#how to draw a frog in easy steps

[thesketcherat]

Frog 🐸 Drawing in easy steps #thesketcher #drawing #shorts Full video : https://youtu.be/uZ5f-sOcc0Q Welcome to our channel! In this step-by-step tutorial, we will guide you on how to draw a realistic frog using pencil sketching techniques. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced artist, this video will help you create a stunning frog drawing.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

HI POOKIE

can i request a fic with jason and reader who is supergirl (clark’s daughter) and just then navigating their relationship

i need jason todd in my room at 1 am

Old Friends

Jason Todd x Supergirl!Reader

wc: 2.4 K summary: You meet Jason again after not seeing each other for several years. warnings: fluff? no y/n used a/n: sorry for the long wait, this came out a little longer than usual. I think they would be too shy to admit anything to each other, but they would be cute dou. enjoy!!!

When Jason first met Superman, he didn‘t expect to see another girl his age right beside the man of steel. He was immediately awestruck, realising that you are his daughter, and got straight up flustered when your eyes met briefly.

The younger boy, back then all chirpy and small, really tried his best to impress you in any way possible.

You can pick up a couch without a sweat? He can pick up two… then have his arms hurt for the next few days.

You like frogs? He will fetch and pick up any kinds of frogs he can find and give them to you. Batman definitely scolds him for getting his suit dirty, but Jason couldn‘t care less. You were happy about the things he did, and you both soon grew into a good team on missions. Although those missions didn‘t occur often, you both tried to make the most of it. Playing catch with each other during breaks, drawing together silly things during briefings and exchanging notes, and whispering a small gossip session with the other while no one pays attention to you.

It was all fun and easy with him. Until you couldn‘t go on missions anymore because you had to work on other things, but you promised to get the next one with him as soon as possible. That stretched and stretched for months until it got into years of no missions together.

You are well in your teens now, almost an adult, and you haven‘t heard from Jason at all. It‘s sad and shameful to admit, but you almost forgot the way he looks.

Many years have gone by, being in a new suit and being taller having generally changed over the years. You are an adult now, actually in your twenties, and you are more than excited to see what changed for Jason as well. Since you lived in Metropolis all the time, you didn‘t bother to check what happened with the Bats, assuming everything probably is pretty much the same. Since you are still Supergirl and work together with Superman almost all the time, you are assuming it‘s probably the same with them.

Now that you are flying back to Gotham with your dad, there‘s a lot of thoughts swimming in your head. What if he can‘t even remember you? Is there something Calrk hasn‘t told you yet, and this is actually a bad surprise of his? What if something is incredibly wrong and something bad happened? Is this just another stupid mission?

Coming back to that musty city was nostalgic. With a heavy sigh you‘ve been holding in for, you finally land on the ground.

»You okay? Something bothering you?«

Clark steps beside you and rests his hand on your shoulder, a reassuring weight.

»Why are we here? Like, actually.«

Your dad purses his lips together. You feel the air shift around you, making you even more suspicious.

»We‘re visiting Uncle Batman, remember?«

»Yeah, but why? Did something happen?«

Clark starts walking, and you follow.

»No, nothing really happened. At least nothing that we have to take care of. Just visiting a friend.«

Great, that sounds even more suspicious. After another sigh of yours, you just silently follow him and wait for whatever surprise will get you today.

Even seeing the Wayne Manor feels nostalgic to you. Just looking and approaching the big house is awaking memories in your brain— how you used to chase Jason in the cave and accidentally knock over some vase. Are there still random and useless things in the cave, or did they finally get rid of them?

As usual, you sneaked into the entrance with your dad and managed to get past Alfred without getting caught. Well, at least it seemed like he didn‘t notice you both, but there‘s also a chance he did.

But stepping inside the cave again after so many years felt almost illegal. Sure, it felt welcoming too, but… it feels way more emtpy now. Probably because Batman isn‘t in here yet.

Speaking of the bat, he enters just moments later, seemingly out of nowhere. Superman greets him almost immediately with his usual bright smile, approaching him with a few strides. Just like the earlier days, Batman doesn‘t respond as much and simply gets straight to business.

»Why are you here, Superman? And why is your daughter her as well?«

Wow, it didn‘t even seem like he noticed you in the first place… are you getting impressed by Batman again?

»Oh, just visiting. You know, as good friends do?«

»We are friends?« Batman counters, earning a hearty chuckle from Superman after realising it was indeed just a sarcastic remark. That simple remark feels reassuring, though, almost comforting with how familiar it feels like. It was like a small sign that everything is okay, after all. Just why did Clark need to act so suspicious in the first place?

You didn‘t even notice someone else coming into the cave, being too busy looking around the artefacts that mostly seem to be the same as in the past.

»And you are the daughter of Superman?«

You turn your attention away from the cars in the garage and look at the person that spoke up. Huh… you expected someone else. Instead, there stands Robin.

Robin. In small. Right in front of you. And… he is grumpy?

Is this why you are here? Jason is stuck in his ten-year-old body?

»Oh… yeah, I am.«

Confusion is written all over your face, and you glance back to your dads. Just what is happening here…

»Father told me you used to work together with Jason.«

Silence falls over the two of you. The way this boy talks doesn‘t fit Jason at all. And it‘s clear that this isn‘t Jason.

»Sorry… who are you?«

You finally address the big elephant in the room, still being clueless and confused about the situation.

But so does Robin. He even looks taken aback by the fact that you don‘t know him. Another brief of silence falls over you two before you both call for your dads at the same time.

»Father!«

»Dad!«

Robin‘s glaring at you, and he is glaring at you at the same time. Batman and Superman look over you both, not having noticed any of your exchange before.

It turns out this Robin is actually Damian. He was upset when his father just revealed his identity like that, but it was necessary for you to understand the situation. Shortly after, you also found out about Tim. The Robin after Jason.

So, that leaves for the question: Where is Jason? Is he even still Robin? Why did he retire?

But you don‘t risk asking about that, not wanting to make the situation even more confusing or awkward. Also because you‘ve always been a little scared to ask Batman questions or generally talk to him about more personal stuff.

Eventually, after discussing some more things, it turns out you are here to help them out on a mission. It starts tonight and you are back on track again. Just focusing on the current task and processing the information you get for it.

Arriving at the scene as talked about, you see Batman defeating some of the goons, and that is your call to join him. Superman is also doing the same thing, all the while Damian is getting more information from the bad guys. It‘s all going well as usual, until a bigger threat appears. It knocks you off, making you land some feet away. Turns out, a bigger Villian just arrived and decided to join in on the chaos that‘s already happening.

Due to the fall, it‘s difficult to breathe for a few seconds before you regain yourself and get back on your feet. Charging at the Villian, you put all your anger out on him, beating that random guy in all his weak spots.

You don‘t notice the sound of an engine approaching the scene, too busy handling the bigger guy at the moment.

With a few final punches, he looks like he is about to release his last breath, and that‘s when you decide it‘s enough. Releasing your grip on him, you take a step away and catch your breath.

»Man, I really wanted to handle him. You just stole my job.«

A deeper, distorted voice sounds from behind you, making you turn around quickly. The bigger man just stands there, his red helmet stricking out like nothing else. His shining slits stare right at you, almost making you step back away from him.

Even when he looks rather intimidating, he won‘t make a move on you. And no one even fights him.

»Well, your fault for arriving late.«

You retort back with a small shrug, trying to handle the surprise with some sarcasm. It works, at least you think so. He doesn‘t say anything, only making a quieter huff sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle.

»My bike is pretty fast; I don‘t know what you are talking about.«

He shrugs as well and approaches you now. For your luck, Superman also arrives by your side at the same time, feeling rather tense for some reason.

Batman eventually appears beside the strange man too, with Damian standing behind a few steps. It‘s quiet for a few seconds before Batman updates everyone on the status of the goons and operation, glad to hear it all went successful. Superman is reluctant to leave your side but is forced to eventually, having to discuss some more things with Batman in private.

For whatever reason, that Red Helmet is still standing on the same spot and stares at you.

»And, how should I call you?« Finally, you speak up and want to hear some answers, still having no clue why he is here.

»Red Hood.«

You nod in response, letting that sink in. His short answer didn‘t leave you satisfied though, but you are also slightly unsure of what you should even ask in the first place.

»So, Supergirl, huh? What made you come to Gotham again?«

The distorted voice won‘t give away any emotions, but you swear there is a hint of bitterness.

Finally, before you could answer him, the two older men arrive back to the both of you and seem less tense than before. You feel less awkward now that your dad is by your side again, being still curious about Red Hood, though.

A few more things are briefly discussed before Batman turns to Red Hood, speaking up more casually.

»Are you joining on family dinner this Sunday? Alfred‘s making his chocolate lava cakes.«

Once this question drops, your eyes almost pop out of your skull. Family dinner? Who is this guy? Are they just inviting random people to their manor these days?

Red Hood seems tense, staying quiet for a moment before he eventually answers.

»Just because Alfres makes lava cakes.«

He grumbles back more quietly, making Batman almost smirk.

You turn your attention to Clark beside you, silently begging for answers. He notices your helpless look and becomes sheepish.

»Oh! Uh… Jason is Red Hood. Forgot to tell you.« He whispers to you with a small smile, waiting for you to react. You pause, however, before you finally become more flabbergasted. It doesn‘t make sense at all.

Dinner at the manor was more chaotic than it used to be. With the added family members, it just seemed like a big family that secretly hates each other. The constant talking and insults between the boys are not lost on the both of you. In contrast to them, you just sit quietly together with your dad, watching the chaos erupt between the seven other bats. Besides Barabara and Cassandra, the rest seems to be pretty lively.

One thing you can‘t ignore is the way Jason‘s eyes seem to burn into you the whole time. He can‘t stop staring and looking at you with those intense eyes of his. You tried not to glance his way too much, but you did anyway. You noticed the green hint in his blue eyes. Something you never noticed before. Something else you noticed too is the way he became way more quiet. It‘s not the way it used to be. You really miss the small gossip sessions and exchanges of notes with him.

The dinner is served by Alfred, and you thank him like the rest, starting to eat peacefully. As if on command, the table also becomes way more quiet once everyone has their food and starts eating. You thought you would feel relieved about the silence, but now it almost seems awkward and strange that it‘s quiet.

»Stop breathing so loud, Drake.«

»I‘m not even sitting beside you!«

»Then why can I hear your breathing from up here?«

Damian seems to enjoy making Tim upset. That‘s one of the things you took note of. Also the visible tension between Tim and Jason. At least they don‘t insult each other, only catching glares aimed at Tim from your old friend.

Dick seems to be happy to be here. Especially since you and Superman are there too. You know that the first Robin and your father worked some times as well, having talked and played with him when you didn‘t have your powers yet. He felt like a big brother for you, having played Barbie with him and also getting to have piggyback rides.

He eventually talks with your dad for most of the time, sharing a few smiles with you over the table. Bruce eventually joins in the dinner, not even trying to control the chaos but does give out warnings whenever one of them insults the other verbally.

Finally, after getting the overly delicious dessert, you can have some time to talk before you leave the manor.

As you stand in the hallway with your dad, who is currently still talking to Bruce, you decide to find Jason and talk. You find him beefing with Tim, but they quickly stop as soon as you step into view.

Tim walks away with a knowing smirk, telling him silently that he won this argument. Whatever it was, Jason is glaring daggers at him before he finally turns to you.

You both speak up at the same time, growing sheepish, and he gestures for you to speak first. You suggest exchanging numbers, which works better than you thought. After that‘s done, you finally get to ask your questions.

He doesn‘t really answer the more personal questions as casually as the others, but he tries. Turns out, Jason is still the sweet boy from the past. Whatever he had to go through really affected him, and you don‘t pry on it, figuring it will come with time.

Saying goodbye again is way more painful. You don‘t know when you will meet again, so you make a pinky promise to meet again on a Sunday.

←MASTERLIST

[saradika]

— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

[franticbindings]

Doing some draft simulators for Bloomburrow, and I'm really appreciating how well they've subtly interwoven synergy between all the different archetypes. There could be a fly in the ointment that shows up after people get more experience with the set but this really feels like a master class in designing a limited environment.

And I don't think that's more clearly demonstrated than with this common:

We've had cards just like this before, plenty of times, but never have I seen this design do so much work or have so much interplay with so many different draft strategies. In the past, if you're picking up your Elvish Visionary and drawing a card or saving another creature from a Pacifism then you're capital 'D' Doing It. There is so much more going on in this set though. (Also, being optional is innately a big step up from the Invasive Species of the past)

Obviously, re-use enters the battlefield effects. But several cards that aren't normally ETB effects are in this set. The common basic land ramp spell (Heaped Harvest), the common non-creature token maker (Carrot Cake), the common colorless land searching artifact (Fountainport Bell) and the common colorless "deal with any permanent for a lot of mana" artifact (Bumbleflower's Sharepot) all interact with this.

Also obviously, blue green cares about your stuff leaving the battlefield. This is the other obvious use.

There is a lot of play with Offspring. You can play your Offspring card early for cheap, then return it and recast it for full value later. You can return a less valuable offspring token and hold onto the better base creature if you've got a 'leaves' trigger. You can go full value and get more than one offspring token out of the same card.

Lots of the common enablers for other strategies are enters effects. Picking up your 2 drop that makes a food feels pretty good if you're in B/G and there is a common and uncommon creature that do that.

It makes it easy to trigger Expend - if you return something cheap you can cast it immediately and trigger Expend, or you can bounce something 4 or more to cast again later. Picking up Alania's Pathmaker in the late game to impulse draw a card and trigger any Expend effects is going to feel so good!

It even targets to trigger valiant, though this is pretty narrow since most of the valiant triggers are better if the creature is in play, but there are still 5 that it could make sense to do this. It's not impossible that you replay the creature and then can trigger valiant again in another way.

To come back to the first point, there being a bunch of non-creature etb effects (the Class enchantments also count for this) mean that if you're in U/G or G/R then the Red and Blue cards that care about casting non-creature spells (at their best in U/R) are stronger than they'd normally be out of their designated archetype. Caring about "non-creature" instead of "instant or sorcery" on most of these cards is also a deliberate decision to make them play better outside of their dedicated archetype.

And lastly, of course, if you're out of lands in your hand then you can always return and replay a land and make this effectively cheaper. You might even get a surveil out of it.

There's a lot of stuff like this. I love that Polliwallop costing 4 but getting cheaper with frogs makes it best in frogs but means you might also be able to Expend 4 with one spell if you're in that archetype.

[maethegay]

Make up

A/n: I am no good at skincare, make up or fashion but I tried gang please forgive also this is way longer than I thought it was gonna be oops.

I grew up with two parents in the army and my two older brothers. We moved around a lot I never really made friends moving every few months or even years made it hard.

I was also incredibly socially awkward so that didn’t help when it came to making friends. I had my brothers and basketball to me that was enough.

I was six when my dad got me my first basketball. He taught me a few things and I became obsessed. Every day after school I’d go to the court near my house and spend hours dribbling and shooting. Some times my brothers came but they had their own things.

Caleb my oldest brother made friends super easy he always managed to have a group of people around him. And Adam my younger brother liked soccer. He tried to teach me to play but it was not for me.

Anyway due to the fact I struggled to make friends and the only people I talked to where my parents and brothers I never learned how to do anything with make up or fashion.

Not that I didn’t try. Whenever I did I ended up looking like a little boy. I did prefer a more masculine dress but I could never find an outfit that fit me. I am ashamed to admit but I do have more than one Nike tech outfit in my closet.

When Geno recruited me from UConn it was like a dream. I first got to the team and I was so awkward but Nika helped. She sat down right next to me and started talking.

She was my first friend and she helped me make friends on the team. And in class and on campus.

Now I was in my last year of college. Me and Nika had been dating for over two years and I had more friends than I thought possible.

My head rested on her chest, her hand gently tangling through my hair. My hand rested on her stomach drawing shapes against her soft skin.

