling beast, the man who has terrorized the entire continent in this way,

The mere mention of my nickname in bed makes me want to bury my face in my pillow.

I couldn't do that, so I just covered Emma’s lips with mine.

Gilbert: Can you say it again?

Emma:….When you’re urging me like that, it’s difficult.

Gilbert: Just say it naturally.

(It’s your fault for giving the bad guys a good bait, you see?)

I pushed Emma onto the sheets and bit into the skin through her jet-black dress.

I avoided kissing her lips so that she could call my name at any time, and I slowly made more and more bite marks.

(…..I've got time today, and I'm not going to make you feel better right away.)

Flicking my tongue over the bite marks, avoiding the places where Emma’s body is pleasurable.

Emma: Aahhh, Lord Gilbert——

Gilbert: You’ve said it wrong, you know?

(You're the one who wanted to get to know me better.)

Emma:…It's hard to say that without being aware of it.

Emma: Not to mention, I’m…embarrassed.

Gilbert: Then let's practice until you get used to it, okay?

Gilbert: Come on, I'll make love to you until the end of the night, just like you wanted.

Emma:….I don't want——

Gilbert: No?

Emma:…….

(I like that you don't shy away from denying it, Emma.)

Gilbert: I'll make you feel good every time you can call me that. But if you can't do that——

I lightly pressed her breasts against the top of her black dress.

I tried tickling her many times, but everything seemed to be blocked by the dress,

Emma began to sway her body in frustration.

Gilbert: Shall we do this forever?

Emma:…..Gil.

(I can't stand it. ….Hehe, I'm sure I'll hear a lot of names today.)

As promised, I pulled down her dress and bit into the swollen spot where she wanted to be touched.

While repeating such a games, before I knew it, the color of the sky had changed——

Gilbert:…Night came early, isn’t it?

(I got carried away too.)

I removed my eyepatch and looked down at Emma, who was lying helplessly in the darkness with no lights on.

The sheets were so stained that it was a good thing I had taken off her dress during the day.

(All I did was chew and lick and tease her for a long time, and she turned out like this.)

I’ve been teasing her and making her feel good….her body has been twitching and aching just a while ago.

Gilbert: After all that love, you still can't get enough?

A quick stroke between her legs caused Emma to shriek and jump up.

Emma: Aah…Lord Gilbert…..

(….You’re stiff.)

Gilbert: I'm not going to stop you like that, okay?

Emma: Gil……

Gilbert: Even if you fix your mistakes, I won't stop as well.

(How many times are we going to repeat the same mistakes? I'm not used to it at all.)

I hugged Emma from behind and put my hands around her waist to prevent her from escaping.

Tears trickled down the corners of Emma’s eyes as I deliberately stirred the surface between her legs.

Gilbert: Don't cry.

Emma: Nn…I can't...my body is already….

Emma: Everywhere you touched me was.…weird…..

Gilbert: Hmm.

Emma: Ah...ahhh….

I slipped my finger deep inside and started stirring again.

I stirred the hot and tender spot until I almost got burned, but I stopped when I heard Emma’s sweet voice.

Gilbert: I'll stop being mean to you when your awkwardness goes away.

Emma: Gil…..

Gilbert: That’s still not up to par, because it's more like you’re "trying too hard to say it first," right?

Emma:….It's tough.

Gilbert: I'm also in a good mood. I'll make you stop using honorifics soon, okay?

(I'm royalty, but I don't want you to be the only one who sees me that way.)

Emma:….I'll get used to it….little by little.

Gilbert: Wouldn't it be better if you called me Gil even in public?

Emma:….No.

Gilbert: Is it no good?

Emma: That’s right.

(I was told more clearly than I expected. I'm a little disappointed.) // (You said it more flatly than I thought. I’m a little disappointed.)

When I took a blatant breath, Emma, who only turned her face, laughed softly.

Emma: Lord Gilb—— Gil, I don't want anyone to see that relaxing face of yours.

(Relaxing face…?)

