#as long as i know the shape of my soul i’ll be alright

[landofmydreams]

if i was a man i would wear low waisted jeans and dirty tops and leather jackets and cowboy hats and smoke cigarettes and spit on the ground and i would worship the ground he walks on and i would draw his face in a sketchbook and annotate his favourite novel and i would drive a truck with the windows down and blow smoke out of them and i my underpants would poke out above my jeans and i would surf everyday and make music and lay in the grass and read

[forbidden-interlude]

Potential Tattoo ideas

[healsypally]

"You chose your life before you were born"

I chose to have a self-sabotaging compulsive special interest that is not only incessantly dysphoric and incredibly invalidating, but also re-surfaces deep-seated trauma every second of every day that it mulls around in my brain??

ok

[supernatural-bias]

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: hells greatest dad—various artists

↳ notes: this turned out way longer than expected. reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• What you did with your spare time outside the hotel had never been a problem

• Everyone blew off steam in different ways. Husk gambled is days away at dinghy bars, Vaggie practiced sparing, and Sir Pentious dreamed up designs for his retired war machines. The important thing was that everyone knew better than to ask the other about it

• So your friendship with Lucifer never come up. At least, not until Charlie decided to invite her dad over one day

• You were well aware of the strange relationship you had with the king of hell. He was all powerful ,and technically your ruler, sure, but it was hard to view him that way after you caught him babying a small army of rubber ducks

• It had been such a long time since you’d first met him, honestly you were still surprised you’d remembered it

• Back when you still worked as a part time package deliverer for the UPS equivalent of hell, you’d been tasked with handing off a rather heavy, and rather odd shaped box. The label didn’t give an address, rather a small drawing of an apple with a snake curled around it

• It took you a while, and way too many u-turns, to arrive at a pair of tall metal gates

• An uncertain push of a button had been delivered to a nearby buzzer, and you briefly wondered if you had been sent on a dead end errand. Your boss liked to do that; said it kept his employees on their toes. You just thought that he enjoyed seeing the pissed off looks of returnees

• Nothing longer than a minute passed before you were answered with an overjoyed voice, sounding rushed and getting father away from the mic as he proclaimed ‘I’ll be right down Terrance!!’

• It was only when Lucifer himself had opened the gates to allow you in, that his face fell from an excited grin into one of confusion

• “Oh. You’re not my normal guy.” He frowned, looking up at you slightly. “Are you sure you have my package.”

• You simply showed him the address label’s drawing, and he nodded

• “Yeah that’s it alright.” A little bit of the enthusiasm he had shown at the sight of his delivery reappeared before you. It didn’t take long after that before he remembered that you were both still standing outside the towering stature of his house, and quickly invited you inside so you could help him move the package where he wanted it

• “So! Is Terrance sick or something? I could have sworn it was just yesterday that he was where you are now.  Or a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Alright it’s been a while, but can you blame me. Do you know who I’m talking about? Long horns, red splotches, and a weird amount of hands. He always had the funniest jokes to tell though— “

• The first impression of him you got was weird. For the ruler of hell at least. But as time went on, and you kept delivering packages to his house with each passing month, he just struck you as lonely. His house, while big, was always empty. You would go as far as to say that you were the only steady interaction he had. Even if you were technically required to visit him

• Eventually, you quit your job. It had been a long time coming, and you were looking forward to a different take on life away from packing peanuts and scotch tape. Yet, for some reason, you didn’t stop showing up at Lucifers place. And he didn’t stop letting you in

• “You know—“ The devil approached you one hot afternoon in his work room. It was actually quite cold outside, but the fire breathing duck in his hands had heated up the room something fierce upon demonstration. “If you ever need someplace to stay, my daughter has a passion project that she wont stop talking about. It’s pretty sparse in souls, and I’m sure she’d let you stay there as long as you went along with her plan that she has!”

• You tilted your head with a small hum that day, choosing not to mention the far away look in Lucifers eyes as he talked about his daughter

• “Sounds better than where I’m currently living.” You shrugged, handing him a spare bolt off of the floor when it rolled off his work desk. “Where is the place?”

• So you’d shown up on the Hazbin Hotel’s doorstep, then still known as the Happy Hotel, with a bag or two in had and asking for a room

• You hadn’t told Charlie that Lucifer had mentioned it to you. You didn’t want her to feel like you were only there because he dad had named dropped it, but you guessed that she had her suspicions. You didn’t seem very taken with her title as princess of hell after all

• You were there nearly as long as Angel Dust; the likes of which showed up in the room next to yours a week after the move

• That means you were present for the embarrassing news interview, and in turn, the introduction of Alastor as a new patron

• He had been annoyed by you at first. Unlike Charlie’s slight nervousness at his appearance, or Vaggie’s outright aggression, you practically ignored his spectacular entrance, save for a few quick comments

• That had bugged Alastor. You’d hardly reacted when he’d shown just a sliver of his powers. Your lackluster once over as he pulled the darling Nifty from a fireplace had given him nothing to go on. Nothing!

• “Now what’s your role here, my friend!” The Radio Demon practically sang to you on that same afternoon. He waltzed over to your position in a corner, and his smile thinned slightly as you barely spared a glance at him. You found yourself much more enthralled with the sight of Husk fending off Angel’s advances over at the bar

• “I’m a tenant.” You mumbled, looking right through him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed down at you in an unreadable emotion that day

• He took to annoying you for the remainder of his stay following his debut. With every day, he increased his pestering, and you continued to remain the same

• Neither of you made a breakthrough with the other for quite a while. Months passed, and he found you looking as disinterested as ever with his display of powers. At this point he was sure you were purposely giving him nothing just to see his smile crack at the edges. And he was getting frustrated, for a lack of better words

• It wasn’t until you’d wandered into his recording studio by mistake that something changed

• Alastor felt a disturbance in the air the moment you stepped foot in his little alcove. Territorial demons such as himself could always tell when somebody was trespassing on their land, especially when having as much power as he did, and you were no exception to this rule

• He materialized behind you almost instantly. His limbs were already beginning to crack and stretch in size, a glowing smile casting wild shadows all throughout the room as he searched for what was sure to be your cowering form as you dropped whatever item you were attempting to steal

• Instead, he found you kneeling to the side of his polished desk, blinking up at him as your hands sat frozen in the motion of flipping through a record basket. His record basket

• “And what, pray tell—” Alastor’s distorted voice sounded like an screeching echo. He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the hotel could hear it from downstairs “—are you doing here my dear?”

• You didn’t say anything for a moment. He watched as your eyes flickered to this symbols floating around him, then back down to his face

• “I was looking for some good music. Sorry to intrude” You eventually pull out of your weird staring match with him. Dusting the seat of your pants off, you rise to walk past him and towards the door

• Alastor’s mouth opens to say something, but stops when you pause in the doorframe

• “Nice antlers by the way.” You shrug. He doesn’t have to look up to know your talking about the honey structures protruding from his forehead. They really only come out when he starts to take on his true demonic form, and never before has he had someone compliment them

• Before he can get a better read on you, you’re gone

• Turns out, you weren’t exactly unimpressed with him. Just wary in your own way. It was a slight hit to the overlords ego that he hadn’t been able to pick up on that so quick, but he’d never admit it. Instead he took to your new attitude with rigorous mischief 

• Music and murder had been the thing to bridge the gap between the two of you. When Alastor discovered you were particularly fascinated by his time period, he laughed heartily

• “Why my dear, you should have told me you had such good taste!” He wrapped a tight arm around your shoulders. “What is it you wish to know about the darling 1920’s?”

• “Did you really feed your victims to alligators?”

• “Hah! That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” He said while flicking your nose. You just hummed with a scrunch of your eyebrows and wriggled out of his grip. Alastor laughed at that

• You wouldn’t classify the two of you as friends necessarily, but Husk did mention one day that the fact he didn’t kill you that day in his recording studio stood for something

• “He’s murdered demons for less.” The grumpy cat told you. You chose not to respond

• Everything came to a head the day Lucifer showed up at the request of his daughter

• He didn’t notice you right away, instead doing a little dance with Razzle and Dazzle as the rest of the hotel watched on confused. Angel tossed you a look and you just shrugged

• Lucifer eventually spotted you standing by the scrappy welcome table. With the same exuberance that you'd seen time and time again before, he hugged you almost immediately

• “Good to see you again too, Luce. Heard you were coming over.” You exhaled after he set you down. You chose to ignore Alastor as he stepped out of his shadows and stood behind you ominously. You could almost feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of your head

• “Ah so this is his majesty! You’re a bit shorter than I expected.” Alastor’s voice was a bit more grating than you recalled. His grip on his cane tightened as you raised your eyebrow at him

• “Uh, excuse me. Exactly who are you? Lucifer gave the overlord a once over, looking very bored as he did so

• An eye twitch

• “Why the Radio Demon of course! Manager to this very fine establishment, and a—!” 

• “Nope. Never heard of you. Sorry.” Lucifer cut Alastor off and smiled tensely from next to you, not sounding sorry at all

• It became apparent very quickly that the two of them didn’t mix. If a competitive musical number didn’t convince you of that, the way the both of them wouldn’t let go of your arms sure did. By the end point of Lucifer’s visit, you were sure a bruise or two had formed on your forearms

• “You know you should really come visit me more!” Lucifer adjusted his hat as he spoke, sending you a sharp toothed smile as he prepared to step out the door. “I’m sure you get tired of this hotel sometimes. Or at least the people—“

• “I’m sure you’ll find they are perfectly happy with their arrangement!” Alastor didn’t let Lucifer finish his thought. His shadows were getting restless at this point, stretching in the three of yours direction as if attempting to push Lucifer out. At this point Charlie and Vaggie had stopped paying attention to the weird power play between the two of them, instead talking about their upcoming trip to heaven together, so you were all alone. Save for two of your friends that were acting really weird

• "You know maybe the two of you shouldn't hang out."

• "Agreed."

[gigabyte-flare]

Denim

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: Your boyfriend comes home from an assignment still wearing his gear coupled with a pair of jeans you had gotten him, the sight of him driving you wild.

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: RE4R!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Kissing, unprotected p in v, creampie, mention of firearms

A/N: This is 5000% self indulgent. I've been playing through Resident Evil 4 Remake yet again with this Special Rescue Agent mod and oh my god those jeans are so fucking sexy on him. I needed to write this to get it out of my system. You're welcome 🤣

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

The door to your apartment bursts open, your boyfriend walking through briskly before closing the door behind him. You could tell from the corner of your eye he was still wearing his tactical gear and gun holster around his waist, having just come back from another grueling mission for the U.S. government to god knows where. A hint of blue draws your attention even further, your eyes now locked on the denim that perfectly accentuates his waist and backside.

“Hey, sorry I’m late babe. I had to fill out paperwork before they could let me come home. They didn’t even give me a chance to change my gear--”

Standing over the kitchen sink, you’re not even listening to your boyfriend at this point because you are way too focused on how absolutely fine he looks in the jeans you had bought him some time ago. Your mouth is hanging open and you drop the sponge you were holding into the dish water, making a subtle splash sound as your heart starts pounding in your chest. You didn’t think he even liked the jeans you got him because he had never worn them.

Until now, that is.

“Babe? Are you alright?” Leon asks, tilting his head at you and raising an eyebrow as he turns to face you.

You blink a few times, shaking your head to snap you out of your lust filled daze, returning your focus back to the dirty dishes as you fish through the water to grab the sponge, “yeah sorry! Long day…” you haphazardly reply.

“Right…” Leon says, nodding slightly before clearing his throat to continue, “let me get this gear off and I’ll come help you.”

Leon turns to walk into the bedroom, his heavy boots echoing through the apartment. You allow yourself another look as he walks off, your breath catching in your throat. It’s not just the jeans that made him look so… attractive. It’s the way the straps of his gun holster and various pouches attached to his belt hugged his thighs and how they perfectly shaped Leon’s toned backside. You unknowingly have a death grip on the sponge as hordes of less than appropriate thoughts fill your mind, causing you to bite your bottom lip.

“Stop…” you say softly; not even realizing you had said it out loud until Leon stops in his tracks and turns around to face you again.

“Hm? What’s up?” he asks before a knowing smirk begins to cross his lips as he puts his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stammer before dropping the sponge back into the sink, “you just look really fucking hot in those jeans, Leon.”

He lets out a playful laugh before approaching you; you swear he’s swaying his hips as he walks on purpose just to rile you up, and it works. Now standing in front of you, his gloved fingers tracing along your jawline before cupping the back of your head, his fingers carding through your hair. His blue eyes boring into yours, piercing directly into your very soul. 

“Like what you see?” he asks, his voice low and sultry before he leans in, burying his face into the crook of your neck, feeling his lips and tongue upon your skin.

Immediately, your knees are weak and the only sound you manage to get out is a strained whimper as he pushes his body into yours. Your hands, having a mind of their own, reach down around his waist, slipping inside the back pockets of his jeans before gripping his toned ass. Leon lets out a low chuckle against your neck, feeling it reverberate through your body. 

Leon’s hands run down the sides of your body before settling on your waist. He shifts both of you away from the sink before lifting you up by your waist, setting you onto the countertop. He then lifts your sundress up over your knees, gathering it onto your plush thighs before his fingers hook around the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them off and tossing them aside.

Knowing what’s to come, you shift yourself so that you’re balancing on the edge of the counter on your backside, using your hands to brace yourself against the counter. You watch Leon start to remove his belt and holster, but you reach out, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“Keep it on. It’s really sexy,” you say, smiling at him.

He lets out another chuckle before kissing you deeply on the lips, “whatever you want, babe. Let me just make sure the pistol’s safety is on.” 

Leon takes a step back briefly, pulling his Sentinel Nine out of its holster, hearing the click of him engaging the safety before returning it to its holster. He steps towards you again and you watch in anticipation as his fingers undo his jeans, pushing them and his boxers just enough so that his hardening length springs free. You watch his gloved hand wrap around his length, giving it a few strokes before he lines himself up with your soaked entrance.

As he slowly sheathes himself inside you, your legs wrap themselves around his waist and your hands work on removing the straps and buckles keeping his tactical vest in place. Once unbuckled, he shrugs it off himself and it lands on the kitchen floor with a loud thud, leaving him in just his tight, black athletic t-shirt. Now that he doesn’t have the bulky vest on, he wastes no time pressing himself against your body, his hips pistoning into your welcoming heat.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, soft moans escaping you before you lock your lips with his. Your pussy walls clench around his cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body, giving you goosebumps on your arms.

“Oh fuck! Feels so good, Leon…” you breathe out as Leon drives you towards the edge, feeling your orgasm coil in your belly, ready to snap at any moment. 

“Yeah? I’m the only one who’s made you feel this good, aren’t I?” Leon asks, his tone husky and full of playful arrogance.

“Yes!” you cry out, the coil finally snapping, your release completely soaking him, leaving the telltale white ring around the base of his cock.

“Son of a bitch…!” Leon growls, increasing the pace of his thrusts inside you as he chases his own release. He leans in close, his breath tickling your ear before he whispers, “where do you want my cum, sweetheart?”

“Inside!” you whimper, your legs trembling from your earlier orgasm as your arms cling to his back, “please…!”

“You got it babe,” he replies, his hips practically hammering into your body before pressing himself as hard and deep inside you as he can possibly go, painting your walls white with his love. 

The warmth of his cum filling you pulls a long and loud moan out of you, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head and you melt in his embrace. Leon lets out another low chuckle as he wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back with both of his hands as he gives you soft kisses on your cheek.

“Remind me to wear these jeans more often.”

[itsnotamatterofif]

Hello member 1 of 8 of coalectra nation how are we doing today? I hope this satisfies as a first meet!! I also now have them in my head again. Fuck.

✨Want a Stex Drabble? Send me an ask! ✨

“I believe that should be everything.”

