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nyctophicbtch · 2 years ago

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The Songcord - Neteyam

[ Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader ]

Request: Can I request a Neteyam x Omaticaya!reader

Author’s note: I recommend listening to From Darkness to Light, The Spirit Tree, and The Songcord if you have tissues prepared

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, death

Word Count: 3,101

“Feels like I haven’t been here in ages,” you muttered, hands brushing the glowing strands of the tree of voices. Kiri and Tuk were already immersed in their own worlds, not hearing a thing you were saying. Spider was out exploring on his own, eyeing the sky, the flowers, the tree, and basically everything else.

“Better make the most of it then,” Lo’ak replied, attaching his queue to a strand.

Neteyam was standing near the bark, and it looked like he wasn’t going to join them any time soon, so you followed Lo’ak and did the same.

It had been a while since you’d done this, or had been anywhere near the tree at all. Although there were plenty of excuses to use, you knew you were just scared of what you’d see.

It was moments like these, where you’d hear and see your actual parents, that made you afraid. You had been fighting so long to earn your place here with the Sully’s.

Even though you started off wanting to befriend the family of the person who insisted on becoming your friend, it’d grown into something deeper over time. And every time you looked back to your parents whenever you visited the tree made you realize that you could never have what you actually wanted.

The feeling overwhelmed you, screamed at you until the bond was forcefully broken and you were thrown back off your balance. You didn’t know what was happening, but you could somehow make out Lo’ak’s muffled yelling over your blurry vision and ringing ears.

“Neteyam!”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!”

“Move!” You felt hands grasping your shoulders, but you were too caught up on trying to breathe to see who it was. It felt like the air was sucked out of you and none of your senses were working properly. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re here.”

There was no coherent thought on what was going on, but you could feel the thumb gently rubbing small circles on your shoulder.

“Shh. You’re okay,” Neteyam whispered, leaning his forehead to yours.

Your shallow breaths slowly returned to normal, and you started to make sense of what was happening. You could start to feel the numbing of your legs from the uncomfortable position, and you could see Lo’ak’s worried gaze on you. You started to hear Neteyam’s comforting words clearer and feel the way he was holding you.

You heard the sigh of relief Lo’ak released when you felt yourself calming down and Spider running towards you, closing your eyes to let yourself succumb to Neteyam’s comforting hold.

He kept his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours for as long as you’d like to assure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. It was only when you felt the numbing of your legs begin to worsen when you pulled away, finally looking at your surroundings.

Kiri and Tuk were still engrossed in their memories and it looked like they did not witness the scene that had just unfold beside them, much to your relief. You didn’t know how you’d explain this to the cheery child.

“Hey, you okay? What was that?” Spider questioned.

“I don’t know.”

They all decided to leave you to yourself and give you time to think, well except Lo’ak who wasn’t going to let it slide that easily.

“What did you see?” he asked as he sat down beside you, leaning his head against a tree.

“The usual.”

“Then why did-“ Lo’ak stopped himself with a sigh before he could interrogate you any further. “Don’t leave me hanging for too long. Talk when you’re ready.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Guys, it’s dark out we need to get back.” You heard Kiri call out from a distance.

“You were the one that took so long,” Lo’ak replied as he stood up, offering a hand to you for support.

“Let’s go, children.” Neteyam rallied everyone, placing a hand on Tuk’s back when she almost lost her balance.

You all ran back from the way you came, anxiousness gripping at each one of you when you saw the sky completely dark, the only thing lighting it up were the stars and moons.

But there was no room to worry about curfew when all you could think about was what had happened back there. Everything happened so fast you could barely process it.

“You coming?” Neteyam’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You looked up to the boy waiting for you, his head turned back to face you expectantly. In a matter of seconds, you regained your senses and jumped up to the branch near him.

Maybe you didn’t really regain all of your senses after all, considering how you slipped on the moss and fell backwards. Lucky for you, Neteyam had incredible reflexes, grabbing your hand before you managed to fall. Being the Olo’eyktan in training had its perks.

“Careful.”

“Thanks,” you muttered half-heartedly.

Neteyam decided he wasn’t going to press you further on it, giving you some space for whatever is going on in your head.

The branches suddenly felt further apart than they were, and your legs felt heavy as you leaped from branch to branch, following the Sully kids.

“Mom’s going to be so mad,” said Kiri as she ran past Lo’ak to catch up with Spider. Poor Tuk was left behind, so you grabbed her hand and matched your pace with the youngest Sully.

“Come on, Tuk,” you encouraged her when you saw the big jump she had to make. She pursed her lips and made a running start before leaping, Neteyam steadying her balance on the other side.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” he whispered as you passed him.

You could see the circled-outlines of the moons in the sky, their glow being the only thing that allowed you to see your path, apart from the glow behind the opening in a tree bark that indicated you were finally there.

“And where-“ Neytiri started as Neteyam joined your circle. “Have you all been?”

Technically you weren’t actually family, you thought as you slowly backed away from them. With it being so dark and you standing on the edge of the group made your escape seem pretty easy. Neteyam noticed your movements but didn’t comment on it.

“You too.” You froze in your spot, Neytiri’s eyes trained on you like a spotlight.

You doubted that they saw you as family, but Jake and Neytiri had an odd way of making you feel like it. You had been a little younger than Tuk when Lo’ak had found you, and from there, each day you spent with the Sullys brought you closer to the family. But in times like this, you wished you didn’t feel like part of the family enough to escape Neytiri’s scolding.

“Why do they get to do the fun stuff while we sit here? I’d rather join them.”

“Suit yourself. I like it here,” replied Kiri.

Just on time, you stopped your pacing and ran out to the sound of the people shouting for the war party. The scene that greeted you wasn’t what you had initially expected, but it was no surprise either.

You kept your distance as you watched the two boys look down guiltily when Kiri approached, trying to drag the older brother out of the situation.

However, the huge gash on Neteyam’s chest worried you more than anything. His tail was swishing gently, showing the unease he felt.

Eventually, Jake let them both go and you followed them into the tent, and when the boys saw you, their faces lit up.

“Hey,” you approached Neteyam who was sitting on top of a wooden table with Kiri tending to his wounds.

“I’m offended you didn’t come to me first,” grumbled Lo’ak from the corner of the room. He had his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly, and the bright look turned into a sour one.

Although you knew he was messing around, you heard some truth in his words. Besides, it was Lo’ak that had befriended you first, and it was him that had spent his nights up to no good with you when his brother was busy being a good child.

“Missed you too, Lo’ak.”

“Ouch. Can you not?” Neteyam flinched as Kiri pressed into the cut a little too forcefully.

“Do you want me to help?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“No I’m not,” she scoffed before pressing his wound even harsher, making him slap her hand away. “Now that was on purpose. You do it, I’m gonna find Tuk.”

Kiri gave you the bowl before exiting the tent. You were never one for healing, but you saw her plenty of times and she knew that. It was usually Kiri that did all the work when her brothers came back all bruised and bleeding.

“It’s fine. I don’t need it anyways,” Neteyam argued and started to get up when you smeared the sap on his cut.

“It’s deep. You’ll get an infection.”

“No it’s-“

“Sit down.” You gently pushed the hand that wasn’t holding the bowl to his chest and Neteyam sat down. He kept his eyes on you as you continued working on him, making sure to be extra gentle.

“I’m still here,” Lo’ak called out, unamused. “This is getting sappy. I’m leaving.”

