#part 2 of 3

[dahlmanmontemaranoc]

#tarek k.i.z. #my gif post #blue dress #sm #part 2 of 3 #photoart #mi dibujo #chest hair #trendercore

[morinuu]

☢｜tamaki x reader. 2,4k words. sorry this is so late i literally forgot to post it last week anw the next n final part is coming in 2 weeks while i work n post some other stuff hehehe

“mum?”

“yes, love?”

“how did you not lose it when you realised dad was going away for good?”

that was the first thing you’d asked your mum on a saturday morning after waving her good morning. needless to say, the woman was taken aback to hear this question from you. she knew her daughter never asked about her parents’ divorce, not wanting to dissect those wounds.

it took her some time to come up with a response.

“i had you to look after.” she lied, not looking at you and instead focusing on her cake. “you kept me going.”

“but how was i helping in that situation? wouldn’t i make it worse?” you pressed on. if there was one thing your mum knew about you, it was that you were weirdly emotionally intelligent for a teenage girl.

she frowned, putting down the fruit she was decorating her cake with, and sighed deeply. she didn’t like lying to you.

“well.” she inhaled, “your question is phrased wrong.” she finally looked you in the eye. “because i did lose it. but before i was too far gone, i got back up. i couldn’t have you suffer like i did.”

the conversation replayed over and over in your head for the following week back to school. you wondered if heartbreak ran in the family. while not knowing much about your parents’ separation, you knew your grandparents also had a bad history. maybe love was just something the gods didn’t want to bestow upon your bloodline.

tamaki’s visit had, surprisingly, not been very pleasant. partly because your sickness made you… well, sick, and partly because tamaki was distracted the whole time. he’d brought you commoners’ food (haruhi’s recommendation), along with some more commoner candy ‘to sweeten your mood’ (what haruhi’s dad would take to work, according to haruhi). oh, and of course, you can’t forget how he would glance at his phone every so often. you ignored it at first, figuring out it’s the host club group chat, but your patience had its limits.

he’d come to your house, to check up on your health - his friend. supposedly. had you already been demoted to client status? well, you had the entire week to think about it as you rested.

during that time, tamaki seemed to reach out a bit more than usual, and once more, you believed he cared. you believed he realised you were important to him, even if your feelings weren’t exactly reciprocated.

and once again you’d been wrong.

because as time passed and you started making weekly appointments again, you began to feel that something was off. what exactly it was you couldn’t tell, but your gut was telling you to be suspicious. ‘suspicious of what, or who? tamaki?’ you didn’t like that feeling one bit.

no matter how many times he screwed up and misunderstood or failed to satisfy you in a host-client setting, you couldn’t give up on him. your mum’s words echoed in your ears, reminding you that men are a waste of time, that they just suck the soul out of you, that they’re not worth the heartbreak — but you were weak. and especially weaker than your mother. she disagreed, of course, but what did she know?

time seemed to start flowing normally again, tamaki wasn’t distant, haruhi and you never spoke to exchange more than greeting words, and your obsession was flourishing once more. you’d shower the halfer with gifts, spending a stupid amount of money — which the host club’s “mum” greatly appreciated — and you didn’t regret it one bit. everything was going smoothly, except for that tiny voice in your head.

it wasn’t until one of the host club’s organised excursions at the beach when your gut proved to be right. you wore your favourite swimwear for tamaki, and his compliments became straight up electricity up your spine. and just as you went to flirt with him like always,

“yo milord don’t forget about y/n’s gift today!” a familiar voice echoed by the palm trees. you could immediately tell it was hikaru, but you didn’t really understand what he meant. ah! perhaps they were expecting you to bring tamaki a gift again? well, you did, but this one felt a bit more personal so maybe you should tell him not to talk about it with the hosts— “even if it’s something stupid again, you ought to thank her for—”

the twins emerged from the bushes only to see you standing by the corner, hidden by the wall from their previous view. tamaki stood there, next to you, frozen. his facial expression almost screaming at the ginger to shut up but he’d been too late.

you furrowed your eyebrows at the two boys before turning your head to that stupid boy you were head over heels for.

“what?” you asked, obviously confused. but it didn’t take long to understand the situation.

tamaki thought your gifts were stupid, and he discussed it with his friends. and none of them thought to tell you. at least that's what the situation told you.

for what reason? well it could be a) manners or b) they didn’t care enough to.

but jokes on you because it wasn’t any of the above, it was c) they had to keep you happy because your mother asked for a favour. the favour being to make sure tamaki didn’t abandon you.

well, that’s not exactly what tamaki said when he pulled you to the side to explain, but it’s what the twins confessed to when you started poking for the truth.

you were more than disappointed with the news, your gut feeling now transferring to your throat and making it so tight you couldn’t get any words out, so you returned to your beach bed, dragging it away from tamaki’s. but the universe seemed to really hate you that day.

“miss l/n, is everything okay?” haruhi’s ever-annoying voice reached your ears and all you wanted to do was turn around and strangle her small little neck until it snapped. it was her fault. it was because of her that the boy you swore would become your boyfriend before graduation would no longer be apart of that plan. her. her, that stupid bi—

“i’m fine haruhi.” you smiled at her and continued dragging your bed across the sand to get away from this madness. you didn’t bother with any formalities.

“do you need help? i could bring your things so you don’t—”

“for fuck’s sake will you shut up?!” you snapped, raising your voice at the host. she didn’t say anything, just nodding and bowing before leaving. thankfully nobody else had been around to witness the scene, or you would’ve been involved in ouran gossip. only gods know how tiresome that is.

tamaki didn’t come to talk to you after that, you wanted to believe he wanted to and the hosts told him to give you space, but at this point you gave up all hope. he wanted haruhi, some cross-dressing nobody, a commoner, and you could do nothing about it.

the bracelet you had in your bag stayed there, and there it would remain for the rest of your trip. you’re kind of glad you never got to give it to him, at least it saved you the embarrassment of possibly being ridiculed by a bunch of boys calling themselves “hosts” with no shame.

but you guessed you were the one who should be ashamed; for wanting a host — a man notorious for seeing women as bank accounts.

when you went back home, you didn’t talk to your mum about the twins’ confession. sure, you were angry, but you knew she just wanted you happy. as for tamaki, he’d texted you a couple times but you knew if you called him you’d just burst into tears, so you went straight to bed, not bothering to wash the sand and sea salt off your body.

—

the following month had been… weird. you didn’t bother dropping by the host club anymore. kyouya, expecting this, just sighed and deleted you from the list of clients. he didn’t think you’d come back again after the fiasco at the beach.

haruhi, however, felt bad for some reason. like, okay, yeah, you were a bit more than mean sometimes and yeah, you barely looked at her if not to glare at her to get lost, but you didn’t seem like a bad person. your affection toward tamaki seemed genuine, and your last interaction didn’t sit well with her. it wasn’t the usual glare, eye roll, scoff, avoidant gesture or whatever else you “greeted” her with. this time it seemed more hurt, more… defeated. and she was right. because you’d been defeated.

haruhi had won.

she didn’t know, but she didn’t have to. because at the end of the day, it was all one-sided. one-sided affection, and one-sided dispute.

the twins both had different reactions to this revelation. kaoru (being the emotionally intelligent one) felt guilty for not handling the situation better but hikaru (the… other one) told him not to bother, and that they did what they could. he’d miss having you around, but you were never super close to begin with.

as for tamaki, he didn’t really register what had happened at first. when his hosting routine started again but without you in it, his clients had some questions.

“is it true that you kicked l/n out of the host club?”

“i mean what did you expect, she had it coming after harassing haruhi like that.”

“yeah, i agree. i mean, i understand some jealousy, but wasn’t that a bit too much? it’s not like tamaki’s her boyfriend.”

“i don’t think she was too harsh, but i guess the hosts know better…”

tamaki didn’t know what to make of this. he’d never kicked you out of the club, he thought you’d come back. you always did. if you were jealous, all you had to do was say you wanted more attention and he’d give it it to you. after all, you were a client, you had every right.

wait, what was that?

“whatever do you mean, princess?” he questioned in that melodic voice of his. “haruhi and y/n are on perfectly good terms, we’re all friends here!” he smiled widely and sat his cup down, using his pinky to erase the klank! noise.

“come on tamaki, you don’t have to keep such appearances around us.” one of the clients giggled. “we could all see it. to be honest, i never really noticed her much until haruhi came around.”

another girl continued, “yeah, totally. i hope it wasn’t a repeat of anayokoji, at least.” she rolled her eyes. “she seemed nice… such a shame.”

“i… don’t understand, ladies. what are you saying?” tamaki looked puzzled. the four girls looked back at him and at each other. it was times like these that tamaki showed he was a little dumb.

“tamaki… l/n is totally into you. she’s, like, super jealous of haruhi.”

tamaki didn’t know what to do with this information. he was pretty annoyed when kaoru made fun of him for not noticing until now. and really, he didn’t notice. he was told.

“why do you think our mums got involved? this is what the female sex calls ‘girl issues’, sir.”

tamaki resisted biting their heads off; he had no time for their bullshit. he had to meet with you and apologise, right?

y/n>.< : y/n? can we talk please?

you didn’t respond. neither to that, nor to the other 10 messages he spammed you with. calling you sent him straight to voicemail, and he swore if he heard that damn automatic message voice again he would explode.

why did it happen this way? why were you even jealous of haruhi? did he look gay to you? but then you wouldn’t want him, right? his head was filled with so many questions, until haruhi answered them all with a single sentence.

“don’t sulk too much senpai, it was inevitable that she’d find out about me and get suspicious.” she patted his shoulder, “i guess that’s what happens when you’re a popular boy surrounded by women.”

tamaki’s head rose from his knees, his eyes wide staring at haruhi’s. “wait, what do you mean ‘she’d find out about you’?”

haruhi sighed and sent him a look of pity. “oh yeah, you guys don’t know. y/n’s known about my sex for a while now.” she shrugged. “she saw me changing.”

a light bulb went off in most of the hosts’ heads (wait, i’ve seen this before) before they all glanced at each other in mutual understanding.

“i wish we would’ve gotten closer since we’re both girls and you’re so obsessed with me having female friends, but i would feel horrible if i made her feel sad whenever she’s around me.” haruhi continued.

oh, so he didn’t look gay, you just knew haruhi was also a girl.

but why would you get jealous of his little girl? he was just protecting her like a father would.

“oh will you stop with that crap, milord?” hikaru whined “we all know, there’s no point in denying it anymore.” he stopped when his brother slapped him on the head and they left the room.

“well, club activity’s over. we’ll see you guys tomorrow.” they all waved goodbyes and soon enough so did haruhi, but tamaki just sat on the club couch, thinking about his (very) recent discovery.

so he came to the conclusion:

you like(d?) him → he likes (???) haruhi → you realised and grew jealous → he prioritised her over you → he ended up looking like an asshole.

because he is an asshole.

“guess that’s what happens when you’re just too pretty.” he joked to himself, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t find it funny if you were here.

“mum, why did you and dad divorce?” you finally found the courage to ask the woman when she was relaxing in her bedroom one night. she sighed and looked at you, putting her book to the side and patting the spot on the bed next to her. you got in, looking at her expectantly.

“i didn’t want to tell you this because you were so young. you looked up to him very much.” she gave you a sad smile and caressed your cheek. “your father fell in love with someone else, darling.”

you stayed quiet for a bit, and your mum grew worried. should she not have told you?

“is that why you asked tamaki not to leave me?” you asked and your voice cracked. your mother sighed and apologised, wrapping her arms around you.

“i want you to be happy, y/n. don’t be like me. please.”

maybe love really wasn’t something the gods wanted to bestow upon your bloodline.

#ohshc #ohshc fanfic #ohshc x reader #fanfiction #ouran high school host club #ouran host club #tamaki #tamaki suoh #tamaki x reader #light angst #part 2 #part 2 of 3 #he's dumb

[bl-bam-beyond]

LOVE IN TRANSLATION (2023, THAILAND)

Episode 6

Phumjai (KANTAPON JINDATAWEEPHOL aka OFFROAD) and Yang (PITTAYA SAECHUA aka DAOU) continue making up after Yang confesses and the business partner add boyfriends to their business...now personal relationship. A very enthusiastic make up intensifies.

Spoiler Alert: Shelves made need restocking.

@pose4photoml @lutawolf @wanderlust-in-my-soul @bengiyo

#BL-BAM-BEYOND FAMILY OF BLOGS #PART 2 OF 3 #LOVE IN TRANSLATION #MAKE UP CONTINUED #OFFROAD AND DAOU DISPLAY CHEMISTRY PLUS #EPISODE 6 #YANG KEEPS HIS BUSINESS PARTNER AND ADDS LOVER #My GIFS #MYGIFSET #MY-GIF-EDIT

[chandluretrainez]

The Siren's Song

3,394 words | Sanji x Zoro | T | Part 2 of 3 Summary:   The Straw Hats capture a siren after it attacks them for killing his mate. Sanji, named thusly by the moronic duo Usopp and Luffy, proves himself to be interesting company, and Zoro can't help but be fascinated by the creature, slowly but surely, falling under its spell. AO3: Chandlure AO3: Story Link

After the incident, the seas remained calm and fair, and it was almost as if nothing had changed aboard the Thousand Sunny, other than the majority of Usopp’s stories suddenly being about sirens.

