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thenightcallsme · 7 months

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ATWOW | Neteyam Sully, pt. 2

"Every hiss and yell is echoed by the cries of Tuk. She calls to her sister in heart-breaking anguish, who begs her to remain calm. Nobody is calm."

Synopsis: An experiment to improve the Avatars as a child who managed to escape lab confinements and seek refuge among the Ometikayan clan, you are a nobody. You have no family name, no natural ties to the land of Pandora, yet the Sully's took you in. Life could not be the same without them, so when they are forced to leave to protect the clan, fate settles in, and you find yourself journeying alongside them in search of the foreign lands and ways of the Metkayina Clan. Threats of the sky people grow closer every day. Not only is everything you know tested by their advances but by the relationship you have with Jake Sully's oldest son. ...Neteyam.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Ometikaya OC (Gi'anya, or Gi for short)

Contains: established OC POV, mild violence, crude language

Word count: 4,757

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

• • • • •

In fleeting moments, amidst the chaos that has been a year dictated by intergalactic war, I find peace among nature. Pandora’s landscapes never cease to amaze me despite never knowing anything else. Today is one of those fleeting moments. Jake, Neytiri and Neteyam have left on a routine scouting mission, leaving Me, Kiri, Lo’ak Spider and Tuk to entertain ourselves. Not much is expected at High Camp today, so instead of the usual supply gathering and children watching, we take off into the floating islands.

The five of us scale a network of interlocking roots connecting the islands. Whispy clouds snake over the green landscape below, ascending between the suspended masses of rock. Shadows from the larger islands above cast abstract shadows over the forest. In the distance, swarms of birds and untamed Ikrans alike weave through trees and dangling roots, carefree in their nature.

Spider leaps over a lap in the root path, careful not to slip on the lush plant life. Being human, he is incapable of the many athletic feats we Na’vi can achieve, but Spider is an enigma for his species. Growing up alongside us has taught him better agility and reflexes than humanity could teach him. Their dependence on machinery had doomed them. Spider was not like them. As he makes the jump, he cuts off Lo’ak, who laughs, impressed.

“Go, monkey boy, go!” Kiri calls.

“Guy’s wait up!” Tuktirey whines.

I’m unsure of where we are heading. It is not unusual for us to explore the forests of Pandora, but usually, we are exploring together. This time, Lo’ak has enticed us with a vague proposition. You have to see this, at least once. Just once. I was both intrigued and off-put by his persuasions, but upon the other’s interest, I decided to join anyway. Knowing Lo’ak, someone had to be there to ease the blame if he did something stupid, and being the oldest out of us five, who better than me?

After finding our way to the ground, Lo’ak leads us through a dizzying maze of trees and plants. Following his lead, we cross a fallen tree across a small river cutting through the rich soil, only wide enough to allow single file. Fluffy mosses carpet the bark, indicating it had fallen a long time ago. Tuk comes to a stop in front of me. She pants as she crouches down beside a large plant in the height of its bloom. Blue tendrils sprout unfurling pink petals. With a giggle, she runs her small fingers through the tendrils, which come to life and adhere to her skin. I give her a light tickle on her back and whisper for her to continue, though it’s not before Lo’ak notices the distraction.

“Tuk! Keep up!” her big brother urges, throwing his arms wide in exasperation.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“Bro, why’d you bring her anyway?” Spider questions.

Lo’ak, with a shrug of his shoulders, comes to a stop. “She’s such a crybaby. She’s all, ‘I’m telling. You’re not supposed to go to the battlefield, I’ll tell Mom if you don’t let me come.’”

“The battlefield?” I repeat in disbelief. “Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak gives me a deadpan stare as if to seem unbothered, but the way his ears twitch downwards gives him away to his guilt. “Yeah, so?”

“So? Your dad would skin us, and I don’t feel like testing him now of all times.” I sigh.

“Oh, come on, what happened to the unbothered you?” Lo’ak counters. “Neteyam is rubbing off on you too much.”

I purse my lips. The jab is lighthearted, but sometimes I wonder the same. In my youth, I was reckless. In fact, sometimes Lo’ak is so alike me, I wonder if I’m looking at a walking catalogue of my past mistakes. On the day that the sky people returned, my mindset sobered. I had become so comfortable in my life without them, too comfortable that, upon their return, an anxiety I did not know I had buried deep down resurged. I’ve spent every day since living on edge. My influence is not great in our clan, but if even the smallest thing I can do helps towards defeating them, Eywa knew I would do it tenfold.

But she also knew that I missed being carefree.

At my silence, Lo’ak’s tone loses the hard, defensive edge. “You’re not going to turn around, are you?”

“And miss out on seeing the battlefield when I’m this close?”

A smile that is not short of relieved pricks at the corners of his mouth. “That’s what I like to hear.”

It only takes two more minutes of weaving through the jungle before Lo’ak comes to a halt, turning to face us with a proud grin. With a flourish of his arms, he points to the canopy above. Spider whistles in morbid amazement.

Suspended by the embrace of gnarled vines is an old hovercraft. The glass of the front windshield is caved in, the remaining jagged edges coated in grime and fallen leaves. Old designs are overshadowed by the flora that attempts to reclaim the hunk of metal. Rays of pale sunlight shine between the four turbine rotors on either side. From the base of the tree that the vines hang from are great, protruding roots. The arched formation allows us to reach the vines and climb. Lo’ak takes the lead and scales a rather thick one and hangs from the rail. As he does so, Kiri dismisses herself, more interested in the plant life than the ghosts of Pandora’s past.

“Are there any dead bodies up there?” Tuk asks.

Lo’ak peers into the craft, leaning out to say, “Just one skeleton in the pilot seat. The rest must have been cleared out a long time ago by the animals.”

I climb up the vine and tentatively place one foot inside the haul. The rusted metal groans in protest but holds. Satisfied, I swoop through the frame, but not without warning the other two to be careful.

Inside the metal frame of the craft are worn seats charred from an engine fire years ago. Equipment and leaves are scattered throughout and glass sprinkles the floor where windows have smashed. Lo’ak has found himself in the cockpit, sitting in the empty seat and pressing the unresponsive buttons. The array of electronics is confusing to him but makes some sense to me. In my days living with the human scientists, they taught me how to operate machinery—on a smaller scale, obviously. But there were many times when I found myself in the hauls of these things, pestering the co-pilots on its inner workings.

The human’s ability to guide and command the craft mesmerised me. Hours of my childhood were spent inspecting the way their small fingers glided across the panels and eased the yoke, memorising the use of each one. Over the years, that information has faded, but some of it was still there.

“I haven’t been in one of these things since I was a kid…” I murmur.

Lo’ak is initially confused, then… “I didn’t mean to—”

I shake my head, cutting him off. “No, it’s fine. I had happier memories when flying.”

“Did you fly one?” Tuk asks as she peers around my leg, examining the yellowed bones of the past pilot.

“I wish. No, but the controls make sense to me. If it still worked, first…” I reach over the pile of bones and flip a switch on the overhead controls. Unsurprisingly, the craft isn’t responsive. “…fuel cock is on. Then the ignition is turned off aaaand the throttle needs to be at about a half…” The throttle, which is found between the seats, is a trouble to move. My fingers then glide across the control panel, picking out the buttons and switches I can remember. As I do so, I mumble beneath my breath the order of startup. “Then the propeller speed lever is set forward, supercharge witched to auto… now ignition foes on—oh, wait, the carburettor air intake filter is closed before that.”

As I ramble, the three watch with interest. Most notable is Lo’ak, who watches my every move carefully as if I’m meant to instruct him. Spider seems indifferent and Tuk is half interested in the view from the shattered windshield than aircraft nonsense despite being the one to ask.

I end my display by releasing the booster-coil button and screwing down the primer pump. “And now you have a running Aerospatiale SA-2 Samson.”

“Impressive,” Lo’ak says. “You reckon you could fly one?”

I just shrug. “I could keep it airborne longer than you could.”

He makes a face as if the very reasonable answer is a challenge. Tuk brushes past me to examine the unintelligible jumble of controls.

“Hey, what does this—”

As Tuk reaches for an enticing red button, my drops and I pull her away without a second thought. “Maybe not that one, huh?”

She frowns. “Why?”

“It’s the release for the cluster bombs.”

“But it can’t do anything—the thing can’t even start.”

“I know, it’s just…” I shake my head. “After years of being unexploded the detonators and charge deteriorate and they get more sensitive. There’s no research on how our environment speeds or slows the process, so we need to be extremely careful. In fact, I think we’re done here.”

Lo’ak rolls his eyes and jumps to his feet. The craft sways. “Come on, Gi, don’t be boring.”

“She has a point,” Spider counters. I give him a look of thanks before turning back to Lo’ak with a ‘see?’.

“I’m bored anyway. Can we find something else?” Tuk asks.

Exasperated, Lo’aks only answer is to shoo her towards the exit, which we climb down one by one. Beyond the thick canopy, the brightness of the blue sky has dimmed into a haze. Midday is nearing; so is the eclipse. I chew at my lower lip in restlessness. There’s no time to find something else because we’re always supposed to be home by eclipse. Even leaving now would be cutting it short.

Our one problem is that Kiri is nowhere to be found. I’m not worried that she’s gone far, but the tightly packed plant life makes it exceptionally hard to find things. Spider and Lo’ak have clashing ideas of where she went and decide to split up. Spider and I go one way while the other two go their own. I hum softly as I follow the human boy through outstretched branches and leaves. Lively tendrils from those explosions of pink flowers suction to my legs, arms and tail as I push through, enticing me to sink into the fertile soils and lush foliage. No wonder Kiri would rather waste her time connecting with life rather than dwelling on the spoils of the past.

“Kiri?” Spider calls out, his voice slightly muffled from the oxygen mask. He pushes past a ridiculously huge leaf that hangs down from a spindly tree. He calls her name once more, stops, comes to attention, and then advances with purpose. He’s found her.

Laying in the confinements of a quiet clearing is Kiri, curled up on the grass. The pink-tipped, leafy fingers sprouting from the ground sway around her unnaturally—there’s no breeze this deep in the forest. Instead, the grass sways in ripples around her, as if she was the source of a breeze. Woodsprites drift around her, shimmery and iridescent in the fading sun. The sight would, on some occasions, be strange—the seeds were far from the Tree of Souls. Kiri, however, seems to attract them as if she were the tree herself.

Spider drops to her side and shakes at her shoulder, repeating her name. When she doesn’t wake at first, I step forward and stroke her hair from her face in worry. With an exceptionally strong shake, Kiri is finally pulled from her deep sleep. She brings herself up with heavy breathes. You’d think she just ran a marathon.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She lowers her gaze. “I was doing that…thing again, wasn’t I?”

Spider gently brushes away a sprite that drifts before him. “Yeah, you were.”

“Kiri?”

“Kiri!”

Lo’ak and Tuk’s distant voices reach the clearing. Soon after, they become visible. They both usher us over hurridly and we are quick to comply. The dimming sun sets me on edge the closer it reaches the obscuring planet. Our pace is rushed as we make our way back to High Camp. Although, we don’t reach the ascent to the flying mountains before Lo’ak comes to a sudden stop.

“What is it?” Kiri asks.

Wordless, he leaps down from the snaking roots and onto the forest floor, coming to a crouch to examine something in the soil. Spider follows suit. Nervous at the time that is being wasted, Tuk starts to pace, reciting how much trouble we’d face coming home after the eclipse.

“It’s way too big for a human,” Lo’ak murmurs to Spider.

The comment piques my interest. Pressed into the damp is a large footprint, as Lo’ak said, too big to be human. Not only that but there are no markings of the four or five toes from the Na’vi and Avatar. Instead, the imprint is shaped to resemble the sole of a shoe. Native Na’vi didn’t wear shoes. Those who did were Avatars, and even then, most of the Avatars we knew had adopted the lifestyle down to the clothes.

“Avatars?” Spider voices the shared thought.

Lo’ak purses his lips and surveys the surrounding bush. “Maybe. But they’re for sure not ours.”

Then, wordlessly and in sync as if their ideas were telepathically shared, Spider and Lo’ak rise, carefully creeping forward. Each footstep falls in tandem. Us three girls stand to follow. Kiri tilts her head in confusion.

“What are you doing?” She asks, only to be shushed by her brother.

“We’re tracking.”

Silently, we follow the two off the root path and into a thick underbrush. The ease I’d felt on this day off has vanished, replaced by a heavy, sickening feeling in my stomach. Every sense has suddenly heightened; the smallest rustle of a leaf in the wind has my ears perking up and swivelling in its direction. I find myself with my hands hovering at my sides tensely as if ready to fight. But fight what, I’m not sure. All I know is that instinct is there.

Ahead, the boys slow at a break in the thick foliage, stopping short of a dense fern. The five of us peer through the leaves and at a clearing beyond, greenery illuminated by the blinding, but still dying, sunlight. Swallowed by the roots of a budding tree is a train car looking piece of modified metal. Beneath rust and moss and fungi, the shapes of windows and a door are briefly visible. I can’t get a good enough look, my vision obscured by a towering blue figure sporting human clothing and human weapons.

An Avatar. One unlike those I knew.

It was undoubtably a male. His closely cropped, dark hair fades into the long braided queue protruding from the base of his skull—a trait of the Avatars, unlike the queues from the top of a Na’vi’s skull. His clothes are that of human military; a tactical vest over a khaki tank top, camo trousers tucked into combat boots and a black throat mic. In his hands was a hefty gun at the ready. A second was strapped to his thigh. No doubt his person was riddled with weapons.

As the Avatar approaches the cart, three more follow; two males and a female. Tattoos, human clothes and human weapons are adorned by the Avatars. None of them are our own…instead belong to the sky people who reinvaded Pandora a year ago.

“We are never supposed to come here,” Kiri whispers to her brother. “Dad is going to ground you.”

Lo’ak shushes her. “Can you stop?”

“For life.”

Lo’ak ignores her, instead nudging at Spider. “Bro, we’ve got to check this out.”

Despite my appaled look and hissed, “Absolutely not,” the two breeze past me as if I was nothing but a thought. I hang back with bated breath and a racing mind as the two advance, bows in hand. Being the oldest here, every mistake they make will fall on my shoulders. Just being her is enough to earn me a piece of Jake’s mind. You should know better. I can already hear the scolding echoing in the distance as if the future was calling to me. A warning. And yet here I am, frozen and afraid to cause a scene as Spider and Lo’ak close in on the Avatars. Kiri gives my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. There is nothing we can do.

Up ahead, the two linger behind the overgrowth of a fallen tree. They lean in, sharing whispers I cannot hear as one of the skinhead Avatar enters the metal shed. The female leans through a broken window to watch. After a few minutes, he exits and motions to another Avatar sporting a pair of sun visors. The deepness of his voice reaches my ears and hints at an accent similar to Jake’s, but his words are incomprehensible.

Relief relaxes the tension in my shoulders when Spider and Lo’ak retreat back to the bush, silent and unnoticed. Lo’ak’s hand hovers over his throat mic. There’s a second of hesitation as he shares a look with his human friend, and after a long, regretful sigh, he presses the mic.

“Devil Dog, Devil Dog, this is Eagle Eye, over.” There’s a faint hum from his earpiece as someone responds. “I’ve got eyes on some guys. They look like Avatars, but they’re in full camo and carrying ARs. There’s six of them. Over.”

There’s a second of pause as he listens to the response. He scrunches his face as he prepares to answer.

“Um… We’re at the old shack.” Another pause. “Me, Spider, Kiri, Gi…and…and Tuk.”

Spider grimaces. So do I. Now we’re all in trouble.

“Yes, Sir, we’re moving out.”

Lo’ak rises as he gives his final answer. The rest of us follow, taking no time to retreat as quickly and quietly as possible. Once enough brush is passed, we rise from our crouches and move at a faster pace through the forest. Tuk races a few steps ahead.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble,” Kiri says snidely.

“Shh, Kiri, stop.”

I shoot the both of them a look. “If anyone’s getting in trouble here, it’s me! I’m supposed to be responsible for you lot, and I let one thing slide, just one—”

“Guys,” Tuk interjects, swivelling to walk backwards. “Come on, it’s almost eclipse.”

I’m only half paying attention to what she’s saying, frowning as that uneasy feeling returns in full swing. It has lingered since discovering the enemy Avatars, but now my fight or flight senses are screaming at me. My gaze wanders ahead of Tuk in sudden fear. A shadow of blue catches my attention, visible and then not within a second, but enough to confirm my fear.

But it’s not in time to warn Tuk.

From behind the trunk of an ancient tree, an Avatar springs from hiding. Tuk is tackled into her grip. She screams and everything erupts into chaos.

The four of us snap into offence and from a line, Lo’ak and Spider drawing back armed bows with snarls and me brandishing my obsidian blade. If it were just us four against one Avatar, I would have no reluctance to launch forward and sever her head from her neck. When four more Avatars emerge from hiding armed to the teeth with alien weapons, I instead remain still, knowing better. Lo’ak and Spider share my concern. That doesn’t stop us from raising our weapons.

Loaded ARs are trained at our heads. In broken Na’vi, the Avatars shout at us to lower our weapons. For a moment we are all at a standstill, screaming at each other with weapons drawn. But we are at a disadvantage. The humans possess adult Avatar bodies, tall and packed with muscle, brandishing automatic weapons that would riddle us with bullets before a single arrow could land. The fight is unfair. With Tuk in their hold, it’s not a fight worth attempting.

“Put it down, or I’ll shoot you!” One of the males yells at me

With a toothy snarl to mask my fear, I slowly lower the blade, drop it to the ground, and then raise my palms in submission. Lo’ak is next to heed their words and urges Spider to do the same. The second his bow meets the grass, the Avatars are moving, launching at us with vice-like grips void of any kindness. A substantially large male takes my wrists in his hands. I cry out as his knee slams into the back of my thigh, forcing me to the ground and switching both wrists to one hand so he can grab my queue. Pain seers through my skull as he squeezes. Every hiss and yell is echoed by the cries of Tuk. She calls to her sister in heart-breaking anguish, who begs her to remain calm.

Nobody is calm.

“Nobody fight back,” I remind the others at the sight of Spider’s exceptional struggle. “Do as they say.”

The Avatar holding me gives my wrists an unnecessary shake, taking the rest of my body with the movement. I slam into his back. “Shut up and don’t move!”

With a proud and purposeful stride, the skinhead slowly makes his way through the circle of captives. His gun remains at the ready. “What have we here?”

Another Avatar comes behind me, taking one of my hands from his companion’s hold. He stretches out my arm with unnecessary strength and spreads my fingers. He then reaches for Kiri with his free arm to do the same.

