#look is this a war i've largely lost? yes

[woolandcoffee]

Semi-regular reminder that I hate the term "artificial intelligence" becoming short hand for "marginally faster data sorting computer program" and I genuinely think a lot of y'all are foolish for taking the marketing bait.

#woolly rambles #also be aware this is the royal y'all in use here #i mean y'all broadly not you all in specific #but yeah like the adoption of “artificial intelligence” as the term for every line of new code is designed to bring in more VC money #that's it #that's all it is #VC money has been drying up in the tech world because there really hasn't been anything new or innovative for some time #but you make a slightly faster data collecting/sorting program and call it artificial intelligence #well maybe some idiot with a lot of money will fund your start up #then its off to the races #look is this a war i've largely lost? yes #but i will be the annoying person at the back of the bar growling “it isn't artificially intelligent damnit” until the day i die so

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: jake sully x male reader (+sully family)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: There were many struggles that came with fatherhood—you must find a solution for each one.

ᴀɴᴏɴ: jake and reader are like the dads of the sully children, basically the sully's having gay dads??

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6565

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of death (lighthearted) never happens tho, swearing, much worrying about children, surrogate neytiri referring to your kids as hers too (idk just in case)

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: so. i've got a lot of things to say. that's why i'm putting a second a/n at the bottom. - two gays cannot have an avatar child if they can't have children therefore surrogate Neytiri <3 - my first attempt at writing a full sentence in Na'vi, y'all are probably not fluent in it but i hope it's correct. - regrettably, there's only one scene with Tuk and only one mention of Spider - less about the relationship between jake and reader, more about the children

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam was a blessing.

Him and Neytiri both.

When she agreed to be a surrogate for your children, you were both over the moon, over each of the three of Eywa'eveng.

Neytiri knew it best, the stress of having a child. Though it was all her, her body, her belly, her birthing, you and Jake stuck to her side and stressed with her. You could see her pain, in her eyes, and Jake said he felt it himself.

The musings did not help Neytiri through the pain.

Omatikaya welcoming ceremonies consisted of everyone in the village, close family, friends, acquaintances, everyone rounded up to welcome the newborn. But this one was special, for there was one mother and two fathers. Strange as it may have been, the three of you knew there'd be plenty more to come.

When Jake held him up towards the sky, calling the name, "Neteyam", you knew the name truly belonged to him, even if the newborn had yet developed characteristic traits.

The first year was not pretty. If it weren't for Mo'at and Neytiri–and thought it may be harsh, it is the truth–Neteyam would probably be dead.

Jake always knew there was a thing with babies. They didn't have a sense of danger. On Earth, some of the deadliest stuff they could find was a fork and an outlet. On Pandora, however, there were much worse things.

He was aware of this, both of you were, of the Hammerheads, Thanators, Viperwolves that each posed a dangerous threat to your child. Even herbivores, like Flathead Rams, could trample over your baby like he was nothing. He couldn't roam, either, for he didn't know the difference between a poisonous plant and a safe one, and the differences were scarce. Not to mention, they grew close to the ground. Even the carnivorous plants were huge enough to swallow him whole.

So you both watched him, most of the time.

When the hunt called, however, it was only one of you. You took turns.

Why? Because the mighty Toruk Makto, Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, once war chief of three tribes at once, was not exempt from taking care of the baby.

Besides, he kind of liked it. He liked looking at his boy, knowing that in all ways except biological, Neteyam was his.

He loved when the little baby wrapped his four little blue fingers around one of his five large ones. He was so tiny, so defenseless. He had to take care of him. Couldn't let him out of his sight.

He was also so, so cute.

Neteyam lets out a little yawn, stretching all his limbs except for the hand holding his father's finger.

"Aww," Jake coos. "dinner's in a bit. The game's not even here yet. You can sleep."

As time passes, and Neteyam drifts off in his father's warm, large arms that encompassed him, Jake gets lost in the sight and his thoughts. Neteyam was his child. He never thought he'd have one.

He doesn't register the sound of you propping your bow up on the wall, or your footsteps, or a portion of the fresh hunt being placed next to the fire.

In fact, he doesn't really notice you at all until you sit next to him.

You wrap your arms around him, one around his back, the other around his stomach below his arms and Neteyam, and settle your head into the crook of his neck.

Jake laughs lowly, your nose against his neck's skin slightly ticklish—he didn't think the Na'vi were ticklish, hadn't learned it until he was victim to your fingers. "Kxì, my love. Tired?"

"Ngenga pllertxe fura tawtute lì'fya... ‘Ìnglìsì. Tìftang si." (You're speaking that sky people language... English. Stop it.)

Ever since the first time, he's memorized the words, therefore knows their meaning. "You know I don't speak Na'vi well. Right? Or are you too tired to remember?"

"Perfectly conscious enough to remember." You laugh lazily, "Just love to tease you."

Jake presses the side of his head against the top of yours, the best affection he can offer with Neteyam in his arms. "Zola‘u nìprrte’. Happy?"

"Yes."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Where Neteyam was yours, Lo'ak was Jake's.

But first, came the unexpected Kiri. A month after Neytiri affirmed that she would have your second child, Norm and Max called with a panic.

One morning, as bored eyes strayed from scientific screens and microscopes, Norm discovered a bump on Grace's avatar's body. There were many theories, but each was discredited. The tank was safe, you were all sure, even if you did not know anything of the amniotic fluid within it. It wasn't scratched, didn't show any signs of opening, it displayed nothing at all. So what could be the cause?

The answer went unanswered for another two months. Until, at the third month, Norm realized that the size lined up with that of a human pregnancy. It was already the size of a seven month old baby bump. Which meant... soon enough, the vacant avatar would be having a baby.

There was hardly a discussion of who would raise it. Jake knew that he was indebted to Grace, that even though he had yet another child on the way, whatever came of Grace's avatar was his to take care of.

Kiri was born first. Lo'ak was soon to be on his way. However, the season for the first communion with Eywa was approaching. Though having the three of them commune with the Great Mother at the same time would be wonderful, the first communion was not to be delayed.

While Jake helped Neteyam attach his queue to the Tree of Souls, you helped Kiri.

Her eyes, her smile, toothless even, her dilated pupils... She was elated. She was so happy, and you mirrored her smile too.

This wasn't your kid, wasn't Jake's either, but you would raise her as one of your own.

Lo'ak and Kiri... they both came out with five fingers and little eyebrows. It was a scary thing, to have children that looked different from everyone else. Jake knew that, with an Avatar body, it was possible. Seeing it himself, though...

Neteyam, being oldest, required a little less care. He slept by himself at his crib. The newborns slept with you whilst the two of you waited for Neytiri's hunt.

Lo'ak was cuddled up in his father's arms, Kiri in yours. Her fingers were wrapped around your smallest finger, what Jake would call his ring finger. "Five fingers.." You muttered to yourself. You'd counted them many times over.

Jake hears you. "And eyebrows."

"Just like you." You muse with a laugh. Jake laughs along too, but you notice the difference; his laugh lacks its usual humor.

"What is it?" You ask, concerned lace with his words like the weaving of a necklace.

"Nothing." He shakes his head. He couldn't worry you, especially because he wasn't even sure if these five fingers and eyebrows would make any difference.

"I can tell there's something." You remain stubborn, scooting even closer to him. It was one of the qualities he actually loved about you, as annoying as it could be. "You can't evade me, darling."

"Darling? You picked up the word?"

"Jake." You're deflecting.

"I know." He sighs, "I know. It's just... They're different, Kiri and Lo'ak, different from others their age. It's not something I want for them."

"You think it'll affect the way they are treated?"

"Yes."

"Darling." You repeat the pet name more stern now, calling for his attention. He lifts his gaze from his baby boy to meet your eyes. They're yellow, they're golden, just like his. "You were different. But now you are not. You're Olo'eyktan, one of the us; one of the people, one of the Omatikaya. These children are yours, and they are mine. They are part of the Omatikaya."

"But they–"

"Extra fingers, extra hair on their face. The eyebrows are expressive, lovely. The fingers are good, help with dexterity." You tilt your head forward, "They will be fine."

Just as the same as he yearns to hold you, he wishes he believed you. For now, however, he settles on your only point of contact being your lips, and his assured belief about these children being that you and he would love them to the ends of the Earth.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The differences meant nothing to Jake, there would be no change in the way he treated them. Soon enough, he'd sort of forgotten, for the most part.

What couldn't be forgotten, though, were his Olo'eyktan duties.

The problem was, you were gone for a little while. The second problem was, Neytiri was taking care of Neteyam. Now that didn't quiet seem like a problem, but she was taking care of him before you left and before he realized he had important Olo'eyktan stuff to do. He couldn't just bother Neytiri to take care of his kids! The third problem was, they were his kids! He couldn't just leave them. They were hardly two months old.

So now, he was left with a dilemma. Baby carriers.

For humans, it was a little embarrassing to, as a father, be wearing one of them. But to the Na'vi, it was just another part of life, a necessity.

Jake was a Na'vi now. He had to get over human societal norms.

"Hanging in there, baby girl?" Jake asks Kiri–as if she can understand him–who unfortunately has to take the tight space on his back.

After getting the silent answer he was expecting, Jake begins his work. As expected, no Na'vi seem to pay him any mind. They greet him just the same as any other day, the only difference being the small coos directed at his children. He's just happy they love them.

As Jake checks his daughter is safe on his back for the umpteenth time, he hears something wrong.

Click.

He stares ahead, obviously disturbed. His eyebrow furrows as he finds the camera, with a diminishing flash, being held by the scientist he regrettably called a friend.

"Norm, don't you have shit to do?" The swear word doesn't faze him, for the babies were too young to even register the word.

The scientist adjusts his exopack over his shit-eating grin. "Research, Jake." He gives off a hint as his amusement with each word he speaks, "I’m capturing the Mighty Toruk Makto in his natural form. Which is adorable." He winks.

"Uh-huh." Jake replies; contrasting his friend, he remains unamused. "Kiss the dark side of my blue–" Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Mo'at. Shit, Mo'at. She knew English and he needed to talk to her.

"You are a lucky man, Norm." Jake turns on his heels, leaving Norm behind as he heads towards the Tsahìk.

When he does so, though, Kiri turns her head as much as she can to stare at the human scientist curiously. Norm takes the opportunity.

Click.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Lo'ak and Kiri were, relative to their brother, the same age. They also looked the most like each other, excluding their father. They both had the characteristic traits of an avatar, traits that set them apart from the rest of the clan. Because of this, you thought they'd be inseparable, best friends. Instead, they fought, and fought, and fought.

It was weird, even, that Kiri often sought out her older brother's company over her baby brother's.

These peculiarities' origins, however, were solved when you realized the common point of these arguments. Lo'ak. Lo'ak was a troublesome kid in that he loved freedom, and even more, loved to be possessive.

Within seven years, many things were taught. Jake, for one, learned much of the Na'vi language. In fact, it was practically English to him. Sometimes he forgot what language he began the sentence with, and he would end up starting with Na'vi and ending with English or mixing in a couple words in the middle.

As far as the kids were concerned, it was gibberish. At least, for a couple years. After they dominated the Na'vi language well enough, they began to learn English. Their main teacher was their father, not their sempu, so when things like this happened...

"I hate you times infinity, Lo'ak! Penis face!"

It was his fault.

After the kids' argument was swiftly dealt with (the toy had to be threatened to be cut in half, and then they stopped), Jake places the toy in Kiri's hands. "Kid, go find your brother." He sighs, "You can play with him."

"I don't wanna play with him." Lo'ak crosses his arms, stomping his foot. "He's a sucker."

"Hey, now, that's not a good thing to say about your brother." Jake presses a harsh finger against his son's shoulder. "What would Neteyam think?"

"It's true! And he needs to know it!"

"If your sempu was here, you'd be–"

"Sempu's here." You call. The kids didn't really realize you heard the beginning of what Jake was going to say. Instead, they run to hug you. Kiri drops the much beloved toy they so desperately wanted earlier, in favor of wrapping her arms around your waist.

You scoop each of them up, each held by one strong arm. Even so, knowing that the position is weak, they steady themselves by wrapping their small limbs as far around you as they can. "Now, what was it that you needed me for?"

"Nothing, sempu." Kiri shakes her head, pressing her head against your shoulder. "Just a little dispute."

"Yes. A dispute." Lo'ak agrees with the wide nod of his head, though he pronounces the word much worse than Kiri does. Seems he slacked off on their latest English lessons and somehow ignored the word "penis" that Kiri vividly recalls.

"Ooh, dispute? Where'd you learn that big word, huh?" You coo, rubbing your nose into her hair. She laughs at the feeling, it's almost ticklish.

"Dad." She replies simply.

"Yeah, well, they also managed to learn the word "penis" from me." While you gawk dramatically at your children, Jake sticks his tongue out at them just as childishly. Little suck ups. He mouths.

Lo'ak sticks his tongue back out at his own father, to which you slap him gently on the hip. "What situation requires that," You think of a suitably negative word , uglily scrunching up your nose so that the children can have something to laugh at. "despicable word?"

"Lo'ak," Kiri is quick to tell, "was trying to steal my toy!"

"No I wasn't!" Lo'ak huffs. If he were on the ground, he'd have stumped his feet. Instead, they kick the air.

"Yes you were!" She retorts.

"Which one, the one so sadly on the floor?"

At the mention of its position, they both turn their gazes towards it. Kiri dares to mutter a little "uh-oh" as her eyes find it. Whilst they are distracted by the dread building up in their bodies, you look to Jake. Go find Neteyam. I'll deal with these two.

Silently, he nods, and slips away while the children begin to make up excuses. As he walks down the river bank, he hears a shout from the house. "You're a big fat liar!"

If memory served right, Neteyam wanted to visit Neytiri. Out of all of their kids, he took to her the most.

A part of him, at the back of his mind, wonders how all his children will react once they learn who their mother is.

He doesn't indulge in the thought. Instead, he focuses on the task ahead. The path from his home to Neytiri's was one he memorized, and he made sure when he built his home that it wouldn't be a long distance.

He doesn't expect to find the two of them, Neteyam and Neytiri, outside of the house. Neither does he expect his son to be so vigorously training even after training hours.

"That's it. Remember your stance." Neytiri advises Neteyam, patting his shoulder. "You're doing great."

"Hey!" Jake greets the two. The sudden call surprises Neteyam, which makes his shot fly off to the side.

The boy frowns, but his lips soon lift as he turns to greet his father. "Hi dad."

"Hello, my son." He nods. His smile turns a little more stern as he turns to Neytiri. "Hello, auntie Tiri. What's going on?"

Neytiri opens her mouth to speak, but Neteyam taps her thigh and mouths a little something. It's not hard to read his lips, nor had he tried to hid it so hard, but Jake looks away out of respect.

Auntie Tiri nods and looks back up to Jake, "I figured he needed some practice."

"He practiced this morning."

"I know." She raises one hand up in surrender, "Practice makes perfect." She ruffles Neteyam's hair. Though coming from his dad it was annoying, it is apparently endearing coming from his aunt. "Could I talk to you in the house?"

"Of course."

She hardly waits for him to reply before she pats Neteyam on the head again and says, "I'll be right back, keep practicing."

Neteyam nods excitedly. However, Jake stops him. "No, put that down." It dampens his son's spirits, but he nods. Both of them know that something could go wrong if Neteyam practices unsupervised.

Neytiri rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest. Instead, she heads inside, Jake close behind.

"What is it that–"

"Your son, our kid, " She begins with firmness. "he came to me asking me to help him improve."

"What? He's only seven." Jake reasons, "Why would he?"

"He's your oldest." She replies simply. "Your heir, the next Olo'eyktan. There's a lot of pressure that comes with that." She spoke with experience. Between you, him, and her, she had so much more experience. He wonders sometimes how they've come to this arrangement, if she could be a better mom than he, a dad.

