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#character clay cracking

pratchettquotes · 7 months

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The crowd looked at him with the kind of expression people always wore when they looked at Carrot. It was the face-cracking realization that he really did believe what he was saying. The sheer enormity tended to leave people breathless.

Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

#carrot ironfoundersson #feet of clay #discworld #terry pratchett #character description #the inner carrot #sincerity #belief #optimism #first impressions #psychology #unbelievable #face-cracking realization #the sheer enormity

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newlydeparteddog · 5 months

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I need more time/energy after work to explore these ideas weh. Anyone else feel super drained lately? Like is it just BC it's so damn dark now after work?

But anyway some things I've thinking about. This conceptual sketch of this idea I had, which idk I'll not explain too deeply yet BC I wanna polish it first, it will accompany smth else.

And what the fuck these twos dynamic be like? After watching so many body cam videos of drunken adult toddlers I need to know, I gotta get a sense of this. The show doesn't provide and I need answers, one episode of Clay acting out isn't enough to satisfy me. (Sorry it's bad lmao, I drew this like 10 seconds before dozing off and the words are illegible.)

Bloberta mug hahah. Wtf. Just on its own (comes with a Santa one blah) I really might have been tempted, just for the lol of it but my bf would kill me for wasting money, and I also like money being in my pocket instead. (Paint job is shit anyway for the price)

#like imagine the humiliation play that is ripe here just waiting to be exposed to the masses #also sorry i almost never do anything canonical and just play with ideas i like wondering what could happen #esp with side characters #so yeah haha never expect the canon shit but be ready for rarepairs and crack ships really #sorry tags only talking about clay/papermouth #well that part #okay these tags are a mess lmao #sorry im tired

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weheartstims · 8 months

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one for Lylah/Rat (an oc, from encoreverse) with red and purple colours, fabric, cracking things, and anything else that you'd think would work if you may?

-Luna

Lylah/Rat (OC) with red and purple cracking and fabric!

🟣|🟥|🟣 🟥|🟣|🟥 🟣|🟥|🟣

#weheartstims #stimboard #original character #purple #red #fabric #cracking #clay cracking #hands

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crowsandmurder · 3 days

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Clay Morrow Tags and Verses

Clay ✖ (Aesthetics)

Clay ✖ (Thoughts)

Clay ✖ (Character Development)

Clay ✖ (Crack)

Clay ✖ (Headcanons)

Clay ✖ (Photos)

Clay ✖ (Starter Call)

BIOGRAPHY

Clay Morrow was born in Sacramento in 1949 to Clarence and Kathleen Morrow. His parents had not been expecting to have a child, but his mother had been thrilled. She tried to provide him with a loving home, whereas his father was a World War II vet, who tried to teach him that he needed to be hard, responsible and needed to love his country. Clay wasn’t sure about serving in the military at first. He often found himself wandering around the streets of Sacramento, in his teenage years. It was then, that he developed his love for bikes, specifically Harleys.

His father made sure that he signed up for the draft, but Clay was happy to not be sent to Vietnam, right away. He’d just bought himself a Harley and he wanted to be out on the road. After his mother died of Pneumonia right before he turned 18, his father turned to the bottle, repeatedly telling him that he’d never amount to nothing, spending all his time on his Harley. Not longafter that, he packed up his belongings and with just 100 bucks in his pocket, he headed out on the road. It was then that, he learned how to do odd jobs, settling for a bit in Lodi, where he worked part-time in a mechanic shop, cleaning up. The owner took him under his wing and taught him everything he needed to know about fixing cars and his bike.

He was settled there for quite some time, before he went back out on the road. He felt most at home, not settling anywhere. Out on the road, he met up with John Teller, and he wound up riding with him and Piney Winston, along with six others. It wasn’t long before they started calling themselves the First 9, as the Sons of Anarchy were created by John Teller and Piney Winston. Clay was one of only three people who had not served time in the military, and some of the older guys, who did their time, made fun of him about it.

In 1969, Clay was sent to Vietnam and became part of the Army Airborne, serving time until 1972. Upon his return, he reconnected with the Sons of Anarchy and continued to ride with them, a little harder, after his time in Vietnam. In 1977, it all changed. While the guys all had women they hooked up with, JT had found himself a young one. She looked barely legal to him, but she was hot. He had definitely looked, but he knew that she had her eyes on JT. After she got pregnant, they all settled in Charming, California.

Clay was not that impressed with Charming, of all places. It just lacked anything, really, in his opinion. It was small and nothing interesting seemed to happen there. But, they had acquired a good amount of land, and that was when he and JT decided to open the Teller-Morrow Shop. They were both good at auto repair, and as time went by, Clay knew it would make a good front. Once the business got going and the clubhouse was up to his standards, Clay decided that Charming might not be so bad, after all.

Over the years, things began to become less about brotherhood and more about what they had gotten into. In the late 80s, Clay and JT went with fellow member, Keith McGee, to help with trouble that had arisen in Keith’s hometown, a suburb of Belfast. They had gotten into trouble with the IRA, and that was when Clay saw opportunity. He started pushing for the gun business back home, and he knew that JT was hesitant, but Clay was not going to give in. Once they got back, he’d managed to convince most of the guys. This could bring in the money. Clay took advantage of the fact that JT seemed to be not as focused, and he used it to his advantage.

As time went on, Clay noticed that JT seemed less focused on Gemma, even when their youngest son died. He could see that they were both broken over it, but to him, JT had become weak and unfocused in Clay’s eyes, and he had no problem anymore, in flirting and eventually starting an affair with his wife. He knew that John was not stupid and knew that he was sleeping with his wife, but he flat out didn’t care. After JT was killed in a motorcycle accident, Clay took the gavel, arguing that Piney was too old, to do so.

He went to prison a few times, usually for gun running charges, but it didn’t take him long to marry Gemma after JT’s death. While JT had tried to handle things more diplomatic, Clay had no problem spilling blood, if it suited him, which happened more than once, during the war against the Mayans.

Clay was always someone who did whatever it took, to get what he wanted.

VERSES:

v: fuck the system | FIRST NINE

Time Period: 1968 - 1993 Clay is asked to join the Sons of Anarchy, goes to Vietnam, Is patched in upon his return and is committed to the club in a variety of ways, one of which being pushing for the gun business. He’s also responsible for a lot of the murders during the Mayan War. As John Teller started to lose faith in what they were doing, Clay started taking advantage in many ways, which included bedding his wife and likely sabotaging his bike, to kill him. Faceclaim: Cam Gigandet for the 60’s - 80’s, then Ron Perlman

v: sitting on top of the world | PRESIDENT YEARS (Pre-Show)

Time Period: 1993 - 2008 After the death of John Teller, Clay became President of the Sons of Anarchy. He continued to get them deeper in guns, resulting in a number of fatalities, and all sorts of problems.

v: it ain’t easy being king | SEASON ONE

Clay tries to run the club the best he can, with the ATF breathing down his neck, the whole time.

v: nobody threatens SAMCRO | SEASON TWO

Clay faces new challenges, as Jax starts to challenge everything he does, due to him knowing how Donna Winston died. That’s not all though, as he finds out later that his wife has been gang raped to send a message to him.

v: you do what you have to do | SEASON THREE

After the Irish take Abel, Clay helps Jax do whatever he can, to get his son back. This includes traveling to Ireland, where Clay has to kill Keith McGee, another First Nine member after he betrays SAMCRO.

v: paranoia strikes deep | SEASON FOUR

After Gemma tells Clay that Tara and Piney have the letters that could implicate him in John Teller’s murder, Clay does whatever he can, to keep the truth from coming out. This also includes the downfall of he and Gemma’s relationship, and him losing the gavel.

v: the whistler | SEASON 5

After Jax lets Clay live, he’s allowed to sit at the table. He does his own scheming with the NOMADS. Eventually, he loses his patch and is sent to jail for a murder he didn’t commit.

v: sympathy for the devil | SEASON 6

Clay spends his time in jail, before he is broken out and killed by Jax.

v: fortunate son | AU

Anything that is AU falls under this verse

#v: fuck the system [The First Nine]#v: sitting on top of the world [President Years (Pre Show)]#v: it ain't easy being king [season 1]#v: nobody threatens samcro [season 2]#v: you do what you have to do [season 3]#v: paranoia runs deep [season 4]#v: the whistler [season 5]#v: sympathy for the devil [season 6]#v: fortunate son [AU or Canon Divergence]#Clay ✖ (Aesthetics)#Clay ✖ (Thoughts)#Clay ✖ (Character Development)#Clay ✖ (Crack)#Clay ✖ (Headcanons)#Clay ✖ (Photos)#Clay ✖ (Starter Call)#tags #✖ [Character: Clay Morrow]

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zombie-eats-world · 6 months

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Crocodad Theory: The not-so-Crack-pot Theory.

Making this post in order to replace my old Crocodad thesis since I think I can do better now. Plus I was still using the old theory name then and I dislike seeing it pinned on my tumblr now. You can find that older post HERE if you desire to!

Crocodad theory, chances are you have heard about this theory if you are even slightly invested in the One Piece fandom. But despite its infamy, and outside its stanch believers like myself, it's mostly considered a crack theory and used for a laugh.

Now let's be clear, Crocodad theory is not a crack theory. A crack or crack-pot theory is more of a headcanon built on vibes, it's a fun idea made up out of thin air and isn't really serious. If the Crocodad theory was a crack theory it would have evaporated into the nether by now. It's over a decade old, after all, and yet it persists to this day! That is because the Crocodad theory has real evidence from the canon, the One Piece offshoots, and maybe even Oda himself.

If you weren't aware of the Crocodad theory, sometimes lovingly called Dadodile, let me summarize it very succinctly. The theory is that Crocodile is a transgender man and gave birth to Luffy. Crocodile is Luffy's other father and his birthing parent. If you think that sounds ridiculous or even hilarious, let me walk you through it because I assure you- that is intentional.

Let us begin where the theory began... Impel Down.

The possibility for this theory was born in 2009 with these panels:

The simple fact that Ivankov exists and that he knows Crocodile, from "when he was just starting out" mind you, makes this not only possible but probable.

What other "secret" could Ivakov be speaking of here? It's definitely not his weakness to water, that would just be bad storytelling. It could be that Crocodile is the child of Rocks which is possible considering we now know Ivankov was at the Gods Valley incident. But if I could speak as a writer for a moment, it would really be a waste for an author to introduce a character that can change genders and then bring back one of the first big villains like Crocodile, AND THEN connect the two with the mention of weakness but not make that secret that Crocodile had once been a woman. Or even at least a part of the reason.

But if that reasoning falls through for you, here is some in-canon evidence for the idea that Crocodile is transgender:

First of all, the agents' code names are so gendered: Every single digit agent is Mr with a Mrs, or Ms partner.

Crocodile’s name. His moniker is different from almost every other powerful pirate the story introduces to us. He isn’t just Desert King Crocodile, he is Desert King Sir Crocodile. Again it is oddly pronoun-centered. As if he is trying to remind people that he’s a guy.

The introduction of Bon Clay. Bon Clay is our first canon queer character in One Piece. He makes mention of being a girl many times and feels like a joke character when we first meet him. But as we know in One Piece, a pirate crew is a reflection of the Captain. Crocodile isn’t prejudiced to queer people like Bon Clay alludes to others being a few times. Crocodile even allowed Bon Clay to be both the male and female of his team!

Next up was the reveal of Baby Crocodile and how it’s deliberating ambiguous what gender Crocodile is. In every other Warlord's childhood look reveal, their gender is obvious, so why was Crocodile left out of that?

Then of course we have Gold Roger's execution, and how almost everyone got a reaction panel. But not Crocodile. No, we only see the back of his head. Oda has shown that he loves to get every single character's reaction to major events, sometimes to a fault. So why is he trying so hard to hide Crocodile from us? It just isn’t Oda’s style to leave someone out unless there is some kind of secret he wants to build up too. Now be sure to keep this in mind for later.

Last but certainly not least is just how much of an absolute troll Oda is. This will not be the last time I bring this up, Oda is a HUGE troll. He loves to play to his favorite fan theories and he decides most everything on how funny it is. And wouldn't it be funny if the first antagonist in the Grandline was secretly the birth parent of Luffy?

I mean just look at this! Oda, you absolute troll.

Bottom line: Trans Crocodile is more likely than not.

But this is where a lot of people decide the rest of this theory is crack, they take Trans!Crocodile and leave Crocodad out for reasons I honestly can't understand. Despite that, Cracodad has just as much if not more evidence than the Transgender part of this theory.

Before I begin I would like everyone reading to keep a few things in mind. All throughout the Impel down arc and the journey to Marineford, and even the first few chapters into Marineford, Crocodile could not have given a shit about Luffy, Ace, or the war at all. He did not care who won the war or if everyone involved died. He came to the battlefield for the sole purpose of killing Whitebeard. PERIOD. He was never once shown reacting with any concern when Luffy began facing down anyone strong. Not even Magellan. Crocodile had been around Luffy, seeing him do inspiring things for a massive amount of chapters by the time we get to Marineford, and yet Crocodile literally didn't care if Luffy lived or died, he just wanted to fight Whitebeard.

With that clear let's move on to what happened after Luffy's father was revealed to the world in Marineford. This moment is where the most obvious evidence first came about:

When Sengoku announces Luffy's father to the world we get many reaction shots, but once again Crocodile is conveniently missing from the lineup. He even disappears for a whole chapter! The young man who took down his decade-long plan to take over Alabasta just got announced to be the most wanted man in the world son, and we get no reaction from Crocodile... its suspicious.

Crocodile stopped Ace’s execution: Now Crocodile explains this by saying he ‘didn’t want to let Sengoku have the pleasure of victory’ but seriously? What kind of petty ass BS reasoning is that?! Crocodile has dreams and ambitions, and yet he gives up trying to be the one to take down Whitebeard to randomly save someone he canonly mocks in Impel Down? Someone he doesn’t care about. Some people will tell you it’s because Luffy inspired him like Luffy does many others, but what exactly is Luffy doing in Marineford that he didn’t in Impel Down or even Alabasta? Nothing. That means Crocodile has an entire about-face for no believable reason while completely off-screen. Which we've already said isn't Oda's style.

Daz and Crocodile face Mihawk to help Luffy: When Daz blocks Mihawk’s strike, Luffy questions it. Daz answers: It’s an order from above! That means Crocodile ordered Daz to specifically protect Luffy. Again, why? What reason did he have to do that? If this was some latent Crocodile has been inspired™️ moment, why wouldn’t Oda show it? Oda loves to hype up those moments, and loves to detail it all to the smallest piece. But Crocodile just randomly decided to have his main man Daz look out for this person that he COULDN’T HAVE GIVEN A CRAP ABOUT JUST TEN EPISODES BEFORE does not fit within the story. Then, right after Daz blocks Mihawk, Crocodile appears out of the woodwork to block another attack.

