#she told him these were threats but not how to decipher it or what it said exactly

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

[Start ID: the two muscular arms clasped together in solidarity meme, the text on the dark skinned arm reads: antoine, while the text on the light skinned arm reads: tubbo, there is text on the part where the hands are clasped together with reads: trying to solve a puzzle without knowing it's gravity falls and in protugese /End ID.]

what im getting from the liveblogs

[iznyangwoni]

EASY TO LOVE | chapter thirteen !

Your brother was finally back in town and the first thing he decided to do was go see you and your mother. As much as you were happy to see him, you werent really able to enjoy his presence so much.

All you could think about was that video. From the moment it was taken a year ago until now you could barely sleep properly, the fear of someone leaking it too high. Your legs shakes nervously as you try to find the right words for whatever is going on.

“Y/n is everything okay? You seem distracted.” You raise your head, your name getting called taking you by surprise. You look at your mother, who is trying to decipher your expression, meanwhile your brother seems pretty much worried.

“Uh.. yeah. Yes i mean,” you sigh, a hand going through your hair and, before your mother can tell you to not do that or your hair will go everywhere on the plate, you let everything out. “There’s this girl who has been taunting me lately,”

“Oh now thats different, usually you’re the one doing that.” “Yeonjun!” You pout, giving a cold glance to your brother, still, you appreciate him trying to bring the mood up. “And… she did say she has, you know,” You look at your mom, it was so hard talking about it last year, your really dont want to bring it up once again.

“She does have that video and she keeps telling me she will post it and i… i guess its stressing me a bit.” You hide your face in your hands, both for embarrassment and not wanting to cry. Your mother takes a seat next to you, her hand on your back.

“Is there something we can do?” You need to think about this for a moment. The thought of Minji leaking the video is eating you alive, but at the same time you cant tell if its just a threat or if she’s being serious. Ruining someone’s life for a harmless threat seems a bit too much, but you cant really live in fear forever.

“Actually.. there might be something.” And so you tell your mother her name, and the fact that her father does in fact work in our company. You dont tell her to fire him or anything, the best thing to do right now is wait for your mother to decide whats best.

___________________________________

hours later, you’re about to go to sleep when Yeonjun suddenly opens the door of your room. You take off your headphones and sit up on the bed. “What?” Your brother rolls his eyes. “How loud do you have that on? There’s a guy with a loud ass motorbike who’s looking for you.”

You immediately get up and run towards the window. As you expected, Jungwon is out there, leaning on his motorbike with two helmets on his hands. “Please don’t tell dad.” “Won’t.” You put on the first thing you can find, which happens to be a little blue dress and some shoes, running out of the house.

“I told you to not come today.” You say, once you’re facing Jungwon. He’s wearing a racer jacket which looks so damn good on him. “And i told you i wanted to see you. We’re just going for a walk, mh?” He says, handing the helmet to you. You sigh, its not like you have another option, and walking a bit with jungwon could only help you.

So you decide to go, it was way harder to get on the motorbike than you expected, but the ride was worth it. Even if you were quite cold with just the dress you had on.

Later on, you’re both walking on the bridge, his jacket on your shoulders meanwhile your hands brush with each other at every step, but never actually intertwine. “Listen, i dont know what Minji has been telling you, but she is a good person after all. She just doesnt know the right way to show she cares.”

You nod, thinking about what just happened at dinner, the way you told your mather everything might just ruin her life, and Jungwon will hate you for it. “Isnt Sunghoon the same?” He asks, and you have to glance at him, at least Sunghoon doesn’t go around threatening people.

“All Hoonie does is glance at you and tell you to get away from me, its very different.” “Then what does Minji do?” You look at the ground, you dont really want to tell him everything, so you just shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

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[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

An Altercation with Death

I’m going to start this by saying I’m not a furry… BUT I’M SIMPLY SIMPING FOR A WOLF, WTAF IS WRONG WITH ME… I recently watched PIBTLW and it was amazing! The animation, the story and most of all, Death stole the show.

Summary: You meet a mysterious new patron at the pub you work at when trouble strikes. Unfortunately, you have no clue how to thank this new hero of yours. I see you as a cute little babydoll sheep. TLDR: You get harassed at work and Death comes to save you.

Warnings: threats, some swearing, bad Spanish translations. I call Death mainly Muerte and Lobo (wolf in Spanish).

Part 1 |  Part 2

-

You always believed you brought trouble.

It was said to you since you had been young, getting into trouble and mischief before you could even walk. Your parents were advocates for this: stating it to you and those of closeness, jokingly brushing aside the unluckiness you carried.

‘I swear our little Y/N just likes walking into trouble.’

Maybe you searched for it, or perhaps it searched for you. It came in altercations, near-death-like experiences, or just overall bad luck you carried that didn’t seem to bring any repercussions. Breaking things or being overall clumsy. It mattered little how hard you tried to be careful, your luck never seemed to leave you.

People whispered you were cursed, cursed with being misfortunate and cursed for the rest of your time, all whilst you brushed those away to not affect you.

‘If death wants me, he will have to come to find me.’

You continued as if life was not weighing you down, nor your ‘curse’ as you liked to call it. It didn’t push you down, but rather make you clumsy for your job working behind the bar at the Curfew, but you told yourself everyone broke glasses more times than you did, so you didn’t have to worry.

“Hey, you mind bringing those up from the shelf to put on display?” Sofia, your co-worker, a tabby cat short yet brawny called, and you pulled yourself from staring dazed out from the empty tables, moving to go help.

“Another quiet one, huh?” You asked, grabbing boxes as you went back and forth, not paying much attention to who was at the front. You resumed conversation with Sofia before she rushed out to grab some more boxes in storage, telling you she would be some time.

Distracted, you whistled back over to the front, sorting boxes in order before something caught your peripheral, sitting idly by the bar, cloaked and very opposing.

“Ah, Dios mío,” you clutched your chest to still your beating heart, startled by the presence at the bar. It was as if he was whispering death: appearing out of nowhere and waiting to order. You composed yourself enough to step up to where he sat, “May I help you, Señor?”

The first thing you noticed from the wolf in front of you was how unnerving and disturbing his eyes were. Red, like the sweetest apples in the summer, red like the leaves of autumn, red like fresh blood. Danger. They moved unblinkingly, watching you with a discomforting presence.

The wolf seemed at least 6 foot or taller, hunched at the bar on the stool, a black cloak covering his head and guarding you against seeing the rest of him. The next thing you noticed was his smile, white sharp teeth that grinned back at you as if he was teaching himself how to smile less like a maniac and falling to no avail.

You couldn’t shake the awkwardness and intimidation of this wolf; you were half his height after all and even sitting down, he towered over you, seemingly feeling as if he had trapped you from moving anywhere else between the bottles stacked behind you.

Time slowed with silence as the both of you just stared at one another, until you watched his mouth open, the friendliness you could decipher from his posture, yet you blinked owlishly back into reality when you realised you didn’t hear what he said. “I’m so sorry, can you repeat that for me again?”

“A cafe con leche, por favor.” He repeated in the suave deep voice that had you double-guessing everything, yet his smile never ceased to leave his face, eyes unblinking.

“Of course.” You smiled awkwardly, darting over to get it started for him, making sure to keep your back towards him for as long as possible. It had felt like forever perfectly what he wanted, and for something so simple and made millions of times before, you felt as if you were being assessed heavily.

With cup in hand, shakily made your way to him, telling yourself over and over not to drop it, you finally got it to him. It didn’t take much to notice that his hood had been thrown back, revealing the rest of his face and pointed ears. He looked even taller somehow without it on- as you watched his eyes lit up when you came back over to him.

“Gracias,” he gave a long sniff as he brought the cup to his mouth, sipping slowly as he gave a low, deep hum in the back of his throat. The cup looked comically too small for his large paws, yet he was much too engrossed in his drink. “I didn’t know they could do good coffee around here.”

You laughed nervously. “We’re sort of famous for it here. Lots of people come here.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he remarked wryly, your eyes darting behind him to the mere empty stalls and tables, the dead silence settling in as you noticed he had made a joke. His eyes were still on you, observing before he spoke up. “Though I don’t think I’ve noticed a cordera like you around here.”

The thick wool around your face felt thick and hot, making it, even more, harder to breathe. “Ah, I tend to stick to the countryside, it’s much quieter out there than in the middle of it all here.”

The wolf’s chuckle was low and haunting, “I would have to agree.” He resumed sipping his coffee, never breaking eye contact, his voice a soft rumble. “Too filled with life, huh?”

“You could say that.”

You nervously resumed conversation with him, “How come I’ve never seen a Lobo like you around before?”

He paused from drinking his coffee, placing it down before he gave a low chuckle. “I tend to stick to the quieter parts, only needing to be around people when needed.”

“Oh, like it’s part of your job, si?”

His laughter was warming, even when a part of you felt alarmed by him, telling you something was off about him. “You could say that.” He copied with leading charm.

Despite his appearance, speaking to him did help ease your nerves. Maybe it was the smile he gave, regardless of how sharp his teeth looked, there was so array of charm to him, albeit rather awkward.

“What’s your name, corderito?”

You blushed easily at the name, even if it was a fleeting teasing nickname. “Y/N, yours?”

“Muerte.”

“What, like Death? Your name is actually Death?”

“That’s what some people like to call me,” he shrugged coolly, bored as if the name held no resonance to him. “So, La Muerte, can I get anything else for you?”

“No, that’ll be all,” he stood back fully to his full height, and you dwarfed in comparison to him and his shadow, completely engulfing you. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure we’ll meet again sometime.”

“Hopefully for more coffee, I hope.” You spoke hopeful, at least in hopes of seeing him again to get to know him. You heard change cling to the bar table and by the time you moved to collect it, he was gone, vanished on sight and no sight of him despite believing he wouldn’t have moved that fast.

“Huh,” you thought aloud. “That was odd.”

“What was?” Sofia came through from the back, carrying stacks of clean glasses and mugs. “There was… this wolf, and he just… disappeared into thin air.”

“How odd indeed,” Sofia questioned before she nudged your shoulder suggestively. “Was he cute though?”

“Sofia!”

-

Muerte did not show his face for some time, and when the seventh day showed with no sign of him, your hopes of seeing him again dwindled next to nothing.

You continued your days like nothing had happened, telling yourself that customers had lives outside of the bar and that it was unlikely to see him again if he was not a regular.

The bar was peaceful this sunny afternoon, cool breeze coming through thanks to the shade as you resumed cleaning glasses, waiting for anyone to show up. Thanks to the hot heat, many people were outside, enjoying the rays. You would find your day off would be the next day, though you were disappointed to hear that the sun would not be out.

You had to endure nonetheless without enjoying it, stuck behind a bar with an aching back and sore arms from carrying things, dealing with rude customers or none at all. The last one you had was in the early hours after opening, and now, the sun had been at the highest point in the sky, mid-afternoon at least.

“Hey, I’m just gonna go on a quick break, give me a shout if you need anything.” Sofia had shouted from the back as you called back. “It’s fine, grab some limonada if you don’t mind on your way.”

Sofia gave a quick “see you later” before it was quiet once more, or so you had prayed for.

The ruckus that came was loud and jarring, in barging through the double doors were a group of four, short and plump, the four approached the bar, loud and rowdy before one of them recognised you.

Alejandro was a black and patchy goat, a scruff of fine hairs on his chin that didn’t hide the ridiculously sized horns atop his head, pathetically too big in comparison to the rest of his body. How did you know his name? He simply told you, though it took all the willpower within you to not give him yours.

You liked to imagine yourself as being a calm, patient person, but the moment he stepped forth and you saw his annoying pestering smile, you knew how slow the minutes would tick by the longer he stayed.

“Hey, querida, a few shots for me and my friends?”

You silently obeyed, grabbing the necessary things as you poured the shots with tequila. This was a regular thing, they came in for a few minutes to an hour, buying shot after shot with Alejandro flirting his way up a storm in trying to impress you.

Alejandro gave a pleased bleat, downing the shot with his friends as they cheered him on silently behind him. You watched him saunter closer to you, leaning one elbow against the bar. “Can I buy a drink for you? Or maybe a nice meal out—just you and I-”

“Like I said many times before, no thanks. I’m busy.” You looked back behind to see if Sofia was back after her short break. In times like these when the goat came for your attention, Sofia was quick to barge in and shoo them out, but she was still nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, come on, cariño. I’m a real catch.” Alejandro gave a wink your way, and you felt something within you shrivel up and die. Your patience was hanging on a thin cord, mixed with the way he persisted and his friends egging him on, you could feel the last remnants of your collectiveness holding on. “I’d treat you right.”

“I’m not interested.”

“What? You’re seeing someone?” He asked eagerly. It took a lot for you to stomach the words, but in the spur of the moment, you said it, in hopes that they would work. “Yes, I am actually. He comes here often.”

“Oh, well I’ve never seen him here before!” He laughed mockingly, his friends joining before he continued by propping himself up closer to you. “But I’m sure your little boyfriend wouldn’t mind me chatting with you.”

“He wouldn’t, no, he can be a bit protective,” you suggested, wondering if, by any chance in your mind, you were thinking of that wolf. Something in your chest clenched at the mention of him or even imagining him, and you had to dismiss it quickly before you could get your hopes up.

A lamb and a wolf, how funny. It’s not like he has some lovely wolf wife waiting for him anyway.

“Come on, cariño, what do you say? One night of fun. No one would need to know.”

“No.”

Alejandro looked for a moment frustrated by your constant answers, yet, whilst encouraged by his friends surrounding him, he sniggered lightly, giving one last jab your way. “Fine, your loss. It’s not like I wanted to go out with you anyway. I bet your boyfriend even finds you fea-“

Maybe it was the spur of the moment, counting the number of times he had come in, annoying you from your job and begging for your attention. With little help from how close he was to you with the bar in between, you closed the space, grabbing him as tightly as you could by the tiny scruff of his chin hair, tugging hard until he fell forward, suddenly supporting himself as he stared back at you in surprise and horror.

It was peaceful for once, not to hear amusement coming from him or his friends.

“I told you time and time again, but no, you didn’t listen. How many other girls did you have to get through before they told you the same thing? Countless, I believe. And when your tiny ego is ruined, you think of the perfect thing to keep your confidence going—just so you’re not embarrassed in front of your friends.” You calmly spoke, leaning up on your tippy toes to give the final quip as softly and threateningly as possible.

