#SAYING THE FOG GATES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-hidden-pages · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader

Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play

Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.

Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.

Warnings: NSFW, Blood, Vampire Kink, Overstimulation, Crying, Light Choking, Dirty Talk

You and Astarion had always had an arrangement.

To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.

That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.

It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.

You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.

You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.

But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…

Still, you were never going to force it.

So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.

Until that changed.

When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.

A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.

Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.

But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.

When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.

Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.

Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.

There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.

You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.

“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.

“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”

“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”

He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.

His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”

Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.

His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.

“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”

Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.

His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”

Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.

That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.

After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.

He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.

“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”

You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.

He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.

When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.

You had thought about this moment too often.

What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.

He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.

“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”

You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.

A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.

“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”

“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”

He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed.

“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”

You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.

It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.

“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.

He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”

His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.

“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”

As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.

“Astarion…”

“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”

Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.

“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.

He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.

“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”

“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”

“Astarion please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Bite me harder.”

“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.

“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.

You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.

“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”

You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.

Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.

He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.

“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.

Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.

It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.

“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”

Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.

“May I, pet?”

All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.

“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”

With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.

You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.

“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”

He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.

And still his words didn’t cease.

“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”

He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.

“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.

“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”

“Can’t - I can’t…”

“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

“Astarion.”

“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control.

“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”

It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.

You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.

Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.

“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”

Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.

And he was right.

You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.

It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.

“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”

Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.

Fear.

“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”

You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.

“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”

The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk.

“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”

“Astarion.”

A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.

When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.

Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”

He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.

He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.

When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.

You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.

“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”

“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”

“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest.

He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.

“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”

You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, my darling.”

One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon.

You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

#fawktober2023 #kinktober2023 #x reader smut #x reader #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

5K notes · View notes

colleendoran · 4 months

Text

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

Go me!

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt.

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back.

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news.

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work.

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing.

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work.

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way.

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry.

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings, enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks.

#good omens graphic novel #good omens #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #dunmanifestin

2K notes · View notes

loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Head spinning from blood loss, Eddie still manages to keep up a steady stream of curses as he lies in Steve’s arms, as he feels the jolt of Steve sprinting through The Upside Down.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking bullshit, fuck.”

“Good,” Steve says, frantic and out of breath. “Good, that’s—keep it up, Henderson says it can be, like, a sorta pain relief? Something about—”

“Fuck.” This time, Eddie chuckles through it. “S’not why I’m saying it.”

“No?” Steve says in that weird, measured tone that just silently screams panic, panic, panic. “Why?”

“Jus’ making sure,” Eddie says, and he knows that doesn’t make sense yet, can’t quite get his brain to work everything out. “Those’d be shit last words, so. They won’t be. You… fuck, ow. You know? Here lies Eddie Munson: fuck.”

Steve laughs, maybe a little hysterical, a little desperate, but mostly genuine. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be really embarrassing, man.”

Eddie suddenly can’t find the energy to act insulted, even though he badly wants to make Steve laugh again—but it turns out, he doesn’t need to say anything, because Steve keeps talking.

“D’you know what that would be, though? A damn good yearbook quote.”

And Eddie laughs, too—laughs even though it hurts. “C’mon, man, Higgins would never let—”

“Eddie,” Steve manages to drawl out, even as he dextrously weaves through the vines on the ground, like Eddie’s just said something particularly naive. “You think Higgins looks over the yearbooks? You just gotta sweet-talk the yearbook committee, they pay the printers to turn a blind eye, and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I’m known for. Sweet-talking,” Eddie says. He tries very hard not to cough, has the horrible feeling that he might tear himself in two if he does.

“Don’t sell yourself short, dude,” Steve says.

And Eddie would blame that on the blood loss for making him hear things, but then Steve’s hands gently squeeze around him like he means it, and…

“So what… what was your yearbook quote, Harrington?” Eddie says. He firmly ignores the fact that his voice is becoming increasingly slurred.

Steve picks up the pace, kicks through the door into the trailer. His breath hitches once, but not from physical strain; Eddie knows that he’s frightened.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve replies, chiding, because he’s so goddamn brave, too. “Not telling you that until we get out of this.”

“Tease,” Eddie says.

But he must not get it out very clearly, because as Steve heads to the Gate, he murmurs, “Stay with me, Eddie.”

There’s some rope Steve had stashed in the corner of the living room, just in case, and Robin and Nancy must’ve made use of it to get Dustin through, because it’s already hovering in the air, waiting for them.

“Okay,” Steve says, half to himself. “I’ve got this.”

Eddie attempts a nod. The room spins.

Or maybe it’s just that they’re moving somehow, that Steve’s pulling them both up the rope, somehow not letting go of Eddie; and then he can hear muted yells from the other side, and he’s being lifted up on his own, like he’s ascending to heaven or some bullshit like that, and he almost wants to demand a re-mark on his English paper, because religious symbolism is fucking hilarious, actually.

“You’re a goddamn trapeze artist, Harrington,” he says, and Steve must hear him this time, because there’s a laugh from just behind him, a fucking beautiful laugh, and then Eddie’s falling, and he’s—

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, and his hand goes to his side instinctively, and he didn’t think he had much more blood in his body left to lose, but… “Oh, shit.”

His vision tilts sickeningly, and right before he passes out, he sees Steve appear in front of him, sees his face turn white.

“Eddie,” he’s saying, “Nance, what do I—oh my god—”

When Eddie wakes up, everything is fuzzy, his head full of cotton. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth that he has enough awareness not to panic about, that he somehow knows isn’t blood.

“So?” he says through the fog, lifts his eyelids just enough to see Steve is beside him. “What’s your yearbook quote?”

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Steve says with a smile, but he’s speaking in the thick, nasal tones of someone who’s been crying. “Thought you were on stuff that makes you forget all the stupid shit.”

“S’not stupid,” Eddie says indignantly.

For some reason, Steve’s eyes soften. “If you say so. Just rest right now, Eddie.”

“Can’t,” Eddie moans. He’s already made the mistake of looking up: the lights are too bright, quickly turning into nauseating swirls. “Feel sick.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “They said that’s normal. Hey, shh, just lie back. It’ll pass.”

But Eddie shakes his head and—ooh, shit, not a good idea.

“Y’should move, man,” he says. “Don’t wanna puke on you.”

Steve scoffs. “Eddie, you could literally throw up in my hair, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Eddie laughs, feels a bit pathetic that it comes out wet around the edges. “I just… wanna sleep,” he says, because he does, but he knows the nausea will keep him up—feels abruptly tearful, like he had done as a child with whooping cough, up for the whole night despite his fatigue.

“Here,” Steve says. “Close your eyes.”

And as he does so, Eddie feels a soothingly cool palm across his forehead. Steve. It’s such a gentle touch, such a kind touch that Eddie thinks he might cry—thinks he can only partly blame whatever drugs he’s on.

“Better?” Steve asks.

“Better,” Eddie agrees. And then, like a fool, he hurriedly says, “Don’t stop, though,” out of fear that Steve will draw his hand back at the answer.

Steve doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease him even the slightest bit.

“I won’t,” he says, like an oath. His thumb rubs over Eddie’s temple. “M’sorry you feel shitty.”

“It’s okay. You’re right, it’s passing. Think… think it was just… lookin’ at the lights.”

Eddie sighs without meaning to, lulled by the repetitive path Steve’s fingers are tracing, over and over.

“Mm-hmm. Keep your eyes closed, then.” Steve hums softly, just in thought, not even close to a lullaby, but Eddie feels himself starting to drift off to it anyway.

“It’s a nice room you’ve got,” Steve says. “I would’ve rioted if it wasn’t. Big window. Just a view of the parking lot, sorry, not exactly five stars.” Another hum. “Kinda pretty in its own way, though. It’s getting a bit warmer. I saw—the other day, I looked out and saw these kids, there’s some grass a little bit away from… they were making daisy chains, I think. Was never good at… couldn’t get ‘em to tie right. So I’d just kinda tug at the grass, and… Hey, d’you know, some of the kids—like, our kids, I mean—they don’t even know about the buttercup thing, holding it to see if it like, glows, under your chin? I told Max about it when she got outta here—shh, she’s okay—and she just looked at me like I was crazy. She’s good at daisy chains, man, she told Lucas it was five dollars per flower and he paid it all, wore the damn thing on his wrist for the whole day. Stupidly sweet, but I couldn’t even say so or she’d, like, punch me.”

And Eddie’s used to painting a picture with words, used to creating fantastical landscapes out of thin air during campaigns. But as Steve goes on, talking about the kids (their kids), and flowers, and all the little signs of spring that he can’t see, Eddie falls asleep thinking that Steve’s given him the most beautiful, ever-changing view: how he sees the world.

Eddie doesn’t forget about the yearbook, but he doesn’t bring it up, simply because Steve keeps quiet about it.

It’s after a few weeks of the dust settling, reassurances that the nightmare’s over: of seeing Wayne and breaking down in tears of relief, of countless visits from everyone—mostly Dustin, second only to Wayne, of course; Eddie still says Steve’s tied for second place, at least, but Dustin insists it doesn’t count whenever Steve’s only there fleetingly to drop him off before heading to work.

It’s on an afternoon when he’s not expecting anyone, and Steve comes in, drops the yearbook right on top of his blankets.

Eddie looks down at it, hovers his hand over the front cover until Steve raises one eyebrow, as if to say, go ahead.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to find him. The picture is… there’s something beautifully imperfect about it, as if Steve had been caught by surprise by the flash going off when it did, lips tilted into a smile that’s relaxed rather than the typical rigid, picture-perfect look.

Eddie thinks that he finally gets what Wayne means whenever he says someone has ‘soulful eyes.’

And underneath the little box framing Steve’s picture, there’s…

There’s nothing. It doesn’t stand out, because not everyone on that page had opted to have a quote, but…

Eddie looks up. Steve shrugs, but his eyes are downcast.

“Yeah, sorry.” His voice is quiet; Eddie can hear a touch of embarrassment, and he hates it. “It’s not even… I didn’t even choose to keep it blank, really, the yearbook committee gave the deadline so far in advance, it… I had the time. Could’ve put anything.” He shrugs again. “Guess I couldn’t… guess I just, um… had nothing to say.”

Eddie closes the book. Sets it aside. Doesn’t take his eyes off Steve.

He gets it. If it’s even possible for him to be included in a yearbook, he’s confident he’d do the same—how do you even begin to sum up…? There’s nothing he could say about this year.

There are no words for it. For any of it.

But Eddie knows the ones that count.

“Tell me about work,” he says. He has the feeling Steve’s determinedly squeezed in a visit during his lunch break, his name tag askew.

Steve smiles, wrinkles his nose uncertainly. “But that’s so boring.”

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Maybe I like hearing what you have to say.”

Steve looks up finally; he smiles a little like he had in the photograph, as if something like a flash has surprised him.

And he talks about work.

But it’s more than that; it’s so much more. Eddie’s getting to see through a precious window.

He hears about how Steve noticed Robin wearing odd socks, and he only teased her about it when he was sure it wasn’t a deliberate twist on fashion she was trying out. How the sun meant it was hard to see the T.V, so he drew the blinds when no customers were around, made it feel like him and Robin had their own private cinema. And Eddie smiles fondly when Steve recalls smelling some kind of coconut perfume he couldn’t place, and Robin had started a list guessing names, just because he said it reminded him of a family vacation when he was four.

Eddie sees it all.

He doesn’t need clever one liners, or statements of grandeur.

He just needs Steve’s words.

#a thank u ficlet for all the kind messages ❤️ nbtdad getting worked on will be ready as soon as i can make it❤️#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

3K notes · View notes

nothomegal · 4 months

Note

HIII I MISS YOU :(( straight to the point, I need a yandere pyramid head fic!!

I´m sorry for the disappearance ;v; Can't post much due my studies.

Anyways, I ADORE your suggestion! And boy if our little (Y/N) is going to have a rough time with a yandere creature like Pyramid Head ._.)

Welp, let's start the story!

"Innocent lamb"

(Yandere!Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Summary: the entity's realm was hell for some, heaven for others, and an inconvenience for the rest... But when one of the creatures encountered you, he made it everyone's problem, even the entity's that brough him there in the first place. But he meant no harm to you. He likes you. He wants you. He needs you. And he wͦ̀ͯi̸ll̩ͩ have Y̛̗̰͇͚͓͈̣͕̰͓̗͛ͤ̀̇̍ͥ͒̓͝Ơ̵̔_̰̅U̵̷̡̧̡̨͖̟̹͙̙͓̥̗̫̣̙͉͕͉̣̬̇ͭ͗̉͂̅̍͗̇̇́́̈͟͞

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, violence and violent acts, quite angst(y) mood in general, (understandably) terrified reader darling :(.

Word count: 4.2k

The moment they entered the trial, all four survivors knew right away who the killer was. Either its the dread they all felt as soon as their feet made contact with the ground that gave it away, or the fact that the entity had placed all of them in the same spot next to two generators just to have any chances to make it out alive.

But they know it's in vain, they know they're doomed for a long long death by bleeding out.

They know it... Because (Y/N) is with them.

Said survivor had to bite their lip to avoid crying, as guilt and terror embraced them. Just because the monster had this unholy obsession with them it didn't mean they were okay with it, if anything it scared them more.

He, Pyramid Head, the Executioner... Or however you want to nickname him, is said to be one of the most powerful creatures the entity had the pleasure to bring, so powerful in fact that the spider-like being had to make a deal to bring him.

So it's not surprising that they are absolutely horrified, but who wouldn't? This monster, an embodiment of pain and punishment, almost a god, has been hunting them relentlessly ever since he laid his gaze or... Helmet? On them.

At first it was all jokes and gags;

'Aww look, (Y/N) has a boyfriend!'

'Watch out, here comes your crush (Y/N)!'

'Uh-oh, the triangle man seems jealous, look how pissed he is at Nea for healing you!'.

But the jokes stopped when it got clear how truly messed up and sinister said 'crush' is.

They still remember it, it was a regular match against that one masked knife wielding guy that runs a lot, he's called 'Legion' they think. The trial was going relatively well, just like many previous ones. Until it suddenly got an 180° turn when one of the walls to the realm was literally destroyed by a hulking mass of muscle and a giant knife. To say both (Y/N) and the killer nearly had a cardiac arrest was an understatement, things got so ugly that the entity had to intervene and cut the trial short.

That incident could be a fuel for a new wave of jokes, could... If it didn't happen again. And that next time was even worse, the beast nearly made his way into the survivor side of the realm, somehow bursting through the barrier the entity had created to keep the survivors separated from the killers to avoid any pity fights after trials.

Ever since that event, Pyramid Head was strictly kept in 'his' realm, aka Midwich Elementary School.

Sometimes, after escaping through the gates and running back into the camp through the fog, (Y/N) could swear they can hear the monster roar in the distance. Loud, distorted and fierce howls resonating somewhere behind the dense fog, as if the creature was desperately trying to yell out their name. Either to let them know how badly he wants them or a promise to break free and get them... Both possibilities giving them chills.

The entity of course wasn't okay with this, it was pissed! But it also could do so little... The great deal now had turned into a major curse. If the deal is broken, the Executioner won't hesitate to damage the realm to get what he wants. But if it remains, the monster will find new ways to bend the rules and make it everyone's problem.

Why the entity doesn't just give (Y/N) to the beast or gets rid of them ones for all? No one really has the answer. Some think it's due the entity's pride, or the possibility of the executioner going ballistic. For now, it's more of a silent (and petty) battle between two stubborn beings, each of them refusing to back away from their goal.

Goal. The entity's goal, though still confusing, is more or less clear; force people and creatures to play these twisted games and feed on those who get sacrificed. But the executioner's goal? It's straight up a mystery. (Y/N) know it has something to do with them, but... Why them exactly? Why not Cheryl? Didn't she come from the same place as that beast? What the monster even wants them for?

What will he do when he finally gets his hands on them? Wh-

A rough shake snapped (Y/N) out of their internal break down.

They blink a couple of times, tears of fear nearly sliding down their cheeks as their body shivers. They were scared, more than the other three survivors combined.

The survivor holding them by their shoulders, David, sighs when he finally notices them react.

—"Look, I know you're scared..."— he starts talking, his voice surprisingly calm.

—"I'm-... I- I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry-..."— you choke out in a weak wobbly voice, guilt eating you from inside.

—"No no. Just listen for a sec. I... Well, we all can tell that you aren't enjoying it neither. So, let's not break down into a soap opera, okay? Don’t think of this as hopeless match, but as another chance to woop that asshole's ass and escape."—

—"And also leave him empty handed!"— Feng announces from her place while already working on a generator.

—"Yeah, screw that triangular piece of shit! Let's try out Dwight's strategy this time. You remember it, do you?"— he asks you, not letting go of your shoulders yet.

The surprisingly positive and reassuring words of their teammates towards them really soothed and even cheered (Y/N) a bit. With a small smile they quickly wipe their eyes before nodding.

—"Good, see? We're already starting on a good note!"— he lets go to then pat your back, basically pushing you forward. —"Now go help with a gen before putting the 'plan' into work."—

Though the push hurt a bit, (Y/N) didn't care at all about the pain, too focused on keepings all the negative and pessimistic thoughts away.

For the first minute and a half everything was going well, (Y/N) and Feng were working on one generator while David and Jonah were working on the other one. The four of them were dead silent, straining their ears for any of the sounds the creature makes, such as heavy footsteps, the scraping of his gigantic knife or their own heartbeat. Weirdly enough, everything was calm... Too calm.

(Y/N) nearly choked with air when a cold chill ran through their spine.

Spine Chill. The beast... Is watching them.

They attempt to subtly alert Feng by carefully tapping her leg, but as soon as their fingertips touched the other girl’s skin, their heartbeat started to get louder and louder, until…

—“WATCH OUT!”—

(Y/N) exclaimed as they pushed Feng, just in time to dodge a bunch of sharp and rusted metal pieces coming out the ground.

—“Holy-...”— she mutters.

Now that the monster is here, the four survivors decided to put in action the mentioned strategy.

They all let go of the generators and run away in different directions, (Y/N) being the most desperate while running since they know exactly who the beast is targeting.

His pattern is always the same; chase after until sending them into a cage to then down all of their teammates and then come straight back to all caged and helpless (Y/N) and then… Stare or touch them until the others bleed out or the entity has enough.

The difference in the current case, is that (Y/N) is not playing just cat and mouse. In fact, chasing them is the worst the killer can do. All of their abilities are chase oriented, another teammate lurking around has all the boon ones, while the last two have all is needed to rush through the generators. If everything works out, the monster will get himself in a situation where he's be forced to leave (Y/N) alone.

The chase was intense, at least for (Y/N). Despite never catching a clear view of the Executioner, they could feel him close behind, following them methodically like a wild animal on a hunt, waiting for the right moment to strike while keeping up the tension.

It was hard to maintain the focus, every single hallways in The Game looked the exact same. Did they vaulted that window already? Didn't they pre-dropped that palled over there? Did Feng placed it up again? Are the other two working on the generators? Have they taken this left path before?

So many questions where swarming their mind as their legs kept carrying them on, only momentarily relaxing when two generators finally made that distinguish noise.

Two done! Tree left.

A breathless laugh escaped from them. Great! This is already going better than all of their previous encounters with the Executioner, which would always end with the first generator barely reaching 30%.

However, their smile was quickly swept when they realized they no longer hear their heartbeat or thundering footsteps tailing behind. It was silent, dead silent, with no other sounds that their own breathing.

A wave of anxiety flushed through (Y/N) like a tsunami wave and started to drag and drown them deeper into their own worries.

What the?... Okay, this was not part of the plan. The Executioner had never left the chase with them, never. So the fact that he finally did, and apparently a while ago, made them shake.

With nothing else to do, they gather the courage to start moving again. Where? Somewhere! Anywhere but to stay in place and be an easy target to the beast that so desperately wants them.

They keep running, stopping only for a brief moment before turning a corner, making sure they don't hear any muffled breathing that at times resembled growls. They learned the hard way with the Shape that some killers like to wait around corners, and they don't want to commit the same mistake right now.

Their heart jerked when they heard a scream resonate from their left, and a faint reddish aura in the shape of a human gleamed for a second before disappearing.

David is down.

And it seems like he's not getting picked up, which could either mean that the monster is setting up a trap or chasing someone else. Whichever the case is, they shouldn't go-

They hear a bunch of footsteps come their way, and in a set of panic they crouch behind a bunch of boxes, silently praying that their disguise is mildly good.

They can't see much from their spot, but they can clearly recognize the shape of Jonah running away from something massive.

As soon as the two figures passed by, (Y/N) gets up and takes off running towards David to check on him.

After some wondering around the labyrinth-like place, they finally reach their injured teammate, who was still on the ground and groaning from pain.

—"{David!}"— you whisper-yell as you start running towards him.

He weakly lifts his head just enough to see them. When he recognized who it is, he starts to frantically shake his head.

—"NO! GET THE FUCK OUT!"—

Huh? What-

As (Y/N) is about to reach David, a path of sharp metal pieces and razor wires had emerged right in front of them, just when they're about to make contact with the floor again, making in impossible to dodge.

The second their leg got tangled into the sharp metallic mess, everything went too fast. They don't even have time to pull away as something sliced them on their side, sending them directly on the ground.

They send a guilty and ashamed glance to David, who had an frustrated expression.

—"{Sorry...}"— you mouth.

(Y/N) has no chance to see David's answer as a massive hand suddenly curled around their throat and forced them to look away from the other man.

