#so lets all hide here together - fill ourselves with love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?��

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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lunargrapejuice · 1 year

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come home already

alhaitham x reader x kaveh

just two people in love and yearning for kaveh <3 softy 'haitham <333

“we should definitely head to the asipattravana swap and get mourning flowers. i know they’d make him smile if he sees them around the house,” you can’t help but smile yourself at the thought of kaveh finally coming home. your chest fills with warm butterflies at the thought of watching his beautiful features light up after seeing everything you and alhaitham had prepared for him in his absence, knowing how much you missed him and how long you waited for this moment. you continue pacing the space of the living room and going over your plans out loud as the scribe prepares the last of your bags for your trip to the desert. “getting the quelled creepers shouldn’t be too bad between the two of us either, he’ll need them to keep his strength up but maybe we should head more through the forest to get those fungal spores, the fungi in the desert are just plain mean.”

you wait for a moment, giving alhaitham the chance to tell you his own thoughts, likely note how all fungi are of the same attitude, but he remains silent by the bookshelves, his back facing you though you can tell he’s mulling over which books to bring with, even looking at your own books that were far less of his own preferred genre but still something you could always do together while you rested between your travels and gathering often items.

“‘haitham are you even listening to me?” you grumble, feeling your heartbeat pick up speed, your palms grow sweaty and your feet becoming even more restless. they carry you to him, as if he would keep you from spiraling into even more worries you had yet to speak out loud, quickly closing the distance between you.

your close presence draws his attention from the spines of the books, though he had been listening to you even through his search. you were so obvious in your worry, it was cute how you tried to hide it in ways that alhaitham knew too well but he also knows he shouldn’t let you stew in those feelings for too long, especially when there was nothing to worry about. so he gives you a smile, an unusual sight to most for the ever elusive scribe, but it’s meant to help calm your nerves, steady out your racing heart and even more hurried thoughts. he knew you were anxious for the final days, the single digit days, until your beloved architect came home. kaveh had left you both in a state of longing with his prolonged absence but that was all coming to an end soon enough. there was nothing to worry about, nothing to fret over and alhaitham would be here to keep you sane until the missing piece of your two hearts finally came back to where he belonged.

“i am,” he answers, large hands coming to rest atop your shoulders. his thumbs soothingly rub against your skin as he takes closer and closer steps towards you until your senses are filled with him; the scent of rose water and old parchment, his natural warmth and the heat of his breaths, the love between you emanating in his attempt to help calm you down. “everything will be okay, kaveh will be more than happy just to be home with us,” he assures you with a soft tone that was still so sure of its answer and even softer blue eyes.

“but..” you go to protest, to go over details of your trip that were silly worries that alhaitham had already calculated for and that he would take care of if it did arise, but you’re cut off before you can get another word out by the muscular arms of your feeble scholar wrapping around you and pulling you into his plush chest.

he doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything but hold you and let you listen to his steady heart beat, feel his deep breaths.

“i.. i just want him to know we love him.. so much..” you mumble into alhaithams chest, your hands finally finding their way around his waist, holding onto him tightly.

“he knows,” he says it so matter of fact, like it was the easiest truth he had ever spoken. “and we’ll be able to tell him ourselves soon enough.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#KAVEH COME HOMEEEEE #this is so very self indulgent #kaveh #alhaitham #kaveh x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x reader x kaveh #al haitham x reader #al haitham

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stevetonyweekly · 4 months

Text

SteveTony Weekly - Jan 21st - Week 3

Here’s everything I read this week! I hope you find something you enjoy!

~*~

Hello. I've Been Waiting by j_gabrielle

Non-powered AU where Steve and Tony are in their late 20s and were high school sweethearts, married a year after their graduation - as Steve had wanted to save and then use his own money to buy Tony a ring. Though it hurt him to let Steve go to join the army, Tony knew it would have hurt both of them even more if Steve had stayed at home, miserable. They skype when they can, send emails (and the occasional letter because Steve is old fashioned that way - although Tony will never admit the amount of glee that fills him at seeing the physical envelope in his mailbox), and keep in touch as much as possible.

But there are still the long periods of time when there is no contact, and Tony can't help but worry and fret terribly about his husband overseas. One such period of time, Steve and Tony's friends (Bucky, Rhodey, the rest of the avengers, ya know), are surprised to get a group email from Steve - but happy at seeing that the reason: Steve is coming home early from his tour and wants to surprise Tony.

arei’s thoughts: I’m a sucker for Steve surprises Tony with a military homecoming. Short and sweet and lovely.

A ghost for Christmas by gottalovev

When she died, Peggy left Steve an old house in Connecticut. When he decides to spend Christmas there, Steve finds out that it's already inhabited... by a very handsome and kind of annoying ghost.

arei’s thoughts: this was so cute and the way that Rhodey came into it was really great. Loved it.

Something On My Mind by Thahire

During a team game of Never Have I Ever, Tony finds out that Steve has done—some things with men.

Things spiral from there.

arei’s thoughts: tony finding out about steve’s sexual past in a game with the team is a pretty niche trope and one i absolutely adore. Loved this.

Arrangements by Neverever

Tony has a no-strings attached, no-personal information, all-sex relationship with Steve. But things can change, can't they?

arei’s thoughts: FWB that doesn’t stay FWB is always a lot of fun.

Magical Moments by Becci_chan

It hadn’t been Steve’s best idea when he’d asked Tony to go with him to the Christmas market. Steve had only needed someone to keep him company, because sometimes crowded places still made him nervous. And because he liked Tony. A lot.

arei’s thoughts: it’s pure Christmas fluff. Plus, you know, Steve not knowing he’s head over heels for Tony is always fun.

Teeny Tiny OctoTony by MountainRose

Tony finds something in a HYDRA base, and it's about four inches tall and has a goatee.

And tentacles.

arei’s thoughts: i’m a big fan of tony as a octopus. They’re so smart?? And this one’s telepathic-ish bond with his octo counterpart was adorable!

All Roads Lead To by Anonymous

After Obadiah's betrayal, Tony hides in the depths of the Midwest to become a mechanic.

The Avengers come into his life anyway.

arei’s thoughts: I love the idea that some things are inevitable, and how this team came together was lovely.

Beyond Imagination by nakurumok

Tony swears he is fine. Really.

Sure, he was injured in the battle (only slightly), his suit was shut down after he was hit by some magical beam, crashed into the ground and lost conscious for nearly a day. But he is fine. Totally. Unquestionably.

Except, if he would admit it, he feels like he had gone through a few rounds of boxing with Hulk, while without the suit. He feels dizzy, and the ground seems floating under his every step and his head hurts like hell. But despite all of these, he is fine.

… and has he mentioned he sees Captain America, who should only exist in the comics, standing in his kitchen?

arei’s thoughts: The way things came out slowly and then all at once was lovely. It was clear that something was wrong, but how it played out was just--so nice.

we pick ourselves undone by laramara

It might appear that award-winning surgeon Tony Stark, the head of neurosurgery at Shield Hospital, well and truly has his life together. Now if he could only figure out how to tell people that his father, world class neurosurgeon Howard Stark, is locked away in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, devise a way to get Chief Fury off his back for good, and work out what the hell he’s going to do about the weird on-again-off-again thing he has going with the head of cardio, he’d finally have everything sorted.

arei’s thoughts: I loved the setting of this and the softness between Tony and Steve in contrast to everything around them. So well done.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #captain america #iron man #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

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c-m-stuff · 1 year

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Making Out

-Description: You and Spencer are having a secret relationship. When you made out, something revealed.

-Warnings: Fluffiness, horny

-Word count: 642

-Note: I love this one! It's cute and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Request Guidelines

Masterlist

_________________________

Y/N POV:

I don't know if it was the fact that I was almost on my period or that Spencer became 10x more attractive tonight. But, I wanted him. I wanted to touch his soft skin, kiss his tender lips, have my hands in his messy hair. I wanted Spencer.

The thing was, the whole team was at David's, celebrating after a good ending case. Another thing, we haven't told them yet that we are together. We wanted the first few months to be private, experiencing one another, having more reassurance of a good, healthy relationship.

Everyone was somewhere else. Some talking by the kitchen island, others in the couch. I sat with one drink in my hand, watching Spencer sit right opposite from me. He just looked so angelic. So beautiful. So damn hot. At this moment, there was nothing I would rather do than just kiss him. So, I decided to send him a text message:

"I want to kiss you so badly right now."

I saw him getting the message, opening his phone. His cheeks became a rosy color, and a smile grew on his face. Only seconds later, I received a message back.