“Hey, Colonel, look,” he says in their language, “check it out. Four fingers. We got half-breeds.”

With nothing more than a thoughtful nod, the Colonel makes his way towards Lo’ak. “Show me your fingers.”

Slowly, Lo’ak brings his hands forward, uncurling his clenched fists to wave taunting middle fingers in his face. The Colonel only smiles.

“You’re his, aren’t you?” Jake’s. There’s no mistaking who he means. Lo’ak snarls, causing his grin to widen. “Oh, you’re his, alright.” The male holding Lo’ak steps back, allowing his Colonel to grab Lo’ak’s queue. He’s forced to stand beneath the pressure, groaning in pain. “Where is he?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak English…” Lo’ak says slowly in Na’vi despite knowing their language. “To assholes.”

He snarls and shakes Lo’ak, replying in butchered Na’vi. “Where is your father?”

A gut-churning cry of pain is urged from Lo’ak as the stranger Avatar clenches his queue harder. His knees buckle slightly beneath him. Kiri’s lip quivers at the sight. Tuk cries harder. Despite the look of pain etched into his face, he does not yield to the stranger. Brave. Stubbornly brave. It irks to Colonel, evidently so in the quiver of his upper lip into a short-lived snarl.

“Really? You want to play it this way?”

He unsheaths a blade and everything is thrown into chaos.

“Stop!” I blurt out. “Enough! We have done nothing for you to attack us like this! Do you not have any courtesy?!”

The Colonel’s head swivels so fast in my direction you would think it would fly right off. His grip loosens on Lo’ak and the blade lowers. “What.”

I scowl. “You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you alright. I hear you perfectly.” His attention is entirely divided. It’s enough to have him stepping away from Lo’ak and in my direction. “You speak English very well.”

“It’s my first language,” I murmur.

He hums in some sort of agreement. “I can hear it in your accent. Impressive. Why don’t you tell me, instead…”

Knife still drawn, the Colonel approached me with interest glinting in his otherwise emotionless eyes. There’s something incredibly offputing about this Avatar. I’ve seen many before, but none of them carry themselves like he does. Otherworldy is the first word to come to mind, and of course, he is from another world, but it’s not admirable or captivating. It’s terrifying.

“Where is your father?”

I simply shrug. “Who knows? I never met him.”

He snarls. “Don’t play games with me, girl.”

“I’m not lying!” My voice rises when his knife nears. “I was a lab experiment!”

His knife lowers. Thankfully, he believes me. “Project Hawk, huh? I didn’t know anyone survived that fiasco. Fine then, you’re no use to me.”

Without a second thought, the Colonel seizes me, spinning my body so that my back is pressed to his armoured torso. A muscular arm locks around my neck. Any more morsels of strength and my windpipe would begin to close. My breathing hardens and I beg in protest as another Avatar takes my two wrists and binds them crudely with strange electric cuffs. The hard edges rub my skin raw. Satisfied with my immobilisation, I’m spun to face the Sully’s. Tuk wails and the others watch with wide, horrified eyes as a knife is held at the ready against my stomach. A noise escapes me in fear.

“Don’t fight back,” Kiri begs quietly. “We just need some time.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Spider demands.

The Colonel walks me towards Spider in order to address him. “What’s you’re name, kid?”

I share a look with Spider. He’s uncertain. I simply nod. Buy time. I mouth the words. The vague movement of my lips registers, and without further instructions, Spider speaks.

“Spider,” he answers breathlessly. “Soccoro.”

I feel the Colonel’s breath pause. “Miles?”

“Nobody calls me that.”

“Well, I’ll be damned…” he murmurs. “I figured they sent you back to Earth.”

“Can’t put babies in cryo, dipshit.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two stare each other down. It’s less challenging and more…unsure. The Colonel knows who Spider is and from the confusion beneath a fogged oxygen mask, the familiarity is not mutual. Rightfully so; I’ve never seen these Avatars in my life.

“What are we doin’, boss?”

The question from Spider’s captor is only answered by a silent, emotionless glance as the Colonel is pulled from his far-away stare. Instead, he reaches for his throat mic, speaking codenames to someone none of us can see. He waits patiently for a callback. The conversation that entails is not surprising, but my heart sinks nonetheless.

“We are standing by for extract, over. Be advised, we’re bringing in high value prisoners.”

The Sully’s and I share worried looks. Our time was being cut extremely short, and with our help also on the way, there was no telling who was going to get here first—the sky people or Jake.

The Colonel and the rest of his Avatars promptly bind the others with handcuffs and drag us carelessly through the jungle and back to the battlefield. It’s swarming with more Avatars than I was aware of. Upon direct orders, our feet are swept from beneath us, knees forced into the dewy grass. No amount of pleading even amounts to a more comfortable position. My knees quickly begin to ache.

Fear settles in the longer we wait. The more I try talking to the Colonel, the less impressed he is with my fluid understanding and ability to speak English. Cold steel presses against the soft flesh of my stomach at my endless rambling.

“You shut it,” he hisses. “You’re English just made this a hell of a lot easier, and it would be a real shame if I had to reward your usefulness with a knife in your throat.”

“My throat?” I scoff. “You’re full of shit, you know.”

He hums. “Fine, you call my bluff. I need your throat. But your fingers? You could do with losing one. Call it a favour, perhaps, to help you blend in with the savages.”

I don’t talk after that.

As the sun finally disappears behind the distant planet, the Colonel watches something on a tablet given to him by his comrade. It was a file extracted from the old mech body suit used to fight Jake many years ago. From the sounds of the Sully’s familiar voices and the cracking shatter of glass followed by dying wails, it’s the video file documenting Spider’s dad, Miles Quartich’s, last moments. The Colonel doesn’t speak as he watches the violence. Once the video finishes, the sun has entirely disappeared.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #atwow #neteyam #neteyam avatar #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x oc #fanfiction

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r0z0 · 2 years

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You know how kids usually have silly fears (someone will drag me under water if I enter the swimming pool. Or, I'm not going upstairs alone, there's a monster). What would the La Squadra Kid be afraid of? How would the dads help them overcome their fear?

Lil Squadra — what are they afraid of?

Risotto's daughter ( Focaccia )

Birds. Escpecially parrots. Don't take her to a zoo.

Dad bought her these plastic little birds and she love them.

Prosciutto's son ( Emiliano )

Spiders and girls. Like every little boy.

Prosciutto tried to help him, but he doesn't know how to make him like girls. This situation is really suspicious.

Pesci's daughters ( Gianna & Agnese )

Their father being angry, which is very rare, since Pesci has a big soft spot for his daughters.

He sometimes just can't get angry, but he still tries to have talk&do about their mischiefs.

Melone's children ( Alesaandro, Agostina, Adele & Anastasia )

Their fathers stand. And their mom angry, since Melone spoils them too much.

Anastasia has a bad separation anxiety, since she is the youngest and always has someone to play with her or take care of her.

Anastasia is too small to be sent to a therapy or start exercises to fight with her fear. Melone still tries to make his children overcome their fears and like his stand, as it is a important part of him.

Formaggio's sons ( Valerio & Salvatore )

They absolutely hate and fear their bio mother. She had clear obsessions and was verbally abusing.

Both are scared of the dark and Risotto's daughter when she is mad.

Their mother suddenly disapeared, when Formaggio found out she had hurt his new fiance, so the boys are curently living their best life.

Illuso's son ( Lorenzo )

Touching his fathers beauty packs and other stuff that is in his bathroom.

Very scared of dogs and whales. This man is also scared of the old record player that his dad has in his bedroom. He said its possesd.

Illuso thinks playing songs on his old record player will help but it only makes things worse.

Ghiaccio's son ( Fiorenzo )

His dad yelling at him for doing stupid thing like licking the lightbulb.

Otherwise this child is scared of nothing, except other children.

Ghiaccio just tries to keep him from trouble and harm.

Sorbet & Gelato's children ( Sergio, Alfredo & Sofia )

Sergio is only scared of the dark.

Alfredo is scared of the butterflies and insects.

Sofia hates snakes and lizards. Her current fear is the big bathtub in her parents bathroom.

Gelato is curently always bringing bugs or little lizards with him home from garden and it only makes Sofia cry.

Sergio once locked himself in the basement and escaped through window. Still afraid of dark.

#lil squadra #la squadra #jjba #ghiaccio #prosciutto #la squadra di esecuzione #vento aureo #ghiaccio x reader #risotto x reader #melone #risotto nero #ghiacco #pesci jjba #jjba prosciutto #jjba formaggio #jjba illuso #sorbet x gelato x reader #risotto pls marry me #la squadra as dads

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thoughts-and-more-sadness · 2 years

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About two weeks ago we were extremely sick. He tested negative. I didn’t text because I had non stop nose bleeds. Now his sisters sick and she’s positive. So we probably had it. I can’t take any medications not even cough drops, at least that’s what he told me. Because of the baby so I had to ride it out raw which I’ve never done before and it was so awful and lasted so long. His mom kept telling me to go to the doctor because I was sick for so long. The baby announcement stuff is arriving in the mail. I’m having a lot of anxiety I don’t want to tell his family. I don’t want to have a baby here. I want my own space so bad. I want my bird and rabbit to be here with me keeping me sane. He tells me to forget about them you have more important stuff now. Just because a baby is in my stomach doesn’t mean I get to just forget the sons I had first. I’d rather live with a rabbit than a baby. When I was going through my important papers I had all of TPs papers. He told me to throw them away there no good. I told him sometimes I still hope she’ll come back to me and I can have her again. He told me I ain’t ever gonna see her again so forget about it and get over it. Like I really do daydream about having a place and her coming back to me. I know it’s stupid but honestly she was probably my last reason I had to live. Not all the snakes and fish. There’s like 40 animals here and I only feel emotionally attached to maybe ten of them. We bought like four baby blue garter snakes a while back to try and raise them and breed them. They all died. And honestly sure that’s sad he only got them because it’s a dream snake of mine. But I didn’t feel much. More of a relief like one less thing to take care of. Thank god almost. But still sad because they were only babies. Even after rosy died even though I was crushed I still felt like at least it’s one less thing. But then he took home two more snakes. That I don’t even like. He still buys live food all the time for his snakes. I can’t stand it. He’ll tell me how cute they are and how he feels bad. But then when I said one looked like Henry and I told him I had to leave the room immediately. He told me to grow up and forget about them. That’s the past you’re in the now. Like Henry didn’t matter. I wish I took the job at the small animal hospital. So then I didn’t stay at Kritters. Maybe I’d actually be someone and accomplishing things right now. I hope I die giving birth.

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yoonpobs · 3 years

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may I please request a heartbreaking angst drabble where jungkook cheats on the oc with her best friend and is completely heartless about it

thank you in advance ✨

THE AMOUNT OF JK ANGST REQUESTS I RECEIVED 😭damn jk stans ... are u ok?

anyway ... here u go bc I love me some angst too 🤣

pairing: cheater!jk x oc

genre: angst

warnings: infidelity, heartbreak, oc deserves better friends and a better man

words: 1, 235

“Wait—can we talk—please? Please look at me—” The desperation in his voice is clear when you turn around, face thunderous while the flutter of your dress swings with the motion.

“What is there to talk about, Jungkook? You humiliated me in front of my parents—in front of everyone,” you seethe, teeth barring when you poke into the pocket of his suit blazer. Your eyes strain to the rose tucked prettily inside.

You were allergic.

“I know, I know,” He exasperates, hands reaching out in an attempt to hold your arms down, “I’m sorry.”

The weather is too bright for you to be outside the wedding hall, your hands holding onto the heavy drapes of your dress as your makeup thaws under the blazing heat. The birds are singing a tune you’re unfamiliar with, a mocking cry to a special day turned sour.

“What the fuck is sorry going to do?” You hiss, “And you don’t know Jungkook. If you did you would’ve never fucked up the way you did today.”

Jungkook stands with a forlorn expression, his hands draped helplessly by his side as he attempts to assess your features. But the only thing you allow him to see is the vexation that plagues your skin, the usual, polished and prim girl was no longer there—but was replaced with a re-extinguished flame and he was the only person to blame.

“I didn’t mean for them to find out!” He defends, eyes scrunching in annoyance when you hurl out accusations in the open air, for the wind to breeze past and for the leaves to trickle down.

“What were you even thinking?” You sneer, pushing at his chest in hopes of transferring the ache in your own to him. Whatever transference of energy that you could ever conjure is poured out into your fingertips, even as they shake. “God—why couldn’t you have fucked Soojin after the wedding? Why before you were meant to walk the aisle? Huh? Am I a fucking joke to you, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks, a sign that he was attempting to level out his own anger the more you retaliate with your grating tongue; unapologetic when you stare him down with eyes of a snake, venomous and hostile when you recall the events that unfolded.

“You said we could see other people!” He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air as a futile attempt to reason with you.

You laugh humourlessly, “Not on the day of our wedding, Jungkook.” You say softly, “Not when my parents and your parents, and the hundreds of business associates in that damn hall are waiting for me to walk down that aisle.”

He purses his lips.

“My best friend,” You scoff in disbelief, a tight smile appearing on your face, “She took being there for you a little too literally, huh?”

Your emotions took a one-eighty, the subdued tone in your voice escapes your lips when you stare blankly ahead, eyes far away from Jungkook’s face. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when the last thing you remembered was seeing him and Soojin, in the dressing room of the bride—making love to one another like it was the very last time they could do so.

You were the villain, the person in-between their love story. The person Jungkook’s obligated to where his heart lays in your best friends palm. You were the instigator to the events that unfolded, the same person that gave Jungkook the ammunition to wreak havoc and destroy your heart. There was no way he would’ve known Soojin otherwise.

“We’re not marrying for love,” He reminds you in a soft voice.

You scoff, shaking your head.

“Did you think I wasn’t aware?” You narrow your eyes at him, taking an intimidating step into his direction so that you’re nearly pressed up against his chest, “I never asked you to love me, Jungkook. I asked you to respect me. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Jungkook’s eyes darts away, a mechanism he opts for to push aside the guilt that eats him whole.

“I’m not stupid, Jungkook. But you made me look like an absolute fool in there. While I was mingling with your family and telling them how much you’ve taken care of me, how much you’ve loved me throughout our engagement—you were fucking my best friend in broad daylight. All while I had to put on a plastic smile and pretend like I was happy.” You say hoarsely, “you found your happiness in a loveless marriage. You couldn’t even pretend to be happy with me for a day?” You finish in a soft whisper, fists clenching by your side.

Jungkook sighs, a deep exhale that has him moving forward until his arms are wrapped around your body; all while you try to level your breathing so that you wouldn’t cry. But it’s to no avail, especially when he whispers apologies like they meant something into your hair, his strong arms rubbing soothing circles onto your shoulder blades. He holds you almost like a lover would—but you would be an idiot to burn twice.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaks, “I couldn’t help myself … I just—I wanted to be in love, I wanted to feel loved.”

You wanted to scream. Because Jungkook was smart, a son to two genius’ and a genius himself—excelling in everything he did and topped medical school—but he was so stupid; that he couldn’t even see that you were trying. That you tried so hard to love him.

And that you did.

You sink into his hold even if it’s temporary, even if his heart is set on you only when you’re vulnerable. Because he would never love you at your best, never love you if it weren’t for show.

“I’m still going to marry you.”

Jungkook’s arms rest loosely around your waist, a pause in his ministrations as he considers your words.

“I disrespected you,” Jungkook says softly.

You bite your tongue because, amongst all the other things he’s done, the disrespect hurt the least.

“And I’ve told white lies my entire life, Jungkook. At least now I have the dress to match.”

You push him off and swipe at your tears, taking a deep breath as you compose yourself. It’s terrifying how in just two seconds you were smiling widely, as if your heart wasn’t shattering in your ribcage, or that you had to walk into that wedding hall and marry a man that didn’t love you and would return to where his heart laid the moment it was all over. And that everyone knew where he’d run to if he had the wings to fly.

You smile, even if your face is tight. You take the first step to return to the hall, to tell everyone that your love for Jungkook was stronger than anything else and that you’d move past this. Even as you keep Soojin by your side. Because a friendship of two decades with a woman that’s seen you through your worst is just as important—if not more, than the person you fell in love with.

Just as you’re about to leave, his hand darts out to grab at your wrist to turn you around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, murmuring the words into your hair when he presses a kiss to it.

You smile. Again. You smell her on him.

You turn.

#requests #jk drabble #jk angst #jk infidelity #jk cheater #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook x oc #jungkook cheater #drabble #jk mini #jungkook mini #cheater!jk

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gumnut-logic · 2 years

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The Mine (Part 8)

Here is tonight’s part. This writing every evening thing seems to be working :D

As always, many thanks to @katblu42 for the readthrough and advice and answering all my manic questions :D

I continue to be surprised and very grateful for all the wonderful support you guys are giving me ::hugs you all tight::

Let’s visit the frantic brothers upstairs :D I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

I was taken in by the Tracys when I was eight. Young, hurting and frightened.

They have never shown me anything but love and kindness. Even when I struck out in fear.

The name Kayo didn’t come into existence without bruises, you know.

Mr Tracy and his five sons did more for me and my family than anyone alive.

And in turn they suffered so much.

I hate my uncle with the power of suns. For all he has done and all he has hurt.

He can burn in hell.

But the Tracys run by a different moral code. Scott has saved the man! They radiate a goodness of which I honestly don’t think I’m capable.

I’m far from Tracy no matter how I try.

But that is to my advantage. Because I can rescue them from themselves.

From a world that doesn’t deserve them.

Or die trying.

Of course, that assumed they didn’t do something stupid like sacrifice themselves in a mine for the family motto.

“I’m sorry, John, it’s not working.” I swore and stamped my foot on Shadow’s cockpit floor, immediately regretting it. It wasn’t her fault. She could only do what she could.

“Brains, is on his way out. We will identify the cause eventually. In the meantime, I need you and Alan to find a physical work around.”

“FAB.” I sighed and killed off comms. John’s voice was strained. More strained than I’d heard in a long time. He needed to come down after this. Movie night or some other family activity to detox the day.

Once they’d found the rest of the family.

I disengaged Shadow’s claws and shot her up into the air enough to pivot into her landing sequence beside her hulking sister.

Climbing out, I was, as always, struck at how small she was next to Virgil’s ‘bird.

I ignored it. I had more important things to do.

Boarding her, I made my way down to the medbay. And found, as expected, two arguing brothers.

Gordon was at least in bed, but it obviously wasn’t voluntarily as Alan was furious beside him. “You are staying here! Do you want to help or hamper? Because continuing to climb out of bed is stopping me from being able to do anything to help our brothers because I need to attend to you! Do I make myself clear?!”

I froze in the doorway. Wow. Go Allie.