Their eyes wide at the sight of the beast menacingly hovering over their helpless form, holding their body in place between him and the ground. The muscles of his extended arm were tense, his breathing heavy, almost like he's holding back the anger and displeasure caused by them giving attention to someone else.

Their heart skipped beats, their breath uneven, their eyes watered as they tightly closed them, not wanting to witness whatever this thing was about to do. They can feel the warmth coming from his body, his breathing slowly stabilizing, as if staring at them and watching them slowly submit was enough to calm the monster. Ironically, it did the complete opposite to (Y/N), as their own heartbeat raised from the anxiety of having to face the unknown, attempt to predict the unpredictable and prepare to witness another massacre unfold around them at any second... Just to then end up caged and at the mercy of this-

—"LEAVE THEM ALONE ASSHOLE!"— David angrily yells from his place, struggling and trying to stand up. —"You're fucking terrifying, of course they don't want to look at you!"—

They can feel Pyramid Head's hand tense and start shaking, his fingers twitching and pressing further into their skin. (Y/N) was beyond terrified now, just a little bit of pressure and the creature could crush their throat like a cardboard tube.

David, though clearly using all of his strength, ended up falling back on the ground, as if some invisible weigh is actively pushing him down.

—“You freak! Absolute sick fuck! Let them go already!”—

As the waterfall of profanities continues, (Y/N) slowly places their hands around the monster’s wrist to attempt to push his hand away, unfortunately he didn’t budge at all.

Suddenly, David’s stops screaming and the very next second (Y/N) feels something warm and slippery press against their cheek.

They jerk in place at the uncanny sensation and shoot open their eyes, a breathless gasp escaping them at the sight of a… Wh-What even is that? A freaking tentacle? A tongue?…

The dark pink muscle wiggles in front of their face for a moment before licking another stride, wiping some of their tears and blood in the process, making (Y/N) shiver in discomfort.

They shoot a confused glance to David, desperately wanting to know if he’s witnessing this too. The man had an expression of pure ‘what the fuck’; eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and mouth slightly gaping.

This eye contact was brief though. (Y/N) got startled for a loud growl that reverbed from the beast's chest and helmet. The hand finally leaves their throat as the beast stands up to his full height and starts making his way to David, leaving them alone, as well as his knife?

(Y/N) throws their teammate a scared look, but David responds with a forced smirk.

—"Ah, now you decide to drag your big ass towards me."— he mutters through gritted teeth.

The monster seem to not react to his taunts. With each step that he takes towards David, his mask of confidence seems to crack.

Nevertheless, the man didn’t back out from his insults, he never does.

—“What’s wrong? Why so pissy, huh?! Jealous that (Y/N) prefers us?!”—

Saying their name was a sore spot to hit, and the way Pyramid Head reacted confirmed that.

The monster roughly grabs David by the neck, completely ignoring the fact that he’s not even holding his weapon. Instead he uses his bare hands to silence him.

Nasty, wet and crunchy sounds resonated through the room and hallways as the creature began to tear the man’s body limb by limb, piece by peace, unbothered by the pained screams of his victim or the low groan of displeasure that resonated from above for again not playing by the rules.

(Y/N) froze in horror at the sight in front of them. Blood, chunks of flesh and bone pieces where flying everywhere, never before they’ve witnessed this type of gore, not even during the ‘mori’.

Though it felt like the massacre lasted hours, it was actually second. The monster threw the whatever remaining he had in his hands and slowly turned back to (Y/N), who was still frozen and unable to look away from what was left from David. They know they will meet again in the fire camp, in one piece and alive, but god they felt sick...

Their shock breaks only when the thundering footsteps began to resonate again, shaking the ground underneath them with each the creature took. He grew closer, and closer, with them being able to do absolutely nothing aside from attempting to crawl away.

But that pity attempt was stopped when the same sharp wires and rusty metal pieces emerged from the ground and wrapped around their body, pulling them slowly underneath and sinking them further into the ground. And before they realize it, their body is already trapped in that rotten metallic cage.

Cold metal spikes just inches away from their flesh, so close to penetrate their skin, a wrong move and they would undoubtedly get hurt. But even if they wanted to move, they couldn't really. The space in the structure was small, claustrophobic even, each spike perfectly adjusted to keep their form in place. In some twisted way, it felt like a hug, a very cold, unwelcoming and unnerving hug.

They flinch when they hear a scream resonate from somewhere, which was cut by a loud slam.

Feng was caught.

It seems like the Executioner didn't bother to down her, rather getting rid of her directly, most likely because he's aware that Jonah is not keen of going for rescues...

And speaking of the man, there is his aura flashing before (Y/N)'s eyes as his body fell on the floor.

He's down... Which means that-

Before they even finish their conclusion, the tall figure of the monster appeared. Just by looking at them his behavior seemed to change; movements more erratic and pace uneven, almost like he's hypnotized.

He makes his way to them, slowly, as if purposely building up the tension.

(Y/N) wanted to look away or close their eyes, but whenever they did so the cage felt painfully small. It hurt, literally, so they stare at that beast grow closer with wide shaky eyes that struggled to keep their focus on him. This is something Pyramid Head was always good at, he could always make you fear, even the toughest bravest ones would inevitably succumb to the terror his presence brings.

Ones in front of them, the creature stops in place and simply stares, like he always did.

(Y/N), though still scared, was a tiny bit relieved that this is what the rest of the trial would be; them being pinned like a butterfly with the monster observing.

It would be just that.

Just this bizarre staring contest.

...Right?

WRONG.

The creature suddenly let go of his weapon and grabs the edges of the cage with both hands quite violently.

Now the little hope and comfort (Y/N) had was thrown out the window, as now they realize they no longer have any idea of what will happen next.

And by what it looks like, the entity is not planning to intervene, as if curious itself to see what will happen next.

Pyramid Head remains like this, his big hands tightly squeezing the imperfect metal bars, bending them slightly and making the already miserable looking material groan from the pressure he was applying.

It looked like he wanted to destroy that cage, rip it apart and get to them, but didn't do it by holding himself back... Why? What's even the point of this build up? What's even the point in wanting them?!

—"{Wh-...Why?...}"— you choke out in a very quiet voice. —"{Why a-are you d-... doing this?...}"—

(Y/N) knows is stupid to ask, Pyramid Head can't even speak! But they can't help themselves, they're too scared, their anxiety is unbearable and their thoughts are too out of control. They need answers, anything that could even hint for a possible explanation of the killer's intentions.

They began to second guess their decision to speak when the creature froze in place, even his breath was now inaudible. This was the first time (Y/N) spoke directly to the monster, but they didn't expect him to react at this fact, not like this, or at all.

But he did, he did acknowledged that little detail, and he will make sure they acknowledge it too.

The creature soon moves again, by slowly leaning closer and slightly tilting his head to the side, almost like trying to get a better look at them.

His breathing got heavier, low huffs and growls resonating from that metallic helmet of his. It really looked like he was actively holding back some major urge or desire, but what it is?

(Y/N) wanted to ask again, but decided against it as there is little Pyramid Head could do to answer, and even if he could, why should he? Maybe it's more amusing to him to see them helplessly wondering in the dark and unable to comprehend what's going on.

Or maybe, there is simply nothing to explain?... Maybe he does what he does just because? Human mind is way too used to seek for reasons and explanations for anything and everything, often forgetting that sometimes the answer is way too simple or straight up null, could that be the case?

The same groan coming from the cage bars pulled (Y/N) out of their thoughts. They forget how to breathe at the sight of the structure slowly collapsing as the monster starts to rip the bars with his raw strength.

A scared yelp escaped them as they try to back further into the cage as much as they can, ignoring the sharp edges that scratched or pierced their body. They barely felt pain, none at all actually, the adrenaline and basic survival instincts keeping their body resilient and ready to run. The sad part is, is that there is nowhere to run, nothing to do. It's sweet that their body tries so desperately to keep their hopes up and reassure their survival, but their mind is more than aware of the cold desolated reality...

The front part of the cage was eventually ripped off and thrown against the floor violently. (Y/N) can only cover their eyes with their hands and quietly sob as they wait for whatever the monster had planned to do next.

Even when no further actions are made, they refuse to look. They no longer want to face this thing, they no longer want to suffer this torment. Regardless if they believed in any religion or no, they mutter silent prayers under their breath, but not no save them, but to make it end and to know how sorry they are for any evil or harm they've did in their life that leaded to such tragic conclusion.

But this is where the catch is... They've committed none. At least from the Executioner's perspective.

Despite their whispers being so silent to a non-existent point, Pyramid Head heard them loud and clear. And the more he heard their voice, the more he felt the inside of his chest burn and the desire for them grow even more. (Y/N) is not perfect, they're human after all, and all humans have their fair share of flaws and defects... But unlike the rest, (Y/N) has the ability to acknowledge said imperfections and genuinely try to make up for them, to fix them... Regardless if they get something in return or not.

This, this is the true purity in a human being. An innocence and kindness so genuine that it would be a sin not to worship and protect... And who is a best fit to take care of it other than the fearsome Pyramid Head?

(Y/N)... So pure... So innocent... So kind... He must keep them save.

He must keep them...

He wants them...

W̴͕̳͈͔̭̝͠ͅ a̶̩̰̲̎̓͊̈̓̕ ǹ̴̢͇̬̘̗̯̜̍̋͊͠͝͠ ṭ̶͇̃̔͝ s̶̭̩͔̹̝̼̅̍̆̉͌͝

As the monster is about to reach them, a spider like legs burst out through the floor and wrap themselves around (Y/N).

The trial... Is over.

And while the absolutely livid roar gets overshadowed by the groans of the entity as the black fog surrounds the whole place. (Y/N) only keeps quietly sobbing as they cling to the spider leg sticking out of their chest. And though they knew the entity is the main responsible of their current torment, they were too overwhelmed with emotions to properly process their actions.

Surprisingly, the spider-like being didn't disappear right away, probably feeling pity for their situation and allowing them to cry for a brief moment, most likely to compensate this unplanned mess they have to deal with.

To everyone's surprise in the camp, when (Y/N) finally arrived they where unconscious, either passed out after such emotional roller coaster or the entity wants them take some genuine rest. Whatever the case it, it didn't matter, what matters is that their fellow friend is back save and sound, right?

As one of the survivors decided to take them closer to the bonfire for warmth and comfort, they could swear they heard some weird noises from afar.

It resembled a demonic cry filler with rage, so distant yet menacing. Everyone instinctively shivered.

And though (Y/N) successfully 'survived' yet another trial with the executioner, almost everyone had the gut feeling that the next encounter they have with the beast, it will not end good...

They all take a glance at their still unconscious form.

Poor (Y/N)...

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head fic #pyramid head x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #dbd fanfic #dark romance #dbd x reader

929 notes · View notes

hwasoup · 4 months

Text

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

songs to listen along with: the beast, etc..

art credit goes to Marbipa

OMG guys, I literally hat to let this one sit and marinate for a while even though I typed it out like so long ago. AND I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO ADD THE SONGS FOR LAST CHAPTER, DW I DID THOUGH. Ugh and I literally also just found out that i had a textbook for a class, i didn't deep dive into the syllabus. AHHHHH regardless I hope you guys enjoyyy !! our favorite characters have finally met!!

like always tell me if you’d like to be tagged !!

prev | ch.4

warnings: wrongful incarceration, bargaining, yelling, really bad british slang, mexican spanish (im sorry y’all im venezuelan ☠️)

word count: 3.3k

Chapter 3: The Beast

After going through the thick woods, trusting Felipe to take her to where she needs to go…

Y/N makes it deep and far in the woods and stops Felipe from galloping when she spots her father’s wagon. She looks at all of the scattered food, items, and even his invention. In worry, she clutches on Felipe’s reins tightly and directs him to keep on going. After riding Felipe some time, the air gets thicker and fog covers the entirety of the forest. She then notices Felipe starting to trot and make his way down a gravel path. She looks around the dead trees and notices the large gates and the grand castle in front of her. “What is this place…” she says nervously. Felipe then starts nickering and anxiously moving as he didn’t want to go inside the gates. Y/N had to get off to comfort the horse and calm him down. After a few moments, she turns around and peeks inside the gate to see her father’s hat. She opens them and she reaches for the hat and holds it tightly in her hands, her worry now increasing for him. “Come on Felipe, we have to go inside”

She mounts the horse once more and goes inside the gate, going through the garden until she makes it to the steps of the castle. Y/N then gets off Felipe and carefully goes up the stairs, grabbing a large stick from the stairs as a weapon incase if she needs to defend herself. She then makes it to the top and carefully opens the door. Peering inside she walks in hesitantly, as she looks around.

“Look Jess…it's a pretty girl”

“I can see that Miles, I lost my hands.. Not my eyes”

Miles then peeks at Jess and whispers “but what if she’s the one who’ll break the spell ?” Y/N turns around confused at the sound of whispering “Who said that ?” She looks around to see nobody except for a candelabra and a clock. She quietly approaches the two of them looking at the inanimate figures confused at what she heard. Her thoughts however were shunned as she could hear her father’s cough from a distance. In her desperateness to find him, she takes the candelabra and goes to look for him. Jess looks at Miles being taken and she simply sighs.

Y/N follows the sound of coughing to a set of stairs, as she gets closer she then peers into a hall that goes up a tower. She anxiously walks up the stairs as she yells out “PAPA ??” She walks up the stairs faster as the coughing gets louder “ERES TU PAPA ??” Y/N then gets to the top of the tower and gasps seeing her beloved father inside a dungeon. She throws the stick to one side and places the candelabra on a nearby shelf and places it there. Y/N then gets on her knees as she looks at her father in relief after searching for him “Oh papa, que paso?? what happened to you, your hands are ice cold..” she says holding him tightly through the metal bars. Mauricio looks at her in awe and simply says “how did you even find me ?”

“That doesn’t matter, we need to get you home !”

“Y/N please…listen to me it’s not safe here, you must leave at once! This castle is alive !” he says in a whisper, tightly holding onto Y/N’s hands. Y/N looked at him confused until she heard a deep growl echoing in the distance. She grabs her stick once more from the floor and looks around the dungeon. She firmly grips onto the piece of thick wood, as she gains the courage to look around and protect herself and her father. “Who’s there, WHO ARE YOU ?”

“Who Are YOU?”

The voice of a man echoes throughout the dungeon, his silhouette appearing in the distance. “I’ve come for my father..” Y/N says with determination in her voice. The sound of someone coming down the stairs is heard in the dark dungeon. “Your Father….is a thief”. Enraged, Y/N yelled out “LIAR!” The silhouette has now fully come down the stairs and standing before her, his silhouette still only seen “He stole a rose..” Y/N raises an eyebrow appalled at his words “I asked for the rose, punish me not him !” Mauricio looks at his daughter and shakes his head “No, Y/N don’t… he means forever, apparently that’s what happens around here cuando uno elige una bendita rosa”

Y/N even more appalled turned to her father and back to the silhouette “A life sentence for a flower ?” A loud roar is heard as it approaches her even more, she steps back a little but not entirely to stand her ground despite the small shivers down her leg. “I received eternal damnation for one” the figure said, the growl in his voice becoming deeper. “Then take me instead” The figure growls and looks away and angrily says “YOU-” his expression then softly changes as he was shocked at how willing she was. “Tú....Tú tomarías su lugar?”

Y/N bites her lip and nods a whimper coming from her lips releases in her voice “If I did…would you let him go ?” The silhouette’s voice became a bit softer but still gruff in its dominant position “Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever” he says. Y/N looks down and blinks thinking of what to do next, she notices there’s a light right between them, separating the two from fully seeing each other. “Come into the light” she demands. The silhouette becomes smaller as she starts to see two large paws, she then looks up to see not a man but a beast with the horns of a goat, a thick mane that covered his entire body and crimson red eyes that peered into hers. Y/N covers her mouth in shock and turns to her father dropping the stick yet again to hold his hands. “No, Y/N to te puedo permitir que hagas esto”

Y/N kisses her father’s hands and approaches the Beast, her voice faltering to a whisper “you have my word..” The Beast then growls and opens the door dragging Mauricio out and pushing Y/N in, not even letting the two share a proper departure. He then drags Mauricio all the way out of the castle and throws him inside a carriage “Take him to the village” Mauricio cries out to him “SPARE MY DAUGHTER PLEASE!” The Beast ignores him and growls as he closes the carriage door “She’s no longer your concern…” Mauricio cries out to him to let him out, but The Beast was already walking back inside his castle.

After a moment, The Beast is seen walking back inside the castle on all fours with an annoyed expression on his face. Miles had already hopped down halfway to meet him. “So, Uh Sir ?”

“WHAT” the Beast growled out. Miles cowered a bit but then adjusted himself “soo uh since the girl is going to stay with us for quite some time, erm umm” he rubs his other two candles together “I was thinking that y’know you wanted too uhh, bring her to a more comfortable room” he says with a sheepish smile. The Beast growls at him and keeps walking up the stairs ignoring what he said. “Or not” Miles says.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Up in the tower after a week ….

Y/N wept as she whispered comforting words to herself. She thought about all of those times with her father, how he told her that home is where the heart is. But she wasn’t home, she was lonely and locked away. Her face drained as she thought of making the tiny dungeon her home, tears kept on spilling out as she thought about her poor father, all alone with nobody to lean onto in her terrible village.

She then sees a shadow loom over her and notices its The Beast. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye..I’ll never see him again..” her tears taint her cheeks that have been stained from the grime of the dungeon. “I-I’l never..see h-him again..” she says in between sobs. The Beast then looks at Y/N and a bit of guilt plagues his mind. He scratches his head and then considers what Miles told him earlier.. “I’ll show you to your room..” he says softly as he walks out the dungeon.

“My room? But I thought -”

“You, YOU wanna stay in the tower ?”

“No..” she says softly.

“Then follow me..” The Beast says.

The Beast then guides her out of the tower and back into the castle, taking Miles with him along the way so that he could light up the hallways. As Y/N is escorted, she looks around the castle and its statues and notices how dark and lonely the place seemed to be. Her eyes stare fearfully at a statue of a hideous gargoyle and speeds up to catch up with The Beast.

The Beast heard her gasp and looked behind to see a single tear falling down her cheek, he looked back in his direction as he felt a bit more guiltier. “You should say something to her y’know” Miles says softly. The Beast nodded and turned to her “I..uhh…I hope you like it here” he looked back at Miles to see if it was ok. Miles then looks at him encouraging him to say a bit more. “The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you would like…except the west wing.” Y/N’s curiosity perks up and she asks “what’s in the west wing ?” He growled out “IT'S FORBIDDEN”. His voice echoed out into the empty halls of the castle. He then takes her to a suite and opens the door for her. “If you need anything…my servants will attend you.” Y/N walks in and looks around the room. She then turns back to him and softly asks “but what’s your name ?” The Beast looks down as he didn’t want to remember his name, as he isn’t human or anything similar to his name. “It’s Miguel..”

Y/N nods as she looks back to the room and looks around. Miles then in a corner of Miguel’s viewpoint whispers “dinner, go invite her to dinner” Miguel nods and he tries to find the best way to speak to her “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER…Th-THAT”S NOT A REQUEST” he says gruffly as he slammed the door. Y/N in shock of his words looked back at the closed door and back to the room. Spotting the bed she runs towards it and throws herself onto the pillows and cries her heart out. She hasn’t even realized that it has already started snowing outside signifying the start of winter.

About a couple of hours later, There was a soft knocking on the door. Y/N who was too busy crying hears it and softly says “who is it ?” She then hears a man’s voice “Its, Peter” Y/N approaches the door and quietly opens it and peers outside. She didn’t see anyone until she saw a serving cart with a tea pot and a small cup. “Oh wow you’re very pretty ma’am” he says politely with a smile. “I thought you would like a small cup of tea” Y/N backs up surprised at the sight and bumps into the wardrobe. Hearing a voice from the wardrobe she looks at it in shock “ooh, watch it ‘ere mate” Y/N backs up to her bed and sits down surprised. “B-but, this is impossible!”

“I know mate, but ‘ere we are. Oh and the name’s Hobie” Y/N looks around in awe and surprise and just sits, processing the whole situation. The little teacup then spoke, “I told you she was pretty daddy!” Peter chuckles and pours some tea into his daughter “alrighty May, go and hand it to her, gently without spilling” Mayday happily hops to Y/N and waits for her to pick her up. “Why… Thank You” Y/N takes it softly. She then takes a sip of the tea and hums softly, enjoying the taste. “Wanna see me do a trick ??” Mayday then giggles as she breathes in and blows bubbles into the tea. She gets scolded quickly by her father though.

Peter chuckles and looks at Y/N. “Y’know, that took guts kid,” Hobie nods and agrees with him “the whole castle’s buzzin ‘bout it.” Y/N sighs in disappointment “but, I’ve lost my father, my dreams, I’ve lost almost everything..” Peter smiles and gives her a warm smile “aww, don’t worry kid, things always turn out better in the end.” Peter then realizes that he’s still supposed to be in the kitchen “oh crap, i forgot i’m supposed to be helping in the kitchen.. Anyways it was lovely meeting you” he says as the serving table wheels away from her room and leaves.

“Well now, let's get somefink good for youse to get dressed for the old geezer ‘ere.” Hobie then opens his drawers and sees some moths fly out “m’bad dovey” He then pulls out a nice dress for her and says “ ‘ere ya go, somefink pretty for you dovey” Y/N looks at the dress and smiles softly “oh, that’s very kind of you Hobie, but i’m not going to dinner” Hobie then shrugs and puts the dress back inside his drawers “aight then, youse definitely gonna make that geezer more laughable” he says. A small pattern is heard walking inside the room, Jess walked in and took a breath. “Come on honey, dinner’s waiting” she says trying to lighten up the mood.

