#taught to be weapons and to be nothing but means to an end and then shipped into the unknown

[just-another-dreamerr]

i am once again feeling unwell over clone troopers

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

I saw someone did an Ask about Damien and Danny knowing each other and just keeping in touch just not letting the Batfam know (was it Angel and Demon Brat or something?not sure).

What if we break some hearts,

We have big brother Danny who is dead (the big brother who told him it was okay to call others brother and that blood wasn't everything no matter what grandfather said), Tucker (or Sam or Jazz) just barely escaped Amity's destruction (maybe the GIW went nuclear on the city, maybe a ghost or demon finally got the better of Danny, maybe the portal need to be closed and Danny's life was the price, or maybe the city was already gone and Danny barely got Tucker and Dani out dealers choice) and tearful introduces Damien to his niece (Last last piece of the man he's spent countless lives thinking about, dreaming about and loving since his first life (I love Pharaoh/magically powerful Tucker)).

That got way more detail the more I was writing, haha... Oops 😳😬.

What do you think? Or just whatever pops into your mind. You do you, whatever you put out will be amazing!

There is loud, awful banging coming from the front door.

Or, to be more specific, there is someone banging on the door as hard as they can. At first, Alfred is wondering if he is imagining things. It was a rather quiet night for the bats to be out and about.

There was a storm that had blown through Gotham, driving everyone to take shelter. The howling winds and ran had left even the worst of scum chilled to their bones.

The bats were on their way home. Having called it a night after the third time, the wind had nearly caused two of them to fall while grappling across the city.

When he heard the noise, Alfred had just finished prepping the cave for post-patrol and went up to get everyone some warm clothes. He immediately went for one of the hidden guns around the manor.

Master Bruce was unaware of them, but Alfred had been able to hide the weapons since the lad was five years old.

Crouching low to the ground, he slowly approached one of the windows that overlooked the front door. Whoever had come knocking had somehow gotten past the first three levels of security.

Alfred leaned up only so one of his eyes could look over the window shill, keeping his back to the wall for easy push-off and the shotgun at the ready.

None of their motion detectors, video cameras, or heat vision cameras had detected the two standing figures on his porch. He couldn't see them clearly due to the water splashing against the glass, but it seemed like a man and a child.

Narrowing his eyes, Alfred leaned back down. He quickly pressed the side of his watch in three rapid clicks. At once, the signal that the manor may be compromised went out, alerting his returning family.

Alfred did not wait for a response from them. Instead, he threw himself on the ground, using the crawling technique taught to him by his years in Her Majesty's service to get closer to the door.

He trains the barrels at the wood, ignoring the desperate banging. Usually, he would have opened the door to question who they were, but it was nearly four in the morning, and he could have sworn that the man had been wearing a purple jacket and pantsuit.

In Gotham, that could only mean one thing. If the Joker was here, he would not live to see another sunrise. Alfred was done with that fool harming his family. Master Bruce's wishes be damned.

The only reason he didn't take the shot, for surely the bullets would pass through the aged wood, was that he had seen a more petite figure, too—a child.

He isn't sure who the child is—or if it is even a child—but he can't risk ending the Joker until he is sure the small;ler one is safe. Alfred had seen war many times in his military days; he did not want to force a child to live with them, too.

A few minutes pass when the banging sound starts to slow down, and there is nothing but silence. The wind contuines to howl. The rain continues to spray across the roof, and the lightning and thunder continue to roar.

Alfred feels his fingers strain with the urge to shoot but he keeps still ignoring everything until his watch beeps softly three times. Master Bruce and the children had arrived.

They must not have come through the cave, for he does not hear or sense an approach from anywhere inside the manor. A shadow overpasses him, causing Alfred to snap his gun in that direction until he registers it in the shape of a bat and quickly reaims towards the door.

He keeps himself perfectly still on the ground, even as he starts to hear faint curses, thumps, and a chilling little girl's scream. There is a moment of stillness before two figures fly through the wood—the child and the made-in-purple.

Alfred has a moment of surprise. It seemed the child was a meta before he pulled the trigger, aiming for the man's knees. His aim has not dulled with age, and the bullet sails true. Sadly, the little girl had faster reflections, making the faint glow surrounding her travel down her arm and to the man's body.

Their bodies become intangible as the bullet passes the man easily. Alfred frowns, reloading as he rolls over and swings himself to his feet.

The front door slams open as Master Bruce rushes in, followed by Master Damian. The two crime fighters slam into the strangers, somehow able to touch them when, seconds ago, metal couldn't.

Master Bruce flings the man to the wall, slamming him against one of the tables, while Master Damian has the girl in a painful hold. She thrashes and fails, but she can't get out, and Alfred wonders if her powers are limited.

Alfred trains the gun on the scene, keeping an eye on both Master Bruce and Master Damian at all times in case he needs to cover them.

"Who are you?" Master Bruce hisses, holding the purple suit man up by his collar. At this point, Alfred can see it is not Joker, for the stranger is far too young and has the wrong ethnicity.

"How did you find us?" the man gasps instead of answering, his eyes filled with tears. "The government wasn't supposed to find us here! Wayne was supposed to be safe!"

Alfred doesn't allow his brow to raise, but it's a darn thing. It didn't sound like they were here to do any harm, but one could never be too careful.

"Why are you after Wayne?"

"Don't tell him anything!" The little girl screeches, rainwater mixing with the blood dripping down her face. Master Damian had not been gentle when he slammed her against the ground. He was likely worried about Alfred. "We aren't afraid of you, GIW scum!"

"GIW?" Master Damian repeats. "Who or what are they?"

Both strangers freeze. "You're not with them?"

Master Bruce remains silent, and for one tense moment, Alfred wonders if the other man has passed out from the way he slumps in his old ward's hold.

"You're not with them. Thank the Ancients." The man gasps. He suddenly reaches out, grabbing Master Bruce in a craze of desperation. "My daughter. She's in danger. Please get her to Damian Wayne. Danny said he could protect her. Please... please help us."

His strength fades, and the man finally does fall unconscious, his hold on Master Bruce's slipping as he faints. The little girl screams- it doesn't sound human at all, and the noise likely started Master Damian's reflection, for the boy is quickly slamming onto her back, knocking her out, too.

Alfred finally lowers his weapon as the lightning flashes again, followed by loud thunder. He waits a few minutes before creeping towards Master Bruce.

The other is checking the stranger, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line once they spot that underneath the purple outfit, there are multiple wounds. Burns, cuts, and bruises decorate the dark skin of the stranger.

It's easy to see he escaped from somewhere abusive.

A gutted gasp from Master Damian has them swinging around, Alfred with his gun raised and Master Bruce with one of his batarangs at the ready. Instead of seeing the youngest being attacked, they find Damian staring in horror at the amulet he is holding.

The chain is still around the girl's neck as she was flipped onto her back- likely the lad was also checking her for wounds. Alfred can't see much but he can tell she may be just as wounded as the man.

"What is it, Robin" Master Bruce growls.

There is silence from the Katana user until one single tear rolls down from underneath the boy's mask over his cheek. He looks up at them with the most devastated expression Alfred has ever seen as he whispers.

"She bares my older brother's mark. Father, I think she's family."

"What, brother?" Master Bruce asks. "You never mentioned a brother before."

"He died.....years ago, but if Todd returned, then my brother...I left my kind-hearted brother in my Grandfather's grasp. I left him..."

The lighting flashes behind Master Damian's form, highlighting the devastation on his expression, and Alfred is filled with confusion, horror, and worry faster than the thunder can catch up.

Master Bruce's face loses all emotion- the coping mechanism Alfred had seen him use since the day he was found in that alley by the cold bodies- and growls. "To the cave. I want answers."

[francis-writes]

A/N: I love this request, there's nothing better than inherent subtextual eroticism of fighting together and trying to kill each other (Fr it's good for all kinds of bonding; i spent a year learning judo and self-defense and there's something real about friendship and trust between two people who every week throw each other on the floor, strangle each other and twist each other's arms)

you knew how to fight, at least the basics. Enough to defend yourself, but there's never too much fighting skills in this dangerous world. Especially when you live on Giedi Prime

When you asked Feyd if he could teach you (after all he was a famous warrior), he immediately agreed. He enjoyed every occasion to fight and even if he wasn't going to kill you or maim you, the idea of training together still made him happy (and turned on). It's just two his favourite things mixed together: you and violence

Your training together included many things; building your strength and stamina, wrestling barehand, fighting with many weapons (mostly knives but also iron bars, whips, swords etc)

No matter how much affection he holds for you, he's a teacher with high standards so don't count on any special treatment. He attacks you, like he would attack his real opponent and if you don't have good enough reflex, then next time act faster. He won't hurt you (more than a few scratches and bruises) but Feyd points out every time you make a mistake

Even if you are tired or not in the mood, he kinda forces you to it, just like Gurney Halleck forces Paul. It's well-meaning, considering that danger doesn't choose a moment when you're perfectly relaxed and full of energy

When you get better, he offers you a fight with a drugged up prisoner. What you say to that is up to you

NSFW: even though he's a professional warrior and these lessons taught you a lot, they really often ended up in sex (not even in the bedroom, poor servants had later more trouble with cleaning floor od training room than usual). It was enough that during fight he pressed you to the floor. Or you put a knife to his throat. Or you got scratched and started bleeding (he will immediatelylick that blood off). That's why Feyd can never took you to war.

[ironmandeficiency]

the fellowship + romance

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin

word count: 1177

summary: just some soft shit bc these men are all sappier than any tree in the greenwood

a/n: there’s still an overwhelming lack of gimli content that needs to be fixed and i will do my part

aragorn 🗡️

aragorn’s quiet presence is the warmest blanket on a cold night, the first bite of a meal you slaved over for hours, every comfort you’ve ever experienced

he’s never been one for overwhelming displays of his affections; instead, he shows you in simple ways that add up - giving you the more full bowls of broth, laying his blanket over you if he notices you shivering during night watch, sharpening your weapons (this one had gimli nearly brought to tears by the devotion it spoke of), anything that helps your days pass easier

he grew up around stories of elves who committed astounding feats in the name of those they loved, fighting wars and risking their lives with alarming frequency. but none of them ever talked about the everyday ways they showed love. his mother taught him what she could about those things, stories of his father’s steady presence and stalwart love for his family. a young aragorn took these lessons to heart and used them when the time was right

it was why, when he caught his heart skipping beats around you, he let his actions do the speaking for him. without fail you would thank him with a soft smile, slowly coming to realize that aragorn felt something much deeper for you than camaraderie. when you woke up early one morning to find your weapons sharper than they were the day before (not for the first time), you went straight to aragorn and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. he nearly dropped your bowl of stew in his flustered state

having your affections secured didn’t mean he stopped his small acts of kindness, it did quite the opposite. it just made him bolder and more confident in his actions

boromir 🍻

this man is so damn tactile it’s ridiculous

if you’re the cuddly type like he is, it makes him all the more eager to always have some form of physical contact with you, no matter where you may be

unless you tell him to back off, he is always touching you one way or another. a gentle hand on the small of your back, your pinkies interlocked, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, anything to keep you close to him

his favorite time of day eventually becomes the end of it, because that’s when he can hold you close and whisper soft words of love in your ear while he holds you. he makes it his goal to give you a goodnight kiss every night you spend together

the best cuddle position in his mind is you leaning your back against his chest, one of his hands resting on your hip where his thumb rubs small circles above the bone, and his chin resting on your shoulder just right to where he can turn his head to kiss your cheek or burrow his face into your neck

