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qyxzun · 6 months

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🕸️┆𝕻𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

╰┈➤ ❝𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘𝐘𝐘𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, my name is Y/N L/N. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for about two years, I've been the one and only spider woman. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

Been fighting other bad guys, helping cats off trees, saving plains from crashing into buildings, you know—the basics.

I lost my best friends when I realized one of them was my nemesis.

but that didn't stop me from fighting for the better!

I just wish I wasn't alone. What if there was another universe where someone understood me?

whatever, probably just my imagination.❞

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝟗𝟐𝟔-𝐙, there was you, sleeping in bed so peacefully before your loud blaring alarm on your phone started to ring for the fifth time. You groaned when the sound disrupted your sleep before you finally picked up your phone to check what time it was. your eyes completely widened. You were late for school.

"Shit!" you cursed, pushing yourself off the bed and running to the bathroom to take the quickest bath you could. Taking off your clothes, dosing yourself with the shower's water, and quickly soaping up your entire body. As quickly as you entered, you almost tripped, going out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your soaked body. You ran back to your room, sloppily but quickly putting on your Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform. You still think that school is elitist, but you can't complain for now.

With no time to spare other than lacing up your shoes and taking your unzipped bag, you ran out of your dorm, forgetting to lock the door. You started to quickly jog your way to the school with your bag slung in front of you in an attempt to zip it closed with your papers and work securely inside. Traffic was booming like crazy, which made you groan impatiently. "My luck should really not be affecting my school," you grumbled.

The light finally turned red, letting pedestrians pass. You pushed past multiple people, apologizing when you ran through them as you continued to sprint to the school's entrance. When you finally stepped inside the school, you ran to your locker, put your bag and stuff away, and sprinted so fast to your class before the bell could ring. You arrived just in time, holding your textbooks by the door while a bead of sweat ran down your neck.

You panted, out of breath from running the entire morning, while your professor looked at you, unimpressed that you were late for how many times?

"Tardy again, Y/N. Keep up if you want to pass this year." She said, obviously hinting that you were someone who didn't care about education. Rude.

You nervously walked to your seat with your heavy books in hand while your classmates watched you sit down. Your professor passed by and gave you multiple papers stapled together as your exam. You skimmed through it, and the questions were almost a big blur for you when you saw how hard you should've studied instead of fighting other criminals on a daily basis. You held your mechanical pencil tight, wondering what to write while your other classmates were all silent and focused on the exams, unlike you, who had no idea. You wrote down what you knew, but you still felt anxious. You really didn't want to fail this exam; it could be your last before you would have to move to another school. You liked that option, but your parents worked too hard, climbing the ranks so you could have an easier life once you passed your exams. Since when was life decided by a piece of paper?

Minutes into the exam, suddenly, you heard a loud explosion near the back of your school. It was muffled through the thick walls, yet it was obvious something dangerous had happened. Your spider senses tingled, and you lifted your head abruptly while your class looked around, wondering what that could be while the teacher noticed their confused and worried expressions.

"Everyone calm down! Form a line and carefully leave the school through the front," your professor ordered, yet most students had already started running out of the classroom, ignoring her orders.

You quickly ran out too, pushing past the rest of the students while you navigated back to your locker. You grabbed your bag from inside and forgot to close it, prioritizing the situation at hand as you went to the bathroom.

"Guess I have to do my job again," you sighed while you quickly locked the toilet stall. You opened your bag, your spider suit folded neatly and tucked between your other textbooks inside. You took off your uniform, changing into the tight spider suit swiftly. You made sure to keep your mask securely on; protecting your identity was the most important part of it.

Finally dressed for battle and your bag slung on your back, you climbed out through the restroom's window, flicking multiple webs out of your fingertips. They swiftly stuck to one of the school's large pillars, and they allowed you to swing away quickly. You swung from building to building easily, reaching the back of the school to see seven vehicles crash together, causing a fire to spread throughout the school's background. Multiple police cars and ambulances were parked nearby, with the paramedics taking as many victims as they could on stretchers and transporting them to the ambulance crew.

You saw many policemen trying to save the injured under the rubble and from the fire as well. You knew they could get in the way of your job, so you created a diversion. You shot a web inside the policeman's car, the sticky string immediately reaching and pressing on the accelerator as it slowly moved forward, catching their attention.

"Woah—woah, woah—hey!!" one of them hollered, trying to reach the advancing car alongside his other colleagues. It gave you enough time to reach the exploded area with your webs.

"This is a whole mess," you mumbled to yourself under your mask as you reached another building's wall. You quickly climbed higher and swiftly shot individual webbing from your fingertips, each web reaching pieces of heavy debris on top of the injured. You held and wrapped all five webs around your palm, pulling the rubble off of the victims with your bare hand as your webs carried them to the side.

The concerned police officers ran to the injured with paramedics, yet the fire persisted, causing another explosion near the colliding cars. You were thinking of a plan to somehow save all of these people while you internally grew more anxious.

"What the hell is causing these explosions?" You grunted, frustrated. You loathed seeing people get injured while you tried to think of something. You jumped from the high wall, plunging down as you shot webs toward the heavily injured near the fire. You pulled them close, carrying more than three people while their blood smeared on your spider suit.

You quickly rested their bodies near where the ambulances could see them before you swung back to the high roof of the building. Your spider senses suddenly tingled before you turned around. On the building's edge, you saw the villain behind it all.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You said, looking down to the edge, and saw a lizard... or a goblin? You didn't know. You shot webs once more in its direction, propelling yourself up before you landed a harsh kick in its face. It let out a loud grunt as saliva was knocked out of his mouth. You sent him flying to another building's wall before he collapsed on the ground.

You walked over to it cautiously, a foot on his chest as you stepped on it harder. You glared down at him, looking down at a vile creature who hurt your people. It coughed, its vision blurry before it looked up to you, it started chuckling with your foot on his scales. "We meet again Peter," it said, smirking.

"Who the hell is Peter?" You retorted, raising an eyebrow behind your mask while it looked at you as if you were playing with his head.

"Oh, don't lie now, Peter... I know all about—" The vile lizard was about to continue, but it was cut off when it saw your features more clearly. You had more of a feminine body. Your muscles weren't as built, but you were strong enough to consider its enemy, like Peter. You had bigger hips and smaller shoulders than a man. Not to mention the obvious, your suit wasn't one it recognized. Its expression turned from smug to confused. You weren't the Peter it knew.

With rage blinding its confusion, it growled and grabbed your ankle with its large clawed hand, pulling your foot off its chest as it caused you to almost lose balance.

"Who are you?" It glared, looking at you with disdain and anger. You, on the other hand, were confused about why it didn't know you when you were literally the spider-woman.

"I'm spider-woman? The hero?" You rhetorically responded before it sneered and tossed you to the side of the building. You reacted quickly as you shot webs at its face, blinding it and pulling on the webs before you could hit the wall with its heavy weight. You adroitly landed on the floor again.

"Okay, dude—that's not nice," you pout under your mask while it growled in frustration when your webs blinded its field of vision. The creature almost tore off its eyes, in an attempt to take the sticky web off its face while it bled. The oversized lizard was raging mad before it charged toward you at full speed. You were about to swing burning wreckage to its face with your webs before a sudden brightness appeared from above.

You both looked up in confusion before you suddenly saw a red web hastily tie your green rival into scarlet webbing. It came out of what seemed to be a bright light formed with hexagons while it glitched. You haven't seen anything like it, thinking it could be another threat. "Argh!!!" The creature thundered before you saw what seemed to be another spider-man go through the portal. He promptly punched the lizard's head, blood coming out of its mouth, before it crashed into another building's wall.

The mysterious man stood up once he apprehended the green goblin with his webs. He tied it with his webs effortlessly while you approached him, his head slightly turning to look at you.

"So, like, who are you?" You asked, putting a hand on your hip before he turned around to fully face you.

"Classified," He spoke with a low tone, keeping it short and cold. You hummed, thinking of who he could be.

"You Peter? That green, uh, creature was looking after Peter or something. I don't know," you shrugged while the man was still silent, like he was judging you secretly with that glare.

You cleared your throat, a bit uncomfortable that he wasn't responding to your question. "Well, anyway, gotta deal with the fire and stuff. Gotta go blue panther." You were about to walk to the fire, mostly to save more victims before he stepped in front of you.

"It's alright, kid. I'll take it from here." He responded, his tone still cold, while his hand was slightly raised, telling you to stand down. Your spider senses tingled after he said that. You looked up behind him as you saw the green goblin manage to escape his webbing and cause more havoc behind the tall, muscular spider-man. In a fit of rage, the creature threw a burning truck in your direction.

"Oh, shit—look out!" You yelled, shooting a web at the spider-man's chest before pulling him away from the landing truck. You quickly moved away as well, but suddenly hissed in pain and fell near the fire. You groaned when you saw your burned forearm and noticed that your spider-suit was covered in cinders after smelling something burning.

"Puta madre--!" the spider-man growled before claws started to grow out of his hands. With animalistic ferocity, he chased after the goblin, shooting a web on his way to get to him faster. His speed never slowed down as his legs ran faster and faster, almost like a car on a highway.

Meanwhile, you winced when you pushed yourself up before your senses started to go haywire again. You turned around and saw more people in the burning debris while firefighters arrived and started to put out the flames. You hastily followed the spider-man from before by crawling up on top of a very tall building. Your eyes quickly scanned the area, searching for him. You spotted the lizard causing more trouble as it climbed up the building in front of you. His claws dug into the wall, causing more debris to fall, almost hitting more pedestrians. The other spider-man turned his head around, watching as the debris started to rain down on the citizens. He was so conflicted; he was so close to catching the goblin, yet the civilians were in danger.

"Fuck!" The man cursed, shooting a web to catch the debris, yet he failed. He grunted, turning his attention back to his target. He continued to chase the green goblin. You, on the other hand, thought fast and jumped down while shooting multiple webs to make a gigantic spider web to catch all the falling debris. Your webbing was strong enough to carry the heavy rubble and the burning damage before it could hit the others. Once you were sure it was holding everything in place, you shot another web, swinging yourself to the injured, who couldn't move. You picked them up— two on your back and one in your arms. They were barely alive when you gently laid them down somewhere more safe.

Your head lifted when you heard a cry. "M-Mama! Please! Help!!" A child screamed while you put all the victims away near the policemen. You turned your head back, realizing one of them was still stuck in the fire. You didn't hesitate to run back, propelling yourself into the air to see where the kid could be. You then saw her crawling up into a ball, a toy in her arms, while she looked around with tears in her eyes, afraid of the fire. She coughed profusely, almost running out of oxygen, while tears prickled her eyes. Even with the burnt forearm, you quickly and nimbly landed in front of her, picking her up easily while she didn't know what was happening. Yet she held onto you tighter than her toy. You shot another web at a building, pulling the two of you up before swinging away to where it was safe.

When you slowly descended to the ground with the child hugging your neck tightly, you saw a weeping woman on the ground with multiple injuries. Your eyes softened, worried behind your mask. You looked back at the kid, noticing she looked like she could be her child. You approached her. "Ma'am," you called out to her, getting her attention before you put down the kid in front of her. She gasped and brought her into her arms, pulling her into a very tight hug while they both wept.

"Thank you," the woman whimpered before looking up at your masked face. "Thank you for saving all of us." She smiled while sobbing, looking around at the people you saved. Even though they were injured, you managed to save all of them. You nodded your head, smiling behind your mask as you flashed her a thumbs-up.

You heard a thump behind you, hinting that the tall spider-man was behind you before you turned around to see him holding the green lizard with his red webs. "Hey," you said, looking up to him. "Caught the lizard?" As you chuckled, you noticed that he still had that unfazed look on his face. It seemed like he was trying to put up a brave front in front of the crowd. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat before responding.

"Follow me," he ordered with a reserved tone as he shot a web and pulled himself up to a very tall skyscraper. You followed behind him, the wind blowing into your face before you landed gracefully on top of the skyscraper.

There, you saw him tap on something on his wrist before another portal opened, the same bright orange hexagons forming the strange entrance while they rotated slowly. Your eyes squinted from how bright it was, while he still had the same expression as before. He got ready to throw the lizard into the portal, while it struggled and squirmed under his tight webs. "This is not the last time you'll see me, Peter!" It yelled, glaring daggers at you and the tall spider-man, until he was thrown into the portal. It created a short blast before the portal returned to normal.

You were quiet for a bit, not knowing what to say. He then turned around to face you, the portal closing very slowly while he approached you. "I'm from another dimension," he admitted while you gasped dramatically, knowing the obvious.

"You are.?! Woahhhhh.." Your eyes were wide behind your mask. He glared at your sarcasm, crossing his arms as it showed his muscles behind the tight suit.

"Take this seriously, chiquilla," he monotonously replied before clearing his throat and looking away. There was a small pause before he spoke. "You showed great abilities when you saved all those people." As soon as you received the compliment, his eyes shifted back to you while yours lit up with joy. It felt like you were a kid again, basking in the glory of a teacher's praise for acing a test.

He didn't say anything else. He looked down at his hand and slowly formed a fist. You watched him, wondering what he'd be doing. You tilted your head to the side, trying to see what was in his palm when it slowly opened. After a few more moments, he opened his fist.

"A watch?" You looked confusedly before he tossed it to you; you easily caught it, observing it. "What the hell is this for?" You asked, looking back at him. You finally noticed that it was the same watch he had on his wrist.

"You'll feel more at home," he responded stoically. He took the watch and helped you put it on properly. "... and we can use the help," he said.

"Who's we?" You asked, bewildered, becoming more baffled than ever. You'll feel more at home, he said. What did that even mean? You took off your mask, getting a clearer view of him, as you had a concerned face. "Who even are you?" You replied like you were annoyed for not knowing the entire truth.

His mask slowly distorted into pixels as it showed his face. "Miguel O'hara." He simply responded, looking down at you with his intimidating, tired brown eyes. He then slowly turned around, walking to the portal that hadn't been closed yet. You watched him enter the bright hexagons before you watched him disappear in front of your eyes.

You gripped the watch tightly.

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

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haggishlyhagging · 1 year

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“By 1900 child mortality was already declining—not because of anything the medical profession had accomplished, but because of general improvements in sanitation and nutrition. Meanwhile the birthrate had dropped to an average of about three and a half; women expected each baby to live and were already taking measures to prevent more than the desired number of pregnancies. From a strictly biological standpoint then, children were beginning to come into their own.

Economic changes too pushed the child into sudden prominence at the turn of the century. Those fabled, pre-industrial children who were "seen, but not heard," were, most of the time, hard at work—weeding, sewing, fetching water and kindling, feeding the animals, watching the baby. Today, a four-year-old who can tie his or her own shoes is impressive. In colonial times, four-year-old girls knitted stockings and mittens and could produce intricate embroidery; at age six they spun wool. A good, industrious little girl was called "Mrs." instead of "Miss" in appreciation of her contribution to the family economy: she was not, strictly speaking, a child.

But when production left the houschold, sweeping away the dozens of chores which had filled the child's day, childhood began to stand out as a distinct and fascinating phase of life. It was as if the late Victorian imagination, still unsettled by Darwin's apes, suddenly looked down and discovered, right at knee-level, the evolutionary missing link. Here was the pristine innocence which adult men romanticized, and of course, here, in miniature, was the future which today's adult men could not hope to enter in person. In the child lay the key to the control of human evolution. Its habits, its pastimes, its companions were no longer trivial matters, but issues of gravest importance to the entire species.

This sudden fascination with the child came at a time in American history when child abuse—in the most literal and physical sense—was becoming an institutional feature of the expanding industrial economy. Near the turn of the century, an estimated 2,250,000 American children under fifteen were full-time laborers—in coal mines, glass factories, textile mills, canning factories, in the cigar industry, and in the homes of the wealthy—in short, wherever cheap and docile labor could be used. There can be no comparison between the conditions of work for a farm child (who was also in most cases a beloved family member) and the conditions of work for industrial child laborers. Four-year-olds worked sixteen-hour days sorting beads or rolling cigars in New York City tenements; five-year-old girls worked the night shift in southern cotton mills.

So long as enough girls can be kept working, and only a few of them faint, the mills are kept going; but when faintings are so many and so frequent that it does not pay to keep going, the mills are closed.

These children grew up hunched and rickety, sometimes blinded by fine work or the intense heat of furnaces, lungs ruined by coal dust or cotton dust—when they grew up at all. Not for them the "century of the child," or childhood in any form:

The golf links lie so near the mill

That almost every day

The laboring children can look out

And see the men at play.

Child labor had its ideological defenders: educational philosophers who extolled the lessons of factory discipline, the Catholic hierarchy which argued that it was a father's patriarchal right to dispose of his children's labor, and of course the mill owners themselves. But for the reform-oriented, middle-class citizen the spectacle of machines tearing at baby flesh, of factories sucking in files of hunched-over children each morning, inspired not only public indignation, but a kind of personal horror. Here was the ultimate "rationalization" contained in the logic of the Market: all members of the family reduced alike to wage slavery, all human relations, including the most ancient and intimate, dissolved in the cash nexus. Who could refute the logic of it? There was no rationale (within the terms of the Market) for supporting idle, dependent children. There were no ties of economic self-interest to preserve the family. Child labor represented a long step toward that ultimate "anti-utopia" which always seemed to be germinating in capitalist development: a world engorged by the Market, a world without love.”

-Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women

#barbara ehrenreich #Deirdre English #child labor #capitalism #patriarchy #amerika #industrial revolution

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owlespresso · 3 months

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dogged pursuit. dr veritas ratio. p3 of ? / part 1, part 2 summary: you've been appointed as the bodyguard of one doctor veritas ratio after a failed attempt on his life. he's easy to get along with, so long as you learn when to plug your ears and focus on his washboard abs. tags. suggestive content, reader insert is a bit of a freak, mr dr ratio is getting OBJECTIFIED!

He’s doing it, again. You’re sure he’s not even cognizant of it. The irresistible nature of him, nestled in every curve and bough of his body, perfect and smooth as the statues he painstakingly labors over.

He’s been quieter, today. You get the sense that he feels a little guilty about his tantrum yesterday. It’s already water under the bridge, as far as you’re concerned. He can have a mouth on him because he’s pretty. Because you’re sure there’s some deep-seated inferiority complex entrenched at the root of his behavior.

What you can’t abide by is him sneaking off to go out on his own. You’ve made the rookie mistake of sneaking in a short, afternoon nap, only to wake and find him nowhere within your shared domicile. You’re his body-guard. How are you supposed to guard his body if he doesn’t tell you that he’s going out for a run?