“How come you’re younger than me and you get to boss me around all the time?” Neteyam started once his brother was out of earshot.

“I’m Lo’ak’s age.”

“And I see him as a baby.”

You sighed, feeling around his head to find any injuries. Neteyam could tell you were distracted and that your thoughts were everywhere but here with him just from the look in your eyes. You’ve been welled up in your thoughts ever since your last visit to the tree of voices, and the change of mood that came with it was evident.

“You okay?” Neteyam finally decided to speak up, wincing when you pressed on a sore spot in his scalp.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been like this for the past week,” he explained. “Distant.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. I know you better than that. Lo’ak thinks it has something to do with me and he won’t shut up about it.”

“I’m fine.” You applied the sap with just a bit too much pressure on his head and he grasped your hand in his, bringing it away from his head.

“I won’t tell him,” he started when you finally looked at him for the first time ever since Kiri left. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Neteyam saw your hesitance and reached for the bowl in your other hand to set it down next to him. He lowered his voice, speaking gently as if he was afraid of hurting you. “What happened when we were in the tree of voices?”

“I don’t know. I saw my parents and when it stopped I just panicked and I don’t know why. This never happens. Then I started thinking about your family and how they don’t really consider me a part of their family made me wish I had something like that.” You didn’t even realize the tears were falling until you felt Neteyam wipe the ones that fell to your cheeks. He stood and put an arm around you to bring you into an embrace, allowing you to bury your face in his shoulder.

Every welled up thought and feeling from the past week you’ve tried to shove as deep in the back of your head as possible suddenly resurfaced all over again. Maybe you were too scared to admit it, but Neteyam’s comfort was what you’ve been needing.

“You’re as much of the family as I am,” he softly assured whilst pulling away, tilting your chin upwards with a finger to look at him. “It might not look like it, but we all care. Even mom and dad.”

And then Neteyam did something stupid.

He leaned in to press his lips against yours, his grip around you tightening to pull you closer. You could taste the salt from your own tears as you responded with the same amount of intensity, all the built-up emotions finally pouring out into the kiss.

Your hands reached out to wrap around his neck when you felt his tail brush against your leg, the slow loving movements indicating how blissed out he was.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed in that tent, but when you pulled away breathlessly, Neteyam did the same with visible effort.

“How am I going to tell Lo’ak?”

Neteyam breathed out a small laugh and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m more worried about dad.” At his words, you parted from him anxiously. “Relax. You’re family. If anything, they’ll be more worried about you than me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Jake looked like he was having a panic attack when the two of you told him and Neytiri.

“You want to tell me how this happened?” He pointed between the two of you who looked like guilty kids that had gotten caught stealing. You both glanced at each other hesitantly as Jake grew impatient waiting for an explanation from either of you.

“Neteyam kissed me.” Your voice came out so quiet you weren’t sure whether you’d said it out loud or if you’d only said it in your head.

Jake and Neytiri looked purely out of it. They cast their son a look while he looked anywhere but at his parents.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri warned.

The Olo’eyktan made sure to make the list of rules clear for the both of you. No wandering off too far alone together and definitely no sleeping together, even just next to each other separately. Jake mentioned how he knew it wasn’t uncommon considering how you’ve been doing that since you were children, but now it was off limits. He also mentioned a whole set of other rules and how he would kill Neteyam if the boy laid a hand on you or hurt you in any way.

In a way, the protectiveness they held towards you made you feel welcomed and accepted. It made you feel as if you were actually part of the family. And even more so when they offered you to join them to pursue lands beyond the Omatikaya clan.

Since the only people you’ve stuck to since you were young were their kids, Jake and Neytiri knew you’d be devastated if you had to part with them, especially when you were now attached with their eldest son.

There was no dismissing their offer from your side either. You weren’t going to leave the only people who truly knew you, and you weren’t going to leave Neteyam. Though you had to admit, you missed the forest just as much as everybody else.

“What’s that?” asked the youngest Sully as she peeked over your shoulder to get a closer look at what you were holding.

“A bracelet I’m making for you.” Her face brightened even more.

“It’s pretty!”

“It needs more shells. I’ll fetch some more outside and woah-“ your eyes widened when Neteyam and Lo’ak entered, all bruised and bloody. “What now?”

“Got into a fight with Tsireya’s brothers. They were picking on Kiri. Hey Tuk,” Lo’ak said, ruffling his sister’s hair.

“You too?” You looked at the older brother.

“What? Was I supposed to stand there and watch him get beaten up?”

“I could’ve handled them on my own.”

Neteyam snorted. “No, you’d be with Eywa if it wasn’t for me.”

Lo’ak grumbled his way to Tuk, who looked like she had so many questions for him. He picked up the bracelet you made and twirled it in his hands, earning an angry protest from his sister who snatched it away from his hands.

You were about to leave to go shell-hunting when a thought passed through your head after seeing blood on Neteyam’s lips.

It looked like it hadn't dried up, so you acted on impulse when you approached him and brought your hand to his jaw to pull him into a gentle kiss, making sure to lick his bottom lip where the blood was.

The kiss took Neteyam by surprise, and once he was about to respond, you pulled away, leaving him puzzled.

“You got blood on your lips,” you whispered, tracing your fingers along his jaw before reluctantly letting go.

“Gross, you two. Poor Tuk’tirey’s tainted.” You barely heard Lo’ak’s words as you walked away from them.

The rest of your days were filled with the same routine. You’d learn a thing or two from the Tsireya and then Lo’ak would stir up trouble with her brother and his friends. How they had managed to get along after some time was a miracle.

Everyday was filled with new discoveries of their waters. Tuk would ask to see something new almost every hour, and being the favorite, you’d accompany her almost every time. If you weren’t with Tuk, you’d be sitting somewhere with Kiri. If you weren’t with Kiri, you’d be exploring the waters with Lo’ak, and if you weren’t with Lo’ak, you’d be discovering new places on land with Neteyam.

Today, you were with Lo’ak, and you hadn’t expected that warning his Tulkun friend would turn into something much much worse. You weren’t even sure how it came to this point.

You were escaping the sky people when Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were taken. It was one thing after the other and the next thing you know, you were trying to keep your composure as you watched Neteyam writhe in pain from a bullet wound in his chest, your palm caressing his jaw to let him know you were here.

It’s okay. He’s going to be okay.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake voiced your thoughts.

“I want to go home.”

No. It’ll take more than a bullet to kill you.

“I know, I know. We’re going home.”

No. No.

You felt your heart breaking followed by a tear with every sob and pained sound that came out of his mouth.

“It’s okay,” you quietly assured him as your thumb gently stroked his cheek, the first word you’ve spoken coming off as a whisper.

Neteyam glanced your way one last time at your voice before the pain in his eyes turned lifeless and his convulsing body went still.

“No. No, no-“ Neytiri begged and it felt like the air was sucked out of you. “Neteyam!”

You couldn’t even hear your own scream over the ringing of your ears. Everything happened all too fast.

“Neteyam,” you sobbed, cradling his head close.

You can’t leave me. Come back.

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xmenwickedgame · 7 months ago

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ADJUST] Sender straightens/fixes receivers clothing (Tie, coat, hair accessory, etc.) - Jamily

James watched his wife work diligently, moving with the comfortable ease of someone who had done this for a long time. Which, of course, Emily had but that didn't make the gesture any less endearing. Besides, she'd always been better at the fine details than he had.

"So," He said finally, when at last she'd stepped back. "How do I look?"