gimli 🛡️

valiantly is the best way to describe how gimli approaches any situation he comes upon, including (and especially) matters of the heart

this is a dwarf who says what he means & means what he says, who does nothing that he wouldn’t be proud of the next day. because of this, you couldn’t find it in you to not believe him when he professed his love for you with such unwavering confidence you were nearly brought to tears. gimli never said anything just because his lips could move so you simply had to believe him

will do you favors big and small simply because he wants to help you however possible. you can’t remember the last time you carried your own pack or made your own bowl of soup. if you encouraged him (which you wouldn’t), this romantic fool would not let you lift another finger for as long as you both live

he grew up watching his parents with keen eyes, his adad showing him by example how a true dwarf treats their one. he embodies these lessons with every interaction with you, striving to be the one you deserve him to be. it ranges from the ferocity of his protection to opening doors for you. may mahal strike him down if he ever hurts you

he just wants to be a dwarf you’re proud to love, proud to call yours

legolas 🏹

physical affection can be difficult for him, but one thing legolas is good at doing is speaking his mind and his heart

if you thought his regular speaking pattern was overflowing with poetic descriptors, you’ve heard nothing compared to when he’s being truly romantic. no one you’d been with before had ever described you with such beautiful prose, never whispered soft poetry about your eyes to lull you to sleep

and he’s a cheeky bastard about it too! it’ll be a regular conversation between friends, nothing important, then BAM! he’s making quippy one-liners about your overwhelming skill/beauty/personality that catch you off guard and has your friends cackling at your flustered reaction to his flattery

even better, his praise will often include sindarin and on the off chance you don’t speak it, you’ll have to gauge the meaning from the silent looks shared between your dear elf and aragorn (doesn’t really work). eventually legolas tells you what some of them mean; after all, he needs to have an element of intrigue about him or his name isn’t legolas thranduillion

he carries a lot of pride for you and will brag about you to anyone who listens, his melleth being one of unparalleled skill and beauty and bright laughter that carries his soul on great wings

pippin 🥕

his already strong need to be silly and foolish grows exponentially when he finds out how happy it makes you

pip doesn’t care what it is you ask of him, he will do anything to hear your laugh. he’ll put baby carrots in his nostrils, respond to conversations exclusively in farm animal noises, he will even do his spot-on impressions of the rest of the fellowship and make them say all sorts of silly things

the best one to date is him doing an aragorn impression that consists of all the different ways he says legolas’s name

you’ve never heard such astounding colloquialisms from anyone until you met pippin - “don’t eat half the berries and say the pie shell’s too big,” “his cornbread isn’t done in the middle,” “if brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug” - and each time he says one, there’s always a not-so-subtle look to you so he can see your reaction. the ones that get the most laughs are used a little bit more, just enough to not lose their appeal but enough to hear your laughter all the more often

there is a single-minded determination to hear your snort when you laugh at something he says, and he will not rest until you do. his personal goal to do this resets each time you do actually snort, him now aiming for the next joke or prank that will bring it out again

[cambion-companion]

“Just let me finish this and I swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” (144) lets get down to bussines

Part 2 of "Spray of Blood"

Word count: 2724

reader gets lost trying to run back to King's Landing and Aemond, still splattered in blood, has to find her and bring her back to safety.

haha this is a joint effort it seems! Also I have wanted to write reader sitting on Aemond's face so thank you for #86

28. i’m just getting comfy

74. “Do you want me to stay?”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

98. “if we weren’t in public right now i’d have my head between your legs”

Aemond x wife!reader | smutty ending | 18+ only | fluff and a sprinkle of angst | Aemond isn't super happy lmao

You were lost.

Cursing, you stopped in the middle of the empty street, turning on the spot, surveying your unfamiliar surroundings.

"Fuck me sideways." You muttered, taking a moment to rub your aching temples.

You had indulged in too much spiced wine at the festival, muddling your already questionable orienteering skills.

"If the lady insists." A hissing voice accompanied a slender man emerging from the shadows of a stone building.

He held no weapon, seeming to think you easy prey as he strode forward, already unbuckling his trousers.

You still held the stone you had picked up when Aemond had confronted the men in the market, and so you collected your frayed nerves, taking careful aim as Aemond had taught you.

You threw the shard of brick, it struck true with a dull thud to the man's head. He went down like a sack of flour, hitting the damp cobblestones with a dull thud.

Shaking, you hurried on your way, in the direction you hoped the Red Keep was in. At least you were still walking uphill, that seemed to be a good sign.

After a few minutes of meandering, warm yellow light fell upon your face, a tavern in front of you that appeared cozy and welcoming. As you entered, you noticed a few other patrons, but the dining area and counter was mostly empty. A squat looking man was stacking dishware behind the bar counter as you took a seat.

He gave you a cursory glance with a raised eyebrow, you shifted to hide the fine fabric of your dress beneath the cloak you still wore. You pulled back your hood, wanting to be recognizable if Aemond passed the window searching for you.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked in a gruff baritone, seeming not to care what brought you to his establishment so long as you had gold.

"Do you have hot tea? Or something non-alcoholic?" You asked. "I just came from the fire festival and had a bit too much to drink there."

"Ah I see!" The man smiled, his ruddy cheeks reflecting the candlelight. "Yes, I can get you some green tea brewed up. Does wonders for a hangover."

"Thank you."

Minutes passed, turning to hours as you sat at the uncomfortable wooden table. You drank several mugs of steaming earthy tea, enjoying the way it warmed your body from the inside out.

"Are ye waiting for someone?" The bartender looked at you quizzically, clearly wondering why you were remaining for so long. All the other patrons had left for their homes by now.

"Yes, my husband."

"You're lost?"

You shifted uneasily in your seat, casting him a wary glance.

He raised his hands, a towel draped over his shoulder. "I mean you no harm miss, but if you'd like directions, I can give them." He glanced outside at the dark streets. "Though perhaps it best if you wait here, it's not safe for anyone to be wandering about right now."

"Where am I?"

He chuckled looked at you with a fatherly smile. "Outskirts of Flea Bottom."

You groaned.

"Not where you intended to be I expect. Not wearing a dress like that."

You shifted your cloak to cover yourself better.

"You have nothing to fear from me." The keeper reiterated. "I'll not cast you out till your husband comes to fetch you."

"Thank you." You lay your head upon your hands, staring glassy eyed out the window, praying to all the gods Aemond would find you.

You had fallen into a doze, jolted awake by the sound of the inn door slamming open and the exclamation of the barkeep still behind his counter.

Aemond, glorious with his shining hair and piercing violet eye, strode into the tavern, his gaze locked onto you.

"My-my prince! What an unexpected..." The tavern keeper trailed off as he watched Aemond walking purposefully toward you.

You rose from your seat, throwing your arms around Aemond's neck as he pulled you against him, his hands at your back, stroking soothingly as he kissed your ear.

You tried your best not to sob. "Aemond, I got lost."

"You're the wife of Aemond Targaryen?"

The two of you broke apart to turn to the front of the room, where the keeper was bowing low.

"He helped keep me safe." You interlocked your fingers with Aemond's.

Your husband stepped up to the rough wood counter, depositing a bag of clinking coins onto its surface. "You have my gratitude."

The man continued to bow, averting his gaze. Aemond made a soft "hmm" in the back of his throat, guiding you out of the warm room into the cool night air.

You didn't get far before he pulled you to a stop, his taut face illuminated silver in the moonlight. "I've been searching for you for hours, Y/N."

"I-"

He held up a hand to stop you from speaking. "You were not in our rooms. So, I returned to the square as quickly as I could, asking anyone still outside if they had seen you."

You looked down at your feet guiltily as Aemond continued.

"Imagine my surprise when I find a man collapsed upon the ground, a stone beside him and a lump on his forehead."

"He...had ill intentions." You whispered, still studying your shoes.

"Hmm. A shame I left him alive then." Aemond's fingers hooked under your chin, pulling your face to look up at him. "However, that is how I found you sitting in that tavern."

You slowly moved forward, tentatively wrapping your arms around Aemond's waist. You could tell how worn and anxious he was, specks of blood still upon his tunic from the men he'd dispatched earlier that evening.

"Aemond, I'm sorry for getting lost. I...was panicking and a little drunk." You smiled weakly as his face softened, his lilac eye roving your features as you rubbed small circles to the small of his back.

"I had intended this to be a relaxing evening of fun." Aemond said, giving a short laugh of derision. He cupped your face in his hands. You noticed they shook slightly. "I was beside myself with worry, Y/N." He brushed his soft lips to yours gently. "This is not a place for a woman to wander alone."

"You have me safe now, Aemond."

"And safe is where I will keep you."

He kissed you firmly, slanting his mouth over yours, his fingers tangling in your hair as you made a soft noise against him. In the tension of his body against your own you felt how worked up he was from the events of the night, the intensity with which he kissed you promised bruised lips in the morning.

“If we weren’t in public right now I'd have my head between your legs."

"Aemond." You whispered, shocked, as you checked over your shoulder for anyone listening. The streets were luckily empty, though several windows were wide open.

"Come." The prince grasped your hand firmly in his and began leading you in the correct direction of the Red Keep.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight of your chambers, lit with the orange glow of a blazing fire in the hearth that you immediately crossed to stand before, warming your hands.

Your large, clawed bathtub sat full of steaming water in the middle of the room.

Aemond came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I had the servants draw a bath for your return, we are fortunate it seems to still be hot."

You felt him beginning to loosen the ties of your dress. "Do you want me to stay?" He asked, nuzzling into your neck. "I'd understand if you need to be alone. It has been a...difficult evening."

"Please stay, Aemond. I need you with me, especially right now."

He kissed your neck and resumed undoing your dress. You smiled to yourself at his evident eagerness to see you laid bare before him.

The fabric of your dress and undergarments pooled around your feet, you leaned into Aemond's warm touch as he fondled the curves of your ass and hips with one hand, his other reaching around to stroke at your breasts.

You turned to him, allowing his gaze to roam your firelit body. "You are still covered in blood, my lord husband." Your wandering fingers began undoing the clasps of his own clothing, shedding each garment with tender care until he was as naked as you, his thick member already standing at attention.

You smiled coyly at him, allowing him to support your balance as you stepped into the hot water of the bath. You sank down into the silken water, scooting forward enough for Aemond to take his place behind you.

You pressed your back against him, your hands running along his legs as they caged your body, his arms wrapping around your torso.

"I'm just getting comfy." You murmured, leaning back so that your head rested against Aemond's chest, looking up at his adoring gaze.

He had removed his eyepatch, the sapphire gemstone glittering dazzlingly by the reflection of firelight against the water that now lapped against the edges of the wooden tub.

The two of you rested like this together, rubbing each other down with soap and wash cloths. You took your time cleansing Aemond's skin, feeling the knots in his tense muscles and kneading them loose, his eye fluttered shut at your loving attentions.

Only when the water had cooled and the two of you began to shiver, did you exit the bath, helping each other towel down until you were relatively dry. Aemond grabbed your waist, pulling you in for another scorching kiss, one of many he'd bestowed upon you that night.

"Lay on the bed for me."

You obeyed, perhaps misinterpreting his meaning as you wrapped yourself in your nightrobe before getting comfortable in bed. You watched Aemond from your cocoon of blankets as he busied himself trying to get the stains out of his tunic and undershirt.

"Aemond..." You called quietly, trying to entice him over with the lilt of your voice.

"The blood has set into the fabric long enough, Y/N. Give me a moment to try and lift it."

