#here I am living in a village now and it's harder for me to have a social life as a result

[undefeatednils]

I'm not made for dating apps or clubbing...

More thoughts in tags bc I ugh.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

My Fair Lady's Maid (Regency!Aemond x Lady's Maid!Reader)

Part 3: With a Little Bit of Luck

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: none

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Finally had a burst of inspiration for this last night, and here we are!

With a Little Bit of Luck

Miss Doolittle stood at the base of the stairs in her little basement apartment. It wasn’t really an apartment, even if she’d lived there for nearly three years. In truth, it was a cellar. The owner of the house above had graciously put a small bed in it when she first rented it, but he also continued to keep his winter stores and several chests of assorted junk there, taking up nearly half the space.

Still, it wasn’t so bad. Back then, when she hadn’t wanted to go out, see anyone, or do anything, those chests of junk had entertained her. And she loved the smell of the dried apples. Even if it was small, it was cozy. There was enough room for everything she owned in the world, which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

All of it was now stuffed into her rucksack; still, the bag wasn’t full. It likely would have been if she’d been able to buy that clock at the market yesterday, but she didn’t want to think about that now. She was already too sad.

It didn’t make sense, her sadness. She was leaving this cave to go and live in a manor house. She would never be woken by rats again, and she would have enough money to buy a hundred clocks. But this had been her home for the past three years.

She squared her chin and adjusted the strap of her rucksack. She’d started over before. It was how she ended up here. And this time… this time would be easier, she knew it.

So, she walked up the stairs and out of that little basement, hoping she had enough time to run one last errand before the cart from Kingswood came to take her to her new home.

The village green, like her apartment, could not truly be called its name. Not since the village council decided to put gravel paths all over it and plant all kinds of trees, bushes, and flowers in most of the blank spaces between the paths, while others were left empty for vendors to set up for market day. It was pretty, but it made crossing the green and finding the person she was looking for even harder.

Luckily, he seemed to be in a good mood today. All she had to do to find him was follow the sound of his fiddle.

“Egg?” she called when she came to a patch of trees and bushes that were now big enough to obstruct her view. She knew he was somewhere in there, but she couldn’t see him.

His bow scratched against his fiddle before falling silent. “Is that you, Little Girl?”

She wanted to protest the nickname but didn’t. He’d been calling her that since she was a little girl, and he was a vagabond teenage boy who played the prettiest music she’d ever heard. “It’s me.”

The bushes rattled, and a moment later, the man Miss Doolittle knew as ‘Egg’ burst into the open and hugged her so hard she nearly fell over.

“God, am I happy to see you!” He started spinning her back and forth, and several trinkets spilled out of her bag. “I thought I’d missed my chance to say goodbye!”

She finally gave up resisting and smiled as she hugged him back. “Not yet. They aren’t picking me up ‘til noon.” Which left them a little under a quarter-hour to catch up before she had to meet the Kingswood coachman in front of the church.

Egg finally set her down, running a hand over his shaved head. She’d never actually asked if he shaved it, but he was too young to be bald, and she’d seen several nicks on the back of his head that looked like they came from a razor. He immediately bent down to pick up the knick-knacks he’d accidentally forced her to spill. “If I’d known you were leaving Rosby, I would have come back sooner. Why didn’t you send a letter?”

“Where would I send it? You only stay in the same place for a week at most.” Besides, she didn’t have much spare money to spend on sending a letter. “You leave as soon as your bar tab gets too high.”

“True,” Egg admitted. He finally finished tucking her trinkets away, then strapped his fiddle to his back and offered his arm. “And it seems I’ll have to add Kingsgrave to the rotation if I ever want to see my Little Girl again, even though it’s quite far.”

She looked over at him, confused. “I’m not goin’ to Kingsgrave. I’m goin’ to Kingswood.”

He stopped suddenly, tugging on her arm hard to get her to face him. He wasn’t smiling anymore. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen Egg not smiling before. It unsettled her.

“You’re going to work at Kingswood?”

She nodded.

“What position?”

“I’ll be a lady’s maid.”

“To Lady Helaena?”

“Yes.”

He bit his lips. He wasn’t just not smiling. He was angry. His eyes had grown dark, and his brow furrowed.

“Is that bad? Have you heard bad things about Lady Helaena? I know they say she’s odd, but I haven’t heard anyth – ”

“I have no quarrel with Helaena, no. I just…”  He again ran a hand over his head, his fingers digging into the skin in a way Miss Doolittle was sure was painful. He tucked his chin in for a moment and took a deep breath before looking back up. He was smiling again, but it was strained. “I’m just worrying about my Little Girl. Ignore me. Helaena is very kind.”

She sighed in relief, slumping into his side as they began walking again. “That’s good. I’ve been lookin’ forward to this for so long, I’d hate if it ended up a nightmare.”

Egg looked at her with a brow raised. “You’ve been looking forward to this?”

“Well, yeah.” His tone sounded doubtful. Did he not think she could do the job? “I know I’ve never had an actual job before, but I do now. I’ll work real hard, I swear it. I’ll be a proper lady in no time, you’ll see.”

“I’ve no doubt you can be a proper lady,” Egg said while ruffling her hair. “I just don’t know if I want you to be. I like you very well, just as you are, I’ll have you know.”

She liked herself too, mostly. Sometimes she wished she was taller or had prettier hair. Every once in a while she took a dislike to the color of her eyes, but it usually faded. Whenever she had to decide whether to pay rent or buy a nice warm meal at the pub, she wished she was someone else entirely.

But if she were taller, it would have been hard to climb down the small staircase to her cellar. If her hair was different, Harry wouldn’t have told her how much he liked it almost every time she saw him. And if her eyes were a different color, she wouldn’t be reminded of her mother every time she caught her reflection.

“I’m not going to become a whole new person,” she declared. Egg looked dubious as he led her to sit on a stone bench across the road from the church. “Just… more refined. Now stop griping at me and talk about something else!”

Egg threw his head back in a great, wide smile as he laughed. “Only since it’s your last day in Rosby, Little Girl. What do you want to talk about?”

The first topic that came to mind was the two men from yesterday, the kind one and the brute. But that was too maddening. “You know about Lady Helaena, right?” He nodded. “Then tell me about the rest of them?”

He hesitated for a long while before he bit his cheek and began. “They’re the same as all the others. The lord of the house has a stick shoved so far up his ass he can’t bend over. The grandfather is a desperate social climber. The th.. second son is something of a rake, but good-hearted. Helaena though, she’s a good girl. Strange, but good. She’s very kind, like you. I think you’ll get along. … How do you feel about insects?”

Miss Doolittle laughed. “I’ve lived in a dirty basement for three years. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Egg said with a secretive smile.

God, she was going to miss him. His humor, his music, that smile. It had been very easy to fall in love with him when she was a girl, though she’d since grown out of it. He was one of her dearest friends, but far too… Egg for her to ever truly love or marry him. Still, she was envious of how happy he always was, even with no money in his pockets.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” She dug through her knapsack to find the little coin purse she’d made from a beautiful curtain Mrs. Cunningham discarded when it was torn. She extracted the two crowns and one half-crown she had left over from what that horrible man had thrown at her the day before. “These are for you.”

Egg’s blue eyes went wide. “Where the hell did you get that?”

She thought for a moment how much to tell him before deciding on simply, “A customer.”

His surprise melted into mischief. “What kind of customer?”

“What, exactly, are you implying?”

“Nothing! Just wondering if you’d decided to sell something other than flowers, and if so, how much you charge? Because I’ll give these right back if…”

“You’re disgusting!” she shrieked as she hit him with her bag over and over until he finally held his hands up in concession.

“You have my sincere apology.” He righted his mussed clothes, then looked at her. “But really, Little Girl, why are you giving me these?”

Because just looking at them makes me want to vomit. She sighed. “Because I don’t need it – I’ll be making my own money soon. You need it, though.”

Egg’s eyes turned thoughtful and soft. It was the kind of look she would once have swooned over. “You’re too kind. I worry you’ll lose that at Kingswood. That place and those people will wring it out of you if you let them. Promise me you won’t?”

“I promise,” she whispered, dropping the coins into his outstretched hand. She wrapped her hand around his, closing his fingers around the money. “If you promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

He laughed, shaking their joined hands. “I’ll do my best. But with a little bit of luck, I’ll always have people like you around to help me out.”

She started to chide him, to warn him that he’d eventually need to learn to rely on himself, even if she knew he’d only laugh it off. But a sharp whistle and the crack of a whip sounded from the end of the street, and both their heads turned to find its source.

A two-horse cart had turned onto the main road. Not an unusual sight in itself, especially for a market town. But it wasn’t market day. And it was no ordinary cart, but one she’d only ever seen in illustrations in books. The cart of daring gentlemen and rakes. Its back wheels were twice the size of those in the front and carried seats made of green-painted wood and black leather that gleamed in the sunlight.

“Of course, they sent the fucking phaeton,” Egg murmured, giving a name to the vehicle. He stood quickly, pulling her up with him, and embraced her tightly. “Good luck, Little Girl. I’ll miss you.”

Then, he left. Releasing her from his grasp so swiftly she stumbled back a step. By the time she’d caught her breath, he was gone, without even the music of his fiddle to hint at where he’d gone.

“I’ll miss you too,” she whispered to the wind, hoping it would carry her words to him.

Only a few hours later, she was stepping out of the cart and onto the gravel drive of the Kingswood Estate.

The estate itself sprawled across half the woods, according to the coachman, Arryk, who had informed her when they officially crossed onto the property miles ago. The house, a term which seemed to Miss Doolittle to be a massive understatement, was near the center of it, within a smaller, but still enormous, gated park.

It was beautiful, with pale stone walls coated with ivy, gleaming glass windows framed with iron, and surrounded by flowers of every shape and color. And it was to be her new home.

Well, she was to be one of its servants. But still. Servants could call it home, too.

But what servants could not do was enter through the main doors. Instead, Arryk led her around the side of the house and through a smaller, much dirtier door into a stiflingly hot kitchen.

A woman who appeared to be around two hundred years old – the cook, presumably – barked orders at several kitchen maids with such ferocity it was a wonder that fire spewed only from the oven and not her mouth. As young men in fine suits filed into the room and began picking up silver trays laden with steaming food, the woman took a deep breath and started yelling at them instead.

Arryk leaned closer to Miss Doolittle. “Don’t do anything to get on Cook’s bad side,” he whispered, what sounded like genuine fear wavering in his voice. “She’ll roast you alive.”

As if she had heard him, the cook whirled around on him, her warm brown eyes blazing like hot coals. “What are you standing around for, Mr. Cargyll?” she bellowed. “And who’s this little waif?”

“Lady Helaena’s new maid.” His voice cracked like a boy’s.

The old woman huffed as those burning eyes examined her intently. “Put her in Mrs. Rivers’ sitting room and get out. I’ll not have you tracking horse shit in my kitchen.”

Arryk nodded hastily, the movement like that of a soldier accepting a command from his general. He took two steps forward, indicating Miss Doolittle should follow when he and everyone in the kitchen froze where they were.

Miss Doolittle followed their stunned gazes to the base of a narrow staircase and the two people who had just descended.

The first was a woman, neither old nor young, with deep black hair that flowed down her back in a long, silky sheet. Though she wore the dress of a servant, the keyring hanging from her waist indicating that she was likely the housekeeper, there was a certain power in her green gaze that made Miss Doolittle think the woman had been a queen in some other life.

But the thought did not last long, for her eyes drifted to the man standing just behind the housekeeper.

Shit.

The finest man she’d ever seen. With silver hair, one eye of crushing blue, one a milky white, and an angry red scar running across his face.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She hadn’t even met Lady Helaena, and she was about to be sacked.

Or, judging by the wicked delight in the man’s eyes and his crooked smile, perhaps she was about to be eaten alive.

The housekeeper turned to face the man, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Lord Aemond, do you know this girl?”

Lord Aemond.

Forget being sacked or eaten. He could simply have her executed. It may even be a mercy, to spare her the humiliation that burned within her like a thousand raging bonfires.

He turned to the housekeeper, the movement too graceful and smooth. “I’m afraid I do.” He looked back at Miss Doolittle. No, he looked past her. “Mr. Cargyll, I will not be needing you to take me to Rosby tomorrow, after all.”

Then, he did look at her, and the cold in his eyes felt like an icicle shoved through her heart. She wanted to run. To scream. To shrink into nothing just to escape him. She wanted to run all the way back to Rosby, find Egg, and beg him to take her far, far away from here.

But she remained where she was, under the hateful gaze of her new employer, unable to so much as blink as he smiled a ruthless, joyless smile. “I’ve been hoping to see you again, flower girl. I have a proposition for you.”

Egg’s joyous, carefree voice echoed in her mind.

With a little bit of luck.

He’d never specified whether it was good luck or bad luck.

[howi99]

A story of a Knight and a Yokai (part 1?)

(Btw, if you are a touhou fan, go read Osana Reimu. And if you are not, still go read it. It's the entire reason why i'm writing this)

RK: *waking up on a road* ... Wha... I'm alive? ... Guess the poison wasn't strong enough to kill me. *Get up, still feeling weak* Damn, what DID she put in that soup? It's like being inside a bullhead... *Looks around, not seeing Juniper... Or anything remotely recognizable* Is that... A temple? Where am i?

Nothing but the wind answered him

RK: Tsk, that's just great. No, really that's just perfect. I so wanted something new in the pile of crap that is my current life. Now i need to find Juniper and go save those kids before the cat can... *As he spoke, Jaune felt like something wasn't right* Uh... *Looking at the sky, something was missing* wait, where's the tree?!

*crack*

RK: *turning to where the sound came from, his broken sword now unsheathed* Ok, seems i'm back in the real world. So Grimm's are back in play. *Small smile* Can't be harder than a manticore or a dragon.

A woman comes out from the forest

RK: ... Or i could also just be paranoid. *Sigh, re-sheathing his sword* Who comes there? And can i also get a direction to the nearest town or city?

The woman looks at him, perplexed

RK: ...! Oh uh yeah, the armor. Don't worry, i am not a bandit, i'm just lo-

Woman: Aren't you afraid of me?

RK: ... Why, you don't really radiate bloodlust or anything, so i don't really get why i should be afraid.

Woman: *looking at him even more perplexed* You... Do you know who i am?

RK: No idea.

Woman: Aren't you from the village?

RK: *look at himself then at her* I look like i just came out of a fantasy book, why would i come from anywhere near here?

Woman: But it doesn't make sense! How did you survive the Yokai?

RK: The what now?

Woman: *roll her eyes* Vampire, ghost and all that.

RK: ... Sorry to ask a weird question, but... Are we on remnant?

Woman: What?

RK: ... And here i hoped i was finally out of hell. *Sigh* Well, can i get the direction of the tree? I need to go kill a curious cat.

Woman: ... What tree? And cat? You mean Chen?

RK: Who the hell is Chen? No i mean the literal curious cat. You know, a trickster psychopath but in a literal cat body?

Woman: I mean... I never heard of him. As for the tree, i mean there's the forest of magic, but it's not like there's one specific magic tree.

RK: Isn't this the ever after?

Woman: ... No? This is Gensokyo.

RK: ... Tell me, is the moon shattered?

Woman: *sigh* Why would it be?

RK: *to himself* So either i'm before the gods left or... *Look at the woman* Last question, are the brother gods still living among men?

Woman: ... Who?

RK: *crestfallen, thinking to himself* I can't believe it... First i have to kill a friend so the world doesn't end. Secondly, i fell through the world and ended up in fantasy land so i could fuck up again by getting sent back in time. Thirdly, i waited centuries to get back to my timeline but discovered i was the hero from a book, try to follow the story only to get poisoned and now this? Is this a joke? Can life stop being a bitch for once?

Woman: *noticing the knight looking unwell* uh... You ok?

RK: *let himself fall face down to the ground, his aura protecting him by reflex* I think i will lay down and let myself die.

Woman: ... *Sigh, then mumble to herself* How low the most feared yokai has fallen. Can't believe him doing this... *Approach Jaune* Oi, get up.

RK: *face in dirt* Lef meh di.

Woman: *sigh again, then knell down to pick Jaune up like a sac of potato* You can't just die in the middle of the road. What would the people coming to the temple would say?

RK: *says nothing*

Woman: Tsk... Name's Rumia, if you were wondering. *Waiting for an answer* ... You are supposed to tell me yours, you know?

RK: ... I don't remember my name.

Rumia: Ah! What a joke! You look no older than 30, no way you forgot-

RK: *sigh* I'm centuries old, my aura kept me young by repairing any damage made to my body.

Rumia: *interested* What's that?

RK: What's what?

Rumia: Aura.

RK: Ah... Of course, new world new rules... Aura is the manifestation of the soul. It can protect, heal and make attacks more powerful.

Rumia: *nods* Seems useful.

RK: Yeah, there's also something called a semblance, which is derived from aura. It's an ability which is unique to every aura user with some exceptions.

Rumia: Hm, we have something similar here. But why would humans need this?

RK: ... *Sigh* Fine, i'll explain to you everything about my world, can you put me down?

Rumia: Will you lay down and wait for death again?

RK: I'll... find a better place.

Rumia: Oh, but can you wait before explaining everything? I know someone who will really want to listen to this!

RK: ... Sure.

Rumia: *putting him down* By the way, if you forgot your name, what should we call you?

RK: *shrug* I don't really care anymore. But the book i'm from called me the Rusted knight.

Rumia: *looking at his armor* Doesn't look that rusted to me.

RK: *shake his head* Well, they meant my sword... I assume.

Rumia: The broken piece of junk? Why didn't you throw it away?

RK: *thinking back at what he did* Long story and a part of my life i will never forget.

Rumia: Yesh, not a fan of talking about your past i see.

RK: Oh i don't mind talking about all my adventures, just... Not what came before.

Both of them start walking

Rumia: ... I think i should tell you that i'm technically a dangerous Yokai who eats humans.

RK: ... I see.

Rumia: You don't see surprised or upset.

RK: Well, you didn't try to eat me and i can see you are trying to make me less... Hateful toward myself? So i'm guessing the technically mean either you eat bad people, which i don't care for or you stopped... Which i'm fine with.

Rumia: *placing her arms behind her head* Second one. Got beaten half-dead by the drunkard who runs the place *sigh*

RK: *nods* Sounds rough. So she got you on a leash or-

???: Rumia!

RK: *look at the top of the stairs, seeing a woman wearing... A box for a mask?* ... I assume she's the drunkard?

Rumia: *smile* Yep, she's the one.

Crazy Woman?: *sigh, shaking her head* And here i was wondering where you were. Reimu was panicking when you bolted away. *Now noticing Jaune* Oh? You brought company? I never saw you in the village.

RK: I'm not from around here.

Crazy Woman?: Yeah, like half the village.

RK: Half the village comes from a world where animals talk, fruit make you travel in time and a giant tree keep bringing people back from the dead with a better body but no memory?

Crazy Woman?: ... Uh... N-no?

RK: *shrug* Eh, was worth a shot.

Crazy Woman?: *look at Rumia* Is... Is he... You know....

RK: I'm not mad... *Seems to think a bit* Nevermind, i meant i'm not that crazy. Living with no human interaction for centuries did drive me a bit crazy. Just enough to accept a lot of weird things as normal. Like your head accessory... Is that a donation box?

Crazy Woman?: Speaking of! *Walk down the stairs* You got money for the temple?

RK: *look inside his pockets* I got a copper piece, two silver drakki, a couple of gold coins and... Well, now i know where she found the poison. *Take the silvers and give them to the miko*

Crazy Woman?: *take them quickly* Oh oh! Nevermind the first impressions, i think i already like you, now!

Rumia: *getting impatient* Can we get going?

Crazy Woman?: Oh yeah, of course! *Goes back the stairs, humming a happy song*

RK: She seems happy.

Rumia: Well, you just gave away the equivalent of what she gets in a month.

RK: ... *Shrug then start walking up the stairs* Fair enough, i'd be happy too... I think? I completely forgot the value of money since silver was the least valuable in the ever after.

Rumia: *following him* Then what's the most valuable?

RK: Mithril, but i didn't have any on me. At least in money form.

Rumia: You got some?

RK: *point at his armor* It's mostly made of it. It takes years to rust and even then it only takes a bit to get rid of it. It's a good insulator, so it keeps me warm when it's cold and fresh when it's scorching hot. It's not really stronger than steel, but with my aura, i don't need it to be.

Rumia: *nods*

RK: It can also repair itself. Slowly, but it's better than having to wait for a smith to be available, you know?

Rumia: I honestly can't since i don't wear armor.

RK: Speaking of, what is the technology level here? We have scroll or?

Rumia: Scroll?

RK: Phone?

Rumia: In the human world, i think they have those? I'm not sure.

RK: Electricity and heated water?

Rumia: oh yeah, we got those.

RK: *sigh in relief* After all these years, a nice hot bath would be nice...

[elklounge]

Werewolf Lore Book found in The Quarry Game

Okay, where do I start? A few days ago I was playing The Quarry and trying to get screenshots of Travis. However, while in the Hackett House, I saw this book. I was curious if it said anything. Part of me wondered if it was just gibberish since the player can't really see it and it would just be for dressing the set and making the room look full. However, as I squinted I realized it said Curse of the Moonlight. I began to try multiple different methods to read the two pages of text. I couldn't find it in the game files and searching book didn't get me anywhere. However after some clipping and eye strain through using my glasses as a magnifying glass. Maybe this has already been discovered if so that's okay. I still just wanted to point this out. I am unsure which character was reading this. I want to say Chris Hackett since there are cigarettes present and the only other time I've seen them is in Chris' office as he smokes.

The text reads as the following:

Before the creation of the curse more than 23,000 years ago, the people of the old town, recognized the presence of an evil spirit, which successfully escaped from hell, broke all the spells which imprisoned it since the initial establishment of the Earth. Mankind had been struggling to fight and hopelessly defend themselves before the cruelty and the brutal behaviour of the beast. Finally, through all the tears and bloods, prayers and desperation, mankind lost to the creature and vanished. However, becasue of the vital impact and the destructive damage the conflict resulted, the Mother of Nature abandoned it from the ground, kept it in captivity under thousands of earth layers, for million of years.

The curse is supposed to be timeless. But unfortunately, some unconscious individuals summoned the beast with a deadly ancient magics and spells. Following the guide of the devils, they were forced to wake the monster from the deepest place that the humanity may ever know. Hence, every night when the moon shines the brightest, it will rise and hunt for human lives, as many as he can find, as much as he can fulfill the hunger through so many years, just until the sun rises to the fullest. And that became the story, which is then conveyed and spreaded from ears to ears, about this enigmatic forest.

Once upon a time, there was one said every journey is always full of unexpectancies and moreover, inevitable incidences. Stories have been told through centuries and decades, from villages to towns, from the elder to the youth. But not as the generations pass by or as the time fades, the curse has never been once broken. Whenever the reading is started, the moon will shine and the untamed creature will be released from your worst nightmare. Danger is triggered. And death follows.

Now, one is here in this place, reading these ambiguous is and wondering about everything. But he did not even noticed the wind has begun to blow harder and colder. The surroundings are frozen, not because of the weather, but due to one thing which is coming for the thirst of blood. The shelter is no longer a place to settle. It is now a deadly hunting area, dangerous obstacles, damaged constructions and mysterious blood stains.

In every step he takes, the traces will stay to wait for the beast. Like the last footprint he left during the last moment of his life. His scream will not be heard and his prayers will not be granted. He may survive but the terrified soul will last forever. His curiosity was the cause of the unfortunate event. And now he has to pay the bloody price and no savior would come to rescue.

Every moment he has now is priceless and vital. His life and the journey of survival depends on how he uses his last breaths. Which means now is the time that he needs to start to run.

