#and da presents it so perfectly

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

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[lev1hei1chou]

Orange Peel Theory

Gojo x reader, Nanami x reader (individually) Genre: Orange. Words: 630 Synopsis: Orange peel theory Masterlist

You sat on the kitchen island, a pile of oranges in front of you and a mischievous glint in your eyes. You had seen the latest social media trend of asking people to peel oranges for you, and you couldn't resist trying it out on your boyfriend.

"Hey, Satoru," you called out, a subtle smile playing on your lips. "Can you peel an orange for me?"

He looked up from his phone, his grin widening. "Of course, my dear. Anything for you."

You handed him an orange, fully expecting him to play along. Gojo took the orange and began peeling it, but instead of doing it the normal way, he started creating cute patterns on the peel. Hearts, stars, and even a smiley face adorned the orange peel. You couldn't help but laugh at his antics.

After a few minutes, you decided to leave the kitchen to enjoy the sunny weather outside. "I'll be back in a bit," you declared.

Gojo winked, still peeling away. "Take your time, sweetheart."

When you returned, you were greeted by the citrusy aroma of freshly peeled oranges. To your surprise, there were not just one or two, but a whole array of them neatly arranged on a plate. Gojo sat there with a proud expression, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Ta-da! I hope you like my masterpiece," Gojo said, presenting the plate to you.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight his creativity. "Wow, baby! You really went all out."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Well, when Gojo Satoru does something, he does it with style."

You picked up one of the oranges, appreciating the effort he had put into making them special. "Thank you, love. You always know how to make everything more fun."

He grinned, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the cheek. "Anything for you, my dear. Now, let's feast on these."

And so, the two of you spent the afternoon enjoying the sweet taste of oranges. Satoru Gojo sure knew how to make even the most normal tasks better.

You and Kento Nanami were spending a lazy Sunday afternoon together at your shared apartment. The atmosphere was calm and comfortable, with the soft hum of the air conditioner in the background. You found yourself craving something refreshing, and the pile of oranges on the kitchen counter caught your eye. Quickly, your mind went to the new social media trend. You knew Nanami would do anything for you, but still you decided to test it out.

"Hey, love," you called out from the living room, "could you peel some oranges for me?"

Nanami looked up from his paperwork, his expression serious as always. "Sure, I can do that."

You handed him an orange, expecting a straightforward peeling process. Nanami approached the task at hand with precision, his movements methodical. He peeled the orange so carefully that you couldn't help but watch in awe.

As he handed you the perfectly peeled orange, he spoke in his usual composed manner, "There you go."

You couldn't resist teasing him a bit, "Wow, baby, that's quite the skill. Are you sure you haven't been practicing your fruit-peeling techniques in secret?"

He quirked an eyebrow and looked at you, with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I assure you, it's a basic skill. Efficiency is key in every aspect of life."

You couldn't help chuckle at his seriousness but appreciated the effort he put into such a simple task. "Thank you, Kento. You're unexpectedly good at this."

Nanami nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. You fed him an orange, which he accepted almost instantly.

You continued enjoying the peeled oranges together, savoring the quiet moments and appreciating Nanami's hidden talents. This might have been a simple act, but it was one that showed the silent love that Nanami always had for you.

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - At the Barn

CONTENT WARNING: blood, gore

Previous | Next

Summary:

Twilight has decided to check on Apple Bloom’s new project! The innovative young filly has combined her lessons from Twilight and Zecora to make something new: a potion of duplication.

While they discuss Apple Bloom’s ingenuity, they’re interrupted by a strange sound and the sudden appearance of Big Macintosh. Big Mac should be in bed, but it looks like he has something urgent to discuss in private with Twilight. How out of character….

Transcript below:

Twilight: I’ll come along for a quick peek.

Apple Bloom: You won’t regret it! It’ll be super amazing!~

Apple Bloom: You know that potion of fruitfulness you showed me last time? I thought it was awfully similar to something Zecora taught me, so…

Twilight Sparkle: …You’ve been experimenting with pony and zebra magic! This is so exciting, Apple Bloom! This could be brand new magic!

Twilight Sparkle and Apple Bloom enter the Apple family barn, where Apple Bloom presents Twilight with a jam jar full of a strange liquid sitting on a stool, along with an apple.

Apple Bloom: Ta-da! I call it the Super-Duper Duplication Potion! It’s a bit of a mouthful, so SDDP works too.

Twilight Sparkle, smiling: I think that initialism will definitely be helpful.

Twilight Sparkle: How does it work?

Apple Bloom: If you just sprinkle a little bit on…

Apple Bloom tips the jar until a single drop of potion lands on the apple, which then begins to glow with a bright light.

Apple Bloom: Oh please work please work please work please work please—

The Apple begins to smoke, becoming obscured in white. With a sizzle and a pop, the smoke clears to reveal the duplicated apples. Twilight turns to look at Apple Bloom with awe in her eyes.

Twilight Sparkle: Two perfectly identical apples….Apple Bloom…

Apple Bloom: What? What is it?—

Apple Bloom lets out an excited gasp.

Apple Bloom: Oh oh oh is it my cutie mark?

Twilight Sparkle: I’m sorry, sweetie.

Apple Bloom: If…if even creating new potions ain’t enough, what if I never—

Twilight Sparkle stops Apple Bloom, raising her chin with her wing.

Twilight Sparkle: Apple Bloom, even if your cutie mark isn’t in potions, you are an incredible scientist. I hope you’ll continue your studies. I certainly look forward to what you’ll develop next.

Apple Bloom: Thanks, Twilight. I really do like studying with you and Zecora even if it ain’t my special talent.

Apple Bloom: I’m just glad I haven’t disappointed you, Twilight.

Twilight: Of course not!—

A strange groan suddenly interrupts their conversation, startling Twilight and Apple Bloom. Twilight, particularly jumpy ever since the Changeling attack at the royal wedding, screams and instinctively readies an offensive spell. Apple Bloom screams because Twilight is screaming. Big Macintosh reveals himself, looking awful.

Apple Bloom: Big Mac! What happened? You should be in bed! Is everything alright?

Big Mac: Nope.

Big Mac: Apple Bloom, leave out the side door and head straight to the house.

Apple Bloom: Wha—

Big Mac: Straight. To. The. House.

Apple Bloom: …Alright…

Big Mac: Good. And Twilight, a word? P-please.

Twilight Sparkle: Of course. See you later, Apple Bloom!

Apple Bloom: See ya, Twilight!

Out of sight for Twilight and Apple Bloom, beyond the barn door lies the crumpled body of a strange pony. Their face is disfigured. The skin of the face is torn and bleeding, and their jaw is broken. Their tongue lolls out limp, broken teeth and saliva mixed blood. Big Mac’s hind legs are bloody, and he stands favoring one leg, which appears to be wounded.

End of transcript.

[chernabogs]

For da prompt... ‘  i’m  tired  of  being  a  prince.  i  think  i  would  actually  enjoy  being  a  frog.  ’ with Malleus...🐸

can u imagine froglleus...

Hop To It

Inc: Malleus Draconia, Reader/Yuu, 1 goat, 1 cow, 1 frog Warnings: None bc this is actually a really sweet fic I promise. I diverted from angst and more into feel good for once LMAO. WC: 4k Summary: Your nocturnal friend invites you to an event at a local zoo. If he could've adopted that goat from Fleur City, he probably would've.

It’s not often you find yourself able to catch a break. Usually, your weekends are filled with needing to deal with the mountain of homework that’s grown over the week from neglect—not at your fault, of course. When you have a housemate with the mentality of a two-year old toddler, two friends that are magnets for chaos, and an overblot a month, things tend to pile up without you noticing.

But on this fine, dare you even say perfect, weekend you finally find yourself capable of catching your breath for a moment. You glance at your alarm clock to see that it’s well past the time that you usually wake up, and so with a languid air about you, you reach out to grab your phone and check the notifications.

You have a few text messages from the various group chats that you’re in—study ones save for the first year's chat—and then a few private messages. Your eyebrow raises at one in particular as your thumb drifts down to click it open. 

Ominous and to the point, isn’t he? You suppress a low chuckle of amusement as you pull up the keyboard. Despite both you and the Shroud brothers working overtime to teach Malleus the ropes of modern technology, including texting etiquette, he still seems to not grasp it in its entirety.

You think it a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. You know that your friend is of nocturnal affinity, but you’d think he’d realize you’re not apt to reply at 3 am by now. Within seconds of sending your message your phone buzzes again with a reply. 

Cut and dry, much like the man himself. He reminds you vaguely of an older parent trying to get their child's attention as you click the call button and heave a sigh. It rings once, then again, before the sound of someone picking up has a slow smile pulling on your lips. 

“I’m in your 3 am thoughts, am I?” You muse as you roll to the side to keep the charger cable from pulling too much. 

“Incorrect. Small mammals, in fact, are my 3 am thoughts.” Malleus’ smooth voice cuts down your hopes in 10 words as your brow furrows in confusion. 

“Elaborate.” In your time of knowing him, you’ve also come to realize that, to those he feels comfortable with, Malleus has a habit of streamlining his thoughts with little to no interruption from his brain to his mouth. Around politicians and strangers, he was perfectly composed in all ways. Around you, he was a certified yapper. 

“I have been made aware of the Sage Island Zoo hosting an event I’m most keen on attending, and considering what I know of you, I’d say you’d share the sentiment.” You hear a clattering sound from the other side of the line, followed by a mumbled curse before Malleus continues. “I want to pet a goat.” 

“I…” You click the speaker button on your phone before pulling up your browser to type in the zoo. “Hold on, I need to figure out what’s in your brain right now.” 

“Let me know when you succeed in doing so.” Malleus shot back as you scrolled through the zoo’s feed. You soon come across a post that seems to tell you what the man is going on about. There’s a petting zoo and expo happening at the zoo this weekend. Present will be the usual armada: lambs, goats, pigs, and alpacas. But they also highlight a special reptile and amphibian petting area as well. 

You give a small ‘ah’ of understanding as you share the post via text message with him. You doubt he’ll look at it—the complex multitasking of looking at a text message and talking on the line is still something that surpasses your young apprentices’ abilities. “You mean the petting event at the zoo, yeah? They got goats and such there.” 

“Correct! Well done, Prefect. I knew your fantastic abilities of deduction would get you there eventually.” 

You wish you could reach through the phone to pinch his smarmy face for that comment as you roll onto your back again. “And you thought of me when you saw that? Aw, Malleus. I am your 3 am thoughts!” 

“Did you want to go or not? I can easily invite Lilia, or Sebek, or Silver… although I fear Silver may end up falling asleep in the petting area. Or drawing far too many of the animals to him again…that might be quite the mess…” Malleus trails off into a thoughtful silence, which is another thing you’ve come to realize your friend does a lot. 

“Fortunately for you, my super busy calendar actually has an opening today that I can squeeze some ‘you’ time into.” You sit up with a groan of protest before looking over to Grim’s bed, where your companion is still snoring away, his belly and paws to the sky. “I don’t think Grim will be coming with us, though.” 

“That is fine. I fear he may not be compatible with the animals anyway.”

Your eyes narrow at how quickly Malleus is to agree that it would just be you and him going as you shoved the blankets off your legs. “Okay, then. Can you give me 30—” you pause and tug at your shirt sleeve for a moment before grimacing, “—actually, give me an hour. Then we can head out. The event starts at 10?” 

“According to their poster, yes. I saved it so that I may check to be sure.” Malleus sounds pleased of the fact that he’s managed to save an image from social media without a crisis happening. 

“I’m proud of you for that. If that’s the case, then let’s grab a drink beforehand.” You yawn as you finally rouse yourself, unplugging your phone and sliding your feet into your slippers. The floors of Ramshackle still manage to be brutally cold in the mornings, even with the new renovations done. You’d need to question Crowley on the furnace in the future. “I need some kind of breakfast.” 

“Perhaps if you woke at a reasonable hour, breakfast would not be a concern.” You hear the teasing lilt in Malleus’ voice. He’s in a playful mood today—more so then usual. 

He’s probably just pumped to get out and about again. 

Your nose wrinkles as your finger hovers over the ‘end call’ button. “Not everyone is nocturnal. I’ll see you soon.” 

____________________

An hour later finds you yawning in the lineup of a local coffee shop. The weather outside is continuing to be promising, with its blue skies and temperate air. You’re basking in the ambience of it all while Malleus, bless his heart, is pushing a pair of sunglasses onto his face. 

“It isn’t even that bright out,” you smirk at him as the two of you move closer in the line. A few patrons are staring at Malleus as he remains close to your side. You can’t quite blame them. Some might be gawking at the fact that the crown prince is standing in a coffee shop line like everyone else. Others might be doing so at the fact that he’s out again post-overblot. 

It’s been a bit of an uphill battle to get him on his feet—which is partially why you’re keen to keep him in this rare, uplifted mood. 

“To you,” he shoots back as he crosses his arms. A beige bag is slung over his shoulder, and he’s surprisingly dressed down for the occasion, wearing simple black dress pants and a dark long-sleeve shirt. You think the fact that he’s managed to wrangle up a pair of hiking boots from somewhere is quaint, too. He almost looks like he’d fit into a petting zoo environment. “To me, it is borderline blinding.” 

“My condolences for the weakness of your eyes.” You focus your attention back to the menu ahead as you feel his elbow hit into your side, making you hiss before chuckling. This coffee shop in question has become somewhat of a routine visit for you both whenever you’re out in town together, which is often done a) late at night and b) in the company of the rest of the quartet. Your attendance has been frequent enough though that you now know both yours and Malleus’ usual order. 

He likes his coffee black. You like yours with enough sugar that it might appeal to Sebek’s tastes. 

“I feel like you’re being ingenuine with that.” Despite the hurt in his tone, you know it’s all bullshit by the smirk that touches on the edge of his lips as you finally shuffle to the front of the line. After stating your orders to the slightly nervous looking barista behind the counter (who must be new, considering that the others are all used to Malleus by now), you spot Malleus reaching for his wallet in your peripheral. A sharp swat of your hand on his arm stops him in his tracks as you tap the debit card Crowley so kindly loaned you on the machine. 

“You didn’t need to do that.” He sighs as the two of you step aside to wait for the orders as you shrug and lean on the counter. You don’t mind buying something for your friends—especially if it’s Crowley’s money you’re spending. “I have more than enough funds to afford a cup of coffee.” 

“It isn’t about the money, it’s about the satisfaction it brings me to buy you something as a token of appreciation for inviting me out.” You pat his arm as the barista sets your cups on the counter before you hand it to him. You selectively ignore the way his fingers touch your hand for longer than necessary before withdrawing with his beverage. 

“Anyway, let’s go wrestle a kid, hm?” 

____________________

Malleus manages to get his revenge swiftly and without mercy when the two of you arrive at the zoo. Before you can even shift your cup into your other hand to grab your wallet, he’s stepping in front of you and setting down more than enough madol to purchase two passes. A part of you wants to tease him over this matter, but the man looks so damn proud when he turns and hands you the ticket that you just shake your head with a smirk and let him have it. 

Another thing about your friend—you can’t expect to do something for him and not have it returned in kind. You know he’s felt indebted to a lot of people ever since his overblot, and small gestures like this make him feel better in a way. You really have missed seeing his smile. 

You come to a stop when you get into the zoo itself to pull out the map of the area. “Right, so we need to figure out where—”

“Goats.” Malleus is looping your arm with his before you can even finish your sentence and hauling you to the side, leaving you to yelp at the suddenness of the motion. His bicep feels like solid stone against yours, which leaves you to accept the fact that you’re not getting out of this any time soon—and that you should really take Jack up on those workout suggestions. 

You continue to feel the stares as Malleus leads the charge towards whatever destination he has set in mind. A few people scatter off the walkway, and one particularly curious child points up at Malleus’ horns while boldly asking his mother ‘why does that man have horns?,’ but Malleus has blinders on as the two of you finally spot a sign for the petting exhibition ahead. 

The sign is large—as is the crowd. 

“Shit,” you mumble as you step closer to your companion. Usually you’re good with lots of people, but considering that it’s both hot out and now you’re entering a crowded space, you feel a knot of anxiety forming. Malleus’ other hand comes to rest on yours as he easily manoeuvres around with a few murmured apologies. His gaze is sharp and he seems far more alert now.

You figure it must be innate at this point. As a crown prince, being aware in crowds is a given, especially considering the high risk of kidnappings and assassination attempts that seem to plague the upper class of NRC. It’s only when a loud bleating sound cuts through the air that a smile graces his lips again as he pulls you aside. 

“Oh, marvellous,” he chuckles as he releases your arm (your poor, poor arm) and leans against the fence. A small grey goat is standing by the post, a few bits of hay hanging out of its mouth as it languidly chews. It looks like every other goat you’ve seen before—and yet Malleus is beaming like the thing is a divine gift. “Remember when that goat followed me around at Noble Bell, Prefect?” 