“I do not want to see you or your buddies in here again, or so help me, I’ll personally make sure you’re put out like garbage.”

Maybe you saw red, but your adrenaline was fuelled as you released the goat with a force that he stumbled backwards, nearly falling completely flat on the ground, but was stable by the grip he kept on the table.

With a scoff and a click of your tongue, you flicked your head back away from them. “And even if I did say yes to someone like you, you would’ve bored me greatly.”

It had looked as if the goat had seen red himself.

Before his friends could sway him to leave, Alejandro moved quicker than any of them expected, nearly leaping over the bar table to get to you, a raised hand ready to come in contact with the back of your neck.

“Listen here, you ungrateful perra, I’m not done talking with you-“

The connection didn’t come, instead, a loud clap that echoed in the small room startled you to look back over your shoulder from the suddenness. Expecting to feel the harsh grip of the goat’s hand on you, you and those in the bar were moved speechless as Alejandro’s hand was held inches from your body, blocked in the large, overwhelming grip of another.

Your heart clenched at the sight in front of you, aware that he could hear the way it beat so fast. “Lobo?”

“The corderito said she was not interested,” Lobo began, the hood hiding his face except for his piercing eyes, glaring daggers towards the goat and his pals. “May I need to escort you tontos out personally?”

Alejandro looked expectantly between you and the wolf, disbelief written on his face as if it read ‘How the hell did he get in here?’ before he was trying to choke on his weak macho ego.

“How the—hey, let go of me, man!” He looked back over to you, pointing with his free hand. “This? This is your boyfriend! You’re seeing a wolf!” He questioned sardonically.

“He-“ you went to correct yourself, but Lobo chimed in, surprising both you and the other patrons in the small bar. “Yes, yes I am her boyfriend. Now,” Alejandro gave a loud yelp, his hand squished in the tightening grip of the wolf, his red piercing gaze scowled as he snarled out, “run before I grow an appetite for goat.”

It didn’t need to be repeated, watching the retreating goats bleat in horror and flee from the scene, leaving the silence to fill the air as you stared up at Lobo in quiet admiration. “You… you saved me.”

“I couldn’t have left you with those idiotas now, could I?” He asked, looking over you carefully, his gaze softening as he calmed. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, you came in the nick of time.” You mustered the courage to thank him more, relieved your blushing face hid the wool. You took his paw into your hands, squeezing tightly. “Muchas gracias, Muerte. How could I ever repay you?”

He seemed taken aback momentarily by your sudden praise, before chuckling softly to himself. If you had mistaken it, you thought you had heard him mutter “Que linda” under his breath.

“You don’t need to repay me, mi corderito.”

Despite the cool you got from his fur, he did not pull back from you, instead, he didn’t seem to want to pull away. “I didn’t know you thought of me as your boyfriend.” He teased.

Your eyes widened in realisation. “Er, well, I had to make something up to get that estúpido away from me.” You stared up at him, nervously smiling. “I’m sorry I had to get you involved.”

“I don’t like people like him.” Muerte said softly, “especially taking advantage of someone like you.” His paw squeezed your hand momentarily before he let go. “I should get going again.”

“Can I see you again?”

He stopped in his place, turning back towards you, surprise written in his red eyes before they warmed. “Well, my job is rather busy, but I can be free just for you.”

Your eyes lit up. “Anytime this week?”

“How about tonight?”

“Yeah, erm, hold on, let me write the address.” You grabbed some paper from underneath the bar, and by the time you stood back up, Muerte was standing closely observing you, inches from your face. You jolted, not moving as if curious about what he would do next. “I’ll see you then, Y/N. Oh, and do try and keep out of trouble.”

With that, he took the note and headed out, not before you heard a low whistle, disappearing as he walked out.

The lamb and the wolf. Maybe it did have a bit of a ring to it.

-

Dios mío – My God

Señor - Sir

Cafe con leche, por favor – coffee with milk, please

Gracias – Thank you

Cordera – Lamb

Lobo - Wolf

Si - Yes

Corderito – Little lamb

La Muerte – The Death

Limonada – Lemonade

Querida – Darling/Dear

Cariño – Sweetheart/Dear

Perra – Bitch

Tontos – Idiots

Muchas gracias – Thank you so much

Que linda – How cute

Estúpido – Idiot

[unboundprompts]

Hey, can I get a list of prompts detailing various methods of summoning demons/spirits? I’m in the market for something spooky~

Spirit Summoning Prompts

-> tw for blood and gore

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

The Book:

She held her breath as she flipped through the pages of the book. Dust flew in the air around her, made visible by the single yellow light that sat on the table next to her. She wasn't certain on what exactly she was looking for, but she knew that she would know once she found it.

Page after page of gruesome pictures and paragraphs full of symbols she didn't understand, she began to wonder if instinct would ever kick in.

Then she felt it. Call it an itch, a gut-feeling, or whatever, but she found what she was looking for.

It was a picture-- hand drawn in faded black ink-- of a girl holding a knife. She had it pressed to her palm, her skin sunken in from the pressure of the blade. Blood ran down her arm, trickling off of her elbow and onto the floor. Behind her was a pair of clawed hands resting on her shoulders. She couldn't see who they belonged to, the face of whomever concealed by a dark void.

Above the picture were words that she could not decipher, but a voice that hid at the nape of her neck whispered them into her mind.

She shook away the chill.

Numbly, almost automatically, she brought a blade to her hand.

Blood dripped onto the page of the book, the sound of the splatter so loud in the silent room. She watched it seep through the page, spreading like a cancerous growth. It found the lines of the faded black ink, following it as if it were a mirror.

She saw the eyes of the creature standing behind the girl in the picture.

----------

The Circle:

This was a bad idea-- no, a terrible idea-- and he pleaded and begged with his roommate to not go through with this. 'Lighten up, man,' he had been told, 'not like anything is actually going to happen.'

That's what every character in the beginning of a horror movie has ever said in the history of ever, but what did he know?

He watched with his arms crossed as his roommate lit the candles that he had arranged in a circle around the room. The flames danced and created shadows on the walls that moved anytime he breathed. He could easily convince himself that they were alive, or that there was already something waiting in the shadows, so he did his best to not think about it. It didn't help, obviously.

His roommate sat down in the center of the circle. "Are there any spirits that want to communicate with us?" He asked in a loud, booming voice.

They both listened. There were no other sounds except for the mechanical whirr of the box fan in the corner of the room.

"Dude, it's not going to work unless you join me."

"Good," he answered. "I don't want it to work."

His roommate hummed. "If you don't join me, I'm going to tell everyone you like Julia."

"Fine, tell them."

A threat like that was not enough to get him to help summon a demon.

"And," his roommate continued, "I'm going to tell them that you have fake conversations with her in the shower where you confess your love for her and it ends with you making out with your hand."

He sat down in the circle.

----------

The Mirror:

They heard that it was possible to communicate with the dead through a mirror.

How it worked exactly, they weren't sure, but they found themselves standing in front of their bathroom sink with the lights off. It was 3:32am and they were counting down the seconds until it hit 3:33.

They stared at the watch on their wrist, the second hand ticking towards the twelve. It struck. They knocked on the mirror six times.

Knock knock knock knock knock knock.

The air was still. Their voice was trapped in their throat. They stared into the mirror.

"...Mom?" they managed to strangle out. "Are you there?"

Suddenly, they felt very foolish. They slammed their hands down on the edge of the sink out of a mix between embarrassment and anger. Their reflection stared back at them, their features barely noticeable in the dark.

A figure appeared over their left shoulder.

"Mommy isn't here right now."

The mirror shattered.

----------

I had so much fun with this lmao, if you want more send me another ask I'd be happy to do more :)

[thesithdiaries]

Gone (Daemon Targaryen imagine)

Gone (Daemon Targaryen imagine)

Gone (Daemon Targaryen imagine)

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

Requested: yes

Warnings (and trigger warning): angst, badly written miscarriage, cheating, daemon being daemon

A/N: another one that was very delayed and it sucks

-

In Westeros, Lady Y/N from Highgarden was known for her beauty and gentle nature. She was the wife of Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, and they had been married for two years. Y/N was pregnant with their first child, and she was excited about becoming a mother.

One night, Y/N went for a walk in the gardens and saw Daemon in a compromising position with another woman that she did not know. Y/N was shocked and devastated. Despite the rumors and his strange personality, Y/N had always believed that Daemon was faithful to her, and she had never suspected him of being capable of doing such a thing.

"Daemon, how could you?" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "How could you do this to me?"

Daemon’s face was hard to decipher, she could not figure out what he was feeling. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"Is that all you have to say?" Y/N yelled, her voice rising in anger. “You have betrayed me, Daemon. You have betrayed our marriage and our child."

Daemon tried to reach out to her, but Y/N pulled away. She was heartbroken and felt as if her world was falling apart. Y/N rushed to a guest chamber on another side of the Keep, the furthest one she could find.

Y/N would talk to King Viserys the next morning, to explain what had happened. She was sure he would help her, he had to.

Days passed, and Y/N became increasingly ill. She was losing weight and felt weak and tired all the time. Her maids were worried, and the rumors swept through the court. Daemon wanted to see her, desperately trying to get inside the chamber but her sworn knight did not allow him to do so, despite all the threats.

The Maester examined her after Talia informed him of the situation and discovered that she had lost the baby.

Y/N was inconsolable. She had been so excited about becoming a mother, and now that dream had been shattered. She felt as if she had lost everything.

“Y/N, let me in,” Daemon pleaded, knocking on the door. She did not respond, of course. He rushed to see her after the Maester told him about it. His heart felt heavy, and it pained him. It was all his fault. Y/N was suffering because of him. “Y/N, please.”

Daemon tried to apologize and make amends, but Y/N could not forgive him. She felt as if he had destroyed her life and her happiness. She could not bear to be around him.

As the weeks turned into months, Y/N slowly began to heal. She focused on her duties at court, and on helping the people of King’s Landing.

Daemon watched her from a distance, filled with regret and remorse. He knew that he had made a terrible mistake and that he had hurt the woman he loved more than anything in the world. He still did not know what made him look for someone else, his relationship with Y/N was good.

One day, Daemon approached Y/N and begged for her forgiveness. "Y/N, I know that I have hurt you deeply," he said. "But I love you, and I want to make things right between us.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with pain. It was the first look they shared since that fateful night. "Daemon, I don't know if I can forgive you," she confessed. "But I do know that I cannot go on living in this state of bitterness and anger. I want to find a way to move on, for my own sake."

Daemon nodded, tears in his eyes. "I understand," he said. "I will do whatever it takes to make things right between us, Y/N. I love you more than anything in the world."

Y/N looked at him for a moment and sighed. “I am leaving.”

“What?” Daemon asked, perplexed. Leaving?

“I am going back to my family.”

“You cannot do that,” he began to say, but Y/N did not want to hear it.

“You do not get to complain about this decision, it is all your fault,” she reminded him, making Daemon purse his lips. “The King gave me his blessing to leave."

Daemon scoffed, “the King? My brother is a fool.”

“It is done, Daemon. I am leaving tomorrow. You'll be free to bed whatever whore you like.”

He stood perplexed, watching as she walked away from him… and their marriage. Daemon knew she was a proud woman, and there was nothing he could do to change the past.

//

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[aurathian]

love me (and leave me to die)

chapter 1: yearning | ao3

For @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023, prompt: yearning. Massive thank you to @hyylia for being my beta and encouraging my delusions

Rating: T

Summary: Princess Zelda is cruelly aware of her destiny, prophesied since a time Long, Long Ago. Though she gives herself to it wholly so that the Future may be peaceful, her destined Hero Link will do anything to save her.

Disclaimer: This fic contains references to major TotK spoilers.

Long Ago was so far away that the Hyrule of Now couldn’t place it in time. Too much had come to pass that they couldn’t decipher whether it was centuries, millennia, or eons, so instead they called it Long Ago. The Hyrule of Now was wary of the Hyrule Long Ago, a Hyrule deemed dangerous and riddled with fragile legends. Parents told their sleepy children bedtime stories of the monsters from Long Ago, history books dared not to address it out of fear of manifesting what had once been, and the Royal Family kept its closely guarded secrets about that time so Long Ago. Long, Long Ago, the king and queen of Hyrule faced a great threat. Its princess was tasked with an insurmountable feat she determined to be the only just solution. Long Ago, she

“sacrificed herself.” The Sheikah tutor rounded the table with a glum look. “In order to drive back the Demon King and support the Hero of the Long Ago, she forfeited her being.”

A small hand rose. The tutor gestured in acknowledgment.

“How?” asked the young, bright-eyed Princess Zelda of Hyrule, blonde curls settling as she tilted her head.

“An ancient mural indicated the princess of The Long Ago became a dragon. Such a feat is not expected of you in that regard.”

Zelda didn’t understand why Impa always looked so sad. When they played in the gardens together (after some begging), her teacher looked perfectly happy. Maybe she just didn’t like the classroom, disproportionately large for only two small desks, one each for the Princess and her Hero. The walls were lined with educational banners–literature, numbers, famous quotes–and one bore a giant chalkboard which Impa rarely wrote on. Princess Zelda wondered when they would finally learn arithmetic like all the other schoolkids.

Another little hand, another gesture.

“Where is she now?”

The voice was very quiet so that even from right beside him, Zelda could hardly hear Link.

In a voice almost equally small, Impa replied, “We don’t know.”

Keep reading on AO3

[jupiterwrites99]

You're On Your Own, Kid

twelve

It had been three weeks since the mouse fiasco, Sage and Paul have made it a habit to sleep in her little bed together, as precautions for any loud noise that may set her off after 4th of July fireworks had set her off completely. Paul had found her hiding under her blankets to try and evade the noise. At this point, Sage didn’t think her hearing would get less sensitive. Leah's brother Seth, also had better hearing than the rest of the pack and agreed the fireworks were less than pleasant to listen to. 

Over the three weeks, Sam had begun teaching her how to control her phasing and while she picked it up quickly, she felt less in control of her wolf. It was almost like she was teasing her everytime she phased and then returned to her human state, which the wolf did not like.

