Tumgik
#spirited away headers
userstuf · 1 month
Text
★ SPIRITED AWAY USERS ★
• spraway
• chzhiro
• spiritdaw
• chqhiro
• sptaway
fav/reblog if u save or use ♥︎ dont repost it
25 notes · View notes
gaecoo · 10 months
Note
Oii, você tem alguma header que combine com esse icon por favor?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
124 notes · View notes
yeonruwu · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
🍂🍀 i found a girl in my dreams, but i don't remember her name
5K notes · View notes
hakuwaii · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
🍙⠀ –⠀ 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 ⠀﹕ 運命
318 notes · View notes
kikuchimetal · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
hey people! i dont really know how tumblr even works but i made these headers if anybody wants to use any of them! no creds needed i really dont care steal it all u want
76 notes · View notes
k-iiko · 2 years
Text
Studio Ghibli- Spirited Away headers
-
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
| Spirited Away (2001)
55 notes · View notes
princessn0ke · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
enanet · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
Spirited Away wallpaper and header by SailorTrekkie92
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1 note · View note
sadeyedsugar · 8 months
Text
🃁 𝖎 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖓’𝖙 𝖈𝖗𝖞 (𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖎 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖙) 🃁
𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⟡ now playing: 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔯𝔩 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢 - 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔨𝔫𝔡, 𝔣𝔱. 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔞 𝔡𝔢𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔶 ⟡
Tumblr media
pairing: mafia!abby x burlesque dancer!reader
cw: creepy men, violence, descriptions of blood, lowkey stalker abby vibes, fem!reader, anger issues, family trauma, minor character death mentioned (rip jerry), possessive behavior, dark sexual themes, mentions of b*sm, dumbification, dollification, shibari, exhibitionism, dom too!abby, sub bottom!reader, collaring, mommy/daddy kink, mentions of bad previous relationships, aftercare/no aftercare ; let me know if I missed anything!
an: hi pretties!! I had so much fun writing this! real throwback to mafia bf wattpad. I kind of went crazy :) likes reblogs and comments are encouraged they lift my spirits <3 let me know what other abby headcanons I should write or if I should make a pt 2 to this ❀ reqs are open too, send me something raunchy i’d love that ❀ btw- the images in the header do not reflect what the reader looks like in any way shape or form. also most of this fic is lower case bc I think it’s cute (nd i’m lazy) okay happy reading - sincerely, sugar ⋆˚✿˖°
Tumblr media
𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤
✮ you had never met the elusive Abigail Anderson. all you knew was that she and her influential family had owned the burlesque club you had been dancing at since you were 18 for generations
✮ you only saw her in short flashes: long blonde hair, tattooed fists always clenched, in a power suit as she conducted business meetings in her upstairs office before leaving in a flurry of bodyguards
✮ tonight was like any other. you were backstage touching up your makeup and spraying glitter on your chest, prepping for the finale of the show. what you didn’t know was that your boss would be front and center for tonight’s show for the first time in the history of the establishment. the anderson family never sat amongst their clients, always in the balconies- if they found the time to break away from business, which was rare
✮ on stage, the lights illuminated your skin and you lip synced to the sultry music as you danced, slowly stripping item after item. tonight’s finale was your first solo and you were oh so nervous. as you slinked your way to the edge of the stage, the only item of clothing left being your red slip, your gaze connected with the one and only: abigail anderson
✮ her steely blue eyes bore into yours as she sat alone at the front table, scotch (neat) in a crystal glass. she sipped and raked her gaze up and down your form as you elegantly pulled your slip down your shoulders, leaving you bare for all to see in nothing but pasties and thigh high stockings
✮ you smiled coquettishly as the crowd erupted into applause, all but one soul, rowdily cheering for your performance. miss abigail’s grip on her glass tightening viscerally and you knew she could shatter it if she tried hard enough
✮ as you stand to exit the stage a hand closes around your ankle and you panic. a man below you has a vice grip on you and you feel your short lived confidence shrink
“give us an encore sweetheart” he slurs, and he lifts his other hand in a poor attempt to stuff dollar bills into the band of your stocking
you try to shake him off and his grip tightens as he attempts to climb on stage, “no need to get feisty sweetheart, you’re just a fucking stripper in fancier clothes,” he yells at you, “just a whore like the rest of ‘em”
✮ in the corner of your vision you see abigail surge from her seat, visibly shaking with rage as she makes her way over to you. but security beats her too it, two of them tackling and then frogmarching the intoxicated man away from you as other gently leads you back to the dressing room
✮ the security man says something into his earpiece and then asks you to wait- so you listen, wiping your makeup off and rummaging for some comfy clothes to change into
“miss anderson has requested your presence in her office.” the man tells you as you pull a soft sweater over your head. you nod and follow him upstairs. in all the years you’d worked here you’ve never been in this area of the club before and your nerves buzzed as you stood in front of the sleek black double doors.
✮ you pressed them open and inside, miss abigail was sitting behind a giant mahogany desk, her hand in a bowl of ice that was tinted slightly pink. she smiled at you in such a warm way that it took you by surprise, since it conflicted so much so with her serious exterior. she gestured for you to sit in the plush armchair across from her. you couldn’t see yourself ever saying no to her so you sat down
“are you alright?” she asked, sculpted brows furrowed in concern. “I just wanted to personally apologize to you for what happened tonight.”
“i’m fine really, it’s okay-”
“it’s not though,” she interrupted, her jaw clicking with anger. she rose from her chair, wiping her dripping, bruised fist on a monogrammed towel. “that mans entitlement knows no bounds. to have the audacity to touch you in my club!” she spits
✮ she comes to sit on the portion of desk in front of you, craning her neck down to meet your gaze. “i am so sorry.”
you’re at a loss for words. you don’t know what to do with yourself, all you can focus on is abigail’s intense gaze and injured knuckles
✮“bring him in” she says, speaking to the bodyguard in the corner of the room but still holding eye contact with you.
✮ two more guards drag in the man from before. but you hardly recognize him- his face is pummeled in, black and blue and bloody. you realize the blood in the ice bowl doesn’t belong to abigail. it belongs to him. the guards force the man to his knees to your left, and you stare at him. horrified.
✮ abigail doesn’t even spare him a second glance. “do you want me to kill him?” she says, causally but seriously. “he disrespected you. and since you belong to me, he has disrespected me as well. my club. my family name too. but most importantly: you.”
✮ you do double take. she can’t be serious. but she takes your horrified reaction in stride. abigail straightens and takes off her suit jacket, draping it over the back of her office chair. she removes an expensive looking knife from her pocket and stands behind the man, flicking it open and pressing the blade to his neck as she grips his hair, fiercely jerking his head to face you.
“apologize to the lady.” she says, darkly.
✮ you blink in disbelief as you watch him say sorry over and over, blood dripping from his mouth. a few of his teeth are missing. his apologies turn to pleads as abigail presses the knife deeper, drawing a bead of blood from his gullet. he begs for mercy over and over and over and over.
✮ some twisted part of you wants to watch him die. you’ve never had anyone stand up against the horrible men in your life, and just once you’d like one of them to pay. but you know you’ll never be able to live with yourself if his blood was on your hands.
“don’t kill him.” you whisper, gaze directed to the floor.
✮ abigail huffs, almost disappointed but nods and releases him. the man slumps to the floor and the bodyguards drag him out.
✮ abigail cleans the rest of the blood from her hands and puts her jacket back on. “how are you getting home?” she questions.
“I always take the subway ma’am” you say.
She feels a pull in her gut at the honorific, but ignores it. not yet.
“I’m driving you home.”
✮ she reaches for your hand and you can’t even argue with her, so you take it. she leads you downstairs through the back to her black fortified range rover. she opens the door for you and then slides in after, handing you a bottle of water as she casually tells her driver your address.
your grip tightens on the water bottle, “miss abigail, how- how do you know where I live?”
“I keep tabs on all of my investments,” she says breezily, with a soft hand on your thigh, “and please, from now on call me Abby.”
And you have ever since
Tumblr media
𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡
✮ you and abby have been inseparable since that night at her club. she encourages you to have a life of your own, but you two are rarely seen without one by the others side
✮ abby is fast to call you her girlfriend. likes to refer to you as her lover or partner to others, because she needs them to know you’re hers. being abby’s has offered you a level of protection you’d never know. after a lifetime of being treated like you were less than dirt, the royal treatment that came with being informally apart of the anderson family was like a breath of fresh air
✮ abby gifts you a penthouse apartment after a week of being together. after seeing the walk up you used to live in, with its roach infestation and lack of security, she was quick to amend the issue. you spend most of your time at her brownstone though, because you can’t bear to be away from her
✮ out of concern for you safety (and slight jealousy) abby asks you to retire from dancing at her club. since you no longer need to worry about money you agree, always wanting to make her happy. you occasionally will give her a private dance in the privacy of her bedroom
��� you learn that the anderson family are not just in the club and real estate business. their empire is built mainly on international drug selling and smuggling. sometimes abby will let you sample new products before they’re released on the market. one time you smoked something so strong it sent you into such an intense panic attack that the only way you could calm down was abby offering up her muscular, tattooed arm for you to drawn on. you filled in her ink with markers and it finally got your heart rate to settle. now when you ever feel overwhelmed or anxious she lets you do some doodling and you love her for it
✮ abby wants you to have a life and ambitions outside of being her little housewife, so she gives you a modest loan ($500,000) for you to do whatever you please with. you decide to start a charity that helps young children in the foster care system become classically trained in the dance style of their choosing. you want to help kids like the anderson family helped you, and abby is so proud of you. she helps you learn about business and financial literacy, wanting you to be self sufficient and confident. she also makes sure to show you how to take care of herself, and gives you self defense and shooting lessons
✮ abby is a good few years your senior, you being in your mid twenties and her being in her late thirties. but she never ever talks down to you or treats you like a child. she lets you go crazy and experience your youth, never telling you not to wear something revealing or how much to drink. she just holds your hair when you vomit in the toilet and always makes sure to have fresh bagels and painkillers on the bedside table when you wake up.
✮ abby’s usual composed, levelheaded nature only crumbles around the anniversary of her fathers death. her employees, family and friends all warn you of her violent outbursts and fits of anger during this time. but somehow, around you she finally leaned to cope with her grief differently. she talks about him out loud for the first time in years with you. she starts calling you ‘sunshine’ because you always chase her strorm clouds away
✮ abby likes to spend weekends at the country house in upstate new york when she wants a bit of fresh air. the first time she takes you up there is on your birthday. she introduces you to her dobermans, and the new puppy she got you. you name her sprinkles and carry her in your arms everywhere. if you’re in bed, sprinkles is in your lap while you read. she’s on the counter while you do face masks. she’s in your arms as you watch tv. you’re inseparable.
✮ abby’s most dangerous hobby/addiction is high stakes poker. the buy in can range anywhere from 25k to a million dollars. she likes it when you sit on her lap, keeping her company in a tiny dress while she plays, cigar tucked between her lips, hand full of cards, the other under your skirt. she doesn’t like when her opponents ogle you- but she does like when you sweet talk them and they distractedly play awful hands until she wins. she always sticks some of the cash under your bra strap and tells you to buy yourself something pretty, before smacking you on the ass affectionately. she calls you her good luck charm.
✮ abby is secretly a giant softie. she has a wicked sense of humor and kind heart, a side of her only you get to see. she doesn’t remember much of her mother but she does have the classic children’s literature books she passed down to her. you ask abby to read some to you, and she pretends not to be excited when you curl up in her lap, head tucked into her neck, while she reads ‘the little prince’ to you
Tumblr media
𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔶
✮ after 2 years of dating abby proposes to you, late one summer night while on vacation in bali. she gives you her signet ring, with her family crest on it- you know it means much more to her than a traditional engagement ring because it’s one of the only things of her fathers she has left. you’re so happy you cry as she slides it on your finger. you’re still crying on the sunset helicopter ride over the ocean. you’re still crying when she holds you in bed back at the hotel, telling you how much she loves you and laughing adoringly at your outpour of emotion
✮ you get married in gorgeous chateau in the south of france with all your friends and family there to support you. you wear a costum made designer gown, and abby only lets a single tear fall when she sees you walking down the aisle, quickly wiping it away. she gets you a vintage cream colored Porsche as a wedding gift and you keep it for when you want to go on drives at the country house. during your first dance she twirls you around the ballroom to ‘at last’ by etta james
✮ abby loves having you as her wife but now that her ring is on your finger her jealous tendencies increase tenfold. she’s more possessive, touchier and angrier when men and women try to get with you
✮ you officially move into abby’s brownstone but keep your penthouse for girls nights (and the occasional fight when you can’t stand to sleep in the same bed as abby. but she always shows up at your door with flowers and you inevitably go back home with her)
✮ abby sometimes gets so caught up in her work she just holes up in her home office and forgets to eat or sleep. she likes having you live there because you’re always gentle to her when she forgets to take care of herself. you get her takeout from her favorite sushi place when she doesn’t have time for dinner and you keep her company when she’s stressed. either on the sofa with a book or sitting straddling her lap while she types around you. sometimes you sit at her feet and rest your head on her muscular thigh while she pets your hair. you like it because you can see the tension leave her body. you also like how submissive you feel beneath her
✮ on your 1 year wedding anniversary, you and abby get matching tattoos. she gets your first initial on her bicep, tucked between to older pieces she got done in her 20s. you get a capital ‘A’ inked on your hipbone, dangerously close to your cunt. sometimes abby will just pull down your skirt and slide your panties to the side to see it. she loves that you’ve basically branded yourself with her name. you belong to her in every sense of the word
Tumblr media
𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 (𝔫𝔰𝔣𝔴)
✮ abby, being the twisted and tortured soul that she is, her sexual expression is quite dark, her kinks a little fucked up
✮ a little while into your relationship abby reveals to you that one of her personal establishments is a b*sm club that she regularly attended, engaging in sessions with a few submissives she had on her roster. she let them all go, letting them down gently when she began seeing you
✮ the first time you attend the club abby explains it all to you and you take it all in very earnestly. she’s surprised at how open you are and how you’re not running for the hills at some of the kinks she reveals to you
✮ the first time you have a scene together, it’s private, simple. abby establishes a safeword with you (you like the stoplight method) and she fucks your cunt with her thick fingers until your dripping down your thighs, pleading for her to stop. the first time she gives you aftercare you’re so confused as to why she’s being so nice to you. you’re used to hookups, and even some of your partners, just fucking you then rolling over. or just straight up leaving. abby draws a bath for you, with oils and salts for your sore muscles and you fall asleep in her arms submerged in lavender scented bubbles and foam.
