#so much depth in this character and they called him dark or not smile enough shrug

[innerfare]

You’re Sick - Part 1

Summary: How do they act when you come down with a bad fever?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: 

Don’t expect him to look the other way when you blow snot all over the place. He’ll laugh and even poke a little fun at you. One thing he won’t do is fuss over you. Sure, he’ll bring you something to eat, and he’ll tell you to get under the blanket if you’re so cold, but he won’t be a mother hen clucking. And it’s comforting, actually. If there’s one thing you can count on from Luffy, it’s for him to remain calm, and he does just that when you come down with a fever, showing up for you without smothering you. 

Zoro: 

He’s not very good at the nurturing gig. The main thing is that he doesn’t want you to think that he thinks you can’t handle yourself. But… well, he worries. He’s never seen you this way, and the fear of loss is never out of reach for him. He takes to hovering by the door with his arms folded over his chest, even lowering his head to rest his eyes but never once sitting down. It’s not even a conscious thing, him staying on his feet the entire time you’re sick; his instinct is just to protect you, and this is the way he knows. 

Sanji: 

Soup. Of course he’s going to make soup. And then he’s going to make more soup, so much soup that the entire crew will be eating soup for at least the next week. Sanji doesn’t know what else to do with himself. He has to keep himself busy, though, has to keep his hands moving, or else he’ll find himself in a dark place. Luckily, he knows he can place his faith in Chopper to nurse you back to health. In the meantime, though, he’s going to keep making soup because he knows the power of a good meal. 

Ace: 

He brushes it off so easily you would think he wasn’t worried- if you didn’t know him, that is. What hits him the hardest when you’re bedridden, though, is how much you take care of him, followed by a fear that he won’t reciprocate well enough and you’ll be cross with him. He never would have imagined his fear of abandonment would rear it’s ugly head at such a time, but there he is, sitting on the end of the bed feeling like his most precious treasure is about to slip through his fingers. He wants to run from it, but he manages to grab your hand and give you a smile, teasing you about your messy hair. 

Sabo: 

He babies you- the man who rarely picks up the transponder snail and usually hangs up in the middle of the call when he does, the man who can’t be damned to remember most people’s names, the man who seems so utterly blasé most of the time. He drags a damp cloth across your forehead, he takes your temperature every hour, he reads and rereads the label on the medicine you were given by the doctor to be sure you get the right dose at the right time and don’t show any of the adverse side effects listed. 

Law: 

You expect him to be gruff with you. After all, your boyfriend hasn’t struck you as a doctor famous for his bedside manner. That’s not to say he’s mean, he’s just not very sappy. But when you come down with a fever, you notice a line in his brow you’ve never seen before and quickly realize the depths of his worry. Law is more gentle with you than he’s ever been, even going so far as to quietly spoon feed you. And he holds you the entire time, any risks to his own health be damned. 

Kid: 

If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was mad at you, or at least trying to disturb your sleep because he doesn’t want you to rest. But he snapped at you to sleep in his bed, not your own, and when he comes into his cabin every fifteen minutes, you recognize his extra loud footsteps and irate muttering about you coughing all over his sheets as concern. Eventually, he sits in a chair by the bed with a hunk of metal in his hands that he fidgets with while he watches over you, barking at Killer to bring you something hot. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[shojimezolovemail]

hi! jjk men tearing up when yn kisses their forehead 🤭

A/N: thank you so much for the request!!! if you don't see your fave, feel free to send another ask! request open :-)

A/N pt 2: sorry that some of these are longer than others, i promise i love all these men :”)

warnings: allusion to canon level violence, pet names (sugar, doll, darling & honey), other than that mainly fluff! let me know if i missed anything ^_^

characters included: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, & choso kamo

✰ satoru gojo ✰

A particularly difficult mission was left to the past of the last few hours but it was one Gojo couldn’t shake off of himself. It was one where both of your lives were nearly compromised and that alone was enough to churn his stomach.

“Satoru?” your voice called, breaking him away from a spiral within his mind. “Look at me, honey, please?” Your tone almost desperate as you took in his slumped posture against the seat he was in, legs pressed together as if he were folding himself up.

You got closer to Gojo, standing in front of him and using a hand to cup his face. The gentle touch was enough to begin soothing his racing mind. A sweet kiss pressed to his forehead then to the crown of his head.

Tears pooled along his waterline, breaching containment as they rolled down his cheeks.

As he always kissed away your tears, you returned the favor and pressed a few over where they would begin to stain against his skin.

✰ suguru geto ✰

For so long Geto believed that anything that could go bad would inevitably happen to him. He was spiraling down such a deep, dark depth of his mind until a strong force of light forced itself into to his life. You.

He felt as if divine timing had to play a part in uniting you two but you had other ideas of it.

“We were simply meant to be. Call it fate, or divine timing, whatever you’d like, Sugu,” you’d look over from where you stood in front of the stove, smiling at him and melting his heart.

“You really won’t settle on my divine timing theory?” He asked as he began closing the physical distance between you two.

“I think it’s more fun to pretend that there’s little red strings wrapped around our fingers and that’s what brought us together,” you tried to sound serious but couldn’t help the laugh in your voice at the theory that you spoke of.

Your laughter like the first inkling of spring after a hard winter to Geto, welcoming him into your warmth as it was all consuming. He was a sucker for everything about you though, in truth.

A small smile fell upon his lips, “You’re ridiculous. A red string tying us together? I think that’s a new one.”

You stood on your tip toes to press a quick kiss to his forehead, “You heard me, sugar. Do you mind grabbing the girls for me? I’ll plate up lunch right now.”

Geto stood still for a moment, warmth radiating throughout his body as he processed what you had done. Something within him stirring when he turned to leave the kitchen. His throat tightening at the act of intimacy.

Eyes welling up with tears and a quick cough to cover up the hiccups that followed him beginning to get emotional.

✰ kento nanami ✰

Rarely did you wake up earlier than Nanami but when you did, you tried to make the most of the time you had before he would wake up. He so often spent the hours of the night finishing up paperwork or lulling you to sleep because he had a habit of prioritizing your health over his.

While of course, that was sweet you knew eventually it would catch up and impact his life so when he’d stay up late and sleep in, it was almost a cause for celebration on your end.

You hatched a plan to make breakfast for him as he often would for you when he woke up before you. Nanami slept soundly as you slid out of the bed, careful to leave him with the warmth of the blanket you two shared and little noise as you departed the bedroom.

Soft hums falling past your lips as you gathered all your ingredients, tapping your foot as you awaited for the toast to pop up while you began the eggs.

Truthfully, you weren’t paying much attention to the clock so when you glanced up to see your lover standing in a half-open robe with his chest on display as he leaned against the doorway of the kitchen.

A gasp of surprise leaving your lips, “Good morning honey,” you said with a flushed smile.

“Good morning darling,” he moved to get closer to you but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Ah ah - take a seat at the table, the food’s almost done,” you pointed a spatula toward him, earning a chuckle from his lips.

Nanami took a seat at the small dining table, watching as you moved around the kitchen and finally plated the breakfast you had prepared.

You poured a glass of water and presented the food to Nanami, his hands coming to rest on your hips. A sleepy smile on his lips as he looked up at you.

“Why didn’t you wake me up to help you, darling?” he questioned, thumbs rubbing over your hips through your pajama pants.

One of your hands came to cup his cheeks, “You looked so peaceful, Ken. I didn’t want to disturb you, my love.” You leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, wrapping an arms around his shoulders.

Nanami couldn’t help the warmth that spread all over his body, eyes beginning to burn with tears.

“You’re too good to me, my darling.”

You press another kiss to his cheek now, “I treat you to what you deserve, Kento.”

✰ toji fushiguro ✰

It was another night of patching him up after a particularly bad job he had taken on. The only sound in the bathroom the ripping of gauze and a weak fan that pulled the fumes of rubbing alcohol away from the two of you.

You didn’t bother scolding him now, he knew you were upset but the state he came home in was too bad for you to think of anything else but stopping the blood staining his clothes.

Toji watched you gently clean his wounds, hisses falling past his scarred lips with quick muttered “Sorry, sorry!” from you every time he made noises of discomfort.

He clenched his fist together, the burning of the alcohol never got any easier but one would think that someone of his caliber would not react to something like wounds being treated.

“Doll, would ya look at me?” he questioned with his normally unfriendly tone, quickly adding a “please?” to possibly convince you any further to give him attention.

You met his eyes for the first time since he had come home, worry and fear brimming your waterline.

A kiss to his forehead all you could give, it was quick and sweet. A way of rationalizing that he was in fact right in front of you.

Toji didn’t know what came over him but his throat felt as if it were closing up. One of his hands shot up to grab it, confusion weighing on his brows.

“You okay, Toji? Something hurt?”

He blinked twice then met your eyes again, a small smile on his lips.

“Hm? Yeah, ‘m good, doll. Don’t worry. Just thought about how much I love ya s’all,” he spoke nonchalantly as if his own heart beat wasn’t beating like a drum in his chest.

✰ choso kamo ✰

The love that existed within Choso was overwhelming and all consuming. He was so hopelessly in love with you. Everything you had shown him about being human amazed him and left him hungry for more.

He wasn’t entirely clueless but there were things that he needed coaching on such as kissing or when its appropriate to express love to one another in public. Not to imply you didn’t love when he showed you affection but there was certain things strangers shouldn’t be subjected to.

When he got a better understanding of kissing, he was obsessed with it. Any chance he got, he was pressing a little one to your lips, cheeks or any part of you he could get his hands on.

Choso lived so long only expressing his love to his brothers but now that he had other people to express it towards, he was hooked.

For a while his love and devotion was used as a weapon against himself and others around him, of course not through his full understanding of the situations he was put into.

You two were interlocked in your bed, limbs tangled under a mountain of blankets on a particularly cold night. Would either of you bother to close the cracked window though? Not a chance.

Choso had his head rested against your chest, listening to the thumping of your heartbeat as he often said it soothed his mind. Your body stirred under him, his dark eyebrows furrowing to look up at you - his eyes full of question.

“I’m gonna go grab a snack from the kitchen, you want somethin’?” you questioned as you ran a hand through his hair and began to scoot out from under his head.

He blinked up at you before shaking his head, “I think I’m okay. Thank you though. Love you,” he smiled.

You leaned over the side of the bed he was against now, a kiss presented to his forehead before you disappeared out of the room.

Choso’s pale skin immediately flushed a pink hue, a grin forming on his lips and some tears rolling down his face.

A wet laugh to himself, wiping his fallen tears away before you’d return.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Devil Wears Armani 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

---posting to the correct blog lol---

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

After the week you’ve had, the need for a strong drink is irresistible. You’re almost there. Friday. You just need to make it through the day. There’s only one obstacle in your way. Mr. Stark. 

You bring him his ritualistic cafe au lait just after noon. He has an airpod in his ear, chattering on a call as he clicks around his floating computer screen. You keep your head down, making yourself invisible as you place the cup on a coaster. He leans back in his white leather chair as he speaks, reaching quickly for the coffee. 

“Yeah, Rogers, maybe, I don’t know about you but I’m not looking to invest right now. I got enough eggs to hatch...” Stark sips as he rests his other hand on his thigh.  

Before you can retreat, your eyes flick over and see the moving image on the monitor. You don’t react. You just backpedal and return to your desk, gently closing the door as to not disturb your call. You might commend him for multitasking if it wasn’t so inappropriate. 

You cup your chin and zero in on your screen, fighting the images seared into your eyes. The woman’s ass spread wide as the man... nope. Not today. 

Mr. Stark’s reputation is less than pristine. Everyone knows how he is but he’s the CEO. Who’s going to say anything? Or do anything? Coming into the role, you expected a demanding workload and a finicky boss, but not everything else. Not the blatant disregard for others and brazen lack of shame. 

You glance over at his door before you dare to take out your phone. You lay it next to your keyboard and keep your hand under your chin. You look down as you press to unlock and read the messages from the other girls. Izzie can’t make it, she’s out in the field, but the others are down. Awesome. 

You scroll through the gif catalogue and send a celebratory reaction. Mr. Stark’s door startles you and you slide your phone up under your monitor stand to try to hide it. You put your attention back to the calendar and swoop your mouse around the pad. 

Stark approaches as he slurps loudly over the brim of his cup. You feel the weight of his gaze and meet it shyly, pushing your glasses up your nose as you sit up. You can’t quite smile as your jaw locks up. 

“Sir?” You greet him in confusion. 

“So, Friday,” his brown eyes dip down to consider the depths of the mug, “got any exciting plans?” 

You look left then right and back at him. Your brow twitches in surprised confusion. Mr. Stark never asks about your personal life. He only ever talks about his private jet and high-life getaways to locations you could never dream of. Your cocktails are meagre compared to his elite lifestyle. 

“No, sir,” you say. “How about you?” 

He smirks and tilts his head. He slowly prowls around your desk and you swivel your chair to face him as he nears the corner to your right. You tilt to look up at him. 

“Ah, the usual, there’s this sweet little blonde thing down in Barbados waiting for me,” he chuckles as his eyes rove over your desk, “no dates? No... partying?” 

“Sir, I... just errands.” 

“Uh huh,” he clucks and reaches for your mouse. Nope. He swerves and swipes up your phone as it lights up beneath the stand. Shoot. “Social hour, huh?” 

“No, sir. I just shut off an alarm and forgot--” 

“You’re a bad liar, stop it,” he warns as he brings your phone up and reads the messages popping up, “girls’ night?” He looks at you over the cell, “that sounds like more than errands to me.” 

“Well, sir, I didn’t think... it was important.” 

“Must be if you’re texting at work,” he tosses the phone at you and you catch it as it lands in your lap. “You been to Barbados?” 