Everything was perfect except one thing. I never really felt pretty. I wanted to do make up and dress how I would think looks good. But whenever I try I just get turned around and confused.

Nika was good at fashion and makeup she always looked good. I had thought about asking her so many times to help me. But it was something I never really knew how to bring up.

Another part of me never bringing it up was pressure from past relationships. When I had tried to do this stuff with past relationships and I had been told no cause ‘Mascs shouldn’t care about that stuff’.

Obviously now being with Nika I know those relationships were toxic but I still couldn’t get rid of the thoughts.But Nika was different I knew she wouldn’t get upset.

“Ni?” I murmur pulling away slightly to look at her. She smiled softly and brushed my hair from my face. “Can you help me with like fashion and stuff. I know I don’t really act like I care but I wanna feel pretty sometimes to ya know.”

Nika gave me a giddy smile cupping my face in her hand. She had asked to do my makeup and skincare before but as you know internalized hate from my exs made me to scared.

“Of course. Tomorrow 8am I’m taking you on a shopping spree and for tonight baby we’re doing skincare.”

I smiled and took her hand dragging her to the bathroom. I jumped up onto the counter and looked at her as she grabbed a bunch of stuff and put it on the counter.

“Frog head band or shark,” she said showing me two fluffy head bands.

“Shark obviously.” I say snatching the head band from her left hand. She smiled and put on the other.

“Now this is definitely not something to do every night. But it is fun once every now and then.” I nod an watch her grab the first bottle turn out this first bottle was like one of a million things we would be doing.

After like 7 other steps she put a face mask on me. I made the horrible mistake of licking my lips.

“Ew Nika this tastes horrible.” I say as I spit in the sink which did not make the horrible soapy taste leave my mouth. Nika laughed and kissed my lips.

“You’re not supposed to get in your mouth.” She laughed and she pulled off the mask. She used a washcloth and rubbed of the extra residue.

There were a few more steps and I was practically falling asleep by the time Nika was done. I smiled leaning my head against her shoulder. I still sat on the counter, Nikas hand scratched my back and she kissed my head.

“Come on baby. Big day tomorrow.” She said, her hands slid under my thighs and lifted me off the counter. I wrapped my arms around her neck.

Nika always made me feel safe and comfortable. She helped me break down my shell and let me feel like I could be well a girl.

She carried me over to the bed and laid me down pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you Nika,” I mumble as I close my eyes pulling our blanket up to cover my face.

“I love you too. I’m glad you feel safe with me.” She said laying behind me. Her hand grabbed my hip and pulled me into her my back colliding with her front.

“Mhm,” I mumble as Nika’s hands dipped under my shirt to trace more shapes on my torso. It’s something she had always done and something I had always loved.

I woke up before Nika she slept comfortably I smiled and pulled her close to me. I held her close to me. My hand gently scratching her back.

I leaned back and looked at the clock it was only 6:30 and I decided I’d let her sleep in awhile longer. I was comfortable and the feeling of the brunette’s body against mine was perfect.

I still struggled to believe she was mine. The Croatian who laid in front of me was simply unfathomable to my mind.

She was actual perfection. She was beautiful, her silky brown hair and big brown doe eyes. She was hilarious without even trying. She so was determined I’ve never seen someone work so hard.

I heard a whine come softly from her mouth, that was how I knew she was walking up. I kissed her head and looked down her big eyes looking at me.

Nika was not a morning person she whines and shut her eyes slamming her head into my chest. I laughed tangling my hand in her hair holding her head against my chest.

“We gotta go shopping baby. Pretty me up and shit,” I whisper, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. She looked up and me glaring slightly.

“You’re already pretty. You just dress like a 10 year old boy.” She said her voice strong with her accent. I smiled and laughed with her. “I’m going to call my parents and then love we’re going shopping.”

“Ok baby,” I say leaning back in the pillows as Nika got up and walked to the bathroom. She always got ready while she talked to her parents.

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, eventually I fell back asleep. I didn’t even know until I heard Nika laughing her ass off. I peeled my eyes opened and glared at her.

“What is so funny,” I said my voice cracking since I had just woke up again. She laughed and turned her phone to me.

It was a picture of me. Not only was I knocked out asleep, but my mouth was wide open and had hair all over the place.

“Nika Muhl you better delete that,” I say reaching for her phone she turned away pulling it to her chest.

“But you’re so cute,” she said sticking out her bottom lip in a pout. She leans down and kisses my lips.

“You better not show no one that,” I mutter as I stumble to the bathroom. I promptly get ready, brushing my hair and teeth and pulling on some baggy jeans and a white tee. “I’m ready to go shopping,” I say jumping out of the bathroom and looking at Nika who laid on our now made bed.

She looked up from her phone and smiled at me. I walked over and leaned slightly forward again for bed frame.

“I’m so excited. And I ordered Starbucks for while we shop so we need to pick it up.” She tells me grabbing her purse from the night stand. I push myself up and take her hand in mine

We had decided to take Nika’s car since it was better on gas and much smaller than my truck so leaving after shopping at that mall which would be almost certainly packed since it was Saturday would be easier.

I insisted on driving even though she had volunteered. Nika wants to drive most of the time and I’m not complaining but I felt useless if I didn’t. She was planning the whole day to help me the least I could do was drive.

We made a quick stop at the Starbucks just off campus and I ran inside to grab me and Nika’s drinks. She got a matcha of some sort and she had order my favorite drink for me.

The drive to the mall we had decided to go to, well Nika decided we go to was about an hour away from campus. Hence us waking up early to go. We left around 9 so we’d get there just as the shops open.

I’m not one for crowds so going when it’s first opening when there are less people is for the better.

The whole drive Nika’s hand rested on my thigh. We talked now and again about school, and she told me how her family was doing back in Croatian. We spoke about my oldest brothers wedding which was coming up in about 2 months and how we still needed to get Nika a dress.

We reached the mall, the parking lot was slowly filling up but not full enough to where we couldn’t find a spot.

“Where to first?” I ask, usually I only went to a store or two. Most of what I wore was the same plain shirt is 2 dozen colors, sweat pants and jeans.

“Well I made a pin board while we drove. It’s just some things I think look good and we could see what you like or don’t like.” She leaned over showing me her phone which somehow had 100 pins.

I nodded and told her which things I liked and didn’t like. I didn’t care for the shoulderless shirts, or the random flannels or extra unbuttoned shirts that were different color.

Nika didn’t seem offended when I said things she just nodded, removed the pin and moved on asking if I liked the next outfit.

I found I liked the baggier pants, and jorts especially with baggy shirts. Which I also helped me find I liked graphic tees and when they had long sleeves under.

Nika told me I liked streetwise aesthetic which i didn’t really get but I nodded along anyway.

Nika lead me into like 7 different stores where I managed to try on 20 different things every time. I didn’t like everything some shirts were to boxy and some of the pants drooped to low for my liking.

There were some things I loved though and after the first few stores of the day my arms were full of bags.

I was happy but damn was I tired. I flopped down on a bench and rested my head on Nika’s stomach as she stood in front of me. She laughed and ran her hand up and down my back.

“How are you feeling,” she asked as I looked up at her.

“Girl I am so tired,” I groan “How do people do this for fun?” I ask leaning my head back. A laugh fell from Nika’s lips.

I loved when she laughed. Sometimes I just talked about dumb stuff because I knew Nika would laugh. It was so perfect every time. I think it was one of the first things I fell in love with about her.

“Admit it you were having funny when you were trying things on.” She said as she set a few of my bags down on the ground next to us. I smiled and looked back at her.

“Yeah I guess it was kinda fun playing dress up.” I smile and kiss her temple. “Where to next?” I ask picking up the bags.

“Let’s go drop these off at the car. And the take a quick trip to Sephora and maybe Ulta.” she said, I nodded and followed behind her to the car. We loaded everything in the trunk and a few bags in the back seat.

Nika took my hand and lead me into the store. This was what I was most nervous about. At least I kinda understood clothes makeup did not make sense. Sure I have watched Nika do her make up hundreds of times but none of it made sense.

“I don’t think we’re gonna get foundation I know you don’t like having to much on your face.” She said as she pulled me towards the concealer.

“You’re right. I would feel like I’m wearing face paint all the time.” I agree as I follow behind her. Her eyes looked between the seemingly dozens of different concealers.

She would look at me and the back and the concealer. She would grab one then look at me again and grab another one. She had about six different shades after a few minutes. If you asked me it was excessive but than again I’m not a makeup person.

“Give me your wrist.” Nika said with an outstretched hand. I reached out my arm so she could test the concealer. She did a swatch and then would tell me about how it was too orange or too light.

To be honest I zoned out and just thought about how cute her voice was and how concentrated she looked as she compared the different colors to my skin. God she’s cute.

“I think this one will be good. Don’t you love?” She said pointing to the fifth swatch on my arm. I looked down and sure enough it blended into my skin quite well.

“Oh that’s nice.” My eyes trailed the rest of my arm “I kinda look like a zebra.” I say twisting my arm in the light, she laughs softly and puts the concealers away minus the one I was getting of course.

“Let’s get some blush, mascara, eyelash curler, eye brow gel and a brush. And ooo primer. We can just get you the kind I like. And then you already have a collection of summer Fridays so we’re good there.”

90% of what Nika has just said didn’t make sense to me. Summer Fridays did though. For some reason I tried Nika’s one time and fell in love with it. I had every flavor minus the mint one. I don’t like mint.

We bought the rest of the stuff and holy shit was make up expensive. Nika also explained to me I can’t just get make up wipes I should use micellar water so make up doesn’t get in my pores.

We drove home. Nika drove this time while I slept in the passenger seat for some reason I could play an entire basketball game running up and down the court but shopping wore me out like a bitch.

Eventually we got home and I ended up sitting on the counter again Nika standing between my legs.

“Can’t we do this tomorrow?” I groan laying my head on her shoulder. It was 4pm there was really no point of putting on makeup. She smiled and wrapped her arms around me.

“I suppose so… but make up is so fun. Trust me baby.” I nod and think it over for a moment.

“Alright. Pretty me up pretty girl.” I say leaning back and resting on my hands.

“Ok this is primer. It makes it easy for makeup to be applied basically.” She says, as she puts a few drops on my face. She gently rubs it into my face.

“It feels sticky,” I murmur.

“Then concealer. You put this over discoloration eye bags really anything you want to cover up. Here.” She hands it to me and i but small swatch’s under my eyes and a a few other places.

Nika takes one of the brushes we bought and blended in into my skin, blush filler next, then she did my eyes brows an eye lashes.

Fun fact you’re not supposed to close your eyes when you curl your eye lashes. The more you know know I guess.

I hoped off the counter and looked in the mirror. I smiled, I felt pretty. Nikas stood behind me arms wrapped around my waist her head resting on my shoulder.

“You look beautiful my love. Not because of the make up, there’s just this energy radiating off of you.” She says as she kisses my cheek.

“Thank you Nika. For everything.”

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Fifteen]

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----/Gothic AU/Haunted Sea/---5K----SFW*

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: You see the world beyond the veil, though something is lurking beneath...

Tags: Strangers to Lovers | Ghosts | Slow Burn | Some Lore | Mentions of Blood* | Mentions of Death* | Sorry for the ending 😬 | There are surely typos but I caught a cold so go easy on me pls

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Fifteen: Cold Embrace

There was a moment in the night when the world painted grey lead, almost transformed into a ghostly realm, blurry lines between the mist floating above the sea and the infinite sky. Barely the sketch of a world.

It was when the veil between worlds thinned enough for the spirits to crawl into ours, and for you to enter theirs.

If you so wished, of course. And you longed for it every night, thinking about what you would wish to say to the woman who gave up on life as soon as she created a little one. Why didn't she take you with her?

Why the sea refused, again and again, and again, to claim you. Too starving of revenge and the blood of this forgotten town, and yet, only those closer to you kept dying.

The image flashed, as quick as lightning. Cold sand pressed against your back, small pebbles trying to incrust inside your skin, the rotten stench of death as the sharp edge of a rusty knife pierced the surface at barely centimeters away from your cheek.

“If the water won’t claim you,” a voice said, face covered with thin, soaked blonde hair. The woman took the handle of the weapon with her broken fingers, nails black and long as she pulled the knife off the sand to raise it above her head. You gasped at the sight of half-eaten grey skin, barnacles, and moss growing on the hard edges of the bone. "Blood will. And how much blood I'm going to draw…"

The knife sang against the air, falling with mastery toward your heart.

By the time you tiptoed your way back to the beacon room, the rain had died down to a breeze; freezing wind sneaking its way through the boarded window. Such opposite of the warm embrace of your now not-so-fake husband—that if his gentle kisses were proof concrete enough.

Though tearing yourself away from the warm embrace of the couch and the sweater Viktor thrown over you was almost a herculean task, but you didn’t wish for him to cover your duty, though by now your rest had been disturbed by the recurrent nightmare, better said, the recurrent memory.

Your weeks as the keeper had turned you nocturnal, another spirit keeping watch by the cliff—a chill running down your spine when you realized you weren't that different from the other ghosts roaming the coast, wailing at the foot of the cliff.

Except today, it seemed. Just as everything seemed different with him around.

Viktor was posted by the uncovered section of the glass, his cane leaned against the wall, a figure so still you thought you were still dreaming, that he had become a new prop of your foolishness at imagining that last night had been real.

A mask melting into the disgusting face of the bloated woman. Another knife was hidden inside the handle of his cane.

"Viktor?" Your voice broke the stillness of the early morning, the fuzzy edges of the world becoming solid once his golden gaze broke between the foggy morning like a victorious sun.

Your steps were annoyingly noisy against the creaky wooden floor of the beacon room, the cold, salty air filtering through the boards as the roaring of the sea dwindled to a simple, constant growl.

“You should’ve woken me,” you said, eyeing the disarray on the table; with open journals and yellowish pages scattered everywhere, tiny, and hurried calligraphy strangely familiar. “Keeping watch isn’t your job.”

His cane tapped against the floor when he turned toward you, a sheepish smile on his face. "It's been a while since I got to see this view." Long, sinewy fingers traced the length of the boards, as if the view he was referring to had been now carved into the wood instead of appearing in the wild. "Accompany me. We need to retrieve some tools from the house today.”

Why he had been by the window all night? If certainly the seascape was stunning during dawn, by night everything was just a world of mist and darkness.

"Did you see her?" you muttered once out of the lighthouse tower; fingers still freezing over the door bolt before pulling out the lock. Part of you hoped you didn't have to say who—not only because of the uncertainty, but also the dread of voicing it, such action pushing the memory of it not like a dream coated in guilt and frenzy, but a real affliction.

Viktor called your name, metal shrieking with accumulated rust once he pulled the gate open. "There's a legend," he trod with caution, words stumbling against each other once the house's façade started looming on the horizon. "About her."

“Well, what is it?”

He smiled at your interest, opening the door of the house that always remained unlocked while he beckoned you inside a spotless foyer. Almost eclipsing the scene, you saw upon your return to the city. If it weren’t…

Everything could be done with step following another, and another; as easy as that, as you’ve done all your life—as you got near your uncle’s funeral.

But then, the pull.

You stood like an alien on the threshold, noticing the elongated shadows seeming to devour any trace of sunlight that could enter through the open door. The silence was broken only by the waves down the beach.

“Miss, we ought not to talk about it here, unless we wish to summon them,” Viktor said, leaning closer to you to whisper such words that left goosebump flesh to crawl up your arms. “That’s what all ghost stories say, does it not?”

No, it wasn’t a pull. It was a gaze.

Old and unmerciful and unwavering, coming from the empty corner down the first floor’s hall. There where only the amorph shadow of the dissected mermaid had been once.

