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marvelouslytrekking · 1 year

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Wandering Off

Pairing: Din/reader Summary: You get separated from Din and subsequently get injured. Din takes the responsibility of making sure you’re patched up Warnings: Swearing, typical violence, injury (not super descriptive) Word Count: 2673 A/N: I have been sitting on this one for awhile but here it finally is! I am so happy that we have Mando back (even if he seems to be the one needing cared for so far this season lol) As always, I suck at titles but here we are lol Also please let me know what you think by leaving a comment to make my day!

You weren’t sure how you had managed it, but you had gotten yourself separated from Din at a local market in a small town while doing a quick supply stop. You’d think a man clad in silver beskar from head to toe would be easy to locate but you had yet to be able to spot him again.

You had made a few loops of the market, hoping to run into him but you were having no luck. You were annoyed but sighed and decided to take the kid back to the ship. You and Din had an agreement that if somehow you got separated that you would make your way back to the Crest. It was better than trying to frantically find each other.

You decided to go through the forest since it would be shorter and you wouldn’t have to worry about other people on the road. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle yourself but you had chosen to leave without your blaster, which now felt like it wasn’t the best idea but you hoped that it still wouldn’t be needed.

You were making your way through the thick forest as quickly as you could, though you were starting to worry that you weren’t heading in the correct direction. You had decided to take a short break to see if you could manage to orient yourself.

It was once you had stopped that you suddenly got a very unsettled feeling. It felt like you were being watched. As soon as that thought had crossed your mind, you heard a twig snap. Your head whipped in the direction of the sound. You had hoped that maybe it had just been Din and he didn’t want to startle you, but your instincts were correct, you immediately saw the two men behind you, both with their blasters drawn.

You didn’t waste another second, you immediately broke out into a sprint. You hadn’t fully figured out exactly where you needed to go but you decided you were just going to have to deal with that afterwards. You ducked your head as you heard blaster shots hitting the trees above you. It did, however, make you aware that their orders must have been not to kill the kid, since the shots were clearly well above your head. That didn’t give you much relief as you were jumping over logs and trying not to trip on roots, though.

You had made sure you were holding the kid as close to your chest as you ran. You were consistently getting hit by small branches and you were trying to keep him from getting the small scratches that you knew were going to be covering your arms and legs.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder briefly, trying to determine where the hunters were behind you. That decision has been a mistake because you had missed the small downhill slope that had been in front of you. You let a out a yelp as suddenly you were going head over heels down the hill. You luckily were able to use your own momentum to flip yourself fully over and found yourself back upright and running but unfortunately, you felt a sharp pain in your ankle, it was clear you had managed to twist it when you tripped. There was no time to think about it and there was no point in dwelling on the pain because if you stopped you would only be damning yourself and the kid to much worse.

You realized you needed to come up with some sort of a plan, something other than just running in a zig zag and hoping that you were either faster than them or could out-last them.

Even if you were heading in the direction of the Crest, with how hot on your tail they were, you wouldn’t make it into the ship and get the ship locked back up before they caught up to you. If Din was waiting for you back at the ship, there was hope since you know he would be able to handle these men quickly with a few blaster shots but you had no way of knowing if he was there.

Your only other option was to try and lose them in the forest somehow and to wait them out but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen since so far you hadn’t been able to shake them.

It seemed like your only good option was the ship. Something told you to head slightly left so you decided you had nowhere better to go, so you started to shift your zig zags to lead you to the left.

Luckily it wasn’t much longer until you noticed the trees starting to thin and an opening was before you. You let out a sigh of relief as you saw the shiny hunk of junk sitting in the open field. Even happier yet when you noticed the ramp was down which meant he was in fact waiting for you.

“Mando!” You screamed out as loud as you could hoping he would be able to realize that something was wrong.

Another blaster shot came from behind you but this time it wasn’t as high up. You realized they were not happy knowing you had just warned the Mandalorian of their pursuit. You should have known that Din would immediately be out of the ship upon hearing you. You saw his entire body tense as you shot out of the edge of the trees and was running straight at him.

A few blaster shots came from behind you. You found yourself ducking but it didn’t matter, you suddenly yelled out when a sharp, burning pain shot out from your shoulder. You tucked the child even closer to you as you collapsed onto the ground.

You tried to turn over so you could see what was happening or to be able to get up and offer Din some help but you found yourself only causing more pain. You were left trying to determine what was happening from listening.

You heard a few more shots go off before you felt someone gently rolling you over.

“It’s over, they’re gone.” Din said softly, letting you know it was him as he gently tried to move you. You let out a few pained noises as your weight was shifted on the wound.

“Gone or dead?” You knew the answer already but you asked anyway, mainly to distract from the pain.

“Dead.” He said as he slowly pulled Grogu from your arms. You felt him reach for you and let out a few whines as Din set him on the ground so that he would be able to get a better look at your shoulder.

“Well, how bad is it?” You asked to break the silence.

“Should be fine, can you get up?” If you didn’t know him any better, you would have thought he was being cold, that he didn’t care that you had been shot, but you could hear the tension in his voice and felt the slight shake in his hands as he slowly helped you sit up and then eventually stand.

You winced as you put weight on your right ankle. Din had been paying close attention and quickly snaked his arm around you to shift the weight from your injured ankle. “I tripped at one point, must have sprained it worse than I thought.” You explained even though he didn’t ask.

He helped guide you to the ship, the kid not really struggling to keep up since you were moving quite slow. As soon as you were in, he commanded you to sit. There was no room for argument in his voice, but even if there had been you were currently too tired and in too much pain to be stubborn. You waited as he quickly made sure the ship was locked up and that you would be safe in case the two men weren’t alone.

When he was sure that the ship was properly locked down, he was back by your side with a med kit.

“I need you to take off your shirt.” He instructed. You began to try to pull it over your head, but quickly stopped when the pain was too unbearable.

“I can’t” You winced as a sharp pain shot across your shoulder when you tried to pull your shirt over your head.

“Here,” He reached out, taking the bottom of the shirt and starting to slowly pull it up.

“I’m sorry,” Din softly apologized as he noticed you tensing when he starting to move your arms. He huffed, realizing that pulling it over your head was only going to cause you more pain. Without warning he grabbed at the collar of your shirt and ripped it in half. You stared at him a little dumbfounded as he then carefully pulled each side down your arms and dropped the destroyed shirt behind you.

“You know, I liked that shirt.” You complained

“Well it was already ruined.”

You could tell that Din was inspecting all the other injuries that littered your arms. His thumb gently brushed along a particularly nasty gash that was on your upper arm. You’re not quite sure when exactly you got that one but you were sure that had to do with the amount of adrenaline that you had while trying to outlast the men.

“Looks like the trees also managed to do a good number on me.” You commented while your eyes trailed over yourself in the same way his did.

“We’ll have to get those cleaned next.” He told you before stepping behind you to get a better look at the blaster wound. He was being as careful as he could but that didn’t stop you from wincing at the sting as he worked. Any time he heard a noise of discomfort, you felt him tense and a soft apology would slip past his lips.

You found yourself focusing on his non-dominant hand that was spread across the top of your back and over your neck, keeping you steady as his other hand worked on cleaning and caring for your shoulder. You couldn’t help but notice the heat that radiated from his gloveless hand, the flinches and tension in his fingers, or the soft way he would brush them back and forth, in a comforting motion when your discomfort would be made known.

Once he was finished with your shoulder, there was a slight moment, where neither of you moved. His hand that had done the work to patch up the injury, was resting further down your arm and his other was sliding up and down your back soothingly, eventually making its way to running along the bandage, as if inspecting his work, or possibly convincing himself that you were okay.

Finally he broke the moment and pulled away, coming to the other side of you. Now his focus was on the smaller cuts. He still didn’t say much as he meticulously cleaned the largest cut on your arm.

“I think this is going to need a few stitches,” He finally broke the silence. You looked down and with the dried blood cleaned away, he was right.

“Okay, I trust you.” You gave him permission to proceed. He gave you a nod before prepping everything to give you the needed stitches.

You had watched him give himself stitches on multiple occasions, had even helped him a handful of times, and yet you had never seen him so hesitant to start. He looked back up at you one more time, you held his gaze, or what you assumed to be his gaze for a few seconds before giving him a nod, hoping to ease whatever discomfort he currently had about closing your wound.

Another beat passed before he turned his attention back to your arm. Like before, you found yourself focusing on his other hand, the arm that had a light but firm hold on your arm to keep you steady. You tried your best to keep any pain to yourself so as to not make Din’s discomfort any worse, but you couldn’t stop a few pained whines from slipping past your lips. Each time, Din paused, looked up at you and apologized, he would wait for you to indicate that he could continue before he would.

Once the stitches were finished, he gently added a bandage. “Now I just need to clean all these smaller cuts and then I would like to take a look at your ankle.”

“I can clean all these, you don’t have to.” You told him softly. You knew your legs were probably just as covered in cuts as well and figured you could clean both your arms and legs on your own.

“I’ve got them” Was all he said before grabbing a disinfect wipe and carefully cleaning each cut. Most of them were of no consequence, but that didn’t seem to matter to the Mandalorian, he made sure they were each thoroughly cleaned and if any of them needed, properly bandaged.

“Thank you,” You said softly as he finally finished the last cut on your arm.

You got a nod in response, before he crouched down close to the floor. He grabbed the calf of your injured leg, pulling it closer to himself. He looked up at you again, clearly waiting for permission to take a look at your ankle. You gave him another nod before watching as he carefully rolled your pants up. You and him winced at the same time as you noticed the very swollen ankle, which was already bruising. You knew it was from continuing to run after the initial injury but it wasn’t like you had had a choice.

“This may take awhile to heal” Din pointed out.

“I’ll be fine,” You insisted, “Nothing I can’t walk off”

You could feel the annoyed look Din was giving you, even if you couldn’t see his face.

“You will be doing no such thing.”

“You can’t put me on bed rest.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“You bet your ass I can”

You wanted to object but you knew that he was being quite serious and would not take you being stubborn well, especially after you almost got yourself killed.

“Fine, I promise to go easy, just wrap it up and then we can get off this stupid rock.” You sighed.

Din gave a satisfied noise before pulling his focus back to your ankle. He carefully wrapped the ankle, making sure it was tight enough to reduce the swelling and to make sure to stabilize it but not too tight as to be uncomfortable or to cause the blood flow to be stopped.

“Are there any other injuries I’ve missed?” He asked when he finished.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then let’s get you to bed,” Din stood up and offered his arm for you. You carefully stood up, keeping your weight on your good ankle. As soon as you were standing, Din snaked his arm under you and helped gently lead you towards your bunk.

“Do you need anything else?” He asked after you were settled into the blankets.

“No, I think you’ve covered everything,” You gave him an appreciative smile, “Thank you”

“Anytime.” He replied, “Though, if you were better at following my directions, things like this wouldn’t happen.”

“Are you seriously blaming me for getting shot?” You huffed.

“Well I do remember telling you to grab your blaster before leaving, and to not wander off.” He pointed out.

“I just don’t think it's very kind to blame me, the very injured person, right now.” You pouted.

“Fine but once you’re healed, we will be continuing this conversation.”

“Of course we will” You playfully rolled your eyes. While it could be annoying how overbearing Din was, after the way he had just cared for you, it was clear it was because of how much you meant to him, which made it hard to be mad at him.

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fairykazu · 5 months

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ice skating ft. childe, ayaka & amber

cws: dating: childe & ayaka, est. relationship: amber, fluff, mild cursing, implied fem bodied reader for ayaka and amber, wc for each: 1.7k, 3.3k, 1.5k

mlist | based on headcanons

childe

if you had told your past self that you're going on a date with the infamous sweetheart, ajax, you would be thinking you were going crazy. maybe even a tad delusional. but here you are sitting down on one of the wooden benches as childe helped you lace up your skates. "name, is this too uncomfortable?" he scooted back letting you wiggle your foot.

"no, it's as snug as a bug!" you replied, watching him have a sigh of relief. "okay, let me lace up the other one. is it too tight or is it okay like this one?" he pointed at the already-laced shoe.

"it's fine! are we able to be on the ice now?" you asked. ajax looked at the rink, walked to the ice and pretended to pull out a detective magnifying glass, before confirming a 'yes'. he likes to call himself the ice inspector because he was considered the best of doing so. or at least that's what his parents had told him. when he was little.

you guys were finally on the ice. unlike the girl in blue skating on the ice like she was born to and dancing so gracefully, you were like bambi. childe was teaching you to push on the other sides like a zig zag and as you were attempting just that. you lost your balance and fell on the ice. it hurts like hell but hey at least you have ice under you. "that was not as 'easy' as you made it sound, ajax." you huffed out, dramatically crossing your arms.

childe tried not to laugh as he took off his scarf and wrapped around you, you were snug again. "don't be so butthurt. it's easier for me because i grew up with it. take my hand and i'll guide you through it, okay?" he offered his hand to you, and you took it just before you two ended up interwinted on the ice. childe couldn't just help but laugh just a little bit and you joined in too.

"let's skate for real this time."

"agreed."

---

ayaka

you giggled with glee when you called your friends for a debriefing session as soon as possible. it was morning at the cat's tail with kaeya and nilou. "guys, i have a date with THE kamisato ayaka." you said, sipping your coffee. nilou gasped as kaeya rolled his eyes,

"did you really or did you have another dream again?"

"NO. it's for real this time, kae! kamisato and i. on an ice-skating date. this afternoom." you replied smugly. of course, it gets oddly silent whenever you say something big to your friends which only means one thing. they are second guessing you.... again.

nilou quirked a brow, "ice skating?" you hummed in confirmation, "yes, lulu, ice skating!" she stirred her hot chocolate with a stick as kaeya sipped his orange juice loudly, drawing your attention to him, "name, do you even know how to ice skate? last time we ice skated together, you hit the crevice of the rink, fell to your face and cried."

"in my defense, i was four when that happened. annnd yes, i do know how." nilou and kaeya shared a knowing look together before looking at you. "okay, i don't! but i kinda sort of lied to ayaka and said i do have experience with it..."

"oh my god." kaeya said with desperation as nilou pinched her nose bridge. "what if i ball it and she would never know."

nilou replied, "miss kamisato is really talented in that field, name. she would definitely know."

"for real?"

"yes."

it was noon, you still don't know how to skate, and you don't know how to tell ayaka that you were lying to her. thank god, the rink was inside a building instead of being outside. in a corner you saw a ginger offering his hand to his date, giggling, and you pray to have a moment like that with ayaka. across from that couple was ayaka, dressed in baby blues and whites, skating gracefully like a princess. you glanced at her in awe, she is so pretty. the word 'pretty' couldn't describe ayaka as her beauty can be like the fresh snow or something. you aren't really a person with good words but gosh, ayaka is so pretty.

you called out her name as she was twirlling on the ice, she stopped with a clean finished, specks of ice flew off her white ice skates. she saw you and smiled, skating her way near the rink, "hello, name, are you ready?"

