#he's already run into an invisible wall like four times

[theblueflower05]

Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

(Part Three of the First Love/Late Spring series)

A/N: This is a monster of a part. I thought about splitting it into two but it just wouldn’t make sense to the story! I hope you babies like it.

Word Count: 10+ (holy fuck)

Warnings: This story is smut filled. All future installments of this story will be explicit.

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Oral(female & male receiving), fingerfucking. Penetrative sex. Breeding. Talks of anal. Spanking. Cum eating. Dirty talking. A bit of exhibitionism if ya squint. Pretty much all the sexy sexual things you can imagine.

Summary: You and Neteyam move into your new home and spend your first Fertility Season together. Neteyam x Metkayina Reader

Series Masterlist (all parts can be found here)

Previous:<Crawling Back to You

Next:> Part Four (currently unnamed)

Honey, I belong with you

And only you babe.

Only you my girl. Only you, babe.

Only you darling. Only you- Dark Red, Steve Lacy

You had never been good with change.

Your steadfast nature flourished in routine. You found happiness in the known. In your corner of the world, mixing tinctures and tending to your clan. You’d been well aware of your role from a young age, had thought you’d understood the great mother’s plan for your life-

And then the Sully’s had ridden in on the strong east wind.

There had been invisible strings at play.

Unbeknownst to you fate had threaded you to a future that you couldn't have foreseen even in your wildest dreams. Entangled your heartlines with the last person you ever would’ve expected-

You think about the fact as you stare out at the choppy sea. Your hands are busy collecting the last of your belongings, but your mind is far away. Distracted and restless as the storms that gather along the coastline. The sky is dark and rain already falls in a light misting.

Fertility Season is here, palpable as it rolls over the village of Awa’atlu.

You’ve never experienced it this way, always a spectator and never a participant. Normally at this time of year you’d be preparing to assist the other villagers through the week of haze induced mating. Being bogged down by wet weather and running from Mauri to Mauri had always been exhausting, but still. You knew how to do it, we’re accustomed to what was expected of you when a healer was needed.

What would be expected of you as a mate?

The thought excites you and terrifies you all the same.

You want to be with Neteyam. There is no question about the fact. You crave him in a way that you didn't know was possible. Carnal and inescapable. Being with him is as easy as breathing,

It’s everything else that’s harder.

You’re an adult now, have been for years, yet you still live in your family home. It’s not that you had been forced to stay. Ao’nung had taken his leave after his rite; his hut more of a bachelor pad than anything. He still came to his parents home daily to raid their food stores and have his mother touch up his braids- but still. He’d jumped fearlessly into independence and had been living on his own for over a year.

All you’d ever known lived inside these walls.

Your Uncle Tonowari and Aunt Ronal had taken you in at such a young age that you don’t really remember anything else. You’d slept in the same bed since you were a childling, in your secluded little corner. Decorated with all of your trinkets and shrouded in familiarity, you’d loved your space.

It was safety incarnate.

And you leaving was difficult, for everyone.

It would’ve happened one day, a necessary step towards adulthood that all had to take and yet as you took your turn you couldn't help but be a bit devastated. It felt like a shock to your system, gathering everything you’d accumulated and preparing to leave.

After Fertility Season, you wouldn't return. You’d never sleep under this roof again.

You and Neteyam would start to build your life together- and you’d do so in your own home.

It wasn't even as though you were going far, the vacated mauri that Tonowari had granted you permission to claim was mere meters away, still in the heart of the village. The move wasn't a major one, and would take no time at all. Nothing like the way the Sully’s had been forced to uproot and leave everything they’d ever known.

There was no reason for you to act like a baby about it. So don't allow yourself to.

Even with all of the swirling questions plaguing you, you put on a brave face. Kept it all smiles and reassuring nods. This was all going to be just fine.

Right?

Right.

It’s too busy a time of year for your Aunt and Uncle to be housebound. They tend to the people, attention occupied by assuring the good of the clan. Of course they had given you all of their love before leaving to fulfill their many duties as Olo’eyktan and Tsahik-

Ronal had been stony about your coming of age. Very helpful, sending you back and forth with arms full of supplies and many words of advice. Tonowari on the other hand had played at being unaffected- charitable as ever. Smiling the whole way, reminding you of how proud of you he is at every turn. You pretended not to see the mist in his eyes that he furiously wiped away when he thought you weren't looking.

Tsireya has tears, silent but steady, rolling down her face the entire time you prepare to leave.

She helps you pack and reassures you that she’s fine. She’s so happy for you, yet still. She sniffles paws at her nose every few moments, no matter how many reassuring words you give her.

“You’ll be fine” you hum, gathering the last of your herbs, the tiny vials clinking together as you toss them in with the rest of your things . “Aren't you excited that you get the bigger bed space now?”

She just shoots you a wet smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

Your baby.

Your sweetest girl.

It wouldn't be long before she was leaving the nest herself, but you don't remind her of that fact, you just embrace her tight instead.

Finally, with the large woven basket in your arms, full to the brim, you step out into the rain.

It's chillier then it usually gets on the island. The humidity and wind creating a cold that clings to your bones. You bound quickly down the buoyant netting. Everyone seems to be out, even with the weather- getting their affairs in order. It was going to be a long week- and the village was a buzz. Everyone flitting around, focused in on making sure their loved ones would be well taken care of.

It’s a bit embarrassing, the attention that you receive.

Well meaning clans members give you their blessings in spades. Tight hugs and words of well wishes. Whispered advice and wrapped parcels of food.

A group of Elders who you have known since birth stop you in your tracks. Their hands on your back, your chest, your arms, as they chant over you.

They ask the Great Mother to look over you during this season, to bless you with strong babies and healthy pregnancies. Their knowing smiles are both encouraging and mortifying.

“Your man sure is handsome” Ch’kal, a wrinkled woman with striking silver streaked into her long dark hair, starts “But do they not feed them in the forest? He’s so skinny, isn't he? I’ll give you our families recipe for Lomia-lok(cabbage like rice roll) Put some meat on his bones”

You want to argue that Neteyam’s not skinny, he’s lean. All muscle and sinew, he was stronger than he looked.

Instead you respond cordially “I will gladly take it, thank you for the offering”

“No worry, the skinny ones always have the biggest surprises under their twengs. My muntxa was a scrawny thing and look at how many little ones he gave me” She continues, a mischievous spark twinkling in her eye. Known for her unbridled, silver tongue. “You know what they say, you can’t judge the fruit by the tree”

You can feel the blush rise on your cheeks as images from the beach flash before your eyes.

She had no idea just how…well endowed your future mate truly is. His cock had felt so good in your hand, better than anything you had ever encountered. Huge and hard and all yours.

You keep that fact a secret, hold it tight to your chest as you break away from the crowds.

Lots of the homes of young couples have already been barred off. Their drapes pulled shut and wicker entry blinds secured tightly closed. A thin attempt of privacy. It does little to shelter the sounds of coupling coming from inside. Breathy moans and grunts could be heard, nearly drowned out by the whipping wind.

It was just the beginning. Fertility Season was known to be loud, your people not shy at all when it came to pleasure.

Eager to get out of the rain that only seems to get heavier as the hours pass, you duck down the netted pathway.

Your clan is lucky for the reefs, their protective cushion keeps the village from ever feeling the full fury of the storms.

Even still, by the time you’re at the mouth of your new home, you’re drenched. Your hair clinging to your back uncomfortably as you get to quick work.

The graciously given pod is something of a fixer upper.

Had been used for storage but cleared promptly when you and Neteyam formally announced your courtship. He wouldn't have to build a Mauri from nothing, but even then. It would be a while before the space felt your own. The bare walls unnerve you a bit.

A sturdy roof is all that's truly needed and it had been patched up just fine. The fire that Neteyam had started earlier crackles warmly, a pleasant welcoming as you dry yourself off.

The firepit in the center has been cleared of soot and debris and topped by sturdy rods that hold a ready to use skillet and hand-me-down stew pots. There’s baskets of fresh fruit and dried meat placed in rows near the jugs of fresh water, you suspect that neat work had been Neteyam’s mothers doing. Neytiri had been a great help in the relocation process. You still felt a bit awkward in her strong, silent presence but we’re no less grateful for the offered assistance.

A bed mat, thick and large enough for two sits in the back corner. Already piled with an accumulation of Metkayinan and Omaticayan woven bedding. You admire the foreign patterns that make up Neteyams quilts. They look cozy, so much thicker than your own thinner blankets.

You sink down, resting on your shins as you begin to arrange them. The need to nest is instinctual, deep rooted and you move on auto pilot as you straighten out the bedding. It had to be perfect, the home. Your bed. And it would be, had the potential to be.

Yes, it’s a little bit of a mess.

The collection of you and Neteyam’s things strewn out across most of the visible floorspace, not yet put carefully away and sorted. It’s also far smaller than what you’d grown up in. Kind of rickety and worn down-

But it’s yours. You would live an entire life here. You get lost in imagining it; raising children, growing old. Spending years cultivating endless memories- maybe you’d build onto the structure? Expand the pod, depending on how many children you have-

“Fucking hell” Neteyam curses in his fathers foreign tongue as he rushes through the entrance, quickly latching the canvas and wicker flap across the doorframe behind him. Securing your home against the stirring elements.

His arms are full and he’s soaked from the storm. Rivulets of rain water race down his sculpted body and you try not to be too obvious as you gawk at him.

He’s just so good looking, it really is unfair.

“It’s really starting to pour out there”

“Yes, I was worried you might of drowned” You grin back at him, loving the

“Ha, ha” Neteyam teases as he goes to drop the baskets full of food down by all of the others “It’s my mom. She wont stop. I keep trying to tell her that we will be fed for weeks but she just won't hear it. ”

“I think it's sweet” you hum as you watch the planes of his back, the muscles bunching as he bends down to arrange the fruit.

He’s so strong, holds it in his back and broad shoulders. You ache to run your fingers along his long spine.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip hard as you continue working at the bedding. Trying to get the blankets to lay just right. You don’t think it will truly be done until you and Neteyam’s scents are saturating every inch of fabric, but still. It’s good right?

All you want to do is drag him down, make him roll around in the bed mat. It’s too firm, not broken in yet. You need him to plow you into it, if only to soften it up a little.

Your thoughts had been horribly vulgar since that night at the beach. Vivid in a way that had you losing yourself to them often.

It had only been two eclipse’s since, but the days had been long and filled with rushed preparations. Neteyam had been preoccupied with making sure the Mauri was livable, that it was comfortable enough to house you, comfortably, for the duration of the coming week. Both of you would be lost to your hormones soon, it was best to get it all done while he still had his wits about him.

The spaces between intimacy make you anxious and antsy. You question yourself, every touch and word. He’d made it more than clear that he wanted to be with you but what exactly did that mean? Could you just touch him, however you wanted, whenever you wanted? You’d never shared that with a man and knew you had a while to go before the awkwardness of it all faded.

Neteyam’s presence breaks you out of your thoughts, a big hand coming to rest on your shoulder. Palm warm as he looms behind you “It looks good, yawne.”

A surge of pride runs through you, makes your fingertips tingle and tail swish slowly “Really? You don’t think it needs more blankets? I could hunt some down-”

His chuckle is low, deep. So gentle as he croutches down until he’s nuzzling your hair, speaking his next words so close to your ear that it flicks with the whisper of contact.

“There’s no need for that, it’s perfect. Such nice little nest for us to spend the season in”

How does he always know just what to say?

You lean into him heavily, your back meeting his chest. Stomach fluttering with excitement at the contact. You’ve wanted to be in his arms since leaving them and are pretty sure that this could become an addiction. Being so close to him was heady, you’re not sure if it’s the electric energy in the air- or if its just HIM.

His hands slide from your shoulder, skimming across your chest. Massaging your flesh with the pads of his fingers. Your heart flutters hummingbird fast as he thumbs at your collarbone and a small gasp leaves you as his fingers start to slip down into your skimpy top.

It’s been so hard, keeping your mind from sinking under the haze of Fertility Season. So many of your peers are gone to it. Completely to their hormones, tucked away together as the storms batter the shore.

His touches leave fire in their wake, warm you up from the inside out and melt what little control you have left. You’d been good, hadn’t you? Gotten everything in order, all of your responsibilities were squared away. You could just…have this. Have him, and your small home and the rising heat between you.

“Need you” you whisper as he begins to palm at your breast, rubbing a callused palm over the hardening bud of your nipple over and over again.

“Need me how?” Neteyam presses, not stoping his insistent groping “‘What do you need, yawntutsyip(darling)? My mouth, my hands? My cock?”

You choke on your own tongue, startled by both Neteyam’s raunchy words and the fact that he pinches your sensitive nipple hard as he speaks them.

In all reality, you want it all. Want to ride his fingers again, and feel his mouth all over you. You’d dreamt, so vividly, about his head between your thighs-

All of those pale in comparison to what you truly crave.

‘It’s the skinny ones that always have the biggest secrets under their twengs’

You maneuver in his hold, twisting until you come face to face with exactly what you desire.

With him standing, straightening out to his full height, and you still resting on your knees, your eye level with the prize. Saliva pools in your mouth as you lean in, sucking in deep lungfuls of his scent. Its so strong at his groin that even concealed by his tweng, it still fills your nostrils in fragrant plumes.

So virile and potent that your womb throbs sparply, empty and wanting.

You nuzzle between his legs, nosing eagerly at his covered bulge. When you begin wetting the cloth of with your open mouth kisses and wandering tongue, Neteyam winds his hands in your hair and tugs your gaze up to his-

He’s more than happy to let you explore and get your fill but the lack of skin to skin contact is driving him crazy. His amber eyes are low, his belly concaving with his quickening breath.

“Baby, you’re killing me” he whispers whinely and a feline like grin stretches across your face.

“We can't have my mighty warrior dying on me, now” you croon at him, your small hands running up his strong legs. His muscles bunch under your touch, his thighs firm up, tightening in anticipation “I just wanna...Can’t I have a little taste?”

When you cup where he’s chubbing up, he hisses warningly between his clenched teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair-a thinly veiled warning. You just continue to give him that innocent little look.

Neteyam reaches for the leather bound knots of his covering, tugging on them harshly to free himself from the increasingly tight constraints, its hard to wiggle out of it. Especially when you keep reaching for his swelling balls with deft fingers, your hand tucked in between his thighs-

“Y/N!”

You giggle at his tone, at the shrill warning as the tips of your nails scritch his delicate taint.

Neteyam is huge. His cock is as dark as the rest of his svelte body, but blooms rosy purple at the crown of his swollen head. Longer than it is thick, a bead of thin opaline precum oozes from his slit.

You hum in the back of your throat, swallowing thickly around the saliva that pools your mouth. You can smell his sex, smell his essence rolling off of him and it’s dizzying.

You’re absolutely overwhelmed by it. It triggers something deep and primal. You want to roll around in this smell, want him to cover your body in it.

“You smell really good” you whimper, face coming to rest in the crease of his groin “Eywa, Neteyam- I-I want-fuck“

He hums, the hand still in your hair turns comforting. Pats at your head like your a child. “You wanted to taste, didn’t you?”

“Mmhm” you squeak, inhaling deep lungful's of his rich aroma.

“Then taste, sevin(pretty girl). Here” he pulls you from his center, hold your head, guiding it until your lips hover his top “stick your tongue out-“

The grunt that leaves him sounds like it was punched right from his stomach.

You don’t stick your tongue out-it’s more you take as much of him as you can into your eager mouth. You want his taste down your throat, want to guzzle it straight from the source.

The sensations are exciting and new. Having something so big in your mouth is admittedly a bit awkward, but the flavor that your rewarded with more than up for it. His skin is musky and warm-cut only by the sharp tang of the precum pouring out of him.

“Slow down, damn it- don’t-” Neteyam calves burn, struggling to stay upright as you attack him. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

You’re so hungry for it, gagging yourself harshly on his member. The sounds that erupt from your chest are animalistic, needy and a bit pathetic. You whine for him, knowing somewhere deep that you need his come inside of you.

He’s trying to keep his wits about him, really he is. Trying to guide you through it

“Breathe through your nose, aht. Just like that”

“Not so much teeth, a little gentlier”

“Deep-too deep! Not so deep!”

Between the sounds of your gagging and the little bobs of your head, Neteyam’s losing it. His hips chasing the sweet suction of your hollowed lips, his tip hitting the back of your throat. The rhythm is sloppy and it only takes one odd, pointed thrust to make you choke raggedly..

You cough, pulling off him.

Your sucking had been messy and clumsy, you smear spit all over his groin. Your chin shiny slick when you pull away for a much needed breath.

Neteyam is panting harsley, his face screwed tight in concentration.

“Am I doing okay?”

You’ve never done this part, and that idea that you might be doing it wrong gnaws at you. It’s a familiar uncertainty, one that you’d been warring with since you’d met the darker Na’vi. Neteyam was so sure- so good at all things, and while his competency was part of his appeal, it made you worried that he might realize just how fucking unexperienced you are.

His eyes open, fingers unclenching from the fist in your hair and coming to cup your jaw. You kiss his thumb when it runs across your lips, chase it with the tip of your tongue.

“You’re being such a good girl for me, Y/N. You almost made me come, I was barely able to catch myself”

The sensations stirring in your belly makes you groan, hug his legs tighter, your head pressed against his lower belly. The praise makes you feel lightheaded. Very much like you aren't really in this moment-

He clocks the slight change, on the way you’re clinging to him. He suddenly doesn't want the power dynamic, he doesn't want to leer over you any longer. Not with the sweet little nest you’d made right there just waiting to be used

“Is that what you wanted?” Neteyam wonders as he herds you, gentle but sure, back into the tangle of blankets. You go willingly, back resting against the padding, “To make me come?”

He likes this so much better. You all burrowed into the covers. He wants to pur at the sight of you, wants to dig you deeper into the nest. Cover your body with his own and never let you out.

“Mhmm” you stare up at him with big eyes. “O-of course I did. I want to know that I can bring you pleasure”

At his strong body as he crouches, shuffling forward on his knees. He’s as naked as the day Eywa brought him into this world. He’s something out of an ancient song, so bewitchingly beautiful. All of those sharp, jagged angles-

And yet he smiles at you so tenderly.

“You’re so sweet” Neteyam’s voice is a honeyed croon “Always trying to make me feel good. But I need you to feel good too- I need you to be comfortable with me”

“I am comfortable with you-”

“Are you?” Neteyam inquires, his hands skimming up your legs that are spread round his waist. Starting near your ankles, his palms skim up the firm lines of your calves, trace your knees. So patient in his exploration of your turquoise skin.

You’re panting shallowly at his touch on your thighs.

His bony fingers play with the plush flesh, digging into where your blubber meets hip. Squeezing at curiously. You feel exposed, giddy and scared at letting him touch you.

It’s not like that night at the beach. Not rushed in the shadows.

He takes his time, his golden iris’ searing in the fire light as he appraises you. You’ve never felt…so seen. You’d never had anyone take the time to look at you, like this. Boys in the clan had shot you greedy glances as you matured and came of age and as the niece of the reigning Olo’eyktan, you’d become accustomed to having eyes watching your movements, judging- positively or negatively you never really knew.

It makes you want to run, that look on his face. All intense, focused in only on you. It’s too much, you want to curl into a ball. Away from all of this attention. Want to read his mind- try to understand what he’s seeing. What he wants.

So you can give it to him.

His fingers reach for your embroidered tweng, nimbly working the knots.

“Nete?” you breathe, your voice shaky with nerves.

Still, you raise your hips. Helping him slip the fabric from your body.

The inside of your thighs shine in the flickering glow. The juncture of your body sticky and ready for him. His nostrils flare, his thin tail shoots straight in the air. Stock still.

He’s breathing hard, gulping in lungful's of the air that's swimming with the scent of your pheromones. The scent of your wet cunt.

Emboldened by the sight you spread your legs, knees falling open. Revealing where you're hot and pulsing. The baby blue lips of your pussy are puffy, unfurling into a pretty rosy color as you bare your insides to him. Your hole twitches, pulses with your racing heart rate.

His gaze on the most hidden part of yourself makes you hot. It's secret, just for him. Just for his big honeyed eyes.

You reach down, spreading yourself with your fingers- your hard clit poking out of its little hood in a way that has Neteyam groaning. His shoulders shaking as he turns his head- like he just can't bare the view. You fingering your own cunt, spreading it wide for him would be burned into his corneas for the rest of his days.

Your fingers are soaked, barley dipped into yourself yet covered in your own arousal. You bring them up to Neteyams quivering lips-

He gasps, gaze snapping back to yours as you wipe your shiny slick over his cupids bow.

“Fuuuuuck” he hisses, grabbing your thin wrist bruisingly hard. Holding your feminine hand to his face, helping you to rub your wetness along his mouth.

You’re in love with him.

You have been for months. Your heart had pined for this moment. To share this with him, to be able to scent him. To hold him. To mate him.

You don't have it in you to wait any longer.

“Please” you gasp as his hot tongue delves between your fingers, tracing your knuckles.

“Please what?” he mumbles, his mouth busy collecting any and all of your essence that he could reach.

You’re overwhelmed, shaking. You think you may start crying- your eyes sting harshly. As harsh as the sting of your empty womb. “I-I-I don't know. Please. Just please-”

A flash of lightning strikes across the sky outside, so bright that the pod lights up for a moment with its vicious neon purple glow.

The two of you look at each other in a light that's new, foreign. His long dark braids look something like a halo.

Neteyam can see the tears gathering in your eyes. The desperation in the green orbs.

