#queue eight four;

[daisyssousa]

@giftober 2023 | day twenty-three: hands ↳ tara & willow's first spell together

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ok Wild Angsters, you wanted a continuation, so here you go :)

Four already knew what he would be walking into. His phone had been blowing up for hours. He’d come in to work early. Whether he was assigned to take care of Wild or not was another matter - Vaati loved to try and take all the admissions, convinced he was the best nurse on the unit. If Four could just keep Vaati out of Wild’s room, he’d consider it a success.

When the charge nurse told him he would be admitting the trauma alert, he knew who he was getting.

Pre-admission jitters always made Four anxious, but this was an entirely other level of fear. He almost wanted to request a different assignment, but it was too late now. What if he couldn’t take caer of him because he was his friend? What if that impair his decision making? What if he just wasn’t skilled enough to handle it? He knew Ezlo wouldn’t give him an assignment he couldn’t handle, wouldn’t be there to support him, but still…

Four went over the supplies in his room once more. Safety checks were fine—they had suction, they had a bag valve mask, the code card was nearby—and he had all the supplies he needed. It was just a waiting game.

Four paced the unit at least three times before he looked at the OR status board again. Wild was still in surgery. He poked in his chart, glancing at injuries, looking at vital signs and anesthesia notes. The last update he saw was that Wild had gotten another unit of blood. Estimated blood loss so far was around 2200mL.

2200mL. That… wasn’t too terrible, Four supposed. He’d… seen worse.

Please don’t get worse.

Four knew for certain that Wild had been mass transfused in the ED. Warriors, his primary nurse when he was there, had told him as much. Between that and the multiple blood products he’d gotten in surgery, as well all the crystalloids he was likely getting as well…

Four took a breath. Then another. He grabbed his phone, texting Warriors. You doing ok?

Wars didn’t reply.

Four wasn’t entirely sure where everyone was at this point. Hyrule had stayed at the hospital, lingering in the emergency department and then the operating room waiting area, but Four hadn’t seen him since he’d clocked in. Warriors and Legend should be getting off shift now, but whether they were going to stay up was another matter. Time was obviously in the OR (Wild’s wreck had been around 10pm, he’d arrived in the ED around 10:45, and he’d been stabilized for surgery and gone to the OR by around midnight - it was 7am now… he wasn’t sure how long this was going to take, but it couldn’t be much longer). Malon should be getting on shift now as well - she had come in last night when everything had gone down, alongside Twilight. Wind had been cautiously left out of the loop until Wild had gone to surgery, simply because nobody had really had much information at the time, so no one wanted to worry the kid until they could figure things out. Everyone had their hands full as it was. But by now, Four knew Wind was either in the OR waiting room, harassing every respiratory therapist he knew, or in the hospital library pacing anxiously. As for Sky, the last Four heard he was bouncing between different people, checking in on everyone.

He clicked through more anesthesia notes, looked at flow sheets for blood products. There wasn’t much to go on, as charting was sparse. What Four did know was that Wild had been obtunded, got mass transfused, had gotten a chest tube, had been intubated, blood was evident in his abdomen, and he had an open femur fracture. He’s been taken to Time’s OR for a ex-lap. Head CT had shown a bleed, and they were monitoring it. That was all the information Legend had told the group when he’d had a moment to spare.

Four’s vocera activated, telling him he had a call from the charge nurse. When he answered, he was told Malon had called and said they’d be finishing up in about thirty minutes and were likely to come up open.

Why was he coming up with his abdomen open? When had they gone from exploratory laparotomy to a full on open abdomen?

Ten minutes later, Malon called back to give report. When Four answered, the first thing he asked was, “How’s he doing? Is he okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Malon said, even though she sounded exhausted. “And he’s… hanging in there. I’ve seen worse, I’ll say that. I’ll give you the full rundown, okay?”

Four listened as Malon gave report, feeling his heart settled into his stomach, which was tying itself in knots. Multiple spots of bleeding, possible compartment syndrome in his abdomen, a likely kidney injury due to compression from the bleeding on some major vessels, a small hematoma in his brain… they’d had to call neurosurgery to do an emergency craniotomy out of overt concern of swelling, given that Wild had apparently had previous head trauma, based on what they saw in the OR.

Open abdomen, craniotomy, ICP monitoring, bleeding, one chest tube… this was a disaster. Four swallowed as he wrote, feeling his hand shake a little as his heart raced. He was not qualified enough to be admitting this. He was not.

But the turnaround on his unit was pretty insane, and he was the most experienced nurse on the unit today. At least Ezlo was charge; he knew he’d be well supported.

This was a nightmare. But Four had dealt with nightmares, and he would deal with this. He wasn’t going to screw up taking care of any patient, but especially his friend.

Sighing, he hung up the phone after thanking Malon, pushing worries for her and Time aside, trying to focus on what he would need, who he should grab to help him, and how he should prep his room.

It was time to get to work.

When everyone arrived from the OR, Four made brief eye contact with Time. He couldn’t read much from the man, who was stone faced, aside from the exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes. Four got to work quickly, assessing Wild from head to toe as he looked to see what IV medications he was on. A coworker wrote the note while Ezlo helped detangle his lines (the OR always brought up a mess, after all). Time gave an overview of the surgery, and Four listened along as he checked pupils, as he zeroed the arterial line and the ICP monitor, as he listened to lung and heart sounds, as he checked the chest tube and stripped it with his fingers to ensure patency, as he checked peripheral pulses, as he looked at the abdominal dressing to get a baseline in case there was swelling from bleeding later. One of the techs connected the chest tube to wall suction, and Four looked over his drips. Only having levophed at 2 wasn’t terrible, and he was getting a unit of red blood cells, which was in a transfusion set that was y’d to some lactated ringers fluid. He was on propofol for sedation. Another nurse grabbed a blood gas from his arterial line and sent off labs. His foley he had was temp sensing, and Four quickly ascertained that Wild was cold, so he set up the blanket warmer and covered his friend up.

His friend. His friend.

Four shook his head. He had to focus.

As Time left the room, he put a hand on Four’s shoulder, making him freeze. The surgeon didn’t speak, just locking eyes with him. Four wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own benefit or not. But he had no more time to let his emotions make any decisions for him. He nodded to the doctor, who nodded in return, and then the two went their separate ways.

This was going to be a long day.

[paigemathews]

abi’s three hundred one hundred follower celebration: choose your three favorite charmed ships | chris halliwell & bianca atwood

the absolutely chokehold these two have on me. enemies to lovers. changing sides and becoming a better person. finding love when you didn’t think yourself worthy of it. finding this one piece of happiness is a world destroyed and having to sacrifice it to the save the world that never did anything for you. risking your love on the hope that you’ll meet again in a new world.

[pixelguzzler]

Hiya, so, probably gonna end up a bit of a longer post; eight months ago I started posting art and it felt like almost immediately it got swept up in attention I did *not* expect, within a month or two I had like 15 commission requests, no system, no pricing experience, and definitely no concept of my own limits.

Like a fool possessed, I tried to juggle five commissions at a time, then three, then I hit a wall. Or several. Several masculine shaped walls... Turns out I don't know how to draw men very well. Still working on that one.

Fast forward, I've only completed one commission, I owe four people either refunds or art, and the money's already been spent on tuition and textbooks. My commissioners have all been absurdly patient and kind and I am so grateful.

Also: nine months ago I did not know anything about furry culture, now, as you might have gathered from context clues, I am a furry. But I'm still learning the ins and outs regardless.

Anyway- rambling- I'm not leaving or quitting or nothing like that. I'm just kinda trying to rebuild a more solid foundation under my feet. So;

Refunds: in progress. I'm doing them as I can. If you're waiting on one, you can DM me and I'll update you directly.

Commissions: are on hold until I say differently still, I'm working on building real structure this time. Actual queue limits! Clearer terms! Woo

Kofi: open! Members get pixel layers, WIP sketches, regular behind the scenes nonsense.

Anyway. thank you to my commissioners for being actual saints. Thank the rest of y'all too for liking my silly little drawings and shitposts. Hopefully round 2 goes a little smoother! Thanks for sticking around while I figure stuff out.

[kaiyunsim]

3 minutes —

pairing : sunshine!jaehee x gn!reader

summary : after accepting a stupid bet from sion, a twenty-eight day countdown began where you have to confess to your long time crush, kim jaehee, or else you don’t talk to him ever again.

warnings : fluff, crack, lots of overthinking and second-hand embarassment, mutual yearning (i think?), very cute !!, featuring sion :>

a/n : i made this in april… hehe enjoy !!

queueing : 3 minutes - nct wish, for: you - kali uchis, wishful thinking - grentperez, trouble - laufey, all i can say - kali uchis

00:00 — our time is running out, not long to go

you’re two days away from a full blown emotional crisis, and sion is making it worse.

he's lying on your bed, legs crossed in the air like he owns the place, scrolling through his phone while your heart slowly melts into the floor. across the room, your whiteboard sits smugly above your desk, mocking you with thick black marker.

“CONFESS TO HIM BEFORE THE 30TH - or never speak of it again !!”

"so," sion says, popping a chip into his mouth. "do you want me to play sad violin music now, or should i wait until you actually chicken out?"

you groan, face planting into your pillow. “i’m not chickening out.”

"suureeee.”

he's not wrong. the bet felt easy four weeks ago. just something dumb to say when you were tired and frustrated and in denial about liking jaehee since the beginning of time. it wasn’t supposed to be real.

but now it’s the 28th. you’re running out of time.

and because you're stupid, you're gonna stick to your word and drop the entire idea of liking him if you don't muster up the courage to confess soon. 'it's a waste of time if it continues any longer, right?'

"c'mon y/n, do it sooner or later." sion cuts off your rambling thoughts. he probably knew that you were overthinking again.

"okay but what if-"

"what if this, what if that. keep making up excuses, time won't stop for you." he says, rolling his eyes at how repetitive you are with each excuse you make. "just do it, if he likes you, you get together. if he doesn't, life goes on"

ugh, sion makes it sound sooo easy. you just want it to be perfect, something you won't look back and start visibly cringing.

“why did i take this stupid bet” you say, burying your face into your pillow once again.

“because you’re sad and delusional.” sion answers almost immediately, like his answer is default. he pops another chip in his mouth. “also because i basically dared you to, and you’re, tragically, a people pleaser.”

your groans from the couch grow in sound causing sion to chuckle.

it was all supposed to be some stupid joke. seeing jaehee open a door for a random sophomore and the signature smile he gives was just so boyfriend coded.

‘he’s nice to everyone’ you repeat to yourself but you can’t stop your heart from beating a little faster when he’s around or your face from heating up when he smiles at you.

especially not since the rainy day after exams

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| |

you’re darting across campus, arms wrapped around your textbooks like a shield, and rain starts to pour down. now you’re left crouched under a lone tree, drenched and muttering to yourself.

then jaehee appears, umbrella in hand, offering the perfect half‑circle of coverage.

“you look like you’re auditioning for a depressed main character,” he jokes, voice calm as raindrops drip onto his hair. “mind if i…?”

he tilts his umbrella just enough so you can slip underneath. you mumble “thank you,” but he waves it off.

“it’s nothing. i do this for anyone who’s caught in the rain.”

and you believe him because every time you see him, he’s doing exactly that. opening doors, carrying groceries, dropping off lost phones. yet in that moment, shoulder to shoulder and both soaked at the hem, it feels undeniably, achingly… personal.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| |

you peel the pillow off your face and sigh.

“i’m going to throw up,” you mutter into the ceiling.

“just confess,” sion says. “three minutes. that’s all you need. you’ve liked him for forever. what’s the worst that happens?”

you don’t answer. sion sets a three minute timer and slams his phone on the desk.

“you’ve got three minutes to tell me how you would confess”

you freeze. no rehearsed speech. no mental preparation. everything was gone except embarrassment and panic.

0:57 — ballads, classic music, they sure are great, not my style though

random drafts clutter your desk. on a normal day it would be covered with neatly color-coded notes, but today, it’s a messy group of small notes and crafts, things you wanted to give to jaehee. a letter of random yaps stand out from the rest.

“i like the way you say my name”

“your hands are really nice”

“do you wanna get ramen sometime..? or never speak to me again. either works”

you stare at the page and seriously consider setting it on fire. only thing stopping you is the fire alarm going off… and sion

“stupid sion, stupid ideas…” you mumble quietly, crumpling the draft and throwing it at the garbage where it misses.

to your surprise, sion starts humming behind you before walking over, grabbing the draft, and tossing it back to you. he definitely heard you slandering him behind his back.

“like you have better ideas. remember when you spent three days trying to find out and memorize his schedule to try and ‘bump into him’ coincidentally?” he spits out while rolling his eyes like you’re a lost cause.

you throw the pen that you were using at him, only for it to hit his leg with no reaction.

“you folded without him even seeing you and you walked past him. god, it was so embarrassing, i wish i recorded it.” sion continues.

“okay so what is this slander i’m recieving.”

“i’m just saying, you’re gonna have to try harder” he says as he goes to his own room.

when he finally walks off and stops bothering you, you cover you face with your hands, trying to come up with ideas.

dramatic scene? cute promposal? letter in his locker?

you give up, but nothing feels worse than how jaehee keeps acting normal.

he likes your stories, replying to them with things like, “LMFAO ur so unserious.” he even waved to you this morning. the sleepy eyed, hoodie-draped, and unbothered jaehee. doing literally anything like your heart isn’t currently on life support.

you wish he’d do something, anything, to give you a reason to run or stay. instead, he keeps being, well… jaehee. kind, warm, and impossibly close.

[queue a confession plan montage]

you draft text messages before deleting them. you consider fake crying in front of him to get his attention. you rehearse dramatic lines in the mirror like, “if i don’t say this now, i never will”

sion just watching all of this happen in horror. “you need a nap and a divine intervention.”

and just like that, time passes by a little too fast and the clock hit’s midnight.

one day left

sion sighs, “enough. it’s not about the how. just do it. three minutes of courage, remember?” he says, reassuring you with each hand on your shoulder. “doesn’t matter what you say. it matters that you say it.”

you’re almost out of time and somehow you’re still not ready enough to tell the boy who’s always been there that you’ve had feelings for him for a while now. it doesn’t help that you guys can have a normal conversation and he stands there, completely unaware that you’re counting down the minutes like a ticking time bomb, like the world was going to explode.