#aaah the og ship #they're still so beautiful #jamesxavierprime #therenegadechildoftime #emily!prime #jamily #children of the broken queue

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xmenwickedgame · 6 months ago

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@secondchancesmagneto

we could…idk….hold hands through the shark tunnel at the aquarium 🥺

#that one college AU😭#ship: cherik #children of the broken queue

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octuscle · 8 months ago

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Fun on the not so fair ground

Where Darren was, Darren wasn't there because he was particularly clever or hard-working or charming. No one knew exactly how Darren had made it to division manager. And how he had remained division manager despite dissatisfied colleagues and customers. No one liked the arrogant, smug asshole. He was moody, incompetent… But he was divisional manager and because of some skeleton he had in the closet with some board member, he remained divisional manager.

One of Darren's most striking characteristics was his stinginess. And his resentment. He was annoyed that he hadn't won any tickets for the rollercoaster or the Ferris wheel in the lottery organized by the HR department for the company outing to the fair. But he was all the more delighted to win a ticket for the ghost train. Everyone else had always won two tickets. He suspected that the ghost train was so expensive that there was only one ticket for it. And he had it.

For Darren, going to the fair was more of a chore. Having to deal with his colleagues in the evening was an imposition. But since he had won the ticket, he had to go. And he especially had to go on the ghost train. His colleagues wished him a lot of fun, the meeting was in a beer tent in half an hour. Darren joined the short queue. The ticket taker looked at his ticket. "Oh, the special tour!" he said with a grin. His eyes just lit up red for a moment. Must be some kind of special effect, Darren thought to himself. The bar on his gondola closed. The ride started.

It was a terribly boring ride. Only small children would be frightened on something like this. Darren was happy when the ride was over and the bar opened again. He walked towards the exit. Suddenly a door slammed shut in front of him. And a hidden wallpaper door creaked open. This had to be the part with the special tour. But here too: Lame, boring effects. Some of them were obviously broken. And the dust and cobwebs seemed to be real. Darren stood in front of a picture with the caption "Your greatest horror". Well. Biggest horror. It showed a young man with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Darren wasn't afraid of people like that. He ignored people like that. There was a mirror next to the picture. It was captioned 'Your future'. Darren saw a young man with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and clearly no future. Fuck! He grabbed his face and the reflection did the same. His skin, which had just been flawless for a man in his late 30s, was blemished. As if from too much alcohol and nicotine. And too little care. Maybe it was the remnants of acne, because the man in the mirror was younger than Darren. Maybe in his early 20s. Badly shaved. His hair styled in a preppy undercut. And he stank. That couldn't have come from his reflection. The jacket was made of cheap, badly tanned leather. Sweat. Cheap deodorant. Nicotine. His fingers smelled like those of a chain smoker. And his teeth were yellow like a chain smoker's. In a panic, Darren looked for the exit. He found himself behind the ghost train. There was a "Staff only" sign above the exit. Darren tried to open the door. He rattled the handle. A man opened it for him. Behind the door was a small staff room. The man asked if he wanted to apply for the position of young man to travel with the fair. Darren ran away in a panic.

Where to now? To the beer tent? What would his colleagues say? They wouldn't recognize him. He tried anyway. The bouncer turned him away. For invited guests only. Darren had an invitation. He used to have an invitation in the inside pocket of his jacket. Now he had an almost empty pack of filterless cigarettes and a battered Zippo. His wallet hung on a chain from his torn jeans. With a bit of cash. A ten-ride bus pass that was almost used up. And a driver's license. For big trucks and tractor-trailers. Bloody hell! He still had to be on this ghost train. It was better than he thought. But he didn't feel like it anymore. He wanted a shower and then to get into his silk pyjamas. But his car key was gone. And where his car had been, there was now a completely different one. He had to walk, Darren had no idea how he was going to get home on the bus and he didn't have the money for a cab.

He had been walking for almost half an hour when he finally got home. In the dark windows of his elegant old apartment on the mezzanine floor, the "For Sale" signs were covered with "Sold". The. Is. A. Cursed. Nightmare! Darren no longer had a key for anything. Not for this apartment that used to be his, not for a missing car, not for his office. He had no cell phone, he had the few things he had on his person. A nightmare! His worst nightmare! His biggest horror! Darren climbed over the fence. It was surprisingly easy. His new body was athletic. He had already noticed that on the way here. There was a Victorian summer house at the back of the garden that belonged to his apartment. And he always hid a key there. Under a flower pot. A flowerpot that no longer existed. Everything on the porch of the garden shed was an army duffel bag. With a rucksack in it, a tracksuit, underwear. Everything wasn't quite clean anymore. But it was obviously his. Darren picked up the duffel bag, walked over to the fence, threw the duffel bag over and climbed in after it. A policeman shouted "Freeze!" And Darren ran for his life.

It had taken him three quarters of an hour to get back to the fair with his duffel bag. No idea why he had come back here. A few drunks staggered out of the beer tents. Darren didn't recognize any of them as colleagues. Most of the rides were just closing. "Son, can you give me a hand?" Shouted an older gentleman struggling on the bumper cars. "A few dollars, a bowl of soup, and by the look of you, you could use a place to sleep." Darren took a deep breath, grabbed his duffel bag and helped the man push the bumper cars together and lock them up.

The first few days were hell. Darren wasn't used to physical labor, even though his body was. The little money he earned was enough for cigarettes and pre-paid cards for a cell phone. And the guys he had to share the trailer with snarled and stank. But Darren probably snarled too. And he certainly did stink. The only thing he enjoyed was sex. Plenty of sex. Apparently there were lots of girls and boys, young and old, who liked the fairground rebel type. Darren had stopped counting how many cocks he had sucked between the frames of the rollercoaster, how many asses and pussies he had fucked. Sometimes for free. Sometimes for a handful of dollars. He could put that money to good use. A buddy had a booth at the fair where he did tattoos. Real works of art. Of course Darren got a special price. But even among the bros here at the fair, nothing was for free. The first few days went by. The first weeks went by. Darren, who everyone had long since just called Daz, had gained routine in building and dismantling "his" rollercoaster. The other guys who helped out here were runaways, vagrants… They were usually gone again after a few days. Not Daz. This was his home. This was his family. He loved his job. And he was damn good at it.

When Daz took over the management of the small fairground company with a rollercoaster, a bumper car and a lottery booth a few years later, nobody was surprised. Daz belonged here. Always in a good mood, always ready to help. And always horny!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #tank top #age reduction #leather tf #white to blue collar tf #ai image

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mystar-girl57 · 2 years ago

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𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐦

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Pairing: widowed!jake sully x fem reader

Warnings: reader has Thalassophobia (phobia of oceans/deep and large bodies of water), violence, quaritch, character death

Comments: God I cannot believe that we are almost at the end this was so hard for me to write

A scream ripped from your throat as you were yanked back on board and thrown to a near by wall. You fell to the ground in a pile. You looked around your eyes were up focaused and echoey footsteps ringed in your ears. You could just barely make out the black boots that sauntered to you before a hand reached down and picked you up by your neck.

It was Quaritch.

“Looks like Sully got himself a new lady now. I always figured it was the one from before, Neytiri, is that what they called her?” You hissed and thrashed in his grasp making Quaritch grin. “Aw, was she important to you sweet heart?” He taunted, tightening his grip on your throat. “She died and up and left you with her litter I take it.”