The stack of money between them is bigger than anything Porter has ever seen Slick collect before, and that’s impressive considering how hard Electra had haggled her down from fifty. Honestly, he’s mostly amazed Electra just has this much cash sitting around; he knew they were rich but not this kind of comically rich, pulling bundles of crisp bank notes out of a black leather briefcase like he sees criminals do in those crappy westerns Lumber likes.

Then again, Porter remembers, they’re the villains now, accepting hush money for a clean job of fucking over their childhood best friend, and a bit on top for Slick’s help in the next race. Not that he’ll see a penny of it - Slick will probably cover an essential repair for him later down the line - so really, he’s not even a proper villain, just a henchman.

“Do you want to check?” Electra asks wryly, one silvery eyebrow raised expectantly. Something about their gaze is piercing in a way that makes Porter squirm on his wheels, as if they were able to see straight past his outer placing and weigh his soul by eye.

Truthfully, he doesn’t want to. Starlight alone knows why Slick asked him to pick up the cash, she knows he struggles with numbers at the best of times. Shapes he’s alright with, thankfully, and judging by how each bundle was a grand and he can roughly make out that the pile is ten bundles high and two wide, he’s confident it’s the right amount.

“I trust ya’,” he replies lowly, and pops open the lid on his currently empty hopper to begin shovelling the money into. Considering the fact that this is more cash than he’s seen in one place in his life, he figures he should probably be more careful with it, but it’s just going to go into the peeling satchel under Slick’s bunk, so really there’s no reason for him to treat it like gold dust.

Definitely not that it’s more money than he makes in a year, and quadruple what he thinks he’s ever seen in his account at one time.

“You’re very trusting,” Electra muses, and they ease back against the wall of the rusting shed that Porter agreed to meet them behind, “I see why that oil truck likes you - I bet you’ve never questioned her once, have you?”

“I question her every day of my fuckin’ life,” Porter grumbles as Electra’s sparkling lips curl into a thin smile, “but it’s easier to go along with it and at least make sure she gets out of it alive than it is to argue with her.”

“Indeed, quite the force of nature, isn’t she?” Electra asks, but not in a way that suggests they want an answer, “she should count herself lucky she has such attentive colleagues.”

“Colleagues?” Porter can’t help but laugh as he pops the lid down on his hopper to sling it back over his shoulders, “I’ve known Slick since she was a bairn, if she thinks I’m her colleague I’ll kill her-“

“That explains your protectiveness nicely,” Electra interrupts smoothly, as if they were slotting together the pieces of some great puzzle, and Porter frowns for a moment trying to work out the enigma of their expression, the slight tilt of their glamourous brow, the way one of their long, spindly legs is tossed over the other, “quite the older brother, aren’t you? Very sweet, especially since, well, I imagine you’re scrabbling for work now that steam’s day has passed. Does she pay you handsomely for watching her back?”

His chest tightens painfully - why the fuck would they want to know about that? It’s not a stretch by any means to know about the drying up of the coal industry, but this doesn’t seem like something Electra should care about. Truthfully he can’t even say he wants to talk about it, not when the paychecks coming in have been on the decline for months, but the last thing he wants to do is stress out the others when cash is already tight.

Although, Porter thinks, it won’t be for a while after this.

“Work’s fine,” Porter mutters, pursing his lips as Electra’s smile widens, “Slick doesn’t need to pay me.”

“Of course,” Electra purrs, that piercing gaze never breaking for a second as Porter can’t help but feel his cheeks heat up in their scrutiny, “my apologies, I should not have assumed.”

Somewhere in here is a chase, a game to be played and won, and he gets the overwhelming feeling that he has been labelled the mouse as Electra’s lips curl further, catlike and cunning.

“A shame, truly,” Electra muses, but not in a way that makes it seem like they’re lost in thought; instead, casual, but targeted, knowing fully the implication of their words as Porter’s mouth goes dry, “you seem confident, dedicated, loyal to a fault, exactly the criteria I would be looking for if I were to be, say, hiring - plus, I am a fan of adoration, and you seemed to take to that like a duck to water.”

He knew he shouldn’t have blown a kiss earlier. Lumber told him it was a bad idea, now it sounds like Electra wants him. Which would be strange, no one really wants Porter around anymore apart from his friends, which, don’t get him wrong, he’s got many of, but no one really wants him for work-

Unbidden, an image flashes in his mind, the familiar black and red of his armour replaced with silver and chrome, but he shakes the images away before the pounding of his core becomes too loud.

“Thanks for the offer, hen,” Porter chuckles, and hopes that the laugh covers up the slight shake in his voice that he knows shows up whenever pretty people pay him attention, “but I ain’t becoming no fancy electric coach.”

“Pity,” Electra replies as they push themselves off the wall, and Porter forgets how to breathe as one sharp talon draws along the edge of his jaw, Electra merely centimetres away now, “you’d look ever so handsome in my colours.”

He’s not used to being made to feel small, caged in, but Electra towers above him, a private spotlight illuminating every inch of his scarred face. There’s no hiding from their stare, and the drag of the talon sends sparks along his skin, raw and sensitive.

Suddenly there’s the press of something against his chest, and Porter finds it in himself to break their gaze for a moment to look down and see a fresh bundle of notes being pushed into his hands, the flash of a silver business card glinting faintly in the glow of their armour.

“A tip for the delivery boy - keep it to yourself, please,” Electra says lowly; Porter reaches up to grasp it tightly to his chest, and Electra finally steps away whatever weight was preventing his ventilation from working properly eases slightly. “Au revoir, Porter.”

Quiet as the wind, Electra disappears into the night, LEDs flicking off as they turn into the darkness, and Porter can’t help but fall a little bit further down the wall that he’s leaning on. Face alight with crimson and core thumping painfully in his chassis, he must have looked a fuckin’ idiot-

If he’s a little bit late back to the shed, hands trembling slightly and cheeks still flushed, no one says anything.

[tinyghosthands]

“As long as I know the shape of my soul, I’ll be alright.”

[snnowwpheenix]

Mikey (Manjiro Sano)

He walks in and sees you staring blankly at the table.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

You explain softly — they said they don’t want my lunches anymore. He freezes.

“What… are you talking about? But you put little panda notes in there.” He’s genuinely heartbroken on your behalf. “No. No way. They love your lunches.”

You don’t even have to call the kid—Mikey storms into their room.

“Hey. You makin’ your mom sad now?” And after a long dad talk, he comes back with the kid in tow—hugging your leg, apologizing, swearing they just wanted to try the cafeteria and they didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

Draken (Ken Ryuguji)

Sees the quiet sadness on your face and walks over immediately.

“Talk to me. What happened?”

When you tell him, his heart sinks.

“Oh, sweetheart...” He pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head. “Kids get curious. It’s not that they don’t love your food.”

Then he calls the kid in, calmly.

“You’re allowed to want to try new things—but do you know your mom wakes up early just to make your food special?” And the guilt works. The kid's back to asking for heart-shaped sandwiches the next day.

Takemichi Hanagaki

“Huh? Wait what?! They don’t want your lunches?! Why?! WHAT HAPPENED?!” He's spiraling for you.

“Is it the other kids? Did someone say something?! Do they not like panda-shaped rice balls anymore?! I’ll make a petition at the PTA!” You're trying to calm him down now.

Eventually, he sits the kid down, tears in his eyes like he just got rejected, and the child ends up hugging both of you, saying they didn’t mean to hurt your feelings and that they love your lunches—they just wanted to try something new.

Chifuyu Matsuno

He’s gentle the second he sees your expression.

“Hey. C’mere. Talk to me.” When you explain, he frowns—deep in thought.

“I know it hurts. But maybe we just need to ask why.” He gets the kid, talks it out, and listens calmly. When the kid explains they were curious about what other kids were eating, he nods.

“That’s okay. But your mom puts a lot of love into those lunches. You should talk to her when you want to change something, alright?”

You’re left with hugs and an “I still love your lunches, Mommy” by bedtime.

Baji Keisuke

“...They said what now?” He doesn’t get angry. But he gets that look.

He kneels in front of you, serious for once.

“You make those lunches with so much love. If they don’t wanna eat them, I will.” Tries to cheer you up but also goes straight to the kid. “You makin’ your mom sad ain’t funny. Fix it.” It ends with an awkward apology and a compromise: maybe once a week they try school lunch. But your lunches stay.

Mitsuya Takashi

He takes your hand quietly.

“That hurts, huh?” When you nod, he just sighs gently. “They’re growing up... but I know that doesn’t make it easier.”

Later that night, he brings the kid in, sits them both down.

“You know your mom wakes up early to make those lunches just for you, right?” The kid didn’t realize how much it meant. Now they do.

Hakkai Shiba

“Wait, seriously? Why would they say that?” He frowns, rubbing your back.

“Your lunches are awesome. They’re like... Instagram-tier!” He’s not mad at the kid, just upset they don’t realize how lucky they are.

He goes and makes sure they do.

“If you wanna try school lunch, cool—but be kind. Your mom puts her heart in those meals.”

Taiju Shiba

Instant rage.

“What the hell do they mean they don’t want your lunch anymore?!” He’s ready to drive to the school, slam a tray down, and say, “TASTELESS. YOU HAVE NO SOUL.”

You calm him down and explain the kid wasn’t mean about it—just... distant.

So he sits the kid down and speaks firmly.

“Your mom’s been feeding you with love since before you could even say lunch. You don’t throw that away like it’s nothing.” It hits. Hard.

Hanma Shuji

“Daaaamn. That’s cold, even for a kindergartner.” He’s joking, but when he sees how upset you are, he changes real quick.

“Hey... don’t take it to heart. Kids say dumb stuff.” But he will go mess with the kid. “Yo, you makin’ your mom cry now? What are you, a villain?” They end up saying sorry fast, not even sure what they did wrong—but Hanma nudges them toward understanding it with an emotional sucker-punch.

Kisaki Tetta

“...They said that to you?” Fumes behind the glasses.

He’s furious. Not because he thinks the kid’s evil—he’s just mad someone made you feel this way.

He makes sure the kid understands the value behind the lunches, and that every single gesture matters.

“You want school lunch? Say it with kindness. Don’t break your mother’s heart for a milk carton and mushy fries.”

Would you like a follow-up where the kid later makes a lunch for their mom as an apology and surprise?

You said:

them coming home to see their child and s/o in the kitchen laughing. flour everywhere. batter in them as well: Mikey, draken, takemitchi, chifuyuu, kazutora, baji, mitsuya, hakkai, taiju, hanma, kisaki, angry, smiley, izana, kaku, inupi, koko, ran, rin

Mikey (Manjiro Sano)

Walks in, eyes wide, blinking at the mess.

“...Did I miss a food fight?”

Then he sees your smile. The kid’s cackling. You’re both a mess. He just grins and kicks off his shoes.

“Well damn. Lemme grab a spoon.”

He doesn’t care about the mess. He joins in immediately — snatching a glob of batter and smearing it on your cheek like a child himself.

Draken (Ken Ryuguji)

The second he sees the flour cloud from the hallway:

“What the hell…”

Then he hears your laughter. Your kid’s giggle. And his expression softens instantly.

He leans on the doorframe, smiling.

“Looks like I missed the party. What are we makin’, a cake or a new civilization?”

Will help you clean it later. But first? A kiss on your flour-dusted forehead and a warm, “Save me a bite.”

Takemichi Hanagaki

Walks in and FREEZES.

“OH MY GOD, THE KITCHEN!!” But then he hears you both laughing and completely melts.

“Wait… you’re happy? You’re okay?? Oh thank God, I thought the mixer exploded again.”

Joins you both — flour and all. Gets batter on his shirt. Doesn’t even care. He’s just happy to see you two so joyful.

Chifuyu Matsuno

Peeks around the corner and instantly smiles.

“Looks like I came home just in time for dessert.”

He walks over, pulls you in with one arm, ruffles the kid’s hair.

“Flour? Check. Batter? Check. Happy family? Check.”

Later he tells everyone at the pet shop that his house smells like love and sugar.

Kazutora Hanemiya

Pauses in the doorway. Blinks twice.

“Did you guys… bake or blow up the kitchen?”

You both look up with guilty grins and he just sighs — but he’s grinning too.

“I leave for ten minutes…”

Eventually he joins you, wipes flour off your cheek with his thumb, and says, “Let’s wreck the rest of the kitchen together.”

Baji Keisuke

Walks in, sees the chaos, and laughs. Loud and from the gut.

“The hell happened here—y’all makin’ a cake or a mess?”

Walks right up, grabs a handful of flour, and throws it at both of you.

“If it’s war you want…”

Things get worse before they get better. The dog gets batter on its tail. The floor is icing-slippery. Baji’s having the time of his life.

Mitsuya Takashi

He sees the mess, but the first thing he notices is the way your child is beaming.

He smiles warmly.

“Looks like you two had fun. I should’ve brought my apron.”

Joins without hesitation. Starts piping frosting like a pro and somehow makes your chaotic cookies look bakery-worthy.

“This is what love looks like,” he murmurs, snapping a mental photo of the moment.

Hakkai Shiba

Frozen. Speechless.

“W-What happened?!”

He’s nervous at first. “The floor is sticky…” “The stove’s on…” But then he sees the joy in your eyes — and relaxes.

“...Okay. This is… cute.”

He’ll roll up his sleeves and help — even if he’s clumsy about it. Ends up with a heart-shaped pancake in his hand and a blush on his face.

Taiju Shiba

Walks in. Stops. Looks around like he's processing a battlefield.

“…You two rob a bakery or something?” You: “We made cookies!” “In the aftermath of a natural disaster?”

He sighs… then chuckles and pulls out a rag.

“Alright, alright. Let’s clean this, then make me one. A big one.”

Grumbles playfully, but can’t hide the fond look on his face seeing you two laugh.

Hanma Shuji

He’s entertained.

“Daaaamn. I thought I was walking into a bakery, not a battlefield.”

Walks in, grabs a spoonful of batter with zero care, tastes it, and raises his brows.

“Hey this is actually good. Look at my little monsters cookin’ up chaos and sugar.”

Doesn’t clean. Doesn’t judge. He’s just here for the vibes.

Kisaki Tetta

He walks in, sees the chaos, and just… slowly blinks.

“…Are you aware this is not a sandbox?” You: “We were baking!” “You were detonating.”

But he doesn’t scold — especially not when your child pulls him into a hug with flour-covered hands.

He sighs in surrender.

“Fine. But I expect a cookie. A good one.”

Angry (Souya Kawata)

“O-oh no! Did something spill—wait, are you okay?”

He panics at first. But then your child laughs and throws a little flour at him.

He gasps—betrayed!

“You turned against me?!”

Next thing you know, the three of you are giggling and covered in flour together, your toddler riding on Angry’s shoulders while he licks frosting off his own nose.

Smiley (Nahoya Kawata)

Bursts out laughing the moment he walks in.

“Oh I love this. This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

He instantly joins. Grabs the mixing bowl. Starts adding stuff he shouldn’t.

“Wanna make purple pancake pizza?”

Now it’s three chaotic chefs in the kitchen. No one remembers how to bake. Everyone’s smiling.

Izana Kurokawa

At first, a quiet shock. He stares.

“What… in god’s name… happened here?”

But your child runs up and proudly offers him a misshapen cookie.

He takes it, crouches to their level, and gives the softest smile.

“You made this?” Nods. “...It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

You tear up a little at how gentle he is.

Kakucho

“I’m home—” stops “Did flour explode?”

But when he sees you and your child giggling and glowing in the middle of the mess… he smiles.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind cleaning if it means you two had fun.”

He hugs you from behind, smudging your cheek with more batter, and whispers,

“I’ve never seen you both look happier.”

Inupi (Seishu Inui)

He walks in, raises a brow, and says nothing for a few seconds.

“…Are we cooking or committing a crime?”

But there’s no judgment — he’s actually just stunned how happy you and your child look.

Later he’ll be the one quietly sweeping flour into piles while humming. He smiles when your child offers him a spoon of icing and calls him “Master Taster.”