Watery sunlight filters in through the half-opened blinds. It’s cloudy, today. A pressure weighs heavy in the air, the kind that rolls in before a nasty storm. You’re half-resolved to go out looking for him, even though you know he can well handle himself. Fortunately, he strolls in through the front door before you have to make that call.

He’s in a t-shirt and shorts that don’t even reach his mid-thigh. They’re too tight for him, fabric hugging his ass, his hips. You let your gaze roll up the length of his calves and thighs, skin covered by a thin sheen of sweat. A bead of it rolls down the side of his face, caresses the sharp angle of his cheekbone.

“You didn’t tell me you were goin’ for a run,” you grouse at him. He bends down to undo the laces on his white sneakers, and your fingers clench tight into fists. Long, smooth legs. Shiny with perspiration from the run, glimmering underneath that dull sunlight. He leaves his shoes against the wall all neat-like, and then turns to lock the front door. He takes his sweet time in answering you, makes sure you know your concerns are hardly worth his time. Brat.

“You were asleep,” he says. His voice is airy with faux innocence. “I’m not a child. I’ve told you countless times that I do not need an escort—I am an adult—a doctor, mind you, and I can very well take care of myself. The fact that I fended off my assailant on my own should be proof enough of that.”

“I know all that—you’ve been telling me since the day we met. But think of it from my point of view. If anything happens to you while we’re here, anything at all, it’s my head on the line! There’re IPC goons crawling all over this town. What if one of them sees you, without me, thinks I’ve been slacking, and reports me to the higher ups?” you tilt your head to the side. Once again, you’re reminded of how few friends Veritas Ratio has likely ever had—how wanting to educate the universe’s populace doesn’t necessarily equate to his ability to see another person’s perspective. He’s arrogant, yes, but he isn’t devious. He wouldn’t hope to get you in trouble.

“I…” he says, and then swallows. The conflict plays out across his face. As subtle as it is, you can see it in the way his jaw tightens and his lips purse together. It takes only a few seconds before he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Very well. I… apologize. I failed to see it from your point of view. We may have our… disagreements, but I wouldn’t want to see you harmed.”

“Disagreements? What’re you talking about?” you say, flatly. “I agree with almost everything you say, all the time.”

Another pause. “Yes, you do.” He sounds pained. He runs a hand through his wind-tousled hair as he approaches the table, where a water bottle sits next to a blue and white vase. “About that, you should make more of an effort to form your own opinions, even if I happen to not agree with them.”

“Oh?” you grab his wrist. “Really? You’re the kinda guy who likes being listened to though, aren’t ya?”

“You make me sound like some sort of tyrant,” Veritas scoffs. “Having a social circle populated by individuals with diverse opinions is healthier than being surrounded by mere yes-men,” he says, spitting the word out with no small amount of venom. “That’s how the Genius Society has declined so steeply in the last few decades, only approving those who fit a very specific set of standards. It’s a recipe for stagnation, I tell you, and the blind worship paid to them—”

You half-listen to him. He winds himself up with no prodding from you at all, expression warped with displeasure at the mere thought of his intellectual rivals. You lean over and draw his sweaty hand to your mouth, kissing the back of it. He cuts himself into a series of surprised, and indignant splutters.

“Whatever you say, beautiful,” you coo, swiping your tongue over the back of his wrist. The tang of sweat-borne salt nearly makes you shudder.

He draws his hand back to his side like he’s been stung, and you release him with a coy smile. He cradles it to his chest, pale cheeks flushed with color. And he gets stuck like that, for a few seconds, completely jarred. For all the whining you’ve heard about his temper and supposed long-windedness, all it really takes to strike the mighty doctor silent is a few, choice actions.

“You are a menace,” he glowers, and stomps towards the stairs. The steps groan underneath his weight. You admire the plump curve of his ass, the flex of his thighs with each angry step.

Evening turns and tosses into deep night. The house is swaddled in deep shadow. You think about the taste as you stare up at the ceiling, remember the way his ears had turned pink in the pale grey light.

A pulse of thunder groans in the distance.

#hungering for hsr #dr ratio/reader #dr ratio x reader #series dogged pursuit

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 5 months

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Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons Chapter 3

Any Viking/Norse words and customs were found on Google, so if it's incorrect please educate me!!

Summary: Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of. A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has. Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way?

Viking!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut, abuse, violence, animal attack, blood

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Y/N held Bucky’s arm as he led her through the village. People who hadn’t been down by the shore watched her walk by, some of them bowing and others smiling widely. They reached a tall black structure, the hof, or temple as Bucky explained, and she was separated from Bucky and brought inside. She followed Winnifred until she was presented to a group of women who were surrounding a bath. They were all in simple strapped dresses, as the heat of the water dampened the air heavily.

“We must prepare you for the marriage ceremony tonight,” Winnifred said. Y/N nodded, trying to relax the nervous flutter of her heart. “They will take care of you, and I will come for you when they’re finished.” Y/N was stripped and washed extensively. Her hair and teeth were brushed and cleaned, her body scrubbed in all the crevices, even in spots she was embarrassed being touched. She took it all in stride, assuming that it was customary. When it was all done she was dried off with a fine blanket and then dressed in an outfit like what Winnifred was wearing, but the dress was a dark green color and the fur adorned on her shoulders was that of a fox, the red complimenting the dress nicely. Her hair was braided and her fingertips dipped in a red paint that dyed her skin quickly. She was given a necklace that attached to her dress made of beads, metal and bone. A circlet crown was placed atop her head nestled in her hair, made of finely woven metal, more beads and tiny pieces of gold.

Winnifred came to collect her and brought her to the front door of the temple. “I will present you to our people, and you will be given a new name,” she explained.

“A new name?” Y/N questioned. “What’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing, my child. You will go by both names. Y/N, your English given name, and a new Danish one, given by prophecy from a seer…me,” she gave Y/N a wink. Y/N nodded as Winnifred tapped the doors with her staff. They opened instantly from the outside and Y/N was greeted by everyone in the village, torches lining the way as nightfall set in. Winnifred led her out into the small clearing in front of the temple. “I give you Y/N, a lost daughter of Freya, our soon-to-be Drottning and wife of my son, James.” She lifted her hands towards the sky. “I call upon our Aesir! We present this child to you for reclamation!” Her hands shook and a faraway rumble of thunder was heard, making the crowd of people mumble as they watched the sky. The clouds seemed to clear for a moment, and as the stars peeked through Winnifred smiled. “Astrid,” she beamed. She placed her hands on Y/N’s face. “Y/N Astrid, daughter of Freya, Drottning of the Danes, child of the stars.”

The crowd of people cheered as Y/N smiled at Winnifred. Winnifred led her to Bucky who stood nearby. He had also bathed and was dressed in a long dark red tunic, brown pants and deep brown boots, an even longer fur coat on his shoulders. His braids and hair adornments were renewed and he wore a necklace with a round pendant. Y/N gawked at him, appreciating him all cleaned up as he took her hand, leading her through the people. Many of them reached out their hands to touch her, speaking to her in their language and some in English congratulating her and welcoming her. Bucky led her to a clearing in the middle of the village with a large bonfire heating the area. There were garlands covered in flowers and fruit, furs placed throughout the seating areas, and people playing instruments she didn’t recognize. A few women were singing along with the music, their voices hauntingly rippling through the air. Something about the whole thing felt so right, so comforting, so true, that Y/N fought back tears watching them celebrate.

They approached an arch made of horns where another woman dressed similar to Winnifred stood. As people got into positions around the fire and seating areas the woman held her hand up to quiet the players and singers. She held up her painted red hands that were holding a braided rope that was made of fabrics, ribbons and a strip of a black animal pelt.

“Frigg! We bring to you a couple wishing to bind themselves together in life and beyond.” She gestured to them to give her their hands. They presented their entwined hands to her and she proceeded to bind their hands together. She started what sounded like a prayer in their language and Bucky lowered his head. Y/N followed quickly. As the prayer continued Y/N felt her power flowing through her without thinking about it or calling upon it herself. Her hands began glowing in the binding, and as the woman’s voice rose in volume the power seeped into Bucky’s hands. He didn’t react at first until the power seemed to inject into the veins of his hand. His eyebrows furrowed, then a low hiss passed through his teeth, and then he began to shiver as the green light zapped through him. Y/N looked on in horror, trying to release his hands but unable to because of the binding. She looked at the woman, who was still chanting, and then behind her to Winnifred, who just nodded at her with a serene look on her face. Bucky shivered more violently then suddenly stopped, his body almost going rigid before a heavy sigh left his mouth. The woman finished her prayer and did the motion in front of her face that Bucky and Winnifred had done in greeting before turning towards him.

“Awaken, White Wolf,” the woman said quietly. Bucky’s eyes opened and he blinked rapidly until his gaze met Y/N’s eyes. She gasped upon seeing her power flash in his irises before it disappeared. “You now share the power of Freya, Jarl. She has bestowed her gift through her daughter to you. Your children, their children, and their children and so on will carry this power, this gift, this responsibility. Treat it well and with respect, else it will be taken from you and lost forever to the land and its people. May it bless your lives together.” She reared back and let out what almost sounded like a howl. The people around them all did the same.

“Frigg and Freya bless this union happily. You may seal this marriage with a kiss.”

Bucky still looked shocked at what had just happened but smiled as he leaned down to Y/N. He pressed his lips to hers as they shared their first kiss. The people around them cheered, and yet Y/N couldn’t hear them. She was too entranced by his lips, the softness, the tenderness, but most of all the fire it ignited deep within her. A rush of their now combined power flowed through them and melted into the ground below them, creating another whistling wind that sounded like laughter and a rumble in the earth that sounded like a hum of acceptance.

He pulled away and grinned widely at her. The woman untied their hands and Y/N immediately brought her hands to his face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t mean to hurt you–”

“I’m fine, my Drottning,” he kissed her nose. “I feel…reborn.” Y/N huffed out a laugh as she scratched his beard, the worry still etched on her face. “Now we celebrate, Asynja,” he pulled her along to one of the seating areas and pulled her into his lap.

The night was filled with songs and dances and performances. There were even fights, with the people making bets on who would win. Mead flowed heavily and food was shared as the night drew on. Y/N was approached by many of the people, some of them just to say hello, others to bless her and Bucky, and others who asked for blessings from her to their children. Y/N didn’t know what to say, and yet each time something deep inside her seemed to take over and the words just spilled from her mouth. After hours deep into the night Winnifred stepped forward.

“It is time for the union to be completed,” she motioned to Bucky and Y/N to follow her. There were some “oohs” and “aahs” and whistles heard through the crowd as Bucky excitedly pulled Y/N out of the clearing and back towards the temple. Once they’d reached it the women who had bathed Y/N before opened the doors for them. A large bed had appeared in the temple where benches and tables had once been. Y/N tensed as she knew what was to come next. “Here I leave you. Congratulations my dear Bucky,” she took his face in her hands again, giving his cheeks a pinch, “and welcome to the family, Y/N Astrid,” she walked up to Y/N and pressed her forehead against Y/N’s forehead. She gave them one final head bow then retreated back towards the clearing.

Bucky pulled Y/N into the temple and the doors were closed behind them. Y/N was still tense as she stared at the bed. The temple was warm, making her start to sweat under the fox fur she wore, but she was afraid to make the first move and take anything off. She knew what the wedding night entailed, how it was done, but had never done it before herself. It was a strict rule that an English princess was to be untouched by anyone until her wedding night with her new husband. Y/N didn’t know if the Danes had different traditions.

“You look afraid,” Bucky observed.

“That’s because I am,” Y/N answered quietly.

“So it’s true? The English don’t let their royals do anything until marriage?”

“Yes,” Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “At least, they try. Have you done this before?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, but not because I wasn’t supposed to. Just because, well, war,” he said somberly. “Never got the chance. Or found someone I’d be willing to be with.” Y/N nodded, her eyes flitting around the room. Her breathing became heavier as her nervousness gripped her heart. “Hey,” he stepped in front of her. “It’s going to be fine. We will learn. Together.”

Y/N nodded again as she tried to slow her breathing. Bucky pulled her chin up with his finger so she would look at him. He leaned his face down to her and brushed his lips down her cheek leaving a wake of small kisses across her nose to the other cheek, and then hovered above her lips. Y/N’s eyes fluttered as she watched him, her eyes flicking back and forth from his eyes to his lips. He pressed his lips against hers like he had for their first kiss, then angled his head to deepen it, pressing more firmly against her mouth. The fire deep within her was ignited once again as his lips moved against hers. Her hands gripped his shirt as his arms wrapped around behind her and pulled her flush to his body.

Bucky walked backwards with her until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He slid his fur off and then broke the kiss and sat. His hands slid from her face to her shoulders and unhooked the fox fur off of her, then slid behind her and untied the back of her dress. It loosened around her and she let it slide down her body. She wore an almost sheer underdress and some underwear underneath it. Bucky pulled her underwear down and helped her pull the underdress over her head until she was left bare before him. Y/N instinctively started to cover her breasts with her arms, her legs trying to cross to cover her most private parts, but he held her still. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, don’t hide from me.”

He leaned forward and kissed her stomach then dragged his lips across her skin to the underside of her left breast. He kissed it, making her shiver, then licked his way to her nipple, giving it a soft lick and then sucking it into his mouth. Y/N’s hands shook as they laced behind his head, holding him against her as he nipped lightly at her skin. His hand went to her other breast and massaged it, his fingers rubbing her other nipple.

Y/N’s knees felt like they were about to give out from the pleasure she felt at just his mouth and fingers on her. She gasped as he switched breasts, his mouth now laving at the opposite nipple. He let out small whimpers as he sucked and licked her, his breathing becoming faster. Y/N moaned at a particularly hard suck, her head falling back. Bucky’s metal hand slid down in between her legs, his fingers rubbing her lower lips until he found the little spot that had her nearly buckling against him. The metal against her skin felt glorious. His mouth let her breast go with a pop and he stood.

He turned and pushed Y/N onto the bed and motioned for her to scoot up as he kicked off his boots. He pulled his shirt, pants and underwear off and stood before her. Y/N’s heart rate jumped as she looked at him. The contrast of his metal arm against his skin was tantalizing, but she was shocked by the amount of markings he had on his body hidden under his clothes. A tapestry of animals and runes littered his torso and his right arm. As her gaze wandered down she audibly gulped. This man was huge in every way. Her widened eyes made him laugh. “It will be alright, Drottning,” he said as he crawled onto the bed. “I will get you ready for me.” He laid on his front and hooked his arms around her legs, pulling her body towards him so that her core was in front of his face. She tensed, not knowing what he was doing. He felt her hesitation and smiled up at her. “I’ve been told that this helps. You’ll like it, I promise,” he winked at her. Y/N nodded. He kissed her thigh and then dipped his head down. She wasn’t sure what to expect until she felt his tongue lick her slit and she gasped loudly. He licked her lower lips languidly then would dip further into her and flick at her entrance. He moved upwards and found that spot again, flicking his tongue quickly on it. Y/N’s back arched, her hips trying to twist out of his iron grip, not because it was painful but because it almost felt too good.

“Bucky…” Y/N moaned, her hands pulling at his hair. It only spurred him on, a deep hum from his mouth vibrating into her pussy, making her squeal. He sucked on the spot and unlooped his flesh arm from her hip. She felt one of his fingers start to prod at her entrance that was quickly getting wetter by the second. He slipped his finger in then thrust it in and out slowly. Y/N felt a tension deep in her gut start building. He slipped another finger into her, stretching her as he thrust them in and out, picking up in speed as his lips sucked her spot into his mouth. The tension was making her see stars, her legs trying to clamp shut around his head. He then sped his fingers up again and started flicking the spot harshly with his tongue. Y/N moaned loudly as the sensations all became too much and she felt the tension snap inside her. She felt a gush come from her by Bucky’s mouth as she nearly ripped at his hair. Her legs shook uncontrollably and her hips bucked violently. The feeling started to ebb away and Bucky pulled his fingers out of her, licking some of the liquid that came from her before pulling himself up.

“Taste so good, my Drottning,” he said in a husky whisper. He lifted his wet fingers to her mouth. She opened her mouth instinctively and he put them in, making her taste herself. She moaned a little at the taste as she tried to breathe normally again.

Bucky’s fingers retreated and he put them in his own mouth, licking up anything left she didn’t get. He spread her legs further apart and settled between them, his hips inching closer to hers. Y/N tensed again, knowing what he was about to do. “I don’t think it will…” she started, then shut her mouth.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing her again. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Y/N hesitantly nodded. Bucky took his stiff cock in his hand and pumped it a few times, making himself moan, then lined it up with her pussy. The head of it slowly pushed into her, making both of them groan. Y/N tried to relax but felt herself tensing at the intrusion. Bucky stopped and began sucking at her breasts again, distracting from the pain and pressure. As he worked her into another pleasurable frenzy he would slowly inch forward, until he was fully sheathed inside of her. Y/N appreciated him going slow, letting her adjust to him, and when he was all the way in she sighed.

“It feels…so full…” Y/N said dreamily. The fullness was making her feel delirious, like she had been missing something she didn’t know was a possibility. If it always felt this good she wanted him inside at all times.

“So tight, Asynja. Ah,” he gasped as her pussy fluttered around him. “Gods, you feel so good…so right,” Bucky slowly pulled back then pushed forwards, letting her feel every part of him. Her hips trembled again, her legs wrapping around his hips as he continued to thrust in and out of her. She looked down at where they were joined, watching him move in and out of her, the sight making her whine deep in her throat. Bucky moaned at the noise she made, pulling her head up with his hand and kissing her passionately. As their tongues entangled his hips started moving faster, making her gasp against his mouth as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Feel good, my Drottning? You beautiful, powerful, strong woman…destined for me,” he whispered against her ear as his head dropped into the crook of her neck. He thrust harder into her, making her fingers dig into his back. “Mine,” he nearly growled as his hips rolled.

Y/N felt a heady drunkenness setting into her mind, her head feeling foggy as the pleasure took over all of her senses. She felt herself nodding as he claimed her. “Yours,” she babbled, whimpering with each hard thrust as the tension built again deep in her core. “Your Drottning…your Asynja…my Bucky…” Bucky suddenly hauled himself up, holding her against him so that he was thrusting up into her. The angle made her yelp as he felt even deeper than before.

“That’s right, you're mine…I’m yours…Y/N Astrid, my star,” he pulled her down onto him as he thrust upwards.

The snap was unexpected and even more tightly wound this time, so much so that when Y/N screamed his name it reverberated through the temple. She clung to him as her entire body tensed and she gushed around him. Her pussy squeezed him like a vice and he shouted as he finished inside of her. Y/N could feel him filling her up and it prolonged her shaking around him as she whimpered with each shock she felt spread from her pussy. Bucky fell to the bed, stopping himself from crushing her at the last second. They lay together, sweaty and exhausted as they came down from the high.