✮ you discover that abby has a hardcore exhibitionism kink. she’s taken you against open windows and on balconies, at night and in broad daylight. she’s pressed up into you underneath the dinner table while out with friends. she loves to finger you with a small audience at the club, you on her lap on the sofa, legs spread for everyone to see while she forces your eyes to meet theirs with a painful grip on your jaw
✮ when she proposed to you, abby also presented you with a collar she bought for you to wear during scenes, only if you want to. and around the club occasionally. you’re not sure if you’re going to be into it, but as soon as abby fits it snug around your neck you almost cry from out perfect it feels. it’s the key to easing you into that beautiful submissive haze abby loves to see you in
✮ with abby you kindle a love for shibari. she doesn’t know much about the art but learns and researches extensively for you. sometimes she does decorative ties with pretty rope just to look at you in them- you love the feeling of being constrained and observed. you especially love being suspended, with dozens of eyes on you as you hang from the ceiling. sometimes abby will circle you like you’re prey and she’s a hunter. sometimes she’ll just pet your hair and tell you how pretty you look while you whine and beg for her to touch you more
✮ abby likes to be called mommy and daddy, depending on the day and her mood. mommy when she’s holding you in her lap, cooing at you while you cry from overstimulation, her fingers stuffed inside you. she’s daddy when she’s taking you from the back, smushing your face into the pillows as she fucks you through your fourth orgasm while you struggle to breath
✮ abby likes treating you like her little doll, buying clothes for you and putting them on for you. buckling your shoes too. she enjoyed casually being your dom outside of the club space. ordering for you. physically moving you where she wants you. she gets off on the idea of you being totally dependent on her (but only for the headspace it puts both of you in, she makes it very clear that she wants you to be your own person)
✮ abby usually doesn’t enjoy receiving when it comes to aftercare, but since being with you she lets you do small things for her. intimacy where she’s the focus makes her nervous but you reassure her that you just want to make sure she’s feeling loved. after an intense scene, only after you’re rested and taken care of, she’ll sometimes let you massage her back with vanilla scented oil. she also likes when you wash her hair for her. she has to kneel so you can reach her head since she’s so tall. this being one of the few times she’s ever on her knees for someone,
she’s glad that it’s for you
Tumblr media
my masterlist °˖➴
this was so fun to write, let me know what you think! ⋆˚✿˖°
645 notes · View notes
mandalhoerian · 8 months
Text
ghost to its haunt, I | leon kennedy x reader
Tumblr media
read part 1: moth to a flame pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader summary: Even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt. But this time, it has to be different. word count: 6K warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, peppers of fluff as a treat, smut (blink and you'll miss it), leon being feral from day one like seriously he's unhinged, his negative self-talk notes: this installment comes in two chapters. chapter two is still being written and will be published and linked here when i'm done. header template can be found here. we're nearly at the end besties, thank you for sticking with me until the end, and please enjoy.
🌀 read on ao3! 🌀 NEXT CHAPTER
Tumblr media
i. Leon knew right from day one when you’d breached the solitary safety of his shadowed corner in the bar of his unusual drinking choice, that you were tempting and twice as dangerous as a mirage to a parched man lost in the desert. 
In the pleasantly neon-lit sanctuary of a bustling bar, amidst the cacophony of clinking glasses and spirited conversations, he stuck out like a sore thumb with the air of melancholy around him, making people near his booth uneasy with the way he was observing everything — to them, he was not to be approached, as if one look to his way would be enough for him to start a fight, but in reality it was his inability to relax in crowds, subconscious calculating for unlikely scenarios to unfold and contingency plans on how to get away. Yet he’d wanted to come here just once anyway, see what made here one of Major Krauser’s favorites, it was psychological torture, but Leon did it to himself anyway, knowing so.  
You came to Leon first when nobody would approach him, setting a starting point of the pattern in your relationship where this’d be repeating over and over again. 
The stifling hot humidity of the South American forest and how heavier the stench of blood stuck at the back of his nose still followed him around months after, and you tracked the trail like a shark in the water, it was in the way you’d been openly watching him upon spotting him in his corner, in the way you slid towards him in the booth, eyes glinting, seeking, curious, expecting — giving straight away of how fresh you were to this compared to the poor unfortunate soul before you chasing after Operation Javier. 
You looked young, around his age, but had a certain softness and eagerness that reminded him of an unprepared rookie back in 1998, so before you could get a word in, he’d said, “I suggest you walk away for your own safety. You know how this ends.”  
You know how this ends. 
Such first words. What a way to doom an entire relationship and a person. 
If Leon knew how his words had shaped the reality he’d chosen, he’d have gone with something promising, more open, like, “How’d you know I wanted company?” — he’d expressed himself more, made his attraction more prominent, secured you to him better, but he was always about safety and protection, wasn’t he? Paranoid beyond belief, self-sabotaging. Of course he’d warned you about taking caution so you wouldn’t get hurt, especially given what had happened to the previous journalist looking into the operation. 
Your reaction to this was opting to buy him a drink instead of getting intimidated. Leon had made it clear over and over again he wouldn’t tell you anything and to go your own way. You didn’t know anything about him other than being a connection of the White House to Operation Javier somehow and he certainly wouldn’t be the one reporting this back to the base, so he made sure this was about saving one more person’s life from being ruined in vain even after this brief encounter had led to a hasty hookup in a bathroom stall and eventually to a hotel room like he was some teenager with no control over his dick —
You had ruined everything. 
Unabashedly interested in him and just pushing, eager, genuine, passionate as you kept talking about your job in wanting to expose corruption the more he kept things dry and silent, and he just saw the same spark in you that he had once; how naive, how idiotic, how endearing — such respect-worthy dignity and enthusiasm and drive that you had managed to find him of all people in your pursuit. He’d never been attracted to anyone quite like this, not the same way with Ada, not in that elusively mysterious and alluring, dangerous and unapproachable, thrilling distance, but the other end of the spectrum, the sort that fed on kinship and admiration that made him want to protect you from what he knew would happen if you kept going like this. 
Jesus, it should have been discouraging you from this path and nothing more, instead, Leon had been randomly snapped out of years of dissociation and autopilot since Raccoon City, and for what? Mind-blowing sex he didn’t even know was coming for his throat on a random fall night in 2002? 
Really, it was his routine being broken that had done it.
His life was meticulously governed by strict routines and unwavering habits, as if each day were a precisely choreographed fight, a paragon of order and structure. Leon’s world thrived on meticulous organization, where every document, tool, and weapon had its designated place. Even the symmetry of his living space mirrored the precision of his mind, with every item aligned flawlessly, punctuality eventually becoming second nature to him, his internal clock a finely tuned instrument, ensuring he was never a moment late, not at all a result of being late in his first day as a cop. Time was a precious commodity, a resource he safeguarded fiercely, as he understood that even the smallest delay could have dire consequences. This devotion to structure allowed him to remain laser-focused on his objectives, and also avoid hellish punishments back at Offutt Air Force Base located near Omaha, Nebraska where he had spent quite some time as a special agent trainee.
Military would make a clockwork out of anyone, but being trained under Major Krauser had turned him into a well-oiled machine that only had training and mission objectives in mind. Leon used to be highly adaptable and open to surprises before, but his encounter with you had revealed just how unprepared and anxious to impulses he’d been molded to become. Spontaneity had ended up a stranger to him, an unwelcome disruption that threatened to dismantle his carefully constructed world, and as an extension, anything else was regarded as losing control — which was, an unthinkable notion; he had been trained to maintain composure in the most chaotic of situations. 
There wasn’t even the semblance of composure in how he handled you. 
Never in his wildest dreams would he entertain the thought of someone managing to unbelievably, randomly, turn him on so uncontrollably one day that he’d lose his mind enough to risk public indecency in a fucking bathroom stall with pants around his ankles not only once, but twice. 
Sitting on the toilet with your back to his chest, one leg spread wide open over his knee and the other hiked up in the air from his elbow, you basically limp in his arms as all you could concentrate on was shutting your mouth tight enough not to make noise as he wildly bounced you up and down on his lap — and the next thing he knew after blowing his load right after with no rest whatsoever was that he had you flat against the graffiti-stained door separating a bunch of girls from what the two of you were doing, one hand clamped on your mouth, having you press your thighs together so he could languidly slip back and forth against the tight crevice of your wetness and the plushness combined that he had to use all his control for the door to not rattle and feeling your pussy spasm each time he grazed your clit, his head buried in the crook of your neck whispering filth he didn’t know his mind was capable of conjuring right to your ear with no filter —- how much of a pervert you were to be enjoying this when all it had to take was a peep from you for people right in front of you to discover you were getting off to the thought the humiliation of being looked at while getting fucked from behind, all the while it was Leon who was dying to explode from how horny he was that it was unbearably painful. 
And the only thing he could think about was to hell with it all and the hammering of his heart to hear you moan uncontrollably, he could just plunge inside you right then and there, had to bite down on your clothed shoulder to hold back the impulse, hell, it took everything in him to keep his breathing steady and not heave, every second the girls didn’t leave was dragged torture, his legs were trembling from holding back and the sheer excitement, but holy shit was it concentrated ecstasy that had his eyes rolling behind his head when they had finally left and he’d rammed himself in to the hilt so forcefully that the hinges of the door had almost broken off.
You had consumed him whole, your skin, your scent, your taste, wrapping him in a cocoon of warmth and pleasure and just digesting his whole being that he didn’t even have one grain of logic or common sense as a pea brain or nothing — just that he wanted to keep fucking and it was so soft and everything just felt so good and good god Leon was going to have an aneurysm from overheating because of you.    
The post-nut clarity after all that was interesting to say the least. 
A blood clot had to have shot up to his brain for his sanity to have snapped like that … And for him to think this wasn’t enough and he wanted more as you rested in his embrace — in a fucking bathroom stall. He wasn’t a people person. He simply didn’t do this shit in the first place, what was even happening?
Leon didn’t know what to be embarrassed about: of himself for doing this kind of thing in a place like this or disrespectfully exerting a woman to this degree, he had no idea whatsoever where all the talk about getting discovered had come from, didn’t that make Leon the pervert? Good lord. 
He had to be thankful that you were coming down from a high and had no energy to turn around and look at his face, because you surely would see him transition from all shades of red out of shame. What the actual hell had come over him?  
Leon was made aware that night that it’d been such a long time since he’d felt such a visceral physical response to someone that his whole body was in a flushed flurry — the kind of intensity that hadn’t even scraped the top of his heated need, he couldn’t even think before suggesting you two take this to somewhere else better that he could drown in this feeling some more. 
The man who said this basking in your afterglow and the man who warned you about how this ended were two different people. 
The man at the very beginning of this would have known better than to let himself indulge in you. 
But your pull was worse than that of a black hole’s, and in Leon’s mind, him taking you to a hotel room was equivalent in his mind to tossing you over his shoulder like an impatient caveman foaming at the mouth, and he knew he’d looked so constipated and unenthusiastic about it back then because he was trying to keep his shit together and not let his libido rush straight to his head, it was absolutely batshit crazy that his mouth was fucking salivating over you and he had to physically fight not to get hard where he stood, especially after having a taste of how you melted in his arms and he just couldn’t keep his together and — this was unreal, Leon had never went into a frenzy over someone before and you’d just taken it. 
He wanted to be gentle, enjoy it, savor it, and you weren’t even going anywhere, but even after he’d gotten him and you a room, Leon had taken you like he hadn’t fucked in his life before, like his dick had gotten hard for the first time in his life, and pathetically like he was desperate for his skin to touch another human being’s — and you… 
You. 
You had made everything worse. 
He still remembered that exact moment when your hands found his hair, the gentleness of the caressing contrasting his rough rutting, he remembered how the rhythmic squeaking of the bed stuttered and gave it right away that he was caught off guard even though his head was buried in the cushion of your tits — embarrassing, utterly disgraceful, all that you’d done was pet his fucking head and his heart had purred like a goddamn cat, and even more shameful was that he’d come right on the spot when you’d started pulling on his strands, Jesus fuck, he wanted to die on the spot. 
One condom change and a carry to the bed later (because Leon had shattered upon passing the threshold of the hotel door and he’d wrapped your legs around his hips and had you against the door, again) things had finally begun to become mellow and sensual as he’d started enjoying you, significantly calmer and more collected compared to before, paying more attention to how you liked it and what you liked, where you liked better, putting those observational skills to more gratifying uses. 
Somehow this was the most satiated he’d been yet, actually taking in the sight of you struggling against the pleasure brought him the unexpectedly superior fulfillment to chasing his own height. He was alerted and awake, sensitive to the very last cell watching you, endeared, wanting to give you every last drop of euphoria he could just to see how you’d react to it. And the more he explored, the more he couldn’t get enough, so adorable, so sexy, so hot, how could he take pleasure in making someone cry? How and why the hell couldn’t his dick stay down for five minutes? 
By the time he’d finally become downright spent and quenched the fire inside, the sun had already risen, the floor was just littered with ripped condom packets, you were covered in hickeys, bite marks and bruises that he’d questioned if he was a feral animal, and the sheets were… disgusting. 
Leon was a repenting sinner with an imaginary tail between his tails when he’d wrapped you in clean linen and laid you on the sofa, changed the sheets, and straightened the pillows, getting you to pee and drawing a bath for you afterwards, it was mortifying he’d made you basically unable to walk for the time being, and he surely didn’t deserve your insistence that you two share the bath together, twice as horrified and disturbed at the tender intimacy with which you’d washed him, warm fingers massaging his scalp almost lulling him to sleep.  