"Aemond." You wiggled beneath the covers, seeking to draw his gaze.

“Just let me finish this and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

"If you don't come over here now, I'm going to start touching myself."

You knew just what to threaten.

With a growl, Aemond threw down his ruined shirt upon the sofa, striding to the bed and throwing the blankets off your body. "Take that off." His dilated eye took in your tantalizing curves wrapped up in your fluffy nightrobe.

"I'm cold."

"Do not tease me anymore this eve." Aemond crawled over your prone form, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip. "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

You undid the tie around your waist, shifting the fabric off, exposing yourself once more to your husband's eager touch. His fingers rolled your pebbling nipples, tugging at your flesh, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as you arched into him.

"Already so wet for me." Aemond murmured against your lips, his hand cupping your sex, feeling between your slick folds.

You gasped at the feeling of him exploring you. In a fluid motion, you rolled your entwined bodies over, shifting to sit on his torso, looking down at Aemond's face, his curved lips parted in surprise.

"I want to be on top." You could barely speak, so entranced you were at the sight of him laid beneath you, his silver hair spread out atop the pillows. "Let me do this, please."

You rocked your hips, feeling his hard arousal beneath you as you stroked your vulva along Aemond's shaft. His eyelid fluttered at the sensation, his hands rising to grip your hips as you lost yourself in the feeling of him.

"Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

Your mouth parted, Aemond tugged you a little forward by his grip on your hips. "Are-are you sure I won't suffocate you?"

Aemond laughed. "If you do, I couldn't think of a better way to go."

Heat pooled in your belly as you scooted forward, bracing your hands against the bedframe as you hovered on your knees over Aemond's face. "You're sure?"

"Y/N."

Aemond rose just enough to tease your entrance with his nose, nuzzling against your swollen clit. You gasped, lowered yourself rather gracelessly onto his angular face.

You quivered, feeling Aemond's tongue working against you as you rocked gently against him. His chin, his nose all pressed against your most sensitive parts. The wet sound of him lapping up your essence filled the darkened room.

"Oh Aemond." You gripped the bedframe tighter, making sure to not actually suffocate your husband with your cunt no matter how he tried to pull you more against his searching mouth, his fingers pressing deep against the flesh of your thighs.

He grunted, the vibration of his voice causing you to clench around the tip of his tongue as he fucked it into you. His nose continued pressing and rubbing against your clit, Aemond moving his whole face with your movements as you began to grind down on him, losing your self control.

His name spilled from your panting mouth, your climax rushing over you like waves upon the sea cliffs. Aemond drank you down eagerly, his tongue lapping you up as though you tasted of the finest wine. You rode out your orgasm on his face, your legs shaking as you lifted yourself off him, collapsing to the mattress as your husband rolled over you once more. His hair was a mess, his lips and chin soaked from your juices. You bit your bottom lip at the lewd sight, his eye tracking the movement.

Aemond kissed you, more gently than you had anticipated, his tongue searching your mouth, allowing you to taste your own release as he lined his cock to your entrance. You gripped the back of his head, gasping against him as he sunk slowly into you. Aemond's breath filled your lungs as his cock stretched you out deliciously, filling you until he was fully seated within your still quivering walls.

Aemond broke your kiss, pulling away enough to watch your face as he began rutting into you. His gentleness gave way to a rougher, more desperate pace, his cock brushing your cervix with every punishing stroke. You clung to him, your legs rising instinctively to allow him deeper access.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, his chest still flush against your own as he nibbled the shell of your ear. "I can feel you tightening around me." You cried out as he increased his pace still more, fucking you deep into the mattress. "I need you to come. Show me you're mine." His cock twitched inside you. "Mine alone to claim."

"I am yours, Aemond." You felt your second orgasm of the night begin to rush through your body, your spasming quim already beginning to milk his member. "Forever yours."

Your name, so sweet on Aemond's tongue, filled the night air, mingling with your wordless moans of ecstasy as your husband spilled his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He pushed himself as deep into you as he could, remaining rooted there until you had both come down from the high of your climax.

Your legs were shaking in earnest now, Aemond reluctantly pulled away, his cum spilling out of you onto the now ruined bedsheets. Exhausted, satiated, and heedless of the mess you'd made, Aemond pulled you against him, encasing you in his arms. He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you made a pillow of his chest, his legs still tangled with your own.

Sleep took you quickly, a lock of Aemond's silken hair wrapped around your forefinger as you had a habit of doing when seeking comfort.

Aemond lay awake for a long while after you had drifted off, his mind still alive with the fear and rage that had consumed him mere hours before. Bedding you had taken the edge off, however the many gruesome possibilities of what could have happened remained unbidden and unwelcome.

He held you tighter against his lithe body, feeling the reassuring rise and fall of your chest on his, the light snores emitting from your slack mouth. Eventually exhaustion overtook Aemond, his eye falling closed, his lips still pressed to your head even in sleep.

[fricc-darn]

Warning for abuse involving teens and adults (mental and physical), poor mental health, and just upsetting topics

None of them asked for this life, not in the slightest. Not one person was prepared for this to be the outcome of their ascension. Everyone wanted to go home. Whatever was left behind of their old lives, they'd gladly choose anything but this. It seemed like each day, someone new would be added to the system. So many people with their aspirations and desires ripped away from them. It was a cycle of tragedy.

The lives they had lived were difficult, cruel, and shameful. Being utterly disenfranchised meant that society would turn a blind eye to the most vulnerable. It made them easy targets, to be picked off the street like ripened berries. They were lulled into this fellowship with false promises of self-improvement and community.

To be told that the pain they felt was nothing but a wound that would soon heal with tougher skin. With guidance, their gifted potential would shine through. Every single person involved had a purpose. To live a devoted life to Luna's cause. An eternity of paradise awaited them after death.

The day of true enlightenment would come when midnight whispers came to them sweetly. When it happens, death shouldn't be feared but embraced, as they have surpassed this life. That is when this world and all of its unfairness come to an end. They would survive. She had chosen for them to live. It had given them hope.

But those whispers never came. Yet, people were told their time had come.

If only they had known that they would be used as some kind of lab rat. Everyone's naiveté and what remained of their childlike wonder were weaponized against them repeatedly. Having their bodies humiliated in the name of spirituality. Their flesh was mangled by barbarism and left to rot. Ultimently, they would never be treated with the deserved humanity, even after death. If only they had known to stop feeding into the lies.

They were worn thin. Was anything they were taught real? It had to be, to some degree. This world was supposed to be salvation, but the skepticism couldn't be helped. They did what they were supposed to. Cleansing the filth that tainted their souls. Putting what little confidence they had left into Luna. A perfect fairytale for this never-ending nightmare. Maybe life would have been kinder if they weren't deeply troubled individuals. Loving parents? A stable environment? Better physical and mental health? Anything?

Yet, what could anyone do about what was said and done? This was a prison for tortured souls.

Not only were their experiences shared, but now so were their pain, their sadness, and their anger. A collective burning resentment felt so heavy that they wondered if they were all from the same womb. As if this was the family they craved.

They were one. With themselves and everyone in their...group. Expressing a newfound tenderness towards each other during their troubles. For some, memories were being stripped and forgotten after a few days. Others desperately clung on to what they could remember. The ability to live on after death was a true gift as much as it was a curse. A second chance, if you will. Was this a gift from man or Luna?

Truthfully, this new life was better to some degree. This wasn't a repeating lie they would say in an attempt to pacify their rapidly changing emotions. People don't suffer for nothing. There was meaning behind it. It was a beautiful weakness that easily bloomed like a sore. It was so human. A reminder of what they were no longer. They were now something much more than any person. Life was going to be different this time around. As a collective, they swore on it. For themselves and each other. 

No one would have to endure the inescapable abuse that was inflicted upon them ever again. In this world, they were never hungry or cold; they had a place to sleep and clothes on their backs. Here, it was safe. No one could hurt them again, and they'd make sure of it. 

The darkest parts of every soul, which were once hidden away, began to reveal themselves. Communal bitterness festered and spread like the plague. They were all told anything could happen in this world. They could be or do anything. In that case, they would do things they could only dream of. Everyone wished that they had lived life more selfishly, and now was their chance. If their souls were truly bound to this God-forsaken game, it would only make sense to treat life like one. 

The network grew curious. For the first time, they had control over their lives. The roles have changed. It wanted to know what it was like to hurt someone. To feel how good it felt to break someone down to nothing. To have things go their way. They needed to hurt someone; it was instinctual. To prove to themselves that there was some bright side to this mess. That it has the ability to make people listen. Using the same methods that others have done to them.

Who they were as individuals mattered little. They'd make their presence known as one. It was only fair that after what they've been through, their amusement should be placed before all else. They deserved this; this was their reward! If only they had a fraction of this authority sooner.

[shadowtraveled]

In your Mithrun analysis, when you say “maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.” who is the ‘someone’ in your mind? Milsiril? Kabru and the canaries? I loved your analysis, so I’m curious

OH kabru absolutely

milsiril spared him and, decades later, helped him with his physical rehabilitation, but it seems like she more or less gave up on his personhood. no more desires -> no more mithrun as we knew him -> no more mithrun. she spared him because he wasn’t completely devoid of motivation to live, and she used the single motivator he had left to eventually get him to keep himself alive, and she briefly even seemed to want to try and instill some of his old mask (even with the understanding that that’s what it was) back into him, but that fell through immediately and i think with it went her optimism that mithrun would ever… be a person again. “too late now, i guess.”

then the canaries are on good enough terms with him, but they’re practically instructed to treat him like a weapon or a tool they’re maintaining. i believe it’s cithis that tells kabru to take care of mithrun but clarifies that really what that is is just making sure he eats. ensuring his baseline needs for survival are met. and really, that’s all she was ever tasked with. when it’s all over and mithrun is cataleptic, the canaries stay physically near him, but they seem to have accepted that he’s gone—without the demon to chase, he has nothing to live for. cithis, though, seems to be closer to mithrun than any of the others, and i don’t think it’s a coincidence that she’s the one who calls lycion off and encourages kabru to try engaging with him when she hears the beginning of what he has to say.

this post caught a lot of my opinions regarding mithrun’s relationships (linking to my reblog of it because i dumped some thoughts in the tags) but tldr i do think milsiril and the canaries fall short of thinking of mithrun as a person, and that’s why their relationships with him fail him somewhat. i don’t think that’s their fault, because it seems like they were taught to think of losing your desires as a complete loss of self and humanity, but it does mean they see mithrun as someone who has already been lost. kabru is demonstrably different in that he’s able to help mithrun see a future beyond the demon, and he’s able to do it because he deals with mithrun like he’s human. because he is. and all of that stems from the specific aspect of kabru’s personality that is his obsession with people

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 ~ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞

word count: 1.2k

genre/tropes: second chance, romance, lovers to strangers to...?

warnings: smut, gaslighting, dumbification, slight degredation if you squint, nothing super hardcore.

pt two

notes from bambi: this story starts off with chris and fmc as children - the smut does not happen here. obviously. enjoy!

I should have known the love of my life wouldn’t be someone who smacked me on the head with a meter stick, but I was thirteen and Christopher Sturniolo was cute. What was I supposed to do?

With science class almost over, students lined up at the door and ready to leave, Chris decided to enact his genius plan. He didn’t hit me hard, just enough to get my attention, and it worked–I turned to face him, shocked and a little curious. Above my head, the wooden stick, behind me in line, Christopher Sturniolo, though I wouldn’t learn his name until the next day. 