Koko (Hajime Kokonoi)

“What… happened… to my clean kitchen?”

But then he sees your batter-covered smile and the kid offering him a cupcake with sprinkles just on one side.

He blinks, then kneels.

“Did you two do all this for me?” Kid nods. He eats the cupcake, frosting-first, and says: “Then it’s perfect.”

Money can’t buy this.

Ran Haitani

Struts in like,

“Why does it smell like cookies and arson?”

Then sees the flour storm. Laughs.

“Oh, this is gold. Let me get my camera—wait—no wait that’s cute.”

Takes a dozen pics. Joins in. Ends up being the messiest of all, throwing flour into the air like confetti.

Rindou Haitani

“Bro. BRO. There’s a footprint in the sugar.”

Confused. Horrified. Slightly impressed.

“Did a ghost help you bake?”

But he’s also laughing and lowkey loving seeing his child be so wild and happy. Joins in reluctantly, but he’s the one who ends up with frosting on his ear somehow.

[itacats]

Rain of Shadows

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: Themes of emotional vulnerability and isolation, Discussions of past trauma (non-graphic), Mentions of combat and military life, use of code name for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: A meal shared is more than food—it’s a glimpse into the lives behind the battle lines. As laughter and stories fill the air, a cautious bond begins to form. But for some, their stories remain untold, shrouded in quiet resolve.

A/N: There’s something magical about the mess hall—where guarded hearts begin to thaw, and trust is earned over shared meals and banter. Writing this felt like piecing together a patchwork quilt of warmth and shadows. 🥘🕶️

Rain of Shadows Masterlist

Part 3 - Stories Around the Table

The mess hall hummed with life, the mingling scent of hearty stew and freshly baked bread warming the air. Long tables stretched beneath the dim glow of overhead fluorescents, their polished surfaces reflecting the room’s quiet vibrancy. You found your seat at the far end, close to the edge—a calculated choice, granting you space to observe and retreat. The men of Task Force 141 gathered around the table like soldiers returning to campfire stories after battle. Each carried the weight of legends, their stories carved into the hardened lines of their faces and the scars etched on their hands.

The earlier sparring session lingered in your thoughts, the unspoken challenge of fitting into a brotherhood that moved with the ease of well-worn machinery. Their camaraderie was a world apart from yours, its warmth foreign yet strangely magnetic.

Soap was the first to draw you into the fray, his voice bright and buoyant, like a beacon slicing through fog. “Bloody hell, I didn’t think you’d take me down that fast! Had my money on myself right up to the last second!”

Laughter rippled across the table. Gaz leaned forward, his grin sly. “Aye, it was over so quick I didn’t even have time to grab popcorn. Highlight reel material, that.”

Your lips twitched into a small, hesitant smile, not quite comfortable with being the topic of discussion, but grateful for their effort to include you. Across the room, Simon stood silent and still, leaning against the far wall. His presence was like a shadow, watchful and impenetrable, unaffected by the banter.

The conversation meandered, lighthearted and free, until Captain John Price strode into the hall. His commanding presence quieted the laughter, though the warmth in his nod was undeniable. He surveyed his team like a father looking over his children, then gestured toward the table. “Alright, lads. Let’s do a little ‘get to know the team.’ Share something. I’ll go first.”

Price’s voice carried the weight of experience as he recounted his past—clandestine operations in foreign lands, the roar of gunfire echoing in forgotten streets, the bonds forged in the chaos of near-death moments. His story was layered, rich with the wisdom of a man who had lived a dozen lives.

Gaz followed, his tone a mix of pride and modesty. He spoke of his origins in London, where the city’s secrets layered themselves into his soul, and his drive to protect the vulnerable. Soap’s turn brought a wave of laughter as he animatedly described his rise from the muddy fields of Scotland to the sharp precision of an elite soldier, his humor lighting up the room like fireworks on a dark night.

Then it was Simon’s turn. His contribution was curt, almost dismissive. A few sentences about training, an offhand remark about missions, and then he fell silent again, retreating behind the iron wall of his demeanor.

Finally, all eyes turned to you. Your heart thudded painfully, every word you’d rehearsed slipping through your fingers like water.

“I grew up in a small town,” you began, your voice steady despite the weight of their attention. “Wasn’t much to write home about, but it shaped me. I’ve always wanted to serve and help others in need.”

Soap groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. “C’mon, that’s it? Give us somethin’ juicier! Hobbies, bad habits—anything that’s not from a bloody recruitment poster!”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, your guard slipping just a fraction. “Alright, fine. You can ask me anything—but I get to fire one back at you.”

The challenge lit a spark around the table. Gaz leaned forward. “Where’d you grow up, exactly?”

“Michigan,” you replied. “And you?”

“London, mate,” he said with a grin. “Born and raised in a city full of secrets.”

Soap jumped in next, his mischief gleaming. “Any pets? You seem like a dog person. Am I right?”

“No pets,” you admitted. “Wasn’t allowed where I grew up. Though I’ve always liked dogs. How about you?”

The back-and-forth flowed naturally, the questions and answers weaving a delicate thread of connection. For the first time, you found yourself opening up, though cautiously. Each revelation from the others painted vivid strokes of their lives—their quirks, their dreams, their regrets.

Yet through it all, Simon remained silent. He answered no questions, his responses deflected with short, clipped phrases that revealed nothing. When it was your turn to pry, he shook his head.

“Not taking any questions today,” he said, his tone firm yet oddly gentle. “Just listening. Maybe next time.”

There was no malice in his refusal, but it intrigued you all the same. What stories lay buried beneath his silence? What had forged the man behind the mask?

As the night deepened, laughter spilled across the room like a soothing tide. Stories of battle scars, near misses, and impossible victories painted a tapestry of shared experience. Slowly, the table’s warmth seeped into your guarded heart.

It felt… strange. Foreign. Yet undeniably comforting.

At some point, you caught Simon’s gaze. His eyes held a flicker of something—a softness, a curiosity, perhaps? It was gone in an instant, retreating behind his mask of indifference, but it lingered in your mind.

You resolved to understand him, though you knew it would take time. Simon Riley was a fortress, but even the strongest walls could reveal cracks if you looked closely enough.

As the evening wound down and the team began to disperse, the warmth of their camaraderie lingered. For the first time in years, you felt a tentative sense of belonging, a thread binding you to this group of soldiers.

And though the road ahead was uncertain, one thing was clear: this was only the beginning. Task Force 141 was more than a team. Slowly, they were becoming a family.

And Simon’s shadows? You’d uncover them one day. Of that, you were certain.

Taglist:

If you would like to be tagged in this story, let me know!

@jessicab1991

@burningarcadething

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[softroundbunny]

My fantasy 2

I’m so glad you liked it! I was really nervous to send that. And thank you, I try so hard to be the best that I can be so that someday I CAN be a great husband and father :)

I 100% agree. I mostly just use the word “kink” because that’s how I can describe it best, but I agree. It goes much deeper than that, I don’t say it much about things in my life but it’s almost a spiritual yearning and physical desire. A greater purpose that somehow emerges from your heart and soul. It turns you on and makes your heart flutter just thinking about it and the possibility of it. But again, it’s not JUST a physical feeling, it’s also a feeling of a desire to express such a deep and beautiful love. 

I’d like to share another scenario I kind of imagine sometimes when I’m alone if that’s alright? Like I said, just reading your page and the soft nice scenarios gets me so inspired and yearning for it.  

You amaze me with how strong you are. That even at your size, and with the little ones that you carry, you’re still so independent. You stand up just fine on your own, playing with the other kids on the floor, chasing after the rambunctious ones, getting their lunches ready, and getting your proper rest. However, I appreciate that you’re also not afraid to ask for help when you need it, especially come mommas bath time. It’s hard for you to reach around these days and it’s hard for you to get -all- of you clean on your own.

Prepping the nice steamy shower to exactly the temperature you like, helping you strip down out of your restrictive clothes, and just stopping for a minute, admiring what I see. “What is it babe?” “I’m just admiring the view that’s all~” “Admiring what? I look huge and-“ I put my finger to your lips, “Hey hey hey, none of that self doubt ok? You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, before you were pregnant AND now.” *I get behind you and snake my arms around your cushy waist to the front of your taut belly* *Whispering in your ear* “I love you and every beautiful baby you’re carrying. These? *I trace your stretch marks with my finger* Are awards to the best momma on the planet. They’re symbols of your love, OUR love. You work so hard growing and making room for them, and I couldn’t be prouder.” You turn your head and we share a long sweet kiss as your fingers interlock with mine, feeling the babies playing.

I help you into the tub, both of us getting properly wet. I see the relief wash over you as the warm water soothes your aching body. I start to wash my own body as you take care of what you can manage on your own first before I help. You pick up a bottle of soap and put a healthy squirt in your hands, lathering up. Rinsing my hair, I watch you rub nice big circles around your shining wet tummy. My heart can’t help but melt watching you so tenderly rub the soap, staring into space with that beautiful smile, humming a lullaby. The gentle movements, knowing you’re in pure ecstasy, taking good care of yourself and the babies. “Honey?” You pause for a moment “Hm?~” “Have you started thinking of names yet?” “Oh of course, as soon as I knew we were having multiples again I started a list ❤️” At the end you give your hips a healthy sway. “I’ll list them off…would you please?~” you hand me the bottle of the lavender soap. I put a healthy amount in my hands and work it into your shoulders, massaging away any stress, I feel your tension ease into me. “Mmmm~ that’s the spot. For girls I was thinking Jennifer, Marie, Grace, orrr Sherrie.” My hands move down, and I cup each sensitive breast in my hands, lathering them up carefully, running my thumbs over your  nipples. “I’ll try to be careful, I know how tender they are.” “*You carefully breathe in* Thank you baby❤️. For boys I was thinking Samuel, Hunter, Peter, and Rudolph.” I move down from your breasts, sliding down your soft sides, my hands gliding in a U shape as they fill the curvature of your under belly. “Wow, I hadn’t noticed how low you got…it’s getting close huh?” “Mhm~, I can feel the way they’re shifting they’re getting ready to meet us, I’m so excited.” “Me too bunny ❤️and I know the kids are excited to meet them too. It must be heavy sitting so low, do you want me to hold it for a little while? Take the pressure off?” “Oh yes please would you? 🥺” You lean back into me as my hands press up on your under belly, lifting the weight off of your hips. “Oooooh that’s so much better. Thank you honey.” We sit there for a few minutes, you taking in the moment of weightless respite, not having to carry the weight while still being connected to the little ones. It feels so strange to hold them all, in one big ball feeling them kick and shift in my arms. “You ready?” “Mhm” I slowly ease your belly back down. I pat the underside of your belly and kiss your neck. We shut off the water and I help you out of the tub. I take a nice big fluffy towel and help dry you off, of course I can’t help but plant kisses everywhere I get the opportunity. Loving every soft and welcoming inch of you, your gravid swollen middle, your milk heavy breasts, the nape of your tender neck, your cute bubble butt, and of course your thighs. Those beautiful beautiful thighs. While I dry your legs working my hands up your cushy thighs. “Let’s say you and I…move this to the bedroom? That is if you’re even up for it.” You look down at me with a sultry look, you grab my hand and I stand. You waddle, guiding me to the bedroom, “Oh, I’m still up for it~ why don’t you remind me how I got -this- pregnant in the first place❤️” 

I hope you like this one too, it’s cushy and soft (like you lol). You make me feel brave enough to share what’s in my heart and I thank you for that ❤️

another beautiful ask from a kind anon !!! i loved reading this 🥹

[s0ulsice]

Virago: Chapter 3 part 3

Neteyam x fem na’vi!omaticaya!reader

Characters:

Ka’lik- (like you would pronounce “Malik”) Y/n’s father, deceased, a warrior and hunter of the 

omaticaya clan. A teacher to young warriors undergoing iknimaya.

Zensira-deceased, Y/n’s mother, spider's adoptive mother, a strong hunter and the best singer in the omaticaya clan, and a teacher to young hunters.

Kailo-(Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male)

Popiti-(tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

(Also idk how many of you know this but Jake’s ikran’s name is canonically ‘Bob’.)

(WARNINGS!

Sharing a sleeping hammock with the opposite gender (non-romantically)-

Neytiri hating on spider/ mentions of insecurities, heartbreak, war,/ fluff/ angst/ mentions of hunting, killing animals, mentions of therapy, military, ptsd, romance, pining, use of military terms/codewords/  Let me know if I missed anything.

Chapter desc:

Authors note:

Here we go! Chapter 3!! It feels insane to be posting the actual third  chapter of this. But holy moly, building up romance is much harder than I thought. This chapter is a long one so grab your favorite snack, find a comfy spot and buckle up. 

I have a small request for my lovely virago readers, please comment on your favorite line, moment, quote, or dynamic from this chapter. This is so I can know what kind of stuff you guys incline towards so I can throw more of it in as the story continues.

IMPORTANT:

hi guys. So I’ve decided to change spiders age from 20 to 19 for plot purposes. Jake and Neytiri are the same age. Tuk is still 7. Kiri is 19, neteyam is 19, Lo’ak and Y/n are 18.

Important!

This is part 3, the final part to chapter 3. Thank you for your patience!

                                                                   V I R A G O         

Chapter 3;

Surrender to his saubade, he has set his soul and sin ablaze (to be yours)

Part 3 (final part to chapter 3)

Y/n’s pov-

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

(Still Neteyams POV)

Night hunts were a normality for our clan. Especially the ones led by my father.

I stood in the tent, slipping on my arm guards as I prepared myself to join my group on our ikran for the hunt.

I started Mentally checking off everything I needed.

Water flask, ionar (riders mask.), and-

I just can’t seem to focus. 

All I can think about is y/n and how I’m going to speak to her after this hunt. 

Kiri is right. I don’t deserve her. And maybe I never will.

I especially don’t deserve to call her mine.

And that’s okay. I can settle for just having her in my life. That’s enough. 

But that’s a lie. I know it deep down. 

It was never about sex or the physicality of it. I could love her my whole life and never touch her.

Would I go insane? Probably. 

But could I do it? Definitely.

Settling for distance is my sacrifice. Distance is safe. Distance will keep her safe. It’ll keep me sane.

Well, that last part was a lie. 

It’s a glass half full at this point. I told Kiri I only wanted us to be friends again. Normal, average friends.

That’s not what I want. I can keep trying to compartmentalize this for the rest of my life but I’ll always live with this ache. This void in my heart that only fits her shape.

Sacrifices. Sacrifices. Sacrifice-

“Neteyam?”

I snap out of my daze; turning around to see my mother standing in the entrance way to our hut.

“Are you ready yet, ma’itan? 

Lo’ak waits outside for you.”

I shook my head, chuckling awkwardly.

“Ah. Sorry. I got a bit…distracted.

It’s nothing, mother. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

She nods, taking a step closer.

“I wanted to give you something before you leave.”

I turn to face her, my eyebrows raised a bit.

“Oh? Alright.”

She reached behind her back, holding out a small pouch, long and thin tied by a string in a roll.

I open it slowly, knowing whatever was inside was of great value.

Inside laid about 8 newly made arrows. The wood carved for the shaft still fresh in scent and the feathers for the fletching too soft to have been reused.

It’s the color that peaks my eye. The all-too familiar green and yellow shades.

“Your arrows?”

She nods, a look that can only be described as prideful as she gazes at me.

“I want you to use them tonight.”

I shake my head. This was too much of a gesture. I haven’t done anything to deserve.

“Mother, they are beautiful. But I cannot-“

“Ma’itan.”

She cuts me off. Her tone devoid of any hostility or impatience.

“I was thinking about our talk the other night. About your father, and how he is harsh sometimes.

You know well by now what you are. Who and where you come from. You are your fathers son. You have his strength. You carry yourself much like he did in his days of battle. and you must understand that scares him.”

I’m quiet as her words sink in. She places a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes of a golden hue that mirror my own.

“He is not ready to see his son fight his battles or wear his colors. Your father has his own shadows he has yet to face. If you cannot yet wear his colors..I want you to wear mine.”

