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bluelockmaniac · 2 months

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baking disaster (ft. itoshi sae)

synopsis: you try to persuade your boyfriend into making cookies with you, but he's not the best baker.

cw: lots of fluff!! mentions of making out, i think sae slaps your butt once

author's note: i literally had to watch a cookie tutorial to make this fic because if baking were a sport, i'd definitely be on the bench permanently. so, i apologize to all bakers out there.

here you were, sitting on the couch next to your boyfriend, desperately clinging onto his chest as he fixates his bored gaze at what he called a 'pathetic excuse' of a football match. the only somewhat affectionate gesture he's giving you is an unexciting arm slung carelessly around your shoulder.

while sae was in practice, you had dedicated two hours dolling yourself up; attending to every little detail of your appearance carefully. you even lit a few vanilla-scented candles in the living room to romanticize the atmosphere, all in order to have a fun date night and bake cookies together. so, why have you spent the last thirty minutes attempting to convince him to follow through with your plans?

"sae," you whine softly, deliberately pressing more of your body against him as you bat your eyelashes pleadingly in an attempt to get his attention, and hopefully change his mind.

"pleasee, just this once! bake chocolate chip cookies with me!"

he cocks his head subtly, looking over at you with half-lidded eyes. "i told you already, darling. i can't bake for shit."

"i know you're probably more likely to start a kitchen fire than bake a decent cookie, but that's why i'm here!"

you look up at him lovingly as his hand travels to your cheek, giving it a light squeeze.

"if that's what it takes to shut you up, then i guess i'll make these lukewarm cookies."

he quickly plants a chaste kiss on your lips as the trace of a very unnoticeable—yet unmistakable— smirk appears on his mouth.

in the kitchen, you rolled up your sleeves and gestured towards the pantry and cabinets, instructing sae to look for the dry ingredients with a rather authoritative tone.

"sae, find the flour, baking soda, and salt. they should be in there somewhere."

he rolls his eyes and gives your ass a light slap, "when'd you get so bossy, pretty?"

you giggle as he disappears into the pantry, turning your attention to the bowl on the counter. with determination, you begin to vigorously beat the soft butter and the brown and white sugar together until it formed a chunky mixture.

"y/n," you hear your boyfriend's frustrated voice call out as he walks closer to you with a displeased expression. "i can't find the ingredients, where'd you even bury them?"

"oh sweetheart," rolling your eyes with a mocking grin tugging on your lips, you teasingly smack his chest and enter the pantry, effortlessly locating the loathsome ingredients that caused your lovely boyfriend's annoyance. "you really couldn't find the ingredients that were practically screaming their location? how lukewa—"

"y/n."

"cute, i meant cute!" you defend yourself with a wholehearted laugh, unaware of the genuine smile forming on sae's lips as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear (his smile quickly dissipated into a more subtle one once you turned towards him).

"sae, get me two eggs... in the fridge."

he lets out a soft sigh and places them on the counter, looking at you for further instruction. "well?"

you shake your head, feigning disappointment as your hand finds its way to your forehead.

"crack the eggs, silly,"

"oh, right..."

"and make sure to do it gentl—"

crack

sae slams the egg on the counter with an unnecessarily excessive force, sending shells and egg whites flying everywhere across the kitchen.

"oh. oops." he says blankly, staring at the slimy mess in his hands— and the counter. he looks over to you expecting to be scolded, but is instead greeted with your loud laughter, your banging fists assaulting the poor counter.

"seriously sae...haha...ha... what did you expect would happen??"

he glances away in embarrassment and quickly washes his hands. "shut up."

"it's okay, love, you can try aga—"

"no."

"—thought so. okay, i'll do it, can you measure half a teaspoon of salt? the measuring cups are over there."

you point somewhere in the kitchen as you turn your attention back to the bowl, cracking two eggs and adding vanilla extract into the mixture.

"baby, let's mix the dry ingredients now!"

you say excitedly as sae appears behind you, placing his hands on your waist as he gently kisses your neck.

without you noticing, your boyfriend scoops a handful of flour. "y/n."

when you turn around, unsuspecting, he brings his hands close to your face and blows the flour from his hands, dusting your cheeks and nose with the powdery residue.

"what the— sae!" you were caught completely off guard at his playful and not so sae-coded gesture, and after seeing him laugh—a rare sight to behold—you couldn't help but break into laughter as well (his laugh is very contagious).

"you look adorable,"

he teases, caging you against the kitchen counter with his strong limbs, preventing you from returning his pleasant surprise.

"heyy, that's not fair!" you huff in annoyance as you squirm around his arms.

"life's not fair, mi amor."

after (a small session of making out), you instruct sae to mix the flour, salt, and baking soda—which he does uncooperatively— you mix combine the powdery compound with the wet mixture.

"alrightt, time for the fun part!" you exclaim cheerfully, lightly smacking the bag of chocolate chips against his chest as you stare at his powder-covered face. a few moments ago, while you were making out, your flour-dusted hands left many imprints on his cheeks. "i'll add the amount you want because you look adorable."

he rolls his eyes, an irritating smirk ghosting over his mouth as he attempts to brush away the lingering flour from his face. "hm. then don't add too mu—"

"on second thought, your charm won't sway me into accepting your very absurd demand— they're chocolate chip cookies, sae, not classic cookies!" you protest, pouring in a bit more than a cup of chocolate chips into the batter, meeting his gaze with a proud, cheeky smile as he sighs and raises his hands in defeat.

"you're a brat."

—

you sit on the kitchen counter, a proud smile on your lips as you watch him awkwardly roll the chocolate chip dough into imperfect little spheres, then place them onto the baking tray in a slightly messy arrangement. you had managed to persuade him after telling him they would resemble miniature soccer balls, and now looking at his attentive features, you couldn't help but snap a few pictures to treasure this moment.

giggling softly, you affectionately ruffle his hair, teasing, "i've never seen you so focused on anything other than soccer, handsome."

he huffs and presses his lips together before giving you a light nudge. "you brought out my hidden talent."

"pftt. yeah. talent." you snort mockingly, running your hand soothingly up and down his back.

rolling his eyes, he pushes the baking tray in your direction, a faint pout on his lips, "oh, be quiet."

you carefully place the tray in the oven before joining him in the living room, where he immediately plops down onto the couch. attempting to squeeze in beside him, you gently nudge him, "sae, move over," but he looks at you lazily and shrugs, "just lay on the other couch or something."

puffing out your cheeks in frustration, you chose to lay on his chest instead. without hesitation, he quickly pulls you closer by the waist, snuggling you warmly as his hands find their way to your ass.

fifteen minutes later, you cautiously remove the tray from the oven (sae didn't remove it because he was scared of the heat radiating from the oven) and set it on the counter to cool, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you lean against your boyfriend. "baby, don't they look delicious?" you ask eagerly, impatiently tapping your fingers against the marble surface. "meh," he replied nonchalantly, purposely trying to annoy you.

"okay pretty boy, you taste it first," you say with a short giggle, offering sae a cookie near his mouth. hesitantly, he takes a bite. with soon-to-be misconceived pride, you optimistically ask, "soo, how does it tas—" your words trail off as he spits the cookie into the trash, his face contorting in disgust. "blegh,"

you were caught off guard, and rolled your eyes in disappointment, "oh come on, sae. it can't be that bad," you say confidently, taking a daring bite of the cookie in an attempt to prove him wrong. however, this fleeting confidence immediately turns into regret as you gag and hurriedly spit it into the trash. "ew, what the fuck?" you choke in disgust, reaching for two glasses and hastily fill them with water. you pass one to sae and quickly chug down the water to wash away the unpleasant taste.

"why is it so salty?" you ask in confusion, closing your eyes as you ponder in thought. you suddenly notice your boyfriend's uncharacteristic type of silence, watching how he presses his lips together and avoids meeting your gaze. there is definitely a subtle hint of guilt in those narrowed teal eyes fixated on the baking tray of cookies. your eyes widen in realization, "wait a minute," you begin, connecting his behaviour with your growing suspicion.

"sae, show me the measuring cup you used to measure the salt,"

"...it's over there," your eyes follow his finger, and eventually settle on the culprit responsible for the cookie failure—the measuring cup sitting innocently on the kitchen counter.

you smack your forehead at the comical mistake sae had made, then turn to look at him. he was still trying to avoid your eyes, but eventually sighs and meets your gaze awkwardly.

"sweetheart, that's a 1/4 cup, not half a teaspoon! that's about eleven teaspoons too many!" you say shaking your head with amusement.

he runs the back of his neck as he yet again focuses his eyes on something else,

"...oh."

bonus:

late at night, you two are cozily draped over the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. sae had ordered takeout to make amends for the baking mishap— although he stubbornly claimed "it was deliberate— to enhance the flavour,". despite the cookie baking failure, you enjoyed you and your boyfriend's special bonding in the kitchen. you wished the next time you two baked together, it would turn out a success.

"don't wanna. also, why am i rolling the dough on your lock screen wallpaper?"

thank you for reading! comments appreciated :)

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #bllk manga #blue lock sae #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #blue lock fluff #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios

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reasonsforhope · 6 months

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"A company in France has developed genetically-enhanced houseplants that remove 30 times more indoor air pollutants than your normal ficus.

Paint, treated wood, household cleaners, insulation, unseen mold—there is a shopping list of things that can fill the air you breathe in your home with VOCs or volatile organic compounds. These include formaldehyde and other airborne substances that can cause inflammation and irritation in the body.

The best way to tackle this little-discussed private health problem is by keeping good outdoor airflow into your living spaces, but in the dog days of summer or the depths of a Maine winter, that might not be possible.

Houseplants can remove these pollutants from the air, and so the company Neoplants decided to make simple alterations to these species’ genetic makeup to supercharge this cleaning ability.

In particular, houseplants’ natural ability to absorb pollutants like formaldehyde relies on them storing them as toxins to be excreted later.

French scientists and Neoplants’ co-founders Lionel Mora and Patrick Torbey engineered a houseplant to convert them instead to plant matter. They also took aim at the natural microbiome of houseplants to enhance their ability to absorb and process VOCs as well.

The company’s first offering—the Neo P1—is a Devil’s ivy plant that sits on a custom-designed tall stand that both maximizes its air-cleaning properties and allows it to be watered far less often.

Initial testing, conducted by the Ecole Mines-Telecom of Lille University, shows that if you do choose to shell out the $179 for the Neo P1, it’s as if you were buying 30 houseplants. Of course, if you went for the budget route of 30 houseplants, you’d have to water them all.

The founders pointed out in an interview done with Forbes last year that once they settled on the species and fixed the winning genetic phenotype, the next part of the process was just raising plants, the same activity done in every nursery and florist in every town in Europe."

Deliveries for the P1 are estimated for August 2024.

-via Good News Network, November 6, 2023

Note: I'm not a plant biologist, but if this works the way the company's white paper says it does, holy genetic engineering, Batman.

(Would love to hear thoughts from anyone who is a plant biologist or other relevant field!)

#plant biology #superplant #pollution #indoor plants #plantblr #house plants #plantlife #hope posting #solarpunk #small business #genetic engineering #genetics #molecular biology #microbiome #respiratory health #france #ivy

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bethanythebogwitch · 9 months

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If you asked me as a kid what my favorite animal was, there's a good chance I'd respond "chambered nautilus", though I probably would mispronounce it. I don't know if it's still my favorite but it's definitely up there in the pantheon of weird critters. For this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'll discuss my childhood favorite.

(image: a nautilus)

The nautilus is a cephalopod that lives in a curved shell and looks similar to (but is not closely related to) the extinct ammonites. There are 6 living species in two genera, but 90% of the time when someone is discussing nautiluses they are referring to the most well-known species: Nautilus pompilius or the chambered nautilus. Nautiloids are ancient, going back to at least the late triassic with their more primitive ancestors going back as far as the ordovician period, a time when only invertebrates and primitive plants occupied the land and true fish had not yet appeared. Because of their ancient history, nautiluses are sometimes considered living fossils. I have ranted before on how misleading the term "living fossil" is so I'll spare you that for now. Nautiloids are considered a sister group to the celoids, which contains all the squid, octopus, cuttlefish, and everything else we thinks of as cephalopods. Nautiluses should not be confused with paper nautiluses. Also called argonauts, paper nautiluses are a group of octopi that make an egg case which looks like a shell.

(image: a nautilus)

The most noticeable feature of a nautilus is its shell. The shell is smooth and finely curving, naturally growing in the shape of a logarithmic spiral (though not, as is commonly stated, a golden ratio spiral). The shell has a stripy outer layer and an inner layer coated with nacre. Internally, the shell is divided into camarae (chambers) separated from each other by walls called septa. Each septum has a small hole in it through which a strand of tissue called the siphuncle passes. Most of the nautilus's body is in the foremost and largest chamber. The shell grows new septa as the animal grows, with the nautilus's body moving to a new chamber as it becomes too large for previous ones. Juveniles are typically born with 4 septa, with adults having as many as 30. In addition to providing protection from predators, the shell is also key for regulating buoyancy. The septa can contain pressurized gas or water and the siphuncle regulates their contents by either adding or removing water to increase or decrease buoyancy. Because of its pressurized contents, the shell can only withstand pressure at depths up to 800 M (2,400 ft) before imploding. Oddly enough, nautiluses can be safely brought up from deep waters where most animals would be killed by the pressure changes. To move, the nautilus pulls water into the first chamber of the shell using its hyponome (siphon) and shoots it back out. The chambered nautilus is the largest species, with a maximum shell diameter of 25 cm (10 in), though most get no larger than 20 cm (8 in).

(image: a diagram of nautilus anatomy. source)

Where celoid cephalopods have tentacles, nautiluses instead have numerous cirri. Unlike tentacles, cirri are less muscular, are not elastic, and have no suckers. They are used to grab objects using their ridged surfaces and can hold in so hard that trying to take an object away from a nautilus can rip off its cirri, which will remain firmly attached. In addition, the nautilus has modified cirri that serve as olfactory receptors and a pair that serve to open and close the shell when the nautilus needs to retract into it or emerge. Nestled within the cirri is the beak, which is used to consume the nautilus's primary prey of invertebrates, though they have also been seen scavenging fish. Their eyes are less developed than most cephalopods, lacking a lens and consisting of a small pinhole that only allows the nautilus to see simple imagery. Their brains are differently structured than most cephalopods and studies have found them to have considerably shorter long-term memories.

(image: a chambered nautilus (upper left) next to a rare Allonautilus scrobiculatus. source)

Cephalopod reproduction is quite different than that of other cephalopods. While most cephalopods are short-lived and semelparous (reproducing only once), nautiluses can live over 20 years and reproduce multiple times (iteroparity). They do not reach sexual maturity until around 15 years old, with females laying eggs once per year. Eggs are attached to rocks and take 8 to 12 months to hatch. Males have a structure called the spadix composed of 4 fused cirri that they use to transfer sperm to females. Females lose their gonads after laying their eggs and will regenerate them for the next year's mating season. Interestingly, male nautiluses seem to vastly outnumber the females. EDIT: @bri-the-nautilus in the replies found an alternate explanation for the disparity in male and female numbers you should check out. TLDR; the females are asocial.

(image: nautiluses mating)

Nautiluses are found in the Indo-Pacific reagion of the ocean and can be found on the steep slopes of coral reefs. They prefer to inhabit waters several hundred meters down. It was once believed that they would rise to shallow waters at night to feed, lay eggs, and mate, but their vertical migration behavior has since been shown to be more complex than that. They have noon been fished by humans for their shells, which have become popular subjects in art and can be made into a number of decorative pieces. The nacre of the shell can be polished into osmeña pearl, which can be quite valuable. Demand for the shells combined with the late sexual maturity and low fecundity is threatening all the species. As of 2016, nautiluses have been added to the CITES Appendix II, making them protected by limiting international trade of their shells. Despite this, they are still threatened and require further protection

(image: a carved and painted nautilus shell from the Poldi Pezzoli Museum, Milan)

#wet beast wednesday #nautilus #chambered nautilus #cephalopod #marine biology #zoology #biology #ecology #animal facts

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bowieandqueen11 · 8 months

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Leon Kennedy Being Protective Would Include...

Request: Hi there!! I saw you were open for Resident Evil requests, and I was wondering if I could request some angry headcanons of Leon being protective of an injured reader maybe?

Sure my lovely! I can't wait to see Death Island, I've missed seeing Chris and Jill together ;3

It's been a little while since I've written so forgive me if this is a jumbled mess, I'm trying :')

Warning: very very slightly spicy! Mentions of injury/blood and a little strong language!

(I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @halfwayriight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

I hope y'all don't mind I write for RE4 Leon because PHEW this man just keeps getting finer and finer please-

Being sent to rescue the President's daughter in a remote rural Spanish village wasn't exactly how you figured the few weeks after yours and Leon's engagement would go, but considering your track record you probably should have seen it coming. Ever since the two of you survived the horrifying events of Raccoon City nearly seven years ago, Leon had refused to leave your side for a moment. Wanted to run out and grab groceries while Leon had finally, after hours and hours of arduous training had crashed out on the couch? Too bad! The blanket you had tucked around his waist is soon flung to the floor, a sixth sense ringing in the back of his head that you were leaving, and soon you can hear the soft patter of his socks as he runs to pull his trainers on and follow out the door after you. Krauser wanted to match the two of you up with separate trainees during your sparring matches? Too bad! Leon mutters and argues with him in the corner of the training ground until he swings with a big grin over to you, using the session as an excuse to try and pin you to the wall, or the ground as often as he good, his thick bicep wrapping around the arch of your back until you were trapped impossibly close to his panting mouth.