Gordon looked awful – pale and wan, obviously in pain, possibly drugged, definitely not thinking straight.

Alan was red in the face and frantic to impress his right to order his brother to bed.

John had obviously been distracted with the sensor attempts we had been tackling, otherwise a sharp word from orbit would have ended this already.

A sharp word from me was capable of doing something similar.

But I didn’t contact Five or say a thing. I just stood there and watched.

“Am I clear?!”

Gordon was staring at his brother, eyes a little wide. “Uh, yeah.”

“Good!”

Alan deflated a little where he was standing.

“Gentleman?”

Both of them flinched, but at least Alan straightened, a little spine in him as his expression dared me to contradict him.

Good for you, Allie.

I shifted where I stood, placing my weight on my left foot. “Sensor attempts were all failures. We need another plan.”

Gordon caught my eye. “As I was trying to tell Bed Guardian here, Virg used the comms snake when I was incommunicado in that stupid pyramid temple. Assuming Virgil repaired it, and he would have, it should be here on Two. We could give that a try.”

Alan glared at him. “You weren’t telling, you were attempting to show, and fall on your face in the process.” He turned his back on his brother to cut off the building protest. “Kayo-“

But he was cut off by an urgent call from Five. “Guys, One and Two are picking up seismic disturbances in the mine.”

Alan startled. “There is earth movement? Another explosion?!”

“Possibly, though not as powerful as the last one.” A hologram flickered up showing the map they had of the mine. Overlaid were the sketched out verbal directions from the miner they had rescued, and a lone green dot where they estimated their injured brother lay. “By triangulation, the new disturbance is approximately here.” A bubble appeared just above Virgil in the diagram.

God, no.

“What are you saying, John? Where is Scott?” Alan’s voice was tight, as if it was the only thing holding him together.

“I’m saying that the situation has changed, possibly for the worse.”

Alan shifted where he stood, his eyes, blue ice. “We need to make contact with Thunderbirds One and Two.” Those eyes caught mine and I shivered. “Now.”

We both dashed out the door.

-o-o-o-

Part 9

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #kayo kyrano #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #nuttyfic

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raya-rhaenyra-ahsoka · 3 years

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Why Daenerys Should've Stayed Longer in the North Than Attack Cersei Too Soon (Which is a dick move, really) PART 2

This is a continuation from my other post, as promised. Here’s the link to Part 1 here.

ALLIES FROM THE SOUTH

The Stormlands. With Dany recently legitimizing Robert Baratheon’s last living bastard, Gendry (Yay!), and appointed him as the new Lord of Storm’s End, I think he had pledged his loyalty and full support to her.

Now since the Baratheons are the overlords of the Stormlands, it ultimately makes the Stormlands part of Dany’s new rule in Westeros. And if the Stormmen questioned Gendry’s legitimacy, there are two people who can back him up: Ser Davos Seaworth, a landed knight, and Ser Brienne of Tarth, literally the heiress to Evenfall in Tarth Island. Both of whom are from the Stormlands and have served the late Baratheon lords, Stannis,

and Renly, respectively.

TV show-wise, Gendry had taken over Edric Storm’s plotline. Edric Storm was another one of Robert’s many bastards and it was him who Ser Davos saved from being killed by Mellisandre in the books, not Gendry. Gendry himself was grateful to Davos for saving his life and he sort of stepped up as his own parental figure. I also think Gendry reminded Davos of the son he lost during the Battle of Blackwater Bay.

As for Brienne, she and Gendry never shared a conversation in the show, but in the books, he even saved her life. Brienne came from Tarth, an island in the Stormlands, where her father Selwyn Tarth is lord and one of the many bannermen of the Baratheons of Storm’s End. Brienne came across Gendry in the Inn at the Crossroads while she was searching for the Stark girls. When she saw him, she literally thought he was Renly because of his striking resemblance to his uncle. Their exchange went something like this:

Brienne: Oh my god, Lord Renly?!

Gendry: Uh, what? Lord? Lol no, I’m just a smith.

I wished it happened in the show, it would’ve been funny.

Dorne. There isn’t much plot regarding Dorne in the show. (Again, f*ck D&D for ruining a great sub-plot of the story!) But in the books, the Martell heiress, Arianne was the ultimate feminist icon. She supported and fought for Myrcella Baratheon’s claim to the Iron throne over her younger brother, Tommen, and she hoped that the rest of Westeros would follow after Dorne’s right of inheritance regardless of gender and order of birth. But no! They disregarded that seemingly important plot that even George R.R. Martin was disappointed about the changes. (We hear you, George!) Nevertheless, Arianne would’ve supported a queen, yes. But between Daenerys and Cersei, she’d probably go with Dany mainly because of their family ties. In case you forgot, Rhaegar’s late first wife, Elia Martell, was Arianne’s aunt. Also, because of what happened to Elia and Oberyn Martell in King’s Landing, the Martells practically loathed the Lannisters. In the show, Oberyn Martell’s paramour Ellaria Sand, and his bastard daughters, the Sand Snakes, hated the Lannisters, that’s why they sided with Dany. But with all of them dead and House Martell now extinct, I think the new prince of Dorne would’ve allied himself with a tamer ruler, not one who plays with wildfire. (Note: this is when Dany stayed in the North and did not march south yet.)

Spies. In the Art of War, the use of spies implies gaining knowledge of the enemy, knowing their motive and their next move. With Lord Varys the Spider in Winterfell, who’s still serving under Daenerys, has its advantages. Vary’s networks of spies or as what he called them, his “little birds” are literally scattered across the seven kingdoms.

His little birds are actually children, and appearance-wise, cannot be easily identified as spies. With his intel, they could easily formulate a plan to defeat Cersei.

DEFENSE AT SEA

If Cersei couldn’t do it by land, she’ll go by sea. Which, Daenerys of course, have the appropriate fleets to defend, covering both the Narrow and Sunset Seas. Here's a map:

(Source: pinterest.com)

Enemies to the East. If Cersei will be stupid enough to attack through the Narrow Sea by sea, Daenerys has the fleets to defend. The Northern fleet, a.k.a the Manderly Fleet of White Harbor and the Arryn Fleet in Gulltown in the Vale will join forces.

Enemies to the West. And if they invade through the Sunset Sea, they’d have to pass the Iron Islands, where Yara Greyjoy’s Fleet will intercept them, with the help of the Mallister Fleet in Seagard.

Who would win depends. The only other person that’s probably as good as Euron at sea is his niece, Yara. The rest of Dany’s fleet would have to get lucky or outnumber the number of ships in a fleet.

At this point, you’ll probably be like, oh, what if they steer clear from the fleets and enter the North’s weakly defended areas? Okay, that job falls to the castles nearest to their borders. The northernmost castle is the Last Hearth, the seat of House Umber, which is practically already deserted. On the south is Greywater Watch, which has the strongest defense out of all four cardinal directions. On both east and west hold the seat of two branches of House Flint, with Widow’s Watch on the east, and Flint’s Finger on the west (Again, refer to the map above). Once they see Cersei’s fleet, they’ll inform the people in Winterfell.

People tend to forget that Daenerys has the only air support with her dragons. So when she hears about this, she’ll easily burn the enemy fleet with one dracarys away.

That is, if Qyburn hadn’t installed that big-ass crossbow in one of the ships, then she’ll have to be better at dodging them. It gets better if Jon’s willing to help her with Rhaegal, but we’ll never know.

OUTNUMBERED AND SURROUNDED

The map shows the Crownlands and its neighboring kingdoms of the Vale, the Riverlands, the Reach, and the Stormlands. (Source: pinterest.com)

Territories. With Cersei sacrificing Casterly Rock to tighten her grip on the Iron Throne, she technically had also sacrificed the Westerlands, which meant everything north of King’s Landing is Dany’s territory now. With Dany’s army and territories secured, the Crownlands, where King’s Landing is, is technically surrounded by the Vale, the Riverlands, the Reach, and Stormlands. I included the Reach because, well, she roasted the Tarlys and took the remaining men to her cause with a choice, bend the knee or die in a blaze of glory.

Armies. Dany has the combined armies of North, Vale, Riverlands, Westerlands, Reach, Stormlands, and maybe Dorne, plus, the Unsullied; fleets of the North, Vale, Riverlands, and Yara’s fleet from the Iron Islands; and the only air support, her two remaining dragons. Cersei on the other hand, just had the army of the Crownlands, King’s Landing’s City Watch, the queensguard, plus, the Golden Company without elephants; and Euron Greyjoy’s fleet.

I think it’s obvious that Dany outnumbers Cersei’s army, by a lot. And at this point, Dany has enough allies to lay a siege on King’s Landing.

DAENERYS VS. CERSEI

Let’s discuss the difference in the personalities and motives of Daenerys Targaryen and Cersei Lannister.

They both have blond hair, are the only girl among three siblings, and are queens in their own right. But that’s where their similarities end.

Cersei currently sits on the iron throne, and she is loving the perks that came with it. Endless Power, which meant she can do whatever she wants and not care about what people think, like sleeping with her brother. With the news of Dany coming back to Westeros, she sees her as a threat and wanted nothing more than for Dany to disappear so she could stay in power.

Daenerys, however, claims that being the queen of the seven kingdoms is her birthright, as it was the Targaryens that reunited the whole continent of Westeros. Of course, it’s still power, but at the same time, she sees it as a responsibility as well. (With great power, comes great responsibility. Wow, I’m quoting Spiderman now.) She believes that as a queen, it’s her job to take care and provide for the needs of her subjects and even makes an effort to hold court as she listened to their demands. She also thinks that slavery is a big no-no, so she freed them.

The key to becoming a great leader is finding the balance between being loved and feared by your subjects. Cersei is more likely feared than loved. She also doesn’t care about her people, a fact that she admitted to her brother, Tyrion once. Daenerys most likely had the scale tips on balance, with her being equally loved and feared by her subjects. She’s loved because she actually takes time to listen to the people’s needs, and feared because she could take you out using her dragons with one word.

If Dany did lay siege on King’s Landing (again, we aren’t counting her major mad queen moment), the only thing Cersei can use against Dany is the people living within the city walls. Cersei might have heard that Dany’s been freeing slaves in the cities surrounding Slaver’s Bay, and figured out that she has a soft spot for the common folk.

In conclusion, if Daenerys had simply waited out and took her time planning and gathering allies and supplies against Cersei, she would’ve been successful in her campaign to retake Westeros. But then again, we aren’t the writers for this show. In the end, they had Jon battling through himself while he chooses to reply with either of his two favorite lines, She’s my queen or I don’t want it. Or that Sansa and Arya doesn’t like Dany at all and think that she’s a power-hungry, dragon-riding bitch. Or that Bran doesn’t give a f*ck about anything. So, yeah. What do you guys think?

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scrawnytreedemon · 3 years

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Little thing, little thing, Weak and small, I must Admit your pluck impresses Me, but nothing more,

Big eyes, blue eyes, face Like a newborn fawn's, You have no idea what you're Coming up against, and it Shows,

A dance of blades, hardly so, It's like teaching a toddler to Waltz, but I deign myself Nevertheless, because when You rule a world of demons, You get little chance for such Menial prance,

But stay out of my way, you, Run along and play in the Flowers, as befits your kind, I am good, I am kind, but Only for so long, and behind My painted lips, dear, I bear Bloodied teeth,

You, however, are either Stupid, stubborn, or both, You have a word for that Irritant in particular, 'Brave,' I can't help laughing, at the Insistence on bestowing valourance To a trait like that,

But I'm a busy man, a busy, busy Man, and you'll solve yourself Soon enough, either by sense or By impaling yourself, on their Blades or your own, What a lovely thing it'd be, Your sweet ichor drenching so Sacred an edge, defiling both,

So I thought,

But, as destiny would have it, You prove yourself harder to Shake than that, Harder to Lose, like a parasite-- Though I suppose you're more free than That, eh? May-so a gadfly, rather, Yes, I like the sound of that, I must move along, Don't follow me, Not unless you want me to devour You, too, like I did all the other little Boys and girls who strayed too Close,

The weeks pass by with little Complaint, and I'm permitted to Search in peace, I am not, However, a fool, nor to be taken As such, and I know you haven't Stalled, not for a moment, I learned that, a little while ago Now, I think, that you will not Rest, not until you fulfill your Purpose, that purpose so bestowed Upon you, written into your heart Since before time began, That which you mistake for 'love,' My boy, It occurs to me here that we have This alike,

Ha, What idiocy, To compare a snake and a worm,

The insurgence at the bridge Comes like a trip into icy waters, I vow then to have your blood, To gorge myself on every scream, Every drop, until there's nothing Left of you, and my stomach strains, It's all my fault, really: show a man A little mercy and he inevitably thinks Himself your equal! You, I will swallow You, whole or in pieces, Whatever proves least resistent,

Damn it to shit! Pardon my language, But how, oh how, am I supposed to Find that spirit maiden now? Every ray of sunlight seems a flick of Her hair, every glint of dew a sparkle In her eye, the opalescent glimmer of A half-intact Goddess Plume yet Another mirage, yet another mockery Of her manifest glory-- Though perhaps Not so, they were hers once, after all, Either way, I get the feeling you live Like this, too, waiting for magic signs, To see her again, Dear me, it almost sounds like I'm in Love, doesn't it? I'd fall, dear, if just To set you fuming, if only to have you Watch on with horror and a jealousy Greener than your robes, They say Two's company and three's a crowd, And I love a good show, the only Question is, how long will you be Performing?

You dance better, faster, and it sends Me into a rage, You don't even have the goodness to Cast a meaningful glance when I show Myself to you, offer you a sight so lovely, A chance to behold that which is wrought By gods before you die, you spit in the Face of my master and his mother before Her when you harden your gaze as much As you do mine, Tell me hero, what would Din make of you, Turning your nose up at her handiwork? Wrath, indignation so righteous it makes One sick, a retribution so divine it sends Waves of nausea down your spine, Now raise that sword boy! Hit me like You mean it! Surely, boy, you wouldn't Make it so that your goddess chose a Whelp, would you?

Do her justice if not yourself, though I'd Say there's no difference between the Honor of the servant and that of his Master, Glory flows forth as disgrace reflects Back, and you paint a lackadaisical Image, O sacred youth,

You wouldn't need 'bravery', not if You knew your place, not if you Truly bore witness of your security As crusader, paladin, defender just And mighty, There would be no need for this 'Valiant' act, this psuedo-gallance,

I ought not to deign myself to such Lectures, really, I am not your Teacher, and you are not my student, Nor my brother, or my lover, my friend or My son, It's a flaw of mine, really, being so Overcome with setting things straight, It does neither of us good, and I Suppose it must make a pitiful image Of my master, but I cannot help it, Not anymore than your friend can Help speaking of numbers and Probabilities, of walking you through Procedures myriad done a dozen before, I think, sometimes, maybe, if I were of meagre flesh, demonic Or divine need not matter, I'd Be a teacher, You make me ache, a little, I wonder why,

I don't see you, after that, Not face to face, but whenever I can spare time, and you're Out there, clambering among The turf thick and dusty, fingers Knotted in the rope-like vines, I watch-- Distantly, I'd assure, But that would be a lie, and in Truth, there've been many a time Where I'd wait just behind your ear, Where when you fell asleep, Deeming, foolishly so, might I add, That this wretched land would be an Apt place to do so, I'd chase the Monsters from your bedside, Pluck the walltulas from above your Head, and when the weather turned, When a storm would come thundering Down your way, I'd take what I can, And wake you, with many tries, again, Might I add, I don't know how you live, I don't know Why I let you, all I know is that it's Getting late, and you ought to run along, Sky child, Hear your birds can't fly at night,

Time, time, time, even time can be bent, And as I do, you follow me through even Still, How romantic, I'm almost touched, if it Weren't for her and not I, because now Instead it's not only an irritant, but a Detriment, Why, silly boy, do you wish to throw away Your life?

My patience is running out, You're too quick, boy! Things like These take time, can't you see? Can't you understand what it takes To be me?

Up, up, up we go, walking in the air, Dancing in a flamelit sky, No better place for a final greeting, a Final meeting, a final waltz, the Last ballet to end it all, You're in your best clothes, worn And thin, and I my best skin, Bearing my finest diamonds, The clanging of pearly sword against a dermis Jet black and glimmering, We're going off like fireworks, We're brighter than all the stars in The night sky,

You've grown so much since then, Since you were that wide-eyed fawn, Scrambling for purchase in Skyview- Temple, you've actually grown out your Antlers, now, a young buck, pride of the Forest, now, Pride of mine, It makes me ache, And I realise, with horror, That I don't want to fight you,

You have made me soft, so soft,

And that is your greatest offense Of all.

—Waltz of the Gemset Deer

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lloydskywalkers · 3 years

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chrysanthemum

1/2 of the fics i wrote for the 10th anniversary zine!! if you haven’t checked it out yet please do @ninjaneverquit-zine , everyone worked so hard and did such a wonderful job, i’m beyond honored to have been included <3

I may not have been in the fandom since the start, but ninjago means the world to me - it’s gotten me through some of the worst times and pushed further in writing than i thought i’d go, and the fandom’s been a particularly bright light in my life since i’ve joined 💕and of course i can’t not celebrate that by writing for the light of my life lloyd garmadon, so here’s me crying over the garmadons anniversary-style :’D

Garmadon’s son has only been on the earth for twenty-four hours, and he’s only been Lloyd for nineteen, but he already finds himself terrified of the tiny, living thing he cradles in his arms.

“He’s so small,” he tells Misako, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is he supposed to be this small?”

Misako, who’s been answering questions similar to this for the better part of the morning, rolls her eyes. “He’s fine, Garmadon. He was born a little early, that’s all.”

Not as reassured as he should be, Garmadon returns his gaze to his son. He’s sleeping now, deathly still in his arms, and he resists the urge to wave a hand over his tiny face, if only to feel the small puffs of breath he knows must be there. He brushes a wisp of hair from his head instead, marveling at how pale it is.

“He’s got my father’s hair,” he murmurs.

“I don’t care, Garmadon, we’re still not naming him after the man.”

It’s Garmadon’s turn to roll his eyes. “I never said that. I said Montgomery was an unacceptable name to burden my son with.”

“Oh, your son.”

He misses the rest of her retort as Lloyd fidgets briefly, tiny features screwing up as he shifts. A flash of lightning from outside brightens the room, and Garmadon pulls Lloyd closer reflexively. The thunder crack follows soon after, and Garmadon flinches, the thick smell of rain filtering through the open windows. He can already see thick droplets sliding down the hydrangeas Misako’s growing in the windowsill, drowning the pale flowers. It’s been pouring all week, typhoons hitting the coast with gusto as they always do this time of year. Garmadon doesn’t like it — his son is much more suited for the sun and all its brightness, not the grey-skied downpour of thunderclouds.