Sharing the room service breakfast, streaks of golden sunlight of the early hours washing your face and making the white of your bathrobe glow as he tried not to make it obvious he was ogling, you’d tricked him into promising you a date for all that he’d put you through that night, you’d be calling in sick; and Leon was covering his face in guilt and embarrassment inside even though all that he’d presented you was an abashed grin and an, “As the lady wishes.” — stupidly giddy enough to have lowered his guard (like that idiot in 1998) that you hadn’t suggested this because you wanted information out of him but were genuinely interested in his company, in him. 
He wasn’t overthinking it back then, just reveling in your presence, luxuriating in the fluffy, satisfied, peaceful feeling, new to him, not afraid of how it could be ephemeral. He was drunk, and not conscious about the fact just yet.  
The withdrawals had hit right after parting ways with you — this was a mistake, this was a huge mistake, he shouldn’t have promised anything, he shouldn’t even have done this in the first place. Leon had no time for this, couldn’t even keep a plant alive if he committed, didn’t know how it’d work, nobody was allowed to know about the kind of work he did, the world of bioterrorism was a secret kept so tightly it became nooses around the necks of nosey individuals. 
He just couldn’t allow himself to loosen the leash around his normal because if he did let go of himself, he would make a mistake. That mistake could doom you. 
More importantly than it not being fair to you, he’d be putting you in danger just by being in your proximity. 
All that fretting around, putting the stress of wishing to see you again but the garbage feeling he mustn’t (that he hadn’t expected to make him this moody) into exercising more intensely than before, and ending up scaring the folks around the office unintentionally in work, only to feel immediately like spring had come at the drop of a hat when you’d called saying because he hadn’t, apparently, and you were waiting for him. 
This was terrifying. How you made him feel... It was entirely out of his control. 
I suggest you walk away for your own safety. You know how this ends.
Leon should have kept telling this to himself. 
ii. The date was at your place, planned from start to finish by you, an attentiveness and special treatment he didn’t deserve, but Leon got warm inside anyway, especially after you said this seemed like the better option since he didn’t seem to do well in crowds. Something about him being noticed on this kind of personal level had caused him to confuse his right from his left and he was sure his palms were sticky just from that and the way you smiled. 
You’d said you wanted to get to know him, and Leon unfortunately didn’t have enough going out experience to decide if cooking together and then sitting down to solve a murder mystery game was the most creative thing ever or not, because he thought it was. 
At the end of this, he knew you much better, and had shown you himself in a way that wouldn’t be possible by answering questions. 
Leon had approached the murder mystery solving game with a calculated and analytical mindset, trained to think strategically, he had diligently assessed every clue, scrutinizing them for hidden meanings and connections. He hadn’t meant to get invested this much, but he had ended up approaching the game like a covert operation and a blast from the past to his police academy days, examining evidence with sharp attention to detail and requiring evidence instead of just a hunch like you kept hitting him with. Each clue was like a piece of intel, and he’d taken the murder of Mrs. Huntington very seriously. Relying on his instincts, leveraging his experience in decoding complex situations to unravel the layers of the mystery, his logical thinking and ability to tackle every single thread of this one by one had brought structure and organization to their investigative process.
In contrast, you had embraced the game with innate curiosity and unlike him, a childlike interest — like a game should be perceived. As an investigative journalist, he’d seen that you had a natural knack for delving deep into stories and uncovering hidden narratives, embarking on the game with a keen eye for the human element, looking beyond the surface level clues to understand the motivations and emotions of the characters involved. You thrived on the adrenaline rush of piecing together the puzzle, always seeking out the next lead or breakthrough, and brainstorming on the possibilities, which clashed with Leon, leading to a sort of bickering that was entertaining, really. Your inquisitive nature and intuition led you to explore alternative perspectives, constantly questioning assumptions and seeking out overlooked details.
When was the last time he’d had this much fun? Leon didn’t remember. 
All that you’d given him that night was a kiss, he hadn’t minded you halting things before the heavy makeout session that had his brain melting like jello could escalate into something more, and he definitely didn’t mind being hypnotized into saying yes for doing this again sometime in the future — when he should have cut things off. 
Leon really couldn’t seem to think coherently around you.
And, despite his better judgment, there was a third time. There also was a fourth. A fifth. A sixth. Seventh. Until he forgot it was a matter of numbers and he simply kept seeing you — that was it. 
Amidst the unlabeled dates that unfolded between you and Leon, there was an undeniable disparity in your cooking styles. While he considered himself a decent cook, you couldn't help but find his dishes lacking in flavor and spice, often describing them as bland. Nonetheless, there was a silver lining to this culinary discrepancy: Leon's competence in the kitchen ensured that all ten of his fingers remained intact, a feat that seemed elusive whenever you attempted to prepare a meal.
Your culinary misadventures had reached a crescendo one fateful day, as Leon returned home to a scene of chaos. The kitchen lay in disarray, food scattered about, a bloody rag, and a knife ominously present. Heart shooting up to his throat, he practically shouted, "Oh my god, what the hell happened?"
It was then that you revealed your mishap, a deep and severe cut that required stitches. Despite the severity of the injury, you had opted not to seek medical attention to avoid the burden of an exorbitant bill. Unbeknownst to you, Leon possessed exceptional suturing skills, honed through the necessity of tending to his own wounds after the hazards of his missions. He hadn't disclosed this fact of course, but rather emphasized his meticulousness when it came to first aid that he’d taken a course on it in the past.
He kept on boomeranging back to you every time he regretted the previous entanglement the morning after, dreading this was bound to end badly and he should leave you alone. He could… He could get sex elsewhere, he was a dog on a leash because stumbling on physical compatibility on this level had made him an idiot, that must have been it, he thought.  
But that wasn’t the issue at all. Nothing had thrown him off and even affected his daily life the way your absence did. It wasn’t craving the skin contact and fantasizing about the next affair that did Leon the damage, it was simply wanting to see you and be by you that even his appetite was lost along the way — he had been scared of what this was. The utter enormity of it made him panic. 
In the depths of his soul, a bubbling longing simmered up and up, getting close to the surface the more he deprived himself of you, taking over him with an intensity that defied description. His heart echoed with the fading echoes of your laughter, a melody he yearned to hear once more and came back to him when he least expected it — in the field he could chase away all thoughts and concentrate, but in the waking moments devoid of action, his thoughts collapsed toward you, unable to escape the gravitational pull of your absence. A hunger, primal and unyielding, gnawed at his core, a hunger for the touch of your hand in his hair, the warmth of your embrace, the nightmare-free, cloud-soft sleeps by your side. He’d come to find solace in fragments of memories, savoring the remnants of your presence, like faded polaroids etched in his mind. It was unbelievable to notice the world around him grew muted and colorless, as if drained of life's vibrancy, each passing day intensifying the ache, searing his heart with an inconsolable longing, fueling he urge he kept resisting to bridge the chasm of his own making that separated him and you. 
Leon had to accept he liked you despite himself, liked you to the point of no return, and that he was afraid to admit the stronger word. 
iii. He couldn’t tell you who he truly was and precisely because of that, couldn’t fully let you in. 
Countless reasons came up to defend why this was for the best — it not only protected his heart but also protected you by keeping you at a certain distance from all of this ridiculous baggage…
And he took notice of you noticing and being accepting regardless, settling for whatever you could when you shouldn’t. 
He was such a selfish man to keep taking advantage of that to stay however he was able to, a hedgehog’s dilemma. 
Leon had managed to find boundaries of your unpredictability and had managed to establish a routine, an ebb and flow of some sorts, entirely dependent on the volatile schedule of his missions that you had no idea of and tried acting nonchalant about — the absences, the bruises, the emotional unavailability after losses he had to keep to himself. He had to be wearing you down, crawling back through the dirt and the blood and the undying monstrosities only to be mute about everything and go straight for your embrace in search of a moment's peace. 
And what about you?   
The part of himself that was still sane knew he was making you suffer because of his selfishness, stringing you along in this unlabeled affair with the excuse it was with your eventual well-being in mind when it was easier for him — in the sense that if it came to the worst, you’d be able to come out of this on top and just hate and keep blaming him so you wouldn’t be hurt in the long run. 
But it was selfish, he still wanted to keep being around you, though, didn’t have the right or face to say he wanted you, so orbiting you was the best he could afford to do. 
Just for a little longer. A bit more. 
Leon wished you would be done with him and tell him to leave you alone so he could finally get out of your life for good, but in all his returns you welcomed him coming back with open arms. It was the garden of Eden and he didn’t belong there, feeling like a pillager sneaking in and getting whatever he wanted and fucking right off afterwards, each and every time leaving you with less and less and a faded viridescence. 
But he couldn’t stay. Not for as long as he wanted. Never in the way you deserved. 
And before Leon knew it, he and you had toppled two years of his bullshit — and you were still here throughout it all.. 
In 2004, the truth of bioterrorism and the existence of monstrous abominations with no regard for human ethics were thrust upon the world, and wiped yet another Raccoon City off from the map of the mediterranean — and things got so much more confusing in regards to what was allowed to be secret or not.
Unbeknownst to you, it was this incident that unknowingly contributed to the growing rift between you. Leon carried the heavy burden of witnessing the President's decision to deny AUPIT’s assistance to the FBC, leaving him as a mere bystander while hundreds of lives were lost due to the incompetence and inexperience of those involved. Even Terrasave, an organization not known for its extraction expertise, fared better in their efforts.
The Terragrigia Panic became a turning point, a catalyst for Leon's introspection, the weight of the world he couldn’t lift one finger to help pressed upon him, driving him towards self-destruction and an ever-deepening spiral of despair, soul scarred by the consequences of inaction and the haunting memories of present lives lost and a past city long in the dust. He questioned the system that bound his hands, preventing him from making the difference he so desperately yearned for. It was during these tumultuous times that you stood by him, unaware of the inner battles he fought and the toll it took on his well-being, and it made him feel so much worse about everything. 
His heart trammeled with the inevitable conclusion he could no longer ignore, he made the painful decision to set you free from the grip of his own shortcomings. Overwhelmed by a sense of unworthiness and consumed by his own greed, he knew he had to release you, unable to bear the weight of his own inadequacy any longer.
The timing, eerily close to the anniversary of the day he first met you, held a bitter irony. It was as if fate had conspired to test the limits of his resolve, presenting him with the most challenging mission of his life just as he made this life-altering choice. Bound for Spain, his path was paved with uncertainty, fraught with danger — but he’d sworn that things would be different this time and he could actually return, reformed and squeaky clean, somehow this mission could be his saving grace and actually wipe his brain clean of grime and rust.
The break-up had loomed before Leon like an impending storm, and he had steeled himself for the emotional turbulence that would surely follow, however, what caught him off guard was the resignation from you, as if you had anticipated his intentions and thoughts, ready to release him with open arms — eager to say yes the moment the words would slip out of his mouth. 
Devastated would be an understatement to describe him — he’d sat frozen on the kitchen chair, his mind a tempest of confusion and disbelief, the composed and scripted nature of your words waterboarding him as you continued to speak, nonchalantly expressing your expectations of this inevitable departure. You seemed braced, almost as if you had been reading his mind, as if you knew this day would come. The nonchalant manner in which you spoke of his leaving, seemingly devoid of any emotional attachment, tore at his heart. It was like time itself had paused, and Leon felt the dissociation creep in, his mind unable to process the scale of what was happening, the world around him blurring, finding himself lost in a void of numbness. How could it be that you were so ready to let him go? How could you speak of no hard feelings when his heart was shattering into countless fragments?
Yeah, right. 
Betrayal was it. 
He’d felt betrayed by you when he had no right to be angry like that — because he had warned you right from the start. 
You know how this ends. 
You’d taken his advice. Leon should have, as well. 
iv. It wasn’t only his jacket that’d got taken away by the village freaks, but also the watch you had given him as a gift — which the loss of was more personal and lethal to him.
And he had no time to look for it between saving and taking care of Ashley and trying to navigate a much bigger conspiracy. 
Coming to terms with the fact that it was gone, just like you, seemed poetically fitting, a form of karma that he should lose a memento of you when he hadn't proven himself deserving of it in the first place.
At the back of his mind was the memory of you trying to act like it wasn’t for anything special when Leon knew it was the first anniversary of the day you and he met, you just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, walking around eggshells around him with the vaguest boundaries and definitions unspelled so he wouldn’t run away — Leon knew all too well. 
He had mentioned going for some type of Casio G-Shock when recounting he’d been meaning to buy a new one, and you’d apparently paid attention to that, not at all questioning why he would want a solar powered watch with 1312 ft. of water resistance — and had given him another much more sporty Longines stainless steel chronograph watch on the side, absolutely humbling him on the spot with just how much money you had to have spent on these two — and the amount of thought you had put into it. 
Modifications on both watches were specifically allowed by him, he'd gotten your initials and the Roman symbols of that day in the fall of 2002 engraved at the back of them to deceive himself, interchangeably using them, the Casio one in the missions, and the Longines in casual days, not bothering to buy any other watch for himself after that. You would see him wearing it all the time, but fortunately for his abashed pride, never commented on it, having no idea just how important they were to him. 
And it was Ada who casually reunited him with it, her throw of the watch certainly gentler than that of the jet ski key’s, as she was walking away with the Amber, a mysterious, knowing glance in his way, a perfectly shaped smile on her glossy lips. “Here. Consider this an equal exchange. Learn to take better care of special things, Leon.”
Somehow she wasn’t just talking about the watch and it irritated him, but she was right. 
v. The depths of Leon's feelings for you were intertwined with an overwhelming sense of terror. 
It terrified him to realize how much he needs you, how your presence has become an integral part of his existence, that you were now the surface he swam up to breathe after hours in the dark of the ocean, and the desire for reciprocation, for you to need him just as deeply, and knowing that you do but unable to bring himself to do anything about it, all filled him with longing and apprehension, both holding hands hiding behind the walls of his own making, pulling each other back as they kept watching you from afar. 
He feared that he may not be enough for you, that his flaws and past were going to inevitably cause harm and ruin.
The emotions that surged through him when you were near, the way his heart raced and his thoughts became consumed — it was new, it was unknown, it was exhilarating, it was petrifying. The spotlight of the vulnerability he’s put in was a double-edged sword, for it exposed him to the potential for joy, but also, immense pain. 