1:57 — skip the intro, need no outro

you wake up after staying up till two in the morning. it’s not like it’s easy to sleep after finding out you have less than 24 hours to confess.

the sound of the alam is screaming at you. not ringing, not chiming, screaming.

sometime last week sion changed you alarm’s name to “WAKE UP OR DIE” which is quite fitting actually since you’re halfway to cardiac arrest when you see the time.

class started 15 minutes ago.

the last class with jaehee

your last chance.

you bolt upright, take a deep breath of regret, and trip over your own feet before trying to get out of bed. your voice croaks on impact.

“ow- what the… i sound like a dying goat.”

of course you get a sudden sore throat that makes your voice extra raspy, not the best for confessions.

and just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you go to your bathroom for a mirror check. disaster confirmed.

your hair looks like you just lost a wrestling match with a random squirrel and your hoodie is wrinkled beyond saving. gotta love that bed hair and sleeping with your hoodie.

“i can’t confess like this,” you mutter, voice still raspy, a little better though after you chug a glass of water. you yank your hoodie’s hood up in shame.

but you have two choices.

1. hide in your room forever and never speak to kim jaehee ever again.

2. show up to class, late, looking like someone’s worst picture day photo and pray he still looks at you the same.

of course, you choose humiliation.

getting there was… an experience. your bag was bouncing like crazy, slung on your shoulder. you can’t count how many times it almost fell off of it.

but by some miracle, you arrive outside the lecture hall just as class ends. time is actually running out and it’s all hitting you now.

your heart is pounding. you’re seconds from turning around and admitting defeat when-

you see him

jaehee. leaning against the wall in the hallway. backpack slung over one shoulder, scrolling through his phone, waiting for no one

or maybe you.

your breath catches. not because he sees you, but because he doesn’t. not right away at least

suddenly, your care about the way you look disappears. because if you turn around you, you’ll regret it forever.

you step forward, voice gone, thoughts racing, hands shaking.

jaehee looks up. his eyes catch on you instantly. and he smiles. that same smile that is so precious that it makes you want to frame it.

“yo, you look like you just fought a wind tunnel. you okay?”

you open your mouth. nothing comes out. not even a word. just-

“i—uh—hh—hi” you manage to get out.

your voice breaks. like, full on voice crack catastrophe. jaehee blinks then laughs like nothings wrong.

“you sick or something?”

you shake your head, clutching your chest like it’ll steady your heart. “just tired”

he tilts his head, feeling like he’s watching you a little longer than necessary. “you sure?”

you nod. and somehow that gives you the nerves to say, “can we talk? after school?”

his expression shifts. just slightly. curious. gentle “yeah. of course”

and that’s it. you don’t run. you don’t faint. you just walk away, hoodie clutched tight and stomach flipping.

it wasn’t the best confession, but it was something.

2:47 — turn the beat up, volume up, tune out the noise and now listen here.

you don’t see the text.

you’re halfway through spiraling in your locker mirror, trying to flatten your hair with your sleeve and mouth a pep talk to your reflection. when jaehee’s message comes in.

[jaehee: where should we meet?]

[jaehee: or i can just wait outside?]

you don’t check your phone, you don’t check anything. but you begin to make your way to the same hallway you encountered him earlier.

you’re too deep in your head. rehearsing lines you won’t remember. praying your heart doesn’t fall out of your chest and onto the hallway floor.

and then you turn a corner.

so does he.

he’s looking at his phone. you’re completely zoned out.

bam.

it’s not a full-on crash, but it’s enough to knock you off balance, hands flailing, a soft “ah !” slipping out, heart immediately doing parkour in your chest.

“oh—sorry—”

you look up.

jaehee. his hoodie. his smile. his dumb, perfect face.

“whoa, that’s my bad,” he says, already steadying you by the arm. “you okay?”

your mouth opens. and before you can stop yourself, it all comes out, “i like you.”

you don’t even realize you’ve said it until it’s out in the air. soft, sudden, too fast. like slipping on a step you thought was solid.

jaehee freezes.

you swear you see his eyebrows twitch, just slightly, and his grip on your arm loosens in slow motion. he blinks. then stares. not confused, not shocked. just… processing.

and your body goes cold.

“i—” your voice shakes. “i didn’t mean to say it like that. or here. or now. it wasn’t supposed to be in a hallway after i almost headbutted you—”

he doesn’t say anything.

you keep going. rambling like your brain is sprinting to outrun your shame.

“i had this whole plan. i mean, kind of. okay not really. i panicked, like, a lot. there was going to be a letter. then a conversation. now it’s just—word vomit.”

you force a laugh. it dies halfway out of your mouth.

“i like you. surprise, i guess. i swear i’m not usually this much of a mess.”

you glance up. he’s still looking at you. and then, finally.

he smiles.

not a huge one. not a smirk. just this soft, lopsided curve that starts in his eyes before it hits his lips. like the truth of what you said has landed and he’s letting it settle.

“do you want to try again,” he says quietly, “but slower this time?”

you stare. “what?”

he shrugs, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “i want to hear you say it again. but, y’know… like you mean it.”

“i do mean it,” you say, breath catching.

“then say it. slower. this time I’ll listen with both ears.”

he’s teasing, just a little. but his voice is so calm. so real. like he’s trying to make it easier for you to breathe. so you do. you inhale, exhale, and look him in the eyes.

“i like you,” you say again. “you’re kind. and funny. and too nice sometimes. and i’ve been trying to ignore it, but every time you smile or laugh or say my name like it’s not a big deal, i just—” you pause. “i like you. a lot.”

he watches you. his smile softens. and this time, he steps closer.

“i was hoping that’s what you were going to say,” he murmurs. “i’ve kind of been waiting.”

your breath hitches. “you have?”

he laughs. quiet, sweet, like the sound of a secret being kept safe. “you think i just replied to all those 2 a.m. memes and came to study sessions for fun?”

your mouth gapes. “i thought you were just… being nice!”

“i am nice,” he grins, “but not that nice.”

you both laugh. and it’s quiet again, but not the heavy kind. this silence feels full. like the space right before a song drops.

like waiting for the best chorus to begin.

3:00 — a whole three minute song is a weird flex

you’re not sure how long you walk.

you don’t even remember where you were going anymore. the hallway doesn’t matter. the clock doesn’t matter. it’s just the two of you, side by side, your hand almost brushing his, your heart still caught somewhere between your ribs and the ceiling.

jaehee is smiling, not the ‘too polite’ kind, not the ‘just being friendly’ kind, it’s small and real, like he’s holding this moment with both hands.

“you’re really quiet,” he says eventually, glancing over at you.

you blink like you just woke up from a dream. “am i?”

“you haven’t said a full sentence in like… five minutes.”

you groan softly and rub your hands over your face. “sorry. i think my brain exploded.”

he laughs. “it’s okay. i kinda liked the word vomit version too.”

you glare at him playfully. “can you not call my deepest emotional breakthrough vomit? only i can call it that.”

“fine,” he teases. “emotional confetti. better?”

you roll your eyes, but the situation makes your cheeks burn. because this is real. this is really happening. you said it. he heard it. he smiled.

but your chest still feels tight. your thoughts still loop like a broken record. you mumble, mostly to yourself, “i don’t know what i’m supposed to do now…”

“what do you mean?”

you shrug, eyes fixed on your shoes. “i’ve never actually… gotten here. past the crush part. past the chaos. this is the part where i usually, i don’t know, daydream?”

you laugh, but it’s fragile. your voice trembles on the edges. “what if i mess it up? or get weird? or scare you off?”

jaehee stops walking. you feel his hand barely graze yours again.

then, he laces your pinky with his. just that. not a full handhold. not a bold move. just a promise in miniature.

“then we take it slow,” he says. “we figure it out. together.”

you stare at your tangled pinkies. your voice is a whisper. “you really like me?”

“is that a serious question after like three confessions and a hallway collision?”

you grin. and it finally sinks in.

he likes you.

you like him.

and somehow… that’s enough.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| |

somewhere across campus, sion is binging some show in your shared dorm room, phone in hand, waiting for your dramatic all-caps text. instead, he gets this,

[you: i did it.]

[you: i think he likes me.]

[you: like. actually.]

ten seconds later:

[sion: SHUT. UP.]

[sion: YOU ACTUALLY SAID IT?!]

[sion: OMG YOU’RE A LEGEND I’M GOING TO FRAME THIS]

[sion: did you cry. be honest.]

[sion: IS HE HOLDING YOUR HAND.]

you smile down at the screen.

jaehee peeks over your shoulder. “who’s that?”

“sion. he’s been emotionally invested in this since day one.”

“should i say hi?”

“if you do, he might rub it in my face that he was right and that you did like me.”

jaehee grins. “we’ll save that for the next confession, then.”

and you just… laugh. because maybe love doesn’t need fireworks or speeches.

maybe all it needs is a little chaos, a little courage, and someone who smiles when you stumble.

three minutes is enough time after all.

ty for reading :>

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver @solkver @lov3lyaaru @tanghuyuj

nct wish taglist : @solkver @j4d

[notdotspot]

Dp x Dc We Meet Again

Masterpost

Tim was waiting impatiently in his normal corner of the Bat Burger. He finds it difficult to sit still when he is so close to clues about his dreams. Despite his anger at Bruce for benching him, the ten hours of sleep did grant him reprieve from his visions. He thought sleeping would have reawoken the nightmares, but Tim had dreamless sleep for the first time in years. In retrospect, he does not even have clear memories past the forty-eight-hour mark, so his research after that time was nothing but jumbled thoughts. At least now he is not plagued with paranoia and that creature lurking in the outskirts of his vision. He could take the chance to get some fuel in his body, though Damian would argue a burger and fries are not sufficient nutrients for their nighttime activities, and put his rest towards quality investigation. 

The door chimed as new customers walked in. Tim glanced up to see Jason walking towards him. Tim would have directed his attention back to his food if he had not noticed Jason speaking to someone behind them. Leading the mystery person to the table where he was sitting. 

“Trust me he is chill. He might actually be able to help.” Jason’s attention turns to Tim. “I brought someone for you to meet. I do not think he is working for Ras but I think he knows something about the Lazarus Pits.”

“Hi, I am Phantom,” says a boy as he pops out from behind Jason.

Tim freezes the second their eyes meet. Those green eyes sent him right back to the clearing he found himself in four nights ago. The black figure whose whole being radiated fear and death. A glowing green aura and eyes to match. Eyes he has seen a thousand times since his dream. Eyes that were burned onto the back of his eyelids. Eyes that he thought he escaped after sleeping off his exhaustion. Eyes he had nearly chalked up to being a fictional dream and a symptom of delirium. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, but the darkness does not cover the blazing green of those eyes. His ears are ringing and his heart is pounding out of his chest. A firm hand grips his shoulder and his eyes spring open, meeting Jason's clear blue eyes. 

Tim finally registers his voice, “Hey, Timmy! Are you good?”

A voice off to the side speaks quietly, “Is he okay? Should I  leave?”

“No!” Tim forces out, quickly. “Stay. I need answers.”

The boy, Phantom he remembers, hesitantly slides into the booth.

“I can try.”

“What are you?” Tim asks with a bit too much aggression. Jason smacks him on the back of the head. 

“Do not be rude, dipshit. He is willing to help and he does not seem like a threat.”

“Were you not just chasing him through the city earlier?” Tim accuses.

Phantom interrupts, “Yes, but it was all fun and games. I try not to interfere with human realms.”

“So, you are not human?” Tim’s scrutinizing gaze tears through him. Jason goes to slap him again but Tim catches his hand, giving him a dirty look.

“Be nice.”

Tim raises his hands in surrender but his guarded posture remains. “Okay. Okay. Can you, please, queue us in on your existence?” 

“Sure! I am a ghost from a different realm,” he says, casually, “It can not be that crazy. You have a Kryptonian on your planet and he is a ghost, too.” Phantom points at Jason.

“I mean, well, kind of. Not in the same way that I am but he reeks of tainted ectoplasmic residue. He has seen death. I can feel it.” 

“What? I am a ghost?”

Phantom turns to Jason. “Not quite. It is like the difference between fish and aquatic mammals. Ghosts, or for the sake of this analogy fish, survive within water. They rely on it for habitat and food sources, but they also breathe it. You are like an aquatic mammal, you seem to also rely on the water, or ectoplasm, for survival, but you do not breathe it. If my inference is right, you require your human functions to be alive but without ectoplasmic energy, you would unravel. You would be like a beached whale, still alive, but slowly shutting down without water. There is likely a more scientific approach but no way to know for sure without a lab.”

“Cool.” Jason stands from his spot. “Good enough for me. I am getting food. Your usual, Tim?”

“Sure,” Tim says blankly, eyes never leaving Phantom. 

“Anything for you, kid?”

“Not a kid, but I will take a number three. Thank you.” Jason walks around the corner to place the order. Tim’s eyes harden.

“My turn. Why are you haunting me?”

“I am not. Haunting is not a real thing. Just some GIW propaganda to make people subconsciously fear ghosts. A haunt is a ghost’s safe space and a term stolen and twisted by humans,” he replies, cooly. There is a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

“Okay, so why did I see you in my dreams? What is the GIW?”

“The GIW stands for Guys in White. Some secret government organization under the guise of public security. They research and hunt ghosts. To the dream question, I do not know, but I am flattered.”

“I am serious. Night terror level dreams.”

Phantom seemed to soften. “Look, I really do not know. Maybe you had a recent brush with death. Sometimes close encounters wear down the line between our realms. I am sorry. They will go away with time.”

Jason slams the food tray down, sliding into the booth next to Tim. 

“Thank you, uhh?”

“Red Hood,” Tim answers for him, seeing as Jason had already slid back his helmet for a bite of burger. 

“I am Tim.”

They eat silently as Tim and Phantom’s eyes flicker back and forth. Jason finishes quickly, and with his helmet back in place, turns to Phantom.

“So, is the Lazuras Pit ectoplastic?”

“Ectoplasm? Umm. Do you have a picture?”

Tim wipes his hands and grabs his phone. He takes a moment to scroll and type before turning the screen, displaying a picture of a glowing green pit.

“Oh. One hundred percent ectoplasm.”

“Is there a way to fix me? Should I swim in it again?”

“Again? No. You never should have in the first place. It looks dirty. I can infuse you with fresh ectoplasm. With the right amount, it should last you about the same time as a normal human lifespan. I would need a few days to do the calculations and maybe consult some colleagues.” 

“Colleagues?” Jason questions.

“People I know. They would know more than me about ectoplasm specifics. I will make the trip soon.” 

Tim speaks up, having tucked his phone away, “Could you get rid of the Lazarus Pit?”

“I think so. It would need some purification but, theoretically, I could send it back to the ghost zone.”