Was it her? Was hers the cave you discovered yesterday? Was she—

"Then, when do we talk about what's happening in here?" you whispered, hoping your front of bravery would be enough for the house to stop staring at you with the feeling of inferiority blooming out of your chest. "I’m tired of thinking I’m out of my mind. I don’t want to run anymore. Because ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

Just like you pretended those muddy footsteps were a result of your vivid imagination. Barely daring to remember there here, where the horror had taken place—though you had to admit it hadn’t been the worst.

His eyes darkened, from sunny to burned honey. Viktor passed next to you, side-gazing the staircase up to the first set of stairs toward where his underground office was located. His fingers surrounded one of your wrists, pulling you away from the entrance and into the depths of the house.

His back and open coat brought you protection as he guided you toward the kitchen, covered from the gaze you were sure was still piercing his back.

“In open waters, where nobody else but ourselves can hear,” he whispered, pulling back in such a swift move you were almost convinced his words had been a delusion. “Alright. I'll bring the notebooks to my bedroom desk. Can you bring the books on the table down to my office?” He pointed toward the first-floor hallway. “I need to pack lightly for this excursion.” Viktor chuckled. “The boat isn’t that big, and now I’ll have company…”

Now was the cave, but before had been those damned footsteps, mocking outlines of a presence that shouldn't be there—and you weren't sure if you preferred it to be a simple joke from Viktor or an intruder from town.

Why had Viktor decided to make you company in the lighthouse? It went further than empathy, or even, the craving of being closer to each other when the whole world faded. But the starlight sphere hadn’t been built yet. And while shadows rested for their hauntings, you could wander freely.

You remembered the stagnant air filling your nose as you hoped your uncle to pass by after their break inside Viktor’s house, fearing the vivid memory would materialize into his ghost again.

Or whoever would be wearing his face this time.

 “I—I would prefer to go for the books on the second floor, so you won’t climb too many stairs,” you said, your face hot once you met Viktor’s attentive gaze, an eyebrow elegantly arched. “Not to be meddlesome, of course.”

Viktor nodded, a half-smirk pulling his lips. “If you say so." He hummed, taking some keys out of his pockets; between all the golden, the one to open the underground office was big and heavy, silver, and with a slight tint of green from rust. “I’ll see you by the office, then.”

His steps quickly disappeared, your curiosity peaking as you climbed the stairs, almost picturing the rainy night you had met him, so many weeks ago.

Perhaps you’d be more familiar with the house if this marriage were conventional—if this house were conventional, too, without charged silences and acute shadows looming around the corners.

Without muddy footsteps guiding the way toward Viktor’s room.

He didn’t have any servants employed on the daily, with dusty corners and spiderwebs growing from the small crevices between the wall lamps and the roof. Excepting the quiet cook who came once a week to deliver food, Viktor lived all alone.

Until you, perhaps.

You would never know how he could stand it, the endless, empty hallways, still corners as if waiting for something to break such consistency with a humanoid shadow suspended above the ground. Such a big house, so lonesome.

Many corners watching your every move, so many shadows lurking nearby. It was maddening, as if you were a prey expecting to be hunted at every turning corner.

And then, it was your shabby cabin, too small for five people and yet, just as solitary.

Cursed or not, the walls are always whispering, bleeding the time it has seeped into them when the wallpaper isn’t changed regularly. The dark spots of humidity, creaky floors, and shrieking doors.

This house was alive, just like a guardian for its secrets, and right now, you were an intruder.

Would there be a place where you weren’t one?

Viktor’s door was unlocked when you entered, the familiar, cold handle quickly turning. Inside, everything was untouched, as you would expect a hostel’s room to look. So… abandoned.

The morning sun painted the white walls light yellow, staining your vision that was now so used to the dim orangey hues from the oil lamps lined up along the hallway. His bed was kept, blankets tucked neatly under the pillows that you know smelled like him; old pages of books, coffee beans, and the marine breeze filtering through the window.

With careful strides, wishing not to disturb the quietness of the place that was cut only by your slow breaths.

There it was his desk, the pile of papers and notebooks with wrinkly edges covering the wooden surface. Absentminded, your fingers passed through the pages, observing ink stains seeping through the reverse of its surface, crossed-out words gone unreadable. Diagrams of different sea creatures signaling with arrows are parts you couldn't make sense of.

Except… these… some of these drawings were familiar, or illustrations you'd found in the tales' books your grandparents kept by the side of your cot. Mermaids—all kinds of creatures with human heads, arms, and torsos, yet infinite classes of lower half.

Click. You heard, the hairs in your nape raising once the door in front of his bedroom started creaking.

Wood wept as the darkness spilled into the hallway, acute shadows seeming to lurk closer. His notebooks crackled when you pressed them against your chest in a stupid attempt to soothe your frenetic heartbeat.

Curtains were drawn, windows boarded; the inside of the adjacent room looked like a dark maw. You wished to tear your gaze away from the void, but curiosity prickled your brain, wishing to guess which amorph figures you could peek from the shadows.

Which one was the cause of your horrors?

You got closer to the hallway—you didn’t have another way to walk toward the exit, taking steps backward steps in an attempt not to turn your back to the darkness.

From the poor illumination from the oil lamp next to the door, you observed the outlines of a four-poster bed, a thin veil covering the mattress to protect it from the dust that permeated the forgotten, locked-away room.

 It was then when your gaze flashed down, gaze focused on the large, solid mass of shadows sitting at the edge of the bed, half-body tucked inside the veil.

Your feet stumbled, almost tripping by the wrinkled edge of the carpet; knees converted into molten wax.

A trail of mud looked like drying blood inside the room, ending at the foot of the bed.

The sketch of a humanoid figure—the ghost bared its teeth in a lazy grin. Human teeth.

The air got stuck on its way out of your lips.

But no, you have pledged enough mercy that night at the cave, and you knew ghosts would be restless anyhow, as unmerciful as the heartbroken wails from the cliff.

You felt the heavy weight of the shell in the depths of your pocket, a somewhat comforting presence when your hands slid along the wallpaper wall, cold and rugged by time, to touch the level of the sconce.

Light filled the room like a yellowish afternoon, showing you a bedroom that was probably decorated by and for a young woman. With its tall closet and books collecting dust, discolored bedsheets covering what appeared to be a lounging couch posted by the window. A vanity whose mirror had been missed.

Covered with a soft-looking cotton blanket decorated with a knitted pattern of flowers laid the mattress, ruffles of lavender fabric covering the rest until it grazed slightly against the wooden floor. And yet despite all the details, no matter how hard your eyes tried to scan the surface, the bed remained empty.

Though a mark was half hidden beneath the ruffles, like a mocking gesture.

The outline of a footprint, still wet and muddy staining the fabric’s edge.

Newly made.

Swallowing a lump down your throat, which could be both panic and nausea, you held your breath while taking the door’s knob, cold and solid and grounding.

I won’t fear anymore. You thought, knuckles white from your forceful grasp. I won’t fear anymore.

Accommodating Viktor’s notebooks under your arm, you ran your finger to meet with the light’s flick, the movement more unconscious than you'd imagined as your finger simply ran down the button's surface to fill the room with shadows once again.

Instinct called you to look at the bed once again, which remained empty.

Yet still, while you closed the door with a slam, the hairs around your face moved by the breeze, accompanied by a distinctive human sigh.

It smelled like stagnant air, like the rotten stench of death.

When you tore your hand away from the knob, your fingers were stained with mud and traces of coagulated blood. An ominous mark, and an open challenge, perhaps.

It hadn’t been disgust. It wasn't a lack of bravery that made you dash down the stairs either, but the feeling that preceded closely behind after the sound dragged too long and with an impossible origin in this solitary hallway. Chills covered your skin with goosebumps, the heavy feeling of your nausea climbing up your empty stomach, the sick sensation of someone—something—watching you close.

Mid-way to the first landing, you started humming, a coping mechanism you developed since your uncles loved to tell you horror stories. To let your mind wander, filled with a long-forgotten song you tried to resurrect. Hum the same song in a loop until your brain tired itself out, forcing you to slumber.

This time, an echo answered your unconscious call for a duet once you stepped onto the ground floor, the sound floating along the wood, originating from under the door next to Viktor’s office.

“Viktor?” you muttered, though the voice wasn’t the same. It was a childish attempt to conceal the fear that this house enjoyed tied into your ankles and arms, like a puppet.

And right now, the house wanted you to play, prickling your curiosity enough to open the door. The locked door whose key remained inside the breast pocket of Viktor’s coat, the closed door that upon your intense gaze wasn’t locket at all, lock rusty and empty, yet not sealed.

Perhaps this one would also open unexpectedly if you hovered nearby long enough.

If you want to know, open this door, the house told you, making its walls loom closer, to trap you inside this moment when the sun hid behind a cloud, perhaps fearful of what your decision would be.

Open it. Open it. Open it.

You stood in front of it, torn between going down the known path, where Viktor’s door pooled light under the door, safe company, or following this one where the cold breeze came from. The door looked back at your indecision, impassive and old. All-knowing.

Open it. Open it. Open it. Don’t you want to know if you’re crazy? If you’re both crazy?

With your jaw clenched, you hugged Viktor’s notes closer to your chest, a sharp inhale as if you were about to dive underwater.

I know you won’t dare to open it, you coward little girl.

The iron was freezing to the touch; the slight creak between the floor and the door filtered cool air toward your legs, around your ankles like a lasso—which made you aware that this wasn’t a sealed room.

What was on the other side?

I know you won’t dare to open it, you coward little girl.

THUNK.

“Miss, what are you doing?” Viktor said when he saw you running down the steps of his office, hands pressed against the door as if a monster were trying to enter. “Are you alright?”

“Viktor,” you breathed, feeling your legs shake from the strain and the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “Viktor, what is this?” you said, tumbling down the stairs and pushing the mermaid’s diagrams on top of the desk.

Viktor looked at you with wide eyes, some hairs prickling his forehead when he shook his head. “Pardon? Were you looking into my things?”

“Of course not,” your rebuttal was sharp and dry, humorless. “These are the notes you wanted to retrieve for the expedition. Why?”

He started by calling your name, but this wasn’t time to play with niceties. It wasn’t the first time you were haunted in this house—much less in this damned town; your old shell as a scared person had slowly been replaced by a harder, boldest one.

Viktor sighed, rubbing his right temple. “It’s… complicated,” he ventured. Words died in his mouth when he looked away in shame. "I don't think you'd believe me."

You extended your left hand, showing him the rest of the mud and blood starting to peel off. "If you believed me, why shouldn't I believe you?"

His eyes traveled toward your fingers extended toward him, his hand swiftly enveloping your stained digits with his own, dismissed the idea of caring about getting his hand dirty. You saw his expression shift; knitted eyebrows and a slightly clenched jaw, lips pressed on a line.

“Come with me,” Viktor said, standing from the desk and grabbing a valise that looked both full and heavy. “Let’s get out of this house.”

The afternoon was fading away when you helped Viktor push a fishing boat toward the shallow waters of the beach, almost not feeling the freezing weight of the water lapping at your ankles for the tall boots you decided to wear.

Your tummy was full of an extensive meal, arms burning from the effort of a whole day full of duties, feeling the rattling of the wooden boat scrapping the rocks in your bones.

“It’s ready,” Viktor grunted, ignoring the beads of sweat running down his forehead. “I’ll help you up first.” He extended his hand toward you, using it as leverage for you to step into the wobbling surface of the vessel. “There you go.” He used his upper body strength to sit against the edge of the boat, using your arms to rotate himself inside it, only putting down his legs over what would be his seat for the rest of the expedition.

The lighthouse waved you goodbye when you started paddling, wanting to keep the motor in case of emergency—besides, Viktor had said that the rain would come only after sundown.

"This is the fishing boat of Mr. Calis," you told him, passing your hands over the half-scrapped-down painting of its name Norina. It was, better put since Mr. Calis had died years ago.

“Yes. I bought it from his son when Mr. Calis moved with him to the city,” Viktor said. “It’s said to be the only fishing boat that didn’t suffer losses even during the fishing shortage years ago.”

You remembered, around ten years ago when your grandma told you that story while you promised you wouldn't repeat it.

It happened when she was still young, blessed with a reliable memory. Like all the other families from Piltover the Old, they must carry the familiar tradition of fishing as the only job people from this town could have—they were favored by the mermaids, or so the legends said.

And yet, all that terrible winter brought were merciless storms, destructive floods, and blobs of rotten fish washed ashore. All unconsumable, all unsellable.

It went for all winter, using the arrival of spring as an excuse to offer tribute to the sea, a custom you could still appreciate from the elders' survivors of the town leaving offerings at the foot of the cliff, washed away by the sea.

"People said he cut half the catch of each day and dumped it overboard in open waters," you hummed, just like your grandma did when she reached that part of the tale. "To feed the mermaids that helped him fill his nets."

“This town had always been tied to mermaids," Viktor said, enjoying the view of the lighthouse making itself smaller and smaller, a thin veil of fog starting to cover the sea as the sky turned dark blue. "Its designation as the largest, richest fishing zone all along this coast; it's downfall, and now even its remains are still tied to it."

“That’s why you’re interested in mermaids?”

"Yes," Viktor said, his body leaning backward and onwards with each forceful paddle, the tides growing impatient by the calling of the full moon that could barely peek down at you from between the thick clouds. "Many scientists still don't understand what phenomenon occurs in these waters. How there are so many flashing floodings, uneven patterns of raining seasons, and, well, this." Viktor signaled around you, the world becoming blurry and grey in the middle of the mist. "Look over there, where the sun dipped down."

With his cold hand, he guided your chin toward the west, where the continuous path of mist broke with a blue patch of sky.

“Is that…?” But it couldn’t be.

Viktor nodded. "The night sky. Nobody knows why only this part of the beach fills with fog and storms at night. There are dozens of papers theorizing about it, but alas, nothing is concrete yet."

“And do you think this is the product of mermaids?”

“There was a brutal hunting episode near this shore,” Viktor gestured to where the lighthouse was observing them like a gargantuan cyclops with its unwavering gaze, golden like its owner. “Folklore says that the fishermen killed mermaids once their revenues plummeted at the sudden shortage of fish—their pact with the mermaids already broken. But scientists say they killed large mammals instead, perhaps manatees. Such massacre would've created an unbalance in the ecosystem that still affects us today."

You paddled quicker once the night sky grazed you with its twinkling stars, a clean fabric of navy blue where the moon looked so big and full you could almost extend your hand and cup it, letting her tint you with its silver hues, to make you all moonlight. Perhaps that way you could float away from the dreary coast, always grisly and hopeless with its freezing rain that had seeped your bones with the same disillusion.

“Of course, that doesn’t explain the meteorological phenomena surrounding the town, either why there are people who refuse to leave it despite its conditions,” Viktor continued, stretching the sore muscles of his back once you broke over the unfoggy, calm open waters.

“Maybe they can’t,” you replied, your mind lost in the memories of your trip to the city.

Viktor gazed at you, seemingly thinking the same in the way he nodded, lips ajar as if trying to say something else.

“Perhaps they can’t,” he agreed, voice barely above a whisper. “His name was Gavin. Gavin Stell. He built the house—and many say, he haunts the house.”

You felt cold despite the layers of clothes you had wrapped yourself into, the marine breeze making you believe the ghost was still behind you, whispering things into your ear.

“A man covered in mud…”

Viktor nodded. "He died inside his house during the devastating first flooding. Thinking his house was high enough that nothing would happen to him, he boarded the windows and sealed the doors to prevent the water from entering; and yet, she still found him and claimed him and the house. They had been the highest tides ever recorded; around sixty feet tall and seventy feet in range—of course, many say folklore exaggerated them. There’s no way to know for sure.” Viktor took the anchor and let it sink overboard once you were all surrounded by inky waters. “His spirit is locked inside the house, wanting his revenge from the mermaids that made his most precious project go to waste.”

You bit your lip, tasting the copper stench of your blood. The words were too scary to let out. This is real. That night was real. “Then the woman on the beach is a mermaid, perhaps? The one he’s trying to take revenge on?”

