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frost-queen · 1 year

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Burst like a glass balloon (Sis!Reader x Bridgerton brothers)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernameis, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @freyathehuntress

Summary: Reader is the youngest of Bridgerton's. Your governess has a very abusive way towards you, gaslighting you into remaining quiet. One day your three brothers find out asking you why you didn't tell them, thinking they wouldn't believe you and you secretly deserved it.

“Again!” – your governess snapped, letting her wooden pointing stick slam against your desk. It started you, making you sniff loudly. – “And don’t make me see any tears!” – she made clear bending down inspecting your cheeks. You quickly wiped them dry. You moved your book closer to you, starting repeating the list of flowers by their Latin names. – “Abelia…Abutilon… Acacia…” – you said between sniffs as not a moment ago you had busted out in tears.

“Pronunciation miss Bridgerton!” – the governess made clear. She said it during your speech, making you stutter out the word. Her wooden stick coming down hard again. – “A lady does not stutter miss Bridgerton. Should I fetch you the bottle for only baby’s babble as much as you do!” – Her words carving deep into your heart. – “Perhaps I should start the basics with you all over again? How to walk, talk, sit, and eat properly for a lady. Is that what you require miss Bridgerton? Teaching for the simple minded?” – she asked with mockery.

“No…” – you answered softly. She pressed her hand down on your book, coming intimidatingly close to your face. – “Then do better!” – her voice as sharp as a knife. – “From the top.” – she insisted letting the wooden stick fall in her palm. – “But…” – you said. Big mistake. Her stick came down hard on your knuckles. You squeaked in pain untensing your fingers. – “I said again!”

You curled your fingers up to your palm, moving them down to your lap. Grabbing onto your dress tightly trying to forget the pain. – “Abelia… Abutilon…Acacia…” – you started over. Your governess nodding content as with each word her stick fell into her palm. You made sure to not falter as the slightest bit of hesitation awoke the feral beast inside of her. Her eyes would narrow coldly, her mouth pulled up to a hiss ready to spew out her personage of you.

Finishing the list of Latin flowers you felt out of breath. Mouth dry from speaking the long list that endured for hours. You turned around slowly in your seat, head down. – “Did I do good Governess?” – you asked nervously. She inhaled sharply through her nose. – “No.” – she casually expressed, making your eyes widen. – “Five whips to the knee.” – she informed you, approaching. You held your hands on your lap, already clenching onto your dress for the first impact.

The first whack made you press your lips together. Head turning away to not make a sound. The second made your body flinch, a soft yelp escaping your lips. The third one was brutal as it made your upper body shot forwards out of breath. The fourth numbed your knees with a tingling. Biting on the inside of your cheek to not make a sound. The fifth touch drew blood.

Hands trembled on your lap as your Governess laid some lost strays of hair back in place. – “Now Miss Bridgerton.” – she spoke lifting your chin up with her stick. – “Not a word to my family.” – you told her with tears in your eyes. – “Exactly.” – she warmed up a smile. A smile that never could warm your heart. – “What will they say when they find out how improper your behavior is during my lessons. How incompetent you are.” – she straightened her posture. – “I understand…” – you answered, blinking rapidly. – “I’ll never be like you.” – the words coming out so truly you started to believe them.

“Indeed miss Bridgerton. You never will be. Not every lady can accomplish many things.” – she spoke lowering her stick on you. She turned around, collecting her supplies. – “I’ll see you next time tomorrow.” – she clicked her suitcase shut, dragging it off your bed. You watched her leave before letting yourself slide down your chair onto the ground. Biting in your arm to deafen out your screams of pain. Body shuddering from the sharp pain rushing through you. Wiping your eyes dry, you carefully got up.

Knees trembling as they could barely hold you up. Stumbling over to the bowl filled with water by your vanity. Falling down in your seat, you slowly pulled up your dress. Revealing your knees. Still red and blue from previous punishments. The skin rough as some blood had made a way down your leg. A thin line of evidence. Sniffing loudly, you moved your hand through the water, wiping it up your leg afterwards. Water drippled when your hand got out again. The clear water slowly changing into color. You continued to clean your knees as if there never had been blood.

Face contracting when it pricked. You then held your hands in the water as it eased your muscles a bit. It was almost a routine after your lessons. Clean up to get rid of any evidence of harm. After all you needed to stay quiet. You didn’t want your family to know how not good enough you were. Your sisters surely never had such difficulties. Perhaps they were better suited to be a proper lady then you.

The thought of marrying a poor man crossing your mind. It was after all what your governess said. That you should be lucky to have such an average face for you would never taste the luxuries of a title. Not one deserving off. Letting your dress fall back over your knees, you took a deep breath. Taking the bowl of water, you moved over to your window. Pushing it open as you came sitting on the edge for a second.

Looking down at the ground beneath you. Quickly you emptied the water as it fell into the grass. A sudden knock at your door made you jump out of your skin. Quickly close the window once more, setting the bowl aside. A maid entered. – “Miss Bridgerton, diner is served.” – she told you. You nodded at her, following her downstairs.

You encountered Hyacinth and Gregory chatting loudly and happily over to the diner table. Anthony sitting down as a maid pulled his chair closer. Colin and Benedict already deep in a conversation. You came sitting down near Anthony. Eloise rushing in to join mama’s side. Francesca taking her seat beside you. Anthony smiled upon your arrival. – “How have your lessons been, Y/n?” – he asked laying a napkin on his lap. – “Productive…” – you answered, fumbling with your fingers nervously under the table.

“Has she taught you already French? I’d say I struggled a bit with it.” – Francesca said with a snort. You quietly shook your head. – “Not yet…” – you whispered. – “Y/n is still young.” – Anthony made clear to his sister. – “She will learn French soon enough and when she does, she will thrive at it.” – He turned his head to you with a warm smile. You couldn’t help yourself, but smile saddened back at him. Oh how high value he had of you. The first course arrived making you swallow nervously. Looking around carefully at everyone and how occupied they were.

You gently moved your hand above the table, picking up your spoon. About to put the spoon in your mouth, commented your brother Benedict on your hands. – “Y/n, did you hurt yourself? Your hands are red and scraped.” – his comment made you drop your spoon, hiding your hand underneath the table again. – “Let me see!” – Anthony insisted grabbing for your hand underneath the table.

You fought with every might to not let him see it, but your brother’s grip was stronger. He revealed your hand above the table, forming an opinion for himself. Letting his fingers brush gently under your knuckles. – “Did you fall in the garden?” – he asked worriedly. Pressing your lips together you remained silent. – “Y/n hasn’t been out in the garden all day.” – Colin pointed out. – “Truly?” – Benedict spoke on it with furrowed brows. – “Y/n how did you require it then?” – Benedict turned to you, barely touching his soup.

“The skin is rough… flesh scraped… this doesn’t seem like a first wound.” – Anthony said out loud, thinking as he carefully held your hand. You pulled your hand out of his, moving it down. Your little action made your brothers wary. – “Y/n tell us where you hurt yourself. If it happened numerous times we must do something about it.” – Colin made clear pointing with his spoon at you. – “Is it from a sharp edge from your nightstand? A certain type of fabric that is rough?” – Anthony suggested concerningly.

You couldn’t tell them, not even a bit. It was all getting too much for you. Making you push your chair back and take a run for it. Anthony threw his napkin on the table, getting up as well. – “Where… where is everyone going?” – Violet asked seeing her sons get up. – “A moment mama.” – Colin said with a bow before following his brothers. – “Y/n!” – Anthony shouted loud going in pursuit.

There was an attempt to escape them, unfortunately you failed miserably. Benedict grabbing you quickly by the shoulder. – “No!” – you called out, swaying your arms around to break free. – “Y/n what is the matter? We are simply concerned about you.” – Colin made clear trying to calm you. – “Let me go!” – you stomped firmly on your brother’s toes making him call it out in pain. His grip on you released, yet you stumbled to the ground.

The burn on your knees from hitting the floor made you flinch. Slowly you turned around to come and sit down, hands beside you. A part of your dress upwards making Anthony’s eyes widen. – “What is this!” – he called out, dropping to his knees as he pulled your dress up to reveal your knees. Benedict and Colin gasping in terror. Anthony’s jaw tensed. – “Y/n this isn’t from simply falling. What happened!” – he outed loudly seeing your bruised knees. Black and blue as the bruises barely had proper time to heal. Still you remained silent, looking away.

“The truth!” – Anthony shouted, moving his hands forwards to grab you. When he saw you flinch, he stopped, staring with wide eyes at you. Benedict lowering him beside Anthony. – “Y/n. Is someone hurting you?” – you couldn’t hold it anymore when Benedict asked it. Tears streaming down your face. Sobbing loudly and almost out of breath. – “Y/n who!” – Anthony demanded to know as Colin came kneeling beside you, pulling you close against his chest.

You shook your head not wanting to tell them. – “Y/n please I beg of you.” – Anthony spoke nearly sobbing himself from seeing his little sister in so much pain. That someone was hurting you. – “My governess…” – you cried out finally speaking about it. Benedict and Anthony shared a brief glance. “Why didn’t you tell us?” – Colin spoke stroking your back. – “Because… you wouldn’t have believed me… and besides…I…I deserve it.” – you outed wiping some tears away. – “No!” – Anthony said loudly, placing his hands on top of your knees.

“You did not deserve it. Not one bit of it. Your governess was wrong to treat you like this and she will not be forgiven for it.” – he added as Colin placed a kiss down your head. – “That is no way to treat any person… you didn’t deserve it Y/n, you certainly didn’t.” – Colin told you. Benedict took your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it. – “She won’t harm you anymore Y/n. We’ll make sure of it.” – Your brothers helped you up to your feet, group hugging you so tightly you felt the warmth of their heart. – “You are worthy Y/n. You are enough.”

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bugaboo25 · 9 months

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I Will Forever Love You Chapter 2

Okay, I'm gonna do it! There's more info on the masterpost about how this is gonna look, but I am gonna post the rest of this! Just bear with me if there's a lot of time between updates!

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Anways, onto chapter 2:

Danny groaned as he flung himself onto the table. Which, ew, the Nasty Burger employees obviously hadn’t taken the time to wipe down the table in days, as was told by the way his hoodie was sticking to a dark stain that sat next to him. He could feel Tucker shifting next to him, obviously wanting to ask, but Danny wanted to wallow in his own self pity for just a few more moments, thank you very much. Alas, he was promptly pulled away from his thoughts as Tucker nudged his side with his elbow. Danny turned his head, allowing his eyes to scan over Tucker quickly and efficiently. He was taller now, taller than Danny’s own 5’9”, and his beret had been discarded for a beanie that allowed his new dreadlocks to cascade down over his neck. His eyes told of his desire to speak, so the 16-year-old pulled himself into a seated position.

“So,” Tucker began, his eyes shifting to ensure there were no ears on them. “What did CW want?” Ah, so that was the reason that Tucker drew Danny from his pits of despair. He was going to tell his friends; he just wanted a minute to wrap his head around the news before letting them know. Danny’s eyes drifted over to Sam, and the goth’s raised brow and clenched jaw told of her concern, even though she was trying to seem appropriately interested and not overbearing like she had in the past. He allowed himself a second to appreciate her half-shaved head once again, thinking back to the way Pamela had screeched just two days ago when he dropped Sam off at home after a devilishly fun evening at the mall.

Danny groaned once again, double checking the restaurant for prying ears before hunching forward and speaking in a hushed tone. “I’m apparently gonna be crowned Ghost King once I turn eighteen.” Danny had to stifle a grin at the loud gurgling noises that came from his friends, the memory of him making a similar noise when he first met Jazz playing in his mind’s eye.

“Danny what-“

“When did you-“

“Guys, guys, quiet down, people are staring!” Danny bit out, though his words held no venom. He knew they hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, and he also knew they wouldn’t be on the lookout for any attention they might gain. They had no League training, and Danny never wanted them to. He couldn’t keep them out of his life as Phantom, but he would never stoop so low as to introduce them to the world of al Ghul’s. He couldn’t, not when the only one in that damn place that ever cared about him was… Instead of lingering on that thought, Danny allowed himself to take on an easy smile as he continued forward. “It’s not a big deal. CW said I’ll have to go the Realms like, once every week or two after the coronation is over with.” Sam and Tucker noticeably loosened as the knowledge that their third wasn’t going to be disappearing into the Infinite Realms forever.

The trio’s order number was called from the front of the room, and Sam slid out of the booth to go and grab it. When she got back, she handed out their food, and Danny stared down at his vegetarian sandwich. He had decided to make the switch a few months ago, his dreams plaguing him with ghost animals coming back for their vengeance. He had tried to ignore them, but the second that Vlad had sent a ghost cow his way, his desire to eat meat had disappeared. Sam had cheered when he told them of his decision. Tucker had just huffed in annoyance and refused to eat lunch with them for two days.

“Dude,” Tucker whispered as he leaned into Danny’s side. “Breathe.” And suddenly Danny was inhaling an ungodly amount of oxygen as he realized he had been staring at his food, unbreathing, for the past five minutes. He would never admit it to anyone, but he often forgot, his body no longer required him to breathe more than once every hour. In fact, he still remembered the time Jazz had woken him up in the middle of the night due to his lack of breathing and the fact that his heart had only pumped once in 15 minutes. She had been crying when his eyes flew open, and they had had an hour-long discussion about how important it was to at least act like he was inhaling oxygen when around others. Still, he had to kick the thought about how the lack of breathing would make him even more hard to notice sneaking up on someone to dispose of them out of his mind multiple times.

Honestly, with how often he failed at the task, it was a surprise Jack and Maddie hadn’t noticed. Though, it shouldn’t be, considering they hardly ever paid attention to the presence of their children. Danny ate his sandwich and enjoyed the comfortable silence that sat between the three friends, his hair cascading into his line of vision. Danny wanted to cut it, but the fact of the matter was, the more effort he put into being a greasy, grimy gremlin, the less likely the League was to find him out. He checked his phone, and, seeing that it was nearing 6:30, the time Jazz was set to get home for her trip back to Amity, said his goodbyes for the night to Sam and Tuck. His eyes slid over the window, and for one heart stopping second, he thought it was Damian with the way the lights reflected green in his eyes. But then his eyes caught sight of the scar on his left temple, and the illusion was broken. He huffed to himself, then willed his shoulders to relax. God, how he missed his brother.