You growled making Quaritch laugh. “I saw how you got Z-Dog killed, had her pined down and crushed by that whale thing. But now?” He shook you, “You as stuck as a dumb dolly.” He spoke to you in broken Na’vi switching back and forth to English and while you did not understand all that he said, you knew his words were meant to insult you.

Quaritch dragged you back to an area near the opening of the ship where Kiri stood captive and Tuk too. “Girls!” You cried out, then struggled more in his grasp. It was one thing for him to insult the dead and make you feel small, it was another when he hurt your girls. “Let them go!” You hissed as he set you down and handcuffed your hands behind your back. You wriggled trying to get out of his hold but you knew it was no use. Quaritch gripped your bicep dragging you closer to the front and away from Kiri and Tuk. The girls screamed out for you but there was nothing you could do.

When you got to the edge of the ship’s mouth it was well into the water as it sank. The tiny waves lapped at your toes and you instinctively moved back. Quaritch chuckled at your actions. “So they weren’t kidding when they said there was a hydrophobic na’vi among you savages. With how in touch with nature you are I thought you would’ve called the waves to save you at this point.” He sneered.

But his taunts fell on deaf ears when you looked out across the water at a flat rock peeking up over the water. Jake was there, Lo’ak and Tsireya too, but what concerned you the most was the body laying there. You watched Spider pulling Jake away from the body and into the water coming toward you.

“Here comes Papa,” Quaritch smirked, tearing your choker mic off your neck and holding it close to his lips. “Come on Jake. You’ve already lost one wife and now your boy along with it.” He yanked your queue pulling an involuntary scream from your lips before proceeding to kick you in the back of your leg forcing you to your knees. “You wanna lose another one.” As he said he realized what he was doing, he was luring Jake in so he could kill him.

“Do not bother.” You spat in broken English , your voice strained from your screams. “He does not care about me. I am not his wife, you are wasting your time.” Quarich simply pulled your queue back harder in response, his eyes staying on Jake waiting for him to come up out of the water.

You sat there on your knees beside the recom na’vi for what felt like an eternity. Blood caked your body from the scratches littering your body and from the splatters of your victims. Your breathing was labored and your hope was slipping. For the first time in years you closed your eyes and muttered a small prayer to your great mother. You did not ask her to forgive you of your sins, you were past that point. You asked her to protect your children, protect Jake, and if you were to die to let it be a noble death.

Soon little splashes echoed behind you causing Quaritch to turn around quickly, almost breaking your neck as he did since he was still holding your head back by your bread. You were too tired at this point to even scream. “Where are ya’ Jake?” He called, his voice ricocheting off the walls of the seemingly empty space. “Don’t cha’ know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”

You knew Jake was here, you could feel his angry gaze looking down on you both from above. For once you felt a sense of relief washing over you at his presence. As if on cue there was an echo of “GET DOWN!” followed by an explosion. The sound of the blast tore through your ear drums making you pull back. Fire errupoted around you, the grays and blues that surrounded you morphing into an angry red.

“Let her go Quaritch!” Jake’s voice barked making you and the Colonel look up to see Jake standing there. His ears were back and his tail lashing violently showing his anger. Cuts littered his body, the blood on him fresh. You knew it wasn’t his. “Ah! About time you showed up, figured with one wife dead in the ground you’d be quicker to come after this one.” Quaritch sneered making you hiss. With Jake here you found a new energy in you, more determination to escape. “This is between you and me. She has nothing to do with this.” Jake snarled.

Quaritch shook his head with a laugh, “You think she’s the only one on here? Got two of your brats back there too. Don’t think you wanna lose another kid today.” You stopped thrashing hearing his words and slowly tilted your head up to him. What did he just say? Quaritch noticed your look, a sick grin forming on his face. “Oh did you not hear Mama bear?” He grapped your jaw and forced you to look back at the rock where the body laid limp. “There lays your eldest. Team or whatever the fuck you savages called him.”

You turned your head the best you could Jake, your eyes begging for him to refute Quritch’s words but when Jake looked away a cry tore from your throat. Neteyam, your Neteyam was dead. You screamed your son’s name in pure agony that even Ewya might have felt a smidge of guilt. Seeing your display of pain made Quaritch laugh as he let go of you and shoved you harshly to the wet floor. He stepped over you, causually making his way to Jake.

“You lost soldier. It’s time to come in.” Quaritch reached behind his body to his back pocket and pulled out the reflective orange snap cuff. “Cuff yourself.” He ordered with a growl, any sign of mockery had left his voice. The band fell to Jake’s feet with a soft clatter but the motion was so powerful. He looked between you on the floor and Quartich standing in front of him, what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to fight and risk it all, your life and his surviving kids' lives, the lives of the Metkayinan clan members that let them live in the village though they were outsiders. Or did he give in, admit defeat and let the damage fall on him.

“Now Corporal!” Quaritch hissed, pulling his knife out and aiming it at you. With one easy throw he could catch you in the side and you would bleed out like Neteyam in a matter of moments. “You son of a bitch!” Jake tried to hiss but it came out as a groan of distress as he picked up the cuff and snapped it to one side of his wrist. Quaritch grinned at the sight, letting his guard down and turning his back to you fully. He had finally won, he thought. After 15 long years he had finally won, it only took him going to hell and back but he won.

Then, it became deathly quiet and it became aparent to Quaritch and Jake that your wails could no longer be heard in the ship. Jake’s eyes widened in fear as he immediately assumed the worse. But when Quaritch turned around to look at you, both he and Jake were in shock to find that you weren’t there.

“Fuck!” Quaritch cussed, his moment of glory gone. It didn’t matter if Jake was in cuffs if you were still out there waiting to kill Quaritch. The military na’vi whorled around looking all around him from any sign of you and for the first time since he watched the video of his death back in the forest of Pandora, he felt scared.

He was back in the same setting all those years ago. Jake being in trouble and his wife hiding somewhere in the trees ready to fight for him. Panic bloomed in Quaritch’s chest but he did his best to ignore it. No, this time would be different, he promised himself. You weren’t in the forest, you were on a ship, a human ship, he had the upper hand. You did not know human technology, you hated it, you could not use it to your advantage, he tried to convince himself.

Jake stood behind him, his hands cuffed and his ears perked. He could hear you looking around on the catwalk just above him. There was a soft rattle and he knew you were searching for something followed by a ‘click.’ ‘There is no way’ he thought, realizing what you were doing. You despised Jake’s gun despite him dressing it to blend in with the rest of the Na’vi’s weapons, there was no way you were getting one of your own that went against all your morals. Then again, Jake came to think, if he had learned one thing about the na’vi since coming to Pandora, that the women were much more dangerous than the men, especially when provoked with the welfare of their young. He listened out for you quietly padding along the catwalk above him and he was thankful Quaritch hadn’t been taught to look out for such minuscule things in his surroundings. Jake just hoped you didn’t pick the biggest gun there was.

“Alright Sully where the fuck is she!” Quaritch demanded, rounding on the man. Jake snapped back to his senses and he took a moment to look Quaritch over. His breaking was quick and shallow, sweat began to trickle down his brow, his yellow eyes were blown wide. He was scared. Jake didn’t respond right away because out of the corner of his eye right behind Quaritch he could see three figures swimming twoards the boat. His kids. “Shit.” Jake cussed out loud by mistake and he quickly snapped his gaze away not wanting Quaritch to see them. Quaritch let out a roar of frustration and grabbed his knife holding it to Jake’s throat. “Tell me where she is!”

