#(but it's almost impossible to look at completely on its own given its place in this long chain of things vaguely inspired by each other)

[hellspawnmotel]

a black spot on the sun

[forever--darling]

snga’itseng — just the beginning | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: you are given an avatar for your birthday and end up lost and alone in the woods. the sully children bring you to the village where neytiri agrees to let you stay under one condition, you learn the omatikaya ways from her oldest son.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 15.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, enemies to lovers, lo'ak x avatar!reader (slightly), mention of sky people, mention of death, perfect soldier!neteyam, protective mother neytiri

series masterlist | one of us: part one |requests are currently open for now

“When we sent the sky people back to Earth, a few of them stayed. Science guys loyal to the Na’vi. They kept to themselves away from the village to keep from causing panic to those that were left by the destruction the sky people left behind.  Somehow though they reproduced any way and then there was Y/N, only a few months younger than our own son, Neteyam. From day one there was something about her, a connection to Pandora, unlike anyone I had ever seen. She studied what Grace had left behind and grew up asking any question she could about our world and the Omatikaya people. But she refrained from ever having direct contact with them, as she was and always would be one of the sky people. Isolated from the only world she ever knew, she stayed away to keep the rest of the Omatikaya clan at peace. 

Then there was Spider. He was just as stuck here as Y/N was. Both were too young to be born in a place this dangerous and completely ethereal. He, unlike the slightly older girl, took to the forest, to the Omatikaya village, experiencing anything and everything he could. No one liked having him around at first, but as years passed, people became understanding and let him come and go freely. His presence, however, near what was once Home Tree and the village, didn’t stop the Omatikaya children from running off towards the old link base to find the human girl who had fallen irrevocably in love with the world she was born into. And when I mean the Omatikaya children I mean my own.”

The Na’vi say that every person is born twice. The second time is when they earn their place among the people. That was something you had learned based on the data Dr. Grace Augustine had left behind. Through the numerous journals and video logs, she kept, as well as the raw footage taken from the school that once was open to the Na’vi children for learning English. One attempt at bridging a communication divide. The scientist was completely wonderful that way, in love with the Omatikaya people and the planet of Pandora. It was more of her home than her birth planet ever had been. You never got to meet her of course. A casualty in the war against the sky people eighteen years ago. A war you never witnessed but were born into. A part of a species that was concerned with mining for Unobtainium, the answer to the economic struggles of its homeland, and destroying the village’s home to do that. 

Omatikaya are pure at heart, you’re convinced, pure spirits looking to feel and have a complete connection with their world. It’s something you wished for more than anything you could feel. Something as simple as the ability to smell the fresh air or feel it on your face without an oxygen mask keeping you alive. The avatar was no longer alive and not even Ubobtainum could get that up and running again. Grace Augustine was the primary scientist behind the program that made the impossible possible — for humans to be able to walk around freely without the possibility of suffocation from the particles in the air. How?

Well, large blue bodies resembling those of the Na’vi that ultimately served as vessels. Vessels to experience life somewhat like one of the Omatikaya did. Without the money, there aren’t enough resources or scientists to keep the program running let alone create any more avatars or dream walkers, as the Omatikaya call them. The last became the great Toruk Makto and the Olo’eyktan or chief of the Omatikaya. The story is almost a legend. A legend you knew would never repeat itself. So, thus oxygen masks were the only way of survival outside of the compaction-sealed rooms left behind after the war. Living a normal life was not an option at least not for mouth breathers from a dying planet. 

Except you never felt like you could be considered one of those, a human of Earth as you weren’t from there, not really. Sure by association but you didn’t have any connection to that world and you never would. You were born on Pandora almost eighteen years ago and somehow after the abandonment of your parents, you’re paying the price. A beautiful death trap is what you called the planet as it was the most breathtaking place you had ever been in. Something you had been studying and realizing for years as that was all you were allowed to do. Take samples and study the planet and the species that occupied it. 

In addition to learning from the scientists of the past that had the ability to speak to the natives and learn their ways of life. So, you studied the language, the culture, the ways of life of the land. Not fully understanding the people, you were enchanted with the Na’vi, specifically the Omatikaya clan that only sat miles away hidden within the forest. Sometimes you closed your eyes and almost just almost could picture what it would be like to be one of them. The purest of souls. That's how you remained sane all those years; your childhood was spent within a lab, with scientists as your proxy parents. Scientists who didn’t have any initial history with raising a child, let alone two. 

Miles Socorro, your adoptive brother if you could even call him that was only about a year younger than you, born on this forsaken island with parents who didn’t quite understand their role in the destruction your species caused. Unlike your parents, they were more focused on destroying the clan of the forest as well as its resources rather than preserving it, and eventually, it caught up to both of them. You didn’t claim him as your brother, though many of the scientists considered him to be, but rather a problematic monkey boy who wished to disregard the feelings of the Omatikaya people in favor of his own wants or needs.

Spider became what you knew him as, as you got older and suddenly his presence around the lab faltered, barely lingering. He ran off when he was young and somehow his charming wit and quick reflexes were enough to earn a spot within the clan. Metaphorically though because as long as he was human he would never be one of them. None of you would be. As the Na’vi has said, “Every person is born twice…” but when you are one of the sky people you will never earn a place among the people. 

“Y/N?”

The voice of Norm Spellman, one of the two scientists you considered yourself to have worked under for most of your life appeared in the doorway of the lab, a small smile adorned on his face. It widened at the sight of you once again sitting at Dr. Augustine’s old desk, reviewing the same psionic link logs you had watched at least a dozen times. 

Pausing it with ease, you stared at the woman’s face for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “Sorry, yes?” 

“Do you think you could go grab the container for the Dandetiger plant downstairs? I would like to take a couple of slides of it.” 

You nodded and watched as he disappeared out of the room again. Sighing, you gazed down at the computer screen, meeting the smile of Dr. Augustine as she recapped her day spent at the school with the Na’vi children. Shaking your head sadly, you glanced up past the screen across the lab into the open doorway of the incubator room. There she sat, still surrounded in that blue illuminant liquid kept away from the rest of the world. Her avatar looked so much like her, even now. Even after all these years. With Grace gone there was no one else that shared the DNA to use her avatar, so day after day that’s where it sat; in clear view of your desk, motionless. It was such a waste. You shook your head and logged off the computer. 

As you came back up from the storage room, you held one sample of the Dandetiger and one from the Tree of Voices or what was left of it after it was bulldozed down by the sky people. It didn’t glow as it once did but somehow as you stared down at it through the microscope, you could almost picture it in all of its beauty. You handed off the specimen to Norm and crossed the room peering in towards Max, who sat at his desk looking over an image of a brain. Max was the other scientist you primarily worked under and the one who had raised you all these years. He was older now, gray littered in his beard and hair peppered slightly, but somehow as people have told you he remained ever the same. Kind, slightly bossy, and completely enamored by this place he called home. 

Leaning into the doorway, you cleared your throat, and instantly upon your presence, he closed the tab out from his computer, the hologram disappearing into thin air. Your brows furrowed for a mere second but thought to ignore it. “Hi, Max. Whatcha doing?” 

“Nothing,” he brushed off, examining you as well as the specimen in your hands, “What are you doing?” 

You shrugged, smiling, “Nothing.” 

He chuckled under his breath knowing that this was something you often did, took samples from the Tree of Voices or Home Tree just trying to piece together the past and way of life of the Omatikaya before the sky people invaded. He liked to think it was the scientist in you, but really your heart and soul for the world around you. You sent him a wink just as you planned to slip away when he called out to you again. 

The next time you looked over at him, there was something in his hand, a pastry decorated with frosting and sprinkles, and a single candle stuck out of the top of it. A cupcake. He lit the candle and handed it over to you. Your heart felt heavy at that moment as you glanced back and forth from it in your hands to the older man before you, a warm expression across his face. “What is this?” 

“Happy birthday.” 

Your eyes widened, almost having entirely forgotten as a soft smile suddenly appeared. Eighteen, that was right. You were turning eighteen and somehow you had let it almost slip by with how the days had once again begun to blur together. Boredom had set in and somehow you blinked and it was your birthday. Nodding, you blew out the candle and thanked him. 

You turned away and took one step back in the direction of the lab when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Outside of the window, where the green grass was bright under the sunlight, you watched as three Na’vis approached the camp accompanied by none other than Spider leading the frontier. Just when you thought you could have a peaceful birthday, his smug face would have to appear and ruin it. 

You rolled your eyes and called out back towards Max, “We got company.” 

“No, you mean you have company,” he called back, correcting you.

Sighing, you hurried away from the door back towards the lab, where you quickly set up your microscope to pretend you were busy working. Just as you took a seat, you swiped your finger across the top of the cupcake and stuck it into your mouth. You hummed in satisfaction just as the compact sealed door opened and closed near the entryway, then in a matter of seconds, all you could hear was the patter of a pair of feet. 

Even if you never would be accepted by the people, that somehow didn’t stop you from ever interacting with members of the Omatikaya clan. Jake Sully the last dream walker happened to have children, four in fact. One was a direct spawn from Grace’s avatar, something that still remained a mystery. Consequently, his three youngest became quite close with Spider, and with that friendship came a complete entrancement with the lab and the sky people that inhabited it. Somehow the Sully children seemed the most fascinated with you, the only human girl they ever came face to face with, especially one that was close to their age. Kiri, the daughter of Grace, supposedly from Eywa was the same age as Lo’ak, Toruk Makto’s second oldest child. They were seventeen now, and even to this day still argued like those young kids when you had first met them. Then there was Tuk, the youngest of the family that always blackmailed her older siblings into letting her tag along on everything she could. The threat always consisted of tattling on them to their mother and that always proved to be enough for Lo’ak to let her tag along. 

The eldest Sully child, a son around your age, had been mentioned quite often and not always kindly by his siblings, mostly Lo’ak but after all these years, he still had never shown his face here. Never among the sky people. You never asked why, but you didn’t have to as the younger brother always spoke about how the golden child was off training to one day become the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya people. Somehow he had managed to stay out of his younger siblings' bullshit but you heard about him quite often, more often than you needed to. 

Even after all these years, the sound of their voices and the hurried steps across the cement floor never ceased to surprise you. The only contact you had with the Na’vi people in your lab was constantly in your face. At first, they didn’t pay you much mind other than Lo’ak who somehow even at the age of ten was the smuggest bastard you had ever met. He found it quite easy to flirt with you, enjoying the way you glared over in his direction and threatened to hit him upside the head. Kiri was the first one you had initially talked to, often about her mother, offering to share whatever you could with her, including the video logs. No one could quite explain how she ended up here but you were more than willing to help try and piece it together. In exchange she talked about her village, the Omatikaya people, and often would bring you gifts, things that they valued within their lives. You kept them over the years. They all resided safely away in your room upon your desk overlooking a window that peered out to the forest. 

“Y/N!” 

The eight-year-old’s steps slapped across the floor as she appeared from the hallway practically sprinting. As you glanced over your shoulder, you were met with a blue figure colliding with you and your chair. You stumbled slightly backward as the arms wrapped around your waist, face leaned against your torso. Tuk hugged you tightly and you couldn’t help the smile that appeared at the affection. 

“Well, hello.” 

A few seconds later the rest of them emerged into the lab, Kiri grinning and Lo’ak and Spider messing around, barely even looking your way. Finally, their bickering ceased, and found you staring over at them. Spider rolled his eyes and Lo’ak could only send you a small salute with the widest grin on his face. You rolled your eyes before meeting those of your closest friend. Kiri’s arms were hidden behind her back and she swayed back and forth on her tiptoes. 

Your eyes narrowed for a second as Tuk finally pulled back from your embrace, returning to practically bouncing off the walls. She grinned as she stared at her older sister. You tilted your head to the side, “Well you all appear to be in a good mood today.” 

“I guess you could say that,” Kiri replied. 

“Why? What’s going on?”

She finally caved and laughed, “We have something for you actually.” 

“You’re going to love it,” Tuk reassured, her hand finding yours. 

Kiri nodded and following her movements, she extended her hand out to you, clasped shut over something. Ever so slowly she turned her hands and opened them and for a mere second, you felt your breath get caught in your throat. It was a necklace but not just any necklace. One adorned in beads and strings resembling most jewelry that was made and worn by the Omatikaya. This one particularly was made with beads of blue and green, crafted into the most beautiful shapes and patterns. 

“We made it for you!” Tuk announced. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Kiri said. 

Your mouth dropped open for a mere second, heart swelling at the gesture and the excitement that covered both Na’vis’ faces. It took you a few moments to regain yourself but when you did, a large smile formed across your face. “Thank you. You guys are too sweet, but how did you—”

“We asked Norm about it the last time we were here. He gave us a countdown of how many days it was and from there we just kept track,” the older Sully girl explained, gesturing to put the necklace on you. 

You nodded, still slightly at a loss for words, “I really appreciate this. You are too kind to me truly.”

“Shush,” she mumbled, walking behind you to place the necklace on. As she wrapped it around your neck with ease, it was then you peered over at the two boys in the room who had remained quiet. Kiri and Tuk looked at them expectantly and Spider huffed in annoyance. 

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled, barely able to get it out. 

As you met Lo’ak’s gaze, his smile widened. Tuk gestured to you and he shrugged as if remembering that he should probably say something. Reaching forward, he took the cupcake from your desk and examined it for a moment before taking a large bite out of the side of it.  “Happy birthday, Y/N/N. Another year more beautiful than the last.” 

You rolled your eyes, concealing the need to gag as his large golden eyes stared down at you, “Which reminds me, is this finally the year you’re going to ditch this place and come with us?” 

“Lo’ak!” His sister scolded, finally letting the necklace fall loosely against your neck

“What?” He held his hands up, glaring in her direction, “This place is like a cage. And I think a day out with us wouldn’t kill her. She could afford to live a little.” 

Kiri huffed and stepped towards him shoving him slightly, a look that could kill sent his way. “Do you ever shut up? You do realize that you sound like a complete idiot!”

“Yeah whatever, you know it’s worth a shot at least,” he reasoned, looking past her towards you, laying on the extra charm with his next sentence, “I know you want to Y/N. We all do. You always have. I mean look at you. You have that damn piece of the Tree of Voices again. Aren’t you a little bit curious what it actually looks like out there?” 

You sighed as Tuk’s hand remained wrapped around your arm hanging onto every word her older brother said, just hoping deep down that you would say yes. It crossed your mind, and for a moment you considered it but then the face of their mother appeared and the rest of the Omatikaya people. Their reactions to a sky person trespassing against their land. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to or that you always had. What mattered was how those people would feel.

“I think I’ll pass.” 

He groaned, shoulders dropping in disappointment and you couldn’t bare to face Tuk knowing that her expression probably looked the exact same. Shaking his head, he stepped towards you and placed the cupcake down on your desk. A smile appeared again as he reached up and flicked your ear playfully. “You’re insufferable.” 

You matched his expression with ease, the only way you were able to handle him. “Wow, that might be the biggest word you have ever used. I guess I was wrong about the size of that brain of yours. It’s larger than I thought.” 

“One of these days I am going to get you to step out of this fucking lab and that’s a promise.” 

They stayed for a while after that, the normalcy of Lo’ak and Spider teaming up against everyone else ringing in your ears. Tuk was glued to your side for most of that time, touching your arm or flicking a piece of hair out of your face. The two older siblings could only make note of it as you sat switching from joining the conversation and looking through the microscope at the slides of the Tree of Voices. It was luminescent under the microscope and it was hard to look away, even though you had seen it multiple times. They left reluctantly because it was getting dark and if they could’ve stayed longer they would. 

Later that evening, you sat outside of the lab staring out the large glass window fiddling with the necklace around your neck. It was dark and you couldn’t help yourself but stare forward at the forest on the other side of that wall. You knew almost everything that was out there, had studied every part of it but you still felt so disconnected from it all. Lo’ak was right, he would always be right when it came to you and what you wanted. This was no life for a person, locked away within a lab, no potential to ever leave. For the other scientists that stayed they chose this, they wanted this life rather than to return to their dying planet but you, you never chose this. 

“Y/N.” 

You blinked, wiping the tears that threatened to form in your eyes as your other hand gripped tightly to the beads of the necklace. Norm stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets, looking from you to the window. A small frown was etched across his face, knowing that expression on your face far too well as it only had become more persistent the older you got. “Did you need something else?” 

He shook his head and approached you, patting your shoulder with comfort. That alone almost made you want to burst out into tears but you held it together. Silence lingered for a moment, a moment where you could feel the pain that was buried so deep within your chest. His touch fell away and he nodded in the direction of the lab. “We have something we need to show you?” 

You lifted a brow over in his direction in curiosity, “We?” 

A satisfied look appeared on his face and he nodded. “Yes.” 

“So you and Max?” you asked in which he merely shrugged. Your expression hardened for a moment because though those two had been around you your whole life, sometimes their ideas weren’t always the best. You frowned, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.” 

Your stare hardened and you sighed, “I hate surprises.” 

“I have a feeling you’ll like this one, come on,” Norm chuckled, that smile of his widening. 

With hesitance, you let your hand fall away from the necklace and you stood, almost reluctant. Dragging your steps, you moved towards the doorway of the lab to follow Norm but a hand held up in your face stopped you. You sighed for a moment when you realized what he was going to make you do. He chuckled and gestured again. “Close your eyes.” 

“I swear to god,” you cursed underneath your breath and he stopped you before you could say anything else. 

“Just do it,” he demanded, a fatherly tone in someway occupying his usual soft kind voice. His frustration was there, which didn’t happen often, but something as small as that made the corners of your mouth quirk up in a small smile. It was no way to live but somehow even with that there were people here that cared about you, that wanted to see you happy. Somehow even in all of it, the loss of your parents, the dealing with Spider’s bullshit, you gained a family. A family of a few scientists that were just in love with this deadly planet as you were. 

Shrugging as a way of acceptance, you obliged, your eyes fluttering to a close. His hand took your arm gently and began to guide you into the lab out of the hallway and you felt inclined to peek which he stopped you from doing multiple times. The nerves were alive in your stomach almost threatening to make you puke. You had hated surprises ever since you were a kid. Many times Spider had tricked you by either throwing hands full of mud in your face or getting you lost at the edge of the forest. After that, you didn’t dare step a foot outside of the lab unless it was to collect samples or admire the forest from afar. Those anxieties somehow remained even when the bully that was the younger boy wasn’t around and you knew you were completely safe. 

You felt your feet stumble slightly on the shift of the room’s floor, revealing that you no longer were in the lab. You groaned, still able to feel his hand wrapped around you securely to prevent you from falling, “This is torture.” 

“You’re being dramatic,” you heard Max’s voice from somewhere behind you, amusement laced within it. Oh god, this wasn’t promising. 

“Well, I should be,” your shoulders dropped as the nerves didn’t cease, “Sometimes when the two of you are together your ideas are not so great.” 

“Hey!” Norm exasperated, feeling offended by your comment. 

You felt him stop though and so did you. You felt your heart jump into your throat as if you were going to be sick. You exhaled deeply as the room fell silent for a mere moment, your anticipation practically killing you though it felt more like dread. He tapped your head lovingly as he glanced around to Max then back towards the “surprise.” 

“Okay,” he took a deep breath and Max nodded in response. They both gazed down at you and then at the thing they had been keeping from you for years, concealing, and working with every piece of information they could. It all led to this moment. “You can open them now.” 

Even as he said that you were skeptical and only clenched your eyelids tighter as the anxiety seemed to fully wrap around your throat at this point. Norm chuckled, “Y/N, you can open your eyes now.” 

“I am scared,” you replied, arms wrapping around yourself as a way of comfort, nails practically digging into your forearms. The two scientists laughed and looked at one another knowingly. 

Max rolled his eyes, “Y/N, open your eyes.”

You exhaled deeply but listened anyway despite your gut telling you otherwise. Your eyes fluttered open, the shining light above your head making you squint for a mere moment to adjust to the brightness. You were in the incubator room, the cold temperature of it creating goosebumps across your arms. You stared forward at the avatar’s tank, Grace’s features the only thing you could focus on. She was still just as she had been since Dr. Augustine had died and the image of a few hours ago passed behind your eyes of Kiri sitting near the incubator memorizing every single line of her mother’s face. She talked to her often, trying to find some conclusion as to how she came to be and the reason she was even here. It brought a whole new meaning to the avatar program when Grace passed away and Kiri was born. More so when Jake Sully became Toruk Makto and fell in love with the Olo’eyktan’s daughter.  

Blinking slightly, you stared forward at the body, confusion forming across your expression. You felt your body relax as Max appeared behind you. His hands found your shoulders and squeezed them lightly. “Happy birthday, kid.” 

As you were about to turn to him, something caught the corner of your eye and suddenly you found a gasp ripping from the base of your throat. The amnio tank that sat just behind Grace’s that had sat empty for all these years were filled with the same blue amniotic fluid that filled hers. Eyes wide, your head whipped towards both Norm and then Max, heart beating a hundred miles a minute. You looked over searching for any slight hint of assurance that Max gives you with a nod. Slowly, you stepped away from him towards the amnio tank with wide eyes and shaky palms. They met the cold glass as an unsteady breath fell from your parted lips. 