“Barbados? No?” You answer dumbly, no expecting the question. 

“Wanna go?” 

You hesitate. Is this some trick? It’s like when he was taunting Walker last week, baiting him into giving answers that made him look stupid.

“Sir, maybe one day, I guess, I never thought--” 

“No thinking. I know you’re not that fucking simple,” he reaches to poke your forehead and your recoil. “Don’t get too fucking crazy tonight, sweetheart, jet takes off at six. In the morning.” 

You frown and shake your head. He can’t mean what you think. 

“Should I have your luggage--” 

“Be there,” he demands and gulps back a mouthful. He slams down the empty mug on your desk and backs up, “if you’re still thirsty, they got cocktails on the plane.” 

He turns and strides away, whistling as he checks his watch. He sighs as he approaches the office door, pausing, “when Odinson gets here, make sure he has everything he needs.” He glances back with a smirk as you peer around your monitor, “and smile, sweetheart, you got nice lips.” 

You stare after him as he closes his office door and you sit back. You chew your thumb and look down at your phone. You sniff as you watch the others messages stream over the screen. Now you know better than to have your phone out at work. Now you get to do overtime. Fun. 

You rub your cheek and roll close to your desk. You’re not going to miss tonight, even if Mr. Stark wants to take away your weekend. You’ve been waiting for this and you need the boost before you face whatever he has planned.  

A message blips up in the corner and you click it, not daring to ignore Mr. Stark’s icon. The window spreads over the screen and the message floats over the reply bar. ‘Don’t forget a bikini’. 

Huh? 

[temis-de-leon]

Grumpy and sunshine - 500 F.C.

Characters: Lucifer x gn!reader

Main Masterlist

500 followers masterlist

Requested by: anon

CW: established relationship, some kissing, a tiny bit of miscommunication

A/N: this ain't a drabble lmao, but I don't care

.

Something laid on his shoulders, bringing a much needed warmth and a familiar scent, but the soft texture and comforting weight paled in comparison to what came right after. Gentle hands tracing the sharp edges of his cheekbone and taking the pen out of his clenched fingers; a delicate kiss placed right on his temple.

He hoped MC would stay next to him for at least a little longer, but he had no such luck. The chair at the opposite side of the desk barely scratched the floor before his beloved gasped at the noise and lifted it to sit down, then grabbed all the documents that weren’t buried under his arms and started writing on his behalf.

The heat turning his body back to life, the sweet humming of his partner and the pen dragging ink across the paper should’ve been enough to lull him to sleep, but Lucifer found himself unable to.

There was a train of thoughts still drilling every crevice of his mind, mixing dates and locations within each other, the numbers on Mammon’s bills increasing a never-ending list of failures and Lord Diavolo’s insistent enthusiasm adding piles and piles of duties to his already tall stack of paperwork. Pitiful curses reeked of Satan’s power and tainted every inch of his possessions and something in the depths of his brain held its breath in apprehension whenever his DDD showed a notification.

It was just a damn festival. One of many thrown in hopes to raise the school’s morale and tighten the relationships between all of the exchange students. It was the same as always.

So why did it feel so draining this time? Why did he feel the need to fill the room with dense darkness, a cocoon for him to scream profanities and frustrations? Why did everybody seem more moronic than usual? Did they think before speaking or was that too much to ask? Couldn’t they see what was happening around them? Couldn’t they realize that he had more important things to do other than help organizing a stupid festival?

“Lucifer” a voice called him, kind and caring.

He opened his eyes, cringing at the harshness of his frown and the impending headache coming with it. His neck was stiff and hurt when he tried to sit straight to look at MC, but he managed, his expression softening at their concerned features.

“What’s with the face, my love?”

“I should be asking you that”

The scowl was unnatural on their face and it made Lucifer chuckle. He moved to grab their hand in a gentle grasp, but, to his surprise, they brought his knuckles to their lips instead and playfully smiled when he turned his face away to hide his blush.

“C’mon, tell me what happened” they begged, carefully placing the pen in its holder and laying on the desk to get closer to him “Is it about the festival? Is something wrong? Do you need my help?”

They stood, still holding his hand while they walked around the desk, just as if they were dancing in the music room, and as lovely as the memory was, Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to smile at it. His mood soured again at his predicament and not even their weight on his lap made it better.

He couldn’t tell them what was on his mind! It would spoil everything! But then again, the festival already spoiled it, didn’t it? Lucifer hoped he could still surprise MC if he played his cards right.

“Oh, Luciii…”

“Do not use that name”

MC laughed despite the interruption and cupped his cheek to kiss his entire face, but, unlike other times, the feeling of their lips wasn’t enough of a distraction. He continued to stare at nothing, sight unfocused, while mindlessly hugging his human, which seem to be what broke the camel’s back.

“Lucifer, please!” they cried, desperately grabbing the fur on his coat to make him look at them “Tell me what’s wrong! Our anniversary is in three days and you’re going to hide in your office to rot? We haven’t seen each other in days…”

“I took you out for lunch earlier”

He finally looked at them, immediately scowling at their mischievous smirk. Their eyes showed a gleeful glint, face squished against their hand and elbow resting on his shoulder.

“Still! Too long!”

MC’s laugh was contagious and it managed to break his frown and dissipate the darkness in his eyes, although some remnants of displeasure persisted. His previous irritation and current disappointment still lingered in the room.

“Are you excited for the festival, MC?” his voice was quiet, nor angry nor sad, and if MC saw anything unusual about it, they didn’t show it.

“Are you kidding?” they answered instead, filling a corner of his heart with heavy stones. Their bright smile warmed his body better than the blanket did, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit frustrated “Dia says is going to look like a fairy-tale! How am I not going to be excited?”

How come they weren’t mad? He’d made reservations weeks ago, a whole evening planned in great detail; the first of many years to come sharing their lives and loving each other. It was supposed to be a private event, just for the two of them, and now they would have to spend it with his brothers and Father knows who else. Would it kill them to act a little bit sadder at the situation?

“Just imagine” they continued talking “Flowers everywhere, fairy lights, sweets and music, blues and pinks and yellows and cute animals and costumes… Oh, it’s going to be so good! What better way to spend our anniversary!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We could match and eat special baked goods for the occasion and take a stroll around the gardens…” MC sighed, taking his hand from his chest and hugging it against their face. Their flushed cheeks turned them warm and he couldn’t help but curl his fingers around theirs “It’s going to be so romantic, Luci…”

Their love-struck gaze left him speechless, a blushing mess unable to stop looking at them like they were the only thing worth his time in the room. He felt stupid, then, and he thanked every entity in the universe that would listen to him for putting MC in his life.

“It does sound good, I admit…”

His whisper died against their lips and finally, for the first time in some very long days, he felt the butterflies caressing the edges of his heart; MC’s name drawn in their wings.

“So?” they murmured while kissing him.

“Hm?”

“What happened before I got here? You didn’t seem okay”

“Never mind that, my love” he insisted, placing their head on the crook of his neck and taking a magazine from the desk “Would you help me choose a venue for the main event? I’d like to know your preferences…”

.

.

[sl-vega]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪MY FIRST (GENUINE) LOVE

pairing: Otoya Eita x [FEM!] Reader

genre: fluff, oneshot/drabble, partial chat/text fic, crack/comedy (?), mild Otoya character study, school/no bluelock au

synopsis: Otoya and your's date went well, a little too well. 'Cuz now all he can think about is you, your laugh, your smile, your voice, it's driving him crazy. Which results in him patiently awaiting to any and all of your texts. (Or, in which a certain playboy finally falls in love for real)

CW: brief/mild language, implied suggestive content, ooc Otoya (?)

The second Otoya arrived home, he made a bee line directly towards his room, and threw himself onto his bed, the soft mattress enveloping him in it's plush comfort.

Normally whenever Otoya did this, it meant that he went on a less than good date an hour prior that left him exhausted. Usually the girl would've been too clingy, or tried to move too fast, and he usually didn't mind it, but some women just didn't know when enough was enough.

But neither of the reasons were the cause of his need to lie down. The date wasn't bad, it went super well actually. If anything, it went too well.

Earlier, he was on a date with you. The two of you met via Karasu, Otoya noticed that you were waiting for the latter after one of their games, and he had absentmindedly called you cute, not expecting anything to come out of it since his subconscious had already assumed that you and Karasu were an item.

Otoya had already braced himself for some kind of response along the lines of "Yeah she is" or the worse (and more likely) response of "Buzz off, she's taken". What Otoya didn't expect however, was Karasu's nonchalant offer of;

"Why don't I set the two of ya' up?"

And who was he to turn him down? A date with a cute girl where he didn't have to go through hell and back for a quick one-night-stand?

Fuck yeah, you should set us up.

You seemed nice enough from your initial meeting, you had a cute smile, nice voice, and you managed to be impressive enough for Karasu's standards, something that none of his previous flings achieved.

But what stood out the most to him was how genuine you were.

Most of the time when he went out with girls, they were only there for a quick hook up, or on the opposite end of the spectrum, were the completely clueless girls, the kind that legitimately thought that he would stick around in the long run, only to be disappointed by his inevitable infidelity, which usually resulted in a bunch of tears, and a slap, both of which that Otoya would always be on the receiving end of.

You on the other hand, were neither of these types of troublesome women. You clearly weren't using him for a quick night of pleasure, but you weren't in the dark about his previous antics either.

If anything, you knew a little too much about his previous sexual escapades. Probably because of Karasu's big mouth, or maybe he wanted to make sure Eita still had to put effort into his potential relationship with you.

The two of you went out to some semi-fancy restaurant for dinner together. You and Eita had made some small talk, the conversation ventured into deeper, more in depth topics occasionally (not that Otoya minded, but he'd digress), but you seemed to have fun, even though it was pretty surface level.

The date had ended on a nice note, Otoya had called you beautiful, not pretty, or cute, or sexy (or the other usual less than two syllable words he usually dropped on most of his throwaways), he had actually made a point to say it because he really did mean it.

He didn't know why you had left such a good impression on him, why you clearly meant more than some mere plaything that he would've discarded the following morning. Nor does he know why the thought of bringing another girl into his bed other than you makes his heart feel heavy and makes him feel nauseous.

He rolled over in his bed so he was facing the ceiling instead of of having his head stuffed into his plush pillows.

Why was he like this?

Why did you make him feel like this?

He lifted up one of the pillows by his side and brought it to his chest, maybe the soft stuffing would muffle the sound of his racing heartbeat.

Suddenly, his once silent phone buzzes with a notification. He takes a quick break from his sudden crisis of feelings, and quickly snatched his device from his nightstand. It was a message from an unknown number

[UNKNOWN]-(sent 10:52 pm)

hi! otoya right? This is (l/n) btw, karasu just gave me ur number

Eita's eyes widened, part of him felt a pang of jealousy.

So you and Karasu must be pretty close if you were texting him that late to get his number.

Wait, why did he care? His other girlfriends had guy friends before, and it never made him feel jealous like how you and Karasu's relationship did.

God, what's the matter with me?

Before he wasted too much time, he turned his phone back on, to respond to you, while making sure to change your contact name before he forgot.

[L/N <3]-(sent 10:54 pm)

otoya? you there? istg if karasu gave me the wrong number-

[You]-(sent 10:55 pm)

dw karasu wouldn't lie abt smth like that

[L/N <3]-(sent 10:57 pm)

dang, that reply was faster than I thought it would be, ig ur not as much as a red flag as I pegged you as

[You]-(sent 10:59 pm)

stfu, what did karasu say abt me?

[L/N <3]-(sent 11:00 pm)

nothin' I just figured you out on my own, i'm just smart like that >:3

[L/N <3]-(sent 11:01 pm)

'k i'm partially kidding, he warned me a bit abt you, but you're pretty good company, for an f boy at least

[You]-(sent 11:03 pm)

for an f boy? i'm hurt

[L/N <3]-(11:04 pm)

lol jk, I actually had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it again!

[L/N <3]-(sent 11:05 pm)

srry I gtg, ttyl?

Otoya's heart sinks at the realization that your short, yet sweet, conversation had already come to an end. He was already missing the comfort of your words, not they he would ever admit how much your little messages made his heart flutter.

[You]-(sent 11:07 pm)

yeah, gn

[L/N]-(sent 11:08 pm)

wow, dry much? gn, sweet dreams!

He mentally berates himself for his dry response, but a few seconds after, he starts grinning like some lovesick school girl.

Is this how some of his past flings felt about him?

No, he wanted you to be way more than a fling, maybe this would be the first time he tried, the first time he actually wanted to get serious about a girl, about a relationship.

Maybe this would be the first time that this would end with a ring around his finger rather than a slap on his face.

He hears his phone buzz again, he lunges towards it, hoping that it was another text from you.

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:19 pm)

i'm assuming the date went well since l/n hasn't told me that ur such a jerk yet

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:20 pm)

jk (kinda) i'm glad that you might finally have a shot at a real relationship

[You]-(sent 11:22 pm)

stfu you stupid crow

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:23 pm)

ilyt eita :3

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:27 pm)

cmon, no thanks for setting you up with your future wife?

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:28 pm)

i expect to be your best man at the wedding

[You]-(sent 11:30 pm)

nah i'll give it to yuki if you kept pestering me abt this

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:31 pm)

THAT'S NOT A NO TO THE WEDDING THO

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:33 pm)

GOTTEM

[crow bastard]-(sent 11:34 pm)

SO YOU DO LIKE HER

[You]-(sent 11:35 pm)

maybe I do, maybe I don't

Eita briefly set his phone down, thanking the gods that Karasu couldn't see his bright red face.

He definitely did...

[oakbuggy]

Liar, Liar Chapter 2

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 2 (NSFW) ~6.7k words

AO3 Link Here!