I mean, he is a giant dork so be ready for a terrible, absolutely cheesy beyond belief one liner. His breath glances behind the shell of your ear as you try to squirm out of his grasp, but his bicep flexes tightly in time, keeping you squarely pressed up against his abdomen. The tip of his knife clashes against your own, propelling you backwards and only further into his eager hands. You should see his face: despite how hard and soul destroying he finds the agent training, the look of absolute delight that crinkles in the corners of his eyes and raises the edges of his usually sullen lips could rival the ferocity of the sun. That's the effect you have on him: enough to bring weaker men to their knees. Enough that he would travel through hell for eternity, relieve the nightmares he wakes up mewling from each night, if only to feel your heartbeat pressed up against his flushed skin.

'Well beautiful, looks like you're caught between a knife and a hard place.'

Although he moves with you, you can feel a slight bulge begin to form in his cargo pants anytime your hips pulse back against his own. 'And you, Rookie', you murmur out, enjoying the way his stomach seems to warm against you at the words: the way you can feel his heartrate spike. 'Should stop moving your mouth and instead look at your feet.'

His eyes widen in surprised horror as you use the heel of your right boot to kick out his feet from beneath him, legs flying up in the air as you use your weight to knock him onto the matt behind his ass. You can't help but bust out laughing at the way he lands on his back like a little bug, holding out a hand to help him back up. You should have known that wasn't going to happen from the shit eating grin that stormed across his face as soon as his fingers grasped against your own, but when you face planted into his neck, your legs bracing themselves by landing tightly around his thighs, neither of you were complaining. Well, until Krauser gave you both clean up duty for messing around, but it was well worth it.

As you're piling away stocks of boot knives back into their correct storage cases, you feel the soft bump of Leon's hip hit against your own; despite being berated in front of all your fellow agents, he was still glowing. You sigh, hitting the back of his shoulder. 'I must really love you, you know that?'

His face whips around, mouth dropping open in mild shock as he blinks at you. 'That reminds me, I haven't told you I love you today!'

'Leon, you did at breakfast, in the canteen remember? And in the changing room. And when I left to use the bathroom', you start to count on your fingers, ignoring Leon who's trying to pull at your hands and tug your attention back to him. 'And when we started clearing up!' He just ducks between your arms, starting to chuckle as he reaches up and presses a kiss to your forehead.

'Well, I still do love you. More than anything.'

When the two of you had received the orders for your current mission, Leon was more than relieved to be coming as your partner. It also meant, though, that during the whole drive up the rickety country lanes, your tired stupors gazing out at the knobbly branches and half-dead roots of the surrounding countryside were disturbed by your fiancée constantly checking up on you. I mean, for the last hour you could find his eyes burning blazing holes into the side of your face, he spent every moment he wasn't flicking through the case files glancing at you behind bowed, wispy eyelashes. It was a continuous thing: catching his reflection admiring you as his irises rolled over your face before back down to his lap with a hoarse cough.

From time to time, when the Spanish police offers here to 'help' and 'accompany you' and 'give you anything you need' in your rescue of Ashley distract him with their hunched together heads and incessant whispering, you'll find him reaching over with a soft exhale to grab the edges of your fingers. He finds it grounding, comforting, to absentmindedly latch onto your hand and fiddle with the engagement ring on your finger; half the time he doesn't even realise you're doing it until he turns to you with surprised eyes, feeling you give his knuckles a reassuring squeeze. You're more than happy to share the adoring smile he bashfully sends your way, sliding his hand into your lap and rubbing your pointer finger tenderly over the scars on his palm.

When the two of you are attacked after a tumultuous journey to the main square of the village, you can barely side step the chickens clucking between your feet before Leon's jumped in front of you like a flailing shield. With arms spread wide like a flapping bird and a torso stiff enough you're surprised the hatchets don't just bounce off his pecs, he matches your every step like a shadows sewed onto your toes. It's almost like watching acrobatics, or more likely a circus act as you try your best to aim past Leon's head while he simultaneously uses his knife to stop a pitchfork from slamming into the side of your head. He's constantly dragging you over the shattered glass of window edges, kicking down ladders and pushing you behind him as he swoops his head out of the way of the oncoming chainsaw. Or worse, he uses his own body as a shield when the two of you have to jump off the roof of a hut you had become very conveniently stuck on, tucking you into his chest like a koala bear and rolling the two of you safely to a stop in a very stinky puddle of mud. He refuses to let you go until the Church bells stop ringing, and only then because he's nearly suffocating you with how tightly his arms are squeezed around your head.

On the lake, Leon is more than willing to let himself drown if it means saving you. When Del Lago tips over your rickety little raft, sending the two of you tumbling down into the imperceptible depths with a loud crash, alarm bells immediately start ringing in Leon's ears. He's not entirely sure if it's the shock of the freezing cold waves, or the way his whole body is nearly convulsing, doubled over in wracking shivers as he swims down into the deep to try and find you, but he manages in just the nick of time to grab onto your wrist and pull you out of the way of a set of mammoth gnashing teeth. He clumsily places his palms flat against the bottom of your ass, and nearly knocks the breath out of himself with how harshly he shoves you back into the boat in one fell swoop; so forcefully, in fact, that he nearly sends you ass over heels tumbling over the other side again. Your surprise is short lived, though, when you grab onto the edge of the rocking wood and peer over to see the fringes of Leon's hair floating almost serenely on the water's edge as he's dragged under.

Once you manage to haul him back up, you grit your teeth as he lands unceremoniously on your lap and clambers into a sitting position. Although he's trying his best to look calm, you can tell by the way he winces his head when you touch his knee that he's injured: the droplets of crimson that adorn your fingertips like the ink of a bleeding heart only consolidates the fact. You do your best to staunch it with your hand, reaching behind you with the other to try and steer the rudder over into the dock of a half collapsed-roof shelter, only to be distracted by the weight of Leon's torso resting against your heart. He literally does not give two shits about the fact that there's a pool of watery blood thrumming in time to the engine's hum as you drive forward, too busy cupping your cheeks with those fervent, gloved hands. His eyes are so wild, and oh so terrified as he checks you over, tilting your chin this way and that way as if to reassure himself. He's beginning to blink rapidly: an early sign that the trauma of your shared past is flooding into the locked away crevices of his head, and he's starting to panic.

His mouth blubbers open and shut, eyes falling sternly as he tries to stop himself from crumbling. As his shaking thumbs wipe some damp hair away from your eyes. As he stares deep into your eyes, the crying rookie you knew years ago locked behind his marred gaze. As his bottom lip trembles, like a man who nearly just lost everything... again.

'Are you alright?', he finally manages to choke out, as if the words are poison seeping out from the corners of his lips. He's terrified to say them: to know the answer, and yet he swallows thickly and repeats the question. 'Are you okay? Tell me your alright. Please.'

'Leon, sweetheart, I need to get the gauze out of my pack to try and stop your leg from falling off', you huff out with an exasperated light-heartedness, trying to make your fiancée smile again. Or in the least, loosen his grip on your cheeks so he didn't leave bruises. You knew what he was doing: back when the two of you were trapped within the enclosing walls of the Raccoon City Police Department, any time the two of you were separated, it would be the first question out of his mouth. His feet barely had time to stop themselves sliding across the floor, the hard material of his body armour nearly slamming into your chest as he wildly asked you. 'Are you alright?' Any time a licker grabbed at your ankle, any time an infected civilian pounced out of an unilluminated doorway to sink their teeth into the sweet flesh of your neck, as soon as the gunshot had finished reverbing through your head it would be the next thing you would hear.

'Are you okay?'

These days, the question usually fell into the night: a broken cry through the imposing isolation of twilight. When he would shoot up in bed, nearly scaring the wits end out of you until you realised what was going on. Glancing out into the dim shadows, you would blink languidly as Leon's hunched back, the juttering of the mattress quickly alerting you to the fact that he had his head tucked down into his hands, his hunched back tense as he cried. As you would sit up to rub at his back and guide him back down to bed, to rest his head down on top of you, his hands would scramble desperately until they reached yours. His bloodshot eyes were enough to send a jolt of fear spiking through your heart as his mouth fell open in heart-wrenching sob. 'Are you alright - are you alright? Are you real?'

It was almost enough to break you.

'Please, Y/n. I need to hear you say it.' Your drawn out of your thoughts by the feel of something damp landing on your fingertips. Leon was doing nothing to wipe them away, and so you finally relent and glance your eyes up to him. Soggy, shivering, a frown horrid enough to drive the devil out of hell, and wet eyes shining like fresh dew, the man arched before you was an enigma of multitudes. You could spot that frightened young boy in him, the one who had flushed crimson any time you had offered him his hand back at Raccoon City, lost somewhere within the hardened lines of the agent he had been berated to become.

You do the only thing in that moment the cogs in your brain can process: you pull him in for a hug. He falls easily against you, weightily, and you notice that he's not holding anything back as he rests the jut of his chin on your shoulder. He lets his hands fall until they're enclosed beneath the brackets of your arms, trying to squeeze his eyes shut and stop himself from whining when he feels the soft shapes you begin tracing over the wide expanse of his damp back.

And then you pass out? And Leon realises that you're infected too? That fear, that anguish he held in his heart suddenly revolved into fresh fury that coursed through every vein in his body. For a moment, as a cold shiver rolling through your tired body wakes you up, you can't figure out for the life of you where you are. Splintered wood seems to be scraping against the back of your legs, your hazy mind nearly lulled back to sleep by the sound of water gently lapping against the edge of the planks. It's only when you feel your head shift that you realise you're lying on Leon's thighs, whose looking down at you like the most heavenly cherub you've ever seen. He's biting his bottom lip, obviously conflicted, until he notices your awake and suddenly you're being tugged up as if you're a ragdoll. Before you can even say anything, Leon's pressing a dozen little pouty lipped kisses against every free inch of your face: drawing his bottom lip quickly over every line of cells that only a couple of minutes ago were tainted black with tendrils.

From then on, he tries not to show it. He tries not to belittle you, knowing you're as fully trained and even more competent than he is, but you're not stupid. You know Leon far too well, far too intimately, far too familiarly and easily for that. You notice the extra little touches here and there: a tighter grip by your hip bone when he gives you a lift up onto ledges, a clenched fist on your shoulder as he goes first through unlatched gates, magnum drawn at the ready as he points the red laser sight down into the cavernous mounds above the fish farm. The swifter, more intense glances whenever he notices you squeezing your fists shut, fingernails digging in and drawing blood as you try to stop the Plagas from burning up your forearm.

It's not until you reach the Castle's drawbridge that Leon's fury really starts to become physically visible. Even though Salazar had only been monitoring the two of you for a couple of hours, he was sharp enough to realise that Leon would raze the whole crumbling heap of a place to the ground if it meant keeping you safe. So what does he do? Clouds your mind, makes you a passenger to your own actions. As soon as your boot lands on the rubbled stones of the courtyard, Leon's swooping his head back as the point of your knife comes dashing towards his face, slicing a thin line across his eyebrow. He doesn't even blink as he races over to grab your arm, trying to pull you back against him as he had all those times in training, only to be met by your wicked grin. He was too slow: just out of reach as his gloved hand reaches out and shudders in horror as he watches you jam the tip of your knife into the soft skin of your side.

The wound is shallow, but it's enough to knock you out for the count. And for the rest of his life, Leon will spend every moment of every day blaming himself for it.

This man 100% gives you a piggyback, running like a wild mare through the bowels of the castle's barracks. He doesn't even seem to notice that a giant ass ogre is throwing huge boulders at his face, not even seeming to care as he leverages the full force of his body to kick out and send another hooded cultist tumbling over into the unfathomable abyss below. He doesn't even break a sweat as he uses his elbow to break the weight holding down the cannon, gripping onto the back of your thighs with clawing fingernails, as if he were trying to crawl into you, or die trying.

Once he's sure the two of you are safely within the Castle walls, he finally manages to catch Luis on his comms. Although you can't hear what he's saying, his knife edged tone cuts through the air as he mutters angrily, his shoulders hunched and tense. You piece together from where you're writhing in pain against the wall that he's 'persuading' Luis in a mildly threatening manner to meet the two of you in the cellars instead of the ballroom.

Luis steps back in surprise when he sees the two of you, not prepared to find Leon holding the agent that had nearly knocked him ass over heels a few hours ago being held bridle style in the man's arms. Leon refuses to let Luis carry you, and so the two finally compromise by you staying tight against Leon's chest, and Luis leading the two of you into a safer area deeper within the winding corridors of the ornate halls.

He surprisingly manages to lead the two of you into a tucked away little alcove by the main staircase with little trouble, beckoning Leon to place you down on one of the velvet chairs so he could clumsily try his best to patch you up. He keeps getting disturbed though, and you notice him getting more and more wound up by the way Leon peers over his jacket and watches his every movement like a buzzing wasp. You try to calm him down by reminding him that Ashley is the priority here, not you, but he just waves you off and crosses his arms with a grim frown. He turns instead to pace the eggshell carpet, distracting his mind by keeping watch.

You know he's worried. You know he's battling an unrooted anguish festering deep within his soul. That's been eating away at him for years. You know he's stressed, that he's sorrowful, that behind his tough exterior he spends his whole life feeling guilty. You know it reminds him of that day back in Raccoon City, when you had taken a bullet for him down in the sewers and he thought he had lost you for the first time. But you just couldn't find the right words the say. Couldn't find the right sentence to comfort him, to offer solace to his shuddered heart, to comfort the joyous kid you know he suffocates. To remind him that you're still here... and so is he. To force him to understand that everything that has happened to you, to him, none of it has been his fault. That he's a victim of circumstance, of it all, just as much as Ashley has been.

But why? Why oh why can't you tell him? Why can't you remind him of all the goodness that came after: how the threat of loss and the scent of death had been eclipsed, lulled into a type of serenity on that sterile cable car? When Leon had nearly jumped over the railings, just managing to slip through the closing doors in time to sit down on the bench next to you.

'You really think you can get rid of me that easily', he had murmured with a hoarse chuckle, but he looked like he was doing his best to choke back tears at the thought of you, thirty minutes ago on death's door, going down to face the dangers of the labs below. Thirty minutes ago, he had been on the brink of giving up as he had wrapped his gore stained jacket around your shoulder, and rushed headfirst into danger. He had been ready to let Mr. X to find him. To crush him. To end it all, at the thought of having to live without you.

He looked tired. God, he had looked so tired, as he awkwardly perched next to you. His lashes lazily blinked the tears back as he bashfully switched between checking his gun was loaded and fiddling with his fingers, unsure as how to start. Unsure as how to unload all the feelings that were stomping down on his chest, kicking up at his lungs and forcing a breathless exhale to leave him.

'You need to come with a warning sign you know, the amount of heart attacks you've nearly given me', he finally starts, mustering up the courage to glance his eyes sideways and look at you.

'Well, when we get out of here-'. He winces, and you grab tenderly onto the top of his hand. 'When we get out of here, I'll just- I'll have to make it up to you.' He smiles then, and you relish in the feeling.

'Oh yeah? How are you going to do that? 'Cause I was about to ask you out, but now you've done my job for me yet again I want to see what you've got planned.' You turn your head away and flush, and his heart swoons.

'How about... shakes and fries? I know a great place on 24th street-'. Before you can get your tangled mess of shaking words out, you're stopped by the pressure of Leon's plump lips gingerly pressing against your own. He pulls away quickly, bashfully nearly doubling in on himself like a tortoise retreating into its shell as he realises what he had impulsively done, chiding his body as his cheeks burn like lava. You watch him, mouth slightly agape but mind blank, and he thinks he's ruined everything until you lean forward and kiss him again.

You thump your head back against the crest that ran around the wall, wincing as you began to feel a headache snake around your temples. A final tug against the knotted bandage wrapped wonkily around your abdomen draws you out of the warm clutch of your daydream.

'You know', Luis starts with a smirk, and you can just tell he's about to teasingly cause trouble. 'Usually in the fairy tales, when the brave knight in shining armour helps the princess, he gets a kiss for his trouble.'

'You're about to get my foot in your mouth for your troubles', Leon growls out from where he's leaning against the banister.

'Thank you', you tell Luis seriously, giving his hand a tight squeeze as he removes it from your waist with a satisfied hum.

'This should hold until we get down to my lab. All my equipment should still be there, unless they've burned the place to the ground already, of course', he replies with a wink in your direction.

He could tell that Leon was growing more and more peevish, so Luis very astutely and very shrewdly decided to give the two of you some space. He tugs at your hand, pressing a final kiss against your knuckle before cocking his head and giving you a salute, spinning around on one heel. He swaggers off, using his shoulder to shove open one of the wing's doors, before peering in and allowing himself to be shrouded by the darkness within.

Leon won't even look at you. You can feel the self hatred literally seething off him like steam.

'You can't lose me that easily, you know?'

That makes him stop in his tracks. He slowly spins round, the frown hardening his face softening into a fond smile as he watches you struggle to a stand. You close the distance between the two of you, cupping his cheek and trying desperately to make him believe you. 'You won't lose me. You know how stubborn I am. I won't allow it.'

For the first time since the two of you had left your apartment a couple of days ago, Leon cracks a smile. You do the only thing you can do in that moment: you reach forward like he did all those years ago and kiss him, your mouth drawing over the salty tears beaded on his upper lip line. You pull away with a pop, and Leon looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, all the tenderness in the world pouring out from his heart and melting out of his pores as he grips onto your elbows.