“Hard to forget. Sebek wanted to punt it across the square.” You lean against the fence next to him as he reaches down to pet the goat's head between its horns. The goat bleats again and tips its head back to bite at Malleus’ sleeve instead. “Probably because it kept doing that to you.” 

“Oh, you are bold, aren’t you? Unfortunately, I am not the snack that you seek.” Malleus sighs in mock despondence as he pushes the feeder closer to the goat. You jump onto his comment pretty quickly. 

“Did you just call yourself a snack?” You lean forward more to look up at Malleus, who diligently ignores you in face of cooing over the goat. You know this technique—it’s another one that your friend loves to do. 

The ‘I can’t hear you’ method. 

Well, you’re happy his confidence is back at least. You stealthily take a few pictures of him fawning over the animal to send to Lilia later before pocketing your phone and moving down the line. A few piglets are romping around their pen, as well as some ponies in the next, and a baby calf who looks up at you with doe-like brown eyes. It’s enough to make you stop and give the little guy some love as Malleus finally returns to your side. 

“See? Even you cannot resist indulging.” Malleus reaches out to scratch behind the calf’s ear with a smile as the small creature shuffles closer to the fence. “Innocence has a way of pulling us in. This calf knows nothing but what it has seen in the few areas it’s been carried to. It knows its mother, what it eats, its handlers, the stars, and not too much else.” 

“That’s a pretty sentimental way of looking at it,” you concede as you withdraw your hand and straighten up. The calf looks to you with those big brown eyes again before lowering its head to eat some of the hay off the floor. 

It seems utterly at ease with both you and Malleus—which is more than what could be said with the crowd. The stares towards your companion have amplified, and you can see it’s beginning to make him irate by the way he keeps casting a few dark looks over his shoulder. His one hand grips the fence hard enough that you’re worried he might snap the wood in a moment. In a bid to retain some of the peace of the day, you loop your arm with his, which causes his attention to snap back to you in surprise as you slot yourself easily against his side. 

“Wanna see what’s in the reptiles and amphibian section?”

____________________

You must admit, a part of you wants to see if any of the animals would react to Malleus. The man is a dragon-fae, after all. You know that bats flock around Lilia, and you’ve seen more than a few black-feathered birds cluttering around Crowley’s office window, but you’ve never seen any lizards or frogs responding to Malleus. So, when you enter the darkened room with the many tanks illuminated by heating lamps, you’re hopeful to see something amusing. 

Instead, you find that half of the cold-blooded fellows are still in their morning siesta. 

“It appears we’ve come at an inopportune moment for them.” Malleus seems more at ease now with both you at his side and the smaller crowd milling in the reptile section. Because of the darkness of the room, less people take note of the prince as you two make your rounds from tank to tank. A few ball pythons stir and look at you, and a gecko is plastered against the tank at another section, but most of the creatures lose interest and settle back to themselves within a few moments. 

Until you reach the frog tank. 

A sign posted at the side which reads ‘lift the lid at your own risk’ prompts a glimmer of interest in Malleus’ bright green eyes as he nudges the lid open to peer inside. Most of the frogs seem to still be dozing in their makeshift burrows, but one stirs awake when the lid pops open. The frog yawns and reaches a hand to rub its belly, blinking lazily as it does. 

You hear Malleus give a small ‘oh’ as he leans closer in interest. “My, he seems quite at ease, isn’t he?” 

“Probably thinks you’re his cousin or something,” you snicker as you look down at the other frogs in the tank. Malleus shoots you a narrow-eyed look before leaning back again. 

“... it’d be quite nice to be a frog, hm?” He gives a sigh before his gaze drifts to the other amphibians. “No stress, no conversation. Just hopping and eating.”

He does another pause of contemplative silence before continuing. “I’m quite tired of being a prince, you know. I think I would enjoy being a frog.” 

You lean back and look at him with a cross of both concern and amusement on your face. “Don’t the frogs usually try to become princes in the stories?” 

“I like to shake things up.” He flashes you a sharp-toothed grin as he looks back in the tank. Despite the amusement in his words and the smile he gave, you can still see the edges of exhaustion and frustration at the recesses of his expression. The crowd rubbed him wrong. He’s been on edge ever since his overblot, and it’s small things like that which send him back into makeshift pits of both despair and doubt. 

You don’t want to see him go back there, and you certainly don’t want Lilia questioning (again) why Malleus is in a sour mood (again). After the whole fiasco with him, the poor man is stressed enough as is without the addition of Malleus’ mental health. 

“You know what?” Your words come out as stern, causing his attention to snap to you in concern. “I know few people may say this, and many may not feel this way, but I like to consider myself somewhat of a different stock. So, I just want you to know, upon my heart and all the tuna I can offer Grim—”

You pause for a moment to draw it out, relishing in the way Malleus seems increasingly concerned before you finish. “—I’d still like you if you were a frog.” 

Malleus blinks slowly as your words tumble through his mind for a second before his expression falls flat. “I… really, Prefect.” 

You can’t keep the facade of sternness any longer as a grin appears and you nudge your companion in his ribs. A reluctant look of amusement crosses his features at this. “Let’s step outside for a second. This crowd is going to drive me insane.” 

____________________

The air feels fresher once you’re free of the crowds as you settle beneath the shade of a tree to finish your drinks. A breeze brushes over your skin and manages to cool some of the anxiety that blossomed from being amongst so many people after so long of being confined in your dorm on weekends. Malleus seems to grow more at ease as well when it becomes just the two of you again. 

“So.” You begin as you pop the lid off your coffee to slot it into the now empty cup. “You looked a little tense back by the cow pen.” 

Malleus is quiet for a moment as he sips his drink before clearing his throat. “Did I?” 

“Mhm. Are you doing okay?” A glance up at his face reveals his gaze fixated on the crowd beyond. He doesn’t answer you immediately as he takes another drink. When he does speak, his tone is less-guarded then before. 

Another thing about Malleus: somehow, throughout the trials and tribulations, he’s become a lot more open about how he’s feeling with everyone. 

“Not particularly.” He finally comments as he crushes his empty cup and tosses it into a nearby trash. “I don’t like to admit it—for it feels rather ridiculous to get upset over—but it still bothers me to a degree when some people… well. You saw.” 

You toss your cup into the trash alongside his. “Why is that ridiculous? You’re entitled to how you feel about something, you know.”

“It’s below my station.” A frown dances on his lips at this. You send him a sharp look in return. 

“Emotions aren’t below your station, Malleus. You’re allowed to feel upset if something is upsetting to you. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you need to bottle things up all the time. I would hope you’d realize that by now after everything that happened. You and the others all needed a lesson in emotional intelligence.” 

Malleus doesn’t reply, which leads you to keep talking to fill the silence. For a certified talker, he was certainly being mute about this. “I understand that it sucks, like really sucks, when people don’t want to talk to you, or treat you like an outlier because of your looks or your status. I know that you want people to engage with you, and you’re putting in the work to do that! You’re going to the coffee shop and talking to the barista’s; you’re coming out to places like this where people will be. The more they see you and get to know you, the more relaxed they’ll feel.” 

“It takes a long time.” His response is curt as he stares at the crowd. You give a sigh and shuffle to stand in front of him. He doesn’t seem aware of what you’re about to do before you’re moving forward to drag that man into the best hug you can give a guy whose arms are crossed in a huff. He tenses under your hold for a moment, and you begin to think that maybe he really is carved from stone, until he finally relaxes and lets you do what you need to do.

The guys probably only received a hug a good six or seven times in his life. You feel like you both need this. 

“It may take a while, but it does happen. The barista’s talk to you with no issue now, and the new one will get that way too. Again—you’re putting in the work, and I can see that, so please don’t try to bottle up all your feelings again. Or Lilia will kill us both.” 

You feel him huff a chuckle as his hand comes to rest on your back. His touch is warm in a way that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed, and you sink into that contact with a content sigh. The two of you remain in this embrace for a few seconds longer before you withdraw and awkwardly pat the prince’s arms. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he looks at you, gratitude easing its way into his features. You clear your throat and offer him a lopsided smile.

“Wanna try petting the goats one more time?” You ask softly. “Maybe they won’t try to eat your clothing the second trip through.” 

Malleus exhales, his shoulders relaxing as he takes your arm into his once more. “Yes, although I don’t hold much hope about that being true.”

[razorblade180]

A Splendid Day

Furina:*packing groceries* That’s everything. Thank you very much.

Merchant:The pleasure is all mine! You’re one of my best customers.

Furina:The price is still 500 mora for everything?

Merchant:On the house.

Furina:P-Pardon?

Merchant:Your birthday. It’s on the house, and I will accept nothing less!

Furina:But-

Merchant:It may not be a national holiday anymore and you may not be our Archon, but a little free macaroni and beverages is the least I’d like to offer. A birthday is still a birthday.

Furina:…*smiles* Thank you for the gift.

xxxxxx

A little later, the national celebrity walks down the streets of her nation only to be stopped by the sight of a top hat floating down into her hands. She looks up to see Lyney, Lynette, and even Freminet sitting on the railing of bridge covered in the nation’s flowers in a pattern that spelled her name.

Lyney:HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Lynnette:*clapping*

Freminet:T-Ta Da….

Lyney:C’mon you two. A little more energy.

Furina:Hahaha! My, my, this is quite the shock. *red* How long have you been planning this?

Lynette:Your birthday is no secret. We had ample time.

Freminet:The hardest part was keeping them alive long enough to do this.

Lyney:Just our little way of showing our gratitude. We wouldve baked a cake, but I fear our skills our outmatched in that department.

Furina:All cake is good cake if it’s sweet enough. Who is outmatching your-

???:Haaaapppy Birthday!

Furina didn’t get the chance to turn around before Navia swooped her up into a bear hug, spinning her around lovingly while Clorinde and Sigewinne held a small present patiently.

Furina:Never mind Lyney!

Navia:*puts her down.* How’s the birthday girl!?

Furina:Startled, but pleasantly surprised.

Sigewinne:Perfect! Exactly how a birthday should be!

Clorinde:Happy Birthday, Lady Furina.

Furina:Hehe, wow. Everyone take the day off or something? I was expecting a little get together or gift. Honestly I’m a tad embarrassed.

Chiori:*struts in* Since when does the wonderful Furina de Fontaine prefer a “little” get together?

Furina:How long have I been retired from leadership?

Chiori:Pfft, please. In or out of power, you’re still the same person who demanded dozens of retakes for a film in the name of “producing a diamond among diamonds in the craft.”

Furina:And we won! I will never forsake the arts!

Sigewinne:And we will never forsake your wonderful efforts.

Her and Clorinde walked up and presented the box. Furina only had to undo the ribbon to reveal it to be a makeup box containing an array of colors and tools to use.

Sigewinne:I made every color!

Clorinde:I made the box.

Chiori:Now we stop by my store so you can feast on Navia’s pastries in style.

Furina:How many pastries?

Navia:Yes.

Furina:Fantastic.

xxxxxx

More than 500 birthdays, and this might be the first one filled with true joy. Eating cheesecake while wearing a lovely pale blue sundress with dark blue water droplets on the skirt and cuffs that matched the sun hat she was given. Her nails matched perfectly and her lipstick was admittedly a little ruined now because of danishes, but she didn’t care! Furina even smelled like fresh rain thanks to Emilie’s lovely new perfume she made with the help of resource gathering/testing from Chevreuse and Neuvillette.

Charlotte took a photo of the girl’s pure joy as she dined with friends.

Furina:!? Please tell me you didn’t take that mid bite?

Charlotte:Of course I did. You need moments to smile at.

Furina:Myself!?

Wriothesley:*pouring more tea* Gotta admit, I’m a little jealous I didn’t get this brand on my birthday.

Clorinde:You didn’t like the “gift” I gave you?

Wriothesley:Oh I loved it. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Navia:Don’t spoil good food with certain topics you too. This is a sweet gathering. Not saucy.

Furina:You all really outdid yourselves. I don’t know what to say aside from thank you.

Lynette: “You can have the last slice” is a second option.

Freminet:Ummm-

Lynette:It was a joke. I would never rob someone of that honor. The last of any dessert is always the best.

Furina:Would you like to split the-

Lynette:If you insist.

Furina cuts the last danish is half and shares, giggling alongside her friends at Lynette’s perky ears as she ate. The girl was swept in the laughter she hadn’t realized Neuvillette had finally joined them.

Neuvillette:Today seems like a wonderful day to be out.

Furina:Huh? Neuvillette!? You took off too!?

Neuvillette:Is that so strange. Half the day has gone by. I used it do enough work to give the rest of today to properly wish you a wonderful birthday. I’m happy to see others make that possible.

Furina:Yes, it’s really more than I ever hoped her. I’m serious when I say I don’t really know what to say. Frankly I-

Navia:Now don’t go saying “I don’t deserve it.”

Chevreuse:She’s right. Thank you is more than enough. Besides, everyone here would easily agree that you deserve nice things ten fold.

Furina:Sniffles You guys… don’t make me cry today!

Neuvillette:So*reveals jewelry box* this might be a bad time.

Furina:You have another gift for me!?

Neuvillette:I wouldn’t count pointing out a good source of water for your perfume as a my gift. I could do that any day of the week. This however, took quite a bit more time and a trip to the bottom of several bodies water.

Knowing Furina best, Neuvillette wrapped the gift in a way that allowed her to still open it with ruining the design. The young lady choked on her own breath when her eyes saw shining white pearls in the form of a necklace. Neuvillette took the jewelry and put it around her neck while everyone was stunned into silence.

Freminet:Those are- how did you find so many perfect pearls?

Neuvillette:I am no stranger to sea life or waiting.

Navia:And here I thought I gave the best present without a doubt.

Clorinde:It wasn’t a contest.

Lyney, Lynette, Chiori: No it kinda was. We went all out.

Furina:I’m just- these are so expensive looking! And beautiful! I might have to start revising my entire wardrobe to wear these more often.

Neuvillette:Hehe, I don’t mind if you limit their use to a special occasion like today or a grand opening of a play. I simply wanted to give you something only I could manage, like everyone else.

Wriothesley:All I did was supply a big enough kitchen for Navia. Now I’m starting to think I should’ve fought some ancient monster for gems alongside Clorinde.

Chevreuse:Umm, Clorinde? When you said you made the makeup box….

Clorinde:I used only the finest of materials. It just so happened the finest things may involve interacting with less than fine creatures.

Furina:You could buy a box! All of you are so…wonderfully ridiculous. Neuvillette, thank you for this. I love it. Today has truly been splendid. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Charlotte:You’re welcome!

Emilie:Charlotte, what was your gift.

Charlotte:Who do you think made all the invites, planned the timing and picked the location? It’s a little past midday, the space isn’t crowded, and more importantly, Furina still hasn’t eaten a proper birthday cake!

Furina:Ooooo I still get one? Wonderful! Although…I’m admittedly a bit on the fence. *crosses arms* I can’t believe Aether bragged about his baking skills just to go off to Natlan before ever letting me get my own personal cake! Not to mention not a single birthday letter! He’s probably off breaking some law right about now or fighting an ancient evil he stumbled into.

???:That sounds more like you, than me. I’m actually careful.

???:Yeah! How else would be able to carry a packaged cake through the desert!?

Furina froze up, her heart skipping a beat after hearing two familiar voices call behind her. She slowly looked over her shoulder and saw familiar faces that made her ignore any on lookers as her body took off out of her seat without thinking; the girl was full on sprinting towards Aether so quickly that he had no choice but to hand over the three layered cake to Paimon before catching Furina, who jumped right into his arms. Thankfully Clorinde zipped over to help Paimon balance the final dessert, but frankly, everyone doubted Furina cared about the cake as her embrace around Aether grew tighter while he spun her.

Furina couldn’t care less about any pictures getting taken or the giggles from her friends at the moment. She was just happy to be held again, resting her face in the crook of his neck.

Aether:H-Hello. You look lovely. I take it you missed me?

Furina:Yes. Don’t you dare let go until I say so.

Aether:*red* O-Oh. I thought you were going to deny it.

Furina:Later, but for now…

She raised her head to see his dumb smile before giving Aether a heartfelt kiss. Clorinde leaned over awkwardly and pulled down Furina’s sun hat over the two in order to create any semblance of privacy.

Neuvillette:I think she forgot she’s in company.

Sigewinne:Well, I think Aether won.

Navia:If I had to lose, it’s an honor to go out like this.

Chiori:You actually lost to Charlotte. If she planned the spot alongside the timing with the invites…

The reporter held up a photo of birthday girl with a tearful smile getting spun around in the arms of her happiness smiling back at her as the warm light of the afternoon barely broke through around the vast colors of flower petals.

Charlotte:Like I said, you need moments to smile at.

[axelsagewrites]

Aegon Targaryen*Wrapping Presents

Modern!Aegon x reader

Christmas drabble

Warnings: pure fluff

Masterlist here

"No you're doing it wrong!" You pouted as Aegon tried to wrap the gift for his brother. Keyword being tried. "You need to smooth the side out first,"

"like this?" He asked as he did it wrong again. All you had to do was look at it and he could tell it was wrong. Aegon huffed as he sulked back in his chair, "this is why I buy gift bags,"

"Gift bags are so clinical looking though," you said as you finished tying a bow on your present to Heleana, "this just screams Christmas," you grinned at him.