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Jazz pulled up to the Fenton household with a sigh on her lips. She hated being in the same house as her parents, but she hated leaving Danny alone even more. He had practically pushed her out the door the day she moved to Gotham for college, but she knew he hadn’t wanted her to put her life on hold for him. Still, she wished that she had the money to be able to take guardianship of her brother until he turned 18. If their parents ever found out about him… well, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight, that was sure. She may have thought they would understand after she first found out, but it had been so long, and their hatred for Phantom had only grown in the last two years…

Jazz clapped her hands together. No point in worrying about what could happen, Danny had set so many backup plans in place that she had had to spend an entire 48 hours memorizing them. She just needed to focus on her main goal: get Danny to talk about his life before the Fenton’s. He had kept everything to himself for the past seven years, but this time, his Gotcha Day would be spent healing from past trauma – she hoped. Frankly, she would be lucky if Danny said two words about his past, he hadn’t said since the day she had convinced her parents to adopt.

Jazz pulled down the sun visor and slid open the mirror, schooling her expression into one of pure will. “You can do this, Jasmine Fenton. You’ve spent the last two months in Gotham University studying psychology, and some 16-year-old boy will not-“

“Whatcha doin’?” Jazz’s pep talk was interrupted as she let out a totally normal, definitely cool and collected, screech. Danny started cackling, his torso sticking out of the floor of Jazz’s car.

“Danny! You can’t just pop into existence right in front of people who are having a private moment!” Jazz was chastising him, but Danny couldn’t help the giggles that continued to escape his mouth. Jazz huffed, threw open her car door, grabbed her bags, and started marching toward the front door. Danny was trailing behind her, but she didn’t care. She had forgotten just how unnerving it was when Danny appeared out of thin air, having empty space and then without warning he was just there. It reminded her of when he had first been adopted, of how he would suddenly appear and then disappear without so much as breathing loud enough to be heard. It was different now, though, as he no longer needed to put effort into softening the sounds escaping her body. Not for the first time, Jazz let herself wonder what type of homelife Danny had had before appearing in Amity.

She had only been able to come up with one plausible theory, and that was that Danny’s parents had been incredibly abusive. He must have had to learn to be as quiet as a mouse to remain out of his parents’ fighting, protecting himself from the vile side of humanity before he should have known how horrible people could be. That kind of history would be exactly the type to make someone refuse to speak about their childhood, so Jazz had allowed Danny to remain silent when it came to her questions. He didn’t have to give any answers he wasn’t prepared to, not until the traumatic memories started to cause real damage to his psyche. She was drawn out of her musings by Danny jabbing her side with his pointer finger, and when she turned a disapproving stare at him, he began rubbing the back of his neck.

“What’s up?” At the question, Danny’s hand dropped down so he could cross his arms over the ghost symbol on his hoodie. Honestly, Jazz wasn’t sure his coping mechanisms of ‘joke about my own death while simultaneously ignoring the fact that I died’ were completely healthy, but the clothing articles seemed to help keep him out of a depressive state, so she wouldn’t say anything.

“I was just saying that Mom and Dad were all hyped up this morning about something, so be prepared for anything.” Danny’s eyes took on that shine they usually did when he was talking about their parents, but she had never been able to place it. It was a mix between fondness and disdain, and what that meant for the adults in their life, she’d rather not know.

“Don’t worry little brother, I’m always prepared when it comes to Mom and Dad.” Jazz started opening the door, and then promptly froze in place as she saw the two adults running around the house like their lives depended on it.

“Don’t forget to grab the Peeler, dear! We need to make sure we take as much as we possibly can!” Mom was yelling at Dad as he descended the stairs to the lab, and a booming “Okay!” reverberated off the metal walls of the stairwell.

“Mom?” Jazz stepped forward hesitantly, not quite prepared for the sight of bags full of clothes and machinery alike. “What’s going on?”

“Jazz! It’s so lovely to see you! But why are you here? Didn’t we tell you we’re going to Gotham?” Mom looked at Jazz with a quizzical look, and finding anything remotely resembling care in the purple-tinted blue eyes was almost impossible. Jazz had to once again start the mantra of “they love us, it’s just… hard to see” in her own mind.

“No, you didn’t tell me you’re going to Gotham. Tomorrow is Danny’s Gotcha Day! I’ve been planning on coming back for months!” Jazz was tempted to let herself lose her temper, but she knew that it wouldn’t lead to anything productive. Instead, she settled for looking for any recognition of the one day that they got to celebrate Danny, since he claimed to not know when his birthday was.

“Danny’s Gotcha Day? That can’t be, that’s not until October 13th, right? It can’t be October already.” Mom was speaking as if she was stating a fact, but there was a slight frown on her lips as she checked the date on her phone. Jazz let her eyes shift over to Danny’s form, but he looked almost bored of the conversation. “Oh dear!” Mom was talking again, and Jazz decided that if Danny was okay, then she would be, too. “I’m sorry sweetie, we must have lost track of time down in the lab. You know how it is.” Mom’s voice was almost caring. “We were gonna tell you tonight, as a surprise! We’re going to Gotham for a week, Dad and I have a convention coming up that we just absolutely can’t miss. We’re leaving tomorrow, so go pack your bags!”

“Okay, thanks.” Danny shot off up the stairs, and Jazz followed after him. She needed to make sure he actually was okay; their mom had just admitted to forgetting about his stand-in birthday. Jazz knocked lightly on his bedroom door before slowly pushing it open.

“Are you okay?” Jazz sat down on Danny’s bed, shoving the bunched-up comforter out of her way while nudging a pair of jeans sprawled on the floor. She looked towards her brother and took in his appearance. His messy hair was hanging in his face, and his 5’9” stature was hunched over as he shoveled clothes into a duffle bag. He was throwing items like his chargers, toothbrush, and laptop into his backpack, and she hoped that he would try to do the online assignments that were sure to be filling his email by now.

“Yeah?” Danny sent her a puzzled look, and not for the first time did she realize that Danny obviously didn’t know what it meant to be a priority to your parents. Jazz’s brow furrowed, but she saw the way Danny was pulling into himself, so she settled for subtlety.

Jazz stood from the bed and gave Danny a long hug. “I’ll be in my room if you want to talk.” Then she was closing the door to Danny’s room and slipping into her own, the one she had lived in for 18 years, and the feelings of loneliness that hadn’t plagued her in two months crept back under her skin.

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Danny continued to shuffle items into their respectful bags, no longer caring if they were messy. Well, that’s not to say he didn’t care, it just didn’t bother him as much as it did when he first decided to take on the persona of a slobby teen. All details would be taken into account when it came to the League. Once he finished zipping up the duffel, he turned to his backpack. He crossed his legs, and for the first time in months, he allowed himself to remember. He thought of green eyes, of heartbroken screams and explosions, and he thought of a presence by his side, watching every blind spot he would ever have. Danny clenched his fists, as he remembered the day just over a year ago. He had just confirmed that his powers were fully under his control, and as soon as he had been alone, he had zipped away. He had gone invisible and intangible long before he reached Nanda Parbat, not daring to risk being seen. He had flown around the entirety of the League’s base, searching for Damian. Alas, even his quarters had been cleared. Danny left, knowing his brother was no longer there, either dead or escaped. He was determined to find out which.

Danny’s eyes opened, and he stuck his hand into the floorboard beneath his bed. He pulled out the wakizashi, eyes tracing every detail. He didn’t need to take the time to memorize it, as it was as familiar to him as it had ever been. For a brief moment, he considered taking it with him; but there was no way he would find Damian in Gotham of all places. Jazz would have noticed his lookalike by now. Besides, Danny didn’t believe in chance.

He slid the wakizashi into his bag anyway.

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afra-blueraz · 5 months

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Happy Blog Anniversary

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳. I drew a tiny doodle because I'm already busy enough and didn't have enough time for a new artwork. I made my anniversary post as an appreciation post to my friends.

It's been a year since I create this blog and officially joined the fandom. Of course, I have been familiar with the fandom for more than a year, but one year ago on this day, I decided to create this blog and officially work in the fandom. Time really flies. I can't believe it's been a year. In this one year, many good and bad things happened to me in this fandom. I met many people and got to know different people. With all the good and bad things and with all the kind and mean people, this has been a wonderful year and I am so happy to celebrate this day with my friends.

@its-irsaa-fyp : My dear Irsa. My best friend and my life. I can't say how happy I am to meet you. I will never forget the day when I saw your comment that you said that Rukiyui is your favorite ship and it made me jump to your DM and chat with you. That day I realized how much we have similar opinions and interests. I will never forget that you always supported me when some people made me sad. And I will never forget how you made me not leave this fandom and love it more and more. And also how much we both admire Yui and she is our queen. I am happy that I met you and it was the best thing in my life. I love you 💘🥺❤️.

Admin Ava: Ava, my dear friend. I love you very much Thank you for always supporting me and supporting me in making a blog for DL fandom. You are so kind and I will never forget your love and support. I love you my dear friend 💘🥰.

Semra: Dear Semra, even though you left the fandom, I will never forget your support and kindness. I had the best role-play with your lovely OC. Yuu will forever remain in my heart and she will forever be Yui's best friend. The memories of you and your OC will always remain in my heart.

@shuyui-nether : My dear cousin and my dear sister. I'm sorry that I dragged you to diahell 😅. In real life you are the closest person to me and I am happy that you are with me in this fandom. I love you.

@seaoflove07 : Dear Christine, you were one of the first people who supported me and my blogs. You are very kind and I can't say how much I appreciate that whenever I was not feeling well, I talked to you and you gave me peace 😭🥺. I love you very much and I hope this friendship will grow.

@callmeklair: Well, I must say that wherever there is a Yui stan, that person will become my best friend 🤭😅. I don't know how this friendship started. I just remember that we talked and became best friends. Maybe Yui affects us so much that she makes us like each other quickly. I am very happy that I met you and we made a small friendship group with you and our friends 🥰💘. I hope this friendship will last forever.

@diabolik-art-blog : Moni, my energetic and funny girl. Thank you very much for always making me laugh and making me feel happy even in the worst situations. I admire your immense energy and your creativity in creating new stories. You make our friendship group happier and full of laughter, and I am very happy to have an energetic and kind friend like you 😘🥰💘.

@uusercatt367 : Well, here is one of my favorite artists. And as I said, wherever I see a Yui stan, that person is my friend. I also love your OCs and I admire your love for Yui. I hope we interact more and more in future 🥰💘.

Honorable mentions: @gagad @yuukanaazu @diakaoni @midnight-glasses @hoshikoyuuki @rukiyui-fanblog @nowothingistired @yuiistan @kashifah @hellcatinnc @anin13 @dialovers-lover-xoxo : Thank you all for your support. I hope we will interact more in the coming years.

#1 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone #admin talks #admin afra #admin afra talks #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fandom

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yourantag · 1 year

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Of Vices and Virtues (Morningstar!Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: In which I go insane and finally succumb to the urge to write an unhealthy relationship instead of a nice, safe, and sane one. Also, to the people who were waiting for this fic, I am so sorry for the wait. I kept on forgetting it existed and also kept doubting myself since this is pretty different from what I usually do. Hope you enjoy it, even if it isn't the best! Word count: 2.7k words TW: Blood, violence, general insanity, and unhealthy relationships. Summary: You've always seen things others couldn't. When you met him, you were enamored by his unique nature. Perhaps you should have taken it as a warning. Perhaps, you should have ran. Instead, you drew closer.

It all started years ago when things were simpler. You were a child, and so was he. He was someone who bore the face of the future king, the Lord of Babel, the sun of the kingdom. You? You were just a simple peasant. No one noteworthy, not in appearance, personality, or skill. How could you be? You were a child.

Yet, when your paths crossed, it immediately changed you two. Your futures, your destinies which never should have merged, crashed together. The moment your eyes met his, it was over. You could never be normal again. After all, how could a mortal stay sane in the presence of a God?

He was your beginning, and surely he would be your end.

The lady who lived in the forest was odd, but kind. She would give you and your family medicine, never asking for anything in return. You didn't think that was very fair, so you gave her flowers. The prettiest ones you could find in the wild, hidden within the crevices of gnarled roots and heavy bushes.

You liked her quite well, which your parents found surprising. You never seemed to like most adults. They all brushed it off as shyness, laughing heartily as you scampered away.

It wasn't quite that, though.

The way you gazed at people with distrust was never on unfounded grounds. Children, for however random and silly adults believe them to be, are far too perceptive for their own goods.

You've always seen things others couldn't see. You knew not to tell, especially when the curling shadows at those peoples feet hissed and snarled silently. It was a warning, seething quietly around the liars with masks. You learned quickly that they were not people to be trusted.

The problem was, most adults held such secrets with them. Their perfect disguises of the kind neighbor and good samaritan were nothing before your eyes. Their performances of being righteous and pure sickened you. It churned your guts and set alight a blaze of fury inside you that you didn't understand.

You couldn't stand it, so you chose to run.

Thankfully, with her, it was never like that. She had the aura of what you think angels would have. It was warm, gentle, and bright, like a bonfire on a cold winter night. It made you feel comfortable, it made you feel safe. Honestly, you sometimes wished she were your mother so you could bask in her presence forever.

Of course, that is not the case, and you like your parents well. They had no roaring shadows, just a light brush of soothing sunlight. It was sweet and inoffensive, just a whisper of heat and kind words. That, too, you appreciated.

It was why you listened to them well, doing your best to be a good child for them. When they asked you for help, you were always up to the challenge. You'd smile brightly, determination glistening within your eyes and your heart set on fulfilling your mission.

Today was one such day, leading you to a cottage in the woods. Your parents requested that you gave the lady of the forest a package. The task felt more like a blessing than a burden. You got to help your parents and see one of your favorite people in the world! How could you not be happy?

Standing before the worn alder door, you carefully shift your bag as you knock. You rock back and forth, humming cheerfully as you wait for her to answer. The sounds of shuffling footsteps can be heard behind the door, making you smile.

When it opens, your smile slips as you stare blankly. Before your eyes stands not your favorite person in the world, but a child. He has wispy, light blond hair, so light it's white. His eyes are like charcoal, both dark and burning as he stares holes into you. It's half a glare and half a stare, more of a glare, really.

For a few moments, you're stunned. Not really at the fact that the lady had a child you never knew, but at the darkness and light that surround him in equal parts.

Children never had such prominent representations of good or evil on them, having been born with a neutral conscience. They were surrounded by barely flickering echoes of right and wrong, never quite lasting.