Lloyd hardly reacts to the downpour, having gone still and silent in his arms once again. Garmadon’s heartbeat quickens. He shouldn’t sleep this much, should he? He doesn’t remember Wu being like that, but he was so young when Wu was born, and it was so long ago, and he can’t feel for Lloyd’s breathing now because the breeze pouring through the window’s too strong, and—

A soft hand sets on his shoulder. “Here,” Misako sighs, guiding Garmadon’s hand to rest gently over Lloyd’s chest. “Feel. That’s a heart, going strong.”

Despite his hesitance, a deep-rooted part of him still desperately afraid his touch might hurt something so small, Garmadon does so. Lloyd’s heartbeat is rapid and as fragile as a bird’s wing, but undeniably there. A small, living thing.

Something warm curls in his chest, and Garmadon thinks he might understand his father’s delight in creation — in things that live.

Not, of course, that his father has ever created anything so perfect as Lloyd, but Garmadon can credit him for having tried.

* * *

It’s weird, having a dad.

Not the concept of having a dad — Lloyd’s bragged enough about being the son of Lord Garmadon to at least get that part. But actually having him here, a living, breathing person who looks at Lloyd and cares—

It’s weird, that’s all. Not that it’s a bad weird.

“You need to wrap your hands, before you go hitting things like that,” Garmadon scolds gently, twisting gauze around Lloyd’s bruised, swollen fingers. “The others can show you how, for training. They should have shown you earlier.”

Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn’t tell his dad that the bruises are less from training, and more from pointlessly banging on bars in an attempt to get on Pythor’s nerves. It sounds silly, compared to the way his dad swept in like a big hero and took out all the snakes in single swipes.

A big hero. Lloyd wonders if the others will ever see him that way, too.

His hand twinges as the gauze pulls tight, and Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath. Garmadon flinches, drawing his hands back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I keep forgetting — you’re so small.”

Lloyd makes a face at that. Small? “I’m not that short,” he grumbles. “I’ve grown lots.”

“Of course you have,” Garmadon amends. “I only—”

His expression twists, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. There’s that look again.

“I’m sorry,” Garmadon repeats, sounding downtrodden.

Lloyd purses his lips. For all his bragging, he’s never really thought much about whether he likes his family or not. It’s hard, when you don’t have one around to like. Watching the way his dad worries and his uncle walks around all stone-faced now, Lloyd’s not sure he should like it. He likes Uncle Wu, of course, and he loves his dad, but—

He hates the way they all walk around like they’re preparing for a funeral. His dad’s funeral, his funeral, whichever it ends up being. It’s stupid. Lloyd’s lived on the streets for months, and in Darkley’s even longer. He wouldn’t have minded walking around like he’s doomed for misery then.

But now? When he’s got people who care, and a family?

Lloyd sets his mouth stubbornly. He doesn’t know much about destiny, or the prophecy, but he knows he’s not about to lose this. Not when he’s come so far, when he’s so close to having — to being someone worth having around.

No funerals, Lloyd promises himself. He can see this prophecy through — they both can, the two of them. You have to be alive to be a family, right?

“It’s okay,” he finally replies. “I’m alright, dad.”

And he’s gonna stay that way.

* * *

When Garmadon had thought about the final battle in the past, he’d expected the darkness. The destruction, the pain.

He hadn’t expected to survive.

“So you’re really giving up fighting, then?”

Glancing up at Lloyd, taller now yet still small enough to not quite fit his bright golden gi, Garmadon finds survival a very welcome surprise.

“Yes,” he says, returning his gaze to the flowerbeds Misako’s helped him put in the monastery garden. They’re coming along well, despite the recent fits of bad weather, and they do a fine job of making the monastery look homey. Unthreatening.

He hopes, at least.

“I think I’ve done enough fighting, for my part,” he continues. He gives Lloyd a wry look. “I’m not sure Ninjago could take much more of it from me, anyways.”

“I dunno,” Lloyd says. “It’s been getting pretty boring.”

Garmadon snorts. “Boring is something you should appreciate, son. Excitement isn’t always good.”

“No, but it isn’t bor—dull,” Lloyd mutters, crouching down to study the flowerbeds. Garmadon shakes his head in reply, sighing. He remembers being his son’s age once, yearning for the next thrill, even if it feels ages away now.

He’s got a whole lecture on appreciating the quiet moments on the tip of his tongue, too, when Lloyd speaks up again.

“We used to have these flowers at Darkley’s,” he says, tilting his head as he studies them. “Some of the boys tore them all up and threw ‘em at the window, but they were pretty before that."

Garmadon bites the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. His expression softens as he spots the gentle way Lloyd handles the flower, carefully pushing it back to place. It never fails to baffle him how someone as gentle as Lloyd could’ve come from his beginnings, much less from Garmadon, but he treasures it.

“Snapdragons,” Garmadon says, instead. “Fitting flowers, for our family.”

Lloyd looks at him curiously, eyes bright with the light of suspicion, and Garmadon is tempted to tell him the full truth, then and there. But Lloyd is still so young, innocent and naive and barely come to terms with his place as the Green Ninja. The truth of their blood is a heavy one, and Garmadon can’t find it in himself to lay it on Lloyd’s shoulders today. No, his son is happy among humans, so a human he’ll let him be. Someday he’ll know he’s more, closer to the dragons he admires than he realizes, but not quite yet.

Miraculously, Garmadon has the time, now.

“If you stay after dinner, I can show you how they’re planted,” he offers. Lloyd nods, and Garmadon’s smile widens.

Destruction is in his blood, and he’d be blind to say it isn’t in Lloyd’s as well. Power is power, whether it’s bright and beautiful or stained in darkness, and Lloyd could shatter mountains as well as move them, if he wanted.

But Lloyd never moves to pull the flowers up, only watches them rustle slightly in the breeze, leaving them to grow a little bigger, a little brighter. Garmadon, for his part, watches his son, all bright eyes and the burnished gold hair of his grandfather, and reminds himself that one needs not be a master of creation to appreciate life.

* * *

Lloyd likes to think of himself as an optimist, for the most part. He’s at least good at pretending that he is one, with how many times he’s had to convince himself it’s worth it to get back up.

Right now, he’s trying to remember how he’s ever managed to convince himself, because this time, getting back up seems impossible.

Lloyd used to wonder, back during Morro, how far you had to push yourself to break like that. How far someone had to push you, to truly splinter. He thinks he might have found his answer, though his is less of a bitter hatred and more of an empty abyss of hurt.

It hurts to breathe. That would be a sign that something’s wrong, if Lloyd didn’t already have about sixty other signs that he’s in trouble. But the breathing thing is sticking out to him especially, right now. His lungs feel like they’re scraping against his ribs every time he tries to draw breath, bruised and stinging, and there’s a deep ache in his chest that grows worse by the minute.

He tries swallowing again, sand scraping down his throat as he does. He hisses out a breath instead of coughing, almost frightened that his lungs will give out completely if he does.

He says almost, because Lloyd isn’t sure what emotions he’s got left to feel anymore.

A lie. Pain starts numb, sometimes.

Lloyd’s chest spasms as he sucks in another breath, and he wishes the desert would swallow him whole. His father — his real father, who pushed him from the Cursed Realm and told him to return to light and living — would want him to stand back up. He’d beg him to, stress the importance of continuing on, of persevering. Stuff like that.

But if it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t have to get back up in the first place. If it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t be—

His eyes burn, stinging as he squeezes them tightly shut, and he tells himself it’s the sand.

Instead, he focuses on the ragged beat of his heart. He only knows it’s there because his chest throbs in pain with every pulse, but he latches onto the feeling and holds tight.

Still alive, he tells himself, even as every bit of him sings in agony and his lungs scream at him to stop. He’s still alive. His powers aren’t answering him but they will, he knows they will, he can’t disappear like he did with Morro. He can’t — he can’t leave it, not like this, not with his father — not like this. If he can’t stop Harumi, if he can’t save his father, if he can’t do anything else at all, he can at least do this.

Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive.

He’s never realized how long the nights out here are, before.

* * *

After everything, the light dies down and the Oni vanish, and Lloyd’s heart stops.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Garmadon, who isn’t even sure his own heart beats now, but it is.

It’s not supposed to stop. There was a promise made, somewhere, to keep it beating.

It restarts before he has the chance to process what that even means, and the swell of relief is so foreign, Garmadon leaves before he even has the chance to ask Lloyd what he’d seen. He thinks to himself, that will be the end of it. The end of whatever tentative connection he has with the boy, whatever frayed and tattered threads of something they once had. Better to cut them away for good.

Lloyd’s not one to let things die, though. Garmadon should know that at least, the boy tells him.

“I know you like repeating yourself,” he mutters. “Letting go is different.”

“That’s not what this is,” Lloyd huffs back.

Garmadon rolls his eyes, the two of them drifting aimlessly down the Ninjago City garden paths. It’s secluded, the rest of the city still recovering, and Garmadon’s grateful for the quiet, even if it is awkward. Building any kind of bridge with the boy is difficult, if only because Lloyd stresses that they’re rebuilding a bridge, and Garmadon has no memory of any bridge to begin with.

He’s still sifting through jumbled emotions, sorting out what his place in this world was and is supposed to be, but he knows that the word son slips easier from his mouth than daughter ever did, so he figures he’s on the right path, at least.

“It’s about—” Lloyd pauses, his expression contorting. “It’s about surviving, I guess,” he grinds out.

Garmadon’s mouth curls into a grin. “Really. You were quite…vocal, that it was about more than that.”

“It is, it’s just—” Lloyd cuts off again, stopping them in a half-ruined section of garden still littered with remnants of concrete. “It’s the payoff, you know? Here.”

He bends down, brushing dust from a surviving scattering of flowers. He gently touches the edge of a petal, pushing the flower head toward the sun. “See?” he says. “After all that, it’s still alive.”

Garmadon stares at the delicate edges of the petal, smaller and more fragile than any of the buildings that crumbled beneath his rule. At Lloyd’s nod, he stretches his own fingers out toward it, his hand impossibly dark and calloused next to his son’s own small one. But he brushes his fingers over the petal edge nonetheless, almost surprised that it doesn’t decay beneath his touch. It’s soft, he notes, like the fragile skin of a newborn. Odd that it should’ve survived, out of everything else that perished.

“So it is,” he says, carefully. Lloyd says nothing, but there’s a ghost of a smile around his lips. They must make an odd sight, the pair of them crouched in the dirt in the recovering garden. There’s no use in sitting here and looking at the flower, no explanation Garmadon can offer himself, but he doesn’t leave. He can take the moment, he decides, to appreciate what Lloyd is trying to show him.

They too, after all, are still alive.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #garmadon #my fic #oh nO im getting emotional now

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d-andilion · 3 years

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peace

febuwhump day 28: “you have to let me go”

(geraskier, major character death - not graphic, ghosts/spirits, hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, 1.9k, ao3 link in notes)

It is probably in poor taste to spend a great deal of time imagining how your loved ones are going to die. Geralt has never been able to kick the habit. Understandable, he thought, given his line of work. Death stalked his steps and always would; such was the nature of the path he walked. The people he loved paid the price for walking beside him.

Jaskier’s death has plagued him the most over the years. His foolish, foppish, clumsy, careless, danger magnet of a bard. His fellow wolves were Witchers; their deaths were disparagingly predictable. Yennefer was a sorceress; she’d probably outlive him a dozen times over. Ciri was, well, Ciri. But Jaskier was only human. Frustratingly, fragilely human. His death was always almost certain to preclude Geralt’s, and as for its cause, the possibilities were endless.

Perhaps his insatiable sex drive would get him. He’d fuck one nobleman’s wife too many and lose his head for it. Or a fisherman’s daughter. Or a blacksmith’s son. They were all equally likely in truth.

Or maybe his infernal mouth would get him into trouble it couldn’t get him out of. Jaskier always did have a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person. Sometimes he just did it for a good laugh, the bastard.

Could be that just being human would do him in. He could eat a bad cut of beef, or smack his head on a rock, or drown during a drunken swim, or be bitten by a snake, or get run over by a speeding carriage. Humans died absurdly mundane and at times downright stupid deaths all the time.

Even so, Geralt always knew that the most likely course of events would be for Jaskier to die at his side, in his care. Jaskier would get too close or move too slowly and Geralt wouldn’t be able to save him. They’d had more close calls than Geralt would ever care to admit and the odds of it increased ten-fold with every year that passed.

Geralt made his peace with that fact a long time ago. He’d tried to stop Jaskier for his own good more times than he could count, but it never made a lick of difference. Geralt couldn’t make his choices for him and he’d grown begrudgingly fond of him over time. Fondness turned to friendship, and with it came love. What kind, they never felt any need to say, but it was there and more real than either of them.

In the end, Jaskier surprised him as only he could. He didn’t die in any of the ways Geralt’s morbid mind cooked up for him. He went peacefully, at a well-deserved age surrounded by friends with a teaspoon of poppy milk to ease the way. Geralt didn’t make it in time to say goodbye.

It was an illness, the same slow-going one that took Jaskier’s father and his father before him. He’d known he was sick a long while before he told anyone, even Geralt. Didn’t want to spoil what time he had left, or so he said. Even through obvious weakness and pain, he assured Geralt that he was content, that he’d lived a good life. That he’d loved and been loved in return which was more than any man could ask for. He sent Geralt back to the path with a promise to summon him before things were too terribly bad.

But the sickness burned through him more quickly than any of his physicians could predict. By the time a bird reached Geralt, it was too late. He rode hard for three days and three nights, but all he could do was hold his bard’s pale hand as he drew his last breaths. He didn’t stay for the burial. He snatched a few keepsakes before he left town, including Jaskier’s lute.

Geralt found Ciri first. She cried into his shoulder and he rubbed her back gently until she calmed down. They caught up and reminisced, trading tales about their ridiculous bard. There were more tears and even more laughter, but a small part of Geralt felt at peace when they parted.

He left her with a keepsake; one of Jaskier’s old songbooks, the one he’d carried when he first met Ciri. She’d helped him compose a few of the rhymes in those pages and drawn him a funny picture or two. She clutched the little leatherbound journal to her chest and disappeared through a glowing portal.

Yennefer had already heard the news by the time Geralt managed to find her. She offered her condolences and he accepted them with a low hum. He presented her with one of Jaskier’s rings, an intricate silver band with a large violet gemstone. He always used to say that it reminded him of her.

Geralt never did understand the odd blend of catty pettiness and profound respect that existed between Jaskier and Yennefer, but he knew there was some kind of tenderness there; something like friendship, though neither of them would dare admit it. Yennefer took the ring with a sad smile and slipped on her middle finger. She didn’t cry, that wasn’t like her, but Geralt saw a sheen in her eyes and the barely perceptible tremble of her lip for just a second.

Yennefer asked him to stay awhile, but he declined. He wasn’t ready to stop moving just yet. Stillness brought too many thoughts he didn’t care to contend with. He rode away the next morning with no particular direction in mind and the elven lute strapped to his saddle.

Weeks turned to months and Geralt kept riding. He didn't stop for more than a day or so if he could help it. And always with the lute in his possession, unconcerned for its bulk and impracticality. He considered selling it or gifting it or simply returning it to the elves, but as soon as such thoughts came, they soured in his mind and turned his stomach. It was all he had of Jaskier now and he couldn’t seem to part with it.

Green of summer gave way to the colors of autumn before long. It was on one of these early fall evenings when his campfire was just becoming necessary for warmth as well as food, that Geralt heard it the first time. Low and sweet, barely audible even to his ears, someone sang. It was only the span of a note, maybe two, then gone.

Geralt pricked his ears and listened close for a long while, but the voice did not return that night, nor the next. It was more than a week before he heard it again, just as soft as before. He could hardly be sure it was even real, that he hadn’t imagined it all. But it came again a few nights later. And again.

Samhain was approaching, Geralt knew, but he’d never put much stock in such things as the veil and life beyond. And yet, as the day grew nearer, the voice grew louder and more frequent. Within a week of the feast day, Geralt was all but certain he’d heard his own name called out in the night.

When Samhain finally did arrive, Geralt was ready; fully armed and armored with potions well-stocked. He let his fire burn low and the darkness encroach upon him, broken only by a bright moon above. He waited.

“Geralt,” called the voice, clear as day and unmistakable. Geralt turned this way and that in search of some sort of entity, but he was alone in the clearing. It called again, “Geralt.”

Geralt froze in his tracks and his blood ran cold. He knew that voice. Intimately, he knew that voice, better than his own. He turned around painfully slowly and his sword slipped out of his hand to the forest floor.

Jaskier.

He was pale white and transparent like water, but it was him. Young as the day Geralt first met him, but his eyes reflected the joys and pains of every day he’d lived. He smiled and Geralt knew better than to approach such a specter unarmed, but the only part of his mind that functioned at the moment was the bit that ached for his bard. Jaskier held out a hand for him and Geralt reached out, but his arm fell right through. The only evidence it was there at all was the gust of cold Geralt felt even through his glove.

Jaskier’s smile turned sad. “Hello, Geralt,” he said. His voice was unchanged, exactly how Geralt remembered it.

“W– what are you doing here?” It was all he could think to say.

“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” Jaskier in life would have strung out the sentence into a dozen, but this Jaskier seemed content with the words as they were. There was none of his usual restless energy now. He was calm. At peace.

Geralt swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “I miss you,” he croaked.

Jaskier stepped closer into Geralt’s space. Close enough for Geralt to feel his warmth, had there been any to feel. “I know you do, my love. But I’m afraid our time has run out. You have to let me go.”

“I can’t."

“Yes you can,” said Jaskier with ironclad certainty. “You’re so strong, even stronger than you know. You have so much life still to live.”

Geralt watched as Jaskier rested a hand on his chest. It felt like ice against him through all the leather and cloth, but he would bear it forever if only he could. Jaskier smiled again, smaller now, something just for them.

“I have no regrets.” Jaskier’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You were the joy of my life and to love you was a privilege. There isn’t a single day I would change. Remember that, and let me rest.”

Geralt stared at the specter and tried to commit Jaskier’s face to memory exactly as it was; completely content, no pain or wear from the world. His last glimpse. He couldn’t bring himself to speak but he nodded his acceptance.

Jaskier began to fade almost immediately, slipping away like sand through Geralt’s fingers. There was nothing left but a faint glow in the air, but Geralt still heard him, low and sweet, “Goodbye, Geralt.”

Geralt was alone again when he replied through hitched breath. “Goodbye.”

He burned the lute at daybreak.