Down at the dining table however, Miguel is pacing back and forth anxiously waiting for Y/N’s arrival. He then growls annoyed “What’s taking her so long ....I told her to come down…” He then looks at Miles and a smaller candle who’s named Lyla. “aww come on Miguel, you do realize that she’s literally lost her freedom and her dad like last week” Lyla says, stating the obvious. Miles then nods and says “soo uhh, Sir, Haven’t you thought that this girl.. Might be the one who could break the spell ?” MIguel looks up to the two candles “OF COURSE I HAVE..I’M NOT STUPID” Miles then smiles and says “Then you fall in love with her, sheee falls in love with you, and POOF! We’re human! We should be back to normal by midnight !” he says with a confident smile. Peter on the table however, digresses on the situation. “Miles buddy, it's not that easy y’know… these things take time” Miles then frowns and softly says “but, Peter ...the rose is already starting to wilt..”

Miguel then looks down and sits on all fours and grumbles “Oh, it’s no use..” he runs a paw through his large mane “it's just that she’s just so beautiful, and i’m well.. WELL LOOK AT ME” he says with a snarl. Peter then sighs and looks at Miguel “aww come on Miguel, you have to help her see through all of that” Miguel then growls lowly “I don’t know how” he says as his ears flatten to the sides. Lyla then grins and pitches in “then how about a quick lesson on how to be a gentleman 101: Sit up and try to be kind.” Peter smiles and also shares a few thoughts “oh then don’t forget to give her a sweet smile, come one show me one Migs” Miguel then proceeds to give the most toothiest and quite horrible smile, even Lyla had to step back a little out of surprise. “Now don’t scare her, charm her” Peter says. Miles then blurted out “Oh, OH and impress her with your intelligence!” Miguel looks at all four of them trying to absorb the information, his mind whirling at almost everything that he has to do, that just seemed utterly impossible. The quartet continued to bombard him with a whole bunch of manners until they all said at the same time “and the most important of all, CONTROL YOUR TEMPER!!!” Miguel wipes his face from the small bead of sweat that was forming.

Then, the sound of a door is heard opening, Miguel looks up in anticipation but is met with only Jess coming inside. “SO, evening everyone..” she says nervously. Miguel then raises an eyebrow “Well ? where is she ?” Jess takes a deep breath in, just knowing how Miguel is definitely going to react “soo, she’s…yea she’s not coming”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT ??!!!!”

Outraged, Miguel leaves the dining room and runs as quickly as his legs and hind legs could take him, all the way upstairs and into the east wing. Peter yells out “Nononono, WAIT MIGUEL !”

Miguel manages to outrun them and make it to Y/N’S door and basically smacks it as hard as he could “ I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN FOR DINNER” y/n behind the door responds to him “I’m not coming” she says with a little huff in her voice. Miles, Lyla, Peter, and Jess just facepalm and shake their heads in disappointment. A sigh was even heard from behind Miguel from the huge letdown. “YOU BETTER COME OUT, OR I’M- YO VOY…VOY A ROMPER LA BENDITA PUERTA !”

Miles whistled and just said “so, just a quick suggestion , but uh….that really isn’t the best way to impress a girl..” Jess nods and sighs “Miguel just for once, can you actually just be polite to her?” Miguel gestured to the door “But, she is being so DIFFICULT” Peter then comes beside him and softly says “gently Miguel, you’re spooking her..” Miguel groans and lowers his tone at the door “Will you come down for dinner ?” he closes his eyes hoping that she would say yes to this tone in his voice. “No!” Y/N says.

Miguel’s eyes widened and his ears shot up in surprise and he gave a look pointing to the door as he tried to prove his point to the servants. Miles then says “suavemente y gentilmente…”

Miguel then takes a deep breath and tries again, “It would give me a great pleasure, if you would come out and join me for dinner.” He looks up to the door slightly hoping that she would come out this time…although his temper is starting to boil.

Jess coughs “COUGH- we say please- COUGH”

Miguel rolls his eyes and softly says please

Y/N simply says “NO, THANK YOU !” Everyone watching the interaction watches in shock as they know he’s going to blow.

Miguel then belts out “YOU CAN’T STAY IN THERE FOREVER”.

Y/N on the other side of the door yells out “QUE SI!”

Miguel snarls and roars out “FINE THEN GO STARVE FOR ALL I CARE PINCHE DESGRACIADA”

He looks down to his servants “IF she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all” Miguel then growls out and runs off away to his room into the west wing. He opens the door annoyed and just grumbles to himself “I ask nicely but she refuses, like que quiere?? que yo hago? BEG ??” In a flurry of rage, he goes to a table where the enchanted rose is encased in a glass dome. Beside it is his magic mirror that was gifted by the enchantress. Miguel then grabs his magic mirror and looks into it “ensename la niña”

The mirror then glows a greenish blue color and shows him y/n sitting in bed being comforted by Hobie. “Aww come on Dovie, the old bloke ain't so bad..” Y/N however was sitting in bed dejected and not too convinced. “I don’t want to though...I don’t even want to do anything with him!” Miguel, shocked, puts down the mirror as he feels that same familiar feeling of hopelessness takes over his mind “who am I fooling…she’ll never see me as anything other than .... than a monster” he says as his voice shakes. He looks at the rose and sees a petal that slowly fell down and wither making the castle shake and crumble a bit.

“It’s hopeless…”

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n, @badbishsblog, @faimmm, @opalwitchart,

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #spiderman miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel 2099

400 notes · View notes

radiance1 · 5 months

Text

A castle mysteriously appears in Gotham one night.

Nobody who noticed it knows where it came from, nor how it got there as it seemingly appeared overnight. It wasn't anything big, as far as castle's were concerned, it seemed to be on the smaller side of things.

However, no one could truly estimate it's actual size. For there seemed to be an ever-present fog that never seemed to stray past the castle's gates.

Just like the fog, you always seemed to hear the cawing of crows and the flapping of bats whenever you step close enough. Yet their visibility was kept hidden in the fog.

Appearances aside, there did seem to be something... off, about the castle and not just because it appeared from thin air, no. It seemed to have a distinct aura of something... other.

No one knew how to explain it, but they could tell there was nothing natural about it. There was something fundamentally wrong with the castle, it wasn't the way it appeared out of nowhere, nor it's appearance.

===

When Sam finally became an adult, she didn't have to think twice about moving out. It was a bit difficult, with her parents not wanting to let her go just yet, but her grandmother managed to persuade them, thankfully.

When she was younger, Sam had always dreamed of owning a castle. Though its appearance did change in her mind when she grew older, from pretty and pink to one of darker colors and crows, which is why she never got one when she was younger, she realized.

But now that she was an adult, what was stopping her?

Nothing, that's what.

So, Sam buys one that matches her tastes and moves in. There was a lot of space, far more than she really ever thought about and now had to find a use for.

Magic.

Was something that enthralled Sam ever since she was young, that and the occult as a whole. So, for a few months after moving did she try and get her hands on things like magical tomes, items, scripts and learn it.

Surprisingly, she was strongly successful in her attempts of learning magic. It was surprising to be sure, but now that she compares it to the portal to the afterlife, having a half dead friend and having hunted down ghosts, she realizes that magic wouldn't be that much farfetched in the equation.

A fair bit of her time now was spent covering her castle in wards, sigils, and runes, ones that would strengthen themselves over time, various protection wards and multiple others that she found useful. Most of them were ones that she found through text, though others were ones she personally made.

After she finished the entirety of the castle, she studied thoroughly to gain more knowledge and power for herself, she even made a few spells of her own along with various potions. Unfortunately, she was interrupted in her studies by various other witches, because apparently having such a powerful fledgling witch on her lonesome was too tempting of an offer to pass up for the nearby covens.

So she had to... move, before they tried to force her to join them. As for how, well, she moved her entire castle! What better way to refuse, really?

Unfortunately, it was her first time using such large-scale teleportation magic and she messed it up. Not that her calculations on where the castle was supposed to be were wrong, but while in the midst of moving through space she was... thrown off kilter.

She didn't even know how or what caused her to mess up. But her castle both was and wasn't where she wanted it to be. Her original destination was coordinates near Amity Park, and while they were on said coordinates.

This wasn't Amity Park.

To say she worried was an understatement. She scrambled to find something about where she ended up, and realized not only was she thrown off kilter, but she was also thrown off so badly that she ended up in an entirely different dimension. Luckily, she managed to make the philosopher's stone.

To say making it was easy would be wrong, for even she didn't know how she created it. It was by accident and for a while she didn't even know she had made it, when she had and tried to do something with it the stone had, uh, well.

It fused into her skin.

It had placed itself right over her face, on her chest, and it granted her immortality it seemed. Though that wasn't the effect she was currently thankful for no, the effect of making gold would be valuable to her, she wouldn't have the Manson wealth, but she could at the very least sustain herself.

For now, though, she did have her studies to get back to.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #I remembered about my old au somewhere in the Batpham discord #I think it was called Hecate's castle or something?#But that had a hand in this post #Sam is a powerful witch and that attracted the gazes of various covens #So she just took her castle and left #Unfortunately something through off what was otherwise a successful large scale teleportation #And Sam ended up in the DC universe in Gotham #She also made the philosopher's stone but that one was more on accident than anything purposeful #Like she cannot replicate what she did to make it at all #If I see ghost king Danny in this post I will riot.#This is Sam-centric #We don't need that ghost twink in here #Sorry that was mean ily Danny #Not when your ghost king tho downgrade to a prince or non royalty and then we'll talk #AHEM #Anyways #I was thinking of how Sam could be called Hecate here but ahhhh #We'll see about that in the future lol #Wow this is a lot of tags #Anyways I shall stop now

971 notes · View notes

oepionie · 1 year

Text

BELOVED BAT-WIFE. lilia vanrouge

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge x Fem! Reader, Platonic! Sebek x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Lilia's wife makes an impromptu visit at NRC. Sebek is dragged into this mess and has to help her sneak into the campus.

A/N:: This is the first fic I've written in years!

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Maybe a bit OOC?, Reader is not Yuu and is said to be a mage

Word Count: 800+|💌Masterlist | Batwife masterlist

"Lady Vanrouge! When you told me you planned to visit, this wasn't what I had in mind!" Sebek hissed, staring at you through the gate's frame. He responded to your SMS asking him to meet you at the school gates as soon as possible. Despite the fact that it was two in the morning, he ran to your position right away. How he arrived in under 10 minutes is remarkable.

"I did say it was a last-minute decision." Shaking your head, you pulled the hood to your robe up and slipped on a pair of leather gloves. Indeed, you did send Sebek a letter to inform him of your plans beforehand. Leaving out the fact that you planned to sneak in like some petty thief.

"Now hold this gate steady for me, ok?"

Sebek's eyes practically sprang out of his head when you started climbing the tall gate. He yelled at you to be careful as he grasped the gate with both hands, firmly grasping the metal bars. You easily climbed to the top and laughed as you tossed yourself to the opposite side. Shrieking, Sebek ran to catch you, nearly toppling over from the force.

"Nice catch, my boy!" You grinned, patting his shoulder and setting yourself down. Sebek heaved, kneeling over and pressing a palm over his chest to calm his racing heart from the stunt you just pulled.

"You-Lady Vanrouge-!" Sebek started. "You're a mage! Why would you do that!"

"Teleporting or flying would definitely be easier…but that's boring~" You drawled, a cheeky grin on your face.

"Now, which way is that mirror again? It's been ages since I last set foot on this campus-literally!"

You linked both your arms together and began to pull the boy towards the academy, ignoring any and all of his complaints.

"I really think we shouldn't be doing this." Sebek muttered, begrudgingly pushing the doors to the mirror chamber open. You both slid inside, the door behind you closing with a snap.

It was already late at night, and the moon shone through the windows, its light reflecting off the mirrors. You took a step closer to Diasomnia's portal, tracing the engravings on its frame.

Had they changed parts of it? You noticed certain details that were not previously present.

"Well, too late to back off now. You're making me start to think you don't actually want me here." You pouted, shifting your gaze to Sebek's rigid body beside the doorway. He jumped and dashed over, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Of course I do, Lady Vanrouge! Your presence is always appreciated! I only wish you had chosen safer means to visit!" He yelled, his booming voice practically rattling the walls. Chuckling, you ran your fingers through his hair before patting his head.

"I jest. Now, let's not keep them waiting. Shall we?" You clasped Sebek's hand with your own and stepped into the mirror.

A blur of colours hit you for a moment before you found yourself whisked away to the dark brooding castle Diasomnia calls a dorm. Standing atop the cobblestone steps, you took a deep breath. The air was thick with smothering moisture, like a fog.

The dim light of a window in the distance drew your attention. Among the many windows in the castle, it was the only chamber that was lit up.

"O-Oh? Is someone still up at this late hour?" You wondered, still light-headed from the teleportation. Sebek placed a hand on your back to stabilise your wobbly form. "Ah yes. That's probably Master Lillia, he tends to hold gaming sessions at this hour."

"Is that so?" You huffed, brows furrowing as you glared at the window. "...That damn bat."

Of course, this wasn't news to you. Silver frequently wrote to you about his father's long gaming sessions, which sometimes lasted days or even weeks. Just as you were about to march up to the castle, an arm wrapped around your chest, pulling you back.

"No need to look so mad, dear." A deep voice lulled.

Behind you two, Lillia appeared with an impish smile on his face. Sebek flinched before greeting Lilia vigorously while maintaining a stiff posture of attention.

"Good evening, Sebek! Would you go and get Silver and Malleus for me? This is going to be a lovely reunion." Lillia spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was perched upon a nearby tree, hanging off one of the branches.

"Yes Sir!" With that, Sebek was off, dashing towards the castle.

With a frown etched onto your face, you turned your gaze back to the fae who was still upside down. Lillia hummed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. "Hello there, beastie."

"Still pulling the same old trick, I see." You grumbled, grabbing his arm to pull him down. Lillia smushed his cheek against your shoulder, peering up at you through his lashes.

"It's a classic of mine, isn't it?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fluff #diasomnia #silver vanrouge

3K notes · View notes

astaroth1357 · 7 months

Text

Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Belphegor Headcanons

You know, I was going to write this for Simeon, and I still might, but Belphie lost the Dad poll and I must right an injustice when I see one.

Content: Somehow incredibly fluffy with Big Happy Family vibes; mostly meme fodder

~♡♡♡~

I refuse to believe this could have been planned. No person in their right mind is going to look at Belphie and go, "Oh yeah. That's some real good father material right there!" Belphegor wouldn't even say that to himself.

Either a condom broke, a pill was skipped, or some orphaned demon child imprinted on these two like a baby duck and followed them home. Either way, NO ONE wanted this, but it's happening.

Belphegor's reaction to realizing that he's a Dad:

Everyone else's reaction to realizing Belphegor is a Dad:

Beel's reaction to realizing that he is an Uncle:

But seriously though, Beel is the only one with any kind of unwavering faith that his twin can pull this off. Never doubts him for a second and never will.

Everybody else though....? Well. Satan is already cleaning out the local libraries of their parenting books, Asmo's searching Mommy blogs, and Lucifer keeps staring off into the middle distance like he's questioning every single life decision that has brought them to this point. Fear is rampant, despair is on high.

The biggest worry is that Belphegor is going to leave MC more or less high and dry. He's not exactly known to be a "go-getter" when times are tough and though he has his soft side, sure, no one would call it particularly "nurturing."

Diavolo and Barbs weren't even sure if they should announce the news to the realm. Of course one of the Lords of the Hell having an offspring is a pretty big deal but under these circumstances...

What if it was treated like a joke by the populous? Painting a target for ridicule on Belphie and MC's backs had to be the LAST thing anybody wanted...

Even Belphegor, in a pretty heartbreaking moment of self-reflection, tried to convince Beel to take over for him instead. Not to shirk the responsibility, but out of pure acknowledgement that he would make the better father between them...

Beel, of course, was not having this for a second. And you know what? Everyone would do well to listen to the wisdom of Beel! Because he knew instinctively something that everyone else had conveniently forgotten-

No matter the circumstances, Belphie's kid was a part of the family. And that meant that they, the MC, and even Belphie himself were never going to be doing this alone.

And that fact was proven quickly enough when every member of the family, extended or otherwise, stepped up to lend a hand.

Levi and Mammon took it on themselves to go out and buy whatever baby items they needed and seemingly came in every day with handfuls upon handfuls of bottles, baby gates, socket covers, and TOYS (literally so many toys. They bought more toys than diapers).

Lucifer and Asmo set to work on renovating a nursery/kid's room almost immediately. The eldest had the plans drafted within a week of the news while Asmo buried MC and Belphie in paint swatches and magazine catalogs for the walls and decor.

Satan roped Beel in to help him train Belphegor to be a little less lazy and more attentive to the MC and the baby. Even going so far as to curse a baby monitor to sound like fog horn to him and only him if the kid began to cry.

The angels chipped in with gifts and free offers to babysit (mostly from Simeon, but Luke is already eyeing the little one like a baby sibling and is protective as such).

Solomon uh... Well Solomon offered to cook MC whatever they wanted through the pregnancy at first, but when that got a HARD veto he switched to just giving HoL a touch of magic baby proofing. Nobody can figure out how to get under the kitchen sink anymore, but that means the baby won't either!

And, of course, despite Belphegor not liking him much, Diavolo is probably the BEST psudeo-uncle a kid could have. He's already sent Barbatos out to curate the best baby food and Lucifer is training him on how to hold infants properly so he can take turns being babysitter with Simeon.

As a father... Belphie isn't perfect. He did whine more than a few times about no longer being the "baby" everyone doted on. A couple times, he may even act just as childish as his kid...

But in the moments late at night when he's rocking them in his arms, dead tired from being awake for hours but determined to make sure they sleep first...

Or when he's walking around the House with them tucked to his chest because they'll never cry if he holds them.

How he pays attention to every little thing that interests them so he can craft each of their dreams more exciting than the last...

Or how he, more than any of the others, knows what a precious treasure it is to be with those you love since you never know when they'll be gone...

He'll do alright. With the love and support of everyone else, their child will have everything they need...

As long as they don't turn out as spoiled as he is 💀

#tales from the drafts #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me headcanons

448 notes · View notes

reno-korino · 8 months

Text

A complete analysis of Cazador Szarr, his palace, and spawn

A week ago, I posted a Reddit thread analyzing everything to do with Cazador Szarr. I wanted to bring it here! THIS IS A VERY LONG POST, THIS IS YOUR WARNING BEFORE CLICKING. Here is the Reddit link.

Who is Cazador Szarr?

According to the Forgotten Realms wiki for Cazador Szarr, The Szarr family was a family of Baldur's Gate who were once wealthy merchants and farmers.

I couldn’t find any information on what year the actual Szarr family was attacked, but the information I do have is, “Long before the 15th century DR, the land that would encompass Tumbledown held a grand estate that belonged to the mercantile Szarr family. Unfortunately, every member of the Szarrs was murdered by a rival house, and their holdings were burnt to the ground.” It was unknown how Cazador survived. Maybe he organized this? After the tragic incident, Tumbledown was filled with fog. In addition, the Outer City expanded over the area, and it would become a large cemetery.

Decades prior to 1482 DR, a portion of the cliffs that surrounded the area fell away. Because of this, part of the family crypts were revealed; graverobbers seized the opportunity to plunder the tombs.

Cazador is known as Cazador Szarr 'The Avid', according to a scroll titled “Vampires before Vellioth” From this information, we can see that Cazador turned from Vampire spawn, to Vampire Lord the year 1276, and about 20 years later give or take, is when he turns Astarion into a vampire spawn. Considering the game is set in 1492, this means Cazador has been a vampire lord in Baldur Gate for about 216 years. One of Cazador's slaves, Astarion reported that he was turned into a vampire spawn almost two centuries prior to 1492 DR(1292).

Cazador is the patriarch of the Szarr family, (The head of the family) he apparently didn’t want military or political power, He likes power over people. So when he speaks, Astarion (or vampire spawn) body has to react. He apparently made vampire spawn torture themselves and each other for fun. You can interact with a bust in his palace which reads to be 'Mordic SeLanmere', the most powerful vampire king. It suggests that this might be Cazador's ancestor?

After talking/killing the Gur Gandrel, Tav can talk about the night Astarion met Cazador, and you’re able to call out that it was convenient Cazador just happened to find him. Astarion will deflect and claim he probably was found because of the smell of blood. When you do ask Astarion if you should be worried about Cazador hunting you down, he says you should always be aware, but Cazador was never one to actually leave the city ever. (get a life, Cazador.)

Astarion only assumes Gandral works for Cazador, which is false. If you give Astarion up, he'll be held at the Gur camp, where everyone will be slaughtered in Act 3 by Cazador, and Astarion will go back to the Palace as a zombie.

If you don't kill the Gur Gandrel, you actually find out that his two children were part of the 7,000 spawn trapped by Cazador. Sparing Gandrel, and the rest of the 7,000 spawn will let you briefly talk to him, and his two now vampire spawn children,

Cazador has some beef with the Gur (Obviously since he steals their children) because the werewolves that fight you are ‘Fallen Gur Hunters’. At the party, we can also see the werewolves that fight you are from the Hhune family. There’s a ‘Chatterteeth’ that fights alongside Cazador, who is, like Godey, a pair of bones. I’m not sure what Cazadors affinity is for werewolves, maybe its his twilight fantasy of Edward x Jacob?