“Y/N” He breathes, lowering his head to yours. His forehead resting against your own as he clutches your hand from his mouth to his chest so that you can feel the way that it's racing. “oel ngati kameie. I’ve only ever seen you-”

You gasp, lips searching for his.

He repeats it into the pecking kisses. He wants you to know, to understand that this was all he’d ever wanted.

A woman, warm and loving and all his, in his bed.

He’d laid bruised and bloody on the battlefield dreaming of this. Thinking that it was too far out of his reach, that he could never have it. Though the woman in his fantasies face had always been blurry- he knew it had always only been you. Eywa had plucked him from the forest, from everything he knew, and plopped him in the middle of the ocean.

To bring him to you

You reach for your kuru, the thick braid easy to find in your loose hair. You need this, before he slips into your body you need to be connected to his soul. You’re gagging for it, shaking as you offer him everything you have to give.

Neteyam brings his own kuru over his shoulder and your stomach flops dangerously.

There’s a moment of stillness.

The storm rages steadily outside, the platter of rain on the canvas roof consistent. The howling of the wind strong- and yet all you can hear is your own heartbeat. Neteyams breathing. There are no more words to be spoken. No, they’d only get in the way. What the two of you are doing is ancient, older than Pandora itself. Its the base for all life, for all connection.

The tendrils at the end of your kuru glow, a lilac haze as they reach desperately for Neteyams own. Straining, writhing in a way that you’d never experienced.

Only calming as they connect with what they truly want. They bind together seamlessly, and the bond is sealed.

Tsaheylu is made.

The air is forced from your lungs in a breathless whimper at the contact. You can hear Neteyams own sounds too. But no, that's not really it.

You’re not hearing him, you’re feeling him.

His soul, his essence is bright and dancing. He’s stronger then anything you’ve ever felt, instantly seeping bone deep. He feels like the forest at dawn, like the last moment before the evening eclipse over the ocean.

You’d heard stories of the first time mates make Tsaheylu. Of course you had. Some had been dirty and scandalous, leaving you blushing. But most had been whispers of reverence.

There was nothing like it. Being connected to another Na’vi body, mind and soul was an experience that no one could truly put into words.

You get it now.

It's all consuming. Overwhelming. Euphoric in a way that you didn't know could exist.

You and Neteyam blur. You’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

His forehead grits against yours as he pants, lost to the sensation of you. Of him. Of the bond.

His arms twine around your middle, hauling you as close as possible. He wants to crawl into your skin, wants to dig so deep into you that he will never return to the outside world. He’s only yours, from now until the day he returns to the All Mother.

“I’m yours” you reply through the haze. The words spill through the neurological connection. He doesn't need to speak them out loud.

And neither do you. You needn't tell him what you want. He can feel it, can feel the hot pulsing of your desperate cunt. He grabs ahold of his hard cock and leads it to where you need him. He doesn't even need to look, though a part of him wants to watch you take it.

You cry out as you’re breached for the first time. Your virgnally tight body clinging to every inch of him as he sinks slowly into you. The sensations new and dizzying. Everything is too much, and at the same time not enough. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck as you choke on the stretch of it all.

“You have to relax for me, shh, it's okay. Don't tense up or else it will hurt more” He soothes you, because he can feel it all. Tsaheylu a feedback loop. It hurts, there’s no way for him to have completely eliminated the pain. But he works you slowly through it. Let's you take all the time you need as he carves out his place within your body.

His sharp hip bones meet yours and you shudder.

“You okay?” he worries as you shift against the large intrusion. Your hips shifting, testing. You just shake your head and bury it in his neck. Eyes screwed tightly shut as you try to adjust to him.

It takes a long moment for the burn to fade from pain…to something else. Something itchy and nagging.

“Mmm” your hips move in slow, restless, circles. Electric shocks racing up your spine, flowing through your kuru as his heavy length rubs a spot within you that feels so good “Move, ugh, move”

“Slowly” Neteyam starts to adhere to your plea’s. Trying not to give into his need to snap into you.

“Cant-ah. Feels so weird” you grunt, trying to nail that place inside of you again. Your gummy walls pulse around him, your body begging him to help. To make you feel good. “Move, move. Please, I need you to move faster”

“So fucking tight” he gasps as he pulls out, only able to get about halfway free, before your strong hole is sucking him right back in. “Never felt anything so tight”

He feels your flare of jealousy, uncomfortably hot, through the bond.

“Never- you can't be with anyone else again” you warn him through shuttered breath. Your nails digging into the smooth skin on the back of his neck, under his braids.

“My love-” his amused chuckle tickles your ear.

“No. You can never even look at anyone else again. You’re only mine” you seethe, your hips grinding into his dangerously. Encouraging him to take you. To pound into you the way you needed him to. “I’ll kill them”

Neteyam's groan echoes around the space of your newly shared home.

His thrusts grow strong, careless. Pulling out and then sinking back into your squelching heat, all the way to the hilt. Your body's jerk with the rhythm of his fucking. You hold on tightly for the ride, your knees hugging at his ribs as you give him all the room he needs to move inside of you.

His tip bully’s it’s way deep, too deep. You wail as it kisses your cervix. That sharp pain back, combined with the pleasure it was unbearable.

“Ah” you arch into the sensation, confused at the way your body welcomes it even though it stings, and feels scarily new. Neteyam grabs your left leg, raises it high until your calf rests on his shoulder.

Your eyes cross, your mouth falls open in a wordless gasp.

Everytime you try to suck in a breath, he fills you right back up. Hits that secretive, sensitive spot relentlessly. Its maddening, makes you shake all over-

“Neteyam” you warn, reaching for his hand. He just grabs your fingers, pins your arm over your head, hand held captive by his fingers as he starters down at you.

“Yeah? Are you there?” His thrusts turn very pointed, deliberate “Come for me, come all over me”

You’re tightening up quickly, screeching as you clench around his plowing cock. The waves of pleasure are almost too much, feels too good. Your stomach quivers, and it’s like you dove from the highest cliff as you’re struck by your first orgasm.

It’s so good you can taste it-

-You choke on it as Neteyam continues his relentless pace. Not slowing down even a little bit as you struggle. Left hypersensitive, still pulsing around him as your orgasm is drawn out. Never ending. You’re blubbering, trying to ground yourself, holding onto him as he pistons inside of you.

His panting breaths are damp as he hides in the skin of your neck.

Holds his body to yours as he works himself to his release. One of his hands still keeps your arm pinned above your head- the other works his way to your leg that’s loose around his hips. Props it up to join the other, so that both of your legs dangle over his broad shoulders. Bends you into a mating press that has you screaming. Truly unable to take in a breath as he displays all that strength of his- and holds you down. Makes you take what you’d wanted to much.

It doesn't take much at all- when his sharp canines graze your shoulder you’re gone for. You don't think you’d truly come down from the last orgasm when you fall into another. You can't even take in a breath to make sound, you just wheeze as you come.

Neteyam had wanted this to be special. Had wanted to do it right- to mate you the way that your ancestors had intended.

As he bites into your shoulder, his teeth breaking the skin- he seals the bond. Its painful, and the sharp metallic twang of your blood fills his mouth as he fills your pussy with his seed.

His groin presses against yours, holding you still. Keeping the rivers of his release inside of you. You're whimpering and twitching, yet still he pins you.

His warm, slippery tongue laves against the sluggishly bleeding wound.

He hopes that it sticks.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The hours drone by and day turns to night, the dusk not bringing an end to the storms. If anything they get louder. The rain falling heavier, thunder roaring startlingly. You are so beyond fucking glad that you don't have to brave it, that you instead get to laze in bed. Wrapped up in warm, worn blankets.

Your body melts into Neteyam’s as he massages every inch of exposed skin. His strong fingers digging into your tired muscles as you lounge against him, cheek laid comfortably on his chest.

You feel boneless, but also more powerful than you ever have before. You’re a woman mated now. All of those seasons spent alone, all of the whispers. They don't matter now.

You have a mate.

You hug Neteyams waist a little tighter, hiding your smile in his dark skin.

He chuckles, can feel how proud you are of yourself through the bond. He hasn't bothered to disconnect your kuru’s after he’d slipped out of you, not ready to release the Tsaheylu. You we’re more then happy to be connected for him for as long as he liked.

You think you might enjoy this part as much as the sex. The afterwards is soft, he attendants to you diligently. You can feel his affection pour off of him in waves. It's thrilling, all of it. This whole day had been filled with fresh experiences. You feel brand new, a different side of yourself coming to the surface.

You’d never been anyone’s lover before.

It makes you all giddy and excited, being his. Having him be yours.

You tell him things you’d never told another soul, not even Tsireya. All your secrets come flowing out of you like a babbling brooke. You want him to know all of you, even the embarrassing scary parts.

“I can see it” He chuckles heartily at the story from your childhood. The one about a bet gone wrong, one where Roxto had been drug down the depths by an angry mother Kapapal(octopus). You’d jumped in after him even though you we’re smaller then a shell shocked Ao’nung, it had all ended in a cloud of black ink that had stained your skin for weeks “You’re my brave little warrior, aren't you?”

“You are the brave one between the two of us. It’s not every tsamsiyu (warrior) that can pass two Iknimaya”

Neteyam shrugs, his hands working on a knot between your shoulder blades “Things like that have never been hard for me. It's simple when there's a task that I can see the end of. It’s like- that is the way my mind works. Anything can be done if you keep your head down and figure out a way whether through. Lo’ak calls me a bootlicker for it. Maybe he’s right, I do not know”

Your fingers dance along a raised, jagged scar. It's on his lower stomach, stretched out across his right hip. It had to have hurt, even now you can feel how deep the scar tissue runs. His body is littered with them. Little tokens from the war. It hurts you that his learned coping mechanism is essentially just sticking it out. Bracing himself against the pain and swallowing it down.

He’d never have to do that again. Not with you.

You cup his jaw “Your brothers not the brightest ilu in the pod, I wouldn't pay any mind to his opinions. It’s why I’m glad that him and Ao’nung are friends now- their voices cancel eachother out”

Neteyams laughter is ringing and contagious.

He’s beautiful when he’s given the opportunity to be vulnerable. When he’s not weighed down with the weight of all of his responsibilities. His eyes glitter when he talks about the forest, about his grandmother and the Omiticaya people. About the vast mountain ranges and dense, endless greenery.

Even when he speaks of the war and training, its not with the sadness that you know you’d be overcome with if you ever had to face such adversities. He was good at following orders and giving them, had an entire air fleet that was at his control.

He mentions a name a few times. A female name. You can help but notice it.

And its stupid. Really it is, but you recall how he'd said you were the tightest he’d ever been with. How many women had be been with, back home? You knew that he wasn't a virgin. He’d never put up that front with you but still-

You busy yourself with the still raw tattoo that sprawls over his right arm. Across his shoulder and down his bicep. It’s still hot and healing. Easy for you to focus on, your withdrawing nature flaring up protectively. You’d rather focus on tending to his wounds then being stupidly upset about his past romps.

You retreat from his arms with a small smile, gently breaking Tsaheylu-

“Hey!” Neteyam protests, reaching to pull you back, but you just giggle at his antics. Standing up and scurrying to the other side of the hut.

Your belongings were scattered all over the place- but still. You dig for the little jar. Giving a triumphant little “aha” when you find it.

He pouts as you plop back down next to him, demanding you give you his arm.

“It’ll get infected if you don't take care of it” you warn as you spread the viscous liquid over the slightly raised ink. Rubbing it into his skin, blowing on it when he hisses about the sting. Kelp Jelly tended to do that. Still, he leans into your touch.

“Let me put some on your shoulder” he requests when you’re finished nodding at the scabbing bite on the juncture where your shoulder met your neck. You allow him to dip his long fingers into the jar, to spread it over your own wound.

“Did I upset you?”

“No”

“Liar” he sighs, working the jelly in a thick layer “I felt it through Tsaheylu. Was it the war? I don't have to talk about that if you don't want me to”

“Of course it wasnt that…” your lips purse as you try to pick your words in a way that will least embarrass you. Try and fail. “Who’s Zeytawni?”

Neteyam gives you a long blank look before a smile cracks across his handsome face. His braids sway as he shakes his head, his thumb brushes soothingly at the skin around the bite.

“You are the most jealous woman I’ve ever met” He’s extremely amused, it makes your cheeks burn and a haughty protest raise in your throat.

“I am not! And if I was-am I not rightfully jealous? The two of you we’re obviously close” you splutter because it's not fair! That it’s all a joke to him. You’re always so flustered and he’s always so collected “I know that you have had…women. I get to be curious about that. I’ve never had partners the way that you have. I don't have anything to compare it to-”

“Stop” Neteyam’s voice is sage but demanding. He puts the jar of healing salve down beside him- before his fingers spread across your bare breast bone. Pressing his palm firmly against your heart.

“There’s nothing to compare. Nothing at all. Please do not ever break the bond again before you ask me about other women. You could’ve have felt for yourself what I feel about all of this.”

Your mouth quirks as you roll his words over in your head. You know he’s right- that you had a one way ticket into his head just moments ago. But maybe you’d been scared about what you’d find. Still naively clinging on to your insecurity.

“I'm just not very experienced. You know that. I’d barely done anything with anyone before you” You whisper, feeling smaller than you we’re.

“That’s…not a bad thing. Not for me. I don't like the idea of anyone else touching you” Neteyam reassures you, but his jaw smarts. Like even thinking about this makes him a little sick.

You get a little thrill out of it “Why? Are you…jealous?”

He snorts. His amber eyes boring into yours for a moment before he speaks “You know exactly how I feel about the attention you get from the men in the village”

You giggle, reaching out to press a peck of a kiss to his cheek “No one ever sparked my interest.”

“Really?” He argues, scoffing a bit as he pickles on a loose thread of the bed mat “None of them seemed to get that hint, huh? They all thought they had a chance.”

You shimmy as close to him as you can get, molding yourself into his side. His arm raises so that you can press right under his armpit, skin to skin. Your hardening nipples graze the side of his ribcage.

You love this. It may not be exactly healthy but you do.

You love feeling like you're not the only one losing your damn mind over the idea of ever having to share what the two of you had.

You smother the side of his face in kisses, your lips pecking all over his cheeks. His nose. The corner of his lips- which purse as he gives a halfhearted return.

“You’re the only one who ever had a chance” you promise as you begin to drag wet open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He’d shed his many chokers, and his bare throat is just so pretty.

“Ahuh” he grumbles, but his head lulls, giving you more room “Even today, I watched so many head’s turn to watch you. As you readied to move into my hut, to live with me. It’s maddening”

You heat up at his words. You feel your core begin to pulse again. You want him like this all of the time, and you know that the future is going to be littered with attempts at getting your man this riled up as much as possible.

“Mark me up some more?” you suggest, casually as ever. Grinning when your mate groans a little at the idea “Cover me in your cum. Make me smell so much like you that no one will ever question who I belong to.”

You yelp, shocked, when his hand claps loudly against your ass.

Swatting it once in warning, before his big paw begins to grope at the hot flesh. For a moment you’re so surprised, so scandalized, that you freeze.

That’s just for a moment though. You’re quickly resuming your assault on his neck, your tail wagging excitedly behind you.

“You like this?” He phrases it as a question, even though the bastard already knows. As though he can't tell, can't feel how wet you are for him when his fingers slip between your cheeks and circle your hole. Your pussy's already futtering for him.

“Mhmm” you whine as he presses into you, fingers disappearing knuckle deep. Not slow, no. He starts to fuck you with them almost automatically “Of course I like that you want me”

He pounds you with his hand and you gasp into his ear, jutting out your sweet behind. Wanting him harder, wanting all three of his long digits pressed as far into as they can go. It feels almost like a punishment…

You think you might like that, too.

“Silly girl” He chastises as he plays your body like a flute “I’ll always want you”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The week passes by, although you truly wish it wouldn't- and slowly the rains start to clear. The storms fading into something docile, rainbows glittering as they catch on the many little windchimes you’d hung at the entrance of your home.

You and Neteyam don't leave the Mauri once. Completely enthralled with one and other. Intertwined too deeply to move far from the bed mat. He keeps you fed, cleaned and hydrated. Tends to any and all of your needs. Makes sure your greedy body is satiated-

“Ma Nete” you whine from your place among the blankets. The pout on your face is endearing, dramatic as anything though. "Don't go"

The two of you hadn't broken Tsaheylu in days. You could survive the separated bond for ten minutes.

“I have to go get more fresh water. We ran out last night- don’t look at me like that! I’ll be right back!” He’s refastening the leather straps of his tweng. He just has to go as far as the center of the village, to the well.

You’re not having it. You have no idea how he had wrestled his way out of your arms, but this wouldn't do. There we’re still women in the throws of Fertility Season. You could hear the caterwauling. He couldn't just go out there with all of his muscles-

“But paskalin(honey). We can go get water later. Together” you protest and he shakes his head, grabbing the water pail next to the fire pit.

“Or I can go get it now and get it over with” he sniggers, making a move for the doorway. He’s reaching for the flap, reading himself to leave.

When your pitiful moan rings through the air.

He should be strong, should be a dutiful mate. Needs to clear his head enough that he can take care of you-

Instead he turns back.

You’re a dirty cheat, he’s learned that fact during the last week. A sore loser. A little brat who couldn't take no for an answer. He’d spend the rest of his days spoiling you rotten and he blames Tonowari for it. He wonders if the older man had ever given you healthy boundaries;

You’d do just about anything to get your way. Resort to nasty tricks that you know he couldn't resist-

This being one of said tricks.

You’re on your hands and knees, your spine a perfect arch as you raise your ass into the air, and keep your head and shoulders pressed into the bedding. Your thighs parted wide as you reach back, tugging on your cheeks.

Presenting beautifully for him. The perfect picture of submission.

Your still wet holes wink at him hypnotically. Luring him back like a fish on a hook.

His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, hard. Feet rooted in place as he battles with himself.

“Y/N…” He warns, even though he knows it’s futile. He can't resist you like this.

Can't resist you at all.

“Come taste” you purr, wiggling your hips as your delicate fingers trace the furl of your sphincter. “Tastes so good, huh, paskalin? It's cause I'm full of your cum. We taste so nice combined”

Neteyam groans, deep and gutted, and the pail clatters to the floor.

He dives back in, face first.

Not at all ashamed over the fact that his previously unswayable sense of duty deems to dissipate when it comes to you and your demands.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

The village is coming back to life. Couples rejoining the world after their week spent intimately tucked away. Slowly but surely Awa’atlu will return back to it’s everyday routine.

Jake maneuvers the walkways, smiling at people he passes. It had been much like this, in the forest. Fertility Season had been something he’d definitely had to get used to, a culture shock to the extreme, but once he realized how important it was to the Na’vi he’d got with the program pretty damn fast.

It's a sacred ritual, Neytiri had explained to him the first time he’d participated in the ritual. He had spent the week trying to keep up with his mate, completely surprised by the tantric, communal, act of sex.

It’s vital for their population, Norm and Max elucidated. They needed to have these seasons so that their tribes can stay afloat. If they don't, there weren't be enough babies born.

Whatever the true cause, it was an experience for sure. Back home in the forest as the Omiticayan Olo’eyktan, he’d been much more hands on. Running around like a chicken with his head cut off for weeks before the event. Organizing the hunt, making sure the coupling Na’vi were taken care of. Keeping the entire clan afloat.

It had been different this year, as most things we’re since the big move to the coast.

This year he was just another Metkayina clans member. He and his mate still had children under their care and didn't feel the lure of the heat as intensely. He wondered if after Tuk came of age, would Neytiri want to go back to being active participants?-

They Sully’s had been of service where they could, picking up any slack. Helping with odd jobs. Kiri had been a great help to Ronal, her quick healing hands had come in handy to the heavily pregnant Tsahik. Tuk beaded bracelets and delivered them, along with little prayers, to everyone's doorsteps. Neytiri had become quite the fisherman in her time on the Island and made sure to double up on her hunts, less anyone need a meal. Even Lo’ak had pitched in, an aid when needed. The kid bitched about it the whole time, but Jake had reminded him that it would be him in the mating couples’ place soon. Lo’ak had rolled his eyes and shrugged his dad off. Jake didn't miss the way his youngest son shot a very busy Tsireya a lingering look.

There was one very big presence missing though.

His eldest son had always been his right hand man, and especially during busy times of the year such as this, Neteyam was the always biggest help. Running around almost as much as Jake, taking on any and all responsibility. Completing even the most minute of errands.

Another change this year. His eldest had finally chosen a mate. And had been locked away in his own Mauri for the past week. Participating in Fertility Season for his first time.

It's why Jake was sent on this little task. Neytiri had filled a large woven basket with more food. Pitchers of well water, replacements of medicinal herbs.

“Isn't this a little much? We just got them all stocked up-”

Jake hadn't even bothered to finish his sentence, cut off by his wife’s withering glare. He’d just taken the basket and promised to deliver it safely.

He adores that she’s such a good mother to their children, he’d lacked that back on Earth. Him and Tommy had all but raised themselves. But did she have to be such a…hover mom? Neteyam had made it clear that he wanted some space to mate with Y/N. Private from his bustling family.

Jake couldn't deny that he’d missed his boy. Was a bit worried about him. Neteyam been so against mating back in the forest, rejected any and all proposals. Fertility Season could be…alot, to say the least. A marathon that even the most experienced had trouble running. Jake wasn't ashamed to say that he’d fainted his first time. Neytiri had almost killed him.

He’ll just check in quickly. Drop off the goods. Make sure no one is unconscious. It’ll be fine, most everyone has come out from the haze of the Season anyway. The two of you we’re probably just recovering from the week. Cleaning up-

As he reaches the Mauri, he realizes how wrong he was.

Your moans can be heard through the walls. Syrupy and raspy, you sound worn out. Yet nowhere near stopping.