An avatar. That was what was floating around within that amnio tank. A large blue frame slightly smaller than Grace’s floating — its own arms wrapped around itself, body twitching every so often as if it was merely sleeping. A form of life, that’s what it was, and it was the most amazing thing you had ever witnessed before. You traced it with your eyes from its slender waist, strong legs, and a long tail with a queue, up to its face. A face that almost brought tears to your eyes as it was entirely familiar; sharp cheekbones, flat nose, arched eyebrows, white spots speckled across its smooth skin. She looked so much like you, you could barely believe it. 

“What the fuck?” you cursed, voice breaking as you peered back at the two men who had always been in your life. “Really? You guys did this for me?”

“Best birthday gift, huh?” Norm smiled. 

You couldn’t help but sniffle and nod, “But how? These take years to…” 

Max nodded along with you and you grinned as your voice trailed off in complete disbelief that they had taken the time to do this, approximately three to five years to do this. But it could have taken much longer with the lack of resources left for them since the war. And somehow they did it all while keeping it a secret. “But how did you know?” 

“We just kind of figured ever since you were six,” Norm answered. “But it become more evident as years went on with the Sully kids always around.” 

“Six?” 

Max laughed, “You don’t remember do you?” 

Your brows furrowed and you shook your head, unable to pull any memories from that far back that would make them think that you needed your own avatar. Crossing his arms over his chest, Max shared a look with Norm before peering over at you in amusement.

“When you were six years old, Miles did something at the time to really piss you off. I don’t quite remember what it was but you grabbed one of the oxygen masks and ran out of here. You said you were leaving and that you were going to move over into the village to live with the Na’vi.” 

“It took us two hours to find you,” Norm added in, “You hadn’t made it far so it wasn’t a big deal, but we found you about a mile into the forest, hidden within a bush of Panopyra staring at the way it glowed. You had no fear back then and ever since then, this has been your life. Studying anything and everything about Pandora and we appreciate all your help all these years.” 

You laughed and smiled but it lessened slightly as you were unable to hold any meaning to the memory they so vividly can recall. It was so long ago and somehow it didn’t exist to you. Max peered over your shoulder at the avatar and cleared his throat suddenly, “We know that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life locked away and staring at a microscope. This might not be able to give you much but it at least gives you a little wiggle room. It’ll get you out of this building.” 

Glancing from the two of them back to the avatar, you found your fingers tracing the glass with ease as for the first time in years, you remembered what it was like to be excited about something. To look forward to something. Wiping at your eyes, you felt your throat closing up trying to keep the sudden emotion at bay. You sent a smile to both of them, unable to express everything you felt at that moment.

“Thank you. Both of you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” 

“So,” Norm clapped his hands trying to ignite a little more excitement back into the room, “You want to test this thing out tomorrow. Do a little test drive.” 

“Yes,” you grinned, hurriedly, “I would really like that, actually.” 

That night you were unable to sleep, your mind buzzing full of all the possibilities. From touching all of the plants to experiencing the way the forest glowed at night, creating a path of bioluminescence, or being able to interact with some of the animals after years of staring at pictures or video logs left by Dr. Augustine. Even the possibility of interacting with the Omatikaya passed through your mind but instantly you tried to let go of that one. If there was one thing they hated it was sky people, an avatar was just one step up. An alien in a false Na’vi body was not welcome and was far too dangerous to them. You would maybe be able to play with the Sully children in the forest, close by to the camp, but actually go to the village, and see the sites where Home Tree and the Tree of Voices once were would never happen. To ever actually interact with the Omatikaya people, meet the remaining Sully eldest son, or learn about the Na’vi ways directly would never be allowed, so you tried your hardest to forget about it. It wasn’t easy though as that was all you wanted, the ability to interact. 

The next morning, you woke up early, fidgeting and bouncing on the heels of your feet. It was something Norm, Max, or the other scientists hadn’t seen in you in so long. You were usually quiet, kept to yourself, and barely talked to anyone unless asked to. That day you said good morning to everyone, a smile plastered across your face, asking hundreds of questions every moment you could. By breakfast, Norm and Max had already explained all of the protocols, the expectations, and how the link pods worked. Even with all that, it was going to be a long day of testing motor skills, brain function, and everything else with the avatar if the linking process was even successful. It had been years since they powered up the link pods and they only hoped one would at least run without a large amount of money getting put into their building and equipment. 

It was midday by the time you finally laid eyes on the open link pod and climbed inside. Sitting within it, you felt your hand dip into the gel encasing with fascination as Max powered up the pod and got everything ready with the monitor. Cautiously, you laid back suddenly nervous. Nervous that it wouldn’t work but even more nervous that it would. You felt the metal cage get brought down on your body and your head was on a swivel looking around at the room and the small space you would be encased in. 

“You okay?” Max asked, able to see the moment of panic displayed on your face. 

You sent him a smile back though realizing that it was everything you had ever wanted, “Yeah.” 

“Good, just lay back and close your eyes. Let your mind go blank,” he explained, closing the top of the link pod on you, sealing you inside. 

You could hear your breath and the twitch within your fingers as you stared up at the ceiling of the pod, trapped inside. After about a minute, you inhaled and closed your eyes, trying to calm down your racing heart. Before you knew it, it was all over with a flash of light. Your eyes fluttered open and blurred for a mere moment as you were faced with bright luminescent lights beating down on you. For a few seconds, you stared up at them, wondering if it had actually worked but then you were brought back to reality as you heard some bustling from beside you, causing your ears to twitch at how loud and clear it was. 

Head snapping into the direction of the sound, you found Norm standing there in a lab coat with an oxygen mask pulled over his face messing with a monitor. Looking around the small medicalized room before you, you found yourself in a hospital gown and just below that long legs and blue feet hanging off the edge of the medical bed. You gasped and raised your arms up to peer at your hands. They were blue with five fingers. Sitting up quickly, you stared at them in wonder as the sudden movement caught Norm’s attention. 

“Hey, take it easy, okay? We should take things slow,” Norm said, hands raised out towards you as he came to your side. He lifted his hand and did a couple of snaps by the side of your head, satisfied in the way your ears twitched in response. 

“It worked,” you grinned suddenly, looking behind you to find a long braid with the queue and an even longer tail moving around on the bed. 

He returned the look on your face, “Yeah it worked, but we still have a lot to do. Lots of tests to make sure everything is in order.” 

You barely heard what he said as your hands traced over your tail as it moved. Finally looking up, you met the gaze of Max through the large glass window still standing behind a desk and a monitor that looked at your brain function. He smiled and you could only return it. 

It took another fifteen minutes of testing motor skills that consisted of things like touching each finger to your thumb and wiggling your toes before you were allowed to stand and another ten after that before they let you walk around. You were restless by that time, barely able to control your new body that suddenly resembled a baby deer stumbling around, evident in the way you nearly fell every so often and your tail seemed to collide with every single thing around you. After half an hour, you began to get the hang of it, walking around the small space as Norm checked on a few more things with the avatar. It was late in the day by the time they found a spare set of clothes lying around in some old things and you were able to step outside of the lab. 

Dressed in some of Grace’s avatar’s old clothes, you stood in front of the door of the medical room, a new feeling appearing, one that resembled hope. You stepped out with Norm just behind you and instantly the sun that hung low in the sky hit you in the face but not as hard as the breeze that you had never felt on your face before. You took in a deep breath, able to smell the air and have it fill your lungs without a mask strapped onto you. It was a new sense of freedom you had never realized you would appreciate so much. When you opened your eyes, your gaze found the forest just on the other side of the fence and suddenly a new kind of determination appeared. 

“Max, please,” you begged as you entered back into the medical room to ask if they would let you go out into the forest for an hour at most. It was a few hours until it would be dark and you knew you wouldn’t go as far as a few miles. There were weapons you could even take with you but both Norm and Max were reluctant. 

“It’s just the first day, Y/N/N. That’s a lot of stress to put on you and the avatar. Plus, it’s getting late,” he reasoned. 

“It would be for an hour and you know I wouldn’t go too far. Please, I need this. I need to just experience a little bit more,” you said, glancing over to Norm who seemed to be considering your words. “I know about so many things. I would know what to avoid and what would be safe.” 

“She has a point there,” Norm interjected. 

“Yeah, and I know we still have some transmitters lying around. I’ll wear one so we can be in contact the whole time. And if need be I could even take a weapon, something to defend myself, just an hour, please Max.” 

He sighed and that’s when you knew you had him. Glancing down at the link pod that held your human body and then up at you through the glass window, he couldn’t destroy that look in your large golden eyes, that happiness that he hadn’t seen in years.

“Fine. But an hour do you hear me? If it starts to get darker sooner, you get your butt right back here, okay?” 

You jumped up and down, tail wagging from side to side, “Yes, yes of course. Thank you. Thank you.” 

You should have listened to them. You shouldn’t have gotten too ahead of yourself. Somehow there was something about this body, this feeling of control that made you a little crazy. As soon as you stepped into the brush further into the forest, you broke out into a sprint, legs unable to stop their movements as you pushed back tree limbs and wide brush. Within the first fifteen minutes, you happened to go further than the one-mile restriction you had promised them. Instead, you fed them lies over the transmitter and ignored their questions every once in a while, promising that you would be back any minute. You hadn’t run that long or that fast in so long though. Contained in a small building and a patch of land all your life. You didn’t know how long it would last; this freedom, this body, this ability to be quick with even quicker reflexes. Ones you were still trying to get used to at that. You should have listened though. 

It was starting to get dark, slowly, and just as you spoke through the transmitter saying you would be back soon, you felt your heart drop within your stomach. A sound resembled a hiss of some kind just a few feet away behind a set of trees. It was low, rough, and vibrated within your ears. Hidden behind a tree, you peeked around and felt your ears flatten out of fear at the sight of the large Thanator with even bigger teeth, sharp claws digging into the soil of the ground, and ears on high alert. It was the same creature that had once led Jake Sully into the forest where he made contact with the Omatikaya directly. He barely made it out alive and you weren’t looking to find out if you could outrun it just as he had. You held your breath and counted to five before you slowly began to walk deeper into the forest, constantly looking over your shoulder. When you felt like you were far enough, out of earshot, you broke out into a sprint. You were panting, completely out of breath, forehead dripping in sweat as you continued with the pace for almost ten minutes.

However suddenly as you glanced behind you to see if it was there somehow following you, you felt your foot latch onto something, a rock maybe or a log. It sent your body forward, hurling you until you felt yourself collide with the ground. Quickly you began to fall, rolling at a fast rate down a large hill hitting things you couldn’t even see, and before you knew it you had come to a stop. 

Hours later, you were waking up and the daylight was gone leaving you surrounded by the sounds of animals and insects lurking around unseen. You blinked a couple of times wondering if you were back in the link pod and your brain was just playing tricks on you but when you felt an intense amount of pain shoot through your shoulder you knew you were still in the forest and still within your avatar’s body. You couldn’t understand why but it didn’t matter. 

You sat up slowly, noticing a pond lay nearby glowing, filled with lily pads and different flora. Numerous other plants and insects were just as bright; all consisting of either green, purple, pink, or blue. You felt your breath hitch as you scanned the area, wary as you thought about what had you running in the first place. You felt the sting again as you leaned back against the tree you must have collided with and reached up to press your fingers against your shoulder.

When you pulled it back it was stained red. Shaking your head, you reached up to touch the transmitter that had been attached to your ear but felt a wave of panic rush through you as it was no longer there. You looked around the ground but it wasn’t there either. Cursing underneath your breath, the realization dawned on you that you were lost and completely alone. 

It didn’t last long though because as you managed to pull yourself to your feet, a sound emerged from out of the brush a few feet in front of you. First what sounded like hushed voices, but then footsteps moving quietly across the ground. Instantly, your mind jumped to the idea of the Omatikaya and tried to move around the side of the tree to conceal yourself. If they wanted to shoot and kill you at first glance, they could because even if you looked like them you weren’t and that could easily be identified.

You held your breath just as the brush moved to the side and three figures emerged. Two were around the same size as one another and the third was significantly smaller. The first two were Omatikaya just like you originally thought with similar clothing, and belts littered with knives. They were arguing and as their voices sounded somewhat familiar, you glanced over at the third figure; tan skin, long dreads, barely tall enough to reach the Omatikaya’s shoulders. Then you saw the oxygen mask and you realized just then who it was. Spider was the first to notice you as you revealed yourself from around the tree. 

Clutching your shoulder in pain, he got the attention of both Lo’ak and Kiri. Within a matter of seconds, both of their knives were drawn and everyone seemed to be frozen in place, holding their breath. Lo’ak protectively stepped in front of Spider, and Kiri took one step closer to you, ears flat and teeth bared for you to see. A hiss was just on the tip of her tongue as her eyes took you in. It was the clothing that ignited fear in them all because it meant you weren’t Omatikaya and since you resembled them it was a whole new fear they didn’t know they would be encountering so soon. Somehow though as she looked from your clothes up to your features, her expression softened slightly, her eyes appearing less threatening but curious. Then as she noticed your hand clutched tightly around your shoulder, her orbs fell to the bright beaded bracelet around your wrist, and at that the recognition was instant. 

She stood up straight, arms going limp at her sides as her golden eyes widened in shock. She glanced one more time at the bracelet and the lack of fear that seemed to occupy your face. A gasp suddenly was ripped from her throat, dropping her knife to the ground. Quickly she rushed over to you ignoring her brother’s protests. 

“Oh great mother,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as her hands gently took a hold of your arms, eyes examining your face up close. Starting at your nose, then your glowing eyes, they fell down to your tail and long dark flowy hair that went past your shoulders all the way to the five fingers that accompanied your hands. 

Lo’ak kept repeating her name warily with Spider looking on with slight worry but she couldn’t even glance their way as her fingers moved up to trace over your nose in complete awe. A small smile ghosted over her lips, “Really?” 

“Hi,” you whispered, and at the recognition of your voice, she lurched forward and hugged you tightly. 

You hissed slightly under your breath but returned her embrace as best as you could and as the two boys looked at the two of you, the sound of your voice and the familiarity of your features seemed to get their attention. Lo’ak’s ears flickered and suddenly his eyes had gotten just as wide as his sister’s. “What the fuck?” 

The Sully boy cursed and slid his knife back into his belt before closing the gap between where he stood and the two of you. As Kiri released you, he walked around her to get a better look at you, and as soon as your eyes met, the largest smile formed across his lips. He was only a few inches taller than you and for once you got to see him in a whole new way. “No fucking way.” 

His gaze lingered on your eyes and your mouth for a brief second before he circled around you, flicking your tail amusingly. You groaned out of annoyance and pulled your tail back from his touch. His fingers then pressed along your ear to your hair as he continued to walk around you, unable to fully take in that it was really you standing in front of him and in a dream walker’s body. Touch tracing along your arm, he stood in front of you again and instantly took a hold of your wrist. With your hand stuck out, your palm turned upwards, his breath became lodged within his throat as he stared down at it. Stared down at your slightly smaller hands, ones that somehow resembled his more than the rest of the Na’vi. His fingertips then with the lightest touch traced your palm and then your fingers, before sliding them in between yours, holding tightly onto your hand. 

Looking up and over his shoulder at Spider, it seemed that look alone snapped him out of his confused state and he instantly took note of the familiarity of the dream walker in front of him as well as the clothes. “No. No!” 

A furrow formed in between his brows and he glared over at you as Kiri noticed the jealousy right away. It was evident across his face and you all knew it. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t.” 

You were silent, avoiding his eyes because you knew deep down that as much as you wanted this, so did he. He had run away to be with the Omatikaya as much as he could for fucks sake. You knew that automatically would make him feel like he deserved this way more than you ever had. “They gave you your own fucking avatar?” 

His tone was harsh, almost like nails on a chalkboard. It fueled some anger of your own and resentment towards the younger boy enough that your eyes snapped back in his direction, a glare of your own forming. You were smug as you respond with, “Yes. Yes, they did.” 

“They gave you your own avatar and let you run off on your own into the forest. Why can’t I possibly believe that?” 

You became silent again at the second part and broke eye contact away from him. You could still feel his hard stare as it left an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Because that hadn’t been what had happened. You felt Lo’ak squeeze your hand as it was still clutching his. All three of them could see the uneasiness that had spread across your blue face. 

“Wait a second,” Spider stated, breaking the silence, “Norm and Max wouldn’t have let you do that. Let you wander off on your own your very first day with it. There’s no fucking way. You’re inexperienced and they know that you would get yourself killed. Y/N!” 

You stepped forward, feeling Lo’ak pull back on your hand. “Look, I don’t know what happened. I was exploring the forest that is all and it’s not a crime. But then I saw a Thanator and I got scared.” 

“A what?” Kiri asked suddenly. 

“A palulukan,” you corrected, the Na’vi word coming off your tongue effortlessly and both Sully children shared a worried glance with one another at the word. “Then while I was running I must have slipped or fallen or whatever. I lost my transmitter and I just woke up here. It was stupid, I know that, okay?” 

As he took in your words, a self-satisfied grin then appeared on his face, “You realize they won’t let you ever take it out again. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went as far to take it away now.” 

“Spider,” Lo’ak snapped at him, jaw slightly clenched as he finally let go of your hand. 

Worry was evident on your face as that was the last thing you wanted now that you knew what it felt like. Kiri looked over at you and she noticed the way you were chewing on your lower lip staring at the ground. As she took in the rest of you, that's when she saw that you were still gripping your shoulder, blood painted across your fingers and the back of your hand. She stepped forward and released your grip to look at the wound and at the sight, she let out an unapproved sigh. “You’re hurt and it’s deep. We need to get this cleaned up.” 

Your ears perked up at that as she grabbed your arm and began to lead you in the opposite direction of the camp. You stopped though, digging your heels into the ground and pulling her back. “Kiri, wait. Just take me back to the base okay? Norm and Max can help me there.” 

“The village is closer and it’s dark. We couldn’t possibly go all the way back now.” 

“Kiri, please,” you begged, as the thought crossed your mind of entering the village and facing all of the Omatikaya, your appearance giving away that you were nothing but an outsider, someone who didn’t belong. It would be the first dream walker they would have seen in many years and the fear of what could happen appeared in your chest and it was almost suffocating. It worsened as you thought about their mother and what she would possibly do. 

“We’re already past curfew, Kiri,” Lo’ak reminded her, “Mom’s going to have our asses.” 

“Well, we can’t just leave her behind,” Kiri argued.

Spider chuckled, “Yes, we can.” 

All three of you glared over at the boy still fuming with jealousy at the sight of the older girl who happened to get an avatar before him. It was evident in the way he spoke, though deep down they all knew you wouldn’t survive out there all alone. That was why his comment sparked such rage in both of the siblings. 

Kiri’s gaze softened as she met the eyes of her oldest friend again, now gold and light and matching her own. It filled her with a sense of excitement herself to see that you finally resembled them and stepped foot off the camp. There were so many more possibilities now that you had this new body. She could finally show you the forest, her village, her life, everything she had been dying to show you for years. The sole obstacle at that moment was her mother. Even with that obstacle though, she knew her father, the Olo’eyktan would let you in and protect you just as he did with Spider, dream walker or not. Because many years ago he used to be one too. Everything would be fine. She was sure of it. The great mother Eywa was sure of it.

“Y/N, you can’t stay out here. Do you understand me? We need to go.” 

“Kiri.” 

“It will be okay. I promise.” 

You nodded after a moment, reluctant at first but began to follow them as Kiri picked up her knife from the ground and began to move swiftly through the forest. Spider pushed past you and caught up to her as Lo’ak waited for you, making sure you were at his side. Your heart was pulsing so loudly, you swore you could hear it in your ears, your anxiety clear through your movements that were less than relaxed or quick. Lo’ak kept sneaking glances at you but you didn’t have it in you to even acknowledge him, too worried to do so. 

After a few moments of walking, Kiri and Spider began to speed up. It was getting hard to keep up with them because the later in the night it got, the faster they all got, their own fear of being scolded and getting a smack down their sole motivator. They leaped over tree limbs and crossed long logs. It felt like you were getting left behind as every few seconds Lo’ak would have to slow down slightly to make sure you didn’t get more than a few feet behind them. He was almost tempted to grab your hand again and drag you along, but he knew better than to do that.

As they dashed through the forest, it led you to believe that you must have been close to the village. As it turned out, it was just across this fallen tree and through the brush. You hurried after them as they balanced across the long log that overlooked a terrain, hundreds of feet down. Your eyes suddenly widened as you watched Kiri and Spider leap across from the edge of the tree’s trunk to the other side landing on the ground with almost grace. Lo’ak followed them and you felt yourself swallow the spit that had gathered in the back of your throat, hands shaking as they seemed to continue into the forest. 

Falling behind, you attempted to make the jump but as you landed on the other side, just near the edge, you felt your foot get caught and slip slightly. You felt your weight shift backwards and your breath got pulled back into your throat, a scream unable to escape. However, just as you felt your body begin to fall, a hand wrapped around your wrist pulled you forward to their body and ultimately steadied you. You looked up to find Lo’ak staring back at you with a smirk plastered across his face. Withholding an eye roll from his confidence, you returned his look with a small smile. 

