#free-floating barrel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arctrooper69 · 6 months ago

Text

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 14:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Canon violence

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

The trip back to your small shuttle seemed to take twice as long.

“... yeah the shuttle’s still there…”

The subtle echo of voices and gear drifted across the rocky terrain and you froze. For a moment it disappeared and you’d almost convinced yourself that once again this moon was playing tricks on you.

A haggard, hacking cough sounded from around the corner where piles of slag leaned and stacked over each other creating some sort of natural shelter beside the mouth of yet another cavernous mineshaft.

You dove behind a large boulder. Kriff. Cid had said the planet was uninhabited.

Is someone else after the jewels too?

Cid hadn't mentioned that either. You were going to have a serious talk with her when you got back.

If I even make it back in one piece. You rubbed your aching shoulder. From the way this mission was going, you weren't sure just how intact you'd be.

This place is a death trap. At least I have the jewels. Hard part’s over.

The roving light of a headlamp flickered against the rocks before blinking out.

“Karabast!” came a growling curse, “Those kriffing rocks better be worth as much as you say they are, woman!”

“Relax, Nakan.” a female voice snapped, sounding exasperated. “You’ll get your money.”

Two other voices squabled further away.

“Enj! Rico! Get your asses over here!” the female shouted. She sounded human, or at least humanoid.

Crawling slowly, you peered through the cracks of the boulder, to get a better look.

A human woman paced the ground and a large Nikto crouched a few feet from the edge of a mineshaft beneath the craggy overhang of shale. Nakan, the woman had called him.

The ones she’d called Enj and Rico were Weequay - male and female. The female spat on the ground. “We’re wasting our time out here, Boss. There’s nothing here.”

“There will be!” The human crossed her arms, “You just have to trust me!”

The male Weequay said something that you couldn’t quite hear and she nodded. The Nikto got to his feet and followed the others as they continued to search for a different mine.

The voices faded off into the distance, but you waited a little longer before coming out of hiding.

Dust floated through the air, forcing itself deep into your lungs and you choked. Eyes watering, you instinctively reached, pulling the fabric of your shirt to cover your mouth and nose.

Even the air is getting worse. It burnt your lungs. Almost there.

A brief flash of alarmed confusion was the only warning before you found yourself violently acquainted with the ground once again, head forced into the dirt and arms wrenched painfully behind your back, drawing a pained squeal as air was forced from your lungs.

“Hey, boss! Look what I found!” Scaled hands dragged you to your feet, maintaining the iron grip that trapped your arms painfully behind you.

“Get off, asshole!” You spit dirt from your mouth, throwing your shoulders forward to try and yank yourself free.

A sudden click and your jaw snapped shut. The hot dedlanite barrel of a blaster burned into the skin of your forehead. Muscles stiffened as the woman from before brought the blaster down your face, resting it just below your chin, forcing it up so that she could see your face.

“Just when I thought my luck had run out!” she chuckled, “You look like shit and you know what that tells me?”

You glared.

She continued anyway, “That tells me that you’ve been spelunking around here. You find any shiny rocks?”

Any fear left in your worn out mind hardened to a spiteful anger.

Get your own shiny rocks, bitch. These are mine.

Despite the dryness of the air or how your lips cracked and screamed for relief, you spat. “Kriff off!”

Pain exploded from your cheekbone, radiating down your neck as she whipped the blaster without warning.

She slowly wiped the spit from her cheek. “Fine. We’ll do this your way then.”

She turned to one of the Weequays. “Search her. Take what you want then get rid of her.”

The Nikto merely grunted as you kicked your foot back, struggling to gain some semblance of control as he pulled already screaming shoulders ever tighter, binding your hands behind your back.

Nausea flooded passages already inhabited with the adrenaline fueled struggle. It made you dizzy.

A hand jerked the pouch from your belt, renewing the fight to aching muscles. You threw back your head, connecting with the face of the Weequay who’d stolen the stones from your belt. He cursed, dropping the stones, hands flying instinctively to his broken nose.

You reached desperately for the bag of jewels, fingers just barely brushing the fabric.

If I can’t have them, then you definitely can’t.

Another tremor rattled the ground and you watched with numb satisfaction as the small bag tumbled from the ledge into the abyss below.

The woman slammed your head into the ground once more and your vision went white.

“Go in there and get those damn stones!” she snapped over her shoulder, “I’ll take care of her myself!”

The ground began to rumble. A larger quake this time. Stones and dust were violently tossed into the air.

“Shit, just go! Get out!”

Everything was silent then, so slow that it felt as if you were floating - propelled from the edge not by a boot, but by a gentle wind.

***

The Marauder lay so peaceful after that mission.

The memory came to you suddenly as if you’d slipped into a dream, mind desperately grasping to cushion a cruel reality as you tumbled down into the dark.

Omega and Wrecker were laughing because a stray piece of Mantell Mix had landed directly in Tech’s unruly curls and stayed there unmoving. Tech had moved on into the cockpit, yet still that sticky sweet stayed put. It was only when Hunter could no longer keep the grin from his lips nor the laughter from his eyes, that he’d noticed.

That’s the part that played like a holofilm over and over again. The subtly raised eyebrow at Omega’s joyfully hidden giggles. That spark of laughter in eyes that had been serious for too long. The muscles that rippled along his neck and jaw as he held back laughter that soon broke loose and the way he breathed so easily again - momentarily free from the weight of an ever changing galaxy. He was happy.

Oh, what you would do to give him that once more.

I’m sorry, Hunter.

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

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @the-rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @ghostlyembassy @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023 @jedipoodoo @reader6898 @all-mights-babygirl @arcsimper5 @red-robin-yum08 @wintersnnowie @whore-of-many-hot-men @theeyesofasoldier @griffedeloup @starswhores @totallyunidentified @waytooldforthis78

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

166 notes · View notes

kayawolfhorse · 1 month ago

Text

Day 23 — Following

—☾—

The Sandcastle’s wooden door falls shut behind Grian with a solid thunk that seems to reverberate through the uncut hush. He gives the room a cursory sweep before he sheaths his sword and shucks off his chestplate, wincing as his bloody fingers catch against its leather straps.

“Right, then, let me see your ribs,” Grian tells Scar after his armor is tossed alongside his own.

“Oh, it’s no bother, I can handle it,” Scar says, waving a hand and heading further into the castle.

Grian catches him by the hem of his crimson-soaked shirt. Pausing, Scar turns to meet his eye.

“Let me see it,” Grian repeats. Smiling slightly, he adds, “Besides, are you really going to waste an opportunity to take your shirt off?”

The grin that splits Scar’s face is cheeky, and slightly crooked where one corner of his lip raises higher than the other. His sigh comes in a breath of faux-defeat as he shakes his head and says, “You’ve sold it to me. Where’d you want to do this?”

Grian leads Scar to the kitchen and sits him on the edge of the counter as he sifts around the barrels for supplies. In one he finds bandages; it takes him a few more to locate a potion of healing. He wets a rag in the sink and takes a moment to rinse his hands free of the grime and blood sunk into the marred flesh.

Straightening up, he assesses Scar’s side. The wound isn’t deep—Martyn’s arrow had managed an impressive graze, one sure to sting for a while, but Grian’s fairly confident on the relative safety of all of Scar’s organs.

He hands Scar the potion. “Shouldn’t need more than a sip. I’ll wrap this, alright?”

“Aye, aye.” Scar salutes and uncorks the bottle.

Scar’s tan skin is warm where Grian’s fingertips brush against it. The conversation they find themselves in while Grian dabs against the wound is blissfully stupid, and Grian gives Scar’s shoulder a light whack whenever he starts to laugh hard enough to disrupt his wrapping. After a few passes around Scar’s torso, the bandages are secure.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Scar says brightly. Plucking the roll from Grian’s grasp, he reaches out for him. “Now, your turn.”

“What?” Grian takes a step back and frowns. “I’m fine.”

Scar points. “Your hands.”

“Ah.” The burn has faded to a dull monotone at the back of Grian’s mind, like how one eventually filters out the cacophonous racket of a mob farm. “Haven’t been thinking of those.”

“I’ll think about them for you. Come here.”

Grian obeys, and at Scar’s gesture holds out his right hand, palm up. Scar is gentler than Grian could ever dream of being, and he near-cradles Grian’s hand in his own as he cleans and wraps it. The furnaces’ gentle crackle floats through the comfortable quiet, interrupted only by the occasional rattle or groan beyond the sandstone walls. Something hums in Grian’s chest.

The ordeal repeats for Grian’s other hand; when it’s bandaged, Scar gives it a light squeeze before he releases it.

“Thanks,” Grian says, softly, genuinely. It feels wrong to disrupt the silence with things as superfluous as words.

In a single step forward, Scar’s leaning into Grian’s space and his lips are pressed lightly against Grian’s forehead. Grian’s lungs are suddenly, suspiciously absent of the air he swears was just there, and it feels as though the sun itself has blossomed alight within him, casting rays between every sinew of his being. He wills his arms to remain at his sides.

“Goodnight, G,” Scar says, and his crooked smile is sweet. He heads for bed and Grian’s left standing in the glow of the kitchen alone. The supplies sit discarded along the counter. The furnaces burn low. Grian follows Scar to sleep.

#written yesterday but posted a wee late oh well #3rd life smp #grian #goodtimeswithscar #desert duo #scarian #<- to be interpreted at your own discretion. for ambiguious unlabeled secret third thing relationships the world #my writing #trafficfic #definitelynottober #definitelynottober2024

65 notes · View notes

dhampling · 10 months ago

Text

butter gn!reader, 2.5k

Astarion and his legendary beauty. Old hunting ground turned safe haven. A halo of well-aged tavern dust floats atop his perfect head in the sunlight and you couldn’t be more in love if you tried.

you and the vampire spend a short gloaming sun discussing marriage outside the Elfsong.

word count: 2,538

crossposted on AO3 HERE

read the tags and decide your fate!

He’s softer this evening and the room is fuzzy.

The smell of richly slow-roasted meats & seasonal field greens slapped up high on battered dishes and lathered with fresh salted butter, topped with baby mint, with window-grown rosemary; with truffle salts and crushed peppercorns. Red wine gravy. The open kitchen and the overworked barkeep with sweat glistening at his cheekbone.

Chalices lift from sticky dark tables, sleeves animated in shades of burgundy & emerald moving yellowed, peeling playing cards to chests. Hands joined in prayers of gratitude and glory. Extra chairs for those held close. Laughter; lilting as the bounce of those who whirl around the open floor to the sound of the bards, folding over in some giddy stupor and barreling back to the bar for more.

You nurse a now-warm pint of Balor Ale with eyes closed, calm in empty contemplation as the city smells and sounds wash over you. A late summertide tapestry.

Though people mill about the bar frenetically and the sounds from inside the Elfsong are as raucous as ever; it all knots together to form a sweet, almost melancholy ambience.

Nearby merchants bellow late-day deals on (mildly) heat-foetid produce. Peals of children laughing as they bomb through the cobbles.

Occasionally you’ll flit your lazy eyes open to find him amongst the throngs of people inside.

And in perfect view, he lounges on the back support of an open booth seat Karlach occupies.

Other party members dot similarly around the bar area and the wine flows free as the Chionthar among them. Legs crossed one over the other and cool hands coloured in late amber - one to support, the other to hold the stem of an ‘aged’ Rosymorn Firewine which threatens to spill a little overside as his arm moves in conversation.

From this angle he’s captured beautifully in the gloaming tenday light and from his slightly straightened poise it’s clear he knows that you’re watching for him.

A voyeur.

He’d question your intent, right by your ear, in a sing-song voice so sinfully rich it’d go straight to your head; before chortling in that one silly way he knows never fails to make you smile and capturing you - his darling dearest - in a kiss for the ages.

Astarion and his legendary beauty. Old hunting ground turned safe haven. A halo of well-aged tavern dust floats atop his perfect head in the sunlight and you couldn’t be more in love if you tried.

You see he looks to you after what seems to have been a joke told by one of the group, eyes heavy lidded with joy and the worn creases by his eyes a little deeper by the day. Checking in. You join your friends when you want and are gratefully received on those many occasions, but you revere your time alone. He holds back because he doesn’t want to upset you in the slightest.

Despite reiterating that he is forever welcome to join you in said alone time - and all puns entailing your ‘ alone time ’ whispered in a soft silken purr aside - you feel it in the way he speaks to you.

A fruitfly hums by your ear. You swat it away and look to him once more.

Astarion’s eyes are back on the group.

He listens to stories beyond your earshot and smiles, lolling his pretty head back and dipping to sip from his glass often, the tips of his ears twitching ever so slightly as he does. You clock the sparkling glassware as opposed to the standard tavern-offering pewter chalice and grimace. A heavy bell rings from one of the gilded towers in the near distance.

There’s a cathedral near where you’re from - you remember your visits there as a young thing. The height of the tallest spire seemingly miles above your tiny skull. Ribbed vaulting and lancets. You’d marry him there, when he’d let you, in one of the smaller chapels just off the aged cloister walkway.

The old stone reminiscent of so many who’d loved in all sorts of mangled, patchwork ways before you two were even a thought.

You’d find a way for the sun to forgive him once this was over, so he could stand in the light of a stained rose window and feel faith in something the way those born into religion do.

A reception bursting at the seams with old friends at the Elfsong. You could dance yourselves to the point of a tired stupor with reason enough to do so. A celebration.

Travel across Toril and find a way for him to be able to stomach real food, maybe. Have a cake with marzipan and trifle with rich sherry-soaked sponge for the guests. For him.

His lips show the faintest touch of a wine singe as he looks from Wyll and across to Jaheira, squinting in the sun before standing to - presumably - head to the bar.

You close your eyes again and somewhere in the middle distance, bells continue to ring. A dopey grin as light heeled footsteps approach.

“I think everyone was beginning to wonder if we’d had a tiff.”

Astarion sniffs gently and sits - almost slumped - toward you before leaning in for the kiss.

His lips open lazily to meet yours over and over again, skimming over the back of your teeth with a tannin-stained tongue and all the urgency of a tenday rest. A cold thumb brushes over the apple of your newly freckled cheek.

A carafe of freshly corked wine on the bench before you both, glassware and a plate with warm bread. The butter you’d smelled earlier.

“Could’ve come to me sooner, lover.” You pose with a slow blink, holding his arm still at the wrist to keep his hand to your burning face.

Foreheads meet. The sun beats in the back and the still early evening air is interrupted by the faint buzz of insects and far-off children.

“I know. I do. You just looked so very deep in thought. Our heroic leader.” He jokes, emphasising ‘heroic leader’ in a mock grizzled tone before his head leaves yours and bringing you into his torso with his arm around you.

His stillness feels reverent.

He doesn’t jostle, not a single gesture. You steadily pour two glasses of Firewine from the hefty carafe and sit back into him again.

“I was thinking about you.” You say in earnest while moving to toy mindlessly with the hand draped over your shoulder.

“Hm?”

A flicker - his eyes are on you, a familiar burn, a fire poker. He knows that he’s often the subject of your pondering (if your word is to be believed) and has spent days of his own considering what that could mean.

On nights where his tongue sours with centuries of fermented scorn and his bedroll soaks through with thick, cold sweat; your mind is a fertile meadow and he resides as naught but a simple buxom milkmaid - giving and dense and virile atop dry grassy knolls and by stony running rivers, rutting and riding and suckling and spilling with bare teeth brushing shining cheekbones and dirt smears on thighs. Dimples on cheeks. Eyes of green and silver, blunt teeth.

“You. I was thinking about you.”

Astarion looks into the oncoming twilight. He rests his head to the side on yours, then nestles in a little. A sigh.

From that meadow however, there’s a house with a thatch roof in the far distance; in which he sits by a roaring fireplace in comfortable clothes of his own choice and you, bundling through the door with a basket of fresh produce to stew in hand.

Those lips alone capable of crafting a euphoria akin to a godsly blessing on him.

One bedroom; perhaps two.

Maybe even three.

“How so, my sweet?” He speaks with the familiar measure of a thousand yard stare.

He doesn’t make the voyeur joke you’d seen so vividly in your mind’s eye, nor does he collapse around you with both arms at either of your sides and his chin on your head; burying kisses into your hair and cackling maniacally.

His laundry must’ve dried on the balcony in your party’s quarters during the blazing height of Flamerule. Ruffled shirt linen, crisp and earthy.

“You want to know how I was thinking about you?”

A soft intake of breath.

“Yes.”

You shift a little to look to the Lower City further down the hills and pathways of Baldur’s Gate, the span of the Chionthar and its banks now lit with flaming torches.

The racket continues inside the Elfsong with songs being sung; food arriving at waiting tables and being spooned, hot, into hungry, wet mouths. Sweat slickened palms joining in prayer. Yellowed cards downed and reshuffled, hands dealt. Bards plucking at lutes and lyres on streets and in parks just far enough away.

He looks to you as you roll your tongue around the inside of your cheek. Soft round eyes seeking permission to dream alongside you.