"Yeah… I know. But I don't give him any pressure. I make sure of it." Does he really? Are each of his words premeditated, thought out?

"He's only a year older than Lo'ak and Kiri, but he already has it ingrained in him that he has to protect them." Neytiri crosses her arms, giving him a pointed look, "Like you said, he's seven. He still deserves to be hugged and kissed."

"I try to."

"You try to?"

"It's hard when, you know…" He sighs, "your parents coddled your brother more than you."

She purses her lips, thinks it over. "I may not know about you and your brother," She begins on a lighter note. "but I know that you can relate your experiences with him with our children, your sons. At least you know what not to do. Just make sure they know you love them, and that they are still children that should play, while you still can."

"Yeah." He nods, "I will."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The children played with each other, for once not beckoning their parents into play or sparking arguments between each other.

So for the first time in a long time, you had some moments of peace.

"He reminds me a lot of Neytiri, Neteyam." You spoke in a hushed voice, wary of their young ears.

"How so?" Jake squeezes your shoulder, his arm wrapped around it.

"His smile. It's a lot like hers. Toothy, isn't it?" He was smiling right now. Though it didn't compare to some of his biggest moments of joy, his smile still displayed his growing teeth. It was adorable.

He only has to think of it for a moment before agreeing, "Yeah."

"He's good with his bow. Don't doubt that he'll make a great hunter one day. And his love for Ikran..." Your face lights up at the memories, "even though he doesn't have one."

"About that, love..." Jake begins solemnly.

You turn to him, away from your playing children, at his serious tone. "What is it?"

"Neteyam," He glances over at the boy. Thankfully, he hadn't heard him speak his name. He lowers his voice and continues, "Neytiri told me he's been trying to get better at using a bow."

"Hm, well, he's probably trying to impress us."

"And that he wanted to protect his siblings. He feels," He purses his lips, "like its his responsibility. It's what he worries about."

"Does he?" You huff, "He has asked a lot lately, about the dangers of the jungle. I thought he just wanted to look out for himself, but now that I think about it..."

"He wanted to know so that he could keep his siblings safe." Jake finishes for you.

"Hey, I wanted to play with it!"

"I had it first!"

Before either of you can act, Neteyam stands first. He gives you only the smallest of glances before pushing his siblings away from each other.

"What? Hey!" Lo'ak shouts.

"Go away, Neteyam!" Kiri struggles against her brother's hold.

At his sudden interference, the toy falls to the ground. Neteyam kicks it to his feet. "Stop fighting!" He hisses at the both of them, making them falter. "It's either one or the other. Got that? You can take turns."

"Me first!" The children scream simultaneously, Kiri finishes her sentence first by a millisecond.

"Ugh." Lo'ak groans, but he begrudgingly kicks the toy in her direction. "Fine, you can have it first. But you get ten minutes!"

Kiri grins, picking up the toy, "That's good enough."

With the argument over, Neteyam smiles. He turns back towards his own toy, but not before sparing a not so subtle glance in your direction. Seeing your encouraging smiles, his own grows larger.

"He didn't need to do that."

Jake nods, "But he did, anyway."

"You're right." You shake your head with a sigh, "We should wait for the right moment to tell him."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

That moment doesn't take long.

Lo'ak had grown restless at home, and even more at the village, so he proposed one thing: to let him and his siblings explore the jungle. It wasn't a surprising proposal, you'd allowed them to do so many times before. Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak often explored the jungle; so, you allowed it without a thought.

The jungle was a beautiful place, one you were proud to call home, so you were happy that your children were falling in love with it too.

However, as curfew grows closer and your children do not return yet, your worry begins to grow.

The children had shown time and time again that they knew curfew, knew the way home, knew to come back safely. You trusted them to come back.

Your rapidly growing concern and restlessness burst, and you must find them yourself. As much as Jake had reassured you, as much as you wanted to trust them, something was clearly wrong. You had to find them.

As you mount your ikran, though, they emerge from the tree line.

Neteyam and Lo'ak prop Kiri up, helping her walk. They've got her arms around their shoulders. Together, the three of them, they're mismatched. Lo'ak wishes to run, Neteyam doesn't want to injure Kiri further, and she is weak.

You're quick to whisk Kiri up and bring her inside, whilst Jake grabs a hold of his sons and brings them in too.

You place Kiri down on your hammock, "Where does it hurt?"

"My side." She yells back, her eyes spilling fresh tears. She was scratched up everywhere, from her arms to her knees, but the most concerning gash was on her side. It was a long cut, spanning from her belly button to her chest.

"I got you, baby girl." You assure.

While you rush to patch up Kiri, Jake squats in front of his sons and questions them. "What happened?"

Neither boy wishes to speak, but between the two of them, the culprit is clear. Still, he knows that he has to wait for them to speak up. If Neteyam speaks first, Jake will know what the boy has burdened himself with. If Lo'ak speaks, he will know that the boy has the responsibility to admit his own faults.

Regardless, because none of them speak, Kiri does. She clearly wished to have the culprit, which inadvertently caused her injuries, be punished. "Lo'ak led us to a forbidden area!"

"No I didn't!" Lo'ak bites back.

"Yeah, I did." Neteyam steps forward and puts an arm in front of his brother in order to shield him from his father's impending scolding. "I convinced them it wasn't such a dangerous place."

There it was. Neteyam taking the blame. He took protecting his siblings so far, that he was willing to take the blame and the punishment for what Lo'ak did. Jake hated it, hated that he reminded him of his brother so much.

"Neteyam, you and I both know you know the dangers the most." Jake points a finger at him, "So step back."

The boy follows his instructions, but for once, not obediently. He looks down at the ground and backs off with a subtle scoff.

"Oh, so now you decide he's not to be believed?!" Lo'ak huffs, crossing his arms. "I didn't–"

"You did." Jake interrupts him, "And I need you to admit it."

"Fine!" Lo'ak shouts, "I did it! But I didn't think it would be so dangerous."

"I know that, son." Jake says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Lo'ak tries to shake it off, but he ultimately fails to do so. He settles on ignoring its heavy presence. "But you're still responsible for the consequences."

"I didn't mean for Kiri to get hurt." The boy mumbles.

"Tell that to her."

"I'm sorry, Kiri." He mumbles that too, but Kiri hears it anyway.

Though she rolls her eyes, something Lo'ak can't see because you cover her body with your own as you work away, and accepts the apology, "Fine." She hisses slightly, which Lo'ak mistakes as directed to him. The sound makes him falter.

"The two of you, listen to me." Jake places his other hand on Neteyam's shoulder, pulling the brothers close to each other.

"You should listen too." You tell Kiri. She nods.

"You should all to take care of each other, equally. That means protecting each other. Not just you, Lo'ak; not just you, Kiri," He nods in each of his kids' directions, "not just you, Neteyam. You got that?"

Neteyam nods immediately, while Lo'ak nods with a scowl and eyebrows knitted. He was displeased to be asked to act just like his stuck up brother.

"Hey." Jake shakes his son not so gently to make sure he is paying attention. "Lo'ak, I need you to protect your siblings. Because, in this world, it's not just you. It's all of us, it's this family. Your brother, your sister, they need taking care of. And if we're not there, who will do that? You. You have to."

"It's not an "if he can't do it, then I have to"." You cut in to add, "It's not a toy to be passed around. It is something you should all be doing, all the time."

"Today was just an example. Tomorrow," He gestures to the side with the nod of his head, "if things do not change, worse things can happen."

"Okay." Lo'ak nods. Though the solemn look on his face is new and different, it meant he was taking it seriously.

Jake nods too, "Good. Neteyam," Knowing that the boy will be much more affected by his words, Jake keeps it simple. "that means it's not all up to you. Don't take the fall for things you didn't cause."

"Okay." Neteyam agrees too.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Auntie Tiri loved to visit the kids. Though she knew she wasn't their mother in the family sense, she still thought of them as her own children. You weren't one to complain, much as you teased her, because it meant you and Jake could have some time of your own.

"Second time this week?" You laugh, greeting Neytiri at the entrance. "It's only just beginning, too."

"If I birthed them, I at least get to raise them." Neytiri argues. The words don't make much sense to the children, thankfully, or else you would have a lot of explaining you weren't quite ready for.

You roll your eyes and let her in. As she passes you, you walk outside. Behind you, you hear screams of delight as the children see Neytiri.

After Jake says his temporary goodbye's, he follows you outside.

He lets out a sigh of relief as the even fresher air of the outside washes over his face. "It's been a while since we got to be alone, right?"

"Just two days, my love." You remind him. "Neytiri visited two days ago."

"Hmm," He snickers, "right."

He lets out a yawn, stretches his limbs far up into the sky. As he brings them down, though, one arm not so subtly wraps around your waist. Even less subtly, it pulls you close to his side. "Wanna go for a walk?" He offers nonchalantly.

You chuckle, placing a hand a on the one he's got around you. "Sure."

The benefit of being alone with each other often was that your children were not responsibility for the tiniest of moments. It also meant you didn't have to speak of them.

But usually, as your children are the light of your life, most things end up being about them.

"Your hair's starting to dread up, love." You remark, wrapping the end of one of his locks around your finger. It was just a little strand, but the hair above clumps together.

"Ah, well, I don't have the time." He sighs, "Between Olo'eyktan duties, giving advice to folk, taking care of the kids..."

"I could braid it for you." You offer.

"I heard that takes a long time." He says, but he's done more than hear it. He's witnessed it, seen your children slouched over themselves, falling asleep whilst your fingers still nimbly worked on their braids. "Don't know if I've got enough."

"Well, we can keep it dreaded." You shrug, "Whatever you like."

"What do you like?" He retorts.

You roll your eyes. "Whatever you like to wear will be what I love, Jake."

"That's an awfully sweet," He begins slowly, coaxing a soft smile out of your lips. "lie. Too uncharacteristic of you, my darling."

You laugh. The sound is... young. It sounds young. You've known each other for seven years now, been parents for most of that time, and you've matured so much since the first time he laid eyes on you. Those laughs, ones without the worry of your children or responsibilities, had seemed forgotten. He's glad it's still there.

The conversation falters and you fall to comfortable silence; but something picks at Jake, at the back of his mind.

"Is there..." He pauses, not too sure if he really wants to mention it. He's already started, though, and he does feel as though it is something that should be talked about. "anyone Lo'ak reminds you of?"

"Lo'ak..." You hum as you think, "well, Lo'ak is his own person. He's a special kid. There's no one quite similar to him. Why do you ask?"

"He reminds me of myself. My younger self." Jake says. It was the original thing he wanted to say.

"Oh."

"Reckless, quick to jump into a fight, defensive, couldn't take the blame... I couldn't take anything seriously." He lists off things, each one putting a dampener on his mood. "A child in a man's body."

His lowering spirits were affecting yours, so you stop your walk to make sure your next words are registered fully. You take his hands in yours and begin, "Some of those things aren't always bad. Defensiveness means, well, you're protective of your loved ones. And not taking things so seriously... you can always make me happy. You can lighten any situation. As for the recklessness, well, it was always funny when you failed at some Na'vi things."

"Hey!"

"What I'm trying to say is, you're still defensive, you're still humorous in harsh situations. These are both things of your younger self and the self that stands before me." You bring a hand to his cheek and he nuzzles against it. "They are part of who you are; and those same things, they're part of who Lo'ak is. If we tried to change them, Lo'ak wouldn't be himself. All of those traits are bad at varying degrees. If we teach him correctly, he can still be himself. Less reckless, more serious, but still himself."

Much as an annoying rascal he was now, it was the Lo'ak Jake still loved, has loved for seven years. He couldn't imagine his son any other way.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Everyone loved Neteyam. It was hard not to.

Lo'ak and Kiri, on the other hand, often received many stares. It was harder for them to make friends outside of the family; harder to avoid the comments about their fingers and eyebrows. Though Lo'ak had a penchant for an argument (which had lessened ever since you began parenting him better) this was where he and Kiri agreed.

When Neteyam played with his friends, Lo'ak and Kiri often stuck together. Their differences and toy-sharing difficulties were pushed aside.

Neteyam often tried to coerce his friends to play with Kiri and Lo'ak, they were only a year younger after all, but it usually devolved into asking them why they had such funny fingers.

Jake and you often noticed it. You saw your children's awkward, uncomfortable faces. But you knew things would only be worse if you interfered. Children were often like that, picking at the little things. Just kissing your children would earn them the nickname of "sempuyä 'evi". Besides, they needed to be independent.

It was a matter that sparked concern between you.

"I was right about their differences." Jake grumbles. He subtly observed his children from above, at a high point in the village. Less people were going to spot his vigilant dad behavior up there.

"They'll make friends eventually, find people who don't care." You reassured him, but you spoke it into the world because you were really wishing for it to happen.

"Like you?" He muses.

"If you want a comparison point." You let out a little laugh.

Jake wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. Just then, a little someone breaks through the crowd of nosy kids and sticks their hand out.

Rather than judging your children or pointing out their differences, they exclaim "Wow that's so cool!" so loudly that you can hear it from up there. It warms your heart.

Lo'ak eventually found friends that actually deserved him. Kiri, on the other hand, well, the friends found her. Unfortunately, it was after that that she discovered she actually preferred alone time better than having so many people around her, disturbing her thoughts with constant chatter. So, she didn't often talk with her friends. The only thorn on her side, though, was the human kid, Spider. She tolerated his presence often. She actually even seemed to like his voice.

But while they had gotten over that problem, Jake was still worried.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Your children had yet again become a year older. In the past year, you'd taught them all so many things. You made sure Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Kiri were all protective over each other equally; that Lo'ak learned how to control his recklessness and maintain his humorous attitude; that Kiri felt connected to Eywa.

You knew that, when you allowed them to be on their own, they would be just fine.

After seven years of taking care of your children so actively, you no longer had to worry so much. It was sort of a relief.

Naturally, though, you sort of missed it.

"I want another kid."

"What?"

"Another girl would be nice." You hum to yourself, "She'd be the cutest little thing."

Once the initial shock wears off (because you don't just mention that out of nowhere) Jake finds himself agreeing. He, too, missed coddling his children. "Yeah, she would."

"Did you ever get a copy of the picture Norm took of you?"

"Of course not." Jake grumbles. "It's embarrassing."

"Only because you make it." You snicker, booping him on the nose. He responds by scrunching it up and flinching back. "I think it's rather cute."

"I only think Kiri was cute." He wipes his nose. "We can talk to Neytiri and–"

"I want her to be yours."

"What? But–" Jake shakes his head profusely, his eyebrows knitted together. "I can't have another kid turn out like... like me."

"Five fingers and eyebrows?" You ask.

"Yes." He replies immediately. "I can't have her be... different. Lo'ak and Kiri, they struggled to make friends because of their differences."

"You know that Lo'ak made his own friends."

"It took time." He argues, "Don't you remember his face, every time he came back home? It was horrible. In fact, he asked you to pull him onto your lap and kiss his cheeks over and over just for reassurance. Which–"

"Which he asked for because he loves me, not because it's uncharacteristic of him." You say, implying that Lo'ak loves you more.

Jake rolls his eyes. "I don't want to see another kid go through that again. I just want another normal kid that'll make friends flawlessly."

"There's nothing wrong with being special." You take his hands in yours. His hand was only bigger because of his extra finger, which wraps around your hand. You bring it up to show him, "Nothing better with being normal."

"Why... why can't you do it, then?"

"Because," You begin, smile lighting up your face. "even you still haven't gotten over your differences." Jake looks away. His silence to the accusation is as much of an answer as affirmation is. "This child will be proof that your differences don't make you any worse than a regular Na'vi. Because you are on of the people. You are the Olo'eyktan. You are one of us."

"How do you know?" He grumbles, but he was starting to believe you. "Did Eywa tell you, or something?"