There was a field of wildflowers nearby and he picked as many as he could; daisies, dandelions, primroses, wild carrots, and every buttercup he saw. He filled the instrument with the flowers and stuck what was left under the strings along its neck. He removed a single string before he put it all to the flame and wrapped it tightly around the hilt of his sword, just above the crossguard and Renfri’s broach.

Geralt stood vigil until there was nothing left but ash. His chest ached much in the same way it had for months now, but it was easier somehow to bear. He felt like he had after he and Ciri had talked.

At peace.

He made his way back to Jaskier’s resting place eventually. They buried him on a hill covered in wildflowers with the wind and the sun and the sky above him. From there, even human ears could hear the crash of waves in the distance. He always had loved the coast.

more from febuwhump

#omg can you believe this is the last day!!!!#more celebration forthcoming but yay!#febuwhump #febuwhumpday28 #my fic #gj fic #mine #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt #jaskier

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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 3 years

Text

Bifrost Blues Chapter 1: The Elder Tree

Fandom: Thor (movies), MCU Rating: T Warnings: None Pairing: Loki/OC Summary: According to the rules, no Jotun shall ever set foot in Asgard. According to the rules, no Prince of Asgard shall befriend a Jotun. According to the rules Rules were made to be broken. Written for @flufftober2021

Day Two+ >> Read on Ao3+

Prompt 1: winning a teddy for the other

graphic by the author with @ourdiningroom

1065 AD

It had been a terrible day.

First, Thor had stolen all of the hveteboller at breakfast, leaving Loki with nothing but eggs and apples (which were wholesome food, but boring, boring, boring). Then Thor had won every single foot race, no matter what fearsome illusion Loki had created to distract him. Either Thor was getting better at telling fantasy from reality, or he was so stupidly brave that he didn’t care when an undead draugar was in his path. Loki clearly needed more practice with his illusions.

The final straw had been after luncheon, when Thor had run off with his friends to explore the forest at the foot of the mountains. Loki had been right behind them, only stopping into his room for a few essentials (a book to read, and a book to take notes in, and another book in case he finished the first one). But by the time he’d reached the courtyard, they’d been gone.

“Stupid Thor,” Loki muttered as he wandered through the forest alone. “I hope he falls into a cave, and the Jörmungandr gets him, and we never see him again.”

Nightfall was coming fast. Loki would be in the worst kind of trouble if he did not return to the castle before then. He continued along the forest path anyway. What did it matter if he were sent to his room without dinner when he returned? It wasn’t as if anyone would miss him.

The path he was following took a sharp curve, ending at the base of a mighty elder tree. The wide trunk was covered with branches, perfectly spaced for climbing. Loki eagerly started up the tree. For a time, the irritations of the day faded as he simply enjoyed the feeling of being young and agile.

He was halfway up the tree when he caught sight of a long white skirt above him. The girl wearing it was clinging to the tree trunk, her face pressed against the wood. He tilted his head, studying her, then scurried up the tree until he was level with her.

“Are you a huldra?” he asked, more curious than wary. Maybe her tail was hidden underneath her skirt.

“No.” Her voice was tense and quiet.

“Then what are you doing up here? This is a terrible place for a nap.”

She lifted her head off the tree trunk to glare at him. “I’m not sleeping.”

He would have teased her further, but he was completely distracted by her dark blue skin. “A Jotun! How did you—you shouldn’t be here.”

“I have as much right to be here as anybody else. Are you the king that you order people about so?”

Loki was not afraid of monsters. He narrowed his eyes at the Jotun girl. “I may not be the king, but I am his son. I’ll order anyone I like.”

“You’re small for a prince.”

That was funny, coming from a Frost Giant shorter than he was. “And you’re small for a Jotun.”

“Just leave me alone.”

He grinned as she looked away from his glare. He could outstare anyone. Except father.

“No. Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.”

She huffed in exasperation. “If you must know, I’m trying to rescue my little sister’s stuffed dreki. An Imp thought it would be funny to steal it and leave it at the top of a tree in Asgard. I wouldn’t have come after it, but it’s her favorite toy, and she won’t go to sleep without it.”

Loki glanced upwards. The dreki was dangling from a branch by its twisted tail several feet above them.

“It’s right there,” he said, pointing. “If that’s all you’ve come for, take it and go.”

“I can’t,” she hissed through her teeth.

What a strange girl. “Of course you can. Just go and get it.”

The girl mumbled something he couldn’t make out.

“What was that? Speak up when you talk to royalty.”

“I said I’m afraid of heights. I’m…stuck.”

Loki laughed. How could anyone be afraid of heights? “Is that all? There’s nothing to be afraid of. Look!”

He swung himself from one tree branch to the other, climbing the tree effortlessly. The Jotun girl gasped, which only encouraged him to move more recklessly. With a final jump, he had the dreki in his hand. Then he was swinging back down to where the girl still clung to the tree.

“There’s nothing to fear. I’ve got your sister’s toy,” he said.

“I—“ she began in a shaky voice.

There was no sense in letting her talk herself into more fear. Loki looked her square in the eye, then blinked in surprise.

“You’re eyes—they’re brown. I thought Jotun eyes were red,” he said.

“Our eyes are all different colors. They only turn red when we’re fighting,” she explained. “Everybody knows that.”

He filed this information away in case it proved useful later. “We’re not that far from the bottom. Keep your eyes on me. We’ll climb down together.”

She seemed conflicted, but there was no other choice. Loki kept the pace slow and steady as they worked their way down the trunk. She did not look away from him once.

“I didn’t know Jotuns had toys,” he said. Talking would keep her mind too busy for fear.

“Why wouldn’t we? Don’t Asgardians have toys?” she replied.

“Of course! We have the best toys in the Nine Realms. Do you have books too?”

The fear in her eyes was turning into annoyance. Good. Anger was better than fear.

“Yes, what a question,” she said.

“I beg your pardon, Maid of Jotunheim. According to our history your Realm is somewhat…unrefined.”

“Unrefined?” Her brown eyes flashed golden. “We’re just as good as any of the other Realms. Just because Asgard doesn’t know our ways doesn’t make them unrefined. Why—“

“We’ve reached the ground,” Loki said, cutting of her ranting. “Your eyes change color when you’re angry, did you know?”

He held the dreki out to her, hardly able to contain his laughter. She was angry with him but, as he’d rescued both her sister’s toy and her own self from the tree, she could hardly own it. Without a word, she snatched the dreki and started hurrying off into the forest.

“Maid of Jotunheim, aren’t you going to thank me?” he called after her.

She paused in her flight and turned back to him, her manners as pretty as any Asgardian courtier. “Thank you, Your Highness. I am in your debt.”

“Then give me your name, that I will know from whom to collect it.”

Her anger flared back to life; her golden eyes and dark red hair were fire against the deep blue of her skin.

“My name is Angrboda Galarrsdatter,” she said fiercely.

“And mine is Loki Odinson. Good day to you, Angrboda. I won’t forget.”

She growled as she whirled away from him and ran into the forest. He watched her until he could no longer see the white of her dress or the red of her hair. Then he started back towards the palace, whistling his victory to the night birds as he went.

End Notes:

Hveteboller: Norwegian cardamom sweet buns.

The elder tree is associated with Freya, the Norse goddess of love.

Draugar are something like zombies.

The Jörmungandr, or the Midgard Serpent, is an giant snake.

Huldra are forest spirits with cow’s tails.

Dreki: dragon

In Norse Mythology, Angrboda is Loki’s Jotun wife. For the purposes of this fic, Jotuns are not monsters (whatever the Asgardians say they are).

Day Two+ >>

#flufftober2021 #loki x original female character #loki laufeyson #marvel cinematic universe #thor #inmyownlittlecorner5

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spiritualnightmoon · 3 years

Text

Psychotic: Part 1

“Mom!”Young William Grossman exclaimed as he desperately opened the door of the apartment, looking around with great concern. It did not take long to feel a completely metallic smell in the environment, causing his skin to crawl when he noticed that the floor was full of blood, which formed a somewhat disproportionate path to the kitchen that was with the door closed.

>> Please ... God, please let her not have fallen into his clutches ... << He thought as he swallowed a bit of saliva and a cold sweat showed on his forehead.

In complete silence, he took out the knife he had decided to carry since that madness had started, from his pocket had a rather shaky pulse, beginning to walk stealthily.

His heart was pounding, was that last video by that "The Crooked Man" really true? He had not seen more than the clown approaching his beloved mother from behind with a small wooden mallet with black white stripes, noticing that it was bloody which, sure because that he had smashed it on the heads of several people, ending with the black screen and a few blank words that said, "It's time for the weasel to stop running, Will."

With great care, when he reached the door, he supported his ear in silence to listen to some movement related to the clown, since somehow, he managed to learn certain things that he did and at what moment he moved to catch him, but he never expected what would listen.

There was a muffled moan, to be more specific, a feminine moan but that carried pain, so without having a cold mind he kicked the door open to find a rather bizarre scene: his mother was tied tightly to an old chair made of oak as well as a gag that was beginning to bruise him due to the pressure with which they had put it, in addition to showing that his lower lip had been broken due to a slap. His blond hair that was always neatly arranged was dirty and stained with blood from the blow that the threat had given him, his garments were torn on his arms, legs, and stomach with their respective cuts in the skin. On the table were the inert bodies of the two canaries that she had cared for years, having their sockets empty and their tongues stretched out as far as possible from their beaks, as well as how they had taken the time to screw all their organs as if were the hats that the sultans used to wear on their little heads.

On the left side of the chair where his mother was, there was said clown with a sharp smile from ear to ear, as if it were a child who was showing his father some forms of plasticine that he had made in school in art hour. His white eyes were fixed on the blue orbs of the young adult, while his crooked index finger played dangerously with the woman's chin, noting that with the long nails that it had, he had made the cuts in her body without problems.

"Oh, finally the little weasel has approached the monkey who wanted to have fun ... Although, well, the monkey had to take it out on mother weasel for not being able to socialize with her baby." something funny, as if what was happening was just an innocent game. Seeing that the young blue-eyed man was raising the razor, he gave a loud laugh that made both victims tremble a bit before a muffled scream was heard from his mother as his hair was pulled back, giving him a better view of his neck to the young man, that if he did something, his hand would not shake to open his throat as if he were a fish. "After all, we don't want this beautiful evening to be ruined due to one of my fingers acting like a can opener for her neck, do we?"

"P-Please ... L-Leave her alone, you're not interested in her. ”He barely managed to say, lowering the knife a little, having his eyes teary because his mother's life was on his hands, and it all depended on how he handled the matter with this one.

"You're right, this bitch is not of my interest, but yours. You know? It has cost me a lot to be able to make you stay and listen to my words, even when I tried to be as "diplomatic" as possible but you always ran away when you saw me approach you. I don't understand why humans only pay attention to one when there is something of value that is at risk." form his other hand relax the grip of the hair and pat her on the head, implying that if he cooperated, he would too.

"W-Why? ... What do you want from me ?!" He managed to say while raising his voice more and more, due to the frustration of various factors, which were filling his patience with the lack of sleep.

"Tch, tch, little Grossman ... You lower the tone of your voice because otherwise, I'll make her raise hers." He said showing an angry smile, while slowly pulling the woman's hair back to the point that it seemed to be removing your scalp little by little, being something that was shown in the moans of pain on her part. After a few moments, he let go of her completely to rest one of his elbows on her head and smile a bit calmer.— As for the other, what I want from you is a little bit of your time since I must tell you something very important..."

"S-Something very important? ... W-What is it? ..." He asked while keeping the dagger with the edge down, trembling slightly since if he had done such things to those poor canaries, if he did getting angry could do much worse to the hostage.

"Well ... have you ever wondered where your father went, kid?"

"I-I only know that he left, leaving my mother alone and ..." He managed to say before starting to hear the aberration of laughter and a blow on the table, causing the carcasses of the birds to jump slightly, leaving them the "hat" made from your intestines.

"Ahh ... Really, angry women are snakes ... They simply let themselves be carried away by their stupid emotions ..." Said the clown as he took one of the aforementioned cheeks to squeeze it as if it were a little girl. Your father, Thomas, was a great man, Will. He had to abandon them due to a great family secret, which goes from Grossman to Grossman, something that unfortunately the children of this offspring do not have to be part of until they are of age. deep way, noticing something serious, no longer than mocking way with which one used to see and hear.

"W-What do you mean? ..." He asked again as his eyes became more and more watery. What did her absent father have to do with a being of that scale? The only thing he knew from his mother's mouth is that he was a man who had some anxiety as well as psychosis and, therefore, had to go to a psychiatrist for a long time.

"Well, it's a long story so you should take a seat," he said before snapping his fingers and making one of the chairs creep up to the boy, who still didn't trust any of them being actions. He just shrugged, then looked back at him. “This goes back two centuries, to be specific, to the year 1800, a London on Christmas Eve. Your great-great-great-grandfather, Isaac Lee Grossman was a very unfortunate child, his family had been poor for several generations since all men ended up being shitty alcoholics, in addition to being abusers with their wives and children, and in this case, not was the exception. Because he had to work as a newspaper boy or shoe shiner, he couldn't have friends because of not having time, so while his father was beating his mother, between his sheets he asked the angels to They conceived someone with whom he could have a break ... "He replied before having a somewhat lost look as he caressed the woman's head a little, as if he remembered something profound" ... And they created me.

Will looked at him roughly, for although there were things that were considered bizarre today, the clown completely surpassed them: his sharp teeth, his careless hands, his unfriendly voice, and his white eyes made anyone would mistrust him. Noticing his gaze, he laughed lightly.

"Don't think I always looked like this, kid. I was more colorful and much less son of a bitch. Continuing with the story that brings us together today, we were both very close, and one of my many skills was that I could adapt and develop to his mood swings as a personality. It was three beautiful months of fun until his father started to get more violent than normal, so his mother decided to take him to the orphanage in the hope that he would have a better life. He couldn't take me, so he promised that when I was old enough, he would come home even if he had been adopted, so he asked me to get into the music box the angels had kept me with. Obeying his words, I got into that little place and faithfully waited for 13 years, until in the end the inevitable happened: in one of the fits of rage, the bastard of his father ended up killing your grandfather's mother, causing that the policemen sentenced him to hang, leaving the house completely alone since no one was interested in the place because of its poor condition and that it was not a place to do anything either, besides being the poorest area of London. I was completely alone for a few days until I heard someone enter the place, being an adult Isaac, but like my colors, his soul had lost its essence because he had lost the woman he loved, falling into it. vice that her father and trying to forget her, was with other women until ... One day, a young woman with golden hair like the sun and a smile that melted any man's heart arrived at the place, helping him up the rustic stairs to the bedroom. They both started chatting and even though he was drunk, it was quite nice until a kiss was present. Although I did not know what the hell he was doing at the time, it caught my attention as he progressed from caressing her cheek to descending to her legs under her salmon-colored dress, but the girl refused even though this he insisted carefully, to the point that her patience ran out, giving him a strong slap and ..." He said while showing anxiety of happiness, making a morbid smile.

"S-So what? ... W-What happened? ..." He managed to ask while swallowing some saliva. From what he sensed, his ancestor could have committed a sexual crime.

"... He turned her body into a beautiful human chair ... Her soft skin was the padding, her bones were the base of the chair, and her fucking skull was the decoration for the top. That took several hours, in addition to certain parts of the chair, the skin was hanging a bit, but it was a beautiful work of art. ”He answered licking his sharp teeth as if that had been something so exquisite to see as a banquet. Mother and son closed their eyes in disgust at having imagined the shape of the poor girl's body, he finished. "I had never been exposed to such violence, but it was something that stimulated both of us and made Isaac know how to regain consciousness. his shattered life, beginning to massacre all his enemies as well as his children, giving them a slow death. One day, finally on the shelf where my music box was sheltered, it had fallen due to rotting wood due to humidity. Your grandfather went up again to where was his old room to look at the cause of the noise, coming across my discolored box after so much time, and out of nostalgia, he began to move the handle ... When I left it after the song "Pop ! Goes The Weasel "reached his climax, he was just as surprised as when we first met, only this time he was intimidated by my new look."

"A-And what did you do when you saw that I was afraid of you? ..."The blue-eyed asked again, keeping the dagger glued to his leg in case it were to pounce. Something inside said that at any moment he would do something to her since his expression was a mixture of seriousness and some anger with a hint of meditation on what he would say.

"I must admit I was very infuriated by the fact that he thought it was just a figment of his imagination, but ... you know? He was the person I loved the most, so I tried as much as possible that anger did not dominate me, to start a loooong conversation like in the old days. ”He answered giving a melancholic smile, showing a certain warmth that he had not shown before but that in a few seconds he disappeared to continue. "From that day on, I continued with the mission of my existence: to make Isaac happy, helping to get rid of the bastards who hurt him and managing to stay with the woman he loved, giving me the gift of having a little Grossman under my tutelage ... For what each generation that has passed, I take care that they respect his last wishes: that they continue with the tradition of being the best assassins of the decade." He replied before returning to stare at it.

At that moment, the silence was present in the place as Will took a seat and looked at the floor seriously. Did your entire paternal family have to follow the clown? Had everyone suffered such extreme harassment to the point of going crazy? He looked up again to see his mother's eyes, which reflected pain and sadness as if he had understood something. The wrinkles that were beginning to appear on his face, the gray hairs that were also taking initiative in the roots of his hair because old age was coming more and more into his life ... He owed many things to that woman, already that she had always helped him when he hit rock bottom, even more so because of the last love affair that was a complete disaster even though she was exhausted from work. In silence, he got up from the chair as he approached the clown, who grabbed the woman's blond hair tightly and with the claw of his index finger placed it on her throat, slightly prodding her causing her to complain to keep the threat in force until that he noticed how the boy was half a meter from them to do something that none of the older people thought he would do: he let the knife slide from his trembling fingers to fall on the wooden floor and immediately afterward, raise his gaze with haggard orbs and completely lacking in happiness.

"From what I can guess, all this time you have tried to make me know my paternal roots and follow in the footsteps of my grandfather like those who followed him, right?" Asked the boy, not even looking at the eyes of his mother, who begged him between muffled sobs not to do it, which made the clown pull his hair more sharply before nodding in response, showing himself very seriously. "I'll do what you tell me, as long as you leave mom out of this."

At that moment, everything returned to tense silence. The being was somewhat thoughtful by the boy's words, in addition to being the first that had not tried to attack him being so close, while the woman wanted to make eye contact with her son, trying to somehow make him come to his senses.

>> Please ... Don't do that ... I don't want to do this either, but I don't want to lose you as my best friend Mark because of him << He thought, pressing his lips together to try not to show the painful feeling that it was taking over her heart.