Zoro lay on the deck, his eyes closed as he went about taking his afternoon nap. Steps approached him, and he grumbled in response, recognizing Usopp's familiar gait. After a moment of silence, Usopp took a seat beside him.  He nervously played with his shoelaces, a sign of his unease. Zoro opened his eyes and grunted in acknowledgment, sensing that Usopp needed to talk. "The siren won't eat," he said softly. "I've been sitting with him and talking to him, you know, telling stories and whatnot, but nothing seems to work." Zoro could sense the underlying worry in Usopp's voice and opened his eyes to look at his friend. He watched as Usopp continued fidgeting with his shoelaces, eyes trained on the grass below them.

“You’ve been hanging out with it? I thought you were scared?”

Usopp scoffed, attempting to hide his unease as he glanced back at the aquarium. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he declared, though his voice quivered slightly. “I just... don't want him to be lonely. I know what it’s like to be all alone when the only person who ever loved you died.” He shrugged, trying to brush off his own vulnerability. “I have Luffy hang out with me when I'm with him,” Usopp continued, “but while he seems to enjoy my stories and will even play some card games with us, he still refuses to eat.” A soft chuckle escaped him, tinged with sadness. “The last time Luffy attempted to force-feed him, I had to quickly pull him out of the way before he fell into the water.”

That tracked, although Zoro wondered why this creature only seemed to complain when he was around. He certainly wasn’t playing games with him, not fun ones, in any case. 

He complained that the water was too hot or cold, the tank was too small, and the water wasn’t salty enough or too salty— how that was possible, Zoro would never know. They pull the water straight from the Grand Line’s oceans the siren lived in! Since he was the one who got the brunt of the complaints, he soon lost patience and threatened to end its life if the beast didn’t stop complaining all the time. And the protests had died for a while, until now that is. Now, the creature seemed to have a new thing to complain about— the food. 

He knew Usopp had taken it upon himself to try and feed the creature and wondered what the problem possibly was. He knew Usopp would be careful to feed him correctly. “What’s the problem?” 

Usopp puffed out a laugh, “Other than its affinity for human meat, which, of course, we won’t give, he complains that the food isn’t seasoned quite right, or rather that it tastes like complete shit. This makes me think he has a habit of eating food from ship kitchens, if not the chefs themselves.” Usopp spoke so quickly that Zoro was having a hard time keeping up. “I finally got him to agree to eat, but he said he would only eat if you…” Usopp moved his hands around, looking like he was struggling to get the words out. 

“Only if I?” 

“Only if you feed him,” Usopp said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he tried to hold back a smile.

And so Zoro found himself sitting in the middle of the deck, the bucket of stinking fish in hand, with the hatch open. The waves gently lapped against the sides of the hatch as he waited for the siren to surface. As the creature rose from the water, its sleek body glistening in the sun, Zoro but be momentarily stunned. A bright blue eye, framed by a curiously shaped eyebrow, peered up at him. Long strands of golden hair cascaded down its face, partially concealing its other eye. The siren's mesmerizing gaze held him captive as it waited for its meal.

Usopp sat a few feet away, hunched over his latest gadget. The sniper's brow furrowed in concentration as he tinkered with wires and screws, occasionally glancing up at Zoro with an unsure smile.“Zoro?”

Zoro simply waved him off, his attention wholly focused on the creature before him. The siren watched him with intense curiosity, its iridescent scales glistening in the sunlight. 

"Zo-ro," it repeated in a low, gravelly voice that sent shivers down Zoro's spine. He would have thought the creature was a heavy smoker if he didn't know any better.

Ignoring the siren's attempts to communicate, Zoro directed his attention back to the task at hand. With a stern expression, he held up the bucket and spoke firmly, "I do not enjoy being pulled from my afternoon nap to spoon-feed you. Are you going to behave?"

The siren looked up at Zoro with mischievous eyes before turning its gaze to Usopp. After a moment of consideration, it nodded in agreement— although there was still a hint of a devilish grin on its face that made Zoro wary.

Zoro narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Usopp, who shrugged nonchalantly. “Sanji’s just like that sometimes,” he said in defense.

“Sanji?” Zoro looked back down at the creature. “Is that your name?”

The siren tilted his head, a look of confusion crossing its delicate features. "Name?" it echoed in a melodic voice. "সঞ্জী," he stated, pronouncing the word in a way that was foreign to both Zoro and Usopp.

“Oh, Sanji’s the name Luffy, and I gave him,” Usopp said offhandedly. “We can’t pronounce his real name, but it sounded close enough to ‘Sanji’, so that’s what we call him.”

Zoro scoffed, “You shouldn’t give captives names if they have none. It’s a mistake to treat such things as human.”

“He has one. We just can’t say it,” was Usopp’s bored reply.

“San-ji,” the siren sounded out experimentally before flicking its tail playfully and grinning. “I like it!”

And so began Zoro's new routine of feeding Sanji every morning and night without fail. The mermaid-like creature seemed to relish the attention and eagerly awaited Zoro's arrival each day. As time passed, Zoro couldn't help but soften, just slightly,  towards the siren, even though he tried to fight it. After all, how could he resist those charming antics for long?

~o0o~

Sanji was testing Zoro’s patience with his childish antics. Earlier that morning, Sanji had been impatient for his breakfast and had splashed Zoro as he surged to the top of the tank, causing water to spill everywhere, including over Zoro’s boots and the bottom of his robe and pants.

Zoro promptly dumped the contents of the bucket over the siren’s head. The resultant look of surprise that came over Sanji’s face made him snicker. It was hard to view Sanji as deadly and dangerous when he had various kinds of fish flopping over his head and shoulders and slapping him in the face.

Zoro merely raised his eyebrows, causing Sanji to growl and shoot Zoro a petulant glare before descending back into the depths of the tank. Their morning encounter was clearly over.

Throughout the day, Zoro couldn’t help but smirk whenever he thought about their amusing encounter. And that smirk only grew tenfold when, that evening, he learned that Sanji had refused to eat out of sheer stubbornness.

~o0o~

Sanji was careful not to splash Zoro again, although he couldn't resist watching the playful water fights Sanji got into with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper throughout the week. 

As they lounged on the deck, Usopp would spin exciting tales of faraway lands to Sanji, Chopper, and Luffy. Zoro, however, asked more personal questions, his curiosity piqued by the siren's presence. When asked about his home, Sanji pointed out to the sea. That confused Zoro, so he clarified that the ship was his home, but all that had gotten him was a perplexed look from the siren.

"Your home...small," Sanji mused, clearly struggling to understand the idea of living on a vessel rather than the vastness of the ocean.

Zoro kept it to himself that even on a ship as small as the Sunny, he frequently found himself lost.“You don’t sleep in the same place every night?”

Bright blue eyes bored into his own. “Home is with mate.” 

Zoro merely grunted in response, not knowing how to interpret the statement. Did sirens have a fixed place to call home? Or did they travel endlessly with their chosen mates? The latter seemed more plausible, especially considering Jinbe's earlier theory about this area being the siren's hunting grounds.

The creature's dark, piercing eyes met Zoro's as he asked if there were more like him. Sanji’s head cocked to the side, considering the question before responding with a cryptic, "Yes, no." Zoro couldn't tell if it was being intentionally elusive or if its grasp of their language was simply that limited.

Sanji was clearly an intelligent being, but his understanding of human communication seemed tenuous at best. Zoro wondered if he understood the answer or if Sanji even comprehended the question. When he asked Usopp, the only other person who spent significant time with Sanji, he confirmed Zoro's suspicions.

“Although, he is getting much better!” Usopp had said brightly when asked, holding up a crumpled piece of paper with scribbles written across it. “I’ve been teaching him some of the basics.” Zoro couldn't help but smile at the thought of Usopp patiently tutoring the strange creature in their ways.

Zoro enjoyed the company and even indulged Sanji when he asked his own questions about the crew. He took particular interest in Franky, the ship, and the clothes they wore. He was fascinated by Zoro’s emerald robe and his three gold earrings. 

Most of Sanji’s questions were innocuous, but he chose to ignore some, such as the ones about his swords or Usopp’s sniping ability. When he answered, he was careful with the information he gave. After all, if any of the crew had been in Sanji’s position, they would have used the time to learn everything they could to escape successfully. 

He had also come to realize that the siren could be quite cunning and mischievous when it suited him. Just a few days ago, Zoro had caught Sanji staring at him with a mischievous glint in his eye, causing the swordsman to raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

“What?” he grunted.

Sanji merely frowned.

“What do you want?”

It seemed the siren did not know the words to relay his thoughts, so he resorted to first pointing to his hair and then Zoro before making wiggling motions with his hands above his head. Now, Usopp and Luffy cracked up every time they crossed paths with him and continuously asked if they could have some seaweed.

As frustrating, interesting, and sometimes insulting as the conversation with Sanji was, the novelty of the sessions had quickly worn away, as feeding Sanji was a tedious task. This was mainly because the siren insisted on being hand-fed each fish and would still only accept it from Zoro.

Zoro sat cross-legged beside the hutch, patiently waiting for Sanji to finish. He absentmindedly played with his earrings as he waited, running his fingers across the metal with contentment.

Sanji was fascinated by the dancing light reflecting off the gold surfaces. With a half-eaten fish in hand, the siren pointed to them. “I have seen before.”

Nami leaned over Zoro’s broad shoulder, her slender arms crossing over his head as she peered down at Sanji. She had been passing by when she heard his comment and couldn't resist getting more information. Her inquisitive eyes looked him over with curiosity. “Oh?”

“In ships on bottom.”

“Oh.” Interest lost, she straightened up, continuing on her journey to the library.

“Some more, some less, but always there. What purpose?”

Zoro shook his head with a small smile, amused by the fish's lack of understanding. Of course, living in the sea meant that gold held no value to them; it was a currency not needed in their underwater world.

"It has many uses, but we mostly use it for trading," he explained to Sanji, who looked confused by the concept. "We give it to someone if they have something we want," Zoro clarified, feeling the weight of Sanji's curious gaze on him.

He could feel Sanji's intense gaze upon him, curious about this shiny treasure from another world. "Do you like gold?" The question hung in the air between them.

Zoro laughed, “who wouldn’t?”

Sanji's tail flicked with excitement, creating small ripples in the crystal-clear water below. "I can get many gold," he declared.

He could feel Nami's gaze burning into his back, her interest clearly piqued. If Sanji had been sinking ships in these waters, he must have known where their treasure was hidden. The ocean was his playground, and he knew every inch of it, making it likely that numerous sunken ships were waiting to be plundered on the ocean floor. Just one or two of these ships could sustain them for a long time, even with Luffy's habit of leaving behind gold to villages they’ve all but destroyed during their travels.

Zoro smirked. “Nice try, but we are not letting you out.”

Sanji's expression seemed to falter for a moment, almost as if it were disappointed that the trick hadn’t worked. Did he really believe that such a feeble ruse would be enough to deceive them?

With a glint in his eye, Zoro stated, “You'll make us more than enough gold when we get into port.”

"We're not selling him!" Usopp was quick to chime in, although deep down, he knew that Zoro was only half-serious, much like their playful teasing of Chopper when they said that he was the designated emergency food supply.

~o0o~

Zoro fell comfortably into a routine. He started each morning with the familiar routine of feeding Sanji and ended each evening in the same way. In between, he pushed himself to his physical limits with rigorous workouts and turned to meditation when his body needed rest.

However, one day brought a change to his routine as he noticed something peculiar about the bucket meant for Sanji's meals. His brow furrowed in confusion as he felt that there were far fewer fish than usual inside. There also seemed to be scraps of beef and chicken from their previous meals. "Usopp," he called out, his tone curious and slightly concerned. "What's going on here?" 

A heavy sigh escaped Usopp's lips as he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "These last few days, we've barely been able to catch any fish," he explained, gesturing towards the meager pile of seafood before them. "I had to scrape together what little we could afford to feed him without us going hungry. I even had Jinbe go down and check, but he said there weren’t any fish for miles. He called it a ‘dead zone.’”

Sanji, however, seemed unfazed by the lack of fresh fish. His attention was instead drawn to the large hunk of beef that lay before him, causing his tail to flick excitedly.

“So you like beef?”

Sanji's head tilted to the side in an odd fashion, a gesture he had observed from the siren whenever it was deep in thought or trying to grasp a new concept.

“B-ee-f,” it repeated. Judging by the way it repeated the word with fascination, Sanji had never encountered beef before. "Good," he confirmed."But not best."

Zoro frowned, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach at the siren's words. “Then what is ‘best’?”

The siren looked up at him and flashed a predatory smile,  revealing a mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth, shark-like teeth.

Zoro immediately regretted asking.

Part One

#one piece #one piece zoro #one piece zosan #op zosan #zosan #zosan fanfic #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji #siren sanji #siren au #loving usopp #part 2 of 3

[shu-box-puns]

Shell-Shocked

(Neteyam x Reader)

Previous Chapter <- Part 2 -> Next Chapter

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: When you try to clear up a misunderstanding but things are getting worse before they’re getting better.