"I would love to kiss you."

I grin was plastered on my face, before coming up with an idea.

"Meet me in the bathroom."

And with that, I stood up, making my way towards the bathroom. I locked the door, waiting for Spencer to arrive.

It took him only a few moments, before he gently knocked on the door. I opened it, as he flung to me, entering the room. His lips were instantly on mine, while I placed myself on the countertop of the sink, opening my legs to give him better access. My arms were loosely around his neck, playing with his soft hair, making it even more a mess than it already was. He placed his hands on my tights, slightly squeezing them.

Making no sounds was priority, although I couldn't resist the small moan that escaped my mouth. I fought the urge to feel more of him, letting my hands stay in his hair, our lips still connected.

'We need to stop. Gotta go back.' he managed to speak out between kisses. I knew he was right. I stole a few more kisses, and just when I was about to stop, a chuckling voice filled the room:

'Get a room!' we both froze, yet immediately separated from each other.

We prepared ourselves mentally for the embarrassment that was about to come. Was already here. We slowly turned around, seeing all our friends stare at us, amused. I jumped off the counter, fidgeting nervously with my hands.

'I- we- um-.' Spencer began, but gave up, not able to get an explanation.

'Damn! Pretty boy and pretty girl!' Derek exclaimed out.

'This night it getting better and better.' JJ held out her hand to Derek and Emily, who both paid the blonde a note of 50.

'You guys bet on us?' I asked, flabbergasted.

'Are you surprised then?' David laughed, as I honestly shook my head.

_________________________

We ended the night with lots of questions, cheering, and laughter. When Spencer drove to my apartment, I received a message of our technical queen. Opening it, I was in shock, but I couldn't hide the grin that was painted on my face. The genius of course noticed it.

'What is it?'

I just showed him the image. It was us, heavily kissing in David's bathroom. He briefly looked at it before averting his eyes on the road again, but a laugh was already revealed.

'Can you send it to me?'

#criminal minds #cm #fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #fluff imagine

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vilentia · 6 months

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Healing Melodies - Part 2

Eddie Munson x reader

part 1 | part 2

****

Dustin had always been known for his larger-than-life reactions to, well, pretty much everything. So, when he stumbled upon the truth about you and Eddie, his response was nothing short of a spectacle.

It happened on a lazy Saturday afternoon. The sun was high, casting a warm glow over Hawkins, and the air was filled with the distant sound of lawnmowers and children's laughter. You and Eddie were in his trailer, a record spinning softly in the background as you both poured over an intricate map for your next D&D campaign.

The door burst open, and in charged Dustin, wielding a walkie-talkie like a sword and a look of determination plastered across his face. He stopped short, the words dying on his lips as he took in the scene before him—Eddie's arm casually draped over your shoulder, both of you so engrossed in your shared world that you hadn't heard him enter.

"Dude! What the—?" Dustin's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Is this a new campaign strategy session, or am I interrupting the 'All My Children' hour?"

Eddie chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Calm down, Dusty. We were just—"

"Just what? Planning the ultimate betrayal of dungeon master trust?" Dustin interrupted, faux outrage coloring his tone. But the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his enjoyment of the melodrama.

You laughed, shaking your head at Dustin's antics. "We're not betraying anyone, Dustin. Eddie's just been helping me understand the finer points of necromancy. Right, Eddie?"

Eddie nodded, playing along. "Yeah, just some good old necromancy. Nothing to see here."

Dustin squinted suspiciously, taking a step forward. "Necromancy, huh? That's what we're calling it these days?" His gaze flicked between the two of you, a smirk beginning to form. "Wait a second... Are you guys... Are you guys a thing now?"

The air was suddenly thick with anticipation, the question hanging between you all. Eddie's hand squeezed your shoulder, a silent signal of unity.

"Come on, spill it!" Dustin urged, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Eddie sighed dramatically, feigning resignation. "Alright, alright. Yes, Dustin. We're a thing."

Dustin's reaction was instant and explosive—a mix of shock, joy, and the kind of theatrical disbelief that only he could muster. "I knew it! I mean, I didn't know-know it, but I knew something was up!" He threw his hands in the air, circling the room. "This is huge! This is like, Return of the Jedi epic! My cousin and Eddie Munson? This is going to change the party dynamics forever!"

As Dustin continued to pace around the room, his initial shock transforming into an almost comical level of excitement, you and Eddie exchanged amused glances. Dustin, true to form, was already spinning scenarios in his head, his imagination running wild.

"This is like, the best character development ever!" Dustin exclaimed, his hands animatedly sketching out scenes in the air. "You guys are like, the unexpected alliance in a fantasy novel. The bard and the warrior princess, joining forces against the darkness!"

Eddie raised an eyebrow, a playful grin on his face. "Warrior princess, huh? I like the sound of that for [Your Name]. Fits perfectly."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "Only if you're the bard who serenades me with metal ballads and slays monsters with his guitar axe."

Dustin clapped his hands together, his excitement reaching new heights. "Yes! That's exactly it! We'll have to update the Hellfire Club's campaign. This is going to be legendary!"

He began to pace again, his mind clearly racing with ideas. "Imagine the quests! The battles! The drama! This will be the best campaign ever. We’ll need a new storyline, new villains, maybe even a love triangle to spice things up."

Eddie laughed, shaking his head. "Easy there, Spielberg. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're just figuring this out as we go."

But Dustin was undeterred, his enthusiasm undimmed. "You guys have no idea how epic this is going to be. I'm going to need to brainstorm some ideas, maybe get some input from the others. This is going to be a total game-changer for the Hellfire Club!"

As Dustin continued to chatter excitedly, outlining elaborate plot twists and character arcs, you leaned against Eddie, feeling his arm wrap around you. There was a comfort in this moment—the joy of a new relationship, the amusement of Dustin's over-the-top reaction, and the sense of belonging in this strange, wonderful world of Hawkins.

Eddie leaned down, whispering in your ear, "You ready for all this?"

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and nodded. "As long as it's with you, I'm ready for anything."

And in that small trailer, filled with the laughter of friends and the dreams of adventures yet to come, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Eddie, together, could face it all.

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theogony · 8 months

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The Jesper Fahey Foolproof guide to getting your friends to fall in love™

written for the grishaverse big bang 2023 (@grishaversebigbang)! Pleasure to work on a lighthearted fic for a change of pace ^^ thank you sm to yaalni (@bloodyrakshasi ) for betaing the fic, and please go check the absolutely stunning works of accompanying artists :)

@intrgalartic (link to art here) @bubble--berry (link to art here) @jmie-draws (link to art here) @mitraavrs (link to art here)

"Wait, no, that’s it. That’s perfect,” Jesper says, and everyone turns to look at him. “What if we use like - what’s the term - reverse psychology?” Jesper pauses, for additional appropriate gravitas (as though everyone in the table isn’t already looking at him with varying degrees of shock, horror, or scheming.)

“What if we still say it straight - but to the opposite person - tell Inej that Kaz likes him and Kaz that Inej likes him,” he finishes, triumphant.

The table quiets down, before interrupting into a series of loud whispers borderlining on shouts, before quieting down again as everyone mulls over the idea.

All in all, Jesper thinks, it’s a pretty promising reaction.

When even the imminent departure of Inej cannot prompt either her or Kaz to confront their feelings and cross the invisible line the two of them have been toeing for entirely too long, Jesper and the rest of their friends decide to take matters into their own hands with the help of PowerPoint transitions, nosy partners, and perhaps the entirety of Ketterdam University.

Alternatively, the faked into dating AU, wherein Jesper learns that perhaps he's not as good a matchmaker as he thought he was.

read part of it under the cut! / ao3 link

The hallways part like a sea before them, whispers following them as the 6 (well 7 really, but no one's terrified of Wylan even with the rest of them surrounding him) skulking figures stalk down the hallway, leaving behind the principal's ajar door in their wake.

All in all, it's a pretty normal day for Kaz Brekker and the crows, really.

"You'd think we'd robbed the school ourselves at the rate the students are avoiding us."

Jesper laughs merrily, throwing a friendly arm over Inej's shoulder.

"Relax, Nej. Besides, it's not like you're going to be here in this shithole much longer anyway!"

Inej lets out a tinkling laugh, lips momentarily turning up at brief levity - before she purses them again, turning around to address the rest of them.

"Alright, enough moping around about inevitable change - don't think I've noticed some people in particular practically avoiding me since the trip was announced."