'You promise?' His voice is harsh, but vulnerability trembles between the gaps of every word as he traces the stretch of skin where your engagement ring lies.

'Every minute of every day, Rookie. You know why? Because I love you more than anything.'

'Hey, that's my line!'

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy headcanons

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jasminsstories · 3 months

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How finals week with Zayne by your side would be…probably:

gn!reader x zayne / fluff; just for fun, don’t take this seriously pls

will try to support you as much as he can, since he knows best how hard studying is

“I told you to start earlier than to cram the material in the last minute. It won’t stick in your long-term memory this way” “Zayne, I don’t care if it sticks in my long-term memory as long as I pass this exam”

“Come here and eat this before continuing”

Basically drags you daily to the kitchen table where he prepared healthy meals

“But why do only I have carrots in my salad?” “Because you need Vitamin B to stay fit for your exams” “Just say you gave all of your carrots to me, because you don’t like them!”

“If you continue to drink so much coffee, I am afraid I will see you in the ER soon because of arrhythmia… and I don’t want that” “Zayne, you can’t just hide my coffee machine!!”

opens the windows regularly to help you concentrate and makes sure you stay hydrated

definitely will try to lure you out for walks to get some steps in

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see the sunset?” “I do, I really want… but I have to get this done today” “Let’s go, you need some Vitamin D” *suddenly lifts you up bridal style* “Hey, let me down!!” *acts like he doesn’t hear you*

the more time passes and the deeper the night gets with every passing minute, you can’t stop yawning and rubbing your heavy eyelids; still you try to focus them on your bright notebook screen

“Go to sleep. You have to get enough sleep to function tomorrow as well” “I can’t afford to sleep now. Sleep can wait, the deadline for my essay won’t”

tries to get you to bed through various methods

first tries to make it less obvious and wants to make you jealous through your plushies

“Then Mr. Snowman will have to cuddle with me today..” “Mhmmm”

But quickly realizes that it doesn’t work and you don’t react to it

for his second try he sneaks up to you from behind and puts his hands on your waist, pressing a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear, whispering a tempting “Come to bed with me”

you try to stay strong though and ignore his attempt with the last endurance you have

the next time he comes up to your desk for his third attempt, he finds you asleep already, your face planted on the surface of your desk

he can’t hold back a chuckle and a fond glow is in his orbs as he gazes at your face; just looks at you for some minutes

carefully picks you up and carries you to bed, trying his hardest not to wake you up; whispers a “Good night, my angel” and gives your forehead a small kiss

tucks you to bed and will lay down beside you to watch you sleep

when you wake up the next morning you begin to panic because you weren’t able to pull the all-nighter you desperately needed to finish on time

“Breathe, Love. Don’t worry. You can do it, I know it”

“I look kinda like a Panda now with my dark circles, don’t I?” “Yeah…kinda. Maybe more like a raccoon”

when you are finally done with all of your exams and your essays, he will pat your head and smile proudly; “Good job, I knew you can do it”

with a relieved sigh you press a loving kiss on his lips

and now you can finally get revenge for the times he teased you

just the brain rot i have in my finals week. i am quite literally losing my marbles right now, so i needed some zayne fluff. did i write this instead of studying…maybe. i need this man so bad. actually working on a smut atm but since its been so long since i wrote one, it’s hard for me to get into the flow right now.

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne fanfic #zayne x you

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aheathen-conceivably · 2 months

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Part of Zelda loved the last few years of their lives. At its simplest, it reminded her of being in England again, of standing in the fields with her father and making every recipe from scratch with her mother. Life felt warmer here than it had in New Orleans, calmer and quieter and more akin to something she had envisioned for herself.

Of course there was pain as well, backbreaking constant pain and endless drudgery. Sometimes it reminded her of how much she liked standing in a crowded cafe or club and feeling everyone’s energy come together in one tumultuous surge. Compared to that, it often felt like she had only known two extremes in her life, and she had swung between the two without ever really finding herself in the middle.

Then there was the desperation, constantly turning and monitoring the soil, adding any and every shell or skin she could spare, and hauling countless buckets of water from the nearby stream. It was knowing that living or dying fell upon your back and the roof over everyone’s heads relied on your efforts. But in doing so it sometimes felt like a spirit overtook one, one that actually understood her purpose and called her Little Robin on even his darkest days.

Only recently the desperation had taken on a new tone, one independent of Gio’s debts or her child’s hunger. One that even her father wouldn’t have understood. It was her burden, and her burden alone, seen and shared by Antoine but really only felt by her. Because she could till this soil; she could monitor it and will the crops to grow as though through sheer willpower and knowledge alone. Only she couldn’t do the same for herself.

Because at least this seemingly barren soil was growing something. There was life and hope in it, fully grown plants and crops on the edge of being harvested. She had poured her soul into it, and it had responded in turn. She needed them to grow, not only for the reasons everyone else did, but because she couldn’t seem to grow anything within herself.

She was walking the fields, picking away dead leaves and checking under each one for bugs when she saw it: a sapphire glittering amidst the greenery in the ever-present sunshine. She reached forward slowly, moving each leaf aside hesitantly as though half expecting to look down and see yet another dashed hope that had existed only for a moment.

But then she bent down into the soil and it was real: a perfectly grown ear of corn. Untouched by bugs or drought or heat. She had done it. It had grown. In an inaudible whisper she called out to Gio across the farmyard. Realizing that he was probably preoccupied still trying to dig out their well she called out again, and again, until her amazed voice finally rose to an audible volume.

He rounded the fence, his eyes filled with apprehension that another bud had been eaten in the night or the leaves inexplicably wilting. Instead he saw Zelda standing there, an ear of corn in her hand and a smile on her face.

He immediately threw his shovel into the dirt and ran toward her, “We did it, Zelda! We really fucking did it!” For a moment he just held her in shared amazement, and Zelda could swear that he was going to cry. All of his emotions poured out onto her so that she could feel he had no way to contain his gratitude, until he picked her up and swung her amidst the tall verdant plants growing all around them, “Jesus Christ who am I kidding, you did it! This farm…it, I was nothing until you got here, until you made all this happen!”

Zelda let herself be swept off her feet, lost in his characteristically infectious joy. Because he didn’t know why she had worked so hard on these fields, or that she often walked the rows thinking of them in relation to herself. He only knew she had given him something, everything he seemed to dream of in that moment, and that together they had actually done it. They had made life grow from nothing.

Across the farmyard, Josephine watched them, and a small fire started in her heart. With a jolt she realized that this was what jealousy must feel like. She had never given a fuck about who Gio or any of her partners had danced or laughed or flirted with, so long as she knew and they didn’t use it against her when the time came. But it couldn’t be, not here, not now. Not her.

This was Zelda. Her best friend, her sister. They worked and lived there together day in and day out, but then he set her on the ground and her laughter rang out through the farmyard, and Josephine realized that it was her. It was the joy she and Gio shared over a goddamn ear of corn. One single ear of corn. It was as infuriating as all of life was here, because it didn’t feel like living at all. It felt like a constant game of survival that transformed your life into a series of meaningless tasks without purpose or delineation rather than something that was actually yours to live.

Because life here wasn’t simpler for Josephine the way it was for Zelda. There was nothing nostalgic or calming about it. No sound of her father’s voice to guide her through the pain or personal drive tying her to the constant, backbreaking work. She tried, every goddamn day she tried, just like she promised Giorgio and herself that she would; but it felt like the land itself was draining her soul bit by bit.

Yet here was Zelda, who seemed like some sort of old world fertility goddess standing amongst the plants she had grown from soil that wouldn’t yield for anyone else. For years, she had done nothing but give and give as she worked alongside Giorgio to make his damn dream come true, all the while thoughts of running away continued to plague Josephine in the night. Zelda had poured her soul into the desolate land to make it grow. Josephine dreamed of setting it on fire.

Jesus, she didn’t want to. She wanted to fall onto the orange sands of Strangerville and somehow sprout into the perfect farm wife too. That’s why she was jealous. She wanted to be that happy when a single goddamn ear of corn had grown, to share in the simple joy of the man she loved over something she couldn’t help but find infuriating. It seemed like he was happy because he had someone to share that joy with now, someone who could make his dreams come true and give him all of herself so totally. It made her think that maybe the problem was her; she had simply not given enough of herself to be happy. But she didn’t quite know how.

#1932 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Zelda darlington #Josephine Duplanchier #Giorgio Mistretta

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 4 months

Text

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 4: Little Lamb

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6K

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience}

As soon as you make it out of the city to a secluded spot, you fall to your knees brokenly and start to weep. Your body wracks painfully between your sobs, and your eyes burn as if they can’t shed the tears fast enough.

Of course, he had moved on from you and found someone else to entertain ... Ugh, even thinking the word sickened you to the very foundation of your essence.

Did I really expect any different?

Raphael’s words echo in your head, “The arousals of man will return to him.”

That had scarcely been the case. Except for the night you agreed to be his spawn, Astarion had barely laid a finger on you unless you specifically requested it, and you never did, knowing intimacy was complicated for him. Perhaps you duped yourself into believing that he just needed time, but you wonder if so easily agreeing to be his spawn had a role.

Or maybe he just prefers warm flesh. Now, he’s bedding that… that harlot!

Sitting on the hard ground, you bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. Resting your head on them, you let your eyes drift shut. You’re too exhausted to fight it anymore, and you let the misery wash over and consume you.

How many times will I have to endure losing him?

The sanguine hunger is gnawing at your insides like a rabid animal. Your empty stomach spasms so painfully it makes you retch dryly between scattered sobs. Every muscle, tendon and ligament in your body convulses, making your limbs jerk sporadically, begging for sustenance. You should hunt, but instead, you choose to wallow in your dismal self-pity.

When did I become this hollow shell?

You have never lived an easy life. You’re not born of wealth, nobility or with a silver spoon in your mouth. You lived a challenging life. You were not prone to pathetic displays of weakness such as this. You had the blazing fire of your draconic ancestors coursing through your veins, and you always defiantly faced any hardships that came your way, whether by diplomacy, persuasion, or, if all else failed, scorching them from the earth.

When you met Astarion on that beach, that dagger of his threatening to gut you, you had been so close to turning him into a charcoaled husk until your tadpole resonated with his dousing your flames.

Now look at me.

You’re not sure when it happened, but that raging vigour you had possessed had been snuffed out. What was left behind was a yawning void where your willpower to survive once resided.

The next time you look up, you can see daybreak threatening on the skyline. You consider letting the daylight consume whatever is left of you, but you remember Shadowheart’s promise to Astarion if you didn’t return home.

“I will kill you, Astarion, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

She would make good on her threat, even if it got her killed.

Which it surely would.

Your will to live may be dead and buried, but your concern for your friend’s lives is alive and well. The dejection that kept your body planted on the ground all night suddenly lifts its burden, and you take off in a sprint.

You enter the house quietly, hoping that Shadowheart is still asleep, but you find her pacing in the large living room, muttering to herself. She jumps at the creak of the door, the radiant glow of divine magic on her fingertips.

“I was almost out of my mind with worry!” She says, distress rampant in her voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait... what’s wrong?” Fury bursts into her eyes, “What did he do to you!?”

Your back slides down the rough wooden door, splinters catching on your robe as you just let yourself sink to the floor, “Nothing, I didn’t bring on myself.”

“Did he hurt you!?”

“No.”

Yes.

“You’re lying,” she knows you too well, “tell me the truth!”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

He broke me.

Her voice softens as she realizes tears have begun to spill out of your eyes, “Tell me what happened.”

“Another time. Can we... can we please drop it for now?”

You don’t think you could bear to speak any of it aloud, not right now.

Suspicion runs over her features, “Fine.”

You can see the anger in her eyes, her mouth set in a stern, grim line. Her heart is rattling around in her chest.

“Please do not go looking to start a fight with him.”

She huffs, “Why are you still protecting him? What has he done to earn such loyalty?”

“Astarion doesn’t need my protection or anyone else’s - not anymore.”

She folds her arms over her chest, “I’m sure he believes that.”

“Shadowheart, please.”

She sighs reluctantly, “Fine. How is your wound? Do you need more healing?”

“I will be alright. I heal fast.”

Or I should…

Your side still aches with a grievous burning that makes your eyes water.

An uneasy silence stretches out between you, “and the hunger?”

“Keep your distance.” It sounds more like a threat than it had in your head, and you wince at the severe intonation, “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

“I understand.”

You drag yourself off the floor, and your wound smarts in objection at your movement, “I think I’m going to go get some rest.”

“Good idea,” she brightens, “you look terribly pale.”

You smirk at her and make your way to your bedroom. Your trance does not come easily to you, and even when it does, you toss and turn as echoes of memories play out in your dreams.

You’re back in camp, curled up in your tent but unable to sleep. The city is close now, and your mind is troubled. Your draconic fire pulses and dances over your fingertips in a mesmerizing display. The glorious heat of your ancestors radiates from your skin. With nothing but your thoughts and control of the Weave, you will the flames higher, lower, brighter, dimmer, hotter, colder in a measured cycle.

“Neat trick. What other things can you do with that fire of yours?”

Astarion pulls back the flap to your tent. The reflection of your fire prancing along your fingertips highlights the vibrant cardinal red of his eyes.

“Can’t sleep?”

Relinquishing your hold on the weave, you let the flames sputter out, “No. Successful hunt?”

“Your necks may rest easy tonight if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Astarion, I didn’t mean-”

He chuckles low, “I’m just playing with you, my dear.”

He crouches down and takes your hand in his. His skin feels like ice compared to the feverish warmth your flame has left behind.

“Come, my love. Why don’t you join me tonight?”

"Join you? Where?”

“In my tent.”

You hesitate, “That’s not necessary.”

“Please?”

You eye him intensely, probing him, searching his body language, his expression, his eyes, for that well-practised, albeit false, veneer he wraps himself in.

“I’d really rather you disrobe me for real, beautiful. Come.”

Alarm bells blare in your head, “Astarion…”

“My sweet, sweet girl. Do I look uncomfortable to you?”

"No.”

It’s the truth; his expression is relaxed, and perhaps it’s part of the reason you feel so perturbed.

“I want you close tonight. Are you truly going to deny me the pleasantries of your fine company?”

You start to stand, and he rises from his crouched position with you. When you’re nearly on your feet, he gives your arm a quick tug, jolting you forward and off balance. You stumble and fall into him.

“You’re beautiful.”

His lips meet yours, gently at first, but the pace quickens to a ravenous frenzy as if he’s been starving and you’re the sustenance he needs to survive.

His mouth expertly parts yours, and you feel the groan rumble in his chest as his tongue explores, tasting you. Your body pushes into him further, and your arousal awakens in a visceral torrent.

When he breaks the kiss, you moan your displeasure with your eyes still closed, “Not fair.”

"Oh, darling. Don’t fret.” he leans close to your ear, “I’m not done with you just yet.”

Jolting awake, you nearly propel yourself out of your bed. You take deep breaths, even though you don’t need them. Your dead body seemingly has a hard time letting go of the comforts of life. The air fills your lungs with a whistle as the rigour battles with your panicked breathing.

He was so gentle, so sweet, and I ruined him.

With a groan, you lay back down. Holding up your hand, you stare at your unnaturally pallid skin, and you mourn the colour your complexion once held. Desperate to feel the comfort of something familiar, something tangible that you can control, you take hold of the weave. Blazing fire springs into life from your palm born of your draconic ancestry. You let the flame frolic and lick climbing up your hand, over your fingertips and back in a captivating parade.

This is something no one can take from me, not even him.

You register frantic pacing coming from the floor below, and you can faintly hear the elevated pulse of a pounding heart. You douse the fire still burning hot in your palm and relinquish your hold on the weave. Sitting up, the wound afflicting your side bellows in radiating bursts, but you push the sensation away and focus on the restless stomping below.

Something is wrong.

You stumble out of bed, momentarily confused by the clumsy feeling of your limbs.

I’m not graceful by any means, but tripping over myself getting out of bed, that’s new.

You don’t have time to consider it further, so you let it go. You scramble into your clothing and walk to the top landing of the staircase.

“Shadowheart? Are you okay?” You call down to her in a raised, concerned voice.

Even from this distance, you’re already fighting your bloodlust; your body tenses, shakes and trembles, waging warfare on your restraint. Squeezing your eyes shut, you pray to any God that will listen to grant you strength.

“No. I need to speak with you urgently. Can you come down?”

No.

“Yes, but-”

She cuts you off, “I will keep my distance.”

“Get your weapon.”

She scoffs, “I trust you.”

Gods, she has no idea how good she smells.

“Please, Shadowheart. It… It's really bad today.”

“Fine, if you insist, but I’m not scared of you.”

You should be.

Your hunger is frantically digging its talons deeper and deeper into you. It feels like it’s ripping you apart from the inside out. Your mind whispers repulsive thoughts, and you can feel it's starting to take any of the control you had away, draining it out of you.

The pain. Gods, the pain.

You descend the stairs with shaky steps as your stomach once again starts to convulse and cramp sickeningly. Shadowheart smells like fear, and her heart beats so fast it sounds like a roaring thunder. You can hear her lungs expand and contract with her rapid breathing.

This is how Astarion always knew when I was upset even when I told him I was fine. He could hear it the whole damn time.

He had explained this to you, or tried to, on multiple occasions. Experiencing it for yourself was vastly different. Suddenly, all his weird, often poetic metaphors make perfect sense.

As you get to the bottom of the stairs, you keep your hand tightly grasped around the rail, giving yourself something to focus on. The wood complains under the pressure of your clenching hold.

