#elect from the four winds

[scripture-pictures]

[dadsbongos]

dungeon meshi gave me an excuse to write clone porn

2.6 k words / warnings - readers have boobs and vagina, oral (laios + reader receiving), thigh fucking, porn without plot like none at all, not proofread + written while sleep deprived

summary - on your honeymoon, you and laios have a special kind of shapeshifter encounter

~~~

“Who keeps two towels in the whole house?” you grumble, pulling on the shoes you’d kicked off just minutes ago.

“Like I said, they probably keep some in the shed,” Laios is directly behind you, shoes on and wired to step outside, “Vacation houses out here are rare, but their sheds are more useful for storage than farming tools.”

“Still, did they not think to prepare a little more?” your frustration is not so easily tempered, “They knew a king was coming, didn’t they?”

“I’m sure they did,” Laios opens the front door for you, ushering you outside, “Marcille seemed pretty sure she set this up nicely for us. It’s just a short walk around the back, I could go by myself if you want to finish showering?”

His suggestion makes you sigh, you shake your head, huddling closer to him as chilled wind scathes your damp skin, “I’m just annoyed, it’s nothing for me to be so hostile about… Sorry for losing my mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he smooches the crown of your head and ventures around the house. You chase after, having to keep a hand dragging along the wall to avoid tripping.

“Laios!” you wail, unable to make him out with gray clogging your whole vision, “Laios!”

“Yeah?” you slam into his chest, letting out a muted ‘oomf!’ at the impact.

“It’s so foggy out here,” you grumble.

“It is, guess I forgot how terrible it could be.”

“Dunno how you could forget anything like this.”

Laios groans in irritation at the weather, blindly reaching out until he’s got a hand on your shoulder. Once he’s certain of your position, he reaches out again, “Here, take my hand, I don’t want you to get separated from me.”

You take the hand extended and let Laios tug you towards the shed. By the time you’re inside and the hanging overhead lantern is lit, a sudden discovery is made.

There are two extra bodies among you. You hold one Laios, and the Laios across from you holds the hand of your copy.

A gasp echoes through the room, distinctly Laios-like in passion.

Seems a monster has crossed your paths.

One Laios is taller, a mere two inches, and you think if you really stare that same Laios’ chest is slightly bigger too. He’s also smiling, beaming really, right off the bat while the second Laios’ excitement is more contained to shaking hands and meek giggles. To be fair to both, they thought they’d never see a monster again so you let the strange giddy slide.

However, your duplicate is scary in how precisely Laios remembers you. Your hair is a bit bouncier and lips more glossy than current, but she’s undeniably accurate. Its legs, the swell of its breasts, the mold of its waist -- almost as though you’re gazing through a mirror.

“This would probably be easier if it wasn’t just us,” you think aloud, looking at the two Laioses only to see them poking and prodding at one another.

“They don’t seem too keen on figuring out which is which,” your copy mumbles, earning a glare from you.

“It’s a shapeshifter!” the slightly shorter Laios (who you’re now electing to dub Laios A) shouts, “I haven’t seen one of these in forever! I thought I never would again!”

The other one, Laios B, nods and yanks Laios A’s hair experimentally, then groping his bicep, “It really feels just like I do! Soft, but firm skin and the hair texture’s exactly right!”

As if thinking in sync, the pair slowly turn towards the yous. Four hands turn unto you both to squeeze and roll down the planes of your body. Or, bodies, considering they’re petting down your copy as well.

“Practically identical!” Laios A squeals, kissing your cheek then your copy’s, “Even the plumpness of their cheeks feel the same!”

“Glad you’re having fun,” your dupe cuts in, “but shouldn’t we try getting rid of the fakes before they get rid of us?”

Oh, that little wench.

“Let Laios have fun,” you smack its arm, “You should know this is rare for him now.”

“That attitude’s terrible! He could die if we keep messing around!” it glares at you with an accusatory finger-wag, “I bet you want us to waste time, you fake!”

“You’re the fake, you fake!”

Laios A has to restrain you with both arms around your waist -- while Laios B does the same for your shifter -- to prevent you from knocking a fist into its stupid, fake face.

“There’s gotta be a way to figure out which ones the real one without breaking into fights,” Laios B fusses, hugging the shifter tighter to soothe her. Which, in turn, only agitates you more because what if that Laios is the real one, and he’s in horrible danger holding that monster?!

“We can’t just cut ourselves open,” Laios A’s chest reverberates at your back, then his hand skims down the front of your stomach, fingertips dipping just beneath your waistband, “But maybe we could tell each other’s behaviors apart some other way…”

“Oh, so it’s like that?” you tilt your head back to stare up at Laios A.

He nods, terminally serious despite the pinkish hue trailing from his cheeks to his neck, “It’s like that,” he then darts his eyes between you and your copy, “Can we?”

The real question seems to be: can you two get along for now?

Are you so devoted to Laios that you’re willing to play nice with something so grating?

You sigh and reach up to cup Laios A’s cheek, “Yeah, we can.”

Both Laioses rush to undo the tie of their trousers, only to be stopped by you and your copy -- the two of you falling onto your knees, creeping hands under Laios’ shirt and beneath his pants.

Yanking the soft material down to unveil thick thighs, Laios A above you gasps quietly at the cool air brushing his exposed skin. Your lips climb the meat of his leg, noting that Laios B’s thighs are looking a little rounder. Not that it matters, you’ll gladly bite and suck both.

Fingers dancing along the apple of your cheek redirect your attention, Laios A’s face tinged crimson. You smooch the bone of his hip, nails scaling along the back of his thighs to pull him closer. Beside your face, his cock hardens, color deepening towards his mushroom tip; he keens for more attention, unintentionally smearing leaky precum over your face as his erection twitches. You smooth a thumb along his underside before chastly pecking the weepy head.

Laios B’s hands strip your copy’s shirt, lifting it to paw at its breasts. He kisses down the column of its neck before reaching out for you as well. Rising onto your feet, you run your hands up Laios B’s back to shirk off his top -- Laios A awkwardly lingering behind your clone. His hands find the waistband of its pants, snaking beneath the lip to plunge into its panties.

You press a kiss to Laios B, he doesn’t turn to return the affection, but you recover quickly by pulling down both you and your duplicate’s bottoms. Laios A’s neck cranes over your copy’s shoulder to snatch your lips for himself. Laios B’s hands warm and calloused from labor as they careen up your waist to rid you of your shirt as well. He sucks a violet array from your shoulder to jaw, grinding his turgid girth between your thighs -- your wetness welcoming him.

Laios A moans at the sight of himself thrusting along your soaked slit, fingers quickening inside your copy until its own slick is rolling towards the floor. While Laios B releases muted groans and puffs into your ear.

“Need to be inside you,” Laios A whines, kissing your copy’s lips before striding past all three of you towards the center of the room. Laios B and you tilt to watch him.

Laios A quickly flattens his back against the floor, cobblestone acclimating to his rising body heat, he pulls you down by the waist -- then beckoning your copy via wave. One of his hands cradles your waist while the other smoothes along your copy’s thigh. Silently urging it to kneel over his face, all while his twitching cock bobs toward the apex of your thighs.

“Want to know if here’s the same, too,” Laios A murmurs into your dupe’s thighs, sharply jerking his hips towards yours.

Suddenly, large hands are burrowing into the thicket of your hair, swerving your eyes to Laios B. Your tongue lulls in time with your copy, lips brushing hers around the base of Laios B’s flushed head. Needily, he mushes your faces together, thrusting between the wet cavern of your mouths. Hands just as soft as yours slither beneath you to work Laios A inside you. Laios A snaps his knees up, feet on the floor, to aid your copy’s effort. His hips buck up, punching air from your chest as he pops into your hole.

A louder mewl slithers past your copy’s lips, Laios A’s tongue lathering its slit before pausing at its clit, bathing the bud in extra attention. His thumbs splay it open just for easier access to tongue-fuck. Meanwhile, your sleepy bouncing rhythm is interrupted by abrupt, sharp humping throwing you off balance. The only reason you don’t fall over is Laios B stubbornly holds your head still, fucking the sodden gap between yours and your clone’s faces; otherwise leaving you to your own devices. You manage to catch yourself on Laios A’s chest, firm muscles flexing beneath your palms with his throaty hums and whimpers of pleasure.

Your tongue clashes with your clone’s -- soft and wet and warm.

Pulling both your heads back, Laios B rearranges you so your clone is left squealing around his balls while he slaps the meaty weight of his cock on your tongue. Sliding toward the back of your throat, his face flushes as he hungrily coaxes your head further down. Until your molten cheeks meet the protrusions of his pelvic bones.

A hand bigger than yours (though smaller than the one in your hair) rests on your flexing tummy, pressing against the bulging evidence of which Laios is inside you. Laios A groans at the feeling, and you quickly fumble your hand over his, pressing harder with a delighted gasp that ends in a gag and choke. Their sizes are indecipherable, and if the mood were different you could almost be ashamed by how perverted it makes you seem.

Laios B throws his head back as your throat spasms around his tip, lip cinched between his teeth and brows furrowed. He forces your head side-to-side, reveling in the bend of your muscles shifting to accommodate his dick. Laios A, however, stretches his hand (a little uncomfortably) so his thumb can swish messily against your clit. Your volume grows, quickly overpowering both Laios B and your own duplicate. Spurring Laios A to hasten, jostling you with his powerful drilling paired with stimulating your clit.

The other hand of Laios A has found one of your clone’s tits, squeezing and padding the nipple with his thumb. She’s grinding down against his nose, hips jumping and muffled mewls just barely scratching past its lips into the sensitive sack of Laios B’s balls. Spit gurgling down its chin, drying against its breasts and Laios A’s hand.

Drool steadily pools at the pucker of your own lips, pushed out everytime B shoves in -- saliva splatters his hips, dripping down his thighs and soaking his base as well as your entire lower face. The quicker he fucks your face, the sloppier and wetter it gets. Which is certainly in character for Laios.

But so is the way the one on his back is staving off his burgeoning orgasm to make sure (both of) you finish first. Something he always tries.

Laios A’s hips snap up firmly, crooking up into you midair, deep as possible to ensure all his cum is milked by your cunt. He moans into your clone’s cunt, now content to let his tongue hang out as it fucks his face -- his hand still squishing its tit.

Yet something he always fails.

Laios usually cums before you, but he’s also got the stamina to soldier on until you drop.

Determined, Laios swirls your clit, fevered thrusts slowing to meet your bouncing on his cock. Another slush of saliva oozes past your lips, lubing the shapeshifter as you cry around its erection. Laios fucks you through your orgasm, evidently loving how cum spews from your weeping cunt -- leaking down his cock, over his nuts, and spilling onto the cobblestone below.

Faux Laios spits cum down your throat with a few final aggressive jerks. Your clone is the last, and the quietest, shy huffs scarcely audible between skin on skin and both you and Laios’ noisy crooning.

The shapeshifters tumble off, thoroughly exhausted, and you fare no better collapsing into Laios’ chest. He leisurely jabs the last of your energy from you before pulling out altogether. Sweetly pecking your forehead, Laios murmurs something you don’t quite catch before he rises -- still naked -- to drive off the imposters.

Snagging both by the back of their necks, Laios herds the pair towards the back wall, then scooping you up to carry towards the main house. Once your doppelgangers are locked outside, Laios can focus on getting you in bed.

You pinch the juncture of his neck, yawning into his chest, “Clothes…”

“I know, I know,” he slumps against the door upon getting inside, laying his head over yours -- eyes fluttering with drowsiness as soon as he crosses into the master bed, “I’ll go back when the shapeshifter’s dealt with. You brought more clothes, right?”

You nod clumsily. Then peek at him through heavy lashes, “How do you know I’m the right one anyway?”

(you trust him to know which you was which, you just want him to bask in this)

Laios grins, visibly excited to share as he slips you beneath the sheets, “You’re always loud when we have sex, so I knew the version of you trying to be quiet couldn’t be it. And it was too shy about sitting on my face -- we’ve been together a while so you should be used to it by now,” his expression grows somehow brighter before disappearing from your sight, voice lively from the bathroom, “Could you tell which me was me?”

“Mhm,” you wait for him to return with a damp washcloth before mumbling your own reasoning, “The other one was too rough, kept shovin’ my head. And he never kissed me,” you fling a hand out, and Laios moves his head so your palm lands on his cheek, “Which was very unlike you.”

“You’re so smart,” he muses, shifting to kiss your palm before lacing his free hand with yours and retucking it in bed so he can properly clean the mixed cum between your thighs. Then, suddenly, he’s frowning.

“Aw, what’s wrong?”

“This might actually be my last time seeing a monster, unless it's a corpse Izutsumi brings me…”

“Poor baby,” you’ll never understand his fascination -- monsters are deadly and terrible and most are ugly as sin, but you’re useless to denying Laios anything so you always indulge him, “You could sing me the mermaids’ song, would that help you feel better?”

Laios sits up straighter, finishing cleaning you off, “Can I sing to the end? I never get to finish it.”

“Of course, you can.”

Quiet, hysterical giggles leave Laios’ mouth as he slides into bed beside you, hugging you into his chest before clearing his throat to begin singing.

(you have to keep pinching yourself awake to actually let Laios finish the song before falling asleep, but his grateful little kisses on your hairline are enough thanks)

[yuri-alexseygaybitch]

That person blocked me but the "reality" is AOC is a comprador socdem who has spent the last four years retreating from every "progressive" platform she was elected on and gleefully collaborating with Genocide Joe ("most successful president in US history") whilst being a fucking bag in the wind on Palestine and crying about having to vote for the fucking Iron Dome. The only reason she has to be at Columbia is to mollify the protestors firstly and boost her own career secondly. She's a fucking joke.

[wasabi-gumdrop]

thinking about modern au Kabru

ivy league college student, probably studying law and political science on a full scholarship. first time living away from Milsiril so he has to promise her, yes mom i’ll call you at least four times a week, no mom i don’t need your amex black card, yes mom the normal credit card is fine i need to learn how to budget like a Normal Person (it has a limit of $20k — that’s not normal Kabru).

Milsiril insists for a long time that she’ll just get him a house off campus so he can have his own space (aka a place she can drop by anytime and possibly live a few months out of the year just to be close to him) but Kabru puts his foot down and tells her the best way he’s gonna make friends is by living with other students (bye mom).

his floor in the coed dorms is the party floor and he always makes sure to invite everybody (his nightmare is accidentally leaving anyone out and having them think that he doesn’t like them). somehow it’s always a good time, everyone leaves with more friends than they came with, it never gets totally out of control, and plenty of girls who are interested in him (and a lot of guys too tbh) bring tons of baked treats so there’s always free food. Kabru is the RA’s favourite person to have in the building (even though Kabru himself is messy but most of the people he’s friends with are nice and clean up after themselves).

he has a porsche (Milsiril gift for his 16th bday) but he’s adamant about not driving it unless he absolutely has to (because he doesn’t wanna look like a douche). BUT he never says no when his friends ask for rides (so he ends up driving all the time anyway). he actually contemplates selling the porsche and going for a more practical car but Mickbell is like ‘dude you are not taking this away from me.’ Kabru sighs and decides to keep it because his friends (Mickbell) like being chauffeured around in a fancy convertible (Rin, Holm, and Dia don’t care, they’re just glad they don’t have to walk to the grocery store).

he’s probably on a casual texting basis with most of his professors and you know he’s going to all their office hours, grabbing beer with them just to keep chatting about life outside of school. and that’s how he winds up in some super secret faculty group chat where he’s now privy to all the college administration gossip.

Kabru is elected for student council during his freshman year and he’s probably the favourite to be sc president one day.

he doesn’t really date (gets too in his head about how he doesn’t wanna ruin any friendships) but he does hang out one on one with a lot of girls and treats them all really well. he probably goes so far out of his way to be platonic that he flies a little too close to the ‘Just Like One of the Girlies’ sun, he kinda forgets that most people interpret it as flirting coming from him. which leads to a few awkward conversations. people feeling led on, a few angry jealous boyfriends, scathing dms about him being a girl stealing homewrecker.

it’s such a nightmare for him and he needs it to end right now. so he begs Rin to ‘date’ him for a week or two and then publicly dump him just so the entire student body gets the message that he is Just A Friend.

Rin stares at him for a few seconds. then she laughs. she laughs and laughs. she laughs for a crazy long time. and then eventually she goes, ‘wow you’re an asshole, Kabru. no i won’t be your fake girlfriend. you’re gonna suffer and i’m going to enjoy it.’

and that’s when Kabru has a moment of enlightenment. ok yeah. asking for that is probably really selfish and mean. maybe he needs to think about girls’ feelings more and that’s maybe more important than his deep seated need to be liked, and when has Rin ever been wrong about anything.