Yet, here he was, a child with both virtue and vice wrapped tightly around him. It intrigues you, beckoning you forward like a siren's call.

Before you know it, you've taken his face in your hands and tilted it to look closer. At what, you're not quite sure. All you do is drink in his features like a man starved, staring at him with such intensity you'd feel embarrassed if you were clear headed.

You expect him to fight back once you realize what you've done, but all he does is stare back with equal intensity, challenging you. It makes you smile, an odd feeling of pride and a desire to crush that will of his coming from the depths of your heart. It makes you pause in surprise, letting go of his face and stepping back.

"I'm sorry." You say, fiddling with the straps of your bag as you look away. It was rather unlike you to act this way, or to have such a violent thought. You shook your head to clear them of such things.

"Why are you here?" He asks harshly, ignoring your apology. You accept that considering you were quite rude to him.

"I'm here to deliver a package to the nice lady. Is she home?" You look over his shoulder for any hint of her. He blocks your view, his glare intensifying. He looks like he's about to say no when a familiar voice cuts him off.

"Ah! You shouldn't be here!"

You can't tell if she's referring to you or him. In a few minutes, she's taken you inside the house and given you snacks. The boy pouts as the lady of the forest scolds him, warning him not to open the door to strangers.

You chew on a cookie as you continue to stare at the warped shapes of his soul shift around him. It's warmer now, brighter. It's sentient and alive, happily glowing in the presence of the nice lady. You can't blame him, you like her a lot too.

At the same time, you can't help but wonder what it'll take for his shadows to devour the light.

You calmly give the lady the package and thank her for the snacks, brushing crumbs off your hands. She pats you, causing you to smile as you relish in the gentle touch. She tells you to come again, to play with her son. You don't think he'd like to, but you're willing to try.

With a wave and a smile, you're off. You ignore the no longer hostile stare that follows you out.

Seeing as you're no liar, you meet him again. You keep your promise to visit, and thus a tender friendship begins. The boy is surprisingly nice at times. He's simultaneously so ordinary, yet unusual.

He smiles when you trip, but he always helps you up. He hides your things, but always ends up telling you where they are. He says rather mean things, but his actions never match his words.

He's weird, but you like him. Unlike the others your age, he's quite interesting. The shared soft spot you both have for his mother certainly helps, and before you know it, you're friends.

"Why don't you ever leave the forest?" You ask one day, pulling weeds out of the garden. His mother's garden was in need of some help, so you decided to work on it with the boy. He diligently works, even though he hates the sunlight.

"Mother says I shouldn't be seen by others. You're okay, though." You accept the answer easily. You figured that was the case, anyway.

After the official debut of the future king, a prince around your age, you realized a lot more things than you thought you would. You're sure his mother knows you know, but neither of you mention it. For you, it's none of your business. For her, it's a secret she must take to her grave.

You're quite good at keeping secrets. You're sure she knows that, too. You also know her secrets will one day consume her whole, however. They always do.

You wonder how he'll react that day.

Ever since you met the lady of the forest, red became your favorite color. It's the color of her hair, of the ladybugs in her garden, and of the tiles on your house's roof. It's a sweet color, one of pure and good memories.

That changes the day you turn of age.

You watch in horror as she's brought before a cheering crowd, a spectacle for people to watch. He's next to you, his face covered and a cloak hiding his hair. His eyes shake as he stares at the cruel stage, the start of a scene he'd never want to see showing right before his eyes.

Her chains jingle like cruel church bells, hair a tangled mess as she's dragged across the crude boards of the stage. Splinters stab at her feet, fresh wounds and old ones bleeding red as she's roughly slammed into a wooden contraption. She gasps in pain as they lock it in place, the final Wham! of the wood marking the end of her judgment.

You both look on in stunned shock as the blade whistles down at the call of a man- a man who shares the same face as him. Time seems to slow as her eyes meet yours, silently, desperately, asking for help. Help you cannot give. Help you wish you could give.

Your heart screams as it is forced to face how powerless you are. It squeezes and squeezes as if someone were clutching it in their hand, hoping to inflict as much pain on you as possible while you are hopelessly, miserably left alive despite it.

The man's shadow laughs as the guillotine cuts off her life, destroying the warmth of her soul and putting it out. Like a lit candle in the wind, she's extinguished. She's gone.

The once comforting red of her hair is tainted by the ruthless sight of her blood painting the stage.

You vaguely think you hear something shatter, perhaps something inside of you or somewhere around you. You turn to look at him, your hands trembling, when you see it.

It seems to destroy light itself, yet hold it all the same. A black hole that displaces the refraction of light, like darkness that shines bright, it breaks free from the chains of what is perhaps the last of his humanity.

Perhaps it's the last of his sanity.

Glancing down at your own shadow, you laugh quietly as tears slip down your face. It's carried away by the cheers of the crowd and the deafening applause, going unheard. An unnatural smile stretches your face as you turn your head up to the sky.

If his darkness has light, your light holds darkness. With it, you'd both destroy everything that dared make you this way.

"I'll kill them, I'll kill them, I'll kill them." He's trembling in your arms, his body barely able to contain all his emotions. His rage, his sorrow, his pain, his tears, everything, it seems to pour out of him. You can only rub your hand comfortingly in circles on his back, eyes blank as you stare lifelessly at the wall.

He was suppressing himself as his feelings lashed out. You, however, were eerily empty.

You felt nothing, yet everything. It was like all your emotions had been tossed away, as though they'd never been there before. In its place, a cold, cruel rationality took over your mind. It plotted, it schemed, and it had only one goal.

To destroy.

"You will." You tell him. "We will."

It's a promise, and you don't break promises.

The sound of rumbling stones greets you in a familiar cacophony of noise. You revel in it, watching the statue's face fall and crumble. He stands before you now, so different from the sweet boy he was back then. That's partially your fault, admittedly.

You held him that day, when the world had fallen apart. You'd promised him justice, you promised him peace. You promised him the world and everything in it, because that was what he deserved. He deserved it so he could ruin it, since really, did anything matter anymore? When she was gone, she died, you'd never see her alive, you couldn't understand why-

You sighed, shivering as a cold breeze blew through the area. It doesn't matter now. You'd found your peace. You'd gotten your revenge.

Turning your gaze to the figure before the desecrated statue, you smile widely. He does the same, spreading out his arms as he laughs maniacally. He, too, had gained his vengeance.

"The tower shall fall, and new lies will be treated as the word of god. The morning star is the true king!" He sweeps the air in front of him, hand outstretched to you. You step forward, placing a hand in his. His grin seems to grow wider at that, his grip becoming more firm as he pulls you into his arms.

"And you, my evening dawn, will stand by my side. We'll rule the greedy, the disloyal, and the unworthy. The dogs in crowns will remain at our feet, and it will not matter who stands before us." He laughs as he bites your neck, hard enough to draw blood. You only laugh in return, the pain as sweet as the taste of power.

His hair, now pure white like the feathers on a dove, glows in the brilliant light of the sun. His eyes, once a beautifully deep onyx, are like translucent opal. The red you once grew to hate, tainted by blood, is made again your favorite color. It drapes him from head to toe in majesty, deeming him a true god amongst men.

He pulls you up into a kiss, his lips tasting of your blood and dust. The taste of your own blood upon your tongue makes you laugh. Anything is sweet when it comes from him, from his lips, even the underlying tastes of iron and danger, the possessive curling of his claws.

When you finally draw away from each other, your faces are flushed. You both pant lightly, giggling like school children as you hold each other close. His hold speaks of love, of desire, of a feeling so encapsulating, so damning, he'd rather kill you than let you leave his side.

His shadow says so much more.

It curls around your own, protecting it, stealing it, tugging and holding it like it wants to merge with yours. The darkness tries to devour your light, but it's only a pointless cycle where one cannot destroy the other. They're two sides of the same coin, cultivated into a writhing mass of what you're sure anyone else would claim to be insanity.

You hum in joy, resting your forehead against his chest. He needs you as desperately as you need him. He'll never leave you, and you could never leave him. No one could ever take you away from each other.

"You're all I have." He tenderly murmurs, dragging a claw down your spine. You shiver as you look up at him, smiling. "And I am all you have."

"I love you. Only two things will ever have me, and it'll be you and death." You respond, meaning every word. He knows as well as you do that you mean it, and he rewards you with another kiss. It's sweeter than the last, an addicting pull that makes you yearn for more. More and more and more, until you suffocate.

You'll treasure him for the rest of your life. He's your precious partner, isn't he? You should hold him close and treat him right. Isn't that what they taught you?

You smile, something akin to a nightmare, as you turn. He stands by your side as you saunter over to the gilded cage, the traitors shaking within.

"What do you think, mother, father?"

He was your beginning, and he will be your end.

Tag List

@ithaquakisser, @xiaosmary

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

Text

In the Name of Good | Prt 1 -[P.P.]

Pairings: Dark!Yandere!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Prompt: "what are we going to do about this?" you're caught, red-handed, and peter's next move could destroy your life forever. unless… you can convince him otherwise

Summary: Peter is acting strange and curiosity kills the cat

word Count: 6k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+

Swearing, Somnophillia, Murder, Mentions of blood, Mentions of emesis, Animal Abuse/harm (Murder Triad stuff)

( Part 2 | Masterlist )

A/N: AHHHHHH! I'm so sorry I'm late I saw this like 30 minutes ago and whipped this up. Anyway, congrats to @liz-allyn and I'm honoured that you would wanna read anything I write. This is for you :))

Also, there is a literal murder scene in here so read at your own discretion. Perhaps I should cut back on the true crime after this. It's separated from the rest of the text and in italics so you can avoid it if you wish not to read

Peter Parker was the kindest man you knew. You grew up down the street from each other. Your parents moved into his neighbourhood when you were 7 years old. You sat in the front yard with a popsicle as the adults passed you by, carrying many heavy boxes. Across the street, you saw the curtains move. A mop of brown curls ducking as soon as you looked.

Peter had never really had friends before. Always been more of a loner. Aunt May had been preparing cookies all day and promised to take him over when “the new neighbours look more settled.” But he was impatient. He watched as you sat across the street, red popsicle dripping down your chin and fingers. He was fascinated by it. He liked the colour and the way it danced down your arm, enchanting.

You quickly became best friends, walking to school every day and playing at recess together. Peter didn’t treat you differently because you were a girl, he didn’t treat you like you were dainty. He would encourage you to jump off the swings with him. He would do nerf battles with you. He would rough house too.

Peter was your best friend and you loved him unconditionally. In middle school, you had your first crush: Noah Myers. Peter didn’t like him very much but you were head over heels for this boy. He called you pretty and drew you flowers that you would keep in your locker. He asked you to the spring dance and you were so excited to go. Peter and Aunt May took you dress shopping and it was so much fun, until he ditched you to dance with some other girl, an eighth grader no less. You could never compete with her.

That night you cried into Peter’s shoulder and he told you he would make him pay. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, and you never did. Noah showed up to school for a week and then disappeared. People said he moved others said he transferred schools but no one knew for sure.

By high school, many people thought that You and Peter were dating. Your relationship could be seen as co-dependent but you didn’t really care. He made you feel safe. There was hardly a secret between you two. He regularly spent the night at your place and his bed was always open to you. He was there for every milestone; you couldn’t imagine anyone else you would want to share those moments with.

That was until senior year. He started getting distant, he wouldn’t answer his phone for hours at a time and would never explain why. You thought maybe he had a girlfriend, but who? The thought alone made you feel like you were putting your heart through a vegetable spiralizer. It’s true that you weren't dating but you liked his attention. You had never thought of sharing it. Maybe that was selfish of you.

This went on for weeks and you were starting to get restless. What was he doing? What was he hiding? You stayed by your bedroom window on a Tuesday afternoon, watching his house. What you didn’t realise was that Peter was watching you too. He always did. He would watch you through his camera lens from the comfort of his bed. You knew he took pictures of you, you had seen them tacked up on his wall. He explained they were candids and you thought nothing more of it. His sweet, gullible, little lamb.

You didn’t see the stash he had in a book under his bed. He had cut out the pages to make room for your beauty. You had never thought to be reserved around Peter, sometimes changing in front of him. It was a cruel tease that you thought so little of him. He would watch you after school, as you studied, cleaned your room, and did your little workout that drove him crazy.

But today was different. Today you were looking right at him. You didn’t realise this of course, but you were. Why were you watching him, or trying to at least? Had he raised your suspicion? Had you been following the news? He knows Aunt May has warned him about going out at night. He wonders if someone had given you the same talk.

Hello, little lamb, he thought, What is it you want to know? He had to play his cards right. He could make himself visible, see what you might do. He could stay hidden and enjoy knowing you were looking for him. He could call you, pretend to be busy, see if you falter. So many options, so many choices.

Peter liked having choices. He likes making choices for others. That’s something he relished in you. You were so obedient, so willing to act on his will. It might be the only reason he hadn’t been caught. Knowing that it might come back to you made him careful. He had to protect you, keep you safe from the dangers of this world.

Like the dog on Kalamasis Street that tried to bite you. That stupid mutt scared you, snarling and barking at you. It had threatened you and he couldn’t stand for that. He felt joy in the missing fliers hung around the block. He pointed one out to you, just to see what you would say. He swelled with pride when you declared “Serves it right. I just hope it doesn’t come back to finish what it started.”

Peter couldn’t tell you that he knew it wouldn’t. Not yet. He had to make sure you were ready. He had to know that you would accept him and all his flaws. He had to know you would stand by him. He couldn’t lose you, neither of you would survive it.

You were patient, he’ll give you that. Three hours passed with you sitting at your window sill before you called him. He watched as you fumbled with the device in your hands, mulling it over. A choice. You chose to call him.

“Hey Petey, you home?” You sounded chipper but you didn’t know he could see the worry on your face. The way you picked at your nailbed nervous about his answer.

“My car’s out front right?” he chuckled, delighting in your desire to see him.

“Can I come over?” he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. You were so cute.

“Of course, little lamb, you’re always welcome over.” You smiled and he took a picture. You were so perfect, the way you were leaning over the window sill, your breasts pushed out in that thin tank top you had on.

He watched as you made your way across the street, backpack in hand. You had made another choice: to spend the night. Peter was conflicted with himself. He wanted to go out tonight, but having you in his bed would make it difficult. Not because you would catch him, you never did, but it might distract him.