She places the arrows in my hands, and I’m speechless. 

She gently cups my face, her palm sliding down to my shoulder once again.

“You may use his weapons. You may speak his language. And you have grown up with his sky people ways. 

But never forget, blood of the real warriors comes from us.”

She places two fingers atop her chest, right over her heart.

It breaks my soul to remember that one of my mother’s greatest fears is that we will forget the ways of a na’vi. That even the minimal amount of tech we use in our family circle, with the exception of my fathers gun, seems to threaten everything she knows.

I’m taller than my mother now. Only by a few inches. So I lean down when I go to hug her.

“Irayo, Sa’nok.”

(‘Thank you, mother.’)

I pull back, smiling at her.

“I hope with these, the winds of our ancestors fly with me tonight.”

She chuckles, taking a step back.

“They are with you. Always. No matter where you go. No matter where you are.”

There’s a comfortable silence before my mother sighs, and I put the arrows in the leather pouch that is attached to my ikran saddle for hunting.

“You should go. Your father is waiting with the others.”

I nod, putting on my ionar and finishing slipping on my arm guards.

I lean down, fastening the straps to my leg guards as well before grabbing the small satchel and making my way off.

“Neteyam- one last thing?”

I turn the moment my mothers voice reached my ears.

“Here.” She spoke softly.

I turn to see my mother holding up my beaded choker. The one worn by so many generations of warriors in our clan. I took it off a few days ago when Tuk wanted to re-braid my hair. last time, she kept getting my hair tangled with the clasp at the back of the necklace.

“Let me.”

Without another word, she turns me around by the shoulders, brushing my braids out of the way as she slips the necklace on me, tying the clasp properly to ensure it doesn’t fall while hunting.

She struggles for a moment, having to crane her neck to see properly.

“Curse you and your height.” She mumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

Once she finishes, I kiss her on the cheek before speeding off.

I jog across the pathway, slinging my bow over my shoulder. The thick air of high camp resonating and weaving through the sounds of distant conversations and laughter.

I finally spot Lo’ak and Spider. Lo’ak stands with his bow around his torso, the string brushing his chest. Spider carries a basket of the arrows he and lo’ak made for y/n.

I pinch the back of lo’aks neck before slinging my arm around him.

“Ready for the hunt, baby bro?”

He hissed at me, shoving me away.

“This is bullshit. I fluke once. ONCE. And now dad won’t even let me fly my ikran for the hunt!”

Spider shrugs, as the three of us start walking to the large crevice cutting into the mountains of high camp, making a large entrance way and a stable spot to land and saddle up ikrans for coming or going.

“Look on the bright side. At least you get to go. Plus you’ll be with the direhorse squad with Norm.”

He pushes Lo’ak lightly to walk a bit faster.

Lo’ak grumbled something and speed-walked ahead of us.

Spider sets the basket down once we meet the meeting spot. The same place the clans war and hunting parties gather before a raid

Or a hunt.

Some other hunters start to swarm in. Carrying bows and arrows of their own, all talking amgonst one another.

Spider groans.

“Lo’ak. Look.”

He taps Lo’ak’s arm, not-so-subtly gesturing to Makeyo standing across from us, speaking with one of the other hunters.

Lo’ak fake gags, Spider glares and the both of them stare him down for a good 7 seconds.

An odd feeling settles itself in the more unwelcoming corners of my heart.

Like fingers trying to pry their way through a barrier.

Something tenses in me as I find myself staring at him too. Remembering how y/n spoke of him at dinner.

Makeyo a bit shorter than me. Only by a few inches. My hair is longer, his braids reaches his shoulders. Still taller than y/n though. 

It’s only when I hear spider whispering I snap back to reality.

“Oh fuck. He’s coming over here. Don't make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact.”

Spider stares up, whistling as he shoves his hands behind him, leaning on a rock. Lo’ak fidgets with one of the arrows, both of them over exaggeratedly feigning to ignore Makeyo’s approaching figure.

He smiles at me, greeting us with an unhesitatingly proper formality.

“Neteyam. Lo’ak,”

He pauses for a moment, having to avert his eyes downward to notice spider.

“Ah, and..”

He struggles for a moment to recall spider’s name. Spider can only glare at the taller na’vi that somehow appeared even more intolerably annoying when he was being kind.

“Spider.” Spider mumbles, crossing his arms.

“Y/n’s brother.” I add, stepping in front of spider to try and distract Makeyo from the smaller human that looked like he was plotting a murder.

Makeyo nodded in recognition, smiling softly.

“Right. I assume y/n will be leading us tonight? As usual. She’s your fathers right hand man.”

“Woman.” I correct, with an unintentional edge delineating my tone. An almost crude enunciation of the word finds itself leaving my lips, making Makeyo still for a moment before chuckling.

“Of course. And what a woman she is..”

When did his face become so punchable?

Makeyo is someone that makes himself very difficult to hate.

Helpful, kind, smart, good with kids, the whole ordeal.

But I am no foreigner to a mask. Why? Because I wear one every single day of my life. Sometimes I wonder what Makeyo’s mask looks like. Or if he even wears a mask at all. Forever yearning to grasp such a thing that always seemed to evade you.

I bite my lip, my jaw tensing as my eyes graze over the expanse of his figure. Up then down.

Makeyo falters for a moment, but proceeds with an unhesitatingly sweetened glean in his eye.

“What I mean is, she is just amazing. Well, I don’t need to tell you that, of course. You’ve practically grown up with her.”

Something about the way he so shamelessly displays his simpering delusions of innocence in the form of this crush he has on y/n-

For lack of a better word, is really starting to piss me off. His bold assumptions of platonic love between me and y/n makes my tail flick.

And no, I’m not jealous. I’m not. Really. Yes, I am capable of violent impulses and of course, I do fantasize about punching his face every now and then, but that’s not jealousy. Is it? No. Of course it’s not.

Yeah, maybe I slightly envy the fact that he can love her so freely. 

The way he could stand where he couldn’t see and hold her hand, unbothered by the absence of sunlight to compulsively provide promises of safety and sanctuary. Maybe I hate that he is unburdened by the weighted whispers of the elders and third eyes peskily pruning gazes at holding her hand. Maybe I hate that he spends almost all day with her. Watching her laugh, and interact so perfectly with the children of the clan.

Maybe I hated the way he had no history with her that resonates with soured feelings and broken promises. I envied his clean conscience.

But that’s not jealousy…of course not.

He’s called away to assist with some other task, and when I turn around Lo’ak and spider are quickly jogging in the opposite direction, towards the edge where an familiar red, purple, and blue ikran perches, with an even more familiar rider on his back.

Y/n smirks as she hops off of  Kailo, the creature releasing an almost purr-like shrill as it rubs its chin against y/n’s cheek.

She chuckles, small luminous sparks leaking through the tops of the rocky stronghold flirting with her pulchritudinous smile.

She hums, gently petting the banshee’s neck.

“Mawey, pretty boy.”

I don’t really know why, but ‘pretty boy’ had an odd way of making my chest flutter. Even if I knew she was talking to her ikran.

She flips her braids over her shoulders. Y/n as always had a bit of a more effete-feel to her wardrobe. That of a warrior, of course. The strongly woven arm guards and her beaded cuff to tie her hair back when she flew, or hunted, always easily annoyed with her braids falling in her face.

The waist beads she wore, which were usually made by Kiri or my mother, were always a signature habit to herself.

She had quite a few scars, blemishes, and bruises that canvassed her skin. I find them beautiful. Like the patterns of the universe printed onto her skin.

Spider and Lo’ak fake saluted as y/n made her way towards them.

“Y/n, ma’am.”

Spider tipped his head ever so slightly, Lo’ak dramatically bowing, making her roll her eyes and laugh.

“At ease, boys.”

Lo’ak stands up straight again, slinging an arm around her shoulder and gesturing to spider.

“We made you something.”

Spider proudly holds up their basket of arrows.

There’s something indescribably tantalizing about the way she smiled at those two. 

“Aw guys, you shouldn’t have..”

Spider scoffed, placing his hands on his waist.

“Please. It was our pleasure to assist the mighty archer.”

It’s a moment later when spider and Lo’ak run off to help norm, and I stand quietly behind y/n as she places the new arrows in her side saddle along with her bow.

“I’m assuming you were on babysitting duty? Supervising those two with the fire pit and sharp edges?”

She teased, nudging my shoulder. I chuckle back, shrugging.

“Of course. Someone has to prevent the children from running with their hunting knives.”

She shakes her head, another giggle tumbling past her lips.

“Tuk? Or Lo’ak and spider?”

I hum before leaning over a bit to stand a bit closer.

“Why not all of them?”

She laughs once again, and my palms feel warm for a moment.

I clear my throat, straightening my back a bit.

“Y/n. Can We talk abou-”

“Alright people let's get moving! Fall in and line up!”

I’m cut off by the sudden cannonade of my father’s voice. Y/n’s  eyes widen a bit as it flickers to where he stood. Talking with uncle norm. She glances back at me, patting my back. “Later. Okay?”

I can’t even respond before she jogs over to my father, only stopping her dauntless strides when she pauses to fist-bump norm.

I follow suit with the other hunters in an almost feverish manner. Slinging my bow around my torso and finding a spot in the forming two long lines of other hunters and warriors beside Lo’ak.

“Let's move it people! We’re wasting the sunset! Oscar-Mike (move out), people, lets get it done!”

When the last few of the younger hunters scurry into line, my father stands tall in front of all of us, his arms crossed over his chest. Don’t be fooled by the brute build. He’s still the same man who stumbled into hometree all those years ago with a ‘good evening everyone’ and a ‘please don’t get up’.

He clears his throat bef0re he starts to speak.

“Good to see everyone turn up for tonight's hunt. This will be no different from training you’ve all had in the past, or currently undergoing.”

Some nod, others shift nervously on their feet.

Y/n approaches from behind my father. Her strides not faltering for even a second. Her chin titled high, looking us over with a gaze of a storm flooded a seafloor beneath a tideline. Y/n doesn’t get in line with us, no. Her place is beside my father. A leader.

spider perched behind her on one of the high ledges in the unevenly rocky stone walls of highcamp. One of his hands placed on her shoulder to keep himself from leaning forward too far.

My father continues.

“For those of you still training for your iknimiya, you will be on the ground team with Norm, and Awkey and the Olangi hunters will join us tonight. Stay in line with them. You will ride the pa’li on the perimeter of that narrow clearing in the middle of the grove. Understood?”

A few yips and grunts were heard from the younger na’vi, a few raising their bows and nodding their heads.

Father nods, turning back to face us again.

“Warriors. Those of you who have passed iknimiya and have ikrans will be in the sky. Bows on the ready, death from above.”

He takes a step back, gesturing to Y/n, who still stood in her place behind him.

“Y/n, my most trusted Archer, will be in command of the sky team. You are to stay within her flight patterns, and not go beyond what she sees as a fit perimeter. Follow her orders, and you might just learn something.”

Father finishes giving us our positions, and I stray from my assigned group, only for a moment. I walk towards the opening to the crevice, leaning down and making the bird call my mother taught me, pressing my lips together and releasing a high-pitched note of a sound.

The familiar flap of wings resonates in the air below me, and before I can blink, my ikran perches herself infront of me, making a soft shrill noise of her own. In all her glory, the green, brown, and yellow skin worn like a Hyde of the forest.

I pet her neck, adjusting the side saddle for my bow and tightening the neck reigns.

Rey’sa is what I named her.

Broken fragments of my mothers language stitched together. The meaning is a remembrance of Seze. My mothers first ikran. I had a toy ikran that was painted green, brown and blue, when I was around Tuk’s age. Y/n’s mother had gifted it to me when I was 7. Modeled after Seze even in color, my mother happily shed tears at the sight of the small wooden toy.

It’s been passed down. Me and Kiri played with it, then Lo’ak, then Tuk.

The toy is old and cracking now, the paint peeling away. I think love is holding it together. Tuk sleeps with the thing every night. I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable, though.

My iknimaya dodged the fateful curse of a chaotic, violence-craving ikran.

I’ve watched my brother and y/n almost die during their right of passage. Meanwhile, Rey’sa bucked me off maybe twice and it was over. Made the bond, had our first flight, the whole works.

I pet her neck, smoothing my palms over the leather skin one last time before I mount. My leg swinging over as I adjust the inner part of my thighs against the saddle.

I wait for my fathers signal.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Y/n’s pov:

Neytiri hated when Norm and Max joined the hunt. Or any hunt for that matter. Hunting was a sacred practice to na’vi. To take a life in such a delicate way it’s almost painless. She didn’t want the sky people’s ways to taint such a delicate tradition.

You walk over to where Norm and Max were packing some extra radios in the Samson seat packs, Norm checking all the controls as he whistled a tune to himself.

When you approach, his ears perk up, and he smiles. His usual tan colored vest and shorts fashioned securely to his avatar body.

“Hey kiddo.”

He gives you a hug, ruffling a few of your braids. Mex sits behind him, sitting on the benched ledge of the side entrance to the aircraft, giving you a thumbs up and a soft smile.

Norm sighs, taking a step back, his hands on his hips as he looks you over.

“Look at you. Growing into a brave warrior. Seems like only yesterday and you and spider were running around the lab.”

Norm and Max had been like family to you. Especially with your parents always accounting for Spider, they didn’t completely understand how to raise a human boy, so Norm and Max were always there with extra breathing packs and masks. Plus, being a package deal with spider meant you hung out in the lab just as much as he did when you were little. Poking around at all the link beds and making norm play your stupid little games of tag, even pestering max. Sometimes, Max would let you use his glasses to look at different plants and leaves, because you loved the way things looked under the glass. 

And sure, some na’vi mothers and fathers couldn’t possibly comprehend why such intelligent, well respected clan members like your parents would leave their daughter under the watch of two sky people. But it didn’t matter. Max and Norm fared well as babysitters.

You smiled at Norm, a small laugh leaving you.

“Well. Seems like your joining us on another hunt?”

Norm nods, adjusting the radio on his hip.

“Yup. I keep telling Jake the misses’ ain’t gonna be happy with us tagging along, but he says it’s for Safety. If anything goes wrong, if RDA wants to show up for another playdate.”

You nod, thinking about the attack awhile ago.

Your attention rechannels itself towards the smaller pale creature that emerges from behind a much taller Norm in his avatar body.

Spider blinks up at you through the sheet of glass that has acted as a blockade between you both ever since you were 2. Protecting him from the unwelcoming atmosphere of Pandora.

“Y/n.”

He huffs.

“Please inform Norm here that I’m old enough to drive the Samson.”

Max scoffed.

“It’s not about age, Junior. It’s about training.”

Spider rolls his eyes, gesturing to you with over dramatic movements.

“I’m 19. I’m too old to be hitching rides on my little sister's Ikran.”

Norm shrugged.

“Fine. You can start riding with me and Maya.”

Maya was Norm’s ikran. He told you it was named after someone from the past. Back in the first war. 

Her name is Trudy. Jake told you that you reminded him of her sometimes. Same attitude and rebellious spirit. She piloted a Samson 16, and always called it ‘Maya.’ You admired that he named his own set of wings after someone’s dream of flying.

Spider shook his head.

“Or, let me at least have my own avatar. So I can pass Iknimaya, and get my own ikran!” 

Norm nods, a sudden wave of enthusiasm. “Sure junior. Just put 40 million on the table and i’ll have your order ready in the next..hm..12 years?”

Spider groans, rolling his eyes.

You laugh at Norm’s sarcasm. Though, a part of you really did feel bad for Spider.

Norm and Max were called over to talk with Jake one last time before the group descended, leaving you and spider alone.

You sat next to Spider on the step up to the cockpit, rubbing his back.

“You know I love you no matter what size you are, right?”

Spider scoffs, his head tilting the opposite way.

“Gee. thanks.”

You chuckled, and he spared you a small smile.