Aegon rolled his eyes but smiled as he stood up and kissed your forehead, "okay fine but I'm gonna get a drink then try again okay baby,"

"It's alright I can wrap them," you said as you took the paper off of Aemond's gift.

"No," Aegon said as he scooped the gift out of your hand and began to bring it to the kitchen with him, "God help me I will do it I swear," he declared making you laugh at his antics, "You want some hot cocoa?"

"Oh yes please!"

-

Aegon did kind of wrap the gifts okay. It could have been far worse at least but you were proud of him for trying and glad you didn't end up the designated wrapper upper. Christmas day came and you woke up to kisses being peppered down your face.

"It's too early," you tried to protest but it came out as more of a laugh.

"Cmon I let you sleep in till 9," he pouted as he moved to lay half on top of you as his arms wrapped around your waist, "I wanna do presents," he whined as you groaned, "I even made you coffee,"

"Coffee?" You asked, sitting up slightly, "where?"

"In the kitchen," he grinned making you groan again but finally you gave in and got up.

-

You ended up sat by the Christmas tree with Aegon after a quick breakfast in the kitchen. He had already put on the new hoodie you'd got him, which you were definitely going to steal from him, and was buzzing about the new gaming head phones you got him plus the sticker pack you got so he could decorate his laptop and pc with them.

"You're turn," he said as he reached under the tree. The night before he'd put your present under it but he refused to let you even be in the room when he did and made a makeshift blanket barricade around it so you couldn't see.

"Ta da," he grinned and you gasped slightly when you saw the first box, "did it all my self,"

"Aegon it's beautiful," what you hadn't known was after failing miserably at wrapping his families presents he stayed up all night doing yours.

The boxes were wrapped in a vintage Santa wrapping paper with a thick green ribbon wrapped perfectly around and tied into a neat bow. "You have no clue how long that took me," he laughed.

"Aww I feel bad opening it," you pouted.

"Cmon do it! Tear that bitch open," he said, doing a drum roll on his thighs as you tore into the perfectly wrapped gift to get an even more perfect gift from the most perfect boyfriend.

Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @jmii722 @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-joxie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @clairacassidy @valeskafics @jacesvelaryons @starkleila

[wonwoosthetic]

Presents and Surprises 🌷 Minnie

< series masterlist

word count – 1.2k

"Now every one of us has a present?" Seungcheol asked into the round. Some of the members, who had just received individual gifts were already playing around with them - DK was playing around with his camera, while Dino was trying out the Beyblades he had gotten.

The leader got a round of hums and nods in return, letting him continue, "Then there's only one gift missing, right?" His eyes drifted over to the girl, who hadn't left her seat right next to his during the entirety of the livestream.

Minnie was already grinning brightly, nodding excitedly as soon as those last words fell from the rapper's lips. A few of the members who were actively listening to the oldest scrunched their eyebrows in confusion.

"What are you talking about, hyung?" Seungkwan wondered, turning around to glance at the leader. The girl's big smile didn't give him any clues.

"Minnie has something share," he told the '98 Liner, which got a frown from the female member in return. The mention of another present gained the attention of almost everyone in front of the camera, even the idols on the other end of the couches now looking over.

"Wait- me?"

Cheol nodded.

"No, we-," she pointed between the young rapper and her, "Vernonnie and I have a surprise."

"Huh?" The man in question lifted his head up, being caught off guard by the conversation he was having with Minghao. "Me?"

"We have a gift. For Carats," Minnie explained further, standing up from her place on the couch, straightening down Seungcheol's jacket she was forced to wear.

Vernon, still as confused as he could possibly be, followed her movement towards the production crew behind the camera.

"We do? Oh-," Suddenly the lightbulb in his head lit up, "Sh- right, yeah, we do. We do have one." He was quick to follow, pushing himself up from the floor, ready to go along wherever she was heading. Minnie was back in view, holding onto a piece of cardboard paper close to her chest, not revealing what was portrayed.

"I almost forgot about it," Vernon chuckled to himself, joining her by sitting down in front of the low tables in the middle of the room. The members behind it had spread out slightly, so everyone could still be perfectly seen.

Minnie's grin fell in an instant, straightening her back as she glanced at the younger member. "Wh- how? We wrote this together!" She scoffed out loud, already dropping hints at what they were about to reveal.

"Well, you wrote a song-" The '98 Liner tried to argue, but the girl was having none of it.

"We did! We both wrote it. You wrote your part."

"Some of it, but you wrote most of the lyrics," Vernon continued to explain, laughing at the pure disappointment on her face. The members behind them joined him, chuckling at the two bickering like the typical brother-sister duo they were used to.

"You're throwing me under the bus!"

"What? No, I-"

"So if the song doesn't do well, I'm to blame," Minnie dramatically whined out, pushing him away from her as he tried to touch her shoulder.

"No," Vernon chortled, by now hunched over, holding onto her arm for support, "We both wrote it, but you did most of the work on the lyrics. And it turned out very well."

The girl shook her head with a laugh, "Unbelievable. But anyways-" she turned back straight towards the camera.

"Yes, please just reveal it!" The leader tried to mediate the situation, chuckling at the scene in front of him.

"We… we kinda already did…" the young rapper spoke quietly, making the girl giggle as she suddenly turned around the cardboard she was holding onto.

"Happy Birthday, Carats!"

Revealing the art cover for their soon-to-be-released single. A round of applause filled the room as Vernon got a hold of the art, letting his eyes roam over the entire frame.

"We wrote a song together!"

"Wow… it looks really cool," his comment got the attention of some nosy members behind him, who had come forward to get a closer look.

"Ooooh, it looks so moody and dark," Dokyeom stated.

Minnie chuckled, "But that's… actually not really the vibe."

"Then what is the vibe of this song?" Hoshi wondered, getting back to his seat after he looked at the cover.

"Hm…" the girl thought out loud, "What would you say?" Turning to her right.

The '98 Liner looked up at her before turning towards the camera, handing the artwork to the members who were desperately trying to get a hold of it. "I would say… happy? Ehm… exciting? I don't know how to describe it honestly," making Minnie chuckle as he grinned sheepishly.

"I think you're right though," she glanced behind her, smiling at the rest of the group who seemed just as excited as them. "The song is called 'Stupid In Love' and I think… I think it's the perfect song for Carats."

"What is it about?" Joshua questioned her, getting a shrug in return.

"Being in love?" Her answer sounded more like a question, getting a gentle shove to her shoulder by the younger member who was still sitting next to her, chuckling at her response. "I don't know what else to say!" She defended herself, "If you hear the lyrics, you'll understand."

"Yeah," Vernon nodded in agreement, "The lyrics are a lot of fun and the song in general is supposed to, kinda, uplift your mood," he explained.

"You worked really hard on it," Mingyu suddenly commented, making the two younger members turn their heads. "You spent a lot of time in the studio." His fellow rapper bobbed his head.

"Should we give them a small teaser of it?" Minnie asked the group, which was quickly followed by hollers and claps in excitement.

"But, didn't you also make something for the song?" Wonwoo interrupted before the production crew could play the snippet of the chorus.

The girl's eyes lit up immediately, "Yes! But you-" She shot up, peeking back for a split second before turning around again, "Never mind," she shook her head with a mumble, getting a few chuckles from the guys as she sunk back down. "I…" Minnie looked down at her hands, "You'll have to listen to the entire song to understand it. But I think once the song is out, Carats will… really appreciate it," nodding along with what she was saying.

"I'm sure they will," Vernon spoke up, smiling over at the female member. "It's a good song, we did well. Can we play it now?" He asked the crew, who was already waiting for the exact moment.

Just a moment before the song was played, Minnie shouted out, "Happy Birthday, Carats!" Sending hearts into the camera as her and the rapper's voices filled the room. Moving slightly closer to him, the girl nudged Vernon's side, making him glance over at her, his eyes falling to her hand that was already formed into half of a heart. He copied her gesture, his head bopping along to the rhythm of the song he produced and wrote.

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[mememaestro]

Cathleen Head-cannon:

As I work on my first story, I decided to make a fun scenario of what she(young version) is like with the reader. ————————————————————————————————————————

From your first meeting, she seemed distant and cold though you weren’t sure why.

You two would only be able to see each other during your lunch breaks since your schedules didn’t aline well.

Compared to most of the other soldiers, she seems to let her guard down around only you (you suspected it was because you were one of the few woman in her camp).

After meeting for a month, you were able to developed a bond with her which revealed how much a goofball Cathleen was.

Whenever you sat down, she would constantly sneak a piece of food off your tray even if she had a perfectly good meal in front of her. She insist that it was to annoy you but you soon discovered the other reason behind it. Based on the sounds of satisfaction she made and her sways when eating your food, you knew she was too stubborn to admit she liked your cooking.

Soon after your friendship formed, you started to notice her appearance become more frequent around you. Though it was nothing too long since Cathleen still had her duties.

Outside of work, Cathleen would come up with any excuse to be near you. Running an errand? She would claim to be head to the same location though never actually bought anything.

One night, as you were settling into bed, someone started banging on your door. Unsure of what their motive was, you pick up a bat and slowly crept towards your door. “Who is it?” You ask trying to identify them. “It’s me” a familiar voice said which calmed your nerves. Opening the door, you were met with a disheveled Cathleen who was holding a flower in her hand. “I saw this and thought you might like it” she claimed as she presented the flower to you while pouting in a different direction. You took the poor flower and as you look back up, you swear you could see a faint blush emitting from her cheeks. “Um thank you” you laughed while stepping inside your home but turning around when you noticed her standing awkwardly by the door. “Don’t just stand there, come in” you invited and turned back around to head into the “living room”(just a part of the small room that looks similar to a living room). Cathleen perked up and quickly followed like a puppy. You sat down on the couch while she sat surprising close to you. There was a pause as you sat there expecting some sort of explanation as to why she was up so late, especially here of all places,

As you tried to come up with a reason by yourself. A long sigh escaped Cathleen’s mouth as she turned towards you with determination blazing in her eyes. *Which kinda stirred something inside you if you know what I saying.

“I want you” She said without any form of hesitation which caught you off guard. “Though we have only known each other for a few months, I can’t deny these feelings I have and this want- no need to be around you” She continued reaching for your hand and caressed your knuckles.

You didn’t know what to say but you definitely understood how you felt. From the jolt in your heart to the butterflies swarming in your stomach, you knew you also reciprocated her feelings.

As she stared at you waiting for an answer, you were unable to form the words to describe your feelings so, instead, you settled for grabbing the collar of her jacket and pulling her into a kiss.

It was Cathleen’s turn to be caught off guard but she quickly made a move of her own by grabbing the small of your back and below your thigh to lift you up on top of her. You continued this lovingly make out session while she held you on her lap trapping you between her body and arms.

You pulled away breathing heavily while she quickly recovered her breath. Though she wasn’t done and moved down to your neck to plant feathery kisses across it and down to your cleavage. You let out a small giggle which caused her to look up at you with clouded eyes that held something dark within them.

“Oh~ I liked that” She grinned at you with eyes that seemed to be filled with what looked to be dominance and a hint of lust. You once again felt a jolt of heat surge through your body but soon after felt a wave of exhaustion.

You looked over at the clock to see it was 1:00 AM. “I should get to bed…” You trailed off feeling slightly disappointed she will be leaving.

“May I join you?” She asked with confidence from who knows where though you weren’t complaining. “Absolutely”.

Once given permission, she held you with one arms under both your legs so you were in a sitting position holding her neck.

As she entered your bedroom, she placed you down on the bed and removed her jacket and shirt but left her sweat pants on.

Though you knew she was fit, your eyes still lingered on the defined muscles that enveloped her body. She caught you out of the corner of her eye staring but decided to let you gawk at her feeling a sense of pride from your reaction.

Since the bed was only a twin, she laid down on one end of the bed and pulled you right against her chest as she spooned you from behind. One of her arms rested under your pillow and hung off the bed while the other held you snug against her form which emitted a soothing warmth.

Though you couldn’t see her face, you felt a smile form on her lips as she pressed her head against your neck and planted a long but loving kiss against it.

As you felt yourself drift off to sleep, you heard a whispered I love you escape her as she curled herself further around you.

This new found love and safety you felt also caused a smile to form on your face as you let your mind drift off.

[advisorykitty]

Two is a Partyⁿʸᵒⁿ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

You had no idea how you got yourself into this situation.

It started with a simple task: get a snack from the kitchen. Simple, right? Somehow, though, you ended up sitting on the living room floor with Nyon—Luther’s mysterious, soft-spoken catman—attempting to have a conversation.

Attempting, being the keyword.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Nyon didn’t talk much, and when he did, it was usually a strange mix of heavily accented Russian and vague gestures that left you more confused than enlightened. The whole situation was becoming a comedy of awkward pauses and half-formed sentences.

You sat there, legs crossed, giving your best “I totally understand” face while internally screaming: What is he saying?

Nyon was staring at the wall now, lost in thought. His ever-present hat tipped forward, partially shadowing his eyes. Was this normal for him? Did he always zone out mid-conversation? Or was he, like you, wondering what the hell this interaction was supposed to be?

“So… what do you usually do for fun around here?” you asked, once again breaking the silence, hoping this time he’d catch on.

Nyon blinked a few times, then turned his head toward you, his expression unreadable. “Fun?”

You nodded eagerly, desperate for anything resembling a real conversation. “Yeah, like, do you watch TV? Play games? Read? I noticed you like to read.” You pointed to the battered novel sitting beside him on the couch.

Nyon blinked again, his face still expressionless. Then, as if after deep internal processing, he nodded. “Da. TV… and reading.”

Well, you thought, this is progress, I think.

“Nice! Uh, do you do anything else? Like, make stuff?” Your words were coming out in a sort of nervous ramble, trying to fill the silence.

Please, just say something normal

You begged internally.

Nyon’s ears perked up slightly, and his expression shifted, as if you’d just sparked some fond memory. “Da… bombs.”

You blinked. Bombs?

“Wait,” you said, trying to maintain your composure, “like… literal bombs?”

Nyon nodded, as casually as if he’d just said he liked knitting. “Small bombs. Only small.”

Oh, great. He’s a bomb-making catman. Lovely.

You had to hold back a laugh, not because you found bomb-making funny, but because this whole situation was so absurd you were starting to lose it.

“Right, right, small bombs,” you echoed. “Cool, cool.” This is fine. Totally fine.

There was another awkward pause. Nyon, seemingly pleased with his answer, went back to his quiet contemplation of the room, leaving you to internally panic once again.

I’m stuck in a room with a bomb-making catman and have no idea what to talk about next.

Awesome.

Nyon, as if sensing your discomfort (or maybe just getting bored), reached for a bundle of tissues next to him. You watched in confusion as he began meticulously folding and twisting them into a strange little figure. After a few moments, he held it up for you to see.

“This,” he said softly, “is smoke join.”

You blinked at the tissue figure, then at Nyon. “Uh… smoke joint?”

Nyon nodded again, dead serious. “Da. For smoking.”

What?! You stared at the tissue creation, half expecting it to do something miraculous. “Wait, you actually smoke these?” you asked, your voice teetering on the edge of laughter.

Nyon, still entirely serious, nodded again. “Da.”

Of course he does. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing out loud. “Okay… cool. Can I—uh—have one?”

Nyon, ever the gracious host, immediately began making another smoke joint for you. Within moments, he had began filling it with some dried green looking substance, a you looked at what he was creating lik some kind of sacred relic.

I’m about to smoke a joint. What is my life?

Nyon seemed perfectly content, his ever-present hat tipped forward slightly as he lit the end of the joint with an easy flick of the lighter. He took a slow drag, his expression as neutral as ever, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

And then he handed it to you.

Oh no.

You took it cautiously, like it might explode if you breathed on it the wrong way. Okay, just be cool. Just take a drag. How bad can it be?

With a deep breath, you brought the joint to your lips, mimicking what you’d seen Nyon do. You inhaled.

Big mistake.

The smoke hit the back of your throat like fire, and immediately your body betrayed you. Your eyes watered, your throat seized, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from hacking up a lung.

OH GOD, WHY DID I DO THIS?

Nyon was watching you with mild curiosity, completely unfazed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. You could practically hear him thinking amateur in his calm, Russian-tinged mind.

You held in the cough with all your might, your lungs burning, your face turning a worrying shade of red as you exhaled shakily. “S-see? No big deal,” you managed to choke out, blinking furiously as your vision blurred with tears.

I’M GOING TO DIE.

Nyon, still expressionless, gave a small nod of approval and took the joint back from you, taking another smooth drag like a pro. Meanwhile, you were sitting there, trying to discreetly gulp down air without wheezing.