He could lose everything and it would lay waste to his soul, yet in the face of this fear, he couldn’t bear the thought of pushing you away completely, because the terror of being without you somehow had become equally paralyzing that he couldn’t breathe in the PTSD-rooted nightmares of them anymore.
Thus, you had found yourselves trapped in a state of limbo, unsure of where to go or how to proceed, but it was his fault, he thought of himself as a flightless bird sitting up on a roof with you, who could obviously fly; if he attempted to follow you he could fall, if he let you go you would migrate to warmer lands and would never come back. so you were both stuck there, and none of the scenarios involved — what if he could also fly? What if he could do what he thought he wasn’t capable of?
The thought of losing you now, after experiencing the depth of how far he could go with you; the promise, the mirage, the illusion, the dream, was a sense of impending devastation. And yet, he was plagued by the fear that it may already be too late to salvage what he once had with you. What he could have with you, if he allowed himself to surrender — 
Leon had changed, he wasn’t the same person, but he also hadn’t changed, hadn’t lost himself no matter the cost, hadn’t strayed from the original path he was treading on — he was capable of saving people, capable of changing the ending.  
Spain was as traumatizing as it was eye-opening and life-changing, through the reunion with Ada, the betrayal of Major Krauser, the loss of Luis and the successful extraction of Ashley, one single thread of hope had been holding Leon up and running:
He had to get back to you. 
He would come back to you, no matter what, even from the grave, even knowing there was a chance you wouldn’t take him back. To hell with taking comfort in a self-defined ending, to hell with the facade of protecting you when it was just protecting him, to hell with everything. 
This time, it had to be different. 
429 notes · View notes
neteyamslovrr · 11 months
Text
RETURN - PT3
Tumblr media
summary: five years ago he left you. left you alone with nothing but memories of your love. so how dare he come back now?
contents: 2.8k words, depression, angst, slight conflict, not very well proof read but that brings authenticity lmao
authors note: thankyou all for being so patient with my upload <33 ALSO LOOK AT WHAT MY BAE @cinetrix made omg (its the header pic) THATS GROWN UP NETEYAM THATS OUR BABY hes so handsome and bae is so talented and kind
previous / next
Tumblr media
It had been over a month since they Sully’s had returned to the clan. While they slid back into their forest way of life, like a lost puzzle piece that was finally found you felt like you were back to being a bunch on scrambled up pieces with no way to connect yourself back together again.
Seeing him was a constant reminder of the despair that took over your life for years. The rotted you from the inside out leaving you as a shell of a woman as he took your soul with him when he left.
Those closest to you noticed your decline. Especially Mo’at. Someone you had to start seeing regularly due to your mothers pestering.
“Child…it is not hard to see the way your spirit has left you.” She spoke softly yet with so much truth it felt as is she had stabbed you with a dagger.
You were sat on the floor of her large medical tent that was set up in High camp. It was cold, the cool breeze making the fine hairs in your body stand up as you consciously avoided any gaze that Mo’at threw at you.
“He took it with him.” It felt like a deep dark secret that you had ripped out of your throat as it sliced its way up. Admitting that Neteyam had broken you so much that he had managed to start cracking you away with his return made you feel weak. Made you feel defeated.
“Maybe…he is here to give it back.” Mo’at sighed softly, a kind hand pushing your hair out of your face as she crouched in front of you. “Dear child your heart cries out. You must listen when your body talks to you.”
“I am afraid, so afraid.” Mo’at nodded letting you fall into her arms, a much needed hug that you craved for.
“Fear is never unreasonable child, but do not let cowardice infect your heart like it infected his.”
Tumblr media
Neteyam had desperately tried to even get you to look at him after the last time you both conversed. It ended in him running away. As soon as he walked off he wished he could have socked Va’tep. Knocked him hard enough that his grubby paws would never caress your precious skin ever again.
He would try and talk to you only to be shut down by a harsh glare or excuse to leave. However whenever he even entered the same room as you he would immediately watch you excuse yourself and leave.
And Eywa did it crush him. To see how opposed he was to your presence. To see how his face repulsed you so much. He knew it was naïve to think he could return to you running into his arms so he could spin you around and hold you close. It was stupid for him to think you would ever wait for him. Not when he abandoned you.
A habit he had as a child was always to go to his grandmother for wisdom. Something he had sorely lacked the past half decade. He knew you were close with her. He knew she was the wisest woman this tribe had. But he was also terrified of a reality check that would hit him so harshly he wouldn’t know how to react. That’s why he was so resistant on approaching Mo’at.
But when he looked over to the top levels of High Camp where you and Va’tep had sat yourselves as you weaved expertly. He saw the way Va’tep’s smile was not as wide as it could be, he noticed that your eyes never met his even as you talked. He stared closely, squinting his eyes to focus on how Va’tep’s hands would crawl up your thigh and your body would stiffen and squirm instead on relaxing into the touch. As if his hands were grating your perfect skin.
When he saw how miserable you were when you looked away from Va’tep to wipe your eyes subtly. His heart sunk. He could not go on without you, he couldn’t continue without being able to get you back.
Tumblr media
Neteyam hesitantly opened the curtains of his grandmother’s tent as he sucked in a nervous breath.
Her ears perked up immediately to the sound. “Neteyam…I expected you sooner child.” Her eyes were always sharp, enough to slice the strongest man in half.
Neteyam let out a soft chuckle. “I assume you know why I am here.” He sat beside her, shuffling awkwardly on the mat so he could watch his grandmother mush together fine pastes that turned into her medicines .
“Is she troubling your mind?” Even the mention of your cut his soul, like a sweet melody that sudden struck the wrong chord.
“Grandmother… I know I messed up. I know I abandoned her… if I could take back everything I did, I would in a heartbeat.” His voice was pained, head hung low in shame. “I just… I just want her back.”
Mo’at nodded as she laid an empathetic hand on his back. “You must give her time…”
“But I have already been here for so long! I know I was gone for so…so long but I thought she may have at least… warmed up to me slightly. I don’t expect her to change completely. I just want to be able to talk to her, look into her eyes. I miss the warmth I felt when I saw her smile…I never see her smile anymore.”
Neteyam tried desperately not to cry, but oh how difficult it was when he felt the weight of your absence lay so heavily on his chest.
Mo’at let out a sigh, one that felt heavy, one that changed the atmosphere as she exhaled. “She is scared child. She was…she was gone once you left. Your absence was sorely missed, but it truly broke her. There was nothing left of her when you left.”
Neteyam said nothing, though his eyes begged for some sort of explanation, his pupils pleaded as his entire focus was centred on the words exiting his grandmother’s mouth.
Mo’at sucked in a sharp breath, repeating your despair was always hard, to think you experienced such depression. “The day you left she didn’t stop crying. For days she replaced the strongest waterfall in the forest. Her sobs racked through the village as she cried your name out. She screamed it in her sleep, she sobbed it as she woke. She was completely broken. But that was not the worst of it.”
Neteyam already felt his heart sinking. It floated down as he thought more about the anguish he had caused you. His ears hung low in shame as he attentively listen as Mo’at continued to speak.
“It was after the tears. The acceptance. The betrayal. She was no longer her, she was a shell, a corpse. The poor child…she didn’t move for months. No one could get her to leave her hammock, she laid there for days, she didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t speak. She was nothing.”
Neteyam let out a whimper. One that tried to cover up the sob that was aching to escape him. Guilt racked through him as he could barely look in Mo’at’s eyes as she continued to speak.
“Some days I look back and remember the state she was in, the way her body was so frail, so weak. She was so sick, riddled with the disease of heartbreak. My child I know you left her here because it was safe. Child I know you thought were saving your lover. But Neteyam…she does not want to remember her anguish, but every time she looks at you she is remembered of those times.”
“What could I possibly do” His voice is raspy and quiet. Barely able to let out a noise as his throat betrays him.
“Create new memories, let her remember new days with you, why she loved you so much. Enable her to let go of the sadness she holds in her heart that filled in the place you took from her.”
Neteyam nods. His mind swirling as a million epiphanies hit him at once. There was no way he could ever forgive himself for causing you sorrow, but he only prayed that you would be able to feel enough forgiveness to let him put back the missing puzzle piece in the jigsaw of your heart.
Tumblr media
Va’tep was Tarsem’s brother, the Olo’eyktan. So Va’tep was his right hand man, right beside him through every decision and every battle. Which meant as Va’tep’s promised mate, had a large amount of expected participation in war party meeting such as this.
“If we attack from the east we will get a clear shot towards the demons.” Va’tep said as he drew out a map with a stick onto the large plot of dirt that everyone was circled around.
You couldn’t help but notice the flaws in his plan. East was directly in front of the base the demons had there. While we would have clear a view…there would be significantly more danger.
“Va’tep…I think we should maybe approach it from the south.” You hated speaking up in these meetings, as all the warriors’ beady eyes locked onto you. It made you queasy, as if you were going to spew instead of saying the words you were thinking.
Va’tep’s eyes sharpen as he looks as if you had slapped him across the face with your suggestion. “The south has many sight obstacles…it will be harder to navigate” His voice was deep, and husky. It was obvious he was starting to fume.
“But the base is right there. It would be dangerous to approach that direction!” You raise your voice slightly, only in a way to show how desperate you were to get your point across.
Neteyam watched this interaction closely. Studying every single inch of your body language. He always knew how wise you were when it came to stuff like this. You were always calculating the best solution for anything that may spring up in the battlefield. When Jake was Olo’eyktan, you were one of his greatest assets because of your knowledge.
The back and forth goes on for a while as no other warrior dared to speak up. Until he did. Neteyam of course.
“She’s right…there would be much more danger if we were to take the East route.” As soon as you heard his voice it felt like a spotlight of hope was shun onto your heart.
Va’tep grunted at the unwanted input. “The South route is a cowardice route. Something I guess you can sympathize with.” His words were like venom, scorching Neteyam as he stared daggers into him.
“The East route is brazen, unsafe and uncalculated. Something you definitely can understand. Isn’t that right Va’tep?” Neteyam rarely stooped to a level this low, but with the overhanging threat of you being shut down by your ‘mate’ was enough to make Neteyam seethe.
“I’ll show you something you’ll understand-”
Va’tep fumed as Tarsem decided it was his time to step in, changing the subject and postponing the decision for further analysis. But you didn’t forget the way your heart-beat as Neteyam supported you. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Supported.
Tumblr media
The day turned to dusk as you sat by the river, kicking your feet in the cool water as you listened to the world around you. Each sound was perfectly tuned together, a perfect song of the world.
You heart-beat is slow, resting on your hands as the dirt meets your soft palms. Your eyes closed to protect themselves from the harsh rays of light that shun down onto your body. It was peaceful, it was calm.
The unfamiliar sound of crunching leaves grew behind you. Ears perked up tail swishing in alert you turn to see Neteyam approaching.
You can’t deny the dread you feel when you see him. And you can’t deny the way your heart beats like crazy whenever you are close enough to see how much he grew. How much he changed.
You wonder if he thought about you. If he ever noticed the changes of your mature figure or if he couldn’t notice if you looked different to how he remembered you.
“Hey you.” His voice was sweet and musky, enough to send shivers down your spine as you refused to meet his golden eyes.
“Hi there.” Your voice was always quiet…but these five years made it dull. As if there was nothing much else for it to be excited  about.
“I thought I would find you here.” Your brows moved in curiosity, body facing him as he sat beside you, waving his defined legs in the water.
“Why’s that?”
“This was our river…do you remember.” Oh you remember. How could you forget. This river was the one thing you held into when he left. As you slept on the riverbed pretending the rushing water was his soft voice hushing you to sleep.
“Yes…I do.” Neteyam felt a rush of joy run through him. Maybe it was hope. Hope to get you back. Hope to show just how much you mean to him, that you are his treasure. He let out a soft chuckle, fighting the urge to let his fingers slip over your knuckles. He knew it was too soon.
“You were wise in the meeting today.” He said earnestly, looking at you with nothing but sincerity as he watched a blush form on your face, as you turned away from him. Avoiding his intense stare.
“It was just common sense.” You shrug, trying to not seem flattered. “I am at the meetings for a reason.”
“Well…it was still impressive. Was your mate as impressed?” The subject of Va’tep left a sour taste in his mouth and a sour look on your face.
“Please do not speak of him.” You say defeated. Va’tep was a sore reminder in your mind of how you were nothing but a trophy to your parents. A woman to marry off to gain rank.
You were lucky enough to be fated with Neteyam. But it all crumbled when he left. Everything did. Like an earthquake that broke the foundation of every single building in your soul.
Neteyam gave a curious hum, nodding. “Why not?”
“Neteyam. Stop.” He freezes at the tone of your voice, his mind begging that he did not mess up the harmonious moment you were both sharing together.
“W-What?”
“Neteyam…please have mercy on my heart.” You sucked in a sharp breath as you looked into Neteyams watery eyes. “Please.”
He frowned at your plead. “Have mercy on yourself… please… please have mercy on me. And I will never hurt your heart again.” Neteyam gasps after he talked, his sentence being so vulnerable it took the breath out of him.
“I can’t do this…Neteyam you know I can’t” And oh how you wanted to run away with him. To escape your dull life with Va’tep and be able to freely be who you were. To find yourself once again. But it was all too much, his absence took your hope. But he was adamant on giving it back.
“…We can… trust me. Please we can start over… I know. I know I have hurt you, I have scarred your heart. But on the great mother’s name, I will never leave you again… you were my everything and still are. Please don’t think for second I ever stopped loving you.”
The tears started running down your cheeks, but you barely noticed as you stared into the ripples of the water. His words seeping into your skin like a tender kiss.
“Neteyam I’m afraid.” It was barely a whisper. A soft confession that made your lips quivered. “I’m afraid of losing you and myself again.” Neteyam frowned, his brows furrowed as he took his rough fingers to turn your face towards him. His thumb wiping the tears off delicately.
“you have every right to be afraid… but please let me prove to you… that its okay to let go of your fears. Let me... please.”
And in that moment it was as if a switch flipped in you. Every worry washing away as you felt his warmth once again. The years of built up wishes and cravings for him were finally met. As his gaze melted into you, a sad smile across his face as he held onto you tenderly. Every ounce of love pouring into you.