Bucky turned his head and kissed Y/N’s cheek softly. She smiled, her tired eyes blinking slowly at him as he rubbed his nose against hers. “I think we’re pretty good at this,” he huffed out a laugh. Y/N giggled, then groaned as Bucky slid his cock out of her, making him hiss. He lay next to her as they both stared up at the ceiling. Y/N felt around for his hand and laced her fingers in his. Bucky smiled widely at the gesture.

Just as Y/N was on the brink of falling asleep she felt a fur being draped over her and a kiss to her forehead. She smiled dreamily and snuggled close to Bucky’s warmth. She had done it. Married the supposed enemy, created an alliance that brought peace to his and her people, and found a new home that was accepting of her and the magic she possessed. She missed Alfie terribly, but hoped that in due time, if her ability had shown her correctly, he would be alright and become the great king he was destined to be.

**picture is A.I. from Pinterest, unknown original "artist" or "creator"**

@wintrsoldrluvr

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #viking!bucky barnes x reader #viking!bucky barnes #viking #medieval #chapter 3 #princess!reader #powers!reader #magic

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

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Hi, Momo! I'm a long-time admirer of your work and humor! <3

The thought has been itching in my brain since I got my hair done, but how would the yarem (plus Pickle, I love stinky boy) react to their black s/o getting box braids/faux locs/etc.? They're waist-length, if that makes any difference. Sorry if you're not accepting any requests atm! ;_;

Thank you for being here and for the support! 💕💕

I can definitely make head canons on that! I will do my best 🥰

Baki Head Canons

Reaction to black s/o’s hair being done

Pickle

At first he had no idea who you were before he gave you a quick sniff. Then he goes right back to his giant, puppy self. The caveman playing with you locks/ braids in interest

Pickle will try to nibble on them so you will have to spray him with the handy dandy spray bottle you keep in your purse full of vinegar (Pickle learned to open his mouth to drink it’s original water content). Pickle doesn’t like vinegar, he thinks it sour (for now)

Pickle may try to show you that he’d like his hair braided after a week. His primitive brain wants to match with his partner’s (you). He’d be over the moon if you put beads in his hair (he would try to chew on them)

Biscuit Oliva

He paid for the bundles for your braids/ locks. He happy to treat you to something nice because he likes treating you like a princess. Oliva is the whole package

Oliva records your hair for you and takes pictures of you for your social media. He’s your biggest fan

Katsumi Orochi

He asks if it’s okay to touch them. He’s never seen you with a different hairstyle before so he’s fascinated.

Katsumi will ask you about it and he’ll educate himself on it. It will take a week for him to come up to you with his phone in hand to show off some hairstyles he likes (he wants you to try them)

Katsumi is another boyfriend that is willing to pay for you to get your hair done. He just needs more guidance on what hair to buy

Hanayama Kaoru

This control freak picked out the style, hair bundle color, and the stylist to do your hair. Only the best for his partner (and he will not settle for any less)

Kaoru would never let you get scammed for hair (or any beauty service). Kaoru will pay top dollar for anything involving you. He also looks at the reviews for salons before he books you an appointment

Kaoru will never let you have a bad hair day. You’ll always look and feel your best with him

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 1 month

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by Kylie Ora Lobell

Now, Klompas has come out with a book, “Stand-Up Nation: Israeli Resilience in the Wake of Disaster” (Wicked Son), which is a unique approach to Israel activism. Rather than sharing news about the war, this book highlights Israel’s altruism towards the world.

“Today, Israel is nicknamed the ‘Start-Up Nation,’ and it is celebrated for its booming economy and ingenious innovations,” she wrote in the book. “Less celebrated is the story of how Israel lifted up other nations as it lifted up itself — the story of Israel, a force for good in the world.”

“Today, Israel is nicknamed the ‘Start-Up Nation,’ and it is celebrated for its booming economy and ingenious innovations. Less celebrated is the story of how Israel lifted up other nations as it lifted up itself — the story of Israel, a force for good in the world.”

Klompas’ book outlines MASHAV’s work, such as when they built the first utility-scale solar field in East Africa, spearheaded clean water initiatives in Israel, Jordan, the West Bank and Gaza and provided meals to starving children in India.

“For a while, Israel became a global leader in supporting newly independent states. Precisely because it was small and poor, Israel had an advantage over larger, richer, and more established countries,” Klompas wrote. “It was a model and source of inspiration for newly emerging nations facing their own array of challenges.”

She saw this with her own eyes. After finishing up at the UN, she founded and led Project Inspire, an initiative to show Israel’s work in social, environmental and economic development in low-income nations. She ran tours in Uganda, Kenya, Guatemala, India and Nepal, showing participants how people in these countries utilize Israel’s teachings and technologies to tackle poverty and inequality.

When Klompas traveled, she saw Israel in “the most unlikely of places,” she wrote. “While trekking in East Africa and walking through a small craft market, I spotted a handmade beaded bracelet with the flag of Israel alongside bracelets with the flags of Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. In the remote hills of Nepal, I happened upon a group of children, and as I passed by they yelled to me: ‘Shalom! Namaste! Hello!’ In Uganda, I visited a remote island on Lake Victoria. Getting there required a windy bus ride, followed by a rickety boat ride, followed by another bumpy bus ride. When we finally reached Osanidde Village, an orphanage for children with HIV, we were greeted by teenagers who sang the Ugandan national anthem followed by ‘Hatikva.’”

“Stand-Up Nation” is a callback to what Israel really is, and what a massive impact the small Jewish State has had on the world – a much-needed reminder post-Oct. 7, when it is being bashed everywhere we look. Klompas believes that enough isn’t being done to communicate Israel’s nation-building initiatives.

“I think I’m the first one to write a book about it, if not one of the first,” she said. “I’m not sure that people who have been to Israel dozens of times are even familiar with MASHAV. How many people know this story about Israel as a developing country and founding an international development agency at the same time? It’s an untold story. And the more that I learn about it, the more it shocks me that people don’t know it.”

#aviva klompas #stand up nation #israel #jewish state #hamas #gaza #israeli resiliance

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magnetothemagnificent · 2 years

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Sorry if this is an inappropriate or rude question, you don’t have to answer.

I’ve been dealing with internalised negative feelings about religion, due to being raised by very Christian family, when I’ve never believed what they said. It made me think that religion is an awful thing, a cult by sorts.

A few years back, I made a friend who is Jewish and he’s really cool and I respect him a lot. I also am trying my hardest to respect that he is religious but I can’t help that voice in my head, saying he’s corrupted. I don’t think I believe it anymore but I kind of want to ask, a reassurance I guess, what your views are in religion as a whole? Why do you believe it’s good?

First of all, it is not marginalized people's jobs to prove to why they deserve humanity. If you had asked any other Jew this question, they would have every right to ignore this quesiton and/or call you out on it.

However, I do put myself out there and try to educate people, so I'll answer your question.

Religion is part of human culture and history. For as long as humans have been humans, we've always had symbolic representation, taboos, and imagination. Paleolithic humans burying their dead with body paint and bead ornamentation- that's an example of spiritual belief. To be human is to be illogical, superstitious, and imaginative. Even other animals can sometimes act according to superstition or seemingly illogical motives. Humans are incredibley intelligent, and with our intelligence comes questions we cannot answer and fears we cannot explain. Where are we from? What is death? Where are we going? What is our purpose? These are all answers we seek, and having a religious belief set can help answer these questions. Religion is just a world view in the same way Western science is a world view, and they're not incompatible with each other. Many scientists are religious, I myself am a student of science and am religious.

Religion has brought people together for all of human history- it allows the sharing of ideas and resources. Harvest festivals, weddings, coming-of-age ceremonies, funerals, all these religious events serve to reinforce the bonds in a community. A relationship must be maintained and reinforced, or it becomes stagnant. Having a shared spiritual belief system and coming together for ceremonies reignites communal bonds. Religion also allows for a community to have a shared moral system. While religion isn't necessary for morality, it definately helps define the values and morals of a person and community. If a community can come together and agree on a system of values, then there's less potential for violence due to incompatible values. Religion is a social contract. Religion is also a comfort, and can help with the immense wait of loneliness we face. If the trees and water have spirits, then you are not alone. If your loved one goes to an afterlife after death, then they are not alone.

Religion has as much potential for harm as any world view. Just as there have been countless atrocities committed in the name of religion, so too have there been countless atrocities committted in the name of science. Does that mean we should just toss out all of science? No. In the same way we shouldn't get rid of religion.

Additionally, "Religion" isn't a monolith. It's not one world view, but a category of world views. There are many forms of religion and each religion is different. Monotheism, polytheism, animism, ancestor veneration, etc- these are all different kinds of religion that can overlap with eachother too. A bad experience with one religion doesn't define all religions. With all due respect, your experience is anecdotal, and you can't apply your singular lived experience to every since religion in the world.

And for Jews, our religious identity is deeply important to us. We've been persecuted for thousands of years for our identities, and we've miraculously not disappeared from the face of the earth. You don't have to understand why your friend is religious, but you need to unpack why you think he's corrupted and why you think you have the right to apply your experience with religion to every religious person. The fact that you were raised Christian might be another contributing factor to your bias towards your friend- antisemitism is often deeply ingrained in aspects of Christianity.

#religion #anthropology #culture #human history #human behaviour #animal behavior #superstition #human condition #cultural anthropology #antisemitism

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dirtytransmasc · 2 years

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Do you have any HC Ronal just mothering spider

I love the idea of ronal seeing this boy who just wants to fit in, want to never stop learning, who strives to be the best he can, and feeding into that as a love language, and also helping him feel like he doesn't have to be like that to be deserving of love and family. aka, most of these are about her becoming almost like a mentor in a way, like a parent mentors their children, but making teaching very personal.

she takes spider out on her Ilu everyday, showing him something new, something important to her. it's personal to them, a time he gets to be held by his mother, spoken to in a soft but wise way he has always imagine a mother would one day speak to him. its a time she gets to hold her new baby, a baby she wishes she had gotten to bond with more in his life, no matter how logically impossible that wish is.

she may have lost her spirit sister, but she makes bringing him to see the tulkun a priority. sign lessons too, working it into everyday life just so he can become fluent. connecting him to his siblings is important to her.

she makes sure he feels included during family meals, sleep piles, going to the family bathing pool, etc. she makes sure he doesn't feel like he's just tagging along, but that he is meant to be there.

she worries about him physically; she knows his human body was never meant for this world, nor half of his normal activities. she pays special attention to his hands and feet, how scarred and calloused they are. she clicks her teeth at his thin frame (even if he's lean with muscle, he's still just so tiny to her, she worries) and the shiny skin on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders (sun damage). she makes a ritual of applying balms and ointmants, treating his hands and feet with oils, feeding him filling meals each and every night.

ronal makes sure to use terms of familial possession and terms of enderment for him. she doesn't use his name often, she typical calls him "yawne" (beloved), "maitan" (my son), or "yawntutsyìp" (darling/little loved one) [keep in mind, these came from the learnnavi site, and I don't know if these are accurate to the metkyina people or their dialect]

nags and disciplines him like any other mother would nag and discipline their children, the boy craves structure, normalcy, motherly love (even in the form of tough love).

I personally hc that ronal isn't the touchiest person, in terms of like hugs and like full body touch, but she's a hand on the shoulder type mom. she's always touching her kids in her own way. she's always has a hand on him, on his back/shoulder, in his hair, holding his arm. he always knows she's there.

speaking of hair, she definitely helps manage that (I think after neteyam he hacks it all of during his mourning period). she makes sure it doesn't dry out and tangle from the salt water, styles it in the traditional metkyina way (with a little help/education from mac and norm, his hair is style more appropriately for his hairtype, cause man have they been waiting for a chance to do that).

she knows that he wants to help, to be of use, but he can't be a hunter due to his body; so she teaches him how to cook and craft, to use the land (cause he has to relearn a lot of stuff in this new territory). she finds he really likes making jewelry and helping cook (both are very communal activities, its done in tight groups, he likes that). she definitely sticks back with him, spending more time doing that over hunting unlike before.

she has multiple beads on her song chord for him; when she first adopted him, the first time he met the tulkun, the first time he called her mom, etc.

#might do a part 2 eventually #cause I can't think of anymore at the moment #but I can feel my brain forming more #anyway #she's such a good mom #she just wants him to feel loved and happy #spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #avatar spider #spider avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2009 #ronal #tonowari #spider tonowari'itan #hi'i'tsyil te fkew'weopx tonowari'itan

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jpriest85-blog · 4 months

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Put together a collage of my Werewolf MC Hala from @barbwritesstuff Bloodmoon and decided to include some additional info and hedcanons about her.

Name: Hala bint Badr

Pronouns:she/her

Height: 5ft.5”/165.1cms

Appearance: An average height Arab woman with a tan complexion, dark brown curly hair, hazel eyes, aquiline nose and medium build. Hala is often seen wearing layered clothes, homemade jewelry, and a headscarf or hijab, usually in red.

Wolf form: Resembles an Arabian wolf with dark, brown fur, that’s darker on her back and tail tip, and lighter beige on her stomach, ears and muzzle. Hala is smaller than her packmates, with larger ears, and a shorter thinner coat.

Conviction: Be Kind

LI: Marco

Alpha: Aliksander, deceased. Hala, current.

Misc. Info & Headcanons

Hala’s name means halo around the moon in Arabic, and her surname means daughter of the full moon.

Her mother’s name was Sama which means sky in Arabic.

Sama’s pack originally came from a desert climate but like most werewolf packs they had to move to safer territories in other countries.

Hala’s mother never saw the ocean in person until her late teens, and she learned to swim from Jay during their brief romance. Sama later taught Hala how to swim as a way to pass on something from Jay to their daughter, other than his eye color.

Hala has a caffeine dependency but prefers tea. After moving to the city Ed introduced her to boba tea and she got hooked.

Hala prefers not to drink alcohol due to disliking the taste. As a result Hala and Farro usually wind up as designated drivers whenever their packs meet up.

Hala is prone to getting cold easily even in her wolf form. So she often dresses in layers and/or will cuddle with pack members for warmth.

Hala and her mom used to spend a lot of time in public libraries when they used to travel. They had free textbooks and resources to help with Hala’s education, and the nicer ones even offered free classes or activities for people.

Hala learned to make jewelry at one of those libraries and even used to sell the things she made with her mom. After joining the pack Ed helps Hala sell her jewelry online, but she still gives out jewelry for friends and loved ones for free as gifts. As a result every member of the pack owns at least one piece of jewelry or customized accessories made by Hala.

Hala also does little arts and crafts projects with the kids when she is on babysitting duty. This instantly made Hala Izzy’s favorite person when Hala made her a tiara from an old wire hanger, some beads, and glitter.

As far as Hala’s own jewelry preferences go she tends to wear clip-on earrings, usually made of copper or nickel.

Hala’s mother used to own some gold bracelets from the old country that were originally going to be passed down to Hala as a bridal gift if she found a mate. After their pack died though Sama wound up pawning the gold bracelets to support herself and Hala.

Back when Hala was still a stray she used to go out in deep water to swim on nights when there is the full moon, that way she was less likely to hurt someone late at night in the middle of the ocean or lake. Worst case scenario she might swim too far from the shore, wind up exhausting herself and drown. Hala figured that was a better risk than giving into the moon and killing someone, the Alpha and Minjo however did not agree. They were both very distressed at how casually Hala explained that she first wound up in their pack’s territory because she got lost looking for a body of water deep enough to potentially drown herself.

Hala still keeps her mother’s seashell necklace and wears it constantly. Jay made the necklace for Sama as a gift after their first date taking her on his bike to the coastline.

Hala learned how to apply jacket patches from Addie and Elma.

Hala’s favorite jacket is a denim and fleece jacket that used to belong to Marco. He gave it to her shortly after she first joined the pack when he noticed she’s more sensitive to the cold, and told her to keep it because she looked cuter wearing it. She started developing a crush on Marco after that and added rose patches to the sleeves so she could always be reminded of Marco when she wears it.

While Hala didn’t become as close with Vicky as she did with Ed. She always respected and admired Vicky. Sure they don’t alway agree on things but Hala understands that sometimes you have to make the hard decisions, especially since Vicky had to become another parent for Ed growing up when she was still a kid herself. After becoming the Alpha Hala knows she can trust Vicky explicitly to keep the pack safe, but she’s also trying to make Vicky understand she can also depend on Hala and the others to help protect and look after her too.

After becoming the Alpha Hala takes different jobs and learns new skills to help the pack and their new home. She starts working at a craft store so the pack gets discounts on everything from school suplies to fabrics. She becomes a certified notary to help the pack when they need to verify important documents and paperwork. She even undergoes training in her wolf form to become a registered therapy dog.

Likewise Hala tries to encourage and support her pack members with whatever they need. Like helping take care of Minjo’s kids if she eventually decides to complete her training to become an official registered nurse.

#bloodmoon if #oc collage #werewolf mc hala #oc info

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j1ho · 2 months

Text

( park bogum. twenty eight. non binary. he+they ) LEE JI HO has been spotted around the neighborhood, i think they’re a waiter at infierno. i heard from a friend of a friend that they’re cordial, diligent & sharp-tonged, stubborn. it’s no wonder they’ve made it this far in the city, they’ve been here for all of their life! now that i get a good look at them they kinda’ remind me of talk by beabadoobee.

≡ BASICS .

full name : lee ji - ho , 이지호

nicknames : jj

gender & pronouns : non binary & he+they

sexuality : bisexual

age : twenty₈

nationality : korean - american

ethnicity : korean

current location : manhattan , new york

living conditions : typical to any eligible bachelor in new york, jj lives in a disheveled studio apartment with just about anything spread across any surface. delayed bills, old recipes, vintage trading cards, and crumpled newspapers. his plants are overdue for a watering and the fridge is stacked with leftovers. the only organized area in their apartment is their room, with everything in its designated place --- clothes hung categorically, by their designated occasions. aside from being dedicated to his work & never having time to sort the place, his cat doesn’t make things any easier by wandering around the place while they're at work !

≡ BACKGROUND .

current occupation : taught chess to kids when 18-22, currently a waiter!

dream occupation : as a child he has always enjoyed making his own meals and would often dream about owning their own restaurant, a dream that carries on inside him. his love language is making people food <3

past occupations : has worked as a bartender, a busboy, and much more.

social class : working class

in debt? : no...

educational achievements : graduated with a phd in mathematics & accepted into law school, but shortly dropped out.

family : father ( alive, lee kiyoung ), mother ( deceased, jung nabi ), & older brother.

pets : a brown tabby cat named mimi, but he does take care of a lot of strays.

prized possession : a family portrait of when he and his brother were younger, a jade bead bracelet his mother used to wear, recipes his mother used to make, & a box of unused herbs his grandmother has gifted him.