On Astarion Ancunín

Astarion's age of death is 39, rather young for elves. His grave reads: 229 - 268 DR 498 DR. This Reddit thread gives good information.

Astarion was turned into a vampire by Cazador Szarr in the year 1292DR. Before he was a vampire, Astarion was a magistrate. A magistrate judge is a judicial officer of the district court and is appointed by majority vote of the active district judges of the court. A group of vagrants, a group called the Gur beat Astarion to deaths door when they took issue of a ruling Astarion made. It is there Cazador 'saved' him with the choice of 'life' or 'bleeding to death in the street'.

It isn’t said if Cazador made/let/stopped Astarion from continuing to be a magistrate. Since Cazador saved Astarion from the Gur, he ‘chased them off’ and turned Astarion into a vampire. I think it would be interesting if there was some sort of political move since a large opinion is that Cazador organized the attack. Perhaps there was an issue with Cazador's status?

-- My theory about Astarions family

In another comment, someone suggested Astarion might be from elsewhere instead of being born in the city. The idea he came to Baldur Gate because he wanted to pursue bigger things and become a Magistrate seems in character without having to add in his family, but you'd think he'd be concerned about his family and vise versa? Unless Astarion had bad blood with them.

At the end of the day, for his main 7 spawn, it doesn't make complete sense to have them be born and raised in Baldur Gate with a full family, since that's way too many connections. Too many distractions when they're out getting marks, and too many opportunities for Cazador to be exposed. Since there are 7,000 spawn created by Cazador, but only 7 that he 'keeps', so there has to be some sort of reason.

Were they the most beautiful? Alluring in his eyes? Or perhaps, the most charismatic, or did they have the least amount of connections that could come back to bite him? Surely, there has to have been one incident. Wouldn't that be interesting if there was at least one spawn we don't know, that used to be of the original 7, but was 'taken out' because a family kept asking too many questions?

*-- *

Cazador, on making Astarion vampire, also made him crawl out of his own grave.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and clew my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up first and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

It's unclear if Cazador gave all the spawns the same treatment, but my opinion is he did this to send a direct message to Astarion. Astarions grave is in the Thorass alphabet, Showing that his last name is Ancunín. The only way to get to this grave is during a dialogue scene at the end of "The Pale Elf" quest, widely considered the 'good ending' in which the player does not let Astarion ascend. Asended Astarion will not bring you to the grave, and can not be found when in the cemetery in the city.

Astarion also mentions when talking about being turned into a vampire about how painful it was, saying, "I remember how it hurt when I turned into a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last."

In earlier patches, Astarion mentions how he begged Cazador to be turned instead. This is old though, so I wouldn’t say this is reliable.

Astarion does also say in a voiceline that:

"The mindflayers weren't my first kidnapping. A long time ago, I crossed Cazador, a powerful man in Baldur's Gate."

Astarion would bring the people for Cazador, he’d tease Astarion by asking him if he’d like to dine with him, and if Astarion said yes, he’d get a rat(girl dinner). If he said no, he’d have Astarin flayed.

There is also Astarions worst memory, when he was sealed, buried alive for a year. If you ask him about it in Act 3, he talks about how in his first decade, he found a darling boy that he couldn’t bring back to Cazador. So Astarion ran and disobeyed. Cazador caught him and sealed him up, starved him inside a dusty tomb for a year. He claims,

“A year of silence. Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out. More months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.”

Astarions Brothers and Sisters, the Seven Spawn

It seems Cazador has his main seven spawn, Astarions ‘brothers and sisters’. Seems like Cazador had a real, manager-in retail type mentality and claimed they were ‘all a family’ even while he was carving scars into their flesh. To note, I’m not sure why the only scars Astarion DOES have are the ones on his back. Apparently, Astarion was ‘one of his firsts’ which signals that Astarion might be the second spawn? The rest came years later, but took a special interest in Astarion for his ‘sweet sounds’. Astartion does seem to have some sort of survivor's guilt for them. It isn't ever specified who came first, or who was the most recent.

The respective spawn names are: Leon, Aureila, Yousen, Violet, Dalyria and Pale Petras

They all have the same stats. The demographic is:

Female (3/7) - 43 %

Male (4/7) - 57 %

With 1 Tiefling(Aurelia), 1 Halfling(Yousen), 3 elves(Violet, Astarion,Dalyria), and 2 humans(Pale Petras, Leon) - This is based on observation, I could be wrong!

Their eyes will be glowing red, which means they are under the influence of Cazador. This applies to all the spawn. Once Cazador is dead, their eyes stop glowing.

When Leon and Aurelia confront you at the inn (and attack you), Aurelia claims Cazador knew where Astarion was the entire time, likely watching us from the shadows.

Cazador apparently promised the 6 vampire spawn that he’d set them free. You can learn more about Pale Petras, where he wants to bring back one more person so when he is ‘free’, he will have someone to drink dry right off the bat. Dalyria doesn’t seem to humor the idea and instead wants to leave in fear of angering Cazador by being late, BUT interestingly enough, the vampire spawn are out in the day in a tavern, which means they are hunting day AND night? Considering how Astarion talks to Pale Petras, it's clear that they don’t really get along too well.

When you meet the spawn slave, after succeeding on a perception check, you notice on all 7,000 spawns, "Beneath the first and blood, you notice that every prisoner has a rune carved into their flesh." What is interesting, is it only looks like Sebastian is the only one with these marks. I looked at all the other spawn NPCS and couldn't find anything visible. The runes marked into Sebastian also look kind of fresh, so this perhaps was a recent thing? Unless I'm reading the scars wrong, but from how Astarion talked about his scars, it doesn't sound like he was given them as soon as he was turned into a vampire spawn.

As for the appearance of the other spawn, I can chalk it up to the models not being completely finished with the runes, I suppose… Either that or Tav can see under people's clothes…. kinda weird!

More on Cazador and Baldur Gate

According to Astarion, Cazador is just another ordinary noble in Baldur City. He says that Cazador is a little reclusive perhaps, but just another ‘the great and good’ of Baldur’s Gate. He apparently has a grand palace on the hills of the Gate, where he hosts the city’s high society. This makes me wonder, since there is a ballroom in Cazador’s palace if he hosts all these large high society balls. Astarion wonders if Cazador would risk exposure by doing it at the palace, signaling that Cazador at least, does care for his image.

When your character is a Baldurian, you can ask, “That giant gothic monstrosity has been inhabited by vampires this entire time?” So at least the citizens of Baldur Gate can see how out of place it is.

The Szarr Palace has a palace south tower and ramparts. He has city guards charmed guarding the entrance. It also has a garden and beautiful architecture. The Szarr palace colors are teal and red. My analysis of the building is linked.

The dialogue from Astarions origin character playthrough when he has a nightmare about Cazador:

Spoken like a true old bitch:

“First, thou shelf not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.”

“Second, thou shalt obey me in all things.”

“Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.”

“Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.”

Cazador keeps all the spawn underground in cages. When meeting Sebastion in the cages, you tell Sebastion he’d been down there for “One hundred and seventy years. You were one of my first, too.” This means either the “200” years is more 175 years, or he might not have gone out to get spawn for around ~15 years. It could also mean Astarion sees the 15 years as a short period of time, which would make sense.

Astarion thinks that Cazador hired the Gur to find Astarion in Act 1, and the Gur does not know what Cazador really is. If you give Astarion up and go to Cazador in the future, he will ask you if you’re the one who “took my poor Astarion under your wing, only to abandon him so cruelly?”

What’s really interesting, if you interact with Astarion in the ritual, he’s a zombie, unlike his other spawn. Could this be because he was tortured by Cazador, flayed?

When you read Cazadors mind after killing him without Astarion, it seems Cazador has nightmares of “The boy I was, the man I became, the monster that will not end. I sleep, but cannot rest, I live, but cannot die. I am eternal, and I grieve.” I say shut the fuck up, Cazador.

Obviously, Astarion meeting Cazador in the current up to date patch(9/7/2023) , he’s very demeaning. Man rolls his r’s like he’s still in the fucking renaissance. He claims Astarion is still his even if he can resist his words. He waves around his stupid little staff, but his magic is still strong enough to grab Astarion into the ascension ritual even if you roll a nat 20 to resist.

On talking to Astarion about coming home :

Cazador seems to have mortal servants walking around the palace. The Servants aren’t charmed, but they are ‘fanatics’ as Astarion claims, “Here of their own free will, and utterly devoted to Cazador.” He says, “Each one came to our door and begged to be given his ‘eternal gift’. They’re sure he’ll turn them if they serve him well enough” whatever the fuck that means.

What I can gather from this information is, that people do know that Cazador is a vampire lord, but obviously not everyone. It's like the well-kept secret that isn’t a secret because Astarion claims earlier that Cazador wouldn’t want to do the ritual at the Palace for fear of exposing himself. If anyone else has any clarification that Cazador is a known vampire, please, I'm all ears.

The servants seem to be obsessed with keeping the place clean, making sure it's ‘pure’. But that’s kind of hard considering there are BATS flying around everywhere in this palace. I can't tell if they are paid at all, either, they are just there freaked out trying to be the best they can so they can be the next vampire spawn. It also makes me wonder, why doesn't Cazador just turn these people into spawn? Is he afraid to scare staff away when they vanish because they begged at Cazadors door for vampirism? How on earth did they find this out? What on earth is Cazadors title to these people, is he a lord even if the public doesn't know he's a vampire lord?

All the text in Cazadors Palace Explained, and rooms explained

[ALL THE TEXT FOUND IN CAZADORS PALACE]

Chamberlain Dufey

In the Chaimberlain's private quarters, we find Chamberlain Dufey’s dead body in a casket. The Chamberlain is responsible for managing the household of nobles, so Dufey would have managed the household for Cazador. It's suggested by a private note left by Dufey’s Werewolf GF that he killed himself via poison, and so she Romeo and Juliet herself and killed herself as well.

You can find his diary on the bed on the floor, and we find out that Dufey killed himself because he found out about Cazador's ritual, because Cazador wanted Dufey to be the stand-in for the missing Asterion. He even calls Astarion a brat! Ironically enough, his poison is just enough to slow his heart and he isn’t actually dead, so his lover found him and killed herself in return. True poetry. Dufey hopes that once Cazador ascends, he can leave since Cazador won’t need his management anymore. This suggests that Dufey is a prisoner in one way or another. He is, a vampire spawn interestingly enough.

Godey

Cazador would throw the spawn into a ‘kennel’ when he was displeased with the vampire spawn. This is hidden by an illusion, that Astarion claims is one of his regular, cheap tricks.

Godey is a pair of bones that is under Cazador's control. He claims to be doing his job and to ‘keep him(astarion) in line.” He apparently tortured the spawn for days at a time, and Godey seemed to enjoy the screaming.

Spawn sleeping quarters

The vampire spawn seemed to live in a ‘dormitory style’ living, inside the dormitory wing. He has two rooms, “spawn dormitory” and “favorite spawn”

You can find Violet's diary, where she says the ‘garlic in Yousen's bed gave him a nasty rash’ which signals that vampires can’t handle garlic. It also shows that Violet is a little shit and makes life hell for the other spawn… a true sibling. Leon has a daughter named Victoria, but Cazador seems to ‘have a little plan for her.’

There is also a blood ledger from Dufey, who states the rules of what type of people Cazador wants to be picked up. Most notably, to focus on the lower class. He chastises them for picking up three people from wealthy families because their families of course are wondering where the as fuck they went. The goal is not to attract unwanted attention and to avoid aristocrats, even if they are out slumming in the lower city.

Favorite Spawn

The ‘favored spawn’ room is a lot more grand, with nice beds that don’t stack on a bunk bed. I wonder if Astarion was a bottom or top bunk?

It turns out when looking at the favorited spawn list, it mostly is Leon, with Violet taking only one year. When you read Leon's diary though, we find out he’s working so hard because he has a daughter named Victoria. Leon writes, “I've had to be his best hunter just so I could stay here with my daughter and keep her away from the other spawn. I don’t like the way Violet looks at her, not at all!”

So it seems that Cazador let the other spawn family stay with them unless Victoria is an outlier… But while they are ‘siblings’, they still do not get along. Either that or Violet is just a bitch. That being said, Leon also writes, “When I ask the master what he plans to do with Victoria, Cazador just gives me that wicked smile.” He writes that he is working together on a plan to disguise Victoria so she can escape. She’s a human girl running around, and her father even writes her a note to learn the ancient language book that is in the guest room so she can move around freely in the mansion. This means there was a KID running around the palace. A HUMAN KID.

You can also find a list that Victoria made, which seems focused on the number '17' for some reason.

What I’m gathering is, that Cazador is wicked and sick- of course, we knew that. But poor Leon, protecting his daughter? All of this is to say- Victoria is dead in the guest room. She’s covered by necrotic magic.

Astarion claims he has brought people to this guest room before.

Dalyria

In the guest room, we get to find Dalyria’s diary. It claims she was a Doctor, and Physician General to the Parliment of Baldur Gate. She claims she will always be a Doctor, despite what Cazador did to her.

She says that a “massive infusion of fresh, youthful blood may overwhelm the vampirism infection and enable my body to heal” and points out that Victoria is the pureblooded daughter of Leon. This seems to indicate that she thinks that vampirism is a blood-affected thing, and can be cured one way or another.

Leon was apparently a sorcerer before he became spawn, and warned everyone to not bite her since he booby-trapper her blood in case of an attack. So… considering she is letting out necrotic energy, I assume that Dalyria tried to bite her because she assumed Leon was lying.

When you try to Speak with Dead on her, it seems her answers don’t line up too well with the actual journal entries. She says that Dalyria lured her with the promise of food and shelter and she was bit by her, and then Dal was dragged away by Cazador, and Victoria was eventually killed by him.

A question I have is, with a daughter so young, and Leon has been on the favorite spawn list for so many years, did he have this kid when he was a vampire? She looks like she’s only 10 or younger, so he either had to have her at the Palace when she was a baby or he somehow got someone pregnant.

The Ballroom

When you enter the ballroom, the people on the floor are called guests. So I can assume there was some party, and then the werewolves were called to rip everyone up. On the body of a woman named Sanseverina, she’s carrying a note that says. *“Sansy, I've been invited to a party at the Szarr Palace tonight in their ballroom. Show the chamberlain at the door this note and he’ll let you in to join me. Wear your best dress!” - Callira (*Sansy was not indeed, wearing a dress at all.)

Callira can be found in what I assume is the cigar room dead on the floor. She holds a note from Dufay that she is requested by Cazador to play music at the party.

Using "Speak to Dead" on one of the dead party members on the floor, we find out that one of them is named "Sterlac", a Senior Clerk in the Counting House. He was invited to the party, and claims he was enjoying the party, drinking and talking. When you ask him what he was talking about, he says,

"Work… Counting House… Who controls what. Wanted names of senior staff… families… any scandals, secrets…"

He also says that at the party, the guests were politicians, minor nobles, fist officers, 'all sorts'. Cazador wanted information, he apparently asked them all a lot of questions about the power structures in the city, the weaknesses, and the type of people Cazador should look at controlling.

Cazador apparently took the most beautiful people away from the party, and they were never seen again. According to Sterlac, after Cazador left, werewolves came to the party and made the guests their little afternoon snack. From what I can gather, it does seem that Cazador has his foot in the door pretty heavily in politics, if he's using clerks for their information about staff and…. scandals.

I'm assuming this random attack of wolves is in reference to the 'grand feast' Dufay writes about in his party planner diary you'll find in Cazador's office.

What my takeaway is, that people in political power, at least of use to Cazador, know he is a vampire. But it isn't generally common knowledge, even when Tav comments on the vampire-filled manor, and Astarion jokes back that its "subtle, isn't it?"

Dufay also orders the guards on the wall to make sure they're vigilant and that the staff are silent and never speak. This shows that Cazador’s reach goes all the way to the guards. Dufay does note that “If you encounter the mater, stand still and cast down your eyes with dereference. The master likes to be respected.”

Oh. and no whistling, of course.

What is the puzzle under Cazadors Palace?

The puzzle under Cazador Palace can be entered via the cigar room. Me, and so many people have concluded this is simply an unfinished room since I tried to do just about everything to get this to work.

I back my theory up because this is the only location in Cazadors Palace that isn't marked as dangerous and allows the player to long rest and travel by waypoint etc.

Venturing further, we can find a confession from one of Cazador's captives, where they confess their transgressions. This is from someone named Dawson Kiltmaker, who claims they cheated on the city accountants' certification test. Since Dawson suspects he is going to die, he is using the journal to rid himself of sins so he can die with his soul a little lighter. He also claims that Cazador gloats, so it's confirmed that Cazador at least, fucks with the prisoners mentally. There are a lot of dead bodies so it can be assumed sometimes, Cazador just keeps people / kills them instead of turning them.

Cazadors Office Area / Family / Attic

Cazador's office is directly linked to the ballroom named the “Office Hall”

There’s a party planner on the desk that Dufay used to plan Cazador's gatherings. The ballroom functions are divided into two categories - Invited guests and involuntary guests, which are the entertainment for the latter category being considerably more sinister than the former.

So what I can assume is … There are other vampires invited or others invited of different types of morality that use or torture the second category? Thats wild. Cazedor also planned a ‘final feast’ that Dufey had to organize, which involved invited and involuntary guests…

Cazadors desk has Starbrt Shandy, a Carafe of wine, and Cagulated blood. He also seems to keep up with the news since articles are on his desk and a book about Baldur City's history. Cazador's entire office is just… blood and wine. Dude parties non fucking stop. There is also a book on the upper city and the lower city.

The Dais is the elevator down into the dungeon, Astarion had no idea it was there. He said Cazador brought his victims there, so it can be assumed that Astartion at least dragged the person to Cazador's office before they were brought to the second room down the elevator… Imagine how scary that would be.

There's a bust of Shyressa Runemaster as well, a vampire in 1360 DR. It should be noted, there's so many bottles of wine in this fucking estate. Does NOBODY drink water???

Cazador's Niece

In the attic, we actually get entries from Cazador's family from the year 1477. Amanita Szarr, Cazadors ‘niece’ claims she didn’t know that Cazador was a vampire. She claims she had no idea that her family were vampires, so it confirms that the Szarr family at least has some nonvampires and a long line of vampires.

She grew up on the country estate near Anga Vled was raised by servants, and hardly ever visited the city palace in Baldurs Gate. It noted she hated visiting, and that the Palace straddles the wall between the Upper and Lower City. In the year 1477 when she was 13, Cazador personally summoned her, and she was brought by carriage. Dufey greets her and brings her to the ballroom, and It is here that Cazador forcibly turns her into a vampire in the torture room above the ballroom. She was imprisoned in the attic by someone named Bolvart for trying to resist being a vampire, and she eventually succumbed and drank human blood. They kept her in the attic starving for an entire year and eventually sent up a bound captive, which she killed. So Amanita decided to stay up in the attic for the rest of her life calling herself Lady Incognita.

Amanita later wrote a book describing blood diseases claiming that there is something that can infect vampires with a brief illness. It's called “Red Thrombosis and Thandals Paroxsym”. Vampires should be able to recognize this before they even bite people if they are trained. Do you hear that, Astarion lovers? It's time to write Astarion is sick fanfiction. Or.. maybe, Cazador is fucking ill and everyone points and laughs.

So even those who survived the Szarr massacre still get hunted down by Cazador to become vampires it seems. Cazador leaves no stone unturned, but it makes me wonder how many other surviving members there had to have been. Obviously, Cazador has siblings if he has a niece.

Cazadors Corner

Going down into Cazador’s dungeon, there is a list with thousands of names from Baldur City, which can be assumed the sibling's victims.

There is Cazador's journal, which records the movements and actions of his spawn. He seems REALLY interested in Astarions, noting his every order, failure, and punishment.

He says, “Astarion failed to return from his hunt this night. Godey Informed. He will have the pliers ready when the boy shows himself again.”

Cazador starts to say how upset he is that Astarion is missing and that he wants to make Astarion scream. So then, Cazador starts to torture his siblings to find Astarion since he’s been missing for days. He then notes that when Astarion interacts with his siblings in Wyrms Crossing, Astarion is able to stand in the sunlight and bolds that he’s able to disobey Cazador. Dude is fucking upset writing in his diary. This obviously won't appear if you don't ever interact with Pale Petras and Dal.

In another book, Cazador writes about how he’s concerned about Lord Gortash because of his new steel watch, wondering if they’d mess with his vampire spawn and how he operates….

Cazador has a letter he writes to Mrel Alkam, who I suppose leads their own vampire circle in another region called “Athkatla” which is apparently more homogeneous than Baldurs Gate. He tells Alkam to enjoy his success while he has it because he plans to surpass him. He also says that he’s been long content with being a major city’s vampire lord. This signals that Cazador is not the only vampire lord out there, of course, but he’s feeling inferior.

Cazador essentially is writing this hatemail like, You might think you’re so cool and special with your vampires, but just you wait, I'm about to become cooler AND more popular. (For the record, Cazador slept in a twin-sized bed, so he was getting NO bitches.)

Looking into Athkatla further, we can find that this is the "City of Coin" , a location in BG2. There is a whole vampire coven in Athkatla, which players are able to interact with in BG2.

Under Cazadors corner, you can also find a scroll written by Lady Incognita that it was Donnela Szarr, Vellioth's original Vampire master, explaining how she was the one that opened the halls that Cazador uses as his dungeon. Apparently, they were built by mining dwarves who were exiles from Bhaerynden and seemed to be more of an outpost abandoned with time. Donnela questions, what was being mined here? It's questioned by Lady Incognita that it's unusual the halls were never discovered under Baldur's Gate, and they could have been deliberately hidden.