"not quite, um, can you help me with my shoes?" you asked as she nodded. "it would be my pleasure." she opened the gate and walked with you to one of the benches stationed outside of the rink. you opened your bag and realized, you forgot kaeya's your shoes! ayaka noticed you looked lost while looking in your bag, "did you not bring your own shoes, or did you forget since you had have skated before?"

shit, you forgot you lied that you were the better ice skater than kaeya even though it was the opposite. "um, i forgot, i haven't skated in a while and my skates were pretty old and tarnished-" you started to whisper, "-because kaeya keeps stealing it."

she chuckled, "really?"

"really."

after ayaka helped you lace up your shoes, it was time to shine. but also known as, time to ball and hope ayaka doesn't notice. however, little did you know that ayaka already knew you didn't skate. especially when kaeya was one of her ice-skating buddies in the club. it didn't matter though since she was finally able to have a date with you despite your obliviousness to her advances.

amber

when amber said, "i know a place.", you didn't expect her to bring you into an excluded place in dragonspine that wasn't overran by abyss mages and other mobs. it was cold for sure, and you weren't sure how amber wasn't cold in her mini skirt. the evergreen trees were reaching for the skies and there was even a rock shaped like hearts. amber picked it up and said, this is us. you laughed and agreed.

once you guys ended up at the right place, a frozen over pond about 2 times bigger than the ponds you had seen in mondstadt. she pulled you into a hug and then told you a disclaimer, "by the way, babe, there is a teensy minor chance the lake might crack so if it is, i'll sacrifice my life for you. but seriously if it does crack, yell my name and we'll go the cat cafe and get coffee instead."

you exhaled a laugh, "okay, amber."

"awesome! now since that's said and done, let's party! but first, we need to have safety." she pulled out of her tote bag, knee pads, a helmet, another helmet, leg warmers and most importantly, pocket hand warmers. "wait, you know how to skate right? not in a kamisato ayaka or eula lawrence way but in a way where it's average but not too little like klee."

"yes, i promise you that i'm experienced in this."

"okay! we don't need the helmet then, i'll wear mine because it's baron bunny inspired, see?" she showed off the red helment with bunny ears. you nodded to gesture "yes, i do see it."

you and your girlfriend went off to skate and thankfully, no cracks in sight. it became a yearly tradition to go this specific place together.

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fandom-monium · 6 months

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Sweet Poison - Part 5

Summary: In which you avoid Zagreus, until one day you can't. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

WC: 2.4k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut, MINOR descriptions of blood and injuries. Physical touch, affection. Just Zagreus being soft and doting and kind to you this chap

Damn her, damn her, damn her, damn—

Teeth clenched, your vision swims as you grip the rim of the basin for balance, washing off the blood as red drops swirl and mix like watercolor paints before the water clears again. It’s days like this where you wish you can get stronger, more powerful, but there’s a limit to everyone’s full potential, and unfortunately you met yours a long time ago.

Still, it’d be nice.

Contrary to popular belief, succubi can be vicious warriors, they’re simply in their own class. Their abilities, their magic, while never measuring up to gods, could ruin an army in a master’s hand, but it has its limits. Especially amongst demonkind.

As the water calms, you grind your teeth at the sight of your reflection, assessing the damage. Blood and darkness, that’s going to bruise, that one’s definitely going to scar, and you curse the universe because your job’s about to get that much harder now that you may have to use a glamor. Oh, you swear next time you get your hands on her, you’ll—

A resounding rumble quakes the room.

Your chamber door.

You curse. But you're sluggish from the blood loss, and before you can hurl yourself out the balcony, Zagreus steps in without his usual greeting, panting and laurels slightly askew, like he rushed in knowing you’re here. Wild eyes dart to every corner of the chamber, as if he half-expects you to be hiding, until they fall on you, embarrassingly hunched over your healing fountain.

One glance at your battered face, he’s beside you in a flash.

"Zag—”

“What happened?” His tone is surprisingly strained as his hands, clean of blood and gore, reach for you. Then something flickers across his face that makes him hover, his eyes—red and green and wide—taking in your new wounds with horror.

If only you had the energy to cower, shield your bruised face. He’s the last person you want to see right now, and your vision blurs, hating how he of all people is seeing you like this—broken, imperfect.

“I’m fine, Zagreus,” You croak, your voice quiet as you swallow your insecurity like bile. A poor attempt to put some distance between you, you try to step aside, but your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumple like a house of cards.

Of course, Zagreus catches you—asshole—strong, lean arms gentle as he hugs you to his chest, holding you up as if you’re the most precious of gems. Hate how quick you are to relax in his hold, clay in his hands. Blood and darkness, it’s so easy, so quick, so… right.

You squirm against him, but his grip tightens slightly, mindful of your injuries.

“Sure you are,” Zagreus snorts, though he gazes down at you so soft and sweet you want to shout, wondering if he tastes the same. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”

Unable to protest, you let him carry you like a rag doll, limp in his hands before he gently props you up on the lounge chair. You lean against the back with a groan. “Really, I'm—”

“'Fine', yes, you’ve said that,” Already, he’s rummaging through your cupboards, at least the ones he knows aren’t filled with art supplies. “Do you have bandages?”

“… Second last cabinet on your left.”

Without a word, he walks through your chamber with self assurance, maneuvering around your easel and stepping over splayed out canvas as they finish drying, careful where to leave his burning footprints. He finds what he’s looking for easily enough, a moment later pulling up a chair and plopping down in front of you. His hands are methodical as he lays everything out; two bowls of water, a small cloth, and the saddest little first aid kit.

In your defense, you hardly end up like this.

You watch his hands as he dips the towel in the water then wrings it out, before gently dragging it across your exposed arms. You flinch as he begins wiping off the grime.

“I know,” His tone is soft, terribly understanding as he continues. “Give it a minute, you’ll feel much better soon.”

You want to snort, snap at him that you’re fully aware of how it works, but the cool sting of water, the mild burn from the open gashes and cuts along your skin, is quick to clench your jaw shut. Pain ebbs across your body, and you watch him speechless, the rhythm he follows, painfully gentle as he drags the cloth across your skin, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Clean water, wring out, wipe, rinse, repeat; he even goes out of his way to change the water, and the relief that comes after would make you sink into the couch, if not for Zagreus's silence.

He's yet to say a word since he entered. He'd asked you already, yes, but you take him for someone who doesn't give up that easily. You expected more of a fight. Now, you're not so sure.

"Zagreus, I… I—" It's hoarse, hardly above a whisper, but it's a start.

You feel him pause before choosing to lay into your newfound cowardice like a wet blanket, avoiding his eyes. Who knows what you'll do if you meet his gaze.

Sensing your hesitation, Zagreus clears his throat, "Perhaps you should save your energy. We can chat when you're healed."

You shake your head, though it only makes the room spin. "No, I need to tell you this now. Before..."

"Before what? You start avoiding me again?" He resumes, wrapping gauze around your forearm, his touch ghosting your skin as he holds your arm out. There’s no malice or respite in his tone, soft and withdrawn as it comes, but you wince. If anything, it’s bittersweet, with an acceptance he long held before he approached your chamber, and it leaves your heart clenching. You don't know how to respond. Are you that obvious?

"(Your Name)... did I do something wrong?"

You blink, whirling to face him.

Zagreus bites his lip, emotions he can’t fathom threatening to spill out of him. That's always been his flaw, according to Father. He's attuned to his emotions, more than Nyx, Father, literally any of the chthonic gods. He stares as his hands tremble, attempting to knot the bandage. "Because if I did, please just tell me what it is so I can make things right between us."

"No-no, you've done nothing wrong," You assure him, sitting up through the pain even when Zagreus protests. When he raises a brow at your answer, you rush to add, "I swear! I've been busy with... work." Technically, this isn’t a lie.

"... 'Busy'. Is that how you got these?" Zagreus holds out your mangled arm by your hand, flicking his eyes over your body in the way you hate most. You'd take aura-induced desire over this: pity, disgust.

You wrench your arm away, cradling it in your lap and shrugging. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

"(Your Name), who did this?"

You freeze. Nerves go haywire, and you squirm under his piercing gaze, burning through you as you contemplate lying to him, but you know better. At this point, you know each other too well, and—blood and darkness—he'll see right through you. There’s a defeated sigh, then a quiet, "Alecto."

Zagreus's eyes darken, but you wave him off. "Don't worry. In her defense, I kind of deserved it."

Zagreus sputters, taken aback, staring at you as if you offended him. "'Don't worry'? Don't—how can you say that? First I've seen you in days, and you're—" A sharp intake of breath, and he clenches his jaw so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

"It's not a big deal. I disobeyed direct orders, and..." You trail off, thinking back.

Since meeting Zagreus, seeds of doubt sprout in your chest, in your lungs, suffocating you as you question the system you’ve worked under for so long. You’ve never questioned who you are and what you do, not to say you love your job, but it’s your life. Yet who’s to say there aren't poor souls sentenced to the wrong level? Genuine and kind, noble and passionate—people who don't deserve eternal damnation.

The possibility of your victims being innocent and undeserving makes you want to hurl, tortured shrieks and endless tears flashing across your memory and echoing in your ears. Your stomach clenches just thinking about it.

"(Your Name), I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Zagreus starts, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words, his breaths coming quick and ragged. He just stares at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you can't quite place—as if your virtuous act breaks his heart, crushes his soul. Then he blinks, and it's gone, shaking his stupor. “This is my fault…”

You raise an eyebrow, “How is this your fault?”

“I… I just… you shouldn’t have…” You frown as Zagreus struggles, brow furrowed, clearly pained as he thinks over his answer, like whatever he says next determines your fates. Seeming to think better of it, he shakes his head and brings your hand to his lips, and you flush, your heart skipping as his lips graze over the bandages, warmth seeping through the material and into your wounds like a healing salve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He rasps between each kiss, trailing up the back of your hand and up your forearm, like they’ll heal the wounds faster. Like this is the best he can do, like this is all he can do. Not that you plan to stop him.

Your face burns, but you let him apologize, though you’re not sure what for as he stops before your shoulder. At some point, he slotted himself between your thighs, and now face to face, he studies your cuts and bruises, already fading away as his eyes, soft and glistening, flick over your features. Like he’s debating if his kisses will help them heal faster too.

Gods, if he brings those lips anywhere near your face, you might combust.

You meet his gaze, “What—”

“I lied.”

It comes as a whisper, his voice dry and low that you tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’m not some mortal soul, dredging their way through Tartarus,” Zagreus grinds out, scanning your face as if committing you to memory one last time. Then he sits back and stares at the floor, still gripping your hand as he rubs circles over the bandage. “I mean, it’s true I intend to escape the Underworld.”

“Zagreus—”

“And yes, I’m searching for my mother—”

“Zag—”

“But I’m really—”

“My prince.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “What?”

“None of this is your fault, my prince. With or without your influence, I’d have done the same thing anyway.” He gapes at you and you smirk, using the little strength you’ve recovered to squeeze his hand reassuringly, “Or would you rather I address you as Your Highness instead?”

Zagreus shakes his head, black hair flopping out of his shocked face. “I don’t understand. You knew?”

“For a bit now, yes,” You shrug as you turn his hand over, large and calloused in yours, swiping a thumb over one of his healed blisters, probably from gripping his weapons. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I can’t say I was surprised. It explained some of your funny behavior.”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, “What sort of funny behavior?”

“Pretend all you like, but you can’t suppress those noble habits,” You chuckle, eyes crinkling seeing him cheer up. “All your mannerisms screamed ‘royal’, I just didn’t realize we were talking Underworld royalty.”

“Seriously?” Zagreus gazes at you in disbelief. “I thought I did a pretty good job acting—”

“Like a commoner?”

“Like a mortal,” He shoots you a pointed look, and you snort, relaxing into the love seat.

“You were okay.” You purse your lips, “While we’re on the subject of identity reveals, you should know I’m—”

“A succubus?”

You blink before pouting, snatching your hand away to cross your arms over your chest. “You only say that because I was about to tell you…”

“Not true,” Zagreus grins, leaning over to give your thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I knew from the beginning. Succubi magic doesn't affect gods, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“And you still stayed? Knowing what I am and what I do?”

“And you still treated me as any other friend, knowing who I am?”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I disagree,” He coaxes your hands into his, prompting you to meet his gaze as his expression shifts into something more earnest. “We both tried—and failed miserably—to hide a huge part of ourselves in fear of what we’d think of each other, am I wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. (Your Name), I hope you know not once did I think any less of you for your work, much less your species.”

You respond in kind, “And not once did I consider bowing down to the Prince of the Underworld, especially not after seeing him stuff his face with wraps he picked off the ground.”

He guffaws. “Good, then we’re in agreement?”

“I guess...”

“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful creature.” Ignoring the burn in your cheeks, you roll your eyes, and he adds, “But we’re okay? You won’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Keep that up, you won’t be seeing me for another couple runs.”

“I was agreeing with you!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

By the time your shared laughter dies down, the atmosphere clears, leaving a comfortable silence settling in the small space between you. In that time, he’s yet to let go of your hands, your thighs brushing as he rubs soothing circles against your hands, and while he insists on staying until he’s sure you’re better, acceptance rushes over you like the oncoming tide, because try as you might, Alecto’s punishment was nothing in comparison to Zagreus’s absence. These fleeting moments he stops by your chamber, whether to recover, commission a painting, or to simply have a chat, you appreciate each and every one of them. If that’s all you’ll ever have with Zagreus, you decide, your chest tight with a melancholic warmth, then that's okay.

This is enough.

—

Soon after Zagreus reluctantly leaves you once more, he enters the last chamber of Tartarus.

“Redblood! What say you—ack—hey, I wasn’t done talking!”

If he prolongs their time together, allowing him to indulge his cruelty, then consider it time well spent.

—

AN: One of my biggest peeves in media tropes is the betrayal and angst as a reaction from hiding identities from s/o, like in superhero media. It's overplayed, overdone.

A good, recent example of this is the new animated Superman show, My Adventures with Superman, where (SPOILERS) Lois forces the truth out of Clark, and is pissed when he confirms he is Superman. Bro, you literally said to his face how you'd reveal his identity to the public, can you blame the guy? Idgaf you think he's lying ab his feelings omfg he's protecting his idenity (its a good show tho pls watch it!!)

However, a cartoon that does the scenario right is in the old Nickelodeon cartoon, Danny Phantom (some of yall may be too young to remember), the older sister, Jaz, of the mc, Danny, quietly realizes he's the superhero of their town, and decides to patiently wait for him to tell her when HE'S READY. Like askjgdaksjhf yassss we love patience and understanding.

Which is why I like to imagine while Zag didn't outright tell you who he is, he didn't try to hide it either. The underworld's a big ass place, he's got no control over who and what ppl say and do, so however you find out, whether in passing or of your own sleuthing skills, you both wait.

Ty for coming to my ted talk :D

#zagreus #hades supergiant #hades game #zagreus x reader #zagreus (hades games) x reader #hades

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ishouldgetatumbler · 7 months

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"I'm going to be somewhat less strict than many of your teachers here. I am purely invested in your education, which means trying to meet you halfway. So if you have to go to the bathroom, get a drink, stretch your legs, whatever, just get up and go. Just come back okay? Passing this class will be very easy as long as you are in class for most of it."