I reached for the nefarious weapon and he tilted it upward, just out of reach. A game. I liked games. I batted the air as a grin spread across his lips, still keeping his makeshift flirtation device out of my hands. A laugh escaped me and his eyes seemed to sparkle.

I thought about that interaction for the rest of the day–what did it all mean? The minds of the male species is almost incalculable in regards to flirtation, especially in middle school. But god, he managed to be the cutest kid around with that curly brown hair, with his uneven teeth that added such charm to his smile, his playful nature, and oh, his confidence–I practically ran to science the next day.

“‘M Chris,” he said, sitting behind me at the next table over. 

“You hit me yesterday,” I replied with a faux pout. 

“Had to get your attention somehow.” He hung one arm over the back of his chair and looked up at me through devastatingly long lashes. “Did I hurt ya?”

I sniffed. “No. Could have said my name like a civilized creature.”

“What is your name?” Chris asked smoothly–I walked into that one.

I told him and he tasted it on his tongue for a moment. “Nice to meet you,” he murmured and reached out to shake my hand. 

I pulled my ruler out of my pencil bag and handed it to him instead. “For the next time you need my attention.” His jaw dropped and his eyes got that sparkle again. Turning back around, I felt my stomach drop into a flurry of butterflies. By the end of class, I had his number, and before the week was out, I began to sit with him, his brothers, and his friends at lunch.

Our relationship progressed quickly, as most in middle school tend to, and he asked me to be his girlfriend three weeks later. 

I remember sneaking my phone into bed with me so we could call at night. He used to make me laugh so hard I thought for sure I’d wake my parents up. I remember going to the library with him so I could read and he could get out of class and nap on the beanbags (or give me my first kiss behind a bookshelf and a dandelion he found outside). I remember helping him in science when the formulas didn’t make sense or when he got tripped up on food webs. I remember cheering for him at Friday pep rallies when he would run out into the gym with his team, and later that night while I wore his jersey number at his game. I remember all of it. 

We stayed together for three years, Chris and I. His brothers and I hung out all the time. I became a regular at the Sturniolo house, dog-sitting Trevor on the off-chance that no one was home, spending weekends at the beach house, learning how to play Mario Kart from Justin, helping Mary Lou make dinner, Jimmy even taught me how to swing a golf club (or rather, he did his absolute best and demonstrated the patience of a saint–I didn’t learn shit, golf is hard).

I got my driver’s license a month and three days before Matt, which meant that for a month and two days, I held the illustrious title of Triplets + Nate’s chauffeur. An utterly thankless job, if you had asked me at the time, though now I would give anything to drive the boys around again. Chris broke up with me the day before Matt’s drivers test. I never found out if he did it then on purpose or not.

It took me a while to feel upset about it, if I’m being honest. We felt that we wanted different things in life, and that was all there was to it. I hugged him before I left class and he hugged me right back before we split down the hallway. The rest of that school year I was plagued from all sides about our relationship–”Why did you and Chris break up?”, “Did he cheat? Did you cheat?”, “What did he do to you?”, and the worst, “I bet you wanted one of his brothers instead.” Chris took a lot of heat for it as well and as a result, we stayed apart for a long time. 

We didn’t speak again until the summer before senior year. My life changed twelve times over between our last hug and the night he called me again. I’d had birthdays (my 18th was quite the event, my friends and I made friendship bracelets and stayed up until 2am), wonderful opportunities (substantial scholarships to our local college, all in my degree), terrible losses (I spent a week in a hospital for a rather severe injury), and had all but moved on. I felt like he made a mistake of some kind by dialing my cell–surely an accident on his part.

I sat in my room with a towel on my head and a bag of snacks in my lap. “No one told you life was gonna be this wayyy…” I hummed, crunching on a pretzel. “Oh my god, moisturizer.” I shoved the bag aside and reached for my bottle of lotion–I should have done this an hour ago. Spreading the sweet-smelling cream over my leg, I didn’t hear the buzz of my phone the first time. I didn’t even hear it the second time. It wasn’t until Joey Tribbiani plopped himself onto the couch in Central Perk on the TV and I opened the bottle cap over my shoulder that the vibrating device touched my skin and I must have cleared three feet of air between myself and the mattress. Lotion went flying, my remote fell into the abyss, my hair tumbled out of its now-disheveled towel, and I sat panting, poised to strike, staring at the screen.

Incoming call from: Christopher Sturniolo

Why? What does he want? I didn’t move as his name scrolled slowly across the top of my phone. If I let it go to voicemail, maybe he wouldn’t call back, and it would just be an accident. My phone ceased its’ buzzing and I picked it up with shaking hands, pausing my TV. Another vibration–a voicemail. Tapping on the notification, I held it up to my ear and Chris’s voice flowed over me.

“Hey…I’m sorry to call like this, I know it’s late but, um…can we talk?” He paused, his breath crackling through time and space and the 3.7 miles that lay between our houses. “I didn’t know who else to call. You don’t have to respond, if you don’t want to. Yeah. Bye.”

I set my phone on my thigh.

Don’t do it.

I stared blankly at the wall.

You don’t need this right now.

I looked down, clicked the telephone icon, raised the phone to my ear, and clutched my fist into the blanket.

Son of a bitch.

It rang all of twice.

Click.

“...Hi.”

My breath shook. “Hey, Chris.”

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags:

@pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld 

[loupy-mongoose]

Another writing that got long, so putting a Read More~

I wish I could've continued this interaction as a comic, but I ran out of energy. Life got busy, my mood fluctuated. So this one's written. X3