Cazadors previous vampire master, Vellioth

Vellioth - A skull with a scroll clamped in its teeth. This is Cazador's previous master, a cruel man.

His first lesson: “Is to always dominate. Allow none to be your equal.”

“Vellioth recalls when Cazador reached out to a former friend. His punishment was to watch as Vellioth drained his friend dry.”

His second lesson: “Power comes from solitude. To share with others is to be weak, and to be weak is to fail… and die.”

"Vellioth recalls when Cazador rebelled against him. Cazador suffered eleven years of impalement… because he failed."

(For the record, this is fucking horrific. It's such a hard juxtaposition AND parallel between him and Astarion.)

His third lesson: “Act not in haste. A near immortal has time to plan, time to act when others will pay the price of action.”

“Vellioth recalls Cazador, his lesson learned, killing him in the Rite of Perfect Slaughter. How they both laughed! Vellioth recalls Cazador boiling the flesh from his skull and then, to mock him, clamping his Schooling Scroll in Vellioth's jaws.”

(I couldn't find any information about the Rite of Perfect Slaughter)

Vellioth

As for Vellioth, he is known as Vellioth the Martinet. A Martinet is a strict disciplinarian, especially in the armed forces. He ruled from 1204 - 1276(72 years). A lot shorter run than most, but overall rather average considering. Vellioth’s master was Donnela Szarr the Architect, which makes me wonder if Vellioth was actually his family. There are only two Szarr names on the list of vampire lords, including Cazador and Donnela.

Here are the recent 5 stats:

Cazador Szarr - 216 years

Vellioth - 72 years

Donnela Szarr - 66 years

Hideous Gathwycke - 119 years

Failbleur the Fleeting - 0 years

The average amount of years in Cazador's recent 5 history of Vampire Lords is about 94.6 hours, with Cazador holding the highest number. When calculating the numbers for all listed, the average is 80 years, with Cazador taking the gold medal for longest in ruling.

My general opinion on why Cazador is most obsessed with Astarion is not only looks, but because I wonder if he also sees himself in Astarion- Cazador rebelled and pulled against Vellioth, so maybe he punished Astarion as Vellioth punished him for being bad.

Astarion will note that Cazador can’t be original for once and stole his own rules from Vellioth.

I think it's really interesting to see this side of the story, because when you ascend Astarion it feels like he kind of becomes the next Cazador, and this shows that Cazador was also in the same vicious cycle of abuse. Not that anything Cazador did was ever acceptable, but it's an interesting angle.

You do have choices to break this cycle or continue it. If you convince Astarion to not go through with it, he will thank you for believing in him.

On letting Astarion Ascend, he will sadly continue the cycle of abuse it kind of feels, not letting you break up with him at the end of the game. He laughs and calls you stupid, and says,

“You’re mine, remember?”

It's a sad reminder- Cazador is a cruel, vicious, and unredeemable person, but was also once a person, likely with some sort of light in his eyes… only to be shut down by abuse from his master, which makes his character so interesting.

Astarions Victims

From the four older captives that Astarion has brought, there is Sebastian, Wensleydale, Hapdim, and Gondlemead. Only Sebastion can speak. For…. research purposes, they do not react to being attacked.

For the children, it seems Cazador specifically ordered Astarion to capture them. This can only be assumed because they are the children of the Gur. When you kill Cazador, before leaving, you'll be confronted by Ulma, a leader of the Gur tribe. They are upset that Astarion stole their children, but seeked Astarion out when they find out he fled and somehow betrayed Cazador in hopes they could recruit Astartion.

There also does seem to be a back entrance to the dungeon from the sewer. Who knows how often that was used since there is a scene with a girl who was meeting up with a ‘silver-haired’ man who told her there was going to be a party when you reach Act 3.

Why didn't Astarion bite Cazador?

I wish I had a good theory for this, but I really don't. So, the only thing I have that could be something is Astarion mentions:

"In theory, the next step is to drink their blood. Once you've done that, you're free and a true vampire."

But he follows up by saying that it doesn't happen because vampires are the true natural enemies of another vampire. I read something someone said that maybe the vampire has to be willing to let the spawn bite him, but that doesn't make sense since Cazador didn't seem all that willing to be stabbed to death. If the tadpole can protect him from Cazador's grip, it should be able to allow him to bypass that stipulation.

So, at the end of the day, I think we can assume this is some plot hole. Either that or Astarion is thinking about it the next day after he rejected ascension and realizes, 'Wait fuck!'

My questions about Cazador…

I would love to know more about his Palace and why it was built/bought in such a weird spot?

How long Cazador has been a vampire?

Do the citizens of Baldur City know Cazador is a vampire lord? Or is it, if you know you know?

How long ago was the Szarr family massacred, and how many really survived? What was his family like?

How did Cazador meet Vellioth?

What is his fucking problem with Astarion?

What is his title? Is he referred to as 'my lord'?

Is he seen as a Patron to his spawn by the public?

What was the most surprising fact you learned?

#BG3 #Astarion #Cazador #Cazador Szarr #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #Baldurs Gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #i made this for all my vampire lovers and fanfiction writers #<3 #i hate that my friends now call me cazador girl #my bg3 posts

568 notes · View notes

rosedom · 19 days

Text

"in an open match, 【 🦢 】 has invited KAVEH to play . . . a swan's song: the rhythm of rebirth

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!gn!reader, sub!ftm!kaveh, mentions of alhaitham (you are a throuple), cunnilingus, subspace, semi-public (no getting caught), gentleness + praise + a lot of assurance .

A/N : no ask attached due to it being a thread over the course of multiple asks . . . dt my sweet swan anon <3

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Kaveh said goodbye to his mother, all those years ago. He stood beside the lighthouse—the very lighthouse he designed, all it’s petaled curves and swooping lines—, and he waves until the silhouette disappeared on the horizon. She, in all senses, became swallowed up in the fog of the winding river. He had half a mind to stroll with her, to run, to try and keep pace with the slim boat as it traveled the water, up ‘til it’d reach the falls, ‘til his dearest mother would need to take to land to reach the second harbor of Sumeru.

He wanted to chase her, but he did not. (She wishes she smiled to her boy, that first night she left.

Her boy, who she loves so, so dearly; but who chains her to a past full of only pain.

She loves her boy, and her boy loves her. It is in this love that he tells her to leave.)

Now, Kaveh visits his mother once a year—twice, on special occasions. He brings Alhaitham, on some; he brings you on others. Rarely does he bring the both of you. (He is scared that it would be asking too much.) And Fontaine is beautiful, really, and he loves seeing his mother’s designs dispersed in the streets of the court. And through it all, he tells himself that he does not miss her.

Telling—saying—, however, is easier than believing.

He visits that lighthouse every month, right down in Port Ormos. It’s tradition, seeing the beacon in the sky—the beacon that became the last tether he had of family in Sumeru, where he was born, raised, and where he will die.

It's sad, in a way, that the remnants Kaveh will leave in Sumeru are of a building: a cold, heartless building. He wishes he could leave himself.

(He misses his mother, but he says he does not. This lighthouse is a testament to that fact.)

Tonight is the fifth of May, and tonight Kaveh sits in the silence of a Port Ormos’ night. The lighthouse sits far into the bay, granting him true solitude, a loneliness to match that which seems to haunt him. Pharos’ beacon of light extends through the cold mist, and the bugs which it illuminates are his only companion, here.

Until you come along, that is. (Alhaitham is not here, tonight. You told him to stay home.

After all, if Kaveh is so hesitant to invite you both to Fontaine, perhaps he fears something of the two of you together. You don't want to risk that, here.)

“Thought I'd find you here,” you murmur, steps awfully loud in the quiet. The wooden boards creak beneath your feet before you step onto the stone that surrounds the lighthouse.

Kaveh’s face blends into the darkness, but his eyes do not; and you see them, wide and shimmering, the wet sclera catching on the errant rays from the beacon behind him. He does not say anything, but he lifts a hand for you to take.

His hand, calloused, slips easily into your own, your fingers lacing with his. Even the crooked jut to his pinkie fits perfectly against your own phalanges, the two of you cut from the same clay the archons molded either of you with. You stroke along the back of his hand, thumb gentle in its motions as you take a seat on the hard stone that lines the ground around the lighthouse. Like this, his and your back are pressed against the slate that builds the gate’s wall, the gentle eave blotting out parts of the sky when you gaze upwards towards the moon.

It’s silent, for a while.

Until it’s not. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Kaveh asks, voice meak.

You don’t know what he’s referring to, but you say, “Yes,” anyway.

He shakily sighs. “I worked so hard,” he continues, empty hand dragging along the intricate patterns etched into the stone that makes up the grandiose arch, “and she still left.” (It’s a testament to how long he's been out here, alone, ruminating in his thoughts, the way he lets himself be vulnerable so easily.) Another sniffling sound escapes him, and he’s quick to let go of your hand to cover his mouth. Through his fingers, he says, tries so desperately to convince, “I mean, I—I’m glad she left, she deserves it; but why don’t I?

“Why don’t I get to start over, like she does?”

You pull him into your arms then. Even as he makes like he’s going to pull away—like he doesn’t want your comfort—, he turns into it all the same, burying himself into your shoulder as his arms come to clutch desperately at your back. Softly cooing, you hold him tight, hands making grand sweeping motions across the expanse of his back.

“Because you worked so hard,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to his hairline. “You have made a name for yourself, Kaveh: not many people can say that about themselves.”

“‘m only got some stupid moniker.”

At that, you laugh. “Yeah, ‘Light of Kshahrewar’ is pretty stupid; it hardly highlights your accomplishments.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I know,” you say, curt, even as you keep your lips pressed softly to his forehead.

You only continue once he sniffs, a single time, loud and stark.

“You could leave at any time you wanted,” you say, “and you know that—but you stay anyway. You stay, and you persevere. You are the strongest man I know—” at this, Kaveh’s chest hiccups in a barely-contained sob. You only squeeze him harder. “I am so proud of you, y’know.”

“But—” he shakes his head vehemently against you, hands clutching, pulling, at the front of your shirt, “—but why? I’m nothing special.”

“Nothing special? Kaveh.” You pull him out from your neck, cupping his face in your broad palms. Even as tears slip down his cheeks, he nuzzles into you, eyes fluttering shut. “You are everything to me and Haitham.”

At the mention of the other boyfriend, Kaveh wetly laughs. “He told you to say that, didn't he?”

You only coo again. “Maybe,” you acquiesce, “but he only told me how to say it. What I’m saying is genuine, lion.” The nickname fits, when he blinks open those lion eyes of his, ruby irises managing to shine even in the pitch of night. But then, quietly, you ask, “Do you really want to start over?”

Kaveh is silent for a moment; and then he slowly, oh-so slowly, shakes his head, side to side, right there in the palms of your hands.

“You’re not your mother, Kaveh, and you're not chained down to her. You're your own man, and we are so, so proud of you for who you have become. In spite of everything bad that has happened to you, you have remained the sun in mine and Haitham’s sky.”

He reaches a hand up to wipe his own tears but you softly bat it away, using your own thumbs to catch the errant saltwater that drips. His eyes have gone hazy, far-off and far in thought.

(For Kaveh to be so—so silent, is jarring.)

Trying to reel him back in, you lean forward and gently kiss the swell of his right cheek. “Kaveh,” you murmur, “do you understand me?”

Slowly, he nods.

“Can you repeat what I said, then?”

His eyes go wide, and he shakes his head.

You shake your head right back at him. “Yes, you can, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

All it takes is one word.

It takes one word, and it’s easy, pulling Kaveh under. He admitted to you and Haitham, all those months ago, how, when he submits, his brain becomes cotton-filled, mind pleasantly quiet. It’s how he comes down from stress, and, well—he’s pretty damned stressed, here.

But, “We’re—we’re in public,” he mutters, shaky, even as you can see the reflection of the moon brightening in those growing pupils, even as his legs begin to spread.

“Nobody’s around, sweet thing, and nobody will come around ‘til tomorrow morning.”

His eyes, wide as a pup’s for all the lion that he is, jump across your face, searching for something; and then, suddenly, he falls backwards and catches himself, stands up ‘til he’s looking down at you. “I—I don’t have lube!”

He doesn't have lube, and he’s worried, he thinks he’s going to be pleasing you. (He should know, by now, that your own arousal is your least concern.

Sure: old habits die hard, but still.

Silly boy.)

“Sweetheart,” you murmur, hands coming to take hold of his hips. You move to your knees, lean forward until you can lay a soft kiss to his clothed navel. “We don't need lube for me to suck you off, now do we?” (You’ve learned your tease from Alhaitham. He rubs off on you, and you on him; the two of you a perfect push n’ pull, an edge to an overstimulation, a bad cop to a good cop. You and him make up the stars and the moon and Kaveh the sun.

Alhaitham is his mirror, and you are the frame around its glass all the same.)

The light of the moon falls on the bob of his throat as he swallows heavily. Eventually, he mutters a soft, choked-out “no” that’s more whine than word.

You hum, nosing at his hip, now, even as his legs begin to tremble beneath him.

“The—” his breath cuts into a sharp whimper when you take away the fabric that spills from beneath his belt—the long, hanging cloth covering between his thighs—in order to mouth over the swell of his mound.

It’s a rather ridiculous spectacle that you put on, but, while nobody is around, you're still in the open far too much for you to want to strip him down in, anyways. The bare sight is for your (and, had he been here, tonight, Alhaitham’s) eyes only—not even the moon is privy to the view.

You decide, then, that you need to move him; but you need to hear what he wants to say, first. “The what, sweet thing?” You encourage him with your lips, speaking against the seam of his pants, a whisper of the pleasure you can give him.

“The boxes,” he chokes out, hands coming to brace themselves on your shoulders. “There—there’s boxes just inside.”

You coo, “Smart boy,” sucking once, harsh, at where you know his cock lies, hard and swollen just beyond the thin fabric separating you. You’re quick to stand up, after, arms curling under Kaveh’s thighs to pick him up.

He yelps your name, body curving over your head. “Stop acting like Haitham!” he whines, voice still meak from crying, voice still airy from the headspace he’s fast sinking into. (He’s not in the mood for a tease, you see.)

He's dangerously light as you carry him inside the gate, under the awning, right on ‘til you set him down gentle on the boxes that surround the lighthouse. He squirms when he's sat, blinking up at you slow n’ soft, trusting like that pup, and you find yourself drawn in, leaning down enough for your lips to brush his, to settle warm hands on his hips instead and press him into the wooden lid of the box.

Though his tongue peaks out, anticipating your messy kisses, you merely chuckle against his lips, once, leaving a soft peck on his pout as you ask, “Can I suck you off now, sweetheart?”

He nods, this slow—almost lethargic—up n’ down that disrupts the flow of his hair, smears his bangs into the wet on the apples of his cheeks. Old tears and, now, fog, is already beginning to blur his eyes, cotton filling his brain, and it’s so, so beautiful—seeing the way Kaveh submits to you and finds bliss in it never fails to amaze you. “Please,” he adds, just for good measure, the good boy he is.

You say so, a gentle, “Good boy,” that forces a soft hitch of his breath.

The stone is cooler, here, without so much as a scrap of the moon’s light to illuminate it. It seeps into your skin as you kneel, even through the cloth of your pants, but you pay it no mind; the warmth of Kaveh’s thighs settling around your shoulders squanders any uncomfy feelings.

As you nose back into the apex of those thighs, the skin still radiating that same heat as it did earlier, the fabric still slick with your saliva. You’re grateful for these pants, far less formal than the ones he typically dons, simply because of the loose zipper at its seam. The zipper is loud when you pull it down—but quiet in comparison to Kaveh’s desperate whinin’, “C’mon...”

“I’m goin’,” you say, hot breath fanning over his slicked up boxers. You grin, coy, at the way the seat of them are sticky-wet. His hips lift into you, and you slide a hand beneath either leg, bottom-up... and tug.

“H-hey!” (Even in subspace, Kaveh finds the wherewithal to gripe.

How adorable, really.)

“I have a spare,” is all you say—and you’re not lying. You have another pair of boxers stuffed in your pocket, inconspicuous but revealing your motives entirely. Kaveh’s got hardly the time to mull over the idea, though, half-muddled up as he is, and especially-so when you put your mouth right on the hot jut of his cock. He positively yelps at that, hips jumping enough that you need to press him back down into the box, hold him tight by his hips to keep him there. “Stay,” you murmur, then: “You can put your hands in my hair, okay?”

Tentatively, his fingers come and wrap themselves in your hair. He treats you so gently, so adoringly, even as he’s slicking up your lips with nothing but a soft lick. “There you go,” you continue, leaning further down to tongue below his cock, between his puffy labia, “jus’ like that.” The vibrations from your voice make him arch, but his hands stay perfectly put; they neither pull nor twist, simply there, grounding himself as his mind seems to get lost in that delicate headspace of his, witnessed by nobody but you. (You meant it, earlier, when you said that not even the moon would gaze upon Kaveh’s unraveling; she lays hidden beneath a dusting of clouds, an approaching storm shielding her eyes from the absolute debauchery happening under her waning light.)

Now, you’re not a scholar: hardly such. You don’t have the eye for beauty that your sweet Kaveh has (apparent in the way Kaveh insists he be the one to decorate the home with.

It seems Haitham isn’t the only one with a bad eye in the relationship.)

However, you don’t need to be a scholar to know how absolutely enthralling Kaveh is. From the way he looks—the cute cunt you’ve got your face shoved in, the chubby cock you’re tonguing at—to his sounds, his actions... you may cum in your own pants, you realize, at nothing but the taste of him on your tongue.

“You—mm—” you try to speak, your sentence cut up in a moan, Kaveh’s cock pressed to your lips, “—you taste divine, sweet thing, the absolute sweetest...” For the scholar you claim not to be, you sure are well-versed in lathering him up in praise.

At the lack of response—that is, lack of a legible one—, you look up your eyelashes and are met with a sight that makes you throb: Kaveh, gazing down at you, watching you, looking at you suck him off, eat him out.

Subspace always makes him like this. He’s floaty, sure, but simultaneously honed in, in an odd juxtaposition that makes heat swirl in your belly and sends your tender heart aching in your chest. For all the cotton stuffed in his mind, all the fog covering his lion eyes—he’s watching you, aware only of you and the pleasure you give him.

Each new breathless plea makes you speed up, makes you slide your tongue under the hot jut of his cock and point it, drawing soft but hard circles on where he’s most sensitive. He whines, entirely nonverbal, now, wholly lost to that which threatens to swallow him up—you.

“Close?” you ask, muffled into his slick n’ spit slick cunt, the lewd mix of liquid absolutely slathered across your face, leaking down to his untouched ass. Teasing, you lick at his perineum before returning back to his cock, working fast and efficiently, just the way he likes, desperate to feel him unravel above you.

He nods, vehement, thighs threatening to close had you not held steadfast to them. He’s squirming up a storm—not so dissimilar to the storm you know is coming, the storm that shields you from the moon’s gaze—, sweet moans and whimpers alike falling from his lips unbidden. It’s beautiful—the taste, the sight, the everything, all that which screams, simply, Kaveh, Kaveh, Kaveh.

Something else screams, too.

“Cumm’n!” Kaveh cries, voice loud. His voice is entirely wrecked, but you pay it no mind; after all, why wouldn’t it be, after so long of nothing but whines tearing at his throat? You bask in his cry, the way his cock pulses heavily above your tongue. At the smear of slick you feel against your chin—which, you notice now, is nudging at his perineum, at his leaking hole, too—, you nuzzle down, giving his cock a welcome reprieve and allowing his cum to dribble into your open mouth.

It’s quiet, after that, save for the lap of harsher waves in the distance. The storm is rolling in as Kaveh sinks back, hands falling limply from your hair. You stand up slowly, massaging his thighs as you rise above him to kiss him gently, to lick into his mouth and spread the sweet taste of his cum between your lips.

He’s slow n’ sweet, now, silent but breathless as his eyes are still welled up wet. You thumb away the tears, his long eyelashes clumped together, noses pressed together. You bask in the gentle silence as you tend to Kaveh; first, using a torn piece of cloth to mop up the mess between his thighs, then getting him in that spare bare of boxers you have. It’s a tussle, getting a spacey (hah) Kaveh to step out of his torn underclothes and his pants only to force him right back in—with a new pair, of course, but the same ol’ pants—, but it’s worth it in the end, when you can get an arm beneath his knees and one supporting his back, carrying him like a bride.

(A bride, huh?

... What a thought.)

“Let’s get you home now, yeah?” You kiss at Kaveh’s temple, even as he buries his face into your throat and hums, still floating, still quiet. “Hayi’s waitin’ on us, and the rain’ll start soon.”

Kaveh nods softly at that, kissing your throat once before his breath evens out, and he’s out like a light. The light of Kshahrewar, snuffed out in a doze—the only way your light should ever be dimmed.

The next time he visits Fontaine, he brings you and Alhaitham, together.

when i said i can't imagine kaveh without haitham, i meant it. i hope that this lil' addition was okay . . . threesome with the two guys when? also, it would be a whole day's trip to get between sumeru city and port ormos, but this is video game logic, and i don't give a fuck. having your boyfriend in ur arms and ur other boyfriend waiting at home with a warm meal can make a guy defy the laws of physics smh. also, i went less heavy on the aftercare, but it's definitely there ! kaveh will be getting pampered when he gets home to you and haitham, where you can spoil him together<33

8 MAY 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#【 🦢 】#i'm so into boys who r so deep in pleasure that they go nonverbal !!#gn reader #gender neutral reader #dom reader #sub kaveh #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #not gonna tag haitham but ! he's mentioned a lot .#sub character #sub male character #i wonder if these tags r any good . . .