My most insane attempt to read it which got me 2/3s of the way down the first page.

[starneteyam]

ELEGANT ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x Metkayina! Fem! Reader

🖇️ warn. None, fluff, very long

🎥 In which you are the eldest daughter of the chief of the Metkayina, and upon arrival of the Omitikayans, you fall for a particular someone

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

YOU WATCHED WITH a shaky breath as your father welcomed the forest people into your home, knowing what responsibilities you now held. The children of theirs seemed to be the same age as you and your siblings. “My children will guide your children.” Your father finished. “But father-” Started Ao’nung, stepping forward to complain, but you hushed him, stopping him with your arm. “That is enough, Ao’nung. We will treat them as our brothers and sister.” You told him, eyes piercing into his as a warning. You were the eldest, and your father had made sure you knew that. You must be responsible, noble, and elegant.

Ao’nung shut his mouth the second you opened yours, not opening it again. You stepped forward. “Who is the eldest?” You asked the Sully siblings, chin held high with pride. A boy, much larger and taller than you, stepped out of the crowd. “That would be me. I am Neteyam.” His voice was like liquid gold, beautiful and soft, both also mighty and stern. You held eye contact, before bringing your fingers to your forehead. “Oel ngati kameie.” (I see you), you said with grace, your voice gentle to prove your maturity. “Oel ngati kameie.” He greeted back, his eyes fluttering as he said so.

Tsireya grinned, excited by the newcomers and waving for them to follow. “Come, I will show you the village.” She laughed. It was not everyday that outsiders came, so you understood her joy, but you made sure to keep your calm. Your eyes flickered towards the eldest, who seemed like a reflection of you. He was quiet, and kept calm, unlike his childish siblings. His eyes met yours, and you couldn’t help but shy away. You silently cursed to yourself. He had won.

To live in the water, they would have to be able to ride an Ilu, the dire-horse of the sea. You knew they rode the tsurak, but taming an Ilu was much harder. You would have to withstand the weight and pressure of the water, while also making a connection with the Ilu. You stood in the water, next to Neteyam, a hand on the head of his Ilu to keep it in place. While Ao’nung, Rotxo, and Tsireya would try and teach Kiri, Lo’ak, and Tuktirey, you were in charge of teaching Neteyam.

“Remember, you must keep a good composure or the water will reject you.” You told him, signaling waves with your arms to teach better. “I understand.” He said, mounting his Ilu. “Be calm, imagine the waves and the water,” Your fingers gently caressed the water, “not the tides and the tsunamis.” You splashed the water, some getting on him. He laughed, and you found yourself laughing, too. You both flinched when there was a violent splash next to you, and watched as Lo’ak lost control of his Ilu and went speeding and crashing into the water. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t be like him.” You advised, to which he awkwardly laughed at, embarrassed by his brother.

You pulled him out of the water, onto the reef, just the two of you. “You are not very good at holding your breath.” You said in a soft voice, afraid of offending him. He only smiled shyly, making your cheeks warm. “Teach me.” He demanded, scooting closer to you. Surprised, you widened your eyes, ears flickering in caution. “Please.” He added. You let out a breath through your nose, nodding as you sat straight. “You must breathe in deep. But do not just breathe in, fill your lungs until your upper half is full.” You instructed, before breathing deeply through your mouth. He tried to copy, but you could tell he wasn’t doing it correctly by the way his breath sounded.

“Wrong.” You spat, sitting directly in front of him. “Start here.” You placed your hand on his stomach, not failing to notice how he flinched against your touch. He cleared his throat, before beginning to breathe in. You slowly traced your fingers up the middle of his stomach, to his chest, guiding his breathing. “Slowly, fill your lungs from the bottom of your stomach.” You mumbled. Your fingers lay gently on his broad chest, and you scowled. He wasn’t doing it correctly, again. “It is wrong.” You huffed.

His eyes flickered to yours. “Please, I cannot focus.” He said in a low voice, both of his hands gently grabbing yours that was on his chest, slowly pushing it towards yourself. You almost didn’t hear him, but you grew embarrassed because of your actions. “I am sorry.” You apologized, realizing how unprofessional you had been. “I am not.” He said, still gripping onto your hand. You stared at him, and he stared back. He was strange.

You sat with Neteyam on the deck, the two of you alone and laughing away, joking and sharing conversations. The sky was dark, the freckles on your face illuminating your faces, a single lamp sitting between you two as you both dipped your feet into the cold water. “No, like this. Thank you.” You slowly said, showing him the sign language. He clumsily did the same, and you smiled, proud for him. “Yes, exactly.” You laughed, covering your mouth. He laughed back.

The two of your laughters died down, now sitting in a comfortable silence, the sound of nature enveloping you. “What else would you like to learn?” You asked, tilting your head and resting your head on your own shoulder, swinging your feet against the water. He stayed silent, his mouth closing and opening repeatedly, obviously hesitant. “How do you say, you are beautiful?” Your head turned towards him, eyes wide in surprise. But you quickly recollected yourself. He probably didn’t mean it for you, you told yourself.

He must have another woman back at Omiticaya, though they would probably never meet again. Even so, he didn’t say that to you. “You are beautiful.” You said, slowly doing the gestures with your hands. He stared dead at you, eyes half lidded, entranced with your beauty. “You are beautiful.” He echoed, his voice softer and quieter than before, but with more truth. You ignored him. He didn’t mean it for you.

You followed behind Neteyam, hearing noises of your siblings fighting. When you arrived, there stood Ao’nung, Rotxo, Kiri, and Lo’ak, all glaring daggers at each other. Neteyam stepped forward against your little brothers, menacingly. “You heard him. Don’t touch my sister.” He warned, a finger pointed in Ao’nung’s face. Ao’nung, hesitant, but complied. He raised his hands in defeat, a smirk on his face. You watched, embarrassed of your brothers, as Neteyam and his siblings turned to leave. You stepped forward, your brother and his friends noticing you and immediately cowering upon seeing the angered expression on your face.

“You fools. You are stupid, and childish. You bring embarrassment and shame to our people!” You whisper yelled, deciding not to raise your voice in front of the Sully siblings to keep some pride. Then, Lo’ak turned, raising his hand in front of Ao’nung’s face. “You know what? Yeah, I may be part alien. Look, look, you see that?” He explained, waving his five fingers in front of Ao’nung’s face. “But here’s a cool thing I can do. Watch. If I fold my fingers like this, and then I-” He cut himself off, swinging at Ao’nung’s face and hitting him square in the jaw.

You gasped, watching as Lo’ak hit him two more times, before Ao’nung sprung back at him, the two of them tangled on the floor as they fought one another. Rotxo soon joined in, holding Lo’ak back, before Neteyam got involved. You stood next to Kiri, watching the boys fight like idiots. Kiri laughed, amused, while you huffed. You were a woman, you would not fight. But you were a sister, so you would stop them. “Stop, Ao’nung. Stop!” You yelled, pulling Ao’nung back by the shoulders, him resisting as he tried to hit Lo’ak once more. “Stop!” You got on your knees to pull him back, until you felt Ao’nung’s elbow connect with your face.

Movement stopped, and everybody stood still. Kiri stopped laughing, mouth now hung open. You may fight a boy like a fool, or make fun of a girl’s strangeness — but you do not touch a man’s daughter. Ao’nung held his breath, afraid, while the Sully siblings stared in anticipation. You turned your head towards your brother’s, eyes wide and full of fury, nose scrunched and teeth baring in anger. You stood up. “Stand.” You ordered.

Ao’nung did not stand. “Stand!” You yelled, him flinching as he did so. “Come.” You said, voice shaking from rage as you tried to keep your calm. You refused to humiliate your reputation any further in front of the eldest of the son of Toruk Makto. You stood still, him slowly walking towards you, afraid. He yelped as you grabbed his braid, before pushing him in front of you, walking off.

You stood next to Neteyam the next day, just in the middle of apologizing for your brother’s actions from the day before, when Ao’nung ran up to the both of you. “Neteyam.” He summoned, standing in front of you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, the expression on his face displaying that he did something regrettable. “Forgive me, but your brother…” He trailed off, trying to find the words to say it. You sneered, hitting the side of his head with your palm. “Spit it out!” You urged.

“Well, he had come and asked for forgiveness, so for truce, we drove him out to the outer reefs. We had left him there, as a joke, but he was attacked by a creature.” He spat out. Your hands covered your mouth, both in shock and fear. You nervously looked at Neteyam, and anger and anxiousness showed on his face. You grit your teeth. Nothing in this world could express the anger you felt towards your brother. “You idiot! You fool!” You hit him with your fist, hard on his skull, but he only felt a bit of pain, as you were only meat and bones. “We must go find Jake’Suli, but after, I will kill you myself.” You then snarled at him, your teeth showing as you hissed.

“Hitting my brother is forgiven. Leaving him for death is not.” Neteyam scowled, grabbing Ao’nung by the braid. On any other occasion, you would defend your brother, but right now, you couldn’t even look at him.

Lo’ak was found with bruises and scratches, but no major injuries. Your heart hurt, seeing what your brother and his childish friends had done to him. You stood next to your mother, your family standing tall as Jake Sully and his family stood before you. Jake didn’t seem too angry, probably not wanting to make it a big deal. His siblings, nonchalant. His mother was angry, but at Lo’ak. You thought Neytiri was beautiful. She was noble and filled with pride, but brave and strong.

You held your head down in shame, knowing how much trouble you were in. You were in charge of your brother. This was your fault.

“Come on, Lo’ak.” Jake Sully said, hand on his back as his family walked away. Your father turned to Ao’nung. “Is this true, Ao’nung? Did you try to stop Lo’ak from going over the reef?” He asked, hand on your brother’s shoulder. Ao’nung sighed, nodding. You knew this was a lie, and you became more disappointed in your brother. You made note to scold him harshly, later. Then, your father turned to you, and you flinched.

“You. Where were you?” Your mother snarled, and you held your chin low, hands in front of you. “I was apologizing to Neteyam for Ao’nung’s actions from the day before, ma’am.” You spoke quietly. Your father stayed silent. “And you will apologize to his family again. Go.” Your father ordered, shooing you off. You bowed your head, shooting a glare at Ao’nung, before running after the Sully family. You reached their home quietly, slowing down and listening in to make sure you came at a good time.

You peered into their home, not seeing Lo’ak, but only Tuktirey in her mother’s arms, Jake scolding Neteyam. “And where were you? What happened to watching your brother?” He said, his voice not raised, but stern and full of authority. You felt a chill on your back. Jake Sully was dominating, and even you could feel that. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault, sir.” Your heart ached, watching Neteyam. You knew exactly what it felt like. You stepped forward, their heads turning to you and acknowledging your presence.

“I am sorry for interrupting. I have come to apologize for my idiot brother.” You stepped closer, trying not to cower from the intense stares of Jake and Neytiri. “I have no excuse.” You finished. Jake let out a sigh, a small smile on his face. He placed a hand on top of your head, as if viewing you as his daughter. “Don’t worry about it.” He comforted, and you stared at the ground. “Tell your father we’re truly sorry for Lo’ak.” He said, his hands now crossed in front of his chest.

You shook your head. “He has already forgiven.” You said, knowing your father would say the same thing. Jake smiled. “You’re dismissed.” He said softly. You hesitated, staring at Neteyam, him staring at you back. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jake, and he waved his arm. “You too. Get out of here.” He gestures towards Neteyam. He bowed his head, jogging to catch up to you as the two of you left. “I must admit, it is charming how responsible you are.” You let the words slip out your mouth, and his ears flickered. He was nervous.

“Thank you.” He murmured shyly. The two of you walked in silence, but a question lingered your mind. Your cheeks warmed, just thinking about it. You opened your mouth, finally. “Have you chosen a woman, back at Omiticaya?” Your voice was so quiet, part of you wishing he didn’t hear you — but he did. He stopped in his tracks, his tail swinging behind him. He let out a breath. “What?” You felt embarrassment from the question, so you turned your head. “Never mind.”

He stepped in front of you, his hands on your shoulders so you would look at him. “I- I have not chosen a woman. Yet.” He added, an urgency in his voice. You couldn’t help but feel glad at his answer, smiling. “Has a man chosen you?” He mumbled. Your ears twitched, nervous as his hands on his shoulders slid down your arms, holding your wrists. “I have not chosen them back.” You whispered, moving your arms so your hands would be in his.

He held his hands out, and you traced your fingers along the tiny scars on his palms. “But I have chosen, now.” You said in a hushed tone, your eyes averting from his hands to his eyes. His hands gripped yours, eyes flickering between you and your lips. “Then so have I.” He whispered as he leaned in. Your heart was beating out of your chest, closing your eyes. You felt his lips on yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a breath, as if saying “finally”.

He smiled into the kiss, your lips moving in perfect synchronization. His hands let go of yours, cupping the sides of your face. Yours laid gently on his stomach as he deepened the kiss. You felt your throat tighten up, wanting to laugh in joy. You have never knew that you could feel this way — not until him. He pulled away, out of breath, and you laughed. “You are still horrible at taking deep breaths.” You teased, and he laughed back.

“I can not take deep breaths if my heartbeat is fast.” He took your hand and placed in on his chest, above his heart. Indeed, his heart was beating out of his chest. You stayed in silence, eyes lingering on each other. “I see you.” You whispered. He closed his eyes, placing his forehead against yours. “I see you.” He said back, not a single ounce of hesitance in his voice.

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter VIII: My Tears Ricochet

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: All secrets are revealed and both you and Neteyam have to live with the consequences of your actions.

Warnings: pure angst, mentions of death, mental illness, addiction, self-injury, limited mentions of Y/N, did i mention angst, angst and more angst?

Word Count: 10,3k words (the first couple chapters were 3k, how did we get here??!)

A/N: This chapter killed me a little inside. I cried multiple times writing it, so I guess fair warning. I wanted really badly to build strong, round characters who had flaws and strengths and strong reasoning for acting a certain way/doing certain things. I wanted to write this story from both character's perspective, so it is clear that in life, each person will think they are right, that their reasoning was the correct one, when in reality, we are all a little right and a little wrong in everything we do, and it is always worth trying to see things from the other's perspective. We are coming towards the end of this first series, so I hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of this journey. As always, thank you so much for everyone who engaged with it, I loved reading ALL of your comments and replies, they really make my day.

(Also, I feel like I am playing my own little game of "how many Taylor Swift and OG Avatar lyrics/quotes/references I can reasonably fit in a story without it being obnoxious" and I can't tell if I'm winning or not.)

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

You registered the girl asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t see in front of you, the entire room spinning like the inside of a mirrorball. You felt your body rise from where it was sat next to Neteyam’s, and shakily made your way out. Neteyam’s mate. Neteyam’s mate was next to you, asking you if you need help. It all got too much, and you lunged your body forwards and threw up on the ground next to your tent. You were panting, trying to somehow get a grasp on your mind and push the hurt aside, enough so you can see and hear the world around you.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” you manage to blurt out weakly.

You heard more commotion, and faintly made out Jake’s voice and his arm on your shoulder, trying to bring you back to them.

“Neteyam, what the hell happened?”

You didn’t hear Neteyam speak. He was quiet and you were glad. You didn’t want to hear his voice, not now, and not for the rest of your life.

The world came back to focus eventually, and you spit aggressively trying to get rid of the taste of acid in your mouth. You removed Jake’s hand from your back, and left. The thought of speaking or even looking at any of them was too much to bear. You ran, harder than you ever had before, back to where you just came from, the Ikran nest in the village. You immediately recognised your own, beautiful, gold and white, pure, unlike the rest of this world. Neyn (light colours, shades of white)… fitting name, you thought. You made the tsaheylu quickly, and without a second thought, took off.

FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE III: DEPRESSION

You had no thoughts as you flew above the forest and made your way towards the general direction of the Hallelujah mountains. You realised you didn’t know where you were going, you didn’t know how you were going to find your way back, but it didn’t matter. Were you even going to ever return? There were no tears, no sadness, just emptiness. The pieces of your heart broke so finely they turned into dust, blown away in the wind of the night. Eventually you found the mountains, easy enough to spot, even in the darkness, the fluorescent flora marking the territory with an easy-to-see glow. You flew like this, for enough time that your lungs were running out of breath and your skin felt battered by the wind, but you kept going. You felt so free, so weightless. There was a calmness to your thoughts that you haven’t felt in years, probably since your mother died.

You saw a distant mountain that looked brighter than the others, and you made your way to it and were amazed to find a little cave in it, bright and colourful, a little piece of heaven on a planet that was heaven in and of itself. Neyn landed softly on the edge of the mountain and you dismounted effortlessly and approached her head, giving her pets on her neck, to which she cooed gently. She was the only friend you had, you realise. You were all alone.

“Neteyam, what happened?”

Neteyam was dragged in the tent by his dad, who was fuming. No matter what feelings his dad was feeling, they couldn’t compare to Neteyam’s anguish and terror. Why the hell was she there? She just had to wait another couple of hours and this would have never happened.

“She was patching my wound up when Tiongli came in the tent, announcing to the world she is my mate. Said mother told her about my injury.”

“Don’t you dare blame this on your mother, boy.” the Sully patriarch’s nose was flared, eyes looking at him intensely with anger and disappointment. Neteyam’s eyes filled with tears, and he felt his heart hurting so much like the gash was there instead of his arm.

“I was going to tell her tonight, dad. After dinner. I was going to tell her everything, and I was going to ask her to be my mate. I was going to come to you both and ask you to undo the engagement. I understand that a year and a half ago I gave up on her, I did it for a reason, I thought there was no future for us, and that we were hurting each other. But things have changed. She has changed. She’s going to be one of the people soon and I want her to be mine.”

“Neteyam, you can’t undo the engagement. You have known Tiongli your whole life, her family’s been expecting this since you were both young. You gave your word before Eywa, son.”

“I love her, dad. Do you understand that? I have loved her all of my life. It killed me having to leave, it killed me knowing there was no future, because she was human. But she’s not just human anymore. I was willing to go through with this for the sake of the village, for the sake of the family and the future, but if there is any chance I can have the love of my life by my side, instead, I will cling on to it for dear life. Mother was betrothed to uncle Tsu’tey, and she gave that up for you. It was done before Eywa, and she didn’t care. Because she loved you and she knew that was enough. She gave up being Tsahik, her birth right, so she can have you. I will not give up on her, dad. Mother wouldn’t have given up on you.”

“I have to find her. I have to make this right.”

You were sprawled on your back, feeling goosebumps form along your limbs from the cold grass. You were staring at the sky, noticing the bright stars you now knew were actually bright death sentences, each of them beautiful and devastating. Will you even still be alive when they come? Will everything you have gone through these few months matter? Will everything you have gone through in this life matter? All the pain, and the hurt, and the grief, just so you can die at 18 from a virus. The universe was cruel, you thought. It was a fitting end, though. Meaningless and daft, like your entire life was. Born on a planet you were not made to be able to survive on, your real planet a long-forsaken dream you will never experience for yourself, surrounded by nature that could kill you in an instant. Alone, never fitting anywhere, orphaned by human diseases: cancer and greed. Left to fend for yourself when you were just ten, learning to navigate a life that only seemed to want to clobber you to the ground whenever you thought you finally could stand up again.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel, not anymore. You wanted to fight for something, for the chance at life, or at retribution, or at love. You were dying and Neteyam killed whatever hope remained in you. They all did. Norm, Max, Jake, Neytiri, Lo’ak, Kiri, Spider, all accomplices, all aware, all willing to lie to your face for weeks with no remorse. You thought you were good at spotting liars, now you just knew how little you knew about everything.

The pain in your soul mirrored the one in your body, as you felt the morphine wearing off and your human body struggling to keep the mind steady for the link. You had to bear it, because this pain was more manageable than the one you knew waited for you in your human form, when you would be alone in a dark room with only your nightmares to keep you company.

With a sigh and a peer up at the sky, you hoped whatever comes after death was better than the hell you’ve lived in the majority of this life.

Neteyam waited the whole night in your tent, waited for you to come back, becoming increasingly worried as the hours passed and you didn’t show. He wanted to go and look for you, but knew that as soon as you got on your ikran, the chances of finding you were thin. He would go to the lab as soon as dawn broke, but for now, he was praying that you would just burst through the tent opening so he can talk you down.

He fucked up, badly. He cringed at the thought of how much he seemed to not be able to get anything right when it comes to you. Everything he did or didn’t do ended up hurting you more, the only thing he didn’t want, the only thing in the world he continuously tried to avoid.

He was consoled by the fact that he would have a lifetime to make it up to you. He will not give up trying, no matter how long, no matter how hard, he was determined to win you back and keep you, forever.

As you made it back to your human body in the early hours of the morning, you regretted waiting so long, as your body was in indescribable agony, the likes with which you didn’t know was possible for the human body to ever experience. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, you were sweating bullets and every bone and muscle in your body throbbed with enough intensity to make it almost impossible for you to get up from the pod. Everyone must be asleep at this hour, you thought. You had to make it to your bed, you had to get at least a couple of hours of rest if you were going to live to see another day. As if you were taking the Iknimaya again, you made your way form the lab to the medical ward and injected another dose of the morphine in your system. There was no going back now, you were too far down the rabbit hole to stop and why put yourself through more unnecessary pain when this will all be over in a few days anyway?

You crashed in your room for a few hours and quickly made your way back to the pod before anyone else was there to talk to. You started the linkpod by yourself and got in without hesitation.

Waking up in your Avatar body was a strange experience, as you were still in the Hallelujah mountains where you fell asleep last night. Neyn did not leave you, you noted, and she was peacefully resting next to you, cooing softly in her sleep.

“Hey, beautiful girl. Time to go back. It would be useful if you knew the way.” you pet her gently, trying not to disturb her. She woke up and pushed her snoot in your chest, and you felt it swell for this animal that you had an unbreakable bond with; you were grateful you had done the Iknimaya and at least gained a life companion from that horrible day.

As suspected, Neyn knew where to take you, and in about an hour you made it back to the village. You dreaded it, dreaded the inevitable interaction, but you knew you had to go back at some point and inform them of your whereabouts.

It was still early, so the village wasn’t quite bustling with energy yet. You quietly made it back to your tent, which you found empty. You grabbed your bow and arrows, knife and gun and a couple extra magazines. You didn’t know if you were going to be back. As you were making your way out, your head bumped into a large, muscular chest.

Fuck.

“Where the hell were you all night, kid? None of us slept a wink last night worrying.”

“Out.”

“What the hell do you mean out? Out where? You leave without telling, you don’t come back the whole night, do you have a fucking death wish?”

You laughed at the irony of his words. He caught your arm as you were walking away and pulled you back forcefully so you can face him.

“You are not going anywhere.”

“Let go.” Jake raised a brow at your words. He was not used to being spoken this way, you realise.

“How long?”

His grasp on you loosened, and his gaze softened when you peered up at him through eyelashes to which tears clung.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Kid…”

“How fucking long, Jake?”

He let go of your arm at your curse, which had never been directed at him before.

“Watch your tone, kid.”

“You made me feel like shit for learning to shoot guns without you. It made you feel bad, right? Knowing I purposefully left you out of something you could have been useful at, something we could have bonded over? I hurt you, by pushing you and Neytiri away for so many years, and I am sorry for that, but you have never, in your life, tried to understand me. So you gave me shit about something you didn’t understand, and I hurt so much inside at the thought of all I gave away by my reluctance to trust, to love, to let people in. So I changed. I let you in. I was here, everyday, acting like a perfect little daughter for you, the daughter I knew you wanted. Strong, capable, skilled. I let Neytiri in. I started calling her mum in my dreams, and although the guilt for my own mother gnawed at my insides silently, I was also relived, to finally have a family again, or for the first time.