And that was all the eye contact Danny could stand before his hand started to doodle and his eyes made a break for the page. He wrote the date on instinct; then stared at it. He erased the day, then paused. He erased the month, then wrote the correct date.

"Now for grading, exams are not as big of a deal on my class. Exams are about five percent of your grade. In addition homework isn't really... feasible? So don't worry about that. What will make a big chunk of grade is classwork, which is mostly answering when called on, raising your hand, asking questions, and showing up. Really just showing up and showing me all your lovely beautiful faces should be enough in my book, but for the stiffs upstairs you know-"

The teacher stopped, like they were expecting the class to laugh. It was silent. Danny was just drawing lines. Long, zagging, looping trailing lines. The teacher recovered swiftly.

"Chatty bunch. Well I guess that's fair, its first day jitters and all, and I am making it sound like this class is breeze, so what's the catch right? Most of your grade is tied up in what we're supposed to call 'labs' but I prefer to call it 'live practice.' I don't want you to get too worried about results, it's alot more about 'mucking in' as they say. Just show me you're making an effort and improving because, hey, we're all learning right?"

Squiggling lines has lost its therapeutic effect. Danny moved on to drawing his instructor farting while being struck by lightning, exclaiming "YOWCH!" His personal explanation was that they stank so much god saw fit to punish them.

"I know this class gets a bad reputation, and heck the entire business, especially in America, for those of you from there, but all I'm looking for is participation. And hey, guys, eyes here? I'm gonna get up on my soapbox here."

Danny looked up from his half completed drawing of himself as a demon-cat hybrid. He made eye contact with the glaring intensity of the instructor.

"Torture is important okay? You may not use it in your day to day life, but it teaches you important ways of thinking, and 'enhanced interrogation' as we're supposed to call it DOES work, but it's not a science and its not shopping for yoga pants. You can't repeat the same test on a different subject and get the same results, and its not one size fits all."

That was all Danny could take before his lunch made a run for it and he curled over his desk and covered his mouth with a clammy hand. His swirling, sloshing lines made his nausea only worse. Somehow he'd forgotten Vlad picked the school. The teacher on his paper exclaimed "YOWCH!"

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Mr...?"

"Wayne-Al Ghul"

Shoes tak-tak'ed on the floor as the instructor stepped back to the desk at the front of the room, and scrawled a check on the attendance.

"Yes Damian?" They asked finally.

"May I be excused on the basis of experience? I feel this introductory course has nothing to teach me." Damian said promptly and matter-of-factually.

The teacher sharply exhaled in amusement, then said "Well, like I said before, I believe we're all learning. Every year I teach this class I learn something new. Heck I have learned more teaching than I ever did in the business. Really, it's about approach. Everyone can learn something from someone else's approach, and even if it isn't mine or one of the ones I teach you, I am certain you can learn something from your classmates."

Danny was finally starting to figure out why he was so damn nauseous. The words were disgusting of course, but hearing yourself talked about like veal to be dissected and portioned guilt up an immunity to that. No, this was something more.

Ghosts are more like an ecosystem than a living thing. When you die, all your thoughts get split up up into a million different mini ghosts. When someone has all of their thoughts and emotions tied into one thing, they stay somewhat as they were after death, but most people break up. Those break ups leave some small amount of stragglers, who can't or haven't yet made it to the ghost zone.

The room was covered in little ghosts. Caked in them, floor to ceiling like the whole room is painted in a thin, semi-transparent sheen of death. He hadn't even noticed. He just assumed the paint was discolored.

"Ah, yes, you have a question Mr...?"

"Fowl."

"Ah, Artemis, I see you on my attendance sheet. Isn't that-"

"A girls name, yes. Why are we being taught to torture?" The small pale boy asked.

Internally, the nausea abated slightly: finally someone was asking sane questions. His rendition of himself as a demon cat smiled at him from the page.

"It's like having a lesson on how to smash a computer screen. Or a demonstration on how to burn fine art. Why use such wasteful destruction when a fine eye for detail will suss the computer's password, or the painting's secret?"

The teacher sighed before replying "because sometimes art is dangerous, and sometime you need to smash a computer. Assuming you already have all the tools to solve every problem in your future will do you no good."

Artemis snorted but did not offer a reply.

"Right. Do we have any questions that are not 'why do I have to take this stupid class?'"

The room was silent and coated in thin, viscous death.

"Great, I'm going to be passing out your packets, these will contain some practice quizzes and any of the reading for this semester. You'll get another packet in the winter and spring."

The teacher laid a thick stack of stapled papers on Danny's desk, then paused. Danny looked up in terror into their slightly excited face, as the hand on his desk pushed the packet out of the way and pulled out Danny's paper.

They nodded appropriately at the contents of the paper, then held it up for the class.

"See this?" they said, pointing to the drawing of themself being hit by lightning and flatulence, "even something like this indicates to me that you are invested, that you're paying attention and that you're thinking about what I'm saying."

"Is that a demon cat?" someone blurted out.

And that was all it took, the bottom fell out of Danny's stomach and he hurled.

#danny phantom #artemis fowl #damien wayne #dead serious #Dead Serious Dove #thats my ship name for them idk

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sirenologyyy · 1 year

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ROCKAWAY !

ao'nung x fem!sully reader

✷ premise : as tensions rise and your family is forced out of the only home you've ever known, fish boy meets forest girl and the rest is history (tragedy)

✷ warnings : kidnapping, swearing, injury, blood, violence, and death

✷ author's note : here's part 2 for you guys! Just a lil heads up the fight scene is in this one 👀 also hinewai is pronounced as HEE-neh-WAI !

part 2 of the SOLD OUT OF LOVE series

"These are ilu, if you want to live here you have to ride "

You turn to Neteyam and Lo'ak, your eyes meeting theirs.

"Don't tell me you're actually scared baby bro" Neteyam taunts, leaning closer to Lo'ak as they pretended to pay attention to Ao'nung teaching them how to properly bond with an ilu.

"Who the hell says i'm scared?"

"He's bluffing" You appended lightnight fast, keeping your eyes on Ao'nung while tilting your body towards your oldest brother.

"Yeah I know he is," He crowed. "I know his tell, his face turns purple and his tail draws zig-zags in the air-" He stops. "Oh my bad, he was just looking at Tsireya"

Lo'ak jabs his elbow against Neteyam's arm as you tried stifling your laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth before it was too late.

"Are you three even listening?" Ao'nung asks, zeroing his eyes at each of you respectively, his eyes lingering on your face longer than you had liked to the point that you had just raised both your eyebrows acknowledging him, he looks away innocently, glaring at Lo'ak once more.

Neteyam looks at him. "Right, yeah, sorry"

"Answer the question skxawng" He maintained.

Lo'ak stepped up, showing his palms. "Look take it easy alright? Don't need to get a knot in your tail so early in the morning"

The blue frog was a few seconds shy from steam leaving his ears and Tsireya quickly notices. "Now that Ao'nung has explained to you all the basics, who wants to go first?" She asks.

Innocently, you shove Lo'ak forward as the rest of you took a step backwards like something tugged at the neurological link that connected between siblings. He looked at all of you standing two steps away from him almost scandalised, betrayed, possibly even outraged.

"Lo'ak!" Tsireya exclaimed happily, clapping her hands as she wades toward him, pulling him to the ilu that had been circling her through out the entire session. He looked back at the rest of you in fear, you and Neteyam silently giving words of support and encouragement as Tsireya pulled him along with her.

"Swing your leg over her body" Ao'nung instructs once Tsireya dragged the both of you a few ways away from the others, you begrudgingly swung your right leg over the ilu's slender body, running a hand over her neck as an attempt to console it from the abrupt weight shift that was you sitting on her back.

You barely even blinked before you hear Ao'nung's tongue check in his mouth. "You're sitting on it wrong"

You whirl your head at him. "I'm sitting on it wrong? " You reiterate, widening your eyes at him in disbelief.

"Yes" He deadpans. "A million possible ways you can ride an ilu yet you ride it as if you're trying to wrestle with it"

You roll your eyes in frustration, but nearly jumping out of your skin when you feel his warm hand on your leg, out of instinct you jabbed your foot against his chest, sending him a few steps back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? He sends you a sharp look. "Relax Forest Girl, I am not here to violate you" He retaliates boredly. "Put your leg down here, you're not trying to ride an íkran," He began, shifting your leg to a different more comfortable position. "Go and make the bond"

You connect your queues together and a surge of memories wash over you, clear and exhilarating days of swimming in the open ocean, hunting for food, playing in the reefs, the fear of losing her parents to akulas, your stomach sinking as you watched it swim away, the love she had for her children, 5 babies, you felt as proud as she was.

"Now we can finally start by fixing that horrible posture of yours, Eywa Almighty you look like a deformed shrimp"

"Just teach me how to ride the goddamn thing"

"I'm getting there"

You huffed, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders, trying to get yourself used to sitting on an ilu.

"You have to treat her like she is one of your own," Ao'nung tells you, walking towards the head of the ilu. "You must be gentle, slow, treat her with respect, with compassion, and most of all ride her like you care for her-"

You finally slump. "Are you teaching me how to ride an ilu or get it pregnant?"

You heard his hand splash the surface of the water, your ilu baying at the sudden action. "Would the repercussions of murdering Toruk Makto's daughter short of death? because i am going to risk it"

"You talk too much" You tell him with a sour expression.

"You talk too much " He repeats in a tone that you assumed was a crude imitation of your voice.

Your jaw almost went slack if not for your brother, zooming past your peripheral on his ilu. You turn your body around, following his distorted figure until he is thrown off his ilu. You hear Ao'nung rise from the water and laugh as his other friends do, you realize how quickly you missed Rotxo's presence.

As Lo'ak swims back to the group, Ao'nung turns to you.

"Hold here" He says, gesturing to the ilu's gill mantle, you do as he says, adjusting your grip every now and then to see which one could keep you on the longest. "Mind your back, Forest Girl"

You straighten it once more. "Jesus Christ"

His face twists again. "What the hell is a Jesus Christ?" He stops himself. "You know what I do not want to know, keep your back straight and your legs in the same position as they were before or you will be sliding across the beach like a skipping stone"

"You're a real hit aren't you"

"I know" He grinned.

You let out a puff of air as you flexed your shoulders, feeling your back crack. "Y/N! It is your turn!" Tsireya calls out, beckoning you towards her and the empty space where Lo'ak had taken off just moments earlier. You swallowed, telling your ilu to move forward and as she does you lower your head closer to hers. "You won't throw me off will you?"

She clicks and yelps at you, only hoping that was her saying 'no worries pal'

Your ilu who you unofficially decided to name Hinewai, stops at the center of everyone. Lo'ak barely made it past that rock formation shaped like a fang, if you could somehow hang on til then and the way back then Ao'nung could shove that smug smile right up his ass.

"Okay, go!" Tsireya exclaimed.

"Hyah!" You yell, before filling your cheeks with air and descending under the water. It was a rough ride at first but you held onto the gill mantle for dear life while she flailed you around like some ragdoll, your left hand slips, you only manage to hold onto it again after a minute of her chasing some fish through the coral reef, making hard turns, your legs and arms getting scraped by the rocky surfaces of coral. She catches it just outside the small reef and you tell her to bring you up for some air, coincidentally a few steps away from the group.

Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk, and Tsireya started cheering you on as your body broke through the water , Lo'ak a little less considering his twin baby sister just rode and ilu and didn't fall off like he did. On the first try nonetheless, and lastly Ao'nung who didn't utter a peep.

"You were amazing out there!" Neteyam shouts, wading up to you with the rest of your siblings.

"It didn't feel like it" you admitted, almost laughing in the process.

"You should've seen Lo'ak's face when he realized you were coming back still riding your ilu" Kiri giggles, earning a nudge from Lo'ak who simply grinned before trapping you in a headlock and digging a knuckle against your hair, you try and push him off before smacking him in the face which catches him off guard.

"Teyam and Lo'ak were betting on you, you know, they said if you fell then Neteyam gets Lo'ak's chores for two weeks" Kiri adds before Lo'ak slaps his hand on her mouth, passing it off with a little laugh.

"It's true," Tuk says, looking at Lo'ak. "If you did fell Lo'ak gets Neteyam's chores plus a week's worth of yovo fruit"

"Tuk hit her head on the wall before leaving the house, she dosen't know what she's saying" says Lo'ak.

Tuk was about to object before Lo'ak picks her up sideways and blows raspberries on her stomach, bringing her to Tsireya to feed the ilus.

"Where is your brother?"

"He's down by the beach"

Neytiri frowns. "It is lunch time, very unlikely for Lo'ak not to be here by now"

"He had a big breakfast" You tell her, setting down the basket of fish you and Neteyam managed to catch after riding the ilus. "Near threatened to beat me if I didn't give him my share of banana fruit this morning"

A couple of your siblings chuckle along with you.

"Look, if he's hungry he can come to us, me and your mom have business to take care of after lunch so we gotta eat quick" Jake disclosed, nodding at the empty spots next to the dining table as he himself sat down. Neytiri asks Kiri to lead the prayer and once she was done thanking for the food you've all received and whatnot you started to dig in. Nabbing a piece of fish, breaking it apart, ripping a piece of meat, and popping it in your mouth.

"I heard you all practiced with ilus today," Jake starts, swallowing. "How'd that go?"

"It went okay, sir" Neteyam answers beside you. "Challenging at first but nothing a little practice couldn't fix"

"Good to hear" says Jake.

"Ma'ite, please sit properly" Neytiri says, looking at you. You resist the urge to groan so you put your leg down, your elbow previously resting on it before she spots you from across the table. This was stupid.

"Is that an eyeroll?" Jake wonders almost instantly, your ears flicking down for a millisecond before you look up at him to make sure he was talking to you. Yeah he was talking to you. "No, sir" you reply.

"Better not be"

"Teyam, pass the fish" Kiri asks quietly, pointing her chin at the basket of fish located in between you and him, he hands it to her across the table, watching her lips to mutter a small thank you.

You see your dad break apart a yovo fruit. "How're you all treatin' the Olo'eyktan's children? You nice to them?"

More like were they nice to us?

"Yes sir"

"Great, I need that to remain a constant, I expect the best from all of you alright?" Now that Lo'ak wasn't here his eyes find yours instantly. "Yes?"

A scattered chorus of yes sir's and yes dad's were heard across the dining table.

"Before we make dinner I want you two to help me with repurposing some of Tuk's old clothes" Says Neytiri, she didn't have to look at any of you for you to know who she was referring to.

"Okay" Kiri replies, breaking apart a yovo fruit as well, splitting the other half with Tuk.

"Okay" you say, flipping the fish to its other side to pick at the remaining meat.

You hear the collision of a wooden glass onto the table. "Should we head over?" Jake asks, looking at Neytiri who seemed to have finished eating as well, she responds with a silent nod.

They stand up from the table in unison, going over to wash their hands before they head on out. "I don't want none of you clowning around when we're away is that clear?" You barely had any time to respond before your Dad starts talking again. "Be on your best behavior or I swear you'll never hear the end of it from me"

"Be good, all of you" Mom adds.