≡ PHYSICAL .

height : 1.82 m

eye color : dark brown

hair color : dark brown nearing black

physical strength : surprisingly above average

speed : a little above average thanks to having to walk everywhere

intelligence : above average

agility : average

stamina : average

ailments : asthma, imposter's syndrome.

distinguishing marks : has lots of scars from childhood and cooking accidents, wears contacts, usually misses a wrinkle or two when ironing his clothes, constantly wearing his mother’s bracelet.

character inspirations : lee harker ( longlegs ), baek yijin ( 25 21 ), choi han kyul ( coffee prince ), kid ( monkeyman ).

≡ PSYCHOLOGY .

MBTI : infj

enneagram : type iv

≡ STORY .

triggers : parental death, implied abuse.

you were quite the handful growing up, always climbing up those trees your mother would beg you to avoid. always getting stuck and requiring your older brother to come get you or worse … the same old group of firefighters who gave you that scolding look. in school, you make friends quite easily and whether it was because you were such a social butterfly or the intimidation behind your surname, you weren’t too sure. as a child though, you never understood the gravity of things like that. money and name, that all seemed so trivial.

the more you grew, the more you took after your mother. your eyes, the pout of your mouth, and your insatiable love for cooking. your most cherished memories are in the kitchen, with your mom, face powdered with flour. imagining as though you see inside a michelin starred restaurant, hurrying to produce the most lavish meals. sneaking chocolate chips into your mouth when your mom wasn’t looking. feeding biscuits to the dog when your father wasn’t around. and thankfully, during your formative years, he was never around.

one of the last things you remember your mother telling you, nearly pleading, was to follow your heart. [ she’d grown sicker and sicker over the years, a well-kept family secret, up until the end. she dies shortly after your high school graduation. ] you’ve grown older and you understand things like money and the weight your name holds. you don’t want to be a disappointment, an embarrassment. always the creative, doe-eyed child, part of you had wanted to follow in your brother’s footsteps. so cool and collected, very business chic—practically manufactured for the corporate world. [ another part of you, still so wary and fearsome, wants to make your father proud. just once, you want to make him crack a smile. ] so, instead of using your mathematical expertise to measure flour and herbs, you use it for something more … practical, as your father had called it. it was between that or law and you didn’t have the icy quality for that world.

though you have time & time again expressed your intellect through academics, you feel as though something just isn’t breaking through to you. mathematics, theory, and science all come so easy. it’s too rigid and limiting, you realize. a part of you, a very integral part of you, is being locked away. there aren’t risks in this world to be taken, everything is very cleanly cut and sharply outlined. obtain that certificate, congratulations, and now, spend the rest of your days by a cold desk, tie hanging around your neck, and own that miserable, office job. no, that isn’t the kind of world you want to live in.

there is no worse dread that fills you knowing how easily someone ( such a figure in your life ) will toss you aside. how easily your own blood will discard you. your father immediately cuts you off at the mention of culinary school—at the idea of dropping out of law school [ which you had only gone to for him, you had been living your whole life to be like them! to live up to that oh-so glorious LEE name ]. the door hits you on the way out, straight whack! into your forehead. living in new york, with four roommates, and routinely chowing down on takeout is a stark contrast to the very comfortable, expensive life you’d been used to. but, you remember what your mother had said and how life is just too short to have your dreams stay as just dreams. if anything, you live because of her.

thankfully, your amiability and socialization do you some good in adulthood. you hear, from a friend of a friend’s friend, about this little, very 'low key' [ or so they had said ] nightclub which seems to be all the hubbub for the nepotistic, snobby socialites you once pranced around with. it’s absolutely perfect in all its glory. in a way, it’s as though you’re getting your revenge ; after rounds of interviews & some serious consideration, you’ve landed yourself a job at the joint.

≡ HEADCANONS .

been there about six ( coming onto seven ) years, still no promotion ! and has seen so many people come and go … both employees and clients alike.

think of that one employee who everyone knows. like everyone, even the person you think has to have been there the longest knows them. they’ve seen some shit, they know all the tips and tricks. they’re tired. they’re a veteran, why are they getting in a yelling match with the sous chef ?

if you’ve seen kitchen nightmares, you know those servers/waiters who are basically the backbone and the glue keeping everyone together from losing their shit? i am going to tell you right now he’s that person. god forbid if gordon ramsay ever comes to infierno jiho airing their shit out without a doubt.

despite being tired af after a long night’s shift, when he goes home, there’s nothing more thrilling than trying out a new recipe or some kind of food someone may have even mentioned to him.

if ur on a smoke break with him he’s either that coworker who doesn’t want to fw anyone or asks you the most out of pocket question like “if you had a daughter would you let them date x? yea that’s what i thought”

actually very kind and caring of people he works with even if he’s getting head to head with someone. they’ll probably settle it over drinks after work or go back to normal in two minutes.

that one fucker who don’t play about spade !!!

huge mamas boy with crazy daddy issues ( hello .. zuko here ) and crazy hopeless romantic ):

#ehq.intro #oh brother this guy stinks #sorry this is so long u guys i usually write no intro at all or an entire novel <3

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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year

Note

💕 Some platonic kisses, perhaps?

Send me emoji(s) and I'll write a drabble

It has been months since they survived the brutal encounter in the Astral Sea together, but Essek still can't help but pick around the edges of the Mighty Nein, slinking through their shadows like a feral cat. It isn't as if he doesn't trust them—they are unhinged, to be sure, each a live wire in their own way—but rather that he can never expect them to trust him, not after all he's done.

And yet. Yasha asks him to bring flowers whenever he and Caleb visit Zadash, loves to see the various blooms that grow in the part of Exandria she has yet to visit.

And yet. After he mentions to Caleb that he would love to spend more time in the garden with him, if not for the painful sunlight streaming down, on his next visit, he finds him and Fjord hard at work on a covered porch, magic forgotten in favor of hammers and nails and beaded sweat.

And yet. Veth asks for his help designing the curriculum for her strange summer camp, peppers him with questions about spellbooks and components and safety procedures and even ethical limitations, as if he were the subject matter expert in such things, as if his thoughts were worthy of swaying the course of these campers' arcane education.

And yet. Essek tries to keep out of the way as Jester bounces her way through a tour of the tiny shack beneath the water tower, showing off her many pieces of art and talking a mile a minute about the classes she's been offering, but when it turns out he's standing just in front of her most recent piece, she rocks up onto her toes to kiss his cheek and nudge him gently out of the way. He doesn't even hear what she says next, his fingers coming to touch the spot where her lips had so briefly brushed, a moment of tenderness he would once have thought the height of folly. He tells Jester that the painting is beautiful, because it is, because it brings a smile to her face, because somehow, this hectic group of fuck-ups and freaks have opened their doors, have let this feral cat wander in and make a home of them.

#ask #tiamat-zx #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #mighty nein #mighty nein fic #essek thelyss #my fic

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pandorafallz · 7 months

Text

Vampire AU | Chapter 29

The surgery felt far longer than it actually was, Jake had realised, as he obeyed the words of both Surgeon and Tsahìk in the operation. At one point, due to inexperience, Harper almost woke up once but Ashely was able to get her back under quickly for them to resume.

It was a success, in the end. With one concussion as well.

Zeke’s poor timing in walking into the theatre had given him the view of internal things he didn’t need to see and had keeled straight back almost comically. They had left him on the floor given there wasn’t a nurse to drag him away once Ruby was sure he hadn’t cracked his skull in and shoved an ice pack under his head.

Once Harper’s side was stitched up Mo’at did take over to apply her medical balms to aid the healing process; it worked far more efficiently so while there would be a scar, it wouldn’t be too noticeable once it was fully healed up.

Jake was glad to deglove and wheel himself out by the time Eliza called it for unnecessary hands to leave. Getting back into his old clothes was a massive relief and he happily wheeled around the trodden-down grass to flex his arms and back more from the ache of his position in the afternoon sun.

N’deh was gone, as was Neytiri, but Mo’at’s Pa’li that they had used was still about and licking at a new pitcher-pod flower. With the uneven terrain under his wheels, he couldn’t do much exploration to see if he was far or close. So, all he could do was wait; Mo’at could return him back to camp if need be. Seze was gone as well so Jake had to assume N’deh had gone with his niece to Hometree to report to Eytukan or Neytiri had just left on her own to do that.

“I can’t believe you guys just left me on the floor?” Zeke’s voice was a soft whine before the masked figure was guided out by Zane who gently sat the guy onto a near the lab’s wooden ramp on a partial log. The Ice-pack held in place by the mask straps still.

“We made sure you weren’t at risk of brain injury but there was some prioritising the woman cut open on our operation bed over a guy on the floor with a concussion,” Zane said, patting the guy’s shoulder.

“Wow, I feel so loved.” The concussed guy said with a roll of his eye. “I just didn’t expect there to be a lot of blood.”

Jake snorted a little, his eyes following Zane for a moment as the guy headed off without a word and disappeared around the Rolab’s side. “What did you think we were doing?”

“I may be a scientist with PhDs in Bioengineering and Xenobotany but I am not used to blood on a day-to-day basis.” Zeke said, “Unless I’ve cut myself shaving.” He ran his hand over his clean-shaven face.

“Bioengineering?” Jake cocked his head curiously, “What does that entail?” He could picture something but he couldn’t imagine that skill being overly useful on Pandora. At least Xenobotany was another fall-back.

Zeke went to open his mouth but Mo’at huge form was swift leaving the airlock and stretching out at her full height and pulling off the tiny, modified apron off her front that looked more like a dentist’s dib on her. She pulled her kuru back to her front and without another word hurried to the river.

Both Jake and Zeke watched for a moment as the Tsahìk dipped in and out rather quickly and squeezed out the water from her hair but looked to try to rub the water into her skin. It wasn’t often she was disgruntled but that was certainly the expression on her face.

“All good?” Jake couldn’t help but ask as she returned.

“That spray smells. I don’t smell like… myself.” Mo’at complained but she was relieved to slip her beaded shawl back over her shoulder from the folded pile she had left on a nearby rock. “It’ll take days to leave me.”

“Ah.” He could understand that very easily Na’vi had a more sensitive nose and could follow scent trails; sterilizing spray would certainly going to throw her off and no doubt Eytukan as well too. It was unnatural. “But how was your first real major operation?”

“Educational. ElizaDrennek is… very stern in her practice but efficient.” Mo’at crouched down to be at their level, running her fingers through her hair. “I believe I will need new tools to be of practical use if such an occurrence happens again.”

“Yeah, the appendix is a tricky thing. More common in children or young adults but can happen into adulthood.” Zeke said, lifting his shirt to show there was…only a small scar that his finger traced. “I had mine out when I was seven. Didn’t rupture but it sucked. Fortunately, Germany’s medical system is better than America's.”

“Oh, you German?” Or did he visit when it occurred?

“Ja, on my father’s side.” It was very jarring that Zeke’s American accent shifted entirely away as he spoke, going full-on German. “Mostly raised in Amerika but I’d spend every summer at my vater’s hometown and trying not to get a wedgie from kids who thought I was ‘too Amerikanisch.” He added the last bit with viable quotes with his fingers. His accent vanished on his next sentence, “Aside from that, I loved it.”

“Damn, you’ve learned to pick up the American accent wonderfully. I would never have guessed.”

Zeke grinned, “You got any foreign blood in you, Sully?”

“I heard my great-grandfather was Canadian?”

“Canada doesn’t count. Outside of America, Canada and Delaware.”

“Delaware’s a state.”

“No one cares about Delaware, Jake.”

Jake snorted but craned his mind back to the depth of…what he knew of his family. Tommy had been the one to know off the top of his head. In all honestly, he was a typical American now so… he didn’t reflect any non-American blood now. However, his grandmother… now that he thought about it

“Australian? My grandmother? I think?”

Zeke hummed for a moment in consideration. “I’ll take that.”

There was a momentary lapse in conversation before Jake remembered the Tsahìk’s existence and he turned back to her. “Right, sorry got onto a tangent there.” He said to her, “It happens a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” Mo’at responded with a little dry but looking a lot more herself now and more relaxed as she ran her fingers through her hair and made sure there wasn’t anything human lingering in it. “But, I do have to ask the purpose of the Appendix. Na’vi does not have such an organ ourselves.”

“Oh, the appendix is used to help the body produce cells to help fight infection,” Zeke said then he grinned a bit. “I do enjoy the irony of it; an organ designed to help infection of the one causing it.”

Mo’at’s lip did twitch at that, “I see. I’ll return to home tree soon. I will need to get new tools crafted or in the making before the sun is down. Some with smaller ends. Our size differences are not kind. I didn’t realise how frustrating it truly was. Thank you for being my hands, Jakesully.”

Jake nodded his welcome. In all honestly, his medical training was not….surgical training so he really did rely on the words of those professionally trained to guide him through Harper’s guts. Thankfully, the fact he was getting used to butchering was the only reason he wasn’t queasy about looking at blood and guts. Zeke must not have a strong stomach.

“It’ll take a few weeks for her to fully heal. I want to pop down tomorrow and check-in,” Jake said, “Probably in my avatar.” If he could convince Neytiri to allow him the morning off.

“As will I. I’m confident in Eliza’s ability to care for her patient but I know the medicinal herbs far better than her for now to promote better healing. I will need to teach her for when I am absent.” Mo’at rose to her feet, clicking her tongue that called the Pa’li to her.

“Oh, do you think you could drop me off back at camp? I don’t have a ride back since…N’deh and Neytiri aren’t here.” He couldn’t hear them or anything so… he wasn’t sure if he could sit and wait about it. Sure, he could relink with his avatar to see if they were at camp but he just wanted to go home, at this point. He was sure Nadine had company return once they heard and were waiting on news. No point over the radio when he could talk to his camp directly.

“Of course.”

“<Uncle, be patient>” Neytiri said as the man in question aggressively picked apart seeds from fibres from his earlier collection but she could see his tail was lashing high still. “<My father will need time to fully decide.>”

Apparently, from a suggestion from Kim this morning, N’deh had the idea and desire to get a new Ikran and had firmly latched onto the notion. Neytiri had been there when he had asked after they had informed him of what medically happened at one of the human’s camps but her father was very blunt on the matter and dismissed him back to camp. Neytiri had opted to return him herself and she had been stuck with him fuming for hours so, she had opted to help him continue to process his gathering in the meantime. Letting him stew alone on his feelings was not wise. Her mother would not be happy that she didn’t do anything to tend to hurt or tender feelings. Unbecoming of a tsakarem.

“” N’deh said hotly. “I have done nothing wrong to be rebuked.”

Neytiri sighed deeply but she knew the reasons of why, to a degree and while she couldn’t go past her father about it, she knew she had to soothe her uncle's nerves. This was a…complex choice and her father had clearly weighed the risk of the Rookery too great of crossing paths with… Graceaugustine. Her father had ordered her not to make contact unless she could help it and she knew better than to disobey. Her uncle could not know of where she was, even if she desired to lift that burden for him. It was not her place. She had to think of the clan first.

“<Perhaps he thinks the Rookery is…too close to the Tree of Souls?>” Neytiri scrambled for an excuse and was glad to find one swiftly. The rookery was in the mountains and often shifted around between the floating mountains and it seemed close that it was possible to be in the range of the sacred sites. It wasn’t uncommon but… it would be a plausible excuse to use that wasn’t a lie either. She was comfortable enough with that. “<You are not allowed there>”

N’deh let out a frustrated sigh. “<The only other rookery close is… further north close to the Tawkami clan. It’s on their territory.>”

Neytiri’s head cocked to the side. “<You have visited their clan before.>”

“<Yes,>” N’deh paused in his work, “<, Unlike the Ikran at the floating mountains here, there will be little way in fighting to the death. Their Ikran do not see Na’vi as prey but have other methods for proving a bond.>” N’deh’s mood tapered off a little in consideration. “”

Neytiri’s brow pulled in confusion. “<You do not choose each other? No fight or challenge.>”

“<Each rookery has different behaviours depending on Na’vi exposure the young Ikran have. It’s frequented a lot by the Tawkami when they harvest the flowers up there; some plants grow exclusively in the rookery that would not go elsewhere in their territory. With that much exposure over generations of Na’vi, they feel no concern over Na’vi but they still hear Eywa’s calls for when a Na’vi is there to be chosen to be a rider. A few are like that, like the Aranahe clan’s rookery but again, a portion is much like ours given that there is significant distance between the People>” N’deh explained with warmth in his voice. “<It was something I was taught when I stayed with them for a little while after my initial banishment. A few women were fond of Txon'ong’s colouring and wondered about our story.>”

Neytiri nodded but she couldn’t help but feel a little fascinated. There wasn’t much news recently from clan-to-clan and not many travellers that came to Hometree but she knew it would be important to learn from each clan still. It was…remarkable that the Ikran taming was so different. She had believed that they were all the same.

“”

Her uncle seemed to light up with pride at the mention of the Dreamwalker. A distant reminder to Neytiri that… she vaguely remembered Kimgreene had been close to getting her own Ikran before their banishment. Neytiri had seen the woman hunt and could see she was fully trained. Had to be and certainly her uncle had trained her well in what areas they hadn’t gotten to after they were gone from the Omatikaya. A robbed rite, but... she wasn’t suitable just yet. One child was risky enough but two in her womb? No.

“<Let’s not be too hasty, Uncle.>” Neytiri reminded, “<She is a few months until she is due to birth. I don’t think it’s wise. Perhaps after her children have their first breaths but before....” She trailed off a little, her tail lashing. “<As docile and as calm as those Ikran are, they are still wild animals before they’re tamed by a bond>”

N’deh let out a reluctant huff at her wisdom. “<I know. She has desired one for years. I want her to feel the same joy as I first did when I took my first flight. To feel the wind and the…senseless freedom. I want her to have that joy as well. She had worked so hard for it.>”

Neytiri reached for her uncle’s shoulder warmly. “<One day, N’deh but… after her children breathe our air and rest happy upon their parent’s chest.>”

N’deh remained quiet for a moment. “<I’ll consider the Tawkami’s rookery. It’s… the most viable option unless your mother can convince Eytukan to allow me passage to the Mountains.>”

That thankfully pacified his mood enough for him to relax into his work, his fingers picking out seeds and separating them far faster than hers but she didn’t try to go quickly.