Though the rest of their group tries their level best (which is to say, not at all) to hide their snickers - it's pretty obvious who the message is directed at. After all, there's only one person whom Inej would never bother to hesitate to call out so publicly - only one person whom Inej would never forget to look out for.

To his own credit, Kaz looks away non committedly, before hefting his bag slightly higher.

"If you forget to collect your dance shoes from the studio, I don't even think I'd be able to stop Baghra from keeping you here."

Imej hums before walking next to him.

"Fair enough. But you know that I'd stay if you asked me to."

A tension fills between the two of them, filled with unspoken possibilities.

"I think I'd eventually learn how to handle my accounts on my own, thanks."

The both of them shrug, turning away from each other, though the tense look on both of their faces tells a very different story.

The fact of the matter is this - no matter how much Inej wishes, Kaz wouldn't dare take away everything Inej has worked for - even if that meant depriving them of something that both of them wanted so badly.

Eventually, Inej shakes herself and joins Kaz, currently facing forward, an impenetrable stone wall of emotion. Together, they tentatively begin talking again about a topic that's too quiet for the rest of them to hear and enclose themselves in a bubble of their own - disappearing into the winding hallways.

read the rest here!

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mineonmain · 1 year

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Second Couple Syndrome strikes again...

There is something really fascinating about a lot of second couples in shows where I find myself more drawn to them than to the main couple (VegasPete v/s KinnPorsche, DongheeXHotae v/s TaejoonXWonyoung, WinTeam v/s DeanPharm [i love you pharm...can i pay you to stop crying], SornThat v/s TanBun [i'm so sorry i'm actually lying here i'm obsessed with TanBun. But Sorn and That are fucking adorable and there's a reason why I mentioned them here hold awn], GunYok v/s SeanWhite, etc etc), and there's probably a few reasons. Maybe the main couple is too dreary/boring, maybe their story is uninteresting, maybe we're too used to the old couple and enjoy the freshness of a new couple with a new story and conflict. But personally, while all of these are true, I think the biggest factor is how much we don't know. We're given a taste of what they are, and are left to fill in the blanks for ourselves. It's the most incredible fandom cud that us fan cows are given to chew. (I'd argue it's this very thing that led to Between Us getting made, us liking what we saw of WinTeam in UWMA and wanting to know more).

Step by Step's side couple, Jaab and Jane, is very much shaping up to be the same. Not that they'll get their own show, but that we get to see just enough to make us want more, and yet not enough so we are compelled into thinking (and theorizing) about them all the time.

EP 5 SPOILERS AHEAD...

So let's talk about the two most important scenes for Jaab and Jane so far:

First is from Ep 3, when Jane is waiting with Jaab in the flat to be picked up by his boyfriend.

Yes, Jaab is the one to start, he's the one who raises his hand first to touch Jane's hair and cup his cheek. It makes sense for him to do that (emotionally as a character, not necessarily morally/ethically but that's not the point here), because he's in love with Jane and isn't really hiding it. Yet, he's still hesitant, trying to respect the boundary that Jane keeps reinforcing by reminding him of his boyfriend's presence. On the left, his hand his cupping Jane's cheek, but barely. His touch is feather-light, his hands are hovering millimeters above Jane's cheek.

In fact, it's Jane who crosses the line completely! Jane is the one to grab Jaab's hand, press it firmly against his cheek, hold it there securely, close his eyes to relish in the feeling. Jaab is obviously going to go along with it, because being with Jane is all he wants, so it was on Jane to stop it before it went any further, when instead he was the one to take it further.

Second is from Ep 5, after the team dinner back in Jane and Jaab's shared hotel room. Based on what I can tell, (because it feels a bit piecemeal sometimes, like there's scenes which happened off-camera, but maybe i'm just not paying good enough attention) Jaab is trying to apologize for something. Maybe fighting on camera? Or The Moment they shared back in EP 3?

Once again, Jaab is the one who initiated the contact, the pinky-swear, but that's all he did. He tentatively reaches out to Jane, every time, and waits to see whether he is accepted to rejected in that moment. Once he holding onto Jane's finger, the tension in the room becomes palpable, and Jaab waits. He knows that technically Jane is not on the market, so worst case scenario even if he is rejected he'll understand why, and so he's patient. He just stays there, and waits.

And once again, it is Jane who bridges the gap between them, he is the one who moves forward slowly towards a statuesque Jaab and kisses him. Jaab makes sure that the power is in Jane's hand, and surprisingly Jane uses that power. Again!

Even further into the scene, if Jaab were to keep going like this, he would just be content with whatever Jane was willing to give him , even if it was just a pinky-hold, so he doesn't ask for more (left). And once again, Jane is the one to first use his other hand to grab their interlocked hands together (right), and use that to yoink them closer together.

It's only been a few episodes, but time and time again it's the same ritual. Jaab expresses his love and affection towards Jane in a direct or indirect way, through his looks and his words and his actions, and Jane might usually remind him about his boyfriend so as to establish a boundary, and then Jane crosses the boundary that he himself drew to go towards Jaab. Jane is cheating on his boyfriend, almost with awareness.

And that's why this couple is so compelling to me. Other than this 'cheating', there's nothing about Jane that paints him as a bad person. Then why is he doing this? What is he thinking about when he does this, what happens when he's alone with his boyfriend? What is his boyfriend doing? What is happening is magnetic, and what isn't happening keeps us constantly guessing. Jane's actions paint him in a really grey light, and we can't help but question what his intentions are. For example, Jane has never once verbally acknowledged or reciprocated anything Jaab has said to him, but instead he has physically gone above and beyond, and that's still cheating. There's absolutely no clarity, for the viewers or the characters.

I'm obsessed with them.

#step by step #step by step the series #jaabjane #jaab x jane #me: can't write a research proposal #also me: on the regular makes essay-length posts analysing random queer asian drama moments #i cannot explain this behavior. you cannot make me #thai bl #bl series #bl drama #thai drama

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elder-dragon · 1 year

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Cat of the Grove

(Also on AO3)

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

There is a Cat in the Grove

and it is one of many,

but this is the one that dares

climb all of mother's boughs.

As saplings, we watched it:

1. trot after our Luminary

2. mewl until fed

3. curl up for a nap

...at the mother avatar's feet.

(She does not shoo it.)

There is a Cat in the Grove

that has been there since we awakened.

The firstborn care for it

as they care for us

but they tell no stories

of how it came to the Grove.

So we take upon ourselves

the task of telling travelers—

the humans and the Norn

the Charr and, yes, the Asura too:

This is the firstborn

of all cats in the Grove.

It was here before us,

and it shall be here forever,

for firstborn cannot die

if they do not leave the Grove.

We are met with peculiar stares

and then we flee from our Luminary

who comes to scold us for telling lies.

There is a Cat in the Grove

that does not have a name.

As Wardens, we watch it

play amidst our practice targets

and hone its claws on them

just as we hone arrows and blades,

so we call it warrior.

As Menders, we watch it

seek our ill and our injured

and it lays at their sides

until they are cheered by it,

so we call it healer.

As Gardeners, we watch it

hunt vermin and pests

and keep our fields free

with its frequent patrols,

so we call it defender.

It does not seem to mind

the names we give it

as long as it can play and love and hunt.

There is a Cat in the Grove

who fusses and frets like the Menders

and of late it stays close

to our mother the most.

Few times it's left her boughs

where it nestles on the scars

left behind in the attack.

There is a Cat in the Grove

and one day it yowls and it shrieks

louder than before

until we are all awake,

from the upper chambers to Astorea

we hear it

and then we feel our mother weeping

and then we feel ourselves

the great loss of our brother

the first of firstborn

gone forevermore.

We will hear later

stories from the west,

and face together uncertainty

from the travelers that once filled

our Grove with laughter and cheer.

The humans and the Norn

and the Charr and the Asura—

for now they will give us

distrustful stares.

So we turn to our Luminary,

to the firstborns still here,

as if we were saplings again,

newly awakened.

We mourn together

for brothers and sisters and siblings lost

and for the first of firstborn

and they tell us stories

of his long travels and great deeds

and they tell us stories

of the Cat in the Grove.

Aife tells us he brought it

from far, far away

when it was smaller,

young like our people then,

and he returned with it on his shoulder

showing his brothers and sisters

his newfound companion.

Niamh tells us he played with it

but was never the only one

for Wynne and others too

would craft for it sticks

and let it chase leaves

all around the first gardens

(but not Faolain,

who thought to torment it

foolishly and futilely).

Kahedins tells us he showed it

to mother many times over,

and each time she would say

"I do not dictate the creatures

that emerge from the Dream."

and he would seem aggrieved

until it sought him

to comfort him.