‘I was picturing a wedding. Our wedding. In the cathedral back near home - I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before.”

Though it hasn’t been left to sit long enough to aerate, you take a long sip of wine and a cloying film of carnelian remains on your tongue.

His eyes sharpen.

“You didn’t just propose to me, did you?’

He quirks a brow.

‘Really, darling? Here?’

He gestures to your surroundings while feigning disdain and reaching for the other glass. You begin to shake your head.

‘Come on now, little love. Not even a ring?”

Astarion drinks. His voice is lower. You roll your head back in loving laughter and wriggle yourself from his grasp, buttering a chunk of bread before popping it cleanly into your mouth.

”You want a ring?’

A sip. A smile.

‘Go nick one. You’re the rogue here.” You quip, chewing still on the crust and wiping your fingers on a scrap of cloth.

He brings them to his lips and licks clean any trace of salty butter, kissing each pad of calloused flesh attentively before sipping from his glass.

“Thieving my own engagement ring? How very sad.’

Spare hand gesturing once again to the tavern in such a blasé fashion it would make you cringe if you still put any doubt into his estimation of you.

‘This whole thing.”

His brows furrow in jest, the corner of his mouth pulling at a quick smirk.

“Steal one for me, then.” You suckle at your wine, keeping the vessel close pressed to your lips lest their wavering seriousness give your smile away. Astarion studies you.

“You’d accept a stolen ring as a sign of promise? Of intent to marry?” He queries, though not sounding as airy - nor aghast - as he likely means to.

“Depends who stole it.”

He looks back to the city in the distance. Silence between the two of you.

“What were you picturing in that pretty head of yours? The wedding.”

His hands roll over one another nonchalantly as he says the word. Wedding. The glass sloshes. He’s toying on the precipice of serious, a scene he can’t quite play at comfortably yet.

“Oh no no no, my love. You’ll recoil. It was far too homely for your tastes.” You shake your head animatedly, waving your hands in emphasis.

He leans in towards you; a sordid grin. He’s comfortable now. The warmth in which his shirt dried vividly present.

“Oh go on, darling. Make me squirm. Tell me every fang-rottingly flaccid detail and I’ll absolutely hate it, I promise.”

You choose to forget the face of endless night this evening.

The anticipated fast approaching absence of the tadpole means - most likely - the rescinding of Astarion’s ability to walk in the sun, to bask under the stained glass rose in the chapel; or to waltz in a quiet midday embrace atop the Elfsong veranda.

“Can I trust you to be as absolutely appalled as I imagine you’ll be?” You whisper, saccharine in mock secrecy.

“I swear it. Hand on undead heart.”

He lingers barely above you, solemn; a voice of liquid gold.

You let the silence hang.

“A chapel’

He winces.

‘Cold and draughty in some early morning moment - a choir elsewhere in the building, not close enough to be loud but not far enough to have their verses be wholly indiscernible in song.”

“Go on.”

“Maybe a little austere in tone owing to the nature of the environment, but each moment feels anticipatory. A small - no, intimate - service, fast but…’

You tap your fingers on the dry wood of the bench. Trying to recall the exact sentiment.

‘Eager. Full of devotion so sickeningly true it literally fizzes below the surface of the flesh. Both of us.”

Now you sip, content. Astarion looks into the distance

There are no burdens pertaining to the ‘Absolute’. Life is being lived and the day feels as if it is ending only for another one - just the same - to rise in its place tomorrow. The idea of fighting and peril waits for the morning chimes. An unspoken agreement.

“I keep forgetting I can make choices like that now, truth be told. To commit myself to something with no intent other than that which I decide.”

He’s wistful. A little contemplative. Fingers tapping away.

“There’s no rush, my dove.’

Eyes back on you, hand reaching for yours.

‘Besides - for the trifle I pictured at the reception; we’d need to solve your little taste problem first before I’d dream of allowing such an indulgence to go to waste.”

Astarion coughs, a glint in his eye.

“You’re questioning my taste now?”

“Oh, absolutely. Look at your choice in partner.”

He laughs softly.

“You're an insufferable thing.’

Your fingers & knapsack are both heavy already with stolen gems, as are those of every friend you’ve met along the road. Rings of onyx, quartz; once personal keepsakes & now your plunderer’s spoils. He’s like a magpie whilst rummaging through burlap sacks and rotten barrels. Token pieces without rhyme or reason.

He knows they’re worthless to sell on, anyway.

‘Who knows, though. I might like that. Once I know who I am again.”

Wobbles his head. Examines his pristine fingernails, buffing them softly against his blouse.

“Did you just accept a proposal that you fictionalised in the first place?” You gulp the last of your glass before refilling it swiftly.

“No. But now, you’ve got me thinking.”

“Pray tell?”

He looks at you, eyes now awash with mischief.

“Though I absolutely adore the vision of you on your knees for me - you know I do pet, hush now - I also like the idea of claiming the pose for myself. In a way that’s meaningful for me.’

He sips. You remain in place, hushed.

‘I’m not a details man, my love.’

Eyes on you.

‘Don’t do it for me. I want to. Once we know where we are.”

You beam at him. Pinpointing the moment he turns from rogue to butter, a soft smile on his face. Sincere in the last of the sunshine.

You’re not hinting, and you’d never intend to. When - or if - you’ll tie the knot is as asking the length of a piece of string.

The road which brought you to this very bench, however; has been one fraught with similar nonsensical questions.

#astarion x reader #astarion #fluff #not smut #my writing #one shot #talk of marriage #gender neutral reader #i think #should be anyway #soft astarion

214 notes · View notes

vixensbrainrotts · 10 months ago

Note

hiii i just discovered ur blog and I love it and was thinking if you could write for smiley/Baji and reader that plays sports(volleyball maybe) and maybe they meet when she hits them accidentally... Feel free to ignore my request💝

Lovestruck — Nahoya <Smiley> Katawa

Content: ask-based

Tropes: Volleyball player! Reader, (kind of) loser! Nahoya (he is a loser you cant tell me otherwise)

Warnings: brief mention of fainting, cursing, (slight disrespect towards the end but idk?)

Summary: Nahoya isn’t an easy match, especially not easy to take down, but against your mighty float-serve he stands no chance.

Vixen‘s two cents: Hello! I got a new keyboard so writing feels like butter right now :) smooth. Yeah anyway sorry this took forever to write but i LOVE this request, i love playing Volleyball so im so happy that i could write about it as one of my passions. Anyway, i hope you enjoy this cause i enjoyed writing this! (Also tell me why whenever i write for Smiley he‘s always getting beat the fuck up? Lol)

Bouncing the ball on the court a few times, you smiled, hearing your teammates cheer for you, calls of „Float serve!“ and „Serve it up Girl!“ echoing through the hall. Fulfilling your little pre-serve ritual you bent your knees and crouched a little, batting the ball towards the floor with one hand three times before chucking the ball upwards. Overcome in a rush of confidence thanks to your mates, you took a short run-up, jumping and stretching in the air, swinging your arm in one powerful motion to reel up for a nearly perfect serve.

The ball cut through the air, soaring over the net. The opposing Libero sizes up, readying herself for a receive but at the last moment she decided that it must be falling into the out, leaving it be as she hears her teammates suspicion. Shouts of „Out!“ and „Leave it“ made you falter a little as all eyes were on your ball, watching it meet the ground, right inside the upper right corner of the court.

The whistle blows and the Referee gestured to your half of the court. „In!“ He gestured with his hands sticking up and you and your team, along with a few onlookers erupted into cheers. „ACE!!!“ your teammates chanted shortly, celebrating the point before returning to positions. The ball gets tossed back to you, and the whistle counting eight seconds in which you have to serve blew.

Pounding the ball on the floor, you completed your ritual again, your teammates calling „Again!“ and „Get‘em!“, and you threw the ball into the air again, winding up for another powerful blow. You hit the ball, sure that this would be another point when the referee blew the whistle unexpectedly, mid-serve. Confusion hit you, afraid you had served a foul ball, or waited too long, but when you looked towards where the ball was flying, you noticed why the whistle sounded.

There was someone on the court. Seemingly in his own world he cut the corner of the court, unaware of his surroundings, most of it shrouded by his hair. The ball was barreling towards him at top speeds, and despite the collective calls of „Watch out!“ and „Ball!“, he barely had enough time to respond when your ball hit him, violently smashing against his head and ricocheting off, rolling towards somewhere in the distance as he‘s knocked off his feet.

Guilty, you stood still in shock for a second, the hall quiet as nobody makes a sound as people looked between you, him and the ball. In a haste moment you jolted alight and broke into a quick jog over to him to see if he was alive.

—

Nahoya had simply been tasked to grab a mop from the storage room in the gym to clean up some of the mess one of his pranks had caused. Nothing more nothing less. When he entered the gym hall , his mission was clear: in, mop, out. Glancing into the hall he noticed that there was a game of volleyball going on, but decided that he could just quickly cross the court to reach his destination.

He regretted that decision now, lying on the floor, clutching the side of his head where he fell. His world was spinning, and not in the way it did when he got hit during fights. This was a wider surface area, and he felt himself get queasy as he swore that his brain was rattling from the impact.

„A— ou—o- ay??“ a voice faded in and out of his ears, eyes cracking open to look at a pair of gym shoes. „Huh?“ he grunted, trying to figure out speech again. „Oh—- od—- he— as- a—con- usion!“ his ears picked up, but the cut off words dont register fully. Instead, his eyes traced up the legs that stood before him, a pair of kneepads catching his gaze shortly before it moved further up. Entranced, he let his eyes map out a pair of (rather wonderful) thighs before the angle he was lying in forced him to look at the face of his saving grace.

„Wow..“ he whispered as he studied your features, the world behind your face blurry as you leaned down towards him, kneeling as a hand came up to his neck to check his pulse. You wove your free hand towards something, somewhere, and then he felt the world slip from underneath him, his hearing muffling as a vignette closed in around the corners of his vision. From one second to another, he went slack on the floor, everything turning black.

—

Completely panicked, you wove over some of the bystanders, asking for assistance to get him over to the sidelines for some immediate attention. In a rush, his body was lifted onto one of the spare equipment room at the side, the referee calling for your team to get back onto the field and play on, trusting you to treat the fallen boy. You were team captain after all.

His pulse was stable, you decided after a minute or two of counting and feeling the thumping on the side of his neck. Slightly relieved that you didn’t just commit murder you rolled him onto his side, shifting into stable position that aimed for him not to choke on his own tongue. You kneeled beside him, holding a damp wash cloth in one hand, a waterbottle clutched in the other.. Slowly and carefully you got closer to his face and whispered “please don’t flinch” as a quiet warning before pushing his hair out of his face to drape the cloth over his forehead.

Once the task was done, you remained sitting beside him, monitoring him for any movement or potential issues. There were a few moments of pure silence between you two which you spent just kind of observing him. You didnt think that you’d seen him before, not recognizing a haircolor as bold as orange to be very familiar to you. Your eyes traced his neat curls as they laid over his head, the coils shining slightly. The slope of his nose was oddly pretty, and you found yourself envious of the little gem that sat precious on his left nostril. His lips were full and lush, the same flushed shade as his cheeks, and judging by the twitch of his eyebrow he might be waking up soon.

His shallow breathing picked up, his nose twitching as his eyelids started to flutter, a soft noise falling from his lips. You readied yourself with the bottle of water you had picked up earlier and shuffled closer to him to ensure that he doesn’t panic too hard when waking up in the foreign space of the storage room.

„Hi…“ you carefully called out to him, hoping that your voice would serve as a smooth transition between conscious and unconscious. „please don’t scare, you’re alright…“ you continued, tapping the bottle nervously as he groaned again, eyelids fluttering open but screwing shut again due to the bright lights.

„Mmmh, what?“ He mumbled, voice gravely as he spoke. „Hi there, you’re currently in the open storage room connected to the gym so dont be confused.“ you said softly and watched his eyelids slowly crack open, now receptive to the bright overhead lights.

„Why am I on the floor though?“ The boy mumbled, raising one of his arms to swipe a hand across his face, pulling the washcloth off his forehead as he regained his bodily sensations. You cringed a little before you answered, a tad embarrassed. „Youre laying on the floor because you briefly lost consciousness-“ you were about to elaborate, but his confused grunt cut you off.

„What? Who did I lose to? Lemme- lemme rematch!“ he sounded distressed, now moving to get up- something he clearly shouldn’t do- so you stopped him before he could sit up fully. Planting a palm on his chest you pushed him back down, to which there was little to no resistance. „You lost to my serve, no rematching to be made.“ you clarified, leaning over him with the water bottle in your free hand.

„What? To you?“ he opened his eyes all the way, having adjusted somewhat well to the bright lights as he got a good look at you for the first time. His eyes widened, albeit still a little drowsy „Oh… damn Mama…no wonder I lost to ya, you could lay me down any day..“ You both gasped in synchronization as you flinched back from him, hand retreating from his chest as you stared down at him. He, likewise just as bewildered as you stared back up at you, a hand slapped over his mouth as his face transitioned into a darker, redder shade.

„Oh my god. I didnt mean- it‘s- Im so sorry.“ He stuttered out as he tried to scoot away from you to give you both some space to breathe. „Yeah, its ok, I mean its my fault really, I knocked you out, its clear that you have a little bit of a hazy mind…“ You utter down at him bashfully, a small smile wavering on your lips as you think about the absurdity of the situation.

„No no no I mean thats really inappropriate and I really shouldn’t have said that at all, I promise I don’t mean to be disrespectful but you’re so… you know? And maybe I should just shut up actually cause I think the more im talking the worse im making this all..“ He trails off as he comes to sit up fully, eyes filled with guilt as his focus darts around the room.

„Hey, hey, its alright! I mean, yeah ok maybe that was not what I was expecting but uh… you know… maybe take me out beforehand?“ you giggle as you scoot closer, taking the wet washcloth from where it lay forgotten beside him. Chuckling, you fold the cloth and set it, along with the water bottle, down next to him. „You‘re kinda cute, you know?“ you smile down at him as you stand up completely, boldly winking at him before turning on your heel to leave.

„Wait you serious? Hold on-“ he called out after snapping out of his daze, and you felt your smile widen across your face, cheeks tingling in a warming sensation. „Rest. Stay there until you feel better, they need me on the court, I’m the captain after all.“ you walk out of the open storage room, briefly throwing the boy a look over your shoulders.

„Im Nahoya by the way!“ he called out to you when he noticed your attention, and in smooth response you pulled your hair over your shoulder, revealing the lettering of your name on your jersey as you took your spot on the field. Your teammates noticed, immediately, and started giggling and whispering, teasing you about Nahoya who was now setting down at the side of the court, next to a line-judge he seemed semi-familiar with.

„Dang…“ Baji muttered and shook his head. „Knocked out clean with a Proxi-slap…“ he pondered, a hand on his chin as his eyebrows furrowed. „Baji-San i dint think that that‘s-„ Chifuyu was going to correct him, but Baji kept talking „That chick must have one hell of a punch then...“. Nahoya nodded, almost proud as he recounted it. „Yeah! It was so forceful i thought i was being hit by a train! You know what, it‘s sorta comparable to one of Hanma‘s hooks…“ the crowd of captains and vice captains ah-d and ooh-ed at the comparison.

„And you stayed there? Watching? They allowed you?“ Souya questioned, in slight disbelief. „Yeah! Oh my goodness you wish you could have seen…“ Nahoya swooned, fanning himself with one hand at the very thought. The surrounding members of Toman grumbled and snickered, some giving encouraging whoops to the twin.

„So a Volleyball-player…“ Pah-chin coughed, „She got—?“ „Thighs! Thighs for days oh my lord you wont believe it! And her smile! The way her hair falls, when she cheers and celebrates…“ Nahoya cut him off, a dreamy smile streatching across his face as he started to recount every thought he had when watching you.

The others shared a knowing glance and Mitsuya snickered „Damn, she‘s got you bad, huh?“ Nahoya stopped and looked at him, eyes blank as he thought for a second. „Yeahn… I guess…“ he trailed off to which Draken burst out into a loud laugh.

„She done ‘nd tamed one of the wildest guys I know, damn! You said she knocked you clean out? With a serve? You know damn well that shawty could beat ya ass!“ Draken went on, leaning onto Mistuya for support who joined the laughter.

„Hey listen! You‘ll shut ya mouths once you see all she brings! Full package I tell ya!“ Nahoya scrambles to defend his dignity (or yours, he wasnt quite sure).

„Right Romeo. You‘ve got her number then?“ Mitsuya quizzed, to which Nahoya fell silent.

„Shit.“

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokrev #tr content #tokyo manji revengers #x reader #tr headcanons #tokyo rev #smiley #smiley x reader #tokrev nahoya #nahoya x you #tokyo revengers nahoya #kawata nahoya #nahoya x reader #nahoya kawata

235 notes · View notes

theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 11 months ago

Text

You Owe Me

Characters: Buggy x Reader

Warnings: slight language (but mostly chaos)

Summary: Your solo-adventure somehow ends up with needing to team up with Buggy...