"Fine, child," the clown finally said as he gently slid his claw from the throat to the hostage's chin and stared into the young adult's eyes. "But once you left this apartment, you won't see her again or else ... "He said while making a not-so-deep cut in the woman's right temple, causing her to squeal a bit." Got it? "He asked with notable seriousness while he saw how he nodded in response.

Once the terms of the deal had been made clear, he let go of the blond hair to reach out his long arm and lead it to the kitchen counter to hand the boy a very old wooden mask painted white, which looked like the Venetian carnival masks of the Doctors of the Black Death. With some hesitation, he looked at the monochrome clown, as if searching for some explanation.

"That was the mask that your grandfather Isaac used for his massacres and that has been passed from generation to generation." He replied while gesturing for him to try it, which he did with great care as it was a relic. When the mask was finally on his face, a big smile was present in the being before approaching the young man and putting his hand on his shoulder. "It's time to go and start your life of crime, Will." He said before turning around. her head towards the woman with a wince of victory when she saw that several tears ran down her sore cheeks. "Don't worry, weasel mom. I will take good care of your baby. ”He added, giving a tone of responsibility as he cut the gag from her mouth a little so that she would alert the neighbors even though they would think she was a lunatic like several mothers from whom she had taken their children.

When she had managed to remove the cloth from her mouth, from one blink to another, there were no traces of the monochromatic clown or her son, only the corpses of the canaries and the wounds on his body.

The woman's screams of pain were present throughout the apartment, causing neighbors to call the police with some fear. There was no worse pain for a mother than her son was in constant danger because of having something in his blood that had always brought trouble to all subsequent generations of that man who had asked the angels for something positive.

#creeps #horror #laughing jack #crowman #will grossman #creepypasta #creepypastas #frankie #isaac grossman #my writing #psychotic #serie #snuffbomb

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Ducktales: Terror of the Terra-Firmians! (Lena Retrospective) (Commission by WeirdKev27): Launchpad Looses his Last Brain Cell and I Loose My Patience

Welcome back Weblena Warriors to the second part of my look at everyone’s favorite Emo Teen Shadow Lesbian Duck... and probably the only one but hey, semantics, Shadow Into Light, which was made possible by viewers like you, the ultra humanite and a commission from WeirdKev27. Picking up where we left off, we have our first episode that has a different intended order than airing order.

As most of you probably remember, but some of you who joined later might not be aware of the broadcast order for the first half of season one is, in the academic sense, pretty fucked. It’s not Darkwing Duck’s entirely fucked by a web of badger spiders and a queen snake on top to make it some sort of train situation, but by just sorta airing whatever episodes they wanted to, Disney messed with the character balance so Huey got less focus, not that he got a ton of focus this season but still, as well as leaning into the episodes focusing more on the kids with less involvement from the adults which gave the wrong impression about the series. While it IS very focused on the triplets and webby, the show isn’t entirely about them, but as Frank has mentioned a few times, Disney Channel apparently has this WEIRD thing where they assume kids won’t like stories starring the adult characters.

Yeah I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while. Mostly how it’s so dumb I could swear Pauly Shore was an exec at Disney Channel. And he might be I don’t know what he’s doing these days and i’d like to keep it that way. For starters, the Scooge comics, while barely published in the US these days, are still popular globally and have appealed to kids and adults for generations and are mostly focused on him, with the kids in a supporting role and Ducktales, you know the thing your directly remaking here, was also mostly about him with the triplets supporting, if a bit less than the comics. Most of the Disney Afternoon was about adult characters, with any kids in side roles in the main cast. And it comes off entirely hypocritical of them to say this when the MCU is easily marvel’s biggest cash cow at the moment, and marvel properties have appealed to both kids and adults, like the duck comics, for decades. And if it’s because the marvel cartoons weren’t doing well , I’ll let you in on a little secret: Those didn’t do well because they looked bland and from what I’ve seen of them felt kind of bland, though I haven’t seen enough to fully judge. Kids LIKE adult characters as much as kid characters, and also like teen characters despite not being teens. Focusing on either is valid and while I LIKED Disney’s youth starring shows I also want another X-Men cartoon before I turn 50, and I bet kids would like that too, with the last one only failing because you bailed on it because you were throwing a hissy fit over fox having the movie rights, and do not get me started on that. Point is this argument is horse shit and should stay in the stables.

So yeah I do think this episode came too soon and it’s placement effected it at the time and as such it dosen’t have the best rep with the fandom aside from the Lena bits and that includes me. The fact it was very early in the series and the characterizations hadn’t yet sunk in really hurt this episode in places but is it really that bad? Join me under the cut to find out

We open at the movies! Which scrooge apparently hasn’t been too since the 1930′s or seen any on video despite Della existing and being really stubborn.

A rant for another episode. But the kids just got out of a Mole Monster movie, along with Lena, Beakly and Launchpad. Their reactions are as follows: Lena, Webby and Dewey really enjoyed it, Huey found it unrealistic... says the boy whose uncle fought a dragon made of gold a month or two back but we’ll get to that, and Louie was bored and felt it didn’t have enough of the ultra violence, kids these days it’s not about the gore it’s about the tension. And Beakly.. is just pissed Lena tricked them into seeing this and said it was educational. And the more I think about it the more this sounds like BEAKLYS fault than Lena’s. BEAKLY is the one who likely bought the tickets, who saw it was likely an r or pg-13 and who as we’ve seen HAS A PHONE, and ulnike scrooge probably isn’t so stingy she wouldn’t spring for a smart phone, so she could’ve just googled it, or whatever bird related pun is in this version.. gandered it.. yeah let’s go with that, gandered it, and SEEEN it wasn’t appropriate or walked htem out of the theater and ate the cost if she was that bothered by it. Sitting through a Horror Movie you didn’t research, didn’t pull the kids out of and dind’t bother to even check the poster for or use basic common sense is YOUR fault. And this could’ve worked fine, had Lena talk the kids into begging for it or had launchpad take them and have Beakly find out after, having driven to pick them up as she didn’t trust launchpad to take them home. Instead it makes the former super spy look REALLY stupid and feels really out of character for a SPY to not to do research. And it wasn’t like they decided on this later, Bentina being a spy was part of the character’s backstory from day one and its made clear as early as episode 2 in both airing orders. This is just lazy writing to justify the episode and I expect better from this crew.

But an argument errupts between Huey and Webby over the Terra-Firmians, a hidden race of rock people living in Duckburg’s discontinued sewer system, allegedlys. So Lena suggest simply going down which gets a disapproving look from Beakly, despite you know this being their bread and butter, and the fact that if she had a problem with Scrooge not being involved.. she could just call him. Exploring fabled rock people is something he’d be into. I mean there’s a low profit margin but it also costs him almost nothing to walk to the theater or have launchpad swing around and pick him up. Just gas which given how much he pays for jet fuel isn’t a big ask. But Beakly soon gets distracted by Launchpad whose convinced the film is real and is attacking the poster a grim sign of things to come as while Beakly annoyed me in this one on rewatch, especially after realizing the above... Launchpad annoyed me both times and for VERY good reason we’ll get into. This provides a distraction and allows the trio to escape. Cue titles.

After the title sequence, our heroes head deeper underground, there’s too much panic in this town... I mean props to Donald for trying something new but he really needs to rethink his cologne choices. Sex Panther is just.. not a good smell on.. anyone.

So our heroes journey through the depths of the subway system, and we find out part of why Huey’s so skeptical, as he finds anything that isn’t in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to not exist, though the cracks in this already show as he’s added anything that does. We’ll get back to this later but as you can tell the basic dynamic for 24 minutes is Webby being a wholehearted True Believer and Huey being a Skeptical Sally. And Lena is just sorta “Eh gives me an excuse for shenanigans” about it. We also get a peak into webby’s mind as we see her notes .. which really just come off as Terra-Firmian fanfiction involving a war of succession between two sides, the terra’s and the firmies, something based on previous media, and also some doodles of a fictional candy called webby-dings and herself as a superhero, both things I want to see.

But yeah the first third of the episode is pretty simple, just them journeying, the occasional shift in the firmament, and it’s not bad, and there are a few great bits: Huey nerds out about rocks, and finds them way more interesting than a possible rock monster.

Which leads to the best gag of the episode as when Huey tries to pick up a big sample Webby, annoyed at his hyperfixation on the JWG, asks him to ask his book for help.. which he does by reading it and actually manages to pick the large rock up. This is halted though when Lena screams.. though she really just did it to draw them to an abandoned subway car full of glomgold posters for glomgold products because of course a failed subway project has his name plastered over it. You can’t spell glomgold without failure.. the failure is silent. Glomgold is not.

The fun is interuptted though by a livid Beakly who had realized they were missing in an earlier scene, after telling the Manager that McDuck Industries would pay for the poster.. and then found out Launchpad also destroyed the toilets “They come up thorugh the sewers!”. Launchpad that’s CHUDS, Ninja Turtles and Rats who raised Ninja Turtles like their own sons, mole people dig or use old mineshafts. It’s basic mole science. Also Beakly really shouldn’t sweat it, I just assumed the city has had a runnig bill witht he company for “McDuck Family and Employee Related Accidents, Mayhem and Shenanigans”. I mean he’s had Gyro on his payroll for at least a decade and a half by the series start, Gyro has leveled whole sections of city in an afternoon more than most giant monsters. Of which several have destroyed Duckburg. It got better.

Point is she’s livid about them sneaking off with Lena pointing out their some sort of adventure family and Beakly.. saying she won’t see them again, or at least implying it hard. I’ll put a pin in this, as the train buckles and a bit of seismic, or rock men, activity means their stuck. So they divide into teams: Beakly will go try and unhook the train car from the busted cars so they can ride out, Launchpad will go try and fix it, and we get this lovely exxchange as a result

Launchpad: Cool never crashed a train before Beakly: Can’t you try driving it without crashing it? Launchpad: Wha?

His face in that scene is priceless. He takes Dewey along. More on that in a second. Webby, Huey and Louie are told to stay put with Beakly only bringing Lena along because she dosen’t trust her. So since we have three split plots for a second... let’s split up gang, starting with the most aggrivating, middling with what you all came here for and why this is part of the retrsopective, and ending with the plot that directly heads into the final part of the episode.

Launchpad and Dewey: GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Okay starting with the most infamous plot and easily the worst part of this episode, probably the worst plot in any Ducktales 2017 episode. That’s not hyperbole it’s really that bad and really pissed people off, as fans of the original launchpad felt they made him overly stupid. This is where the airing order’s a problem as putting an episode with a subplot where one of your characters is obnoxiously dumb right up front means they assume this is his charcter and not just one poorly written chapter in a very dumb but very loveable characters life, likely because the writers hadn’t figured out how to properly scale his stupidity with comptience.

So as a result we get a good 3-4 mintutes if not agonizingly more of Launchpad assuming something he saw in a fucking movie film was real. That.. that’s his actual plot. Need I remind you, he’s in his late 20′s early 30′s. He’s not much older than me. While other episodes have him as dim this one claims he CAN’T TELL FACT FROM FICTION.

There are lines you have to keep with your characters to keep the audience from hating them. They crossed it about 80 times with this plot and make Launchpad into a gibbering dunderhead who can’t do anything right versus a regular dunderhead whose good at one or two things and loveable enough for us to like him and not care about his numerous safey violations and child endagerment charges. Thankfully this is the ONLY episode that gets this bad and they clearly learned from this, but it dosen’t make it any less of a tough sit.

Dewey spends most of the subplot with a look on his face that just screams that he’s as done with this bullshit as we are, as Launchpad assumes he’s a mole person and brought along a pipe to presumibly bludgeon him, because wanting to cave his best friends skull in over stupidity is a GREAT look> Thankfuly he does not. And when the lights come back on Launchpad.. assumes he’s a monster because of bright light, GAH, and locks him out before they end up outside and the plto resolves itself by Dewey pointing out by Launchpad’s utterly baffling logic that he could be a mole monster, so Launchpad.. assumes he is.

The subplot’s later buttoned up as he claims “I love being a mole monster”, again diffrent subteranian creature launchpad, she says he’s not and my suffering is thankfully at an end. This plot just sucks, it’s bad, overly stupid and dosen’t work with an adult character. Someone like say Ed from Ed, Edd N Eddy, or someone who belivies in weird conspiracy stuff like Dale Gribble or Stan Pines. with either of them this plot would’ve been fucking great. I could buy it from Dale and it just comes off as his normal paranoid weirdness. With Launchpad it comes off like he seriously needs help because the episode frames it as if he can’t tell ficton from reality, and his splotlight episode later would directly contridct this and make this episode even more aggrivating, as he’s a fan of Darkwing Duck, and KNOWS it’s acted out by an actor, so why wouldn’t he get this? It’s just....

It sucks, it sucks and I thankfully get to move on to a better subplot

Beakly and Lena: What You Are in the Dark

Beakly tells Lena she’ll never see Webby again after this.. then chastises her when she won’t help despite you know having just said she’s going to force their friendship apart, which Lena points out. She then gets mad at Lena making a sarcastic comment at her. Okay she’s lived with Louie for at least a week in airing order and a month or two in actual order. She has to be used to this by now. She’s insolent.. because you show her no respect, blame her for something that while sure she talked you into, you should’ve known better, and top it off by saying you want to keep her from the kids because they have bright futures and come from good familes and asks who rasied her and her face.. well.

Yeah wheras Launchpad and Huey, more on that in a second, were hurt by this being some of their earliest big roles, Bentina wasn’t.. until later when we found out just HOW bad Magica is to Lena and how much she dosen’t care about her other than as a tool to use. At this point we didn’t know just how much Lena was playing webby, how much she was only manipulating her, and even with her heroic act here we didn’t know if she only saw Webby as her way to break free. The next episode makes it clear she dosen’t and genuinely does care, 100%, so in hindsight it makes Bentina come off as ghoulsih for horribly asssuming about a girl she dosen’t know, and even if she did know about Magica wouldn’t know the full story, just like us, and then BERATING her after already saying she’s going to rip her away from Webby, which itself is PRETTY bad as she’s the only friend the girl has and sh’es doing so on... talking them into a horror movie, which as I outlined was more Bentina’s fault than Lena’s, and leading the kids into a dangerous place whicha gain, Lena pointed out is something she lets Scrooge do. And trust me i know that she actually knows Scrooge, and we later find out, as we’ll cover next month, that she isn’t ware HOW dangerous things are with Scrooge. It dosen’t change the fact she knows they do dangerous stuff to a point and that Lena may just be acting out. It also dosen’t change the fact she drove three children, yes including launchpad, down here with her instead of sending them home with Launchpad.. granted that option isn’t the safest but it’s safer than taking her with them thena cting like it’s ALL lena’s fault when three of the children, again including launchpad, are down there because of HER. Not Lena, HER. I’m harder on her because she’s older, wiser and was “raised properly” apparently. Though given the way she treats a random teen off the street she again knows nothing about and dind’t bother to ask... it begs the question.

IT’s a good question. I could see the classism coming from being raised in 40′s and 50′s britain, judging by the timeline.. but even then she’s seen the world, and while her nature is supscious, the classit bullshit makes no sense after presumibly working with, and later spymastering for, various agents of various backgrounds. How has she not dropped this in decades. Scrooge very clearly dropped the racisim and homophobia of his time, so it still stands on her for not dropping this. And Lena’s hurt shows under hte mask for the first time, that beneath the snark and secrecy.. is just an abused teenager with nowhere else to go and no way out being bullied by an older woman whose cutting off the only light at the end of the tunnel nto for good reason but out of classist, overprotective mallice. My issues, which to be fair probably were intentional in the episode but sitll are a bit overblown, aside we do get an absoluttley tremendous moment later as a car falls on top of Beakly.. and Magica, speaking once more urges Lena to leave her, let her die and let their plans progress. And while that iself is.. dumb, what if someone finds her or her corpse later, especially since Scrooge would likely perosnally want to retrive the body to give her a proper burial as she’s his only friend at this point, or the rest of the family questoin the story?, it fits Magica’s lack of foresight we see throughout the season. But Lena... saves her. While she later gives an explination, and a valid one at that, it’s clear from her expressoin, her actoins and how she does it... that this is her. Part of it is defiance, as she glares at Magica before doing it, her own stubborn nature mixed with her hatred of her “aunt”, meaning Magica just made it all too easy for her to do this. But the real reason is clear: It’s the right thing to do. While pissing off her aunt and getting away with it is the cherry on top.. the real reason is that unlike Magica.. Lena is not a killer, not a monster, and not a heartless vacum ofa person. Even if she doesn’t like Beakly, for good reason.. she can’t, she WON’T leave her to die and leave Webby an orphan again. She loves Webby too much to do that to her and while she may deny it.. she’s too good a person to leave someone to die for something so petty. Even if she never sees webby again and the plans ruined. It’s better than the weight of knowing she let someone who wasn’t trying to harm her and whose actions, while terrible, were out of misguided protection of her granddaughter, die like this. She saves her. And as we’ll see it pays off.. but before that.

Huey, Webby and Louie: Into the Unknown This plot’s a bit shorter, as Webby and Huey continue their argument, with Louie eventually making it clear, and not even hiding it when directly asked by Huey, that he’s playing both sides with a delighted expression on his face as the movie was boring but this, this is interesting. Which it is. But it’s interupted by dings on the roof and while Huey assumes i’ts just a regular rock, it moves while their not lookiung.. and soon red eyed, horrifying beasts look out at them and the kids flee back to the car. This dosen’t pan out as the car starts to shake and is clearly going to collapse.. and while Webby and Louie are prepared to flee, rock monsters or no, Huey, in an utterly heart shattering image.. stays in place, terrified of moving.

This is where this plot goes from mildly aggrivating, as Huey’s Skeptic shenanigans can get on the nerves.. to BRILLIANT. See at the time this was more annoying because it was assumed the skepticsim would be a part of Huey’s character and we’d get more episodes of him being annoying only to be proven wrong, as he semeingly dosen’t learn his lesson at this point, looging the terrafrimians in the guide book. But on rewatch.. this plot is amazing. For starters the plot subtly introduced the defening characteristic of Huey’s personality, one that’s become more prounounced in Season 3: His need for Order. He needs things to make sense: He solves stuff because he likes there to be order in the world and something he can understand, he can put in a box in his head. Like a lot of neurotypical people, myself included, he struggles horribly when the clearly defined boxes of his life and things he undestand have wrinkles or complexities he can’t get. I for instnace easily got it when I was introduced to the concept of trans people or being non binary.. they just make sense in hindsight: given how our brains are messya nd complicated it makes sense some people would be born in the wrong ones, and tht with all the science and medicine we have to correct that, should be allowed to transition if they so choose. It makes equal sense that some people just don’t have a gender or are gender fluid, being both or neither. Despite struggling with non binary prounouns due to force of habit.. I get the concept with no real difficulty. But when it comes to accepting I don’t have to apologize for everything and that everyone is not angry or that anger is natural and people sometimes get mad and you can’t and shouldnt’ fix it.. it’s something I STRUGGLE with even knowing it’s not right, because my brain is just wired that way.