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tala felt murky and lost, in a place vaguely familiar.

It looked like the ocean, like the one she had marveled at when all the clans came together under multiple leadership, most importantly the Sully family, but it was incredibly dark.

“Tala” A light feminine voice called out within the depths.

“Kiri!” Tala felt like crying, she reached for her but for some reason their fingers wouldn’t touch.

Kiri’s intelligent round eyes that normally glistened petal-yellow now dilated with worry.

“Tala, can you hear me? Where are you?” She couldn’t hear her.

Tala mouthed carefully the location of the scouting party’s attack. “Kol’iluen Hills, Kol’iluen Hills!”

Kiri watched her lips thoughtfully, understanding.

The Tawkami woman paused, should she even say anything about Neteyam? What could she say, when he was so different, so changed?

Kiri noticed her friend’s pained expression and smiled reassuringly. She had to tell her.

“Ne-te-yam--is–a-live”

When the Omaticayan girl’s expression morphed into one of shock and confusion, Tala knew she understood and her expression remained pained. Kiri had a special connection to Eywa, surely she would figure out what happened to him, how to help him. Much more than Tala could.

Suddenly the dream felt freezing and Kiri’s image disappeared before her eyes without a word more.

“Kiri!”

Tala gasped loudly, her body tensed and the firs thing she noticed was how cold she was.

She had been drugged and anesthetized, she had done it to herself before as an experiment but the tawtute recipe left her feeling so much worse upon awakening.

’Hello? Can you hear me? Are you alright?’

Tala surveyed her new home: three dark concrete walls and a cage door with thick bars. On the other side was just a massive hallway lit by stinging light. When she tried getting up, a weight held her down, metallic smooth cuffs secured on each wrist. She grimaced, her ear was sore too.

“Hello?” She whispered, throat dry.

“Here, here.” 

A thin hand waved at her from the corner of the cage, they also wore these cuffs. Tala reached out to brush the owner’s four fingers before holding it. Though strangers, they were both na’vi, and that was comfort enough.

“​​Oel ngati kameie, I am Orlek’an te Yokelk’ita of the Anurai.”

“​​Oel ngati kameie, Orlek’an, I am Li’tala te Eyay Engk’ita of the Tawkami. How long have you been here my sister?”

“I do not know, is it still spring?” 

“No, it’s summer.”

Orlek’an sighed. “I am a craftswoman, I was taken while foraging alone. There were others, but they’ve been moved, vanished, I am the only one who returns here. Are you a warrior, Li’tala?” 

“Please, call me Tala. And barely, I am an alchemist, but the war required more warriors. What do the tawtutes make you do here?”

“Labor, collecting, identifying, crafting which cannot be replicated by their tawtute machines,” Her voice was deep, but so, so weary. Tala sighed, frustrated, then gingerly felt around her right ear, fingers finding a squarish tag, pierced into the skin.

“What is this on my ear, this thing? Do you have one too?”

Orlek’an barked a humorless laugh. “Tags, so vrrteps can tell their false na’vi apart from the real na’vi. They can’t tell the difference.”

Tala continued to inspect herself. She pressed her palms against the scarring on her neck, not quite healed, definitely not treated. There was no ache, it didn’t seem infected, which was the only silver lining. At least a day had passed, maybe two.

She seethed once she remembered Neteyam’s face.

Suddenly the doors to the hall boomed open and loud footsteps charged into the room. A tawtute wearing an exo-pack and a long white coat and a dreamwalker soldier stopped in front of Tala’s cell.

“Finally awake, huh? Get this one.” The dream walker opened the cage door, making both Tala and Orlek’an hiss at the intrusion. The tawtute rolled his eyes. “Just great, fresh meat.” Tala read the name on his ID: L. Hanson. Hanson turned to the dreamwalker.

“I don’t have time for this shit, get her up.”

“You could say please.”

“Please, Patty.” The dreamwalker smirked and approached Tala, who had buried herself in the corner of her cell, pupils tiny and menacing. Patty raised her hands in defense.

“You scratch at me, those bracelets will shock the Eywa out of you if you do. No sudden moves.” She said in stilted na’vi. Cautiously, Tala stood up and nodded.

The cuffs magnetized and forced her arms together with a loud clack. Tala scowled deeper when Patty simply shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll get used to it.”

Tala grumbled to herself, she felt even more helpless than before now with her hands trapped together. As she followed the pair outside her cell, she casted a look behind her, able to catch the bright glint of copper eyes. Orlek’an. Tala waved her tail goodbye as the Anurai woman tried to give a comforting smile.

The doors opened with another slam and Tala found herself nearly blinded by the infernally bright vrrtep light fixtures.

“Move along, don’t got all day.” Patty sharply elbowed her back and Tala stumbled forward.

Lab 08. Ventilation Chamber. Electric 7B. The place was so massive and Tala committed the path and signages to memory. It was child’s play, as it was to any young alchemist. The place was crawling most with Recombinant and dreamwalkers, the humans she did glimpse at all wore either exo-packs or white hazmat suits.

After walking down the maze of Bridgehead, they finally came upon a darkened laboratory, Lab 12. Plants and samples were kept bright and encased in clear glass cases. Patty pushed Tala onto a tiny wheeled stool and then took a seat by the door.

“Understand English?” Hanson asked gruffly, also sitting down. He tinkered with his digital pad but Tala’s eyes wandered, there seemed to be only two other tawtute scientists working at opposite corners. Shiny shock batons strapped to their white hazmat suits.

“Hey!” Hanson slammed his fist on the desk but it didn’t shock Tala much. The muted thump was like that of a na’vi child’s tantrum rather than anything of threat.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.” She said quietly.

“Fucking finally. Don’t wanna deal with this piece of shit translator.” Hanson grumbled to himself and Tala could hear the faint snickers behind her.

Droids came over to the table before Tala. For the next few hours, that’s all she did, she sat and listed out names of plants, herbs, roots, leaves, etc. With how monotonous the work was, sometimes she would pretend not to know words in English just to see Hanson curse and uselessly finagle his translator pad, which was indeed a piece of shit. This brought some entertainment to both her and Patty, and the guard herself seemed content to stay seated by the door.

After hours of what felt even more mundane than weaving, which she unfortunately despised, she was finally allowed to leave after Hanson waved her off like a nuisance.

Patty held her gun securely as she made Tala walk ahead of her. Seeing how the dreamwalker preferred to painfully jab her body whenever they needed to turn, Tala let her mind wander. She thought about the poison affecting Neteyam.

What was the efficacy of her scent? Did it have an active effect that persisted even without close proximity? Or was he just baring with it? How long would it be effective for once she was absent? Did it do more than ‘help with headaches’?

Her head was filled with so many potential hypotheses that her neck was suddenly yanked back to stop her from crashing into someone.

A large recombinant solder stood tall over both women and he turned, a strange glint in his eye. Patty’s back straightened.

“Evening, Private. Done for the day?”

“Yes, Corporal Halloway, sir. Just escorting the newbie back to her cell now.”

Corporal Halloway leered at Tala, his interest was evident and Tala felt goosebumps on her neck. However, a chance was a chance, and there was no reason to only count on Corporal Tom for her survival and eventual escape. Halloway seemed at least he’d be simpler to talk to than the whole paradoxical mess that is Neteyam’s psyche.

He stepped forward and hummed nonchalantly as if he wasn’t already fucking her in his head.

“You take off, Private. I’ll make sure the prisoner gets back, secure and sound.”

Patty saluted and Tala was left alone with the Recom soldier, her arms shifted uncomfortably, sore from having been forced together the entire day. Halloway smelled disgusting and she had to school her expression to keep meek and wide-eyed to not gag.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let ol’Johhny take good care of you.” He said with a smug grin.

Now she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

He led her down different hallways, much emptier than the ones she’s been in before.

It was when Halloway slowed down to grab at her ass that Tala was wondering if this was a good idea. His scent was strangely minty, and he smelled more like the musty tawtute walls of the facility than anything.

“Don’t be shy now. I promise I’ll show you a real good time.” He prodded, squeezing her ass cheek firmly. Tala recoiled but nodded, biting her lip to appear enticed, and hoped he at least knew how to fuck.

She could smell him before she could see him, sunlillies and bark mixed with gunpowder and she grimaced at the unnatural addition. Halloway looked up.

“Yo, Tommy! Training’s already over?” He asked breezily as his fellow corporal stalked towards him, Neteyam’s expression was unreadable as usual.

He nodded and Tala ignored the feeling of his eyes burning into the side of her head.

“That’s right. What’ve you got here?” Corporal Tom asked in an even tone.

“Hmm, just something sweet. Need something to help me sleep like a baby, you know?”

“Hmm.”

Corporal Tom squeezed Tala’s free shoulder, standing opposite of Halloway.

“But I want this particular treat. Been looking forward to it all day. How about you look for something else.” It wasn’t a question.

Neteyam’s gaze was extremely unsettling, eyes barely masking a foul mood and violent intent. Halloway raised his eyebrow at him, confused, and glanced between the two na’vi. After a beat of silence, Halloway raised both hands in peace.

“Alright, since you want it so bad, you can have her. It’s my turn next time though!” Halloway conceded and walked away lazily. Tala felt her spirit and ego droop, that was it? Was she not worthy of even a little bit more reluctance? When the Recom walked out of earshot, she turned to Neteyam quite haughtily.

“Surely you knew you’d have to share, yes?” She said with an unamused look on her face. Neteyam’s cockblocking was going to be a problem in her chances of escape.

Instead of answering, he grabbed Tala by the neck and pushed her into a room on their left, knocking the air out of her lungs as she landed on what seemed to be a bed. Her head hit the wall and she winced, cradling it. The blaring lights didn’t take it any better, it was harsh and the bed was barely even that, extremely stiff. A near claustrophobic, windowless room.

Halloway had intended to bring her to one of the rutting/heat rooms, closed off from the rest of the facility and meant for the growing number of Recombinant na’vi. It was private and soundproof, most used it for more casual purposes than it was designed for.

Tala glared up at Neteyam only to see huge pools of sunlight, his pupils intensely compacted and focused on her. He seemed very territorial for someone who considered her a toy.

She kneeled up quickly on the bed, intrigued.

“Did you really want to keep me to yourself?” She cooed, almost laughing. Tala leaned against Neteyam who stood, hands and face resting on his toned stomach as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. Maybe not entirely hopeless.

“Watch yourself. Halloway smells like shit and that defeats the purpose of you.” Neteyam sneered, shoving Tala back. She rolled into a stand and gracefully draped her trapped arms around his head with a coy smile, bewildering Neteyam. He had half a mind to just kick her out of Bridgehead and be done with her, migraines be damned. 

“If you wanted me to be all yours, I prefer being courted with beaded tops and food.” Tala was positively glowing, her smile was full of mirth.

“I changed my mind. I’d rather shoot you.”

She giggled. Neteyam looked at her like she was crazy and his body felt hot, he attributed it to anger from her insolence. He growled as he grabbed at the backs of her legs and landed both of them on the top of the bed. Her linked arms made it impossible for her to move away.

“Hey-!” Tala yelped, the back of her head stung hitting the hard pillow.

Neteyam kissed her hard, sick of her speaking. The kiss had them both opening their mouths wide, fangs clacking, their arousals grinding against each other. The friction made Tala arch her back and moan breathily.

To his intense displeasure that moan just turned into more airy giggling.

“But what about tomorrow, or the day after that? Are you going to see me every day, is that it?” Tala asked mockingly, her tail swishing back and forth cheekily. Neteyam said nothing and smirked.

Tala’s smile dropped and her tail stilled. There was no way this skxawng was serious.

Neteyam scoffed then dove his face over the crook of her neck to inhale more of her spicy-sweet scent. He bit at her neck, right under her jaw, and suckled her skin, she shivered and moaned. 

“I’m not surprised you already need a reminder of what you are.”

Before Tala could process his words, suddenly he was ripping her arms off his head and manhandled her to land on the floor on her ass.

“Ow! You fucking brute, you could’ve-“ She started to curse but froze when quick hands practically ripped off the metal buckles of his tactical harness and zipped down his pants just enough for his heavy cock to hang free.

Tala was glad she was on her knees because they were already feeling weak looking at the size of it.

Thick-vein and ribbed, Tala nearly cursed Eywa for making this particular creation so infuriatingly perfect. His tip was already leaking precum that smelled so unfortunately divine to her nose.

Neteyam’s ego naturally inflated as he watched her practically salivate over his cock, not even fully hard. He smirked as he taunted her. “Be a good girl and maybe I’ll even fuck you with it.”

Her clunt clenched around nothing and Tala could feel her cheeks flush even deeper and she bit her lips shut.

“Open.” He rasped heatedly and with his other hand, he lifted the tip to her lips. She blinked up at him through her long eyelashes and paused. His pupils were already blown wide black, looking more and more like he wanted to devour her whole, and her entire body felt flushed under his concentrated stare.

She let her eyelids drop and held eye contact as her tongue slowly lapped at his tip for a taste.

Salty, his musk was dizzying her. He kept still.

Tala opened her jaw wider to take the in head slowly.

Neteyam yanked her head forward and held onto her with both hands. He let out a long groan feeling her throat spasm and squeeze his length in her panic. His hips started moving slowly, uncaring for how much she was choking on his thick length.

“Fuck…” He breathed out quietly over her muffled whimpers.

Tears beaded on Tala’s eyelashes at the sudden burn in her throat and her hands flew to his clothed thighs, clawing onto them for dear life as Neteyam started fucking her mouth. He leveraged her head in time with his hips, making her nose hit his pelvis each time, ignoring every gag.

Tala tried her best to relax her throat, laying her tongue flat against the underside of his cock, though her adaptability only earned her insults.