The time continued to turn, long enough that Jeromeepstein made his appearance back to the camp with concerns and having heard of Harper’s sudden health turn but they were still waiting on news. Nadinereza had also been busy; anxiety reorganising the storage supplies by the sounds of it and the occasional burst of profanity when she dropped something.

Morgan made an appearance, this time with an overly large skull in his hands with his carving tool kit but…the skull itself was very unfamiliar. It looked very close to a Nangtang but…it wasn’t. A carnivore for sure.

“<What animal is that skull from?>” Neytiri asked, leaving her uncle’s side to crouch beside as the human seemed to settle down with his tools.

Morgan looked up, “Oh, this is... a vekreng. Humans call them Cloaked Panthers. It’s an old skull from the bone carvers got from some Zeswa traders that passed through years back. I asked if I could have it and they agreed. I think I’ll probably settle fully into bone carving. I’ve worked in most of the areas Hometree has but… bones seem more interesting and…I still got a shit ton I need to put to use. Might as well invest.”

Neytiri smiled a little. “You have found a calling?”

Morgan paused for a moment then nodded. “Hopefully. Took almost two months but…yeah? That and sling-training.”

“May I?” She held her hands out for the skull. Morgan handed it over after a second and she gently turned it in her hands to…see more in-depth of the creature’s face. The natural pathways into the skull for its dual kuru along the tops of its head, the eye sockets as well that were strong and the sharp teeth that were still set into its top jaw. “An impressive animal.” She could see its strength with how thick the bone was and how sharp the teeth were.

“Indeed.” Morgan agreed, taking it back from her. “I want to make this into something stunning. Maybe some sort of mask or perhaps a deceptive piece for my shack.”

“A mask? This is bigger than your own head.” Neytiri pointed out softly, “It may not fit.”

Morgan shrugged, “Maybe a mask for Jerome or Jake? Or N’deh if he’s curious.” He tossed a look down to the weaver who didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. “Like, I get they hunt but I was thinking…what happens if they run into an RDA patrol? Dreamwalkers will get recognised so… why not have them dress up for a bit? Maybe splash in some body paint?”

“The Sky people won’t be that foolish to be that deep into our land.”

Morgan let out a dry laugh. “You say that like they’re not already carving a path to your home or hunting us down.”

Neytiri’s eyes narrowed but… he did have a point there. Sky people often would push their boundaries and small groups could be missed in their patrols. Perhaps caution must have some consideration. Still, Jerome and Kim had been out for years and hadn’t been recognised. Jake as well for months.

“Well, I think Jerome can slap on some paint to cover his eyebrows or see if he’ll shave them off. The RDA think his Dreamwalker is also dead so they won’t initially recognise him��or Kim for that matter. They both wear Na’vi clothes anyway.” Morgan continued, “I’ll scan a 3D scan of this and do some mock-ups on my tablet.”

With that and otherwise still pleased, Morgan headed away towards his mauri-shack with a wave. Of course, the silence didn’t last long and the human disappeared off into his shack as the airlock hissed shut after him. Neytiri’s attention turned as she heard steps through the tree, her ears perking in the relief of seeing her mother upon a pa’li. Sitting in front, holding his chair with all the might of his arms was Jake who seemed to relax visibly to be back.

“Neytiri!” he noted, waving at her with a beaming smile that…made her heart flutter with warmth at his cheerfulness.

Neytiri smiled in relief; no look of worry or concern which meant everything had gone well. Neytiri took his wheelchair from him and opened it then set it onto the grass. Taking him softly from the Pa’li but placed him on the ground for him to get into his chair; why he didn’t allow her to sit him into the seat, she didn’t know but he was stubborn enough to argue her attempt.

Nadine abandoned her organising, coming straight over loudly and Jerome seemed to come out of his mauri with an armband he was crafting.

“Jake!” Nadine came over and hugged his head. “Did you faint?”

“No. Although Zeke did get a concussion.”

“How? He wasn’t the one being operated on!” Jerome laughed a little. “Let me guess, he keeled back like his soul left his body?”

“Pretty much. The guy does not like blood, it seems.”

“All was well, it seems?” Neytiri asked, her eyes flickering between him and up her mother. Although her nose wrinkled at the… strong alien smell that seemed to linger on her mother’s skin. Sharp and…chemically. Unlike the sweet sap and herbs smell she was familiar with.

“Yes, Harper is recovering well. I will visit often to ensure she’s healing well. It will be some time before she can return to Hometree. Eliza will also be absent for some time as well.” Mo’at spoke calmly. “But I must return. I need a wash with a stronger scrub.”

Neytiri chuckled a little, bidding farewell with the familiar gesture then followed Jake as he pushed his wheels over the uneven terrain. Her body itched to lean down and help push but she suspected that wouldn’t be welcomed gesture. He might get offended given how stubborn he was about doing it himself so, she restrained.

“Stay here, Let me have a snack quick and then link back up.” Jake said, pushing his wheels faster towards the shack, “Then I can tell you all about it.”

Neytiri hung back but at her uncle’s gesture towards the mats, she sat down. Nadine also sat down and Jerome although neither of them touched the fibres and Jerome simply carried on with his armband. It didn’t take more than a few minutes before Jake descended down

“Is Kimgreene not back yet? Morgan?” Jake asked, his eyes scanning about as he crouched down

“Morgan’s in his shack, I think he’s cool getting an update later. He’s got some plans with a cranium.” Nadine said, “Also, Kim’s still at Kung’s camp. When the message got to her, you lot were well into the surgery so she figured it was all handled. She did ask to make sure.”

“I suppose. Plus, she may not have been able to help much given her size. Mo’at did struggle. I had to be her hands for the event given she couldn’t work a human-sized scalpel.” Jake said, “But the surgery went smoothly, barring Zeke fainting. It…could have gone better but none of us are trained like a surgical team. We relied heavily on Eliza’s orders to make sure it was smooth going. I do think…maybe we need some of us to train with Eliza to cover the areas needed if this happens again. I’ll bring that up at Hometree tomorrow. Today was fortunate but we can’t rely on luck.”

Neytiri found herself nodding, “Why is it that…you smell? My mother too, for that matter? It’s a horrible stench.”

“Oh, Eliza had everyone involved sprayed down with a sterilisation spray. Your mother was no exception. Humans can be susceptible to infections brought in on a normal basis. On Earth, anyone operating on another human must undergo the same procedures to ensure minimal risk. Since we’re on Pandora, an alien world, our bodies will be more likely to get an infection given our bodies don’t know how to fight alien germs.” Jake explained, “Everyone was masked up, sterilised, and covered so Harper was at minimal risk. As she heals, that’ll tell us if we’re successful.”

“I hope that…smell goes. It’s not pleasant.”

“Me too, but needs must.”

Needs must indeed.

Neytiri found herself not opening up the rest of the day for intense training; the headspace for Jake was…not one she knew would be ready to partake given the natural emotional exhaustion that would come from aiding the life of a friend so directly. Instead, she helped around his camp, keeping him speaking in Na’vi and particularly; to recite the prayer for hunting as they went.

“<…and your body stays to be the people>,” Jake said slowly as they cleaned up the hand-made bullets that had been since scattered in their earlier training when he had been showing her the sling weapon.

“<Your body stays behind to become part of the people>” Neytiri corrected, adding one of the cracked bullets to her growing collection. “Close.”

Jake wrinkled his nose. “Not close enough.”

“<you’re doing very well, Jake.” She said, “You’ve picked this up far quicker than I expected.”

“I’m still too slow. I feel like…I’m still too passive. I need to do more.”

“You’re a skilled bead maker and you’re learning the weaving patterns very well. I have noticed that you show promise of a leader with the humans that are here.” Neytiri gave him a soft look, “You need to See yourself. You’re a hunter at heart but you’re also of two bodies.” She grasped his shoulder. “You are enough. You are doing well for being bound between worlds.”

Jake’s yellow eyes were like pools of golden honey, deep and rolling with emotion but there was the lingering uncertainty that floated within them. She wanted nothing more than to remove his doubt but she hoped he’d reflect on her words later.

“Tomorrow, we will…work on your bow and arrow. You’re posture when actively hunting needs work. On the Pa’li and crouched. We can spend all day working on it if you want?”

“I…I want to visit Harper in the morning; check in on her.” Jake said, “It’d be good…to see her when I’m not elbow-deep in her intestines and covered in blood.”

Neytiri’s nose wrinkled but she agreed to the adjustment. That didn’t sound pleasant but… a new memory to go over was better than reflecting on that grotty aspect of aiding her. “The area of land that they’re in is a good area for hunting. It’s open to a large river and it can attract many animals for you to track. Fresher. Your ability to track through scent needs more work but we can work on that too.”

Jake nodded, looking more determined. “When will Ashely get her Ikran?”

“Two weeks by Tsu’tey’s estimates,” Neytiri said, a little surprised really that Tsu’tey would think so soon but she had seen the woman hunt and train; she knew her Dreamwalker body well and had since developed it. It was a warrior body. She hadn’t seen much, if of anything of Ashelysloan’s human body but she hoped to see her soon. If she had healed up fully.

Jake looked surprised. “Wow.”

“She’s had much longer inside her Dreamwalker, its age is much older than yours and lived life into it. Tsu’tey did take over my teaching with her so I could up for work with you.” Neytiri said.

“I’m just…amazed. Jealous but… at least she’s making real good progress.”

“Once she’s passed Iknimaya, she will be able to participate in hunts with the people. As she is not Omatikaya, my parents are…still deciding on whether this means you’re considered a fully-fledged adult in our culture or not. You cannot have Uniltaron, the second rite that would make you one of the Omatikaya.” Which was…unfortunate. “They’re still uncertain on how to accept sky people into their traditions.”

Jake let out an unsurprised huff. “Na’vi as a whole never will. We gotta make the best of it, even with Uturu.” He offered a tight smile but took her little basket of sling whistle bullets from her. “Let’s not dwell on that now. Let’s focus on something else.”

The Na’vi stepped through the base with a determined pathway. Familiar now having helped construct Refuge’s new home to make it fully airtight and suitable for earth-atmosphere so no one had to sleep in masks when there was another leak.

Excitement hung in the air as well as anticipated and they were almost set to go but… Teylan had not shown up. So she decided to find him first. There were little known places Teylan would be and she had passed most on her way to see there was only one viable place. She slipped through the large airlock before the doors opened at the end of the lab.

To no surprise, Teylan was there.

“…and today, the others are going to visit the Aranahe clan. I think you would be quite proud of them.” His voice echoed.

Kìoetey watched as he was kneeling next to the grow-tank. Alma’s Na’vi self was almost asleep inside. Nude and life sustained through the umbilical cord, the thumping beats of her heart going through the monitors that kept her vitals in check; keeping her alive inside.

It had thrown her off the first time she had seen her teacher like this. Never seen her with her hair down and out of that braided bun, or asleep… or…vulnerable like this. Her body twitching as if she was an unborn baby within the womb. A few instances when she was sucking on her thumb out of basic reflexes. But she had gotten used to it now but.. it seemed Teylan had taken great comfort in coming here often. The most familiar person he knew from the RDA was in the tube.

Kìoetey understood but she knew he had to concentrate his energy on those who would speak and interact back. Alma couldn’t hear him, as much as he liked to think otherwise.

“Teylan,” Her voice echoed, coming around to his side, “We need to do.”

Teylan’s ears drooped. “Must I?”

“Alex says that it would be good for us all to go and make a good impression with the Aranahe. It’s well into the morning. We shouldn’t leave it too late.” Kìoetey said softly.

“I…I don’t want to go. I’m sorry but...it’s just too much pressure. I like it here. Plus, who will keep Alma company here? I can help when they need to sort something out with this tech. Alex showed me how it works.”

“Alma will still be here when we get back tonight.”

Teylan spared a look to the avatar. “But… she’s so alone in there. I know she can’t talk back but I’m sure she’s listening. I don’t want her to get lonely.”

Kìoetey sighed heavily. “If everything…does go well with the Aranahe, can you…at least try and visit next time?”

Teylan paused for a moment. “Well, I suppose if the Aranahe do like you, I can visit but...only for a little bit. I do not like it outside that much. It’s so dangerous.”

Which was the best she was going to get from him, she supposed. “Okay.” She grasped his shoulder warmly. “I will speak to you later. I have a radio on me as well Ri’nela and Yefti but the others will not. The Aranahe may not like them so we’ll use them for emergencies.”

Teylan nodded, his hand coming to touch his new radio. “Okay.”

Kìoetey left him to it and returned outside where Nor was waiting with the others. Raj had kitted them all out in Na’vi clothing. Some burying shades of grey from reusing old clothing but Na’vi enough she hoped would be acceptable. Ri’nela of course had gone all out and had added decoration back into her hair. As many as possible.

Okni had also added some decoration to hers but since it was shorter, she hadn’t had as much. Telisi’s hair was still growing out from her scalp since Mercer had had it shaved as punishment for disobeying him in their last training session. The only hair on her head was the braid protecting her kuru. Alma had epic timing in bursting and grabbing the electric sheers before the guy could take that hair too. She had apparently broken his wrist in the process which had brought some joy in Nor and Telisi to hear. The next day, Alma had led them out of TAP in secret when her SecOps mutiny occurred.

It was all a rush after that but everyone was still finding themselves and Kìoetey hoped the Aranahe clan would be the first step now that they were out. To be with real Na’vi. For the first time since…they were babies and toddlers.

They barely looked the part and she could see the anxiety on the other’s faces. Especially Yuayt’s face.

“Teylan won’t go but he’s agreed to visit if everything goes well,” Kìoetey said as she reached her group. “Now, we all have our bows? Arrows? Knives? We have to walk to the Hometree but we don’t know what sort of animals we may come across on our journey. Don’t shoot first and see. We can read the body language.” She reminded, eyeing the latter half of their group like Okni and Telisi.

“Let’s go. We’ve waited long enough.” Nor said impatiently, “I’ve got a quick route in mind. Let’s go.”

With that, they headed out.

“Good luck!” Priya’s voice echoed from the airlock.

The journey through the foliage was long. Though the terrain was unfamiliar to most, Kìoetey had learned enough in her time out to steer a few other's way from dangerous plants. Like those puff pods that Okni thought were like balloons up until she told her that they exploded if touched.

Kìoetey liked to think it was Eywa watching over them by the time the canopy broke to show the top of the massive Hometree in the distance, spurring them one before they found a trodden path to follow and so they charted it with confidence.

The closer they got, and as the tree was looming above, Kìoetey’s heart sang in her chest with nerves but she held onto the truth that this must be done for them to have any part of their people. For their future.

“<Is that…>”

“<No, that clan is long gone.>” The voices were hushed, distant in Na’vi but Kìoetey’s attention turned to two hunters that looked to be in their path and have stopped. “<This must be something else.>”

“<The mark is clear. Kat’nat will want to know.>” The second hunter hissed to the first, her eyes sharp as she took them in. “<If you do not, I will help. They all look lost.>”

The first looked unappeased but after a moment he nodded. “<Fine, I’ll go ahead and inform Kat’nat. You take them.>” He said then turned tail and began to jog away.

The female hunter rolled her eyes at her hunting partner’s antics but turned back to the group. Kìoetey stepped forward, hoping to look less intimidating. “<hello. I am Kìoetey. We…wish to go to your Hometree to relearn more of Na’vi ways.”

The hunter’s eyes dipped down to their attire, clearly sensing something based on their appearance. Hopefully to verify her words. “Your reasons will be heard by our clan’s leader. Kat’nat. I will suggest you put your bows away. Predators will not be this close to Hometree. Our Hometree scouts may not like them to be easily drawn before they know why you’re here.” She was sharp in her tone but gestured the seven of them onwards.

Perhaps reluctant but not passive to let them go on their own, Kìoetey was still relieved that…a guide was better than none and the trip to the tree was shorter too.

As expected by the hunter at least, an Ikran swooped as they neared the main entryway with a very young man, perhaps a teenager with a raised bow. Nor tensed right up with a hiss at the aggression. Ri’nela grasped his arm to temper his reactions before he got them shot.

“<Calm, Neyan.>” The woman said.

“<What is this, mother? You bring strangers to our home?”

Thankfully, the question did not need an immediate answer. The first hunter they saw seemed to return, with three others in two. One male who Kìoetey assumed was the clan leader, but two women; one dressed in bright yellow and seemed to be about her mid to late forties with a bounce to her posture, the second woman as more stern, sharp-eyed and had complimentary colours to the clan leader.

“<Sarentu.>” The woman spoke, moving past her mate towards them. Kieotey held her gaze, allowing her to properly look at their shared mark. “<It had been a long time since we last saw your people here. You’ve been gone a long time.>” She was light in her remarks, her hand coming to her jaw but not touching.

“<Sarentu?>” Kìoetey couldn’t help the question, “<No one has ever called us that.>”

The Tsahìk’s ears tilted in a sense of alarm but her eyes were narrow, taking in her outfit and the others more closely “<Where have you been for all this time?>”

“<The Sky people. They took us when we were little and told us our clan abandoned us. We knew better. We escaped recently with sky people who did not like their ways.>” Kìoetey spoke, “<But… we know little of our own people and what happened to them. You and your people are the first Na’vi we have seen since we were stolen.>”

The woman in yellow shooed the teen warrior into putting the bow away. “<Put that away. There is no need for hostilities. Can you not see they are frightened?>” She reprimanded, moving past the teen and towards Okni first who immediately shied away. “<Do not fear him, young one. His bark is bigger than his bite.>”

The clan leader moved as they spoke, taking each of their faces. “<We knew the Sarentu. Yet none wore these…sky people scraps. Have your spirits been moulded by the sky people or do you remember the ways of your clan?>”

“<Some things I remember, not a lot. My mother’s smile.>” Kìoetey said, her tone coloured with some warmth. “”

“<Ma Mate, it is clear they need guidance and they are here for it. To have Sarentu return to us is a wonderful gift and in such numbers.>” The Tsahìk spoke, “<Aranahe and Sarentu have always had a good relation, let us not judge them upon their start in life and restart them back into our way of life>”

“<And get them into far better and colourful clothes at the very least. They’d frighten the hide off an Angtsìk.>” The woman in yellow spoke, her eyes looking in mild disgust at their clothes. Telisi’s arms came over her front. “”

Kat’nat eyed them for longer and then nodded softly. “<As you wish, Nefika. They will need time to settle and many hands to guide. I trust you to direct them.>”

“” The Tsahìk said, “<Come. Hometree will welcome you and you can rest your burdens with us. We can celebrate the return of Sarentu.>”

Priya sighed deeply but gladly accepted the box Anqa handed straight to her and headed directly into the bathroom, taking a full second to secure the door, shut the lid over the makeshift toilet and set the box into the sink with a huff. The mirror was barely fixed onto the wall but it was functional as she stared at her reflection for a long moment, tilting her head to the slight shadows from under her eyes.