You made me love you and break down these carefully constructed walls so you can be comfortable and sleep well at night for not breaking your promise my mum, and then you fucking stabbed me in the back.

I trusted you, Jake. You fucking lied to my face for months. Every time I asked where Neteyam was at dinners and you told me he was practicing, every day you plotted to get me out of the village as early morning as humanly possible and get me back after everyone else was fast asleep, I knew it in my heart you were lying, but you were all so good at it, I thought I was going crazy. But no, it was all a carefully planned ruse to not find out you made me come here and be part of the people just to watch the man I love belong to someone else without even a chance to decide for myself how to feel about it.”

The fight brought out the rest of the Sully family out of their tent, and they were all watching you now, concern and sadness displayed across their beautiful faces.

“You all lied to me. Looked me in the fucking eyes and lied to me, every day, multiple times a day. You were supposed to be my family.

The humans are coming. I will be here. I will stand and fight, you know I will. I will be your little soldier, and be who you made me into.

But I want to make this perfectly clear. As far as I am concerned, you and I, we are done. I am done.” You looked at every Sully one last time, and left.

You were no longer delightfully numb, but burning with anger and earth-shattering sorrow as you stalked away from the village, leaving everything behind. Your eyes were blurry with endless tears, mourning this life and this family that you managed to gain and lose within the span of a few weeks, reeling from the wounds within your heart that never had a chance to mend before being opened again, over and over. You didn’t want to go back to the lab, knowing Neteyam was most likely looking for you there. You couldn’t go to the clearing for the same reason. You had no home anymore, no place in this world, once again. You could only think of one place to go, one place where no one would ever look for you.

Your knees were shaking furiously as you walked, and you were scared of another flashback that you would have to ride out by yourself, but it never came. You just walked, crying and panting from all the pain the last 24 hours brought, and eventually you made it to a place you never thought you would ever see again. The clearing looked peaceful, with rays of light penetrating through tree branches, creating Mandalas on the ground that you found yourself tracing with your eyes.

In the corner, lay a decrepit exo suit, and you made your way to it, settling on the ground next to it. You knew now this exo suit belonged to your dad, and you removed some vines that grew on top of his name, Gideon Barlowe. A beautiful name, you thought, and your mind wandered to the past, a past way before you were even born, and wondered what your grandparents did back on Earth. Did they encourage their son to leave his own planet in pursuit of planetary colonisation, monetary gain and murderous acts? Did they know? Did he know? Was he like that his whole life, or did he start off fighting the good fight, and was corrupted by the jagged and monstrous lifestyle? You wondered if this was what he has always dreamt of doing, or he had secret dreams of being a painter, or a gardener. Did he play guitar, too? You snored sometimes, did you get that from him? You had so many questions for this man you shared half your DNA with, but have never met. For the man that died on a planet far away from home, alone, with no one to mourn him.

Was that going to be you? Would Neteyam remember you in 20 years, when he would tell stories about his childhood to his kids, when he remembered the good old times? Would you get a Na’vi send off? Or were you going to be buried somewhere in the forest, for someone to stumble upon in a distant future you would no longer be a part of?

Sobbing uncontrollably, you heard yourself speak in between wails. “Why am I here? Great Mother, please tell me there is more to this life, there is more to life than this, because I cannot do this anymore. I am so tired. I have tried to keep going my whole life, even when I wanted nothing more than to cease to exist, blissfully collapse in an ether where I didn’t have to feel anything anymore. I kept going because I wanted to make my mum proud, I wanted to honour the body and life she has given me. I am trying so hard, but I am really fucking tired.”

A little past eclipse, you arrived at the lab, and used the keycard you remembered to bring with you. You hoped Neteyam would be gone by now, in case he was trying to find you here. You made your way through the hub and into your bedroom, which looked tiny in your Avatar body. You realise how uncomfortable it must have been for him to be here so often, then cursed your brain for making you think about such things. Your Avatar body needed a bed, so you walked slowly to where the other Avatar bodies usually were laid to rest for the night. There should be an empty space where your mum or Grace used to sleep. It didn’t take long for you to wake up back in the linkpod, as with most nights recently, you were barely able to maintain the neurolink by the time evening came.

Max was waiting for you. “Neteyam came by. He’s been looking for you, said you left the village yesterday and didn’t come back. He was worried sick.”

You didn’t answer him, as you slowly got out of the pod and tried to steady your feet on the ground, harder than it seemed when the entire room was spinning around you.

“What happened?”

“The mate you all hid from me for weeks came announcing herself in my tent as we were just about to kiss.”

“Any other questions?”

You didn’t wait for a response before you made your way out of the room, stalking towards the medical ward.

As you retired to your room for the night, you noted the morphine was not working as well as used to anymore. You sat on the bed, looking at the arm that was getting blue at the amount of needle holes it had, and you knew then you didn’t have much time left. Maybe a couple of days. A couple more days of this. And then it would finally be over. You gave it a fair shot, this life thing. You couldn’t say you felt particularly sad at the thought of it ending. You pressed play on your vintage record player and let yourself sleep.

“Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me?

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you, til my dying day”

You spent the next 2 days in a haze, drugged out of your mind, waking up before eclipse and leaving to your dad’s grave and sleeping in the woods until the night, barely able to make it on your own two feet. Even in your human body, Neyn recognised you, and stood by you, which gave you some peace of mind. You made sure to bring her fruits from the lab, and she cooed warmly as she settled next to you.

When you made your way back that night, Norm was waiting.

“Where the hell have you been? Everyone’s been looking for you for 3 fucking days.”

You removed your oxygen mask and made your way to the room, where he followed you. You were in so much pain you couldn’t see straight.

“I am talking to you!” he took you by your arm and spun you around. The motion made you instantly sick, and you struggled to keep down the fruits you shared with your ikran.

“Let go of me, Norm.” you had no strength in your body anymore, so it took you awhile to shake him off.

“You look like shit. What did you do?”

You managed to make it to the bathroom, where you shut the door behind you and got in the shower. Fortunately, for you or him, you couldn’t tell, Norm was gone when you came out.

The next morning, you woke up desperately searching for pain relief and didn’t know if you were going to be able to make it to the ward before your knees would collapse on themselves. You were shaking and dizzy, out of your mind with agony and walking to the bathroom felt like the most intensive workout you have ever done. You peered up at yourself in the mirror and were scared at the eyes watching you, rabid and wild, like an injured animal waiting to lash out. It was too much for you to bear, and before you could even think or rationalise, you felt your fingers curl into a fist and make contact with the cold glass of the mirror, shattering in dozens of pieces, and it made you weirdly happy to have a visual representation of how your soul felt. The instant pain of the all the wounds the smash caused also gave you a weird sense of euphoria, and you realised it was taking away from the pain in the rest of the body, which was only able to focus on one agonising sensation at a time. This felt like a kiss by comparison, and you knew then you could go on a little longer, you could continue with the rest of the day.

Norm came bursting through the door at the loud crash.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

You came out of your bathroom, blood dripping all over the floor as you made your way to the bed, sitting down on it.

“Leave, Norm.”

“What?”

“Leave.”

“What the hell has gotten into you recently. you are rude and brash, and you hurt people’s feelings with no remorse. This isn’t you.”

“What the hell do you know about me, Norm?” you say, laughing bitterly.

“Ace, stop.”

“You don’t know anything, Norm.” you kept going, the fury and hurt getting the best of you, once again, your need to destroy everything in your path as a way to cope with your own heartbreak winning by a landslide.     

“Did you know I have needed pills to sleep and to live a normal day-to-day life since I was 13? I have been slowly depleting our sleeping pill and benzodiazepines inventory and replacing it with multivitamin pills I found in one of the drawers. I mean thank God none of you suffer from anxiety or panic disorder or need help sleeping cause I would have been busted so long ago.”

You laughed mockingly at his shocked face, jaw so close the floor now you could trip on it on your way out.

“Did you know I am about a week and a half away from dying after I accidentally smashed a vial of infected blood and got it in my mouth?”

You stand corrected, you think now his jaw was close enough to the floor to trip on it.

“Did you know I have upgraded from a pill addiction to a full blown opioid addiction in order to not collapse on the floor in excruciating pain because of the way this virus is eating at my insides? Yeah, yeah, that’s right. We’re almost out of a whole vial of morphine after I injected it in my veins every day for a while now.”

He had no words. “That’s about right.”

“I do know one thing you do know, though. You know that Neteyam had his mate announcement ceremony that day I took off. You were there to see the two love birds announce their love and pledge their commitment to each other the one day I was not there. And that’s why you were acting shifty. You know about that. And somehow you forgot to tell me, every day, for weeks. How does that work out, Norm, hmm?”

“I felt so bad for snapping at you a couple of days ago. I felt like a horrible fucking person for hurting your feelings. I should have been watching my back, instead.”

You got up from your bed and started walking towards the door.

“If I were you I would not linger in a room with poisoned blood dripping on the floor for too long.”

You found some paper towels at the side of your bed and wrapped them around your bleeding, pained hand, and with that, you left.

After you upped the morphine you usually took, you went to the lab and prepped a hood for some more experiments. Work was a good way to get your mind off things, to mindlessly do something that had a purpose other than driving you to the brink of insanity.

You heard a loud banging noise coming from the entrance, and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who it was. You heard Norm open the door.

“Is she here?”

“Yeah, but Neteyam, I think you should go. She’s not in a good place, and I really don’t think doing this will end well for either of you.”

“I don’t care, I have to talk to her, I have been looking for her for 3 fucking days.”

You heard the door to the lab slide open and hissed at the man you knew would be trying to come in, realising hissing in a human body doesn’t have nearly the same effect.

“Get the fuck out, Neteyam. This is a sterile room.”

“I don’t fucking care about the room, Atan. Where the fuck have you been? Please come out so we can talk.”

You threw your head back and laughed, really laughed.

“You really are delusional if you think there is any way in heaven and hell I would want to hear anything you have got to say. The time for talking was a couple months ago, Neteyam. The time for talking was the first day I got my Avatar body, where in addendum to telling me you own my ass now, you could have also sprinkled in the fact your are now mated with someone else.”

“I am not mated with anyone, for fuck’s sake. Just come out so we can talk, please. I will explain everything, please!”

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, for the first time since that day. He looked exhausted, anguished. Deep purple bags under his eyes, that were burning red where the whites should be. He has been crying. Good, you thought. He looked panicked and miserable and desperate for you to give him the time of day, for you to allow him to explain the unexplainable.

You sighed and your heart constricted in pain. Neteyam will not be happy until there was nothing left of you, until he took everything from you. At the same time, you were curious, morbidly curious as to what has actually happened, what led to this moment. You knew he loved you. You knew that much, but it didn’t seem to matter in this moment, as he broke your heart for what felt like the thousandth time in your short life.

“Go to the clearing, I’ll come when I’m ready.”

You half considered just leaving him there to wait, abandoning him just he did to you. You finished splitting your cells and treating them, and in about an hour, you went into the linkpod and took your Avatar for a walk in the woods. You reached the clearing shortly, as it was close enough that even child you could do it without getting too far away from the building.

You saw him standing there, his back turned to you and his legs submerged in the river that was rushing violently downstream. It was a cold day, and rain was trickling down your body like shivers from a kiss. There was tension in the air, and you knew a storm was coming. You could practically feel the charge in the atmosphere, and were expecting thunder to start any minute now, ready to mirror the agony in your soul.

“I’m here.”

He didn’t speak for a while. Just stood looking at the river, deep in thought.

“So many of our moments throughout the years happened here. Remember when I taught you to swim in the river? Now, in retrospective, that was a bad idea since the water kept taking you away, to the point I had to wait at the end so I could catch you in my arms, like you were a baby.”

You winced at the memory.  You thought you could do this. You felt numb in that lab, numb on the way here, but as soon as your eyes focused on him, tears starting pooling in your eyes and pain overtook your body, that you tried to counteract by wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. He’s caused you so much hurt, so much grief in the years he’s known you. But he was also at the forefront of most of your happiest memories. You could fill endless manuscripts with the beauty of his love, that shone so brightly over you your whole life. He was the light in all the darkness and you honestly didn’t think you would have survived this journey without him.

That is why this hurt so much, why your body was convulsing on itself in insurmountable grief. And also why you owed him this much. Owed him this conversation, and the right to explain his point of view, that you were still unfamiliar with.

“I remember. I remember even at the time, thinking this was a good metaphor for our relationship. Life kept sweeping me off my feet, but you were always there to catch me, before it could take me away. I had so much faith in you back then, you were a fact of life, like the eclipse. You were the one person in this world I thought would never hurt me.”

“Fuck, Y/N, all I did before I left is hurt you.”

“What are you talking about?” You were confused at the turn this conversation took. What did he mean? You couldn’t recall a single time Neteyam hurt you before you left. Sure, you would fight and bicker sometimes, but it was a normal part of any relationship, you thought. And he always made it up to you, would always come to the lab and sit with you with flowers he collected or trinkets he found in the woods, always holding you and kissing your forehead to make sure you were over it before he had to leave. Fighting with him was ironically one of your favourite things, because you knew the aftermath was the closest you ever felt to being in heaven.

“I almost fucking killed you. Or have you forgotten? Have you forgotten how I manipulated you into getting on top of an ikran when you were just a 13 year old human and almost watched you die? Have you forgotten I took you to the woods and raced you to your dad’s remains? I was a walking magnet for disasters in your life and I was tired, so fucking tired of watching your life fall apart all around me. I had to watch you learn to walk again, limp because of my actions, for years. I had to pull you out of flashbacks and nightmares you developed because of ME. You were always fine in the woods with Lo’ak or Kiri, but everything bad that has happened to you happened around me.”

He was crying, panting and angry, at himself or you or the universe, you couldn’t tell.

“I thought that if I left, you would be ok. I just wanted to protect you. My whole life, all I have wanted was for you to be ok. But it seems no matter what I do, I keep fucking up.”

You had no words to speak as you lay there, listening to him letting you in to a secret you have spent so many months agonising over. The reason for his departure haunted you for a year and a half, even when you refused to think about him, about it, it was there, constantly emerging from the depths of your subconsciousness, taunting you in your dreams. Why? Why? Why?

Because he wanted to protect you?

You didn’t have time to process all of this new information, before he continued.

“The night you found your dad, I was shaken to my core, in a way I have never truly been before. I was so heartbroken, for you and for myself, for knowing this will haunt you for the rest of your life. I went home and mother found me, and told me that maybe I can’t help you in the way I’ve always wanted. That maybe it’s better for you that I remove myself for a while and leave you room to breathe and heal. So I did. It took me a long time to get the strength to do it. Every time I thought today is the day, I would see you and you would smile at me, and we would sit on your bed and you would read to me or play me songs or just be there, just you and me, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You were everything to me, my light in all the darkness.

A year later, you sang me the song and you were smiling at me singing it, and I knew you were confessing feelings we have both felt for years and couldn’t say out loud. And I knew that if I stayed, whatever we had would escalate past the point of no return. If I stayed, that would be it. And that’s when I decided. I thought I was doing us both a favour. I knew it would hurt you, just as much as it hurt me, but I thought the pain would subside in time.”

You were crying now, you realised, tears falling silently and effortlessly down your face, with no intention to ever stop, instantly washed away by the pouring rain. There were no sounds, no sobs or wails, or panted breaths, just the sounds of rain and hopeless, soft cries and muffled sniffles, for the man in front of you, for all that you have lost, for the past you shared and the future that you would never have.

He got up from where he stood and turned around to face you. He walked towards you until he was so close to you could feel his breath on your face. His stare made goosebumps appear on your entire body, so earnest and desperate, so full of intensity for the words he was trying to convey to you.

“It didn’t.” He said, at the same time you thought the same words in your mind.

“A few years ago, mother and father told me I would one day have to find a mate. They knew and I knew it was expected of me, but I always put it off, so they eventually dropped it. I learnt later they both knew about us, so they didn’t push me into anything until they felt I was ready. A few months after they realised I decided to leave, they started bringing it up again. I didn’t want to hear it, but they said it was time, as I had refused for years longer than what was acceptable in the clan. I met with so many girls, all from good families, all healers in training, all wrong. Beautiful girls, smart girls, skilled healers and singers, and it was like looking at the grey walls of your lab. I felt nothing, I felt sick just thinking about it, like just the thought would be betraying the memory of our bond. Eventually, I told them they can decide. Grandma can decide whatever she thinks is best, and, as Tsahik, I would listen to her voice and wisdom, and do my duty to the clan. She chose Tiongli. I knew her growing up, and we were friendly, so I tried to make an effort. I would go to her tent, and she would show me her training sometimes, I would let her heal my wounds and imagined it was your hands touching me instead. I visited her family and paid my respects, and had dinner with them whenever they invited me. I hoped in time, I could learn to care for her, to lessen the distaste in my mouth whenever my family or the clan talked about the future, about the ceremony, about the life I was supposed to lead that I hated even the thought of.

And then, one day, my dad sent me to get Lo’ak from the lab. I was so scared of knowing I would have to see you again. It had been so long, and so many feelings gnawed at me on the walk there, terror and anxiety, guilt and longing. But then I saw you, and there was only one feeling: love. Like no time had passed at all. I knew then I was going to love you for the rest of my life, and that will never change. That was my fact of life, my eclipse.”

He slowly took your face in his hands, and his thumb was caressing your cheek trying to wipe the tears and raindrops that were falling mercilessly. You saw his face slowly getting closer to yours, and you knew you should pull away, you should remove yourself from his grasp before the kiss was going to remove the last ounce of happiness from you. You knew what you had to do, knew that no matter what information or answers or justifications he would give you today, they wouldn’t matter. You should pull away, because there is no future, no hope. But you couldn’t. You didn’t know what waited for you in the afterlife, but if there was any chance you would have your memories, you wanted this kiss to haunt you forever, to remind you of the life you left behind.

His lips touched yours so gently, it felt like a whisper. Like a hug, tender and warm, it was so different than your first kiss. Tears were still running down your face as your lips moved, entangled with his and begging for more. Your hands went to his chest, to his neck, to his back, just touching him, trying to memorise his body, this feeling. You wanted so much more, you wanted to be his, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him to own you, like he did your heart, which has been his your entire life and will still be his after your death.

You were a mess of wet tangled limbs and panted breaths by the end, and eventually, he broke the kiss to look at you through teary eyes.

“I love you, I will always love you. I am so sorry.”

“I love you, too.”

“But this doesn’t change anything, Neteyam.”

“Thank you, for finally telling me why you left. For giving me some closure for something that has plagued me for so long, it became a constant part of my nightmares. Thank you for having my best interest at heart; it couldn’t have been easy to leave, if you didn’t want to, it took a strong heart to do something that hurt you for what you thought was the lesser evil. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“You left me. You broke me. And you never gave me a chance to make my own decisions. To figure out for myself what was the path forward. I have NEVER blamed you for my misfortunes. The ikran ride is still a beautiful memory to me. You made it a beautiful memory. If it weren’t for your quick thinking, we probably would have both died at the hands of Toruk. You saved my life, Neteyam. You carried me home and stayed with me while I was having surgery, you stayed with me after, while I recovered. You pulled me out of the worst panic attack I have ever had when I found my dad, and you rode out so many of my flashbacks, I have lost count. You weren’t the cause or the common denominator of these events, I was. I am the one plagued by misfortune and hurt and death. Not you. And if you tell me you had to leave to save your own peace of mind, I would respect that. I don’t know anyone in this world who can take this, take me and all the shit that follows me everywhere I go. I don’t blame you.

But if you tell me that you did this for me, that I can’t accept. I didn’t ask for any of this. You gave me no choice, and no say in this relationship, in our shared life. You just left. I deserved better than that. And I deserved better than to find out about a mate after months of lies and manipulation and deceit. I don’t care. I don’t care if you are going to say that you didn’t want it, or you were going to undo it, or that you’ve always loved me and never her. I don’t care. You lied to me, you manipulated me. You accused me of fucking your brother as you were promised to another woman that you hid from me for months. I do blame you for that, and I will never be able to forgive you.”

“Please, Atan…I will tell her no. I will tell her -.” he was sobbing now, his hands still on your face, pleading.

“No.” you slowly took his hands in yours and removed them from your face.

“I think you should do it, Neteyam. She is a good girl, she will make a good Tsahik, and a good mate. Your mother was right, there is no future here - there never was. I love you, so much. But I think you have broken my heart one too many times. I am done.”

You turned your back and walked away from him and the life that was lost - forever.

You were completely soaked when you arrived in the lab, and you went straight to the Avatar laying room and cried. Cried until it felt like no more tears could possibly come out of you. You cried yourself to sleep and then cried in the pod, on the way to your bedroom, and in bed until your human body eventually collapsed from exhaustion. You cried in your dreams, in which Neteyam was kissing you and touching you, doing all the things you were silently begging him to in your mind just a few hours ago.

Eventually, nightfall came, and you had to get up to do the rest of your experiments and top up your analgesic. Ironically enough, you were making real progress on your work. You found a combination therapy that was showing incredible potential in slowing the virus down. It wasn’t enough to stop and eradicate it, but it was enough to give people more time and hopefully give the scientists more time to find a cure. It wouldn’t help you, but maybe you could still help others.

At some paint through the night, as you were making up some reagents, Norm bursts through the door holding a bunch of equipment and some pills, you realise. He puts them down on the bench behind you and speaks.

“Right, stop whatever you are doing, right now.”

“I am in the middle of something.”

“I don’t fucking care. Stop, now.”

You were taken aback at his words and attitude. Norm never got mad, or lost his composure. He was so most well balanced person you knew.

You put the pipette gun down and turned around to face him.

“I still need to adjust the pH on this.”

He ignored you while he prepared the myriad of little gadgets he brought with him. He motioned for you to take off your lab coat, and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, but did as you were told regardless. You were too tired to argue anymore.

He raised the sleeves of your top until they couldn’t go any further up your arm and put a blood pressure monitor on you. You felt tension as its sleeve tightened around you painfully, but eventually it gave out with a puff, and you heard beeping as the machine finished its reading. You looked to your right where the monitor lay, and saw red lights flashing, letting Norm know your blood pressure and pulse were dangerously low. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, but he held his composure, removing the gadget from around your arm and putting it away. He then read your oxygen levels, which you saw were constantly dabbling between 89 and 90%. Not good, you thought. No wonder you could barely breathe anymore. Norm cursed silently under his breath, trying to not let you see him, but if there was one thing you were good at, it’s reading people. Well, you thought you were, at least.

“Did you do any tests on your blood? How is your complete blood count looking?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Why the fuck not, Ace? It’s not like you don’t know how to do it.”

He was angry, really angry. You’ve never seen Norm this angry, you’ve never seen Norm acting this way towards you.

You just shrugged. With a huff of annoyance, he took your arm and prepared a needle and syringe to collect some blood. He gulped and you could see tears forming in his eyes when he looked at the violet bruises and needle holes that were plastered along the length of your brachial vein.

“Just didn’t get around to it.”

“You didn’t - Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“What medicine have you been taking? Did you take the Relenta, or the combination therapy we have been working on?”

“Neither.”

You swear you saw Norm’s entire body enter a catatonic state and he turned so red you were worried he was going to release steam out of his ears.

“You have been sick for a month and did not take anything, none of the treatments we have been working on?”

You couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, finding comfort in the pattern of the tiles on the floor.

“I can’t believe you. I didn’t peg you for someone who would just throw their life away meaninglessly. Your mum had to die because we didn’t have a way to treat her illness, and here we are, with a solution that YOU came up with for your own illness, and you will just not even try?”

You were quiet, not really having a way to rebut his questions.

“Fine. We will start you on the combination treatment tonight and take it from there. There’s other things we haven’t tried yet and I’m sure -“

“NO.”

“I’m not asking you. I’m not letting you fucking die.”