“Neteyam- ugh-right there. Right there”

Jakes ears flatten against his head and his eyes go comically wide.

“Take it, Y/N. Fuck-”

Jake abandons the basket by the door and hightails it the fuck out of there before he hears anymore. Na’vi are different about sexuality. Far more open. There’s no stigma or shame, just love and acceptance. He’d grown to appreciate it during his years on Pandora.

That being said, Jake had no desire to hear his eldest son fucking his mate. Grown man or not. Call it the tawtute in him.

He’s still a little mortified, even when he makes it back to his own Mauri. Neytiri is sat by the firepit, slow roasting a recent catch. His other kids are nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” she questions as he plops down. Her husband looks a bit shell shocked.

Jake takes a beat, before turning to her. A peculiar look on his face “I’m pretty sure we’re going to be grandparents soon. Like, very soon. Like as soon as possible”

Ah. Her husband and his earthly modesty.

She can't help but laugh at it. After all these years, he still was so easy to fluster. Her sister and Tsu’tey had spent their first Fertility Season under the same roof as the rest of the family. It wasn't odd, or frowned upon.

A part of her wishes Neteyam had done the same so that she could take better care of him and Y/N.

“If the Great Mother wills it, yes” She pats his five fingered hand encouragingly.

“There is no way that girl isn't pregnant right now. Don't you think I’m too young to be a grandpa?”

“No. You are very old now, my love. Look at all of that gray in your hair” Neytiri jests, pointing out the silvery webbing that had started to sprout from Jakes dreads.

“Skxawng!” He swats at her and the two of them break into giggles as he takes out his knife and starts to cut the vegetables, helps her prepare dinner.

After all of the years, their rapport is easy. They move in harmony. She is very excited that her eldest son has finally found someone to build with. He had been so picky, she was worried he might end up an eternal bachelor, forever fated to take care of his siblings.

Neteyam deserved so much more than that.

“I miss having a prrnen(baby) around. Tuk has grown so fast. My time to birth children has come and gone, I am ready for grandchildren. Though I wish they could be raised in the forest” Neytiri shoots her husband a look “They will need us to guide them through it. To protect them. Family is our fortress, that is what you say. Our family is growing, Ma Jake”

Neytiri had been younger than her son is now when she birthed him.

She had no doubts that he was capable of raising a family. He’d helped them raise theirs. Always more of a parental figure than a sibling. She’s factual as she reminds her husband. He’ll be a fun grandpa, he decides. Paw Paw.

He gets a blank confused stare in response. Tuk comes running in, talking a mile a minute, before Neytiri can question Jake about what a “pah-pah” is.

Neytiri prays to the great mother before she goes to sleep that night. For healthy pregnancies and easy deliveries. For her eldest son and his mate’s happiness.

That Fertility Season had been good to them.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Welp, welp, welppppp. I finally finished it. I want you guys to know how hard it was to get this finished. The amount of WIPS that sit unfinished in my drafts is actually sad.

But this story feels special. The response I have gotten to it has made me happier than I can express.

I'm so grateful to be a part of this fandom. Really. Pandora is such a fin world to escape into and play in and the fact that you guys enjoy reading what I consider self therapy is fucking amazing.

Next chapter will be full of pregnancy and pregnancy talk!!! If that’s triggering at all please just be aware that it’s coming and you can skip it if you’d like.

Also thinking about who’s POV we want to see next. Lo’ak’s maybe?

Again I want to remind you that I write what I want to read. I know that Na’vi don’t really have beds or blankets buttttt- I want them to.

Is there rice on Pandora? I’m not sure. My readers gonna eat some rice though.

Was it necessary for Neteyam to bite the shit out of her to seal the deal? Yup. Cause I wanted him to.

Part Four should be out in the next couple weeks. Thanks for being patient with me!

The taglist for this story is closed buttttt I am really good at linking my posts so just keep an eye on my page/Masterlist for updates!

Til next time babies.

Leave me all the good comments- you may get a teaser faster if you do lol

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x reader #aged up neteyam #neteyam x metkayina!reader #mating

[therainscene]

I think I might have figured out what the Mind Flayer really is.

This theory has been percolating in my brain for a while now; it hasn't really finished baking yet but I wanted to get the gist of it down before The First Shadow debuts.

Let’s begin at the Hawkins National Lab, 6th November 1983. For the second time in her young life, El faces terrifying and deeply traumatic circumstances which cause her powers to lash out and rip a gash in the fabric of reality.

Meanwhile, across town, Will is doing what every queer 12 year-old has done and finds an excuse to spend an extra moment alone with his crush.

His little gay heart is as aflutter as the garage lights.

(Strange, that. The lights, I mean -- considering that he's on the other side of town from the lab. Do you suppose the Demogorgon trekked all the way to Mike's house and quietly followed him home again?)

Will heads home, lost in thought as he cycles past the lab. Is he thinking about how sweet his new X-Men #134 is gonna be? Or is he thinking about something even sweeter? The lights flutter again.

And something in front of him notices.

Will has always been noticeable: his clothes, his mannerisms, his interests -- they've always attracted the attentions of bullies. Now something new -- or maybe something that was always there and is only now making itself known -- has attracted the attentions of a monster.

He runs home, he calls for help, but he's alone, there's no escape. He races to the shed and loads a gun like his father taught him -- but it's not in his nature to be violent. He freezes, petrified.

The lights surge as his terror wrestles control of his powers and uses them to puncture an escape route in the fabric of reality.

Why were we so quick to believe that the Demogorgon -- a minion of the guy whose whole thing is his inability to open gates -- was able to open its own temporary portals in S1 and then never again?

Will could plausibly have been responsible for every temporary portal in S1: he’s at the Byers house when the Demogorgon pushes through its walls; he's on the run to Castle Byers when Nancy stumbles across that portal in the woods; and he's plugged in to one of Vecna's vines during the finale -- something we see Vecna plug himself into when he remotely opens gates in S4.

There’s one exception though.

Barb likely slipped through a gate in Steve's pool, but how could Will have opened that one when he was in his bedroom at the time, talking to his mother through the lights?

Let me ask you this: isn't it interesting that of all the injuries Barb could have obtained in her passage to the Upside Down, she got a nosebleed?

I think powers are more common than we’ve been led to believe, and gates are a last-ditch self-defense mechanism for anyone with powers.

This is why the four curse victims’ deaths opened a gate: Vecna pushed them to their breaking point to artificially trigger the self-defense response. Those headaches and nosebleeds weren't caused by Vecna directly, but by their own powers acting up as they inched towards oblivion.

[Shoutout to @givehimthemedicine's underrated powers and blood theory for the idea of Vecna's Curse being the overcharging of his victims' own powers.]

It was already pretty obvious that Vecna's Curse is a metaphor for suicide, and this theory reinforces it: every kid who gets targeted by the horrors of Hawkins for being "different" tries to find some way to escape.

Willel's misfortune is that their powers are considerably more easily manifested than the average person's. Byler tells the story of visible vs invisible queerness, but that's just a reflection of the larger theme at play in the show: the visible and invisible ways kids are othered and abused.

Max's trauma was a quiet thing that came from within and festered until it was almost too late to save her... but Willel's trauma manifests as a giant monster that openly hunts them down.

And I'm being literal when I say the Mind Flayer is a manifestation of their trauma.

We know that Vecna fashioned the Mind Flayer from a cloud of black particles he found in the Upside Down, but where did that cloud come from? The Upside Down is a mysterious enough place that it's easy to assume the Shadow is native to that realm... but what if it isn't?

The Mind Flayer is heavily associated with repression -- Will gradually lost his memories while he was possessed, and El lost her powers when the sliver of Flesh Flayer wormed its way into her leg.

But Will has mysteriously been without powers ever since leaving the Upside Down, and we've seen El lose memories too: her memories of surviving the lab massacre, in which she didn't simply escape by opening up a gate, but by disintegrating her attacker into black particles.

The Mind Flayer doesn't cause repression -- it is repression.

There must have been countless generations worth of traumatized children who took the extra step El did and sent their abusers -- or at least their memories of abuse -- into that hidden realm beyond the gate.

(There's also the possibility that Mr. Time-is-Just-a-Social-Construct is stuck in a time loop of some sort -- maybe the massacre has repeated hundreds of times, and Dimension X is a timeless graveyard of El's attempts to repress her trauma. This would explain why Henry seems to have both disintegrated and survived: we were watching at least two different iterations of the massacre all along.)

Whichever way you slice it, it's a perfect fit: the tool Vecna uses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse isn't some bizarro alien from an alternate dimension, but a direct consequence of the cycle itself.

The Mind Flayer tells us that escape alone doesn't work as a long-term solution: it might help you survive the initial abuse, but if you don't address the effect it had on you...

...it will come back to wreck havok.

[Edit: Click here for post-TFS thoughts on this theory]

#stranger things #will has powers #willel #byler #will byers #el hopper #max mayfield #barb holland #henry creel #mind flayer #my analysis

[inthememetime]

Alfred finds and adopts three homeless teens while the whole of the Batclan is away, the three teens are of course The Fentons. Alfred on the other hand had been dealing with a bit of Empty Nest Syndrome and takes the trio in, so by the time the rest of the Batclan filters back there are three extra people in the Manor but the Fentons deliberately ghost the rest of the residents.

I love this for four reasons:

The potential for Alfred, who wishes Bruce would stop adopting small violent children, realizing that HE is the same.

You can't tell me Alfred, Danny, Dani, and Jazz won't be BFFs. Jazz is the only (mostly) sane person in this house besides him. Dani absolutely WILL spy and report on injuries in exchange for more of that casserole. Danny and Alfred have similar sarcastic wit.

"If we had a nickel for every billionaire with a secret identity we know, we would each have 2 nickels. Which isn't a lot, but weird it happened twice."

The SHENANIGANS!!!!!

Shenanigans include:

At first, Alfred doesn't tell the Batfam because they're a family of detectives. Surely they'll notice. Over time, it becomes a contest of who can make them suspect the most without being found.

Alfred either playing it off or staring with a raised eyebrow when one of the Batfam asks why/if he's talking to himself.

Jazz can only be turned invisible in the nick of time so many times before somebody finds out about her. "It says here, Ms. Fenton, that you have a brother?" "Yes, Danny. He died. But don't worry, he got better!"

When Tim is forbidden caffeine for a week, Danny drinks his coffee super fast or Dani replaces it with chamomile tea with black food coloring.

Dani: "You know Dick, you really shouldn't do that."

Dick, after a moment of panic, realizing there's nothing in the room with him. "....God?"

Dani, realizing how much chaos she can cause: "yeah, that's me! God."

Danny and Dani take turns being human just to walk past open doors. They all look enough alike to Tim, Dick, Damien, and a young Jason in uncertain light that the rest of the fam has to do double takes.

When someone calls Constantine over as a favor, he takes 2 steps into the manner, says no, and RUNS.

"So I've heard the voice of God, and it sounds like a 14-year-old girl."

"....how hard did Bane hit you again?"

"God says Jason is the one who stole your book."

"...right ok."

Bruce decides he's gonna go be Batman while wounded. He snuck out, so Al calls his Secret Ghost Squad.

Batman is repeatedly interrupted (*cough* saved) by 2 OP glowing metas. Constantine will no longer cross Gotham's borders.

Danny: "You need more ectoplasm. You're a growing half-ghost."

Jason: *shoots the wall* "WHAT THE FUCK WHO WAS THAT?!"

Danny: would you believe it was God?

Jason: NO

Jason figures it out first because he's being parented by a dead guy. He actually doesn't mind that much because he gets to visit the GZ

Cass figures out second because she's observant.

Dick figures it out third by spraying 'God' with paint. He then realizes he attacked an invisible creature that can go through walls with no idea how to fight it.

Tim figures it out by deliberately putting salt in his coffee to see what would happen.

Damien finds Cujo. He is Upset that Cujo already has an owner. Danny tells Damien in exchange for Damien to stop yelling insults at him. (Dani calls him Weak for this, and tells Damien 15 minutes later because he thought she was calling HIM weak and had Opinions)

"Oh shit."

Steph bribes the 'house spirits' for prank help, and then tricks them. They tell her out of Respect.

Duke starts talking to himself about star output on his homework, gets stuck, and SpaceBoi helps. Duke's 10 minutes into stars actually being interesting for once before he realizes he's talking to a ghost.

Bruce has been introduced to them by Jazz. Alfred made her after the 4th sleepless night due to researching the surprise metas.

Dani: its cool dude, but now I have to go prank Tim. Bye!

Vlad shows up for a private meeting with Bruce Wayne. The ghosties reveal themselves in order to kick his ass.

Alfred is the only person who can get away with calling Danny 'Daniel' and Dani 'Danielle'. Anyone else has Serious Regrets.

The Joker breaks Alfred's leg in a bombing. He's never seen again. Danny, Dani, and Jazz are a little TOO innocent

#inthememetime #danny phantom au #ask answered #dp x dc #come ask me things! #batfam

[lixzey]

Letters

The Fourth Letter.

Timothée felt chills run down his spine. Eighteen letters—she wrote eighteen letters before she stopped writing. Why did she stop? She wouldn't just forget, right? Or maybe something happened.

Timothée sighed before picking up the fourth letter: June 28, 2023. Fourteen more letters after this. He carefully ripped the envelope open. He started to read, hoping to get some answers.

Dear Timothée, 

This is the fourth time I've been writing to you. I've kind of wasted all of my money on stamps. Which is utterly stupid, because you'd never read this. Or maybe you will? Maybe you're reading this right now.

Okay, I'll admit I kind of just had a fangirl moment. The thought of you reading any of my letters and touching the paper....

I really wish you're reading my letters.

Tiimothée chuckled. “I'm reading it, Y/N."

Anyway, I got partnered on a project with a girl who's also a fan of yours. Her name is Olivia. She invited me to her house, and her room was beautiful. There were photos of you on her walls and a few signed things. She told me that she had already met you. I told her I didn't believe her, and then she showed me a photo. You were smiling, your beautiful curls falling over your face, and you had your arms around her shoulders.

Oh, Timothée. I wish I could meet you so badly. Just to give you the biggest hug of your life. To let you know how much you are loved.

Because you are, you are absolutely loved by so many. Especially me. 

I love you so much, Timothée Hal. I really fucking love you.

But, we're worlds apart from each other. You're a well-known actor, and I'm just a girl with issues who is almost invisible to the world. Notice the difference?

Is it stupid to fall in love with someone who has no idea who you are? Is that stupid? To love someone you've never met? I haven't met you, but I feel like I've known you all of my life.

Oh, I almost forgot! I haven't properly introduced myself yet.

My name is Y/n L/n. 

There isn't a lot about me; I'm just a plain girl. A plain girl you'd never even notice. 

Well, I guess that's all for this letter. I'll write soon, I promise.

All my love,

Y/n. 

Timothée quickly put the letter down. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and searched for her name on every social media account he has.

But nothing came up.

“She doesn't have social media, great," Timothée muttered, putting his phone down.

He looked down at the basket. Fourteen letters are still unread. Maybe, just maybe, in those fourteen letters he'd find the answers he was looking for.

“Four down, fourteen to go.”

#timothée chalamet #timmy #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee #lil timmy tim #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamalabingbong #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x you #timothee x you #timothée x reader #timothée #timothée fanfic #timothée x you #timothée chalamet x you #reader insert

[callsign-rogueone]

fireproof - b.s.

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader (young Brennan and Duchess!) words: 1.4k 🏷: no book spoilers because this happens before the events of fourth wing hehe. more of bb bren and bb duchess. set soon after the events of allies, so read that first! near-death situation / mortal peril, but no actual injury happens. I promise these two will communicate their feelings soon lol

You come to a stop in front of Brennan’s door, heart pounding. You hadn’t thought about this part, and you’re not sure what to do; you don’t want to knock, don’t want to wake up any of the other cadets -- it’s still very much four in the morning, and you’re not supposed to be out of your room.

You’re not supposed to be talking to a second dragon, either, but here you are.

Brennan pulls the door open, sparing you the decision -- Marbh must have woken him up. He’s quick to usher you inside, scanning you for injury. 

“This is going to sound absolutely insane,” you breathe, “but Marbh is in my head right now.”

He blinks the sleep from his eyes, still not fully awake. “What?”

“Marbh is talking to me. I have no idea why or how, and for some reason, I can’t reach Ban to ask.”

You both hear the orange daggertail’s response at once. “She is otherwise occupied, so she sent me.”

“That’s not vague at all,” Brennan says aloud, exasperated.

“If you must know, she is defending herself to the Empyrean right now.”

Your eyes widen. “The dragon council? Why?”

“That is for her to explain to you.”

Brennan notices you’re fully dressed, your longsword sheathed across your back and a thick cloak covering your shoulders. “If you’re going to find her, I’m coming too.”

He turns to open the closet, digging through it for a clean pair of flight leathers.

Your eyes catch the dark orange of the relic spanning his back, your cheeks warming as you realize he isn’t wearing a shirt. You whirl around, averting your eyes, but the sight is already burned into your brain.

You’d never realized how toned he is.

Focus, you tell yourself, shaking the thought from your head. Ban could be in mortal danger right now. 

“Ready,” Brennan says, shouldering his sword.

It’s absolutely freezing out, still the thick of winter, though there’s been a break in the snow this week, so you don’t need to worry about leaving footprints as you cross the courtyard.

Brennan leads the way, taking a shortcut through a door you’ve never even noticed before. 

Making it out of the fortress is the easy part. You step into the wet grass, and you realize you have no idea where to go.

“Marbh?” 

Silence. Literal crickets. Great.

You gather the slack of the black string connecting you to Ban and pull gently, seeing where it leads. Northeast, to the flight field and the vale. You make the climb silently, worried that if you speak, you’ll somehow alert whoever is threatening Ban to your presence, or that you won’t hear them coming.

You’ve never been out here, never been allowed to -- you still aren’t, and you probably never will be, but you push the thought aside as you continue. It’s surprisingly deserted out here, which is as equally concerning as it is relieving.

It’s so dark out that you almost mistake the orange daggertail ahead of you for Marbh. Almost. 

Marbh isn’t missing an eye; this is Melgren’s dragon, Solas.

His jaws open, and you know there’s no time to run, to fight, to beg for your life.

You yank Brennan behind you, praying to whatever gods will answer that your body will be enough to shield him from the fire.

It is.

You hear the roar, feel the heat, see the grass on either side of you catch, but you’re protected by an invisible wall that extends from your outstretched hands, keeping back the flame.

You plant your feet, fighting to stay upright and to keep doing whatever this is. It feels like you’re pushing a thousand pounds uphill, but if you stop, if you falter for even a second, or it will cost both you and Brennan your lives.

The blast stops, leaving a wall of flickering orange fire in front of you that fades after a split second.

You nearly collapse as you step backward. You’re exhausted, soaked in sweat and overheated despite the chill of the night air, your heart pounding and lungs burning like you’ve been running for miles.

Brennan holds you up, undoing the clasp of your cloak to help cool you off.

The ground shakes with the landing of multiple dragons. If they’re as mad as Solas is, you’re absolutely cooked. You have no idea how to do that again, or if you even can.

You want to tell him how sorry you are that you’d dragged him into this, that you shouldn’t have knocked on his door to tell him, you should have just gone alone, that when you die together, you'll spend the rest of your afterlife making it up to him, that your biggest regret in life will be not telling him how you felt about him, that you--

“Sorry I’m late, noble one.”

You whip your head up to see a black leg next to you. Ban. She’s brought company — Marbh, and a giant brown swordtail that you’ve never seen before. Brennan’s eyes widen in shock, but he stays silent, his arms still wrapped around you.

Marbh does not greet you, instead stalking past you toward the other orange dragon and baring his teeth in warning.

Oh, gods, are they going to fight? If Solas kills Marbh, it’ll kill Brennan too.

The brown steps forward, cutting Marbh off and stepping dangerously close to Solas. They lock eyes for a moment, and Solas backs up, but the other takes a step forward, forcing him to retreat. Solas quits while he’s behind, taking flight and disappearing over the ridge.

The brown dragon looks back at you, satisfied with his work.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, still terrified. If he could scare off Solas, he must be even nastier — or he must have said something to him that made a difference.

He nods his head at you in acknowledgment before he takes off.

The sun is starting to rise over the mountains, casting the scorched ground in gold. 

Brennan’s hands are on you instantly, checking you over for injury, but you’re more focused on the perfect half-circle of green grass beneath you that hadn’t been burned.

“You’re a fire wielder,” Ban answers, sensing your confusion. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

It had taken Brennan just over two weeks to discover that he was a mender, the rest of your class following suit quickly. You're the only first-year who is yet to attend Professor Carr’s lectures. 

You were beginning to think you might not have been going to get a signet at all.

“We never doubted you for a second,” another voice purrs -- not Ban or Marbh.

You startle. “What?”

A different one replies, a gruff male who sounds absolutely terrifying. “We’ve been watching you with great interest. I now understand what she saw in you on conscription day.”

This has to be a dream. There’s no way that four dragons are in your head right now.

“You’ll get used to it,” yet another adds. Five? 

“How many of you are there?” you ask aloud, eyes widening.

Another answers. “A dozen, for now. I am sure that many others will come to accept you in time.”

“Accept me? What?”

“As a human ambassador,” Marbh replies, as if it’s obvious. “We haven’t had one in nearly a century. It was about time.”

You notice a new string now sits beside the one you share with Ban, multiple threads of different colors twisted together into a thick rope.

You laugh in shock, processing. “But why me?”

“Because of this,” Brennan says softly, touching your forehead, “and this,” he rests his fingertips against your chest, keeping them there.