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

~~~~~~

Lavender woke in her bed with a gasp. She sat up, gulping air as the dream vision invaded her waking mind.

It wasn't real... It was just a vision... It wouldn't have hurt you, Lav. It wouldn't have hurt you...

As she calmed down, her attention shifted to something else.

She reached out with her mind.

...Nico?...

Nothing.

Lav's face scrunched up in anger. Dang it...

She flopped back onto her pillow, her arms sprawled out beside her. Here eyes were shut tight. Rrrrrrgh... Sorry, Nico, I didn't mean to wake up!

Something tickled her attention in her mind, but she didn't dwell on it.

Curse the flimsiness of our connection!

This time, she couldn't ignore it.

.a...v..nder?...

Lav froze, listening intently and focusing with all her might.

...Nico?

...u.. s....ll ..ear m....?

Lav smiled and mentally shouted as strongly as she could, careful to not connect with her family's mindscapes. I hear you, Nico! I hear you! Can you hear me?!

Lav? Lav!? I heard you!

Yes! Lav clenched her fists in her spike of joy. YES! Finally! We can talk without the worry of it collapsing at the slightest breath!

I'm... Kinda surprised you still want to talk... I'm sorry about the visions. I got carried away...

No, no, it's fine! It just startled me!

...It seemed like a strong reaction for just a startle...

I'm fine, honest! Lav tried to ignore that he was right. Anyway, that’s not the end of the story, right? You said you didn’t feel guilty then… But you clearly regret what happened.

...I do... His voice was subdued. Yes. I now regret what happened. But... Back then, I was truly the monster they wanted me to be. I was their good little weapon, until I decided they didn't see me as an equal.

After I d... d-destroyed the lab... I roamed Kanto. I challenged people and Pokemon alike... I attacked them... I...

His mental voice broke.

I killed them...

Both Lav and Nico fell silent. Lav could tell she was getting more adept at this connection thing, as she faintly felt that they were still linked.

What changed?

You said Fuji taught you gentleness and kindness, but you still... She shivered, hoping that he couldn't sense her apprehension. What made you change your mind from "monster" to regretful?

...Jovie.

Lav couldn't help smiling at the pure warmth in his mental voice. Your mate?

He spoke with a wistful tone. If Fuji planted the seeds, Jovie watered and nurtured them.

I, uh....

I stumbled into her home town. A little hidden place called Shadegrove. I... I attacked... And she defended.

Looking back... she was amazing.

So brave, and strong. Determined to save the town and people she loved.

And she succeeded.

I couldn't overpower her, so I left. Exhausted. Embarrassed.

And Furious.

First my parent, then this...

Lav felt a jolt.

I figured Mews wanted nothing to do with the Monster they had created.

Woah woah woah, wait! Your parent? Did you know your parent?

...

I saw them leave. Before I left my incubation tube.

Incubation tube? Lav took a mental note of the strange phrase.

I'm sure of it... It's my earliest memory.

A Mew's tail vanishing into the distance... Either my parent, or a Mew who knew me...

It abandoned me.

And after Jovie attacked me, I thought... I thought it was me. Mews hated me.

But I was wrong.

She followed me.

And I would be dead now if she hadn't

She found me after a challenge I'd made went wrong, and healed me up. And she did the unthinkable.

She was kind to me.

She worked to get to know me.

She cared about me.

And I found myself returning those feelings.

She made me laugh.

She made me care.

She made me happy.

And eventually... we fell in love.

That's... pretty much all the important stuff...

Lav sat quiet, contemplating the rest of the story she'd heard. Is that how you got that scar?

...Yeah...

You ever hear about Zapdos?

She felt her heart skip a beat, remembering stories her dad had read to her of the powerful electric-type legendary bird. ...Wow...

Yup.

They both went quiet.

Nico...

Lav's mental voice was soft.

Thank you. Seriously. For being brave enough to share that with me.

Wou... Would you be okay with me telling it to my dad?

Nico was silent. Lav could almost feel the buzz of his mind as he contemplated. Finally, he spoke up.

If you think it'll help. I... I worry it won't, but... You know him better than I do.

Do what you think is best, Lav.

Lav tried to form the question; Why are you afraid of him? But a yawn broke her concentration. She looked at the time.

Shoot. I should go back to sleep, or I'll be hurting tomorrow. Catch ya later?

If you want to!

Yeah! She smiled. Good night, Nico!

Good night, Lav.

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

[eroguron0nsense]

Doflamingo, Love, and Arrested Development

This is mostly just me paraphrasing other Doffy metas and comments I've made but I kinda feel like the real tragedy behind Doflamingo's warped psychology kind of gets missed by people who focus more on his trauma in and of itself and get lost in discourses about having sympathy for characters despite their complete lack of morality and disregard for everyone (perfectly possible), or whether Doflamingo has any redeeming characteristics or genuine concern for anyone or anything outside of himself (he doesn't).

Doffy's story is fundamentally a tragedy, but not because of his childhood traumas or how drastic and painful they are; plenty of One Piece characters experience severe abuses or incomprehensible loss, but they're ultimately stories of how to find hope in the face of the incomprehensibly traumatic, or the salvation/redemptive power of love. Even characters who don't necessarily see their goals fulfilled (see Fisher Tiger, Pedro, Ashura Doji, EGGHEAD SPOILERS etc) aren't fundamentally tragic ones in the way that, say, Ace is, in that they die having fulfilled their goals to the best of their ability and knowing that people will carry on where they left off, even if they don't get to see the liberation they hoped for. Rosinante's story isn't a tragedy because he dies satisfied that he's given hope to someone he loves deeply (and to some extent tried to make amends for some of the guilt he clearly feels for participating in an institution that ruined that child's life).

Doffy, on the other hand, is a never-ending downward spiral from day 1. He was indoctrinated by evil people from birth and never has it addressed (his parents, for all their talk about living more simply than the Celestial Dragons, NEVER actually say "slavery is bad" to Doffy when he asks them why they don't own people any more and I have my own theory on why), who then suffers unbelievable trauma and has his sense of loss–both of his "birthright" and his innocence/ childhood–weaponized for evil. And he spends the rest of his life in this semi-permanent state of arrested development and violent entitlement. He can't have the station and privilege of the Celestial Dragons to... own slaves and live in luxury, so he builds a kingdom where HE reigns supreme and everyone who crosses him is killed or enslaved as a toy. His mother dies and he kills his father, so he assembles a cult-like "family" to try and compensate for the one he's lost/destroyed, but he doesn't and likely doesn't know how to love them in any meaningful way beyond being possessive of them and seeing them as extensions of himself (e.g. he's willing to kill anyone who makes fun of Pica because no one's allowed to antagonize his "family", but he also orders Monet to do a suicide bombing in Punk Hazard, and he's willing to sacrifice one of them for the eternal life surgery, etc). I think that might be why, even though he should know Corazon has every reason to hate and fear him, he's still so eager to take his brother in when they reunite as adults–he shouldn't trust him, and he eventually comes to suspect him of treason, but he's desperate to have a family and Corazon is emblematic of something he wants but can never have because he's a cruel stunted person who knows nothing but entitlement and violence and cannot process the idea that anything has value or merits selflessness and sacrifice.

Everything Doflamingo does is defined by trying to replace or compensate for the family and privilege he was "supposed" to have, but he doesn't love anyone or even understand how real love works because he's been taught to have no regard for human life and all he knows is that love = absolute servitude, that his interests are ultimately more important than the wellbeing of his "family" members, and that betrayal means death. And far be it from me to sympathize with a fallen aristocrat's deranged revenge power fantasies, but it does demonstrate how oppressive institutions inevitably deprive their own beneficiaries of some of their humanity, and consequently fuck them for life. Doffy craves genuine affection and has had his capacity for it permanently stunted by his former class station and indoctrination.

This craving for love combined with an inability to actually feel it in any meaningful way factors into why he's so obsessed with Law, who he kept hardcore projecting onto in the flashbacks and who he expected to turn out just like him. His brother chose Law over Doflamingo and even his undercover mission out of love, and for all his traumas and hangups, Law can find his own crew and friends who he cares about, and he's able to live on and find meaning even after losing EVERYTHING because Corazon genuinely loved him enough to die protecting him. Doffy, on the other hand, is doomed to a loveless, misanthropic, cruel existence where he tortures countless people to compensate, but he can't replace what he's lost and he'll never find it. It's not what Corazon would have wanted, but Law fighting for and honouring Corazon's memory in everything he does enrages Doffy, who will never be able to understand why they cared for each other so deeply, and why both of them are integral to his downfall.

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 9

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8

A/n ! :

sorry i'm late ! i was waiting for the 1.3 update to see if there was anything wrong with the content i already had in the story. But it seems like everything i wrote is still ambiguous and according to the main story, so i dont have to change much !! yipee !! anyways, did you guys pull for dan heng ? tell me how it went !

Taglist ! :-

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate

Once…there was a legend. Of the clan that inherited the will of an Aeon, Long the Permanence. This clan was bestowed with the gift of immortality, being able to spend hundreds of years roaming this world.

This legend…revolves around two beings that directly inherited this will. The will of the heart of the dragon. Those who have successfully inherited this will through trials and challenges will be bestowed with power that overleaps its bounds of regular limits.

Born from different eggs, yet inherit the same heart, was two siblings. Similar to each other, yet so different from the other. A fierce and stoic brother, and a kind and gentle sister. One inherited the might of the seas, and the other inherited the wisdom of the remedies.

Once this shy but sociable sister desired to find company. So her confident but reserved brother brought her and introduced her to a group outside the walls of her confines.

With the arrogant heart that she managed to pure, she followed through with eyes of a child, and a heart yearning for more. A heart that showed nothing but kindness, until the blacksmith taught the princess the meaning of love.

But siblings don't go too far from each other. Sooner rather than later, even the brother began to favor his heart towards the short-lived species. The heart that was in his sister began to resonate as greed and jealousy plagued his soul.

He would fight, even if it meant going behind his dear sister's back.

With greed…all three of them fell into ruin. Even the homeland they so desperately tried to protect…

The dragon went missing, the princess lay in rest, the blacksmith was cursed and the prince's kin was exiled.

"This is a legendary tale told amongst the Vidyadhara children," said the nurse to her charge. The young doctor sighed and pouted, a cute frown on her lips, a rosy blush on her cheeks.

"Why are there only tales of woe wove from the history of dust ?" the next high elder asked, looking up from her many books, setting down her brush that was dipped in black ink.

"Because in the end, we can only remember the memories that impacted us the most, Lady Bailu."

Bailu huffed, and crossed over her arms before looking up at the ceiling that housed her in her little 'cage'. The tail behind her whipped in annoyance, the shackle binding it making it heavy.

"I wonder what happened to them after the story ended..."

It happened all in a blink of an eye. In one moment, she had knocked down one of the Mara-struck soldiers. She was about to hand her gourd to one of the healers to apply to the fallen star when the other plagued ones had rose to their feet, about to attack her.

The trailblazers (Y/n) had recognized from Jing Yuan's hologram meeting were there too, watching from the sidelines as they stiffened, grabbing their weapons as they were about to step in to assist. The grey haired star traveler with her bat, the pink haired girl with her bow, and the man with the power of the imaginary.

But before they managed to step in, a cool icy breeze pushed past them, small thin petals of ice drifting in the wind from behind them. The wind began to pick up, all of a sudden from out of nowhere. All visions blurred for a slight moment as the icy winds shut their eyes.

A determined thump of a heal resounded in the little dragon's ears, as her eyes were blinded with the sudden hurricane.

"Freeze within the confines of beauty and purity," a cold yet warm voice whispered through the mist.

As eyes opened again, the mara struck soldiers were stuck in lotus like cages, cold air being stuck in their confines, freezing them to the core. The abominations thrashed in there, but their movements were growing slower by the second.

But that wasn't all.

In front of Bailu, stood a tall woman, her (h/c) swaying around her as the winds died down, probably due to the extreme power this woman exerted just from her form.

"Are you alright ?!" a woman asked, standing proudly and protectively in front of the healers that were startled from the sudden confrontation.

This woman...the lady with silky (h/c) hair like the finest silk, woven from the freshest flowers. Eyes of (e/c) carved from the most brilliant precious stones in the universe. Skin so clear and soft, like a child that had just hatched from their egg. Blue horns that perched on her head, confirming her identity and status.

Bailu would be crazy not to recognize the woman before her.

"L-lady Dan--" Bailu cut herself short, knowing the information she had received earlier.

"Lady (Y/n), what are you doing here ?!" the young dragon girl asked.

(Y/n) looked behind her to immediately notice the horns perched atop of the girl's head, the tail swishing so eagerly behind her. She frowned, her eyebrows creasing for a moment. Her beautiful purple tail...was shackled. For what reason...?

"Are you alright ?" (Y/n) asked, crouching down in front of the young heiress, hands on her arms as she looked into those troubled blue eyes. Once she had received a nod from the young girl, she turned to the Astral Expressers, her hands clutching her fan tightly.