“Such a slut. You’re used to this, aren’t you?” He growled tauntingly and pulled out his cock almost all the way before slamming it back into her windpipe. She screamed around his hard cock, the vibrations making him rut while the sound stroked his ego. His eyes were open, enthralled in watching her fall apart and choke, uselessly trying to squirm and push away from him. Precum and drool dribbled from the sides of her swollen lips and Neteyam felt like he could cum from just the sound of her desperate whines alone.

“You’re a toy, Tala, my toy. And I’ll use my toy whenever I want.” Neteyam chuckled darkly but Tala could barely hear at this point. His cock was bruising her throat, her eyes were watering nonstop and her head was spinning.

His moans and grunts filled the room, he’s not sure how he was able to keep this long without Tala’s mouth. It was tight and wet, and it felt so good to shut her up. Tala worked her tongue to massage the underside, she couldn’t help moaning as she felt every hard ridge of his cock. Her tewng was soaked through even despite the abuse of her mouth. He could smell her so clearly, her arousal made him enjoy her mouth all the more.

“You only exist for me now.” Neteyam muttered with a wicked smile. He then stilled, holding Tala’s head down. Her eyes were darting up at him and his figure, yet he just waited. He waited for her fingers to start trembling and dug into his clothes thighs. Waited for her to try forcing her head back against his grip. Waited for her drool to overflow, her whimpers to get louder and louder, her throat to convulse-

“Do you understand, ma’fil(my toy)?”

Tala nodded desperately.

Neteyam let her head go and she lurched backward, coughing out drool and precum. She gasped and shuddered, tears running down her cheeks and even her tail was too weak to raise itself from the ground. He graciously allowed a few more seconds before he started pulling her head towards him again.

Tala resigned to her current fate, dizzied and hot from him abusing her throat. He liked her like this, so much more compliant. Neteyam loved the way her eyes rolled back every time she gasped for breath and how all that drool was running down her neck, to the floor, and dripping from her tits.

“Good girl… there’s hope for you yet.” He muttered, now his hips adding more force every time she sunk down to his hilt. She moaned a whine, her mouth felt fucking heavenly.

He let out tawtute curses under his breath and kept Tala’s head still, snapping his cock into her mouth in fast strokes. 

Finally, Neteyam let out a long curse and froze, eyes snapped shut as he came in the back of her throat. Tala’s eyes rolled back, she just couldn’t swallow, she couldn’t breathe, and her body was twitching and desperate for air.

When he finally pulled out of her mouth, Tala collapsed forward, coughing and leaking cum from her swollen lips.

There were barely any thoughts in her head, only the taste of his cum and the unsatisfied throbbing of her pussy.

Neteyam tugged her head up by her hair, he wanted to see her face.

Eywa, she looked so wrecked, he could tell she was barely even registering the force of his grip and it made him smirk.

Tala knew what a complete mess she must’ve looked like, she had basically sobbed around that wonderfully–stupidly– ribbed cock. After she regained some sense she looked up begrudgingly, ears ready to hear whatever smug shit was about to spew from that handsome face.

“Good girl. You did your best.” UGH

“Fuck you.” It was harder to speak than she thought it would be.

He chuckled. He pressed some button on his wrist tech and with a drop, Tala’s hands unlinked. She looked down, then looked up, mind still catching up.

“You… could have done that this entire time?”

“What’s the problem? You only used your mouth.”

Tala hissed. She looked down on herself, cum and unholy amount of drool stuck to her skin and made her feel that much more dirty. She empathically placed her hands on both of his thighs to support herself to her feet and then leaned close to his face.

“Well, your toy wants to be clean now, if you don’t mind.” She glowered. Unsatisfied or not, Tala would rather get cleaned than anything at that moment. Neteyam looked down to watch his cum dripping down her neck and tits, decorating her boobs enticingly, his smug smile widened.

“You’ve never looked better.” He smiled as if he had given her a genuine compliment and Tala wanted to suffocate him. Before the Tawkami girl could reach for the pillow, Neteyam suddenly stood up, stepped out of his pants, and tugged off his shirt lazily. He grabbed Tala around her waist and carried her like a sack into the connected bathroom unit. There had to be one when heats or ruts could last days at a time.

“O-Oh! Neteyam, you skxawng!” She struggled, cursing. He sighed. “I’ll drop you.” Tala went limp.

The bathroom was small, more like a wet room with a connected hand-hold faucet. Obviously, Neteyam got to it first, and obviously, he turned it on and struck her with freezing water and he laughed meanly at the scream that came out of her mouth.

“Such a fucking—!” She expeled a long string of na’vi curses that Neteyam didn’t bother to listen to. All of her was wet and cold and Tala flung her wet hair at Neteyam to slap him. He merely chuckled and when the water turned warm, he held the showerhead above his head and pulled her in to let it soak down her too.

“Gotta help clean my toy, yes?” He replied and Tala scoffed. She worked on washing her face and ran her hands along her neck and chest, pawing at her breasts to get that sticky feeling and his smell off of her.

Maybe Neteyam was staring. Maybe he was thinking of pushing her against the wall and having her scream his name out of pleasure this time.

When Tala looked back at him, cheeks still red and lips still swollen, now her hair cascading in soft wet waves, he seriously contemplated having that thought be a reality.

“Your toy is fragile, it’d be a problem for you too if I broke.” She said snarkily, knowing exactly what was going on in his mind. “Your headband, skxawngs.” She lightly pulled the headband off before the fabric got completely soaked. 

Neteyam watched as she gently placed it on a dry ledge, away from the spray, then massaged the area of his mark on her neck.

He supposed he could have been gentler with the bite, with the way it bruised ugly vivid colors and still had hard shells of blood. Tala glanced up at him, his scar visible. He was still handsome even with the scar on his forehead, which was infuriating, but still, it was large, and it looked… as if it was burning inside him.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, both knew what she was referring to. He snorted.

“Do you care?”

“Oh, yes, I enjoy asking about things I don't care about! You act as if I like wasting my own time.” She replied sarcastically.

“You do, you do it all the time.”

Tala screwed up her face and turned away from him with a huff, because maybe he was technically correct, it was a coincidence. She’d rather freeze outside than spend another second with him. He stopped her by just barely ghosting his fingers over her elbow.

“It doesn’t right now.” His voice was low, likely honest. She paused. 

“Let me see.”

Neteyam highly considered not, but right now she was closer to the exit, and therefore his gun, so he relented. He put the showerhead on a hook that let the water run on them both and leaned down with a sigh. Tala gingerly held his face, completely focused on the scar tissue. There was skin trauma, sure, though it was as if injected with something dark, swirling, active. But still, a question picked at her brain.

“Why do you hide it?” The People did not consider scars unseemly, they were proof of their survival. This was too.

Neteyam pulled his face away from her hands.

“Tawtutes stare.”

“Tawtutes always stare.” Tala countered. He raised his brows at her and they stared for a moment in silence. He sighed.

“Some specific scientists stare. I don’t like the look on their faces, they look… pleased with themselves.” Neteyam admitted without looking at her in the eye. He wasn’t completely sure why he was explaining this. Maybe because of that along with headaches, he felt his usual aggressive thoughts… silence. Feeling clearheaded out of battle felt strange after months otherwise.

“Do you remember how you died?” Tala knew it was a sensitive question but they have already established that neither felt like being patient with the other. Neteyam kept still like a statue, eyes challenging her.

“Lo’ak shot me. Right here.” He pointed to his forehead scar.

Tala’s eyes widened, that wasn’t what she was told. He saw her disbelief and his voice turned scornful.

“Of course, he never told you, maybe didn’t tell anyone. Skxawng was returning fire, then hit me instead.” His face twisted in anger, betrayal, and the vitriol in his words made her feel sick.

“That’s… That’s not what I heard. Kiri said-”

“Kiri wasn’t there. I’m sure my Mother finished my songcord with a heroic ending. How could she sing ‘slain by his baby brother’?” He growled, fangs showing his spite. He straightened his back and wiped water from his face in an act to center himself. His eyes became even colder as he stared down at her.

“Besides, Tala, how well do you even know my family? Would you really be able to tell if they’re lying?”

The words stung but it was already where the Tawkami woman’s mind went to. She was closest with Kiri, and for Tuk she didn’t want to pry. Lo’ak only confessed that he hadn’t visited the Tree of Voices even once after a long night of drinking kava. He and Spider both asked for her help with their nightmares and she had concocted strong sleeping droughts for a peaceful sleep, but even once and a while they would still scream themselves awake.

Her tail swung erratically as her mind raced. Only Kiri had told her of their family surrounding Neteyam as he died, bleeding out. Her eyes shifted to the large scar on his chest instead.

It ruled out the headshot, the chest was his death shot, but how involved was Lo’ak? Her stance wavered in the face of Neteyam’s eyes scorching white heat through her own. If her eyes were a forest, Neteyam’s sun was burning it down.

Tala closed her eyes. Regardless, her theory was answered and the details surrounding Neteyam’s death didn’t matter to her, not when she was focused on her survival. This was not her goal.

“So the scientists brought you back. Shouldn’t you be proud of them?” She asked instead. He glowered.

“You and I both know that I shouldn’t be here.”

Tala hummed, neutral. He knew it was wrong for him to be alive, but now that he was he would be fighting for the RDA’s behalf. She smiled, slightly embittered, mostly sad.

“Seems like no one in this war will let you rest.” Neteyam found her words surprisingly sincere. The way her leaf-green eyes seemed actually so upset for his sake though unnerved him, her sentiment made awful feelings swirl in his gut and it twisted him further.

“Must seem like that for the Tawkami’s ‘Sevin Prrnesyul(Pretty flower bud). No one’s expected much from you, have they?” Neteyam’s words were venomous, malicious, and Tala bristled at them. What just happened, how poisoned was he to take her words like that? She pursed her lips, she really shouldn’t lower herself down to his level.

“Says the vrrteps’ amazing experiment. You're a wonderful little trophy for them, aren’t you?” She bit back before thinking and Neteyam glared, his nose twitched.

“Not as much of a trophy as you are. Prison must already be torture for you, you’re so used to just sitting still and smiling, and being fed well for it.”

Tala’s smile became saccharine and she raised to her tiptoes. This asshole-

“Aw, I’m honored the strong and mighty would be-Oloeyketan finds me desirable, it’s truly an honor. I’m sorry, I’m too busy smiling so I won't be able to immediately grovel at your-”

The way Neteyam smirked and puffed up his chest arrogantly made her stop dead. He tilted his head condescendingly. She sensed her mistake.

“Go on, little toy. Finish that sentence.” He taunted. Her face soured.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Tala replied scathingly, returning his smile.

Neteyam cupped her ass tight and it made her let out a high-pitched squeal. She flushed deeply and bit her lips into an ashamed frown and he laughed meanly. He eyed her lips, still red and swollen and he licked his own.

“Yes, do mind the drool.” She quipped and he rolled his eyes. He flicked the shower off and then again manhandled her in his arms and she screamed.

“Stop picking me up!!” Her head swung downwards and she almost thought he was going to drop her on her head and really kill her until she just hovered over his half-hard cock. She could see it twitching to life and she stared.

“You are so-nng~!” Tala moaned weakly when Neteyam licked a flat stripe against her pussy lips, blood was rushing to her head. Neteyam encircled his taut muscles around her waist and proceeded to bury his mouth into her hot cunt, already leaking juices.

Tala grabbed onto his thick thighs for support, only brushing her face closer to his hard cock. Whether or not she sucked it, he found that didn’t care. He just wanted to suck her sensitive flesh and juices, envelop himself in her spicy and sweet perfume and listen to her babble stupidly for his tongue.

Her embarrassment afterward was always an added bonus.

Slick was trickling down her ass and her belly as he feasted, massaging and twisting his tongue inside, sucking at her clit. Her pussy fluttered and spasmed, Tala’s strangled moans bounced against the tiles. She needed something, anything to hold onto-

Neteyam lip’s stuttered a groan when he felt her warm mouth enveloping his cock. He chuckled softly on her sensitive bud, vibrations making her mewl and her thighs twitch around his head.

“Such a good toy f’me.” He husked, then returned to his meal. It was even harder to breathe like this but Tala drooled at how her throat convulsed around his hot shaft. Every time she needed to take a breath her tongue swirled around the fat head of his cock, her fingers bumping against themselves as they massaged every ridge firmly.

The blood was getting to her head and her legs were feeling numb but Neteyam’s tongue only dug deeper and sloppier into the sensitive and gummy walls. 

Tala panted quickly, her thighs started tensing up, she was so close so unbearably close-

Neteyam gave a final suck at her clit and withdrew his mouth from her puffy pussy.

The wholly needy whine that came out of Tala’s mouth was so unrestrained he almost felt bad for her. Almost.

He let Tala down, laying her whole body on the floor, and stared satisfactorily at her trembling body. Tala was not thinking straight otherwise she would’ve stopped herself from backing her ass up against his cock, mewling desperately.

He thumbed at her throbbing pussy languidly with a smile, he found it cute how tightly it was milking his thumb.

“Nete-please!” Tala begged, her pussy aching to be filled, begging for a release.

“I think I’m tired of playing.”

Tala huffed, she knew that was a fucking lie, looking at how rock-hard his cock was. She brought her knees up and reached between her legs, still giving Neteyam a good view.

“Then you can watch.” Tala growled heatedly and plunged her own fingers into her weeping pussy, holding eye contact. Her fingers would be just enough, her other hand furiously rubbing at her clit.

She never broke eye contact, eyelids drooping as she panted and moaned without reservation.

He wasn’t expecting this, it was unmistakably hot and he started pumping his cock in rhythm with her fingers.