Word Count: 11,719

Metkayina Reader uses they/them pronouns.

The Cove of the Ancestors was always prettiest at night. 

Honestly, it was gorgeous at all times of day. With its arching stone limbs framing the sun and the ethereal glowing fan-like leaves of the Spirit Tree underfoot. Without the sun to dim its splendour, the Tree shone brighter than even the closest star, rivalling the soft glow of the colossal moon that sat lazily upon its throne of curved rock overshadowing the cove.

And at the centre of it all, was Ronal, the bridge between Eywa and Her children. 

Backlit by the moon, the Tsahik sat tall upon her tsurak, oozing power despite her silence as she commanded the small procession of young hunters with but a wave of her hand. 

She was draped in a flowing cloak of blue sea grass, whilst shells that represented every symbol of her people were weaved between the locks of her hair. You recognised the bright pink conch of her courting gift from Tonowari, to the bright white of blooming friendship no doubt collected after a successful alliance with another sea clan. Your gaze absently caught on the jade of a smaller shell which represented the camaraderie of warriors, before catching on a fist sized black shell set at the centre of the tapestry of her intricate hairstyle. As death was the path in which every na’vi returned to Eywa, and Eywa was at the centre of everything a Tsahik did for their people, it was only common sense that this was the symbol Ronal had chosen to place most obviously within her hair. Ominous but beautiful in the most morbid of ways. 

You had a vague memory of the morning that particular black shell had washed ashore upon the beaches of Awa’altu. The way Ronal had paled and reached for it with shaking hands as an unsettled murmur had started up from the onlooking villagers. How Tonowari’s expression had grown pinched and distant, his grasp on his spear turning unforgiving. The new stars had appeared in the sky that night. Spearing across the inky heavens like lost fragments of stars. Falling towards Eywa’eveng at frightening speeds. Scouts carrying the news that the Sky People had returned reached the sea clans within the following few days.

The elegant turn of Ronal’s tsurak in the water, drew your attention back to the present. Despite its impressive size, the powerful mount barely stirred the waves with its movements as its rider looked upon the four young hunters that she had led from the village at the beginning of eclipse. Her gaze briefly flickered over you and the two others brought along to supervise the visit whilst Ronal oversaw the ceremony itself.

With the season of the tsurak migration on the horizon, Ronal had gathered a select handful for an unprompted communion with Eywa. Whilst the others had no doubt been hand selected by Ronal for the journey, she had all but stormed into your hut with little to no warning and ordered you help her escort the less experienced hunters. She had demanded you cease your stupid pitying and be useful, to which you could do little besides grabbing your hunting spear and call your ilu.

Her judgemental gaze had glared daggers into the side of your head throughout the entire journey to the cove. Having ridden side by side, Ronal had had no shortage of opportunities to shoot probing questions your way, swiftly followed up with annoyed um’s and ah’s when your answers were clipped and short.

You hadn’t breathed a word of what had happened a couple days ago. The embarrassment would have killed you if you had had to look Ronal in the eye and tell her honestly what had gotten under your thick skin. Like Aonung, her response would be unpredictable and you would much rather avoid addressing anything. 

Naturally, you doubted that she was unaware of what had happened. She was Tsahik afterall, and there had been plenty of eyes and ears around to witness the entire mortifying situation.

But for now, you were spared by Ronal’s duty to recite her greetings to Eywa. You joined the others in bowing your heads in respect, before taking up a post near the rear of the small group. Spear in hand, you set your mind to surveying the waters as Ronal called each young hunter forward one by one. You heard the deep inhales and the lap of unsettled waves as she guided each beneath the surface to connect to the Spirit Tree. 

On the off chance you would glance back when they resurfaced, the young hunter would always be smiling with some new sense of determination. Their resolve to pass their iknimaya refreshed by whichever lost loved one had appeared to them through Eywa. 

Soon, you would be among them.

But not yet. Clearly, you were nowhere near ready. 

Neteyam’s betrayal still sat heavy above your ribs, sometimes growing unbearably suffocating. You would be continuing with your duties, only for the action of another clan mate to bring him fluttering into your mind. Something as simple as teens messing around in the surf by the beach, made you recall all those times Neteyam had tried to trip or drag you down into the waves with him after some quick retort you’d fired at him. Even now, looking at the young hunters, you could see a watery reflection of his joy at a successful dive rippling across their beaming faces. 

You could practically see the cute scrunch of his nose. Could imagine the disarray of his braids, how a couple would get stuck on his ears even after he tried to brush them back. You could practically feel the neat links between your fingers as you fixed them for him-

A flash of pink in your peripheral abruptly soured the fond memory. 

Gaze narrowed, you glared down your spear shaft to the obnoxiously bright shell currently clinging to the blade like a limpet. It felt like an act of defiance as you pulled the weapon in and mercilessly scrapped the offending object off with your thumb. Certain that no one else had seen it, you wound back your hand and pointedly threw the blasted thing as far away as you could. Your ilu straightened at the sudden motion, but watched with you as the pink landed with a plop and was swiftly swallowed by the calm silver of the dancing moonlight on the waves.

An authoritative tut had your spine instinctively straightening. 

Even without turning, you knew Ronal was behind you, and she was greatly displeased.

<”Never so rudely discard a gift from Eywa.”> She said coldly, with the authority of her station, even as she tread water at a level that forced you to look down to meet her gaze. <”It’s fine.”> You found yourself blurting out stupidly, despite the fact you’d grown up alongside this woman’s children and knew your excuses would fall on deaf ears. <”She’ll just send me more. Bet I’ll find another before we even get back to the village.”> 

Ronal was already shaking her head in displeasure, the shells woven into her hair gently clicking together. <”You do not think clearly.”> She finally stated, as sharply and quickly as a slap on the wrist. <”Now come. It is your turn to go see Her.”>

Your nose scrunched at the order, eyes briefly glancing to the young hunters, who were now mucking around in the waves whilst Ronal’s back was turned. Even the escorts were glistening in the light of the moon, their hair sticking to their scalps, having clearly already descended to the Tree for a reunion with Eywa.

Before you could unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, Ronal was taking your spear from your lax grasp and tossing it to the nearest escort with barely a word of warning. Luckily, he caught it easily and rested it across his knees. 

With that, Ronal sharply dragged you off your ilu and urged you to follow her under. You went easily enough, ducking under the waves to find yourself briefly soothed by the sudden silence that came with the embrace of the water and the underlying humm of life that always inhabited the space between the waving limbs of the Spirit Tree.

Ronal swam down in front of you, the lilac light reflecting off the shells in her hair as she led the way. You kept pace easily, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting as Ronal approached a certain branch with purpose and urged you to forge the connection.

Stopping at her elbow, you pulled your kuru forward over your shoulder. The braid was a familiar weight in your hand as you reached forward, the tendrils at the end eagerly emerging to fuse to the Spirit Tree’s offered limb. 

You expected to be greeted by a distant relative, maybe some faceless Goddess, but instead, you opened your eyes to a beach. To sand between your toes and the lull of the waves at your side. The smell of meat cooking over fires and the sounds of the village accompanied the calm crash of the waves. 

There was someone standing beside you, drawing your attention from your surroundings with a soft touch to your shoulder. You tore your gaze from the village to find Neteyam at your side. He stood tall, the vision of confidence, but you could tell from the anxious sway of his tail that nerves were threatening to overwhelm him. The smile that pulled at his lips looked strained. A thought which made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Why him? Why had Eywa sent him to greet you? 

Before your eyes, this phantom version of Neteyam seemed to pull himself together. You watched an odd expression seep into his gaze. And although it was different, you could somehow tell it was the echoes of something soft hidden within the depths of his eyes. 

If you were still a lovesick fool, you might have mistaken it for affection.

But you knew better now. You knew that Eywa had made a mistake. You knew that Neteyam did not want you. That he did not even wish to be your friend.

You had reminded yourself of this in the days that had followed the fight on the walkway. The truth had turned you bitter. Prompting Ronal to drag you from your hut with some half-assed excuse of being a scout for her visit. 

You knew and yet this version of Neteyam looked at you as if you’d hung the stars. What was even more unsettling, was that he wore your courting necklace. The bright pinks of the shells gorgeously contrasted his complexion as they cruelly supplied you with the image of what he would have looked like wearing them. If he had given you a chance to prove yourself.

<”What are you looking at?”> He asked you now, a bright laugh lacing its way between his words. He shifted, appearing suddenly at ease. 

In contrast, you felt yourself subconsciously stiffening. 

<”Nothing.”> You said simply, and he hummed. 

Unexpectedly, one of his hands strayed from his side to reach for your hand. His fingers were long and warm as they easily wrapped around your wrist, as if to anchor you in place. Holding you in place with a gentleness that was foreign to you. <”You’re a bad liar.”> He said, his words barely registering in your mind as the warmth of his hand pressed into your skin. 

He pulled away suddenly, and you immediately cursed yourself for feeling disappointed by his withdrawal. You’d think you were used to it by now. 

Neteyam didn’t notice. His expression had brightened as he spotted something at your feet. Quicker than your eyes could follow, he stooped to pluck something from the sand. 

His fingers closed around the object, his grin bright as he carefully opened his hands and showed you what he was holding. It was a shell. A very large and very, VERY pink one at that. 

You knew your tail was wagging at an unnatural pace, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. Or stop for that matter. Your heart was pounding and doing happy flips at the sheer size of the shell presented to you now. You were grinning despite yourself. Eagerly reaching for the beautiful shell under Neteyam’s bright eyed watch, your heart swelling in your chest with the amount of affection you harboured for this sweet boy and his cute smile. 

Alarmed shouts sounded from the village, stilling your hand. The smell of the cooking fires turned acidic, like the burning of metal. You glanced away from Neteyam for half a second to find that the beach was suddenly awash with screaming na’vi. Hunters were grabbing their spears and skimwings were being called, whilst Metkayina villagers ran for the sea. Some were on fire, screaming the whole way. Whilst others shepherd children out of the pods, and friends dragged each other across the sand. The drums for war were sounding, thunderous and ominous in their volume, making your heart race and your happiness evaporate.

In contrast, when you turned back to him, Neteyam was the vision of calm. <”Y/n?”> He asked lightly, acting as if you had been rendered speechless by the shell, when you could in reality see the burning of your home reflecting in his eyes. 

You managed to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, hands coming up to grip his bicep, ready to haul him towards the sea, only for your actions to freeze. Your eyes bugged at the sight of his necklace. At the shells that once resembled the forest, and now shone black in the burning light of the out of control fires. 

He was still smiling. Still grinning without a care in the world like a love-drunk fool. Comically, he tipped his head towards the shell caught between your outstretched hands. 

Again, you followed his unspoken prompt, breath stuttering at the once pink shell that had crumbled to a black husk between his hands. Everywhere his skin touched it, it shone a dirty black, whilst the part that your fingers brushed had softened into a milky white. It was a sickeningly beautiful contrast. Riddled with signs and messages that only a Tsahik could successfully interpret. 

<”Do you not like it?”>

You looked up at him once more. Heart clenching painfully as you realised that his freckles were no longer glowing, despite the darkness and the illuminated dots adorning your own skin. You didn’t need a Tsahik to know what that meant. <”No, it is beautiful.”> You promised him, and he laughed with such ignorance that you knew in your gut that he couldn’t possibly know the meaning. 

The snap of woven fibres breaking apart startled your gaze from him. Your gaze darted to the village, your home, currently being consumed by hungry tongues of flame. Pods were collapsing in on themselves as the fire spread. Their strong structures weakened as the ribs of the trees they were secured against began to blacken and buckle. A few collapsed under their own weight, tipping the People running along them into the raging waves.

Neteyam was unnaturally still at your back, the flames dancing in the gold of his eyes as he stared blankly at the ruins of your home. He did not appear surprised by the destruction, as if he had seen it all before.

The world shifted on its axes, and you stumbled back a step, only for your foot to hit something lukewarm and solid as the unsettled waves sucked at your heels. 

Unsteady, your gaze lowered to the object, only for the breath to still in your throat at the site of a body in the water. Eyes frozen in death, the na’vi stared blankly at the ruined village, his throat slit.

More bodies littered the sand. Turning the white beaches into a bloodbath of gore and red.

Your breathing picked up, even as you realised that these were not the bodies of sea na’vi. Their clothes were alien. Their features were wrong. Their noses were too sharp and strips of hair hugged their brow bones. They were forest na’vi, but not.

Not that it seemed to matter much, because someone had taken the time to kill them all. Bloody gashes stained the sand and tainted the waves. Ugly, unclean swipes of a blade that did not reflect the ways of the People. These were not clean kills.

A hand grasped your shoulder.

You lurched, hand swinging up to smack the person away. 

Neteyam was still there. Still wearing that foolish necklace. Still watching the destruction of the village. He caught your wrist easily, eyes not once moving from where they were fixed. And not a moment too soon, as you realised you were clutching your bloodied blade in that hand.