 “No. Mermaids can’t be ghosts because they have no soul, no real body that remains after death.”

“But… the one in the museum—”

“It’s a fake. A wonder of mythical taxonomy, but it’s made up with human rests and other marine animals to match. It was discovered years after the flooding and after Gavin’s death. I suppose it was the last reason to abandon any hope to recover Piltover the Old’s once splendor.”

“That’s why you say you’re cursed?” you mumbled now that his attentive gaze was drawn away from yours, his fingers expertly aligning bottles to collect the bioluminescence algae and the water. “Because if so—and I know this may not help at all—but we’re all a bit cursed, too. But maybe together we can find a way to get out of the mist for good.” Shyly, you took the small tests he handed you, scribbling down what he instructed you to label them correctly and put them inside the box made of wood and leather.

Viktor tried to smile, observing the calm water that started to form foam with bioluminescent blue and green, ready to scoop part of it into his sterile bottle. "I've lost count of how many times I've tried, that I'm trying not to get my hopes high, Miss. The sea is unforgiven, and it seems that I still owe too much for her to let me go."

You stayed quiet for a moment after that, not knowing how to feel, or what to say. You felt it, too. The tug at the bottom of your heart that called to look out the window, even now, challenged your best senses to look directly down into the abyss. To watch and tell her, I’m here.

"Mermaids may have no soul, but where do you think all those people killed by the sea went?" Viktor's question surprised you, his profile bathed in moonlight while his eyes squinted in focus toward the coast that had been left behind. "Sometimes, I think that they're, perhaps, in the mist that surrounds the town at night."

That she had taken too much from you, to confront her; sinking into the green-blue waters and glaring into its unbounded limits.

I’m here. What more do you want from me? You thought, settling another sample of bioluminescence inside the chest and dipping your hand into the water to erase a blotch of ink from staining your sweater.

"But then, why do they haunt us?" you whispered, the ghost wearing your uncle's face appearing in your mind. Your eyes locked into the water to try erase such happening from your memory.

What more do you want to take to let me be free?

From the infinite black of the ocean's waters, you saw a glimpse of white move below the boat, pale and quick and giant like lightning.

The boat rippled, with Viktor almost lost balance while trying to catch his cane about to fall overboard.

“Vikt—" you started, looking at him with eyes wide with terror, your grasp on his shoulders forceful and your breathing so quick it was creating clouds of steam from the lower temperature creeping into the night. “There’s something under the boat…”

From under the boat, you saw the flash again, a large, massive eye peeking from under the ocean surface directly at you.

A scream bubbled up its way out your throat, drowned by the sudden movement of the water below swaying violently to the side, toppling the boat upside down.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! And what do YOU think is lurking beneath! 🤗💙🤍

[sirenologyyy]

ROCKAWAY !

ao'nung x fem!sully reader

✷ premise : as tensions rise and your family is forced out of the only home you've ever known, fish boy meets forest girl and the rest is history (tragedy)

✷ warnings : kidnapping, swearing, injury, blood, violence, and death

✷ author's note : here's part 2 for you guys! Just a lil heads up the fight scene is in this one 👀 also hinewai is pronounced as HEE-neh-WAI !

part 2 of the SOLD OUT OF LOVE series

"These are ilu, if you want to live here you have to ride "

You turn to Neteyam and Lo'ak, your eyes meeting theirs.

"Don't tell me you're actually scared baby bro" Neteyam taunts, leaning closer to Lo'ak as they pretended to pay attention to Ao'nung teaching them how to properly bond with an ilu.

"Who the hell says i'm scared?"

"He's bluffing" You appended lightnight fast, keeping your eyes on Ao'nung while tilting your body towards your oldest brother.

"Yeah I know he is," He crowed. "I know his tell, his face turns purple and his tail draws zig-zags in the air-" He stops. "Oh my bad, he was just looking at Tsireya"

Lo'ak jabs his elbow against Neteyam's arm as you tried stifling your laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth before it was too late.

"Are you three even listening?" Ao'nung asks, zeroing his eyes at each of you respectively, his eyes lingering on your face longer than you had liked to the point that you had just raised both your eyebrows acknowledging him, he looks away innocently, glaring at Lo'ak once more.

Neteyam looks at him. "Right, yeah, sorry"

"Answer the question skxawng" He maintained.

Lo'ak stepped up, showing his palms. "Look take it easy alright? Don't need to get a knot in your tail so early in the morning"

The blue frog was a few seconds shy from steam leaving his ears and Tsireya quickly notices. "Now that Ao'nung has explained to you all the basics, who wants to go first?" She asks.

Innocently, you shove Lo'ak forward as the rest of you took a step backwards like something tugged at the neurological link that connected between siblings. He looked at all of you standing two steps away from him almost scandalised, betrayed, possibly even outraged.

"Lo'ak!" Tsireya exclaimed happily, clapping her hands as she wades toward him, pulling him to the ilu that had been circling her through out the entire session. He looked back at the rest of you in fear, you and Neteyam silently giving words of support and encouragement as Tsireya pulled him along with her.

"Swing your leg over her body" Ao'nung instructs once Tsireya dragged the both of you a few ways away from the others, you begrudgingly swung your right leg over the ilu's slender body, running a hand over her neck as an attempt to console it from the abrupt weight shift that was you sitting on her back.

You barely even blinked before you hear Ao'nung's tongue check in his mouth. "You're sitting on it wrong"

You whirl your head at him. "I'm sitting on it wrong? " You reiterate, widening your eyes at him in disbelief.

"Yes" He deadpans. "A million possible ways you can ride an ilu yet you ride it as if you're trying to wrestle with it"

You roll your eyes in frustration, but nearly jumping out of your skin when you feel his warm hand on your leg, out of instinct you jabbed your foot against his chest, sending him a few steps back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? He sends you a sharp look. "Relax Forest Girl, I am not here to violate you" He retaliates boredly. "Put your leg down here, you're not trying to ride an íkran," He began, shifting your leg to a different more comfortable position. "Go and make the bond"

You connect your queues together and a surge of memories wash over you, clear and exhilarating days of swimming in the open ocean, hunting for food, playing in the reefs, the fear of losing her parents to akulas, your stomach sinking as you watched it swim away, the love she had for her children, 5 babies, you felt as proud as she was.

"Now we can finally start by fixing that horrible posture of yours, Eywa Almighty you look like a deformed shrimp"

"Just teach me how to ride the goddamn thing"

"I'm getting there"

You huffed, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders, trying to get yourself used to sitting on an ilu.

"You have to treat her like she is one of your own," Ao'nung tells you, walking towards the head of the ilu. "You must be gentle, slow, treat her with respect, with compassion, and most of all ride her like you care for her-"

You finally slump. "Are you teaching me how to ride an ilu or get it pregnant?"

You heard his hand splash the surface of the water, your ilu baying at the sudden action. "Would the repercussions of murdering Toruk Makto's daughter short of death? because i am going to risk it"

"You talk too much" You tell him with a sour expression.

"You talk too much " He repeats in a tone that you assumed was a crude imitation of your voice.

Your jaw almost went slack if not for your brother, zooming past your peripheral on his ilu. You turn your body around, following his distorted figure until he is thrown off his ilu. You hear Ao'nung rise from the water and laugh as his other friends do, you realize how quickly you missed Rotxo's presence.

As Lo'ak swims back to the group, Ao'nung turns to you.

"Hold here" He says, gesturing to the ilu's gill mantle, you do as he says, adjusting your grip every now and then to see which one could keep you on the longest. "Mind your back, Forest Girl"

You straighten it once more. "Jesus Christ"

His face twists again. "What the hell is a Jesus Christ?" He stops himself. "You know what I do not want to know, keep your back straight and your legs in the same position as they were before or you will be sliding across the beach like a skipping stone"

"You're a real hit aren't you"

"I know" He grinned.

You let out a puff of air as you flexed your shoulders, feeling your back crack. "Y/N! It is your turn!" Tsireya calls out, beckoning you towards her and the empty space where Lo'ak had taken off just moments earlier. You swallowed, telling your ilu to move forward and as she does you lower your head closer to hers. "You won't throw me off will you?"

She clicks and yelps at you, only hoping that was her saying 'no worries pal'

Your ilu who you unofficially decided to name Hinewai, stops at the center of everyone. Lo'ak barely made it past that rock formation shaped like a fang, if you could somehow hang on til then and the way back then Ao'nung could shove that smug smile right up his ass.

"Okay, go!" Tsireya exclaimed.

"Hyah!" You yell, before filling your cheeks with air and descending under the water. It was a rough ride at first but you held onto the gill mantle for dear life while she flailed you around like some ragdoll, your left hand slips, you only manage to hold onto it again after a minute of her chasing some fish through the coral reef, making hard turns, your legs and arms getting scraped by the rocky surfaces of coral. She catches it just outside the small reef and you tell her to bring you up for some air, coincidentally a few steps away from the group.

Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk, and Tsireya started cheering you on as your body broke through the water , Lo'ak a little less considering his twin baby sister just rode and ilu and didn't fall off like he did. On the first try nonetheless, and lastly Ao'nung who didn't utter a peep.

"You were amazing out there!" Neteyam shouts, wading up to you with the rest of your siblings.

"It didn't feel like it" you admitted, almost laughing in the process.

"You should've seen Lo'ak's face when he realized you were coming back still riding your ilu" Kiri giggles, earning a nudge from Lo'ak who simply grinned before trapping you in a headlock and digging a knuckle against your hair, you try and push him off before smacking him in the face which catches him off guard.

"Teyam and Lo'ak were betting on you, you know, they said if you fell then Neteyam gets Lo'ak's chores for two weeks" Kiri adds before Lo'ak slaps his hand on her mouth, passing it off with a little laugh.

"It's true," Tuk says, looking at Lo'ak. "If you did fell Lo'ak gets Neteyam's chores plus a week's worth of yovo fruit"

"Tuk hit her head on the wall before leaving the house, she dosen't know what she's saying" says Lo'ak.

Tuk was about to object before Lo'ak picks her up sideways and blows raspberries on her stomach, bringing her to Tsireya to feed the ilus.

"Where is your brother?"

"He's down by the beach"

Neytiri frowns. "It is lunch time, very unlikely for Lo'ak not to be here by now"

"He had a big breakfast" You tell her, setting down the basket of fish you and Neteyam managed to catch after riding the ilus. "Near threatened to beat me if I didn't give him my share of banana fruit this morning"

A couple of your siblings chuckle along with you.

"Look, if he's hungry he can come to us, me and your mom have business to take care of after lunch so we gotta eat quick" Jake disclosed, nodding at the empty spots next to the dining table as he himself sat down. Neytiri asks Kiri to lead the prayer and once she was done thanking for the food you've all received and whatnot you started to dig in. Nabbing a piece of fish, breaking it apart, ripping a piece of meat, and popping it in your mouth.

"I heard you all practiced with ilus today," Jake starts, swallowing. "How'd that go?"

"It went okay, sir" Neteyam answers beside you. "Challenging at first but nothing a little practice couldn't fix"

"Good to hear" says Jake.

"Ma'ite, please sit properly" Neytiri says, looking at you. You resist the urge to groan so you put your leg down, your elbow previously resting on it before she spots you from across the table. This was stupid.

"Is that an eyeroll?" Jake wonders almost instantly, your ears flicking down for a millisecond before you look up at him to make sure he was talking to you. Yeah he was talking to you. "No, sir" you reply.

"Better not be"

"Teyam, pass the fish" Kiri asks quietly, pointing her chin at the basket of fish located in between you and him, he hands it to her across the table, watching her lips to mutter a small thank you.

You see your dad break apart a yovo fruit. "How're you all treatin' the Olo'eyktan's children? You nice to them?"

More like were they nice to us?

"Yes sir"

"Great, I need that to remain a constant, I expect the best from all of you alright?" Now that Lo'ak wasn't here his eyes find yours instantly. "Yes?"

A scattered chorus of yes sir's and yes dad's were heard across the dining table.

"Before we make dinner I want you two to help me with repurposing some of Tuk's old clothes" Says Neytiri, she didn't have to look at any of you for you to know who she was referring to.

"Okay" Kiri replies, breaking apart a yovo fruit as well, splitting the other half with Tuk.

"Okay" you say, flipping the fish to its other side to pick at the remaining meat.

You hear the collision of a wooden glass onto the table. "Should we head over?" Jake asks, looking at Neytiri who seemed to have finished eating as well, she responds with a silent nod.

They stand up from the table in unison, going over to wash their hands before they head on out. "I don't want none of you clowning around when we're away is that clear?" You barely had any time to respond before your Dad starts talking again. "Be on your best behavior or I swear you'll never hear the end of it from me"

"Be good, all of you" Mom adds.

"Neteyam, Y/N, up and at 'em " Neteyam stands up straight, straight back, straight face, so do you, though a bit slower than him. "You're in charge as usual, you know what to do once your siblings start upsetting the apple cart, you read me?"

Neteyam gives him a curt nod. "Affirmafive sir, loud and clear"

"Now for you," He says rounding on you. "Don't bite off more than you can chew alright?"

"Aye, aye" You reply, your voice hinting at the slightest almost impercievable tone of sarcasm you so desperately wanted to use.

"Alright, dismissed" and just like that they were gone.

You finally slouch again. "Come on, hurry up and finish your food before they come back"

Neteyam sighed. "Don't do that, you might choke on a fishbone"

"We can just see who's faster at putting away the plates" Tuk suggested, pushing a piece of fish in her mouth she stole from your plate.

"Do you want my fish?" You just ask, she nods and so you ripped her half of whatever meat was left before you wolfed down the rest.

Neteyam downs a glass of water. "Hah! Done!"

"Yeah well so am I!" Tuk combats incoherently, her cheeks full of fish before she swallows it all down.

"We're all done, silly" says Kiri, standing up and bringing her leaf to the sink where she scrapes all of what was left of her plate down the hole, an ilu that was waiting beneath the hut chomping on all of the left overs.

"Tuk go grab the rest of the bowls " You tell her, scraping your scraps down the hole before giving it to Kiri who washed it down.

Once the table was cleared and the dishes were put away you all go out of the hut, Kiri down to the beach to find Lo'ak while you and Neteyam watch Tuk running off towards a group of village children who beckoned her to play with them, not looking back at you any longer.

You turn to Neteyam. "Eywa, I wish it was that easy to make friends here"

He chuckles. "Come on, it's Tuk" He tells you knowingly.

"I wish we were all like Tuk" you sang, sighing greatly.

"They probably just start out really sweet, and as they grow older they turn all twisted and mean, like Ao'nung"

"No" You tell him, shaking your head, staring at your youngest sister slowly turn into a blurry figure as she got farther and farther away from you. "He was dropped as a child, it's the only explanation"

You and him walk along the coastline, enjoying the cold breeze, the warm sun, before Kiri's voice captures your attention. You didn't need to see the look on Neteyam's face before the both of you ran towards the sound. Under the shade of the trees you see Kiri and Lo'ak.

And Ao'nung and his friends.

Neteyam gets there faster than you, turning Ao'nung to face him. "You heard what she said, leave them alone"

You see one of Ao'nung's cronies step up. "Ohh, big brother coming to-" He stops as Ao'nung stops him with a hand across his chest.

"-Back off, now" Neteyam snarled, prodding a finger at Ao'nung's chest. He takes a step back, throwing his arms up in the air to show he concedes.

This man cannot be serious.

"They don't have it in them to hit us, just a couple of lap dogs and their ring leader" You say, siding with Neteyam, eyes landing on Ao'nung who looked like he was about to transform into a plum. "Come on you guys, we're done here" You tell your siblings, walking off in annoyance before one of his friends pushes you back in the circle.

"Don't touch me" You snap, slapping his arm away and shoving his chest backward.