He sighed, staring out at the na’vi hunters and warriors that mounted their ikrans, preparing to descend.

You could never imagine what it was like for Spider. Being born a human on a planet he couldn’t even breathe freely on.

Ideals formed under disillusion. The little, messy-loc’d pale boy you’d help paint blue as a child is no longer shielded from the pesky whispers and glares of your clan. 

You don’t think its fair. You never did.  And you even found it a bit hypocritical. Considering your clan’s never ending preachings for the value of nature, balance, and adaptation.

Spider has adapted to be just like your people. And he’s done a pretty fucking good job.

Your moment is interrupted by Norm, who jogs back with Max trailing behind him.

“We’re moving out! Y/n, you’re needed in the front. Spider, lets get moving!”

You nod, grabbing your bow and giving one last small glance to spider.

He smiles.

“Be safe. Please.”

You scoff.

“I’m always safe.”

With that, you mounted Kailo, and took to the skies.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Y/n’s pov

The wind whipped and wailed. The familiar sting of raw current against your cheeks was oddly soothing. Your team flew behind you. Neteyam, Makeyo, a few others. Jake next to you, and Awkey below. The smaller group of Pa’li hunters maintain obedience in formation as the maddening rhythms of horse hooves assault the ground beneath you. The half-finished notes demand attention through the heavy thrumming melody.

“X, do you read me?”

Jake’s voice comes through your throat comm with a static quality. Struggling to maintain volume against the violent symphonies that crowded the night air. 

You place two fingers on your comm, allowing your voice to cut through the mic.

“I read you.”

“Norm’s radars are picking up some heavy movement to the east. Take your squad and dive on down. I’ll catch up.”

“Roger that.”

You lift your bow, turning your head over your shoulder. Sending a call to your team, you start to dive further down beneath the canopy. They don’t hesitate to follow you, some even going as far to mimic your dive move.

You don’t have any words for what you see below on the muddied path.

You’ve been sturmbeest hunting before. Many times. But this..This was something you only imagined.

Sturmbeest in the most intense stampede imaginable, some even tripping and folding over one another. There doesn't seem to be even the smallest amount of space between them as they charge.

You made a signal for your team to disperse, some falling behind you or to the left side of the perimeter, keeping a close trail with the pa’li hunters. You saw lo’ak behind Awkey as he led them further down the sidelines. He looks just as shocked as you are.

Jake arrived on the scene not soon after.

His voice broke through your comm again, this time connecting Neteyam.

“X. stay front and center. Makeyo and Pathfinder are gonna spot you from the right. Try and find some targets. The rest of your team are far out behind.”

Minutes had passed, and you had watched the pa’li hunters desperately try to squeeze their way into the flow of traffic.

You watched a good portion of the hunters attempt at shooting one of the sturmbeest on horseback using their bow, only for the arrow to bounce off the rough exterior of the skin.

You watched a few of them collapse in a pile of chaos. 5 of them using spears only to get rammed down by a new group of the mud-covered giants, thrown with their pa’li into the dirt. The sight made you wince. Every fiber of your being just screaming for you to dive down there and help.

“Fuck it.”

You mumbled under your breath, preparing kailo to dive.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jake calls out to you.

You turn to see him, weaving through the trees on bob. 

You shake your head, your long braids wildly whipping in the wind.

“Sir, we have too many hunters riding pa'li down. If we just sent support to the ground level we’d make a kill!”

Jake shook his head. “Forget it, X. Your job right now is to keep your squad in line. If you dive, you run the risk of all of them diving down after you. You say up, they say how high. You gotta keep yourself steady, kiddo.”

You hiss to yourself, your ikran feeling mutual frustration as a shrill escapes your companion.

Neteyam flies ahead with you, his bow at the ready on his side.

“Any openings?” he calls to you, and you only shake your head.

“None that don’t look risky.”

Neteyam nods, his eyes scanning the path.

“Let's get a bit closer. We can scout better angles from below.” he offers.

It wasn’t a terrible idea. You looked to your side, your eyes locking with Neteyam’s. Flames that weren’t quite worthy of being threatening engulfed a jaded voice under your chest. Promises of sunlight and safety that were agonizingly familiar shade of olive green and bright yellow. The same sounds of a bird thrashing in a cage. Exhausted and rough, and yet, there was trust beneath the surface. Like jumping off a cliff and knowing something will catch you.

He nods at you. 

“I’ll be right behind you, X.”

You grab your bow and dive, Neteyam follows your lead.

You cruise above the chaos, mud flying in damp specks, your vision is clouded by dust and overbearing sensations.

Neteyam is beside you, and you can feel his gaze shifting between you and the path below in a predictable pattern.

Your eyes focus on a small rift forming in the middle of the stampede. Like a crack in the mountain. An open space where single beasts drifted in and out of a bare area.

Maybe small spaces still managed to infatuate you.

Your eyes locked onto one sturmbeest that took its turn in the middle. You reached for an arrow, pulling back the string of your bow. The familiar satisfying stretch felt beneath your finger tips as neteyam spotted you from beside, tilting himself down along with you.

You quickly devised a plan. A blockade of sorts could be created. If you shot down at least two of the biggest sturmbest, the rest would slow down because of the largest creatures stumbling about.

You traded in your singular arrow for two of your own, resuming your position as you pulled back your arrows.

Neteyam seemed to understand your plan, grabbing an arrow of his own.

You both nodded at each other, a mutual procedure seemingly placed into action.

“Ready whenever you are, X. I’m under your order.”

Neteyam’s voice sent a cold sensation down your spine. Something about obedience..The willingness to follow your every move.

You both released your arrows, one of your arrows hitting the exact same spot as his in one of the largest sturmbeest, your other arrow landing solo in the other.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The two beasts stumbled into the mud, causing the other sturmbeest to disperse into a wider path. Creating more room for targets.

Neteyam let out a celebratory war call, following your lead as you and Kailo flew up, circling Reysa and Neteyam.

“Hell yeah!”

You screeched.

“Hell Yeah!”

Neteyam mimicked you, his accented voice sounding funny on the human term spider taught you.

You both laughed, circling each other on your ikrans as the wind caught your hair.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as you both caught each other's gazes.

But it didn’t last for long.

“Y/n!”

Lo’ak’s voice screeched through the static of your throat comm, causing you and Neteyam to pause. 

You placed two fingers on your throat comm, tuning into lo’ak’s distressed call.

“I’m here. what’s happening?”

“It’s spider! The Samson is dragging too close to the sturmbeest, its looking dangerously close to a collision. Dad’s comm isn’t going through and neither is norm’s! You have to get through to them!”

Your heart thrashed itself into an unyielding rhythm of uncertainty.

You don’t even answer Lo’ak. You dive back down, ignoring the calls of your name leaving Neteyam.

You finally find yourself parallel to the Samson, that, quite literally as Lo’ak described, was dragging through the air, the usual smooth running ship making unusual sounds as norm seemed to struggle along with a concerned max on the controls. A malfunction maybe? Eywa. Why now?!

You yelled to catch spiders attention, he jumped out of his seat and leaned on the edge of the side door that was now wide open, hanging out with only his arm holding him up as he gripped a bar.

“Tell Norm and Max to go up!”

You screamed, desperately making hand motions.

Spider couldn’t hear you. He leaned a bit closer to hear when suddenly the Samson dips down further, a sturmbeest bucks upwards.

Your heart seemed to completely cease beating for a moment.

You didn’t see what happened. All you knew is that when you looked back at the ship, spider was gone. The panic that sets in was enough to smother your vision in an unfamiliar color you couldn’t quite place. Panic rushed through you in bolts as all you could think of is the possibility of your brother being dead. The boy you carried around on your back for so many years. The boy who protected you from all the creepy boys in the clan. The boy who let you scream and cry and vent after Neteyam broke your heart.

A small whimper left your lips, and you can’t really tell if you’re crying or not.

The world around you seemed almost in a reflective like manner, as If kept in a kaleidoscope or a dome.

You dive down desperately, screaming for him, your voice tearing through the wind.

Neteyam dives down after you, cursing to himself and calling for spider as well.

The world around you seems to blur when you catch sight of a smaller pale creature sprawled out on the ground, unconscious.

You dive down, scooping him up by the waist and throwing him on the back of your ikran, one hand struggling to steer as another hand keeps spider slumped against your back, stretched behind you.

Lo’ak is below you, following you on the back of his pa’li.

You land a bit farther from the path in the forest, jumping off your ikran with jagged, uneven breaths as you laid spider on the grass with scrambling hands.

You freeze when you see the twitching of his hands, and the small crack in his mask.

And all you can think about is how if you lost spider, you really did have no family left.

“No, no no no no no please-“

You whispered, not knowing what to do or how to fix this.

Do you take it off? Leave it?

You resort to placing your hand over the crack, thinking maybe it’ll keep more air from slipping inside.

Your vision starts to blur with tears. And just when you place your palm atop the glass, you feel a jolt of pain rush through your wrist.

The pressure you applied had cracked the mask even more, and now tiny shards of glass had covered your palm.

You didn’t feel the pain. Not at first. But then, like the bitch it was, adrenaline was starting to abandon you.

Lo’ak hops off his pa’li and runs towards you, leaning down.

“Shit! Spider!”

He looks at you.

“What happened? What- how-“

Tears streamed down your cheeks. And Lo’ak stared for a moment as one of the strongest people he knew was crying right in front of him.

“H-he fell- I don’t-“

Your breathing becomes uneven.

Behind you you see Jake and Neteyam both land their ikrans, the Samson landing behind them a bit in the distance as norm runs carrying a first aid kit.

The air around you thieves you of oxygen as your chest becomes heavy.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, gently pulling you to your feet as your turned around and met with Neteyams golden hour eyes, his palms softly dragging down your cheeks to your collarbones,

“Hey-hey look at me. Are you hurt?” 

You try to speak but the air in your lungs is swallowed instead, and you gasp.

“S-spider.”

He turns you the opposite way, shaking his head.

“Don’t look at that right now. Look at me. Just keep your eyes right here. I’m right here. Y/n.”

He looks you over, and freezes when his eyes settle on your palm.

“Shit. Your hand-“

You look down, seeing the thin trail of warm red liquid that dripped down your fingertips.

You felt like a faceless phantom in a hollow shell of a wreckage you called your body. Watching the world spin by as you remained trapped in your bird cage of broken wing bones.

You watched as Norm quickly replaced spider mask, his chest rising up and back down again like an ocean being suppressed under a sheet of glass.

You almost release yet another sob when spider regains consciousness. His eyes blowing wide like a shell-shocked animal. The sight of his pale hand gripping Norm’s much  larger bicep makes you sick to your stomach.

Neteyam gently guides you by your waist to behind one of the trees, you press your back to the rough bark in hopes some kind of sensation will break this shock.

He takes your hand, grabbing the waterskin pouch from his knife sheath strap.

You watch as he pours the clear liquid onto your cut. 

The cool water washing away the remnants of red and painful delirium that stained your hand was a soothing stimulation.

He’s movements are quick. Unrehearsed. A raw desperation submerged under his skin.

He rips a strip of fabric off of his loincloth, kneeling down as his knees suddenly assault the dirt with his sudden drop.

He gently takes your hand, wrapping the cloth around the wound, methodical movements carefully tying off this makeshift bandage.

He stands to his feet again, running his palms down your shoulders, then your arms, then your newly bandaged hands.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shake your head. You find yourself in an absent abstraction of a state. A warped, uncanny fabrication of reality. This verisimilitude within a broken mirror. A wondering reflection.

“You’re shaking.”

His deep accented voice breaks your wall.

You find yourself collapsing into him.

It was a blur, the whole thing.

Your face pressed to Neteyams chest as he kept an arm around you. You breathed in his scent, reminiscences in the familiar warmth of him, an almost magnetic feeling flowing through you.

And for a moment, the spaces didn’t seem too small anymore.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Y/n’s pov.

Norm says it was an accident. And accidents are prone to happen.

You sat in Mo’at’s tent, watching as the last few warriors had their injuries cleaned and bandaged.

You fidgeted with your bandage on your hand. Neteyam’s old one had been discarded when you returned, and you were given a real wrap for your hand.

Spider was alive. His breathing was normal again, but he suffered from his fall. You’re shocked he got away with only scrapes and bruises. He wasn’t allowed to climb or leave camp for the next few days. He was confined to bed rest. 

He was now resting in the lab bunks. Norm and Max promised you they would not leave his side. It gave you some comfort. 

It’s funny, really. How you had no problem facing war. You were good at strategy. A fierce archer. Different from some other na’vi who felt repulsed by human things.

You were fascinated with calculations and numbers. Planning and plotting. Reading and graphing. Heights, distances, etc.

But when something so sudden and blunt like your brother almost falling to his death out of a skyship, you fumbled and almost killed him.

You fidgeted with your bracelet. The one you, spider, and Lo’ak made as children. Twirling the beads between your fingers and staring down into the void of colors and shapes.

The feeling of Neteyam’s arms around you is far from absent. His scent lingers. Honey and wooded. 

When you returned, he didn’t leave your side. He led you to his grandmother's tent, gave you water and sat with you until his father dragged him away to assist with gathering the meat from the beast you both hunted up to camp.

You didn’t like being pampered or prodded at, but for some reason your skin that now feels as hollow as a shell, it  practically became a ragdoll under Neteyam’s hands.

The world around you felt far too big for this small tent to be encasing the storm of thoughts under your skin.

“Y/n!”

Tuk scampers inside through the entrance, practically throwing herself into your arms.

“Oh Tuk-Tuk.” You whisper, finding familiar warmth carrying you back to reality.

You held Tuk close. As if some threat of a force would take her away. As if the hollowness that shaved your bones longs for something to protect. Something to keep within the circle of your arms.

You smoothed back her braids, kissing her head. 

“You’re back.”

She whispers, nuzzling her head into your shoulder. You place your hand on the back of her head, keeping her still and safe.

“Of course I’m back. I’ll always come back. What do I always tell you, love?”

Tuk sniffles, wiping her big eyes with the back of her hand.

“It would take a thousand sky ships to take you away?”

You smiled, tapping her nose gently.

“Make it a million.”

She smiled, but it fades away a bit as she glances down.

“Is spider okay?”

You still for a moment, the familiar ache in your chest returns.

“Oh little love. He’ll be just fine. Spider is big and strong. He’s a wild child, remember?”

You scooped tuk up into your lap, pressing a few kisses to her head, tickling her stomach. She giggled and thrashed in your arms.

“Y/n! Stoppp!”

She laughed wildly.

Finally, you put her back down, letting her snuggle up next to you as you wrapped an arm around her.

It wasn’t long before Kiri and Mo’at entered.

You bowed your head slightly, greeting mo’at.

“Ma’tsahik.”

She nodded at you, placing a hand on your head, smoothing down a few stray hairs from your braids.

“The salve will take affect soon, child. But you must not use it for the next few hours. Let your mind and your body heal.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand.

“Thank you.”

You whispered.

Kiri sat behind you, starting to untangle a few of your braids from its disheveled position tied back with your beaded cuff.

“Let me straighten your braids, tsmuke (sister). It looks worse than my fathers job at braiding.

You snorted, rubbing Tuk’s back as a small giggle leaves her lips.

Mo’at started to clean up the bowls laid around, behind her entered Lo’ak.

“There’s my sister from another mister. Killer shot.”

He teases, locking his hands with yours in a handshake-hug gesture you and him

Picked up as children from watching norm and Jake do it so many times.

When you pull away, he swings his arm around you, making himself comfortable as he leans sloppily over you, pushing Kiri back further.

She groans.

“Lo’ak! You idiot! Stop making me pull her hair!”

He shrugs Kiri off.

“Relax. We all know who y/n’s favorite sully is.”

Kiri scoffs and you reach behind your head to squeeze her hand.

Before you even realize it, the broken fragments of fear and self-hatred wither away under the surface of a settled skin. No longer sleepless with worry. 