he apologizes. and so begins one of the more serious talks he’s ever had with Rin about being okay with not being liked.

he thinks he can really turn over a new leaf. the whole ‘not worrying about what other people think’ thing goes pretty well — up until Kabru meets the aloof professor for his Monsters and Myths class who keeps forgetting and mispronouncing his name.

Kabru has never needed someone to like him So Bad, he needs Prof. Touden to like him as a matter of life and death, and he’s willing to look stupid for it (fails a midterm on purpose to justify begging for one on one tutoring)

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll. 

The other twenty-two are, though. 

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it. 

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums. 

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.” 

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?” 

He bristles. “You…!” 

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time. 

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap. 

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?” 

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query. 

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss. 

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.” 

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?” 

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch. 

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.” 

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.” 

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments. 

You both elect to ignore her. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?” 

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away. 

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.” 

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck. 

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.” 

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey. 

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease. 

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.” 

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.” 

“I never needed one before.” 

A glass shatters violently. 

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath. 

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.” 

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.  

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’ 

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly. 

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew. 

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you. 

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether. 

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged. 

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again. 

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you. 

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.” 

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement. 

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it. 

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede. 

You have to stand on your own strength. 

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago. 

You grumble a few choice words. 

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.” 

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods. 

And so the three of you part ways. 

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office. 

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially. 

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond. 

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist. 

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.” 

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong. 

“Who will be there?” Blade asks. 

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality. 

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.” 

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps. 

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?” 

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.” 

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone. 

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic. 

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment? 

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?” 

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.” 

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely? 

“What do you consider a sin?” 

“Anything that defies the natural order.” 

“Such as…?” 

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over. 

“Defying death.” 

“Not inflicting it?” 

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.” 

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity. 

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption? 

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper. 

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.” 

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.” 

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature. 

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys. 

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. 

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.” 

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.” 

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting. 

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan. 

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?” 

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.” 

“Hm.” 

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that. 

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds. 

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary. 

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not. 

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back. 

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression. 

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply. 

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous. 

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. 

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world. 

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks. 

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”  

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.” 

“Have an underling do it.” 

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.” 

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence. 

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.” 

You rise to your feet. 

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…” 

What have I sacrificed my freedom for? 

Blade’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.” 

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes. 

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter. 

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready. 

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received. 

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again. 

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too. 

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump. 

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?” 

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better. 

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?” 

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament. 

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”  

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!” 

(It sounded better in your head). 

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?” 

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground. 

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end. 

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished. 

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness. 

The planet itself is frozen for a time. 

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon. 

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire. 

Then the screaming begins. 

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind. 

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes. 

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone. 

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?” 

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus. 

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. 

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin. 

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops. 

The dark swath — that’s Blade. 

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely. 

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch. 

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive? 

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold… 

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed. 

Unless he chose to shield you. 

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions. 

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are. 

Blade stirs. 

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it. 

Or so is your conviction until he moves again. 

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position. 

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket. 

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place. 

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand. 

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks. 

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid? 

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause. 

“If you can’t speak, point instead.” 

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy. 

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short. 

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision. 

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone. 

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest. 

“It’s not my priority,” he says. 

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches. 

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated. 

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye. 

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework. 

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights? 

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle. 

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later. 

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded. 

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop. 

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated. 

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle. 

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second? 

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress. 

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out. 

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts. 

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate. 

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks. 

An invisible force hauls you back. 

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader. 

You blink and you’re back in reality. 

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you, 

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.” 

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet! 

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against. 

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…? 

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.” 

The sentence has been delivered. 

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber. 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I've been thinking about this for a while. May I request Kerian battling a "snow on Mt. Silver" Reader? Reader was the strongest trainer at Blueberry academy and champion of the BB league until they willingly handed off the title to Drayton and climbed to the highest point in the polar biome to wait for a strong challenger. Kerian, upon becoming champion, gets wind of them and decides to battle them. Things go bad quickly as reader is a ghost/corpse. Kerian does get rescued but is traumatized.

Oh this is a GOOD concept,,,give him that near-death trauma waaaaay before he even learns about terapagos

Also ik the weather conditions in the terarium are all simulated, but let's just say it malfunctioned and resulted in an actual blizzard at the very peak of the polar biome that killed reader + their Pokémon off (yet no one knows this)

......

"Have you heard from [y/n] lately, Drayton?"

"Nope. Last time I checked, they're still chilling at the Polar Biome peak, waiting for a "worthy challenger"."

"Was that pun intended?"

"...maybe, haha. But y'know, I kinda miss seeing their face around campus. I mean..they were our club's first champion, and to this day I still don't know why they handed the title over to me and bailed on-"

"Hold on, there was a champion before you and...you didn't even fight them for the title? No wonder I was able to beat you so easily."

"Oh great, just the person I hoped to see." With a dry chuckle, Drayton turned his head only slightly upon seeing Kieran approaching the clubroom's table with a deep scowl, eyes bleak.

Of course, the new champion of BB Academy believed he had every right to barge into the Elite Four's conversations--given he was having a bit of a "power trip" ever since gaining the title yesterday.

But the dragon trainer elected to ignore him, instead turning back to the others. "Anyways..I'm sure [y/n]'s already moved onto better things. No way could they still be up there after all that weird stuff happened with the weather."

"You mean..the time there was an actual blizzard in the terarium??" Lacey gasped, before shaking her head and making an "x" pose. "Bzzzt. Nope. Impossible. They sent a search and rescue team in case anyone in the outdoor classroom got stranded up there. And they didn't find a soul!"

"Yeah!" Crispin nodded in agreement. "I get they were the strongest trainer in this entire school, but why would they risk-?"

"I'm sorry, they're the strongest? Why am I only hearing about this [y/n] now?"

With a small yelp, he turned to the purple-haired boy. "Wah!! I-I totally forgot you were here, sorry.." He mumbled, slightly cowering under his harsh gaze. "Obviously you're the strongest! [Y/n]'s not important..d-don't worry about them. They're history-"

"But you all seem pretty convinced they're still here." Kieran's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the group. "And you just told me where I might find them." He clenched his fists, already shaking with anticipation.

"Easy there, champ.." Drayton huffed in annoyance. "It's only a rumor that they're still hanging around. They weren't much of a talker, so we have no clue where they are. Could be in another region for all we know."

"..........."

"Don't tell me....you're thinking about charging up that mountain all by yourself to see if they're there, are you? That's suicide."

"I have to agree with Drayton." Amarys nodded. "The staff is still trying to determine the cause of the anomalous weather patterns. We aren't banned from venturing up there, but until they can find a solution, it's ill-advised."

"Exactly!" Lacey joined in. "I heard one of the rescue team members had to get treated for frostbite. And it wasn't from some ice-type Pokémon, but the blizzard itself. This is serious, Kieran!"

"....I'll be fine. Your scare tactics won't work on me."

"Huh?! But we're not-"

"Enough. I'm gonna go find them myself, seeing as you're all too cowardly to do so." The champion sneered. "If a worthy challenger is what they're after, then I'll give them one. I'll let them know there's a new champion in town..and that he's the strongest trainer in this academy. Not them."

With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, mumbling under his breath things that made the four feel uneasy.

"How pathetic. The Elite Four..scared of a little snow and ice? Whatever. I'll show them. I'll show [y/n]. I'll show them ALL..."

After the doors slammed shut behind him, they felt the tension still lingering in the air--as did every other club member who was hanging out on the sofas and by the BP computer.

"Man." Drayton broke the silence, sitting up to stretch his arms. "That kid catches wind of some random stranger who's just a little stronger than him, and boom. He's obsessed. Hope he doesn't get himself killed up there."

"Should one of us go after him?" Lacey muttered in concern, her gaze not leaving the doors.

"I-I think that would make him angrier.." Crispin shook his head. "He's got an Incineroar, so maybe it'll keep him toasty."

"That is true. He could also either confirm or deny [y/n]'s presence atop that mountain." Amarys spoke up. "I only hope he properly prepares himself for the long journey..and that no other weather anomalies arise.."

..........

"They weren't kidding..i-it's freezing...but we're doing this, Incineroar."

"Cinn.." Huffing, the Heel Pokémon remained beside its trainer as the two made their ascension towards the summit. They couldn't see any rest spots nor healing centers below them due to the snowfall being so heavy.

Even the teraglobe was barely visible.

Yet Kieran was persistent as ever in his goal, keeping his jacket zipped up and Incineroar close to him. He didn't care about the fact his hands were already growing numb, nor the cold biting at his legs leaving them weak.

He was the new champion. He had to let everyone in this school know and defeat whoever could threaten the position he worked so hard to achieve.

If not [Florian/Juliana]..then it was you.

You're someone he's never even met, but knowing you were the very first BB League champion and had a big-enough ego to come up here and wait for a strong challenger...was something he couldn't turn a blind eye to.

No.

Not if he wanted to be the best in this entire school and eliminate any competition.

Absolutely nothing was gonna stop him.

Not even the fact that his Incineroar's flames were struggling to stay alive, gradually exhausting the feline as it struggled to keep up. It began having chills itself, although it knew better than to disobey its trainer when he demanded to keep the fire going.

Surely it can tough it out for him, right?

After what seemed like an eternity, Kieran finally reached the top of the mountain and saw you: the lone figure waiting for them both. Much of the snowfall had already cleared up allowing him to see you in a cap that concealed your eyes and a BB Academy uniform.

You were looking at something up in the sky, until you heard the sounds of shuffling and turned around, looking down with surprise at the challenger.

This kid...came up all this way to see you? Impressive.

His Incineroar looked a little worse for wear, the flames around its belt dying out, yet it stuck close to its trainer's side as he stared at you with a cold hard gaze.

"Are you [y/n], former BB League Champion?" He questioned.

"........."

"Not much of a talker, huh? Guess they were right. I'm Kieran, or better yet..Champion Kieran."

Although you barely gave a response aside from a slight tilt of your head, he just smirked. "Yeah, you heard me. I'm the new champion and president of the League Club, not that dumb dragon tamer. Because unlike him, I worked hard to earn this title. I don't wait around for things to be handed to me on a silver platter."

".........."

"You think being champion is a joke? Something you can just pawn off to somebody when you get bored of it?"