Shadowheart is standing on the opposite side of the room. Her weapon is in her hand as she promised you. It gives you a sense of comfort.

“Are you okay, Shadowheart? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I received a letter from my parents. They have requested that I see them. It said it was an urgent matter.”

Shadowheart mother had fallen unwell some months ago, and she wasn’t recovering from whatever ailed her. You had tried to push Shadowheart to stay with her parents so she could help her mother, but she had refused.

“You need to go to them, Shadowheart.”

She nods, “I know, but I am not keen on leaving you.”

“I’ll survive. I am well equipped to care for myself, as you well know. Plus, if I remember correctly, a vampire spawn is difficult to kill.”

Her eyes narrow, “Not if Astarion comes for you.”

“Astarion has a new toy he’s busy playing with right now. I doubt he will give me a second thought.”

Shadowheart’s brows rise, “What? A new spawn?”

“No. She still possesses her life, so far anyway.”

Her voice softens, “Are you okay?”

She pities me.

“I will be. Go see your parents, Shadowheart. It sounds important. Please don’t let me keep you from living your life.”

“Yes, I think I should. I won’t be gone too long. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“I can’t promise that.” You shrug, “Trouble seems to find me.”

Shadowheart gives you her best disapproving glower.

“I will stay out of trouble. Go.”

Shadowheart starts briskly moving about the house, collecting her belongings. Her heart’s pace picks up further, pounding in her chest until it’s the only thing you can hear. Your grip intensifies on the wooden rail, and it splinters.

“I’ll be in my room. Travel safe, Shadowheart.”

Returning to your room, you stuff your head under all the pillows you can find, trying to drown out the raging thumping in your head. You dig your fingernails into your skin, scratching long weeping lacerations up your legs, giving yourself something to focus on in a desperate attempt to remain in control.

Astarion had mentioned that there were times he was so hungry he was all but robbed of speech and reason, and you wonder if you’re getting to that point.

Shadowheart knocks on your door, “I’m leaving now. I will be back as soon as I can.”

You groan at her closeness, “Go, Shadowheart. Don’t worry about me.”

You hear her bound down the stairs and out the door, leaving the house in a blissful silence. With her gone, the hysteria of your bloodlust fades just enough that your thoughts become your own again.

That was close. Too close.

Glimpsing at the window, you eye the boards nailed over it to protect you from the sun. You reach out and hover your hand over the rough wood. Slight warmth radiates off their surface, letting you know the sun still shines.

Your mind plays the memory of Astarion. His arm wrapped around you protectively as he held you firmly against him. The scarlet of his eyes alight while they gazed at you as his thumb swept across your cheek.

It’s a pleasant memory until - the mulberry-haired woman. Her sapphire eyes. Her triumphant smile. Her disgusting, sensual saunter.

You recoil, shake your head, and scold yourself for letting your thoughts run away with you. Moving away from the window, you stumble over your own feet again, your ankle rolling gruesomely to the side as you misstep.

It should alarm you. This new incoordination is bizarre, but you’re too fatigued to give it any pause. Energy feels like it’s being siphoned out of your body, debilitating you.

You drag yourself back into your bed and allow your trance to take you.

Your condition worsens steadily over the following days. Blood still percolates out of the wound on your side, with no signs of healing to be seen. Black streaks now stretch up your torso, down your side, and low into your thigh.

You’re disoriented and weak. Your vision is hazy, and reality feels like it’s ebbing and flowing like waves over a rough sea. Your legs feel feeble beneath you as you get up to check your bandages, which are once again saturated in blood.

I need help. Something is very wrong. Can I die from this? What ailments can kill a vampire spawn? There is so much I still don’t know.

But I know who does.

With shaky hands, you manage to re-bandage yourself sloppily and slide into a robe. You fiddle with the laces for far too long. You see double, triple, even quadruple, and your fingers grasp at nothing but air. It makes your eyes cross, and your head drum cruelly. Putting your boots on is challenging as your knees quack and you tumble to the floor repeatedly.

You should be terrified for your life, but you’re walking the fine line between delirium and complete incoherence, and you find it all rather… amusing. You giggle to yourself, grinning widely as you try and figure out which door handle is the corporeal one.

The walk to the Crimson Palace is long and arduous. You can barely pick up your feet, embarrassingly tripping over yourself repeatedly and falling to your hands and knees in the streets. Thankfully, there are few people out as most would be packed into the various taverns found in the city. Those who are around to witness your uncoordinated lumbering laugh at your ineptitude for walking.

They think I’m drunk.

The thought makes you giggle.

Rounding a corner, you prop yourself up on the wall for a second to catch your breath, only to laugh to yourself at such a silly notion. You don’t need to breathe anymore.

I’m dead.

More giggles.

Wait, where was I going?

You glance up and vaguely make out the shape of the Crimson Palace bathed in the darkness of a cloudy night, triggering your fading memory.

Oh, yes, to see my master, Lord Astartion.

You giggle again, rolling your eyes at the factitious thought. It sends your vision whirling, and you groan.

You look up at the Crimson Palace while you struggle to force your failing body to continue moving forward.

I wish I had reduced that place to nothing but a pile of rubble when I had the chance.

Through the murky darkness, a voice calls out, “It’s so nice to see you again.”

You know this voice, but you can’t seem to place it, and your brain makes sluggish attempts to connect that familiar tone with a memory. You have trouble getting your thoughts to form coherently.

You squint your eyes to peer through the fog clouding your vision and catch the colour of mulberry.

It’s her.

“Ugh. Go. Away.”

Not her. Anyone but her.

She blocks your path.

“You don’t look so good, sugar.” She says in that upbeat, harmonious tone that makes you want to puke.

I should kill her.

A sinister smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you try to stifle the feverish giggle erupting from your mouth. In the diminished and very nearly incoherent state you’re in, she would be more likely to kill you, but alas, it was a lovely fantasy.

You don’t bother dignifying her with a response and clumsily try to dodge around her.

“I can’t help but notice you appear to be walking towards the Crimson Palace. Are you going to see Astarion?” she pauses, “I’m not sure he will be up for visitors. We have been having a lot of fun every night. He is quite generous, but you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

No. No. No. No. No. No.

“Sweet thing, you do know what I mean by fun, right? Or would you like me to spell it out for you?”

Keep walking... just keep moving forward.

“Sex, sweetness. I mean sex.”

Despite your deranged state, your heart still breaks, and a single tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek, thinking of him and her together.

“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it looks like you’ve had one too many already.”

Pure rage surges through your body, and in an instant, your palm ignites, and fire sways and oscillates over it.

“The only drink I would ever accept from you is your blood. Every. Last. Drop.”

You didn’t feed on the blood of thinking creatures, but you would exuberantly make an exception for this wretch.

You stand up straight, your fury parting the daze veiling your mind, allowing you to think lucidly for the first time in days.

You grin menacingly as you will the fire in your palm to balloon into an enormous glowing sphere, “Or I could just reduce you to an impotent pile of ash where you stand.”

The woman’s mouth drops open, and she watches the fire blazing on your palm, “Pardon me?”

“I’m sorry, sugar,” you mock her, “Do you need me to spell it out for you? I will kill you!” “Astarion will not be pleased if you kill his lover.”

Her emphasis on the word lover makes your stomach lurch, and you grit your teeth, your jaw clenching hard.

She’s trying to get under my skin, and it’s working.

A menacing laugh rises from your throat, and you fix an intimidating gaze on her, “Well, Astarion isn’t here to save you now, is he?”

Her confidence falters. The broad, toothy grin plastered on her delicate features dissolves under your dangerous glower. Her heartbeat accelerates, thrumming the chorus of a grand symphony in your ears. The smell of fear drifts laden in the chilled breeze.

To your immense dissatisfaction, she recovers her serenity quickly, and the beaming, albeit phoney, smile returns to her rosy lips.

She speaks to you pleasantly, as if you two were old friends, “I’m sure we will meet again soon.”

Gods, I can’t stand her.

It sounds reminiscent of a promise, and you pray it's not one.

“Surely, you should be in a better mood by then. Have a lovely night!”

The picturesque mulberry-haired woman swaggers off down the road, disappearing into the murky darkness of an alleyway. The fireball hovering above your palm burns out as your rage recedes. I should have eaten her.

The walkway to the palace door is long and meanders slightly uphill. The stupor clouding your mind surged forward as soon as your adrenaline fell, and you are once again in that dreamlike state. You hesitate at the door of the Crimson Palace.

This is a bad idea.

You have escaped him twice already. Now, here you are, willingly coming back to ask for his help.

He would probably slam the door in your face on the spot at best or throw you into the kennels at worst. The wound in your side aches maddeningly, reminding you of the reason you’re standing here in the first place.

Not possessing enough coordination to knock in the traditional sense, you slam the palm of your hand as hard as you can against the ornate door. It makes your fingers croon with a sweet sting. Quiet minutes tick by with no answer or sound of movement from inside.

Of fucking course.

You sag into the door dejectedly, closing your heavy eyes with a dismal sigh.

I am so tired.

The hefty door swings open abruptly, and you don’t have time to steady yourself. Without the counterbalance to keep you upright, you nosedive forward.

Astarion’s arms quickly slip under yours, halting your fall, “Little love, you simply must stop falling for me like this.”

He sets you back on your feet, keeping an arm out to steady you, but you push it away, still irritated by your exchange with that horrible woman.

Not bothering to wait for an invitation, you stagger weakly into the palace.

His eyebrow cocks at your awkward lumbering, “Do come in.”

“I hate her.”

“Who would you be referring to, my dear?”

“That... that fucking trollop!” You say spitefully.

The dim room seems to undulate around you, and your words are slurred, “I’m going to eat her one day.”

His eyebrows rise in a vexingly handsome expression, “Well, now I am intrigued. Do tell me who you are talking about?”

Jealous anger slithers hot through your veins, “Your.... your purpled-haired hussy!”

A wide grin crosses his face, “I see. I knew you were jealous but murderous?” He chuckles, “I’m impressed.”

His forehead furrows slightly, and he cocks his head, “although, you don’t look entirely yourself.”

“Something is wrong with me.”

"Now that, my treasure, is something we can agree on.”

Rolling your eyes, you continue, “I need help.”

“Petitioning me for help, are you? Cute.”

You huff at him, exacerbated, “You know what? This was a bad idea. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

You start towards the door, stumbling awkwardly.

“Wait.”

His hand reaches out and tenderly encircles your forearm, steadying you. Your eyes drift to his. Is that concern you see reflected in those deep crimson irises?

I must be truly delirious. "What's wrong?”

“The wound from the stake isn’t healing.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Show me.”

Your fingers fumble with the lace ties of your robe in uncoordinated rigour. Your vision sways, rocking like trees in a blustery wind. Cursing under your breath, you squint, trying to focus.

Astarion steps forward, coming close enough that you can finally see him clearly. He’s shirtless, and his trousers are untied at the front.

Good Gods…

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

The words spill out of your mouth dreamily, and you giggle at how free you feel. You’re no longer shackled by the fear or sadness that has consumed you and hollowed you out. You feel unencumbered, a great weight lifted from your shoulder.

“Yes, I think you have mentioned it a time or two, but please, do feel free to tell me again.”

You stop squinting and fumbling with the laces on your robe to look up at him doe-eyed, “You’re beautiful.”

“You are in quite the state, aren’t you?”

His hands brush yours away, and he starts to deftly untie the laces.

“Hey… Rude.” You stick your tongue out at him childishly.

Losing your balance, your hand finds the smooth skin of his shoulder to stabilize yourself. His body stills under your touch, muscles tense.

A sharp pang of guilt slides down your throat, “Sorry.”

You withdraw your hand. He catches it and places it back on his shoulder before undoing the remaining laces holding your robe.

Astarion gently slips your robe over your shoulders and lets it fall to the ground around your feet, leaving you in your underclothes. He eyes the blood-soaked bandages wrapped carelessly around your abdomen intently.

“May I?” he asks, pointing to the sodden dressing, “I need to examine it.”

“I can do it."

He scoffs, “My dear, you can barely stand. How about you just focus on keeping that pretty little face off my floor.”

You scoff back, imitating him, but nod your consent, “I hate her.”

“Yes,” he laughs lightheartedly, “we have established that.”

“Do you love her?”

The question erupts from your lips before you have time to stop yourself.

Do I even want to know?

The question makes him flounder as if he had physically tripped on your boldness, “Am I capable of love?”

“I don’t know. Are you? Loving your reflection doesn’t count.”

He smirks, “Hold onto me.”

“What?”

“Little love, you are not wearing these grimy boots in my house. They need to come off.”

“I’ll do it.”

“My dear, we’ve been through this. For once, will you just listen to me?” Astarion kneels before you, one knee on the floor, “Are you ready?”

You tentatively reach out and put both hands on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. Astarion lifts your weak, trembling leg and starts slipping off your boots.

“What are these?”

You glance down at your legs, where your fingernails ripped long, jagged cuts into them to fight your revolting temptations.

“They’re nothing."

Astarion looks at them studiously, running his fingers over the irregular long gouge. He leans in closer, and you try to pull back, but he grabs your leg and holds it firmly in place while giving you a stern look.

When you stop fighting, he leans in and places gentle kisses on those long wounds, slowly trailing them up toward the apex of your thighs, making you squirm. He stops short.

Moving onto the next leg, he repeats the process of sliding your boot off while you use his body to steady yourself and then trailing those long cuts with gentle kisses, once again stopping short.

You can’t help yourself, and you groan loudly.

Once Astarion has stripped your boots from your feet, he slowly rises to his full height so he doesn't throw you off balance since his body is the only thing keeping you on your feet.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He motions for you to follow him deeper into the palace, but your legs buckle under you. Before you can fall again, his arm hooks under your knees and the other cradles your back as he sweeps you off your feet effortlessly.

You struggle weakly, “I can walk.”

“Truly? Can you?”

He looks at you with an obvious imitation of melodramatic astonishment, and a laugh rumbles in his throat.

He’s having too much fun at my expense.

Astarion walks with an agile grace as he cradles you in his arms and carries you through the familiar dark halls you called home for a short while. The floor barely creaks, and his footsteps are all but silent.

Not fair.

Candlelight bathes the bedroom in a saffron-coloured warmth. The room smells pleasantly like finely aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary. It smells of him, and that comfortable recognition envelopes you. Astarion eases you down on the fine, silk bed cover, taking care not to jostle you about. Grabbing a clean cloth, he wets it in the washbasin perched on a carved table. He crouches smoothly, positioning himself between your legs.

Oh…

Memories flash across your vision of him in the forest clearing, him in that bedroom the night he turned you, and heat pools between your legs. A needy groan escapes your lips as you tear your eyes off of him meekly. If your heart could beat, it would be battering against your ribs as if it were trying to rip itself from your bosom. A sensual chuckle rattles deep in his chest, fully aware of what he’s doing.

Oh no.

You are starved for physical affection, having spent the last year distanced from your friends or locked away entirely. They had tried to comfort you, of course, but you couldn’t be trusted to get too close to anyone with a heartbeat. Except for a few brief uncomfortable hugs or reassuring squeezes of your hand, you haven’t been touched since before you fled this place. You craved it like the desert sands crave moisture during a drought.

You struggle to push yourself further up the bed and away from him. You squeeze your legs together, trying to shut him out. You feel too vulnerable, almost stripped bare with your legs spread, and entirely too aroused, given the predicament you currently find yourself in.

His hand grips your thigh tenderly but firmly, keeping it to the side and pinning you in your place.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, “hold still.”

You groan loudly and cover your face with your hands, surrendering to him.

“Good girl.”

With light, gentle strokes, he starts wiping the smeared blood from your midsection. He looks at the injury curiously, cocking his eyebrow. Blood continues to weep gradually from it, and the black streaking spreads out like inky tendrils across your ghostly skin. He pushes his fingers on the wound, coating them in your blood.

You wince at the uncomfortable pressure, “What are you doing?”

His crimson eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes you hold your breath, yet another reflexive habit. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he sucks on them while holding your gaze. It’s oddly sensual until his face contorts into a grimace. He spits your blood out into the cloth.

Well, that can’t be good, he would never waste blood.

“Poison. You need an antidote and rest, pet.”

“Don’t call me pet.”

“I’ll call you whatever I like.” He hisses.

“Why do you do this?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pouts sarcastically.

“Don’t you? You swing from one extreme to the next so fast I can hardly keep up. You’re nice one moment, and treating me like a belonging the next.”

He frowns, “You do belong to me. I made sure of it.”

He’s trying to get under my skin.

“Yes, you did. Are you proud of yourself, love?”

“Indeed I am.”

You grumble, “Pompous prick.”

He laughs at you, “Sassy tonight, aren’t we?”

"You didn’t answer my question.”

A malevolent smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, reaching his eyes, “I do rather enjoy you like this, you know.”

You swallow hard, “Like what?”

“Nearly naked, laid out before me on my bed, and entirely at my mercy.”

Levelling a glowering look at him, “You don’t scare me.”

If nothing else, your incapacitated mental state gives you courage, or perhaps you are just too far gone to feel fear. Either way, speaking your mind feels magnificent. You have muzzled yourself too often around him, but the muzzle is off, and your fangs are bared - sort of speak.

“Oh?” he pouts innocently, “I suppose I will have to try harder then, won’t I?”

“I suppose you will if that’s what gets you going.”

“I would be happy to demonstrate what gets me going.”

Astarion rises slowly from his crouched position between your legs. His hand holding your thigh starts to glide leisurely up your body, delicately skimming over every curve. You try to push him away, but it’s like a feather trying to push over a brick wall.