"Hey!" Neteyam bellows, walking up to one of his goofy ass looking friends, staring at every single one of them in the process. "From now, on I need you to respect my sisters, got that?"

So he just resorts to hissing at him. With that, Neteyam grabs your and Lo'ak's shoulders, leading the both of you out of there.

"Ba-bye!" Taunts one.

"Look at them, freaks, all four of them" You hear Ao'nung whisper, your hand started to twitch involuntarily. You turn around to give them a piece of your mind but realize that Lo'ak was already 5 steps ahead of you.

"Lo'ak" you say, abandoning your original plan, sensibility taking over.

He turns to you. "I got this, sis"

"I know this hand is funny," He began, flexing his fingers at them. "Look, I'm a freak, an alien" He tells them as they laughed. "But it can do something really cool, watch, see- you have to ball it up real tight like this, and then-"

BAM. One hit square on the nose.

BAM. another across his face.

BAM. One last, under the chin sending his ass falling down to the sand.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sight, Neteyam and Kiri glaring at you.

"It's called a punch bitch! Never touch my sisters again!" Lo'ak yelled before Ao'nung rams into him. Lo'ak turns him over and punches him once more, the other boys dragged him back by his tail, one of the burly looking ones slapping him hard across the face with his own.

It wasn't fair if you simply stood and watched this right? You needed to put a stop to this.

So without thinking you started running.

Running towards the fight, dragging one of the boys away from your brother by his queue, landing one across his face, dodging a punch from another before headbutting him instead. Someone drags you away by your tail, falling to the sand with a loud thud, you turn to your back and jab your heel against his loincloth, springing back up before one of the boys turn you around to try and land a punch, one to the right, dodge, one to the left, until he just kneed you in the ribs making you double over so that he could finally land a punch to your cheekbone, then another punch to your cheekbone before you grab his fist, turn him around and kick his back, taking another boy down in the process, leaving them to the care of Neteyam who had joined the fight moments after you.

Ao'nung comes at you from behind, sending the both of you down, your head landing hard on a rock sending shock waves through your skull, your temple had started to bleed as you turn him over, landing punches on his nose until it bled, he kicks you off of him, punching your stinging cheekbone, your nose, your cheekbone, then your nose, as static began to fill your vision.

"You hit like a girl!" You screamed at him, struggling underneath his grip.

"So do you!" He shouts back before you try and push him off you, struggling underneath him before resorting to kicking his groin with your knee which worked like a charm, you were on your feet a second later, spitting out the liquid iron taste that filled your mouth. You switched positions, pinning him down which caught him off guard as you tried to land another hit on his face before he got away, you see the look on his face and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Careful, wouldn't want me to think you enjoy being underneath me do you?" You intoned.

Ao'nung's gaze was piercing and vile enough to poison a thanator. "I'd rather pull my spine out of my ass than ever come close to liking you"

With one last punch to his face you scramble towards Lo'ak who had three on him. You pull one away by his tail, dragging him across the beach before punching another one square to the throat, watching him choke and stagger back before you landed two punches to his face, pinning him down, getting lost in the moment and splitting his eyebrow open. The boy was absolutely befuddled, he does everything he could to get you off of him, but to no avail, he resorted to claw at you, causing your necklace to split, beads flying everywhere.

You feel your shoulder turned around by someone, it was Ao'nung once more with another punch to the nose, feeling hot blood dribble out from your nostrils, you pull his arm down, placing a knee on his ribs and finally letting go all of your pent up frustrations onto his face, you weren't even sure if the blood on your knuckles were his or yours.

"All that mouth yet you still can't fight with your fists" He pants with a sickening grin, the dark red patches on his face contrasting with the cool teal of his skin.

Your jaw tightens, forgetting the pain, letting rage take the wheel as you pulled your dagger out of its sheath, raising it up to his neck and watching as the sight of it wipes the cocky grin off his face, his lips parting in shock. "You're right, I don't, but i'm damn sure I can fight with this"

"You won't " He spat.

But you nod. "Oh but I would, I really would"

He tries to get out of your grip, you didn't even have to do anything for your knife to knick his skin.

"You want me to take this off your neck?" You ask, looking at his eyes for an answer, you weren't satisfied on what you got so you deepened your knife against his neck, making him let out a broken hiss. "Don't touch my siblings again, or so help me Eywa I will slit your throat and watch while you bleed dry on the beach then I'll call on my íkran to feast on your scorched corpse" You hissed. "You got that reef boy?"

But he does not answer, instead he stares up at you in silence, the only sound eliciting his lips were the ragged breaths he took, you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against yours, his aquamarine eyes bouncing from every point of your face, almost reading you, until the grip on your knife loosened.

You found yourself reading him too, confusion and frustration making your face twist.

That is until someone pulls you away from him, and at the spur of the moment you almost feel like his hands tried to wrap themselves around your waist before your body was so quickly pulled out of his clutches.

Another boy gave you an uppercut, then another knee to the gut before you pointed your knife at him, sending him backwards. You try and stand up, regaining your balance as you let a grin spread on your stinging face.

"That's it," you taunt, nodding at him, unconciously baring your fangs. "Back up"

One of them tries to make a leap for you but you just do the same, so they hiss instead. Fine, you thought. You throw your dagger through the gap between them, making it's mark on a tree behind them, they were stunned to say the least, it even had wisps of hair sticking out from where the knife met the tree, they look back at you horrified.

You see them run away hurriedly calling for their ilus, Ao'nung being the last as he gave you one last look before riding his ilu.

You close your mouth, tasting blood before you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. "Candy-ass bitch" you mutter to yourself.

You were only brought out from your reverie when you hear the familiar screech of an ikran.

Well, shit

" What was the one thing I asked? "

You huffed, clutching your side. "Stay out of trouble" you say with Lo'ak.

"Stay out of trouble" your Dad repeats for emphasis.

You see Neteyam stepping forward. "Dad, it was my fault"

"No, I don't think so, you gotta stop taking the heat for these knuckleheads" He snapped, turning to you and Lo'ak.

You purse your lips, hesitating before stepping forward "Dad- S-Sir, Ao'nung was picking on Kiri" You try to explain.

"He called her a freak, they picked on Y/N too!, they pushed her around!"

"Lo'ak you asshole!" You shout at Lo'ak, your temper rising once more.

"Hey!" Jake yells, making you flinch, your ears ringing at the volume nowhere near matching your voice, it ceased another impending argument. "What were you thinking? Neteyam, how could you let this happen?"

"Sir, things just got out of hand"

"Bullshit" He says, shaking his head. "If you had handled the fight early on, if you handled it properly we could've stopped this from ever happenning, do you see that?"

Neteyam nods, staring at the floor.

Jake snaps his fingers repeatedly. "Do you see what i'm talking about Neteyam??"

"Yes, sir" He finally says, seeing his eyes blink like rapid-fire.

"Don't even get me started on the two of you" Jake complains, pointing a finger at you and Lo'ak, swinging like a pendulum, eyes landing on your twin brother. "You hit them first! You never hit- what do I always say? "

"Never hit first or else you're no better than them"

"Exactly!" Jake exclaims. "What did you do? Did you listen to me?"

Lo'ak shook his head. "No"

"No, because you never listen do you?"

Lo'ak's ears droop, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jake looks at you and you look at him, trying to push down any iota of fear you had within you. "Christ Y/N, where do I even begin with you"

"Maybe the part where Ao'nung and-"

"-No, you don't get to talk!" He boomed, rounding on you and you quickly avert your eyes. "You don't get to talk! not after what you said to him, the Olo'eyktan's son! Do you forget who he is Y/N? The chief's son!"

"I get it, Dad" You insist, staring at the floor.

"Another word from you and you're grounded for a week" He threatens. "is this really the shit you wanna pull???"q He asks, shouting at your face as you pursed your lips together, an attempt at stopping the tears that threatened to fall. "You're lucky if the Tsahík ever lets you step a foot on the beach again!"

"Well that son of a bitch deserved it" You said bravely.

"I don't care if he did or not, you are in the wrong, you need to see that"

"Dad, she was only trying to-"

"-zip it" He tells Neteyam. "I expected this shit from your bothers but never from you, never you, now you- you went out there and proved me wrong... what do you gotta say for yourself?"

You remained silent and you heard him hum. "That's what I thought"

His flick upwards to your bleeding temple, your bruised face and suddenly he starts remembering that stormy night. "You pulled a goddamn knife to his neck, Y/N, a knife! Are you insane? "

Your own father calling you insane was worse than any blows you had to endure from those boys.

Neytiri enters the hut, walking up to you. "Ma Jake, she gets it, please stop" She says, placing her hand on your shoulder before you shrug it away harshly.

"That's the problem, she dosen't does she?, she never thinks it through, punch first questions later, isn't that right?" He taunts, looking at you, still maintaining a shit poker face. "I can't believe you" He tells you whilst shaking his head in disapproval, that's when your lower lip starts to tremor and your throat start to to cave in.

"You have no idea how disappointed I am of you" He says to the three of you, his tail swishing in the air in frustration. "Most especially you " He tells you, feeling your stomach sink, your eyes start to fog up.

"Go apologise to Ao'nung, both of you"

"What?" Lo'ak retaliates.

"I don't care how you do it, just go and make peace"

Lo'ak heads out first, walking down the steps and onto the beach.

"So what'd the other guys look like?" Jake asks Neteyam.

"Worse"

Jake nods. "Good"

"A lot worse" You hear Neteyam say as you had your back against your Dad, knowing you weren't leaving the hut to apologise to Ao'nung. Turning towards the forest when you see Ronal and Tonowari out on the beach, talking to Ao'nung's friends and hearing the words "have you seen him around-?" before their conversation deemed too incoherent to decipher.

Your chest felt too tight, your eyes felt too hot, your back ached, your head was spinning. You had found yourself hiding in a secluded part of the island, surrounded by trees and wildlife, water trickling down the stone formations that stood behind you, birds flee above your warbling and squawking, insects chirping and squeaking.

You covered your ears as you allowed the tears to spill from your eyes, curled up into a ball as you stared into the void.

You couldn't breathe.

The world was moving too fast and you couldn't catch up, your grip on it loosening.

You tried forgetting the words your Dad told you, making yourself believe that they didn't matter because he was just angry and he only wanted to look out for you, but you couldn't, your mind was sealed shut and nothing came in or out.

You were spiraling now.

You couldn't breathe, your lungs felt like they were set on fire

Suddenly your mind started to become loud. So loud that it made you wonder where the sound was coming from, you were alone weren't you?

Was it all just happenning inside your head?

That's the problem, she dosen't does she?, she never thinks it through, punch first questions later, isn't that right?

You remember his voice, how he mocked you, how he taunted you.

Are you insane?

You shut your eyes tight, shaking your head, convincing yourself that this was all in your head.

You have no idea how disappointed I am of you, especially you.

"Stop" you tell the disembodied voice, keeping your hands clasped tightly over your ears "You aren't real, you aren't real"

"Who isn't real?"

You whirl your head at lightning speed, almost giving yourself a whiplash in the process, there, just a few steps away from you was Ao'nung, all battered and bruised, standing behind a stream of sunlight.

You stand up abruptly. "Go away" you tell him, turning around to face the rock formation, wiping your tears away.

He stands there for a moment, just looking at you, seeing the wet trails on your cheeks before you so hurriedly turn away from him. "I'm not here to taunt you, Forest Girl" He tells you.

You hum, turning back around. "I don't believe you"

He stepped forward now, directly into the sunlight, highlighting his bruises the shape of golfballs, his eyes turning into a shade of blue you never knew existed. "Fine, believe what you want to" he sighed.

"Have you come to laugh at me?"

He throws his arms in the air only to have them land on either side of his hips with a thwack. "Eywa, were you not just listening to me talk?"

"I'm afraid I hadn't been paying attention to you at all" you confessed dryly.

He gives you a look. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I like looking at rocks"

"You lie" He muttered.

"No I don't"

"Are too"

"I really like how they're so grey"

He raises his eyebrows at you. "Tell me the truth, Forest Girl"

"I wanted to be alone" You say. "I don't like the beach, I don't like the Marui, I wanted some place where it felt like everything was still simple, even when it's not"

Then, a brief moment of silence.

Ao'nung looks around, there were the trees, the grass, the flowers, the insects, the shrubs, the plants.

"I understand" He says, shocking you to your very core. "You are an outsider, you do not belong here in Awa'tlu"

You couldn't help the snuff that comes out of your nose. "Thanks"

"But my people use this trail often," He explained. "you will not feel at peace here"

You stay silent, thinking about what he said, how he said it, how he's behaving, no signs of hostility, or resentment, his parents have sent him away to apologise to you, that much you know.

"Your parents are finding you, you know" He tells you after a moment.

"So are yours" you tell him, recalling the moment you saw Ronal and Tonowari, talking to his other friends to know if they've spotted him or not. "You should go back"

"So should you" He bounces back.

Then, in the distance, you hear his friends calling for him, both of you turning towards the sound.

"Hey," you say, turning to him. "Do me a solid and don't lead them here okay? I'm too tired for another fight, as much as I want to beat your dim friends to a pulp I can't afford another screwup"

He stops in his tracks for a moment before he nods at you. "I wasn't going to" He says, making your eyebrows knit at the middle. "But fine, don't think I'll let you off so easy next time"

"I doubt you won't"

He turns his head back to the way he came. "I'm here! I'm here! Stay where you are I'm coming to you" He shouts before beginning to push past the overgrown leaves that was blocking the path. It addles you when you see him stop walking. "By the way, i've never met someone, let alone a girl, that can put up a fight as well as you did"

You giggle through your nose, a smile cracking on his face before he leaves you alone.

You didn't apologise to him like your father had wanted but at least it was an entire conversation where not one of you tried to spite eachother.

You kept avoiding him during lessons which was hard considering Tsireya insists that you and him were a pair already.

So far today was just practicing the transition from holding your breath for long periods under water and learning how to regain your breathe once your ilu leaps out of the water and back again, sticking mostly to your big brother than usual.

Also the fact that Ao'nung and Lo'ak still kept sending death glares to eachother during training was another highlight you've yet to mention, it got so bad that Tsireya had to dismiss all of you two hours early saying that all of your siblings did good, and that you deserved the rest of the day off.

You slap the back of Lo'ak's head. "You're doing it again"

"What do you mean?"

"Quit staring at him, it's distracting" Neteyam says.

"Jesus Lo, just rip off eachother's clothes and hit it in the sack already"

He stood up from his seat, pointing a finger at you. "You're messed up"

You giggle at him as he walks off, you turn to Neteyam who sat beside you, remaining quiet.

"Is dad talking to you yet?"

You shook your head, brushing sand off your feet as you and him sit by the roots. "No, I doubt he ever will"

"Chin up baby sis" He tells you, hooking an arm around your shoulder, shaking you gently. "It has only been two days, I'm sure he will come around"

"If it was you maybe" you tell him before squinting at the beach, watching the whitecaps forming in the horizon. "You and Lo'ak have Dad, say what you want but I know Dad always wanted two boys, Mom has Kiri and Tuk, me, I'm just... I'm not like you, 'Teyam" You found yourself saying, looking at him now. "I cheated my way out of death, became an Avatar, Kiri and I aren't your siblings by blood but at least she was born Na'vi-"

"-It dosen't seem that different to me" Neteyam interrupted you. "I always saw you as my sister, even if you only reached up to my waist when we were kids, even if you had no tail, no fangs, none of that mattered to me... so what if you look a little different now? You've always been Y/N, you've always been my little sister"

Silence ensues as the wind blew in from the sea.

"Shit Neteyam" You finally laugh, looking at the tree tops above you so that the tears that threatened to brim your eyes would somehow fall back in. "It's only 4 pm, damn you"

He cackles, pulling you closer to him until you finally just scoot over, resting your head on his shoulder. Watching the swell of the waves, lapping up at the sand before falling back into the ocean, watching as fishermen cast their nets into the water, children swimming after eachother, hearing the faint yelps of ilus in the background.