☾⋆☆⋆☽

With Tuktirey, you couldn't be any happier.

And she came out, as promised, with four fingers and hairless browbones.

She was a pudgy little thing, and everyone loved her. You could see it in their eyes and their smiles that the kids loved her at first sight. Their toothy grins would grow even wider when they each got to carry her; even if Lo'ak nearly dropped her.

Though she couldn't even speak and hardly babbled, you could tell that you would come to love her.

You held Tuk in your hands, laying your head over Neteyam's legs. He made for a bony pillow, but you loved him so much you could get over it. Jake hugged Lo'ak with one arm. Kiri was sprawled horizontally over the both of you, her head laying on your stomach. Your muntxatan nuzzled his nose into your neck as he spoke, "I met your sempu while I was training."

"He fell from the tree branches onto the mud at my feet." You explain less graciously, causing an uproar of laughs from each of your children.

"Ah-ah," Jake breaks up the mocking laughter, "you say it's like Eywa sent me to you, no?"

"Okay, fine, I guess." You roll your eyes playfully.

Jake laughs. You can feel the deep rumble of vibrations going through his neck against your shoulder. "It was love at first sight."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ 2: it's a cute prompt, of course, could fulfill it with headcanons, however I wanted some Lo'ak and Neteyam struggle + scared father Jake - one of these scenes (if you saw it, you know the scene) was made using the dialogue of this incredibly fucking cute fanart. It's just Lo'ak instead of Neteyam here. - I made Jake a better father because his kids deserve better

#avatar x reader #avatar x male reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x male reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x male reader #kiri x reader #kiri x male reader #tsireya x reader #tsireya x male reader #tuk x reader #tuk x male reader #<- platonic #jake sully x reader #jake sully x male reader #neytiri x reader #neytiri x male reader #🌸 // success! #🌂 // failure #🎟 // avatar #🎫 // neteyam #🎫 // kiri #🎫 // lo'ak #🎫 // tuk #🎫 // jake sully #🎫 // jake #🎫 // neytiri #🎫 // tsireya

[kit-williams]

Husbandry Angron part 2

Part 2 to this fic

For @egrets-not-regrets for helping me here is your reward for helpin me.

@liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Thank you @squishyowl for the dividers

Dozens of apothecaries and human brain surgeons were there in the large surgery room in the base, curtesy of the Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists making it in such a short amount of time. Waiting in the wings were flesh crafter sorcerers as there was little chance for failure as this was a primarch. They had to try their best as they were going in blind.

With his skull cap removed they could see the mess... "Jesus Christ." A surgeon said looking at the mess... a mess of wires and brain matter barely holding together.

"Um, is... is his skull cap growing back?" Another human said noticing how the bone was slowly stitching itself back together and regrowing.

"Yes it is." the head apothecarian said walking up and taking a look as he was in full armor, "Get the flesh crafters on standby." The chaos space marine ordered as why he was head surgeon? He had worked with the consortium.

The humans were the ones who were mostly going to be working on the primarch given their small deft hands could be delicate in this situation. Hours dragged on and metal was removed leaving gaping holes in his brain to which the sorcerers and his own natural healing factor worked hard to repair. This meticulous surgery pushed the limits of what was thought possible for both humans and Astartes... they were dealing with a Primarch and whatever genetic monstrosity it meant to be a primarch curtosey of the Emperor. Several powerful sorcerers sat around the building all pooling the warp and keeping it stable so that the flesh crafters could utilize it with ease.

Apothecarians all communicated on the private vox channel when the humans would pause having to remove the regrowing skull cap or when they were stumped on how to remove a particularly tricky nail. Oh there was one from each legion, minus the World Eaters, sometimes there were even two from the same legion; one a traitor and the other a loyalist. But, outside the building were gathering war hounds and world eaters... they gathered like lost dogs just limping their way here... all there and all silently hoping...

Angron opened his eyes as he could hear the gentle click of knitting needles and a calm beat of a heart he knew over the white noise that the dozens of medical machines had become. He sat up looking toward the click of the needles...

"Welcome back." Your soft voice greeted his ears as there was a gentle smile on your lip, "It's been a few days and in that time, let me tell you, I've met more space marines than I've ever seen." You say as you put down your project. You wait a couple of beats and your smile falters as Angron continues to sit there, "They..." He could hear your swallow, "They said there might be..." again you swallow doing your best to stay strong, "unknown side effects." You finally walk closer, looking up at him as your tiny hand rests on his, "Angron?" You say softly.

For Angron... he was overwhelmed by the fact that there was no longer any pain... his mind rushing trying to think of how to react and interact when there was no pain at the base of it all. He picked you up and held you close, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, as large tears rushed down his face. Words... oh so many of his brothers were good with words in any occasion by here words would do him little good. As Angron wept in joy... joy... he could finally feel another emotion again without pain after so long.

The devourer of worlds... the warlords of madness and bloodshed... so many of them subjected themselves to the nails but now... so many of them came to get them removed. Feral Astartes came to get them out. As once more they came to him like a dog to follow their father. A legion of beaten dogs they were... but they were dogs who could still wag their tails.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #Angron #warhammer 30k #a gift #angron fix it fic #fix it fic #tales from the barn

[hesthermay]

𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒

PAIRING: obi-wan kenobi x gn!reader

SUMMARY: @celestialwrites secret dating prompt list; dancing alone in empty rooms.

WORD COUNT: 614

RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences. fluff. no y/n.

NOTES: its been awhile since i've written anything, so take this blurb with gracious hands

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

The sun was setting. 

You were not supposed to be in the Temple any longer, yet you were. It had been hard to find the exit after your responsibilities had been fulfilled, for Obi-Wan Kenobi was far more convincing than he should be. With something as simple as a smile, a wink, and warm hands grasping yours you were redirected to a different part of the building, your original plans being thrown aside as your feet moved despite your mental protests. 

They were not convincing enough. There was no label on what you and the Jedi Master had, but it was special nonetheless. Surely forbidden for a man living by the Order, but it had to have been worth it for him to risk what he has. That thought always made your heart flutter. 

Oh yes, this would be frowned upon. You felt far too much for the warrior of peace for it to be deemed acceptable.

“And what is your plan if someone catches you sneaking me off into the depths of this Temple, hmm?” you whisper to him, bumping your body into his as you take another turn. 

“Oh trust me, darling, I have a plan for everything,” he whispered back, voice smooth as he smirked at you. Cheeks reddening, you felt warm. 

Finally, you seemed to reach the room he was searching for, and upon entering you were met with high columns and open windows. Orange sunlight streaming in, painting everything in a deep glow. Obi-Wan’s footsteps were silent as he walked into the open space, but you did not possess all the grace he came with; your boots clacked on the marble flooring as you followed, softly echoing throughout the large expanse. 

“Care to dance?” 

The question broke your train of thought, causing you to turn your head to see him standing in the middle. He was angelic, really, washed in warmth and looking like a man in love. You did not often let yourself think that of him, but it was hard to deny it when he was looking at you as if you were the one who hung the sun and moon every rotation, hand held out to you as his words hung in the air. 

There was no label on whatever it was that you both had, whatever connection it was that bound you two together and had you always coming back for more. But perhaps, just maybe, that label could be love. Could be something more. 

You had somewhere to be, things to do and a home to return to, your absence would surely be noted; but it did not matter when Obi-Wan Kenobi was asking you to dance in an empty room during a Coruscant sunset. It did not matter when he made you feel like there was hope in this galaxy and you were wholeheartedly and unashamedly in love with him.

Obi-Wan had somewhere to be, responsibilities to tend to and an oath to live by, his actions would surely break that oath; but it did not matter when you looked so beautiful in the lowlight of the ending day. It did not matter when you made him feel like he was alive and he was unabashedly and completely in love with you. 

And so your hand ended up in his, and he pulled you closer. Your chests touched as he wrapped an arm around your waist and you wondered if he could feel your heart skip a beat. You danced slowly to nonexistent music, moving around the room and getting lost in whatever it was you both had. No label, no words, just love and one another; dancing alone in an empty room.

all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my work as your own.

#the witch: writes #—star wars #—signed; kenobi #obi wan star wars #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi #obi wan imagine #obi wan blurb #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan x you #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan imagine #star wars imagine #star wars blurb #the clone wars #tcw x reader

[tackytigerfic]

WIP Snip Saturday

Hello friends. Life is crazy atm but trying to work away on my writing as much as i can. This is a snip from my eternal work-in-progress, a wartime AU in which Harry didn't defeat Voldemort and there's a war still going on seven years after the Battle. In this bit, Harry and Draco have discovered a sort of time-travel device that allows them to move between other universes. Harry is just back from another world, fallen fast asleep, and is now waking up. Unedited. Does anyone else want to share a snip? I feel like I've lost track of so much over the last few weeks, and I miss fandom.

The bed was very comfortable, and the light was dim, and Harry wanted to die.

“I want to die,” he announced, just to underline the fact, but the effect was ruined by his voice cracking down the middle and causing a coughing fit.

From beside the bed, Malfoy made a quiet amused noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, and primly poured a glass of water from a large bulbous sweating jug that sat on the bedside cabinet. The second Harry saw it, he felt desperately thirsty all of a sudden, and the desire to drink was so strong that he heaved himself up in the bed so he could grasp the glass and gulp it down, then a second, and some of a third, before he—gasping—set the glass down again.

“Shall I crack on and order the coffin, or do you think you’ll last the night?” Malfoy enquired. “Only I had thought of popping down to the kitchen and making a cheese toastie, and if you’re not about to expire imminently, I could knock one up for you too.”

“Don’t tease me,” Harry said. “Because I truly believe that only a cheese toastie could bring me back from the brink.”

“Can you walk?” Malfoy asked briskly. “Only, it’s been a few hours now, and I know it’s a big house but you’re Harry Potter, you know, and people will be keeping an eye out for you. And—” Malfoy looked down at his little notebook, which was full of sprawling scribbles and, at one margin, a doodle of what looked to Harry to be his own head in sleeping side profile, his mouth slack with sleep, which was really quite rude when he thought about it “—if you end up spending the whole evening in my room, people might notice.” He coughed delicately, and Harry couldn’t see his face properly, but there was a creeping flush of pink up the back of his bowed neck, and all of a sudden Harry realised what he was suggesting people would think.

“I didn’t think— I mean, we would never…”

Harry trailed off as Malfoy, still blushing, looked up and met his eyes. “Yes, yes, alright.” He sounded cool and distant, like he was already half out of the room. “No need to be quite so emphatic about it. You know that, and I know that, but who’s to tell what fervid imaginings people can get up to? Especially when it comes to a celebrity.”

Harry hadn’t realised just how much Malfoy had warmed up to him, until the warmth was suddenly gone.

“Furthermore,” Malfoy went on, giving Harry a damning look of appraisal that had him bristling, “you do look a bit fucked out at the moment, if you don’t mind me saying. You might want to fix yourself up before we go wandering the corridors together, just in case we somehow give people the wrong idea. Feel free to use my bathroom. I’ll just get on with my work while I wait.”

Harry was distinctly wobbly, but by the time he heaved himself out of the bed—Malfoy’s bed, he thought grimly—and tottered into the bathroom, he had started to feel a bit more like himself. Outside, he could hear the scratching repetitive sound of Malfoy writing at his desk.

“So, why exactly do I feel so terrible?” Harry called through the door before braving a look in the mirror. He did look a bit fucked out, he supposed, if people’s minds were to run that way. His hair was a disaster, like he had been thoroughly tossing his head around on a pillow, and fingercombing could only do so much. Worse still was the look of heat he still had about him, a gentle glow of sweat and exertion that gave him a softened exhausted look, which coupled with his heavy eyes and the creasemarks from the bedsheets on his cheek… well, he wasn’t about to test people’s appetites for speculation, he thought.

Malfoy was talking now, though Harry couldn’t quite hear him through the door, so he cracked it a little before he ran the tap.

“You haven’t passed out in there?” Malfoy’s voice sounded closer all of a sudden, like he was talking through the gap in the door. “I shan’t have to perform CPR, shall I? I don’t think I even know any CPR.”

“No, I’m surviving,” Harry reassured him, still clutching onto the edge of the sink. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was just saying that you feel so dreadful because of the strain on your magical core. It’s the travel part, it takes an enormous amount of magical energy. You’re working against the laws of physics on a massive scale. It gets easier the longer you spend on the other side.”

“So weird,” Harry muttered to himself, then bent down to splash his face, patting the heat and sleep-puffiness away.

“Yeah, I don’t get it myself, really,” Malfoy said, sounding like he was getting into his stride. “My father was good on the logistics but I’m not sure that he considered the wider implications of—” and he was off, his voice a comforting background noise as Harry splashed around in the sink, and prodded helplessly at his hair for a bit, and brushed his teeth, and had a piss. All the while, Malfoy was talking about modal logic and planes of existence and core exhaustion as though Harry would possibly understand, or even be interested, but at least Malfoy was talking himself back into good humour. By the time Harry was looking fresher and less like he’d just rolled out of Malfoy’s bed, Malfoy was sufficiently cheered up enough to distract with talk of cheese as they padded down the corridor to the kitchens, and when Malfoy had shovelled the crisp dripping slices of sandwich onto two plates, hot and buttery and frilled at the edges with crisp lacy cheese, and Harry had located the relish and a jug of cider, even Malfoy was hungry enough to shut up and just eat.

Would love to read what everyone's working on, pls tag me. Also tagging a few people who i think are writing atm - @floydig @thehoneybeet @maesterchill @oknowkiss @shealwaysreads @skeptiquewrites @the-starryknight @stationintern @sweet-s0rr0w @wolfpants and anyone else, if you fancy it?

#drarry #tacky's fth #drarry fic

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of attempted sexual assault, death, child death, certain amounts of grief, mentions of incestual marriages (It's ancient Egypt, y'all c'mon) canon divergence/merging

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Hah! Betcha I had y'all convinced it was Khonshu creeping through the window, didn't I? :D But also yeah, there's gonna be some inaccuracies here and there while I merge the show and comics (hello, it's fanfiction, duh) Also we get more backstory on Jezebel! Also idk why but this chapter feels off to me, maybe I'll be able to comprehend better (and possibly make edits) once I've had some sleep!

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 5:

Pomegranates

"And you're positive it's her?"

Jezebel gripped at the inside of her wrist, knuckles white. She swore she could feel the scales burning her palm.

"I know it's her. It has to be." She affirms.

Zephyr croaked from his perch nearby at the man who stood in a darkened corner of the room.

His hands clasped behind his back, his stark white suit stood out from the rest of him (save for the bots of golden button-up that peaked from beneath his collar). A cleanly shaven head, tanned skin and dark, piercing eyes fixing Jezebel with an intense glare from behind his glasses.

"Jezebel, there is no such thing, really, as knowing, and at the same time thinking something has to be what you want it to be."

"Yehya..." She hissed through her teeth, pressing her fingertips to her temple.

"I don't... I can't explain it to you. You don't understand. I know it's her. I don't know how I do, but... I just do. Trust me, okay?" She looked up at him, her brows softly pinched in a plea.

"I would never do anything to cause Him harm. If I ever did I would sooner kill myself. This could... This could lift Him up, Yehya..." She said to him.

"If it wasn't for your intervention, as well as Khonshu's... I would be dead like almost all of Ammit's blind followers. I would rather my heart serve the Moon, than serve the Soul-Eater."

"Well, Jake Lockley saw to that loose end being tied." Yehya Badr sighed, his posture slumping somewhat as he paced.

He looked at the small golden idol depicting Khonshu, the moon disc proudly displayed upon his head, and his gaze softened.

"Yes, He seems rather keen on utilizing Jake, lately. Whether or not Marc knows about him I cannot say, yet. I must admit, I missed Khonshu's voice whilst he was away, dealing with Spector's insistence on letting his alter, Steven Grant live a "normal" life..." His fingers brushed the base of the statue.