After a lesson with Sam, she had wandered off into the woods in her wolf form, running freely through the thick greenery. She could smell Paul's scent nearby and followed it until it led her to him.

Sage watched from the treeline,as Paul's truck pulled up next to the familiar car she knew to be Rachels. She assumed they were at her house, considering she had never seen the little red cottage before. Confusion struck her as she watched the two of them exit their respective cars. Rachel was quick to get to Paul, wrapping him up in a hug that he was hesitant to return.

Good, she thought.

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, or seemingly spy on them. But she was a curious person, and Paul had told her he had work today. Rachels car seemed fine to her.

Sage was too far to hear the nature of their conversation, though Rachels dramatics were not hard to decipher. She was upset, clearly. 

That didn’t bug her, no, what bugged Sage was the way Paul was comforting his old flame. It made it look like things hadn’t really fizzled out between them like she thought they had when she walked in on them arguing. 

He said he had dealt with Rachel, and maybe, Sage was the fool for thinking that meant things were over.

The familiar feeling of anger sat in the pit of her stomach as she tore her eyes away. They were too close, too touchy, Sage thought.

She watched as he wiped the tears from the raven haired girl's face, and that was the final straw. Everything about the way he acted with Rachel was familiar, it stung to know that he was out comforting her in a manner she thought was reserved for herself. His mate.

Her wolf was getting harder to control the more she felt betrayed, which seemed to be by everyone she found herself giviing her full trust too. Sage knew she couldn’t hit Rachel, the obvious strength difference was an unfair match, but also, she didn’t want to disappoint Paul again. Even if he was disappointing her.

She watched as Jacob left the house ignoring Paul and Rachel as he headed for the treeline. Jacob was Rachel's brother, she connected the two of them. The wind made his familiar scent more noticeable than usual. More so because she was trying to block out the blend of Paul and Rachel, she didn’t like his bourbon and coffee-esque scent being melded with her rose scent. It didn’t blend well.

Sage winced as her wolf started losing it, she tried to ground herself so that she didn’t phase accidentally from adrelaine.

Threat, Threat, Threat, repeated by her wolf over and over again.

Then she realised who the threat was, and Sage knew just how to take out her uncontrollable  anger.

-----

PAUL POV

“It’s mine!” Sage tackled him, knocking both of them to the ground.

Paul pulled her off of Jacob, his arm secured around her waist as she struggled against his hold to reach the wolf scowling at her from the ground. He had just gotten back from a light patrol shift to find her and Jacob arguing, with zero clue of what the issue could be. This was the last thing he wanted to do today. He fully intended on walking into Emily's kitchen, stealing two muffins and whisking Sage away to her bedroom to nap while she fiddled with everything and anything in her room that she had found.

The little kleptomaniac.

Instead he was breaking up a brawl that his imprint had seemingly started.

“Sage, stop it,” He said, readjusting his arms and trying to get the angry girl under control, “Stop.”

Paul heard Sam before he saw him and knew this was about to go down hill, and fast.

“Jacob. Knock it off.” He said threateningly before turning to the girl, “Sage, we don’t fight our pack mates.”

“He took my--” She tried to explain as Jacob stood up from the ground, wiping off the dirt.

“We don’t fight our packmates.” Sam said more forcefully, not letting her explain herself. Paul could see the frustration in her eyes grow tenfold.

“Or what?” She tried to take a step towards Sam but Paul stopped her.

“Let her go, Paul.” He said using his alpha tone. Paul had no choice but to let her go and watch from the sidelines. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that this wasn’t going to be good.

Sam took a step towards the young girl currently shaking in anger, “If you start another fight, you will be punished.”

“Can I have my things back, Jacob?” She asked sharply, ignoring Sam.

“No, I don't--” Sage pulled her fist back before she punched Jacob, hard. Paul heard her fist crack as it connected with Jacobs cheek and while the impact shocked the other wolf, he knew his imprint couldn’t do that much damage to the true born alpha.

“Sage!” Sam yelled in disbelief. Paul reached for her waist but before he could grab her, Sam pulled her upper arm, roughly dragging her to the back side of the house. Paul followed close behind, wanting to make sure she listened to Sam or at least, didn’t take off running again. “You are going to sit here until you are ready to be a part of this pack and follow the rules.This behaviour is disobedient, unpredictable and dangerous.”

“Your rules are stupid.” She challenged him again.

“Sit. Down.” He said forcefully.

“No.” She growled at him.

“Sage,” Sam tried again.

“No!” She yelled at him.

“You’re staying out here until I think you’re ready.” Sam shook his head before looking at Paul, nodding his head towards the back door of the cottage. He knew better than to challenge him. 

“Fuck you,” He had heard her whisper as the two men walked inside. Sage sat down on the grass, her back against a large tree.

“What was that?” Sam asked, turning to look over his shoulder at the smaller wolf. Paul groaned internally. He wasn’t happy that Sam was now provoking her, does he not get that she doesn’t have a pack mentality?

“I said fuck you!” She shouted angrily at Sam. 

My brave girl, Pauls wolf thought smugly.

-----

“Sam, you have to remember, she just spent five years on her own. Jacob crossed a boundary, she reacted and you punished her and not him. Of course she’s going to be upset.” Leah reprimanded after Jacob and Paul explained what had happened. While Jacob said he didn’t know why she was so angry with him, Paul had his doubts. Sage doesn’t just get angry for no reason. Something had to have happened.

“She needs to learn.” Sam reminded all of them.

Paul scoffed, “We’ll be lucky if she doesnt start resource guarding.”

She had a knack for hiding things in her room, while some were little things like rocks or pinecones. He had found her keeping more than one water glass in her room, to which she would always say, just in case. 

He knew what that meant. 

Just in case they locked her door again.

She trusted him, Paul knew that. But he also knew, she was still wary about most of the pack, the only other member she trusted was Leah.

“Paul,” Sam said his name as a warning. As if he knew he was on the verge of getting angry himself.

“Let me talk to her,” He stated, he could reason with her.

“No.” Sam shook his head.

Paul scoffed in annoyance, “She already had reservations about being in our pack, this isn’t going to help.”

“He’s right.” Jacob said from his seat at the table, “She’s been on her own, she’s learned this life on her own. We all had someone looking out for us when we phased. We all had a pack. We can't expect her to just submit without giving her a reason to trust that she’ll be safe with us. ‘Cause let's be honest, she's not here because she wants to be. She's here because of Paul.”

Jacob looked towards Paul specifically, adding, “I’ll talk to her.”

Paul watched from the window as she tried to sweep out his legs with her own, though she failed. He couldn’t hear what Jacob had said to her but when he sat down, she didn’t  attack him like he half expected her to. If he was being honest, Paul was proud of her, she had yet to phase from her anger, which meant she was learning to control her wolf.

Jacob stayed outside for nearly half an hour before he made his way back into the kitchen. An unreadable expression on his face as he sat back down at the table.

“So?” Leah prodded.

Jacob looked to Paul, “You’re not going to like it.”

“Like what?” Paul demanded.

Jacob only shook his head, stating,“We should wait for Sam.”

“Jacob.” The older wolf growled out.

Jacob explained that while he was off with the Cullen family, he would come back to Washington every now and then to check on Charlie Swan as a favour to Bella. He had come across a den, full of belongings and took a bag from it, hoping it would have some clothes in it so he could shift back. It didn’t.

He hadn’t thought about it since. Sage told him that it was her bag, and now she wants it back. It made sense that it was her den, now that Jacob has thought about, but he doesn’t have the bag anymore. 

“I tried to tell her I don’t have it, but she’s beyond caring about what I have to say,” Jacob informed them.

“So you’re telling me she had every fucking reason to hit you,” Paul chuckled in disbelief.

“How was I supposed to know?!” Jacob argued back.

“You know now!” Paul shouted, taking a step towards Jacob.

“Paul, calm down, now.” Sam said, stepping between the two men.

“Let me fucking see her.” He said angrily. That's all he wanted. He wanted to go and make sure Sage was okay because the terrible stabbing pain in his chest, he knew that being out there by herself was taking some kind of toll on her.

“If I let you see her, you don’t go out there and tell her she was right. She needs to learn she can’t just hit people because they’ve done her wrong.” Sam spoke with authority.

“He deserved it.” He muttered. Paul still wasn’t sure what the fight was about, but he knew Sage, it probably was about more than a bag. She doesn’t just hit people for no reason. Sure, she lunged at Rachel, but that was only after the older woman had insulted Leah, someone Sage considers to be her close friend.

“Paul,” Sam shook his head.

“Fine.” Paul conceded.

“Go.” Sam nodded towards the door.

Paul didn’t need to be told twice before he was nearly sprinting out the door. Sage was still in the same spot that Sam and him had left her. Her back leaning up against the tree as she picked at the weeds.  The sun had started to set and with the clouds, it seemed darker than it was but as he closed in on her, the unmistakable frown lines on her face shattered him.

“Hey, little wolf.” He said softly, worried about startling her,  “Remember what I said about lunging at people?”

“You didn’t banish me for it.” Sage bit back. He was shocked by her tone, never having heard her speak with anything other than a shy kindness in her voice.

“You’re not banished.” He reminded her, though the fact that she felt that way made him nauseous.

“Feels like it.” She mumbled, before raising her voice again in anger, “He won’t even let me inside!” Sage turned to face Paul completely, sitting up straighter, “Jacob stole from me, and I got shoved outside like a dog that chewed up a couch cushion. It's not fair!”

“I know.” He acknowledged. He agreed, it wasn’t fair. But there was fuck all he could do about itt after she swung at Jacob. Pack rules are pack rules.

“He won’t even give it back.” She cried, the tears finally free flowing that he had prepared himself for, as she slumped back to the ground.

“Give what back?” He asked, sitting beside her and trying to pull her into his arms. She was reluctant, so he eased up. Settling for just holding her hand. Paul didnt know what to do, he wasn’t good at this emotional stuff. He didn’t get emotional, he just got angry.

“My backpack.” She explained, “It had the watch my grandma gave to me on my sixteenth birthday in it. It was the only thing I still had of hers.”

“I don’t think…he’s got the bag anymore, Sage.” He spoke carefully, unsure if her next move would have her trying to deck him as she had done to Jacob.

She lets out a sob. Oh no. Her anger had completely turned into sadness all because Jacob couldn’t stay out of other people's business, per usual. Paul hugged her close, and whispered softly, “I’m so sorry.” 

“I want to be alone.” Sage cried, pushing him away.

“Sage,” His chest tightened, and Paul could feel her pulling from him. From their bond.

“Please.” She begged as she tucked her head into her knees., “Go away,”

He wasn’t going to push her. That would only make her resent him more, he knew that. So, he went back inside to make her the one thing he knew would comfort her. Hot chocolate.

Emily had stocked up on marshmallows too, hoping that would be an added bonus.

He turned the kettle on before turning to Jacob and Leah who were looking at him expectantly.

“You better find the fucking bag or else I’m going to let her at you.” He said through a growl, pointing an angry finger at Jacob.

“Paul!” Sam yelled sternly.

Turning to his alpha, Paul yelled angrily, “It had her grandmother's watch in it, and he lost it. She's got nothing else, Sam!” 

“I think I might know where it is.” Jacob muttered.

“You better figure it out, and fast.” Paul said with a threatening tone before he turned to Sam, “Can she come inside?”

“Has she shown any remorse at all?” Sam asked.

“If thats what you’re waiting for, she going to be gone by the fucking morning. If she leaves, I’m going with her.” Paul said with a seriousness he didn’t display all too often.

“She's not going to run, Paul.” Sam reassured him.

He couldn't help but scoff, did they not pay attention to her habits like he did?! Shaking his head, Paul argued, “She thinks you’ve thrown her out like a misbehaving dog!”

“She--”

“Doesn't know any better,” Emily said from the door with groceries in hand, cutting off her husband, “Bring her in.”

“Emily, she hit--” Sam tried to explain the events of the night

“I don’t care.” She cut off Sam again, noting, “You boys have no clue what that girl has gone through to get to where she is now. How much anger or hurt you have to have to not be able to phase back on your own, you all know what that feels like. We don’t know what caused her to feel that way, but for someone who is afraid of thunderstorms and being locked away, I'm going to assume it wasn’t good.”

 That was all Paul needed to head out back to grab her, though she wasn’t where he had left her, causing his heart to race, calling out, “Sage?”

“Sage!” He yelled out her name again, jogging around to the other side of the house.She was just fucking here, he thought.  He could still smell her but with their bond, he could usually feel when she was around. Not anymore. 

“Is everything alright?” Sam asked as he caught up to Paul. A concerned look on his face. Paul had to stop himself from lunging at his alpha, as much as his wanted him to. A fight with Sam would just waste time that they could be using to find Sage.

“Shes fucking gone!”

[parkerpenny]

been far away (for far too long)

Summary: "Dust filled her lungs, and Penny desperately fought the urge to put her hands over her ears to block out the noise that surrounded her. 5 years. That's what Doctor Strange had said as he guided her through a portal and towards the compound - well, what used to be the compound.

No matter how scrambled her brain was by her surroundings, there was one thought screaming at her in the front of her mind.

Find Mr. Stark."

Or: A brief look into my take on Tony and Penny's reunion on the battlefield.

Word Count: 1.2k

Relationship: Penny Parker & Tony Stark

Title From: Far Away - Nickelback

Read on AO3

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

Dust filled her lungs, and Penny desperately fought the urge to put her hands over her ears to block out the noise that surrounded her. 5 years. That's what Doctor Strange had said as he guided her through a portal and towards the compound - well, what used to be the compound.

Penny couldn't really comprehend what was happening around her. There was fire, fighting, screaming, and it was so loud. She didn't know what to do with herself, so she did the only thing she knew how to do - swing in to battle. There were aliens, just like last time, on Titan. This time, it seems as though they were multiplied by a thousand. It seemed never-ending. No matter how scrambled her brain was by her surroundings, there was one thought screaming at her in the front of her mind.

FIND MR. STARK!

She whipped her head around, searching frantically for the red and gold armour. Her heart pounded in her chest and she could feel her blood rushing in her ears. What if he's hurt? What if he never made it? What if something had happened to him? Penny tried to stop that train of thought before she sent herself into a spiral. That's the last thing she needed right now. He had to be alive, surely the wizard would've told her if anything had happened to him.