Luffy had decided for everyone to take a few days of free time after months of relentless travel towards the Grand Line. They had docked the Going Merry at a quiet town port and set off on their own adventures.

You took a small boat and sailed out to enjoy the open water in the hopes to find some treasure along the way.

As it happened, you reached a bandit camp one-day out that had been pillaging neighbouring abandoned islands. Banking the floating vessel amongst some tall rocks, you snuck up behind their campsite and waited for them to fall asleep.

When nightfall approached, you were ready to sneak in and steal their plunder so you took a step forward and-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A voiced whispered so close to your ear that you registered it as a threat and immediately punched the person in the face.

“Ow-! What was that for?” Buggy growled as low as possible to remain hidden.

One of the bandits heard the light commotion and jolted awake after realising that he was supposed to be on duty. You grabbed Buggy and sank lower into the ground, waiting a few short minutes until the bandit had passed overhead.

Letting out a tense sigh, you glared furiously at the blue-haired pirate. “You made me lose my window. I should go make you juggle for them as a distraction.”

“First of all, ‘lose’? I just saved your ass from blowing your cover.” He argued quietly. “And secondly, my juggling skills are impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes and returned focus on the camp. “What are you even doing here?”

“Being a pirate. I’ve had my eye on these idiots for weeks.” He replied and joined in.

It was unlike him to be alone without his troupe. “Where’s the travelling circus of cronies? Finally grew themselves a brain and left you?”

Buggy glanced at you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Equally matched, you dropped the question not wanting to reveal where the Straw Hats were stationed.

“There’s a satchel by the campfire likely filled with gold.” You said, changing the topic altogether which made the clown smirk.

Raising a finger, Buggy poked your cheek and pushed it to the far right so you were looking at the barrels of ale.

“There’s another bag behind that wall of booze and it has better riches.”

Swatting his finger away, you considered the second option. Buggy wasn’t exactly known to be truthful in fact almost every time you had teamed up with him, he had found a way to double-cross you.

The clown stared at you as you fell quiet and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, now you don’t trust me?” He asked loudly and as if it was your fault.

“Have you met yourself?!” You bit back with a voice equally raised to match.

“Hey! You there! Show yourself!” One of the bandits suddenly cried out and alerted the rest of the camp to the intrusion.

And just like that, your quick plan to steal gold was turned into a complicated mess. While you didn’t trust Buggy with a great many things, you couldn’t deny that he was skilled at combat… you just had to ensure that he didn’t kill anyone on your watch. Bandits weren’t entirely ‘innocent’ but there was worse out there.

With a fair degree of ease, you and Buggy managed to knockout the camp and retrieve both bags of loot. Buggy greedily took them from your hands and began rummaging through the riches.

Typical. You had expected this kind of behaviour from him but you also didn’t care about the treasure. You hadn’t had a thrilling solo adventure in such a long time.

Clink!

Looking down, you realised that you had accidentally kicked one of the bandits outstretched hand which had loosened his hold over a red jewel. Picking it up, you inspected the authenticity.

Rubies were rare in these parts and the smallest one would get you at least two million berry.

“Well, it’s been nice catching up but I have places to be.” Buggy told you, reaching out for the treasure in your hands.

“Whoa!” You pulled the ruby back quickly. “I don’t think so. You owe me.”

“Owe you?! For what? Abandoning me when I was beaten by that stretchy kid? Punching me less than an hour ago? Or maybe when you said that Shanks was right in calling me selfish?” Buggy listed angrily with his fingers.

By the East Blue was he entitled!

You raised your hands and began counting all the reasons in return.

“I helped you get your body back at Arlong Park, I didn’t tell Shanks that you stole the real Chop-Chop fruit and the treasure map, I did your make-up that day the Marines took your hands, I saved you from drowning…”

“You’re the one who threw me overboard in the first place!”

You scoffed at the detail. “And then I saved you. You’re welcome.”

Buggy groaned and leaned back. “Oh! This is going nowhere. I’m not giving you anything and you’re not taking that.”

Shaking your head, your crossed your arms and turned away from him. “Shanks would have let me.” You snarked.

Buggy’s nerve had been struck with that single comment and he stomped even harder. “Fine! You can take my damned ruby! Gah! Grr!” He conceded and then marched off to his boat.

Clutching the gem in your hand, you tossed it in the air and smiled.

Worked like a charm.

Masterlist here (for more One Piece)

#gif is not mine #theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #buggy the clown x you #buggy x you #buggy the clown imagine #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #opla x y/n #opla imagine #opla x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #opla!buggy imagine #opla!buggy x reader

179 notes · View notes

marcmarcmomarc · 3 months ago

Text

I told you I would bring up @pmpknsoup’s post more times.

Feel free to comment or reblog how you think this would have gone.

———————————————————————————-

(In Theodore’s office in Shade Academy at early evening, Team RWBY and Jaune Arc face the main members of the Remnant Alliance, consisting of Team JNPR plus Oscar Pine/Ozpin and Emerald Sustrai, Team STRQ, the Ace-Ops, the Happy Huntresses, Winter Schnee, Team SSSNN, Team CFVY, Whitley Schnee, Willow Schnee, Klein Sieben, Maria Calavera, Dr. Pietro Polendina, Ghira Belladonna, Kali Belladonna, Ilia Amitola, Bartholomew Oobleck, Peter Port, Glynda Goodwitch, Theodore, Xanthe Rumpole, and Zwei.)

RUBY: Listen. Thanks, everyone, for your patience.

RUBY: It took a while to figure out how to tell you, and I know being left in the dark about our whereabouts over the remainder of the winter, the whole spring, and the summer has left you anxious, but now, I’ve decided it’s time to reveal what’s been going on. Robyn, I’ll need your Semblance to prove all of this correct.

ROBYN: Uh, okay.

(Robyn steps away from the group, removes her glove, and joins hands with Ruby. Her Semblance turns on and glows green with every piece of information Ruby gives.)

ROBYN: So, you guys didn’t make it out of the pocket dimension before it collapsed. Where did you guys fall to?

RUBY: Well, after I fell, I regained consciousness on a beach surrounded by giant seashells. I tried to hone in on a giant tree, but just ended up looping in circles. Eventually, I had to stop, then found a mouse trying to pull a plant out of the ground. I pulled the plant, which turned out to be a cheese plant, out for the mouse, and fed it to them. After the mouse revealed that they could talk, I named them Little, and they decided to stay by my side as I tried to get home. Then we found Weiss and Blake captured in vines by a whole village of talking mice. It didn’t take much convincing to get them to let them go. Then we went to look for Yang and found a creepy Grimm-looking creature moving jerkily. And I mean very creepy. (IMITATING JABBERWALKER) “Stalking. Searching. Waiting. Listening.” (NORMAL VOICE) Then Yang came barreling out, already fighting the creature while missing her arm. Then Blake realized we were in our favorite childhood fairy tale, The Girl Who Fell Through the World.

(Confusion and wonder all around. “That fairy tale?” “The Ever After?” “It’s real?”)

OSCAR: That fairy tale actually happened? And the Ever After is real?

RUBY: Which means the creepy Grimm-like creature was the Jabberwalker from that story. Also, Weiss had a very hard time wrapping her head around the Ever After’s absurdities.

(Weiss blushes with embarrassment.)

WEISS: I did not.

RUBY: Our hands are glowing green, Weiss. Robyn’s Semblance never fails. Then we went to the village in the King’s Acre to barter with the Jinxy Peddler, who had stolen Yang’s arm. Well, they don’t “steal”, they just “take things others aren’t looking at”. Fair is fair, right, Little?

ROBYN: Sounds like a legitimate businessperson.

WEISS: Right?

EMERALD: So, what was the Jinxy Peddler like?

VELVET: Was he cute?

WEISS: Cute? He was adorable!

RUBY: And, despite being older than he was in the book, his strategy was the same, selling treasures that are really other items in disguise. If my memory serves me right, he had a yellow scepter, a pink rabbit statue, and a marionette-like doll. Toy soldiers won the scepter, and we only got it back from them because Little tried stealing the marionette, exposing Jinxy’s treasures as fakes. The rabbit statue was another mouse, the scepter was Yang’s arm, and the marionette was one of Penny’s Floating Array swords. The soldiers followed us to arrest us for stealing Yang’s arm, or “royal property”, before I traded Penny’s sword, and told them she was the greatest warrior to ever live. “She was touched by magic, and she gave her life for thousands. She took a message of hope to the stars, and she saw the world through better eyes.”

(The gang gets emotional, especially Winter and Pietro, who are comforted by their loved ones.)

RUBY: The soldiers escorted us to the Crimson Castle for the birthday of who we thought was the Red King, but turned out to be the Red Prince, who was more of a spoiled brat than Weiss was at Beacon.

YANG: (nudging Weiss) Heh-heh.

RUBY: We challenged him to a game of chess, where he shrunk the girls to the size of chess pawns. Not that it hindered their performance against the Prince’s pawns. When we revealed that we’re humans and beat him, he threw a tantrum and wanted us beheaded, and the Curious Cat rescued us.

(More interested chatter. Nora Valkyrie gets giddy.)

NORA: The Curious Cat?!

REN: Were they as chatty as the book made them out to be?

RUBY: Mm-hm. Not to mention easily distracted. Anyway, they took us to look for ingredients for a Growgurt Parfait in the Garden’s Acre, and we told them our life story, but because we kept getting distracted with our internal conflicts, we kept losing them over and over again. After the third time, when they asked me how I’m supposed to save the world now that Salem has two out of four Relics and that Atlas is gone, we met an herbalist, a caterpillar named Herb. He seemed to be asking us questions to figure out what medicine he needed to make to help us. Looking back, he was being reasonable, as too little medicine is useless, but too much medicine is toxic. Eventually, Herb just decided to smoke a hookah for a bit and drugged us with leaves that made us see our past selves tempting us to “go back”. To be free. To be simple. To be whole. To be different. The other girls rejected and had already accepted their failures as something to learn from, but I almost gave in, before the Cat stopped me, then got Herb swallowed by a hole in the ground.

(The gang chatters in moods ranging from confusion to nervousness.)

TAI: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. You guys did drugs?

QROW: Don’t let alcoholism be next, girls.

RUBY: Anyway, the Cat led us to a market to keep looking for the Parfait ingredients. Along the way, they told us about a process that occurs when an Afteran is no longer doing their assigned role, triggered by them losing their ways, wearing out, doubting themselves, or even just finishing their assigned tasks, upon which they are taken to the Great Tree and repurposed into someone or something else with a new identity, personality, and role. Their memories are erased in the process, but the heart very rarely forgets. They don’t die. They ascend.

(Such a concept catches the interest of the gang.)

REMNANT ALLIANCE: Ooh.

EMERALD: Talk about a potential existential crisis.

RUBY: Hence why there was no Red King when we got to the Castle. He lost his game and ascended into the brat we encountered. And the hole that swallowed Herb was him starting his own Ascension. Anyway, after we arrived at the market and got all of the Parfait ingredients, the market was attacked by Jabberwalkers using Neopolitan’s Semblance. Oh, yeah, Neopolitan fell with us, too.

(Nora, Ren, Oscar, and Emerald grow worried.)

REN: Uh-oh.

TAI: Neopolitan? Who’s that?

RUBY: Remember Roman Torchwick, the criminal from Vale? Neo was his partner. She held me responsible for his death at the Fall of Beacon and wanted me dead to avenge him. She expressed herself through gestures and facial expressions because she couldn’t talk.

RAVEN: Was she that chick I saved Yang from on the train on Mountain Glenn?

RUBY: Yep. Then I disposed of her by opening her umbrella on an Atlas airship in the sky during the Fall of Beacon. Apparently she survived that fall without any of those Grimm surrounding us eating her.

OSCAR: Team JNPR and I last fought her right after Ironwood declared us fugitives.

RUBY: Then she fought us in the pocket dimension between here and Solitas. Heck, she was the reason Yang, Blake, and I fell. Anyway, we made the Growgurt Parfait and the girls grew back to normal size just as we got assistance from the Rusted Knight riding his white rabbit.

WHITLEY: Did Weiss go goo-goo eyes the second she laid eyes on him? She had a crush on him when she was younger.

BLAKE: I think everyone had a crush on the Rusted Knight at some point.

RUBY: Well, things didn’t help when he turned out to be a grown-up Jaune with longer hair and a beard, who grabbed a fruit that sent him back in time twenty years right after he landed.

(The gang gasps at the new knowledge of the Rusted Knight being not only Jaune, of all people, but Jaune thrown backwards in time, grown older, and living without his friends for so long.)

NORA: Oh, my Gods!

REN: Jaune, that really happened to you?

JAUNE: I was stuck there isolated from other human contact, too.

YANG: Weiss certainly loved how mature he was.

RUBY: And the white rabbit was a jackalope Jaune named Juniper.

NORA: After his team? Aww!

RUBY: Then Jaune told us his perspective on the Tree, that he believed it was death, that Alyx backstabbed her brother Lewis, the author of the fairy tale, who wrote the story the way he wished it happened, and that the Cat couldn’t be trusted. Before long, we got caught in a “punderstorm”, which creates a physical manifestation of a mental or emotional problem. Jaune, Weiss, Juniper, and I were sent to metaphorical and literal crossroads, while Yang and Blake were sent to two broken, wooden, rickety bridges connected to a giant pillar that they could only make more planks to advance toward if they were honest about their feelings for each other. Yeah, Yang and Blake are girlfriends now.

(As Yang and Blake blush at each other, everyone’s hearts melt, all proud for the Bees.)

REMNANT ALLIANCE: Aww!

NORA: See, Ren? I told you there was more going on!

KALI: Our baby girl found love?

TAI: With my sunny little dragon?

RAVEN: Wow. She really is your daughter, Tai.

TAI: What’s that supposed to mean?

RAVEN: A tall overconfident blonde flinging dad jokes and puns and a brooding dark-haired beauty? A tale as old as time.

RUBY: Then the Cat bailed on us after mistaking us for selfishly using them to get home, and once the storm passed, Jaune let us spend the night in his house in the Origami Acre, then he introduced us the next morning to a village of paper stars called the Paper Pleasers. They seemed very dumb and clumsy at first, because of the daily disasters they were causing, but, at the end of the day, were very hospitable. He also named them after all of us. On his to-do list, I saw Ren, Ruby, Oscar, Nora, Neptune, and Pyrrha.

(Not a word is spoken as everyone exchanges concerned and uncomfortable looks with each other.)

RUBY: Anyway, a Paper Pleaser told us they kept causing disasters because they wanted to ascend, because their purpose was long since finished, but Jaune was stopping them because of his belief that the tree was death. They told us that the Tree isn’t death, but resurrection, rebuilding, and rebirth.

JAUNE: That must have been our waiter, the Blake Paper Pleaser.

RUBY: Then Neo’s Jabberwalkers attacked, and while we were distracted, the Paper Pleasers finally managed to off themselves by destroying the koi pond dam and drowning in the flood, then when the girls asked me to help comfort Jaune, I blew up at them for caring more about everyone else’s feelings or getting home, taking my mental health for granted and ignoring my problems…

(Everyone leans in anxiously. Things are getting even more interesting, but not in a good way.)

(Weiss, Blake, Yang, and Jaune exchange looks of guilt.)

RUBY: …then I ran away, came across the Abandoned Acre, and entered a mansion, where Neo had made clone illusions of Roman Torchwick, Penny, Pyrrha, Professor Lionheart, Clover, Ozpin, and Ironwood, and used them to physically and psychologically abuse me, beating me up ruthlessly and blaming me for their deaths, and when the chaos was over, I felt no will to live or be myself anymore, not helped by Torchwick’s question: “Do you really think you can stand to watch more of your friends fall? Or are you ready to admit the truth, that the world would just be better off without you?”

(The gang regards Ruby with sorrow over her being trampled by her trauma. Ozpin can be heard sniffling.)

RUBY: Then Neo offered me tea made from leaves from the Tree intended to wipe me from existence. The Cat blasted her away, but then turned out to be evil and tried to possess me, while revealing that they had been trying to wear me down the whole time, then Neo fought them off and stomped Little to death, then I finally gave in, drank the tea, offing myself, and got swallowed by the Tree.

YANG: (tearing up) Oh, Rubes.

RUBY: Then I met a Blacksmith, who I also found at the market, or, rather, she found me, and then she presented me with a choice to either change my identity or be myself. I saw my mom’s weapon and was treated to a vision of the night she left with Raven on another one of Ozpin’s secret missions and never came back.

(Tai turns accusingly at Raven.)

TAI: Raven?

YANG: She lied? She left with you?

RAVEN: Yeah… Hey, like I said to her, “First time for everything.”

(The gang gives her a look.)

RAVEN: Really? Sheesh. Tough crowd.

HARE: (to Ruby) Wait. What did you say your mother’s name was again?

RUBY: Summer.