Your eyes meet, and you feel that magnetism you’d felt the day he’d first spoken to you. Your heart races under his hand.

“The boy is correct. You are the first in two human generations with this deep of a respect for our kind.”

You’re still looking at Brennan. You bring a hand up to grasp his, completely forgetting about the soot coating your fingers. It smears against his skin, leaving streaks of black across his knuckles, but neither of you seem to mind.

“Now would be an excellent time,” Ban prods.

You part your lips, working up the courage, but someone else speaks first; a human, that Brennan hears too, and the both of you freeze, turning toward the voice.

“Of all the students that I’d think to find sneaking out, you two were certainly not on the list.”

Professor Kaori. He looks thoroughly unamused, eyeing the four of you and the burned patches on the ground with suspicion.

Brennan looks back to you, and you nod in permission — there’s no lying your way out of this, not when the whole riot will know of the night’s events in a matter of minutes.

“You’re gonna want to hear her out, Professor.”

#brennan sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #Brennan and Duchess #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #mine #I am so tired. brain is fried. I hope this makes sense.

[cassiefromhell]

Unexpected (pt 3)

Part One Part Two Part Four

Fanbase: acotar

Eris x Reader x Azriel

Summary: After being interrupted by your newfound mate, you go for a walk for him. The next morning, you find yourself busier than expected.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: very slight suggestiveness

A/N: Requests are OPEN! Check my pinned message for details on what I'll write <3 jjk, aot, mha, csm, acotar, etc! Additionally, I'm starting Throne of Glass soon, so those fics may be requested later!

Azriel stands there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His expression is perfectly neutral, eyes simply flicking over us both.

“Apologies for interrupting,” Azriel murmurs, gesturing between us.

Eris tucks me further behind him, and I grip the back of his shirt. “You are interrupting,” he scowls, glancing back at me. “Love, would you like to go back to the room?”

I open my mouth to reply, but not before Azriel does. “Actually, I wanted to talk to her.”

Shrinking, my body buries into the back of Eris, a futile attempt at turning invisible. I would rather jump into a pit filled with the Bogge, puca, and very angry pixies than have to face this other-mate.

Eris glances at me, raising a questioning brow. He’s leaving the decision in my hands: talk or run?

With a heavy sigh, I nod towards the Shadowsinger and release him. I’m going to have to face him at some point, especially if he’s already figured out the whole bond-pulling thing.

Eris presses a kiss to my temple, and leans down to murmur in my ear. “Remember that I love you no matter what. Good luck, and tug if you need me.” With that, he shoots Azriel a ‘hurt-her-and-you-lose-your-hands look, and stalks down the hallway.

I stare down at my shoes, arms crossed over my chest. When Eris vanishes from my peripheral vision, I feel both smaller and a little more relaxed.

Note to self: NEVER have my two mates in a room ever, ever again.

Azriel steps in front of me, gingerly offering a tanned, muscled arm. “Go for a walk with me?”

Hesitantly, very hesitantly, I take his arm. He shoots me a wary smile in return, and we’re off to the gardens.

I feel as though I need to hold my breath, like if I make one wrong move, or breathe wrong, or trip, then I’ll have betrayed Eris.

Azriel must feel how tense I am, because I can feel his intense gaze on the top of my head when he murmurs, “I don’t expect you to find this perfectly normal, or to be relaxed, or calm in any way right now… But I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, and I hope you know that.”

“You wouldn’t be able to hurt me,” I reply. “You wouldn’t be able to land a hit.”

He chuckles, grinning at me before returning to looking around. “These flowers are beautiful, who takes care of them?”

I shrug, reaching out my free hand to graze a fully bloomed hydrangea, bursting with violet pigment. “Mostly it’s the gardeners Eris and I picked out when he rose to power, though I dabble in my free time. Although, Eris has yet to let me go beyond watering these, after I killed the ones he keeps in our bedroom.”

“Not much of a green thumb, then?” 

“I kill people. It’s what I do. Not many people understand that, and neither does the greenery.”

A silence falls over the garden, and I immediately regret opening my mouth. Biting my tongue and internally cursing myself for having loose lips, I take a moment to thoroughly regret drinking so much alcohol.

“Maybe the mother doesn’t have such a cruel sense of humor,” Azriel murmurs, eyes unwaveringly focused on me. “We both kill. We follow whatever commands are given to us to the letter. And I don’t know about you, but I enjoy it a little, sometimes.”

His words seem to sink into my skin, taking root in my muscle and sending an unnamable feeling through my veins — better than adrenaline. My very soul seems to sing a little at the idea that someone else understands what no one else does, and suddenly I’m chewing my bottom lip, trying to not like this male.

I reach out to touch a large white rose, my fingertips skimming the petals gingerly. “You were right, these flowers are beautiful.”

“So are you.”

My heart flutters in my chest like a damn butterfly, and I mentally thrash against the feeling. 

You love Eris. Don’t fall for this male’s words. It’s only trickery.

“What do you think about this whole… situation?” I ask, deflecting his smooth compliment.

The shadows that have been swirling at my feet seem to pause, going thick and tense. The black swirls appear as though they have a personality of their own — or maybe they’re feeding off of Azriel’s emotions.

“It’s not… ideal,” he finally replies, scratching the back of his head. “I never exactly thought I’d have to share a mate with Eris of all people.”

“Eris is a good male. He’s caring, and kind, and… he’s my mate. We are made for eachother.”

The words leave my mouth before I realize the implication of them. 

That Azriel is also made for me, as if the Mother sculpted us of the same clay, or the Cauldron crafted our souls at once.

I pull my arm away from his, taking one, two, three steps away. I find myself needing distance.

Eyelids fluttering closed, I take a long inhale of the chill night air, scented with the flowers around us.

I allow myself to imagine what it could be like, just for a millisecond. Two mates. 

I’d still be High Lady of the Autumn Court — so long as Eris wants that after all this. I’d be doing that duty, whilst managing having two males to care for.

Azriel and I could get to know each other better. Maybe I’d begin to love him. And he would be the one to assist me on missions when I was in over my head. He’d bring me little gifts after particularly hard days, winnowing all the way to the Autumn court to see me. His shadows could wrap around me, bundling me close. I would feel so undeniably safe with him.

Maybe, I’d even have a home in the Night Court with him, or somewhere in between. I could spend some free time there, just the two of us.

And Eris… he’d still be my Eris. He would let me braid his hair when no one else is allowed to touch it. He would still help me learn how to grow flowers and cultivate a green thumb. He’d give me those little morning and night kisses that I savor so much. I don’t know how having a second mate would affect our sex life… but it’s really only possible for it to be improved, right?

“I have a proposal,” Azriel murmurs, startling me back to the present day.

When my eyes flutter open, I find the male standing in front of me, gazing down at me intently.

“I’m listening.”

“After your… mating ceremony… to Eris,” he says the words with a twinge of distaste. “We could get to know each other. I could show you Velaris—the city of starlight. You could stay there for a few days, maybe a week. You could get to know my friends, my family, even if you’re a little ahead on Rhys and Mor.”

It seems I wasn’t the only one fantasizing about the future.

Chewing my lip, I give him a quick once-over, allowing myself to take in his beauty. He is quite handsome.

“I think… I’d like that,” I whisper, discovering that my voice has gone completely hoarse.

He beams down at me, dark eyes glittering. He offers a tattooed arm once more, and when I take it, I allow myself one little tiny string of hope that everything will work out just fine.

“What do you mean, you don’t have the necklace?”

My favorite handmaiden in the palace, Fauna, shakes her head slowly. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I think it’s still in one of the jewelry safes under the palace.”

I raise my hand to rub it down my face, and then remember the kohl lining my eyes and the Fae glitter across my cheekbones. With a heavy sigh, I stand, giving Fauna a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. I know you don’t have that clearance — I’ll go get it myself.”

Fauna rushes to my side, adjusting my dress so that I will not trip. It’s the prettiest, most Autumn Court dress I own. It has an olive green bodice, flowing into shimmering skirts of buttery yellow, fading to deep orange and red. Little tiny leaves are embroidered into every inch of it, making it shine when I move like morning dew on a tree in Autumn. The sleeves are flowy and dance with my movements, giving me an ethereal grace.

The half-nymph adjusts the tiara in my woven-up hair, and then opens the door for me. I stride out, heels clicking down the hall as I go.

It is crucial that I have that necklace. It was Eris’s great-grandmother’s, and then his grandmother’s, and then his father’s, and now it is his. Well, mine, I suppose. It’s one of his many mating gifts to me. A double silver chain, with a sun-shaped pendant on one and a leaf on the other, all encrusted with diamonds and rubies.

I thought it had been brought up to our chambers days ago, but either I was lied to or someone put it back. 

Scowling, I walk a little quicker. I cannot be late to my own mating ceremony. Eris wouldn’t be mad, but I’d be angry at myself for letting it happen.

I knew I should have checked this shit last night.

Correction: I went to go and check this shit last night, and then a very drunken Eris distracted me.

“…I’m honestly shocked that you’ve muscled up and stayed,” a voice drifts through the hall.

I stop, watching as a shadow appears from around the corner. And then another.

Suddenly, I realize that voice is Cassian’s — which means he must be with Azriel.

And at the same moment, I realize that I’m incredibly curious.

I duck into a nearby room, casting a quick shield to mask my scent. Tucking myself against the wall, I use my magic to hide the sounds of my heart and breathing.

“Of course I stayed. She’s my mate. I have to be there for her,” Azriel replies, almost with a grumble in his tone.

Cassian chuckles, and their footsteps stop nearby — maybe even just outside the door. “She’s your mate, and about to be mated to another male.”

“I’m well aware.”

“With how competitive you are, I’m surprised you haven’t challenged Eris to a duel for her love.”

Azriel groans. “I’m not going to be that person. I want her to be happy.”

“Don’t act like you’re enjoying the situation.”

A smacking sound hits my ears, and I assume that Azriel landed a hit on the other Illyrian. 

“In what world would I be enjoying this? I think that she’s beautiful, and fucking perfect. Definitely not happy to see her mating Eris of all people, but she loves him. Plus, she’s agreed to come and stay in Velaris for a few days in a couple weeks,” he replies, with the tiniest hint of pride at the end.

“Oh, you dog. You got a wholeee date with the mated girl.”

Another smacking sound, and then another, and I’d place money on the fact that they’re straight up brawling in the hallway. I raise a hand to muffle my laughter.

“Stop it, you’re gonna ruin my suit,” Cassian whines.

“Then stop being a prick, and get better at clean brawling,” Azriel hisses, followed by a crash.

Silence.

“What were you just saying about clean brawling? Look at you, breaking shit in your mate’s palace—“

“Run.”

Footsteps race away instantly, and I remove my hand to let loose my laughter. Those two are easily the most chaotic duo I’ve ever met.

I keel over, laughing until tears spring to my kohl-lined eyes. I wipe them away carefully, straightening up and fixing my dress.

Turning to leave the room, I place a hand on the doorknob.

But the darkness around me is suddenly suffocating, and I get a nagging, nauseating feeling in my gut that something is wrong.

Movement in the corner catches my eye.

I stiffen, reaching for my dagger — which is not there, unfortunately for my life. Fauna had told me to wait until the last minute to slide it into a pocket of my dress.

Cursing under my breath, I pretend to draw a blade anyway. It’s significantly better than being obviously unarmed.

But I’m very much not alone, and very much unarmed.

And whatever or whoever this thing is, what it does next sends an inexplicable shudder through my body.

It breathes on me.

Tags: @cleverzonkwombatsludge (comment and ask to be added to tag list! <3)

#acotar #writing #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #eris x reader x azriel #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #high lord eris #pro eris vanserra #autumn court #mating ceremony #fanfiction #fanfic #mates #fated mates #two mates #cassiefromhell

[thanotaphobia]

kintsugi kid

tubbo and fit post-purgatory conversation, i'm just practicing voices ngl, and loving it

crossposted to ao3

⋆

The air smells like sea spray and blood.

Tubbo hasn’t really taken the time to clean himself up, since the boat left the shores of Purgatory. The dried blood has congealed under his nose, making his skin feel tight and warm whenever he scrunches up his face. He can feel it cracking when he moves, but he makes no effort to wipe it away. Occasionally, above the smell of the sea and his own sweat, he smells it. Thick and irony and tangy, in the way all blood is. There’s some spattered on his hands, underneath his fingernails– a cut on his arm has stopped actively bleeding, but every time he shifts the dried blood on top cracks and some more oozes out, sluggish.

He’s sitting on the left side of the boat, tucked up between the inside wall and the railing that leads to a short drop into the water. He’d thought about throwing himself off it, in the first hour or so. Swimming back to the island and trying to find the eggs again in the wreckage– a little radiation never hurt anyone. 

The mushroom cloud had kind of killed that vibe, though.

He’d chickened out before he could convince himself to jump.

Knees against his chest, Tubbo places one cheek on his leg and thinks. He stares out at the invisible horizon, the blue sea melting into the sky like there’s no line at all. He can barely tell where the clouds stop and the whitecaps begin. Occasionally, a spray of water comes up the side of the boat as it sails endlessly forward, piloted by some invisible force.

He’s alone, for the first time in a while. Thinking back on it, Tubbo actually can’t remember the last time he was truly by himself. For the past two weeks, there’s always been some member of his team with him, or on a voice call with him, even when they were physically separated. It was easier with a buddy system.

Tubbo knows there are others on the boat, sure. Phil, Fit, Bagi, Mouse, Roier– they’re all here with him, and maybe a few others who had swum out after they’d pushed away from the shore. He thinks about Tina. He thinks about Bad. He thinks about Dapper.

In the frantic first few hours, Tubbo hadn’t wanted to be alone. But Phil had collapsed the moment he felt he could, his wings ragged and limp behind him, dragging like two wet canvas sacks along the decks. Fit had stayed with him to watch over him while he slept, not by Phil’s request, but it was easy to see he didn’t need to ask. Phil found a couch inside the boat and practically fell into it, and Fit sat beside him. Within seconds, Phil had been out.

When Tubbo had tried talking to Roier, the guy had all but run away from him, unresponsive and distant. Bagi and Mouse were talking to each other in low tones, and he hadn’t wanted to interrupt. 

So he’d hidden himself away, the sudden silence of everything but his own breath and the waves is a strange relief.

He thinks of it like a debrief. Sitting on the edge of the boat, he’d taken mental stock of his body– all his limbs were intact. His mechanical pinky and ring finger were still in working order, although a bit creaky. His nose is definitely broken, sore and crooked in his own line of sight, and he’s got more cuts and bruises than he can count. Around his wrists are rope burns, red and shiny and angry. But despite the pain– all his joints move, none of his bones are broken, and he’s alive.

He’s alive.

Tubbo starts crying.

He hates crying– hates when his nose and throat get clogged up, and he’s already been pretty consistently spitting out blood for the past four hours, so he tries to hold it back. But the tears come faster than he can even admit to himself, so he stops trying not to cry and just sits there, silently staring out at the water as his vision blurs and tears drop from his cheeks to his knees, leaving dark stains in the fabric of his pants.

It’s just… he tried. He tried so hard to fight and to save Chayanne and Tallulah and all the other eggs. And none of it seemed to fucking matter in the end.

Tubbo’s not upset about losing to Phil. He knew that would be the outcome the moment the observer had said it was happening. Tubbo’s ability to win hinges on his confidence, and a one-on-one with Phil is something he knows he can never win. 

His insides feel like they should be on his outside. Raw, unfettered grief pours through him like water through a sieve, all his cogs and gears stuttering to a halt and skipping back over that thought like a broken record.

He tried. He tried. He tried.

For a while Tubbo just sits there, not even bothering to wipe away his tears as guilt rolls over him like one of the waves crashing against the side of the boat. He probably looks a mess, but he just doesn’t care. It’s too tiring to care.

He stops, though, when he hears footsteps. Sniffles and wipes away the wetness on his face, really only managing to smear it. Someone comes around the corner of the ship, gripping the railing as the ship pitches this way and that.

“Hey, dude,” Fit says. Tubbo turns his face away, feeling himself burn with shame as he does. He doesn’t want Fit to see him like this; doesn’t want Fit to see how much of a fucking mess he is.

“Hi,” he says, hurriedly trying to scrub the blood and tears from his skin. Fit’s footsteps come closer, then stop, and there’s a soft thud as he sits down. “Is– is Phil up?”

“Nah,” Fit says. “But Mouse and Bagi are watching over him. I wanted to come and see if you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” Tubbo says quickly– maybe a little too quickly, because when he finally looks over at Fit, the man is watching him with one brow raised. “Uh– how are you?”

“Oh, you know,” Fit says. He’s sitting criss-crossed, hands resting on his knees, back straight and expression quiet, but intense. “Mourning the loss of my son, yet again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tubbo says, and again, guilt tears at him. “God, Fit…”

“At least he’s alive, you know?” Fit says, and he looks away from Tubbo, glancing out over the water. “That’s kind of what I’m getting from this, now. Processing everything. Realizing that hey, at least they’re alive. And that’s better than not knowing.”

“I know,” Tubbo says, and he squishes his legs closer up to his body, curls himself into a tighter ball. “I just feel like I could’ve done more.”

“Same,” Fit says, eyes narrowing. Tubbo watches him for a second, then shuts his eyes. He hears Fit inhale sharply a second before he speaks, “He called me dad.”

“What?”

“Ramon. He called me dad, before we had to run.” Tubbo doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to open his eyes either, not when Fit sounds like that. Choked up and uneasy, so unlike himself that Tubbo wants to cry again. “He’s never called me that before. I don’t know why I’m so broken up about it.”

“He’s your kid,” Tubbo says. “Of course you are. I’m not any of the eggs’ parents but I still feel fucking awful, dude.”

“Hey now, you did your best,” Fit says, moving the topic away from Ramon in a way that Tubbo notices, but doesn’t point out. “Tubbo, don’t feel bad. You did what you could. You were an amazing leader.”

“I choked,” Tubbo says. “Fighting Phil. I knew I was going to lose, I just felt it in my gut. I can’t win against Phil. He’s… he’s Phil. But even if I had won, I’d just be kicking myself over that damn wheel. It’s all a big fucking mess, FitMC. How were we supposed to win?”

“I think that was the point,” Fit says. Tubbo opens his eyes at some point, and he can see now Fit is watching him, the sadness in his eyes hidden by a stony face. “I think that thing was never going to let us win.”

“But it had the eggs,” Tubbo says, desperate, trying to get all his thoughts out to Fit and failing. None of his words seem right. “It had them, it wasn’t lying about that, and it just– it just took them again. And ElQ.” His voice cracks on the last word, and Fit just silently sits there with him as Tubbo starts chewing on his lip, through the dry, cracked skin and down to blood again. 

“I don’t know what’s happening anymore,” Fit finally says. He glances out over the horizon, and Tubbo presses his tongue into his bleeding lip just to feel the sting. “At first I thought it had something to do with the Federation, but now I don’t know. I don’t think the eye is connected to them, not directly, at least. I don’t know. Tubbo, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tubbo says miserably. “Besides, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” Fit says. “Tubbo, you did amazing. You did what you could. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

“But I could’ve done more,” Tubbo says, and Fit shakes his head vehemently.

“No, kid,” he says. “Stop. Listen to me. You did good. Okay? You did fucking good, you worked with what you had, you made the blue team what it was. You were a leader, a real leader. There aren’t a lot of people out there like you, Tubbo. They don’t have what you have, that determination, that stubbornness, that genius. You did everything you needed to do, okay? Don’t blame yourself for what happened. It’s not your fault. We’re all in this together, and we’re going to finish it together, no matter what that eye says. It tried to tear us apart, and look at us now.”

“But everything is still different now,” Tubbo says. It scares him. Fit just nods. 

“I know,” he says. “But you aren’t. You became better, Tubbo. I can guarantee that without you, a lot of us would’ve come out a lot worse for wear. Hell, we probably wouldn’t have even gotten to see the eggs. So don’t blame yourself.”

Tubbo knows what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to do, but it still hurts. He thinks Fit is trying to reassure himself in the same breath he reassures Tubbo– and he hopes it’s working. He can see it in Fit’s eyes, that shared desperation, that fear that neither of them really want to face. And Fit has a point, too. They all tried, and even at the end when they were supposed to be at their most divided, they came together. Tubbo thinks back to them all searching for the eggs, and thinks maybe, his and Phil’s fight was the catalyst for shaky trust between them all. Purgatory had been hell– but he’d learned things there, too.

“I hate this,” Tubbo says. “I hate how all this fucking violence and betrayal and shit is supposed to make me better. I don’t want to better, because I’m not fucking good at all, Fit.”

“I get it,” Fit says. “I really, really do.”

It hits Tubbo then what Fit is referencing, and he stops. They’ve never talked about 2B2T as anything other than surface level news and small talk, but he knows Fit’s life had been there, and Tubbo thinks he had some experience, too. There’s a comradery between them that only shows up between the chaos, something intrinsic and violent down to their cores. Tubbo flexes his left hand and watches his mechanical fingers– the ones he can’t remember building– open and close. He feels like a cracked plate, but instead of gold filling in the cracks, there’s nothing but emptiness and forgotten memories.

“Everything else aside,” Tubbo says, and Fit blinks, long and slow, “did you… have fun?”

Maybe his word choice is wrong. Maybe he doesn’t mean fun. Maybe he means something more akin to did it feel like home?

Fit blinks again, then nods. “You know,” he says, “after everything, even despite it all… yeah. I think I did.” He pauses, the silence stretching between them like the gum on a grappling squack. “And I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“I don’t blame you,” Tubbo says quickly, because he doesn’t. He gets it, more than anything. Sometimes the crazy feels more familiar than the sane. “I mean, Cellbit straight up said he wanted to stay, so.”