"........."

"I thought so. That means you never deserved the title to begin with.." He scoffed, irritated by your silence. "Anyway, they said you were the strongest, but I'm here to change that!" Pointing up at you, he shouted over the wind. "You wanted a worthy opponent..well HERE I AM!!! Incineroar, Porygon-Z...show them the power of a true BB League Champion!!"

He took out his Virutal Pokémon's pokeball, ready to send it into battle.

But it didn't come out after he tossed it to the ground.

"...huh?" Confused, Kieran picked up the pokeball, wondering why it wasn't opening. Then he noticed frost coating the button, practically icing it over entirely. "No, no, no.....what is this?!"

For some reason it was jammed, and he discovered that all the other pokeballs in his bag were like that, too, rendering them inaccessible.

But how?

It shouldn't be possible for all of them to freeze simultaneously...their insulation should be top-tier.

Brushing off his worries, he glared at you. "Whatever. I can win a single-battle, too! I've developed strategies for this. Incineroar, it's all up to you now"

Nodding, the Heel Pokémon cracked its knuckles and stepped forward. But as it looked at you, it began shivering all of the sudden, feeling a drastic drop in temperature as the flames on its belt struggled still.

It wasn't just the weather giving it chills..but you.

Something about you just seemed...off, but it couldn't exactly tell its trainer what that was. Nor would he probably care.

Whether it liked it or not, it had to win this battle.

Wordlessly, you stepped down so you could fight on equal ground and took out a single pokeball. It was covered in frost, with much of the red paint faded, and it looked awfully damaged--especially the button.

Yet somehow it was functional as you sent out your first Pokémon.

And the sight of it was so grisly, Kieran felt genuinely nauseated, unable to do anything except stare in shock.

"Wh...What the..."

It appeared as a sickly frostbit creature, with its colors dull and empty sockets in place of its eyes. Not to mention the heavy wounds littering its body, which seemed fresh. It's like you ran out of healing items and never bothered to look for any more.

And its cry was pained.

Considering how much Kieran himself loved and treasured Pokémon, he was gravely concerned and had second thoughts about fighting one in such a horrible state...

But that little voice in his head told him that refusing to fight your team would make him look weak. You'd probably think he was weak for backing down.

And he refused to do that.

Why was he suddenly so afraid? You were only trying to scare him, just like everybody else...and he was fed up with that.

He came this far. He had to finish this.

"You...think your Pokémon can battle in that condition? Looks like they can barely stand." His eyebrows furrowed. "No matter. Once I beat you, I'll take them off your ha-"

"Struggle."

A hoarse whisper escaped your lips, stunning him as he realized you could actually speak. But then your Pokémon suddenly threw itself at Incineroar, attacking and taking a good deal of recoil damage as it fainted soon afterwards.

Or rather...

It simply dropped to the ground and ceased all motions, with you making no move to recall them. Instead you just sent out your next party member.

Kieran tried not to think about why they did that, and just scoffed at your strategy. "Really? This is what the "strongest" trainer is capable of? I expected better..I'll beat you in no time at all."

Yet you didn't seem fazed by anything he said, as you commanded your Pokémon to use Struggle, too.....and every other one after that did the same thing.

What frustrated him the most was how they all managed to outspeed Incineroar, forcing it to endure every hit without getting a chance to retaliate. It felt so unfair, and he couldn't do anything except sit and watch, feeling his blood boiling more with each passing second.

He didn't know why you exhausted all of your team's moves, why you wouldn't give him a chance to strike back....or why you're even up here at all and allowed them to get this bad.

But he knew one thing.

He wanted to get off this mountain soon.

The snowfall was growing heavier again, the howling wind picking up as the temperature kept dropping.

"Stop! Just stop for a second!!" He snapped as you readied your final pokeball. All you did was pause and stare at him. "You haven't given me a chance to attack yet! And I'm locked out my pokeballs...this isn't fair! You're cheating!!"

"..it's almost over."

He tensed, wondering why you spoke those words so ominously. But he took that as an insult and scowled. "For me? No...it's almost over for you. You're down to your last Pokémon..and I still have all of mine. I'm putting an end to this pathetic "struggle strategy" of yours right now."

".........."

"What a joke this was. Everyone says you were the strongest trainer..but you're just another obstacle in my way."

Hearing that saddened you a little, almost making you regret what you're about to subject this hapless champion to next...but you will end this one way or another.

You couldn't tolerate his arrogance any longer.

Your final Pokémon's appearance completely wiped the smug look on Kieran's face, as his eyes widened upon seeing a Pikachu in the most horrific condition--one that didn't look anything like the others on your team.

Its fur was totally white with a layer of frost coating it; and it was missing a leg, ear, and part of its tail...as though something had torn and chewed at various sections of its body. And its wounds exposed its muscle and bones, yet somehow it was still able to stand on its own.

But the most terrifying thing was its lack of a cutesy smile typical to its species. Instead there was this creepy grin stretching from ear-to-nonexistent-ear. And it just stared at him with those pitch black eyes, giggling.

His hands shook with genuine fear, before he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Yet both of you were still there when he looked, ready for battle.

Suddenly he didn't feel so high and mighty right now. His heart pounded and his throat felt dry, eyes stinging from the cold.

He felt as though he wasn't supposed to be here.

He shouldn't be here.

He didn't want to do this anymore.

He wanted to go home.

It was so cold...

But he needed to finish this.

"I-Incineroar, use-"

"Pain Split."

'Wait...Pikachu can learn that?!' His eyes widened in shock, but at the same time he was relieved you finally did something new-

Only for your Pikachu to screech and attack his Pokémon with that move, biting into its arm and causing the latter to roar in agony. He could only watch, horrified as blood splattered all across the snow.

By the time he managed to recall Incineroar, it had already fainted from the attack.

However your Pikachu did, too, laying among the other bodies of your Pokémon...who he now realized were in fact deceased. He could barely see them since the snow covered most of them.

But the morbid images would never leave his head.

He still didn't understand.

What have you become?

What are you?

"It's over."

Looking up, Kieran screamed upon seeing your uniform now covered in blood, the frostbite having eaten away at most of your flesh. You looked like some zombie, with exposed bones and hollowed eyes much like your Pokémon--gazing at him with that same sadness they held.

Now it finally hit him.

All this time, he wasn't battling some BB League ex-champion. He was battling the victim of that weather malfunction the four were talking about.

The one who never made it down this mountain alive.

You were already dead...and wanted him to suffer the same fate as you.

He blinked, and you were suddenly in front of him, grabbing the front of his jacket with two hands and staring at him. And all he could do was stare back in terror, unable to look away.

"Destiny B-"

"NO!! NO!! STOP!!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!" Screaming as loud as he could, he lost all composure as he tried pushing you off of him, hitting your jaw and dislocating the bone.

You dropped him to the ground, and he sobbed, wrapping his arms over his head as he begged you to leave him be.

"L-Let me go home, please pleasepleaseplease-"

"Kieran?!!!"

With a sharp gasp, he looked up to hear the voice of Lacey, before seeing her, Carmine, and the other Elite Four members rushing towards him. They were all bundled-up, with Crispin's Magmortar and Heat Rotom keeping them warm.

"It's [y/n]!!" He shouted, pointing to where you stood. "Th-They..they're right there!!"

The group stopped, appearing confused as they looked all around, seeing nothing but snow.

"Wh-Why are you all standing around?!"

"Kieran..there's no one here except us." Crispin muttered.

".....huh?" Blinking, he looked back and realized you have disappeared entirely, not leaving behind a single trace of your presence. There weren't any blood or footprints in the snow, nor any frozen bodies of Pokémon lying in it.

It's like he was battling a hallucination all along.

But it felt so real..

"But I....I-I..."

"Only you would be insane enough to risk your life coming up here," Carmine huffed, kneeling down. But as soon as she saw the true terror in her little brother's eyes, her heart sank..wondering what he witnessed. "Kiki..?"

"...i-it was them...[y/n]..." He mumbled shakily, his arm still stuck in a pointing position. Tears streaked down his face, the cold wind making his cheeks sting like hell. "Th-They were right here..and...and they...they tried to-"

"Listen, I get you really wanted to meet them and battle them...but they're not here. They're long gone. Now c'mon. We need to get you off this stupid mountain." Picking him up was no problem for Carmine, given how he was light as a feather. He just clung to her, allowing himself to be carried on her back.

The four were astonished that he actually made the journey up here, with Drayton wondering if he was really that desperate to battle you that he came up here, realized you weren't around, and just...made up a scenario in which he wins anyways.

Instead, the poor kid seemed traumatized by whatever he saw...or believed he saw.

After making it safely down the mountain and getting treated--alongside his Incineroar--Kieran's detailed account of what happened led to another rescue team heading up the summit, just in case they may have missed something.

They had fire types and ground type tirelessly shoveling through the snow, digging in the exact spot where he battled you, but there were no signs of you anywhere.

Even so..he refused to believe it, and still had reoccurring nightmares of that encounter and how it might've ended if the others didn't show up in time.

Soon enough he got back on-track to training his Pokémon and becoming stronger everyday, but other trainers noticed how carefully he treaded throughout the Polar Biome..

And how he avoided going anywhere near the tallest mountain in that zone.

For he believed you were still up there, waiting for him.

[justtryingtobecreative]

Neteyam x Human reader

Chapter 5.1

(Tw: Mentions of Smut.. next part will go 100%)

(Okay everyone here is half 1 of chapter 5! Monday the second part will drop! Let me know if you like it! Chapter 1 at the bottom!)

"Can someone murder me now?" You squeek,

Neteyam is fuming, his arm spread out to cover you. He turns his head toward you, before turning to the rest. "No Y/n no one can 'murder' you, and you four better sit down right fucking now." He growls at the young Na'vi's in front of him.

They seem more distraught than you at the moment and do as he asks instantly. Them settling down on the floor, just a little bit shorter than you as they sat down.... which was honestly quite insulting given the situation.

"We are so sorry!" Tsireya starts, the sweet nineteen year old obviously feeling the most guilty. "We just followed you when we saw you act so strange at the party!"

Neteyam holds up his hand signaling for her to stop talking, "Let's start here. Exactly how much have you all seen?" He asks bluntly, his face not betraying his emotions at all.

Aonung speaks up next, obviously pretending to be unaffected at the situation... but a noticable awkwardness in his voice. "We saw everything, and i must say it was quite suprising...what we saw."

You let out a mortified screech/groan, placing your head in your hands as you crouch down. The Na'vi giving you strange looks at the sound, not having heard it from you before.

Neteyam places a comforting hand on your head, you gathering yourself as you get back up. Your face still bright red, and your stance very awkward.

Lo'ak and Kiri seemed uncharistically quiet, which is probably to be expected when you see your elder Na'vi brother straight up demolishing your human childhood friend with his..

"Allright..well you obviously saw us.. uhm...have sex." Your big blue guy says, suddenly not meeting anyones gaze.

"That's what that was? It seemed more like an assasination attempt... i mean seriously." Aonung turned to you with an astonished gaze. "How are you even alive?"

They all turn to you, you electing to simply stare at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in existence, totally ignoring the Na'vi that were staring at you... honestly when you think about it it is quite impressive people are able to make these straw walls by hand.

Neteyam steps in front of you, hissing harshly at Aonung. "It is in your best interest to shut your mouth." He stands up straight, just taller than the other boy.

I mean, so intricate, so beautifull, this hut is so well crafted.

"If you wanted 'that' you should have gone somewhere private." Aonung remarks, still taking a step backwards when your big blue guy takes a step toward him.

"We did go somewhere private! You four just followed us like some little creeps!" Neteyam seemed very very angry.

You notice as your mate gets a bit too riled up, obviously winding himself up to take a swing as he starts clenching his fist. You swiftly lean forward to tap him on the hip, his attention turning to you instantly.

You shake your head.

Neteyam locked his intense gaze on yours, "I want to touch Y/n every second of every day, she is my mate." He remarks dryly, as he takes a step backwards, grabbing your hand.

A second of awkward silence. You want to die.. like seriously.

"How long has this been going on?" Kiri speaks up loudly from behind the others, seeming uncomfortable but also strangely intrigued.

Neteyam stares at his little sister with wide eyes, he obviously hadn't taken into account that some of his siblings were here as well. Not to mention the tall lanky form of Lo'ak still standing frozen to the side.

Kiri's question visibly registers in Neteyam as he suddenly smiles softly.

A proud look appears on your big blue guy's face. "About three weeks... but i have been in love with her for years." He responded, a faraway look on his face. "And now we are finally together."

You give his hand a squeeze as you share a smile.

Kiri relaxes at his words, smiling softly. "You realised you loved her when she got hit in the head at the sea battle." She says more than asks, her gaze settling on your conjoined hands as a small smile circles her lips.

You smile, "I...think we have always loved eachother."

Neteyam settles his oversized hand on your back, "Y/n and I are not ready to share our relationship with Mom, dad or the others." He gives his sister a meaningfull look "We are not sure if we are able to remain in the clan if they find out."

Lo'ak seems to startle awake at his brothers words, "What the fuck? You can't possibly be thinking of leaving!" He pushes past the other kids, slapping his hands on his thighs in anger.

You both knew that the young Na'vi had started to heavily lean on Neteyam after the war, mostly because the boy felt responsible that you had both been on that boat.

Neteyam steps forward placing a hand in his brothers hair, "I don't think we have a choice bro, if Mom and dad want to force us apart.." he shakes his head in distress, "I won't leave y/n... I can't." He let out a heavy sigh, a troubled expression slipping onto his face.

Lo'ak shakes his head in disbelief, "After those fucking poachers almost killed you two... i..." he let's out a sigh, him relaxing a bit as Tsireya places a hand on his shoulder. "I can't let you be bullied away by mom and dad. The clan needs you!" He frowns, a blush appearing on his cheeks when Tsireya gives him an encouraging smile.

Neteyam leans over to place a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "If we have to leave, i will be heartbroken.. but not worried about the clan.. you would be a good future leader bro."

Lo'ak looks up at his brother with conflicted eyes, "I would rather you be here bro." He finally mutters softly.

"Guys.. we have all been away from the party too long." We should probably head back.." Kiri interupts as she walks forward placing a soft hand on Lo'ak's shoulder as she speaks to the rest.

"You're probably right.." Tsireya mumbles as she steers her brother and Lo'ak away.

Neteyam looks back at you with a soft look in his eyes, softly grabbing your hand.

Kiri looks at the movement with keen eyes, she shakes her head smiling. "You are whiiipped" she says in a singsong voice.

Neteyam just shrugs his shoulders, not even bothering to deny her words.

"Now come on brother.. it's my turn to dance with Y/n." Kiri grabs my hand from his, dragging me away.

"Whoah! We can't go out like this." You gesture toward the bruises and paint remains on your and Neteyam's skin.

Kiri rolls her eyes. "Aw come on guys! It's dark in there! No way anyone will see." She doesn't give you a second to breathe before she drags you away again.

Neteyam looks a bit put off, shaking his head. "Come on Kiri! This is irresponsible!"

Kiri shakes her head, turning toward her brother again. "Come on! Have some fun brother!"

"Jeez you guys are silly.." He murmurs finally, a smile circling his lips as he looks at his mate and his sister happily conversing.

We reach the party quickly, Neteyam going over to his friends to socialise when Kiri basically chases him away from you.

The moment Kiri sees he's out of earshot she walks me to the side of the dancefloor. "Y/n... i just saw you do it with my very very big Na'vi brother... Why in the world didn't i know about this?."

"Honestly... did you really want to know me and your brother have had tons of very kinky sex."

"Ew what? No!" Kiri sticks out her tongue in disgust.

I give her a dry look, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay fine.. that's fair... how did this even start?" Kiri seems way too interested in this..

"Well it was at that party a while back... you know when he got back from that fight?"

Kiri's eyes widened.. "No."

I nod sadly, "Yes."

"You had a weird sex fight with my brother?!" Kiri yelled loudly...

I jump up and place my hand onto her mouth.. "Shut up!" I grunt softly, thankfull no one had heard.

"Okay okay i'm sorry... but he was literally covered with red spots and fingerprints.." Kiri says sheepishly.

"Uhm... well.. i grabbed onto him quite tight when.... Nope not talking about this."

Kiri's eyes widen "No but now i wanna know! You two were so wild! I thought it was supposed to be soft and sweet when people mate! You have to tell me how it works!"

"Dude come on! I can't possibly tell you all the details.."

She gives me a look.