Not good.

They needed more protein; more than what the RDA rations they had stolen had so far. This box’s shortcut wasn’t going to last forever and certainly not when it was shared between the three of them.

She opened it up, took the little pot and filled it with some water first then added the treatments into it; watching the water turn a soft pink before she set the denture glue onto the side before she reached up to her mouth. Sharpening fingernails sunk under the faux teeth but it took force to push each of the five teeth covers out and let them drop each one into the chemicals to clean before she’d eventually put them back in fresh.

The eight from her lower jaw soon joined the rest before she fumbled with her pills, the red pill barely in her hand a second before she swallowed it down and then sighed, taking a second to bare her inherited Vampiric teeth in the mirror. Blunter than a first-generation Dhampyr but… still too sharp for a human. One day they wouldn’t need to cover them.

Just not today.

No one needed to know after all.

Masterlist

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water #jake sully #mo'at #neytiri #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #nor #sarentu #priya chen #alma cortez #avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #aranehe #kat'nat #vampire #vampire au #anqa

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i-didnt-do-1t · 1 year

Text

cw: violence

Morris wasn’t afraid.

He had been repeating that phrase to himself for as long as he could remember. At some point it had to become true, and if it didn’t then he would continue to do what he had done the rest of his life and ignore it and make himself the threat.

Morris wasn’t afraid of Oscar.

But when he got like this, silent, and slamming doors and grinding his jaw so hard that Morris could almost hear his teeth against eachother, he wondered what it would take for that to be turned on him instead.

Oscar held his anger the same way their father had, in the tense line of his shoulders and flexing hands and flared nostrils. (This was all their da had ever given them.)

It didn’t take long for their da’s anger to turn on him, the myriad of scars lining his back served as enough of a reminder without the familiar crease in Oscar’s forehead.

He wasn’t afraid, but he knew it was best to clear out of the way and let his anger run it’s course except he also knew it was something that never really ran dry.

(He was his da’s son, too.)

It was difficult when they shared a room. Morris liked the door open, Oscar liked it closed.

Tonight, Morris didn’t say anything when Oscar slammed it shut, the echo reverberating around the bare walls and even Weasel didn’t yell in complaint. It must’ve been bad.

Morris watched his face as he roughly grabbed the top of his tie, pulling it off like he would rather be knotting a noose.

Morris knew a lot of things, knew what the flex of his left hand meant, you knew what the twitch of the side of lip meant, knew what his silence meant.

But he didn’t know how to avoid it, how to placate it, because that was never the type of education he got on the farm, or in the refuge. He learnt to bare his teeth and push back harder and to not let them see him flinch because he wasn’t afraid.

But Oscar, when he was like this-

“Stop fucking staring at me.”

“I’m not.”

He pulled off the tie, threw it on his bed, still unmade from earlier that day, a tangle of itchy sheets and a single lumpy pillow.

He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Morris was just quick enough to avoid his gaze, fixing his eyes on the roof instead, but he can still feel Oscar’s gaze on him, weighted and piercing.

“What the hell are you holding?”

Fuck. Usually his rosary beads weren’t a problem, tonight they clearly were.

“Three guesses.” He says, and his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth.

Oscar scoffs, starts on his buttons, practically pops them rather than undoing them. “You know it’s bullshit right? There’s no all seeing bastard looking down on everyone and if there is he sure as hell don’t give a fuck about us.”

“Yeah you’ve said.”

He thinks, maybe, that the wait is the worst part. That’s what it was with Snyder, this known unknown, in the way that you knew the hit would sting across your cheek because Snyder hit hard and back handed but you never knew when.

Oscar feels like he’s simmering. He feels like that wait between knowing the hit is coming and letting it concuss you.

Morris thinks, maybe, that he wants it to reach boiling point, at least then he can chose to scold his hand in the water.

His wrist is grabbed with too tight, too cold fingers and his rosary beads are untangled from around his knuckles before he even gets the chance to backtrack.

It hits the wall hard.

It scatters across the floor and under his bed and Oscar’s breaths are heaving, measured things. His hand is still clamped around Morris’s wrist and he pulls out of his grip like he’s been burnt and he knows he’s only able to pull away because Oscar let’s him.

Morris is no stranger to anger either, feels it curl in his gut as he eyes one of the single beads that has rolled to a stop next to Oscar’s feet.

“You wanna pray you can go do it with the crip.” Oscar spits.

(Morris is their da’s son, too)

“What? It remind you too much’ve when da forced you to kneel and say the Hail Mary a hundred times over?”

Morris was good at making people angry, Snyder used to say he was like a dog, used to unleash him on other kids to keep them in line. When others hit first it gave him a reason to hit back harder.

But he needs Oscar to boil over because he can’t keep living around this simmering. Can’t keep sharing a room with it. Can’t keep the door closed just to keep Oscar happy because eventually the walls close in so much he finds it difficult to breathe.

The hit that lands is hard and backhanded.

Oscar learnt from the best.

If this wasn’t exactly what he was aiming for Morris would’ve hit back. Would’ve aimed for his lower right rib where some guy managed to hand it to him in a back alley last week before Oscar pulled out his brass knuckles.

“Do you think you’re better than me?” Oscar says and his voice is harsh and rough, and he looks like a mess with the amount of times he’s obviously run his hand through his hair and the top half of his shirt unbuttoned.

Morris brings a hand to his nose and it comes away red.

When he looks up from his fingers, tasting iron in the back of his throat, Oscar’s forehead is creased.

He doesn’t say anything, waits for Oscar’s hand to curl back to his side, teeth grinding again.

This time Oscar looks away first.

The water has stilled again.

Tomorrow night, Morris is going to leave the door open a crack.

(He still feels that curl in his gut and he knows Oscar doesn’t feel bad because their skin was toughed to a leather a long time ago but he hopes at least that his knuckles hurt)

…

If Morris is on his knees tomorrow muttering Hail Marys under his breath as he hunts for the individual beads and shoves them in his pockets then Oscar doesn’t need to know.

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nihiladditaenihilperdidi · 1 day

Text

Day in New York Pt. 2 || Rune + Anya || April 30th, 2024

Rune: "Oh!" It was a sound no mage despised. Not from Jesse. The soft look in Rune's eyes gave him away, watching as Jesse took hold of Anya's hands much the same as her husband.

"Very very nice to meet you. What did Thom try to sell you, honey?"

Anya: It was Rune's expression that warmed Anya's smile. She'd have offered the same respect that he had to Mrs. Grzesiak regardless, but that was due anyone. Jesse was clearly special.

She tucked that stubborn curl away with her free hand, chuckling. "Um. Dragon's breath. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, yet."

Rune: "Oh, dear g - sorry. Thom! Thom, what were you thinking?!"

"Money, dearest." Thomas poked his head out from behind the counter. "She's already had an in with a sulfur freak. Just getting ahead of the curve." He motioned long and wide.

"You're trying to merch a flamethrower on a sleeper," Rune frowned. "For fuck's sake, give us both beetles."

"Cha-ching." Massive hands folded neatly on the wood and glass surface. Sausage fingers drumming slowly. "Would the lady like holy water, too?"

"No she-"

"Don't answer for her!" Jesse scolded, waddling behind the counter to kiss Thomas' cheek. Rune began rummaging through their takeaway out of spite.

Anya: Something in that gentle chiding reminded her of her childhood home, of quiet afternoons spent sipping tea with her neighbors in the Bronx. She chewed the inside of her lower lip, battling a laugh, and followed the pair back to the counter.

She lost the fight when Rune was given similar treatment, her chuckle barely audible. Yes, she definitely liked Jesse.

Anya made an educated guess about the uses of holy water. She'd seen enough movies. She wrestled her smile under submission as she faced the near-blind salesman.

"Hm. That depends. How much?" Never mind the promise to take it out of the coin payment. Rune couldn't buy everything.

Rune: "Depends how much you need! And what you're storing it in!"

Anya's laugh was caught by his good ear. He was too caught up in Thomas' antics to react. His eyes rolled as an entire garlic knot was stuffed in his cheek like some squirrel in Central Park.

"She's not an exorcist. She's not a field mouse. She's not even a librarian." After all these years, he didn't even know how deeply her faith lay.

A look was given in Rune's direction. A blink.

"Wow."

"You had mentioned coins," Jesse redirected. "Let's go into my office." With a nod, and a gentle placement of fingers on Anya's hip, Rune brushed past, joining the mage on the other side of the counter and past the beaded door.

Anya: She had questions about quantity and appropriate storage, but they died on the tip of her tongue. She pressed her lips together, riding out that beat of silence without interruption. Well.

Anya didn't follow behind the pair. She swept her braid over her shoulder, idly twisting and untwisting the end as she stood at the counter.

"I don't know what a field mouse is," she said, after a stretch of silence. "I'm assuming he didn't mean the animal."

Rune: "People that observe and document. No fighting, no exorcisms, no cleansings. Barely helpful. Self-serving." Thomas' smile was without teeth, a glance given to the now closed door. "I call them curious cats."

Anya: She nodded, forgetting that he wouldn't be able to properly see the movement. It didn't sound so terrible to her. To learn for the sake of learning, for those who had that sort of time. She certainly didn't. Not most days.

"I like curious cats better," she offered, her small smile audible. "I think... I'm going to walk around a bit more."

Better than standing around waiting for Rune and Jesse to emerge.

Rune: "Do you like games?" Knowing she wanted to walk away didn't deter the question. The shopkeeper wheezed in her direction, his smile had grown enough to feel authentic. "Hey, guess what's the most expensive item in the shop, I'll give you a discount on your purchase."

Anya: Anya stopped short, already turned away toward the labyrinth of vintage treasures. "Um. Sometimes," she said, noncommittaly. She was courteous enough to face him, at least. "Depends on the game."

The offer seemed harmless enough. She hummed, giving the area a brief once-over. "Do I get a hint?"

Rune: "Never." His smile had reached its limits, adding youth where there was none otherwise.

"Walk around. Enjoy. Come back when you think you've got it."

Anya: "It was worth a shot," she shrugged, chuckling. "It's a big inventory."

But she spun on her heel, game to pass the time with this little quest. She doubted sincerely that the most valuable items were kept on the floor, even among the antiques and electronics, but she'd give it a browse anyway. To pass the time.

Rune: There were all manner of oddities. A shoebox diorama of some cobblestone street somewhere in London. A tiny hand-painted body splayed on the street outstretched toward another woman wielding a white wand.

But the shelves had switched themselves once again. A small square space of four smaller shelves now made up an area of childhood antiques. Little dolls, quilts, costume jewelry, a rocking horse, and blue and silver pram.

The chandelier shifted colors. Gold and red. Its noise sharp and quick as the door opened.

"On your left," Thomas called.

Anya: Her footfalls were soft and steady, even in her heavy boots. There was no urgency to Anya's stroll through the maze. Things had definitely changed again. She imagined that a person could get truly lost in this place, if Jesse and Thomas were so inclined. Rune's trust kept her worries at bay. She was fine.

But without his guidance, she'd keep her hands to herself as she explored. Her gaze passed over mundanity, seeking out the unique. She leaned close to admire little wooden toys; she'd always found them more charming than plastic.

Those chimes sounded again and she straightened from her examination, stepping nearer to the shelf to be out of the way of whoever had entered.

Rune: A woman barely taller than the shortest shelf paid her no mind. Three inches of height made up of one large bun tied in red and black bands. Her purse was twice the width of her body, but Thomas didn't bat an eye. Whispers began on the other side of the shop. The usual haggle between a mage and a hunter.

"Anya!" Jesse called from the office. "I need you now."

Anya: Tiny. And... determined. Anya may has well have been another piece of furniture. She didn't mind. It made it all the easier to watch the woman as she passed, trying to determine from appearance alone just what kind of mage she was. If she was a mage at all.

But the sound of her name interrupted her quiet contemplation. She returned to the counter much more quickly than she had left it, hesitating for only a moment before stepping behind it and slipping through the door that Jesse and Rune had previously.

"Um. Yes, ma'am?"

Rune: The storage closet that made up the office was barely fit two people, let alone Thomas when it was just him. Rune stood, hip against the desk, arms crossed. Jesse smiled from her seat.

"You, out. You, in. Come here, baby. You got something to sign."

Rune only winked as he passed, stuffing a black coin purse back in his inner pocket as he sauntered out.

"The fuck is he doing here?" The woman frowned. The last sound before the door was closed, removing all outside interference.

"He said this is for you. So, we're going about this by the book. Write your address here, honey." A clipboard and pen were pushed to Anya's side.

Anya: Something to sign? That sounded very official. Her gaze slid to Rune, and at his wink, she had to suppress a grin, rolling her eyes.

The unfamiliar voice behind her had her glancing over her shoulder, but she could catch nothing else before the door shut. Hm. Well, that was something for her to poke him about later. In the meantime, she turned a friendly smile on Jesse and picked up the clipboard to scan.

"By the book," she echoed, reaching blindly for the pen. She trusted Rune enough to scribble down her address without much fuss. "Is something going to be shipped? Or is this just for your records?"

Rune: "Records, baby. You inherited some coins. Just a paper trail so no one tries to take your money." A check on yellowing paper was looked over one last time, signed, and placed on the clipboard.

No questions asked. No warning speech. Nothing but a polite smile and a lingering gaze. Perhaps there was something she wanted to say, wanted to ask, but nothing prompted. But there was something.

"Suda - Rune said you liked something out there? What was it?"

Anya: "Inherited?" Rune was very much still alive, but she wasn't going to mention that. And she already had the coins in safe keeping at home. Unless there were more. In which case, Felix Rune would be getting an earful.

"Oh. Yes, there's a really nice coffee table out there, but I don't have a way to get it home. Not sure I have the space for it, anyway." She waved a hand.

"Is that paperwork all you needed? Your husband has me on the hunt for whatever is most expensive in the shop."

Rune: His smile reached her eyes. Fingers resting on her jaw, she shook her head fondly.

"Oh. Hm. Use his words against him. If he said 'in the shop' then that's what you'll look for."

Leaning in conspiratorially, she quickly made the shape of a box. Her smile became a grin, and she shooed Anya to the door with her 25k check.

By the time Anya stepped out, Rune was nowhere near the counter, and the woman was gone.

Anya: She only laughed, nodding her thanks. Jesse was wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that Anya didn't balk outwardly at a check with that many zeroes as she tucked it into the safety of her wallet, and then into her bag. He was definitely getting an earful.

"Thank you," were her parting words, a hand raised in farewell as she stepped into the shop proper and shut the door behind her. She scanned the area nearest the counter, before turning a small frown on Thomas.

"Did he leave?"

Rune: His gaze went vaguely in her direction. Caught her shape, and the shape that made up her head.

"Nuh-uh. To the right." He waved off in the direction, mirroring his wife's dismissal.

Anya: Rune first. "Thanks," she told him, and vanished between the shelves again in search of the mage.

Rune: Rune was sitting (more like half-buried) on the sofa she had favored, his nose to his phone, sending a quick text with a single thumb.

"Quicker than I thought," he muttered.

Anya: "It was only a little paperwork. Nothing major. You know my bank is going to give me hell trying to cash this thing, right?" She half-perched on the arm of the couch, gaze finding his face.

"How many did you sell? You're taking them back out of what I have at the house, just so we're clear."

Rune: "Jesse should have you squared away. Did she forget to give you some papers?" If it seemed he was ignoring her statement, he was, but only for so long, putting his phone away with a sigh.

"I'm not taking them back? Assertive. Understood."

Anya: "She gave me the check. Kept the papers for her records, I think."

His arm was given a gentle whack, for that. "I'm serious. If you don't tell me how many, I'm just going to assume. Who was that woman, from before? She didn't seem too happy to see you."

Rune: That was a rapid change of subject. His attention was seized, blinking gently.

"I'll take some coins when we get home, and she wasn't." He paused a beat. "She's a hunter. They don't get along with things like me... sometimes."

Anya: "Good." There was that word again. It made her smile, even as he explained the woman's issue. She shrugged. "Mm. Her loss, then."

As long as she didn't try to start anything. And Anya hadn't seen her at the counter, so she doubted the woman would. "Did you get your beetles?"

Rune: "What? What's that smile for?"

Two fingers feather pinched her chin. Whether she answered or not, he reached into his coat pocket for a small black and blue matchbox. The white on its edges dulled to a pale yellow. A single piece of twine tied the box closed with a bow. He smiled at the label. Black Cat Safety Match, it said boldly. Made in Poland, it said on the side.

The matchbox was given a light shake. The screech within was scratchy and shrill and brief, followed by a bit of scurrying.

"This one's yours."

Anya: Her smile only broadened. That was her business.

"That's adorable." She took the box with careful fingers, laughing softly. It was doubtful that another box would have suited her better. Her thumb brushed over the printed cat, as though she might soothe the little creature inside.

"Biedny mały kochany. Do I need to feed it?"

Rune: "That's up to you. The critters are only potent as - hm. The happier you make it after its witness, the less powerful it'll be."

The kiss he stole could hardly be called a steal, or a kiss. Just a brush of his lips on her shoulder.

"So, I've given you a new pet." But he knew this from the beginning.

Anya: "Mm. I see." Anya bit down on a smile, stroking a hand over Rune's hair. Of course he knew. They both knew that it would be a very happy beetle. As happy as a beetle could be. And soon.

"I'll be... so mean," she lied, tucking the matchbox carefully into her bag. "He'll be very potent. Are you ready?"

Rune: "Mm." Rune looked one way, then the other. The hunter was long gone, and without a scratch.

"Give me a sec." There would be no leaving the pawn shop without a proper farewell from Jesse.

"Leavin' already?" Thomas frowned.

"Got shit to do."

He didn't have to say he would be back. After seventy years in and out of the old shop, it was a given.

Anya: Anya would follow behind. Despite the unfortunate business with dragon's breath, it had been a pleasant experience.

"It was really nice to meet you both."

Rune: Thomas looked up from a spread deck of 22 tarot cards, smiling at the sound of Anya's voice.

"Did you guess? What's your answer?"

Rune shook his head, walking past straight back into the office for his hug and kiss. There would be no leaving just yet, as Jesse yanked him down by his coat, whispering in his ear.

Anya: Her fingers drummed thoughtfully against the counter. She hadn't had a chance to explore any further.

"Hm. The register? Unless you've got a safe in here."

