#The Villager in Tent Three Fanfic

[teyums]

His Secret Admirer (Part Two) - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part one | part three | part four |bonus chapter

wc: 4.6k

a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long y’all, I had such bad writers block trying to figure out which direction I wanted to push this story in. This honeslty isn’t as good as I wanted to be but maybe I’m being too hard on myself. This is the first multiple part fanfic I’ve written in almost seven years. 😅

contains: angst, some language

“~~~” resembles a time skip or change of POV

Neteyam sat silently on the floor of his family’s tent, his elbows against his knees and his head held between his hands while he listened to his mother chastise him for what felt like the thousandth time today. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t tried to keep you out as long as possible, constantly bringing up new topics so the conversation wouldn’t fall off. He never meant for you to stay out past your curfew, but he got so wrapped up in spending time with you that he didn’t want it to end.

“Where were you?” Neytiri seethed, pushing his head to the side with two fingers while her son ignored her. “Do you know how many times we called for you? What is the point of having this if you do not listen?” She hissed, motioning to the necklace he wore that contained a small walkie-talkie.

He bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything out of anger, his arms now crossed in front of him while he tried his hardest to tune out her incessant interrogation. He vaguely remembered shutting it off, not wanting him or you to hear it and bring the two of you back to real life. “I was out, mother.” He mumbled.

She scoffed with antipathy, turning away from him and flicking her hand into the air with annoyance, seemingly tagging Jake into the conversation before she did something she would regret.

Jake sighed, looking down at his son with a puzzlement. “Out where? Can you at least tell us what you were doing? It isn’t like you to stay out this late, son.”

Neteyam had enough of being watched like a hawk for his entire life. When he would try to go out and have fun just like Lo’ak would do, it was an issue. He stood to his feet suddenly, his voice raised and laced with frustration. “I was with a girl, okay? Is that what the two of you want to hear? If I tell you this will you guys finally leave me alone about this whole mate thing?” He yelled, his shoulder brushing against his father’s as he stormed past him and into his room.

Jake noticed Neytiri’s eye twitch with aggravation, her mouth slightly ajar with stupefy as she watched this unusual display from her eldest son. She had never seen him act out in such away, let alone disrespect his father, this was unknown to them. When she stepped to follow him, Jake grabbed her arm and slowly shook his head, silently telling her to leave him be.

Neteyam felt no matter what he did, his parents would find an issue. For years Jake wouldn’t let him act on his feelings towards you, constantly telling him that girls were not his main priority but he would let Lo’ak run around and pursue whatever girl he pleased. And now, they’re pressuring him to find a mate at the same time multiple men have noticed and already expressed their interest towards you. He couldn’t blame them, you had developed into such an alluring woman. There was just something about you that he couldn’t shake. Your beauty stunned him, you had changed so much over the years that when he would see you prance around the village with Kiri he couldn’t even gather the courage to approach you. He had no chance competing with Ta’olu, he saw the way he looked at you, he heard the way he spoke about you during the hunting party meetings. All the years he had been gone from your life, it seemed like Ta’olu had conveniently stepped right in to take his place.

And if he were being honest, Neteyam resented his parents for putting him in this position. He didn’t want any of the other girls they were trying to set him up with, the mere thought of mating with someone he wasn’t truly in love with sent shivers through his spine and not the good kind. Not the kind you gave him, anyway.

But every time he tried to tell to them about you, about the girl he was actually in love with, he was shot down before he could even say your name. Something about “status” in the clan, and them knowing who would make the best Tsahik to stand beside him.

Bullshit.

“You got to choose who you wanted to mate with, why can I not do the same?” He would yell at his parents, but his words would constantly fall on deaf ears.

The eldest Sully boy barely knew what a crush was. He felt his entire existence boiled down to being the protector of his younger siblings and the future clan leader- what his parents wanted him to be. He hadn’t known what it felt like to be in love until the night he laid eyes on you. He passed it off as inviting you to be his friend, but deep down he knew it was more than that, Lo’ak and Kiri included. The day he was told he could no longer spend time with you split his heart into two. But all it took was two painfully short hours in your presence to mend it back together again.

~~~

Sleep had been the last thing on your mind the past two days. You spent both nights tossing and turning- all you could think about was him. A reoccurring image of Neteyam’s sweet smile flashed behind your eyelids every time they closed, the memory of his voice causing them to open despite your attempts to keep them glued shut. The brief time you two had spent together, and how special it felt after years of being reduced to rushed conversations and short glances. You groaned, sliding both your hands down your face and letting your fingers drag across your lips. You had no idea what you were going to do. But what you did know was that night was one of the best nights of your entire life and barely anything happened. You felt like a little girl again and your crush was returning with a vengance.

You thought about what your mom had said, that you should make your move and let him know how you feel. That following morning, you begged her to teach you all that she knew about being a healer and the two of you got started immediately. You figured if you wanted to be Neteyam’s mate, you had to possess skills that would serve useful to an olo’eyktan. Although, you wish you had gotten into this sooner, because now that you were older the lessons were long and grueling to make up for lost time. You had no idea mixing up a bunch of herbs with a stick required this much thinking.

“[Y/n]?” Your mother’s voice brought you back to Pandora and you turned your eyes to meet a disapproving stare.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” You sighed, shaking your head and sitting up straight now to give her your undivided attention. “I can focus, I promise.” You nodded reassuringly, in which she returned with an unconvinced grunt. You didn’t blame her.

God, this was going to be a long process.

You thanked the spirits when the lesson finally came to an end, standing up and dramatically cradling your back with your hands to stretch it.

“You will have to get used to this if you want to learn the ways of a healer.” Your mother said in response to your display, picking up the materials that laid spread out on the mat of your hut and tucking them away into their designated areas. When you had asked her to start teaching you all that she knew, she was more than overjoyed. She had actively been trying to get you to learn the medicinal ways of your clan, almost like she was playing matchmaker from the start.

Feeling bad for wanting to escape so soon, you instead decided to walk around the house readjusting the most random objects, feigning interest in the same rug that had been there for years. You stood with your hands held in front of you, rocking back and forth from the tips of your toes to the backs of your heels as you avoided her gaze with an awkward whistle.

“Yes, you may go now.”

A smile big enough to almost split your jaw worked its way onto your face and you gathered your things at the speed of light, trying your hardest not to look so excited when you made your way out of your home.

Now that the lesson was over, all you could focus on were the plans you had made with Kiri for the day.  The two of you were to venture into the forest in search for small materials that could be crafted into beads for bracelets or necklaces. While you had never really been very interested in healing work, you loved to make jewelry and were a damn good seamstress. You alone had sewn together many Na’vi’s hunting attire.

You loved hanging out with someone who felt connected to nature just as much as you did. Nobody had really figured out just how connected Kiri was to Eywa, but just from watching how she carried herself you knew it was much stronger than any of the others- maybe even stronger than Tsahik.

The village was bustling with na’vi and very lively today, the simple sight of it all warmed your heart. You watched as preparations began to unfold for the clan’s annual Festival of Lights, a celebration in thanks to the spirits for a bountiful hunting season. It was your favorite time of year and everyone seemed much happier the days leading up to it- especially Neteyam. This was one of the rare times of the year he could actually relax and enjoy himself, free from all duties and allowed to simply live his life the way he wanted for a few days.

Or so you thought.

You decided that you would craft a gorgeous necklace for Neteyam with the rare marbles you hoped you’d find near one of the fresh water springs, and what better time to give it to him than during the festival tomorrow? You knew you couldn’t express your feelings to him without an offering. If a Na’vi woman favors a Na’vi male for her mate but has not been suggested to him by his parents or the man himself, she must present her love with an offering in which he can accept or decline. The clan was very big on arranged courtship, which made admitting your feelings so much more of a big deal and ten times scarier.

As you paced through the path to the Sully’s quarters you greeted the elders that passed you and smiled at the small children who were busy entertaining themselves with a friendly game of tag.  Before you knew it, you were in front of the hut that housed a big chunk of your childhood memories. You pulled back one of the curtains with your hand, poking your head through as to not barge in and waving at Kiri who sat criss cross on the floor while dicing up some fruits.

“[Y/n]! Come in, come in!” A welcoming grin made its way onto her face as she waved you inside the home, quickly standing up to discard her task embrace you in a hug that rocked you back and forth. “It’s been too long.”

You hugged her back and laughed at her exaggeration, pulling back from the hug slightly to roll your eyes at her. “It’s been a week, Kiri.” You quipped.

She held onto your forearms with her five-fingered hands, an overly serious look taking over her expression. “Yes, a week too long my sister!”

“[Y/N]!” A squealing Tuk came running out from the other room, her short braids bouncing with almost as much energy as the little girl they belonged to. She squeezed herself between you and Kiri, hugging your legs with so much force you nearly stumbled and beaming up at you.

“Hi TukTuk.” You chuckled at her excitement, stroking her braids affectionately. “I swear, it’s like every time I come over here you’re so much bigger than last!”

Tuk was like the younger sibling you never had, and even though she annoyed the absolute hell out of her siblings you loved having her around you, her constant optimism was refreshing.

The little girl accepted your compliment with a toothy grin, piping up to change the subject. “Neteyam told me to tell you he said hello! Can you date my brother already so I can have two sisters?” She questioned eagerly, jumping up and down on her toes.

Your eyes almost popped out of your head hearing the words that came out of her mouth. You blushed profusely, not knowing what to say and instantly looking at Kiri for help who was already hunched over in a fit of laughter. “Kiri!” You whisper shouted, watching her straighten up instantly.

She wiped a potential tear from her eye, clearing her throat and gently pulling her little sister from your legs. “Alright Tuk. [Y/n] and I have some activities to do so why don’t you go down to the village and find Mama, hm?” Kiri suggested, resulting in the little girl shrugging her shoulders and skipping off with contentment as if she hadn’t tried to blow your life up right where you stood.

Kiri gave you a suspecting glance and a teasing smile, using her fingers to poke at your sides while you tried to get your face back to its usual shade of blue.

“Don’t you dare.” You held a hand up in her face before she could begin terrorizing you, turning on your heels and grabbing her wrist to lead her out of the hut.

~~~

“Kiri, stop taking all the pretty ones! The least you could do is save some for me, this was my idea you know.” You scoffed, watching her scoop up a handful of small, gorgeous multi-colored marbles you had finally found after almost an hour of looking and dump them into her satchel. She shook her head and snickered at you, taking half the amount she collected for herself and dropping them into your bag which contained other materials that could be crafted into beads.

“Thank you.” You smiled, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at you just like her younger sister.

“Yeah, yeah.” The snarky girl crouched down to continue her search, waving you off with a hand while she sifted through the soil beneath your feet to find more. “Why do you need these again? I haven’t seen you make jewelry in ages, last time I asked for a necklace you said you didn’t make them anymore.” She queried.

You tightly pressed your lips together and nervously rubbed your arm with your opposing hand, shrugging off her question as if it hadn’t caused your brain to try and come up with fifty different answers that were far from the truth. “No reason, just wanted to make some things for my mother. Her birthday is coming up, wanted to give her something really special.”

Kiri narrowed her eyes at you, rising up so the both of you were eye level. God, you knew her connection with Eywa was absolutely insane, but since when did she have the power to hear someone else’s thoughts too?

“You’re lying. Her birthday was almost three months ago.” She spoke, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head at you with a smirk. “So, do you want to tell me the truth, or are we gonna sit here and act like you didn’t just forgot your own mother’s birthday?”

You let out a short huff, bringing your hand up to the bridge of your nose and pinching it. Of course she saw right through your excuse, you knew better than to lie to Pandora Jesus- at least that’s what Lo’ak used to call her. You would never say that to her face, though. Unless for some odd reason you were craving a mouthful of dirt for lunch. “Fine,” you started, looking away while you spoke and lowering your voice. “It’s for your brother.” You mumbled, the two of you deciding to start on your walk back to the village while the conversation proceeded.

“No way! Neteyam?!” She gasped dramatically, holding her hand up to her mouth as she attempted to look shocked. Your mouth fell open once realizing she was forging her surprised expression.

“Wait… you knew the whole time?” You gulped.

The look on your face made the slender girl titter with satisfaction. “No shit, both me and Lo’ak. Hell, you damn near drool every time you look at the man!” She sneered.

You groaned and threw your hands up in the air, more out of embarrassment than anything else. This was the first person you had told about your crush on Neteyam other than your mother, you truly thought no one else knew. To see her not even the least bit surprised made you wonder who else had caught on.

The two of you decided to start on your walk back to the village while your conversation proceeded. “Does he know?”

“Oh, of course not.” Kiri responded almost immediately, raising her arm to pluck a fruit from the tree above you. “You know my brother is oblivious to girls. He’s probably the most sought out in the village, yet he still finds it difficult to believe when someone likes him. He does talk about you quite a bit though.” She shrugged, taking a bite out of her newly acquired snack.

“Really?” Your ears perked up and the giddy smile on your face didn’t seem to help to hide the newfound hope brewing inside your chest. You ducked your head under low hanging branches, jogging a little to keep up with Kiri’s fast strides once you realized you were falling behind. “Well? What does he say?”

You could almost see the smile on her face from the back of her head, probably because you could hear it through her voice. “He said he misses hanging out with you, wants to do it more often. I believe that’s why he hasn’t chosen a mate, because once he does, the two of you won’t be able to spend time alone like that anymore.” The thought of your time being cut short for the second time right after the two of you had found each other again was enough to make you panic.

“I heard my parents talking last night. They’re wondering why he hasn’t picked yet.” She suddenly stopped walking and turned to face you, her hands grabbing yours with an encouraging smile. “So I may have put in a good word or two. After all, I think you’re a much better fit for him than any of the other girls.”

You finally felt as if everything was piecing itself together, your nerves began to melt away just like your heart did at Kiri’s words. Your gaze fell to the floor when you felt your face heat up like campfire and your tail began to swish with delight. “So, what I’m hearing is there’s still time?” You asked, sounding much more optimistic than you had intended.

Kiri’s eyes left your own and looked past your head, the corners of her mouth twitching into a mischevious grin when she seemingly spotted something you hadn’t. “I don’t know,” she started, grabbing your shoulders to turn you around. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Before you could even process the words that came out of her mouth, you were pushed forward with so much force that you stumbled out of the trees and into Neteyam’s line of sight. By the time you whipped your head around to hiss at Kiri, she was already gone.

You nervously turned back around, laughing to yourself at the stoic expression he carried around everywhere he went. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck every time you saw him, it was like your mind pictured him moving in slow motion simply to taunt you. He looked incredibly different from the years prior and you definitely were not complaining. And even though he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, it was pretty obvious how truly extensive and challenging his training must be. His arms had developed broad, toned muscles and you wondered if his abs would sound hollow had you knocked on them. You quickly straightened up when the solemn look on his face replaced itself with a bright smile once he picked your face out from the others.

You cleared your throat and tried to regain your composure as much as possible while he approached you, giving him a sweet smile in return and meeting him halfway.

“Hi.” You mentally cringed as soon as you heard the greeting your brain decided to choose. But lucky for you, his smile only got bigger. You could speak complete gibberish and he would sit and listen like he understood.

“Hey… How are you doing? With, you know.” He motioned down to your foot.

You tilted your head at him in confusion and it took you a few seconds to realize what he was referring to. Once it finally clicked, your cheeks flushed a bright red, remembering the predicament your injury had gotten the two of you into. “Oh! This old thing? Pshh.” You babbled like an idiot, looking around to try and focus on anything other than the handsome face in front of you.

He laughed at your display, the air around the two of you settling while you both tried to think of the words to say next.

“So I-“ Two voices overlapped as you guys opened your mouths to speak at the exact same time, making the both of you burst into a fit of laughter. You covered your mouth to hide your grin, shaking your head at him rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“You first.” He smiled.

You nodded your head and swallowed your pride, building up the courage for your request. “I really enjoyed flying with you on your Ikran the other night. And I was wondering if… maybe we could do it again sometime?” You questioned reluctantly, not entirely sure of what his answer would be. You figured spending some more time with Neteyam to prepare yourself for tomorrow would do your nerves some good.

“You’re not afraid anymore?” Much to your surprise he actually looked interested, his eyebrow raising along with the pitch of his voice. He couldn’t believe someone who had previously shown so much fear wanted to do the exact thing they were frightened of, again. Ikran rides were very exciting though, so really he was having a hard time believing you wanted to do it with him, again.

“No, I’m not.” You turned your head to the side a bit as you blushed. “But only because the mighty warrior helped me overcome my fear.” You teased.

Watching Neteyam trip and stumble over his words was like being able to come face to face with a Palulukan and not die. So in other words, extremely rare and not a common sight. He took your hand in his and looked down at you, hoping the loud beating of his heart would answer your question since his voice was having trouble staying steady in your presence. Your cheeks were sore now from how hard you were smiling.

“I would love-“

Just as he was about to agree to your proposal, an ear-bleeding voice made the both of you wince.

“Nete-yammm!” You watched as Eyiti waved her arm above her head like a madwoman and damn near sprinted in you and his direction. You cursed to yourself and rolled your eyes, which Neteyam did not happen to miss. Little did you know, he felt the exact same way about her as you did. Once she approached the two of you she batted her lashes at him and you swear you almost threw up in your mouth. Her eyes shot down to your intertwined fingers, the both of you begrudgingly releasing the other. You felt the urge to tighten your grip, but you knew it wasn’t a good look for the olo’eyktan’s son to be seen displaying public affection with a woman who had not yet been suggested to him.

She cleared her throat with satisfaction, completely disregarding your presence and continuing to eyefuck him. “Are you busy, ‘Teyam?”

The sound of her voice using the nickname you had reserved for him was enough to make your eye convulse as you felt irritation overwhelm your previously good mood. You dipped your head to the side a bit to catch her gaze, waving a hand in front of her face to break the trance she was in. “Uh, hello?” You spoke up, tilting your head to the side with a tight lipped smile once she glared at you. “Yeah, hi. It seems you’re missing a few letters there. You know, the ’N’ and the ‘E’.” Neteyam looked at you with an astounded expression, and even you were surprised at the fact that you managed to speak up. If you weren’t mistaken, you heard the slightest chuckle from him too.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and you felt a hint of accomplishment from ruffling her feathers a bit, only for her to turn her attention back towards him. “You promised you’d finish organizing preparations with my parents to be my date for the festival, remember?” She spoke, her hand now finding its way to stroke his arm.

Hearing those words come from her of all people felt like a knife driving right through your chest. You looked to Neteyam with disbelief clouding your eyes, hoping for something, anything to let you know that what she had just said wasn’t true. He only shut his eyes for a brief moment, opening his mouth to speak but a deep exhale followed instead of words like you expected. Her mouth curved into a sinister grin only you could notice. After dealing with her for so many years, you knew she would hide her true intentions behind fraudulent innocence.

You felt betrayed and you hated yourself for it. The two of you weren’t even together, you hadn’t even been suggested to him. You scolded yourself for even thinking the few hours the two of you spent together after years apart meant anything more than a friendly catch up to him.

He shifted his gaze to you, the look on his face more than apologetic. “I’m sorry, [Y/n]. I can explain this…” His voice was filled with remorse but his heart yearned to say more. There was something more than an explanation dancing behind his eyes, but you were much too embarrassed to look at him and discover it. He desperately felt the need to rectify the situation but you simply shook your head and took a step back.

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling exposed all of a sudden and not caring if you had failed to look unbothered. It was impossible to hide how you truly felt from him, your efforts would have been futile regardless of how hard you tried. “It’s fine, go.” You stopped your voice from cracking, daring not to look at him while you felt his stare only grow stronger.

You felt his fingers brush against your forearm as he reached for you, resulting in you raising your arms slightly to avoid his grasp. “I hope the two of you have fun.” You choked out, excusing yourself before you became subject to further humiliation. You heard his voice call out for you but there was no way you could turn back to face him, the tears you had made such an effort to keep unshed were now threatening to spill over.

You kept your head down as you walked, nearly falling back onto your bottom when your body came in contact with a ridiculously hard surface.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I should have been watching where I was going.” You blinked away your tears, looking up to see none other than Ta’olu staring down at you.