(……)

(….I wonder if I am. Because it's true that I got carried away)

Even without looking in the mirror, it was easy to imagine that my face was far from that of a trampling beast.

(And not for such a cute reason. .....)

Emma: I see….you've transferred your jealousy to me as well.

Emma’s languid yet joyful smile made my cruel feelings blow away.

Gilbert: Hehe, compared to me, you're not even close.

Gilbert: You should be so jealous that you want to kill everything around you.

Emma:….If you treat me with jealousy like that, the country will perish.

Gilbert: But that means, we can be alone in the true sense, right?

Emma:…..

Gilbert: Ahaha, just kidding.

Gilbert:….For now.

Emma: Please keep joking. // Please keep up with your jokes.

Gilbert: I suppose it's up to you.

We laugh at each other, and then our lips meet in an involuntarily closer view.

We've been flirting for a while now, but it’s been a long time since we’ve kissed.

(I'm at my wits end, so I'll call it a night.)

(….I got her to call me Gil 49 times, so I guess that's good enough for me.)

I made Emma, who was dazed by the afterglow of the kiss, sit on my lap facing each other as I penetrated her body

I felt like I was going to lose consciousness because I had endured it all this time.

(But Emma doesn't seem to be able to afford more.)

Tears fall from the corners of Emma’s eyes again as I rock my hips.

Emma: Nnhh….ahh…Gil….

Gilbert: Hehe….50 times now.

Emma: Haa….what……

Gilbert: Nothing.

When I embrace Emma, I am enveloped by the sweet scent that is unique to the night.

I felt a strong clinging to my shoulder and her fingernails digging into my shirt.

(I've…. lost everyone who called me "Gil" once, Emma.)

(But I will not lose you by any means necessary.)

The shackles of engagement and the chains of love.

I’ll tie you up so you don't leave me forever…..

The engagement ceremony and the only obsidian rose ring worn by the naked Emma are all part of that.

(….But there were some miscalculations.)

(It was supposed to be an engagement ceremony for me to tie you up…..)

(Every time you call my name, I feel like I'm more tied to you than you are to me.)

(I wonder which one of us is bound to another….?)

▸ [ previous ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen ouji #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikemen gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird

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sundered-souls · 1 month

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Aïcha Bedi

B A S I C S

Name: Aïcha Bedi

Nicknames: none

Age: In her thirties

Nameday: 28th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon (which she probably shares with a bunch of my characters)

Race: Midlander hyur

Gender: Cis woman

Orientation: Mostly straight

Profession: Adventurer, formerly a contract killer

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Long and curly. She takes great care of it and regularly despair at what Inge does with hers.

Eyes: Brown

Skin: Fair, but tan easily. Considering how much time she spends outside, people tend to assume her skin is darker than it actually is (on this point the screenshots aren't very accurate since they don't show her tan but that'd be a nightmare to represent accurately XD)

Tattoos/scars: No tattoos whatsoever. She's got plenty of scars, most aren't really remarkable, but there are two that are special: one from Zenos' blade when he stabbed her in Rhalgr's Reach (it's not just her ego who got bruised that day, sorry MSQ), and one from her cesarean section while she was on the First. Don't worry: nothing creepy happened while she was unconscious, G'raha just had the worst timing ever.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Her father lives peacefully in Tural. She has no idea where her mother is, if she's still alive or even who she was since she left when Aïcha was still an infant.

Edmont de Fortemps also counts (haha) as a paternal figure in her life.

Siblings: None by blood. She does consider Alisaie and Alphinaud like her siblings, however. Artoirel and Emmanellain are more like extended family.

Grandparents: Long dead of her father's side. No idea on her mother's.

In-laws and Other: Well, she's in a relationship with Estinien so I suppose Alberic counts as her father in-law. The moment both realized that their respective father would have to meet eventually was glorious, because the dad jokes will be neverending and mostly at their expense.

Officially, they also have a kid together born during her time on the First.

Officially, because Estinien offered to adopt the kid and pretend he was the biological dad. Only three people know who said bio dad truly is, none of them is the man in question, and Aïcha would rather die than say it out loud. It's one thing to make dubious life choices, another one to let the world know about it...