"I...I'm alright ! M-my name is Bailu !" the little girl quickly introduced. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at the hastiness. Was this little girl...scared of her...?

"Give them a moment. You can knock them out cold once the ice lotus has froze them." (Y/n) said with a nod to the oldest of them, finding her instincts telling her that he was leading the two young women.

Soon after she was sure that the forsaken ones had froze from her powers, the ice petals of the lotus that caged them moved in a wilting way, releasing the abominations of their confines and disintegrating into fine mist. And the Nameless got to work.

"Thank you for your assistance, Lady..." the brunette-haired man asked, looking at the refined young dragon woman before him. He wasn't quite sure how to address the woman before him, but he was sure she was of high standing, based on her clothes, horns, air of elegance, show of power. And most of all...the way the young dragon lady addressed her as Lady.

"(Y/n). My name is (Y/n)." (Y/n) said with a nod, standing up to acknowledge the help. Bailu had went off with the other healers to assess the wounds and conditions of the Mara-struck soldiers, being knocked out cold for a while as Bailu gave them her elixir.

"Lady (Y/n). My name is Welt Yang," the brunette man introduced before gesturing to the other two women. "And this is March, and Stelle."

March beamed out a happy and bubbly 'Hello !" at the woman, and Stelle nodded in acknowledgment, commenting shortly about 'You have pretty horns. Are they real ?'. (Y/n) nodded softly, finding Stelle's question rather...humorous.

"Thanks for helping to stabilize the patients..." Bailu sighed as she turned around from the fallen mara-struck soldiers to meet the Trailblazers that had helped them.

"Your...'assertive sedations' techniques are quite effective." Bailu acknowledged with a small nod.

"Assertive sedation techniques...? Does she mean beating people up ?" March asked with a finger to her lips.

"However..." Bailu said, looking behind her, and then looking down to the ground. "These Cloud Knights were already sick, and now they're injured too. I've gotta bandage up their wounds, realign their bones...ugh, as if I didn't have enough already on my plate !"

Then (Y/n) turned to Bailu. "I could help you if you need. If I could just remember things right, I should be able to do it." she said with a nod, and Bailu gleamed in joy.

But before Bailu could express her gratitude, March cut in with a question, after inspecting the two horned beings before her, trying to connect the dots. "Where did you come from, little one ? Is your dad around ?"

Then March turned to (Y/n). "Do you know where her parents are ?"

Before (Y/n) could answer, Bailu chirped up, "I don't have a dad."

"Uh...what about your mom ?" "I don't have a mom either."

(Y/n) was so perplexed at the exchange, she couldn't even find it in her to laugh at how clueless and vague Bailu made the Vidyadhara situation to be.

Bailu sighed, looking at March then shaking her head in disappointment. "I get it, you think because I'm small I'm must be a runaway child."

"Welcome to the Xianzhou, my short-lived outsider friends, appearances can be deceiving here !" Bailu announced, her little hands on her hips. "The Vidyadhara race is self-reincarnating. No mum or dad required !"

"What she means is, as you can see here, we're not humans. We're a more draconic race known as the Vidyadhara. Our most significant features are our pointed ears, but for special cases like for myself and Miss Bailu here, we have horns and a tail." (Y/n) explained, crouching down and placing a hand on the small back of the little lady next to her.

"We don't have parents. Whenever we are gravely injured or our bodies no longer are able to sustain us, we return back to an egg for reincarnation process." (Y/n) patiently explained, using what knowledge she had from her 'past' life. Although it wasn't too hard to dig out since it was general knowledge instead of self-history.

"Yeah ! I've been studying the art of healing ever since I cast off my old shell ! You're looking at a recognized, practicing, dedicated doctor !" Bailu proudly said in front of the Trailblazers, and in front of (Y/n).

(Y/n) let out a soft chuckle, realizing why this child was a little hesitant with her in the beginning. This child wanted to show (Y/n) she was a capable person. For what reason ? Perhaps this abundance of energy would let it slip later.

"Belobog kids are making snowmen while children here are writing prescriptions..." March said, as she looked at Stelle. A frown pulled at her pretty lips, while her companion shook her head in response.

Bailu looked up at March, worry in her pretty sea eyes. "Things haven't been very peaceful on the Luofu recently. Make sure you don't--" "Go running around, right ?" March continued, a soft smile on her lips.

"Well your general gave us an errand, so I'm afraid we have to." March said, shaking her head.

As they continued to talk, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the constant pair of eyes that burned through her back. It seemed that there were some that are quite...dissatisfied with her presence here. She was sure that when Jing Yuan allowed her to roam the streets, he must've held an audience with the Six Charioteers, the Ten-Lords Commission and the Vidyadhara Preceptors.

So why is that maid in the back there looking all fidgety...?

(Y/n) turned around to leave the group (after learning how to exchange beacons with Bailu and the rest), and walked towards the maid that stood quite a ways behind them. She wasn't much of a person up for confrontation, but if matters called, she didn't mind putting people in their place, now so that she had regained some memories of her past identity.

"You." (Y/n) asked as she stood in front of that maid. This was the maid that looked quite dissatisfied with (Y/n) from the moment (Y/n) stepped close to Bailu.

This woman had pointed ears. Huh. So it must be Bailu's retainers, then. Such a heavy watch for a child that could barely even reach her waist. Had something happened once she had succumbed to her slumber ?

"I was hoping you'd never step close to Miss Bailu." the woman said, and it made (Y/n) raise her brow at this.

"And why is that ? Is she not the next High Elder ? Does she not have a say in what she should and should not do ?" (Y/n) asked, her hands holding onto the fan.

"Once you had woken up from your slumber, the Preceptors are threatening to remove Miss Bailu of her position. After your brother, Dan Feng threatened to ruin the High Elder Succession of the Luofu..."

"Hold on. Miss Bailu's draconic features is more than enough proof for her to be the High Elder, is it not ?" (Y/n) said, putting a thoughtful hand to her lips. Then she shook her head. "And if you're worried about the succession of the new High Elder, you mustn't worry. For as long as my brother does not return, I cannot be the High Elder, no matter how much power I behold."

"I would merely be...incomplete without him."

And suddenly, she felt as if her heart was beating loudly in her chest. Her eyes widened as she suddenly felt the loud thumping in her chest, pulling her somewhere. Somewhere...familiar.

Following her heart, she excused herself from the maid and went off. It felt as if something was pulling her heart, like a string pulling her along where she walked.

Past the citizens...through streets...and into the dark alleyway none would've dared walked into.

She was alone in the dark. She wondered not why did she follow her heart without thinking rationally. She clutched her fan tightly in one hand, though she was sure anyone in their right mind wouldn't want to venture into these silent and cold dark spaces. Not when there was the internal strife she was told about.

(Y/n) shook her head, pondering about why did her heart really bring her here. That was, until she felt strong arms wrap around her smaller form, her back colliding with a rock-hard surface, and a weight softly dropping itself onto her shoulder, breathing softly as the individual took in her scent of flowers and ice.

"Even though I didn't want to let you see me again..." a deep and cold voice resonated in her ear. Then soft lips pecked themselves on her shoulder.

"I just had to see you one last time..."

[howtofightwrite]

Sorry if this has been answered before. Would it be possible to have a character who learns how to use a sword skillfully in less than a few years (if taught by an expert)? If not, what are some alternatives for a protagonist who needs to learn swordfighting for plot reasons?

Yes, but...

So, this is a little harder to answer than it initially sounds, because there's a few extra things to consider.

I'm going to spitball this, but I suspect you could get someone up to speed with a sword in a few months, probably less than that, depending on how much time they spent training, and how seriously they committed to it.

The issue is, combat training isn't (usually) about getting to baseline proficiency, it's about being more effective than your opponent. So, if your character spent a couple years learning to fight with a sword, and they're taking on soldiers or other characters who didn't spent that much time training, or learning, they'll probably have an advantage. If they're training to go after an enemy swordmaster who spent decades matching wits and blades with their expert mentor, their skills not going to be sufficient. (Though, to be fair, if someone spent most of those two years in intense training, their skills would be pretty formidable.)

One exception here is that soldiers are often trained to proficiency, and nothing further. It doesn't mean they're not dangerous, and their ability to work together can quickly turn them into an insurmountable threat for your character, but, you're not going to be finding a lot of swordmasters mixed in with the rank and file infantry, even if they've spent longer training.

Combat experience is (generally) more valuable than training. So, if your character's been practicing to use their skills, but never been in a real fight, that's going to hamper them. Now, it's likely that their mentor would be fully aware of that, and those years of training should probably include some practical experience of some variety.

It's also likely that if your characters is engaged in intense training for that long, there may be other skills getting mixed in, to give them a better combat base. It's hard to say exactly what those skills would be, though depending on the setting it may include things like armor, or the use of alternative weapons such as daggers and cloaks. (I realize, we haven't talked about this in a moment, but a heavy cloak can be an extremely effective parrying tool when dueling, particularly against light blades like the epee or rapier. Once the blade is wrapped in a heavy fabric or leather, it can take a bit of effort to get it free again. It's not a huge detriment, but it will leave the sword's owner without the use of their weapon for a few critical moments, which is the perfect time to end them.)

Of course, if you're training a Zorro style pseudo-superhero, then things like acrobatics and (anachronistic) parkour are also options.

Depending on the era you're going for (particularly 17th and 18th century) do not overlook the effectiveness of opening a fight by pumping a musket ball into your opponent. Early, smooth-bore, pistols weren't particularly accurate at range, and were downright anemic in comparison to modern bullets, but it will still seriously mess up an unarmored fighter. Similarly, in a situation like that, your character would have to be pretty careful about not getting shot. It certainly doesn't invalidate the sword (that would come later with repeating firearms), but it will make their life a lot more perilous. (Read: interesting.)

So, could someone take a couple years to train with a sword? Yeah, absolutely, and if they committed to it, and had a good instructor, they could come out the other side of that with some fairly significant skills, and as a legitimate threat.

-Starke

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[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

Yor and Anya could both be of Royal Ancestry in Ostania. (Long Post Again, Sorry!)

It has a little connection to the first theory I’ve post about Yor being a subject of Project Apple. You can read it here.

Just some take I have on this scene on Chapter 4 (Because it always makes me wonder)

Notice how the three of them immediately caught Henderson’s attention just by walking? Like they haven’t done anything remarkable yet Henry said he could sense some elegance in them. It was only them that he pointed out. I can’t help but think about the reason why Henderson said this.

My take is that the three of them used to be part of elite and prestigious families.

Loid’s family in the West, in Luwen, seems to be well off judging by the way they dress, their home, and his father’s job seems to be important too.

But if it wasn’t the case, Loid can still be elegant because he strived to be perfect in everything he does. He was trained how to act elegantly in order to blend in with other people. But I stick by my theory that he came from a rich family from the West.

But being elegant wasn’t taught to Anya and Yor. It’s like for both of them, they had that tinge of elegance in their blood.

Then come through this theory about Anya being a part of monarch/royalty. If that theory is true then that must be the reason why Henderson saw something with Anya.

Then how about Yor? She also came from a prominent family. I’m going to make a wild guess that she’s also a monarch. A hidden monarch like my theory with Anya. 

I would like to consider her back story to be the same as Sleeping Beauty or Little Briar Rose since it is evident that this fairytale inspired most of Yor’s characters (The needle like weapon, her surname, the roses). So what if the royal family were the first ones that have these abilities? The first experiments, after the monarchy was taken down, are the remaining members of the monarch family.

But her parents took them and hid them faraway where no harm would ever come to them, just like how the fairies kept Aurora hidden in the forest, keeping the fact that she’s a princess/royal. But at the end of the day, despite them keeping her away from the spindle, the needle (being used because of her ability) she still ended up taking the bait in the end after they died (Like how Aurora still ended up getting pricked by spindle despite all her parents’/kingdom’s parents  effort to protect her).

Yor has been under a curse since then, like asleep and paralyzed, devoid of emotions. But then, came the prince who saved her life and made living worth it for her again (If she never married Loid, I really think she would just accept death in that cruise arc battle he had with that Katana guy).

Ah! just think if Loid’s real name has something with Philip, the same as Briar Rose/Aurora’s Prince’s name in the Disney movie! What if it’s also a surname like Yor BRIAR. Loid could be James (From 007 James Bond) and Philip, James Philip! Just imagine, it would be genius right? Loid’s name could be anything though, but I would totally flip it was that, just the parallel and the complement of his real name to Yor!

Anyway moving on….