She fired web after web at the aliens, almost as an afterthought. She continued her search until she heard the familiar whirring of repulsors. She could've cried at the relief that filled her. She felt safer in an instant, knowing that Mr. Stark was close by. Penny scaled a pile of rubble, hoping to get a glance of the man. Her face fell and she felt her blood run cold in panic as one of the aliens aimed a weapon at him from behind. He wouldn't see it in time. Penny didn't hesitate to swing down, webbing up the enemy swiftly and making sure that the threat had been neutralized.

Finally letting herself breathe, she ran down towards where Mr. Stark lay on the ground, having been knocked down by the alien. The girl grabbed him by the hand, pulling him up onto his feet. She rambled for a moment about how she ended up back here, a habit of hers when she gets excited. Penny took her first real look at the man, noticing with a pang in her chest that the man did in fact look older. It really had been 5 years. He looked the same, but with a few more lines on his face and a bit more salt than pepper in his greying hair.

Just as she took a breath to continue her tangent, Tony took a sudden step forward and pulled the young girl into his arms. Penny didn't realise just how loud everything was until the world went quiet. Safe and wrapped in her father-figure's embrace, she felt like she could finally take a breath, her first in what felt like ages. She didn't comment on his trembling hands or the teardrops she felt hit the top of her head.

Tony held the girl by her shoulders, pulling back to look at her. Penny couldn't begin to decipher the emotions running across his expression in that moment. He says nothing for a moment, an uncharacteristic silence for the man of a million words. His eyes, however, spoke volumes. She could tell there was so much he wanted to say, she wondered what words he would decide upon. She was confident that no matter what, they would be the right words. He always seemed to know the right words.

"I love you, Penny."

That wasn't quite what she was expecting, but did it ever warm her heart. She opens her mouth to reply, but Tony cuts her off, seemingly desperate to get all those words out at once. "I... I never told you that while you were here. I spent five years knowing that I held my kid in my arms while she turned to dust and I never even told her how much I love her. You didn't even know. And -"

It was Penny's turn to cut him off, not with words but with a hug. She held him tight, whispering softly. "I knew. I did." She drew away to look up at him. "I love you too, Mr. Stark."

Tony had tears in his eyes. Penny just smiled, her own tears tracing their way down her face. "God, kid. You... You have no idea how much I missed you. Every day, Penny. Every single day I thought about you. There's so much to tell you, I -"

Tony is cut off once again by a yell, and the sounds of the battle raging on around them comes back into focus. The two share a look, unspoken words between them. There will be hours and hours of conversations, there will be tears, laughter, fear, love. For now, there is a fight to win. Both of them smirking at each other and shrugging, Tony brings Penny in for one more tight hug, holding the back of her head gently, as if she might fade away. He kissed the top of her head, and lets go of her with a squeeze. "Duty calls, Mr. Stark." Penny says, a glint of excitement in her eyes. Tony breathes out a chuckle, looking at Penny like she hung the stars in the night sky. "Just like old times, hey kid?"

Preparing to dive head first back into battle, Penny pulls her mask down over her face. She shoots a little salute at Tony before swinging away to see where she could help. Tony sighs, allowing himself a moment of grace in the chaos around him. He had her back. It really worked. He had his kid back in his arms. He had so much to tell her. He was different now. He wouldn't blame the tears in his eyes on the dust in the air, he would blame them on the relief that came with seeing your child alive and well after watching them die.

He would make sure she knew how much he loved her, that she would never question her place in his life, as a part of his family. He would bring her to his lakehouse. He hoped she would like the room he had designed for her when they built the place. It may have made Pepper question his mental stability a bit at the time, but hell, she loved Penny like she was her own too. He would introduce Penny to Morgan. God, they would get on like a house on fire. He'd be grey in a couple weeks with the amount of worrying he'll do over his two daughters. He knew Morgan would grow up to be the best of all of them with Penny as her role model.

There was so much to say, so much to catch up on. For now, there was a battle to fight.

A battle he had one more reason to win.

[yumimak]

Anomaly- Chapter 4

TW: Blood, slight violence

-  -  -

The past week had been pure bliss. Not only for the twins, but for the Sully children as well.

Training had gone on as usual for the twins. Much time was spent up away from the ground, perfecting their calculated movements from tree to tree.

When they weren’t practicing or at the lab, the twins spent time with the Sully children and Spider. Whether they were going for a walk or exploring a part of the forest they’d never seen before, the group always had fun. With each passing day they seemed to get closer and closer.

Neteyam really enjoyed the time as well. Not just because he saw the constant progression of their skills but because he saw how much fun his siblings were having with them. Hanging out as a group also took a lot of the burden of teaching from Neteyam as his siblings had helped integrate the twins into more of their cultural norms and their language.

And of course, there was Y/n. Since that first day he’d simply hung out with her, he seemed to always look forward to the next time they’d hang out. He’d never admit it but simply seeing her laugh at one of his jokes felt like a reward. And the way that she’d wear the hair pieces he’d made her everyday gave him a certain feeling of pride he just could not understand.

There was nothing special about any of that though, he knew that. Lo’ak and Spider would make you laugh all the time, and you’d wear the bracelet that Kiri made you and the waist beads that Tuk made you everyday as well. So he pushed deciphering any of those feelings to the side. There was simply no point in understanding any of it.

For the twins, they couldn’t help but bask in the pure feeling of joy they’d felt this past week. For once they had felt like they had actually been a part of something good. 

Though it was just the Sully kids, the fact that they would hang out with them showed progression. It gave the twins hope that maybe one day the whole clan would know more about them too, and hopefully accept them as one of the people. Unbeknownst to them, this hope had partially become a reality in the past week.

With little Tuk being so excited about her new friends, especially Y/n, all she could do was talk about them. It didn’t matter who her audience was, whether it be her father, her annoyed mother, Mo’at while she healed the injured, or her friends she’d play with during the day.

Like a wildfire, the young girl's words spread throughout the clan. Whether it’d be the people who had overheard the stories Tuk told to Mo’at and wondered why the Tsahik would accept the ‘demons’ around the clan. Or Tuk’s friends who spoke in awe about the twins Tuk always hung out with.

The children would beg their parents to let them meet the twins. Their requests were always denied because where the children saw cool beings they could befriend, the older clan members saw them as the enemy.

Without meeting them, all but the children and a few empathetic adults, the clan grew stronger hatred for the twins. They believed that the twins were corrupting the minds of the young children simply through stories. They feared that they would be the next big threat of the clan, bringing nothing but the Sky Peoples plans with them.

So to the disknowledge of the twins and the Sully family, plans to completely prevent the presence of the twins began being made. They believed that if the Olo’eyktan and his family would not protect them, they would have to protect themselves.

Of course there was no true harm coming from the twins themselves, the only violent thoughts and plans all originating from the clan itself.

If only someone in power would have known of their plans, maybe they could stop them.

If only Y/n had known of the vendetta the clan had against her, maybe she wouldn’t have been there that day.

But no matter what, bad things happen to good people. It’s an upsetting fact that will always be true because no matter what you do, or how hard you try to prevent it, tragedy will always come. And when true tragedy hits, it is always unexpected. 

Y/n wished she could have felt that euphoria she’d felt this past week forever, but she wasn’t so lucky.

Maybe if she knew that this event would be the true catalyst for the rest of her life, maybe she’d take the blow a little better. Or maybe it’d all still hurt the same.

- - -

Y/n

The air is fresh and clean as I move smoothly through the trees.

With each jump I propel my entire body like Neteyam told me, swinging from point to point until I spot the plant I was looking for. I make my descent, sliding smoothly down the tree until I finally land on the outskirts of an opening of the forest. I run my fingers along some of the forest plants as I walk, watching how it glows in reaction to my touch.

When I enter the opening I am able to more closely recognize the plant that Norm had sent me to gather for his research. “Perfect,” I mumble as I walk over to, squatting before them as I take samples to bring back.

I make sure to move gently, careful to not disrupt Eywa’s flora too much, but I also make sure to move quickly. After having trained this morning, gone back to the lab and now back into the forest, eclipse was nearing. Noah was scared about me being out here alone but I assured him I would be okay.

I double think about my assurance though when I feel something hard hit the side of my head. I fall over, hissing at the sharp pain before I feel someone roll me on to my back. I look up to see a na’vi boy kneeling over me; a hand on my chest keeps me still before he delivers not one but two rough punches to the other side of my face.

It all happened so fast but all it takes is the second punch for my fight or flight instincts to finally kick in and, as I was trained to do, I pick fight.

I drive my knee up, striking him right between the legs. He’s the one who hisses in pain as I take the upper hand, pushing him off of me before rolling to place myself over him. He’s bigger than me but was not that good of a fighter. I can see that he is on the younger side, definitely not older than me but not much younger either.

I don’t let that deter me though as I use my knees to hold his arms down against the ground before I deliver my own punches against his face, over and over and over again. My rings dig into his skin, drawing blood with each hit before I feel someone pull me away from him.

The deep voice of whoever is holding me lets out a chuckle, “Tuktirey never mentioned how feisty she is.” The man’s arms hold me in a painfully strong grip, one of his arms pushing my chest against his while his other holds my lower half against him as well. His height keeps me up from the ground and his strength keeps me from escaping despite my attempts at wiggling out of his grasps.

“Get your grimy hands off of me,” I grit.

I don’t get a response as the guy who’d first attack me stalks over to me. His face is angered, “You weak demons are a pest to our home!” he shouts.

“Weak?” I laugh. “You should say that to the side of your face.”

His eyes fume with anger and the next thing I know a fist is swinging across my face, more specifically my nose. “Shit,” I mumble, feeling my blood drip from my nose down to my lips. My eyes flicker up to him, “What did I do to you?”

“What have you done?” he scoffs. “Your race has plagued our land, killed many of my people.”

“I am not them though. I am not human!”

“But their blood runs through you.”

“As it did your Olo’eyktan,” I point out. “And I know you would not call him a demon.”

“You dare compare yourself to our leader?” he questions, his anger furthering. “He passed through the eye of Eywa, you are nothing but an enemy. And I’m gonna make sure you know never to return here.”

I don’t get to argue my innocence when I notice him reach for the blade on his hip. I can’t even seem to think of words to speak so I try to maneuver my way out of the man behind me’s arms again to no avail.

I am forced to be still when the boy points his blade up to my throat, I knew my frantic movement would only risk me being cut. “Not so talkative now are we?” he asks, moving the blade down my throat and to the base of my neck where my necklaces sat.

I feel the blade hook on one of them before inevitably severing the string that held it together. “No,” I whimper, hating how much I seemed to care about my necklace.

The boy behind me laughs as the one before me continues dragging his blade lower and lower. He grimaces as it runs over my top, the journey of the blade ending when it reaches the waist beads Tuk had made for me. He scoffs, “You cover yourself in these demon clothes yet still try to wear our sacred jewelry. You disgust me.”

His words hit a low place that I hate myself for letting him reach because I was truly witnessing the hatred that my genetics alone brought me. The sound of more beads hitting the ground alarms my ears and my heart sinks to my stomach.

He’d cut it, he’d cut the beautiful piece of jewelry that Tuk made specifically for me. My brain doesn’t stay on that fact for too long though when I feel a sharp pain in my side. I let my head drop and I am met with the sight of slow, dripping red.

He’d cut me. With no remorse, he’d dragged his blade through my skin and cut me.

All the hope I'd built up these past few weeks, all the joy I'd let the Sully’s bring me is gone. Because this very moment makes me realize that everything was, in fact, too good to be true. 

To the rest of the na’vi I'd always be the enemy. I would always be the demon that haunts their nightmares and lurks around their clan. There would never be a place for me here.

I don’t fight when the boy brings the knife back up towards my face. I am too drained by the pain that scorches my body and mind. If this very moment would be my last I’d pray that Eywa would release me of all the pain I’d seemed to be forced to feel my whole life. Or at least from this very painful and humiliating moment.

As if my thoughts had transcended my mind and into the spiritual plane, the two boys seemingly got distracted by a noise. A look of fear strikes their faces before I feel the boy behind me release me and my knees hit the ground with a thud. 

I don’t mind whatever the sound was, not when my eyes land on the beads on the ground in front of me. I’d already known what Tuk had made for me was broken, but I hadn’t realized which necklace he had cut. But when I notice the dark green and purple beads I feel my heart break more. My eyes instantly water, the prospect of my favorite necklace being a victim of this shit finally pushing me to my breaking point.

I only let a few tears before I’m wiping them away at the sound of someone approaching.

“Y/n?”

…oh shit

- - -

Neteyam

When I decided to go for an evening walk I thought the only thing I’d find was a bit of peace after another day with a packed schedule. Imagine my surprise when I end up finding Y/n on her sitting on her knees in the center of a nearby clearing.

I called out her name but received no response as I walked closer. “Y/n?” I try again, squatting before her. Despite my obvious presence her head continues to hang low, her face hidden from me. I look to find what she’s looking for, my eyes trailing to the patch of grass between us.

I see beads, a pile of them each in which I associated with her jewelry, “Oh no, they broke,” I say. I am about to offer my help in fixing them when I notice her shaky hands that are placed on her knees. One of her hands is covered in blood, “Y/n? What did you do?”

She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t look at me. She just shakes her head ‘no’ her head still drooped low towards the ground.

I let out a heavy sigh before I reached for her chin forcing her to look at me. When her eyes meet mine I feel my stomach sink. Her normally bright eyes are sad and glassy, her cheeks a light shade of red that couldn’t possibly compare to the red that came from the gash on her temple. 

“Who did this to you?” I ask, my voice stern enough to make the point that when I do find whoever it was, they would end up being the ones bruised and battered.

She shakes her head. She tries to shy her sad face back towards the ground but my hand on her chin prevents it. “Y/n, please tell me,” I practically beg. “Please tell me so I can help you.”

“I’m fine, Neteyam,” she says, her voice softer and on the verge of breaking. “I don’t need help.” She moves to stand, the simple movement making her wince. Her body shifts forward almost colliding with mine. She pushes her arms out in an attempt to stop herself from falling onto me but it’s my hands on her waist that end up stopping the fall.