Rune: Ah. Anya was waved off with a shake of his head. He seemed quite pleased with himself. "Nope and yep but nope. Next time! The challenge remains! We appreciate your business. Oh!" Once again looking back up from his cards. "You have our number? You should have our number. Lemme see-" With some strain, he moved his great weight off the stool and over to the other side of the counter, feeling at a small box of cards near a Rolodex.

"Here."

Anya: She snapped her fingers in a show of disappointment. "That's too bad."

Her head shook, but she said nothing, assuming that he'd remedy her lack. Sure enough, he did. She took one of the offered cards with a small smile he wouldn't see.

"Thanks."

Rune: Rune was walking around the counter when Thomas clicked in his direction, flipping one of the cards for his eyes only.

The two said nothing, and it was business as usual. Only this time, Anya's hand was taken on the way out.

Anya: "Bye!" she called, since neither of them did. She was surprised by the hand in hers, but took it in stride. Her gentle squeeze was a matter of course, by now.

"Jesse's great." Words spoken only after they'd left the building and made it down the sidewalk several paces. She turned her head to kiss his cheek without breaking her stride.

"Thank you. And don't say that this one is unnecessary, because it absolutely is."

Rune: Her squeezing fingers were expected. The kiss not so much. Not by the look in his eyes. She beat him to the statement.

It took a second to register what she was even thanking him for. Not Rune assuming it was for meeting some of his people.

"You're crazy. A loon." Rune shook his head.

Anya: "Hm." She seemed to consider the accusation very seriously for a moment, expression growing pensive. The facade cracked with a cheerful smile.

"Nope. I feel perfectly sane. If I'm not, that really says more about you than it does about me. Next stop, Brooklyn?"

Rune: He was inclined to agree, tilting his head into her, bumping forehead to forehead.

"Brooklyn," he signed. "Unless you're -" No, no more giving her an escape route. If she wanted to go home she would say so. Besides, if she was tired, they were minutes from his flat.

"Thomas is an idiot," he said after a block.

Anya: "I'm great," she assured, despite him not finishing that statement. "And I'll tell you if I'm not."

Not so much a promise as a statement of fact. She gave his hand another squeeze.

The delayed declaration prompted a silent laugh from the mutant. She raised a shoulder.

"He was nice enough. Not a bad guy. He didn't know. About... the dragon's breath."

Rune: "People speculate how he lost his sight. Word around the water cooler is it was a dragon. I heard he did it to himself. Better visions. I dunno. I don't ask. He'd turn it into a bet."

Anya: Her laugh was little more than a huff of air. "So would you, Mr. 'Guess My Age.' I think he handles himself well enough without it. Maybe that's just in the shop, but if that's where he spends most of his time..."

She shrugged again. He didn't seem to be suffering.

Rune: "Then I bet you know what he is." His brow arched sharply, biting his cheek to hold his expression steady.

"He hasn't left in some thirty years. He'll probably die in that shop."

Anya: "Ah? Hm. Interesting." Her head tipped one way and then the other. The more she learned. "And he wanted to play a game, too. Not as fun as skee-ball, but whatever."

She couldn't quite suppress a shudder at the thought of Thomas spending decades inside. "His life to live, I guess. That much time without seeing the sky or breathing fresh air... I'd be dead in less than a year. Dead or mad."

Rune: "Maybe he saw, ha, or felt something he didn't like outside. Fuck if I know. Never tried to touch his mind. He doesn't have to try."

The crosswalk was considered, scarred fingers lacing through slightly smaller ones.

"Are we walking the bridge, or hailing a cab?"

Anya: "What? Touching minds?"

He eyed the crosswalk, she turned her head to study him unabashedly in profile. "Hm. Are you tired? I'm good to walk, if you are."

Rune: A walk meant they were staying the night. Not a guarantee, but he would bet money...

"Touching minds," he echoed. "He did it when he touched your hand."

Anya: "Makes sense. He knew about the demon." She wondered what else he'd seen, but didn't brood over it for long. The man had no quarrel with her.

"So? How are you feeling?"

Rune: "How am I feeling about what?" he asked, holding her hand as they crossed the street, not wanting to lose her in the current of bodies.

Anya: "Walking," she laughed, but they were on the move, so she supposed that answered her question. She refocused on the path ahead.

"Don't forget, we have to stop and get flowers for your nuns."

Rune: "Mm. Do you still want to see the school? Innocent hello and something about a turtle?" Rune smirked.

Anya: She pursed her lips in a failed attempt to look unamused. "Russian tortoise. Yes, of course I still want to go. School first, then?"

Rune: "Mm... depends." Their hands were given a gentle swing. "I'm pretty sure they'll hand you a shawl to wear at the door. We don't have to go to the school." He didn't want to push her into an uncomfortable situation.

Anya: Anya fixed him with a look, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers. "Ridiculous man. I said I want to go. For the kids, if nothing else. I don't mind covering up. I don't dress for temple like I'm going to a club. I get it."

Rune: He didn't realize what he was reaching for until he felt his prayer beads beneath his fingertips. His free hand dropped, quietly confessing, "I love you," as casually as commenting on the weather.

Anya: She brought the hand in hers to her lips for the briefest brush against his knuckles. Her willingness to dress modestly was hardly worthy of the declaration, but she accepted it happily.

"So. School first, then florist?"

Rune: "Mm. In and out. The old bitties'll be asleep by the time we get to Hillkate if we linger."

Three places in one day. The pawnshop, the school, and his haven. And she wasn't bothered. Not drained, not... running.

He was looking at her again, her fingers gently squeezed.

Anya: That careful squeeze was returned, but she kept her gaze forward. She gave a soft, thoughtful hum.

"Maybe a cab would have been better, then. I don't want to keep them up. You could introduce me in the morning, I guess. The flowers will keep overnight."

Rune: "Maybe it's for the best. The sisters are grouchy before bed." There wasn't a reason for fighting a smile, only in the hopes of staving off laughter.

"We'll do that." Gave them time to enjoy their walk without time looming over their heads. "Brooklyn Bridge is a 30-minute walk." Fair warning. "Full of," he shuddered, "people."

Anya: "Oh, no," she laughed, barely audible over the sound of traffic, and shook her head. "That's a terrible first impression. Yes. Tomorrow morning."

Her shoulder bumped his again. "I think we're gonna make it. But we have been around people all day. You poor man."

Rune: "You've never made this walk?" It wasn't unfathomable. The Bronx was its own beast.

"What about Long Island? Seen the beach there?"

Anya: "No to the bridge, yes to the beach. I really missed out on being a real tourist. There's so much I haven't done."

Rune: "What's something you want to do?"

Anya: "Well, I've been to the Botanical Garden, but that wasn't too far from me. Central Park. Each of the zoos, of course. I guess I'd like to see the view from the top of the Empire State Building. What do you recommend?"

Rune: "Tourist stuff," he remarked with a nod. She had said as much. He considered other popular avenues.

"The Ferris wheel was on the top of my list. You should see... the aquarium." Only made sense, this was Anya. "Don't laugh, you should see the oldest churches. Doesn't matter religion. Historic New York is the New York I know."

Anya: "Of course. That was the best." For more reasons than one. She shook her head, not a hint of teasing in her smile.

"Nothing funny about beautiful architecture. Aquarium and historical churches. I'll add them to the list. I like the hidden gems, but the popular spots aren't bad. I can answer the right questions when I visit my family. They can't believe I haven't gone to the Statue of Liberty yet. Very disappointing."

Rune: The best, she said, and so confidently. His heart could only take so much. Did she have any clue what she was doing to him?

"Well," he considered his offer with a slow inhale. "Animals are watched over. We're... staying here? We could see Ms. Liberty tomorrow."

Anya: "Mhm." She nodded at his question, as though the answer was a matter of course. It was, naturally. She'd always intended to stay.

Still, her smile has grown amused, that hint of teasing creeping into her tone. That they were in the city at all had been a similar suggestion. Spur of the moment.

"I'd love to. But, I feel like I need to say again, that I don't actually have to get everything I want."

Rune: "Who's to say I'm not getting everything I want?" Truly spur of the moment, having not a single spare clothing or toothbrush. When had staying the night become acceptable to her? He wanted so much to know, but wouldn't ask. Already he was making plans.

Anya: Her head tipped back with the openness of her laughter. "Fair. I'll do it for you, then. You're welcome."

She was looking ahead, past the crowd, allowing her feet and the hand in hers to guide her. Lost in thought. "Have you been? To the top?"

Rune: He started to shake his head, only to stop himself and shrug. "Just once," was the truth. "That a story you want to hear?"

Anya: That was an easy question to answer. "Yes."

Rune: He only waited long enough to put space between them and the small group ahead of them.

"A vampire asked me to take pictures. He had been turned in Detroit. Never been to New York before the turn. He called it a favor. You know the one."

Anya: Ah. She did, indeed. That photo he kept on him, always. The one that had him digging his nails into his hands. She'd managed to find the video he'd pointed her toward, had heard the voice of a man who'd died decades before.

Anya pulled his hand a little closer, pressing it between both of hers.

"Mm. Did you get nice pictures? Were you in any of them?"

Rune: After years of patient consistency, her affection came as no surprise. Only a comfort warming his entire being. Some days it was more appreciated than others.

"A few. From bottom to top so he wouldn't hound me to go back." The fire would have taken every last one, he realized.

Anya: Something in her suspected that it wouldn't have taken much hounding. That thought she kept to herself. She had no desire to press on wounds that were still tender.

"And you're sure you want to go back, now?" She had to ask.

Rune: "It was a long time ago, Anya. I won't fall to pieces. We'll buy souvenirs, ugly hats, and take ridiculous photos. Sound good?"

Anya: She hadn't thought that he would, but she didn't say that, either. Asked and answered. With a nod, she let that cradling hand fall away to grip the strap of her bag.

"Yep. How close is your place to the school?" Not her most graceful pivot.

Rune: The loss of her hand had him looking at her. Ah. He'd done something wrong. Maybe, maybe not, but the air had shifted between them.

"A block. Catholicism and Orthodoxy living, mm, relatively peacefully in one neighborhood. Churches, cemetery, monumental masonry, private school, Hillkate," he made a square with his free hand. All one block of each other.

Anya: Nothing wrong. The hand that still gripped his didn't tighten or loosen. And though her gaze drifted to the view from the bridge, her expression was thoughtful.

"Sounds... quiet." Which was far from a negative, in her opinion. The same could very easily be said for where she now lived. "You know, for the city."

Rune: Now that needed no elaboration. He knew her to be someone who appreciated silence.

"Hasn't really changed since the '70s. Frozen in time." It had been his American haven since 1927. A place of tranquility when he managed to stumble his way back into Brooklyn Heights.

The Brooklyn Bridge was packed with locals and tourists alike. Every few meters stood a couple with a camera in their face. His head turned, lingering his gaze on a group of young women in short shorts and long sleeves squishing their faces together. When he looked forward, it was with a shake of his head.

Anya: "Hm." Also not a bad thing. She usually preferred things that stood the test of time. Too much was being made to be replaced over and over, within a lifetime.

It was another thought she did not share. She let the conversation fall away, content to listen to the chatter of the crowd. The sounds of the city. Her grip on Rune's hand tightened briefly when they passed a young man with a little Dachshund poking out of his backpack. Anya resisted the urge to stop him, but kept her eyes trained on them until they passed. "Wie süß."

She smiled, warm and private, before looking ahead. "If they like the idea of the tortoise, I can take care of that tomorrow, too."

Rune: "Natürlich." Already he was turning his head, hiding laughter behind a swallow. Nothing to see here.

"Guess you can tell me if Weiner is happy or not." Considering how tolerant it was with the sunglasses strapped to its head, perhaps.

Back to looking at her, brow arching behind his lightened hair.

"By tomorrow? How?"

Anya: She saw that. And she certainly could tell him.

"Yes. She's very happy. She's ready for a snack, though."

Anya turned to meet his gaze, her grin a brief but blinding flash. She wanted so badly to kiss him, but was unwilling to slow down foot-traffic to do so. Never mind the couple she had to sidestep doing just that without regard to anyone else.

"You have your people, I have mine. I can have a tank, food, substrate, and enrichment prepared in a couple of hours. And if I can get access to a computer with a printer, I can have a kid-tailored care guide for them, too. Plus the number for the best veterinarian. Just in case."

Rune: Her impulse was swarmed by a thousand other pedestrians on the bridge, but his focus was her, and her desire had him squeezing her hand.

"Good. Thought you were going to volunteer yourself." He had no authority to tell her no, but dissuasion was on the table.

"Pitch all that to Father Cyril and hell probably say yes."

But that wasn't where his mind was. Looking ahead only saved him the embarrassment of crashing into an innocent bystander. There was something he needed to get out of his system before entering such holy ground. Leaning close enough to whisper in her ear, lips warm against her skin, "I miss your taste."

Anya: She had been. Anya was obviously the best of vets. And he was due an earful for not knowing that. She was poised to ask why she shouldn't lend her time when his mouth brushed her ear and all thoughts vanished from her head in a puff of smoke. A different kind of magic.

Her brain recovered from its short circuit a moment later. She couldn't look at him without it happening again, but she could tighten her hold on his hand until her knuckles bleached. "I think that's a problem that I can solve."

As soon as she could get him alone. It was all she wanted, suddenly. She released a shaky breath and shook her head. "I forget what we were talking about."

Rune: Their hands would be aching by the end of the night. He didn't mind. This was the kind of pain he relished. It meant something. It was romance as he understood it.

"You will," he smiled, eyes still forward, now for her sake as well. They had an hour, perhaps two, before they could indulge their hedonism.

"Something about turtles. Excuse me, tortoises. I think you were offended, too. Felt a tingle."

Anya: She actually giggled, without an ounce of embarrassment about the sound. It took effort to summon an appropriately scolding tone. Her smile refused to budge.

"Right! You think I meant somebody else? I'm the best vet, Rune. How do you not know this? Anyway, what's the problem with me being on call for the little tortoise?"

Rune: "Of course you are, and you live over an hour away. That's the problem." It was the human element, not the job, that gave him concern.

Anya: Ah. She nodded once, satisfied with that answer. She appreciated his concern, but dismissed it with a shrug.

"I don't mind. It's not very likely the little one will get sick. And if he does, I'd feel better if I'm the one to look him over."

There was reassurance in a patient being able to show you what they were feeling, and how they were being treated. She didn't really trust anyone else with the responsibility.

"Besides, if I'm here, I can see you."

Rune: If she had the godlike power to hear and feel and aid every animal on earth, there was no doubt in Rune's mind that she would. Not drunk with power, but a thirst for control. Trauma was a tricky thing.

Then again, he had no doubt she was always loving.

"How can I argue with that?"

Couples and groups alike were on their phones. Some using selfie sticks, others trading hands for posed photos. Two buskers played an acoustic guitar and djembe, trying to encourage someone from the crowd to make up silly lyrics. Just another day on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Anya: Anya smiled to see the performers. That was the beauty of the city. Of many cities, in fact. She thought again of her impromptu trip to New Orleans. If they had the time, she might've tried to coax Rune into a dance. She caught the tune and hummed quietly along as they passed, instead.

Her head tipped against his for a moment. "It's been way too long since we did karaoke."

The downside of moving as far from the thick of it as she had. There was a lot less to do, unless you enjoyed the great outdoors.

Rune: Those little touches meant everything to him. Not that he would say so out loud.

"Thought about taking you back. Might find another theme and Destiny waiting in the wings." His smile was brief and playful.

"I don't know of a karaoke bar near Hillkate, but a friend of a friend owns a nightclub in Dumbo, if you can swallow EDM."

Anya: She released an amused puff of air. "Maybe we'll crash a birthday or a retirement party, this time. Free cake."

Anya made a thoughtful little noise. Not the same as singing, but she'd always preferred to dance. "Hm. Sounds like fun. I haven't gone out-out in a while."

Rune: "Likewise." Not dancing, not since the '90s. They didn't need to talk about that. Arthur wasn't a presence in his everyday life. Neither was Aoi, or Thomas, or anyone else he intended to introduce. Such exclusivity was his bread and butter.

"We'll need some debauchery after talking to some nuns."

Anya: "Debauchery," she repeated, on the very precipice of a laugh. She'd need something more suitable to wear, but she'd worry about that when the time came.

"It's been even longer since I've been debauched."

She lost that battle against laughter, dragging her free hand down her face. "Can't wait."

Rune: "Hours?" No, he wasn't looking at her. That didn't count. Was a kiss on the lips by comparison to every fantasy.

But his arm was around her waist. He could say any excuse. The crowd, a suspicious man dressed in black and white, but he offered nothing, said nothing.

Anya: She'd turn to him, then. Her smile was pure affection, whether he could see it or not.

"No." Not that. That had been a sleepy expression of everything she'd kept buried for years. Totally didn't count.

Rune didn't need to make excuses for the touch. Anya didn't need one. She didn't question it. Only leaned into him as much as the situation allowed.

"How far past the bridge is your place?"

Rune: "Exactly one mile if we take Cadman." That had nothing to do with experience and everything to do with his magic, but that was neither here nor there.

He was still hung up on the fact that he was holding her.

"Why, tired?"

Anya: She shook her head. "Not yet. I'm just trying to get a feel for where I am. Your neighborhood."

Now that she was finally here. She wanted to commit all of this to memory.

Her mouth curved into a little smirk. "But if you want to carry me anyway, I'm not gonna say no."

Rune: The closer they got to the other side of the bridge the more he itched for a cigarette from his pocket. If not for having her in his arm, he would have. Hold habits clashing with new behaviors.

"I'll carry you through the threshold. Be patient."

But first came the school. If she was willing another mile on her feet, she would soon find herself surrounded by historical brownstone buildings. Some covered in ivy Rune would swear had been there since 1972.

Pollution was rampant no matter which borough a New Yorker called home (with maybe the exception of Staten Island), but there air was distinctly cleaner in Brooklyn Heights compared to the stifling blight that was Manhattan.

Across from a Greek Orthodox church, wrapped in the very ivy Rune mentioned, iron gate and walls painted in a childish mural, was the little private school.

"Last time Father Cyril saw me was some block party church function thing. I dunno. Raise money for the poor or whatever. Two years ago, I think."

Anya: "I am patient," she insisted, her smile playful. Anya was happy to wait. Her energy reserves weren't yet depleted.

In fact, her spirits were only bolstered the nearer they drew to the school. The verdant ivy put her at ease the way greenery so often did.

She smiled, imagining Rune at such a fundraiser. It was a sweet picture.

"So, you're overdue for a visit." Anya stepped back from him long enough to fasten more of the buttons on her stolen shirt and smooth down her hem.