“Why must you always fucking try to fix everything, Norm? Some things can’t be fixed. I don’t want the fucking pills. I am done. I want this to be done.”

“So you’ll just die? Is that what you’re saying? You want to die, and not even fucking TRY to see if there is more to this life. Goddamn it, Y/N. I thought having the Avatar would help you realise life is worth living, there’s beauty in this world beyond the walls of this lab. You got your first kill, you did the Iknimaya, you’re going to become one of the people. Don’t you want to see what your future holds? Don’t you want to live to see yourself grow up? Fall in love, start a family. There are more guys in this world than just Neteyam.”

You gave Norm a dirty look and got out of the lab.

Neteyam felt his whole body reel after your conversation. It didn’t change anything, he thought bitterly. He thought explaining it to you, allowing to see that he had good reasons for his actions would allow you to forgive him, to at least allow him the opportunity to make it up to you through time. You left, just like he had so long ago, but there was a finality to you that he didn’t feel then. Back then, he always had hope that a miracle would still be possible, one in which you got an Avatar, healed and loved him, forever. He wanted to love you forever, but his apology and explanations were not enough.

He lost you, again.

He spent the night flying on his Ikran, just flying and letting the rain soak his thoughts and hurt away. He just wanted to disappear. He wanted the rain to melt his bones until there was nothing left of him but the memory of happier times.

In the early hours of the morning, he made it back to the village, trying to hide his cried out eyes and calamitous grief. He was dreading having to talk to his parents, to explain to them what happened, to have to go through with Tiongli and this future he didn’t want and will have to suffer through for the rest of his life. He didn’t have time to worry about it too much though, because, as he managed to get to the tent’s entrance, he heard Norm’s voice and his dad’s, intertwined with his grandma’s voice rising above them.

“It won’t work. Eywa will not allow her to come back.”

“Why not? She has taken her Iknimaya, she has completed her kills, she has spent her entire life in the village’s service, trying to help the best way she knew how. If she doesn’t deserve this, who does?”

“It’s not that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s that she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want this, Norm. The Great Mother will not transfer the conscience of someone with no future.”

“But maybe if this happened, she will realise that she wants to live. Once she’s rid herself of her weak body, of this disease, maybe she will -“

“The Great Mother’s word is final. She will die, because she wants to die.”

Mo’at’s voice rang in his ears so hard he thought his eardrums would pop.

She doesn’t want it.

She will die.

What were they talking about? Who would die?

No… it couldn’t be. No, the Great Mother wouldn’t be so cruel.

He didn’t wait to hear the rest of the conversation, running as fast as his feet could carry him back to the lab. He reached soon enough, he was faster than most other people in the village, and started knocking on the door of the lab with all his might.

“Y/N, OPEN UP, I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE!”

Eventually, Max came to the door, through which Neteyam burst without consideration for the tiny human next to him.

“She’s not in, Neteyam. She left before any of us had a chance to say anything.”

“Was she in her Avatar body?”

“No, the body is in the den where they sleep.”

He didn’t bother thanking the man, as he turned on his heel and started running again. She was there, had to be.

It was still raining, the clouds relentless as they released drops that poured gently down his face and body, and Neteyam thought the Great mother was crying, mourning the love being washed away like a pebble in the river of the clearing, just like he was.

You were there, of course you were. A current shocked Neteyam at the sight of you. This was the first time he has seen your human body in months, and he found it hard to reconcile the image of you he has known all his life with this current one. You were incredibly thin, so thin, whereas a few months ago he could trace your muscles, he could now trace your bones. You were pale, almost ashen, and the hair that he once spent so long admiring was now brittle and dull, obvious even as it was, wet and clinging to your back. You looked lifeless. He felt a lump form in his throat and tears pool in his eyes that were still not dry from all the pain this day has brought.

You didn’t notice him yet, your human ears much less sensitive than your Avatar, so you were just sitting on the riverbank with your chin resting on your knees, which were brought to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. You were looking at the water, and it was like you weren’t actually there. You were in your own world, far from here, from this hurt.

“I was going to ask if it was true, what I heard Norm talk about in the tent today, but I think you’ve answered my question.”

Neteyam saw you flinch, and it felt like even that brought your weak frame pain. You were trembling when you looked at him, and your face made his own drop in shock. Your beautiful features, the blush in your cheeks, the glimmer in your eye, the pink of your lips, your animated expressions or raised eyebrows, were all gone. Your eyes looked glossed over and numb, your face looked ghostly and sunken, and Neteyam swore he could trace every blood vessel on your forehead and neck. The sight of you made whatever happiness or hope he had left dissolve and trickle down his bones, until it reached the ground where it was eventually buried, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think I could make myself any clearer, Neteyam.”

“tell me it isn’t true. Tell me he’s lying; he’s making it up.”

“What part?”

“All of it.” Neteyam was angry now, trying to contain the temper rising in his chest.

“Tell me you’re not dying.”

“Norm has a big fucking mouth.”

“Can you for once in your fucking life just answer a question? This is fucking serious!”

You winced at his words, then struggled to get up, but did eventually and fully face him. The state of you hit him like bullets, piercing and scraping at his every organ, leaving bleeding wounds behind.

“It’s true”.

Crack, crack, crack. 

“When?”

“The night you gave me the guitar. I was so busy being in love with you I forgot to put the proper protection on, and I smashed a bottle of infected blood. It got in my mouth, in my nose.”

“I thought you were working on a cure.”

“Haven’t found it yet.”

“But you said you have something that kind of works, something to give people more time.”

“I’m human, it doesn’t work that way for us.”

“So, you’ve tried.”

You weren’t looking at him anymore, just staring at the ground in front of you, somewhere next to Neteyam’s feet.

“Tell me you have fucking tried.”

It thundered aggressively as Neteyam said that, and he saw you once again tremble at the loud sound. You have never been a jumpy person. You were the bravest person he knew. You were the strongest person he knew. It was unspeakable having to watch you now, sitting meekly in front of him, when just a few days ago you took the Iknimaya, taking the climb to the toughest tests known to the Omatikaya, doing it like it was nothing, just another day for you. To know that this is what was hiding underneath, this is what you hid from all of them, made him both impossibly miserable and strikingly enraged at the same time.

“TELL ME YOU HAVE TRIED.”

“NO, OKAY?? NO, I HAVEN’T FUCKING TRIED.” You were sobbing now, your tears washed away by the rain and wind as soon as they fell down your cheeks.

“Why?”

“Because I am tired. I want this to end.”

“I thought you were happy. I thought you were better. You seemed better in the Avatar.”

“I was better… in the Avatar. Because that wasn’t my life. That was just a beautiful dream, while my life was the never-ending nightmare. It was easy to pretend in that body. It was easy to be the version of myself everybody wanted me to be. But I have to live with the real me every night. And I don’t want to do it anymore.” The more you cried, the more Neteyam’s blood boiled in his veins.

“That’s such fucking bullshit.”

“You know what I think?”

“I think dying is fucking easy. It’s your easy way out.”

You looked up at his much larger frame incredulously, and he saw how your mood was starting to mirror his own.

“What did you just say? You think this is fucking easy for me?”

“Yes, I think it is. I think all you’ve done since your mum has died is take the easy way out. Put everything and everyone in your little bottom desk drawer, keeping everyone at a distance. Do you know how much mother and father suffered every time you refused to come out, to come to the village? My mother cried herself to sleep at the thought of you alone in that lab, at the thought that you preferred that soulless, empty place to her, to us. Did you know that?

You have not once opened that drawer, not once dealt with anything. All you do is numb yourself down, pretend you are fine and the issues you have suffered through do not exist. Well guess fucking what, Atan? They exist. And until you deal with that pain and let it pass over you and through you, you will always take the easy way out.

You have made me feel like the worst person in the world, for leaving, for lying to you. But what the fuck have you done, huh? You lied to me about dying, for weeks! About dying! What, was I supposed to find you dead one day and that was it? That was what I deserved from you, after all the blood, sweat and tears I gave you? You said I took your choice away. You wouldn’t have even given me a choice to say goodbye to the love of my life before you fucking died!

I left you for a year because I wanted to protect you, you are leaving permanently because you refuse to fucking deal with the pain and hurt I know you feel deep down inside. You had a choice. You could have come to the many people who love you, love you unconditionally, and told us, and let us in, and let us help you. You could have gotten help, taken the pills, fight your damn hardest to make this work, to find a cure, for the life your mum gave you, the life she would have to watch you throw away. You have a choice now. To want to live, to want to fight through this and come out the other side a new, better person. To let me love you, let people love you. To do the consciousness transfer and be with me, and be happy, forever. And you’re choosing this.

You are a coward.”

Neteyam turned on his heel and walked away, before he got a chance to see you collapse on the ground, giving your last few breaths in the place he used to imagine both of your children laying in his arms peacefully while you sang them to sleep.

Tag list (I hope I didn't miss anyone, thank you so much for asking to be tagged <3): @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @inomoikawa @jackiehollanderr @jaysarchiv3 @meivap @dakotali @hlhl99 @eskamybeloved @erenjaegerwifee @winchestertitties

[readyforthegarden]

When the Nightingale Sings - Part Four

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

WC: 2877

Warnings: panic attacks, the cutting of clothes with a knife, talk of hunting

A/N: A big thank you to @earthlysorrows for beta-reading and editing and helping me along the way

Hours. You had been walking for hours, and your feet were screaming at you to stop. Yet you trudged on, following Danny’s large steps as best you could in the serpentine pattern he forged. The air was crisp, the cold pricking your cheeks while the sun shone down on you. Your body couldn’t tell if you were freezing or overheating, and for the millionth time, you debated untying the cloak Danny had loaned you and leaving it there on the forest floor. 

It was the second day of travel, and yesterday had been surprisingly easy. Danny had stopped for many breaks, letting you catch your breath and rest. But today was business, due to the feeling of “snow in the air”. 

“If we keep this pace, we’ll make it to town in less time!” Danny called over his shoulder. “We’ll have you to your prince before you can even curtsy.” 

“Great, that’s great.” you responded meekly. You couldn’t tell if it was your lack of excitement or the exertion that kept your voice from traveling too far. If he noticed, Danny didn’t say anything, he simply continued his path along the forest floor. “Is this a trail you take often? There are no markers.”

“Aye, there are markers.” Danny turned and smiled. “Only ones I would know.” he continued to walk a ways and then stopped, sniffing as he glanced up and down at a tree. You stopped by him and looked at the bark, seeing nothing.

“Danny, it’s a lovely tree…but what are we doing?” Danny grinned and reached up, pointing to a small carving just out of arm's length. 

“That’s a carving I put in years and years ago,” he responded. “Gets harder to find every year as the tree grows, but I made it so if anyone was trying to follow me to steal my pelts or my money, they can’t find me.” you nodded, understanding the zigzag path now. 

“That’s very clever,” you complimented, and Danny’s smile grew. “Do you go to Ashlight very often?”

“A few times a year, depends on how my hunts go and what I need to restock.” Danny looked back at you.  “Escorting fair maidens doesn’t happen very often.” a blush tinged your already pink cheeks, and you were grateful for the cover. 

“You don’t have many women running for their lives in the forest?” you bantered back, stepping over a large, fallen tree trunk. Your heel caught the rotted bark and you slipped, knowing within a few seconds your face would meet the soil of the forest floor. However, a firm hand grasped yours, holding you up. Danny was there, his wide gait undoubtedly the reason for his quick return to you. 

“Not that I can say. You would be the first.” Danny chuckled, helping you right yourself over the log. “How am I doing at saving the damsel in distress?”

“Your rescue attempts have all been successful, no complaints there.” you tried to hold back the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “However the noble steed I’ve heard so much about appears to still be missing.” Danny shook his head, his curls bouncing.

“I tried, I really tried.” Danny let go of your hand, and as he turned, you watched your arm stretch out, trying to stay in contact for as long as possible. The two of you continued on, small chatters here and there. Danny would only pause when there was a decent enough clearing, looking up at the gray clouds that passed over the sun. By the time you were sat by a small fire with the sun already set behind the trees, you were fighting to keep your eyes open enough to eat your supper.

“Nights in the forest used to scare me,” Danny murmured, catching your attention. His eyes were on the fire, crackling and snapping. “My father used to tell me about a monster who lived out here.”

“What did he say?” Danny’s eyes flicked up to yours, a small smirk on his face.

“He said that there was a beast, a wicked, ugly thing that skulked around in the trees, always in the corner of your eye but never quite there. It would come out at night looking for it’s meal, and if anyone was found still in the forest after dark, it would eat them, its fangs ripping them up and crushing their bones.”

“What a lovely bedtime story,” you mused with a sour face, chewing slowly on the dried pork you’d just taken a bite of. “Surely it was meant to keep a young boy from venturing into the woods at night and getting lost.” Danny shrugged.

“Aye, it’s likely just that.” he agreed, eyes cast down to the fire again. “But sometimes, when I’m out late hunting, I think of it. Think of how if the beast were to find me, there would be no one to miss me.” furrowing your brow, you shook your head.

“Now that is a fallacy.” you argued. “You told me you had friends who resided in Ashlight. They would miss you.” Danny smiled softly, and nodded. “And now you have me.” his eyes shot up to yours, quicker than anything you had seen before.

“Do I?” His voice was quiet, nearly blending in with the crackling fire. Something heavy laid over the small distance between you, making your stomach flutter.

“You do,” you murmured back, keeping your eyes locked with his. Your stomach and heart were now fluttering together, and you swallowed roughly. “I would miss you.” the two of you were still locked in a shared gaze, the heaviness draping all around you. 

Snap!

In an instant you were scrambling to your feet, scurrying around the fire and to Danny’s side, kicking up a trail of leaves behind you. 

“Just a story, princess.” Danny looked around the darkness, finding nothing to cause alarm. “Remember what I told you, I would never let anything happen to you on this journey.” you looked up at him from your place, clung to his arm. “I’ll fight the beast if there is one.” as you followed his gaze towards the wood, a silhouette appeared. Large, sleek, and you began to grip Danny’s arm tighter as it moved closer towards the fire. Eyes glinted gold in the light, two orbs that stared unblinkingly toward the two of you. More snapping of twigs had you trying to scoot back and tug Danny with you, as he gripped the hilt of a knife in his belt loop. 

He began to pull his arm through your hands, moving to a crouching position. He was ready to attack, the sound on the blade by his side sliding against the soft leather that sheathed it. With a few more cracking steps, the creature emerged from the shadows. 

“A doe,” Danny murmured breathlessly. “A brave one at that.” Danny slid his knife back into the sheath and made a noise, clicking his tongue before picking up a small rock and tossing it away from the meager campsite, causing the doe to startle and turn back and run into the darkness. 

“I’ve never seen a deer so close before,” you whispered, staring in awe at the spot where she had been. 

“She must’ve smelled our food, and came looking.” Danny grunted as he settled back down in his spot. “It can happen around this time of year, as they’re starting to fatten up for winter.”

“Would she have not been good to hunt?” you asked, adjusting in your new seat beside him. Danny tossed his head back and forth a bit in a so-so motion.

“She looked a bit plump, but she still had a ways to go yet,” he answered. “And I don’t hunt does. Not unless I’m desperate for food or hides. You need them to make the fawns in the spring for the next season.”

“I see.” you pulled your cloak around you tighter as a breeze blew through the campsite. “Well, I’ve certainly had enough excitement for one day. I’m going to turn in.” Danny watched you move towards your camp roll, unfurling the thick blankets and laying them out. Normally you would find it indecent to sleep so closely to a man, but you found yourself staying within reach of him, the sounds of the forest still making you jump. 

“I’ll keep watch for the forest beast a little longer,” Danny joked, biting down on the bread in his hand. “Who knows, maybe I’ll tame it and we can ride it to Ashlight.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your throat. “If you do tame it, I get give them a name.” 

“As you wish,” Danny bowed his head and you settled in, turning up the hood of your cloak to cover your eyes, embracing its warmth.

Danny’s forecast for snow hadn’t been incorrect. In fact, it had merely been delayed. Cool flakes landed in your hair and on your clothes, dampening them as they melted with the heat of exertion. Danny’s pace was slower today, keeping in step with you. 

“I’d wager we’re halfway to the village.” Danny mused. “We should be coming upon another one of my markers soon. You nodded quietly, trudging along and trying to recede as far as you could inside the cloak. “Have you given any thought to your letter?”

“Letter?” you asked, puzzled for a few moments. “Oh yes, the letter to the prince. I-I really haven’t…”

“I imagine he’ll send a whole court to fetch you.” Danny mused, squinting up at the sky. “He seems to like to waste kingdom funds like that.”

“I am sure he’ll send a few knights, perhaps a steward.” you replied, trying to ignore the twist in your stomach.

“And then you’ll be living high on the hog. You’ll never have to walk through a forest again, you’ll have someone to carry you. Carry you, dress you, bathe you, hell, someone will probably chew your food for you.”

“I don’t think-” you were cut off before you could say anything else, Danny focusing on his imagination rather than the cold. Your chest began to tighten, an ache like you couldn’t get enough air to your lungs residing there.

“He’ll have you burn those clothes, I’m sure of it. Those are not fit for royalty.” Danny snorted, waving his hand in the air. “No, he’s going to drape you in all of the gowns of silk, weigh down your little head with tiaras and jewels.” Danny continued on, talking about you as if you were a small child's doll, something to dress up and down and change. Something to force into a box when you were all used up.

You stopped, your ribs felt like they were tightening inwards, squeezing every ounce of air from your lungs. It was worse than any corset tightening you’d ever felt. A palm against a tree trunk, you heaved as much as you could, shaking. Dropping your pack from your shoulders, you clawed at the clasps of the cloak at your collarbone, suddenly too tight, your body too warm beneath it. As you whipped the heavy wool away, Danny noticed you were no longer walking, and turned as you bent over, silent sobs spilling from you as you tried to gather one good breath.

“What’s happening? Are you okay?” Danny rushed over, panicked. He crowded you, overwhelming you too fast and your free hand shot out, pushing him away. Danny was startled at your sudden strength.

“I can’t-” a wheeze cut your own voice off. “Breathe!” your hands moved to your corset, trying to pull it away from your body at the front, before frantically moving to the laces in the back. “I can’t breathe!” you sobbed, the tears spilling down your face. Your hands were swatted away from your back, and the sound of fabric ripping was loud in your ear. The corset fell from your waist, and your lungs could finally take in the air they were burning for. Turning, you looked to Danny, who stood there, still frazzled, his knife in one hand, the other up, waiting for the next thing you’d throw at him.

You were still gasping, sniffling and wiping tears from your cheeks as you put your back against the tree trunk. Danny was patient as you reclaimed oxygen to your lungs, flushed coloring evening back out. 

“Are you-”

“I am not a thing.” your voice was hard. “I am not something to talk about as if I’m not a living, breathing creature as you are.”

“I didn’t-”

“All of my life I have been told what to do and who I am.” you continued, a fiery look in your eyes. Danny couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or in general, but he took the heat just as well, lowering his hands slowly and sheathing the knife that freed you. “I will not let you speak of me like I am plaything. I will not be yours, nor the princes.” Something flickered in Danny’s eyes, his lips pressing together in a line.

“I am sorry,” your name left his lips instead of ’princess’. “I did not mean to cause this distress to you.” 

“It is over now.” you placed a hand over your chest, feeling your skin now cold. “We should get moving again, if we want to keep your schedule.”

“Your corset,” It was now that you noticed Danny keeping his eyes trained to your face, or the bark of the tree just above your head. 

“The laces are cut, there’s no reason.” Danny eyed your bag on the ground, and pulled out the hair ribbons you had packed. He made quick work of tying them together, and helped you re-lace the corset, albeit looser than it had been before. He picked up your cloak, fastening it back around your neck when you were ready and helped slip your pack onto your back again.

“Are you okay to continue? Do you need to eat?”

“I’m fine, Danny,” you reassured him. “Just…please can we not talk about the prince?” the same flash that was in his eyes before flickered again and he nodded. “At least not until the village.”

“I can agree to that.” Danny nodded. “We’ll continue slowly, I don’t want you to lose your breath again.”

“Thank you.” The two of you continued walking, mostly in silence now. Questions swirled around his mind, burning the tip of his tongue as he pressed it to the back of his teeth, reining them in. Your hysterics at the thought of your life with the prince, he didn’t think any other woman would have. There was something he wondered about, one question burning more harshly than the others. It wasn’t until you both were laying by the dwindling fire that night, neither able to fall asleep, that he let out a request.

“Tell me about your life,” Danny’s voice was soft, barely carried in the wind. You turned, facing him, and shrugged under your blankets. You both had chosen to sleep top of head to top of head, making it easy to gaze towards him.

“You’ve surmised most,” you sighed, picking at the edge of the blanket boredly.

“Tell me what I’ve left out.” he was eager to know more about you, and even further, what caused the scene earlier.

“I was born and lived in Indigwall all my life,” you started. “My mother and father had me by mistake…or at least that’s what the nursery maids whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear. They’d already secured an heir, and no one wanted our land or title, so why try for more?”

“You have a brother?” you nodded, feeling the slash his passing had left in your heart burn again. Your mind shifted to the sentiment you’d long had, that if he were still here, he would have been the one with an advantageous match, and you could have been free for just a little longer, hidden by his success in suiting.

“Had,” you answered Danny’s question softly. “He was taken by The Illness when it swept through our countryside.” Danny was quiet a few moments, before clearing his throat. 

“Aye, my own parents were taken by it as well,” the wound that had reopened in your heart split further, empathy for your friend pouring from it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, cupping his cheek. 

“I am sorry for your loss. Rest assured they would be proud of the man you have become.” Danny held back the tears in his eyes, though you caught your reflection in the glassiness that ensued. 

“And your brother would be proud of the young lady you are.” your eyes fell from Danny’s, a prayer echoing through your mind that his statement was true. “Do you ever wonder if they’re looking over us?”

“Sometimes, yes.” you nodded, eyes beginning to feel heavy. “Though certain circumstances have led me to believe otherwise.” Danny hummed, his voice seeming far off as your eyes closed fully.

“True, though they are not gods. Merely spirits keeping us in line.”

“Whatever my line ends up being,” you muttered, sleep pulling you deeper and deeper. “I’m glad to have met you.”

“Aye, me too.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @holdingup-fallingsky @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr

@musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat @lyndz2names @godly-sinsx @dannythedog @anthemheatwave @samomf @spark-my-nature @scorpiosunsammy @theindigostre4k @jjwasneverhere @couldbefalling @peaceloveunitygvf @wrldabomination @gretavfreaky @kakejiszkas @brujamagik @miradoralbumwhen

@mar-rein12 @laurynnnn125 @maddie-rae @eraofstardustchords @musicislove3389 @starsinmyeyes00

[bite-sized-writing]

How Do Authors Start Their Story?

You finally have your outline or plot ready. You want to begin writing your story but you have no idea how you want it to start.

That's my problem right now, so I put down a few examples of the beginning of books as inspiration!

─────────────────────

Finvarra's Circus by Monica Sanz

Leanna Weston looked down at the age worn ticket in her hands and abandoned all prior belief that there was nothing worse than a broken heart. Her heart, however, was not one ruined by the unrequited affections of a boy, nor failure to secure a husband. It, in fact, had little to do with love at all. No, Leanna learned long ago that no man would ever want the sister with a damaged heart, not when there were two other healthy, lively ones in the stable.

─────────────────────

Voice of The Blood by Jemiah Jefferson

All the best tales begin with rain. In reality, this is the end of the story I am about to relate to you, but I begin here, because I'm sitting waiting in the pitch-dark parlor of my old house, bare feet with their long nightmare toes peeking out from beneath an appropriately literary white eyelet nightgown. The rain is picking up outside from a sleepy waltz to a tarantella, and often when it rains like this, my lover John returns to me for the night. My lover—the unfortunately feral and tragically beautiful—may join me here, for he hates being out in the rain in the mulchy graveyards and unwholesome underpasses where he ordinarily stays.