Malomedies tells us he taught it

to seek out Caithe when hungry,

both from frivolity he liked to hide

and from wishing she would

open her heart to it

and then Caithe as thanks

taught it to sneak upon him

when he was engrossed in a book.

There is a Cat in the Grove

watching from the boughs

as the first saplings in years

finally awaken from their pods.

Our new young wake

with both Dream and Nightmare

flitting between their eyes—

but they are here.

They are here

and that is enough.

And the Cat seems pleased

to have new quarry to chase

and mewl at until fed.

There is a Cat in the Grove

who the travelers like to point at.

The humans and the Norn

and the Charr and the Asura

all come and tell us

that it is growing quite old,

and yet it still chases

saplings and pests alike,

and it still jumps into our beds

to share in our warmth,

and it still torments our Luminary

with its mewls and big eyes,

and it still naps where it pleases

in mother's boughs,

in mother's chamber,

but lately it's taken

to napping at the feet of the likeness

of the first of firstborn

who treated it as a friend

and then shared with it our home

and with his kindness made it

the Cat of the Grove.

-End-

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

just a little poem I've been working on for the past few days. It was actually a shitpost between myself and @icebrooding about Trahearne and cats but I ended up doing a whole thing with it. I guess it's from a collective secondborn/somewhere in that timeframe POV. Thanks for reading.

#trahearne #gw2 poem #my writing #gw2 fanfic #formatting is so wonky on tumblr aaaa

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year

Note

Ohh to be a fly on the wall to hear the talks Pierre's wife had with Charles wife during the rough patch on their wedding. I love the idea of their friendship!

Tw: relationship/marriage issues

Sitting at the dinner table, Charles and Pierre talked about the new season while you and Charles' wife just listened to them, and while you thought you had managed to hide how you were feeling, apparently all of your behaviours and non verbal communication snitched you, "now, tell me what is wrong with you, I can tell your not okay", Charles' wife said as soon as the drivers left the table to go and take a photo with the restaurant staff, "everything's fine, I'm just tired, the meeting on and on today", you replied, the half truth revealing itself, "and was Pierre in your busy meeting too? Because you're both not okay", she offered again, "don't get me wrong, but if you need anything, I'm here for you guys, we're here for you".

Sighing, you looked around to see that the restaurant was mostly empty and that all of the other clients were in tables far away from you, "Me and Pierre have been... weird, that's the word. I think we've lost the spark or whatever it is", you said, "there are days where we don't speak to eachtother even, and sometimes I wonder is he is as bothered about this as I am", you gulped, feeling her hand cover yours in a comforting manner over the table, "have you talked to him about it?", she said, "because he looks like he is feeling it too", she encouraged, "I don't know, he hasn't said anything either. What if he has already made up his mind and this is it?", you whispered, afraid that saying it out loud would make it true, "just talk to him, yeah? I'm sure he's not thinking like you think he is, he's probably feeling the same as you are, I can tell. And if you need anything, we're here, okay? I've known the guy since he was little, I have zero issues in knocking some sense into him", she attempted to make you giggled, succeeding as you quickly shook off the fear with your small smile, "it's not the first time I've done it, I have no issues in doing it again!".

While your husbands were doing their media duties for their teams, you and Charles' wife sat in the hospitality, away from where all of the attention was as you caught up with eachother, "I'm very happy to see you here, you know", she forwarded, "me too, there was a time I didn't think I would", you said, twisting your glass of water on the table before looking at her.

"You know I won't force you to tell me anything, but if you feel like talking will help, I'm here for you", she offered like you had expected her to, "it was hard, and it still is sometimes. I don't think it won't ever be hard, because there isn't a relationship that doesn't have ups and downs", you said, earning a nod of agreement from her, "it took us some time to realise that something was not right and we were about to reach the breaking point", you gulped, "and it takes so much work", you sighed. Straightening her posture, Charles' wife spoke, "but do you feel like you're both putting in the work? I'm sure neither of you is willing to let your marriage go, but there can't be one favouring over the other", she reasoned, "yes, we both have been working on it", you smiled as you recalled the moments you've had recently filled with feelings you feared you'd never feel again with Pierre, "Pierre has put in so much effort to make sure we spend quality time together, going on walks and just spending time with eachother, I have also learnt my lesson and told the department that I'm working the hours on my contract and that meetings have to go like they are planned, and it's been working for us. No one is sacrificing anything, we are taking care of eachother, and of ourselves individually too", you smiled.

"Do you feel you still have a long way to go?", she wondered, "a bit, yes. But we are headed there, slowly, but surely", you smiled, seeing the blue eyes you loved so much looking at you as your husband walked up the stairs, "Hello ladies, how are you enjoying the day?", he said before kissing the top of your head.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#pierre gasly blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb

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klarex · 2 years

Text

So most of my Obi-wan fanfics are based on the gifs, but in this there is no Plo Koon. I'm totally in love in this chapter😍 Also shy Kenobi is here!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none, just cutiness

Summary: You need to stay in your headquarters, but thankfully not alone.

Paring: Obi-wan x Senator! reader

Waffles

Not my gif his smile😭❤

Pov. Y/n

- With all due respect Senator, but you must stay here.

Master Jedi Obi-wan Kenobi said looking my way. I was just sitting on a couch in my headquarters on Coruscant and Master Kenobi was standing in front of me. I groaned and throw myself down on my couch. He was standing there not really knowing what to do. He turned to leave.

- At least you could stay and keep me company..

I mumbled as I looked at him stopping. He simply nodded. He sat down on an armchair next to a couch I was laying on. He fidgeted with his fingers nervously, while we were sitting in silence, tension filling the air.

Moments later I stood up and went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I pecked my head to look at Obi-wan.

- You want something to drink?

- A tea would be nice, thanks..

He said and I quickly get to work. I took two mugs and put tea bags in them. When water was ready I filled mugs with it and slowly made my way to the living room. I could fell Obi-wan's eyes on me for all the time.

When he saw me walking his way he immediately got up and took his mug from my hand, brushing his against mine. He blushed slightly and made his way back to his chair. I sat back down and took a sip of my tea, but hissed.

- It's still hot..

I mumbled as Obi-wan chuckled. I rolled my eyes and put my mug on a table next to a couch. I settled myself on my stomach and rested chin on my hands. My legs were swinging in air while I was looking at a man in front of me.

- So Master Kenobi.. tell me about yourself.

I said curiously as he looked away. He blushed, but quickly tried to shake it off by looking away. When blush was nearly there, he looked back at me. He took a deep breath.

- Well... I'm really not that exciting..

- Aw.. come on.. there must be something interesting!

I said enthusiastically as I smiled widely at him. He smiled back.

- So.. as you know I'm in the Jedi Council and my fellow Padawan was Anakin Skywalker. My Master was Qui-Gon Jinn and-

- Yeah.. right. But I wanted to know something about you, like what's your favorite planet or what's your favorite dish.. you know..

I interrupted him, looking away, but he smiled more.

- I don't have answers to that, darling. I like most of the planets and about dishes I mostly like desserts.

He said as he laughed nervously. The nickname got me. My face became red, but he didn't seem to notice, because he still was talking. I nodded after he finished, not being able to say something. Then he noticed.

- Senator.. Are you okey? Your face is whole red.

After he said that I immediately looked away and tried to hide my face behind my hands.

- I'm fine, Obi-wan... And call me Y/n.

He nodded. Then an idea popped inside my head. I took my hands out of my face and I looked at Obi-wan again.

- Would you like to cook with me? Like a cake? Maybe for ourselves or other Masters?

He was shocked at my question, but smiled and nodded. I got up and grabbed his hands making him get up. I dragged him to the kitchen, laughing. He was blushing and smiling. His big fingers locking with mine small ones.

When I stopped in a kitchen I pulled my hands away from his. I searched for a recipe on my data pad that was laying there. I was leaning against a counter.

- Okey, we need flour, milk, eggs and a little bit more ingredients... Oh.. wait. How are we suppose to have an Aura Blossom?!

I mumbled and looked up at Obi-wan who chuckled.

- You know what? I'm done with this... Let's just make some waffles.

- As you wish Y/n.

We worked together perfectly. He mixed the dough while I put it in waffle maker. When he was finished with his work, I imperceptibly took a hand of flour.

- I finished my work. How's your doing?

He said and turned around to me. I immediately pulled out my hand and throw flour at his face. It didn't hit him that much, but enough for him to be dirty with it.

He was silently looking at me with no smile on his face. I started to worry.