273 notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 3 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 54 (12.1)

part 1 | part 53 | ao3

cw: angst

Chapter 12

Steve drives to Chicago.

He wakes up to an empty bed and a sticky note by the kitchen phone, words scribbled over so the only legible thing left is the word sorry underlined in jagged black, and his breath sticks in his chest and he can't be here anymore. Epiphany ringing like a gong, sending ripples through his marrow, because the walls are closing in and Eddie decorated those walls — splattered himself over every inch of this place, and now he's just the newest haunt in a line of ghosts that Steve can't shake. He thought he’d gotten rid of them, but now he hears them louder than ever. In the hiss of the faucet, in the buzz of the fridge; they’re moaning in his bad ear and rattling his bones, and he can't be here alone with them he can't be here he can't—

So he drives.

Gets in his car with nothing but a spare jacket and a crumpled pack of cigs. If ever there was a time to pick the habit up in earnest. Eddie’s van is gone, and Steve’s heart is bruised; it's bleeding out inside him, pumping fresh hurt with every beat, so he lights a cigarette with shaking hands and heads north. Takes the back roads to the on-ramp of I-65, drives for hours; drives for years, speeding down empty stretches of highway with nothing but roadkill for company.

At some point he rolls the windows down until the icy wind makes his cheeks burn, but he can't really feel them. Can't feel his face, or his fingers, or his heart.

All the world is snow and asphalt, and Steve Harrington is alone.

He tries to drown it out with music. The radio mocks him with swooning quartets love songs — 'put your head on my shoulder' and 'life could be a dream' — and all the tapes he can reach belong to Eddie, so he pulls over on the narrow shoulder of an overpass bridge and screams and screams and screams while he chucks the cassettes over the edge.

Fuck Eddie.

Fuck him.

"FUCK YOU!!" he shouts to the foggy nothingness.

The words dig in sharp; pocket knife twisting in the space below his kidneys.

The fog doesn't respond.

Back in the car, his thoughts turn to his mom. Because he's driving to her, he knows — knew it in his splintering bones and haunted blood the moment he left town. He's driving back to his first ghost, as if confronting the original will somehow exorcise the rest.

Miles pass in silence, and Steve paints over the canvas of what-ifs again and again, oily streaks in the underpainting as he tries to set the scenes just right: quiet, tearful confrontations in his aunt's formal living room, graceless screaming matches out on the front lawn. In one version he never makes it past the guard at the front gate, and in another he just eggs the stupid lion statues leading up to the house while his mom silently weeps from the top of the stairs.

He doesn't know if his mom would laugh at that.

He doesn't know her much at all.

And that fucking hurts; that sits like acid in his lungs, because his mom was his first friend. When he was little — before the housekeepers and nannies, before his mom started tailing his dad on business trips like a trained dog on a leash — they spent so much time together. Trips to the playground, to the library, to the pool. He'd perch himself on her vanity when she got ready in the mornings, use her hairbrush as a microphone to sing along to 50s doo-wop, and she'd giggle and call him her little superstar, so he'd come up with stupid dance moves just to make her smile more.

He misses that. The script, the routine. How he'd spin around in his socks on the slippery bathroom tile and look up at her with her big hair full of rollers and her big eyes full of stars, and he'd say, "Hey! How come your eyes are all twinkly?"

And she'd grin and pinch his cheek and give the same answer every time: "Because you're the light of my life."

"I wish I knew what you'd say now," he whispers to the empty car.

For a moment he envisions that she's sitting there with him, that she's filling the blank space where the boy who broke his heart should be, but he can't remember her cadence well enough to mimic it; can't put words in her mouth when he no longer knows her lines, and with something a bit like horror and a lot like despair it occurs to him that he can't remember what she looks like. There's an apparition in his blind spot, but it's formless and unstable. The shade of its hair keeps changing; the texture, the length.

When he tries to make it speak, it shrugs and dissipates.

—

part 55

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

258 notes · View notes

bellswlw · 1 year

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ it’s cold here without you ⇨ e. williams

ellie williams x afab!reader

wc: 6k

part 1.5 | part two | masterlist

summary: after Ellie manages to finally get you to pose for her after arriving in Jackson months ago, you two attend the winter dance and it’s then that you realize you might like ellie as more than just a friend…

cw: bff!ellie, mutual pining, jealousy, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, inexperienced reader, artist!ellie, some fluff, edging (r!receiving kinda), love confessions, making out in semi public space (???) basically grumpy x sunshine, gardener!reader —lmk if there are more tags to add pls—

a/n: this was going to be angsty and sad but then this just happened so enjoy! (please be nice this is my first public wlw post and first fic i’ve been proud of in a minute so pls, pls just don’t be mean. i’ve been so nervous to post this all week help) proofread but there’s probably still some mistakes tbh

From the moment you walked into Jacksons gates, Ellie knew something. Something so small rang in her ears. So much so it almost hurt, it made her want to wince at the sight of you like you were a walking orb of fire and you had just exploded right in front of her.

She knew when you met Shimmer for the first time, she knew in the dining hall, and at the library and the school and the church. Especially at the church. She knew she would never be able to let you go. But she knew she would have to, eventually.

You spun slowly around in Ellie’s desk chair, your head resting back as the smoke filled your lungs more and more with each rotation.

“Please. I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone else there.” you say up into the ceiling while you wait for a response. You hear the crackle of weed burning straight through Ellie’s chest before anything else.

Her voice drops a little low when she finally speaks, the smoke falling from her lips like fog rolling over a still lake. “I’m sure Dina will be there. And Jesse. And literally everyone else.” Ellie was stretched out on the futon from across the room, caring less about the stupid winter dance.

You look at her then, a little dizzy and absolutely appalled that she wouldn’t want to go and watch people get drunk and dance to No Scrubs while high out of your minds.

She was never the type for large happy gatherings, but you figured she would go if she got to sit and watch for entertainment.

“Not everyone.” you whispered to yourself with a quick raise of your eyebrow before glancing at your hands quick enough to avoid Ellie's eyes that were suddenly boring into you.

Ellie sat up; the joint now glued to her lips.

“It’s a fuckin’ winter dance. In the Church. C’mon, how fun could it really be?”

You look up. Seeing how her eyes never left your face. Like you were meeting her there, through a dirty window with the reflection of her hazily standing beside you. A window that hasn't been buffed out yet, just a little foggy. Just a little.

“Well, it would be more fun if you went with me. Please. Just for an hour? Then we can come back here and do whatever you wanna do. Even if it's just sitting around. And you can draw me… if you want to.” you added the last part in a hushed tone, like the words were timid to come out.

But you had been secretly hoping she would since you got here.

You loved watching her draw, her fingers tracing over the paper so gently, like it was skin. Almost like it was yours. You wished it was… sometimes.

She looked away from you, drawing in another drag before she rested her elbows on her knees, legs spread wide.

Ellie had been wanting to draw you since the day you got here. The shape of your hips and the slope of your neck had haunted her pages for months. Erasing and sketching them again and again from memory. She wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her up and spit her out.

She sighed, trying to gauge if you had really meant it. Your tell wasn’t working since you were already beat red from just offering yourself up.

“Fine. Let’s just do it now, while we have time to spare.” was what she said instead, swallowing back her excitement and clearing her throat.

Ellie reaches over to you, handing you the joint and gently flexes her hand in your direction to tell you to finish it.

There wasn’t much left, maybe a little more than a roach. You took it from her a little eagerly, wanting the smoke to smooth your lungs and the quickend beat in your chest caused by Ellie’s hand grazing yours.

It didn’t take very long or much for you to feel it. You were such a lightweight.

Ellie of course found it hilarious when she realized. Catching on and laughing at you from across the room when you started giggling at the word “Infectious.”

Maria had said your laugh was “infectious” in the stables and considering the circumstances, it was true. Only, this time Ellie wasn’t immune to it. She had followed suit and ducked her head over her shoulder away from you to collect herself while shimmer groaned in relief.

“It’s just so—“ you cut yourself off, burying your face in your knees while sitting on the floor against the side of Ellie’s bed frame.

The distance was necessary since you had only met a few days prior.

Ellie looked up at you, with her brows pulled together in confusion before she put two and two together.

“Wait. Are you high?” she asked with a chuckle.

The room was clouded with a thin layer of smoke, barely enough to be able to see to the naked eye.

Your eyes had shot open wide, terrified.

“You are! Holy shit, this is good.” her voice carved the words into you then, the goosebumps running through your legs until they reached your core and exploded there with millions of needles with nowhere to go. You were soaked.

Ellie hadn’t laughed that hard in a minute, with her hand flat on her stomach to try and help the coiling feeling deep in her stomach.

“That’s fucking hilarious.” she murmured, her head falling back against the futon before taking a hit so big her cheeks had funneled in.

“Shut up.”

You were bright red with embarrassment and Ellie couldn’t look you in the eye without the image burning into her mind for the next week.

You think back on it now and what took place only a few hours before, letting a dry chuckle fall from your lips and echo into the quiet of the room.

Ellie’s still for a moment, but then joins in and laughs hard enough for her body to jolt with each exhale.

“What?” her tell floats to the surface immediately as she wipes the bow above her lip nervously.

“Do… do you remember that one time–” You stifle back a small laugh with your hand, slightly doubled over in the chair and your other flat against the coffee table for support.

“What?” she asks again, an unsteady smile creeping its way in.

“When… when we were– I can’t!” you confess, letting out a burst of laughter and slowly sliding down onto the floor.

“What?!” Ellie exclaims, a laugh finally falling from her lips while her hands tense out in front of her.

“When we were in the stab… stables. And I met Shimmer? And then I was petting her ears and all of this sudden, she rips absolute ass! Do you remember that?!” you let out a laugh, deeper from within your stomach causing you to hold onto it with both hands as the giggles ate you alive.

Ellie lets the smile on her face break, and then after hearing you kick your feet against the floor she erupts too, leaning over a bit to join in.

“You got so scared!” she exclaims, which only sends you further into a fit of laughter, breathing heavily for a few seconds and then starting right back up again.

“It was… It was so loud! An– and long?!?”

Ellie eventually joins you on the floor, laughing hard enough to where a vein is popping from her neck, just noticeable enough to where if you reached your hand out to touch it, you could even feel her pulse.

She looks over at you, seeing your eyes pinched shut and your smile wider than she’s ever seen it before. It was incredible.

As your laughter subsides, your eyes find their way to Ellie’s. Watching you, of course.

“Oh,” you say with the smallest giggle attached, then letting it fall away to join the burning embers that lifted the hair off your skin.

She smiled at you, fully now with no hesitation. “Can I draw you?” she asked, not looking away once. Her voice became a little rusted, and it chipped on its way out of her throat like a stone on pavement.

You fought the urge to crack. “Sure.” you said instead, and looked away from her quickly just to pull your eyes back to her slightly parted lips.

Ellie’s smile faltered a moment, resting on her side next to you. She didn't want to get up. She wanted to keep this image of you alive inside her head for the rest of her life. She wanted to keep you forever. Obviously she knew she couldn’t. She’d fuck it up sooner or later.

“What?” you ask, gaping at her with so much love plastered on your cheeks it almost looked fake. Too saturated. Too real. Ellie had the urge to swipe the pad of her thumb across it just to see if it would smudge. She knew it wouldn’t. She just wanted an excuse.

Instead, Ellie glanced away –finally– and lifted a hand to the right side of your face, tucking a single strand of hair behind your ear gently. You froze.

“Just um, put this right here.” she whispered.

Her eyes were glued on yours. The beautiful emerald that made your heart freeze in time just jumped into a millions beats per minute with the touch of her hand alone.

Ellie’s hand was still hovering over your jaw, like she was afraid you would fade away if she let you go.

But she had to. She knew that, some part of her had to know that.

Her hand fell back at her side, and Ellie cleared her throat one more time.

“Um, stay just stay how you are. I’ll draw you just like this, yeah?” you were too stunned to speak, so you nodded once and swallowed back the butterflies that had just burst in your stomach.

“Okay.” you could hear the smile in her voice as she got up on her feet in one quick motion, leaving you to stare mindlessly at the door.

You felt like you were posing naked for her somehow, like she had stripped you clean and she would be basing her art off of you. You hated how self conscious you suddenly felt, but selfishly you loved how excited she got.

And just like that, you're burning up again, your cheeks catch the flint and light is bursting from beneath your skin.

You smother it. You act calm, and cool, and not like you are the horniest you've ever been around someone you could never have.

You don’t move a muscle when Ellie sets down pads of paper, jars of brushes, ink, parchment paper, water color, and charcoal all within a minute or two and is sitting down next to you again.

She put her hands to her mouth, unable to keep her excitement hidden. “Okay. Um. Just, uh, yeah just stay exactly how you are. Try not to move. Or laugh.” you can’t help but let the smirk sink into your face before playfully scoffing under your breath.

You followed her instructions word for word. You didn’t move. No matter how badly you had to pee. You wouldn’t move until she was done.

And so far, it felt like you had been posing for what felt like 2 hours based on how many pieces of paper Ellie had already used, and the fact that the water was completely dark with no more room for ink. Or that her fingers were coated in charcoal and it had smudged on her face as she tried relentlessly to keep the stray hair behind her ear.

But you watched her. You watched her hands dance across the paper like skin. Your skin. –on paper anyway– You noticed her tongue dipping in and out of her mouth as she concentrated on capturing the curve of your arm and the texture of your jeans that made you want to crawl out of them.

Ellie couldn't get the images of you on paper fast enough. There were so many. She had to get it absolutely perfect: the slope of your nose, your crooked hairline caused from laying on your side, the delicacy of your fingers as they rested on the curve of your hip. She had to get all of them out right now or else she would have to keep memorizing and sketching and staring.

Secretly, she wanted to keep a few for herself too. To remind herself that you were real, and that she had you at one point. Ellie only had so much ink and charcoal left, but she didn’t care, she would use it all. She would draw you a million times if it meant you would look at her like this just one more time. She would do anything… anything for you. If she just had the chance, she’d take it. Instead of running away to catch the lungs that were sprinting away from her.

But she would try, with all the power and love she's ever had. She would give it all to you, and you wouldn’t even have to ask. Ellie would give it up willingly, she would beg you to take it from her and say “I don't know what to do with it.”

“Hm?” you ask from your position on the floor. “Do with what?” and her eyes flickered towards you.

She forgot you were really there. That you weren’t another dream. That you could see her.

Ellie cleared her throat and her voice broke when she spoke again.

“Um, the drawing. It’s done. I don’t know what to do with it.” she looked at you one last time before you shot up from the floor and sat next to her.

“Can I see it?!” you said, cheery like a child who had just had their picture taken in a cardboard cutout stand.

“Yeah.”

Ellie turned the pad over to you, and just when she thought she hated it you covered your mouth with both hands and let in a sharp inhale.

You were quiet for a moment, and Ellie was still a little worried you saw right through her until you turned to look at her with tears pooling in your eyes.

“Oh, Ellie. Holy shit. This is the best one yet.”

She let herself feel a little proud then, a smile fighting its way onto her face once again. She never knew why she was always fighting it, it would happen nearly every single time.

“That’s just because I made you look so good.” and she nudged you a little.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m serious. It’s beautiful Els.” and you turned away to look back at the drawing before blinking away the tears in your eyes.

There’s a moment there, where the two of you are staring at… you. “No one’s ever drawn me before. It's weird looking at myself like this.” and you then felt Ellie’s eyes burn the side of your face, begging for you to look at her.

You tilt your head slightly, not stripping your eyes away from the page until the very last second.

Ellie was blushing. She was fucking blushing.

She looked away the second your eyes had found hers.

“Here, you can have it.” and she folded the page into your hand and held it there for a beat.

A beat too long.

The glass was clearing up, the fog dissipating into thin air at lightning speed.

You cleared your throat in hopes to silently slice the tension that was building around the two of you.

“Thanks.” you let your eyes fall to your lap. “We should uh, probably get ready.”

Ellie looks away again, patting her thighs as she exhales swiftly. “Yeah. Yeah, let's do it.”

“Come on, I don’t wanna be the last one there! It’s already started.”

You leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, actually watching Ellie fix her hair. It was pulled back into a low bun, and the layered pieces kept falling forward, not wanting to swoop back with the rest of it.

“I just, I can’t get this fucking— oh, god dammit!” she exclaimed, letting her hands fly out at her sides and grip the edge of the bathroom counter to take a breath.

“Here, let me help you.”

You took a step off the frame, pulling a pin from your hair and gently stepping up to Ellie to slide the pin into place. You must have accidentally got her scalp because she squeezed one eye shut and let a small wince escape her lips.

“Sorry.” you said, and tapped the pin to make sure it was snug.

You felt Ellie’s eyes on you from the reflection of the mirror. Of course. They were burning into you like the reflection of a magnifying glass.

Ellie’s hands grip harder on the countertop, watching your delicate fingers play with the pin. Collecting strands of her hair and then gently sweeping them behind it as gently as she can so as not to poke you again.

“Thanks.” she says instead, and lets go of the counter with a gentle push. Her hands have a red mark from her grip that when she flexes her hands, she feels her skin pull with resistance.

“Yeah.” you look away, even though you feel the warmth radiating off of her. Sending something through you.

“Okay. Let's go before we’re stuck outside. I heard they are checking for ID." There's a joke somewhere in her voice, but it gets buried by the sudden feeling of your hand twisted in yours.

“Ellie, your hand is freezing.” you say, entirely missing the joke she was trying to make and placing your other hand around hers.

She looked down to see her hand barely covered by both of yours, and she lets the feeling of your skin melt into hers like molten lava.

She was always lighting you on fire. Now, you were warming her up, meeting her halfway.

The dance was better than Ellie had expected. The room was full of people in cowboy boots and actually square dancing. Not just in the movies like she thought.

And you were smiling from ear to ear, happy to see so many people laughing and having fun while they still could. So of course Ellie was happy to be there. She fucking lived to see you smile like you were right now.

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you want anything?” Ellie said against your neck, yelling over the music.

“No! I’m gonna dance.” and she nodded, eager to let go of your hand. She didn’t want to lose you in the crowd. She didn’t want to lose you, period. But of course, she would eventually.

Your hand fell from hers as you made your way into the line dance, knocking your feet back and forth on its heel and toe while clapping your hands along to the music that was actually ‘not that bad’.

Ellie’s standing at the bar, a drink in her hand with no intention of actually drinking it. She wasn’t that big a drinker, but she wanted to keep herself busy while trying so hard not to stare at you from across the room.

It wasn't working, obviously.

She was actually glad she came, because she had never seen you this… bright. You were floating across the dancefloor like some kind of angel. She couldn’t place you. Not here anyway. You looked so out of place, with your smile wide and cheeks completely beet red from dancing, it's like you were more saturated than everyone else, like you were literally glowing.

She snaps out of it when she sees you heading over to her, a smile plastered on your face and sweat beading just above your top lip.

“Oh jeez, they weren’t kidding.” you say to her, out of breath and laughing a little.

“Who?” she asks.

“Tommy and Maria. When we were all putting the flyers up they said it would definitely be an owl here.” and you couldn’t keep it together, laughing into your hand and leaning forward into Ellie’s shoulder.

“That… was terrible.” she smirks.

She loved it.

You pull back, flexing your hands out wide at your sides before letting out a short exhale. “No, but seriously. You guys might not party very often, but when you do it gets crazy. I was drowning out there!”

“You seemed to be doing fine to me.” Ellie offered up. She was flushed.

“Oh yeah? You try going out there. It’s not as easy as it looks.” and you tilted your head playfully, emphasizing your point.

She looked down at her glass then, breaking away quick enough to avoid your eyes.

“That’s what I thought. Now, where is the bathroom?”

And Ellie took the smallest sip from her glass just before pointing to her right and bending her wrist the same direction. “Through the doors and on the right.”

You smiled at her, touching her arm with clammy hands. “Hey, dance with me when I come back?” your grasp on her was slipping away, waiting for her answer before letting go completely.

“Yeah. Sure.”

You beamed, completely unable to hide it this time. You thought you maybe didn’t have to, that you would maybe… finally… be able to clean this goddamn window for good.

You call out to her before disappearing, “Oh hey, you were right! Dina’s here!”

The second Ellie registers what you said, suddenly Dina has appeared into thin air and is dancing with someone a few feet away.

And again, a few moments later, Jesse appears from your left, a matching glass in his hand.

“She’s uh… putting on quite the show.” he says, and it's then that she looks up at her, watching as she gets dipped and the music fades out.

“I give you guys two weeks until you're back together.” and she chuckles.

“Not gonna happen.”

She looks away from him briefly, glancing into her drink that’s gone warm.

“She uh, say something to you?” Jesse asks before looking at her again.

“Make it one week.”

While Ellie’s attention is turned towards Jesse, just then Dina comes over and draws it back toward her.

“Ellie, hey!”

Jesse adjusts his posture, standing taller. It’s so obvious he wants her back.

Dina takes the drink from your hand, shooting it back and placing it on the bar behind you with a thud.

“Dina.” he says, lifting his glass, almost like he was offering it up to her.

“Jesse.” is all she says instead, eyeing him slowly.

“C’mon,” she says, and grabs Ellie’s hand.

“Wait, I was gonna–” but it's no use, because Jesse is talking over you from the bar.

“Hey! Don’t forget we're headin’ out early, so get some rest!” and before Ellie can even look back at him all the way, Dina is already talking again.