“Ow,” she squeaks the second my hands land on her warm waist. Her body tenses again, her weight shifting forward the rest of the way until she is closer than she’s ever been before, her head on my shoulder and her arms squeezing around my neck.

The position would have otherwise made me very flustered, I’d rarely been this close to a woman that wasn’t family. But with the way that she tenses against me, her hands in fists and her head pushed against my neck, I knew that something was wrong. “What is it, Y/n? You have to tell me something.” 

She shakes her head against me before speaking again, “Can you please just move your hand? Please.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, instantly dropping my hands. “Sorry,” I apologize for forcing such an intimate touch.

“It’s okay,” she exhales, her body only untensing a bit. Her breath tickles my shoulders, in light shaky exhales.

For a split second I wondered why she was still latching onto me, especially when she had not wanted me to touch her. Before I can question her I feel something warm and wet on my thigh. Peaking over her shoulder, I looked down to my thigh where my hand rested. Deep red blood coats the palm of my hand, some of it smeared on my thigh from when I’d dropped them.

“Oh, Eywa,” I mumble, maneuvering my head to better see her waist where I suspected the wound was. I find my suspicions to be correct when I see the deep gash in her side that slowly continues to bleed. “Y/n, you are bleeding,” I point out.

I mentally scolded myself, maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on the fact that she was so close, I would have noticed the injury quicker. I could have gotten help sooner.

“I know,” her voice interrupts my thinking.

“And you weren't going to say anything?” She shakes her head once more. I let out a heavy sight, bringing my hand up to her face, pulling her away enough so that I could look at her when I speak to her. Her eyes that were pooled with tears, her ears that were lowered, her face that was no longer red but paler than normal. “Y/n, you are hurt. Why not tell me?”

Her lip quivers into a frown, her eyes darting away when she speaks, “I’m embarrassed.”

“I know I met you merely a month ago, but I promise you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything around me,” I tell her, my words encouraging her to finally make eye contact with me. “Okay?”

For once in the past moment, she nods. “Okay,” she repeats, a blink making two distinct tears fall onto her cheeks. Without a second thought my thumb moves to wipe them away. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for crying, skxawng,” I tell her, letting out a small laugh that makes her smile. My heart warms up at the simple curve her mouth makes. “Now, would you please tell me what happened?”

I dread the sight of her shaking her head ‘no’ again. “It doesn’t matter,” she tells me. “Can you just help me back to the lab so Norm can help me?”

I let out a sigh, accepting the fact that I wasn’t getting any info out of her right now. “Yes, of course I can help you. But I think we should go see Mo’at, the village is much closer than the lab.”

Her face is uneasy for a moment but she agrees, “Yeah, okay. Will you help me up?”

“Of course,” I say, moving my hand from her face to help lift her up by her upper waist. She winces as she stands to her full height, mumbling curses beneath her breath. “You okay?”

“Mhmmm,” she hums as she sends me a forced smile. She steps a step back out of my hands and despite how she's tensed in pain she says, “See? I’m all good.”

“If you say so,” I shrug.

The pace of our walk was slow seeing as Y/n’s wound made her significantly impacted her movement. She’d stopped two times already in the past 8 minutes, hunching over to try and relieve her pain with deep breaths. I’d asked if she wanted me to carry her the rest of the 15 minute walk back to the clan but she declined, still claiming she was ‘fine.’

“Okay wait,” she says, only two minutes after her last stop. This time, leaning her back against a nearby tree. She squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to catch her staggering breath, that’s when I decide I wouldn’t put up with her torturing herself like this.

She squeals when I pick her up. Her eyes popping open and her ears shooting up, arms instantly wrapping around my neck to keep herself from falling. “What are you doing? Put me down!” she exclaims. She flails her arms and legs in an attempt to wiggle out of my hold as if I wasn’t twice her size.

“Mawey,” I hissed. “Keep fighting me and you will hurt yourself even more.” (Calm)

She begrudgingly listens, stopping her struggling although she folds her arms in front of her. I held her as I would Tuk, though an obvious size difference, one arm holding her around the waist and my other hand holding up her leg in front of me. She glares up at me through her lashes, “I am fine to walk, I am not a baby.”

“You are stubborn like one,” I scoff.

“Hey!” she exclaims, slapping my chest in annoyance.

I laugh at the weak hit, “You hit like one too.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses, arms hitting at my chest begging for me to put her down.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” I laugh, gripping at her harder to keep her still. “I have no doubt that you are capable of walking back to the village on your own. But you are obviously in pain and I could get you to Mo’at much faster this way.”

She huffs out a breath, “Fine.”

“Thank, Eywa,” I mumble, glad I had finally broken through her wall of stubbornness. My words make her laugh a bit although she tells me to ‘shut up’ in between breath giggles. As I begin walking, her arms loosely find their way back around my neck for support. 

She looks around as we walk, taking in the forest in a way I’d seen her do almost every time she was in it. As if she could never get enough of it. Eventually her head gently falls forward onto my shoulder, her head nuzzling into the crook of my neck in a way that makes my heart flutter for some reason.

I ignore that feeling though when she asks me a question, “Will you at least let me walk when we get to the village?”

I nod, understanding why she’d not want to be seen carried like this in front of the people she was trying to impress. 

The rest of the walk is calm, I feel her body somewhat untense a bit more. I think I enjoyed the closeness a bit too much; the way her arms rested on my shoulders, the way she smelt so perfect and sweet, the way that her legs were practically wrapped around my waist…

Oh fuck, what’s wrong with me?

I will myself away from my absurd thoughts, telling myself I was tired and that’s what's making me feel so weird. 

That’s all.

- - -

When we finally arrived on the outskirts of the village I let Y/n down from my arms. She walks slowly beside me as we enter the village, her head low and her arm attempting to cover her bloody side.

It was getting pretty late so most of the clan had been in their homes for dinner. The few people that were still out didn’t seem to notice us as they were too distracted by something else. I look over into the direction of my family's hut where my father speaks with two of our younger na’vi.

He looks angered by whatever they were telling him. His eyes flicker up, noticing me but more specifically the girl at my side. I am confused when he calls us over, gently tapping Y/n’s arm to direct her in the new direction.

She obliges as she looks up to see where we were going, but when she sees my angry father she abruptly stops walking, “No.”

“What?” I ask, turning to her.

She shakes her head, “Don’t make me speak to him.”

I feel my heart pound at her desperate wish. Why was she so scared to speak with him? She’d never reacted like this before.

I step closer, grabbing her small hand and squeezing it, “Come on, it’s just my dad you have nothing to fear.”

“But what if he is mad at me?” she asks lowly as I gently pull her to keep walking with me.

“I highly doubt he is,” I tell her. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

As we approach I finally am able to recognize the two boys. Oray and Kumo. They used to be friends with Lo’ak, always getting into trouble until one of their little tricks had gotten Tuk hurt. Lo’ak dropped them after that and I’d hardly heard about anything involving them in a while, well until now.

The side of Kumo’s face was bloody, deep scars ripping into his skin. Had these two been the ones to hurt Y/n? I am angered by the fact that they would do that but also pleased that the sight that my father had already found out and began reprimanding them, or so I thought he had.

“You tried to attack these boys?” my father asks Y/n when we finally join the small group.

“What?” Y/n asks, eyes flickering to Kumo who stood to my other side. The glare she sends him is one I've never even thought of seeing from her, one filled with so much anger that, for Kumo’s sake,  I am glad I am standing between the two. She drops my hand, hers balling into fists as her eyes flicker back to my dad, “I did not attack anyone.”

“Look at her hand,” Oray said, drawing attention to her bloody fist adorned in equally bloody rings.

My father looks down at her hand, frowning at the fact that it was definitely the fist used against Kumo’s face. “Then why is your hand bloody?” he asks.

“I was just defending myself, I promise.” she said, before pointing to Kumo. “That knucklehead is the one who attacked me!”

“I did not!” he argues, looking down angrily at Y/n. “Oray and I were just going for a walk and you picked an argument with us about how you were superior because you have human blood like our Olo'ekytan once had. You compared yourself to him and when we disagreed you swang on me.”

“What?!” Y/n scoffs in disbelief, “That is total bullshit! You can’t possibly believe this?” she asks my father.

My father looks at her with a look that says he was not totally believing her. My chest burns in anger, Y/n had not done anything wrong since she got here and he was actually about to take the side of two known troublemakers?

That’s when I decided to speak up, “Dad, look at her. We both know that she is smarter than to just attack two na’vi when she’s giving her all into training to be one of us. She’s been hurt to an extent that is totally uncalled for.”

“He cut me,” Y/n points out, her voice lower than before.

My father’s eyes flicker down to Y/n’s side taking in the gash that he seemed to only notice now. His jaw tightens in anger that he now directs to Kumo, awaiting a response.

 “What?” Kumo asks in almost disbelief. “Yes, I admit to fighting back but I never cut her. She’s trying to cram me, I don’t even have a blade on me!”

All of our eyes trail to the sides of both Kumo and Oray, Kumo was right he nor Oray had blades on them. When my father and I look back to Y/n her angry gaze is set on Kumo. “You fucking liar!” she exclaims, stepping from my side to approach him. Kumo steps up too, his stance taller and fists balled as if he was ready to take on any fight she was about to put up.

Luckily my father and I reacted fast, my arm shooting out in front Y/n to push her back to my side and my dad reaching forward to push Kumo back. “Tiftang si!” he hisses, before his attention goes back to Y/n. Her outburst seemed to turn his favor away from Y/n again. “Maybe I should have thought harder about allowing you here,” he grits. (Stop!)

“What?” Y/n breathes quietly, her ears shooting down and her mouth frowning.

“Dad,” I say, drawing his attention to me. “Maybe we should handle this tomorrow. It’s far too late to take such big choices into reconsideration. And Y/n is still bleeding and I’d like to get her to Mo’at before eclipse.”

I’d normally never stand up to my father in such a way, or attempt to tell him what to do. But in this case, I know Y/n far more than he does and I refuse to let him make such a big decision when I know she would never do anything like this.

My father lets out a deep huff, “Fine. Bring her to Mo’at and straight back to the lab. And you two get back to your tents.” He turns away and enters our hut before we all disperse into separate directions.

I hold Y/n’s wrist as I guide her towards Mo’at’s tent, though for a split second my attention stays behind us and the two boys that walk in the opposing direction. I strongly believe that they are lying, but when I see them smile and high five one another, it’s all confirmed to me. I just had to prove it to my father.

-  -  -

When we enter the hut, Mo’at’s attention is instantly on Y/n and I. I let go of her wrist, bringing my fingers to my forehead, a greeting of respect that says ‘I see you.’ Y/n mimics my movement earning us a nod of recognition for Mo’at. “What is the matter, my child?” she asks me from where she stands.

“Um, she is hurt,” I say, gesturing to the girl beside me.

“Come,” she says. Y/n steps from my side, hesitantly looking back at me before moving to the center of the hut. Mo’at moves to Y/n, inspecting her face before looking down and noticing the cut in her side. “This cut is deep.”

“Can you help her?”

“Of course,” she says, stepping away from Y/n and turning to her supply wall. “I just need to prepare the right supplies. You clean her face while I do so.”

“Yes ma’am,” I say. Y/n turns around to face me before I move to grab a bowl of water and two cloths as well as the cream my grandmother often used whenever I got cuts in battle. “Sit,” I tell her when I finally make it back in front of her.

She slowly lowers herself to the ground, wincing at the movement before she crosses her legs in front of her. I sit before her with similarly crossed legs. So close that my knees pressed against the thick fabric of the pants she’d taught me were called ‘cargo’s.’

She watches me as I dip one of the clothes into the bowl of the water. I wring it out before facing her again. One of my hands held the side of her face while the other started to clean the dried blood that had come from her nose. 

Though I’ve known her for a month I have still not gotten over our dramatic size difference. I am always shocked by the way that, although she’s fully grown, she still barely stood to the height of my midchest. Or the way that things I could do with one had, she had to do with two.

I never really minded it, she and her brother were different from us so it would just be a bit of an adjustment. I could always get myself not to mind the difference though, until today.

After today I can’t stop thinking about the way that my hand could completely wrap around her wrist, and how it felt so big when holding her tiny hand. And how right now when I hold her face, my hand almost covers the entire side of her face.

Maybe her smallness is what provoked me to care so much about her. Yeah, that’s why I care so much. It’s my instincts telling me to protect her simply because of her size. Nothing more.

I move carefully as I clean the blood from her nose. A part of me fears that if I was too rough with her little face I would break her but another part of me knows that is irrational thinking. “Does this hurt?” I ask her, tapping over her nose.

She shakes her head, “No.”

“Okay, good then. I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Yayyy,” she gently sings as I move on to cleaning the blood and dirt off her face.

I notice myself purposefully avoiding the gash on her temple, knowing that it would hurt to clean. But when everything is wiped off, I know that I have no other choice but to get it over with. I gently dab the towel on the gash. Y/n instantly winces, her head pushing further against my hand. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“No, it’s okay. Keep going.”

Doing as told, I continue dabbing at the wound, removing as much blood as possible all while trying to ignore the occasional wince that came from Y/n. When it was all clean I returned the cloth to the bowl, switching to hold the smaller bowl that held the ointment that helped scars like this heal within a matter of days.

I collect a bit of it with my fingers before moving to hold her face once more. I forget to warn her how much my grandmother's ointments stung until I smear a bit onto her temple. “Ow! Shit, Nete, stop!” she screeches, hands grabbing at my forearms to pull me away.

Her ears fall low against her head as she squeezes her eyes shut, seemingly processing the pain that’s randomly shot through her temple. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that her ointments are very strong,” I frown.

“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbles.

“But they work fast!” Mo’at calls from the other side of the tent.

I chuckle at the interjection, “Yes grandmother, and we are very thankful for that,” I call back. There were far more ointments that hurt way less but Mo’at always insisted on using what worked faster. In her eyes it was better to experience the pain now so we could heal quicker, and all we could do was agree. “You’re okay though, right?” I ask.

Y/n nods, “As okay as I will be I guess.” She lets go of her grasp on my arm that holds the paste but she continues to hold the one that was once placed on the side of her face. My heart pangs in my chest when she moves her hand to hold my wrist and guides my hand back to the side of her face. “Just make it fast?”