You loved spending the night at Peter’s. It was the best rest you ever had. Maybe it was because his home was homier than yours. His came with an Aunt May, homemade dinners, and a bigger bed. It didn’t matter how much you complained, your parents refused to get you anything bigger than a twin. You think it’s because they’re not as on board with Pete spending the night but you don’t care. You just share your twin and your parents will either have to get you a bigger bed or sleep knowing you and Peter have to snuggle to fit.

Pete meets you at the door and basks in the smile that spreads across your face. You make your way to the dining room table where you begin to work on your homework. Peter joins you and you enjoy the quiet, it feels nice just to be with him. You suddenly feel stupid for getting so jealous over a girl who probably didn’t exist.

You didn’t notice Peter watching your every move as if trying to memorise the choreography of your mundane mannerisms. The way you twirled everything that entered your hand, a pen, a pencil, a straw. The way you would let out three quick puffs of air when you got stumped on something. The way you crossed and uncrossed your legs in thought.

Being “normal” around you was hard, even though his normal around you was already odd. He decided to take advantage of his time with you, hoping perhaps he can satiate himself with you and not need to go out tonight. He let out a dramatic puff of air, catching your attention.

“I can’t focus.” You leaned on your hand pouting.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You were always so willing to serve.

“Can you sit on my lap? You’re too far and it’s distracting.” You got up without a second thought. Physical closeness with Peter was something you were so used to. Whether it be holding hands, cuddling, or sitting on his lap, that was just expected.

You sat on his thigh and it took everything in him not to grab your hips and slowly start grinding you against him. He wondered what you would sound like, what sweet noises and pleas you would make for him. He wondered if you had ever done something like that. He imagines you grinding against a stuffed animal he had given you. What would Mr Whiskers say if he could talk?

You were so oblivious to him and it both excited and angered him. It excited him because he knew he could get away with quite a bit. But it angered him because he wanted you to be his, all his and no one else's. He remembered the guy from your econ class then.

You had worn a skirt Peter had bought you to school today. You loved anything Peter picked out for you and wore it with pride. It was definitely too short for dress code but you were such a sweetheart no one dared scold you. That guy didn’t care how sweet you were.

Peter watched as he trailed behind you in the halls, just staring at your ass, making obscene gestures that his lackeys would laugh at. He had to pay. He couldn’t get away with that. Ogling at what wasn’t his. You none the wiser, too sweet and kind to know what he meant. Peter had to protect you, his little lamb.

It was nine o’clock, time for bed. Peter preferred to stay up but he could never say no to you. You dressed in your pyjamas and Peter watched, he watched as you pulled your shirt off exposing your perfect back to him. He wanted to kiss and lick up your spine, have you mewling, begging for more. You unhooked your bra and for a moment he was jealous of the Smith’s poster on the wall that got to see them. It’s not that Peter hasn’t seen them, it’s just always been through a viewfinder, two planes of glass and a street away.

He always slept in his boxers and you never thought anything of it. It never occurred to you that maybe that was too intimate between friends. He was in his home and could sleep as he wished. You got in bed as Peter went to get you some water. He always did this. Made sure you had plenty to eat and drink. Every time you spent the night he gave you a glass of water and made you drink it all, he was just so kind.

While fixing your drink he tried to focus on you. He tried to convince himself that a night with you was better than a night out, but all he could think about was that fucking guy. He had gone through the yearbook and found him. Blake Walsh was the son of Debera and John Walsh. John owned a landscaping company and after a little digging, he found their address. He couldn’t not go out tonight. Not after what he did to you.

He stirred your glass, making sure the sleep aid fully dissolved. After inspecting it closely he was pleased with his work. You smiled at him as you accepted the water, downing it in seconds before rolling over and patting the place next to you. Peter wasted no time climbing in after you. It wasn’t long before sleep overtook you. Peter waited patiently for your light snores before moving. He had a busy night ahead of him.

First, he petted your face, moving the hair out of the way. You didn’t even flinch. He had been worried he hadn’t used enough melatonin, you were starting to build a tolerance over the years so he had to give you more, always careful to not use too much. He didn’t want you to be suspicious. He ripped the blankets off of you and rolled you onto your back.

He took in your sleeping form, nipples peaked through your thin shirt due to the sudden coldness, your exposed hip from where it rode up, your shorts bunched. He wanted to ravish you. He checked the clock, 10:30. He had to finish his night by three. It would take him at least two hours to take care of Blake, but he always underestimated.

He had thirty minutes to enjoy you. He began by slowly pulling down your shorts, listening carefully for any disturbance from you. Once your shorts were off he buried his head between your thighs. He thanked whatever deity was out there for giving him this gift of heightened sent. God, you smelled so good he could almost taste you. He couldn’t help himself, he laid his tongue flat against your core through your cotton panties. He relished in the little squirm you made.

He allowed himself a few more licks before he couldn’t stand it any longer. He was rutting against the bed, his hard-on leaking precum onto the sheets. He pulled his boxers off and sat back at the head of the bed. He slowly lifted your hand, kissing your knuckles before spitting into your palm. He listened carefully, monitoring your heart rate and breathing pattern as he went. He slowly wrapped your fingers around his member, it twitched in your hand.

He started stroking himself with it, your skin was so soft. He bit his lip as he sped up your movements. He stared at your innocent face, he wondered what you would look like falling apart from his hands. Maybe one day he’d know. It wasn’t long before he was cumming, heightened senses making him sensitive. He carefully licked your hand clean before going to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He got dressed and went to his closet. He had made a lock for it, much similar to his bedroom door, but this one was a combination lock. Aunt May was never in his room much and if she asked he had a collection of porno mags he would pull out and pretend to be ashamed of. He was sure she would let it go after that.

He grabbed his go bag and headed out the window. He had gotten into a routine of sorts for his adventures. First, he put his car in neutral and pushed it down the street to the stop sign. Anyone who saw him would just think he was a teenager sneaking out, nothing more. With his newfound strength, it was quite easy to do. Secondly, he would arrive a mile from the location. His endurance was much better now and running was easy, as was scaling houses. This brings us to three, find a point of entry/distraction.

When he first started he was more of the blitz attacker. Finding someone on a night run and ending it there, no planning, no flair, just a rush. But now he was getting good at this. He surveyed the house for a bit, it was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be any security measures. He could work with that. He saw a light on in one of the rooms, upon closer inspection he realised it was Blake’s. He was up on his phone, not seemingly doing much.

He found a doggie door in the backdoor and hopped around in silent glee. If he could pull this off he could get two kills tonight.

__________

He shimmied through and began listening for bodies. He heard something on the ground floor with him. He crept around the kitchen and opened a small door. It was a laundry room and there in the corner was his prize.

A beautiful golden retriever, none the wiser to his presence. He knelt beside it and it started to stir. He quickly clamped his hand around its mouth squeezing enough for it to yelp. He snapped his neck, taking its collar in his pocket. He lifted the dog over his shoulder and made his way under Blake’s window. He threw a couple of stones at the window and it wasn’t long until Blake opened it.

He was surprised to see Peter, even more, surprised to see him holding PopTart over his shoulder.

“Parker, what the hell are you doing here?” He whispered loudly.

“Hey, is this your dog? I don’t think she’s doing too well.” Peter bit back a smile. It was almost too easy. He watched as Blake began to panic before rushing away from the window.

Peter heard him open the front door and dropped the dog before scaling the side of the house to get a better view. Blake looked around briefly for Peter before falling to his knees in front of his dog. Peter watched as Blake began to shake her more and more before crying out.

“You know,” Blake’s head shot up at hearing Peter’s voice looking around before finally seeing him clinging to the side of his house. “You should really lock your doggy door.”

Blake said nothing as his brain continued to process. Peter lept off as he balled his fists together, knocking blake on the head. He picked them both up, one on each shoulder, “Really, any old creep could get in.”

__________

Peter returned to you at two am exhausted but very happy. When you woke up the next morning in his arms you were none the wiser about his escapades. Aunt May made you breakfast before you carpooled to school. You teased Peter for being such a morning person when you still felt groggy. Peter only chuckled, offering you some of his coffee and you took an appreciative sip.

You had a great day and Peter did too. He seemed extra affectionate, hugging you from behind, kissing you on the cheek. You appreciated it after feeling neglected for a month. You couldn’t remember the last time Peter seemed so happy.

That didn’t last when you walked in together on school Thursday. Peter immediately took notice of the extra cops in the school. He walked you to your locker and stared them down over your shoulder. They didn’t seem to suspect him. Why would they, they couldn’t know, right?

In English, he noticed a mob around Gwen Stacy. He took his seat listening in, “Yeah, my dad said Blake is missing. They think he might have run away or something. His window was open and his dog is missing too.”

He heard someone ask if she thought he was murdered, “My dad won’t tell me anything else but I’m sure he’s fine.”

Peter knew he wasn’t, Peter knew where he was. He was gone, unable to hurt you again.

That night at dinner May seemed on edge. “(Y/n), I know your parents are out of town but I would prefer it if you spent the night here.”

You looked at her confused and Peter shared your expression. “Mrs Parker, you know I’m never one to turn down an invitation. Are you worried about me being alone?”

May took a sip of water, and Peter recognised this look. She was worried but didn’t want to worry anyone else. Always the protector, never the protected. “I know it’s probably nothing but with those murders in the park and that kid missing…it has me worried. I don’t want you in that house alone. If anything happened to you-”

“Nothing would ever happen to her.” Peter hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t meant to snap like that. He felt anger rise in his gut at the insinuation, that May thought he would ever hurt you. Of course, she didn’t know that she had implied that, but he did and it angered him.

He melted a little when you rested your hand on his. He looked into your sad eyes and let himself be swaddled in your tone. “I know you would never let anything happen to me, okay Pete? I’m not going anywhere.”

You were so sweet and kind. To you, his outburst was out of fear. The fear of losing anyone else. You had held him as he cried over Uncle Ben, listening to his last voicemail on repeat. You had consoled him as a child when someone told him his parents hadn’t died they just didn’t love him enough to stay. You had been there for him, and he was determined to do the same.

That week you stayed at the Parker’s. You opted to just change at home as it was just across the street, instead of trying to pack all those clothes. Peter always accompanied you. He took the time to pick out your outfits and raid your panty drawer. He was a sick fuck and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.

By the following Friday, Peter was getting restless. Spending every night with you was nice but he needed to get out again. His brain was foggy and he couldn’t focus on anything, even you weren’t helping.

That night when braiding your hair Peter grew curious. He wanted to tell you but he couldn’t, not yet. “So what do you think happened to that Blake kid?”

You were quiet for a minute and Peter worried you might not have heard him. “I think I chase boys away.”

That definitely wasn’t the response he was expecting, “What?”

He tied off the end of your braid and turned you around in his lap so you were facing him. You rested your hands on the back of his neck, head turned unable to look at him.

“It’s like, any guy that might like me just…disappears.” Peter raised his eyebrows, shocked you could even piece that together. You hadn’t said anything before.

“What do you mean?” Peter knew exactly what you meant but needed to know how much you knew.

“Well first it was Noah, he left me at the dance and then left forever. There was Micheal who flirted with me for a bit and then three days before our date just vanished. And now Blake, he just complimented my skirt. I’m not even sure he was into me but it was enough and now he…he ran away.” Peter could hear your voice breaking and moved to grab your chin. You didn’t fight as he raised it, levelling your gaze.

“Hey, it’s their fucking loss, okay? You are the most amazing person I know, anyone would be lucky to have you.” You sniffled and he continued. “Besides, none of those guys are worth a shit. No one is compared to you, little lamb.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before tucking you in and curling into your side. It wasn’t long before you were asleep and Peter snuck out to go to the park.

You woke up in the middle of the night. You felt cold. You realised then that Peter wasn’t in bed with you. You went downstairs to get a glass of water. Maybe Peter was right to give you water before bed, he didn’t tonight and now you couldn’t sleep.

You called out softly for him, but he didn’t answer. Was he not home? You checked the clock on the stove: 1:45. He shouldn’t be out. You made your way to the living room window and were surprised to see his car wasn’t there.

You were worried making your back upstairs. You climbed back into bed, tossing and turning unable to sleep. That’s when you noticed his closet was open. It was never opened. You stared at the small crack in the door, it called your name like a siren’s song. You told yourself you were only going to grab a hoodie, you were cold. You weren’t going to snoop.

You wish you never had. You wish you could go back to before you knew. When you first opened it you saw chalk on the wall. A bunch of tally marks. You thought it was odd. Then you noticed there were no clothes in here. The shelves were lined with odd trinkets, rings, a shoelace. You noticed a ziplock baggie with hair, a date hastily scribbled on, and you began to get nauseous. You noticed a dog collar, the tag glinting in the moonlight. You flipped it over and your heart fell to the floor.

It was from the dog down the street. You remembered seeing the same name and collar on the missing sign. The address lined up too. You began digging and you found more collars, more jewellery, even keys.

You found a bloody baseball card in the same bag as a dog collar. You turned it over, PopTart Walsh. Your hands shook as you realised what you were looking at. His trophies. There were so many, this had to be going on for years. You turned to the chalkboard and began counting the tallies.

“900” You gasped dropping the collar with a loud clatter. You hadn’t heard him come in.

“Well, it is now. Technically, there are 899 tallies there, but after tonight,” he held up a pair of headphones already bagged and dated, “It’s 900.”

You took slow steps back and he matched each one, hands turned out. Your back met the wall and you squeaked as you realised you had backed yourself into the closet.

“Woah there, little lamb, be careful. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” His smile looked sickening in the moonlight. You had never felt fear like this before. You had started crying, cheeks feeling itchy as each tear dried.

“Aw, you poor thing. Why don’t you come on out of there and we can go to bed.” His tone was the same as always, gentle and soothing. You didn’t like it anymore, it seemed false now. Now that you knew he was anything but gentle. But what could you do?

You took slow steps forward feeling your heart drop with every pace towards his open arms. He held you tightly, pinning your arms to your sides, as he nuzzled your neck with his nose. You felt sick, you hated that his touch still made feel special. After everything you’d seen, after everything you know, you still find yourself melting into his embrace.

Peter feels your heartbeat start to steady and pulls away slightly. He cradles your face, your hair stuck between his palms and your cheeks. He tuts as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, “Why aren’t you in bed, little one?”

Your breathing was still quick but you tried your best to answer. “I- I was cold. You were gone. I got- I got scared.”

You felt your eyes start to water again and Peter fixed you with a soft smile. One that would usually make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Little lamb, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

He observed you for a while, trying to decide his next move. You knew now. The cat’s out of the bag and one of this size certainly can’t be swept under the rug. This was going to change everything.