When Mihawk questions why he’d protect Luffy, Crocodile’s only response is “I’m not in the best mood now, Mihawk, you better watch yourself.” It’s interesting that he has no reason, none, he just comments that he’s in a shit mood. Maybe because he just found out he once stabbed his own child in the gut and left him to die?!

Crocodile vs Akainu: The brother killing Lava Man™️ is probably the most dangerous person in the war. He has no mercy, no morals, no restraint. So the fact that as Luffy is lying comatose and weak, with Jimbe slumped over him, Akainu about to deliver the final blow, Crocodile coming out of nowhere once again is so telling.

The fact is: Crocodile went above and beyond to save Luffy. That final stand against Akainu is so powerful. Crocodile doesn’t just save Luffy, he rushes to Luffy's aid, slicing through Akainu and reassembles to stand protectively between them. He did not need to do this at all. Oda didn’t need to have him do this either!

There were plenty of other characters that could have essentially done the same exact thing, but Oda chose to have Crocodile, someone who shouldn’t have been on Luffy’s side at all, save his life in the final moment.

Lastly, without a word, Crocodile uses Sables to get Luffy to Law’s ship. He risked his life, faced down the one person who could kill him without a second thought, and sweeps Luffy away to safety without any stated reason at all. In fact, everything he says is deliberately vague. Crocodile doesn’t believe in loyalty, he dumps people if they are weak (see; Alabasta Crocodile vs Luffy desert fight) so his line of “you gotta protect the one you wanna protect! Don’t let them have their way!” Feels so out of character. Crocodile has to have a reason for this odd behavior. And no, it doesn’t end there! In the defense of Luffy, Crocodile has an awesome and powerful moment where he stands in unity with all the Whitebeard commanders. HIS ENEMIES. Crocodile stands in unity with the people, he himself stated he hated more than anything, for Luffy!

These are the moments that alerted people to what would soon be called the Crocomom theory, now called Crocodad. But just because it began there doesn't mean there wasn't foreshadowing from before Marineford.

Let's go over all of that now:

First to talk about is once again Crocodile's crew. Miss Father's Day debuted in episode 124 of the anime and chapter 205 of the manga. She has a green amphibian theme to her, which is interesting because she is a woman with the moniker Father's Day while also having a theme of an animal that is famous for being able to change its gender. Her debut episode even has her introduced along with the reveal that Luffy's using his blood to fight Crocodile.

The next point is something Oda has never explained. Crocodile has strange relationships with children. From hiring a sixteen-year-old Miss Goldenweek, leaving her out of the Mr. 3 assassination order, and her history of actually sinking Crocodile's ships before getting hired, all the way to how Crocodile lectured Luffy in their fight. It just had the cadence of a parent. Not even Luffy's parent, just a parent. He lectures like someone who has experience with children.

Next, Luffy does not look like Dragon. That is a direct quote from Luffy in the manga. But you know who he does look like?

That's right! Luffy looks a lot like Crocodile. If you need more convincing on this, there is a great post by Dashevacotton that puts together many of the best canon pictures of Luffy dressed up like Crocodile. That post is here!

Crocodile and Luffy are incredibly similar. Not just in looks, but in personality, and in their general life.

These two have so much in common. From having a way with animals, to the amount of unadulterated loyalty they've inspired in their crews, all the way to the cadence of their speech.

Crocodile and Luffy even have a similarly goofy reaction to seeing the underground passage to the Alabasta Poneglyph.

Episode 123, episode time 13:16 Crocodile spots the entrance and laughs, "Ha, now I see secret stairs." Also in episode 123, episode time 20:47 Luffy looks around and spots the secret stairs. "That hole... it looks gator-ish."

Even what we know of Crocodile's backstory is that he had a rapid rise to fame just like Luffy by being a rookie who came in and beat down non-canon characters like Douglas Bullet to the shock of the world.

Next, let's bring up an earlier point: Oda-sensei is a mega troll.

This isn't exactly new information, Oda once deflected to bringing up a dick fight instead of answering if Zoro or Sanji was stronger. He is a Troll. He loves wordplay, and he likes to hint hint nudge nudge us all day long. Just look at Oda having Sanji call himself a prince in Alabasta as a joke, only to realize years later that he actually was a prince.

It's because of Oda's tendency to play around and make knowing jokes we've gotten some pretty compelling evidence for the Crocodad theory.

First would be the wordplay!

-Crocodile is closely linked to a Bananawani-> Monkeys like Banana -> Monkey D. Dragon is a reptilian Monkey attracted to Banana reptile. Fight me - A 'crocodile smile' is a term most often used to mean a fake or ingenuine smile. Crocodile's scar has been liked to look like a 'crocodile smile', which would mean Crocodile is the only character that always has a smile on his face. What a fun bit of wordplay to foreshadow the birth parent of Joyboy!

Then there is this SBS alongside the One Piece School spin-off manga by Sohei Koj.

What a great way to get out of revealing Luffy's parentage without actually revealing it!

And of course, we have the One Piece Mafia Theatre episode of the anime.

Oda would certainly make this canon just because of his troll tendencies. This is a hilarious theory because the story supports it yet only a fringe group believes in it. It's hilarious and therefore it's probably true.

Lastly, the symbolism makes this theory truly great.

I've already mentioned how Crocodile's scar being a 'crocodile smile' and thus giving him a permanent smile on his face would make him the most meaningful candidate for Luffy's birth parent. Joyboy, our Sun God Nika, was born from a man with a permanent fake smile; who is also named after an animal with the world's biggest smile.

It's just such a perfect setup, it makes my writer's heart swell.

Since Oda has stated a mother in One Piece would stop the adventure, it would fit that the first major villain in the Grandline to try and stop Luffy's adventure ended up being the man who gave birth to Luffy.

If we are going to speak of symbolism, I'd be remiss not to mention what a crocodile spiritually symbolizes. I really don't think I need to explain why adaptability, creation, ambiguity, and duality mean so much to this theory.

This theory could die or be confirmed any day now that we've entered a God's Valley flashback. I will love it either way but truly, honestly, I believe this. I hope I convinced a few of you to. If you are interested in the succinct list of Crocodad evidence that post is Here!

So in conclusion...

Crocodad is canon!

#one piece fandom #one piece #sir crocodile #anime #dadodile #monkey d luffy #fan theory #until the oda plops luffys mom in front of me i will believe this theory #theories #there is literally no other explanation for marineford without dadodile #luffy literally looks like crocodile #not a crack theory #long reads #long post

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radioisntdead · 9 days

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I don't know if you do parental asks, but if you do, could you bless me eyes by writing a father Alastor and child!reader who is a toy/doll demon? Reader is hyperactive but very clumsy so Alastor always has to keep an eye on her so she doesn't hurt herself and sometimes he resorts to having one of his shadows watching over her if he's busy. Reader is small so they always seem to get stuck in cabinets or closet, which scares the hotel residents when they see Reader in a random place. [Not me trying to cure my daddy issues] 😂😂

Good evening my dear! I've been expecting someone to request a parental Alastor, [No seriously I have, I had a feeling someone was gonna request it, it was only a matter of time] I'VE BEEN READY FOR THIS, Not to mention I'm related to a hyperactive child so taking inspo from that! (Please help me he bites)

Father! Alastor & child! Reader

Platonic, obviously.

Warnings!!!

Fanon, I'm going fanon for this, mild cannibalism, feral, reader is based off a porcelain doll but I am TERRIFIED of porcelain dolls, anyways feral reader, injuries etc etc Alastor scooped reader up from the side of the street, I like how I've had every parental hazbin character with a child figure reader just scoop them off the street, I should draw that later

No one knows how exactly how you ended up below, it was theorized that there was probably a mix-up or maybe you were one of those deranged child serial killers or maybe you WERE hellborn that just aged really slow, like concerningly slow, but from some of the things you say it was suspected you were indeed a sinner.

Anyways that's up to you to figure out, but what we do know is that Alastor stumbled upon you absolutely tearing apart a grown sinner in some alleyway, despite looking like a porcelain doll that could break if dropped on carpet, the radio static coming from him caught your attention,

And then you saw those big fluffy ears that sat on the top of his head, you ran towards him with the speed of a feral child, because you were, infact a feral child

"Fluffy!"

You immediately climbed onto him, little hands clinging onto the fabric of his suit before finally reaching for his ears,

He didn't even get a chance to get away from you. With a strained smile he grabbed you off him, and held you up as he inspected you, observing your appearance,

"How peculiar, don't do that."

He said as you continued reaching for his fluffy ears.

And that had sealed his fate, he could NOT get rid of you,

He left you back in that alley he found you? You showed up again two minutes later, he sent you into the Vee's tower? You are the reason Valentino has a messed up antenna.

Alastor became a father against his will, and honestly it could've been worse, you were a decently chaotic child, that would either follow him around or when in the hotel would climb up his back and play with his fluffy ears while maniacally whispering

"fluffy, fluffy, fluffy, fluffy"

"Dear, please get off me."

Your skin was covered in a light porcelain coating, like thin wax covering soft clay, If thrown harshly against something you could crack and bleed, it wouldn't make that much of a sound.

you were very much a fragile thing and as your reluctant caretaker Alastor made sure that you stayed out of trouble, safe and sound, and away from any sharp objects.

Unfortunately you were hellbent on getting into mischief, especially in the hotel where there were many things you could get into, like behind the bar where husk worked, He took a five minute break to grab something to eat and you had managed to slip yourself behind several bottles inside the cabinet, one wrong move and they all fall to the ground and shatter with the alcoholic beverages inside them,

He had to take out twenty bottles, place them on the counter then take you out, gently place you on the ground then put all the bottles back, it was a hassle, not to mention you had a thing for fluffy things, Husk was NOT an exception, if he wasn't paying attention you would claw your way up his back like a feral mongoose and just gently pet his ears while mumbling "Kitty cat, kitty cat kitty cat kitty ca-"

You got along well with Niffty, she was like a sadistic older sister but it was decided that she was a bad influence on you so whenever you're near her it needs to be supervised by someone.

You give Charlie mini heart attacks because either you'll be the sweetest little thing towards her, you'll draw with her, call her 'Big sister Charlie' or something like that and you will have her wrapped around your little fingers, or you'll be a source of stress because your playing on the railing and oops! Your falling twelve feet to the ground and she's rushing over to catch you, and after she catches you, probably breaking something in the process you just give her the biggest smile as you hug her saying she caught you, you've also terrified her and Vaggie more then once by hiding underneath their bed and popping out at the worst of times with confetti or something.

Speaking of Vaggie you had a similar relationship but she was more strict in a way, she has a soft spot for kids and she keeps an eye on you, she'll teach you how to spar as an attempt to burn any excess energy you have, she'll go for a run and take you with her, she'll have you on one of those child leashes because you can, will and have run into the road and almost got taken out, respawning was a very very painful process, it was like getting ripped apart, turned inside out, twisted and turned back out and put together again, there's a reason it can take time for a sinner to respawn.

A child like you should never have to deal with that, and Vaggie, while she can't respawn she understands and will prevent you from having too, Alastor may not like her all that much (Or at all) but she's proven to be a decent babysitter.

Sir Pentious was like a goofy older brother or that dork of a cousin, he'd probably invent something to entertain you or he'd read to you, you scare eggs out of him when he's working on something and BAM you pop up out of nowhere, the majority of the eggs were fearful of you too.

"uh, can you not bite me?" A egg asked as your unhinged jaw munched on him, slowly tearing away until he eventually cracked leaving you to run away from the yolk covered crime scene.

[He's the first person you go to when you are redeemed, a familiar face is what you need in an unknown place where you should've gone in the first place, the halo on your head makes him cry, you made it with him but that more then likely means you perished like he did]

Angel dust was no different from the others, he tones his language down a bunch but he's still Angel dust, a inappropriate joke can and will slip through the cracks but he doesn't mean any harm, he just panics and tells you not to tell your Pa, giving you some child-safe candy in return and if your running around like a manic Niffty he'll pick you up and try to find the more responsible residents, or you'd tug on his fluff, he was one of the fluffiest residents and that made him, a major target for your lil' grabby hands, if you ever want a snack your not supposed to have he'll give it to you, you want ice cream? Sure knock yourself out kid, He reminded you of someone you knew once.

What did they look like again? You couldn't remember..

When Alastor steps out of the hotel to go to a overlord meeting or whatever he does and no one is available to watch you, he'll have his shadows watch over you,

His shadows need a pay raise.

"I'll be back in a few hours, be good dear!" Alastor said patting you lightly on the head as you grinned up at him,

"Alrighty! Bye Papa!"

You wave as he leaves, as the door closes you turn around and wander around the hotel, everyone was busy preparing for something, you didn't quite know what yet though, but you were left to your own devices today! You ran up and down the staircases, you got a laundry basket and used it as a makeshift snowboard on the staircase which Alastor's shadow had to make sure it didn't fling up into the air, you jumped off a counter his shadow grabbed the collar of your shirt to stop you from face planting.

You eventually get bored of playing around and try to find Niffty to ask if she could make you something to eat but the hotel's resident housekeeper is nowhere to be found, so you enter the kitchen and it is a DANGER ZONE, you knew not to touch the stove or the sharp knives thankfully but that didn't stop you from dragging over a chair to climb up into the cabinet to grab a plate, a few cups falling in the process but the shadow caught them before they could shatter into the floor, You hopped down from the chair to get a tortilla, the shadow stood next to you ready to grab you if needed, you waddled over to the refrigerator and took out a pack of bacon bites and sour cream, you acquired a plastic knife to spread the sour cream onto the tortilla, sprinkling some bacon bits after before rolling it up and placing it onto the plate.

You grinned at your snack, this is what defined your childhood, you turn back to the refrigerator to grab a juicebox before taking the plate and booking it back into the main room of the hotel.

You sneakily made your way to the TV and looked around, you gave the shadow a 'shh' motion as you turned on the tv to vintage cartoons, like Popeye, Betty boop or if you were lucky to access more modern cartoons, you could watch Scooby doo!

This was the time Alastor's shadow could rest from protecting you, so it wouldn't snitch to Alastor about your consumption of cartoons.

It wished you would watch more cartoons because after your snack you were dangling from the chandelier! You didn't know how you even got up there?!

When Alastor finally returned from wherever he was you immediately ran, tackling the Radio demon in a hug, Alastor's smile tightened slightly but he bared with it, you were just an excited child that he cared for, like a pet.

"I take it you were behaved while I was away?"

You nodded, "Yep!"

The shadow would say otherwise because you were HANGING FROM THE CHANDELIER FOR AN HOUR, They had to lurk around in case you fell, which you did, Thankfully they didn't have to catch you, because Charlie had emerged at the right time to catch you as you dropped from the chandelier.