~~~

You folded and told her the basics..

We were currently sitting beneath a table in the far back of the temple. Effectively hidden out of view.

"Wow! Wait... so you put it in... and move? And that feels good?"

"Well.. i'm honestly not sure how it feels for you Na'vi.. but Neteyam really likes the way we do it.. and that is the human way so i think so?"

Kiri seemed intrigued, a bit disgusted, and was probably about to ask more questions anyway.

"Can we talk about anything else?" You ask curtly...

Kiri sighs, obviously not satisfied at your cut off conversation. "Allright fine! How about what happened with Spider?" She frowns.

Your heart skips a beat at her words.

"You know about that?" You say softly, knowing the girl was close with him.

She nods sadly, "He told me about it.."

"It's not his fault.." you mutter softly unable to meet the girls eyes.

"I think it was... but i think he knows that too." Kiri sighs shaking her head.

I place a soft hand on her shoulder.

"I.. i just.. i like spider!" Kiri blurts out, me choking in my saliva. You look at the now upset girl, the dark in the temple hiding most of her features.

I take a second to open up to the idea before finally responding.

"That's allright Kiri.. you can like whomever you want." Your thoughts secretly run wild at her revelation.. how would sex between them work? You shake your head, if they really like eachother they will figure it out. Just like you and Neteyam had.

But still.. how in the...

"Really?... Your not mad?" Kiri asks softly giving me a worried look.

"Huh why would i be mad at that?"

"Well... he hurt you? And i thought the two of you wanted to be together.

"Kiri. I have mated with Neteyam.. i have forgiven spider... If you want to be with him and he makes you happy. Then i want you to follow your heart." You give her a comforting smile.

Kiri smiles softly grabbing your small hand in her big one. "Thank you.. i think i needed to hear that." She blushes softly.

We give eachother a tight hug before getting out from under the table. Her going to find spider.

~~~

You look around the temple in search of your big blue guy. Huh... where was he? You get a strange feeling in your stomach, a bit unsettled that you can't find him.

As the sky gets darker and darker you get increasingly worried... Neteyam wasn't at the party anymore that was certain. And the other Sully weren't either.

He wouldn't have left without telling you..

You decide to take the long way home, taking a stroll through the Na'vi camp first. "Shit.." i murmur to myself as i hear yelling coming from the Sully tent.

You sneak up using a hunting technique Neteyam thought you. Peering through the straw walls you are suprised to see all the 'kids' sitting on the floor of the tent, Jake and Neytiri standing over them.

You strain to hear what they are saying,

"I cannot believe how irresponsibly you have behaved today Neteyam.." Jake shakes his head in dissapointment, his hands on his hips as he glares down at his oldest son.

Neteyam just glares down at the ground, his large shape looking silly as he sits on the floor. Your big blue guy is not backing down an inch though, his face seemingly set in stone.

"Neteyam.. what were you thinking?" Neytiri says sternly, crossing her arms. Her face pulled into a frown, "You have embarrassed your father tonight." She hisses, Jake placing a calming hand on her shoulder.

Neteyam remains silent, you noticing his fists clench and his jaw tick.. he was mad.. very mad.

Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk look at their brother with wide eyes, this behaviour still a bit new for them.

"Neteyam! You are an adult now, act like it!" Jake shouts loudly, his voice echoeing through the small hut causing the other kids to flinch. "You cannot just come back home looking like you just fought a damn bear whenever you feel like it!"

Neteyam doesn't move and doesn't do anything really...

"You cannot expect to find a proper mate if you act like this." Neytiri hisses again, slapping her son on the shoulder. Neteyam closes his eyes, taking a few heavy breaths.

"Neteyam stand up, others out." Jake growls out as he gestures for the others to leave.. they do.. the kids rushing outside on the other side of the tent.

Your big blue guy does as instructed standing straight in front of his parents. He was now slightly taller than his father, him now hovering over them both.

"You are going to be the next olo'eyktan soon.. how do you expect to step into my footsteps if you do things like this?" Jake paces left to right in front of the younger Na'vi.

"Neteyam.. please listen to your father, it is a great honor to become our clan leader. It is more important than anything or anyone except this family." Neytiri strokes her son's arm softly, them two closer than him and his father. Her oldest son pulls away from her this time,

"I allready have a family.. one of my own. And i don't care about being olo'eyktan.. i never have." Neteyam glares at them.

"You have worked so hard my son, you are a great warrior now.. why do you not want this?" Neytiri seems confused by her sons words.

"I haven't become the warrior i am today for you or for the clan.. i have become a warrior to protect..."

"That is what a commander should do Neteyam!" Jake shouts again. "You were doing so well at becoming the perfect leader! The perfect soldier! What could you possibly have as rea.." He is interupted as his son speaks up again.

"Dad. I don't care about any of that!" Neteyam groans in frustration, he loses his composure at once starting to pace left to right.

"Why? Because all you care about is that stupid human?" Neytiri interupts.

My heart drops at her words..

Neteyam's reaction is instant as he turns to her with cold eyes. "You do not speak about her that way. You don't have the right." He shakes his head, sending a withering glare to his brother.

"I'm leaving." He grunts, stepping out of the tent.

"Neteyam! I have not dismissed you yet soldier." Jake yells loudly, his face confused and distraught again.

Neteyam steps outside, his gaze instantly landing on me. His eyes soften as they meet yours.. water starts to fall from the sky sticking his dark hair to his face.

Your big blue guy strolls over to you instantly placing his hands on your waist, his emotions clear on his face.. he whistles for his Ikran. "I am so glad to see you." He whispers into your hair, tears falling from his eyes.

"Are you allright my love?" I ask softly, giving him a small smile.

"Let's go home.." He just murmurs leading you to the Ikran, you noticing his proud gaze as it settles on yours.

"Home?" You just ask confusedly.. him smiling as he pulls you close to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Yeah.. home.." Neteyam places you on the Ikran, the glowing plants lighting his now wet skin. It was magical.. the whole forest dark.

All of a sudden out from the darkness a little creature comes down from the tree's, its little white legs feeling strange as they tickle against your bare skin.. Neteyam's eyes widen...

The tree's above light up with purple light.. more of the little beings appearing as they float around you and your mate. You smile at him, pulling his face toward yours in a sweet kiss. You about the same height as him as you sit on the Ikran and he stands next to you.

His soft hand strokes your waist with tenderness. "I see you." He whispers, his braids tickling your shoulder as he takes a seat on the Ikran behind you his arm sliding around your body to keep you safe.

"I see you.." i whisper back. I feel him smile against the back of my bare shoulder as he bends down to place a kiss on it.

He makes a loud yip, the Ikran following his command as it sets off into the sky..

Something tells you to look back at the Sully's hut.. your gaze catches the form of Neytiri stand where you had just done.. reaching up to softly touch one of those little creatures before you dissappear out of view.

~~~

We reach the human base quickly, my mind still quite occupied by the strangeness that was today. Neteyam silent ass well and no doubt

Neteyam grasps your hand softly pulling you with him as you enter the base together. "I'm sorry but.. i am not hiding us anymore." He mutters softly, seeming scared of a possible reaction.

I nod at him. "I understand.. don't worry about me.. you have enough to worry about." I squeeze his hand

Your big blue guy laughs softly, "I will always worry for you." He admits.

The scientists in the hall look confused as they see us, we ignore them.

"Oh hey Neteyam what are you doing here so late?" Norm asks confusedly.. until his gaze settles on our conjoined hands.