“Are you... ok?” Nyon asked, his voice soft and polite, though there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was that the beginnings of a smirk?

“I’m good,” you wheezed, blinking away the tears. “I’m totally fine.”

I AM NOT FINE.

Nyon didn’t seem to buy it, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he reclined against the wall, letting out a slow stream of smoke with a contented sigh. You watched, wondering how he could look so calm and collected while you were internally screaming.

After a moment of silence, you decided to break it, hoping to distract yourself from the fact that your throat was on fire. “So… do you, uh, do this often?” you asked, gesturing vaguely toward the joint.

Nyon shrugged. “Da. Sometimes. It is… relaxing.”

You nodded like you totally understood, even though your brain was currently doing somersaults. Relaxing? How does anyone relax like this?!

Desperate to shift the focus away from your very obvious discomfort, you tried to engage Nyon in conversation. “So, uh, you like Dostoevsky, right?” you asked, eyeing the novel on the floor next to him. “I noticed you’re always reading his stuff.”

“Da,” Nyon nodded, taking another drag before passing the joint back to you. “It is… nostalgic. Reminds me of… before.”

You took the joint again, your hand trembling slightly. Just take a smaller drag this time. You can do this. You inhaled cautiously, trying not to repeat your earlier mistake. The smoke still stung, but at least you didn’t feel like your lungs were going to implode this time.

As you exhaled, you nodded. “Yeah, Dostoevsky’s pretty deep. I’ve read a bit of Crime and Punishment myself. Really makes you think, y’know?”

Nyon gave you a slow, thoughtful nod. “Yes. About… human природа. About what people can... do”

You nodded along, feeling a little more confident now that you weren’t immediately dying from the smoke. “Exactly. It’s like, we all have this darkness inside of us, but it’s about whether we give into it or not.”

There was a long pause as Nyon stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to figure you out. Finally, he said, “You think too much.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

Was that an insult?

Before you could dwell on it, the door suddenly swung open with a loud thud, and in stomped Nyen. His eyes immediately narrowed as he took in the scene—the two of you sitting there, joint in hand, clearly stoned out of your minds.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Nyen demanded, his voice sharp and annoyed.

Nyon, completely unbothered, simply took the joint back from you and took another slow drag. “Relaxing,” he said, his tone as neutral as ever.

Nyen rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at you both. “You’re such an idiot” he muttered, his eyes flicking to you. “And you—why are you even here?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your brain was moving at about half-speed. “Uh… I dunno. Just… hanging out?” you offered weakly, your voice coming out more like a question than a statement.

Nyen scoffed. “Hanging out. Right.” He gave you a long, disdainful look before turning to Nyon. “You really picked a winner this time, huh?”

Nyon didn’t respond, but there was a slight twitch of irritation in his usually placid expression. He blew out a cloud of smoke, completely unbothered by Nyen’s attitude.

You, on the other hand, were starting to feel the effects of the weed hitting you harder. The room felt slightly tilted, and your thoughts were starting to spiral in slow-motion. What is happening right now? Why is Nyen so mad? And why did I think smoking with Nyon was a good idea?

“Whatever,” Nyen muttered, clearly unimpressed. He walked over to the bed and flopped down on it dramatically, his back to the both of you. “Just don’t set the place on fire, you idiots.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Nyon, who was still as calm as ever, then back at Nyen. The whole situation was so absurd, you had to bite back a laugh.

This is the weirdest day of my life.

“Sooooo,” you said, trying to break the awkward tension, “Nyen, what do you usually do for fun around here?”

Nyen didn’t bother to turn around. “None of your business,” he said flatly, his tone dripping with annoyance.

You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “O-okay then!”

Well, this is going great.

You turned back to Nyon, who was still completely unfazed by the whole situation. He offered you the joint again, and despite your better judgment, you took it, if only to give yourself something to do besides sitting there in awkward silence.

After another shaky drag, you exhaled and tried to salvage the conversation. “So, uh, Nyon,” you started, “do you and Nyen hang out a lot? Like, do you guys do stuff together?”

Nyon gave a small shrug. “Sometimes. Nyen… is different.”

Different how? you wondered, but you didn’t dare ask.

Nyen, still lying on the bed, snorted. “Yeah, we’re real best buds,” he said sarcastically, not bothering to lift his head. “Can’t you tell?” He emphasised the last sentence as if you were to dumb to understand.

You blinked back at the biting tone. “Right…”

Okay, this is officially the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever been in.

Deciding that maybe it was time to switch gears, you cleared your throat awkwardly. “So, uh, about me—” you started, trying to fill the silence with something, anything.

Nyon perked up slightly, tilting his head in your direction. “You?”

You nodded, trying to gather your thoughts through the haze of the weed. “Yeah, uh… I mean, I don’t have any cool talents like bomb-making or reading Dostoevsky, but, y’know, I like... stuff?”

Nyon nodded thoughtfully, as if your vague answer was the most profound thing he’d ever heard.

Nyen, on the other hand, groaned from the bed. “Oh, please.”

You flushed, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “What? I do stuff.”

Nyen finally lifted his head, giving you a pointed look. “Like what?”

“Uh…” You scrambled for an answer. “Like… watching TV?” you said awkwardly.

Nyen stared at you, his unimpressed gaze boring into your soul. He sat up slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and gave you a deadpan look. "Watching TV. Wow, how fascinating. Truly a talent for the ages."

You cringed, feeling the burn of his sarcasm. The joint was still in your hand, forgotten, as the awkward tension in the room thickened like the smoke hanging in the air.

Nyon, still sitting calmly beside you, blinked slowly as he listened to the exchange. “TV can.. make relax too” he offered quietly, his voice as soft and chill as ever.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not be around while the two of you waste your brain cells,” Nyen muttered.

He swung his legs over the side of his top brunk and stood up, towering over you. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, and you could tell from his posture that he was growing increasingly annoyed.

He crossed his arms and glared. “Why are you still here, anyway? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Your mind, still fogged from the weed, scrambled to come up with a response. Why am I still here? You glanced at Nyon, hoping for some kind of rescue, but he merely shrugged. He seemed indifferent to Nyen’s rising irritation, his usual calm and spaced-out demeanor unchanged.

“Well, uh,” you started, your voice unsure. “We were just… hanging out, I guess?”

Nyen snorted, his face curling into a scowl. “Yeah, I can see that. But you’re not needed here. Nyon’s got better things to do than hang out with some random tagalong who thinks watching TV is a personality trait.”

Ouch.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Nyen’s words stung, especially in your slightly hazy state. The capital letters in your mind were back.

WHY IS HE BEING SUCH A HATER?

Before you could figure out what to say, Nyen crossed the small distance between you and the door in three long strides. He grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door open, gesturing out of the room with a sharp, impatient motion.

“Out,” he ordered, not even bothering to look at you. “Go waste time somewhere else.”

You blinked at him, your brain trying to catch up. “W-wait, are you kicking me out?”

Nyen shot you an exasperated glare. “Yes, genius. You’ve overstayed your welcome. Get lost.”

For a moment, you considered arguing, but honestly, Nyen’s intense glare and the whole weird vibe in the room made you second-guess that plan. You stood up slowly, your limbs feeling a little wobbly from both the weed and the sudden awkwardness.

Nyon didn’t move from his spot, merely watching the scene unfold with his usual calm expression. He didn’t seem to care one way or another about you leaving or staying, which, in a way, made you feel even worse. You were just… there. And apparently, you didn’t belong.

With a defeated sigh, you headed toward the door, glancing once more at Nyon, who gave you a small, almost apologetic nod. Nyen, on the other hand, was glaring at you the whole time, his expression practically daring you to say something.

But you didn’t. You just stepped out into the hallway, and as soon as you did, Nyen slammed the door behind you.

You stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion as the sound of the door echoed in the quiet hallway. The events of the last few minutes felt surreal, and your brain was still processing what had just happened.

Did I really just get kicked out for watching TV and getting high?

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog. Maybe hanging out with Nyon wasn’t such a great idea after all.

With another sigh, you turned and started walking down the hallway, leaving the weird, smoky room behind. Maybe next time, you’d think twice before getting involved with whatever bizarre shenanigans Nyon was up to.

And as you trudged back to your own room, one thought echoed in your mind, louder than the rest:

I’M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.

[blorger]

I just read a hot take vis à vis the Hermione vs Marietta situation that I seriously disagree with but i didn't want to start shit in someone else's reblogs because, at the end of the day, a difference in opinions on a pair of fictional characters in a deeply flawed book series is not exactly something worth being a dick to literal strangers about. Also, their interpretation is just as valid as mine.

That said, here are my Thoughts:

Generally, the prevailing fandom opinions on Hermione's cursing of Marietta in book five are diametrically opposed: some people use it to highlight Hermione's ruthlessness and occasional cruelty (and how it's often excused by the narrative) whereas other people view Marietta to be completely at fault (there's a war going on and she's behaving cowardly). What I see, however, is the clash of two very different realities that have been incongruously coexisting during OotP.

A major theme of OotP is the magical world's unwillingness to acknowledge the fact that Voldemort is back. Most of the students at Hogwarts either don't believe he's back or see this as an abstract problem, something for the adults to worry about. Even the DA is not actually preparing to be an army; they become one at the very end of the book by pure happenstance, when Neville, Luna and Ginny join the golden trio at the dept. of mysteries.

Hermione, by virtue of being near Harry since book 1, is aware of the reality of the situation but someone like Marietta isn't so she's worried about the now, the present implications regarding her family. There's this great quote from Maya's If You've a Ready Mind that's stuck with me for years and explains this perfectly:

(for context: here Ravenclaw! Draco is challenging his friend Hermione on her actions and, by doing so, makes her realise that Marietta did what she did because she didn't view the situation with the same gravity as Hermione)

To Hermione it's already a war but to Marietta its' still just school: Marietta is just a child who's worried about her mother's job and, in weighing that against a banned afterschool activity, decides to give priority to what she sees as the most pressing and real problem. The fact that her worldview and Hermione's differ so starkly is by design: by the end of the book these two realities will have finally clashed to reveal the truth of the wizarding world's situation (they're on the precipice of a war and all that jazz).

Because JKR is JKR, we are meant to be on Hermione's side and admire her clever handling of Marietta the non-believer; the fact that she did not take the DA's secrecy with the same gravitas as our heroes is treated as a moral failing rather than a human mistake.

I find the whole subplot about the radicalisation of literal children to be distasteful; I hate how the books present the second wizarding war as something that NEEDS to be fought by children and how Dumbledore himself encourages it (see: his garbage treatment of Harry, which I'll never get over). I hate it even more when, during actual wartime, most of the resistance ends up falling on their shoulders and, in order for that to happen, the majority of adults end up behaving ineffectually (the Order) or disappointingly (Lupin).

JKR is not doing this to give some realism to the story (because children are forced to grow up too fast in wars), she's doing it because her main characters are teenagers and their heroism needs to make sense in the context of the narrative. JKR artificially created a situation that can only be solved by children and in order for that to happen said children had to be let down by all the adults in their lives.

In conclusion: I hate DH and its depiction of the wizarding war, I hate that Marietta's betrayal is depicted with the same gravitas as a wartime defection and also I hate JKR's bullshit black and white worldview.

Rant over

[pinkanonwrites]

Stargazers, New and Old

Another Vash fic! Forgive me, TWST Fans, I’m so deep in the paint on this guy it isn’t even funny.

Vash the Stampede/Reader, +3,000 Words, GN!Reader, Mutual Pining, Cuddling, Stargazing

Through your shared time as drifters, you and Vash had spent plenty of time together beneath the stars.

Granted, it was usually from the roof of whatever cheap hotel the two of you were staying at for the night, tearing into snacks and idly chatting about whatever Vash had or hadn’t accidentally managed to blow up that day. There’d even be a celebration sometimes, if things went right! Townsfolk would spill into the street, drinking and dancing and celebrating another one of Vash’s many perfectly timed victories as they piled your table high with heaped praise and overflowing mugs of alcohol. As hectic as they could end up being, you often got plenty of enjoyment out of the fuss, watching Vash stumble around sheepish and drunk as his praises were sung up to the starry evening sky.

But if you honestly had to choose? You’d say you enjoyed nights like these much better.

Sometimes Gunsmoke’s two suns would sink deep into the horizon and the two of you would find yourselves between towns, lost to the sands of the evening desert. Not too often, really. Usually Vash was quick to make sure you had at least the basic amenities readily nearby: food, running water, a creaky old motel mattress that was only barely better than sleeping on the floor. He was fine going without them for an evening or two, but he hated to put you out in any way. But sometimes you’d get stopped up along the way, or have to stealth around a bandit camp, or get distracted watching wild Thomases scamper up and down the sandy hillsides, and end up somewhere in the empty desert, iles from the nearest town.

Luckily both of you were prepared for this kind of thing at this point, Vash even proudly showing off some of his little “survival trinkets” he’d scooped up before meeting you, like a miniature campfire set that packed away into a pocket-sized tin.

“Ta-da!” And that was where the two of you found yourselves now, tucked around the fire at the base of a large dune, Vash presenting you with a metal camping mug full of instant noodles with all the pride and bravado of a chef presenting a five-course meal. “Your majesty, may I present…. Dinner!”

"Why thank you, chef." You took the mug with both hands, letting the warm metal soothe the calluses on your palms. As Vash prepared himself a mug you cracked him a sly smile. "Or are you more my court jester?"

"What, was 'knight in shining armor' already taken?" He chuckled, cupping his own mug in his gloved palms and sipping carefully. "YEOWCH! Still pretty hot! Be careful, m'kay?"

"I will." You blew on your own cup of broth before sipping it. Shuffling over a bit, you let yourself lean heavily into Vash’s side, leeching his excess body heat. A single glance up showed the rosy-red blush that began to creep across his face at the contact, but you chose not to comment on it. “It’s really amazing how cold the desert can get during the night.”

“It’s actually because there’s no humidity. Without the water in the air to hold the heat, it cools off a lot faster.” Vash took another slow slurp of his noodles, staring out over the vast landscape beyond your tiny fire. “Deathly hot in the daytime, dangerously cold in the night… It’s a really formidable place.” A familiar, distant expression overtook Vash’s face at that. He did his best to hide it from you but you’d long since caught on to it, those moments where his walls faltered and you could damn near watch in real time as the melancholy of a man who had seen far too much began to creep in along the edges.

“And yet, here we are.” You simply responded, gesturing to the small campfire with your mug before holding it up to Vash. You never really felt like you could offer him much in these moments, simple placations and apologies feeling far too hollow. But at the very least, you could offer this. “Cheers to surviving? Despite everything?”

He chuckled, low, soft, and tired, bringing his cup up to yours to clink the metal rims together. “Despite everything.”

You let your head thump gently against Vash’s shoulder, the two of you absorbing the cool silence of the desert night. There was little need for words between sips of noodles and broth; the silence with Vash never crept into uncomfortable. As the fire and your supper dwindled in unison the sky inched ever further towards utter blackness. With no towns within a good dozen or so iles in any direction the deep velveteen shades of space were even more apparent than usual, long strips of indigo and blue speckled with pinpoints of distant light. 

“All done?” Vash finally spoke up, taking your empty mug from your outstretched hand. “I’ll take care of these if you want to get the sleeping bags ready.”

“Sure.” 

The first few times you had slept out beneath the stars, you were adamant about having your sleeping bag a reasonable distance away from Vash’s. ‘Personal space,’ you insisted, even as he joked that you’d be too wooed by his natural charms if you slept any closer. But over time you just couldn’t help yourself. Getting to know Vash, to really know him, seemed to go hand in hand with your own sleeping bag drifting ever so slightly closer and closer to his with each passing night. Now you barely even blinked as you rolled the two of them out, side by side.

With a belly full of warm food and the promise of a cozy place to sleep ahead, the exhaustion seemed to wash over you in a sudden, leaden wave. You barely had the energy to kick your shoes off, shuffling yourself awkwardly into the bag until it was pulled nearly up to your chin. When Vash turned back around from putting your mugs away he barked out a short, surprised laugh.

“Comfy in there?”

You nodded, biting back a yawn as your eyelids fluttered. You watched through bleary lashes as Vash put the cap over the top of the pocket bonfire, snuffing the flame with a soft hiss and plunging his silhouette into moonlight. You could catch the vague shimmer off of his glasses lenses, the glint on the pauldron of his prosthetic arm, and the barest hint of a soft smile by the light of the five moons.

“I’ll finish cleaning up, why don’t you get some sleep?”

You nodded again, humming softly as you let your eyes slip fully shut and melted into the darkness behind your eyelids. “Mhm… Thank you, Vash.”

You swore that as the comfortable fuzz of sleep crept further into the edges of your mind, you felt a warm, metallic hand pat you gently atop your head.

And then, blackness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You normally slept incredibly well with Vash by your side, safe in the knowledge that whatever may happen, he’d be there to protect you.