A gun shot rang out in response to his yell and both men ducked. They slowly turned to see the fresh bullet hole in the wall on the other side of them and when Quaritch looked to see where the shot had come from he saw you duck down dropping the gun. “Bingo.” He grinned, the adrenaline coursing through him masking his fear.

Quaritch let go of Jake and took off after you. One he was away the water splashed around the mouth of the ship as it sunk lower into the sea. Lo’ak and Tuk struggled to get up but when they did they instantly ran over to their father. Lo’ak pulled his hunting knife out and cut his father’s restraints. “I told Tuk to stay but she wouldn’t listen and we don’t know where Kiri is!” Lo’ak said quickly but Jake shook his head. “Son its fine, right now i need to go get your mother and you two get off the ship!” He began to ran down the hall but Tuk protested grabbing his hand. “I want to help mom!” Jake bit back his curses and tried to pry Tuk off him as calmly as possible. “This isn’t up for discussion Tuktirey. Go.” This time, he didn’t wait to listen to his daughter and continued down the dark hall.

It got darker as he went and groans echoed throughout the ship. It was going to go under soon, Jake figured, which meant he needed to at least get you out. The sound of shouts and metaling ringing started to get loud as he neared the end of the hall and he saw your body go across the room before you went back to the other side with your knife out. He quickened his pace to a run and when he got to the room, Quaritch was holding his arm, blood spewing from an open wound while you stood a few feet away hissing, too distracted by your anger to notice the water pooling around your ankles

Jake entered and sent a punch to Quaritch’s jaw knocking, making him fall into the water with a splash. “It’s over Quaritch!” Jake seethed, looking down at the man. “Your ship is sinking and your crew has abandoned you, you’ve lost!” Quaritch said nothing and Jake turned away with a huff coming over to you.

You were still dazed coming off your angry high. You didn’t even realize Jake was with you until he gingerly touched your face and you flinched. “Easy, easy baby.” He soothed, moving his fingers so his palm cupped your face. “It’s just me.” He whispered and you choked out a sob leaning into his hand while he pulled you closer to his body with his free hand.

The ship let out another groan and everything began to turn. You let out a yelp as your feet slipped out from underneath you and you were pulled by the water into a whirlpool formed by the water being sucked in through an open doorway.

“Shit!” Jake gasped lunching to grab you but a hand wrapped around his ankle making him fall onto his chest and you slipped out of his grip, carried downstream. “Gotcha!” Quaritch cried out in triumph and Jake let out a snarl. For once he decided to not think, to let his heart decide instead of his brain. He did what would benefit himself over everyone else and right now that was getting you. Using the heel of his foot Jake slammed down onto Quaritch’s nose making the Colonel reel back in pain, letting go of his ankle. Once he was free Jake let the current take him following you deeper into the ship and the room that he left Quaritch in collapsed.

You were panicking as the water carried you, not giving you even a second to try to grab onto something to stop its pull. It was just like the river when you were eight, carrying you away as punishment for your actions. You should have never snuck out of camp when you were eight and you should never have thought you could protect your family now.

The sound of your heart's quick unsteady beats filled your ears and you started to pant. There was no way you were getting out of this you thought. You had been lucky the past two times. Payakan saving you from the soldiers, Jake coming after you with Quaritch. But now, you were alone.

The dim lights flickered off as the ship fully capased and its inner electrical workings were deemed useless against the water.

Suddenly the current sped up and it sent you down into a dark hole. You fell for a few seconds before splashing down into an infinite darkness. There was no light in here, even the water did not dare to move. You felt suffocated in small space as your freckles barely glimmered in here, their attempts to shed any light was futile.

Just as you were going to give into hopelessness the waterfall surged above you and a loud yell sounded only to be cut short as the owner of the scream splashed down beside you. “Jesus Christ!” The figure spat standing up in the water, looking up from where they just fell, not yet noticing you. The moment you heard its voice, his voice you let out a cry of joy. “Jake!” You wrapped your arms around him feeling released to no longer be alone in the rising water. “Baby?!” Jake gasped feeling your arms around his abdomen and he did not hesitate to hug you back, picking you up slightly. His freckles showed bright and you were able to see his eyes. Tears welled in your eyes and you held back a sob. “The kids,” you whispered, “They, they,” Jake quieted you with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry, don’t worry they are going to be fine.” He hid his face into your hair, breathing in your scent, feeling your skin, holding onto you for dear life. Jake whispered your name like a prayer as if he were to stop he’d forget it entirely. It was in here, stuck in this ship at the bottom of the ocean with the water getting ready to swallow you hole that he realized: he loved you.

He loved you so much.

“Look at me,” Jake whispered gently, pulling you away from him and cupping your face so your eyes met his. “We are going to get out of this.” He promised. “We are going to get out of here and go back to our kids.”

Jake kept talking, trying to distract you from the water slowly rising, it was at your forearms now and with how much shorter you were to him you would be under by the time it was to his shoulders.

But you already knew the water was getting close to your mouth and you knew there was no way out of this. You felt oddly calm, there was no fear in you, you were not flailing, clawing your way up trying to get out of the water, you accepted defeat. You had already lost your friend, a sister, your home and now you had lost your son. If it was your time you would accept it. There was no more running from Ewya you decided, you were going to face her head on this time, turn around and throw your curses to the wind knowing each word would ping off her face like a speck of dust. It was no more fighting this. Each time you made her angry, each time the thunder would rumble when you and Jake would argue, each time you ignored her calls and beckons, they all lead to this moment. She had enough of you and your antics and now it was time to suffer the consequences and you would rather do it alone, not pull Jake into it.

You did not hate him like you had claimed that night of the party. You loved him, you loved him with all your soul, body and being. You had killed for him, lied for him, cursed at Ewya for him.

A weak chuckle escaped your throat. “You know all this time even from the moment I met you I have tried to hate you.” Your words make Jake look down at you, your freckles now illuminating the water as you spoke, they seemed to grow brighter. “Neytiri would not stop grinning telling me about you completing your Iknimaya. She changed so much when you arrived and for the better. No longer was she worried about being mated to Tsu’tey and betraying Sylwanin; she was smiling and laughing like how we used to when we were young. It was the first time I had seen her be so happy since that day at the school. She came to me telling me about wanting to mate with you and when she was expecting Neteyam I was the first one she told. “There were so many firsts that she told me. Neytiri was not just a friend, she was my sister. And that day,” You sighed tearfully, the water reaching your shoulders and your loose hair growing yet. “that day that you came back to camp with her in your arms I vowed to hate you forever. I blamed you not the sky people, and when Ewya ordered us to be mated my hatred only grew and it blinded me, controlled me.” You shook your head wiping a stray tear that slid down your cheek before looking up at Jake who had tears falling himself. “I see you.” You whispered. “And I am sorry.”

The water was up to your chin and it was getting hard for you to stay up. Jake wrapped his arms around you and held you up higher, your foreheads together. “I see you.” He whispered back. “And I’m sorry too. I am so sorry for all that I have done over the years to you, to the kids. I was mad as well and I had no right to take it out on you.”

“I guess we both fucked up pretty good then?” You suggested and Jake couldn’t help but laugh hearing your broken English, and a human curse at that. “I guess we did.” He nodded, putting his nose to yours. You realized then why you weren’t scared of the water as you had been before; it was Jake. You felt safe in his embrace, you knew he was going to do his best to keep you up and not let you drown. “If we get out of here,” Jake began but you corrected him “When.” “Right, when we get out of here, let’s go out for the night, start over? What do you say?” You looked down at him, your freckles glowing bright and you genuinely smiled at him. You leaned down close, your lips brushing. “That sounds like a dream.”