"I am staying the night in y/n's room." Neteyam says dryly placing an arm over my shoulders and pulling me into his chest.

Norm and the other avatars seem confused.. "Wait.. does Jake know about this?" He asks softly.

The young Na'vi just shrugs before pulling you along again.. leaving the confused man in your wake.

"Did you see all thiose marks on then.. it almost seemed like hickeys." You both heard Norm say to one of his helpers.

The two of you finally reach your room, him smiling broadly as he settles his hands on your waist. "I have never felt so amazing... just telling people that you are my mate.. i am so happy."

"I never expected you to be so impulsive Teyam. I can't say that i mind this new version of you.." i smile softly as i stare into his eyes.

I run my eyes down his chest.. noticing the bruises and hickeys again.

"I think we need to shower my love.. although.. if you are still in an adventurous mood.. we could shower in the larger one on the main floor.." I give him a teasing look, stroking my hand down his hard chest.

Lust fills his eyes. "Allright then my love.. maybe today is finally the day that we get caught by someone who doesn't keep their mouth shut.. i can't say i mind the thought of people recognising my claim on you my little mate.

His hands run up your body.

Chapter 1:

(Hope you enjoyed it!)

Chapter 5,2:

[rjzimmerman]

Mexico elects climate scientist as next president (Heatmap AM)

Mexico resoundingly elected Claudia Sheinbaum as its next president over the weekend. Sheinbaum, 61, is making headlines for becoming the country’s first female president, as well as its first Jewish leader, but she is also a climate scientist, and her landslide victory “could mark a turning point from the current administration’s pro-fossil fuel policies,” as Climate Home News explained. Sheinbaum studied physics and then received her doctorate in energy engineering. She spent four years at the Lawrence Berkeley Lab studying Mexico’s energy consumption, and had a brief stint on the UN's Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). She was tapped as secretary of the environment for Mexico City before being elected as the capital’s mayor in 2018. During her tenure she was an advocate for rooftop solar and better public transportation infrastructure.

On the presidential campaign trail, Sheinbaum promised to “accelerate the energy transition” by boosting wind and solar, installing new transmission lines, and improving the country’s hydropower stations. But she has also backed the “energy sovereignty” policies of her predecessor and mentor, President Andrés Manuel López Obrador. He built an oil refinery, funneled support into an indebted state oil company, and failed to set a national net zero target. Under his leadership, private investment in renewable projects has slumped. Energy policy may be on Sheinbaum’s to-do list when she takes office in October, but tackling crime is likely to be top of the agenda.

[arc-misadventures]

An Answer That Leads to More Questions

Jeanne: Uhh… Wasn’t it just going to be the four of us?

Juniper: Yes, but your sisters caught wind of our conversation so they demanded they be involved, and considering your secrets have included them to some capacity, I have elected that they can, and should join us for this conversation. Is that okay.

JJ: Perfectly.

Juniper: Okay, you may now begin.

Jaune: Okay, but first: What we’re about to say doesn’t leave this family. Second, suspend your feelings of disbelief. And, thirdly, save all your questions for the end.

Angela: Why should we suspend our…?!

Jaune: Save your question for the end!

Angela: Sorry.

Jaune: Haa… Okay, I’ll go first, unless?

Jeanne: I’ll interject when it seems appropriate.

Jaune: That works. Alright… This is the second life I have lived. In my first life I had seven sisters, and two parents. The same nine individuals you see before you, bar, Jeanne. Jeanne was not one of my sisters in my past life.

Jeanne: This my second life; In my first life I had the same parents we all have, Juniper, and Archeius Arc, but I had seven brothers, instead of seven sisters. And, Jaune was not one of my brothers in my past life.

Jaune: We lived two separate lives in two separate worlds of, Remnant. The worlds were mostly the same, but there were differences that allowed us to tell the difference between the two. The main factor was that most people in my world were of the opposite gender compared to, Jeanne’s. And, more importantly everything didn’t go to hell in her world as my did in mine.

Jeanne: We only knew about the existence of these parallel worlds because the two of us would randomly swap places with each other with no warning.

Jaune: We simply called the times when we switched places, A Swap. We would spend an indeterminate of time there, then randomly we would appear in a room we called, The White Room. Because everything was white. There we would meet up, chat, and randomly swap back. The randomness of the swaps caused us most of the problems we had with the swaps…

Jeanne: Yeah, I could be laying in my bed one moment, then I’m sitting at a desk in the cafeteria the next.

Jaune: Or, being grabbed by a, Beringel one moment where you’re about to slam your sword through the damn thing’s skull, only to slash through a plate of mashed potatoes in the cafeteria, covering everyone in said mash potatoes.

Jeanne: Confessing how much you’re in love to girl of your dreams, only to say it to a completely different person. And, told that your confession was pathetic so you spend the rest of your time trying to come up with something better instead.

Jeanne: Coming out of the, White Room to suddenly seen your teammates head has been shoved through a wall… again.

Jaune: Getting pelted in the face with a cream pie nanoseconds as you come back from the, White Room.

Jeanne: I got decked in the face one time because of that.

Jaune: My personal favourite was when I was having a conversation with someone outside, only to scream at her that no I did not ask her alternative universes male counterpart how big his dick was. Only to realize I said that in the middle of a classroom full of people.

Jeanne: These were just some of the more… pleasant times we experienced during our, Swaps.

Jaune: Pleasant for you! During our first swap, I was attacked; I was punched in the chest, tied up, was thrown about with a semblance, had a 50. cal pointed at my head, punched in the gut again, and then I was thrown into a cell in the depths of, Beacon Academy! All because I had somehow kidnapped their precious, Angel…

Saphron: Angel?

Jeanne: That was just a nickname I got because of my semblance’s abilities.

Jaune: You know damn well it was because of that smile you use on people!

Jeanne: Shut up.

Jaune: Don’t you try, and deny it, you flashed them that angelic smile once, they gave you tea, and cookies while I got a black eye!

Jeanne: Hehe… Because of me, and my influence most people didn’t like, Jaune in my world.

Jaune: Or, in mine either. Well, I think most people tolerated me in my world. After meeting, Jeanne they gave up hiding it, and outright showed their hostility, and indifference towards me.

Jeanne: Even our… well, my parents didn’t like you…

Jaune: Not even my parents liked me! Well, they didn’t have faith in me, which is debatably the same thing if you ask me. They offered you all the proper training, and equipment to become a, Huntress. Mine gave me encouraging words that it will be okay when I come home when I fail. Notice how I said, when, not if.

Jeanne: Well at least your team at, Beacon believed in you.

Jaune: Aye, but your presence made everyone else who believed in me cast me to the side. Hell, those bitches outright said it to my face, and acted like I wasn’t even there!

Jeanne: Well you ruined my relationship with people too just by showing up too!

Jaune: And, was that a bad thing?!

Jaune: …

Jaune: No seriously; Was that a bad thing? You broke off all contact with them yourself. Hell, you even got your partner kicked off your team because of me.

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Well… After you showed up, they did show their true colours, and show me that they were after me because they were in love with the image of, Jeanne Arc, and not the person who was, Jeanne Arc.

Jeanne: You don’t suppose their actions made me gay do you?

Jaune: No, you’re bisexual. Seeing, and dealing with their antics just tainted the possibility of you developing any kind of relationship with them; Platonic, or sexual.

Jeanne: I developed standards?

Jaune: Pretty much.

Jeanne: So my standards are you then~?

Jaune: …

Jaune: So, anyway the, Vytal Festival happened…

Jeanne: Coward.

Jaune: And, while the festival was ending, we were… I… I don’t think I should tell you what happened.

Juniper: Why not?

Jaune: Well… If I tell you something happened… Will it then happen?

Thiriana: Like in those stories where someone is told their fate, and they do everything they can to change their fate, but their attempt to change their fate they’ve sealed themselves to their fate?

Jaune: Precisely. I’m worried if I let something slip it could happen, and my life in my world was hell…

Jeanne: But, this isn’t my world, or your world at that, Jaune. There are already many differences in it, sure there are similarities, but they are not all the same. We can tell them, just not everything in extreme detail, okay?

Jaune: …

Jaune: We won’t tell them the names of people then. Otherwise things could get… difficult.

Jeanne: Good plan.

Angela: Soooo… What happened at the, Vytal Festival?

Jeanne: Well in my world my team competed in the Vytal Festival, and I managed to lead my team to victory! Even after we reformed our team a few weeks before!

Acheius: Impressive. You two will be in school when the next festival takes place; you two planning on entering?

Jeanne: We will destroy all those who stand before us!

Acheius: …

Acheius: Sweet.

Thiriana: I take it things weren’t as nice as that in your world, Jaune?

Jaune: We… We were attacked…

Angela: I don’t take it you’re talking about during a match?

Jaune: No… Vale was attacked… This shadow organization caused an attack that lead to the destruction of, Beacon Academy, and the deaths of hundreds.

Juniper: Oh gods…

Luna: Y-You were there when it happened…?!

Jaune: I was there… I fought during the, Fall. That’s… that’s what we called that day, The Fall. It was hell, Grimm roming the streets of, Vale, hordes of them pouring through, Beacon… So much, death, and destruction. I lost people there too, people I loved… People I was going to ask out on dates… But… They died that day too…

Angela: It was, Pyrrha… Pyrrha Nikos…

Jaune: What?

Angela: You said, “I don’t want to lose her again.” You said that when we talked about, Pyrrha Nikos.

Jaune: …

Jaune: It was, Pyrrha Nikos… She was my partner at, Beacon. We could have been more than that as well… but…

Luna: Oh, my god…

Janette: H-How did she die…? To the, Grimm?

Jaune: She was murdered… she sacrificed herself to defeat the villain who orchestrated the fall of, Beacon Academy. She failed though…

Juniper: Is this why you’re always training so harshly, and pushing, Jeanne to fight more smart, and honing her skills?

Jaune: Ehhh…?

Jeanne: That’s just playing smart. I wasn’t that good when I entered, Beacon. I was good enough to enter, but I was never that good. Besides, most of our training is us trying to get back into the same fighting shape we had in our primes.

Juniper: Then all the times you kissed the dirt… You were used to fighting as an adult, not a teenager. That’s why you kept falling!

Jeanne: Yep! That’s it! I’m no where near as tall, or as big as I was back then.

Saphron: How tall were you?

Jeanne: I’m about, 5’7” right now. I peaked at, 6’2”.

Thiriana: And, what do you mean by, big?

Jeanne: Double G Cup~!

Janette: What?! Bullshit!

Thiriana: Nice~!

Angela: Did you seriously become that big?

Jeanne: Don’t worry, I won’t be the biggest among us.

Luna: Who will be?

Jeanne: Thiri, Double H Cup.

Thiriana: FUCK YEAH!

Juniper: Oh my… She’ll be as big as me.

Jaune: Yeah, you lot can go to that store, and get those heavy duty support bra’s then.

Arc Sister’s: What bra store?

Jeanne: I’ll tell you later.

Juniper: What did you do after that, Jaune?

Jaune: Went to, Mistral, fought some guys, saved, Minstral. Then I went to, Atlas, became a licensed Huntsman, tried to save it, but then Atlas, and Mantle were destroyed. As I was trying to get everyone out of there, and get them to, Vaccuo, I fell off of this magical walk way, and fell into the, Ever After. Got stuck there for like… twenty years before I was reunited with my friends. Deaged back into my teenage self, and then I finally got out of there, and… And… I should stop… talking…

Arc Family: …

Jaune: …

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: They’re taking this better than I thought.

Acheius: Okay… Uhhh… W-What about you; What did you do, Jeanne?

Jeanne: Evading eh? Okay then. Well, I was still at, Beacon. But, my team was going through a major shift. You see one of my teammates his name was, Pyrros Nikos.

Angela: Pyrros? Was this your version of, Pyrrha Nikos?

Jeanne: Yep. He wasn’t as nice of a person as, Pyrrha is…

Juniper: What did he do…

Jeanne: Nothing to me! Though I wish he would have tried…

Juniper: What?!

Jeanne: H-H-He tried to force my friend/teammate to give him a kiss because he was, Pyrros Nikos! If he did it to me I would have decked him! That’s it! I swear!

Juniper: I see…

Jeanne: I would have broken his aura, and his face for doing that to my sister! But, Jaune beat me to it…

Acheius: Defending your sister’s honour? Good on you son!

Jaune: Ah-hahaaa… No… That’s not why I did that…

Acheius: Then why did you?

Jaune: Ohh… My, Beacon was a, Grimm infested hellhole, while hers was perfectly fine. Dealing with all the trauma I got from, The Fall. Pyrros, and a few other people who tormented me in, Jeanne’s world. Well… I just sorta snapped.