“Uh, yeah- of course,” I stammer, focusing back on the wound in an attempt to ignore her gentle hold on my wrist. I am fast when applying the rest of the ointment, this time having to ignore not only Y/n’s wincing, but the way she would squeeze my wrist in pain. “All done,” I mumble when I’m finished.

She deeply exhales as I move to wipe the tears from her face, “Finally, that hurt like a bitch”

I let out another chuckle, “I thought you said you were ‘all good.’”

She rolls her eyes at the way I brought up her past words, “I was mid adrenaline rush and could barely feel any of it, cut me some slack.”

“Adrenaline?” I question, eyes trailing to the hand that held my wrist. I notice the dried blood that still stains her knuckles. I take my hand from her face and her hand from my wrist, holding it in my lap as I gently removed her rings. 

“It’s um- it’s a hormone that is produced in stressful situations,” she explains as she watches me remove and drop her rings into the bowl of water beside me. “It allows you to move quicker in stressful situations.”

“What is a hormone?” I ask, wringing out the wet cloth again to clean the dried blood from her hands.

She giggles before explaining, “It’s like a um- like a special chemical that your body makes to help you do certain things.”

“You are a nerd,” I tell her, taking the dry cloth to dry off her hand before using the same cloth to dry her rings. Before questioning whether or not I was properly using the word Spider taught me, “I think that’s how you use that word.”

A soft chuckle falls from her lips as I gently push her rings back onto her fingers, “Are you trying to say that I am overly enthusiastic about science?”

“Yes.”

“Well then yes, you are using it correctly. But to that I say, there is no such thing as overly enthusiastic about something as interesting as science.”

I roll my eyes at her as I push the last ring on, “Yes, you are definitely a nerd according to Spider. But I take back what I said in the clearing.”

She playfully rolls her eyes, “You said a lot in the clearing.”

“I take back what I said about you hitting like a baby,” I clarify, pointing out the bruises that persisted on her now clean knuckles. 

She laughs again calling me an ‘idiot’ under her breath when Mo’at finally approaches. “I am ready,” she tells us.

Y/n’s face drops when she seemingly remembers that she had more scars to be healed. Her eyes follow me as I rise, “Where are you going?” she asks almost frantically.

“Nowhere. Just giving Mo’at space to work,” I tell her, moving to standing behind her as Mo’at sits in my previous spot.

“Lean back,” Mo’at tells her as she wrings out another wet cloth. Y/n leaned back, holding herself up with her hands, she moved slowly when the movement seemed to stretch the gash on her side. Despite the discomfort she sits still as Mo’at inspects the wound, only wincing when she begins dabbing it with a wet cloth. Once the wound is clean Mo’at speaks again, “I think this will need the stitches.”

“What?” Y/n squeals, sitting back up and folding her arms over the wound.

“It is a deep wound. Stitches will help seal it,” Mo’at explains. Many people from our clan would also have surprised reactions like this when Mo’at talked about the method of ‘stitching’ that the scientists had introduced to her. Many hated it was very painful, but it did make for better healing.

Y/n shakes her head, pushing herself away from Mo’at and towards me, “But I don’t like needles.”

Mo’at sighs as she still proceeds to pick up the needle and string, “It will help.”

At the sight of the needle, Y/n pushes away once more. This time her back collides with the front of my legs. She looks up at me, her only readable expression being one of complete terror. “Please ask her not to,” she frowns.

“But it’s going to help you,” I say, squatting down behind her, my hands landing on her shoulders to comfort her but also in an attempt to keep her still.

“I am ready,” Mo’at states, needle in hand.

“No!” Y/n exclaims, roughly pushing herself back one more time. This time she lands between my legs, her back against my abdomen as she pulls her own legs up to ball herself up. Her hands find her face as if hiding herself would remove her from the situation. 

“Keep her still,” Mo’at huffs.

“How am I supposed to-” I sigh. “You know what..” I drop down to sit criss-cross on the floor once again. This time I pulled Y/n with me so that her back was against my chest and I could hold her arms still. Despite my grasp though she still tries to wiggle out of my arms.

“Hey, this is not fair!” Y/n exclaims when she realizes that her wiggling would not get her out of my arms.

“You need to calm down. It will be over much faster if you'd stop fighting us!”

She only wiggles for a moment longer before complying. Her arms relax and her head defeatedly falls back against my chest, “Fine.” She pushes her legs back down to give Mo’at access to her stomach.

Mo’at sighs again as she moves to Y/n’s side, finally able to begin stitching up the wound. Y/n tenses when the needle inserts her skin. Her eyes squeeze shut as she breathes out a few curses before her teeth catch her bottom lip. She bites down on it so hard that I fear her pointed canine may pierce the skin. I let go of my arms around her, bringing my thumb up to release her lip from between her teeth.

Her eyes snap open, looking up at me as if she is wondering why I had stopped her from biting her lip. I don’t give a verbal response, instead I reach for her hands that she’d had balled up in pain but also in efforts of not pushing away again. I unball them and hold them, squeezing them gently hoping that squeezing my hand could be a better way for her to express her pain than biting holes through her lip.

Luckily, she understands, her hand squeezing at mine as Mo’at continues her stitches. I must admit I understand why Y/n was so fearful of this, simply watching it be done made me want to wince and look away myself. 

It only takes about 10 minutes for Mo’at to finish the stitches. The second the sound of her cutting the strings rings through the air, Y/ns grip on my hand loosens. She looks back up at me before looking over to Mo’at, “Are we done?” she asks, her voice portraying the same lack of energy that her body gave off.

“Almost,” Mo’at mumbles before smearing ointment across the entirety of the stitches.

“OH FUCK!” Y/n basically screams, her whole body shooting up from where it partially rested on me and the ground. When she comes back down her head slams against my chest as her hands that still hold mine fly to her face as she covers it once more. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeatedly mumbles.

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask, looking down at her as my thumb mindlessly grazes across her soft knuckles.

Her eyes peep up at me from through her hands, “Cussing in front of Mo’at.” She pushes herself up in an attempt to sit up. I let go of her hands and hold her up, “I am so sorry,” she repeats.

Mo’at shakes her head, with all the men she helped on the daily she was used to curses being thrown out. She knew that they were never directed towards her. But the fact that Y/n even considered cursing in front of the Tsahik as disrespectful seemed to make Mo’at smile a bit, “Don’t fret, child. I am all done and you may leave once Neteyam has wrapped your wound.”

Y/n lets out a grateful exhale, smiling up at my grandmother, “Thank you.”

Mo’at nods as she begins collecting her things, “No thanks are needed.”

When Mo’at rises from her spot I move Y/n off of my body so I can sit in front of her. Though the process was painful I can tell that she looks a bit more relieved than before. “Feeling better?” I ask.

She nods, “It still stings a bit, but not as bad.”

“Well this should help,” I mumble as I reach over to the wooden box of leaves Mo’at had left behind. “They are really cold and gooey but they soothe wounds like this,” I further explain as I lift the slimy leaf up.

Y/n leans back on her hands again, giving me more space to place the leaf along her side. She shivers as it clings to her skin, “That feels weird but.. it helps.”

I let out a small laugh as I reached for the gauze roll. It was something that Norm had introduced us to that Mo’at liked because it would protect wounds from being reinjured. 

I carefully bring my arms around her waist, wrapping the roll around her a couple times before cutting it. “Too tight?” I ask as I run my fingers along the end to make sure it would stay down.

“Um- no. No, it's perfect.”

“Okay good,” I smile. “Are we good to leave, grandmother?”

“Yes, yes,” Mo’at says, turning from what she was doing. “In the morning I will make an ointment for her to apply during the next two weeks of healing. You will have to refrain from strenuous activity till then.”

I hear the small sound of Y/n’s breath hitching as she turns her upper body to face Mo’at, “What about my training? I only have two months left, I can’t waste two weeks.”

“I’m sorry, dear. But you must prioritize your health. No training for two weeks.”

Mo’at’s words are final, making Y/n’s ears lower as she responds, “Yes, ma’am.”

When she turns back to me she has a deep frown that I can’t help but reciprocate. “Let’s get you home,” I say, as I stand before helping her up to her feet. We give our goodbyes to Mo’at before we finally leave.

Eclipse has fallen by the time we exit the hut. The walk to the lab was long and quiet, our path illuminated by the fluorescent glow of the forest. Seeing as she was feeling much better, Y/n walked on her own though her head stayed hung to the floor. I knew she was sad about missing so much training, but seeing her so beat up about it really began to break my heart.

I didn’t speak till we got to the lab, “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

She shakes her head as she turns back to me, finally looking up, “Don’t be you didn’t do anything.”

“I know, but still. Just please don’t worry about the training. Just get better, okay?”

She nods, “M’kay. Bye Nete.”

“Bye, Y/n,” I say as she turns and approaches the lab door. She sends me one last look before she enters, leaving me alone in the forest. 

Though as I begin walking back to the village my brain is overflowed with a million thoughts.

How will I help her get her training done?

What the hell happened in the clearing with Kumo?

How do I get my father to believe Y/n was innocent?

And just like that there is so much more on my to-do list. Yet I am eager to answer the questions because if there is one thing I know, it's that Y/n does not deserve any of this and I would fight to prove that even if it’s the last thing I do.

-  -  -

A/N: AGH I AM FINALLY POSTING!!! I am so sorry this took so long I could not focus for the life of me and then I kept wanting to add more. BUT I hope the Neteyam fluff makes up for it hehe! Much love to you all- Mak

Taglist:

(A special thanks to you guys for your support <3)

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @peachycrime @jackiehollanderr @fanboyluvr @killua2dot0 @neteyamsbabymomma @lovedbychoi @aihimitsu @ken-zah @ghostmadeofglass

[aniron48]

friends were a fate that befell me

“What’s the film, then?” Bond asks, resigned. “And how did you know I would have a DVD player?” “Lucky guess,” Eve says, at the same time as Q offers, “Takes a relic to own a relic.” Bond sighs, and Tanner intervenes. “It’s Steel Magnolias,” he says. “Have you seen it?” “I can’t say that I have. Comedy or tragedy?” “Yes,” Q says, and that’s all anyone will tell him before the screen fills with the opening credits, and the camera pans to a young Daryl Hannah walking down the street.

My first creation for MI6 Café 007 Fest 2023! This fic is for @anyawen, who suggested the prompt lyric "friends were a fate that befell me" from the song "Dinner & Diatribes" by Hozier.

Trigger warning for grief and discussion of both M's death and losing an (adult) child, if these are things you need to treat tenderly right now.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but spoiler warning for Steel Magnolias, I guess, even though it came out in 1989.

You can read on ao3, or here, below the cut.

It’s two weeks to the day since Skyfall went up in flames when Tanner, Eve, and Q knock on the door of Bond’s new flat. It’s still so empty that their voices echo as they push inside, all talking at once.

“—figured you wouldn’t be doing anything—“

“Anyway, Q picked the movie, I hope you—“

“—told them you wouldn’t have any good snacks, so I’ve brought an assortment.”

They shuck off their jackets and leave them piled unceremoniously on Bond’s floor, revealing a ludicrous assortment of casual wear. Tanner is clad in navy joggers and a worn grey sweatshirt with the name of his university across the chest, and Moneypenny and Q are wearing pyjama separates. Eve’s are a respectable emerald green silk with white piping, while Q’s appear to have a Fair Isle print, but on closer inspection, reveal a pattern of snowflakes interspersed with the TARDIS from Doctor Who.

“What,” Bond says finally, over the din, “is all this?”

The three of them exchange significant glances until Eve gives in and answers.

“It’s been a bloody terrible two weeks,” she says. “And we thought you might like some company.”

She’s only half right. It has indisputably been a bloody terrible two weeks, but company is the last thing Bond needs. He’d been intending to spend the evening much as he had the last several before it: waiting to be sent back into the field, replaying the events leading up to M’s death to decipher when it all went wrong, and drinking until he was able to fall asleep. 

“So you decided I needed a pyjama party with someone who shot me, someone who helped sell off my old flat, and someone who still has spots?” He says instead. It’s not so much that his hackles are up, as that he’s certain theirs ought to be. It’s a slippery slope from whatever this is to forgiveness, and from forgiveness to trust, and he’s just proven with spectacular aplomb exactly why trusting him is a bad idea.

But Q just looks at him over the rim of his glasses. “I see you’ve still only got the one joke, 007. You might consider another.”

And then he’s making himself at home on Bond’s expensive, uncomfortable leather couch, with Moneypenny on the other end. She hands Tanner a pillow and he sits on the floor with it, leaning back against her legs. Bond is forced to squeeze between Q and Moneypenny, but instead of shifting away, they both lean in even further. Moneypenny has produced a pair of fuzzy blankets from somewhere, and they settle in as if they are here to stay.

It’s ridiculous, is what it is. He needs neither comfort nor coddling; he has lived long enough without either that their sudden appearance registers somewhere in his hypothalamus as equal parts bewilderment and threat. It would be best, now that he’s officially back from either Turkey or the dead, depending on how one looks at it, to reestablish some boundaries. This is not the kind of fraternization he is wont to engage in. But he’s hemmed in by his colleagues and their soft pyjamas and their ridiculous blankets, and James Bond, the man who once escaped from a locked ice chest in the back of a burning train plummeting down a mountain pass in Kazakhstan, decides that he is effectively trapped, and may as well stay where he is.

“What’s the film, then?” Bond asks, resigned. “And how did you know I would have a DVD player?”

“Lucky guess,” Eve says, at the same time as Q offers, “Takes a relic to own a relic.”

Bond sighs, and Tanner intervenes. “It’s Steel Magnolias,” he says. “Have you seen it?”

“I can’t say that I have. Comedy or tragedy?”

“Yes,” Q says, and that’s all anyone will tell him before the screen fills with the opening credits, and the camera pans to a young Daryl Hannah walking down the street.