─────────────────────

The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Real by Neta Jackson

The call of nature—Willie Wonka's, not mine—got me out of bed at the bleary hour of seven thirty, even though the New Year's Eve party upstairs had kept me awake till after three. Three a.m.! But Willie Wonka's bladder was on dog-time—old dog time at that—making sleeping in on holidays a moot point. Stuffing my feet into my scuffs and pulling Denny's big terry robe around me, I stumbled out of our bedroom mumbling thinly disguised threats at our chocolate Lab as he led me out the back door.

─────────────────────

Rosehead by Ksenia Anske

Lilith Bloom had a peculiar feeling that the rose garden wanted to eat her. She surveyed it through the open car window, unable to look away. The garden seemed to survey her back. It was enormous. Its red blanket surrounded a solitary mansion at the end of Rose Street, Rosenstrasse in German. No other houses stood in sight, only a distant forest. Apart from tires grating on the gravel, it was eerily quiet, too quiet for a hot summer afternoon.

─────────────────────

Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones

My grandfather used to tell me he was a werewolf. He’d rope my aunt Libby and uncle Darren in, try to get them to nod about him twenty years ago, halfway up a windmill, slashing at the rain with his claws. Him dropping down to all fours to race the train on the downhill out of Booneville, and beating it. Him running ahead of a countryside full of Arkansas villagers, a live chicken flapping between his jaws, his eyes wet with the thrill of it all. The moon was always full in his stories, and right behind him like a spotlight.

─────────────────────

Appointment In Jerusalem by Derek Prince

The last glow of the setting sun had faded from the sky behind me, leaving the streets of Jerusalem dark and empty. The silence was broken only by the scuff of my shoes against the stones. The damp, wintry air felt raw against my cheek. Instinctively, I clutched closer to me the bundle that I carried.

─────────────────────

Below by Laurel Hightower

It came out of nowhere.

Addy’s hands shook, the band of her grandmother’s wedding ring tapping an erratic rhythm on the edge of the chipped porcelain mug she held so tight. The coffee within had long gone cold, but she couldn’t make herself let go.

It came out of nowhere.

She clutched the cup harder, knuckles whitening as they had around her steering wheel when the dark blue van appeared in the middle of the road, facing the wrong direction. Her fingers were stiff: she’d had to pry them from the wheel once she’d pulled into the truck stop parking lot. Her heart raced, her breathing erratic, stopping every so often until her burning lungs reminded her that no, she hadn’t died, so she still needed air.

[xanaxspritz]

hi🥰🥰 i just saw your post about requests being open so here i am, brain filled with suguru worms🧎 i’ve been daydreaming sm about living a slow, romantic cottage-core life with this man. would you consider doing headcanons for that?🥹

an: wrote this in an aiport lol. set after suguru declares war on jujutsu high but doesn't die. escapes in exile with sorcerer!reader. this got a little dark sorry!

cw: a bit of tradwifery (sorry), possessiveness, vomiting, impregnation

you're still getting used to the country life. it's nice and tranquil. there's a few yuzu trees surrounding the cottage you and suguru inhabit and a strawberry field by the lake that's less than a mile away from the house. suguru moved you two to the japanese countryside after narrowly escaping death after the war against jujutsu high to lay low for a while, but his grip on you has only gotten stronger after leaving tokyo.

you made do with what you had. fleeing so quickly meant no time to pack. a part of you missed the temple, the people, the friends you made, and the huge master bedroom you and suguru shared (the cottage bedroom wasn't half the size). but suguru insisted that this tiny cottage would be the best chance from gojo or anyone from jujutsu high to find him, so here you were, bright and early fixing suguru breakfast.

"smells great darling," he says smiling as you pour the hot green tea into his teacup. "will you not have any yourself?"

"no, im not hungry," you shrug.

"hmm."

you sit in comfortable silence for a bit, looking out the window next to the table while he goes back to reading the paper. you knew you should feel lucky to be here, the village was so pretty and picturesque, and the villagers were so welcoming. you knew you should feel even luckier that surguru chose you, yes you, to run away with him. he fucks you harder now, rougher and more impulsively than the carefully calculated man that he was before. he cums inside you now, every single time as if he was trying to get you pregnant. maybe he's taking his frustrations out on you, or maybe he's just showing you how much he really loves you, and it would be a lie to say you didn't like it.

you feel his big hands rub your knee under the table, taking you out of your thoughts.

"you look like you're thinking about something," he raises an eyebrow.

"oh! it's nothing. just thinking about tokyo I guess," you say.

"I believe there's a festival in the village today. would my pretty girl like to get some sweets? we'll walk there together."

your ears perk up. "really?" you ask. maybe they'll have matcha dango you loved getting from the stand nearby the temple. maybe they'll even have candy apples. "I would love to go."

walking hand in hand, you stroll to the village center for the festival. suguru holds your hand tight, squeezing it, giving you a small, sweet, smile.

"I know it hasn't been easy for you," he begins "but you're doing a wonderful job. always so obedient, so caring of me. one day, I would like you make you my wife."

you're heart beats faster after the mention of "wife". this was the first time he's ever said the word. could this really be happening?

"I would be honored to," you grin unable to hide your excitement. for the rest of the day, you're elated and bubbly at the possible idea that one day you'll be suguru's permanently.

xxx xxx xxx xxx

he fucks you fast and hard that night, you take every inch of his dick a the good girl you are, leaving his dick inside of you overnight while you sleep in his embrace. the next morning you feel a wave of nausea, throwing up until you puke clear liquid from the depths of your stomach. it could be forming eating too many deserts, but you pull a pregnancy test form behind the mirror cabinet in the bathroom just to be safe, and wait the five longest minutes of your life to find the stick displaying two bright blue lines. your heart sinks.

"suguru...i think.. i might.." you say coming out of the bathroom finding him at the dining table, tears begin welling in your eyes. "I'm pregnant!" you blurt out, shoving the pregnancy test towards him.

he gingerly grabs the stick, taking a few minutes to process the news and then sinks down to his knees at your feet, peppering thousands of kisses at your navel.

"i've been waiting for this moment," he says rubbing your belly. "i cant want to see youre body grow with my child, youre gonna make such a good mama, i promise."

suguru stands up to wipe your tears away, giving you a big hug. you were finally bound to him forever. with his essence inside you and a baby on the way, you could never leave him even if you tried. he rubs your back, letting you sob on his shoulder. you are his for the rest of time.

[13as07]

Spitting Image #4

(Gaara Sabaku)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to silent.rosario]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 4,077

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Part five? Maybe. Prequel? Also maybe. Y’all’s thoughts?

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     I have spent the last year and a half shifting between being thankful to Gaara and hating him. At this moment, I hate him. I am hot, sweaty, sunburnt, with sand in crevices I didn't know existed. And, this camel isn't too comfortable to ride. I am tired and irritable. Honestly, I'm just being a bitch right now and I know it. Sadly for Gaara, he's on the wrong end of the bitch stick.

     On the plus note, Yoshiki seems to be living his best life. Courtesy of his father's genes, the heat doesn't seem to bother him. If anything, he's enjoying the temperature and the feeling of the sand Shinki keeps playing with him in.

     "My Dear - "

     "Call me that again and I'll cut your tongue out," I hiss at Gaara, stopping whatever attempt at comforting he was going to offer this time. "I am not your dear, we are not together, you're nothing more than the father of my child. Don't let this move convince you otherwise."

     He goes stone-faced, slowly blinking in that dumb way he does when he's thinking. "Perhaps we shall spend the day cooling off once we get back to the village. I think the heat is getting to you."

     "And I think you're a dumbass with a weak pull-out game," I mumble under my breath, shifting on the camel saddle again.

     "My dear - "

     "I'm going to stab you."

     " - would you like me to get you down? Maybe stretching your legs will help you feel better. You get antsy if you stay still too long. Besides, I'm sure Shinki could use the rest."

"Jerk," I mutter, rolling my eyes at the man. As if he knows what will make me feel better.

I know he heard me, the proof being the slow blinking of his eyes again. Regardless, Gaara's hold on the camel's reins drops to grip my waist. He helps me down, sight as intense as ever as he settles me on my feet. "See? Better. Now, please be nice," he mutters, hands sliding over my sides to brush off some of the sand specks. "I'm not too fond of the attitude you have at the moment."

"Ya? You won't be too fond of my foot up your - "

"Papa?" Shinki calls, cutting off my empty threat. "Can Yoshiki ride the camel with me?"

"Yes."

"No," I answer, head snapping towards Gaara. "No, it's not safe," I repeat, glaring at the boys' father who seems confused by my decision.

     "It will be fine. Shinki has been carrying him, what would the difference be if he kept carrying him?"

     "Instead of a four-foot fall, it would be a seven-foot fall?!" I say more than ask, dumbfounded by the shinobi's thought process. "Not to mention it's a bumper ride than just walking with him in his arms. It'll be harder to hold him especially if he wiggles around."

     "It will be fine," Gaara repeats, lifting Shinki - with Yoshiki still in his hold - onto the camel.

     "It will not be fine. Gaara, get him down!" I shriek, panic quickly feeling me up. "What if he falls? What if - "

     "What if you calmed down?" He asks, leaning in to bump his nose against mine. I stand there stunned, blinking at the dumbass as my panic quickly grows into anger. "My apologies, Shikamaru does that to Temari when she gets a bit much to handle. It tends to calm her down, it does not calm you down."

"Of course it's not going to calm me down! My baby is up way too high! The chances of him falling and getting hurt"

"He is fine, my dear. Shinki is not going to drop him, and even if he does - which he will not - I am right here to catch him. Please calm down. Your irritation is starting to irritate me."

Before I can stop myself, my hand swings forward, having a mind of its own. A mind to smack the stupidity out of Gaara. The hit doesn't land though, he catches my wrist before I have a chance to touch him. "Perhaps while the boys take a dip in the springs, we can have some alone time. My brother tells me women can get irritable when their bedroom needs have not been fulfilled in a while."

He has to be kidding, right? Gaara can't be this stupid, this naive, this unaware of the things he says. "What the hell is your problem?" I hiss, trying and failing to tug my wrist out of his hold. "What part of 'we aren't together' do you not understand?"

Another round of slow blinking, making the black markings of Gaara's eyes stand out. I like his markings, the ones around his eyes, the one on his forehead. They're what originally caught my attention, but I can't think of that right now, because he is an irresponsible idiot.

"Would you like to sit on the camel with the boys? Would that calm you down?"

"Yes."

He lets out a soft sigh before turning away from me, going to work situating the three of us in the saddle. "Better?" He mumbles, his hand clinging to my thigh I have pressed against the sides of the animal.

"I guess," I murmur, trying to shake his hand off. "Can we get going? I feel like I'm melting."

"As you wish, Dear."

                      ————————————

All I can think about is a cold shower and a nap as Gaara leads us around the streets of his village. Yoshiki has the same idea, my son is fast asleep, cuddled up in the back wrap his father is carrying him in. Shinki is fast asleep too, my watchful eyes on him as he rests in the saddle.

     "My dear - "

     "Stop calling me that."

     "My dear," he repeats, stopping in his tracks. "What is it that you want made for dinner?"

     "What do you want for dinner?" I ask, leaning closer to take a peek at Yoshiki. "I can make whatever you want. I'm not really in the mood to eat anything."

     Gaara's head tilts as his face scrunches up. "You do not have to cook anything for dinner. We have chefs at the palace. They shall cook us dinner."

     "What?"

     "My dear," he annoyingly says for the hundredth time today. "There is staff at the Hokage palace. They take care of things so there is less I need to do. Cooking, cleaning, all that stuff."

     "Oh," I mutter, the fears that come along with this move amping up again. "That's... useful."

     "Yes, it is. I will have to get Yoshiki and you ID cards for the palace but for now it should be fine. I also - " Gaara goes on a ramble about the things he needs to do to get our son and me settled.

     I let his ramble go on as I follow after him. Soon a round-looking building with a red symbol falls into view, standing out from all the sandstone buildings. "Gaara?"

     "Yes, my dear?"

     I brush off the nickname this time. "What's that building?" I ask, pointing to the symboled building.

     His eyes flicker towards where I'm pointing before falling back to me. "It is my home, our home. It is our home," he rambles, tugging in the camel's reins before his free hand falls to grip mine. "Let me take you home," he whispers, tugging all of us forward.

     What I think is eagerness flows off the man who's almost dragging me forward. "You seem excited," I tease, letting my eyes flicker down to our joint hands. I don't know how I feel about it. It's not the worst feeling in the world, it's actually pretty nice. Maybe I'm being too harsh, maybe I'm not giving Gaara enough credit, or enough effort.

     "I am not excited. I am... I would like to see my family in my house. I would like to see that a lot."

     "So, excited?" I repeat, a smile crawling on my face. Maybe I should give him a chance, he is trying really hard after all. "Gaara?"

     "Yes, my dear? Have you given some thought to us enjoying our marital perks?"

     Just kidding. Gaara is an idiot who doesn't know boundaries. "No," I mutter, shaking my hand loose from his. "Just a reminder, we're not married."

     "Not yet, but - "

     "But never," I cut him off, leaning closer to him long enough to pull Yoshiki out of his carrier wraps. "We're not going to get married. Not now, not soon, not never," I hiss, holding my son to my chest as I storm away from him.

     "My dear? Will you calm down? I don't understand why you're upset," he calls after me, trailing behind as I rush towards the palace.

     "Because you're suffocating, Gaara," I shriek, quickly walking up the steps of Yosh's and my new home.

     "I'm suffocating? What do you mean? I don't understand, dear. Would you please explain what is happening?"

     "Dear Lord, Gaara!" I yell, turning to the side so I can look at him and not fall down the stairs. "That! You're trying so hard and... and... go away!"

     I storm the rest of the way up the stairs, Yoshiki now awake, my upsetness rubbing off on him and warming up his tantrum. "Ma'am!" A man at the entrance calls. His head is covered in a wrapping and one of those hourglass headbands I've seen around the village hangs around his neck. "You cannot enter the palace without showing your ID badge."

     "Bug off," I groan, storming past him to push the door open.

     "Madam, don't make you detain you," the man calls, jumping forward to tug my hand off the door.

     "Norio, unhand her this instant!" Gaara calls anger coating his face and his words. "She and my son are free to come and go as they wish. If you ever put your hands on her again, you will not be found by anyone. There won't be anything to find, am I understood?"

     He's fuming by the time the threat is let loose, jaw locked and murder swimming in his eyes. The look makes my heart pound in my chest and my arms tighten around my son. This isn't how Gaara acts, he's soft-spoken, he's gentle, he doesn't yell, and he sure as hell doesn't threaten to kill people.

     "Yes, Kazekage. My apologies, my lord," the guard says, releasing me before he bows. "My greatest apologies consort Kazekage."

     "My dear," Gaara calls, helping his son to his feet before working his way up the stairs. "Would you please calm down?"

     "Would you please leave me alone?" I shout, walking through the door before slamming it in his face.

     I storm through the palace, rocking Yoshiki who has started screaming in my arms. This village is suffocating, this house is suffocating, Gaara is suffocating. I thought he was just scary looking, that it was just how he looked, but after how quickly that threat came out and how upset he looked, I don't think it's just a façade.

     "It's okay, my love," I coo, shifting Yosh further up so I can cover his cheeks in kisses. "It's okay... we're just... in a village I know nothing about, with the only person I know being your father, who is scary as hell," I mutter more to myself than to Yosh. My soft tone works nonetheless, calming him down.

     As my son soothes down, I look around the random hallway we've ended up in. The thought of calling for Gaara crosses my mind, quickly being followed by the fear the scene outside has littered my nerves. "What position did I put us in?" I murmur, shifting Yoshiki in my hold. He smiles at me, hands landing on my cheeks to squish them as he babbles.

     "Lady Sabaku?" A voice calls, a young lady with a long head of raven hair asks, her head poking out from a door a few paces ahead. "Lord Gaara said you'd be home today. I have drawn an ice bath for you if you'd like to cool off. I'm sure the heat of the desert has gotten to you."

     My eyes flickered between Yoshiki and the woman, my nerves still shot. Is this a trap or am I just uneasy? However, I could use the cool down and Yosh is covered in sand. "Yes, I'd enjoy that," I finally decide, slowly walking forward. "Thank you...?"

     "Gou," the woman says, bowing once I'm stood in front of her. "My name is Gou, Lady Sabaku. I am your handmaid, my lady."

     "Handmaid?" I ask, shifting Yoshiki again. I don't know why he seems so heavy today. Probably because of the heat still seeping off my skin.

     "Yes, my lady," Gou says, standing up straight before she snaps her fingers. The door swings open wider, another lady - this one with short red hair - pops out from the room. "This is Sana. She is the palace nanny. Her primary focus is Shinki but until we find a nanny you approve of for Yoshiki, she will aid you in caring for him."

     "I... don't want her touching my son...s," I say, making it plural toward the end. If she's Shinki's nanny, Gaara must approve of her, so she's a good person... maybe? I don't know, especially after Gaara's little power trip.

     "As you wish, my lady. Give me a few moments to prepare your bath to suit Yoshiki joining you," the woman mumbles before turning on her heels.

     "Wait!" I call, holding my son closer to my chest as the Sana lady bows before walking down the hallway. Gou stops in her tracks, turning back towards me. "What... what is a handmaid?"

     "It means I am your personal servant. I am here to serve you in any way necessary, at any time, for anything you need. I am at your serves, my lady." She finishes off the little speech with another bow. "What you and our prince still like an ice bath?"

     "Yes, please."

                      ————————————

     My eyes are locked on the boys through the cracked door. As I've been soaking in the bath, Shinki and Yoshiki have been playing with Shinki's nanny. She seems nice, which has helped me calm down a bit. Shinki is bouncing on the guest bed, making his younger brother tumble around from the mattress moving. The nanny promptly sat on the bed, leaning over the mattress to help keep my son upright and not accidentally stumbled on.

     There's a knock on the door before Gaara's head pops in, cutting off my view of the boys. "Hello, my dear."

     "I've told you to stop calling me that," I mumble, sliding deeper into the bathtub.

     "As you wish, my... darling," he mutters the last word, imaginary eyebrows scrunching together as he walks into the bathroom. "It seems that you have settled. I have had Gou and some of the other servants unpack your things."

     "In there?" I ask, flickering my eyes towards the bedroom.

     "Of course not. It's been unpacked into - "

     "We are not sharing a bedroom," I cut him off, sinking even lower, the water settling over my shoulders now.

     "Not for the time being. You will stay in the master bedroom. I shall stay in a guest room unless you are comfortable with us sharing a bed."

     "I'm not."

     "Then I shall stay in a guest room," he mutters, his eyes scanning the bath water before they flicker towards the window in the room. His cheeks are a light pink color, a bit blown out as he stares at the street outside. "Kankuro tells me it sounds like I have scared you. Is that true? Did I scare you?"

     "Maybe," I mutter, skirting my fingertips over the surface of the water. "You were a little... harsh with Mr Security Guard. You don't usually act like that and... it was scary."

     Gaara lets out a sigh before he sinks to the tiled floor. His chin rests on the side of the tub, his cat-like eyes locked on my face as he stares at me. His eyes are intense, not the 'I'm going to murder someone' intense but the usual 'trying to figure you out' intense.

     "I did not mean to scare you," he whispers, eyes flickering down before they settle on my face again. "I just..." his cheeks puff out for a second as his eyes jump around, ending up settling on the boys still playing in the bedroom. "I did not like how it made me feel... seeing the palace guard grabbing at you. It made me a little... I don't know."

     "You don't know what?" I ask, blowing on the water to cause it to ripple.

     "I don't know how you make me feel. I enjoy... you, but you make me very angry. Especially when you get angry and won't tell what I have done."

     I scan the confused man for a moment, taking in the dark circles of his eyes that are more visible because of his scrunched-up face. Slowly, I move my hand out of the water to cup Gaara's cheek, confusion flickering across his face as his focus shifts to me again.

     "Gaara?"

     "Yes, my dear - er - darling?"

     I swipe my thumb over his cheek watching the confusion slide around his face. "You can be a little much sometimes. Just because we have a child together doesn't mean I want to, let alone am ready for us to be together."

     "I don't make you feel good?" He asks, his soft confusion is quickly bubbly to angry confusion. "You make me feel... nice. Why don't I make you feel nice? I do not understand."

     "You do, sometimes. You made me feel really nice the first time I met you - "

     "Well yes, that is what sex is for. To make people feel good."

     "Not just the sex, Gaara," I groan, dropping my hand from his face and letting it soak into the bath water again. "You move too fast. I am happy you want to be with me and I like having you around, but there are some steps between being strangers to being a married couple."

     "I am aware, but we... missed some steps. I like how you make me feel and you have had my son. I want you to be my wife, so you shall be my wife. That is what we are supposed to do."

     "Gaara."

     "My darling?"

     "I will make you a list."

     "A list?"

     "Yes, a list," I mutter, fluttering my eyes closed. "I will make you a list of stuff that makes me feel how I make you feel. When you have all the boxes checked off, you can ask me to marry you again."

     "Until then?"

     "Until then, stop asking me to marry you, stop talking about weddings, and just... stop talking about the future for now, okay? I just need some space."

     He blinks slowly as his eyes flicker between my face and my chest. "Alright, I will give you space."

     I let out a sigh, my shoulders relaxing at the spare-of-the-moment plan I came up with. It's not a lie, I do enjoy Gaara and a part of me will always love him especially since he is the father of my son. I'm sure if he slowed down I would fall in love with him, but if he keeps pushing I don't think it'll work out how we both seem to want.

     "Darling?" I hum a yes, opening one of my eyes to look at him. Gaara's eyes are soft and now locked on my legs instead of my chest. "I wish to join your bath. You should let me join you."

     I let out another sigh, deciding it would be easier to end my bath than fight the father of my child. "I'm getting out actually, do you mind grabbing me a towel."

     "As you wish, darling."

     "As you wish, darling," I mumble under my breath, a soft smile crawling on my face as I watch Gaara search for a towel.

                      ————————————

     A knock at the door stirs me in my bed. Like usual, my first reaction is to check on Yoshiki who's asleep in the bassinet next to my bed. Gaara tried insisting on letting him sleep in the nursery set up for him across the room, but the thought made me panic. So many people that come and go from the palace that I don't know, let alone trust. I would have never been able to sleep with him so far away.

     Another knock comes, pulling a sigh from me. I've sighed a lot today, courtesy of Gaara's failing attempts to give me space. On the plus note, he hasn't mentioned anything about marriage or weddings since our conversation.

     "Come in," I mutter, flapping back onto the bed. It's huge, easily fitting three people fully stretched out. Everything here is huge, the rooms, the dining room, the hallways, everything.

     The door slowly gets pushed open, the light from the hallway sneaking in. "Darling?"

     "Gaara?" I sigh out, eyes caught in the hanging drapes of the bed frame.

     "Can I come in?"

     "Sure."

     More light spills in before it's cut off by the door closing. The soft patter of Gaara crossing the carpet fills the space, soon replaced by the sound of him crawling into bed with me. The hot-headed Shinobi hangs his head above mine, his red hair fanned out and his forehead mark on full display, reminding me of the similar one our son has. "Hello, Darling. I have been looking over your list."

     "Ya?"

     "Yes. Should I do the things in order?" He asks, head tilting as his eyes run over my face.

     "Not necessarily, why?"

     Gaara settles down next to me, sitting against the headboard before he pulls out the paper. I shift in bed, mirroring his position. My eyes scan over the sheet, rereading the list I made for him.