The tall male peered at you with a confident smile, amusement written all over his face, not at all minding that you had used him as an anchor to not fall over. “No worries, I was actually coming to find you.”

You cocked your head to the side with interest. You weren’t entirely sure why he would have been looking for you, seeing as the last time you had asked him to hang out he ditched you for some random girl he had met the day before. “Okay… what’s up?” You cleared your throat, trying to set aside what had just happened a minute ago.

His stance shifted slightly and he grabbed hold of your hand, the interaction not being nearly as enjoyable as it was with Neteyam. His hand on yours was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and hibernate for the rest of the year. His gruff voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his question being exactly what you feared.

“Would you be my date for the festival tomorrow?”

a/n:Isn’t Eyiti just the worst? And who the hell is this Ta’olu dude? 🙈*mischievous laughter* I’m so sorry for leaving y’all on a cliff hanger but I had to end this chapter here! I wonder what’s gonna go down in part 3 🤔 I’m sorry if i missed your tag! I wrote them down but when I entered it in some of them wouldn’t pop up 💔

Please like + reblog if you can it’s much appreciated 💞

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@eringaitskill @bwormie @fanboyluvr @ssc7514 @meivap @afro-hispwriter @hello1kittyz @melsunshine @katsukiswrld @mcdonaldsplayground @itscheybaby @neenieweenie @babyvinnie @msjae @laylasbunbunny @epicy0n @dreamersbelieveinus @elegantzippercashshoe

[neteyamslovrr]

Avoided

summary: your friends had been avoiding you, but neteyam is always close by to comfort you.

0.8k words, just a little blurb and vent in the form of fanfic LMAO

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

The Omaticaya were close knit people, and that included your friendship circle. You had three extremely close friends, known them since infancy and grown up beside them every second of your life. They meant the world to you, you just wished you meant that to them.

It had been a couple instances where you found your friends leaving without you, running into them while hunting or seeing them all eat together in a spot different to where you all would eat together. These times were eating at your heart, tears pooled in the bottom of your eyes as a overwhelming feeling of betrayal would rush over you.

You tried to push it down, not think much of it, its just a coincidence. They might’ve thought you were busy, or maybe they thought you were with Neteyam. It never hurt to ask though.

This time however, it was your last straw. It was going to break you and shatter you into a million pieces. Nothing would have prepared you for the world of hurt that you were about to face.

You were getting ready for a day out in the forest to forage, something you and your friends would do together even since you were children. Grabbing a satchel that Neteyam had crafted for you earlier that year and putting your knife into the pocket of the string from your loincloth. Without a knife, foraging would be incredibly difficult.

You set out to find your friends, walking towards your friends Epou’s tent. You walked up to the tent hearing soft chittering from your friends talking inside, you would have recognised their voices anywhere.

“Should we invite Y/N? Y’know she’s not a bad forager.” One of your friends asked as she earnt a gaggle of laughter from your two other friends.

“No! She’s too annoying, she’ll just slow us down the entire time. It’s easier without her.”

“Plus, why would we? We’ve been avoiding her for a reason. Because she’s so fucking annoying she can cry to Neteyam about it, all I care” You recognised Epou’s voice. It wasn’t the usual sweet tone that she had, it was menacing and cruel, it sent shivers down your spine.

You gasped softly, your throat tightening as your eyes started to weep. They were your friends. How could they say this of you? The feeling of betrayal was growing stronger making your hands shake and your lips quiver.

You had to leave, get out of there. You never wanted to see them again.

Tears in your eyes, you hurried out of your village, storming through the forest, sticks crunching under you heavy footsteps.

Finding a secluded spot, you rested your back against a large tree. As soon as your back hit the trunk your bottled up whimpers turned into loud sobs. Racking through your chest as your lips wobbled aggressively. Your throat ached from the sobs scratching your throat as they came out.

Neteyam was also out, he made it habit to walk around the forest every morning, to know they way around along with tracking to notify his father if he saw anything peculiar.

His eyes perked up, soft sobs were heard just left to him. Quietly, he walked towards but the sounds but quickly any sense of being stealthy vanished as he saw his love curled in on herself against a tree sobbing. His heart ached for you.

“Y/N? Y/N what’s happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He rushed over to you immediately, crouching beside your curled up figure as your throat racked out sobs. He laid a hand over your head stroking your hair back.

You knew it was you boyfriend, you could hear the panic in his voice. You sniffled as you looked up to see your boyfriends concerned face. A small frown appeared as he saw your swollen face. He took his hand and used it to embrace you, squeezing you tight.

“What happened my love?”

“It’s stupid Tey’ you don’t wanna hear.”

“If something is troubling my beloved this much, it is my duty to find out. Tell me Y/N please.” His hand caressed the small of your back as you shook in his embrace.

“Epou was saying cruel things. I’m no longer on of their friends.”

Neteyam let out a sigh as he rolled his eyes annoyed at your immature ‘friends’. He knew they were treating you badly, he just wished they hadn’t hurt you so much.

“They are just immature. Her words are from jealousy” You sniffled falling out of his embrace to lay in his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was calming.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.” Neteyam chuckled as he rubbed his hand up and down your arm, hoping that his touch would sooth you.

“I’m saying that because I truly mean it, Y/N your friends are skxwangs they’ll realise how awesome and cool you are later. But I promise you will always have me.”

“Thank you Neteyam.” Your crying had haltered, simmering down to soft sniffles as you dampen Neteyam’s chest with the remanence of tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: lil blurb coz i have a bit of writers block but! i have abt 20ish requests and i'm just sorting thru the ones i am going to write! hope you enjoyed reading

[cauliflowertree]

paradise found—george weasley.

summary: your ice cream falls :(

word count: will add later. it’s short tho.

fanfic no. 051

“alright, i promised you ice cream. what flavour would you like?” george asked as you left the three broomsticks.

“anything but plain chocolate,” you said, a smile upon your face as he walked a few paces ahead of you.

he nodded, speeding up towards the sweet shop. you sat down on a nearby bench and waited for him to return. it was so busy in hogsmeade this summer—shops were brimming with students and tourists—you could barely stand to be inside anywhere with the hot weather and crowds of people stuffed inside shops that were too small to manage them.

instead, you waited in the calm sunlight beaming down on the little town you’d decided to spend the day in. leaning back, you tilted your head to the sky and closed your eyes, soaking in each golden ray.

“got you strawberry!” shouted george a little distance away.

“lovely. what did you get?” you asked.

“pistachio,” he grinned.

“also lovely,” you smiled.

george handed you your strawberry ice cream in a little cone, and then the two of you began to stroll down the busy streets. everyone seemed as if they had somewhere to go, dashing to a fro without a care for those they might bump into. it was at the fault of one of these careless passersby that your ice cream ended up squished into the floor, with only the cone remaining in your hand.

you looked down at the solemn sight, your grip loosening on the cone, and then looked to george. he was still angrily eyeing the man who’d caused this upset, and when he turned back to you he tried to laugh it off. as did you.

“i’m going to cry,” you said in between a little laugh, half meaning it and half not.

“oh,” said george, bringing you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “don’t cry, sunshine. you can have mine.”

he held out his half eaten pistachio ice cream with a grin, but you couldn’t possibly take it from him. “no, i don’t want you to lose your ice cream too.”

“i don’t mind, love,” he shrugged.

you thought a moment. tentatively stretching your fingers out, you took the cone from him, taking a lick before holding it up to george.

“go on, we’re sharing.”

he chuckled lightly, “alright.”

you continued this way until the ice cream had been consumed, though george had insisted you alone eat the cone, before reaching the end of the village where you would continue a slow walk to the castle, hand in hand like always.

🏷 @imabee-oralizard @finns-arm-is-mint @inkluvs @basicallyjustmuggleremuslupin @corp0real @lee-says-things @flesh--amnesiac

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

NAMOR (MCU) X MEXICAN!OC

MASTERLIST

A/N: Remember you can find this fanfic on AO3 right here. Any feedback and/or comments are greatly appreciated <3 If you want to be added to the taglist, just say so!

Also, I think this is the first time I mention Mercedes' faceclaim. I originally envisioned her as Oaxacan model Karen Vega but it became too hard having to constantly picture an older version of her (she's 21) until @evita-shelby introduced me to Sofia Engberg and she's SUCH A GREAT FIT TOO especially after I came across this gif! So, special thanks to her! Now, without further ado, here's chapter XVIII

Warnings: Violence, weapons, death and un-aliving people. Language. Mentions of sexism.

Word count: 4,538

They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since they left Moni’s house undetected. The only sound around them was the relentless singing of cicadas. Mercedes usually found it to be soothing, but not then. Discretely observant, Namor noticed the way her fingers gripped the edges of the map she was using to find her way to the coordinates in the paper. He observed her locked jaw and how her eyebrows barely met in the middle of her forehead when she narrowed her eyes whenever the slightest noise reached her ears.

Mercedes was in her element. Still, something was new. He could see it in the way her knees were slightly bent to make as little noise as possible the closer they got to their destination, and in the way she never lowered her arms below her waist in case she needed to protect her chest. Talokanil knowledge taught by one of his best men and closest friends. Even after such a short time, he knew she would always remember to gather all her strength in her knees and elbows because that’s what Attuma always taught to shorter soldiers.

Too late he realized she had said something to him and was expecting an answer.

“Sorry, I thought I heard something behind us,” He excused himself.

“I said I’m worried because now they seem to know where the village is,” Mercedes repeated, swatting a low-hanging branch away, “Maybe you should have stayed behind to look after Moni and Antonia,”

“If they knew of their closeness to you, they would have targeted them too,” Namor reassured her, “They would have taken them as well,”

“Are you sure?” She asked, taking another look at the map.

“It’s what I would have done.”

“And do you think she’s still…?” Mercedes asked, unwilling to finish the grim sentence.

“She is. We’ll get her back.” He sounded so determined that a hidden, primigenial crook of her brain tingled in a pleasantly alleviated way knowing she wasn’t alone. He would help her. He would protect her.

“Still, there’s something else you should be worried about,” Namor gravely warned her, “Whoever did this knew there was going to be a celebration that day and the exact time at which the noise would be loud enough to camouflage the shooting. Either that or somebody else told them,”

“An outsider wouldn’t be able to randomly show up in town, much less ask about the celebrations without raising suspicion.”

Namor stopped walking and firmly placed a hand in front of Mercedes, halting her steps.

“Stop. There are more people ahead of us. I think we found them,”

“The coordinates are still a few kilometers ahead of us,” She whispered, taking another peek at the map.

“No, that’s probably where they want to make the exchange. We must’ve stumbled upon their campsite.”

Only a few meters ahead of them, settled at the bottom of a steep slope that led into a hollow, stood three large tents. Most of the activity seemed to be taking place inside them since outside, only about eight men circled the area brandishing long weapons.

“Me lleva la chingada. Three tents, of course,” Mercedes muttered, staring intently at them as if she could see through the thick canvas to determine where they were keeping her grandmother, “I guess we’re going to have to take them by surprise,”

“I’m faster. It will make more sense if I check all the tents and you take care of the ones that try to escape,”

“No,” Mercedes immediately objected, the mere thought of going their separate ways bringing up memories that manifested physically as an ice-cold grip on her heart, “No, we’re not splitting up,”

“Xmeech,” Namor placed his hand under her chin, softly turning her head towards him, “Their bullets cannot hurt me the way they would hurt you. But I can’t protect your grandmother and make sure none of them escape. I need you.”

Despite the situation, Mercedes managed to remain calm. She knew that, despite her chiich’s involvement, freaking out wouldn’t help anybody. By now, focusing on tracing and following a plan under crippling stress wasn’t foreign to her. She chose to focus on that Yet, her throat felt dry and raspy, like it was about to close up. Every time his soft exhalations caressed her cheeks, the pressure on her chest increased until breathing became a nearly impossible task.

“Which tent will you go to first?” She asked after releasing herself from his touch with a swift nod before rummaging through her bag.

“The left one,” Namor replied, his voice promptly reverting to his usual tone, back to his Talokanil warrior self that would be much more useful in this situation rather than this stupid infatuated youngster he seemed to occasionally, and inconveniently, turn into, “There is a blind spot in the shifts of those two men, and a ten-second window I can use to sneak in. That will give us the advantage if she’s there, and if she’s not the commotion will draw all the guards…”

“To the tent that needs the most protection, so I’ll know where they have her,” Mercedes chimed in with a complicit smile, which was proudly reciprocated by her partner. Before he left, she took a glass bottle filled with some sort of fuel and a piece of cloth for a wick, “If she’s not inside, light those fuckers up,”

“Táan wáaj a wéetel?” He asked, firmly pressing her hands together and encompassing them in his own.

“Ta wéetel.” She adamantly replied, removing her hands to shift them so they were holding Namor’s, giving them a tight squeeze. The minute she let go, he turned away and began stealthily making his way down the slope.

If somebody had told Namor just a few months ago that he would ever put himself at risk of being discovered just to keep an inhabitant of the surface safe, he would have laughed at their mere thought. However, as kind as the elderly woman appeared to be, deep inside he knew the true reason that drove him to do something as insane as raiding a camp with no preparation whatsoever and no backup was sitting on top of a hill doing her best to contribute to the mission. If only he had Namora and Attuma by his side, they would be done in less than thirty minutes. He hadn’t even been able to inform them of the reason for their delay. Hell, he wasn’t even sure of what would happen or whether she’d actually choose to return after they got out of there, but he decided to focus on the matter at hand. He was right. Two of the guards crossed paths and continued until they got lost around the corner. Right before he could rush into the tent, an unexpected guard popped outside. With a surprised curse, the man aimed his rifle at the warrior, who unwaveringly ignored his orders to stop as he kept approaching him.

Inside, a dozen men pried their eyes off the map splayed on the table before them almost simultaneously when several shots were fired outside followed by cries they did not expect to hear from any of their security personnel. Exchanging nervous glances, some of them even reached to their side to grab their weapons. Before they could begin to wonder what was going on, the man that had just left the tent crossed the entrance again, though not by his own foot. Instead, he flew several meters across the tent and fell on the wooden table so harshly that it broke in two before everybody’s eyes. However, they all turned to look at the only access to the tent when they realized much to their horror and confusion that the only sound coming from the outside besides the distant warning calls of the other guards, was absolute silence. And alarmingly slow footsteps unfalteringly moving towards them.

The minute the first tent went up in flames, Mercedes saw how the remaining guards either rushed to the burning tent or ran to the one on the far right. Not one of them tried to escape, and the urge to come closer was too powerful. Taking one last look at the treeline to make sure it was empty, she rushed down the hill and combed the edge of the remaining tent. Not even a minute later, Mercedes came across one of the guards, the element of surprise enabling her to shoot him down before he could place his finger on the trigger. Hastily picking up his weapon to replace her gun with it, she ran inside the middle tent expecting to find her grandmother inside. Instead, she was met with at least another six men from which at least three raised their guns at her while the rest hid behind a wooden table set in the middle. Swiftly dropping to the floor just in time to avoid getting hit by a rain of bullets, Mercedes practically rolled to seek refuge behind a metallic cabinet. The lack of hiding places made it easy for her to realize her grandmother wasn’t there, but the hollow sound the bullets made against the steel that guarded her prevented her from just throwing a Molotov cocktail and getting the hell out of there. The cabinet was bulletproofed, which could only mean that whatever was inside was extremely valuable. Mercedes took a deep breath and a quick peek at her assailants. There were in fact five armed men and three more taking cover underneath the tables. She firmly gripped the rifle and took a deep breath before leaving her shelter momentarily, opening fire against them and taking cover before they could respond. Three armed men and two under the table. “A ver pinche escuincla, ¿vamos a tener que deshacernos de tu abuelita o podemos hablar como gente adulta?” Alright, fucking brat, are we going to have to get rid of your granny or can we talk like adults? “¿Crees que por decir ‘pinche escuincla’ voy a creer que eres mexa, cabrón?” Mercedes yelled back from behind the cabinet, knowing damn well they were just trying to provoke her to lure her out. The man, despite attempting to use the lingo to cover it up, was definitely not a native speaker. This time, he replied in English. Do you think that because you said "pinche escuincla" I'll believe you're Mexican, asshole? “If any of us makes the call, the next time you see your grandma will be washed off on the riverbed. So you better come out here so we can talk it over.” After giving it some thought, Mercedes stood up and aimed in the direction of the voice with the rifle, despite knowing she was being aimed at. “This isn’t going to work unless you drop your weapon, sweetheart,” The sentence was issued in a warning tone. Mercedes’ blood boiled in her veins at the use of the nickname, but she clenched her jaw despondently and started to lower the rifle, willing to talk for long enough to buy herself some time to better assess the situation. That calm, logical disposition would only last for about five more seconds, right until she heard the mocking voice of one of the unarmed men under the table.

“Thank you. God forbid we should make a woman angry.”

Namor heard the shootout right beside him. Annoyed at the woman’s apparent inability to just do what she was told, he made use of his wings to survey their surroundings, hoping nobody had gotten away while Mercedes unsurprisingly jumped in harm’s way. At least he had made sure nobody in the first tent would be able to say what they’d seen there, and from the air, it looked as if everybody had taken cover and run inside either of the two shelters. He then rushed to the final tent, certain that the kidnapped woman would be inside. Instead, he found it to be nearly empty save for a table filled with scattered papers and old walkie-talkies. He reasoned that since the campsite wasn’t large enough to need a radio communication system, they probably were intended for those waiting at the coordinates that were given to Mercedes. Namor quickly went through the papers on the table, searching for something that could have information worthy to be spared from the fire. Instead, he felt relieved that it was he who found those documents and not Mercedes. There were pictures of her. Some were as recent as the first day they arrived in her hometown, and others appeared to have been taken months ago. She was doing mundane things such as walking the streets of an unknown city or talking on the phone. In one of them, taken through a window, she was sitting in a living room with a small coffee table full of printed photographs. Sometimes he forgot she had not been a soldier for a long time and had chosen to pursue other interests.

Some of the material, however, was confusing. She didn’t look much younger but still was dressed in camouflage apparel, depicted with some other people with the lower half of their faces covered with a bandana or a scarf. But those were undoubtedly her eyes. She was sitting on a rock, supporting her weight on a rifle as she stared at the camera. In another photo, she was standing in line with two other women that stared at the photographer with equally tired looks, a table before them filled with brown packages and three long weapons. The last one was a mugshot, and what baffled him most was the name on the plaque she held. It wasn’t hers.

Another round of gunshots in the tent next to him made him look up. Before he could worry, he could hear Mercedes’ voice above all the rounds shouting something along the lines of “a ver si con ese hoyo en la jeta se te quita lo machito, cabrón," Let's see if that hole in your mug takes away your macho attitude, motherfucker

It was then that he wondered whether she’d ever been truly mad at him. Probably not.

K'uk'ulkan then noticed the flames of the neighboring tent were starting to lick the edges of the one he was in, and he knew it was time to leave before his skin started to resent it. Right before exiting the tent, a sound made him turn around, his observant glance falling upon one of the walkie-talkies, from which some static emerged before a voice was distinguishable.

Mercedes sat down on the pierced remnants of the wooden table, trying to catch her breath. She thanked whatever deity that the men inside that were unarmed weren’t fast enough to grab the weapons of their fallen comrades to defend themselves. Taking down three men was exhausting enough in itself. However, she was far from relieved. She had seen the flames slowly take over the only remaining shelter, which indicated that her grandmother wasn’t there either. With no unchecked tents left, chiich still missing and Namor nowhere to be seen, Mercedes’ heart was beating faster than ever, so much so that she felt as if she was going to throw up. In fact, she was surprised that something like that had worn her out so much. She understood she wasn’t in her twenties anymore, but still… The woman sighed and continued to scan what was left of the papers she’d found inside the cabinet, which now rested on the table, hoping to find a hint of her grandmother’s whereabouts. Enthralled trying to piece together the fragments of information, Mercedes was oblivious to the agonizing man behind her desperately trying to reach the handle of one of the discarded guns. With one last colossal effort, he curled his fingers around the still-warm metal and aimed at her, confident of his chances of hitting his target since she was less than three feet away from him.