“You have a choice,” His tone was low and silky. You shuddered as his breath ran over the bridge of your nose. “You can try and run, but I assure you, you won’t get very far.”

Your stomach dropped at his words as if the gravity of the situation finally hit you. You were in danger. You were in danger because your best friend was a serial killer and would kill you to not get caught. Peter had never threatened you before. Not even jokingly.

“Or, you can be a good little girl and wait for me.” Your blood ran cold at the nickname. It wasn’t one he used often. You could count on one hand the amount of times he had used it in the 10 years you’ve known him.

You nodded your head and he tutted again, “Words, darling.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, “I’ll be good.”

Peter seemed satisfied by your answer and rewarded you with a kiss on the forehead. You sat on his bed as you heard the water start to run. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the closet door. The more you looked into the inky blackness the more it seemed to pull you in. Your head hurt. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Wild thoughts began to race through your mind.

How long had this been going on?

Were you dying right now?

Had he poisoned you?

Was he going to kill you anyway?

Had he really killed 900 people?

Before you realised what you were doing you felt the morning dew on your bare feet. The sensation shocked you back into your body. You left. You weren’t a good girl, you had left. And now Peter was going to punish you, probably in a deadly capacity. You considered turning back, but the thought of looking in that closet again almost made you hurl on the Parker’s front lawn.

You made your way across the street and went up to your room. You didn’t bother locking the door. If Peter wanted to get to you, you doubted a locked door would stop him. You raced up the stairs and into your ensuite bathroom.

You felt like a wreck, Your head pounding as your stomach expelled everything it could. You rinsed your mouth out and began brushing your teeth, wanting to rid your mouth of the bitter taste of bile. After rinsing your face you turned back to your room. You climbed into bed facing the window, you didn’t see any movement yet. Everything seemed still at the Parker house. For a moment you thought you might have dreamed it. Just a moment though.

“You ran away.” His voice was stone, sending shivers down your spine.

You curled into yourself as if that would somehow save you, “No, I didn’t”

You heard his footfall on the carpet, he was right behind you now, “Arguing isn’t going to help you, little lamb.”

You felt his hand grip your shoulder. It hurt as he ripped at it, pulling you to face him. The shadows of the room painted him in an eerie light. His hood was pulled over his face, only his mouth illuminated by the velvety glow of the street lights.

“I couldn’t-” You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling breathless again. “I couldn’t stay in there. I felt like the darkness was going to swallow me up.”

Peter’s demeanour changed, it was like your words flicked a switch. His countenance changed to one of pity. You weren’t sure you liked it. He sat by your legs before bending over and picking you up. It felt unnatural, the strength he had, the way he lifted you like it was nothing.

He tucked you into his chest, stroking your hair. “Poor thing, I’m so sorry you had to see that. I know you weren’t ready.” You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he left a quick peck on your scalp, “ask away.”

You thought for a moment before opening your mouth, “Have you really killed 900 people?”

He chuckled, the rumbling shaking your body, “No, that’s just how many things I’ve killed. I started the tally not long before you came along. It’s mostly bugs and animals. I’ve only killed 9 people.”

You almost laughed at the absurdity, only 9. As if ending a human life wasn’t such a big deal. It wasn’t much only 9. You asked the only question you could think of next. The one you were burning to know since you first realised. The one you feared the most. “Why?”

Peter was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking through his answer. “Many reasons. I like it, for starters. It feels good. Most of them deserved it, well that’s not true I suppose. Those Joggers didn’t do anything wrong but Noah and Michael and Blake,” he said the last name with so much venom you winced.

“They deserved it.” He was quiet for a minute and you thought maybe he was done. You shifted to look at his face. You had begun to hate yourself in this exchange. You shouldn’t enjoy sitting in his lap like this. You shouldn’t think he’s pretty. You shouldn’t fantasize about his pulling you close into an earth-shattering kiss. But you were and you hated yourself for that.

He moved a fallen strand of hair from your face before resting his hand there, “I didn’t mean to kill Noah. I really didn’t. But I can’t say that I’m sorry for it either.”

“You seem pretty sure of your actions. I wouldn’t expect you to be.” He chuckled again at your words. You hated yourself for the pride blooming in your chest at making him laugh.

His face fell again as he sighed, “When Uncle Ben died I was devastated. He was killed…all because he couldn’t mind his own business. As I watched my uncle bleed out I was horrified but also…excited? That’s not the right word. I watched as the blood left his body and I felt, I dunno, alive. It was like his life was being poured into mine, and it was beautiful.”

Your brows knitted together as he spoke, it was terrifying to hear him talk like that. “I was given powers and I knew what I had to do. I had to avenge him. That’s why his life force was given to me, so I could kill the fucker that got him.”

You nodded your head slowly, that was really the only thing Peter had said that made sense. His righteous anger was justified. “Did you? Did you kill him I mean?”

Peter’s smile stretched, pulling out the dimples in his face, “Yes, I did.”

You mulled his words over, growing confused again, “You said you got powers? What kind of powers? Why- Why do this?”

Peter threw his head back as a laugh ripped through his chest. You braced your hands on his biceps in fear. “Oh, little lamb, I have been chosen by the universe, given the strength of a god, given the power of a god. This is what I was meant to do.”

You shook your head, not wanting to accept that Peter was made for such horrors. “Why not use your powers for good?”

He tilted his head like a puppy, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a pout. You thought for a moment that you had gotten to him, that maybe you had turned him to the light. “I’m using them to protect you. What better good is there?”

You shook your head burying it in his chest. He was doing this for you. It was your fault Blake was dead. It was your fault those joggers in the park would never go home to their families. It was all your fault. You began sobbing gripping his jacket in your shaky palms. Peter shooshed you, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” He pulled back the blankets and let you sink into the mattress. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in behind you, holding you close to his chest. “Sleep now, it’ll all be fine in the morning.”

Tag List: @andrews-lovr @rudy-the-winged-wolf @wannapizzamymindposts @whoreforklitz @jedisstark

More tags from Lizzy's Post: @blooming-violets @rae-gar-targaryen @withahappyrefrain @mrshipsmcgee @venus616 @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @spidervee @p3mybeloved @fairyqueenxx007 @asoulsreverie @peterthepark @the-amazing-simp @fallensilencefics @jadore-andor @allofmaris

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unityrain24 · 5 months

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❅Jotun Loki Design❅

my submissions for @jotun-design-party, though i don't know if it's too late (deadline was december 17th, and it it still dec 17 for me {by less than an hour} but idk if it is for it). If i missed the deadline, i'm sorry.

I had been looking forward to this for several months (and even started a separate jotun loki design months ago in preparation/excitement), but i just haven't been able to do much as of late. Which is sad. And while i had been planning to enter the contest for months, as it drew nearer i realized i probably wouldn't be able to. Which was very sad, because this is one of the only things i've actually looked forward to in forever :(.

As such, though, i really didn't want this oppurtunity to go to waste, like so many others i've had to, and especially in light of magpiemurder going to leave its account soon, i just decided i'd have to push though and do it. I spent pretty much all of today just drawing drawing drawing. Traditional sketched, and then "quickly" added colour digitally (it took several hours as well).

also. all the designs are supposed to be symmetrical (save design 四 and the nails in designs 三&四), so if you see any mistakes... sshhh

More on designs:

一: average battle outfit made from thick, rubbery frost beast leather

二: ceremonial battle armour, used in head shaving ceremony and first battle of a war. Made from thick and (some) thin leather, as well as some mercury metal rings, beads, and bone

三: average every-day wear (inside the city). made of fur, cloth woven from fur, thin leather mercury and bone.

四: average every-day wear (inside city). Likely for around-city wear, not relaxing indoors, due to the uncomfortableness of the beads. Made of fur fabric, fur, thin leather, beads, some bone.

五: average everyday wear (inside city). By far my favourite. For the loincloth, i tried making it look like celtic knots that start right at the top, then sort of get looser and "fade-out" at the end. Thin leather, fur fabric, bone, beads, possibly mercury metal rings.

六: everyday travel wear (outside of city). Not made for warmth, but for protection agains the elements (sharp stone, cutting blizzards, etc). Thick leather, mercury rings. Since loki is royalty, the under layer on theirs is made of black fish scale (the rarest) (also it's supposed to be slightly iridescent but i couldn't do that). For less lavish options, under layers could be made of simply thinner leather, fabric, or a nothing. The nothing option has the jotun wearing it craft an under layer out of ice, and allows for more skin avaliable to make ice for other uses. Also notice how lokis gloves leave the palm bear; this is to allow for the ability to still make ice.

also wanted to say pretty much any of these outfits could be worn with cloaks (save design 一) but i didn't draw them

also: i wanted to do another outfit, a traditional wedding attire. I imagine the jotnar wouldn't actually wear clothes for a wedding, but rather make their own covering out of their own ice. Being their own design, it shows their partner "who they are", and the transparency of the ice represents vulnerability and transparency (in communication; honesty).

jotun headcanons

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afternoonsociety · 1 year

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*ೃ༄ The Sound of Two Different Hearts - Part Three - Neteyam x Human!Fem!Reader

warnings: neteyam being jealousy of Spider, a little bit angst, neteyam and reader still denying their feelings for each other,

This part felt kinda rushed. I had a very stressful week at work but I hope you still like it , let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part

word count: 4.6k

synopsis: During the feast, Neteyam becomes jealous of Spider and Y/N, and on top of that, his parents demand that he finds himself a mate.

— Part One — Part Two — Part Three — Part Four

other websites: ao3 // wattpad

Y/N waited at the other end of the glade until Neteyam also came after her. He had an annoyed expression on his face. Why did Tuk have to come now of all times? And why did the food have to be ready now? With every more step he wished he could turn back time, to be in her arms again and hold her forever, so she wouldn't run away and he could finally confess his love to her. And to finally be able to seal their love with a kiss.

She held out her hand for Nete to take. In the meantime, Tuk ran forward full of joy and waved her arms around her as if she was flying. When she was out of sight, Neteyam took Y/N's hand and together they returned hand in hand to the village. He already couldn't get enough of holding her hand and clasped it tighter the closer they got.

They drew a few stares as they stepped onto the Omatikaya ground, first and foremost from their friends and siblings. Y/N was beaming over both ears and Kiri rooted from afar for Y/N that they had both finally managed to express their feelings and that they belonged together.

Lo'ak, however, could only laugh stupidly when he saw the slightly strained expression on his big brother's face. However Kiri and Lo'ak did not know yet that it didn't come to the large confession as they had hoped for.

While Y/N and `Teyam were looking for the others in the crowd to sit down with them, Neyetam's clan friends suddenly came to him and pulled him along with them full of laughter. One could only half guess that they had something of a funny story to tell. As Neteyam now disappeared into the group, Spider came up to her to tell her where Kiri and the rest were. She sat down and engaged in the conversation the others had before. But somehow her side felt bare without Neteyam. By the fire, Y/N was desperately looking for Nete on the other side, where he sat with his friends. She was a little crestfallen that he let himself be pulled away so easily. Of course she understood that he had other friends besides her and Spider, but after what had happened in the meadow, she would have liked to spend some more time with him. It had just felt too beautiful, like a dream. To be able to touch him and admire him. To trace his markings with her fingers. Counting his individual freckles and feeling his warmth. He just looked so damn good in the dim light.

She was gushing so much that she didn't even notice that the food was being served. There was grilled hexapede meat and teylu. Spider handed her an extra wooden board full of teylu, since it was her favorite Na'vi dish. She was surprised how quickly she got used to the Na'vi diet and how quickly she grew fond of it. For one thing, she liked Teylu so much because she couldn't get enough of the unique taste and that it was safe for her to eat as a human. And on the other hand because of the story Lo'ak told her years ago, which was about his father eating teylu for the first time and it almost stuck in his throat when Neytiri told him that it was grilled insect-like larvae. However, not wanting to be rude, he told Neytiri that it tasted almost exactly like his „grandmother's teylu“.

As she ate, her eyes again wandered to the other side, finally finding Neteyam. He had spotted her earlier and looked at her as if he wanted to go over and take her back with him. He literally stared at her as if there was something on his lips that he desperately wanted to tell her. But Kiri interrupted their eye contact when she asked what had happened between the two.

"And what happened between you and him? Did you finally kiss?"

"Shh, Kiri, not so loud. No we didn't kiss. We just sat in the grass and talked," Y/N said, a certain redness slowly rising in her cheeks again as she recalled. "Something else happened, or why are you blushing now, heh?" replied Kiri with a grin. "We somehow got closer, he had touched me. I took thereupon all my courage together and sat down on his lap. We held each other in our arms, but nothing more happened" Kiri was a little disappointed, she knew that Y/N was a little shy around Nete, but she would have expected something else from her brother.

Before Y/N could start talking out about the situation again, Miles arrived from the side and started playing with the food. He waved a piece of teylu in front of Y/N's face to play airplane. He made plane noises with his mouth and came closer and closer with his hand to her face. "Watch out Y/N here comes the teylu plane" She opened her mouth but on purpose he missed it and poked it to her left cheek, then her right and then her chin. Y/N understood his joke and started fooling around with him. "Miles, cut it out," she said and next slapped his hand away and took the teylu from his hand and popped it into her mouth. He then poked her in the ribs and she let out a little shriek. That was only the beginning of their numerous playfights. Spider kept poking and at some point started tickling her. Y/N defended herself by lashing out and tried to do the same to him. It escalated only after a few seconds and they were wrestling with each other. Miles pushed her to the ground and held both of her hands to keep on annoying her. She squirmed back and forth and used all her strength to free herself from his grip. Then she pushed her hand into his face to keep Spider at a distance. Holding his head back, he kept trying to reach for her and didn't give up. At last he tore himself free, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down with him. Miles laid on the floor with Y/N on top of him hugging her tightly. "Don't be mad, will you?" he said with a laugh, beaming a grin at her. Slightly annoyed, Y/N then replied, "I love you too Miles," and began to ruffle his hair. Tuk Tuk cheered them on and was disappointed that the "fight" between the two was over so quickly. Furthermore, they drew more stares from the other Omaticaya, most notably Neteyam's gaze. Which darkened from this second to the next.