Bond has not exactly made a habit of watching films about the American South in the 1980s, so he’s not sure what to expect. He’s taken in by the banter and the witticisms and Dolly Parton’s sky-high hairdo, and thus, despite Q’s earlier comment, he is unprepared when the film takes a turn for the tragic. Even so, he can admit that Sally Field is masterful playing M’Lynn Eatenton as she mourns her daughter, taking a scene from heartbreaking to hilarious and back again as her friends gather around her to help her grieve. It is nothing short of wrenching in its raw humanity. Q and Moneypenny are both openly weeping as they watch, holding each other’s hands through it in a way that would be sweet were they not further infringing on Bond’s personal space by doing so across his lap. Tanner is dabbing manfully at his eyes with a napkin, his wine gums and Stella forgotten beside him on the floor. Bond swallows. The back of his throat feels tight. He must be getting a cold.

“I just sat there. I just held Shelby's hand,” M’Lynn is saying onscreen, “There was no noise, no tremble, just peace. Oh god. I realize as a woman how lucky I am. I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life and I was there when she drifted out. It was the most precious moment of my life.”

It is nothing at all like when M died. He was holding her when she died, yes, but the similarity ends there. Though it was quiet in the chapel, too, he supposes, the explosions and the guns all gone silent. It was quiet enough that Bond heard the moment she stopped breathing. 

He absolutely would never have called her a wonderful creature, or anything approximating it. Anything approaching an honest sobriquet would be unrepeatable, the sort of thing that was banned on the BBC. And yet he understands, deep in whatever is left of his soul, what M’Lynn means when she says it was precious, to be there at the end, knows what it means to have inhabited a moment that is profuse with grief and horror and regret, and yet somehow limned with the holy: to have been there, to have been alive together, and then alive alone, as she left all of it behind. To know that part of him is in that moment, still, and maybe always will be.

Bond clears his throat, then looks around. Tanner is at the wrong angle to see his face, and Moneypenny and Q are very pointedly not looking at him, and there is nowhere, he realizes, that will be safer than this uncomfortable couch in his empty flat, surrounded by elite members of Britain’s intelligence services who are nonetheless willing to pretend that he’s crying over M’Lynn Eatenton mourning her daughter’s death. He clears his throat once more, and lets the tears come.

There is no drastic sea change, after, once the film has ended and he has seen Q and Moneypenny and Tanner and their bags of snacks out of his flat. He doesn’t stop drinking or replaying what went wrong or seeing Skyfall in his uneasy dreams. He doesn’t suddenly join Q and Moneypenny for their boozy brunches or agree to watch a match with Tanner down at the pub. But from time to time, when they meet in the halls of MI6, Tanner will say, “My COLORS are BLUSH and BASHFUL” in the worst approximation of a Southern accent that Bond has ever heard, and when Bond walks into Q Branch without all of his gear, Q will sigh and say, “If he’s trying to drive me crazy, it’s too late” in a surprisingly accurate one. What he feels in those moments isn’t exactly peace, he doesn’t think, but it is the closest he has come in a long, long time.

In memory of N and P. Every moment with you was precious.

[other-w-0-rldly]

KOALAK IV

DISCLAIMER: You may NOT copy, reproduce, distribute, publish, display,translate my work in any way shape or form.

"They are making them take out their weapons."

Ophilia whispered while glancing out the small carriage window worriedly, both girls could hear various voices coming from outside. They were glad, they were fast learners and could pick up on the language rapidly.

Adira was just breathing in and out and trying to prepare herself for what might happen. She had a long time on the road to think about what the Dothraki could do to her. A witch cursed there Khal claiming she was going to heal him. What would happen to her if she failed?

The locals might think she is a witch coming to take their Khal away. How would she convince them she was not a witch? What would happen to her sister if they cut her head off? Adira was not scared of death. She was ready to meet the gods, but she was scared for Ophilia. A young foreign girl all alone in the middle of a Dothraki horde.

The carriage door was yanked open, and Ramon stood there. Adira could see some Dothraki behind him. Most of them were looking at the carriage curiously trying to catch a glimpse of the foreigners but a lot of them were also looking angrily at them.

"My Lady Adira, Lady Ophilia, should we turn around? I could easily..."

"Running away from horse lords? That is your great idea? Ser Ramon, please. I Came here for a reason." Adira could not believe Ramon would suggest this. It was a stupid idea, but she was not going to tell him that.

Adira grabbed at her dress and walked out of the carriage in the blinding sun. She could hear the murmurs and whispers as she turned around and beckoned her little sister out.

Ophilia got out the carriage and instantly hid herself behind her sister.

A young woman approached them and surprised them by speaking the common tongue.

"My lady, my name is Irri. I was the one helping the Khaleesi when she was still here." Irri was a petite woman, but Adira could hear her strength in her words.

"Thank you Irri. I will be happy to help your Khal. This is my sister, Ophilia. She accompanied me to learn about the Dothraki. Your customs and traditions." I smiled at Irri and Ophilia stepped forward and smiled back shyly greeting Irri in Dothraki.

"Good. Very good pronunciation, Lady Ophilia." Irri said then she turned around addressing the crowd, probably informing them what Adira told her.

Instantly there was an uproar. The whispers turned into loud talking and Adira could make out some words, Witch, Murderer, Koalak Healer, Princess, Whore and many more words she couldn't decipher.

Adira decided she had had enough of the terms they were using to describe her and her sister and stepped forward and addressed them in their tongues.

"I am Adira Odarys. You asked for a healer to come and heal your Khal and I will heal him. I know someone lied to you. But trust me. If you don't trust me with healing your Khal, find me someone that I can heal for you. I will show you what I can do. I have never lied in my life, and I will not start today."

There was more whispers until the crowd started to part slightly and a young man walked forward gripping the hand of an older man. Adira could tell that the young man was no more than sixteen and the man he was pulling behind him was probably his father. They both looked alike down to the nose shape and the braid they were supporting. The only difference was the young man had green eyes and the older man had icy grey eyes.

"My father wishes to fight for the Khal again, Witch! If you are what you say, make him see again. If you can't heal him, the horses are not the only thing we will be riding."

Adira could feel Ophilia gripping her arm and pulling her back slightly, but Adira ripped her arm out and stepped forward.

"You can bring him forward." Adira was not scared of him or his threat. She knew who she was and what she could do.

The young rider brought his father forward and Adira could hear the older man muttering under his breath. Probably praying.

She placed her right hand on his shoulder and left hand on this face covering his eyes.

The man was shivering definitely scared.

"It will not hurt, we swear." Ophilia quietly mutters.

Adira closes her eyes and let the power flow through her entire body to her palm. She could feel it coming from her heart travelling through her entire body, even to her toes and lastly to her palm and fingertips.

After a few minutes, Adira smiled and opened her eyes, removing her palm from his face.

"Open your eyes and look at your son again." The man did so hesitantly. "I knew your son would have the same eyes as you."

Instantly, Adira could see the man tear up whilst he was looking around, smiling almost like a child. His eyes fell on his son, and he walked quickly towards him grabbing him by the arms.

"Tala!"

"Ave! You can see me?"

"Yes! She is a healer!" the older man says smiling and looking around.

The crowd gasped and a lot of them started walking towards Adira, touching her shoulder and hair, claiming she will bless them and their families.

"You have impressed again, sister. Father will be proud." Ophilia said excitedly.

Adira smiled but then felt a pull on her hand. She looked down at it and could see a small girl pulling her away from the crowd, then more women surrounded her. She quickly reached for Ophilia with her other hand and pulled her with them.

All the girls were giggling and Irri says excitedly.

"It is time for you to heal the Khal now."

They got to a much larger tent guarded with two Dothraki riders on each side of the doorway. The other girls let go of Adira and Irri pulls her towards the tent entrance. Adira looked back at Ophilia, but the latter was too busy talking and giggling with the other girls to see her sister getting pulled in the tent.

As soon as she walked in, she gasped seeing the much larger man lying on the bed like a statue. It did not even look like he was breathing.

His whole body was pale, and it looked like he was cold. And the wound on his chest made him look worse. It was angry and festering still with angry black veins webbing out towards the rest of his chest.

Adira glanced at Irri who was already staring at her.

"We normally leave him outside in the sun because he likes the warmth, but when we heard you were coming, we put him here."

"I understand" Adira whispers out. "I need the tent to be empty when I hear him. No one will be allowed to come inside."

"The witch said the same thing, she also said the dead would be dancing in his tent." Irri says quickly and clearly defensive.

"I am no witch Irri and I do not deal in dark magic. Only the one flowing through me." Adira knew it would take time to convince them, but she was determined. "Could you inform my sister that healing the Khal will take longer than expected please, a week maybe. And tell the guards they are not allowed in the tent when I am healing him."

Irri nodded and left the tent, leaving me alone with the Khal.

DOTHRAKI TRANSLATION

KOALAK: Healer

AVE: Father

DISCLAIMER: You may NOT copy, reproduce, distribute, publish, display,translate my work in any way shape or form.

[harrison-abbott]

Heavy Wind

The wind was heavy with the storm and they could hear it all night and somewhere in the dark hours there was a loud bashing in the garden. In the morning he went outside. The wind had broken the side fence. The wooden planks all lopsided and awry. Wow, he thought. When he went into the kitchen she was boiling the kettle. Moody because she hadn’t slept. He told her what’d happened.

“Well, you better fix it then,” she said, “we can’t have a broken fence. Don’t want burglars. Can you fix it?” He said, yes, that he would try. “Hmm,” she said, after the kettle had clicked, and not looking at him, “well your Daddy wouldn’t have helped you to do that kind of thing so I’m not sure you would know.” He paused and blinked at her. He knew that she knew that his father had left him and his mother when he was very little and it was something that had always bothered him, because his Dad never came back. So he wondered why she should say that.

But he went down to the hardware store instead and bought some timber and nails and a hammer, with this prickly sense of threat writhing in his manhood.

And took all of the gear back to the house and he got working on repairing the fence. He hadn’t quite a clue what he was doing and her words were still in his ears and she wasn’t even in the house anymore [she’d gone out with her friends for coffee and dinner in town and he knew she’d be back late, very drunk] and the storm was picking up again, or rather it hadn’t gone away. The wind slashed the rain in myriad types of anguish. And the clouds just hurtled by overhead between these happy splotches of blue which seemed to mock everybody under the city.

He deciphered what to do with the nails and fumbled about with the timber, wondering how to wrap the confusion together. And he picked up the hammer and banged. And the banging seemed vindicative and violent and each blow restored a sense of reassurance in him and gradually he forgot about what she’d said earlier on, and forgot about his father as well. And all the whiles the sound of the wind grew less terrifying and rather explosive and lofty, like listening to a full symphony at close proximity.

[kycodenik]

Beyond the Veil of the Universe : Prologue

Scripted by KyCodeNik Edits + Revisions by Nikaro Cherry & VenusClarke Final Revisions by KyCodeNik

Lucy faced up towards the shadow, guiding her daughter - Venus - behind her as a set of red eye-like-beads pierced down to the two. An uncomfortable sense of pressure came upon the being’s attention; enough so to pressure one of the Original Lords of Mofril: Lucifer Stella. 

“-I..I understand that you’re going through a lot-” Lucifer cleared her throat, failing to maintain her prideful posture. Staggering back a few steps and invaded Venus’ personal space once the Shadow’s blazing-red eyes targeted their attention to her. A suffocating pressure caused the two to shiver as they met–or attempted to–their terrifying gaze.

With hesitant breath, both Stella’s tensed as the silence drowned long enough to cause discomfort. Venus shifted her nervous attention to Lucifer, no longer able to meet the Demon’s eyes any longer.

“-But even you realize…Dominik needs a parent to look after them;” Lucifer’s voice faintly trembled, enough for her daughter to catch on to it. “You’re working hard–I-I understand that–and the other children work with you.” She gulped down the rest of her words, fearing the outcome if she spoke further.

Fear. Is the only emotion Venus managed to understand at the moment. Clutching on Lucifer’s shirt for a sense of security, despite her sour expression at her unfinished sentence. However, for Lucifer to speak it all, was something Venus could not overlook.

The shadowed being opened it’s mouth, exhaling a breath that caused the other two to hold theirs. With one sentence–a threat? An order? A request? –it was difficult to decipher with the lack of emotion the being provided; not even a reassurance of tone due to the lack of empathy the being seemed to speak with.

“Silence is more befitting for you, Lucifer,” His voice shivered down their bodies, Venus’ instincts screamed for her to run and drag her mother with her–by any means. I would shut my mouth if I were you, Lucifer.

The message was clear, though for one party it seems. 

“Please-” Lucifer responded, earning another displeased scowl from the God. "I-I...p-please l-let-" A quiet stutter echoed behind Lucy, instant regret surfaced Venus’ throat as her voice spoke for her. Her attention meeting to the very thing she was becoming afraid of–and the unspoken order of their eyes already making Venus snap their mouth shut. Clutching Lucifer’s clothing so hard her knuckles were banshee-white. 

“I’m. Speaking,” He snarled, his eyes telling of how lowly he viewed Venus Stella, making the individual shiver and swell with tears.

As the Shadowed being turned his attention to Lucifer–she instantly fixed her posture; reassuring her daughter quietly as her attention fixated on him.

“If you believe, I will stand with your assumptions–” The man leaned down to Lucifer’s level-invading her personal space as she tried immensely to hide her emotions. “ –over brief mentions of inconveniences over my child…You are wrong,” Don’t speak like you know everything, when you don’t. 

The only being who can speak to a Lord in this manner. A mere Shadowed Devil with unholy capabilities and horrific solutions to major problems.

“I do not require you’re parenting advice,” His attention shifting to Venus, his sight knowing of her present path and the toll she has- it almost made it unbearably uncomfortable for them as they tried to hide behind Lucifer. “This matter is unrelated to that…This is about the Cult,-”

Lucy’s eyes widened as her face streaked with a crimson blush out of embarrassment. Nearly offended if it wasn’t for the change of topic. “I told you the matter will get worse and Dominik wou-”

“No, you do not understand” The being’s voice darkened - his orbs slowly rising to exaggerate his height-hovering over the Lord and her successor. “You do not seem to understand what a conversation is. You speak, I speak. Does it look like I was done?”

Lucifer scowled - an expression that didn’t exist for long once she met up the Devil’s fixated gaze. Finally gaining some form of courage to speak in return.

“It’s not just about…having a mother. It’s about the deeper sense of security that comes from knowing Dominik would be loved and protected-” Lucy spoke carefully-returning to the topic which began to anger the God before them.