“…please show me how to let go…”
Tumblr media
thankyou so much for reading my lovelies!! reblogs + replies extra appreciated!!
series taglist (closed): @notsaelty @mommyneytiri @hannabanana-09 @gloryavila @peachinsominac @jaidalise @neqeyam @hello222sthings @tsuteysyawntu @neyetams @yhern05 @emjeez @adaiasafira @kiri-tuk @yaya6765 @biscuitbeater15 @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @plooloo @savvysscandles @dilucslilmeowmeow @69cocktimusprime @newjeansbonnie @chatoicboy @pinkpantheris @plzfeedmebread @afro-hispwriter @lollife1617 @goddesslilithmoriarty @cinetrix @grierpilots @melsunshine @valentineheartzz @tsveria @mikeyswifie @junnniiieee07 @wifeyofeveryone @baebinana @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @neteyamssbaby @taleiak @cheyehc @shoyos-sugarbaby @be3flow3r
everything taglist: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @neteyamyawne @neteyamssbaby @oceanstar19 @sharkybabe9 @laylasbunbunny @s-surreality
732 notes · View notes
ashensgrotto · 3 months
Text
Never Had a Friend (like Me) - Part 1
Tumblr media
Original art piece by pfbatakopd on twitter (Used only for Header. Do NOT REPOST ORIGINAL ART)
Part 1 (You Are Here) Part 2 Part 3
YandereSoulmate! AU:
Part 1 (Am I Feeling Love?)
Part 2 (Protective)
Part 3A & Part 3B (Poor Unfortunate Souls)
Characters: Azul Ashengrotto X F!Reader
Word Count: 9,105
Synopsis: A chance for redemption comes in the form of a wish…
Author’s Notes: Ok, here we go. I received an anonymous message in my inbox for the next part of the Yandere!Soulmate series and I was actually going to work on it - but with the arrival of GloMas, working on the next part of ‘Raison D’être,’ wanting to finish “Weren’t You Aware, Angelfish?”, AND the holidays, time got away from me and I forgot about Scarabia’s segment for a short while. 
However, because you all seem to enjoy this and want to know if the tako has redeemed himself - I figured I would work to get this part done. Now, warning - Pompefiore’s part is going to take a bit of time to complete because I will have to wiggle my way through my memory bank and replay a few parts of it (which is approx 76 chapters in length for those players who haven’t made it that far into the game yet) since I’m working so deep into Ignihyde’s chapter right now (which is a doozy - I’m still in chapter 67-tower 1, oof help).
This one is also going to be split into three parts - I promise it will not be a long wait for the second & third parts as this is my Christmas gift to all of my readers <3
Thank you all for your continued support!
Warnings are as follows: yandere behaviors, manipulation, imprisonment, & hypnosis
***
I’m in the mood, to help you dude
You ain’t never had a friend like me.
***
It had been weeks since the last overblot incident… and just as long since Azul last saw you.
He sat in his office, looking over paperwork for the last quarter and rubbing his brow with worry.
The profits had started to steadily decrease following his overblot, causing the Monstro Lounge to slowly suffer the loss, like an infection slowly eating away a mer’s life. He had no one really to blame but himself for that… Azul had lost control, let his obsession get out of hand and had hurt the people closest to him.
Jade… Floyd… you.
Azul let out another large sigh and set the report down, taking his glasses off and rubbing his face. He had considered going back to the Coral Sea for holiday, but was unable to due to two reasons; one, the ice floes would’ve made the journey too dangerous to travel alone - especially since Jade and Floyd had already prepared to stay at NRC for the holidays, and two… you were still here.
Not in Octavinelle where Azul had wanted you to be, but in a rundown shack on the school property.
The building had been a dorm, once upon a time, but ghosts had moved in and scared the students to the point that the building was deemed ‘unsafe.’ However, with your charms and personality, the ghosts were easily persuaded and welcomed you in with open arms - though Azul had a sneaky suspicion that both the headwardens of Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul had likely persuaded the otherworldly spirits in exchange for access to both of their dorms. Regardless, with you no longer in Octavinelle and now at the mercy of the headmage’s “generous” nature, Azul could only watch from the shadows as you now tended to the school property in a janitorial role.
Azul leaned back in his chair, his thoughts plagued by you before an obnoxious ringing noise filled the office.
He grumbled, picking the phone up, “Monstor Lounge, this is Azul speaking.”
“Hello baby, how are you?” the familiar voice of his mother on the other end made Azul jump in surprise.
“Mother,” Azul coughed, “Hello - I apologize I hadn’t had a chance to call you. We’ve been busy lately.”
“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” his mother answered, “It’s been busy here too… but everything’s been calming down since the ice floes came - though I was surprised to see your letter that you were considering coming home for the holidays.”
‘Shit…’ Azul had completely forgotten about that - when (Y/N) had lived in the Octavinelle at the beginning of the year, Azul had entertained the idea of potentially inviting her to his home for the holiday, slowly and suringly getting her accustomed to the idea of staying with him - although it would prove to be a difficult task, especially now.
“However, I’m assuming that you changed plans at the last minute,” his mother continued.
“Y-yes, I was indeed planning on coming… however, Jade and Floyd both decided to stay behind so I chose to stay as well,” Azul answered, the lie slipping easily off his silver tongue, “Someone has to keep those two in line, after all.”
His mother snickered, “Don’t be saying that in front of their father though. Sevens knows what the moray will do if you say anything like that.”
Azul nodded, clearing his throat, “Um, well… What's going on with you, then? The restaurant still alright? How’s Finn?”
“Finn’s well - busy as always,” his mother answered, “Business has been getting better - hired several new staff members as well… a few sweet mers around your age, Zully.”
Azul rolled his eyes, “Mother… we’ve had this talk. I’m… not interested.”
“You might not be, but it will happen one day,” his mother’s voice was calm and soothing before she sighed on the end of the phone, “However… I have a sneaky feeling that you’re still upset about what I told you all those years ago.”
Azul bit his lip, answering, “Of course not… Soulmates? That’s ridiculous.”
“Azul…” his mother’s voice turned into a scolding tone, “There are plenty of fish out there - I know you’re still pretty young to be thinking about it, considering a mer’s life is longer than most, but shorter than a fae’s… but I only want you to be happy.”
“I am, mother,” Azul tried to smile, “I’m content where I am - I’ve gotten stronger, my business is growing, and… I’ve learned so much.”
“Perhaps, but allow me to give you a little insight - it’s something I learned long ago,” his mother prompted, “Happiness, though may be defined as ‘the state of joy or contentment,’ is typically filled by three main parts of life; success, dedication, and personal. Dedication and success go hand in hand with each other - if you work hard and are dedicated, you achieve success - even if the tasks prove to be difficult to the point that you might fail over and over again. Personal can mean time for yourself - spending time with your hobbies or doing what you love… spending time with those you care about even.”
Azul listened to his mother’s words, thinking.
“I know that you are successful and you’re dedicated,” his mother continued, “But you won’t achieve happiness if you just focus on those two things - take time for yourself now and again, look for stronger connections within your friendships… and look for someone that will want to support you and you support them.”
“I… I think I understand…” Azul answered, “I’ll… take your words into consideration.”
“I hope so - your grandmother taught me that when I was still a little octo fry many years ago,” his mother answered, a teasing tone caught in her voice.
Azul couldn’t help but smile, “Yes… Nanna always did know what was best.”
“Yes, she did, still does even… Well, I should probably let you go, then - you have a lot of stuff going on there,” his mother let out a sigh, “Just remember… I love you, baby. Merry Christmas.”
“I love you too… momma. Merry Christmas and I’ll see you at the end of the year.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Zully. Stay safe.”
Azul smiled and hung the phone up, sitting back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. 
“Finding that so-called ‘other half’ is like - well - like the story of the mermaid princess and her longing to be with a human. It’s a rare occurrence that only happens once in a millennium if not longer. Anyone can be happy with or without their soulmate, Azul. There’s no reason you should go to such lengths to be with someone who may not even exist…”
Azul shook his head at the memory of that day years ago - he wanted to forget… but sevens knows he couldn’t forget you.
A sudden loud crash had Azul bolting upright, his features twisting in annoyance. As far as he knew, the only ones in the lounge were Jade and Floyd… which could only mean one thing. 
Trouble.
“Those two morons…” Azul gritted his teeth, standing from his chair, “If I catch the lounge in a disarray again…”
He grabbed his jacket, tossing it over his shoulders, before placing his hat upon his head, the magestone pen morphing into the headwarden’s silver octopus topped cane. He hurried from his office and headed into the lounge.
Entering the lounge, Azul’s eyes widened at the sight.
The lounge was damaged - several tables and chairs were overturned, marred by huge cracks and scratches while lamps lay in pieces on the floor, the glass orbs scattered into a thousand fragments on the carpeted flooring and the magestones cracked and shattered as well. Azul’s eyes narrowed on Jade and Floyd’s figures, but realized they weren’t alone after all. Several students from the Scarabia dorm were there as well, their wands out and at the ready - pointing them at Jade and Floyd, who seemed to be guarding something on the floor.
Azul’s eyes widened in surprise at seeing Kalim’s magic carpet as well as Grim hiding behind the remaining two members of Octavinelle - and they weren’t alone.
You were there as well, cowering behind Jade and Floyd’s intimidating heights as the Scarabia students glared daggers at you.
“There’s no escape for you now, thieves!” 
“Surrender quietly!”
“Mrow?!” Grim held his paws up, “You chased us all the way here?! You guys are seriously stubborn, you know that?”
Azul remained quiet for a moment, his eyes shifting to look you over - noticing how you had one arm close to your body. Were you hurt?
Azul’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his shoes echoing in the lounge as his stern voice addressed the situation, “What is all the commotion at this late hour?”
The students turned to look at Azul, one of them speaking quietly, “Y-you’re… Azul Ashengrotto, the housewarden of Octavinelle!”
“Would you care to explain what is going on?” Azul asked calmly, moving to stand in front of you with Jade and Floyd behind him.
“It’s none of Octavinelle’s business,” another student tsked, “Just hand over the two of them quietly.”
Azul crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he eyed you and Grim out of the corner of his eye, “Now that I’m looking closer at it - it appears to be (Y/N) and Grim sprawled out on our floor, quivering and covered in dust. Heh - I almost thought they were a pair of dust cloths.”
“Azul, please,” Azul met your gaze, “save us with your spirit of benevolence.”
“Hmm…” Azul turned back to the group of Scarabia before him.
“If you refuse to hand them over, you’ll be blamed for their wrongdoings as well,” the student warned.
“Hey - are ya yankin’ my tail here?!” Floyd’s eyes widened dangerously, his teeth peering out from behind his lips, “Who do ya think yer talkin’ to?!”
“No fighting of any kind is permitted in the Monstro Lounge,” Azul kept his arms crossed over his chest, his focus reshifting to address the situation at hand, “This is a place for gentlemen.”
“What was that? Are you interfering?” one of the students asked, “Fine, we’ll just do this the hard way.”
“Hmph, I think it’s time we asked these ill-mannered patrons to leave,” Azul growled, clicking his tongue in annoyance, “Jade. Floyd. Show them the door.”
The eel twins grinned as they moved quickly, going after the Scarabia students like the set of predators that they were. Azul was quick to move and cover (Y/N), his overcoat covering your form to protect you from the fighting, “Don’t look, my dear, I do not wish for you to see such behavior.”
“Azul - I’ve seen worse,” your voice rattled him to the core as he huffed.
“I... don’t need the reminder.”
It didn’t take long for the Scarabia students to fall back, Jade and Floyd repocketing their pens.
“Go on an’ scatter, ya bunch of minnows!” Floyd laughed eagerly.
“We’ll be eagerly awaiting your next visit to our lounge,” Jade smiled.
As the last of the students disappeared, Grim jumped for joy, “Mya-haha! We did it! You see that?! That’s what you get, you bunch of jerks!”
“We, Grim? I think you mean they - Floyd and Jade - did it,” you ask before shaking your head and turning toward the trio, “Thank you, all three of you - I don’t want to think what they would’ve done if you hadn’t stepped in.”
“Thanks are unneeded, my dear,” Azul answered, standing and offering his hand, “However, I’m afraid we’ll have to bill you for repair fees for the tables and chairs - not to mention the lamps and assorted dishwear that was damaged in that fight. Not to mention our own labor rates, since we were dragged into this affair.”
“WHAT?! You’re charging us for that?!” Grim asked, throwing his paws up in the air.
“Surely it’s a small price to pay for us rescuing the both of you from the inky depths of peril? After all, (Y/N) did ask for my spirit of benevolence.”
“Azul, please,” you asked quietly, “There’s a reason that the Scarabia students were after us.”
“I’m assuming it has something to do with Kalim’s magic carpet.”
“... Not really,” you answer, “We were being held hostage.”
Azul frowned, not liking the word one bit, “Explain, (Y/N).”
***
Azul muddled over what you had just told him, Grim piping up every so often to include details about the Scarabia situation to add more information as the cunning octopus thought deeply. As Azul thought, his eyes kept shifting to you, his thoughts going deeper into self-loathing; if you had remained in Octavinelle, none of this would have happened - you would’ve been safe, not having to walk to an oasis down and back again every morning before even eating, or sleeping in a closet under lock and key, or even doing battles with other students of magic when you couldn’t even cast a spell yourself.
His poor little angelfish…
Azul’s eyes widened, an idea appearing in his mind… a chance of a lifetime had just been given to him and he would be damned to let it go to waste.
A knowning smile spread across his features, “...It sounds like we should go to their aid.”
“Myra?! Did you hit your head or something when I wasn’t looking?!” Grim asked.
“Of course not!” Azul feigned harm, lifting his gloved hand to his chest, “I’ll have you know, my dear Grimmy, that the last incident forced me to reflect on my greed. I came out a changed man!”
“Oh, really?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest, “Care to explain?”