He sat there with a tension and had to watch how someone else touched the girl he loved so much. He was more than annoyed, almost angry, that both of them just fooled around and lay together in each other's arms. He couldn't believe that Y/N would just let Miles touch her like that. He was jealous, so jealous that he interpreted the touching as something else and not just as a display of brotherly affection. He was jealous of Miles that he could just start a play fight without having to be careful about using too much force and not hurting her because of his stature. He was jealous that Y/N didn't touch him like that, even though the previous encounter between the two was very intimate for him. He felt no amusement in watching the two of them. After all, hadn't Y/N felt the connection in the meadow between the two of them? Did she care so little? Was she so oblivious to his feelings - that he didn't exactly express directly? What would have happened if he had kissed her, would she have pushed him away and told him she didn't feel the way he did? So many thoughts flashed through his mind that he couldn't watch it anymore, which is why he stood up abruptly and escaped the scene. He needed to cool down. He would like to punch a tree, but even that wouldn't bring his emotions down now. His friends were still calling after him, but he didn't respond. He needed to be alone now.

Slowly it was time to say goodbye, it was already late at night and Y/N was starting to get tired. She was crestfallen that it had unfortunately passed so quickly. Miles and Y/N made their way home so that Norm and the other scientists wouldn't have to worry. She hugged Kiri last and then asked, "Have you seen Neteyam anywhere? Earlier he was still sitting at the fire but was gone so suddenly? I wanted to wish him good night"

"I haven't seen him since we ate. I don't know where he is," Lo'ak replied.

She got sad when she heard that Neteyam was nowhere to be found. The evening with him was special and she wanted to thank him. Feeling disappointed, she then made her way home with her head hanging low.

Meanwhile, Neteyam had withdrawn to his hammock. He wanted to say goodbye to Y/N when she left, but he was just too angry and could not bear to see Miles any longer. His jealousy consumed his body and he decided to replay the pleasant part of the day by closing his eyes.

The next few days weren't the easiest for Neteyam. He was even more confused than before. There was a complete chaos of emotions inside him, which he unfortunately took out on the others around him. Especially on Miles. Since the night he couldn't stand to look him in the eye, so blinded was he by his jealousy and his wrong interpretation. He was harsh to him every time he did any misdeeds with Lo'ak again. He was not afraid to put him in his place in front of the whole group. Once it even got so bad that Neteyam came marching towards Spider with big steps, towering over him with his body and looking at him with a burning gaze. Then the lecture about a small thing Spider did began. The others didn't understand why Nete suddenly became so aggressive and when the situation seemed to escalate, Y/N desperately stepped in and put her hand on Neteyam's chest. For a moment his anger seemed to disappear as he looked first at her hand on his body and then into her shocked eyes. She didn't know what had gotten into him. Why was he like this? Did something happen between them? The young woman asked herself in her thoughts. She hadn't noticed anything, though. Y/N tried to descalate the situation further. "Nete calm down. What's wrong with you?" But he only scoffed and turned on his heel to go somewhere else.

A voice inside him only confirmed his suspicions and anxiety began to settle in him that it would be better for the two of them if they would rather find someone from their own species.

Overwhelmed with the situation, Y/N had to sit down for a while. It was just so strange that Nete had changed so much, that he got angry so quickly and when confronted he took off without paying attention to anyone. It also seemed to her like he was avoiding her. Every time she tried to talk to him about it, he just blocked and left her standing. Moreover, only a few words were spoken between them. Y/N was worried about her friend, because it certainly wasn't his way of dealing with her and the people around him.

While Y/N was still wondering what could have happened, Neteyam walked past his family's hut. His parents noticed his presence and his mother Neytiri called out to him. "Neteyam! Will you come join us for a moment?" He turned and walked toward his mother. His father was waiting in the hut and asked him to sit down. "Neteyam, we need to talk to you." Nete thought at first that his parents wanted to address him on his quick-tempered behavior, but the following sentence from Neytiri shocked him. "Ma Nete, we already know you're grown up now and we think it's about time you find yourself a mate" Then Jake started to continue the conversation. "What your mother is trying to tell you is that we never see you with other girls from the clan and just wanted to carefully ask if you have already thought about the subject" Neteyam was stunned and embarrassed by the statements that his mouth hung open like a fish. Of course he didn't hang around other girls when his desired mate Y/N was right in front of him. But how should he explain this now? Especially now towards his mother, who always let the two humans know that she only tolerated them because her husband wanted it that way. He had no interest in others, he wanted alone only Y/N. Since their eldest son didn't say anything, the parents began to continue talking.

"You must know Velai, right? Ninat's daughter. She's a good girl and a good huntress. She would suit you. She is also very family-oriented. Velai is very affectionate with her siblings and the other children" He tried to imagine in his inner eye what it would be like to be with Velai, but in his mind could only imagine the human girl Y/N, with whom he grew up. The girl he knew as well as the rainforests of Pandora. Even though at the moment it didn't seem that way and the relationship was just beginning to crumble, he would fight for Y/N to choose him. She would in the very end become his mate, not some girl of the Omatikaya, not Velai, he just wanted Y/N. And whatever it would take to convince his mother and father that he had fallen in love with one of the Sky People, he would do it. Even if it seemed impossible.

Y/N went in search of him during the time Neteyam was staying with his parents. On the way, she passed by his family's home and heard people inside. Maybe he was hiding here, she thought. She walked towards the curtain and that was when she heard the voices of Neytiri and Jake. Y/N got curious and walked closer. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on them, but she just couldn't help it. And when she heard the words "Neteyam", " mate", "Ninat's daughter" she stayed rooted to the spot. Shock spread through her and she swallowed a big lump. They were talking about Nete finding a mate, since he was mature enough. She didn’t know how to react, it was none of her business to judge, but it hurt inside her. The encounter in the clearing had been her missed chance to tell him about her feelings. She touched him to show him that she liked him. But maybe her intentions were not clear enough and he just thought she was too curious. Tears came to her eyes when she noticed that Neteyam said nothing to his parents. The silence for her was an agreement on `Teyam's part that he would accept the proposal and wanted to meet Velai. When she noticed a rustling in the Sully's home, she quickly took off so no one would catch her eavesdropping and that she was there at all. Y/N ran to her special place, the clearing. She sat down and more and more tears welled up in her eyes. After some time she got up from her huddled state and saw that the Atokirina were gathering around her again. They floated weightlessly around her, some resting on her head. She looked up and saw that one of the woodsprites was moving toward her hand. She played with it, giving it momentum with her hand, it would fly back up and then it came back towards her. She sat there longer, enjoying the presence of the Atokirina. It was getting dark and the little creatures decided to leave Y/N. A thought came into her head that it was unusual for the woodsprites to come to this place. She had never seen the jellyfish-like creatures here before and she had been coming to this clearing for years. They appeared only the first time when she and Neteyam sat here together and now a second time.

Was it another sign from Eywa? This can't be a coincidence, Y/N thought to herself. And then she made a decision. It was surely a sign from Eywa, it simply couldn't be anything else. She wanted to show her that it was the right thing to fight for Neteyam and to show him that she loved him. She then gathered all her courage and decided to show Neteyam and his family that she would be a worthy mate for him. No matter what she had to do for that, she would do everything in her power for it. The hardest part, however, would be showing Neytiri that even a human could be good enough for her son. With Jake she was less worried, because she could still play the you-were-a-human-once-too card and maybe convince him. She wanted to go on her way again and wiped her face to get rid of the tears that had almost dried. Now began her battle of approval.

As if enough wasn't already happening in everyone's lives, now it came to the worst. Jake came back to the clan one day with terrible news. The Sky People had come to Pandora again. This time they were said to be stronger in weapons and machinery and also in adapting to the habitat by creating a new kind of dreamwalker. The RDA had set the goal of taking over Pandora once and for all, so they could finally continue their plan to exploit the planet. Jake called a crisis gathering, with the other Omatikaya warriors and the rest of the humans, to formulate a strategic plan for how they would proceed. He had hoped all these years that the danger was finally gone and his family and clan were finally free from the evil humans' machinations.

The meeting with the councils took hours, if not even days, everything had to be planned strategically, because if it was up to Jake's gut feeling, that he was certain the RDA would track him down. Now that he also had family and was the clan chief, he simply had too many points of attack to get to him. And he didn't want to risk losing his family because of himself.

As the Olo'eyktan, Jake finally decided that they would relocate the clan, to the Hallelujah Mountains. There they built a camp with the humans, which they named High Camp. It now became the temporary home of the Omatikaya.

The children of the Sullys and also Neytiri herself didn't like the idea of leaving their home, the forest and their Hometree behind, but the safety of all outweighed their own feelings.

In the new home everything was different, it was dark between the mountains and there were hardly any luminous plants like those to be found in the forest. The most affected was Tuk Tuk, who didn't want to leave the forest at all, but her mother reassured her that it would only be a temporary measure and that they wouldn't stay here forever. She could still play with her siblings in the forest. Because of the Omatikaya's quick adaptability, the High Camp was quickly set up and made home. Y/N also helped vigorously with the new setup. She supported everyone as much as she could. It was, after all, her second family. But for Jake, this was not all. Jake was not a person who would hide in the shadows, no, he would fight as he had done back then.

In the time of new beginnings, things between Y/N and Neteyam continued to crumble. He spent more time with Velai at his parents' request, even though he didn't really want to. Sometimes it got to the point where they ignored each other, and now that the Sky People were coming back, they both had a short temper from all the tension. In addition, Jake fully involved his sons in the plans, so there was hardly any time left for the two of them. Y/N did everything she could to stay close to Neteyam, even if it meant putting herself in dangerous situations. But today she was not a part of it.

To prevent the RDA from exploiting Pandora further, Jake decided to lead an ongoing strategic guerrilla operation aimed at weakening the RDA supply lines. In this mission, a raid on a maglev train, the Olo'eyktan had decided to send his two sons Neteyam and Lo'ak as spotters. They had been told to fly over the area with their Ikrans and let their father know what the situation was like from above. But as Lo'ak always was, namely rebellious, he wanted to prove to himself and his father that he could fight as well as the other warriors in the clan. He tried to persuade his brother to come to the battlefield with him. Nete, however, didn't think much of his plan and told his little brother, "Don't do that. Dad would skin us" But since Lo'ak was so stubborn, he didn't let go of his plan and flew down with his Ikran. "Lo'ak come back here" Nete called after him, but he didn't hear it anymore, Nete let out an annoyed yell and then followed his brother. While now Lo'ak with his big brother in tow disobeyed their father, and now stood down on the battlefield, more and more RDA forces in Kestrel gunships were coming to them. Even though Lo'ak was initially convinced that he could handle a Sky People firearm, since Jake had "taught" him, he was overwhelmed by the brutality of the people. Neteyam did everything to protect his little brother, but in the end he overestimated himself and Nete was wounded.

Jake, however, came to the rescue and took his children back to High Camp, the flight there was in complete silence. Y/N and the others were more than stressed out and prayed to Eywa that everyone would make it back safely. When she spotted the Ikran of `Teyam she notified the others and they ran towards the arriving warriors. They were all very worried.

Jake pulled his two sons along by the scruff of the neck and the others gathered around them. "What were you thinking again, Lo'ak," he hissed at him. "You have put your brother and others in great danger" No one dared speak a word. "How dare you two disobey my orders again?" Neteyam took the blame again and said it was his fault. "Dad, it was my fault, I shouldn't have let Lo'ak fly away like that."

"I really expected something different from you in a situation like this, Neteyam. You really let me down" Jake was even angrier than before and the people around him didn't help to keep his rage in check either. "Kiri, help your grandmother with the injured".

"He's hurt," Kiri tried to explain to her adoptive father. But he ignored her comment. When Tuk heard what Kiri had said, she took the arm from her other brother and looked to see if he was also carrying any visible injuries. Jake just shook his head and Kiri stood her ground staying by Nete‘s site. "What the hell has gotten into you guys lately" Blinded again Jake didn't notice that his oldest was really hurt. Now Neytiri tried to intervene as well. "Jake your son is hurt" She tried to calm her mate down. When Y/N heard what Neytiri said, she jumped to Neteyam's side like Tuk before and checked him for wounds too, even if they were only small scratches. "Go patch him up," Jake gave up when he realized it was no use continuing to give his sons a lecture. The scurry of the Sully family dispersed and Kiri and Y/N helped Neteyam to Mo'at's tent. Lo'ak was still standing in the same spot. He had really hoped that his father would see his potential in him for once. But he hadn't expected the fight to turn out like this either. "Get that crap out of your face," his father said at the end before he left, and Lo'ak wiped the war paint off his face with the back of his hand.

"Nete please don't ever do something like that again," Y/N said to him worriedly as she held his arm tightly to guide him. "I had to protect my brother"

"I know you did, but it could have ended so much worse for you. I could have lost you" His heart soared at her words. Her concern for him made him happy and he tried to cheer her up, not liking the sad look on her face. "I am your mighty warrior after all. I'll be fine" All the encounters from the last few days, when they were almost at enmity with each other and hardly spent any time together, seemed to have faded away. Feeling her closeness, her warmth again. He wanted most of all to take her in his arms again and tell her that she doesn't have to worry about him, as long as he could look into her beautiful eyes again at the end. But unfortunately nothing came of it, because Kiri began to supply him with an ointment, which burned strongly on his skin. Y/N contorted her face as she saw Neteyam in pain and then took his hand in hers and brought it to her face to show him that she was with him. No matter what. And he realized again that he would want to spend more time with her.

After the event, Neteyam was instructed not to take his eyes off his brother and so he had to come along again, although he had actually imagined spending the day with Y/N, but she was nowhere to be found. They wanted to explore the forest together today and since Tuk would have been alone again, she simply came along. Lo'ak was less enthusiastic about this and made after her in a high voice that was supposed to resemble Tuk's "If you don't let me come to the battlefield, I'm telling mom" and waved his hands around. Tuk, however, just stuck her tongue out at him and continued to hop around after Kiri. They walked around for some time, occasionally encountering small animals like the fan lizards. Tuk enjoyed disturbing the resting lizards and ran towards them. They got scared and she marveled as these luminous magenta discs floated away to a safe spot.

During the playful venture in the forest they came across a place that Spider recognized as the place where Jake and his father fought. Lo‘ak then decides to explore it, knowing again it was against Jakes rules. Neteyam was not amused by his brothers behavior but as soon as he wanted to tell the others that it wasn’t a good idea to go there, they had already scurried off. Unbeknownst to them, they were not alone. Miles Quaritch, now in his new Na‘Vi body and with his 1st Recom squad in tow were reconnoitering the same spot.