(I haven't decided on the name or gender yet, but we can thank @gatheredfates for the prompt she sent me. It got completely out of hand but I'm having a lot of fun with the idea it gave me.)

Pets: None

S K I L L S

Abilities: Excellent shooter, although her mechanical skills don't go much further than what she needed to maintain her guns. She hasn't touched one in years and has no intention to change that.

Excellent dancer given that she's trained since childhood. She dances about as much for the artistry of it as for the self-expression it allows without having to speak her feelings out.

She also went through the GLD/PLD quests in Ul'dah, and that's mainly how she's been fighting since then.

She's also a surprisingly good poet and singer, albeit that's not known to many people.

Hobbies: Writing or reading poetry, singing, dancing and trying out new food (including the kind of food that even the most adventurous people hesitate to put in their mouth). She's pretty receptive to art in general to be honest and will gladly watch plays or go to concerts if she can.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Open-minded

Most Negative Trait: her competitiveness. You'd think someone who succeeds as well as her would be graceful when she loses but fuck no! Every Scions and most people who played even a card game against her once know that she's a sore loser and will use every loophole under the sun to try to win lmao

L I K E S

Colors: carmine and gold

Smells: campfires, incense, fresh flowers, the ocean

Textures: Soft fabrics (silk and satin especially), the sand under her feet, the breeze against her skin (yeah it counts as a texture)

Drinks: the main thing that matters is how much caffeine there's in it and how much sugar she can add to it

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: No

Drinks: Alcohol sometimes, but never a lot and only very, very occasionally since the banquet and then the drugged beverage in Falcon's Nest. For the most part, she runs on water as well as coffee and tea if available.

Drugs: No, she hates not feeling in control of herself

Mount Issuance: Aïcha didn't join any free company. That'd mean taking orders and she's no soldier, so she didn't have a mount until Haurchefant offered her her black chocobo. As you can guess, it's been her mount ever since.

I'm not entirely clear on the timeline in StB yet for her, but if she got her yol, she left it with the Mols.

Been Arrested: no but she should have.

Tagged by: @lilbittymonster (ty again! I'm probably not gonna tag you every time because you'll get tired of it at some point I think XD)

Tagging @xsummoner-kuro @hinganskies @briar-ffxiv @confusedtia @paintedscales @fair-fae @mrlarkstin @thatonediviner @fatewalker @otherworldseekers @saeta @airis-ray @mymistymornings @riftdancing @sailor-artemis @starforger and anyone else interested. Feel free to ignore the tag if that's not your thing, and I'll do that template for more characters during the week so I'll tag new people then!

#OC: Aïcha #I'm like the one Wolstinien shipper with Estinien being the reasonable one of the two :'D

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beautyliesbehindthehills · 4 months

Text

A Reservation For Two

This was inspired by a joke I once made about how there was technically no way for Omatikaya couples to avoid stumbling on another pair consummating their relationship under the Tree of Voices—not unless they had a receptionist to keep track of who was going to be there and when. That thought amuses me way more than it should. 😄 Na'vi Words and Expressions Uniltaron = Dream Hunt Utral Aymokriyä = the Tree of Voices Oel ngati kameie = I see you Tsakarem = Tsahìk in training Kelutral = Hometree tawtsngal = "sky cup" or "panopyra", nicknamed the love flower. Its stems are used for making nets, traps, and other woven items. The growing tips are also said to be an attractant and aphrodisiac and are often worn by young Na'vi who are looking for a mate. ikran = mountain banshee tsmuke = sister skxawng = idiot, moron srane = yes

It is a warm, pleasant night on Pandora. The Omatikaya are preparing to celebrate; Jake Sully has just passed his Uniltaron and taken his rightful place among them as an official member of the clan. Not everyone is in Kelutral, however. Somewhere in the glowing forest, Neytiri is making her way to the Tree of Voices. She spots the reception desk at the front and heads to it as stealthily as possible.