The shadow stared at Lucifer. His eyes slit with the intent of murder, only to fizzle with restraint at the vague reminder of who exactly he was speaking to. Attempting to regain his loosing patience, which wasn't much. The Shadow had no right to be asking for any kind of respect from a being as high as Lucifer. Higher than himself. At least. The shadow looked back to Lucifer, taking in her words before finally responding with a frighteningly calm tone.

“.. Are you insinuating Dominik isn't loved, or protected under my care, Lucifer ?”

Yes, the thinking was short.

“No- I mean-” Lucy stammered, regret piling at her stomach.

“Strange,” The shadow spoke, a dark tone slithering as he spoke. “Your true thoughts are coming to light, Lucifer”

Lucifer shook her head. “No, I mean that you’re busy and a child requires-”

“-Dominik is old enough to no longer require simple coddling, Lucifer. Sixteen years, they have never lacked anything you claim they do. Love, protection, stability–they were perfectly quaint and never in deprivation as you may believe they are”

“-THEN WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF THEY WISH TO SEE THE WORLD?” Lucifer blurted, guiding Venus back- a poetic-yet-hypocritical set of words abandoning Lucifer’s body. 

The unholy being took one loud, confident, and angry step forward.

“Are you certain of your words, Lucifer…Are you positive of this path you’re so virtuously taking..?”

Lucifer bit her lip, finally-and shamefully-looked away. “...no,”

“Predictable,” A growl huffed over the two.

The shadow fixed his posture, and extended his palm forward. Air swirled like ribbons as a it formed a neatly kept filed holding the name ‘Dominik Auclair’ on it’s edge. Glancing back to the two. 

“...I will give you the legal Guardianship Agreement Documents. For you to hold full custody of Dominik.” He spoke, his attention sharpened as they both gawked at him in surprise. “And everyone will be happy. Correct..?”

Venus’ eyes widened, giving nervous glances between their mother and the document. Puzzled at why he even agreed if he seemed so against it- possibly even despised the idea of anyone else looking after Dominik.

“During the night.” He explained. “I do not know how it happened. But someone from the cult broke into my home. And tried to kill Dominik.” Both women remained silent, an uncomfortable shutter as they remained their attention to the Unholy God. “As I was thinking about a solution. Your words came into mind. Since you seem so resilient for Dominik to have a mother, you’ll be responsible for him for now on.”

Venus looked up at him nervously. Scattered words forming sentences as she tried to speak carefully, her voice shrilled and shivered as she tried to question the shift of the conversation “Are you sure this is what you want;;? I-I do-”

“Silence,” The temperature dropped to a near threatening level. As per his request, silence befitting the dead settled in the room, making Venus quake frightfully behind Lucifer- a protective arm against Venus as Lucifer faintly glared at the being.

Lucifer–on the other hand–was terrified, however despite the circumstances and the possibility of a violent end, she preferred to protect than potentially risk her child of any consequence. Giving this frightening God a final glance, before trying to make a decision.

“You have no other choice, Lucifer.” He spoke, pressing the thick personal documents in Lucifer’s chest- a faint threat underlining his words. “Don’t-” he hardened the pressure against the documents, as if squeezing her lungs himself seeing how Lucifer held her breath, and leaned towards Lucifer. “-make me regret this,” His eyes glowed, at the order he’s placed to Lord Lucifer Stella…and her child.

[robbiestuart]

@wicbkc:

Ten times worse? What kind of a statement was that? He should have not been throwing around numbers that meant nothing — their conversation was too serious to have room for vague measurements. Wiebke was sizzling. The conversation felt like a waste of time and it was only making the negative feelings inside of her run wild. They had filled her to the brim and she felt like he was a million miles away, unable to see, and failing to understand what she was going through. She had always appreciated his optimism and ability to remain relaxed but now those traits felt like flaws. Gross blatant flaws. This was an adults' conversation, not a place for wild unserious statements like ten times worse. Wiebke's gaze was cold and harsh as she waited for him to turn around and admit defeat. She had made her stance so very clear. Her German approach was too direct for him to be unable to understand what she had meant. Leave. Go. Let it be. Seconds ticked by and the pressure in the room felt nearly suffocating. She barely breathed. Her certainty in the two of them had been shaken time and time again — and each time he had taken her hand and told her it was all in her head. Not everything she thought was true. He was true. He was constant. He would remain. He would continue to love. But now he was threatening to take it all away. Threatening to leave her standing alone on a hill of bones. "I am a reason." The two of them were a reason. The sort of reason that was in no competition with the burden of her political ambitions. "Do you mean that? Robert, you tell me immediately if this is a quip or a poor joke." The sort that flew right past her. The sort she was unable to decipher due to missing a tonal change or a quirk of a brow. "This is not the sort of threat you throw to win a fight. This is irresponsible."

"I'm sorry! I mean it. Wike, I can't do it anymore if this is what you choose." He had not even realized how close to his limit they had come to. It was the revolting callousness that had brought clarity to him. The issue was not grey: it was black and white and no matter what they said, it would not change shape. What Wiebke was doing was wrong. Plain and simple. What he was doing was wrong. Plain and simple. He could only change his own behaviour. "I don't want to be involved in this. This war is unnecessary, it's self-serving, it's cruel, it's pitting me against my family. If you're a reason to stay then I'm a reason for you to stop. End it, I'm begging you, Wike." His palms felt numb, he tried flexing his fingers but it didn't feel like he could clench his fist properly. He was right at the edge of the cliff and he didn't have the slightest clue if he'd be forced to take one step forward. "This is an ultimatum. I'm giving you an ultimatum. I'm sorry." Could her plans truly be worth so much? A scrap of land and a few bonds and papers would not give her anything. He had offered her so much so many times already — she knew he was hers. For his fears to even exist seemed like pure insanity and yet here he was, holding his breath, praying to God that the depth of her feelings was what he had always believed it to be. "You promised me. You promised me an end. If we're being serious, you promised me an end that should have happened months if not a year ago. The moment this became an armed conflict, you should have ended it and kept your promise. So I can't forgive you if you now, despite my leniency so far, choose to go back on your word. It's gone too far. You've done too much already."

[swxppedshitposts]

Louise, painting the kitchen ceiling black: (humming softly)

Alex, walking into the kitchen: ..................What are you doing?

Louise, casually: Painting the ceiling.

Alex: ...................Why?

Louise: Because I think it would look better black!

Alex: ........And did you think that perhaps you might ask first?

Louise, looking down at him from the ladder: ......You told me to make myself at home!

Alex: I meant by not being afraid to explore, or to eat the food inside the fridge. Not by redecorating my fucking kitchen.

Louise: Hmm...must’ve got confused! (continues to paint)

Alex: ........You're doing this on purpose. Aren’t you??

Louise: :) (finishes painting) There! Finished! Isn’t that a better look? (she climbs down from the ladder)

Alex: Than the mural that took the artist six months to finish and which cost thousands of pounds? Not really, no.

Louise: Oh! By the way. The postman came this morning. This came for you. (she hands him an open letter)

Alex: ...You opened my post?

Louise: Yeah. (she sits on the kitchen counter and swings her legs) Somebody is VERY unhappy with you, Alexsander!

Alex: Get off of there! And STOP OPENING MY LETTERS!!! Let’s see what it is you’re bloody going on about, shall we? (he opens the letter) ...This just says “FUCK YOU” in cursive.

Louise: I know! Very strange!! Any idea who might’ve sent it?

Alex: Louise, dear, when you’ve lived as long as I have and you’ve built twice as many grudges, it could be pracitcally anybody.

Louise: Do you think it’s an omen? Are you concerned?

Alex: I’m always concerned but it’s usually just my default. About the letter, not particularly. I receive death threats on the weekly, I'm quite certain a handwritten “fuck you“ will not be my downfall.

Louise: Can I have another look at it? Maybe I can decipher some clues!

Alex: Who the Hell do you think you are? Sherlock Holmes?

Louise: Ugh!! You never let me do anything around here!

Alex: Says the woman who just painted my entire ceiling black on a whim...

Louise: I want to go out!! Why do I have to stay inside while you’re working?!

Alex: Because, Louise, you still have great trouble understanding the concept of debit cards, let alone trying to navigate your way around 2023 London on your own. You very nearly fainted the other day because you saw a woman wearing a miniskirt at the park!

Louise: SHE WASN’T EVEN WEARING BLOOMERS!!!!! I’VE NEVER BEEN SUBJECTED TO PUBLIC IMMODESTY LIKE THAT BEFORE!! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO THINK?!

Alex: My point is, you need accompaniment in order to avoid getting yourself sectioned, Louise. You went like a madwoman when Caroline showed you how to place an order at the self-order kiosk at McDonald’s. She then had to phone me from the loo to come and sort you out because you were having a fit!

Louise: I mean, it was rather ludicrous to expect that big, clunky machine to be able to convey my order to the workers inside the kitchen...but then it WORKED!! And it was fantastic...I must admit I was rather moved. (wipes a tear)

Alex: Really? We couldn’t tell by the way you left the restaurant - I use that word lightly - sobbing and wailing with unspeakable joy because ‘technology is modern sorcery’.

Louise: I’ve never been so impressed in my life!!!!!

Alex: You said the same thing about Jurassic Park.

Louise: But Alexsander, I’ve counted all the doorknobs twice and I’m afraid I’m running out of things to keep myself entertained all day!

Alex: For goodness sake, Louise, read a book !!!

Louise: I CAN’T!!!!!

Alex: WHY NOT?!?!?!?!

Louise: I tried to read one of Caroline’s books from her unread collection but they’re all about things of which I’ve no understanding. I mean, seriously?! WHAT in the world is a ‘Windows Vista’?!

Alex: It’s an operating system fo- oh.

Louise: YOU SEE?! Also, I pressed a button on the television remote last night and it started screaming at me so I panicked and I put it in the pond. 

Alex: ......................................You ripped my TV off of the wall and threw it into the pond because it made a noise? Louise, I understand that you’re having a troublesome time adjusting to this era, but you really are GETTING ON MY BLOODY NERVES!!!!!!!!!!

Louise: DON’T SHOUT AT ME, IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!!!!!!!!! I WAS ALONE AND CONFUSED...MAYBE IF YOU DIDN’T LEAVE ME ON MY OWN ALL DAY THEN THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED..!

Alex: Oh, I do so apologise for having a career!

Louise: WHICH YOU LIE TO MAINTAIN!!! I mean, seriously...you actually managed to convince the entire nation that you’re not a monster?

Alex: What do you think you’ve been doing this entire time? You don’t go out looking like that and get captured by the fucking hunters. Why do you think that is, Louise? It’s because you’re with me. People think we’re artists. That all this (he gestures to her undead body) is just an elaborate costume to enhance your persona. Soon, you’ll have people taking photographs, and then when you’re forced to explain, you’ll tell them exactly what I’ve been telling people for years. You wouldn’t have gotten away with this back in the day. You would’ve been hunted, like I was. People would’ve been immediately suspicious of you. But now? People think it’s cool and quirky to look like this. They just don’t know that it’s real and I intend to keep it that way. For both our sakes.

Louise: >:C Well, I don’t want to be an actress! I want to be me!

Alex: If it were that easy, then so would I. But it isn’t. So, suck it up.

Louise: ...83.

Alex: Excuse me?

Louise: There are 83 doorknobs in your house.

Alex: Thank you, Louise. I’ll be sure to put that information to good use in the future.

[parttimepuff]

Who’s gonna tell rev that he’s intimidely associated with the problem and will have to face that a lot sooner than he will want to because of her?

It took a lot of will power to hold it together for Hermit's sake. Raising his voice wouldn't be good for the skittish Matter. "Get out." Reverie flatly demanded. Picking up on his attitude immediately, Beep joined in. "OUT." She repeated, holding Hermit's hand to reassure them. The other Matter bristled, holding her hand back. It did help, having her here, but the situation was strange and unnerving for them.

And Reverie noticed that it was stressing them out despite his efforts. So, instead of waiting for a reply, he pushed the anon out the door which promptly shut behind them. Sighing, he turned back to the two. "…sorry about that. They're just mean sometimes." He explained. "Mean..? Threat..?" Hermit asked, worried still. "They, can be. They like to talk a lot." Beep confirmed. She glared at the closed door, angry with the intruder still.

That answer didn't seem to help them much. "Were nice… to me…" Hermit mumbled. They were confusing, but they thought they were safe. Maybe even friends. "Aww… I'm glad some of em were nice to you." Reverie expressed, hoping to make them feel better. "They can be nice too they just, pick one. Nice or mean. And that one was mean." Beep elaborated. That seemed to make more sense to them. "Oh… hope more… pick nice…" Hermit thought.

"Me too..." Beep agreed, falling silent. After a moment, the rest of what the anon said struck her. "What consequences? Did, the talk go badly?" She hesitantly asked, scanning her father up and down just to be certain he was ok. That was right, he still had his own good news. "Ah, right. Actually, it went pretty well! It was, rough on me to see him, but he was ok. He listened to me and tried to make me feel better. I can't say he doesn't still intimidate me, but… I think I can do this." Reverie told her.

Beep listened, relieved for his safety, yes, but understanding that the next step hinged on her now. "You can? Th-then. I can too. I gotta." She promised, lying to herself. If she said it enough, maybe it would become true. It wasn't difficult for the Dream Fae to recognize that. "When you're ready. I'll keep building my courage, too." Reverie assured her. Just that small show of support brought clear relief to her. "I’m, glad you’re back, though…" Beep murmured, deciding against adding 'in one piece'.

As the two spoke, Hermit listened, trying to decipher what they were talking about to no avail. Something Beep eventually took notice of. "Oh, right. Uh…" She started, not exactly sure how to explain Kirby to them. Especially when he scared her as much as he did. "He's, a new acquaintance." Reverie stepped in instead. "Acquaintance..?" They echoed. "Hm, you know, that's not a great word to use, anyway." The Dream Fae backpedaled, realizing his mistake.

"Rev went to, talk to someone. And it went good, that’s all." Beep took over. "And now he’s back, and I’m, glad he is." She concluded, reaching for his wing feather with her other hand. He reached his wing out so she could. "Yup." Reverie confirmed, nodding. "Ah… good…" Hermit thought, satisfied with that answer. "Very good." Beep added. Though, the thought of 'what they would have to face' still weighed on her mind.