The air feels lighter with Tuk’s small snuggles and Kiri’s gentle hands running through your long braids, leaving some pieces at the ends unbraided just as she always loved the way it looked on you. Your chest doesn’t feel so tight after a few of Lo’ak’s stupid jokes and stories. The laughter seemingly loosening the threads of torn tapestry.

A few hours later, Neytiri enters the hut.

“Mama!”

Tuk squirms out of your arms, running to neytiri as she smiles softly down at her youngest.

“Oh tuk.”

She hums, leaning down to kiss her daughter's head, her attention turning towards you after tuk jogged away to mo’at.

“My sweet. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, standing to your feet as she gestures for you to come closer, wrapping her arms around you and resting her chin atop your head, kissing your hairline.

“Oh my strong girl.”

She whispers, running a hand down your back.

“Strong heart.” She hums, stepping back a bit as her eyes slowly take you in.

She turns to Lo’ak and Kiri, who stand up soon after you.

“Your father has called a gathering of the clan’s hunters and warriors.”

She turns to you and Lo’ak, tilting her head upwards slightly.

“Your presence is needed. Both of you.”

You feel yourself straighten instinctively as you let her words register past the lingering haze of your earlier experience still looms over you like a storm cloud.

Lo’ak stretches, ruffling Tuk’s hair as she hisses and swats him away.

“Alright then. Let’s get moving.”

He nudges your elbow, brushing past Neytiri who softly touches his shoulder as he passes by.

“Y/n. A moment please.”

Neytiri’s slender fingers wrap around your forearm. Not harshly, but her voice has a clear coat of concern.

You pause, looking at Lo’ak once more as he ceases his strides.

“Y/n? You coming sis?”

You nod.

“I’ll be there in a minute. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

He nods, starting to walk away.

Neytiri turns to her mother.

“Sa’nok. Do you mind watching Tuktirey and Kiri?”

Mo’at shakes her head, standing to her feet and ushering Kiri and Tuk back to the sully family marui, Kiri giving you one last hand squeeze and Tuk giving you a small hug.

Once the tent is empty, your focus rechannels onto Neytiri. 

“Is there something wrong?”

You ask.

She shakes her head.

“I just wanted to see if you were alright, yawne.”

Her hands rest on your shoulders, traveling down to your arms.

“You have been through so much these past few weeks, my sweet. If you ever need anything, please, don’t ever be afraid to ask me or Jake or Tsahik. You know this.”

You nod. Smiling softly to reassure her. This woman. This strong, beautiful woman who was giving you the love your mother left behind.

“I am fine. I promise.”

She sighs.

“You have dark circles under your eyes, Y/n. Your thinning a bit. You need sleep, and proper meals.”

She cups your face.

“All I ask is that you take care of yourself, my sweet. And please, let us take care of you. We are here for you. We always have been  and will be.”

She gently runs her thumb over your cheek.

“Lean on us, yawne.”

You smiled, the two of you embracing one another in a hug.

You step back after a few moments.

“I promise. I’ll practice at it.”

She smiles and kisses your head.

“Tonight may be a bit evasive for sleep, thought. I’m gonna spend a few hours in the lab before turning in.”

Neytiri tilts her head.

“The sky people room? Why?”

“To check on spider.”

Her expression sours slightly as she hears his name.

“I’m sure he is healing just fine. The sky people’s tools take no time at all, it seems.”

There was an edge in her voice, but you knew it wasn’t directed towards you.

It was a difficult case when it came to what is left of your family.

It was always you, your father, your mother, and spider. A circle of safety and familiarity that never left you unguarded.

When your parents died, you were placed under the care of Jake and Neytiri. Neytiri would do anything for you. She would go to the same lengths for you, she would go to for any of her children. In her eyes, you were hers. Hers to love.

But love is a sacrificial abstraction. (Seems to be a common theme, does it not?)

You think what frustrates her is the sacrifices you make for him. Love was a unsteadily structured sentiment. And when all his attempts seem futile in forms of pale skin painted blue, there was a sensitive inflection of utterances. 

You were his sister. You weren’t leaving him.

To Neytiri, your life was a cage. Stuck with this feral human boy who fancied himself a na’vi. A soul coaxed to wild-child thunderstorms and bruised knees from tree climbing, messy locs from days of sunlit spaces.

In her eyes you were stuck with Spider. 

Her love and protection was something that created a barricade between you and your brother. You prayed you would never find yourself having to choose between spider and her.

“I should go see him. Just to check on him. I won’t be there long.”

Neytiri nodded, but you can tell she was biting her tongue.

You give her one more soft smile before turning to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turn at the call of your name, and she only utters a few words.

“Your mother loved that…boy. I know she did. But you are allowed to think differently. You need not be burdened with carrying yourself and another.”

You didn’t need her to elaborate. You understood.

You nodded.

“My mother believed that connection is unconditional. The color that stains our skin and our blood doesn’t make a family. She always told me that if you bind yourself to pure hatred, you forget who you are. I love my people. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Neytiri’s tail swished.

“Y/n. Do not abandon what eywa has given us.”

Her voice was pleading. As if trying to place tessellations of an invisible disillusionment. A carefulness edged.

“I abandon no one.”

You whispered, holding her hands.

“But please. Understand that my home was built around both me and spider. The biggest abandonment I can see from that would be leaving him behind.”

She says nothing.

She stared at you with something you didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t cold, or shallow. Her gaze monitored a retrospection of something lost. Behind a liquid glass. You couldn’t tell if she saw you in a mirror or a window.

It’s blunted and ceased after a few moments. She kisses the top of your head.

“Olo’eyktan waits for you. Go on.”

You nod at her, deciding to take that as your signal to depart.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

When you arrived at the meeting spot, the first thing you see is your clans most renounced warriors in a circle with the exception of a few hunters and Lo’ak. He wasn’t quite as skilled as Neteyam when it came to certain skills, but was a warrior all the same.

You find a spot next to Lo’ak, nodding respectfully at the other na’vi easily recognizable that stood across from you.

Kyuna’s father, Makeyo and his father, Ka’ani, Lo’ak’s current teacher, and the man who took your fathers and place in teaching the young hunters undergoing iknimiya, and a handful others.

The dreamwalkers couldn’t be seen in the gathering, you assumed they retired back to their reserved part of the stronghold.

You turned to Lo’ak, who was fidgeting with his bracelet, the one you, him and spider shared.

“What is this about?”

You whispered.

Lo’ak shrugged, glancing at you, the two usual braids that framed the sides of his head falling in his face.

“Maybe we’re all gonna hold hands in a circle and dance about love and peace.”

He hummed, his face blank.

Your tail thwacked the back of his head.

“The sarcasm is not appreciated.”

You rolled your eyes.

He scoffed.

“I learned it from you.”

You felt something brush your side, you and Lo’ak both turn to see Neteyam take a spot next to you.

“Bro, where have you been? Being late for you is like-

Once in a lifetime.”

He nods, standing next to you.

“Had to make sure the ikran were tended to with a few others.”

He placed a hand on the small of your back, his gaze forged of soft honored gold, and deep skies.

“I fed Kailo and made sure he was tended to. He’s just fine.”

You mentally slap the shit out of yourself when you remember rushing to get spider to the lab so fast you dismounted Kailo without even noticing your companions weariness from the excitement.

“Shit- I completely forgot- fuck.”

You drag your palms down your face.

“It’s okay. He was fine. Still feisty as usual.”

The chuckle in his throat reverberated against the deep accent of his voice.

You felt yourself heat on the back of your neck.

“Thank you, Neteyam.”

He nodded, gently letting his hand fall back to his side.

“Yeah yeah, so kind of you-

Bro do you know what we’re even here for?”

Lo’ak not-so-subtly shoved himself between you and Neteyam pensively, unbothered by his clear dislike of your close proximity.

Lo’ak never loved the idea of you and neteyam being together. Not when you two were courting, and not now. Always pensive of you and Neteyam hanging out for too long, even doing together something as harmless as helping Mo’at back to her feet after a nap.

You always thought it was jealousy. Not the romantic type. The clan always told you that you and Lo’ak would make a beautiful match. But the thought felt like wearing clothes too big for you. Detached, displaced sense of stability. You loved Lo’ak. More than anything, you really did. But it wasn’t romantic. And Lo’ak clearly didn’t see you as wife material. 

That’s fine. He wouldn’t make a great wife either to be honest.

It confused you sometimes. Lo’ak often showed Neteyam off to you, praising him. You wondered if it was sarcasm, or just respecting his brother enough to not embarrass him, but not wanting you two to court again either.

It was a mess for another moment.

Neteyam shrugged, shaking his head.

“Probably just a debriefing. The hunt was…unexpected to say the least.”

You nodded, locking gazes with Lo’ak for a moment as you both had a silent conversation.

It wasn’t long before Jake arrived, the first thing he did was check on the three of you. Mo’at followed behind him, making her way straight for the center ahead the gathering. It wasn’t uncommon for Tsahik to be present and meetings like this.

“You kids alright?”

Placing a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder, checking your hand and patting Neteyam’s back.

“We’re fine, sir. Just a few scratches.”

Neteyam affirmed, shifting on his feet slightly.

Jake sighed in relief, hugging both his sons, before dragging you into the hug.

“I’m proud of you boys. Did nice riding out there, Lo’ak. And your shot was right on line, Neteyam.”

Lo’ak didn’t show it, but you could tell he was smiling. He kept his gaze down, peering at the ground.

Neteyam nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as well. You found it cute that both Neteyam and Lo’ak, even at ages 19 and 18, were still excited about getting a compliment from the great Toruk Makto. Their father.

The two of them talked for a moment, you found your gaze drifting to Makeyo and his father. They were speaking in the crowd. Makeyo looked anxious. Almost tensed as his father kept a hand on his back, ranting in a whisper.

Jake lead the three of you to the front of the gathering, straying  from the crowd a bit. “Boys, do me a favor and go make sure we have everyone?”

Lo’ak and neteyam nodded, both jogging off to weave through the crowd and count heads of all the warriors they recognized.

As Neteyam and Lo’ak walked ahead, Jake placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you what you think spider called ‘a thumbs up’

“Nice shooting, sweetheart.”

He smiled proudly, sitting down next to you on one of the crevices.

You tried to conceal a smile of your own; your attempt pathetic as you smiled up at him like a child bringing home a freshly caught fish.

“Thank you.”

He ruffled your hair.

“Two for two shot-

Eywa, you never fail amaze me. What was it you and Neteyam did, the uhm, the two arrows in one-?”

“And one in the other. Something I’ve practiced with Lo’ak.”

You explained, smiling as he laughed.

“Genius. Absolutely.”

You two sat like that for a moment before neteaym and Lo’ak returned.

“Father, we are ready.”

Neteyam informed. Jake nodded, stretching as he stood to his feet.

Mo’at gently touched your back as she stood next to you.

Jake held a hand up, signaling the clan to be still and quiet.

“Thank you, my people for gathering. I’ll try to make this one quick.”

Jake’s lack of informality never seemed to not make you chuckle a bit.

“I have decided to make arrangements for the trainees in the war parties.”

He turned to the group that stood behind Makeyo and his father.

“It has come to my attention that some of you have clearly been ranked beneath your current abilities. And need more open field training.”

Open field training?

It was something you had back when you were 15. A few months after your parents passed. Jake started teaching you human tatical skills. How to use a gun, far distance targets, how to read radios and signals on old ships and navigate the screen charts on the controls. You so heavily insisted on having a position fighting the sky people. You worked, and you trained, until you became the most skilled warrior on your group. Even passing Neteyam and Lo’ak in your group.

Jake appointed you to his side. And you still at the realization that the moment he appointed you, it started with a meeting just like this.

Uncertainty shaved the hopeful soul that coated your bones. 

Jake continued.

“I have decided that the upper rank trainees will start with new practices. They will now be lead by Ka’ani. Awkey, you will lead the years younger.”

So it wasn’t what you thought. Your position remained, it seemed.

The sudden switch of teachers was a bit odd, nonetheless. 

Jake finished his speech minutes later. It was a short overview of new tactics the warriors would be learning. New places for target practice, and unfamiliar routines.

You didn’t mind the new schedules. It seemed like less of your day would be consumed in strategy sessions.

When he finished, the crowd started to disperse. Lo’ak went to speak with Awkey, leaving you with Jake, Mo’at, and Neteyam.

Makeyo and his father remained in their spots; as if waiting for a further instruction.

Makeyo’s father, Va’ru, was ambitious to a point it was farther than frightening. Constantly trying to put his son in first place. Like a cloud formulating a storm that swirled seated under restless skin.

Neteyam stepped forward, his tail flicked slightly.

“Dad, if Lo'ak's group will be with Awkey, does that mean I will be undergoing Ka’ani’s training?”

Jake shifts for a moment, as if trying to place his words in the right order.

“Yes and no. I have a different plan for you.”

Neteyam’s eyes widened only slightly, his tail flicking.

“Sir?”

He tilted his head.

Jake’s tone was clinging to remain inconcous as he saw Makeyo’s father approach.

“Olo’eyktan. I assume this is about the private lessons for Makeyo?”

Private lessons? Makeyo was going to take private lessons with Jake?

Makeyo seemed reluctant to engage in whatever was about to happen, gently tugging on his fathers arm.

“Father. Please. There was no certainty it would be me.”

His pleading falls deaf on his fathers ears.

“Va’ru. There has been a change.”

Jake speaks slowly, as if not to wake a sleeping thanator.

Va’ru is still for a moment.  

Neteaym steps forward, gently past his grandmother.

“What are we speaking of?”

He inquires, his own ounce of impatience slipping past his mask ever so subtly.

Jake sighs, rubbing his temple.

“This is not how things were supposed to go.

Over the last few weeks, I have been individually monitoring the warriors in your group to consider them for private lessons. Since Y/n is my most prominent warrior, she would be teaching the one I chose. My choice was Makeyo.”

Makeyo’s ears flicker upwards, and his father straightens, a smile forming on his face. It wasn’t genuine or even greatful. It was hungry, frenzied with torrid energy.

“Olo’eyktan. I would be honored to have Makeyo be taught under your most trusted archer.”

You felt your expression sour. Clearly uncomfortable with the energy that radiates off Va’ru.

Jake shakes his head.

“I have had a change of mind. As of a few days ago I have decided to give the role to Neteyam.”

This feels mosaic the moment you register his words. The figures around you now made of oddly shaped colors and sizes of glass. All the wrong shades.

You feel your fingers twitch and your mind go adrift. A blanket ablaze blanks your mind to a faceless slate. 

Alone. With Neteyam. 

The words swirl around like a whirlpool. A windless storm without the familiarity of chaos to stabilize the seas.

You try to place yourself in the vision but you can’t. You can’t seem to inhabit the precipice of this reality.

Your shaken away from the void of your thoughts as Jake places a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n. You will train Neteyam. Teach him the things I have taught you and your own ways. He will learn a lot from you. We’ll have another archer in our skies. More air combat support.”

You force yourself to nod and swallow, neteyam still seemingly frozen at the news.

Va’ru is clearly not pleased. 

“Olo’eyktan. With all due respect-“

The funny thing is, there’s not an ounce of respect in his tone. Its ironically edged, as if Jake’s decision is the height of audacity.

“Makeyo has been training. He’s familiarized himself with Y/n’s methods. He studies her.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed when Neteyam’s ears pin down, his gaze narrowing as the words ‘study her’ reach his ears.

You can’t blame him. It does sound fucked up.

Va’ru digs himself in a deeper hole this time.

“He trains the younger children with her. He spends most of his days with her. He’s dedicated his time, his-“

Jake cuts him off, his voice a bit sterner this time, and you can tell his patience is slipping away.

“It’s not about time. It’s about skill. Makeyo is a very talented warrior. There’s no doubt. He’s a strong archer. But neteyam has shown promise over these last few weeks. He’s worked to improve his knowledge on the air strike patterns of the RDA. Hes flown with me to scout the perimeters of hell’s gate. He’s ready to advance to start training with newer methods.”