HARE: (muttering) So, her uncle is Qrow, her father is Taiyang, and her sister’s mother is Raven. All are members of Team STRQ. Summer, Summer, Summer… (out loud) Summer Rose, the leader of Team STRQ, was your mother?

REMNANT ALLIANCE: (walla) Summer?…Summer Rose?…The previous silver-eyed Huntress?…That’s Summer Rose’s daughter?

RUBY: And then, I remembered my mom’s words, “I love you just the way you are,” chose to be myself, and came back to help the girls fight the Cat. And we won.

(Cheers and applause all around.)

RUBY: And then Neo killed the Cat by using the Jabberwalkers to eat them. By the way, Jabberwalkers are the only creatures to prevent Ascension if they eat Afterans.

BLAKE: On my count, there were a whopping five of them.

REMNANT ALLIANCE: (walla) Five?…Five of them?…Five Jabberwalkers?

SUN: Talk about overkill.

ELM: (after doing the multiplication math in her head) That’s gotta be over ninety teeth!

RUBY: And, according to the girls, Neo was possessed by the Cat, and she chose to accept Torchwick’s death and undergo her own Ascension. Oh, and Little ascended, too, into who we called Somewhat, and succeeded Jaune as the protector of the Ever After. By then, we had made it to the Tree by coming to terms with the truth, we’ll never be perfect, that even the most skilled Huntsmen and Huntresses have failed, and we walked through the door back home, landed inside the plane of the Tree, and met the Blacksmith again at her workshop. When we noticed two statues of the Brother Gods, she told us their backstory. That the Ever After was overfilled with plants and dangerous wildlife in its primordial years, but the Brothers were created to clear it out. Then they created the Afterans as well as the different acres for them to live in. They designed new creations that would replace them in maintaining the Ever After. This was how the Cat was created. They later created the Jabberwalker as a form of destruction. However, the two disagreed on whether it disrupted the balance or not and began to wage war.

OSCAR AND OZPIN: (both scoff) What else is new?

RUBY: The Blacksmith told us how balance isn’t supposed to be two opposing forces locked in battle; balance is an ecosystem, an organism, and a living thing, thus balance isn’t restored with force or manipulation, it’s restored naturally, requiring love and patience to see it through to the end. The Gods got to Remnant because the Ever After created a door to a “greater beyond” for them, so they can leave and experiment in creating new worlds as much as they like.

REN: Huh. So the Ever After existed before Remnant.

NORA: (snickering) So the Tree basically said, “You think you have life sorted out? Then get out of my house”?

RUBY: Pretty much.

(Everyone laughs at the Brother Gods basically being “kicked out of the house” by their “mom”. Some Gods they are.)

YANG: Oh, my Gods, that’s such a hilarious way of looking at it. Thanks, Nora.

RUBY: Anyway, the Blacksmith told us that we impacted the Ever After significantly, just like Somewhat, Alyx, and Lewis, and that the Cat caused a bad impact. Then she de-aged Jaune, but let him keep his memories, which explains the white streak in his hair, and made us a portal in the desert on the outskirts of the city, and now you’re all caught up.

(Ruby lets go of Robyn’s hand. The freedom fighter rejoins the rest of the Alliance.)

RUBY: So, I’m happy to announce that I’m not giving up the fight to save the world anytime soon! Between Academies and Kingdoms going down and our friends’ lives being forced to abruptly end, we’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the past two years, but we always pulled ourselves back together at the end of the day, and we won’t stop now! With global unity right at our fingertips and the ability to keep moving forward and accept our failures as things to learn from, things the villains would never even fathom, we can stand up to Salem and her forces! And no longer will we be putting the entire burden of the world’s safety on one individual! My name is Ruby Rose, and I am a Huntress!

REMNANT ALLIANCE: (walla) Yes!…Great!…Alright!…Thank goodness!…Welcome back, Ruby!…Good to have you back, kid!…Way to go, Ruby!…That’s my girl!

YANG: We’re so proud of you, Ruby.

RUBY: Thanks, guys. You and your support mean the world to me. And I’m just as proud to call you guys family. All of you.

(Everyone looks at Ruby with warmed hearts.)

———————————————————————————-

Starring the voices of:

Lindsay Jones as Ruby Rose

Cristina Vee as Robyn Hill

Aaron Dismuke as Oscar Pine

Kara Eberle as Weiss Schnee

Katie Newville as Emerald Sustrai

Caiti Ward as Velvet Scarlatina

Barbara Dunkelman as Yang Xiao Long

Samantha Ireland as Nora Valkyrie

Neath Oum as Lie Ren

Burnie Burns as Taiyang Xiao Long

Jason Liebrecht as Qrow Branwen

Anna Hullum as Raven Branwen

Howard Wang as Whitley Schnee

Arryn Zech as Blake Belladonna

Miles Luna as Jaune Arc

Tara Platt as Kali Belladonna

Anairis Quiñones as Harriet Bree

Michael Jones as Sun Wukong

Dawn M. Bennett as Elm Ederne

Shannon McCormick as Professor Ozpin

Additional Voices (no individual lines, but can be heard chattering, sobbing, gasping, cheering, laughing, and exclaiming, “Ooh,” and “Aww”):

Sena Bryer as May Marigold

Ashley Burns as Coco Adel

Tiana Camacho as Glynda Goodwitch

Cam Clarke as Bartholomew Oobleck

Michele Everheart as Fiona Thyme

Dave Fennoy as Dr. Pietro Polendina

Gavin Free as Scarlet David

Caitlin Glass as Willow Schnee

Mick Lauer as Marrow Amin

Cherami Leigh as Ilia Amitola

Marissa Lenti as Joanna Greenleaf

Joe MacDonald as Yatsuhashi Daichi

Aaron Marquis as Nolan Porfirio

Elizabeth Maxwell as Winter Schnee

Max Mittelman as Fox Alistair

Josh Ornelas as Sage Ayana

Anthony Sardinha as Peter Port

Kerry Shawcross as Neptune Vasilias

Keith Silverstein as Professor Theodore

Melissa Sternenberg as Maria Calavera

J. Michael Tatum as Klein Sieben

Kent Williams as Ghira Belladonna

Anne Yatco as Xanthe Rumpole

53 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 1 year ago

Note

mermaid reader and pirate/sailor sevika

sevika would be such a good pirate! she's ruthless and driven and really fucking smart, could you imagine her in one of those billowing white shirts??? i just nutted.

anyways, let's be cliche. it's so fun.

men and minors dni

you're out swimming when you come upon a shipwreck. judging by the wreckage still in flames, it had happened pretty recently. you swim closer, eager to see what kind of treasures were on board. as you approach the debris, you hear a groan. you freeze, your eyes scanning the water for a sailor as you sink into the water, just your eyes above the waves.

it's been a while since you had a sailor, and human is always a nice treat when you've been feasting on fish for a while. you bite your lip as you start slowly swimming around the various floating barrels and shrapnel.

there's a few dead men bobbing on the surface of the sea face down. you scrunch your nose in disgust as you navigate the bodies, swimming toward the moaning that's echoing over the waves. humans only taste good when they're still warm.

as the last remaining yards of the main mast sink below the surface, a loud, animalistic scream sounds out from behind you. you whip around. your eyes catch on a moving figure. as you swim closer, you're eyes adjust, and you realize that it's a human hugging onto a bobbing barrel. you grin, your sharp fangs descending from your gums as you duck beneath the surface and swim under the barrel.

two feet below the floating human, you can only see their flailing legs. you smile. human legs are so strange looking. you reach out to run one of your long, sharp nails down their pant leg, laughing when they start to panic, flailing around in the water. "what the fuck was that?!" you hear their garbled shout out above the water. you giggle, then wrap your hand around their ankle. a loud shriek rings out and they nearly kick your face with their free leg. you dodge them and swim away, slowly rising to the surface behind where they're scrambling to straddle the barrel and get their body out of the water. you chuckle.

the sailor whips around to face you, and you both simultaneously gasp.

it's a woman, you think in shock. her breasts are heaving, and the thin white shirt she's wearing is doing nothing to conceal her chest now that it's soaked. her silver eyes are wild, her black hair is plastered to her face, her brown skin is dotted with drops of water. a pretty woman.

"fuck." she whispers. you giggle again, swimming closer to her as she scrabbles at the barrel in fear. "fuck fuck fuck." she curses. you stop ten feet away from her.

"i've never seen a human woman before." you say. she freezes.

"y-you can talk?" she asks. you giggle. humans always ask that.

"what are you doing out here?" you ask. the woman blinks at you.

"are... are you gonna kill me?" she asks. you shrug and smirk.

"dunno." you say honestly. "never killed a woman before."

it's silent for a moment. then, "aren't you supposed to sing?" she asks. you burst into laughter.

"only if i was trying to lure you. but... you don't really have anywhere else to go, do you?" the woman studies you and you study her. "you're very pretty." you say. the human laughs. what a lovely sound. "what are you doing out here?" you ask her again.

"i... i was captain of this ship." she says. you blink.

"women can sail?" you ask. she scowls at you.

"'course we can." she grunts. "they just don't want us to."

you consider this, looking the woman up and down. she's shivering now, the shock and adrenaline wearing off. "doesn't look like it went very well." you say, gesturing to the floating bits of ship surrounding you. she growls.

"that's not my fuckin' fault! my navigator got scurvy!" she spits. you swim closer to her and she shuts up, gulping. you frown.

"are you scared of me?" you ask. she huffs a laugh.

"obviously." she says. you frown.

"why?"

"fuckin' look at you!" she says, gesturing her free hand at you. you look down at your body. "gills and fangs and shit! i thought mermaids were a fuckin' myth!"

you pout, sucking your fangs back up into your gums. "there. better?" you ask. the woman shrugs.

"depends."

"on?"

"are you gonna kill me?" she asks. you grin.

"dunno." you say again. she groans. "what's your name?" you ask.

"sevika." she says.

"how'd you get into sailing?"

"dad was a fisherman." she grunts.

"which flag do you sail under?" you ask. you've had horrible experiences with sailors who wave the flag with the red X on the white sheet, a few of their ships tried to hunt you for weeks. ships that fly the red X on the blue sheet carry tasty sailors, always fattened up and full of liquor. the woman before you chuckles.

"none of 'em." she says. you raise an eyebrow at her. "i... technically was not the owner of that vessel." she says, gesturing to the bottom of the sea where her ship has sunk. you grin.

"you're a pirate!?" you gasp. she shrugs.

"i guess."

"a woman pirate!?" you ask again. she chuckles at your excitement.

"yeah." she says. you swim in an excited little circle before reaching your hand out to sevika. she flinches away from it and you pout.

"come on. i'm not gonna kill you." you say, shaking your hand at her. she eyes you warily.

"right. i'm sure you say that to all the boys before you sink those freaky teeth into their throats." she says. you grin and giggle.

"well yeah, but you're not a boy." you say. she hesitates, still, and you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "fine. i'll just leave you here to starve to death. or maybe the dehydration will get you first. you'll start drinking the saltwater to quench your thirst and that'll be it. or maybe the sun will just cook you to a crisp when it rises." you say, slowly swimming away from the pirate. panic starts creeping over her face as you speak, and when you dip beneath the water, you hear her scream.

"wait! come back!" she shouts. you giggle and pop up six inches away from her. she jumps in surprise, her grip on the barrel slipping, and she starts flailing as she begins to sink. you quickly hook one of your arms under hers, pulling her back up to the surface and holding her as she gasps and sputters for air. "thank you." she says, as she clings to you. you smile.

the woman falls asleep in your arms as you swim her to a small deserted island nearby. on the shore, with half your body still in the water, you gently tend to her wounds, cleaning them out with saltwater before dressing them with strips of her shirt. she shifts and mumbles in her sleep, but doesn't wake. you admire her for an hour or two, pressing your ear to her chest to listen to her lungs, poking at her legs and studying her toes. when the sun begins to rise, you spend an hour catching and killing fish for her, dumping the headless bodies into a pile beside her sleeping body. it occurs to you that humans drink freshwater, so you begin to swim around the perimeter of the island, looking for a river or stream where you can collect some water for your new human friend.

when you return to sevika with a sack you'd made out of leaves filled with fresh water over your shoulder, she's starting to wake up. you claw up onto the beach to lay beside her, watching her twitching eyelids blink awake.

"you're real." she grunts. you smile. "thought i imagined you." she says, sitting up. there's sand in her hair, and you reach up to brush it out.

"your hair's so soft." you say as you twirl a lock of it between your fingers. sevika looks around her, taking in the island and the supplies you'd piled by her legs. she looks back down at you.

"you brought me here?" she asks. you nod. she blinks. "and the fish?"

"figured you needed to eat." you say. you nod to the freshwater. "got you water too." you say. "the kind you can drink, i mean."

sevika laughs, slightly hysterical as she takes in the scene. you frown.

"this is like... fifty pounds of fish." she says. you blink at her.

"yeah?"

"that's way too much fish." she says. you pout.

"i thought you'd be nice. you're a woman pirate for fucks sake, you're supposed to be cool! but all you've done since we met is call me scary lookin' and insult my fish!" you say as you start to shove yourself back down the shore and into the water. "i saved your life! and i didn't eat any of the fish i got for you. i mean, except for the heads. and i brought you to land and everything! you're fuckin' heavy, you know, and i swam you all the way here! and i haven't insulted your freaky ass legs once!"

you feel better back in the water. you duck your head under and swim ten feet away from the shore, twirling in a figure eight as you refresh your dehydrated body. when you breach the water, sevika's waist deep and scrambling, her hands reaching out as she searches for you in the waves.

she spots you and her shoulders slump in relief. you back away as she starts trudging towards you.

"would you quit swimmin' away, asshole? i'm trying to get to you!" she shouts. you roll your eyes at her but stop swimming, allowing her to doggypaddle over to you.

"you should be careful. the tide'll sweep you out and then you'll be lost at sea aga--mmph!"

sevika cuts you off with a kiss.

you've never kissed anyone before. some of the girls in your pack like to play with their food before they eat-- pressing kisses to enchanted sailors before tearing their throats out-- so you've seen it before. you just never got the hype.

at least not until now. because now, sevika, the pretty woman pirate, is pressing her chapped lips against yours, her warm human hands gently cupping your jaw as she hums against your mouth. now, you feel a whirlpool in your stomach. now, you feel an altogether different kind of hunger for human flesh in your chest. you wanna taste her, so you dart your tongue out to brush against her lips. she moans against you, one of her hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you against her chest. you shudder in her arms. she's strong.

sevika pulls away with a gasp after a while, and you hold onto her shoulders to keep steady as a dizzy feeling swirls in your head.

"i'm sorry." she says. "you're right. you've been nothing but nice to me and i've been a bitch. it's just a lot. i nearly died and then got rescued by a mermaid who chose to save my life and make me breakfast instead of singing me to my final sleep." she says. your eyes are locked on her lips, your tongue licking your own as you watch them move as she speaks. "you're beautiful." she says. "like... devastatingly beautiful. i can see why so many sailors would be allured by you." she says. you smile, your eyes flicking up to hers.

"we don't really eat that many humans, you know. before you guys had boats, our diet was mainly fish." you say. sevika grins.

"so... do you wanna eat some fish with me now?" she asks, gesturing to the tiny mountain of headless fish waiting on the beach. you bite your lip.

"promise you won't kill me and sell my body to scientists or something?" you ask. sevika laughs and kisses you again.

"yeah. 's long as you keep letting me kiss you." she whispers.

those terms seem pretty agreeable to you.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #this was soooooooo fun to write omg.#also in case ur wondering: u end up helping sevika hijack a new ship and build a new crew #sevika builds a giant tub on deck for u #and her crew and ur pack team up and start luring asshole sailors to their deaths #for u to eat and for sevika to rob #and u guys live happily ever after obvs.#dont ask me how the mechanics of mermaid sex works #i have no idea

225 notes · View notes

embarrassedanon · 2 months ago

Text

A free trip to Australia to help his uncle's marine biology expedition sounded too good to be true to Simon. The weather was gorgeous, the marine life out of this world, the only catch seemed to be the crew.

Despite all of their typical Australian surfer dude look, these guys were total nerds. They knew everything there was to know about the ocean and had no qualms about making Simon feel dumb.

Whenever he asked, in his opinion, reasonable questions the whole crew, his uncle included would exchange glances, nudge one another, and chuckle in ways that made him feel two inches tall.

No matter, always the optimist, Simon decided he'd just focus on swimming and sunning. No use in trying to make chit chat with the nerds, even if they were unbelievably sexy.

On one of the days when they were diving down to a reef, Simon stayed up on deck, sunbathing and handing them flippers and vials for samples as needed. His hands, greased up sun tan lotion, sent a handful of supplies barreling over the edge of the dock. The crew, fathoms below would certainly notice if they saw their equipment floating past them to the ocean floor so Simon knew he had to act fast.