But Alastor didn't need to know that right now, he'll find out on his own when he's making dinner and he goes to check on you to see you dangling from the chandelier again with Angel and Husk scrambling beneath trying to catch you if you were to slip and fall.

"Aren't you a little troublemaker?" He would say as he snapped his fingers and you were brought down from the chandelier, safe and sound, he'd bring a clawed hand to your face as he gently pitched your check, tutting like a old lady before turning around and bringing you to assist him in the kitchen and give huskerdust a break.

Alastor didn't see himself ever having a child before you, and he could see you growing into a powerful overlord one day, he'd be there to guide you as you grew, you would've grown up loved, watching as sinners entered the hotel and left as saints,

For now you were standing behind him in the kitchen carefully mixing rolling out some type of dough as music played from the radio and you told your Papa about your day.

Once the dough was rolled out and cut Alastor pat your head saying that you did a good job before moving to dip the dough into hot oil, as you watched, a tentacle holding the back of your 1930's themed attire making sure you didn't dive into the oil by accident.

Within the hour you were sat at a table with freshly made beignets Infront of you,

"Enjoy!"

"Thank you Papa!"

You said before digging into one of the beignets as Alastor smiled per usual, it was a nice treat, you liked moments like these, you hoped you could stay in the hazbin hotel with it's residents and your Papa forever, they were your family and family stays together right?

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! I was supposed to post this last night but I passed out, and We may be adopting a dog soon! I'm not using that as an excuse I'm just excited, anyways I'm working on requests, part twos and all that good stuff! Tune on in for that later on!

Also I may have added sprinkles of angst here but we don't talk about that =]

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor & reader

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coralinnii · 8 months

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❋ If you’re a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋

↳Reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy part 2

feat: Rook

genre: drama, slow burn romance, smitten fools,

note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy Rook ver., historical fantasy setting, sculptor!reader, reader is referred to as “Ma artiste” and “Mon amour” by Rook, no pronouns used with the reader, mentions of beast hunting, 1.8k word count

While it refers to fictional beasts, this touches the controversial topic on hunting which can be sensitive to people. I’m not trying to claim that my own opinions or the opinions in this fic are right and you can have a stance against these opinions. Despite the controversy, I still decided to add this into the story because this world is supposed to mirror the era when this was practiced by people of the time and with Rook as a canonical huntsman, this fits the story well.

I choose to be transparent that this topic will be in this fic and if you are uncomfortable, you are free to ignore this story because I would rather you decide your comfort levels than have people read my story.

Random note: when my laptop died, all my banners are gone so yea…I changed my character banners again

series masterlist

To your dismay, you found yourself facing the consequences for the actions of an obsessive character that convinced the famous knight Rook Hunt to be your fiancé.

Begging the Hunt family, you managed to settle a deal to repay the dowry the Hunt family paid to annul the engagement, since losing this engagement would cost their side more than yours.

Thankfully, the era of this world was the rising age of artistic revolution and the aristocracy was itching to find the newest trend of beauty and creative innovation, which you enthusiastically took as an opportunity to build your name in the field of art as a sculptor, starting off with simple desk ornaments to breathtaking statues.

Perhaps it was your silver lining that your still fiance Rook was a well-known admirer of all things beautiful as with his keen eyes, your sculptures stood out among others due to the added details of your subjects that your fiance pointed out as you work. You were confident in your skills but you owe it to Rook for enhancing the realism in your sculptures.

Initially, guilt ate away at your conscience for not only the forceful engagement you placed upon the knight (even if you weren’t directly responsible) but for also taking his help with your commissions without any benefits to himself. But the green-eyed man did not ever allow you to dwell in such thoughts.

“Non, ma artiste! Your works of art are the fruits of your passion and hard work that cannot be replicated. I may have given some notes here and there but the beauty of each masterpiece you created can only be brought out from your skillful hands.”

Rook smiled as he held your hands, still dirtied with bits of dried clay. The gaze of his bright green makes you feel somewhat self-conscious. You were a noble but you must have ruined the softness of your skin due to your long hours of work and stress. You tried to pull your hands back in embarrassment but your fiance held them firmly in his own gloved pair.

“Every scar, blemish, and crack is a show of your strength, mon amour. I could get lost tracing the lovely lines of your hands if you allow me.”

No matter how many others have praised you or your work, you couldn’t help the unique warmth in your heart that only appears when Rook sings them. But you chalk it up to your body reacting from old feelings held by the original character. It must be, right?

Your commissions have thankfully slowed down enough to give you a well needed break. You were curious to what might taking up the attention of the nobility right now which was how you learned about the bi-annual “Hunt of the Beasts” event.

You were initially terrified to learn the existence of magical beasts in this world and the danger that resides in the dense forests and mountainous lands that borders the kingdom. In order to maintain the beast population for the safety of the people and resources, the imperial family hosts an extravagant event for the knights and local mercenaries in the kingdom to vanquish the beasts. Some may call it barbaric or cruel, but for the safety of the villages and farms that reside near these beasts’ territories, it was an unfortunate necessity that is at least maintained by the imperial family to avoid excessive hunting that disrupts the delicate balance of the population.

Rook was a frequent participant of the hunt and of course he was going to be a participant. Typically, partners of the participants would attend the event as spectators waiting by the designated zones among other visitors. However, you were too new to this world and this will be the first hunt for you where you will surely come across images you weren’t sure you were prepared for.

Giant beasts…even thinking of their corpses. It’s too overwhelming.

You expressed your discomfort with Rook and despite his experience as a seasoned participant, offered words of understanding to you. The knight suggested that you could sit out from the event and he could explain to any curious busybody that you were not feeling well.

Once again, Rook warmed your heart with his words but there was some guilt still left behind within you. Despite the loveless engagement, Rook has wholeheartedly supported you in your passion and your work despite his own inexperience in the field, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept something that he as a knight and huntsman took pride in. You allowed your fear win over and it left a bitter feeling in your heart.

The day has finally arrived and the dense forest that bordered the kingdom was busy with attendees of all status. Many have come to join to spectate and support the brave men and women who have trained to battle the dangerous beasts that lurk within the land that was darkened by wild greenery. Aides from the imperial palace watched over the event as participants were informed of the rules of the hunts; what to expect, what to capture, and what to avoid lest they choose to face punishment.

Rook surveyed his surroundings as he finished his last preparations. He saw both familiar faces and newcomers that hope to make a name for themselves today. Tents were filled with important families and even visiting guests from nearby lands either to observe or participate themselves. But he doesn’t see a glimpse of your figure.

Not that he expected it. He respected your choice not to attend the event. It could be that he has become too desensitized by the presence of beasts and monsters due to his work that he has forgotten how frightening it could be for a civilian to witness them in person.

Maybe during his hunt, he could find some wild flowers to bring back to you when he visits you later. Would you feel better if he did? You had such a conflicted expression on your face last he saw you so maybe a bouquet of rare flowers could brighten your mood, even bring you some inspiration for your art. Would you feel grateful, perhaps even smile for him as you call his name in appreciation…

“Rook.”

Ah, he could even hear you right now.

“Rook?”

A rare occurance, Rook was actually spooked to suddenly feel your presence behind him. The blonde knight did not sense you standing there, with him…at the Hunt of the Beasts.

“Mon amour, you surprised me!” His green eyes almost couldn’t believe it. “I thought you’d chose not to attend this year.”

To be fair, you’re surprised yourself. The whole idea of this event still feels unreal to you and your fear of witnessing something you’re not mentally ready for is still there. Even so…

“I want to support you, like you always have with me” you whispered shyly but Rook could clearly hear your voice at this distance. He then saw in your hands a small woven charm bracelet, a common blessing given to participants like him.

During the Hunt of the Beasts, traditions came about among the participants and non-participants. Those who participated in the hunt would offer their game as an offering to their lover as a show of devotion and strength to protect them from harm. In addition, non-participants could give a blessed items to the participant of their choice as a show of admiration or to wish them safety during the hunt.

You noticed the knight’s gaze and you felt more nervous than before. As this was your first attendance, this was also the first time offering a blessing to someone. When you told your servant you were going to the hunting event, he graciously gave you a woven bracelet and suggested that you offer it to your “lover”, much to your embarrassment.

But then you noticed the knight more closely and saw that he already had a number of bracelets and ribbons peeking out from his left arm sleeve. You supposed despite his eccentricity, Rook was still a very talented knight and quite attractive to people of all social status. Even if he was technically a taken man, this did not stop admirers from showing favour towards him with blessed charms and ribbons.

Mortified, you tried to hide the small bracelet as you put on a smile. “Since it was tradition, I thought I should bring you something but I should have guessed that you would have plenty of blessings from others. Adding more would probably be burdensome-“

You flinched slightly when you felt your hands being captured by another pair. You saw Rook’s gloved hands stopping your own but he had such an unreadable look in his eyes that you couldn’t tell what was on his mind.

“Rook?” The call of his name seemed to have woken him from his trance as Rook quickly gave you a smile before he spoke.

“Mon amour, I would be honoured to receive your blessing.” Releasing his grip on you, Rook removed the glove on his right hand where unlike his counterpart hand, was empty. “Would you please place it upon me?”

Nodding your head, you gently wrapped the woven bracelet around Rook’s wrist, careful not to tighten the knot too much since this was Rook’s dominant hand. You tried not to think too much about how he allowed your blessing and only yours on his right hand and not with the rest on his non-dominant hand.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” you tried to focus on something else and rested your eyes on Rook’s hand. It was not often you see it as the blonde-haired man tends to wear gloves as part of his uniform but you could see the rough calluses and scars littered about his fingers and palm. The skin of his hand was smoother than you expected (probably due to his friendship with the Schoenheit heir) but you can tell how hard Rook must have trained to be as skilled as he was today. How diligent this man is which earned the respect of many. While caressing his warm hand, you absentmindedly echoed the words he once spoke to you.

“Every scar, blemish, and crack is a show of your strength…How beautiful.”

Realizing what you just said aloud, you quickly let go of Rook’s hand before rushing to create distance between the two of you (when did you get so close to begin with?!).

“There, all done!” you did your best to hide your embarrassment with a smile. “I’ll be in one of the tents until the hunt is over. I wish you luck!”

With a quick bow, you rushed into a tent that was open, too flustered to look back and face your fiance.

A shame, really. Because you missed the opportunity to see a rare image of Rook with a rosy shade blooming across his cheeks and ears.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #rook hunt #twst rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #villainess au

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utdr-stimming · 4 months

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"This stim board is Pissing me off...

I'm the original Starwalker"

The Original Starwalker stim board!!! (Happy New Year!)

x x x

x :) x

x x x

#deltarune #stim board #the original starwalker #starwalker #starwalker deltarune #yellow stim #star stim #bell stim #clay cracking #sparkle stim #squishy stim #light stim #marker stim #new year #2024 #❤️deltarune stim #❤️character stim #Spotify #tw hands

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initforthelolzz · 11 months

Text

No one does queer representation quite like One Piece.

Allow me to explain in great detail.

I’m going to talk about the queer rep in Impel Down, and you’d best buckle up cause it’s rant time.

Impel Down is one of my favorite arcs because I love the story line, it’s downright hilarious, and Luffy’s struggle to rescue Ace is incredibly compelling.

But there is another reason why I love Impel Down so much, and that’s the queer rep that utterly knocked me off my feet.

Now, I’ve come to accept that queer representation in anime (not touching on any other media in this rant) is generally nonexistent or extremely rare… if you’re watching anything other than a BL.

On the rare occasion that we do find some LGBT rep it is usually extremely subtle, and shown exclusively in convoluted subtext and minuscule details that are easily overlooked. While this representation is so incredibly meaningful to everyone who’s able to pick it out, the subtly makes it all the more easy for homophobes to argue that it was never in the first place.

Keeping all this in mind, I finally picked up One Piece several months ago after refusing to watch it for a long-assed time (It was too long and I thought the art style was weird. Dear god have I eaten my words.) I’d heard on social media that One Piece was big on trans representation, but I wasn’t prepared at ALL for what I’d find in that department.

I had NOT expected to find One Piece’s treasure trove of LGBT characters in Impel Down of all pleases, and the shock factor made it so much better.

The arc had already been chaotic as fucking hell by the time Luffy reunited with Bon Clay, and their reunion made me tear up. Like dude!

I hadn’t been particularly attached to Bon Clay before but THIS ^ was it. This scene right here, he wormed his way into my heart istfg.

Can we appreciate this scene please?! The sparkles in the background?? The leg lifting?! The REUNION HUG?!?! I love this so dearly not just because it’s fucking ADORABLE but because of what it *says.*

Bon Clay is an outwardly queer character, and Luffy absolutely adores him. Those two are best friends and we treat queer people with respect and they are good people. We can be friends with them and allies with them and they aren’t something to shy away from just because they’re different.

Be fucking for real. The representation is so positive, and it never ceases to blow me away.

If you thought that this representation was enough YOU WERE WRONG because this BARELY SCRATCHED THE SURFACE.

Iva. Emperio Ivankov. The Queen of the Queers. He is a gender fluid ICON and a literal drag queen. His special attack is a wink that blows shit up. His Devil Fruit ability is quite literally hormone therapy.

Do I need to say more?

THATS RIGHT, I FUCKING DONT

Now, this is One Piece we’re talking about, so naturally characters are going to be wildly exaggerated but ARE YOU KIDDING

IVA’S ABILITY IS HORMONE THERAPY. HE CHANGES PEOPLE’S GENDER AS AN ATTACK. HIS POWER WORKS THROUGH SYRINGE NEEDLES THAT POP OUT FROM UNDER HIS ACRYLIC NAILS.

I love Iva so fucking much words cannot describe 😭

Oda didn’t just say “look, I made a queer character” he really said “fuck it, nuclear option it is.” It is literally impossible to ignore the fact that Iva is LGBT, and One Piece’s queer rep is SO IN YOUR FACE, especially in Impel Down. It’s impossible to ignore, which is the stark opposite from the usual business with “implied” queer characters in anime.

Implied? HAH.

There is a kingdom of gay people living INSIDE THE WALLS of the biggest prison in the world. They are led by a gender fluid drag queen and run a strip club bar in the middle of a fucking prison, where they drag new gays through the cracks in the walls to join them.

Dude.

I love One Piece so much.

All joking aside, the introduction of Iva and his kingdom of gays drove me to tears. Like deadass. The representation literally drove me to tears, I was sobbing.

Why? Because it was so positive.

Do you know how meaningful that is?

It made me fucking cry, man.

Iva’s speech introducing his gay kingdom, like goddamn. I can’t even remember exactly what he said because I was crying the whole time.

“We’re here and we’re queer.” That’s a quote from fucking One Piece, dude. I can’t, I can’t.