“I would’ve stayed, I think,” Fit says. “If I had a chance to get Ramon out of there.”

“Same,” Tubbo says. “But the nuke–”

“Yeah, no,” Fit says. “We’re more useful to the eggs alive than dead in a ditch.”

They both fall silent for a moment. The wind whips through Tubbo’s hair, getting in his eyes and sticking to his still-damp skin. Neither of them want to admit it out loud, but Tubbo knows they’re both thinking it– maybe Fit’s excuse is just that. An excuse, a selfish reason to keep on living. But at the same time, it’s true. They can’t help the eggs if they’re dead. 

“Dapper’s out,” Tubbo says after a second. Changes the direction of the conversation. Tries to ignore the shame yet again. “Bad’s got to have him somewhere. We’ll meet up back at the island, right?”

“Right,” Fit says. “Yeah, no, Bad wouldn’t let anything happen to Dapper now.”

“We got Dapper, so we can get the others,” Tubbo says.

“Very true.” Fit sighs. “Man, this fucking sucks.”

Tubbo laughs, dry and brittle. “You can say that again.”

He feels like he’s aged twenty years in two weeks. Based on the wrinkles gracing Fit’s forehead, he’s feeling the same. But after another long stretch of taffy-like quiet, Fit shuffles and stands with a groan, stretching his arms out over his head. In the distance, the sun is setting, casting tangerine and peach streaks across the ocean and sky. 

“Come on,” Fit says. “This boat’s a beast, it’s got showers and beds.”

“Like actually?” Tubbo asks. The idea of a shower, a proper shower with hot fucking water and soap sounds like heaven right now.

“Oh yeah,” Fit says. “Feather pillows, dude.”

“Holy fuck,” Tubbo says, and he stands, knees complaining as he does so. His whole body is stiff and sore and exhausted, and he feels guilty for enjoying the luxuries for about two seconds before pushing that aside and focusing on the fact they have luxuries. “I am going to be in the shower for actual hours.”

“I think Bagi’s in there right now, but you can have it next,” Fit says, reaching out to pat Tubbo on the shoulder. He doesn’t miss how Fit gives him a once over, something warm and concerned in his eyes, and Tubbo suddenly feels… better. Not great, but better. “And then we can sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Tubbo admits, even as he feels the exhaustion dragging at his limbs and eyelids. Fit laughs.

“I think you can,” he says, and they both start to make their way towards the door to the inside of the yacht. “And hey, Tubbo? I meant it when I said you did good. You’re a good kid. I’m proud.”

Something in his chest snaps, a thread so taut with nervous tension Tubbo had grown used to the pain. In its wake is a quiet, gentle warmth, and he pitches sideways– later, he can blame it on a lurching wave or a misstep, but for now he just unapologetically throws himself into Fit’s side and tightly hugging the other man’s torso.

“Thanks,” he says, just as Fit’s arms come up to hug him back.

#qsmp #q!tubbo #q!fit #q!ramon #qsmp purgatory #gnashing my teeth over these two #my writing

[oneatlatime]

Return to Omashu

Fire nation priorities. Yes, there's a war to win, but first! We must make our colonies aesthetically consistent. Couple of gates, some gold trim, and some spiky bits! Can't forget the gold spiky bits!

Fulfilling the beat up Sokka quota this episode is raw sewage.

That sewer trek must have been long. They went in during the day and it's night now.

I spoke too soon! The quota is in fact filled by tribbles.

"it's so awful I'm dying." I get the feeling that Sokka has been waiting years to use that line. I love how quickly everyone in the Gaang supports each others' spontaneous plans. It's a sign of a good team if you can ream off fake names without blinking and fake the plague without being asked. They all work so well together. Zuko could take some lessons from these guys on lying.

Well this episode's going to land differently post-Covid.

Looks like Zuko Jr.'s going to be in this episode. Bummer. Although tweedledee and tweedledum are intriguing. Who'd ever think to give a teenage girl villain a pair of eighty year old poetry twins? One of the great things so far about this show is how they consistently choose to go with the most out-there option and always make it work. In a show about defeating the firelord, they chose to kill the moon for the finale. And it worked. The plot point, not the killing.

So I'm thinking that orange and yellow must be an acknowledged fashion choice among the four nations outside of an airbending context, because of the number of times fire nation guards have looked right at Aang and not seen him. Also I think his tattoos must have selective invisibility.

It's a crying shame that Hot Topic doesn't exist in the Avatar universe, because this May girl just passed their employment interview with flying colours. I'm siding with what I'm guessing is her mom on this one. Just chill for a bit.

Ok maybe don't chill for a bit. Yeah my bad. This is not a good time to chill.

Reusing the same Naruto run shot literally two seconds later.

How many projectiles can you fit in one pair of sleeves? She's got a whole armoury up there.

Seriously I know she's bored and all but no teenage girl should have access to that many weapons. If I'd had access to an armoury when I was a teenager, people absolutely would have died.

So cute. I'll take 12 please.

Every sentence that Zuko Jr. is saying to this pink girl is some kind of veiled insult or threat. I'd adopt Pink Girl's wilful obliviousness too if I had to deal with that.

Smart Bumi. He knows his people and his element. We've seen more than enough times already that something about being an earthbender makes you too stubborn to quit and unable to change plans even when your original plan is obviously not working (looking at you, Fong). So, knowing that his people are unable to change course, he prevents them from entering on to that course in the first place.

And Aang picks up on this too! Actually, since Bumi knew Aang growing up, do you think he picked up the concept of strategic retreat from airbending?

Tribbles to the rescue! Given that these are sewer dwelling creatures, this fake plague might turn real.

I love how casual Sokka is about touching other people.

Every street in Omashu seems to have a couple of bundles of twigs propped up against a wall somewhere. It's probably an animation trick to fill up the background.

Love the one guy really committing to the bit who just flops on the ground.

"Pentapox! I'm pretty sure I've heard of that." Humans are so suggestible.

I love that Flopsy remembers him. Aang's propensity to make friends wherever he goes paying off again. Also, exactly how much metal to the fire nation have access to? They're doing the floor, walls, ceilings, of the whole city. There must be some crazy budget surpluses that need using up.

This baby has an absurd throwing arm.

Machine gun Momo!

This is what happens when you don't feed your lemur AANG.

I know cartoon physics is a thing, but can this baby secretly fly or something?

Poor Momo didn't ask for any of this. Guy just wanted some berries. Now he's getting his tail pulled and bitten (hopefully no teeth yet).

Add absurd grip strength to this baby's list of other superhuman characteristics.

Baby apparently weighs quite a bit too.

Flying lemur unintentionally kidnaps baby. Did not see that coming.

Tiny nitpick: the circus master introduces Zuko jr. as "the firelord's daughter" rather than as Princess Zuko jr. Does she not have a title?

Nope. He's calling her princess now. Maybe there are a bunch of princesses in the fire nation and he was just being specific?

Thus begins the bullying of pink girl. Imagine going to school with a bunch of fire nation noble girls? There must have been casualties.

I love Sokka so much. Expert hug administrator.

"everything so clever. So tricky." Actually the avatar forgot to feed his lemur and it kind of snowballed from there. Hands down one of my favourite tropes is when one side in a conflict assumes their enemies are master manipulators, then we learn that actually they're just failing upwards through shenanigans. Love that.

Poor pink girl. The only viable strategy, both for her own safety and the safety of the whole circus, is appeasement.

"The universe is giving me strong hints that it's time for a career change." No blame cast, no fingers pointed, but also not giving Zuko jr. credit for influencing her. That's some fancy talking.

And now they're reusing the campsite shot too?

Poor Momo. That's about the face I make around babies.

I spoke too soon again. This episode's beat up Sokka quota is actually fulfilled by Katara's backhand. Because apparently it's a cardinal sin to prevent a baby from chewing on a potentially bladed weapon? Priorities girl.

Well that accidental kidnapping had some unintended positive consequences. Don't you love it when problems fix themselves?

She even paints her nails black and wears fingerless gloves. Seriously. Hot Topic. STAT.

"Well, Asula called a little louder." Hell of a lot of information in that sentence.

How long is her neck?

Ego much?

Zhao was an asshole and unpleasant, but at least he had some good banter. Zuko jr. is just mean. I hope I see less of her going forward.

Bumi! Hi Bumi! I love Bumi.

Pink girl's loyalty was tested with burning nets and released beasts. Now May's loyalty is tested with her brother's life. Zuko jr. is so good to her friends.

Why is no one able to recognise Aang? He's dressed like an airbender. The only one of those left is the avatar. It's not that hard.

Pink girl is lucky that Sokka is quite prone to friction.

More wood bundles. I guess it's for scaffolding?

Gotta give it to Zuko jr., she has excellent balance.

May has leg knives as well as arm knives?

And shirt knives. How does she not stab herself every time she sits down? And if this place is so boring, why does she feel the need to carry 8 billion knives?

Love the Appa tail slap. Underrated and underused move.

So Bumi has no spine left.

Facebending. Neat.

Neutral Jing is a neat concept, but I'll be damned if any earthbender we've seen apart from Bumi ever bothers with it.

Suddenly the 100 year gap between Aang and Bumi can no longer be ignored. Bumi is still Aang's friend, but he's got a century of learning and a city to protect. This is kind of a sad moment.

Do May and Zuko have some history? Is that's what's being implied here?

Wouldn't expect any less. I wonder how these two are going to explain the return of their son without painting the resistance in a really good light.

Zuko jr. is spelled with a Z.

Final Thoughts

Zuko Jr. gets a girl squad, the Gaang gets a reason to spend a season gallivanting all over the Earth Kingdom, and the audience gets to see Superslide part 2. A weird mix of establishing groundwork and having fun this episode.

I totally buy that the fire nation guards and governor fell for the plague thing. Anyone remember "that lemur! He's earthbending!" These guys are not smart.

The plague thing did not bother me at all. I thought it would, since the anti-science idiots in the Fortuneteller really annoyed me. I think since the fake plague was treated as a joke the whole way through, and never actually endangered anyone, it didn't bring up Covid memories.

I think Flopsy's pupils are sideways hourglasses, which contributes nicely to his uncanniness.

I think the stuffy that the baby was throwing is the same animal as the beaver bear thing at the circus.

I love Momo the machine gun. I think those are the same berries as the ones Iroh was going to double poison himself with.

Sokka getting to plan the plague and getting to save the day with boomerang was fun. That's two episodes in a row where he's been the plan guy. Katara got to use some of her new and improved waterbending as well, but she was really pushed to the background otherwise.

I think pink Girl, whose name I still haven't caught, is quite good at reading people. I caught more than one 'shallow-on-the-surface-but-actually-way-deep' statement from her. Also she can Vulcan pinch people's bending? I'm guessing it's temporary or else Katara would be really freaking out.

May was just too much. Too overdone. Yes, there are teenage girls like that, but it felt a bit on the nose. Actually, way too much on the nose. I get that she can't show any emotion in front of Zuko jr. for her own safety, but "can I offer you an egg fireflakes in this trying time?" is not exactly an appropriate response to your little brother's disappearance.

I'm still not liking Zuko jr. But I'm someone who never likes the villain anyway, at least not when our heroes are this likeable.

This episode was not easy on Aang. It was an interesting mix of bringing home the reality of the war and the reality of the time passed. Even when he seemingly got to save his friend in the end, he actually didn't because things are more complicated now. He untied the damsel from the railroad track and she tied herself right back on.

Further evidence for my 'entire fire nation is colourblind' theory this episode. Aang was not disguised apart from a hat made from a very incriminating colour. He had a giant blue stripe down the back of his head! Come on!

No Zuko this episode. He was last seen stealing a perfectly nice lady's bird horse, and it'll be a while before I forgive him for that, so good call by the writers to not have him around.

Now that I think about it, there was a lot going on this episode. Sewer break & enter, assassination attempt, fake plague, hostage exchange, water v. knife fight, fire v. air fight, vulcan pinch v. bending fight, Boomerang & bison v. knife fight, earthbending philosophy, girl squad assembly, lemur harassment, and baby restoration. This episode felt long in a good way.

How about, instead of learning the elements, Aang learns pink girl's vulcan pinch and just does that to the fire lord?

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #return to omashu #avatar the last airbender

[mafuluzx]

how do you think cole would react during season five if reader got turned into a ghost like him

Hello, Anon! You left your message a little open so I'm taking the authority to guess you were asking for headcanons on the topic. That being said, I suck at headcanons, I'm just not good at writing stuff like that, but I've tried my best! As always, I have put the reader as male, like I usually do.

Cole x male reader headcanons!

Season 5 and before Day of the departed:

If (y/n) and Cole both turned into ghosts😱

How it happened:

"We're almost out of here! Come on Cole!" You called out as you ran after your three team mates you were currently tied to, along with Cole running right behind you.

"Ah, the scroll!" Cole suddenly stopped, and untied the knot keeping him tied to his four other teammates. You stopped as well.

"Cole! Come on! Hurry!" Cole didn't answer you and instead rushed towards the scroll, stumbling a bit before reaching it. With a hint of anger, and a hint of worry, you quickly untied yourself as well and went after Cole. Cole picked up the scroll just as you grabbed his hand and the two started running out hand in hand.

"Guys, we got the scroll!" Cole called to kai, Zane, and Jay as he flailed the scroll in the air.

"Yes! You did it, ahaha!" You celebrated and caught Cole in a bear-hug. The two of you laughed when the moment was suddenly cut off.

Cole was could. You were could. You finally took a good look at Cole and yourself, and Cole did the same.

"Cole, (y/n)! You two are..." Jay didn't finish his sentence, and just stared as you stared at your own ghastly green hands. Cole then grabbed your hands in his hands, that were identical to yours in color. The two of you looked at each other and spoke at the same time.

"Ghosts..."

-

Cole was heart broken, thinking he couldn't be the earth ninja as a ghost. You were too, but you took being a ghost as a new opportunity.

You tried new things, and was the first of you two to learn to control passing through walls and turning invisible and stuff.

Every time Cole would reach out to touch something, and phase through it, you would make him close his eyes and touch you instead, for he never phased through you. It was always comforting to Cole.

You both shared your fear of getting hit by water, and pulled each other away every time there was a change of getting splashed one way or another.

When you were at the crystal cave where the ninja could see their reflections, you didn't see yourselves, nor each other. The two of you were already dead.

Once Morro was defeated, the two of you kept mindful of Nya, especially when she was training, but otherwise all your worries about being ghosts faded.

I... Don't have anything else? I'm sorry, but headcanons just aren't my thingy. But I can't be blamed right, since It's not like I'm getting paid for this.

#headcanons #ninjago #cole brookstone #x male reader #cole x reader #lego ninjago

[alicewritingstories]

Febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive

CW: Injury, blood, broken bone, field medicine, unconsciousness

Continues Day 17

AO3

---

Wind was on the defensive almost immediately; there were three men against him and all of them were bigger than him. However, this was also the kind of fight he was used to, especially when one of the men suddenly yelled and reeled back, swatting at the side of his neck as if he'd been stung by something. With a grin, he pressed his advantage, lunging forward with a stabbing swipe of his sword that the man only barely dodged. A hand closed on his arm, but then that man also yelled in pain and shock and let go of him. Wind twisted away to put his back to a wall and waited for another chance.

It quickly came as the first man once again swatted at his neck. This time Wind saw something scuttle down off his shoulder, away from the bloody scratch in his skin, and leap to the next. He lunged forward and wounded that one, cutting a long slash across his chest.

Then the one Wind had seen the motion towards suddenly caught something in his fist and threw it to the ground with a curse, yelling something about demons.

Fortunately, between that and the discovery that Wind wasn't a helpless kid they'd apparently had enough; all three turned and ran, nursing their wounds. Wind followed them to the gate, but they had already vanished into the crowd.

For a moment he hesitated between following them - and possibly reporting what had happened to the guard - and finding out what exactly it was that the man had thrown down. But then he decided to listen to curiosity and the desire to make sure whoever had helped him was OK. He ran back to the location of the fight and crouched down to look more carefully among the trampled grass, hoping whoever it had been - a new type of fairy, perhaps? - hadn't really been invisible.

He pushed blades of grass this way and that, frowning to himself, then his eye was suddenly caught by a flash of color. It looked almost like…

"Four!" he cried as he moved some more grass and saw what looked like a tiny version of Four lying in the grass. His arm looked shattered, a shard of bone poking through a tear in his sleeve, and as Wind very carefully picked him up he didn't even twitch. His heart in his mouth, Wind pressed a fingertip to the tiny chest, unsure whether he'd even be able to feel a heartbeat.

He couldn't, but he did feel the faint motion as the little Four breathed.

"OK," he said, putting aside how weird this was for the time being. So maybe Four had a tiny version of himself as a companion. Or he could make himself small. It wasn't the weirdest thing Wind had ever encountered.

He looked back at the place little Four had been lying and saw a gleam of metal still there. When he picked it up, he saw it was a perfectly-scaled version of Four's sword, no bigger than a needle; he must have been holding it when the man threw him to the ground.

It really was Four. Just… small.

Wind shook his head and slipped the sword into its sheath. This still wasn't the weirdest thing he'd seen in his career and Four needed help. Very gently, still with the very tip of his finger, he shook his shoulder on the uninjured side.

"Hey, Four?" he whispered, unsure whether a shout would be too much for little ears. "Four, can you hear me?"

No response.

"Four?" said Wind a little louder, and then louder still, "Four?"

Nothing. Wind swallowed hard. He was going to have to find help. Four had kept this ability secret, probably for a reason, but there was no help for it. Cradling the tiny figure as safely as he could in his hands, he set off at a run towards where he'd last seen the others.

It wasn't far before he met Twilight coming the other way.

"Wind!" the rancher exclaimed, in that angry tone Wind knew adults used when they were actually more scared than anything else. "Where have you been? We've been searching all over Castletown for you!"

"I'll explain in a minute," said Wind. "Four needs help. At least… I think it's Four." He held out his hands.

Twilight frowned, confused. "What do you mean, you think -" Then he saw what Wind was holding and his eyes brightened in understanding, though the expression quickly turned to horror. "That's Four. What happened to him?"

"A guy threw him on the floor."

"Why -" Twilight shook his head. "OK, let me…" He also gently shook Four with a fingertip, but there was still no response. "OK. That arm's broken…"

"Should we find Wars? Or Hyrule?"

"No, not if we can help it. I already knew he could do this, so let's keep this between us if we can. I… once set a puppy's leg. He's smaller, but… OK, let's get out of the way." Twilight led the way through another gate into another piece of the park and into a sheltered corner behind a bush. "Let's give this one try. If I can't set the bone, we'll have to get Hyrule."

Wind nodded, swallowing hard, and held Four out again, telling himself that it was probably for the best that Four was unconscious.

"What if he doesn't wake up?" he asked. "We won't be able to get a potion into him like this and… he's smaller than a potion bottle; does it work to scale?"

"I don't know," said Twilight. "We're going to have to find out. I… almost hope this wakes him up."

Wind didn't, though he could see the point. He gritted his teeth, holding his hand out as flat and steady as he could.

Twilight gently took Four's forearm between his fingers, braced his body with the other hand, and pulled it straight.

Four didn't react at all.

---

Continued on Day 22

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday21 #linked universe #linked universe whump #lu wind #lu four #lu twilight #cw: injury

[gravegroves]

I've been spending quite a lot of my time in hospital lately, it's not been a fun time. I recently saw a post floating around about what would have happened if Billy had died the night he was injected (if anyone knows of it, feel free to message me so I can properly credit). Seeing as I have nothing but hours laying in hospital beds, I wrote this thing.

Where Billy basically turns into a vengeful ghost. Not happy, you've been warned. CW: death, disturbing imagery, revenge, vengeful ghost!Billy

*****

They drag his body out into the woods.

No one cares to check to see if he's even still breathing. The blue of his lips would have been a dead giveaway, but the dark of night hides a lot of things.

Like a goddamn body.

He walks beside the kids, watches his own booted heels carve a groove into the earth because even between the four of them his body is too heavy to lift, so they drag him through the undergrowth like a sack of shit.

Not far. But far enough.

Maybe they do know he's dead. Maybe Max meant to kill him all along.

They get his body away from the house and the road, deep enough into the woods that no one would have a hope in hell of spotting him unless they went looking.

And they leave him there.

"Asshole can walk home when he wakes up." Max pants before they sprint back the way they came without a backwards glance. Billy wants to run after them, scream, demand that they come back and do something, but he knows with a soul deep certainty that whatever force is keeping him in this limbo is also keeping him tethered to his body. Knows this because the second he woke up in this new state he immediately tried to turn around and leave. Got as far as the driveway where the groove of Harrington's ass-print was still visible in the dirt, when he'd realised he had walked through the Byers's front door, right before he then walked into an invisible but impenetrable wall.

He'd gone back inside —through the door again when reaching for the handle had been the same as reaching for air— just in time to see the little shits preparing to drag his body out into the woods.

No one had noticed his entrance or the screaming that followed.

He wonders if they'll drag Harrington out to join him. If they'll remember that the night is fucking freezing and to bring Billy back a jacket. If he wasn't already dead he could've easily died from hypothermia.

They never do.

He hears the distant sounds of cars occasionally, of people, of things he can't quite place.

But no one comes back for him.

Not for a long, long time.

*****

The circle gets wider the more his body decomposes.

He can't stand to look at it. The sockets sunken. His long eyelashes fanning over milky, half-lidded eyes staring unseeingly up at the treetops. Gangly, awkward sprawl the same as the day he'd been left there. The cold winter does a good job of preserving his body. No roiling maggot infestations or flies to drive him more insane than he already feels.