Lo'ak noticed them first and stopped his siblings, gesturing for them to hide in the bushes. He and Neteyam then decided to radio their father about their whereabouts. However, a skirmish ensues and the Recom squad captures the Sully children before they can get a response from their father.

taglist: @sssspencerrr @mashiromochi @welcomebackfelicia @byunpum @cedeni-beanie @fanboyluvr @yourbloodyqueen @eywas-heir @hwang-jully @padfootsvixen @dreamergirljen @jordynmrowe @ozisens @devil-on-acid

#atwow #atwow imagines #atwow x reader #avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #jake sully #kiri x platonic!reader #miles socorro x platonic!reader #neteyam #neteyam imagine #neteyam imagines #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you

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ryoshudoodles · 23 days

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The Plushū Diaries

This is a long post about the plushie I made as a beginner and just me venting about the process. Just skip this is you don't like long posts. Also I will probably mix up UK and US English a lot here. The usual Internet learning experience.

Canto 1- I can (not) make a plushie myself

So... As you may gather from the existence of this blog, I love Ryōshū a very normal amount. And like many other PM fans, I wanted a plushie of my best girl.

Two problems arise.

Independently made plushies made by commission are EXPENSIVE (For a very valid reason, this things take AGES to make and require a lot of work and skill.).

And

All the "Mass" produced ones by indie designers that I saw had animal ears or features, which I don't really like.

So, Sunday at around 10:00 pm, I, in all my wisdom, say to myself "I want it! So I'll make it!" I already had some material from a previous failed attempt, so might as well use them.

I dug up the doll skeleton and the body I had and stuffed that thing. By then it was already late and I had to work on Monday so, to bed I went.

Canto 2- The Real Start

By morning on the following day, I had already gotten over the Idea of making a plushie myself. Too much work. Too little skill. Like any other good little ADHD demon, I am allergic to completing my own projects and I jump from new idea to new idea too quickly to get anything done.

So, imagine my shock when at 11:00 pm I get that little itch to just make the thing. That little night owl brain magic that happens when everyone else is asleep and you are just now deciding to be productive.

So I grab the body, my embroidery thread and a bathtub of coffee and I just started.

Luckily I already had a pattern that a friend printed out for me two years ago. But then, the mistakes also started.

Mistake 1- Improv

I had no idea what I wanted to make. I had a design that I had painted In photoshop before but I didn't have that materials nor skills for that. So I made a simpler one on the spot. I don't own a printer. I don't have transfer paper. So... like a person with a very aesthetically pleasing smooth brain, I just drew the design STRAIGHT ON THE FABRIC with BRIGHT red pen.

Mistake 2 - The bright red pen

At the start it wasn't much of an issue just something to mark the design because I don't have a tearaway stabilizer.

By the end of this saga, those smooth clear lines had bled SO MUCH I could no longer tell the difference between te guide and random stains. Oh! And you can also see the guidelines from the outside of the doll. Cool.

Mistake, the third - The felt hair

This doesn't seem like a mistake, but trust me, It will haunt the narrative.

Mistake forever after - Hubris

It took... around 1 hour to line up everything correctly on the embroidery ring? Why? Because I am stupid, that's why.

During this first day I decided that I didn't need to use pins. I could just put it on the ring by eyeballing it. How bad can it be?

I was a fool. There's a reason why professionals use them, and there's a reason why some people sew some pieces temporarily during certain steps of the process before finally attaching them together. Pins truly are unsung heroes.

Canto 3- The unembroidered

So... embroidery. Embroidery is hard. Symmetrical embroidery is hard. Symmetrical embroidery with bleeding guidelines and no stabilizer is HARD. Symmetrical embroidery with bleeding guidelines, no stabilizer and you are a total beginner is maddening.

I watched someone do it by hand on YouTube before and I tried to mimic the process as much as I could. It didn't help much. Youtube tutorials can only do so much to compensate my lack of experience.

By the time I had done one eye I was already seeing problems. My stitches were all scattered to the four winds. They were all going in different directions. Some of them were too far apart or too close to others. The lines in the back of the doll were piling up and there were more knots in the thread than in your average omegaverse fic.

I went colour by colour. First black since I needed it to line the hair and it was the most used colour, then white just for the little highlights and finally red.

(Funny thing, the number of this red thread of this brand is 666 wich is kinda funny for miss hellscreen over here.)

After the red thread it finally started to look kinda decent (by beginner standards)

Canto 4 - Revenge of the felt hair

After all the embroidery was done it was finally time to get her off the ring and sew the parts together.

For those unaware, the regular soft plushie material, Minky, is really lightweight and very thin. Felt... isn't thin. And when you are sewing a plushie head with may parts and layers, all those millimeters of fabric pile up really quickly. One layer of felt is easy to pierce with a needle. Five layers? Not so much. Several needles were broken in the process of joining the front of the head with the back. I do not own a sewing machine. I did all of this shit by hand.

Thank god for the tetanus vaccine. When I say this little creature has my blood, sweat and tears, I MEAN IT.

The curse of the felt hair didn't end there.

Now that the head was done, it was time to stuff it.

Naturally, I had to rip parts of the stuffing to get it inside the head and around the skeleton. This sent bits and pieces of the thing flying everywhere. My room is FILTHY. And the felt hair got the worst of it. All those little dusts and microfibers stuck to it like a fly in a web. As I write this I am still trying to rip out bits of stuffing without damaging the felt. It is horrible. My girl is DIRTY.

(Also, plushie heads take WAY more stuffing than I thought. Holy shit.)

Finally, on the last day, it was time to attach the body to the head and sew the back of the hair. (I should have done that before but... more layers of felt. Broken needles. You know... nheeeeeee)

So, with a lot of fear in my heart I ladder stitched those bastards together and mocked up a decent enough pattern for the back of the hair. And just like that.... she is done.

Canto 5- The Plushie Defining

So... what did I learn?

Use pins. Stitch things temporarily with an obvious visible line that you can cut out after and test things before committing to a permanent stitch. If you are a beginner, like me, and are afraid to sew pieces together because you don't want to ruin your embroidered parts that you spent SO LONG working on, do this before.

Fuck felt.

Don't use a bright red pen.

Mess up. Make your plushie. Make it ugly. If you hate making bodies like me, buy one made and practice the head. Despite everything, I love my asymmetrical girl a lot. Like... I made this little bastard. She is MINE and I made her. This never stops being magical. It's a nice feeling.

And I did it without specific materials.

Some cheap threads, a body you can probably make too, some felt I found at the discount bin and random needles. That was all. No tearaway stabilizer, no sewing machine, no printer, no embroidery machine. The minky fabric is the only thing that was more of an investment. The rest is pretty accessible.

Do you know that post that says "Everything worth doing is worth doing poorly." Yeah, that applies to artistic projects. Go for it! Just... don't start with something hard like a human... Christ sake that was a nightmare.

I'm probably still gonna get a better plushie of her in the future, but for now, this is my baby.

Goodnight Tri-state area.

#not a doodle #long post

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lemonluvgirl · 6 months

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The Mockingjay Cries at Midnight

So, here I am again with another weird Everlark Christmas-themed story. This time I decided to go way-waaay out of the box and try a Christmas/mystery/thriller. Yeah. I know. Should be fun lol. Very festive. Hope you like the first 2 chapters.

Chapter One: The Journalist and Slippery Slope

The winding roads were icy and seemingly endless. Not another car was in sight on the lonely stretch of highway he was traveling. His legs had lost feeling from continuous driving, and his fingers were starting to feel a bit numb too, but not from lack of movement. It was the seeping cold that seemed to pervade everything, despite the heater being turned up to full blast in his old Jeep Cherokee. Bing Crosby’s velvety voice was “Pa-rum, Pum, Pum, Pum,”ing along on the radio, and Peeta Mellark was humming along off-key in a desperate effort to stay awake.

He had been driving for too long, he knew that, but he was very near reaching his destination. He was used to going to uncomfortable lengths to get the story he was after. He had done this before many times. Wisconsin for instance, he drove 9 hours in the rain to make it to Steven’s Point, and it had been hell on his back but he got there, and he got his story. They had to run second and third prints to keep up with the demand. And in Villa Ridge Missouri, he had to stake out an abandoned stretch of road for two days, but he got the story on that one too.

This one would be just like all the rest. A little discomfort, a little lost sleep, but ultimately worth it in the long run once he printed a full expose about the mysterious murders that rocked a little no-name town fifty years ago.

“I am a poor boy too…” His voice warbled tiredly as his eyes searched for the mile marker that would tell him where to turn, but there was a steady sleet building outside and it was getting harder and harder to see in the worsening weather.

He was looking for number 113 and going by the map he was forced to use after he lost GPS service, it was bound to be around here somewhere.

“I have no gift to bring, Pa-rum, Pum, Pum, Pum” He had already passed exit 18 aways back. That meant 113 was coming up any minute now.

“That’s fit to give a—shit!” He caught sight of the reflective marker with the numbers 113 and tried to turn, half a second too late and much too sharp, but the tires couldn’t find purchase on the slick road on such short notice.

The car started to hydroplane.

“Fuck, FUCK!” Thinking quickly, he did what all the experts said was best, which was to turn into the spin.

But he was going too fast. The row of snow covered trees that lined the highway like silent guardians blurred and drew closer in his vision.

Suddenly he couldn’t remember what was so important that he drove out to the middle of nowhere a few days before Chrsitmas to find. Surely it wasn’t this. A quick and violent end on an icy road with no one who even knew where he was this time of night.

Only his editor knew where he was headed and she probably wouldn’t report him missing for days.

All of these thoughts flew into his mind and flew out just as quickly, as fast as the old jeep spun out of control and headed for the treeline.

The last thing he saw was what looked like a woman.

A woman in a faded ruffle dress, with long dark hair, standing on the side of the road. Almost close enough to touch. Time seemed to slow-and stop altogether as she held his gaze. She had a sad, forlorn look in her large brown eyes, that were almost pleading with him. It looked like she was trying to say something, but he couldn’t make it out. It seemed important if the desperate look she was giving him was anything to go by, and he thought that look would be impressed upon him forever should he live past this terrible night.

Then the car made another revolution, and she was taken out of his sight.

Quicker than a blink everything was back to the breakneck speed of reality as the car careened completely out of control. Then there was the sound of breaking glass, the impact of wood on metal, and the sharp flash of pain that radiated through every inch of him.

And then all was darkness.

Chapter 2: The Angel with the Permanant Frown

The beep-beep-beep-beeeep of her minitor almost caused her to knock over her peppermint tea. Almost, but Katniss Everdeen caught the tipping cup at the last second and righted it. She unclipped the mini-monitor on her belt loop, nicknamed ‘minitor’ for short by all the local EMT’s and held it up as the device beeped its special four note tone again. It was the tone reserved for immediately life-threatening situations and it meant she didn’t have a minute to lose.

She grabbed her truck keys off the top of her desk, tossed on her coat, didn’t bother with her hat or gloves, and threw open the door to the office of the local quick-mart.

“Sae! I got a call!” She hollered as she rushed past the woman ringing up customers at the counter.

“This time of night?” The grey haired older woman asked in surprise as Katniss flew by.

“Rules are whoever gets the call has to head to the garage! Call Darius to cover my shift if you need extra security! Or Rory if need someone to help close up!” She shouted over her shoulder as she ran out, the chime of the bell ringing loudly behind her as the door snicked shut.

Panem county was one of the smallest counties in the continental United States. The small townships of the Seam, Hob, and Panem Town proper, or just Town, as the locals called it barely drumed up a population of 4,000 residents combined. The only EMTs the county could afford to keep were volunteer ones, and they didn’t have regular shifts or wait at the station like their big-city counter parts. When someone called 911, dispatch paged everyone within a certain radius of the emergency. Special pre-recorded tones caused their minitors to beep loudly, alerting them to the emergency.

They had different tones for ‘urgent response’, ‘potentially life-threatening’, and ‘immediately life-threatening’ situations. The call she received was the former. Luckily everyone at dispatch knew where to find her on a Tuesday night.

She usually picked up a couple shifts a week working security down at old Sae’s quick-mart. The nights were long and tedious and she spent the majority of them watching the security cameras in the office on the look out for shop-lifters or teens trying to buy beer with fake IDs. Nothing serious, at least, nothing she couldn’t handle with a stern look and few sharp words.

But this—this was a not not nothing. She hadn’t had a call this serious…maybe ever.

Working at Sae’s put her within a mile of the garage so that meant she was going to be one of the first responders to make it there. She needed one other person with her before they could leave, as per the rules. More licsenced EMTs could show up and could ride along but they would have to get there before the ambulance took off.

Her train of thought refocused as she pulled up to the old garage that housed the only ambulance and two working fire trucks that serviced the entire county. She pulled into the closest spot and hopped out down from her truck, ice crunching beneath her boots as she hurried into the garage.

She was indeed the first one to arrive and she busied herself with pulling on her EMT uniform, getting the ambulance ready to go, making sure the tires were inflated, and chained properly for ice and snow, and turning on the engine and checking that the tank was full-which it was, thankfully.

Just as she had finished taking a quick inventory of the medical supplies in the backseat she heard a voice call out from the entrance.

“Always first to answer the call huh, Catnip?” The voice of her oldest and best friend, Gale Hawthorne rang out clearly amidst the rumble of the ambulance’s engine. Of course he would be the second one to the garage.

“Early bird, and all that yada yada,” She replied as she shut the back doors and strode out to the front. Gale was already shrugging off his old coat and pulling on his EMT coveralls.

“Hurry up will ya? Any longer and the stragglers will start to show and then we’ll have to let them ride with.” She shouted as she tossed the keyes to the bus over to him before she pulled open the passenger side and slid in. She didn’t really dislike the other EMTs but her and Gale had been friends and partners for years. They had a system and they knew each other like the backs of their own hands. She preferred working with him if she couldn’t work alone, and adding other EMTs just complicated things.

Gale caught the keyes smoothly, like she knew he would, and he sent her cocky grin before he followed suit and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Didn’t think you’d be up for letting me drive.” He commented as he strapped in and adjusted the mirror to fit his above average height.

“I wanna be first out when we get on the scene.” She said quickly as she pulled on her seatbelt and then turned on the ambulance radio. It was programmed to tune into the local police frequency and there was already some chatter going on about an accident out on the highway.

“‘Course you do.” Gale said with a shake of his head. She ignored him in favor of listening to the information the dispatcher was relaying.

Katniss’ grey eyes narrowed as she heard more details come through.