That’s how Huey’s struggle comes off here.. he reveals he’s willing to stay and die.. because he’s SO scared of the unknown, that the idea of dying from something he at least knows what it is versus something he dosen’t.., so paralizyed by his own brain he can’t figure out the obvious.. it takes Webby reaching out to him figuratively and literally, to show him that sometimes you have to face the unknown. The unknown is fucking terrifying.. but it can be good and it’s better than sitting there, scared and unable to move. You have to try, to grow and take that risk that things may not go well to really LIVE.

So he does.. and they reunite with the rest of the group.. and soon find the terrafirmains.. who as it turns out once we get some light on them... are actually just goofy looking, brightly colored, each one matching one of the kids, kids themselves, and Huey reaches out and touches one, which by ET logic means their friends now, and the terrafirmians help them get out. And this lesson sticks. While sure Huey catalogues it and it seems it didn’t.. he’s never this skeptical again. This douchey skepticsim was only for one episode, his fear of the uknown replcaed with boundless curosity and from here on he’s CURIOUS about new stuff as long as it’s not trying to kill him. He loves taking in new experinces, maybe not to webby levels but he does actually try them and study them instead of just fearing them.

Before we wrap things up, obviously we need to talk about the JWG not having entries on a lot of stuff. This would be corrected next season as it returns to being a big book of everything, but dosen’t completely contridct this as Timephoon! shows there’s stillcgaps.. which i’m fine with. While it knowing EVERYTHING was fine for the original series here, with things being slightly more groudned, it’d just be an obvious plothole if Huey didn’t use it every single time they ran into something and that’d get boring. Instead it’s simply that it dosen’t know everything, and really in the comics at times it didn’t and the triplets found out new things. It knew almost everything mind you, but having some gaps for dramatic tnesion is fine with me and Seasons 2 and 3 decided on that instead of just having it being a scouting manual which wa sfor the best. And even by later in the season hit has guides to getting a small buisness loan, so they already course corrected.

So everything’s wrapped up and while Magica berates Lena for disobeying her.. Beakly interputps, thankfully not seeing magica and admits she was wrong and invites Lena for pancakes, even taking a crack about if their actually pancakes or english muffins with syrup, which sounds like my own living hell, in stride, having clearly grown. And Lena explains to Magica that this was the better approach: now she’s got the in theyw anted, and is above suspcison for now. Still not so much that an obvious act won’t be detected but enough that she dosen’t ahve to work actively around her anymore. Magica scoffs.. and while part of it is probably rage.. part of it is deep down both of them know she did it out of defiance.. and only Lena knows that she did it for the right reasons... she just dosen’t get why. She probably justifies it as playing the long game.. but deep down she knows something’s changing about her.. and she’s not sure if that’s a godo thing or not.

Final Thoughts: This episode is as you can tell a mixed bag. It’s 2/3 of a good episode, with the Lena plot, my issues aside, being excellent and the Terra-Firmian plot likewise fun, even if Huey can get grating the payoff is worth it, and the jokes are really high quality. It’s just bogged down by that fucking launchpad plot that just crushed my soul in it’s palms every time it came back. I went on at length why i hated that one but boy oh boy was the hate of that subplot warranted and I stand by calling it the worst plot of the series. It is: it’s not funny, it makes no goddamn sense, and it drags down what’s otherwise a pretty solid epsiode.

Next Time on Lena: Jaws the shark, lurking in the dark, in the depths of the bin one day of a lark decides to get rowdy, get real violent takes a vacay out to Duckburg er.. Island.. also Scrooge faces his greatest Nemesis.. a PR Tour to clean up his image after an unfortunate giant Beanstalk Incident. Be there and be hip to be square.

Next Time on This Blog: I Tackle a DCOM for the first time for another commissioned review as we take a look at racisim, specifically Apartheid and breaking indoctrination, with The Color of Friendship. See you next Rainbow.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #weblena #bentina beakly #launchpad mcquack #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #terror of the terra-firmians!#disney channel #disney xd #disney plus #disney #disney ducks #comissions

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phis-corner · 4 years

Text

wild

Another prompt for @jasonette-july-2k20, also cross-posted on Ao3 under the name m3owww. The other prompt fills are also on there.

“We’re going to the zoo!” Dick announces. “Everybody is mandated to come. Otherwise, Oracle’s locking you out of all your devices for a month. And by everybody, I mean everyone who dons a costume at night to beat people up.”

Marinette groans. This is not going to go well.

Scene I: The Giraffes

“Hey, it’s the giraffes!” Steph exclaims. “Woah, those are really tall.”

“We would have to stack three Damians to reach the height of one female giraffe.” Tim remarks, clutching a large thermos of coffee.

Damian snarls. “Do you wish to die, Drake?” Bruce snatches Damian’s backpack from him before he can pull out his knives.

Jason pokes Marinette in the side. “Male giraffes are eleven feet. If you stood on my shoulders, we’d be around that height.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Call me short, Jay. But I could easily punch you in the groin if I wanted.” Marinette grumbles. She pointedly ignores the commotion next to her.

Damian has tackled Tim, Dick is trying to pull him off, Steph is cheering him on, and Cass is happily watching the giraffes. Bruce is rummaging through Damian’s backpack and grimacing at the amount of weapons the child packed.

Go figure.

Scene II: Elephants

“Well, this kind of stinks.” Jason remarks, as the baby elephant in front of them decides to take a poo. They all collectively gag as the smell wafts their way.

“Let’s just move on.” Bruce decides, and the group starts walking, except for Damian.

“Five more minutes, Father.” The boy commands. “It is too adorable to leave.”

Marinette has never been more glad that she always brings face masks around. She hands one to Jason and puts the other on. At least this muffles most of the scent.

Bruce sighs. “Damian-”

“Five minutes, Father.” He hisses dangerously.

“Guess we’re stuck here.” Tim says sadly. “It’s going to be a long five minutes.”

Scene III: Reptile House

“Mari! Look here! It’s a Burmese Python!” Jason calls, pointing to a massive snake coiled in one of the terrariums.

Marinette shudders. “Eugh, these creep me out. Guess I use the mouse miraculous too much. I just hope we can move on soon.”

“This snake is beautiful.” Damian declares, gesturing at a King Cobra. “I wish to keep it as a pet.”

“Little D, this is a zoo!” Dick chastises. “Not an animal shelter with pets up for adoption!”

“Are you crazy? That’s the longest venomous snake in the world!” Tim shrieks.

Damian sniffs. “Precisely, Drake. I wish to train it to attack you, just as I have with all my other pets.”

“You- what?” Tim splutters. “That’s why none of the animals like me? I’m changing your Wifi password.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Steph walks up to Marinette and Jason, holding out a tub of popcorn. “Want some?”

“Thanks.” Marinette reaches for the popcorn, then freezes. “Wait. Where’d you get this?”

The blonde grins. “I have Cass on my side. Anything is possible.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason frowns. “Where is she?”

Scene IV: Butterfly House

Dick shrieks as another butterfly flaps past his head. “I swear, these things are trying to kill me!”

“Tt, don’t be stupid, Grayson. They are harmless creatures.” Damian scoffs.

Marinette hums thoughtfully. “I mean, most butterflies are, but if they’re actually the demonic purple butterflies sent by a crazy fashion designer with a magical brooch to prey on negative emotions and turn people into colorful monsters with ridiculous powers that I spent three years fighting, then we’re in trouble.”

Jason blinks. “Sometimes, I forget how crazy your life was.”

“Yeah, I wish I could do that.” Marinette sighs. “Gabriel was a dick.”

Tim raises his camera and snaps a picture of Steph giggling as a butterfly makes itself at home in her hair.

Bruce almost-smiles. “At least no one’s trying to kill each other here. Everyone is- wait.” He scans the house, frowning.

“Guys, have any of you seen Cass?”

Scene V: Penguins

As it turns out, Cass went off to buy a slushy. She joins them at the penguin exhibit and watches gleefully as Bruce tries to interrogate the poor birds. Tim is filming the entire thing on his camera.

“Have you ever had any association with the Gotham villain known as Penguin in the past?”

“Squawk.”

“What, exactly, is your connection to the criminal otherwise known as Oswald Cobblepot?”

“Squawk?”

“Answer my question!” Bruce growls at the birds.

Jason’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and Marinette stifles a giggle.

“Father, these are-”

“Silence, Damian! I am interrogating the moles that Penguin planted at the zoo.”

One especially brave penguin waddles right up to Bruce, leaving only a few inches of space in between their faces.

They engage in a silent staring contest.

Then…

“SQUAWK!” The penguin screeches in Bruce’s face. Being the Batman, he doesn’t startle (very much) and simply growls as the penguin dives into the water, chirping happily.

“Get back here! I wasn’t done yet!”

Scene VI: Tigers

The orange and black-striped feline elegantly prowls towards the group, heading straight for Cass, who beams and reaches her hand out to press up against the glass. The tiger nuzzles into the wall between them, and Cass frowns.

Captive. She signs. Free?

“This tiger was born in captivity.” Bruce says. “She wouldn’t survive in the wild. And for future reference, none of you are allowed to free the zoo animals.”

Dick sighs. “Aw, come on B, Dami and I had our heist already halfway planned!”

“This tiger is beautiful.” Damian states. “She is graceful in a way that humans cannot master.”

“What about Cass?” Jason points out. “She’s just as graceful as the tiger.”

Cass smiles, pleased. Thank you, little brother.

“Marinette and Dick are really graceful when they’re in the air too!” Steph adds.

Marinette winces. “Key word being air. I’ve already tripped over my own feet six times, and another three times on Jason.”

Right on cue, as she moves to read another plaque, she trips over Jason’s foot and flails. He catches her in a dip like the good boyfriend he is and promptly kisses her- passionately.

Damian makes a disgusted noise, Dick sighs, Tim snaps a picture, and Cass smacks them both on the backs of their heads.

Children. She signs, and they both smile sheepishly. Two toddlers are staring, openmouthed, and Marinette counts five parents covering their children’s eyes.

“Oops.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two can contribute to Alfred’s PDA jar when we get back.”

“Aww, Bruce!” Jason complains.

“He has strict rules and you didn’t follow them.” Steph chirps. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Timbo, help me out here?”

Tim looks up from where he’s fiddling with his camera. “Uh, no thank you? You two have scarred multiple children for life. It’s only five dollars. You’ll survive.”

“No! Betrayed! By my own family!” Jason wails, and Marinette huffs.

“Mon oiseau, you are the son of a billionaire. Not to mention, all the money you make from your… extracurriculars. You can pay the five dollar fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!”

At the end of the day, all of them are tired and sweaty. They agree that maybe the zoo isn’t the greatest place for a family outing, except for Damian, who wants to return to kidnap (Animalnap? Zoonap?) the animals and set them free.

As they get out of the minivan one by one, Marinette, who is right behind Damian, spots something in his shirt move.

“Damian, what’s in your shirt?”

The boy snarls. “Nothing!”

“Damian…” Bruce sighs, and Damian reluctantly pulls out a green grass snake.

“It is non-venomous. Nobody will miss it.” He says defensively, and there is a chorus of groans.

“It’s a snake.” Tim points out. “That you stole. From the zoo.”

Damian sniffs. “I prefer the term liberated.”

Jason groans, and rests his chin on the top of Marinette’s head. She staggers underneath the extra weight. “I hate this fucking family.”

Marinette reaches up to poke him in the chest. “You know you love us. Why else would you wear a bat on your chest?”

“To piss Bruce off.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july 2k20 #mild crack #I had a lot of fun writing this #now i'm just posting my favorites from ao3 on tumblr #my writing

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untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

The Lions Den

Mafia!Taehyung x Wife!Hyejin

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 11.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

Warnings In This Chapter: Master Kink, Pet Kink, Belly Worship, Spitting, Cunnilingus, Dom!Taehyung, Brat!Hyejin, Bondage, Degradation (Slut), Pussy Slapping, Spit Swallowing, Pregnant Sex, Orgasm Denial, Edging, Cum Swallowing, Multiiple Orgasms, Cream Pie, Praise, Forced Orgasms, Clit Pinching, Squirting, Blood, Gorey Descriptions, Cut Body Parts

A/N: Shout out to @xjoonchildx and @ladyartemesia for beta-ing this and rooting me on

TagList- @ayyyocee, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune, @imaforeigner, @yeonkiminnie, @stories1907, @ppersonna, @brilee64, @gooplibrary, @vivpurple7, @xjoonchildx, @brightwingr5, @yaniposts22, @rjsmochii, @taeslittletiger, @pjmcth, @bts-chub, @kpoppingthempills, @kim-ji-hyeons-world, @jikooksgirl19, @yoong-i, @ruinsofangels, @absolutefantrash, @chiminies-noona, @eclectically-esoteric, @asifetch7,

Sequel to The Bird Cage

Soft and heart fluttering is the only way Taehyung would describe his wife. Her skin was soft, words softer. Her eyes were always soft in expression looking at him. With a groan he rolls over in bed before pressing his lips to her hair. His hand landing gently on her growing belly as he sighs. He’s loved this woman for years, probably since the first time he saw her. She was everything to him, his sun during the night. His moon that waned high in the sky. His lighthouse that guided him home.

“Hye?” He whispers quietly in the morning lit room, his throat clearing away the sleep that enshrouded him a few minutes previously.

She was so constantly tired because of his son and if he didn’t have his best friend Jimin to tell him what to expect he would really be a lost puppy. She makes no move, gentle breaths through parted lips as she sleeps and he smiles gently before rubbing her belly as his son squirms within her.

“I love you.” He whispers aloud before burying his face in her hair.

It was many years ago now that he first saw her, he can remember how frail her body looked. Her eyes were so huge compared to her face then. She had a cute button nose, he remembers as he runs his hand over her belly. She gave him a gentle smile when he entered the mansion on her first day at work. Mirae worked her hard at first, to make sure she was up to the task at hand. He watched her clean the sitting room, his body hanging over the second floor railing as he sipped a glass of whisky. She was so precious, so shy and sweet. He couldn’t seem to find himself looking anywhere else on that first day. She was a distraction for him, a distraction from the man in the playroom that murdered his little sister. For the first time, in the longest time, he wasn’t angry or guilty when he looked at her.

He followed her everywhere on her first day, talking to her and smiling so brightly the sun couldn’t possibly be his rival. Her voice was small then, catering to every whim and stupid task he put her up to just to see her. He would ask her to bring him water every two hours, ‘for hydration purposes.’ But, in reality he just wanted to drink in as much of her as he possibly could. He hated the curfew that the maids were given, he wanted to see her far later than what was allowed. Which he brought up to Jimin a few times only to hear mumbles about how whipped he was from his best friend.

She began to open up to him as time went on, the first few months she worked at the house Taehyung could feel his breath catching every time he laid eyes on her. Her body began to fill out again as she stayed longer and he felt this overwhelming sense of love and ardor for this maid. He remembers barging into Jimin’s office during a meeting once. Disregarding the two Im’s that sat before the desk before pointing his finger at his best friend. He remembered telling Jimin how much he wants Hyejin. To give him to her. Jimin snorted over the rim of his whisky glass, telling him she’s a person and not a birthday present. With the roll of his shoulders he pleaded with his best friend, pulling him out of the office to relay how happy she makes him and how she makes him forget about his anger and guilt over his sister. Jimin promised him that if Hyejin wanted him, he could gladly have her. He had never seen his best friend so happy and he would want nothing more for Taehyung.

He can remember the times when he would sneak downstairs after curfew. Knocking gently on Hyejin’s door to see her. He can remember her voice laced with sleep as she would open the door a few inches and they would sit on the floor and talk to each other through the cracked door. He would ask her trivial questions he was dying to know. Like her favorite color and season. Her favorite food and favorite time of day. All to get to know the woman before him better.

He remembers taking her out after curfew to the back garden where they sat and talked about every little thing and nothing at all. He held her then for the first time. He kissed her for the first time there too. He took her virginity that night, took her everything and made it his. He can remember everything with her so well it feels like just yesterday.

Now here he was, years later. Arms wrapped around the woman of his dreams as she grows his child within her. He runs his fingers over her stomach, sighing as he buries his face in her black hair. She groans gently as his son kicks harshly within her, clicking his teeth he sits up before pressing his lips to her bare belly. “Enough now, Hyungwon.” He chides as she runs her hands over her face. He shushes her gently, before kissing up her naked body.

"Sleep more, you deserve to rest." He whispers before pressing his lips to her forehead. She hums to him before blinking slowly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "I'm awake now." She mutters and he chuckles against her temple as his lips drift lazily over the skin.

"I love you." He mumbles before hugging her tightly. She gives a small giggle, smile widening on her face as he rocks her gently in their large bed. "I love you too."

Taehyung feels the warmth of her against him, the supple globes of her ass pressed closely to his crotch and he hums to her. "I've missed you these past few days, you've been too tired for me, my love." He jeers as she turns on to her back. Her hair sprawling out on the pillow beneath her as he runs his hand over her stomach.

"You're the one that got me so tired in the first place." She chides him before pointing at her growing belly. He opens his mouth, fawning surprise before kissing her lips gently. "Oh don't you dare pretend like you weren't begging me to knock your filthy cunt up." He mutters before spreading her knees. He situates himself between them as his hands run over the bump he so diligently has made. He takes his time, his coffee irises blowing out as he watches her dark, puffy nipples begin to harden at his smooth circles on her belly.

"You know, Hye. Just say the word and Master will treat you like a good little girl." He whispers as Hyejin gives a short laugh. Her head lolls over to the clock. "I'm going to get my nails done with Y/N and her sister." Hyejin tells her husband as he pins her shoulders down to the bed. He clicks his teeth as his body bows down, gently he presses his stomach to hers as his lips drift over her jawline.

"Why don't you be a good girl and tell them you have morning sickness. You just can't make it today." Every word is sensually punctualised with a kiss, working his lips down towards her swollen breasts. She takes in a sharp breath as his now ragged breath fans over her pert nipple. "Do as I say pet. And, you'll get to cum all over my cock." His tongue snakes past his lips before licking at her stiff peaked nipple.

“Tae, come on. Y/N just started talking to me again I don’t want to- oh!” The corners of his lips flicker upwards before encircling her areola, he suckles gently at her sensitive flesh. Her back bows off of the bed as she whimpers for him. His free hand rolls her other breast in hand, squeezing delicately to accommodate their growing size before he looks back up at her. His long black hair falls into his eyes as he smiles.