A loud bang startled Mercedes as she quickly spun around just in time to see a man dropping a gun and falling to the floor with a heavy thud, a large smoking wound covering the higher half of his back. Slowly making her way towards him, the woman intended to inspect the strange laceration as she knelt next to the body. While her eyes were focused on the edges of the injury, a voice spoke from the other side of the closest wall, calling her name. The interlocutor was hidden by the dark, thick canvas of the tent. Mercedes jumped to her feet, aiming at the spot.

“Stop,” The voice firmly instructed before she could take a single step, “Don’t t come any further. I’m not with them and I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Why would I trust somebody I can’t even properly look at?” Mercedes urged the person, never lowering her weapon or her guard. Silence followed. Unbeknownst to her, the stranger was amused.

“We have that in common. But I think that what I just did is enough proof for now.” They calmly replied. This person had a strict, yet velvety voice. Perhaps slightly condescending, too.

“Thanks. What do you want?” Mercedes asked through gritted teeth, begrudgingly granting the stranger that one point.

“I know who you are.”

“Big news. So did they.”

“No, Mercedes. I know who you are.” The voice insisted, slowly emphasizing the words so that they sounded more like a warning or a vague threat. Inside the tent, Mercedes felt a sharp pressure on her chest and realized she was holding the rifle so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

“What do you want?” Just like it happened with the previous sentence, a subtle change in her enunciation of the question the impatient inquiry now bordered on pleading.

“You have some powerful friends, don’t you?”

She didn’t like the course this conversation was taking. Not one bit. Speaking of powerful friends, where the hell was hers?

“If you’re wondering where he is, he should be getting to your grandmother any moment now at the coordinates these people sent you. She’s as alright as it was possible. Consider this a favor in exchange for another.”

“A favor?” She spoke again, the stranger’s ambiguous statements not doing much for her puzzled state.

“Did you really think they would have let either of you just walk away after you gave them what they wanted? After what they did to you some time ago in the caves one would think you learned something,”

“I wasn’t going to give them anything,” Mercedes argued defensively, “I never intended to negotiate.”

“I see,” The voice replied, mostly devoid of emotion but with a trace of surprise in it, “As I said earlier, your grandmother isn’t in harm’s way anymore, I made sure of it. But we both know there is no way to ensure her safety going forward, right?”

“You’re making it sound like there is. I’m guessing this is where you call in that favor?” Mercedes pressed her lips together, furrowing her eyes in concentration as she anxiously tapped her index against the side of the weapon, “What are your terms?”

“I have some powerful friends too, Mercedes. I can ensure your grandmother’s safety from any further attacks on her or the rest of your family. What I need from you in return is what these men asked from you. I want the laptop that contains all the information you have on Wexler and the research on the toxic spores,”

“Of course,” She replied, her grip on the rifle tightening again, “Who do you work for? Another government that’s going to do exactly what these people intended?”

“I can’t say much more, but I can assure you that we won’t use that information to make any weapons, or harm anybody. I give you my word.”

Despite her inability to see the owner of the voice, the emotion in it was real enough for Mercedes to ponder whether she should trust them. The contents of the laptop did not only include records on her and others or information regarding the toxic fungus, but also photographic evidence of the infested grotto right above an entrance to Talokan. And given the fact that whoever this was seemed to be aware of Namor’s existence, chances were they knew of the submarine city.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” She huffed in a slightly less defensive tone, “I don’t have the laptop with me. I told you, I wasn’t here to negotiate.”

“I suppose it’s…back there, isn’t it?”

Just like she suspected. They knew. Mercedes looked behind and around her despite being convinced she was alone. Or, more accurately, to make sure she was. Forgetting she was also hidden from the stranger’s sight, she nodded. After receiving no answer, Mercedes remembered and answered affirmatively in a barely audible whisper. She was met with a long, thoughtful sigh.

“Listen carefully. This is what we’re going to do. I’ll make sure your family is safe so you can go back and retrieve the hard drive of the laptop. I think I can get you four months. You come back to the surface, hand it over and that’s all.”

“And if I’m not back by then?” Mercedes asked after a lengthy silence.

“I don’t think my friends would wait for longer than that, and I won’t be able to guarantee your family’s safety anymore.”

Another silence followed. Fortunately, the mysterious person was proving to be rather patient.

“Can you promise me that none of that information will be used against my friends?”

This time it was the other part that seemed to hesitate and took longer to answer.

“Not if they don’t force us to.”

It wasn’t the most reassuring answer. Deep inside, Mercedes knew that even if they rescued chiich that day, she had no idea of what they’d do after. She didn’t even know in what state the whole ordeal had left her and didn’t even want to think about it. The best they could do was taking her back to her comfort zone, but Mercedes didn’t know whether the town was safe anymore. For her, and also for Moni and Antonia. If there were any more members of whatever organization this was, they would respond to what Namor and her had done that day. Harshly.  No matter how much she trusted her abilities to protect herself, Mercedes knew she could do little or nothing to fight off a larger number of assailants without Namor’s help if they decided to attack again, and he had to go back to Talokan��yesterday, technically. She looked back up, her lips still forming a fine line and a cold shiver running down her spine. She needed to give an answer.

Namor was visibly confused when he emerged from the thick jungle. First of all, he expected the prisoner to be surrounded by more guards, but there were none in sight. It was as if they’d just left her there in the middle of a clear, despite him having heard through the walkie-talkie that she’d been moved to the “arranged coordinates”. Second of all, it wasn’t just the old lady sitting there with an absent look. Right next to her, fighting to free herself, was none other than Antonia. While there was a piece of cloth lodged in her mouth, the woman glared at Namor angrily and yelled a muffled demand. He slowly approached them to make sure this wasn’t some sort of trap, never ceasing to look at their surroundings even while untying the knots that bound the elderly woman’s wrists together. Then, Namor removed the makeshift gag from Antonia’s mouth before starting to untie her as well.

“It’s her fault,” She cried with a quiet hiccup, “Every time something like this happens, it’s got something to do with her,”

Namor didn’t reply. If only she knew it had been them and nothing else that prompted Mercedes to jump into a ship full of armed men. Still, Antonia seemed to have understood his silence as permission to keep talking.

“And still you’re with her, huh? You must think she’s so brave. What did she tell you? That sob story of a little girl born into a world of violence who only ever did what was necessary to protect and avenge her loved ones? Pobrecita Santa Mercedes Mártir.”

His interest somewhat piqued, Namor slowed down for just one second before continuing to work on the knots.

“I don’t even know who you are but you seem nice, so I’ll give you some advice,” Antonia continued, her voice trembling both from anger and her earlier weeping, “Run. She might’ve fooled everybody with her fucking feigned regrets, but I know that woman. She’s not running from violence and never has. She craves it so much she just keeps finding new ways to get us into trouble and justify herself by claiming she’s doing something to repay all the damage she’s caused and keeps causing. Mercedes was the death of my father, she nearly was ours today and will be yours if you don’t watch your back around her.”

“Kän-än!”

The yell that came from the trees made Antonia stop talking and Namor drop the now loose rope and turn his head towards the sound. Mercedes emerged from the trees and couldn’t help but let a breathless smile tug at the edge of her lips when she spotted Namor standing there. Sadly, the happy moment didn’t last for long since the smile vanished from her lips the moment she laid eyes on her grandmother and Antonia sitting there. Of course, Mercedes first went to chiich.

“Chiich? Can you hear me?” The woman turned to look at her grandchild and nodded absently in complete silence. At least she could react to that.

“Na’, this is not home,” Chiich spoke with a raspy voice, “Am I being carried with my ancestors?”

Mercedes threw her arms around her grandmother and buried her head in the crook of her neck, a few tears already spilling down her cheeks as she shook her head negatively.

“Not yet, in chan nikté. Not yet. We’ll take you back home,”

Caressing her grandmother’s hair, Mercedes turned to look at Antonia, whose eyes were fixated on the dirt on her fingernails.

“Are you okay?” She asked. Antonia nodded and dryly asserted she was fine.

Feeling a wave of much-needed relief wash over herself, Mercedes tackled a surprised Namor in a hug, silently thanking him for his help. He knew it would take her a little to admit she wouldn’t have done it without his help, but for now, feeling her breath against his neck and as she held him tightly against her would do. Namor let himself melt into the embrace, sliding his arms around her slowly to test her reaction. When he finally pulled away, he did it just enough to keep their noses touching to once again see if she tried something, anything, that might indicate that whatever had elicited her reaction earlier on top of that tree was still there.

Mercedes’ mouth hesitantly hovered over his, a shaky breath left her lips and reached his ears, coursing through his body like a violent shiver in stark contrast with her warm breath against his face. Leaning in, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corners of his mouth on each side before thanking him again.

Too preoccupied with the ambivalent, hard-to-predict displays of affection from the woman before him, K’uk’ulkan was unable to perceive the figure that watched from the trees.

The Translations

Táan wáaj a wéetel?: Are you with me?

Ta wéetel: I'm with you

[queenveela]

Hogwarts legacy MC bio/headcanons

Avian Grey was born to a Welsh witch in the Pyrenees, France (close to Beauxbatons) she does not have any memory of her parents. She was raised by her mothers sister and research partner “Aunt Efa”.

While researching magical creatures in the Pyrenees, Avians mother had an affair with a man from one of the local villages, all Efa knew about him was that he was from a family that had strong Veela lineage. Avians mother passed away not long after giving birth to her.

Ave and Efa had a very nomadic lifestyle traveling from place to place for purpose of Efa’s research. She gained a lot of experience fighting due to run ins with poachers and other undesirables during their travels. Perhaps it was due to her fate as a wielder of ancient magic that the constant traveling caused her to be late in her admission to Hogwarts, and enter as a fifth year.

Her patronus/potential animagus: A hippogriff. Powerful and dignified, once you earn her trust she will protect you fiercely. If you cross her she will fight you.

Coincidentally her name is French for “bird like”.

I like to think the hippogriffs appearing in her storyline are immensely symbolic having to do with those she trusts. For example during her first trip to Hogsmeade with Sebastian two hippogriffs flew out of the forest, perhaps foreshadowing her relationship with him. Especially as they shared their first kiss after she took him to ride highwing (see fanfic for full story). Additionally the creatures have shown up in situations that involve Natty and Poppy.

Her interests:

-flying and magical beasts, love kneazles and has an entire vivarium just for kneazles. Despite her princess like appearance she likes to play as a beater during quidditch, after all she loves a good fight.

-She gets a high off of fighting. During 7th year her and Sebastian spends alot of their “dates” raiding poacher camps, not only because she wants to save beasts and loves fighting but they both find it insanely attractive watching each other fight (hence why their first duel in Hecat’s class is when they started to like one another) their kink is raiding different poacher camps and then doing it in the empty tent afterwards

Her strengths:

Excellent duelist

Highly ambitious and competitive (can also be a flaw if it gets out of hand)

Fiercly protective of those she loves.

Her flaws:

-Slight temper

-Jealous and sometimes manipulative but she’s better at hiding it than Sebastian. If she sees Sebastian talking to another girl she’ll use subtle tactics to get his attention might take her hair tie out for a second to adjust her hair, he doesn’t get to see fully undone often (until they become official) so it gets his attention, she also might loosen her tie and unbutton the first button of her shirt exposing more of her neck. If she’s feeling extra ambitious she’ll go talk to another student who isn’t Ominis, Poppy or Natty and be mildly flirtatious in asking them for help with something.

-Not always the most trusting..better with beasts than people. However she adores Poppy, Natty and Ominis.

-Easily distracted by anything having to do with Sebastian. Will drop important tasks to spend time with him.

After Hogwarts:

After Hogwarts Her and Seb elope in a quiet ceremony with only their close friends present. They start off as aurors but after Ave nearly gets killed while pregnant with their third child they calm down with the fighting obsession and settle for a more quiet lifestyle. They end up taking over Brood and Peck when Ellie decides to relocate and spend a majority of their lives taking care of magical beasts. They eventually wind up having a total of four daughters and three sons, out of which is a pair of twins (boy and girl like Sebastian and Anne). Because they lost so many of their family members when they were younger, a large family is important to them. Their family goes on to be a very well respected wizarding family throughout the decades. Newt Scarmander visits their shop regularly and they’re really fond of him, usually selling him beast-care tools at a high discount. They also see Poppy regularly as she is the care of magical creatures professor at Hogwarts.

[mtdthoughts]

Her Mistake (Migi & Dali Thought)

This post contains *spoilers* for up to Episode 11 of the Migi & Dali anime.

Looking back, I was thinking: This really was a huge mistake, wasn't it?

Don't get me wrong, Metry clearly deserved better, and certainly deserved to have her son back after having him stolen from her and being imprisoned for five years.

That being said, it was a terrible idea to do what she did, because:

She left her five-year-old sons by themselves, sleeping unattended in a tent outside of town in the middle of the night. They could have been attacked by animals or people who meant harm.

She left her sons without saying anything to them. Even if she said "I'm going to pick up your other brother," I think they would have behaved and waited for her. They were just left completely in the dark without anywhere to go, and it's honestly a miracle that they survived at all.

She climbed up to Eiji's window (just like Migi), which was already risky by itself, and expected Eiji to accept her. I know she meant well, but I don't think she was aware that without a proper explanation, Eiji was most likely going to freak out. If he didn't push her, he was most likely going to alert Reiko.

And just like that, Metry's fate was sealed, and her death left lasting impacts on all three of her sons:

Dali: Lost his mother and forced to survive alone with his brother, leaving him with a desire for revenge that was intensified by his new role as the de facto parent and Metry's replacement in a codependent relationship with Migi.

Migi: Same as Dali, but his desire for revenge was not as strong, and he was also part of a codependent relationship with Dali where he would always depend on Dali for guidance and support to the point where he tried forcing himself to be like Dali.

Eiji: Left with long-lasting guilt and trauma that is evidenced by his bed-wetting, which was only worsened after Eiji's repressed memories are awakened by Dali and after he was told that he killed Metry.

This makes me think of these shots:

Obviously, Reiko was wrong in her view of Metry as a devil who casted a curse on her, but ironically, Metry did end up indirectly cursing her kids because of her death, two of them with revenge and an unhealthy codependent relationship, and the other with long-lasting trauma. The cycle of violence almost continued until it was finally broken in the events of the later half of the story.

I'm sure Dali, who was most obsessed with avenging his mother, was the most shocked when he realized what she did and the mistake she made. I'm sure he still loved her, but also to some extent saw her as partly responsible for his long-standing suffering. This could explain why he reacted the way he did after EIji told him they were brothers.

This leaves me wondering what Metry could have done differently.

She could have just taken the twins and forget about Eiji entirely. Or at the very least, try to come back for Eiji when her twins have grown old enough to take care of themselves.

She could have confronted the issue directly by talking things out with Reiko, as miscommunication was a big reason why their relationship drifted apart to begin with (as with Migi and Dali's).

She could have also confronted the issue directly by talking to Akira or the police, and I think it's likely they would have taken her side, and Reiko could have gotten the help she needed.

Even if she insisted on taking back Eiji, she could have just told her twins what she was doing, so that they wouldn't be as confused and angry by her death.

Even if she insisted on taking back Eiji and keeping it a secret, she could have left the twins with someone trustworthy in Origon VIllage, such as the Sonoyamas.

I'm actually quite interested in the last point, as I think it could make for a good AU fanfic or a spin-off. What if Metry befriended the Sonoyamas and entrusted them with Migi and Dali while she tried to take back Eiji? Since her death was only eight years before the start of the story, I'm sure the Sonoyamas were in the village back then and still hoped for children, so this story could definitely work. The twins would then grow up with the Sonoyamas and treat them as their parents while waiting for their mother to come back. Perhaps the Sonoyamas would keep Metry's actions a secret because they thought the twins were still too young to know. Maybe Dali would slowly pick up on clues of this secret, and once he finds out the truth, alienate the Sonoyamas out of feeling betrayed. He would then go after the Ichijo family, and then it would be up to Migi to help bring his brother back to his senses. I really like this idea since it would bring a new perspective with the twins already integrated into Origon Village and would introduce the mystery and revenge elements in a different way.

Anyway, that concludes this silly thought of mine.

[castlebay-crossing]

Summary: When Aisling leaves her hometown for the island of Castlebay, as part of Tom Nook’s Deserted Island getaway package, all she expects is sun, sand and plenty of solitude. But when she gets there, not everything is as the brochure said. Secretive villagers, judgemental neighbours, and an antagonistic photographer turn out to be the least of her worries, however, when the mysterious villager in tent three turns up dead one night after a vicious storm that left the only plane off the island grounded. Someone on the island is a murderer. And it’s up to Aisling to work out who it is. Before they come after her, too.

Warning: Major character death, some description of violence

Other Links: Readable on AO3 and FFN.

A/N: Hi everyone!A short and sweet update! I'm so sorry I got so distracted from this fic. New Horizons ate a bunch of my time and then I was prepping my murder mystery novel to go out to beta-readers and yeah. No excuses, really, but here I am again :)Thanks for sticking with me and I hope you've enjoyed! :D

.-.-.

I waited until nightfall to leave the tent.

Muffy’s suggestion that our mysterious other neighbour didn’t come out unless it was dark had circled around my head all day. I needed to know, without a doubt, who he was. And, most importantly, if he was the person that had been following me around.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled eleven. I stuck my head outside the tent, into a cocoon of blackness that swallowed everything up. I hesitated before stepping out.

The darkness would have me at a disadvantage and I still hadn’t replaced the lantern I’d accidentally broken on my first night here. I really should have replaced it. I assumed Tom Nook’s store carried basic stuff like that? Either way, it was too late now, and I was left with the mediocre light of the Nookphone to navigate me through thickets of trees and treacherous grounds.

It took a long time to find the hill where Ross’ tent sat. Mentally kicking myself, I wondered why I hadn’t made a note on the Nookphone with its location. And then, when I eventually did stumble across it – totally by accident as I ran from a particularly aggressive stink-bug – I was left with a dilemma.

How was I going to get up there?

I wasn’t exactly a picture of athleticism, so scaling cliffs in the pitch black was definitely out of the picture. That only left me the steep hill, practically vertical in its incline, and littered with prickly brambles. I craned my neck, trying to spot the tent among the trees, possibly a tell-tale glow of a lamp or lantern. What if I got there and he wasn’t even there? It would be a waste of time – and unnecessary pain – if no-one was home.

Don’t talk yourself out of it, Aisling, I told myself. You need answers. If he’s not there, well, you’re just going to have to wait until he comes back.

Resolve hardened, I started up the bramble path.

It was every bit as painful as I feared it would be. The backs of my legs burned with the strain of climbing, the brambles grasped for my bare legs – shorts, why did I wear shorts on a deserted island? – and scratched my skin, leaving stinging peals of blood. Looks like I’d be back into that medicine before the day was out.

The hill plateaued at the top. The tent sat behind a crop of trees, obscuring any view of the island beyond it, but the clearing was kept reasonably free of foliage and clutter. A fire had burned to embers in a nearby pit. A wooden table was pulled up to a tree-stump, hacked through, and covered in food wrappers. A lamp sat by the tent. I wanted to turn it on, but I was suddenly terrified of Ross appearing, startled by the light, blindly attacking the intruder to his base camp.

Using the light from the Nookphone, I looked around the tent. It was a larger one than mine, considerably so, and I nursed a small feeling of irritation at my own cramped surroundings. There didn’t seem to be anyone home.

Behind the tent was baskets and baskets of wood, neatly chopped, and arranged with military precision. What could any one person want with so much wood?

I took another few steps, and then, without warning, light flooded the campsite. I swore, tripped, and fell backwards with a shriek. A basket of logs came toppling down with me.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The person standing in the light of the lantern was at least six-foot-tall and wide in the shoulders. A basket of wood was strapped on his back and, to my horror, a sharpened axe dangled loosely in his left hand. I squeaked and shuffled backwards, wiping out another basket in the process.