“Yes sir.”

Ellie is looking down at her feet, trying not to trip over them as Dina continues to pull her farther into the crowd of people.

“You're such a dick.” she murmured.

Dina’s hands fell easily on her shoulders moments after she placed Ellie’s on her waist.

Just then, you came out from the bathroom trying to pick through the crowd to find her, seeing the empty glass and missing spot from the bar.

You make your way over to Jesse, who you were kind of surprised to see there since he wasn’t much of a partier.

You go to ask where Ellie went, if she had somehow missed her walking into the bathroom… but the words die in your throat when you see her smack dead in the middle of the floor, with Dina rubbing her cheek against Ellie’s and a sly smile on her face.

“I hate these things.” Jesse said.

You glance over at him, noticing he was watching Ellie and Dina too.

“Tell me about it.” you say, looking back at Dina.

She has her arm wrapped around Ellie’s neck, a single hand pulling the same strand of hair that has been falling out of place all day.

The same one you pinned. The same girl who had drawn you just 2 hours ago.

The same girl… that was kissing Dina.

She… she kissed her.

Your windows shattered, shards falling to the floor like needles and with the heartbeat that had been run over and sliced clean in half.

You feel yourself wince at the sight, and before you think twice, you're up from the bar and leave through the back.

You fucking blew it.

Ellie’s hands were stuffed deep inside her pockets, walking around Jackson like a lost puppy.

She hadn’t seen you since the dance. Which to you both felt like a lot longer.

She looked for you afterward, apologizing to Dina before pulling away from her to ask if anyone had seen where you went, if anyone saw you leave with Jesse and wondering what the fuck just happened.

When you got home, the second you closed the door behind you you couldn't help but let the hot tears stream down your frosted cheeks.

You had tried so hard, so hard to let Ellie see how much of her you liked, and completely obvious you made it seem.

You posed for her. Not naked, but the act still made you think it was worth something. So much so that when you pulled her drawing from your backpocket, slightly smudged from dancing all night and when you had pulled it out on your way home contemplating throwing it away.

You shoved it under your pillow instead, climbing in bed shortly after and rocking yourself to sleep and trying to get the image of Ellie’s lips out of your mind.

Ellie showed up the next morning, knocking on your locked bedroom door.

It had scared her, how raw her voice sounded, and how at the same time it had never sounded softer than when she said “Hey, you in there?”

And when you didn’t reply, you could hear her let out a small sigh before stepping away from the door.

You pulled your covers tight over your head and shut your eyes tight with regret.

Eventually, you realized you had to get up to go to work. It was cold out, but luckily you had gotten to work in the greenhouse since it was a low leveled job and you enjoyed it. Plus the warmth helped too.

The greenhouse door was cracked open by a hair, a dead giveaway you were inside. You still never figured out how to latch it all the way closed, and it seemed to get heavier each time you went to move it.

Ellie pulled her lip to the side, nibbling nervously on the inside of her cheek. She felt so fucking stupid, letting Dina kiss her like that. Letting her dance with her. She was such a fuck up, as per usual.

She was walking around aimlessly, bored, and confused.

She didn't know what to do without you. It was so routine with the two of you.

You would meet Ellie at the stables after her patrol shift was over (which was usually in the mornings) and then you would hang out together at hers. And she would usually find you in the dining hall or the library if you were scheduled there.

But since the dance, she hadn’t known where you were, and it's like she had never been to this version of Jackson without you in it.

She had, years ago, but she could never remember what it was really like. Almost as if it didn’t really exist without you.

And just as she was about to head home, with the sun barely peeking out from behind the clouds, she spotted the multiple greenhouses. With one in particular that had a light striking a clear view of you inside.

Ellie pulled her hands from her pockets, a close lipped smile breaking on her face instantly.

She nudged the door with her body and her head barely visible to you from the other side.

But you felt her there. You didn’t know how, but you could tell she was standing outside the door before you saw her.

“Holy shit it's warm in here. Now I see why you always pick this over patrol.” and she watched as you plucked leaves from the tarragon plant.

“What are you doing?” you asked, not looking at her.

Your hands started to shake mildly, and you tried not to give into her eyes that burned a hole in your heart.

“Looking for you. I Thought I’d find you here.” she said, closing the door all the way (of course she'd be able to) and fumbled with her hands, a little nervous.

“I’m almost done here. I just need to take these clippings and a few other things.” your hands carry a tremble now, and Ellie can see it.

She takes a step closer to you, and it's unavoidable not to look at her now.

“Can we talk about last night?” Ellie asks with her hand flat against the workbench and her brows are pulled together in a frown.

“There's nothing to talk about. I just… I wanted to go home. I didn’t wanna bother you and Dina. you seemed like you were having fun.” as you tied the twine around the clippings, Ellie's hand covered yours on an exploded scale.

You turn your head, looking at her and seeing right through her.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that. Dina… was just being Dina. She didn’t mean anything by it.” Ellie's thumb started to form small circles on your skin, drawing you in, inch by inch.

Ellie took a small step toward you, her other hand reaching up and cooling the burning of your neck.

She leaned in toward you, and her lips grazed yours before kissing you softly. It was wrong, it was so so wrong.

You closed your eyes and a single tear rolled down your cheek fast enough to transfer to Ellie’s.

You pull your hand back from hers, taking a complete step backward and trying to conceal the tears that wanted to run down your cheeks freely.

“Do you like me, Ellie?”

The words had shocked the look off her face, only for her to reposition her brows into a confused glare.

“What?”

“Do you like me.” and there is a quiver in your voice. Her figure becomes blurry, but before she disappears completely you tilt your head and wipe your tears on the sleeve of your shirt.

“I– Yeah. Yeah, I like you. Why would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“Why would Dina?”

Her head drops down between her shoulders as she sighed. She didn’t know. She didn’t. But she knew that she would rather freeze to death than lose you, she knew that much.

She pulled her lips between her teeth “I– I don’t know. I- She- Dina kissed me, okay? And she asked me to dance. I didnt– I wanted to dance with you, I wanted to…” she couldn’t say it.

“What?”

“I wanted to kiss you, alright. I wanted to even before then. Before the dance or before the stables. From the moment you got here I knew. I just didn’t know. I do now, I swear.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to say everything, anything. Your lips were sealed with hot tears streaming down your face.

“Can you say something?” Her voice is merely a whisper like a jagged piece of ice dragging across your skin just light enough to form goosebumps.

You pinch your eyes shut and let your hands shakily wipe the salt water from your face.

“I– I… Ellie. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, this…”

She takes a small step toward you, grabbing a hold of your wrists gently enough for your back to meet the opposite wall of the greenhouse and boxing you in around the floor to ceiling plants that were on either side of you.

“Just, say something, please.” Ellie gave your wrists a little shake, freeing them from your face.

She looked worried now, and the thought of her thinking you didn’t like her sent a strike of sadness through you.

You move your hands fully away from your face and let them fall at your sides, lacing your fingers with Ellie’s slowly. She’s looking down at them, and swinging them softly from side to side.

“I… I liked you too. From the beginning I mean. In the dining hall when you sat next to me. I liked you then, I still do.” you confessed.

You felt the fire in your cheeks and you couldn’t meet Ellie’s eyes and you made way with her chest.

She leaned down an inch to place her forehead together with yours. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You let out a breath, a scoff even. “I tried! I was trying this entire time. And plus, you just said you realized you liked me. I wasn’t sure.”

Her words rang through you. You shook with anticipation.

“Is that why you left last night? Because you were jealous?” and Ellie’s voice rose to a mocking tone, tugging on your hands in a playful manner.

“Shut up. I was not.” and you look away, the smile bolted across your face proudly.

“You were! Say it, say it please! Tell me how jealous you were. C’mon, tell me tell me tell me!”

And it's then that you smash your lips against Ellie’s to meet her halfway with just the very tip of your toes.

Her lips were warm with lust, her hands breaking from yours to find the soft spots behind your ears with a swipe. Ellie exhaled into your mouth immediately and your head met the back wall of the greenhouse with a soft thud.

Her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance that was obviously unnecessary by how quickly you parted your lips for her. She rubbed slow circles over your jaw, and soon enough her hand was traveling down the curve of your hip and squeezing there. Just enough to express a moan from you.

Ellie smirked against your lips, drawing back for a breath before kissing you harder now, not hesitating or double checking for dominance. You were absolutely floored.

Your shirt had ridden up just mere inches, and her hand was met with the small piece of bare flesh there, causing you to let in a sharp inhale through your nose.

Both of Ellie’s hands are playing with the button of your jeans, fighting to get them undone and pulled down just below your pulsing cunt.

Once her hand finally finds the band of your underwear, it's over. You were already completely unfolding right in front of her.

Your mouth falls open, and a moan slips from your lips, a little louder now as you arch your back to be flush with Ellie. She bends back the band of elastic, traveling down to reach the very top of your pussy she can already feel how wet you are for her.

Just then, both of your hands fly to grip her inked forearm. A silent warning.

“Your hand… ‘s cold.” is all you can make out.

Ellie pulls back to take a look at you. You're absolutely flushed. “D’you want me to stop?” It was genuine. She wanted this to be perfect for you. She wanted to get it right.

“I– I want to keep going, but I-” and Ellie uncoiled her hand from beneath your pants to rest it on your hip.

“I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t ready for.” she let her arms straighten against you, waiting for you to reply.

“I’m ready. Really. I just don’t really wanna… do it here. It’s kinda dirty. And also probably illegal. And I really do have to take that stuff in.”

Ellie smiled. “You’re cute. Why don’t we take them together, and then, if you want, we can go hang out at mine?”

You looked at her with a tight lipped grin. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

#it’s cold here without you #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #ellie williams smut #tlou2 #the last of us smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #bellswlw

1K notes · View notes

ronwestbreeze · 9 months

Text

you’re gonna go far | 2

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human!reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 7.2k

read on AO3

The masks were annoying, and you decided halfway into walking through the forest.

You were stuck between two Na’vi warriors who rode horse-like creatures while being led away from Hell’s Gate and into the unfamiliar forest surrounding the facility. The name of the creatures they rode on escaped you at the moment but all you did know was that you looked utterly ridiculous standing next to them. Like a trapped mouse. Or a bug.

They were that tall.

Anyway, back to the mask.

While yes, they were useful—humans couldn’t breathe in the air without them, unfortunately—it still didn’t mean they weren’t an inconvenience. There was still dealing with the fogging when your breaths got too heavy or quick. Then there was the fact that you were consciously aware of some of the straps tied around the back of your neck and your jaw. For some reason, it bothered you and you couldn’t stop picking at it.

Your mother mentioned these masks a few times in her videos—even wore one at some point whenever she wasn’t in her avatar body. Sometimes her videos ended up like tutorials—or lectures about every aspect of her job, the Avatar Program, Pandora itself, or whatever created that spark in her eye, that prompted her to send you videos.

You only knew some of the information about Pandora and the Na’vi because of said videos.

That didn’t mean the masks weren’t fucking annoying though.

You didn’t say anything throughout the entire journey and the warriors didn’t offer any conversation, fortunately.

But then again, they didn’t take too kindly to your sudden appearance in their home—or your species in general. So starting a conversation with you or you with them was out of the question.

There was still a limp in your step as you walked. Your thigh looked newly wrapped, which also told you that the wound was still fresh and hadn’t had much time to heal yet.

You tried not to wince—or show that you were in pain for the matter. The last thing you wanted was to give them more ammo to complain about.

Not because you necessarily cared for what they thought about you.

You just didn’t have the energy.

“Demon.” One of the warriors—the one walking ahead of you—spoke suddenly, drawing you out of your internal thoughts.

You realized, after blinking, that the warriors had stopped next to a piece of land that was surrounded by what looked like newly bloomed trees and delicate-looking plants.

There was a bit of a lump in the green ground and a long-looking branch—a walking stick maybe—lodged into the ground next to the lump. Small objects decorated this stick. Beads, grass string, a long white shard—a tooth—and some other stuff you didn’t bother to look at.

All you could focus on was the lump. The ground which your mother was buried under. It looked like a couple of years had passed, with all the new growth, instead of a couple of days.

Carefully, you knelt on the ground. Carefully, you allowed your fingers to run along the regrown grass, feeling the lumps of soil and dirt underneath your fingertips. Carefully, you tackled roughly the fact that you wouldn’t be able to see your mother’s smile ever again.

You should’ve cried. But you already gave your tears away in the cell. But you hoped to have more to give. Just for your mother’s grave. Just for the flowers surrounding it.

To you, your mother was gone days ago. You wouldn’t—couldn’t accept that it was for much longer.

Silently, you stayed at the burial. Still and silent. You could’ve been a rock if you had wanted. To remain here, empty with your mother.

But the soft tickle against your right ear spurred you to move. Only slightly, just to swat at whatever was next to your ear away.

A second later it came back, but this time brushing against your left arm. You jolted back, ready to swat at it again when a voice hissed behind you.

“Don’t!”

For a while, you had forgotten that you weren’t alone with your mother. At the voice, you snapped your head over your shoulder to find the Na’vi woman from before—Neytiri—jumping down from a tree behind you. The warriors, who had been tasked to watch you, were already staring at you with intense gazes. The why, you didn’t know.

Something grazed your arm again and the reflex to swat at whatever was touching you kicked in again. You went to swing your arm but Neytiri appeared next to you, catching your arm while hissing, “I said don’t!”

You snatched your arm from her grasp instantly, “What the hell do you want—”

The rest of what you wanted to say remained stuck in your mouth when Neytiri pointed at what was bothering you for the past couple of seconds. Floating around your mother’s grave were white wisps. They moved with the wind and yet on their own accord at the same time. One of them even landed on your arm and stayed there. Despite the gentle breeze that should’ve urged it to fly away.

They reminded you instantly of dandelions. “What are they?”

You expected your question to be met with silence. But Neytiri had answered, “Atokirina. They are very pure spirits.” Instead of the severe expression she wore earlier when you met officially, it was replaced by a thoughtful one as she stared at both the—atokirina—and you. “From a very sacred tree. A tree that is very important to us.”

You continued staring at it warily. It still didn’t move from your arm. Since swatting it was a no-no, you instead gently blew at it until it finally floated from your arm. Only to rest on your injured thigh. The weight of it was nothing, but still. Why didn’t it go away?

Neytiri hadn’t gone away either which was strange.

Instead, she motioned for the two warriors to leave. You watched them hesitate before steering their horse-like creatures away from you, your mother, and Neytiri.

The three of you were left alone now. You weren’t being surrounded. But you were still being watched. By one less person.

At first, you considered ignoring the Na’vi woman and refocusing your attention on your mother’s burial. It would’ve been easy if not for Neytiri watching you. Literally, you felt her eyes drilling into the side of your head.

“Can I help you with something?” It came out a lot more annoyed than you intended—no, actually you did intend to get your annoyance across.

It was a bitter reminder of the current situation you were forced into.

Neytiri’s ears rose. For a moment the two of you just stared at each other. Until eventually you rolled your eyes and turned your gaze back to your mother.

Then suddenly Neytiri reached for the wooden stick.

Instantly, your defenses drew up. “What are you doing?” She took the beads from the stick. You reached for her hand, “Stop. Leave it alone—”

Neytiri hissed at you and you reluctantly dropped your hands.

You glared at her hands as she carefully removed the beads—which turned out to be attached to the grass string like some type of necklace. And delicately she held it in her hands, yellow eyes glimmering as she observed it.

For some reason, you were just angry. You didn’t know what the necklace was but you sure as hell didn’t want anyone messing with your mother’s burial. Never mind the fact that someone took the time out of their day to make it for her—a Na’vi most likely. Rationality wasn’t present right now.

All there was, all you could afford, was just anger.

“What’s your deal?” You questioned hotly. “Do you dislike me so much that you have to tamper with my mother’s grave? Do you have to come and keep an eye on me yourself? I already told you I would leave, what fucking more do you all want from me?!”

Neytiri looked up from the necklace to frown at you. Still, a thoughtful look was present in her eyes. “I want nothing from you. You have nothing to offer me, demon…” Her eyes then fell on the atokirina that still rested on your thigh. She then shook her head, “It does not matter what I want.”

Irritated and…confused, you forced yourself up to your feet. “If you want me gone that bad, then fine. Whatever. Just,” Your hands clenched together when she still hadn’t put the necklace down. Your heart twists in on itself. “Just put that back.” Neytiri looked up at you with an unreadable expression. “Please. And don’t—don’t get rid of this place. Please let her stay here even when I’m not here anymore. This was her dream. I don’t want to be the one to ruin it because of—because of everything that happened. She’s innocent.” At least that’s what you hoped.

God, you were so exhausted.

Neytiri didn’t say anything. Instead, she eyed you curiously now. You ignored her gaze and looked down at your hands.

The blisters and ash were long gone now—someone must’ve cleaned your hands while you had been unconscious during your trip to Pandora—now they were just covered in dirt. Imprints of your nails digging into your palms were still present.

Suddenly, the necklace was in your hands. It appeared longer in your hands than it did in hers.

You looked up to find Neytiri kneeling in front of you, staring at you intensely. Instantly your fingers wrapped around the object. Feeling the cool beads, the sharp white tooth, a small bone—this was a peculiar necklace. You wondered if Joan ever wore it.

“It is a songcord.” Neytiri’s voice snapped you out of your quiet thoughts. “We sing for memory.” She then pointed to one of the beads. It was a beautiful purple color, like a shell of sorts. She then pointed to a few more shells along the string until the very end. A black shell next to the bone. “Those are her memories of you. Until the end.”

The anger, you so rightfully felt, had gone and turned into true grief. It hadn’t left you. It had only been overshadowed by your rage. Grief and anger often coincided with each other lately. Sometimes you felt one more than the other.

And your eyes were filled with water once more.

Because your mother hadn’t forgotten about you. God, you were so selfish for thinking otherwise.

You were back on your knees, clutching the songcord close to your chest as silent tears fell from your cheeks and dripped noiselessly to the ground. At that moment, you didn’t care that you weren’t alone. You didn’t care that a stranger was seeing you cry—whereas others who knew you had never witnessed it.

Pandora had made you very vulnerable. Unarming your defenses and breaking you down into the child that you so desperately protected from the world.

Once you calmed down, you were still surprised that Neytiri hadn’t left you alone. One would’ve thought the sight of someone crying would’ve swayed them away. But not her.

You stood, still clutching the songcord in your hands. You didn’t look at Neytiri when you asked somberly, “Can I keep this?”

You didn’t know why you asked. Could she even stop you from taking it? Did she even care enough to stop you? None of these things you knew.

Neytiri did not respond. Her ears twitched as she adjusted her grip on the long bow she had been carrying in her other hand. She stood and you were once again reminded of how tall these people were compared to you.

She nodded her head toward the direction you had come from before with the two warriors, “Come.”

You watched as Neytiri started in that direction. You frowned, tucking the songcord away into your pants pocket—as delicately as you could. “I know my way back.”

“Come.” Neytiri just repeated as she kept going.

Not really in the mood to argue, you let your shoulders sink and followed after her.

And it wasn’t a long walk back to Hell’s Gate—the base where you had been kept—so you still didn’t understand why Neytiri had seemed so insistent in walking you back. Nor did you care to protest about it. The day had been too exhausting. You were ready to shut your eyes. Just to let your body rest.

Once you got to one of the entrances, Neytiri stayed outside, watching you silently as you entered and took off your mask. You glanced back at her with furrowed brows. Neytiri blinked and ran back into the forest. Seconds later you saw one of those winged creatures fly off into the sky.

You took out your mother’s songcord. Memorizing every detail, every bead, until it tied together and ended with the bone.

Was this hers? Was this your mother’s bone?

There was a question in the back of your mind. One that you forced away the moment you were being led to your mother’s burial. One that you had refused to acknowledge ever since DeVoe had brought you here.

DeVoe was dead. And you had some time on your hands.

Eywa hadn’t been wrong before. Neytiri had witnessed it.

With Jake. With Tsu’tey. The last time an atokirina favored someone, it had saved her clan from the Sky People. It had brought them the Toruk Makto, who united the clans together to run those sky demons off their planet. Eywa had heard them.

And Neytiri wouldn’t stop listening.

She had a dream a few nights before—before the RDA ship landed. She saw a shooting star. Flying straight toward her.

Still to this day, she wondered what that meant.

Then you came. She had spotted you first with another Sky Demon—this one reminding her too much of that one she killed, Quaritch. So, she shot an arrow through the demon’s head.

And she finally got a clearer view of you after landing and sliding off her ikran. Neytiri inched toward you with caution. She saw that you immediately didn’t get up to fight her. Instead, you just stayed on the ground and began desperately crawling toward a mask just a few feet away from you. You did not see her.

Neytiri reached the mask first and grabbed it from your reach. Your whimpers weren’t hard to hear, nor were your struggles for breath. There was no fight from you. Your body just slumped against the ground, staring up at Neytiri with glazed—almost empty eyes.

You did not fight her for the mask. You did not fight for your life.

With that knowledge, it should’ve been easy for Neytiri to leave you there. She should’ve tossed the mask far away from your body and let the toxic air consume you until your heart stopped beating.

Because you were just another infection on her land. In her home.

“Demon.” She hissed at you before your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Just as Neytiri would’ve turned to leave and find the others, her body stopped instantly when she saw the atokirina.

It was so out of place among all the wreckage surrounding them. But still pure. Always pure.

Neytiri prayed that it wouldn’t do what she thought it was about to do. She hoped that she was wrong for assuming much.