“Come on, baby. Play with me. Please? I have the whole day for you.” He blows gently on her nipple, sending shivers down her spine as she runs her fingers through his hair. The stubble on his chin tickles her as he bends back down. Suckling sweetly at the nipple as he rubs circles on her belly. He could feel his son squirming around as her hips wiggle. Liquid arousal pooling out and onto the sheets below.

With a scoff she reaches for her phone on the bed side table before blinking rapidly to drive away her lusty haze. “Good girl, pet.” He mumbles against her breast as she rapidly types out that she has morning sickness and won’t be able to make it. “Mmm.” He groans before kissing down the valley of her breasts. His lips kiss over her swollen skin, suckling gently at the flesh of her belly as she moans gently. Her fingers press the delete key a billion times before she can type properly. His hands spread her legs wider, thumbs stroking over her inner thighs as she whimpers quietly.

“I’m getting impatient, pet.” He calls to her before suckling at her belly button. His tongue trails over the dark line that traipses from below her belly button to her sex. She sends the message before throwing her phone onto the bed with a moan. Her phone vibrates not long after, both of her best girlfriends sending her ‘get better’ messages. Taehyung lets out a soft chuckle before kissing at her belly and her head cranes up to watch him as her mouth drops open. “Lay down, don’t strain yourself.” He tells her before lifting his head.

She whines lowly, “I want to see you, this belly sucks when I can’t see you.” He clicks his teeth before rubbing at the distended sides of her stomach.

“Don’t say negative things like that, Won can hear you.” He tells her before hooking his hands under her knees and pulling her to the edge of the bed. He jumps off the bed, sitting back on the balls of his feet as he dangles her legs over the edge. Pulling her closer, she sits up on her elbows.

“Better?” He asks before brushing some of her stray hairs behind her ear. She nods with a smile, earning a snort from him before he bows down again. “You’re such a little cum slut, pet. It’s incredible.” He murmurs before splaying her pussy lips open with his fingers. He tuts his tongue as he stares lewdly at her swollen cunt.

“You’re so swollen, pet. So fucking wet, Jesus.” He whispers before picking some arousal up with his fingers making her whimper. He brings them to his lips before tilting his head.

“I guess someone is dying to get split open with my huge cock, hmm?” He asks before thrusting his fingers at her face. “Lick it up, taste what your little pregnant pussy makes.” He tells her and hums in appreciation as her lips open for him. He enters his fingers into her mouth before groaning as her tongue swirls around his digits.

“That’s it, pet. Show me how needy you are.” With a whine she suckles delicately against his fingers. He pulls his fingers from her before wiping them on the bed sheets. He spits on her cunt earning a shiver from her as he watches his spittle mix with her arousal as her pussy clenches around nothing. He gives a kitten lick to her swollen clit, feeling the way it throbs on his tongue and he moans before grabbing at her thighs. He kneads the flesh before suckling harshly, loud moans ricocheting off the walls of their room as he laps his tongue against the bud. “Fuck! Master!”

Taehyung’s cock twitches at the word before looking up at her. Barely able to see him over the belly, she tugs at his hair as her hips begin to lift off of the bed gyrating for more. Inching two fingers towards her weeping cunt, he steadies her hips as he watches the baby move within her. “Watch it, pet. Watch our son.” He chided as she tugs at his hair for more. With a quick breath he’s standing before shoving her down into the mattress. She gasps loudly as he grabs her wrists before tugging her up the bed.

“Defy me one more time, pet. I dare you. I was going to be nice but you’re being a fucking brat.” He says before grabbing the silken strands of fabric that are tied to the bed posts.

Hyejin lets out a low whine before stamping her feet on the bed, “I’m sorry, Master. I just wanted more.” She whispers as he runs his hand over her belly before tying her hands to the bed posts.

“I don’t fucking care what you want. You get what I give and if that isn’t clear enough I’ll tie your legs up and use you like a hole for me to fuck until I choose. Are you going to behave?” He asks her before kneeling between her legs as she strains against the fabric. With a pout she nods to him and he slaps her cunt once for good measure.

“Words.” He demands her before letting his lips drift over her belly.

“Yes, I’ll be good. I promise, Master.” He hums to her before thrusting two fingers into her needy pussy without warning. Her back arches, belly straining as she moans loudly. Her pussy was so much tighter, so much warmer in this state. It was almost dizzying, he couldn’t get enough. He finally understood what Jimin had been talking about all these years. Pumping his fingers in slowly, he bows back down to her cunt.

"You're fucking soaked. Jesus." His lips encircle her clit as he sets a steady pace with his fingers. Her gasps and groans make his eyes screw shut. The pet name he so diligently trained into her is spoken throughout the quiet of the room as her hands grasp at the silk strands that keep her arms bound. "Yes. Master! Fuck!"

He could feel her clenching around him, begging for release. Each harsh breath she takes, strains the skin on her growing stomach. Taehyung moans against her gently, lips and cheeks becoming coated in her arousal as he curls his fingers. "I want you to cum for me, pet. I want you to show me how much you love my fingers in your needy little cunt."

Suckling harshly at her clit, she gives a sharp moan before cumming. Her ears ring out with white noise as she bows off of the bed. Taehyung sits up, pulling his fingers slowly from her before spitting on her cunt. "Good girl, my sweet pet."

He watches her for a second, enraptured by her gorgeous face as she lays blissed out before him. Kissing her belly languidly, he waits patiently before calling her attention back to him. Tugging down his boxers, he hums as her eyes become alight with wanting. "Look how much you love my cock. Drooling over it." He runs his thumb over her bottom lip slowly. Tongue peeking out, Hye runs it over the pad of his thumb and he shivers gently before tapping her cheek.

"Sit up." His index and middle finger gather precum from his pooling slit before holding his fingers out. Sitting up, she waits patiently for instruction as he caresses her belly.

"Open your slut hungry mouth." He tells her as he drifts the precum over her bottom lip. Like a good girl, she opens her mouth for him. He hums as he presses his fingers harshly on her tongue. She whimpers at the taste, stringy and musky on her tongue as he hooks his thumb below her jaw. He tugs her face around as she sucks diligently before pulling her closer to him. "Spread."

Her legs open for him as he gets comfortable between them. Watching as she tugs harshly against her restraints with all her strength, he raises an eyebrow. Pulling his fingers out, he tuts his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Misbehaving little slut, what did I tell you?"

"I get what you give." She whispers as he spreads her legs wider. She whines loudly as he restrains her ankles to each bottom bedpost. "Look at you. Flayed for me because you just can't fucking listen. Hmm?" His hand rears back before slapping her pussy. She gasps loudly, thighs quaking as she goes through the motions of overstimulation.

He's taught her before, he'll break her down before building her back up but Hye has always been a brat by nature. She always defies, it's in her personality. But, he was fine with it. Life wasn't anything but fun with this woman beneath him. "Little fucking brat, open your mouth." She pouts at her husband, defying him with her pretty face and he lets out a dark chuckle.

Spanking her pussy against, he feels her arousal gush out of her. "Open your fucking mouth, pet." Gripping his cock, he slaps the bulbous head harshly to her clit watching her writhe beneath him.

He pinches her puffy nipple roughly, earning a sharp groan from his wife as he taps his hand to her cheek. "Let's go, pet." Reluctantly, she opens her mouth.

Minding her belly, he leans over her before spitting into her mouth. "Swallow it." She does so with a whimper, arousal beginning to pool onto the bed sheets beneath her as she tries to close her legs for friction.

Taehyung prods at her pregnant cunt before running his hands over her belly. "Look at you. Filthy little cock whore. Filled with my son and still getting my cock all wet. What does that say about you?" He murmurs as he bends down.

His lips plucking at her pert nipple as she moans beneath him. "That I love you, Master. Always!" She whines as her hips lift off the bed begging to be filled.

His expression softens for a mere second, thumb drifting over her cheekbone as he smirks down at her. He plants a chaste kiss to her lips before thrusting inside of her without warning. She screeches with pleasure, eyes watering as his large cock impales her. "Fucking tight cunt, Jesus Christ." His tongue licks at his lips, head lolling back as he buries himself to the hilt.

He lets her adjust to his large size. Admiring the way her small pussy stretches around him, he gives shallow thrusts as he kisses the top of her belly, tongue rolling over the distended skin. "You're so gorgeous, pet. So pretty filled with my child. Accommodating his growing size so well, you're perfect." She smiles up at him as he tightens all four of the restraints on her limbs.

"Your pregnant little cunt feels so amazing." He rolls his hips, earning a groan as he fills every nook and cranny of her soaked pussy. He begins to harshly thrust within her, ogling the way her breasts bounce for him. "Oh my God! Master!" Hye pulls on her restraints as he fucks her into next week.

His tongue licks at his lips, hands drifting over her engorged skin. "What are you to me?" He asks loudly as he pulls her hips up. Her body quivers at the pleasure, eyes streaming with tears as she balls her hands into fists. Her words seem to have been fucked out of her as her mind grows fuzzy.

"Answer me, pet." He demands before slapping her breast gently. It's just enough to bring her back down to Earth as the sting radiates through her body.

"A hole! Just a hole for you to fuck!" She whines, her mouth going dry in the process as he grunts at her answer.

"That's right. You're just a pregnant fucking cocksleeve for me to use. Just a pregnant little hole for me." She gasps loudly as he pinches her clit. The sound of obscenely pornographic squelching resonates throughout their bedroom as his cock begins to twitch and pulse.

"And because you're such a fucking brat, you don't get to cum. You can watch me cum in you and cry all over my cock."

"No! Tae! Please! I'll be good!" She gasps loudly as he presses her breasts together before spitting between them.

"Too late, pet." He whispers before drilling himself home. She whines loudly, the pleasure white-hot but not enough stimulation to finally get her to the precipice. She watches him fuck her dilligently, his black hair sticking to his sweaty face as he kneads at the skin of her stomach.

His cock throbs wildly, growing thicker and longer as his pent up frustrations from days before finally come to a head. "Oh fuck! Hye!" He curses loudly before gripping at her hips.

Bulldozing himself inside, he watches her weep for his cock. Loving the way she struggles against the restraints to cum for him. "Please! Please Tae!"

"No." He mumbles through gritted teeth before his hips stutter. He shudders visibly with a loud groan as he cums inside of her. She sobs at the stop of movement within her, her knuckles going white as grips the silken strands of fabric above her. He sighs gently before pulling out of her.

Gritting her teeth, she kicks her legs in frustration as his hands run over his sweating six pack. "Open your mouth, pet." He instructs as he holds his cum covered cock. Globs of white cum meet her eyes as crawls out from her legs.

He straddles her shoulders then, smacking the cum coated head of his cock to her lips. She opens her mouth slightly and he smacks her lips once more, white dots of cum flecking her lips and cheek as he does so. "Wider, babe." The sweet pet name has her opening wider within a second.

"Suck me clean. Get me hard again." He tells her as her lips engulf his cock. The taste of his cum is heavy on her tongue, musky and all hers as she bobs her head. Swallowing his cum, she moans loudly at the taste. Taehyung's head turns, his fingers making a V motion as he opens up her pussy lips. He smirks at her swollen cunt, brimming and frothed white with his seed.

Hollowing her cheeks, she adores the way his length continues to grow in her mouth. "Good girl, pet." He whispers as his fingers dip through her messy folds. Gathering his cum on his fingers, he rubs gentle circles onto her clit before moaning as she swirls her tongue over his head.

She moans in tandem with him, clit beginning to throb wanting more and more pleasure to cum again. "Look at how swollen you are, baby. Your pussy is so fucking red." He tells her before slapping her pussy once more. She writhes beneath him as he teases her, pinching her clit earning streams of spit and tears down her face.

He pulls out of her mouth, eyeing her stomach as his son moves within her and he chuckles at the sight. Climbing off he kisses her gently. His hand strokes languidly at his cock as he situates himself again between her thighs. "Fuck your clit is huge for me, right now." He tells her before spitting on her cunt.

Her skin feels hot, pussy weeping with cum and arousal as she begs him to fill her. Dying to get off on his cock, she lifts her hips with a whine. "Alright." He whispers before prodding at her entrance again. He sets a ginger kiss to her stomach as he enters her slowly.

His mouth drops open at the warm, wet feeling as her cunt engulfs him. "Fuck, you're so messy with my cum. You little slut. Feels so fucking good." He wipes her tear streaked cheeks with sweet strokes of his thumbs before beginning to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

"God, you're such a good girl letting me fuck your pregnant cunt like this. Letting me use your tight hole like a cocksleeve." Her moans grow louder as he rubs her clit with rough circles. The obscene amount of wetness between her folding making it easy to build her up to the precipice.

"Oh fuck! Thank you, Master!" She whines loudly as she lifts her hips with each thrust. "You love it, don't you? Love taking my cock and cum deep in your needy slut of a cunt."

"Yes, Master! I love when you fuck me!" He groans at her words, feeling her pussy begin to twitch and pulse around his length.

"Fuck, look at you. Already cumming on my cock like a virgin." He murmurs as her thighs lock and quiver. Becoming a babbling mess, her moans are keen. Eyes rolling back as he pinches her clit skillfully between his fingers.

"That's right, pet. Cum on my big cock." He whispers.

His thrusts become steadier, working hard to please his wife beneath him. Tugging harshly at the restraints, her back bows off the bed. Lips parting for air as her pleasure reaches its peak. "Cum." Taehyung demands.

With dull ears and eyes screwed shut, she orgasms for him. Voice reaching a new high as her hips gyrate on his cock. "Fuck! So tight! Good girl, baby." He praises as her cunt clamps around his length. With a whimper, her head lolls back finding it hard to concentrate on anything as she goes through the throes of pleasure.

He spreads her legs wider, hands pressing to either side of her belly as he begins to rut himself inside of her faster. Breath catching, she whimpers as he picks up her hips. The new angle is mind dazing. With every harsh thrust, the bulbous head of his cock brushes against the spongy patch of nerves within her.

Gritting her teeth, she whines loudly as he fucks her though over stimulation. "T-Taehyung! I-I can't!" She gasps out, tears of pleasure streaming down her cheeks.

"You were crying to cum, pet. What's wrong? You can't handle the pleasure I give you, hmm? I'll make you cum as many times as I want." Hyejin whimpers as he thrusts with purpose.

Picking her ankle up and slinging over his shoulder, he changes up the angle once more. Deeper inside her now, she screams for him. Her wrists become chaffed by the silk as he licks at his perfectly pink lips. "That's it, pet. Look how wet you make my fucking cock. Jesus." He can feel his own orgasm coming as he locks eyes with his wife.

She begins to blubber again, words having no origin nor ending as her eyes roll back. "Good girl." Pinching her clit, without warning she orgasms again on his cock. Her breasts raise towards the ceiling as her cum squirts onto his thighs.

"Fuck! Look at that!" He groans through clenched teeth before driving himself home. He could tell it was becoming too much for her and he takes pity as she whimpers his name beneath him. "I love you." He whispers as his cock throbs wildly for release.

"I love you too!" She cries out as he stutters inside her. He sighs loudly as ropes of cum lather her swollen cunt. Wiping his hand across his sweating forehead, his tongue purchases between his teeth as he chuckles.

Pulling out ever so gently, his lips rest on her belly. Giving gentle kisses he unties her wrists expertly, not even having to look at the process he's done so many times before. "Did I put you to sleep my Won? Hmm?" He asks sweetly before untying her ankles.

Hyejin groans as she closes her legs and with a laugh, he lays beside her. It's unspoken that she places her head on his shoulder. And, it's also unspoken as she drifts his fingers over her forearm. "I missed you, baby." He whispers before placing his hand over his heart.

She looks up at him, chin hooking onto his pectoral muscle as she smiles. "I missed you too. Hyungwon has made me so tired and that whole Im thing just took us apart for a while." He nods to her before closing his eyes.

His hand rests on her belly as he sighs loudly. "Anything I can do that will protect our family, I gotta do it." She nods in agreement before running her nails down his chest.

"I'm so happy that Y/N is talking to me again." Hyejin admits.

Taehyung gives a tired smile before tilting his head to look down at her. "She was having a hard time being jealous. That isn't to say she wasn't happy for us but, I know just how much she wanted another baby."

With an agreeing hum, Hyejin throws her leg over his. The afternoon had gone by so quickly, it almost shocked him as his wife's stomach growled. "He's hungry." He whispers before patting her thigh.

They sit up together as he kisses her temple. "What does my beautiful wife want to eat today?"

Wrapping his arms around her, his fingers run ticklish circles around her belly as she hums to herself. She buries her face into the nook of his neck, taking in his scent of fresh soap and lingonberries. Hugging him tightly, she runs her fingers over his abs.

"You're so indecisive." He says with a laugh.

Bending down he whispers to her stomach as he lays his head on her thigh. "Won, what do you want to eat? Mommy can't decide. Do you want ginger chicken? Or soup? Noodles? Tell daddy what you want."

"Oh. Cold spicy noodles sound delicious. " Hyejin murmurs out, earning a chuckle from her husband.

"Then I'll get it for you. Whatever you want." He says as he kisses her temple. Jumping out of the bed, the smile that spreads across his face is dazzling. Everything he could ever want was right in front of him.

Stepping out of the restaurant, he takes his mask off of his face before walking towards his new Porchse. A perfectly wonderful present from his best friend for his birthday.

"Kim Taehyung?"

Swirling his body around on the drop of a dime, his hand grips at his gun in the back of his pants before nodding at the delivery boy that stands in front of him.

"What do you want?" He asks, gripping his gun tighter as a white cardboard box is presented to him.

"Delivery." The boy says as he holds the box out farther.

"Oh yeah? From who?" Tae asks as he sets the food on the hood of his car.

"No return to sender, just said to deliver to Mokja for Kim Taehyung." He clicks his teeth before pointing at the hood.

"Put it down and get lost." He mutters out.

Bending down he pulls his knife out of his strap around his ankle watching the delivery boy put the box on the hood.

Quickly, he hops back on his moped before handing Taehyung the clipboard.

"I need you to sign." He says.

He rolls his eyes before grabbing the pen and signing his name.

Chucking the pen at the boy, he turns his body to the white box. Stabbing the box twice, he steps back before huffing gently.

"What are you?" He mutters before opening up the box.

Peeking inside he groans at the nose and toes that sit inside the bottom of the box. With wide eyes he closes the box back up before shivering. He has to talk to Jimin immediately.

"Fucking freaks." He scoffs before grabbing the box and the food before hopping into the driver's seat of his car.

Something is very wrong.

#the lions den #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswritingcafe #mafia!bts #mafia!au #bts smut #bts story #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung x wife

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