He glanced down at the axe in his hand and dropped it to the ground. “Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He said all the right things, but flatly and dulled of any emotion. Not exactly the most comforting promise.

“I’m… I’m sorry!” I garbled. “I… I, uh…” Now that I was here, confronted with – presumably – Ross, right in front of me, any traces of the carefully rehearsed speech I’d prepared had gone right from my head. “You’re… Ross, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m Aisling.” I tried. “I just moved here.”

“I know. I saw your name on the map. You didn’t answer my question”

“I…” I floundered. “I came looking to meet you, I guess?”

Ross dropped the logs to the ground, the crash splitting the silence. “I don’t want visitors,” he said, lifting the axe again.

Mildly fascinated, I watched as he set one of the discarded logs on the tree stump and used the axe to chop clean through it. It was almost hypnotic to watch as he worked himself into a rhythm. Swing, chop, new log. Swing, chop, new log. He had almost worked through the entire basket when I eventually remembered why I was here.  

“I wanted to ask you something.”

He kept chopping. Didn’t even turn to look at me or acknowledge my question. I moistened my lips and summoned what little courage I had.

“Someone’s been following me.”

The chopping stopped.

“Not me,” he said, eventually. “Maybe one of the other residents?”

“I’m not sure.” I said. “The only other human resident is someone I already know. I don’t think it would be him.”

“You think. Which means you don’t know.” The chopping started up again. “You haven’t known him that long, have you? Certainly not long enough to put that kind of trust in someone.”

My words died in my mouth. I swallowed them back down.

“Put it this way, Aisling,” he said with another swing of the axe. “You can’t trust anyone here. Nothing good brings people like you and me to a place like this.” The wood splintered, half-cut, and he swung again, a thunk reverberating through the woods. “You want my advice? Cut your losses. Go home.”

“I can’t go home.”

I didn’t mean to say it. The words were so puny that I hoped they’d skated by unnoticed. Instead, Ross swung his axe to his shoulders again.

“Then I suggest you watch your back.”

With that, he gathered the logs and ducked inside his tent, the zip pulling closed behind him. I waited a long time before I found the courage to walk back into the darkness, illuminated only by the Nookphone, back towards my own tent and the uncertainties that lay there.

[patternswillfall]

I wrote this at last! First chapter, a little teaser/prologue went up today! Read it here on Tumblr! It’s also on AO3 and FFN. 

It will be tagged under “The Villager in Tent Three” on @castlebay-crossing​ and this current blog. You can blacklist using that tag or “long post”.

Thank you!

I... really want to write this

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Quick question sorry if this has been asked before: do you know any Johnlock fanfic where they’re extremely sensual? Like not just making love but just super methodically drawn out and slow and sweet?

Hi Nonny!!

Ahh, because of this ask, I went through my bookmarks to see if I have any listed with “sensuality” so that’s what this list is!! It definitely doesn’t have all of my fics because I have to go back through them and tag them, but in the meantime, enjoy what I started tagging a few months ago when you sent me this ask, LOL <3

As always, add your own fics here, Lovelies!!

SENSUALITY

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[anauthore]

Escape From Halloweentown {Jack Skellington x Reader} CHAPTER 1

Summary: When a game of hide-and-seek goes wrong, you find yourself lost in the woods without a way home. Whether it be fate, or just dumb luck, you suddenly find yourself in a far bigger predicament than you ever thought you would be- and it’s not just because you can’t seem to find your little brother.

**Pairing: **Reader / Jack Skellington. A very slow burn fic.

NOTE: This is a full-length fanfic! If you don’t want to read chapter by chapter on tumblr, please use the following links to read in a different format / on a different website!

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You had thought the doors in the trees lead to a cozy, hollow trunk, or even just a black-filled void of some solid decorative substance. Of course, once you found yourself launched onto the ground in front of you, sprawled out after trying and failing to break your fall, you quickly came to realize that that obviously was not the case.

You grunted, wheezing in the air you’d just had knocked out of you. Once you managed to scramble to your feet, you brushed yourself off, picking the pebbles and other woodland debris from your stinging palms and knees. The inflicted areas burned, and you idly ran your fingertips over the little divots they’d made into your skin before you turned around to face the door. Or rather, doors.

They still were attached to the circle of trees you’d found in the beginning, all towering over you by miles as they stood stoic and unmoving as trees always are. Out of both a burning curiosity and an insatiable impulse, you reached forward toward the gleaming knob to twist it, yet it was as stiff as a board. You furrowed a brow, trying yet again, but it didn’t move.

It didn’t move.

You looked beyond the massive trunk in front of you and out toward the horizon, where the sun had just started to come up. The entirety of the sky was painted a fruitful orange, and despite the beauty of the picture, you were more confused than you’d ever been before. The sun, as warmth-emanating as it was, sat there, climbing in a direction opposite of where it had just been moments before.

You blinked. And then you blinked again.

And then you squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your fists, digging the ends of your nails into your palms to ground you with some semblance of pain.

It was almost too easy to convince yourself that everything you’d just experienced was, in fact, a dream- yet still you found yourself trying your hardest to cling to the façade. It definitely seemed more real than the reality that was currently right in front of your closed eyes in the moment.

You sighed, and when the sun didn’t revert back to the other side of you, and the doorknob still didn’t turn, you gave up. 

You turned on your heel, tentatively at first, but then started to walk away. You didn't know where you would end up, but using this newfound daylight for something other than trying to convince yourself you were crazy is the best you could do. You crunched browned leaves under your shoes, their steady rhythm keeping you going.

Crunch crunch crunch crunch…

You breathed in and out to the beat of your own footfalls, so lost in the monotony that you didn't even realize there had been a dirt path bare of grass and leaves before you. You'd been so focused on figuring out what had just happened that the transition into silence didn't even faze you, so when you finally did notice you were actually heading somewhere, you were surprised.

Your pace quickened, excitement coursing through your veins. Maybe there was a town nearby, or at the very least, someone's backyard. As long as you had somewhere to go, you could make it work. 

The trees started to thin, as did the grass and underbrush that had surrounded you nearly the entirety of your journey. The forest itself pushed back, and ahead you could make out gnarled buildings that curled and rose toward the grey sky. Although the architecture was odd, especially by modern standards, you couldn't help but smile. It was a town! There had to be people here that could help you, and if you were lucky enough, maybe you’d find someone who’d seen your brother.

The clouds fogged the distant towers, making it seem so far away. You didn’t let that deter you, however; you passed the opening in the trees and met a dull graveyard with twisted tombstones and gnarled wording carved into them. You furrowed a brow and stopped for a moment, taking in the sight before you. These stones were surely unlike any you’ve ever seen, the lettering curling in such a way that you couldn’t make out what it said other than the dates in which these people had died: 1743, 1820, 1789, 1650, etc, etc.

Your eyebrows raised and mouth parted to breath, surprise etched in your features. You didn’t live in the north, where the pilgrims settled and died as early as the 1600s, and you didn’t know of anywhere around that could remotely match these dates of death. It was astounding to you that there had been people living here during that time- and then your shock turned to wonderment. The headstones all had one thing in common, aside from the material they were made of; none of the dates had passed the mid-1900s. Where were you? And what kind of town looks like this, with old buildings and outdated graveyards?

Shaking off the oddness of the situation, you left the line of tombs, only glancing back a couple times to make sure that you’d seen the dates correctly. You trudged on until the blackened iron fence that enclosed the rest of the graveyard came into view, the gate pointed and an unmistakable jack-o-lantern etched into it’s bars. It was propped open, it’s bottom hinge broken and the butt of the gate sunk into the dirt. From the path, you could see stones, and eventually a cobble route that was indistinguishable from the stone archway and wall that closed in the uncanny town in all its glory.

The alleyways were mostly empty, save for an occasional statue you mistook as a person. There was no litter among the lines of houses; just empty trash cans, rusting bars on windows, and locked doors to accompany the already peculiar feeling of the place. In the distance, the crashing waves of the somehow-running fountain gave some life to the town center. This, of course, was one of your only indications that there were people here at all; why would the fountain be running if there wasn’t anyone to manage it? Everything was clean, too- so this place must be a town of hermits, with outdated traditions and their own ancestors in their graves.

You sighed, and noticed the sun still creeping over the horizon. It hadn’t taken you long at all to get here, and usually that would be a good thing, but now that you were perched on the fountain’s edge looking at the vastly differing houses around you, you weren’t so sure that this place would be of any help. If anything, you were scared. You very plainly not even a full-fledged adult yet, but here you were, in the middle of God knows where looking for your little brother where he didn’t seem to be.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you instinctively sniffed to get rid of the stinging sensation. You were here for your brother, and no one else. That meant that, despite the scary situation, you would go door to door and ask for help if you had to. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

All the houses here were menacing in their own way, so, as you did when you chose a direction to walk in, you just turned toward a house and decided to walk toward it. You breathed in and made your way to this particular house’s stairs, stepping up one to plant three loud knocks on the front of a surprisingly sturdy wooden door.

You stared at the outside of the building. The windows didn’t have bars, like the others; instead, there were rotting boards covering the openings. The more that you looked at the exterior, the more you realized that there would be no way for any semblance of light to creep in, which made you raise an eyebrow in question. A moment more passed, and you knocked again, growing impatient with this empty village. Right as your knuckles brushed against the door for the third time, it swung open, revealing the dark interior and a tall, thin man clad in black standing before you.

“Yes?”

His voice was high, but it fell and rose as though it were a teen greeting her friend in a sing-songy way. You gave him a once-over, realizing that not only was this man inhabiting a house that could be compared to an abandoned lot, but he was also dressed as a vampire… in the middle of November.

“Uh, I was looking for my brother. Have you seen him?”

He had to squint to see you against the light of the outside, but even so you could tell he was looking you up and down. Though you had no idea what was going through his mind, you could tell that he was probably just as confused as you.

When he didn’t reply, you decided to elaborate; “We were playing in the forest, and he got lost. I don’t know if he ended up here, but could I at least use your phone? To tell my dad I’m safe. Mine’s dead, I can’t reach him.” You stopped yourself before you continued to ramble on, biting your tongue and hoping he could help you.

He didn’t say anything at first, and you thought that he might not respond at all. You opened your mouth to speak once more and the door closed in your face. You had no time to be shocked before it opened once more, creaking on its ancient hinges. He stepped back and gestured behind him, his cape draped over his arm as if he were Count Dracula.

You bowed your head and thanked him as you stepped into the very dimly lit room, the only source of light coming from an old lamp that sat in the corner of the room, which seemed to be nearly burnt out. You glanced about and saw that it wasn’t just this man’s costume that was vampire themed…

His décor was littered with Victorian era styles, a large coffin in the corner next to the lamp, slightly larger than the lopsided grandfather clock that sat next to it. It didn’t seem to be running, but you wouldn’t be able to tell even if it was. Wary, you seated yourself on the edge of the couch, hands folded in your lap as you watched the vampire-enthusiast close the door gently and look at you. Your eyes took a moment or so to adjust, but once they did, you realized that the interior of this place was nearly as dreary as the rest of the town.

“So, what did you want again, dear?”

You cleared your throat, nervousness coursing through you. “To use your phone, if that’s alright.”

He cocked a brow and glanced to the side, thinking before he responded in a hushed tone; “Let me see if I have one to use… just give me a moment.”

He was gone, around the corner and down what you thought was a hallway- it was too dark to really see anything, but you figured since he lived in this house, he had memorized its layout perfectly. You sighed, twiddling your thumbs as you waited, still thinking about the man’s obsession with the popularized blood-sucking creature.

 He returned, floating across his carpeted floor with no phone in hand. Trailing behind him were two shorter figures, both dressed the same as he was with long black capes and an equally dark robe. You couldn’t tell if they were related, or just friends, but they all seemed to have one thing in common; the idolization of the vampire. This, of course, worried you some. What if they were to try and suck your blood? Or maybe they were some sort of killer posse? If that were the case, though, then surely this town wouldn’t be as empty as it was. Surely, you thought, they’d already have done something to me by now.

The tallest one- the one which had answered the door for you- informed you that these were, indeed, his brothers. They were both shorter than he, albeit heavier and wider. You smiled half-heartedly as a greeting and looked back to the original.

“So, did you find a phone?”

“A phone? What’s that, Prince?” One of the brothers drawled, his voice as old and scratchy as the other’s.

“Well, no, I didn’t. But I know someone who can.” He elected to ignore the previous question and instead followed it up with a request from the other two; “Go get Jack. He’ll know what to do.”

With a curt nod, the brothers practically floated out of the front door, arms over their heads as a classic vampire would most likely do to shield themselves from the sunlight. The tallest stayed- Prince, he had been called. He didn’t sit down, as you were, nor did he really move from his standing place.. The silence in the room settled, thick and heavy, until you were so fed up with it that you decided you had to speak to preserve your own sanity.

“Uh, I like this room. It looks very nice- it’s really unique.” You smiled a thin-lipped smile and looked to him, gauging his reaction. He had already been staring at you- you chalked it up to him having not had guests in a long while. He nodded, not smiling when he responded; “I like it too.”

You didn’t like the tension, nor did you enjoy just sitting around, however you needed a phone. Or at the very least, someone more capable of getting you one than Prince. Summoning all your patience, you waited.

You were lucky that you didn’t have to wait very much longer. You’d been bouncing your leg and fiddling with the dead skin on your fingers the entire time, and you didn’t want to seem too nervous or scared. You had a feeling that it might’ve been rolling off you in waves, so you tried your best to stifle the urges. 

Your ears perked up after a minute or so more, alerted to a crunching sound outside of the door. Both you and Prince looked at it before it was pushed open by the shortest brother, who bumbled inside ungracefully, followed by his other similarly dressed family member. You looked passed him, expecting another vampire, or maybe even a normal human person, but what stood in the archway was so much more than what you were expecting.

It was a skeleton. 

[summahsunlight]

Worth the Risk, Part 13

Rating: Mature(18+only)

Word Count: 2120

Pairing: Army Pilot!Poe Dameron x Nurse!Reader (1940s AU)

Summary: It’s the 1940s, Army pilot and Captain Poe Dameron is flying on missions for the United States Army in Europe.  After being shot down off the coast of France, Poe wakes up in an Army hospital in England, to find you, a nurse, taking care of him. Throughout the process of his recovery, Poe finds himself falling for you, and even though you, for the most part, maintain a professional relationship with him–you’re falling for him as well. Both of you know the risks of falling in love during a war, but then again, both of you have never cared much for being cautious.

Warnings: Angst, gunshot wound, blood (nothing graphic)

Start from the beginning!

Taglist: @fanfic-addict-98​, @thescarletknight2014​, @blushingwueen​, @americasassromanoff, @ginger-swag-rapunzel​, @spider-starry​, @totelpoedameron, @captain-america5, @liadamerondjarin​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @paintballkid711​, @justanotherblonde23​, @castiel-barnes​, @itspdameronthings​

If you like to be added to the taglist just let me know. This series is winding down and I only see it having a few more parts. I hope you are still enjoying it! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!🥰❤️

There had been very little time to breathe since the Army had marched into Paris. They were continuing their push to Germany, which meant endless bombing runs for Poe and Iolo. Endless bombing runs meant very little sleep and living in leaky tents in the woods--Poe had lost more crew than he could ever have imagined in his worst nightmares during this time and the Army granted his squadron a 48 hour leave. Immediately he went to work on finding a way to Paris, on a finding a way to spend as much of that leave with you before he was inevitably back in the air being shot at.

He sat, slumped in his seat on the train, reading over your latest letter. You had spent a lot of time with freed prisoners and your heart was breaking it smaller and smaller pieces each day. Poe wished he could have made it back to Paris sooner to hold you; he could feel your pain in every stroke of your flawless handwriting.

By the time the train arrived in Paris, Poe had read your letters over three times. Tucking them into his rucksack, he slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way off the train. He knew that you would be waiting for him on the platform but when he laid his eyes on you for the first time in months, he couldn't help but smile.

"Poe!" you cried, waving wildly, your smile just as wide as his.

Moving through the crowd, Poe made his way to you, dropping his rucksack at your feet, cupping your face between his hands and kissing you.

You eagerly returned his kiss, wrapping your warms around his neck and melting into his solid form. When you pulled away from his warm lips, you sighed, "I missed you."

He stroked your cheeks with his thumbs and gazed at you with loving eyes. "I missed you, too, sweetheart."

"I wish you had more time to stay in Paris."

"I know; me too. We just have to make the most of it."

Sighing, you rested your forehead against his. With some luck in a few months you would be together back home in America, planning your wedding, meeting each other's families--the war nothing but a distant memory. "Are you hungry? There's a small little cafe near my apartment. By the way, Jess can't wait to see you."

Poe chuckled and pulled away. He reached down and picked his bag up in one hand, and grasped yours in the other. "She just wants to ask me questions about the new recruits, you know if they're cute and available."

You laughed while you walked out of the train station. "That's not all true," you argued with him. "She likes you too."

"Not as much as that sergeant from North Dakota."

"Well, yeah, she can't kiss you but she can kiss him."

"You're the only I want to kiss, sweetheart."

"Smart answer."

He gave your hand a squeeze and laughed. He'd missed you so much over the last several weeks and he wasn't sure when he would be able to see you again--already Poe's heart was breaking thinking about having to leave Paris in two days.

You were just as heartbroken at the same thought--but you did your best to hide your sadness from Poe. Neither of you talked about the war, or your impending separation for the rest of the afternoon, that is until Poe leaned back in his seat at the cafe and sighed, heavily. "Something wrong?" you questioned, sipping your coffee.

Poe ran his tongue over his lips, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his own coffee mug. "When the Army marched into Paris over the summer, I thought it would be over. Maybe I just hoped it would be over."

There was an overwhelming feeling of sadness in his voice. You knew that he had suffered tremendous losses since the Allies had taken Paris back. For a man like Poe, with his big heart, you knew that each loss cut deep. "Darling, there was nothing wrong in hoping."

"I know, I just--I've been away from home for so long now."

"Are you afraid your dad will forget what you look like?"

"No--but my dad is getting up in age--he needs help on the ranch."

"I'm sure he's managing without you for now."

Poe frowned. "I'm worried about him, y/n."

You took a deep breath. "Why?"

He looked at you, sadly. "The anniversary of my mother's death is in a few weeks. My dad...he never really got over my mom...I just worry that he's lonely."

Reaching out you gently placed your hand over his. "Maybe this will be the last anniversary of your mother's passing that you'll miss. Maybe next year, you'll be home on the ranch."

"I hope so," Poe mumbled, running his thumb over your knuckles.

"When was the last time your wrote to your dad?" you asked, softly.

"Right before Normandy."

"Poe, that was months ago."

"There hasn't been time."

"You've found the time to write to me."

Poe looked at you, guilty. "You're easier to write too than my dad. You know what it's like to be in the thick of this war--I don't want to worry my dad too much."

Gently you shook your head. "Poe, your dad is a war veteran himself--I'm sure he knows exactly what is going on. Not writing to him is going to make him worry even more about you if you ask me."

He looked wounded. "You really know how to make a guy feel better, ya know that?"

Smiling, you looked him straight in the eye. "I'm just being honest with you."

"I know--and you're right--I need to get in touch with him."

"Promise you'll write to him before you leave Paris?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Good. I'll even make sure it gets in the mail for you."

Kissing your hand, he thanked you. Poe briefly wondered how he had survived without you--and if he had never been shot down, he may never have met you. He might have already passed his mother's ring onto you--under the guise of safe keeping--but he couldn't wait for the war to be over so he could properly ask you to marry him. "Shall we get out of here, darling?"

You smiled coyly at him, knowing exactly what was on his mind. "And go where, Captain?"

Poe sighed, lightly. "Oh, maybe a walk along the river....back to your room..."

"Let's go then," you said, standing up.

"Let's go," he echoed, tossing some money on the table and following you wherever you were going to lead him.

-----

Forty-eight hours went by way too fast for either of your likening, and after a tear filled good-bye, Poe found himself back with the Army. He felt more exhausted then ever with the cold weather moving in. He did hold true to his promise and wrote a letter to his dad, he even hand delivered a letter from Jess to the sergeant from North Dakota. Poe could never remember his name but he seemed excited to receive the letter.