It wasn’t just the introduction of Iva’s kingdom or the LITERAL LESBIAN COUPLE SITTING AT THE BAR, it was the way the sense of community was presented.

We’re called the LGBTQ Community and I don’t know if Oda’s a member or not but HOT damn if he doesn’t know what it means to be a part of it.

I’m talking about the Luffy situation. He fought the Warden and got his ass handed to him. He was poisoned to all hell and about to die at 17 but Bon picked him up and carried him to Iva’s Kingdom. He’s wanted to meet Iva his whole life but by the time he did he was more worried about Luffy’s condition than anything else.

And then we find out that Luffy had insisted that Bon get medical treatment before he did. What a guy. When Iva got Luffy, he said that it was a lost cause to try and overcome the poison. But he was willing to give it a try anyway.

Let’s discuss.

Iva injected Luffy with hormones to help him beat the poison. Luffy underwent hormone therapy. (I will cling to this tidbit of information forever, YOU CANT TAKE IT FROM ME.) When Bon woke up, he demanded to see Luffy.

Iva warned him about what he would find, but brought Bon to Luffy at his request. When Bon found Luffy, he found his friend chained up and screaming in excruciating pain. We didn’t see Luffy in full at all during this time, but when Bon looked through the door he was horrified.

He got defensive. He started yelling at Iva, saying that the person inside that room was not the Luffy he knew.

Iva was firm, and told Bon that Luffy was going through a tough challenge, and he would be different afterwards, but he was still the same Luffy.

Do you see it? Can you read between the lines? This exchange made me sob all over again. Why? I urge you to think about it, to see the underlying message here.

Bon broke down into tears, realizing that Luffy was fighting for his life. He apologized and took back his harsh words.

Then he spent hours outside Luffy’s cell, screaming till his throat was raw and cheering him on. He couldn’t do anything to help Luffy, Luffy was fighting this battle on his own. But he could be there for him.

I ask you again, do you see it?

As the hours passed, others in Iva’s kingdom trickled out to see what Bon was doing. They told him to stop screaming, that it was useless. They mocked him, told him he was being a fool.

Then Iva stood up for him, and told them to see Bon for what he was doing. He couldn’t help Luffy, but he could cheer him on. He could be there for him.

Within moments, the entire kingdom was outside Luffy’s cell. Cheering him on. Encouraging him. Supporting him. They didn’t know who he was but they saw him fighting and immediately backed him up.

It isn’t just representation, merely the presence of a queer character or even an entire kingdom of gays that makes it meaningful. It’s how those characters are shown, how they behave.

Oda could have thrown in a queer character here and there and left it at that, but he went out of his way to show the incredible support system that this community provided. They jumped to Luffy’s aid. They were so supportive and cheered him on until he beat the poison. They fought alongside him… and you know what else?

When Luffy woke up, he accepted them in a heartbeat. He didn’t question anything, just saw a bunch of people and thought “huh. New friends!”

Oda’s representation is exaggerated as much as it is painstakingly accurate in nature and positive to a tee. Obviously it isn’t perfect. Iva and the squad were still mocked, called “freaks” and “weirdos.”

But it’s about Luffy. How Luffy behaves. How Luffy reacts. Even in the face of how the rest of society views Iva and his kingdom, Luffy sees them as friends and allies and doesn’t give a singular shit if they’re gay or not.

Luffy accepts everyone, and he doesn’t draw the line at queer people. The aroace king himself. You heard it here, Luffy is the ultimate ally.

Of course I’m not even scraping the surface on this topic and Oda’s representation is in no way perfect, but Impel Down remains the greatest example of queer rep that I’ve seen this far.

You gotta give credit where credit is due ✨

#one piece #✨✨✨#rant post #one piece analysis #opinions #hot take #luffy #bon clay #iva #emporio ivankov #monkey d luffy #lgbt representation #ayyyyy #the gays #luffy the ultimate ally

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eywa-eveng · 5 months

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ɪ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ʟᴇғᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ɴᴇʏᴛɪʀɪ & ᴊᴀᴋᴇ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴼᴹᴬᵀᴵᴷᴬᵞᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.2k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – mentions of character death, mentions of war, ptsd, unrequited love

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇ – A bit of a non-linear storyline here, but nothing too confusing.

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ – @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @amiets2 @neteyamforlife @sunrays404 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eternallyvenus @bobojojoba69 @behindthearcane @elegantkidfansoul @ladylovegood-69 @pinkiemme @arminsgfloll @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @onlyreadz @ghost-lantern @calums-betch @crazy4books1 @meladollsims @yeosxxx @sillyfreakfanparty

Light blooms underfoot, swelling and fading like ripples over water as faint syuratan rises to meet the shadows gathering beneath the night sky. The last dregs of amber sunlight pierce through the treetops like arrows, the warm light glowing like a flame behind the silhouetted canopy. The shades of firelight fade to blue darkness as the forest swallows the last whispers of daylight into the darkened horizon. A path towards the clan’s new settlement is carved in pale green light, each step echoed by the glowing moss blanketing the tree limbs. The newly lit plants burn brighter at the slightest touch, flaring as a breeze brushes through the trees, shuffling one leaf against another until entire branches are bright as torchlight. And when the wind settles the air is filled with the sweet taste of nectar, the hanging plants swarmed with insects that fill the night with their buzzing song. There’s always music in the forest, the sounds of life thrumming through the air like the distant voices of a forgotten lullaby. The chittering of nantang and the shrieking of riti, the thundering footfalls of ’angtsìk.

The noises of the night build as the stars begin to dot the sky, swallowing your nearly soundless footfalls as you weave through the foliage, running along the twisted roots bridging the distance between the trees. The ground rushes up to meet you as you jump from the high perch, ears twitching towards a disturbance somewhere nearby that makes your landing sound like stones rolling down a hill, fumbling and clumsy. Loud enough to be worth a closer look as voices begin to break through the foliage, terse with agitation. Your feet are quick enough to catch the tail end of the confrontation.

Hunters. Some mounted and others on foot. A mix of Na’vi and uniltìrantokx, separated by dignity and appearance. The sawtute are easy to parse from trueborn Na’vi, even at a distance. They’re like fiery red blossoms in a sea of yellow flowers, so plainly out of place. Speaking their human language and wearing their human clothes even when most of their kind have long since been banished from Pandora. The night had been clear when they left and a new star bloomed in the darkness, bright as a white flame in the deep blue sky. Most claim not to mourn the loss but others seem less inclined to surrender themselves to the Na’vi way of life. It is clear that the topic of disturbance involves such cultural differences as you creep closer.

Someone cuts a biting remark, gruff and steeped in a thickening accent the more terse their words become. An uniltìrantokx returns the venom-stricken tone with their own heavy accent, Na’vi words sounding as intimidating as a child when spoken on such a foreign tongue. One of the mounted hunters cracks a smile, a sardonic laugh slipping past his lips. These avatars are like humans. Babies that need teaching especially after being so suddenly stripped away from their system of support. There aren’t many of them left in their place of human dwelling. That strange metal cave system that spirals out like the bloated roots of some shimmery plant. These are supposed to be the truly loyal humans. The kind humans left after the rot and ruin of the rest was scraped away. There are kind souls that remain but some are far too stubborn, like clay dug up from a riverbed and left to dry before it was fully molded into shape. They’re stiff and unchanging despite the offers to be taught your ways of life.

It is a fair argument they are having from what you can hear at the fringes of the clearing. The avatars are being far too liberal with their bows. Eager arrows lead to messy kills and there is no reason to cause unneeded suffering for a lack of discipline. An injured animal will run if it is able and sawtute are far less adept at traversing these forests. It would be easy for them to lose their intended kill and leave the animal to suffer with an arrow in its hide. A mounted hunter says as much, pa’li unsteady beneath her, the direhorse churning up dirt beneath her hooves as her rider’s anger is surely reflected through tsaheylu. When the humans have nothing to say back the silence stretches like a rope pulled taut, slowly fraying under the strain until it snaps and the leader of the hunting party gives the gruff order to return home.

The word still sets an ache in your chest like pressing against a bruise, dull and throbbing as “home” has changed shape. You follow in the trail of light left by the hunting party. Not towards Hometree that always stood above the forest like a fist punching towards the sky, but to grounded dwellings flanking the humans’ nearly abandoned home. The hunting party continues on after passing through the newly made village, escorting the avatars back to their massive metal kelku. Their refusal to learn has stunted their ability to be trusted in the forest alone. Truly like children that need to be guided lest they be met with an accident that could’ve been prevented with proper teachings.

The sounds of the forest give way to a din of voices as green syuratan fades to bright orange firelight. It sounds much the same as Kelutral had, conversations mingled with laughter as everyone gathers around cookfires for their nightly meals. It’s far less communial with the separate homes of woven fabrics over wooden frames. Different sizes denoting the size of the family living within. Your own is modestly small, just large enough for one. Truly it was meant for an avatar if they felt more inclined to immerse themselves in village life but it went unused for so long that you took the honor of christening it as your own, sleeping here most days despite having mates of your own and a more homely kelku to return to. It’s been days of careful avoidance despite the olo’eyktan and tsakarem’s greatest efforts to draw you back to their side.

Unexpectedly, it is Jake that has been more insistent rather than Neytiri. That was something you hadn’t thought to consider a possibility. His longing was enough to make you avoid any member of the clan altogether. You’ve shared no more than a few words with anyone in the days since Jake began sending his warriors chasing after your tail in an attempt to coax you back home. They’d come to you bearing gifts of delicate bracelets made with the rarest beads and feathered hair ornaments of the brightest colors, lingering for a moment to ponder over your rejection before trailing back to their leader with a defeated hunch to their shoulders.

The fire you tend to is only just large enough for your purposes. This kelku is set every so slightly apart from the rest and a light flickering at the fringes of the village is sure to draw unneeded attention whether it’s a kind elder sending children to be sure you have enough to eat or another of Jake’s men coming to present you with another of his finely made gifts. His effort is wasted. Pretty adornments aren’t enough to stitch the wound that’s been scored across your very soul. So much has happened in so little time. So quickly that you were hardly given a moment to mourn. Even as the days fall away to the past with the rise and fall of the sun it still feels like a wound is festering in your heart, refusing to heal as old memories poke and prod, stinging in the back of your mind. No, a new necklace or freshly made arrows won’t be enough to soothe the pain you’re suffering. Everyone might have begun to move on, picking up the fragments of what was left behind to rebuild something new, something better, but you stayed there. Every night, in your dreams, the sky is raining ash and the People are screaming.

The hunger leaves you as the taste of salt invades your mouth, memories of uncounted tears souring your appetite. The small fire is snuffed and the food is set aside with the intention to eat it should you wake with hunger pangs in the dead of night. Sleep has been an elusive thing in the time since the fall of Hometree. Something terrifying as your mind reminds you of the pain and betrayal. Over and over. And there is no place of solace to return to. No Utral Aymokriyä where you might hear some shred of happiness from those that have gone before you. Everything has been torn apart and reknit in a new shape and the only one that seems to truly notice the strangeness of it all is you. But life must go on. A tree does not stop growing when clouds cover the sun.

Sleep is expectedly fitful, full of stuttered moments of jolted wakefulness that find your cheeks wet with tears. And when the hour is bright enough that you can banish any attempts at resting you rise and pad off into the pinkish light of dawn, nibbling on your cold dinner as you trail off into the forest before the rest of the village has time to wake. As usual there is no direction to your walking, no destination in mind. The only thought is to be away from the village and all the people that seem so foreign to you now. Not only are there more humans and avatars mingling with the People but even those that you were once close to seem to have a different face. And that is only those that remain. The rest were lost, gone to a place you can only reach in short grasping moments.

Home is far away, in distance and in feeling. The new settlement feels nothing like home even as the clan has begun to rebuild. So many ancestral pieces were lost in the fall of Hometree. Totems and precious items passed down and preserved between the generations of the Omatikaya. Once you could touch something and know that hundreds of hands, long before your time, had touched the same place. Your favorite had been the wooden looms worn soft and smooth by the gentle hands of weavers that passed their craft down to their children and to their children until the knowledge found its way into your hands. All the memories since the time of the First Songs that had survived in the safety of Hometree, gone in an instant. Everything that the Omatikaya clan was, washed away like footprints in sand.

Now these trees seem so foreign as you traverse through the morning light. In moving to settle closer to the humans’ dwelling the clan has been distanced from the lands you’ve known since birth. Hometree may have fallen but the estrangement seems unnecessary. Maybe to fledgling eyes the forest looks the same but here there are plants that didn’t grow close to Hometree. You’d grown up learning every patch of ferns and every bed of flowers and now you’d need to learn it all again. New berries that prefer the unfiltered sunlight where the humans cleared the trees away and new landmarks to lead you from one place to another in the sprawling forest. Moving was necessary but Jake chose not to claim a new Hometree for the clan and as olo’eyktan his word has become law. With Eytukan and Tsu’tey gone the burden of leading the clan has fallen to Toruk Makto. So strange that only a year ago he hadn’t even existed and now he is leading the People as if he was born to bear the honor when he only just passed his iknimaya.

The ground is cold underfoot, drops of dew seeping into your skin and sending shivers up your back. The feeling is enough to keep your mind steady, to keep the memories at bay. On any given day you’re likely to slip into the past and be lost in your own mind, like a vision from a Spirit Tree. It seems memories are all you have as comfort as of late. With so much change, the past is the only thing that has remained steady. In your mind you can pretend that Hometree still stands, that Jake never arrived to complicate everything. But he has and here you stand, lonely in a foreign corner of the forest, wishing desperately that you were able to unravel the knot that’s been made of your life. What is so wrong with you that you can’t find happiness in the peace that’s been made now that the humans have been defeated. One war has ended and yet another wages inside you with no end in sight.

The loneliness eats away at you but the alternative of acceptance seems so wholly unappealing, like eating a spoiled fruit. Resigning yourself to the same budding happiness the clan has been enjoying in the time since the final battle against the humans seems so strange after nearly a lifetime of fighting and uncertainty. Humans were on Pandora long before you were born and your childhood was spent in Grace’s schoolhouse with the looming threat of the tenuous bonds slowly fraying as the humans took more liberties with the lands that were not theirs to pillage and destroy.

A sound rustles in the trees behind you, a soft brushing of leaves that could be nothing more than a breeze through the underbrush, but your bow is drawn towards the sound in an instant. The tension balled like a fist around your heart eases as a familiar face emerges through the foliage, but doesn’t abate completely as Jake steps into the light. His steps are slow and deliberate as if he were approaching a wounded animal but you hiss at her even still, embarrassed that you’d been so distracted in your thoughts that you lost track of your surroundings. Had you been paying attention you would’ve caught his scent before he made a sound. The same scent that’s always clung to Neytiri’s skin because she favors cooking with firewood that is more fragrant than most, making her food a hint sweeter when she eats it. It’s a smell that used to offer comfort but now it’s only the wisp of another memory that was burned to ash the moment Jake arrived to the clan.