"I just wish he came to me for help. One Fist isn't enough to defend the world."

"It is a war on more than one front. Two Fists means He has more than one weapon to defend the innocent in different places." Jezebel said, sipping her spicy tea.

"Perhaps Khonshu kept you here to carry out his will in his absence? He trusts you enough, believes in your abilities enough that he doesn't need to hang over your shoulders like he does with that Spector fellow and his... brothers."

"Maybe you're right." Yehya said, tilting his head as her turned to look at her again.

"But we're getting off track." He moved to sit in the chair across from her, gingerly holding the teacup in his large hand as he sipped silently.

"You've seen her?" Jezebel asked, quirking a brow.

"Yes. And frankly, she looks like death. She looks like she isn't sleeping, or eating. I'm honestly curious as to when was the last time she saw a doctor."

"There's a reason for that." Jezebel set her cup on the small plate with a clink.

"And that is..." He asked, raising an eyebrow in return.

"She came to me almost a week ago, now. She's been having what she assumed were dreams, but from the little context she's been able to disclose they sound like... visions."

"And these dreams only happened after..."

"She's had them her whole life. They've gotten more intense, more disturbing to her after I gave her the statue and told her to pray to Khonshu for protection."

She reached out to the crystal ball in the middle of the table and waved her hand over it. Briefly, an image of the moon swirled in its depths, before vanishing.

She showed him the conversation she'd had with you, the things you said happened, what you dreamt and what happened to the man who tried to rape you.

Yehya's brow furrowed deeply as he listened, absorbing every detail before the images in the crystal vanished.

"...That does sound concerning. You... Do you think Khonshu himself saved her? Directly?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Jezebel sighed. "She can't ascertain any details of her dreams for me to build more, and well... Given that it has been so long, perhaps she has access to magic, like I do. It can explain some of the things she dreams, her "feeling" as she describes it... Things change, though that body isn't the original, who is to say she doesn't have a gift for magic in this life?"

"You're a mystic. A priestess. This woman... She cleans offices." He said skeptically, leaning back in the chair.

"Merit was simply the cousin of a wealthy man." Jezebel said, her gaze narrowing sharply. "She was a scholar, a scribe. That isn't much higher than a cleaner, these days."

"...A scribe with the ear and arm of a god." He murmured.

He met her gaze with his own.

"But you don't know for certain."

"It... It might not be Merit. It could be someone else, but I just..." Jezebel ran a hand through her hair.

"I feel it, Yehya. Inside me. I feel a connection to her, and it's one I haven't felt since..."

Yehya reached out and touched her hand in a comforting gesture, knowing the subject was a tense one for her.

"I know." He said. Then, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes with a sigh that he exhaled slowly.

"I will investigate, watch this woman from afar. I will see if there is any truth to your suspicions. And if there is, I must watch her, ensure she is kept safe so history does not repeat itself."

"...Maybe she can tell us who killed her." She whispered softly.

Yehya's head snapped to look at her. "Whoever it was is most likely long dead."

"But if they aren't... Justice might finally be dealt. He can finally have closure to the mystery." She insisted, tapping the table with her fingers.

"Perhaps." He conceded.

Yet again, Jezebel astounded him.

"Has Khonshu mentioned any changes with Merit's tomb?" She asked him. "Has anybody found it?"

"No, it is tucked so far away within the desert and hidden with magic. The previous Fists did well to conceal her tomb and keep her safe. Khonshu would certainly have mentioned if interlopers had raided the place."

"Good. Maybe one day..."

Yehya made a dry chuckle.

"If this woman is Merit. Maybe. But who wants to visit their own grave?"

"You'd be surprised, Yehya." Jezebel smiled, sipping her tea.

"Graveyards are often haunted. By the living and the dead. Some by choice."

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You pulled at the hem of your apron beneath the table, nerves frayed and body exhausted.

When was the last time you ate? You ate this morning, right? You were sure of it.

You had honey and bread, with some dates.

Or... did you? Was that another dream, too?

But, wait...

You hadn't slept. At all. You were so sleep deprived that the line between the waking and sleeping world were blurred so well that you were jumpy, seeing things even when you were awake.

You would be walking down the street and all of a sudden you'd be on a cliff, overlooking some kind of town, or a city, the stars and moon shining high above you. You stopped yourself before you fell over the edge, or a large hand on your shoulder jerked you back.

Yeah, when you snapped out of it you saw you had almost been hit by a car and a cyclist pulled you back to safety before you got turned into street pizza.

You were dreaming even when you were awake, it seemed.

Right now, a horrid pit was in your stomach, your nerves tangled and twisted violently together. You had been up for nearly three days. You knew that legally you were insane once you'd gone past the 72 hour marker. But you were just so afraid to sleep because of your dreams that you just... You couldn't. You couldn't stand it.

And here you were, in your boss's office. Not just the guy in charge of the cleaners, but the whole building itself.

It was currently 9:27 am, your old, beat up watch told you.

You raised your eyes to look at your reflection in the small mirror on his desk, and squeezed your eyes shut.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

The incense filled the air, the smell coming in off the Nile and the blooms around it being carried on the wind, straight into your house.

You hummed as you looked into your golden mirror, applying with great care and practice your kohl eyeliner, applying your wings; being careful not to poke yourself with the stick. Then, you begin drawing out your eyebrows, the end slope following the curve of your wings.

You take a moment to admire yourself, smiling proudly at the turquoise coloring you'd applied on your eyes, and how well it complimented your looks, highlighting the blackness of your liner, and stood out starkly against your darkened skin.

Setting the kohl stick down, you grab the reed with the red ochre attached and begin to daintily apply it to your lips, giving yourself a nice red tint.

Once finished with that, you placed your used tools on your makeup pallet.

When you were finished applying your makeup, you set down your mirror and reached out to your cosmetics box, and grabbed a small ivory pot and opened it and dipped your fingers in the scented oil, dabbing it on your wrists and throat, rubbing it into your skin in gentle circles, the spice and sweetness mixing together into an intoxicating scent.

You run your hand over your shaved scalp, feeling the fuzzy beginnings of new hair growth start to form. You frowned.

Ugh, you'd have to shave it again when it got too long. You did not want to risk getting infested with lice.

You would cross that road when you came to it.

You stand, and go over to the chest at the foot of your bed, trying to decide on what to wear, as you were still only clad in your small trappings that only covered your nethers.

It was rather hot today, the heat already stifling in the early morning.

So, you decided on your beaded dress. A garment that left little to the imagination, yes, but given the summer heat many opted for the most breezy and comfortable clothing available in their wardrobes, the richer ladies opting for beads to accentuate their beauty.

You grab the garment and slide it over yourself, beads tinkling as you do so. The upper edge lay on your ribs below your breasts, the straps coming up and over your shoulders to cover your breasts (barely, given the style of beading).

Once clothed, you walk back over to your vanity and grab the golden and beaded neck collar your father gifted to you a week before he died. It was your favorite piece, depicting the face of your mother, who, passed away not long after your younger brother, whom had drowned when playing in the Nile. His body had gotten swept away in the currents and it was a full day before they fished him from the waters.

Your mother mourned painfully, loudly... Her cries, you felt, could still be heard even in your dreams as a girl...

Your father told you the pain of losing him was simply too much, and the Gods decided they couldn't keep her separated from her younger child any longer; that her prayers and desperate cries for her son broke the very heart of Anubis himself, so they showed mercy and claimed her early so she could reunite with your brother and ease her suffering.

After your father's death, the golden collar had been modified at your request, showing a depiction of both your father and brother as well, happily holding onto one another in Sekhet-Aaru.

The only members left of your family were you and your cousin, whom your father once tried to marry you off to. You declined, and surprisingly your father accepted. Mostly because your cousin had already expressed an interest in the daughter from another noble family, one closely related to the royal line. Your cousin graciously allowed you to live with her and his new family, mostly because you and his wife had become steadfast and loyal friends, especially after you helped her through the birth of their daughter. Your cousin exalted her birth and graciously left lavish offerings to Taweret and Hathor as thanks for their protection during the pregnancy and birth.

You sighed wistfully at the thought of family. Your parents would never see you wed, or have children of your own. Your father passed away three seasons ago, leaving you the last of his line.

The collar had always allowed you to feel their embrace, even if it was only by the cold of the soft metal and beadwork.

You sigh once more at the sentiment and go to put in your heavy turquoise earrings (to match your makeup and the beads on your dress). Then it was the ivory bracelets on your wrist, and the simple silver anklet that hung over your foot, the cold material soothing you.

It had been a recent gift from your lover. It pleasantly surprised you, you honestly hadn't expected him to be one for gifts such as these.

Inside the anklet were carvings depicting a poem of sorts dedicated to you.

"To my love,

Without you I would have no sky.

There would be no inky black to hang the stars,

The jewels of the night.

Or for the Moon to rest and shine down upon you."

You giggled as you reached for your crimped wig, sliding it comfortably into place before applying the gold and silver chains you hung as a sort of extra ornamentation. After that, you reached for your linen shawl and draped it over your shoulders, tucking it in so it concealed yourself just a bit more conservatively than your dress on its own did.

Afterwards you slipped on your most comfortable sandals and grabbed your basket, as well as whatever items you would need to trade for things you'd need or like. Sure, you could have the servants do the shopping, but then you'd never get out of the house, save for when your lover whisked you away into the night.

You wanted to feel the sun on your skin, as blistering as it was, feel the breeze on your face; feel the atmosphere of a bustling market.

You pause to look at the altar across from your bed, where the incense burned and your offerings lay.

You wondered if you should shed these clothes once you got back from the market, or from the Palace this evening.

You certainly had an excuse, it was hot, after all.

He would come tonight, your lover. And already you knew what the night would entail once the two of you embraced.

Before you leave your room, you lean over and kiss the statue on the altar, smiling happily.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

You jerk your head up with a start and blink when you see your boss sitting in front of you, looking concerned.

You glanced down to your watch.

9:32 AM.

It felt like hours you had been in that dream. Maybe less, but it sure felt like a while. But it had only been a few minutes. Did you nod off when you weren't paying attention..?

He repeated your name again, and you cleared your throat.

"Y-yes sir?" You asked meekly.

"I've received several concerns from your coworkers about you." He sighed, opening the file and flicking through the papers.

"You've been a loyal employee, you've almost never missed a day since you were hired..." He continued to list off the hood things you'd done since coming to work, there.

However that icy, nagging feeling in your gut wouldn't go away.

"But the concerns are regarding your well-being. At first I paid them no mind, until I saw you with my own eyes." His bushy brows furrowed deeply, a frown crinkling his salt-and-pepper beard.

"Alec is a good friend of mine, and he as well told me how you've been feeling. He also told me recently about a man who has been spotted in the vicinity, watching you through the windows."

"Th-that was one time..." You peep.

"Well, given everything that's happened to you, kid... I'd rather not risk it." He scribbled something down in one of the binders on his desk, before hastily typing on his computer.

"As of this second, you're on your PTO."

You felt your mental train derail as you blinked dumbly at him.

"But--"

"No buts, missy. You're obviously not well, and I can't have you passing out on the job or falling down stairs. That's dangerous to your health and my company's reputation. You've racked up enough time to..." He blinked outrageously.

"...You've worked long enough that you could take a few months off work. For now, I'm giving you just two. You need to see a doctor, and get help."

He locked his gray eyes with yours.

"I think you got narcolepsy, kid. I had an aunt who had it when I was a kid. It's not good, that's what got her killed. Passed out at the wheel and got into a wreck."

He stood up from his chair, walked over to you, and rested his hand on your shoulder, fixing you with a gaze most would save for their child or grandchild.

"Trust me, kid. You're one of the best cleaners I've ever hired. Probably the smartest, though Alec tries, bless his soul. The man has admitted he's never been the sharpest tack in the box..." He chuckled a bit. "I'd hate to lose you to your health, of all things. It'd be easier to handle if you were poached out by some other company."

Your jaw hung, opening and closing but you couldn't think of words to say.

"Go on, kid. I have a meeting to get to. Go home, eat something, and take a nap."

As you were gently ushered out of his office, you were left in the quiet ambience of the sterile hallway, the buzzing of the lights above droning endlessly into your ears.

Great.

Just great.

What the hell were you supposed to do for two months?

Maybe... you could conduct some more research. Learn more about Egypt, keep writing your dreams down, and go see Jezebel again...

But first things first... You had to figure out why your hands wouldn't stop tingling.

That would have to wait. At this point you didn't care if you didn't get well-rested.

You needed sleep.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 6: Link

#khonshu x you #khonshu x reader #khonshu moon knight #khonshu #moon knight #yehya badr #my writing #khonsu #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley

[softguarnere]

It Will Have Been Worth It

David Webster x reader

Soulmate!au in which the first words you ever hear your soulmate say appear on your skin when you turn thirteen

A/N: Out of everything I've ever written for this fandom, this fic has been one that has given me the most trouble. According to my notes, I started it on October 31st of last year 😬 None of my ideas for it felt right when I had them on paper, and I eventually just left it sitting in my drafts. Randomly got inspiration for it a few days ago, and now it's done! Better late than never, I guess A very special thank you to @brassknucklespeirs (welcome back babe, I missed you!!!!) and @liebgotts-lovergirl who both chatted with me about this fic last fall when I started it, and who both helped me with ideas all those months ago 💕 As usual, this is written for the fictional depictions from the tv show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! Warnings: alcohol, mentions of war, the author using every impressive high school vocab word she could possibly remember

Just because David has a large vocabulary doesn't mean that he's in total command of it at all times. Throwing around words that make other people furrow their brows as they try to ascertain what he means brings him some sense of satisfaction, but he also has a habit of flashing his arsenal of expressions when he's particularly nervous, hoping to throw off whoever has made him feel as if he's lost his footing. And when he's had a few drinks? Forget about it – all the words he once had at his disposal are suddenly either strung together to form nonsensical sentences or are nowhere to be found.

Is he pretentious? Perhaps, although he would argue that there's much more to the story. An elementary school teacher taking a liking to a poem he wrote when he was eight and exclaiming, "David, I think that you could be a great writer some day!" may have started him down that path, but he ultimately blames the words that appeared on his skin when he was thirteen.

He used to love looking at his parents’ soulmate tattoos. "What a lovely name" on his mother's wrist and "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" on his father's. It always seemed so romantic to him, the thought that those had been the first words that his parents ever heard each other say, and that they got to flaunt those beautiful lines that they had given each other.

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it" appeared on the inside of his forearm on his thirteenth birthday. A beautiful line, really.

It's haunted him ever since. 

"Make sure that you give your soulmate a tattoo that's just as pretty." His father had winked at him and slid him a piece of birthday cake – strawberry with vanilla buttercream frosting, he still remembers – unaware of the panic he had just set off in David's chest. Because that was the first time he had realized that, yes, he was responsible for giving his soulmate a poetic tattoo. His own is a beautiful turn of phrase. Whoever his soulmate is, they deserve a line that looks just as pretty on their own skin. It’s a duty that he comes to take very seriously.

Every person he meets, Webster makes sure to compose an amiable greeting for them, just in case. He’ll quote Shakespeare if he finds they’re particularly attractive, invoking his parents’ first meeting, since you never know. So what if some people push hard sighs through their nose whenever he opens his mouth to speak? He’s a student of literature; producing striking sentences is half of his job.

And, he reminds himself, one day he’ll find his soulmate, and he won’t have to worry about creating turns of phrase that are unequaled and unforgettable – except for his novels, of course. But whatever words he provides for his soulmate’s mark, he’s determined to make them as dazzling as the bright light thrown from a suncatcher on the clearest summer day.

. . .