His knee nudges your legs further apart, and he pushes his hips into you, anchoring you between him and the bed. The friction is serene, sending waves of need rocketing through you. You would be lying if you said his proximity was entirely unwelcome.

“When did you eat last?” he whispers as his lips ghost over yours.

What a weird question.

“Why? What difference does it make?” You squirm under him, the pressure of his body overwhelming your senses.

“I have my reasons, darling.”

Your eyebrow pulls down slightly in confusion, “Which are?”

“None of your concern.” He says curtly, “When did you eat last? I won’t ask again.”

Do I dare?

Yes.

Yes, I think I dare.

You meet his gaze, dead on, challenging him, “None of your concern.”

Astarion scowls harshly, “Shall I force you to tell me, my sweet, sweet spawn?”

You scoff, “Oh, spare me the bullshit, Astarion.” You roll your eyes at him, but it makes your stomach lurch. You fight the wave of nausea and continue, “If you’re going to force me, then just do it already. I’m beyond sick of your threats.”

He pushes himself back abruptly, ending the decadent feast of friction you have been savouring. He paces back and forth menacingly in front of you. A terrifying expression is painted across his face.

Did I push him too far this time?

Astarion strides over to a cabinet and flings the door open, nearly pulling the door straight off, grabs a bottle and comes back to you. He looks at you with animosity brewing in those cold red eyes.

“Drink this and get out.”

He throws the bottle on the bed beside you.

You finger it hesitantly, “What is it?”

“Antidote. Drink it and leave.”

“Fine.”

Astarion leaves the room and fades into the dark hallway. You swig down the bottle of antidote as fast as you can, trying to get the least amount of it on your tongue as possible. The taste still makes you want to throw up.

It works fast, and you can already see the constant dripping of blood from the wound start slowing, and the black streaks start to recede slowly. The haze clouding your mind dissipates, and you are once again lucid... mostly.

You manage to get yourself up off the bed, but your limbs are still weak, trembling and not complying with the orders you’re giving them.

Astarion returns with your robe, chucking it to the floor at your feet. By the time you manage to get your boots on and out the door, you realize that dawn is not far off.

I don’t have enough time to get back.

“Astarion, dawn is soon. I’ll-”

He cuts you off, “Burn, yes. I am aware.”

I pushed him too far.

His brows pull down, low in a sinister glare, “Run, little lamb.”

Big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read/follow/like/reblog/comment/etc -- I hope you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it :)

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I have another with Spawn Astarion x Tav called -Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

#bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin

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star-girl69 · 1 year

Note

i live reader’s relationship with the children 😭 i can see her being hogged by her kids all day, surrounded and the kids hiss and claw at their parents when they come too close like ?! ya got your time with our mama now its mama and kids bonding time

My Heart Never Knows

(Headcannons)

y/n getting hogged by all of her babies

a/n: i love mama y/n and her babies 😭

it’s so funny because jake genuinely gets so offended

“that is literally my mate can you MOVE boy”

*meanwhile lo’ak is just actually passed out on top of you*

jake will totally get annoyed and push him off while you’re screaming

“DONT HURT MY BABY”

jake lying on top of you instead

lo’ak being in absolute shock

“MAMA YOU JUST GONNA LET THIS HAPPEN?”

“baby he’s like 8 feet tall what do you want me to do”

tuk coming over and literally kicking jake bc she wants you

“DADDY MOVE”

“NO?”

lo’ak cheering her on

jake eventually getting off of you when neytiri walks in and kicks his head HARD

“do you seriously want to murder our mate?”

“YEAH, DAD, YOURE LITERALLY KILLING HER”

jake is so done tbh

neteyam isn’t as clingy but he would probably love talking to you

just being silently so annoyed when jake or neytiri interrupts the two of you

you being like “can i please have a singular conversation with my baby”

neteyam wanted to say something but he would never disrespect his parents like that

since you were born metkayina you can stay underwater for a lot longer than the rest of the family

and because kiri is kiri and “pandora jesus” she can also stay underwater for a long time

so like imagine this the two of you just chilling at the bottom of the sea floor collecting some shells or some plants to eat

and also this is like a little family beach outing

jake being like “WHERE DID THEY GO”

neytiri being like “oh they’re fine, they’re just at the bottom-”

*jake diving in before she can even say one word*

neytiri is also just so done

jake being like “what are you guys doing…”

the two of you finally surfacing and jake is just

“you guys are so interesting”

kiri being appalled “did you just insult my mama???”

cue everyone piling on top of jake until he apologizes

neytiri is having the time of her life laughing her ass off with you

basically jake just wants to spend some time with his mate and quickly realizes that will never happen again

neytiri accepted it long ago (date nights are weekly and mandatory so she doesn’t go insane without you)

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

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cypherdecypher · 11 months

Text

Animal of the Day!

Burmese Peacock Softshell (Nilssonia formosa)

(Photo by Joel Sartore)

Conservation Status- Critically Endangered

Habitat- Southeastern Asia; India; Southern China

Size (Weight/Length)- 60 cm

Diet- Insects; Fish eggs; Fish; Small amphibians; Aquatic plants

Cool Facts- Not only does the Burmese peacock softshell turtle look like a wet pile of mud but its face is one for the history books. Instead of pulling its head back into its shell like other species of turtle, these softshells can retract its head into the skin rolls of its neck in a frankly terrifying display. Their long nose allows the majority of the Burmese peacock softshell to stay underwater while taking a breath with only their snoot poking out. Very little is known about these turtles due to their rarity. They are mostly threatened by overhunting for their meat and water pollution from gold mining along river banks.

Rating- 14/10 (Soft shell = speedy boy.)

#animal of the day #animals #turtles #reptiles #tuesday #june 13 #burmese peacock softshell #softshell turtle #biology #science #conservation #the more you know

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kai-malewife · 1 year

Text

A Lazy Saturday Morning

Alhaitham x gender neutral!reader

Summary: There is no better place to wake up than in his arms. Shrouded in his scent, intoxicated by his warmth, nothing feels more like home than your lover, Alhaitham.

Warnings: None, just sickingly sweet morning fluff with our favorite scribe <3

Cross-Posted on Ao3 @ Zhonglis_cake_saves_lifes

Link here!

Not too proud of this fic, might edit it later!

It is to the sound of lively twittering that you rouse from your peaceful slumber, stirred to consciousness by the carefree melody of the early morning birds. The sun had already risen, as warm, golden rays filter through the blinds, casting streaks of light across the room and onto your lover.

Alhaitham, sprawled out next to you on the bed, winces faintly in response to the fierce gleam prompting him to awake in turn. His hold on your waist tightens and he buries his nose in your neck, breathing in your scent in a feeble attempt to cling onto any last remnants of sleep.

‘’Mornin’.’’ Your hand glides through his silver locks, voice permeated with drowsiness.

It elicits a mellow hum from him, and before long, quiet snores fill the room once more, calm and steady.

You simply cannot resist marveling at the serene expression on his countenance; his typically puckered brows now relaxed, mouth slightly ajar, and porcelain skin tinted in the enchanting morning glow.

The hand which was previously stroking his hair leisurely trails down, its thumb and forefinger now delicately tracing the curve of his face, flesh smooth beneath deft fingertips. The vision bearer quivers briefly at the touch, nevertheless he does not withdraw from it.

For such a prominent figure in the Akademiya, Alhaitham was by no means a morning person. On the surface, one might expect him to be an early riser, up by the first glimmer of dawn to make the most out of his day, given that he valued his precious time above all else. Truth be told, however, reality was otherwise.

All those lazy mornings spent in one another's embrace spoke for themselves; laced with loving pecks pressed on your temple and tender, lingering caresses that never failed to set your skin ablaze, occasionally resulting in either of you almost turning up late for work.

Minutes pass with the Scribe snuggled up to you, chest expanding and contracting against your own at a regular pace. But who can blame him? It's Saturday morning, and there's nothing scheduled for the day.

While you wish to loll in the comfort of his muscular arms for a little longer, surely any sign of fatigue has already worn off, and merely lying here, wide awake, was growing rather irksome. Instead, you opt to roll out of bed and get started on breakfast, hoping to greet your beloved with a cup of steaming hot coffee once he awakens.

You struggle to extricate yourself as silently as humanly possible from the iron grasp enclosing you, eventually succeeding only after strenuous exertion. Yet, much to your surprise, no sooner do you set foot on the floor than something pulls you back onto the cushy mattress.

‘’Mm… Don’t go…’’ Alhaitham splays out on top of you, allowing his weight to press against your body, effectively restricting your movements as he grumbles in the shell of your ear, still half asleep.

This scenario was hardly foreign to you, having occurred countless times in the past. A wry smile tugs at your lips as you find yourself engulfed in the warmth of your partner.

‘’Haitham baby, you’re heavy.’’

‘’I know.’’

It earns him a meek jab on the shoulder, which in turn draws an amused chuckle from him, one that you feel reverberating in his chest along with yours. You heave a defeated sigh, like you always do, and yield to your fate; ensnared in his affectionate grip until he finally decrees that It’s time for his daily caffeine fix.

‘’You’re unbelievable.’’

‘’Love you too, honey.’’

And perhaps this is not so bad after all.

Azur irises lock onto yours as you plant a final, chaste kiss on his forehead. And so, lulled by the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, an unexpected weariness resurfaces, gradually carrying you back to the land of dreams together with the one you love…

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham

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musings-and-overanalyses · 7 months

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Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind: Why This is My Favourite Ghibli Movie

CW: Major high-school English teacher vibes ahead. Proceed at your own risk.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind is a story of the titular character Nausicaä and her being a bridge between the world of humans and nature to bring peace, thus fulfilling an ancient prophecy.

Nausicaa is the princess of the Valley of the Wind. The film begins with her walking and exploring the Sea of Decay, an area with toxic air, plants and fungal spores. She collects some spores and finds the hard molten shell of an Ohmu (gigantic blue-blooded trilobite-looking creatures), which her people use to make weapons and tools. As the name suggests, the Valley of the Wind is a civilisation that depends on and bases their culture around wind, which one can see through an abundance of windmills and gliders, including the one that Nausicaä rides. They are shown to be peaceful people who do not interfere with the politics of the warring human kingdoms or disturb nature. Nausicaä in particular is shown to have a special gift with animals—from calming Ohmus to having a pet fox-squirrel. As the existence of the kingdom depends on the sea wind that shields them from the effects of the sea of decay, there is a general reverence towards nature and its other members such as the Ohmus, that are often referred to with honorifics.

This was an element I liked: the symbolism goes deep in this film; for example, with the nature of wind—it being the very breath necessary for life is contrasted with its other face, through toxic spores in the sea of decay capable of killing anyone who inhales it.

It is revealed that humans had built The Giant Men, weapons so dangerous—not unlike our atomic bombs as shown through the characteristic mushroom cloud—that the destruction caused by the war had unleashed the fury of the Ohmus, an otherwise gentle species. They wiped out entire civilisations and where they died, the Sea of Decay grew on their decomposing corpses, showing how all life is interconnected and that even in death the rage of the Ohmus, and through them the rage of nature, wouldn't subside. It is then that the viewers find out that this is not some far-off planet, but a post-apocalyptic future on earth.

New species of plants and fungi made the Sea of Decay their habitat—nature and life always find a way. It is implied that the humans lost the war referred to as the Seven days of Fire, but the truth is that it is not a war that can ever be won. Even if you win the war against nature you lose. As the story progresses, we see that the plants and fungi that Nausicaä collected from the Sea of Decay are actually trying to purify the soil and water—nature holds no grudges but only seeks balance.

The seventh of the Giant Men, a sentient atomic bomb if you will, apparently hid underground for a thousand years until the kingdom of Pejite found it for use against their enemy, the Tolmekians. They both remain oblivious to the sheer destruction that can be caused by this Giant Man and they don't care either. Despite the balance between humans and nature being a delicate one, instead of trying to rebuild together, they justify to themselves that the war is necessary for self-preservation and to put humans back on top of the food chain.

In their hubris, the Tolmekians and their princess Kushana believe that with the help of their superweapon they can destroy the Sea of Decay despite knowing that it will trigger the wrath of the Ohmus. The Giant Man however is not complete and hence, though the devastation is great, the final giant man dies and all that is remains to be done is to calm the wrath of the Ohmus.

Nausicaä saves an Ohmu child who was injured by Tolmekian soldiers to lure the Ohmus into a war. She saves the baby Ohmu and sacrifices her own life to calm the sea of maddened Ohmus. The now-calm Ohmu then revive Nausicaä, symbolising the mystical healing power of nature and its ability to support and create life.

Nausicaä is an excellent protagonist, and how the trope of the chosen one is utilised is beautiful and full of symbolism. Right from the get-go, we see her being inquisitive and brave. She is willing to defend her people but not through violence. And it is made abundantly clear that her avoidance of violence is not due to any lack of strength; when she strikes down the soldiers who killed her father, rather than feeling any sense of pride (as one might expect from a character not used to strength), it sickens her. She shows understanding even towards Kushana, whose men took over her kingdom. She sincerely loves and respects animals and plants.

There was a prophecy among the people of the valley of wind that a person clad in blue over golden fields will save their kingdom and bring peace. And towards the end of the film, Nausicaä's clothes becoming blue with the blood of the baby Ohmu she saved and the golden fields being the tendrils of the Ohmus healing her is poetic to say the least.

In addition to a good female protagonist, we also get a powerful female antagonist in Kushana, who starts out as a one-note expansionist ruler, but it is revealed that she lost her limbs and got severely maimed by the sea of decay, motivating her to destroy it once and for all. Proud and arrogant, sure, but she has a motive beyond just wanting power and possesses some form of a moral code. In another story she could be the protagonist bravely defending humanity against the evil, alien-esque trilobites and spores.

It was a unique and meaningful choice on Miyazaki's part to symbolise nature through the Ohmus—alien-looking giant insects—instead of something cute and fluffy. Oftentimes humans care more about the conservation of animals that they find cute (pandas over, say, Panamanian golden frogs), but an animal doesn't have to appeal to human aesthetics to be worth conserving.

Absolutely not to be missed is the breathtaking soundtrack by Hisaishi. There are symphonies, techno music, sitar-like instruments and a child's humming, all elevating every scene to give a moving experience.

Ultimately it is an ambitious story that aims to deal with themes of coexisting with nature, the futility and dangers of war, and of how innocent children who should live carefree lives are dragged into it and made heroes. This film is often categorised as falling into the genre of Solarpunk: a literary and artistic movement that centres around building a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community. Although this film does depict violence and wars, it ultimately shows a peaceful future is possible.

Truly a masterpiece. 9/10.

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lorre-verie · 1 year

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₊˚ʚ ᗢ. ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴏʀ ᴅᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

aka, the chapter where shit really goes down (i CANNOT emphasise this enough)

the unfortunate pair: ao’nung x fem! sully! reader

chapter summary: after experiencing so many issues with your health (and beating the crap out of Ao’nung), a relaxing visit to the spirit tree was exactly what you needed. Or is it? In the end, you and Ao’nung have a bit too much fun with each other, considering your shared hatred.

warnings: mentions of death, cussing (somewhere here), fighting, crying, idk, sad stuff

word count: 6k

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

“I think she’s waking up.”

“Y/N, please don’t die!!”

You slowly opened your eyes to the muffled voices that surrounded you. Your body jolted forward, head spinning, still feeling like you were trapped inside the deep blue.

“Woah woah woah, slow down, tiger.”

You felt a pair of hands steady you by your shoulders; your dad.

A gentle hand rested on your back; your mother.

You could hear tiny sniffles as you tried to make sense of what was going around you; Tuk.

The world was becoming more comprehensible with each breath you took, so you focused on that. Chilly hands shaking, you placed them on your face to wake yourself up, fingers delicately massaging your eyelids.

“That’s it, princess, come back to us.” your father half-whispered, his warm hands still planted firmly on your shoulders like if he let you go, you’d start levitating.

You blinked a few times, looking at your entire family staring at you in a rather spacious tent. You were laying in a hammock. The strong scent of herbs wafted in the air, you could almost taste them on your tongue. It seemed that you were in the metkayina’s healer tent.

You heard Kiri’s voice somewhere behind you, “Do you need anything?” her words echoed in your brain.

You opened your mouth, rubbing your temples. “He..hejolum,” you managed to utter, “please.”

note: hejolum is a concoction I completely made up and used for curing dizziness and nausea.

A slight pause ensued, but was followed shortly by the sounds of Kiri rummaging through the herbs to make the mixture.

“How are you feeling?” Neteyam asked softly. He was next to your mother, Lo’ak behind him. “I think I’m good,” you responded a little bit hesitantly.

“What happened?” your voice picked up its volume, you were finding the strength to move the rest of your body.

Neteyam and Lo’ak shared a look. Kiri walked up behind you with a warm bowl of a greenish liquid, tapping your chin for you to open it.

“I can drink that myse–” She disregarded your words and started pouring the liquid down your throat as you opened your mouth, and you nearly choked and spat it all out. When you were done, you gave her a sharp glare.

“That’s what you get for requesting hejolum instead of fyorl leaves.” she smiled innocently, putting the bowl away in a corner. You wondered if she even got permission from Ronal to start using her herbs, but you didn’t feel like bringing it up.

“Hejolum is more effective!” you scrunched your eyebrows together. “Yeah, but fyorl leaves work just as fine and I don’t have to work for it,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you had a near-death experience, or I’d be shoving those leaves down your throat right about now.”