“I decided to contribute to the school as a whole, in honor of the Sea Witch’s spirit of benevolence,” Azul explained, his features turning coy, “It’s common knowledge that the housewardens are typically the ones their students go to in times of need or struggle - even the vice wardens are responsible for that as well. However, the power has to be shared equally between both the house and vice wardens - and Scarabia’s all over the place. It’s faced with a crisis now and my own classmate is in need of help - I can hardly ignore them in their time of need.”
You watched Jade and Floyd give each other knowing smiles before the twins looked at Azul, Jade asking, “What is the plan?”
“Here’s my idea,” Azul proposed, “The five of us head to Scarabia tomorrow - we’ll go under the guise that we are returning Kalim’s carpet as well as offering assistance with the dorm’s studies, this will ensure our stay especially since Octavinelle did overwhelmingly well on their finals before break…”
“No thanks to your study guides,” Grim huffed.
“Grim,” You warned.
Azul coughed and continued, “Once we’ve secured our spot within Scarabia, we’ll be able to do a bit of sneaking around to figure out what’s really going on.”
“And I’m assuming you have an idea on how to do so?” Jade asked.
“Let’s get to that point before we make any rash decisions,” Azul answered.
“I think that is a wonderful idea,” you agreed.
“(Y/N)?! Are you crazy?!” Grim asked, “We can’t go back there!”
“Grim, we really have no other options,” you turned to the feline demon, “We’ve tried contacting the Headmage, the other students can’t get into the school because the dark mirror is closed off, we have no way of contacting Riddle or Leona either… Azul’s plan is the best we have right now. Personally, I’d rather not go back, but with the way things are looking for Kalim…”
“You’re afraid there’s going to be another overblot, aren’t you, pearl?” Jade asked.
Azul blinked, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Yes, Kalim’s behavior was erratic, but it couldn’t be enough for the headwarden to go into an overblot… would it?
“I’m afraid so,” you admit, looking over at Azul, “I noticed that… when things got a little out of control, someone overblotted. I can’t bare to see another student go through that, much less a housewarden again. I’d like to try and prevent it from happening again, if possible.”
Azul nodded, “No worries, angelfish - I’ll make sure mine was the last one you saw.”
You give the housewarden a small smile of relief - thankful that he seemed to understand.
Azul remembered during his blot how the memories of his childhood came forward; the root cause of his pain and suffering that eventually became his thirst for power that festered and grew until it snapped - and you had seen it all. Whatever this strange magical gift was and how you received it, Azul was certain that it was your own form of unique magic - one that was so powerful that it may even make Malleus Draconia afraid if he knew about it; the power to look into one’s past and see everything that shaped them into who they eventually became was strong powerful magic indeed - but, of course, Azul didn’t want anyone else to know about it, considering he was victim number three to the overblot crisis that appeared to be happening this year.
Azul reaches out, offering his hand to you, “(Y/N), as headwarden of Octavinelle - allow myself and Jade and Floyd to help you and Grim solve the mystery of Kalim’s strange behavior. I’m certain the five of us plus Jamil will be able to ease Kalim’s troubles and bring back the peace Scarabia so desperately needs. Do we have a deal?”
You look at his hand, the memory of the first day you met him and the day you lost your legs both playing in your mind - but what choice did you have? You look at him and take his hand, squeezing it.
“Promise - this will make us even?”
“Indeed. I promise.”
133 notes · View notes
Text
Welcome + Rules
Welcome to the Tumblr Found Family Adoption Agency! Here, we present your blorbos to the masses to have them vote upon whether they should be added to the collective tumblr found family or ditched on the roadside. Submit your blorbos here:
See which blorbos have already joined the found family HERE! To avoid seeing the results posts, mute "ffaa results" The rules are: 1. Play nice; be respectful to others 2. Blorbos can be of any age, since a found family can be just that. So feel free to submit a one-day old infant or a ten thousand year old tree, if those are your blorbos 3. No Harry Potter 4. No real people (might make an exception if it's funny) 5. "No real people" includes no individual tumblr users, youtubers or streamers (this might seem obvious, but there were still a lot of them submitted) 6. No OCs. All your OCs are great and I'd feel sad if they got rejected from the found family F.A.Q. under readmore:
(No one has actually asked any questions, but these are the ones I'm anticipating) Some of these questions have been asked now lol Q. How does this work? A. A post featuring a blorbo shall be made, stating who they are and their source material. A poll will be attached set to one week, asking if we should "adopt" or "ditch" the blorbo. At the end of the week, based on the result, I will announce if they blorbo has been adopted into the tumblr found family or ditched on the roadside Q. What is a found family? A. A found family is a family you find for yourself. It is a term often used in fandom to describe a group of characters who aren't related by blood (although a few members might be) but have come to think of each other as a family through circumstance. Alternatively, they might not be officially recognised as a found family in canon, but wider fanon regards them as such Q. Is this a tournament bracket? A. Nope, blorbos aren't competing against each other, they're only here to be judged by you. We are here enternally submitting blorbos (at least until I run out of steam or pass away lol) Q. I'm not sure if my blorbo counts because of ___ reason? A. If it's not any of the reasons mentioned in the rules, then feel free to send an ask. Or just submit them anyway and I'll decide Q. I submitted a blorbo and they haven't been posted. Did you get them? A. Again, feel free to send an ask. I don't have a regular schedule for posting these. Somedays there'll be batches of polls, others there'll be one or none Q. My blorbos are a duo/trio/etc., who cannot be separated. Can I submit them as a group? A. While I would prefer to stick to individual characters, if you have some who absolutely cannot be separated, I might make exceptions. Most likely, I'll make a poll asking if they should be judged as a group or individually, since there's a lot of media I won't be familiar with Q. My blorbo got ditched on the roadside! Fuck you! A. Friend, as a fan of Theseus from Hades Game, I understand what it's like to have your fave hated by fandom. Anything decided on this blog can never affect your personal headcanons, so go in peace with your middle finger held high Q. What are your icon and header? A. The icon is of the Pokemon Bouffalant and Natu, based on a series of trading card art where Bouffalant finds two Natu and rescues them - the true spirit of found family. The header is a group of characters called the Black Ravens from the Professor Layton series - a group of ragtag working-class kids who make a black market together Q. I wrote some propaganda on the submission form, can you post it or send it back to me? A. Submissions are deleted as the polls are posted, so I can keep track of how many I have left to post, which means I can't do this. Please save your propaganda for the post and not the submissions form Q. Did you know you used fan art on ___ poll? A. Unless I'd mentioned getting permission from the artist, then please assume that I did not know and let me know. I hate art theft and wouldn't want to partake in that, but I'm just not familiar with a good 80% of the series submitted, so sometimes it might slip through the cracks Q. Can I submit a character who isn't my blorbo? A. Also fine! I enjoy it when people submit controversial characters to see how they'll do Q. What happens if there's a tie? A. The blorbo in question becomes an occassional family member who appears with our found family for some important cutscenes, but isn't officially considered part of the found family
Q. No, but seriously, my blorbo got ditched. Do they get another chance? A. At the beginning of each year we host a Redemption Event, when any past blorbos who were submitted get another character. Because of the high volume of ditched characters, to be included in the event your character will need to be submitted with propaganda via a form that will be released a month before the event Q. I think the image used is a big reason why my blorbo got ditched. Why did you use that image? A. If an image hasn't been submitted, I will just grab one from an image search result in most cases. You know your blorbos best, so if you have a specific (non-fan art) image that you think shows them in their best light, please do submit it when you submit them Q. Did you mean the book version or movie version of that character? A. Whichever version of the blorbo that gets submitted, that'll be the one I use. If no specific version is mentioned, I'll just post that blorbo in general and use whatever image is most common when I look them up Q. My blorbo is a character played by a youtuber and/or streamer, not the youtuber or streamer themselves, is that okay? A. If it's a character, then it's fine. But please mention this on the submission. Because if I look them up and the result looks to be just some real person, that won't be included Q. What counts as a "sweep"? A. Any character who gets 90% or higher in either adopt or ditch is counted as a sweep. This doesn't give them anything extra, it's just for bragging rights Q. What counts as a "close call"? A. Any character who's poll results are within the 49%-51% range for adopt/ditch count as a close call Q. How many characters can I submit at a time? A. There's no hard rule, since the form doesn't track emails, but please be considerate to others and try not to submit more than 10 characters per submission period Q. How many characters from the same series can I submit at a time? A. Five (5) characters per series per submission period. I'll be lenient for if they've been submitted by multiple people, but from my experience running this blog, it's only the current Hot New Thing that'll be submitted by multiple people and anything else is usually one person submitting one character after another. I used to allow more, but people took this for granted and submitted 50+ from the same series, so now 5 is the cap Q. You missed a tag from that poll! Can it be added? A. Sure! Tags are either provided by the submitter or where left blank, I'll use my best guess. At minimum, you'll get the name of the character and series as they've been submitted. If you know more, let me know and I'll add them to the post during the voting period. Please note: The polls themselves cannot be edited after being posted, only the tags Q. I don't understand what this blog is A. Don't worry about it, friend. Just keep driving and whatever you do, don't wind down the window. We'll be safe soon :)
320 notes · View notes
hakuwaii · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Spirited Away lockscreens
• please don't repost
• like or reblog if you save
333 notes · View notes
hookhausenschips · 4 days
Text
Pixelated Chaos
Masterlist
Summary: Y/N, an avid gamer and popular streamer, prepares for her usual gaming session but with a twist – her boyfriend Lando joins her while he’s away on a triple header. They embark on an immersive adventure together, navigating through the eerie corridors, engaging her chat with banter and laughter as they face challenges and jump scares. Despite moments of fright, they enjoy the experience, ultimately triumphing together. Their bond strengthens as they conquer virtual obstacles, affirming that they can face any challenge as long as they're together.
Word Count: 845 (very short)
A/N: this is loosely based on this video that I died while watching rn
Requested? No
Join my taglist here!
Lando taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane
Reblog and like if you enjoyed
Tumblr media
(Gif belongs to it’s original owner, found on Pinterest)
—————————————————————
Y/N finds herself seated before her glowing monitor, poised to embark on another virtual adventure. Today, however, there's a twist in the tale of her online escapades. As she navigates through the intricacies of her chosen game, she's joined not by the avatars of strangers or fellow gamers, but by the digital echo of her absent boyfriend, Lando.
“Hello Chat! How are we feeling tonight?” Y/N asked as her face appeared on the screen. Various replies rolled through the chat, welcoming back their favorite streamer. Y/N smiled as she received a notification from Discord notifying her that Lando was ready to call. “Okay chat, can you guess what we’re playing tonight?”
Many people's guesses were from Minecraft to Warzone, and almost everything in between. She grinned at her viewers as they waited in anticipation. “Tonight!” She said dramatically waving her fingers at the screen before continuing, “I am Escaping the Backrooms but not without a little help of course.” Her chat then erupted hearing Lando’s voice greet his girlfriend.
Lando and his girlfriend, Y/N, had been looking forward to their weekend gaming session for weeks. They were both avid gamers and loved trying out new and immersive experiences together.
As they entered the virtual world, they found themselves standing in a dimly lit corridor, the sound of distant footsteps echoing around them. Lando chuckled nervously, adjusting his headset as Y/N squeezed his hand for reassurance.
"Ready to face the unknown, babe?" Y/N said with a grin, her voice slightly muffled by the as she adjusted her headset.
Lando nodded, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. "Let's do this."
Together, they began to navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the backrooms, their footsteps echoing eerily against the concrete walls. The atmosphere was tense, with every creak and groan of the virtual environment sending shivers down their spines.
Y/N's Twitch chat was buzzing with excitement as she and Lando delved deeper into the eerie world of the game. The dimly lit corridors and distant echoes set the perfect ambiance for the stream. As they cautiously navigated through the labyrinthine passages, Y/N couldn't help but crack a joke about Lando's jumpiness.
"Hey, Lando, you sound more scared than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs!" Y/N teased, earning a chorus of laughter from her viewers.
Lando chuckled nervously, his character's flashlight trembling in-game. "Hey, I'm just being cautious, okay? You never know what's lurking around the corner in this place."
As they ventured into the depths of the backrooms, eerie sounds filled the air, causing both Y/N and Lando to tense up. Y/N couldn't resist poking fun at the situation. "Come on, Lando, don't tell me you're scared of a few pixelated monsters. Where's that brave adventurer spirit of yours?"
Lando rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, it's here, alright. Just taking a coffee break while my heart tries to escape through my chest."
As they progressed even deeper into the game, they encountered a series of increasingly difficult puzzles and obstacles. Y/N took the lead, her quick thinking and sharp wit guiding them through each challenge with ease, while Lando provided backup, occasionally letting out a scream or a nervous laugh whenever a particularly terrifying jump scare caught him off guard.
At one point, they stumbled upon a dark room filled with flickering fluorescent lights and strange, otherworldly noises. Y/N bravely stepped forward, her flashlight cutting through the darkness as they searched for clues to unlock the next area.
After their characters respawned once again after one of the monsters found them Y/N asked, “Hey did you put this on Easy mode or Nightmare?” Lando’s character turned towards Y/N’s before replying “Nightmare.”
Suddenly, several shadowy figures with creepy smiles leaped out from the darkness, sending Y/N and Lando screaming in terror. Lando doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach as Y/N playfully scolded him. "You fucking scaredy-cat!" she teased, unable to hide her own laughter.
Brushing off their momentary fright, they continued on their quest, encountering more challenges and scares along the way. Each new room brought fresh surprises and unexpected twists, keeping them on their toes and fueling their excitement.
But despite the occasional frights and challenges, Lando and Y/N never lost sight of the most important thing: having fun together. As they finally reached the end of the game, their hearts pounding with adrenaline and their faces flushed with exhilaration, the chat erupted with their cheers.
"That was amazing," Y/N exclaimed, still buzzing with excitement.
Lando grinned, "Yeah, it was. But I think I need a break from virtual monsters for a while."
Y/N laughed, nodding along. "Agreed. But hey, at least we made it out of the backrooms in one piece."
As they both said goodbye to Y/N’s chat, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced in the virtual world or the real one, as long as they faced them together, they could conquer anything.