They kept moaning as they watched each other writhe in pleasure and finally Tala’s eyes rolled back and she came so hard her body stayed rigid. Neteyam came in time, hot streaks of his cum decorated her ass and back, another pretty picture.

Her thighs trembled and Tala’s body collapsed, her fingers slipping out. They breathed hard for a few moments before she disturbed the short peace.

“Enjoyed the show?” She said weakly, her giggles made Neteyam’s ears twitch.

“Looks like you enjoyed yourself more.” He quipped back.

“Mm, just admit you were captivated.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You were impossibly captivated? You just like me so much, don’t you?”

Neteyam voted internally to ignore her as he carelessly cleaned himself, barely helpful to Tala, and threw the already used towel once he was done with it at her face. Her squawk of indignation managed to quirk a smile on his face.

Once both were clothed and dry enough, Tala opened her arms at him, still situated on the bathroom floor. He furrowed his brows up, somehow she always created new ways to confound him.

“I can’t walk.”

Neteyam looked at the mischievous swaying of her tail and growled. He had decided he had had enough of Tala for the day. He didn’t even realize he had already picked up the Tawkami girl over his shoulder and carried her down the halls. Oh, she resisted at first, yelled and struggled, but by the time they reached the prisons she had begrudgingly fallen silent.

The guards stood at attention when they spotted Neteyam.

“Sir, Corporal Tom, sir.” They said, recognizing the prominent Recom soldier instantly. He basically deposited Tala onto one of them.

“At ease. Return this one to their cell.” His voice resumed its usual coldness, but Tala gritted her teeth, she could hear his smug undertone. She was annoyed but unsurprised, a least he carried her

So Tala kept her mouth shut even as the guards shoved her back into her cell, kept it shut as she fumed on the cold floor and slowly fell asleep, and kept it shut until the next time she had to return to inspection.

His ailment confused her and the rupture in his memories worried her even more. But there was nothing she would be able to do for him, he obviously needed someone more attuned to Eywa, a Tsahik, Kiri.

It was not her destiny to save Neteyam, and she doubted he wanted any anyways.

–

A couple of weeks passed with more or less little fanfare. Every few days or so, more samples would arrive in the lab and she’d report in, inspect, and identify and every so often mess around with Hanson and the other tawtutes. It was fun to see his face turn red and the glass of his exo-pack steam up as he sputtered.

She couldn’t exactly swipe any plant materials, but little bits of metal wires, paperclips, and loose scrap metal went by unnoticed. All she gave to Orlek’an to fashion whatever she wished. Tala thought it would be maybe hair trinkets, come to find out instead the Anurai na’vi made darts.

She was only slightly offended she hadn’t seen Neteyam since that day, but neither had she seen any other Recombinant soldier. It didn’t even matter anyways, the RDA dreamwalkers were strangely hesitant approaching her now.

“Alright, that’s enough for today. We’ll call for you again once we gather more samples.” He said simply and Tala acknowledged it with a glance his way. Hanson grumbled and spoke. “Patty, please get her out of here. And call R&D techs, this thing is driving me crazy.” The tawtute waved around the translator and Tala couldn’t stop the slight grin.

“Will do, get some rest Dr. Hanson.” Patty said and Tala slowly stood up from her seat with a sigh.

Her head snapped up. Tala smelled something alarming, txumpaywll root with notes of cinnamon. Innocuous for adult na’vi but paralyzing for a child, and she basically considered a human adult’s immune system to be that of children.

“Stop!” She shouted, her eyes searching wildly for the source. The two tawtutes who were always in the back froze, tongs loosely holding a large pod.

“What are you on-” Hanson tried to shout at her but she gasped. The microseconds dragged as she watched the seed pod slip away from the tongs’ grip and–

It was too late, a plume of sickly green smoke erupted from the beaker, and within seconds the entire room filled with the sleeping gas. Tala covered her nose and mouth, the Tawkami built up their immunity towards drugs like this. She heard Patty coughing and the tawtutes gasping, their exo-packs were not meant to filter this.

She bounded towards the beaker and dumped the solution in the chemical sink, getting rid of the source but the gas was already in their lungs. Tala cursed, her eyes darted for anything, healing roses, fpomron leaves, something fast. Something in the back of Tala’s mind creeped up to the surface, she didn’t need to save any of these tawtutes. They worked to destroy Eywa, not just study it.

Tala looked at the scientists, looking pale and gasping for breath despite their exo-packs and hazmat suits being intact. Patty’s avatar was on the floor, slumbering peacefully. She cursed loudly, Great Mother she was an alchemist not a warrior!

The Tawkami acted quickly, grabbing at plant matter and dried samples from the cabinets. She used the handle end of the stun baton to crush and grind them, creating inhalants. Scooping them in a petri dish Tala swiftly brought it to the two scientists on the floor.

“Smell!” She barked at one before removing their exo-pack slightly, shoving the petri dish to their face. She mimed the action on her own face and the tawtute followed suit, Tala reinstalled the mask and moved to the next one.

By the time the Tawkami got to Hanson, he was already fully unconscious and she expertly puffed the inhalant up his nostrils, used to doing this for ailed children.

The mechanical doors opened and revealed a shorter woman with a blond ponytail wearing an exo-mask and two Recombinant soldiers.

“Stop right there!” She screamed, Tala faltered. Patty? A second after she resecured Hanson’s exo-mask she was kicked off of him by a Recom and she yelped in pain.

When she hit the ground Tala tried to explain but her wrist cuffs activated and a painful crash of lightning coursed through her body.

“Stop…stop!” A scientist from the corner called out and Patty nodded. The cuffs deactivated and the Tawkami’s body was left jerking erratically and stiff on the lab floor.

When she looked up she saw a vaguely familiar face, Corporal Halloway? He smiled and she committed his name to her personal curse list.

Her vision was darkening fast, she could see the tawtute Patty run towards Halloway and yell something, another hazmat-suited scientist started shouting.

As Tala closed her eyes, a whiff of sunlillies tickled her nose. Surely not. Wouldn’t it be just rich for him to arrive and watch her convulse on the floor, he’d probably have difficulty holding in his glee.

She took one last breath before everything became dark. Was that… blood?

Tala hated the smell of blood.

tag list: @xylianasblog @itchaboi-itchyboy @hotdsworld @pandoraslxna @luvv4j4ybe11 @neteyamsyawntu @akoyaxs @whatevenisagrapefruit @teyamsatan @justcaptiannoodles @theblueflower05 @neteluvr @neteyamssyulang @plooto @hao-ming-8 @teyamsilly @vivid-ink

[mkeyztrm]

K.

- cigarettes after sex

“ and I’m kissing you, lying in my room. holding you until you fall asleep, and it’s just as good as I knew it would be. Stay with me, I don’t want you to leave. ”

Warnings(?): Toxic parents, 🍃 (barely)

nick sturniolo x m!reader(?)

I’ve never really written something like this before, so please keep that in mind 😭

Idk if this would be considered an m!reader thingy, but the character in first person is a male! I hope that makes sense 😞

——————————————————————————

All it took was the contact we made between our eyes, which ironically enough are also polar opposites.

Outside of my apartment complex stands a statue probably about a billion years old, it’s completely abandoned but it works as a perfect escape for when the world comes crashing down. I go there nearly every day, it’s really the only physical place I can go when shit gets rough at home. I can’t help but feel trapped in my own house whenever my parents have their little arguments, it’s like they forget they even have a kid. Today they started arguing because the dishes weren’t done, and somehow that just set off all of the missles in my mother’s heart, she snapped. So that’s why I’ve decided to go to the statue today, it’s my safe space when I don’t have one.

The area around me is swollen with plants, dark green vines wrapped around the chipped stone i sit on. As I’m walking down and pass the grassy corner I come to a sudden stop when I hear familiar footsteps around my spot. I slowly step forward and peek around to see a beautiful boy, around my age. His pretty brown hair is emphasized by the sunlight, and his heartstopping eyes are as well. I recognize him as the boy who lives down the hall, I’ve seen him a few times when I’ve had to leave the house. We’ve never spoke other than a simple “hey” or “hi”

“Hello? Hi sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

I quickly apologized before turning around. As I take my first step forward I hear his soothing voice.

“No, no you’re okay. I’m just taking pictures of the area. Do you want to join me?”

“If that wouldn’t be an issue, then yeah. I just need to get out of the house for a minute, you know?”

He watches me as I sit down, then he sits down next to me while he lowers his camera to his side. I can tell he’s as awkward as me, he’s just better at hiding it than I am.

“My name’s Nick, Nick sturniolo. What’s yours?”

“Oh, uh. My name is Jakson. Spelt J-A-K. You can just call me Jak though if you’d prefer.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jak.”

“Nice to meet you too, Nick”

with a smile across my face i look over to my right jacket pocket and pull out a lighter. I looked at him and gestured towards it, offering him a hit. He nods his head and says “Sure, why not. I’m not doing anything later anyway.” I hand him my lighter, then I hand him a joint that I pulled out of my pocket along with the lighter.

“But I could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then.”

Minutes turn into hours, hours turn into four more. Throughout our sesh we shared our reasoning for hanging out here so often. His surprised me, I didn’t expect him to be a triplet, let alone the oldest. He explained to me in full depth that he comes out here whenever his brothers get to be too obnoxious, or whenever he doesn’t want to participate in one of their stupid joke arguments. He told me that he loves them very much, he just needs some time for him self as well. I didn’t know somebody could understand me that well.

“And I’m taking pictures of you with flowers on the wall.”

As time goes by, my head ends up on his thighs. My head resting on him while we watch the stars together. He let out a soft giggle whenever I’d point out a constellation or a shooting star, and for some reason that made both myself and my heart happy. Being with him made my heart skip a beat everytime he spoke. I never knew it was possible to become so close to someone in only a day. I looked back up at him, and he looked down at me. He let out a smile, so I did too.

God, my heart was racing so fast. You guys just met, and you’re already each other’s only friend. Is it shameful to have these thoughts about some boy you’ve only seen in a hallway before this? Before I could continue thinking, he placed his hand on my head and gently stroked my head with that grin on his face. He kept eye contact with me, and put his other hand on my head as well.

I think I’ve finally fallen for somebody.

“Think I like you best when you’re just with me, and no one else.”

After a long while the sun starts to come up, but I’m still rested on his lap. He looked down at me, I looked back up at him.

nick holds my face tight and gently presses his soft lips against mine, leaving me no time to react. Not that I needed to react, he’s so heavenly. He grabs my hand and stands up so I stood up with him. I can tell he wants to say something, but his face shows his thoughts are jumbled.

“Could I get your number? I think we should come out here again and hangout. Next time I’ll bring a blanket and snacks if we’re out here for that long again.”

“Oh definitely. My number is (xxx)xxx-xxxx. Feel free to text me anytime you want, boy. I’ll always be available for you.”

we walked up to the apartment building together, he made sure I got home safe. Before i walked inside of my house I made sure to smile and wave. I waited until he had walked away to shut the door.

I made my way back to my bedroom and passed out asleep the moment I hit my mattresses. I love this boy.

——————————————————————————

HIII thanks for reading 🫶

I’m so sorry if this is bad, I really only write poems and I’m dyslexic as hell. I just wanted to write something for the first time and see how it went.

Please do not criticize this in the replies, I’m overly sensitive and will take it to heart 😭. /gen

————

@inlovewithmattstur lord how do you write so fast.

[cookiekat-blogz]

Why is Akutagawa literally like the best Bungo Stray Dogs character ever?

this is half satire by the way, but I mayyy go into depth for SOME things if I feel like it. (big fat silly kinnie rant with spoilers)

#1

hes a cutie patootie. yeah he's brow-less but like, its 2024, who isn't? seriously. show me an alt person on tiktok with eyebrows /hj

#2

hes silly. Yeah he may be extremely violent especially twoards Atsushi (the foot in the face was definitely personal) and anyone else he is made to defeat, but that's quite literally how he was raised. Don't forget we're talking about PM Dazai here. He was raised by Mori, what can we say? (#justice4dazai2024) We can assume (using the BEAST manga) that up until the point where Dazai turned him down, the things that occurred were relatively close to canon.

(or not idk I didn't finish the mangas. why read some rando's essay that can't even spell's abt some sassy victorian man child on the internet, infact, why are you even reading this in the first place?)

So we can assume he's been through a hell-of-alot of trauma with everyone close to him. His siblings and friends dying, and even himself tasting death and Dazai was practically his savior-- his controversial, abusive, strict, hot, gay, problematic, silly, teenage savior. Even if that's not what went down in the main series, what he went through was enough for Akutagawa to idolize Dazai, the same man that has hurt him oh so much.

(hey its the cycle of abuse, and guess who was next in line?) that's right, Kyouka. (even if Kyouka was more impacted by Kouyou) But no, this won't be a rant about Akutagawa and Kyouka's relationship, it's simply "Why you should love Aku" and totally nothing else. wait, what was I saying??

#3

he's headless, be nice /j

#4

the fit is fire. I mean like, bring back ruffles frl. he ate down. he's even so silly he doesn't even know the name of the ruffle thing he's wearing (the collar ruffle thing is called a cravat.)

#5

hes a Picies. They do no wrong. Trust me, I know. (totally not biased or anything)

#6

His relationship with Atsushi. Their so cute like every scene together even when their fighting its just like 'make out alr'. He seems heartless and cruel and its like he hates Atsushi, but really as you can see when "Where's Your Head At?" by Basement Jaxx started playing, he cares for Atsushi deep down inside. Deep, deep, deep down. Must be really deep if it took literally dying to be nice. Seriously, even if he called him a 'damn fool' he's smiling, it's so sweet it makes me cry. As the blood traversing in his neck goes on its repetitive journey for its sole purpose of bringing oxygen to the rest of his body, it suddenly changes direction, hurriedly spraying out of the newfound opening made by a time traveling sword, and finally escaping through his pale, soon to be lifeless, dark red soaked neck. Yet, he is smiling through it all, telling his furry boyfriend "rival" to run. he cares. Just look at this beautifully colored pannel by Akutagoth on reddit:

def didn't want an excuse to show this beautiful art or anything.