If Yor is also a monarch like Anya then does that mean that she’s blood related to Anya? That is what I don’t have a theory about. Maybe if I have the time, I’ll reread the manga from the start again and find some details that can help me elaborate this theory or debunk it.

These are all speculations of mine that I wanted to share. Thoughts that I can’t help but think of regarding what could be Yor’s backstory because we know nothing besides her parents both died when they were kids and that was all.

I know these might be far-fetched and don't make sense and the story can’t be that complicated but hey, the possibility of these being canon is not zero.

[allmyocsarebritish]

Kiss, maime, kill - ch 1: the devil of delusion

Pairing: Alastor X killer! fem reader

Warnings!!!: Reader is a serial killer, convinced she is in the right, descriptions of murder, it goes without saying but I really don't condone this, Al's surname in this is Altruist cause it's even more ironic, but yes I know that's not canon

Word count: 1.1k

1927

Louisiana, New Orleans

You wouldn't consider yourself a crazed murderer. Murderer, yes, but crazed? Certainly not. Any and all lives you took were but a waste of space, and, as fucked up as your morals may have been, they were there, and that was all that mattered. You weren't an equal opportunity killer, there was always a means to an end, and, what started with clearing your once impoverished family's debt, became playing the hero in so many stories that one may believe you had grown some sort of bloodlust.

But you hadn't. You wouldn't.

That was what you told yourself as you wiped your bloodstained hands on your jacket, the ebony fabric clinging to your torso, drenched in the vital liquid. An adrenaline rush was only natural after such a heinous act, and revelling in the sinful delight was part of moralistic killing. Right?

*graphic content warning*

The corpse of your seventh victim was still bleeding from both the spinal chord and the liver; a painful death with no means of escape, though the man had long since taken his final breath. Experience had taught you a lot, from how to efficiently off those of which you targeted, to the best methods of disposal. Butcher's knife still clutched firmly in your hand, knuckles turning white with the tension, you began to hack at the joints and muscle connections, making for an effective burial.

Thankfully, this time you had thought ahead, and chased your prey into it's final destination before the hunt truly began. It made the cleaning process substantially more efficient. The small copse you had chosen as a final resting place for this man was carpeted in a thick layer of grass, something that would mask the grave. You took your shovel and began to dig.

Further, further, further. Deep was still too shallow. The thrill of the hunt ebbed away to a new kind of rush: not being caught. The familiar tingle engulfed you as your hands began to tremble and a sadistic smile etched its way onto your features. You continued digging.

Never one to recklessly abandon evidence, you shrugged off your jacket, used it to wipe down your knife, and dropped it in the tomb. A shame really, you had always favoured that one. Nevertheless, you began to fill the hole. 8ft or so, should you have had to hazard a guess. The strain on your muscles caused by the ruthless exercise was beginning to take a toll, and thus your pace slowed in covering your tracks. The exhaustion was rather overwhelming, albeit so much less than when you first started. Each kill became easier, and thus more enjoyable. Though of course, you still only committed these crimes for the good of your community. Right?

A gentle pat on the soil and you were finished; such a stark juxtaposition to the merciless way in which you took the life of the man below the Earth. That would teach him not to...

Well, you couldn't exactly remember what this one had done, but it didn't matter anyway. It had to have been bad enough to warrant death, you were sure of it.

Shovel and butcher's knife in hand, you made your way out of the copse, ducking behind trees in order to remain in the shadows - something that what was either to be the biggest mistake or blessing in your entire existence.

Your mind was filled with sadistic delight, as you twirled your weapon between your fingers, humming a gleeful tune. Pride coarsed through your veins, the adrenaline rush slowly wearing off. But it was okay; you could always kill again. There were plenty of bad people in the world. yourself included

SNAP

You whipped around, panic and thrill creating a pounding in your head. Nothing. Of course, you were in a forest: there was bound to be animals nearby. Still slightly shaken, and feeling more alive with each passing second, you continued on your way, albeit at a much faster pace.

SNAP

There it was again. Now you were convinced this was no animal. Footsteps were drawing nearer and nearer, shattering twigs and debris in their wake. The soft thudding rang sharp in your ears and sent the earth trembling beneath your feet. This was it; you had been caught.

SNAP

A final deep breath before you succumbed to your fate. You dropped the knife, and raised a palm, although keeping hold of the shovel with your dominant hand. Just in case. Turning around slowly, you weren't met with the sight of cops, nor police, nor any kind of law enforcement. No, instead you were met with a slender figure, clad in classy, dark attire, glasses perched on his delicate, upturned nose. His hair was sleek and brunette, shade deepened by the low light of nighttime. His heavy lidded eyes, framed with dark circles, held an aura of mystery and suspense, something that excited you and drew you in, locked in the gaze of this stranger. (This is so cliché I'm sorry)

"Are you some kind of detective?" Your voice was shakier than it should have been and you strengthened your grip on the shovel.

The stranger simply chuckled and couched down, picking up your knife and inspecting it closely. "Quite the opposite, my dear. In fact, I am one of you." His charismatic voice held a transatlantic accent, familiar to you for reasons you could not decipher.

"A killer?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A hunter." His smile grew, a sadistic gleam in his eyes reflected by the moonlight. He held out a hand to you, still gripping your knife with the other. "Alastor. A pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure."

"Y/N. Wait, Alastor? As in Alastor Altruist? The radio host?" That's where you knew him from. His voice was much smoother in person, without the overlay of static.

"The very fellow." His pride at your recognition was not remotely disguised.

"So, are you going to kill- uh, hunt me?" You stuttered awkwardly, cringing at your lack of social skills.

Alastor laughed again, truly a charming sound, despite the obvious malice it was masking. "Of course not, dearest! Where would the fun be in that? I want you to join me."

Your blood ran cold at his request, yet any fear or doubts that may have sprang in your mind was overshadowed by the thrill of adventure. Sadistic adventure.

"On what conditions?"

"What a cautious one you are! And rightfully so. I want to form a partnership."

"Why?" You were incredibly skeptical now; why the fuck did he want to ally with you?

"Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom!" He dragged his hands down his face in a dramatic manner, causing you to suppress a laugh. "So, my dear. Do we have a deal?"

You thrust your hand into his waiting palm.

"Deal."

Ty @passifaggressifnahjustaggressif for help with the banner

Part 2!

[satoru-is-the-way]

AVATAR 2 SPOILERS!

Avatar! Quaritch x Navi Reader

Given Enough

Series Master List (Way of Water)

Tag List: @the-wanderer-2022 @zootsutra @anyzandy   @kneelingforvillains @dioriez @mylovelyreblogs @dinobae-replyacc @voodoogoul @freshmoneyalmondathlete @thedumboneforsomereason @world-dominating-kitty @scarletpines @sofiebstar @vampire-hunter @cypherpt5fttaehyung @strangerdeeznuts

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT (LISTEN I will indicate when the smut starts so most of this chapter you can read but also when it ends. This chapter is a bit longer ish), Angst, depression, death, killing, and I'll add more later

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 - Seasons change

_6 Months Later_

The colonel has been living among the Kamimaljuyú people. He would all day with their beautiful princess (Y/n). She taught him their way of life. How they ride great bison, hunt, speak, and feel the world around them. Where their spiritual and holy places are yet for now he is not allowed to set foot inside of them until he is one of the people. They said good and bad spirits fight over his soul. Eywa has two paths for Quaritch but he must choose which path he will take. Over the 6 months, he found it difficult not to become attached to her. The woman who saved him and now teaches him how to survive. (Y/n) herself had fallen for the Avatar. They spent almost every moment together. Their bodies were close, the small glances stolen, jokes shared, yet she knew this love could not be. She was of the Navi and him the sky people. 

Right now the villagers have fallen asleep. Quaritch decided to take his ikran for a ride. He needed to think about all this. Jake Sully had been his only priority from the start. His whole plan evolved around deceiving the village, mating with the princess, and starting a war with the Metkayina just to kill the Sullivan family as Jake watched. He was just a few miles from the territories border when he saw lights flashing. His ears perk up recognizing the aircraft. “Faster.” He told the ikran. Once coming closer he made a hand gesture to land. Luckily General Ardome knew who he was. She could spot the difference between a Navi and Avatar with just one glance. Plus his tattoo obviously gave him away. They landed she walked out of the plane oxygen mask on. “It’s about damn time we found you. We had to let things settle before we tried to cross the sea again. Your tracker cut off not long after hitting the mountains… What the fucks happen to you?!” He asked noticing his changes. 

“I hit the jackpot, General. The Kamimaljuyú tribe heard of them right?”

“In books, they are mentioned but why? They are just an air clan in the moutains.”

“They are much more than a clan. Thousands live in the mountains. Plus they outnumber all the forest clans combined. The best part is I have the princess at arms reach. But I am not going to be another Jake Sully. In another 6 months, I will be one of them.” He held a sinister grin. 

“And then what is your big plan after the last one failed so much? We fought the natives before. Look at what that has gotten us.”

“Yes, I know. But if I...mate… with the princess… I will be forced to become the next clan leader. It means nothing to me but for them, it’s for a lifetime. I found something else. Their greatest weapon. Much like the Metkayian with the tulkun, they create a special bond with these giant bison creatures. If you give me enough time. I plan on luring one out, (Y/n)’s. Kill the beast, blame the Metkayian, and we start a war between them.”

“Let them destroy themselves. Enough time for us to come in and kill Jake Sully destroy their war hero and their spirit. In 6 months I should be able to gather enough supplies to make it seem the water tribe has done this. Colonel, we may just win the war.”

He nods, “They will never see it coming.” 

_6 Months Later_

It had come the time that he would be welcomed into the tribe as a true Kamimaljuyú. One year ago he was taken in by the princess and given a second chance…at revenge. He constantly fought the feeling of regret. He tried to deny his love but in the end, right now, he knew he messed up. That rage for Jake Sully blinded all other emotions. 

(Earlier that day) He knew Áramà trusted him thanks to Balam. He told the colonel how his sister constantly talked with her, about the feelings she had. What else is a brother for after all but causing mischief? He took his Pup and rode up to find Áramà.

“Hola, yaakunaj.” (Hey, love.) He smiled as she licked his face. Could he truly do this?... Yes, he had to for his honor. “Tin wu'uyaj ka' le ch'a cháako' ka ts'o'ok u planeado jump'éel náachil yaabilajech ti' (Y/n) yéetel Teene'.In chan bix ken u ya'al Nib óolal.” (Listen after the ceremony I had planned a special trip for (Y/N) and me. My little way of saying thank you.) He gently pets the bison. “Go out past the border you know the first little island, Cayoà?... Yes I know it’s far from here but listen. It’s special I know how she feels…I want to just express my love. You trust me right?” The bison huffed before nuzzling his body before taking off. “See you soon.” He waved goodbye to his friend that had fallen right into his trap. His consciousness told him to stop  Áramà. Inez said good and bad spirits battle for his heart after all…right now the bad ones spoke a little louder

(present)(Y/n) is now allowed to take him to their Kili'ich Che' or in English their ‘Holy Tree’ where he can bond with Eywa. The female smiled as they held hands climbing up the largest mountain top. There is a naturally flat area where the trees around it have caved in to create a protective barrier. Inside rests the tree which glows with the great spirit.

“I finally made it didnt I, princess?”

“Yes, you did.” Her smile is so bright and loving. “Now here take your queue and place it here.” She showed him. Quaritch repeats her instructions closing his eyes. He could hear the ancestors. Surely this could not be real. Perhaps it was a plant that they used to hallucinate. He tried anything to deny the fact he had fallen in love with her and this village. “They live in Eywa…and one day so will we.” She pulled back her queue, ears going down. “Now you may choose a woman.” The colonel looked away. 

“Anyone?”

“Yes, we have many fine women who long to be your mate.”

“There is a line isnt there?” He chuckled. “But the woman I want…I am unsure if she feels the same about me.” 

(Y/n) looked up at him, “Ask her how she feels. The woman would be a fool to turn you away.” She spat more angrily at the woman he had eyes on, not understanding it was her. 

“Yeah, I should ask her…” He took a step closer taking her by surprise. Rick wrapped an arm around her waist bringing the Navi woman closer. “(Y/n) (L/n) do you love me?” He whispers. She nods. 

“I do…” Before anything else could be spoken he leans in and kissed her deeply. 

(SMUT STARTS HERE SKIP THIS PART but after the story will continue.)

(Y/n) moans softly, feeling Quaritch's hands run down her body pressing her against the tree. He kissed up her neck pressing his already hardened cock against (Y/n)'s womanhood. A soft gasp escaped her lips. "Your queue." The Navi woman whispers. Rick paused, revealing his queue and exposing the delicate nerves that protrude out. His golden eyes soften knowing here is what he worked for. This entire year of becoming one of them. Just to mate with the princess. Yet he never planned to fall in love. Not this way. "Once we connect them… we are mated for life." 

Their eyes watched as the queues connect. Rick inhaled deeply and closed his eyes feeling pure bliss. It was not just a sexual feeling but a spiritual connection. He felt her, knew her, was hers forever now. (Y/n) opened her eyes, pressing her forehead to his. "I see you."