He dove in and ferried everything to the edge of the boat before hoisting himself back up. Just as he emerged from the water, the crew surfaced. As they removed their googles and respirators they were treated to the sight of Simon's hairless butt cheeks. His waterlogged bathing suit had sagged beneath the curve of his ass, flashing quite the plumber's crack to the chortling crew.

"Simon, buddy, your Marianas Trench is showing." His uncle said, eliciting guffaws from his crew.

Simon whipped his head around to let them know he wasn't even offended by his little marine-based slight, because only a nerd would know what that meant.

He was stopped in his tracks when over his shoulder he caught sight of his bare ass.

They were all looking at his exposed cheeks.

Blushing like a red snapper, Simon roughly pulled up the speedo, a grave overcorrection. The force he exerted on the suit caused the material to lodge in his crack leaving the underside of his cheeks exposed and, as became apparent when he turned around, his balls to spill out the side.

"Oy, why don't you get your poor nephew at wetsuit so he's not all shriveled up," one of the crew guys yelled out. The laughter was even louder now.

This was a total nightmare for Simon. A bunch of hot guys who already thought he was an idiot poking fun at his totally embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. And he was stuck in the middle of the ocean with no way to escape. He knew this trip was too good to be true.

#enm #swimming #plumbers crack #my writing #enmstory

45 notes · View notes

moonlightsolo · 2 years ago

Text

yawnyewla | broken-hearted

summary: the tipani clan, located deeply hidden in the jungle, the people are perhaps the fiercest warriors amongst the extrasolar moon— and you are one of them. you’re an indigenous na’vi, who has recently wedded her best friend, eyturi— but all in one day, everything you’ve ever loved is snatched right out of your hands. on a leisurely flight with your mate, you’re ambushed by the rda, and separated from your ikran and eyturi, causing you to free fall into the jungle below you, right into omatikaya territory; the one place you do not want to be.

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!na’vi reader

warnings: mention of character death, blood, violence, injury, arguing, overall sadness :’( #sorry

note: i’m starting anotha series for y’all <3 u better read it and leave feedback my ego is starving

the bond between a na’vi and their ikran is unlike any other. never to bond with another na’vi, they are like a swapxì- a family member.

to fly is to be free; to be free is to be connected to the all mothers spirit.

the wind flows through your hair, and the beads that adorn your braids rustle from the gust. you let out an ecstatic laugh, leaning back with your arms extended away from you; mimicking the wings of the bird beneath you.

your gaze drifts over to your companion soaring beside you, the wide smile on your face mirrors the expression of your mate— eyturi, that is.

the tipani warrior has been your best friend since the beginning of time. once you both became of age, the na’vi man swooped in to court you before any other man could. resulting in him bonding with you alongside eywa—making him your lifelong mate.

you have never been happier in your life.

eyturi points at the floating mountain you’re growing closer to. he sends a wink your way as his ikran gains speed to cut in front of you, soaring directly under a waterfall cascading off the island.

his ikran flaps it’s large striped wings, sending a mist of water directly over your head. the coolness of the liquid chills your heated skin, but you gasp from the shock of it nonetheless.

your mate peers down at you from above, cackling as he holds his stomach from his laughter. your eyebrows knit in the middle with a determined smirk, “you will pay for that!” your grip tightens on the reins as you fly upwards to him.

his eyes gawk at your beauty as you ascend in the air, a proud grin on his chiseled face. even knowing you his entire life, your beauty is still extraordinary to him.

you admire his armor, made from the shell of the mighty txursum, “are you just going to sit there and stare, ma tìyawn?” he questions sassily with the nickname that makes your knees go weak.

just as you’re about to respond with a witty comeback, something dark emerges from behind one of the islands in the sky. your bloodstream runs cold— the sky demons, they’re here.

eyturi notices the change in your demeanor, following your gaze to the target that has taken your attention away from him. the sound of the powerful engines of the aircraft grows louder as it barrels toward the both of you.

“we must fight!” he shouts, “eyturi! it is too dangerous!” you cry out in distress, “we must for our people! for pandora!” he hollers and yips, as he pumps his weapon into the air and takes off toward the gunship.

you let out a vicious hiss directed at him, “aaah!” frustrated with him from not listening to you. you reach behind your back to slide your bow in front of you before taking off to follow him.

“yi-yi-yi-yiaah!” you cry out piercingly, eyes squinted menancingly.

eyturi swoops in upside down over the top of the gunship, taking out the passenger pilot with an arrow.

his ikran glides down the side of the ship, and disappears behind the side of the mountain to dodge the bullets flying at him. he appears over top of the rocky side, sending another arrow at the sky demon. it hits the one wielding the side gun and pierces the demon right in the chest.

you soar right on his tail, eyes peering into the inside of the ship as another sky demon replaces the dead one. the gun cocks as it reloads, his finger freely presses against the trigger to send multiple rounds at the two of you.

eyturi circles the plane, dodging one of the engines as the pilots attempts to squash him into the rocky side of a mountain. he’s thrown off guard by the sudden movement, twirling around the ship to the other side.

you dodge the fire coming from the other side of the ship, twirling and darting through the air frantically.

the ship takes its attention off of you as eyturì bolts beside it with his bow loaded with an arrow. you spin your ikran around to head back and help him, but it’s too late.

a dreamwalker reloads another round into the gun, the loud click rings in your ears. a devilish smirk is plastered on their face as he the bullets fly right into the chest of eyturì.

“no! no, no, no!” you cry out in pain as your eyes witness each bullet tear through his torso. his cold eyes trail over to you as he slips off the side of his ikran, breaking the bond with his animal. you let out another heart wrenching shriek as his body tumbles into the jungle below.

the banshee beneath you whines from your shared pain, screeching and chittering. hot angry tears stream down your cheeks, the droplets smear the red and black war paint drawn onto your skin.

before you’re able to properly mourn, the ship turns to beeline straight towards you, “come on, keyè! we have to go!” you sob at your banshee. she squaks and darts the opposite way.

the whirring engines grow closer, and you can hear the shouting of a foreign language coming from demon bird. you drop down under the floating mountains, skimming the tops of the clouds. you swivel your waist to turn around while keeping your knees forward.

plucking your last arrow from the sack hanging on your shoulder, you notch it into place against the string. sucking in a sharp fearful breath when the gun points downward at you from above.

it’s now or never— you let out a guttural, bloodcurdling scream as the gun unloads rapid fire shots at you, and the arrow is released from your grip.

keyè barrel rolls in the sky in order to take the full damage of the bullets to protect you, using her own body as a shield. your throat releases another pained howl as your sister is shot, feeling the burning pain inside of your own chest.

the banshee releases the bond with you as she plunges toward the ground, “no! keyè!” you cry out after her, scrambling in the air as you free fall

an explosion lights up the sky above you, sending a wave of heat over your descending body. your eyes stare in shock as the fireball engulfs the side of the mountain, sending shrapnel and debris down to chase you.

you did it— you hit the engine…

the air whips beside your ears powerfully as your body is helplessly pulled to the ground. you must try your hardest to focus on grabbing the branches, it’s your only hope, but it’s harder than it seems.

once you pass the treeline, your body is repeatedly striked by splintering wood as you tumble through the branches. your hands scramble to grip onto something to soften your blow, but you’re falling too fast.

panic ensues when your brain quickly realizes you failed to break the fall. the ground is suddenly closer than it seemed, and your body slams into the ground with a loud crack, landing on your side atop of a log.

your lungs punch out a pained wheeze, and a raspy sob. your sight fades in and out, but you can see the firey debris barreling towards you.

with a loud shout, you slide your weak body off the side of the log, landing in a bed of plush grass with another painful thud. it’s a pain you’ve never felt before; it’s blinding, and inconsolable.

you’re gasping for air as the pain sizzles at your nerve-endings, obliterating your muscles and bones. the debris from the ship lands beside you, barely missing your body— but somehow, you don’t seem to care if you were to be impaled.

you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you, “eywa… please let me die a warriors death. let me join eyturi…” you manage to shakily murmur before you succumb to the darkness. the grip on the grass loosens as your hands fall limp

—

“come on! we shouldn’t be out this far! dad is going to have us by our necks!” kiri whines in protest, but still continues to follow her brother and her human friend through the foliage.

“bro, we have to…” lo’ak’s voice fades as he steps a foot over a log. his eyes spot the familiar blue skin of a na’vi laying asleep in the small clearing of grass. you’re surrounded by shards of metal from the gunship that exploded, the one their dad specifically told them to stear clear of.

“dude… is that a na’vi?” spider mumbles from behind him, almost in shock as he looks over his two friends anxiously.

lo’ak creeps forward slowly until he is fully over the log. the boy approaches your body apprehensively, his head twisting as he examines you, “no lo’ak!” kiri hisses at him, “you have to call it in to dad!”

the sully boy squats down to your level, leaning forward to get a closer look. he admires the spiked hard-shelled armor that is formed to your shoulder, and travels across your chestpiece. he takes note of the striped paint that is now slightly smeared over your body.

“i’ve never seen her before. she is definitely not one of us…” one of his hands reach out to press on a point under your jaw to seek out your pulse.

“wait- she’s alive!” he calls out, his round eyes dart over the two standing off to the side. his other hand rises to his throat, pressing on his comm device to activate it. “dad, we found a girl… not one of us, but she’s hurt.”

“is she alive?” his father answers, jake sully, the olo’eyktan of the omatikaya clan.

“barely.” lo’ak huffs as he monitors your breathing.

“where are you?” jake sully questions with a harsh tone.

lo’ak shakes his head and takes a deep breath before replying, “just outside of camp… in the forest.. under hallelujah mountains.” lo’ak murmurs, his ears droop when his dad sighs in his ear. from obvious disappointment of lo’ak not listening to his previous orders to stay out of the area.

“wait, father! i’m close to his location, i’ll go.” lo’ak’s older brother, neteyam, joins in on the conversation.

“alright, boy. go, and bring them all back to camp.” jake mumbles, and the conversation is cut.

lo’ak’s shoulders slouch in annoyance as he stands up, “neteyam is coming.” he grumbles as he keeps his eyes trained on you.

kiri and spider decide since you’re unconscious, it should be safe enough to join lo’ak in the clearing with your body, “the paint… i’ve never seen anything like it. what clan is she from?”

“i don’t know, but i know she doesn’t look like you guys.” spider laughs almost nervously, and scratches the back of his head.

kiri is squatted down beside you, one hand perched in the grass between her legs to steady herself. she leans forward, almost nose to nose with you as she admires the art on your skin.

“and the armor. we don’t have anything like this.” her fingertips gently pokes at one of the spikes protruding from the shoulder plate.

the loud flaps of a creatures wings stir up the brush of the forest, indicating neteyam has arrived. lo’ak is leaning against the trunk of a tree, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for his brother to come to the rescue.

neteyam sully, the eldest of the sully siblings. (otherwise known as the golden boy and the mighty warrior) he swiftly lands the ikran in the vegetation beside the clearing, leaping off of his animal to jaunt over to the others.

he stops in his tracks as he absorbs the scene in front of him, “for some reason, i didn’t actually think you were being serious.” he stifles a chuckle in his throat as he takes a few steps toward you.

he leans over, placing his hands on his knees as he analyzes your face, “she’s pretty beaten up. are you sure she is alive?” he asks as he slides himself between you and kiri.

“yeah, bro. she’s alive. i checked.” lo’ak rolls his eyes, and unsheathes his knife to play with the tip of the blade in his fingers.

neteyam continues to reach down to seek out your pulse to double-check his brothers work. the faint beating of your heart pumps against his index finger, “alright… okay.” he huffs out as he nervously talks to himself. he bends down fully, experimentally shaking at your shoulder to see if you were somehow just asleep.

he admires your face for a moment, glancing over your skin and a cut that cuts into your cheekbone and through your eyebrow. you seem as if you’re around his age, so you must have made iknimaya… so where is your ikran?

when he tries for the third time, your eyes continue to stay shut. he decides to pick you up, and he slides an arm under your knees. his other arm supports the back of your neck and shoulders as he hoists you into up with a grunt, “i’m heading back to camp. you guys need to get out of here, we don’t know if there’s any thing else out here.”

“fine.” lo’ak bites back, and storms away in the direction where he left his ikran. kiri gives neteyam a sympathetic look as she passes him, and spider nervously eyes you in his arms as he follows close to kiri.

neteyam sighs into the warm air before making his way back to his ikran. the animal chitters softly, which causes your muscles to flinch in his hold. he stops in his tracks to look over your body, making sure you’re really unconscious before climbing onto the saddle.

once you’re laid in his lap, one of his hands wrap around the leather string of the reins, “come on, let’s go home.” he mumbles to the animal, making its wings expand to take off. the banshee flaps his wings to gain momentum as it ascends into the sky, breaching the tree-line as it travels farther into the blue sky.

the ikran coasts through the air, drifting around other floating islands as she makes her way back home.

the feeling of cool air whipping past your face makes you smile, but it’s soon turned into a grimace from the pain that awakens inside of your body. you let out a soft groan as you wiggle against something sturdy, yet still soft underneath you.

your eyes flutter open, instantaneously blinded by the brightness of the sky. maybe, you’re still falling to your demise, or maybe you’re still riding on keyè… through your blurry vision, a pair of round amber-colored eyes meets yours; a male na’vi, but you can’t make out their identity. is it eyturi?

“it’s okay. i’m going to help you.. stay with me!” his deep voice is soothing to you, but it rings deafeningly in your ears.

with the last bit of your strength, you raise your hand to cup his cheek, “ma muntxatan…” your voice croaks out.

neteyam freezes from the nickname, shocked to his core. something flutters in his abdomen as he takes in what just happened— you called him your husband, your mate.. he almost catches a smile on your paled lips before the darkness clouds your vision, and your body goes limp in his arms once again.

“ah shit- come on, tawmi. let’s go! yah!” he shakes the reins, urging the ikran to go faster.

the high camp is located in a cave system that is only accessible to ikran’s through a crevasse in the rocky floor. the animal lands inside with a loud screech, alarming the people that neteyam has arrived with you.

his father, the olo’eyktan, is standing off to the side speaking to a group of na’vi before turning his attention to the arrival of his son.

“neteyam!” he shouts out as he strides over to the boy who is already walking up to him. his eyes look over the badly bruised and cut up body in his arms, “woah… okay. gimme her. we gotta get her to norm.” he opens his arms for neteyam to transfer you over to him.

you whine in your sleep from the pain of being moved, which makes jake rush off even quicker towards the med bay.

neteyam strides just as quick on his fathers heels, taking a step back when you’re laid down in an empty cot. “norm! over here!” he calls his friend over who rushes to your side with his modern equipment.

the sully boy stands off to the side, his worried eyes taking in every little thing. he grimaces at the needle being stuck in the crook of your arm, and watches when medicine is pushed through the tube connected to you.

jake works on unlatching your constricting armor pieces, which reveals even more deep bruising and cuts. norm is handed a retractable tablet from another na’vi, that opens up into a handheld x-ray machine. he scans over your body once you’re rid of your armor, examining your bones that show up on the screen.

“her top left ribs are definitely broken, and i don’t see any internal bleeding. she just took a nasty fall. most likely has a concussion…” he puts down the x-ray to open your eyelids and shine a light into them, “but no obvious signs of brain injury.”

“what can you do for her?” neteyam steps forward, his eyes flitting between his father and norm.

“wrap it and ice it. give her some pain meds and hope for the best.” norm replies as he glances at jake.

neteyam sighs in disappointment, wishing there was something else he could do for you; for some reason, there’s a little voice inside of his head urging him to protect you.

“neteyam, go find your brother and sister. make sure they get home safe, ‘kay? your grandmother is coming, so we got this handled here.” jake shoos his son outside of the medical tent.

the boys tail flicks out of his frustration and his ears flatten on the side of his head. he doesn’t understand why he is forced to go seek out lo’ak, kiri, and spider. they were the ones stupid enough to not listen, and he knows they’ll make it back on their own.

the boy huffs and turns on his heel to walk out of the medical area. on the way back to his ikran, neteyam runs into his mother and grandmother walking together towards the tent, “mother!” he calls out and jogs to meet her halfway.

“oh, neteyam.” she looks over her son for any injury before telling the tsahìk to continue on, “what is this girl that i am hearing about?”

“lo’ak found her in the forest with kiri and spider,” his mother hisses at that sentence, obviously angry from her youngest son disobeying orders, “i was already scouting nearby, so i went to help him. she’s alive, but barely.” he shakes his head stressfully, running a hand over his face.

“maitan…” she hushes her son, and places her hands on his shoulders, “who is she?”

“i don’t know. she is from a different clan, but she’s wounded, mother.” neteyam gulps anxiously.

“your grandmother is a skilled tsahìk, she will heal her in no time-.” neytiri is cut off by a loud guttural scream coming from the med bay.

neteyam and his mother rush back toward the tent, the sound of crashing metal and screaming worsens as they get closer.

“hey, hey! calm down! we’re not going to hurt you!” jake sully has his hands up in the air as surrender, his eyes widening as he dodges another flying object aimed at his head.