You sit there for a few minutes, possibly even half an hour, before Neteyam stands up saying he'll go check up on Kiri and Tuk and see if their Marui was still standing, and with that you are left to your own devices. You begin to hate the quiet and so you stand up and start walking into the lush fauna Awa'atlu had to offer, dancing past moss covered rocks, avoiding skittish insects crawling about. You hear a twig snap behind you, your ears perk up, and a cold feeling washes over your back, your fingers wrap themselves around the hilt of your dagger as you began walking deeper into the forest, staying light on your feet as you hear the rustling grow louder.

You swerve behind a waterfall and start running, slipping in and out of trees, ducking over overgrown branches until you bump into a teal wall of flesh, the impact was so hard you practically bounced off of eachother.

"What the hell do you think you're trying to pull?"

Ao'nung shows you his palms. "Take it easy, no need to get angry again"

"Were you the one following me?" You pressed.

"Yes, until you started running which made me have to run after you"

You abandon your fighting stance, standing up straighter. "Is this some sick joke?"

You see him scratch the side of his mouth. "I realized I never apologised to you... for- for the fight"

"I thought you'd have forgotten it by now"

"Pretty hard not to" He laughed. "I got an earful once I came back home, couldn't stop thinking about it ever since, I even lost sleep because of it"

"My deepest sympathies" You droned.

"I guess I just wanna say that I am sorry" Ao'nung mutters. "For hitting you"

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you look around, hearing yourself up for an apology. "I'm sorry too... for hitting you, i'm sorry that you deserved it, i hoped it hurt"

He blinked.

"Also sorry for calling you all those names, sorry for talking about you behind your back, sorry for shit talking you in front of my parents-"

He stops you with his hand. "-what?"

"Yeah"

"Fine, apology accepted" He replied gruffly, half-shrugging. "Now come on, I want to show you something"

"Like hell i'm going to follow you anywhere"

"I'm not going to murder you if that's what you're so worried about"

"Why don't I believe you?" You sassed, raising a lone eyebrow at him.

"I never asked you to believe, I only want you to trust me"

It made you think. "If I trust you, I need to believe that you won't cause me any harm, to trust is to believe"

"It works both ways Forest Girl" you could tell he was getting tired of your technicality.

Huh. "I suppose you are right"

"Are you coming or not?" He calls after you, already several steps away.

You follow him in silence, praying to Eywa he was being true to his word and was not in fact leading you to your death. The pair of you finally reach the end of the forest, a secluded beach, you see him walk all the way to the edge of the water where he called on his ilu, urging you to do the same. You called on Hinewai and you saddled her waiting for further instructions from Ao'nung, when he starts moving forward so do you, when he stops by a huge rock formation covered with palm trees and lush flowers you stop too.

"We have to swim from this point forward" He tells you, jumping off his ilu and sending it off.

You cautiously jump off yours, making a splash as your body hit the water. "I will even race you" He says.

"What are we, 10?"

He half-shrugs, giving you a boyish smile. "Take it as a practice drill"

He dives down and so do you, following him deeper, and deeper also while trying to beat him there, wherever there was. The huge rock formation had stretched down farther than you had hoped, when you spot the hole and watched Ao'ning swim inside, you were having second thoughts about following him in, but your competitiveness took over you and you pursued him, swimming faster so that you could catch up to him. He began swimming upwards, and so do you, propelling yourself as quick as you could so that you'd be head to head, your chest was starting to tighten again and you felt like his was as well, so it was a race to the top.

After what felt like hours you resurfaced and took a huge intake of breath, beating Ao'nung by mere seconds.

"Hah! Take that!" You exclaimed, hooting and cackling as your laughter bounces off the walls of the cave which were covered in bioluminescent bugs resembling Teylu, casting the cave in a soft blueish hue.

"Where are you??" He asks, whirling his head around.

"I'm right here dumbass!" You say, splashing the water which catches his attention.

He laughed loud, wiping his face of water. "I can't see a thing! Can you see?"

You giggled, throwing your head back. "Yeah, yeah! I can see! I see you!"

You both freeze, your splashing had ceased and you both just floated here, staring at eachother's hazy faces in the dark.

"Uhm-" He starts, scratching his head.

"Should i-"

"No-! Yes-! Go ahead"

You swim out of the water, propping yourselves onto the rough rock, he gestures you to follow him deeper into the cave and he stops walking, sticking his back towards the wall and pointing his chin at the most magnificent thing you've ever laid your eyes on.

Your jaw drops to your feet as you marveled at the sight before you.

"Holy fuck" you say.

AAAAAND THAT'S PART 2! The fight scene was incredibly fun to write as you can see I kinda lengthened it just cuz I had the creative freedom, also the scene with Jake, Neteyam, and Lo'ak gotta have some angst in this chapter, even though there's more coming in the suceeding parts. Anyways!!!! I hope you enjoyed! <3

[starmieknight]

The Sands Will Rise

Chapter One

The library looked like a natural disaster. And at its epicenter was a familiar face.

Bernice made a quiet noise of dismay as she took in the damage, her heart sinking.

"Oh, Ford." she sighed. "Not again."

Ford rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he turned to face her. His glasses were crooked and his normally wild hair was even more unruly than usual.

"I'm not entirely certain what just happened." he confessed with honest confusion. "I was just putting away some of the books I used for my research. Replacing multiple books on the same level seemed more time efficient."

That… that made sense. As to why the library was in shambles. It was fairly easy to picture Ford knocking down the shelves like dominos as he tried to reach across the aisle to replace a book.

"And more time consuming for me." Bernice mumbled miserably. She pushed her glasses up and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling her eyes begin to sting with frustration. She already knew how this would end. 

Ford may get scolded for the accident, but their boss would never expect him to clean up the mess as long as she was around.

Women's work, as he liked to call it.

Bernice gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry over the situation. Crying never got her anywhere, so what was the point?

Stanley clapped a hand on her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze before pushing forward through the mess.

"You ain't hurt, are ya?" he asked his brother, nearly slipping on the loose books before reaching him.

"No, I'm fine." Ford began, only to cut himself off with a yelp as his twin smacked him upside the head. He looked at his brother with betrayal.

"Good." Stanley rolled his eyes at the dramatics. "That was for scaring me and Bugsy here."

Ford looked over his mess with dawning comprehension, his shoulders drooping. 

“Oh, dear. Bernice, I―” he groaned before frowning in confusion. "Hang on ― Bugsy?"

Bernice scowled and fixed Stanley with an irate expression, but her chance to scold him was interrupted by a familiar voice ringing through the air like a death bell.

Bernice and Ford shared a horrified look as their boss entered the room.

"Wha―" Ivan stammered, hands going to his head as he looked over the mess. "How?"

Bernice might have felt sorry for the man if he wasn’t constantly denying her requests to join a field expedition. She wasn’t even allowed to go as an observer. Sometimes, she thought Ivan would keep Ford in the museum with her if given the chance. He did all he could to leash the young researcher to the projects that would best benefit the museum. All of the obscure and more outlandish legends Ford was most interested in were all but off-limits to him if their boss was in charge of planning digs.

It was terribly boring work for Bernice ― she could only imagine how stifled Ford felt.

"My bad." Stanley said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. He grinned as he crouched down and began stacking books. "Don't know my own strength sometimes."

They held their breath as they waited to see if the curator would take the bait.

"Sons of the pharaohs!” Ivan groaned, throwing his hands up. The veins at his temples throbbed visibly. "Give me frogs! Flies! Locusts! Anything but Stanley Pines in my museum! Compared to you, the other plagues were a joy!"

Stanley wore an appropriately chastised expression, but Bernice could see some genuine hurt in his eyes at Ivan's words. He looked like a puppy, one that had been kicked into the gutter and left to drown in the rain. Maybe it was the long hair that reminded her of a poodle, but she felt the expression tug at her heartstrings.

After all, he wasn’t actually the one who caused the accident. He was just the one taking the blame for it. But Ivan didn’t even seem to question the situation. He was ready to accept that the mess was Stanley’s fault and eager to spew vitriol in his face. Like he’d been waiting for the opportunity.

"Sir, it was just an accident." Bernice stepped in front of the twins, wondering what had gotten into her. After all, Stanley had introduced himself by trying to scare her to death. One sad look later and she was defending him from her boss? Boy, what a pair of puppy dog eyes could do to her… "I'm sure nothing was harmed―"

"Miss Bonner, when I want your opinion, I'll ask for it.” Ivan cut her off coldly, his hairless brow wrinkled like one of the mummies from the exhibit. “Now, be silent if you will."

What.

Her eyes were stinging again, this time fueled by anger instead of frustration. Were her tear ducts just wired wrong? Why did her body feel the need to cry so much?

"Hey, now!" Stanley rose to his feet, frowning irritably. His dark eyes were flashing in the warm light of the library. "Don't get nasty with her, bub."

"I can speak to Miss Bonner in any way I see fit.” Ivan waved a hand at him dismissively. “She is my employee and should know her place. You ought to learn the same. I don't even know why I put up with you being in my museum in the first place."

"Because," Ford cut in coldly as he moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his twin. "If Stanley wasn't allowed at this museum I would quit and work somewhere else. Good luck finding another archaeologist and cartographer of my caliber. Though, it wouldn't be so hard if you simply opened your eyes to Bernice's capabilities. We do have the same credentials, after all."

Bernice grinned at the twins, glad that Ford was willing to validate her efforts. It was nice to hear her being acknowledged for her brains for once instead of her ability to clean and organize.

Ivan spluttered at the unexpected fury from his best asset.

"You know perfectly well why you are more valuable than Miss Bonner, Stanford!" he snapped. "I can hardly be expected to send a woman out into the field! My museum would become a laughing stock if I even considered allowing her to accompany an expedition."

Bernice tried not to let her devastation show at the admittance. Though she didn't want to admit it, she'd always known now Ivan felt about her. It was the same way most men in their field thought of her. For all her education and passion about their work, she was nothing more than an over-educated librarian with a pretty face in the eyes of the Bembridge scholars. There was never going to be a chance for her to get into the field and make her own discoveries as long as she worked in this museum.

She just wanted to get out there (just once!) and be able to unravel the history and make the connections herself. And it was about time she went and did something about it.

"Well then," she said, drawing Ford and Ivan's attention back to her. Belatedly, she realized that Stanley had been watching her all along. She grinned up at him before facing her boss head on. "If that's the case, I believe my services are no longer required. I quit."

She didn’t know where she’d go from there, but anywhere had to be better than slowly becoming one of the mummies she worked with in that dry, dusty museum.

She’d worry about it later, preferably over a nice glass of wine. Or three.

Ivan spluttered. "But― but, who will clean up this mess?!"

"Clean it up yourself!" Ford suggested cheerfully, as he and his brother moved to stand on either side of Bernice. He threw his arm around Bernice's shoulders and Stanley copied the action, the Pines Twins like sentinels around her. "I quit as well!"

Bernice looked up at her friend in surprise. She’d always known Ford was a good man at heart and a good friend when he wasn’t stuck in his own head, but she didn’t expect him to quit his job just because she did. He was on the fast track to fame and recognition here if he stuck with Ivan.

But perhaps that was part of the problem ― Ford had big dreams. He had to know that staying under Ivan’s thumb wouldn’t get him anywhere in the end.

And Ivan had just lost his best chance at getting that recognition for himself. Bernice and Ford had been the cornerstones of his staff and now his structure was crumbling around his ears.

Despite her sudden unemployment, Bernice couldn't help but laugh at the gobsmacked expression on Ivan's face. From the way her whole body was shaking, the twins were laughing with her.

[quietlyimplode]

Clintasha Advent (3)

Prompt: Maybe like a mixture of making own holiday traditions and no where to go, with Clint/Nat or Maria/Nat (your choice !!).

For/Prompter: @emmeywemmy (sorry couldn’t decide on which pairing so it became all of them.. <3)

Warnings: childhood stories but nothing graphic

Word count: 770

A/N: I may not continue posting daily, but will do as many as I can <3

——

“Never have I ever,” Maria starts, bouncing the ball over to Clint.

“No,” he vetos, “with the two of you playing, I’ll lose, get drunk and then who knows what you’ll go.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Natasha supplies, Clint bouncing the ball over to her.

“Boring,” Maria tells her.

“Hangman?”

The ball moves from Maria to Clint again, as Clint and Natasha share a look.

“No hangman, no tic tac toe,” he says, saying what Natasha is thinking.

“I’m out of ideas,” he groans, throwing the ball.

“Stories?” Natasha asks, bouncing the ball across.

“I don’t know how to play that,” Maria tells her, even though it’s met with a laugh from the red head.

Clint passes the ball.

“No,” Natasha says, “like we just tell some stories.”

Maria sits up intrigued.

Natasha never wants to tell stories about herself.

“Like two truths and a lie?” Clint clarifies.

Natasha shrugs.

“Sure we can play like that.”

The church bell rings, and Clint stops talking, wishing they weren’t hiding out in the middle of a church on one of its busiest days of the year.

The ball moves from Natasha to Maria and they wait for it to finish it’s song.

“Okay, two truths an a lie, do you want to go first?”

Natasha throws the ball back at him; hard, reversing the chain.

“Ow-hey, what? You came up with the game,” he defends.

“You go first,” she says with a huff.

“Okay fine,” he twirls the ball in his hand.

“I can draw, I have a middle name, I’m allergic to legumes,” he says, throwing the ball to Maria.

“Legumes?”

“You can’t draw?”

The refutes come together and he shrugs.

“Chose one.”

Maria and Natasha look at each other, unspoken in their communication.

“Drawing,” they say simultaneously.

Clint shakes his head.

“Legumes.”

Natasha frowns.

The ball back to Maria gives her the next turn.

“I can’t feel a portion of my leg, my mother named me after her, I visit a cemetery every Christmas.”

Clint and Natasha stare.

The game feeling oddly personal now.

“Sorry,” Maria apologises, feeling like she’s stepped over a line.

“No,” Clint refutes.

“Your mother?” Natasha tries, to which Clint nods in agreement.

Maria nods.

“Yeah, too easy.”

“Who do you visit?” Natasha asks.

It’s usually Clint whose the one to ask personal questions, but the untold story draws Natasha in.

“My brother,” Maria sighs, “he was a force. The one who’d make family gatherings worth it. KIA. I’ll visit when we get home. He won’t mind a couple of days being late,” she finishes.

The matter of family and siblings sends both Natasha and Clint quiet.

“I learnt English in Ohio, I’m immune to a black widow bite, I once licked a frog to seduce a mark.”

The last one throws Clint hard.

“Just when I think I know all the things about you,” he laughs.

Natasha is far too quick.

“Barton, you’ll never know everything about me,” she blinks slowly.

“Stop flirting,” Maria laughs, catching the ball Matasha throws.

Clint likes his tongue out.

“Clearly, it’s the black widow bite,” Maria guesses.

Natasha shakes her head.

“Nope, they named us after black widows, it was one of the things they made us immune to,” she nods.

“The frog then?” Clint guesses.

“Nope,” Natasha shakes her her.

“Ohio?” they both guess, simultaneously.

Natasha nods.

“I learnt on Russia, on American cartoons.”

Pieces fall into place for Clint.

“Oh that’s why you don’t like Disney Classics.”

Natasha nods.

Clint feels sadness roll over him that his favourite classics are tainted, and likely he’ll never get to share them with his best friend.

The ball passes to Maria.

“My go again?”

Clint nods.

“We should just make a run for it,” she tells the other two.

“You’re turn,” Natasha says insistently, clearly having fun.

“It’s the 23rd of December, how about, next year we do more?” She avoids.

She’s lucky really, the mark enters the church and Maria turns into the militaristic personality that Natasha doesn’t love.

The parabolic mic is directioned to the meeting and Natasha watches the recording commitment.