I shouldn't be doing that! I'm such an idiot!

What if it's his favourite robes?!

Does Jedies even have those? Ugh!

Maker! Y/n get yourself together and apologise!

When I opened my mouth to say sorry, I felt a LOT of powder falling on my head. I gasped and looked at him with a frown.

He used the Force to lift a bag with flour above my head!

Obi-wan! You kriffing bastard!

I was covered in flour from head to toe and Obi-wan laughed hard. He was almost choking on air and I started laughing too.

It was until I didn't smell my waffles burning.

- MY WAFFLES!!

You shouted and ran to the waffle maker. Obi-wan just laughed more if that's even possible. I took my waffles out of a waffle maker, almost burning myself.

I sighed with relief and saw Obi-wan standing next to a sink, trying to wash the flour from his face. I laughed and came closer to him. He dried his face, leaving his hair's wet, tips fall on his forehead.

- Look at me.

I said and he did as I said with a slight pink on his cheeks. I gripped his chin with my hand. I brought the other hand closer to his cheek and took the rest of the flour off his face. I booped his nose and turned around to take care of my waffles.

- Y- You should change too, Y/n... You are covered in flour..

- Oh.. really?

I said sarcastically and giggled.

- Look after them as I go and change.

I said and walked to the refresher. I changed myself into more comfortable clothes, by that I mean shorts and a T-shirt. I washed my face and my hair quickly.

When I walked out I didn't see Obi-wan cooking, but sitting on a couch I was sitting earlier with a mug and a waffle in his hands. He looked at me with his big, blue eyes as I went his way.

- I- I decided to make some tea for us..

He said and I sat down, closely next to him.

- Thank you..

I said and grabbed a waffle from a plate. I took a bite and immediately melted away.

- Mmm... IT'S DELICIOUS!

I shouted and Obi-wan laughed.

- Happy to hear that..

When I finished my waffle I decided to do something that could change my life forever.

- You know Obi-wan.. you are cool.

- Oh.. Am I?

I put my head on his lap.

- Yeah..

I breathed and his eyes widened. I brought my hand to his cheek and brought his face closer.

- You don't know how long I have been dreaming about this..

He breathed and I closed the gap between us. Kissing him was even better then I thought it would be. His lips capturing mine in slow movements. His hands on my waist and mine on his cheeks.

When we were out of breaths, we pulled away. I cuddled up to him.

- Thank you that you stayed...

I mumbled into his chest.

- For you always..

He whispered softly into my ear.

masterlist

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detective-giggles · 2 years

Text

Back to Square One

My contribution to @tarlosweeklyprompts whump week for the prompt Adoption Falling Through. I’m also using this as a fill for @badthingshappenbingo Crying Themselves to Sleep. Word Count: 1376 Warnings: The prompt says it all; but in this fic TK and Carlos deal with a failed adoption attempt. This fic has been in the works for a while, but whump week finally gave me the motivation to finish it. T- thank you for the beta! I appreciate you taking the time to make this fic as angsty as possible! hahaha.

***

Carlos lets out a heavy sigh, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The car seat sits empty in the back, a reminder of everything that should have been and everything they had lost, again. Every time Carlos catches a glimpse of it in the mirror, he thinks he’s going to be sick. TK has been oddly silent on the drive home from the hospital which has been both a blessing and a curse.

He knows that TK is restless. He can see it in the anxious way he moves, tapping his foot against the floorboard and gnawing on the strings of his hoodie, hands twisting in his lap instead of one sitting comfortably in Carlos’ like normal

Carlos desperately wishes he knew what to say that could fix this. Something that could make him feel okay about this awful situation they are in, but with Carlos feeling the same, heavy sadness, how could he when he still felt so empty himself?

Carlos pulls the car into the driveway and kills the ignition. “Look, TK-”

He fights back tears as TK opens the door and climbs out of the car. TK slams the door a little harder than necessary and Carlos sighs and worries that TK’s going to make them wallow in their pain without the other to lean on - before he realizes TK is waiting for him.

He slides out of the car and makes his way to his husband. TK reaches for his hand, grabbing it tightly like it’s a lifeline, and together they make their way up the walkway. He squeezes Carlos’ hand as they walk, a silent I love you. I need you.

Carlos is prepared for TK to head straight to bed when they get inside. He is not prepared, however, to be greeted at his front door by his parents and Owen, presenting gifts and looking every part of the Proud Grandparents.

TK takes one look around the impromptu party, face falling even more, and freezes for just a second before making a beeline for the stairs. Carlos watches helplessly as TK takes the stairs two at a time and then disappears, slamming the door behind him. He winces as the sound echoes in the now silent space, itching to join TK and hide from the world.

He starts to follow and then stops, turning to face all three of their parents. “I’m sorry,” he says automatically.

“Carlitos… what happened?” Andrea asks and pulls him in close, wrapping him in a hug.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I- we just- I’m sorry, I need to go.”

“Of course. Go be with TK,” Andrea says. “We’ll clean up here and let ourselves out,” she offers as she presses a gentle kiss to her son’s cheek.

“Thank you.” Carlos hurries up the stairs without looking back.

“TK, baby?” Carlos pushes open the door and finds TK curled up under their blankets, holding a stuffed bumble bee that should have belonged to their daughter.

“I…can’t do this again.” TK’s words feel like a punch to the gut and Carlos tries to fight against the nausea as the reality of what TK said sinks in. He doesn’t blame TK for feeling this way, but he also wishes he didn’t. They still have a chance to have the family they want.

Carlos swallows hard, “TK, we don’t have to make any decisions right now. Everything is still so fresh and-”

TK shakes his head. “Carlos, I’m sorry. But I can’t.” He looks down, unable to meet Carlos’ gaze.

“TK, sweetheart, I…” Carlos pulls TK close and nods. He rubs TK’s back and presses a kiss to his crown. He can feel TK’s tears soak into his shirt. He wants to cry too, to mourn the family he’ll never have but TK needs him right now, so he stays silent.

“Yeah, okay, I understand,” Carlos says finally. He doesn’t understand, but he’s already watched TK’s heart shatter and he’ll do anything to make sure it doesn’t happen again. He wouldn’t put TK through this pain again if TK didn’t want to try. His husband’s mental health and happiness meant more to him right now than any could be family they would have.

Eventually TK’s sobs quiet to hiccups and soon he drifts off into, what Carlos assumes will be, a fitful sleep.

Carlos slips out of bed and makes his way toward the staircase. The door to the nursery is cracked and he pauses in the doorway, leaning heavily against the door frame.

The room is stuffed full of everything they would have needed for the new baby. Some stuff was new, some things were hand-me-downs. Carlos wasn’t even sure what was in all the boxes. He knew one thing, however, every item in that room was gifted with so much love.

He sighs, defeated. Numb. He wants to be angry; he wants to be able to blame someone. But instead, there’s the empty hollowness of his dreams slipping through his fingertips. His stomach flips and he feels nauseous again; his heart pounds as he thinks about all they need to do to turn the nursery back into a functional guest room.

Carlos turns and, against his better judgment, sends his fist flying into the door jamb. He regrets it almost immediately; pain explodes in his hand and radiates into his wrist and arm, but it doesn’t compare to the pain in his heart.

“Damn it,” he mutters. There’s a red smear from where the skin on his knuckles split upon impact and it’s already starting to swell.

Carlos slams the door behind him and hurries to the staircase, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the room.

He grabs an ice pack from the freezer and drops into a chair gingerly placing the ice pack over his throbbing knuckles. He stares at the wound, wishing that it could be the thing that helps him forget the sorrow that’s taken root in his heart. He would give anything to feel something other than the heartache that he knows will stick with him for weeks, if not months.

He nearly jumps out of the chair when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Let me see,” TK urges.

“It’s fine. I promise there’s no hole in the wall.”

“I’m more worried about your hand,” TK tells him, holding out his hand. “Come on.”

Carlos takes TK’s hand in his and lets TK lead him to the bathroom. He closes the toilet lid and sits. TK takes a peek at his hand and then rummages around in the cabinet for their first aid kit.

He’s silent as he digs through the overly-stuffed plastic box and starts setting supplies aside.

“I’m sorry, TK, you shouldn’t have to take care of me right now.”

“That’s what we do. Take care of each other,” TK says simply.

Carlos watches silently as TK cleans and bandages his wounds, then pokes at his hand a bit. Carlos winces when he hits a tender spot.

“Sorry, babe. You’re lucky, I don’t think anything’s broken. You’ll just be sore for a bit. But definitely keep some ice on it to keep the swelling down.”