What would’ve changed if it hadn’t been you and Neytiri tasked with teaching him? Perhaps you wouldn’t have found yourself tangled in a mating bond shared between three people. A crowd compared to the traditional two.

“What do you want?” You ask, lowering your bow even as your voice still bristles with hostility.

Jake stalls in his approach. “What did I do, baby? What’s wrong?” In the time since he took up the mantle as olo’eyktan, Jake has begun to fully immerse himself in the ways of the People with more vigor than he had even before the fall of Hometree. He speaks in Na’vi when he can manage it but slips back into English when his tongue trips over an unknown word. But one word he’s never let go of is “baby.” A human term of endearment–not just a word for a newborn child–he’d explained once. Like yawne or paskalin it’s meant to show affection between mates. And despite that being what you are to each other you feel unsettled by the innocent word.

He takes a step closer that you reward with your own backwards retreat. His brows pinch, ears drooping as his hands reach out as if he can bridge the gap between you with a simple touch. You’re worlds away from each other even as he stands so close.

An uniltìrantokx, an alien. A human wearing the false face of one of the People. Yet he is also Na’vi, a son of the Omatikaya. He bears the title of olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto. He’s so close and yet so far. Once you would’ve met him in the middle, your hand reaching toward him. But now, knowing what he’s done…. Forgiveness is the farthest thing from your mind. Whatever friendship, whatever affection you’d once had for him has burned away to an aching emptiness. And even before it had begun to slowly unravel, thread by thread, breaking apart until you were left with a tenuous bond at best. Before Jake, before Sylwanin’s death, Neytiri had been yours. You understood her duty to the clan following her sister’s death. It was not her desire to become tsakarem, no nobility in the decision being made for her at the hands of the sawtute. Killing and taking with no remorse. She was betrothed to Tsu’tey and you accepted it as the way of things.

Jake’s introduction to the clan had been tumultuous at best, but as Neytiri’s closest companion you found yourself joining in on their lessons. And watching her fall in love with someone that wasn’t you. At least, with Tsu’tey there had only been friendship. A mutual agreement to not disappoint the clan’s expectations despite their hearts belonging to another. With Jake, she had no such reservations. Neytiri loved him. Loves him. Yet she can’t let you go. Neither of them can. So now it is your time to do as duty suggests, even if your heart aches with the effort to pretend to accept Jake into your heart for all he is, for all he’s done. Banishing the humans from Pandora after so many years of suffering might’ve been enough for others, but when you look at him you see flames.

“Everything you touch is destroyed.” The words slip out unbidden, before you can stop the bitterness from leaking off your lips and Jake stills as if you’ve struck him. The shock only lasts for a moment before he’s rushing towards you, arm winding around your waist as his four-fingered hand cups your cheek. The tears are unexpected as he wipes the wetness from your eyes. When did you start to cry? So long ago, truly. It seems the tears never stop, only taking brief moments of reprieve before stinging at your eyes once more. It feels like you’re being shattered, a river crystal smashed against a rock as glittering shards fly in every direction. Impossible to collect and rebuild. But Jake tries, so desperate does he seem to want to hold you together in his arms even as you come apart at the seams. You fight against him. Hissing and clawing like a hunted animal trying to preserve its life. Some innate piece of your mind knowing that a man like him is dangerous.

Sawtute. Uniltìrantokx. The words are synonymous with death and the unknown. And Jake has proved that no matter how close you become, friends can turn to enemies in the blink of an eye. Lovers can turn to strangers. Happiness can wither into a type of sadness that never dissipates. Still, Jake tries to keep you together in his arms. Whispering and pleading, trying to soothe your sobbing. So long have you spent simply walking forward, one step at a time with only brief moments to think about how far you’ve come. But with those few words you’ve turned back to see all that was left behind and it’s tearing away at you.

The ground is cold beneath your knees, the chill shivering through you as you fall. Jake hasn’t let you go, still keeping his arms around you as if you’ll turn to ash if he looks away for even a moment. Perhaps you will and wouldn’t it be better if you did? What is left for you now after so much has been taken? Everything has been stripped away. Friends, family. The few things that you thought would always be yours. Gone in an instant.

You try to speak through the thickness in your throat, voice rough as stone when the words finally come out. “Get away.” Jake doesn’t seem to hear you but you say it again and again as you struggle to your feet. “Get away! Get away from me!”

All you want is for things to be as they were. But you’re longing for a life you’ve never gotten to live. The humans were here long before you were. You’ve never known a life where they weren’t lingering just out of sight, corrupting your home to fit their alien desires. It burns in your chest, this desire to return to some semblance of normalcy and the knowing that everything in your life has always been precarious, balanced on the edge of a cliff. It seems that now you’ve finally fallen and there’s no knowing what will meet you at the bottom. Jake wants to catch you. You can see the desperation in his eyes as he tries to hold you, hear it in his voice as he begs you to stay with him.

You’re here in mind and body, but your soul feels like it’s been gone for so long. Left behind in the smoldering remains of Hometree, left behind on the battlefield. Now you’ve only been living because you hadn’t truly died. And everyone has been pretending you’re still the same as you were. Jake is pretending you’re still the same woman he met all those months ago. Had it truly been a year since an ignorant dreamwalker had come stumbling into Hometree? He’d been nothing then. A new kind of uniltìrantokx that needed to be studied. A warrior in a new, untrained body. A chore for Neytiri as Mo’at dictated that it would be her that had to teach him the ways of the clan. Of course, she had made it your responsibility to assist her in the endeavor, ever grateful for every moment spent together even if it involved teaching a man the things a child would know.

Truly, you’ve all changed since that moment. Jake has learned. Body and mind, he’s learned to walk as a true Na’vi does. It is clear that in his heart he is one of the People yet there’s still doubt in your mind. How, if he was so committed to the clan, had he let those monsters burn down your home with barely a word of warning? Yes, he led the battle to seek revenge and cull the plague of humans from Pandora, but if he had such determination why had he not done it sooner? Humans are secretive, duplicitous. Things that Na’vi had no concept of before their arrival. Your hearts are true and open. Yet Jake still had things to hide even after he became a son of the Omatikaya. Trusting him now feels like a mistake. Neytiri might’ve moved past it but you can’t find it in yourself to open your heart to such pain once more.

The woman you loved has turned into someone you can’t recognize. Relaxing so easily into the days of peace even in the shadow of all that you’ve both lost. While your heart turned cold hers seems to have blossomed, open with a soft sort of hope. The humans are gone, the People are safe. So why can’t you move on with everyone else?

Jake touches your arm again, fingers tracing from the shape of your wrist up to your shoulder. The touch feels foreign after avoiding him for so long. It isn’t the distressed grasping as he tries to soothe your tears. It’s softer, less confining.

“Let me help, baby. How can I help?”

“Leave me alone.” He’s already shaking his head before you finish the words.

“No. Don’t push me away, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care how long it takes, I just want my girl back.” Back? Had you ever truly been his?

It had been a mistake to not close your heart to Neytiri when she was promised to Tsu’tey. Had you been strong enough then to smother the seed of childhood affection, to rob it of rain and sun until it withered and died, perhaps you wouldn’t be standing here with tears burning in your eyes. It would’ve taken less strength then to do what feels impossible now. A stone has turned to a mountain far beyond your strength to move. Jake seems to notice your hesitance, his eyes flitting over your face for any crack he might be able to use as a way past your protective shell. He seems to find it, reaching over your shoulder to brush his fingers over the length of your tswin. He draws it forward with careful reverence, pressing a kiss over the braided hair before looking at you once more. It’s doubtless that he’s thinking of that night beneath the light of the Tree of Voices.

A mistake if ever you’ve made one.

Eclipse is close at hand when Neytiri broaches the thought of taking Jake to see the Utraya Mokri.

“He is a son of the Omatikaya now,” she says gently, as if too much eagerness would startle you away from the idea. “Tonight would be the perfect night for his first commune with Eywa.” It is traditional for the first commune to happen soon after birth when memories are likely no more than colors and sounds and feelings. Jake is far past the age of first commune but as an outsider he hasn’t been allowed anywhere near such sacred places. When she sees your hesitation, Neytiri’s excitement softens.

“Yawne, he is ready. He has learned and proven himself. Do you still doubt his heart?” You do, still so weary of humans. No matter how kind, the thought of ever fully trusting a human picks at the old wound left by Sylwanin’s death, but you hold your tongue against the words. Mentioning her sister would only spoil Neytiri’s mood. She’s happy. Truly and utterly, and it makes your heart hurt to see her so content when her heart is chanting another’s name.

Jake. Jake. Jake. It’s all you’ve heard in recent times. No sunrise or sunset has gone without seeing the dreamwalker, hearing his name and seeing him walk beside the girl you once thought would be your mate. But she’s beautiful in her happiness. A shy smile playing on her lip as her tail curls playfully behind her. How could you ever disappoint her? And she is right. Jakesully has been accepted as a son of the Omatikaya. He is now no different in spirit than the boys you grew up with. You’ve watched him grow like a seedling sprouting into a tree, learning and changing as his human heart began to take the shape of something different. Yet you cannot completely forget his origins.

“There will be a celebration at nightfall,” Neytiri’s ears droop in defeat, “if we can leave without notice, then we can go to the Tree of Voices.” Upset is immediately replaced with elation as Neytiri beams.

“Will you help me prepare for tonight?” She asks coyly. The rest of the afternoon is spent in close proximity, skin against skin as you go about enjoying the simple intimacy of grooming Neytiri. She hums happily as you undo her braids. Washing and combing until her hair hangs down her back like a black river, tied back with a few sprigs of yellow leaves. She preens you in turn, caring for your hair with a practiced gentility before allowing you to leave to change into something more appropriate for the occasion. The most recent of your crafting was made with tonight in mind. Strings of tiny orange and yellow beads hanging over your chest in an undulating pattern, like sunlight sparkling off water. Your tewng is a bright shade of orange to match the band around your arm, hung in a cascade of feathers the colors of firelight. When night falls, music begins to drift up from the communal heart of Hometree. Drums thundering and voices singing as the celebration begins. Neytiri is easy to find beside her parents as they share words of congratulation for the newest members of the clan, and the sight of her snatches the breath from your lungs.

She’s dressed more beautifully than you’ve ever seen her. A collection of deep purple beads trail like tree roots over her chest with matching bands swaying about her arms, and a violet-dyed loincloth slung around her hips. It dampens your mood to see Tsu’tey close beside her, jealousy burning in your chest. He has forgone more elaborate adornments for the occasion yet he looks no less out of place. His presence commands respect. He will be a wonderful olo’eyktan to Neytiri’s tsahìk. A beautiful couple waiting to be bonded. Your mood is only worsened as her eyes linger some distance away. On the group of newly made adults. On Jake.

It tears at your heart like the twisting of a blade. Already you’ve had to accept a life without her truly by your side with Tsu’tey, though the union would be without true affection, but now she’s given her heart away to someone new. So strange how what once was alien looks nearly indistinguishable from the true Na’vi also being honored by tonight’s festivities. Some younger, some older, all joining the clan in adulthood. When the music begins in earnest, lines form to dance. Weaving between each other as bodies move to the beat of the drums. Jake has been staunch in his refusal to dance thus far, though his dreamwalker friend Norm seems open to learning. He’s a bit clumsy like a child learning to use his limbs as he follows along with the people trying to teach him, Na’vi words flowing with staunch formality from his lips despite the relaxed air of celebration. He waves as you walk past, somehow recognizing your face as a friendly one in the sea of people. Perhaps he’s seen Grace’s photographs from when you attended school and knows the shape of your pil to match your younger face. With some confusion, you wave back, cracking a small smile as he stumbles over his gangly feet again.

With fermented drinks flowing freely, the wariness has been tempered enough for the clan to act freely even in the presence of guests. Grace is known within the village, a trusted teacher and ally despite what happened at the school. She wasn’t at fault, though you surely blamed her for a time after it happened. Because there was no one else to blame but the humans. The girl you had grown up with, your childhood friends, all slaughtered in the blink of an eye simply for protecting their home. Had you known of their plan it might’ve been your body that was torn apart by bullets. The thought sends shivers skittering down your spine, the dark shadow returning after the joyous occasion chased it away.

In quieter moments you still mourn your losses caused by the Sky People. But Grace was also wounded, in body and spirit. You remember the blood dripping from the wound in her shoulder as she desperately pulled you away from Sylwanin, urging you outside as the soldiers closed in on the school. The last you’d seen of your teacher, she’d been putting herself between the soldiers and her students. She seems far more relaxed now as she laughs at something a man said to her, taking sparing sips of her drink as she watches the crowd. Ever the scientist wanting to study even under the most eased circumstances. The familiarity of it all soothes the hurt brought on by the memories.

Jake is occupied with Tsu’tey, the two of them sharing a drink. The group around them is chanting Jake’s name as he hisses around a mouthful of fermented juice. It seems so strange to see the two of them settled beside each other without any real reason. There’s no teaching, no exchanging of insults. They seem to almost be enjoying each other’s company. Tsu’tey had been keen on seeking the outsider’s death upon first meeting, as the whole of the clan’s warriors had been, but he seems not to have grown out of the animosity little by little. If anything, his distaste must’ve grown stronger in the convening months as Jake grew closer to the woman that was meant to be his. But the celebration seems to be reason enough to set aside conflicting feelings as Tsu’tey passes Jake another cup, urging him to take another drink. You think to join them but are stopped by the brush of something against your tail.

Hands find your waist, slim fingers tracing over the shape of stripes streaked there. Neytiri’s scent is easily recognized. Something sweet and smoldering as she pulls you close. There are more couples around you, all dancing just as intimately. Twirling and bouncing, hardly parting as the music guides your steps. She’s so beautiful in the firelight. Bright eyes and long lashes that flutter towards the ground as a bashful smile finds her lips. Her tail brushes your leg, curling over the shape of your thigh in a flirtatious display that you reward with a playful hiss. Neytiri giggles at the feigned aggression, pulling you closer by your hips until you’re no longer dancing, only swaying to the music as your bodies press so close they’re nearly one. You want to kiss her, going as far as to lift her chin and press your forehead against hers before remembering that this moment is only fleeting.

She isn’t yours. Not anymore. So instead you revel in the feeling of her bated breaths puffing over your lips before stepping away from the temptation. The short distance of separation has her smile waning but someone stumbles into you before you can find the words of an explanation, arm hooked over yours as the new partner urges you to join her. So you let her, leaving Neytiri to work through the confusion as a frown weighs on her lips. She lingers where you’d been for only a moment before stalking off to join Tsu’tey and Jake’s group, kneeling beside them to urge Jake to dance once more.