Tim turns to Jason, “I think you need to brief B. We could solve more than one issue with Phantom’s help.”

Phantom’s phone begins to ring. He pulls it from a pocket that was definitely not there before.

“I have to take this. Thank you for the meal.” He exits the booth, answering the phone. 

“Hey, Frostbite. Perfect timing! I have some questions for you.”

As Phantom neared the door, already engrossed in his conversation, Tim calls out, “How will we contact you?”

“I will find you!”

-----------

Linked the master post bc I am lazy and don't want to link each part individually

I can't stop writing. I am about to get busy with personal work, so updates may slow down. I was posting a chapter a day but I don't know if I can keep up with that as this story gets longer. I will try to find a schedule quickly!

Thank you for reading!

[daisyssousa]

@giftober 2023 | day twenty-two: yellow ↳ daisy's yellow sweater

[torukmaktoskxawng]

'anla - part eight (finale)

Series Masterlist

Summary: Y/n and Ao'nung's future is revealed as Pandora is thrown into war.

Pairing: Ao'nung/Fem!Na'vi!Sully Reader

Warnings: Fluff, romance, mentions of mating, implied sexual content, injury, mentions of birth, mentions of death, etc. (I'd considered NSFW but for only, like, three or four paragraphs)

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Tag: #'anla ao'nung fic

Na'vi Words: Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, tsurak - skimwing, Sänrr Rong - Glow Tunnel, marui - house/pod, nga yawne lu oer - I love you, kuru/tswin - queue braid, tsaheylu - the bond, ilu - plesiosaur like animal, ma muntxate - my mate/spouse/wife, olo'eyktan - clan leader, tsahik - spiritual leader, sa'sem - parents, ikran - mountain banshee, pa'li - horse like animal, olo'eykte - female clan leader, ma'txe'lan - my heart, tulkun - whale like animal

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @bangtanxberm @aonungmyaddiction @lv9su @aisselasstuff @yourusername1 @amortencjja @king-julian6201 @gg-trini @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @mikeyswifie @heart-an0n @iloveavatar @urdads-gf  @kentfisherswifee6 @sakurayuki8655-blog @ken-zah @nilrilie @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @iovemoonyy @sopluto @frvv

A/N: As my first attempt at writing for Avatar comes to a close, I want to thank everyone on ao3 and tumblr for the breathtaking support for this series! I could not have continued without your love for this fic and it only makes me want to write more for this fandom and for you!

THREE YEARS LATER...

The war against the Sky People ended up spreading across all of Pandora. More clans got involved and the Na'vi grew in numbers, rallying to the call of Toruk Makto. Jake was a soldier by heart, and he knew, deep in his gut, that this war would be his last, win or lose, and hopefully, it would be the last defense against the Sky People once and for all. He was determined to make this world clean, free of war, and with a future far brighter for his remaining children. Although, they weren't considered children anymore.

Jake Sully, as a soldier, knew that wars could drag on for years, and his own war was no exception. In order to secure a future for his children, he had to sacrifice watching said children grow up right out from under his nose.

Y/n and Lo'ak were quick to grow up. Blink and you would have missed it. After Neteyam was killed, they assumed the role of older siblings and didn't hesitate to take charge and take responsibility in the upcoming battles. Jake found it difficult to accept them as warriors and send them off to fight so soon after Neteyam, but he didn't have much of a choice. He needed every able-body out there, and by Na'vi law, his oldest daughter and son were fully grown and of the People.

It didn't help that Ao'nung and Tsireya were now in the picture and the Sully family now extended to them. Jake nearly felt blindsided that the very children he had known since birth fell in love with the son and daughter of the Metkayina clan leaders. After discovering Ao'nung and Y/n's courtship, Jake helplessly watched as Lo'ak quickly completed his Iknimaya and began to court Tsireya as well. Jake was relieved to see that both Ao'nung and Y/n waited on becoming mates, but they had waited for a different reason entirely. If it weren't for the war, they would have done so much sooner.

The Sky People didn't wait as long to retaliate against the Na'vi like they did last time. The humans fought back without giving the Metkayina much room to breathe, so in favor of fighting back, everything was put on hold, including Y/n's courtship with Ao'nung. Toruk Makto had hoped that they would wait until the end of the war, but as he said before, wars sometimes last years, and even Jake knew that war sometimes brought people closer together just as often as it drove them apart. The clans scattered around Pandora were no exception. 

Other Na'vi clans, even the more violent ones, were starting to answer Jake's call to war, agreeing to many peace treaties in exchange for eradicating the Sky People once and for all. While Jake was elsewhere, rallying other clans at his disposal, the Metkayina had a brief window of peace while waiting for reinforcements, and many took advantage of this time to be with their loved ones before war forced them apart once more. 

Ao'nung and Y/n were among those who took advantage of this. Slipping away and into the night, they grab their tsurak and take off. Ao'nung brings her to Sänrr Rong��with the promise of surprising his love. The Glow Tunnel greets her favorite guests with the same beautiful, bioluminescent archway... but there was a new sight that Y/n had never seen before. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp at the sight of a small raft with a marui built on top, floating beneath the arch, rocking steadily along the small waves caused by their approach. It was simple but elegant, the mouth of the pod leading out to a small, wooden lookout. To avoid floating away, the top of the marui was tied up against the wall of the tunnel.

Ao'nung watched Y/n's reaction with a proud grin, "I made it myself."

"It is beautiful," she whispered breathlessly, "Thoughtful."

The tsurak swam up to the marui and waited until their riders had pushed themselves up onto the platform before swimming away. Ao'nung and Y/n both stood on the floating platform, craning their necks to look up at the very top of the archway, marveling at the ceiling of glowing algae all around them. They could have stayed that way for hours, Ao'nung standing behind Y/n, arms wrapped steadily around her as they continued to enjoy their small little haven, no war at the moment to speak of, just them and their Sänrr Rong.

"Ao'nung."

"Hm?"

"I am done waiting."

He tilted his head back down to the young woman in his arms, her siren eyes already waiting for him there. She didn't miss the small glimmer of hope in his eyes that he forced himself to stomp down as he gently moved her until she fully faced him, his hands now resting on either side of her head. He made her look directly at him, but she wouldn't have fought it. She would gladly look at him forever if she had a choice. His eyes flicked over her gaze, trying to spot any sign of doubt or hesitancy,

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered without wasting a moment between breaths, leaning into his hands, "I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. For life."

His smile is unlike any other, so bright and joyful as if she had just given him the world. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, whispering into her skin, "I have always been yours... even when I didn't know it."

"I know," a faint smile etched into her lips, leaning into his kiss, "But I'm done holding back for the sake of war and our families. We've been courting for years now. Please don't make me wait any longer."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he chuckles under his breath, guiding the both of them to kneel across from each other on the wooden platform. Keeping his hands on her face, he quickly lands a soft kiss on her lips, "Nga yawne lu oer."

"I love you, too," she whispered, heart hammering in her chest like it never had before.

"Say the word, Forest Girl, and I'm yours."

"Please."

She whimpered quietly when he leaned away but the excitement took over when he had reached back to pull his kuru braid from over his shoulder. Y/n did so as well, reaching out for him with her free hand. She let out a breathy laugh when Ao'nung took it a step further and used his free arm to lift her up into his lap, pulling her flush against him as if they were already one soul. But it wasn't enough. Y/n squirmed at the thought of being even closer, more than they'd ever been before. With their queues in hand, they both held their breath as the tswin slowly began to entangle with each other, and the reactions they made when the tendrils completely tied together were instantaneous. 

Y/n tilted her head up as the air left her lungs, overcome by this new feeling, able to sense Ao'nung everywhere in her mind and body. His torso, pressed tightly against hers, expanded harshly when he breathed out, and through their bond, Y/n was able to feel his arousal when his nose detected her scent. She instinctively clung to him at the thought, her excitement spreading out through their new bond as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck. Ao'nung's hands slide up her whole spine, driving her to arch her back, goosebumps prickling her skin under his touch like electricity. When she finally leaned down to kiss him, the electricity came together in sparks. 

Before she knew it, Y/n was on her back, Ao'nung's weight pressed comfortably between her legs. Comforting and enticing. That is what she felt with his weight on hers, pressing her down against the wooden platform of the floating raft, all her senses filled with Ao'nung and nothing but him. It made her feel complete, whole again for the first time in her entire life. It was both overwhelming and not enough, and Ao'nung could feel that through their shared bond. He fitted himself over her, letting her wrap both of her arms and legs around him until there wasn't even room for air between their bodies. Pleasure began to spike through her when Ao'nung began to touch her, her womb warm with love and anticipation, tightening like a spring as their conjoined bodies began to rock in motion with the waves beneath their raft.

She wasn't sure when she had closed her eyes, but upon opening them again, she could see why Ao'nung hadn't brought her inside the marui for this. On her back, as they made love, she was able to watch the glowing algae twinkle down at her from the ceiling of the archway with awe. That, along with the pleasure Ao'nung brought her, his head buried in her neck, muffling his moans, Y/n felt as though she was floating over clouds, ascending into the equivalent of heaven. Wave after wave of pleasure, coming and receding, edging her to several gently, toe-curling climaxes. 

It may not have been before Eywa or any Spirit Tree most couples would become one under, but here-- in the place they truly fell in love and spent a great deal of time together, it just made sense. This was their place after all. When Ao'nung finally met her in ecstasy, finishing inside her, it was both dizzying and perfect all at once. Hearing her name fall from his lips as they both peaked, Y/n was nearly brought to tears with the amount of love she had for this man. She was excited to spend the rest of her life with him.

They continued to lay there in the afterglow, still connected through the bond, too exhausted to move or have Ao'nung pull out. Y/n knew she wouldn't be able to take his weight forever, but as of right now, she was comfy, and the pleasant sounds he made in her neck when her fingers combed through his hair were just as enticing as tsaheylu. 

"I wish we had done this sooner." She sighed, mourning all the time they could have been truly together without a care in the world.

"I'm not," Ao'nung plants a kiss on a sensitive part in the juncture of her neck, forming goosebumps wherever he touched her, "It may not have been as perfect as it is now if we had mated sooner."

"That is true," her arms tighten around his back, "It was worth the wait."

He brings his head up to hover over hers, her heart stuttering in her chest when her eyes meet his. Ao'nung smiled similarly to when they were younger and just starting to become friends. He smiled like when he first approached her on ilu, inviting her to see Sänrr Rong for the first time. He looked so young again. It wasn't as though a lot of time had passed and they were old, no, but war ages people far more than time could. As children of war, Ao'nung and Y/n were no exception. They had a few scars here and there, and as time and war dragged on, they were given more warrior tattoos to signify their valiant deeds, both along their faces and bodies. They were all grown up, old enough to notice the difference between now and when they first met on that beach several years ago.

Ao'nung leaned down again, placing several kisses all along her face, "Ma muntxate. Ma Y/n."

He whispered those words like confessions-- like he was testing them out on his tongue for the first time and he liked how they sounded. Her eyelashes fluttered while she basked in his attention, equally delighted by her new name as he continued to bathe her in kisses and confessions, "I cannot wait to spend our futures together."

She hums thoughtfully, her mind reverting to realistic goals and expectations, "I suppose we should discuss plans for our future. In case we survive the war."

"When we survive, Forest Girl. When."

"Alright. When we survive," her fingers trace one of his face tattoos, staring down at his lips, "Tell me what you want."

"I think I would like to build a different marui for us, and I want to stay there even when I am olo'eyktan."

"Hm." This request surprised her, "Your father's home is not to your liking?"

"It's in the center of the village. I never liked it there," he hid his face back in her neck, grumbling to himself, "I like it a lot less now at the idea of having to share you with the whole clan."

She snorts quietly, "No need for that. The clan would be better off having your sister as their tsahik than me."

"If that is what you want."

"It is."

"Alright, but I still want a separate marui. My sister can have our sa'sem's when she is tsahik. I know she wants a large family, so it's perfect for her future."

"And what about us? What kind of family do we want?"

Ao'nung hums in thought, "I chose what we should do for our home. You can choose what kind of family shall live in it."

Y/n taps her chin while staring up at the ceiling of the glowing archway, "I don't want a big family. Just one or two babies."

"Could I convince you for three?" He playfully nipped her neck, grinning to himself when a laugh was forced out of her lungs.