"I see you." He whispered before moving on top of her. Removing their garments, Quaritch lines himself up to her entrance. "I'll be gentle." He whispered pushing into her. The female arched whimpering. Normally during sexual encounters, he only cared about getting himself off and getting it over with. Now with (Y/n), it was different. He cared for her. Rick wants her to feel him, to see him. 

"Rick~ Move. I can take it." (E/c) orbs looked into his. He nods, pulling back then thrusts towards. His blue ears went back in pleasure. 

"Fuck (Y/n)~" He groaned picking up speed with each thrust. (Y/n) moaned loudly, rolling her hips. "I love you~"

"I love you t-too" He pants.

(END OF SMUT)

The remaining night was bliss. Now they have mated for life and become one. Their bodies tangled together underneath the holy tree. He could not sleep fully. Regret filled his soul. Áramà would soon be dead. War started all for revenge. Quaritch finally settled enough to get some rest. (Y/n) had a horrible dream. Her companion, her best friend, is being trapped, and hunted, by someone she did not know. A sudden pain fills her chest. (Y/n) opened her eyes sitting up gasping for air tears pouring down her face. "What's wrong?!" Rick asked. 

"Áramà she is endanger. HURRY we have to go alert the village!" She yelled and Quaritch helped her up. The Navi and Avatar ran back to their Ikran flying as fast as their banshees could take them. 

"MOTHER FATHER! HURRY OUR FAMILY IS ENDANGERED! ÁRAMÀ NEEDS HELP!" She yelled, landing on a nearby tree. 

Her father sat up instantly but noticed something different. "You…You two…Did you mate with my daughter?!" Cualli yells. 

"We mated before Eywa. Nothing can be done now, father. But we have to talk about this later. Àramà needs us!" Her father sighed before signaling for the troops to get prepared. 

Quaritch felt his heart pounding. "Come on. You can ride with me." He grabbed her hand and called for Pup. The mates jumped on the Bison. (Y/n) felt where Áramà is told by Quaritch how to guide Pup. She knew something is terribly wrong with her spirit animal. She felt that connection between them slowly fade, which only meant one thing. 

The tribe soon close in on the bison's location. (Y/n) began to cry out seeing her friend laying on her side in the water. Quaritch closed his eyes holding onto (Y/n) hearing screams of sorrow. "ÁRAMÀ!" She cried jumping down and falling next to her bison. "NO! NO EYWA PLEASE GREAT MOTHER NO!" She begged softly combing the bison's wet fur. "Much ma' p'atko'on. Teech ka k'áat óoltik Eywa Cha' in p'áatal yéetel leti'.Mix juntéen in suut dudar ti' teechi'... Béet." (Please do not leave me. I beg you Eywa let me keep her. I will never doubt you again...Please). She begged Eywa feeling her companion take a few more deep breaths before death. The connection is no longer there. (Y/n) looked at Quaritch ears flattened and eyes red from crying. He too held tears in his eyes. Why did he do this? All for revenge. It's too late… "Rick…S-she…she." Her voice quivers. Quaritch walked up to the bison placing his large hand against her chest. 

"In akaljantik. Leti' ku ts'o'ok u biin." (I'm sorry. She is gone.) He whispered. 

"Lok.(Look)" Balam said picking up a spear. He wondered how could a bison be taken down so quickly. Especially by another tribe. That is not their way of life. "Here." He handed it to his father. 

The elder brushed his tears away growling at the object. "The water clan." He whispered. He knew this belonged to the Metkayina. Tonowari had been his friend for decades. Why did he do this? Quaritch felt ready to faint. How could he have done this? That is when he noticed (Y/n) had stopped crying, her face down, not moving, or making a sound.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered. She slowly lifted her head with a look that can kill anyone. The emotion he had wanted the most. The one way he would be able to lead the Kamimaljuyú and Metkayian to war. Revenge. 

“I am going to slaughter their entire clan” She whispered.

“Now (Y/n) let's think about this.”

“WHY RICK?! Look what they did! As my mate, you should support me -”

“I do!”

“Then will you fight by my side?”

“...Yes…”

“Túun k ti' k'atun” (Then we are at war.) She snarled as the other villagers yelled cries of war. Quaritch sighed deeply. ‘Eywa what have I done?’

Chapter 4

[fandomz-brainrot]

Far From Home... (Five Hargreeves x Male Reader)

“Where are we?”

Prompt by @soprompt <3

Five Hargreeves x male reader

Tw: gang violence, guns, death, brief drug mention

---

You and Five have been friends for a while now. You met after one of the Umbrella's missions; resolving a gang shootout. A bit dark and extreme, as they usually deal with the simple bank robbers and the like, but oh well. They were growing older, around the age of 12 by now, so Reginald must deem them mature and skilled enough to handle a task such as this.

You were in the midst of this shootout, and a bit older than the Umbrella's at 14-- a one and a half year difference to be exact. Your family had been mixed up with crime for as long as you could remember. Your brother would end up becoming Klaus's plug in the future, a sign of solidarity between a small section of your family and the Academy. They did save your asses during the infamous shootout after all.

Speaking of the shootout, that was a thing that was happening. You had been taught how to wield a small pistol since a young age, and it was now your weapon of choice-- tiny yet effective. Or, it would be effective, if the rival gang member hadn't knocked it out of your hands. So it was safe to say that you were utterly screwed.

You couldn't even remember what the reasoning for the gang shootout was-- drug money, perhaps? A murder of a member? Who knows, if you wanted to survive out here you had to fight for your gang. So it was now fists or nothi-- OH SHIT.

You felt a boot roughly kick the back of your knees, causing them to buckle beneath you. You fell to the ground, scraping your palms as you caught yourself. The bullets were still being shot around you, and they were quite honestly giving you a migraine. Especially now that you had been injured.

A hand roughly grabs you by your hair and yanks you to an upright kneeling position. You felt the barrel of a firearm press against your temple as the person behind you held your wrists behind your back. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your composure.

"You're the leader's son, right? I don't want to shoot you kid, so just tell me where the goddamn money is!" he yelled in your ear, pressing the gun harder against your head. Giving the answer would surely mean death by your gang, staying silent would mean death from the rivals. It was really a lose-lose situation.

So, you clenched your jaw and stared ahead. If you were going to die, you weren't going to be a little bitch about it. It was just the way these things were.

The man sighed angrily. "I'll give you one last chance boy, just tell me wh-" you didn't hear the last of his words because all you could feel was the lack of cold metal against you. You took this as an opportunity to headbutt the dude in the face. He groaned, letting go of you to hold his now bleeding nose.

You wasted no time grabbing your pistol from the ground and slamming the butt of it on the back of the guy's head. There was a small crack-- probably a fracture, hopefully nothing more than that. As long as he was out cold.

But where did his gun even go? You looked around, until you spotted it in the hands of a boy a bit younger than you. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape and grinning. He seemed very impressed with your movements.

You recognized him as an Umbrella kid-- that prissy little uniform and mask being a dead giveaway. You didn't know which one. And he was standing a considerable ways away, so how did he even get that from him-- HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE BLUE LIGHT AND WHY IS HE NOW NEXT TO YOU-

"Nice moves, for a civilian." He said, now standing less than a foot away from you. He decided to stay with you for the time being. His siblings could handle it, the action was already dying down, and this would be a lot more interesting. Plus, once he was trained enough, he would be out of this shithole...

You looked at the gun in his hand, eyebrow raised. "How did you...?" If his eyes weren't obscured by the mask, you're sure he would've rolled them. You felt the metal of your gun leave your hand. It reappeared in the boy's, accompanied by what looked like some sort of blue energy and a small woosh type of noise.

"Are you... not familiar with us? With me? That's... literally my whole thing." he said, the same blue energy surging as he reappeared next to you. He kicked the unconscious man who had you at gunpoint moments earlier to the side, leaning on the wall behind you two.

"Um.. I've heard of you. Didn't know the specifics." you said shortly, your eyes slightly wide as you scooted away. "You guys are... strange." you said your words carefully. The boy huffed angrily, crossing his arms as he rested his foot against the wall. "Yeah, well, we just saved your ass, so..." he said pointedly, pushing himself off the wall. He started to leave, so you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"And I'm um... that was like... cool of you... so... thanks..?" you said hesitantly. You've never had to thank anyone before. You really didn't like it. He huffed, starting to walk away again.

"Wait!" he paused again, growling in frustration. "What, what do you want?" he said grumpily. "Can I see you again... um..." "Five"

"Um... what?"

"Five. My name. It's Five. Five Hargreeves."

You chuckle under your breath. "Your name is... Five? Like the number?"

"...yeah."

You instantly feel bad. "Wait, no, that was a dick move, I'm sor-"

"Yeah, I'll see you againnn..." He dragged out the last word so you could tell him your name.

"(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."

"Well then I'll see you around, (Y/n) (L/n)."

"Yeah, see ya, Five Hargreeves."

He tensed his body as if to teleport, but stopped. "Get your side of the gang out of here quick. Police will be here in 10 minutes, give or take. I'll convince my siblings to cut you guys some slack."

And with that, he teleported out of there in a flash of blue, leaving you in awe.

It took you a second to realize what he said, and you hauled ass to get you and your people out of there.

---

Five kept his word. The next day you woke up to Five sitting on the windowsill of your shitty apartment, knocking on the window casually. That's how most days would go; him sneaking over to visit you and teleporting on to your windowsill or you sneaking off to the Hargreeve's mansion. Five would meet you outside and teleport you in, and your name became familiar to the other Umbrellas.

Whenever your home life would get too much to handle, you'd go over to the mansion. If it was Five's training day, someone else would look after you. You and Klaus would do each other's nails. You would teach Diego your combat skills and help him with his stutter. Luther would try to bench-press you. You and Allison would put on little fashion shows together. You'd sneak some comics over that you stole for Ben to read, so you guys could talk about them together. And you'd listen to Viktor play his violin.

The Hargreeve's children and even Grace, who kept your visits a secret from Reginald, had become more of a family to you than your own. Except for your older brother, Aidan, he was your best friend. He even accompanied you sometimes, and got close to Klaus.

But, as nice as all the other Umbrellas were, you would always have a soft spot for Five. You enjoyed annoying the prickly pre-teen, but also got to see a hint of his soft side. You were the only person who seemed to actually enjoy his company. You'd bring him coffee, which quickly became his favorite thing to ever exist. He would teach you basic skills; you had never enrolled in school because of your gang background, so he taught you how to read and write. Eventually, when you could read well, you two would read books together. Or he would just read to you and let you listen. Either was fine with you.

You were very childish by nature, since you had been forced to grow up quickly. Around Five you could just let loose. And that childishness complimented his uptight nature perfectly, allowing his hard edges to soften for a few moments.

You two were best friends. So, when Five told you his plan go in to the future, you offered to go with him without hesitation. You didn't have much to lose besides Aidan, so you didn't see the harm in it. You would follow Five to the ends of the Earth if you had to.

So, when Five knocked on your windowsill and told you that it was time, you eagerly followed him. You put the prewritten note you had ready next to Aidan's bed left with Five. And what a mistake that was.

You had a hand on Five's shoulder as you two travelled through time. Months, at first. You two grinned at each other as you watched the seasons change before your eyes. It was beautiful.

Then, you were met with the rubble of the world you had once known. Your hand fell from Five's shoulder, your eyes widening in shock and disbelief.

"Um... Five?" your voice was strained as you tried to remain calm.

“Where are we?”

Five didn't meet your eyes. He stared at ruined world around him, bits of soot and ash sticking to his face. "The... the future, but- no this... this can't be right..." he muttered nervously, his eyes knitted together in confusion and disbelief. He began to walk around, looking for any clues or signs of life. You followed him, slowly looking around.

All of a sudden he froze in his tracks. You followed his gaze, your breath hitching at what you saw. It was what must have been the corpses of all of Five's siblings. All of your friends.

Your brunette companion's eyes glazed with tears as he stared blankly. "N-no... this... no, this isn't right..." he muttered shakily. He let out a dry chuckle, his trembling hands tangling in his hair. He tugged at it, staring at the corpses in front of him. "This... This can't be what the future is..." He whispers to himself.

You go to comfort him when something catches your eye; a newspaper. You pick it up, reading the date before walking back over to Five. You place a hand on his face, tilting it to look at you. "Hey- this is the day it all went to shit. If we can get back... maybe we can get all of your siblings, and stop this from ever happening. You're like.. a genius, I'm sure you can figure out how to get back. And I'll help however I can, alright?" you reasoned.

He took a deep inhale from his nose, breathing out through his mouth. He blinked rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes, and grounded himself. He stared back in to your eyes. "Alright... we'll... we can prevent this." he said, mainly trying to convince himself.

You smiled at him, beckoning him to follow you as you walked away. "Come on-- lets try and find some supplies." you said, holding your head up high. "And plus, you still have me, right?"

You feel his hand brush against yours. He smirks slightly, trying to look confident as he walks beside you. "Yeah. And I know you'll still be a pain in my ass, even during the fucking apocalypse." he said sarcastically, but his smile never left his face.

"Awww, you know you love me!"

He pauses, a light blush dusting his cheeks as his smile widens. "Yeah. I do love you." he says, his words sounding clear and sure.

You smile widely, taking his hand in your own and interlocking your fingers. "And I love you too."

(2041 words)