Jeanne: I’ll say; you broke their auras, broke their bones, shattered their egos, and were a huge turned on for, Rin!

Jaune: Jeanne?! No names!

Jeanne: Oh… Sorry…

Saphire: Rin; Who’s, Rin?

Jeanne: She’s is…! Was… my teammate in my previous life.

Juniper: What was she like?

Jeanne: I can’t talk about her… Whole alternative universe possibilities thingy.

Juniper: I understand. But, was she special?

Jeanne: Not in the way you think. But, yeah… she was…

Jaune: Don’t worry, Jeanne, we’ll see her again.

Jeanne: Hopefully… So, after that, I got a new partner, who I eventually married, hopefully you’ll get to meet her soon. I graduated, Beacon at the top of my class. And, I lived out a nice full life before I died at the age of one hundred, and three.

Jaune: Wait? You lived till you were a hundred, and three?! Wow… I didn’t know that.

Jeanne: I don’t like talking about my death. I have to bring up your death if I did, which I am still uncomfortable talking about.

Luna: Uhh… H-How did you die, Jaune?

Jaune: Murder suicide. I sacrificed myself to kill the bitch who murdered, Pyrrha.

Arc Family: YOU WHAT?!!

Jaune: So, that’s about it. The floors open for questions! Bar those about my death, there’s too much I would have to explain to explain that.

Juniper: You’re not getting out of it that easily young man.

Jaune: Watch me. Yes, Angela?

Angela: Okay, why should we believe you? I mean… This… thing, as ludicrous as it sounds. It explains… a lot about the oddities you two have done. But, why should we believe you? Everything you’ve said is about things that could happen, and that only happened to you two. Why should we believe you?

Jaune: Fair. I wouldn’t believe you either if I said that to you. So how about this… Saphron?

Saphron: Oh no…

Jaune: You have a secret girlfriend. Her name is, Terra Cotta, she has brown skin, brown eyes, and brown hair. She wears red glasses, and is as tall as you are. She lives in, Argus, and works as an, Atlassian Telecommunications Specialist. She was living in an apartment until recently because bought herself a nice little house at, 118th Street West, house number 3. As soon as she did this she sent you a message asking if you wanted to move in with her. You said yes almost immediately, but you scared to tell the rest of us that you are planning on moving out to be with your girlfriend.

Saphron: How the… How the fuck do you know all of that?! I haven’t told anyone that!

Jaune: You told me, but just not yet.

Juniper: Wait… Saphron… I-Is this true?

Saphron: I would have preferred to say this on my own terms, but yes… Yes this is all true… I was planning on moving out next month to be with her.

Juniper: Oh my… This is… Oh gods…

Acheius: Looks like they’re telling the truth, Juniper.

Juniper: Huw?! Oh yeah, they’re telling the truth… But, my baby wants to move out?! Oh gods…?!

Luna: She’s more concerned with the fact, Saphron wants to move out, then the fact the twins are reincarnaters…

Angela: This… This isn’t all that surprising honestly.

Saphron: Was she like this when I told her?

Jaune: More, or less.

Saphron: Ahh… Peachy… So, if you know about my girlfriend, what else do you know about her; any little hints you could give me?

Jeanne: Bar the fact I was super jealous of you for things I cannot explain. No.

Saphron: Why not?

Jeanne: Because if I did, it may not happen.

Saphron: Eh?

Saphire: Are you talking about how in stories people are given a prophecy of their future fate, and said fate is something they wish to prevent so they do everything in their power to ensure it, but that only makes it enviable?

Jeanne: Yeah, pretty much that.

Acheius: So that’s why you’ve been keeping secrets; you scared of what might happen.

Jaune: That, and we may be taken to a psych-ward, and locked up.

Acheius: Fair.

Juniper: What are the differences between this… universe, and yours.

Jeanne: Mostly small stuff. The Headmistress of Beacon is Selma, it was a guy in, Jaune’s world. In my world the, White Fang was a peaceful organization, or at least, it always was, instead of the radical race supremacists terrorist they are now.

Jaune: I didn’t have a uncle in my world, least, not that I know of. Uncle Roman wasn’t… Well actually bar the fact we’re related there is not much difference between the two.

Jeanne: I had an aunt in my world. I miss her.

Jaune: And, Winter Schnee isn’t our potential sister. So yeah, we have just as many similarities as differences in this life. So, we are refraining from telling what happened in our worlds because, well, we don’t know what may happen in this world.

Saphire: So then, in the book series I wanted you to read, Ninjas of Love. You said you didn’t want to read it, was that because you’ve already read it in your past life?

Jaune: Yes, you forced me to read it, and before you ask for my opinions, the entire series, eight books of nothing, but utter smutty trash!

Saphire: Eight books?! There’s only four out right now! It’s getting more; tell me when?!

Jaune: Oops…

Jeanne: Does that mean I have to read more of that trash?! Aww man…

Jaune: You’ve been reading that trash?!

Jeanne: She keeps using those puppy dog eyes on me, I have no resistance to it!

Jaune: Weak.

Jeanne: Shut up. Any questions?

Juniper: Yes; The reason you two are so well skilled with your chosen weapons, and in fact knew exactly what kind of weapons, and armour you wanted is because you had this gear in your previous life?

Jaune: Yep, I had all the same gear in my past life.

Jeanne: Same.

Acheius: And, the reason you’re so tactically minded, Jaune is because of all the battles you fought right.

Jaune: I’ve always had a tactical mind, I’ve just sharpened it over the years.

Angela: Have you made any plans on what you’re going to do in this life?

Jeanne: A few. Since we don’t know what’s going to happen in this life we’re mostly just waiting to see what happens, and go from there.

Angela: What do you have planned?

Jeanne: Mostly reuniting with our old friends, and having the relationships we didn’t get to have in that life.

Saphire: What kind of relationship?

Jaune: Some will be romantic if you must know.

Saphire: How many?

Jaune: Myself? More than one at the least, you, Jeanne?

Jeanne: You, and one other person. I’ll probably have a relationship with the other members of your inevitable harem.

Jaune: Well, considering who may be involved that should be a given.

Juniper: Do I get grandkids out of your harem?

Jeanne: Jaune gave you your first grandkid in my life! She was absolutely gorgeous!

Juniper: The other me’s male version of the other me’s Jeanne was the first one to give me a grandchild? What were those kids doing?!

Jeanne: That’s what I was thinking too! Jaune already had an adorable nephew in his world! I didn’t have shit until he knocked up my partner!

Angela: Wait, you knocked up her partner? Was this during a… You called it a, ‘Swap’ right?

Jaune: Yeah, I knocked her up during a, ‘Swap.’ It was consensual mind you! She saw me, and practically pounced me. It’s always the quiet ones… Whoo!

Thiriana: But, why did she do that?

Jaune: Uhh… Jeanne?

Jeanne: She was an orphan who lost her family at a young age like so many others. So, she confessed to always wanting to be a mother, and having a family of her own one day when she grew up. When the swaps started happened she was one of a few people that was always kind to, Jaune so the two managed to bound. But, what really caused her to fall for you was that time you saved her on a mission. We were dealing with a bunch of bandits, and Rin was captured. They were about to… do things to her, when we swapped. I was trying to negotiate with them to get her back, but when we met up in the, ‘White Room,’ Jaune was there covered in blood. He told me she was safe, she was fine. Her clothes were a little torn, but she was safe. When I came back, she was standing before me with a faint blush on her face. I teased her relentlessly about her crush on, Jaune for months, until one day, after another swap, and meeting in the, ‘White Room.’ Jaune confessed to knocking her up. After that, she dropped out of, Beacon, me, and my team went home, and left her with you to help raise their child. She eventually grew up to become a exemplary huntress, and proud mother in her own right. Haaa… I miss them…

Juniper: You’ll see them, again, Jeanne. I know you will.

Jeanne: I know. I just don’t want to wait longer.

Thiriana: So she fell for, Jaune because he was the whole, ‘knight in shining white armour?’

Jeanne: Yes, but the beard, and wolf tail certainly helped.

Acheius: You grew a beard; Was it any good?

Jaune: Better than yours; It may have been an unkempt mess because I couldn’t shave it in years, but the ladies certainly liked it.

Acheius: Well, the lady certainly liked mine! Right dear~?

Juniper: No I…?!

Jaune: No she didn’t! If mom had a son you had to shave it off, that was the bet you two made, and thank gods you lost it!

Jeanne: Yeah, that thing was hideous.

Acheius: Y-You remember that…?!

Jaune: I remember it.

Jeanne: We both remember it…

Juniper: You you two were just born?! How can you remember that?!

Jeanne: Hell if I know.

Jaune: The gods are a punch of dicks, what more can we say about why this all happened.

Angela: Gods, don’t you mean goddesses?

Jaune: No… wasn’t this world run by two brother gods…?

Angela: No, the legends say it was run by two sister goddesses.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Well the moon’s still broken; so instead of a punch of gods who are massive dicks, they’re a bunch of bitches.

Angela: They broke the moon?!

Jaune: And, they’re assholes, moving on!

Jeanne: Any questions?

Juniper: Does anyone…?

Arc Family: No. I’m good. Too much to think about to ask really.

Juniper: Okay… I guess that’s it. We’ll just ask you if there’s anything we think about.

Jeanne: Okay, that’s fine…

Jaune: I guess that’s it. We’ll talk later. Family meeting adjured.

Luna: Wait! One question?

Jaune: Haa… And, what’s that?

Luna: What’s the next winning lottery numbers?!

Jaune: …

Jeanne: …

Arc Family: …

Luna: What?

Jeanne: All these fascinating things could, and did happen to us, and you want to know lottery numbers?!

Luna: Yes…?

Jaune: Haaa…

Jaune: 40-21-588.

Luna: Fuck yeah! See you guys latter, momma’s gonna become rich! Hahahaha!!!

Acheius: A-Are those seriously the winning lottery numbers…?

Jaune: Nope. I just wanted to mess with her.

Jeanne: Nice~!

Acheius: Oh, okay then…

///

Ughhh… It’s done… It’s finally done!

I couldn’t finish this for weeks, but it’s finally done! Not my best, but it is done.

Enjoy~!

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!

I was wondering if you have any fics about jesus and the second coming so a continuation of season 2!

Ive been trying find a tag for it but I cant fine any unfortunately

Thank you!

Hi! Tags on ao3 I'd suggest are The Second Coming (Good Omens) and Jesus (Good Omens). We also have series three speculation fics here. Here are some more fics for you...

Fallen from the sky-The Second Coming by Bucky1984 (M)

After the abandonment of Aziraphale, Crowley struggles to reinvent himself and finds comfort in the daily lives of the inhabitants of Soho... Meanwhile, the new Supreme Archangel has been entrusted with the new phase of the Great Divine Plan! Determined to use his new influence to save humanity from the worst, Aziraphale is torn between trust and conscience. When Good and Evil become diluted, there is no longer black or white. Only grey remains...

Once for the Devil, Once for Christ by Eighty_Sixed (G)

During the Second Coming, Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves on opposite sides. Meanwhile, the newly returned Jesus Christ isn't quite what everyone expected.

Falling with Style by NooRose93 (E)

Aziraphale is having a difficult enough time averting the second coming without an amnesiac demon to look after, thank you very much. Crowley has always been the one to rescue Aziraphale, will Aziraphale be able to save Crowley's memories before the end of the world?

I am with you always, to the very end of the age. by garlicpasta (NR)

Then will appear in heaven the sign of the Son of Man, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other. Or maybe not. Aziraphale and Crowley get together after they last saw each other to save the world once more. But working together won’t be easy if they don't stop arguing every five seconds. Will Muriel and Jesus Christ be able to save their marriage, I mean, the world? Saving the world was never this fun! –Muriel I just want to get over with this already so I can see Hozier live. –Jesus I think everyone should just die. –Michael

Demiurge by PanderrynRose (E)

As the dust settles, Crowley drives. Away. Away from everything. He can't stay, not now. Not when warm memories have frozen into icy shards that shred his heart and lungs every time he sees something that reminds him of everything he's lost. But just as he can't stay, he also can't stay away from those who need or ask for his help. Earth--for all intents and purposes--is his home. And he can't leave the planet to the whims of the same bureaucracy and being that harmed him.

From Foxclere (with love?) by Bohemia (T)

There, in the small space between the dessert bowl and Crowley’s coffee saucer, was a partial map of the cosmos, rendered delicately in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. “How’s your mythology these days?” Crowley asked, head bent down, keeping the conservation cloistered without any need for a miracle. “As good as it always was, thank you,” Aziraphale replied primly. ---------- Wherein Crowley restores himself to the Court of Hell, Aziraphale just wants to Do The Right Thing, and they are still very firmly Not Talking. An imaginary Season 3, featuring terrible choices, heartbreak, ridiculous situations, Jane Austen, Greek Mythology, a hefty dose of plot, and perhaps a long overdue Conversation.