This time he sets his cup aside, laughing as he stands to join her. You try to put them from your mind, to focus on the people around you. A few you recognize as Tsu’tey’s students that are also being honored by tonight’s festivities. It is easy to lose yourself in the familiarity of the dance. Far less intimate than the one you shared with Neytiri as all of you move in a circle, feet stomping and hands clapping as the music swells. With the shift of a new melody, though the song is far from over, the steps change and you drift away from the group to join Tsu’tey where he now sits alone.

Despite the festivities, he no longer seems to be in the mood for merriment as a scowl mars his face, mouth drawn low as he watches Neytiri teach Jake to dance. Once again, it is not Tsu’tey with which your upset lies as the both of you sit scorned by the tsakarem dancing with the uniltìrantokx.

“I thought this rift had been mended.” Tsu’tey says after a few moments of discontented silence shared between you. At least the two of you knew where you stood with Neytiri. Tsu’tey was a friend, an ally, a man she would honor as her mate, where you were her true love that she had to give up to fulfill the expectations of her parents. It is tradition for the tsahìk to be mated to the olo’eyktan though there are some clans where it is not always so. But the Omatikaya have always been more spiritual, traditional in the ways that have been practiced since the time of the First Songs. To make exceptions for Neytiri’s feelings would be to go against tradition and it was decided that mating her to Tsu’tey would be best. Now here the two of you are, scorned and alone together.

“I know I am not the one in her heart,” he speaks gruffly, “but now it seems she has no taste for you either. Only this skxawng.” His words sting but there is truth to them. Even after spending an afternoon basking in her presence as you had before his arrival, Jake has come to steal her away from you once more. Simply by being. It isn’t fair to the years you’ve spent loving her, and her loving you, but you don’t say it out loud. The words are far too petulant and like grinding dirt into the wound Tsu’tey must tend to for the rest of his days knowing his mate does not love him wholly and truly.

“His eyes are small.” Tsu’tey says after a beat of silence. It’s enough to make you laugh at the annoyance in his tone. His drinking must’ve loosened his tongue or else you’d never hear him say such things as if he were sulking rather than angry.

“This isn’t funny. He will want to choose a mate sooner or later and what will we do when he chooses her when she is not free to be with him?” That quiets your giggling. Not once had you thought of what might happen if Jake wanted to pursue their budding relationship further. Already the separation between friend and lover has begun to blur like looking through a cloud of smoke. It is not in your heart to doubt Neytiri but people have been known to act out of character in the pursuit of love. What can be done if she is willing to betray her promise to Tsu’tey to be with Jake? And why hadn’t she been willing to do such things for you? It’s a selfish thought, especially with Tsu’tey close beside you. You banish it before your heart can be darkened any further by it.

“I will talk to her.” She wanted to be away from the clan with just the three of you tonight. No better time would come for you to raise such concerns with the way they’re looking at each other. It’s the same way you look at her, without the lingering regret of knowing you will never truly have her. Jake must know she isn’t his to keep yet he wants her even still. People continue to move around them while they stay still as stone, staring into each other’s eyes. It turns your stomach as if you’ve eaten something rotten.

“For the sake of the future.” Tsu’tey agrees. She will one day be tsahìk after her mother, that much is decided simply by birth. With Sylwanin gone the honor has fallen to her. An olo’eyktan is chosen, not born. If Jake can prove his worth as a warrior there might be no reason to object to his mating with Neytiri. Tsu’tey will simply be passed over as the future clan leader in favor of naming Jake as the next olo’eyktan. The thought seems inconceivable. Tsu’tey is the strongest the clan has to offer. Jake has only just been made one of the People, what can he offer that Tsu’tey does not already have in abundance?

The night is deep and the crowds thinned as people begin to trail off to sleep or to enjoy the night somewhere more secluded. The only music left is the din of voices murmuring over the crackling of the fire pits as Neytiri comes to coax you from your seat. Tsu’tey already left, too upset to be faced with the sight of his promised mate dancing so closely to another. With you, there was a tenuous agreement, an acknowledgment of your role as a placeholder. Jake has no such allegiances. You’re not sure why you stayed, punishing yourself with the sight of them together.

“Come, it is time!” Neytiri is smiling as if nothing is wrong. Jake seems not to know where she’s leading the two of you but he follows her tail as if it’s dipped in nectar. He smiles and you wish you didn’t see how Neytiri could fall for him. He’s handsome in a strange sort of way, so alike and yet so different to the faces you see everyday. Aside from his eyebrows, his eyes are small like Tsu’tey said, more human. And the way he carries himself, the way he speaks, is decidedly human as well. He’s as playful as a child despite his age and it serves as both an endearing and infuriating trait. And it was only made worse when he was still learning. Truly like a baby stumbling through the forest, curious about everything around him.

He still seems intrigued as you walk beside a river glowing like a sinuous blue thread into the distance ahead. You’ve waded your way past the banks into the warm rush of water. The current is slow, knocking lightly at your knees with hardly enough strength to lead even the fish upstream. Your eyes are low, focused on the finned animals swimming past your ankles. So focused that you don’t notice Jake drawing closer until his hands are on your shoulder with a sudden wave of strength. You lose your footing, toppling into the water and surfacing with a disgruntled hiss, ears drawn back as you bare your teeth in annoyance. The night air is warm, a balmy breeze brushing over your damp skin as water drips from your soaked form. Jake only laughs at your sour face before coming into the water after you.

Instinctually, your arms shoot out in front of you to keep him at bay but he just uses the opportunity to wrap his hands around yours, pulling you in close until you’re chest to chest. Your brows raise at the sudden closeness. In the time since your first meeting you’ve come to consider Jake a friend, perhaps closer even than the friends you’ve made in childhood. He’s been with you every day for so long that you almost can’t imagine a day passing without seeing him, but this is something beyond what you expected of your relationship. Of course, he’d act this way with Neytiri as she curls her tail at him, sharing coquettish smiles and lingering glances, but you’ve never shared in such flirtations. But it is plain to see how you react when it is Neytiri clinging close to you. And with every day spent so closely together, just the three of you, it isn’t hard to imagine how such boundaries might be lost with time.

Still, it’s dizzying how at ease he seems pulling you closer to him. Your eyes search for Neytiri with a frantic sort of helplessness only to find she’s smiling sweetly at the two of you, seemingly happy with how close you are.

“You didn’t offer me a dance tonight, ma’am.” He says, using the human word of respect for a woman. He said it was a remnant of his training when he was a warrior on his home planet. A Marine. Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Something he says now to tease women when they take a tone of authority with him. Childish as he always is. You’ve heard him say it to Grace a few times and it’s always accompanied with a subtle roll of his eyes. Tonight, he seems less flippant about the word. More teasing than sarcastic as he raises your joined hands over your head, twirling you in a splashing circle.

“She doesn’t like sharing such dances with others. She will only dance so closely with me.” Neytiri is rather forthright about how close the two of you are. It isn’t something you’ve kept particularly hidden, yet it still seems strange that she’d say such things out loud after so long spent burying your heart in the hopes that her match to Tsu’tey will go smoothly.

“She’ll dance with me.” Jake laughs, “Won’t you?” One of his hands falls to your hip while the other keeps yours in his grasp, held up and away from your bodies like he’s guiding you to shoot an arrow. He hums an unfamiliar tune as he leads you in clumsy circles through the water. It’s clear he’s never been much of a dancer and he’s probably missing steps to the human dance but you let him bob and sway you because asking to be let go would likely spoil the mood, and you want both of them in high spirits if you’re going to broach the topic of a bit of distance between the three of you. It’s only fair that you try to estrange yourself if you’re going to ask that Neytiri and Jake be a bit more conscious of their time together. To tell Jake to take a step back while still clinging close to Neytiri would be too cruel. Especially when you are in no place to be with her either. Even if it breaks your heart anew to truly let her go.

Neytiri laughs as Jake folds you backwards, balancing your weight on the hand he’s placed against your back. You hiss and cling to him, worried that this is another one of his games and you’ll be dropped back into the water. Instead he pulls you back towards his chest, both of them laughing at the scorned look you can feel pinching your face.

“You’re not funny, tawtute.” You scowl.

“I think I am.” He smiles wide, fangs flashing in the blue light. It’s all too familiar, too close. Neytiri joins the two of you in the water, hand brushing against your arm as she suggests a swim.

It’s easy to agree because it sets a bit of distance between the three of you. The sounds of the forest, the chittering and buzzing, quiets beneath the water enough for you to think. Jake must know how you feel about Neytiri. It would only take a glance to see how your heart yearns for her. So why had he touched you the way he had? Held you like you were the most delicate thing his hands have ever touched? It feels like you’ve tangled yourself into a knot. Too many threads have converged around you and it isn’t worth the effort to meticulously unwind them. Instead you want to sever each one in turn before they tighten beyond the point of escape. Neytiri is one thread and Jake another, then a dozen more all tied up tight.

The urge to turn away from it all becomes strong as you emerge from the river and Jake’s hand finds yours once more. It seems almost instinctual. He’s swinging your joined hands and laughing when Neytiri giggles at him for grabbing at her tail. He’s always been playful but you can’t help but wonder if the ceremony confirming him as a member of the clan has lowered some barrier he’d previously set between the three of you. He’s far more open with his touching tonight, more affectionate than you’ve ever seen him as the green syuratan is swallowed by the pale purple glow of the Tree of Voices.

A swarm of kenten bursts to life as you pass and Jake stops to watch them twirl away, still so enamored with life on Pandora. Neytiri stares for a moment, an enamored look glowing on her face before she reaches to take his free hand.

The long branches of the trees sway in the warm breeze, light burning brighter at the gentlest touch. Jake releases your hand to brush his arms through the hanging fronds. Without his hand in yours, you’re free to walk further ahead. It had been Neytiri’s plan to bring him here and you aren’t sure you want to bear witness to whatever it is she’s planning. Though you did promise Tsu’tey to at least try to dissuade them from doing something they might regret. Your feet only carry you a few steps away before your resolve strengthens once more. Instead of walking away with your tail between your legs, you turn to face the issue at hand.

Neytiri is explaining the significance of the trees. A place for prayers to be heard, a place to convene with those that have come before you. It is what you need in this time of confusion and you gather a few branches to connect your tswin. In an instant your mind is filled with a cacophony of voices. Singing and shouting, laughing and shrieking with happiness. Every life that led to yours is held within these trees and their voices offer a comfort like no other. The weight on your soul is lightened as you listen to the happiness babbling through tsaheylu. Old and young, man and woman. Your ancestors sing to you, laugh with you. Their lives are enduring within Eywa. Like salve over a burn, you feel your unsteady heart soothing. The anguish of knowing tonight will change the rest of your life is quieted. When you pull your tswin away from the tree, Neytiri is reaffirming Jake’s place within the clan.

“You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree,” she turns away as if she is nervous to continue, “and you may choose a woman. We have many fine women.” Her eyes cut towards yours before focusing on the atokirina’ crossing her path. The gentle spirit lands in the palm of her hand. Her ears bend and twist, nervously shifting as she seems to choose her next words with great care.

“Ninat is the best singer.” Jake immediately voices his disinterest and a quiet smile lifts Neytiri’s cheeks. She turns towards you and softly blows the woodsprite in your direction. The little seed twirls through the air, brushing against your cheek like a kiss before drifting away on the breeze.

“Beyral is a good hunter.” Jake seems to realize what Neytiri is doing, offering her advice on the unmated women of the clan. Pretending to put forth a possible match while still hoping he will decline every option he is given. So instead of denying interest, Jake nods.

“Yeah, she is a good hunter.” His tone is hollow, but Neytiri turns swiftly, disappointment clear on her face. The small smile she’s been hiding falls to a look of sadness. Seeing her crestfallen face feels as though you’ve stepped into an open flame. It eats away at you. Searing and burning as you watch the woman you love bare her heart to someone else. If Neytiri is upset, you’re livid. Angry and jealous and bitter because Jake has her eyes on him in such a special place, on such a special night. Yet a small, conflicted part of you is glad for the rejection because that is the reason you accompanied them to such a place to begin with.

This grove of trees is known to be a place of comfort. Many a mating bond has been solidified here, for generations. And you’ve been dragged along to bear witness to the making of another, though it is your hope to dissuade them from their desire to be connected in such a way. A part of you wants to rage and shout, demanding that Neytiri be with no one if you cannot have her. But seeing the sadness that Jake’s rejection has stirred in her makes your heart cry. She deserves this bit of happiness even if it is not with you. Even if it is not with who she is meant to be with. Jake is quick to correct himself when he sees Neytiri’s suddenly sullen face.

“I’ve already chosen,” he whispers. It feels like knives in your chest. Something acidic wells in your stomach as your tongue struggles to shape out the words to stop him as Jake’s eyes drift past Neytiri, towards you.

“But these women must also choose me.” There’s a breathy laugh from Neytiri as she turns towards you, smiling so wide that her eyes are eclipsed. She takes your hands in hers to pull you in close to her side. You try to pull away but she only shifts her grip, keeping you close.

“We already have.” Her words startle you. We?

Perhaps she has accepted Jake into her heart as more than a friend but you’ve yet to reach such a point in your affections. And even if you had, it is something forbidden for the three of you to be joined as mates. Neytiri is not free to offer herself to any other. But she looks so happy that you don’t have a moment to speak before Jake is kissing her. Your voice is stuck somewhere in your throat, like you’ve swallowed a rock. It’s hard to make any sound other than short gasps of panic as Jake’s fingertips brush against your cheek, tracing over the pattern of your pil. Feigning at shyness you turn your head away before he can kiss you, too. His lips find your temple, quick breaths rushing over your hairline.

Neytiri leads despite the nerves still clear on her face, guiding the three of you to kneel together as she takes hold of her tswin. It feels as though your eyes are going to leap out of your head with how wide they’ve gone. Everything is moving too quickly like a rushing river sweeping you up in its current.

This is the exact opposite of how this night was supposed to end. You were meant to reaffirm some type of separation between the pair not become tangled up between them. You think of the clan. Of expectation and tradition, of responsibility. Neytiri knows of duty and honor. It is what you’ve been taught since birth. Jake may not understand how precious the mating arrangements of a tsahìk and olo’eyktan are. And if he does, it’s clear he does not care. We can’t, you want to say, this is wrong. But it’s hard to see what is so terrible about it when the love of your life is smiling so sweetly and offering to tie her soul to yours.