Which is why it came as a bit of a shock to you when you jerked suddenly awake, the fog of some already-fading nightmare seeping away from your consciousness. Even as you struggled to recall it the details continued to slip away, flashes of smoke and gunmetal and blond hair streaked with clumped, drying blood all that remained on the peripheries of your subconscious. It left you as most nightmares do, feeling hollow and distinctly paranoid.

The chill in the air certainly didn’t help either. Even within the plush confines of your sleeping bag you could feel the cold cutting through, leaving your entire body tense and shivery, muscles aching. You certainly wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

But just as you saw fit to roll over and curse your bad luck, you noticed Vash. He was sat upright, leaning back on the heels of his palms, sleeping bag pooled around his waist as he tipped his head up towards the night sky. His face was lit in profile by cool, white moonlight, and without his familiar tinted lenses on you could see the reflection of a thousand little stars in his aqua-colored eyes. A look of incredible serenity was upon his face. You almost hated to disturb it.

But at some point he must have felt your eyes trained upon him, because he turned his attention to you, and that distant, moony gaze seemed to focus into something soft and concerned.

“What are you still doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You sat up and immediately regretted it, the frosty wind cutting straight through your thin, linen shirt. “Aren’t we getting up early tomorrow to beat the heat?”

“Yeah… Guess I just couldn’t sleep, is all.”

“Me neither.”

You fell silent again, following Vash’s gaze as it trailed back up towards the marbled sky. Shivering, you tucked your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them as your eyes flit back and forth across those tiny, oh so distant specks of light. It was hard to even imagine that each one was just like one of your two suns, even harder to imagine that somewhere out there is where humans originally came from. Was Earth somewhere in this milky spiral of stars? Could you find it, one day, if you really looked hard enough? Or was it already too far gone, too distant or dim or lost to the hubris of the people who came long before you? You supposed you’d never really know for sure.

“Do you know any constellations?”

You startled a bit when Vash broke the silence, and just barely in the moonlight you could see him put up his hands as a sort of ‘Sorry!’ gesture. He’d had time to adjust to the dark, so maybe he could see you better than you could see him. 

“Not really.” You replied. “I know what some of them are called but I could never figure out how you were supposed to find them.”

“Want me to show you? It’s really not that hard, if you know what to look for.”

You nodded, scooting your sleeping bag as close to Vash as you could get. He wrapped his right arm around you and rested his chin on your shoulder, reaching up towards the sky with his prosthetic. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, thrumming like an old yet sturdy machine. He outstretched a single finger, a thin glow of blue-green energy pulsing beneath the metal as he pointed.

“See that bright one, right there?” His voice was barely above a murmur, hesitant to break the silence of the vast desert. “Follow my arm, it’s gonna be just at the tip of my finger.”

“I…Think so? Is it just to the left of that kinda red one?”

“There you go! That’s the main point of Luridae, the Scorpion. It’s supposed to be the tip of the tail. If you draw a line to the one right below it, then the one below that, you follow the trail and make like, an upside-down hook shape. Seven stars.”

“But how is that supposed to be a scorpion?”

“You’ve gotta use your imagination!” He laughed at your furrowed brow, moving his hand a bit further to the right and up. “If you can find Luridae you can find Sula, the Spear. That’s an easy one, it’s those five stars in a straight line, see? It points right towards the tail.”

You squinted, trying your best to follow Vash’s instructions. Sure enough, just up and to the right of that bright star was a line of five, neat in a row like someone had sketched them up there.

“I see it! It’s right there, right?” You brought your arm up right next to Vash’s, sides of your arms touching all the way up to your palms as you traced the line in the sky with your fingertip. Even the metal of his prosthetic was unnaturally warm, just enough to be comfortable, like it was still holding its heat from the evening sun.

“Yeah, you got it!” His cheek was nearly pressed to yours, and you could feel him smile at your success. The excitement was infectious, leaving you feeling floaty and light despite your exhaustion. “Wanna try a few more?”

“Sure! What about up here?” You tipped your head all the way back, staring straight up into the night sky, only to wince at the sharp twang of pain you felt in the back of your neck. “Ow.”

“You okay?” Vash’s face filled your vision, expression soft with concern. You just shrugged, rolling your shoulder and pressing your fingertips into the tense muscle.

“I’m fine, just tweaked my neck a little. The cold just makes all my muscles kind of achey." 

Vash's hand rested on the side of your arm, almost hot to the touch against your chilled skin. How could he possibly run so warm? You wanted to melt into nothing more than a little ball curled up in the palm of his hand, dozing in the pleasant warmth it provided. Meanwhile his eyebrows had flown up his forehead, blinking incredulously at you.

"You're freezing! Why didn't you say anything?" 

"I dunno! I didn't wanna bother you? Besides, I didn't notice until I woke up, anyway!"

He frowned at you, unconsciously jutting out his lower lip in an adorable pout that made your heart stammer in your chest. He made a lot of faces like this, smug little smiles after a trick shot or delighted beaming grins over dinner, even those soft, bittersweet little expressions he'd shoot your way when he thought you weren't looking; faces that made you want to just throw caution to the wind and lean in and kiss him until you both ran hot and breathless.

But you couldn't. Vash liked to joke about how fearless you were, unafraid of tailing after the Humanoid Typhoon through each town and city he blew through, but you weren't that brave. Not enough to risk the possible rejection of the person you cherished most in the world, even if he was under the impression he was doing it for your benefit. No, you were nowhere near that brave. Not yet.

"Maybe you'll just have to share with me then, if you want to keep warm!~"

"Can I?"

You both stiffened, neither of you expecting your response to actually come out of your mouth. Vash was clearly trying to tease you, you could see that now by the wide eyes and startled red fluster on his cheeks, but you'd been so deep in your own thoughts you hadn't even registered it properly until the words were already out of your mouth. You clammed up quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot and prickly as you cupped your hands over it and turned jerkily away from him.

"Ah! Sorry, I didn't- I wasn't really thinking I was just- You know I should have known you were just joking, so… so let's just go back to sleep. Sorry. This is weird… sorry."

You'd definitely said sorry way too many times. And he'd definitely noticed. But maybe he'd actually cut you some slack for once and not point out how effectively you'd just humiliated yourself in front of him. Or maybe you could just roll yourself up in your sleeping bag like a pill bug and in the morning you'd forget this entire exchange even happened.

"...Do you really want to?" He mumbled, warm fingertips resting on your upper arm again and sending a shiver down the length of your spine. He didn't pull away even when you flinched at the contact, voice staying hesitant, small, almost like he was trying to soothe a skittish animal. "I don't want you to freeze or anything. I really don't mind."

"It's not weird?" You'd almost mustered up the courage to ask 'I didn't make things weird?' but you chickened out at the last moment catching a glimpse of Vash's soft expression when peering at him from the corner of your eye.

"No, it's totally fine! I run kind of hot anyway. I can be your heated blanket." Seating himself all the way upright, Vash opened his arms to you, and it took everything you had not to dive into them the second the gesture was offered. 

Trying not to look as eager as you were, you slipped carefully out of your own sleeping bag, shuddering as you were buffeted by the evening air. It was a bit of an awkward clamber, one you tried desperately not to think too hard about as you burrowed your way in right next to Vash. He was a big guy, and the sleeping bag was barely big enough for him to begin with, so once you got yourself situated you found that you were basically snug up against him from your ankles all the way up to your neck. And oh, was it everything you'd imagined to be and more. You were curled up into his right side; he'd tucked you up in such a way that your head was resting right on his shoulder with his arm slung around you, keeping you close. The thin fabric of your pajamas did nothing to quell the heat that rolled off of Vash's body and seeped into your own. It was a familiar, achingly safe kind of warmth, like falling asleep in an afternoon sunbeam coming through the window and landing across a soft mattress. It felt right. It felt like home.

"Comfy?" His voice was so soft a murmur you could barely make it out, and you nodded for fear of any words being let out giving away your true feelings on the situation. How were you ever supposed to sleep on your own again, knowing that this bliss was just within arms reach? "That's good. Hey, try looking up now?"

You blinked up at the night sky, an endless expanse of stars and moons stretched over your heads. His free arm rose again, fingertip tracing an abstract, polygonal form against the starry backdrop.

"Rivus Minor, the Little River. You can follow it across the sky, just like this. Follow my hand, okay?"

"Yeah." You whispered, for you didn't think you had the strength nor the courage to speak any louder. You'd follow his hand as it traced the stars. You'd follow him to the driest, most desperate towns, the true wastelands. You'd follow him through hell and back out again, to the most barren edges of No Man's Land and back, a thousand times over. Even if he tried to leave you behind, for your protection he'd say, for your safety, you wouldn't be able to help but follow. You'd follow him through blood and gun-smoke and tears and keep following beyond. As long as Vash was there, you couldn't help but be there too.

"Okay. I'll follow you."

[emmg]

I’ve never played Dragon Age before but I’m being won over by all the thirst posting lmao, what’s the best DA game to start with? Idk if there’s like an overarching narrative or if they’re self contained plots or whatever.

Omg I somehow missed this which is unacceptable given how much I love ya lol

YEEEES, WELCOME TO THE DRAGON AGE SICKO SIDE, MWHAHAHA

Okay, so if you're not totally allergic to old graphics I highly recommend starting with Dragon Age: Origins. It's an absolute masterpiece in storytelling, but also wildly politically, errr, incorrect lmfao. And with mods it looks amazing

You get to have a dog who can read. I'm not making this up. He understands human speech perfectly and only uses it to beg for treats. You can also ask him if he has something for you (like Scratch in bg3) and when he doesn't, the game makes you want to kill yourself because the camera pans down into the most SHAME ON YOU angle on him I've ever seen and he looks defeated. It's amazing lol

Your companions in Origins are straight up insane. A huge warrior who steals cookies from a child and calls him fat. A living construct who was once a dwarf but there was a situation and she spent 30 years inert being shat on by pigeons and now she's on a personal quest to brutally murder all of them.

Did I mention there's a bisexual assassin elf who spends most of the game complimenting the group's grandma's boobs? I’m not sure it’s a "good" plot point, but it sure is a plot point.

You get to be rescued from prison by any of your companions. If the dwarf and elf go, they lie that they are brothers and it somehow works. Or the companions can end up naked. It’s insane, it’s absolutely fucking insane

Or you can start with DA 2 and experience the joy that is Purple Hawke (aka choosing the sarcastic dialogue option.) I present to you some of the classic lines:

"So I should be looking out for a bunch of boneless women flopping through the street?"

"Let's be more specific. I don't do anything that involves children or animals."

"You should pay someone else. Like me. I like being paid."

"I'd like to know who this "Corypheus" is. With a name like that, he's bound to go "mwa-ha-ha" at some point. I just know it."

In DA 2, you get to run around for YEARS (yeah actual years) with your found family that sort of hates each other, everyone, or almost, is bisexual, someone is possessed, and everyone is horny.

Inquisition is a great starting point, though, if you don't want to go too far back. It’s friendly to new players and very patient with your questions about "What is a dragon?" and "Why does everyone hate elves?" It rehashes everything you need to know so you’re not like, "Wait, what’s a Blight again?" Plus, it directly ties into the new game, Veilguard, which is even friendlier since 10 years passed between the two games and it has no choice but to be.

But really, I feel like all of them are good are introducing/rehashing the lore

Also if you want to experience the most life-devastating romance with the elven embodiment of a poetic egg, Inquisition and Veilguard got you covered. @thessaralka wrote many treatises on it lmfao

Pick up the games ok pls ty byyye

[yurislotusgarden]

Dazai and Chuuya separated with prompt 11*

ʚїɞ Separate! Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1975

ʚїɞ The event

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, is not specified

ʚїɞ Hope you two won't mind me merging these two asks <3

ʚїɞ Prompt 11: "I never really celebrated Christmas before"

ʚїɞ This took way too long ;-; It's also the longest thing I have written I think, we're also gonna ignore that Christmas in Japan is like valentines for the sake of this post

ཐིཋྀ He doesn't know whether telling you he never really celebrated Christmas was a good idea or not

ཐིཋྀ On one side, he doesn't mind the fact that he did not since he never really saw anything special about it, but on another hand, you're excited about it and he doesn't wanna make you sad by saying he won't celebrate.

ཐིཋྀ Well, he did make you kind of sad when he told you he never really celebrated it, and that the closest he has been to that were the times when he and Chuuya would give each other gifts under a small Christmas tree that wasn't bigger only because they didn't feel like taking it out of Chuuya's apartment in a month.

ཐིཋྀ You managed to get Fukuzawa to make the annual Christmas party the agency has every year a non-skippable event, so Dazai had to come to it this year (The agency has a Christmas party every year but it's more of a ‘you come if you want’, and Dazai didn't bother showing up on any social event that wasn't mandatory)

---------------------

Dazai didn't know what to think when he got told that he had to come to the Christmas party this year.

”Alright guys, see ya next week!”

“What do you mean? We're seeing each other on Saturday.”

“Huh? Kunikida-kun, you know I won't be at the party as per usual so-”

“Yes, you will be there this year.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“Don't think you won, it's mandatory this year, so yes, I will see you on Saturday, Dazai.”

“HUH?!”

He was happy that he at least didn't need to really improvise with the present. Every year there's a lottery on who buys who a present, Dazai was in it every year even if he wasn't at the parties. The presents were mandatory unlike the party, you just needed to leave the present under the tree so it could be given to the person you got, Dazai always found his present in front of his door on that day he will deny the smile he gets at that for the rest of his life.

He got Ranpo this year, and as classic as that was, sweets were the best present for that guy's sweet tooth, and he knew the shorter detective wouldn't complain. What he didn’t know was why Fukuzawa made the social event a must-attend this year. At the past parties, he was perfectly fine not to show up as long as he left the present before the gathering, which he did every year, so why was this year any different?

He got to the agency building shortly after and walked up the stairs, wanting to get the whole socializing thing over with for the day already. He normally wouldn’t mind being at the party that much, but it was a problem this year since it meant he couldn’t be spending the time with you until he was let out. He tried to get Fukuzawa to agree to let you come since you don’t work at the agency and the whole event is for the workers (and otherwise you're gonna be alone until he comes back), but surprisingly for the brunette, the older man didn’t agree to it as the younger one expected, he did agree to let Dazai leave earlier than the rest though.

Naturally, he was the last person to arrive.

“You sorry-waste of good bandages! Where the hell have you been?!”

“Oh? I was just spending my time with my sweet s/o! Something you don’t have at the moment, ku-ni-ki-da-kun~”

“That’s it! You’re going out the window!”

“Already?!”

“Kunikida-san no!”

Atsushi tried to save him and for once succeeded, he’s gotta buy the younger boy some tea on rice soon with his partner's money but who’s to say that?

When he first opened the door to the office, everything looked the same as it did every other year for the most part, and as expected, that’s why he absolutely did not expect the door to the agency to open half an hour into the party. He knew that everyone who was meant to be there was present already, from the main agency members to clerks who didn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with.

So he couldn’t exactly comprehend what was happening when his dear Belladonna appeared at the agency’s entrance.

“Bella! What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining at seeing your pretty face but I got told you can’t come.”

“And you believed that Fukuzawa-san wouldn’t let me come?”

“...Now that you mention it… it was dumb of me to think that Boss wouldn’t let you come here...”

“At least the surprise was a success.”

“What?!”

That’s when he realized everything. The party being mandatory? You got Fukuzawa to do that. The fact that he couldn’t stay home even tho he has a significant other? Your fault. The party having more decorations done than in other years? You, once again.

“You’re cruel, bella.”

“Why?”

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to spend the day with you :(“

“Oh, love, I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re gonna have to make up for it.”

“Is getting you 5 presents not enough?”

“Not at all! I’m demanding you to add cuddles and kisses to the present bundle, darlin’.”

Why were you laughing when he was serious!? He wanted his daily kisses and the whole affection package! The brunette also had to figure out why you bought five presents for him instead of one, but that’s for later.

“Hey, lovebirds! It’s time to open the presents!”

“Yeah! Ranpo-san is, quite literally, being physically restrained from opening his present…”

On second thought, maybe he actually had missed out on some fun opportunities to tease his friends by not attending the previous parties.

---------------------

His question on whether telling you about everything was a good idea or not? Let's just say he got his answer to his questions after that day ;)

ཐིཋྀ He didn't realize that telling you about how he never celebrated not only because of his past before the sheep, then the whole sheep organization where they just had no way of celebrating it in the slums with their situation, so the only times he did were those few with Dazai under a small Christmas tree, would make you sad😭

ཐིཋྀ Of course, there was the Christmas party that the Port Mafia throws a few days before Christmas every year, but it isn’t really celebrating it in Chuuya’s eyes.

ཐིཋྀ Since Dazai left the only Christmas thing he did (besides the PM party) was exchange presents with Kouyou and the Akutagawa’s with a small dinner at someone’s place, even though none of them decorated their place for that.

ཐིཋྀ He thought it’s gonna stay at that, the only difference being that you joined them this year… turned out he was wrong. Very wrong.