"Neteyam, Y/N, up and at 'em " Neteyam stands up straight, straight back, straight face, so do you, though a bit slower than him. "You're in charge as usual, you know what to do once your siblings start upsetting the apple cart, you read me?"

Neteyam gives him a curt nod. "Affirmafive sir, loud and clear"

"Now for you," He says rounding on you. "Don't bite off more than you can chew alright?"

"Aye, aye" You reply, your voice hinting at the slightest almost impercievable tone of sarcasm you so desperately wanted to use.

"Alright, dismissed" and just like that they were gone.

You finally slouch again. "Come on, hurry up and finish your food before they come back"

Neteyam sighed. "Don't do that, you might choke on a fishbone"

"We can just see who's faster at putting away the plates" Tuk suggested, pushing a piece of fish in her mouth she stole from your plate.

"Do you want my fish?" You just ask, she nods and so you ripped her half of whatever meat was left before you wolfed down the rest.

Neteyam downs a glass of water. "Hah! Done!"

"Yeah well so am I!" Tuk combats incoherently, her cheeks full of fish before she swallows it all down.

"We're all done, silly" says Kiri, standing up and bringing her leaf to the sink where she scrapes all of what was left of her plate down the hole, an ilu that was waiting beneath the hut chomping on all of the left overs.

"Tuk go grab the rest of the bowls " You tell her, scraping your scraps down the hole before giving it to Kiri who washed it down.

Once the table was cleared and the dishes were put away you all go out of the hut, Kiri down to the beach to find Lo'ak while you and Neteyam watch Tuk running off towards a group of village children who beckoned her to play with them, not looking back at you any longer.

You turn to Neteyam. "Eywa, I wish it was that easy to make friends here"

He chuckles. "Come on, it's Tuk" He tells you knowingly.

"I wish we were all like Tuk" you sang, sighing greatly.

"They probably just start out really sweet, and as they grow older they turn all twisted and mean, like Ao'nung"

"No" You tell him, shaking your head, staring at your youngest sister slowly turn into a blurry figure as she got farther and farther away from you. "He was dropped as a child, it's the only explanation"

You and him walk along the coastline, enjoying the cold breeze, the warm sun, before Kiri's voice captures your attention. You didn't need to see the look on Neteyam's face before the both of you ran towards the sound. Under the shade of the trees you see Kiri and Lo'ak.

And Ao'nung and his friends.

Neteyam gets there faster than you, turning Ao'nung to face him. "You heard what she said, leave them alone"

You see one of Ao'nung's cronies step up. "Ohh, big brother coming to-" He stops as Ao'nung stops him with a hand across his chest.

"-Back off, now" Neteyam snarled, prodding a finger at Ao'nung's chest. He takes a step back, throwing his arms up in the air to show he concedes.

This man cannot be serious.

"They don't have it in them to hit us, just a couple of lap dogs and their ring leader" You say, siding with Neteyam, eyes landing on Ao'nung who looked like he was about to transform into a plum. "Come on you guys, we're done here" You tell your siblings, walking off in annoyance before one of his friends pushes you back in the circle.

"Don't touch me" You snap, slapping his arm away and shoving his chest backward.

"Hey!" Neteyam bellows, walking up to one of his goofy ass looking friends, staring at every single one of them in the process. "From now, on I need you to respect my sisters, got that?"

So he just resorts to hissing at him. With that, Neteyam grabs your and Lo'ak's shoulders, leading the both of you out of there.

"Ba-bye!" Taunts one.

"Look at them, freaks, all four of them" You hear Ao'nung whisper, your hand started to twitch involuntarily. You turn around to give them a piece of your mind but realize that Lo'ak was already 5 steps ahead of you.

"Lo'ak" you say, abandoning your original plan, sensibility taking over.

He turns to you. "I got this, sis"

"I know this hand is funny," He began, flexing his fingers at them. "Look, I'm a freak, an alien" He tells them as they laughed. "But it can do something really cool, watch, see- you have to ball it up real tight like this, and then-"

BAM. One hit square on the nose.

BAM. another across his face.

BAM. One last, under the chin sending his ass falling down to the sand.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sight, Neteyam and Kiri glaring at you.

"It's called a punch bitch! Never touch my sisters again!" Lo'ak yelled before Ao'nung rams into him. Lo'ak turns him over and punches him once more, the other boys dragged him back by his tail, one of the burly looking ones slapping him hard across the face with his own.

It wasn't fair if you simply stood and watched this right? You needed to put a stop to this.

So without thinking you started running.

Running towards the fight, dragging one of the boys away from your brother by his queue, landing one across his face, dodging a punch from another before headbutting him instead. Someone drags you away by your tail, falling to the sand with a loud thud, you turn to your back and jab your heel against his loincloth, springing back up before one of the boys turn you around to try and land a punch, one to the right, dodge, one to the left, until he just kneed you in the ribs making you double over so that he could finally land a punch to your cheekbone, then another punch to your cheekbone before you grab his fist, turn him around and kick his back, taking another boy down in the process, leaving them to the care of Neteyam who had joined the fight moments after you.

Ao'nung comes at you from behind, sending the both of you down, your head landing hard on a rock sending shock waves through your skull, your temple had started to bleed as you turn him over, landing punches on his nose until it bled, he kicks you off of him, punching your stinging cheekbone, your nose, your cheekbone, then your nose, as static began to fill your vision.

"You hit like a girl!" You screamed at him, struggling underneath his grip.

"So do you!" He shouts back before you try and push him off you, struggling underneath him before resorting to kicking his groin with your knee which worked like a charm, you were on your feet a second later, spitting out the liquid iron taste that filled your mouth. You switched positions, pinning him down which caught him off guard as you tried to land another hit on his face before he got away, you see the look on his face and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Careful, wouldn't want me to think you enjoy being underneath me do you?" You intoned.

Ao'nung's gaze was piercing and vile enough to poison a thanator. "I'd rather pull my spine out of my ass than ever come close to liking you"

With one last punch to his face you scramble towards Lo'ak who had three on him. You pull one away by his tail, dragging him across the beach before punching another one square to the throat, watching him choke and stagger back before you landed two punches to his face, pinning him down, getting lost in the moment and splitting his eyebrow open. The boy was absolutely befuddled, he does everything he could to get you off of him, but to no avail, he resorted to claw at you, causing your necklace to split, beads flying everywhere.

You feel your shoulder turned around by someone, it was Ao'nung once more with another punch to the nose, feeling hot blood dribble out from your nostrils, you pull his arm down, placing a knee on his ribs and finally letting go all of your pent up frustrations onto his face, you weren't even sure if the blood on your knuckles were his or yours.

"All that mouth yet you still can't fight with your fists" He pants with a sickening grin, the dark red patches on his face contrasting with the cool teal of his skin.

Your jaw tightens, forgetting the pain, letting rage take the wheel as you pulled your dagger out of its sheath, raising it up to his neck and watching as the sight of it wipes the cocky grin off his face, his lips parting in shock. "You're right, I don't, but i'm damn sure I can fight with this"

"You won't " He spat.

But you nod. "Oh but I would, I really would"

He tries to get out of your grip, you didn't even have to do anything for your knife to knick his skin.

"You want me to take this off your neck?" You ask, looking at his eyes for an answer, you weren't satisfied on what you got so you deepened your knife against his neck, making him let out a broken hiss. "Don't touch my siblings again, or so help me Eywa I will slit your throat and watch while you bleed dry on the beach then I'll call on my íkran to feast on your scorched corpse" You hissed. "You got that reef boy?"

But he does not answer, instead he stares up at you in silence, the only sound eliciting his lips were the ragged breaths he took, you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against yours, his aquamarine eyes bouncing from every point of your face, almost reading you, until the grip on your knife loosened.

You found yourself reading him too, confusion and frustration making your face twist.

That is until someone pulls you away from him, and at the spur of the moment you almost feel like his hands tried to wrap themselves around your waist before your body was so quickly pulled out of his clutches.

Another boy gave you an uppercut, then another knee to the gut before you pointed your knife at him, sending him backwards. You try and stand up, regaining your balance as you let a grin spread on your stinging face.

"That's it," you taunt, nodding at him, unconciously baring your fangs. "Back up"

One of them tries to make a leap for you but you just do the same, so they hiss instead. Fine, you thought. You throw your dagger through the gap between them, making it's mark on a tree behind them, they were stunned to say the least, it even had wisps of hair sticking out from where the knife met the tree, they look back at you horrified.

You see them run away hurriedly calling for their ilus, Ao'nung being the last as he gave you one last look before riding his ilu.

You close your mouth, tasting blood before you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. "Candy-ass bitch" you mutter to yourself.

You were only brought out from your reverie when you hear the familiar screech of an ikran.

Well, shit

" What was the one thing I asked? "

You huffed, clutching your side. "Stay out of trouble" you say with Lo'ak.

"Stay out of trouble" your Dad repeats for emphasis.

You see Neteyam stepping forward. "Dad, it was my fault"

"No, I don't think so, you gotta stop taking the heat for these knuckleheads" He snapped, turning to you and Lo'ak.

You purse your lips, hesitating before stepping forward "Dad- S-Sir, Ao'nung was picking on Kiri" You try to explain.

"He called her a freak, they picked on Y/N too!, they pushed her around!"

"Lo'ak you asshole!" You shout at Lo'ak, your temper rising once more.

"Hey!" Jake yells, making you flinch, your ears ringing at the volume nowhere near matching your voice, it ceased another impending argument. "What were you thinking? Neteyam, how could you let this happen?"

"Sir, things just got out of hand"

"Bullshit" He says, shaking his head. "If you had handled the fight early on, if you handled it properly we could've stopped this from ever happenning, do you see that?"

Neteyam nods, staring at the floor.

Jake snaps his fingers repeatedly. "Do you see what i'm talking about Neteyam??"

"Yes, sir" He finally says, seeing his eyes blink like rapid-fire.

"Don't even get me started on the two of you" Jake complains, pointing a finger at you and Lo'ak, swinging like a pendulum, eyes landing on your twin brother. "You hit them first! You never hit- what do I always say? "

"Never hit first or else you're no better than them"

"Exactly!" Jake exclaims. "What did you do? Did you listen to me?"

Lo'ak shook his head. "No"

"No, because you never listen do you?"

Lo'ak's ears droop, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jake looks at you and you look at him, trying to push down any iota of fear you had within you. "Christ Y/N, where do I even begin with you"

"Maybe the part where Ao'nung and-"

"-No, you don't get to talk!" He boomed, rounding on you and you quickly avert your eyes. "You don't get to talk! not after what you said to him, the Olo'eyktan's son! Do you forget who he is Y/N? The chief's son!"

"I get it, Dad" You insist, staring at the floor.

"Another word from you and you're grounded for a week" He threatens. "is this really the shit you wanna pull???"q He asks, shouting at your face as you pursed your lips together, an attempt at stopping the tears that threatened to fall. "You're lucky if the Tsahík ever lets you step a foot on the beach again!"

"Well that son of a bitch deserved it" You said bravely.

"I don't care if he did or not, you are in the wrong, you need to see that"

"Dad, she was only trying to-"

"-zip it" He tells Neteyam. "I expected this shit from your bothers but never from you, never you, now you- you went out there and proved me wrong... what do you gotta say for yourself?"

You remained silent and you heard him hum. "That's what I thought"

His flick upwards to your bleeding temple, your bruised face and suddenly he starts remembering that stormy night. "You pulled a goddamn knife to his neck, Y/N, a knife! Are you insane? "

Your own father calling you insane was worse than any blows you had to endure from those boys.

Neytiri enters the hut, walking up to you. "Ma Jake, she gets it, please stop" She says, placing her hand on your shoulder before you shrug it away harshly.

"That's the problem, she dosen't does she?, she never thinks it through, punch first questions later, isn't that right?" He taunts, looking at you, still maintaining a shit poker face. "I can't believe you" He tells you whilst shaking his head in disapproval, that's when your lower lip starts to tremor and your throat start to to cave in.

"You have no idea how disappointed I am of you" He says to the three of you, his tail swishing in the air in frustration. "Most especially you " He tells you, feeling your stomach sink, your eyes start to fog up.

"Go apologise to Ao'nung, both of you"

"What?" Lo'ak retaliates.

"I don't care how you do it, just go and make peace"

Lo'ak heads out first, walking down the steps and onto the beach.

"So what'd the other guys look like?" Jake asks Neteyam.

"Worse"

Jake nods. "Good"

"A lot worse" You hear Neteyam say as you had your back against your Dad, knowing you weren't leaving the hut to apologise to Ao'nung. Turning towards the forest when you see Ronal and Tonowari out on the beach, talking to Ao'nung's friends and hearing the words "have you seen him around-?" before their conversation deemed too incoherent to decipher.

Your chest felt too tight, your eyes felt too hot, your back ached, your head was spinning. You had found yourself hiding in a secluded part of the island, surrounded by trees and wildlife, water trickling down the stone formations that stood behind you, birds flee above your warbling and squawking, insects chirping and squeaking.

You covered your ears as you allowed the tears to spill from your eyes, curled up into a ball as you stared into the void.

You couldn't breathe.

The world was moving too fast and you couldn't catch up, your grip on it loosening.

You tried forgetting the words your Dad told you, making yourself believe that they didn't matter because he was just angry and he only wanted to look out for you, but you couldn't, your mind was sealed shut and nothing came in or out.

You were spiraling now.

You couldn't breathe, your lungs felt like they were set on fire

Suddenly your mind started to become loud. So loud that it made you wonder where the sound was coming from, you were alone weren't you?

Was it all just happenning inside your head?

That's the problem, she dosen't does she?, she never thinks it through, punch first questions later, isn't that right?

You remember his voice, how he mocked you, how he taunted you.

Are you insane?

You shut your eyes tight, shaking your head, convincing yourself that this was all in your head.

You have no idea how disappointed I am of you, especially you.

"Stop" you tell the disembodied voice, keeping your hands clasped tightly over your ears "You aren't real, you aren't real"

"Who isn't real?"

You whirl your head at lightning speed, almost giving yourself a whiplash in the process, there, just a few steps away from you was Ao'nung, all battered and bruised, standing behind a stream of sunlight.

You stand up abruptly. "Go away" you tell him, turning around to face the rock formation, wiping your tears away.

He stands there for a moment, just looking at you, seeing the wet trails on your cheeks before you so hurriedly turn away from him. "I'm not here to taunt you, Forest Girl" He tells you.

You hum, turning back around. "I don't believe you"

He stepped forward now, directly into the sunlight, highlighting his bruises the shape of golfballs, his eyes turning into a shade of blue you never knew existed. "Fine, believe what you want to" he sighed.

"Have you come to laugh at me?"

He throws his arms in the air only to have them land on either side of his hips with a thwack. "Eywa, were you not just listening to me talk?"

"I'm afraid I hadn't been paying attention to you at all" you confessed dryly.

He gives you a look. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I like looking at rocks"

"You lie" He muttered.

"No I don't"

"Are too"

"I really like how they're so grey"

He raises his eyebrows at you. "Tell me the truth, Forest Girl"

"I wanted to be alone" You say. "I don't like the beach, I don't like the Marui, I wanted some place where it felt like everything was still simple, even when it's not"

Then, a brief moment of silence.