Her laugh reverted to soft hums while her hands resumed running through his hair, "Three. And no more than that."

~~~~~~~~~

Once they returned to the village the following afternoon, they were shocked to learn that Lo'ak and Tsireya had wasted no time in mating as well. The entire clan was overjoyed to learn that Tonowari and Ronal's two oldest children had found happiness during this small window of calm before the storm. Neytiri cried out of joy for her children while Kiri and Spider gave their siblings shit-eating grins when they noticed a few teeth marks on the two new couples. Tuk and Kailani just gagged at how sappy their older siblings looked.

When Jake returned to the Metkayina with an army, he found out his eldest daughter and son had found mates. It was like someone had completely tilted Pandora's axis right underneath his feet. Before Toruk Makto could even get used to the idea, he now had a son and a daughter-in-law. The Sullys' bond with the Metkayina had never been stronger.

While Y/n and Lo'ak had found partners, Kiri was focused on becoming the best healer, and Spider was more determined to make himself an active member of the family every day, never again accepting himself as just a stray cat. As for Tuk, the baby of the family, Jake and Neytiri's youngest... well, she had only just begun to start hunting both on land and at sea. And before Jake could manage to wrap his head around that, the Sky People quickly returned, so he didn't have time to think. Instead, he acted, refusing to run again in the hopes of saving his family. This time, his family stood its ground and fought right alongside him.

Like before, the Na'vi still managed to draw the Sky People back to Bridgehead by just the skin of their teeth, and there was a brief window for the respective clans to grieve for their loss and take their small window of peace before the next war made itself known. Everyone knew that the biggest threat was yet to come, and they would need to recruit more Na'vi. Jake wasn't going to take any chances this time, not when he had more to lose.

Not only were his children growing up and marrying off, but they had begun to start families of their own. After the most recent battle, Y/n had found out she was expecting. The Metkayina took this small moment of peace to celebrate the tsahik's and olo'eyktan's first grandchild, overjoyed by Eywa's gift for their recent victory against the Sky People. Neytiri laughed even as she was holding Jake back from trying to kill Ao'nung, joyful tears in her eyes at the realization that her first baby girl was going to have a baby of her own soon. While Jake entrusted both Spider and Lo'ak to give Ao'nung a stern talking to, he took a moment to let the news sink in, still surprised that he was going to be a grandfather.

Even with a baby on the way, Y/n wasn't deterred from fighting. There was still a fire in her eyes that would only grow larger as time went on. Y/n had a reason to fight the Sky People. At first, it was to avenge her twin brother, knowing that Quaritch and Wainfleet were still out there after Spider confessed to saving his biological father. The monsters responsible for Neteyam's death were still alive, and Y/n wanted to fix that. And now, the idea of a child on the way only drove her further to fight, wanting to win this war quickly so that her baby had a future. While Jake wanted to order his daughter to stand down, now more than ever, Neytiri convinced him not to. Both she and Ronal are living proof that it is not hard for pregnant Na'vi to fight and Jake had to remember that Y/n wasn't human and it wouldn't be much of a struggle. Jake only gave in when he saw that same fire in his daughter ignite in his wife's matching eyes. Neytiri was just as determined to fight, if not more. Her husband could see, even with Neteyam gone, that she now had more things worth fighting for.

Even while pregnant, Y/n was still one of the best warriors Jake had on his side. She was still one of the best flyers and best archers, just like her mother. While she wasn't stupid enough to do up close combat in her condition, Y/n still fought her battles from afar, astride her faithful ikran, Evi, and a bow in hand. She flew over every battlefield, whether on land or by sea, her watchful eyes always pinpointing her loved ones out among all the fighting. Y/n tended to fly close to wherever Payakan might be, knowing that Lo'ak would never leave his Spirit Brother vulnerable during the fight. Y/n made sure to always have her little brother's back so that he may protect Payakan, shooting down any sky demon who dared to try killing Lo'ak whenever his back was turned.

Sometimes, depending on where they were on the battlefield, Spider would fly with his sister over the years as the war dragged on. He was a skilled archer as well, and so he often flew with Y/n to scope out dangers from above, since he wasn't entirely capable of fighting for the Na'vi without his own pa'li or tsurak. And if Spider wasn't flying with Y/n, he was flying with Kiri, keeping his best friend safe when she wasn't much of a fighter. Jake was always at peace knowing Kiri would be safe as long as Spider was with her.

Wars came and went, and victories and losses on both sides happened, but Jake believed he got the best victory of all when he got to hold his granddaughter for the first time. Y/n and Ao'nung named her Sìla immediately after she was born instead of waiting to announce it to the rest of the village. They didn't have much of a choice, as the village had been compromised after the latest battle, and unfortunately, everyone needed to evacuate. But after they had all made it to safety, Jake had the honor of being the first to hold Sìla in his arms with the exception of her parents. She was Metkayina, through and through, but even newly born, Jake could see hints of eyebrow hair and an extra finger on each hand, hidden by the infant's clenched fists, physical traits that she no doubt inherited from her mother and her grandfather. Despite forgoing tradition, the clans rejoiced at the first signs of new life in the midst of war.

But Sìla would be the only one born into war. Not long after her birth, her parents and all the other Na'vi managed to eradicate the rest of the Sky People before they could fly back to Earth or call for reinforcements. Again, Jake wasn't taking any chances. With his granddaughter now born, he was just as determined to ensure that the Sky People never returned... for good this time.

With peace finally reaching all corners of Pandora, the Sully family continued to grow. Lo'ak and Tsireya were now expecting a child, and Tuk was now old enough to choose a mate if she so wished. Neither Kiri nor Spider appeared interested in growing families of their own, but Jake was fine with that if that meant he could still have some of his own children to himself. Sìla had only just started to swim and walk on her own when Ao'nung and Y/n announced they were expecting again, and the celebration outweighed the upcoming sadness. Tonowari was heavily wounded in the final battle against the Sky People and was slowly succumbing to his injuries. He had let go and joined Eywa in his sleep after he was told more grandchildren were on the way. Knowing he was at peace, the Metkayina celebrated his life instead of grieving over him, thankful for the legacy he left behind.

Ao'nung was olo'eyktan now, but Y/n had agreed with Ronal that even as his mate, she wouldn't become tsahik. Y/n never wanted that role, even when it was hers for the taking as a child of the Omatikaya. She was not a healer. She was a fighter, so Tsireya would assume that role once Ronal was ready to step down or if she passed away, and Y/n would be known as the clan's olo'eykte. No one questioned the decision, but they were happy for the family's strength in position and legacy, nevertheless.

Speaking of the Omatikaya, Kiri returned to her family's clan after the war and took the role of tsahik at the behest of her dying grandmother. Mo'at was a force to be reckoned with, even in death, so no one questioned her succession, not even Tarsem. Neytiri, Tuk, and Spider also flew back to the Forest with Kiri and stayed until Mo'at had passed. They told her all of their stories as she closed her eyes, smiling as if she were sleeping. She had outlived so many loved ones. She outlived a daughter, a mate, a grandson, and many other friends and family. She had lived long enough to become a great-grandmother, and so when she passed away in her daughter's arms, Neytiri did not cry. Instead, she was incredibly grateful that someone in her life finally managed to live until old age.

When Kiri assumed the role of tsahik, Neytiri decided to stay. She had been separated from her clan for far too long, and she belonged in the forest. She was finally ready to come home. Spider also stayed with the Omatikaya and actually became a teacher for the children of the Na'vi. Grace Augustine's legacy lived on not only through her daughter but through Norm, Max, and all remaining humans who lived on Pandora. Above all, her legacy lived on through a boy who didn't even know her but grew up wanting to teach the Na'vi all that he learned living in two different worlds, worlds that Grace had wanted to share with the children when she was alive.

Tuk decided not to stay with the Omatikaya but didn't travel back to Awa'atlu alone. With the war now over, plenty of clans wished to mix and mingle with one another. So when Tuk returned to the Metkayina, she brought back not only her childhood friend Popiti but at least a dozen Omatikaya warriors who wished to learn the ways of their reef brothers and sisters.

Ao'nung and Tsireya -Ronal had stepped down from tsahik while Tuk was away- gladly welcomed the Omatikaya and Jake watched as Lo'ak and Y/n reunited with old friends and new faces from their mother's village. Even though he wanted to catch up with the warriors from his clan, he didn't want to wait any longer himself. Toruk Makto was anxious to join his wife, daughter, and son back in the Forest, but he wanted to stay long enough to ensure the children who would remain with the Metkayina would be in good hands. Even if they were no longer children, he couldn't help it. He was still their father and even though not all children stay close to their parents, he still wanted to be sure they were loved and cared for before he had to leave them.

Jake found it difficult to regret missing out on so much of his children's lives because of the war, knowing that he would do it all over again if it meant they would get the chance to have a future. He was content knowing that he fought a war so his children would never have to in the future. Instead, they'll get to live their lives and raise their children without the fear of leaving them behind to fight, or worse, lose a child to war as Jake and Neytiri did.

Neteyam was on his father's mind now more than ever, especially as Jake held his first grandson in his arms. He had waited to leave Awa'atlu until after Y/n had given birth again, now honored to meet the first boy in the family's next generation. So far, Lo'ak and Y/n's respective families have only had two girls between them, so the village rejoiced at the birth of the olo'eyktan's first son. Y/n named the baby boy Nokteyam and the meaning behind that name wasn't lost on anyone, especially not on Jake. Tears welled up in his eyes while staring down at Nokteyam, sleeping peacefully in his grandfather's arms. He didn't have a single physical human trait and strangely, he didn't inherit any Metkayina features either. Nokteyam looked exactly like a forest child with all the correct Na'vi fingers, toes, and tail. It only made Jake's heart clench even tighter when he realized Nokteyam looked like his own firstborn son.

When Jake had asked, Y/n firmly stated that she would not be calling her son 'Teyam as a nickname. She claimed she wanted to honor her dead brother's name, not haunt her son by it. No, Y/n named her son Nokteyam but called him Nok for short, so that he'd grow up with his own identity and not the ghost of his uncle's, a young man whom he never had the pleasure of meeting.

Sìla wasn't happy at the idea of being a big sister, mainly because she was barely old enough to grasp the idea of it. But throughout the first week of Nok being in this world, she grew to love her little brother and positively beamed whenever someone told her she was the best big sister. Once Y/n and Ao'nung had settled into the life of parenting a toddler and a newborn, Jake flew back to the Forest, his heart heavy to leave three of his children behind, but was also excited to reunite with his wife and his two adoptive children, along with the Omatikaya.

The Sullys have been divided, but that didn't mean they weren't sticking together. Lo'ak, Y/n, and Tuk were closer than ever, living among the Metkayina, while Jake, Neytiri, Kiri, and Spider worked together to oversee the future of the Omatikaya. Not one Sully was left alone, and that gave Jake some comfort. They all kept in touch and often flew to each other's villages when given the chance. During one of these visits, Y/n told her parents that she was pregnant again, but when she eventually gave birth, neither Jake nor Neytiri was with her this time, oceans away and unaware that they were grandparents again.

Instead of having the three children they agreed upon, Y/n and Ao'nung end up having four, because the third child turned out to be twins. Having twins was inevitable as it had never skipped a generation. First, it was Jake and Tommy, then Neteyam and Y/n... now it was Tawnu and Nangi, both boys and both sporting a healthy mixture of human, forest, and reef features.

Despite having more children than she initially wanted, Y/n could not be happier. However, she was slightly terrified of the idea of having the same amount of children her parents did before losing Neteyam and adopting Spider. What if she made the same mistakes her sa'sem did? This is what she was trying to avoid when she first told Ao'nung she only wanted two babies, worried that she might accidentally favor one child over another, or worse put too much burden and responsibility on one of their shoulders. Ao'nung wasn't worried, however, vocally adamant that his wife was strong and she always learned from her mother and father's mistakes. She was already the best mother in the world just by worrying she'd mess up. The Na'vi only ever want what's best for their children, and Y/n and Ao'nung were no exceptions.

From the beginning, they had both agreed to expose the children to forest and reef life, both mother and father teaching the next generation what they had been taught in their separate, respective clans. While Ao'nung worried about teaching the children to swim from infancy, Y/n made sure her children knew what it felt like to fly.

It was one of her favorite activities to spend time with her children. Only risking to take them one at a time, Y/n would strap one baby to her chest and take her ikran out for a long flight around the island. She did this with all of her children, but never all at once.

Ao'nung also loved when Y/n took one of their children to the skies, but not for the same reason. He enjoyed spending quality time with the remaining three children while his wife was away with the fourth. Like his father before him, Ao'nung was a great and mighty leader, often intimidating by size alone. But to his children, he spoke soft and gently, never raising his voice unless it was to be heard.

The olo'eyktan found himself sitting on the beach, his legs stretched out in the sand with Nangi sitting between them. The baby, only old enough to sit up and nothing else, was playing, in awe of the sand and shells his father provided for him to inspect. Meanwhile, Ao'nung was keeping a watchful eye on Sìla and Nok as they chased one another into the water, never going any deeper than above their waists. Their laughs and squeals of joy can be heard echoing in the winds as they travel through Awa'atlu. Despite the high pitch, it was a peaceful sound and one of Ao'nung's favorites that he liked to replay in his head. He tried to retain as many good memories as possible, still occasionally caught up in the bad ones. While he loved his children always asking him questions, it was always hard to answer why he had a large, wide scar on his right leg.

It was hard enough that Ao'nung barely remembered what happened himself. It happened early on in the war against the Sky People. Lo'ak, younger at the time, told Ao'nung when he woke up from the battle that a sky demon had emptied an assault rifle into his leg. Ao'nung had lost a lot of blood, and at the time, there were Ronal, Kiri, and Mo'at all hard at work, trying to keep him alive and save his leg. Ao'nung couldn't remember the pain or the event leading up to getting injured, but he remembered being in and out of consciousness throughout the whole ordeal, and the faint memory of Y/n screaming and crying his name still haunts him to this day. Y/n, who was heavily pregnant with Sìla at the time, was bargaining with Eywa, pleading for the Great Mother to spare the father of her unborn child and how she didn't deserve to lose anyone else she loved. Whether it was the tag team of tsahiks or Y/n's prayers, Ao'nung had miraculously survived, and he had fully healed just in time to be there for his mate when she went into labor.

Ao'nung tries to remember the birth of his first and only daughter over the memory of his injury, and sometimes he prefers telling Sìla the story of her birth over the time he nearly died. He doesn't mind the scars, but the memories behind them are terrifying. His children make them better -they make everything better- by admiring the scars and talking about how brave their father is. They like the scars. Like the songcord, scars tell the children of Na'vi a story, and it makes Ao'nung filled with pride.