Iolo grinned at him. "Look at you, playing cupid."

Poe rolled his eyes and pulled his coat closer to his body. "I didn't miss your shit for the last two days, Arana."

"Sure. That's fair. You were with your lady."

"What did you do?"

"Me? Found a nice village, got drunk, kissed a few French girls."

"A few?"

"Hey, I'm not attached so I'm not picky."

Laughing, Poe turned towards the tent he was sharing with his wingman and best friend. After Snap's death, the pair had become closer, looking out for each other as best they could--being there for each other after each and every loss. Poe felt grateful that he had a friend like Iolo--he didn't know what he'd do if he was facing the horrors of war each day alone.

Iolo was going on about something or another as they walked; Poe was so engrossed in what his friend was saying that he felt the gunshot before he heard it. The bullet tore through his upper left arm, burning, and Arana shouted, "Captain!"

Poe clutched at the fresh wound, blood seeping through his fingers and Iolo pulled him to safety as the ground troops sprinted into action trying to find where the shooter was hiding. "Fuck!" Poe cursed when he finally saw the blood on his hands, the pain coursing through his body.

"Easy, Poe," Iolo said, waving down a medic. "Looks like a flesh wound--you should live."

"Great, just great. It still fucking hurts!" Poe snapped at him. His face went white. "Don't tell her, Arana, please don't tell, y/n."

"You want me to lie to your girlfriend?"

"Yes! She doesn't need to know if I'm gonna live!"

"She's gonna know when she sees the scar!"

"And I'll tell her the story then!"

Iolo rolled his eyes as the medic joined him. "Ya might want to check his skull after you finish with that arm--he's talking batshit crazy."

Poe wanted to punch him but his arm hurt too damn much. He just didn't want you to worry about something as unnecessary as a flesh wound. "Can you hit him for me?" he begged the medic tending to his arm.

The medic looked anxiously between the two pilots. He was fresh on the field so clearly, he didn't understand their antics. "Sir... I'm just here to treat your arm. You'll...you'll...have to settle your differences with the Lieutenant on your own terms."

"In other words--he'd rather not get involved," Iolo chuckled. "It's cute he thinks we have some kind of beef with one another."

"Don't worry, once my arm is patched, I'm gonna punch you," Poe countered, curtly, to which Iolo responded with laughter. "I'm serious Arana!"

"Sure, sure, you're gonna punch me with your non-dominant arm."

"Fuck! Come on, man, just do it for me!"

The medic finished up dressing Poe's wound and quickly moved on to help the next guy. Iolo reached out and pat his friend on the shoulder. "Fuck Poe, don't scare me like that again," the other pilot whispered, seriously. "We've been through hell but I'm not sure I'm ready to lose another man I consider a brother."

Poe sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew that if the bullet was in centimeters in a certain direction he'd be dead. "I know," he responded, all the venom from earlier gone from his voice. "But I'm serious, please don't tell her. She worries enough as it is."

"Don't worry," Iolo said, firmly, "your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks buddy," Poe whispered, opening his eyes. "I owe you one."

"She's gonna find out, ya know."

"Yeah... yeah I know. I'll deal with it then."

Iolo frowned at him and helped him to his feet. Quietly, the two friends walked back to their tent and didn't speak about the gunshot wound in Poe's arm again.

------

You did find out--from North Dakota boy when he came to visit Jess.

He'd casually talked about as if you and Jess knew it had happened. It wasn't until he saw your eyes go wide and Jess' mouth fall open in shock that he was aware he'd let the secret out. Poe was probably going to beat his ass when he got back to camp for this...

...you excused yourself and found a small closet in the hospital to shut yourself away in and have a good cry.

After the day you'd had, nursing freed German prisoners back to health, holding their hands while the fate of their loved ones was either dealt to them or still kept a mystery, and crying at their bedside as they took their last breath. In between all that you were still expected to perform your duty as a lieutenant and care for the wounded soldiers.

It was clear why Poe hadn't told you he'd been shot--he knew the fragile state you were living in, but was this better? Finding out this way, from Jess' new boyfriend?

"Lieutenant?" Jess called on the other side of the door. "Are you okay?"

No! "I'm....fine...I just need a moment," you replied, wiping your eyes on the back of your hand. "I'll...be out soon."

You heard footsteps fading away and knew she had left you alone. If you could, you would have stayed in that closet all day--but the airhorn went off, signaling incoming wounded. Dusting yourself off, you got to your feet, and went to work. There was still a war going on after all.

[washymylifeaway]

Haikyuu SakuAtsu fanfic recs: series edition ;)

ALRIGHT LOVES, BUCKLE UP! IM FORCING MYSELF TO FIND MOTIVATION LOL

As I was making that cursed SakuAtsu fanfic rec post (it really is cursed, but it’ll get done eventually cause I do love the SakuAtsu too much, when tho? only god know LOL), I decided that if I’m gonna finish it, imma have to break it up. SO that’s why this is our lovely series edition post LOL. Originally, it WAS writers, tags, series, then single fics BUT I decided to scrap tags and even then I was like it’s too long..... And so, this post materialized LOL (mayhaps writers next? who knows anymore cause I certainly don’t LOL). These are ONLY some of the series that I absolutely adore, and I say some because 1) the tag is literally like 4k fics long and I was on like page 20 something and I have SO many tabs open rn for SakuAtsu, so chances are I missed one or five LOL :’((((( and 2) my ao3 account hasn’t been made yet (should’ve done this a looooooong time ago) and so I don’t have them all saved anywhere :( (these just sound like excuses LMFAO) So these are just the ones I saw and was like OOP I LOVE and then added LOL (and so they’re in no particular order hehe). I also didn’t *** any of them cause they’re all so freakin good and even if you randomly chose one, you will not be disappointed.

As per usual, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for series and each individual fic before reading and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

I would also be more careful cause there are a lot more TW in these fics than other ships!

Terminal Curiosity by favspacetwink, moonlumie (E) // CHECK WARINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES!!! this is one of the BEST series I’ve read for this ship and even though I tend not to read WIP, IT’S WORTH IT! Please read ALL the tags before going into any of the fics in this series because there’s some real spicy stuff that may not be your cup of tea!

your highs and lows by astroeulogy (T,M,E) // this fic made me go on a roller coaster of feels from start to (tentative) finish :))) It’s great and I love it AHHHHH The progression in their relationship is just so ajfkjsf, and I just adore how Atsumu just broke(?) during that first fic and the number of double takes he did, v relatable LOL.

Different Kinds of Dysfunctional by DeathBelle (T,E) // I LOVE the entrance to this fic and how it flowed so well. I think Atsumu is characterized really well throughout this series (I could totally see Atsumu bringing the same thing up over and over again LOL), and his development was done beautifully (You just want to make me say it.,,, Kinda, yeah.). I really freakin love this series so please go ahead and read it don’t be shy hehehe.

we call everything on the ice, "love" by awkwardedgeworth (T) // I LOVE this fic omg,,, it’s in series, but it’s only two fics LOL... Anyway, Notte Stellata is one of my favorite SakuAtsu fics and I have reread it way TOO many times and the fanpage fic IS SO AMAZING (AND FUNNY ASF PLS). I really love ice skating AU’s too so this really made this ‘series’ all the more better <333333

know you better & related stories by theglitterati (T,M,E) // this is definitely one of the best relationship development series I’ve read, I love it so much! It really touches all the bases, and the progression is just SO good. It really is the fic version of the get along shirt, extended edition LOL.

flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu one-shots) by wordstruck (T,M,E) // this series is such an easy pick up because it’s a bunch of one-shots (esp. if you’re not into smut cause there is some), BUT all of them are def worth a read. Personally, the third one, the sakusa kiyoomi listography, is my favorite (cause imma sucker for Sakusa), but that’s just personal preference hehe :)

Atsumu + Sakusa + The National = ? by isaksara (syailendra) (T,M) // this is another stand alone fic series but with AUs :D I don’t even know like most (ie. all) of the references (LMFAO), but I still read all of them LOL. Again, a personal favorite (without any references LOL) is the second one, famous angels (never come through england), it’s really funny and good and I just love it okay?

Better For Us Both by abrandnewheart (M) // (this was CP from my angst fic rec post LOL tho it is slightly edited cause istg my writing style changes every post LOL) THE MUG FIC. There is a sequel and when I saw it, it took me another week to read it cause I was like,,, am I ready to have my heart break again? No LOL. But the sequel is actually not as angst (but there’s still angst), so if you want to be like semi-broken or whatever, just read the sequel LOL (also it’s Sakusa POV HEHE). It’s so sad and it made me physically hurt every time someone even mentioned mugs afterwards (LOL why am I so dramatic but it’s the truth :///). Go ahead and hurt with me. You should read it even if you don’t like angst because you know what they say, no pain no gain :’)

parallax error: angle of inclination by min_mintobe (T) // okay so technically this ‘isn’t a series’, but it is two fic that are related, and what is that if not A SERIES :DDDDD Anyway, I really love this fic enough that I would find loopholes in my own dang post to recommend it LOL. I really love the service ace bet between Sakusa and Atsumu (I do think it is a superior headcannon (it’s hc right?)) but I also love what’s left unsaid by both in each other’s POVs hehe. If you want to go straight to Sakusa’s POV (cause their different POVs of the same fic), here it is parallax error: line of sight. You can read either first, but I recommend you read both eventually :)

to make any other mistake by honeymilktea (rosevtea) (T) // I, myself, am a very big fan of college Haikyuu (tho idk if it seems like that LOL), and this fic is very much up my alley hehe. I really like the idea that they are both TA’s and that Atsumu would totally bribe Sakusa into fake dating him as well as Sakusa wearing his brightest outfits to spite Atsumu.

How Do You Know? by awkwardedgeworth (T) // these fics are both so funny omg. The google search histories, the trial and error, and just everything in these two fics gives me so much dopamine LOL. There’s one POV for both end of the ship, though their tragedies are slightly different.

the human disaster chronicles by firtree (G,T) // is this another Atsumu gay panic fic? Yes, yes it is and I have absolutely no shame in recommending it hehe. I realllllllly like this fic and Atsumu having a break down cause Sakusa didn’t follow his routine? It is the move. Anyway, pls read this series cause like the title suggests, it really is a disaster (but at least there’s love right? LOL).

I Love You (Though it's Inadvisable) by Anubis_2701 (T) // okay the series itself is a wip (as in only one fic for now LOL), but the fic is so good, I couldn’t leave it off :))))) First, I do love a good soulmate AU and although I’m not a big fan on the body switching AUs, THIS one was SO good!!! It gets really cheesy and fluff at the end, but the beginning of this fic was just so immaculate, that we’re gonna ignore how much the ending made me want to stick my head into a hole (cause it was so FLUFF OMG).

The Germaphobe and the Asshole by metaandpotatoes (T,E) // so this series is also actually a WIP, but it’s okay I only read the first and the last one anyway cause they’re basically stand alone’s LOL. This series focuses a lot on Sakusa’s mysophobia, so if you’re not a fan of the hc, you should prolly pass hehe. TBH, my favorite is the third one, Avoidance Behavior, but that’s mainly cause I really like SunaOsa and I love the brother bond in it!

you are the cause of my euphoria by SugarHighs (T) // ajsfljksadhjkdfk is my first thoughts while reading this series cause ATSUMU WOULD. He would start posting thirst trap pics (which really reminded me of Wonho) in order to prove he was the most good looking member of MSBY. Tho, we do love the clowning of one Sakusa Kiyoomi, as done in the third fic (PLEASE NUMBER 17 AND Cheezel). Even if you can’t get yourself to read the other fics, read the third one, 5 Ways To Tell If The Person You're Dating Is The One, for the free serotonin boost plsplspls.

'basis' - noun. the underlying foundation for an idea or process. by auvelli (T) // like I said, college AU is a great AU, love it. This one, I do love indeed. We do stan having microwaves and mini fridges hehe. I support the ramen endeavors but oatmeal is gross, I said what I said. Anyway, I love the tags in the second fic, so even if you don’t end up reading it, read the tags,,,, they’re funny okay?

and i press you to the pages of my heart by volchitsae (T) // I LOVE THIS ONE, teehee again the college AU makes another appearance LOL. I REALLY love this writer, and this one is so funny but cute at the same time. It’s another two POV fic, but you’ll want to read this one in order hehe. Again, the ending is so FLUFF, that my head wanted to take a visit to the underground BUT ITS OKAY.

affection and acid reflux by volchitsae (T) // so the first fic is ~angst~ but IT GETS BETTER OKAY, happy endings. HAPPY ENDINGS. Anyway, there’s some really cute Sakusa in this one (esp. when he talks to the boy at the village LOVE HIM) and a healthy amount of angst as well. I really like this fic and guess what it is? Say it with me, COLLEGE AU LOL.

how big the hourglass, how deep the sand by volchitsae (E) // did I just recommend the same writer three times in a row? Yup and I think that says something LOL (tbh I like some of their stand alone fics more tho LMFAO but that doesn’t mean these series are bad nononono not at ALL (this sounded sarcastic but that was not the intention LOL)). This one is ~magical~ (v literally) and has some kinky stuff (holy water ftw) in it, so tread carefully :) I would make sure to read the tags before each one because it gets kinda steamy LOL.

^^ if I had to choose between these three, I liked and i press you to the pages of my heart the most just cause the plot was my type LOL. But they’re all good hehe.

a study on you(th) and reverie by sieges (G,T) // this series is such a sad series :( The first two are the only SakuAtsu but the third one is an angst Osamu one so there’s that LOL (and ofc the fourth one is KuniYama (is that their ship name idk)) But the first one is a moving on fic (which I liked) and the second is like basically a fake break up (which I liked more LOL) and both have some nice shares of angst and fluff so choose your battles wisely (or just read both LOL).

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) // CHECK WARINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES!!! ah yes, the mafia fic LOL. I REALLY LOVE THIS FIC. I felt so bad for Atsumu the entire fic and yes it is, ATSUMU BEST BOY time. Did I really just recommend this series AGAIN for the THIRD TIME in THREE SEPARATE POSTS? Apparently LMFAO I didn’t even know TBH LOL. I just really like this one,,,,,, okay? But pls Atsumu just here for the ride man cause he BEST BOY. Anyway, if you want to see my other comments of this fic that I forgot I did links here :D (links and here are two separate links to two separate posts LOL).

OKAY so that’s most of the series that I saw and was like gotta put this here LOL. And do you see how long this is (I know I’m missing so many series I like istg when I find them later imma cry or just make another post LOL).... Can you imagine how long my actual fic fic one is LOL (i’m not kidding tho it’s so long I might just do fics with their actual summaries instead of adding my invalid, piss poor reviews :/). Ugh the more I think about it, the more I lose motivation to finish LMFAO, so imma go be no thoughts head empty, but I hope you enjoyed reading these series! I love SakuAtsu SO much, so there’s lots more to come (is that good or bad idek). I know I was kinda lazy on the warnings (my bad), so I hope you all were attentive and made sure to check before reading! Also if there are any errors, send me a message/ask! PLS, they’re v embarrassing LOL. (Also tell me if I forget to cap my I’s bc I do that sometimes and I can’t tell cause of the font LMFAO.) The way my posts get slightly more chaotic every time I post LOL.

[stonesparrow]

Bird’s Writing Ideas

Summaries of some of the dcst AUs and other fanfic concepts I’m “working on,” or at least just have a google doc going for. Feel free to send me an ask if you want to hear more about any of them :P

No Stone Wars AU

Terrible name, yes, so sometimes I call this the “Delayed Lions AU.” I am not good at titling things. It’s an AU where Yuzuriha was successfully brought back to camp and revived instead of Tsukasa, and then the lions show up. Working together though, our heroes do manage to scare the lions away for the time being, and Tsukasa doesn’t end up getting revived until way later. Essentially it’s an excuse for me to write a civilization-building story where Senku carries out his plans as he intended before the whole Stone Wars shenanigans happened. Senku does still find Ishigami Village (he has to go to Hakone eventually to collect sulfur) but he’s not nearly as concerned about, ya know, getting murdered. Could be really boring for some people, but like I’ve said I LOVE the civilization building parts of DCST and this is my jam. I did way too much math for this one.

Fem! Senku AU

Exactly what it says on the tin. Tentatively titled “Ishigami Senku: Girl Genius.” I’ve left it ambiguous so far whether Senku is cis or trans, but either way this one is great for exploring how Senku’s decisions and character (and those around her) might be affected by Senku being a girl. For instance, this Senku is more used to being underestimated and patronized than canon Senku and has a slight compulsion to wanting to prove herself, which is in conflict with her desire to surge ahead without caring about what others think of her. Her hair also obeys gravity a little more and she wears it in a ponytail, and she’s a little closer to Yuzuriha than in canon (though Taiju is still her oldest and best friend). I’ve had a few problems with hashing out the plot for this one since I don’t want it to perfectly match canon but I also want it to keep some key story nodes, and the butterfly effect makes it tend to veer wildly off into various directions.

Mermaids AU(s)

I have like, three of these because I couldn’t decide how to go about it and just wanted to write something with mermaids. I like fantasy.

 Senku and Taiju are young mermen living in an underwater kingdom, and Senku’s fascinated with the above world, spending his days studying humans and their inventions and trying to come up with something that could allow him to go on land. But then one day something turns the whole Sea Kingdom into stone statues, and it’s up to Senku to venture out into the human world in search of a cure. Lower on my interest scale because most of the story wouldn’t take place among the mermaids.

Inspired by ao3 user Luki’s story Flock where soon after revival petrified humans sprout wings. In this case though, Senku realizes that he’s somehow becoming partially aquatic, only instead of being full on mermanified he ends up more like...mermaids in the Sims 3? Where he has to stay constantly hydrated to survive and his legs turn into a tail when submerged in water. I like this one a lot, actually.

H2O: Just Add Water AU. There was this Australian tv show I used to watch at my friend’s house when we were like...seven, about these three girls who after a strange encounter realized that ten seconds after coming in contact with water, they would turn into mermaids. I’ve tweaked that concept a lot but basically this AU is Senku, Taiju, and Yuzuriha taking the place of the three main characters, and also they’re in Japan instead of Australia, for obvious reasons. 

A Single Act of Kindness

AU where 12 year old Tsukasa is rescued from the old man on the beach by another, friendlier old man, one with grey hair with dark tips and red eyes. That’s it, that’s the whole concept. Probably gonna be a oneshot.

Future/Next Gen

Not an AU, but basically a bunch of (very theoretical and self indulgent) ideas I have about the Kingdom of Science post defeating Why-man. All of them stem from a concept I had where Senku finds a protege in Taiju and Yuzuriha’s third oldest child, a girl named Yurika (which is a legitimate girls’ name but Senku was the one who named her and meant it to sound like Eureka! on purpose, as if saying he wished for her to have a life full of discovery. He’ll deny thinking that much about it though). Most of the stories I have in this concept are about Yurika’s teen years, with Senku in his forties.

Suika in Wonderland

Just a funny idea I had where Suika falls asleep to Ukyo telling her an “old British children’s story,” one summer afternoon and finds herself in a strange world where a lot of the bizarre individuals she meets look oddly like some of her friends.

ATLA AU

Recently I did a little speculative thing for this in this post, and I liked it enough to write it down into a more fully fleshed out concept. Story 1 is going to be about Ryusui growing up in the Northern Water Tribe and him meeting the Gaang when they arrive at the end of Book 1, while Story 2 is going to be about Senku and his friends uncovering the Dai Li conspiracy in Ba Sing Se and teaming up with the Gang when they arrive in Book 2. Story 3...well I’d like to do something regarding the Fire Nation characters, so maybe something to do with Amaryllis.

[araluenrangerdanger]

Okay thanks for reading-but can you make a crawlt fanfic with Halt thinking that Crowley is dying, so he slowly sings "far too young to die" by Panic! At The Disco, and then makes out with him, because why the hell not?

I am so, so late with this, but: tw: head injury, blood, injury, violence

I hope you enjoy 

Halt and Crowley had been waiting for this moment the last six hours. They had info that the bandit group took this road every second week, and today was the day.