Ao'nung looks around, there were the trees, the grass, the flowers, the insects, the shrubs, the plants.

"I understand" He says, shocking you to your very core. "You are an outsider, you do not belong here in Awa'tlu"

You couldn't help the snuff that comes out of your nose. "Thanks"

"But my people use this trail often," He explained. "you will not feel at peace here"

You stay silent, thinking about what he said, how he said it, how he's behaving, no signs of hostility, or resentment, his parents have sent him away to apologise to you, that much you know.

"Your parents are finding you, you know" He tells you after a moment.

"So are yours" you tell him, recalling the moment you saw Ronal and Tonowari, talking to his other friends to know if they've spotted him or not. "You should go back"

"So should you" He bounces back.

Then, in the distance, you hear his friends calling for him, both of you turning towards the sound.

"Hey," you say, turning to him. "Do me a solid and don't lead them here okay? I'm too tired for another fight, as much as I want to beat your dim friends to a pulp I can't afford another screwup"

He stops in his tracks for a moment before he nods at you. "I wasn't going to" He says, making your eyebrows knit at the middle. "But fine, don't think I'll let you off so easy next time"

"I doubt you won't"

He turns his head back to the way he came. "I'm here! I'm here! Stay where you are I'm coming to you" He shouts before beginning to push past the overgrown leaves that was blocking the path. It addles you when you see him stop walking. "By the way, i've never met someone, let alone a girl, that can put up a fight as well as you did"

You giggle through your nose, a smile cracking on his face before he leaves you alone.

You didn't apologise to him like your father had wanted but at least it was an entire conversation where not one of you tried to spite eachother.

You kept avoiding him during lessons which was hard considering Tsireya insists that you and him were a pair already.

So far today was just practicing the transition from holding your breath for long periods under water and learning how to regain your breathe once your ilu leaps out of the water and back again, sticking mostly to your big brother than usual.

Also the fact that Ao'nung and Lo'ak still kept sending death glares to eachother during training was another highlight you've yet to mention, it got so bad that Tsireya had to dismiss all of you two hours early saying that all of your siblings did good, and that you deserved the rest of the day off.

You slap the back of Lo'ak's head. "You're doing it again"

"What do you mean?"

"Quit staring at him, it's distracting" Neteyam says.

"Jesus Lo, just rip off eachother's clothes and hit it in the sack already"

He stood up from his seat, pointing a finger at you. "You're messed up"

You giggle at him as he walks off, you turn to Neteyam who sat beside you, remaining quiet.

"Is dad talking to you yet?"

You shook your head, brushing sand off your feet as you and him sit by the roots. "No, I doubt he ever will"

"Chin up baby sis" He tells you, hooking an arm around your shoulder, shaking you gently. "It has only been two days, I'm sure he will come around"

"If it was you maybe" you tell him before squinting at the beach, watching the whitecaps forming in the horizon. "You and Lo'ak have Dad, say what you want but I know Dad always wanted two boys, Mom has Kiri and Tuk, me, I'm just... I'm not like you, 'Teyam" You found yourself saying, looking at him now. "I cheated my way out of death, became an Avatar, Kiri and I aren't your siblings by blood but at least she was born Na'vi-"

"-It dosen't seem that different to me" Neteyam interrupted you. "I always saw you as my sister, even if you only reached up to my waist when we were kids, even if you had no tail, no fangs, none of that mattered to me... so what if you look a little different now? You've always been Y/N, you've always been my little sister"

Silence ensues as the wind blew in from the sea.

"Shit Neteyam" You finally laugh, looking at the tree tops above you so that the tears that threatened to brim your eyes would somehow fall back in. "It's only 4 pm, damn you"

He cackles, pulling you closer to him until you finally just scoot over, resting your head on his shoulder. Watching the swell of the waves, lapping up at the sand before falling back into the ocean, watching as fishermen cast their nets into the water, children swimming after eachother, hearing the faint yelps of ilus in the background.

You sit there for a few minutes, possibly even half an hour, before Neteyam stands up saying he'll go check up on Kiri and Tuk and see if their Marui was still standing, and with that you are left to your own devices. You begin to hate the quiet and so you stand up and start walking into the lush fauna Awa'atlu had to offer, dancing past moss covered rocks, avoiding skittish insects crawling about. You hear a twig snap behind you, your ears perk up, and a cold feeling washes over your back, your fingers wrap themselves around the hilt of your dagger as you began walking deeper into the forest, staying light on your feet as you hear the rustling grow louder.

You swerve behind a waterfall and start running, slipping in and out of trees, ducking over overgrown branches until you bump into a teal wall of flesh, the impact was so hard you practically bounced off of eachother.

"What the hell do you think you're trying to pull?"

Ao'nung shows you his palms. "Take it easy, no need to get angry again"

"Were you the one following me?" You pressed.

"Yes, until you started running which made me have to run after you"

You abandon your fighting stance, standing up straighter. "Is this some sick joke?"

You see him scratch the side of his mouth. "I realized I never apologised to you... for- for the fight"

"I thought you'd have forgotten it by now"

"Pretty hard not to" He laughed. "I got an earful once I came back home, couldn't stop thinking about it ever since, I even lost sleep because of it"

"My deepest sympathies" You droned.

"I guess I just wanna say that I am sorry" Ao'nung mutters. "For hitting you"

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you look around, hearing yourself up for an apology. "I'm sorry too... for hitting you, i'm sorry that you deserved it, i hoped it hurt"

He blinked.

"Also sorry for calling you all those names, sorry for talking about you behind your back, sorry for shit talking you in front of my parents-"

He stops you with his hand. "-what?"

"Yeah"

"Fine, apology accepted" He replied gruffly, half-shrugging. "Now come on, I want to show you something"

"Like hell i'm going to follow you anywhere"

"I'm not going to murder you if that's what you're so worried about"

"Why don't I believe you?" You sassed, raising a lone eyebrow at him.

"I never asked you to believe, I only want you to trust me"

It made you think. "If I trust you, I need to believe that you won't cause me any harm, to trust is to believe"

"It works both ways Forest Girl" you could tell he was getting tired of your technicality.

Huh. "I suppose you are right"

"Are you coming or not?" He calls after you, already several steps away.

You follow him in silence, praying to Eywa he was being true to his word and was not in fact leading you to your death. The pair of you finally reach the end of the forest, a secluded beach, you see him walk all the way to the edge of the water where he called on his ilu, urging you to do the same. You called on Hinewai and you saddled her waiting for further instructions from Ao'nung, when he starts moving forward so do you, when he stops by a huge rock formation covered with palm trees and lush flowers you stop too.

"We have to swim from this point forward" He tells you, jumping off his ilu and sending it off.

You cautiously jump off yours, making a splash as your body hit the water. "I will even race you" He says.

"What are we, 10?"

He half-shrugs, giving you a boyish smile. "Take it as a practice drill"

He dives down and so do you, following him deeper, and deeper also while trying to beat him there, wherever there was. The huge rock formation had stretched down farther than you had hoped, when you spot the hole and watched Ao'ning swim inside, you were having second thoughts about following him in, but your competitiveness took over you and you pursued him, swimming faster so that you could catch up to him. He began swimming upwards, and so do you, propelling yourself as quick as you could so that you'd be head to head, your chest was starting to tighten again and you felt like his was as well, so it was a race to the top.

After what felt like hours you resurfaced and took a huge intake of breath, beating Ao'nung by mere seconds.

"Hah! Take that!" You exclaimed, hooting and cackling as your laughter bounces off the walls of the cave which were covered in bioluminescent bugs resembling Teylu, casting the cave in a soft blueish hue.

"Where are you??" He asks, whirling his head around.

"I'm right here dumbass!" You say, splashing the water which catches his attention.

He laughed loud, wiping his face of water. "I can't see a thing! Can you see?"

You giggled, throwing your head back. "Yeah, yeah! I can see! I see you!"

You both freeze, your splashing had ceased and you both just floated here, staring at eachother's hazy faces in the dark.

"Uhm-" He starts, scratching his head.

"Should i-"

"No-! Yes-! Go ahead"

You swim out of the water, propping yourselves onto the rough rock, he gestures you to follow him deeper into the cave and he stops walking, sticking his back towards the wall and pointing his chin at the most magnificent thing you've ever laid your eyes on.

Your jaw drops to your feet as you marveled at the sight before you.

"Holy fuck" you say.

AAAAAND THAT'S PART 2! The fight scene was incredibly fun to write as you can see I kinda lengthened it just cuz I had the creative freedom, also the scene with Jake, Neteyam, and Lo'ak gotta have some angst in this chapter, even though there's more coming in the suceeding parts. Anyways!!!! I hope you enjoyed! <3

#ao'nung x fem!reader #metkayina #omatikaya #jake sully #neytiri #ao'nung fic #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #tsireya #neteyam #spider #lo'ak #kiri #tuk #rotxo #atwow #atwow ao'nung #avatar the way of water #sold out of love ao'nung

142 notes · View notes

popatochisssp · 7 months

Note

GAH!!! I’ve had this question on my mind for so long, but do the boys have any particular tastes when it comes to interior design? Minimal, eclectic, etc… whatever boys you want to choose! Thank you!!!

This was interesting, I had to go on a bit of adventure through interior décor styles because I’m not too familiar with all the terms, but I definitely had fun~

Forgive any misuse of interior design words below, I am not an expert! XD

(Featuring many images stolen from Google)

Sans (Undertale): Sort of a revival post-modernist, not quite as loud as the original post-modern look in terms of colors, but still a mix-and-match of shapes and materials, spacious areas, not afraid of décor or accenting a space with unique pieces that don’t perfectly coordinate with the others. Comfort and space over rigid adherence to an aesthetic.

Papyrus (Undertale): Memphis style designs really capture his imagination, lots of shapes and bold, bright colors, circles and checkerboards and zig-zags. It’s fun, he likes fun things! Abstractly-shaped furniture and weird objets d’art—could use some more stuff with cool flame-patterns, or maybe some spikes here and there, but he can experiment to get the right balance in there!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Into modern styles, mostly, he does like the minimalist look but absolutely goes in for strategic splashes of color to brighten things up. Sleek shapes and clean lines are great, but absolutely must be offset by some rich lively colors for an open, welcome feel, can’t let it feel too sterile.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Favors sort of a regence look, tends toward curving lines and intricate elegance in the little details. Chair arms that swirl, fleurs in the carving of a cabinet, decorative patterns and motifs to tie everything together as a cohesive whole. He finds the charming elegance comfortable and easy to settle into.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Definitely more of an artisan/arts and crafts style kind of guy, cares less about the Look of things than he does the craftsmanship of it—he wants things to be well-made and able to stand up to consistent use, so most of what he favors are sturdy pieces and designs without ostentation or elaborate details. It may not be the prettiest, but it is homey and comfortable and ready to be actually lived in.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Empire style, he is all about the ostentation and elaborate details, silk and velvet, ebony and gold, it has to be bold and artful and dramatic (just like he is). If something’s a little too plain and simple, he’ll pass on it or find a way to dress it up prettier.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Contemporary design is more his thing, sleek lines and sharp angles, with a strong aesthetic preference for more industrial materials (glass, metal, marble, etc). Tends to avoid most color, sticking with black and white, and just a few decorative objects here and there to draw the eye. He likes the clean look over a more comfortable, lived-in one.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Big fan of art nouveau, swirling lines and curving forms. Stained glass lamps, art, and windows are big hit with him, as well as wrought iron railings or table frames and the like. He likes colors and things that feel like they flow, mostly, and any intricate detail-work that catches the eye.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Cottage style is more his speed, a little rustic and a lot cozy, with a special emphasis on plush furniture. He’s all about the comfort and the homey feel, nothing pristine that an accident or a bit of wear-and-tear will ruin quickly.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): More of an English country sort of guy, big on patterns and florals, but also into a bit of delicacy and charm—some more ornate accent chairs here, decorative curtains there, unique antiques and plants everywhere. Definitely cozy and comfortable but done in a very thoughtful and deliberate way.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Clutterbitch—wait no, I mean maximalist. He likes having a lot of stuff and putting it on display, and bright colors (especially turquoise!) make him happy to look at, so he’s drawn to that kind of thing when customizing a space. Lots of knickknacks and prints related to his hobbies, maybe a novelty end table or two, shaped like a record or a cloud or something. A bit chaotic but he probably knows where everything in it is, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He goes for a bit of a modern farmhouse look, soft neutrals with warmer rustic touches. Likely to spruce it up a little further with some bright yellows and greens, but mostly in the accents—flowers, artwork, et cetera. Also likely to decorate with lots of candles and mason jars and anything he comes back with from the home goods store, because he is very passionate about the home goods store.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Tends toward Tuscan style, warm tones, wood and tile and wrought iron, sturdy and well-crafted furniture. Not opposed to some intricate designs here and there, but not that intricate, just enough to look a little nice. Maybe a bit nicer than the absolute basics, but he’s not trying to impress anybody, he just wants cozy and comfortable, and maybe he’s earned the right to a tiny bit of fance here and there, y’know?

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Something of a traditionalist, with a strong appreciation for clean, elegant, and cohesive styles. The classics never go out of fashion—dark wood, damask patterns, ornate detailing, maybe some fine red drapery and a chandelier or two, but nothing too ostentatious. Less is more, but no need to go full minimalist to show your class, after all.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Definitely about the shabby chic, clean and simplistic styles but with a touch of wear or softness to keep it inviting. Not a sterile space that can’t be lived in, but still a bit neat and thoughtfully arranged!

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): More a fan of the urban look, exposed brick and beams but some softening elements incorporated too, like abstractly shaped furniture and décor, and lots of lighting. More minimalist than cluttered and probably not a huge fan of rugs, but he definitely wants a good balance between hard and rough, and soft and wavy aesthetics.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He can’t actually see it, but tends to favor Mediterranean styles. He likes a lot of sunlight, open floor plans, and wide doorways, and he’s a little less picky about his furniture but anything with ornate designs and detailing that he can physically feel to appreciate is a bonus. Function over form, though, comfort and utility is always foremost in his consideration.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Fond of mission style, slatted wooden furniture, simple and clean designs and only a couple accent colors that work well with them—autumnals are a favorite. Some nature-inspired touches like plants, artwork, and other accents to bring a little of the outdoors in, but not so much as to be cluttered.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Mid-century modern, for the most part, uniquely shaped items to stand as conversation pieces, but still primarily designed for utility. A little off-beat and retro, but still a homey and comfortable place to chill in.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Big into art deco, metal and glass, geometric patterns and angular designs with bold, rich colors. He finds it to have a very fun and classy feel and likes things that make a statement—so he’s likely to incorporate a lot of centerpieces and décor wherever he can to draw the eye.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Full-on industrial, brick and metal and hardwood, ideally with open and lofted spaces. It’s kind of what he’s gotten used to and gained an appreciation for along the way, so it may not be the most innately homey-feeling place, but he’s comfortable in it. Likely to accent the space with art—wall or sculpture—rather than rugs or blankets.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He’s a minimalist. He doesn’t actually have a physical body most of the time, so his taste in decorating a space tends to prioritize aesthetic over what it would be like to actually live in it. Still, he is fond of aesthetics so he’s sure to pick out at least a few interesting and attractive centerpieces—light fixtures, table décor, an accent pillow, something—to make it a little prettier.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): Sort of an eclectic/boho thing going on, lots of color and design and pretty much anything fun that catches his eye-socket. He’s very into crystals and wall hangings and art (or plants!) that can be strung up to dangle from the ceiling, so any space he’s involved in decorating is bound to look a little messy, but it’s comfortable and fun so it works out in the end!