Just before you could close the space there was a burst of color coming from underneath you as the whole space lit up. Glowing fish pooled around your legs swooping around you, tickling your legs. Then, Kiri popped in through a gap in the wall near the floor in front of you. There was a creature connected to her back that flowed with the water giving the illusion that she had wings. A grin broke out on her face at the sight of you and you could not help but laugh, tears rushing down your face at the sight of your daughter. “Kiri!” Letting go of Jake you hugged your daughter tightly as she stood up and she hugged you too. “Mom! Dad!” Jake came over and embraced the two of you. “Oh it's so good to see you are alright.” She sighed with relief as you pulled away. “I know a way out but it's a long swim.” Your heart started to fall at her words as fear filled you once more but her smile was unwavering. “But Mom, I have some things to help you.”

Kiri reached behind her, detaching her queue from the creature and gently grabbed yours connecting it. A rush of air went through you and it felt as though Ewya had blessed you with a set of new lungs. “This will help you breathe in the water,” Kiri explained, putting the animal on your back and it wrapped its malleable arms around you as if giving you a hug. “And this little guy would not take no for an answer when I said he could not come.”

You looked at her confused but then an Ilu’s head popped up out of the water. “Lepay!” You cried and your ilu let out clicks of joy as you hugged his neck. The boat began to shake and the four of you looked up, that was your cue to leave. “Follow the fish Mom,” Kiri called as you got onto Lepay’s back, “Dad and I are right behind you!”

You did not need to form tsaheylu for Lepay to understand where you needed to go and what was going on. He understood that you were injured and scared as you flowed through the water. He was quick but smooth, doing his best to not throw you off, sending reassuring clicks to you every so often. The feeling of the creature on your back gently squeezing you also helped calm your nerves as you went through the submerged ship.

Soon you were free from the boat and Lepay tilted upward, breaking the water as your head came up. Fresh air filled your lungs and it felt your freedom had returned. You burst out in tears, laughing and crying as you hugged Lepay thanking him. The ilu happily squeaked in response and you reached behind you gently taking your queue away from the creature on your back. “And thank you,” you whispered to it, before setting it into the water and watching it swim away.

Not far behind you the water broke with two splashes and Jake and Kiri popped up. Jake gasped for air as you guided Lepay over to him, tsaheylu now connected between the two of you. Reaching down you grabbed Jake’s bicep helping him up onto the Ilu and the man coughed lazily putting his arms around you breathing you in.

You two were alive, you were safe and you were free. “We did it,” he whispered into your hair and you nodded, gripping his hand and looking up at the rising sun “We did indeed.”

The funeral music sounded behind you setting the post war melancholy atmosphere for the evening. You hated this moment. Out of the entire battle, almost getting killed, watching your children be beaten and bruised, this moment you hated the most.

Neteyam looked peaceful in the raft, if you did not know any better he looked like he was sleeping. You were taken back to all those years ago at Neytiri’s burial ritual but unlike hers you were the one laying the body down alongside Jake. Both of you were decorated in white funeral paint, the pigment defining all of your cuts and blemishes that you had not bothered to attend to from the battle that occurred yesterday.

The clan stood along the beach, their touches lit and their choirs softly singing. Lo’ak held onto Tuk while Spider and Kiri sat together on an Ilu. You stopped Lepay, who carried Neteyam when you got over the glowing grove. It was a deep dive, deeper than you had ever done. Jake gently slipped his son off the raft, the ocean flowers slipping into the water with him. Jake looked at you as you swam over. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He whispered but you cut him off with a tsk. “He is my son Jake. For him, any of them I would fight Ewya herself.”

You both took a deep breath before going under and taking Neteyam’s body down with you. You tried to not focus on the water around you, instead you kept your eyes on the glowing tendrils that slowly reached their way up to you as you got closer. They wrapped around Neteyam’s ankle and wrist and gently took him from your grasp. You watched as they pulled him down and covered him up glowing brightly. By the time that he had been completely consumed by the earth your lungs started to burn and Jake pulled on you, saying that it was time to go.

You casted one last look at the reef before kicking up towards the surface. Neteyam would always be there with you no matter where you went, just as Neytiri has even with you being away from the forest. You knew this but it did not make it any easier. No parent should outlive their child, they were there to welcome them in birth, not bid them goodbye in death. But your people did not believe in death, this was simply moving on, going to better things.

You would see him one day, Neytiri too. But not for a long while. You had found a reason to live again, it took a slap in the face for you to open your eyes but they were open now. Open wide and gleaming, ready to see what Ewya was going to throw at you next.

🏷: @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @newjeansbonnie @cleverzonkwombatsludge @atxara @jakesully-sbabygirl @ducks118 @ssc7514 @squidalapobre @anxietydrogz @myheartfollower @misscaller06 @itzyahgirllkita1 @saltedcoffeescotch @eskamybeloved @agustdeeyaa @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @julijal @supercoolusernamesblog @iamparou @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @idcalol @eternallyvenus @zoetrope1997 @itssomeonereading @farleyis @k0la22 @bigdikzaddy

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xmenwickedgame · 5 months ago

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Isn’t this the plot of the X-men movies?

i love it when characters are codependent. i love it when losing someone feels like losing a limb. i love it when two people "complete" each other so wholly and terribly that one can barely function without the other. i love it when the fear of losing the only person who understands them is so all-consuming they'll destroy anything to stay together, including themselves.

#Aksjdkska #cherik #ship: cherik #;-;#children of the broken queue

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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˗ˏˋ꒰ 📖 ꒱ BOOKSTORE BOY

Armin x fem!reader

Chapter index / Chapter Ⅴ

Overview; you and Armin slowly grew closer, kissing in the aisles and inviting him over to your apartment. Just the two of you.

Content; fluff

TAGLIST; @sad-darksoul @ringsofsaturnnnn @underthetree845

DM in my askbox to be added to taglists! 💕

Sharing that kiss with you put a smile on Armin's face for the rest of the month. Every day as he scurried around the bookstore, ringing up customer's purchases and shelving away books, he traced his fingertips over his lips and thought of you.

When you and him stole upstairs to the cafe for your book dates, he looked at you with a brighter light in his eyes. Slowly he became less socially awkward around you, and he even stopped having stuttering spells.

He was really warming up to you. He was becoming a friend. A good friend. Well, actually, more than a friend; that was evident when you and him secretly kissed in the secluded poetry aisle.

A pattern formed.

You'd stride into the bookstore, greet him at the cashier and ask "Are there any new arrivals?" and that was his queue to take you to the classics section so that he could show you the books he had recently shelved. Both of your feet would slowly wander to other aisles as you let an enrapturing conversation engulf you, the books lost your attention and blended with the environment.

Then your words trailed off, and he'd give longing glances to your lips a few times.

Armin seemed to adore pecking your lips while cupping your cheeks. Sometimes his hands slid to the back of your head and nestled in your hair. And he always pulled you closer, closer, until you were chest-to-chest in the back of the bookstore.

"Oh my god, it's half-past already?" Armin said, "I've gotta get back to work..." he said, reluctantly prying his hands from your sweet cheeks.

"M'kay, I'll be browsing. You're getting off early today, it's Friday right?" you asked.