“you must calm down! be quiet!” mo’at yells at you from the side of your bed, but her voice falls upon deaf ears.

“no! you are dreamwalker! a sky demon! get away from me! leave!” your voice screeches loudly as you chuck another item at norm’s avatar, “go! get outta here!” jake screams at his friend, who practically shits his pants and sprints out of the tent past neteyam.

neteyam and his mother watch from the archway in shock from your feral demeanor.

you leap up from your spot on the cot, squatting like a rabid animal as your wild eyes search for your weapons, “where am i? where are my things?!” you shriek.

“bring me back to my people!” you grasp a fallen bowl from the tsahìks healing ritual to use as a weapon. you eyes dart over the people around you, chest heaving with exertion with your arm raised; ready to bash anyone in the head with the stone bowl who dares to come near you.

then you see him. the bright-eyed boy from your dream, the one who saved you.

the memories from before whirl back into your brain, sending a wave of nausea over your body, and the adrenaline is sucked from your body. your mate, your ikran…

your balance falters slightly from your legs trembling under your weight. you topple back onto the bed with a sob, rolling onto your side as you painfully weep, “no, no… eyturi…. keyè…”

everything you have ever known has been torn apart in the span of a few hours— now to you your life is meaningless. why must eywa bring you back to pandora? why couldn’t she grant you a warriors death like you prayed for?

neteyam watches as his grandmother pricks a sharp object at your skin, which somehow sedates you for the time being. your cries slowly fade away as you’re overtaken by sleep; he will never question the tsahìks ways, but it always confuses him.

neytiri rushes to her husbands side to make sure jake is okay, checking him over as she angrily scolds him.

neteyam takes a step inside the chaotically strewn room, minding his step as he weaves through the various pieces of equipment that litter the floor.

“she is hurting very deeply. she has suffered a great loss, neteyam.” his grandmother softly breathes out as her watchful eyes gaze over your sleeping body.

“what happened?” he pries slightly, eyeing his grandmother through his peripherals.

“i do not know, but she is mournful. she needs guidance to seek her lost spirit.” she murmurs.

neteyam watches how your muscles twitch as you come back to reality. how your nose scrunches up when you softly sniffle, and your body that begins to writhe on the rough fabric of the cot.

you hiss, weakly baring your sharp fangs at the intimidating na’vi that surround you. then your eyes are back on his.

the hardened expression on your face softens when you see him, turning glossy as more tears fall from your eyes.

“i’m the olo’eyktan of omatikaya. i swear to you, that we are only trying to help.” he steps forward with his palms facing you, a sign of peace.

“om-omatikaya..?” you answer as if you’re confused, “you are toruk makto?” you question with a wince.

“yes, toruk makto!” jake exclaims with a grin, “that’s me.”

“i must to go back to my people.” you wheeze out as you grasp at your side, pawing at the darkened spot on your ribs.

“you have to heal yourself first. we can do that here, but we need you to cooperate- to trust us.” jake steps toward you hesitantly. the memory of how you were throwing things at his head still replays in his mind.

“how will i trust you if i’m surrounded by dreamwalkers and demons?!” you hiss, which makes you grimace and your breath hitch from the pain.

“they’re our friends. they’re not bad people.” jake tries to reason with you, but he’s met with an angry growl.

“the tipani do not trust them. we do not engage in any sort of relationship with them.” your voice grows softer before you let out a hoarse cough.

“the tipani..” neytiri speaks up as she steps forward, sliding around her husbands back to stand in front of him.

“your people are great warriors…” her strong voice fades out as her mind works to put everything together— the armor, the paint, and the healed scars that litter your blue skin, “known to be the fiercest hunters.”

you smile from her words, a genuine grin as your eyes flutter back over to the sully boy in the doorway. neteyam feels his chest heat up from your eyes on his, but he pushes the feelings down just as quick.

your body goes lax as you’re suddenly consumed by sleep, eyes fluttering shut. another symptom of whatever his grandmother pricked at your skin.

“we must let her rest. everybody leave her here with me, i will take care of her.” mo’at looks over your resting body from beside your bed, but nobody makes any movement to leave.

“now! leave!” her voice demands, making everyone scatter out of the room like mice.

“neteyam, one moment.” she calls to her grandson, making him stop in his tracks to turn her way.

“i see that she trusts you, more than any of us. once she awakens, you must look after her. to make sure she doesn’t…” her hands motion to the mess in the room, “…do this again.”

neteyam sharply inhales through his nose and curtly nods at the tsahìk, “of course, grandmother.”

“good. now go to your parents, i need to finish here.” she pats his upper arm as he passes her.

neteyam walks out of the hut, glancing back one last time to peer at your sleeping form. the boy sucks in a worried breath before disappearing around the corner.

his legs take him towards home, to his family’s hut in the middle of the camp. when he nears the entrance, he can hear his parents arguing, but it’s more like a disagreement than anything.

movement over to the side startles him, making him squint at the darkness beside the hut. he spots his siblings off to side eavesdropping, “neteyam!” his little sister tuk whispers harshly and motions with her hand for him to come.

neteyam’s forehead crinkles in confusion as his eyes dart from his siblings and then to his parents inside. neteyam almost falls to the ground when his father abruptly looks his way, but he rolls to the side out of sight.

small hands belonging to tuk attempt to help him up as he stands to his feet, “you okay?” kiri whispers from behind the little girl.

“yeah, yeah. i just hope he didn’t see me.” his voice is quiet as he breathes heavily. he boldly peeks around the side of the hut to look inside, only to see his parents are still busy talking to each other.

“jake! my mother, the tsahìk, knows what she is doing! you should trust her!” neytiri hisses at her husband.

“honey, i do trust her! it’s just that i don’t think we should be harboring this.. this girl. we should give her back to her people, to her clan! they’re going to come looking for her!” jakes voice raises, making his wife snarl in annoyance.

“you do not listen!” her strong voice rumbles as she paces, “she is hurt, ma jake! she needs us—the omatikaya…” she speaks more softly to him, “we don’t even know where her clan is. they disappeared when those demons returned.”

neteyam listens closely to his parents conversation with his eyebrows knitted together.

he wonders why his father wishes for you to leave; maybe it’s because of your behavior, and how you threw multiple objects at his head. he knows his dad is protective, especially when it comes to his family.

“let’s find neteyam. see how he feels about it.” he hears his dad speak out his name. his ears flatten and his eyes dart frantically over his siblings, “go, bro! or they’ll find us too!” lo’ak ushers him quietly from behind kiri, before stepping up and pushing him forward into the opening.

just before jake starts to walk out of the hut, neteyam strides inside like he wasn’t just listening to their conversation.

“um- everything okay? do i need to leave?” he questions stupidly as he busies himself to rummage for fruit in a basket.

“yes, maite.. everything is okay. your father just wants to ask you something.” his mother speaks with her arms crossed over her chest, obvious frustration on her features.

the woman motions with her head for jake to continue.

“your mother and i were talking about the girl your brother found, and i’m not entirely sure if it’s safe to keep her here.” jake stands tall with his hands on his hips, his eyes nervously dart between his wife and son.

“well, grandmother seems to trust her.” neteyam points out, which makes his mother puff of a small bit of air through her nostrils— almost as if she is amused with his answer.

her eyes stare daggers into the side of his fathers face, which just makes neteyam mentally laugh, “and she put me in charge of her once she is awake.” he takes a bite of the fruit in his hand.

both of his parents swiftly turn their heads to look at him with wide eyes, “she, what?” his mother is the first to speak.

“she told me that the girl trusts me or something… i’m not sure.” he trails off as he chews, and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks over his parents.

“well, if the tsahìk says so…” neytiri sharply eyes jake from her peripherals, “then your duty is to look after her.” neytiri curtly nods at her son, but jake let’s out an exhale.

“do you think her people will come looking after her? will she put us in danger?” his father continues.

“it may be a possibility, but she’s hurt, sir. you even saw that. she’s badly injured, and we can’t let one of our own out there by herself in that condition.” neteyam tries to calm his dad’s worries, but it seems to send him into a spiral.

“do you think she had anything to do with that explosion earlier?” jake continues to ask questions, and neytiri scowls and slaps her hands down on her thighs out of annoyance.

something clicks in his brain, as if a lightbulb turned on and shined a light over the subject, “yes, possibly… when i was bringing her back here, she said something to me about a mate, and then she passed out… again…” neteyam’s eyes look off to the side as his mind works through every scenario.

“because if she had something to do with it, that means the rda are getting closer to us and-.” jakes rambling is cut off by neteyam’s voice.

“look… father, i’ll speak to her and see what i can get without upsetting her too much, and whatever i hear i’ll bring directly back to you.” neteyam nods softly, and stands up straighter with his shoulders pushed back.

“okay, boy. yeah, that’s a good idea.” jake rubs his temples with one of his hands over his forehead, “go get some rest, i’ll go find your siblings. it’s gettin’ late and we all need some sleep…”

jake takes a step towards the exit, and suddenly the group appears around the corner. all three of them yawn in sync as they shuffle inside as if they weren’t just eavesdropping. neteyam sees right through their facade, trying his hardest not to laugh at them.

tuk walks up to neytiri, while the other two tiredly wave and scurry into the pods that branch off from the main living area.

neteyam takes that as a cue to head to bed to avoid any more questions from his parents.

all he can think about is you— how badly wounded you are, and the cuts and bruises that litter your skin. he prays to eywa that his grandmother works her magic to heal you. he feels torn between whether to help heal his father’s mind, or to help you…

the boy tosses and turns throughout his sleep, unable to find a comfortable position— or maybe it’s just his restless mind. he can’t stop thinking about how the previous events of the day played out, and he can’t stop picturing you in his head.

he swiftly sits up out of his hammock and presses his feet to the floor; he must go see you. the sully boy silently sneaks out of his pod, and creeps toward the exit. he pushes back the drapes of fabric to duck beneath them, stepping outside.

he takes a sharp breath of fresh air as he slithers throughout the silent village, but when he grows closer to the med bay he hears muffled sobs.

neteyam peeks past the entrance, only his eyes visible if you would look his way. the first thing he spots is your back faced towards him, and notices that your entire torso is wrapped in a white bandage. you’ve been stripped of your jewelry and armor; the gauze covers your entire chest, even your breasts.

his grandmother must’ve sedated you enough to allow norm to wrap you up— he wishes he could have seen your reaction when norm came back, oh to be a fly on the wall. he makes a mental note to ask him about it later.

the light in the tent is dim, casting a golden hue over your trembling body. his own heart tugs at the sight before him, wishing he could go up and comfort you— but he doesn’t want to scare you. you have obviously been through a lot.

neteyam takes a step back from the entrance, but runs right into a pile of crates stacked behind him. he attempts to rebalance himself, but his legs trip up and sends him hurtling towards the ground.

your soft sniffles halt, the sound of the cot squeaks under your weight as you move, “who is there?” your shaky voice calls out.

the boy sighs loudly, mentally cursing himself for being so clumsy. he pushes himself up from the ground to stand to his feet, his ears droop in embarrassment as he rounds the corner.

you’re now sat up in the bed, with one arm wrapped around your side, gripping the spot where the pain thumps at your ribs.

your fierce gaze softens when you see the omatikaya boy, “oh… it’s you.” you breathe out as your eyes examine his stature in front of you, “what are you doing here?”

neteyam clears his throat and stands awkwardly in the doorway, “i’m just making sure you’re okay, but i seemed to have- uh.. gotten lost back there and tripped.” he admits with a chuckle, and scratches the back of his head as he glances to the side.

your eyes can’t help but run up the expanse of his lean body when his arm raises, admiring how the skin stretches taught over his chiseled muscles. your eyes are quick to dart away from him when his eyes turn to you. quickly, you lay back down in the bed from your sat up position, letting out a pained breath as you lower your back to the cot.

your eyes stare up at the weaved ceiling, tracing each fiber that interlopes with each other, “i’m fine, but i appreciate you for coming to check on me.” your voice bites back in response.

he takes a few more hesitant steps toward you until he is an arm length away from the bed. his eyes look over the smeared paint on your skin, and the multiple cuts that seemed to have been stitched intricately.

“do you need anything?” he asks softly, his eyes run down your torso before worriedly settling on your face.

your eyes shift to stare at him, an unreadable expression on your features. you’re unsure why this boy cares for you so much— you are a stranger, an intruder to the omatikayan people.

“i wouldn’t mind a blanket…” your soft voice breaks the silence as your eyes refuse to acknowledge your request.

a grin breaks out on neteyam’s face and he curtly nods.

his round eyes search over the room, before spotting the corner of a brightly colored knit fabric. he scurried over to the other side of the room to pull the blanket out of a container, not caring as the lid tumbles to the floor.

neteyam hurries back over to you, and your hands outstretch to recieve it. he tsks, and shakes his head, “no, no. you need to rest. let me.” he hushes as he carefully drapes the fabric over your lower half and torso, and tucks it underneath your arms.

he can see the tip of your tail wiggling underneath, which almost makes him chuckle. “there ya go.” he grin proudly for himself as he looks up at you.

a soft flit of light flickers over your expression, which fills his chest with hope that you’re warming up to him— but it disappears just as fast, and your eyes return to the ceiling.

“thanks.” your voice exhales out.

“of course,” he clears his throat before continuing, “if you need anything else, i’ll be back in the morning.”

you almost let out a laugh at his words, but you stop yourself. you wonder why is this boy so kind to you; you’ve done nothing, but try to attack his people, and insult everyone in the room. you decide to hum and nod in response, instead of laughing.

you have absolutely no energy to speak to him, mentally and physically. your thoughts are consumed by memories of eyutiri, keyè, and the events that led to your life falling apart before your eyes.

neteyam takes your silence as a cue to leave, giving you a soft tight-lipped smile— which you, unfortunately, don’t pay any mind to. he turns on his heel, and ducks under the entrance.

it feels as if his mind is even more clouded than before he decided to check up on you. he assumed coming here would help, but it seemed to do the opposite.

somehow, neteyam feels even more determined to break down your hard exterior; to make you feel at home, to help you along your healing journey, and to finally get to the roots of what happened to you.

he wants to know everything.

tags: @rannjlkttrt @mazzycherub @lilly12lesry

562 notes · View notes

thebrickinbrick · 6 months ago

Text

Preparations

THE journals of the day which said that that nearly impregnable structure of the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, as they call it, reached to the level of the first floor, were mistaken. The fact is, that it did not exceed an average height of six or seven feet. It was built in such a manner that the combatants could, at their will, either disappear behind it or dominate the barrier and even scale its crest by means of a quadruple row of paving-stones placed on top of each other and arranged as steps in the interior. On the outside, the front of the barricade, composed of piles of paving-stones and casks bound together by beams and planks, which were entangled in the wheels of Anceau's dray and of the overturned omnibus, had a bristling and inextricable aspect.

An aperture large enough to allow a man to pass through had been made between the wall of the houses and the extremity of the barricade which was furthest from the wine-shop, so that an exit was possible at this point. The pole of the omnibus was placed upright and held up with ropes, and a red flag, fastened to this pole, floated over the barricade.

The little Mondétour barricade, hidden behind the wine-shop building, was not visible. The two barricades united formed a veritable redoubt. Enjolras and Courfeyrac had not thought fit to barricade the other fragment of the Rue Mondétour which opens through the Rue des Prêcheurs an issue into the Halles, wishing, no doubt, to preserve a possible communication with the outside, and not entertaining much fear of an attack through the dangerous and difficult street of the Rue des Prêcheurs.

With the exception of this issue which was left free, and which constituted what Folard in his strategical style would have termed a branch, and taking into account, also, the narrow cutting arranged on the Rue de la Chanvrerie, the interior of the barricade, where the wine-shop formed a salient angle, presented an irregular square, closed on all sides. There existed an interval of twenty paces between the grand barrier and the lofty houses which formed the background of the street, so that one might say that the barricade rested on these houses, all inhabited, but closed from top to bottom.

All this work was performed without any hindrance, in less than an hour, and without this handful of bold men seeing a single bear-skin cap or a single bayonet make their appearance. The very bourgeois who still ventured at this hour of riot to enter the Rue Saint-Denis, cast a glance at the Rue de la Chanvrerie, caught sight of the barricade, and redoubled their pace.

The two barricades being finished, and the flag run up, a table was dragged out of the wine-shop; and Courfeyrac mounted on the table.

Enjolras brought the square coffer, and Courfeyrac opened it. This coffer was filled with cartridges. When the mob saw the cartridges, a tremor ran through the bravest, and a momentary silence ensued.

Courfeyrac distributed them with a smile.

Each one received thirty cartridges. Many had powder, and set about making others with the bullets which they had run.

As for the barrel of powder, it stood on a table on one side, near the door, and was held in reserve.

The alarm beat which ran through all Paris, did not cease, but it had finally come to be nothing more than a monotonous noise to which they no longer paid any attention. This noise retreated at times, and again drew near, with melancholy undulations.