A few weeks ago, a message came to Castle Araluen. It was from the north side of the Araluen fief, a fief that, by all standards, was now Crowley’s.

It was a few weeks after Pritchard’s death. The two young Rangers were grieving, but criminals never took breaks. Crowley was still heavily burdened by the weight of all paperwork that he had to sort (it seemed as if Stilson intentionally left the office in the biggest mess he could before he was kicked out of the Corps for good) and all the other responsibilities that came with reinstating the Ranger Corps, finding new apprentices, trying to keep everything running and the crime in fiefs that didn’t have their own Rangers in check, and of course, the past weeks had been silent torture.

When Halt had returned from Castle Gorlan with the news of Pritchard’s death, he already had several days to take it all in, and composed himself as much as he could before coming to Araluen. Crowley, however, didn’t have that luxury, which resulted in Halt delivering the news, and both of them broke down, remembering their mentor. It was the only time Crowley saw Halt cry.

The two of them dove into work, both silent and effective, without Crowley whistling or cracking his usual jokes. It was inappropriate. Death had always been a part of a Ranger’s job, but neither of them considered just how real it could be. At least Crowley and Halt managed to clear out some paperwork, and a month after Pritchard’s death, Farrel joined them in their work, seeing as he broke his leg when pursuing Morgarath.

Together, they managed to deal with most of the paperwork, but piles of it were still waiting for them.

However, the message came one hot summer afternoon. Crowley and Halt had been filling out forms and trying to figure out what to do with Redmont fief (as the Ranger’s spot was currently vacant since Farrel was on sick leave), the window was opened, but neither that nor the cool castle walls helped them escape the heat. Crowley got rid of his shirt altogether while Halt and Farrel only rolled up their sleeves.

“I don’t mean to order you around, Crowley,” Farrel remarked. “But maybe you should put the shirt back on. Maybe not because someone could come in, but otherwise Halt might overheat.” He told everything with a smile, watching as Crowley saw Halt’s red face as the Hibernian Ranger hid behind a pile of paperwork, and sheepishly put his shirt back on, leaving it loosely unbuttoned.

That was the ice breaking in their relationship, and the grieving atmosphere lifted. Halt and Crowley knew they were attracted to each other, but never expressed anything more than friendship gestures. If something happened to either of them, they didn’t want to experience heartbreak again in such a short period of time.

The message they got was clear. There was a group of bandits in the northern part of the Araluen fief, and therefore, they needed to be stopped. Crowley also saw this as an opportunity for Halt to show some more skills Pritchard taught him - who was he kidding, of course, he used the opportunity to spend more time with him, sharing a tent once again, just like in the good old times when they were getting the rebellious Rangers together.

The two young Rangers left the next day at dawn, travelling to the villages and gathering information about stolen goods, people who had become their targets, and the travelling routes the bandits took.

So here they were, both hidden in the bushes along a small forest clearing. Halt sat with his cowl over his head, unmoving, an arrow nocked in his bow, waiting for the bandits to come. Crowley sat a few meters away, mimicking Halt’s movements, also prepared.

Nothing happened for hours until they could hear hoofbeats. The Rangers stilled, knowing that any movement could cost them the element of surprise they had on their side. However, they planned on offering the bandits one chance to give up without a fight. They just needed to surprise them.

As soon as the group arrived at the clearing, riding mules and old horses, Crowley stepped out from the bush he was hiding in, and called in a sonorous voice: “King’s Ranger! Stop and surrender!”

The bandits stopped their horses, drawing their weapons and, in some cases, also stolen swords.

Their leader was a big, burly man whose teeth were missing in several places, and he now turned to his companions.

“Rangers aren’t what they used to be! This one must be one of those pompous idiots, can’t even harm a fly!” he laughed, mocking the Ranger Corps. Crowley gritted his teeth. Those vain insults wouldn’t make him angry, they wouldn’t. He knew that the Corps wasn’t what it used to be, and he and the others were doing everything they could to make it better again.

“I am giving you a warning, surrender, or see how fast I can be,” Crowley called again, losing patience with these guys. Fortunately, he knew that Halt and he could take them all on, and they still had the element of surprise, as the bandits didn’t know Halt was ever there.

The bandits cried with laughter.

“What are you gonna do, go to mommy to cry?” their leader asked before pointing his sword at Crowley. “Let’s get this over with. Kill him!”

In that moment, several bandits nudged their steeds and started moving. At the same time, Crowley let go of the arrow in his bowstring, hitting the leader’s calf, and another arrow came flying through the side, taking down another one of the men.

The action started, Halt came out of his hiding spot and fired an arrow after arrow. Crowley stepped into the shadows of a tree, knowing that it would be impossible for riders to turn their horses so quickly. Furthermore, they couldn’t go after him; they had to dismount first.

While Halt was dealing with three of the bandits, successfully shooting one into his thigh and killing the other, having trouble only with the third one, Crowley had to fight off six of them. He shot three of them before stumbling backwards as one of them tried to decapitate him with a sword. The Ranger regained his balance, his bow, however, got stuck in the tree’s branches.

“Crap!” he cursed, not having the time to try and free his bow. It was stuck for the rest of the fight, and Crowley desperately reached for his knives.

The Ranger turned around just in time to see a man trying to hit him with a hammer, but Crowley was quicker. He grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it, making him drop the hammer. With a well-aimed kick to the stomach, Crowley sent him to the ground. Then, he quickly looked at the distance the other two attackers had.

One was already charging at him and the Ranger knew he had to act quickly. In one smooth motion, he let go of his throwing knife, not waiting to watch as it sunk into the man’s chest.

The last man came in too quickly though. Crowley didn’t have time to retrieve his throwing knife or apply the double-knife defense. He was stuck, and when the bandit’s sword collided with his Saxe knife and sent it flying, he regretted the choices he made.

Crowley’s eyes widened as he realized that he had nothing to defend himself with, and he immediately ducked as the man swung the sword where his head had been just a few seconds ago. The man seemed surprised, allowing the Ranger to send him to a dream world with a good punch.

Crowley was about to go retrieve his knives when he heard Halt’s cry of “Look out!”. The next moment, an arrow flew past him. Halt had seen the man who had a hammer sneaking up on Crowley and swinging the hammer. In the next second, the man threw the hammer and let out a squeak as Halt’s arrow struck him in the chest, killing him on the spot. However, the hammer was flying and Crowley wasn’t fast enough. With a loud thud, the hammer collided with his head, sending him unconscious to the ground.

Halt gasped.

“Crowley!” he called, running to his friend. The red-haired Ranger laid on the grass, a trail of blood colouring his red hair an even darker shade of red, his eyes closed. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Crowley!” Halt repeated forcefully, trying to find a pulse on his neck. He panicked when he couldn’t find it, his eyes widening with a silent plea.

“No, no, no no,” he repeated frantically, trying again, but Crowley was either dead or his pulse was so weak that he couldn’t find it.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Crowley! I can’t go through this again!” he yelled. He couldn’t lose them both. He couldn’t lose Pritchard and Crowley in the span of just a few months.

Hearing no response, Halt sunk to his knees. His lips moved on their own, and he started singing, his voice raspy and filled with sadness:

“While the crown lies heavy on either side,

give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die.”

Halt closed his eyes, letting the tears fall. All the bandits were forgotten, now there was only Crowley and him.

Suddenly, a second, faint voice, said: “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me.”

Halt’s eyes snapped open. Sure enough, there he was, blood still dripping down his temple, but his hazel eyes were looking up at him, and he was grinning.

The Hibernian Ranger gasped, but then grabbed him by his shirt and leaned in to kiss him.

It lasted just several seconds, but both men enjoyed the soft lips of the other, and broke the kiss, both red in the face.

“And don’t ever do that to me again!” Halt nudged him in the arm to be clear. “Do you know how worried I was?”

Crowley smiled at him weakly.

“I won’t Halt, but if I got a kiss like this every time you were worried about me…”

Halt wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his expression dark.

“Don’t you dare,” he started before he was pulled down by Crowley for another kiss. The usually grumpy Ranger just melted into it and kissed Crowley back, happy that he was alright and would heal.

The two broke the kiss, smiling at each other before Crowley groaned in pain.

“That was great, Halt, but please help me stop the bleeding, otherwise I might really die.”

He watched, amused, as Halt panicked once more.  

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Wyvernlair

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Three

A JSE Fanfic

Ta-da! Another chapter! :D This is the one I was talking about, with a lot of worldbuilding and new characters. It’s also one of my longer stories, and I had to cut out a scene near the end, but don’t worry, you’ll see that next time. Now that Chase is officially part of the Masked Phantoms, it’s time for him to get to know the layout of Wyvernlair, meet new people, and learn new things. So get ready for a whole lot of all that. Hope you guys enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was clear that Jackie was eager to have someone new to show around Wyvernlair. He led the way, pointing out important features of the camp. Most of the center area was taken up by tents for people to stay in. In addition, there was an area dedicated to cooking, with campfires and stacks of pots and dishes, a wide, clear area for people to practice sword fighting and other combat, and a large space for storage.

All this was fairly normal for any camp. Or at least, that’s what Chase figured, considering he’d never been in a camp of any kind. But he was pretty sure that the massive skeleton made Wyvernlair much different than any other camp. Every bit had been planned around the bones embedded in the ground. The tents were encircled by the dragon. The cooking fires were dotted around the leg bones. The combat field was spread out along the wings that extended out from the rest of the body. And the storage was inside the oversized ribcage, canvas stretched over the gaps to keep out the weather.

Inside the ribs was the most incredible place Chase had ever been. He kept his head craned upward, following the curve of the ivory bones, each one big enough that it would take three full grown men to encircle it. The storage inside the ribcage was much less impressive in comparison, though he did have to admit he’d never seen this amount of weapons, armor, parchment, and foodstuffs in one place. Not to mention all the miscellaneous items as well, like lanterns and chests for storage.

“Oh, you need a jacket!” Jackie suddenly said, bringing Chase back to the conversation. “You can take one of the communal ones, over here.” He grabbed Chase’s hand and pulled him to the side of the ribs, where the chests were full of various clothing, each labeled with types and sizes. “Unless you’re a cloak person?”

“Uh, no, I...jackets are good,” Chase said dazedly.

“Great! What are you, a five?” Jackie waited for Chase to nod, then headed over to the appropriate chest. “We don’t have that many fives left...a lot of people have measurements around there.” He flipped open the chest lid. “Um...yeah, there’s just one. Hope you like yellow.” After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out a dull flaxen jacket and tossed it in Chase’s direction.

Chase fumbled for a bit before catching it. It was a fairly normal jacket, and he quickly pulled it on. Autumn in the mountains was not a time to walk around without one. He’d been chilly all through their walk.

“Alright, all that’s left is the skull,” Jackie said. “I don’t know how often you’ll be in there, but it’s good to—”

“I’m sorry, I’m still caught up on the fact that I’m inside a dragon skeleton,” Chase interrupted.

Henrik, who’d been following the tour quietly and letting Jackie do all the talking, suddenly burst into laughter. “I told you. It is shocking, isn’t it?”

“Well...yes!” Chase looked back up at the curve of the ribs above him, slowly shaking his head. “I heard dragons were large, but I didn’t really...picture it, before this.”

“Technically, this is not the skeleton of a full-blooded great dragon,” Henrik said.

“What?”

“The dragon that most people think of, with four legs and two or more wings? That is a great dragon,” Henrik explained. “I’m sure you noticed this one only has two legs; it was likely a wyvern/great dragon crossbreed.”

“Hence the name ‘Wyvernlair,’” Jackie added.

“What’s the difference?” Chase asked.

“Wyverns only had two legs and larger wings. They walked a bit like birds do,” Henrik continued. “And they were usually much smaller. There are some accounts of humans riding them. So this was either an abnormally large wyvern, or it was a crossbreed with the great dragons. Which, yes, could grow as big as this, but that was not so common.”

“Elders,” Chase muttered. The fact that there were once creatures as large as this roaming the land, big enough to encircle half a town...it made him glad they weren’t around anymore.

“It was really lucky that we found this place,” Jackie said. “Not because of the skeleton, but because of its location. There are no trees growing near the bones, so we have room to spread out, and we have our backs to a rock wall, which makes it more defensible.” He paused. “Anyway, the last part on our tour is the skull, and then we can set you up with a tent. Oh, actually, the spare tents are kept here. Let’s grab that now.”

“I get my own?” Chase said, surprised.

“Of course, we have plenty to spare,” Jackie said casually. “We brought a whole bunch up, but recruitment has been slow.”

“Nonexistent,” Henrik muttered. He reached into one of his belt pouches and took out a small flask, taking a quick drink.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted. “But let’s go, we’re almost done!”

The skull was just as massive as the rest of the skeleton, with wicked sharp teeth as tall as Chase. He stared at them as Jackie and Henrik led him around to the back, where there was a slight gap where the skull met the spine. They passed through that gap and ended up inside. Much like the ribs, the skull had been converted into a room, with canvas blocking the eye sockets and nasal cavity to make a rough roof. This wasn’t as large as the storage, but it was still at least three times as large as Chase’s cottage. There were more chests in here, and a few rickety desks where people—masks always nearby—sat, reading and writing on parchment. They all glanced up as the three men entered the room, then looked away.

In the middle of the skull was a large circular table, made of solid, dark wood and surrounded by chairs. Various maps were spread out on the surface of the table, held down with weights.

Chase glanced at the largest map, and immediately recognized it as a map of the kingdom of Glasúil. A detailed one, too, covering almost all of the island. The Dragon’s Teeth mountains ran down the center, with the smaller Northaven range branching off to the east, along the northern shore. The Southern Moors were present, slowly merging into the sea. Rivers and forests he’d never heard of crossed the parchment, and each major town and city was represented by a labeled black dot. The only part of the map left blank was the area to the west of the Dragon’s Teeth, which simply had “Wyldwood” written across it.

“Oh hey, you like the maps?” Jackie asked, noticing Chase’s attention. “We use those for planning stuff. A lot of strategy and meetings happen here. This is also where we keep all our records and sort through all our messages with other Phantom locations. Since you’re part of the group now, you’ll eventually go on missions, and if that’s the case, you’ll have to write a report and deliver it here.”

“Missions?” Chase repeated. His head was starting to swim a bit with all the new information.

“Well, if you want to,” Jackie said awkwardly. “I mean, you could stay here and do medicine with Henrik, or be part of our administration—”

“Administration?” This time, Chase laughed a bit when he repeated the word.

“Organization is very important,” Schneep emphasized. “There are a lot of us, and we do a lot of things. If we have no organization then we do not know what we’re doing!”

“Yeah, and those things we do are...missions,” Jackie said.

“Alright, what kind of...missions?” Chase asked.

“Depends. We might need to investigate someplace, or something, or someone. We might need to go in and stop an act of injustice, or rescue people who’ve been hurt.” Jackie paused. “If...if we’d heard about the King’s plans for the mountain villages to burn, then we could have...shown up. In time.”

Chase felt his stomach twist at the mention of the burning villages. There was guilt in Jackie’s voice; he clearly felt awful that the Phantoms couldn’t do anything to prevent that. “Well.” Chase took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to make sure things like that don’t happen again.”

Jackie nodded. Henrik placed a hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to steady him. He drew himself to his full height and stiffened his posture. “Exactly. The King may think he can get away with any of this, just because of his position. But the people will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. As long as his actions cause death and damage, we will work to remove him.”

For a moment, Chase was in awe at the resolve Jackie showed. He wasn’t that physically intimidating, being almost a head shorter than Chase and a head and a half shorter than Henrik, but he had a commanding aura. Maybe the strength of his conviction was catching. “Exactly,” Chase said. “That’s—that’s what I want to do.” His simple statement sounded lame in comparison.

Jackie smiled. “And that’s why we’re so glad to have you.” He relaxed a bit, looking over at Henrik. “And if Schneep likes you, then I do, too.”

Chase couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I-I’m sorry? What did you call him?”

Henrik’s expression fell. He took his hand off Jackie’s shoulder and pushed him with his shoulder. “I told you, stop using that.”

“But it’s so fun to say,” Jackie said cheerfully. “Chase, did you know that Henrik’s surname is Schneeplestein?”

Chase fought to stifle his giggles. Now he remembered that particular fact from his first meeting with Henrik. “That’s—well, I’m sure that’s a usual surname in Alterde—”

“It is not,” Henrik said wearily. “It sounds just as ridiculous over there. Go ahead, laugh about it. Get it out of your mind now.”

“No no, I’m fine, I promise.” Chase coughed a bit, clearing his throat of laughter. “At least you have a surname.”

“Ah, it is common to have one where I am from,” Henrik waved away the comment. “I know here it is a nobility thing, but not in Alterde or its neighbors.”

“Really?” Chase said, interested.

“Really. And it is much easier than your family names,” Henrik said bluntly, turning to leave.

“Hey! Wait for us!” Jackie took Chase’s hand and the two of them followed Henrik out of the dragon’s skull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Chase? Are you awake?”

The first thing Chase heard when waking up was someone calling his voice. Instinctively, he rolled over and stretched his arm to the right. Only to be met with nothing but empty space. Oh. Right.

He opened his eyes to a canvas wall and ceiling. He’d gotten his tent yesterday, and Jackie had shown him how to set it up in a spot near the dragon spine. From there, the rest of the day had passed slowly. Awkwardly, too, as Chase didn’t feel up to approaching any of the masked people who were part of the Phantoms. It felt...strange. Like he was constantly intruding on something. So he just spent time in his tent, and when dinnertime rolled around, he showed up to get some stew from the cooking fires then went off to eat on his own. Eventually, the sun set, and he figured that was time to go to bed.

“Chase?” The voice called again.

“Henrik?” Chase asked, sitting up and wiggling out of the bedroll he’d been given.

“Oh, you are awake. Can I open the flap?”

“Go ahead.” It wasn’t like he was indecent or anything. He was actually still wearing his clothes from the day before. Maybe he should check out the storage, see if they had anything else he could use.

Henrik pushed open the flap of the tent and ducked inside, pushing his owl mask up onto his forehead. “Ah, good. I have something for you.” He held out a folded piece of parchment.

Puzzled, Chase took it. “What is this?” He asked as he unfolded it.

“Well, now that you are a Phantom, there are some things you need to be familiar with,” Henrik said. “Jackie put together a schedule for you for today.”

Chase silently looked at the words. He blinked. Then squinted. Then looked back up at Henrik. “Um...I’m sorry, but I...can’t read this.”

Henrik didn’t even have a response for that. “You...cannot read?”

“I can, but only a little,” Chase admitted. “I know the alphabet and numbers, but as for words, I can read what I’m familiar with. Food, animal names, archery gear. Things like that.” He trailed off into a mumble, somehow embarrassed. Reading had never been an issue before. Everyone in town knew enough to get by. But now, he wondered...was that not normal?

“That’s okay,” Henrik said, picking up on Chase’s tone. “Jackie was the same way. We had to teach him.” He chuckled a bit at the memory. “I will explain, then. After breakfast, you will meet with Nemet in the infirmary, she will give you a basic medicine check. To see what you know and fill you in on anything you need. Then you will head down to the tip of the tail, and meet a man there called Tripp. I understand you do not know that much about magic, so he will give you an overview. Then there will be lunch, and then you will head to the combat field to start training with Holly and Lukas.”

Chase started. “What was that last name?”

“Lukas,” Henrik repeated. “You will probably be working with him more, since you seem inclined with bows, and not closer combat.”

“Right.” Chase nodded. That name sounded familiar, like he’d heard it recently...

“Then come back for dinner, and I will check up on you,” Henrik continued. “And by then, hopefully you will know what you want to do most in the group. Medicine, organization, and such. And we will get you a temporary mask.”

“So, why masks?” Chase asked. “I like the idea, but...why? Who came up with it?”