Armin nodded, "Yeah."

"Wanna come over?" you asked.

Armin blinked, "Huh? What?" he seemed either taken aback or confused, you couldn't judge which.

"I mean, come over to my place. I've already been to your house a few times, y'know. Have you ever been in the newer city apartments?"

"No, not really. My friend Eren used to live in one on Ochre street, but he moved with his girlfriend to those apartments that line the riverbank. Y'know, the fancy ones?"

You scrunched your nose. "I hate that area, it's full of snobbish people."

Armin chuckled. "Really?"

"Anyways, so do you want to come?" you asked.

He nodded excitedly. "I'd love to, I mean, if it doesn't feel like an intrusion to you."

"Oh, Armin, why would it feel like an intrusion? Besides, I'm the one who invited you." you said laughingly.

"Right..." he blushed a bit, and pulled his shoulders together.

You swore that he spun on his heel like a ballerina when he left to continue working. Well, 'working'. It was a slow day and the most of his work was fixing broken shelves and organizing the children's book section.

"Let's go, loverboy." you said, greeting Armin outside after he finally got off work.

"Loverboy?" he blushed. "I like that."

The two of you began to walk quickly down the blocks to beat the coming thunderstorm.

"I think, actually, dreamboy would be better suited for you, since you've got that olden-day dreaminess about you. Y'know, like those men in those movies from the fifties." you said.

"I'd have to disagree." Armin chuckled. "And, anyways, I don't like movies from the fifties, if I'm being honest. The actors feel disingenuous."

"Really! I love 'em. They're so comforting to watch on rainy days." you said.

A moment later, the clouds let out a drizzling rain. You and Armin laughed down the street, ignorant of the world around you, completely in your own love bubble. Any passer-by could see that he was in love with you.

The drizzling rain turned to a complete downpour, so you and Armin rushed to your apartment.

You were giggling about something, probably about the fact you two were completely soaked. No, drenched. Your socks even got wet, completely soaked through. Your top was clinging to you, Armin's sweater felt the weight of the water.

When you fumbled with the key and your apartment door, Armin leaned against the wall to support his body; he was losing it laughing.

"I promise, this is my home, and this usually doesn't happen." you said, trying again. You kicked the bottom of the door, and then it unlocked.

"Worked like magic." Armin commented.

"I'm adaptive, aren't I?" you beamed, opening the door and motioning him inside.

"Very." he nodded, following you inside like a wet puppy.

You sighed the sigh you always do when you return to the comforts of your home. Armin looked curiously at your furnishings, admiring how your décor reflected your aura.

After dropping your keys onto the entryway's end-table, you squeezed the wetness out of your hair.

"God, it's cold." you commented, and then said something that made Armin blush until his cheeks were searing hot. "D'you wanna shower?"

"What? I – oh, you mean to get warm?" he stuttered, "Sure."

"What else would I have meant?" you teased.

He gulped and shrugged innocently.

Armin showered first, and he did so very briefly. He emerged warm, feeling fluffy, and when you went to shower yourself and freshen up alone, he tamely explored your apartment.

He peeked into your bedroom, and when he glanced at your bed, his mind raced with many thoughts. But he stopped himself, like someone quickly stops the flow of water out of a bottle with a cork.

The door to your study was wide open, so he went in, and his eyes went big. He felt like he was in his grandfather's library; it was wall-to-wall books. They were even piling up on the floor due to lack of shelf space.

His attentive gaze lingered on the book laid on your desk. It was a novel that he'd recommended to you; it seemed you were halfway through it already. That made him feel good, and he smiled to himself while browsing your library.

"You like it?" your voice suddenly sounded at the door. He jumped and turned to face you.

"Yeah, it reminds me of my grandfather's library... I feel like a little kid again." he said. His eyes swept the room admiringly, then he nodded to the book on your desk. "Are you enjoying it so far?"

You nodded enthusiastically, "It's kinda terrifying, but I love it."

"Sorry, I should have warned you. Lovecraft writes quite horrifying stuff." he chuckled.

"Have you read (...) yet?" you asked eagerly.

Armin blushed. "Oh... well, yes I finished it but I forgot to tell you."

You looked at him, impressed.

"You read all that in three days?"

"Actually, two."

"Good grief, Armin, you're a book eater."

He sighed amusedly at you, "I got nothing on my grandfather. He's the real speed-reader." he said.

You plucked a book from the shelf and opened it. When you playfully hid behind it, he laughed and asked what on earth you were doing.

"I'm hiding. You'll never find me within these two-hundred pages." you joked.

Armin came closer to you and lowered the book. "Found you." he said, his tone lower and almost sensual. "Not a very good hiding place. I recommend hiding in Crime and Punishment next time. It's five-hundred pages."

Your eyes met his. Because he had lowered his voice into a near-murmur, so did you. "D'you want to – um..." you trailed off.

Armin felt his heart beat faster. "Hm?"

You changed what you were about to say at the last minute, and the both of you knew it. "D'you want to have some coffee?" you asked.

His eyes stared through to your soul. He looked so pretty right then.

"Of course. I'd love some coffee" he said.

While brewing a strong coffee for Armin, he sat at the kitchen counter writing.

You weren't sure if it was a letter or a poem, but whichever, he seemed to be putting a lot of thought into it.

"Sugar?" You asked.

Armin looked up in surprise because for a split second he thought you were calling him sugar. "Oh, yes please, two."

"Two? Wow, you're a pretty sweet boy." You flirted with him. He chuckled and lowered his gaze.

A long silence passed wherein you languidly stirred two sugars into his coffee, and he scratched his quill pen on the paper. He stopped and looked contemplatively at what he had written. He seemed dissatisfied.

"What's the matter?" You asked.

Armin frowned. "I just haven't written poetry in a while. It's so stale..." he said self-consciously.

"Doesn't it just have to rhyme and then it's good? I don't know. I've never read poetry, except for that book you recommended." you shrugged.

"Well, there's a bit more to it than rhyming..." he said, then looked hard at his work. "This is bad." he said decidedly.

"Let me read it." You said, "I'll be the judge."

Armin smiled a little and handed the paper to you. He pulled his cup of coffee closer to him and sipped it while you read. He felt this growing nervousness as you read; what were you thinking? You seemed captivated by what he wrote, but Armin couldn't tell if it was positively or negatively.

"Armin," you began, "this is really good. Like, really good."

Armin clicked his tongue in disbelief.

"I mean it! Armin, you write like a real olden day poet. It's beautiful. You should be proud, not just anyone can do that."

He gave you a bashful smile. "Well, if you're saying that, I'll believe it I guess."

"Can I keep this?" You ask, clutching his letter to your chest. His heart swooned at that.

"Yeah, of course. But... I'll write you many more poems in the future, anyways." He smiled.

The two of you looked at each other for a long while, as if entranced. There were questions Armin wanted to ask; about you, about your life, about your past. Did you once love someone? Is it all new to you like it is to him? Would you be amused if he told you that you're his first love?

"Y/n," he said your name thoughtfully, "have you ever had a lover before?"

You tilted your head at him and didn't answer immediately, because you were half wondering why he would ask that.

"I have, but just two. The first broke my heart terribly, I was in pieces for years, and the second... well, that was hardly a lover at all. There was no connection between us." you said honestly. Armin listened attentively. Part of him felt childishly jealous that you'd already experienced love before him. "What about you?" you asked him, "have you ever had a lover before?"