Running after Kiri and Spider, your legs started to feel weak, almost like they could collapse at any moment. Lo’ak rushed forward towards the front of the group, but just as he rounded the corner near the edge of the brush, you all watched as he collided with a solid frame. It almost knocked him to the ground but the slightly taller person managed to grab his shoulder before he could. The rest of you came to a stop and you watched from behind Kiri the way the other Na’vi’s grip on Lo’ak seemed to tighten as he sent a threatening gaze down at him.

Grabbing onto Kiri’s arm, you looked around her to examine the other Na’vi. He was tall, taller than Lo’ak by a few inches, with broad shoulders, a defined torso paired with a slim waist. His expression was pinched together, serious, almost unfitting for how soft his features were. His bright gold eyes held a sharp glare that made you shift uncomfortably behind Kiri.

Lo’ak didn’t back down though. No instead that smirk returned to his face. “Well if it isn’t daddy’s perfect soldier.”

“Ftang nga! (Stop it!).”  His voice was deep, deeper than you would have expected as he almost growled down at Lo’ak. “Where have you guys been? It’s been dark for hours.”

“I see you’re following up on your orders, brother,” he continued, finding amusement in the way the other Na’vi boy tensed under his words. 

Brother.

Your eyes widened suddenly, grip tightening around Kiri’s arm. She glanced down at you but you didn’t look away from the Na’vi before you. Brother. So this was it, the missing link. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. The future Olo’eyktan. The great Toruk Makto’s eldest son. The one who seemed completely responsible for the rest of his siblings when his parents weren’t around. The one who would one day be responsible for everyone else within the Omatikaya clan. He would one day hold the entire world on his shoulders and that pressure seemed to already be showing. It didn’t help that he had an asshat of a younger brother who never made him forget it.

The golden child. The perfect soldier. That was how Lo’ak had always described him all these years. Everything that he could have said to actually explain the kind of person Neteyam was wasn’t ever mentioned. No, because it didn’t matter who he was now or had been for his whole life but who he is supposed to become. 

His threatening gaze shifted away from Lo’ak to Kiri and Spider, but it faltered almost instantly as his eyes found you hiding behind his sister, your own stare wide and locked onto him. He was silent as he took you in, expression unreadable to you but almost softer than how he had been looking at his brother previously. His ears flattened slightly behind his head, his glare disappearing completely as he scanned over your face and the very unfamiliar features. His eyes followed yours, the way they glowed intensively in his direction, to the white spots across the bridge of your nose and around your eyes. Your own ears flickered while your lips quirked up into a soft smile, one he couldn’t look away from.

However, the trance he seemed to be in broke as he noticed your clothes and the blood soaking through your shirt on your shoulder. Strange material he hadn’t seen on anyone but the sky people. Your hand was still clutched onto Kiri and that’s when he saw that your hand resembled more of his sister’s, and brother’s, and the human stood in front of him rather than his own. His eyes then snapped back to his younger brother, who hadn’t even moved or faltered under his gaze. 

“What did you do?” 

Lo’ak’s eyes widened and hissed slightly under his breath, “Me? Why do you always assume that I did something?” 

“Because you always do. It’s like your brain is wired to never listen to anyone. You can’t do anything but get into trouble,” Neteyam reasoned, “I mean example A. It’s dark, way past your curfew and here you are Lo’ak, leading the fucking pack.” 

The younger brother’s ears dropped, his stomach turning at the words and the way his older sibling was looking at him — with pure disappointment. Leaning around Kiri, you tried to get a look at Lo’ak’s face and felt your own chest tighten at the sight of it. Eyes wide, almost in complete shock at hearing those words though you knew it hadn’t been the first time. Always he seemed to get himself into trouble and Neteyam always took the blame from their parents and the future Olo’eyktan always held it against Lo’ak. Just as Lo’ak always held it against Neteyam for being the perfect son. 

You watched then as his broken expression disappeared and instead was replaced with anger. He pushed his older brother’s chest but Neteyam didn’t back down. He held his ground like a good future leader would with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Lo’ak then hissed, “Tsap’alute (sorry), that I’m the fuck up of the family. That I can’t be perfect like you. The perfect soldier.” 

“Stop, calling me that!” 

“Well stop assuming that I did something wrong.” 

Both brothers' voices had reached an all-time high, screaming at one another, faces pinched together and flushed with color. You couldn’t help but look between the two of them just waiting, begging that Spider or Kiri would step in to stop them from saying any more. To break up the hard-set gazes and the need to be at each other’s throats but neither of them did. They just stood there and watched as the two brothers yelled it out. 

“Then what is this Lo’ak?” Neteyam asked turning his head for a split second, letting his eyes meet yours. However, this time his stare wasn’t soft but unwavering of the intensity he had sent to his siblings. “You have a dream walker with you. A dream walker. You know what mom has told us about them. They shouldn’t—” 

“She’s not just a dream walker, Neteyam,” he cut him off, voice letting out a low growl, “It’s Y/N.”

At the name, the eldest son’s ears perked up, his eyes never leaving yours. Proving that the name somehow meant something to him or that he had heard it before which wouldn’t have been unlikely as you had been interacting with his siblings for well over five years. He took you in then, somehow no longer just seeing a dream walker or a false Na’vi body but you, for the first time ever.

Everyone else found themselves looking at you too but you couldn’t look away from Neteyam or the hold he suddenly had on you at that moment. Lo'ak, still not feeling as if he had gotten the last word, continued, his pointer finger digging into his brother’s chest, eyes narrowed.

“And in case you have forgotten—” 

Without looking away from you Neteyam stepped away from Lo’ak ignoring him, and seeming to not have anything else to say but, “Za’u (come)!”

“What?” Kiri asked looking from her older brother to you where his focus still was. “Really?” 

He nodded, annoyance evident in his tone, “Let’s go. It’s already late enough and Mo’at says there is a storm coming.”

As you all continued what was left to the village, he never looked at you again. Instead, he walked in the front, one hand protectively gripping the knife at his waist, on high alert. You trudged along behind them, trying to stay as close to Kiri as possible but you kept getting distracted. It was the way his muscles shifted with each movement and he wasn’t entirely what you had thought him to be. After all these years, you had finally encountered the great Toruk Makto’s eldest son. The one who was working day in and day out to prove to everyone that he could one day be the leader they all hoped he could be. Something you very well knew but him being as attractive as he was seemed to never have been mentioned. 

You felt a small flick to your chest just as you moved through the last remaining brush. Kiri was looking over her shoulder at you, a surprised look across her face, “You’re staring.” 

“I am not.” 

Your voice was a mere whisper but in the quiet forest, it still managed to catch his ears as he turned his head slightly to the side, but after a moment decided against engaging in the girl talk at the back of the group.

Kiri laughed, right in your face, completely amused at the situation, “Hm, and I am sure Neteyam’s back would think otherwise.” 

“Shut up,” you hissed, but the rest of the words that were on your tongue had fallen away just as you stepped out of the long grass. Lights occupied the area, drawing your attention. Lanterns littered across the area that had cleared up significantly, leaving clear-cut grass rather than long ratty weeds. 

Your steps slowed almost in disbelief. You were finally there after all those years. Omatikaya's village. Large trees still filled the area, ones that towered so high they were almost impossible to climb, but among those were huts scattered all across the area, going as far as you could see in the dark. Your ears flickered at the noise, the numerous voices from all around. So many that it had been the first time in your entire life to be in a place inhabited by more than ten people. Blinking in almost awe, you felt Kiri take a hold of your wrist and tug you along.

As you walked through the village, your head was on a constant swivel; couples sat outside their huts staring up towards the sky littered with stars, kids laughing and playing a game resembling tag. A few stopped to peer at the new face in strange clothing but only for a few seconds before they went back to their game. Other families were already tucked into bed, getting rest and preparing for the long night and day ahead of them. 

Just as Neteyam had mentioned as well as Norm and Max, there was a massive storm coming. Rain and thunder were expected, something more monstrous than the ones that typically happened on Earth. It caused a new set of nerves to form because there was no saying when this storm would hit and if you were denied the chance to stay the night, you weren’t sure how you were going to get back or let alone navigate the forest in the dark. You wouldn’t survive.

It was as if Kiri could feel the shift in the air. The way your awestruck expression had melted away into complete fear and worry. She felt it in the way your frame was tense, unable to meet her gaze all of a sudden. As you made your way through the village, from a few feet away you noticed a woman standing in front of a hut, arms crossed over her chest, an expression that in itself could elicit fear. Neytiri. 

She was beautiful, elegant, everything a chief’s daughter was but she was also intensely loyal and protective, more so since becoming a mother and a wife. She had felt and experienced the most pain from the war that had been inflicted on her people, evident in the losses she witnessed. Her hatred towards the sky people only grew after all these years and the sight of her intense stare locked onto her children had you cowering behind her eldest daughter. 

You all stopped before her, Neteyam stepping closer to her to witness the scornful speech he knew would be delivered when she had asked him to run off and locate his brother and sister. Finding you, however, was not expected and even he knew his mother would not take to it lightly having you there. A loud pop of thunder encased your ears, making you jump as she stared daggers down at her youngest son, standing proudly in front of everyone else. 

“Where have you been? You know the rules,” she said, voice stern, “Be back here before dark.” 

Lo’ak held up his hands defensively, “Why are you only looking at me?” 

“Tìfnu (quiet).” 

Rolling his eyes, he groaned noticing the glare his older brother was sending his way, but he closed his mouth quickly as he saw the way his mother was looking at him. It was scary, to say the least, how the anger was evident in her bright eyes.

“What happened? What was it now?”

When her son refused to answer her, she directed her eyes to her daughter, but the motherly look on her face was drained within seconds as she noticed you, hiding behind Kiri, clutching your shoulder, a hand full of blood. She knew within a split second that you weren’t Omatikaya or Na’vi at all. The alien before her stuck out like a sore thumb and though you appeared just as she did, you had tainted blood flowing through your veins. A new look of anger occupied her face as she walked past both Lo’ak and Spider, aiming to get to you. Kiri revealed you to her mother but pressed her arm across your front as if to protect you. Neytiri noticed the small action and hissed, barring her sharp teeth to you. You flinched, almost ready to fall to your knees and pull your legs to your chest, into a ball. 

“She’s hurt. We found her all alone, mother. That’s what happened,” Kiri explained. 

“Skxawng parultsyip (stupid children),” Neytiri’s hands raised up into the air as so many different emotions formed upon her face as she then turned to you, “You need to leave.” 

Her words were directed to you as she continued, “You are not welcome here! Do you understand me?”

“Mom,” Lo’ak pushed by her to stand in front of you, noticing the way your ears flattened and your eyes grew to twice their size, “She’s a friend.” 

“Kehe (no). I don’t care what she is, she must go.”

Both of them now were holding you, trying to keep you from collapsing to the ground as the harshness, the loss of blood, and the worry had made you shift uncontrollably from one foot to the other. Your fear was evident to all of them. For a moment you swore Neteyam’s face had shifted, from a stoic expression to one of almost pity. You felt your heart drop, as if she had stomped on it directly. You knew you would have never been accepted, even if you had looked like them, studied for years to know their language, their ways of life. None of it would matter because to them you would always be one thing: an outsider. One of the sky people. 

“Neytiri!” The sound of a strong voice caught everyone’s attention as a larger frame approached full of dominance and authority. Jake Sully. Toruk Makto. The Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. 

It hadn’t been long since you had seen him. A few years at most as he had always visited Norm and Max here and there but not as often as he wished in exchange to appease his wife. After all, he no longer was one of them but Na’vi through and through. He looked from his wife who was still shaking with anger, fangs poking out of her mouth, to you. He took in the rest of the situation. Kiri and Lo’ak both holding onto you. Spider looks on nearby, uncertain of what would happen. Neteyam stared at the ground barely able to look at the girl dressed in clothes that resembled a sky person. Jake saw the blood immediately on your frame, littered across your shirt, and the tired expression that occupied your young face. 

Immediately, he knew. Knew what had happened, who you were, and the entire situation which made his wife act the way she had. He stepped forward until he was right in front of you and for a moment you closed your eyes almost asking, praying that you would wake up in the link pod to find that it all was a dream.

Lo’ak’s arms tightened around you, “It’s Y/N, Dad.” 

Jake inhaled and then let it go as your eyes fluttered open. Peering up at him, you watched as there seemed to be an internal war going on inside of his head. He looked over at his wife and then back to his children intertwined around you. Another clap of thunder seemed to draw him out of his thoughts. Reaching forward, his fingers brushed across your shoulder and you hissed out in pain.

His brows furrowed, the same pitiful look that was across his eldest son’s face seconds ago now occupied his, “You okay?” 

You nodded quickly, unable to fully take in that he was there and talking to you. He returned your action, nodding, a warm look occupying his face. He then shared a look with his two children. “Take her to an extra hut and clean her up there. Alright?” 

A smile formed across Kiri’s face but immediately noticing her mother’s gaze over Jake’s shoulder she let it disappear quickly. She wrapped both of her arms around you and then steered you away with Lo’ak and Spider following behind. She heard her mother’s protests as she walked away. Jake then turned to face his eldest son and the wife that he knew was looking to pick a fight at that moment.

Nodding in the direction the rest of you disappeared, he spoke to Neteyam, “Go.” 

The eldest Sully sighed but listened anyway and began to walk away, his footsteps heavy against the ground. As soon as he was gone, Neytiri stepped towards her husband, a new fire evident in her eyes as her fangs glistened in the moonlight.

“This is not happening. Do you hear me? That thing is not staying here!”

“She’s just a kid,” Jake reasoned. 

“No!” Neytiri met him chest to chest, voice reverberating as she dug deep inside to find the strength to remain calm, “She is a threat in a false body. You know that as much as I do. How are you not worried that there is another one?” 

“Because I used to be one.” 

Jake found himself getting just as angry, suddenly becoming very defensive over you after years of watching you grow up from afar. But all those years he had heard countless things from both Max and Norm as well as his children. You were no sky person, no enemy, looking to attack his family and his people. You were just a young girl who wanted to experience firsthand another life. That’s all. 

At those words, Neytiri’s face softened, memories from years ago filtering through the back of her head like a movie. Jake Sully. A warrior of the jarhead clan. Looking to learn the ways to be able to see. He had sacrificed himself for her people and completely stole her heart in the process. He had proved himself. 

“That was different.” 

“Maybe so, but you need to realize that so is she,” Jake said earnestly, pointing over his shoulder towards the hut where his children resided, “I know you’re worried. Of course, you would be, after everything you have been through. You have been through hell, but so has she.” 

“Jake,” she whispered his name and at that he reached forward both of his hands finding her arms. 

“You are so quick to assume she is like the rest of them. But remember I was like them. When I got here, I was sent on a mission and I thought just as they had. I was careless, misunderstanding, and completely selfish. A complete skxawng, but then I met you. I met the Omatikaya people and you taught me how to see the world in a whole new way. I fell in love with this place and with you.” 

Tears formed in her eyes as she stared at him, every word hitting her in the chest. His eyes never wavered from hers as he continued, “Y/N already sees so much more than I did when I came here. She has spent the majority of her life studying the ways that we live every day. Why do you think you have never seen her? Because she knows more than anyone that what her people did was horrible and unforgivable. She understands what we think of her kind and so she has stayed away. But somehow even with doing that she has caught the attention of our children and she has been so good to them.” 

“They’re protective of her,” she noted, suddenly feeling some guilt over her hostility towards no more than a young woman who was in need of shelter and rest. 

“Yes, and you should be so proud of them. You have taught them to protect the ones they love and they were doing just that.” 

She nodded, a small smile ghosting over her lips. At his words and how right he was. She had taught them so many things and among them to find the good in people and keep it close to them at all costs. Somehow that was you and she couldn’t quite understand it yet.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath before meeting his eyes again, “I don’t know about this, ma Jake.”

One of his hands reached up and cupped her cheek just as soft raindrops began to fall from the sky, soaking into their skin. “I know, but so long ago you gave me a chance to prove myself. To prove that I could belong here. I think she deserves that as well. A chance.” 

A moment of silence passed. Neytiri stared at the ground for a moment repeating his words over and over in her head. Finally, just as the rain got worse, she looked back up at him. Her mind was made up and she reached forward to lean her head toward his. With no other words, she simply nodded. It was barely even a movement but everything that was communicated to him was exactly what he needed to hear.

Jake smiled then and leaned forward kissing her forehead softly, “That’s my girl.” 

Breaking away from one another, Neytiri took Jake’s hand in her own and began to walk towards the hut, all of her children had led you to. Thunder erupted for the third time just as a flash of light crossed the sky gaining their attention for a split second. As they approached the hut, light shined through the doorway. However, their eldest son sat outside just by the door, arms crossed over his chest, eyes set forward looking on to the village and the storm that had just arrived. Jake’s brows furrowed for a moment out of confusion at the sight, noticing how where the rest of his children seemed to be enthralled by you like a moth to a flame it was as if Neteyam wanted nothing to do with you. In fact, that protectiveness or any recognition of feeling didn’t seem evident to him. It was as if he had no interest in you at all. But at the way their son sat, stuck in his thoughts, almost so much so he hadn’t noticed them in front of him at first. 

Neytiri stopped before him and nodded towards the hut, “Za’u (come).”

She entered then with Jake following behind. A few seconds later Neteyam entered behind them, steps faltering slightly as his eyes found yours. You were sitting on the floor, knees towards your chest. Kiri had ripped your shirt, almost entirely off to get access to the long cut. Dirt stuck to your shorts and was also littered across your face, and your long hair was pulled to one side to give more access to the wound. This was the first time he was seeing you with light. Your face now so much brighter, allowed him a moment to stare at your features and take them in, almost like he was going to file them away in his memory. Your eyes were screwed shut, your nose scrunched, and your lips formed into a tight line as you groaned and whimpered at the pain. Your shirt or what was left of it was coated in blood and Neteyam had to refrain from shifting at the sight of the bare skin of your shoulder and part of your chest. Even with the painful expression imprinted across your face, he couldn’t deny his sudden attraction towards you. 

As your eyes opened at the sound of Neytiri clearing her throat, they met him instantly. He tore his away instead of looking over at his younger brother that seemed just as encapsulated by you as he was moments ago. Yours then shifted to Neytiri and Jake who both stood by the doorway soaked from head to toe. Her expression was unreadable and at the sight of her, you leaned back but didn’t look away. Kiri withdrew her hands away from the cut and her incessant cleaning to listen to what her parents, more so what her mother had to say. 

“So you want to learn?” 

The question took you by surprise so much that it took you almost thirty seconds to even respond with all eyes boring down on you. You were unable to form words so you nodded. It seemed she didn’t approve of that though as her eyes narrowed slightly. “Pivlltxe (speak)!” 

“Yes.” Your voice was small, and they all took note of it. You cleared your throat and tried again, “Yes.” 

Neytiri glanced over her shoulder at Neteyam who had been looking at you, but at the sight of his mother peering over at him, his stare dropped to the ground. The corner of her mouth quirked up in slight amusement as she then turned back to you.

“It is decided, my son will teach you our ways. To speak and walk as we do.” 

Both of her sons’ heads shot up, sharing a look with their mother. Lo’ak let out a noise of approval as her words hit him straight in the face, “Really?” 

Neytiri and Jake looked towards their youngest son and it was almost comical how quickly he assumed she was talking about him as if he knew how to teach and express the ways of Eywa and the Na’vi when all he had an interest in doing was creating trouble. Neytiri looked away from him to Neteyam who was staring at his mother expectantly, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He was waiting for what she had to say.

Her hand gestured to him as she turned back to you, “Neteyam.” 

Your heart stopped for a second or two as your eyes widened slightly. Glancing at each brother, you watched as their reactions unfolded. Lo’ak’s expression dropped, annoyance appearing as he huffed and folded his arms across his chest. The resentment was there for his brother and this was just another prime example he would use to build that up. Neteyam appeared as you did, a deer in headlights in complete shock but then as it set in that he was being given the responsibility to teach a dream walker the way of Eywa, he became spiteful. He stepped towards his mother and lowered his voice as if he was going to protest but she held up her hand silencing him.

“It is decided. You want to be Olo’eyktan someday and if you do this we’ll know you’re ready,” she repeated this time to only him, “You’ll start tomorrow.” 

He let out a sigh, one that expressed he was giving up arguing, and instead glanced over at you to find the shocked look still on your face. Silence occupied the hut again as Neytiri with her expression softer towards you than it ever had been, nodded before stepping out of the hut to go to her own.

Jake directed his voice at you, “Get some rest.” 

Just as he turned to follow his wife though, you spoke up, “Jake.” 

He looked back at you. You smiled, “Thank you.” 

A small wink was sent your way from the man. No other words were exchanged then and you watched as he left, his footsteps fading away. Neteyam still stood in the same spot, gobsmacked by the situation he had gotten put into. You looked at him expectantly and finally, he dared to meet your eyes.