When he stops actively working against it, his apparition changes to match that of his physical body, slowly rotting along with it. Losing pieces of himself.

Every time he feels a loose bit of skin sloughing off, it takes everything in him to force his form back to the one he had on the might of his death. He'd joke about looking his very best that night, that at least he had that going for him, but all it takes is for his mind to wander for a moment and the effect slowly wears off again.

Nowadays, Billy's mind does almost nothing but wander.

He's circled the impenetrable wall more times than he can count, looking for a weakness, a tiny crack that he might dig his rotting fingers into and tug to grant him an extra bit of freedom. Every time he walks out to check again, the circle is a couple of inches further out.

Weeks pass.

The circle gains six feet.

He's going fucking insane.

With nothing but anger and betrayal and his own rotting fucking corpse for company, he stews in a broth of raw, hateful emotions for so long it feels like there isn't much left of him besides the fury and the need to check his circle.

He won't see California again for sixteen-and-a-half thousand years at this inch-an-hour rate.

Billy calculated that.

He cries. He begs. He screams. His throat never tires and he never runs out of air, and the forest simply continues to calmly exist, undisturbed, because Billy Hargrove is a goddamn ghost.

And ghosts can't do shit.

*****

It's a particularly fucked up kind of torture that Billy can hear the louder going-on's at the Byers house, a tantalising break in his monotony hovering just beyond his reach. He can't see the house for the thicket yet, instead he stands as close as the ring allows him when he knows the mother —Joyce— leaves for the day to go to work and again when she comes home. Or when her eldest boy Jonathan plays his music loud enough to be heard throughout the entire area.

Billy hopes every time to hear even just a hint of something to keep him grounded in reality.

It doesn't work. (Jonathan's taste in music is pretentious at best, depressing at worst, Billy almost prefers the silence.)

One time he thinks he hears the kids —MaxMaxMAX— come to visit Will and he howls in anger, throws himself against the circle and claws at the invisible limit to get at them all.

I'm here! I'm here, right where you left me you fucking shitheads!

No one comes to check, which means that no one hears him.

Billy thinks about what he's going to do to them all once his circle is wide enough.

He smacks his head violently against the invisible wall.

There is no pain.

His teeth sure do look white against rotted leaves, though.

*****

By the time Hopper finds him, his circle is about to breach the treeline by the road.

Billy feels the man the second he steps into the circle, like a spider's Web, the very air buzzes closest to where he pushes into Billy's territory, needling at his mind until he goes to check on the intruder and does something to make it leave.

Make it stay.

Make it pay.

He's been so focused on that widening ring —staring at the last mark he dug into the ground to indicate his limits and checking obsessively for new inches gained— that he hadn't even heard the new car pull up into the Byers' driveway.

He moves back from the treeline —so tantalisingly close to where he might get to see people and cars again— and stalks through tree trunks, branches and leaves without disturbing a single one and finds police Chief Hopper bent over something on the forest floor.

"Hey!" Billy barks, momentarily stunned by the warped tone of his own voice. The man doesn't react, still bent over what Billy now realises is the matching heel grooves from when Billy was dragged into this torturous corner of the shittiest town in America.

Hopper's eyes follow the trail until it disappears behind a tightly knit group of trees and looks tempted to follow it.

Billy almost vibrates with excitement.

"That's it piggy," He hisses, voice the groan of trees cracking in a storm, circling the oblivious man like a starving lion with no teeth or claws to make a meal of him. Blood oozes from his gaping maw like drool.

"Follow the fucking trail and get me the hell out of here!"

The man doesn't hear a word of course, and he sure does take his sweet time. Checking the trees of all things —for what, Billy doesn't know— and using a stick to poke the dirt in front of him like he's expecting it to cave under his weight. Slowly, though, he makes his way closer to where Billy's body lies forgotten.

He's so close.

Just a bit more.

"Don't you leave me here you dumb bastard, don't you fucking leave me here," Billy rattles over and over again, a curse and mantra all in one, anger turned to simmering. If the cop doesn't find him now, it may be months or even years, before someone comes this way again and Billy doesn't know how much more of this hellish existence he can take.

He wonders if Max really could be stupid enough to think he'd wake up and simply run away without the camaro.

She must know. She left me here without even coming back to check. She knows where I am and told NO ONE.

Just a little further...

Hopper stops again.

The anger boils over.

Billy strides right up to the man and lashes out, but his hand connects with nothing. Billy howls in frustration, but watches as a meaty hand comes up to absentmindedly scratch at the place Billy had tried to tear open with his useless ghost hands.

Something cocks it's head in Billy's mind.

But then Hopper turns the corner.

And things go pretty quickly from there.

*****

The chief calls in his find to the station.

He doesn't touch Billy's body, but he doesn't leave him there alone, either. Billy appreciates it in a way, it feels like something he would do when he was alive, yet it does nothing to calm the ever burning pit in his belly.

Hopper sits himself down on a fallen log and stares down at Billy's corpse with tired eyes and Billy can't tell if they're sad or if the man is simply annoyed about the extra hours he's gonna have to pull tonight.

It doesn't really matter.

Billy begins circling him again.

It feels like Hopper is prey, but Billy still can't quite figure out how to eat him.

The pit burns hotter. The anger yawns wider.

Hungry.

He brings up a finger to dip in the blood around his mouth and grins wider than humanly possible, splitting the sides of his face when a bloody B.H. slowly stains black against the dark blue of the back of Hopper's officer jacket.

Billy can work with this.

*****

The morgue is a dismal fucking place, filled with geeks too excited about dead people for Billy to stand hanging around, no longer than it takes for his body to get stored away with a tag around his big toe.

His circle thankfully keeps it's distance and continues to grow.

It almost feels like tending to a garden, the way he runs his palm against the smooth surface of the invisible wall as he walks along it, encouraging it with soft hisses of the names of all the people who are going to pay for what has happened to him.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOM—

On and on it goes.

He checks out the neighbourhood after another round along the circle's edge, weeding out the people all buzzing in his web. None of them ping his radar quite like Hopper did, but they are more than good enough for a little practise.

Billy needs to be ready.

*****

"He appears to have been injected with quite a high dose of sodium thiopental. The extremely high dosage coupled with a quick injection can cause extreme respiratory distress," A bead of the mortician's sweat makes its way down his face towards his nose to hang precariously at the tip.

If it lands on Billy's body, Billy will have another name to add to his garden.

"He suffocated before the drug overdose even had the chance kill him. Then he was left outside with barely any clothes in the winter. This kid was triple dead. If it wasn't one, then it was the other two."

Billy watches Hopper massage the bridge of his nose for a while, his shoulders slumped. Then the man seems to pull himself together with monumental effort and reaches for a folder marked with Billy's name.

"Billy Hargrove. Age 17. Lived with his father, step-mother and step-sister at 4819 Cherry Lane. Last seen by Karen Wheeler on the night of November 5th getting into his Camaro and heading out to the Byers residence to pick up his step sister Max Mayfield. According to the family, the car has been outside of their residence since the day after he was last seen."

"Last seen by Max Mayfield, dead in the fucking woods," Billy spits. A tiny droplet of blood sprays onto Hopper's face. The man absentmindedly wipes it away, unaware of the streak it leaves behind on his cheek.

He flicks to the next page. Clears his throat.

"Drag marks at the crime scene indicate he was dragged from the road into the forest and then dumped..."

"Liar!" Billy roars, "they led into that goddamn house, you know they did!"

He sweeps a hand over the scalpels and instruments lying on a tray next to the guerny and watches in fascination as they all go tumbling to the floor.

Hopper and the sweaty mortician freeze in place.

Oh.

After a second of stunned silence, Billy pounces.

Hopper takes the full brunt of his attack right to the chest, toppling backwards and landing half on top of Billy's corpse while Billy's spirit sits on his chest and squeezes down on his throat.

"Liar!" Billy wails, "you fucking LIAR! Why are you lying?! They killed me! You know they killed me!"

Liar Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Beside them, his corpse opens it's mouth and screeches with whatever vocal cords it has left.

"LIAAAARRHGG."

"Jesus Christ!" The mortician stumbles back into the corner of the room where he cowers in fear. "Chief Hopper, are you--"

The lights start flickering.

"Let's see how you like it," Billy hisses and squeezes down as hard as he can.

The hunger is worse than ever, he needs to...

All of a sudden, whatever source of power Billy manages to tap into vanishes, leaving him standing half inside the guerny and half inside Hopper who is gasping for air and clutching at his throat.

Billy reaches out as if on instinct and plunges his claws into Hopper's very soul. Latching on like a fucking parasite and begins to feed on the fear he can feel coursing through him.

Billy laughs.

Oh yes, this he can definitely work with.

*****

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

*****

His circle is still there. Ever-growing. Calling out to him, but Billy can leave it now if he attaches himself to someone else, someone living who leaves it.

He digs his claws into Hopper with a fierce cruelty, sits on his shoulders and hopes the man can feel the weight pressing him down like gravity.

Like a bad conscience.

Hopper knows something is wrong, but he seems to be determined to power through the incident at the mortuary. Billy can feel the weariness. Maybe he's been through something like this before?

Billy doesn't care.

He can manipulate his world now, as long as he maintains his hate with every fibre of his being, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Easy fucking peasy.

*****

Hopper drives to Cherry Lane and Billy howls with hunger the entire way there, digging his fingers deeper into Hopper with excitement, enough to have the man rubbing at his shoulder every few minutes.

They're almost there.

He can't wait to stuff his fingers into Neil's mouth and rip his jaw from his face. Tear his heart out and smear it along the walls with dents in them that perfectly match parts of Billy's body. Maybe make Susan scream before he rips out the tongue she never did find a use for when it counted.

And Max...

She answers the door when Hopper knocks, looking so fucking normal it burns Billy to look at her.

You killed me and left me where no one would find me and told NO ONE.

He decides she will be first after all.

And slowly let's himself be revealed to her.

She stares at him, perched on Hopper's shoulders, coiled around his head, twisting his neck unnaturally to whisper spitefully into the man's ear.

Hopper rubs at his neck.

Billy makes sure to catch Max's gaze, lets her see his form morphing, slowly rotting to match that of his corpse, blood dripping from his mouth down onto Hopper's shoulder, milky eyes staring at her with all the hatred she left him to stew in, boiled down to a lava-like sludge in the pit of his soul, about to set hard like glass and shatter just as sharp.

Max gasps a sob.

Billy smiles and lets a few teeth scatter to the floor.

This is where it'll start.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

They're all going to fucking pay.

Billy pounces.

#i don't even know how to tag this #this ain't happy #gravegroves writes #billy gets his revenge

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Bruises That Won’t Heal - Black Rose Part 2

Summary: Rhysand returns from Under the Mountain with an announcement that Niamh desperately wishes wasn’t true. Black Rose Part 2, can be read as a standalone but it’s better with Part 1!

Pairing: Rhysand x OC (Niamh, pronounced ‘Neev,’ no physical descriptions)

Warnings: ANGST, allusions to sex, UtM happenings, PTSD, depression, aggressive behavior

Word Count: 3166

A/N: So I wasn’t going to post this but I’m on a hot writing streak right now and have issues with impulse control so here ya go! Also, the title is a lyric from ‘No Surprises’ by Radiohead, which I think goes with the angsty feel of this chapter. Also, did I mention there’s angst ahead? Cuz there is. 

Thank you for reading! Like/Reblog/Comments always appreciated!

Banner by yours truly, dividers by firefly-graphics

Mother above, Niamh thought to herself. 

The chair she sat in became impossibly uncomfortable despite its plushness. Rhys kept talking to the four other members of his inner circle but it sounded far away and dulled, like he was shouting at her from underwater. Her cheeks were hot and all she could hear was her own pulse in her ears. 

“Excuse me,” she said, rising and heading for the nearest balcony. She didn’t notice or care if anyone tried to stop her, she needed air. Rhys paused and she vaguely heard him call her name but she was already out the door, trying to remember how to breathe properly. 

From the balcony she looked out over Velaris sparkling below. The lights started to blur together as tears welled in her eyes. His announcement was a punch in the gut. Her chest felt like it was imploding when a mere twenty-four hours ago it felt like it was full to bursting. Her breathing was shallow, shaking fists shut so tight her nails were cutting into her palms. 

This couldn’t be happening. He had a mate, a gods-be-damned mate! That was what his strange dreams had meant.

She should’ve known. 

How could she have been so naive? 

The wind whipped past her form, invisible hands grabbing at her clothing and hair. For a moment she wished those hands were real, grasping small parts of her and tearing her apart — a thousand different pieces of Niamh drifting through the night sky. That would be preferable to the swirling heartbreak that had found a home in her chest. 

The potted rose bushes on either side of her grew rapidly into a thick hedge behind her, thorns growing sharper, a wall between her and the source of her pain. Braced against the wide railing, she looked down at her ring. 

The ring he’d given her when he promised her forever after she’d abandoned her brother in the Spring Court. With a shaking hand, she slipped the ring off. It was meaningless now, and she wouldn’t be the selfish one who refused to let him be with his mate. 

Even if it felt like her insides were shriveling, wilting, dying within her. 

She placed the ring on the railing, knowing he would find it. Hoping he would understand.

“Niamh?” a male voice called through the hedge. 

Cassian.

“I just need a minute, Cass,” she lied. Though it was a small consolation, she was relieved her voice didn’t break under the weight of a lie. She needed a lot longer than a minute to process exactly what Rhys had said. 

When he’d winnowed to the House of Wind, they’d run at each other after the moment of shock. Her broken, joyful cry alerted Mor in the other room. The three of them had collapsed on each other, she and Mor clinging to Rhys and him clinging to them just the same. Tears were shed, happy ones, and Niamh assumed he ducked her kisses because of his urgency to reunite with his family. 

They were all so elated to be together again that the full debrief of his time Under the Mountain was pushed until the next night. They drank and feasted and danced like it was Starfall and they were rowdy hundred-somethings again. Instead of everyone heading to their rooms, they all passed out where they dropped. 

Niamh hadn’t given much thought to his lack of physical affection toward her. He’d placed quick pecks on everyone’s cheeks, hugged each member of his family for minutes at a time (except Amren, who only managed fifteen seconds). 

“Do you, um…do you want me to take you home?” Cass asked quietly. She shut her eyes tight, chest constricting. Of course, he was ducking her affection because he had a mate. The tears leaked down her face and she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered, remembering that he couldn’t see her through the rose hedge. Black roses. Her favorite.

She receded the hedge with her powers, just as she had built it. Cassian looked at her and she could see the secondhand pain written across his handsome face. It was more sympathetic than pitying, which she was thankful for as she crossed to him. He folded her into a tight embrace and she pressed herself into his leathers. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured to her, rubbing circles on her upper back as she tried to rein in the tears.

From inside the house she could hear Mor calling her name, but she didn’t have the strength to deal with her right now. Sensing this, Cassian lifted her into his arms and, with a gust of wind, lifted them both into the air and flew her home.

Three weeks passed and Niamh hadn’t seen any of the Inner Circle. She put up wards to prevent winnowing into her home and didn’t answer the persistent knocks at the door. She ignored the letters that showed up at least once a day. Even after almost fifty years she knew the handwriting on the envelopes. 

Her time was spent in her rooftop greenhouse, cultivating her various plant species and growing flowers to sell to local florists. It kept her hands and mind busy. Besides, she already knew exactly what Rhys would say to her so why bother reopening the wound? 

She was sitting against the arm of her couch in the living room, a book propped open on her legs when Mor appeared in front of her unlit fireplace. 

“Where the hell have you been?” the blonde goddess demanded, hands on her hips. 

“Huh, my wards must be down.” Niamh looked up from her book and shrugged. “Here.”

“Why haven’t you answered any of Rhys’s letters?” Mor gestured to the coffee table in front of them which was blanketed in the folded parchment. All the seals were intact. 

She turned her attention back to her book, not wanting her friend to see the flash of anguish in her eyes. “I’ve been busy.” 

“Bullshit. Why have you been ignoring us?”

“Because all of you are going to tell me I need to talk to Rhys or read his letters and I don’t want to hear it!” Niamh threw her book aside and rose to her feet, stalking into her kitchen. “He’s mated, Mor. Mated! After I waited for him for fifty years. I know what he’s going to say and I just…don’t see the point. We’re obviously over, I might as well move on.” 

“Honey,” Mor said as she followed her into the kitchen, “Don’t you want some sense of closure? An apology? To let him know how you’re feeling?” 

Niamh filled her kettle and set about making tea. She had to do something with her hands to stop the prickling feeling inside them. “No.” 

“So you’d rather ignore your entire family than have one uncomfortable conversation?” Mor scoffed, indignant. “Real mature, Niamh.” 

Niamh slammed the kettle onto the stove, denting the surface and startling Mor. She knew what Mor said was true — she was being childish by not facing her problems and having the conversation with Rhys. But she couldn’t help it. After fifty years of holding him together in his dreams, he’d come back to her in love with someone else. “Fuck off and let me grieve, Mor.” 

“Is that what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks? Grieving?” She could hear Mor approach, then felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Niamh nodded, not facing the other female. “But we got him back, he came home to us…”

“And immediately broke my heart. I’ve lost him twice now, Mor, and I just…I need time.” 

Mor’s warm hand moved and Mor embraced her from behind, her head coming to rest on Niamh’s shoulder. “Okay, okay. I’ll call off the Illyrians. But can you promise me something?” 

“What?” 

“That you won’t shut yourself off from us like that again. I understand you don’t want to see Rhys, but I miss my best friend.” Mor half-smiled and Niamh promised the two of them would go shopping soon. Satisfied with that promise, Morrigan moved onto lighter topics and sipped the tea Niamh made. 

Despite the undercurrent of despair, it was a pretty pleasant afternoon. 

Mor winnowed back to the House of Wind and found a despondent Rhys sitting in the same chair she’d left him in. Hands white-knuckle grasped in front of him, head bowed to the marble floor, as if he was praying to the Mother. For all she knew, that’s exactly what he was doing. 

He looked up when she entered the room, violet eyes wide and eager. “How’d it go? Is she okay?” 

Mor sighed long and deep, “She’s hurt, Rhys. She needs time.” 

“She’s had three fucking weeks,” he said, standing and beginning to pace. “And she needs more time?” 

“Turn the situation around, Rhys, how do you think you’d feel if you came back and she found her mate while you were…away.” Mor posited. 

The last few weeks had been difficult on her cousin as he resumed his post as High Lord. Long days and nights reacquainting himself with his court, his people, and what issues had arisen in the last fifty years that required his attention had left him exhausted. Today was the first time he’d had a chance to bring up Niamh, mentioning to his cousin that she wasn’t responding to his letters and asking if she’d heard anything from the Spring Court convert. 

Then, upon hearing that no one in the Inner Circle had seen or heard from her, he’d frantically ordered Mor to check up on Niamh and report back. His nerves were frayed from fatigue. Mor could see his mind spinning through every horrible thing that could’ve happened to Niamh, and she had to admit that she was also concerned, so she’d agreed. 

Rhys paused his pacing and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Awful. I’d feel…awful. Crushed. Obliterated.” 

Mor approached her cousin as gently as she’d approached Niamh earlier, like approaching a cornered wildcat. “So maybe ease up on her. She just needs time, okay? She’ll come back, but we need to give her space for now.” 

Rhys’s shoulders slumped when she placed a hand between them. He spun and pulled her close to him, his wet tears dampening the shoulder of her dress. She didn’t mind. 

“I missed her…so much. I survived, clawed my way through every awful thing so I could see her when she dreamwalked to me. She kept me sane, Mor. I owe her everything, and she won’t even be in the same room as me.” 

“She’ll come around,” Mor comforted him. “I know she will.” 

His voice sounded so pained when he said, “I loved her. I…I wanted to marry her.” 

Mor stroked his hair, her own eyes misting over, “I know you did.” 

One Week Later

Simply to torture himself, Rhys found the secret compartment in the headboard of his bed at the townhouse and pulled the velvet box out from inside it. With a deep breath, he opened it. 

The ring inside was slightly worn, but beautiful. He could still remember the day he’d bought it from a jeweler in the Rainbow, practically giddy with excitement to ask Niamh to marry him. A band of intricate silver vines, small clusters of diamonds framed a rare black emerald. 

He’d proposed that night, about twenty years after she became a permanent fixture in his court. They’d never gotten around to the actual marriage ceremony due to one thing or another, High Lord business or her work with his spymaster demanding too much attention to plan a wedding. Hell, forget a wedding, he would’ve happily sworn their vows in front of a city clerk, but for whatever reason they never had.

He’d found the ring on the railing at the House of Wind. While recounting his years under the mountain and revealing the news of his mate, he’d watched Niamh’s expression falter. The light behind her eyes dimmed and she’d drawn into herself before exiting the room. He wanted to go after her, but Amren’s questions had stopped him. A few minutes later, he watched from the balcony as Cassian flew her toward the Rainbow. 

Probably for the best that they’d never married, he thought bitterly. He’d be in an even more impossible situation now. Feyre would still be his mate but he would be married to Niamh. 

Feyre was his mate.

He couldn’t help the tingle of excitement that ran up his spine whenever he thought of her, but it was followed by a sickening wave of nausea that he suspected wouldn’t go away until things were right with Niamh. Whenever that would be. She was stubborn and could hold a grudge, just like her brother.

Her brother, whom his mate was currently planning on marrying. 

“Mother above, what a mess,” he said out loud to no one, falling back on the bed. He raised the ring box above him and snapped it closed. 