Armin looked at you with those big blue eyes. He always had that adoring puppy-like look around you.

He seemed frozen in place for a while, but finally answered. "No, I haven't. You're my – uh..." he trailed off shyly.

"Really?" you replied in surprise. "I'm your first?"

"Yeah." he made a small smile. "You're my first."

"It's an honor." you smiled.

Armin fixed his eyes on his coffee, which had gone cold and he had only taken one sip, because when he talks with you he becomes so absorbed that he forgets about everything else in the world.

"I really like you." he said. "Sorry if I come off as childish or clingy sometimes, it's just... I've never had this before. Developing this relationship with you feels like... it feels like starting your favorite book, before knowing it's going to be your favorite book."

You looked at him in adoring silence. "So poetic." you mused.

He had an embarrassed smile, one so cute that you felt compelled to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He wasn't prepared for that at all, so he receded into a shyness that reminded you of how he used to be in the beginning.

"Wanna read with me on the bed? It's cold out here." you offered.

Armin felt his cheeks heat up a little. "Sure."

So you did read, sitting side by side together on your bed, which was tucked into the corner next to the window. The rain was consistently battering the pane, so after your insisted, Armin agreed to stay overnight at your place.

You were fully engulfed by your book's plot, but Armin was only pretending to read; he was too excited, too in a daze of love to actually pay attention to the words on the page.

Instead of being interested in what the character in his book was doing, he was interested in what you were doing.

Although your book had your attention, your eyes became sore with tiredness. So you closed them, thinking that you'll rest just for five seconds and then magically feel rejuvenated.

But actually you fell right asleep.

"Y/n?" Armin called your name softly.

Your head fell to rest on his shoulder, and he had no idea what to do about that. His heart was racing.

"Y/n?" he called your name again, almost in a whisper, while looking at you.

You mumbled sleepily in response. With careful movements, Armin pulled up the blanket that laid across yours and his feet, and draped it over you.

"Sleep well, my sweet love." he said, and confidently kissed the top of your forehead.

#˗ˏˋ꒰ 📖 ꒱ Bookstore Boy #🐬Ocean Prince #fluff #armin #armin arlert #armin aot #snk #aot #armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #armin oneshot #armin x you #armin x y/n #wholesome #cute #armin fluff #armin arlert x you

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 11 months ago

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

Master List

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was well enough. Roderick had his own plans.

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

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

“So, you see things?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the man who isn’t a man?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where he might very well invest it, actually.

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

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

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

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

A miserable day to travel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have money for a cab?”

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

“No, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she was almost there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wobbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Magus,” he corrected.

“Thank you, Magus, sir.”

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

“Yes, Magus.”

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

“Just the train ticket, sir. Magus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

#morpheus x reader #fic: persephone's devotee #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless x oc #fic: hello mr. monster

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 6 days ago

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Thinking about Gale Dekarios as a Dad

A/N: Is this self indulgent? Yes, but we're on the cringe website, so who cares. As always thanks to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble.

So first things first, this is more centered around my thoughts about Gale becoming a father to my Single Mom!Tav's (Gwen) daughter Clara and eventually their daughter Morgan. But, I think this can apply to Gale being a father in general

Just imagine Gale getting hit with the triple whammy on not only does he want to live, not only is he more than willing to remain a mortal man in order to be with Gwen, but doing so also means he has a new responsibility of being a father to Clara

Once Gale decides he's going to do something, he does not half ass it

He may not be confident in his ability as a father, but damn it he's going to try

Queue him finding every book on parenting he can and going to Gwen constantly for advice (and assurance he's not completely fucking this up)

He, of course, ends up having to throw most of it out since Gwen was 100% right and most of it is just improvisation, but he did need some base for security

I personally headcanon that his father wasn't in the picture so he doesn't exactly have an example of what a good father looks like

While to do think Gale would still teach in Waterdeep, that man is using a dimension door to get to class because he's moving in with Gwen and Clara

Clara has her own friends and a small community Gwen found when she was first on her own raising her; this is more about just Gale and Gwen being together, it's about them being a family, so not forcing Clara to move is a part of it

Once things are more secure between the three of them they may move, but not for a while (or even after Morgan is born)

Any way you slice it, Gale and Clara get time to bond before he and Gwen walk down the isle

Clara is a very curious kid and the type come home with whatever frogs or cool sticks she found, her boots caked in mud and twigs in her hair

Gale absolutely encourages her and gives her books on essentially any subject she's even mildly interested in

Gwen has walked in more than once to the pair of them info dumping to each other in a continuous loop until interrupted by dinner and even then food won't stop Clara

Teachers quickly discovered that calling in Gale when Clara lands herself in trouble is also a very bad idea

Gale: I expressed an opinion. Clara is a very curious young girl and I don’t think it’s too much to ask a teacher to encourage that curiosity. Teacher: She also happened to be in grade six and certain questions are inappropriate for such a setting. Gale: The subject of undead, although taboo, is still a valid school of study if one approaches it with care. Teacher: Asking how long it takes for a body to rot to the point it can no longer be resurrected is not something an eleven year old should be asking!

Experiments in the kitchen! (with proper safety equipment of course)

Gale learning how to do Clara's hair because Gwen can't always be there to do it

Gale telling stories and illustrating them with minor illusions so sometimes Clara ends up more hyped up at bedtime than she should be

Even when she gets too old for bedtime stories, she slips into Morgan's room to listen to her dad

Also Gale totally gets a dad bod the longer he settles into domesticity and nobody (especially Gwen) is complaining about it

Honestly the first word Clara and Morgan think of when describing their dad is soft

For all his wizard prowess and verbosity, what he is first to them is their dad; the person with the soothing voice, kind eyes and comforting hugs

Morgan especially when she's little just clings to him

She seems to like his voice and he even sings to her on occasion; nothing concert worthy, but some broken lullaby his mother used to sing to him

Honestly now having children of his own, he has a new appreciating for both Gwen and his mother doing all this on their own

But back to Morgan for a moment; Gale is absolutely the type of person to have a full on conversation with a baby and respond to every babble with "yes you make an excellent point"

She end up with a very extensive vocabulary for a toddler

Gale can't wait until she can hold a proper conversation, if there is one thing Gale loves, it's talking to his kids

There's a moment where he’s in bed with Gwen and the girls sleeping between them, and he takes a moment to just soak it all in. It’s so much more than he thought his life would have been.

Even before the orb, he spent so much time chasing after his own ambition.

When Mystra came to him, he still wanted more, willing to abandon the material plane entirely, and for what? To sit at the feet of a goddess who could never truly care for him? To become a god himself? He’s almost ashamed at himself for ever wishing for those things in the first place. For wishing he could be something so cold and distant all for the sake of a power he could claim no use for except to prove that he could.

Morgan curls herself a little closer to him while Clara takes up the center of the bed, her still growing limbs just as tangled as her hair. He lets out a soft chuckle, giving Morgan a reassuring rub on her back and she settles back down. Gwen is just as much a mess as Clara. He can just spit a little bit of drool coming out of her mouth. Still she manages to keep an arm across her eldest, keeping her close even in sleep.

How could any power be worth more than this? What higher purpose could he have than to make sure his family is safe and loved?

I've got more stuff about Gale being a dad if you're curious (and Astarion being an uncle). Send me an ask if you want to read more! I've got a ton of stuff!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale dadkarios #dad!gale #bg3 headcanons #gale headcanons #single mom!tav #gwen x gale

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