His thoughts are interrupted by the familiar screech of an ikran. Looking up with a smile, he sees Evi, the light blue banshee with gold lightning running up her figure, flying up ahead. Life is a little funny and ironic as Ao'nung fondly thinks. 'Funny that the first time he ever met Evi, she was nearly ready to eat him, and ironic how her rider would someday become his mate. Whenever he told that story to his children, they had yet to believe him.

The chief of the Metkayina doesn't get up from the sand and watches the ikran circle him before promptly landing on the sand a couple of yards away. Only then when the banshee landed did Sìla and Nok notice the beast as well and squealed with excitement, running over to Evi like she was a long-lost family pet. Ao'nung fondly smiled as he watched the ikran rider dismount and cling tightly to the bundle strapped against her chest. Y/n now stood as tall as her mother used to be, still sporting the braided hair and beads, but now wore clothing more appropriate for a leading member of the Metkayina. Like Ao'nung, she was nearly covered in tattoos, other than her chin where the tsahik symbol would've been if she hadn't let Tsireya take on the role. Otherwise, most of Y/n's tattoos symbolized a warrior and a high-standing figure among the villagers; as their olo'eykte. Ao'nung still felt pride whenever he saw the akula tooth carved to look like an arrowhead, resting just above his mate's heart and now woven into her chest piece.

Y/n had bent down to gather Sìla and Nok in her arms when they ran up to greet her but was careful not to squish the baby still sleeping at her breast. Standing up, Y/n carefully adjusted Tawnu to rest comfortably against her collar before she grabbed Sìla and Nok's hands, walking with them along the beach, heading in the direction of the olo'eyktan and Little Nangi.

When they were close enough, Ao'nung called out, "Did Evi get to stretch her wings?"

Y/n smiles with a shrug, "Enough to last the old girl another week before she insists I take her again."

The Na'vi woman sits down beside Ao'nung in the sand, leaning heavily against his side, knowing that he'd gladly take her weight, his arm sliding around her waist to hold her close. Ao'nung paid no attention to Y/n's tail loosely wrapping around his own waist and instead busied himself with trading twins, setting Nangi down on Y/n's lap before helping Y/n with taking Tawnu out of his sling. Ao'nung lets Tawnu continue sleeping in the crook of his other arm while Y/n gathers Nangi in hers, cooing to the baby boy and making him laugh when she riddled his little chubby face with kisses.

Once the parents were settled, Sìla took this opportunity of happiness to plead with big, blue eyes and a pouty lip, wrapping her little arms around Y/n's, "Can I go again, Mama?"

Evi squawks in the background, likely offended that she's now the family's show pony in her old age, while Y/n smiles sweetly and leans her forehead into her daughter's, "You have to wait your turn, ma'txe'lan. It will be Nangi's turn next time, then I promise I will take you."

Sìla whined but otherwise didn't complain, distracted by Nok when he pinched her and ran off. The chief's daughter runs after him, vowing for revenge in their own twisted game of tag while their parents watch on in adoration.

Ao'nung briefly looks up to the sky, "The winds are getting warmer. The tulkun should be returning soon."

"Hm," Y/n replies while looking down at Nangi. Apparently, he had followed in his twin's footsteps and fell asleep, "I'm sure they will be very happy to meet the twins for the first time."

"I will be very happy to introduce them to my Spirit Brother," Ao'nung turns his head to his wife, "When do you think Sìla can meet your brother?"

Y/n's resulting smile was soft and kind, but Ao'nung knew better than anyone the level of sadness behind it. Even as she had aged and small wrinkles had started to form around her lips, she still looked like the young girl who had lost her other half as if it was only yesterday. She looks off over the waves and out into the vast ocean, thinking back to all the times she had visited the Spirit Tree over the years. As promised, she only visited Neteyam on special occasions. She visited when each of their siblings finished their Iknimaya or when Lo'ak and Tsireya were officially betrothed, when the Na'vi had won the war, and when Y/n found out each time she was pregnant. She had started to visit less and less, far too busy as a wife and a mother, just as Neteyam had hoped for, but she'll still go to see him when her children go through big and meaningful milestones, always excited to share them with her twin brother.

The children have yet to learn about Neteyam, their parents believing they are still far too young. Nok knows his name stems from someone important to his mama, but that is the extent of his knowledge. Soon, however, Sìla will be old enough to knowingly connect to the Spirit Tree all by herself, unlike her first communion with Eywa. When that time comes, Ao'nung and Y/n will sit her down and tell her the story of her Uncle Neteyam.

It will break Y/n's heart when Sìla asks if they meant Uncle Lo'ak or Spider, but Y/n will correct her daughter and tell her that she actually has a third uncle. Both her mother and father will tell Sìla stories of a young boy she had never met, a boy who never got to grow up alongside his friends and siblings... A boy who loved his family deeply and would have loved Sìla and her brothers even more, he would've hung the world for them if he were still alive.

Y/n's heart will always ache to know that Neteyam was robbed of being someone's husband and father, whoever those poor souls might have been. Her heart ached to know he would never get to be olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya or meet each and every one of his nieces and nephews until they were all old enough to go to him themselves. However, her heart has been healing for some time instead of breaking, and like Neteyam said she would, Y/n has managed to balance her sadness with her happiness, missing her brother just as much as she loved her mate and her kids.

She leans further into Ao'nung's shoulder, watching two of her children play in the water while the remaining two slept safely in their parents' arms, "Soon."

Her husband hums quietly, turning his head until it's half buried in her hair, whispering his response in a kiss he placed on the top of her head, "Nga yawne lu oer, Forest Girl."

"Nga yawne lu oer, Seaweed Brain."

Sìla: derived from "hope"

Nokteyam: Nok (a man's name in Na'vi) and Neteyam "not the end"

Tawnu: derived from "sky"

Nangi: derived from "surprise"

Even though I'm finishing up this series, I think I still want to write about it. I plan on writing about missing scenes that weren't initially written in the series, like Ao'nung's injury and in-depth reactions to Y/n's pregnancies. So stay tuned for that! If you have a request for me to write about a certain topic for this series, please don't be afraid to ask! (I'm also not opposed to writing 'what-if' scenarios like "what if Neteyam survived and watched his twin sister's family grow?")

Thanks again everyone!

[festiveferret]

Wipdate!

Well. It's been like three years since I've done one of these, hahaha, but I've been missing fandom life so I thought it'd be fun to share an update of where I'm sitting. Toddlers manage to take like 140% of your time and energy, even though they sleep a lot, so I've mostly just been parenting, but I've been getting the writing bug lately, so there's very slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Basically, I have a list of fics I want to make sure I finish. They're the ones it would break my heart to look back on twenty years from now and realize I put all that time and those words into something that never got shared. I haven't been having new ideas very much, so I'm putting all my creative energy into things I've either promised to other people or to myself.

I'm not going to list everything I've posted since my last wipdate, since that was a looong time ago and you can always sort my works page chronologically! But here's the latest ones...

Posted:

Do Not Reply  - Tony replies to a Do Not Reply email address thinking he's shouting into the void. Spoiler alert: he's not. Runaway Train - Preserum Steve and Prince Tony meet cute. Entwined - The aftermath of Ults Stony being magically soulbound and then separated. Lost and Found - Winteriron - Bucky finds a lost dog. Vacation Days - SHIELD needs Steve to take his PTO Sanguinary Revelations - Tony and Steve go on a date with a twist Kindly Calm Me Down - Ults Steve knows how to calm his Tony down after a mission First Christmas - Stony's first xmas as parents Even of My Secret Soul - Secret soulmates

Updating:

Second Chance Summer - Stony with a 20yr age gap. Pre-written and posting on Saturdays. Up to chapter eight. A Good Thing - Comic collab with Askafroa - Alpha!Tony and Omega!Therapist!Steve - almost done! Yet I Will Try the Last - Truck Stop Hooker AU with hooker!Steve and flashy billionaire, Tony Stark. Up to chapter four! (I swear I haven't given up on this) Held Remix - A rewrite of Held with Tony as the sub and Steve as the Dom. Up to chapter twenty-nine. Ashy and I are making a point of getting our chaptered version of Held edited and posted, and then we're cracking on with Remix. We may or may not do both seasons, but we're at least going to finish out S1.

Beta Queue:

Bro Code -  This is one of my 2023 MTH fics Rented Family - I started this one in like 2019 and finally finished it. It's a no-powers Ults AU where Tony is dying of his (canon!) brain cancer and Steve is a security specialist/bodyguard who Tony hires to be around while he dies. Yay for finishing old wips!

Wips:

This wiplist is basically just going to be my list of "I'll be sad if I never finish them" fics I mentioned above. I have no plans to stop writing fic entirely, but I'm definitely slowing down, and I want to focus on the stuff that will feel really good to have done so I don't ever leave myself or you guys hanging!

1) Held edit (the chaptered repost) and Held Remix (at least S1). @ashes0909 and I are picking away at it, but between three kids, two jobs, and two timezones, it's slow af. But we'll get there.

2) My other 2023 MTH fic, older professor Tony and young flirty student Steve for @sabrecmc pod bid. It's maybe a third done.

3) My contribution to the Stony Dating Sim game from MTH 2024 (I'm doing Ults Tony as a love interest. If you want to know more, check out @stevetonydatingsim).

4) My Stony Twilight AU. I posted a snippet of it here a long time ago and I've been picking at it ever since. It's at 33k and probably about halfway done.

5) Fangbait 3. My Fangbait series was always intended to have three parts. Two are up already. The third was on hiatus for a long time, but I just abruptly wrote 80% of it last night, so once I get the sex scenes (and a title oh no) done, she'll be good to go!

6) Yet I Will Try the Last has been waiting for waaay too long for an update and I feel really bad about it. It was the one time I experimented with posting an unfinished WIP (mostly because it started as a oneshot and then I started adding to it) and I regretti spaghetti every day that I did that lol. I. Have. Not. Given. Up. I have the outline for the rest, I know what I want to do, I just need to do it.

7) Brooklyn is a canon divergence from right after Avengers 2012 where Stony travels on a modified quinjet together, cleaning up the chitauri weapon's market. It's maybe a third to a half done? Another one I started a loooong time ago and never got my steam back with, but I would really like to. I really like that one.

8) A Venom/Eddie fic from right after the first movie. It's not too long and it's probably also about halfway done, so I believe in myself. It's called Parasite.

9) A collab started a few years ago that I'm not going to out here in case my collab partner doesn't want to do it anymore, but we did a fair bit of it so I'd love to get it done.

Writing comes in little spurts, but I have to pick and choose between my hobbies now, so I just have less time and energy to spend on one thing. I've been trying to read more to fuel the words! I also have OG stuff I'm working on, but that's just as slow as the other stuff lol. I miss you guys! Hope y'all are doing well. (Happy Easter if you celebrate!)

Thanks as always for reading! <3

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (20)

***

At the end of the month, Silco forgoes a day's pay to line up with Vander and withdraw money. It's the same as always: a long snaking queue across the courtyard, two Piltie bookkeepers sitting with their piles of folders and the cash box between them; six bored looking enforcers standing behind them, with their masks and goggles, hands loose on their guns.

It's the same as always, but Silco keeps his arms crossed and his scowl grows meaner with every shuffling step forward. He looks like he's about to start ranting about the unfairness of having to beg for wages they've already earned.

"Stop looking at me like that," Silco hisses at him, which feels unfair given that Vander hasn't said anything. "I'm not stupid enough to say something in front of enforcers."

"I'm well aware you're not stupid," Vander says gently, but it doesn't work. Silco only glares at him. "I mean it. Sharp as a fish hook, my Ma would say."

"She really was a riversider," Silco mutters back and Vander will happily take the edge of mocking rather than that tightly-held anger.

"Got something against riverside? Going to tell me we all smell like chum?"

Silco raises an eyebrow in challenge. "That you can't walk straight on land unless you're drunk?"

"That a freshly washed riversider only has silt between their toes?"

Silco snorts in amusement as they shuffle forward another step. "And the only way to get their attention is to dress in canvas and bring rope?"

Vander laughs at that one. It's such a stupid fisherman joke, but it's not the sort of joke anyone makes around a guy Vander's size. "Yeah, that's us. If it doesn't float or have fins, we're not interested."

Silco tilts his head, his expression becoming thoughtful. "Why didn't you join a boat? Better than being here."

"I get seasick," Vander says, like stepping onto a boat doesn't make him think of his father every damn time. Wonder if he should be mourning or fuming.

"You grew up by the river. How can you get seasick?"

"It's a skill."

"Not a very good one," Silco replies and they shuffle forward another step.

It takes another hour of standing in the electric lights of the courtyard, but eventually they get to the bookkeepers. There's no true privacy in the mine – too many people and not enough space. From his spot in line, Vander hears Silco requesting a balance, and pulling out his notebook. A large folder is opened on the table, the bookkeeping looking up Silco's name.

He reads out the figure and Silco copies it down, while Vander looks on, stunned. It's over twenty thousand bronze. Vander has to cunt on his fingers to translate that debt to gold, but two thousand four hundred gold sounds even worse. Three hundred gold is an impossible figure. Ten times that…

But Silco doesn't even blink at that figure. He just nods and then says, "I want to withdraw coin. How much am I allowed to withdraw on credit?" He withdraws the maximum amount and then asks for half of it in silver.

Vander gets waved over to the other bookkeeper as the coins are counted out.

Vander has nearly eight hundred bronze owed to him. He withdraws most of it, even takes some out in gold just to hold the sparkle in his hand.

He finds Silco waiting for him with a pouch of coins. "Sixty. We didn't agree on interest, but five seems fair."

"For the wood?" Vander stares at the pouch, at the seven bronze lect in Silco's palm. "You don't have to pay me. I don't need–"

"There's nothing free down here," Silco talks over him. "You pay now or you pay later. I don't like building up debts."

"You owe them over twenty thousand!"

Silco looks up at Vander, not backing down an inch. "To be precise, twenty-one thousand, five hundred and eighty. I won't owe you as well."

"Look," Vander says, wrapping a hand around Silco's arm and tugging him away from the others. "I'm sleeping there too. Every night, I'm saving money because I don't have to pay for a bunk. If we're both gaining from it, we should go halves in the costs."

Through narrowed blue eyes, Silco considers it.

"And no interest," Vander adds. "Not between us. We're better than the damn company."

Silco gives one sharp nod to that. "Fine. Halves. That's twenty-seven bronze."

Vander hands him back the pouch. "And the bed too. We should go halves in that."

Silco glances down at his coins, and quickly realises he'll have just enough. "I could have waited until next month, Vander. I don't need charity."

"The isn't charity. This is us working together and improving life for both of us." Vander leans down, low enough that he can whisper right into Silco's ear. Boice pitched carefullylow, he adds, "And this way I don't have to wait to fuck you in a real bed."

***

[does-it-introject]

Polls will continue tomorrow, April 17th, but I've been thinking:

I don't want to spam tags, but also the queue is really full currently and I don't want some of you having to wait for 6+ months. Pick whichever is best and I'll go by that.

[casper-spills]

| Tarot Cards: Places they represent |

✩░▒▓▆▅▃▂▁𝟑𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!▁▂▃▅▆▓▒░✩

Hey guys! Welcome back to another post ♡

We reached 300 followers! And I'm gonna do a special for you guys because I seriously am so grateful for all of your support. My blog has been growing so fast and I literally never expected to be where I am today. Thank you! ♡