#7

hes an introvert, fight me on this real.

#8

hes fruity. you don't even have to ship sskk to agree, just listen to how he talks. either this or he's a time traveler from the 19th century.

#9

the hair solos, like seriously, his hair is so cool I want it. bring back dark to light fade. /srs

#9 1/2 (I made a specific post just for this so you can just skip it.)

Also, speaking of hair, anyone else ever notice how yin-yang Akutagawa and Atsushi are? Yeah they are both orphans that were taken in by Dazai and "abused by their handler" ('handler' is wild ngl) but in the main series Atsushi is more Yang and Akutagwa is more Yin, character wise, and even design wise. Yet, in Beast (a spin-off where Akutagawa ends up in the ADA and Atsushi ends up in the PM) the roles are reversed and Aku is more Yang and Atsu is more Yi, further emphasizing that this difference between the two isn't accidental (not claiming simply speculating).

Akutagawa is relatively bad but he has shown how he could be good, in the main series, Wan, and beast. he's undeniably a good brother (just look at how much he cares for his sister in beast, he even joined the ADA and made it his purpose to find her after he learned that she was in the mafia.) He keeps promises, hates meaningless torture-- which believe it or not shows a bit about his character-- (haha he does have emotions even if it may be stemmed from a deep psychological trauma). He also has a mainly dark but light accent wardrobe, from the ends of his hair to the very same accessory that he can't even name. help I ran out of good character traits I think I'm failing

Atsushi is relatively good, and even seems to be blind to it at times, but he has shown his not the best traits. He's kinda like Gon, but less merciless, even when it comes to fights with Akutagawa (sometimes). His good:bad ratio is pretty skewed though, no matter how much he may envy or hate his kindness kinda just... drowns it out. Evil headmaster dies? cry. Evil goth boyfriend partner dies? scream. Evil American enemy still lives? team up with him. Evil 14 year old serial assassin in the port mafia exist? save her.

Although, he's pretty rash/blunt (that Dazai diss was wild aku didn't do anything to deserve that) and its also shown in wan and other scenes in the main series that he would probably participate in a 2017-19 roast battle(hj) and holds some strong grudges. (help I ran out of bad character traits he's too good, its like he's so good and he doesn't even try.) Butttt apperence wise, his singular black hair streak in a head of light whatever-colored-hair (in contrast to Akutagawa's) and accents of black (suspenders, tail-belt-thing that moves as if he was Cat Noir, tie, gloves, pants, shoes) do what Akutagwa's 19th century ruffles do best. Be utterly useless and ugly and feed into the theory that he is a time traveler Contrast.

Basically, Shin Soukoku canon because opposites attract.

#10

back to number 2, he's silly. he's super sassy and may be a bit slow sometimes have thought that shrimp grows from the dirt but just watch/read bsd wan! he's so cute <33 sure his back may be bigger(j) but still, just look:

hope that was enough to convince you cause I'm out of reasons sorry bro.

[dalarans]

the future atrophies

pairing: astarion/f!dark urge warnings: character death

read on ao3!

↓↓↓

“Get up!” Astarion shouts at her, his voice tearing at the edges. He falls to his knees beside her, hands pressing to the open wound on her stomach, thick red rolling over his fingers. “You’re not allowed to die! Not now, not ever!”

Her eyes are barely open, but they face the early morning. She can hardly see past the swirling blur of blues and whites. Morning, it is only morning, the thought presses against her eyelids. Her lips part, trying to speak, but the mere shapeless beauty before her catches on her tongue.

Astarion reaches for her cheek with a bloodied hand, leaving behind the shape of him on her skin. Her hollow gaze won’t meet his; there’s a heavy vacancy that he recognizes immediately. He’s seen enough death to know its slow but certain pull. The endless drift into darkness.

“Darling, I know you can hear me.” He tries to swallow his feelings. If he slips into a panic now, then all hope will be lost, and he can’t bear to be alone. “Focus on my voice. Please.”

She’s tracing invisible patterns in the blooming whites of the sky: a curving smile, the curls of white, the sharp panes of a face. She thinks she can see his face for a moment, the one she sees every morning and night. That toothy, mischievous smile that tightens her chest, making it so much harder to breathe but the world so much more bearable.

It’s an easy distraction from the bruising heat that anchors itself in her abdomen. Difficult to think when a numbness begins to spread to her limbs, and only a whistle of air escaping her parted lips. She wants to form his name, let her words call him forth from the overhead sky.

“I-I remember that time Scratch and the damned owl bear ran off into the lake by Last Light Inn.” He rubs his thumb in slow circles on her cheek, his other hand occupied against the gushing wound. “Instead of calling them back to shore, you waded into the water after them, pulling up your skirt as if you meant to keep it dry. I stood on the shoreline, rolling my eyes, while you charged right into the depths without a worry, without a care.” He almost laughs at the memory, if his love weren’t dying before him. “You laughed and called me in after you, even daring to splash me. You were persistent— charming. I wouldn’t have gone into that lake for a thousand gold coins but you… you…. You drew me forth, reaching out for me. I’d never felt so compelled to follow after someone into the unknown. It’s how I knew, knew I was falling for you.”

She inhales sharply, her chest stuttering against the agonizing pain. It takes her a moment, but her gaze shifts toward his face. She looks at the waves of silver tangled curls, near sparkling beneath the sun. Those round eyes that hold her, pinning her in place and shining with tears. His expression seems more wounded than that of her dying body.

“A..Astarion…” she whispers, half-certain her words are beyond comprehension.

“I’m here, my love.”

Here. Somehow here but not enough. His failing hands cannot save her.

“Stay… with me?”

She’s trying to smile, but her mouth barely listens to her dying commands. There’s another terribly long inhale. She tries desperately to hold onto the little air she’s allowed. Every movement has become painfully long and slow, the numbness crawling up her chest like a terrible beast.

“I won’t leave you.”

[light-lanterne]

hiii!!! how are you? Hope you’re doing well!!! I have some more questions about the disease in the darkest eyes, again you don’t have to answer if u don’t want to but I’m just really fascinated by this world you’ve created like I can’t stress this enough you are so talented!! anyways onto the questions, do any of the characters know about the disease? also what’s it called ? nd what role will it play in the story ? Also do any of the characters suspect that there’s a disease or r they clueless? sorry if thats a lot of questions I’m just curious! take care of yourself and make sure to stay hydrated!!!

hello !! i'm a little tired but okei, thank you ~ hope you're doing well yourself !! :O i'm happy you enjoy the lore i made up ~ ! your message really made me smile :]

(for anyone who didn't read the first part of this, i basically gave the characters an illness as a result of their exposure to the upside down in my story, which behaves a lot like a real life chronic fungal infection)

okei, so let's start with the easy part :O the name !! i took inspiration from actual scientific nomenclature and called the fungus "dieftharmenum", which has a root in the greek term for "corrupted" (διαφθορά / dieftharméni) since i thought it'd fit.

so,,, the name for the illness would be "dieftharmenosis" :]

as for the characters,,, they do know !! in my story, owens was basically reinstated to his s2 position as head scientist in upside-down-related matters, so he's keeping track of how things are going in hawkins and of the health of everyone involved in the entire kerfuffle (part of it is him repenting for his involvement in the nightmare, part of it is him being a shady scientist still x.x )

anyway, during one of his check-ups he noticed a foreign organism in everyone's blood and identified it after a little bit, putting in the resources to understand the fungus and find an adequate treatment for the infection, which he then gave to everyone. as such, the whole party is aware of it and have continued to engage with owens (albeit reluctantly) so they can get this medication (amphotericin b, which a treatment for a lot of life-threatening fungal infections) and keep from potential sequels ~

so, for the most part, that's the only role the infection has in the story. just some general world-building and adding to owens' continued shadyness >.<

there is, however, a secondary effect this whole thing has on byler and mike in particular, which i'll put under the cut since it could be a little bit upsetting :(

tw // aids and death mentions

chronic fungal infections have a lot of systematic repercussions on a person, both from the infections themselves and from their treatment. amongst many other symptoms and consequences, they tend to have a strong effect on the immune system,,,

,,,so, at a time when aids was a very real, very lethal thing that queer people (amab individuals, in particular) had to be wary of, to already be struggling with a chronic infection that lowers one's defenses and puts them at constant risk of death would be particularly terrifying situation to be in. specially with all the misinformation that was going around, specially in a small midwest town.

so, as if aids wasn't already a death sentence during this time, byler (and mike in particular) have it fully in their mind that this infection is going to get them killed the second they have contact with other queer men because there's no way they can survive both things at once :(

so yeah, that's the role my made-up infection has on the story x.x

anywayy, sorry if that's too dark or if it got too sad ;-; i promise this whole plot-point is not going to be described in too much depth (since this is from hop's pov) and i'll try to add lots of fluff and comfort whenever i get to tackle this issue >.<

i hope this answered your questions and that you find it somewhat interesting ~ thank you for the message and for letting me ramble about this stuff !! hope you have a great day or night, and please take care of yourself ~!!

the story || masterpost

[rpfofficial]

9, 11, 19, 21 :))

HI RYAN sorry thisbgot long but. :3

9. what’s a series or franchise you secretly or not so secretly think you’d be, like, a REALLY good writers for if they’d stop being cowards and hire you already?

okay the obvious answer is supernatural. i haven't had intense spn thoughts in months which is a good thing and a sign of healing but I know in my heart that I could fix that show I would treat it so well id be so good to it. Uhmm anyway. i also believe i would be an asset to the stranger things writing team because i loved it back in season 1 but now I have a very VERY mixed relationship with it (mostly including hatred and regret) but I could fix it i could fix them. Anyway.

11. if you currently write fanfiction or have ever written fanfiction, please tell us about the plot of the first fic you ever wrote

this is a difficult question because i genuinely don't know what the first fic i ever wrote was.... it was either marvel or harry potter sorry everyone. they were both when I was around 8 years old i just dont know which STARTED first. the harry potter one was basically just me making a bunch of ocs and putting them into the world with a new original villain. it was pretty good, considering, like 8 Yr old me did some in depth character development and I still have the notebook I used to outline chapters and write down songs that made me think of certain characters or stuff like that. and tge marvel thing was something I wrote with my cousin where we made a bunch of our own superheroes and villains that teamed up with the avengers and it was basically (comics universe) infinity war but to the left. notable heroes included Vortex who wore a suit that looks like the guys from Daft Punk and can create mini black holes out of thin air, and Jaguar who was basically my mini wolverine but she was also an acrobat. so yeah. My cousin had a guy called Dr Emoji who drove the emojibile and created little minions modeled after emoji faces and they basically fought for him. Me and my cousin are both autistic btw

19. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

UHHMMMM i don't know i can't remember nothing comes to mind. i know things. I learn things. but I can't tell u something i learned specifically while researching for a writing project. I'm most likely to remember at a random moment when it isn't important or relevant sorry ry :') um and I've never written anything that required a ton of research, but i do it for everything I write, even for small things, and not always on a huge scale. does this make sense. research is important but i don't regard it as SUPER important . Depending on what ur writing.

21. BIG ask: what do you think is the most important component of a good story?

gay sex . no im kidding. its hard to pick just 1 thing but if i must say there are 2 components that are important to ME personally:

1) complex characters that are memorable, whether they are loved or hated, characters that make you feel things and even if you aren't rooting for them you still care to see what happens to them

2) funny stuff like genuinely intelligent comedy even if it's a super duper serious and dark story if there aren't tiny moments of light and humour then. Well then I don't like it that much lol. im not saying cringey worthless one liners or even full on jokes because those are often out of place and weird, but something that's enough to make you smile or exhale through your nose, that helps you connect to the story more

[jotunkhiicha]

I like French songs. They make me very dramatic. Meet Reiytsu “Rin” Chishikiki, one of my older characters. She was created when I fell in love with Danganronpa.

Seen To Evanescent.

“Reiytsu,” a voice lulls from the depths of the abyss, beckoning her sleep-addled brain to slip further beneath the waves, further beneath the bathtub so that she might drown and die, “Reiytsu?”

Free this mind from the torture of monotony.

“Rin?” It lingers upon the cusp of her eyelids now, like a hook upon the door.

It knocks once more upon her coffin, beseeching her to open her eyes, to witness this barren world so that she may lose her fairytale and reawaken her despair. However, the voice seems so sweet, so enticing, it sounds like the personification of a white lie—harboured only in the finest delicacies so that the truth may be lost in sugary sweetness.

Could that truly be what was happening?

“Please.” The delightful voice whispers into her ear.

It’s much closer this time, these words are upon her flesh and dripping down into her muscles so that she might never forget the vibrations that come from this larynx; she wishes to seal this voice into her bones so that, when she dies, part of it goes with her into her grave.

She can taste it upon her lips, in her mouth, in her heart and seared upon every neuron ending that marks familiar pathways inside of her brain. It sets her soul alight. It ignites the dark expanse of her eyelids.

Part of her wishes to remain just enough below this level of consciousness, to hear the voice through the haze of comprehension, through the netting of her wakefulness. Another part of her wishes to seize control, to wake from her haze and embrace the world where he is sure to be.

She wonders, is it worth it?

“I confess,” the voice becomes more familiar to her, like a drink slowly revealing to her its multitude of components, “While I am undeserving of being in such close proximity to you, I delight in it.”

The sinner confesses at her temple, and only one such patron attends there.