But the atokirina landed on your forehead back then. Just as they came to you at your mother’s burial.

She could’ve left you for dead.

But Eywa hadn’t been wrong before.

She could risk it. She couldn’t be like Tsu’tey and heartlessly leave the body to rot. To suffer for invading their home. To pay for the sins they had committed. For trying to come back.

But Neytiri wasn’t like Tsu’tey. And she was fine with that.

She knelt next to you at the last second and placed the mask against your face. She had done it exactly like how she did with Jake when he had been yanked out of his body during the war. Where she nearly lost him.

She kept the mask pressed to your face, praying for forgiveness from the Great Mother. Hoping that she hadn’t missed her chance. Desperate as you were trying to reach for the mask.

You were so small in her arms. Somewhat smaller than Jake had been.

The minutes lasted achingly long until the mask began fogging up.

Neytiri sighed with relief, “Thank you, Great Mother. Thank you.”

For some reason, Eywa favored you that day. And restated it the next when you were at your mother’s burial.

The Great Mother had something in store for you. And Neytiri was quite curious to see what that meant.

Hell’s Gate was abandoned. There were still people running about of course but immediately you had a feeling this place used to be more.

“This was where the RDA and everyone else primarily lived and worked,” Norm confirmed your silent question as he led you through a long hallway, both of you holding a mask in your hands.

You would’ve groaned at the idea of putting back on a mask but right now you were quite determined. Before you left Pandora, you wanted to know one thing. That was it. It wasn’t closure. It was just the information you wanted to obtain. Something to think about. Something that might dwindle your decision about leaving Pandora.

Both of you passed by different rooms, people who were either face first in their tablets or a deep discussion with their colleagues. Norm noticed this and cleared his throat, “There’s very few of us left here. After the RDA were exiled and all, the natives were reluctant to even allow us to stay here. Even if we did help them win. Before that, there were a lot more of us here. The good and the bad.”

Quietly, you wondered which side your mother fell on.

After putting on your exo-mask, Norm stopped at a door and pushed it open, leading the two of you outside. There, you saw more Na’vi—no, avatars running about. Exercising, manual labor, anything to do with being active.

“This is where most of the avatars come to train their new bodies. Over there are the gardens—” he pointed further toward the right of them where a bunch of tall browning crops were. And there were a lot of them. Stretching toward the trees surrounding them. You wondered if that was a part of the garden too. You wondered if your mother had a hand in that. “No one’s tended to it for a while now. We lost a good number of scientists, not enough to be in charge of it.”

Finally, Norm led you toward a building nestled in the trees. He opened the front door—which was surprisingly unlocked. The door whined from the action. It was quite old looking—no, not taken care of for a while.

“This is where your mother worked. Right in the middle of the action.” Norm explained as you entered the small shack.

It was just another lab. Just a lot larger and crowded than the ones in the main building. Crowded yet neat. Even with all the stuff in here, it was somehow still neat.

Norm cleared his throat again, “I’ll come back for you when we find a ship for you.”

You absently nodded.

Seconds later the door closed and finally, you removed your mask. The moment you stepped forward, the lights came on. The computers at the center of the room suddenly came to life. Holographic screens floated around the room.

After placing the mask on a table next to a golf club—you didn’t even question it knowing your mother’s randomness—and approached the computers, quickly getting to work on what you wanted to find.

Which was pretty straightforward. Mostly because you were used to your mother’s organization, her system. Apart of being an apprentice under her required you to sort out everything in a particular order. Files weren’t alphabetical but sorted according to how they would make your mother feel.

Joan Reeds was quite the eccentric scientist.

Files that put her in a good mood would be the first ones to be greeted with. You moved past those.

Files that made her annoyed would be put aside or hidden away in another folder until she was ready to tackle them. You scrolled past that folder too.

Then there were files that she would get to eventually—meaning she’d procrastinate on them until they were forgotten. Usually, those went into the recycle bin. And there were a lot.

You scrolled past all of these to get to what you wanted. After getting through a few of hers and the RDA’s security walls, you eventually found the locked files DeVoe had wanted you to look at.

The password space empty.

The next few minutes were spent entering passwords that you thought your mother would use. Her name, Joan. Her birthday. Your birthday. Your father’s birthday. Your late dog’s name—which you knew would’ve been wrong considering how much she hated that dog. Her cat’s name, which she left to you before her trip.

All of them were wrong.

You glanced toward the door, wondering how much time you had left before Norm came to get you. And then you took out your mother’s songcord, looking at it carefully. Memorizing every detail, feeling every bead, every object strung together. Until you found yourself staring at the end. The bone.

You wondered what type of song it was. You wondered how she would’ve sung it. You imagined her voice. Her laughter. Her twinkling eyes. Her excitement. Her infectious wonder.

The bone was rough against your callous fingers.

A word suddenly came to mind then. It was a long shot but you tried it anyway.

Placing the songcord back in your pocket, you typed in the next word after the twenty-minute password cooldown:

Shadow.

A beat went by.

And the folder opened.

There was a tug on your lips.

Or perhaps you imagined your face breaking into a smile. You couldn’t tell. Your face had been quite stuck as a scowl. Almost like it was permanent.

A video came up first. Your mother wasn’t smiling like she always did in her videos.

“Log 238. We’re making progress on our gardens and the animals we rescued from the RDA’s latest trek through the forest.” She winced, her eyes sparkling with a hint of rage. “Selfridge is pressuring me to hurry up my research on the neurotoxin. I keep telling him that there has been no progress so far and that there would most likely never be progress. He bought it at first but he’s becoming desperate. Greedy. I can only keep up the lies for so long.”

The video ended. Which was smart. She probably didn’t want to admit the truth on camera. You imagined that the RDA had some access to these videos, so her admitting what the lie was would’ve been damning evidence. Especially if she was so protective over it.

You kept looking until you stumbled upon a folder that opened into more holographic screens. You moved the screens around, taking in all the information she had hidden.

Turns out she did come up with something. Only it was how to develop the neurotoxin. All the information was there to remake it in their labs, to have some of their own.

You understood then. You understood why DeVoe was so desperate to uncover what was behind the wall. Just another weapon to use against the Na’vi.

Not like they didn’t already have enough.

From the video diaries, your mother explained the darker side of her trip. She never went into too much detail but you could always tell that it bothered her. So much so that she avoided talking about it at all costs. Like she didn’t want to ruin your young fantasy the same way it had happened to her.

You found another video and your stomach lurched.

She looked pale and skinnier here. This must’ve been around the time she was sick.

“Log 324. They won’t stop. Not until they get the unobtanium from them. They’ll take and take and take until there’s nothing left. Until this is a void of a planet—and it makes me sick thinking about it. It makes me sick—knowing that I had helped, whether it was intentional or not I had helped them progress. Oh my god, oh my god. What will my daughter think? What would she think of me? Knowing I had done this? I can’t—I can’t let her see this—be a part of this. It’ll eat her alive, it’ll destroy her. Pandora is a gold mind for them. And they're not going to stop, no matter what I do. The one thing I can do, the only thing in my power I can do is hide my research. Hide it until…I don’t know. I don’t know…”

Joan dropped her head down. Her breathing was hallow, wheezing. You shook, watching her. The corners of your eye itching harshly.

“If any—wheeze—if any of you fucks find this…..leave her out of it. If I’m dead, my work goes with me.”

You backed away from the table, eyes wide.

She never wanted you here. She never wanted you here.

“You hear me?!” Joan shouted at the camera. “It all dies with me!”

Anger burned your blood. It spurred you into action as you grabbed the nearest object—the golf club—and grasped it tightly in your hands.

You didn’t think.

You didn’t think one bit. All you did was swing. Swung it down on the computers, shattering the monitors, smashing the hard drives, the consoles—everything on the table that contained information. You kept going and going and going until there was a worn dent in the pole.

After those computers were surely destroyed, you moved onto the shelves, the journals, the papers—anything that held information. You destroyed it all.

And god, it felt so good.

Finally having an outlet to waste all your angered energy away. Finally able to let it out with both a shout of rage and with every bit of your strength left.

You screamed and you hit.

You screamed. You hit.

One of the monitors caught on fire. But you kept going.

You screamed. You hit.

The door to the lab suddenly opened. The fire had spread to the scattered papers and journals on the floor.

Smoke hadn’t reached your nose until you heard Norm’s shouts behind you. And the reddened vision began to fade into orange flames.

Somehow you were always surrounded by fire.

Behind you, Norm shouted, “What did you do?!”

You hadn’t responded. All you did was threw the worn golf club down and remained there in the room.

A shadow of yourself among the flames.

“What happened?” Jake demanded once he spotted Norm’s avatar approaching.

Just moments before, he had received reports from scouts near Hell’s Gate that there had been some type of fire. Though it wasn’t huge it was still enough to spook the locals and anger a certain Olo’eyktan. Not long after, he got a call from Norm, saying he had to meet with him urgently before Jake took off on his ikran to check out the fire. Although, he briefly wondered why he couldn’t just fly over to Hell’s Gate and meet up with him.

Norm was already on the way. So Jake had waited until he showed up.

After hopping out of the landed Samson ship, Norm raised his hands cautiously, “Well, I can explain—”

“Make it quick,” Jake grumbled, adjusting his chest strap. “I was supposed to be heading out with the scouts to check out some fire. They said it was near Hell’s Gate, Norm. What the hell is going on over there?”

He didn’t mean to sound snappy or on edge than he intended. But after that RDA ship arrived, everyone—including him—had been on edge for the past few days. Jake couldn’t sleep. Tsu’tey’s nightmares were getting worse--his mother becoming more aggravating as the days passed. There was a lot that Jake tried to juggle, tried to manage to the point where someone would eventually have to tell him to slow down and take a breath.

But it seemed Jake could never afford to “take a breath”.

Neytiri—just ducked out of their shared hut with her bow at her side as usual—was one of the people who had to often ground Jake whenever the world, his duties, did get too much. Overwhelming. And when Artsut became savage, Neytiri would become brutal. She would defend Jake with her last breath. She would take him in her arms, pulling him out of the world for a moment, and just talk to him. Talk to him about Neteyam, her hunt, anything to bring some sort of sanity back to Jake.

And he was so grateful to her. So in love with her. But he didn’t deserve her love or her support. If he had been a good husband, a good mate, he would’ve known that. Every time she or Tsu’tey just loved him, there was always guilt squeezing at his heart. Until he lost oxygen.

So to breathe, Jake protected the clan as their Toruk Makto. Kept training and learning more about the Na’vi way as best as he could. Protected Neytiri. Protected Tsu’tey. Protected Neteyam.

Be the best mate that he could. The best father that he never had.

Other than that, what was his worth to them?

“You are in the way.” Neytiri frowned at Norm. Even if Jake and Norm were friendly, Neytiri still wasn’t well adjusted to his presence—which was fair. Any human presence in the village had her on edge. “What is it you want, dreamwalker?”

Norm quickly spoke, “The fire has been contained, it didn’t spread anywhere. The only thing that was damaged was the building it started in.”

Okay, that was somewhat of a relief. But Norm didn’t look like he was done, which was why Jake couldn’t relax entirely at the news. “—It was mostly an accident. Dr. Reeds, she wasn’t in her right mind—”

“Reeds?!” Jake snapped. Of course, it was the new human that did this. Of course, you’d instantly have to start causing problems the moment you arrived here. “How the hell did she get access to a lab in the first place?!”

Norm sighed, “It was her mother’s lab. Something in there must’ve triggered her. She destroyed everything. The hard drives. The manual files. A lot of valuable research was lost.”

What was the goal here? Why pretend like to not want anything to do with Pandora or the RDA and then go and pull a stunt like this?

In the corner of his eye, he noticed Neytiri’s face change slightly. It softened--only a little bit. And she was noticeably quiet, not having anything to say about the fact that you started the fire. A human. Which, once more, she was uncomfortable around.

“How long until she’s off this planet?” Jake instead scowled, earning a surprised look from both Neytiri and Norm.

Norm looked nervous, “That was another thing I wanted to tell you. We don’t have the resources to send her back. There’s just no way. The ship that she came in is already destroyed by the attack. We have nothing—Dr. Reeds is pretty much stuck with us.”

“Bullshit!” Jake hissed.

“We should bring her to Tsahik.”

Both men looked at Neytiri in shock. After a beat, Jake responded, “What?”

Neytiri nodded surely, “We bring her to Tsahik. She will know what to do with her.” Jake still stared at her in bewilderment. She gave him a meaningful look before addressing him in Na’vi. “You did not see it, Ma’Jake. The atokirina. They were there the day she arrived. And came again when she went to see her mother. It happened to you too. The Great Mother is telling us something. And we must hear her.”

Jake was thrown off. No, he was confused. Because Neytiri was usually the one fully against the Sky People. She held a fit of righteous anger toward them, the same for Tsu’tey. Those two would be Team Get-Rid-Of-Humans-Altogether. But now?

It wasn’t necessarily out of character though. Neytiri had always believed in Eywa. She did with him when the atokirina came to him when they first met. When she saved him--even though she could’ve just as well left him to die to those thanators. Now wouldn’t have been any different if the same thing happened again.

That didn’t mean he had to be convinced.

Jake turned back to Norm, “I want to talk to her.”

Norm sighed, “I don’t know if that’s a—”

“I want to know who exactly we’re dealing with here. She’s already shown how destructive she can be. How do we know she’s not capable of doing worse?”

Surprisingly, instead of a look of understanding—which was often Norm’s character when it came to the natives—he wore something close to offense. “She’s grieving, Jake. And yes, I know we aren’t exactly on good terms with humans outside of Pandora—but she isn’some monster. She lost her mother for Christ’s sake! It may have been years ago for us but for her, it happened a few days ago! This is all understandingly jarring to her. We have to—” He sighed tiredly, massaging his face. “At least consider that when you do talk to her. The wound is still fresh.”

Jake’s ears twitched, his walls still up. Norm could’ve been right, he could’ve considered this. And he would. He would keep it in mind.

But this situation, all of it was just terrifying.

His nightmares, his fears—it felt like it all just came true the moment they saw that RDA ship. And in that moment Jake thought about the home he had only just started for himself. His mates—the loves of his life—his son who wasn’t even one—and the child that wasn’t even born yet. He felt, in that brief moment, all of that slipping from his fingers and burning away.

Jake was surrounded by fire. He was always surrounded by fire.

“I’ll talk to her.” Jake reiterated. He called for his ikran and seconds later Bob came flying down and landed in front of the three of them. Jake got onto the saddle and looked to Neytiri, his scowl softening. “Tell Mo’at I’ll bring her over in an hour or two.”

Neytiri nodded and rushed off. Norm shifted on his feet and pursed his lips, “Please don’t make her go all She-Hulk on you.”

Jake rolled his eyes, “I’ll meet you there.” and Bob took off.

At some point, you had fallen asleep.

Your body wouldn’t allow you to fight it any longer. Apparently, you hadn’t gotten much rest since your arrival on Pandora. It’s a wonder you didn’t pass out until now.

But then again, you were too much of a light sleeper to get a nice complete rest. Any noise, unfortunately, woke you up from your well-deserved sleep. And when you sat up and blinked the sleep away, exhaustion still weighed down your shoulders.

You looked down at your hands. There were leftover red markings from your tight grip on the golf club from earlier.

When were your hands ever unmarked? You couldn’t remember.

The songcord was thankfully still in your pocket. You must’ve snatched it in time before being dragged out of the lab and thrown back into a cell again. That was the one thing keeping you sane here surprisingly. Holding your mother’s songcord close to your chest, letting it always touch your skin, and studying each bead every time you brought it out.

It always ended with the bone. Always. Always.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed some ash on your shirt sleeve.

Someone cleared their throat.

You looked up and then found Norm standing in front of your cell. The glass was gone. He nodded his head toward the doorway leading out of the cell room, “Jake wants to talk to you.”

You blinked, “Who the hell is that?”

“Come on, work with me here, Doc.” Norm sighed as you sluggishly got up from the cot. Gently, you tucked your mother’s songcord back into your pocket. “You met him when you first arrived here. Remember when you asked to see your mother? He was there. He’s Toruk Makto to the Omatikaya. He’s a great warrior to the People….and believe it or not he used to be like us. Human.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment as Norm led you out of the cell room. “Okay, why does he want to talk to me?”

“Because believe it or not, Reeds, you and Sully are a lot alike. Even if he doesn’t realize it. If anything, he’s probably your best bet.”

“And if he isn’t?”

Norm frowned but didn’t look at you. “I’m not sure.”

This time, you didn’t go outside—thank god.

Instead, Norm led you to another room on the ground floor. You were quite startled to find that in this room were a bunch of tanks, occupied with many more avatars. They looked unused compared to the ones you’ve seen roaming about on the grounds.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder if some of these belonged to the people who used to live here. The ones that were exiled.

There was only one avatar that stood among the sleeping ones. Or a Na’vi.

Jake Sully. This great warrior once like you. A human.

He was near one of the tubes. Looking particularly focused on this one. You couldn’t see clearly just which avatar he was looking at. Nor did you try to.

“Please, behave.” Norm squirmed. He was looking at both you and Jake when he said that before ducking out of the room.

Leaving just the two of you.

Jake finally tore his gaze away from the tube to look at you.

“You wanted to see me.” You stated rather than asked. Better to get straight to the point than to talk around it.

He sized you up carefully and frowned, “You nearly burned down a lab.”

“My mother’s lab, yes. As I currently understand it, she made it pretty clear that I was to be her successor before she passed.” Your tone was clipped. Steel gaze unwavering from his observant and stern one. “Which, I believe, means I can do what I want with it.”

“And so you thought destroying it was smart?” He scowled, obviously annoyed by your apparent unconcerned attitude. “You could’ve burned down the forest with your recklessness—if that wasn’t already your goal in the first place.”

You snorted humorlessly, “Fuck off.”

“This place has already seen war. We don’t need more of it—”

“Sure, that’s fine. So, how exactly am I going to start a war? By existing? The only person you needed to worry about starting a war is already dead so no need to worry about that anymore—”

“I don’t think you fully understand what’s going on here.” Jake snapped, yellow eyes blazing in your direction. “To the natives, you are just another infection that they have no problem getting rid of. They will kill you—especially after that little stunt you pulled with your mother’s lab. And your little attitude sure ain’t gonna fix shit for yourself—”

You laughed. And it was a sharp sound too. “I’m sorry, should I be weepy and pathetic instead? Is that what you want? The poor defenseless human whose shit outta luck? Well, I got news for you, buddy.”

His face was hard. His presence, intimidating. A Marine. Anyone would’ve faltered around him. Reconsidered their moves. Softened their spine.

But your spine was dripping with venom. And your moves were unpredictable and hazardous. Something he couldn’t contain.

Jake finally huffed, shaking his head, “Norm thinks I can help you—and I’ve known him for long enough to know that. But I can’t help someone who refuses to listen. I can’t help someone uncooperative. I can’t help a loss cause.” You glared at him. He glared back. “I understand your loss, believe me, I do. But what happens next is out of my hands. Whatever happens next is on you.”

You shrugged, every word felt like you were tasting blood with how pissed off you were, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t need your fucking help then.” Jake’s nose flared, tail lashing behind him in barely contained anger. “So why am I still on this planet? If I’m such a bother to you, a loss cause—in your words, why am I still here—”

“Because there’s no way to get you off of it,” Jake snapped.

He sounded as if he didn’t like the truth coming from his own mouth. You, on the other hand, were flabbergasted.

So you were stuck on a planet—the same one you were forced to fly to? The same one where a bunch of Na’vi people looked at you as a moving target?

What the actual fuck?

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry.

But every bit of your energy had gone after your rage at your mother’s lab. All you could do was feel the exhaustion get worse and your power failed you. Anger seemed too much effort to muster now. All there was…

Sluggishly, you looked up at the ceiling with a long drawn-out sigh.

Why were you even so adamant about going back home?

What was even left for you there? Your mother was gone and so was her forest, the one thing you promised to continue while she was gone.

But you failed. The forest was gone—hell five years have passed after you left Earth. There was probably nothing even left for you to do there.

There was no point in you going back. It was all over anyway.

God, you were so exhausted.

You looked back at Jake to find him watching you quietly, now deciphering your reaction. The severity in his face was still there but now well restrained by his guarded expression. Probably wondering if you were going to throw another rage fit.

You wanted to.

Instead, you muttered, “So, I’m stuck here. Fine. What will you do with me?”

There was a long pause before Jake responded. “I can’t decide that. Our Tsahik wants to see you. Maybe she’ll figure it out—if our Ole’eyktan decides otherwise.”

“So, I’m as good as dead.” You said, almost acceptingly.

He made an uncommitted sound. Another pregnant pause went by.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to burn the forest down. Your odds could’ve been better.”

You chuckled bitterly, moving toward one of the tubes. You didn’t recognize the avatar but you studied it anyway. “If I hadn’t done that then the RDA would’ve gotten their hands on research having to do with recreating your little neurotoxin. You know that shit you use on your arrow tips? My mother discovered a way to recreate it. She died protecting that secret. And now I destroyed it permanently so no one could get their hands on it.”

His ears twitched at this—it steadily reminded you of a cat.

You looked up at him bleakly. “You're welcome.”

Jake didn’t say anything. You just kept staring at the random avatar.

Somewhere in your mind, you were intrigued by it. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered that there was one waiting for you to use.

You wondered if you would ever be able to use it. To muster the strength to use it.

“We should go.” Jake finally said. “The Tsahik is waiting.”

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @slutforsmut4ever @lik0 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower

651 notes · View notes