- Mod D

[tippenfunkaport]

A Deal

Reunited with the rest of the rebellion, the crew from Darla tries to figure out where they fit on this new changed Etheria. Bow and Catra bond.

(Missing scene set after An Ill Wind)

Read on AO3

“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll be brave and talk to Glimmer if you talk to Adora. Maybe it will work out for the both of us and we can double date!” “I have no idea what that means.”  “It means like... we’d hang out. All four of us.” “Didn’t we just do that in space?” Catra looked so utterly bewildered by the concept he couldn’t help but laugh. “You princesses are so weird.” “But you love us!” Bow fluttered his lashes at her.  Catra elected to ignore that statement. “You know what? Fine. You’ve got a deal.” “Really?”

In which Perfuma thirsts over Scorpia's back muscles, we check back in with all the characters Tippen hasn't been able to use in a billion chapters, Catra and Bow talk about many things including the portal, Queen Angella, and Double Trouble and Bow attempts the futile task of trying to get Catra to promise to tell Adora how she feels before the end of the literal world.

(can be read as a standalone but it's also Chapter 33 of Going There)

[stiltonbasket]

jzx, seeing yanli carrying around baby a-yuan: oh. Oh.

Also, the idea of A-yuan being surprisingly tolerant of jzx while his a-niang and jiang-shushu have never felt more Betrayed™️.

Thank you very much for ur cultivation baby sizhui au i am in love!!!!!!!

As is the way of things when one happens to be the heir to a sect, no one has ever dared to hurt Jin Zixuan's feelings.

Of course, he argued with his mother sometimes; and when he was a child, he tried to quarrel with his father about the women he brought into Koi Tower. Those arguments never turned in Zixuan’s favor, but no one but his father has ever tried to insinuate that he was wrong about something important: and when the first person to do so turns out to be Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan spends the next two weeks in a state of abject shame.

He had misjudged Maiden Jiang, badly. He never knew her to be dishonest in their childhood, and she had never been proud—but Zixuan was flattered by the notion that someone would take the trouble to make him soup on a battlefield, and when he saw the girl who delivered the first bowl, Jiang Yanli seemed weaker and more talentless than ever in comparison. She could not fight, and she was not beautiful; and her pursuit of Jin Zixuan into battle seemed poorly done, when there were other women who had come to fight or elected to remain at home to defend their sect strongholds.

“Do you have anything in that thick skull of yours? Anything at all?” Wei Wuxian had demanded, on the day Zixuan insulted Jiang-guniang for bringing him soup. “She has two brothers at the front, and you think she’s here for you? Do you think you’d even get to see her face if Nie-zongzhu sent me and Jiang Cheng somewhere else?”

Jin Zixuan had been a fool. He considered Jiang Yanli’s affections as his by rights, even when he thought he did not want them; and now that he did, it would be shameless to pursue her considering their broken engagement.

Just the other day, he had seen her walking around camp with Wei Wuxian’s child in her arms, and the picture she made was so devastatingly beautiful that Zixuan wished he could strangle the younger version of himself that thought her plain.

“It’s nobody’s fault but your own,” Mianmian said mercilessly, when Jin Zixuan asked for her advice on the day before they departed for the Nightless City. “No one asked you to treat her coldly when we were children, or insult her at the Cloud Recesses. No one forced you to reject her cooking, either. You’re reaping your own rewards, gongzi, and you won’t get any sympathy from me.”

“I know I don’t deserve your sympathy. I don’t deserve Jiang-guniang’s love, either,” Jin Zixuan pleaded. “But surely—surely I could apologize to her? Her feelings must still be wounded, and I haven’t done anything about it.”

“The time to make apologies was months ago,” she snapped. “Frankly, I don’t see how marrying you could make Jiang-guniang happy now. Let it go.”

So Jin Zixuan let it go, knowing that the bitterness of losing Jiang Yanli was nothing compared to all that she had endured at his hands. But then, a bare twenty-four hours after Wen Ruohan was finally slain, he meets her in the compound of the Sun Palace reserved for recovering cultivators, and stops dead in his tracks; for she has Wei Wuxian’s son tied to her back in a sling, and the baby had seized one of the gold peony chains dangling from Jin Zixuan’s guan as he passed by.

“Oh!” Jiang Yanli exclaims. “Pardon me, Jin-gongzi. Yuanyuan, let go of his hair.”

The baby—Yuanyuan, Jiang-guniang said—does not let go. Instead, he winds his tiny fists around the end of the chain and pulls it towards his mouth.

“Bu!” he shrieks, when Jin Zixuan tries to free himself. Unnerved, Zixuan drops his hand and edges a little closer; he hates listening to babies’ cries, and this baby’s crying kept their regiment from sleep on so many nights that most of the Jin cultivators refuse to go anywhere near him.

Jiang-guniang reaches up and pries Yuanyuan’s left hand open. But the minute she reaches for the right one, the left hand clamps back down on Jin Zixuan’s hair.

“I’ll just give it to him. I’ve got others,” Jin Zixuan squeaks, his face burning. “It won’t take long, Lady Jiang.”

He detaches the guan and its six gold chains from his bun, letting his long dark hair fall free, and then he puts it back up with a spare hairpin and gives his guan to the baby.

“Here,” he says, and then, when she opens her mouth to thank him:

“It was no trouble,” Zixuan blurts out. “It’s just a guan, and he’s only a baby.”

Jiang Yanli gives him a kind smile and steps past him, heading towards the house where Wei Wuxian is convalescing.

But Wei Yuan, apparently unsatisfied with the peony chains now that they were his and not Zixuan’s, wriggles up and hangs the guan over Jiang Yanli’s ear.

“Pitty,” he coos, rubbing his tiny cheek against hers.

In that very moment, the sun emerges from behind a veil of rosy clouds; and when it falls upon Jiang Yanli, the light strikes the golden peony blossoms in her hair, and fills her big eyes with a gentle fire that nearly brings Jin Zixuan to his knees.

“Mianmian,” he gasps, after he staggers back to the Jins’ guest compound and collapses on the floor by his bed. “Mianmian, I need help. I love Jiang-guniang, I do—even if her affections for me have faded. I won’t press her—I could never press her, even if I had not disrespected her so in the past. But if I have the slightest, slimmest chance, then maybe—”

Mianmian looks supremely unimpressed.

“Get up,” she sighs, a little while later. “Very well, I’ll help you.”

Jin Zixuan bolts upright. “Then you think she might accept me?”

“Why do you think I told you to stay away from her?” scolds Mianmian. “If she’d learned her lesson after that business with the soup, I wouldn’t have bothered. I warned you off for her sake, Zixuan, because Jiang-guniang still loves you.”

Jin Zixuan gawks at her, wonderstruck, and bursts into tears.

[tashacee]

Consider ✨

An au like Heros Aspect but Wild is stuck in the dark armor instead.

I crave comedy of errors style misunderstandings =)

OOOOOOOOOH boy i started to answer this before and it got REALLY DARK so i've scrapped that and have started again.

SO

A lot of the initial chase and fleeing would be strangely similar. Yes, Wild can talk now, but the others think he's Dark Link, and Dink always lies. They don't listen to a word he says until he's lying in the river, bleeding from where Warriors shot him, trembling as he tries to show he's not a threat.

Dink doesn't bleed. That's their first clue that Wild is one of them and not a monster. That's what gives them pause.

("Wait- he's bleeding." said pinky, holding up a hand to stop the others and lowering his sword a fraction.

What the- damn right, he's bleeding! You just shot me! Wild wanted to retort, but something told him that wouldn't help matters. It was a little voice that he liked to call his inner-Zelda, and for once he elected to listen to it)

And then Sky came stumbling out of the woods, telling his brothers not to attack, that he was one of them.

Wars Four and Legend exchanged glances. Four was the first one to shrug and say 'eh that tracks'. The others wondered at his easy acceptance, but of course, they didn't know about Shadow.

Still, the boys were probably more wary with Wild in the Dark armour than the Aspect, and when he reached out to touch the sword they watched him like hawks. But of course, Fi didn't burn him. Instead she gave him his name and cemented him as one of the team.

("OH THANK HYLIA!" the newly dubbed Wild said, sighing in relief and flopping back into the water. "I thought you guys were really going to kill me!"

The three who had chased him exchanged uncomfortable glances, but none of them said what they were all thinking. For a moment there, so had they.

Wild looked up at them again and they all - minus Sky, of course - started. His eyes were all red and glowed even in the daylight, casting a sickening pallor over his already grey skin. He furrowed his brow and smiled, the scars that laced one side of his face pulling at the movement.

"I- I don't normally look like this." he whispered nervously. "It's a mask I tried on. But I can't get it off." he sighed. "Worst fashion choice ever.")

With this explained, the boys bandage his wound as best they can and bring him back to camp, embarrassed and apologetic. Wild brushes off their apologies. After all, he does look exactly like the shadow monster that has been trying to kill them. What's a little grievous bodily harm between a shared soul, eh?

The others are a little concerned about his blase attitude to being hurt, but who are they to judge?

Once again, they make him wait outside the camp while they explain to the rest who he is and how they met. Legend includes both that he looks like Dink and also that it's because he tried on a mask and got his ass cursed (his words). Wild can hear Time facepalming from where he hides.

He's still nervous stepping into camp. Twilight still encourages him. Wind is still friendly. Time is still welcoming. Hyrule is still nervous. It's obvious that they're all shaken by his appearance, but it takes about the same amount of time for them to all warm up to him as if he was in the Aspect.

The main difference is that Dark!Wild can creep up on them and scare them more effectively, what with being his normal height and having creepy glowing eyes. Also when they're trying to sneak places at night, his eyes are super distracting. He gets banana sunglasses to match sky's, just to hide their glow.

Some of the stunts the Chain pull are different. Rather than Cat Island, Wind tells everyone that Wild is from Shadow Island where he rules over the dead. Some are exactly the same. Wild still makes friends with the cats in ordon, and inexplicably, kids still love him.

He does not understand why.

But what mostly stays the same is that he has brothers who love and care about him, and who think he's an absolute idiot for getting himself cursed to be stuck in the Dink mask.

And yes, he still manages to get stuck in the Mask of Awakening.

[kitkatopinions]

Blake for the rewrite game

Yeah, my girl Blake!

So, to start things off, if I rewrote RWBY, I would get rid of the Faunus racism angle, Faunus would just exist, and I would instead focus more on classism. This would obviously change Blake quite a bit, but I would try to keep her V1-5 character the same despite this.

But backstory is where I think things would get really different. I never minded the "daughter of the chief" thing (though if I was rewriting, I would remake Menagerie into "Aride," one of the biggest "non-kingdom" places in Remnant.) But it would be an elected position that her mother had, but didn't have until Blake was about seven, and there would be no real expectation that Blake would grow up and take over. But she would grow up in the public eye in her country since she's basically the daughter of a president, and she'd be comparatively rich. I say 'comparatively' because of people like Weiss. Blake would grow up with security and people paid to garden and cook at her three story house, but it isn't like she'd be a billionaire. But, moving on from that, I'd make Ilia Blake's childhood friend with their parents being friends. Blake would travel around a lot with her father and Ilia would attend private school in Atlas, but they'd spend every summer together. And then I'd have Blake's father and Ilia's parents die in the same SDC accident, leaving Ilia an orphan and Blake grieving when they're both about eleven. Blake's mom starts sheltering her and gets really overprotective, and Ilia decides to run away from her new foster family and asks Blake to come with her, and Blake does. That's when Adam would enter the picture.

Here's the thing about Adam, he's basically two characters. Almost everything he does is some kind of contradiction of another thing he did. So if I were re-writing, I'd split Adam in two. There would be the teenage freedom fighter that would be nuanced and have ideological disagreements with Blake that slowly started getting worse but cares more about the cause than chasing after Blake that I would give the romantic history as well, and then give the 'older mentor' role and the 'abuser' role and the 'obsessed' and the 'doesn't actually care about the cause' stuff to... Hazel. All that is re-writing other characters, but it's crucial to Blake's backstory. Because I would have Blake and Ilia spend some time starving on the streets and then they'd meet Adam, who is a year older than them and rough but caring, and takes them to his 'benefactor' Hazel, who has Adam currently working for him in exchange for room and board. And Hazel is totally using the kids with a mask of caring for them, and convinces them that he's working to take down the SDC when really he's working for Salem. Blake spends about four years working with Hazel, but she starts doubting him and having a problem with the collateral and the unnecessary violence she sees, and Hazel starts escalating into being subtly and then not so subtly abusive towards them, and she sees how Adam and Ilia are growing more and more angry and violent, with Adam specifically starting to copy Hazel's abusive behavior. I'd then have Blake overhear Hazel talking to Watts or Cinder or something over the scroll, basically confirming that he's really a murderer who is just using them, and she runs away again, leaving behind Adam and Ilia. I'd have her regret it and try to go back to their base to talk to them, but it would be cleared away by then. She winds up joining an actual rights group run by Sienna Kahn who in my re-writes would be a former Hunter, and that inspires Blake to join the Hunter academy. Also, I would have a romantic angle between Blake and Adam, but I'd have them both move on from it.