"Is my dress too short? I can wrap this around my waist and just take the shawl."

Rune: "If you're worried. I'm not. Trust me when I tell you they've seen more out of this little blonde woman who picks up her daughter than you'll ever show. Works at one of those hostess club things, I think. Puts on a trench coat but then doesn't button it. Picture a woman in a black coat and pink glitter shawl, living her best life."

Anya: Anya nodded. "Right on. Good for her. I don't spend much time with priests. If you think this is fine, then so do I."

She double checked that she was cleavageless and took his face in both of her hands. The kiss she pressed to his lips was appropriately chaste.

"Ok. I'm ready when you are."

Rune: "It's the nuns you have to look out for," he whispered, winked. Oop, her hands found his face rather quickly after that. The kiss was a surprise, and, leaning forward an inch, managed to steal himself another before parting.

The school was brighter on the inside than the outside. Walls painted a sort of chartreuse, floors a sanitary-looking tile with a gold and brown carpet runner as old as the building neatly lining every available space. Antique desks and frames juxtapose new technology and a giant digital clock, its large red letters ticking away above the principal's office door.

Not every teacher was a nun by the shape of things, but no woman was without some degree of modesty, particularly in regards to hair, in variations of buns or braids. Men dressed in suits or polo shirts, and one enormously tall figure in a cassock paced in his office, talking to what one could assume was a speaker phone. It was the nurse, dressed in soft yellow scrubs, who greeted Rune with a smile.

"Where's the box that was here?" He asked, gesturing to an oak foyer table by the door, covered now in twenty little displays of business cards and brochures.

"Oh, women only have to wear shawls in the chapel, now." Her gaze turned to Anya, eying her outfit before reaching her eyes. "Hi, I'm Tammy."

And back to Rune.

"You know, you really should wait for after school hours. One of these days one of the parents is going to ask about you."

"I'm on school business today. Cross my heart." He pointed to the office. "How long has that been going on?"

"He hasn't sat down in, oh I dunno, twenty minutes."

"He's got a minute left."

So, to the barrel chairs outside of the office in desperate need of reupholstering.

Anya: Once again, she'd be keeping her hands to herself. She kept pace with Rune, though her gaze swept in vague interest over the interior, not lingering anywhere for very long. Her hair, at least, followed the norm. Not that Anya was overly concerned. Rune had given her the all clear.

She offered the nurse a polite smile, dutifully ignoring that assessing look. "Anya. It's nice to meet you."

With nothing else to contribute, she listened, and claimed a seat outside the office to wait. Her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands settled in her lap. She felt a bit like she was waiting to be reprimanded. "I know you said that you haven't seen the father in a couple of years," she began, when they were alone. "How often do you come here?"

Rune: Soon the exorcist was slumping in his seat. The atmosphere didn't reflect the same for him. Rather than reprimand, he was reminded of the last time he had sat in this very chair.

"He knows what I am. Knows a little about a lot. Keeps an ear out for the offbeat. Last time I was here was for a dead nun."

Why did that sound harsh out of his mouth?

Anya: "Oh." She could do little more than blink, for a moment. It didn't feel callus to her, but it certainly caught her off guard. That was the job, she supposed. Not pretty, but if he could help, then it was where he should've been.

"A baby tortoise will be... a change. A good one, I hope."

Rune: "I'd bet the coins in my pocket he'll say yes. Bet you the coat it'll have to go to a vote. I still like our odds."

Anya: Ha. Of course a bet. She didn't mask a smile. "You're on. What do you want if you're right?"

Rune: "You're gonna bet I'm wrong? You enjoy losing?"

Anya: "I enjoy playing." With him, that is. "And I don't mind losing."

Well. Not a lie, exactly, but she could clarify. "Not like that."

Rune: "You can't lose something as important as my coat. That's your house. Mm. No. I know what I want."

Anya: She wouldn't risk his coat. If she thought for a moment he would lose this silly bet, she'd never have agreed. Her head tilted, smile barely restrained.

"Yeah? What's that?"

Rune: "Can't say here. We're in a holy place."

Anya: "Ah." Her head dipped once. She bit the inside of her lip to dim that grin. "I'll take that bet."

Rune: "You're on, Madam Luck." And as much as he wanted to kiss on it, he would settle for a handshake. Had to make things official.

A salt and pepper head popped out from the office door. A feigned sober look swept the priest's features.

"How long?"

The corner of Rune's mouth twitched, rattling off years, months, days, hours, and minutes with perfect ease. This tickled the old man, expression dissolving into a smile.

"Come in."

Once more, Anya was studied, albeit with less criticism and more curiosity.

Anya: The title made her giggle, though she was certain she hadn't earned it. She gripped his hand firmly, adopting an expression that was so very serious until she cracked a grin.

She turned that smile toward the principal at the sound of the opening door. Neat trick.

Anya rose to her feet, doing as they'd been bid, following Rune through the door. She'd wait to take a seat until one was offered.

Rune: The offering would wait for Rune's introduction. Full name for Anya, meet Father Cyril. A question dangled on the tip of the priest's tongue. A hunter? A medium?

A veterinarian, said Rune, taking him aback.

"What brings you two into my office? It's not the coffee, lemme tell you." To which he raised the half-finished pot.

"That's self-flagellation."

"It's dark roast. Want some, dear?"

Anya: Given all that Rune had shared, the priest's surprise was understandable. Anya chuckled, deciding quickly that she liked the man. She tucked away that stubborn curl as she shook her head.

"No, thank you. Rune thought that your students might benefit from having a school pet. It sounded like a good idea, for the children and the animal. I wanted to see if that's something you'd be interested in for them. I was thinking a small tortoise, maybe. They're quiet, and wouldn't be disruptive. And I'd be happy to take care of the set up."

Rune: It seemed the good father was having difficulty processing what he'd heard. It was all so... wholesome. Hazel eyes found dark eyes, and he remembered the last time having looked upon his face.

What had happened in two years? This woman?

"A tortoise? Not a uh, a hamster, or a rabbit?"

Rune pointed from Cyril to Anya, saying nothing for a moment to swallow his smile.

"Trust her. She knows her animals."

"Ah... Hmm. I'll have to talk it over. Here. Write your information on - what is this? Oh! On this paper. I think it's a good idea. We had a bird years and years ago. I forget the type. Little yellow thing. Age took it one Sunday morning. Devastated the little ones."

Anya: Anya was happy to fill the momentary silence, shaking her head with a smile.

"Rabbits are skittish, and they really shouldn't be caged most of the time. And hamsters have a pretty short lifespan."

Her gaze shifted to Rune and back, lips twitching. "Mhm."

She leaned forward to slide the bit of paper closer. Nodding, she snagged a pen to begin scribbling down her name and contact information. Phone and personal email. And the sanctuary's number, just in case.

"I have a few birds of my own. They're the best, but they can be loud. The tortoise will be much quieter. And a decent size. Twenty five centimeters." She held up her hands, spaced just under ten inches apart.

"About the size of a dinner plate. And that's on the bigger end. The males are maybe half that size. They can live for decades."

Rune: "Oh, so, it'll outlive me." The priest chuckled, looking over her information from top to bottom. How in God's creation had a woman like this stitched her way into Suda Rune's life baffled him, but showed as little more than a second glance between them.

"You have a parrot at home you never told me about?"

"Oh yeah. Recites Psalms like you wouldn't believe."

His hands were held in surrender. "Just curious! It's... nice. Look at us, talking about something other than life and death and spiritually."

"Except for the mortality of animals."

"Well, except that."

Anya: "Me, too, probably." She was a stone's throw from thirty, after all. She shrugged. The longevity of tortoises was a selling point, in a place like this.

Anya masked a smile with her hand. If she was the cause of a refreshing change of pace, she could live with that.

"Well, the little tortoise will be around for a long time. If you say yes, I mean."

Rune: "I would say yes right now, but the world is full of policies, red tape, on and on. Have to send emails, have to have a staff meeting, have to vote - everyone will say yes, but we have to vote. There's gonna be that one student with a screeching parent. So, like any other day."

With Father Cyril's back turned, Rune pumped his first.

Anya: Anya refused to look at Rune. It was already a struggle to silence her laughter, but she managed. Her shoulders trembled with it. And the smile was in her voice as she spoke.

"I get that. There's definitely no rush. I can make time for set up and education when you're ready. I'll put together a care guide as well. Something suitable for the kids."

Rune: "Would you? That would be great. If any questions accumulate (and I know they will) I'll list them and forward them to your email. What's today... what's today... Mm. Yeah. We can have this all sorted and the little fella ready to meet his family in August."

"Sounds great," Rune cleared his throat.

Anya: August! Months away, but there was no real timeline. She could wait.

"Of course! Absolutely any questions you have. It's better to be over prepared than under prepared when you're dealing with an animal's life. Maybe you can put the name to a vote, too. It's what they do at the zoo."

Rune: "Good idea! It'll probably be a saint." Only a moment later did his eyes light up behind his heavy brows, looking directly at Rune.

"I know just the one. I'll add it to the list. Yes, yes. We've got Saint Francis, Saint Felix, Saint Anthony. There's someone else. I'm forgetting my saints..."

"Blasphemy," managed Rune with a straight face. "Basil and Gertrude. Cuthbert, Philip Neri, Melangell..."

"Where do you keep all of that?"

"I like saints."

Anya: Not Saint Felix. That name was hers. But, honestly, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to share a name with a sweet little tortoise.

Her smile bloomed bright and warm.

"I like Basil. And it's a fantastic name for a tortoise. I think it could work regardless of sex. Add that one to the list, for sure."

Rune: "She likes Basil, I like Gertrude. They both better be on the list. May the best name win."

"There will be no betting under this roof."

Rune's hands raised, mirroring Father Cyril's earlier gesture.

"We can't stay long. There's a storm above us and I'd rather be home."

Cyril sipped his coffee, eyes dodging between the two.

"Your shortest, sweetest visit yet. I haven't even got to meddle."

"Hold onto that for the next visit."

Anya: "Basil is clearly the superior tortoise name." An argument made in good humor, her smile widening. They could play their game in a more appropriate setting.

Anya's shoulders lifted. She liked the rain. But they'd done what they came to do, and she wouldn't overstay her welcome. Or answer questions that would make her blush. She smoothed her dress as she got to her feet.

"It was really nice to meet you. Please don't hesitate to call or email. I might not always be available, but I'll get back to you quickly."

Rune: "I'll have something for you by tomorrow if not the end of next week."

There would be no kissing the ring today. Not once had Cyril heard a confession beyond that of throwaway thoughts from the bloodstained exorcist. He had never sought this man's forgiveness; the only priest trusted with his clumsy soul was on his deathbed, waiting patiently for his last breath at Hillkate.

So the priest was given a dismissive wave before closing the door behind them, still seated behind his desk, staring again at Anya's piece of paper.

Rune's patience lasted the seconds it took to cross the street.

"No more panties the rest of the day."

Anya: "Sounds good! I'm free tomorrow, anyway."

The priest was offered a cheerful goodbye. Anya's smile lingered even as they left the building, silently grateful that it would be more-or-less the two of them until the morning.

Rune's words took her by surprise. Right. The bet. She no longer felt the need to stifle her chuckle. "Fair."

If he was expecting her to wait the block it would take them to get to his flat, he was mistaken. Gentle hands gripped his shoulders, maneuvering him between her and the street, her back to the nearest building. Fortunately, it was much quieter here than on the bridge. She still chanced a look in either direction before hooking her fingers into the elastic waist of her simple, cotton panties and wriggling them past her hips. Her dress kept her decent as she bent to step out of them. She straightened with a smirk, boldly tucking the fabric into one of the outer pockets of his coat. Better than a number scribbled on a napkin.

"Breezy. A deal's a deal. You know, we still have to stop by the florist. Unless you want to have them delivered."

Rune: Such a rare moment this was that Rune had no idea what was coming. He should have. The probability of her action should have been innate within him, but there was nothing. Just a slack-jawed look of raw befuddlement when he watched her, realized, and managed to pull himself together by the time she stepped out of his prize.

"Just when I think I know you," he smirked. He would leave it at that. Temptation was in his pocket. He wanted to feel their delicate texture, but opted for her hand instead.

"There's a flower shop four streets down. Haven't tired you out yet?"

Anya: "This was your game. I gambled and lost." She didn't sound even slightly disappointed by this outcome. The kiss she pressed to his cheek was incongruously sweet, and his hand was given that familiar squeeze. Not much longer.

"Not yet. But, honestly? I think I've maxed out on socialization with anyone but you, today."

The zoo, her old neighbor, the shop, the bridge, the school... She was beyond ready for it to be the two of them. But she simply would not meet his nuns tomorrow with empty hands. So, onward.

"What about you? It's been a long day."

Rune: "This is the most socialization I've had since our last date." His head lulled back with a sigh, their hands gently swung. "We could... sneak into my flat and sneak out tomorrow for the florist. Mm, not the worst idea I've had in thirty seconds."

Anya: "Is that what today has been? A very long date?" She gave a thoughtful little hum. It was a tempting idea. "We could. We'll have to get up pretty early."

Not a problem for Anya.

Rune: "Is that not what you'd call it?"

It was the word, date, that dawned on him. "You must be starving." And then, hesitation. "My fridge isn't stocked."

Anya: "Yeah. That's what I'd call it," she grinned. Anya hummed again. It had been hours. Her stomach wasn't the part of her body her mind was focused on, but upon further consideration...

"Mm. It's fine. We can order Doordash. Make it a night in."

Rune: That wasn't an app he was familiar with, but he got the gist. Something delivered. There was no shortage of restaurants nearby, even in this neighborhood.

"Then we're going home."

No more stalling. No extra errands to run. A part of him was already regretting this decision. Somehow, it would be this flat that revealed everything unspoken.

But still he continued. Down the narrow street and across the way. On a hill overlooking both the Brooklyn Bridge and Brooklyn Heights. One of the larger brownstone buildings, covered like so many buildings in the same ivy. Unlike the school, the lush greenery was on the side facing the road. A building ripe with history with nothing more than its timeless appearance.

"Welcome to Hillkate."

Anya: "Home," she agreed, tugging his hand a little closer. She was ignorant to his hesitation, eager to see the place he'd first told her about years ago.

Anya refused to carry any expectations with her as they walked, but there was an undeniable bounce to her step. It was his place. Well, one of them.

Her lips tipped up to see that ivy-covered building. The green was just as soothing here as it had been at the school. It was worlds better than the squat, ugly building she used to call home.

Her fingers tightened around his. "Finally."

Rune: The very same wards that protected Anya's home saturated Hillkate. Years and years of prayers and holy water, charm bags and holy relics. More than Rune's hand had touched the bricks with benevolent intent, but his influence was the most recent. They approached large double doors with twin lion knockers, and he wondered if she could feel the shift in the air as he opened them.

The spacious foyer hadn't seen an upgrade in design in some decades. Dated certainly, but could pass a white glove inspection. A brown and copper carpet runner led from the doors to the end of the hall, to a forgotten vintage Otis elevator chained and padlocked.

"Four apartments on each floor," Rune whispered, pointing to the nearest heavy oak to the left, 101. "That's my favorite nun." He then pointed to the furthest to the right. "My least favorite."

Up, and up, Someone's radio played in 204, but otherwise silent on the second floor. The third floor was even quieter than that. Unoccupied all save for 303, the only apartment with the crooked door.

They had made it this far; hesitation was finally absent as he turned the knob and pushed the door, no key required, only to turn and scoop Anya into his arms.

"Threshold, right?"

Into an apartment no different than that of a monk. No pictures on the wall, not a single decorative pillow, not even a dying flower in a broken vase. Only wood and brick and more brick, straight lines and stiff cushions. A single blue bucket chair pushed into a bamboo-colored table and blue geometric patterned flooring in the kitchen offered the only relief from the many shades of brown.

The bedroom was a full-sized bed with black sheets, a desk with a lamp, a dresser, and built-ins by the window. Books, a bronze cross, a ham radio, and a record player in the living room over the mantel were the only personal touches.

Anya: If there was a notable change as they entered the foyer of Rune's building, Anya was blind to it. She felt as secure in his presence as she always had.

Like the school, and the pawn shop before that, Anya studied the interior of the flat as they walked. Green eyes soaked in every detail. She kept her footsteps deliberately light. They were supposed to be sneaking, after all. But it seemed that Rune was correct about the nuns being early to bed. The halls were comfortably quiet. Definitely not the sort of place where the neighbors threw ragers.

Her mouth gave the slightest tilt up at the corners as he offered his information in hushed tones. She looked forward to putting faces to the closed doors they passed.

She took all of it in, in silence. A silence broken with the bubble of laughter that escaped her as Rune swept her off of her feet. She quickly muffled the sound with her hand, though she hadn't seen a single person on their journey to the top floor.

As keenly observant as she'd been in the quiet halls, she was far more so once they were in his unit proper. Not that there was much to take in. The space was a stark contrast to the quasi-bohemian design of her little house. Not so much as a plant to breathe life into the space. He'd called it more a haven than a home. Small, but it held all of the necessities. She could see him staring at the bare walls all too easily.

Perhaps he found the emptiness calming. No clutter to set him on edge after... whatever darkness he'd witnessed. Her house must have felt like chaos in comparison.

She said nothing for a long moment. Her gaze lingered with interest on his collection of books. On the single chair in the kitchen.

"Quiet," she said, finally. She meant more than the lack of audible noise. "You don't bring many people here, do you?"

Rune: He had expected silence walking through the door. By the time Anya was brought to her feet in the bedroom, he had fully expected her to meander her way back to the front door, whether intentionally or subconsciously.

Just one word and he was laughing. Knuckles covered his smile, hip against the desk.

"It's had more foot traffic than anywhere else. I don't need... I don't need burdens here." What he meant to say, was he didn't need someone looking at a photograph of her and thinking they had leverage. No charms, no valuables to be stolen or hexed. Nothing of value but clothes and vinyl records.

"Maybe someday you can see Willemstad."

Anya: His laugh was unexpected. It was impossible not to smile at the sound of it. Now that she'd given the flat a solid once-over, Rune had every ounce of her attention.

"Burdens," she repeated, softly. A strange word for the kinds of trappings that made a house a home. But then, Anya only had the one place.

Her smile broadened at his suggestion. "I'd like that."

Someday. When they both had the time. And certainly after she made her trip back to Poland.

No, that wasn't a thought for today. She dropped her bag onto his desk. It was tantamount to settling in, without any more belongings to shed. Anya wasn't going anywhere.

"Hungry?"

#day in new york #day in new york part two #rune #anya #sicklysweetnothings

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