Suddenly, Neytiri is in your lap again, forehead pressed to yours as she holds her tswin between your bodies, her other hand petting over where your braid hangs over your shoulder. She cannot force tsaheylu. You must offer your tswin to her with your own hand and it’s clear she is eager to be joined with such closeness. Her lips find yours. Soft, fluttering kisses that slowly sink into something more desperate. Her hands are on your body, tswin forgotten as she clings to you. There’s a shiver skittering down your back as her fingers raise goosebumps over your skin.��

Between her frantic kisses you find the courage to say, “We can’t.” Neytiri pauses. Her smile wanes for a moment, face flickering like a flame being snuffed. But then she’s flaring to life again, eyes bright with determination.

“This is what I choose, Great Mother forgive me. Nothing else matters but us here and now.” Her hands hold your face like the most delicate piece of crystal. “It was always going to be you, yawntu. Always.” Those are precious words. Because in your heart, no matter what comes to pass, you know you will always love her. The flame you hold for her has never wavered and it must be just the same for her. Even if there is another sharing the space with you. It’s enough to disarm you, lowering your inhibitions as you pull her into another desperate kiss. There’s a renewed steadiness to your hand as you take hold of your tswin, offering it to Neytiri as you always wish you could’ve. Time was lost adhering to expectation but it’s yours to reclaim as the soft tendrils of your braids twine into one. It’s more blinding than the gentle comfort of the Tree of Voices. Something sharp and overwhelming, nearly beyond comprehension.

It feels like Neytiri is touching you, holding you. Caressing every part of your skin at once. There’s still space between the two of you, a small distance between your chests and yet you feel her heartbeat as if it’s your own, feel each heaving breath as if it’s being drawn into your lungs. All that she is is suddenly inside you, like a pattern being woven into the very fabric of your soul. Another kiss is pressed against your parted lips. Wet and clumsy as she clings as close as your bodies will allow, until it feels like every piece of skin is brushing against yours. And then there’s a second pair of hands against your waist. Larger than Neytiri’s, different than anyone you’ve ever met. It takes a moment for the haze of euphoria to dissipate just long enough to remember Jake’s presence. He’s pressed in close against Neytiri’s back, chin resting on her shoulder as his arms reach to wrap around both of you.

It seems like he isn’t sure what is happening, eyes lingering on the place your braids are joined in tsaheylu. When his gaze flickers back to yours there’s something beyond curiosity sparking there. A look you recognize as longing, determination. It’s something you’ve felt, something you’ve seen reflected in Neytiri’s face. So strange that something so familiar suddenly looks so foreign. Just a few hours ago Jake had been nothing more than a friend. He is still little more than that but you can’t find the words to say it–tongue tied with the feeling of your soul melting with Neytiri’s–before he is slipping his hand under Neytiri’s arm to add his own tswin to the knotting of your spirits.

If the feeling had been sweet as ripe fruit before, it’s turned to something bitter and rotten as the unknown joins the blinding familiarity. If she notices, Neytiri doesn’t react to your sudden anguish. A beautiful moment and Jake has ruined it with his overeagerness. Human as he is, he does not understand what he’s done. You try to find the words, to make your tongue shape out the sounds to tell him that what he’s done cannot be undone, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a toneless gasp. Something choked and rasping. Perhaps you could’ve lived knowing Neytiri had shared this part of herself with the both of you, but there was never any desire in your heart to be with Jake in such an intimate way. And now it is too late to warn him of the consequences. Ruefully, you wonder if this is how tsaheylu feels between arranged mates. If this is what Neytiri and Tsu’tey would’ve suffered had the three of you not snuck away on this night.

It’s a strange, empty sort of feeling. Like water tainted with sand. Cloudy and coarse. Something you would not wish on anyone. Least of all Neytiri. It feels like floating, but just barely. Hardly drifting on the unsteady waves even as Jake and Neytiri’s happiness bubbles through the bond with startling clarity. At least they are happy.

It’s always been in your nature to stifle yourself in favor of others. To do as is expected rather than what you truly desire. Though this strange new bond that is slipping into place between the three of you was desperately desired. At least for Jake and Neytiri. It nearly hurts how hard Jake is holding onto you, fingers digging into the small of your back as he crowds the two of you in his arms. There isn’t anywhere you can go but here with the way the three of you are tied together. You’ll remain this way until morning, though you wish you wouldn’t as the euphoria begins to manifest in less innocent ways. Jake bites at Neytiri’s shoulder as she sits herself higher in your lap, hands rising from your waist to slip beneath the beading of your top. The strange clouded feeling lingers, but you find yourself falling back into the elation you felt moments ago, basking in the way your new mate is touching you.

And perhaps being tied to Jake will not be so terrible. He has proven himself different from the others. A true Na’vi among pretenders. With time, you could learn to care for him in the way he seems to cherish you. The thought feels like taking on the burden of another. This is the life Neytiri was meant to lead. Mate with Tsu’tey and lead as tsahìk when the time came. In saving her from such a bleak future you have banished yourself to something just the same. But some things change with time. Perhaps there will be a day when there is unfettered love shared between the three of you. Because in this moment, a dark hidden corner of your soul lingers on the thought of how Jake has ruined what was meant to be something perfectly beautiful.

Morning dawns in streaks of white light, chasing away the pale purple glow of the Trees of Voices. The slinking branches hang in swaying strands, stirring the sunlight and shadows in sinuous shapes. Everything is warm and soft. The feeling of limbs tangled over your own as ferns and blades of grass cushion your cheek, cutting into your vision as your eyes squint open in the bright light. With some struggle, you untwine yourself from Neytiri and Jake, slipping from the space between their bodies. Jake remains still, but Neytiri stirs to wakefulness with a flutter of her eyelids. Thick lashes fan shadows over her bright yellow eyes as she gathers her bearings. Slow at first as she smiles up at you, then with a sudden urgency as both of your eyes flicker towards a strange sound, ears bending and twitching as your mind tries to make sense of the disturbance.

It’s loud and heavy, but lacks the heavy footfalls of a herd of angtsìk moving through the forest. There’s something distinctly destructive about the sound, like the crackling of hundreds of pyres burning at once. The sound of wood popping and snapping like it’s being torn off in bits and pieces. It grows closer until the trees begin to shudder and fall a few paces away. Then you hear it, the tinny whirr you’ve come to associate with calamity, something made by the Sky People. Flashes of sunlight glint off the edge of something big and metal rumbling just beyond the tree line. Another tree falls, filling the air with a cloud of dirt and pollen, and Neytiri rushes to rouse Jake. He still hasn’t moved despite the commotion, body sprawled across the ground as if there isn’t some metal creature chewing through the trees with its mouth full of blades. Neytiri is perched over his chest, shouting and shaking as the world comes down around you. Leaves fall like rain as the shadow of the whirring beast eclipses the sun, far too close for comfort.

“Grab him!” You shout, already pulling at his arm. He’s heavy as stone as both of you struggle to pull him away from the collapsing trees. Another falls, larger than the rest, landing hard enough to send a buckling shudder through the ground. You fall for a moment, then again when a branch lands on your back. The splintered wood scratches across your skin like raking claws, likely drawing blood as you scamper forward on hands and feet to grab Jake once more. His stillness is like death as the two of you clamor to drag him away from the collapsing trees. But even between the two of you he is heavy, far too heavy to move with any haste. Neytiri gets his head over a fallen tree and you follow with his legs but it isn’t nearly quick enough. The machine is getting closer and Neytiri is growing desperate. Her voice shudders and cracks as she screams over Jake’s unflinching body, wailing for him to wake up. Back still burning from the fallen branch, you cover Neytiri’s body with your own as she shakes Jake’s shoulders. He comes to with an air of confusion, eyes expanding and contracting before he focuses enough to get to his feet.

Of all the things you expect when he pushes the two of you behind him, talking–shouting–at the metal beast is the farthest from your mind. The yellow behemoth has no rider, no obvious reins controlling its movement. It only seems to know forward, but Jake’s yelling seems to slow it to a halt. Though the stillness only lasts a moment before it’s moving again, grinding forward as if it never stopped to begin with.

“Go!” Jake shouts, shoving Neytiri forward. His hand lands against the scratches torn in your back, stinging as he pushes you after her. He doesn’t follow. Instead he runs towards the thing, yet you can’t bring yourself to look back as you run. There’s the sound of crunching metal then the firing of bullets.

It’s your turn to fall still, stumbling to a halt as fear roots you to where you stand. Your hands feel warm. They feel wet. When you look down at your shaky palms they’re suddenly bright as if they’ve been steeped in warpaint. Bright red and acidic as the scent invades your nose. The forest seems different now. More shadows overhead and wood beneath your feet. The smell of blood grows heavier as your eyes focus past your hands to the body at your feet.

Sylwanin is coughing, chest twitching and heaving as she tries to keep the breath in her torn lungs. Your cheek is wet, a spray of her blood speckled over your skin. She tried to say your name before she fell. Hands reaching towards yours, smearing blood over your fingers. Her eyes are dotted with spots of red, and there’s blood leaking from between her lips. She’s trying to talk, trying to say something between the stuttering heaves, but someone is pulling you away from her.

It takes a few stumbling steps before you realize you’re not in the schoolhouse, not watching your friend die. Instead you’re watching the Trees of Voices be decimated by the rumbling metal beasts still tearing through the carnage they’ve cleared behind them. The trees are gone, leaving only splinters and churned dirt behind as the machines beep and whirr their way through whatever lies before them.

Distantly, you hear Neytiri crying, though you feel numb even as you see smoke beginning to billow up from the fires the human warriors have set. Trees that have stood for a small eternity, gone in a moment. It doesn’t sadden you so much as it makes you angry. A seething type of anger that carves you out inside, leaves you hollow and numb. There should be tears. You should be in anguish. Yet it feels as though your heart hasn’t quite caught up to what your eyes have witnessed. It’s the same sort of angry nothingness you felt as Sylwanin laid dying at your feet.

The sound of bullets brought you back to that moment. No longer are you a woman grown, but a child with no knowledge of what to do with the destruction set before you. And now there are no ancestors to ask now, no voices to share your thoughts with. The Trees of Voices are gone. Silently, you stand and begin walking home. There’s nothing left for you here. You shouldn’t have come in the first place. One mistake strung after another in a necklace laced too tightly around your throat. It’s hard to breathe, hard to see as the tears well up at last, but you keep walking.

Hometree is filled with a cacophony of voices, but you ignore them all. You’re tired despite the sun having just risen. Curious hands brush against you as you float past, numb to the soles of your feet as touches graze the scratches on your back. It’s all dull pressure. No pain. No real feeling. Even the shrieking war cries sound distant as you trail between the warriors with their weapons raised and fangs bared. Despite your best efforts, you’re swept up into the maelstrom, jostled and pushed until you’re stumbling blindly to the front of the crowd.

Tsu’tey stands at the heart of the press of people, bow raised above his head. His eyes find yours, recognition sparking as he takes in your discheviled state. He says something, extends a hand, but you hardly realize he’s speaking to you until he’s pulling you out of the throng of incited Na’vi. At last, words begin to make sense again as he whispers privately, “Are you alright?” Vaguely, you gesture towards your back and he passes you over to Mo’at. The tsahìk’s face is lined with tension as she brushes the mess of leaves and splinters from your hair and turns you around to look over the wounds on your back. It faces you towards the crowd as Jake and Neytiri emerge. When had they fallen so far behind you?

With heavy strides, Tsu’tey brushes past you, handing you his bow. A clear sign that you’re meant to stay out of whatever he’s about to do. You hide your face in the adornments of his weapon, ears flattened in shame. He is treating you with kindness you do not deserve. You’ve betrayed him. His trust, his friendship. For your own selfish desires. Perhaps this is what is owed for thinking yourself higher than tradition. For going against the word of your tsahìk, of the Great Mother herself who chose Neytiri’s family as her voice among the People. Mo’at’s matronly hands dab against the burning lines cut through your skin with something cold and soothing. It’s more care than you deserve.

Neytiri is shouting, doing little to quell any notion that your plan to squash this issue has failed. If anything, the problem has only worsened since your promise to urge the two to part. Tsu’tey seems to glean it all from only a moment of looking between Jake and his promised mate, held back by Neytiri pressing against his chest.

“You mated with this woman?” Tsu’tey’s tone is accusatory, hardly a question at all. Against your back, Mo’at’s hand’s still. She soothes a hand over your hunched shoulder as she steps around you to approach her daughter. Each step she takes is slow, menacing as a hunting nantang. When the tsahìk speaks, her voice is filled with thunder.

“Is this true?” Between the words there’s a baring of teeth that makes Neytiri wither before her mother. She glances at you before gathering the courage to square her shoulders and declare herself mated before Eywa. It is like a spark bursting over dried leaves. A fight flaring in the blink of an eye. It’s expected. Months of simmering animosity finally bubbles over as Tsu’tey draws his blade at Jake. In the end he’s bested with a swiftness, blood leaking from his nose as Jake reminds him that he is Omatikaya now. It grants him the right to speak even if Tsu’tey will not hear him.

“These words are like stones in my heart,” he says, and you wish your ears would close to the world once more as Tsu’tey saunters in beside you. There’s a heat radiating from him, like his very soul is burning with his rage. So much he’s lost in a single morning. His mate, his ancestors. Hesitantly, you reach to touch his wrist, as if to hold him at bay. He stiffens under your hand but does not move as Jake stumbles through what he is trying to say.

Then Grace falls. Her body goes still, eyes rolling back as all of her muscles seem to come loose. Jake startles as he tries to rush to make his point.

“I was sent here to–” He collapses. That death-like stillness from this morning taking over once more. Your grip on Tsu’tey’s arm is broken as he rushes forward to put his blade to Jake’s throat. It should worry you, should enrage you. Because that is how mates are meant to act when one is put in danger. Defend, protect. You remain still. In your stead, Neytiri rushes forward to toss Tsu’tey away. She draws her knife in turn, hissing over Jake as if daring Tsu’tey to come any closer. Her lithe body is poised with menacing intent, ears drawn back and fangs on full display. It’s enough to send Tsu’tey away and you follow after him.

“You were meant to fix this.” He hisses, snatching his bow away from you.

“I did what I could but the stone was already cast. A dead tree will no longer bear fruit.” Which is to say a stubborn heart will never be swayed from its desire. It’s doubtless that Jake knew of Neytiri’s arrangement with Tsu’tey. There were days spent training when it was only the two of you. Neytiri and Tsu’tey sequestered away with Eytukan and Mo’at to learn the ways of leading the clan. It’s been mentioned in passing as Jake learned to speak your language, learning what the words tsahìk and tsakarem truly mean. He knew and yet he did not care. Nor did Neytiri. The Na’vi-born woman whose future is ruled by tradition. And perhaps even you did not care enough. Your protests had been meager, not even enough to sway your own mind. Still, you love Neytiri and that is the truth of it. To betray her love would be to betray yourself. Even if it’s what was expected of you. And if Tsu’tey suspects your involvement in this newly made bond, neither of you mention it.