He was irritated and it was evident in the way his shoulders were tense and squared up, his voice resembling anything but warm, “I’ll meet you outside tomorrow morning. Early tomorrow morning.” 

He disappeared out into the night after that and you were left with some ease knowing that it was only Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider left. Your whole body relaxed and you leaned against Kiri, your head falling upon her shoulder as Lo’ak still stood in the corner fuming at what had just happened.

With a deep breath, you lifted your head to Kiri and then shifted to Lo’ak, “What the fuck just happened?” 

Kiri laughed, filling the room with a little more joy than previously had filled it, “They’re going to let you stay.” 

“Yeah and she chose Neteyam to be the one…” Lo’ak said, his voice trailing off as his expression hardened in spite. 

Kiri rolled her eyes at her brother and his sudden possessiveness over you but then let another laugh slip again as she realized something. You turned to her and her hand reached forward to push a loose piece of hair out of your eyes, her smile the only thing you could focus on.

“Wait until Tuk finds out about all this. Actually, wait until Tuk sees you.” 

That night when you closed your eyes in that empty hut, the lantern blown out to leave you in complete darkness, you stared up out of the opening of the tent for a while, just watching the way the lightning lit up the sky almost with complete amplitude and deliberateness. Thunder rang in your ears while the sound of rain pelted against the side of the only shelter you had. It was dangerously beautiful just as this opportunity was. This opportunity to learn and prove yourself to the Na’vi. It was the eye of a storm, something so enticing and just begging you to walk out into the chaos. But even with all that, you felt the impending problems weighing down on your chest, all the possibilities that could go wrong. 

You thought about it for a while before you fell asleep. When you woke up, you were staring up at a bright flashlight trailing across your eyes and two hands holding your face. You were no longer in the forest with the Omatikaya people, staring helplessly up at the ceiling of a hut but you were back in the camp, in a link pod, in your own body. It was blurry at first and then it all shifted, becoming entirely clear. Your eyes followed the lights as the voices of Max and Norm began to ring in your ears. Norm’s hands were cradling your head trying to get you to sit up in the link pod as Max was shining a flashlight in your eyes as if he had been trying to coax you back for hours. Their voices flooded your system and it felt so foreign at first but only for a second. 

“That’s it, kid,” Norm said, slapping your cheek lightly, “Come on back.” 

You blinked a couple of times and as you did your chest rose and fell from a deep breath as if you were grasping onto the oxygen trying to get in as much as you could. You coughed a couple of times.

Max turned the flashlight off, “That’s it.”

“You okay?” 

You looked over at Norm and nodded almost as if you were unsure of the answer yourself. They helped you sit up with your legs swinging over the edge of the link pod while your hand rubbed your forehead like you were getting rid of a headache. 

“What happened out there?” Max asked, his tone filled with worry, “Is the avatar safe?” 

You cleared your throat, “Yeah. It’s safe.” 

Norm shared a glance with Max, “Well where is it?” 

“It's with the Omatikaya people in the village.”

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 3

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 4.8k | prev | chapter 4 | m. list | read on ao3

Sometimes days can pass by pretty slowly in the League. It takes time for a good plan to come together. 

Today is one of those days. 

You’re sitting at the bar, fiddling with your given phone and customizing the home screen when someone slaps a paper down on the counter, startling you from your task.

You glance up and of course, it’s Shigaraki. It’s hard to fight the eye roll, loaded and ready, but you do — the photo on the paper catches your eye instantly. 

All too familiar eyes meet yours. 

Same hair, same nose, same mouth. 

It’s you. 

Your eyes widen as you glide over the words printed above your photo. 

Missing Person. 

You feel the pricks of panic trail its way up your spine as you read the words below your photo.

Have you seen me?

There was no way. 

“Where did you get this?” Your voice feels foreign as you fall into the sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety is beginning to spread throughout your mind and it is taking a lot to remain still. Even though it feels like an impossible task, you try to calm your rapid breathing, hoping that this was some kind of sick joke.

Shigaraki just shrugs, watching your every move as he takes his own seat in the barstool next to you. “All over. These posters are everywhere right now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “What…”

“I didn’t know your father was the lead detective over the city.” His tone is light and airy as he taps at his phone. Shigaraki’s concentration is deep in the search, but his movements are relaxed — too relaxed for your liking. “That’s impressive.”

Shigaraki seems to find what he is looking for as he turns the phone in your direction. A news article with your face below the headline. 

“He’s staging it as a break and enter gone wrong,” he continues, “said they knocked him out and took you away. He’s been in the hospital recovering for a few weeks now.” 

You are rendered speechless. He is not dead. Your father is alive and well and he is looking for you. 

“Wanna see the press conference?” Shigaraki’s question rings in your ears as he holds the screen up to your face, pinky and index fingers extended as the others clutch the device. 

You don’t, but you can’t bring yourself to speak, nor could you shake your head and deny. A morbid curiosity within you wants to see though. It wants to know everything happening outside of these walls. 

Shigaraki is pulling the screen up before you could refuse — taking your shell shocked silence as permission. 

(Maybe he knew, deep down, that you wanted to see, to know your reality in its entirety.) 

Sure enough, there was your father — bandages wrapped around his head and in his detective uniform you knew so well. He stood at a podium, two of his colleagues beside him as he read off of a paper in front of him. 

Your father speaks of criminals and senseless violence, he speaks of the injustice done to him and his family and how he will work day and night to make sure those responsible will pay and that you will be brought home safe and sound.

It’s so heartfelt you almost believe it. 

If it weren't complete bullshit. 

You knew the truth. You know exactly what happened that night and how it all went down.

He is a monster in his own right. One that puts on a front of the caring guardian, but you know so much better.

The truth of it all makes you nauseous.

“And to my precious daughter,” his voice rings through the speakers of the phone, “We will find you and we will bring you home. That’s a promise.”

The video ends there and the screen goes black, revealing your own troubled reflection in the glass.

“He’s going to find me,” your voice shakes as Shigaraki locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket, “I don't have long.”

“He won’t.” Shigaraki is unbothered, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. 

You shake your head, knowing your father all too well. 

He is thorough in everything he does and he would leave no stone unturned until he finds you and brings you home. That cursed home you would never set foot in again. The one that haunts your dreams. 

There's heat burning at your eyes and you realize it's the sting of tears. You couldn’t cry here, not in front of villains — in front of your leader of all people. It's humiliating. 

“He will! It's only a matter of time.” Bringing a hand to your chest, you fist the fabric of your shirt, wishing it could be your heart, open and able to be ripped out of your chest just so you could stop the rapid beating—

“Let them look, but they won't find you.” His voice is calm, rational. It's certain in ways you weren't sure you could believe. “You’re with the league now — we won't let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to believe when your face is plastered on everything. When a huge search and rescue effort is being made and for all the public knows, you were being held somewhere against your will, subject to all kinds of torture. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You can only watch as Shigaraki stands from his seat, exhaling sigh on his lips as he waves you off. Clearly he had other places to be and other things to do.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” he offers, and you note that it's barely nightfall, but say nothing. Lost in a daze as you stare at your feet, tears threatening to fall and humiliate you further. 

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki commands and the apparition nods, opening a warp gate. You can tell by the familiar bedding beyond the portal that it leads to your room. 

“We will keep an eye on the situation and make further plans tomorrow.” He announces passively as he walks off, passing by the warp gate and leaving through the door. 

The gate will save you a trip of walking through the borderline endless tunnels, and you’re grateful. All you wanted was the safety of your room. 

You waste no time walking through and sighing in relief as the portal closes behind you. 

There was no chance of anyone coming into your room here, but you move to lock your door anyway — the extra layer of security makes you feel safe.

Your mind swam in the overwhelming feelings, drowning your thoughts in fear and anxiety. 

It just couldn’t be. The idea of killing your father was beginning to sound much more manageable than the reality. 

And his press conference?

The bed greets you with its comfort and you bury your face into your hands, tears finally escaping and sobs fighting their way through your staggered breaths. 

It was all bullshit. 

The break and enter, the kidnapping and the promise of finding you.

He wants you back, but not for a friendly reunion. No, the day he finds you again will be the day you are better off dead.

Everything else said is just fluff for the media and crowd. 

But you knew better. It is an intimidation tactic for you. 

A way to weed out the possibilities of hiding with a good civilian. Any good civilian would take their chance to bring you back to your seemingly loving home and surely loving father. It was a chance for an ordinary person to be a hero and reunite family together from a tragic event. 

Bullshit. 

The man is abusive. In every way possible and he will take advantage of any benefit given to him. He was nothing more than a shady cop who just so happened to play his cards right and work his way to the top of the food chain. 

The idea of someone so cruel being on a team of detectives makes your stomach curl as the sobs you so desperately held tight echo throughout your small room. 

It's just not fair.  

Why should you have to pay the price for wanting freedom? 

The question haunts you as you lie your head down onto the pillows, quiet gasps of your easing sobs filling the room. Your new blankets have always seemed warmer than the ones from your old home. You hold them tight and pray that Shigaraki is good on his word and strong in his promises. 

If they cannot find the most wanted criminal in the country then there was no doubt they would not find a missing girl. 

You would have to place your faith into this group. It’s the only thing you can do for now and the uncertainty of it all only makes you feel worse. 

The uncertainty of it all weighs on your mind as you pray your troubled thoughts won’t catch up to you in the form of nightmares.

———

The meeting of the day is brief and to the point. 

Since the media is plastering your face everywhere, it is best for you to stay back at the base. It's not much different from what you had been doing, but still informative for the other members around you. 

However, after the meeting you run into a small problem.

A small, blonde and enthusiastic problem.

“Just come with me, please!” Toga is loud as she bounces in place with her fists clenched in excitement. The wild smile on her face makes you take a small step back from her. “It won't take long!”

She was so young, but so… odd. You weren't sure what to make of her. “They just told us I can’t leave.”

“It’s not out in the open! Let me show you!”

You sigh and look around, no one is paying any attention to this scene Toga is causing, which leads you to believe that this must be a common occurrence for her. 

Even Shigaraki gives no reaction, only focused on his newspaper and you assume it must not be much of a problem if he doesn’t care. 

Well, if he doesn’t see a problem in Toga dragging you around, then you suppose it can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, you shrug and agree. 

Toga does not hide her excitement, cheering and waving to Kurogiri. 

“Kurogiri! Will you do the honors, please?” She asks the man behind the counter and he agrees, opening a gate and Toga wastes no time grabbing your hand, pulling you through. 

The gate leads you to an empty field. So much for not being out in the open. 

There’s a sinking feeling of unease making itself present as Toga lets your hand go. 

It lingers as she walks on, fully expecting you to follow her along to wherever she deemed so important to show you. Against your better judgment, you follow her, believing in your heart that you were both in the League so there was no reason not to trust her. 

But…

The entire situation is odd. Even as you look around the field and see that it is as vast as it is empty, you know that something is off. The girl only hums a tune, completely content with leading you nowhere. 

“Hey, healer,” Toga starts, continuing her pace ahead as you begin to lag behind — your thoughts catching up with you and making you slow. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever dream?”

The question makes your brows furrow as you watch from a distance. She seemed so carefree.

It makes you ponder as you find the words to respond, “No, not really. If I do, I won’t remember them.” 

You may not dream, but you do have nightmares from time to time.

They haunt you when you least expect it, but you would rather not share that with a girl who made venomous snakes look good on a bad day. Instead you try to focus on what’s around you. The field is as green as it is empty, and it only makes you wonder more why you were brought out here — wherever ‘here’ even was in the first place. 

It’s all unusual. 

You look back at the girl and notice she’s stopped walking, causing you to catch up with her.

“Hey, Toga, where are we going anyw—“

Your words are cut short as she turns on you, the silver gleam of a knife in her hand now against your throat. 

“I dream, too! But I remember mine,” Her eyes are glassy as she smiles in delight, the look on her face makes you more on edge than the knife against your throat. “I dream of a world I can live freely in. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The question sounds rhetorical but you bring yourself to nod anyway, swallowing your fear and you can't help but wonder what deity you’ve pissed off to have ended up in this situation. 

She pulls the knife back and it feels like you can breathe again, only to be put back on edge as she lunges towards you. 

It’s a reflex, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bring your arms up to defend yourself from an oncoming attack, but you do. Only to be met with nothingness. 

Toga presses a hand to your shoulder, using the momentum she gained to jump up and over your head. 

The action makes you pause, but you don’t get any time to question as the swift print of a shoe kicks you right in the back, making you fall to your knees onto the ground.

You feel it then, the unease you’ve noticed since walking through the warp gate. 

You are weak. 

You are small and fragile and it burns at your throat as you grit your teeth in frustration. The idea of being taken down by a child is so fucking frustrating it makes you sick. 

The press of Toga's shoe against your back feels like it holds the weight of the world within it. 

Every ounce of inadequacy falls upon your back as you curse under your breath. But just as soon as the weight is there, it is gone. Lifted away as she comes to stand in front of you — extending a hand with a smile no longer wicked, but warm. 

“Living in this world is hard, you know? It looks like it’s been hard for you too.”

Her words make you still, your eyes meeting Toga’s hand and then dragging up to meet her eyes as well. You decide to take her hand in yours, allowing her to help you to your feet, even though you are still wary of her movements. 

“To me, you’re like… a caged bird.” She continues, making a point to keep your hand in hers. “But now you’ve opened the cage and you still won’t fly! That just won’t do.”

It’s difficult to place this feeling in your chest, this string tugging at your heart as you purse your lips, unable to speak as she goes on. 

“I love the league. It’s my home. The one place where I can truly be free and do whatever I want.” She looks far away as she speaks, eyes staring off at the now setting sun, illuminating the field in orange and pink hues as she smiles fondly. “I love Jin and Dabi and even Tomura! They’re my friends.”

Her attention is back on you as she brings her hands to your face, cradling your cheeks in her small palms like you were the one needing comfort and not the other way around. 

“And I love you, too, little bird!” Toga pulls you into a hug then and it is as warm as it is strange. The action shocks you still, you can’t recall the last time you had been hugged. “I’ll help you fight.” 

Toga’s voice is soft as she continues, words dripping with honesty, “The League will help you spread your wings. You’ll fly with us.”

You lean into her touch and think maybe, just maybe, you’re right where you need to be. 

———

The scene to greet you both at the bar is a strange one. It makes you raise a questioning brow as you walk through the warp gates. 

A rare sight of Spinner and Shigaraki, in a deep discussion, that is somewhat shy of an argument over what seemed to be a video game. 

“No, no, no! He is not the best at that! It’s Little Mac!” Spinner is at the counter of the bar, seated next to Shigaraki, his scaled fingers jabbing into the counter beside them. 

Shigaraki seems unbothered, an assessment you can only make by the posture he held and relaxed form. You couldn’t make out any kind of expression behind the hand covering his face. 

“That’s dumb. He’s easily countered by Ness.” He supplies and this answer only seems to frustrate Spinner more. The latter groaning and desperately pleading his case. 

You can’t help the way a smile tugs at your lips as you walk towards the counter yourself, hoping Kurogiri would supply you with more of that fizzy clear soda you enjoyed. 

“Hey, healer!” Spinner calls, making you snap your head towards him. “Tell him! Little Mac could beat any competitor with no trouble if you’re skilled enough at playing him!” 

You fight the frown making its way onto your face. “Um…” This was about a game, you’re sure but the name of it eludes you. “Is this that fighting game that came out a while ago?”

Spinner is enthusiastic as he nods, just happy you recognize it. “Yes!” 

“Oh, um,” your brows furrow as you try to remember the details of it, but it’s fuzzy in your mind. “I don’t really remember much, but I always played as the character with the blue dress. My father said games like that rot your brain, though, so he took the console before I could really get good at it, sorry.” 

The memory makes you huff a bitter laugh, mood souring at the idea of a fun game potentially ruining your young mind. “Gotta make sure dad’s keep their daughters’ undivided attention at all times, right?”

The comment was more towards yourself — thinking out loud, really. But the feeling of all eyes on you makes you look up. 

You feel like you’ve said something wrong with the way you feel the eyes on you. Even when you let out a small awkward laugh to break the tension it remains. It makes your stomach turn as you are constantly reminded of your unusual upbringing. 

Spinner speaks first, with a look of genuine worry on his face. “That’s… not normal. Why would he do that?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” You walk past the group, forgoing the soda and instead choosing to head straight for the tunnels, eager to get out of there and more than ready to shower and go to bed. “But I think I’ll head in for the night.”

It’s a feeling you can’t outrun, you realize as you sit in the shower of the bathroom — allowing the water to run over your body and you watch as it flows down the drain. 

You wish so badly things were different. That you could have been a normal child with a normal upbringing and a normal life. 

But that just hadn’t been in the cards for you. 

You tuck your head down into your hands as your thoughts spun around you. Toga's words invade your mind, swimming around in your head and you agree with them. 

You were just like a caged bird. 

And even though that door is open, you know exactly what lies outside of it. You know exactly who is watching and waiting for you to take the bait, to come out and risk capture again. The repercussions of escape this time may be much more dire than before and you just couldn’t take that chance. 

The warm water of the shower masked the tears running down your face, but nothing could cover the burn of them. The way they sting at your eyes as you fight to maintain composure. 

You know exactly why your father took the console from you. Some shitty reasoning lying beneath the real issue of how much attention you were putting towards it instead of towards him. 

It was bullshit.

It makes you feel sick. 

—------------

Everything feels more peaceful at night. 

It’s a comfort you didn’t expect to find here in the league but it is a welcomed one. 

The days can feel long but the nights are calm. Even though more than a few of the members are working throughout the night, you are safe to relax and enjoy them. You’ve even started filling your bookshelves. It’s only three books for now but they keep you entertained. 

Even when your leader pays you a visit, you don't feel afraid. 

Tonight Shigaraki is your patient and he is as quiet as the night. The lack of disembodied hand daunting his face is obvious as the pale moonlight lit the room — bathing his natural features in a soft light. 

You’ve learned that there seems to be more than meets the eye when it comes to Shigaraki. 

He never asked more than he needed to know, his eyes never lingered.

Tomura Shigaraki had goals and his focus was undoubtedly on them at all times. It made you feel… safe. Like you weren’t a burden indebted to him. Like you had autonomy. 

Never anything you had at home. 

No one in the league really bothered you or impeded into your space. It was refreshing. It’s why you feel the boldness within you that gives you the strength to ask,

“Why did you send Toga to train me?”

The question breaks through the stillness of the room, catching Shigaraki by surprise, but his expression stays neutral — only opting to raise his eyes from the ground and meeting yours. 

The question seems to pull him from his own deep thoughts. His eyes were carmine red and they seemed to glow in the light of the moon. The intensity of them makes you want to shy away. 

“She seemed like a good fit.” 

“Is it because she’s a girl?” You feel emboldened in the space of your room. The door, forever cracked, allows more light to bleed into the area. 

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s because she can fight.”

Silence. 

You move to heal the next area, a cut along his arm. He went out into the field today and didn’t come back unscathed. 

“Does that bother you?” His question surprises you and it shows on your face. 

You shake your head, it doesn’t. “No, it’s fine.”

He hums in acknowledgment. There’s an awkward air to the space now, but you’re sure it’s only on your end. Your nerves prickle as you work on his arm, past his deadly palms. 

“She did pull a knife on me though.”

 “That damn brat.” He huffs a little sigh. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out after. Shook me a little though.” You pause taking in the calm of the room. “Thank you.”

He looks surprised, the small tick of his brow giving the expression away. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said… and my father.” You look down, focusing your gaze along the arm you’re healing. His skin is so pale. You were so close. “I never thought I would get the chance to stand against him, or even fight him. But… I want to be able to if it comes down to that.” 

Shigaraki says nothing and you aren’t sure he’s even heard you, yet you go on, speaking the most you have since you’ve gotten here. “I think in any situation, I want to be strong. I want to try to stand on my own. Working with Toga is a good choice, I believe.” 

You swallow, nerves catching up to you and it’s a wonder you’ve said this much. You don’t know where these words are coming from, but you can’t help but wonder if you should have probably kept them to yourself.

“That’s good to know.” 

His voice surprises you, causing your eyes to look up and meet vermillion. It sends heat spreading along your face and you feel stuck — frozen in place as his gaze locks you into a trance. 

Shigaraki is not bad to look at once he no longer had his face fully covered. You can’t help but wonder if it’s inappropriate to think of your leader as cute. Handsome, even. 

Lately he has shown you something akin to kindness, but you know better than to let your guard down. He is still a villain. A villain with goals of taking down society. 

But…

He could be kind. You feel desperate to find some kind of connection in this new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re not sure what pulls you towards your leader — be it the promise of safety or guidance it just does.

You break out of the trance you’d found yourself in moving along to the battered bruises along his upper arm. 

“Also… is Spinner always like that?” The question falls and the corner of your mouth ticks up in a small smile. 

This piques his interest. “Like what?”

“Nerdy. Ecstatic about video games.” 

Shigaraki huffs a laugh, barely there and light. A blow of air from his nose and nothing more. “Yeah. He’s kind of a weirdo.” 