Red was smeared from the knife to your forearm, covering the ripples of your aqua stripes. Tainting the fine leather of your blade. It was only now, you could feel the stickiness of the substance splattered across your torso. Along your arms, dripping from your chin. You could feel something stuck between your teeth, and you feared it wasn’t fish judging by the sizable bite marks carved into some of the dead na’vi’s bodies.

Your disconnection from the Spirit Tree with a lurch, as if Eywa had severed your connection personally and shoved you backwards and out of her realm. It was disorienting to go from the screaming destruction of the village, to the muffled silence beneath the waves. For a few heart pounding seconds, you couldn’t tell up from down. 

A light touch to your shoulder made you jump. Your body wanted to fight, but you managed to keep from reaching for your knife long enough to recognise Ronal’s concerned expression at your elbow. 

/Who did She show you?/ The Tsahik signed, her expression pinched.

Your mind was spinning too fast to answer. You could still taste the copper on your tongue and feel the stickiness of the blood splattered across your skin. Your lungs burned as if you’d inhaled acidic smoke, and you desperately wanted to breathe it all out. You needed to surface. To inhale the seaweed and salt of the cove and allow the watery moonlight to wash away the harsh orange of the fire. Anything to get the taste of ash off your tongue and the feeling of flesh between your teeth to dissipate.

You noticed the underbellies of the other’s ilus mucking around on the surface without Ronal’s guidance. The lazy circles of the warriors helped to orient you, to give you a direction. 

Panic was still clawing up the back of your throat. Shaking your hands as that black shell flashed in the back of your mind once again, making your ears instinctively pin back. The inky blackness of their colour. The crumbling edges.

You were kicking for the surface before you realised you’d never given Ronal an answer. Your burning need for the sound of the waves tugged you higher and higher as you clumsily moved away from the Spirit Tree. With powerful kicks of your legs and the rhythmic sway of your tail, you started rising to the surface. In your haste, everything you’d learnt about swimming since infancy went out the window. Your tail worked out of sync with your legs, as your hands clawed uselessly at the water despite knowing that having your fingers apart would only slow your ascent. 

In contrast, Ronal was a calming presence at your back, easily keeping pace before she seemed to lose patience and swept you up into her arms. Despite the addition of your weight, she ascended smoothly to the surface, pressing you into her side, mindful of her swollen belly as she gracefully left the Spirit Tree behind. 

You broke the surface with a gasp, something you had NEVER done before. Coming up for breath was normally a calm procedure. Now, you greedily sucked down lungfuls of air. 

<”Suvio, guide the young hunters back to the village.”> Ronal’s voice was calm and clear as she broke the surface with the same elegance as usual. Her grip was firm around your waist as you struggled to calm yourself.

The hunter Ronal had addressed dutifully nodded as the young hunters immediately scrambled to fall back into the formation. She yipped to them before leading the way out of the cove, the other scout bringing up the rear. 

Ronal watched them go until the soft glow of their freckles disappeared against the stars of the night, offering you some desperately needed privacy. Your cheeks were warm from the torrent of your frightened tears, more obvious now that the ocean didn’t whisk them away the moment they slipped from between your eyelids. 

<”What did you see?”> Ronal asked, her voice startlingly loud against the stillness of the cove.

You sucked in a sharp breath, as you struggled to set the events of the vision into order. Ronal soothed you with a firm hand running up and down your back, easing the tension from your shoulders as she waited. 

Instead of looking at her narrowed gaze, you focused on the pool of her hair floating around her shoulders. The shells woven within the strands glowed softly, their contrasting shades of bioluminescence standing out against the raven black strands.

It was hard to speak, but you pushed yourself to anyway. Your hands were too busy clinging tightly to Ronal to be any use in signing to her. <”She, she sent me an omen.”> 

Ronal stilled. <”More shells?”> She pressed, her tone probing. There was no amusement in her question, her demeanour completely typical of the Tsahik instead of a concerned parent. 

<”A warning.”> You confirmed, voice wobbly. <”A Black shell.”> You continued, <”big enough to fill both my palms. It was ancient. Crumbling.”>

Ronal’s ears flattened. And then after a moment of contemplation, she yipped for her tsurak. <”We must return to the village.”> You grabbed her arm before she could pull away, feeling uncomfortably raw for the blatant vulnerable action, but needing to ask anyway. <”What does it mean?”> 

<”You know what it means.”> Ronal replied simply, and you did.

You recalled that morning on the beach, eavesdropping on Ronal and Tonowari as they hastily discussed the meaning of the black shell that had just washed up. <”Someone is going to die.”> Ronal had said then, and Tonowari had been powerless to shake his head at her accusation. She had been right, afterall.

>_<

Neteyam looked down at his freshly woven token. 

He was sat in his hammock, swarmed by the copious amount of pink shells that somehow managed to invade his sleeping quarters regardless of how many times he cleared them out, and trapped deep in thought. 

Absently, he ran a thumb over his weaving, gaze critical as he compared the pattern to a necklace Tsireya had gifted him to take inspiration from the day before. He was so used to weaving the Omaticaya way, that it had taken an embarrassing amount of time to learn the Metkayina way of knot working, but he thought the necklace was just about ready now.

Forcing himself not to spiral or think too hard about it, Neteyam glanced at the contents of his hammock in search of the perfect pair of shells to attach to the centre of the piece. Ideally, he wanted two halves of the same shell, so he could accent them to sit above each collar bone instead of hanging too heavy in the centre of the throat. A design choice he’d stolen from one of his mother’s old necklaces where two jade river stones took the place of the shells.

Whilst he busied himself, Neteyam tried to put together an action plan. 

He had no idea where Y/n was right now. They hadn’t shown up to lessons for the last few days, nor had he stumbled across them in the village. None of his siblings had in fact. Even Tuk hadn’t been able to track them down. 

<”What’s with the long face?”> His Dad asked from the doorway of the pod, still dripping from hauling himself out of the water only moments before.

Neteyam felt his cheeks heat, the courting necklace at his throat suddenly too tight. He hadn’t talked about mates or courting with his Dad before, certainly not since the Sky People had returned. It was simply not something they’d ever discussed. 

But his Dad was more relaxed now. A thought Neteyam confirmed with himself as his Father crossed the pod, a net full of fish in hand. He sat himself down beside the cooking pot, focused on his catch so he wouldn’t pressure Neteyam into talking before he was ready. Which he appreciated.

Talking it out would be nice though. Especially to someone who wasn’t part of the entire mess.

“It’s complicated.” Neteyam finally replied with, responding in English to help himself say it. It felt safer somehow. His Dad gummed quietly, somehow knowing there was more, and that Neteyam would give it up eventually. 

”How did you know Mum was the one for you?” Neteyam found himself asking, eyes glued to his token instead of his Dad who had ceased his rustling to look at him. There was a mement of stillness in which Neteyam knew he was being assessed. Luckily, Dad let it drop, responding in English. ”She tried to kill me.” Neteyam could hear the amusement in his tone, could picture the adoration glinting in his Father’s eyes like it always did when he thought of Mum. Honestly, it was sickening sometimes how infatuated they still were with each other. ”What’s this about?”

Neteyam swallowed, still hiding behind his braids. “The Metkayina have a concept of their mates being chosen by Eywa.” “Ah. Mo’at told me something similar. Something to do with shells if I’m not mistaken.” Dad confirmed, the hiss of his knife leaving its sheath indicating he was continuing with his task. “I take it from that look that someone’s taken a fancy to you.”

“Dad!” He hissed through his teeth, ears burning. 

His Dad barked a laugh. “What can I say? Sully men got game-”

”DAD!”

”Fine! Fine. I’ll stop.” He was grinning, so Neteyam feared he wouldn’t. But to his relief, or horror, Dad swung the conversation back on track. ”So, who is this mysterious soulmate?” “It doesn’t matter.” Neteyam hurriedly dismissed. “They won’t even look at me anymore.”

”Come on, you’re kids. It can’t be that serious.”

”You can’t compare every situation, to you betraying the clan for the demons.” ”I said no such thing.” ”You ALWAYS imply it.”

“There you go.” Dad mused, to which Neteyam suddenly realised he’d finally come out of hiding during the heat of the conversation and was now glaring down at his Father on the floor. Seemingly satisfied, his Dad continued to speak, his attention drifting down to the fish he was gutting. ”It’s Y/n, right? Friend of Tonowari’s kids?” Dad pried, glancing up long enough to confirm his suspicion with a weak nod from Neteyam. He chuckled in amusement. “Tough cookie that one. Very serious.”

“You don’t say.” Neteyam replied dryly. “I’m worried I’ve messed it up before it could even begin.” “Well.” Dad began, “you’re a smart kid. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” “That’s it? You’re not going to give me any real advice?” “I doubt you want advice from me.” Dad reassured him, “Even in my old age, I don’t have the best head on my shoulders.” “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

His Dad laughed. “Fine, if you want my advice, I’d recommend-”

The curtain across the mouth of the pod was promptly swept aside before Dad would offer up anything decent to help Neteyam along. “Do not give our son any of your stupid ideas.” His mother ordered, striding into the pod with her visor sat low on her brow bone. “You will get him a black eye.” 

“What can I do?” Dad mused, “he insisted.”

Mum scoffed at him, playfully swatting his cheek with her tail as she passed. She did not take off her visor, nor did she stride for her own hammock.

In a matter of seconds, Neteyam found himself sat in his hammock with his Mother’s shadow casting over him. “Do you wish to court this na’vi?” She asked him bluntly. 

Neteyam spluttered. 

His mother smiled knowingly, but did not wait for his excuse as she ploughed on. “You do.” She told him. “And I will tell you what I told Lo’ak. You are going to grab them by the ear and make them notice you. You are going to present them with the best woven token and refuse to leave until you get a straight answer. And afterwards, you will stop this moping. You are a Sully. We do not mope, we thrive.” “Yes Mother!” Neteyam replied quickly, feeling both encouraged and chastised.

His Dad chuckled again from the floor. “You’ll be surprised how effective your mother’s methods are.” Miraculously, he did not want to know what he meant by that.

>_<

Upon returning to the village, Ronal had ordered you to return to your pod, to which you had been too exhausted to argue.

There had been a flurry of movement beyond your woven walls as the message of your vision had spread and the adults had begun preparing. You had focused on cooking yourself something to eat.

Tonowari had turned up at your door not long after you’d finished descaling your fish, having apparently been banned from his own pod because Ronal and Tsireya needed complete concentration to look further into the issue using their herbs or whatever methods Tsahik’s favoured when searching for answers. Which led to now, sitting beside Tonowari in companionable silence. The Olo’eyktan had propped his spear up against the wall and immediately sat on the opposite side of the cooking pot. For a long while, he was quiet as he assisted you in cooking, and in return, you were sure to make enough for him to take back to his family for their own dinner. 

Your time spent with the Olo’eyktan was always calm like this. A gentle silence that was both soothing and comforting. Unlike your time spent with Ronal, which often left you feeling chastised or tired, her mate was a pleasant opposite. Not that you disliked spending time with the Tsahik, it was merely because she could be rather intense at times.

Of course, Tonowari was the gossip of the two, so he often had his moments.

<”I was surprised by your decision to stop teaching the Sully kids.”> He said casually, eyes never straying from the simmer of the cooking pot. You, in contrast, felt yourself wind tight with tension. Your gaze flickered up to his tattooed face, only to find him pretending to be the picture of ease as he focused on his task. He had taken up the stirring stick and had begun to mix the pot with slow, calculated strokes.

And then, just when you thought he was done and you could get away with not responding, he continued. <“Little Tuk looked awfully upset this morning when Tsireya told her you were attending to other duties.”>

The sneaky bastard. 

You forced your shoulders to loosen before you responded. <“Aonung needs to start pulling his weight. You cannot baby him forever.”> <“We both know this is not about Aonung.”> Tonowari returned calmly, and promptly steered the conversation back to where it was. <“So tell me, what is wrong?”>

You bit your lip to keep yourself from responding. So Aonung hadn’t been lying when he said Tonowari had noticed. 

When you did not respond, Tonowari took it as an invitation to continue to pry. 

<“You have ceased teaching a class that you were otherwise eager to help out with.”> He pointed out plainly. <”Tsireya tells me that you rarely go out anymore unless it is to complete your duties. Whereas your pod is now completely devoid of shells, when only last week you were tracking them all over the place. Ronal was tearing her hair out with how many she kept finding around the village.”> He chuckled softly to himself at the fond memory, probably having gotten a kick out of seeing his otherwise composed mate losing her composure because of something so small.

<”The other hunters and I have never seen so many of the same kind. Not since my grandfather’s time as Olo’eyktan, which very few of the older clan members recall.”> He continued almost nostalgically, <”so whoever this person is, Eywa must be incredibly insistent on this match.”> 

You tucked your chin to your chest to avoid looking at his cocky expression and to ensure you didn’t give anything away. 

<”Aonung told me of a disagreement that occurred on the walkways a few nights back.”> Tonowari probed, <”he spoke of a misunderstanding that is yet to be resolved-”>

<“Can we talk about something else?”> You interjected before startling as you realised you’d just cut him off. Your ears flattened as you glanced sheepishly at the Olo’eyktan who simply smiled back. There was a note of victory glittering in his eye, and you knew you’d just unintentionally revealed your hand. And like an akula with fresh prey in its jaws, there would be little chance of distracting Tonowari with a subject change. 