119 notes · View notes
angel-of-the-moons · 1 month
Text
Running With The Wolves
Wolfwalker!Moon Knight (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader
Summary:
You're on the verge of being labeled a witch, but can one handsome stranger (and his two "brothers") save you from the same cruel fate as your mother, who was labeled as one and burned at the stake?
Can you handle the truth about your heroes identities, despite it all? Would you find out who your masked savior truly was beneath his cloak?
Only you could answer that.
TW/CW: Witch hunts, violence, graphic violence, graphic death, blood, public execution, parental death, persecution, grief, depression, Wolfwalkers AU, Moon Knight AU, incorrect lore
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: I was watching Wolfwalkers and it gave me the idea for the boys. I did a little research into the lore, so some will be inaccurate (my pagan ancestors would frown upon me lmao) as well as historically inaccurate; so what is in this fic is largely based on the film. It will be especially inaccurate because y'know, Marc is American and Jake is Spanish and Steven is English etc, as well as Khonshu being around (but in the comics he's had a Viking Moon Knight so this isn't too far fetched he'd be in a place like Ireland) so please bear with me, my poor mind has been going through it lately and I wanted to write somethin' pointless, so enjoy this weird ass AU I came up with! (Header does not indicate the reader's race!)
Taglist: @enheduannasposts
Tumblr media
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
PT. 1
"I heard tha's the girl who lives on the outskirts." You heard a young woman whisper to her friend. Her accent was clearly not from Ireland. She sounded like one of the people from England. They'd been arriving slowly but surely, like a trickle from a leaky bucket, since you were a child.
Your skin prickled as you looked over the vegetables in the market stall, tended to by an old woman who was blind in one eye. Mary, her name was. Mary was probably one of the only around here who was kind to everyone, unless they gave her a reason not to. And those two English girls certainly gave her a reason...
"Aye, ye two hussies best be leav'n this girl be!" She spat, waving her old wooden stick around. "She 'ent done nothin' to ye!"
The two women jumped back with a yelp and scurried off, an armored guard eyeing you and Mary warily.
Your nose crinkled at him and you turned your nose up as you looked back at the crop Mary was selling.
"I'm sorry, lass. I don't like 'em either." Mary said, winking her blind eye at you.
You can't help but smile as you trade some herbs for the vegetables, placing the juicy morsels into your basket. "I just would like for things to go back to the way they were." You sighed.
"Like when I was a girl, before they came to our town. Things were fine, everything was in balance."
Mary leaned in, holding a finger to the sky as she spoke quietly to you.
"Aye, lass. But don't worry. The crimes these English folk are doin' to us? They'll be payin', mark my words! The land, the very sky itself is angry because we can't honor the promises we made so long ago." She grinned, half her teeth missing from old age. "Then, maybe we'll be forgiven."
"Aye, or maybe be consumed by the wolves and the forest while we're at it." You smile sadly. You remembered being safe in those woods as a girl, playing in the creeks, chasing birds and hares, the wolves singing on the breeze...
But the wolf attacks have become ever so common, now. None had been bitten, but their homes had been trashed, their livestock spirited away into the cover of night, wolf tracks everywhere. You were the only one whose homestead was spared. You often wondered why. The only thing different between your little plot and the rest of the homes that were driven empty was... wait.
They were all English.
You weren't. That house you lived in had belonged to your family for nearly half a century. The English farmsteads were placed on the grounds that were cleared by the King's woodcutters and soldiers, they were the ones being attacked. Not you.
But lately, you've heard other tales as well. A "devil in white" the King's men would ramble, their voices shrill with fear. A man in white armor who moved like a ghost, and fought like hell itself. You paid no mind, figuring it may be some hermetic hunter who called the forest home, who simply didn't want to have them invade his solitude.
Maybe--
"Lass, you should get home." Mary said, looking at you with worry as a small gaggle of women whispered and pointed at you. You were used to the stares, you'd been getting them as a child. But since the English arrived, those whispers became accusations.
"Witch."
Your mother had faced a similar accusation, given her odd habits and ways of whispering to the wind.
Some considered her addled, even moreso when she began raving of spirits and the voices she said came from the ground.
You remembered the night that she died, the horrible, evil way that she left this world.
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
You were only twelve years old, gripped hard by the local men as the bishop to your village spoke from the Bible, quoting things about the crimes of witchcraft and how your mother could only be cleansed by fire.
You screamed, and kicked, and cried and cursed, but all that earned you was a punch to the gut as they lit the kindling beneath your mother's feet.
You'd heard tales of witch burnings, but you'd never ever thought such horrible deeds would come to your town; your safe, warm little home.
Your mother was strange, yes, but she taught you many things that had proven useful. The best herbs to cure the worst fever, the best tonics to drink to cure an ailing cough, how to track in the woods, how to trust the forest to show you the way home; but only if you respected it as a living being, and respected the souls who lived within.
She wasn't a "witch" to you.
She was your mother.
And she was right in front of you, burning.
"Mummy!" You screamed, your voice sounding as though you swallowed shards of pottery.
She looked at you, and smiled, crying and struggling against the ropes that bound her to the stake.
The fire crept up, up, until it reached her feet.
You could smell it--the acrid, disgusting stench of oil and burning flesh. You could see her skin blister, peel, and burn away as she screamed, begged for mercy. Mercy that the church was not willing to grant her.
You screamed and cried until your throat was raw and bloody, struggling until you broke free of the men's arms.
You didn't think twice on it--you leapt towards the pyre.
Your mother was dead. You knew this. But all you wanted was to hold her one last time, even if all that was left now was blackened, charred flesh.
Your soft, delicate hands burned, your dress beginning to catch aflame as you desperately tried to reach for what little remained of the woman you loved most in the world.
The pain was so blinding, so debilitating that your vision went white around the edges, and you saw the world begin to go dark.
"Damn it--put the girl out!" Was the last thing that you heard before you lost consciousness.
When you'd awoke, it had been two whole days since your mother's trial and burning. Two days since she plead to the "court" about how they were treating the land; that if they didn't change their ways they would all suffer for it.
The first face you saw was the bishop looking down at you with a solemn and sad expression, completely different from the way his eyes had gleamed maniacally as he cheered the death of your mother.
"I'm sorry, dear girl." He said kindly, resting a hand on your shoulder.
Your arms and hands were wrapped in clean linen--or, well, as clean as they could get it, anyway--your burns itching and painful.
You gritted your teeth, feeling hot tears burn as you glared at him, your throat still raw and aching.
"You killed her!" You meant to yell, but it only came out a hoarse croak.
"Aye, girl, I did. But I took no pleasure in it."
Liar. Filthy, disgusting liar! You wanted to shout, You smiled when she screamed!
"Your mother was bewitched by the devil, don't you see? The only way to ensure she could make it to heaven was if she was cleansed by fire." He told you, his wrinkled eyes looking at you with such gentleness you could almost scarcely believe this was your beloved mother's executioner.
"At least now, you know your mother made it to the gates of heaven. And hopefully God finds it in Him to grant your mother eternal peace." He continued, "After all, she loved you greatly, and there is nothing more pure than a mother's love. Even if it was the love of a witch."
You bite back bile that wanted to rise--partly from the pain, partly from disgust--and turned your head away, your tears heavy like chains that hung from your lashes and held your eyes closed.
"So hopefully, we can pray she found salvation and forgiveness in the fact she loved you so."
His hand brushed a lock of burnt hair from your face.
"Don't worry, girl... You can go home. But I must implore you not to give in to the teachings your mother no doubt gave you. None of that talking trees or animals nonsense, you hear?"
You wanted to kick him, to bite his disgusting fingers off and pluck out his eyes. But... all you did was nod, and say:
"I understand."
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
Later that night, barring the English women's gossip, you'd had a fairly decent day. Your snare on the edge of the forest had gotten a nice hare; providing you with some nice soft fur and meat and bone.
You'd spent your days thereafter doing much of the same work you'd done since you returned to your empty home the week your mother died. You gardened, placed more snares, cleaned the house, worked the loom, began weaving a small tapestry.
One night, you were broken from your tedium by heavy hands on your door, making you yelp and prick yourself with a needle.
You stuck your bloody fingertip in your mouth and stuffed the tapestry into your heavy wooden chest, rushing to your front door to see what was the trouble.
When you opened it, there was the bishop, flanked by two men in heavy plate armor. You felt a shiver creep up your spine; the sight was eerily similar to the night your mother was taken away, only this time the bishop looked so ancient he looked like a piece of dried, brittle leather.
"Dear girl, thank God you're alright." The bishop breathed, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder.
Your brow creased, and you opened your mouth to speak, only for him to cut you off.
"That... That man, that devil whom the townsfolk here and elsewhere have been seeing--he was here. Tonight! He killed four of the King's finest men!" He said, panicked, his touch cold and clammy.
"And earlier in the day... wolves. A pack of white wolves! I feared for you, girl. I know that you're alone and so far from town." He shuddered a breath. His lungs sounded awful, even to your ears. Honestly... If the man had allowed it, you could have fixed his long coughing illness. He's been suffering for years with it, sometimes to the point where his surmons had to be delivered by proxy.
He was suffering... but so had your mother, whom he murdered in the name of his god.
Your jaw was tight, and you nodded. "I... I see. I haven't been attacked yet, sir. B-but I will keep an eye out and alert you if I see anything strange."
You wouldn't.
"I don't want that devil to hurt anyone else."
You hoped he chased them all away.
He mistook your shaky voice for one of mutual fear for the man that haunted the nights, like the dreaded vampires back in England and the smaller towns and villages.
"Yes, dear girl." He put his hand to your cheek and smiled, his aged features twisting in agony. "A good girl. May God protect you."
"And He, you." You replied, the words tasting like rotten meat on your tongue.
"Such a good girl." He turned, coughing into his hand. "May God help civilise this land..."
Thunder boomed in the distance, almost as if the very sky itself was urging the cruel men on their way, to leave you be.
As soon as your door was closed, you grabbed a nearby cauldron and heaved it over to your hearth, hanging it from the iron hook and dumping the pail of water into it to boil.
You hastily stripped your clothes free and dumped them into the cauldron, rushing to find your small bottles of tonics.
When you'd found the ones you needed, you dumped them, alongside fresh herbs, into the pot with your soaking clothes.
You knew, based on your own observations, that those who coughed often spread it through touch or spit. And he had coughed into his hands and touched you; you simply don't want to take the risk.
You had to start selling your healing tonics "under the table" as Mary said, as cleaning agents for clothes and blankets just so you could pass it to the townsfolk with sick family. You hated doing that, but seeing a sickly child able to run around with her siblings again without fear of that wretched cough was worth the pain of lying.
You watched as the water bubbled, standing naked as you poked at the fabric with your long wooden spoon, swirling it around and around.
Once you deemed it hot enough, you carefully picked up the cauldron and set it on your stone slab at the mouth of your hearth, you scooped some of the herbal water into your wash bucket and began scrubbing at your clothes mercilessly to rid it of any possible sickness.
Once they were clean enough, you hung them near the fire to dry (but not close enough to catch fire while you were asleep).
You felt goosebumps chill your skin as the wind rattled your shutters, so you grabbed a heavy woolen blanket to wrap yourself up in while you dug around for a new linen dress to put on.
It was a small comfort, given how early in the year it was, and these certain storms always brought unseasonably cold weather in their shadow, but you accepted it nonetheless.
You walked over to your wooden chest and pulled out your half-finished tapestry. It was one your mother started when you were barely hip-height; your father, strong and large, next to your mother, petite and soft. Interconnecting between them was you, holding their larger hands in your tiny ones.
Much of it was unfinished, and only within the last year did your grief finally allow you to finish what she started, as this was the only thing left that you had of her. When the church took her away, your mother knew they were coming, so she hid certain things out in the woods for safekeeping, only telling you their whereabouts. Once the church lifted it's eye from you one autumn day, you finally ran out into the clearing your mother hid her things in.
Being able to have something to visually remember your parents by wrenched your heart in a bittersweet way, but it was all you had of them, other than their rings you wore, hidden and slung low beneath your bodice so nobody would see.
You knew if the bishop found out... He would have them all destroyed, burned like your mother; and he would likely have you thrown into the stocks and publicly lashed as punishment.
In a twisted way, the bishop cared for you. He saw you as an innocent, God-fearing girl who had been brainwashed by your witch mother, whom only acknowledged the paganistic "Old Ways".
You hated having to keep up the act, but you didn't want to die. You owed it to your mother and father, wherever their souls were together, to live on.
You blinked, and a heavy teardrop splashed down onto the tapestry.
Your body jolted with the clap of thunder. How long had you been crying? Had you been crying this whole time, but didn't realize it? Oh, you hated how often these crying fits would strike you.
All you wanted to do was think of the happy times with your family, but it always came back to the fact that they were dead and you were alone.
You dropped back onto your bed, the old, dried wood creaking beneath your weight, the smell of the straw mattress stuffed with dried flowers and clovers soothing to your senses.
Your eyes felt heavy, weighted down from your painful thoughts, and you turned your head to look at the wreath above your bed, shamrocks with dried berries carefully strung together; it was something your mother taught you. You couldn't remember the significance of the thing, but making them when you were bored became a mundane comfort.
You closed your eyes and sighed heavily.
You would need to check your snares in the morning.
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
Your leather shoes squelched in the mud as you carefully made your way to the treeline early that next morning. You nervously chewed the inside of your cheek to check if the coast was clear before venturing into the bushes.
It was early enough none had arisen yet to start the day, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon as you set off into the forest.
Yes, setting your traps beyond the treeline was dangerous, as they would tell you, but you knew the game in the woods was fat and ripe, perfectly full of meat. If you could hunt at all, you would try your aim at shooting one of those slovenly bucks with a bow and arrow.
But a hunter you were not. Trap-maker, yes. But no hunter.
Your tiny iron dagger was slung low on your hip, your mostly-empty wooden sack carrying fresh bait for any snares that were sprung, or if the bait had been snatched.
The first two traps hadn't been sprung, but picked clean, most likely by birds and quick-witted squirrels. No luck in catching anything.
But as you neared your final trap, you heard an odd noise. A wheezing sound, almost, followed by heavy pants and a whimper.