They loaded the guns and carbines, all together, without haste, with solemn gravity. Enjolras went and stationed three sentinels outside the barricades, one in the Rue de la Chanvrerie, the second in the Rue des Prêcheurs, the third at the corner of the Rue de la Petite Truanderie.

Then, the barricades having been built, the posts assigned, the guns loaded, the sentinels stationed, they waited, alone in those redoubtable streets through which no one passed any longer, surrounded by those dumb houses which seemed dead and in which no human movement palpitated, enveloped in the deepening shades of twilight which was drawing on, in the midst of that silence through which something could be felt advancing, and which had about it something tragic and terrifying, isolated, armed, determined, and tranquil.

#lm 4.12.5 #the brick in brick #barricade day #les miserables #lego

67 notes · View notes

lieutnt · 2 years ago

Note

can i request overstim and/or edging kink for steven grant? love your work 🙏

not enough/too much

Steven Grant x Male Reader Summary: Sometimes, Steven needs you to make his head feel empty. Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only. Edging, overstimulation, handjob, multiple orgasms, some aftercare (I couldn't just leave him a mess).

He arches into your touch, hips desperately chasing your slick hand as you pull away from him. “No, no, no-” he cries, tears beginning to form in his eyes as his orgasm fizzles away, again.

You pull him back, gently shushing in his ear and moving an arm to wrap around his waist while he sinks into your chest. “You’re doing so well for me Steven,” it was true, he’d been patient while you toyed with him, bringing him to the edge again and again until he was only focused on one thing. Nosing at his temple you keep your free hand still on his leg, waiting for his chest to stop heaving, while with the other around his waist you rub your thumb in soothing circles on his skin.

“Please, please,” he mutters, his abandoned cock flushed red and twitching, aching for release as globs of precum stream from his tip.

“Please what, love? Use your words.” Steven shakes his head, reluctant to say what he wants, and with that you know he hasn’t been pushed far enough. “I can’t help if I don’t know what you want, baby.”

Your fingers slowly move back to his cock once he’s calmed down, breath hitching as you stroke him with a lethargic pace, his hips desperately rutting up to fuck your fist. Like the previous times, it doesn’t take long for him to come close, whining out a warning.

Taking away your hand his hips buck uselessly into the open air, Steven keening as his orgasm is ripped away, and he finally breaks. “No, please, I was so close.”

Humming in acknowledgment you tease your fingers down his hips. “Close to what?”

“I was so close to cumming, please, I need to cum, I can’t take it anymore,” he begs, chest heaving with breaths as he clings to your arms, desperate for release.

“Ok, ok,” you attempt to calm him, pressing quick kisses into his temple. “You’ve been so good for me Steven, so on this next one you can cum, yeah?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead nodding vigorously. As you grip his cock in your hand he wails, body set alight as you begin a rapid pace, moans erupting from Steven as you bring both hands to him, using one to tease his head and the other to stroke up and down his shaft.

His orgasm comes on too fast, barrelling through him like a train, Steven desperately panting out, “Wait, I’m gonna cum-”

You encourage him, “That’s alright, cum for me Steven. I want you to cum for me ok?”

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer they slip shut, his groans gradually getting louder and louder until he hoarsely cries, a shiver wracking through his body as he cums in thick white streaks, covering your hand, his abdomen, some even splashing up to his chest.

Gently, you stroke him through his orgasm, whispering praises into his hair while he almost floats away, hand wringing out every last drop of cum as he crumbles under your hands, his body falling completely against yours. You keep going until he’s gently grabbing your wrist, hips beginning to squirm under your pace. He sighs when you let go, barely able to move until you grab his softening cock and begin stroking again, his eyes shooting open while he jerks against your touch, mind hazily scrambling to catch up, “Wait- what are you do-” he cuts himself off when your hand grazes his tip again.

“You can give me another one can’t you?” He looked so pretty in the throes of his orgasm - you want to see it again.

“No, please, I can’t, not again,” he pleads, but his body says otherwise, cock twitching back to life in your palm.

“Yes you can Steven,” you insist, not letting up as his body disobeys his mouth, hips trying to follow your strokes with a shaky rhythm. With the previous orgasm still fluttering through his body the next one only takes a few minutes to come, cock once again pulsing and jerking as another load joins the first, pooling on his chest.

He slowly falls away, unable to think or feel about anything else other than your hands on him, continuing to stroke him after orgasm after orgasm as your encouragement of another one becomes again, to just one more.

When he cums for the last time, nothing releasing from his tip, you finally let go. Steven whimpers, the rest of his body too tired to react. You don’t want to leave him alone for long, so you whisper that you’re just going to get something to clean him up, although you’re not sure he heard you when he doesn’t respond. Returning with some wipes you clean where you can reach and then throw them away, climbing into bed and tucking him into your side. He burrows into your neck, seeking out your warmth, something you happily provide as you hold him close to you.

“Are you ok Steven?” You ask, barely able to feel the slight nod he gives before he goes lax against you.

#steven grant #steven grant x male reader #moon knight #marvel #top male reader #elijahs oneshots #lieutnts writing #male reader #top reader

567 notes · View notes

lonestarbattleship · 4 months ago

Text

July 10, 2024 Update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"BATTLESHIP TEXAS UPDATE

Battleship Texas in Galveston, Texas, undergoing repairs.

The ship is currently moored at Pier D in Gulf Copper Shipyard where it will continue to undergo repairs and preparations to become a museum ship once again.

Navy Blue 5-N has been applied to the forward sections of the ship.

STEEL DECK REPAIRS: The ship’s steel deck has been sandblasted and primed while repairs are ongoing.

Looking down on the bow of Battleship Texas. Steel deck repairs are ongoing while workers prepare the area for a new pine deck.

Comparison of Navy Blue 5-N (top) and Deck Blue 20-B (bottom). The ship's pine deck will be painted Deck Blue 20-B.

The ship is being painted Navy Blue 5-N.

PINE DECK REPAIRS: Workers have already begun fitting the margin planks to the ship’s deck. These planks are cut to length, fitted to the area of the deck they are going, and primed.

New deck studs (for holding the deck planking down) is being installed on the ship's bow.

A fresh coat of Navy Blue 5-N has been applied around the ship's superstructure deck and signal bridge.

Pictured is the Signal Records Room.

Pictured is the Navigation Office.

For more history on the deck of Battleship Texas visit: link

MAIN MAST: The ship's main mast continues to be blasted and primed following repairs. The radar top mast, along with its SG and SK, will be reinstalled.

The ship's main mast is being sandblasted and primed before a coat of Navy Blue 5-N is applied.

IFF antennas await installation on both the fore and main masts.

The ship's main mast is being sandblasted and primed before a coat of Navy Blue 5-N is applied.

BARREL STORAGE TUBES: Storage tubes that once held spare barrels for the ship’s 20mm anti-aircraft guns have been fabricated and reinstalled. Not every tube will be installed at this time, but it is one more step to presenting the ship in its 1945 appearance.

FLOATER NET BASKETS: Several floater net baskets have been added in a few areas aboard. These baskets held nets which were designed to free float if a ship were to sink and provide sailors something to hold on to until they were rescued.

Antenna mounts have been fabricated and installed. Small details like these help bring the ship back into its 1945 appearance.

Ladders are being installed into the correct positions on a clipping room. Small details like these help bring the ship back into its 1945 appearance.

UPCOMING EVENTS:

July 20, 2024 - Join us for a ceremony to welcome the return of the Battleship Texas steel that was flown over France during the 80th Anniversary of D-Day! The Battleship Texas Foundation would like to welcome you to join us on this special occasion. For more information visit: battleshiptexas.org/return-ceremony

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

WHAT’S NEXT? - Battleship Texas will remain at Gulf Copper Shipyard while the ship’s new home in Galveston, Texas, is prepared. Additional steel work, replacement of the ship’s deck, further restoration, and painting will be done during this time.

Structural repairs are being made to the ship's cranes.

Brackets are installed which will hold the ship's siren and whistle. Both will be made to work again.

Workers lift parts of the ship's siren for a test fit of the newly installed brackets.

The ship's siren is being fitted to the smokestack.

TOURING? - The Battleship Texas Foundation will be offering touring options while the ship is in the shipyard. Participants will be able to view ongoing work and restoration or learn all about how the ship operated during its service career. An announcement will be made once touring options become available.

Looking forward from underneath the main mast aboard Battleship Texas.

REOPENING? - There is a lot to be done before the ship is ready for touring at its new home in Galveston, Texas. Reopening is projected to happen in the later half of 2025.

MISSING GUNS? - The ship's anti-aircraft guns are currently undergoing restoration. The guns and gun directors will be replaced once their restoration is complete.

Come on Texas!

To donate to the preservation and operation of Battleship Texas, please visit: battleshiptexas.org/

Support Battleship Texas by making a purchase through the ship's store: https://store.battleshiptexas.org"

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Facebook page: link

#Battleship TEXAS #Battleship Texas Foundation #USS TEXAS (BB-35)#USS TEXAS #New York Class #Dreadnought #Battleship #Warship #Ship #Museum Ship #Update #Galveston #Texas #Repairs #Gulf Copper #Restoration #July #2024 #my post

50 notes · View notes

scuttlingcrab · 10 months ago

Text

The Stranger

A little piece through the POV of my favourite devil, Raphael.

Bored at a party, Raphael seeks a delicious new soul.

Mortals. So tiresome.

Raphael sighed as he played with the golden chalice between his fingers, twirling the stem before taking a long sip of wine. He sat in the corner of the politician’s great hall, observing the ludicrous banquet before him. He lost count of how many of these wretched dinners he’s had to attend. Keeping up appearances. And for what? Silly little souls that didn’t amount to anything.

His eyes slowly moved across the candle lit scene before him. A gaggle of the city-state’s most famous high ranking officials flooded the room, indulging themselves in the overflowing barrels of wine, rich sweets, and succulent meats stacked to the ceiling. Dukes, Duchesses, City Officers… fools, the lot of them.

The air was buzzing with slimy scheming and whispers of menacing manipulations, the rank smell of lust lingering above the heads of the guests. A gaudy band occupied the other end of the room, a bard sang a flat tune at the top of their lungs that made even Raphael’s skin crawl.

He unfortunately knew everyone, their deepest darkest secrets, what fuelled their nightmares, what got their lips salivating. He couldn’t escape the desperation. There were more important things to attend to. The Crown. His plans. And yet… here he was. Another wasted evening in Baldur’s Gate.

A fat faced Duke approached Raphael, about to burst from the seams as he bowed, muttering some pleasantries.

Ah, Alistair. Signing your eldest away to relieve those crippling debts. How original. Raphael clenched his teeth as he bowed in return.

“How are your accounts as of late, Alistair? Plentiful I hope.” Raphael grinned.

The Duke blushed and quickly nodded, his sagging cheeks swung along with the movement. He whispered a messy thank you before disappearing back into the crowd.

Raphael snickered to himself. Imbecile.

His eyes soon stopped, fixating on a woman he didn’t recognise. Raphael nearly missed her, she seemed to blend into the shadows. Her face was long and pale, her auburn hair loose and flowing to her thin waist. She was dressed eloquently but like her face, the design was plain. Her brows furrowed as those dark eyes darted across the room like search lights, until locking eyes with Raphael.

Raphael’s eyes twinkled, his grasp on the chalice tightening. The woman’s expression didn’t change as they stared at each other. What a curious new creature.

Their moment was interrupted when a large man approached the woman. He swayed, leaning a hand on the wall to balance himself. He took his other hand and grabbed the woman’s cheeks, pushing her head against the wall. The man’s face grew redder as he shouted at her. Whatever he was expressing, it was inaudible over the idle party chatter and the bard’s horrendous music.

The man took the woman by the hair and pulled her out of the room, causing a riptide to tear through the other party guests. None of them seemed to care about the lovers quarrel, as the hole the man created soon filled back up again.

Raphael finished the last of his wine, placing the empty chalice on the table before slithering through the crowd, a slight pep in his step. Alas… some fun.

Raphael’s feet floated over the dark marble tiles, his pulse quickened, excited about what he might find ahead of him. The castle halls grew quieter the further he slinked away from the banquet. Finally free of that Bard’s vile performance. He really did need to take care of that so-called musician.

The quiet didn’t last long however, the angry man’s shouts now reverberated through the passageway.

“Yo-you’re g… go… going to w-w-ish you were ne-never born after th-this…I wi-will kill yo-u AND you-you’re bloody family!” The man bellowed, his slurred speech barely comprehensible.

“Yoland! Stop this madness, pl–” The woman’s pleas were interrupted as she screamed out in pain.

The shouts muffled and Raphael slowed his pace, keeping to the shadows. Ahead he watched as the man called Yoland kicked open the doors to the Duke’s library and threw the woman inside. Yoland stumbled in after her.

Raphael crept, peeking in through the open doorway. Yoland had the woman pinned up against a bookshelf, holding her by the throat. She squirmed in his arms.

“You b…bel-belong to ME!” Yoland hissed.

The woman reached behind her, desperately trying to grab on to a book, to something. She managed to grab a small bust of the Duke, slamming it against Yoland's face. Yoland released her and clutched his head. The woman fell to her knees, gasping for air. She quickly crawled away but Yoland lunged after her. The two wrestled each other on the floor until Yoland was on top, ripping at her dress and pulling at her hair.

“NO!” The woman shouted and lifted a leg into the air, clawing for her right boot. Raphael raised an eyebrow. Clever girl, no need to intervene after all.

She struggled to pull out a small dagger hidden deep in her boot, nearly losing her grip on the hilt as she dug it into the back of Yoland. He screamed in agony and attacked her harder, hitting her head against the floor. She stabbed again and again and again until Yoland's movements slowed and he soon quieted, dying on top of her with a demeaning grunt.

The woman whimpered as she lay under the corpse. It took her a few minutes but she managed to wiggle her way out from under him, still clinging on to the dagger. She rose to her feet, standing over the corpse.

Raphael straightened his posture, running his fingers through his hair to check all was in order. Showtime.

“My, my… what have we here?”

The woman spun around, her hand shook like a twig caught in a tempest as she held the bloody dagger at Raphael.

“Surely you aren’t going to use that on me?”

She backed away but stumbled over the corpse. She fell on her backside and the dagger flew from her hands, sliding near Raphael’s feet.

“Tut tut, I come as a friend, not an enemy.” Raphael took a step forward, he held his right hand to his heart, pledging his allegiance.

“Who are you? One of Yoland's bloody goons?”

Raphael couldn’t help but laugh. Rather loudly.

“Oh, oh my dear, I am sorry. Please excuse the rudeness. This is unbecoming of me. Too heavy on the wine this evening.” Raphael cleared his throat. “No, no, my name is Raphael. And I am very much at your service.”

Raphael bowed. He paused before taking a step to retrieve the dagger. He heard the woman’s heart stop beating as she held her breath, her eyes growing wider. She grabbed a thick book and held it in front of her like a shield. Raphael knelt down, slowly, as if he was approaching a rabid animal. He turned the blade around in his hands, so that the hilt now faced the woman.

“Please… I insist.”

She remained silent. Despite Raphel’s kind gesture, she moved further away from him until her back hit against the far bookshelf.

“What do you want?” She asked.

Raphael looked down at the large corpse in the room, the pool of blood getting closer to his pointed leather boots.

“This Yoland is going to be missed, surely. His friends, or what did you call them? Goons? Yes, his goons will be coming soon. How will you manage?”

The woman swallowed, staring intensely at Raphael. Her hair was dishevelled now, half of her face covered in blood and her dress nearly ripped in two. How delicious. Like a direwolf backed into a corner. He could smell the rich fear oozing from his new prey. He was so close. Just a little more patience. He could wait, especially after such a drab evening.

“What do you suggest then?”

“I’m only a passerby, helping a lost soul in need of some help.”

Raphael placed the dagger on the floor and snapped his fingers. A burst of flame revealed a silk handkerchief in his hands. He carefully removed the blood from his fingertips, going over every inch of his palm, careful not to miss a spot. He snapped his fingers again and the handkerchief disappeared.

“A… warlock?”

“I’m something far better than that.”

Shouts soon came from the hallway, multiple gruff voices calling out for Yoland. Raphael and the woman continued to stare at each other as the echoes got louder, the words becoming more coherent.

“Tick, tock. The goons fast approach.”

Rapheal extended his hand once more. The woman paused before accepting Raphael’s invitation. Raphael’s lips curled into a cheeky smile as he looked deep into her eyes.

“That will do. Thank you.”

The instant their hands touched, Raphael snapped his fingers and the two were engulfed in a warm, welcoming inferno. It was only for an instant but the flames dropped like a curtain revealing his central chamber. He stepped away from the woman and approached a roaring fireplace, standing beneath a portrait. He turned to face her with a grin, lifting his hand in a sweeping gesture, indicating the walls around him.

“Welcome, my dear, to the House of Hope!”