You laugh at this, words falling before your brain can catch them. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You instantly regret it, freezing your motions and wondering if you’ve made a mistake. 

Shigaraki actually laughs. It’s short and shallow and rings in your ears. You decide you like it and would do anything to hear more of it.  “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.” 

It’s silly, really. The way you would take any crumbs of generosity after years of the opposite. Years of violation and violence can never compare to consistent kindness and respect.

When you feel your cheeks flush at the sound of Shigaraki’s laugh you feel strange. The feeling makes you remember a quote you had read from one of your mother’s old poetry books. 

Something about silver spoons and knives. 

But still, you want to indulge the feeling. 

“Hey, Shigaraki?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes meeting yours again. It makes you focus on anything else, the ground is your subject for now. 

“Do you think the investigation will go anywhere?”

“No, they have nothing in their corner.” He’s confident, and continues, “guys like that are full of shit.” 

The bluntness surprises you, though it's not unwelcome. “You think so?”

He scoffs at this, “Yeah, it’s all for show. There are no criminals and he’s hiding something deeper behind the pretense of you going missing. If they dug closer into the issue, they would find his lies. He wouldn’t want that.”

You nod in agreement, and for the first time you feel yourself relax a little. Shigaraki was not only sure, but he had the reasoning to back it up. The confidence made you feel warm — glad you were not in this alone. 

“Got anything else for me?” You ask, the hint of a smile sneaking onto your lips as you finish your healing. Shigaraki shrugs, shaking his head as he moves to stand. 

You don’t know how you hadn’t seen it before but there’s a bandage around his hand. Wrapped tight and kind of sloppy, you reach for it before you think about it, your innate need to help bleeding through at the worst times. 

This was perhaps the first mistake you’ve made since joining the league. 

Shigaraki’s reaction tells it all. His movements are fast and sharp. 

The way he recoils from your touch makes you think you’ve burned him. Shigaraki is on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair he previously sat on backwards and sending it tumbling to the ground. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you try to reach out again, an apology quick on your lips, but he’s far away from you now — more than an arms length away and ready to put more distance between you two.

“Don’t,” his voice is low and his glare is sharp, if you didn’t know any better you would think the rise and fall of his chest was from panic instead of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

It hits you then and you curse your carelessness.

His hands.

You almost touched his hands, without a care in the world — just wanting to help your leader out and fully heal whatever you could. 

You were so close to danger, so careless.

“Shigaraki, I—” You don’t get to finish your thoughts, already lost to the open and slam of your bedroom door. The air of the room is quiet and still, the only reminder of his presence being the overturned chair left behind. 

The silence rings in your ears as the distressed expression on Shigaraki’s face replays in your mind. For someone supposedly so cold to react so strongly to the smallest possibility of accidentally activating his quirk makes you wonder what else lies beneath your leader's layers. 

It makes you wonder just who Tomura Shigaraki is. 

[emo-trash101]

hiya ! its 🦈 anon

Could I req the male reader x drunk stone but instead its switched? ((oneshot, btw)) stone having to take care of drunk reader 💀

take your time + no pressure! have a good day/noon/evening :)

- 🦈 anon

Yay, I missed youuu! And yes ofc I would love to do that! Also sorry this took so long to post 😭😭

Alcohol Tastes Better Than Tears

Stone x Drunk! Reader

Pronouns: second person, gender neutral

Word count: 575

Tw: Alcohol, vomit

Today sucks. In fact, you've had a terrible day. First you blow the whole robbery on your own, and then you can't even steal an apple to make your friends feel remotely better about how horrible you've done. You've given up on being good at anything at this point.

You look down at your hand, staring at the bottle Stone handed you after the heist. You think he just felt bad and wanted to do something nice? But it honestly made you just feel worse. You feel so terrible that not even alcohol could fix it. Well it wouldn't hurt to try you think to yourself and before you know it you're putting the bottle up to the lips and taking a small sip.

That one sip turned into 2 sips, then 3 sips, then 4. Then that turned into you barely holding an empty bottle and trying to prop yourself up on the wall of whatever building you were next to. Your eyes flutter shut softly, as exhaustion hits you like a fright train with a vendetta.

You wake up to the clatter of a bottle and a male voice going "God...what the hell happened to you?". You force your eyes open and lay your eyes upon...an emo? "Whaa~...?" You say, trying to sit up more properly. All you hear in return is a sigh and a crisp "You're drunk". The man leans down to try to help you up before you push him away. "I dont evin know u" You say, your words slurring very aggressively.

"Oh god...my names Stone, we're...friends." He says, the worst friends looking like it's paining him to say, "I'm taking you back to the others".

That led to him trying to lift you up even slightly, which sounded almost completely impossible because your entire body felt like it was filled with lead. But eventually after you almost falling on your ass several times, he was finally able to force you up and being semi able to walk.

"I feel gross..." You say, leaning against Stone as he leads you through the streets. You hadn't even realized it got this dark. "Please don't vomit on me." He says, and almost on cue, you bed over and vomit. "Bloody hell..." He says, trying to prop you upright and continue to drag you away.

After about an hour of him dragging you after you vomiting (because he has the body strength of a malnourished owl) you both finally reach the alleyway, where he essentially drops you on the ground and you immediately pass out. As he grabs a nearby rag and places it on you, Vinnie leans against a wall. "Stone, is that really a good way to treat your crush?" She says smirking to herself.

He glares at her aggressively before speaking "They're not my crush." he says angrily. He stands upright and looks at her. "I'm just teasing, make sure you don't stay up late lovebirds." she says, the last part barely audible and then walks away.

He sighs and sits down next to your unconscious body, glancing down at you to make sure you're still breathing. Maybe...maybe I should tell them he thinks to himself before looking at the ground and noticing, something on his shoes. "IS THAT FUCKING VOMIT!"

Idk if this is any good, but I hope it is 😭

[catiecat1320]

Sonadowtober Prompt 13: Alternate Era

Sonic finds himself back in the world of Camelot... with Shadow tagging along

SatBK story! Not particularly proud of this one, but it'll have to do

Read Below 🔽

“WHOAAAA—!” 

Sonic didn’t expect to be falling, again. It’s like he can’t keep his face out of the dirt for a day, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepares for impact.

That is, until his arm is nearly jerked out of its socket as someone latches onto his wrist, stopping him mid-fall.

“Good Gaia, Hedgehog. Do you not have an ounce of self preservation in your body?”

Shadow?

He’s never been tossed through a portal with someone else before, but he supposed it would make sense given they’d been racing.

The striped hedgehog slowly lowered them, his rocket skates countering gravity’s pull. “You are perfectly capable of landing safely by yourself, yet you choose to slam into the ground, face first, every time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Sonic grumbled. He didn’t have to be so mean about it.

“Do you know where we are?” Shadow asks as he places them on the ground, surveying their surroundings. It was a pretty nondescript patch of land, but Sonic had the almost magical ability to know where they are at all times. The perks of having run the world through at least a dozen times, he supposed.

“Uh, dude, we got dropped through a portal in the sky,” Sonic points out. “We could be in a whole new dimension, for all I know, why are you asking…? Wait, wait, wait.” He spins in a quick circle, the gears in his head turning like mad. “Portal in the sky… I know this place!”

Thought so. “Where are we?”

“In Camelot!” Sonic beams. “I’ve been here before!”

Shadow squints at him like he lost his head. “Camelot?”

“Yeah! From King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?”

“...We’re in a book,” the striped hedgehog deadpans, sure that the other is messing with him. But Sonic is perfectly unfazed by the impossibility of what he just said, seeming excited as he grabs Shadow’s arm and pulls him along.

“Yeah! Come on, I gotta show you—”

Shadow yanks his hand away, stopping Sonic in his tracks. “We can’t be in a book. Or a myth. King Arthur is a myth.”

A myth. There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, prodding at the unsaid. Sonic chooses not to tell the secret. Yet. “Dude, you’re literally part alien. I don’t think being in a book is the craziest thing to happen to you,” he says instead. “But if you’re shocked by that, you might wanna buckle up, because they get a lot crazier.”

That’s not exactly reassuring, but Shadow begrudgingly accepts. He lets Sonic lead the way, not bothering to ask where their destination was. He doubts the hedgehog would tell anyway. From his familiarity with their surroundings, he didn’t seem to be lying when he said he’s been here before.

But Shadow just can’t wrap his head around how or why they would be in Arthurian legend. They weren’t doing anything remotely related to it at all before a portal opened under their feet and spat them out here.

“We’re here!”

Shadow barely manages to avoid crashing into the blue hedgehog. “Where?” he mutters, if only to save face. But that didn’t seem to be needed, for Sonic’s attention was completely occupied by something else.

Or rather, someone else.

“Lance!”

A knight clad in armor turns toward them. Instantly, Shadow’s jaw drops, as does theirs. Sonic’s blissfully oblivious of their shock, or perhaps he’d expected it, excitedly bouncing over.

The knight drops to a knee upon their approach. They looked… like an exact copy of Shadow, right down to the bright red stripes in upturned quills. He was so occupied in this Lance’s similarity to him that he failed to consider why they would kneel in front of them. Or specifically Sonic.

Lance didn’t keep him ignorant for long. “Your Majesty.”

Shadow twitches. “...Your what?”

Sonic grins sheepishly as he motions for Lance to stand up, nervousness in his gestures. “I thought I said to call me Sonic.”

“Sire—” They’re cut off by Shadow, who’s interjection snaps Sonic’s attention back on him.

“What is this about? Why did he call you Your Majesty? That’s the title for monarchs.”

“Precisely,” Lance answers instead. They extend an armored hand at Sonic, as if introducing him. “His Majesty King Arthur, Wielder of Excalibur, Ruler of Camelot, Knight of the Wind.”

“Lancelot—! Don’t.” Sonic stammers. Despite the unconfidence in his voice, the knight stiffens at his order.

“Apologies, sire. It will not happen again.”

“Lance…”

“What the hell is going on?!” Both of them turn to Shadow, who feels like he’s going to explode with the amount of information being thrown at him. He stares Sonic in the eyes and points to his otherworldly doppelganger. “Lancelot.”

“...yes?”

“As in Sir Lancelot, Knight of the Lake.”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Why does he look exactly like me?”

“Uh…” Sonic pauses, tilting his head. “Dunno. He’s probably wondering that too. It’s just a thing here I guess.”

“What do you mean, it’s just a thing here?!” Shadow shouts, utterly confused in a way he hates. “You know what, forget that. When did you get knighted? When did you become king? King Arthur, no less? How is that even possible?”

“Um… I dunno. Last time I came here I pulled a sword from a stone, and after that whole adventure I was declared the true King Arthur. Makes no sense but the kingdom accepted it.”

“And you did too?”

“I mean, I kinda had to. I did kill their previous king.”

“You WHAT?!”

“Look—”

“Your M… Sonic,” Lancelot interrupts quietly. “Perhaps you and your guest should relocate somewhere more private?”

“I’m not his guest,” his counterpart snaps. Sonic waves his hand in front of Shadow’s face cartoonishly, as if it’d wipe what he said out of existence.

“Ignore Shadow, he’s always like that. We’ll find somewhere in the castle.” He then grabs his fuming rival’s arm and drags him along. They’re almost by the entrance when he turns back. “You wanna come, Lance?”

“...Certainly, sire.”

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: The more I write, the more I wish that this man would snatch my ass up

Chapter 11: Godswood

You finished your dinner quietly with your parents, excusing yourself for a walk. You could feel the anxiety pouring off of your mother in waves, causing thick tension in the room.

You had sensed your father wished to be alone with her in order to calm her, and so you left them both, bidding them a good night. You did not miss the way your mother relaxed when Prince Daemon held both of her hands turning his body completely to her as you left.

You walked along the dark corridors lit by flames aimlessly. It was your first time out of your room in many days, and it felt good to not be confined in your chambers.

The evenings air was neither cool nor hot, but a perfect temperature so that you weren’t needing a cloak, or your dress to be something more lightweight. Though on occasion a small breeze would roll through the Keep, its icy tendrils caressing the skin that was bare.

As you walked, you let your thoughts run away from you. If your mother was right, Alicent was readying to question you and your brother's claim again, and a war would surely break out.

Yet, if your father was right, that means that King Viserys would keep you all safe. Though you could not rely on your Grandsire for long, his illness sadly starting to take him closer to meeting The Stranger.

In all your life you did not think that Alicent would ever question you, but your mother must have a good reason for doing so. If Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne was challenged, then Aegon would be crowned King, and that would surely doom all Seven Realms to be ruled by a drunken and violent fool. Your mothers supporters would need to advocate for her, and do it quickly. The thought of this made your stomach tie up in knots. 

Your anxiety seemed to guide you to the Godswood, a place where you could feel at ease. You walked lightly towards the tree, brushing your hand gently against it. Leaning forward you pressed your forehead against the bark and exhaled a deep breath, asking it to take your worries from you.

You looked up through its branches and leaves to the night sky, stars glittering high above you, providing natural light alongside the moon. You prayed to the Old Gods, begging they protect your brothers and mother. Asking them to not let Alicent and the Hightower's win their war upon you. 

Walking along the trunk you sat down in your favourite spot, curling your legs up towards you and resting your head against your knees. A headache began to form. You wished to be back on Dragon Stone away from this all. You longed to be on Sȳndor’s back, high above the ground feeling the wind rush past you. 

He was the third largest dragon known, and one of the oldest. You had claimed him at a young age, singing the song your father Daemon had taught you. He resided on Dragon Stone and had kept to himself, the ever elusive pitch black shadow, hence his name.

Sȳndor had never been claimed before you nor ridden, but bonded with you quickly. The dragon keepers said you had a gift, but you believed that no-one had given him the respect he had deserved. He was large, almost the size of Vhagar and completely black. His eyes were like flames, and when he flew it was almost impossible to see him at night. The love you held for your dragon was not easily explained, he was you and you were him.

Leaning back against the wood you shut your eyes and breathed deeply. Thinking of Sȳndor had lightened your mood, and you felt your anxiety slowly drift away from you. You began to hum the song again, playing gently with the sleeve of your dress, the repetition calming your nerves.

You remembered as a child of how proud your father had been when you had bonded with Sȳndor. Daemon claiming your voice to have magic unknown to mortal men. A siren he said.

The hair on your arms raised as you felt eyes on you. That slimey feeling of being watched making your feet twinge. You had a visitor.

Not bothering to open your eyes, you called out to the darkness,

“I know you are there. I can feel you watching me.” You spoke calmly as if bored.

“Aōt vāedan, Hae mērot gierūli, Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī”  (To you I sing, As one we gather, And with three heads, We shall fly as we were destined, Beautifully, freely) A low timbre sang back.

Stepping out of the shadows your uncle moved into the light.

“A dragon's song. Tell me niece, who are you attempting to tame?” He drawled, eye dragging up your body. 

Untucking your legs, you stretched them forwards leaning higher against the tree. 

“There are no dragons here to tame, uncle.” You state, softly brushing your skirts down your legs.

“Here? Perhaps, but I can think of at least one.” His eye followed your movements, travelling slowly to your face.

“You’ve already claimed Vhagar, there are no others.” You spoke dully.

“I speak not of Vhagar. She was claimed a long time ago. But there are many dragons waiting to be tamed,” He hummed, “and claimed, but they’re out on Dragon Stone.” 

He walked forward towards you keeping his distance, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

“Ah, then you must be referring to The Cannibal,” You tucked hair behind your ear, “you have so much in common.”  

You knew you should not goad him, but it was too easy. everything about him made you want to lash out, cutting him with tiny blades. A death of a thousand cuts.

“And why is that zaldrītsos?” (little dragon), He pronounced slowly, taking another slow step forward. 

Light cast across his face. He wore his patch and his hair was completely loose of braids, the front tucked behind his ears. He wore another set of dark black leather pants and vest, his coat firmly on his shoulders.

Tonight he did not have his sword with him. 

“You are both monsters.” You said flatly, as if you were stating a mere fact, something that you had read in a book.

“Hmm. Because of my eye? Your brothers gifted me this.” You could see his anger begin to simmer. 

“You mean to kill other dragons.” You rushed with anger, and with this you saw his lip curl up in a smirk. 

“I don’t wish to kill any dragons,” He took another step closer this time, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watched your face, eye flicking down to your lips then back up, 

“but I may just devour you.” He finished, smirk travelling higher up his face.

You felt your heart beating against your ribs, the feeling of ice cold water running down your head and body. You breathed heavily, thinking of how to reply.

“Are you here to take my eye again?” You sarcastically spat at him. A full smile gracing his face.

Looking at his lips you realised you had never noticed just how sharp his teeth looked. Your mothers words echoed in your head.

“Hmm.” No reply, just his irritating hum.

“Are you just going to hum?" You sighed.

“Aōha laes iksis ȳgha, zaldrītsos” (Your eye is safe, little dragon) He replied flatly, his smirk slowly disappearing from his face.

“Pār skoros gaomagon jaelā hen nyke?” (Then what do you want from me?) You hissed, leaning forward.

“I am merely trying to spend time with my niece. It has been years after all,” He began, voice thick with false offence. The One-Eyed Prince stepped closer once more as he finished, 

“and I have missed her.” 

“You taunt me.”

“On the contrary niece, you taunt me. When have you met my questions with answers that did not mock?” He had you there.

“You have terrorised me and expect kindness? You call me bastard and expect smiles?”

“Have you met future suitors?”  The change in conversation was abrupt and had your mind reeling.

“Suitors?” 

“Yes,” Aemond replied, coming close enough that his shoes touched the edge of the tree's roots. The older man looked up into the branches, long neck stretching as his sharp face was illuminated by the moons glow.

“Suitors are men who come to-“

“I know what suitors are.” You snap,

“Gīda aōla, byka mēre,” (Calm yourself, little one,) The Prince tucked his head to look back down at you, his height towering over yours, 

“You are of an age now where I believed suitors would be lined down Dragon Stone for the chance at your hand.” He scoffed.

“Whether I have or have not suitors is no concern of yours, uncle.” Your thread was fraying.

“T'was merely a question. My sister and brother having married already and your two younger brothers being betrothed, I assumed there was someone back at the Dragons Den waiting for you.”

It was your turn to scoff, arms coming to cross in front of you.

“Perhaps not a man then….” He trailed off.

“Neither a man nor a woman are waiting for me at home, uncle.” You sigh, perhaps this was Aemond trying to have a conversation after all. You truly did not know the man before you, his actions and motives were a mystery.

“Have you ever kissed a man, zaldrītsos?” (little dragon).

Huffing a breath you respond, “Have you?”

“Hmm.”

He looks down at your lips once more, tongue wetting his lips once more and leans into your space. Eye trailing over your body, his lip twitching as though he was to speak once more, but then leaning back he hums again. 

You search his face, looking for answers for his sudden shift.

“Sleep well, Princess.” And with that he turned and walked back into the shadows.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen

[prettysweetprettysweet]

I spend so much time dwelling on whether there was any sincere sorrow from Lestat in the story we were told, which is almost certainly pointless but I'm vindictive and hold grudges and always crave vengeance and feel an enormous amount of righteous indignation on Louis' behalf, so at this point for me the single most spiritually and emotionally satisfying thing that could happen in season two is Lestat truly recognizing all the pain he's caused and becoming completely dismantled by the weight of his guilt (and in a way that affords him absolutely no sympathy!!)

on that note...the show has us assume that Lestat stowed Antoinette a town away 'by design' in a bid to be discovered and catalyze some sort of passionate reaction from Louis, that Louis' actual reaction of numbness, dissociation, and suicidality was near immediate and kept completely inside, that Antoinette was listening in during this period, and that Lestat was aware of it enough at least to opine to Claudia that Louis couldn't pick an apple in his current state and that he is in worse shape at that point than he ever was during Claudia's absence. Sam mentioned that by this time Lestat was able to hear their thoughts.

I wonder with his chronic self-absorption if he had managed to draw a line from his own actions to their impacts, if it truly registered for Lestat that through his machinations and manipulations he bent Louis so far that he broke in half, that Louis was hurting in a way and with an intensity that he had never hurt before, and that Lestat more-or-less extinguished the flame that made Louis so beautiful in the first place. Did he feel any responsibility and did it cause him sorrow? of course from the story that we've seen so far, its nearly impossible to ascertain Lestat's genuine position emotionally and mentally at any given point.

one moment that causes me to stop is the bench scene when Louis thinks to Claudia 'every night i feel a little crazier' and Lestat makes this face and rapidly jumps up to leave:

with the assumption that Lestat heard this, this could be any number of emotions: exasperation, rage, denial/evasion, fear. but i want it to be at least somewhat sadness and guilt and painful recognition of the ways he is responsible for his husband's devolution into a crazy and suicidal state, his husband who is suffering exactly like Lestat's first love Nicolas, and is increasingly indicating that he will end up exactly like him.

I'm inclined to think he is feeling guilt/sadness/worry because of the way he parts with an earnest and understated declaration of love. to me it just seems like the subtle quietness of it would be the best way to reach Louis through the fog. it's also really delicate and caring in a way that reminds me of how you might talk to a child who has the flu.

the dead look on Louis' face is devastating. I think that because Lestat knows his husband is sick, he's trying to offer warmth and reassurance and encouragement. keep going because i love you. please remember i love you.