He couldn’t do anything about having a mate. Whatever forces of the universe deemed that he belonged with Feyre and nothing could sever that tie. 

But he loved Niamh deeply, truly, and a not-insignificant part of him still did. What was he supposed to do with that love? Especially since the object of that love wouldn't come within a hundred feet of him, wouldn’t respond to the numerous letters he sent, who told Mor that she needed “time.”

And even when “time” was up, what then? They would never be the same. Within the first two weeks of his return, he’d settled back into his friendships with everyone else but Niamh. Cassian’s inappropriate jokes, Azriel’s dark sarcasm, Mor’s sharp tongue, Amren’s deep wisdom, it all came back to him. It all welcomed him home like a warm blanket that, unfortunately, was a few inches too short. 

He needed Niamh’s curios intelligence, her open smile, her quick wit. The way her eyes would light up when he brought her rare seeds or specimens, how her hair would fall in her face while she was deep into research. 

The little noises she made when he kissed her just right. How her body responded so deliciously to him. How safe and loved she’d made him feel all those years when she would visit him in his dreams.

His heart fractured at the reality that he might not get those things back. In all likelihood, he would never see those parts of her again. 

As happy as he was to have found his mate (even if she was engaged to a shitbag), he was equally as devastated to lose Niamh. His own heart was broken, and Niamh didn’t know that. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see him, but it was taking all of his self-control to stay away. 

A knock sounded at his door and he bid whoever it was to enter. Azriel and Cassian entered the room, but Rhys didn’t move from his splayed-out position on the bed. 

“You okay, boss?” Cassian asked. 

“No,” he answered, “What is it?” 

Azriel approached him and held out a sealed envelope. “It’s from Niamh.” 

Rhys sat bolt upright and snatched the letter from Az’s hands. He recognized her handwriting and the green rose wax seal on the back. 

“Did she say anything to you? Does she want me to respond?” 

Azriel shook his head slightly, “It’s all in the letter. We’ll be outside if you need us.” 

“And by that he means we’ll run to the liquor store so you can drown your sorrows once you’ve finished it,” Cassian joked, earning him a punch in the chest from Azriel as they walked out and shut the door behind them. 

With shaking hands, Rhys broke the seal and extracted the letter. 

‘Rhysand, 

I don’t even know where to begin but Amren said she wouldn’t stop knocking my plants over until I wrote you something, so here I am. 

I’m devastated, Rhys. Like the rug has been pulled out from under me and then a piano was dropped on my head. I’ve been avoiding you because I know what you’ll say. It’s not your fault, you didn’t plan for this to happen, you’re so, so sorry. While I don’t doubt the truth behind these sentiments, actually hearing them from your lips would only serve to devastate me further. 

We just got you back and I’m losing you all over again. Only this time you’ll still be around, deeply in mating-love with someone who isn’t me. When you were gone it was like a part of myself was missing. I searched hundreds of dreams for you, and when I found you I couldn’t bear the waking world. I wanted to live in our dreams forever. I know you did too. Maybe you still do.

Which brings me to my announcement; I’m leaving the Night Court. I’ve taken a job in another court with an old friend. By the time you’re reading this, I’ve already left. Please, Rhys, don’t come looking for me. I am safe.

Just know that I hold no ill feeling toward you or your mate. I love you, Rhys, and I always will. And that’s why it’s better if I leave. You and your mate will have a better start if you have nothing holding you back. 

I wish you all the best, and I hope someday we can meet again as friends. 

All My Love,

Niamh’ 

Rhys was shaking with rage as he finished the letter. He sprang to his feet and rushed downstairs to where his brothers were waiting, each with a drink in hand. Cassian offered him a glass with a generous pour of whiskey in it, but Rhys slapped it away and pinned Cassian to the wall with his forearm on the Illyrian’s windpipe.

“Did you know about this?” he shouted, inches from his brother’s face, pressing his weight onto his brother’s neck. “Did you know she was leaving?” 

“Yes, we did,” Azriel answered calmly from behind him, “She gave us the letter yesterday, then I flew her to the border.” 

Rhys dropped Cassian, who gasped for air. He turned his attention to the shadowsinger, shoulders hunched with tension, fully intending on leveling the spymaster with his bare hands. 

“Rhys, think about this rationally for a second,” Azriel said, holding up his hands. “How is your mate going to react to another female you used to be in love with — betrothed to — hanging around?”

His shoulders sagged. Az had a point. The Mating Bond made both mates possessive to the point of danger, especially in the early days. And Rhys was already keeping Feyre in the dark about more than he’d like. 

“I just…wish I got to say goodbye. It’s like I’ve lost her again.” 

Cassian had poured him a new drink, and Rhys accepted it as he fell back into a plush chair, exhausted and boneless. 

It was the first of many, many drinks that night. And most of the nights to come.

Part 3

#acotar fic #acotar angst #acomaf angst #acomaf fic #rhysand x oc #rhysand x reader #rhys x oc #rhys x reader #rhysand angst #post utm #broken hearts #angst angst baby #inner circle #acotar #acomaf #acowar

[wigglepiggle]

I had another dream about ace attorney but this was incredibly just. what

edit i made an objection.lol thing of this

I had a dream that I was playing a minecraft sims like game(never played the sims either this is just my minds recreation of it) and I made a house with phoenix edgeworth franziska mia maya and pearl in it and gumshoe was there but he was just kind of roaming around the streets and coming in the house randomly unannounced and edgeworth kept kicking him out I don't think he lived there???

and trucy apollo klavier and I think her name is athena bc I haven't gotten to her yet but I know what she looks like and she was there (orange hair blue clothing??) lived somewhere else but idk if they were all in the same house they just were there

anyways so this game had two game modes I was either god (playing a game normally) or I was inside of it myself and it was called survival which I didn't understand but. I'm about to find out

so I built my sims house and was ready to enter so I went in but apparently I was playing on hostile mode(literally just called that not like normal easy no just hostile) which I saw in the menu and never changed bc I didn't know what it was

so I spawn near the house, everyone (including apollo klavier trucy and athena) are standing in the side yard or something

and everyone suddenly turns to look at me, opens their mouths, and start RAPIDLY SHOOTING MINECRAFT ARROWS FROM THE MOUTHS AT ME WHILE I START HOLLERING so I panic and open the menu and turn it to peaceful which made everyone abruptly stop and I also then changed myself back to god bc I was fearing another attack

so now I'm just kind of flying around invisible and the characters who don't live in the house (except gumshoe he already got in) are invited over by edgeworth and franziska for tea apparently so everyone is downstairs

except maya and pearl who I sent to sleep (and for some reason in this dream maya is really young she's like 9) even though it's still goddamn light out it's like 6 so of course neither of them want to so I send gumshoe to do it for me and he tried coaxing them but they just start having a fit and then maya bit him so I decided to take action and I used my invisible god self to push pearl towards the bed but the bed is jank as hell so I end up launching pearl off the bed out of the giant window behind them and straight into this ocean thing with a giant rock island in it by accident

maya and gumshoe only look mildly inconvenienced by that for a minute and then apollo comes upstairs and starts screaming about this kid that I don't know if he even knows exist being launched into the stratosphere and then I don't even know what happens to this mans brain bc he starts jumping around and running around the walls on all fours because I guess animal time so gumshoe tries to catch him with a net but it does not work because his hair spikes and his nails keep tearing the nets apart so he pulls out more while maya is just sitting in the corner crying screaming fearing for her safety

also halfway through that klavier got in the room somehow and spoke like the only words anyone said in this dream in a textbox "FRÄLIEIN!!! HERR FORHEAD WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!! HER FOREHEAD!!!" he yelled that textbox for like 3 minutes until apollo stopped he didn't even try to help gumshoe with the nets but edgeworth did come in and had a visual sigh and then grabbed a net and started hitting apollo over the head with it and that made apollo pissed so he started fighting edgeworth and edgeworth was completely unphased the entire time and I think at some point trucy just started watching from the doorway with a completely static smile

while that was happening I tried to teleport pearl back to the room and it just said "pearl exploded somewhere" when I tried and then an explosive went off so I just kind of assumed she was dead because there was like 3 massive (like bigger than normal) orcas swimming around and also the explosion

and then I accidentally hit survival again and everyone started shooting arrows at me again even the people downstairs were shooting through the walls at meso I go back to god and i guess the arrows fixed apollos rabies??? so he's now normal and he casually pops off the wall and walks back downstairs while gumshoe and klavier look at him like he just killed a man and

then klavier has another textbox which he yells at apollo while he's going back to the tea party "FRÄLEIN WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!" and then he goes downstairs calmly too. throughout that whole thing apollo and klavier were just holding the teacups btw

maya is so traumatized by that she just goes to sleep. I didnt respawn pearl she's just dead everyone continues the tea party like everything is normal. normal fucking day in this household child explosion and rabies .

also klavier yelled "THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!!!" at nobody a couple minutes after the pearl incident and nobody cared but franziska whipped him so he stormed out with the other extras

I think that's the end dear god

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #im not tagging mia she does jack shit #maya fey #pearl fey #dick gumshoe #apollo justice #klavier gavin #trucy wright #'von karma no!' #wiggle's dreams #i wrote this in a google doc and the doc is just called 'turnabout rabies'

[dupliciti]

HC / MUSE UNDERSTANDING FROM GAME MEGAPOST PART 1 OF 2.

Part 2 here. CBT1 info here.

Hi, this time here to talk to the concrete canon bits ( all of Sampo’s in-game stuff atm ) and how it attributes to my understanding of my muse and where some headcanons derive from. This going to be part 1 of 2 ??? posts. It got too long and idk how else to post it because if I have any other headcanon posts…. All this stuff would be used as the base layer for those posts, y’know ? Like everything else in my head would be not directly tied to an in-game thing whereas all of this is.

If information is largely hc or IS hc, it will be italicized in full. Some sections will honestly just refer to previous posts I’ve already made, minimizing the amount I’ll be typing up here. For this part, I’m going to attempt to go in chronological order of the story as it’s presented to us in the game, some jumping is necessary to draw points and tie a headcanon together though. Leaks may be indirectly referenced but I will not flat out state when I am incorporating such information. Better safe than sorry, if you care about leaks, then maybe avoid this because there won’t be any warnings… Because like I said, I’m not going to blatantly incorporate any of them.

MAN HIDING IN SNOW.  Sampo knows he’s run into the group he’s meant to right from the beginning. Reasoning partially to do with the 4th wall break, him saying that the Trailblazers are more fun than expected. I’ll talk more on that later, but the main point is that he expected them on Jarilo. Maybe not exactly recognizing MC, but at least can gather that three outsiders not knowing anything about the planet are the people he’s looking for. He’s not stupid enough to believe that those three are Silvermane Guards, despite being like “oh you guys aren’t guards? Why didn’t you say so?” That’s just him playing his part. 

In addition to this, fate seems to be part of how the Masked Fools views things and operates. Sampo, in this first meeting with him, says: “A meeting like this has to have been written in the stars.” Yeah, because it seems like he and perhaps other Masked Fools were perfectly aware of the situation on Jarilo and knew that the Astral Express would get caught up in it. 

Sampo was supposedly hiding relics out in the snow plains. I believe that Sampo has hideouts, varying sizes, using run down and abandoned buildings in rather “dangerous” areas in order to tuck himself or goods away. Scattered throughout, so in the plains, in the city, Underworld too. This is kinda further reinforced by Lynx spotting sausage out by the building in the plains (as mentioned in her introduction). How else is he getting away with nearly four pounds of spices? He ain’t tucking that into his pocket or hauling it around unnecessarily. 

I’m pretty sure the invisible snow walking technique can be attributed as a very small draw of power as an Emanator.

I SAY WHAT I MEAN AND I MEAN WHAT I SAY. Sampo seems to have been keeping tabs on the Trailblazers, either from their entry into the city or just a bit before their run in with Bronya. He says he was watching from the shadows, so hard to say. Regardless, it’s enough for him to intervene with smoke bombs that also seem to have no issue knocking everyone, but him, unconscious. True, since he knows the contents of his own bombs he could’ve built up immunity/taken something to counteract it and perhaps have a bit of help from a certain power of his.

As I’ve discussed in my CBT1 commentary, one thing that I am absolutely taking from it is the fact that Dan Heng has an entire discussion about how not a lot of poisons/toxins in the galaxy affect him, and convinces himself that he’s just overthinking the contents because we’re all new to Jarilo and stuff. If we take this information and pair it with Dan Heng’s pointed comments about how Sampo needed to knock us out to cover up a secret. Says there’s more to him than meets the eye. If Sampo’s an Emanator, then there’s really more to him than meets the eye. We get my next little headcanon: Sampo can make use of teleportation, small enough distances. This comes from his power as an Emanator. Because he carried multiple people, Bronya by mistake, through a dangerous path to get to the Underworld. He himself says that the initial path he used to get them down there is dangerous and risky and the path WAS NOT the Furnace Core. 

I touched a little bit on Sampo’s dynamic with Natasha and other Wildfire members/Underworlders. The only other information I have to add here is that Natasha believes she sees right through Sampo. Sampo is at an advantage, his motives not exactly known but he’s helpful. Bouts of mischief are really the only thing to point towards blatant lies. There’s not much worth in figuring out that he’s lying about purposely causing brief fun though. Covers up anything else he might be doing on his own in abandoned parts… Like communicating with Masked Fools… Stuff as such… You get me?

In any case, much like Natasha says, Sampo’s troublemaking is never enough to get anyone killed… So that counts for something. 

LAP DOG.  Need to point out his insight on the Fight Club name he picks out for Dan Heng. Cold Dragon Young. I don’t believe DH’s clothing necessarily screams dragon… And it is very possible that Sampo might’ve asked for some assistance from him in coming up with a name on the spot. But considering that Sampo is aware of the Luofu and also aware that our next stop is the Luofu despite there never being an instance in which we would’ve made him specifically aware, it’s a bit sus. He might’ve had insight somehow, just as he had some insight on Belobog. 

The way he talks about geomarrow, the underworld and overworld trade and such… It all sounds like stuff he’s recounting or telling as if he’s been told. Not first hand accounts. Dan Heng again pointed in bringing up that Sampo is the only thing that moves up and down, Sampo keeps asking him not to spread rumors. Yeah, I mean, posing it in that way only draws attention to him, but to what end? That’s only to be decided by the Astral Expres crew and not the people of Jarilo. 

Seele conflating situations with Sampo is interesting, never really having evidence. It’s clear she doesn’t trust him, but regardless, he seems to cause trouble when it’s not expected or when it’s unnecessary for both the Underworld and Wildfire. Just to see where things go or how it plays out. Never enough to cause a lot of harm, but enough to rile people up.

Sampo implies that when asked a question correctly, he can answer it. If your muse asks my Sampo a question correctly, then he’ll give an answer closer to what you’re seeking.

There’s not much else to comment on for his relationship with Wildfire. He’s a contractor, a mercenary… Hired on for jobs when requested or when he seeks work. Mostly just about making money but also seems to fix whatever boredom might come. Very contented lap dog in that he’ll do whatever because he can afford to on this planet, money is money, Wildfire is consistent work.

BOSS SVAROG’S LAIR. One of my favorite things to point out here is when Sampo is guiding us around the vagrant camp, his personality peeks through, whether it's part of a facade or not is a bit difficult to tell… But I believe it’s the real guy, whatever is left beneath the mask. 

He’s amused by March’s “open sesame” attempt, calling it “colorful”. The only suspicious thing about his use of this word is that he also uses it to describe his past in his eidolon activation voice line. Even so, he’s smiling behind her, his eyebrows in the same position they would be for 

both the gentle and shy expressions, implying that there’s something genuine here.

Another neat thing is going through the certification process. Sampo’s confidence can’t help him if he doesn’t legitimately know the answer to something that does in fact need a real answer. He does end up saying he doesn’t know everything and then warns the group that people around here might deceive them. Interesting. Sampo, while not technically deceiving, happens to not have to disclose any information about himself during the Crew’s journey on Jarilo. At least not directly.

Anyways, when you get a question wrong Sampo doesn’t insult you nor does he make fun of you. Might be because he was humbled, but like for a Fool it could’ve been a brief moment for him to at least get a tiny laugh in. While he might find amusement in small things that are inherently funny and perhaps childish, making fun of someone’s intelligence in a more serious scenario doesn’t fit here for him.

He’s really not fond of the risk the group is taking by waltzing on up to Svarog. Thus, he splits again, seemingly in cowardice. However, we later see it is because he brought Natasha over as fast as he could. Difficult to say that the timing would’ve made sense since we had to help out Clara in between, but it is entirely plausible that he made use of his Emanator power to pull a few strings, short teleportation… Hmm. 

GOING BACK TO THE SURFACE. Small part, circling back on the fact that the group will now follow Sampo through the Furnace Core. Like I said, DH suspects that he’s hiding something. Sampo more than likely had a trick up his sleeve like teleportation and perhaps some sort of strength because if you ask why you need Sampo as a guide, he says that the path of the Furnace Core has been blocked for over ten years and very few know how to get through. Which makes it sound dangerous if it’s closer to the vagrant camp to begin with. How does this rule out the other path? Sampo took a dangerous path while carrying a lot of people all at once? It doesn’t sound logical. So, everything points to him hiding some hidden power that is not visible to the naked eye that he had to utilize to transport everyone efficiently.

Sampo’s commentary on the Landaus (Gepard and Serval) occurs around this part. Serval I’ve already mentioned in this post here. To briefly reiterate, Sampo did something to piss Serval off after things built up on top of him turning more into a criminal that Gepard likely warned Serval, like “watch him” or “stop being friends with him” type of stuff. Yet, Sampo sounds like he was genuinely fond of her, likely the only person he might consider a real friend. 

Here Sampo talks about how he doesn’t know Gepard too well despite “dealing with him the most”, mainly because he is a criminal. Though, based on his voice lines and how he talks about Serval, Gepard has always been hovering around him from the start. Their dynamic and relationship are superficial, but Serval being the person that would’ve led to one learning about the other prior to Sampo getting into real trouble. Asking Sampo more about him just leads him to exposing that outside/superficial opinion, which includes the fact that he’s handsome and going as far as to say that Gep’s lack of charm is charming. All of this could be for laughs, no one asked for the extra bits. Sampo is known for including fluff in what he says, he’s definitely making a jab at Gepard. I am of the shipping preference mindset when it comes to this phrase, but realistically, Sampo is saying this because he doesn’t have much to say about Gepard as he doesn’t really know him too well compared to Serval.

Reminder, Sampo doesn’t have it in for you. Though, I’d say this is because of the greater Masked Fools picture. 

I DREAMED ABOUT SAMPO. I’ve partially discussed what occurs here in two posts.

First, Sampo’s ability to break the fourth wall is shared with Aha. For my purposes, this is going to be labeled as an Emanator power.

Second, Sampo saying that he lives by the quote “True happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind”. I took a philosophical dive to come to the conclusion that Elation is not necessarily happiness, but Sampo through his own aesthetics tries to achieve happiness through embodying feeding into his own pursuit of Elation. If that at all makes sense. 

It’s nice that he is now a confirmed Masked Fool because he, like the other Masked Fools in the game, love using their Elation related vocabulary and other not really subtle ways to suggest that they are Fools. Aka “performance”, “joy”, “curtain call”, shadowy comic relief”.  

I believe he was speaking to Giovanni, given that we later see Giovanni after he confirms that the Astral Express crew are fun. Further supported by the fact that whoever he’s talking to in the scene mentions returning to Epsilon. What’s mildly concerning is that if this is Giovanni… he somehow was able to observe these interactions.

I’m about to bring in two different things that are not specific to Sampo to talk more to Sampo and Aha’s relationship. Really going to go into a weird one here. If this was in fact Aha rather than Giovanni, then it would make sense how Aha can observe what happened on Jarilo. Aha apparently is the one laughing in the Phantylia fight, meaning that they are observing the fight. Giovanni in Aetherium Wars brings up eyes watching. These Masked Fools seem to be aware of a greater presence with the ability to watch things unfold. If both Aeon and Emanator utilize their power to communicate in thought, meaning the dream truly is made up by the head… But instead of it being two-way, they then projected into the dream of the Trailblazer… This seems plausible to then allow Sampo to break the fourth wall of a video game, much like the one Aha recognized themselves to be in (SU).

#( ◇ ᵖᵘʳˢᵘⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ┊ hc; )

[gunebuggieswriting]

̶Good Bad Habits Run In The Family: Chapter Four

DPxDC Crossover, Jason Adopts Danny AU

[AO3] [FF.net] [Wattpad]

First Chapter || << Last Chapter || Next Chapter >>

It had been about three weeks since Danny had ended up in Gotham, and he was still hiding out in Red Hood’s base. Danny should have left by now. He shouldn’t wake up every day and expect to see the other man, or wonder what food he’ll bring, or wait to see what book he’ll let Danny read to keep him busy. He was surprised that the anti-hero had let him stay this long, and the fact he allowed himself to stay there.

Now that it had been around three weeks, Danny couldn’t really tell time anymore, but he knew that he was overstaying his welcome. Red Hood was a genuinely nice guy, almost too nice sometimes, especially for his reputation as the “big bad crime lord”. Danny snorted at the thought, looking at the pile of books that he had already read, knowing that all of them had to belong to the Hood. Who would have thought that Gotham’s own well known anti-hero was a bookworm? Sometimes he even came off as a nerd, going on rants and debates with Danny about some of the books he seemed particularly passionate about. Danny didn’t really read before Red Hood lended him some books, let alone participate in deep conversations about them, but he had to admit it was nice.

Danny sighed, folding the blanket and laying it on top of the mattress. He shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, he didn’t want to make this harder than it should be. He should have never let himself get attached.