     Date Nights

     Day trips

     Cooking together

     Late night cuddles

     Love Letters

     Star gazing

     Spa Nights

     "I don't know what cuddling is, but it is late at night. Would you show me?" He asks, cutting me off from finishing reading the page.

     My eyes flicker towards him, taking in the blankness of it as he looks at me for guidance. "Ya, I can."

     "What are the steps?"

     I let out an airy laugh, flickering my eyes around the room. "Just lay down, Gaara."

     "Why? Am I going to sleep? If so, I will need to change out of my day clothes."

     "Dear lord, Gaar. Fine, take off your clothes. Strip down to your boxes. I don't care," I groan, and lay back down on the bed. I snap my eyes closed again, soaking in the warmth of the bedding.

     The bed undips as he climbs out of it, the sound of his clothes shuffling off filling the space. "I am unclothed. Now what do I do?"

     I roll onto my back, letting my eyes scan Gaara's frame, the frame I haven't seen in so long. "What the hell is on your sides?" I ask, the imprints there snagging my attention but I am unable to make out what it is.

     "Your scratch marks."

     "What?"

     "The scratch marks from our night together. They made me feel... the ways you made me feel. So, I had them permanently stuck on my skin."

     "You tattooed the scratch marks I left on you?"

     "Yes."

     My eyes blink on over-drive as I look at the emotionally unintelligent man next to the mattress. "Lay down under the sheets," I muttered, lifting the blanket. Gaara does as he's ordered, laying as stiff as a board once he's in the bed. I slowly shift closer to him, laying next to his side and resting my head on his chest. "You don't have to be... unclothed for us to cuddle, by the way."

     "Alright."

     "It's love, by the way."

     "What is love?"

     "The thing I make you feel. It's called love."

     "Do you love me?"

     "I think so," I whisper, wrapping my arms around him. "You scare me so it's hard to tell, but yes, I think I do."

     "Do you know I love you?"

     "I mean, you gave me a son that's the spitting image of you so I'm pretty sure I know you love me."

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[hellohailu]

☽ under the moon, we collide ☾

㊐ one : collision ㊊

SUMMARY │Born and raised in a small isolated village, Ajla has never had any reason to question the beliefs and traditions she was raised to follow. Yet, on the most important day of her young life, a chance encounter with a traveler from the outside sparks a strange and haunting vision. Torn between her devotion to her village and finding the answers to her questions, Ajla must now decide the path she wants to walk.

PAIRING │Jongdae 종대 / Original Female Character

RATING │ T [SFW]

GENRE │ Fantasy!AU, Mythology!AU

LENGTH │ 7,089 words

NETWORK │ @exols-silver-christmas

MANY THANKS TO │ my two extraordinary betas, L. and C. I couldn't have done it without you !

AUTHOR'S NOTE │ This story was written for Ju (@breeze-of-sunlight) for the 2024 EXO-L Secret Santa event ! It is cut into three parts ; the remaining two will be posted sometime in the beginning of next year. This is my first story, so likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! ∼ Hailu

BEFORE YOU READ │ One of my original characters [Luan] has a name that is very similar to the name of an ex EXO member [Luhan]. Please keep in mind that these characters are not the same person ! While Luhan might end up mentioned in the other parts, Luan has a much more central role in the story and is bound to appear quite often.

Click here to listen to the little playlist I made for this story.

Grandmother once told me that this land was not always ours. It seems hard to believe, seeing how well acclimated we are to the mild weather and gentle winds of this place. Our people have lived here for a very long time: I was born and have grown up here, in this little village, as was Grandmother. The stories she tells, about foreign grounds and harder times, she learned from her own grandfather, a stern warrior who came here from the North with a few hundred others to seek shelter in a more welcoming land.

I am not sure what became of the people that were calling this place their home before we did. Grandmother said they were a peaceful kind, with strange customs and even stranger gods. I heard, most of them left, and the remaining ones adopted our traditions and practices. Eventually, our culture was the only one to remain.

A long time has passed since then, and our Holy One has allowed us to prosper and live in peace. Of all the villages my people have established in this region, I live in the smallest. Our numbers hardly reach a hundred souls, and I know that on this day, each and every one of them is going to attend the ceremony. It takes place every three years, in midsummer. On the day of the second full moon of the season, we can finally reap the fruits of our yearly labour. As a sign of devotion to our Holy One, every daughter who is at least twenty springs of age ought to enter adulthood through an entire week of uninterrupted prayer, after which she will finally be considered adult enough to marry and bear children.

“Ouch !” I say, reaching up to massage the part of my head where Mother has pulled my hair a little too hard. I stop right in my tracks when I hear a disapproving sound behind me.

“Don’t be a child, Ajla,” she sighs. I lower my hand, my scalp still throbbing. “Why is your hair always so tangled ?”

In a sudden moment of realisation, she grabs my shoulders and makes me turn around so I can meet her eyes. I instantly lower them to the ground, as I almost always do.

“You untied it for the night, didn’t you ?”

“I just… it was pulled too tight, I couldn’t sleep,” I tentatively try.

“Remember Ajla, the Holy One despises the arrogant and the vain. I should have cut your hair a long time ago,” she lets an exasperated sigh escape her. “We don’t have time now, we still have to help with the preparations for the ceremony and go get your prayer dress for tonight.” She finishes brushing my long messy blond hair in a hurry, and then braids it into a tight updo at the base of my neck. I hold back a wince at the harsh treatment she gives to my head.

“It is good you got a little sleep nonetheless. You’ll need all the energy you can get for the Prayer. Our Holy One will test your strength in a way you have never experienced before. You’ll never be quite the same after you come out of the Sanctuary, Ajla. It was the same for me.”

I listen silently. It is the first time Mother talks about how hard of a trial the Prayer can be. She is a stern woman, hardened by the trials of life, but she likes to talk about the Holy One, and she reveres Him in a way I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to understand. Our whole community, myself included, is very devoted to our divinity, but Mother believes in His power with her whole heart. She says, her faith in the Holy One is what gives her strength.

I know what the Prayer entails, everybody does, but the gap between knowledge and experience can sometimes prove to be dangerous. An entire week of prayer, locked in a small room with only enough food to keep us alive. It is complete isolation, no contact to the outside world allowed. The Prayer is supposed to test our faith and devotion to the Holy One, and no one is allowed to interrupt. Not that there would even be a possibility to interrupt, as the opening of the praying rooms get nailed shut to ensure nothing will distract the participants.

“Get dressed, we’re going to the storehouse first,” Mother says before leaving me alone in the room. I sigh, and walk towards a small hook attached to the wall. The women of our village must always walk around with their body covered to maintain modesty : for that reason, it is common that we wear a flowy upper garment on top of our dresses, that we call “kiva”. Mine is long enough for the sleeves to almost reach my fingertips. As is tradition, it also has a hood so I am able to properly cover my hair. Father mentioned once, that showing my body too much would only bring me dishonour, that what I was hiding was to only be shown inside of my home in the presence of my close family and, when I am wed, of my husband. That this was the Holy One’s will. Sometimes, I wonder if we do the things we do for the Holy One, or for the sake of some old traditions that have existed since long before my birth.

After making sure my kiva is on correctly, its hood held in place with pins in my hair, I join Mother, who is waiting for me at the doorstep. In a few short weeks, summer will yield to autumn ; the days will become shorter and the leaves will turn orange and yellow. Right now though, the heat, if not quite stifling, is still well present. We start walking slowly towards the storehouse, where we keep all our food, and apart from the bustle of the final ceremony preparations, this day feels like any other summer day.

Yet, when my eyes land on a small stall filled with strange items and foreign designs, I understand that something about today will be different from usual. Today will bring change.

They look different, misplaced in this little village of mine that is not accustomed to receiving visits from foreigners. They are dressed in various colours, some bright and some dark, a stark contrast to the sea of cream and brown coloured clothes that my people commonly wear.

I see a middle-aged woman smile gently at the passersby, showing a few of them the items she is selling. She does not look like me, or any of my people, but I find her utterly beautiful. Her hair is long and dark, draping over her shoulders in messy curls, and she’s wearing a strange embroidered headband. Her long tunic is a deep red colour and decorated at the seams with patterns I have never seen before, leaving part of her shoulders bare, exposing golden, sun kissed skin. It is a couple tones darker than my own, my kiva perpetually keeping it hidden from sun and moon alike. Her eyes all of a sudden find mine, and she smiles at me from where she stands, behind her stall. I look at her curiously, and find myself wanting to smile back.

It is at this moment that I feel Mother’s hand on my back, urging me forward. She takes her place at my other side, positioning herself between the woman and me, blocking my view.

“Do not talk to them, Ajla. I forbid you to even look at them, do you hear me ?” she whispers, her tone serious and authoritative.

“Why so, Mother ? We do not see foreigners very often and–”

“And it is best that way. They are heretics, Ajla. They are not like us.”

I can sense from the tone of her voice that she will not accept any more discussion about the travellers, so I stay quiet and we walk the rest of the way in silence. The storehouse is always a flurry of activity, especially during harvest season. My people mainly thrive thanks to the fruits and vegetables we grow within the walls of the village. While we sometimes eat meat from the small animals we raise, we no longer hunt like our ancestors did. Seeking larger prey would mean stepping a foot in the forest, and the woods are dark and scary, the foliage of the trees thick enough that it is not possible to see the sun from the ground. I have never left the village – Father says, it is best I stay where I belong, in the safety of the walls that have seen me grow – but I heard rumours once, about how the forest and the mountain are places that the Holy One cannot reach.

My thoughts are interrupted by the rumpus of men and women in the storehouse, gossiping loudly as they wash the produce we harvested a few days ago so it can be prepared in the kitchens. Had today been any other day, the presence of foreigners in the village would have surely caused a commotion, but everyone seems to have forgotten them now that the Prayer is approaching.

“Mother ! Ajla ! Over here !” my brother yells, waving his long arms to catch our attention from the very back of the room.

I shouldn’t feel this way, but it breaks my heart just a little to see Mother’s face instantly break out into a bright smile. I have no memories of her ever looking at me with that same affection in her eyes. I had an older brother once, who was Mother’s pride and joy. She was never quite the same after his sudden death at the age of six, brought on by a feat of uncontrollable fever. She cried for years, prayed for days on end, tried everything in her power to give birth to a second son. I can barely remember his face, but I’ll never forget Mother’s tears. In hindsight, I think a part of her died with Adem. Luan was the one that gave her a new breath after three long years of mourning her lost child. And then there is I, Ajla, always stuck in the middle, between Adem’s memory and Luan’s sweet smile, neither truly seen nor completely invisible.

For the next couple of hours, I help with whatever needs to be prepared. It’s hot inside the storehouse, and the effort starts to make me sweat, my kiva keeping my arms and my hair covered not helping with the afternoon heat. Luan’s chatter is a welcome distraction from my thoughts of family, faith and foreigners, even though I still feel nervous about the upcoming ceremony and Prayer. When he asks a question excitedly, I turn and smile at him, answering with as much liveliness as I can muster. He does not seem to pick up on my thoughts and somewhat sour mood, and I thank the Holy One for that. My little brother just turned twenty summers old, and by the time the next ceremony takes place, he’ll be aged enough to be married. Luan has always been adored and doted on by the whole family, including me, and despite his tall stature and long limbs, childlike features still linger on his face, giving him an uncanny resemblance to the older brother that he has never known. For that reason, and to Luan’s dismay, Mother has a hard time letting him out of her sight.

I stop working when I feel the gentle press of a hand on my shoulder. The girl looking at me is dressed in a similar fashion, with a long dress and cream-coloured kiva to match. Under her hood, her hair is some shade of blond, a characteristic shared by many of our people, though her striking grey eyes are a little unusual. She takes my wrist in her hand and smiles warmly. After hours of working here, it seems we are both ready to escape the storehouse mission we’ve been given. We just need to ask for permission first.

“Master, it is getting late and both Ajla and I still need to stop by the tailoress’ shop. I was planning to go now, would you mind if we go together ?” Ema asks, her gaze low. Father is not a bad man, but he is tall and intimidating, and even though Luan is growing up to share most of his traits, I hope he retains the gentleness that has characterised him since he was a baby.

“Rona, didn’t you want to go with our daughter?” Father asks his wife.

“I… I was planning to, but she might as well go now. We have work here still,” she says, and I would be lying if I said I am not a little glad to finally have a chaperone my age.

Luan smiles at my friend. “They will also not be able to see each other again until after the ceremony, so it’s important to enjoy each other’s company now. Right, Ema ?” he smiles at my friend. His back is turned to our parents, and his teasing wink is lost to them. Ema’s cheeks redden, but she nods politely.

Father looks at my brother and accepts without too much of a fight. Other than the fact that Luan has had our parents wrapped around his little finger since his birth, he also has the advantage of being male, which the Holy One has decided would be the stronger and wiser gender. His support is precious, even if we soon will be wed and not part of the same household anymore. Ema and I leave the storehouse, and though the walk to the tailoress’ shop is short, it is filled with excited ramblings from my friend, who seems to be in a vastly different mood than I.

“I can’t wait to prove myself to our Holy One,” she says, and I look at her a bit perplexed.

“Aren’t you scared ? That you are not going to hold up with so little food and rest ?”

“Well, there aren't really any alternatives, are there ? And then we’ll be out, and we’ll finally be able to get married !” She exclaims. “Do you have anyone in mind ?”

It wouldn't matter in the end, the decision is not ours, just like it had not been my parents’ choice to be wed. But I know that Ema is already aware of that fact, and I do not want to crush her spirits. This casual banter feels somewhat good.

“I do not,” I say truthfully. “What about you ?”

“Oh– um, yes, I actually do, you know, have someone in mind,” Ema answers, her face becoming redder by the minute.

I smile to myself. It’s Luan. My friend thinks she's good at hiding her fancy of my little brother, but I am convinced that everybody, including Luan himself, knows about it. I hope the people of my community will take Ema and Luan’s wishes into account when making their decisions. I hope they choose someone good for me, too.

Ema and I were never really close until a few years ago, around the time of the last ceremony. To participate in the Prayer, all girls must be aged of at least twenty springs, but I was born at the very end of the summer, making me half a season too young at the time. Ema was born in the autumn a couple weeks after me, and we both bonded over the knowledge that when our Prayer would come around, we would be the oldest participants.

The shop is small, but peaceful. The business used to be held by a man, until his death a decade ago. His wife has taken over the affairs of the shop since then, handling the business with an iron hand and a heart of gold. Everybody in the village likes Nona, but I like to think she and I have a closer bond. She was Grandmother’s dearest friend, and talking to Nona feels a lot like it used to feel talking to her.

I see the old woman at the back of the room, adjusting a big piece of ivory-coloured cloth. She smiles instantly when we greet her, the curve of her lips accentuating all the wrinkles on her face. Her hair is covered, like mine and Ema’s, but I can see a hint of grey where her hood is a little misplaced on her head.

“Look who’s here ! Aren’t these girls a little late ? Everybody else has collected their dresses already,” Nona says, with a tiny hint of disapproval in her voice. Nonetheless, she heads for the backroom and comes back only a minute later, carrying in her arms two identical outfits.

The shape and looks of the ceremonial outfits never change from one ceremony to another. Year after year, they stay the same simple flowy dress and kiva, and are not decorated with any patterns or symbols. They look very similar to our daily clothes, except for their colour, an almost blinding whiteness, that is meant to represent the participants’ purity, both moral and physical. I have seen this dress on so many girls, yet it’s still hard to realise that in just a few hours, I will be the one wearing it.

“They’re beautiful,” Ema gasps next to me, taking her outfit in her arms with the utmost care, as if it was some fragile thing going to break. This dress has meaning for my people, as the ceremony dates back to long before most of my ancestors were born. It is stunning, and one of the most beautiful pieces of clothing that I will ever wear. Yet, I am not sure how to react, as the weight of what such a garment means slowly but surely crashes on me. Feeling Nona’s gaze on me, I settle for thanking her for her hard work. She gives me a carefully guarded smile.

“You remind me so much of your grandmother,” she says fondly, with a hint of melancholy in her voice. “She was scared too.”

“I– I’m not scared, Nona” I stutter, a little panicked that she would doubt my faith in our Holy One, that I would dare be frightened by the prospect of honouring Him.

“Oh but you are, Ajla. We all are, before we step foot in the Sanctuary. And then we endure ; the hunger, the weariness and the weight of the confessions we make. You’ll learn to endure too. In the Prayer and in life, you’ll endure.”

She slowly grabs my hand and takes something out of her kiva’s pocket to put it in my palm. It's a white handkerchief, embroidered with beautiful pink flowers, a rarity in my community, where clothes are plain and neutral in colours.

“This belonged to your grandmother. She got it from her own mother. She was wearing it on her wrist when she did her Prayer. She wanted you to have it. Her only granddaughter. She wanted you to find your way, for our Holy One to give you strength.”

Even though it is not written in law that the participants to the Prayer must not have any additional garment or accessory, it is not conventional enough that Grandmother thought it would be safe to give me her handkerchief through my parents when my time came. I am not surprised ; for all the love Grandmother had for her culture, her people and her customs, she always found Mother, her daughter-in-law, to be a little too stern.

I thank Nona profusely, and part ways with Ema in front of the shop. We both have to return home now, and we live on opposite sides of the village. I walk slowly, as if getting home later was going to push back the time of the ceremony. With both hands busy holding my dress high in my arms to avoid creating creases, I can only lightly grasp the handkerchief with the tips of my fingers. The sun will set in a couple hours and the heat of the early afternoon is long gone, replaced by steady winds.

I gasp when Grandmother’s handkerchief slips from my fingers, stolen away by a gust of air, and I hurry past surprised passersby, trying to catch up with it as it dances further and further away from me. It seems as if the winds are having fun playing with something I hold so dear to my heart. The delicate piece of cloth swirls around, as light as a feather. Each time I come close to it, the handkerchief starts its crazy escape again, seemingly mocking me.

Eventually, it slips under a table filled with goods on sale, and one of the merchants bends down to pick it up. I stop right in my tracks. Grandmother’s handkerchief is in the hands of one of the foreigners I saw earlier on my way to the storehouse with Mother. I am still a good distance from them, but he’s undoubtedly male. The heretic cradles the cloth in his palms like it's some fragile treasure, and seems to gently brush some dust off of it before raising his head and starts looking around, obviously searching for the owner. Searching for me.

Flustered and still out of breath, I duck behind a nearby wall, a hand on my chest to calm my racing heart. What shall I do now ? Mother said not to talk to them, she even forbade me to get too close. I should let it go, pass them by without sparing a glance in their direction.

On the other hand, I do not wish to let go of the only thing Grandmother has left me. She said it would help me, she said it would bring me strength. Besides, what could happen if I just asked for it ? Surely the stranger will give it back ? I just have to make it quick, so Mother will not see me if she returns from the storehouse earlier than planned. Yes, that is what I should do. What Mother does not know, can not upset her.

I fold my uniform in my arms, forgetting all about not making any creases, and start to make my way over to the stall, with an assurance that is not quite authentic. It is not the first time I see travelers, but it is the first time Mother has explicitly forbidden me to talk to them, her earlier words of distrust engraved in my mind. It is obvious that they do not worship the Holy One ; as otherwise their women would not show their arms and their hair so openly. They could be dangerous, but our numbers outweigh theirs and we are in the heart of the village. The day of the ceremony is the best to trade and sell goods. There is a crowd in the streets, all the shops are open. Nothing can go wrong.

The heretic calmly watches me get closer, his gaze fixed on me. I stop right before the stall, a table filled with various colourful items, the only thing separating us. Up close, I am able to see him better ; he looks about my age, maybe a little older. Unlike Father or Luan, he is not very tall or imposing, only outsizing me by half a head. Like the other foreigners, he is wearing an embroidered headband, the piece partially hidden under loosely curled hair the darkest shade of brown I have ever seen. Though all headbands have similarities in design, patterns and colours differ, making each piece completely unique. He is dressed in a simple blue tunic that is creased and folded all over, and closed at the shoulders by two pins, allowing whoever is looking to see his entire arms.

Busy as I am staring at the man in front of me, I realise a minute too late that he is examining me as well, the shadow of a cheeky smile tugging at the upturned corners of his lips. Not wanting to spend more time than I must in the presence of the stranger, I extend my arm towards him, palm upturned.

“I have lost my handkerchief. I would like to have it back,” I try. He keeps looking at me with the same expression on his face, and I wonder for a moment if we speak the same language. “Please ?” I add tentatively. “Um, it seems like the winds were mocking me, making me run around like that after a stupid cloth,” I explain, conveniently forgetting to mention how dear said stupid cloth is to my heart.

This time, the foreigner’s mouth stretches into a gentle, full-blown smile that reaches his brown eyes, and I wonder for a moment what could be so funny.

When the young man before me starts speaking, he sounds strong and powerful, although not unkind. He has a very light accent I can not quite place. “The winds are mischievous, they love to play. They love to make people dance.”

I still, astounded. I was not prepared for that answer, and I do not know quite how to respond. In the end, I decide to let the conversation run its – hopefully short – course.

“Yes, um, I… guess they do ?” I whisper. “I am not sure I liked this dance very much though.”

“They’re nice enough, once you learn to know them,” he says, smiling brightly as if he did not just talk about the winds as if they were living and breathing. He’s mad. He’s mad, and my handkerchief is still in his hand.

The young man must sense my increasing discomfort, because he lowers his head. Once free from his dark gaze, I slowly exhale a breath I did not realise I was holding. The stranger absently traces the pink flowers embroidered on Grandmother’s handkerchief with his thumb.

“This is very fine and delicate work. The person who made it is very talented. Were you the one who embroidered this cloth ?” he asks.

“I– no, it is very old. It belonged to my grandmother, and to her own ancestors before that,” I finally admit.

“Then it must be very dear to you ?”

“It is,” I simply say.

“Then I’ll give it back. Here,” he says, extending his own arm, the cloth in his hand. 

He has nice hands. They are not very big, and they are more calloused than mine, but he has long and slender fingers. His nails are clean and clipped short. He’s wearing several bracelets, some of them made out of colourful threads knotted together, and some thin circles of golden metal that glint in the late afternoon sunlight. None of my people wear jewellery, or any decorative adornments for that matter. Showcasing one’s beauty is to bask in vanity, and the Holy One does not like vanity.

I frown when I notice tiny markings on the arm he’s extended towards me. Scars ? No, not scars. It’s a tattoo. A tattoo made with white ink and barely visible on his skin despite his tan. Fascinated, I let my eyes run along the length of his arm. The patterns and symbols extend from the back of his hand to the crook of his neck, swirling and intertwining delicately around his wrist and his elbow. I stop staring when I hear the man clear his throat. I close my eyes and chastise myself. I can almost hear Mother and her stern voice at the back of my head. Ogling a man – an impure heretic – like that, you should be ashamed !

“Thank you,” I finally whisper, finding nothing else to say. Our arms are both extended, as if waiting for the other to cave in and get closer first. In the end, eager for this conversation to end, I sigh and take the handkerchief in his hand, my fingers brushing his for the shortest of moments.

Time seems to slow and speed up at the same time, and I feel slightly nauseous. I close my eyes, overwhelmed, as sound surrounds me, making my ears ring painfully. Why is the world so loud all of a sudden ? After the first few seconds, I get used to the noise and notice a voice in the chaos of sounds. Sometimes, it laughs, the laugh of a young girl, so clear and soft, and sometimes, it sings songs I have never heard before. Several other similar voices then join the first one in a chorus of melodies, and I think I can hear them speak to each other. Some are surprised and some are amused, and I hear them whispering faintly about someone they call “the foreigner”.