Pulling her eyelids apart, cleaving the darkness and embracing the light that spills from the window to her bathroom and upon her face.

She had hoped he would be there, sitting on that stool he usually sits upon to keep an eye on her, but it’s just ever so slightly out of her vision.

“Nagito..?” She mutters and she calls out to him, wondering if he’s there in her cottage, just as she had dreamed he was.

The mind is the most cruel when there is something just out of reach.

Sighing, she deigns herself to believing it was all an illusion, a mirage in this scorching desert of disillusionment and the cold reality. She sinks further down the bath, resting her head upon her forearm that hangs, languidly, over the edge of this porcelain bathtub.

Then she hears that familiar creaking sound of the stool.

Perhaps dreams don’t fall far from reality at all.

Her eyes snap open wide and she gazes over to the stool to see Nagito leaning forwards, hands clasped together and his head slightly tilted so that his hair frames his face.

It’s funny.

For someone who claims to lack luck, why is it he seems to always be perfect in himself, always having the numbers and the sun shine in his favour?

He smiles at her, a genuine smile. “You’re awake.” He hums as he shuffles off of the stool and onto the drying mat in front of the bath, making him level with her head as she sits up to look upon him, “You really are perfect.”

Reiytsu turns away from him at those words, unable to bear the brunt of his unbridled adoration. “…I’m really not.”

[thewishofafairygodmother]

Chapter 5 The Hopeful and The Hopeless

Look where it brought you now. What a pity.

                You had never learned, Jacob.

                You are nothing without your guardians.

                You are a ticking time bomb.

                At some point… boom! You’ve damaged everyone you loved.

                Jacob was crying. Voices sang a nasty concert in his head. His life’s anthem blasting like a start-of-the-week ceremony.

                You have nothing interesting to say.

                Why would anyone listen to you?

                You stammer.

You’re softspoken.

You’re out of depth.

                And then, it laughed. That last part wasn’t usually in the chorus. It riveted Jacob back to reality, pulling him out of his own loop of self-depreciation. Someone was telling that to him and they weren’t just voices in his head. They weren’t memories. They weren’t learned criticisms. The voices were real, this time and it reverberated through the mansion like a haunting replica of the darkness of his mind.

                “Don’t worry, darling, it’s all real,” it teased. “The voices in your head? Those were all real, darling. You’ve always thought they were just creations of your own failing mind, but they’re not. They’re real, and you just heard them with your own two ears.”

                Jacob was bewildered. Every outerworld is different in its own right. Different people. Different races. Different themes, climates, conflicts and beliefs. The College of Godmothering doesn’t have a directory that indexes all the information about the vastness of the multiverse. Each fairy godmother is expected to easily adapt as one thing that’s more constant than change, is the ever flowing connection with nature. No matter the fauna or flora of a certain outerworld, the nature is bound to care for the fairies that grace its atmosphere, if it has any. This outerworld, Finas, is very much alike the usual habitable world; luscious greenery, animals that looked like those in textbooks, citizens who are humanoid despite having different characteristics and the evil that lurks to make it less of a utopia, and more as normal. As much as Jacob became aware of the existence of Lamang Lupas in this outerworld, he wasn’t familiar with all of its kind. Sadly, that was one danger for fairies who travel to the outerworlds. The nature can’t protect them from its own predators. They were preys to be slaughtered by the corruption that lurked within.

                “It is exceptionally delightful to see faces – frightened faces – when they hear my alluring voice. My, my, what is there to fear?” It giggled but its giggle sounded so sinister that Jacob inched closer to the wall, as if the voice had force enough to corner him even further. “Jacob,” it called. It knew his name. “You want this all to go away… right?”

                Jacob wanted it to go away.

                Slowly, the frost that had crept on the floors, on the walls and furniture were thawed. The water accumulated at the center of the room, building up to what seemed like a towering lady with an hourglass figure; no legs, just a dress made out of water draping into a puddle at her nonexistent feet. Once all the ice had congregated at the figure in the middle of the room, a being claimed its life born out of Jacob’s energy.

                “That was everything I hoped it would be,” it said and smiled, it smiled so menacingly that it gave the entity its character and identity.

                The figure traversed the room, dissolving into a puddle, and rising back up from a new position. It devoured the space and owned every single spot in the room. Jacob was trapped in his position with no barricades or barriers, just an invisible and intangible fence of fright and terror. The figure could only laugh as Jacob kept getting frozen in place, feeding her more of his power.

                Like a pathetic boy that he thought he was, Jacob ended up crying, again. Make it stop. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP! He murmured under his sobs which only made the figure cackle as it marveled at the shriveling backyard Jacob managed to revive.

                “It’s been years, Jacob, that I wished to see the world again from this view,” it said. “Maybe you weren’t such a failure after all.” The figure crept close to Jacob, ducking, and facing Jacob head on, intimidating him to look at it straight, a few inches away from his tiny little nose. “You granted me my wish, and I’m not even your godchild! You see, what more do you think you can do? You fucked up giving me life, I see no reason you could fuck up messing up your godchild turned crush!” The creature was laughing now. It echoed through the darkness like scurrying physical projectiles of malevolence. As it stopped, the creature grabbed Jacob’s hair and pulled it to its face. It started to siphon Jacob’s energy, quenching its thirst for more.

                Jacob was seemingly powerless in this situation. He closed his eyes firmly, only equipped with the hope it would stop if he prayed a little bit harder. But it didn’t, the ordeal lasted seconds, a minute, and then something burst within Jacob that took over his body. It wasn’t his ordinary, meek and normal self. This one appeared fearless, tenacious, that it looked at the creature’s blood-shot eyes and blasted its form into tiny icicles across the floor. However, as quickly as that persona rescued Jacob, it disappeared, leaving the frightened and surprised Jacob with some blood… or water on his hands. This time around, Jacob had the adrenaline to run. He didn’t look back. He was crying. He was scared. But he never looked back. What felt like several minutes of running was only a few feet from the crime scene.

                Jacob stumbled. As quickly as he was able to run, he fell on his chest. He scrambled his way to stand up but the creature had already reintegrated its original form; this instance, angrier. It dissolved itself into a puddle to crawl towards Jacob’s feet and punish him in his vulnerable position. The creature towered over him, again. Its hair fashioned from strands of water floated atop its head, whirling in its own whirlpool within. The water that made up its body cascaded in its own current that sustained its form and affect. Its black eyes were fueled with rage, and it erupted in a loud ear-piercing scream. Jacob tried to get up but the creature didn’t let him an inch farther.

                One blast.

                Two blasts.

                A couple of gallons of water pushed Jacob to the floor, freezing him in position with his own powers.

                “You imbecile!” It shrieked.

“Why are you doing this?” Jacob cried but the creature didn’t respond.

The creature crept on top of him and cupped his face, forcing his mouth open. Again, Jacob’s power was being siphoned. He could feel parts of him starting to disintegrate but he couldn’t do anything. He was frozen in mind, and he was frozen underneath his predator.

                Jacob just let it. He cried his last breaths. He was all out of options. The ordeal was seemingly long but not painful. It was just a feeling of helplessness and doom. Jacob didn’t know what will happen to him if his entire energy core is sucked out. Will it be death? Will he be reduced to nothingness? Will he be trapped within the creature’s mind? The unfamiliarity scared him, but that was a reality that he had to accept, and Jacob wasn’t so good at facing adversities head on either. He was and had always been a terrified duckling attracting danger from afar.

                Stop please, he pleaded with his mind. It was a desperate call but it was clear that the creature couldn’t hear him nor would it take pity and listen.

                Or did it?

                Because it stopped. The creature stopped, and while Jacob’s eyes were closed, he could hear the creature gasping for air. Jacob opened his eyes and saw from his blurred vision that the creature in front of him held its throat. It was freezing. There seemed to be something in its chest that was spreading in branches outwards, like an infection. Jacob couldn’t make sense of it, but it was clearly causing tremendous pain. The creature swiped one last glare and hiss at Jacob before dissolving into a small puddle and disappearing to the shadows.

                After that brush with death, Jacob’s hardened breathing was already a relief from everything. Jacob still sobbed his way out to recovery, still feeling the grasp of fear latched on his body. He tried to calm himself down, he really did, and although it didn’t seem like it, Jacob felt better the sooner his breath mellowed. Who was that creature? What was its agenda? Jacob couldn’t be more certain that it told the truth. He was a walking excuse for insidious destruction. Every uncalculated step is a misstep, and every unaccounted deed is no good deed, and even those that were, have proven to be seeds for doubt, nonetheless. Behind the cheerful façade lay a fortress rebuilt and maintained at the cost of exhausted efforts that pay off to a second-long relief. Jacob’s fear of failing wasn’t just anxiety but rather a reminder of its high sense of possibility. For several years, he trapsed around that margin, and despite being utterly prepared and desensitized of failure, one that looked straight up at his face was no less traumatizing.

                Be kind.

                Be Brave.

                Be fine.

                He ordered himself. Despite his tired body, it somehow riveted to the idea to collect himself up and survive. That had always been a case for Jacob, so he strained his feet to support himself and walk towards the bathroom. He washed his face and looked at the mirror. His reflection made him hate what he saw, but it was better than not seeing anyone around at all. Depressed, he still thought of Hassan. Where could he be by then?

                Think. Hassan. Teleporting. Godchild. Page 53119. Bottom right page. You can do this…

                Jacob mumbled, searching his mind for the right way to reach Hassan. To be a fairy godmother, fairies were taught how to always be at call by their godchildren. To make this connection more efficient, a tether could be established that instantaneously pulls them towards their godchildren when they would be in dire situations. However, that was more of a feature instigated by the godchild, not the fairy. This was to avoid unwanted apparitions that can be construed as… inappropriate. Anyhow, Jacob believed that in the given time, Hassan would no way call Jacob for help. He had to do something. Responsibility, he thought. It wasn’t hard to be responsible for one’s own life when they themselves feel undeserving of that gift. However, being responsible for another befell a huge burden upon Jacob.

                In a strained effort to operate the tether from his end, Jacob sent himself through space and time. In a series of reckless events, Jacob found himself standing atop a plateau with a gargantuan oak tree in the middle. It was surrounded by a tranquil pond ornamented with lush lotus flowers and leaves. Fireflies harbored around, illuminating the peak like a beacon in the night. The grass around were more delicate than the wind. They danced and danced under the ball orchestrated by the fireflies. The flowers that had sprouted joined the dance and so it reminded Jacob of the fae realm. The pure nature energy provided some comfort to Jacob that he even felt the wind hug him as it went.

                In that placid picture, Hassan stood convincingly brave in front of the colossal tree that brimmed with nature energies. He knelt down and seemingly started praying.

                “Hassan!” Jacob shouted. He called him but admittedly, he didn’t know what to do next. The entire night was a ramification of one decision after another. Maybe Jacob needed a pause to breathe, but it didn’t seem like he’d be allowed of that luxury.

                Hassan sprung into the air. Arms spread outward into an embrace. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but it also didn’t seem like he was in control. Jacob could only fly as fast as he could, but Hassan appeared to have already moved forward with his plan. Slowly, Hassan descended to the ground, kneeling. Jacob anticipated what would happen next as he slowed down and allowed whatever mysticism Hassan had channeled. Either way, Jacob knew he had to support him in any way he could.

Hassan summoned Hanan, the goddess of dawn, the goddess of rebirth and hope, the birthright of life, the mother of the unborn and the reborn, the triumph through the night. Hassan knelt humbly at the precipice of the divine and mortal rift. He waited to be graced by Hanan’s presence, a feat only the most devout believers could attain. His grandmother was one of those blessed individuals who were dignified with her spirit in the past, but he knew his wavering belief wasn’t enough.

                There were so many questions he had in the past but never had the mettle to dive deep into the answers. Why did the goddess not bring back the lives lost? Why couldn’t she? Was she powerless? Was she unsympathetic? The questions threaded a tapestry of travesty on his grandmother’s faith, a sin he never let his grandmother know when she was still alive. And yet, Hassan received his grandmother’s trust through the braces she left for him; two arm bands that unconditionally embraced him as it rested on his skin. These braces were made by Hanan herself, according to his grandmother. These were made to protect a warrior reborn to fight the challenges in life and allow him to live without the perils of war and bloodshed. Hanan had instructed his grandmother to give it to a boy with a heart so damaged he needed a second chance in life; to be reborn in the spirit of hope and faith. Since his grandmother’s death, Hassan had only worn the braces once, and it was enough for him to doubt its purpose more. With such power, it could do the impossibilities, so why? Why? He had always asked. But kneeling in front of the Lotus Oak, Hassan relieved himself of the skepticism, and embraced all hope for answers he should have sought many, many years ago.

                “You should name yourself fortunate, child,” an ethereal voice said. “You are her descendant.”

                Hanan… Jacob and Hassan both thought.

                Hanan was a vibrant young maiden cloaked in incandescent light. A gradient of pink and purple flowed in humble thin strips towards the hems of her dress, fading into the air to where her light faded. Her hair was silken and black that was tied up in a high pony and ornamented with a tiny golden crown with jade embellishments. Her eyes were glowing, illuminating the plateau as if it were sunrise. She was walking radiance.

“Your grandmother had bestowed you an incredible feat, child; to summon my divine powers at will, and to wield it with your heart.”

Hassan awaited the caveat.

“I am conscious of your unfaithfulness,” Hanan continued. “But that is nary a bother, brother. You have all the reasons to be.” Hanan helped Jacob up from his knees. She stood him up despite him towering her over. Hanan cupped Hassan’s face. She looked at him in awe and sympathy. “You grew up in so much loneliness… and pain. You deserve everything but that.”