Clint already in position to shoot, his finger on the trigger as they all listen to the rhetoric and hate speech.

Maria’s voice is low.

“Next year,” she whispers.

“We’ll play again next year.”

1/ Clint/Nat/Laura + traditions

2/ clintasha + temporary blindness

[starry-blue-echoes]

Concept: instead of Jonathan being Star Platinum... he is Gold Experience

People draw parallels between him and Star Platinum but he and GE share some similarities too! The golden light that comes from using their powers and the ability to manipulate plantlife.

Also the mass amounts of frogs GE seems to like making could be a callback to Jonathan's interest in frogs

Just picturing Jonathan not knowing who little Haruno is or why he's stuck with the kid, but he makes the best of the situation and keeps doing his best to protect him and keep him company and look I made you a frog friend, please don't be sad!

And then one day Giorno finds a picture of his father.

OOOOOOOOOO Y E S S S S S S S

And what if unlike the Jonaplat AU Jonathan’s awakening, like Giorno’s power in canon, is more gradual. First he’s in a sort of void. He can’t speak and can’t see, but he can Feel. Fear and pain mostly, but occasionally mixed in with a spike of terror and hopelessness, and VERY rarely a small bubble of happiness or curiosity. Occasionally he tries sending over bits of happiness and comfort. He can’t see the results, but for Giorno it comes in the form of beautiful flowers in the sidewalk or a particularly friendly butterfly or some overgrown grass to hide someone

Jonathan isn't sure how long he spent in that strange void with nothing but the emotions of a stranger to keep him company. But then one day the he reaches out to give comfort..... he feels something different.

He feels something physical.

And he pushes further. He’d almost forgotten what touch like this was like, and he can’t loose it, he can’t-

And then he’s back to reality with a small black haired boy looking at him with wide, bright blue eyes

And the first thing Jonathan does with his new found freedom is give that boy a hug

Things would definitely be interesting during the first couple months. While Jonathan had always wanted to be a father, he’s still never done it before. There’s also the minor issue of how he can’t go more than a couple feet from said child. But he does his best to make it work.

There is a..... small bump in the road when Giorno finds Dio’s picture. There were a lot of conflicting emotions that Giorno couldn’t understand and Jonathan couldn’t even begin to articulate. He doesn’t have a voice anymore, and even if he did he doesn’t want to dump all this on a small, innocent child who doesn’t even know what’s happening. There’s also the fun bit where Jonathan could connect the dots with Giorno having the Joestar birthmark and the neck scar Dio has in the photo and realize this is technically his biological kid

But over all Giorno’s life is definitely better than before. Jonathan unfortunately can’t do too much to Giorno’s step father, after all the boy needs a roof over his head, and any subtle inconveniences Jonathan could do toward the man would just cause him to lash out at Giorno. The best he can do is defend the boy from the attacks and do what he can to keep him fed and happy. At the very least he still has his size and strength, so that first part wasn’t too difficult. The second part though..... not so easy

I’d imagine the two spent a lot of time in the local library for various reasons. Things like nutrition and various types of plants and animals, but also to learn sign language so they can talk :D

Jonathan is going to be ridiculously protective though, and definitely disapproving of the mafia plan. Not because of his goals, no Jonathan’s extremely proud of him for that, he’s just upset that Giorno has to put himself in harms way like that.

[levy120]

Burn Your Bridges

[PART 1: Foreign]

[PART 2: Advertisement]

[PART 3: Blood Money]

[PART 4: Tit for Tat]

Rating: PG

Words: 2300

Genre: Introspection, Character Deconstruction/Analysis, Speculation, AU

Lore: Rayman 2, Captain Laserhawk speculation

Characters: Rayman, Razorbeard, Globox, Ly

Summary: Rayman returns to the Glade.

AN: Oh look! It's an all new chapter that wasn't planned :') See also on: [dA] | now also on [ao3]

See also: [Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [You are here]

More like this: [Rayman Oneshots Masterpost]

A group of Henchmen escorts Rayman to Razorbeard where he's received... with a surprising welcome.

"Rayman!" Razorbeard says "I see Eden's been doing you good! You fine looking."

"Cut the crap," Rayman says, eliciting a tinny chuckle from Razorbeard.

"You know why I'm here."

"I know, I know," the pirate says with a hint of excitement as he hops from his seat and approaches Rayman. He eyes one of the hands hanging by his side before looking up at the Limbless with a devilish glint in his optics as he offers his own.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you." of all people.

Rayman has to hold himself back from crushing Razorbeard's hand in his palm.

---

As Razorbeard leads him down the prison ward, Rayman feels his skin crawl from the sight of the familiar walls. 

They’re just like he last saw them, lined with cages. An assortment of trapped creatures blink up at him in confused hope. Rayman’s name is a whisper in the halls. 

It's a cacophony before he knows it. Cries for help. Confusion about why he's following Razorbeard. Or looks so different.

And the endless question of why he just keeps moving along instead of setting them free.

He's avoiding his eyes, running the gauntlet. Just tries to not lose Razorbeard's trail.

Don't even think about getting lost in here. Just... don't think about it.

It was too easy to forget just how many there were still trapped upon Razorbeard's prison ship.

And Rayman is here to get just one.

His feet stop moving as the guilt comes crashing down. The disappointment he's going to leave in his wake.

He is not helping.

One slave is just a drop in the desert.

…

But it's the first drop, he thinks, clenching his fist.

Just the first step.

If he were to free them now…

He'll draw Razorbeard's anger.

Razorbeard's anger will infuriate his boss.

And his boss will call retribution in ways Rayman doesn't want to think about.

"Desolé," he breathes.

…and moves on.

---

Globox is sleeping when Rayman catches up with Razorbeard in front of his cell. Compared to his old one, Globox merely has wooden bars to keep him contained. 

He almost doesn't want to wake him.

The large frog looks rather peaceful. And maybe a little like he hasn't eaten in… a while. 

Rayman looks forward to changing that.

Razorbeard very calmly finishes spanning an umbrella and then starts lifting the wooden gate with the press of a button.

As soon as its height allows for it, Rayman slinks into his friend's cell. 

"Globox!" 

He doesn't know why, but he'd expected this to be different. For Globox to be happy to see him. But the large frog barely stirs.

"What's up with him? What did you do?!" Rayman glares at Razorbeard who merely shrugs.

"Guy's been on a diet. He's just overdramatic."

Razorbeard sees the Limbless's gaze harden and his hands ball into fists.

"Now hold your shells. He's fine. We just had to make sure he's not up to pulling his little stunt," Razorbeard points the umbrella at Rayman, "You do recognize the concept of self preservation, don't you?"

With an angry puff Rayman's attention returns to his friend, the state of which makes him deflate immediately.

He pulls the limp body into a hug, scared by how easy his weight makes it.

"It's gonna be okay," He vows, "I'm getting you out of here. You'll be fine, I promise."

After one last squeeze that elicits a slight murmur from the large frog, Rayman removes himself from Globox and steps up towards the robot.

"What about his children?"

"A deal's a deal," Razorbeard admonishes, "But I can make you a batch offer for the next time."

"But you're feeding them?!"

Razorbeard raises his hands placatingly.

"They’re… not a threat," he explains, "And don't need quite so much per mouth."

Rayman is visibly mulling over the words. His jaw locked.

"Fine," Rayman almost snaps. "I'll pay extra for you to increase their rations. Please bring him to my ship. My boss will cover all expenses."

"Aye, Aye," Razorbeard signs off almost too enthusiastically, "Before I let you two leave, would you like to see Ly? I had her brought here specifically because I knew you were coming."

"What?"

Ly was… here? On the pirate ship???

Rayman thought she'd been holding up the fort since he'd been captured! But then again, how long ago has that been?

He feels his gut churn at the mere idea of seeing her again behind bars. That's… not at all how he'd thought this would go.

"Come on. As a treat between business partners. I'll let you say hi. I'm sure she will be thrilled to see you."

Rayman hesitates but his heart is threatening to run away from him. Whether from fear or anticipation he does not know. YES he wants to see Ly again but-

"I'm not sure that's the best idea right now."

"Fine," Razorbeard remarks, "I'll tell her you weren't interested."

That's worse!!!!

"On, second thought!" Rayman rushes after the little pirate after he'd already turned to leave.

"Yes, I'd love to see Ly."

---

"Oh, Rayman! It's really you! I thought Razorbeard had sold you off!"

"I did," the Admiral pipes proudly.

"He did," Rayman confirms with a side glance at the robot casually regarding the bolts of his knuckles.

"But I'm here now!" Rayman says.

He’s up to the bars of her temporary cell. Her slender hands are reaching through to cup his cheeks and his on hands reach for hers to know she’s real. 

It makes his heart simultaneously soar and cry out. It's good to see Ly again - but she shouldn’t be behind bars. 

"What are you wearing?" she asks with amusement as she takes note of his jacket and pokes the adorable little bowtie.

"It's cute."

Something bugs her, even though she can't put her finger on it. Maybe it's the fact he's no longer sporting the sigil. It's so strange to see him without it, but then again, it's not like Ly got around to telling him why that mattered so much to her.

All in all, though, she's far too relieved to see that Rayman is doing okay, to give it too much thought.

"It's a long story," Rayman says scratching the back of his head bashfully, "It's impractical," he really misses the warmth of baggy comfort clothes or the practicality of his adventure attire, "but they're not letting me be seen in anything else."

Ly shoots him a worried look. 

Rayman talking about 'them' - and in this way - is the first time the thought manifests that he's…

...he's been gone, and not just out of sight, somewhere on the prison ship. It makes it all the more incredible he's returned though. That must have taken some trials. 

Ly wants to stay positive, but the thought of Rayman being exploited gnaws at her. He seems to have been treated well, though. No wounds - old or new - to speak off, and he holds himself well. Healthy. Fed. Physically, he's in top shape, if a little exhausted. She hasn't missed the deep-set worry lines on his brow or the (masked) bags under his eyes. 

All the better though, that now they have a chance to bring an end to this situation for good.

The fairy tugs at Rayman's hands and leans in closer. Her gaze is focusing on Razorbeard as she whispers to the Limbless.

"So what's your plan for Razorbeard? Let me know if you need a distraction. I gathered a bit of energy for you when I heard you were coming."

"Oh!" Rayman pulls back suddenly, like Ly's suggestion comes as a surprise.

"No, that's… off the table."

"What?" Now it's Ly's turn to be confused, her brow creasing as she waits for an explanation.

Rayman breathes an embarrassed sigh.

"I guess I should have led with that," he admits bashfully.

"Razorbeard has immunity. I'm here for negotiations. I can't… do anything about him."

Ly pulls back from the bars with dawning horror as she watches Rayman. Words fail her as she tries to make sense of him.

"Razorbeard is right there," she says in denial, by now indifferent whether or not the robot can hear, "You could end this… right now."

"But here's the thing," Rayman tries to explain himself. His entire being is clammy with cold, nervous sweat.

"There's a better way! My boss has connections! We can negotiate-"

"No."

Ly doesn't believe what she's hearing. Rayman - her Rayman - is conspiring with the enemy???

"I know it sounds crazy!" Rayman blurts, "I just- I'm sorry, I came for Globox first. I just thought you were still holding down the fort and you know how scared Globox is of the robots, so when I had to choose who to free first I-"

"You chose?!" Ly cuts him off and the silence that follows is deafening. 

Razorbeard chuckles and removes himself to stand on the sidelines. This is gonna be good.

"Ly, please," Rayman pleads, "It took me so long just to get here, but I promise to make this right! Razorbeard won't come after you again once you're let free! I just need a little more time and… please don't look at me like that."

But the fairy's gaze is scrutinizing. 

"You chose," she repeats with admonition, "Who gets to be free… and who has to stay here?!" 

Ly raises to her full height to glare down on Rayman.

"Where do you take the right-" she has to stop herself, starts pacing in her cell.

"Razorbeard is just over there!" She has said this before, it's unbelievable to her that it bears repeating. "You free a single soul, that you take the audacity to decide on, instead of ending this Nightmare once and for all!"

"It's more complicated than that," Rayman tries to explain, to somehow vindicate himself, but his heart isn't really in it.

"I promise, when I'm coming back, I'll get you next. We can go to Eden together."

Ly stops pacing to look at him. 

A good, long, accusing look.

"Rayman," this tone in her voice is so new to him, it's giving him chills. Ly had always been such a serene boulder in the storm. Now it's like she embodies thunder itself. 

"I am not leaving the Glade."

His breath hitches.

"This is my home. Our home!" She's adamant, "And you're dragging Globox away? To… to a place called Eden? What about his kids?! Are they supposed to grow up without a father? Don't you think he'd rather be with his family?"

Rayman flinches. He has no answer to those questions, admittedly barely thought about them in his excitement to… to do something good!

"I'm doing the right thing!" he insists, if only to convince himself. 

But he can't look Ly in the eyes, even as he says it.

The fairy's silence is deafening, but he can feel her glare without needing to search for it.

"You can't truly believe that." 

"...Fine," Rayman feels his fist shake at his side. Hot anger burns in his chest and threatens to spill. 

"Stay if you have to. But I don't see what good that would do now."

Ly cannot believe that - after all the fighting, after all they'd been through - Rayman would just trade in his home like that. 

"How can you just give up on the Glade?"

And here she thought they'd been friends. Allys. Maybe even…

"I haven't!" Rayman snaps and gets up at the bars again.

"If I had, I wouldn't be here right now!"

Ly has no right to judge him like that! After all the pain and suffering he's been through. All of his efforts will not have been for naught!

The fairy takes one hard look at him. Hurt and betrayal reflects in her eyes.

Despite all he says… he's not going to stay. She knows it now. He came back only to leave again. 

"You've changed," she says. It's in his aura too. She can see it now. It's what's been bugging her this entire time.

What used to be calm and light and filled with playful joy now vibrates with hostile anger and distrust.

"What- No! I'm still the same!"

He doesn't even see it. Ly has lost him. She doesn't know when. And she doesn't know why.

But Rayman has made one thing overwhelmingly clear.

"You say that. And still, you're going to leave again." 

Leave them behind.  

He's going to choose his new life over her. Over the Glade. This… strange world she's never before heard of that did this to him. 

And what's worse, he's going to steal Globox away from them too; in the unshakable belief that his best friend would like a place that changed Rayman into this. That broke him like this.

Globox is going to hate it.

She tries to even her own breath. Smooth out the cracks in her own heart. This anger is unbecoming of her and if she doesn't control it, it's going to consume her the same way.

It's a feeling she reserves for enemies. For robots. For Razorbeard.

…for whatever it is this new Rayman has become.

"Leave then," she capitulates.

"I will not be waiting."

"Ouchy," Razorbeard jests as he makes his way back over and pats Rayman's back, jostling his midsection. 

"She hasn't been fed yet today. I guess that makes her a little cranky. Come on, let's give the lass her wish."

Reluctantly, Rayman's feet turn as Razorbeard ushers him away, but his gaze clings to Ly until her cell disappears behind a corner.

All in all, Razorbeard considers today a raging success.

After all, the only thing better than gold or slaves

…is petty revenge.

[smallratboy]

HOW TO DRAW IN 8 EASY STEPS:

1. acquire paper and pencil

2. sit down to draw

3. put on some music to draw to (optional)

4. think about what you want to draw

5. think about what you want to draw

6. find an idea for what you want to draw

7. look up references

8. get distracted

9. internet

10. realize an hours gone by and you haven’t done anything

11. abandon everything and go live in the woods with the mushrooms and frogs

congratulations! you are now an artist!