---------------------

His place was decorated all over once December came (you did way more than you normally do for Christmas just to make his place colorful), but he didn't regret saying yes when you asked if you could do that, because for once his home gave the vibes of Christmas.

Christmas lights, an actual Christmas tree, not like the one he had till 18, small decorations around the house like some garden dwarfs or gnomes that had Christmas outfits, table or dresser decorations (was that a miniature reindeer on the table in front of the TV?) or other small decorations. It brought a smile to the ginger’s face every time he came home for the whole month. 

His plans went downhill when he asked others about the annual dinner. Kouyou was being sent to Europe for a few days, to maybe even 2 weeks, and the Akutagawa siblings had things to do as well. Gin has been assigned multiple missions close to each other and in different cities, making it so she wouldn't be able to be at home for the entirety of Christmas, while Ryuunosuke had not only missions but his training intensified for some reason. Chuuya was sure that something happened to Mori lately and now he’s taking it out on his subordinates.

That’s exactly why he didn’t expect to come back home just to see the trio he always spends Christmas with at his house. All three of them, Kouyou, Ryuu, and Gin told him that they were assigned missions on Christmas and unfortunately wouldn't be able to have dinner that day, that the nearest date they could, would be a few days after Christmas. Yet, they were at his house, the siblings sitting at his kitchen island-

“Do you think that my idea was good?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ryuu I’m asking for an actual answer.”

“And I’m answering honestly.”

-while his sister figure and his beloved s/o were making goddamn cookies he’s ignoring they were his favourites.

“I’m really not sure about that last ingredient, dear.”

“Trust me Kouyou-san, I always add it.”

“And it tastes good?”

“You always compliment my cookies, no?”

“Very well, I shall allow my worries to fade away.”

“What’s with the sudden Shakespearean wording?”

“I just felt like it.”

As if he wasn’t surprised enough, there were more people. Tachihara whom he wasn’t the closest with, only exchanged some words here and there, could be seen trying to eat one of the cookies fresh out of the oven (Chuuya tried not to laugh when he let out a silent scream due to his tongue being burnt).

“Are you alright?”

“No, it hurts :(“

“You kill people and you want to cry over a slightly burnt tongue?”

“Shut up Gin, it really hurts!”

He has absolutely no idea how you got Elise in here without Mori in the house he was like 95% sure the older man was hiding somewhere in a closet.

“What is it, Elise?”

“I was about to steal a cookie but then I saw Tachihara and decided I won’t.”

“Good decision.”

He could see Hirotsu making tea on the side, the man had been at one of the trio’s dinners before so the old man wasn’t a big surprise-

“May I ask if you guys have any green tea?”

“Yeah, we have some in the cabinet on the far left, middle shelf.” “Thank you- Oh it’s my favorite brand of green tea.”

-And WAS THAT VERLAINE?! He was so confused about how you got the guy out of the PM basement

“Is the tea that good if it’s your favorite?”

“Yes, I have tried many brands yet none of them have come even close to beating this one.” “Hmm… could you make me one cup of it? I would like to try it.” “Of course, no problem.”

“CHUUYA!”

And then he was noticed.

He really didn’t mind the surprise as much as the others thought, it was a nice one. 

–

“We’re sorry for lying Chuuya-san!”

“I was forced into it.”

“No, you were not.”

“I really don’t mind, you two.”

–

“I hope the cookies came out well, [Name] had let me do most of the baking so I’m hoping that I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It was your first time baking this recipe, it’s normal to do something wrong, Ane-san.”

–

“How’s the tongue?”

“You saw that?!”

“Yeah… So?”

“... It still hurts.”

–

“What are you doing here, midget?”

“I made a deal with [Name]. They let me be here with all of you and in exchange I get Rintaro to give you a day off.”

“Oh.”

He was already making plans in his head for that.

–

“You like green tea?”

“Yes, I do, Hirotsu-san”

“We shall have tea-drinking meetings.”

“I already have them with Ane-san.”

“I don’t care, Chuuya-san”

–

“Didn’t know you knew that world outside of the basement existed.”

“Shut, you little shit.”

–

“Chuu, you’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not!”

And yes, he’s gonna deny the smile that appeared on his face forever.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

Masterlist

@sukiischaotic

[portaltothevoid]

you're losing me part vii -- copia x reader, ex!terzo x reader

warnings: overhearing gossip, angst, more angst, emotional whiplash, manhandling, brief violence, self-translated italian

taglist: @bitchywitchygardener @copias-juicebox @da-rulah @deetz-ghuleh @fishwithtitz (shout out to hannah for being a massive help with my writer's block!) @ivycasket @water-ghoulette @zombiesnips-blog

word count: 7.1k

Sunlight escaped from the edges of the curtains. Somehow you had managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when your tears began to dry. You tried to jam your eyes shut again, willing yourself to sleep once more, but of course, once you were awake, your mind wouldn’t stop. Then your grumbling stomach started its own protest. 

Quietly, you slipped out of bed to make yourself semi-presentable before you headed down to the cafeteria to get some semblance of a breakfast. It was still early, not yet 7:30, so you’d hope that it would be relatively quiet. Even still, your plan was to just keep your head down, grab your food, and head back. Naturally, this would have been a fool proof plan, except for that fact you had a ghoul flanking you the entire time. 

You let out a heavy breath through your nose, turning around to face the ghoul in the hallway outside of the cafeteria. “Would you mind just… waiting here while I grab food? I’m gonna eat it back in my room.”

“It’s just… I have orders to keep a close eye on you…” he said shyly.

“I mean, it’s a big open room. I’m sure you can see the whole time if you just wait by the doorway or something,” you grumbled.

“Okay, that could work,” the ghoul said very quietly. His shoulders slumped as he awkwardly leaned against the door frame. 

“Look… wait, I’m sorry, you’re new I think? I mean, you look familiar, but what should I call you?”

“Rain. They call me Rain.” He started to perk up at your willingness to take even this slight effort to get to know him.

“Okay. Look, Rain, this isn’t personal. I just… There's been a lot going on and I just don’t know how many people are going to be there. I don’t know what they’ve heard, because you know how fast word spreads around here. The less attention I draw the better and having a ghoul at my heels would probably turn some heads. As long as you can see me, you’re still following orders, right?” He happily nodded. “I’ll just be a minute.”

You took a deep breath before you went in. The room was sparse with people, but enough were scattered about for you to feel your anxiety start to bubble. You could feel every eye in the room on you, even if it was for the briefest of moments. Conversations hushed as you went by and then resumed with frantic whispers. 

Just as you planned, you made a beeline towards the growing line to get your food and get out. You had grabbed a to-go bag to fill, but your attention drifted to the conversation of the group of sisters in front of you. 

“You still haven’t told us why you decided to join us. You’re never up this early when you stay the night with him!” one girl prompted. Easily, you could have skirted around them, but curiosity (and being a glutton for punishment) got the better of you.

You could tell another rolled her eyes by the way her head tilted back slightly. “Ugh, because there was no point in staying! He kept waking me up, because he kept saying her name in his sleep. Over and over. So it got to the point I tried to wake him up, and you know, distract him, and I don’t know if he just wasn’t into it or what, but he, like… He couldn’t get it up.”

“What?!”

“Are you serious?” the third girl asked, dumbfounded.

“Why would I make something up like this about Papa!” she hissed.

You stood perfectly still. Not daring to make any movements to draw attention to yourself. It took every ounce of your self control to stay calm. This was par the course for Terzo, you knew this more than anyone. Clearly he was burying his issues in someone else. You didn’t let the tension rise up in your body until the girl went on to gossip about you.

“Like, I get it, she dumped him and he seemed a little sad about it last night, but I mean, he invited me over and seemed like he really wanted to not think about her. But he woke up, like, a completely different person.”

“Maybe she did a spell or something?”

“Good for her if she did! I would have done the same thing.”

“You would have waited ‘til after you lost count how many times he cheated on you?” Your ex’s groupie dryly laughed. “Come on. She would have done a spell or two ages ago.”

“Well, did you hear what Mary and Agatha saw the other day?” Two of the girls shook their heads. “She bolted out of his office looking crazed. Like she was possessed or something, which I thought was a myth? Anyway, her eyes were all black and she looked like she wanted to kill them.”

“Okay, but Agatha exaggerates everything. I don’t believe a word she says. They probably just had another fight or something stupid and she was just super pissed. Plus she left him for that awkward cardinal. Like, ew? Talk about a downgrade! Just because she fucked up doesn’t mean she needs to go and ruin it for the rest of us.”

Rain started shifting in your peripheral, inching closer along the room’s perimeter. He could sense your blood was starting to boil as you listened to what this one group of siblings was saying about, well, everything happening in your life at the moment. You could only imagine how fast word would spread and what it could turn into. Despite wanting to bash this girl’s head into the counter, you knew enough not to cause a scene. As they waited at the omelet station, you finally breezed past them, having had enough. You needed to get out of there before you acted on your simmering anger.

You threw two premade cups of fruit salad into the bag, a couple cinnamon rolls, and some prepared breakfast burritos. A loud gasp escaped one of the girl’s lips. You didn’t have to hear the whispers to know they were asking each other if it was really you in front of them and if you heard them. Shooting them an icy glare, they froze in their tracks. Feeling your heart rate increase, you could tell the darkness was starting to flow into your eyes. With a shake of your head to dispel your eyes from turning fully and a sigh of disgust, you made your leave. You hoped in vain that tiny little show would be enough to scare them into shutting up, but a part of you knew better. Maybe it was subtle enough that they didn’t notice.

Rain scurried behind you at your heels to keep up. “Are… are you okay?” Rain asked quietly. “Your Eminence?” he nervously added, attempting to appease you with the formality.

“I’m fine. I just need to get back to the room. And stay there. Probably for the rest of my life.”

“Were they mean to you? I knew you were upset, but I didn’t want to get too close and make it worse...”

“I’m just the center of this week’s hot gossip. No one knows what the hell is going on, so I get that they’re taking whatever they’re hearing and running with it, but to actually overhear it… It literally took all my strength to stay calm.” You let out an exasperated breath of air as your hand was on the doorknob of your safe haven.

“I think you did a fine job,” he said with a little pat on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to cheer you up.

“Well, thank you, Rain.”

Just before you went inside, he spoke up again, “Maybe next time… I can go for you. So you don’t have to deal with idiots.”

You laughed. “I will take you up on that. I’ll let you know if I need anything, okay?” He nodded as he resumed his watchful position outside your door.

Once inside, you took a seat at the countertop that divided the kitchen and living room area and set the bag in front of you. You rung your hands through your hair. Too lost in your own thoughts of the rumors being telephoned around the abbey, you jumped at the sound of Copia’s voice.

“Everything alright, amore?” he asked cautiously.

Without looking at him you just gave him a single thumbs-up with a monotone “Fan-fucking-tastic.” 

His eyes widened nervously at your sarcasm. He’d never seen you this constantly snappy, not unless there was something major you were avoiding dealing with. Cannoli squeaked, letting his human know he was ready for breakfast, which pulled Copia out of his frozen state.

Every movement felt like you were trudging through mud as you forced yourself to take the food out of the bag. You opened the fruit salad and picked away at it one piece at a time. 

“You went to get food?”

“Yeah. Shoulda just sent Rain.”

“Rain?”

“The ghoul on watch.”

“Oh… eh… what happened?”

“What do you think happened?” you barked with a dismissive wave of your hand. “These girls were talking shit. Terzo wouldn’t fuck one of them, because apparently he was too busy whining about me in his sleep. And the jury’s still out on what the hell they think is wrong with me. Am I possessed? Was I just really pissed off at Terzo? Only good thing is that no one trusts one of the sisters that saw me, so no one knows what’s going on. Not that that’s gonna stop everyone from talking about it.” 

Copia nodded thoughtfully as he nibbled on one of the cinnamon rolls. You let out a scoff before you continued, “We really make quite the pair now. The ‘awkward cardinal’ and the freak.” As you made air quotes around how the girl referred to him, you missed how the crease between his eyebrows deepened and he pressed his lips together. “I really don’t know how I can show my face anywhere around here again.”

He knew what you meant. He knew you were referring to the awakening, to all the crazy events that had happened to you, to all the shit the siblings already talked about him. There was a part of him, albeit a small part, that still felt the sting of your inclusion of him. Just because he had you now didn’t mean he always would. “It gets easier to ignore,” he mumbled.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be able to ignore all the shit they’ll be saying about me when they realize I’m turning into a half-demon and suddenly outrank a majority of the senior clergy. Yeah, that’ll be so easy to ignore. Especially when they start handing out the pitchforks.” He sighed, before attempting a better explanation, but you cut him off. “You don’t get it, Copia. You don’t know how close I was to literally bashing this girl’s head in. I had to fight it with every fiber of my being. It– it was barbaric.”

“No. It was infernal,” he simply stated. He noted how the shame took over you as you sunk back in the chair, how your shoulders drooped, how you stared at your hands in your lap, probably picking at a fingernail. Even still, your tone contradicted your demeanor. He saw right through the front you were attempting to put up. He couldn’t understand why you were being so standoffish about what you were going through. Sure, sometimes it took a bit of coaxing to get things out of you, but it was him you had always confided in. He couldn’t figure out how to get through to you, let alone help you, which caused his frustration to grow. “And you’re right,” he continued, his voice now sharp. “I don’t get it, because I don’t know anything about what’s happening to you. How can I when this is as much as I’ve been able to get out of you in days?”

Your eyes shot up to his as they turned to slits. “Oh, I am so sorry for not being an openbook as I’m trying to process everything that’s been happening to me. I’m sorry I was left completely in the dark by everyone. So, excuse me, for not being able to express everything immediately.”

“Amore, you’re missing the point–”

“No, I think you are.” 

Copia shook his head with an exasperated eyeroll of his own as he threw his hands in the air. “Then why don’t I just leave you to it, hm? Process what happened and figure out how you can let someone besides yourself help you for once. I’ll be in my office if you decide you want to talk instead of taking this shit out on me.”

You could feel the darkness cloud your eyes as you watched him leave. Your breaths increased and your hands twitched by your sides as you fought the urge to put him in a similar position as you had in Sister Imperator’s office. When the door shut, and he was gone, you deflated. The anger dissipated as quickly as it appeared and you were left with the weight of the exchanged words pressing down on you. Tears welled in your eyes and yet again you found yourself sobbing.

There was no choice but to have your defenses up. You had to for Copia’s sake. It was better to fight with him than to have him know the truth, than to have him know the real monster you were and what you had done, than to have him gone.

As this crying session ran its course, you managed to drag yourself to bed. Exhaustion finally hit you like a freight train and you wanted nothing more than to sleep. To forget about everything that happened and was going to happen. 

When you finally woke up, you opened your eyes to see your phone perched softly on the pillow next to you, which was nothing more than a black mirror. You knew you hadn’t received a single notification, but you still kept checking all your apps in case you might have missed something. By this time, it was late afternoon, almost evening, and still no sign of Copia. He was the least of your concerns at this point. A text from him wasn’t what you were anxiously expecting. There was no way Terzo had forgotten about you going to his office today. Especially not after knowing how much you had clearly weighed on his mind last night.

You ended up pacing around the living room, drowning in anxiety over what could happen if you didn’t go see him in between bouts of replaying yesterday’s events and bathing in self-loathing. Contemplating the “what ifs” seemed worse than just going to his office and getting it over with. 

You knew you could protect yourself. You knew what happened before could never happen again. In all actuality, he should be terrified of you. The power was yours, not his, and yet he was still puppeting you. You couldn’t stop thinking, stop worrying. What would he do? Would he retaliate again? Coerce you into who the hell knows what? He was still in control and you wanted to take it back. Face to face. Shoving your phone in your pocket, you strode out of the apartment.

Do not follow me. I don’t care what orders you have. You thought harshly to whatever ghoul was currently on guard as you breezed by them.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the abbey. The last thing you needed to deal with was more fearful stares from the siblings of sin who crossed paths with you. You were still you despite what they had heard. Well, that made you realize maybe they had a point to be cautious of you. The more you thought about it, the more the realization sunk in that you really didn’t know who you were at this point. Everything you thought you knew about yourself and your relationships seemed to have imploded.  

At least every ghoul you came across gave you a respectful nod with a muted “Your Eminence,” as you passed by them. You couldn’t fault the fear that spread through the siblings. This was unknown to literally everyone. You barely knew what was going on with your life, never mind knowing what could possibly be said to assuage their mounting fears. 

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you finally found yourself outside this dreadful door yet again. You stood there, unable to decide if you should just barge right in or be polite and knock. The fact that this was your Papa was now lost on you. Never again would you treat him with that respect. He was nothing more than a figurehead. You answered to those actually on the Infernal Court, not some weak excuse of a human substitute. With that, you opened the door and then knocked. 

Terzo had his head over his desk, his hands in his hair, gripping it like he was seconds away from ripping it out. He snapped his head up to your direction once he heard the door open. Initially, his expression was painful. Eyes watery as if he could cry at any moment. He relaxed into a soft smile when he saw it was you approaching his desk. “Cara mia, che sorpresa (my dear, what a surprise).” 