“Oh, the mask concept was Jackie’s idea, but the animal part was added by—by someone else,” Henrik said. There was an odd pause there...was he going to say something else? A name, perhaps? “We wear masks so people will not recognize us. Many of us have friends and family who would be at risk if the King’s people knew we were working against him. Like, for me. You know I am a traveling doctor, yes? Well, when I met you last year, I was already working with the Phantoms. Can you imagine what would happen if someone recognized me as a rebel?”

Chase shivered. “Yea, I can.” If the King was willing to burn down the mountain villages for an unknown reason, what would he do to find one of the rebels? With that thought in mind, he slowly stood up. “So...I’ll get started, then. Meeting with all these strangers.”

“Do not be nervous, Chase,” Henrik said gently. “Everyone new we find has to go through something like this. And these are some of our best people.”

“Thanks,” Chase said. “That’s good to know.” Still, his stomach was slowly tying itself in knots as he headed towards the cooking fires, about to start the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a quick breakfast of toasted bread—light, but with those stomach knots, still hard to get through—Chase headed up the gentle slope towards the infirmary cave in the rock wall. Slipping through the flap in the canvas, he found it unchanged from the day before, when he’d been discharged. Nobody was inside, except for...

“Ibis?” Chase asked.

“Hello, Chase.” Ibis smiled at him. Her mask was off, revealing her features and round, dark eyes for the first time. “It’s good to see you again. And please, my name is Nemet.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m supposed to meet with you.” That explained why she was standing near the entrance, she was waiting for him.

“Yes, yes.” Nemet nodded. “Henrik has told me to give you a basics in medicine.” She turned and headed towards the back, indicating he should follow. “Come, come. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Nemet had set three chests on top of each other, making a sort of rough chest-height table. On top of the flat surface of the chest-table were a series of bottles and bags, each one neatly labeled. “Here. These are some of our common tonics and medicines we use here. Tell me what you recognize.”

Chase considered the layout before him. There were probably about thirty in total, if he had to guess. “This is for colds, right? And fevers? And this one, too. And these dried leaves, they’re for nausea. Oh, and this will put you to sleep if you put it in water or stew. This is a salve, also for fevers. And this is a balm for sores. And this will stop infection on cuts and scrapes. And...that’s what I know.”

“Impressive,” Nemet nodded.

“Really? That’s only a fraction of the total,” Chase said doubtfully.

“Most people who join up only know redleaf, bainruish, and seedbane.” Nemet indicated each medicine as she listed them. “Fevers, cuts, and...well, I’m sure you know what seedbane is for, even if you said nothing. You are married, after all.” She laughed as Chase slowly turned red. “Ah, my apologies. The point is, you are ahead of most others.”

“Do we really need all of these?” Chase asked, quickly moving on.

“Oh, yes. You know that when people gather together that sicknesses spread easily. Many of these will help to cure a specific disease, while others are a general tonic, like redleaf.” Nemet paused, then picked up about ten of the medicines and put them on the floor. “Henrik says you are not so much caught up on magic, so we will leave these ones out of our discussion for now.”

Chase started at that. The concept of mixing medicine with magic made him...uneasy. He may not know that much about magic, but he knew it could be dangerous. “I was wondering, Nemet, what did you do before you joined the Phantoms? I know Henrik’s a traveling doctor, are you the same?”

“Not exactly.” Nemet shrugged. “I was a student of medicine back home.”

“And where was that?”

“A land called Kha’Nyphthis.” Nemet grinned a bit at Chase’s confused expression. “You would not have heard of it. It is to the south, on another continent, but not the same continent as Henrik’s Alterde. We have great schools and libraries there, the best in the world. I was learning to become a doctor, and had almost finished my schooling, but one of the final requirements was to learn the medicine of another land. I chose here, Glasúil, because you are well-known for your medicine. But then I arrived, and saw the state of things, and...ah, well.” Her expression fell for a moment.

“I’m...sorry,” Chase said awkwardly. “Do you...ever think about going back?”

Nemet nodded briefly. “Of course. I have family, friends. But I cannot just abandon things. It’s not in my nature to leave things unsettled.” She took a deep breath, and moved on. “But as for your basics in medicine, let me start by getting you familiar with the ones you didn’t know.”

It was a while later before Chase left the infirmary, his head feeling stuffed with all the new information Nemet had drilled into him. Already, some of it was starting to slip away. And he immediately knew that he could never be a doctor. If these were the basics, he couldn’t even begin to think about what would be required to complete the training to become one.

But he didn’t have time to let all that new knowledge sink in. Judging by the sun’s position, it was getting close to noon, and to lunch. He still had to meet up with someone else before it was time to eat. So he hurried onward, running along the curve of the dragon’s bones, following them as they got smaller and smaller, until they eventually merged into the packed ground. Chase slowed to a stop and looked around, confused. This was the end of the tail, wasn’t it? So...where was—

“Hey you’re the new one, right?”

Chase yelped and spun around. A man was sitting between the spine bones of the dragon, almost unnoticeable in the shadow between them. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said slowly. “Are you, uh...Tripp?”

The man nodded, hopped to his feet, and walked over to Chase. Standing up, he was short, even shorter than Jackie. He wore a dark brown cloak that reached his knees, and of course, a mask. This one was shaped like a ram’s head, complete with curved horns, and the black symbol on the forehead was actually four different symbols arranged in a diamond formation. After a moment of looking at them, Chase realized they were the suits often used on playing cards. How...odd. The man reached up and took off the mask, ruffling his golden brown hair and revealing dark eyes. “Tripp, son of Seamus,” he said shortly. “And you are...?”

“Chase. Son of Brody,” Chase said automatically. “Henrik told you I was—”

“You’re not up-and-up on magic and need a course, yea,” Tripp interrupted, swinging his mask around his finger. Chase took a step back despite already being far away. If that went flying, those plaster horns would do some damage. “And he asked me to do it ‘cause I’m our second best guy.”

“You’re the—?”

“What do you know already, Brodyson?” Tripp continued. “Ever met a magic-wielder?”

“There were a handful in town—”

“Sorcerer, wizard, enchanter, oracle, witch?”

“I...what?” Chase blinked. “I...think they were all sorcerers.”

“How many?”

“Only a handful, about six or seven?”

“For a village of four hundred or so people?” Tripp laughed. “Everyone must’ve been magically impotent.”

“Could you slow down?!” Chase snapped. “I thought you were supposed to teach me about magic, not make fun of me for not knowing anything!”

Tripp paused. Then grinned. “It’s just banter, Brodyson. I didn’t mean offense. But hey, you called me out. Good on you for that. My apologies.” His grin faded. “But I’m not jokin’ about that. There should’ve been at least four times that number of magic-wielders in a town that size. What happened? Were the seekers bein’ lazy for the past few years?”

“...Seekers?” Chase repeated, puzzled.

Tripp looked up at the sky. “Oh, elders. They haven’t been showin’ up at all, have they? If you don’t even know about them—alright, we’ll start from the beginning, then.” He sat down on the ground, folding his legs under him. Slowly, Chase sat down across from him. “You know of the five branches, right? I’m pretty sure everyone in the world’s at least heard their names.”

“Yes,” Chase said, nodding. Wizards, sorcerers, enchanters, oracles, and witches. He mostly heard about them in stories, and was especially fuzzy on the details about those last three.

“A common mistake people make is thinkin’ these are all different things.” Tripp started drawing in the dirt with his finger. “When really, all magic is the same. It’s like a tree—just because each branch might look different, doesn’t mean they don’t all come from the same trunk.” And, in keeping with that metaphor, he drew a rough outline of a tree with five different branches. “All magics can work with each other, and there’s a lot of similarities in between them. For example, do you know the difference between wizardry and sorcery? They’re the two most well-known of the branches.”

“Um...if I’m being honest, I’d always been under the impression that wizardry was more powerful,” Chase said tentatively.

Tripp snorted in disbelief. “Some wizards would like to think that. But no. More varied, yes. But not more powerful. Here, it’ll be easier if I go over them all one by one.” He started to draw symbols by each of the branches, starting with a crude stick figure. “Sorcery is the most common magic besides witchcraft. It crops up in people at random. If you got twenty-five people in a room together, one would probably be a sorcerer, even if they didn’t know it. Its source is inside the person themself. And what it does is manipulate the world. Like...this.”

He pressed a flat hand against the ground next to him. After a moment, the dirt started to move. Then suddenly, pillars of rock shot through the dirt, rising from underneath the surface. Chase gaped as the solid stone started to twist, winding around each other to form a braid of rock. Then Tripp removed his hand, and the rock froze, as if it had never been moving in the first place. For a moment, Chase was stunned, then he managed to ask, “S-so you’re a sorcerer, then?”

“Exactly,” Tripp grinned. “Why d’you look so surprised? You said you knew sorcerers before.”

“Well...yes, but I hadn’t...seen their magic too much,” Chase admitted. He remembered one time when Gwen, the weaver’s daughter, had pulled water out of the well. It just streamed out of the depths and sailed right into her bucket. But occasions like that were few and far between.

“Hmm.” Tripp scrunched his face up, thinking. “Well, besides that. Each branch of magic has its strengths and weaknesses. Sorcery’s strength is that it comes from within. As long as a sorcerer doesn’t drain too much energy, they can use their magic forever. And its weakness is that you need a material to manipulate. Like just now, I reached down and pulled rock up from underground. But there’s a limit to the range where your magic can affect things.”

Chase nodded. “What about wizardry, then?”

Tripp sketched a rough outline of a necklace next to another branch of the tree. “Its strength is its variety. Wizards aren’t limited by what things are present, they can conjure out of thin air. But its weakness is in this: the ‘focus.’” He tapped the necklace drawing. “Unlike sorcery, wizardry doesn’t come from within. Wizards are channelin’ it from outside, from the layer of magic that coats the world. But to do so, they need a specially-made thing called a focus. It’s usually a necklace, ‘cause that’s handy, but it can be any shape, as long as it’s made the right way. These dragon bones, for example. They’d be real good to make focuses with.” He knocked on the nearest bone. “About one in fifty people are able to channel wizardry.”

“And now we reach the end of my knowledge,” Chase mutters. “What’s the next most common?”

Tripp paused. “Enchantment.” The image he drew in the dirt now was a misshapen lump. “Damn. That’s supposed to be a brain.”

“Ah. Right. Because enchantment is the magic of the mind, isn’t it?” Chase recalled, casting his memories back to the stories he’d heard that included enchanters.

“Hmm. Yea.” Tripp pursed his lips. “How do I explain them...Well, strengths. They’re the only magic that can work with your mind. Illusions, talking in your head, things like that. But as for their weaknesses, enchanters can’t change the world for real.”

“Is it true that enchanters can control your actions?” Chase asked. “There’s a story, the Dark Damoen—”

“The crazy old man who made Erinthold worship him as a god? That’s a famous one.” Tripp nodded. “Well, it’s true. Some could change your thoughts and make you do things you wouldn’t. But that takes a lot of power, and besides, most enchanters are decent people, like all the rest of us. It’s just that we remember the bad ones because they shock us. And only about one in a hundred people are enchanters, anyway. Don’t worry about it. There are a few Masked Phantoms who are enchanters.”

Chase nodded slowly. The thought of the old story sent shivers down his back, but he should probably trust the magic-wielder. He clearly knew more “What about...the oracles?”

Tripp drew a symbol of an eye in the dirt. “Those are the rarest one. You only get an oracle one in a thousand, if you’re lucky, and they’re not usually that powerful. You’ve probably heard that they issue prophecies of what’s to come, or that they might even be able to manipulate time itself. Well that’s all bullshit.”

“Wh—” Chase was so surprised at the frankness that he choked on his own gasp. After a few moments of coughing, he continued in a hoarse voice. “What do you mean?”

“Oracles can’t manipulate time, that’s the most insane rumor goin’ round about magic there ever was,” Tripp stated. “They get visions of what’s most likely to happen. It’s not for sure, and really, most oracles are wrong. But huge strength there, knowing the most likely future. And it comes with a big weakness. A couple, actually. One, they have to speak their visions out loud while it’s happenin’. It’s a magic...what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers for a bit. “Compulsion. That’s it. They’re literally forced to do it, can’t stop that. And two, the visions are all they can do. They have no other magic. And because of that, some say that oracles are cursed, not gifted.”

Chase thought about that. If he had the choice, would he take knowing the future for being forced to share it? Maybe. Maybe if he knew what could happen next, he could stop terrible things. Like...his heart panged, and he shied away from the thought. No, that didn’t sound too bad. People would also know what the future held, what of it? He’d take that risk.

“And the last magic,” Tripp said, snapping Chase out of his thoughts. “Witchcraft. It’s actually the most common.”

“Really?” Chase said doubtfully.

“I bet you’re goin’ by the stories, where witches are old people that stay in shacks and give out potions,” Tripp said, drawing a bottle next to the final branch. “But really, the magic of witchcraft isn’t in people, like all the others. It’s in the land. It’s part of the world’s magic. Plants with strange properties, the parts of magical animals...these can be mixed together to create amazing effects. And anyone could learn how to do it. In fact, most of us here have.”

Chase suddenly remembered earlier, how Nemet had put away some of the medicines during their meeting. It was because he didn’t know much about magic...“Wait, you mean anyone could make potions? Become a witch?”

“Well, not anyone,” Tripp muttered. “If you have magic of your own, you can’t learn witchcraft. The knowledge just slips away, and if we try anyway, nothing works, even if it should. You can’t use more than one magic. It’d be like tryin’ to hold onto every single branch of a tree.”

“If the tree was small, though?” Chase joked.

“It’s not. The magic tree is big, and the branches are the type where you need to hold on with both hands,” Tripp said firmly.

“Oh. I...see.” Chase cleared his throat. Clearly, using more than one magic wasn’t something to make light of. It was too impossible. “And...what about those seekers you mentioned earlier?”

Tripp was eager to move on. “Seekers are wizards that can sense the presence of magic. What’s supposed to happen is that these seekers are supposed to stop by every town twice every year. In practice, that’s faded away. Most towns only see them once a year, and the farther away you get from Suilthair, the less often you’ll see them. My town where I grew up, they came by every three years. But if you don’t know what they are, then...have you ever seen them?”

At that, Chase had a vague memory of a group of strangers visiting Hilltown when he was a child. They were dressed finely, and the image of an elaborate brooch one of them was wearing flashed in his mind. The next day, Hanson, an old friend of his, announced to all the kids that he was going away for ‘special school.’ “Not in years. Long enough for me to forget what they are.”

Tripp huffed. “I bet it’s not worth the effort to come all the way up here. Bunch of nambies.” He rolled his eyes. “Seekers are employed by the royal family. They find young magic-wielders and offer to give them schoolin’, to learn how to use their magic. Schoolin’ that’s funded by the crowns. It’s not required—I never went—but it’s encouraged. Otherwise you might end up having magic shootin’ out of your—”

“Is that why most wizards side with the King?” Chase asked, remembering what Henrik said about the source of the village fire.

“Part of it. But wizards especially have a reason to keep on the King’s good side.” Tripp paused. “Those focuses I told you ‘bout, that wizards need to use their magic? The crowns fund the makin’ of those, too. And the sellin’. And everything about them.”

“Oh.” Chase’s eyes widened with realization. “So...if a wizard decided to oppose the King, then there’s a chance that...they wouldn’t have access to a focus anymore? And...their magic?”

Tripp nodded. “That’s why most of us magic-wielders in the Phantoms are sorcerers and a few enchanters.”

“No oracles?”

“Oh, elders, no. You heard how hard they are to find. Wish we had some, though. That’d be helpful.” Tripp stretched his arms, then stood up. “Anyway, that’s all I have to say. You got it all?”

“I think so, yes,” Chase said slowly. He looked up to the sky, mentally reviewing everything he’d heard. Sorcery, wizardry, enchantment, oraclulary, and witchcraft. All very different, all with things they could do and limitations that slowed them down. That made sense. He nodded to himself...and then noticed the position of the sun. “Shit!” Chase shot to his feet. “It’s noon! I have—after lunch, I—”

“More meetings, huh?” Tripp raised an eyebrow, then pulled his ram mask back on. “Let me guess...Lukas and Holly? Better hurry, Brodyson. Not good to be late for those two.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase swung by the cooking fires to grab some food, then hurried over to the combat fields, along the dragon’s wings. Originally, he wondered if the wing bones would get it the way, but apparently the dragon had died with its wings spread out as far as they could be, leaving ample room in between the bones. The packed dirt was lined with targets, crude dummies made of sacks of hay tied to sticks, and racks of wooden training weapons. Occasionally there were random chests or tents set up to create obstacles to fight around. As he ran out onto the fields, he passed many people, some sparring in groups, others practicing on their own. None of them paid him any mind.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure where to go. The fields took up all of the space cleared by the wings, which was, as it turned out, quite a lot. Maybe he should have asked Henrik for descriptions of the people he’d be meeting with. Feeling his nerves eating away at his stomach, he turned to the nearest person, and asked, quietly, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Lukas and Holly?”

The person turned around, looked down at him, and smiled. “Oh, it’s you! You’re the new one!”

“Um...yes,” Chase said slowly. It was just now occurring to him how...big this person was—this woman was, actually, judging by her voice. She towered over him, and her sleeveless tunic showed off the muscles of her tattooed arms. Strange to be wearing no sleeves in the chill mountain air, but she probably wasn’t bothered.

“I’m Holly.” Her smile widened. “Daughter of Rose.”

“Oh!” Chase blinked. That name didn’t fit her at all. But alright, he wasn’t one to say anything. “Chase, son of Brody.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Holly grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. She wasn’t wearing her mask, but it hung around her neck. A bear. And the symbol on its forehead was the same as the one on Jackie’s wolf mask: a circle with two dots inside.  “Me and Lukas, we’re in charge of combat up in Wyvernlair. Speaking of which...” She turned around. “Luke! He’s here!”

Chase leaned around Holly to look at who she was addressing...and suddenly felt cold, despite his jacket. Now he remembered where he heard that name before. While he’d been sick with the shivering in the infirmary, he’d overheard a conversation between Jackie and a man in a fox mask. That man had wanted to throw him out of camp, but Jackie had refused...and now, Chase was staring at that very same man.

“I can see that,” Lukas said shortly. He was facing a series of targets, and didn’t turn to look at Holly and Chase. Instead he merely took another arrow from a quiver on his back, nocked it on his bow, and shot. The arrow flew straight into the center of the farthest target, which was barely the size of a hand spread wide.

“No you can’t, you didn’t even look!” Holly scowled, and turned back around. “Sorry about him, Chase. He’s been snippy.”

“Well I wouldn’t be snippy if I hadn’t been standing out here for an hour, waiting for someone who didn’t bother to show up on time,” Lukas snapped.

“I’m not an hour late,” Chase protested weakly. Even behind the fox mask, Lukas’s expression was twisted with frustration and annoyance.

“It’s a matter of principle,” Lukas said, finally turning to face Chase. When he did, Chase noticed the symbol on his mask for the first time: an X, with a dot to either side.

“Let’s just get into it,” Holly said, folding her arms. “Now, Chase. You’re a hunter, yes? So you have some experience with shortbows.”

“I can shoot, yes,” Chase agreed. “But I’ve never heard the term ‘shortbow’ before.” Lukas rolled his eyes, a motion that was partially hidden by the mask but still visible enough for Chase to catch.

“It means a smaller bow, in comparison to Lukas’s massive beast of a longbow over there.” Holly gestured towards Lukas’s bow; it was almost as tall as him. “Shortbows are better for mobility and closer range, while longbows are more suited for staying stationary and shooting long distances.”

“Ah.” Chase nodded. That made sense; bigger bows were more powerful, but also harder to draw back and move around. Amabel once tried to shoot Chase’s own bow when she was seven, and couldn’t pull the string even a little.

“I’m assuming you’re a fairly good shot,” Holly said, rubbing her chin. “So you’ll probably need to work with me more. I’m in charge of close-range combat, while Lukas handles the long range, with bows. So if we’re to—”

“Hold on a moment, Holly,” Lukas interrupted. “I want to see what he can do.”

Holly shot Lukas a dirty look. “There’s no need—”

“Of course there is. We should know what our starting point is.” Lukas turned and walked towards a nearby weapons rack, picking out a smaller shortbow and a quiver of matching arrows. He headed back to the others and thrust the tools at Chase. “Show me how well you hunt.”