[angelwheat]

The Mundane and the Magic

༻ a codz x reader story ༺

➶ The Giant // ❝ Self-righteous Suicide ❞

➶ Chapter Six , 1336 words

Every clock strikes three in unison, followed by a resounding chime that signifies not a positive event, but rather a monotonous signal that Richtofen had just shot his future self point-blank in the face.

The German steps off the teleporter platform, his leather boots crushing the grit as he strides forward, his expression utterly impassive as he looks down upon his older self pooling in his own blood with sheer disgust for his dastardly ways. Despite feeling a sense of mental relief at having completed the first and most crucial step in securing the betterment of the universe, he is also pleased to have eliminated a lurking horror of a man he was supposedly destined to become from his conscience.

However, it seemed that only the German perceived the positive aspect of this vengeful deed. The others stand scattered around the murder scene, none of them gratified by what they had witnessed.

“You’re sick, Richtofen.” Dempsey expresses himself assertively, with a visible look of disdain on his face that Richtofen chooses to ignore.

Richtofen countered, practically growling back at him, “I did what was necessary.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dempsey feigned his belief with a dramatic eyeroll.

Prior to this, Richtofen had finally informed them of their mission in greater detail during a time when they had a break for the night. He delved into almost all aspects of the potential outcome if they followed the plan accordingly, as well as warning them of the challenges they were yet to face, and the upheaval if things went wrong.

They all listened intently, and surprisingly with no one adding their input. Although, Richtofen knew it was difficult to sound sane when you were practically describing the collapse of the entire universe if you so much as dropped a pin at the wrong place and time.

Yet Richtofen had not fully convinced them that this current step was essential, as he always seemed too shifty in the presence of a certain someone, especially as he holds the secret that this person was informed of the basis of the plan before the rest of them.

And it was (Y/n).

The chiming of clocks briefly stilled the air when they stopped all together, instead causing an unpredictable tension to rise between the men just moments after that single bullet was fired.

Richtofen had knelt beside the corpse of his former self, and the men watched him just as (Y/n) was. Although, they chose to turn their backs when he began rummaging through the pockets of his uniform, not caring for what more he had to do.

However, (Y/n) was unable to avert her gaze, despite the horror contouring her features as Richtofen deliberately placed his hands on the body, retrieving a couple of vials from his jacket before rising and intentionally stepping over the corpse, leaving it to drown in its own blood gushing from the bullet wound between its eyes.

As Richtofen moved away from the body, his gaze fixated on her. His stare was cold, yet (Y/n) noticed a subtle change in his otherwise impassive expression as his brows furrowed slightly and his lips momentarily formed a straight line, almost conveying a sense of awkwardness or a feeble attempt at an apology for what she had unwillingly been exposed to.

But there was no time for contemplation as an alarming cacophony of hissing and screeching filled their ears, prompting everyone to assume a defensive stance.

“This building is not secure.” Nikolai asserted as he advanced, shotgun in hand. “We must go!”

His articulation was gruff due to his pronounced Russian accent, but he was undoubtedly correct. Judging by the intensity of the shrieks and piercing screams, the impending invasion of undead would render it virtually impossible for all five of them to escape unscathed.

The structural integrity of the facility had deteriorated significantly, rendering it incapable of withstanding a light snowfall. Given the extended duration of the fivesome’s occupation, which spanned weeks, the situation had become dire.

“We must relocate to higher ground.” The Russian commanded.

Recognising the gravity of the situation and the absence of alternative survival strategies, the group unanimously complied with the Russian’s directive. They promptly initiated their ascent to safer locations.

Anticipating the potential for the crew members to become separated, Richtofen issued a clear instruction. “Proceed to teleporter C! We are leaving!”

As (Y/n) navigated the perilous environment, a barricade collapsed beside her. A decayed, grasping hand emerged from the debris, narrowly missing her hair. In a swift and decisive manoeuvre, Takeo intercepted the zombie’s attack, severing the arm with a single strike of his katana.

Without pausing to express gratitude, (Y/n) swiftly joined Takeo in pursuit of the rest of the crew.

The were only few locations around the facility that were secure from ambush, albeit rather small. A few had hastily departed when the area became congested, leaving (Y/n) and Takeo to remain side-by-side.

Retreating across platforms as undead creatures charged directly at them and sprinting through corridors before hordes could encircle them from both ends caused them to perspire profusely despite the frigid temperatures.

On several occasions, they lost their footing as the sheet of ice on the ground acted as a deadly trap, and (Y/n) found herself caught when her foot slipped out from under her, causing her to stumble and fall heavily into a barricade. She was unable to break her fall and injured her arm on a piece of wood that protruded like a blade, tearing a portion of her sleeve in the process.

Takeo had observed with a flash of concern as (Y/n) scrambled to her feet, drawing his katana to protect her from the approaching zombies. Fortunately, their destination, the teleporter, was not far off.

Proceeding through an underpass, the facility situated at the rear of the premises came into clear view, where Nikolai and Dempsey were spotted clearing hordes from inside the building, presenting an opportune moment for a swift escape.

As (Y/n) glanced over her shoulder, she noticed a decrease in the number of zombies. The rapid gunfire from the two men behind her had slowed, but the horde approaching her, and Takeo remained substantial.

The crew retreated into the building, unleashing a barrage of bullets upon the seemingly endless stream of creatures.

Amidst the chaos, Dempsey’s voice boomed, “Where’s Richtofen?!”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in shock as she quickly scanned the building’s surroundings.

The Doctor’s absence caused significant distress, leading to a surge of apprehension and disturbing mental imagery involving his potential demise at the hands of the undead, hindering (Y/n)’s ability to concentrate on eliminating the imminent threat posed by the approaching hordes.

“We can’t leave without him!” She exclaimed, her voice betraying a sense of urgency. “We need to hold them off until he- “

A male figure, clad in a soiled waistcoat and shirt, emerged from a small opening within the zombie cluster, barging his way through. His attire stood out amidst the uniformity of the undead. Richtofen stumbled forward, hastily regaining his balance and inevitably kicking bullet shells as his arms flailed dramatically.

Richtofen’s appearance prompted the group to proceed towards the teleporter, but (Y/n) remained steadfast until the German reached her.

As Richtofen approached, his arm instinctively extended to guide her alongside him, to which she complied.

They arrived at the teleporter together, and Dempsey instinctively extended his hand to grasp hers, failing to notice her wounded arm as he drew (Y/n) to stand in the centre of the group. Although, his action went unnoticed as he called out,

“Get us outta here, Doc!”

Richtofen promptly activated the machine seemingly with the snap of his fingers. The device emitted a sequence of indiscernible sounds as a surge of electrical energy coursed through its intricate mechanisms, causing the ground beneath their feet to vibrate intensely. A brilliant flash of purple light enveloped them, and in an instant, they vanished, leaving only a wisp of smoke to dissipate from the machine as it transported them to an unknown destination. 

To be continued…

[trigunwritings]

Might I have some NSFW headcanons for Vash?

When it comes to any form of intimacy, Vash is especially flighty—which makes it very difficult to get a proper read on his body language, even when you have been given otherwise very enthusiastic consent. This isn’t very noticeable when fully clothed, since Vash is a rather extroverted individual to begin with. But the moment that any skin is revealed (specifically his own) he clams up completely. He doesn’t reject advances after that persay, but simply freezes up like a deer in the headlights of a barreling truck.

It isn’t hard to understand why he’s like that, given the fact that he is covered in scars from head to toe—some of them are gruesome, injuries which would have killed any normal human, while others look light but are utterly numerous and leave most of his body a canvas of painful memories. Since his normal outfit covers almost all of the scars (which is probably the point) you wouldn’t even realize that he has any until you start to peel away his layers of clothing.

To put it simply, Vash is a deeply vulnerable man with a keen sense of keeping an emotional distance from others. While he is energetic and loud in most situations, it often hides the sense of loneliness and fear that lies just behind his happy-go-lucky attitude—but its impossible to wear the same mask when he’s intimate with another person. To be close, to be touched, to be seen and understood. He can’t hide his scars nor his insecurities when under the gaze of even most oblivious lover; but if someone has gotten to that point, then Vash must trust them a great deal.

In terms of intimacy itself (and assuming you’re a person who is able to get his clothes off in the first place) it’s hard to put Vash in any particular box. To call him a switch would be rather inaccurate, as it would imply that he’s confident in taking either role with a partner. Instead he simply enjoys pleasing his partner, shoving his own comfort and preferences aside in an odd sexual interpretation of his savior complex and hoping that they don’t notice or pay too much attention to him.

Vash utterly loathes having attention placed upon him, or at least in the romantic and sexual sense, as he isn’t above acting like a complete fool for even the smallest benefit of someone else. It’s the fear of being perceived, being known. There is some part of Vash that scarcely sees himself as a person given the decades upon decades of live he has spent alone; most people he gets to know either uses, betrays, or leaves him. The few that stick around are still at the mercy of No Man’s Land and the horribly short human life span it offers—so, in short, Vash has convinced himself, at least a little bit, that he doesn’t deserve the gift of a long-lasting relationship with another person. Vash the Stampede is a legend to some, a myth to others, and an individual to none.

[bluegoist]

bachira meguru x reader | 2.21 wc

unedited & not proofread

on the first day of your first high school year, you got bored with the same introduction for the nth time. so instead, you looked out of your class’ opened window, where a view of your school’s main gate can be seen.

that’s when you first saw bachira meguru.

what was supposed to be a quick look outside (to not get caught by your teacher) turned into full spectating when you caught sight of a nameless blonde. you’re not entirely sure why he captivated your attention as much as he did; admittedly, you were not the type to not pay attention to a teacher when they’re talking, so you deduced that maybe it was a coincidence since he was late or maybe it was because he effortlessly dodged past your school’s security, just a little after he zoomed past the school gate that was being closed, looking completely at ease as he playfully grinned with his eyes while a toast hang between his closed lips that could definitely fall at any given moment.

despite the carefree, laidback attitude he exuded, he was in complete disarray—his hair a mess and his dress shirt half buttoned. and you thought that, interesting as that boy may seem, you maybe should not be getting close to him. you had the thought that you would easily be swept away if you did so.

then he looked in your direction. the eye contact startled you a little, but you didn’t have time to react except for the minuscule widening of your eyes. you may have felt your time stop, or perhaps it was his. what was more noticeable than that, however, was the fact that you felt your world shift a little, and that shift also made your heart skip a noticeable beat.

the moment, if you can even call it that, was interrupted when the boy suddenly tripped on his own feet. the impact powerful enough that you felt yourself flinch hard enough for your knees to bang loudly under your table, your own body almost moving out of your control to go jump up and save the boy (which was impossible given that he was already kissing the ground as your table rattled loudly).

you winced, knowing that knee-jerk reaction— both literally and figuratively— without a single doubt interrupted your own class.

"[last name]?" you willed yourself to look away from him, breath hitching, as the boy had not even gotten up yet.

as your teacher called your attention once more, you looked back to her, apologies on your tongue for disrupting the class all of a sudden. fortunately, you got off with only a bit of a warning. after all, it was an accident, and you were in the highest college prep section, something that definitely made you a good student by all and every standard a school has.

the bell rang, you hoped that that was the end of that encounter.

two weeks later, your middle school acquaintance badgered you to become the club manager of his team at lunchtime.

you used to be a player yourself, opting to quit during your high school to solely focus on your studies instead of juggling two responsibilities despite a promising future with the sport— your team even competing in the nationals and landing a spot in second place in the whole country.

this acquaintance, kobayashi arata-kun, was also a member of your middle school boys’ soccer team. he apparently joined the high school team in this school and remembered your amazing performance during middle school. when you informed him that you had no intention to join the girls team as a player, he instantly perked up and invited you to become a manager instead.

quickly deciding that being a manager for a sport your love has never wavered for couldn’t be a bad thing. so you accepted the offer.

that’s the second time you saw a certain honey-eyed blonde, finally putting a name to his face.

he was more dazzling up close, and it was never a loud proclamation of presence like a sudden downpour or thunderstorm; it was more like a sunshine casting its warmth over everything it touches. an influence so quiet that you almost accept as something natural.

for the entirety of the practice, you couldn’t help but be amazed at the blonde’s skills, and if you were in your normal state of mind, you would’ve overthought the reason why you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. but in your excuse, everyone was held hostage by the show he was giving for free. no one could look away from the dribbling boy.

at last, you thought that you were royally screwed.

despite your earlier reservations, bachira meguru was a hard person to avoid. in all honesty, you definitely didn’t have a chance to try hard enough, and just like your earlier reservations, you found out that anyone can be swept away by meguru if they don’t try hard enough.

you and meguru began walking home together by the second month of the first year of your high school; once he smashed through all your efforts to keep distance, you realised you walked the same way home. once that happened, you always went home together. even when meguru would make a detour and practice his soccer more.

in your second year, your team lost the prefectural qualifiers to go to the nationals.

aside from the obvious sense of defeat you should’ve felt for and with your team, you were more focused on the fact that you wouldn’t see meguru play more soccer that he enjoyed (even if this is just his second year).

and that day, you saw some of the light always surrounding him dim— it was probably an unnoticeable change, only obvious to you since not once did you ever take your eyes off of the honey eyed boy.

once the team dispersed and went home one by one and you finished checking everything you needed to check, you decided to go to a familiar place that meguru would always hide under; the abandoned bridge just sat in the middle of his home and your school.

as you approached, you heard meguru say something in a solemn voice: "maybe i really am weird."

"are you?" you calmly asked. meguru’s eyes widened with an indescribable look in them.

"huh?"

"is it weird to chase after an ideal you so desperately want?" being met with silence, you continued, "perhaps, i don’t completely understand what you’re envisioning, meguru. but... i don’t think it’s very weird for anyone to want to play a sport that’s fun. stronger players often think that way. maybe. things like they’re too slow; they won’t make it if they do this and that; it's not good enough," you were unsure if you should be saying anything to console him or if you should just stay quiet. instead, without being discouraged, you decided to just continue.

"that’s right... hmm," you paused, thinking your words over, trying to make sense of whatever it is that compelled you to keep this guy go back to being happy; not weighed down by the sheer loneliness of having no one understand the soccer he wants to play, "i once heard from a person that... only the strong have fun on the field."

"only the strong?" meguru repeated your words slowly, as if testing them out.

"mn. and that, the stronger you get, the more matches you’ll get to have; that’s even more fun soccer you’ll get to play. and once you get the chance to do all that... someone strong or even stronger will surely appear before you," taking a deep breath, you finally looked away from him to look at the setting sky instead.

"meguru, i think those types of almost miraculous chances only appear to those who are ready to grasp them," you continued, "you’re probably the most ready for that chance, aren’t you?" you smiled, a hint of sorrow at the fact that this was the only thing you could do for someone who was meant to always dazzle brightly.

"to be completely honest, i... don’t really believe you absolutely need someone who can play with you. rather than that, i guess it would definitely be ideal for someone at least at your level to be able to react to your passes. but... it’s not always necessary. you’re definitely enough to score on your own,"

"you think so?" bachira meguru couldn’t figure you out, so he kept looking at you, as you got lost in your own thoughts and pondered your next words carefully.

"hmm... but still, i hope you get what you truly want," you looked back at him, smiling with the sincerest eyes he’s ever seen from anyone other than his own mom.

"i hope that someone strong will come find you and that you get to play the fun soccer you have always wanted and strived for."

"i hope so too,"

after a pregnant silence and just basking in each other’s presence, you finally got up and reached out to meguru.

"let’s walk you home, spinning bee." he grasped your hand and felt something soft on it.

"wha—" "take it. it’s something i made for you, since you loved them so much" doing so, his eyes widened.

"a... dolphin??? a dolphin keychain??? is it crocheted??? you made it????" the twinkle in his eyes seem to go back a little.

"yes. it’s just a little something i made as practice. let’s go,"

brushing arms as you finally walked together, you can’t help but be swallowed whole by your own thoughts and feelings.

you don’t exactly recall when you fell in love with bachira meguru and if you’re completely honest, you don’t seem to know the exact reason why you did so either. he was just someone who was easily likeable. and to you, the greatest form of affection is one that doesn’t need a reason.

perhaps that’s just how love is supposed to work in your perception. something inexplicable and therefore unjustifiable.

however, even that was not enough for you to selfishly profess your affection and ruin a friendship you cherish more than you thought you would. instead, you promised to take your own damned feelings to your grave and just have his back, just as you’ve always done.

despite the difference in reasoning, you and meguru both walked home together with heavy hearts in silence.

upon entering the arena for the blue lock vs. japan u-20 match, your feelings were probably beyond words or description.

in the past few days, you've caught up on the blue lock project's progress. with blue lock coming out with their own bluelocktv where they showcased practice matches and some daily trainings. with it, you saw just how meguru improved even more. furthermore, you saw just how happy he finally looked playing soccer— a feat that he has never achieved with your high school team for two entire years.

what’s even more impressive, however, is meguru’s match during their second selection. he has finally revelled in his lonely soccer and made it his own. made him even stronger.

and you wondered if a dazzling, burning sun that shines the brightest only does so when they’re alone.

looking back, just a little after you went home that day, you received a message from the boy you had just dropped off.

bachira meguru: [nickname]! i just got a letter from jfu!!! a project of some sort!!!! maybe i will finally get to play the soccer that i want!!!!!!!!!

your goodbye to meguru wasn’t anything grand. it was just a simple ‘do your best’ on your part, and a ‘then i’m off!’ in his.

as you waited for the match to start, you saw meguru’s mom out of the corner of your eye. she has her hands clasped together and seems to be focusing intently on the field, as if willing them to go faster and start the damn thing already.

the match started, and you were on the edge of your seat, berating yourself for choosing to watch the match live instead of just the recording when the intensity of the game stressed you out more than you’d like to admit.

during the halftime break, you were amused as meguru’s mom yelled at him to score. you can’t blame her, as you also wanted your own friend to show everyone his ego and score.

as the match ended, you waited until half the people were gone. you tell yourself that it’s only because you certainly did not want to get caught up in the rush of people trying to do whatever they needed to do, and not because you wanted to stay a little longer to see the person who made you see the world differently. you allowed yourself this much and continued to watch meguru from afar.

people slowly piled out.

satisfied, you finally left your seat with a smile. you willed yourself to not be greedy and just be grateful that you get to bask in the sunlight bachira meguru endlessly provided, not once looking back.

what you missed was the boy your eyes seemed to have unconsciously sought out watch as your frame got smaller and smaller before getting distracted by one of his teammates calling him.

a/n: maybe i should’ve kept this in the draft tbh. i think this was definitely rushed and like... a little ass but still, i will appreciate thoughts (and prayers T-T jk jk). this was just inspired by literally one line in this entire fic. [and you wondered if a dazzling, burning sun that shines the brightest only does so when they’re alone.] i had this entire story in mind that was super angsty and heart wrenching but i decided to not do that today hdjdjkdjd

also notice how me, a supposed nagi only blog, is doing everything EXCEPT post my nagi fics? insanity im telling u.

[yea-baiyi]

i’m sure people smarter than me have said this, but the odyssey is the sequel to the monomyth actually. in the hero’s journey the hero departs from home, from innocence, from safety, to fulfil his destiny. in homer’s the odyssey, the war is over, the destiny fulfilled. next comes the real fight, the unwinnable fight—to return to everything you left home to fight for.

in the first half of the poem, while odysseus fights tooth and nail to return home, his home fights with its last breath to give odysseus a home to return to. and time is running out. his wife penelope is down to her last desperate excuse. suitors have invaded his home, eating through his household and his wealth. his son, telemachus, almost grown, leaves home for the first time to find out if odysseus is still alive, if there is still a reason to keep fighting. having lost everything he had, over and over, odysseus is finally allowed to arrive in his homeland. at first he doesn’t recognise it. and he is cursed to look old and decrepit, so that none of his loved ones would recognise him.

for the second half of the poem, he has returned and miraculously, he has not been displaced or forgotten. but now he has to reclaim what was his. and removing the rot, restoring this place to the home odysseus remembers, is long and painful. instead of walking through the front door, he must sneak in through the back or risk being thrown out. not a single person knows him by sight; odysseus must prove his identity over and over, to every member of his household. he must retell story after story, share secret after secret, reveal every marking or scar upon his body, to finally be recognised by his own family. and then he destroys every last trace of the intruders—kills the men, kills the servants, wipes the slate clean.

by athena’s magic, he is restored to his former youth and glory as he reunites with his wife. the families of the slain suitors try to seek revenge, but zeus, lord of the skies, intervenes. odysseus, filled with his god-given strength, is home, and ready to fight to protect it.

it’s a complete sequel to the heroes journey, but what makes it part of the monomyth is the horrible truth about odysseus’ tale: that it’s impossible. that you will leave, and your home will change in your absence, and someone might fill your place; your family won’t recognise you, your wife met someone else, intruders have destroyed your home, and you will never be as young as you were. you will return and you will fight with every ounce of your strength and it won’t be enough to turn back the clock. it’s the terrible last chapter to every hero’s story that we don’t like to talk about.

and yet, of course, it’s the same story we tell over and over: we’ve won the war, now all we want is to return home, but home is no longer somewhere we can reach.