When I feel like my heart is beating at a normal pace again, I open my eyes to find myself in a place I have never seen before. Where am I ? Why am I here and how did I get there ? I do not know this place. Trees surround me, casting gentle shadows on the water I find myself standing in. Looking around, I see I am in a forest, although I have never ventured out of the village. I do not know how to swim, yet I am waist-deep in the water of a small lake, wet and shivering. I’m cold. The voices are gone now, barring one ; the chuckle of a man coming from behind me. I turn around and raise my head. After a few moments of blur, my eyes finally focus on the silhouette before me.

The heretic stands on a big rock on the shore, dry and dressed in the same tunic I saw earlier, albeit in a different colour. It is only long enough to reach the middle of his thighs, showing off long but muscled legs. He is barefoot, and he is still chuckling – is he laughing at me ?

I should feel outraged, and angry, that he is allowing himself to be so familiar with me – we have only met for the first time today after all – but somehow, the only feeling I can muster is mild annoyance. I give him a dark glare, and I find myself speaking his name with a scolding tone. I can not quite make out what name ; unable to control my lips or hear the words coming out of my own mouth. I feel like an actress in the middle of performing a play that already has a set ending. At the sound of his name, the man stops laughing and apologises. He looks around, glaring and I find myself doing the same. There is nobody but us here.

Then his gaze is back on me and I feel his eyes slowly slide down from my eyes, to my neck, to my chest, and I wonder for a moment what he is looking at. Then I check my reflection in the water.

I am dressed entirely in white, in my ceremonial clothes, wet from head to toe ; the weight of the water has pulled my kiva off from my shoulders, leaving them almost naked. My dress is drenched, and has become transparent under the effect of the water. My lower body is thankfully still under the water line, but my neck, chest and belly are fully visible. I gasp in shock, immediately crossing my arms over my chest so I feel less exposed ; so the man before me is not able to steal glances at my body more than he already has.

My reaction seems to wake him up from a trance, and both his cheeks and mine start turning red. At least he seems to feel ashamed of his staring, of making me uncomfortable. As he starts to open his mouth and apologise, I blink, and the moment I next open my eyes, I am back at the stall, in the middle of my village. The young man is still before me, but he has taken a few steps back, clutching his tattooed hand as if the contact has burned him. His mouth is open in shock, and though I can not see myself, I can guess he is mirroring my own expression.

I clutch my handkerchief in my hand. And then panic sets in.

“I- what just happened ? Was I dreaming wide awake ?” I ask, more to myself than to the stunned foreigner before me. What sort of spell has he bewitched me with ? Was this dream a trick from the evil spirits Mother is so scared of ?

The man raises his hands before himself, obviously trying to defuse the situation but it does nothing to reduce my anxiety. I take a few steps back.

“I– I must go now. There is still much to do,” I say, on the edge of panicking. My eyes can only stare at nothing, unfocused, as I try to register what happened in the dream, and how real everything felt.

“Listen, I didn't mean… I didn't mean to– to show you anything,” he stuttered. “Don't be scared, no please–”

But I’m already running past the passersby and away from him, my dress balled up in my arms and my handkerchief tightly grasped in my fist, as I try to hold back confused tears. My tiny world feels like it has collided with something much, much bigger. Something unknown. Something frightening.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur. 

I see but I am not looking, I hear but I am not listening. I feel like I am wearing someone else's skin.

I keep moving, but it's just habits, as if my movements are controlled by some puppeteer.

Soon my family comes home. They change into their ceremonial clothes, and Mother does my hair again, pulling and twisting the tresses until they are shaped to her liking. My head is throbbing, but I do not feel the pain.

The sun is setting when I finally take my place in the line of maidens who are going to be subjected to the Prayer. I recite the oath that I have learned by heart under Mother’s supervision ; I do not stutter, and the words come out clean and well-spoken, but I feel empty. I am given a bag of provisions, that contains the only things I will be given to eat for the next seven sunrises.

As the crowd celebrates all around us, I feel the weight of someone’s gaze on me. I follow it to find the foreigner staring from a distance, unmoving as the rest of his people pack up their belongings as they prepare to leave. Tomorrow they will be long gone, and I will have forgotten all about what I saw earlier, too engrossed in prayer to care. However, today, my memories of the dream are still too fresh in my mind, and I find my lips softly mouthing the name I spoke in the lake. This time, although the crowd around me is loud and excited in celebration, I can clearly hear what is coming out of my mouth. “Jongdae,” I speak, looking at him. I have never heard of this name. From afar, his eyes seem to widen, but he does not move. We watch each other for a few more moments. He looks sad. I hope this time I am not mirroring his expression.

I am the last one to be led to the Sanctuary. It is near the entry of the village, as it was the first structure that was built here. The Prayer room that has been assigned to me is located in a corner of the building at the very end of a long hallway. I step in, and look around. The wooden walls of my room are thinner than I thought they would be. There is an altar, but no bed, as I am not expected to get much rest. Two giant eyes are painted on the wall, dark and foreboding. They, too, stare at me, intense and intimidating. The space is so small, no matter where I am, I feel seen. Vulnerable. A chill courses through my body when I hear the opening of the room being sealed shut with nails that will only be removed once the Prayer has ended.

First, I do not know what to do. I stand, as if paralysed, in the middle of the room for a long moment. Then I remember Mother, and I remember my oath. I must pray now. I lower the bag of provisions to the ground and kneel on the hard floor in front of the altar. Mother has told me what to say as the opening of a Prayer. We have recited it, again and again.

Forgive me, my Holy One, for my sins. I am here to confess and earn your forgiveness.

Yet, somehow, the words that come out of my mouth are different. More honest.

“Forgive me, my Holy One, for I am not quite sure what to say.” Then I start praying, whispering the words under my breath.

For a moment, I pray for my family. For Father's health, for Mother’s peace of mind, for Luan’s happy spirits to remain and for Adem’s soul to rest in peace.

Then I start praying for my village, and for my community. I pray for peace, for a good harvest and for a mild winter. Talking about winter makes me realise the night has fallen. I shiver and wrap my kiva tighter around me in hope of keeping some warmth.

When time comes to confess my sins, I think back to that moment in the forest ; of the evil spirits that possessed my mind and made me imagine this unholy scene of me almost bare in front of a man. I am ashamed, but I am not sure this vision was my own doing. Do I need to confess if it was not my fault ? In the end, I decide to keep my mouth shut about this event and instead to ask for forgiveness for untying my hair last night.

After that, I realise I have nothing more to say. I try to think, but nothing comes to my mind. As I search for something to pray about, I sit with my back against the wall opposite from the altar. Instead of looking at His eyes, I start looking at my hands. Grandmother’s handkerchief is tied around my wrist, the only touch of colour in my entirely white outfit, and I start thinking of the foreigner.

This dream was not my fault, I am sure of that. Otherwise, why would he have apologised ? The look in his eyes makes me think that he might have known what was going on. Does he know what I have imagined ? Or worse – has he seen the things that I have seen ?

And this place, what was it ? Where was it ? Never would I have dived into water without knowing how deep it was first. Did he push me ? Why would someone do that ?

The more I think about the events of the afternoon, the more I realise my fright is turning to curiosity. Mother said it is not right to be curious, that I must wait for our Holy One to provide the answers. Like a poison, it runs slowly through one’s veins and takes over the mind. It pushes people to do things they would not normally do. Then I realise something else : in this room where I am alone with the Holy One, Mother can not reach. What she does not know, can not upset her.

In between the quiet of prayers, I hear people outside my room, one of which I recognise as the village chief. However, the voices are not coming from inside the Sanctuary ; this building is sacred and not a place for gossip. Instead, the voices come from beyond the wall that is directly to my right, which means they are standing outside the village. The chief is speaking to several people,but I can not make out what they are talking about, nor do I recognise any of the voices he is conversing with ; not until I hear a familiar voice, strong, powerful, and slightly accented, start thanking my leader.

“I would thank you a thousand times if I could, village chief. Our provisions were running low for the rest of our trip and it was urgent we exchanged some of our belongings for food and money. I know you do not welcome strangers often within the walls of your village, and for your generosity I will forever be grateful.”

Jongdae ? He must be leaving the village with his people now.

“You are very welcome,” my leader says, seemingly pleased by the compliments. “Had today been any other day, you would have been quite the sensation. I hope you got what you wanted, for as gracious as I am, I will not be able to let you in the village tomorrow,” he grumbles.

The young foreigner hardly waits a second before replying, probably louder than one should be during a private conversation.

“This is no problem, my community is already grateful for your help. We are going to stay a few more days in the small clearing we saw in the forest, only long enough to allow us to hunt and replenish our provisions.”

They exchange a few more words after that, but I am not focused on their conversation anymore. I simply stare at the painted eyes on the wall.

“What do you think ? What should I do now ?” I wonder out loud, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

Before the dream, I would have listened to Mother and stayed put. I would have prayed about anything and everything, I would have confessed my sins.

But I can not help but feel like something important occurred this afternoon. Who is this man, and who are these people ? Is he working with the evil spirits to plant seeds of doubt in the minds of innocent young women ? And if so, why did he apologise to me ? I have to know what happened, I have to know if he saw the same vision I did, and if so how was it possible ?

Today, my tiny world has collided with something bigger, much bigger than anything I could have ever envisioned. But this time, I am not frightened anymore. I will find this foreigner, and defend myself and my honour. I am in need of answers, and I know there is only one way to get them.

I must leave the village.

[writingforcuteppl]

In The Stars

PAIRING: Portgas D. Ace x Reader

SUMMARY: “Now you’re in the stars, and six feet never felt so far. Here I am alone, between the heavens and the embers.”

GENRE: Angst

WARNINGS: Established relationship. Mentions of death. Swearing. SPOILERS!

WORD COUNT: 1k words

“Y/n, please, just come back to the village. You need to rest.” Marco was worried.

It’s been over a month after Ace’s death, and you don’t even dare to move from his grave. There have been times when Marco had to pick you up from the ground since that was the only way he was able to at least make you eat.

But at this point, he doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s tried everything, but you just keep coming back here.

“Just ten more minutes. I promise”

“We both know that’s a lie. You cannot keep doing this to yourself.”

“I just… I can’t…” This month, you’ve been silent. Speaking just when it’s strictly necessary. Not because you don’t want to, but because every time you dare to talk, you start to feel a lump in your throat. And even having a normal conversation becomes harder.

“He wouldn’t like-”

“Stop. He’s not… here…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the last word. Saying it would make it a reality, and you still couldn’t accept the fact that he was gone forever.

“You can't keep doing this. Coming here daily, sneaking out at night, just to return here. If you keep doing this, not sleeping, not eating well, you will end up dying.” you wanted to laugh at his comment. Marco used to be one of the most reckless people you knew in your entire life, and here he was, worried that you may die. 

“Don’t you think that’s… a little bit of an exaggeration?” You chuckled and tried your best to show him you could improve if you wanted.

“Don’t you even try to lie to me. Did you forget I’ve known you for as long as I’ve known Ace?” you smiled at his comment, but that smile quickly faded. Pain started to go through your chest. He was right. This wasn’t healthy anymore. You weren’t fine.

But how could you even be fine after losing the love of your life, your partner in crime? There were so many thoughts going through your head right now. Why was life unfair? Why couldn't he just run? You preferred that he was well and alive and not with you instead of him being dead for a million different reasons. It would be just better like that. At least you could live in hopes of seeing him again. The mere thought of not being able to see his beautiful eyes and pretty smile, not being able to hear his voice, and not being able to hug him ever again was heartbreaking.

You didn’t even realize when Marco sat next to you until you heard his voice way closer than before.

“I miss him too. I’ve been reliving the moment everything unfolded over and over again. Maybe I was able to do something. Maybe if I just-” Marco choked in his saliva. He was just as distraught as you were.

“You should also stop doing that to yourself, Marco'' you managed to say as tears rolled down your cheeks. The thought of living when Ace wasn’t with you anymore seemed horrible. And it looks like Marco was also beating himself up for that.

“He would be so mad at us for being like this. He would definitely tell us to stop being such crybabies,” Marco said as he smiled.

You covered your face with your hands as more tears started to fall. Fuck. How were you supposed to move on from him? Is it even possible to move on from losing someone who meant the world to you? Not only you but someone who was so important to so many people? Were you going to be able to live the rest of your life when everyone knew who Ace was? And maybe, just maybe, knowing someone could bring him up at any given moment?

“I just want to let you know I don’t think you are to blame for even something in this whole situation. You shouldn’t be beating yourself up for something that I know was his decision, Marco.” this was the first sentence you managed to say without being out of breath.

“I know, but god, he was so reckless. He just ugh…” Marco seemed tired. It was the first time you paid attention to him. These huge bags were under his eyes, and his eyes were irritated. 

“I know I can’t live like this forever. It’s just… hard, you know? Yeah, having a pirate life always meant living at risk, but I’ve always thought we would have more time with him.” Finally, your feelings and thoughts that have been eating you alive for the past month were seeing the light of day. And you knew Marco may also be feeling just as you were, with a hole in your chest. It is as if someone took the most important thing in your life. Marco wrapped one of his arms around your upper back, seeking to give you some comfort. At the end of the day, both of you were mourning the loss of someone who both of you appreciated and loved deeply. Who else would know the feeling of loss than your boyfriend’s best friend?

“It won’t be easy, for sure. But at least we got to meet someone like him. That’s the best thing. Don’t you think?” Marco sighed. He was glad to finally hear your feelings. For a reason, he thought you were blaming him, or he thought you had some resentment towards him. But he should’ve known better. You wouldn’t do that.

“I guess you’re right…”

“I’m not saying this for you to just magically get over this situation.” Somehow Marco was aware you wouldn’t like to hear the word “death,” and he wouldn’t fuck up the situation now that you were able to tell him how you were feeling, even if it’s just a little of the big waves of emotions he knows you’ve been experimenting. “But it will simply pass. And one day, you will be able to remember those moments you had with him with adoration, and you’re going to be thankful it happened.”

You stayed in silence as tears kept rolling from your cheeks. Marco was right; well, he was always right. But as for now, you weren’t ready to say goodbye to Ace just yet.

n a v i g a t i o n

[jellybeanium124]

Hello I'm a schengen zone resident and I love it! I cannot imagine what it would be like to have borders that are actually for keeping people in? I am young enough to not remember a time with closed borders in Europe. My parents remember it though, and they also only have bad things to say about borders. Europe isn't big. European countries aren't big. At least, not on American scales. And there are a lot of countries, some of them tiny, and a lot of goods and a lot of people constantly move between them. Economically, open borders have enabled an open European market that was beneficial for all countries in the schengen area.

And for the people? Some of us are mostly only affected if we choose to travel for a holiday (my most recent holiday had a drive through three countries and there wasn't a holdup at any borders, nobody searched my car etc). But for people living near borders? It is life-changing. There are towns and villages that had borders go right through them. You couldn't go visit your aunt or go to the bakery down your street without going over a border, which might involve fun stuff like being searched for weapons or smuggling (or just, you know, generalised border authority discrimination and harassment). And on the way back, whee, you can experience this again!

No-one who lives near a border wants it back. Even among Europeans who don't live near a border, the overwhelming majority does not want to go back to having borders. Now some people live in one country and go to work on the other side of the border. They have friends and family across the border. Nationalism is a thing that exists as a right wing movement, but, the average person you meet on the street? Hates borders and never wants nothing to do with them. Because like, borders are so stupid?

Have you been in a border region? I have been to many. And at some point, you're sitting on a big rock on an alpine summit (the Alps are one single big border region, and as such also have a long history of wars being fought to move these borders a few kilometres here or there). So you're sitting there, admiring the view, and you compare your map, and look, that mountain with the white top over there? That's France! That one there? Switzerland! You are currently in Austria, but your hike will take you to a bit of Italy later. And you sit there, in this magnificent landscape, and you're hiking through it, and there are no borders. There is nothing there in the real world that would make a border. Borders are fake! I can see this mountain, this lake, this village full of people down there! They are not far from here, I can walk there in a bit, and the trees beside the roads willl be the same, and we're in the same landscape, and these are the same people. The trees and the mountains and the humans too have been here for millions of years (or at least tens of thousands for the people, but, semantics). You want to make up a line dividing something that has been one undivided Earth and tell me everything has to stay in this made up cage? Laughable. Ridiculous. These are my neighbours over there! They have been able to go over here and we have been able to go over there (again) for longer than I have been alive now, and nothing bad has happened.

There's a lot of right wing pushing in Europe right now to close borders again, primarily to make it harder to get into the schengen space by closing the "outside borders" more tightly, but also by reinstating border controls within states, born out of racism and fear of the "evil foreigners coming to destroy our culture, steal our jobs and reap the benefits of our social welfare system", and I hate it so much. People aren't like that! The people behind the border, any border, are people like you! Sure, some of them are bad, but some people inside your country are bad too, that's the nature of humanity, some people are dicks, and it doesn't mean all the people who are not dicks can't have freedom and nice things. Thirty years of open borders have proven that crime does not go up, that people travel more, that some people choose to move to a different country when that's easy enough, for economic reasons or for personal reasons, but that most Italians actually want to stay in Italy because that's their home and people tend to feel connected to their homes. And the same is true for people all over the world, I think. People like to travel and experience different places, some people like to go out into the wide wide world and make a life somewhere far away, but most of us actually prefer living in our home places most of the time, and the global problem is that through shit like colonialism and wars and exploitation and destruction of resources for a lot of people their homes aren't safe to live anymore. Those are the problems, and borders don't solve any of them, in fact they make them worse. So maybe politicians could stop building more fucking borders with more fucking border installations intended to hurt people, and instead use all this border enforcement money to make things suck less all over the world. Build wells and school and solar panels and pass out vaccines and medicine and teach our children more about "all of us humans" and less about "those guys over there behind the fence". The guys behind the fence are like you. The average person anywhere in the world is concerned with living their own lives, they want to have a safe home and enough to eat and to spend time with their friends and to watch their children grow up. They are not out to get you. Their living behind a made up line does not increase their likelihood to be out to get you. So we should work on getting rid of the made up line, and the inequalities between the different sides of it, and of the hate and the racisms and the prejudice.

It sounds like a ridiculous dream, when you say you want a whole borderless world, when you say you dream of a world that's peaceful and where people are safe and free. But 70 years ago, Europe's countries had just fought a big war. Everything was in ruins. My grandfather talked about growing up amongst ruins and fear. But only a few decades later, people were able to travel between the countries that had been at war, and move from one to the other to work and live there, and then they basically got rid of the borders. It can be done! There is proof, I'm living in it, and so are millions of others! And I'm not going to let right wing assholes take these freedoms away from me and everyone else here because they made a boogieman out of people who come here as victims of a deeply cruel and unjust world. No, I want the freedoms I have for everyone on this planet. Fuck wars and hate and borders. Walk down this hill and meet your neighbours at the other side of the made up line!

I think more politicians should go out hiking and see the real world and the real people who live in it.

x

[donfermin]

INTERVIEW WITH EL 10 DEL BARÇA

[Disclaimer: neither English nor Spanish is my first language, so there may be mistakes. This is not a word-for-word translation; there are some parts I have simplified. Some interviewer comments were also omitted because they were not important.]

Victor Palacios: First of all, how are you and how is the team currently doing?

Personally, I’m doing well and the dynamic of the team is great, we hope to continue like this on Sunday to get another three points.

VP: Girona is next. Are you surprised by Girona?

Yes, I think they are having a good season and they are a great team that will make it difficult for us.

VP: The team had a high during the matches against Porto and Atlético Madrid, which for me was the best of the season. I don’t know to what extent that slump before those two matches affected the team. Do you think that the press (us included) was too unfair to the team?

What we have to do is to leave what comes from the outside a little bit aside. We ourselves and the coach know how we work on a daily basis and the things we do well and also the things we do badly. We had a bad streak where we couldn’t play well, as the coach asked us to. And I think that now we have turned the situation around and we’re very happy.

Miguel Ángel Ruiz: I’m curious about many things because your career is like a dream of any footballer. You come from a village of just over 2000 people, El Campillo de Huelva, you go through a very hard stage because, as you’ve said on other occasions, you were physically smaller than the rest, and finally, when you hit your stride, you get the disappointment of being sent on a loan to Linares, but then you return to the first team. I don’t know if you are aware that you are fulfilling the dream of any child, of any person, especially Barça fans, of reaching the first team with such a beautiful story.

Yes, in the end, I’m lucky to be living what I’m living. It was my dream since I was a child, to be here at Barça. It is true that, as I have said on different occasions, I had some difficult moments, but I, like everyone else, have been able to overcome them and now I’m fulfilling my dream and I’m very happy.

MAR: Who is your best friend in the team and the one who has helped you the most?

My best friend is Gavi. I get along with everyone, but Gavi is like my brother.

MAR: Is he also the one who has helped you the most?

Yes, when I was having a hard time too, because he was there with me for most of my time at La Masia and also during pre-season, he helped me a little to integrate into the team.

VP: Is he animated now [referring to Gavi’s injury]?

Well… now he’s better.

VP: What I mean is if he’s mentally well enough to face the recovery.

Yes, he’s strong, he’s a warrior and at the beginning it was hard because they have taken away what he loves most and he’s not able to help us. But he’s very strong mentally and he’ll come back stronger, for sure.

MAR: Do you think Xavi should be our Ferguson?

In what sense?

MAR: You know that Ferguson is the longest-serving coach, namely in the sense that the project should be very long term and last as many years as possible.

I hope so, to be honest, because he [Xavi] was the one who trusted me and gave me the opportunity to be living what I am living now and I’m very happy.

VP: When you see that Xavi speaks so highly of you, that he has given you the opportunity, as you said, and you are obviously, everybody can see it, delivering on the pitch. When you hear one of the best, if not the best, midfielder that football has ever had talk about you, what comes to mind? Because I suppose you played as him in FIFA, of course.

Yes, I’ve seen him on television since I was a kid and it’s flattering that someone like the coach can think well of you. I try not to believe it too much, or else he will make me work even harder if I relax. I’ve always said that I’m grateful for the way he’s always treated me and I have to keep working hard and show that I can get more minutes.

VP: You are a Barça fan because of your uncle, right? Well, I’ve found out that you have a brother who is a Real Madrid fan. I guess you've already put him on the right path, haven't you?

That has already changed.

MAR: Luckily, you’ve been able to get him back on the right path and he’s regained his good taste in football. I wanted to ask you about President Laporta, who we often see coming to the dressing room to cheer the team up, but has he ever come down angry or to tell you off?

I think the President is a very positive person and very approachable. The truth is when he comes it is always for positive things and to give us strength and help us to move forward.

MAR: I also wanted to ask you about the issue of social media, which always generate a lot of controversy. There are good aspects, but also negative ones. Would you be in favour of avoiding controversy and everything that happens around Barça, as we have this toxic environment… Would you be in favour of banning social media for footballers?

Maybe, but almost all of us in the team don’t read the news. We try to avoid this, because for better or for worse, it’s not good. And banning them, well, everyone uses social media the way they want, but I don’t think it should be banned per se. Everyone wants to read what they want to read and that’s it. We try to stay away from that.

VP: In Madrid they say a lot of things, but why take them into account, right? But in Barcelona… That’s why I asked you one of the first questions about how all this affects the team. And you say that you don’t look at the press at all, you ignore it.

Yes, that’s true. At the end of day, we know what’s going on inside and what we are experiencing. Both when we need to improve and when things are going well, there is only us and that’s it.

VP: Is there a lot of bullshit being said, yes or no?

We don’t read them, but yes, some are nonsense.

MAR: Fermín, confess, have you ever seen Pedrerol’s Chiringuito (ed. El chiringuito de Jugones presented by Josep Pedrerol)?