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Give him that Hollywood glam, glossy high-shine surfaces—glass, gold, mirrors—mixed with soft velvets and satins. Mostly black and white but with a prominent accent color or two to really make the eleganza pop, he’s decorating to impress and show off his taste in design.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): Ends up falling into a bit of a steampunk style in terms of décor, lots of metal and lighting, plenty of stuffed shelves, and clockwork junk and tools lying around. He certainly has nothing against brass and leather either so y’know, if that’s what you wanna call it, there it is.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Country house design is more his speed, very fond of gingham and natural light and an overall homey feel. It’s not what he’s used to, per se, but that’s kind of…better. He likes light and open spaces, big tables for activities and soft furniture for sitting, but nothing so clean and new that it doesn’t feel like it’s meant to be used.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): International/modernist is mostly what he goes for, emphasis on steel and glass and concrete, and sharp minimalist lines. If he’s going to splurge on any patterns or color, it’ll only be in a few select pieces, nothing too outrageous.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): He prefers a bit of a rustic look to things, with a high preference for natural materials, like stone and wood. Lofts are cool, as are sturdy shelving and exposed beams, but he’s especially into a good view, so if there’s high windows or just a lot of them, he’ll be happy.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Tends toward a dark romance style, deep rich (but of course, dark) colors, soft lighting, and graceful, sometimes ornate lines. Not one to overclutter with décor and accents, mostly simplistic, but a few items here and there—quilts and dried flowers and overstuffed pillows.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): Whimsigoth, a fondness for the ornate and intricate and elegant, but a tendency towards eclectic amounts of décor—wall hangings, candles, bones, and books all artfully arranged. Very into patterned furniture with texture, from the pattern being either pressed or stitched into the fabric. A little messy at first glance but he’s actually very deliberate with his arrangements for the most balanced look.

#anonymous #headcanons #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell/fellswap #horrortale #undergloom #horrorfell #horrorswap #horrorswapfell #gastertale #transcendtale #ascendswap #underfell fruition #swapfell fruition #descendtale

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raepritewrites · 2 months

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If Heather were ever to write a memoir about being a superhero, she was going to include an entire chapter about what to do when you get sucked into a portal, because it was a surprisingly frequent hazard of the job and was confusing as hell if you didn't know what you were doing.

Fortunately, she’d been through this song and dance a few times, so she started with gathering the basics. Who, what, where, how, and when?

First, who? Some c-lister villain who called himself Vibe. The team had been working on a case of break-ins where banks would be robbed through some sort of portal technology. In and out, easy as pie, with almost no trace left behind. The guy was slick she could give him that.

Nightwing had theorized the guy might have a teleport ray, judging by the tachyon readings they were getting. Further investigation, however, and a quick conversation with Flash had revealed that Vibe was a meta created from the particle accelerator explosion of Central City, which had given the speedster his own powers. It hadn't been too hard to track the guy down from there.

Second, what? Well, bad guy plus warehouse equals superhero fight. It had just been Nightwing, Superboy, and herself who went to track down and capture the meta. The rest of the squads had all been busy on other assignments, and really, how hard could it be to take this guy down with three of their heavy hitters on it?

Apparently, harder than they'd thought.

Vibe, it seemed, was just as slick at evading capture as burglary. The idea had been for Nightwing and Scarlet Spider to wear the guy out and keep him distracted until Superboy could get in a final hit. It had briefly worked, and then everything went wrong.

Scarlet probably shouldn't have antagonized Vibe so much, but it was fun winding bad guys up. She and Nightwing had come up with some good lines as they danced around the teleporter. She had so much experience fighting alongside Nightcrawler that she assumed she could guess this guy's next move without any trouble. He would zig, she would zag. She'd been... a little too confident. Her spider sense had warned her of the danger as she swung towards Vibe for one more kick to the gut, but her momentum had been too strong, and there was no avoiding the inevitable.

Vibe had realized the game they'd been playing with him and grabbed Superboy as he'd tried to sneak up from behind, flinging him over his shoulder and into her. They'd crashed into Nightwing in a pile of tangled limbs and curses.

By the time Scarlet Spider looked up, Vibe had a new portal open behind him. "As fun as this has been, I'll be taking my leave now. This earth has always been a little too hero-happy for my tastes," the man smirked and saluted them, stepping backwards into the swirl of blue and white light.

If Heather had a nickle for every time she made a very stupid last-minute decision, she and Bruce Wayne would be in the same tax bracket. This was just another five cents in her fictional bank account. She sent a webline to the ceiling, propelling her up and off of her teammates and into the portal, which promptly closed behind her.

Third question, where?

On the other side of the portal, it dawned on Heather very quickly how stupid she was as she found herself free-falling. High-rises and skyscrapers rushed past her in a blur as she struggled to orient herself.

Some part of her brain that sounded a lot like her step-father screamed at her to throw a webline, and after two desperate attempts failed to land on anything, her third try caught a gargoyle. Her arm wrenched in its socket from the abrupt change in trajectory, and she gritted her teeth to stifle the howl of agony that crawled up her throat. She looked around desperately and spotted a rooftop not far away that she could reach.

Her landing was less than ideal, tumbling head over heels before rolling to a painful stop on the tarmac. She lay for a moment to let the panic subside, panting heavily from the spasms radiating from her arm and down her torso. She stared up at a smog filled night sky and the glowing neon sign of an office building as her brain rebooted.

Once she could hear more than just her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, she took stock of her situation. While she'd torn a few muscles in her arm, the damage was minimal compared to being a smear on the sidewalk. She'd twisted her ankle when she'd landed, and it throbbed in a familiar way - not broken, but definitely sprained. Everything else seemed negligible; cuts, scrapes, and general bruises. She would deal.

She sat up slowly and frowned at the office building's sign, declaring it to be one of Wayne Enterprises' headquarters. Why Vibe had thought running to Gotham was a good idea was anyone's guess.

She checked her comm, but only received static in reply, no matter what frequency she tried. Maybe it had been damaged in the fall? Her phone worked, but had no signal at all, not even wifi. That was strange; WE had public wifi available at all there buildings. She needed to reach the team somehow to let them know her status, and that despite her best (very stupid) efforts their suspect was in the wind. She wasn't sure where the closest zeta beam was from here, but maybe she could reach Nightwing a different way.

Did Heather feel bad breaking into the department store? Yes, a little, but desperate times and all that.

She'd grabbed a pair of jeans, a belt (because of course the jeans didn't fit right, but she didn't have the luxury of time on her side to find a pair that did), and an oversized sweatshirt. She dropped a pre-paid credit card on the counter with the tags of the items she was stealing, hoping the owners wouldn't be too mad at her. She then made triple sure that all the cameras she'd covered in webbing were still technically functional -just ineffective for a few hours - and grabbed a shopping bag from the register to stuff her gear into it.

Outside the store, it had begun raining, because this was Gotham and she had Parker luck. It was only natural. After trudging through the rain for a few blocks, Heather finally hailed a cab in a more populated part of the city. The clock on the dash of the taxi read a little after four am, and the driver looked like he wasn't thrilled to have found a customer.

"I need to get to Bristol," Heather told him, trying to be short but polite.

The cabby raised an eyebrow at her, blowing smoke from his cigarette out his cracked window. "That's going to cost you, lady," he told her flatly. "If you hadn't noticed, this is the Diamond District, that's a long drive."

"If you can get me there quickly, I'll pay you double the fare in tip," Heather promised.

Both eyebrows went up at that. "You're the boss," he shrugged and pulled away from the curb.

Once they reached Bristol, Heather had the cab drop her off at the Drake Estate, a few miles from Wayne Manor. She didn't think the cab driver really cared about where this woman in ill-fitting clothes was going at the crack of dawn out in the most expensive neighborhood in Gotham. But just in case someone asked him about it later, she didn't want him saying he'd dropped the weird woman off at Brucie Wayne's mansion. Never could be too careful.

True to her word, Heather had tipped extra generously, and the cab had taken off as soon as she was out of the backseat.

She glanced down the Drake's long driveway to where their modern estate could be seen peaking out between the tall trees and frowned distastefully. Shaking off her feelings towards Tim's parents, she settled into a fast walk and headed towards Wayne Mansion in the thinning rain.

By the time she reached the front gates, the rain was just mist that was slowly being burned off by the morning sun, and she was soaked to the bone. Wiping water off her face, she buzzed the intercom and hoped Alfred wouldn't be mad at her for the early morning call.

"Wayne Residence, may I help you?" His British accent came through the intercom sounding slightly tinny.

"Good morning, I need to speak to Dick Grayson or Bruce Wayne. It's Heather Reilly."

There was a long pause, too long. "Do you have an appointment?"

Heather frowned. "No, not exactly. Listen, I know it's early, but I really need to talk to Dick or Mr. Wayne."

"Master Wayne is a very busy man, young lady," Alfred began, in a clearly dismissive voice.

"Wait, please! It's..." she frowned harder, brow furrowing as an uneasy feeling filled her gut. "It's Heather, Mr. Pennysworth. You know, Heather? Dick's friend? We've... I mean, don't you know who I am?"

"I'm afraid your name is not familiar to me, and young Master Dick no longer resides here at the manor. Good day, young lady." The intercom clicked off and Heather stood blinking at it for several seconds.

"What the actual fuck?" She finally muttered.

Alfred Pennyworth did not know who she was. He had dismissed her with the same polite but frosty way she'd seen him dismiss hopeful gold diggers who hung off of Bruce at parties. As her brain processed this information, something else occurred to her as well.

Vibe. He had said something just before he disappeared. That their earth was too hero-happy. Their earth. As if there was more than one.

"Well, shit," Heather sighed sharply, rubbing at a pounding headache that was beginning to build behind her eyes.

Apparently, Vibe wasn't just a teleporter like her fiance, and perhaps their assessment of him as a c-lister villain was a bit hasty. Because apparently the sucker could warp not just around the world, but also apparently around the freaking multiverse?! And Heather, dumbass extraordinaire, had followed him to a parallel universe. Which meant that the only way she was ever going to get home was to find the bastard again, and there was no way she'd be able to do that on her own.

Fourth question, how?

Heather felt significantly more guilty sneaking onto the Wayne Manor estate than she had breaking into the department store.

She hoped that her Dick and Bruce - if she ever saw them again - would understand that she hadn't meant to memorize the defenses around the estate. Really, it was more Bruce's fault than hers.

She'd spent so much time working for the man, digging through the batcomputer's files and doing the menial grunt work to help hone her skills, that of course at some point she'd gotten bored and started studying the layout of the grounds and where all the motion detectors were hidden. She was only human... well, kind of. Sort of. Not important right now.

She didn't know for certain that this version of Bruce Wayne would use the same layout for his home's defenses. Hell, she wasn't even certain that this version had even become Batman. Maybe the man actually was a clueless socialite in this universe. But Heather had a gut feeling that she couldn't shake.

Like, sure, maybe there were universes out there where that was true. But... could there really be a universe where Bruce Wayne had never become Batman, and yet he'd still taken in Dick, who then would coincidentally also have a falling out with the man and move to Bludhaven? The whole reason her Dick had moved to that awful city was to establish himself as Nightwing.

Heather knew she was holding onto a thin string of hope here. But if she was wrong, she might never make it back home, and that possibility was too terrifying to even consider.

Her universe had found multiple ways to kick her in the teeth and drag her down, over and over again. Yet, that universe was her home, and she was still standing. She'd gotten back up each time with the help of her family and friends. She would figure this out, and she would come home to them.

There wasn't an option for failure.

By the time she was standing in front of the massive doors of the manor, her shoulder and ankle were starting to throb in time with her heartbeat. The sun had burned off the remaining rain and she estimated it was closer to six or seven am now. Despite knowing she looked like a drowned rat, Heather attempted to have some dignity as she straightened her clothes, pushed back her slick hair, and reached up to knock.

"I'll get it, Alfred," She heard a young male voice on the other side of the door, and she had just enough time to think Tim when a seventeen year old boy with dark hair opened the door.

Heather blinked. This... was not her Tim. Her Tim was still thirteen and only recently reached her shoulder in height. Yet, the haircut, the blue eyes, the sharp features, all of it definitely screamed Tim Drake.

The boy frowned at her. "Can I help you?"

"Uh," Heather floundered for a second, unsure. She hadn't anticipated speaking to anyone other than Alfred, Dick or Bruce. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's um, it's been a rough night. My name is Heather Reilly. You're Tim, right? I'm a friend of Dick Grayson's, and I really need his help."

"You again?" Alfred was suddenly behind Tim, wearing the most severe frown she'd ever seen on the man.

It immediately made her step back a half pace and her shoulders hunch. No one, not even her own parents, could make Heather feel like a small naughty child the way Mr. Pennyworth could. There was a reason even Batman deferred to him. "I was quite firm young lady. How did you manage to get past the front gate?"

Translation: How did you avoid all of Batman's security? Heather thought, but of course they wouldn't know that she knew about any of that.

"Please, Mr. Pennyworth, if you just let me explain the situation," Heather began, trying not to wither under his stony stare.

"How do you know Dick?" Tim interrupted. He looked just as suspicious as Alfred, but there was something else in his stare, curiosity or something like it. Tim, like Bruce, was a detective and Heather could tell she'd piqued his interest.

"Dick and I are old friends," She said quickly, latching onto Tim's interest like a lifeline. "We met when we were teenagers. We, uh, had a lot in common. Listen, if Dick isn't here could I at least use your phone? I lost mine, and if I can't talk to Dick, then I need to try and call another friend."

"Are you in trouble?" Alfred asked, looking a modicum less severe than before.

"Very much so, sir,'' Heather nodded, shifting her weight only to wince as she placed too much onto her bad ankle. "Shit," she hissed, unable to keep the curse in.

"What happened?" Tim asked, opening the door wider.

"I... fell," She said lamely, scratching the back of her neck. How could she explain that it was from a height of several stories? Oh, right, she couldn't. "Twisted my ankle. It's fine, I'm a fast healer."

Tim and Alfred exchanged a long look, and only years of working with the bats helped her parse out its full meaning. They didn't trust her, clearly. They thought she might even be lying, but they weren't going to leave someone soaking wet and obviously injured outside on their doorstep.

Alfred hummed, still displeased, "You may use the phone in the library, follow me. Master Tim, would you please bring me the first aid kit?"

"Sure, Alfie," Tim sent one more scrutinizing stare her way before disappearing into what she knew was a supply closet.