Your ears perked up at ‘near death experience’. Memories of the purple shell and your struggle flashed through your mind like a really badly put-together slideshow. And then it dawned on you.

“Who brought me here?” you looked at Neteyam. His hesitancy to answer said it all.

You hopped off the hammock quickly, your body almost toppling over. “Hey, hey, easy! You still need to rest!” your father called out to you, but you were already sprinting away in search of Ao’nung.

Neytiri sighed next to him. As he watched you stumble over yourself, Jake couldn’t help but feel a small grin make its way up onto his face.

“She’s definitely her father’s daughter.” he smirked, earning a groan from your mother.

You didn’t know why, exactly, you were running. You just knew you wanted to thank him for saving your life.

It felt exhilarating to feel the wind in your hair and the sand beneath your toes, and you ran to where you usually saw Ao’nung hanging around, slowing your steps.

The broad leaves of the trees swayed with the soothing breeze, and you slipped in between the dense foliage, just so that in case you did find Ao’nung you could surprise him and make him yelp. A mischievous grin appeared on your face as you thought about it.

And then you heard voices. They were laughing, and you recognised his deep tone among the others. You quickly headed left, towards where you could hear them.

Weaving in between the trees, you finally spotted them. You hid behind a tree that was thicker and taller than the others, listening to their conversation. Just because.

“Wait, did you guys hear something?” a boy that had similar hair as Rotxo said in between their laughter.

“You’re being delusional.” Ao’nung chuckled, but his head turned to see if anyone was there. You didn’t show any signs of life, even going as far as to hold your breath.

“You’re the one being delusional. Do you like that girl now?” another friend of his commented. You assumed that he was talking about you, because everyone thought you two were interested in each other.

But still, you wanted to hear what he was going to say. His friends jeered at him, one of them mimicking kissy faces. You gagged at the thought.

“No way,” his tone was one of disgust. “I wouldn’t like that freak even if the fate of the world depended on it.”

You felt a sudden emptiness in your chest at those words.

“Their whole family is a bunch of freaks, I’m going to be honest.”

Your fingers curled inwards, your thumb pressed tightly against your palm. Your breathing became shallow as he went on.

“And did you see how temperamental the girl is? She’s a pain in the ass to deal with,” he laughed.

Your blood was boiling.

That fucking,

bitch.

Before you knew it, your arms and legs were moving on their own, hoisting you up on the tree. You made your way up on top of the tree, not caring for the way the bark dug into your palms, scratching up your hands, as his friends laughed at his remarks, his insults towards your siblings and you.

You crouched on top of the thick broad leaves, balancing yourself with your hands and your feet planted on the section where the branch separated into leaf.

One of his friends looked up and saw you, making eye contact. He backed up and ran without a word, making everyone else confused.

The other two looked up and Ao’nung continued to talk shit, even mocking you and your brother. “Ao’nung–” the rotxo-looking one gasped.

“And can you believe it? They’re such slow learners!”

“Ao’nung!” the other one hissed.

“And– What?” he looked confused, before looking up to see what his friends were looking at. His eyes widened in horror, he didn’t even have time to react as you pounced on him from above, knocking him down onto the dirt.

His pathetic little crew ran for the hills as you delivered a hard punch to his face, an absolutely deranged look in your eye. He fought to get you off his body but to no avail, and the only thing he could do was scream bloody murder.

You thrashed and clawed at his skin, the feeling of something wet flowing underneath your nose making you stop abruptly, and the distinct red of blood tinted your fingertips when you wiped on the spot above your lips.

The skxawng beneath you took the opportunity to try and push you off him, but you bit his arm in retaliation and he yelped in pain.

“You’re CRAZY–”

You were laying down on top of your sleeping bag in your marui, playing with your hair in between your fingers as your father paced around angrily. His heavy steps as he scolded you were the only thing you were even processing, too busy thinking about the million different methods you could use to murder that two faced donk–

“Are you even listening to me right now?” he groaned, the wrinkles on his forehead were more prominent now than ever.

“Mhm. You can’t attack people for no reason, why would you do that, I’m growing old and I can’t see the brave sacrifice and revolutionary importance of what my daughter did for her family,” you listed, mimicking his low gruff voice.

“Princess, you know I hate having these kinds of talks with you,” he sighed, crouching down next to you, and you let go of your hair, crossing your arms to look at him.

The small sound of something dropping to the ground came from outside, and you both turned your heads in the direction of the source. “Lo’ak! Don’t touch anything you aren’t supposed to!” he shouted.

More sounds of rummaging and a faint “damn it, how’s it he always knows?” followed, before silence returned.

You turned your heads back to each other.

“But it’s vital. You’re my daughter and I care about what you do. And anyway, I’m not the one you should be afraid of.” he raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. You frowned, realising what he was implying.

“Your mom is gonna freak out, I’m telling you. And I suppose that’s punishment enough for you.” he ruffled your hair with his hand, winking as if to say good luck, I can’t save you as he picked himself up, leaving through the flap of the marui.

Your mother stepped inside, and your ears flattened. You knew how she was when she was angered. You got up quickly as she walked to you.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her eyes searching your body for any sign of injuries. You shook your head no, ignoring the fact your palms had tiny cuts on them.

“Good. Now tell me why you did that to the boy.” she looked into your eyes patiently.

“He called our family freaks, he mocked 'Teyam's accent, he said Kiri’s nose looked weird, he said dad looks 30 years older than he actually is,” you went on, listing every scathing comment he said about your family, your mother’s face either morphing into one of outrage or shock after each thing.

“And…yeah that’s it I think.”

“So you beat him?”

“...yes.”

“How?”

“Well I climbed a tree, and then I jumped down from the tree onto him, knocking him down, then I punched his face and then bit his arm when he tried to slap me off–”

“He tried to slap you??” she fumed.

“Yeah, and then I kicked him in the crotch before Neteyam pushed me back,” you said with a matter-of-factly tone, shrugging. You left out the part where you got a random nosebleed in the middle of the fight. After all, it was probably because you were just so enraged by Ao’nung’s stupidity.

She angled her head upwards, not saying anything for a few moments. You heard a cough from outside.

“I am very disappointed in you,” she said loudly, but with the hint of a prideful smile on her face. Pulling you into a tight hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead, she whispered ‘play along’.

“You have disgraced our family and I hope that you understand the severity and the consequences of your actions, Y/N.” Her tone of voice was ruthless, but the look on her face said otherwise.

You put on your best fake pout, “But–”

“No buts.” she crossed her arms, still smirking.

“See, Y/N? What did I tell you?” your father sauntered in, playing the good cop once more. He walked up behind your mother, rubbing her back reassuringly. “Don’t worry, my love. You don’t have to get so mad at her, she’s only a child.”

Neytiri rolled her eyes lightheartedly when he wasn’t looking at her, causing you to desperately hold back a smile that was fighting its way to your face.

“But,” your father said pointedly, “you must go and apologise to the boy.”

“What?” you uncrossed your arms, staring wide-eyed with your mouth hanging open.

“You heard me. Go find him, and apologise. You can’t be on bad terms with the olo’eyktan’s son, especially when half of the village already hates us.” he stated, hands still around your mother’s shoulders.

You knew it was no use to fight him against it, so you let out an exaggerated sigh and slumped your way to find the dumbass. As you left, your mother turned to your father. “You were right.”

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

“She really is her father’s daughter,” she laughed, remembering when her mate beat up Tsu’tey (may he rest in Eywa’s arms). Jake looked down, slightly ashamed.

It wasn’t fair at all. Not the slightest bit. He was the one that spewed all that goddamned nonsense about your family, and you were the one that needed to apologise?

“He had it coming.” you huffed to no one but yourself, kicking the sand as you “tried” to find Ao’nung. (You were hoping you would just never catch sight of him.)

To your utter surprise, he was also slugging his way across the sand in the direction of your marui, with the exact same sour look on his face. Your eyes met, and you both begrudgingly moved within arm-length of each other.

His face was absolutely beaten, his right eye with a huge bruise around it. There was a bloody scratch on his lip and as you glanced down you noticed the marks of your teeth still near his wrist.

Damn, you really messed him up.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, looking down to not have to look at his face anymore. Cause if you did, you’d just look at his black eye the whole time.

He crossed his arms, sighing “I’m sorry as well. I got an earful about it from my mom and she said I deserved it.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line to avoid smiling, but he saw right through it. “Ha ha, very funny,” he rolled his eyes, continuing. “Your siblings are invited to visit our spirit tree tomorrow night. You can’t not go.”

“The spirit tree?” you half gasped half shouted.

“Yes, little forest imp. Do you need your ears checked? If so, I can bring my mother over to have a look.” he smirked, tilting his head to the left in the same manner he always did.

You wanted to hold him against his previous actions, but you thought it was better to forget about it. But if he ever did that shit again, he wouldn’t walk out of the fight with just a black eye.

You turned around, flipping him off as you walked away. “Bye, shit piñata!” A big smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you imagined his offended look. Oh, how stupid he would look.

The scrumptiously delicious smell of food drifted through the air as you arrived back home, and ducking under the flap of the marui you could see dinner was ready, and your family already sitting down in their places.

Neytiri smiled at you as you came in, gesturing for you to sit in your usual place next to Neteyam. It had only been around 3 weeks since you’d moved to Awa’atlu, but you were already addicted to the food.

“How’d it go?” your older twin asked. Lo’ak and Kiri looked at you expectantly, hoping you’d say you beat him up again.

“It went alright. We had a normal, civilised conversation.”

Kiri groaned and Lo’ak slapped one side of his face, Jake clicking his tongue for them to silence themselves.

Your mother nodded and took hold of your father's and Tuk's hands, signalling for everyone to join in prayer. As all hands interlocked with one another, Neytiri started,

“Great Mother Eywa, we offer our gratitude for the bountiful meal that we are about to share. As we partake in this meal, we ask for your continued blessings and protection for ourselves, our loved ones, and all living beings on this planet. May this food provide us with the strength and energy to carry out your will and serve our purpose in this life.”

As she finished, Lo’ak quickly rubbed his hands together and started scarfing down his food. Neteyam side-eyed him judgmentally, secretly wondering how they came from the same parents.

In between bites, you realised you almost forgot to tell everyone about the invitation. “Oh, guys.” you cleared your throat. “We’ve been invited to see the spirit tree tomorrow.” you looked towards your siblings, and Kiri’s eyes lit up immediately.

“At the cove of ancestors?” she said, mouth full of food. You nodded, and she slapped her palm over her mouth. “Hey that should be fun,” your dad smiled, nodding.

“Can I also go?” Tuk looked up at you with hopeful eyes.

“Of course, Tuk, all of us are going.”

The next day, you, your siblings, Tsireya and Rotxo set off on your little journey on your ilus to see the spirit tree. Ao’nung and you are doing what you do best; annoying the crap out of each other and everyone around you both.

Even while on an ilu, Ao’nung moved with a swagger like he was superior to everyone else, annoying the hell out of you. Snide remarks were exchanged constantly during the trip when you were above the water, which made everyone hold their breath for as long as they possibly could handle.

But despite his annoying habits, you found yourself strangely attracted to him. There was just something about his confidence that made your heart race the slightest bit faster when you were around him (and when he kept his mouth shut).

You weren’t sure if it was just the adrenaline from the constant bickering or if there was something…. more.

“You always have that dumb look in your eye like you think you’re invincible.” you scoffed, sending Ao’nung the next round of insults. He shook his head, looking down with a smile as Neteyam sighed behind you two, exhausted. “Honestly, it’s cute.”

His gaze flicked up to you almost immediately. You swore there was the smallest amount of purple dusted across his cheeks, causing you to double-take. But it was gone.

“But not as cute and positively pathetic as your feeble attempts to fight back,” a subtle, but unmistakable smile of satisfaction spread across your face as if you had reached the punch line of a stand-up comedy act.

“What can I say? You’re a challenge I can’t resist.”

At this, your head whipped towards his direction. But he dove beneath the water, leaving nothing but bubbles on the surface of the sea in his wake.

“Oh my god. That was disgusting,” Kiri practically sobbed behind you, Tuk agreeing as your hand clasped your mouth, unable to fully process what the frog had just said to you.

Can’t resist? Does that have some other meaning behind it? Why’d he have to SAY IT LIKE THAT? Was he teasing you on purpose? Holy jesus fuckballs.

Shaking it off, you dipped underneath the water with your ilu. There were rocks with plants growing on them suspended in the water, unmoving. You weaved in between them, ducking underneath a larger one and following Tsireya’s lead.

As you resurfaced, you audibly gasped at the beauty of the cove. “We are here,” she smiled warmly. “This is the cove of the ancestors. Our most sacred place.” she turned, watching as you and your siblings held your breaths in awe.

It was glorious, like nothing you’d ever seen before, much like the rest of Awa’atlu. A huge almost circular structure protruded out of the beautiful blue water, towering over you all.

“Eclipse is the best time of day to be here.” she stated as the light slowly dissipated, you needing to shield your eyes from the sight momentarily. The darkness engulfed the sky, leaving almost no light source except a giant brightly glowing flower-like plant underneath the water as you approached.

“This is it. This is the spirit tree,” Tsireya gestured, looking happily at Kiri’s overjoyed face. You gawked at the centre of the tree, which beamed with an intense glow.

The metkayinan siblings dived in first, the rest of you following shortly after. What seemed to be the glowing leaves of the spirit tree were absolutely huge, they were bigger than Ao’nung himself. The metkayinans gestured for you all to grab your queues and make the connection; but you stayed floating, watching the others make their bonds.

You felt a tap on your shoulder; it was Ao’nung. He motioned and pointed at your queue. You shook your head.

He rolled his eyes, using sign language. You deserve to experience it too.

You tilted your head. And you?

I’ve already experienced this a lot of times. Go, he insisted, not wanting to reveal the true reason for his actions, and you smiled to yourself, excited.

As you made your way to one of the huge fronds of the tree, he still couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that something horrible was going to happen.

He stayed put, watching everyone intently, subconsciously looking your way more often than the others.

All of a sudden, the spirit tree’s leaves started shaking, the lights flashing violently. Everyone was ripped out of their moment bonding with Eywa, all except you. The bioluminescent freckles all around your body blazed with light, your body trembling uncontrollably.

Ao’nung immediately pushed his way through the water to you, disconnecting your queue and pulling you up to the surface, Neteyam and the rest of your siblings close behind. His heart pounded vehemently against his chest, looking at your unconscious body as he pulled you onto his ilu.

“What’s happening??” Tuk cried, trying to reach for your hand. “Is she breathing?” Neteyam asked in a panic.

Ao’nung bent his ear to your nose, praying desperately that you were. He heard your staggered breaths, trying to gather the lost information in his brain of what his mother taught him.

“She’s having a seizure,” his eyes widened in recognition. “We need to get her to my mother, now,” he snarled, taking off on his ilu immediately.

Ronal could not find any spiritual fault with you or find a way to wake you up, as everything she tried had failed. Your father had no choice but to call Norm and Max all the way from the forest, and it took them an incredibly painstaking full night to arrive.

Your whole family waited anxiously, your father kneeling down next to you on the mat as Norm and Max did their thing. “Alright, I’m seeing from her brain scan that it was, in fact, a seizure. But the thing is,” he paused, looking at Jake.

“What? What is it?”

“That’s not the only thing we found that didn’t look right.” he looked at your peacefully sleeping body nervously.

“The state she’s in right now is some kind of defense mechanism from her body because she doesn’t have the energy to fully function right now. But this injection can help her.” he gestured towards the tiny needle that Max was administering into your veins.

“She’ll regain consciousness soon, but Jake, there’s something seriously wrong–” “Please, get to the point.” your father croaked, he hated seeing you this way.

“Defense mechanism? Wha… What kind of defense mechanism is that? Is that normal?” he asked, worry laced in his words.

“No. This is some kind of reaction from the mixed DNA she has. She’s part avatar and part na’vi, which means she’s part human as well. Somewhere in there.” Norm explained.

Your dad’s ears flattened as he heard that his own genes could be one of the reasons that you were suffering right now, and he looked at Norm expectantly, to keep going.

“I took a sample from her DNA, and it’s not looking good.”

He showed Jake the tablet he had in his hands. “See that?” he zoomed into one of the strands of your DNA, pulling the digital version of your gene out to inspect it. “That singular gene right there is one that increases the risk of cancer. Specifically, leukemia.”

“Leu- Leukemia??” Jake rubbed his hands against his face in distress. “She has leukemia?”

“..Not quite. The na’vi genes she has directly interfere with that, and if she does have leukemia, it somehow causes a mutation of some type of disease similar to cancer, running through the blood. But we need to ask her if she’s been having any symptoms.”

“If she’s been having symptoms, there’s an extremely high chance she has it. We can’t take a blood sample right now because she’s too weak. So, that’s our only option.”

“Oh.” Jake thought for a while, looking at the woven floor of the marui, trying to remember if you’d brought up any problems with your health. Besides the fever, he couldn’t think of anything that couldn’t be explained with some other reason.

“I think she’ll be fine, right? She hasn’t said anything about any issues,” he said, trying to calm down his own heart.

“Well, then there’s nothing to be worried about, pal.” Norm nodded, slapping Jake’s back and rubbing it reassuringly.

At that moment, your eyes fluttered open, and it felt like you’d been hit by an ikran flying at full speed. “She’s waking up,” Max said.

As the world came into focus (felt like deja vu), you were able to make out the blurred silhouettes of your father and Max and Norm’s avatar.

“Hey princess, how are you feeling?” Jake smiled, gently shoving Max away, looking down at you.

“Where..where am I?” you muttered, lifting up your hands and putting them in front of your face.

Outside the marui, Neteyam and Lo’ak were sitting in front of the entryway playing with the iPad Norm brought over for them, tasked to ward away trespassers.

“No, you skxawng, press ‘O’!” Neteyam hissed, trying to take the iPad from Lo’ak’s hands. “I’m trying, bro! Stop pulling! These weren’t made for na’vi fingers!” he retaliated, his grip on the device tight.

As they played tug-of-war with the considerably delicate piece of technology, Ao’nung walked to them. “Hey. Move, will you?” he crossed his arms, head tilted downwards. “Go away, shit piñata.” Lo’ak grumbled, trying to slap Neteyam’s grubby not-so-little hands away from their pride and joy.

Ao’nung exhaled sharply, raising a leg to try and get past the two fighting brothers. “Hey! No entry!” Neteyam stopped his leg with his hand, pushing it back onto the sand and successfully nabbing the iPad from Lo’ak. “Give that back, idiot!”

“Let me through.” Ao’nung insisted, practically pleading. On a normal occasion, Lo’ak would’ve made fun of him for how desperate he was being. But this was not a normal occasion. An iPad was within his grasp for the first time in weeks, and he wasn’t about to let his stinky older brother ruin it all.

“You aren’t family. Get lost!” Lo’ak grumbled, waving him away before putting Neteyam into a headlock.

He huffed, walking away. “Tch. Watch me become part of your family, skxawng.” he scowled, as Kiri and Tuk ran past him, intent on getting to the iPad.

Of course, he was referring to Lo’ak and his younger sister. No other implications.

You sipped the water from the cup Norm handed to you, sitting up straight. “Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions, alright?” Norm smiled, pulling out his tablet to write on. You nodded slowly.

“Have you been getting any fevers?”

One nod.

“Any unnatural fatigue?”

Two nods. You should have been able to handle the dive. It really wasn’t as deep as Ao’nung made it out to be.

“Lost any weight recently? Wait no, you guys don’t weigh yourselves here, sorry. Any nosebleeds?”

Three nods.

“Okay.” Norm’s gaze was starting to feel a bit unsettling. “Have you..coughed up blood? By any chance?”

You remembered the time you were training with Veyä. Four nods.

Your dad looked at you accusingly, wondering why on earth you didn’t say anything.

His eyes darted between you, Jake and the tablet nervously. “You said…she’s been paler than other na’vi ever since she was a kid?”

Jake’s heart sank deep into his chest. At first, he couldn't fully comprehend what his friend was implying. But as the reality set in, his lips parted in shock. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His little girl, his precious 15-year-old daughter, had been living with chronic leukemia for a decade without anyone noticing.

The weight of the realisation was absolutely soul-crushing. His mind raced back to all the times he had brushed off symptoms as normal childhood illnesses. The knowledge that he carried the gene that increased the risk of leukemia only added to his guilt.

As you looked at him puzzledly, not a clue as to what was going on, his whole world fell apart. He struggled to keep his composure as the pain tightened his throat. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to process what this meant for his family. The wonderfully bright and happy future that he had imagined for his eldest daughter was now uncertain.

Norm looked at the horror-stricken look on his friend’s face. He inhaled, and Max brought up Jake’s arm, pulling him up to bring him to the other corner of the marui, where you couldn’t hear them.

Norm gave you a sad smile. “Wait here, we’re going to talk about something for a bit.” Five nods.

“There’s- There’s gotta be treatment right?” Jake stuttered.

“I’m so sorry, Jake.” Norm sighed, looking down. There was nothing more he could do for you.

“What? There’s gotta be something you can do!”

“We aren’t sure if normal cancer treatment would even work. Her illness combined with the na’vi genes mixed into it- It would be super risky to even try anything. We don’t have the equipment or the knowledge, and this has never, ever happened before, Jake.”

Tears started welling up in his eyes. “So- She’s just going to die?” The silence they gave him as they looked at them with pity in their eyes, it broke him.

His little girl. His first daughter, his princess. He couldn’t protect you from this. How was he going to tell the rest of the family? What would be the reactions on their faces? Most importantly, what would you think?

You had a flame that blazed brightly in your soul just like his and your mothers, you were their family’s first troublemaker. For it to be extinguished so soon, for such a reason as a terminal illness,

it was unimaginable.

Upon your family hearing the news, it felt like the world was ending.

Truly.

Neteyam had his head in his hands, tears falling down to his lap.

Kiri had a hand over her mouth and nose to prevent her violent sobs from reaching anyone else’s ears.

Lo’ak looked at you in horror, still unable to believe what he’d just heard.

Tuk was already crying, hugging Jake tightly.

And your mother. She was a mess. Her pupils constricted, her hands tangled in her hair. She tried not to scream, the only thing coming out of her mouth was an ached, hoarse whisper.

And then there was you.

Head tilted down, looking at the floor, you sat curled up in a ball as Neteyam went to embrace you in a hug.

Your life was ending so soon. Just around one year left, they said.

But to your own surprise, you weren’t sad.

You were motivated.

That night, you were left alone in the marui to your own thoughts. You played your favourite happy song on the speakers that Norm graciously gifted you with before they left. You scribbled in na’vi a few things on a piece of paper.

Someone walked in through the flap, and you craned your head to see who it was. Ao’nung. “Hey. You alright? I was wondering where you were,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

(recommended time to play I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston, at just 4 clicks of volume (put your volume all the way down and then turn it up by pressing the button 4 times), think of it as background music, or u can put on any fun happy song suitable for dancing to)

You looked at him silently, putting the piece of paper away. “I noticed a distinct lack of spears to my throat today,” he continued.

Ah. He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know. “Why? Did you miss me?” you smirked, getting up from the floor and brushing yourself off. A lightbulb popped into your head, the song playing in the background giving you a gloriously fun idea.

“What is that? Sky people contraptions? Is that- supposed to be music??” Ao’nung looked behind you, bewildered. You snickered at his reaction to the alien technology and noise, kneeling down to the speakers and turning them up. (recommended time to turn the music up as much as u want)

You walked up to him and leaned in, dangerously close to Ao’nung, and gazed up at him with an intense yet playful look. Your eyes sparkled mischievously as you locked eyes.

With a sudden burst of confidence, you leaned even closer, noses almost touching. Your lips curved into a sly smile as you watched his ears turn the faintest purple.

You pulled away, but only slightly, maintaining a tantalisingly close distance. You looked up at him with a normal gaze, as if nothing had just happened, before uttering the words, "Dance with me."

“What?”

“Dance with me. Come on!” you pulled his arm into the center of the marui as the chorus began, and the energy of the song pumping through your veins and causing you to dance, uncaring for the horrified expression on his face.

Your movements were outlandish to him, he’d never seen anyone dance this way before. Not to mention the incredibly strange music.

But the way you danced happily without a care in the world amused him, and not in a condescending way. He felt himself smile as you twirled and lip-synced to the lyrics that the singer was saying.

He couldn’t understand it at all, but he felt his heart soar somewhat when you motioned for him to join you.

But he wasn’t a dancer. So he looked on as your arms lifted high above your head, your movements fluid and graceful as if you were in your own world, dancing with reckless abandon. You moved closer to him, lifting his arm up and twirling under it.

You only laughed as the song ended, looking at him. “Looks fun doesn’t it? You should join me.” you smiled at him. A genuine smile.

“I don’t dance.” he crossed his arms.

“Oh come on, I’ll teach you!”

“There’s really no need for that–”

You pulled his arms, hands interlocking with yours as the next song on your playlist (Love on Top - Beyoncé or anything u want) started up. “I love this song!” you looked at him. “Just feel the rhythm. Freestyle it. I won’t laugh, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, forest imp.” he rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t deny it, the song’s beat was irresistible.

“Move your feet, at least.” you beamed, your movement as your hands still held onto each other tightly affecting his own. He begrudgingly moved his feet to the beat of the song.

“That’s it, let loose!” you laughed, and it sounded like an angel’s call to him.

As it turns out, you weren’t so annoying when you were having fun.

As the night passed and Ao’nung left after you guys had a little dance competition, you crawled over to your sleeping bag, pulling out the lone piece of paper from underneath.

You crossed out the first thing that you listed.

Bucket List!

Dance with a partner to my favourite song.

Drink alcohol

Go on your first date

Have a sleepover with my friends and siblings

Karaoke night

Have my first kiss

Receive an oshalia flower

Important Fun Fact!

An oshalia flower is any flower that comes from the family Oshalia (made up by me, again), which is beautifully stunning and a commonly used way on Pandora to express interest in courting someone. Remember this for later.

YAYYY omg i finally finished this, it's the longest chapter by far! I really hope you enjoyed this u guys! Like PLEASEE i hope its good and that i didn’t make any mistakes bro 😭 thank you so so so much for everyone’s support on this series, it’s really motivated me to keep it going. anyhow, i wonder which parts of the bucket list will be completed and which ones wont? well, all in due time, i suppose.

Taglist: @eywas-heir @elegantkidfansoul @yeosxxx @whoreforpomegranates @fanboyluvr @thecrazyswamp @shkudss @stvrligghtt @ratchetprime211 @dearstelll @littlecrisisworld @itssomeonereading @goodiesinthecloset21 @ilovejakesullysdick @larkkyoris @opalescentblog @lovedbychoi @plzfeedmebread @holysaladapricothero @arminsgfloll @lovekeeho @evans-bitch

note: usernames in red are the ones I couldn’t tag

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jals-stuff · 6 days

Text

Taking care of it! p.2

That took ages because I had a shitton of things to do, apologies.

You can find part one here.

warnings: we talkin' about snakes here.

word count: 5.9k

note: i had a very specific ending planned and a very slight change in mood swept it all away, so there ya go.

The snake was now out of its egg and you were absolutely ecstatic. It was your first time actually caring for a pet, and you had even seen it come to life. Your petty rivalry with Orter didn't matter anymore and all you wanted now was to see what kind of colours Rivers would get as it sheds its old skin.

What you didn't know was if the beast was going to keep absorbing your energy as it kept growing or if it only took in emotions. Asking the teacher was out of the question, but you knew you'd find out about it quickly.

That night had been rather sleepless due to the excitement of seeing this adorable creature come out of its shell. You had carefully made a little nest inside one of your scarf and when the sun rose, you decided to take a little walk.

Orter was against the idea of letting you wander around on your own, because what if you just collapsed again? But it was all nonsense to you and you wrapped your scarf around your neck, then placed Rivers carefully on top of the cotton.

It didn't seem to mind being carried around, and at least it wasn't alone in your room. Walking around with a snake inside your scarf was unusual, but it was nothing compared to Orter’s heavy steps behind you as he just refused to let you be on your own.

“I’m just going to the store, Orter. I’ll be fine.”

“I don't want you to collapse and crush Rivers in the process.” Yes, that was his excuse. Truth is he wouldn't forgive himself if he left you alone in your current state. But he couldn't possibly tell you that, could he?

You did take offence in his words, though. Was he calling you fat? Ah, but again, he was pretty blunt by nature. The slight change in your expression made him panic just a little bit.

“And… if you get hurt, you won't be able to take care of Rivers anymore. This is a two-people assignment.” He added, pushing his glasses up a little bit. It was obvious what he thought, but you were pretty dense yourself.

“..right.” Was all you said before you entered the store, still carrying the mandragora snake inside your scarf. It felt nice to finally be able to walk around instead of letting him do everything. You bought some snacks, of course, and decided it was time for a little stroll in the Academy's gardens.

It really felt odd having Orter follow every single one of your steps and just pretending not to be here, staying all silent. He had his usual neutral expression, but the coldness in his eyes was a well-built wall to conceal his actual thoughts.

The sight of you being so excited about the snake and finally getting outside was refreshing, to say the least. You were walking slightly faster than him, and he had to take some of those comically big steps to catch up to you.

You were looking around as if you had never seen a plant in your entire life and he found that absolutely adorable. You sped up a little and so did he, and then…

You felt a little dizzy, as if your energy had vanished, and you stopped walking. The second your body leaned backwards, he was behind you to hold your shoulders so you wouldn't collapse. You looked up at him with a small sigh and just let out a stupidly childish chuckle.

“Ha! Thanks, Orter.”

It absolutely melted his heart but he didn't say anything, just let you rest against him as he pushed his glasses back up, one of his hands firmly holding the back of your shoulder.

“See, this is why I insisted on coming. Had I not been here…”

“But you were. It's nice, thank you.” You just said, taking the opportunity to rest as you just leaned against him without really thinking, breathing deeply and hoping you'd quickly regain your energy.

He didn't say anything to that, but you could feel his hand faintly tighten against your shoulder. A week ago, you would've panicked but somehow it felt relaxing now. You had to resist the sudden and very unexpected urge to put your hand on top of his.

Of course you didn't do it, you were too busy wondering why you wanted to do such a thing. You were overthinking the hell out of it and for a second, it felt like Rivers was squirming around inside your scarf.

You exhaled deeply and looked down at the small snake. “Oh, sorry Rivers. Too much?” And the snake flicked its tongue slightly in response. Orter looked down at it, then at you, as he had no clue what you meant by that.

Was he going to ask? Absolutely not. He would be damned the day he reveals even a portion of his feelings. Feelings? He couldn't place a word on what he was feeling, but he definitely didn't despise you anymore.

You weren't planning on moving anytime soon but some students were kind of staring now and it was really embarrassing. “Um… I think I'm okay now.”

“Are you?” He asked and you really, really wanted to say that you weren't, that you needed him to just stay like this for a little longer, and that under no circumstance he should let go, but you just nodded, and his hand didn't simply leave your shoulder. It traced your arm down to your elbow before he cut contact completely.

What is up with this guy? You wondered, but what was up with you as well? Rivers was almost going crazy with all of the emotions he had to absorb and it was only the first day.

“Anyway… let's, um… go back..?” You suggested in an unsure tone, and he merely agreed. The way back felt like an eternity, confused students staring at the two of you, wondering why you're both headed for your dorm room.

As soon as you took Rivers out of your scarf, Orter carefully held him and stared for a bit. He then just sat on the bed opposite to yours and kept it in his hands, looking at it as if he had never seen anything like this before.

“Isn't it so cute?”

“It…” ‘isn't nearly as cute as you’ was what he wanted to say but he decided not to. “...is, yes.” He kept looking at it in an intense effort not to stare at your amazed expression, with stars in your eyes as you gazed upon the adorable baby snake.

This was going to be one hell of a rough week. He had nothing to pour his attention into since there was no homework. He could read another book, but then you would probably think he doesn't want to talk to you, and gods, he does.

He could absolutely research more things about young mandragora snakes, but then you'd be left alone, what if you collapsed? What if you weren't feeling okay? What if you needed him for something and had to get out of your room and go out of your way to find him but ended up fainting again?

He was clearly overthinking and Rivers could feel it, slightly squirming in his hands. Orter came back to himself and blinked a few times, then sighed as he looked at the snake. “Oh, sorry.” He muttered, petting it with one of his fingers.

It was your turn to be confused as he apologised. For a second, you wondered if he, too, was overthinking, but… that was definitely not his style, why would he? An idea suddenly crossed his mind.

“We could go to the library and do some more research if you'd like.”

You thought for a bit; researching was an excellent idea and this way, you’d be making good use of your time while also staying with Orter. While also staying with Orter? When did that become a priority to you? Your thoughts were scrambled again and you just shook your head to dismiss them.

“Good idea, let’s go, you can have it.” You said as you started taking off your scarf, but he stopped you and just carefully placed Rivers inside of it. He couldn’t carry the snake, not if he had to pay attention to you in case something went wrong.

You assumed exactly that, as you didn’t oppose this decision and just grabbed a few snacks and left your room, followed by the straight-faced sandman. Everytime you started walking a little too fast, he would simply grab your sleeve to slow you down a little and give you this look, these eyes that practically said don’t waste your energy out loud.

And instead of rolling your eyes or being snarky like the old you would’ve done, you’d slow down, knowing he was right. You were paying attention to Rivers inside your scarf, sometimes patting the top of its head with your index finger and the little snake didn’t seem like it minded at all.

However as you did this, your eyes weren’t exactly focusing on the path and you felt something hit your whole front as you stumbled backwards, right into Orter’s chest and he put both hands on your shoulders to stabilise you. Looking up, you were met with a student’s annoyed glare.

“Hey, can you fucking watch it?”

“Ah—” You felt terribly sorry and you were about to apologise, but you felt the sand magic user’s hands tighten against your shoulders slightly, prompting you to stay quiet. His eyes travelled from your figure to the student’s face, giving him this cold look he was known for.

“Do we have a problem here?” He asked, and oh boy, you could feel the atmosphere brutally change, as if the air around the three (four, with baby Rivers) of you was thick and icy. You looked up towards Orter’s face and he was staring daggers at this poor guy, who just stepped back quickly.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention!” He stuttered, and this obviously should’ve been your line, but these golden eyes were too intimidating for anyone to handle. The student quickly left and Orter pushed his glasses up a little and blinked slowly, then looked down at you.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?”

Somehow, for some reason, for some goddamn reason, your heart was beating too quickly for your own good. You couldn’t even speak up, because if you did, the only thing that would come out is a choked out, high-pitched sound, as if to explain the amount of pressure your diaphragm was currently undergoing, and you only felt like screaming. Why? Was it badass, was it scary? Was it both?

A quick nod was enough for him to sigh softly in relief, and he gently pushed your shoulders forwards so you’d keep walking. And you did. The trip to the library was undisturbed after the earlier events, even if you kept glancing down at Rivers to check how it was doing. Orter pushed the door open for you, a true gentleman, you thought, and found a nice secluded spot for the two— three of you.

You sat down and he immediately fetched some books on mandragora snakes. Now that you’re thinking about it, this library is really huge, it has books about anything and everything. You could get stuck in here and be busy for more than a lifetime reading all of them.

Both of you opened your own book to take some notes. This whole moment was silent until Orter heard you whisper something and, as he turned to face you, he saw you hunched over one of the pages with Rivers’ head slightly coming out of the scarf. His eyes travelled to said page and he thought he was going to implode.

“Look here, Rivers!” You whispered and the snake followed your finger. You were… showing him pictures of other mandragora snakes, this time adult ones, and it seemed to be looking. The display was ridiculously adorable and he couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle and a faint smile as he watched you introduce Rivers to its congeners. How could you get any cuter when he thought it was impossible?

You glanced at Orter and found him staring at you with that very faint smile of his, and you couldn’t help but think he looked really handsome like this. The slight blush that crept upon your face was out of your control and you just pressed your lips together in an unfructuous attempt to hide it.

“I-I’m sorry, did I disturb your reading..?”

He chuckled again, this time a little louder, at your worried expression. “No, of course not.” He looked at you with eyes full of kindness, a rare occurrence for a man like him. “By all means, do not let me interrupt.”

You couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you, though he did seem very sincere… but now that he had noticed, it felt a little embarrassing, and just as if he could feel it, he brought his book closer to you and pointed at a picture of a young mandragora snake and looked at Rivers. “Looks like you, buddy.”

You almost exploded at how cute that was of him, but said nothing and just watched him playfully pat the top of the snake’s head. Orter’s soft side was unknown to the public, and witnessing it had drastically improved your mood for today, and probably the days to come as well.

The research session led you both to more notes on how to take care of a young mandragora snake and what their colour patterns mean. For example, the majority of this species gets glossy scales with purple flower patterns when they are healthy, but some rarer colours had been observed a few times in their natural habitat; specially strong specimens would have beautiful golden scales and very faint black flower patterns, some of them, mostly in captivity, would get darker green scales with white flower patterns, indicating they had absorbed a lot of anxiety from their owners.

Some had rocky, callous scales and looked really dangerous, just like the one your teacher had shown you in class, all of this coming from an angry environment. Others had darker patterns, or red flower patterns when the emotions they fed upon were love and care, some even had blue flower patterns if their owners were the dreamy type.

Despite how interesting it was to learn about mandragora snakes, so far nothing had been too helpful, and you deemed your routine to be just fine. In the mornings, you’d feed Rivers pieces of mandragora roots, then talk to it, pet it, let it wander around the room…

Come to think of it, since the day you had stopped biting back at Orter’s snarky remarks, he had only been very supportive and helpful. Was he just that nice? It did change pretty much everything you thought about him. When you glanced at his figure, he was just meticulously taking notes, really pouring his efforts into it.

Your hand reached for the snacks, and you realised the pack was empty. At the sight of this, your stomach growled in protest and your face turned red from shame. Orter turned to face you and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to go to the cafeteria?”

You shyly nodded and he adjusted his tie before standing up and retrieving the books. “Alright, let us go, then. I think we have enough material now anyway.” Another nod of your head and you stood up, then felt like you were weighed down.

“Did… did Rivers grow again? I feel like it’s getting heavier…” You muttered as you looked at the snake inside your scarf; it looked clueless. Of course it did, but it also looked a bit bigger than it was in the morning. “Look at you, you’re an even bigger baby now.” You cooed at the snake and it rubbed its head against your chin, making you giggle.

“I’ll measure it when we get back to our room, then.” He said and hearing him use the word our, for our room was doing… something to you. You dismissed the unusual emotion and stood up once more, carrying RIvers inside your scarf and with Orter’s hand hovering near your back to guide you.

The cafeteria was empty except for a few students who lingered after their lunch break, stalking the cook’s schedule to try and snipe one additional piece of dessert from the shelves. You were about to grab the chair you wanted to sit in, but Orter was faster than you and pulled it back so you could sit.

“What do you want? I’ll bring it here.”

Why was he being so… gentlemanly? You couldn’t say anything for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you with a slightly worried look. You let out an embarrassed chuckle and looked away from him, directly towards the tabletop. “Uhh… I’ll just have a bowl of rice, please…?”

“That’s it? A bowl of rice?” He raised his eyebrows at your answer, crossing his arms. “You need more nutrients than that, you’re clearly tired, you—” but he interrupted himself at the sight of your embarrassed expression. Not wanting to bother you any further with his concerns, he sighed and gave a nod. “Right. A bowl of rice it is, then.”

The way he was now trying to take care of your health was really endearing. Had he always been like this, you would’ve probably…

Rivers squirmed a little inside your scarf, interrupting this thought that was making your heartbeat a little faster than you liked, and you gently rubbed the snake’s neck with your index finger. “Ah, again, huh? I’m sorry baby.” you muttered, looking at the snake. In fact, you had helped Rivers hatch, and taken care of it until now, so it technically was your baby… and Orter’s.

The thought got your face heat up at maximum level, and you had to press your lips together as you felt your cheeks contort into this uncomfortable blushing smile, the air blocked in your throat and your lungs begging for you to exhale, but you couldn’t, lest you’d just squeal in timidity.

He put the bowl of rice down in front of you, making you jump in surprise a little, and mutter a quick “thank you” before digging in. It felt amazing to finally absorb some actual food other than snacks and sweets. You eyed Orter’s plate for a bit.

“Do you perhaps want some?” He asked, and you looked up at him, shaking your head.

“Oh, no, no! I was just wondering if Rivers would like that. You know, since it eats mandragora roots…”

As if to test out that theory, Orter grabbed a piece of carrot and presented it to Rivers, who immediately flicked its tongue towards that new piece of food it was being introduced to. It chomped on the piece of carrot and swallowed it. “It seems to like vegetables in general, then.” Orter remarked, again with a faint smile.

You thanked the gods that he didn’t notice your expression, staring at his lips like they were a work of art, your heart gradually beating faster and faster, weakening you to no end as you hadn’t recovered from last week yet.

With both of your dishes empty, Orter brought them back to the kitchen and both of you left the cafeteria to get back to the dorm room. Your steps were a little shaky and Orter noticed that; he walked a little closer to you so he would be able to catch you in case you fell. Upon feeling the way his hand hovered against your backside once more, your heart sped up yet again.

You did manage to walk to the door and open it, but your legs were trembling a little and he just knew you were about to fall. His arms gently supported your weight around your waist, closing the door behind him and walking you towards your bed. It was a bit embarrassing, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt to have his arms wrapped around you.

He helped you sit, seating himself next to you and still holding your waist. “Are you feeling alright, (Y/N)?” But his question fell on deaf ears as the comfort his embrace brought you automatically made your body and brain shut down. Your head rested on his shoulder and he sat there for a while, a bit muzzy as he looked at your resting figure against his body.

He would’ve been very nervous if you were awake, but it was fine right now. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arm further around your waist, tightening his hold just a little bit as you slept calmly, Rivers doing the same inside of your scarf. It took all of his willpower not to laugh out loud at how cute the two of you were, his fingers gently caressing your face, moving your hair away from your cheeks.

You exhaled quietly and nuzzled his shoulder and the side of his neck, and suddenly he couldn’t let go anymore. His heart was beating like crazy and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Suddenly, he felt the urge to keep you as close as he could. Suddenly, you were the remedy to his ills. Suddenly… he understood what this feeling was exactly.

His head was now resting against yours as his free hand was on your face, his thumb softly rubbing circles against your cheekbones. You seemed to appreciate the gesture, turning around just a little bit to face him, unconsciously wrapping your arms around his waist as well, making him think he was about to suffocate from the amount of affection he now felt towards you.

How could he reason now? The only barrier between him and his urges was the thought of rejection, but now you were holding him. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes and kissing the top of your head. He rested his back against the wall, sitting in your bed with you by his side, holding him, and nothing else mattered anymore.

Rivers was comfortably tucked in the cotton inside your scarf, sleeping soundly, and you were comfortably positioned with your head against his shoulder, arms wrapped securely around him and not letting go. He grabbed his book from the nightstand and opened it, reading with his free arm around you, holding you close.

However, this position was extremely comfortable, which led him to fall asleep, his hand holding the book now laying limp against his legs while still holding you.

A few hours into the night, you woke up from Rivers’ slight movements inside your scarf. Your eyes fluttered open and you were immediately met with a pleasant smell; Orter’s. It barely took you a second to understand what kind of position the two of you were in, but this time there was no such thing as embarrassment.

You simply reached for his glasses, taking them off and folding them delicately onto the nightstand, before you felt him slightly toss at your movements and, without warning, he completely laid down and pulled you against him, tightly holding you in his arms. Only then were you embarrassed.

What would the best approach be when both of you would wake up? Should you just go with the flow, or pretend you didn’t notice what happened? No, no. This would be Orter’s choice. If he decided to keep holding you while both of you were awake, you would gladly accept it. But then if he decided to pretend nothing happened, you’d oblige as well.

But you didn’t concern yourself with any of this any further and simply didn’t resist his pull, letting him hold you close to him, with Rivers between the two of you, truly an adorable picture, you thought. It felt comforting and soothing, and you had no trouble falling back asleep even though you weren’t really that tired anymore.

…

As soon as Orter woke up, he had the reflex to pull you closer to him and move your hair away from your face before he realised what he was doing. He slowly pulled away, reluctantly leaving your embrace. Maybe, just maybe you hadn’t noticed any of this and he would be able to play dumb.

He puts his glasses back on, not remembering when he took them off… but it didn’t matter. He simply sat on the opposite bed and grabbed his book again, throwing sneaky glances at you to see when you’d wake up.

It took you something like an hour to emerge completely, sitting up on your bed with Rivers partially out of the scarf now. You rubbed your hands against your face and took a deep breath, looking around you. Orter was sitting on his own bed… was that all a dream? No, no. The images from last night were way too vivid for your imagination to have created them.

Then… was he going to say anything about it? You looked at him and he simply greeted you. “Good morning, (Y/N). How did you sleep?” His tone was still neutral, but it felt a little softer than usual. So he decided to play dumb, huh? Luckily, you were dumber.

“Oh, good morning. I slept like a baby. How’d you sleep?”

He cleared his throat slightly at your words. Did you… did you know? Were you playing dumb with him? He narrowed his eyes slightly before pushing his glasses up a little. “I slept very well. What do you mean like a baby?”

You chuckled and sighed. “I mean I kept waking up every hour.” You could see his face become livid, and you held your laughter back. “I’m joking. I slept really, really well for some reason, I don’t know.”

“Oh, that is… good to know.” He coughed and felt the urge to divert your attention to something else. “Hey, didn’t… didn’t Rivers grow overnight?” At first it was only this, a mere attempt to make you focus on something else. But as he looked at Rivers, he realised that he was right. It had grown longer and heavier, too. It was now roughly the size of your arm, in both length and girth.

Just how much was the little one going to grow? And what would the teacher even say? What would Rivers’ colour patterns be? So many questions without an answer, but you were sure it was all going to be fine. Somehow, the idea of having Orter with you through this comforted you into thinking such a thing.

Somehow.

And you weren’t surprised anymore when, everyday for the following week, you woke up finding Rivers gradually getting bigger and bigger. It was getting heavy, but it was still a really cuddly, friendly creature. It was weird, the way it absorbed emotions.

What was it absorbing to grow so quickly? Orter had a flying suspicion on what it was, but he was going to take this secret to the grave, or so it seemed. You, on the other hand, were clueless. You were now on the sixth day and the little one was not so little anymore.

Rivers seemed ready to shed and you would soon have to bring it to the teacher so they could reveal its colours. You were quite excited at the thought of discovering the beautiful patterns on its scales, and also the other students’ snakes. How did they all turn out, in the end? Would you also be allowed to keep Rivers?

…

It was still early in the evening and you were laying in bed. Orter was sitting on the chair by the nightstand, holding the snake and looking at it, rubbing its neck and patting its head. It was quite a cute display, really, and he was faintly smiling as well…

You shook your head slightly, dismissing these intrusive thoughts that started slithering into your mind, and decided to focus on the snake. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't guess what patterns it had, and you were getting pretty impatient.

Orter stood up from the chair and settled himself in his bed, back against the wall with Rivers resting against his chest, one of his hands kind of resting against it as if holding it close to him. He grabbed his book and started reading, sometimes glancing at the snake and mumbling incomprehensible things to it.

You decide to get out of your bed and sit on the edge of his to pet Rivers, and he immediately lowers his book and puts it away. “I don’t know if it was supposed to grow that much?” You wonder, out loud. “The ones we saw were… well, much smaller, right?”

Orter looks at the snake and boops its head. “Mmm.” He hums softly before raising an eyebrow and chuckling quietly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a big baby. Aren’t you, Rivers?”

You looked away from him immediately, hearing him speak to the snake in such a calm, tender tone was too much for your heart to handle and you were about to explode in a loud screech at how utterly adorable that was, and how you didn’t expect this. This cold looking, straight-faced man had been acting so tenderly these last few days, you didn’t even know if he was the guy you had been paired up with anymore.

You wanted to ask why he changed so much and what happened, but would he not take offence? Still avoiding his eyes, you thought of a way to ask him.

“You sure grew softer these last few days, Orter.” Your tone wasn’t aggressive nor mocking, and was accompanied with a faint, gentle smile so he wouldn’t think you’re criticising him. And it didn’t seem to bother him at all, his eyes travelled from the snake to your own, looking like he was forcing himself to look cold and distant.

“Did I, now?”

“Definitely. It’s… strange.” You trailed off, then realised he could take it in a bad way. “I mean— not bad. It’s different. It’s… unexpected? I um…” You were stuttering now and panicking slightly, not wanting to upset him or anything. “I think it’s very—” lovely? Or perhaps likeable? Both options could make it seem like you were confessing, really.

“I know you mean it in a good way, you don’t have to torture yourself like this.”

You exhaled in relief at his understanding and looked out the window. You knew that tomorrow, this lovely little assignment would be over, and it made you feel a little bitter. The thought of having to let go of this little routine you had quickly gotten used to was filling you with emptiness, ironically.

Only two things were certain in your mind right now: you wanted to keep both of them. How did a cold jerk and a snake become that important to you in such a short amount of time?

Your eyes travelled to Orter’s face again, taking in this gentle expression of his, and now it was starting to make sense. The reason why you couldn't take your eyes off him, why your heart was going crazy at every single touch of his hand.

You had fallen for this guy. Hard.

The thought made you blush slightly, and he pretended not to notice. Did he even like you… back? Did he simply put his rude, cold personality on hold just for the assignment? Was his old self going to resurface then? Was it really the end of these good times? If you could keep Rivers, maybe Orter would stay, too?

You were spiralling into overthinking once again, and didn’t notice his golden eyes on yours while you were simply staring off. He didn’t say anything and merely looked at your troubled expression, slightly amused. It had become a little game of his own now, trying to guess whatever was going through your mind when you stared off like this.

“You should probably sleep, you look pretty tired.” Orter said, in a very gentle tone you had grown accustomed to, maybe a bit too much. But sleeping was a bit like time travelling; you close your eyes and suddenly wake up a little later into the future. You didn’t want that, you wanted this moment to last for as long as it could.

“Absolutely not.” You muttered, and for a second, your tone had him slightly worried, but he wasn’t going to question it. He simply grabbed Rivers and came sitting next to you to let you hold it. For a split second, the thought of asking him to hold you while you two were sitting and looking at the snake crossed your mind; you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The very simple feeling of sitting next to him, his leg and arm against yours, was intoxicating enough, but it wasn’t enough, so to speak. It was getting later and later and you just wanted to hold on to this moment, you were unspeakably exhausted but you couldn’t let go. Your entire personality (and his) had shifted in only a fortnight and you weren’t sure how you managed to live like this before.

Orter’s mind, on the other hand, wasn’t going through angst the way yours was. He could only tell you were very agitated, and as dense as he was, thought that maybe, just earlier, you weren’t staring at him for no reason. He knew you were falling asleep already but kept holding on to awakeness, and it somehow felt really cute to him.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know?”

That sigh you didn’t know you were holding finally came out, and as if his words were a lullaby, you started falling asleep again, sitting next to him, not caring about your head that threatened to fall limp against his shoulder anymore. With this, you just… let go.

The noise of your front door closing brought you out of your trip down to memory lane. Everything in there was so vivid you could’ve sworn it happened yesterday, or the week prior. You closed your diary and walked towards the vivarium in your room, taking Rivers out of it and carrying it over your shoulders as you walked downstairs.

Grocery bags all over the kitchen floor, he went all out this time, you thought, but at least there was enough material to make some really good dinner.

“I’ve been reading the diary I was keeping during our graduate years.” You chuckled and held Rivers up, another pair of hands catching it and letting it slither around these arms. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? That was so long ago, but I can remember it all very clearly.”

“Mm, no wonder, it’s the same for me.” Orter said as he ran his fingers against Rivers’ beautiful red, flowery patterns. With a very slight smile on his lips, only for you, he simply took off his coat and hung it in the entrance before wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a quick kiss on your lips, as usual.

“There’s so much stuff, I don’t even know what I could cook with all of this.” You muttered, resting your head against his chest, and he merely chuckled once more and kissed the top of your head.

“Let’s just eat outside tonight, darling.”

Maybe group assignments aren’t always the worst.

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