Hanan prepared to heal Hassan’s pain by placing her hands on top of his chest. However, that would only resolve his pain now. The circumstances that cause it would just harbor an environment that is fertile with more suffering and solitude. After being healed, Hassan would still go home to a hollow house, quiet halls, and glaring townspeople. Hassan stopped the goddess as her palms glowed with power.

“What I need is answers, your divine mistress.”

Hanan looked at him, convinced.

“I couldn’t bring your parents back, Hassan. It was possible, but it was our volition not to and you had to pay for the consequences of that decision.”

Hassan had more questions, and Hanan had more to say.

“Your grandmother and I decided to omit the restoration, Hassan. We figured that the Yawa was somehow attached to your father’s spirit and body. We couldn’t risk him reintegrating again.”

“But what about all those people? They were innocent! They shouldn’t have died that night.”

“Death. Death is not a fault, Hassan. Everyone who dies, die innocently, victims by their own circumstance.”

“I refuse to be that cold.”

“I am not cold, Hassan.”

“Then bring them back, please,” he begged.

Hanan sighed. “Our lives… lives in its essence, are woven with the fabric of time. I don’t give life, Hassan. I can’t give back what had been gone and a life can’t be reconstructed. It can only be rewoven once again.”

“I don’t understand,” Hassan replied.

Hanan was disheartened to continue. “Sentient life is incomparable to those of trees and flowers, brother. I may have rebuilt your town, but I know its irreparable. Those who died that night are part of the canvass of time. I cannot simply bring one back. I cannot reconstruct life the way I rebuild houses and replant the trees.” Hanan was almost crying. “Life is pure elementary energy, Hassan. It’s impossible to bring them back on their own. The fabric of time would have to be patched. I could try but it would be an etching to the seamlessness of time.”

“Seamlessness? That was a mistake! That was an error—”

“—in judgment, Hassan, and I didn’t want to resolve it through another consequential one.” Hanan’s voice was firm.

“I still don’t understand.”

“All the lives at that time are intertwined with time. If I should bring one back, I ought to bring everyone back. Patching the fabric with a single thread or a couple of ones couldn’t be. I must bring all those lives back to where they were.”

“Then please do it,” Hassan begged once more. He had gone far enough in this endeavor. He wasn’t ready to go home unfulfilled.

Hanan could see the eagerness in Hassan’s eyes, which meant more heartbreak the closer he was to the truth. “I can’t,” Hanan started. “Not if the Yawa had already possessed your father’s body completely. Their existences are enmeshed, so bringing everyone back meant bringing a monster back to its glory. Hassan, we’d just bring another calamity into the world.”

[whispersofwords]

Out of Character.

Name/Alias: Amy

Timezone: PST

Age: 28

Pronouns: She/her

Activity Level: 7.5/10

Anything else?: love u

In Character.

Character Name: Ariston “Ari” Silvester

Skeleton Name: The Regret

Birthdate/Age: June 12th, 2500 BCE (i think) or 1988, 2,500 (appears 35) 

Character Gender and Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Druid

Bloodline, Pack, Coven, or Affiliation: Octavian’s line

Occupation: Owner of the Waffle House (I feel like he’s unhinged enough and it would be pouring salt in Andreas wounds)

Face-claim: Robert Sheehan 

Trigger Warnings: Please list all trigger warnings in your biography here.

History.

Ariston was born in the ordinary way, the beep of hospital machines brought him into this world and it was a cloudy day -- he had ten toes and ten fingers and was born to two druids who had always revered the First. He had shown power even on the first day when his cry of life began and the rain poured from the clouds overhead, the world responded to his whims and his parents smiled as they gazed down on their sleeping babe as they knew he would be destined for great things.

He grew and began to discover the world around him at age of eight, he would never go inside despite how his mother called because he was a wild thing and belonged to the Forest. He spent his childhood days with the company of wildlife that surrounded the woods where he grew up. Afternoons spent on his belly watching as the fish swam in the pond, going in circles, he would dip his finger in and they would nibble. With the summer heat, he was quick to join them in the water never shy around their company and as he dipped his head underwater, he did not emerge as human but instead joined the fish in their school that day as he splashed and swam among the seaweed in the depths.

His parents were elated that day as they believed him to have an affinity for water but the next week -- something miraculous happened, the deer came to visit the woods as they did on their regular routine and he fed them from his palm, and when they began their run through the trees, he was among them in their form and he danced freely over the roots of the great trees. By evening, he was howling with the wolves during their call to the moon. His training had began early, they had taught him combat but his change to animal form came with a certain unexpected grace for such a gangly young man. 

When he arrived back at the house, they had great plans for him -- he was to lead the next generation and fear moved into his throat and instead of the fight method, he choose flight. With great eagle wings, he soared high above all of the worlds expectations and felt how Icarus did with the desire to touch the sun. His mother was a Keeper and she had a knowing look in her eye when she smiled at him and he could never just have her as a Mom -- there was always expectations to be great and to be the savior they needed.

The memory ceremony finally came and Ari had never felt his heart want to escape its cage so much. Druids from all around the world had gathered and waited to see the memories of the Archdruid return to him and it is was with disappointment that he met them. He wasn’t an archdruid, he wasn’t anything special and he was quickly forgotten.

Disposed of and shoved in the corner because he didn’t have a predestined fate, something broke within him and he became what they made him -- a reject, an outsider of society because he didn’t fit the way that they wanted him too. Despite all the pain he had incurred from being such a disappointment, he couldn’t abandoned the Earth and its creatures that had loved him so. The Archdruids returned and half had been a Chimera at one point. Nettelia was responsible for the creation of the Necronomicon, having slain fey, druids and witches in its creation and creating a bridge between this realm and the dark magic of the Otherworld outer worlds. Octavian carried madness and had almost toppled Rome in his destructive fire. Aren slept through most of the world and walked around as if he was sleepwalking. Dionaeia did not care for the world and would rather it burn. These were the great archdruids that the druids had waited so long for? He thought they weren’t shit. He didn’t know if he could do better but he believed they deserved a kinder future and he would never admit to giving a damn but he wouldn’t be disposed of so easily again.

Personality.

Adaptable, wild, eccentric

Insecure, stubborn, emotionally-stunted

Extras.

love u

[sweeetestcurse]

TO SURVIVE - CHAPTER 3

Warnings: (very light) body horror (there’s a zombie in this zombie apocalypse AU) Characters: Deputy Jodie Perkins, Jerome Jefferies, Sharky Boshaw, Hurk Drubman Jr. Tags: Pining, slice of life (I promise things pick up just let me prep things for a lil bit)

Summery:

On a hunch that isn't even her own, Jodie sets out to John's bunker.

Preview under the cut:

Soft-looking dirt blanketed most of the concrete floor inside the wide-open building. All of it had been disturbed. By footprints of various sizes and the wide sweep from the door itself. Even after seeing all of that, a nagging part of her mind still expected to hear the dull thunk of a lock catching when she gave the thick handle a twist.

The sharp click that rang out was quite a surprise.

Her stomach nearly dropped clean through her. She hadn’t expected to come this far.

“Perkins to Falls End,” she said, all but gaping at the cracked open door. “Come in, Falls End.”

Before she got an answer, she clipped the radio back into place and gave the solid door a hard pull. It swung outward freely, easily, on well-oiled and tended-to hinges. The Peggies inside had been taking care of the thing. As much as they were able, anyway.

With another, softer, click, the beam of her flashlight cut through the haze that lay within, showing all the dirt and dust she had kicked up by simply being there.

“We’re reading you loud and clear, Jo-Jo. What’s your ‘sitch?”

The signal was growing weak with distance but even then, she could hear Hurk well enough to know he was smiling back in Falls End. Hell, he probably insisted on being the one to wait for her call.

“I made it to the bunker. The front door’s unlocked. Don’t tell Sharky, but I think that quiet hoard of his might actually exist.”

“Shit, well—” Hurk began before a second voice cut him off.

“Gimme that,” for a second, Sharky was further away. But he gained distance fast.

Their gathered voices were pocked with pops and caressed by static.

When he spoke up again, it cleared up. “Say that again,” he begged. “Tell me I was right. I need to hear you say it.”

She smiled, in the dark, nearly laughing at the strain in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to encourage him, she obliged. “You were probably right. How’s it feel?”

“Oh,” his voice went breathy, trembling lightly. Whether it was from laughter or something else entirely, she couldn’t tell. “Oh, it feels so good.”

A small titter of laughter slipped out of her. And echoed down into the depths, instantly filling her with something oh-so-close to dread tugged the corners of her mouth into a small frown.

“Well, I’ll leave you to… whatever it is that you’re doing.”

The teasing in his voice was gone in a flash. “Wait. Hold up. Are you heading in that bunker? Alone?”

[pupil-of-law]

Something deep in Dorian’s chest instantly fluttered at the earl’s question. Though he managed expertly not to blanche, or blush, or even move, a sudden terror gripped him that his worst secret - the very event against which he had a duty to guard most fiercely, for the sake of Basil as well as himself - was about to be spoken aloud. It didn’t dissolve. Lord Cavendish gave nothing away. Didn’t smile as if it were only a joke, nor take on the look of someone delivering some sort of political or social threat. Dorian could only stare back at him, their eyes inextricably connected. But then, at last, he registered Cavendish’s closing remark, and his stammering heartbeat mercifully began to recede as he saw the smile steal up over Cavendish’s face. The tales that surrounded the earl, as if he were a character from a series of scandalous novels, came to Dorian’s mind, and he felt a little out of depth. To distance himself - at least until he could discuss the matter with Basil - he responded first to being prematurely familiarised as a ‘boy’.

‘You may call me Mr. Gray. Since we haven’t been formally introduced.’

Not quite knowing what to do now that he had sidestepped disaster, but knowing that he certainly did not want to return to the party pressing in about this little sanctuary, he looked away to the rain-lashed windowpane, the line of dripping lilac trees along the dark street outside. Since Lord Cavendish didn’t seem interested in talking to him, and Henry and Basil had expressly told him that they weren’t either, he simply took a seat cautiously in the only other chair in the room. It had a lesser advantage to the fire, being stationed slightly off to the side out of its glow, and Dorian relaxed into it as much as he could; his body uneasily draped in a posture of abandonment, as if falling. His eyes became a little clouded, and his hair shone faintly in the light of a nearby lampshade fringed with ugly pompoms. A while passed in gentle silence, in which he mostly sat perfectly still, casting his eyes furtively across at the earl as he read his letters. Soon he relaxed enough to swallow, to let his tongue flicker out to wet his lips, and to murmur: ‘I should go. I have almost ruined Basil’s party by being rude for no reason, by snubbing those girls simply because I was bored of talking about them. Of talking to everyone else. Or being looked at by them - I don’t know. All of it. And yet I know the only reason they sent me away was because it makes me look unseemly to be so ill-tempered. If it were picturesque they would have laughed and encouraged even worse incivility. What a vain thing to say…’ he shook his head. ‘What a horrid night.’

Having shaken his pursuer off, he assumed - for the footfall had died away and he no longer felt watched - Dorian went about as if nothing had happened, yet always half expecting to see the mysterious Earl around a corner or when entering a room. He never did see Cavendish, though, and the night descended, as all Basil’s parties did, into a stultifying boredom. Lord Henry had brusquely extricated him from an altercation with a footman whom he had snapped at, and now he found himself back in Basil and Henry’s attentive care in the drawing room, being offered canapés and alcohol.

Now, as he agitatedly dispensed his disparagements of every painting in the National Gallery, Basil stood next to a furiously relaxed Dorian, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and slipping the other into his pocket to stand contrapposto against a pillar. Dorian rubbed languidly at his eye as he heard Lord Arnheim entreating Basil to paint his daughters; two vastly wealthy girls with pinniped eyes and necks who had stalked him like a hunting party through the Music room earlier. ‘I do agree, one must capture that prettiness of youth before it turns to something more sinister. Indeed, they’re already starting to turn heads at the Hurlingham club. Don’t you go near them, Mr. Gray!’ Dorian, whose patience was wearing very thin, now lifted his eyes to fix on the man, whose joke had left him cold, and replied by pure impulse: ‘I never even faintly considered it.’

Basil turned rubicund. ‘You have now gone too far, Dorian,’ he said, ‘I think you’d better go away somewhere.’

‘I must agree, Dorian,’ said Lord Henry. ‘Since you have set yourself at variance with the will of every man and woman here, whose desire is to pass a peaceable evening in light-hearted merriment, I think you had better. Away, you soulless boy.’

Dorian responded with nothing but an almost imperceptible glower which Basil inevitably and instantly perceived. (Of all the people here who had spent their share of time gazing at it, Basil was still the most familiar with Dorian’s face.)

Lingering only for a refill of champagne, Dorian bowed his head and strode out of the room and into a small vestibule where he caught sight of a fire crackling in a small salon and a single occupant reclined in a chair before it. Passing over the threshold, he caught sight of the face that had eluded him all night. Sitting quite alone, Lord Cavendish turned to show a well-bred, expressionless face. He had the appearance of one who is clever, but would not like to be thought so for strategic reasons. Who may be excellent company, but prefers to appear a miser, perhaps because being distrusted and ignored affords him a post of vantage. What Dorian found most striking was that he met Dorian’s eye only for a moment, and hardly wasted a second in looking away. This might have seemed perfectly innocuous to anyone else at the party. It did not to Dorian. He crossed to stand before the fire, and placed his glass carefully on the lintel so as not to disturb the earl’s letter reading.

‘You were following me,’ he said softly, ‘before. I know you were.’ A moment of silence passed. Dorian was again surprised by the stranger’s indifference to talking with him. There were a dozen girls in the next room who had deafened him with talking over one another to garner his attention. ‘Sir, I asked you something,’ he prompted calmly.