Not now. When I was a kid, I used to think it was funny and all, but…

MAR: Xavi said in a press conference that the media and the environment were influencing the team, but you say you don’t read the press. In other words, you deny Xavi’s statement and it doesn’t influence you.

VP: Cancelo said no too.

It does not influence you, but it is true that in the end things reach you. But one thing is it reaches you and another if it influences you. I think the coach agreed, the coach said that outside Barça there is a toxic circle that is not good either.

VP: The pre-season goal against Real Madrid, what did you feel at that moment? Because I was shocked. It was early in the morning here and I think I woke my neighbours up with my scream.

I don’t even know what I felt, so imagine that.

MAR: Did any Real Madrid player say anything to you after the match?

Brahim? I think Brahim congratulated me or something like that. Well, they also lost, it’s unpleasant.

VP: What goal can you imagine scoring someday? That goal that makes you think “Oh shit, I hope it’s me”, right? With this shirt.

I don’t know. During the Champions League final, it would be great.

VP: Not bad.

MAR: Against Madrid.

Against Madrid would be better. If not, against whoever.

VP: A Champions League final, Barça-Real Madrid, with all due respect, I don’t want it. I’m really sorry Fermín, but I don’t want it.

MAR: I wouldn’t watch it. I don’t want to suffer. My heart can’t take it anymore. Listen, Fermín, you have always said that your idols are Messi, who has a similar story to yours because you were both small, and also Iniesta, right? But precisely because of that, how did you experience Messi’s departure? Did you cry at the final press conference?

I didn’t cry, but it was really sad. Everything I had experienced as a child with Barça was linked to Messi, Iniesta and Xavi and to see one of the greatest in history go… well, you can imagine.

MAR: The truth is that it was hard, we had a hard time. And who do you think was to blame for Messi’s departure?

I don’t know, to be honest. I have no idea. I don’t think there is anyone to blame. In the end, things happen and those who were there at the time know what happened and that’s all.

VP: This is a delicate question, but in the dressing room is there a feeling that, if it wasn’t for the refereeing, the team would have a lot more points? Well, maybe not a lot. A couple more points.

MAR: That is an understatement. Six or seven [points].

VP: They [the players] don’t control the situation, but I want to know…

It’s something we can’t control and that’s it.

MAR: Sure, but I want to know how the environment is.

Referees can make mistakes, just like us and that’s all. There is no need to think about it anymore. I wish they would always agree with us, but that’s the way it is.

MAR: Last season, Real Madrid would have won La Liga without the VAR. And their president, Florentino Pérez, has said through his puppet, Ancelotti, that VAR should not be used. What do you think, a 20-year-old kid used to technology, that we have the VAR technology and at the request of Real Madrid and because of Real Madrid’s interests, it is being used less and is harming the fairness of football?

Everyone is free to say what they want and whatever opinion they have, that’s all. I have nothing to say about this.

VP: Let’s talk about the great game against Shakhtar. It was a good night in the Champions League for you, as MVP, and you also scored a goal. I was at the stadium and I was freaking out. I posted several tweets saying “Fermín, what is this? What are you doing!” What a terrific night, wasn’t it?

Yes, it was. I think the team played a good game, although we suffered a bit at the end because Shakhtar is also a good team and they pushed us a bit at the end. But I think we played well and we had chances. I had two or three more chances to score and I’m sure I would have been a bit calmer at the end, but I think it was a great game.

VP: From the outside, it seems that we see everyone very easily and everyone has their quality, their stories, don’t they?

Of course. Every team nowadays can beat you and they are very well prepared physically and tactically. We are aware of that.

MAR: Which player from the current Real Madrid squad would you sign for Barça?

Nobody.

MAR: Nobody?

VP: What’s the matter? Don’t you believe it, Miguel Ángel?

MAR: They have good players as well. Not as good as ours, but…

The best players are here [at Barça].

MAR: That’s where I agree with you. I was going to ask you but I’m not sure anymore, as you said your best friend is Gavi. I was going to ask you who is better for you, Gavi or Bellingham?

Answer yourself. It’s obvious.

VP: I wanted to ask you about the time you went to play for Rafa Márquez [with Barça B] during a national team break, I think it was a game against Gimnàstic de Tarragona, if I’m not mistaken. Did you give an assist? [Fermín: No]Am I on the right track? And then you were sent off, wasn’t it?

Yes.

VP: I don’t know if you said to Xavi: “I’m going with the B team to help”, because it was a national team break. And I don’t know how you dealt with that moment, because then you continued to have opportunities with Xavi, everything went well. But at the time there was talk that you weren’t very…

It was a day to forget, to be honest. Because we had already agreed with Xavi that I was going to help the B team in that game, because in the end it was my team, it is my team. And nothing, I was excited because it was my debut too. It was the first official game I played with them and I don’t know, there were some decisions and they sent me off and it was a game to forget. On top of that we lost.

VP: Yes, there was a defeat. Listen, now I’m going to tell you a secret that I shouldn’t tell you. But who gave you the nickname Fermín Trujillo? [Fermín Trujillo is one of the main characters in La que se avecina played by actor Fernando Tejero]

I don’t know, everyone calls me that.

VP: But someone funny started it, for sure.

I think it was Abde [Ezzalzouli] or… well, Pedri. Pedri says it often: “Trujillo, Trujillo.”

VP: We have tried everything we could to get Fernando Tejero here today to greet you and surprise you. But eventually he’s got a lot of things to do and he couldn’t come. But it would’ve been great. Do you watch a lot La que se avecina?

Now I watch it more than before. When I’m a bit bored, I put it on for a while. But thank you very much.

MAR: Let’s talk about the Champions League. We are already in the quarter finals. Virtually first place [of the group], let’s hope so. Who are your favourites? Other than Barça, that hopefully will be at Wembley, who are your favourites this year?

I don’t have any favourite team other than Barça but there are very good teams, obviously: City, Madrid, Bayer, all of them. At Champions League level, they are all contenders.

VP: Final at Wembley. Barça against who?

It doesn’t matter, as long as we win. Give whoever it takes.

VP: You have a squad with which you can win and you are going for it, right? Do you think that the Champions League is in your mindset, a step beyond last year’s league?

Yes, obviously we aspire to win all the titles. That’s why we are Barça and we are obliged to fight for it and hopefully we can win everything. We trust in our squad, in the staff and hopefully it will happen.

MAR: Since you have spoken about Gavi, your best friend. I’d like to ask you how you feel about the fact that the Caverna Madridista and so on are calling Gavi, even though he’s a national team player, an aggressive player and treat him with such derogatory ways. Moreover, throughout its history, Madrid had some of the most aggressive players we know…

If that’s what they think [about Gavi], then they never saw him play. Or they don’t him. He has many qualities that are not often highlighted and he’s very important for the team.

MAR: When you were young, you know, we’ve seen Iniesta, he said he was a Madrid fan, he made a mistake, then he went too far and so on. You’ve always been a Barça fan since you were a little boy, of course. Why did you choose Barça? What did you like about Barça? Because, of course, in Catalonia it’s easy to be a Barça fan, but outside Catalonia it’s not easy at all, surrounded by madridistas. So, what made you become a Barça fan when you were young?

Mainly, because of my uncle, Juan Antonio, who is a huge culé. When I was a kid, he instilled it in me. I’ve always watched everything. Everything that is Barça. I’ve seen Messi, Iniesta, Xavi, Busquets, etc. I loved watching Barça and, since I was a kid, I had that love for Barça.

VP: Your favourite moment in Barça’s history, in the history you have lived through?

When there was the team I mentioned of Busquets, Xavi, Iniesta, Messi…

VP: But tell me a game, a game that made you say “I’m so excited, I can’t stand it anymore”.

The 5-1.

MAR: To Madrid?

Yes.

VP: That was with Valverde, wasn’t it, Miguel Ángel? I think it was with Valverde…

The one with Piqué, with the hand… That was 5-0.

MAR: Of course, that was with Mourinho. Anyway, I know that you don’t want to talk about referees and that it’s logical you don’t want to get into controversy, but I need to insist. I mean, we are competing in a league in which we have seen for the first time in history that they re-refereed a game last season, they even changed a report. We’ve seen Lewandowski get three games for touching his nose. Others go around punching people in the car parks and they don’t even get penalised. In short, we are unfortunately used to this. How does the team experience these things? How do the Barça players experience it from the inside?

It’s what I told you, isn’t it? These are things we can’t control and we don’t give them much importance. That’s all. We are only looking after our own, only at Barça, and that’s it. What’s outside is someone else’s matter.

VP: Do you like this interview thing? Because Gavi does a few, but I noticed that he likes the ball, playing football, killing himself for Barça and that’s fantastic, isn’t it? But you look comfortable. I don’t know if you like to be interviewed or not.

I think it’s something that is part of my profession and that’s it. When I have to do one, I’ll do it as well as I can. It’s not something I’m passionate about, nor do I dislike it.

VP: I think we have changed a lot, during all this time, and we saw it the other day with Aitana Bonmatí, your Barça Femení teammate, who replied to Cadena Cope after a match. Footballers now have such a power that they don’t even need to give interviews. One tweet and everything falls apart.

Yes, I did see that. Sometimes it’s normal that you reach the limit and you can reply and so on, but it’s better to isolate yourself and avoid problems.

[Introduction of the third host: Cerebro Culé (Mario)]

Cerebro Culé: First of all, you didn't want to get involved with the referees and I think that's normal, right? You talked about a bad streak. I’d like to ask you how much you think Barça loosing 7-8 starting players have had an influence. Because there are a lot of people who don’t value Barcelona’s game, while we’ve had so many absentees, and I’d like to know what your opinion is.

It's true that if affected us because they were very important players for us. I think that those of us who had the chance tried to give our best and on many occasions we did. And what went wrong we have tried to improve and now we are in a good dynamic and hopefully it will continue like that.

CC: Then you also said that your best friend is Gavi. You have defended Gavi over Bellingham, and you also don’t want to sign any Real Madrid player. The truth is that we culés love it. But aside from friendship, who do you think could be the leader of this Barça? From the outside we have the feeling that it could be Araujo or another player like Ter Stegen, but from inside the dressing room itself, who do you think could be the leader of this Barça? A Barça that, among other things, had lost some very important players in recent years.

I think that many important players have the ability to lead, as you said yourself. The captains, Robert, Sergi, Frenkie, Ronald, players who have more experience, can be the ones who can help us young players a little more. Well, Pedri sometimes seems like he’s not young and he’s already a leader, almost. I think almost all of them have the ability to lead the team.

CC: There’s one thing I’ve been thinking about for a long time. What goes through the head of a footballer who leaves Barcelona Atlètic and is loaned to Linares and in just a few months after his return he faces Real Madrid, he faces what is a Primera División team like Barça. On top of that scores a classic. It’s incredible, of course. What are your feelings? What goes through the head of a 20-year-old footballer when this happens to him? As I said, in just a few months.

I try to take it naturally. In the end, it’s what I have worked for and fought for since I was a child and I enjoy it day by day with my teammates who were my idols just a short time ago, and I try to take advantage of this situation and enjoy this experience, which is my dream.

VP: How are players like Lewandowski or Gündoğan in close proximity? Because I put myself in his [Fermín’s] situation and imagine going into a dressing room with guys, as we were talking about before, who he played as [in FIFA]. Incredible, right?

Yes, it impresses you. Obviously, they are world class players and it impresses you, but in the end, they are normal people, they are very good people and I have a good relationship with all of them, but yes, it really impresses you at the beginning.

VP: These are the people who support the young people when they go up.

Yes, always. They always try to help. Even if Lamine’s case is controversial, but everyone tries to help and especially those with more experience, perhaps like Robert or Gündo, in this case, who can help us young people a lot.

VP: What happens on the field stays on the field.

Yes.

MAR: Have you not been scolded by any veteran as happened to Lamine?

When they had to tell me something, they told me, obviously. That’s always good for improvement.

CC: It’s the last [question] I have prepared here, and I’d like you to describe yourself, Fermín as a player, because we have seen him many times in the box. I’d like to see him a little bit in Pedri’s position. How would you describe Fermín as a footballer and above all, what do you think you could improve on, what do you think you could bring to this Barça?

I think I am a player with good vision, ability to shoot, last pass. I am skilful. I’m a hard worker too, I consider myself a hard worker. And what I contribute? Maybe I can get into the second line, shoot from outside and just play my football. And when the coach decides, I try to contribute.

CC: And what is the limit for this Barça? For you, who are in it and live it day by day.

We have no limit. Never, but I believe we have a squad that can do important things and I am sure we will achieve them.

[Introduction of the fourth host: Martin Miñán]

Martin Miñán: I know you’ve been in the first team for a few months, but what do you think you’ve worked on maybe more with the coach, with the staff? I know it’s often said that they do personalised video work, improving an individual aspect or the understanding of the game, something that you’ve improved in these months.

In the end the coach has the Barça DNA, as they say, and from the youth system they prepare us to be here one day. It’s quite similar to what I’ve always been asked to do, but it’s true that every coach has his own nuances and the truth is that the coach has helped me a lot. In the end, he has been one of the best midfielders in the world and all I have to do is learn from him and everything he tells me is good for me.

MM: And I also wanted to ask you about the midfielders currently in the first team. Is there one that you look at in particular? That’s not to say that you don’t notice the others, but is there one that in training, during matches, that you noticed, that you copy some movements or something like that?

As you said, I look a lot at everyone, but maybe a little more at who plays in my position, like Pedri or Gavi, when he’s available. But I try to learn from everyone, Gündoğan, Frenkie. But maybe more at those who play a bit more forward, Pedri, Gavi, Joao Felix.

MM: Now that you are mentioning Joao Felix and that’s already the last question. If I may, last week we say you on his Instagram story, I think you were bringing him coffee, or tea, a hot drink, because you lost a bet. I don’t know if you can tell us what bet you lost with Joao and if there are any bets going on in the dressing room with any player right now.

We have a good relationship, we always look for fouls or finishes and so on, so if I lose, I need to make a cappuccino. And that day I lost and he recorded it.

MM: Thank you, Fermín, thank you for your time and I wish you success for the rest of the season and in particular for the three points on Sunday.

Thank you very much.

MAR: And we end the interview with a test we have prepared for Fermín.

VP: Very quick, very easy. Play, Nintendo or Xbox?

Play.

VP: A film?

Fast and Furious.

VP: A book?

I like Iniesta’s very much.

VP: A singer or a band?

Mike Towers.

VP: Do you like “El Barrio”? Since you are Andalusian?

Yes, very much so.

VP: I thought you were going to tell me “El Barrio”. Anyway, the title you dream of winning?

Anything right now, because it would be my first. But to win the Champions League would be terrific.

VP: Best moment at Barça?

Right now.

VP: The sports programme that you say, “Oh shit, I’d take this one off the television, I can’t stand it. Why do I have to watch this on television?”

I don’t watch TV much, really. When I watch TV, it’s often Netflix. I don’t know.

VP: Living in El Campillo or in the little flat in Barcelona?

In El Campillo.

VP: If you weren’t a footballer, would you be?

A physical trainer.

VP: And how is your Catalan? Is it okay?

Very good.

VP: Thank you very much, Fermín. What a pleasure to have you here.

Thank you very much.

[hydrangeyes]

Rogue ☁️🌩

So if you don't know, Yes this already existed, my old account was deleted (accident but I can tell I won't be getting it back), and am reposting my old x male reader works!

I don't know if I saved all of them but here is one that was saved to my AO3 account.

Edit: So shuffling through my docs It's been brought to my attention that wattpad (who I use as backup) Cut a lot of my fics in half??? anyway I'll be trying to fix that also

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

Missing male reader x Sun wukong

[P/s] : preferred scent

More angst than anything, wukong finds an old friend

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

You were meticulous when it came to your disappearance.

Faking death, check. Leaving no evidence that it could be fake, check. Running to the mortal world and starting a new life? Check.

You had it all down. Of course, you didn't stay in one place, fear that you would be found by immortals who lived there and were allied with the Jade emperor. It kept you on your toes until eventually you settled in an area that had more demons than immortals.

Of course you did your best to protect the humans living there asking each time to keep your existence a secret. It was the village turned cities big secret.

But of course, as time went, you knew he would find you. After all, you were living in his current second home.

Your own home was a decent if small apartment in a complex around the more elderly, those who remember who you was. Even a porch where you had a garden going, giving anything extra to locals.

You theorize that's how wukong found you. Someone let something slip, because there was no other reason for him to suddenly be here, in your garden, nibbling on some strawberries that just grew fruit.

"You know, it's a little embarrassing that I didn't find you until now, old friend." Wukong drawls, eyes on you as you warily put down the basket in your arms.

"Don't be, I took....a lot of measures to not be found." You reply back, the air wasn't tense per sat but you knew better than to relax.

You heard about the uproar he made when he found out about your disappearance, and eventual statement of death. And you wish you could have sent him a message, but at the time you also knew wukong had a big mouth.

"Yeah. Funny how that is. Want to tell me exactly why? See, you're 'disappearance', had me fooled. Not even your scent left behind. So either this was all a game or you're a demon using my friends' face."

You see the simian getting angrier as he talked, and letting out a deep sigh you move to sir next to him, relaxing the wards you had on yourself to mask your natural scent and aura.

The familiar smell of [p/s] and a soft golden glow came to wukong's senses. While that eased something in him that wanted to fight whoever was using your face, another grew disheartened that. What ever happened while he was gone, forced you to go into hiding even from him.

"It's nothing you did, wukong... I just didn't want the emperor to send you to retrieve me if I did just leave. I needed to make sure no one would even think too." You began, hands fiddling together as tou looked down at them.

"My father had found a warrior for me to marry. It...it was not up to discussion if I wanted to be wed or not, just that this would open up a good trade."

You grimace hearing his tail smack the banister behind you two, in what you guess was surprise.

"When I went to plead against the union, things spiraled out of control. And the emperor was called to step in." You lean back to look at the sky.

"I meet my fiancé. And I hated our wedding, hated our...union. it was loveless and I was nothing more than a new toy in his collection." Rubbing the back of your neck you grimace harder.

"I snapped and everything went red.... I don't even know if i....if he's...."

"So you ran." Wukong speaks up making you flinch and zone back in to the now. You look over to him, seeing the fury being held back in his eyes.

"N/n... I don't care what the emperor would have said, I would be there for you." He starts and gently takes your hand in his.

"You are my my dear friend. I would come to you even if it's just to give you the TV remote in the same room." This made you left out a soft snort, noticing now just how much you are trembling.

"Anything N/n. In fact the only thing stopping me from going up there to make sure that bastard is gone and tearing your father into shreds, is that I don't want to leave your side."

"Please don't do that."

"Mmm I'll think about it."

With that you both quiet down as you wait for your nerves to calm down, moving to leaning your head against his shoulder.

"It was ages ago, and it's not like it was all awful. I guess I just couldn't get over that I wanted it to be-" you stop yourself quickly. Nope nuh uh. Nope.

You move back feeling your cheeks warm, as wukong eyes you curiously, tail moving to wrap around your waist to keep you close. Like old times.

"Wanted it to be?" He asks poking your arm and sides getting a chuckle from you, "nuh uh no way, that's a secret I'm keeping to myself. Anyway," Quickly wanting to change the subject now that you spilled your old guts.

"What have you been up too? It gets so noisy downtown and occasionally I hear about some new monkey kid???"

You question leaning back on him and letting him adjust you so that you both were properly cuddling. "I didnt know you had a kid~ I always knew you and macaque wanted-"

Wukong sputters and blushes a deep red. "N/n, mk is not our biological kid!"

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

Ending this hereeeeeee, lol

Turned out more angst than fluff with a dash of shadowpeach (which may as well be in most of these)

[tranakin-skywalker]

Wait you're making a fic for your torgruta au?? Tell me more please

Yeah, I've been thinking about writing a fic about it for a while now. Most likely it's going to be a series of oneshots so I can hop around to different parts of the story I find interesting.

A lot of the ideas are coming from the hyena discord, so I can't claim them as my own. But they are just too good to pass up. Like togruta making infrasound with their montrals and constantly projecting their moods. So when Anakin first gets to the Temple he's constantly screaming for him mom at a pitch that only other togruta can hear.

I've decided that that's actually how he first meets Ahsoka. She hears him making his lost, scared, where's mom, where's family sounds and seeks him out to comfort him. Ahsoka would be about four here, and would have left Shili recently enough that she could still remember what those noises mean, even if Tatooine togruta sound different from Shili togruta. (to a Shili tog Anakin's distressed noises sound like he's being maimed, but that's just because of the generational trauma and general awfulness of being a togruta on Tatooine. What they would think of the vocalizations he makes when actually being maimed we will not think about)

So Anakin and Ahsoka end up growing up together right from the start, and the main reason Anakin is so insistent on being knighted early is so that Ahsoka can be his padawan. It's a private thought he has to himself at first, but as Ahsoka gets older and no masters are showing any interest in taking her on she starts to panic. Anakin tells her that he'll just have to get knighted before she ages out so that he can be her master. And then the Clone War starts and he realizes that keeping his promise means bringing her onto the battlefield with him where she could die and he's not sure if he'll be enough to keep her alive :)

Because Shmi is a togruta too she does not get bought by Cleigg Lars. I am just. not dealing with the implications of that. (Listen. I want to read Shmi's marriage to him as a good thing, but I have a very hard time doing that.)

Now, there's actually a comic (Legands, I think, not Disney canon) where Gardulla goes to Watto and tries to buy Anakin back after he wins the Boonta Eve Classic. So have some fun thoughts about what would have happened to Anakin if he hadn't gone with Qui-Gon.

In the fic, Gardulla goes to buy Anakin but of course he left with the Jedi, so Gardulla decides she'll take Shmi as payment for Watto's debts. After all, if Shmi already had one child who turned out to be a talented podracer, well, she might have more. Hence the younger sibling that comes about shortly after Anakin leaves.

When Anakin goes back to Tatooine because of the nightmares about his mom he finds out that Watto sold his mom back to Gardulla and has to go to her to buy his mom's freedom. Which would be traumatic, on multiple levels. Anakin finds out that a month before he arrived, Shmi tried to escape with the sister Anakin didn't know he had, and Gardulla had their chips detonated. Gardulla even gives him their triggered remotes as proof.

(Of course unbeknownst to Anakin, Shmi and the sister survived and are living with a village of other escaped togruta.)

A lot of canon still happens the same, including Anakin's fall, Order 66, Mustafar, etc. But when Bail Organa sees Ahsoka at Padme's funeral he tells her that he can take her to a mutual friend of theirs. Ahsoka thinks (hopes) it's Anakin at first, and is devastated when she realizes it's Obi-Wan (and then hates herself for feeling disappointment because she should be happy that Obi-Wan is still alive, but he's not Anakin, and this means that Anakin must be dead).

There's no Lars family and the Organas would have a harder time explaining a non-human daughter, so Ahsoka and Obi-Wan end up taking care of the twins. They eventually find their way to Tatooine because it's out of the Empire's notice and, well, because it's a connection to Anakin (Ahsoka's trying to hold onto anything she can that connects her to her brother and Obi-Wan is in his self-harming phase.)

And it's there that they eventually run into a little community of togruta and a woman who looks suspiciously like Anakin who has the last name Skywalker. But hey, Shmi gets to meet her grandkids at least. Even if it happens at the same time that she finds out that son she thought she'd sent away to a better life and hasn't seen in 13 years is dead. (Obi-Wan sees how much Anakin's death destroys Shmi and decides to never, ever tell her what he became. Vader will be his burden and it's a secret he will take to his grave. Anakin Vader is dead, and he'll save them from ever finding out how it really happened)

Of course, 15 years later Ahsoka goes to rescue some rebels from a walking death omen in black when she realizes the infrasound calls he's shrieking out of his mangled montrals is devastatingly familiar.