She followed the butler into the library, wincing as she dripped rainwater onto the expensive rugs. He led her to an antique secretary desk with a rotary phone on it, because apparently in every universe Bruce Wayne was that kind of old money rich, and insisted she sit down on the oak desk chair. Tim reappeared shortly, carrying both a first aid kit and a towel, the latter of which Heather took gratefully as she sat her plastic bag full of gear onto the floor.

Heather carefully squeezed water out of her hair, mindful of her shoulder as Alfred looked through the kit. "If you would remove your boot, Miss Reilly, I will check your ankle."

"Oh, I mean, you don't have to-" Heather began, the towel now draped over her shoulders.

"I insist," Alfred said firmly but not unkindly.

"You might as well let him look," Tim said with a chuckle. He was leaning against one of the many floor to ceiling bookcases. "He won't take no for an answer."

"Right, I knew that," Heather muttered, shaking her head. She missed the puzzled frowns Tim and Alfred shared as she reached down and started unlacing her combat boots.

Spider-Man and her father preferred their costumes with matching boots and gloves, the web design visible from top to bottom. But she'd long ago chosen steel toed black boots and fingerless black leather gloves for herself. She liked that it made the uniform her own, along with a modified version of her father's blue hoodie - cropped, slightly darker in hue, and made of a resilient Kevlar. The Scarlet Spider silhouette was still recognizable as the one Ben Reilly once wore, but she'd made it hers, and she knew her dad would have approved.

She got the boot off and peeled off her wet sock, hissing as the fabric stuck around the swollen ankle joint before finally coming free. Of course, it was the ankle she'd broken previously, that was just her luck.

"Okay, it's a little worse than I thought," she admitted quietly as Alfred examined the injury.

"You seemed pretty confident it was just a sprain," Tim observed casually.

Bruce hasn't taught him all his tricks yet, Heather thought as she considered how to answer Tim's obviously prying question. "Not the first time," she said as she watched Alfred pull out a roll of bandages. "I'm clumsy."

Before Tim could form his next question, a voice called out, "Drake? Pennyworth?" This was followed shortly by a boy, maybe fourteen years old, coming into the library. He was also dark haired, but much tanner than Tim and his eyes were brown. There was something oddly familiar about the kid that Heather couldn't put her finger on.

"Who is this?" The boy demanded.

"Manners, Master Damian," Alfred chided him as he finished wrapping Heather's ankle. "It's best you remove your other boot as well, Miss, to give them a chance to dry out."

Heather nodded, "right, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Damian, this is Heather. She says she's a friend of Dick's," Tim explained.

"Richard has never mentioned you," Damian said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He spoke with the slightest accent, something Middle Eastern that Heather couldn't pin down, and the more she looked at his face the more she was sure she knew him from somewhere.

"We're, uh, very old friends," Heather explained awkwardly. "We haven't seen each other in a long time." Or ever, in this universe's case.

"Tt," Damian scoffed, sharing glances with Alfred and Tim. He wasn't even attempting to hide how suspicious he thought she was. It was sort of refreshing. "Richard isn't home. He's running errands with Father."

Now Heather was narrowing her eyes, her head tilting to the side as a memory came to her. Of a painting that hung in her universe's version of Wayne Manor featuring Thomas and Martha Wayne posing with their young son. Bruce was solemn, even as a child, and Damian had the same set to his jaw.

"Oh my god," she breathed as it clicked, suddenly standing as she pointed at the boy. "You're Bruce's kid. Like, his bio kid, aren't you?"

The others gave her various confused reactions. Alfred raised one eyebrow, Tim frowned, and Damian crossed his arms haughtily.

"Of course, I am," the younger boy snapped, like he thought Heather was an idiot. Which was fair. She kind of was most days, even she could admit that. "How do you not know who I am?"

"I -" She dropped her arm and rubbed her neck. "Right, yeah, that's an excellent question." She sighed. "Okay, truthfully? I am friends with Dick, but... not your Dick?" They frowned at her, and she couldn't blame them.

"Look, I'm going to level with you. I'm not from this universe. I work with Dick on my earth with a team of heroes. We were fighting this guy - Vibe? I did something monumentally stupid, and I ended up here. I didn't realize until I was already talking with Alfred that I was even in the wrong universe because my Alfred has known me for years. I worked with Batman for a while when I was a teenager, back when Dick was still Robin, and-"

"What are you talking about?" Tim interrupted her nervous ramblings. "Why do you think we know anything about Batman?" He added angrily. Damian looked ready to commit murder, and Alfred had disappeared at some point.

Heather groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, let's just cut past the song and dance, okay? I know all about Bruce, I have for years. In my universe, he gave me almost full access to the batcomputer's files. I trained with Robin in the batcave. I know about the entrance behind the grandfather clock in Bruce's study-"

Heather realized a few beats too late that was probably not the best way to break the news.

Damian was suddenly in her face with a knife at her throat pulled from seemingly nowhere. She reacted instinctively, grabbing the boy's wrist, twisting it down until he dropped the dagger. She pushed him into Tim, who'd been pulling out his collapsible bo staff. She'd turned with the intention of escaping through the library's other exit, but only made it a few strides when the sound of a shotgun being loaded stopped her dead in her tracks.

Right, that would be Alfred, she thought numbly, lifting her hands up as high as her injured shoulder would allow before dropping to her knees.

"Do not move," Alfred ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"How did you disarm me so easily?" Damian demanded, stomping around to glare at her.

Heather gave him a small smile, which only made him angrier. "You remind me of my sister," she said instead of answering.

"I don't know what your game is," Tim told her, "but we're not playing. What do want with Dick?"

"First, poor word choice," Heather smirked at him over her shoulder. He glared back at her flatly, and she rolled her eyes. "My Tim has a much better sense of humor. I already told you exactly why I'm here. I'm in the wrong universe, and I need Batman and Nightwing to help me get home."

"Why do you keep insisting my father is the Batman?" Damian asked.

Heather sighed. "Look, we could keep going around and around on this all day, but I don't have that kind of time. Either call up Dick and Bruce so we can discuss this like adults, or-"

"Or what?" Alfred asked, suddenly reminding her there was a very protective butler with a gun pointed at her.

Heather pursed her lips, considering. "Why don't you take me down to the cave? You guys probably have a holding cell like my Batman does. You can keep me under lock and key until I can convince you I'm telling the truth, or until you can get someone from the League to come down who can wipe my memory if I can't."

"Or we could take you to Arkham Aslyum now," Damian suggested.

Heather took a deep breath, trying to be patient. Not like it could hold me. "It's up to you," she finally said.

Damian walked behind her so the three could share a whispered conference. Heather tried very hard not to hear them by humming under her breath, but it was a lost cause. Damian was coming up with some very creative forms of interrogation tactics, but was ultimately overruled by Tim and Alfred.

"Alright, let's go," Tim finally sighed. "Hands behind your back, and just keep in mind Alfred is a very good shot." She saw him pulling a pair of handcuffs from the corner of her eye.

"You're going to want to use something stronger than that," she told them mildly as Tim grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back. Tim hesitated for a moment, before Damian handed him something she couldn't see. She bit back a hiss of pain as they used what felt like metal cording from a grappel gun to bind her hands, then used the remaining cord to wrap around her arms and chest.

Better, she thought as Tim and Damian pulled her to her feet, but still not enough. Ah well, I'll let them have this one.

They blindfolded her before taking her to the batcave, maybe so they could still have plausible deniability. Heather let the boys lead her to the elevator, her spider-sense keeping her aware of Alfred's shotgun aimed at her chest. When the elevator stopped, her bare feet were treading the rock of the cave's floor as the boys prodded her along, her injured ankle really resenting the cold seeping into her bones. She couldn't surpress a small shiver, suddenly aware of her still soaking wet stolen clothes that were clinging to her.

"Relax, we're not going to hurt you," Tim murmured, misinterpreting her shudder.

"Unless you give us a reason too," Damian added, less meanly than he could have.

Huh, maybe the kid wasn't as blood thirsty as he seemed. I wonder who his mom is? I don't think it's Selina. He doesn't look anything like her. Heather pondered this little mystery until she heard a metal cage door opening and she was gently pushed inside the holding cell. Someone pulled off the blindfold before they locked her in. She blinked her eyes to help them adjust to the new lighting, taking in the somewhat familiar landscape around her.

"Good to know the giant penny and t-rex are consistent in every universe," Heather observed. "Still ridiculous, but consistent."

"Master Bruce and Master Dick are on their way," Alfred said, lowering the gun slightly but not putting it away.

Heather nodded. "I figured. So... bio kid, huh?" She added, conversationally.

Damian narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't reply.

"I totally see it now," Heather admitted, taking a seat on the cot in the cage. She brought her legs up to fold beneath her, trying to get comfortable. "I thought at first that Bruce's adoption habit was worse in this universe."

"What makes you think I'm adopted?" Tim asked, taking a seat on a stool he'd brought over.

Heather blinked in surprise. "Oh, my mistake, sorry. My Tim Drake is, so I guess I assumed."

"What happened to your Tim's parents?" Tim frowned, but there was something in his expression that Heather couldn't read.

Heather pursed her lips, considering how to explain. "They were very neglectful. At first, Bruce just had emergency custody of Tim while the state investigated why he was being left alone for long periods of time with only a maid checking on him. When they realized how shitty the Drakes were, that's when he put in the paperwork."

"So they're... still alive?" Tim asked in a much quieter voice.

Heather's heart stuttered painfully. "Oh... I'm so sorry."

Tim shook his head. "Not your fault," he said it like it was something he told people a lot, which only made Heather feel worse.

"I really am sorry. This world is so different from my own," Heather said, mostly to keep the conversation moving. She'd always hated awkward silence. "My Tim is younger, and I've never even met him before." She tilted her head towards Damian. "I mean, he might exist on my earth. Who's your mom?"

Damian tutted again, which she was beginning to suspect was a habit. "Not that its any of your business, but my mother's name is Talia Al Ghul."

Heather blinked and sat forward. "I'm sorry - the daughter of the Demon's Head is your mom? One of the most dangerous women in the world, and the next leader of the League of Assasins?"

Damian gave her a haughty nod. "I see my mother's reputation precedes her even in another universe."

"Okay, mental note," Heather muttered. "Interrogate Bruce when I get home to make sure he actually knows how condoms work."

Tim let out an involuntary snort and Damian's pride disappated back into disdain as he muttered something in Arabic that she was sure was unflattering.

"Alrighty, anyway," She sighed. "I'm assuming you have questions you want me to answer?"

"I am not sure what we could ask you that could prove your worthiness," Damian snapped. "You are a stranger to us."

Tim nodded reluctantly. "I've never heard Dick mention anyone like you." He picked up the plastic bag they must have brought from upstairs that had her gear in it, pulling out her mask and frowning at it. "What's with the spider webs?"

"On my earth, I'm called the Scarlet Spider," Heather explained, waiting for any hint of recognition on his face, but nothing came. "You know, ally of Spider-Man? Friend of the Avengers?"

"Who?" Damian asked.

"Whoa, okay, I didn't think our earths were that different," Heather shook her head. "Wait, if Spider-Man and the Avengers don't exist in this world, does the Justice League exist?"

"Of course," Tim and Damian answered almost in unison, then glared at each other in annoyance.

"That's a relief. So the team must exist too," Heather said, only to receive another frown.

"You mean the Teen Titans?" Tim clarified.

"No...? I mean the team. We work for the Justice League? But, like, covertly. We handle missions that the League doesn't want a lot of attention on, but that still needs a lot of skill." Heather explained, "There's me, Nightwing, Superboy, Miss Martian, Robin, Batgirl, Bumblebee, Beast Boy-"

"I only recognize some of those names," Tim admitted.

"Weird," Heather muttered.

"This is a waste of time," Damian exclaimed, "She's clearly lying, Drake, we should take care of her before she can reveal our identities to anyone."

"Let's pump the breaks on the murder, alright Shortstack?" Heather couldn't help but snap. "Does your Batman actually kill? Because that's seriously messed up."

"He does not," Alfred confirmed, giving Damian a reprimanding glare.

Damian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, muttering to himself. Tim and Alfred couldn't hear it, but Heather could perfectly. "This never would happen with Mother and Grandfather."

Tim's phone suddenly chimed at the same moment Heather heard tires crunching on the gravel outside the manor. "I'm guessing Bruce is here?" She asked Tim as he checked his phone.

"How did you-?"

"Lucky guess," Heather deflected.

Alfred finally lowered his gun and left, presumably to meet his employer and pseudo son at the door. Damian seemed to take this as an invitation to take out another dagger from some pocket and begin fiddling with it. Heather guessed this was his way of intimidating her, or it could have been a nervous habit. She didn't have the heart to tell him it was more cute than anything else.

The kid looked like he'd barely hit puberty. He reminded her of her own little brother and sister, which just made her homesick. She wanted to pull her phone out, just so she could see her photos and reassure herself that they were still out there, waiting for her, but she stopped herself from snapping her restraints. She needed this world's Batman to trust her, or she'd never get home.

"I'm assuming you're a meta human?" Tim asked her after he finished sending another text. He put his phone in his pocket so he could focus his attention on her fully.

"In a sense," Heather said reluctantly. "It's complicated."

"I have a friend who's the daughter of a demon, try me," Tim challenged.

"It's not that I'm refusing to answer the question, it's just seriously complicated," She explained. "Does this world have stable cloning technology?"

"Are you somebody's clone?"

"No- well, yes and no," She shook her head when he gave her an exasperated sigh. "Complicated! Ugh, okay, so my story starts way before I was born. On my earth there's a hero called Spider-Man. He was a regular guy who was bitten by a radioactive spider, giving him super powers."

"Usually when someone has a backstory like that, they turn to a life of crime, at least in my experience," Tim commented.

"Yeah, well, he didn't. I mean, he used his powers to win money in wrestling matches at first," Heather admitted, rolling her eyes. "He was young and dumb, don't worry about it - not important. The important thing is years later, Spider-Man gets a new rogue who called himself Jackal. The guy was crazy, but brilliant."

"We are familiar with the type," Damian commented quietly.

Heather snorted. "Trust me, I know, but unfortunately he was way less Nygma and his puzzles, and more like Crane with unethical experimentation. The guy manages to clone Spider-Man, except - plot twist - Spider-Man suddenly has a case of amnesia and he and the clone can't remember which of them is the real deal."

Tim whistled, "complicated."

"Oh trust me, tip of the iceberg," Heather complained, shaking her head. "I'll skip forward, or we'll be here for hours. The clone, he went by the name Scarlet Spider, eventually comes to a truce with Spider-Man and they become allies. In the meantime, Scarlet Spider and the woman who was once Spider-Man's fiance fall in love. Eventually, they have a kid." She shrugged as much as her restraints allowed her to.

"That was you," Damian guessed.

"Yep," Heather nodded. "Again, I'm going to skip forward for brevity's sake. I developed powers as I aged, but then suddenly one day my body freaks the fuck out. My DNA wasn't completely stable, being half human and half - er, clone slash radioactive meta slash freak lab accident." She sighed. Sometimes she couldn't believe this was her life. "My body mutated."

"It didn't kill you?" Tim asks, surprised.

"It almost did," she admits quietly. "Spider-Man saved my life. I was only nineteen."