“Okay,” Carlos says meekly. TK hands back the partially melted ice pack and Carlos holds it against his hand.

“You know, I-”

“TK, I know you’re hurting right now. And I’m sorry. I’d do anything to make this better. But please don’t give up on us.”

“Baby, I’m not giving up on us. Look, Carlos, we’ve only been married a couple of years. Let’s just enjoy this, enjoy us. And then, in a few years, maybe we can try again?”

Carlos nods, slowly, “So you’re not saying no?”

“I’m not saying no,” TK promises. “And if an opportunity arises in the meantime, we’ll revisit this, okay?”

Carlos lets out a tiny snort. “What, you think a kid is just going to drop into our lap?”

“You never know,” TK says. “Now, come on. You probably need some fresh ice. And I think I need some junk food.”

Carlos shakes his head and reaches for TK, pulling his husband down onto his lap. “All I need is you.”

#tarlosweeklyprompts #whump week #911lsfic #tarlos whump #bthb #adoption falling through #married tarlos #angst #hurt/comfort #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes

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blatantlackofdecorum · 2 years

Text

noel and mischa

I FINALLY WROTE OH MY GODS. it only took me the entire day. this is literally just a noel and mischa blurb, from noel’s perspective. Specifically most of it is inspired by these two’s scene after jane’s birthday. This is technically 1st Person, and I hate writing first person usually but, I just started writing and it happened. It’s mostly a poetic recounting of what happened (and some artistic liberty at the end hehe)

There was a certain hopelessness to it. This dull hum of life that we were bestowed in our final hours. That distant buzz that accompanied me, and him. In some ways, I wondered helplessly if any of this had been real. Had it meant anything in the end?

Five lives had slipped away, and with that not only of life had they been stripped.

Their fiery loves, their gap filled smile, their favorite movie, the cigarettes they smoked so endlessly.

The freckles on his face that hide behind his hair. How he lit up when anything really engaged him. The way his hand searched for mine in such an endless pursuit. And yet here I was again, grasping at the air enclosed in my fist. Trying to keep it together when you joined my quiet venture, sitting in the room we’d lose our lives in, in the next hour.

You offered me a drink, I drank with the same impending doom that circled in your stare. You veer off in your own thoughts, they spill with the same excitement from any other day, though theres a thin veil of sadness that coats them. I lift the bottle up to my lips once more, sparking a searing wound in my throat that only takes a second to nurse itself.

And then, you compliment the only tie on reality I have left. A tragedy, the end. But it doesn’t feel like the end.

Not here,

not with you.

Your hand gently crashes into my chest, and even the collision is enough to make me feel giddy.

I laugh breathlessly to myself as I watch your hand recoil to your lap. Lacking the same disgust i’d so feared of.

Every bit of me wants to trace your dimples, feel your hands cup mine. Watch your tone raise when you get defensive.

You are every bit of danger I crave Mischa Bachinski.

I lean my head onto your shoulder. Letting out a snicker. Every bit of my face feels warm, and suddenly my heads spinning.

“It’s a shame isn’t it?” his voice once a pestilent bark echoed with the same grief i’d avoided facing since we’d found ourselves here. My eyes stayed closed, in his embrace, I truly wondered if I could face this.

“I’m sorry” My voice trembled, and his hand found its way to mine.

“Lets just enjoy the rest of life, together. Alright?” Although his voice was all too comforting, it too shook with fear. I say it’s all too fair that I spend the rest of my life here with you by my side, a tragic story come to a screeching halt, and you still managed to give it a fitting end.

#ride the cyclone #rtc musical #rtc #mischa bachinski #mischa bachinski rtc #mischa rtc #noel gruber #noel rtc #noel gruber rtc #nischa #this reminds me a lot of paper bag by fiona apple

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kirbydached · 1 year

Text

while harry knew that he was going to get a demerit for skipping class, his anxiety had been acting up all week. his parents were scheduled to visit the school this weekend and he had been filled with nothing but dread. as much as he tried to play it off, his mask of composure was crumbling with each day that passed him by. a shaky breath fell from his lips as he nervously bounced his knee up and down, presently hiding out in his favourite spot on the sprawling campus. the place where he had his first kiss after the champion winning soccer match. he was eventually pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps, eyes widening once he saw an unexpected figure standing before him.

“marcel?” his brows pinched together as he stared up at his boyfriend.

the other was like an angel, appearing whenever he needed him the most. that had been the case since their relationship blossomed. harry was supposed to room alone but with a new foreign exchange student arriving from venezuela, his coach purposefully set them up to room together. before long, they became best friends. that friendship quickly transformed into something far deeper than that.

there was a look of concern etched across the other’s features as he took a step toward harry, “que pasa? link texted me and told me that you weren’t in class. you’re gonna get in trouble, amor.” he easily carded his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair in a loving manner.

harry stared up at the other for a few moments with a blank expression, cracking a few moments afterward. he easily allowed his arms to circle the other’s torso and pull him closer, his chin resting upon marcel’s chest. “i know… but i don’t care.” he wet his lips, shaking his head slightly. “with parents’ weekend coming up, i’ve been so fucking stressed. this is the only place i can get away from them and their close-minded bullshit. it feels like they’re like… going to ruin my safe haven just by being here for a couple of days.”

marcel let out a gentle sigh as he leaned down to press a kiss against harry’s forehead, “nothing could ruin this, baby. i’m going to make sure of that. it’s only a couple of days.”

harry couldn’t help but tighten his arms around the other as his gaze flickered away for a moment. “you can’t promise me something like that.” he wasn’t usually this pessimistic, but his parents’ always clouded his judgment.

“i mean — technically, yes. you’re right… nothing is guaranteed in life. but i’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that remains true.” a pause. “why don’t we take the afternoon off to just have a day to ourselves? i don’t care if i get detention for a week, i think we both need this.”

“that… sounds perfect. are you sure that i’m worth the trouble?”

“you’re worth everything, mi vida.”

[ timeskip ]

harry felt almost immediately better when they arrived at their dorm room and he was able to change out of his school uniform. he was in an absent-minded daze with the engraved locket that marcel had gifted him for their first anniversary in between his lips, something he did whenever he zoned out. marcel was comfortably seated in his lap in one of his hoodies that were far too big for the other, carefully painting his nails a new colour.

“you know that we’re going to have to move our beds apart, right? we won’t be able to sleep together while my parents are here.”

a look almost akin to pain flashed in marcel’s eyes as he looked up at the other through his lashes, “do we have to? how much time are they going to be spending in our room? you know that i don’t sleep well without you.” a small pout formed on his lips.

“i mean… they won’t be here for long, but we have to move them apart at least initially. i don’t want them asking questions.”

marcel blew on his nails after applying the last coat of quick dry, allowing himself to turn around and straddle the other. his legs wrapped around harry’s waist as they sat there. “it’s not fair. i want you all to myself…”

“i know, i know… that’s all i want too, baby.”

“i guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time after they leave. i’ll cling to you and never let go.” marcel chuckled softly as he allowed his lips to press to harry’s neck.

it was so easy for harry to lose himself in the other, even when his mind felt like it was at war with him.

[ timeskip ]

while marcel made it a habit to be punctual at all times, even to the point where he would arrive more than a half hour early to important events, he had accidentally allowed time to slip past him today. he barely had time to change into his kit before running toward the football pitch. he was breathless as he rounded the corner in the stadium, only to find himself skidding to a stop. a large man was standing there before him, a look of confusion flickering across his features. before he could apologize or step around the other, he was grabbed from behind. a pair of strong appendages pulled his arms behind his back, mouth opening to scream only for a cloth to be forced inside of it.

how could something like this be happening to him? in broad daylight nonetheless. his hands were promptly bound and another cloth was tied over his mouth and nose before he was thrown over the man’s shoulder, only to be carried to an expensive-looking suv with blacked-out windows. the worst part of it all? he saw his boyfriend standing a few good yards away from him on the field, completely oblivious to what was happening to him. despite it being fruitless, all he could do was cry out for harry through his gags as he squirmed in the man’s hold.

[ timeskip ]

marcel being late to practice was unlike him, even more so unlike him not to show up at all. during the first thirty minutes of practice, harry tried to remind himself that his boyfriend had been working on a group project beforehand. there was a good chance that time had unexpectedly gone over, especially if his partners showed up late. but when an hour passed, nerves settled in the pit of his stomach. something was wrong. he retreated into the locker room with the permission of his coach, fetching his phone from his cubby. he immediately checked his phone for any messages from the other, stomach churning as he found nothing.