The empty chamber echoed his welcoming words. The room was spotless, the table neatly filled with a variety of food and drink, to ease the tension of any weary guest. Yes, less opulent than the banquet this evening but far better in quality.

The woman took a moment to balance herself, leaning against the table. Her cheeks were flushed and a gloss of sweat covered her forehead. She surveyed her surroundings and her eyes darted to the painting behind Raphael.

"Ah, the painting. Yes, I had it commisioned many moons ago. One of my favourite pieces yet." Raphael turned to admire it as well, placing a proud hand on his hip before turning his attention back to the woman.

The woman’s grip on the table tightened. Her eyes darted over the glistening horns, the massive wings, and the sharp claws of the painting’s subject. She looked at Raphael in horror and then back at the painting again, looking at the flames lapping around the Devil depicted in the artwork.

“Yo… you…”

The woman collapsed. Before her body could hit the floor, Raphael snapped his fingers and the woman dangled inches from the ground, her knotted hair softly grazing his polished floors.

Raphael flicked his wrists and the woman flew into his arms.

Must be the heat. Raphael smirked as he delicately carried his new creature across the chamber to a large chaise lounge. He lowered her slowly into a comfortable position, eyeing her hungrily.

"And you didn't even tell me your name. No matter, my sweet, I shall find out soon enough."

Indeed, the Devil looked forward to hearing what she had to offer.

#bg3 raphael #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael x reader #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #writing

74 notes · View notes

tavs-tressym · 8 months ago

Text

Delicious Denial - Chapter Two

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You).

Word Count: 3240 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT), violence description.

WARNING: Contains violence description.

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

A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content.)

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

A/N: Happy Monday!

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

Chapter Two - Six

The ground shakes beneath you as the boom of a war horn ravages the forest. You stand behind Minthara on a large boulder. There’s a small gathering of tieflings above the ivy-covered gate, and they don’t seem like powerful druids. Your heart plummets in guilt.

What have I done? These people… Gods, they’re barely even armoured… They’re all going to die…

Your mind continues swimming in panic. You scan the crowd of goblins, it’s clear to see that they’re outnumbered. They don’t stand a chance. A singular arrow darts towards you, Minthara swipes it to the side with effortless magical ability. “Blow that gate open! Now!” She commands. The goblins release their warcries. Some, carrying barrels of explosives, rush to the gate. Arrows rain from the sky and puncture as many foes as they can but it’s not enough. Through smoke and floating gunpowder, you can see the destruction of the gate. The grove is compromised. But before Minthara can give further command, you spot silhouettes amongst the wreckage.

Six silhouettes, all different in stature and weight. A very odd-looking alliance, indeed. Minthara holds her tongue, waiting for them to reveal themselves so as to gauge this new enemy’s abilities.

Weighted thumps on soil grow faster and louder as two of the silhouettes reveal themselves. A powerful, red tiefling, brandishing a greataxe with what looks to be living fire escaping her chest leaps forward, burning rage in her eyes. Then a skilled, female, githyanki warrior slicing through goblins with no hesitation and shaking off hits like they’re nothing. They make quick work of their foes, pushing the army back.

Behind them, a black-haired half-elf can be seen healing the injured with one hand and casting radiating destruction spells with the other.

Just as they’re beginning to feel overwhelmed by enemies, a ray of devastating lighting scorches the earth, electrocuting all goblins in it’s path. Your eyes follow it to the source, a human in a humble, purple robe, his eyes filled with determination and pride at his own magic.

The scorched goblins begin to twitch and spasm. You flick your gaze back to them, realising that they are dead no longer and are now fighting for the opposite side. By the gate, another human with a darker complexion, noble attire and a rapier in hand stands proudly, leading his new, undead army into battle.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… There were six… Weren’t there?

Minthara snarls and leaps into the centre of battle. Surrounded by these new, mighty enemies, she calls upon Lolth to aid her before attacking each foe with excellent precision and strength. You look around, frantically trying to keep up before realising… This is it. Your chance to escape. Your breath shudders as you slowly back away and once out of Minthara’s field of view, you run.

The makeshift shoes you were given start to rip and come apart beneath you with each desperate collision with the floor. You look back to ensure that you aren’t being followed, then you… Stop? The wind in your lungs is forced out of you as your back hits something solid. But that can’t be, there was nothing there, right? You feel a cold, hard, sharp sensation against your neck, your breath hitches. You try to wriggle free from whatever this is, but something strong holds you in place. In confusion and panic you go to let out a shriek before, yet again, you are stopped. A soft, smooth, cold texture contains the sound within your mouth. “Shh…” Suddenly the force around your mouth becomes opaque: a hand. The sensation on your neck: a dagger. The solid pressed firmly up against your back: A person.

Number six…

“If I move my hand, are you going to scream?” A male voice hums into your ear. You shake your head in response, there are no tears in your eyes, only fury.

You. Were. So. Close.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to ruin such a pretty neck…” His threats are theatrical, but you hear his earnesty and feel his eyes burning into your exposed skin. He allows the dagger to make a small, irritating cut on your neck to emphasise his point. Breathing comfortably would surely deepen the wound and seeing no way out, you give in and douse the fire inside of you, for now. You nod. He slowly removes his hand and you catch your first glimpse of him. His hand is pale and his nails are manicured. There is little hair and through his almost translucent skin, you see hints of dark veins. You feel his breath on your ear, it’s surprisingly warm for someone so cold.

His now free hand grips the plush skin of your arm and he moves the dagger to allow you to breathe as normal, but ensures that the threat remains. He guides you back to the, now quieter, battlefield. Minthara is on her knees, clutching her stomach, blood slipping through the gaps between her fingers. She coughs and gasps, lifting her head to see you, captured again. “T-true… S-soul…” Her words aren’t of sorrow, but of pride that you are still standing. She knows death will soon claim her, but you? You can finish her quest and bring glory to The Absolute. She grins. A greatsword’s blade, coated in thick red, is held beside Minthara’s neck. “Any last words, istik?” The githyanki sneers.

Minthara does not break her eye contact with you. “F-for… The Abso-” The sword traps her words in her throat forever, as it severs her head in one fell swoop. It rolls towards you, her now limp grin of devotion still smeared across her face.

You begin to breathe deeply… Heavily… You can’t breathe… You need air, now. You try to escape your captor’s grasp, you’re going to die, you’re sure of it. “Let her go!” The tiefling’s command frees your body and you feel your legs give out from underneath you. No matter how much air you suck into your lungs, you can only suffocate.

A warm, delicate hand rests on your back and rubs it in firm circles. “Breathe properly now. With me. In… And out…” A gentle, yet guarded voice attempts to guide you back to reality, but it isn’t working. The half-elf shrugs and looks to her companions for assistance, to which the githyanki scoffs and rolls her eyes. You rake your fingers through the soil, desperately trying to ground yourself when - Black. __________________________________________

How long has it been? Is this… Death? No, it feels too familiar. Sleep? It could be. It’s certainly peaceful… But it can’t be, mine doesn’t feel like this anymore. Mine is more… Restless… I haven’t felt like this in… Well, too long anyway…

No… Please don’t go… Just a little longer… Please… __________________________________________

The world is fuzzy when seeing it through barely open eyes. Green sways above you, sheltering you from sharp lines of yellow light. Your eyes open further. It’s midday, same as before, as though no time has passed. How much time has passed? You begin to sit up to get your bearings. “Woah there soldier, take it easy.” You flinch at the voice and search, eyes wide for danger. It’s the tiefling from earlier. “It’s okay! It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” You huddle yourself into a ball, keeping your eyes on hers and shuffle away. She smiles with such warmth you almost feel tempted to let your guard down, almost. “The name’s Karlach, and you are?”

“What makes you think I’d tell you? Your friend held a dagger to my throat!” You force anger through your fear and surprisingly, Karlach seems to understand. She sighs and nods, rubbing her face. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish there was no need for it, but you have to understand, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Before we can trust you and let you go, we need to know who you are.” You know better than to trust promises of freedom, but then you look around.

You seem to have found yourself in a humble camp, surrounded by one-person tents, hardly a prison. An unlit campfire stands in the centre and your captors are idly going about their business. All of them you recognise, all except one. A lean, pale elf with white, well kept curls meticulously arranged on his head. He stands, reading a book amongst neighbouring silk cushions that are scattered around the entrance of his tent. There’s even a stool right next to him, but he chose to stand. Weird. Watching him turn the page, you notice his familiar hands. You grit your teeth and furrow your brow. That’s the fucker that caught you.

Flicking your eyes back to Karlach, you can see how desperately she wants you to cooperate. You check your ankles and wrists, there are no restraints. “How long was I out for?” You ask in a dull, numb voice.

“A day.”

You nod, realising how energised you feel, a rare occurrence for you. “And… How?” Although you’re grateful for the rest, the last thing you remember was clawing at the ground, not exactly a bedtime routine.

“Oh… Ha ha… Well…” She gestures to her head sheepishly, you place your hand on yours and jolt at the sudden pain, a bandage covers a gnarly bump on the right side of your head, then the headache hits you. “Ugh… Gods…” You rub your eyes but doing so only produces stars, you lay back down.

“Yeah, sorry about that too, soldier.” You hear approaching footsteps, but moving to protect yourself right now would be too painful.

“So, she’s awake at last… What now?” Asks a gentle, male voice. You try to peer through the stars to see which companion it is. You see… Purple. This must be the wizard.

“Yes, what now, indeed? Shall I get my tools and see what information I can get out of her?” You recognise this as the familiar voice of the half-elf.

“With all due respect, Shadowheart, I think she’s a bit… Out of it. Maybe adding more pain into the mix isn’t such a good idea.”

“Alright, what do you suggest?” She asks, clearly disappointed and irritated.

“You could start by sparing some magic and healing that wound on her head. She can’t even speak.” Shadowheart sighs and reluctantly casts Cure Wounds, your vision clears and the pain subsides.

Thank the Gods…

Finding your strength, you sit up once again and your eyes meet the wizard’s. His features are soft, kind, though you suppose looks can always be deceiving. “Welcome back. Now, let’s cut to the chase. You don’t trust us, we don’t trust you, that much is clear. But, we can help each other. And I’ll get into the ‘how’ of it all soon enough, but for now, I’ll settle for your name. I’m Gale, of Waterdeep.” He reaches his hand out to shake yours. You inspect it, searching for trickery, then you look at his face. He has a friendly, inviting smile and you sense no ulterior motive. You take his hand and shake it gently. “Tav.”

“Tav! Excellent.” Once you let go, he claps his hands and turns to his companions. “This is Shadowheart, our fierce cleric.” He gestures towards her, she forces a smile but unsuccessfully hides her distaste for the introduction. “And you’ve met Karlach.” She waves at you excitedly, seeming proud of you for opening up, just a little. She emanates friendliness, you can’t help but smile back. “Let’s see… That’s Lae’Zel, our resident githyanki.” He points her out, upon hearing her name, she looks over, sees you and immediately scoffs before returning to her task. “Over here we have Wyll, ‘The Blade of…”

“The Blade of the Frontiers, at your service.” The one who bent the dead to his will approaches and performs a grand bow. “My lady.” You raise an eyebrow.

Is this guy for real?

You smile and nod politely. You take in his features as he raises his head. Brown skin, facial scars and one eye seemingly made of stone. Intriguing…

“And last but… Eh… not least, Astarion. The stealthiest of the bunch.” He doesn’t look up from his book, he just makes a vague, waving, hand gesture. You raise an eyebrow again, but this time you make no effort to conceal your judgement.

“Yes, I remember.” Just as you’re about to look away, you spot a smirk on his face. The prick.

“So, now that we’re all well acquainted, maybe now you could tell us everything you know about this ‘Absolute’, yes?” Gale looks at you expectantly.

“Hold on, you said we could help each other. What am I getting out of this?” The companions exchange worried glances before Karlach takes over.

“Well that all depends on your answers to our questions, soldier.” She looks at you apologetically.

“Seriously? You want me to give you all this information for the mere chance that you could give me something in return? Yeah, no thanks.” A moment of tension passes.

“We know what’s in your head and we have them too!” The words practically burst out of Karlach’s mouth, to everyone’s disapproval. Gale brings his hands to his head, eyes wide in disbelief at Karlach’s lack of control, Shadowheart essentially slaps her hand into her face, holding it there in disappointment, and Wyll just pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, shaking his head. You get the slight feeling that you weren’t supposed to know that.

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, that little worm in your skull. We all have one.” Shadowheart admits in defeat.

“How did you…?”

“Minthara, she called you True Soul. That seems to be the name for people like us.” Gale explains. “However, none of us have succumbed to ceremorphosis yet, nor are we under this ‘Absolute’s’ control. We want to understand why. Any information you can give us would be greatly appreciated.” You listen intently, his explanation that only fills your mind with further questions. You ask about ‘ceremorphosis’ and process the definition.

“I’m sorry, what now? You’re-… I’m-… We’re turning into MIND-FLAYERS?!”

“No- well, maybe? We aren’t quite sure. All we know is that our infection has been highly irregular thus far.”

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! Interesting how Minthara left that fucking detail out!

“In any case, we’re searching for a cure. Please, if you know anything, anything at all, we need all the help we can get.” Gale pleads.

“And soldier, you do too.” You look up at Karlach who’s smile alone brings you down from another episode. You take a deep breath.

“A-alright…” You go on to describe your experience in the goblin camp and repeat all the information that Minthara shared with you during your time there. As you reach the point in the story of the ‘interrogation’, you are… selective with the details. Choosing to describe your actions through the eyes of a mere, horrified spectator rather than the confused, active participant you truly were. Astarion’s mouth twitches at your story as he cocks his head to the side. He seems intrigued. Too intrigued. The others listen and nod thoughtfully as you speak.

Once finished, they stand there in silence, processing. You search their faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of what their judgement of you will be. Gale breaks the silence: “Just a moment.” He gathers all companions, including Astarion and Lae’zel around the campfire, just out of earshot from you. You watch as each one has a turn to speak, occasionally glancing at you before returning to the conversation. It’s a passionate discussion between very strong personalities, it’s a wonder how they’ve remained allies for longer than a day. Eventually, you see nods of agreement, some begrudging and some pleased as they all turn and walk towards you.

Gale steps forward and attempts a formal speech pattern: “So… Tav, was it? We… we cannot, in good conscience, leave you to the, er- aforementioned fate. And so, we would like to extend an invitation to accompany us on our journey, as we search for a cure. What do you think?” You think for a moment, feeling all six pairs of eyes on you.

You sigh as you come to the realisation that you don’t have much choice. It’s either this, or ceremorphosis. You nod, yet still feel their unsure gaze. You give in and say the words: “Yes, alright. I’ll join you.”

You feel your companions relax… mostly. Lae’zel isn’t hiding how displeased she is with the arrangement before she leaves to tend to her collection of weaponry. Your stomach growls, no, roars. Loudly. It’s been over twenty-four hours and you haven’t had a single bite to eat. Karlach chuckles “You know what, mate? Me too. Gale, dinner time!” She taps her tummy as she follows Gale to the makeshift food station. Shadowheart leaves to light the campfire and Wyll smiles at you before helping her.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… and six.

Astarion stood, resting his weight on one hip, watching you. You look up at him, making eye contact. The slight warmth you feel towards your newfound companions grows colder once he is in your view. A brief look becomes a fight for dominance, neither party willing to lose. “Can I help you?” Your voice is laced with contempt, yet the only effect you have on him is widening his insufferable grin. He holds you in suspense for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t like me.” His tone is playful, flirty even.

“Hard to. First impressions are everything.” You slide yourself off the stone slab you used as a bed to face him properly, trying to regain control.

“Oh darling, you know I only did that because I had to.” He laughs and tilts his head down, intensifying his gaze, effortlessly. He steals a glance at the small cut on your neck, the corner of his mouth twitches in the thrill of knowing that he put it there. “But enough about the past. You’re one of us now, we should be… Acquainted. Don’t you agree?” You fold your arms and allow him to continue under the weight of your suspicious stare. “Well, I don’t know about you, but the idea of waking up to a dagger lodged in my chest doesn’t sound particularly appealing.”

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” You smirk back at him, unfolding your arms and finding your wide hips before resting on them with your hands. He steps closer and speaks softer.

“No, not scared. I just don’t trust those who withhold the truth.” Your smirk drops and your mind races.

What does he know? How could he know? No, this is stupid, there’s no way…

“Oh don’t worry darling, I would have trusted you even less if you had laid, whatever it is, bare for us all to see. That’s why I voted to let you stay.” You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “And just so you know, I didn’t tell the others.”

“Why not? What loyalty do you have to me?”

“Oh, absolutely none, my dear… But, you never know when an ally might be useful.” He chuckles to himself, tucking his hair behind his pointed ear.

“You’re a smug one, aren’t you?”

“Hmm… Some say smug, some say charming, it’s all the same really when you get what you want. So… Allies?” He leans in, expecting an agreeable reply. You scoff at his audacity before rolling your eyes and giving him what he wants.

“Allies.”

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

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

56 notes · View notes