This post will be a little different to my usual stuff. I was thinking I might start a series like this where I give some tips on how to read your tarot! I'll also include the sources I use at the end in case you wanted to check those out too.

Anyway, here is a list of places that the cards represent ♡

Sincerely,

Cassy the friendly ghost ♡

✦Masterlist ✦Paid Readings ✦Support me through Kofi

𓆩♡𓆪 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 50% 𝙊𝙁𝙁 !! 𓆩♡𓆪

Ends on September 22nd

| KO-FI SHOP |

| MAJOR ARCANA |

0. Fool - Mountain, trekking

1. Magician - Kitchen, labatory, shows, music, magic, performances

2. High Priestess - Secret place, secret society, library, somewhere quiet, reading rooms, theatre, halls

3. Empress - Old/stately homes, old school building, old hospital building, boutique, beauty parlor, restaurants

4. Emperor - Royal palace, business establishments, schools, univerisity

5. Heirophant - Church, univeristy, temple, place of worship, corporate building

6. Lovers - Sweet shop, date locations, love hotel, honeymoon places

7. Chariot - Car ralley, racing fixtures, garages, horse racing, highway

8. Strength - Zoo, petting zoos, gym, fitness studios

9. Hermit - Cave, retreat centres, hill walking

10. Wheel - Ferris wheels, london eye, casino, lottery tickets, shops selling wheels

11. Justice - Court, arbitration offices, counselling institution, police department

12. Hanged Man - Bungee jumping, sky diving, thrilling activities

13. Death - Church yard, funeral parlor, butcher, cemetary

14. Temperance - Cocktail bar, queues, waiting rooms, chemist dispensary

15. Devil - Adult shops, clubs, casinos, brothel, strip clubs

16. Tower - Chop shops, tall buildings, skyscrapers, stormy areas, fire

17. Star - Water, ocean, river, stargazing

18. Moon - Nighttime, stargazing, movie, stage, theatre

19. Sun - Birth centre, midwifery unti, hospital, holidays, tanning booths, abroad

20. Judgement - Rehabilitation centres, church, treament centres, spa

21. World - Airport, flying, dance studios

| MINOR ARCANA |

☁︎ 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 ☁︎

Ace - Editor's room, skyscrapers, office, library, radio tower

Two - Statue of liberty, new york, seashore

Three - Hospital, rainy place, cloudy areas

Four - Bedroom, quiet places, funeral parlor

Five - Debate club, near water, themepark, competitive environments

Six - Boats, river, cruisers

Seven - Archery, secret location, casino, bomb shelter

Eight - Prison, therapy

Nine - Psychiatric hospital, confessional

Ten - Surgery room, accupuncture clinic, dentists

Page - Fraternity, rowdy places, sports arena

Knight - Windy places, windmills

Queen - Fenced off places, great walls, boundaries, spikes fences

King - Lawyers office

🕯 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 🕯

Ace - Workshop, construction site

Two - Balcony, overseas, historical travel, boat

Three - Seaside, boat travel

Four - Fastfood, cafe, outdoors, wedding, celebration

Five - Sport centre, pool game

Six - Market, downtown, show, event, someone/something noticable

Seven - Competitive/violent environment

Eight - Road trip, highway

Nine - Competitive environment, barrier, wall, bouncer, high security

Ten - Workplace, labour, sweatshop

Page - Disco, dance, party

Knight - Hot and dry place, bonfire, abroad, holiday

Queen - Social events

King - Active place, fast moving environments

꒦꒷ 𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒔 ꒷꒦

Ace - Lake, pond, birdbath, birds

Two - Luxury, home, common dating places

Three - Bar, pub, party

Four - Under a tree, graveyard

Five - A place of regret, place of bad memories, hospital, flooded areas, bridge, after party cleanup, alone in a bar

Six - Flourists, schoolyard, playground, nostalgic places

Seven - Highup places, views, drug suppliers, spots where people do drugs, drug shops

Eight - Bookstore, library, cave, quiet

Nine - Bar, party, pub, dinner, home

Ten - Family gatherings, park, outdoor, bbq party

Page - Aquariums, fish tanks, sea parks

Knight - Picnics, peaceful/romantic areas

Queen - Bathtub with cancles, home, skinny dipping, swimming

King - Beach, lake

˗ˏˋ 𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒔 ˎˊ˗

Ace - Dispensary, bank, currency exchange centre

Two - Circus, arcade, carnival

Three - Fashion show runway, art gallery, boutique, museum

Four - Uncle scrooge's home, gold reserves, saferoom, secret hideout, vault

Five - The streets, people living in powerty, homeless spots,

Six - Pawn shops, currency exchange shops, trade stores

Seven - Nursery, orchard

Eight - workshop, construction site

Nine - Gardens, green parks

Ten - Market

Page - Field, farm, family business

Knight - Workplace, chores, school

Queen - Home, nursery room

King - Bank manager's office

♥Thank you for your support!♥

Dividers by @cafekitsune, @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Source

[withahappyrefrain]

this one is so cute! 🍂🍁🍃

A stands in a queue when they notice a leaf stuck in the hair/on the clothes of the person in front of them. They offer to remove it for them.

for bob and maeve?

AHHHH so excited to start writing for these two! And of course I had to bring in Bradley and Birdie! ❤️❤️ Enjoy!

Fall in San Diego was different. By the time October started rolling, the average temperature had cooled down to a ‘crisp’ seventy degrees. Chunky sweaters were traded in for light cardigans. Sure, you could wear a scarf, but not a functional one. Gone were the days of needing gloves.

It was a stark difference from the east coast.

Gone was the scenic view of mountains and orchards. In its place were micro-breweries and overpriced wineries. But also gone was a shitty ex husband. In its place, the unknown.

At least the farmer markets here still sold apple butter.

It was a consolidation prize for Maeve. She was forever grateful that Nora wanted to show her around, but that also meant third wheeling for Nora and her fiancé. Worse, they were sickeningly in love. She had never been so happy for her best friend, but also so fucking jealous at the same time.

So she would enjoy these last few moments, while Nora was trying to find her partner amidst the crowd. They tried to not make her feel bad, but being around them reminded Maeve how alone she had become.

Wait, did that guy have a leaf on his back?

Upon squinting her hazel eyes, she saw that man standing in front of her did in fact, have a leaf on the back of his plaid shirt.

Should she- oh thank God, he was reaching for it. Now Maeve wouldn't have to look at it while standing in line.

Nope. Despite his long arms, the leaf had wedged itself in a place where he couldn't reach. Oh God, was she going to have to watch him struggle the whole time?

Wanting to save her sanity outweighed her dislike of talking to strangers.

"I can get it for you, the leaf. If you want?"

He turned around to reveal a face that made her heart flutter. Bright blue eyes, bluer than the ocean. Tortoiseshell glasses that framed his face. Sunkissed hair, tousled in waves. A button nose that brought a sense of sweetness to him. A smattering of faded freckles, no doubt from hours upon hours of being out in the sun.

"Could you? That would be great, otherwise it's gonna bother me all day?" His voice was smooth as whiskey, a rural upbringing lacing his words.

But what was most astounding was his smile. The way his thin pink lips contorted to form a small, slightly crooked smile. The creases that formed around his oceanic eyes, showing years of smiles and laughter.

God, he just looked kind. The type that Maeve always wondered what it would be like to have. To see first thing in the morning and the last thing when she closed her eyes at night.

"M'am?" It didn't come across as condescending, it was actually charming. It was also said in such a deep vibrato that Maeve to snap out of whatever the fuck those last two minutes was.

It's been three months, for fuck sake's Maeve.

Why would he even be interested in you?

This is why you're a twenty-eight year old divorceé.

Maeve nodded as she mentally scolded herself, "Absolutely, not a problem."

Bob turned around, despite not wanting to. He would rather focus on the umber curls that framed her face. Or the way shades of hickory and green swirled together in her eyes. His favorite had to be how her eyes squinted when she smiled. His mother would call that as having 'smiley eyes' when he was a child.

Jesus Christ, we're really desperate now.

It wouldn't end well for you anyways. Never does.

That's why you're thirty-four and still single, Robert.

So in a way, he was grateful to turn around, as it was a chance to get himself together.

That lasted for maybe ten seconds. Bob couldn't tell if touch was incredibly gentle or if she wasn't touching him. So he turned his head, catching her reaching out.

The eye contact made Maeve freeze for a beat or two. Once Bob flashed her that sweet smile, she found the strength to continue, internally marveling at how soft his shirt felt.

He must use fabric softener. Maybe he attends this market regularly. Maybe-

It's been three months.

Yes, three months since the document was signed and it was made official legally. But the acceptance of a unsustainable marriage had occured a year ago.

She held up the leaf for effect, "You want to keep it as memorabilia?"

Bob chuckled, making Maeve feel warm all over, as if she had just drank mulled cider, "No, no, I think I'm good. But I'd love to buy that for you as a way to say thanks."

This time it was her turn to shake her head, "Oh, it was nothing! Just a leaf." Bob noticed that when she shook her head, the curls that had fallen over his forehead shook slightly.

God, she was adorable. Absolutely, completely endearing.

"Yeah, but that would have bothered me the whole time I was with my friends. I wouldn't have been able to focus on anything else," he grinned, "Plus you had no issue talking to a complete stranger. That's gotta be commended."

A laugh escapes from her rosey lips, "I usually hate talking to strangers." Fuck, why would you even say that?

If he found it odd, the handsome stranger didn't visibly or vocally show it, "Yeah, I'm not a huge fan of that either. Again, gotta be commended."

She looked down at the jar of apple butter, "It would be faster if you paid for mine. I'm meeting some friends too."

"Happy to serve," the unintentional pun about his career was lost on her. At least he could bring it up to Mickey, who would get a good laugh out of it. And his wife Cielo too. And then they would probably do something sweet, like kiss while holding hands, unintentionally reminding Bob how utterly alone it felt coming home from work every day.

Their hands brushed against one another when Maeve transferred the jar to Bob. He turned around, partly to see if he needed to step forward, partly to hide the smile on his face.

Had he turned around, he would have seen the same smile on her face. One that was full of excitement, felt for the first time in years. Just like him.

Eventually, he looked back, this time mainly to see if his friends were amidst the crowd of shoppers.

He felt the need to explain, out of fear of coming across as creepy, "My friend went looking for his fiancé. She's bringing her best friend."

What a coincidence, Nora's fiancé was bringing a friend too.

Yeah, to help you feel less shitty about always being their third wheel.

"Well does your friend have any idea where his fiancé could be?" Maeve asked as Bob paid for the two jars of apple butter.

"Oh yeah, Birdie's first stop is always the Takyaki stand," Bob paused, "Birdie isn't her real name, it's just-"

"Do you mean Nora?" Maeve's voice was now timid. Blood rushing through her veins, wondering if it was too good to be true.

Bob stopped in his tracks, brows knitting together, "How do you know her name?"

Before Maeve could explain, two new voices interrupted.

"Bob?" "Maeve?"

Turning around revealed Nora (who many referred to as 'Birdie'), who was holding the hand of her fiancé, Bradley (who at work was referred to as 'Rooster').

Bob and Maeve turned their attention back to one another, realization hitting like a brick wall.

He's the kindest guy I know. You'll love him.

She's honestly just the sweetest. It's a damn shame what happened.

They're like you. They've been through similar shit.

"You're Maeve?" He had a long finger pointed at her (God his hands were huge) but it wasn't accusing.

Maeve felt at ease, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she nodded, her eyes creasing due to her smile.

There were those smiley eyes that made his knees weak.

"I am and you're Bob? Just Bob, right? No totally random, work nickname?" With anyone else, it would have been demeaning. A few years ago, Bob would have taken offense.

But his shoulders were feeling lighter these days thanks to the past actually staying in its namesake more often.

"Well, my full name is Robert. I have some family who call me Rob, some call me Robby but that's because I gave them explicit permission to do so, not everyone reaches that level. And then some of my friends call me Bobby. So in terms of work nickname, you're correct, it's not totally random." His eyes were so expressive, it was memorizing to watch.

Charming. He was actually charming.

"Well, I think having multiple nicknames that are based off of your actual name is better than having one and it's a children's game or bird," she turned her head to flash a smile, "No offense Bradley."

Bradley, who was used to her strong opinions on call signs and now only a foot away, simply rolled his eyes, "No offense taken Maeve. But we do call him Bagman, remember?"

A coy smile spread across her face, something Bob found so endearing.

"So you two....know each other?" Nora asked, raising an eyebrow. She swears she would have remembered her best friend meeting one of her fiancé's best work friends.

"We actually just met. Maeve saved me from an afternoon of trying to reach a spot on my back to get rid of a leaf," Bob explained, gently putting his hand on Maeve's shoulder. His touch was pleasant, considerate even.

"Bob got me some apple butter as a thank you," Maeve held up the jar while looking down, hoping no one would notice the rosy hue that was spreading across her face.

"Which, I assume is to make your famous cinnamon sugar apple butter pie?" Bob now turned to her, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Catching her confused expression, Bob jumped in, "When you left a pie after visiting Birdie, Bradley brought in leftovers. It was a huge hit, I still think about it."

Charlie always had an issue with whatever she cooked. Too salty. Not healthy babe. Why are you even making that?

But Charlie wasn't here. He was on the east coast, no doubt trying to find another gullible person to invest in one of his bullshit 'ideas'.

Instead there was Bob, who had a sparkle in his eyes. Who had not only heard about you, but remembered details too.

God, the bar was so fucking low.

Meanwhile, Bob hadn't thought about Cassie once since meeting the curly, raven haired woman with the most adorable smile he had ever seen.

"Well, given the lack of a paper bag in Nora's hand, I'd say it's time we head to the Hog Haven stand and get some breakfast sandwiches," Maeve suggested, hoping it would turn the attention away from her.

"Absolutely! I know Bob wanted to stop by the pickling stand for Sauerkraut and that's on the way!" Nora grabbed Bradley's hand, and walked forward, leaving Bob and Maeve to walk side by side.

Almost as if it was planned that way.

"What's the Sauerkraut for?" Maeve asked, secretly noticing how he slowed his stride to match hers.

"I'm making Bigos. It means 'Hunter Stew' in Polish. My mom made it for me and my siblings all the time growing up. She's back in Wisconsin, and since it's finally 'cooled down' here, figured it was a good time to make it."

Bob can't remember the last time he felt this talkative to someone new. Usually it takes hours, sometimes even multiple outings for him to warm up. And that was if he liked the person's company.

It took him two months to warm up to Jake.

But something about Maeve had him talking a mile a minute. Even Bradley had turned around to raise his eyebrows at how much Bob was talking. He had to be careful; the last thing he needed was to be in the same situation he was in six years ago.

"I'm not super familiar with Polish food- other than bagels and pierogi's- but I'd like to learn more about it," her voice was sweet, albeit slightly reserved. Not wanting to appear too eager, or insinuate anything.

"I have a whole box of recipes from my mom and Aunts and Grandma. I can bring it next time-" He paused. No, don't assume. Never assume. "I can pass it on to Bradley who can give it to Birdie. Whichever you prefer."

"We can leave y'all to talk to each other if you want!" Bradley called out before turning his attention back to Nora.

"I have a feeling this won't be the last time we see each other. Not if those two lovebirds have anything to say about it." Her comment brought out a laugh in Bob, which in turn caused a big smile to break out across Maeve's face.

"Glad I'm not the only one who calls them that. Everyone else says it's too cheesy." "Well, those people have no love or appreciation for puns. Luckily for you Robby, I do."

He didn't correct her. In fact, he liked how the name sounded coming from her pink lips.

"Maybe we can keep talking about puns and recipes while they," Bob pointed to Bradley and Nora, who were currently holding hands and exchanging (what they thought to be) sneaky kisses, "Are themselves."

"So they act this way around you too?" Maeve's eyes lit up, relieved she wasn't the only one who had to deal with the most sickeningly sweet couple on the planet, "Being a third wheel with them is rough."