But yeah, to me, having Blake accidentally work for a Salem agent and then leave behind her friends in the middle of it seems like a much better cause for Blake's whole "i have a past I'm not proud of and I've made a lot of mistakes' thing than 'I was a member of a civil rights group that wasn't one hundred percent peaceful, I now have to swear to my bigoted friend that I'm not part of it anymore.'

As for canon, I'd mostly keep it the same for a while only with some minor tweaks, Blake would still be the hard to get to, hesitant to make friends, passionate feisty action based girl with a strong moral code that keeps secrets from her friends and is guilt-ridden and self-deprecating. I'd just make her strict morals kind of akin to my own, with less 'never steal, reactive violence is wrong' stuff and more 'know exactly who you're stealing from to make sure it's morally sound,' and 'reform should be the goal, not revenge' kind of stuff, and I'd make her V4-V5 arc include her deciding to try to save Ilia and Adam, and it would turn into this whole thing where Adam takes a longer time and even then his and Blake's friendship just is never recovered. And also, I'd make it so that Blake is typically the most compassionate member of Team RWBY, always the first to understand where others are coming from when their team disagrees with people like Oz or Ironwood, and I'd have it so that she's a bit more focused on the personal and the human conflicts than on Salem and that kind of thing. Like yes, obviously Blake would be concerned about Salem, but like, she'd get to Atlas and be concerned about what Jacques Schnee is doing and how it affects people while the others are a bit more concerned with the secret Salem war.

Blake is a fave of mine, so I really want to do her justice!

[imaginingaustin]

austin and me || part four

summary: after presley turns two, austin feels it’s time for her first trip to graceland.

“presley, honey, let’s go!” you called from the front door. she came running into the living room, her stuffed bunny tight under her arm.

“alright, does everyone have everything?” austin asked, meeting you at the door.

“yes, i've quadruple checked our bags, we have everything we could possibly need for the flight. and our suitcases have been fully packed for four days.” you said, matter-of-factly.

“perfect, let’s go.” austin said. you all grabbed your things and began loading into the car. you got presley in her car seat and moved to help austin finish loading the bags. after the last one, he closed the trunk, and pulled into a hug. “you excited?” he asked you.

“very excited.” you said, reaching up to kiss him.

priscilla and riley decided to close graceland, as well as the guest house, to the public for a few days, and they had invited you, austin, and presley to come visit. of course, austin had been there many times at this point, but this would be your first time, and the first time the three of you would be there as a family. presley had just turned two, and you were comfortable traveling with her, so you were quick to accept the invitation. you were excited to be there, and you knew that priscilla and riley would be wonderful hostesses.

upon your arrival to the airport, you quickly got checked in, your bags in order, and moved to find your gate. while you waited to board, you grabbed a bite to eat. the flight was seamless, the three of you actually sleeping for the most of it. once you landed in memphis, jerry was at the airport to pick you up.

“i haven’t driven with a car seat in a long time.” he commented as you were getting presley buckled. your eyes landed on his face, and you could tell that he was missing lisa. you climbed out of the car and hugged him tight. no words were exchanged, but the way he relaxed in your arms, you could tell that he needed the comfort.

“alright, is everyone ready!” he called, clearing his throat. you nodded, and you and austin climbed into the car. jerry drove you to the guest house, where priscilla, riley, and harper and finley were waiting for your arrival. they all embraced you in warm hugs and led you into the lobby of the guest house. they helped you get acclimated and let you have pick of the rooms. everyone dispersed to their rooms, most everyone electing to stay on the first floor. you chose one that had a wonderful view of the pool. once the key cards were ready, you all went off to your rooms to unwind for a bit before dinner.

at dinner time, you wall made you way over to graceland, walking up the winding drive way up to the porch. while you looked around, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at all the emotions and memories you knew this house held. austin was a bit ahead of you, but he turned around to check on you and presley. he noticed the tears welling in your eyes, and a look of concern shrouded his face.

“you okay?” he asked, falling in step with you.

“mhm. just feeling very emotional about being here.” you said softly. austin wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gave you a gentle squeeze.

you all stopped at the porch while riley and priscilla stood at the door. priscilla was hesitant to open the door. you knew that the last time she was here was very emotional, so you all gave her the time and space to compose herself.

once she was ready, she opened the door and you all filed into the living room. it was still set up the way it would be for tours, and priscilla lead you around the home as if she was your personal tour guide. you got to see the living and dining rooms, the kitchen, the jungle room, the tv room, and everything in between.

“this room has always been my favorite.” you said as you stood at the wall of the jungle room.

“ big teddy!” presley called, pointing at the teddy bear of lisa marie’s that sat in the chair in the corner of the room.

“yes, honey, that is a big teddy.” you laughed, following her gaze.

“that was always lisa marie’s favorite chair. she would sit there all the time, listening to her daddy sing in this room.” priscilla said before continuing the tour. your tour remained in the house, before you circled back into the dining room. the table had been set for everyone to sit to dinner, a wonderful meal was prepared and you all took your seats, leaving the chair at the head of the table empty. for elvis.

as you ate, conversation ensued, and everyone was having a wonderful night. after you finished eating, and after getting permission from priscilla, austin took you and presley on a ride in one of the golf carts around the front yard. you sat in the front with presley in your lap as austin drove around the lawn. presley was screaming and laughing, having the absolute time of her life. you and austin were just as ecstatic, having just as much fun as she was.

back in the house, the group had flocked to the window, watching the three of you in the yard. priscilla once again was feeling painfully nostalgic, images of her with elvis and lisa marie, sharing the same moments that the three of you did. austin was the same fun, care-free, always crazy dad that elvis was. you were the same reluctant, but playful mother she was. and presley was the same little girl living her best life as lisa marie was.

“you okay?” jerry asked her, squeezing her shoulders. priscilla snapped back to reality, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“yes. i just see so much of us in them, and i can’t help but get emotional.” she laughed, wiping another tear.

“i know you do. i do too. it hurts a lot, but they’re so good together.” jerry said, hugging her tight.

“i just hope they have a better fate then we did.” she sighed. just then, riley had reached out to her, squeezing her shoulder. priscilla smiled at her, placing her hand on riley’s. they shared a soft smile, both knowing the sentiment they meant behind them.

after a while, you, austin, and presley had gone back into the house with everyone for dessert. after dessert, you were helping riley in kitchen, cleaning the dishes and putting up the leftover food.

“thank you again for having us. this home is so beautiful.” you said to her.

“it’s very special. i feel so close to my mom here. it makes me feel like i have her here with me again.” she said to you.

“i’m sure. she was so wonderful towards austin and i. she was a remarkable woman, and im so grateful i got to meet her. i know austin will forever appreciate how welcoming she was towards him. i know his missing her will never compare to yours, but he loved her like she was his own mother.” you said to her.

“and she loved him like she was her own. she was so appreciative of how much care he took of his elvis portrayal, and i know that meant a lot to her. she praised him all the time.”

“i know how much that meant to him.” you said with a smile. just then you felt a pair of arms wrap around your legs. “hello, my love.” you said, scooping presley up into your arms.

“she looks just like you.” riley said with a smile, brushing a piece of presley’s hair behind her ear. "i couldn't tell which of you she looked most like the day she was born, but she's definitely grown into her mother's daughter."

“i always thought she was a perfect mix of the two of us when she was born.” you said. “she definitely kept austin's eyes, but i feel like her face has become softer, like mine, as she's grown so far.” riley nodded in agreement.

“she’s beautiful either way.” riley side, kissing her cheek.

“thank you.” you said with a smile. “tell auntie riley thank you for dinner.” you said, kissing presley's forehead.

“thank you, auntie riley.” presley said softly.

“of course, sweetheart.” riley smiled, patting her head.

“hey, there are my girls.” austin said, walking over to the three of you at the counter. he took presley from you and held her in his arms. “riley, i can’t thank you enough for hosting us. this has been such a wonderful evening, and im so glad that you’ve allowed us to join.” he said to her.

“anytime. you guys know you’re always welcome.” she said. they hugged gently before riley walked out of the kitchen, moving back to her husband and daughter who sat at the table.

“hey, so i want to introduce you to someone.” austin said, turning to you.

“who? i know everyone here.” you laughed.

“just c’mon.” he said, taking his hand in yours. presley was on his hip as he lead the two of you out of the house, past the pool, and over to the meditation garden. you stopped at the edge of area, where the cross stood next to gladys’ original headstone. you were already overcome with emotion at this moment, and you knew that you were about to start sobbing. unknown to the three of you, the rest of the group had followed you down there as well. you walked over to austin, who was kneeling in front of elvis’ grave, presley standing in between his legs.

“this is the man you were named after, sweetheart. this is the man who changed my life, and will always be a big part of yours, mine, and mommy’s life.” he said to her. he read her the inscription that adorned elvis’ headstone, turning to you as he finished. “and this is my beautiful wife, y/n.” he began, turing back to the headstone. he spoke to elvis about you, telling elvis how much he appreciated your support throughout the process of filming the movie, and how amazingly receptive you were of the film.

“i’ve always been a fan of yours, and i feel like austin was the closest thing i’ll get to seeing you live.” you said to elvis. you pressed a kiss to the tips of your fingers, and pressed them softly against his headstone. just then, the wind picked up, blowing the leaves and trees around.

“i think he’s happy to meet you.” austin said with a smile.

he then lead you and presley over to where lisa marie was buried. austin was hesitant to speak at first, as he still missed her so much. you gave him a moment, rubbing his back and holding his hand, as he stood there silently, his hand atop her grave. you heard him sniffle before taking a deep breath, finally ready to speak. he picked up presley again,

“pres, this is lisa marie. you know, she was very important in my life, making sure that i was welcomed into this family. she was so supportive in everything i did in regards to her daddy, that it meant so much to me. and i know that she would’ve loved you.” austin said, poking presley’s belly, causing her to giggle. “she was like a second mom to me.” he said softly.

he stepped to the side and allowed you to move forward to lisa’s grave to give you a moment to speak to her.

“hi, miss lisa.” you said quietly, placing your hand on the top of her head stone. “i know you probably already know this, but i miss you so much. our time together was cut way too short, and i wish you were here to get to enjoy all the wonderful things that everyone has accomplished.” you said, short of breath as you started crying. you felt austin’s hand on your back, immediately feeling at ease. “i wish you could be here to meet presley. your mom says she reminds her of you, and i know you would’ve adored her. she would’ve loved you too.” you finished. you’d become too teary to finish speaking, so austin pulled you into his chest, hugging you tight. you stood there silently, as the wind picked up again. you were sure it was lisa marie this time, saying hi to the three of you.

“gramma.” you heard a voice say. you picked your head up from austin’s chest, exchanging a confused look. you both looked at presley, who was pointing at lisa’s grave.

“what did she just say?” austin asked aloud. as if she understood austin, she spoke again.

“gramma yisa.” she said again, wriggling out of austin’s arms. you knew her use of yisa was just her being a toddler, but your heart sank at the mention of the nickname you knew elvis used to call lisa marie.

presley stood at the edge of the rocks that edged the area of the graves, reaching out to touch lisa marie’s. as her hand placed to the name plate, the wind picked up again, swirling around the three of you.

“gramma yisa is so happy to meet you, sweet girl.” you said, fighting tears. you looked up at the group, who gathered at the other side of the meditation garden, all of them also in tears.

“she’s so happy you meet you.” austin repeated, pressing a kiss to the top of presley’s head.

you all spent just few more minutes at the meditation garden before making your way back to the guest house for the night. you all dispersed from the lobby, going to your rooms for the night. you’d fallen behind, marveling at the staircase in the lobby, the replication of the one that was in the front of the mansion. you still couldn’t believe that you were here, and you couldn’t believe the day that you’d had.

“heavy day, huh?” a voice said behind you. you turned and saw austin walking up to you.

“very heavy.” you sighed, falling into his arms. “where’s presley?” you asked him.

“she’s with harper and finely. i told them she could hang out with them for a little bit before bed.” he said to you. you nodded against his chest. “they’re obsessed with her.”

“everyone is. im grateful that she already has so many people in her life that love her this much. i just hope it stays this way.” you sighed. you felt austin press a kiss to the top of your head before giving your shoulders a squeeze.

“it will.” he began, “for as long as they’ll have us, we’ll always be part of the presley family.”