“Sorpresa?” you repeated with a suppressed laugh. “You literally texted me yesterday I had to come see you.”

He furrowed his brows and reached for his phone with a defeated sigh. Taking a moment to find what you were talking about, he scrolled through his messages before a smirk overtook his features. “Come potrei dimenticare (How could I forget)?” he murmured to himself with a breathy chuckle. Looking up at you through his lashes, his expression darkened as his pupils started to dilate from his lust. He gave you a crooked smile as he opened a drawer, tossing a small ball of red fabric at you.

You caught it in disgust. Barely holding it between your index finger and thumb, the red thong dangled delicately. A cold laugh escaped your lips and you threw it back at him. “Coglione fottuto (You fucking idiot)! These aren’t even mine,” you sneered as you hurled it back at him. His mouth hung open as he stared at them in his hands. He flicked his eyes back at you incredulously. “I wore the black ones? Ring any bells?”

He shook his head in disbelief at his own mistake as he tossed the red ones back in the draw. He ruffled around for a moment, before he held out a lacy black thong. “This one?” he asked dismally.

“Wow! You did it! You can keep them as your prize, because there’s no way in Hell I want those back,” you praised sarcastically.

He didn’t even hit you with a witty comeback. The only thing he could do was let out a fatigued breath as he pushed his chair back slightly, leaning his head back with his eyes closed. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying this. “Aw, someone having a bad day?” you purred, your sickly sweet voice feigning affection. His white eye shot open to glare at you before he went back to his resting state. 

You knew you should just leave his office to go about the rest of your day with a mild sense of peace, maybe go and find Copia to apologize for your outbursts. A part of you wanted to egg Terzo on. You wanted to fight with him. You wanted – and you hated to admit it – to see how far you could push him before he tried something again. You were trying to seek more punishment because of what had happened, even though it was no fault of your own. You wanted to see how far either of you had to go before lines were crossed.

There were times you admired and revered your own caring personality; however, this was not one of those times. You rolled your eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh of your own before you stomped over to him. “Seriously? Not even a snappy response? Are you feeling okay?” you asked as you put the back of your hand to his forehead. 

Eyes still closed, his hand shot up, his thumb stroked small circles on your wrist, while still having a tight hold on you. When he finally opened his mismatched eyes, they searched yours, almost pleading with you to understand something you couldn’t quite place. “I’ve barely slept. Not since… There were nightmares,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by this confession. You didn’t react, just waited for him to continue. “I’ve– They were so real…” he said, barely audible, eyes unfocused as he recalled them. He shook his head and met your eyes again. “I… I’m… So I’ve been here for, I don’t know how long now. I’ve tried everything to distract myself. I started to draft sermons. Hell, I even tried to get the tedious paperwork done. I can’t focus. On anything. Nothing makes sense. It’s like… like everything is so… How you say? Muddled. Everything is muddled.” At some point during his confession, his hand moved from your wrist to take your hand in his. You let him lace his fingers with yours as you belatedly put two and two together. You had to try to hide the smug satisfaction that your hex had almost instantaneous effects. 

He now held your hand in both of his. When he looked up at you again, his eyes were glassy from tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking a-about… what I-I’ve done… about what I did to you…”

You let your mouth hang open. Letting go of his pride was something of a rarity when it came to Terzo. But then you remembered. You yanked your hand from his. Your shock turned into an icy glare. “What the fuck are you getting at?” you snapped.

“I’m not getting at anything! I’m just telling you…”

“What? That you’re sorry? Do you want me to forgive you? Do you even think I can after everything?”

“No! Sathanas, no. You shouldn’t.” He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head slightly, like he was fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “Non mi lo merito (I don’t deserve it)...” he mumbled, barely moving his lips.

You leaned back on his desk. Sighing again as you crossed your arms. “So what happens now?”

“Do you love him?” he asked you suddenly.

“Excuse me, what?”

“Copia. Do you love him?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“It’s a simple question, tesoro. Do you love him or not?”

“This is ridiculous. We are so not having this conversation.” You pushed off the desk as you scoffed, shaking your head. You weren’t enraged by his question, more so shocked by it. You still couldn’t bring yourself to storm out of his office. The part of you that wanted to stay kept you in that room, so you just began pacing.

“Why won’t you just answer the question?”

“Because we don’t have this kind of relationship anymore? Sweet Lucifer! You… You know what you are?”

“Waiting for you to answer a sì o no question?”

“You are rude, uncouth, and presumptuous. The only reason I’m even here is because I was practically having a panic attack over what you would do to me if I didn’t show up! Clearly you’re too busying brooding to even think about fucking me over. So, I’m leaving now. Wonderful talk. Let’s not do it again sometime,” you said as you began to step away from behind his desk. You didn’t get very far when you felt him grab your hand. His grip was firm, but not in a menacing way.

“I– I want you to be sure you are making the right choice… Please, don’t go, dolcezza. Per favore,” he pleaded with you.

That was all it took for him to piss you off.

“Making the right choice? Making the right choice?” you repeated through your clenched jaw. Ripping your hand from his, your body moved before you could even register what it was doing. You shoved him so he was pressing against the back of his oversized chair, before you climbed into the chair, straddling him. You took a fistful of his hair in your hand, pulling his head back so he was looking up at you. Your other hand flew up to wrap around his throat, fingers digging into his jugular. You could feel his pulse quicken under your fingertips and you would have been lying if you said it didn’t delight you. “What makes you think after you went behind my back, fucking ruined me, and fucking manipulated me… You tore my heart out only to put it back together to just break it again. Over. And over. And over. What makes you think I would ever choose you?”

“Allora puniscimi (Then punish me),” he croaked.

You lit the fire, but this time it felt different. When it was sparked from wrath you felt it consume your entire body. This time you felt its spark begin in your chest and radiate outward. Its epicenter stemming from your core. You refused to even acknowledge the fact lust was the probable cause this time. 

Further tightening your grip in his hair, he watched your eyes flood with inky darkness. Any other time, your dominance over him would have turned him to putty. He stayed there, rigid, under your hold. His heartbeat quickened even faster from fear. Arousal was nowhere to be found.

Your hand continued to constrict around his throat. Then you pressed your knees to his sides like you were trying to squeeze the life out of him painfully and slowly. You felt nothing beneath you. No bulge. No twitch. Nothing. All you heard was his strained breathing and near whimpers. Too riled up, you ignored the crushing disappointment. You were like a predator that had been promised a chase with its prey, only to be met with finding its leg already stuck in a trap. Forcefully, you tossed his head to the side as you got off him, a sound of disgust rushed past your lips. He only coughed and rubbed his throat. 

You should have been gloating. Your spell made him fold, made him suffer. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t satisfying. You wanted to feel him break under your hands. With an exhale, the fire was smothered and that left you questioning if your revenge quest was even worth it.

“You really are that fucked up over this that you can’t even get it up?” you said as you returned to your prior stance, leaning against his desk.

He glared at you. “Or it was the fact I was fearing for my life.”

“Don’t even try that with me. Don’t act like now, suddenly, you’re trying to actually deal with your feelings instead of fucking them away.”

He shot up and stood a handbreadth away from you. “People can change, dolcezza.” He planted his hands on either side of you, caging you in. The desk dug into your back as you tried to recoil from him. “If I wasn’t doing that, what do you think we’d be doing right now, hm?” He moved his hand up like he was about to brush the fallen hair out of your face.

You sucked in your lip as your eyes turned to slits. No other muscles dared to move. Your mind was struggling between the choice to shove him away from you or pull him as close as you could to you. Could your spell have brought out the Terzo you thought you knew – the one you had loved – at the price of his impotence? 

He didn’t allow you to make that choice as his hand quickly fell and he pushed off the desk, walked around his chair, and began to pace with his hands folded behind his back. “In my dream, my nightmare, I had to watch you die. Over and over again. Because of me. No matter what I did, I lost you. Naturalmente, when I woke up, I realized… that already happened.” He paused to cast a forlorn glance at you. The second your eyes met his, he resumed his pacing and his monologue. “From then, I tortured myself thinking of every single thing I did to you. It was like I could feel. I could feel your heart shattering… every single time. Then I remembered the first time I saw you. Your awestruck look as you looked around the chapel. The electricity when your eyes met mine, before you shyly looked away. I remembered every moment that made me fall in love with you.” 

You couldn’t watch him any longer. Your eyes tried to burn a hole in the floor in front of you. It’s a trick, it’s a trick, it’s a trick… you repeated to yourself. So lost in your mantra, you didn’t even realize he was standing before you until you felt a finger gently lift up your chin to turn your gaze towards his two toned one. 

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve you. And I never did. But there’s nothing I couldn’t give you. There’s nothing I’d deny you.” He let go of your chin to reach past you to get something off his desk. Your bodies flush against each other for a brief moment. You cursed the shockwave it sent up your body. He held a small black box out to you. Your eyebrows immediately pulled down in anger as he held up one hand as if to slow you down. “I need you to know I had every intention…” He let out a breath before he briefly shut his eyes, almost wincing. “I already had this before I– before the first time I–” his voice faltered. He swallowed hard to regain his composure. “You were it for me. I wanted you by my side. Only you. But every time I looked at this, every time I thought of giving this to you… Cazzo (fuck)!” he hissed the expletive. 

Rapidly, he blinked as he looked up to the ceiling, desperately trying to stop tears from spilling. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth before he continued again. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I knew you deserved better. And I knew I couldn’t have someone as wonderful as you. At least not for much longer. True happiness… true love… Those are things that don’t… ever find me. And if they do, well, they are taken away from me as fast as they appear. So maybe, if I ruined it, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” He let out a humorless laugh through his nose. “Then I found out about your mark… about your destiny… I wanted you to hate me. In that I have succeeded, but… I don’t think I can live another day in a world where you despise me.” He took your hand and put the box in it. 

You gasped when you opened it. Inside was a black gold ring. Twelve diamonds looked as if they were braided around it. In the center, a cushion cut ruby of heirloom quality that was almost the size of your pinky nail. You flicked your eyes between the ring and Terzo. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the sound stayed trapped in your throat.

“I know how I hurt you. I see how wrong, how cruel, how… evil I was. I can change. I am changing. I can be a better man.” He took the ring box from your hand, placing it behind you. His hands held your gaze to his as he gently took your head between his hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks twice. You couldn’t even detect any lust in his eyes. All you found was love. And that terrified you more than anything. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. If you’d just… open your heart again to me, amore.”

You were too stunned, by him, by his confession, by his honesty, by everything. Like a deer in headlights, you stood still as he leaned in, his lips almost brushing yours when a hammering sound hit his office door. Quickly he turned his head away from you, hands sliding down to your arms. With a heavy sigh, his voice boomed in comparison to the moment before, “Who is it?”

“Eh, sono io, fratello (it’s me, brother).” Both pairs of eyes already in Terzo’s office widened at the sound of the familiar voice on the other side of the door. Your stomach dropped as panic swirled inside you. 

Terzo started to fold you, urging you to hide under his desk, which luckily had a front that went all the way to the floor. As you curled up in the corner, Terzo pulled his chair in, sat down, and tossed the ring box in a drawer. “I can, uh, come back some other time…”

“No, no. Come in.”

Hesitantly, Copia stuck his head in, unsure of what he’d find. When he saw his disheveled brother sitting alone at his desk, he entered the room, closing the door behind him. Biting your finger to keep quiet, you braced yourself for the potential of everything you built to come crashing down around you.

 “Can’t say I expected a visit from you. I think I would be the last person you’d want to see,” Terzo spoke first, breaking the awkward silence.

Copia cleared his throat. “Yes, well… Eh, even if you’re an absolute dickhead, you’re still my brother, eh? I just want to talk to you, as brothers. I think we both owe each other that.”

“And what is it that you think you owe me?” 

“An explanation?” Copia made it sound like a question. He knew he didn’t have to explain himself, but he hated how strained his relationship had become with this brother and, if he was being completely honest, with his whole family. Between the duties they all dumped on him and his constant need for their approval, all he wanted was to try to break through to Terzo and stop him from destroying himself. 

Terzo rolled his eyes as he scoffed. “An explanation for what? Sweeping the only person I ever truly loved off her feet?” You so wanted to kick Terzo in the shin for that sardonic comment. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I know I fucked up everything.”

“But why? If you love her like you say you do, why’d you even allow that to happen?”

Terzo tilted his head as he squinted at his brother, his expression nothing short of a warning. “What do you think I allowed to happen?”     

“You allowed her heart to shatter into pieces.” You had to firmly shut your eyes at Copia’s comment. It never ceased to amaze you how observant he was. Then again, he was always the one you ran to when Terzo fucked up. A sharp pang hit your chest as you recalled your fight with him from the morning.

“Do you think I’m not painfully aware of that?” Terzo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You could have told her what you were up to. You didn’t. You left her broken and pushed her away. Why?”

A pained expression took over his features. “Because there wasn’t another way,” he practically whined. “I couldn’t tell her, because that’s not how the awakening happens. It just… does. From pain. From anger.”

“No, no, no,” the cardinal said as he crossed his arms and waved them away in front of him. “I refuse to believe that. You could have protected her, warned her without telling her… exactly or something. Anything! You could have done it without indulging–”

Terzo shot up and slammed his fists on the table. Both you and Copia jumped at the brusque movement and sound. “Do you really think I wanted to do that to her?!” he boomed. “Do you think I got enjoyment out of it? Why do you think I pushed her away?! Because I couldn’t stand to see the pain in her eyes knowing it was because of me. Knowing I had to be the one to cause it so she could awaken and be her true self. So, no, I couldn’t tell her. Because they didn’t want me to.” He clenched his fists and sat down again. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Believe me, I’m paying for it now. I have nothing– I am nothing without her. So, enjoy your time with her while you can,” he spat. 

Copia sat there, staring at Terzo in stunned silence. “Wh-what is that supposed to mean?”

Terzo’s eyes darkened mischievously as he got up and sauntered over to lean against the front of his desk. Nonchalantly he inspected his gloved hand, adjusting it as he said, “Don’t you know the very end of the prophecy? Didn’t anyone tell you?” Your eyes widened. You knew it. You knew he was still hiding something. He could play up the “boohoo poor me” act until he won an Oscar, but you knew. There was only one thing that he truly cared about and that was himself. Using all the restraint you could, you stayed as still and silent as possible. “‘And from the flames of wrath she is born. By her side remains only one of the halves from the sacred consanguineous line. Together, they bring forth a new age.’” 

Baphomet’s words from your vision rang through your head: “To balance shadow with light, the halfling will be what reminds you of your humanity. While there is someone to bring out the beast, there is also someone to tame it. The halfling will be the sole survivor. Together, you will lead the next chapter. Together, you will continue to spread our message.” The Infernals made it sound like there was only one halfling. You had been certain they had been referring to Copia. He was the one who brought you back from the pits of your darkness; Terzo was the one to push you into it. Could it have been a mistranslation? Or did you always have a choice between them?

“How do you know this? The goddamn seers?” Copia interrogated, his jaw clenched as he understood the implications of the prophecy. The leather of his gloves crinkled as his hands balled into taut fists. 

Terzo shrugged. “I’ve simply done my research.”

“Why are you telling me this now?!” demanded Copia.

Anger flamed in Terzo’s eyes at the disobedient tone from his brother. “Sei fortunato che ti sto dicendo adesso (You’re lucky that I am telling you now)!” he snarled. “You aren’t the only half brother. This involves me just as much as it does you.”

Copia bolted out of the chair, getting in Terzo’s face. “And it should be up to her who she chooses. Not you,” he growled. 

Terzo turned his mouth upward into a half crooked smile. “Did I say I was going to make her choice for her?” Copia’s mouth twitched into a sneer. “But I don’t see how the odds look good for you… The Infernals have shown themselves to me.” He dropped his voice low, to just above a whisper, still loud enough for you to make out what he was saying. “And I do believe they are very pleased with my work so far. Besides, what use would someone like you even be to them? You’re nothing but a weak excuse, a mousey knock off of an Emeritus.”

Any restraint Copia had snapped like a string pulled too tight. You could hear the dull thump just before you felt the desk shake as Terzo fell back into it. His soft chuckle filled your ears. “Who knew il rattolino could throw a punch, eh? So much for our… brotherly talk.”

Copia grabbed him by his jacket, yanking him close to his face. “Non ti sceglierà mai (She will never choose you).”

“She might… when she realizes she needs a Papa by her side and not a pathetic cardinal.”

Your eyes shut for a moment. When you opened them again, you knew they had turned as dark as a forest on the night of a new moon. 

“She has more power than you will ever know, bastardo patetico (you pathetic bastard).”

“Oh, how your words wound me,” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

Copia gruffly tugged on Terzo’s jacket again, forcing his gaze back on him. “You really think you can stand to share the spotlight, hm? Is that really why you could never ask her to marry you?”