The two had now stopped at the pickles goods stand, ignoring their friends who had invited them out.

"I think it's going well! I never saw her smile this much with Charlie," Nora whispered excitedly, unable to take her green eyes off of Maeve and Bob.

"I'd say so," Bradley looked at Nora, not needing to see that his friend was talking to Maeve with a gleam in his blue eyes, a rare sight, "You know it's not going to happen overnight, right?"

"I'm aware. But I think they're off to a good start," Nora grinned. The sight of her best friend, looking the happiest she's seen in the past year, kept her bounce on her toes.

Bob and Maeve were indeed, off to a good start.

[velvet-candyfloss1963]

'Cause I'm happy just to dance with you

(Part 1)

Summary: Reader gets tickets to go and see their favourite band, The Beatles, and unexpectedly finds the love her life.

Words: 1.2k

Characters: George Harrison x female reader, friends of reader.

Authors note: this is my first fanfiction, so feedback would be greatly appreciated :) I had sm fun writing this, let me know if you want a part 2! Part one doesn't go into much detail, but part two will be more explicit (just a pre-warning haha).

1964.

Since their debut album was released in March of last year, they were all you could think about. Those four Liverpudlian lads had your heart, but one in particular caused your heart to skip a beat every time you heard his name.

George.

You weren't quite sure what it was that captivated you. Was it his shy, enigmatic nature? His fangy smile? His cheeky grin? Or his dimples? Whatever it was, you had fallen completely head over heels in love with him.

Of course you weren't the only one, though. After all, Beatlemania had broken out and you were more than certain that other girls felt the same way. But this didn't stop you from feeling a deeper connection with the musician.

You had spent months dreaming, longing, fantasizing about the fact that maybe, just maybe, one day you could be in the same room as him.

The dreaming, longing and fantasizing soon came to a halt, however, last Christmas...

You never expected to get much for Christmas as you come from a working class family and money was tight for your parents at this time of year, especially considering you were one of five children. But Christmas last year was different. Last year, you got the BEST present you could have ever received. You got 3 tickets to go and see The Beatles live in London this July!!! You were absolutely stunned!

Over the next 6 months, you had to think carefully about who you wanted to bring with you and after some careful consideration, you decided on bringing your two closest friends, both of which shared the same birthday (just a couple of days after yours, which actually happened to be the day of the concert!).

The day had finally come. It's all you've been able to think about for the last few weeks and it was finally, actually here. Although the concert didn't start until 8pm, the doors opened at 6:45pm, though this didn't stop you from arriving at 5pm!!! You wanted to be amongst the first people to arrive as you were keen on sneaking to the front. After queueing for nearly 2 hours, you were finally allowed in.

You ran with your friends to get drinks, ensuring you bought 3 each to avoid getting up midway through the show, and bolted to the front of the venue. You sat there, front row, growing increasingly more anxious as your watch reached 7:57. At about twenty-past-eight the lights finally faded, the opening acts disappeared and you instantly felt a shockwave of anticipation hit you.

Within minutes, the silence ceased and you heard the ebullient shout of "ONE TWO THREE FOUR!!!". It was the one and only PAUL MCCARTNEY!!! You almost fainted as the spotlights found their way to the stage and all you could see were the four faces you had lusted over for a year and a half. This time, however, they were there... Really there!!! In front of you!!!

You soon started singing and dancing along to their latest hit "A Hard Day's Night" with your friends before astonishingly locking eyes with one of the boys...

It was George. Of course it was. He was the man you had desired for so long.

You were instantly enchanted as you held your gaze with him. Although it only lasted a few seconds, it somehow felt like a lifetime. It was captivating. It was tantalizing. It was compulsive. You quickly looked away, as to not creep him out but felt an immediate sense of yearning. You were addicted and he was the drug.

You checked to see if your friends had noticed this extraordinary phenomenon, but to no surprise they hadn't as they were too busy dancing. You then bashfully returned your gaze to George, only to find him staring right back at you. You promptly felt your cheeks grow red as you looked into each others eyes.

In a matter of seconds, George looked away but as he did so, you saw the corners of his mouth curve upwards into a shy smirk. He then proceeded to lick his lips to disguise his toothy grin.

You were unsure what his smile meant but you were a fan. Before you knew it, the lights were starting to brighten and the interval had begun. Your friends decided to go and get more drinks but you thought it wise to stay where you were, as to not lose your seats.

While they were gone, you spent some time thinking about how surreal this whole experience was. This was the best birthday ever!! You started blushing at the fantasy that George might continue looking at you after the break had finished and they'd come back on stage.

You were sat there, smiling to yourself, until you were approached by a man in a tuxedo. You immediately felt a sense of dread as you imagined he was coming over to tell you to move from the front of the stage or something. However, this was far from what he wanted.

With no greeting, he asked you how you were and what your name was. You were perplexed but answered his questions without hesitation. He then smiled at you, brought his hand to yours and left a small piece of paper in it before departing. You stood there, utterly bewildered, before looking in your hand and reading what he had left.

"𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓻 𝓪𝓽 𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷. 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓮."

This only confused you more. Who's this from? Who wanted to meet you at the bar? What did they want? And why eleven, the show ended at ten?!!! You figured it was a mistake, but you were still intrigued and planned on meeting in the arranged place.

Your friends then returned and said they saw you talking to some strange man. You contemplated showing them the note, but ultimately decided against it. "Yeahhh he thought I was someone else, that's all" you replied.

For the remainder of the interval, you sat there not uttering a word, still unable to process your eye contact with George.

Eventually, the band came back on and you immediately starting scanning the stage for George. The next song was "I'm Happy Just To Dance With You", which meant that George would be singing, which meant that he would be right at the front of the stage - right where you were.

He starting singing and you couldn't believe that you were literally standing about three feet away from the man of your dreams. For the entire song, you stood there staring lustfully at him. This feeling, however, turned from lustful to desirous when he sang the penultimate line.

"I've discovered I'm in love with you" he whined whilst locking eyes intensely with you.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. After all, you knew that George was the shy member of the band, which made his actions seem all the more unreal.

Unlike last time, your friends had actually noticed George look at you and were screaming at you and shaking you in disbelief. You didn't quite know what to do as you were in complete shock. Your mind then returned to the note you had been given about 15 minutes prior.

"GEORGE" you thought as your eyes widened in realisation.

You looked back up at the stage to find George tuning his guitar before bringing his gaze to meet yours again. You smiled incredulously at him and saw, what you could only just make out through the shadows of the stage, him wink.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Persephone's Devotee (Hello, Mr. Monster AU, I)

Master List

Summary: In the age of Spiritualists and magicians, wyrds winds in different ways to link Dream of the Endless and Aisling Hunt. AU of Hello, Mr. Monster beginning in the 1920s. (Alternatively titled 'We All Hate Roderick Burgess')

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, child left to travel solo, manipulating children for profit (non-sexual trafficking)

A/N: Your bird just got diagnosed with a life changing chronic condition (in addition to being put back on depression meds). We'll see how this post does. Have four chapters planned. The last scene is based on personal experiences with heat exhaustion/borderline heat stroke.

Dream’s tools brought many things to Fawney Rig. Wealth and prestige. Admiration, gifts, and influence. Nearly everything the magus wanted and only a fraction of what he thought he deserved. Roderick’s dreams of power and riches drew another tool to his hand, or perhaps Destiny drew the magus to her. The girl who saw strange things in the dark and found answers to strange riddles in her cards. But her wyrd would always draw her to old house and its shrouded dungeon, in any world or time. All because of what the Burgesses kept there.

In the eight years since the fateful evening he summoned and caught one of the Endless, Roderick had become a man much desired. He found himself with an invitation to Lord and Lady Werthrope’s party, a guest of honor at a soiree at their country estate. They promised a night of occult mysteries and foreign prizes. Bits of people and places from across the empire and beyond. Mummies from Egypt and fragments of Greek antiquities to gasp and shriek over with glasses of champagne and brandy.

Roderick carried himself as Lord Werthrope’s equal, and at least for that night, surrounded by ancient mysteries of all kinds, he was seen as such. He was an expert, a guide, someone to hold in reverence rather than an oddity to gawk over. He told them with his bearing, his dignity, and the ruby he wore on a golden chain around his neck. His wishes became dreams and so became real. He stood like a stronger god beside the broken figure of Apollo and scoffed at the mistranslations of texts he’d only ever read secondhand.

Beside the wonders kept under guard at home, what were these paltry things? He could have any of them he desired, and he’d already claimed better.

His sense of superiority carried him through the party’s early hours, moving from acrobats in elaborate costumes, to fire eaters, to ghost stories and flights of fancy spun by swindlers far below his consideration. He had an answer or alternative for everything. And then he met the girl.

She sat at a bare table with no long cloth to hide rolling ankles, clever fishing lines, or knocking accomplices. Only a candle and a deck of cards separated her from the guests, and she’d drawn quite a queue. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor, swinging idly between the legs of the chair as she read the cards of a distraught-looking dandy.

Taking his arm, Lady Werthrope said, “This one you really must see, Magus. She’s made quite the splash in New York and London.”

The Magus offered a tolerant smile. “And what is the trick? Does she blow out the candle? Bend spoons?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” The lady practically vibrated, eager to impress as she led them to the table, scattering the line. “She sees things, and she reads fortunes like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had more than a few pet psychics in my time. This one’s a bit of a sad story.”

The magus clenched his jaw until the muscle in his cheek twitched. He could make whatever sob story the girl shilled much worse. Of all the frauds and liars who feigned knowledge of the occult, Roderick Burgess hated mediums and ghost whisperers the most. The tantalizing promise of connection with Randal – always waved in his face, always ultimately denied – it clawed open the rotting wound in his heart, and he let the poison drip back on any fools who tried his patience.

Let this one try to pull the wool over his eyes, and he’d unmask her in front of this glittering audience. She’d be a penniless sad story when he was through.

“Those people,” the lady said, nodding to a couple flanking the child, “are just the adoptive parents. Saw her family murdered, poor thing. They say that’s what cracked her open to the other world.”

“Do they indeed.” He kept his smile, showing his teeth as his grip flexed over the cane in his free hand. “Then I look forward to her performance.”

The Magus and the lady sat across from the faux family, and the girl looked at them. The people who weren’t her parents did not manage her well, Burgess couldn’t help noting. They’d painted her up with rogue and kohl that made her look even more like a child playing grownup games, and the feather in her headband hung limp and lifeless. She barely managed to grimace through a smile, and she spoke with all the enthusiasm of a student reporting on Ovid to the class.

“What are you asking?” A child’s voice really shouldn’t be so dull. Now that he was nearer, the Magus couldn’t help wondering if she was even younger than he’d first assumed. Not even ten, he thought, and already so exhausted.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. He kept his guard, but curiosity stirred beneath. She was no great performer.

Lady Werthrope leaned forward, eager to take the first reading as the girl shuffled her cards. They were nearly too big for her to manage, but in this at least she clearly had much practice. Her handling of the tarot was the most natural element of her demeanor he’d yet to see.

The lady talked about her dog Moxy, a cocker spaniel much loved and terribly spoiled. It was getting on in years, and, well, ought she prepare for anything dreadful? Only, her friend had just lost her terrier, and she couldn’t chase it from her thoughts…

The cards appeared on the table. One by one. The Six of Cups. The Two of Swords. And, lastly, the Nine of Swords reversed.

“Moxy is well-loved.” The child pointed to the first card. “That’s the foundation. But she’s getting older, and she may go blind eventually. She’s accepted it, though, and you will, too.” She smiled a little, hesitantly, like a pet used to getting kicked when she barked at company. The Magus noted how her gaze flicked to her pseudo-father.

Lady Werthrope clucked and reached over to squeeze the child’s hand. “You’re very honest. And very sweet. Now, won’t you show the Magus what you can do?”

Obediently, she gathered the cards and folded the deck, shuffling them with the fresh energy of her next customer. “What do you want to know?”

Roderick considered. It was a little below him to ask anything specific of a child spiritualist, and he still meant to test her. Hate stirred the old thorn in his heart, and although she didn’t speak with ghosts to earn her bread, he didn’t need to justify himself.

“I’ll leave the question to you.” He squinted in a way that may seem affectionate, but it was only sharp, a predator focusing on little fawn to see how quickly it might run. “What do you see?”

She flinched, lifting her eyes from the cards to meet his in a fleeting, startled glance. Like he’d come near to guessing something she didn’t say out loud. But then she bent over the deck, back to her work as the woman behind her set a hand on her shoulder.

“Be good, Aisling,” the adoptive mother said. “Show the Magus your skills. Don’t embarrass us.”

The child rolled her lip between her teeth, sorting the task quickly. One card. Two cards. Three cards. Tap, tap, tap on the bare table. The Magician’s face glowed in the candle light, and Roderick blinked. A good tarot reader must have good luck in order to draw the appropriate cards – or a marked deck. But he’d watched those little hands like a hawk, and he’d seen nothing. It wasn’t definitive proof by any means, but Roderick Burgess knew himself to be cleverer than a child.

Pointing to the first card, the Magician, the girl said, “You’re the Magus. The Magician is your creation of yourself.” The second card was the Nine of Cups. “Your cups all overflow, and you enjoy the plenty you already have.” And then there was the Ace of Pentacles. Roderick wondered for a moment if she’d laid the cards out of the intended order, but she simply said, “There is new wealth coming. You’ve just found something that will bring you more good fortune. The benefits will grow in the months and years to come.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.” He looked for cracks, and there were many. Fatigue clouded her eyes and weighted the end of every sentence. Not a sign of a lie, though. She couldn’t even pretend to be happy for the audience.

He turned the interaction over in his mind through the rest of the night, wearing away the questions and presumptions like the rough edges of a stone, and by the later hours, he thought he might hold a jewel.

The adoptive parents made themselves easy to find. They hadn’t left the table. Neither had the girl. The lord and lady hired them to entertain, and they stayed at their posts. They’d gathered refreshments, but no cup or plate sat on the table, and he wondered if they had any idea children needed things like water after a long night of speaking with strangers.

Really. The scheme was too transparent. The only lies hid in any manner of affection the parents pretended for the child they claimed.

The Magus marched up to the table, rapping the top with his cane to seize the drowsy girl’s attention. She blinked, started licking her dry lips, caught herself, and pinched her mouth closed with her teeth.

“Aisling, wasn’t it?” He nodded to her, encouraging her to echo the motion. “I would like a word with you. No cards. No reading. Just a conversation. Alone.”

The father stepped forward, ready to defend his meal ticket. “Sir, I’m afraid we can’t just –”

“The girl and I will sit here, at this table,” he tapped it again to make his point, “and you will both stand over there.” The cane swung to point towards the bar, which was well within sight but well out of earshot.

When the man moved to protest again, Roderick pulled out his wallet, and the father’s mouth snapped shut. A few pounds bought the adults’ willing compliance, and they went off in search of drinks with barely a backwards glance. Roderick settled into the seat he claimed earlier, watching the girl squirm. Her hands fluttered restlessly between her lap and the table, clearly used to the cards, uneasy without the form and ritual of a reading to guide the conversation.

That was well enough. Roderick had his own plans.

He signaled one of the roving staff, and as the waiter approached, he ordered, “A lemonade for the young lady.”

With a bow, the server hurried off, and the Magus smiled, lips closed, tilting his head as his legs crossed under the table. He was not a client. He was an adult who noticed, who might be moved to care, and in the few hours of their acquaintance, he was already offering more than anyone else.

“So, you see things?”

Her eyes snapped from him to the people who managed her. Then back again, and down to her lap.

“I’m not supposed to upset people.” She picked at the fringe on the garish frock she wore – entirely unsuited to her age and clearly uncomfortable. “It upsets Mr. and Mrs. Foster when I see things. Or when I talk about them.”

The Magus nodded, unsurprised. He wondered if the people who adopted her even realized her talents were genuine when they snatched her up. They had too many connections and too much showmanship to be anything other than experienced con artists. This little Aisling must be very sensitive, and the truly sensitive didn’t see strictly good, kind, or encouraging things. How she must terrify the fools.

The server returned with a cut crystal glass rattling with ice. The girl thanked the server, then thanked her benefactor, and wrapped her hands around the condensation-slicked sides. She sipped carefully, and Roderick could see the tension ease from her posture as she drank. Desperate as she was, she didn’t gulp, and with clear regret, she set the drink on the table still two-thirds full. But she kept her hands on the glass, lest some waiter assume she was finished and spirit it away.

“I won’t be upset, and I’d like to believe you.” Angling his head down to peer at her meaningfully, employing a look he’d once used when his son misbehaved, he asked, “What have you seen tonight that would upset people?”

The girl looked around, shifting so her chair creaked. This time, it wasn’t her adoptive parents she feared. Any ears may be a threat. When she leaned in, the Magus copied her, silently assuring her the secret would be safe with him.

“There’s a guest who’s not a guest, and he isn’t a man, either.”

The Magus hummed. “Say I believe you. Could you prove it?”

Seduced into the invitation of an adult confidant, and revived by the lemonade, she rushed to answer. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be believed and heard. The Magus was listening, and he was beginning to believe as well.

“The man paid the footman with holly leaves,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “The footman folded them like bank notes, and the spines stabbed his palms, but he didn’t notice. Look for the one with blood on his gloves.”

“And the man who isn’t a man?”

Shrinking back, the girl shook her head until the headband went crooked. Her hand pressed over her heart, rubbing hard circles as her face creased.

“He’d know I saw him,” she said. “I don’t let them know I see them anymore.”

Now there was a tale and no mistake. A child with enough power to annoy things beyond the veil – one that survived an encounter – was rare indeed.

“What happened?” He lent his tone a shade of concern. Facts, he found, traveled swiftest to a sympathetic ear, and he needed to know everything. Curiosity was growing into practical fervor as the first dreams of a plan grew into place. “Are you ill?”

She crumbled just a little bit more, folding into herself to protect the place she rubbed from some invisible threat. “Sometimes I see things that don’t want to be seen. One of them – hurt me. There’s no scar, but it hurt me, and now it aches.”

The Magus donned a solemn expression, though he felt a thrill at the prospect sitting before him. The little girl had unusual skills, and though she wasn’t handled well by the adults governing her, they must still turn a pretty penny showing her in salons and private homes. He’d confirm what she’d said, of course, validate her little proof, but she was either a better liar than he’d ever met or she was childishly honest. He knew where he’d put his money.

Where he might very well invest it, actually.

He didn’t say goodbye, only nodding as he rose and went in search of the servant with bloody gloves.

Of course, he found him. When he demanded to see what the footman had in his pockets, the boy paled, stammering excuses, only to pull out a handful of forest detritus. As the young man fell into a whirl of confusion and disappointment, the Magus truly smiled. The first real smile since Lady Werthrope brought him to the child’s table.

He must have a proper conversation with the girl’s current guardians.

Aisling clung to her bag, drowning in the heat as the train pulled away from the Wych Cross platform. Men and women fanned themselves with hats and newspapers, desperate for a breeze in the dead summer stillness. Ladies shed their gloves. Men loosened their ties. Propriety mattered less when the air was trying to suffocate them, a crushing, inescapable oven scalding the usually damp countryside.

A miserable day to travel.

Sweat dripped down her back, soaking the neck of her dress, gluing her hair to her skin. But she didn’t have a free hand to stir a breeze. Her bag was too heavy, full of everything she would need in her new home, or at least everything the Fosters thought they couldn’t sell for a profit. Mrs. Foster took her to the train station and dropped her at the door.

“Here’s your ticket. You’re heading to Wych Cross, and then to Fawney Rig. Don’t forget, and don’t miss your train,” she’d said. Then she climbed back into the cab beside Mr. Foster and disappeared into the flow of London traffic.

They’d sold her on to someone else, and now they were free of her.

She peered around the station, but it was really just a platform. In London, there were helpful adults in uniforms and suits who pointed out the right train and the right stairs to reach it. Nothing here told her how to find Fawney Rig, though, and the only adult in a uniform seemed to be the man in the ticket booth.

She’d find her way. She wasn’t a baby after all. She was eight. And she could read very well, and no one was coming to help her, so she better figure it out.

She stood in line for the ticket man’s attention. Surely, he could give her directions. The Magus was rich, and a little famous, she thought, so his neighbors must know where he lived. If the man in the booth didn’t know, she’d keep asking until she found someone who did. While she waited her turn, she set down her suitcase and sat on it, taking deep breaths that tasted like salt. It could be worse. What if it rained instead? Well. Actually. Rain sounded very nice.

Soon enough, she took her place in front of the booth, and the man frowned under his mustache like she’d arrived with a bill or a letter from someone nasty. She smiled prettily, the way the Fosters told her to, and tried to make herself look like less of a problem as she clutched her case again.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but do you know the way to Fawney Rig?”

He physically recoiled, and his frown hooked deeper with glowering doubt as he scanned her. “Fawney Rig? That devil worshiper’s house? Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve been sent to live there, sir. I’m expected, but I don’t think they’ve sent anyone for me.” Manners made things easier with adults. Good manners and clear words – the fewer the better.

But the man wasn’t swayed. He looked thunderous. Like she’d broken something valuable and ought to pay for it with a lashing.

“Do you have money for a cab?”

The Fosters didn’t own her anymore, and they’d given her nothing but cards, and costumes, and a hairbrush. All the cash stayed warm and safe in their pockets.

“No, sir.”

“Then walk down the main road. Go east from the village, and keep going until there are no more houses you can see from the street. There’ll be a path on the left with a big iron gate. Follow that and you’ll find your devil worshipers.” He waved her off like he’d slap her if not for the glass. “Next!”

Manners got her what she needed, at least. “Thank you.”

The other adults all moved aside as she trundled through with her case. It made it easier to avoid clipping ankles and shins with her luggage, but she wondered if they hated her the way the ticket man hated her – because of Fawney Rig – or if she simply smelled after the long, stuffy ride in third class. Not that adults needed an excuse to dislike her. The nice ones called her uncanny and gifted. The mean ones called her a witch, and a bastard devil-spawn, and other names a mother should wash out of their mouths with soap.

She wasn’t sure which ones were telling the truth.

She knew the way forward, though. To Fawney Rig. That was good, even if the other adults didn’t think so. The Magus may not be a nice person, she hadn’t known him long enough for the usual adult lies to wear thin enough to see through, but he was smarter than the Fosters, and he’d given her a lemonade, so maybe she wouldn’t be as hungry or thirsty under his guardianship. She’d still have to work. Adults only wanted her if they thought she could give them something. But everything was more bearable with a good dinner and cold drinks.

She hoped he’d give her another cold drink, even water with some ice, when she reached his home. The train ride left her terribly thirsty.

Leaving the shaded platform, she bowed away from the sun’s violent touch and started on her journey. The village only kept a cobbled road in the center of town. It led up to the train station, linking it to a clutch of shops and offices. A parish church sat a little way back from the road, separated from the secular world by a field of tidy tombstones in heat-bleached grass. People noticed her. They looked. They whispered to each other. But no one waved or offered a hand. Gossip didn’t move fast enough to beat her here from the train, and she wondered how people could tell she was odd. Society had so many rules beyond manners, but no one would tell her what they were, and she never guessed right.

By the time the cobblestones ended, she was struggling to hold onto her suitcase. The handle kept trying to slip from her fingers, even when she held it with both hands, and she had to work harder and harder to keep it out of the dirt. If she knew anything about the world, it was that good children didn’t drag their luggage, and bad things happened to those that did. She’d travelled enough to learn, and she wanted to make a good impression on her new keeper and his household.

The road outside of town went a very, very long way. The ticket seller’s instructions made each step sound the same length: go through town, pass the houses, go down the long drive past the gates. Her imagination had lied to her, though. Every time she thought she’d passed the last house, there came another. Each handed her down the chain of cottage gardens and small homes full of families who pretended not to see. They all knew she’d done something, like she had a brand on her forehead, and she wasn’t allowed to stop. She didn’t try to.

Everything looked sickly yellow in the midday glare. Dust hung in the air, stirred by passing cars, lingering without a breath of wind to dispel the choking clouds. Everything looked flat and dead, so much so she almost missed the gate. Another leg of her trek done. Still too far to go, and the private road leading to the Magus’ home was longer than it had any right to be.

She didn’t feel well. The trees gave her a little protection, but her stomach and lungs felt hard, strained, the way her arms ached with carrying her suitcase. Only they were parts that shouldn’t feel that way, and she thought maybe she should sit down.

But she was almost there.

Even if she walked slowly, and her feet didn’t land quite where she told them to.

She just wouldn’t think about those things. Complaining was just making excuses, and she was expected.

The house appeared out of nowhere, or she was too dizzy to see it through the leaves before the last turn in the drive. It loomed, a very final-looking destination, and her suitcase escaped her grasp. The case was slippery, and her fingers didn’t curl the way they should. She bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, the whole world spun.

She stood very still until it stopped, and she found herself shivering as she approached the front door. Very strange. Was she afraid? No. That didn’t sound right. She felt terrible, too terrible to worry, and none of it made sense.

But she’d nearly made it. She had made it. Almost.

Knocking summoned a young man, and the door creaked open as he glanced down with a quizzical expression. “Hello? Can I help you?”

She tried holding her suitcase with just one hand, but it slipped away again, barely missing her foot. Maybe a handshake was a bad idea. The stranger hadn’t held his hand out for a shake, after all. She was just confused. He might not want to touch her. And she must look a picture after her walk.

She should’ve done something differently. If she were smarter, or taller, or…

“I’m Aisling Hunt, sir. The Magus sent for me.”

“Oh.” The young man’s eyes popped wider, and she wondered if he was younger than she thought at first. Stepping back, he pulled open the door to usher her inside. “I’m sorry. I’d heard someone was coming, but I’d thought you’d be… well, older. And I’m just Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Aisling.”

He nodded and plucked her bag from where she’d dropped it. “Yes. You said. Are you feeling alright?”

She didn’t know. And grownups didn’t really like it when she was unwell anyway. Before she could come up with a suitable lie that would get her what she needed without stepping on any toes, a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall.

“Ah! You made it.” Out of formal dress, the Magus still brimmed with authority. Aisling had met many adults who wore costumes and pretended to be something they weren’t, but the Magus seemed like he’d somehow stitched his chosen persona into his skin. “Welcome to Fawney Rig.”

She wobbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Magus,” he corrected.

“Thank you, Magus, sir.”

At last, what he was seeing overshadowed his enthusiasm, and the old man frowned. “Did you walk here? From the station?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“The Fosters didn’t even give you money for a fucking cab?”

“Just the train ticket, sir. Magus.”

She blinked, and the whole room turned blue, like peering at the world through stained glass. It looked so pretty she didn’t realize the Magus was asking her another question until his hand settled on her shoulder.

His voice came from far away. “Can you hear me?”

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, Magus, I walked, and I found Fawney Rig all on my own, and I’m not useless, please don’t throw me away yet.

But everything looked cool, and blue, and lovely. She was floating in it. Floating and so awfully heavy at the same time. The color slipped in with her breath, eroding her control until it slipped from her grasp like the suitcase had.

The world went dark, and she didn’t see, hear, or say anything more.

And deep below, in the belly of the house, Dream of the Endless waited in his cage, as senseless to the world above as she.

[bah-theater]

The Curtains Open…

[pt: the curtains open…]

Come one, come all! Hello, audience! We know this type of blog has been created over and over again, you’ve got plenty of options; we’ve just decided to throw our hat in the ring! 🎩🪄

Welcome to our BAH (Build A Headmate) blog. We are pro-endo and anti-radqueer, however anyone can interact. (We can include paraphilias as an add on—minus inherently non-consensual ones—because we see no harm in most of them.)

We are a small system which will remain anonymous for the time being. You may know us as the Theater of Chaos, and use they/them pronouns for us.

Below you will find links to our template, source list, inbox check, and our tags.

[REQUESTS: CLOSED - exception is ASK GAMES] - temporary break until the poll closes. Expect the queue to be somewhat filled by the time we’re back!

Ask games: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven [yes these are all the games we've ever reblogged. I love ask games]

[Inbox/Drafts: 13] [Queue: 0]

Hoarding blog: @bahhoard

Templates

Source List

Inbox Check

Tags:

#Anonmyous🎭 - headmates made of our own whim.

#Anonymous clients🪄 - anonymous requests.

#Known clients🎩 - requests with a sign-off or with a blog attached.

#Ask games🎟️ - contains both packs made from ask games and the original reblogged post.

#Non-requests❌ - well…self explanatory. Not requests.

(Any known sign-offs will also be added to their requests.)

Sign-offs:

🪐 / 🧬💊 / 🌻 / 💗🔪 / 🎀🌈 / 🌌💥 / S.E.L / 🟣🟡 / 📺🌈

(Divider credit)