It’s at seventeen that he learns that not everyone finds their soulmate. The library is quiet, save for the sounds coming from the diligent scratching of pencils, the turning of pages, and the soft breathing of focused students. He turns a page in his own book and is confronted with the staggering statistic that only twenty percent of people are recorded to find theirs.

“That’s less than one fourth of the population!” He exclaims to himself without meaning to, disrupting the tranquility of the study space and garnering several peeved looks for his outburst. A seemingly unnecessary one to everyone else, but justified in his own mind.

Twenty percent! He’s still aghast as he gathers his own books and escorts himself from the library. The cool breeze blowing through the late afternoon can’t even distract him from the train of thought that has now run off the rails, chugging along through his mind with no sign of stopping.

Because now, come to think of it, people get married all the time, soulmate tattoos or not. And there’s no law or anything stating that you have to marry your soulmate once you meet them; they’re simply the person who would be the best suited for you. You could go about your lives as nothing more than just friends – or worse, nothing at all, even if you did find each other.

To say that the conclusions reached that afternoon astound him would be an understatement of epic proportions. He’s never quite the same after that. But it doesn’t stop his extraordinary expressions.

. . .

War breaks out. He leaves college for the experience. He volunteers for the paratroopers because, even though they’re new, they’re the best. If he wants to write about war – or write anything good, really – he’ll have to get his hands dirty with experience so that the sentences that stain his pages can be clean, clear, concise, and indelible to his readers. Honestly, it’s not until he hears one of the other men in his company point out that the new migrations and travel opportunities given to them by the conflict may well improve their chances of finding their soulmates that he realizes that statistic he once read will soon be incorrect.

For a brief and terrifying moment, Webster – as he is now called amongst his fellow soldiers – thinks that maybe Joe Liebgott is his soulmate, and that he’s responsible for giving him a really awful line. Webster had made an offhanded comment about the quality of the eggs one morning at breakfast, and the Californian had given him such a perplexed look that Webster’s panic led him to believe that the cab driver must have “What do they season their eggs with around here? Sawdust?” somewhere on his person, and that the reason he remained so quiet around him was due to not wanting Webster to hear him speak so that they would never know if they were actually soulmates. Luckily those fears had been laid to rest when Webster caught a glimpse of the words “Cabbie, if you drive any faster, I think the car will start flying” on his leg during a run up Currahee. It turned out that he simply didn’t agree with Webster’s observations on the quality of the eggs. Still, Webster remembers to be more careful with his words.

When he can be, actually. Which is not when he’s been drinking.

The British pub is loud with the sounds of servicemen singing and laughing well into the night. The general consensus that they’re finally going to be thrust into combat soon has filled many men with a renewed zest for life, and from the sounds and sights all around, people are relishing the nights like these while they can. And who can blame them?

“What did they even teach you at Harvard?” Hoobler wants to know as Webster downs a shot. “I mean, as a literature major, and all.”

“Is it just reading?” Skinny Sisk questions. “’Cause if so, then anyone with a library card can probably get a degree.”

Webster purses his lips, his glass returning to the table with a harsh slam that announces the displeasure that he’s trying to keep out of his voice. “Ha ha ha. Very funny.”

“I was being serious,” Hoobler clarifies. “You know, just out of curiosity, and all.”

“How do you even use a literature degree?” The conversation has caught the attention of Joe Toye and George Luz at the next table, and they turn to join Webster, Hoobler, and Sisk, suddenly very interested in the academic intricacies of studying literature.

“Well, I’m studying literature because I want to be a writer,” Webster admits.

“And write about what?”

Webster makes a vague gesture, trying to encapsulate their environment, the lives they’ve lived since enlisting, the world itself – everything. “War,” he says instead, an understatement.

“Hey!” Luz says brightly. “You could review books. There’s an idea.”

Toye cocks an eyebrow. “Is there money in that?”

“You could review Hitler’s book,” Luz continues. “Really tear it apart on it’s word choices, and all that.”

“Hitler can read? Who knew!” Skinny asks, making everyone laugh.

“What do you think he even would read? In all his spare time, I mean, when he’s not invading countries and forcing men like us out of our homes to come and stop him.”

All eyes immediately turn to Webster, expectantly awaiting an answer. The literature student freezes with a bottle of beer halfway to his lips.

“What?” He asks.

“It was a question, Professor,” Toye says. “You gonna answer it?”

“You were serious?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Despite himself, Webster can feel his eyebrows shoot up, betraying his surprise. “How would I know?”

“Well, in your expert opinion,” Luz suggests.

Skinny nudges Hoobler. “He just doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t know.”

Heat rushes to Webster’s face, and it’s not entirely from the warm glow of the alcohol. If it weren’t for the dim lighting of the pub, the tips of his ears would probably be glowing a bright pink with his ignominy.

“They didn’t teach me that at Harvard,” he says.

Hoobler smirks. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“Awe, come on!” Webster exclaims. “I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!”

“Excuse me,” a new, much sweeter voice cuts in. At once, all the men’s defenses are down as they turn to see two prepossessing women standing at the edge of their group. They look familiar, somehow, and if it weren’t for the dim lighting and the alcohol, Webster would swear that he’s seen them in passing before. “Hi, I’m Evelyn, and this is my friend (Y/N).”

The second woman, seemingly a little shyer, offers them a small wave and a smile as her friend takes the lead. Perhaps it’s the darkness playing tricks on Webster’s eyes, but he could swear that she’s looking at him, and that she suddenly looks a little fidgety as the introduction goes on.

“We’re with the Red Cross,” Evelyn continues, her words providing explanation as to her familiarity. Then, implausibly, she fixes her gaze directly on Webster. “(Y/N) here has been watching you for a while, so I decided it was high time that we came over and introduced ourselves.” She leaves the obvious unspoken – because war is an uncertain thing and it’s better to die with no regrets than to always wonder what could have been.

Me?! The other paratrooper’s eyes flick between (Y/N) and Webster as he stands, his friends struck with the same sense of wonder. With Skinny or Tab, this sort of scene is not infrequent, but nothing of the sort has happened to Webster – if he’s being completely honest, not even in college.

He clears his throat. So focused on willing his hands not to feel sweaty through sheer force of will, Webster extends his for a shake, not even bothering to watch his words.

“Hello. I’m David Webster,” he says, noticing how soft your hand is in his. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You beam at him. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

He freezes. Behind him, he can feel his friends tense up as well. “Oh my God,” he whispers, for it’s all he can do. The words that he’s been waiting his entire life to hear have just come out of your mouth – and he’s just recited what must be the blandest line in the history of soulmate tattoos!

Webster rolls up his shirt sleeve and reveals his tattoo, the beautiful line staring up at him in confirmation. Air vacates his lungs, leaving him breathless as his heart pounds in his chest.

You begin to roll up your own sleeve, and Webster winces at the anticipation of seeing his introduction on your arm. But when the ink on your arm is exposed, you glance up at him, something like a smirk playing at your lips.

“Oh my God,” Webster says again, wanting to kick himself, and for a completely different reason this time.

“It was the first thing that I ever heard you say,” you tell him.

Evelyn gasps, then slaps a hand over her mouth, though it does no good to contain the giggles that still pour out. The other Easy Company men crowd around, trying to catch a glimpse of your arm.

There in the pub, in front of everyone, the first words that you, Webster’s soulmate, ever heard come out of his mouth stain your arm, making several people laugh: I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!

At least now he doesn’t have to waste the rest of his life being so cautious with his words.

#david webster #david webster x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #soulmate au #my writing

[phoenixyfriend]

Thought- in the terracotta warriors thing, you mentioned that the Jedi archeologists brought in a specialist in mando iconography to try and work out what’s going on with the 501sts symbols- what if that outside specialist is jaster mereel? Could be pre becoming the mand’alor, could be just his side job, but either way he spends a few years studying it all and getting used to being the only mando in a base camp full of Jedi, makes friends, has academic discussions and disagreements, steals someone’s holopad to try and use the link to the Jedi archives to read all the things on tarre visla, gets into an actual argument, reconciles with agreeing to help with a historical reenactment of a Jedi mandolorian war, gets Madame nu’s comm number, introduces his new son to his comm bff who argues historical nitpicks with him, brings jango to the next summer at the site, clones react to jango somehow and/or there’s a few tubies in there who look distractingly like jango and/or someone has their helmet off and jango has a breakdown over it looking like a family member? And so on and so on

Context: Sleeping Soldiers AU

See, I don't really subscribe to the "halfway to archaeologist!Jaster" fanon. I'm especially reticent to engage with the Jocasta ship, honestly.

But... okay, here's the thing. It does feel pretty incongruous with how I've written Jaster thus far. I can believe him having like. A 'classical' education. Not actually tutored like a noble, but that he sought out the same subjects as an adult to make sure he understood how to rule once he started having a proper political angle. He's a history nerd in the way that a particularly political/philosophical aristocrat of the 18th century would have been.

Military history, philosophical history, political and even some arts... but not actually in an archaeological sense.

(Also, it raises my hackles because it's one of those things that feels like it's heavily associated with the whole "True Mandos Were Best Mandos" crowd.)

It also really depends on the era! Tarre makes more sense than Jaster, just because of the timescale! The soldiers are millennia buried by the time Jaster is born! That said, even Tarre is a few millennia late but... makes more sense than Jaster.

Most likely, there are historians and archaeologists coming by every few centuries, as new generations encounter the issue, and older analyses are lost in the depths of the archives. Frequency tapers off after a few millennia, but... by the time Jaster is around?

It's 100% a New Mandalorian with an art history doctorate. (With a military symbolism specialty, in this case.)

It's probably not a New Mando if it's an Early On moment, but it probably is a New Mando if the Jedi start getting Weird Vibes and investigating the soldiers in the decades leading up to the Prequels.

Would the New Mandalorians know more than the traditionalists? Not necessarily. Would they know less? Actually, no.

I firmly believe that the New Mandalorians are taught about their histories in a "German kids learn about WWII atrocities, going on field trips to historic sites of said horrors, so their teachers can stress that they don't repeat the mistakes of the past" kind of way. I imagine the New Mandos would have plenty of research and records in regards to actual history, with plenty of museums and such. Part of maintaining pacifism is ensuring that the coming generations understand what led them to pacifism in the first place.

Is this thousands of years in the past, and thus difficult to research? Yes, but the traditionalists would have that same problem.

More of them, even. If the New Mandos have been around for seven hundred years, like Legends claims, then the traditionalists have probably have lost a lot of history through various battles and bombings, while the New Mandalorians, while not entirely escaping large scale destruction and such attacks, are much more likely to have protected and maintained their sites, simply by not courting war as a matter of culture. The traditionalists, meanwhile, would have had a much stronger emotional and cultural attachment to legends and themes, though I'll admit those are probably prone to revisionism, much like real-world folklore and mythology.

As @atagotiak put it:

Ehhhh. The traditionalists do care about legends and history and stuff. Often in an idealized way, sure. But you could argue that they’d have more reason than new mandos to be into these stories. Which, to be clear, isn’t like, saying that Jaster is definitely a part-time historian or anything like that. It’s just I don’t think one side would have an advantage over another. (edited)

So the New Mandos and Trad Mandos are probably on an even playing ground, insofar as skill and resources and knowledge go.

But by Jaster's time, the Jedi would have more reason to think the New Mandos would cooperate. No real downside to asking them when it comes to knowledge/skill, and an upside in terms of 'not getting shot when asking.'

As Tia said:

And even if we assume Jaster is a big history nerd and would be receptive to the Jedi (and tbh there’s even less indication of the latter) there’s no reason to think the Jedi would know that.

So yeah, when the soldiers start having Vibes And The Force Becomes Suspiciously Active on that level... New Mando archaeologist, definitely.

#star wars #the clone wars #time travel #jaster mereel #mandalore #new mandalore #traditional mandalorians #new mandalorians #phoenix answers asks #trad mandos #new mandos #true mandalorians

[dragon-snoots-a-boopin]

Warframe...Rant...Update

So, I wanted to make a little bit of an update to my last post which was a very large rant about the video game Warframe. This is because I had a friend spend a few hours with me on the game giving me some pointers and helping me with some missions that I was stuck on like the very last assassination mission on Demios, I was stuck on that for so long because I couldn't do it alone and could never find or drag any groups of randoms there to help me.

Anyway, one of the things that my friend told me about was this thing called bullet jumping. Yes, I am sure that it may sound stupid that I had not picked up on this technique being like 40 hours into the game but, I didn't. What I had been doing up until this point was repeatedly sprinting and then sliding. I didn't even think to add a jump after the slide. So, I practiced that and then I, on my own realized that I could sprint, slide, jump, slide again, jump again and just repeat that to cover even more ground faster so I keep on practicing that and am getting a little better.

Something else that is positive is that I took it upon myself to go out and look at build information. Not only for my Warframe, Excalibur, but also for my Boltor, Seer and Exalted Blade. Now, there really isn't all that much I can do because I don't have the mods that the builds I found and like, at least, not yet. Like, the foundation is there but there is more to go but it's a nudge in the right direction for me.

A little bit of good and not so good here is that I finally got the Archwing built because I finally got some neurodes from the several hours I spent doing Void Fissures and cracking open all my void relics. The not so good is that I now realize that I am not a fan of any of the missions that involve using the Archwing. I especially HATE the rush missions because I just get turned around a lost a little to easily.

I still HATE Hijack missions with a passion so nothing has really changed there. I've not gone back to the Heart of Demios story questline because from what I read, one needs to be MR6 or higher to even have a chance at the double boss thing I am stuck on.

Now, to get more into complaint terrority here. One thing that I find very fucking dumb with Warframe is the over reliance on the microtransaction, specifically geared toward the in game currency of silver. I say this because I recently had this thought of doing a recolor of my Warframe and weapons. I wanted to do a simple black and blue when I realized that...I don't have a basic black. Like, I have a single strip of colors that have like two reds, one orange two blues, some purples, like maybe one green and three whites and that is it. My question is this. WHY IS THERE NO WAY TO EARN NEW COLORS THROUGH FUCKING REGULAR GAMEPLAY???? Before I go into my example, no, Warframe isn't an MMO and yes, I know that. But, the two MMOs I enjoy playing, Guild Wars 2 and The Elder Scrolls Online, not only do they give you a decent amount of dye colors to work with when you start the game, but you can also unlock even more dye colors by doing regular gameplay stuff. Why the fuck are color palettes in Warframe only obtainable by spending 75 silver on them? WHY CAN'T INDIVIDUAL COLORS BE UNLOCKED THROUGH GAMEPLAY!!!! It really would not have been all that complicated for the Warframe developers to have something like this but, no, it's all about getting that money from people buying silver.

The very last thing here is that I don't understand drop rates in this game at all. I spent some time on Cetus doing one specific type of bounty because of the chance for the Gara chassis blueprint to drop. Now, I never got it to drop so I looked on the wiki and it's graph is really confusing to me. Like, there a section of the graph where it said that it would guarantee to drop 88 plus 29 stages and says something about stage 2/A, B and/or C and I have no idea what the hell the A, B & C mean here. Someone else I know said those mean rotations but what the defines when a rotation starts and ends? These bounties only have three individual stages. The first is locating and taking over a drone, the second is to find some caches and the third is to find and defend the vault and that's it. So, where does a rotation start within those individual stages? I have NO idea! I don't think anyone knows, even if they say they know something about drop rates in Warframe. That same person told me that the 88 is the highest amount of times that one can attempt the bounty and not that I'd have to do the bounty 88 times for the thing to be guaranteed to drop. I still don't know or understand the drop rate graph but I think it just comes down to doing the bounty over and over and over and oooooooovvvvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr until I get that chassis piece. Then, do it all again for the system and neuroptics because I really want to try out and level up a new Warframe.

Also, I've had like one positive interation with randoms since my last post but, I still believe that Warframe's community are a bunch of toxic assholes.

Btw, if anyone that commented on my last post about Warframe that offered up help, my name is Warframe in Bellasar, same as it is here. Feel free to send a friend request, assuming it lets you and there's no technical problems there. If not, let me know on this post your name in Warframe and I'll send you a friend request.

#video games #rant #angry rant #warframe

[girlactionfigure]

I live in a small town in Samaria and generally mind my own business. I like to take late night walks with a nice audiobook and some fruit sticking into the street over house fences. I meet cats, I meet hyraxes, I meet fennecs. I rarely meet people. I see a lot of flags, some printed patriotic posters and the occasional message in support of our troops drawn by kids on large sheets. They rarely survive the rain. This is my small world.

This week, I've been walking a lot in Tel Aviv, a real city with hundreds of thousands of diverse people. Everywhere you look, there are posters of hostages; some official, some created by friends. There are personal messages to the dead and the missing written on walls, on streetlights, on utility poles; all in different styles and colors. There are flowers in the squares, teddy bears on benches, quotes from the slain, poems written on peeling walls. This isn't some official project. This is just a million people expressing themselves. 

It's overwhelming. It's like swimming through a stormy sea after swimming in a small pool your whole life. It took me a few days to digest the meaning of what I saw. Like making sense of all the art in a vast gallery.

It is the sight of murdered innocence, the look of a child who learned that the world is far more horrible than they ever imagined. And their reaction is to make the city one giant art installation.

You see, I'm a settler. I'm a "dangerous right-wing extremist." I live and breathe war. My eyes are always seeking the stone, the knife, the rocket, the ambush. Anger, I understand. The excitement of war, the joy of seeing your enemies destroyed. Oh yes! 

When Dani and I toured the south on our crazy little supply runs, everywhere I met an atmosphere of jovial madness, of crackling energy about to explode. This is my universe, always has been, except now it expanded to include most of the nation. My madness has become the new sanity.

But in Tel Aviv, I was overwhelmed with the hurt of people who imagined a different way was possible. Lost innocence. Kindness met with barbarism. Optimism met with calamity. Childhood's brutal end.

Uri Kurlianchik

@VerminusM

#Israel

[lexxlikes]

The invasion of Ravnica

I found it kinda sad, that we didn't get enough "The Multivers fights the Phyrexian" and so I've had the idea to write a little story about the Invasion of Ravnica and what the guilds might have learned after Bolas. Hope you like! (Yeah... there are some more gilds... but I kinda focused on my favorites. And yes: I do like the Azorius-Fun-Police-Senat)

RAVNICA

As the dark-skinned elf roamed the streets of Ravnica to run his errands, he was accompanied by a persistent, uneasy feeling. It wasn't nausea from bad mussels or a night of drinking. It was the feeling that gave you the creeps. The feeling, or rather, the instinct that is anchored in us to immediately take flight without knowing exactly where to go and why. The tension and adrenaline that ensured that all muscles were ready for immediate action. Eule, the courier, could not explain where these almost omen-like thoughts came from. Admittedly, he had survived the invasion by the God-Pharaoh Nicol Bolas and, as a Dimir agent, was entitled to a healthy dose of paranoia. But this feeling was... different. He had spent the whole morning trying to work out the reason for it and logically get to grips with his feelings. But in vain. Perhaps there were so many little things that you didn't even pay attention to in everyday life, but which subconsciously kept you constantly occupied. The fact that more and more of these strange symbols had appeared in the city. A circle divided vertically by a long line. Strange cloud formations. The way the light fell on the tin road. It all didn't feel... right.

Arriving at the Guild's headquarters, he looked at the still large, circular hole gaping in the building. It was a silent memorial to all who had fallen in that battle and a lasting reminder that they were not alone. It wasn't just crazy dragon planeswalkers out there in the multiverse. A millennia-old war was brought to these streets and so many innocent people died. And not only that. The city was forever changed. The hole Eule stood in front of and in the distance you could still see the last remains of Vitu Ghazi. The tree that was forced into an elemental and went down fighting. Many of the inhabitants of Ravnica therefore met the familiar planeswalkers with fear. Ral Zarek, guild leader of the Izzet, didn't care - God knows he had more important problems - but there was a negative mood among the population. The ignorance of what a Planeswalker was mixed with the fear of what else was out there and the shattering realisation that there was an "out there" at all. Ravnica was a planet and a single city. It already made you feel small and sometimes insignificant. But now?

The elf's blue eyes stared at the sky, lost in thought, as if he would find answers there. In a way, this was also true when these strange symbols appeared in the sky. But only for a moment, until the circle simply opened up and a kind of portal appeared. Organic-looking roots clad in whitish-looking metal snaked through it and after a short time the ground broke open. Similar outgrowths erupted here too and while Eule's bag was still falling to the ground and he was running, he realised one thing: Ravnica was being invaded again.

Azorius Senate

It would never quite come out in the open - and frankly, it didn't matter - why the Azorius were able to react so quickly to the attack. Rumour had it that it was the precognition mages, who had fuzzy visions of the future but saw enough for Lavina, the interim guild leader, to prepare for anything. After the invasion of the Mad God, they wanted to be able to act more quickly in the event of future interplanetary conflicts. In a small circle of 30 selected members of the Azorius, various emergency procedures and sub-clauses were drawn up, which made a quick reaction on the part of the Senate possible and also legally legitimised it. It was hoped that these clauses would never have to be invoked, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

This foresight of the clairvoyant magicians made them feel uneasy that morning. Without being able to catch any concrete glimpses of the future, their statement put the entire senate on heightened alert. However, only the relevant members of the "Meeting Committee for the Prevention and Security of Ravnica and its Guilds", or M.C.F.T.P.A.S.O.R.A.I.G for short, were informed of this. Not only did this committee consist exclusively of members of the Azorius Senate, but it was also broadly diversified in order to ideally bundle the individual focuses and specialisations of the guilds and, if necessary - like today - to direct them in an effective action plan against an as yet unknown enemy. So couriers were sent out and - just to be on the safe side - Sonnenheim was put on standby. Maybe it was nothing. Perhaps it was a good exercise, because something like Nicol Bolas should never happen again.

Lavina wasted precious seconds at her office window as her mind tried to interpret what her eyes saw there. Huge, metallic tentacle-like outgrowths seemed to be coming out of holes directly in the ground and sky. These "tendrils" looked as if they were encased in a white metal, but the reflective glow didn't seem to match metal and it looked more like porcelain. Lavina's focus then centred on the portals and what the brown eyes saw behind them was a living nightmare. A nightmare of metal, precision and perfection.

With a quick movement, she opened the tightly closed, metallic tube on her belt and pulled out a piece of parchment. Immediately it unfurled its magic and all of Ravnica was warned.

The three gigantic, triangular pillars surrounding the fountain inside New Pravh immediately shone with a warm, bright light, while all the previous sky runes were extinguished at once. The previous law changes and announcements gave way to the urgent message that Ravnica was once again under siege and all defence protocols had been activated. Citizens were advised to seek shelter calmly and without panic or not to leave their homes. In view of the chaos that had already ensued, these words seemed like a farce.

Seconds later, various airlocks opened in the three towers of the Azorius Senate building and an uncountable number of Thopthers - a retained change from the previous guild leader - swarmed out like a gigantic swarm of bees. The task of the metallic fliers was to warn all the districts of Ravnica, but also to broadcast visually over the entire city - or at least the 10th district. 

At the same time, countless Verdalken mages gathered on the ground at the large, central fountain in New Pravh. Various hand movements followed in practised synchrony and after the nullification mages rose into the air, a transparent dome formed around the Senate headquarters. No spell would now be able to penetrate the seat of the Laws. Runes of pure light flew around the mages, whose concentrated gaze became filled with fear after a moment. From their elevated position, they could see what they were up against. They had survived Bolas. But this was a completely different category of enemy.

The defence of the Senate building against the metallic, insectoid warriors was taken over by the members of the Lyev Column. The trained special unit for internal security immediately streamed out of the main buildings, clad in shining silver and blue capes. Armed with lances, swords and warhammers, the melee fighters positioned themselves around the Senate itself, while other units consisting of battle-hardened paladins and powerful clerics took care of the protection of the citizens. Various units, some even on horseback, were now also spread throughout the city and the first clashes between attackers and defenders could be heard loudly.

Boros legion

Aurelia, the red-haired angel and guild leader of the Boros, read the news of Lavinia with concern. As much as the angel lived for the battle, she hoped for the safety of her city and its inhabitants. And this could never be guaranteed in a war. As the Boros had to reckon with unexpected training sessions every day, the many members were at work with routine safety and, as befitted soldiers, they did not question orders from their superiors.

Aurelia was divided when the invasion began. On the one hand, there was now certainty and action could finally be taken. On the other hand, it was the inhabitants of Ravnica who suffered the most. The city itself. So should the leader be happy that the adjustment and uncertainty was falling away from her? She routinely shook off any feelings and the red-haired angel rose into the air with powerful beats of her wings. An aura of fire enveloped the guild leaders and she allowed the heavy gates of Sonneheim to open. The Boros garrison moved out to defend Ravnica.

The synchronised appearance of the soldiers running in step towards the giant roots shook the cobblestones and served as a warning to many citizens. Minotaurs, giants, humans and vashinos alike charged towards the enemy. Armed with lances, swords and an arsenal of devastating magic, the enemy's ground troops were immediately engaged in battle. But how did one fight something that did not understand fear itself and yet evoked fear in everyone else? Strange creatures that seemed to be more metal than flesh, with unreal eyes and disproportionate mouths, pounced on the legionnaires and soldiers with no regard for their own health. However, the battle-hardened Boros constantly regrouped and were quickly able to set up various defences so that the nearest residents could flee. But even some of them began to wonder whether they stood any chance at all against these creatures. After a while, fellow fighters who were thought to be dead got up again - but changed forever. Cables tore open their skin, metallic lenses literally burst from their eyes as their bodies tried to repel everything organic. Glistening black oil dripped from various pores and while some of the victims screamed in pain, a look of rapture could be seen on their disfigured faces.

While the ground troops suffered losses but were able to hold their positions, they tried to fight the root of the evil in the sky. Through the cloudy sky, another monster burst forth in the direction of the roots. The Parhelion II. The flagship and mobile centre of the Boros garrison. With incredible thrust from two nozzles on the underside of the gigantic building, the object headed slowly but inexorably towards the roots of the worldbreaker. At a suitable distance from the enemy, the many airlocks on the front opened and to the distant observer it looked as if white doves - a sign of peace - had been released. But none of the angels that swooped down on the enemy were meant to bring peace. Only salvation. With merciless precision, the countless heavenly squadrons swooped down on the enemy. The enemy needed several minutes - important minutes that greatly minimised the numbers of the attackers - to adjust to the new danger. When he tried to launch a coordinated counterattack, however, the angels scattered in all directions as if on command. The last thing the enemy saw was the grounded energy weapon of the Parhelion II. Light as pure, bright and hot as the sun itself burst upon the enemy's troops, melting metal and skin alike. All that was left behind were steaming lumps of metal and the almost undamaged "branch" of this strange tree. This naturally dampened the initial euphoria of the sky warriors and it sank almost to the bottomless pit as for every enemy defeated, it felt like two new ones came through the portal on the other side. But as long as even one Boros was standing, they would fight for Ravnica. And this is exactly what Aureila shouted at the top of her lungs as she crashed down on the enemy again: "FOR RAVNICA!“

Izzet league

Lavinia had long struggled with whether the Izzet League should be integrated into the early warning system for Ravnica. On the plus side, the Izzet had a perfect knowledge of the city and enough equipment to cause a lot of damage by exploding. On the downside, they had enough equipment to cause a lot of damage through explosions. And a chemo-voltaic radiation condenser, for example, made no difference between aggressor and inhabitant. But the new guild leader, Ral Zarek, assured the M.C.F.T.P.A.S.O.R.A.I.G that he would proceed with caution for the inhabitants of Ravnica in the event of a potential interplanetary or multiversal threat. Now the leader of the Azorius hoped that she would not regret her decision. The Storm Mage might inspire confidence - but the unpredictable goblins... She didn't want to finish the thought.

In Nivix, the headquarters of the Izzet League, there was no difference to a normal Tuesday afternoon. Explosions could be heard in the distance and, as various goblins rushed around to fulfil orders for their lab leaders, the smell of electricity (and, strangely, barbecued meat) was everywhere. On the rooftops of Nivix, the Storm Mage with the grey mottled hair watched the invasion of enemies not entirely unknown to him. 

New Phyrexia.

Jace had reported it, and as much as he wanted to help and be a part of the rush to the Machine World, he was also Ravnican. This was his home. This was where Tomik lived. This was where he grew up. The multiverse was at stake and perhaps deep down Ral Zarek felt like a coward, a traitor or an egotist. But at that very moment, he had to live with his decision and all the consequences it entailed. As well as the certainty that the invasion meant the failure of the Gatewatch. He fervently hoped that he would not encounter any of his old acquaintances in a nightmarish caricature of themselves. Zarek repeatedly asked himself whether his presence would have made a difference. Whether his abilities would have led to victory. But looking at this enemy, he wasn't sure what would have helped at all. Jace spoke of a Sylex and Kaya was very convinced in the presence of Teferie. But apparently none of that had been enough. The only thing Ral could do now was to fight for his city. He took another deep breath and focussed his entire analytical mind on the here and now. He had to have a clear head. He hadn't been a friend of M.C.F.T.P.A.S.O.R.A.I.G from the start. Too long. Too bulky. Too Azorius. That's why there was the Izzet version CM-LPG. "Activates the counter-motion loss power grid," came Ral's words over the small radios that had been developed some time ago - for just such cases.

What happened next surprised Phyrexians and Ravnicans alike. In a four-shift, three-person rotation, there were houses at strategic points in Ravnica that had been bought by the Izzet League some time ago. Extensive conversion work was carried out there, so that with the obligatory press of a red button, the 13 diesel engines in the house came to life. Four hyper-torque drivers and gyro-stabilisers at the most motion-critical points and cooling by crystallised ice magic ensured that the houses pushed themselves upwards through two hydraulic legs. After a gap opened in the floor on the now exposed underside of the house, four more legs appeared and the three joints made the house look like a gigantic, clumsy spider.

Reinforced by metal on the inside and protected by the natural masonry, the 3 people were able to operate the running bulwarks and keep the enemy at bay. Sufficient armament - partly due to unstable and risky research projects - was part of the basic equipment of the counter-movement loss power grid. It was intended to keep the enemy at bay until either the inhabitants could flee to safe havens or the Boros, Selesnijans or Azorius could dig in.

#lexxlikes magic the gathering #magic the gathering #fanfiction #fan writing #izzet league #azorius senat #boros legion #boros #azorius #izzet #invasion of ravnica #ravnica #phyrexia #march of the machines #new phyrexia #writing #mtg #mtg community

[astrxlfinale]

[ @kushtibokt ]

[ to 🤚🍑Mr. Stellaron🍑✋️]: Say, how has your sleep been?

[ to 🤚🍑Mr. Stellaron🍑✋️]: The whole monkey situation seemed dire, though hopefully it has not stolen hours of rest from your sleeptime, yes?

[ to 🤚🍑Mr. Stellaron🍑✋️]: anyways, I passed by the home aisle at a store and found some really nice pillows. They're made out of silk and cushioned with special feathers from a rather rare large specimen of doves found in a certain remote planet. Materials imported specially by the IPC!

[ to 🤚🍑Mr. Stellaron🍑✋️]: Since I'm getting a couple myself, I figured I'd extend the offer your way too. We're friends, aren't we? And what are friends for, if not satisfying each other's needs with gifts.

[ to 🤚🍑Mr. Stellaron🍑✋️]: I can also send you a bunch of these, if they cater better to you.

[ Aventurine attached IMG_73673.jpg ]

[ to 🤚🍑Mr. Stellaron🍑✋️]: Let me know what you think. I'll continue searching for more goodies to send your way.

There's a moment where the weary Trailblaze found himself within the depths of a personally made purgatory. Restless nights, fighting fit days, it was a combination that introduced the fine ropes of wear and tear into his regimen. Many would've considered such a state being inexhaustible.

Caelus on the other hand? It felt as if he was becoming the definition of a frayed string. Barely hanging on, so many parts of the self being met with split ends. Those now perma-squinting eyes of his soon fell to attention upon a bump of messages on his phone.

All in rapid succession too. Do you know how rare that is? For a moment, the infallible and untamed screeching of those mountain sized primates were brought to a pause. His mind wouldn't play the old wars, right now, there was a concentrated focus upon the present.

Even Caelus couldn't deny the drive to check out this moment of history. A message and by no means a cat and mouse game of text, no breadcrumbs leading to some inevitable grand task. It's the contents of this very phone that nearly made him drop it in shock. His eyes widened, his lip wobbled, for the moment set before his eyes was no mere fleeting glory.

No. This gift was truly made by someone who understood the chemistry of Caelus from top to bottom. For a fleeting chance, some errant, nonsensical part of the Trailblazer's mind called the gluttonous maw of the IPC some well meaning bastards with this boon being set his direction.

The talk about such pillows imbued with feathers with legendary properties, being introduced to the mere shape of these pillows in all this majesty. Somehow, seeing these curves and the promise of rest felt like finding a fire lit cave in the amidst expansive storm, a refuge and reprieve that found itself heavenly under hellish circumstances. What's being viewed before him was a soul who understood the essence of ass. The way they can restore body and soul, where the appeal of watching them done whatever garment can lead to an influence that ignites across the cosmos.

Aventurine.. Was he really thinking about him this much?

Text: Dude.. Those look like they came from the higher powers themselves.

Text: Whoever created them, they really get it. They understand the lost creed of what grants strength in the darkest hours.

Text: Aventurine. You were really something else man. I've been out here feeling like hell and a half.

Text: Please, I'll accept these gifts with open arms. Let this be from an Ass man to someone taking their days a gamble at a time. Thank you.

Text: I'll really have to give you the play by play in why it's a honest life one of these days. Consider the next drinks we knock glasses to on me.

@kushtibokt

#kushktibokt #| Shuttle Mail #Suggestive Tw #Y'know what #He had Aventurine all wrong and it's now fully clicked #This really is friendship #FDSAMFIOPsda #BUT ALSO THE WAY HE HAS HIS TEXT NAME HANDLED LOL

[naavispider]

Hey, if this isn't too much of a topic for you, I wanted to ask you if you think Spider could develop some type of eating disorder. I mean, Navi's tend to be very tall and tend to be naturally thin, but they're also very athletic. It seems to me that Pająk as a human would have to work much harder than maintaining his figure + he would probably try to be as perfect as possible so as not to stand out more from the rest. I have the impression that there may be a person who looks in the mirror and thinks that he has an imperfect body, not enough muscular figure, although this is not true. I've been thinking about a situation where because of all the stress of being kidnapped, the boy is eating/vomiting even less because he's eaten until he faints. How do you think Deja Team, Quaritch, Janine etc. would react to such a situation? Or because of the guilt of rescuing Quaritch, this would have happened after he was recaptured from the RDA. Perhaps Quaritch's son would then decide to train even harder to distract his thoughts from these events. Then I'd be interested in your take on the reactions of Kiri, Norm, Jake, Loak, etc. Again, if this is too uncomfortable for you, I'm sorry, I'm just curious. I know it was in your fic, but not in such a "drastic" version. I greet you very much <3

Yesss, I actually really do headcanon Spider as having some form of disordered eating when he's with the RDA (as to be expected). Obviously, trigger warning for the discussions surrounding this topic.

Before he was taken by the RDA:

he has to eat enough to keep his body in such peak physical condition. We know he is extremely fit, he has to be to keep up with the Omatikaya. So when he's eating at Hell's Gate with the science guys I can see him just devouring every meal set in front of him (he's a 'growing boy' after all) and not thinking twice.

in my headcanon, I don't see him developing an eating disorder while growing up, but I can see why people think that, given the possible body dysmorphia he must be feeling

After he's taken by the RDA:

Food isn't offered regularly and it is not dependable. Spider can't count on when his next meal will be, and he doesn't feel like he's in a position to ask. He's also not working out as much as before. Yes, he has to keep up with the recoms, but Deja Blue are not swinging through trees or lurching through the forest like the Omatikaya. So Spider can afford to eat less. (That's what he tells himself). He is also in such a constant state of anxiety that food always makes him feel slightly sick. When he does get the chance to eat, he sort of has to force himself to do it. (The beginning of disordered thinking patterns around food)

Quaritch and the recoms might start to notice, but nothing gets done until mama Janine (x) arrives on the scene to give Quaritch a blasting. She's sad because she knows why Spider finds it difficult to eat (they all do) - there's just nothing anyone can do about it. Spider is a prisoner of war, and the stress and fear and anxiety won't go away until the situation changes, so neither will his eating patterns

When he returns to the Sullys

He's lost his appetite over the months, plus is completely used to human food, so when he has to eat from the cookfires in Awa'atlu, he is both unfamiliar with the food and unwilling to eat in any large amounts.

he feels more at ease with them than with the RDA, but then he has the guilt of saving Quaritch weighing on his mind which festers anxiety instead

so he does start to loose weight. I don't know if this would develop into a full blown eating disorder, but I guess it's very possible - especially if Quaritch ever did go through on his promise in If You Playing Me and forced Spider to eat when the kid was in danger of going on hunger strike.

food seems to be a common issue for Spider in a lot of fanfic, including my own, and it would be interesting to explore why that is. I know that for me, I'm projecting a little bit of my own relationship with food onto him 😂

#spider socorro #tw eating disorder #tw disordered thinking around food

[fierymcmes]

Once Upon A Time 1x12 "Skin Deep" Sentence Starters

(feel free to change the pronouns and wording how you see fit)

Sir, there's news from the battlefield.

Sir, there's news from the battlefield. [Name] has fallen.

If only he had come...

Ogres are not men.

We have to do something, we have to stop them.

They are... unstoppable.

He could be on his way right now.

It's too late, [name/term of endearment]. It's just... too late.

Well, that was a bit of a let down!

You sent me a message, something about, "Help! Help! We're dying. Can you save us?"

Yes, I can protect your little [place]... for a price.

What I want is something a bit more special.

I'm not looking for love!

I'm not looking for love! I'm looking for a caretaker... for my rather large estate.

As you wish.

I forbid it, [name]!

No one decides my fate but me!

It's forever, dearie.

You have my word.

Deal!

You cannot go with this… beast.

The deal is struck.

Oh, congratulations on your little war!

Well, this is just perfect.

Stop! You've gotta let me sell them!

I'm gonna leave you two to continue this conversation.

Oh, this is no way to do business, [name]!

That was quite a show back there.

[Name] is just having a bad day, happens to the best of us.

I've been meaning to talk to you about something…

The moment you have something I wanna discuss, we'll have that little chat.

Is there something eating you, dear? Something you need to get out in the open?

Is there something eating you, dear? Something you need to get out in the open? 'Cause it's gonna have to wait, please.

Oh, you got the book!

I can't wait to see how it ends.

(might be said by a NPC) I can push the tables together if you guys…

When people are supposed to be together, they find a way.

He misses you! A lot! Trust me, I'm with him, like, six hours a day!

Let's have a girls' night!

I'm not really in the party mood, but you guys can all go and have fun!

It appears I've been robbed.

Funny how that keeps happening to you.

I'm a difficult man to love.

Where are you taking me?

You can't just leave me in here!

That one was a quip. Not serious.

I've got it from here.

I have a feeling you don't wanna be behind bars.

A short time ago, we had a little disagreement over [topic].

Let's just say, bad things tend to happen to bad people.

It's almost spring, we should let some light in.

So, job well half-done, then.

Why did you want me here?

The place was filthy.

I think you were lonely.

If I'm never going to know another person in my whole life, can't I at least know you?

Perhaps... perhaps you just want to learn the monster's weaknesses!

You're not a monster.

You think you're uglier than you are.

What made you choose to come here with me?

You know, there aren't a lot of opportunities in this land for women to show what they can do. To see the world, to be heroes. So, when you arrived, that was my chance.

I always wanted to be brave. I figured, do the brave thing, and bravery would follow.

Do the brave thing, and bravery would follow.

To me love is… love is layered. Love is a mystery to be uncovered.

I expect I'll never see you again.

Pace yourself, [name].

This is my first night out since [event], I am making up for lost time.

Have fun moping!

Two Valentine's. Sounds like a complicated life.

Well, you are fortunate you have someone that loves you.

Love. It's like a delicate flame. And once it's gone, it's gone forever.

Now, you see, here's the thing… I don't normally let people get away.

Did my [vehicle] splash you?

You know, I'm tired of riding. Let me stretch my legs and walk with you for a spell.

You're running from someone. The question is, master or lover? Oh. Master and lover.

So, if I'm right, you love your employer, but you're leaving him.

I might love him. I mean, I could, except... something evil has taken root in him.

Sounds like a curse to me, and all curses can be broken.

I would never suggest a young woman to kiss a man who held her captive. What kind of message is that?

If he loves you, he would've let you go.

True love's kiss will break any curse.

Oh, you're back already.

Come on, you're happy that I'm back.

I'm not unhappy.

And, uh, you promised me a story.

And since [event] you've loved no one, and no one has loved you.

Why did you come back?

Kiss me again, it's working.

You think you can make me weak? You think you can defeat me!?

This was you! You turned her against me!

I knew this was a trick. I knew you could never care for me.

Is this you being the hero and killing the beast?

Why won't you believe me?!

No one could ever, ever love me!

Well, that is... fascinating. Truly fascinating.

I'm gonna let you breathe in a second, and you're gonna say two sentences. The first is gonna tell me where it is. The second is gonna tell me who told you to take it.

Now, you see, that is not a good first sentence.

You shut her out. You had her love, and you shut her out!

She's gone. She's gone forever. She's not coming back.

And it's your fault! Not mine!

Girls' night's really working out for you.

I mean, what's the point of being together if we're not together?

Loving someone you can't be with...it's a terrible, terrible burden.

Look, this was a bad idea. I should… I should go home.

*hands a Valentine card that says* "[Name], I woof you."

You got a funny definition of lucky.

You have a funny definition of justice.

You really don't wanna cooperate.

Look, we're done here.

Actually... No, we're not done. You're under arrest.

Go. I don't want you anymore.

You could have had happiness if you just believed that someone could want you. But you couldn't take the chance.

You're a coward, [name]. And no matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn't change.

My power... means more to me than you.

You've made your choice. And you're going to regret it. Forever.

You know, I still owe you that favor. Nice fatty pastrami. Delicious way to clear the books.

Well, I don't need a reminder that you owe me a favor. And when the day comes that I make my request, it'll be for more than half a sandwich.

You want me to leave you alone with a prisoner?

You really wanted that little chat, didn't you?

Now when two people want something the other has, a deal can always be struck.

I merely suggested that... strong men take what they need.

We used to know each other so well, [name]. Has it really come down to this?

So... now that we're being honest with each other, let's remember how things used to be, shall we?

I'm the one with the power around here.

Don't let these bars fool you, dear. I'm the one with the power around here. I'm gonna be out of here in no time, and nothing between us will change.

*after breaking into somewhere* Flimsy locks.

I'm not dealing today.

Are you angry with me? What is it this time?

You can keep trying, [name], but you're never gonna beat me.

Well... you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy.

So she needs... a home?

Fine. I have other calls to make.

Hmm. The place is looking dusty, [name]. You should get a new girl.

#once upon a time #ouat #skin deep #ouat 1x12 #sentence starters #inbox meme #rp meme #askbox meme #it is the anniversary of this episode (and this show's most beautiful ship) #so I've decided to make some sentence starters for the occasion)

[spookypete-94]

Beastie: Chapter #5 GhostxFem!reader

Slow burn, following MW2 storyline, eventually branching into my own. Warning for canon COD violence and language.

Word count 2,537.

part 4.

part 3.

part 2.

part 1.

The Las Vaqueros came out and assisted with carrying in the bulk of food that her and Ghost had retrieved. This left her with nothing to carry in, but she held the door for the other soldiers as they did.

Alejandro came to meet her, "We're having a candle lit vigil for Rodriguez and the others we lost yesterday. Do you want to help prepare the meal for that?"

"Sure," she said happy that he still had work to do to help keep her mind off of Laswell. She still hadn't heard from her... but she threw that idea to the back of her mind knowing she could assist Alejandro with this. She chopped peppers and onions for what felt like hours. Seasoning the vegetables and helping mix the dry ingredients to make tortillas.

She watched as the others helped set up chairs and tables for the large gathering to take place. A thought crossed her mind if they did this often, just not at the expense of losing someone. Her mind floated back to the man that was shot when Ghost pulled her forward to keep running, or Rodriguez himself that had been taken out by the sniper... her heart aching for them both.

The food was placed in roasters and carried out to the card tables they were using for the buffet. Vaqueros coming out and sitting at the tables, some dressed up nice in respect towards their fallen comrades.

Alejandro stood at the front of the room trying to gather the others' attention. She was sure he was going to give recognition and and a prayer for his lost men. The lights above were dimmed as the candles on an alter for a shrine were lit.

"We are all family here tonight," he started off. Pausing trying to find his strength to keep speaking, "We are family with no matter what side of this Earth we are on. I am grateful you are all willing to fight this war with me, whether it is drugs or terrorists. You are my family, and I'm proud of you all," he said lifting his glass with what she assumed was tequila.

"Saludos!" he said the others repeating it back to him as the downed the tequila.

After his speech, she snuck outside grabbing her phone to try to call Laswell one more time. The sky looking like a tropical explosion with the pinks and oranges along with the faint purple.

Still no answer... this told her in her gut that something was completely wrong. She sighed, anxiety making her feel lost, she chose to stand outside for a bit. trying to decide how she was going to try to make contact with someone who knew what was going when her phone started ringing. She glanced down at it.

LASWELL it read. She eagerly answered.

"You ok?" Y/N asked instantly hoping for an update.

"Who is this?" A British man asked her.

She was quiet, her tone dark. "Think the better question is who the hell are you?"

"You know Laswell?"

"Who the fuck is this?" she asked starting to be frustrated.

"This is Captain Price."

That was one of the men Laswell was supposed to be with.

"I'll ask you again, do you know Laswell." he repeated, tone calm even though she was far from it.

"I'm one of her agents."

"Beastie?" he asked.

"That's what she calls me yes." She confirmed.

"What the caller ID said, listen- I've got some news."

"What happened? Where is Laswell?" her tone getting louder rushing with concern.

"She was taken-"

"Taken?" her voice serious and borderline hostile.

"We are on the way to get her now. "

"Who is we?"

"Sergeant Garrick and I."

"How do I get to you?"

"Honestly, it is probably best you stay where you are for now. I have a team we are planning to engage with to get her back quite soon."

"Who even has her? Where are you headed?"

"Al Qatala, and Urzikstan."

She sighed hands rubbing her temples.

"I told her I didn't want her to go alone."

"I didn't want her to either." His tone solemn.

"How did you find her phone?"

"Assuming she threw it on the boat before they captured her, I've had it in my pocket but couldn't answer it on time when you called. I'm going to get her back, I have a whole squad assisting."

"General Shepherd send them?"

"General Shepherd advised he couldn't help us."

"He fucking what?"

"You heard me." His tone showing annoyance, not at Y/N but the fact Shepherd was leaving Laswell to hang out and dry.