Your footsteps stopped as you peered around the thick trunk of an ancient tree, your breath catching in your throat as you looked at the sight in front of you.
It was your last snare, set up with some bread and berries to lure in a rabbit or squirrel (as was your typical game) but it seems that this time, somehow... you snagged a wolf.
And this was not a normal wolf; it was one with fur as white as the coldest snow, now muddied and stained from the soggy ground it flailed around in; your snare secured firmly around its neck and front paw, cinching the two together in a painful manner.
Your heart broke as you saw the creature struggle and wheeze, choking out quiet howls that couldn't be heard through the underbrush.
With your jaw set tight, you stepped out of the clearing, and the wolf turned to you, trying to limp away.
"Shhh, hush, now." You soothe the animal, your hands out in front of you as you got lower, trying to seem less threatening.
Yes, the townsfolk feared wolves, but you wouldn't just leave this beautiful creature to slowly strangle to death on one of your own traps; your soul wouldn't be able to handle the weight of guilt.
"I won't hurt you, sweetie." You say, your voice calm and soft as you reached out.
The wolf snapped tentatively at you, whimpering as the pain of the cord dug further into its throat and paw, red stains now blotching the white fur.
"It's all right. I won't hurt you..." You urge the panicked animal. Your own eyes locked with its dark brown ones, and you could almost hear its thoughts plead:
Help me. Please. It hurts. Please!
You wait for the wolf to still, and sit its haunches on the ground, those big, pained eyes staring right through to your very soul.
Once the wolf is calm, you hook your fingers through the snare, reaching for the part of it that looped around, and try to loosen it enough for it to slip free.
But to no avail, the amount of flailing the wolf had done had twisted and cinched it to the point you couldn't. Your brow pinched and you nervously chewed the inside of your cheek before unsheathing your dagger.
Upon seeing the glint of the blade, the wolf whimpered and panicked again, beginning to flail once more as you reached for it.
"No!" You say, frantically trying to calm the beast. "Stop! You're making it worse! Please--I'm not going to hurt you."
You grunt as you leap forward, crushing the wolf against you in a bear hug, trying to calm its thrashing body as you swing your sharpened blade through the cord, severing it from the branch it was tethered to.
You sliced your thumb in an attempt to cut the cord around its throat, but you somehow managed it, your blood leaving fresh streaks of red and pink through the wolf's surprisingly soft fur.
You drop your dagger and release the animal, falling back on your bum as you carefully crawl away as the canine heaved for uninhibited air, its barreled chest shaking with effort.
Once it had collected itself, it limped up to you, it cut paw hanging an inch or two above the ground as its wet, charcoal black nose sniffed at your wounded thumb.
Its pink tongue laved out and lapped up your blood, as if to say "sorry" for causing you to injure yourself for trying to aid it.
Your eyes however, were drawn to the cuts into the wolf's throat and paw, oozing small rivulets of blood as it stared at you.
"Oh... You poor..." You breathed, rising to kneel on your knees, dirtying your skirt even more.
"I... Those can get infected. Please. I... I can help you..."
You don't know why you were trying to bargain with an animal, but somehow it paid off. The wolf nosed its way into your lap, ears flattened up and eyes pleading up at you.
"Okay..." You murmur, scratching behind one of its ears. "Let's get you home, boy. I have stuff there that can help ya."
The wolf whimpered.
"Er... Well, I assume you're male?" You chuckle awkwardly, trying to think of how to carry this large and hefty animal back home without being seen.
"I'm not gonna violate you by takin' a peek or anything." You clear your throat when one of the wolf's ears flop as "he" tilts his head at you.
"Er. Okay. Let's go..."
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
It was easier than you thought, getting him back home. As the sun crept higher, the fog and mist were your ally as you smuggled the "dangerous" animal back to the safety of your home.
You had to haul him over your shoulders and beat feet through the underbrush. Once you were safely inside, you had to (with great difficulty) maneuver the wolf down onto your bed.
You chuckled when he rolled over--and he was most definitely a "he"--and began rolling this way and that into your blankets, making small huffs and growls.
"Ah-ah..." You murmur, reaching out to brush your hand through his muddy fur. "You might make your injuries worse, 'kay, m'love?"
That seems to get the wolf's attention. You weren't sure if he could understand you, which honestly had you thinking you were crazy, but the way he sat up and stared at you, one ear flopping down as he looked up into your eyes sent a strange feeling through your body.
"Hmm..." You murmur, brushing your fingers tentatively around his wounded throat. From his muddy thrashing he'd accumulated a fair amount of dirt, and that would lead to infection.
You hike your skirts up and tie them around your waist, and you could almost swear you saw a look of modesty cross the wolf's eyes as his ears slicked back against his head and he buried his muzzle into your warm blankets.
You scratch the back of your head, a little confused at his reaction as you adjust your knickers and rush to gather your herbs you'd need, plucking dried leaves and roots that hung above your hearth.
You set the herbs down into your mortar and pestle and begin to grind them down, mixing them evenly into a dissolvable mass that would melt in the water once you'd boiled it.
You crack your knuckles and grab a pail, untying your skirts and smoothing them out, frowning at the mud stains as you reach for your door, making a "shush" gesture to the wolf.
"Stay quiet and don't go near the windows! It's dangerous if you're seen." You gently urge him before slipping outside into the morning light once again.
The trek to the well was always annoying, but your neighbors never minded you coming to fetch water, knowing how dangerous it could possibly be for you to hike to the creek at the edge of the forest just to get yourself some of the life-giving liquid.
You inwardly cringed when the Kenny's daughter, Aisling, was already at the well; her belly already round with her unborn child. Barely 19 years of age and she was already with a babe; she was often sickly as a child, this you remembered, so her family (namely her husband) was very concerned about her well-being and that of her impending birth.
Upon seeing you approach, Aisling smiled widely and waved at you, saying your name chipperly, almost like an excited morning bird.
You were really hoping not to have a conversation so early, afraid someone would know you were harboring a wolf inside your home...
"Hello, Aisling. Feeling well this morning?" You hum innocently at her as you tie your pail up, before cranking the wench and lowering it down to the water below.
"Yes, surprisingly!" She giggled, patting her belly with a soft smile. "M' little one decided it was a good day to let mummy keep food down."
"That's good! I still recommend broths if you feel nauseous, however..."
"I know, I know. My mum is constantly making sure of that." She sighed with a roll of her eyes, hooking her own two pails of water onto her yoke.
Your hairs raised and you reached out, the wench slipping from your hands and your bucket dropping all the way back down into the water below the earth.
"No! You mustn't lift something that heavy." You caution. "It's not good for your baby."
"Ohhh! You sound like my father." She sighs, frowning deeply, her hands on her hips. "I'm not helpless, y'know!"
"Yes, I'm aware, but--"
"Aisling!" Her husband panted, trotting up to the both of you. He was at least a decade or so older than she was, but nonetheless it was a good match; he seemed to love her greatly. He was English, and one of the few kind ones you've known, in fact. A gentle giant.
This fact was emphasized when his large bulky hand reached down to touch her belly, sighing with relief. "No, no, you know that you can't be out here alone! The wolves!"
"I 'ent seen no wolves!" Aisling pouted up at him.
"That doesn't mean no wolves see you, m'love." He sighed dejectedly at her. He gives you a kind smile and a nod, hoisting the yoke over his own shoulders, "Aye, lass. Glad to see someone else talking some sense into my pretty little wife, here..."
"Bah!" Aisling scoffed, throwing her arms in the air as she waddled back down to their house.
He shook his head with a chuckle, "I swear, if we have a girl and she turns out like her..."
"You'll have your hands full, alright." You sigh, cranking the wench again.
"Aye." He says, giving you a cautious look. "But, I must warn you, the same way I did Aisling... with these wolves about, it's dangerous..."
"I know." You smile. "I'll be fine."
"Alright..." He replies, giving you one last look before going back home to his wife and family.
You on the other hand, rushed back home with your water to your waiting furry companion...
You almost dropped the pail of water when you saw what he was doing. Somehow he managed to nose open up the chest containing your mother's things, and was insistently sniffing the tapestry.
"Ah! No, no, no!" You frantically say, setting the water down to rush over, gently shoving his snout to the side to close the chest.
"Gah..." You sigh in relief, and smile softly at the wolf, reaching out to pinch and squish his cheek. And surprisingly, he took it well, making a little "whurf!" as you do.
"Don't go through my stuff, it's not very polite after I risked my arse you take care of you." You chuckle, setting yourself to task of boiling the water with the ground herbs. You kneel next to the remaining bit of water on the floor, dipping a rag into the pail and making a clicking noise with your teeth.
The wolf tipped his head to the side, ears pricking up at the noise as he slowly moseyed over to you shyly.
"Oh relax, I won't poison ya." You chuckle, dabbing the soaked cloth onto his fur, cleaning him of the muck.
He of course, did not like this. He whimpered and tucked his tail between his legs, his gorgeous brown eyes pleading with you.
"Ah! That won't work on me, Mister... You need to be clean before I can clean your wounds!" You cluck at him, not falling for his cute little attempt.
Thankfully, he sits there and lets you gently massage the mud away, carefully cleaning around his wound sites before hastily grabbing the pot of boiling water and pouring some into a wooden bowl.
You scratch behind one of his ears and say softly, "Now... I'm going to take care of you, okay? Now... just let me..."
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
"No! Down! Bad wolf!" You groan, watching as his tail wagged happily, one of your kirdles firmly in his jaws, daring you to come get it.
"Ooooh! I should have left you in the woods!"
His ears flatten back and his eyes get big, giving you the sweetest, saddest look you've ever seen...
And it definitely broke you.
"Ah... You little... mouth off my clothes!" You grunt, tugging the garment from between his teeth, groaning at the sight of tears from his fangs.
He dropped down onto his front paws, wagging his tail happily as he makes a playful whine and yip.
"Oi! Ya seem just fine now!" You scold the animal, shaking the torn kirdle in front of him.
It was true. In just one day, your furry companion seemed to have healed miraculously faster than what was natural. It concerned you... but you didn't feel threatened by the creature's playful antics.
If anything, having him around made you feel less... lonely.
Dinner was almost ready, a simple stew with vegetables and salted meats tossed in. You weren't sure if wolves could eat such a meal, but you would feel awful if you were eating and your new friend merely had to sit and watch.
You sigh and toss your clothes aside, watching with a snort as the wolf playfully dove for it, rolling around and kicking it with his feet as you used your ladle to scoop two bowls.
You curled your feet beneath you as you plopped a spoon into your bowl before placing the spare on the floor. Your wolf's ears perked up and he sniffed the air, licking his chops as he abandoned your torn-up kirdle in favor of investigating the food you placed for him.
You smiled around your mouthful as he accidentally dipped his nose too deep into the broth, whipping his head around with a heavy snort.
"Ah, that's not how you eat, by the way..." You hum innocently, and again, your wolf gives you an almost human reaction, flattening his ears back as he seems to glare at you for a moment, before lapping at the food, curling his tongue around to eat the bits of veggies and meat.
"Oh, I'd love to keep you, but you don't belong here, fella." You say, scratching his ear softly in an affectionate way. Your skin crawls when you hear a mournful howl travel from the forest, across the fields, and into your house.
Your wolf whimpers and looks at you.
"As soon as you're ready, I'll sneak you back out to the woods." You promise him.
"I won't let anyone hurt you."
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
He looked out from the treeline, his glowing white eyes staring out from the darkness.
A large, fluffy animal--a gorgeous white wolf, fur stained with mud--sidled up next to him, ears flattened back.
"Still no sign of him?" He sighed, frustrated.
The wolf whimpered, his tail tucking and nose dipping towards the ground in a response that seemed to say "no".
"Damn it!" The man roared, his fists balling tight as he began to pace angrily.
"Still no sign of your third?" A deep voice rumbled from the trees.
He lifted his gaze to spot him in all his imposing glory--Khonshu; god of the night sky, the moon, justice and many things in-between. His lithe frame ominously perched on the limb of an ancient, thick tree. One of his legs dangled down while the other supported his arm, his dominant hand clutching his staff in a tight-fisted grip as he stared down at him.
But mostly, he was his fist of vengeance. He was dispensing justice against those who imposed their will on the weak; like the other Englishmen who oppressed the local populace with their threats of jail, execution...
He also had to deal with bandits. Bandits, constantly seemed to prey upon travelers trying to find better places to live, to eke out a livelihood to support their families.
But right now, he was on edge.
He was incomplete. He was missing a vital part of himself. Someone he would not be able to fully function without.
Finally, his tongue unglued itself from the roof of his mouth and allowed him to speak.
"No."
"He is alive. I can feel it." Khonshu sighed, almost sounding bored. "You and your wolves... Sometimes they are a gift... other times it is a curse."
It was true... there weren't many of his kind left, and they were useful as a commodity, but also a vast hindrance if they were separated. Very few were born after being hunted to near extinction, and even fewer still were bitten and turned.
He tipped his head to the side, "He will come back. But until then, we have work to do. There is a group of soldiers that have taken women and children from their homes. I'm sure you can deduce what it is that they intend to do to them. I want you to stop them and set their captives free." Khonshu tapped his staff against the thick bark of the tree, and in a sharp breeze, he vanished.
"Right..." He said, his throat tight; his body thrumming with anxiety, his hand shaking immensely at the strain of lacking such a vital part of himself. He wondered still, if he would be able to control himself, to hold himself back without him.
His wolf companion moved forward, nudging his snout into the palm of his hand, whimpering softly.
Sparing one last glance over the countryside, he made a hefty sigh.
"Where the hell are you?"
🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺
Pt. 2: I will get to it eventually, I swear you guys
Extra super late author's note:
Yeah it's gonna be at least one or two more parts. I am gonna split it up to ease on the scrolling time for you guys! That and it feels neater than cramming so many lazy time skips into one post. I am going to get the rest of my drafts cleared (hopefully) and begin eating away some of those asks I have piled up in my inbox (that Tumblr didn't manage to delete by some miracle...)
My trip might be postponed, dealing with a lot at home, like me almost burning the house down today and almost passing out from the damn smoke because wooooo fire is bad
If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have none whatsoever!
96 notes · View notes