Va’ru scoffs, taking a step back, your tail flicks.

“You throw your son in the highest place again and again. You choose to ignore the others potential.”

Jake wasn’t one for favoritism when it came to the honest work of his warriors. To suggest otherwise was offensive. 

Honor was valued among the na’vi. It was wrong to accuse him of just always picking neteyam. If anything, this was Neteyam’s chance. He had worked so hard to be seen by his dad. You knew this.

Jake took a breath to steady his urge to let this guy steal the last shred of tolerance he has left.

“Va’ru. Not infront of the others. We can speak privately-“

Va’ru’s tone was biting now.

“You cannot keep doing this. And your son can’t keep ‘running to daddy’ when he falls behind my son and can’t admit it.”

Something surged through the hungered veins under your skin. The fire never stayed absent for very long. Purging itself to cultivate on unsettled gilded flesh.

A hiss left you. The ardent prolonged end notes of something almost inhibited by a growl. A fervid, feverish vehemence whisped behind.

Va’ru’s eyes widened a bit, his prior confidence subduing under a sheet of hesitance.

Jake pushed you back a bit, a warning glare tossed towards your squirming figure to step forward once again.

“We can speak privately. But I will not allow you to insult the hard work of my son. Or question the expertise of Y/n.”

Va’ru and Jake agreed to talk privately, but you predicted just more arguing.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

Seeking solitude in the hidden caves of the mountainous cave of high camp, you settled with your anxiousness with one of the corridors above the first columns.

You paced back in fourth, cursing to yourself and throwing sharp stones at the wall.

You weren’t ready. You just weren’t ready.  The moment Jake and Va’ru left you ran for the farthest place you could find. You couldn’t bare to look at Neteyam.

Jake’s words from earlier pierce the surfaces of unsteady standing ground in your heart.

Love isn’t easy

Love isn’t easy

Love isn’t easy

You know what else isn’t easy? Having to spend all day with the man you used to dream about kissing. Loving. Hugging. Mating with.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your pulse quickens.

You remember that day. You remember the day though you waited for him under the rain. 

Under a lapis hued nightfall you were ready to give him your heart. Raw and bruised and blemished and every curve and dip and imperfection yearned for his touch.

But you fell in love with the sun. And you were undeserving of sunlight.

A boy made of flaxen fanned regrets and flamed forged promises.

You loved him. You didn’t love him for the son made of stone. Through the shifting shadows and vibrant visions of excellence engraved in ecstasy that echoed through disassembled pieces of manic daydreams.

You loved him. Tormented yourself with distance and fervent optimism. Idealisms too far to be attained.

This forbidden collision of the sun and the moon. 

And you waited. Damn yourself yet you waited. 

You waited for an explanation for his departure. A reason for this distance.

Weeping under a wild sky, disgusted with your own reflection. The sight of yourself just a poor effort of what you could have given him.

And then your family went somewhere you cannot follow, and suddenly he seeks remorse.

It’s unfair. It is so fucking unfair the nights you spent crying over the loss of his warmth. The sunlight felt cold. The warmth wind felt unfamiliar. 

And then you found the moonlight. The contingent comfort of dimmed sapphire hues and vengeance.

You refused to cry. You refused to be weakened. Your mother had seen fire and survived it. You had seen fire and burned with it-

And burn you will. Burn under the Sirius secrets whispered under the raptured intimacy of independence and its sweetening bindings.

So be it. So burn. bloodshed forging bones into bludgeons of tattered tears trains and scarred screams, soulless sleep.

Forgiveness surrounds itself in fractions of frustrations. 

You damned the sky starless because all the stars had fallen with your tears waiting for him. Waiting for the voices in your head to surrender and ricochet to the shallow corners of the planes traced lines on your palm.

You recount. Roll back and fast-forwards through every memory no longer remembered under glistening sunlight poured into liquid glass, and the hues of his golden eyes.

He was daylight. He wore a halo of Helios and draped warm flesh over sun-stained soulful essence to challenge the sea and the sky. A faint heartbeat under adrift moments scattered to a tethered wind. 

A man, a mask, and it’s burdens and bodies and sun-dried bones. He was a symphony and you, a mere half note of lost virtues.

Why must you constantly be at war with yourself? Why do you do this to yourself?

Do you hate him? 

Do you love him?

Do you want him?

You were nightfall.

Cascades of constellations and curls of lavender. A restless shade of reddened sunset, undertoned swirling and swept to hues of purple, orange, blue, a fiery sunset. Moonlight worn like a veil, tear-stained lips and blood stained hips and yet, oh how beautiful you were. Dark and delicately dressed in grief.

Sensationalize these bittersweet story endings and happily never after forever, then maybe some more.

To restrain this punishment, this internal unredeemable consciousness. 

Someone is behind you. Coming slowly into your peripheral view. 

You move quickly, drawing the knife on your hip and flipping it into your uninjured hand, steadying at the perpetrators throat.

“Shit! Easy, easy…”

Neteyam holds his hands up in defense, his eyes wide at your sudden movements.

“Y/n. It’s just me.” He cautiously lowers the knife in your hand.

Great. The man of the hour.

Oh eywa must have you fucked up if she thinks you’re dealing with this right now.

“Get out.” 

You didn’t mean to sound so punitive, but you were pissed, confused, and on the verge of tears. That was never a very delightful combo.

Neteyam shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Neteyam I’m not going to tell you again. Get out. Please.”

Your voice cracked this time as you took a step forward. 

“Y/n please.” He begged. 

“Get out! Go! Leave! Fuera!”

You used every word you knew. Including another earth language spider had been teaching you. ‘Spanish’ is what he called it.

He winced, but only for a moment.

“I can’t. Because if I leave id just carry myself right back here.”

It satisfied you but it did nothing to console the ache in your heart.

“Then what do you want?”

You whispered.

“Another chance.”

Fuck.

You took a step away, running your palms down your face. Neteyam ignored the gesture, walking after you.

“It’s been years, y/n. I’ve dug my own grave and I’ve lied in it. I can’t eat or sleep properly anymore because it fucking eats me alive.”

Neteyam Sully was never one to curse. That was more of lo’aks calling card. So it stunned you slightly when he spoke in such a way.

You turned to face him. His golden hour eyes locking with yours.

“I don’t ask for your forgiveness. I only ask for you to hear me out.”

He took a breath.

“From the moment I was born, every single moment of my life feels like it’s been calculated. Staged, rehearsed, nothing was ever out of place. Everything was a plan- a strategy. I’m not asking for your pity but all I ask is that you understand. That life is all I’ve ever known, Y/n.

And then I fell in love with you. And you were just-“

He paces around as he walks. Talking with his hands, making grand gestures to try and articulate some spontaneous thought without really knowing what he was saying at all.

For every moment in his life being staged and prepared, this sure as hell didn’t seem rehearsed.

Maybe the sun-stained son made of stone broke like glass after all.

He continues stumbling over his words. It was rather unlike him. To be this outspoken and unequivocal with his words.

“You we’re just, Eywa I don’t know how to begin.

You were wild and unpredictable, so unbothered and reckless and passionate. You still are. You make the most dangerous shit I’ve ever seen in my life seem so graceful and beautiful. You care for my siblings, Tuk wants to quite literally ‘be y/n’ when she grows up and Lo’ak and Kiri would probably plot a mass murder if you asked them too. My mother and my father love you like one of their own. I don’t want what used to be between us ruin any of that. I’m tired of it, y/n. I’m tired of all the awkward formalities and hating eachother. And I’ll be damned if I’ve ever met a woman in my entire life who knows a bow and arrow like you do.”

You’re stunned. Everything he says sinks under your skin for a moment.

He takes a breath.

“Y/n. Please. Give me another chance. To be friends again. I miss you. I really do. You're going to be my teacher now. We shouldn’t be-“

“Just shut up for a minute.”

A small ‘yes ma’am.’ Leaves his lips as his gaze darts down a bit.

Now, if someone told you about 30 minutes from now you would be hugging neteyam sully, you probably would have called them crazy.

But now, as eywa as your witness, that’s exactly what you did.

He was still for a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you back.

You took a step back, smiling at him softly.

“Our first lesson starts as soon as my hand is healed. Don’t be late.”

And with that, you left.

Neteyam stood there for a moment before jumping up, fisting the air, a celebratory ‘fuck yes!’ Leaving his lips silently.

Maybe things made of stone can break like glass after all.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

Parallels:

Biggest parallel: the “hell yeah!” Line between neteyam and y/n is parallel to this scene between Jake and Neytiri.

Spider and Y/n - Tommy and Jake (two siblings, two sides of the same coin)

Y/n and Neytiri - (learning to love even through grief)

Y/n and Jake - (’soldier mentality’ and low self image because of trauma)

Lo’ak, Y/n and Neytiri - (rebelliousness) 

Spider and Neteyam- (oldest sibling responsibility)

Authors note:

I’m alive! I survived probably the longest chapter in this fic. I think I owe all my virago readers an apology. This chapter is WAY overdue. I'm sorry about that one, y'all.

But we're finally out of the enemy stage! And now I get to enjoy writing fluffy moments between neteyam and y/n, aka our resident virago and sun son made of stone.

So I just want to clear some things up before I wrap this up.

In my story, spider is a Spanish speaker. I read the original script and saw that he does speak Spanish in one of the scenes, and as a Spanish speaker and a spider stan that just warms my heart. Yes, a na’vi speaking Spanish might sound kinda cringe but it's my personal headcanon that spider would definitely teach y/n Spanish. 

Btw I just finished watching the hunger games so if anyone can catch all the Haymitch and Katniss references between y/n and Jake I will literally kiss you.

Remember to pleas like, comment, reblog, and as a request from me, please comment your favorite quote. trope, dynamic, or moment in this chapter or even the story so far.

Taglist

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange @thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

@0stargirl0

@heavenlysstuff

@dayyzlol

@iheartamajiki

[preciousannie]

Ateez Scenarios - Mafia! When they find out you’re an enemy

Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Mafia AU!

Content Warning: Gagging, Intoxication

☾⋆｡° ✮☾⋆｡° ✮☾⋆｡° ✮☾⋆｡° ✮☾⋆｡° ✮☾⋆｡° ✮☾

Kim Hongjoong

“I thought I could trust you.” 

Your head turns swiftly towards the direction of his voice, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. 

You instantly dropped the documents you had in hand out of reflex. 

“H-Hongjoong..! It’s not what it seems-”

“I think I’ve seen enough to understand love. Isn’t this your nightly routine?”

His face grew darker 

“I-I can explain I swear! I’ve cut ties with them-”

The sound of a button being pressed cuts your words short.

Your eyes slowly shift downwards towards your lover’s hand to see him holding a remote.

“You can’t do this Hongjoong ah”

Your eyes soon land on your boyfriend’s face which makes you shiver.

His eyes no longer hold any emotions.

No sympathy, sadness, or affection towards you anymore.

Just like when you first met him.    

“Yes, I can.”

“I’m captain for a reason”

He turns on his heels towards the huge wooden doors with lights illuminating his figure making it only visible as a silhouette.

The last thing you saw was his side profile when he stopped by the door.

“See you in hell, my love.”

Park Seonghwa

“She’s here boss.”

Seonghwa relaxes in his chair after receiving the news from his advisor.

You soon come into his view, thrown to the ground on your knees, tied up by the wrists and ankles.

You then lift your head up to see your boyfriend leaning his head against his fist with a stern face.

His face was cold.

His eyes not leaving yours for a mere second.

You tried to look at him with hatred but your heart betrays you

How did it turn out like this?

You were never meant to fall for him.

Is this karma?

“Get on with your plans, Mr Park. I’m sick of waiting.”

You said while turning your head to the side after, incapable of withstanding another second of him staring straight into your soul.

He hummed amusingly, though his actions told a different story considering his hand balled into fists.

“Be patient, babe. I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

You bit your bottom lip at his endearing pet name.

Though it hurts to deny it, you know you fell for him hard.

You fought back choked up tears.

He got up from his seat, striding towards you.

You soon felt large hands grabbing your jaw and turning your face forward.

Your head was then slightly lifted up meeting his crescent-shaped eyes.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Mrs Park.”

Jeong Yunho

It was not the spectacle of gang members present at the site that instantly caught your eye as you arrived at your supposed meeting spot.

It was his bone-chilling stare that pierced your heart and froze you.

“Well well, you surely didn’t disappoint me here my dear.”

A tint of cockiness and sarcasm slipped through his mouth when he said those words with slightly gritted teeth.

You finally looked around realizing all the other gang members you’ve betrayed were on motorcycles.

Their faces are plastered with frowns, grimaces, and looks of disappointment toward you.

Another shot strikes your heart, feeling ashamed of yourself.

“Well then, do you plan to speak up my love? or do you prefer to use violence hm?”

It felt like a lump was caught in your throat making you unable to speak.

The feeling of guilt was strong, but you shouldn’t have even come to this point.

“I’m sorry”, is what you want to say but you are aware it makes no difference in Yunho’s eyes that was filled with pain.

It was not long before the thundering footsteps were heard,

Assuming it belonged to members of the organization you work for was closing in behind you,

Indicating backup has arrived as planned.

As you look up into Yunho’s eyes now with your very own filled with deterring solidity, 

He inevitably scoffed and chuckled tilting his head down, understanding that both of you were well aware of each other’s plans all along.

“Alright then, let’s tango. It’s you or me, baby.”

Kang Yeosang

“I’m sorry. I regret all that I’ve done. I should’ve come clean to you earlier.”

As soon as those words fell on his ears, he slowly turned to look at you.

His attention is now drafted and solely placed on you.

His gaze seemingly inquiring for you to elaborate more.

But why does it look like he wasn’t surprised?

Or was it just in your nerve-stricken racing mind right now?

“I’ve come to realize that I had fallen for you, Yeosang. I can’t go on with stabbing you behind your back and hope to maintain my sanity.”

He didn’t utter a word as you ramble on and he listened.

Your anxiety was shooting through the roof as more and more confessions to your wrongdoings spilled through your mouth as a form of coping with the intensity of your emotions.

As you were done, you stood there staring at him as silence surrounded the both of you.

He then calmly placed his hands behind his back and took composed, slow steps towards you.

You gulp on what feels like a lump of saliva to try to soothe your dry throat.

As he closed the distance between you two, he then lifted his hand to your chin.

Tilting your head up to face him as his face shortens the distance between your lips and his.

“Finally.”

Choi san

“Was it you all along?” 

You turn to look at him startled and confused as you were both just enjoying some time alone indulging in good music and wine.

You thought he was just intoxicated and spouting nonsense, trying to reason with your guilty self that it was just that.

It must be, right?

“What are you talking about San? Are you drunk?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Am I drunk?”

He abruptly closed in the distance between the two of you causing you to lean back and fall against your back to the soft landing of the couch you both shared.

His hand supported himself above you with both of them side by side trapping you in place.

“It could’ve only been you, babe. I’ve been thinking about it.”

Your flustered self tried to calm your racing heart whether it was nervousness due to fear of being exposed, intoxication,

or mere attraction to the man in front of you.

Who knows? It could be everything in between.

But the only words that you could form at that moment were

“I wish it wasn’t me, truly.”

Song Mingi

You entered the familiar office, expecting to deliver your report as usual to him.

But instead, you were met with a tense atmosphere and a domineering aura exuded from Mingi.

Trying to play it off, you still walked into the room clutching the file of reports against your chest.

Your body language betrayed you as you tried to maintain a calm and indifferent composure.

“I’m here to report on our current finance statistics, sir.”

You said as you eyed the other bodyguards surrounding him expecting them to be ordered to leave as usual but they stood still as Mingi didn’t respond either.

You then gave him a look of confusion as your head slightly tilted, waiting for a response.

“Leave it here, you may go.”

A surge of hesitance filled your body as you felt extremely nervous that something was wrong.