He looked at the notebook that Red had left for him a few days ago after hearing that Danny liked to draw sometimes. Danny only drew a few times in it, mostly little doodles or something to do with the books he read. Now though, he was writing a small note with a page he tore out.

Danny knew it wasn’t really fair. To leave the older male like this after everything he’s done for him without giving anything back. He was just trying to save Red Hood from the extra trouble, from all the baggage that he came with. It was the only thing that he could do to repay him at the moment, making this the easiest option. Maybe one day he’ll come back and properly thank him. He doesn’t know if he’ll even be around to see that day, but he’ll try, even if he can’t promise it.

After trying to clean up the warehouse as best as he could, he gave it a last look around. None of the things in there belonged to him, not even the clothes he had on, so he didn’t have anything to pack up. He had stacked the books up, leaving his farewell note on it, and rolled up the mattress he slept on. His wound was fully healed, not even leaving a scar, almost like nothing ever happened, and he had all of his energy back.

There wasn’t anything keeping him here anymore, no other excuses he could give himself to stay. Not that he should. He’s already been here too long. It was only a matter of time before all of his foolish actions followed him here, and he didn’t want anybody else in the crossfire, especially Red Hood. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true, but he cares about the man and he’s gotten far too close. It was one of the things making it so hard to leave.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the very familiar silent footsteps from the entrance of the warehouse. He was about to leave when he realized that these quiet steps were different from Red Hood’s, the pattern of them were too, and nowadays the man announced that he was there in order to not scare Danny. This wasn’t Red Hood, this was somebody else, and by the sounds of it they were trying to be careful, meaning that they weren't meant to be in here. Danny knew that he wouldn’t be safe here forever, that eventually somebody would find him. It was luck that it happened to be today while he was leaving.

Now on the verge of panicking, Danny went invisible and turned around to the wall, going intangible. He had a quick thought about taking the note in order to leave less of a trace, but went against it as there was plenty of other evidence he was here. He walked through the wall and flailed for a second as he realized he was pretty high up, before centering himself to float, not looking back at the intruder to even risk getting a look. He had to leave, before he was caught. He may be invisible at the moment, but he knows from experience that there were plenty of people with the technology to find him anyway, including an entire government branch.

He quickly changed into his ghost form, using extra focus to keep himself invisible while doing so, and flew off, no longer chained to gravity. It felt weird being in this form again after several weeks of keeping it hidden. Now though, he could feel how restless he’s become from being inside for so long, relishing in the way the moon shone instead of depending on artificial light. Even going through the smog and listening to the constant honking of cars or the distant sounds of gunfire soothed some part of him. It helped distract him from the ache in his core and the longing in his brain, away from the fact that he was leaving another thing he’s grown to again.

He flew, his legs becoming a wispy tail as he picked up speed, wanting to get away from the warehouse as quickly as possible, as if it’d help him forget these feelings.

------☆------☆------☆-----☆-----☆-----☆------

Red Robin was closing in on the next warehouse he was going to investigate, but at this point he was starting to think that none of them was going to hold any clues as to what Jason could be up to. He began this search a few days after his talk with Alfred, and he has still yet to not come up with anything more than speculation and observation.

It was infuriating to say the least, an insult to his skills. He had asked Barbara to try and keep a close tab on him while he was Red Hood, because as much as Tim would have liked to himself, he wasn’t nearly as tech savvy as Oracle. The woman agreed, somewhat, saying that she already was keeping close eyes on him as she could. Tim knew that she already had a lot on her plate to keep track of and work on, but he hoped that she understood how serious this situation could be.

History often does repeat itself, but Tim didn’t want it to this time, and he was going to make sure it didn’t. Red Hood being gone may get rid of Tim’s “replacement” title, but that didn’t mean he wanted the man dead.

Tim sighed internally, now right next to the warehouse. This was the sixth one he’s been to in the last two days, and he’s been trying to see if any of Red Hood’s bases would have any kind of clue as to what has been going on. He’s been trying extra careful to not get caught this time, resorting to the process of elimination instead of following Red Hood, going so far as to avoid wherever the man was while searching.

Cracking open a small vent, Tim hurriedly wiggled himself inside, picking himself up from the ground and glancing around. Unlike many of the other warehouses, this one had the lights on, meaning that somebody had to be in here. He stood there, listening for any signs of life, when he heard a small rustling sound deeper into the building on the right side.

Tim had a feeling it wasn’t Red Hood, or any of his people, as there would be a lot more commotion if it was, not this unnerving quietness and chill that lingered for too long. He began to slowly creep forward, walking on practically silent feet, dodging the light by rushing in between shadows. As he continued to get closer to the part he heard the noise, the hair on the back of his neck rose, and he had to suppress a shiver. It may have been abnormally cool, but it wasn’t that cold, so what could be making him feel this way? It wasn’t fear, as his heart rate hadn’t increased. It was odd, and it made him even more curious, almost morbidly so.

Then, when he finally peaked around a corner, the feeling was gone, and nobody was there. He was confused and disappointed, as he swore he heard something. Then he walked more into it, looking around with furrowed eyebrows. There was a rolled up mattress and a blanket on the floor, which wasn’t usual for any of Red Hood’s places, as he didn’t tend to stay in them. He made his way over to them, inspecting them, noticing how there wasn’t a hint of dust on it, looking like it was just folded. A sign that somebody was just here.

Where were they now? They couldn’t have left through where Tim came in from or the entrance, as he would have seen them pass by. There were no windows or vents in this area, and although there might be one somewhere else in the building, the person couldn’t have had enough time to get to them before Tim made his way here. It made no sense and he hated it. How did this person straight up disappear?

Unless they were a meta.

He shook his head, realizing that a meta being in Gotham was a low chance outside from the main rogues and Duke. A lot of them didn’t come to the city, even with the protection laws, due to Batman immediately investigating them. It wasn’t that the man hated metas, even though Tim knew he had a somewhat dislike of them, but they always seemed to cause trouble. Either by becoming the next big villain or getting targeted themselves, it caused quite a mess for Bruce to deal with.

Though, it may explain why Red Hood was being so secretive and cautious, knowing that keeping a meta hidden would get him in trouble. Tim shoved that theory in his brain, keeping it for him to ponder about later, when he had more evidence to back it up.

Still wondering how a person managed to escape without him noticing, Tim backed away from the mattress and began to search the rest of the room. There wasn’t much in there that was noteworthy, the crates holding Red Hood’s normal supply and everything else seemingly normal. Then his eyes caught onto the stack of books in the corner, with what appeared to be a piece of paper on top. He started walking over to it, before he heard the large metal door at the entrance open up.

Sparing another quick glance at the paper, only able to read the first sentence, something about being thankful and sorry that they was leaving, making Tim even more confused, he quickly made his way to hide behind some crates. He waited tensely as Red Hood crossed the floors of his warehouse, coming towards the place Tim was at.

“Hey brat, I’m back! I brought some food I think you might like!” He shouted, shaking a package of oreos, surprising Tim. The man was in fact keeping somebody here, and it seemed like it was a kid from the name he called them. This was the reason Jason has been more busy lately, disappearing more often and for longer lengths of time. He was taking care of somebody. It all made sense to Tim now, the pieces clicking together in his brain that were already starting to form.

As the man got closer, Tim began to sneak away, heading for the entrance, luckily not getting caught as he passed the other. He was at the vent he came in through, already bending down to fight his way back through it.

“Kid?..” Tim was halfway through when he heard the confused question of the man quietly echo through the building, already knowing that he had found out the person was gone, Tim made a quick mental note that the person was indeed a child, which he didn’t know how to feel about, as Red Hood didn’t seem like the type of person to take care of a kid.

Rolling out from the warehouse, he started to hurriedly depart from the building, the new information he had circling in his brain with a thousand more questions.

He felt like this just got a lot more complicated, and that whoever this “kid” was, was at least somewhat important to Jason. Who and what they are was the biggest question. Though now Tim had to wonder where they were as well. If only he had enough time to read the note, maybe he would have more information to figure this all out.

------☆------☆------☆-----☆-----☆-----☆------

As soon as Jason walked into the warehouse he had been allowing Danny to stay in, he knew something was off. It didn’t feel right, and it was too quiet. Still, he brushed it off and continued to walk to where Danny usually stayed, hoping that he was there reading the newest book he brought in or something.

“Hey brat, I’m back! I brought some food I think you might like!” He yelled into the building, the words echoing around the room as he shook the package of oreos he had in his hand. He knew that it wasn’t an actual meal, but he had to make things work as he sort of rushed over here when he realized that he hadn’t given the kid any food since way earlier that day. He was trying his best to take care of the teen while also keeping him hidden. Afterall, he still didn’t know what to do with him despite the fact of him being a meta or some other species.

He hasn't got around to asking the other either, as he felt like it was never the right time to ask something so personal. The boy was already skittish enough as it was, he didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable with intrusive questions. He was also widely considered to be part of Batman’s brood as well, even though he would never count himself as a bat, and a crime lord of sorts. That’s not the most welcoming image to have when it comes to talking about very sensitive topics.

He noticed how he didn’t get a response, such as “whatever old man” or “whatcha got?” that he usually got. There wasn’t even a sound, and it made Red Hood feel weird, an uncomfortable pit sinking in his stomach. Turning the corner, he was hoping to see Danny on the mattress asleep or for him to pop up and scare him, but there was nobody, and what he did see made the pit worse.

The mattress was rolled up and the blanket was folded on top of it. The stack of books was neatly tucked into the corner, a piece of paper lying on top with the notebook beside the books.

“Kid?..” He called, glancing around, already having a feeling what was on the note. He sighed, dropping the cookies on a nearby crate and walked over to the stack of books. He bent down and picked up the paper, reading it.

I’d like to say thank you for everything, and sorry for leaving so suddenly. I just needed to go before something I didn’t like happened. You’re a pretty cool guy, and definitely my favorite anti-hero or vigilante in Gotham now. I can’t exactly repay you right now, but one day I’ll try to, so don’t die before then. Okay?

See ya later,

Danny

Jason cursed, his hand tightening around the small note, crumbling a bit. He knew he should’ve done something, spoke to Danny sooner, anything! Danny couldn’t be alone in this city. Not without knowing how to properly survive or at least a good way to leave it. He wasn’t from here and was now smack in the middle of Crime Alley. It would be dangerous, especially with him not caring to hide he wasn’t a normal human. Who knows what can happen to him? Who would hurt him if they caught him?

Feeling the usual rise of anger in him, he punched the wall, not wanting it to consume him. He really needed to get his anger issues under control, as they always seemed to bother him at the worst times, including when he was worried.

Wait, worried? Yeah, Jason has been caring for Danny and trying to keep him away from trouble, but being worried meant he got attached to the boy. He cursed again, unlatching his helmet and tossing it to the ground, tangling his fingers in his hair as he tried to get himself to think while calming his nerves.

He needed to find Danny and make sure he didn’t get harmed in this city with a bunch of wackos in it. He wouldn’t keep him in the warehouse this time, as he would figure out another place for him to stay. Maybe with him? Sure, his apartment in Crime Alley may not be the safest place to live, but it would be a lot better than this building. This time he’d actually get some answers from Danny without causing him to run off, and explain to him that Gotham wasn’t a safe place for him. He might even have to find him another place to go to, because he surely wasn’t as hell going to tell Bruce that there was potentially a new meta or alien or whatever the fuck Danny was in the city, only for him to get suspicious and overreact.

Stuffing the note in his pocket, he slipped his helmet back on and steadied his feet. He’ll have to find Danny before any of the other bats do, as he knows how well that’ll go, and before the other could get too far away. There was also the chance of some other dangerous person finding him, such as a rogue or a creep. If any of them hurt Danny, he’d probably kill them, it’s not like he really cared about the Bat’s rules.

Marching out of the warehouse and hopping onto his bike, he revved it up once before speeding off, determined to find the boy before anything happened. He felt responsible for him now, and he wasn’t about to let something happen to the brat. Not when he could stop it. Not when he cared.

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[imaginedreamwrite]

Taste Of Honey: Part 5

The house was quiet save for the sound of the wood furnace running with the addition of the fireplace crackling in the background. There was little else to distract you from the massive mountain of a man in front of you, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets.

His chin lowered as he gazed at you beneath his thick, black lashes, blue eyes bright and hopeful. He was beautiful, even if he was your captor, with a thick yet well-trimmed beard that made the tall and broad man look even bigger than you had initially first thought. His hair was equally as thick, appeared soft to the touch and had brushed the back of his neck with a slight curl to the ends.

His voice was deep and husky when he had spoken, the tone both erotic and tantalizing when he was addressing you. The contrast between wanting to deck with him a two by four, and having him whisper in your ear was maddening. You were here because he had some sick sense to kidnap you from your camping trip, someplace you were only stopping over to, to waste some time before making the last leg of your trip.

“I know this sounds crazy-“

“Because it is. You are crazy. You are crazed. You’re insane and you need to be committed.” You squared your shoulders and centred your gaze on the front door of the cabin, on the wooden barrier that kept you from the exterior and you from this hold he swore was settled over the land. You couldn’t have left even if you wanted to, or so he had stated. He had already been awake when you descended the stairs with a handful of books you wanted to use as a weapon against him, one of the few accessible items you could grab without having to be exposed by the open layout of the kitchen.

“Honeybee I promise I’m not crazy.” Ari pleaded with you as if he was pleading for his very life, his voice was wavering in desperation and in this state it appeared as if he was an embodiment of Jekyll and Hyde.

A man who was at least 6’6 or 6’7, and whose height was matched with broad shoulders and a firm chest. The muscular makeup of this man was impossible to fathom fully, as every inch of him seemed to be crafted and created with strength in mind. And yet…despite his massive muscularity, when Ari was pressed against you when he was carrying you back to the cabin, he was somehow soft. He was so strong and so well carved, and yet he was soft and comforting.

“You have to be! This is insane! No sane person-!” You cut yourself off with a frustrated scream, an angered cry that soundtracked your actions as you turned swiftly on your heel and began stalking toward the front door, your feet stomping dramatically on the floor. You weren’t just making a show of your aggression, you were releasing some of your bottled-up tension as your determination to prove him wrong had clashed with the increased depths of indescribable comfort that had come all too easily from being around him.

“I’ll prove you wrong!” You twisted the handle and yanked open the door with more power than you had perhaps intended and as the door had slammed against the wall the crack in the glass that had already been there having grown and splintered.

You stomped across the porch and down the steps, knowing full well that Ari was going to follow you. You had known full well that he would be trailing along behind you and that had only made you more aggravated and irritated. You had to grit your teeth and clenched your hands by your sides as you grumbled a slew of curses while pushing yourself through the groves of trees to find a trail or a path to find something to get you back to civilization.

“You can’t walk the whole way, honey.” Ari, like you, had suspected, had followed you out of the cabin and was following you now.

“Yeah? Just fucking watch me!” You called over your shoulder, not daring to look at him.

“There’s a barrier, like an invisible wall keeping us in. It’s the hibernation charm, and even if you could reach the edge, you couldn’t go through it, you’re an unmarked and unmated human.”

“Unmarked and unmated? What the hell does that mean?” You had stopped and turned toward him, your eyes set in a steely glare. “You’re human too.”

“Partly.” Ari had stopped when you had, the corner of his lips twitching as he studied you with conflicting admiration and debauching lust and hunger. “Part of me is…kind of a beast.”

“Beast.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes then turned your back to him and kept stalking through the woods, determined to find something.

“Sweetheart, there’s…100 acres. That’s 4,356,000 square feet. You can’t walk that.” Ari had countered your determination with a fact, a stark fact that had stalled you.

Not just because you got the feeling he was lying about big the land you were on really was.

You had stopped walking and stood in the middle of the density of the trees, the large cluster of bark encrusted trunks, broken limbs and twigs littering the ground and the colourful array of leaves falling for the autumn and the cusp of winter. You stood there in the woods with your captor behind you, divided between two conflicting observations and reactions.

On one hand, standing on the cusp of the forest with very little around you to fixate on but the sounds of nature and the breathtaking scenery, the colourful carpet of leaves and the roughened bark that you wanted to trace with your fingertips, the peacefulness, was unlike anything you had ever come across before

However, on the other hand, you were taken from the forest. You were kidnapped and taken from your camp that was just a stopover point, you were taken and now being held on this piece of land by some madman who was insisting that not only was he not entirely human, but that there was some kind of spell, some kind of charm that was keeping the two of you locked down here.

“Y/N, honeybee…come back to the cabin. Come back inside and I’ll make you something to eat. Get you some tea?” Ari had reached for you, his large warm hand had touched your wrist and you had shivered at the sensation of dull electricity pulsing through.

There was a dull bubble of warmth in your belly the longer he had touched you, the longer you had allowed his skin to have contact with yours, and that unkempt sensation had only grown tenfold when he had stepped behind you. You had closed your eyes and held your breath, bating your reaction when Ari, your captor, had slipped a thick flannel coat onto your shoulders, the material and the size swallowing you like a blanket.

“Come back inside, you’re going to get cold.” His voice was as soft as his touch, and for a moment you felt weak. For a moment you wanted to crumble and just let him, have you. For a moment, you felt as if you had never felt so whole; so perfect.

“Sweetheart-“ And then the spell had broken, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, ripping you from that daze.

“You took me, you kidnapped me.” You ripped the coat from your body and balled it up, your hands shaking every moment, every second until you had thrown it at him until you had pushed past him and stalked back to the cabin.

It was early the next morning when he had heard evidence that you had been up before him.

The door opened and closed with a heavy slam that was almost immediately followed by muttered curses that had extended beyond the area of the house you were in. Ari could hear you, he could hear everything you were saying, even though the floorboards, the walls and the doors, Ari could hear you. His ability to hear you and your frustrations had brought a smile to his face as he lay in his bed. He had been giving you as much space as he could while stating the needs his bear had for closeness, the clear divide between what he wanted to do and what he had to do was contradictory to each other.

Ari listened to the sound of you clanging pans in the kitchen as you had become determined to cook dinner, a way of keeping yourself occupied in the cabin. Your anger was radioactive in the cabin, barely contained within the walls that had belonged to you and Ari, and if he had been a weaker creature he would have been fearful of you.

Instead, he had admired your tenacity and drive. Instead, he had found your anger and determination, your temporary hatred of him to be part of the very driving force that made him want you so badly.

“Do you need help?” Ari had carefully approached the kitchen, being mindful and wary of your proximity to knives and the hot stove, and either one could be made out to be a weapon in some form or another.

Ari had stopped when you raised your head and stared him down, your eyebrows becoming knitted tighter and the corner of your lips twitching before they formed a hard line.

You were not happy and you were going to let him know it.

“What are you?” The dishes clanged against each other as you set them on the counter, working methodically to busy yourself and your hands. “Other than a stalking kidnapper…”

“What do you think I am?” Ari slowly encroached on your space, testing the waters as he looked past you to the series of knives set in the block.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.” You sneered and smacked the wooden spoon against the pot and then placed your hands on your hips. “Are you going to kill me? Is that why you have 100 acres? Are you going to kill me and bury my body somewhere? Are you going to turn me into some kind of domesticated housewife? A sex slave?”

Ari hadn’t meant to, and he knew it would have angered you further, but he couldn’t help or resist the bright and amused smile from bursting on his face. Nor could he have prevented the snort of laughter and the ripple of amusement shooting through him at the notion.

As if Ari could have ever laid a hand on you to hurt you as if he could have ever turned his mate into a domesticated housewife or sex slave.

If anything, you would be the one to completely flip Ari on his head, you would be the one to completely ruin him.

“It’s not funny!” You shrieked and picked up the spoon again, aiming it at him with vicious intent. “You took me from my campsite! You ripped me from the area and I woke up here!”

“Honeybee,” Ari couldn’t possibly have thought you were any more adorable and endearing, and then you proved him wrong, “I’m not…I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ari’s smile was still wide, his bear satiated and pleased with any interaction even as small as it was. His bear was eager to be close to his mate, eager to see your fight and fire so vibrant and radiating. This was what kind of happiness his mother had hoped for him, even if it was still in the stages of animosity and tensity.

“You say that,” you grit your teeth and turned your anger toward the pot, stirring aggressively, “yet you take me. I was supposed to start a new job, I was supposed to move to LA, I was supposed to have a new life and then some dumb, giant Sasquatch-“

“Werebear.” Ari had cut you off, correcting you slowly and patiently.

“What?” You set the spoon against the edge of the metal and gave him your attention. “What did you just say?”

“Not a Sasquatch, love.” The corner of Ari’s lips twitched when he hears your teeth grinding. “Sasquatch‘s are out farther west. I’m a werebear.” Ari had slipped a hand in his jean pockets and inhaled subtly, committing your scent and every note attached to it, to memory.

“You’re delusional aren’t you? Or…or insane? Are you insane?” You stuttered and stepped back, the connection that was already formed between you, was dividing you.

“Would you like me to show you?” Ari suggested, drawing his attention from you to the food you were cooking, the seasoning and ingredients stirring his near insatiable hunger. “What I look like?”

“What you look…seriously if you’re going to kill me and bury my body just say so. Quit jerking me around.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Y/N.” Ari had placed his hand upon the counter and slid his palm toward yours. “You’re my mate.”

He watched you, studied you as your fingers brushed against each other and the innate, naturally bountiful and strong bond between a werebear and his mate, had quantified the rush of endorphins and dopamine that flooded the two of you.

Warmth passed from you to him, and back again. Warmth had drawn the two of you, at least your heart and souls, together.

“I’m nothing to you but your captee…capturee…capturedess..?”

“Something like that.” Ari laughed to himself. “My little captive mate.”

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