[razorblade180]

Unreal

Wanting to take a look at her land, Nahida climbs up The Great Tree for a marvelous view. It’s only when she reaches the top down she realize Aether is up there too.

Nahida:Oh? Have the two of us shared the same idea tonight? *sits*

Aether:If that’s true then I should count myself lucky I think like The God of Wisdom. Hehe, I’m just up here to take everything in since I’ll be leaving soon.

Nahida:You’re always welcome. This land and its people owe more than a thanks to you. As do I.

Aether:You all have given more than enough. From important information to a strangely addictive card game. This place has been something else.

Nahida:Is that so? Paimon mentioned how each nation gives a different sense of familiarity or emotion.

Aether:Yeah. Mondstadt is home no matter what. I feel at ease and maybe a little too relaxed there.

Nahida:Everyone needs a home, and that’s where your journey began. It’s only natural. How about Liyue?

Aether:That’s…a weird one. I have plenty of friends there and it is a place where things are said to settle. For some reason though, it feels the most foreign to me. I can always take a trip to Liyue but it really is a feeling of passing through.

Nahida:That’s interesting. Maybe I should visit sometime? I’ve been told there’s plenty of ruins and historical sights, as if the entire nation itself is a well preserved historical artifact!

Aether:I think that’s a way more interesting perspective than what I said, but you’re right. Maybe that has something to do with it? More often than not it does feel like I’m on a knowledgeable expedition. Not that I’m not looking for answers all the time, but man, Liyue is kinda dense and rigid.

Nahida:Sounds like geo.

Aether:Can’t argue with that. Anyways, it’s a completely different feeling from Inazuma. Although Mondstadt is home, there’s a sense of belonging I get in Inazuma; as if it makes sense to be there.

Nahida:I’m not quite sure I follow.

Aether:Well…I think it’s the people, as well as the intense conditions the nation has. It always feels like someone is doing their best to prove why they’re right where they need to be; foreigner or otherwise.

Nahida:Ah, so it’s sorta like a feeling of mutual respect? You never question exactly why someone is there because you already know it’s to prove something. That feeling is probably enhanced by the fact you’re technically enlisted in an army.

Aether:If you can survive Inazuma, then you’re welcome in Inazuma. From Ei all the way to Itto, I feel like I fit in. I like it. Not to mention even the more abandoned spots seem to have found their own way of belonging.

Nahida:I guess I should be thankful you made it through a place that steeled you the way it did. So then Aether, now that you’ve so much of Sumeru, what is it to you?

He had to think on it for a moment as the breeze flowed the branches. Aether thought of the first time he stood of shifting sand dunes to gaze at ancient civilizations, experienced the lush greenery through pouring rain, and found places he could never describe without having been there first hand.

Aether:Sumeru is unreal, in almost every since of the word. Nothing feels fundamentally impossible, yet at the same time I was always surprised at something that made me ask “how is that even possible?” I ended up in places I didn’t expect and helped start things that felt way out of my depth! I mean just look at the pyramid, and the hydro tree across the desert! Even the people here weren’t what I expected. They feel grand despite many occupations being common here. Sumeru may be The Nation of Wisdom, but to me its more like-

Nahida:A massive dream? *smiles*

Aether:Yep, like a massive fantasy book with stories stitched together. It’s been fun. Even during the stressful parts I never felt like I couldn’t pull through.

Nahida:They say everyone is the main character of their own story, but I have to admit I felt captivated by yours as if you actually took the role. Imagine if you suddenly woke up right now?

Aether:Please don’t say things like that. Not after what we’ve dealt with.

Nahida:Heh, yeah I would probably panic. Thankfully, we are as real as ever. I’m flattered this place can be your living dream. Come back anytime. I love a good story.

Aether:As long as none of them are titled “The Revenge of Apep”

Nahida:How about… “A Birthday Fit for a God”

Aether:*smiles* I’ll be there. After all, The First Sage of Buer would love to celebrate such an occasion.

Nahida:You really love that title, don’t you?

Aether:I’ll be honest, losing to Wanderer after hearing that was not an option. I would’ve thought of a plan myself if I had to!

Nahida:Hehe, well I hope your next title is just as grand. Safe journeys to Fontaine.

xxxxx

Paimon:*gripping jail bars* Please help us get out!

Yanfei:Well it’s nice to see one of you taking this seriously.

Aether: *playing harmonica* I’m coping. Also I know someone who’s gonna get a kick out of this story.

[purlty23]

that recent commission 👁️👁️ we need more mean dom Papa IV in the fandom

I argee. I dont think he has as much of a temper as the others, like when they get mad its genuine even though its controlled and safe. With him, he purposely plays it up. He gets annoyed, hes italian, sometimes he can get loud, but hes a soft guy. He knows that shouting and red hot anger dont always fix things. He also knows that some of his demons crave it. They need a harsh hand and a striking palm to keep them in place, to make them feel secure, to make them cum. Dew is the one who gets it most, because they have an arrangement. More under the cut cause I have feelings, rated like PG 13. Theres hints of sexual tension but nothing happens, nothing is explicit

After Terzo was…. Removed from his position. Let go, if you will. Afterwards, Dew was so angry all the time. He felt he had no safety to run back to. Other ghouls couldn’t be his rock the way he knew some were tyring. Most ghouls were gone, and the ones that somehow made it were shaken and unsure if theyd be next. Aether couldn’t console him, because Dew couldn’t believe his reassurances. Then Copia was introduced to them as the successor.

This guy? Dew had thought to himself. No way. He was a pushover, a scrub, unfit for the role he was being given. Dew hated him.

When Copia would speak, he’d scoff and avert his eyes. He’d cross his arms, flare himself in a way that still ached at his newly scarred and almost healed gills. He’d take every chance he could to scare and terrorize and bestow cruelty on the Cardinal. If asked, he’d say it was for his own amusement. To anyone with eyes it was clear he was lying.

It was after the second time Dew had barricaded him into the confessional booth during his shift there that Copia had had enough. It wasn’t a simple thing to corner a ghoul, but it wasn’t impossible. Enlisting the help of his still forming ghoul pack, he was able to find himself glaring down the newly turned fire ghoul. He always looked small. Somehow, he had never looked as tiny nor as snake-like than now; backed against the wall with nowhere to run in the cramped supply closet of the rehearsal room.

“Tell me, what slight have I committed?” The cardinal demanded. Of course, as soon as he started, his mouth caught up with the ball of nerves in his stomach and it all unravelled over his tongue. “I cannot recall a single moment! Did I step on your tail without my knowledge? Eat a leftover with your name on it? Is my presence such a hinderance? What would you have me to? Leave?”

“No!” The string of otherworldly curses thrown at him were laced with snarls and hisses, completely falling on deaf ears since Copia could barely translate.

Without thinking, his gloved hand slammed into the space on the wall right next to Dew’s head. Their eyes locked, mismatched brown and white falling down into pools of dark black with only pinpricks of-

Oh. Those pinpricks expanded before his gaze. Deep, heavy dishes looked up at him as bright molten blush. Something had changed, and it had done so very quickly. Like something had clicked into place in Dew’s mind.

Leaning in, he felt the warmth. Dew’s heart pounded in his ears and he swore it was loud enough for the cardinal to hear.

“…Is this what it takes to get you to behave?” Copia murmured.

After a moment of tense silence, Dew shook his head once. Bratty and defiant.

Getting closer, Copia’s lips brushed over golden strands of hair as he spoke into the ghoul’s ear. “More?”

Finally, Dew nodded.

[sadwizardlover]

No Hope in Hell

Summary: The ambush on the tieflings in the Shadow-Cursed Lands and its aftermath, from Rolan's perspective Tags: Hurt, angst, absolutely no comfort or light whatsoever TW: This story contains descriptions of violence and torture

Link on AO3

"Hope hurts. That's what you need to learn, and fast, if you don't want it to cut you open from the inside out. Hope is bad. Hope means you keep on holding to things that won't ever be so again, and so you bleed an inch at a time until there's nothing left." --Seanan McGuire, Every Heart a Doorway

"Surrender in the name of the Absolute, or die." 

It's a voice that will haunt Rolan's nightmares for weeks to come, long after they've left the Shadow-Cursed Lands and he can no longer place a face to it. A voice devoid of any emotion or inflection, it sounds almost bored, as if condemning an entire caravan of people to their deaths is as commonplace as discussing the weather.

Everything changed so quickly. One minute, they were on the road to Baldur’s Gate: wary but not yet terrified of the shadows around them, trusting in their torches and spells to keep the worst of the darkness at bay. Muted conversations, Alfira singing to calm the children’s nerves. Cal and Lia beside him. 

The next–

Cultists emerging on the road ahead of them, flanking them from the woods, cultists coming up from behind. Appearing so suddenly and noiselessly they seem almost to be born of the shadows themselves. Armed with bows, greatswords, maces–all aimed at the trembling band of tieflings caught in their trap.

"Surrender in the name of the Absolute, or die." 

None of them know what to do. Their own weapons are raised in response; they aren’t outnumbered, from what Rolan can tell, but how many of them actually know how to fight? Back at the Druid’s Grove they’d needed an outsider’s help before they’d been able to push back the goblins; he doubts they’ll be so lucky here. There is no closed gate standing between them and their would-be murderers, no cave for the children to hide in. They’re completely vulnerable.

And yet–

At the Grove, Zevlor had rallied them before the battle: told them that though they were afraid, though they’d never been handed the easy choices, they had to resist. For their children, for their future. His words had given them courage and led them to victory against a much more powerful foe than the cultists they now face. Rolan doesn’t normally believe in the power of mere words over steel and magic; but what other hope do they have? Surely Zevlor will say something, will do something, to keep his people alive. 

The others must be thinking the same because all eyes are focused on their leader. Tilses, Zevlor’s faithful aide, turns to him and quietly whispers “sir, what should we do?”. Zevlor seems not to have heard her; his gaze is unfocused, staring off at something in the darkness that only he can see. “Sir? Sir!” 

Finally Zevlor turns to face them. He still doesn’t seem to be entirely there, he’s not looking directly at them but through them, like they’re ghosts from his past–but still, Rolan thinks, now is when things will turn in our favor. It’s not a thought he previously would’ve indulged in, especially in a situation where all the evidence in front of him is screaming at him to run, to hide, to do whatever it takes to keep himself and his siblings alive, damn all the others to the Nine Hells. But then a tadpole in the form of an intrepid adventurer wriggled its way into his skull and gave him the slightest hope that maybe, just maybe, they could win against impossible odds.

A slight hope that is snuffed out faster than a moth landing on an open flame.

“The Absolute…will protect us,” Zevlor says. "The Absolute is giving us a chance. Lay down your weapons. Please!" The shock that runs through the caravan is palpable. Looks of confusion and dawning horror pass through the party; from off to his right, Rolan hears Lia hiss "what in the hells is happening?!"

"Sir." Tilses is still trying to plead with Zevlor and make him see sense. "Sir, please. We can't just give in, they'll kill us all!"

No point in begging, Rolan thinks, the old man won't hear you.

Some of the other tieflings feel the same. One of them–Amek? Locke? Rolan has ceased to give a shit about remembering their names–angrily spits out "Some Hellrider you are, Zevlor! Fucking coward." Another shouts "rot in the Nine Hells, we're not going anywhere!" This voice Rolan recognizes as Okta, the motherly woman who made him and Lia and Cal gruel and let them stay in front of her tent. He hadn’t realized she had such guts.

It doesn’t matter of course. The cultist in charge actually chuckles, a noise that makes Rolan wish he could strike them dead then and there, then turns to one of the others. “Line ‘em up so we can bring them to Moonrise.”

Zevlor is still, for gods only know what reason, begging and pleading–not with the cultists, he’s not asking them to show mercy or let them go, no, the disgraced Hellrider is begging to his own people–telling them to lay down their weapons, the Absolute would save them, he would save them. Whether Zevlor’s actually turned traitor, is being compelled, or some combination of the two, Rolan doesn’t care. His entire focus has narrowed to a single pinprick. He will get Cal and Lia out of this alive.

A sharp elbow to his back forces him into line with the others: Lia and Cal to his right, Alfira and Lakrissa to his left. Towards the end of the line are Asharak and the children who don’t have parents to see to their safety. To Rolan’s surprise, the cultists don’t take their weapons away or even order them to be sheathed, so Lia is allowed to keep her bow. In this moment he thinks the cultists have forgotten to confiscate them out of sheer ineptitude or stupidity; later, when he has nothing better to do than drown himself in bottomless glasses of wine and reply this scene ceaselessly in his mind, he will realize it’s the opposite.

The cultists know exactly what will happen in a few minutes.  They’ve set the perfect trap–one baited with that faint, faint hope that maybe there’s still a chance for them to all to survive–and the tieflings have strolled right into it. They want them to fight back because that will make justifying their deaths even easier.

Once they’re lined up, they aren’t immediately ordered to start marching, and the waiting is torture. The cultists point and snicker at them, making crude comments on the state of their clothes, how bone-weary and haggard they look, how easy it would be to just let the evil lurking in the shadows consume them like the hellspawn they are. Their leader is the worst of all. They use the tieflings as a lecture, a morality play to prove the righteousness of their cause.

“See how those who reject the Absolute must cower in the darkness, weighed down by the burden of their unworthiness and sin. They believe themselves to be strong, to be deserving of the air they breathe and the ground underneath their feet. But see how their leaders–” here the cultist leader gestures to Zevlor, still babbling about the Absolute himself, “--see how their leaders shatter like glass when faced with the might of the Absolute! Only through embracing the Absolute can they be made pure. Those who reject the Absolute, those who resist, must be culled like vermin!”

One of the children begins to cry. Asharak tries to quiet them and keep them from drawing the cultists’ attention.

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright. Remember what that hero said, back at the Grove? You just have to be strong for a little bit longer, we’ll be okay.” His voice is barely a whisper and the cultist leader is at the opposite end of the line, but somehow they still hear him.

“You,” they say, in a voice dripping with bile, malice, authority. “Do you doubt the truth of the Absolute?”

“No, you didn’t think, did you, that anyone would call your lies into question. Heretics rarely do. I think,” they give a curt nod to one of the cultists near the end of the line, “a little lesson is in order for these children. Better they have some honesty in their lives, however short lived they may be.”

“W-what?” Asharak says, quaveringly. “N-no, I–I’m just trying to calm the children–”

“By telling them lies? It’s alright, we’ll be okay,” the leader echoes mockingly. “Do you really believe they will be spared from this? That any of you will be?”

“I—I don’t—I didn’t—”

“Don’t hurt them, please! They’re only children, they haven’t done anything wrong–!”

“Not them, boy. You will be their lesson. Now kneel.” Asharak remains standing, eyes bulging in horror and confusion. “Kneel.” The cultist behind him grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him to his knees. 

Rolan’s head is spinning. He doesn’t know what’s coming, only that it will be terrible, something he doesn’t want to see, something he doesn’t want Cal and Lia to see, because as soon as they do there will be no going back to who they were before.

“Eyes that deny the truth of the Absolute,” the cultist leader says, “shall be plucked from the unworthy.”

The cultist pinning down Asharak pulls out a dagger with a blade that somehow still gleams menacingly even in the dim light of the Shadowlands. Asharak begins to shake and struggles to free himself from their grip; they kneel down behind him and lock his head in a chokehold, then roughly jerk his chin so he’s facing them. Stupid, brave Asharak is still trying to get away, clawing at their arm, twisting and squirming. The last things he sees in this life are the face of his captor and then the fall of the dagger.

No one screams, no one even breathes. The horror of what they’ve all just witnessed defies anything they’ve seen before; even the fall of Elturel into the hells couldn’t match the sheer, unbridled evil of cutting a man’s eyes out for comforting a scared child.

The worst of it is that Asharak is still alive. He’s moaning and whimpering, blood streaming from where his eyes once were, but he’s still alive, somehow. Asharak, who looked after the children, told them stories and taught them to fight. Gods, the pain he must be in…

“Tongues,” says the cultist leader, snapping everyone’s attention back to them, “that sully the Absolute with lies and deceit shall be sliced from the unworthy.” They signal again to the cultist holding Asharak in place.

They all know what to expect now, know to look away before the dagger drops. But that doesn’t protect them from the noise: the noise of metal through flesh, the noise of Asharak keening in pain, the noise of the cultists chanting “Praise the Absolute!” en masse, as though a god who could condemn a man to such a torturous and slow death for committing no crime at all was worthy of such slavish praise. The Absolutists’ jubilant shouts are matched by the desperate prayers, sobs, and pleas of the tieflings. Zevlor is entreating the children to look away; someone is retching up what little food they’ve had to eat. 

While the cultists are distracted by lauding their murderous god, Rolan feels a trembling hand slip into his. Lia is shaking, he can’t tell if it’s with fear or with anger, but her eyes are clear and determined. He recognizes that look. It’s the Lia is about to do something incredibly stupid and I need to stop her look. But by the way she gazes at him–so focused despite her fear, ready to throw her own life on the line to protect everyone else–Rolan realizes in a heartbeat that he won’t be able to. Next to her, Cal has a similar expression; his is softer than Lia’s, less ferocious, but no less set on doing something dangerously heroic.

When did you two get so big, Rolan suddenly thinks. When you were little you wouldn’t dare do something this stupid in front of me. When you were little, I could protect you.

Lia squeezes his hand tightly. “Spells and swords, Rolan,” she murmurs. He knows what she’s asking of him. Knows she’s calling on him to fall back and shield the children, like they did in the Druid’s Grove. Knows she’s trying to reassure him that they’ll be fine, her and Cal, they can take care of themselves. He knows, and the fear that this may be the last time he’ll ever hold her hand is so overwhelming Rolan wishes it was him with his eyes and tongue cut out and not Asharak. It would be far less painful than this.

“Spells and swords, Lia,” Rolan whispers. And then he lets go.

Lia immediately turns away, pulling an arrow from her quiver and aiming it straight at the cultist leader’s throat. It flies true; if Rolan weren’t so damned afraid, he’d be proud of his sister’s marksmanship. The leader clutches at the arrow and yanks it out, gasping down their last gulps of air before the life dribbles out of them. At the same time, Cal lets out a roar and charges at the cultist closest to them with his pike.

All hell breaks loose.

The tieflings scatter in all directions. Some of them go running off into the shadows; others join Cal and Lia and begin fighting back against the cultists. A cacophony of screams, of weapons clashing, of people dying, cuts through the darkness.

“Run, Arabella!” 

“Danis?! Danis where are you?!”

“You vermin will never see daylight again!”

“No…this can’t be happening, no…no…NO!”

Rolan tries to tune out the chaos as best he can and makes a mad dash for Alfira, who’s collapsed on the ground next to Asharak’s now still corpse. Her eyes are wide with panic and her face is streaked with tears; the children are clinging onto her like she’s the only thing keeping them from being snatched away. It enrages Rolan to see her just sitting there weeping while his siblings are fighting, are dying–

No. He won’t think that, not right now anyway.

“Get up!” he shouts, shoving her roughly. “If you don’t want to die, grab the children and run, now!” This snaps Alfira out of whatever trance she’s in and she quickly stands up and starts to run, pulling the children with her. One of the cultists tries to go after them; Rolan hits him with a magic missile volley and he falls to the ground, dead. He sees Mol stab another cultist in the thigh and yells at her to come with them. 

Then they’re running, running, running, him and Alfira and the children, along with whichever refugees are smart enough and fast enough to follow them. Rolan doesn’t know what spells or cantrips he’s casting to beat back the cultists; his arms are flying almost as fast as his feet. He just knows that he has to survive this, not for his own sake but for Cal and Lia. Who will remember to come back for them if not him? He doesn’t let himself think about how he might be coming back to their dead bodies, or worse, to nothing left of them at all. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes them to get to Last Light from where they were ambushed. It could be minutes, it could be hours, he doesn’t care, before they burst forth from the darkness into the shimmering dome of light encircling the inn. Another Rolan, in another lifetime, would’ve been fascinated by the magic required to create such a massive protective barrier.

This Rolan, in this lifetime, is covered in someone else’s blood and just wants a fucking drink.

There are Harpers and Flaming Fist at the inn who bombard the others with questions about where they came from (“we were on the way to Baldur’s Gate from the Druid’s Grove”) and how they managed to survive the ambush (“Rolan saved us”). They want to talk to him, too, but after he demands to know when they’re going to be attacking Moonrise to free the prisoners and is met with pitying looks and half-hearted reassurances that they will save them, eventually, they just need to know what Ketheric Thorm is planning first—Rolan refuses to speak to them. Cowards, the lot of them. Cal and Lia are worth a thousand of their kind.

Lia and Cal are worth a thousand of you, Rolan.