“...alright. I will.” Chase took the bow and quiver slowly. He didn’t like being tested, especially not when the test was proposed by a man who clearly thought he was some sort of spy for the King and might be looking for an excuse to kick him out. Should he pretend to be worse than he actually was? No, that would just be complicated. He’d shoot normally.

He stepped up to the place Lukas had been standing, facing the targets, and strapped the quiver onto his back. For a moment, he examined the bow. Solidly built. Looked newer than the one he used back home. And had these odd curves...was this a recurve model? He’d heard of them, but never used one before.

“Soon, please!” Lukas called.

Holly promptly hit him on the back of the head. “Take your time, Chase! Don’t worry!”

Chase nodded. His mouth was suddenly very dry. But he swallowed his nerves, adjusted his stance, and nocked an arrow. He hit it against the back of his head in the process of taking it out of the quiver—not being used to wearing it on his back—and glanced back at the two watching to gauge their reactions. Holly looked supportive, but Lukas was unreadable. He looked away again.

There were ten arrows in the quiver and ten targets set up in front of him. He must need to hit all of them. So he drew back, aimed, and let loose the arrow.

Ten arrows.

Five of them hit the closest targets. Two of those hit their target’s center.

One hit the edge of one of the farther targets.

The remaining four missed.

Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned back to Holly and Lukas.

“Wow. That was the most utterly average thing I’ve ever seen,” Lukas said bluntly.

“You hit more than I can!” Holly said positively, giving him a short round of applause. “That’s great!”

Chase nodded silently. “I...I’m not used to this bow.”

Lukas hummed. He went to collect the arrows, giving Chase a side-eyed look as he walked past. It seemed as though his suspicions hadn’t been assuaged. If anything, he looked even more wary.

Holly walked up to Chase and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Chase promptly lost his balance from the force of the contact, and Holly helped him right himself. “Sorry about that,” she said. “And sorry about Lukas. He’s just...he has a hard time trusting people. I’m sure you’ll win him over.”

“It’s fine,” Chase said distantly. “I mean, not everyone’s going to immediately welcome someone new into a group like this. You need to keep secret. There are risks.” Still, Lukas’s distrust, combined with his mediocre shooting skills, left him feeling a bit down. Like a cloud passing over the sun, everything just seemed...disappointing.

Lukas returned, arrows in hand. “Do it again,” he said.

“Elders and Sisters, Luke, we don’t have all day,” Holly protested. 

“He needs to practice,” Lukas said, stone-faced.

“He needs to start with me! You can’t handle all your problems from a distance, especially in our situation. What’s he to do if a King’s man jumps him from behind and all he has are arrows?”

“It’s fine,” Chase repeated. He rubbed his arm; they hadn’t given him an arm guard, and despite the jacket fabric, his skin still stung from the bow string. “We have until dinner.”

Holly gave him a look, but sighed and stepped back. “One hour of shooting, then it’s my turn.”

Lukas nodded. “Deal.”

Chase sighed a bit, and took the arrows from Lukas. It was turning out to be a long day.

[castlebay-crossing]

The Villager in Tent Three: Chapter Three

Summary: When Aisling leaves her hometown for the island of Castlebay, as part of Tom Nook’s Deserted Island getaway package, all she expects is sun, sand and plenty of solitude. But when she gets there, not everything is as the brochure said. Secretive villagers, judgemental neighbours, and an antagonistic photographer turn out to be the least of her worries, however, when the mysterious villager in tent three turns up dead one night after a vicious storm that left the only plane off the island grounded. Someone on the island is a murderer. And it’s up to Aisling to work out who it is. Before they come after her, too.

Warning: Major character death, some description of violence

Other Links: Readable on AO3 and FFN.

A/N: Hoo boy, this one was a labour of love! Bit of a long chapter and a fair amount of stuff happens in it! Next chapter will likely be another long one with a lot of stuff also happening, then we’ll be dialling back to island life for a little while! So I hope you will continue to accompany me on this journey! Thank you to everyone who’s read, liked and reblogged so far! I really do appreciate every interaction! 

.-.-.

March 2nd, 2020 – Morning 

The medicine Muffy bought me worked like a charm. It came in two parts – a soft, sweet-smelling cream and a packet of small pink tablets. “Will cure most (non-fatal) illnesses and injuries!” the label boasted. I hoped I’d never have to test it on anything worse than the occasional sickness bug or ache and pain. Muffy helped me spread the cream along the injury and immediately, I felt the sting fade.

“Good as new, nightshade!” she trilled. “Do you feel better now?”

It really was quite remarkable how quickly it worked. Even the swelling looked like it was going down. “Much better, thank you.” I said. “Are you sure I can’t give you anything for the medicine, Muffy? Can I pay you back in some way? I feel bad you had to pay for it yourself.”

Muffy waved her paws at me. “I don’t need any Bells, nightshade! But, I suppose…” she tilted her head, considering. “One thing I do need is a punnet of fresh cherries. I ran out this morning when I used the last on my toast.”

I tried not to think too much about the concept of cherries on toast.

“You’ve seen the cherry trees, right?” she continued. “Even though fruit grows super-quick here, most of the trees near my tent have been picked clean. And the ones growing here aren’t quite ripe enough. But Bill told me there’s a huge patch of them right at the top of the island. I was going to go up but I’m too small to reach the best ones.”

“So you want me to get you… cherries?”

“Absolutely, nightshade!  If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

It did sound like trouble. Entirely too much trouble. But I couldn’t bring myself to say no to her. She was the first person who had shown me kindness, purely out of the goodness of her heart, in such a long time. Sure, Tom Nook had been kind, especially with the tent and the Nookphone, but it had come out of a package deal that had been bought and paid for. Muffy had done it simply because she wanted to help.

I made myself smile. “Yeah, I can go up and get some for you.”

“Thank you!” Muffy beamed. “I’ll be in my tent the rest of the day so you can drop by any time. And oh, nightshade? You should pick up a few extra while you’re down there. You can bring any items you find to Tom Nook and sell them for Bells. It’s the easiest way to make money.”

Muffy’s advice sound vaguely familiar. It rang a bell, as it were. I snickered to myself, and then cringed at the fact that I’d even entertained such a terrible pun. “Yeah, I think Tom Nook may have mentioned it before,” I said casually, trying to shake off the internal embarrassment.

Muffy nodded. “Well, I better get off home. Thanks again, you’re a solid cat! I’ll be waiting, nightshade!”

She waved me goodbye with one of her chubby paws and toddled away, leaving me sitting alone outside Nook’s Cranny. A wind picked up, lifting the hair from my forehead and leaving the leaves giggling in the trees. Everything else remained still and quiet.

I pulled the Nookphone out and booted up the Island Map. For the first time since arriving on Castlebay, I finally had a chance to look properly at the island’s layout. The whole island was cut into four “parts”, I suppose was the best way to describe it, separated by criss-crosses of river. And as Muffy had rightly said, although the island was fairly covered by trees, they seemed densest at the northern part of the island. But what was the easiest way to get up there?

I set to plotting a route. For all the different sections of the river, only two were passable by bridge. The eastern part of the island – where my tent was – was linked to the central area with Nook’s Cranny, Residential Services and Muffy’s tent. The northern most section – containing Bill and Morgan’s tents – was also connected to my section with a bridge.  I allowed a sigh of relief. It looked like I wouldn’t have to swim up the river or anything ridiculous like that.

It would be a long walk, though. One that would be better started sooner rather than later. I decided that I would call in at my tend and pick up my rucksack, as I didn’t fancy carrying piles and piles of delicate cherries by hand. I tucked the Nookphone back into my pocket, along with the remaining medicine, and set off.

.-.-.

It was lovely to explore the island a bit more. There was sort of a sacredness to the place, this rolling stretch of (mostly) untouched land under a strip of blue sky. The air smelled clean, heady with the scent of woods after rain. Trees lifted their branches up, like churchgoers at worship, gently shaken, but unyielding in the breeze. There was no path once I crossed the bridge into the top section of the island, so I had to wind my way though skinny tree trunks and uneven ground. Sometimes the trees grew so thickly clumped together that I had trouble squeezing past, and other times the terrain opened out into such sparse clearings that I felt exposed and vulnerable, like I was the only other person in the world.

There was a tent pitched about five minutes away from the bridge – a joyful orange in colour with a makeshift post-box stuck haphazardly into the ground. “Bill” was splodged on in blue paint. I took a few minutes to look around the campsite. Aside from a few loose boxes and what looked like the bones of a campfire, there was no sign of life – or Bill himself – anywhere. Muffy had said he liked running. Perhaps he was still off galivanting somewhere.

The cherry trees Muffy promised lay in a small grove twenty minutes away from Bill’s tent. Ahead of the grove, the grass unfurled into a small beach, hidden almost completely from sight by an outcrop of steel-grey rocks. The beach couldn’t have been any more than a few metres in width and length, with a single solitary beach chair set up near the water’s edge. It looked very peaceful. I had to remind myself I wasn’t here to sunbathe. I was here for cherries.

The cherry trees themselves had thin trunks and spindly branches – easy to distinguish from the thick firs and oaks – and the cherries dangled precariously, looking as if they’d drop at any moment under their own weight. The lowest branches hung just above my eye level, so it was easy enough to reach up and pluck the cherries from their stalks. Admittedly, someone Muffy’s height would probably have struggled. A twist of hunger gurgled in my stomach as I breathed in their soft scent. When was the last time I had eaten? I’d had breakfast before getting on the plane at Doveport Airport but between sleeping all day and the sting from the scorpion, I’d not had time to eat anything since. Remembering this, it was like a cavern of emptiness opened in my stomach. The flesh of the cherries was plump, a rich wine-red in colour and I couldn’t resist biting into one. Then another. And then another and another until red stood out around my mouth, my tongue tingled with the mix of sweet and sour, and my belly felt pleasantly full.

Strength returned, I shrugged off my bag, hoping the cherries wouldn’t get damaged when I packed them inside. Hopping from tree to tree, I shook branches and watched the red fruits topple into the grass, gleaming like precious jewels, and then scooped them into my bag. Once I was satisfied, I hoisted the bag back onto my shoulders and walked a few experimental paces. It was certainly heavy, but not enough that it would hinder me on the long walk back. Well, so long as I kept it slow.

With all the tree hopping I’d done I’d wandered away from my original stopping point. I unhooked the Nookphone to get my bearings again. Surprisingly, I found I’d gone far enough that I was closer to Morgan’s tent than anything else. If I squinted and looked across the dipping hills, I could see what looked like the top of a tent among the fronds of leaves.

I could bring Morgan some cherries, I reasoned. He’d come to this place with nothing and nobody, just the same as me. And if we were going to be neighbours, it would make sense to have each other’s backs.

The ground on the way up to Morgan’s tent was messy, littered with branches and weeds, leaving me picking my way across. Several heavy stones stood out like scars, great chunks of them cut away, exposing the ancient layers underneath. I could see Morgan’s tent clearly now, growing out of the hills, a distinctive red that seemed unnatural, bloodlike, against the green of nature.

I was so busy staring at Morgan’s tent that I didn’t notice the hole. My foot slipped on the uneven ground, plunging into a neat little gap. I stumbled and grabbed the nearest tree to steady myself, cursing. The whole tree shook under the impact. Then something dropped heavily to the ground, accompanied by a fury of buzzing.

When I turned my head to look, I came face-to-face with a loose beehive and many small angry bees.

I didn’t wait. Fear gripped my heart; I threw myself to my feet and I ran. Within seconds, the bees followed in one dark cloud, the tempest of buzzing filling my ears. I’d never seen bees behave like this before. Pushing myself through tight clusters of trees, I darted and wove, trying to throw them off, confuse them, but nothing worked. I needed to find cover, quickly.

Morgan’s tent! I’d forgotten about it in the flurry of panic. It wasn’t much, but it was somewhere safe. I pushed harder. The tent flap opened, and Morgan stepped out, his hair tousled, grimacing in the light of the sun.  

“Morgan!” I cried. Let me in!”

He turned towards me, his mouth hanging open. I heard some sort of garbled shout, words crashing into each other, and then I was grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside the tent with me. We crashed through the open flap and onto the ground, but I immediately pivoted on my knees and scrambled for the tent zipper, the droning noise of the bees still ringing in my ears. With trembling hands, I sealed us inside and sat back, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Morgan tugged on the back of my bag. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The presence on the bag was a sharp, and unwelcome, reminder. “My cherries!” I gasped, a brief vision of the fruit turning to nothing but juice pushing its way to the front of my mind.

“Your… cherries?”

“Yes, my cherries!” I opened the bag impatiently. Inside, the cherries stared back, some of them a bit bashed, but mostly intact.

“Why do you have so many—”

“One of the villagers asked me to bring her some cherries in exchange for some medicine she bought me because I got stung by a scorpion on the beach in the middle of the night!”

Morgan blinked. “Are you aware just how ridiculous you sound?”

I sighed and unfolded my legs. “Of course I do. And to top it all off, I disturbed a massive beehive…”

“Did you get stung?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t feel anything.” I checked my arms and legs all the same, but only the sting from the scorpion stood out. “Um… listen, I’m really sorry for barging in.”

Morgan went quiet. He looked around the tent a few times, his sharp eyes darting back and forth. The bees buzzed angrily outside, their tiny shadows flickering on the tent canvas like specks of paint. “It’s fine,” he said eventually. “You can wait until they’ve gone.”

“Thanks,”

Morgan’s tent was pretty much the same as mine – a camp bed, in camouflage green instead of my canary yellow, a radio and a lamp. But most of his floor space was taken up by his camera equipment and, strangely enough, a rack of tools, including a net and a fishing pole.

He caught me staring. “I like to be prepared.” He said, his chest puffed up. “Lots of good photo opportunities if I can catch my own fish and bugs.”

I nodded, struggling for something to say. Inside his tent felt strangely claustrophobic, with so much heavy equipment and so little floor space to share. He was uncomfortably close, and I could feel the heat from his breath. I looked down and ran my fingers over the ground, feeling the blades of grass underneath. The bees still flitted outside.

“Have you met the neighbours?” I eventually asked.

“Just one.”

“Which one?”

“Bill. He came by the tent at six in the morning to say hello.”

“Ouch,” I winced. “I’ve not met him yet. I think he must have been out when I passed by earlier.” Everything I said sounded limp. The sooner the bees went away, the better. Still searching for something to say to fill the silence, I thought of the villager in tent three, the one removed from the map. “Have you met the other neighbour?”

“Muffy? No. She’s not been by yet.”

“No, I mean the other one.”

“What other one?”

“The one in tent three. Have you not heard of him yet? Muffy said his name was Ross, but his location won’t come up on the map, so I don’t know where he lives or if he actually wants to meet anyone…”

Morgan returned a blank look. “I thought we were the only two humans here,” he said with the smallest twitch of his shoulders. Then, with a pointed stare, “Oh well. It’s not like I’m here to make friends anyway.”

I lowered my head, trying to conceal the redness of my cheeks. Neither of us spoke, the silence between us expanding further. Then I realised I couldn’t hear the bees anymore.

“I think it’s safe now.” I said, pushing myself to my feet. “I’ll… get out of your hair.”

To my surprise, he followed me back outside. I looked around, suddenly realising how completely unfamiliar I was with this area. Nothing but trees and the occasional rock. I couldn’t even pinpoint which way I’d come in the first place. I consulted the map on the Nookphone.

Morgan came to stand over my shoulder. I tried very hard not to mind. “If you’re looking to get back to Muffy’s, you could probably get there quicker by going straight over the river.”

I stared at the map. Morgan indicated the river that curved from just beyond his house inward to the centre of the island. A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. Sure, it looked quicker as the crow flew, but it wasn’t like I could grow a pair of wings and ride a good gust of wind across. I was stuck with stubby legs and no bridges this side of the island.

“There’s no bridges.” I said lamely.

“You don’t need bridges. You can vault over it.”

A vivid image of myself trying to vault the river and ending up soaked head-to-toe played inside my head like a rerunning silent movie. “Morgan, I’m not exactly a gymnast. And the river looks wide. And deep…”

Morgan made a low noise. “Wait there,” he said, disappearing around the side of his tent. A few moments later he returned with a long pole, easily as thick as the widest part of his arm. “You can use this. It’s a pole vault. Nook sold it to me after I went to his crafting course yesterday.”

The pole was at least a head taller than me, and surprisingly supple, but I didn’t trust it as far as I could throw it. Which likely wouldn’t be far. “How does it work…?”

“It’s simple,” he said, although I doubted it. “I’ll show you.”

Using the pole to anchor himself, he cleared the river in one jump after a short run-up. As he landed safely on his feet, I couldn’t hide the fact I was impressed. He vaulted back, a slight smirk curling on the length of his lips.

“Here,” he pushed the pole into my hands. It was heavy, and I struggled to get the balance of it. “If you hop over this river and keep going straight, you’ll end up hitting Residential Services eventually. It’ll be a lot quicker than going all the way back around. Of course, if you can’t manage the vault, you don’t have to. You can do the walk.”

I didn’t dare want to admit that I’d rather walk. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I’d never been massively physically fit and the idea of throwing myself over a section of deep water with only a wooden pole keeping me from falling in didn’t sit right with me. I forced a smile in its stead.

“Thank you. I can… bring it back later tonight, if you like?”

“Nah. Keep it. I can make another. You look like you need it more.”

I sucked in a breath, undecided if he was insulting me outright or inadvertently. Either way, I felt the smile on my face drop off. “Thanks,” I said stiffly.

“I didn’t mean to insult you.” He didn’t apologise, nor did he even sound sorry. “I just couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t exactly come here… prepared.”

I bit my lip and hoped he would let the subject go. It was hard to come prepared to a place like this from the situation I’d come from.

“You should get down to one of Nook’s classes.” Morgan continued. “He’s got all sorts going on, he’ll teach you everything you need. And if you don’t already have a net or a fishing rod, I’d suggest getting a hold of them. You really won’t last long without either of them.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I said coolly. “And the pole.” Out of a sense of obligation, I shrugged off my bag and opened it. “Would you like some cherries? I picked too many.”

“You’re fine, thanks. I don’t like them.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you around.”

“See you.”

Leaving Morgan, I walked further down the river. He had turned around and was facing his tent now, but I kept walking. There was absolutely no way I was going to let him see my attempts at vaulting across the river. Especially if I didn’t make it.

Finally, I found a part of the river that looked narrower. I dunked the pole into the water, pushing it down until it hit something solid. I wiggled it to test. Well, it would be as safe as anything else I’d done on this island so far.

I threw my head over both shoulders – just to make absolute sure that nobody was watching me – but something caught my eye in the distance. There was a tent sitting on the summit of a broad, steep hill. Nestled between thick clumps of trees, the tent was almost impossible to notice unless you looked up at the exact right angle. The flat top of the hill was rocky, falling away sharply on one side to cliffs hanging over the beach, and the hill upwards was covered in thick coarse grass and what looked like spiky brambles. It looked like whoever lived up there wanted to make it as difficult as possible for anyone else to reach them.

I pushed the thought away and got ready to make the leap. Trying to remember how Morgan had done it, it took me three “practice” run-ups to even gather up enough courage. On the fourth attempt, I plunged the pole into the middle of the river, pushed myself forward and sailed right over the water.

Landing on the other side, I fought the urge to jump around and cheer, thrilled with my own accomplishment. Even my bag of cherries had made it safely across. But as I turned around and looked back at the tent at the top of the hill, I saw a figure standing between the cluster of trees. The figure waited, unmoving, for what felt like hours. I thought maybe of waving, shouting a greeting, but the words died in my throat.

Eventually, the figure turned away and returned to the tent, leaving me with my heart beating erratically against my ribcage. This was becoming too much. The figure outside my tent, the one in the trees, now the one outside the third mystery tent. This settled it. I had to put all this straight. I couldn’t start a new life with these worries hanging over me like the clouds from an oncoming storm.

I needed to finally meet Ross. Tonight.