[ text from harry: ] baby, where are you? everyone is worried and misses you. no answer. not even shown as read. marcel was one of the fastest texters that he knew — there had to be something wrong.

harry quickly gathered up his things before rushing back to his dorm room, eyes widening as he arrived to see their beds already moved apart. not only that but all of marcel’s belongings were gone. his clothes weren’t in the closet, his bed was bare, and there were no traces of the other. tears welled in his eyes as he fumbled for his phone.

[ text from harry: ] cel, where the fuck are you? this isn’t funny. what’s going on?

he could barely type the message out due to how much his hands were presently shaking.

tears began to trickle down his flushed cheeks as he sat down on the bare mattress, fingers tracing over the surface. they had just laid here last night, naked bodies flushed up against one another. words of love whispered in one another’s ears. but now all of that was gone in a flash.

a sudden knock on the door caused harry’s blurred vision to redirect itself, surprised to see the headmaster standing there.

“harrison, i thought that you should hear it from me that marcel had a family emergency and needed to go back to venezuela immediately. he will not be returning to school. i know it must be difficult for you to hear, considering you two were good friends.”

good friends, that caused him to let out a bitter laugh.

tears continued to roll down his cheeks, unable to hold them in anymore. why would he bother remaining composed when the only thing that kept him grounded was ripped away from him? nothing felt right. especially the bullshit explanation he was fed from the headmaster. if that were the case, marcel would have at least said goodbye. this had his parents written all over it.

from that day on, he sent marcel a text message saying he missed him and loved him every day.

none of them were ever opened.

he only stopped after a year, but his feelings remained the same.

#muse: harry livingstone

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avatarvyakara · 1 year

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On a similar theme (a continuation of Crimson Shades):

5. Nourrir

(v) nurture, nurse, entertain, fill; 1st singular perfect j’ai nourri

Our baby.

We could lose our baby.

VILE is family. We watch ourselves, we work together to finish the mission. We protect each other. And that means we don’t go rogue.

And Black Sheep was one of us. Is one of us. Was going to be one of us, until Shadowsan put in her final grade.

Looks like he’s feeling as bad as any of us, though. Guess he has his regrets too.

If I’d gone to check on her before graduation, then maybe she’d still be here. I didn’t think she’d want to be coddled. Lambkins has grown up so fast. But if Mama Bear had been to see her then, maybe she’d be facing the night watching the globe, wandering through the library, spending time with the family we’ve tried to give her. Not God knows where in the world, all on her own.

It’s gotta be Morocco. It’s gotta be.

Or maybe we could have brought her case before Shadowsan, gotten him to redo her exam. Maybe it wouldn’t be with the others in her class, but she’d be out there soon enough. Snatching from the best, she’d be.

Now I’m worried I’ll never get to see those moments. Her first robbery, her first kill, her first big scheme on her own. And she’d be so good at it. All those pranks, the grin she got when she watched me beating up people who picked on her (steal a man’s phone? Well extra credit to her if she did, but Lambkins would never hide something like that from me…I thought), the way she threw that Crackle boy over her shoulder on the first day? She’s made for this life. She’s got the right kind of dark in her. Won’t let nobody get in the way of her fun.

She could still have that. Maybe this’ll be the test she needed.

And then we could have a talk, afterwards, about what evil means. The others wouldn’t. They like to dodge the concept. Except Shadowsan, but the man don’t seem to want our baby to grow up.

Not that I blame him, altogether.

Evil just means you know what you are. We’ve all got that drive inside us, to want to one-up others, make sure our spot’s secure. We’ve all got that part that just loves knocking the enemy to the ground with a smirk, breaking the symbol of what makes them them, ending their life one way or another. So many goodbyes. We’ve all got an anger in us, and that puppy needs a lot of feeding. And that’s why there’s the League. So we can do that, the best of the best, make ourselves better. Build the family we were never gonna have otherwise.

The honour among thieves is ours alone. We’re all monsters. Don’t mean we can’t love, have fun, do things for others. Just means we know we’re all we have in the world. Gotta make yourself comfortable in life. So what if strangers suffer? They’re just as bad. Just don’t wanna admit it—or can’t get at you first.

The world is ours. Not because others don’t want it, but because we’re the only ones in the shadows. And it’s always night somewhere.

Bellum don’t understand about the why, she just wants to play. Cleo, too, with dollies ‘stead of dynamite. Maelstrom loves talking about shades of grey. Shadowsan respects the dark, knows how to harness it.

Me, I love my family. And I love hurting people. That’s just me.

Just didn’t know Black Sheep would mix them up like this.

No, no, she don’t mean nothin’ by it. Lambkins wanted to see the world. Always has. She don’t wanna hurt us. Betcha she’ll be right back with a gem as big as my fist, snatching it before the graduates, big smile on her face…

God, I hope she’s okay.

I’d kill if something happened to her.

#fanfic #carmen sandeigo 2019 #coach brunt #vile #carmen sandiego #black sheep #mama bear #one shot collection #interesting lady #crimson shades

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searchingforgravity · 1 year

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Summer Nights (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You work as a waitress at a local restaurant in Memphis when Elvis unexpectedly comes back into your life. The two of you were neighbors growing up, and you'd developed a crush on him before his fame skyrocketed. When he comes back to Memphis, he invites you to a house party at Graceland when things shift in your relationship.

TW: None (that I can think of. Maybe mild sexual harassment.)

Rating: PG (But not a PG story, there will be smut in the future.)

Word Count: 2642

A/N: This is a series I thought of a while back and have gotten the inspiration to continue. I want to do more 50's Elvis era, and I hope you guys enjoy this story!

Growing up, you had always known Elvis. You were his next door neighbor for as long as you can remember. For years, you and your family would visit his house for barbeques and birthdays, and his family would come to yours. He would always be so happy coming over to your house as he played with you and your siblings. Growing up with no siblings of his own, you were happy to have him whenever he came. You had gone through different phases of life together. From early childhood all the way up to early teens. He had always liked hanging around you, but tended to gravitate towards your older brothers, playing football and wrestling with them in the scorching summer heat. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't like watching him out there in the sun, his chest bare and his jeans low. When you got to your early teen years, you two weren't as close, the both of you going through various changes. Him having girlfriends and you having your nose stuck in your school books. "You like school, don't cha, Patsy?" Elvis had asked you one day while he was over at your house, roughhousing with your brothers. He had developed the nickname Patsy for you when he caught you practically yelling a Patsy Cline song when you thought no one was home, only to find Elvis at your front door grinning from ear to ear. You never did hear the end of it. "Yes," you respond, not looking up from your book. School allowed you to escape your hectic life of 2 older brothers and ,quite frankly, it made you feel smart. "And I need to study if I'm ever going to get out of this town, you know." You longed to leave Memphis. Not because you hated your hometown, but because you wanted to explore. See the world and all it had to offer. "How's about we get outta here someday. Really make somethin' of ourselves. You could make all the smart life choices when I wanna make some bad ones." At this you looked up. He smiled down at you, and to your surprise, he wasn't teasing. You two were never super close, so this statement made you blush as you shoved your face back in your book. "Come see me at graduation." The next week he had a girlfriend, and you'd forgotten about the conversation.

During your early teen years, though, was when you really started to fantasize about the boy. His body was filling out more, his features becoming more pronounced. He smile more captivating. You'd imagine him walking up to your house, knocking on your door, asking your dad to take you to the dance. Of course, he never did. He never liked you the way you liked him, or if he had, he never let you know. You figured he didn't even see you in that way, with him always being in love with a girl. To your disappointment, it was never you.

One of your guilty pleasures all throughout your life is when he would sing on those warm summer nights, thinking no one was around. You would hear it from your open window and listen with bated breath. You would be mesmerized completely by his voice. One night, when you were walking home from going to the movie theater with your friends, you heard him in his back yard, playing his guitar and singing his heart out. Having the trees as a hiding place, you would shield your body by one far enough away to not get caught, but close enough to see his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He looked absolutely beautiful. His chest bare from the heat, and his pants hanging loosely on his hips, he played that guitar and sang his heart out like he was performing in front of an audience. Little did he know, he was. He almost always was, and you were his number one fan.

Things have changed since then, with you now working as a waitress, trying to make ends meet in Memphis, while Elvis had blown up into a superstar and was God knows where doing God knows what. You wish that you two could've become close, not because of his fame, but because a big town can become lonely when you don't have anyone to share it with. You had heard that he bought a house in Memphis this year. No, not a house, a mansion. Your neighbor boy Elvis now lives in a mansion. You laugh to yourself at this, thinking what you would do if you had enough money for something like that.