"Thank you for going to get her then, are you sure there's no way I can help?"

"Not at this time, we are all regrouping now setting up to rescue her."

"Be careful then."

The line went dead after that as she sighed.

"What happened?" She turned to see Soap and Ghost, Soap the one asking the questions. They must of heard her the few times she yelled or seen she was distraught on the phone.

"Al Qatala got Laswell on their mission in Spain and took her back to Urzikstan." she said turning to face them briefly before turning around.

"Shit...." Soap said quietly.

"Yeah... That was your Captain advising me that he and Garrick are on their way to rescue her with a squad."

"General Shepherd send men then?"

"General Shepherd advised he couldn't assist," her tone getting worse and angry once more. She worked hard to keep it down though, not wanting to draw attention from the vigil.

"What?" Ghost asked stunned.

"Right??" she said, and before she could think about what to say next she blurted it. "Starting to not trust the old bastard." Soap clapped an arm on her shoulder, choosing to not say anything. Y/N realized she was squeezing the phone with enough force that could fold it before she finally let go. It couldn't be damaged with her only way of communicating with Laswell or Price.

"Come back inside, try to have fun," Soap said.

She looked at him trying to keep her composure. "I really do not think that is possible. The person who I am employed under is being held by terrorists."

Soap sighed, hand rubbing his neck looking over at Ghost for help.

"You can either sit outside and fret, or you can come inside and try to pass some time. If Price says he's going to rescue her, he will get it done." Ghost's voice grumbled.

"Fine," she said just wanting to end the conversation.

"Gonna be alright, Lass," Soap said again.

Ghost opened the door for them to enter back into the main room of the base. Alejandro looking at them curious as to what was happening, but instead of Y/N having to explain, Soap was already on his way to inform him about it. This left her standing next to Ghost. Still feeling antsy by the way he seemed to make her feel and her worry for Laswell, she decided to make a beeline to the food figuring eating something might be good for her even though her stomach felt like rocks. Ghost stood close, but not to far off. Y/N had no idea but he felt the same way, worried for Laswell and in return worrying for Y/N.

She sat down at a table, Ghost choosing to sit at the opposite side. Her food looked wonderful, brightly colored and seasoned, but she couldn't help but stare at her food.

"You need to eat," Ghost said his eyes glowering down at her. If she hadn't had good interactions with him recently she would of seen it as him judging her, but she knows better now.

"I know," was all she said quietly staring at her food.

"You got it, don't be rude to your guests and not eat it." He said. It was honestly what she needed to hear, anyone else might of been offended but she knew what he was trying to say. If it was seen as her food was untouched, the people providing her might see it as rude. The Mexican culture as generous as it was, took those things personally, and the last thing she wanted to do was to transgress their hospitality.

"You always know the right things to say," she said looking up at him through her lashes trying to joke a hint of a smile on her face.

"I try." his tone now warmer towards her.

Soap finally came back and sat with them.

"Foods good 'eh?"

"Delightful," she admitted, her stomach thankful she was finally putting something inside herself that wasn't coffee or water.

She listened to the chatter of Soap and Alejandro, Alejandro trying to teach him Spanish. Soap butchering most of the words with his strong Scot accent making her chuckle.

"I'm tryin' dammit," he would say to Alejandro as Alejandro would slow and dumb the words down for him, his way of teasing Soap. Y/N couldn't help but look across from herself again, her eyes landing on Ghost. He was staring at her once more, but this time, it didn't make her uncomfortable. Whether she was used to it or her adrenaline dump from her recent phone call with Price making her unable to be skittish. She cocked her head to the side, a small smile, her silent way of saying You're staring again, to him. She could hear him exhale, his eyes changing shape. He's smiling, she realized unable to see his face from the mask.

"Gonna go for a smoke," he said getting up and excusing himself to go outside.

She chose not to follow, not willing to push her boundaries with him, she still didn't know him so well and didn't want to ruin what they had.

She instead turned her head back to Soap and Alejandro as music came on a speaker.

Everyone was lining up to dance to it.

"What is happening?" Soap asked

"Line dancing," she answered.

She watched the dancers for a bit seeing Soap intrigued.

"You wanna learn how?" She asked him.

"Yes," he said not even hesitating, chomping at the bit to learn.

"Come on," She said standing up from the table.

"Hopefully you dance better then you speak Spanish!" Alejandro teased Soap making him turn around flip the Colonel off. This caused Y/N to belly laugh.

"Just watch, you'll see the pattern with the music better that way." She said standing with with the group of people letting him observe a song before she tried to explain it to him.

"Scoot, Scoot, brush, kick and turn." She said breaking it down to him. "All it is to it."

"Think I can manage 'at," he said slowly mirroring her moves.

"There you go," she encouraged watching him get better at it working in the line of the other dancers. She stood back and watched him glad he learned how to do something else for the night. She danced a couple songs with him, before starting to feel tired and wanting to sit down.

She returned to the table, Ghost must till be outside smoking leaving Alejandro. Choosing the chair she was in before, Alejandro turned to talk to her better while still watching Soap.

"Good teacher, 'cause he's a difficult student." Alejandro teased.

"Ah' he wasn't that bad, think he is a visual leaner."

"So did your step dad teach you that too?" Alejandro asked.

"Him and his family," she answered watching Ghost come back in from outside, himself watching Soap dance as he came back to the table.

Alejandro turned to better face her, wanting to ask more questions.

"So what of your other family?" he asked catiously.

"What of them?" she countered not sure how to answer as Ghost sat down.

"You must be close with your mother and step dad... your actual father?"

She remained quiet, waiting for him to better clarify.

"Is your father still around?"

"Don't know, don't care."

Ghost glanced over between the two of them, feeling the heat from her last statement.

"I see," Alejandro spoke not wanting to push the vagueness of her question.

Y/N let out a heavy exhale realizing she was being rude again. "He was an angry alcoholic, did unforgivable things to us. My mom took me and left when I was younger. I don't care to ever see him again."

"I understand, I'm sorry was just trying to make conversation."

"It's alright, you didn't know. Just pick a different topic-", She stopped talking because her phone started ringing. Pulling it out of her pocket and answered seeing it was Laswell again placing it on speaker.

Alejandro motioned for the music to be turned down, Soap seeing something was happening came back from dancing.

"Hello?" Y/N called out to Laswell.

"Heard you yelled at Price." Laswell said warmly.

"Heard you got yourself captured," Y/N rebuttled.

"I'm alright now.. Price and his team found me."

"Good."

"I have information," she said.

"I got everyone here," Y/N said everyone scooting in closer to hear what Laswell had to say.

"There were no missiles in Spain just guidance systems given by the Russians. I think the El Sin Nombre has something to do with this. The missiles could be there, or they know where."

"I know where a safe house, it's supposed to house the one they call El Sin Nombre." Alejandro spoke, Rudy now sitting down with the group.

"I need you to breach it and capture whoever that is."

"Alright," Alejandro said.

"Beastie," Laswell spoke directly to her.

"Laswell."

"Stay there for now, assist them and stay safe."

"Think that's advice better for yourself." Y/N teased lightly.

"I'm going back to the states for the time being, and will be at home. Tomorrow go with Alejandro to check out the safe house and come up with a plan to get inside. Update me with what you can." Beastie looked down at her watch seeing it was later then she had expected.

"Yes Ma'am," Y/N stated and hung up the phone. A relieved huff escaping her.

"Told you, she'd be fine Lass." Soap said. "LT, Beastie taught me how to line dance!"

"I saw, you looked like a fool out there." Ghost quipped teasing Johnny.

"Did not! Did I look a fool out there Beastie?"

"No Soap, no you did not." Y/N said the music resuming. Soap ran back out there, ready to dance more.

"Going to make his head swell," Ghost said leaning closer to her, his accent making her head swim.

"Let him have his moment," She said leaning closer countering Ghost, her face so close to his. The same motion that happened earlier to his eyes when she realized he was smiling at her happened again. She was starting to be able to read his features even through the mask. Y/N leaned back into her chair watching Soap dance more Alejandro and Rudy pointing out the things he was doing that they considered wrong making them chuckle with each other. Unable to control herself, she looked back over at Ghost. He refused to remove his honey colored orbs, looking into hers. Honestly, she was starting to be ok with it.

prev.

next.

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost #mw2 #simon riley #war #ghost x reader #call of duty mw2 #simon x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #simon #simon riley x reader #beastie #love story

[bloodlust-1]

꒦꒷ Blood Bond ꒷꒦

Bound by blood, associated by marriage.

Gortash x fem Tav durge Explicit 18+

Chapter: 5

Part 1 ->here<-

No warnings. You know what you came here for.

Tav's vision blackened once again, and the last thing she heard was their climax.

~

Tav slowly opened her eyes, groaning as she felt the pounding headache against her temples. She reached for her bedside table, searching for a glass of water, but her hand only came into contact with empty space. Confused, she sat up and looked around her bedroom, realizing that she was alone.

Her heart ached as she remembered the moans from them. Gortash went too far. Petty banter, sure. But blatant disrespect to fuck some girl in front of her, it was disgusting. It was too raunchy even for Tav.

Why?

Why!

Why...

Why was this her life? A child born from a god. Tav didn't ask for the life she led, and she hated it. Gortash's words haunted Tav.

"You are no better than those fools."

Tav reached for her pillow and clutched it tightly, burying her face in it.

Yes, I am.

Yes, I am.

Yes, I am.

Tav wanted to feel better than everyone in her past, or at least feel deserving of more in life. Better than the Bhaal followers, better than the life she was in, and better than Gortash.

This was the only thing Tav ever knew,

Obey and impress Bhaal.

This was not the life Tav wanted. She worked too hard for her happiness, and this was unacceptable.

"He's not doing this to me. Not after all I've already been threw with Bhaal." Tears whelmed in Tav's eyes.

This stupid man who claimed to know Tav so well growing up, dragging her back down to feel small again. Like dirt. Bhaal had already made Tav feel small, and she refused to let Gortash join him.

A wave of sadness washed over her, but she quickly pushed it away, trying to be strong. She'll just get him back, surely? But at least Tav had the decency to not bring a man into their home, nonetheless to fuck him in front of Gortash.

But as she sat in her bed, alone and with a throbbing headache, her emotions were clashing with her attempt at being mentally strong. Tav let out a small cry, unable to hold back the tears that were streaming down her face.

Tav felt conflicted between her marriage and faith in Bhaal. Both of which she felt shackled to.

Maybe this is just the price to pay as a child of evil?

Tav was tired of being strong. She just wanted to let herself feel the hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

But as she lay there, her mind and heart at war, she realized that being strong was the only option she had. She couldn't let herself fall apart, not now. She had to keep moving forward, even if it meant being alone.

All she could do was lie in her bed, alone and broken, as Gortash's betrayal continued to haunt her thoughts.

~

4 Months Later

Tav sat in front of her large vanity mirror, gently running a brush through her long, white hair. The sound of her humming filled the room, her voice resembling that of a siren - haunting, yet beautiful.

As she brushed, Tav admired the way the light caught her silvery locks, making them shine like moonlight. Tav was lost in her own world, humming a tune that only she knew.

Suddenly, a knock at the door startled her. Tav turned to see a servant standing in the doorway, bowing his head down.

"Forgive me, Lady Tav," the servant spoke, "but Gortash has requested your presence at breakfast."

Tav's face turned sour at the mention of Gortash's name. She let out a sigh and shook her head. "Tell him I'm not hungry," she said with a grimace.

The servant hesitated, unsure if he should deliver the message. But Tav's threatening gaze made him quickly change his mind. He bowed once again before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Tav returned her attention back to the mirror, brushing her hair more forcefully now. She couldn't stand the thought of having to sit with Gortash, her cruel and controlling husband.

Tch, there was no way Gortash could get Tav to sit at a meal with him. Especially after the last meal she had with him that day. It's what drove most of her resentment towards him.

And Tav avoided Gortash like a disease these past 4 months.

"'Come have breakfast with me' " she muttered to herself, mocking Gortash's deep voice into her reflection.

Is he fucking crazy?

Tav stood up from her vanity and walked over to the window, staring out at the city. She smiled slightly while hugging her arms, remembering her adventure with her friends.

How she wondered how their lives were going...better than hers, she hoped.

Tav backed away from the window with a sigh. Maybe a nice walk in the garden will clear her head.

Tav walked down the hallway, passing many rooms. As she passed by Gortash's office, she noticed the door ajar. Well - Just a peek.

Tav quietly opened the door and crept inside, her eyes immediately fell on the notebook on his desk. She quickly scanned the pages and her eyes narrowed. It was a sketch of a bird-like machine, something she had never seen before.

A mechanical messenger bird? Hmm. Tav tilted her head as she tried to cipher the sloppy handwriting.

Tav touched the pages, outlining scribbled words he wrote. She barely sees Gortash these days..not like she wanted to anyway.

Suddenly heavy footsteps approached. Panic set in and Tav quickly ran out of the room, closing the door behind her.

But before Tav could make it down the hallway, she felt a strong hand grip her arm. She turned around to see Gortash, his face crossed with annoyance.

"What are you doing in here, Tav?" he demanded, his grip tightening around her arms.

Tav's heart raced as she tried to come up with an excuse, but the words caught in her throat. She was avoiding him and he knew it.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Gortash asked, his voice tinged with anger.

Tav's frustration and anger boiled over and she couldn't hold back anymore. "Get off of me!" she yelled, yanking her arm free as tears streaming down her face.

Gortash's grimace didn't falter as he saw the tears in Tav's eyes.

Tav stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, her eyes blazing with fury. "You drugged me, made me watch you have sex, and now you act as if everything is normal. Like THIS marriage is normal. You made me feel something only my father did my entire life!" she yelled, her voice trembling with emotion.

Gortash's expression turned to one of disgust and realization. "You can't act like a bitch and expect me not to react.," he protested.

"For fucks sake, I called you names and picked at you. So what? I never brought another man into this house and disrespected you like that. I thought you were different, that you understood me and my...condition," Tav retorted, her voice breaking.

Gortash sighed, his face now a mask of anger. "Spare the bullshit, Tav. If this is about your father issues, I'm not going to argue over it."

Tav took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "You broke your vow! You betrayed me in the worst possible way. You made me feel like I wasn't enough, just like my father did," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gortash's face fell, and he huffed out his nose in disbelief. "You never cared about those vows, we're business partners, you made that very clear."

Tav shook her head, tears now streaming down her face. "I deserve better than a business partner. This is my life we're talking about! Im tired of living for the benefit of others," she said, her voice filled with determination.

"I don't even remember who I was before this...I don't know who I am apart from Bhaal." She cried into her sleeve.

This argument was useless. It was nothing but pent-up feelings that he clearly had little interest in. Tav couldn't even look into his eyes. She felt disgusted at him, herself, and how he saw her break down.

Maybe it was the lack of her identity or the loneliness she felt that made everything come crashing down. But it didn't matter anymore, it was finally out there to the only person Tav could confide in these brick walls.

She lifted up her dress and walked away from Gortash. Tears streamed down her face, her heart heavy with sorrow and disappointment.

Tav couldn't bear to look back at Gortash, knowing that their relationship was strained. She clutched her dress tightly, trying to hold back her sobs as she made her way towards the exit.

This is fucking embarrassing.

To Be Continued ~

Any Thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Next part here

Hi! Been a while but here's the update, a little more relatable Tav. She's just a hurt person.

ANYWHOOO

I drew up what I imagine Tav to look like in this story and I'm so happy with it apart from the horns, cause why are horns so hard to draw;-; </3 She's a tiefling with drow characteristics cause ya know, bhaal shit.

#gortash x durge #gortash x oc #dark urge x gortash #tav x gortash #gortash x tav #gortash x reader #gortash smut #lord gortash #enver gortash #bg3 smut #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bloodlust 1