<”Please.”> You found yourself trying anyway, even if it would be a useless attempt. <”Anything but bloody shells and signs from Eywa?”>

That seemed to unsteady Tonowari for a heartbeat. <”Shells are part of our People.”> Tonowari lectured, the same story you’d heard since before you could walk. Since you’d shown interest in the pretty coloured shells that the People wore or adorned their homes with. <”They speak of good and bad times. Foretell our relationships and our losses, you will do well not to disregard them.”> <”I know.”> You implore him, and it’s true. You do know. You might even know better than anyone. The statement slips from between your lips like a forgotten prayer. Quiet and small like the words of the child you’re always pretending you’ve grown out of being. <”I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult few days.”>

He nodded. <”Care to share?”>

You swallow. <”Eywa made a mistake with the shells.”> You told him bluntly. 

Tonowari chuckled softly to himself, making your stomach twist. <”Eywa does not make mistakes on such a matter.”>

<”But she has!”> You insist more passionately than you’ve been this entire conversation. <”He-”> you swallowed loudly. <”He can’t be my fated, Olo’eyktan-”> <”Tonowari.”> Tonowari quickly corrected, helping to lighten the mood.

You scowl playfully at him and continue to address him with his title just because you know it makes him feel old. <”Clearly, Eywa has made a mistake, Olo’eyktan, because he’s terrified of me. Your mate is not supposed to be scared of you!”>

Tonowari hummed thoughtfully over this statement for a moment or two before an amused smile tugged at the right corner of his lips. <”You know, I was fearful of Ronal.”>

Your eyes widened at the blatant admission. <”Really? But you’re so comfortable around one another.”> <”Oh, we are now.”> Tonowari said simply. <”But before I knew her, and before we received any pink shells for one another, she scared me worse than any akula. I’d avoid her in the village and if she ever struck up a conversation with me, I’d desperately think up the first ridiculous excuse I could to get away.”>

He smiled fondly at the memory, not a hint of embarrassment on his expression. You watched his tail sway lazily, the picture of a doting mate thinking about the woman he had taken as his Tsahik. 

<”And, how did that change?”>

<”My brother, Totxa, tricked me into going on a two day hunting trip with her.”> Tonowari mused, grinning now. <”The ass only told me when I was packed and astride my tsurak that he was planning to woo his own fated and sent me on my way. Ronal had already saddled up and ordered me to follow so I was essentially trapped.”> 

He chuckled, nostalgic of a time long past. <”It was on that trip that Eywa sent the pink shells, and Ronal of course figured it out first. And she confronted me about it. Demanded to know why I was so spineless. Of course, calling me a coward immediately hurt my pride and she was rather amused by my sudden courage. We started courting on our return to the village.”> Somehow, you could see it. Tonowari and Ronal, much younger than you know them now, lost in the sea and the islands beyond the village, navigating the way and each other. You knew that the pair must have bounced off of each other well once they began to see eye to eye. And judging by the strong mated pair that watched over the village now, you knew that Eywa had not been mistaken in her decision for this match.

Even now, the pair wore tokens of their bond upon their person like ever fated couple. Ronal usually had a pink shell woven into her skirts, whilst in the low light of the fire, you could see the shine of Tonowari’s courting shell woven into the braided hide of his hunters band. The shell was located near the top of the special garment, above his heart. 

<"Where are you going with this?"> 

Tonowari studied you for a moment, head tilted in understanding. <”You are uncertain.”> He told you simply, <”you believe Eywa has made a mistake and you’re unsettled. But from where I stand, it seeming you’re truly the one scared, not whoever your fated is.”> He stated with wisdom that was usually bestowed by Ronal. <”Give it time. A village is not built in a day.”>

It was then that the curtain across the entrance of your pod was abruptly swept back and a figure stormed in.

Tonowari’s head snapped up from the cooking pot, as you turned sharply to find Neteyam stood awkwardly in the doorway of your home. His expression swiftly melted from that familiar determined scowl, to an ear lowered face of surprise and regret. 

You hadn’t seen him in days, having taken the time to purposefully avoid him whenever you could, and despite yourself, you found something in you soothed to see him back in your home like he had been so many times before. Looking all bashful as he seemed to shrink in the doorway.

<”Olo’eyktan.”> He greeted smoothly, touching his hand to his forehead.

Tonowari reflexively returned the gesture but made no move to stand from his spot by the fire. <”Neteyam.”> He greeted pleasantly, <”I assume you’re here to take Y/n off my hands?”> Neteyam spluttered, going unnaturally still as he stared unblinkingly down at the older man whilst you glared at him yourself. Tonowari, always the picture of control and calm, simply raised his gaze to meet the younger man. His voice was unfaltering in his next statement. 

<“They’ve been awfully upset as of late.”> He continued to your mortification. <“Very prickly. You wouldn’t happen to know why, would you Neteyam? They’re more secretive than the Great Mother sometimes.”> He chuckled to himself as if the joke was hilarious. 

You could feel your face burning as you continued to glare daggers into the side of Tonowari’s face.

Neteyam didn’t seem much better as he struggled to string together enough words for a response.

Not that you were paying attention now, as the world seemed to still when your gaze fell upon the necklace at his throat. Your mouth went dry, as if you’d eaten handfuls of sand, as your gaze locked on the sloppy knotwork and pink shells of your courting necklace. The very same necklace that should have been swept away from the current and lost to the depths of the sea. <“Where did you get that?”> You blurted accusingly, finding yourself rising to your feet with your teeth bared. The thrash of your tail and the scowl on your face could have rivalled Ronal’s fury. To his credit, Neteyam did not shrink away from you. If anything, he seemed to grow more confident in the face of your rage. 

<”We need to talk.”> He told you, but you brushed his demand aside to step closer, to draw yourself up and glare with all your might. <”Where. Did you get it?”> You repeated, slowly. Threateningly. 

His chin rose in defiance, Tonowari completely forgotten as his attention turned solely to you. <“My ilu returned it to me.”>

You scoffed at his choice of words. <“Returned?”> You repeated. <“You don’t-”>

Your words faltered as Neteyam broke eye contact and briefly returned his gaze to Tonowari. You followed his attention, catching sight of Tonowari nodding before you were startled by hands grabbing your knees and the wind getting knocked out of you as you were swung up and over Neteyam’s shoulder. Stunned by his forwardness, you stared dumbly down Neteyam’s back as he gave Tonowari a polite goodbye and began carrying you out of the pod.

Tonowari, the bastard, smiled encouragingly at you and waved. You stared back at him, jaw slack in shock.

It was only when Neteyam didn’t put you down and started carrying you down the walkways that your senses returned to you.

<”Put me down.”> You snarled.

He ignored you. 

So you began wiggling. Neteyam simply held you tighter, quiet and focused on his task. You made sure to complain the entire time, tugging at his braids, obscuring his view with your tail and trying to kick him in the stomach. All of which he either ignored or simply grabbed to make you stop wiggling. 

Deciding to conserve your energy for a master escape attempt once he let his guard down, you pretended to accept your fate as he approached the outer rim of the village that attached everything to the island. You could feel the amused gazes of the People on you as Neteyam confidently paraded you in front of their homes. It was when a hunter whistled at you that you found yourself losing your cool all over again, and you instead occupied your time in captivity by spitting every curse under the sun at anyone who looked at you funny. 

Eventually, the bounce of the walkway ceased to give way to the crunch of sand underfoot, but Neteyam did not pause once he reached the beach. He did not so much as glance around as he strode for the treeline. You could do nothing but watch Awa’atlu grow smaller and more obscured by leaves as the man carried you into the forest and out of sight.

Perhaps he’d find somewhere secluded and murder you to get out of having to be your mate. Or maybe he was finally going to blow up at you and make it official that he didn’t want anything to do with you. It would be a rather dramatic touch if he suddenly ripped off the courting necklace and threw it at you. Even you would respect the time and planning that would have been put into such an act. 

Before long, you began to recognise where he was taking you. You could hear the babble of a brook and knew that he was approaching the pond that sat at the centre of your secret place. You recognised the orange glow of the flowers that had begun to bloom along the banks and noticed the arched limbs of the tree Neteyam tried to teach you to climb up once. It had left you with a limp for several days when you had inevitably fallen out of it. 

Neteyam was gentle as he paused by the pond and carefully lowered you down to your feet. You tore away the moment your toes touched dirt. Expression venomous as you glared at him.

<”If you ever humiliate me like that in front of my people again, I will-”> <”Of course.”> Neteyam cut in, hands raised in a calming gesture. Your gaze caught on the bob of his throat making the necklace jump before his words drew your attention back up to his face. <”I understand, but hear me out first. There has been a huge misunderstanding.”>

You were both impressed by his sudden backbone and annoyed by his pleading look. In the soft glow of the plants, his glowing freckles looked more intricate than any galaxies you knew. They drew your attention from the determined line of his mouth, up the sweeping arches of his nose to his eyes, which were open and honest as he waited for your response.

He did not smile at you. And you did not scowl at him in return.

Instead, you struggled to inhale a much needed breath in an attempt to dissipate some of your annoyance. You had wanted to talk, and now you were being given a chance for an explanation. 

<”Speak.”> You instructed simply, turning briefly to find your usual rock that overlooked the small pond. Glowing insects swirled along the surface of the shallow water, weaving between the stems of plants and dancing along arching leaves. Despite their presence, the spot was quiet in a way the village was not. Willing to offer the illusion of privacy.

You sat on the rock with your attention still on Neteyam. He remained standing, fiddling with his hands as his tail swayed in his attempt to gather his words.

It seemed he was fumbling to continue. Perhaps having believed he wouldn’t make it this far. Which you found privately reassuring, in that he wasn’t aware of how easily you would bend to him. How willing you were to listen to his every word. How desperate you were for his attention. Even now, it was pathetic how utterly gone you were for him. 

With a deep breath, Neteyam spoke. <“I don’t want to be friends.”> He said plainly, and you found you would have preferred a punch to the gut instead. He paused, eyes expectant, and you realised he wanted your input. 

<”You don’t want to be friends?”> Your parroted back, expression twisting in confusion when he eyes blew comically wide in alarm. 

<”NO!”> He practically yelled at you, taking half a step closer, only to freeze when you jerked at the sudden outburst. He apologised before continuing. <”That’s not what I meant.”>

<”So you do want to be friends?”> <”No! Yes! Wait!”> In his growing panic, he was tripping over himself and cursing in his father’s tongue. If your heart wasn’t pounding so painfully, you would have found his struggle amusing. Finally, he sighed and muttered to himself, <”Eywa why is this so bloody hard!”>

You tried to prod him along. Your meal would be finished soon, and if you were away too long, Aonung was bound to eat your portion behind Tonowari’s back. <”So you find it difficult to be open with me?”> <”No!”> He declared for the third confusing time. <”That is not at all what I’m saying. What I’m trying to get at is-”> He faltered before, slumping in defeat. He dragged a tired hand down the side of his face, before closing the distance between you and dropping heavily down onto the rock beside you - his usual spot. Curling in on himself, he ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, as he groaned to himself. <”How have I already managed to royally fuck this up so quickly?”>

You didn’t bother responding, knowing that he was berating himself instead of looking for a proper explanation. 

With a deep breath, he pulled his hands away and turned to you with refound resolve. <”That is not at all how I intended for that to come out. I meant I don’t want us to be just friends. I want to be more than friends. Like we were. Before everything went to shit.”> You blinked, having not expected that response. 

<”What are you saying?”> <”I’m saying-”>

He paused, eyes catching on something. You went still as his hand slowly rose from his lap, ghosting over your ear and pulling something from your hair. It was so familiar of a gesture, that you couldn’t help but be soothed by the familiarity in which he did it. His ears were fanned out now, curious. You expected him to offer the shell to you. You expected the pink to be bright and glowing with newfound love and understanding.

Instead, Neteyam held out a black shell. 

You felt the colour drain from your face.

<”What does this one mean?”> 

Someone is going to die.

Ronal’s words from that distant day on the beach rang in your ears as you stared blankly down at the aged shell in Neteyam’s hands. There was no doubt it was the same one from your vision. Staring down at it now, you could see the similarities of the situation. From Neteyam’s confused question, to the courting necklace at his throat. 

You swallowed dryly. <”We must return to the village.”> You told him quickly, rising from your feet and grabbing at his wrists to drag him up after you. His curiosity morphed into confusion. 

<”What? But we just got here? We’ve barely said anything.”> <”It must wait. This shell, its appearance does not foretell something good. It is a bad omen. A warning. We must go!”>

<”Wait. Wait. Slow down, you’re not making any sense.”>

<”There is not time!”>

His brows furrowed as he pulled back on your arms, trying to keep you in place, but you were stronger. Just barely, and managed to drag him forward a step or two. Neteyam’s tail snapped, his confusion morphing into frustration, but you didn’t care. You had to get him somewhere safe. You had to warn Ronal. Something wasn’t right. 

As if on cue, something rustled in the bushes on the opposite side of the pond. Neteyam went still in your grasp, which was the opposite of what you needed him to do. Both of your ears pricked as you heard panicked footsteps charging through the undergrowth, headed straight for you. 

Neteyam was still clutching that blasted shell in his hands. 

The footsteps were drawing closer. Small and fast. You felt your heartbeat picking up and drew your knife at the same time that Neteyam reached for his. 

The bushes were shaking harder now as someone or something pushed through, before stumbling to a halt before the riverbank. It did not glow like the rest of Eywa’s children, which immediately turned your instincts alert and defensive. It was breathing hard, shiny from sweat and smelt of smoke and salt. 

Neteyam drew in close to your side, stiff as the pair of you stared down the unnaturally small creature. Even at a distance, you knew it would only come up to your bicep, whereas it was dirty and skinny, with a shock of dead grass coloured dreads matted at its scalp. You caught sight of faded blue stripes against unnaturally pale skin, but knew this was not any kind of forest na’vi.

With that part of your vision not matching up, you found yourself calming slightly. Across the pond, the creature spotted you with wide, brown ears. Its face was sealed away behind some sort of see-through contraption, not that you had time to focus on it for long, because Neteyam seemed to recognise it.

He called out to the little creature, using that odd language that all of his family spoke. He even went as far as to wave it over. You grabbed his hand again, growling lowly to quiet him from encouraging it, but Neteyam paid you no mind.

Across the pond, the creature had stiffened at the use of that odd language. It took an unsteady step closer, and you found yourself snarling a warning, which startled it back a step or two. 

Neteyam touched your shoulder, drawing your attention away from it. <”Be calm.”> He soothed, with the voice he used to his ilu. You scowled back, feeling anything but calm. <”He is my brother.”>

Your face scrunched in confusion as you allowed your knife hand to drop a little. Studying the hesitant creature again, you found no similarities between Neteyam and it. <”He is your brother?”> <”I am?”> The creature questioned, sounding just as confused as you. Your attention snapped back to it, mildly distracted by its fluent na’vi.

Neteyam huffed. <”Of course you are. Where the hell have you been? You’re supposed to be kidnapped.”> <”I escaped.”> The creature returned, finally finding the courage to round the pond and approach. It kept a wary eye on you, and walked closer to Neteyam than your scowling form. <”Did a hell of a lot of running and swimming to get here. Quaritch was investigating one of the nearby sea clans and I made a break for it when the bastard had his back turned.”> It looked quite pleased for itself for a moment before a realisation crept into its expression and its eyes widened comically as it remembered something. <”But Quaritch is after me! We have to go!”>

Neteyam’s posture immediately changed. <”You led him to us?”> <”There’s a tracker in my mask.”> The boy pleaded. <”I didn’t have a spare.”>

As if on cue, more thunderous footsteps disturbed the undergrowth. Your ears pricked, picking up on the heaviness of the tread and the snap of twigs underfoot. There was a metallic click from deeper in the trees. Your eyes narrowed, as the moonlight glinted off of something unnaturally shiny. The reflection was long and narrow, whilst the plant life of Pandora usually omitted a gentle and rounded glow. The shine shifted, and a face appeared near the back of it. You stiffened as you recognised the unnatural features of a forest na’vi.

The first bang startled the birds from the trees.

By the second, Neteyam had tackled you from the side and sent you sprawling into the dirt. The air was punched from you as you landed hard on your back, only managing to suck in a breath when Neteyam lifted off you to grab the creature by the wrist and drag him down with you. 

<”Hide!”> The little thing hissed, rising onto its knees to crawl through the undergrowth away from where the sound had come from. Rattled by the loud noise, you numbly followed. Neteyam lurked close to your side, a hand on your back to keep you low, whilst he clutched his knife tightly in the other. You don’t know when he dropped the shell, but you were thankful it was gone anyway.

“What is it Mansk?” An alien voice hissed from the shadows.

“Thought I saw a couple of na’vi with the kid.” 

There was a thoughtful hum in response.

The three of you kept crawling, making sure to keep to the thicker cover and to disturb as little undergrowth as was possible. You found yourself leading the way. You’d grown up foraging these woods, you knew of the cave system tucked away on the east side, should your pursuers get between you and the village. 

“Tracker says he’s this way.”

A moment of stillness. 

“Got ‘em.”

The forest was lit up by the orange of a fire before a second bang made your ears ring. You dart to the left, biting down hard on your knife handle so that you had both hands free. 

Neteyam and Spider disappeared briefly between the leaves. 

You heard your pursuers approaching loudly and pressed your back into a tree. Sliding up the bark so you were back on your feet, you slowly rounded the tree, ears keeping track of where exactly each were. 

“There he is.” You were behind the pair of them now, knife back in hand as you took in the weird armour of the na’vi in your vision. The unnatural weapons and the arrogance of a race that had been the apex predator of their ecosystem. These people had clearly not grown up alongside the rules of Eywa. You noted the line of destruction in their wake. How the grass they had trampled no longer glowed with life and how they had bent branches and bushes out of place to force their way forward instead of finding natural breaks and openings. 

<”We have to go!”> Neteyam’s brother yelled from somewhere in the darkness, and the pair of alien’s snapped to attention. Both raising their destructive weapons that harnessed fire. 

<”This way.”> Neteyam replied, and you saw the grass wave as someone passed through it. 

The aliens saw it too, tensing as they aimed, so you did something Ronal would punish you for later. You allowed your foot to drop on a twig, feeling the bark crunch and snap under your weight. Both soldiers went unnaturally still. You twirled your knife into a more secure grip before charging. 

The duo spun, one firing as he turned. Whilst the other let out a scream as you descended upon him. He backpedalled desperately at your swift approach, clearly terrified that something of your stature could move so quickly on dry land. His companion kept firing. Landing hits to your abdomen. Leaving wounds in your legs. Your arms. Trying and failing to slow you down as you tackled the first demon.

<”GO FOR THE NECK!”> Neteyam’s brother yelled from the bushes, guiding your hands as you slammed the demon down flat on its back so that its head connected with the earth hard. Its weapon slipped from its grasp, disappearing between the glowing trees as the visor protecting its eyes from you slipped down its nose. Too small, terrified, golden eyes stared up at your snarling face as you brought your knife down hard. 

Its neck split open easily on your sharpened blade, allowing red to stick to your fingers. It gargled, choking on its lifeforce before it let out a last wet sound and promptly died. 

Its companion barely gave you a moment to rise from the body before it was slamming the butt of its weapon into your temple. The weapon crumbled in on itself from the force as a weak pain shot through the side of your head. Slowly, menacingly, you turned to glare up into the face of another demon, who stared frozen down at its ruined weapon. A weapon which had been no match for the reinforced bone of your skull.

You heard the demon audibly swallow and felt its fear stroke your ego as you effortlessly shifted your weight from your knees to the balls of your toes so that you were crouched over the fresh corpse. And with a precise swipe of your blade, you forced the soldier to deflect your knife with its battered gun. Reeling from the force it took to keep your weapon from slicing into its abdomen, you pushed down hard on the weapon to force them back a step before snatching the knife back. The demon struggled to keep its footing, arms windmilling, which gave you just large enough of an opening to dart forward and sink your knife up through its ribs. 

The breath was punched from the alien as you hit a lung. 

Yanking your knife free, you rose to your feet as the body collapsed with a wet thump. The glowing freckles dotted across its cheeks flickered as the demon tried sucking in another breath before going still. The light produced by the body followed suit as it died and went dark. 

Adrenaline kept your guilt at bay. It had not been a clean kill. A clean kill would have been an instant death without the wasted spilling of blood which could be used. 

“Holy shit.” 

Your head snapped up to find Neteyam’s brother emerging from between the leaves, staring down at the corpses with mild awe. <”How did you make that look easy?”> He demanded with a pinched smile. There was something unknown plaguing his face when you looked down at him, something that made your stomach pinch uncomfortably.

Not that Neteyam gave you any time to analyse the boy, because he came charging out of the undergrowth with little to no warning. His eyes flickered from the bodies to your bleeding form, knuckles tight on his knife. 

<”Are you both okay?”> You found yourself asking, although you couldn’t see blood on either of them.

<”Us?”> Neteyam bit back, sounding more hysterical than furious. “What the hell was that? Do you know how dangerous they are? You almost gave me a heart attack! They could’ve killed you at least twice!” That alien language was back now, making his brother smile as Neteyam grabbed your head between his hands and shook you.

<”I don’t understand.”> You asked uncertainly.

<”Never do that again!”> He yelled at you, and somehow you knew the simple sentence didn’t match up to the abundance of words that had just split out of him. <”Eywa, you scared me.”>

His hands slid back into your hair, grabbing at the back of your head and pulling your head down into his chest where he held you for a moment. You found yourself soothed by the frantic pace of his heart, and how he was willing to touch you despite the blood that was no doubt being transferred to his skin.

“As cute as this is Neteyam, and as much as I want the full story, there’s still recoms after us.” 

“Right.” Neteyam replied before switching back to na’vi. <”We need to go.”>

<”You should have gone earlier. What were you still doing lurking in the bushes?”> You argued as you pulled back far enough to shoot him a displeased look. <”I wasn’t going to leave you!”>

<”You should’ve gotten Tonowari!”>

<”It doesn’t matter now. We’ll go together.”> He made quick work of his suggestion, grabbing your hand in his and encouraging his brother to stick close. 

It didn’t take long to clear the forest. The three of you emerge onto the beach out of sight of the village due to the curve of the island. But if you remained hugging the treeline, you’d reach it within no time. 

No one spoke. The brother had taken to picking up rocks as he walked, which you assumed he’d use if you came across anything else lurking in the undergrowth. Whilst Neteyam kept a firm hold on your hand as he walked closest to the treeline. 

<"How are your injuries?"> He asked quietly, gaze still flickering between his brother and the trees. You were warmed by how protective of the boy he seemed to be. Clearly, there was a complex history here. 

<"I can’t feel them yet."> You said honestly, even though you knew that the minute you stopped to breathe, you’d be able to do nothing BUT feel them.

Neteyam squeezed your hand knowingly. <"Once we get you looked at by the Tsahik, why don’t we go for an ilu ride? I’ve missed it.">

You glanced up at him, caught off guard by the sweet comment. He was already looking at you, all bright eyed and open faced, warm despite the situation. 

A genuine smile emerged onto your face at the suggestion as something in you loosened. <"I would like tha-">

A bang had all three of you instinctively flinching.

You pulled at Neteyam’s hand, trying to drag him to cover, only for him to grunt and trip over his own feet. A pained wheeze escaping his lungs as if all the breath had been knocked out of him. His brother let out a wounded sound, and despite the danger, raced back to his side as Neteyam didn’t move. His grip remained strong on your hand for a heartbeat before he abruptly crumbled.

Between you, you managed to keep him from splitting his head open on some concealed rock hidden beneath the sand. 

Within heartbeats, there was blood everywhere. Slipping out of the gaping wound in his shoulder, spilling down his chest and over his stomach, running over his shoulder and wetting the sand. His brother was quick to press his little hands down against the entry wound, but there was so much blood. It dirtied the courting necklace at his throat which jumped and shivered at each desperate, sharp breath he dragged into his weak lungs. 

<"Neteyam?"> His brother begged, but the sound was distant, as if you were back underwater suppressing a panic attack. Neteyam was grabbing at him weakly, trying to find words, but struggling to breathe more. <”Oh no. Neytiri is going to kill me!”>

Another click of that stupid weapon from the undergrowth.

Your head snapped up.

There was something white hot and writhing collecting in your belly. Something deranged and unnerving. It clouded your vision and coaxed you into pulling back your lips and barring your fangs into a ferocious hiss at the alien hiding between the trees. Neteyam was grabbing weakly for your arm, trying to keep you close, but you only had eyes for the threat.

You knew you were thinking clearly as you rose to your feet. You knew that the stress and fear had finally made you snap. You also knew that you wanted them to suffer. You wanted to see them bleed. You wanted them dead.

Neteyam was still grabbing at your arms. His eyes wide and panicked, his every breath punched out of him with a painful, twisting wheeze. You couldn’t leave him like this. 

<”We need to go!”> Neteyam’s brother insisted, and you found yourself nodding. The instinctual fog that had fallen over you made it hard to form words, so you followed his instructions instead.

With your bloody knife clutched tightly between your teeth, you stooped to grab at Neteyam’s armpits. He squirmed and screamed in pain as you hoisted him up. His voice hitching up in octaves, his pained wails chasing after the waves as you began frantically dragging him away from the trees, towards the village. 

His brother kept pace. Speaking hurriedly in his alien language. Frantically glancing from Neteyam to the trees and back again. You could feel yourself growing more frantic, your pupils narrowing into slits at the smear of red Neteyam’s limp body dragged down the white sand beaches.

It was because you were staring blankly at the bloodstain that you noticed the token slipping out of Neteyam’s belt and flopping uselessly to the sand. The pink shells were streaked with red, which the sand quickly clung to. 

Neteyam started squirming anew. Struggling against you and making aborted reaches for it. <”S-st-op.”> He begged, his syllables slurring together. 

<”Don’t worry Neteyam.”> Spider assured him, darting back up the beach to retrieve it. You kept dragging, and Spider ran to catch up with you. <”I’ve got it.”> He promised, showing Neteyam the bloodied necklace. The body in your arms lost some of its tension at the sight of it. 

<”Th-ank yo-u.”> He whispered repeatedly, soft as a prayer. <”Tha-ank yo-ou. Thank y-ou.”>

Movement from the trees drew your attention from the pair. Your head snapped up, to find yet another demon stepping out into the moonlight. A companion was seconds behind, its weapon already raised and aimed. 

<”Go away.”> You snarled around your knife hilt, panic making you pull Neteyam along harder. His brother went rigid, a single stone clutched in his tiny hand which he tightened around it. Preparing to hurl it. 

The demons did not do as you warned.

Your fury was resurfacing. Faster and faster. Higher and higher. Hotter and hotter until you could hardly contain it. 

Slowing your pace, you spat your knife into your hand as you began lowering Neteyam’s wounded body to the sand. <”Stay with him.”> You hissed at Neteyam's brother, who’s breath faltered. He met your gaze, and you found that he looked terrified. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. 

The demons were jogging towards you now. Yelling in a language you did not speak. And advancing with microexpressions that screamed aggression. That practically invited you to lose your shit.

<”Go away!”> You repeated, a hiss slipping into the words.

They kept coming closer.

You made to pull away from the pair, but Neteyam grabbed at you. His grip was weak but his expression screamed panic. He was hurting badly. But he still clung to you. Making sad, frantic sounds. His brother helped you pry his fingers off, just in time for you to deflect the first strike of one of the demons. 

From there, pure, unfiltered instinct took over. You bit and clawed like a na’vi possessed. Every blow you struck was fueled by all your pent up stress and frustration of the past few days. You moved with precision. Whilst the strikes of the demons flowed into one another, your only beat was the pounding of your own hear. Where the demons struck with finesse and practice, you moved like a restless tempest. Relentless and unforgiving.

It was over before it truly began. 

The demons were dead at your feet. Their blood staining the sand, and your skin. There was skin stuck between your teeth and sticky blood beneath your nails. But you did not care.

As the last one lay dying, you turned back to your friend. To his brother, who had thrown himself over his much larger sibling in some pathetic attempt to protect him. 

Blood dripped from your chin as you approached, weaving scarlet rivers down your chest towards your feet. What a sight you must have made. 

And yet, somehow, Neteyam was bloodier. His body collapsed at an uncomfortable angle against the sand, a hand clenched around his bloodied token. His face was pale, but his eyes still saw you. Still looked into you with more knowledge than anyone had the right to.

He did not look afraid, despite the state of him. Despite witnessing what you had just done with only a knife and your teeth. In fact, he almost looked proud. But that was clearly just wishful thinking on your part.

<”Don’t just stand there!”> His brother abruptly screamed, tearing you out of your head. You blinked back the fog, struggling to find autonomy over your limbs again as you realised that the kid had tears streaming down his face behind his mask. <”Help him! He’s dying!”>

Previous Chapter <- Part 2 -> Next Chapter

#Neteyam x Reader #Part 2 of 3 #character injury #Neteyam gets shot #he's fine #just needs to walk it off #violence #further misunderstandings #did I mention shells? #yeah #because there's a fuck tonne of them #bad omens #Jake should never EVER be giving his kids dating advice #we all saw how that went down in avatar #avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #Neteyam lives

[cakemousse]

part 1

part 3

#ml polls #paris special #PART 2 OF 3 #miraculous ladybug #toxinelle #shadybug #chat noir

[ngalu]

#incorrect stranger things quotes #byler #part 2 of 3

[iamnotthere-idonotdie]

adored, pt. 2

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synopsis: reader and bruce haven’t seen each other in two weeks. they don’t know where the relationship stands, or if there’s one at all. they’ve had to deal with the press finding out about that first night together, and are continuing to navigate through the public eye.

warnings: bruce wayne (battinson) x reader, start and implication of sex but it’s not written out

a/n: i’m not in love with this part 2 and i couldn’t figure out how to make it longer/more interesting, i guess it’s more of a transition to part 3, i was interested to bring in the aspect of bruce wayne’s publicity and him being a public figure but i had some trouble putting it together, i was also inspired by the song edge of my seat by lume, so go listen to that if you’d like (full playlist here), like last part too there’s probably typos and ooc things that bruce does/says but this is just kinda where the story went while i was writing it

edit: link to part 1

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“mr. bill isn’t in right now, can i take a message?”

you’re getting better at that. at sounding like you actually wanna be here. you keep glancing at the clock, begging for the day to be over.

“thank you, i will be sure to get that message to him right away. have a great day”

it’s been two weeks now since… him.

you’ve been hoping you’d run into him somewhere, but of course you haven’t seen him since that morning. when you two sat in your chairs for two hours, drinking coffee, just enjoying each others comfortable silence.

he left that afternoon, but you’ll never forget when you were seeing him out, and as you were saying goodbye, he leaned in and kissed you one last time.

you’ve been yearning for that again, for that feeling of being wanted. you haven’t been able to get that again.

joe left that next day. he said he’d been seeing someone for a while, that that’s where we actually went that weekend, to see him. of course you were hurt by this, but you knew it was for the best. you two hadn’t been in it for a while. you’re just glad he’s the one who moved out. you love that apartment.

finally, the clock says 5:01 and you pack up your things and start to leave.

the press had a heyday when they saw bruce leaving your apartment that afternoon. you didn’t even know how they’d found him, but headline after headline speculated who’s apartment he was walking out of. of course, no one ever figured it out, and the story blew over as quickly as it started. you just wish you could call him and ask him… if that night meant to him what it meant to you. if he also felt that tension, that aching, and now if he feels as empty as you do that you haven’t seen each other.

maybe it was for the best though that it was just that one night. maybe it wasn’t meant to be. you two were astronomically different anyway. he’s an actual billionaire, and you’re a secretary. you’re running all these things through your mind as you take the train home. when you get back to your apartment finally, you just stand in your living room for a second, in a daze, thinking… what now? after much contemplation, you look over in your bedroom and see your outfit you set aside in case you’d ever want to go back to that bar. last time you just went in whatever you wore to work, but you decided two weeks ago that if you went back you’d want to dress nicer. it’s just been sitting there, unused. a few minutes go by of you just staring at the garment, and then you go in to put it on.

you hail a cab and and ask to go to the jade jewel. your hands shake the whole drive and you start regretting this decision. it’s been two weeks. what do you expect to see? and if he is there, then what do you even say to him? the decision’s made for you though, because you arrive at the bar. you thank the driver and head inside.

you sit at the same table in the back and order your drink, an old fashioned, just like last time. you sit there, squirming in your seat, drinking your cocktail way too fast, and can’t even pay attention to the music because you’re so nervous. why are you so nervous? he’s not coming. why would he?

an hour goes by, you’ve finished your drink, and the room is getting more and more crowded with every tick of the minute hand. you all but decide to leave when you glance up and see bruce walk in. he looks around the bar for a second, then his eyes land on you. and he smiles. you smile back. he stops at the bar and gets his drink while on his way to you, leaving what looks like a very generous tip in the jar. as he’s coming over you notice he has your usual in his other hand.

“you’re here.” you say.

“i’ve been here three times in the last two weeks. i was hoping to see you.” he says with a smirk.

you feel yourself blush.

“i’ve been hoping to see you too.”

he sits down and hands you your drink.

“thank you.” you say.

the two of you sit there at the table listening to the music, sipping your drinks. he finishes his first then goes to get another, but not before asking if you need a refill too. you decline; you’d rather not get sloppy drunk in front of bruce wayne, not tonight at least.

he comes back to the table and sits, this time not-so-subtly scooting his chair closer to you.

“so, how have you been?” he asks.

“i’ve been okay. mostly just working.”

“me too.” he says, as he looks down at his drink.

you pause for a second, then break the silence with something that’s been on your mind every day for the past two weeks.

“i’m sorry, by the way. about the paparazzi.” you say, looking down.

“it’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

“i just wouldn’t want them to do that again, you know?” you look at him, hopefully telling him through your eyes that you don’t want to risk this getting out… but that you also don’t want to leave alone tonight.

“well… they wouldn’t think anything of it if i’m just at home, right?”

you can read between the lines.

“yeah, i guess so. they wouldn’t notice me coming out though? of your place?”

“i have ways around that.” he says with a slight smirk.

you smile back at him.

the next few hours at the bar is spent with the two of you talking, drinking, dancing, kissing. you’re surprised no one in the bar is noticing it but you’ve picked a convenient spot for the two of you that’s fairly unassuming. you just can’t believe the story hasn’t gotten out yet that bruce wayne is here. with you.

as the night gets darker and bar gets emptier, you decide to take the night back to his house. you walk to the door, hand in hand, and you’re met with lightning flashes of cameras blinding you the minute you walk out of the bar. the two of you are stunned and then suddenly bruce is wrapping his arm around you and covering your face with his jacket as he rushes you to his car. you both get in the back and he instructs the driver to take you both home.

you catch your breath as you try to fathom what exactly just happened. someone at the bar must have let it spill that he was there. and now the press knows he was with you. it’ll be all over the news: bruce wayne seen with unknown date at dive bar. you can’t help but feel guilty, knowing that if he hadn’t been to your apartment two weeks ago then this never would’ve happened. you look over at bruce and he’s staring out the window of the car.

you don’t know what to say. maybe you shouldn’t say anything.

the two of you make it back to his home, luckily the press isn’t here, not yet at least. so you quickly make it inside. the two of you still haven’t spoken yet. he just goes to his living room and sits in a big armchair. you follow, and sit on a couch across from him.

he seems to be contemplating something. maybe you, whether this is all worth it.

“i’m sorry,” he says, breaking the long silence. “this isn’t fair to you. you didn’t sign up for this.”

“neither did you.”

“but i should’ve been smarter about it.” he says, clearly frustrated.

“really, i’ll be okay.” you try to reassure him.

“i just don’t want… i don’t want to lose…” he trails off, looking down at his hands.

“lose what?”

his status, his reputation? …you?

he gives you your answer by standing up from the chair and sitting down on the couch next to you, and kissing you. the two of you sit there, slowly intertwining with each other, trying to forget the world outside.

and for a little while, you do. for a little while, you forget about them, the flocks of vultures coming to see what stories they can drum up. you forget about the people on tv and on the internet making up narratives and theorizing about who you are. you forget about the bright lights coming for him, coming for you.

and you two just stay there, on the edge of the seat, becoming one.

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#the batman #battinson #bruce wayne #fanfic #robert pattinson #bruce wayne x reader #pictures from pinterest #part 2 of 3 #part 2 #part 3 coming soon #batman

[charlie1gam]

More sparkly 8:11 gifs :3

Part 2

(Part 1 ; Part 3)

#charlie1gam #8:11 game #811 game #8:11 accardi #8:11 juliek #8:11 ryker #8:11 vittorino #gifs #this is so stupid #part 2 of 3

[k-4-ni]

A SAVIOUR'S SECOND REGRET

[ Jason todd x f!reader ] SFW / Mentions of blood.

Part 1 here.

Why did you think that bringing Jason to your home was a good idea? Especially after everything that you went through... Because of him.

Was it because he apologised for his actions? Was it because you craved for his touch once more, especially after a long time apart?

Or was it simply because you couldn't bare the thought of him bleeding out on the floor, because of you.

He was your saviour after all.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Jason lies, hissing through his teeth as you gently dabbed the alcohol drenched cotton ball on his wounded skin, It’s not that he’s a bad liar, but there's a bullet wound from when he shielded you away from the outside world, unable to move. “I’ll handle it myself.”

"Even after all these years, you're still a bad liar."

You snorted softly, dragging the cotton ball against his marked skin, leaving a wet trail across his forearm as he bled out on your carpet.

A teasing grin stretched the ends of your lips, sucking in a sharp breath as you kept your eyes fixated on his wound and his wound only.

Jason grimaces. There was no use hiding it from you, and he knew it. But being found out is so much more embarrassing. He’s not used to being vulnerable like this in front of you. But do you care?

Your smile takes him slightly aback, and he has to resist not scowling at the sting of the alcohol. He’s already got a pretty high pain tolerance, but his injuries are beginning to get to him. Perhaps fibbing was a poor choice.

“Yeah…” he mumbles, looking away slightly as he thickly swallows. “I’m not exactly in the best state to be convincing anyone of anything.”

He can’t help but notice your gaze and his cheeks heat narrowly out of chagrin. You were just doing what any considerate roommate would do, he tells himself—but you’re not exactly just his roommate, are you? Jason wonders if there is any point in fighting it.

“You… You don’t have to clean up after me,” he says softly, his gaze focused on the floor. Your touch is strangely comforting—what if he simply enjoyed the feeling and the attention? Would that be so strange?

"Jason... We're back together, as a couple this time... Just let me help you, Okay?"

You tilted your head slightly up at him, darting your pleading eyes over to his hardened gaze before lowering it back to his wound.

You were determined to nurture him back to health, This was your way of thanking him, Who else would throw themselves at you from flying bullets?

You threw away the now bloody cotton ball, reaching into the first aid kit for a needle and a string.

Jason’s gaze sharpens scarcely in astonishment. A piece of him is pleased that you’re so invested in taking care of him, but another part is slightly uneasy. Does he really need all this attention?

Still, he’s never had a caring, doting partner before. He always assumed his relationships would be casual at best. But now that he’s with you… He delights in the thought of being spoiled by someone who truly wants nothing in return but to see Jason happy.

"I can handle it myself, [Name]."

"I'm not leaving you to bleed out on the carpet, am I?"

You cocked an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at the open wound.

"Just—... Tell me if this hurts, okay?"

You warned, raising your eyebrows amd giving him a knowing look before piercing the needle through his skin.

Jason can’t help but wince as the needle sinks in, but he doesn’t allow out any more of a sound. He puts up with a few deep breaths and forces himself to relax. He can feel a few tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. His eyes widen as you pierce the needle, and he has to bite his lip to keep from wincing and twitching once more, He’s always been able to overlook the pain for the sake of looking tough, but your presence is enough to make him forget that.

“Oohh…,” he grits out. “Yeah….”

The look you shoot him is a bit ominous, and Jason is too preoccupied by the pain to raise a question.

But he doesn’t want to show any further vulnerability to you, so he tries to play it off with a laugh.

Sure, the scene where he begged and hugged you to comfort you in the middle of a pile of dead bodies and on a battlefield was a different scenario, But now that he knows you are a couple, that you're back together... That's a whole additional narrative.

"You good up there, Babe?"

You muttered softly, your nose crinkling in determination as you stitched your boyfriend back together, blood seeping out of his wound, painting your fingers red.

Your gaze flickered to his scrunched-up face, checking up on him now and then with an intrigued glint in your eye.

“Mm…” Jason makes slight noise of approval as you work, and he even finds himself grinning a bit. He’s not positively convinced why you’re so attentive with such a minor injury, and he’s not entirely sure that he wants you to stop.

Jason keeps a neutral expression, letting out a few quiet grunts and groans as you stitch him up. It’s painful, but not excruciating.

“So… Uh…” He clears his throat, making an effort to break the silence. “How’ve you been?”

“You’re uh… you’re not using my good sewing kit, are you?” He asks, peeking down at the needle and thread which are probably permanently stained with his blood.

"You doofus, how could I?"

You chuckled softly, your voice with a note of mockery as you slid the thread in and out of his flesh, thickly swallowing the forming lump in your throat.

Jason smiles at the endearingly familiar insult, and offers up a weak, exhausted chuckle. You know how to get him out of his head.

Once the wound is sealed, Jason reaches out and presses his hand over the now bloody stitches. He sucks in a few shaky breaths, focusing on the sensation of the needle and thread in his body.

“Mm… that’s gonna be sore tomorrow,” he observes, though his voice is less strained and more relaxed.

"You're welcome."

You muttered almost mockingly, your lip twitching in irritation at the sight of his blood drenching your fingers.

You stood up with a crack of your knees, curling and stretching your sore limbs before sauntering over to the kitchen counter and cleaning the bloody mess of cotton balls and needles.

“You didn’t have to put stitches in me,” Jason calls after you, sounding both teasing and a bit mortified. He is more than capable of taking care of a small wound like this by himself.

Jason gradually gets up on shaky legs and hobbles over to the sink. After a few deep breaths, he yanks off a few paper towels and uses them to swab the blood off of his hands. Jason takes in the apartment around him, which is admittedly nicer than he envisioned.

He takes in the apartment, noting that everything has a touch of femininity which indicates that you live here alone. Some of the homey touches include a collection of small potted plants, a basket of extra pillows, and a warm, cosy rug in the living room.

Jason’s gaze settles on a framed photograph that is propped up on one of the end tables. The picture shows you and Jason on a couch that looks similar to the one in the living room. There is a soft smile on your face and a hand wrapped around his, what a cute couple.

He hears your footsteps approaching him, so Jason spins around to see you walk in with the bloody needle and cotton balls. You look a bit tired, and his first instinct is to tell you to sit down. But he swallows the instinct, not wanting to annoy you with unnecessary concern.

Jason’s eyes drift back to you, and his eyebrows raise. Your hair is a ruffled mess, you have a few smudges of his blood on your shirt. Jason’s gaze flickers to your mouth, which is currently stained with his blood. Your soft red lips, God how much did he miss your lips?

"I have a spare shirt you can wear."

You dipped your hands into the sink, watching as all the blood melted away along with the water, jerking your hands dry as you darted your gaze over to Jason.

A small, tight smile curled your lips, cocking an eyebrow up at him before speaking in a virtually teasing tone.

"What's up with you?"

Jason’s gaze flickers down to your chin, your lips, then back up to your eyes. The realization of what just happened is starting to hit him like a wave, and your warm smile and teasing voice aren’t helping things. He suddenly feels… flushed.

“N-nothing,” he mumbles quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he averts his gaze. “I mean, nothing at all.”

There’s a strange urge to lean forward, to taste his blood. To draw his lips down against yours. The fact that he's even thinking about it is a little off-putting, but his body seems to be responding to you without his knowledge.

You lingered your gaze on Jason only for a few long moments, He wasn't usually like this, Was it because you were finally back together?

You couldn't help the sensation of scepticism to fill your thoughts, your blood running cold as you lower your gaze to the sink instead, washing off the last smudges of blood before turning off the tap.

"So—... What now?"

“Huh?” He asks, sounding like he was just dragged out of a daydream.

The feeling of your eyes on him lingers heavily, filling him with strange urges and emotions that he’d rather not confront. But with your body this close to his, and your lips stained with his blood, Jason has a hard time focusing on anything else.

Jason shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of the urges he's feeling. He doesn't want to take advantage of you or ruin your relationship just because of some blood or his own lust.

"You should get cleaned up... Get some rest," Jason mutters, attempting to convince himself that this is what you both want. "You saved me once again, so I'll prepare us dinner."

#tumblr #new writers on tumblr #scenario #jason todd #writer #dc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #redhood #daddy jason #sfw little post #sfw interaction only #part 2 of 3 #Part 2 #long ass post

[dawntainbobbynash]

We still don’t know what happened here.

Requested by anon

#911verse #daily118 #ebbgifs #911edit #bobbynashedit #athenagrantedit #bathenaedit #bobby nash #athena grant #bathena #911 #mine. #gifs #bobby #athena #part 2 of 3

[millenniumdueled]

Without another moment's hesitation, the Other Yugi races forward. His heart pounds in his ears as he skids down the steep embankment to the canyon below.

It's impossible.

That can't be Yugi standing there inside that ring of rocks and ruins.

There's just no way.

His soul is gone, sealed by the Orichalcos.

But the Other One keeps going. His feet find the solid ground of the canyon, and he takes off running. The Puzzle beats against his chest along with his heart.

"Partner--!!!" he cries out again.

As he nears the circles, his pace slows. That uneasy sensation he'd felt before turns into something more like dread. A chill runs through him, despite the hot, dry air. Something seems to tug at his arms and clothes, like cold hands trying to hold him back. Overhead, the oppressive sunlight turns to dark clouds that roll in suddenly with a rumble of thunder.

The Other Yugi puts a hand around the Puzzle's chain, gripping it tightly as he continues in spite of the hands that try to stop him. But he doesn't run now, walking cautiously but firmly toward the figure inside those circles.

Voices fill his ears.

"Look at what you've done, Pharaoh," growls the deep voice of Marik, the dark side of him that Other Yugi once fought.

Those hands that try to hold him back take shape now. The ghosts of his past enemies rise from the sand to block his path.

Pegasus. The ventriloquist. Strings. Arcana. Kaiba.

All the classmates he'd inflicted with insanity, blindness, nightmares, even death.

They all stare him down now.

"Monster."

"Sadist."

"Murderer."

The Other Yugi tears his arm from their grap, setting his jaw and clutching the Puzzle as he marches forward, through the ghosts that stand before him.

"You're no king. You're nothing but a wicked, vengeful, coward," a spectral Weevil sneers.

But the Pharaoh walks through him too.

Now that he can see the figure waiting for him clearly, nothing can stop him.

Let those ghosts tell him what he already knows. Maybe they're right. Maybe he is prideful and selfish. Maybe there is darkness in his heart. Maybe that's why he's still reaching out for the Partner he might not deserve. If he's so selfish, why shouldn't he?

As he steps foot inside the first of those circles carved in the sand, the ghosts disappear. But the man waiting in the center of the ruins does not.

"Partner..." the Paraoh gasps, standing before him now. "Is it really you...?"

"why did you come here, other me?" Yugi's doesn't sound excited to see his other half. There's only disappointment in his violet red eyes.

"I wanted to see you, I-- I needed. To see you--" He reaches out, tries to take his Partner in his arms, just to pass through another ghost.

"see what? this hollow form?" Yugi asks with a voice tinged in sorrow.

Other Yugi chokes down a dry sob once again. "Partner, please. I don't know what's right or wrong or even real anymore. When you were with me, I knew kindness and compassion. The world was beight and beautiful, but without you, it-- I feel so empty."

Yugi doesn't speak.

"Please, I need you! I don't know what to do, I. If I keep fighting, I'll only hurt more people. I can't Duel without taking a life, but I can't sit back and let Doma destroy the world, either!!"

He wants to cry, seeing the way Yugi looks away from him, still silent.

"I'm scared, Partner," he chokes. "I'm scared of hurting, I'm scared of losing, I'm scared of knowing who I really am!! I'm scared to unlock my memories, I'm scared to--"

"is this why you wanted to see me so bad?" Yugi cuts him off sharply.

"Partner--"

"just to bitch and whine? you never even asked if i'm okay."

The realization hits Other Yugi with a start. His stomach drops.

"I-I'm sorry. I--"

"you really are selfish. you say you need me, but what about what i need? i needed you, too. i trusted you. with my body, heart, and soul. and you played that card anyway! you were only thinking about yourself, just like now."

The Other Yugi doesn't respond now. He just stares helplessly as his better half turns away from him.

"i knew this day would come eventually. i used to dream of dueling you, but i always thought it would be as friends," Yugi says sadly. He walks away from his Other Self, to the edge of the center circle. As he finally turns back to face the Other, a DuelDisk appears on his left arm.

"Partner, you don't-- You don't have to do this, We don't--"

"yes. i do. if darkness has really taken over your heart, then i don't really have a choice. i have to defeat you, and take it as a farewell between you and me. we can both die, separate forever."

"I don't want to fight you, please. We don't have to do this!" Though he pleads, the Other finds himself reluctantly readying his own DuelDisk.

"duel, start."

#ooc #plot #arc: what the doma?! #part 2 of 3 #c: #once again fuck proofreading let's go

[arthropod-concoctions]

Pixl jumped a foot into the air, then looked around to see if anyone saw. It's a good thing the Sheriff wasn't around; not only did he not ask permission for this excavation, but that jump must have looked very embarrassing. He composed himself. It was probably just a pebble falling down somewhere, it'd be absurd to think that the statue just-

The statue. Which was now very clearly looking at him. It was absurd to think that statue just said his name...

“Uhhh... Hi?” Pixl responded. It'd be rude to just ignore it. The statue remained silent, but just as Pixl was starting to feel stupid again, it spoke up again:

“Can you... Get this sand off me?”

“Oh! Of course! One moment!” He swapped to his pickaxe again, and swiftly but carefully cleared the sandstone from around... Joel? Their voice had sounded like Joel's, though incredibly hoarse.

“...Thanks.” the Joel statue coughed-- spraying sand out of his nose in the process-- and sat up.

“So, uh... How do you know my name anyways?” Pixl asked, shifting uncomfortably. Meeting a haunted statue was very much not what he had planned today.

The statue stared at Pixl as if he'd just told him his wife was dead. “Because... we've met before? A lot? You can't have forgotten me as well... no, wait, you just said my name earlier!” the sadness on his face suddenly turned into anger. “JOEL! I heard you say it! I know you recognise me! This isn't funny, Pix!” Statue-Joel was shouting now, and trying to clamber out of the hole Pixl dug him out from.

He backed off, hands raised. “I... I know a version of you, Joel. I assumed, since you were a statue buried underground, that you wouldn't have the same memories as him, but... I guess that was wrong. Sorry if that scared you.”

“Oh.” Statue-Joel looked down. “I guess that makes sense. I thought all the others had died, though...”

And that statement had Pix worried again. How many other Joels were there? But before he could ask for elaboration, he was distracted by the sound of fireworks overhead.

“Uh oh.” Looked like this interrogation would have to stop for now- Joel seemed like he would need to compose himself first anyways. For now, there were more urgent things to worry about- like explaining what he was doing to the person who just touched down.

“What's going on over here?” the Sheriff demanded.

(ch 1 | ch 3)

#arthropod writes #empires fic #smallishbeans #pixlriffs #empires s1 joel #empires s2 pixlriffs #empires smp #part 2 of 3 #mirror mesa