"Hey, Earth to (y/n)!," the grill cook, Jeff yelled as he waved a meaty, scarred hand in your face. You blinked once, twice, pulling yourself out of your daydream. "Table 21 ain't gonna come back here and get their food themselves," he spit out, talking through his teeth as he chews on a soggy and demolished toothpick. Jeff is a pig. He is the typical, reach up the skirt, whistle at the girls type guy. On the flip side, when he's angry, you better hope you're not at work that day. He's always sweating as he eats more than enough calories to feed an entire town in one day. You've worked with him for four years now, and you don't have one good thing to say about the guy. The only reason he hasn't been fired is because of his surprising punctuality. And maybe the fact that your boss wouldn't do anything if anyone reported him for harassment anyway.

You quickly pick up the plates of food from the food line and hurry out of the kitchen, hearing a whistle leave his mouth after looking at your backside. You blush at this as a small hint of anger floods through you, pushing it down as you approach the table. "Alright folks, here we are. One American breakfast and some flapjacks." The two customers in front of you are regulars who always request you when they come in. Tim and his daughter Shirley. Tim is a quiet, sweet man in his mid thirties and he brings his daughter, Shirley, every week at the same time for some flapjacks. You aren't sure what happened to the mother, and you never intend on asking, you like the dynamic, and Tim always tips well.

"Thanks sweet heart, you're the best..." then, "You know...it's non a my business, but you shouldn't let that man talk to you that way. He's a great hog and you're too pretty to have anyone treat you like that." You blush as you look down, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks Tim, but it's just part of the job, you know." He grunts in disapproval but doesn't comment further. "Yeah, (y/n). You're too pretty to be a hog!" young Shirley of six years old shouts, bits of pancake hanging out of her mouth. This makes you giggle softly as you grab your small notebook from your coffee stained apron, getting ready for the next table. "Thank you Shirley q. Now you eat up your food and I'll be back over with your malt shake before you go." After a while of them being your regulars, you decided to give Shirley a milkshake on the house and you just kept doing it, paying for it out of pocket. From the way Tim looks at you when you do, you know that things are probably tight at home. People that have money to spare don't have that same glint of appreciation in their eye, you've come to notice. Not to the extent Tim does, anyway.

After a long day of waiting tables, your feet are sore as ever as you huff, finally sitting down for the first time in hours as you collapse in the drivers seat of your beat up truck your dad gave you for your 21st birthday. You still live at home since you have no boyfriend to speak of, and you can tell your parents are getting antsy for you to find someone. You turn the key in your ignition and it sputters a moment before roaring to life as you start down the road to go home. While driving, you turn on the radio, and non other than Elvis plays softly through the speakers. You smile to yourself, looking down at the radio as if you could see Elvis himself, like you are back at his backyard, hidden behind a tree as his fingers dance over that guitar.

You are jolted out of your memory when the front of your truck collides with someones bumper, having taken your eyes off the road for too long. You inhale sharply as your eyes snap forward. You think your heart almost stops when you see the car you hit, a pink Cadillac. Whoever you just hit has money, and you had none for the repairs if you damaged it. "Shit, shit, shit," you scold yourself as you unbuckle your seat belt, looking to the ground as you stumble out of the drivers seat, your feet landing on the pavement of a backroad on a hot Memphis night. "Sir, I am so sorry. I-" You are stopped short when you look up, finally seeing who you hand hit. Elvis Presley.

His face is filled with uncontrolled rage until you see recognition flood his features. "W-Wait a minute....Patsy?" he asks, shock now washing over him. You both stand there for a moment, stuck to your spot before he bursts into a fit of laughter. Your cheeks flush a brilliant red as you look down at feet, a soft smile playing on your face. Another few moments go by of his melodic laughter before he looks back at you. "Well, hell," he chuckles as he looks at you, his eyes swiftly traveling down your body, lingering only a moment before coming back to your face. "Well, don't be rude, come say hi! It's the least you can do for hittin' my car," he bellows and your feet carry you to him, almost on their own accord. When you reach him he envelopes you in his arms, pulling you to his chest as he gives you a bear hug. You can't help but laugh as you hug him back, before he grabs your shoulders, holding you out to look at you. "Wow, you sure grew up, didn't ya'" he observes as he looks at you again. Embarrassment runs through you as you gently shove his shoulder, the familiarity coming back to you. "Oh, stop it," you groan as you cross your arms over yourself, a smile returning to your face as you look in his eyes.

You are pulled away from him when the passenger door to his car opens, a movie star looking girl emerging from it. "Hello," she says sweetly, though her eyes bore into you like she wants to rip you to shreds. When her eyes trail to see you wearing your uniform, you see a smug smile play on her face. She's no longer threatened. Anger starts to bubble in your chest at this woman, but you aren't able to sit in it long before Elvis is speaking again. "(Y/n), this is my lady friend, Judy. Judy, this is (y/n). We grew up together," Elvis smiles, taking delight in this little interaction. At hearing this, Judy's expression changes completely, now sporting false excitement. "Oh, very nice to meet you, (y/n)," she chirps, no doubt trying to impress her boyfriend.

"Well, it's just great we ran into each other. It just so happens that I'm havin' a party this week, and I'd love it if you could make it. Ask your folks if they'd like to come. Hell, the brothers too. My mamma and daddy would just love it!" he beams. You glance at an excited Elvis, then at his girlfriend, her face now sour by his invitation. "Well...okay. Yeah, sure! That sounds great, and I'll let them know. But, Elvis, your car-" you start but he holds his hand up to stop you. "Not another word about that. I think I got enough money to take care of it," he states with a newfound sense of pride. "Really, let me help a little-" you try to argue but he stops you again. "Now, (y/n), I won't hear another word of it." You decide it's useless to argue as you look in his eyes, smiling in appreciation.

Looking at him for a moment longer you see a shift in his eyes, and it's as if he's seeing you, truly, for the first time since you were neighbors. He looks at your worn uniform, then to your truck before pulling you in for another hug. "Let me know if you ever need anything, doll," he whispers quickly before pulling away. You are about to inch away from him to say your goodbyes when he leans in and kisses your cheek. Electricity buzzes through you as you pull away, trying not to make it obvious that this flustered you. You smile at the pair of them as you say your goodbyes. "Nice to meet you Judy. And good to see you too Elvis. It's been a while." "You're tellin' me! Hey! Don't forget about that party this week! It's at 8 o'clock and Friday," he hollers as you get back to your truck. "Alright, I'll be there!" you yell back as you get in the drivers seat. "You better!" you hear his shout as he starts down the road. After shutting the door, you just sit there for a moment, looking out into the summer night, the lights from the Beale street strip in the distance.

"You're kiddin' me! Our neighbor boy Elvis! That's who you hit?" Your mom asks in disbelief, laughter escaping her at the concept. You and your mother are very close, she even knew about your crush on him growing up. "Oh man, I bet the care was a looker too wasn't it?" You sigh as you flop down on one of the kitchen chairs, your body aching. "Oh Mama, it was a Cadillac!" you say in exasperation, hiding your face in your hands. This makes her gasp, then laugh incredulously. "Well I'll be. Charlie! Did you hear that!" She calls for your dad, who is watching a sport game in the other room, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, you can smell the smoke. "(Y/n) you gotta pay that boy! That's a downright tragedy; poor car," he calls from the other room, amusement in his voice. "He wouldn't take money, dad! And thanks so much, I'm fine!" You tell them about the party he invited you all too and your parents are ecstatic. They were happy that they were going to see Elvis' parents and talk while their children mingle.

"Was he happy to see you, sweetie?" your mom asks in feigned innocence while she busies herself with cleaning the dishes. "He has a girlfriend mama, she was in the car with him. And he never wanted me anyways, he wouldn't now." At this your mom turns to you, her hand flying to her hip. "Now (y/n), you two were just kids then, things change. Your father and I knew each other since grade school and he didn't ask me out till we graduated." You roll your eyes as you get up from the table. "Oh mama," you sigh as you go to make your way to your bathroom. Before you get far you mom stops you, pulling you in for a short hug. "Your just as pretty as those movie stars, sweetie." That was the first night in about 4 years you shed a tear for your old neighbor.

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Tag List:

@flowersofcement @looloolily @tantamount-treason @horrorgirl4life @peaceloveelvis @goldobsessionsworld @father-of-2cats

#elvis imagine #elvis presley smut #elvis 2022 #elvis fanfic #elvis presley

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