There are two Na'vi stationed there: a man and a woman. The woman looks at Neytiri with polite interest, but the man is too busy carving something out of the piece of wood he is holding.

Neytiri: "Oel ngati kameie, Se'ora, Hoìnge."

Se'ora: "Oel ngati kameie, Tsakarem. Welcome to the Omatikaya Branch of Utral Aymokriyä! How may I help you?" 🙂

Neytiri: "I would like to make a reservation."

Se'ora: "Certainly. How many people is it for?"

Neytiri: "There will be two of us."

Her expression is curiously blank when she mentions the number, as if she doesn't want to seem too eager.

Se'ora: "And would that be a Praying Session, a Communion with the Ancestors or a Mating Night?"

Neytiri: "...It is a matter of some delicacy. Are you sure we are alone?"

Se'ora tilts her head, perplexed by the question. She is, however, a professional, and therefore quick to recover.

Se'ora: "I believe so, but there is no harm in checking. Please hold while I make sure there is no one else in the vicinity." 😊

Se'ora taps Hoìnge on the shoulder and leaves for the nearest Tree of Voices. He stands up, clears his throat, and begins singing the Pandoran equivalent of elevator music.

Hoìnge: "~Tu tu turu~"

Neytiri: "Um—"

Hoìnge: "~Tu tu tururu~"

Neytiri: "You don't have to—"

Hoìnge: "~Tu tu turu ru~"

Neytiri: 😶

A few moments later, Se'ora returns to her spot behind the desk. Hoìnge sits back down as if he had never risen at all.

Se'ora: "It appears our last client left a bit earlier than expected, so we will not be disturbed. You may speak freely." 😊

Neytiri throws a quick look around. She leans closer and lowers her voice just in case.

Neytiri: "I would like the Mating Night Package, but no one else must know, you understand."

Had Se'ora had eyebrows, they would have risen to her hairline. All three of them know no such announcement has been made in the clan in the past handful of days, not to mention certain customs haven't been observed, which means no one will be expecting this at all.

Se'ora: "Oh my! An elopement?! You and Tsu'tey are finally taking the leap, I guess? You have waited for a long time—"

Neytiri: "Y-yeah... Tsu'tey and I..." 😬

Se'ora: "Congratulations! Does he know yet?" 😄

Neytiri: "It is sort of a surprise..."

One that won't give him an aneurysm if I'm lucky, she thinks with a slight grimace. Tsu'tey has never been a fan of unexpected developments.

Se'ora: "No matter! You can count on our discretion. What name should the reservation be listed under?"

Neytiri: "My own."

Se'ora: "Naturally. And that would be..?"

Neytiri: "...Do you not know it already?"

Se'ora: "It is needed for filing purposes, you see."

The huntress gives her a deadpan stare, but answers anyway.

Neytiri: "Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite."

Se'ora: "Very good. For which day and time?"

Neytiri: "Do you have any vacancies for tonight at midnight?"

Se'ora: "Allow me to check our hotel reservation form, please."

Se'ora turns to her colleague. Seeing as the Na'vi lack a writing system, it is his responsibility to memorise any necessary information. She hands him a gourd cup full of water; Hoìnge takes a sip and begins to sing.

Hoìnge: "~Ayì, Zuäm, Yiveyo,

Refnä, Aawmul, and Seyay,

To the sacred grove they go,

Wishing to reflect and pray,

Nawe seeks the ancestors

Then retires for the night,

Ingyl is the first to show

Early in the morning light~" 😩🎵

Se'ora: "..."

Se'ora: "I'm afraid that time slot has been filled already. Would tomorrow night work for you?"

Neytiri: "I know this is very last minute, but... I was hoping we could make it happen tonight? I have my reasons..." 😟

Like the fact that Jake has been an eligible bachelor for some hours already, and she'll be damned if she gives that bitch Ninat more time to pursue him.

Continue reading on Ao3

#jake x neytiri #jeytiri #avatar the way of water #avatar james cameron #Avatar Comedy Au #avatar 2009 #atwow #jake sully #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #Avatar Fanfiction #Neytiri

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