In a fury, Terzo broke away from Copia’s grip, while shoving him backwards. He stumbled into the chair, bracing himself on it to save his balance. He then grabbed Copia roughly by his cassock. “Do you know how quickly I could send you back to Italia? Hm? Do you?”

“She’d never forgive you.”

“I don’t need her forgiveness as long as I am the one by her side.”

“You’ll regret it when she makes your life a living hell.”

“And I’d expect nothing less from her.” Terzo pursed his lips together in a failed attempt to hide his spiteful smile. He knocked twice on his desk, right above you, with his knuckles before he let out a brief laugh through his nose. “Then again, I know her. I know what to do to… tame the beast inside her. I know exactly what buttons to push. And where,” he smirked, eyes flicking up devilishly at his brother who was almost as red as his cassock. 

Copia was trembling in his rage. His mouth opened and closed like it was held together with loose thread. Words failed him now, there was nothing he could say. There was nothing he could do. He needed to find you. He needed answers. Between how out of character you had been acting, he knew there was a piece of this story he was missing and he was done with being kept in the dark. So, he swiftly turned to make a hasty exit.

“Leaving so soon, fratello?”

“I’m going to find her,” he growled without looking back.

“Ah, yes,” Terzo simply laughed as Copia stormed out.  “Good luck with that.” He sauntered over to shut the door his brother had left wide open.

When he turned around, he was met with the glare of your deathly eyes. His blood ran cold.

part vi | part viii

[misssharrington]

— ✧ ˚ · girl of steel !!

. . . ࿐ྂ ❝ one | the morning after ❞

wattpad | playlist

The creaking of the train echoed through the emptied carriage of the early morning. Passing lights of tunnels and the sunrise shone through the windows, softly coating my face in faint warmth. I sat in the seat closest to the door, resting my aching head against the glass as I took in my reflection.

My black bra was perfectly visible through my barely-there top. The mini-skirt I wore had ridden up more than you could possibly imagine, lace stockings unclipped and hanging around my shins. I held my black heeled pumps in my hands. Any makeup I had worn the night before was rubbed off, the only remaining remnants being the black eyeliner smeared over my eyes, and glitter along my cheekbones and all in my hair. I couldn't tell if it was the train glass making my reflection all distorted or what was leftover in my system.

I sat with my legs tucked into myself, fading in and out of sleep. I rubbed my eyes with my hands groggily, debating whether I should stay on this train instead of going home.

There were a handful of people in the same carriage as me. A middle aged man seemed to wear a perverted smirk as he ogled me. I stuck my middle finger up at him, and his expression turned sour. I laughed at his reaction. Across from me, a concerned mother was trying to keep her son as away from me as possible.

The carriage doors opened and a ticket inspector came walking through. I cursed under my breath and went to get up, but there were too few people around to distract him from my movement. 

"Ticket?" He asked me. 

"Um, yeah." I replied hesitantly, feeling around my non-existent pockets for a ticket.

The inspector stood impatiently in front of me, tapping his foot on the metal floor. The pervert smirked at my obvious trouble. 

"Miss, if you don't have a ticket, I'm going to have to fine you." He told me. 

"Please don't do that." I asked tiredly, my voice hoarse from last night. 

He sighed. "If you pay for a ticket now, I won't fine you."

I groaned. 

"What's the problem?" He asked. 

"I don't have any money." I told him, cringing my face at his reaction.

"I'm going to have to fine you." He told me sternly. 

"Listen, man-" I began, before I was interrupted. 

"I can pay!" A boy not so far from me intruded on the situation. 

"Young man, this is her problem, not yours." The ticket inspector told him. 

"No, really, it's okay. I can pay for her ticket." The boy insisted. 

The inspector looked between him and I suspiciously. I shrugged at him, just as confused as he was. 

He sighed. "Alright." 

The boy paid for the ticket, and the inspector begrudgingly left. The boy handed the ticket to me with an awkward smile. 

He looked about my age, with dark hair and a dorky lopsided smile. 

"Thanks..." I trailed off, waiting for his name. 

"Tim." He told me sweetly. 

"Tim. Thanks, again." I said. 

"No problem..." He waited for me to do the same. 

"Bianca." I told him. 

"Bianca." He repeated, the name sounding melodic on his lips. 

"That was really nice of you." I said to him truthfully.

"It was really no problem. Don't worry about it." He told me. 

We well into a silence next to each other. The only noise between us was the train bumping on the old tracks. 

"So," I began, "where are you headed?"

"School." Tim told me. 

"Cool." I nodded my head. "Me too."

He tilted his head in slight confusion. "Does your school not have a dress code?"

"Watch." I told him, standing up. I put on the jumper I was carrying with me, which covered my whole chest. I pulled my skirt down so it wasn't so short, clipped my stockings back, and put my shoes on. 

"Ta da!" I said in a sing songy voice, my appearance now more presentable. 

"Cool party trick." He said, grinning. 

"Thanks!" I smiled back. 

The train pulled into my station. I felt a pang of annoyance that my conversation with Tim had to be cut short. 

"This is me." I said. 

"Oh." He hummed lowly. "Well, have fun at school."

"See you round Tim. I owe you. For the ticket, I mean." I told him, smirking. 

"Yeah, you do." He retorted, a glint in his eyes. 

I chucked to myself, stepping off of the train and into the dingy station. As it began to leave, I looked back to the carriage. He was looking back at me. I sucked in my cheeks, watching the train leave, butterflies in my stomach. I shook my head at myself, snapping out of my own silly thoughts.

As I entered the school's office, the lady who worked there didn't lift her head to acknowledge me. She continued to tap her long-nailed fingers on her keyboard in front of her. I cleared my throat, and she looked up. 

"Hi." I waved at her innocently. 

"You're late." She told me blankly. 

"I know, I'm here to sign in." I told her.

"You can only sign in if you have a reason to be late." She said. 

"I had a doctors appointment." I said, lying through my teeth.

"Did you now?" She replied sarcastically. 

"Yeah?" I said, unsure of how well this was going. 

She said nothing, and handed me a plastic ziplock bag. 

"Aw, why?" I moaned at her.

"You're late. Again." She ground through her teeth, tapping her pen on her desk in annoyance.

I huffed as I emptied out my pockets. I put my phone and lipgloss into the bag, and handed it back to the lady. She raised her eyebrow at me, and crossed her arms. 

"Fine." I sighed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter I had hidden in my bra. I put them in the bag and sealed it up. The lady snatched it out of my hands. 

"Collect it at the end of the day." She told me, before turning her back on me, and continuing to do her work. 

I rolled my eyes at her, and walked to class. 

The hallways were empty and dim. Lifeless is the word I would use. This was Bakerline Prep, a reform school for troubled teens. I had been expelled from school a couple of months ago, and admitted into this institution not long after. It was a prison for sixteen year olds - literally. Everything was clinical. All the rooms were white. All the desks were metal. Any sharp edges were harm proofed. There weren't even locks on bathroom doors. 

I came up to the classroom, and peeked through the glass of the door. I debated running away and hiding in a closet somewhere. Sighing, I opened the door with a creak. 

"Bianca, you're late." The teacher told me. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I grumbled, and made my way to my seat through a maze of sullen faces. 

The teacher continued to speak, and I sunk down in my seat, overcome with boredom. I hung my head backwards, looking at the boy behind me. 

"Hi." I whispered to Luke. 

He leaned forward, smirking at me. 

"You should be paying attention." Luke teased. "You've already missed the first half of the lesson."

"You should be paying attention." I said. "Otherwise you'll get held back another year."

He kicked my chair and I giggled. 

"Pass these around the classroom." The teacher began. "Please write your name and age. Read through and tick the boxes of what sounds interesting to you. We will do our hardest to get you placements according to your preferences." He droned on, reading the lesson plan from a sheet of paper through his thickly rimmed glasses. 

The sheet of paper was passed back to me. I wasn't paying enough attention to know what was happening. I looked back to Luke for help. 

"Placement year forms." He told me. I continued to stare at him, not knowing what that was. 

"Work experience." He simplified it. I made an 'o' shape with my mouth, understanding. 

I read the form in front of me, tapping my pen on the metal desk. The chairs and desks were firmly screwed into the ground, so no one can try and throw them. I learned the hard way. 

I began to fill in all the forms. Name: Bianca Romano. Age: 16.

I put my hand up, and the teacher came over. 

"Can I have a pen reader?" I asked him. 

"Yeah, sure." He told me, and handed me one from his desk drawer, with some headphones.

I plugged them in and dragged the reader over each word. It repeated them into the headphones, reading the words out to me, rather than me trying to struggle through my dyslexia. 

Write reports. No.

Work in an office. No. 

Work with animals. I ticked that box.

Take care of children. Hell no.

Act in a TV show or movie. I didn't tick it. I wouldn't like those many cameras on me all at once. 

Write for a newspaper. Newspaper? I stared at that option, hesitantly ticking the box. I didn't even think people read newspapers anymore. Maybe the workload would be minimal. 

I made my way through the rest of the list, leaving the remaining boxes blank. These were all terrible, but I didn't expect any respectively good companies to want troubled children with criminal records working for them. 

I looked around once I was done, realising I was the last one in the empty classroom. I stood up and handed the paper to the teacher, and left. 

"Hey." I heard someone call me. I turned around, to see Luke following me into the school garden. 

"Hey yourself." I said, sitting on one of the tables outside, resting my feet on the seat attached to it. 

He came to stand in front of me, and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. Luke offered me one, and I accepted. He lit it for me with a grin. I eyed him cautiously. He was tall, and handsome, and he had a sharp smile that cut like a knife. 

"What did you do to your hair?" Luke asked, brushing his fingers through my blue streaked blonde locks. 

"I dyed it." I told him, bored. 

"It looks... distinctive." He struggled to find the words. 

"Thanks." I said dismissively, having no care for his opinion. 

"What did you pick for your placement?" He asked me, switching the conversation.

"Animals and newspaper." I told him. 

"Newspaper?" Luke laughed at me. 

"What?" I asked.

"Why would you pick newspaper?" He asked, confused.

"Like Sex In The City!" I defended myself.

"You know that involves, like, actually doing something." Luke teased me.

"No, really? I thought I would tick the box and suddenly the newspaper fairies would appear and carry me to an office far far away." I replied sarcastically. He rolled his eyes at me. 

"I didn't realise I don't meet your standards for work placements." I told him, feigning innocence. "God forbid I'm even seen with you in public." I said, getting up to leave. 

"C'mon, I was only messing around." He said, moving in front of me so I don't leave. I tilted my head at him, annoyed. He brushed his hands over my shoulders, down to my waist. 

"I'm only playing, don't be mad." Luke said charmingly. His cropped brown hair glinted more auburn in the midday sunlight. 

I gathered the material of his shirt in my hands and pulled him forward, so his face was close to mine. 

"Don't be fucking rude." I told him sweetly.

I put out my cigarette on the sleeve of his jacket, and went to leave for the cafeteria. I felt my stomach begin to rumble in hunger. Luke stayed where he was, but gave me some money for food. 

"Drop me home later?" I asked, fluttering my eyelashes. 

"Always." He told me. 

I smiled, pleased with his answer. I wasn't exactly asking. 

I thanked Luke with a kiss for driving me all the way home. He had asked to come up to my room, but I hadn't let him. It wasn't that I didn't like him - I was just embarrassed of what my life would look like compared to his. Luke was from the Luthor family - his father was the CEO of LexCorp. They shit gold. 

And me? They wouldn't touch my gold with a ten foot pole. 

It was something I didn't want to think about. Luke lived with his father in a penthouse apartment that had more bathrooms than I could count on one hand. And I lived in one small flat with my family of eight, with three bedrooms between us. 

I made my way up the stairs to our apartment, and bumped into Camilla, my younger sister. 

"Where are you going?" I asked her, eyeing her blue and yellow cheer uniform.

"I have a pep rally." She said, brushing her curly brown hair out of her face, barely looking at me. 

The sound of Luke's expensive car leaving the street echoed through the tattered building doors.  We watched the car drive away through the glass. Camilla scoffed at his obnoxiousness.

"Why do you even hang out with him?" She scoffed. "Oh, that's right. He's rich, and single, and male. Of course you'd throw yourself at him." My sister smirked at me viciously. 

I held back my anger at her comment. "Good luck at your pep rally, Cami. And good luck on the top of the pyramid. Hopefully you don't slip, fall and break your neck." I told her sweetly, venom lacing my tone. 

"Whatever." She said, storming off down the stairs. 

I arrived at our door, and knocked, not having my keys. No one answered. I tried the door handle, and it was unlocked. If we ever get robbed, we'd probably deserve it. But I pity the robber that comes into our apartment looking for anything nice at all. 

I walked into the kitchen, sighing when I saw Tina, my older sister. 

"You look like shit." She told me, eyeing my appearance like a vulture. 

"Not all of us can be perfect like you." I told her, looking her up and down. Her hair was straightened, dark silky waves falling down her back. Her makeup was perfectly done, and her workwear was pristine. 

"Where were you last night?" She asked me. 

I got a bowl out of a cupboard and poured myself some cereal. I huffed when there was only scraps left in the bag for me to have. 

"I was at church." I told her sarcastically.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at my lack of an answer.

"I ran into Cami in the hallway." I mentioned, pouring some milk into the bowl. Tina nodded uninterested. "She still hates me." I continued. 

"You did have sex with her boyfriend." She bit back. 

I slammed the milk down on the counter angrily, splitting the bottom of the plastic bottle. 

"He is not her boyfriend!" I shouted. "He never was!"

"Jesus, Bianca-" Tina began.

"I had sex with someone she wanted to and she's still sore I got there first, and now she's a massive bitch to me every second of my life and everyone defends her!" I continued to shout. 

Tina stared at me, quiet. "Having tantrums about your mistakes won't fix things." She told me lowly. 

I sucked my cheeks in with anger, pursing my lips and sticking my middle finger up at her. She rolled her eyes at my behaviour, ignoring me. I turned to storm out of the room. 

"Your cereal?" Tina reminded me. 

"Why the fuck would I want the scraps left for the least favourite child?" I retorted, hurt lacing my words. 

I got to my room and slammed the door shut, loudly. 

I was so overcome with anger, I grabbed a pillow from my bed and screamed into it. I smashed it with my fists until I became tired, and lay on my bed in defeat. Everything was so shit. The world was tinted in a permanent grey. I didn't know how much longer I could take it.

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[nayialovecat]

The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 29. Meat

Day 29. Meat Crossover: The Addams Family Finally, Bendy has the family he fully deserves and fits into! Joey Drew is so dead at the moment... :] The Addams family are one of the most supportive and helping each other families in pop culture!

I love The Addams Family! I'm a really big fan and so far there hasn't been a series that would discourage me (yes, I watched the latest animations, yes, they are embarrassing in places and don't fully capture the spirit of Addams, but they are not so tragically bad that I would suffer while watching them ). The only thing I haven't seen at least partially yet is theatre performance about The Addams Family. But they've been playing it since November at the Syrena Theater in Warsaw, so maybe I'll go there soon :)

Everyone has or has had some unrealistic patterns or models in their lives that they have tried to equal on. Whether it was the figure or appearance of a model or actress, the perfect boyfriend you want to meet from a TV show, or amazing skills in reality show... I had such an ideal - a perfect marriage. And it was Gomez and Morticia Addams. For me, they are the model of a perfect couple who complement each other perfectly and love each other, and are also really charming separately. Few people remember it, because newer productions have lost it, but in older series Morticia devoted herself to the hobby of growing dangerous and beautiful plants, such as carnivorous plants, poison ivy - and roses (because of the thorns; but she always cut off the flowers). She was also a painter and an excellent fencer (the only one to defeat Gomez in this field). And at the same time a loving and supportive mother and wife. At the same time - an icon of sexuality, charm and grace - simply an ideal woman and for me - an unsurpassed role model. I love her character - and that's why her presentation in these two parts of the newest animation hurts me the most, where they turned her into an anorexic skeleton with a domineering, uncompromising character. What happened to my sensitive and supportive Morticia, who likes to be tortured from time to time? Eh...

I also like Wednesday, Lurch (by the way, until I saw the spelling of his name, I was sure his name was Large), Thing, Fester... well, there's actually no character I don't like. Seriously, I'm a huge fan. So when it turned out that I no longer had room for any Addams-related entry, I was a bit sad. And then I said: hell no! I can eliminate Adventure Time (which pissed me off with the ending of the main plot of the series), move Cult of the Lamb in its place, and in ITS place present Morticia in her natural environment! Of course, feeding raw meat to her beloved Cleopatra. Ta-da!

Style of drawing characters was based primarily on the cartoon from 1992 (Hanna-Barbera studio), but I tried to give them a bit of my own style. If I wasn't pressed for time, I would probably colour this art entirely in shades of gray - but I only have one day left and about 1.5 pictures to colour, so... I'm giving it to you as it is - and I think it's great anyway.

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. The Addams Family (c) Charles Samuel Addams Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat