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deepouterspacecandy · 2 months

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Whispering Pines

I plan for this to be a two-part piece, at least, as there are many mushy and maybe even spicy things planned for it—but today is my birthday and I’ll be away from my computer for a few days to celebrate. I really hope you enjoy reading it in the meantime. Big fluff, 18+ only.

In a world where infected roam the earth and surviving has become a daily battle, life is as good as it can be. Perfectly fine, by your standards, until Abigail Anderson entered the picture.

From the moment you saw her shredding all competition in the gun range, she stirred something inside of you that now clouds your mind and distracts you from almost everything else.

The term “crush” makes sense to you now, with the overwhelming burden of longing and unseen affection absolutely crushing you into miniscule particles of dust, drifting hopelessly at her feet.

Your infatuation has pushed you into a range of activities you wouldn’t have pursued otherwise. While it has undoubtedly made you a more capable soldier, it is unfortunate that the attention your accolades have received is not something you can reciprocate, even if you wanted to.

It’s not just her striking smile, or her perfect blend of rugged and soft features—not the sheer strength she exudes when she ambles through the chow hall in her tank top, cargo pants so snug across her muscular thighs it makes your knees weak.

It’s just her. A beautiful amalgamation of countless quirks and habits that, for some wicked reason, forces your senses to impossible heights when you desperately need them to subside.

“Are you hearing me right now?”

“Shit, sorry,” you say. “Go again.”

You lower your head apologetically, Manny’s face expressing absolute scandal when he notices the broad-shouldered goddess that diverted your focus from him. His very best friend and comrade, naturally.

When he waggles his brows at you and calls Abby over, your stomach swoops so low that the rapid beating of your heart contradicts the notion of standing still.

“Manny, don’t—Manny! Oh, Jesus Christ.”

With a brief, calculating glance at your fidgeting form, he meets Abby halfway, abandoning you in line.

As you lose focus on your surroundings, panic draws emphasis to the position of your hands. You become acutely aware, contemplating whether they should rest in your pocket or if that would come across as too deliberately cool.

You avoid watching them talk amongst themselves, the air thick with secrecy, because obviously if you don’t see her, she can’t see you and then you can vanish without a trace, escaping to a haven that grants respite anywhere but here in the damn burrito queue.

When you reach the front of the line, you snatch up your lunch with such speed that the person serving you may have mistaken your haste for a bad mood as you swiftly exit through the nearest doors and into the hallway.

“I can’t believe you,” Manny pants, trying to catch his breath as you fumble with your overcrowded keyring. “The first woman who’s ever tried to escape my charm.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you snicker. Metal jingles aggressively as you struggle to enter your apartment. “God, what’s wrong with this damn thing?”

In a display of cunning, Manny unveils a spare key, undoubtedly gained through some act of thievery, and shoves you aside. With a kick, he swings the door open and stretches his arm above your head to hold it for you.

“Do I even want to know?” you ask, gesturing at the stolen key.

“Probably not,” he chuckles.

He rests against your kitchen counter and, realizing you won’t ask him to go, hops onto the hard surface. He devours his meal, one enormous chomp at a time, legs casually swinging as you wander through your suite, trying to regain your appetite.

“So,” Manny says, balling up the wrapper before tossing it at your head. “You’ve got it bad for my girl, huh?”

“You’re actually the worst, do you know that?” you say. “I hope you never get laid again.”

Laughing uncontrollably, Manny tries to catch the messy wrapper you toss back at him, causing him to nearly tumble off the counter.

“That’s what you get, sucker!” you exclaim. “Looks like you won’t be making the softball team, after all.”

With a snort, Manny jumps down from the counter and starts rummaging through your mini fridge, in search of something to wash down his lunch.

“We’ll see after this weekend who is the real sucker.”

“What does that mean?”

With a voracious gulp, he drains the last drops of your juice rations, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He’s finally seeking retribution for all the snacks of his that you’ve been helping yourself to.

“Manny, what did you do?” you groan.

An abrupt knock at your door startles you, as Manny’s knowing look turns your mouth bone-dry.

“I’ll go wash up. You better get that,” he says.

With a leisurely pace, he saunters down the hall, his footsteps creating a gentle rhythm as he heads towards your bathroom and out of sight.

Thunderous knocks continue to echo through the room, causing your thoughts to scramble. You smooth out your shirt and fuss with your hair, taking a few calming breaths before flinging open the door.

A pair of bright, curious blue eyes greet you on the other side, setting your cheeks on fire. Swallowing hard, you stand there speechless, desperately grasping for something significant to say. Knowing what Manny told her would provide some helpful context, but that shithead has left you in the lurch twice today.

Abby sizes you up, her attractive face adorned with a growing smirk that spotlights her confidence.

“Hi,” she says with a warm smile, extending her hand for a friendly handshake. “I’m Abby.”

“Hey, yeah—I’ve noticed. I know,” you blurt, feeling yourself internally recoil at the gibberish spilling from you like a waterfall.

As you both stand there, the handshake lingering for an unusually long time, Abby’s amusement at your expense only seems to intensify. As she patiently waits for you to decide when it ends, her eyes crinkle cheerfully at the edges. By the time you pull away, your whole body feels sweat dappled and flushed.

Manny shouts from somewhere inside the apartment, sending your shoulders straight to your ears. “Are you going to invite her in already—where are your manners?”

His outburst earns a gratuitous eye roll from Abby, who then tilts her head with empathy towards you.

“Would—you like to come in?” you stammer.

“Yeah,” she says. “That’d be great.”

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

A few times each year, Abby takes charge of organizing events for the younger generations on the FOB. She leads a series of survival challenges—scavenger hunts, fishing and hunting, target practice, crafting competitions, herb, and plant identification—to help keep morale up and to preserve strength in the community.

Although you haven’t taken part, you’ve heard positive feedback from soldiers and their families on base. It’s a good thing too, since Manny has kindly stepped in and volunteered you to help Abby with the next one.

“I know it sounds corny, but it really helps build teamwork and keep everyone active,” Abby explains, referring to a relay race she wants to set up outside the walls.

“No, not at all—it sounds awesome,” you say.

“I was going to go solo, but if you want to come along, I’d appreciate the extra hands,” she says. I usually camp for a few days and build everything myself. It’ll be nice to have some company out there.”

Abby’s fingers find a loose thread that is spindling out from a tear on her jeans, and she starts to fiddle with it. Manny clears his throat, prompting you to join the conversation rather than staring at her like she’s an enchanting extraterrestrial.

“I love camping!” you squeak, putting Manny on the verge of collapsing with laughter as he hears the sheer excitement in your voice.

It wouldn’t be completely terrible if the couch swallowed you whole, but despite your nerves, Abby does a decent job of making you feel relaxed in her presence.

“Yeah? Do you have a tent and everything?”

It’s clear that the universe is conspiring to make you look like a fool, so of course you don’t have camping gear of your own. To be honest, you’ve always been thankful for the opportunity to choose your work while off base because every time you observe your unit setting up camp, it reminds you of how complex it all seems.

Your inclination is to prioritize keeping everyone fed and using your expertise in weaponry and stealth. If you attempted to pitch a tent with only tarps and some rope, someone would inevitably wake up in a puddle.

“I’m not so great with the tent erecting stuff,” you say, mentally cuffing yourself the minute you hear yourself speak.

You’ve never uttered the word erecting in your life before now.

You avoid glancing at Manny’s face, aware that he’s eagerly anticipating the chance to mercilessly ridicule you. With a sugary, lopsided smile, Abby boldly extends her middle finger towards her best friend. You can bet that he is making all sorts of faces behind your back.

“We can share mine,” Abby offers. “If that’s cool with you.”

“Sure, that works for me,” you say with a nod, trying like hell to stay composed against the heat climbing your neck.

Abby bites her cheek to suppress a smile.

“Good, it’s all settled,” Manny says, slapping your back. “Just you and Abby, all alone in the great outdoors.”

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

“I’m going to kill him,” you grumble.

Upon hearing the news of Manny finally pairing you and Abby together, Nora is giddier than you’ve ever seen her. While assembling a medical kit for your camp out, she gives you a cheeky look.

“That girl needs her shit rocked,” she says, bouncing her flawlessly manicured brows. “If you want my vote, I say you send her home to us limping.”

“Oh, my god! I’m never going to get my face to calm down.”

You press your palms to your forehead, desperate for a cold cloth.

Nora’s bright, warm giggles fill the room, matching the kind-heartedness she emits.

“There’s no way Abby isn’t dreading this,” you say, passing a roll of gauze to Nora’s outstretched hands. “You should’ve been there—it was like I forgot how to talk or something. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Well, if I know her as well as I think I do,” Nora says with a grin. “She probably found your mess pretty damn cute.”

“You think so?”

“Totally. She digs the dorky ones,” she shrugs, handing you the fully stocked medical kit. “Just be real with her, okay? Everything with Owen did a number on her. I’d hate to have to kick your ass when you get back.”

“I don’t think this is that kind of trip,” you say. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Leaning against the desk, Nora twirls a pen in her hands, lost in thought. The Salt Lake Crew, as you understand it, formed an unbreakable bond, strengthened by the shared experiences and obstacles they encountered while growing up together side by side. Though some challenges they faced have become distant tales, her face still carries the etching of the profoundness of their connection.

“I’m going to tell you something because I trust you, but please don’t make me regret it.”

The sound of the pen tapping against Nora’s thigh is quick and incessant as she gathers her thoughts. A small puff of air escapes her as she studies you intently from a distance.

“Fuck it,” she says, her lean hands gripping the tabletop. “Abby gets these—bad dreams, okay? Not all the time, but when she does, it can be rough. It’s why she goes out there alone.”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Yeah. So, it’s a pretty big deal that she’s bringing you along this time,” Nora explains. “Please be good to her.”

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

The two of you venture outside the gates in the early morning, the scorching heat prickling your neck. The drought-stricken summer is the hottest you can remember in ages, dry grass crunching beneath your boots as you trek on.

You bring your shirt up to swipe at your sweaty face, drawing Abby’s gaze as it travels down your body.

This time, it’s her face that flushes with a rosy hue as she realizes you caught her stealing glances.

“It’s cool of you to help me out,” Abby says, redirecting attention. “Even though it’s boiling out here.”

“I thought about bailing, I’m not gonna lie,” you chuckle.

The heat and Abby’s quick pace are leaving you out of breath, but you’re determined to keep up.

“Why didn’t you?” she asks.

You reflect on Nora’s words and how she pleaded with you to treat Abby honourably. Her advice was to be authentic, and even though vulnerability can be frightening, you’re going to bite the bullet.

“I’ve wanted to get to know you for a while,” you admit. With the sun piercing through the trees, blinding your vision, you tightly clutch the straps of your backpack and hang your head. “I hope that’s not weird.”

Abby stops in front of you, and it momentarily obscures the bright rays of sunlight, offering you instant relief. The freckles sprinkled along her sun-kissed skin become more prominent, enhancing her natural beauty. She’s so pretty it makes your chest ache, and your thoughts run wild.

Kneeling, she hunts through her bag and pulls out a crumpled ball cap. When she stands up and carefully places it over your head, making all the necessary adjustments, flutters stir between your ribs.

“This hat is weird,” Abby says, her soft smile contrasting with her words.

Before continuing the journey, she pauses to fix a few messy tendrils of your hair, her touch lingering behind your ear for a split second. It’s enough to overlook the blazing temperature outside, mistakenly convincing you it’s only a sensation within your body.

“What about you—where’s yours?” you ask.

Despite her attempt to hide it, her smile is unmistakable as she tilts her head away.

“It looks better on you.”

“I highly doubt the accuracy of that statement,” you quip.

If you had known she was such a sweetheart behind closed doors, you might’ve summoned the courage to approach her differently. Life is brief, and it dawns on you how much time you’ve squandered in fear.

Amused, Abby shakes her head and then gestures for you to follow her. You would willingly accompany her to the deepest depths of the earth if she wanted. Fortunately, you’re already experiencing a preview of that, with the summer heat threatening to sear you like a salmon steak.

Abby jogs ahead of you, her eyes hooked on something beyond the treeline. You match her speed, eager to discover what has caught her interest.

She leads you to a lake, with its surface as clear as crystal, mirroring the vibrant emerald hues of the surrounding trees. Wildflowers bloom at the water’s edge, cradled between pebbles, their petals a delicate splatter of yellow and purple. A family of ducks glide gracefully across the surface, leaving ripples in their wake.

You wish you had something to offer them.

“Please tell me we’re going swimming,” you say, spellbound by the lush oasis and the promise of a refreshing dip. “I haven’t been to the lake for years.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Abby says, beaming at you. “Have you ever gone skinny dipping?”

Her teeth graze anxiously over her bottom lip, examining you—her watchful eyes appearing filled with hope that she didn’t unintentionally cross a boundary.

“Only in my bathtub,” you say with a nervous giggle. “But I guess that doesn’t really count.”

“You’re a total dork,” Abby teases. “It’s kind of growing on me.”

“I’ll take it,” you say, delighting in the way she impishly scrunches her nose at you. “So, are we doing this or what?”

“You first,” she says, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she flicks at the brim of your hat.

When you toss it aside, Abby lifts her shirt up and over her head, balling it up to pitch on top of her bag. Her smooth, honey-blonde braid sways between her exposed shoulder blades as she widens her stance, unfastening her leather belt. Her back is a landscape of tight, defined muscles that leave you feeling dizzy.

Abby’s gaze meets yours as she looks back, a trace of wonder dancing in her eyes.

“Like what you see?” she asks.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby

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ml-nolan · 4 months

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Coffee in bed with Dreamling

You got it! T-rating for this one.

When his eyes open, Hob is greeted by high ceilings swirling with kaleidoscopic clouds. It takes no time at all for him to remember where he is. Dream has done a lot to make him feel comfortable and safe in The Dreaming.

"Hello, Hob."

That includes making sure to be at his side every time he wakes in this behemoth of a bed. Sometimes Dream takes the time to lie down beside him, with or without clothes, depending on whether he feels like seduction is necessary. It usually isn't with Hob—he's pretty much game at any time.

Today though, Dream is perched on the side of the bed, close enough to run his fingers through Hob's hair. It's nice that there's sort of a middle ground for physical affection these days. In the beginning it was a bit hot-and-cold, with Dream either demanding to be ravished or fully disappearing for days on end. But the joy of having been friends first is that, eventually, they both missed sharing the simpler, less heated moments.

"Is there anything you require this morning, Hob Gadling?"

"Hmmm…" This isn't a question he ever waves off. He's never understood why people play coy little games to be polite. He knows that here in The Dreaming, he can pretty much have whatever he wants. Why not take advantage of that? "Don't suppose you could get us a cup of coffee."

Dream snorts of the very idea that there would be something he couldn't provide. It's subtle, but very cute. Not that Hob would dare tell him that (well, not right now, anyway).

"How would you prefer it?"

"Just a regular cup of joe, a little cream, no sugar."

Hob can't say it's not delightful to be waited on by a king. To be indulged, more like. With the hint of a smile, Dream goes very still, and then there is a cup in his hand. It's gorgeous in an artisanal sort of way, with starbursts of gold leaf where cracks used to be. He hands it to Hob, its temperature cool enough to hold in his hands.

"Where'd you get this one?" Hob says, pushing himself up to sit against the cool wooden headboard. The coffee is perfect—roasted but not burnt, creamy but not too thick.

"From the dream of a cafe owner who lives in a seaside village," Dream says.

"Uh oh. So does that mean I've stolen some poor sod's coffee?"

Dream turns his head ever so slightly, which he always does when Hob says something that he thinks is silly.

"This dreamer is much like you," Dream says, voice colored with affection. "He is resourceful enough to make the best of the unexpected."

Hob sets his cup on the stone window ledge beside the bed. "Uh oh. I'm not going to lose you to him, am I?"

Anyone would clock the smile on Dream's face now. He shakes his head. "You are still singular to me, Hob Gadling. I would have no one else. Besides," his expression drifts slightly, "his existing partner figures heavily in his dreams. I would be loath to interfere."

With a thoughtful sound, Hob scoots closer to Dream, straining up to kiss him. Obligingly, Dream leans into it to meet him halfway, letting his soft, cool lips linger on Hob's. There's a flutter in Hob's stomach, the same way there always is when he wakes up under Dream's attentive gaze.

They break from the kiss. "How long will that coffee stay warm?" Hob jerks his head toward where he'd left the gilded cup on the windowsill.

Dream's eyes flash, darkening from sea green into that clear black sky. He sets a hand on Hob's chest and eases him onto his back.

"As long as is necessary."

This piece was brought to you by these Soft Prompts. I've got a lot of great ones in the queue, but please feel free to send an ask for Sandman, The Magnus Archives, or Malevolent ships (or any of my OCs)!

#yay we're back with ficlets!#my head has finally cleared enough!#finally!#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #soft prompts

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dejabluebabygirl · 1 year

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I See You - Prologue

Miles Quaritch x Fem! Na'vi OC

Summary: Vira Te Wou Auhew’ite, an albino Na'vi and future Tsahìk of the Tayrangi Clan, The Ikran Riders of the Eastern Sea, keeps needing to save the demon Miles Quaritch at Ewyas command. When she's given a sign to try to teach him The People's way, both she and Miles struggle with their growing feelings for each other.

Authors note: So, this is the first thing I've written in a long time and the first time I have ever posted online so please be kind, I'm not the best with syntax or formatting my writing sadly. BUT I went and saw Avvatar the Way of Water and I'm obsessed with Na'vi/Recom Quaritch. I had a dream about a pink Na'vi (then started researching it and found this old post as the guide for her hair and eye colors: https://forum.learnnavi.org/general-avatar-discussion/navi-with-albinism/ ). After that, I MANICALLY hammered out 5 chapters to this fic. It's messy and imperfect but I hope it will be enjoyed. Slow burn/Enemies to lovers I think is the vibe this is going for as I try to reel in and edit this. Quaritch still had his loyalty to the RDA and humans so I think it would take time, and patience for a real romance to bloom. There WILL be smut but it'll take some time before we get there.

Also, this will HEAVILY parallel Jakes journey in the first movies but not be a retelling. If that's not your cup of tea, sorry.

Rating: T

Warnings: None really, canon typical violence

Words: 1803

The first time Colonel Miles Quaritch saw her was when he claimed his banshee. He’d managed to get on the back of the beast and connect his queue but they’d gone over the side of the cliff where the bastards lived and were falling, fast. Was this second chance at life over before it had even really started?

Then in an instant, she was there.

A large yellow and pink blur was flying beside him. It was Na’vi female on her own golden Banshee. Miles was falling so quickly he barely had the time to take in that she was the strangest Na’vi he had ever seen. She was pink.

Expertly beside him, she dove on her own beast just as quickly as he and his mount fell, her peculiar blonde hair streaming behind her as she shouted in near-perfect English.

“Think fly not fall, use the bond!”

“Fly?” When the words escaped the colonel's mouth the creature shot up, back up through the clouds of the floating hallelujah mountains to the Banshee Rookery, back to his team and Spider.

His success spurred the rest of his team to go on and claim their own Banshee partners but the colonel's thoughts drifted back to the strange-colored Na’vi. Why had she helped in? Had he imagined her? Hallucinated in the face of impending doom? He didn't mention the interaction to anyone.

Once the squad was whole, they rode on their mounts. Spider rode in front of the colonel as they moved in formation through the mountains, the kid seemed to be enjoying it. Quaritch kept his eyes open for the pink Na’vi but no sign of her. He figured, whoever she’d been, whyever she’d saved him, he’d never see her again.

Until he did.

Miles saw the pink Navi almost immediately once his team had rounded up the sea na’vi village for questioning. She tried to stay toward the back of the group but she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was pink after all, how she’d survived amongst the Blues was a wonder, he’d seen firsthand in the jungle how useful the blue colorings were to helping him and his team blend in.

He filed away in the back of his brain that she dressed a little nicer than the common natives, her grab was mostly green and beads dangled from her biceps. The most telling sign that she was important was a big ol’ beaded collar around her neck. Savage royalty perhaps?

Either way, it didn’t help him understand why she’d gone out of her way to help him before but he intended to find out.

But once he gave the order to burn the hutches, the opportunity to question her was missed. The pink Na’vi took the opportunity of the confusion and anguish of the tribals to bolt to the yellow banshee and fly back toward the mainland.

The Recom Na’vi watched her soar right over him, her big orange eyes filled with tears unabashedly made eye contact with him. She didn’t screech or scream like the other locals on the beach did, throwing themselves to the ground with grief. No, she looked at him with those big doe eyes like he was supposed to be better than this. It pissed him off that she had the gall to be disappointed in him for being the soldier he was.

Miles didn’t enjoy that little twist in his gut, one because a damn native made him feel it and two because he felt it at all. His human counterpart would never be so weak. The pang of guilt was amplified when he looked to Spider, who was grieving just as much as the Blues at the loss of their home.

“Should we go after that one Colonel?” Zdinarsk asked, gesturing with her gun and popping her pink bubble gum nonchalantly as the flames raged.

Briefly, the colonel considered having her shot out of the sky or pursuing her on his own banshee.

But he did owe the little na’vi a debt and he was feeling charitable today, already not killing the villages Tsahìk for Spider's sake. He really did care what the kid thought, even though he told himself time and time again he wasn’t actually his son, they weren't even the same species anymore.

“Naw, the fact she’s flying means she’s no use to us. We must have interrupted her vacation.”

When he got back on the boat he asked the science puke who loved the Tulkun why a Na’vi would be pink, he went into a long-winded explanation that ended with him saying it was like being an albino. It was rare but it happened.

Quaritch had a feeling he’d see her again, he wasn’t a man who liked to believe in coninsicdenece.

–-

When he saw her again, his life debt to her was doubled.

After being rescued from near drowning by Spider after his fight with Sully, Miles flew on the back of his Banshee for as long as he could back to the mainland. He was trying to make it to the RDA to get patched up but the banshee could feel he was hurt and ultimately it slowed them down.

They’d made it into the heart of an unknown part of the jungle, Quaritch was weak and took up against a tree, holding his abdomen, his banshee close to keep an eye on him. It was strange to him still that the beast was so loyal to him but it served him well so far.

As he lay there against the tree, his breathing was labored. He was hurt but he wasn't sure how severe.

Clutching his abdomen he could help but think of how he was breaking his own original “Pandora Rules” by being out after dark. But tonight he noticed how the forest was filled with bioluminescent life and for once he thought maybe Pandra was the slightest bit beautiful and not brutal.

The colonel was struggling to keep his yellow eyes open and his breath steady but he saw the slightest of moments among the trees, the dancing of dozens of little bioluminescent dots.

“I see you” he managed to grunt out, knowing it had to be a Na’vi, here to end him once and for all.

But the figure approached with caution, not contempt in the low light he was able to make out this was no typical Na’vi. It was the little pink one again.

“No, you don't see,” She said in English and she knelt down next to him.

Her small 4 digited hands reached for his abdomen, where most of his pain was.

The colonel's much larger blue hands snatched her pink ones up before she could touch him. She looked annoyed, puffing out her cheeks but Quartich wasn’t about to just start trusting the natives, not after all he’d don’t to them.

“Help. Let me help.” She urged, attempting to move her hands towards his waist while his hands were still holding them. They didn’t move an inch in his vice-like grip.

He didn't move a muscle as his yellow eyes stared into her orange ones, looking for some indication of her intention. The color reminded him of the good, warm fire on the first cold day of winter. They were warm and inviting. He continued raking his eyes down her to form to assess how much of a threat she could be. The female was light pink, a blush color with even slightly darker pink striations down her body in place of the normal blue ones the Na’vi had. She squirmed a little but he was too strong for her to really put up any kind of decent fight.

She had long white-blonde hair with one thick braid down the center of her head that he assumed held her queue, it was surrounded by several smaller ones around it which eventually flowed from braid to curl. She still wore all the pomp and frills of being an important native, tons of beads on her clothing, and she wore one of the collar necklaces that indicated some kind of status.

Quaritch also took note of a little garter on her thigh that held he could see held a knife made of bone and a small satchel she was carrying.

She did not seem to appreciate how long he was taking to study her, letting out an exasperated sound and rolling her big orange doe eyes.

“Fine. Die.” She shrugged and turned her head away like a waspish brat.

His wounds must have been getting to him because he briefly imagined that if he wasn’t still holding her in place that she would have stood up to stomp her foot.

“Settle down, sweetheart. Just looking at who I’m dealing with, nothing personal.” Quaritch retorted as he released her.

Miles made quick work to remove his combat vest on his own but winced as he tried to pull his shirt over his head. The little white Na’vi leaned in to help him and he didn’t protest. Once the pair of them managed to wrangle it off of him, the natives' face was too close for his comfort.

She seemed to notice this too and moved her face back after a beat to start assessing his abdomen and torso, she ran her little hands over his one of ribs and it earned her a full fang-faced hiss from him. It was surely broken after his scrape with Sully.

She got up without saying anything and retrieved from big leaves and began applying some foul-smelling paste from her bag to his abdomen that reminded him of cough drops.

Her pink legs were tucked under her delicately as she worked, now wrapping him up with the big leaves as makeshift bandages.

“Why are you helping me anyways, Princess?” The sharp edge of distrust in his voice.

“Not Princess,” was all she said, ignoring his question as she finished his bandages and now retrieved a needle and thread.

Quaritch was not a man who would be ignored.

Even in his current state, he was bigger, faster, and stronger than her. He grabbed the long white blonde braid that held her queue when she looked down to thread the needle.

She screeched and tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. The little pink Na’vi didn't even try to fight him, she was obviously not a warrior.

“I asked you nicely, so now I’ll ask you again,” his hold tightened “why did you save me? Why are you helping me now?”

She frantically said something in Navi but he quickly cut her off.

“No, no, in English.”

He lacked the patience right now to decipher the alien language.

“Ewya wishes for you to live,” she spat.

Quaritch released her and let out a bitter laugh that stung his broken rib.

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textbook-machismo · 8 months

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SAVED BY A SIREN

Chapter 3: Is this the end?

Pairing: Crosshairs/Drift

__________________________

"Oi! Scram ya filthy flyin' vermin! Find yer own damn fish!"

Crosshairs was currently shooing the noisy seagulls away from taking the fish he caught for himself. One of the seagulls managed to sneak behind Cross and snatch one of the bigger fish and flew off before Cross noticed. The seagulls cried and flew off, leaving Crosshairs alone in his boat.

He sighed sitting down, running his hand through his messy hair. It has been a couple of days since he left the AutoShip and luck has not been on his side. It rained two nights ago and he got completely soaked, luckily the spare clothes he brought along stayed dry under his other belongings. Food was another issue. He didn't pack enough for himself and soon had to fish for food. The seagulls quickly became a problem because they kept stealing the fish when he wasn't looking.

Now here he was, alone on a small boat at sea, with the hot sun shining down on him. There was not a single cloud in the bright blue sky. Surrounded by miles and miles of sea, the sound of hungry birds flying above him.

"Bleedin' hell..."

Crosshairs took off his coat and placed it aside, but he was still feeling hot. He slowly turned his head and glanced at the water. It was tempting to just jump in and feel the cold water cool down his sweaty burning skin, but he shook it off, remembering all the creatures that lived in the salty waters. He noticed his reflection and boy it was bad. His hair was messy and oily, skin dry and burnt. He grew some stubble on his cheeks and his previous thin stache slowly became thick with hair. His eyes were the last thing he noticed. His emerald eyes were dull with bags under them. He looked like a mess!

His reflection disappeared from a splash of a fish, now just looking at the ripples. He sighed and sat back up.

Two days have passed and all he could do was lay on his back with his eyes closed. It wasn't as hot, the weather was warm with a slight breeze, the waves were calm but they still gently rocked his boat in a soothing way. Crosshairs was absolutely bored out of his mind though. Sometimes he would start a conversation with himself for no reason.

"Is there anythin' else ta eat otha than fish..?"

"Well ya could catch a seagull and eat that-"

"Nah, Ah ain't gon pluck feathers. Too much work.."

"Then keep eatin' fish ya dumbass-"

Crosshairs groaned, putting his arm over his face.

"Could this get any worse..?"

And as if on queue, the wind picked up and the clouds darkened, low roars of thunder replied.

"Guess it can--"

The weather quickly changed. The waves slowly got strong and the wind aswell. The boat began to rock more, making Cross move around along with his stuff. He held on tightly watching the waves get bigger by the minute.

"Shit shit SHIT! This ain't good..!"

He began to panic. The thunder got loud, the sound booming in his ears. The waves slammed against the boat, rocking it roughly. Crosshairs could only hold on and look at the situation that he's in. There was a loud crash behind him, making him turn around and the sight terrified him. Before he could react or say anything the massive wave crashed down on him, breaking the boat and washing away his belongings.

Crosshairs was now in the water, opening his eyes to watch the wooden planks and equipment float away. Now what was he suppose to do?!

Suddenly he felt his stomach turn. He felt weird, like...something or someone was..watching him? But there was no one.. he was alone..but he didn't FEEL alone.. He turned his head and only two cold blue eyes met his, making him yelp, causing him to lose some air. He quickly shut his mouth again and began to swim away, away from that..that THING- whatever the hell it was! He kept swimming and swimming and when he looked over his shoulder he saw the Thing follow him, and it was fast.

Crosshairs tried to swim up to the surface but the rough sea kept him down. He was running out of air and soon his body went still. Whatever air he had has left him. The last thing he saw before blacking out was a shadowy figure and those same cold eyes from earlier.

"Ah guess this is the end fer meh..."

___________________________________________

#transformers #crossdrift #crosshairs #drift #pirate and siren au #Saved by a Siren #fanfics

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fractured-legacies · 10 months

Text

Imprudent, Chapter 8: Outsiders

Prologue | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Chapter 8: Outsiders

Other anomalies keep mounting as we continue to observe. While our instruments are not specialized for this form of observation work, we have registered what can only be described as ‘unknown entities’. Our initial thought was that they were unknown ramuses that we missed in our initial survey. However, our lifesignature sensors have been unable to classify these entities as either living, artificial, some form of construct, or other device. Given that they are operating within acceptable limits for the humanoid inhabitants of the planet, even from orbit, we can only assume that our sensors are operating correctly—they just cannot identify what it is they are seeing.

And speaking candidly, for the record, I have to agree, given that we are trying to get them to identify giant dragons flying through the clouds and enormous, glowing, translucent canids, felines and other predators prancing through forests.

~o0O0o~

Raavi ava Laargan

Standing on top of the snow drift that hid the stone wall of the canal, I stared into the distance. I fancied that I could see our tracks in the ice, here and there, along the path back home.

But we weren’t going there. Instead, we were turning along a different canal path, one that would lead us southwest, along the kingdom’s central plains.

“You okay?” Lady Fia asked, coming up behind me. “We can take you back to your home, and then continue on. I appreciate you coming and helping this far, but you don’t have to.”

I shook my head. “No. I need to come. No offense, but none of the others would be able to fix the boat if it broke, and then you’d all freeze to death. Well, maybe not you, but I imagine you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“No, very much not. I hate it when I get that cold. I won’t die, but I still get to suffer a lot of the other fun symptoms,” she said. “Come on. Let’s get back to the boat.” We walked—up, this time, because we were going to be working our way up to the mountains. And that was the whole point of canal locks, after all—the land rose and fell around them, and they lifted the canal barges between the different levels of water, which were flat.

There were three hundred locks on our path to the mountains, which would lift us up by over three miles. But there wasn’t a straight-line canal going up there; it wasn’t practical, with so many hills in the way. So what would have been a seven hundred mile journey by road was going to be a four thousand mile journey by ice-boat along the canals.

Lady Fia’s voice broke into my thoughts. “So, Raavi.”

“Yes?”

“This is your boat… and while it’s small, it’s well made. I think we should give her a proper name. What do you think?”

“Really? You think that?”

“I do. It’s a bit unconventional, but if anyone argues that it’s not a real boat… I’d be happy to take it up with them.”

I laughed a little at that, imagining a queue forming of outraged sailors wanting to take Lady Fia to task for giving my ice-boat an honor only for ocean-going vessels. Would she duel them or drink them under the table or what? Or mix it up a little for variety?

“So what would you call her? Give her an old girlfriend’s name?”

I coughed. “That would require an old girlfriend first.”

“Oh dear. Well then… hmm… we could go whole hog and give her a virtue. Courage or Duty or something along those lines.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, as we came up to the ice-boat, reassembled and reloaded on the higher ground of the upper canal, beyond the lock. “Come on. We’ve got a long way to go.”

“That we do.”

The townsfolk had emerged after the earlier attack, heartened by our report from the capital that the King was going to send out troops to help them defend themselves. With their help, we continued on, heading south-west, away from my home in the north and east.

I didn’t know if I would ever go home again.

But I needed to do this.

For everyone’s sake.

Zoy

Sitting at the back of the ice-boat, Zoy found herself fidgeting. Which was annoying; she knew how to hold still for extended periods of time. She knew how to keep watch, how to reconnoiter under stealth, and stay hidden for hours upon hours.

So the fact that she kept finding herself tapping her foot or shifting her arms around was downright bothersome.

It wasn’t the trip in the ice-boat, she was fairly sure. The initial fascination and novelty of Raavi’s creation had already turned to tedium. As amazing as it was to be able to travel at such a speed, Dormelion-built canals weren’t exactly known for their picturesque views even in the summer; in the winter, it was all snow-white under gray and black skies. The fact that they were traveling an average of forty miles an hour now was strictly intellectual when those forty miles all looked pretty much the same, hour after hour.

But even though she was bored by the unchanging scenery, it wasn’t the source of her fidgeting. Nor was it the seats; while they were plain wood, with the only padding being their coats and supplies, she’d sat in more uncomfortable places without any problems. She’d once spent nearly twenty hours straight laid out on a dusty and splintering wooden ceiling beam, waiting for an opportunity to sneak into a back room. That had been loud and obnoxious and smoky, and while the sound of the skates on the ice was irritating, it didn’t even compare.

So it wasn’t that.

What was it? Why was she twitching like some thug who’d overdone it on the stimbark?

She sighed and leaned back in the seat.

“You all right?”

Zoy turned to look at Yufemya. The other woman was looking at her with concern—an expression that Zoy recognized all too well from Stylio, even when it was hidden behind scarves and masks.

A dozen lies came to her lips, everything from the sullen yeah, sure, to the more upbeat of course!, but she pushed them aside. Stylio was right there in front of her, and if she tried to dodge the innocent question, her mentor would be sure to call her on it.

“I should be, but I’m not,” she confessed. “And it’s bothering me that I can’t figure out what’s bothering me.”

Yufemya smiled behind her scarf. “Oh, I know that feeling.”

Giving a smile of her own, Zoy leaned in a little and said, her voice pitched lower, but still loud enough to be heard over the skates, “I’ve been meaning to ask why another person from the Empire is here. You’re… well, not the first, that we’ve run into, but definitely the first we’ve seen who seems to just be another traveler.”

“I notice that you didn’t call the Empire ‘home’,” Yufemya said.

Zoy shrugged. “It hasn’t been for a long time. But you’re from Kasmenarta too, judging by your accent.” Although her accent was definitely not from the poor lower levels of the grand crystal city. “Is it home for you?”

With a shake of her head, Yufemya said, “I’m in exile, to put it bluntly.” She frowned and said, “I… sort of killed someone.”

“Sort of?” Zoy snorted. “What, so it was manslaughter, or murder? Or something else?”

“I didn’t exactly get the magistrates to rule on it,” Yufemya said with a roll of her eyes. “I just knew that I needed to get out and away.”

“Fair, fair. Someone from the upper levels?”

Yufemya sighed and nodded.

“Eesh. Good thing that you got out, then.” Zoy considered just how brutal the city militia would be in hunting for the killer—accidental or otherwise—of one of the capital’s upper ranks, those who lived above their lessers, both literally and figuratively. When she’d been a child, before she’d met Stylio, there had been a case where a young lord—a count’s son or something along those lines—had gone down into the slums to enjoy himself at the pit fights. He’d been beaten and robbed, but not killed. After a week’s intensive search by the militia, the three muggers had been found, and lashed to the exterior of the city to let them die of exposure.

They sat in silence for a moment before Yufemya asked plaintively, “Why do you have so many knives?”

Zoy snickered as Stylio gave an overwrought sigh from her seat; she’d been listening, not that she could avoid it, given how close they all were. “I have them because I can use them, and always having one more can make the difference in a fight.”

“Even the ones…” Zoy saw Yufemya’s eyes glance downward, “even the ones there? How would you even get them out in a fight?”

“Oh, those are the holdouts, for when you’re told to hand over everything… and you do. Almost. Saved our lives a few times,” Zoy said with as light a voice as she could manage.

“I see. Well… let me just tell you that seeing you pull out a small arsenal like that was amazing.”

Feeling her cheeks heat at the compliment, Zoy cast about for a reply, but a call from Fia drew their attention. “Everybody, brace yourselves! We’re about to hit a gust!”

“How—” Zoy started to ask, and then she saw it.

Everyone on the ice-boat gasped as they saw the glowing form flying among the gusting clouds, heading northward like an arrow from a bow.

A dragon.

It was vast, and even from here Zoy fancied she could feel the power it exuded.

The gust of wind hit like a blow, making the sails flap hard, and Zoy felt it as they picked up speed; even though they were heading south, more or less, the way Fia had the sails trimmed let them use the north-blowing wind to speed them on their way.

Zoy kept her mouth shut, watching the banks of the canal rush by at a notably faster pace than they’d been moving before. If they crashed at this speed…

But Raavi and Fia seemed to take it in stride, even as Stylio called out “Sixty-four miles an hour!” as they passed another mile marker.

Next to Zoy, Yufemya swore, and Zoy put a steadying hand on her leg. “We’ll get through this,” she promised the other woman.

Yufemya’s gaze caught hers, and she nodded, even as the little ice-ship rocked from side to side; they were traveling more than a mile a minute, down a corridor of ice and snow, miles from civilization; if they hit anything, they would almost certainly die.

But Zoy didn’t feel any fear, now that she’d had a moment to think. Stylio could heal just about anything, so long as the brain was in one piece, and Fia could probably get the mast through her chest and just whine about it ruining her clothes.

And Raavi, for all that Zoy was enjoying teasing him, was someone whose skill she had grown to trust.

They would get through this, traveling faster than anybody ever had.

The gust passed, as did the dragon, and the ice-ship started to slow with the wind.

“Well. That was exciting,” Fia said. “Yu, can you find us some place to stop and take a break?”

Yufemya nodded and pulled out the map.

Zoy leaned in to help.

Raavi ava Laargan

“Do you ever wonder what it is?”

“What what is?” I asked, working on piling the kindling over the mound of tinder I’d ignited with my lighter. The thinner branches caught quickly, thankfully.

“The Night-Light,” Stylio asked. “The Night’s Companion. The Sleepless Eye. The Light In The Dark. The Exiled Sister.” She pointed up into the—amazingly—clear sky, where the Night Light glowed among the glittering and twinkling stars. The moon had set hours earlier, but the Night-Light gave more than enough light to see by, especially with the ground covered by snow. “Do you ever wonder?”

I set some more kindling on the burning branches and added a few logs to the pile, the warmth welcome on my skin. “I have. There’s been some interesting research on that, in fact.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, one of my housemates back home—Emuund—is an astronomer, and he told me about the sorts of things that he and the others were doing and researching.”

“And?” Stylio sat down next to me, sounding fascinated.

“Well, it’s not a planet. The orbit is all wrong for that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, helping me put on another log; they’d come from a stack of wood under a tarp by the empty village next to the canal lock. The residents were—hopefully—all off in one of the nearby towns or cities, sleeping away in the caverns underneath, having left their orchards of conifurs, beefnuts, and yews to sit through the winter. We were just grateful for the windbreak; Yufemya’s suggestion that we stop here had been well received.

I frowned, doing my best to remember what I’d been told. “All right, so a planet orbits around our sun. There are five of them—two of which we can only see with telescopes—and since we’re orbiting closer to the sun than they are, we go faster. So they seem to ‘loop’ in their motion when compared to the background stars as we catch up and then leave them behind.”

She nodded, especially as I held my fingertips up to show the looping motion as one seemed to ‘overtake’ the other. “I follow.”

“The Night-Light doesn’t do that. It’s apparently locked to our orbit somehow; while it moves around a little, it’s nothing like the other planets. It’s a huge mystery as to what it is, how it’s moving when our math shows that it should be falling behind in its orbit, why it apparently doesn’t have any features we can pick out even with our best telescopes, or even how far away it is exactly.” I frowned. “Why do you ask, though? I thought that the Dormelion Empire… um… discouraged that sort of questioning.”

“Because of the Sacrem?” she asked.

I nodded, and added another log, the previous one having caught, followed by another.

“Yes, they are a problem. But, shall we say, I have left the Empire for various reasons, not the least being their beliefs.” She rose. “Later, when we are done with this, I would like to see the research on the Night-Light if you can find it for me.”

I grinned. “Of course!”

Yufemya came over at that moment with a pack and sat down, warming herself. “Good job getting the fire going, Raavi.” Twisting to the pack next to her, she opened it and started taking out food and a pan.

“It’s not ready yet!” I protested, looking at the blazing logs.

She shrugged. “It’s all right, Raavi. I’m just getting them out and ready. I know to wait.”

I shrank a little. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m honestly surprised you’re still awake. You know you can let one of us take the tiller for a bit, right?”

“But…” I grimaced, trying not to sound too selfish. The ice-boat—which still had no name—was my creation, and I felt so anxious at the idea of giving it to someone else. “It’s all right. I can handle it.”

“Just if you’re feeling tired, feel free to ask one of us to take over,” she said. Then a smile briefly grew on her face as footsteps crunched through the snow behind us, and she turned towards Zoy. “Is the tent ready?”

Zoy slumped next to the fire. “It is. Village checked?”

“It is. No one here, alive or dead. Some tracks through the snow, but they’re at least forty hours old.” Yufemya started rummaging through the pack again. “Also, I looked at the maps, and assuming the surveyors and Stylio’s watch are accurate, we’ve gone close to four hundred miles in the last sixteen hours.”

Zoy whistled and patted me on the knee. “Well done, Raavi.”

A yelp echoed through the trees, followed by Lady Fia’s cursing.

“Everything all right?” I called out.

Lady Fia called back, “Just dandy! Torn gods, I hate field toilet in winter…”

I grimaced in agreement as a chuckle—sympathetic by the sound of it—went around from the others.

Emerging from the trees a few minutes later, Lady Fia was still grumbling as she brushed snow off of herself. “‘Oh, this looks like a sheltered spot! Go here!’ I tell myself… and bumped the tree and the damn thing dropped a whole load of snow on me just as I was finishing up.”

I winced. “That sounds awful.”

“Just unpleasant. It’s not like I can get frostbite, unlike the rest of you, so be careful.” She pointed at Stylio, just as the older woman started to speak up. “Yes, you can heal it, but we shouldn’t depend on your healing if we can avoid it.”

Stylio nodded. “You are correct. But it is still worth noting.”

Lady Fia smiled and gingerly sat down around the fire, before closing her eyes and leaning her head back. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“The fire?”

“That for sure… but also not hearing that screeee sound of the blades on the ice!”

“Hear hear,” I said, and the others echoed me. “I feel like I can still hear it, and I see the canal walls every time I close my eyes!”

We sat in calm silence, only the crackle of the fire making any sound, and then, soon, the sizzle of meats and vegetables in a pan. We had miles to go—a lot of them—but we would do it. I was certain of that. I would make sure we got there.

After we ate, we took the hot stones from the firepit and brought them into the tent to help keep it warm. The thick padded wool of the tent kept the warm air inside. It was cramped inside, but we were all so tired we all fell asleep almost instantly.

I woke up, feeling an urgent need for the toilet, and pulled myself from my sleeping pad and blanket. Staggering to the tent flap and managing not to step on anyone on the way, I let myself out.

Wandering away a bit from the camp, I found a sheltered spot—not beneath a tree laden with snow—and did my business, doing my best to ignore the chill and trying not to think of the warm bathroom back in my parents’ house.

I was on my way back when I heard chanting on the wind.

Out here? Now?

I turned in the direction of the sound, and made my way through the snow. It took a little while, but I saw flickering light soon enough, and started heading towards it.

A short while later, I found the source. At the edge of the vast groves and orchards, abutting the forest nearly a mile away from the village, was a massive shrine-stone. It was at least twenty feet tall and carved over every inch. At its foot was a stone bowl, filled with a blaze, with offerings set in niches around it. A group of three men bowed before it, prostrate in the snow, chanting.

And then they stopped.

I swallowed a gasp as the blaze seemed to congeal into a shape. A cat… if cats glowed yellow-white and stood two feet tall at the shoulder. A pair of tufted ears extended up from a squat face above a stocky body ending in a short tail, patterns of spots picked out in yellow highlights.

The fire died down, and the cat padded forward, as if examining the three men, before pausing on the top of the bowl and standing as poised as only a cat could.

“Great Wise One,” said the center man of the three. “We greet you and thank you for answering our summons as always. And our bargain is unchanged: our gifts in exchange for the fecundity of the forest and groves, as we have ever done for you and you have done for us.”

The ethereal cat considered, and I turned and left.

I’d heard about such ceremonies. I’d never seen one, since I hadn’t been inducted into any, but I knew about them. They were private, personal affairs between mankind and the spirits. They were emphatically not gods—the priests had always been very clear about that—but they were beings of power who could be called and bargained with.

The fact that I’d intruded could have broken the whole thing; they might need another man sitting crouched in the trees for next year, and not know it…

I considered going back and telling them. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for breaking their pact with their patron, and it was a beautifully laid out grove. Maybe before we left, so I could have Lady Fia and the others with me, in case they took offense…?

I saw motion out of the corner of my eye and turned, to see a brief glow vanish behind a tree.

Uh oh.

I kept moving through the snow, retracing my steps.

Another glowing blur in the corner of my vision.

I started to sweat, wondering if I was going to suffer a different penalty for my trespass.

I saw it again, and by now I was certain that it was stalking me, and for fun.

Keeping moving as quickly as I could, I kept following my footsteps back. I’d just reached the campsite—I must have been moving faster than I thought—when I heard a sound and turned.

A weight hit me and knocked me to the ground on my back.

I whuffed with the impact, but the snow cushioned my fall. I blinked and looked up to see the ethereal cat standing on my chest. I could both feel and not feel its weight. It was there—I could feel it—but the weight felt less than my own coat.

At the same time, it was unquestionably pinning me to the ground.

I grimaced and said, “Are you going to be upset? I didn’t mean to spy on your summoning. I’m sorry.”

The cat seemed to consider for a moment and sat down on my chest in a classic loaf pattern.

“Urk! How can you weigh so much when you’re made of light?”

It settled in more pointedly, and not having any other ideas of what to do, I reached up and awkwardly petted it.

It purred, the vibration seeming to shake my entire body. I kept that up for a good ten or so strokes before I stopped and it opened a glowing yellow eye and looked at me.

“Got it. So this is my apology for spying on your summoning?” I got back to petting it, and it continued to purr. Somehow it had mass despite the fact that I could see my hand through it, as if it was cloudy glass.

After a few minutes, it shifted and stretched—with long claws extending out right near my face—and then walked off of me.

I rolled and started patting myself down. As I got up, I looked around for it, finding its tracks next to me… but those ended abruptly. And then I saw it on the ice-boat, sniffing inquisitively.

How had it gotten there that fast? It was a good thirty yards away, at least!

It saw me looking, and then, walking lightly along the rim of the boat, made its way to the prow and hopped down to the ice, out of my line of sight.

I trudged over, and looked down.

It was—unsurprisingly—gone.

Turning, I scanned the trees, and saw it standing by the base of one trunk, near where it had toppled me into the snow.

It saw me, stretched, and then pointedly walked into the groves, quickly vanishing from sight.

My heart pounding, I leaned against the ice-boat, and then blinked as the tent stirred. A moment later, Lady Fia emerged, yawning. She went over and started up the fire using a taper from the lamp, before looking at me. “Raavi, you all right?”

I nodded and looked at the shallow prints the cat had left in the snow, before looking again at the ice where it had landed before. In the corner of my eye, I saw the lines from the skates for the ice-boat. “I’m fine,” I said. “And in fact, I have a name for the boat now.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Meet the Lynx.”

<<<<>>>>

Prologue | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

And there we go!

Also, after some fiddling with settings, there are now Patreon-exclusive chat channels on the Discord server!

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astrowh0re · 1 year

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☾without you ☽ ✦﹒✶

- i got really tired at the end, apologies

neteyam x f! reader (aged up) ☆。⺌ warnings// angst/ language/ slight smut/ hurt/ mild violence ☆ word count -> 1.9k

====== neteyam, lo'ak, and y/n were only supposed to be scouting the raid, jake told you all specifically to stay out of trouble. but trouble is not something that is easily avoidable... =========

jake had let the three of you on his mission on the grounds that scouting for bogeys was the only thing you would be doing while he carried out his plan of shutting down a transport train that the sky people had passing through na'vi territory.

a gentle breeze blew through your hair as your ikran drifted through the clouds, but you was anything but calm. to your left was lo'ak and your right neteyam. the sight of neteyam perched on his ikran, his strong arms directing it, and his braids covering the upper part of his face made your stomach twist. you had been going on these missions in training with jake. you wanted to live up to your family's legacy of being fierce warriors and the sullys were family friends. you had known the two sully boys your whole life, but a new feeling rose up in you during these recent missions. the way neteyam always made sure you were always out of trouble and safe, or directing your body when teaching you how to better your archery skills made a heat collect in your lower body. you had always loved neteyam, but this was different. you were freshly 19 and neteyam had very much matured, you knew that you would both need to find a mate eventually, but you had been so preoccupied in your training that it hadn't crossed your mind. the thoughts added to your anxiety. you had been up there for a short time, but your nerves had made it feel like forever. there hadn't been any heat in the sky, but the train had just been blown off it's tracks and the ground squad was raiding it's contents for weapons. the sight of the large guns made lo'ak keen with interest.

"bro we have to go check it out," lo'ak shouted over the sound of the rushing wind.

neteyam gave him a stern look that said, absolutely not.

"dad will skin us!" he said in his typical brotherly tone.

"lo'ak i really don't think we should abandon our post," you said uneasily, eyes darting through the clouds.

before either of them could further convince lo'ak he took off towards the train with a laugh following the path of his ikran. neteyam gave you a look and followed after him with a growl.

you were close behind, and landed your ikran, sliding off of her and disconnecting the queue. lo'ak was holding a large weapon aiming it like he knew how to use it.

"you don't even know how to use that thing," neteyam said rolling his eyes.

"yes i do, dad taught me" lo'ak scoffed.

"you two are going to get us in trouble, jake is never going to let us do anything on missions again if we keep this up," you said trying to get the two to leave. the adrenaline in your body was making the dangerous situation more anxiety inducing.

"y/n's right, its not safe down here." neteyam said giving lo'ak another look.

"oh cmo-" lo'ak wasn't able to finish his sentence as one of the gunships that had been taken down hurled toward them.

you couldn't even make it to your ikran before you hit the ground in a painful tumble. pain was shooting through your body. you couldn't see anything but the dust that was choking your vision and the rubble flying towards the ground. your lower abdomen was on fire and your ears were ringing in the most horrible way. pure panic filled you.

a mangled cry for help left your mouth, but you couldn't find the strength to escape the terror that seemed to immobilize you. looking down you saw the cause of your immobility. a large piece of metal debri stook out of your side and a numbness overtook you. the sight was so nauseating and your vision went from fuzzy for black.

you felt strong arms hoist you up. and you immediately recognized their familiarity.

"get her on that ikran and out of here. now." you could hear the boom of jakes voice.

"i've got her," you felt neteyam's chest vibrate at his words.

you felt the roughness of his ikran on your skin and the way his hand tied your body to him to ensure you didn't slide off as he took to the setting sky.

"ne-teyam.." you mangled out, trying to open your eyes more. but the pain held your words in your throat.

"hey hey its ok, don't move, we're almost there," neteyam comforted you.

the last thing you remember was the suffocating pain that raked your body and the look on neteyam's face when your eyes rolled back into your head.

his body was shaking from the panic he felt, you had never looked so weak in his life, and the part of the metal he couldn't remove from your body hung out from an angry gash in your side. He held on to you in desperation and flew to the village as fast as he possibly could without causing you any pain.

===============================================

your eyes fluttered open as you two landed in the hallelujuah mountain base. you were huffing trying to grit through the pain as neteyam untethered you and carried you bridal style to his grandmother. you look up at him for solace and were met his pleading yellow eyes.

"its ok, you're ok, just hang in there." he said shakily.

his name was the only thing that seemed to make it past your lips.

he barged into the tent and mo'at's hands immediately found your body. tuk let out a cry when she saw your state.

"y/n, what happened to y/n!?"

neteyam set you down as gently as he could. he was ushered away from your form as mo'at and kiri urgently got to work trying to help.

"one of the gunships exploded, and she was right there" neteyam said running a nervous hand through his hair.

"did you try to take this out," kiri questioned motioning to the large piece of metal mo'at was carefully trying remove. crys leaving you at her actions.

"yes. i didn't know what to do, she wouldn't have fit on my ikran if i had." neteyam said, scared he may have hurt you more in his efforts.

"please— i... neteyam make it stop—" your cries were killing neteyam.

if you left him before he ever told you how he really felt or left him with a y/n sized hole in his heart, he didn't know if would live. eywa have you in her prayers. what if he never made you his mate. or held you. or felt your touch or shared his love with you. he was spiraling. he didn't think anything anything mattered more than you. he was going to kill lo'ak for this.

neteyam was forced out of the tent by kiri and he stood there for several moments consumed with worry. the cry of his dad's ikran made him snap out of his thoughts and towards the sound.

he made his way to his father his head bowed in shame. he had never felt this much regret in his life. he failed his duties, and he let y/n and lo'ak get in danger.

"what were you thinking. you know better, you're supposed be the older brother." jake seethed. his teeth showing as he glanced between his two sons.

"i understand sir, i didn't mean to let this happen." neteyam said.

"you're right, this wasn't supposed to happen. and, it won't happen again because you two are grounded. no flying for the rest of the month and no more missions."

before lo'ak could say anything neteyam let out a "yes sir." and submitted to his father.

"lo'ak go tend to the ikrans." jake directed towards his youngest.

"but—" lo'ak tried.

"now." he growled.

============================================

neteyam spent the night by your side, petting your hand and watching for any signs of discomfort. he could barely sleep. his heart tangled in worry.

when you finally woke up your voice was groggy.

"neteyam... are you ok, is lo'ak ok?"

the first thing you were worried about was him and his brother and neteyam felt his soul light up with his admiration for you.

"i'm ok, of course i'm ok. i thought i lost you y/n." worry was laced in his words. he was dabbing your forehead with a wet cloth and his hand were dusting across your skin. you closed your eyes at the feeling. the pain in your side was duller than when the wound was made, but it still throbbed angrily. the feeling of neteyam's touch was lulling you. it felt so good it distracted you from every other sensation.

you grabbed his hand and pressed it to your face. your brain was thinking the straightest. "that feels good," your face was hot but his hands were cold and easing your pain.

his ears twitched at your words, and he noticed the way your body keened towards him. did you feel the same about him? he softly began tracing the glowing freckles on your face and made his way down to your lips. you eased up off the mat and rested your weight against him. you were so close that if he leaned forward he could close the distance between the two of you. your tail wrapped around his calf, and you hazily peered at him.

the air in the room was heavy and there seemed to be a very obvious understanding between the two of you. neteyam leaned forward and kissed you with the delicacy of a shimmyfly's wings. you lost your breath in the kiss, and reached for his arm. the lean muscle grounded you and you let neteyam ease you onto your back. he was being so gentle. the feeling making you lose any sense you may have previously had. he ran his hand along your thighs, careful to avoid your injury. his kisses peppering along your neck, his teeth grazing your neck. a whimper escaped you and neteyam's tail flicked at the sound. his scent was intoxicating.

the way y/n, who was always so fierce and serious, was underneath neteyam's large frame in submission was sending his mind into a fog. before he entered a state of little judgement, he stop his soft assault on your skin, much to your dismay.

you both sat there breathing heavily. your pupils like large disks, raking over neteyam's body.

"when you are better, and i can give myself to you y/n, i will." he was playing with the beads in your hair.

you whined, "neteyam, i'm fine it barely even hurts anymore, i've waited so long for you"

he took your hands and pulled you slightly to up towards him, sitting you in his lap. you let out a slight sound of pain at the action and neteyam gave you a look. "barely hurts?"

you let out a soft laugh and settled with the feeling of neteyam comforting you as his hands raked along your back. you both had admitted your feelings for eachother in your own way and you knew there would time to do much more in the future.

"cmon let's get those bandages changed," he said using his strength to lift your slender body, "you'll heal in no time." his signature smiled flashing across his face.

==========================================

i finished this so incredibly late but i hope it wasn't too bad. hopefully more to come in the future... it's been so long since i last wrote anything !

#neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #jake sully #sully family #avatar #avatar way of water

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fountainpenguin · 5 months

Text

“'I'm doing this all for me!?' ... Dare say that about our love, and mister, I'll have to do away with you...” (x)

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... 7 years ago, I put this chapter preview image in my queue and it's been there ever since. It's this plot point that the entire 130 Prompts project was built around.

We've made it.

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New 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash update today!

Fairly OddParents || One-Shot - “Grudge”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

Find more Purple Train story arc HERE

End Arc 2

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Happy Peppy Gary (the teenage boy who used to rule the world) and Denzel Crocker (the school teacher who's spent years fighting to do the same) finally meet for a business proposition. It is raining.

... Where is the portal to Fairy World?

(First 1000 words under the cut)

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21. Grudge

Saturday July 13th, 2002

Year of Leaves; Summer of the Last Berry

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5 minutes after signing the Learnatorium off to Ed Leadly…

Passing by Dimmsdale Elementary leaves him feeling… giddy. Gary clutches his backpack by the shoulder straps, taking in the sight of empty swings squeaking in the wind. They stand like giraffes drinking from the savannah watering hole near the lonely see-saws and jungle gym. It's empty here. Dreary and chilly in the wind, even for a summer evening. And, like… There is something wild, beautiful, and free in witnessing this little slip between horror and peace. It's like peeling back a corner of yellow wallpaper to reveal life and color on the other side..

These days, Gary rarely has a reason to walk by the school. His apartment's in the other direction, closer to the downtown area (Right next to Alden Bitterroot's well). But there was once a time he walked to school five days a week, and five days back the other direction (unless Mr. Sanderson in a rare show of mercy pinged them safely home).

Years ago, back when he was only ten, he used to play on this same old equipment. The school has upgraded to a new slide (with a playful rock wall), but everything still feels so familiar. He could probably run across the playground with his eyes squeezed shut and still manage to run up every step and dive down every slide. And, you know… he'd probably scrape himself up on the woodchips if he did that, but for just two or three fleeting seconds, it might be fun.

Mmm… No. He's having second thoughts about the woodchips. He'd rather have squishy rubber underfoot (or even just grass). Woodchips can pierce skin. They aren't safe. And they're not all that wheelchair-friendly either, which no one in this town seems to think about as much as he and Betty do. There's a reason he applied for a part-time job at the Learnatorium instead of volunteering at the school.

Well. A few reasons. But the illusion of choice lifts his spirits on some of his worse days.

Gary lingers at the edge of a crosswalk. It's gray, gray, gray this afternoon. Not rainy, but threateningly close. The clouds leer downward, erasing shadows from the sidewalk. Gary rocks from heels to toes and back again, waiting for the red hand firm and staring back from him to turn into a welcoming white Cross signal. Does the little glowing figure who lives inside the signal box ever feel like he's drifting through a void? Marching endlessly, stopping often, and never advancing where he'd like to go?

It's Saturday. 7 pm. There aren't many cars out on the weekend, especially since not a lot of people have a reason to stray near the elementary school in the summer. Including him, which is why he walked right past it. Sentimental he may be, but the man he's searching for only works at the school… He won't be there today.

Cars roll past, their tires slick and firm against the street. Gary presses the signal button twice (in case the first push doesn't take) and stares at his reflection in the mounted mirror on the crossing post. It's a big, round mirror, likely put there to help drivers see around the corners, so it's probably unsafe of him to stand directly in front of it, but… in that moment, Gary realizes he doesn't know how long it's been since he last looked himself over in a mirror. Properly, anyway. He doesn't need to very often. The short spikes in his hair don't require much attention (especially because he usually wears a hat). Thanks to his mild genie powers (probably? Maybe? Unclear), he's never had to deal with acne. Every now and then he adds a little eyeliner to his look, but it really depends on the day.

It's… it's been a few months since the last time he did. That stuff runs when you cry. It would give his thoughts away.

Still, Gary grimaces at the face staring back at him now. How long has he looked like a zombie in the mirror? Heavy circles cling beneath his eyes. Is that how Ed Leadly saw him when he came in today? No one he'd believe had authority; no one to take too seriously? (Actually, this adds up. Gary spent last night sleeping on the Learnatorium couch.)

The white walking figure on the crossroad sign blinks on.

I've really grown up. Did I really use to cross this busy street without adult supervision when I was a kid?

Thunder sneers overhead, though the lightning's yet to show its face. Gary keeps his thumbs in the backpack straps. He didn't need to check the address in a phone book. Everyone knows where to find 4158 Woodnick Lane. It's outlived just about everyone in Dimmsdale. It maybe always will.

Gary's halfway there when raindrops start plinking down. They sizzle on his hands. He glances up. Then, yanking the backpack over his head, he breaks into a run. Burn the witch, he thinks snidely, and immediately feels a swell of guilt. Betty, before she lost her memories, always was good at brushing off his self-deprecating thoughts. He brings up the old mantras, playing them through his head as his shoes smack the sidewalk and cars chug, their windshield wipers flinging droplets his direction.

"If you wouldn't say it to a sad child's face, don't say it to yourself."

The rain leaves bubbly welts across his hands. Gary huffs, sprinting for all he's worth, and leaps on a big cement planter just to avoid the gutter spray splash from a car rolling by. His skin throbs, hands thrusting their weird mix of human and genie cells into repairing what damage the water did. Over and over, again and again… one scalding patch of skin at a time. And it looks good as new, until it touches water again.

[Cnt’d - FFN and AO3 links at top]

#Fairly OddParents #FOP #Denzel Crocker #Happy Peppy Gary #Gary and Betty #Big Crock #ridwriting #130 Prompts #fic announcement #apparently art #We're Pixies!#FAIRIES!

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batwritings · 2 years

Note

Same anon 3 times in a row who keeps forgetting to read, Schlatt for that req please, I am so sorry dude/gen

Hello! No worries at all friend, I really appreciate that you took the time to go back and read over those rules actually. And please believe me when I say I'd absolutely love to write for Q and Wilbur in this way, I just really want to respect their boundaries ; w ; Absolutely no hate meant to those who do write for Wilbur or Q in this way! That being said, what you do in your spare time to substitute Schlatt's name is out of my control once I post this if you catch my drift. ;) Enjoy~!

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

"God you look so fucking handsome like this," Schlatt hummed, watching you grind yourself against his thigh. The man swore he could probably watch you do this for hours and not once get tired of seeing you fall apart in his lap. "You gettin' close again pretty boy?"

"Y-yes Sir," you whimper, thighs quivering where they were clenching onto the ram's. Your face was a bright shade of red as you could feel the wet spot on his slacks that you'd made. Then again, by this point in this little edging session, you couldn't bring yourself to care all that much.

"And you think you should get to come this time don'tcha?" Schlatt mocks, almost cruelly. The whine you give him in response is all the answer he could ever need. Only once you start ramping up the speed of your hips do you hear his firm, "Stop."

On command do you still yourself, head falling forward against the ram's shoulder. Normally you'd be clinging to him, arms wrapped around his neck to really take in his scent. But his favorite tie binding your arms behind you made that all the more difficult.

"Let's see, what's that put you at now sweet boy?" Schlatt asks, leaning back and bouncing his knee lightly. You knew somewhere in your lust clouded brain that if you didn't give him an answer, you truly wouldn't be cumming tonight.

"S-seven Sir," you fumble out weakly.

"Such a good boy," the hybrid coos, tilting your chin up to meet his golden-eyed gaze. He winks his left eye, a silent queue without breaking the dynamic. Slowly, you wink back, but with just enough of a break to let Schlatt know it was time for your finale. "Let's get you that reward huh?"

Calloused thumbs apply gentle pressure to your new nipples. There wasn't much sensation there, but it was faint enough with your oversensitive skin that you could feel the sparks of pleasure dancing across your chest. You resume rocking your hips with newfound vigor, a desperate effort to reach your climax.

"Close, cl-close Sir!" You cry, barely holding yourself upright at this point. In all honesty it was a surprise you'd look back on when you were more coherent that you were able to warn him about your oncoming orgasm.

With a sharp snap of his fingers, Schlatt utters a single word: "Cum." And cum you do, crying out, nearly sobbing as pleasure wracks your body from the top of your head to soles of your feet. All the while you can hear the muffled praises your Dom provides over the fuzz in your head as you fall from your peak.

Schlatt is quick to hold you steady, the restraint not giving you much in the way of balance after such a heavy climax. "Good boy Y/N," he hums, rubbing your arms to stimulate your senses just enough to keep you present.

Your fuzzy head only provides a small whine as you bury your face in his chest. The ram pets your head as he gently undoes the restraints that bind your wrists back. He's soft in rubbing feeling back into them, slowly working the stiffness out of your arms. It's such a stark contrast to the near dictator attitude he had before his country, you swore nobody would believe you if you told them this is the Schlatt you knew.

"You doin' okay pretty boy?" The hybrid man asks, tilting your chin to meet your gaze.

You nod lightly, as you get wrapped up in your favorite blanket to go for cleanup.

"Never better."

#bat writes #anon reqs #schlatt smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut

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shiroi---kumo · 7 months

Text

Kumo gets cloudnapped way too often and Kaze doesn't like it. He's stressed. The man is stressed. Please stop stealing his Other. It's rude and it's very stressful. So people (Chaos) can't steal him if he keeps him close.

In reflection of Kumo always clinging to Kaze: X || X

#final fantasy unlimited #ffu #ff:u #final fantasy #kaze #kuroki kaze #kaze kuroki #kumo #kumo shiroi #shiroi kumo #makenshi #g! white cloud's scribbles [[ mun's art ]]#g! the last cloud prince #g! may your aim be true #drifting clouds || queue #// my brain is in finish old things mode #// so it's going through the WIP

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silentmagi · 7 months

Text

Monday Blues

More musical mayhem from Class 1-A, with special effects provided by some helpful classmates.

Ao3

Having narrowly spared Momo from a violent riot from the classmates that were upset over the kiss denial, Ochako and Tsuyu stepped onto the stage. The brunette smiled as she leaned in to kiss Tsu on the cheek and smiled hopefully. As the greenette gave her a fond smile, and a nod, Ochako let out a little giggle and hugged her tightly.

“We do not have as much production value as them, kero, but this is a fun song for something we have all gone through,” Tsuyu explained as Ochako went to get the other microphone from behind the curtain where the previous singers hadn’t emerged from, “Yaomomo, could you queue up Monday Blues?”

Whatever response that the hostess of the show was going to make was cut off by a squeak from backstage, and a blushing Ochako emerging from the curtains, microphone in hand. At Tsuyu’s look, she turned even redder, and seemed on the edge of floating away.

Recognizing the expression, Tsuyu stepped up and hugged her close. Stroking her hair softly, the music began playing, a light and peppy beat underscored with the sound of rain against a metal roof. “Wake up in the mornin’ and I pull the covers over our heads,” she teased, getting a cheer from the audience that she ignored in favor of Ochako’s blush continuing to grow. “Hey- OH!”

The poor frog girl was now floating away while the cheeky gravity manipulator taunted “Week is starting, week is starting.”

“We gotta get it movin’,” she continued pushing off the ceiling to drift towards her girlfriend. “But I’d rather stay here instead.”

“Hey, HEY!” she cheered as Ochako took pity and let her drop down, catching her in her arms as she teased again.

“School is calling, school is calling.”

Once Tsuyu was back on her feet, Ochako seemed to fret over the tied ponytail. “Your hair’s a disaster, don’t know what to do,” there were some chuckles from the audience, remembering the few times that Tsuyu had arrived with a new hairstyle… if you could call it that. “But we need to move faster to make it through. These crazy mornings have got me confused.”

Tsu took up the teasing this time, softly singing as she popped up over Ochako’s shoulders, getting her to look at her back and forth a couple times. “Clock is racing, kero. Time is wasting. Minds in circles, brains are spacing.”

While the music swelled, Ochako gave Tsu a playful peck on the lips before pushing away and dancing around the stage randomly, while Tsuyu raced off stage, the two voices joining harmoniously. “Everywhere that we go, Everything that we do. We can’t shake these Monday blues.”

Tsu returned to the stage with a map in hand, a pith helmet on her head, and a compass in her other hand, while a faint glow came from offstage and another helmet flew towards Ochako, who caught it and placed it on her head. “Cause some days, we can’t find a way out of this haze… Hope we’ll be okay,” the two continued, coming together to clutch to each other and Ochako pointing to a random point on the map.

Ochako pulled away, shaking her head as she clutched the helmet and the music faded slightly to bring up the sound of the rain. “Just can’t seem to get it right, a cloud is hanging over me, HEY!” she cried out as Shoto was recruited to make an actual cloud form over her and the cold rain fell down. “Rain is falling! Rain is falling!”

Putting the helmet back on, she seemed to gaze off into the distance, subtly telling Shoto to knock it off. Thankfully, for his continued existence his partner took the cue. “I wish it was the weekend,” she continued, turning towards Tsu, who seemed to be lost in staring at the wet gravity girl, “Cause you know that’s where I’d rather be… Hey… Hey!”

“Friday’s calling, Friday’s calling,” she chanted while tapping the froggy girl on the nose, seemingly getting her brain to successfully reboot itself.

From the audience there was a cry of “WOO! DATE NIGHT!” but the singers decided to ignore Mina in favor of continuing their song and getting vengeance later. For they knew what was to come.

“I wonder what things won’t go our way,” Tsu sang, her face looking darker as she lowered her head, shadows falling over her eyes. “Or if we’ll make it through the day.”

Sniffing as she looked up to Ochako, tears shimmering in on her cheeks as she let her real feelings echo into the words. “I hope that these feelings won’t lead me astray.

Ochako took her hand, and gently kissed it before singing again. “We’ll get through it, we can do it. With our class, we can pull through it.”

The heartfelt smile shining back between the faces brightened even more as the lights dimmed down, revealing the two of them lifting up off the ground as pinpricks of lights formed as a starfield behind them. “Everywhere that we go, and everything that we do, we can’t shake these Monday blues,” the pair sang, drifting over a pile of pillows that flew out of the backstage at a rapid pace.

“Cause some days, we can’t find a way out of this haze,” the pair sang, gazing into each other’s eyes as if they had forgotten entirely about the audience watching them. “Hope we’ll be okay…”

Ochako released them over the pillows, with Tsuyu scooping her into a bridal carry as they fell down. The gravity girl’s line of “Just when I feel like it might come crashing down,” being very fitting.

However, Tsuyu lifting her chin to look her in the eyes was adorable just before they vanished into the pillow pile. “We can count on our friends to help bring our mood around!”

The pair laughed as they sang, lost in the sea of comfortable cushions, “With our class, we’ll pull through it.”

“Everything that we learn,” the pair continued singing, flinging the pillows into the audience, completely not like they were starting a pillow fight or anything, “And everyone that we save. We’ll say goodbye to the Monday blues. Cause we’ve got our class you see, and heroes are what we’ll be!”

“Everywhere that we go, with everything that we do,” the pair continued leaning so that their foreheads were lightly touching, and they shared a microphone between them. “The world feels fresh and new. Cause we’ve got our friends with us. And those blues can bite our dust!”

The pair bowed to the audience, getting cheers as the lights came up. After the clapping died down, they noticed that the audience were armed with pillows and smiling evilly. Mina’s voice rose from the middle of the chaos. “We will spare you, if you tell us what you saw backstage.”

The pair seemed to consider their options, holding a quick council before they nodded. Taking a deep breath before lifting up the mic and singing together again. “Izu and Kyo hugging backstage K-I-S-”

The lights and their mics went out on them, as Momo walked out centered in a spotlight. “Wasn’t that a great song from the adorable couple? Tsuyu and Ochako have really kept the momentum of this show going. But we should keep moving! Who would like to go next?”

“Excuse me, Yayorozu,” Shoto asked as he came on stage wearing a blue silk salwar pants that puffed out from his ankles to hips, with a matching bedlah top that revealed his midriff and navel, with the sewn-in off-the-shoulder straps revealing his developing biceps. “I believe it is our turn next. Shall we prepare?

Momo looked at the boy, then the audience, then the boy again. “We will start the next song in a moment, for now, please feel free to use the facilities, or get yourself a drink. Uraraka-san, could I have some assistance from you backstage?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before grabbing the gravity girl by the shirt collar and dragging her behind the curtain, Tsuyu hopping along before pausing at the threshold and waving the audience goodbye.

#Ochako Uraraka #Tsuyu Asui #Mina Ashido #Momo Yaoyorozu #Sweet Duets #Class 1-A #Story #My Writing #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #BNHA #MHA

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ddagent · 1 year

Note

INTO THE FIRE, hot chocolate

John/Delenn | Professor/Coffee Shop AU | FR12 | 1,775 words Professors Mir and Sheridan share a hot chocolate together one cold December afternoon.

Shortly before four, Professor Delenn Mir left the Humanities building in search of tea – and Professor Sheridan.

A few months before, she had been ahead of Professor Sheridan – John, as the barista scribbled on his takeaway cup – and he had been lamenting that the coffee machine at Babylon Brew, the campus coffee spot, was not working. Knowing full well the pain of marking undergraduate papers with little caffeine, Delenn had ordered both herself and Professor Sheridan a takeaway cup of sama le’a – orange tea. She had considered it a safe bet; Sheridan was well-known to have a bowlful of oranges on his desk for himself and any vitamin deprived students.

She had returned to Babylon Brew the next day to find that Sheridan had bought her a mocha with chocolate shavings.

Continue Reading Below or Read at AO3

So began their curious ritual. Every day, depending on who was done with their marking or classes first, they would order for the other. Delenn would order them tea; John, coffee. Occasionally they branched out into baked goods. After a particularly nasty meeting with the Dean of Students, Delenn had paid for two large iced lemon cookies to accompany John’s takeaway cup. A few weeks before, when Delenn had worked through lunch, John had paid for a sandwich to accompany her double espresso. So many coffees. So many cups of tea. Yet they had never once shared a drink together. It wasn’t for lack of trying: they stole moments together in corridors, after meetings. But John was working on a new book and Delenn had four doctoral students who were testing her patience.

So, four o’clock it was.

Today, Delenn swept across the quad with a smile on her face. Despite the rolling clouds beckoning in the early evening and the slight bite to the December air, Professor Mir couldn’t help but beam at any soul who walked past her. She was late today, which meant that John would be buying. Delenn could stand behind him in line; admire the broad line of his shoulders through the coat he wore, dark strands brushing the collar. She could stare openly at his warm smile towards the barista, the truly dreadful pun that would leave them both laughing in hearty embarrassment. Then Delenn could witness him stand at the counter, holding court as he waited for his name to be called. John wouldn’t check his phone. He would watch the coffee shop, gaze drifting from stranger to stranger until settling upon her. Their eyes would meet, heat pooling low in Delenn’s belly, as the world fell away.

Then John would offer his takeaway cup in salute and off into the cold he would go.

But as Delenn entered Babylon Brew that afternoon, she did not catch sight of John waiting ahead of her. Lips forming into a thin line, Delenn reluctantly joined the queue. Her eyes darted around the coffee shop, trying to find John in the throng of harassed students and caffeine deprived academics. But there was no infectious smile; no raspy laugh. Disappointment flooded through Delenn as she approached the counter. Perhaps I am earlier than I thought, she wondered, drawing upon the hope as she was called to the front. The peppermint tea, today, I think. With a slice of lemon drizzle cake.

“Professor Sheridan’s already been in,” announced the barista, quickly dashing all of Delenn’s hopes. “He bought you both a hot chocolate.”

Delenn nodded, offering a thin smile to the barista. “Thank you. I will wait—”

“—he’s over by the window.”

Her head jerked in the direction of the window overlooking the gardens; the view now cleared of departing students. There sat John. Coat off. Scarf abandoned. Cheeks slightly pink from the change in temperature. He raised his cup – a proper, porcelain cup – in her direction. There was a second mug in front of him. Two plates. An empty chair. Delenn barely thanked the barista again before she rushed to join John. He rose as she approached, pulling out her chair for her. Like this was a date. This was a date.

“I thought it was about time we actually sat down to drink,” John said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

John’s grin grew impossibly wide. Delenn’s face split in two as she fumbled with the ties of her long coat, wrapped tight to ward off the winter chill. The coffee shop felt ridiculously warm – but perhaps that was just the presence of John so close; his heated touch as he helped remove her coat from her shoulders. Delenn felt his breath on the curve of her neck as his hands slid the wool from her form and draped it across the back of her chair. His gaze refused to leave hers as he re-took the seat opposite.

John gestured towards the two cups and plates. “I overheard you talking to the barista the other day that you’d never tried hot chocolate. Thought we should remedy that.” He pointed at the cup. “I went for whipped cream and chocolate shavings to give you the full hot chocolate experience. We also have some mince pies.”

Delenn stared curiously at the miniature pies placed in front of her, dusted in sugar with a holly leaf embossed atop the shortcrust pastry. “I have heard of these. They are the…the smaller form of the shepherd and the cottage?”

Her date stared, confused, before realisation sunk in. John shook his head good-naturedly. “No, no, it’s not like a shepherd or cottage pie. These have mincemeat in them.” Delenn raised an eyebrow. She thought that was the main ingredient in those previous pies. John just chuckled. “They used to have meat in them, but now they have dried fruit and spices – sometimes even a dash of brandy depending on who makes them. Grandma Sheridan used to get rid of half a bottle every Christmas.”

“I see.” Delenn lifted her fork to break the pastry into two. The filling seemed innocuous enough. Taking a tentative bite, she was surprised at the decadent flavours. The pastry was buttery and crumbled upon the plate; the filling was full of cinnamon and nutmeg. Delenn took another eager bite. “Despite your perplexing attitude towards naming, these are most agreeable.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” John took a bite of his own, using his fingers rather than a fork. Sugar dusted his fingertips; his dark shirt caught a few crumbs. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “You’re from Minbar, aren’t you?” Delenn nodded. She had taught at the University of Tuzanor for several years before coming to Babylon. “I teach a few kids from Yedor. They were telling the class the other day about the Solstice celebrations. Do you have any foods that remind you of this time of year?”

Delenn nodded, thinking instantly of her father cooking on the second day of the Solstice celebrations; their home filled with the aroma of spiced nuts and fruits. “We have…parcels made out of very thin pastry, dusted in sugar, and filled with a filling of our choosing. Fruit, nuts, chocolate – they are made together, baked together, and given to someone we love.” A blush rose high on Delenn’s cheeks as she imagined making the kai’tan and offering one to John. “It is considered an important Solstice tradition.”

“They sound great. You’ll have to make some for me.” A pause. Eyes met across the table before their gaze quickly fell away. John cleared his throat. “And I can make some of Grandma Sheridan’s mince pies.”

The thought of exchanging recipes and traditions and words of affection filled Delenn with joy. She chased it with her first sip of hot chocolate. It was more bitter than she had expected; the dark chocolate shavings cutting through the wisp of cream that clung to her top lip. The drink itself was not overly sweet but rich in warmth. Across from her, John chuckled at the picture she made with a cream moustache. His hand reached out to wipe the foam from her face but he hesitated. Delenn angled her mouth closer to his outstretched fingers. A gentle thumb swept across her top lip, before lingering on the delicate skin. Delenn could not help it. She drew John’s thumb between her lips and sucked. His blue eyes widened at the contact; a sharp intake of breath lost in the rush of the coffee shop as afternoon classes finished.

No one noticed as Professor Sheridan leant over the table to press his lips against Professor Mirs. No one noticed the way he cradled her chin as his lips – sweet and bitter – caressed hers. It was only the splutter of the cappuccino machine that prevented Delenn’s tongue from exploring the taste of John even further.

“We should have a drink,” John said, drawing in a ragged breath as he returned to his seat.

“We are having a drink.”

“An alcoholic drink.”

Delenn leaned forward, relishing this game of linguistic misunderstandings and the frustration and arousal it summoned in John. “Minbari do not drink.”

“Dinner, then,” John put forward, leaning back and taking a victorious sip of hot chocolate. “I want to see you over candlelight, Delenn. I want to eat a meal with you that isn’t a sandwich or a slice of cake. I want to close down a restaurant talking about everything and nothing with you.” He lifted his cup once more to his lips. “Dinner.”

“Or breakfast.” Accompanied by a twinkle in her eye and a sultry tone, the offer of breakfast left John spluttering his hot chocolate all over his shirt. Grimacing, Delenn quickly offered him the handful of napkins from the table and the one over. “My apologies, John. I should not have said that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, dabbing at his shirt. “Just thought all my Christmases had come at once, that’s all. Why don’t we start with dinner and see where the night takes us?”

Delenn beamed. “Sounds perfect.”

After John had mopped up his hot chocolate, the two finished their drinks and talked at great length about their respective festive traditions. As a group of students hovered nearby, wanting their table, John and Delenn took their cue to head out for the evening. They found themselves in a small bistro just off campus where John, indeed, got his wish to close down the place, the pair talking about anything and everything. As for Delenn, the next time John bought her coffee, it was early in the morning, from the coffee shop down the street from his home, while she waited in his bed.

It was the best cup yet.

#john x delenn #babylon 5 #b5fic #dd: prompts #ship: john x delenn

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spikyhairedsilhouette · 7 months

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Cerunnos.

Click. His cupped hands cradle the unsheathed flame, as she teases the tip of the dampened cigarette. Spectral gaze fixed upon her seductive sway, he allows himself to be hypnotized, eyes boring into the tiny blaze until tears begin to blur his line of sight. His cheeks hollow, his breath hitching as he inhales the embers the way one reels in a fish – slow and controlled, leaning forward to give way before lurching back to haul in the catch. Head reclining, he can just see the stars sprinkled in between the bare branches of the overgrown trees like spots dappling the hide of a fawn. He exhales a few distorted rings of smoke, each climbing higher than the former, and watches them vanish in succession, a queue of souls marching for the heavens.

Sticks and stones crumble and skid as he trods barefoot through the wood, the soft earth cushioning his every step, as though carving a pathway just for him. He takes another drag from his cigarette, this time holding the smoke in his mouth until he rounds a bend and briefly beholds the mecca of his pilgrimage, a gargantuan harvest moon. Smoke streaming from his nostrils, he closes his eyes and again drops his head back, bathing his face in the gleam. He continues to stride blindly forward, following the cool current of his lunar lover, her pallid rays skimming his skin like the silk of his robe as it gently falls to the forest floor.

He stumbles, his legs beginning to feel weak, knees faltering as he steps over a large root breaching the soil. His blood seems to thicken with every step, menthol chilling in his veins as his head begins to pound, skull splintering into thirds while his jaw protrudes as if broken, the bridge of his nose collapsing as though crushed. He clenches his fist around the still-lit cigarette, wincing as it singes his palm before dropping onto a smooth, flat rock, extinguished by a cloven hoof with a soft clap.

Standing erect under the blistering bite of his beloved mother, he wails in both grief and ecstasy, horns bursting through the crown of his head like the limbs of the surrounding trees. The harsh snap of mutating sinew echoes across the thicket as his knees bend backward like the hind hocks of an elk, a thick shroud of hair covering his legs and stretching up to his navel. He grunts in either pain or pleasure, unable to determine which, the sound bellowing deep and bestial like a demon beckoned. A demon... or a god.

He huffs rhythmically, his doe-like eyes blinking open, pupils dilating to reflect the night sky, a pair of convex, occult mirrors. As his breath quickens, his hands join to perform a series of complex mudras, his inhales levitating his satyric shape off the ground and his exhales suspending him in the air. With a final breath in, he finds himself facing his goddess, a transmuted black silhouette against a milky, dimpled canvas. He holds the thinning air in his lungs until his heart thumps wildly, beating against his chest as though trapped within a burning building. Tension rises in his throat, looking for a way to escape, the pressure culminating under the base of his freshly formed antlers, threatening to uproot them already. Trembling violently, he swallows the urge to exhale, emitting a small pop as he shatters into a cloud of dust, celestial motes drifting across the sky.

#creature feature #happy halloween i guess #idk wtf this is #spikyhairedsilhouette #cerunnos

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mack-montresor · 4 days

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A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. Attached is a canister containing poison (.5 oz). Inside is a note from Cain Gunn. The note reads "Come back to me. -C.G."

By the time it came, Mack was past the tipping point. The blaze was raging, the arena collapsing in on itself as they seemed prone to do, and she was driven from the flames with the same kind of panic of the mutts, the animals fearful of fire. She reached forward, trying to pull herself along, fingers curling around the ride queue pole. But it was hot, the metal searing. Mack howled, singed and whimpering, stumbling forward with a blindness that left her clouded.

She was afraid. Mack's head whipped left, then right, then left again, so confused that the beeping of the parachute was missed entirely. Instead, Mack tripped over the canister, stumbling to the ground. On her hands and knees, she crawled, though now thankfully beneath the smoke, grasping back at the gift without recognizing who it was from or for.

A bottle of liquid, but it was the wrong color to be water. Still, she felt the spike of fear, her throat closing, and she fell back onto her ass, the vile of poison rolling along the ground. Why would someone send this to her? Did they want her to die? Were they trying to kill her?

Mack's hands shook as she unfolded the note, the words striking clearly at her core.

Come back to me. -C.G.

Mack whined, vocalizing without words. She'd promised she'd try to win, but now? Now she wasn't sure she would.

#135 #sponsor: cain #sponsor

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callcenterstech · 1 year

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How Cloud Call Center Software Helps You Scale Industry

Cloud based call center solutions developing robust conversation channels collectively with your subscriber base is basically of managing an positive business. While the requirement for income departments is indisputable, deciding on the one which suits collectively with your vision for boom is critical for this for everybody its supposed purpose. Since all companies, regardless of their size, strive to scale operations as hastily as you perhaps can, one necessary consideration is to make certain that thecall center setupdoesn’t be a hurdle alongside the way.

This is the placecloud based call center solutionsconsists of a definitive area over its on-premise counterpart. That will assist you make an trained choice, here is all you want to analyze about cloud based totally call center solutions.

What is a cloud call center software?

Cloud based call center solutions that’s placed round the cloud is definitely a product made to deal with commercial enterprise conversations on the smartphone besides resorting to bodily hardware and paraphernalia to useful resource conversation channels. Using cloud contact center software, your patron care group is designed for incoming calls making outgoing calls. They may also additionally music the vital element metrics, performance, and rent computerized scripts for quicker response occasions.

To do this, Cloud based call center solutions are equipped with two-way conversation functionalities and assisting facets for instance voicemail message, SMS, overlooked call solutions, transport tracking, and software to utility calling. These software program packages consist of effortless integration skills for e-commerce platforms, CRMs, chat systems, and advertising and marketing software program programs. They may additionally additionally replicate indispensable metrics, like a caller’s buy history, preceding phone calls, chat transcripts, notes, Ect.

How does a cloud call center software program work?

Here’s how inbound call center software program works –

• The first step is to set up a customer-facing number. This is the wide variety clients can call for enquiries.

• The calls touchdown on this wide variety are diverted to a digital number. Every digital variety has its personal particular call go with the flow connected to it.

• Create a personalized call drift and IVR greeting for more desirable person experience.

• Once important points such as language choice and nature of question are captured over IVR, the call is routed to the proper agents. In case all dealers are busy, the caller stays in a queue.

• Once the purchaser is related with an agent, they attempt to get to the bottom of the question at hand.

• The whole dialog and the agent undertaking is up to date on the aid ticket software. A question that is resolved is marked as closed. Otherwise, it stays open.

Why must your call center go to the cloud?

The flexibility, versatility, scalability, and affordability supplied lend Cloud based call center solutions having a sure area towards your competitors. Cloud based call center company enterprise structures find the money for businesses the blessings of a exceptionally wonderful conversation funnel with minimal expenditure on deployment and implementation. Here, you have to pay for which you select, barring any cost when it comes to renovation and upgrades.

On-premise vs. cloud call center solutions

On-premises andcloud-based call center softwareprogram are two of the most famous fashions being used today. This is a contrast backward and ahead that will assist you recognize the difference:

On-premises call center

As cautioned by using its call, all of the conversation paraphernalia – hardware, software, infrastructure – is to set up interior your office. The verbal exchange is facilitated thru PBX or IP PBX servers. The commercial enterprise is completely to blame for installation, upgrade, and renovation of this setup and all kinds of its features are managed internally.

cloud-based call middle software program

Cloud-based call center software, however, is positioned round the cloud, and customers have get admission to to this precise provider on their personal mobiles or pc making use of an application. This mannequin relies upon on get admission to to the net to supply seamless conversation offerings to the subscribers.

How the two fashions fare vis-a-vis one another

Set-Up

Creating on-premisesCall Centermay be a time-intensive technique that requires you to surely surely purchase the hardware, invulnerable licenses, setup infrastructure, and deploy well matched software.

Setting up cloud call center software program applications overlap with putting in a deposit card utility on your computer. They come in plug and play performance and require no setup time whatsoever.

Affordability

On-premises setups consist of prohibitively fee which consists of buying hardware, licenses, and software, in addition to buying extra house to guide this difficult set-up. Additionally for this one-time investment, you would possibly additionally want to component in the charge of normal protection and upgrade.

Forcloud-based solutions, your predominant funding is inside a reliable internet connection, apart from the constant charge in accordance to usage. This makes up about extra ordinary routine costs, on the other hand in decrease amounts.

Scalability

It is no longer effortless to modulate a present day on-premises call center setup. Any scaling from operations requires extra hardware and feasible changes to the servers and software. In state of affairs you have to minimize earlier than long, you are taking part in surplus hardware.

Scaling or customizing cloud-based call center software program applications are an inconvenience-free, seamless system very little various from managing person money owed in your famous video streaming subscription.

Flexibility

Your telephone help crew have to be bodily existing at work so that you can manage calls with an on-premise setup.

However,cloud contact center solutionsprovide the association to function remotely. Agents have get admission to to the setup and reply calls everywhere as prolonged as there is a working internet connection.

Reliability

Any breakdowns inside the tools may additionally carry the functioning of the on-premises call middle to a grinding halt.

With call center software, you are in a position to remove the risk of connectivity and call high-quality issues via simply buying a net connection with lots of bandwidth to useful resource your operations.

Call center software program for enterprises

Every organisation requires a consumer care branch to promote wholesome relationships and simplify crm. Here’s how answering offerings agency software program ought to be a ideal fit:

Minimal downtime

The PBX designs encompass cozy the intention of enterprise-user conversation for any prolonged time, it consists of higher dangers and vulnerability due to the fact of failures, breakdowns, and additionally the ensuing upkeep processes. A cloud-located solution, however, poses no such pitfalls.

With inbound answering offerings enterprise software program and outbound answering offerings employer software, you are capable to be certain of the ongoing consequences of each you and your clients 99.96% of times.

Better patron provider administration

Withcall center software,, you are in a position to take care of inbound calls inner a quick, efficient, and expert manner, even if your quantity is high. This surely is thanks to the software’s functionality to route calls in line with the area of interest from the product/services or even the nature from the query, permitting the high-quality dealers to deal with the customers’ issues.

All the small print exchanged over these interactions are straight away up to date inside the database, facilitating a rapid change between agents, ought to the requirement for it arise.

Disaster recuperation

The whole manner of scaling up operations can regularly be fraught with impending challenges, most of which can also convey your operations to some useless stop. Even when that occurs, cloud-based call center software program is continuously on the function seamlessly as prolonged as you have a purposeful internet connection. This herbal aspect of catastrophe healing helps produce a semblance of normalcy even whilst you focal point all of your powers into mitigating the lurking obstacle.

Enhanced safety

Data protection is truly a sizeable problem for these companies today, regardless of their size, structure, or proportions of operations. The near-impenetrable protection measures of the answering offerings organization software program stop dropping client or inner organization records due to the fact of unintended screw ups or deliberate breaches.

All of the imperative statistics is securely stored in the cloud backup. If necessary, the employer enforces improved safety protocols at no extra charges whatsoever.

Call center software program – a device with massive viable

Regardless of what your enterprise goals, needs, or boundaries are, there may be an best cloud verbal exchange answer that may additionally without problems suit in.Cloud-based solutionsare now not solely viewed do away with to furnish patron care trip componen excellence however moreover are the best device cement some client by way of continuously contacting them. It offers valuable insights on patron trip and expectations.

Besides, aspects like automation, IVR ought to be vastly high quality for monitoring Return on investment, recording patron comments, monitoring orders and confirming receipt of price on CoD orders. Also it does all of this with minimal manpower and infrastructural needs, due to the fact of the evolution of clever equipment and systems centered at imparting modern CX.

#Cloud based solutions #cloud based services #Call center software #cloud contact center solutions #cloud-based call center software #Call center

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