“A-Are you sure sir? There’s some things I need to-”

You jolted as the sound of a loud impact against his desk rang through your ears.

“Leave while you can sweetheart. Consider this my last act of mercy for you.”

He then gestured dismissively with one hand raised towards the door behind you before leaning back in his chair.

Eyes cold, piercing through your very own, striking your guilty soul.

Jung Wooyoung

The thump of your knees landing on the ground filled the room as the bodyguards on each side of you pushed you down by your shoulders.

You were placed directly in front of the man you loved and now, betrayed for the past 6 months.

Your eyes looked up to meet his nonchalant ones.

He knew every move you had in mind and played you instead.

His stance filled with amusement and unbothered composure made you slightly hurt.

Does he not care?

Was I the one who has been a fool this entire time?

Silence would be deafening if it weren’t for your muffled sounds of defiance.

Your body shook vigorously as you tried to indicate the want for release from the ropes that bound your hands and legs.

He finally signaled his bodyguard with a flick of his head upward, still maintaining his composure of unbotheredness.

The bodyguard then nods and proceeds to remove the gag from your mouth after what feels like forever.

You took deep breaths before speaking,

“You don’t wanna do this, Wooyoung. You’ll regret it.”

All you got in response was a simple hm and a casual shrug that boiled your anger further.

Even if you knew that he could be unfeeling and could easily move on as if you never existed,

Your heart secretly hopes it was otherwise.

As he signaled with his hand to dispose of you, he casually leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms and legs.

“You’ll pay this Wooyoung! I’ll make sure of it! Do you hear m-!”

As you were again gagged and dragged by the two bodyguards, all that was in your wobbling view as you were struggling was his smirk in the same stance mouthing the words,

“I’ll be waiting, darling.” 

Choi Jongho

The two of your bodies were entangled in a graceful dance.

Hand in hand, swaying to the classical music booming across the ballroom.

You would’ve wished for this moment to last forever but you knew what you had to do here.

As your hand gently caresses his body, a digital tracker is attached seamlessly to his suit.

The symphony of dance between the two of you continued before he slid his arm skillfully behind your back,

pulled you in closer to him by the waist,

as he whispered in your ear

“Nice try honey, I thought you’d be better than this.”

As your bodies separate and you meet his raged-filled disappointing eyes, you know you messed up bad.

You took multiple slow steps backward as everything fell silent and your vision tunneled.

You knew you shouldn't have chosen this route even if you were pressured to.

But there’s no going back.

His face was filled with anger as he was expecting you to do otherwise.

He then looked you dead in the eye holding eye contact as his hand lifted to remove the tracker placed on his suit,

Then, he dropped it to the ground before he mercilessly stomped on the device, twisting his foot against the ground left and right

Attracting attention from everyone in the ballroom.

Before he slowly turned his back towards you and walked away as bodyguards in suits approached your vision from either side of you.

“Goodbye, darling.”

Author’s note: Another one of my years-long draft that needed clearing hahah. It may not be perfect, I had trouble adjusting it to my writing style now and making sure every member’s personality fit along with creating interesting scenarios for each of them but I tried. As always, hope you enjoy and have a great day or night wherever you are <33

[dovesdreaming]

Echoes in the void

Summary: you allow Cassandra nova to look into your memories of Charles in the hopes she learns something.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The Void stretched endlessly, an infinite expanse of nothingness that could drive most to madness. Yet here, in this unending emptiness, a strange meeting was taking place. The air crackled with energy, as if the Void itself was holding its breath, waiting for what was to come. You stood at the center of this nowhere, feeling an odd calm. You had been here before many times. Cassandra nova had requested you specifically. The mere thought of her made most mutants shiver, a nightmare made flesh, a shadow of Professor Charles Xavier’s darker side. Yet, here she was, hovering just before you, a spectral presence that felt like it could dissolve at any moment, though you knew she wouldn’t.

Cassandra's gaze was sharp, penetrating, like she could see through to the deepest parts of your soul without even trying. Her lips curled into a faint smile, more curious than menacing, but with her, you could never be certain. The memories of Charles had told you all you needed to know about her capabilities. “You’re an interesting one” Cassandra said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to echo in the vastness. “Allowing me into your mind, knowing what I am… and yet, you set conditions. Fascinating”. You crossed your arms, meeting her gaze without flinching. “You want to see what Charles sees in me, and in return, I want your word that you won’t try anything. No digging where you’re not invited, no twisting memories to suit your fancy. Just… look, and behave”. Cassandra tilted her head slightly, considering. “You think I can be trusted?” There was no malice in her question, just genuine curiosity.

“I think you’re capable of understanding the value of trust” you replied evenly. “Charles might have been naive about you in the past, but I’m not. I know what you’re capable of, but I also know you’re smart enough to know the benefits of playing nice, at least for now”. The Void seemed to ripple around you, as if the very fabric of this place reacted to the tension between you both. But then, Cassandra’s smile softened, the dangerous edge fading slightly. “Very well” she agreed, surprisingly gentle. “I’ll behave”.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Alright, then. Let’s get this over with”. Closing your eyes, you opened your mind to her, letting the barriers you’d placed fall away, one by one. There was a moment of cold, an icy prickle at the back of your neck as she slipped into your thoughts, but it was followed by warmth, a gentle touch that surprised you. Cassandra was being careful, more careful than you expected. Images flashed through your mind, moments of your life with Charles. The laughter, the long conversations about hopes and dreams, the quiet moments of reflection. She saw the trust you had in him, the way he had shaped your worldview, not as a leader or a teacher, but as a friend. You could feel her sifting through these memories, analyzing them, but there was no malice, no attempt to alter anything. She was true to her word.

For a moment, you felt her hesitation, a flicker of something almost like… envy? But it was quickly buried under layers of cold logic. She moved on, delving deeper, yet still restrained. You weren’t sure how long the process took, time had no meaning in the Void, but eventually, you felt Cassandra begin to withdraw, the coldness receding as she slowly pulled away. You opened your eyes to find her standing before you, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You care for him a great deal,” she remarked, her tone neutral, almost contemplative. “More than he perhaps deserves”. You didn’t argue, just nodded. “He’s my friend”.

Cassandra was silent for a moment, her gaze distant. “I see now why he values you… why he trusts you so implicitly. There’s strength in that trust, something I hadn’t fully understood until now”. You studied her carefully, trying to gauge the sincerity in her words. “And you? What do you see?”. She looked at you, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of something almost human in her eyes. “I see potential… and perhaps, a reason to reconsider some of my more destructive tendencies”. There was a pause, a weighty silence that hung between you, before Cassandra gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Thank you, for showing me this. I will keep my word. You have nothing to fear from me… for now”.

With that, she began to retreat back into her lair. You watched as she disappeared from sight, not knowing when or if you will next see her but holding a small amount of hope that you will. Hoping she will need your help again sometime in the future soon. You had faced Cassandra Nova and emerged unscathed. More than that, you had glimpsed a side of her few had ever seen, and lived to tell the tale. And perhaps, just perhaps, you had planted a seed of something in her a seed of trust, of understanding, that might one day bear fruit.

But for now, you would leave her lair, knowing that for once, the darkness had not won.

[aribirdie]

Unironically thinking about how Adventure Time might be the best show ever.

Like how philosophy about just living life and how growing up is a part of it has always had me coming back to it. And I really think it shows how mature and intelligent this show was to have the reboots visit familiar characters while progressing the arc of new ones. Fiona and Cake *arent* Finn and Jake. And they never will be.

But it gives the show a chance to make a new fun dynamic, and to appreciate that Finn and Jake’s arc (reincarnating together) is complete. It’s satisfying.

I also love how Jake continues to be easy going and somewhat spiritually open to just being a part of the universe throughout the series, he has said some lines throughout the show that are absolute bangers.

“As long as I know the shape of my soul, I’ll be alright.”

And with that this show has always given me such an appreciation for living. For everything that will happen, is happening, and happened.

[densi-mber]

A/N: Here we have one of my least favorite storylines for now it was handled, but one of my favorite to write about for this very reason.

***

The Wrong Kind of Help

“C’mon, Deeks! Give me one more! Dig deep.”

Deeks glared up at the instructor, sweat dripping off his nose, his breath rushing in and out in short, loud bursts.

“You said that twenty minutes ago, sir,” he pointed out, snarkier than he would normally risk.

“Yeah, and you’re still standing,” Instructor Hardy said, remaining Deeks vaguely of Sam when he got in SEAL mode. He pointed to Deeks and then to the ground. “So, get to it.”

The physical training instructors rode everyone hard, but often it seemed they singled him out for extra reps or to spar against the largest and most fit opponent. At first, he’d thought it was intended to showcase his shortcomings and age. Now, he didn’t know what to think.

The torture continued for another ten minutes when Hardy blew his whistle and waved his hand at Deeks midway through a push-up. “Alright, that’s enough. I don’t want you to actually die on me.”

“That’s—comforting, sir,” Deeks gasped out.

“You’re hilarious, kid. Have some water and hit the showers.”

Getting to his feet, Deeks accepted the bottle of water Hardy offered him and grabbed his bag. Thank god he’d gotten in the best shape of his life before all this, but he’d still be aching tomorrow.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Hardy said, patting Deeks on the shoulder, and walking off, likely to inflict his brand of training on some other poor, unsuspecting soul.

Fortunately, the dorm was pretty empty when he got back. Jack and Charlie were in the common room though, and as soon as he walked in, they descended.

“Dude, what did you do to piss Hardy off?” Charlie wondered. “You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“Stop interrogating the man and get him some water,” Jake interceded, sighing in apparent disappointment at Charlie’s lack of regard. Normally, Deeks would find their antics amusing, but he didn’t have the energy, or breath for that.

Sitting down, Deeks put his head back, completely exhausted. He had another class in about an hour, but all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Here you go.”

Something cold nudged Deeks’ hand and he slowly opened his eyes to Jake standing over him with bottles of water and Gatorade. Deeks took the Gatorade, gratefully drinking a few sips.

“So, what happened?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Deeks sighed. “Maybe he’s hoping if he works me hard enough, I’ll quit.”

“If that’s what he’s going for, you definitely proved him wrong. I don’t think anyone else could have held up that long,” Charlie said encouragingly.

“It has been pointed out before that I can be stubborn.” Deeks smiled wryly.

“Marty Deeks stubborn? No way,” Jake drawled.

Chuckling, Deeks patted his shoulder as he stood up again. “Thanks, guys. I’m going to go shower and feel less like death.”

***

The shower did go a long way to reviving Deeks. In a fresh set of academy approved clothes, Deeks ran downstairs, intending to grab something from the cafeteria before his next class. On his way to back through the common room, he saw Hardy standing by the exit doors, arms crossed over his chest.

Deeks sighed internally, continuing towards him even though he wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction.

“Deeks, I was looking for you.”

“I’d love to chat, sir, but I have to get to ethics,” Deeks told him.

“This will only take a moment,” Hardy said. He scrutinized Deeks with narrowed eyes. “I bet you’re wondering why I had you run all those drills today. Why I keep using you for examples during group training.”

“The thought has occurred.”

Hardy nodded, his expression unreadable. “You’re a smart guy, Deeks. You’ve got more experience than anyone here who isn’t on staff and despite your age, you’re flying through every course with top marks so far.”

“I’m sure it’s a great disappointment for anyone thinking I’d fail,” Deeks said lightly.

“It’s damn impressive,” Hardy countered to Deeks’ surprise. “Oh don’t look like that. At this point, I think everyone wants to see you earn your agents badge. I’m trying to help you get there.”

“By running me to death?”

“No, by showing you and everyone else just what you’re capable of.” Hardy actually poked Deeks in the chest. “You gotta be better than good for NCIS to believe you’re a better candidate than one of these barely out of college 24 year olds. You need to stand out.”

Deeks could honestly say he’d never expected that. He was oddly touched Hardy seemed to care about him in his own way, even if he went about it completely the wrong way. He could see where he was coming from too. To an extent.

“With all due respect, I don’t think running me into the ground is the best way to achieve that result,” Deeks said, and Hardy smiled now

“I think I know what’s best for my students, and this is going to help get you the results you want.” Apparently satisfied with having said his piece, Hardy clapped Deeks on the back. “I’ll see your bright and early tomorrow morning.”

As he left, Deeks sighed, wishing he didn’t have such an infamous past hanging over his head.

[thegreatobsesso]

find the word

Tagged for my favorite game by @space-writes!!! This is good - I know I haven't been posting a lot lately. I don't know why, honestly. I think I have been way overthinking what is "postable," as it were. I'm gonna start posting more often without worrying about making the post an entire... thing.

ANYWAYS :D

family

gay bdsm crime story // Octavius POV

“Mr. Sinclair, what a pleasure!” “Octavius, please,” he says, returning the handshake and tactfully ignoring the way the man nearly toppled his chair to greet him. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to meet you sooner. You’ve been on the job, what, two weeks already?” Russell waves him off emphatically. “Don’t be absurd. There’s been a death in the, um.” “Family,” he supplies. “It’s quite alright to say as much. Families come in all different shapes and sizes, you know, and Eddie always considered me a member of his.” “He was a great man,” Russell nods.  Eddie was an asshole. “The greatest of men, God rest his soul. But I’m here to talk about you, Mister Harmon, and your bright future here at Bedford and Clarke. May we sit?”

dread

The Insuppressible Electra Ray // Grace POV

“Simon,” said a lady who appeared behind her, and Grace startled at the use of the headmaster’s first name. “All the MEAB paperwork’s done, but it took my team so long to fill out, they didn’t actually get to finish all the ward work.”  A beautiful black and white dog waited patiently at the lady’s side, wearing something that reminded Grace of a horse’s saddle. Service dog, the side of the thing said, do not pet. The lady’s belt jangled with keys - gold and bronze and silver ones, big and small, plain and ornate. She bore a thick folder in her arms and the headmaster eyed it with dread, devastated by the presence of the papers in the way only grown-ups could be. 

start

The Insuppressible Electra Ray // Simon POV

He resisted the urge to remove his tie, pull at his neckline. He was too hot. His head was starting to pound. They were saying she’d plead guilty, but they didn’t know.  A different door opened, this time in the back, and everybody twisted to see. Camera flashes fired and popped, and a hushed murmur trickled over the room. Two officers came through the door, stern-looking men in uniform, and in between them, Electra.  It was almost funny, how small she looked. They each held one of her arms, handcuffs glinting from her wrists, her heels clacking sharply against the marble. Her hair, still blazing red, hung straight down and shifted over her shoulders as she moved, just like he remembered it.  He used to sit on the couch with her, their knees bumping. One time she had soot on the side of her nose from a spell gone awry and he’d licked his thumb and wiped it off without even thinking twice. A weird thing to do but it hadn’t felt weird at the time. It had always been easy for some reason: to just reach out and touch her.  Now there was this: clinking cuffs and grim-faced guards with guns and the entire legal system and the weight of dead years in between them, and even though they’d walked her right past him, no one had ever been farther away. 

fast (x2)

gay bdsm crime story // Milo POV

“Chill out.” “I’ll do my best,” Octavius says lightly, making room for the salad bowl on their small table. “Perhaps I’d find it easier to relax if I wasn’t cohabiting with an insane person.” Meg is fast but Octavius is faster; he catches her wrist before her open hand reaches his face. The salad bowl wobbles to a theatrical stop. “First one’s free,” he says, the two of them frozen in place. “Raise a hand against me again and I’ll cut it off.” “Fine. Call me insane again and I’ll shit in your Oxfords.” “That’s enough,” Milo shouts, slamming his hands against the table for emphasis. “God. We’re not cutting off any limbs in this house or, or shitting in anyone’s shoes. Now sit your asses down, we’re gonna have a nice dinner.” Their glares turn sharply on him. He sets his jaw. “What? I’m not afraid of either one of you. I said, sit.”

Tagging @pertinax--loculos, @asher-writes, @winterandwords and @oh-no-another-idea with the words time, honor, peace and war :)