Jeep Grand Cherokee 1998 crashed out on the highway—around mile marker 113—One driver spotted inside the vehicle—unconscious

“Hurry your ass up!” She hissed at her partner when she heard the last descriptor. Gale shot her a look, but she didn’t even glance at him. She was staring ahead at the road that waited outside the garage as if she could will herself onto it faster. Without further prodding Gale flipped the lights and the ambulance siren on with a flick of his fingers and then they were off, practically peeling out of the garage in the next second. Under different circumstances she might have chewed him out for reckless driving but the roads were practically abandoned tonight and they needed to get on the scene fast.

Besides, she couldn’t shake the antsy feeling she had since she’d gotten the call. There was something inside of her that was telling her that she just needed to get there as soon as possible.

The drive out to the highway usually took fifteen minutes. Gale got them there in nine.

The ambulance finally came to a stop just a few yards past the mile 113 marker.

Up ahead she could make out the mangled up shape of a jeep that had gone head to head with an old spruce and lost. Unfortunately they weren’t in an ideal position to get the injured party inside the ambulance unless Gale repositioned the vehicle.

“Hey you said you wanted to be first on the scene.” Gale replied with a shrug as he moved to undo his seatbelt. Katniss shook her head at him.

“Stay put and back this thing up properly. Doors first!” She bit out tersely as she undid her belt and cracked open her door. She hopped down and shut the door closed on Gale’s complaints, ignoring him completely as she pulled her EMT pack higher on her shoulder and started to march forward.

Sleet was still coming down heavily, and the road was slippery under her boots but her feet pulled her forward as quickly and surely as a lodestone is drawn to a magnet.

Before she knew it she was right outside the driver side door, looking in on the man who had been behind the wheel. His face was turned toward her and she could distinguish his featured clearly.

He was young, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, he had ashy blond hair that fell in waves over his forehead. She could tell one other thing about him immediately by just looking—he was damn lucky.

The airbag in his car had properly deployed, from her vantage point she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was knocked unconscious, but not dead. The airbag and the seatbelt he was wearing had most likely saved his life, even though he drove an older model jeep and that sometimes meant that air bags didn’t always work like they should. The only visible injury she could see on him was a gash on his forehead.

She needed to get him out of the car though, so she could assess the rest of him, check his torso and legs, but he looked kind big. Not as tall as Gale, but broad and stocky, with wide shoulders that were going to be a bitch to manover out of the mashed up wreck of his car if she guessed correctly.

She tried tapping on his window to get his attention. It would be easier to move him if he was conscious, also he could unlock the doors instead of them having to shatter the window or the windshield and pull him out. But the man in the car didn’t stir. She tapped louder, as she noticed the car’s radio was amazingly still going and it was still playing music.

Very familiar music.

Earth stood hard as iron

Water like a stone

Snow had fallen

Snow on snow on snow

In the bleak midwinter

Long, long ago

The version playing was a little known and even less played solo sung by a local artist. It brought back the sounds and stories of her childhood. It brought back the knife edge of pain and loss. That beautiful, effortless voice that sailed over the notes and floated down to mesh with the music was a sound so steeped in memory that for a moment she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, she was so caught off guard.

Then there was a pop and a whoosh, the sound of the air bag deflating, and with it the radio sputtered out and died. The disturbance finally seemed to arouse the unconscious driver.

The bluest eyes she’d ever seen blinked open and locked on her. She stood there staring right back at him, caught up in the bizareness of the situation.

Then her training kicked in.

She knocked on the window again and said in her most stern but calm voice, “Sir, you’ve been in an car accident. I need you to unlock your door and roll down the window so I can help you.”

The man stared at her, in confusion for a second, but then his left hand reached out to do as she had asked. The first thing he said to her when the window came down was not what she was expecting.

“Am I dead? Are you an angel? Do all angels frown like that?”

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sillyrabbit81 · 4 months

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Ohhhhh Any and all information on number 1, of course.

And then number 2 and 8, if you don't mind.

I read Sherlock and I was like 'yay'. Then I saw 'shy' and I went 'awwww'. Then I saw 'sex worker' and I almost fainted... So... jdfkjdfksldkfjsf

Okay so I'm going to just go straight under a cut and get into it.

The Brotherhood... Well its a damn saga... There are about 5 titles in my docs with some variation of TFWB Ch 18 because I have rewritten the start so many times. But I think I have finally settled on a beginning, I have an ending of the chapter written... just need to get the smut out but that is a where the real struggle begins.

Here's a sneak peek: (still rough and not completely edited)

Apparently, a handshake wasn’t enough for Sy and he drew Marshall into a tight hug, of which I was in the middle of. I had not expected to be in a Brother sandwich tonight. The idea struck me as both immensely funny and yet arousing. I bit my lip as I turned my head back into Sy’s chest and tried to focus on not laughing and not how fucking amazing it felt to be held by both men. My thoughts went back to the first night I had met the Brothers, to that dingy, cheap motel room and the shower with shitty water pressure. Back to my first sexual feelings about the Brothers. At the time, the thoughts were fantasy, I never actually thought that’s what I would ever want. But now… All too quickly Marshall took a step back. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want that. I reached blindly behind me and found Marshall’s arm, I gripped it tightly and wrapped it around my waist before I snaked a hand around both Brother’s backs. For a moment both Brothers were frozen in place. I wanted so badly to know what they were thinking, but I couldn’t make myself lift my head and meet their eyes. So I just held them tight to me, Sy’s chest against my chest, Marshall’s chest pressed against my back. The silence dragged on, neither moved for what felt like forever, I don’t think either of them took a breath.

Number 2 is an ask from my milestone game from nearly a year ago... I have so many of those to do and I feel terrible about how long its taken me. It's also had a few iterations, and is really only in point form, but its about a woman who Sherlock met on a case and she made him pay her for her time. He keeps coming back to her with more questions and she starts to suspect that he doesn't actually need to know the answers to the questions and that he might to be too shy to admit he'd like to use her services... its not completely fleshed out yet.

Number 8 is basically the old trope of being caught breaking rules and being busted by August and he makes a bargain with you to keep his silence... Its also not very fleshed out on paper, only a few paragraphs and disjointed dialogue, but its a common fantasy in my head 🤣

I don't know if its what you expected, but yeah, thats what I've got.

❤️ Rabbit

#ask sillyrabbit81 #raccooneyedrebel #wip game

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throughtrialbyfire · 8 months

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WIP Wednesday lets goooooooo

man, i'm glad it's wednesday!! it's been a tough one on my end, but it's the best day of the week, and i've been having a blast reading through/looking at everyone's wips today!!

thank you to the phenomenally skilled and talented @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @dirty-bosmer @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @umbracirrus and @thequeenofthewinter for tagging me!! i love seeing what you're all up to this week, expect unhinged tags on your works soon!! <3333

i'm passing the beacon to @gilgamish @orfeoarte @caliblorn @aphocryphas @totally-not-deacon @wispstalk @your-talos-is-problematic and anyone who'd like to hop in!!

this is from chapter 25 of "Cycle of the Serpent" and fresh off the presses! this is shaping up to be the longest chapter since chapter 10 at 3,132 words as of right now, and this snippet contains most of it. of course it's going to go through the editing ringer before it gets posted, but i'm pretty satisfied with how it's turned out!

the dragonborn trio is tackling fort hraagstad in hopes of acquiring an imperial pardon, and things take a bit of a turn…

have fun. ;3

quick content warning for canon-typical violence

The first to fall. The first to bleed. Wyndrelis watched the arrow make its mark squarely in the jugular of the nearest bandit. Clean. Quick. A hunter's trained kill. He watched another fall, this time an arrow to the chest. This time, not so quick, and another did them in. Emeros slid forward in the snow and up the incline, finding the path and his footing along it. Wyndrelis followed, Athenath rushing behind, swinging their blade at the first bandit to get near enough to him to try an attack. One. Two. Three, now. Wyndrelis kept count. The sick crack of a skull against his summoned mace added four to the tally. Another cadaver. He slipped along the mud and felt Athenath wrench a fist into the back of his armor, the same armor they'd snagged off the bandits in Bleak Falls Barrow. Jarl Balgruuf's gift was very kind, the armor of Whiterun, but they were in Haafingar, and they were no guards. So, his gifted armor lay in a chest in the Winking Skeever, finally off their backs, along with any items they wished to spare the hell of battle. As soon as he was on his feet properly again, he felt the brunt of a shield crash into him. Wyndrelis barely had enough time to get his wits about him when he flopped over onto his back, the bandit above him about to crash one enormous boot into his chest when Emeros drew his dagger, the ivory handle stark white against the dull grey forts stone, driving it hard into the neck of their foe. He clasped Wyndrelis' hand and pulled him from the mud before he continued, firing arrows into the bandits scrambling along the high walls of the fort. Five. He hissed in pain and ran a Restoration spell through his shoulder, the muscles unclenching, the tension melting away, magicka running down his veins like High Rock chocolates under a hot sun, the kind he'd shared long ago with someone whose name he refused to speak aloud. He shut the memory off as quickly as he could, looking up, watching Athenath walk backwards along the higher pathway of Fort Hraagstad, a bandit inching closer and closer. "Come on, little elf," called the bandit, "you're good as gutted now." Athenath narrowed his gaze, stray curls forcing themselves into his vision. He did not reply, breaths coming out in shaky, harrowing gasps. Wyndrelis watched. His chest tightened. Something was deeply wrong.

Emeros noticed before he did, as the moment the Dunmer spun to communicate this, Emeros had flown halfway across the courtyard and up the walkway, curling his fist into the bandit's cheekbone. Athenath shoved himself forward and drove his sword deep into the armored stomach of the bandit, and once he could sense no life in them, he pulled it off, boot to their hipbone. "Gods," Athenath spat, Emeros' attention drawn to their surroundings. Six. Wyndrelis waited. He listened to the hiss and whistle of the winds, the waving of the pines in the breeze, the snow tufting off the surface of the stone and powdering his figure in the muddy courtyard. He didn't want to think of what the mud contained now. He dismissed his spectral mace. Holding up his hand, he cast Detect Life. Emeros and Athenath glowed. He looked around, scrutinizing every corner of the courtyard and hoping for no signs, and when none came, he breathed a shaking sigh of relief. "Come down, let me treat your wounds before we go further." "What further?" Athenath shot back, throat creaking slightly, "I thought we were done." Wyndrelis shook his head, gesturing with his thumb to the doorway that no doubt led further into the fort. "This way. Now, come down."

Wounds treated, the trio gave a long, hesitant look to the door leading down into the fort. Wyndrelis, reaching for his corporeal mace, furrowed his brow. It wasn't ideal, he couldn't funnel his magicka into it to make it stronger, to ensure it lasted, but it was better than using up his magicka in the event they ran into any more bandits. Which, of course, he was sure that they would. Athenath leaned against the door. "We ready?" He whispered. Wyndrelis looked to Emeros, who nocked another arrow. "Open the door slowly, I think we need to take some precautions." He watched as the Altmer shuffled to the side, kneeling down, and slowly pressing their hand to the door. Wyndrelis stood to the side of the stone, heart hammering in his chest. He'd never been a fighter. He was a mage, a scholar, moreso. This was in complete opposition to how he liked to handle his problems, but it was all in the name of being able to traverse Skyrim safely. So, he would fight. As soon as the door parted, Emeros spotted the figure of another bandit, and his arrow found purchase in the man's skull. He motioned for the others to follow him, which they did, creeping low to the ground and carefully in the stone dark. Another fell, up the stairs. And the moment a third bandit became alerted to the commotion, Emeros took them down, Wyndrelis clutching his mace. The dark encroached on them, summoning all the anxiety in the mage's body, nothing capable of shielding him from the emerging fears that boiled in his heart. He kept his form steady, his breath even, but the chill from the outside could not be eliminated by the burning hearth on the lower level. All it took for his fears to be validated was the door swinging open beneath them, and someone spotting the bodies. The call for more bandits, more of their kin, to come running and to search every crevice for the trio.

In an instant, chaos erupted, the three elves hopping from the lower level and sprinting out the door, deer in flight from a lion, the cold shattering against them as they flung themselves down the stairs of the other door, a prison of sorts, and through it's winding depths. The twisting, the turning, the thunder of feet against stairs, the shouts of people calling for their intruders to meet the end here, to fall into Aetherius here, here of all places- Wyndrelis sprinted behind his friends, Emeros looking back- for what? Keep running, Wyndrelis mentally hissed as he followed. The churning the rolling the dark shadows meant to cloak them doing nothing, nothing, gods damn it all, they had been cornered. Gods damn it all, he wanted to do something, anything, petrified, the stench of rot coming to him through the prison's iron bars, his spine now to one cell containing the half-rotten remains of some poor soul he was soon to join. Dead end. Dead end. It was a gods damned dead end. He felt his spine against cold metal through his armor. Athenath to one side. Emeros to another. Outnumbered, how could they take down this many and expect to survive? The steps, slow and readied, down the stairs echoed in the room. The bandits knew that they had their prey in their clutches. No need to rush things. What could three little elves do? What good were they in this fight? Wyndrelis inhaled deeply. He exhaled. His heart thundered in his chest and his eyes cast sharp, terrified glances around the room. He met Athenath's round, panicked eyes. Emeros' own, stone-cold, dread in his stomach as he tried to figure out just how much time they had until the group was either eliminated or would face one of their hardest battles yet. The courtyard had offered open space. Better odds. This offered nothing but a grave. A grave. Wyndrelis tightened a fist so hard his nails dug into his palm. If only he had that book, if only it hadn't been taken from him the moment he became a prisoner, but he didn't and he wasn't able to get it back yet, he didn't even know where it was, if he did he might be able to get them out of this mess, but no. No, no, he knew there were other options. And as much as he didn't like it, he knew what he had to do. He gave Athenath one last look. Emeros, too. Calm settled over the Dunmer's features. He pushed magicka into his palm. The fist glowered a purple, the scowl of a work that he'd too-long left dormant. The College of Whispers had given him much. His fondness for the group and their cynosures did not outweigh his experiences, but it had given him something that no one, not the law, not the gods, and not his terror could take from him.

#skyrim fic #tes v #tes v fic #tesblr #tes v ocs #skyrim ocs #fort hraagstad #fort hraggstad #writeblr #ficblr #skyrim fanfic #tes fanfic #cycle of the serpent #my writing #bishop.txt #oc ; wyndrelis #oc ; emeros #oc ; athenath

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