[amazing-spiderling]

for the fandom ask game: 5 6 11 16 23 24

something you see in fics a lot and love

I really love seeing Foggy sort of leap-frogging over his panic and anger and confusion in moments of crisis to get right to the part where he works on being helpful. That, "We are going to fight about this later, but right now I need to stop that bleeding" sort of thing. Foggy is absolutely allowed to have emotions and fall apart in a crisis, but he has a good head on his shoulders and certainly after a certain point he's had to learn to compartmentalize just to survive being in Matt's life. I think it's comforting to imagine having a friend or partner like that- I guess it speaks to the idea of there always being an undercurrent of love. No matter what else is going on in the moment, no matter how furious or scared or worried the events taking place right now make them, they do not supplant the love that is at the basis of the relationship. I just think that's neat.

something you see in art a lot and love

When artists really have fun with the clothing, paying attention to details and making things really specific. When someone really pays attention to drawing a certain kind of shoe- I'm just... yeah, that's the good stuff. :)

if you’re a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

Well, I'm a little bit of both- but I guess a fic sprang to mind first so I'll answer for that. (tw for fictional CSA mention btw) So, as I've not-so-casually mentioned, one of my first big/long term fandoms was Metal Gear Solid. And I know that some of the memes from that series have escaped containment, and to the outsiders it might look like "Call of Duty but with the occasional zany moment" but it does have a lot of story (too much, some might say XD) and intricate character relationships and lore and, ugh it's just SUCH fertile ground for art and fic and all the things that make fandom great. But, it *does* also very much appeal to gamer dudes of the usual type. And normally this is fine, the transformative fans and the archival fans largely keep to their own fandom spaces- but sometimes there is crossover that rubs one group or the other the wrong way.

One such case is that there is a character who has an "affair" with his step-mother, but I put that in quotes because when the dust settles, it turns out this happened when the character in question was 16. There is TERRIBLE fallout from the event (family trauma, suicide, estrangement) and the game plays it all straight- this is something that broke the already fragile family to pieces. BUT for a long time, the joke was "haha character banged his stepmom". Which. Ew.

Anyways, I always really wanted to write a story that sort of expanded on those events, not the actual relationship/abuse/fallout, but more the events that precluded it, mostly what made the character an easy target. (Isolation, otherness, a lack of confidence in who they were as an individual). Basically, I wanted to really tell a story that treated the matter with the needed level of seriousness, if only to say, "hey, this isn't a punchline, this is a traumatic experience".

I ended up watching, "The Graduate" a few times as sort of... research? Partially for tone, partially because the themes and characterization in that movie matched the vibe I was trying to go for in my own story. (I can't help but think that Kojima, known for referencing movies in his games- might have had it in mind due to some shared imagery.) This was maybe the first time I did something like that, watching a movie to pick it apart for nuance in tone, as opposed to looking at it for canon events, timelines etc.

So that story ended up being, "Surface Tension", which first appeared in the "Metal Gear Solid: Lost Years" zine, and then eventually got posted to AO3. It's not my best reviewed fic by a long shot (understandably, it's a difficult subject material and not shippy or anything), but it's one that I can say I am proud of.

a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

Wow, this one is tricky for me- I feel like a lot of fans are way more detail oriented than I am when it comes to canon. I'm always the one in awe when people are like, "Oh in episode seven, this one song is playing in a car as it drives by, and that's significant because it came out in 2013 and that was the year that..." and i'm just like "you guys know the names of songs?"

I guess to that end- I always liked the line in, I think it's season 1 where Matt says it's a "90's Top 40" kind of guy. I think it's really funny because people characterize him as having... well, let's just say "better" musical taste, but like, no. That dude would bop his head if you played the Spin Doctors.

the fandom you’re curious about because of a mutual

I have no idea what's going on in the Trolls fandom, and at this point I'm afraid to ask. But they all look like they're having a great time.

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

I've made so many friends, and as someone who doesn't get out as much as I'd like (especially as an immunocompromised person in the middle of a pandemic), my fandom friends are so, so important to me. I love the feeling of having a group of people who love the thing I love and being able to waltz into a space and say, "Hey, who wants to do this crazy thing with me?" and have even a few people say "Yeah, let's fucking GOOOO". ^^

I also think I wouldn't write nearly as much if it wasn't for fandom, and writing has certainly gone a long way towards helping me become better at unraveling the balls of yarn in my brain and making them into sweaters and scarves, as it were. I think a lot of the time when you write, you're practicing empathy- because you're forcing yourself to see the world from someone else's perspective. Maybe the character you're writing about had something in common with you, maybe that's what drew you to them in the first place, but identifying that also helps you understand more about yourself *and* how you relate to others. So I like to think that writing has helped me relate better to other people, even the ones I disagree with, and made me more able to slow down and ask, "well, why does this person feel/think that way?" Storytelling is so important for a lot of reasons, but that's a big one for me.

[steeltempura]

Random thoughts about improvement and attaining your goals :

Practicing a new skill is Hard. Improvement is Slow and we tend to give ourselves objectives that seem so far away from everything we're able to do.

Its a mean to motivate us at first, but as we encounter unexpected difficulties along the way we realise the path might be longer or harder than we first thought, and often this ends up being discouraging.

But we're actually chasing chimeras. As we improve at something, our objectives naturally become bigger, we want to be more efficient, faster, better, we want to be just like this artist we look up too, or as fast as that co-worker, etc, etc

This is obviously a natural way too look at things, but it often make us forget about the here and now, and blinds us to the thousands of little steps we take as we climb toward our next objective, shining in the distance.

We can draw satisfaction from individual successes, yes, we can end a day feeling like we did improve, or learn to do something new, but still, we're often blind to the sum of all these nuggets of knowledge, accumulated from overcoming all of the small obstacles in our way. All the muscle memory we build, all the reflexes we acquire, all the methods we learn, all the habits we develop : we often ignore them, or we tend to diminish them. "Oh yeah I can do that, but its only because I've actually a trick, Its not that fancy" or "well I know how to make It, but I don't know how to make it Perfectly" or even "no, I really don't know what I'm doing, I just followed a Tutorial / been in this situation before".

The thing is, it doesn't matter how legitimate you are, where your knowledge comes from or why you can do a particular thing.

What matters is that you can now do things you couldn't previously. Or you may be faster. Or you may be more efficient.

And we don't have many opportunities to look Back instead of looking up - what we know now seems obvious to us, of course its easy now that's its in our grasp, it wasn't even that hard to begin with, and yet we struggled so hard before, we really were pretty bad at this - NO. Everyone has to start somewhere, and you. made. progress. It is undeniable.

But getting the full measure of your incremental progress is hard, of course. Its easy to forget the struggles of the past, its easy to belittle the actual improvements, when we're focusing on our long term goals, shining brighter than any of the sparkles we're able to produce on our own, and illuminating all the flaws in our work, and thats it, we're only able to see them now, and we lost track yet again of the path we climbed to get there.

We're like frogs being slowly boiled alive, except the warming water is our slow progression toward the hot bath we're dreaming of.

So it might help to try, if just for a moment, to try and remember when you started.

To remind yourself that whatever path you took to get where you hard, however easy it was, even if it felt like cheating, you're there now.

To try and explain to a complete beginner, image of what you were, concepts or skills that you now find painfully obvious, and acknowledge that they used not to be.

Because this frog once didn't even know water was wet, before being plunged in it.

[solusmandalor]

The armored suit absorbs the impact of his prey's insistent shots and while he can feel welts already forming from taking bullets from such a close range, Din follows, stalking behind with all the grace and patience of a wolf sure in his victory.

“Look,” the mark says, when he notices that he'd wasted his bullets on the Beskar steel. “Maybe we can come to an understanding, Mando.” A pathetic attempt at bribery.

Din lets him think he’s won his attention anyway. “How much do they pay you? I will double, no, triple the amount!”

Din clenches his jaw against the disgust that burns at the back of his throat. “What do you say, Mando? I mean, come on... I am sure you've got a heart left for-”

“I’ve also got a gun,” he interrupts and before his target can cobble some pathetic excuse together or draw a knife on him, the Mandalorian is pointing the barrel of his weapon at the man’s face and saying: “No.” The mark struggles against him. They all do.

Din takes him in cold and leaves him dying in the middle of Boba’s garage, lifeless eyes staring up at the very owner and mob boss that had hired him. Din leaves. Unsullied, unbroken.

He’s vaguely aware of being handed a bag on his way out and is sent home much richer than before, but it’s a vague memory, swept away by the adrenaline still pounding through his veins. The ride back home on his bike is lost to him, and by the time his boots hit the ground once more he's twitchy and wound up. Din had hoped the fight would have exhausted him more, taken more from him so he wouldn't return this way, but the mark was easy— easier than he expected. It leaves him restless, itching to do something as he ascends the steps of his home and slips inside the little apartment, helmet pulled off.

“He’s not asleep yet?” Din wonders as he enters the living room area, only to see his son still wide awake watching yet another frog documentary with his occasional babysitter Kuill. “He wouldn't go to bed. Insisted on waiting for you, no matter what”, the older man explains. He had offered to look after the child for Din once in a while, even though Din had never actually told him about his rather dubious night job, Kuill seemed to know more than he let on, and much less cared about details.

With a slow shake of his head, Din sighs as he places his helmet on a nearby table. “Kid, we talked about this.”

It’s only when Din’s armor is shining in the light reflected from the TV screen that the little boy finally pries his eyes off it and squeals at the sight of him.

Grogu is scurrying to climb down off the edge of the couch, little legs carrying him as fast as they can toward Din, a toothy grin on his face. The Mandalorian drops to his knees, ignoring the way the tiles bite at his joints as Grogu crashes into his chest, babbling and cooing and little hands grabbing at his shoulders. Din laughs softly, near dizzy with relief, and he lifts Grogu a bit higher, letting the child tenderly frame his face in his small hands.

“Even frogs need their sleep”, he reminds the toddler with a nudge of his head, referencing the documentary still running in the background of their scarcely decorated living room. The child pouts at him. “But I missed you”, he signs, fingers letting go of Din’s cheeks to gesture with his hands how much he'd really missed his father.

“I…”, Din starts and swallows down a sudden lump in his throat, voice tight with emotion. “I am here now, Grogu.”

Behind them, Kuill stands up and makes his way to the door, grunting a swift goodbye. “I'll go see myself out.”

“Wait”, Din calls and poins to the little bag in the corner he's brought with him from his hunt. “Please. Take some.” But the elderly man just shakes his head, scoffing at Din’s insistence. “Dont be ridiculous.”

Din could argue more. It would probably be polite to argue some more – this kind man, took care of his precious child after all. But Grogu’s started yawning adorably in that way that takes up half his face, and Kuill huffs and gestures Din to leave it be. “Both of you could use some sleep. Good night, Djarin.”

A simple word of gratitude is all what Din manages to say when his mysterious neighbour leaves.

Grogu takes a while to go to sleep – crawling all over Din, saying Dididididi and pawing at his face, probably telling him all about what he and Kuill have been getting up to while he was away. Sometimes Grogu doesn’t know the signs and it’s at these times where he just continously babbles and talks and Din can’t do much more than listen and nod with a proud smile.

Frankly, Din doesn’t understand a word of it, but he appreciates the enthusiasm all the same. It makes something melt inside him, to lie there in the dark with the small warm weight of his kid curled up in the crook of his arm, snoozing deeply.

He drops off eventually, flat on his back, still in most of his armor, and sleeps better than he has in months.

Hours later, long after he had dimly registered the sound of the TV running, Din wakes up fully to the pattering sound of Grogu’s feet on the hardwood floor.

“Daddy?” he hears the kid say.

Din opens his eyes, but his kid is not in his eyesight. His back, though, aches like he’s slept on a rock. “Grogu,” he says, addressing the wall more than his son, “Unless you are bleeding, or something is on fire- “

“Sun up,” Grogu insists. The sun, indeed, is high up enough so that their room is lit up by the walls. He moves his head and sighs, one arm over his eyes whereas Grogu keeps saying “Sun up! Sun up!” over and over again.

He’s jumping up and down, chanting, poking at Din’s face, the frog plushie in his other hand. Din would like to get some sleep, but Grogu insists, “Wake up,” delivering another jab to his cheek and really, there’s no denying his son in the long run.

[polkadotsunshine]

this rules! i've always wanted subway stuff in my house.

When I was learning about perimeter and area in school, we had a project to sketch the floor plan of our dream house and calculate various properties about it. I made my dream house as extravagantly huge as I could imagine. I drew up a giant bedroom to house all my stuffed animals. The living room was big enough to fit a 60 inch plasma TV. There was a play room dedicated to all my toys. I had both a shower and a bathtub in the bathroom.

The whole house ended up being less than 2000 square feet.

My teachers expected something bigger. The mathy part of the assignment didn't work with so few rooms and such small numbers, so I went back to the drawing board. I gave myself a home office like my Dad's, I added bedrooms my friends could stay in, and I made each room larger.

It still wasn't enough.

I grew up in a big house in a neighborhood with somehow bigger homes, so I knew that my dream was small compared to the rest of suburban America. However, because the assignment was to make a place I wanted to live in, I only included things I wanted. A number of students in the class had the same problem.

Our teachers encouraged us to base our designs off of mansions from MTV. We should have an indoor pool or a private bowling alley. I supposed that it would be more convenient to have my own bowling alley rather than drive 45 minutes to the nearest place; in that moment, I took a big step towards believing the American dream. I completed the assignment by taking random places I could think of and stapling them to the side of my house. My favorite restaurant at the time was Subway, so I put one right next to my bedroom. I went to my teachers to hand it in.

It still wasn't enough.

Our teachers expected numbers magnitudes larger than anything anyone in the class was making. All of us ended up including an indoor ski slope, even though only one person in the class liked skiing, because it was an easy way to add a massive rectangle to the layout. Along with all the other nonsense I slapped onto my graph paper, I added a second Subway right next to my kitchen. For good measure.

This time, the teachers accepted it.

I haven't stopped thinking about putting 2 Subways in my house.

For reasons only kind-of related to money, I've always had a hard time getting myself to buy food. I fear that if I mismanage my money, I'll mess up and inevitably die. Any time I buy food, I think of how many days it will keep me alive per dollar. Any time I buy anything else, I think of how much food it's worth. I will jump at any opportunity for free or cheap food regardless of the quality, regardless of how it makes me feel, and—truthfully—regardless of the actual efficiency. I force myself to eat rotten food.

I know that I am not at risk of starving or becoming homeless; I make a big tech salary now. Yet, I think about it nonstop. Paradoxically, this fear of waste makes me eat 1 or less meals a day so I can "save" more. I have been unwinding this mindset for years now, but it takes time. The best way I’ve healed is by setting aside a food allowance and preventing it from stockpiling too much.

I clung to the idea of having 2 subways in my home because it represented stability in food and housing.

When I drew it in class, it was as silly as everything else, but people still went out of the way to ask me how it worked. Was it a regular part of the franchise that reported back to HQ? Did I hire staff to run the shop? I don’t fucking know dude; I just needed to pump up the area of the building. But maybe, what I really needed was a guarantee that every day I could eat food. A guarantee that it would be good food. I needed something to ease the weight of surviving.

Even as a kid I sort-of understood that these mansions were isolating themselves by personally owning what were usually public spaces. Yet, I couldn’t discern the subtle difference between a personal bowling alley and a personal Subway. The frog had been boiled; I was already used to kitchens personalizing cooking. The American dream strips us of our community, but seeing you take free furniture from Subway feels pretty damn good.

Particularly, seeing these Subway paintings in your home brings me immeasurable joy. Every time I set foot in a Subway I think about stealing those. Sure, it’s funny, but they represent a comfort I’ve been struggling so long to achieve. Your life isn’t a joke; having furnishings by any means is a fantastic victory.

It is with great pleasure for me to announce, to no one in particular, that yesterday I moved into a house. The kind with a mortgage and everything. Its square footage is smaller than my first sketch, but it’s all I need. And wouldn’t you know. There’s a Subway across the street.

my favorite work memory from this store will always be “hey remember when the subway inside the store closed down and they let me take a bunch of their shit for free and now it lives inside my house?”

my life is a joke