There will be time for these petty squabbles later. For now, all minds are focused on retaliation, on war and revenge for what the Sky People have taken. Sacred lands desecrated in pursuit of their greed. Presently, it is the only thing that matters.

#jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #jake x reader x neytiri #avatar x reader #avatar

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month

Text

The Lady - 2

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , -

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

Bucky leaned back in his chair, studying her reaction keenly. "I understand your concerns," he said, his tone surprisingly understanding. "But trust me, this is a business matter. We're not in the business of hurting innocent people."

"If someone died, I'd probably get deported," Bucky added casually, his tone belying the seriousness of his words.

"You're American too?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with disbelief. It was only now, under the stress of the moment, that you noticed Bucky's lack of a British accent.

"Yup. Just like you. So we have something in common," Bucky replied, his smile masking the underlying tension between you.

Leaning back in your chair, you feigned deep contemplation, buying yourself time to process the weight of Bucky's request. "After thinking thoroughly, it's not gonna happen," you finally declared, your words a thinly veiled refusal.

Bucky's easygoing demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine. Drawing closer, he rested both arms on Rupert's study table, his gaze piercing you unwaveringly.

"Your Grace, because of my friendship with Rupert, I'm giving you this last chance," Bucky declared, his voice low and commanding.

With a swift motion, he produced a business card from his suit pocket and slid it across the table towards you. "I'll be waiting for your call."

As he retreated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping over you. The stakes had never been higher, and you knew that the choices you made in the coming days would shape the course of your future in ways you couldn't yet comprehend.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket as you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on the familiar photos adorning the walls.

Among them, a small picture frame caught your attention, capturing a moment frozen in time: you and Rupert, smiling at a polo game.

Your voice faltered as you addressed the silent figure in the photograph. "Why did you choose me?" you whispered, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. "Dad."

Feeling lost and overwhelmed, you pondered your next move. Should you confront your mother, who seemed to have kept secrets hidden all along?

Or seek answers from the twins, who had already distanced themselves from the burden?

After careful consideration, you decided to turn to your childhood friend, Eddie, for guidance. With a sense of determination, you grabbed the car keys and set off for Halstead estate, hoping that Eddie might offer some much-needed clarity in this sea of uncertainty.

As you stepped onto the familiar grounds of Halstead estate, memories of summers past flooded your mind. Despite the initial awkwardness of being left behind by your mother, the warmth of Eddie's family soon enveloped you in a sense of belonging.

The memories of summers spent here flooded back. Your mother left you behind, as the twins didn't want you to join the holiday. So, your mom left you here since Eddie's manor was closer to you.

Initially awkward, but it became enjoyable with Freddie always cracking jokes and Eddie, the adventurous one.

Reminiscing about fishing trips, horseback riding, and clay shooting, you couldn't help but smile at the fond memories made in this idyllic setting.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to see Freddie, Eddie's brother, approaching with open arms. Despite the passage of time, Freddie seemed unchanged, his jovial spirit shining through.

"Y/N! Come here. Give me a hug."

You embraced him. It had been 15 years, and he seemed different, almost radiant.

Freddie said, "I'm sorry about Rupert. I lost my dad last year too."

You replied, "I'm sorry too."

"So, it's obvious you're not here for me. You want to see Eddie?" Freddie asked.

"I am," you confirmed.

"He just finished a conversation with a guest. Let me take you there," Freddie offered, leading the way.

When you walked into the study room, you heard an elegant female voice saying, "I'll give the info later."

As she walked out, you noticed her stylish demeanor and sensed a mysterious aura around her. There was a hint of leadership in her presence, but what struck you as odd was the faint smell of weed lingering in the air.

She smiled at you before departing.

"I didn't expect you to come here so soon," Eddie remarked with a smile as you turned to face him. Seated in a leather chair, he exuded the air of a true duke.

"I didn't know where else I could go," you replied.

Freddie cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two alone."

Eddie offered you a seat and poured a drink, which you gratefully accepted.

"I heard you got the title. Congrats," Eddie said, raising his glass in a toast.

You chuckled softly. "The title is useless when all I've got is debt."

Eddie fell silent for a moment. "I went through a similar situation myself. What kind of problem are you having right now?"

"Do you know Bucky Barnes?" you asked.

Eddie clicked his tongue in response.

Crossing your arms, you continued, "So you know him. That means you knew about my stepdad's weed business."

Eddie leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Rupert got into the business earlier than me," he began, his tone reflecting a mix of resignation and regret. "The woman you saw before is Susie Glass."

"He had a business with her," Eddie continued, his voice tinged with disapproval.

You clenched your jaw, the realization sinking in.

"I didn't know much about the details, but your father was on the list that worked with the Glass," Eddie explained, his expression troubled.

"He wanted out," you interjected, your voice firm with determination.

Eddie nodded grimly. "And that's where Barnes came in. He's a syndicate, setting up a branch in the UK from New York. His business was unique and deadly."

The dimly lit study seemed to take on a more sinister atmosphere as Eddie spoke, shadows dancing across the walls like flickering flames. The air was tense, each word carrying the weight of unspoken truths and hidden dangers.

"Rupert owes Barnes 8 million pounds," you stated, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before responding, his expression thoughtful. "That's..."

"I know, it's insane," you interjected, your voice tinged with frustration.

Eddie met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and determination. "I could pay off your debt," he offered quietly.

You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his proposal. "Then what? I'll still in debt. It never ends," you countered, a note of bitterness creeping into your voice.

You sighed, the weight of Rupert's decision heavy on your shoulders. "Why did Rupert choose me?"

Eddie nodded in understanding, his expression reflective. "I asked the same thing when my dad chose me instead of Freddie."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, prompting Eddie to chuckle softly. "Problem solver," he explained simply.

You nodded slowly, considering Eddie's words. "Both of us did join the military. Is it because we went through difficult situations?"

Eddie leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "Probably," he agreed, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "But I'm sure you could handle it. If not, I'll be here to help you."

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thank you," you murmured gratefully, appreciating his caring demeanor.

You nodded firmly. "I've got all I need. I'll go now," you declared, trying to maintain composure as you turned to leave.

Eddie nodded in response. "Sure. I'll see you next time," he replied, his tone gentle and understanding.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a swirl of emotions inside, like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings. You tried to keep a cool facade, but deep down, your heart was racing.

Meanwhile, Eddie watched you go, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Then, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Did she notice?" someone asked quietly.

Eddie glanced over, meeting the gaze of the speaker. "Not yet," he responded softly, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated the situation.

You drove for what felt like an eternity until you finally arrived back at your own manor. As you stepped inside, you noticed Hugo playing in the living room with Susan. Ignoring your mother, your focus was solely on your little step-brother.

You were just ten years old when you first met Rupert, and he had quickly become the best father figure you'd ever known. During the eight years you spent here, you learned to appreciate Rupert's love for his legacy and the history of the manor.

Sighing heavily, you knew you were about to make a risky decision.

Heading to Rupert's study again, you picked up Bucky's business card and dialed the number. After just two rings, his voice filled your ears. "I've been waiting for your call, Your Grace," he said smoothly.

Rolling your eyes at his confidence, you replied, "Just one job and you clear the debt?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone dripping with assurance. "It would be a big explosion. They'll think it's a terrorist attack. But no, Your Grace. Five small explosions, and we're done."

Bucky's voice crackled through the line, his tone both humorous and tinged with an unmistakable edge. "Think of it as fireworks, Your Grace. Except instead of pretty colors, we'll be making a statement."

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, the gravity of the situation juxtaposed with Bucky's nonchalant demeanor. "And what kind of statement would that be?" you asked, trying to match his casual tone.

"The kind that says, 'Don't mess with us,'" Bucky replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous charm. "We'll leave 'em scratching their heads and scrambling for cover."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't deny the thrill of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you're sure this will work?" you inquired, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice.

Bucky's confidence was unwavering. "Trust me, Your Grace. When it comes to making a scene, I'm the best in the business."

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Silver Lining 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You yawn as you look into the barren depths of your cup. Bucky sits up and rolls his shoulders, a dimple in his cheek. He looks you over as you furrow your brow curiously; do you have something on your face?

“W-what?” You bat your lashes.

“Should've got ya something with caffeine,” he says.

“Oh… little l-late,” you look over as the baristas wipe the counters. It's almost closing time, “s-s-speaking of-f.”

“Mm, yeah, I suppose,” he slides over his stapled papers, “you got all my notes. When I get back, we'll figure out the final draft and get the mic going.”

“S-sounds g-good,” you stutter and swallow another yawn. When you're tired, you can barely speak straight. “I sh-should head ou-out.”

You chomp down as yet another yawn rolls up your throat and your eyes nearly roll back. You smile as best you can and stand, grabbing your bag to pack up. He gets to his feet and pulls on his jacket.

“I'll give you a ride,” he offers.

“No, n-no, it's o-okay–”

“You shouldn't walk,” he looks outside as the night contrasts the white ground, snow still piling high.

“J-just as bad d-driving,” you comment.

“I got snow tires,” he insists, “really, I'd… I'd feel bad if you walked.”

“Y-you would?” You snort.

He gives you a look. That look. The one that warns caution. You put your hands up defenselessly.

“Fine, I-I'll let y-you drive m-me,” you surrender. “B-b-but you should know, I'm n-not that h-ho-hopeless.”

“Never said you were,” he pulls a beanie over his gray hair, “not a big fan of the cold myself.”

“Yeah, i-it probably m-makes your b-bones hurt,” you slide your arms into your coat.

“You making fun of me?” He scowls.

“No-o, I just… my st-stepdad always says–”

“It's fine. It does,” he sniffs, “cracked a few ribs playing ball in college. They never heal right.”

“Ouch,” you hook your bag on your shoulder.

“You got a curfew?” He checks his watch.

“Wh-what? I-I'm thirty,” you exclaim.

He chuckles. That takes you off guard.

“I know, I'm not too old to make jokes too.”

“Y-yeah, I w-wasn't–”

“Relax, it's fine. Better go before we're snowed in,” he leads you to the door, thanking the staff as he opens the door and waits for you to go ahead of him.

Well, there might blizzard brewing outside but he seems to be thawing.

🩶

You get home to a quiet house. Your sister, Kira, hushes you as you come upstairs, her children already asleep. She has a clay mask on as she hogs the bathroom going through her nightly routine. You dip into your room and hide.

You didn't expect them to wait up for you. That's ridiculous, but no one even asked about the job. It must be the excitement of a full house. Your sister does everything right so of course they'd want to focus on her. Maybe tomorrow.

You get in your pajamas and settle into bed. It’s hard to still your mind and the jittery energy still swirling inside of you. You put on a lofi video and let it play as you close your eyes. You have the weekend to make the last tweaks and you’ll finally be onto the next step. You hope.

You spend Saturday penned up in your room, hunched over at your desk as you go through the notes from your meeting. As the clock ticks close to noon, your phone vibes, drawing you back to the land of the living. You rub your eye sockets and groan. You need to eat.

You check your phone; you have a message. You flick your thumb up and blink at the text. It’s Bucky. You still haven’t saved him as a contact, recognising him only by the last four digits of his number.

‘Quick pitstop. Forgot to ask last night. How can I pay you?’

You chew your thumb as you think. That’s the awkward part. Even though you’re doing work, it’s still a bit strange. It isn’t like a company where the money just pops into your account on schedule.

‘I can give details when you get back. Hate to add stress to your trip.’

You hit send and sit back, stretching your neck. Your phone buzzes again. You don’t expect a quick response.

‘Asking now. Will be heading into no reception. Wanted to pay you for scriptwork. Will pay rest after recording.’

Your stomach knots. You’re trying to be polite but you can’t deny that you could use the money. With Christmas tiptoeing closer, you should really get on gift shopping.

‘Right. I have Venmo.’

You tap the arrow and wait. He doesn’t answer right away. When he answers, it’s just the thinking emoji, followed by another text.

‘I’ll figure that out. Do I need your email or something?’

You sweep away the chat and tap into your app. You copy your payment code and paste it into the chat. You follow it with a quick message; ‘should prompt you how. If you need to wait, it’s fine.’

Thumbs up. That’s it. You accept that. To be fair, from him, it’s an improvement. It seems you’ve found a tenuous truce with him. You’ll take that if it means you’re not scooping into your savings.

You can hear your sister and mother gabbing as you leave your room. You stop at the top of the stairs and brace yourself. Things didn’t exactly leave off on the best terms.

You descend and sneak past the dining room where they sit and sort through your mother’s vast Christmas card collection. You’re careful not to draw any attention as you enter the kitchen and quietly pop a pod into the keurig and set your mug on the tray.

Your coffee brews with a grind, giving away your endeavour. You don’t look back as you hear the scuff of slippers. Kira enters and clinks her empty cup down on the counter not far from you. She couldn’t wait until you finished.

“So, how was your job? A bit late to be rushing off to work.”

“It’s f=freelance,” you say. “It’s g-g-good.”

She scoffs, “ah, well, that’s great. You can get out of mom and dad’s hair soon enough.”

“Y-yeah,” you agree, cheeks scalding with embarrassment, “w-working on i-it.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You know, Catherine called me the other day…” she mentions your previous coworker, her friend from college, “guess she got a promotion.”

You nod. She’s goading you. What does she expect you to say? Does she expect you to apologise for leaving a bad situation?

You take your cup of coffee and sidle away. She chuckles, the way she always does when you don’t feed into her drama. Her mug hits the tray heavily.

“I’ll tell her you say hi,” she preens.

You keep going without an answer. You yawn as you come upstairs and hear whispers ahead of you. You rush forward, sloshing hot coffee onto your hand as you approach your open door. Why didn’t you close it?”

As you get to the threshold, there’s a sudden clatter and you gasp. Jamie sits in your desk chair as your laptop lays face down on the floor. Casey is underneath the desk tugging on the power cord. You shriek and sloppily slam the mug onto the shelf mounted just beside the door.

“W-w-w-what are you d-d-doing?” Your emotion overwhelms your voice, “how–”

You hear footsteps rush up the stairs and Kira hisses as she marches down the hall, “shhh, my kids are sleeping.”

“No, th-they aren’t,” you hurry forward and take Jamie out of the chair. As you shoo Casey, your sister enters your room.

“Don’t hurt him,” she demands.

“Wh-what? I w-wouldnt–”

“Don’t touch my kids,” she comes forward and scoops up Casey then takes Jamie’s hand, “they’re just curious.”

You bend down to pick up your laptop. You turn it over and find lines streaked up in a spectrum. Smashed. Broken. Demolished.

“They b-broke it,” you whimper.

“Ugh, whatever,” she hauls her kids back to the door, “it’s just a computer.”

You stare at the ruins and shake your head at her back. What are you going to do?

#silver lining #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #au #silverfox au #marvel #mcu #winter soldier #avengers #series

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