He sets himself up in front of the bar. Doesn’t even find a bed to rest in, doesn’t try to sleep, because he knows as soon as his eyes close he’ll see everything as clearly as if he’s still trapped in the shadows: Asharak with his eyes and tongue cut out, the cultists laughing at their fear and misery, Cal and Lia looking at him with complete trust before doing something suicidally reckless. The liquor will keep the darkness at bay. With every new cup he pours, Rolan thinks, this time. This time when I get to the bottom they’ll walk through the door. They’ll probably be tired and scared but I don’t care, I’m going to yell at them, how could they be so stupid and leave me alone like this? Every cup carries an enticing whiff of hope that his siblings are playing some childish prank on him and hiding just out of sight, waiting to jump out and yell “surprise, we didn’t die in a ditch!”

Every cup ends in fresh disappointment. 

The others try to console him, initially. Cerys tells him that he and Lia and Cal were brave for what they did, braver than Zevlor who stood by and did nothing while his people died, but this praise means nothing to Rolan. He’d much rather be in Zevlor’s place right now, because then at least he’d be dead, or in some prison cell with the others. Instead he’s here, nursing a drink and a headache, just him and his thoughts and all his flaws. 

Alfira tries to comfort him too. She quietly approaches him at the bar–as he’s thinking yet again of what a fuckup he is, it should be him in prison and Cal and Lia should be here–and gently places her hand on his arm. “Rolan,” she says softly, “I wanted…I wanted to thank you. For saving us. For saving me. I would’ve died if it wasn’t for you, and for Cal and Lia, too.” Alfira swallows nervously. “I know…I know it’s not my place to say anything, and you’re going through a lot, but. I just want to say, I know they’d be proud of you–”

“You don’t know anything,” Rolan barks, wrenching himself away from her. “I didn’t want to save you, I didn’t choose to save you. I would let you all rot in the dark out there a thousand times over if it meant I could have Lia and Cal here with me. None of you mean anything to me and don’t you dare say they’d be proud of me for what I did, don’t you dare even speak their names.” He knows he’s being unimaginably cruel, that Alfira is only trying to help, that she’s grieving too. But in his alcohol-addled haze, his grief seems so much bigger, so much more important than hers, because it’s a grief built on a solid foundation of shame and self-loathing. Alfira can cry about losing Lakrissa but it’s not really the same, is it? It’s not like she could’ve bashed a cultist on the head with her lute. 

But Rolan. Rolan is supposed to be a magical prodigy, the future apprentice to the greatest wizard in all of Faerun, and yet he couldn’t do the one simple thing that was his responsibility and his alone. He couldn’t protect Cal and Lia. If he’s failed so miserably at this, how can he expect to succeed at anything else? Maybe the voice in his head that’s always nagged at him for not being enough is right. Maybe he truly is an irredeemable nobody.

Having to be around the children is the worst part of being stuck in the purgatory that is the Last Light Inn. They are keenly aware that every one of them would be dead if not for him; they are also keenly aware of how angry he is, but because they are children, have no way of understanding why he keeps yelling at them and demanding they refill his drinks even after all the other adults have told them to quit serving him. They want to thank him, want to repay him for getting them to safety, but because they are children all they can do is watch helplessly as Rolan drinks himself into a stupor. How can he tell them that every time he looks at them, he sees Cal and Lia at that age: small, happy, healthy, alive? They’re a living reminder of his failure. They’re not the children he wants to see. His thoughts fill him with such shame and he swallows the shame back with another glass of wine.

As the minutes melt into hours melt into days, Rolan’s ire switches focus and lashes out at everyone not present. At the Cult of the Absolute, for their sick belief in a sick god who sees torture and murder as a way to bring about purification. At Zevlor, for tricking them all into thinking they were strong enough to take on any obstacles in their way, and then abandoning them when they needed his leadership most. At–and here Rolan’s mind disgusts him so much that he has to down an entire bottle of beer before he can even get the thought out–Lia, at Cal, for being so stupid, for having to play the hero when they can hardly do anything without his help, for abandoning him. 

But. The person Rolan loathes the most (apart from himself) is that intrepid adventurer. That hero. That interfering menace, who popped into their lives for only a short time and yet in one fell stroke managed to completely upend everything, simply by giving them hope. If they hadn’t helped Zevlor fight the goblins, he wouldn’t have been deluded into thinking there were still good people in the world, wouldn’t have passed that delusion on to the rest of the tieflings and then betrayed them. If they hadn’t fed Asharak and the children some line about “being strong” and “trusting each other”, Asharak might’ve kept his stupid mouth shut in front of the cultists, instead of being left to bleed out in a dark wood, sightless and speechless. If they hadn’t convinced Cal, Lia, and himself to stay and fight, he and his family would be in Baldur’s Gate by now, safe in Lorroakan’s care and protection. 

Hadn’t they known how dangerous hope was to people who had long ago resigned themselves to a life of hopelessness?

Rolan hopes he never sees the adventurer again. He hopes they’re dead, cut down on the road somewhere; it’ll still be better than they deserve, for all the pain and damage they’ve caused.

Rolan hopes the adventurer is alive, that they’ll come striding through the door so he can punch them in the face, can scream at them about how they’ve ruined his life, they’ve ruined everything, why did they do this to him? What harm did he ever cause them to deserve such punishment as this?

Rolan hopes that the adventurer will come save him, will save everyone, even though he knows this is the most futile hope of all.

Rolan doesn’t know what he hopes for anymore. 

When he eventually does drift off to fitful slumber–his head cradled in his arms on top of the bar, a mug of ale still clenched tightly in his hand–his last thought is that he doesn’t need hope. He has himself, his sense of purpose, and that is enough to get him through whatever lies ahead. The Flaming Fist and the Harpers are too scared to attack Moonrise? Fine, he’ll do it on his own then. Rolan isn’t afraid of the shadows, of the curse that chokes the land outside their little bubble of safety. He’s seen things that are much, much worse than mere shadows in the span of a few days, and those things have his siblings. He will get them out of there, even if he kills himself in the process. Rolan makes a mental note to record a message for Cal and Lia on the scant chance that they manage to escape and make it to the inn while he’s still searching for them in the dark. If he does fall, he wants them to continue to Baldur’s Gate, and not mourn him the way he’s mourning for them right now.

With this plan of action set firmly in his mind, Rolan finally sets his tortured thoughts aside for a time and lets the oblivion of sleep take him.

[electricbluebutterflies]

stolen moments for jessica and leto?

Choice-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

He shouldn’t be doing this right now.

Objectively, slipping away to spend a few moments with his partner and their child is not the worst thing Leto could be doing right now, but… it also isn’t on-schedule, and a particular meeting will start late, and-

He is allowed to decide his priorities, he reminds himself. The calm of his domestic life – calm that will not last but is appreciated while it does – is the most important thing in the world. It’ll be fine.

He had asked for everything and received; he asks for so little now, tempted to knock on the door, tempted to give warning in case his presence is unwanted, in case-

Before he can, it opens, and what a perfect sight. His partner, tired as ever but at least upright, their son resting in her arms, this quiet moment of hope manifested and-

“Do you need something?” she breathes.

Every day more reasons to love her, Leto thinks, every day more-

“Just wanted to see you. Both of you.”

She steps back, allowing him into her spaces, this room that wasn’t used for almost a year beforehand but now she nests, now she creates her own world. He is no longer the most important person in her life, not since the birth, but close second is still close and-

“You do have other-“

“Don’t remind me.”

She gives him one of her sharp looks, the kind he’s learned to expect whenever he does decide to prioritize her, and maybe she’d be calmer if that happened more often but-

They both understand the circumstances. He is trying, he would say if he thought she’d hear him out, and it is never quite enough, and she forgives anyways. Something deep in this cold woman wants to be loved, and something in him has found a way through her ice and thorns, and-

“Do you need anything from me?” she asks again.

They had routines, once, and now they do not. There will be no more… it’s only been a month, he hasn’t asked for her since, he’s tried to be respectful of her cocoon and her healing and-

“What might I ask for?” he replies.

“What might you want?”

Impossible woman, skies forbid she ever have actual preferences of her own instead of just-

“May I hold you? Just you, for a moment?”

She steps back and carefully places their child in the cradle before returning to face him, and he knows her stance, her uncertainty mixed with cooperativeness mixed with-

“You may.”

He takes half a step closer and oh he has been so cautious these last few weeks, ever since her fragility was made clear – her stubbornness is what it is, and he loves her for it, and she worries him – and even this seems like it might be too far, even this-

Their bodies still fit perfectly, and perhaps more of her weight rests on him than usual, and she hides her face against his shoulder as she rarely does and-

“Does something worry you, my storm?”

“I will not be difficult,” she breathes. “I will not be…”

“That does not seem like-“

“It is as if my heart has been separated from my body and given its own life, and the fear of it, and-“

“Jess-“

“Do you not feel the same?”

It is different for him, he thinks; there are two manifestations, the other currently clinging to him and pretending she’s alright and-

“Completely. Does my presence not make that clear enough?”

“You could just be avoiding-“

“That too, but-“

She kisses him – the first time she’s done that in a month, since overwhelmed emotions in aftermath – and he has missed her in ways beyond words, the slight softness of her when she wants something and-

“You don’t owe me this,” he murmurs against her lips.

“And I will not offer more, but… it has been strange to sleep without you, my love.”

“If that was not what you wanted-“

“I will never speak badly of your respect for me, but… I do trust you. I have given you how many nights and you have never-“

He kisses the side of her face, aware what this means for her, aware that basic decency works too well on her, and it’s been a while since they’ve had one of these moments and-

“It is strange without you too.”

“I would allow it. You never wake me, and-“

He can’t recall ever being in her spaces for such purpose – she’d all but abandoned this room until she’d found use of it again, some petty justification about his bedroom having a better window or something equally frivolous and easier to admit than her deeper desires – but if that is what pleases her, if-

“You could have asked.”

“That is not who we are.”

He wants to linger, wants to keep this moment forever, wants a great many things and none of them are ideal now and-

“Will you be alright if I-“

“I will. I would not dare to assume I am-“

Even this is not enough, somehow, even this does not make clear-

“You are my heart. Both of you. Never forget that.”

She takes another kiss and then breaks the embrace, two steps back and biting her lip. “Go… whatever…”

“I do miss you knowing my schedule more than I do.”

“And I do appreciate you breaking it for me, but-“

“The door will be unlocked in the quiet of night?”

“I would hope you would come to me earlier, but yes.”

He will do better by them, he thinks, silent promise as he carefully shuts the door behind him and returns to a much less interesting afternoon. Nothing else matters. Nothing else will ever matter more.

[ikemenomegas]

Itachi Uchiha x Reader

Fear is the mind killer (1)

cw: navel gazey fake sherlock holms bullshit, set in the omegaverse although that's largely irrelevant to plot, alpha!reader, this oc suffers from a good amount of justified paranoia, also warning for attempts to be realistic about the whole child-soldier thing

A better member of the village would have put it all behind them, the whole sordid affair of one of the village's founding clans, a noble clan, being all but wiped out in a night.

It was an act of madness, of power, sometimes seen in the shinobi world. In a single night, the entire clan, fair and shrewd, cruel and arrogant, kind and dedicated, had been made martyrs.

Everyone except the eldest son of the clan head, who was now a villain, and the youngest son of the same, who was now a victim.

If anyone else was stunned into denial and disbelief they, like you, kept their silence. If this was the work of an enemy then it was one that was strong enough only the highest ranking members of the village would know much about it. If it was, more terrifying, the work of a supposed friend to the village, then there was something rotten in the roots of Konoha's great tree.

If it was truly madness, part of you didn't wonder if maybe the village deserved its grief. Itachi had had friends, or at least people who considered themselves his friends. He was an ANBU, one who waded into the dark. Those around him should have never let things get this far.

There was no funeral, which would have been the choice of the last village-bound Uchiha.

Still for there to be no public memorial for a founding clan was strange.

It would have been Uchiha Sasuke's choice, but you wished someone had counseled him to make a different one, even if it would dredge up painful memories. The completely silent and echoing absence of a whole clan in the village was resounding.

The knowledge of who had done it - the jounin and chunin were all whispering about it, it was impossible to keep secret and the village had given up trying almost before it had began - felt like the aftermath of a punch pulled right before it hit your nose.

You suspected you weren't alone in feeling like the massacre being just the Uchiha had been a near miss.

Your mind craved distraction from its own grief, and for better or worse, any information about the event was placed into some box in your mind like sweeping up the shattered remains of a vase. And like broken porcelain, it rattled when you walked with it.

It rattled when villagers fell suddenly silent at odd moments in their own conversations, whether what conversation you heard had seemed to hint at ill will or sympathy towards the Uchiha.

It rattled when you realized it was the forty-ninth day after the massacre and while your steps had taken you past the village's largest temple, your fear of being watched - you had after all been one of the friends (or at least acquaintances) of now traitor Uchiha Itachi - kept you from going inside.

It rattled whenever you caught sight of the other clan heads, distant and alone or with a cohort of vassal clan members and trusted guards, and wondered what they made of the event. What did they think of the lack of response from the village? What did they make of the power vacuum?

You walked back to your apartment in silence after leaving your teammates each day, the back of your neck prickling.

Most jounin sensei preached against fear. It froze the senses or focused them without the benefit of incorporating other information. Your sensei was a beta woman from no clan lineage in particular who had taken one look at your team, fresh out of the academy, in the middle of a village still somewhat resentful of how it was still rebuilding itself after being trampled on by a hundred meter chakra monster, and told you all that fear, like pain, meant something was wrong.

Sometimes it could be ignored or fought through to be dealt with in the future. Sometimes it was telling you something important about yourself or your environment.

As fear was in the mind, however, it liked to be more difficult to deal with than pain. It was the shinobi's responsibility, she counseled, to discern when your body was being reasonably ridiculous about it (like when your teammate put a thorny beetle down the back of your collar), or when it could put you in danger.

Such as would be the case for one trapped in a potent genjutsu. Or one of likely a number being watched for their response in the aftermath of a local upheaval.

Everyone seemed to be watching with bated breath to see if anyone else would do something. You had no idea what would happen if someone decided to break rank. The enemy on the other side of the field was entirely obscured.

Or at least they were trying to be.

You went to training and returned home day by day with only the varied and mindless sort of wandering someone both surprised and grieving might do.

The pieces rattled around as you sifted through them, thoughtlessly tracing the edges.

There was a formation among many others that your sensei had laid before your team. Shinobi had many ways of laying traps for their enemies, and for those they were not sure yet were enemies.

Nagano Botan was a branch member of the Akimichi family and blessed with the corresponding large build and large chakra reserves. He was the center of a strategy in your team that involved his intentionally neglecting to suppress his chakra if you suspected yourselves being monitored. The enormity of his natural power effectively drowned out the other chakra signatures in close proximity so that a typical sensor who wasn't sure what they were looking for could underestimate your team's number or miss a position.

It also had the secondary effect of intimidation. There was less likelihood of an attack from those without enough information if they thought they were outclassed to begin with.

This plan didn't work all the time, but it worked often enough on simple protection missions where the enemy were hill bandits or mountain bandits or simply cowards that the technique was taught to genin.

Sometimes the best defense was a distraction. It aligned at least with the philosophy of those whose job it was to be a constant and possible threat, lurking in the dark.

You frowned to yourself. ANBU was about as deep as the shadows got but there hadn't been any other announced defections from the village in the same week or even month.

There had been very ostensibly nothing else happening at all.

Not that you would know what was happening, you thought sourly, pulling your mind back to the exercise at hand.

Your other teammate, Kuniko, was on a hidden branch practicing throwing senbon through leaves that you sent spiraling into the air

She was very good with them and it had become one of your favorite things to see a fall of steel needles coming down like rain from a direction that your enemies hadn't anticipated. She was however working on precision and you were working on control and cultivating a second chakra nature, so this resulted in you sending leaves spiraling the wrong way in relation to the ground and trying to will your chakra to split them before Kuniko could pin them through with her throwing needles.

By tally, she was winning and it seemed more and more likely that you were going end up buying her the wagered plate of sakuramochi.

It was one of the less physically demanding but mentally taxing exercises your team had in its training repertoire and you and Kuniko, who was experimenting with adjusting throwing angles with chakra threads as well, took scheduled breaks to let Botan ply the two of you with snacks and meditate in order to recenter your control and focus.

They were talking, each pressing Arakawa-sensei with questions about their individual training, while you twirled a leaf between your fingers. You were comfortable, nestled between the roots of a tree with your back pressed to its warm trunk. You were trying to sense the layers of the leaf and direct your chakra to split it that way, rather than along the main vein.

It was perhaps a tad too complicated, certainly too complicated to be useful in the field right now, but you were feeling a bit mischievous and bifurcating Kuniko's target in a way that appeared to duplicate it was tempting.

You rolled the stem between your fingers, careful to maintain the chakra-cycling breath that was the base root of this particular meditation. The leaf's top side was shiny, glossy and very green, the other less vibrant and soft, spongy. You brought it to your nose and pulled in the green growing scent. The underside prickled your skin, not as soft as you had imagined.

Kuniko was laughing at something but somehow that sound suddenly made you wary, like there was something at just that same frequency you couldn't hear.

You were careful. This feeling was not unfamiliar since the massacre. The sudden and unprovoked sense of panic, of missing something. Intentionally, you avoided catching Arakawa-sensei's eye. She would help you if it was unreasoned panic, but you felt like this was one of those thing she had mentioned.

One of those times when fear meant that something was wrong and that something important was right there, just beyond articulation, and it needed to be brought into the realm of thought before it could be dealt with.

What kind of threats were simply too deep to be acknowledged?

The kind that lived at your very back.

Kuniko called your name to begin again and you used the tree to support you when you stood and picked carefully over the grass when you walked over.

It was now time for a rotation. Botan was to practice tree walking, standing upside down or sideways in order to avoid detection, so fluid that not even a leaf would fall from the trees above. Kuniko was to try burning the leaves that did fall before you could catch them in your hand. At the same time, you were each trying to tag Botan out before he got to one of you, without being seen.

You fought back a scowl, because there was already an answer. Like a sliver of porcelain found under the wardrobe or stabbed into your palm. A shiver passed over your back when Arakawa-sensei popped up behind the two of you on the ground, a sinister warning to get out there and get started in her eyes, but the shiver stayed for different reasons.

For one, the kind of wind that promised a chill storm had kicked up, helping Botan to hide within the noise. For another, you quite literally felt like you would jump at your own shadow if the forest hadn't already swallowed it.

What kind of shadow was deeper than ANBU?

You didn't know, but you were certain that Uchiha Itachi had a good idea.

A/n: This is the promised start to a short series that is about Itachi's Alpha's decision to go find Itachi, and their thought process in discerning what was going on behind the scenes of the Uchiha massacre. It is incredibly navel gazey and doesn't have much to do with the omegaverse apart from being set in that realm. As writer and readers I think we understand that despite the shinobi practice of treating academy graduates as adults, this does not mean that genin and advanced ranks are making completely rational/unemotional decisions. Itachi's decisions, which are focused on here, were incredibly emotional. Despite being saddled with an adult's burden and expected to make an adult's decisions, after watching and rewatching the relevant scenes of his conversations with the elders, as well as his confessions to Sasuke and others later on, I have come to a greater appreciation of the writing for those scenes(whether this is confirmation bias or truly present I don't know). Itachi's decision regarding the massacre is made based on fear, anger, desperation, love, and watching him makes his youth more obvious, even behind the reputation of his being an ANBU captain and the clan heir. The mc in this is an unreliable narrator partly due to their own age, as well as what I imagine would be incredibly stressful circumstances post-massacre. In part 1, they don't love Itachi. Yet. They just remember him. If you've had such similar experience regarding persistent thoughts about someone before, you may recognize the experience of the object of mc's thoughts becoming a kind of obsession as they replay scenes and ideas over and over. They also know that although Itachi was at a level far beyond his own peers, he was also part of their age group, which is a bit like watching one of the gifted kids go to all the advanced classes but still know they're in the same literature class as you or something. So I don't think they, starting off as a genin when this happens, has quite the understanding of ANBU to really believe that Itachi is behaving like an ANBU or jounin veteran would. Everything in this will come from the mc's point of view and they are not always aware of the assumptions they are making at every step, despite doing their best to reason things out. Importantly, they are being coached by Itachi's "voice". Some assumptions they eventually will have to admit came into being because they didn't want a friend and someone they looked up to be a murderer and leave it at that. Sometimes the things we want to be true about ourselves and other people give us blinders. Shinobi are taught to be unfeeling and told that the highest honor would be to be a perfect tool, easily molded. But we see how that works out over and over again, with Itachi, with Obito, with Kakashi, with Sasuke, with Rin, with Tsunade and so on. And we see how individual thinking or great problem solving abilities, often in the children deemed prodigies by the villages (including many of the series' missing nin), sometimes going hand in hand with a nearly curse-level ability to empathize, buts up against the shinobi ideal. After all, empathy with your enemies would make you a fantastic strategist, but only if you can also stop thinking of other people as people. For better or worse, this mc becomes aware that they are "not a good shinobi" early on, and this transforms into an internalization of a "ninja way" that is not quite in lockstep with the village policies.