"How old are you now?" Damian asked, almost politely.

"Almost twenty-four," Heather smiled. "My fiance, Kurt, is trying to plan a surprise party for me with my Dick Grayson's help. They're not succeeding, but it's adorable to watch so I'm letting it go for now."

"You weren't lying when you said you were close with him, were you?" Tim said, almost sounding like he was talking to himself.

"Robin was always one of my biggest heroes," Heather admitted. "When we finally met, he became one of my closest friends. He's practically my brother."

"That's why you were sure he would help you," Damian concluded.

"He's my best shot," Heather admitted as Bruce finally stepped into the cave, Dick right behind, followed by an Asian woman with short dark hair, and finally an African American teen about Tim's age.

Heather tilted her head at the woman and teen in confusion. The woman only smiled mildly and waved, while the teen mirrored her frown. Well, that's definitely new. Maybe this Bruce does have more of an adoption problem than mine.

"You got my message?" Tim asked.

"Yes. We've been watching the security cameras," Bruce muttered, eying Heather like she was one of the Riddler's newest puzzles. Which, ow.

"Hello," Heather said, giving a cheery smile despite the increase in suspicious eyes on her. "I'd get up to greet you, but..."

"Oh, this one has jokes," Dick said, coming to gently take Damian's dagger away. "That's refreshing. Last time we got someone from a parallel universe, they weren't any fun. Remember Bruce? The Stephanie doppelganger?"

"Dick," Bruce reprimanded before his eldest could go off on a tangent.

"Oh yeah, no, that one was no fun," Tim agreed, ignoring Bruce’s sigh. "This one says she's known you since you were Robin."

"Hey, I have!" Heather protested. "C'mon, we were all getting along so well. I mean, aside from the stabby child over there... but I have a feeling he's like that with most people?"

"We're trying to break him of the habit," Dick commented dryly.

"Did Damian stab her?" The black teen asked.

"Not quite," Tim shrugged. "She's fast."

"Aw, thanks Tim" Heather beamed. "That's like the nicest thing you've said to me all day. When I get home, I'll be sure to tell my Tim you were nice. Even if you do need to lighten up a little."

"What makes you think you're going anywhere?" Dick asked, but Heather couldn't hear any real threat in the words. She had a feeling this Dick had just as big of a heart as her world's.

"Look, obviously me being here is upsetting for multiple reasons. You guys love your privacy, and you hate having someone around who compromises that, I get it. Not to mention, it's probably not a good idea for someone from the wrong multiverse to stay here long term. I mean, I'm a biochemist not a theoretical physicist, but I'm assuming it's probably bad," Heather shrugged as much as her bonds allowed. "So, the way I see it is, you help me get back home, and we're all happy in the end. Right?"

"How can we trust that you're telling the truth?" Tim asked again, but she could tell Bruce was thinking it over.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Timmy," Heather told him honestly. "I mean, I could sit here all day telling you things that are true of my universe? Like, I know that Dick’s first pet was Zitka, the circus elephant. I know that my Tim basically blackmailed Batman into making him Robin. I know that my Alfred never uses cloves in his cooking because Bruce is allegic, which is why he never drinks the eggnog at the Justice League's Christmas party. Is any of that true in this universe? I don't have a clue. What I do know for certain is that you all are my only shot of getting home. If you won't help me..."

Heather swallowed, staring at nothing as the despair of that possibility hit her full force. "I'll never see my family again, and Kurt will never know what happened to me. Please, I'm begging here, help me get home."

Bruce crossed his arms and looked at the Asian woman that hadn't said a word so far. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, a little younger than this world's Dick. Heather had tried not to let it bother her, but the younger woman had been watching her intently the whole time they'd been talking. Heather couldn't help feeling like she was missing something as she watched the woman turn to Bruce and smile.

"Not lying. I trust her," She finally said.

The words were stilted in a way that normally Heather would associate with learning a new language, but the woman had a distinct Gotham accent. It almost reminded Heather of how her little sister used to talk when she'd started speech therapy, like the woman wasn't sure how to put her thoughts into spoken words.

"Okay, as much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, I have to ask - who are they?" Heather asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"You don't have a Cassandra Cain or Duke Thomas in your world?" Dick asked.

Heather shook her head, "Doesn't ring a bell, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. Like I was saying earlier, my timeline seems a little skewed from this one. My Tim is younger, and as far as I know, my Bruce doesn't have a bio kid. It's just Dick, Tim, Babs and me around."

"What about Jason Todd?" Bruce asked quietly, and if she hadn't known another version of this man so well she might not have heard his trepidation for the answer.

"That's... I mean..." Heather blew out a somber breath. "Jason was murdered by the Joker," she admitted reluctantly. Every face in the room fell, but there was an air of recognition to the grief. Clearly, the same fate had befallen their Jason as well.

Heather continued after a moment, "That was a few years ago. Recently, he, well... came back. Things are still a little delicate, so he's been staying with me and Kurt for the time being."

"Why isn't he home with us?" Dick asked.

Heather grimaced. "You have to understand, he wasn't in his right mind. He - well, he attacked our Tim and hurt him pretty badly. They're both doing better, but Jason hasn't forgiven himself and still has things to work through, and Tim needs time to recover mentally and emotionally. We're giving them both space until if and when they're ready to be in the same room."

"Wow, what a concept," Tim deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Bruce and Dick looked uncomfortable. Heather narrowed her eyes but decided not to ask. Not her circus, not her monkeys. She could only do so much for the Wayne family in her own universe; she couldn't possibly fix an entirely different one as well. Especially when she didn't have the complete picture.

"Ya know, I kind of wish we had a version of her," Duke spoke up. "That's like the most level headed decision I've heard from someone in this family in... no, scratch that, ever."

"Don't give me too much credit," Heather smiled, but it was self-derogatory. "I've had my fair share of screw ups, too. Sometimes, you just need an outside perspective." She sighed, wishing she could rub her eyes. "Look, I get that this is a lot to ask, but I have to track down Vibe before he disappears from this world, too. I can stay right here if it makes you all feel better, but I need help finding his tachyon signature so I can catch him and make him take us home. The batcomputer is my best chance."

"Quick question," Dick lifted a hand, frowning at her. "What do you mean by 'make us feel better'?"

Heather clicked her tongue and stood up, walking to the far wall of the cage, opposite the door. She flexed her muscles, snapping the metal grappeling cord like it was dental floss. As the cord fell into a pile on the floor, she reached forward and using two fingers on each hand, bent two of the steel bars towards each other into an 'x'. She stepped back from the cage wall and put her hands behind her back, shrugging sheepishly.

"You could escape at any time, couldn't you?" Duke guessed.

Heather nodded, chewing her cheek.

"You could have broken in here without alerting anyone, gotten what you wanted, and left without a trace," Tim added. "Just like how you got passed all of the security on the grounds."

"Well, I don't know about completely leaving without a trace," Heather hedged, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm not Kurt, I can't teleport, and I don't have invisibility either."

"Hn, perhaps you could explain your powers to us in detail while we start searching for your missing rogue," Bruce said.

She didn't know this Bruce or what had happened in his life to alter it from the man she did know, but she could hear the world's greatest detective in his voice and it made the anxiety in her chest melt. They weren't going to abandon her, they were going to help.

The only question left, was when?

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pumpkzsafeplace · 3 months

Text

story-telling week 2024 ⁺₊✧

good evening my little babybees,

and welcome to the national story-telling week of 2024.

every day for a week we will be telling stories, so grab your favourite stuffie and snuggle in close for tonight's tale ☾.

title: in space. written by: daniel errico.

I’ve decided I’m moving. I’m running away.

I’m bored of this room and I’d rather not stay.

The best place to live for a girl such as me,

Is space, with no rules, and no grav-ity.

My cat Bill and I will need astronaut suits.

Our feet will be fine if we take some snow boots.

We’ll wear yellow gloves, that you use to wash dishes.

And bowls on our heads where we used to keep fishes.

I know that it’s s’posed to be called a fishbowl.

But no fish are left since Bill swallowed ‘em whole.

For our bodies I have found us some trash bags to wear.

With our shiny new suits, we will be quite the pair!

Now the spaceship dilemma is easy to fix,

I built one last summer… you know, just for kicks.

Space is enormous, you can fly all around.

I bet I’ll see planets that nobody’s found!

As for space monsters, I am not that afraid.

A monster’s a friend that you haven’t yet made.

First thing I’ll do, is go looking for Saturn.

And fly through its rings in my zag and zig pattern.

Next I’ll go zipping by Venus and Mars.

It’s easy since spaceships are faster than cars.

Bill thinks that Neptune, has birds everywhere.

He’d be rather mad, if we didn’t stop there.

Mercury seems like a great place to tan.

But it might be too hot if I don’t pack a fan.

When I’m hungry, I’ll munch on some Jupiter fruit.

I hope that the juice doesn’t drip on my suit.

On Uranus I’ll put on a wonderful play.

The whole solar system can come — if they pay.

It’s freezing on Pluto, especially at night.

But it’s famous for hosting the best snowball fight.

Eventually, I will fly back to the Earth.

It’s really quite beautiful, for what it’s worth.

In fact, there’s no rush to explore space just yet…

There are creatures down here that I still haven’t met.

I can’t help but dream about all that’s in space.

But for now I’ll enjoy what is here in this place.

↳ linkies for full book with pictures! - here <3

gif isn't mine

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 1 year

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ok hypothetically make any 3 snakes easy and safe snakes to keep (ie no medically significant venom, fairly hardy and not like really difficult to obtain) what snakes do you make Keeper Friendly ? :]

Ooh, that's easy! :)

First: rattlesnakes! If I had to pick a specific species, I'd pick timber rattlers. Rattlers are some of my favorite hot snakes to work with, they're so sensitive and fun. They remind me of hognoses in that they're not the brightest, are great at communicating their boundaries, and are just absolute sweethearts. If it weren't for the venom, I firmly believe that a lot of rattlers would make really good beginner snakes!

Red-bellied black snakes! I literally almost moved to Australia just so I could work with these guys. If they made safe and ethical pets I would have 50, they're incredible. So calm and good-natured, and beautiful to boot!

Aaaand common European vipers. I'm a sucker for the zig-zag markings they've got, and they're super beautiful snakes, pretty calm and even-tempered as far as smaller vipers go.

#not a rating #venomous snakes

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canarysage · 2 months

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hi... don't know if you're the person to ask but do you have any tips for like. edit composition. (????) thar makes no sense . i apologize

i’m probably not the right person but fear not i’ll say some bullshit anyway. obligatory preface but i have never taken a graphic design class in my life so take everything i say with a grain of salt, or several, because idk what the fuck i’m doing

a good thing to keep in mind when editing is your focal point—that is to say, whatever it is you wanted people to be focused on. in most cases it’s probably going to be a character, but you might also have text or something else as your focal point. after you’ve picked your focal point, find ways to emphasize it—people usually do this with stroke (outlines) or with things behind the character like splatters, laces, etc. it should be relatively easy to spot a focal point in most people’s edits, even if they didn’t knowingly pick one. if your edits look janky, you probably ended up with too many things your brain is trying to focus on at once—try simplifying it or making one part pop out more than the other! this also comes into play with text. using my pinned as an example:

(still frames so they’re easier to see) you can see that len and rin are the focal points of this image because they’re outlined and because they’re in front of the text. the text is in the back because i deemed it less important than the characters—i mean, you can read my url without the image anyway.

also, sizing is a pretty big thing in composition. your brain looks at the biggest part of an image first—this is the concept behind newspaper headlines! your brain looks at the big text first, then at the smaller. you can see this reflected in my current header (displayed below, in case i change it at a later date) where “canarysage” is bigger than “resources for editors” because I wanted you to see “canarysage” first

how you align your elements is important to. generally speaking, you’ll want to keep everything pretty centered, but, as with anything, you can break this rule for the sake of creativity. when you’re making things like this directory graphic:

it’s cool to do a zig-zag sort of pattern. when making something like this, it’s probably better to do from left to right—that’s the way english-speakers (and speakers of several other languages) read things so that’s how your brain automatically goes. you should also position whatever you want to be read first near the top—in this case, the part that says “one” is in the top left, because that’s where most people’s eyes will go automatically. you can also see the central art is the focal point because of the outlines and the shapes behind it. the buttons are kept separate because they’re a solid color instead of the pattern used on the background shape—and the text stands out because it’s outlined in black, unlike the rest, and it has a pattern. if you use patterned text, outline it so it’s clearly seen and read.

you can also avoid centering things to make your edit more ‘dynamic’ (idk if that’s the right word) like i did with this header:

both eirika and the text are off center, which makes it look more interesting. also, they’re aligned differently—eirika is aligned to the right while the text is aligned to the left. this helps it seem less empty and is more fun visually

if you’re doing an edit with an even number of characters (like a ship edit) you’ll want to keep any one character out of the center, as this makes them the focal point and can kind of shunt the other off to the side. unless you’re doing matching graphics, in which case you should keep one centered, so it’s clear which is the “main” one in each piece of the set.

sizing is also important in terms of literally how small or big your edit is. headers tend to be pretty large (tumblr uses a 16:9 ratio, and twitter uses a 3:1) but things like icons or stamps are pretty small. especially with stamps, you’ll want to make your character pretty large in the stamp so they’re more easily seen. tumblr icons show up on your dashboard as 128x128, which is pretty small, so you’ll want to make sure your icon is easily discernible from that size.

also, i dont think this is necessarily a hard and fast rule, but when you’re making icons and you have to crop out a portion of the character’s head—crop out the top of the head, not the chin. i can’t tell you WHY i think this is a rule or even if anyone agrees with me, but it’s something to keep in mind. here’s an example of the two different kinds of cropping:

cropping the chin out just looks goofy, idk

since rentry graphics are just sort of dependent on the user, there’s no real hard and fast rules to composing them. just keep in mind whatever your focal point is and try to keep people’s attention on it, whether by adding random shit or outlining or whatever.

same thing with replycons, really. i like to keep my replycons semi-simple, but if you’re doing a collage-type of replycon, it’s better to keep the collage in the background for the most part, except for one or two focal pieces:

you can see that most of the collage pieces are behind rin except for the flower stickers, which are off to the corner so they don’t detract from her. the stripey-line things help a lot, too, as they lead your eye to the main part of the reply icon even without being centered—the main part being the character, of course

with moodboards or stimboards, it’s best to keep your character in the exact center—unless you have two, in which case keep them both in the middle so they’re easier to see. there’s no hard and fast rules with moodboards, but i like to keep images with similar composition near but not directly beside each other

the top middle and bottom middle of this one are both pretty minimalistic, so i kept them adjacent from but not beside each other. as for the rest of it… well i just kind of did whatever

if you’re doing a moodboard or stimboard with two kinds of themes then it’s best to do a checkerboard type of pattern

you can see that here. the pattern is food-art-food-art-ena-art-food-art-food. like a checkerboard, except ena’s in the middle

i’m being so for real i don’t understand composition at all. it’s really best to just do whatever looks best to you personally and see what happens. i hope this is helpful-ish!

yours truly, canarysage

#world’s least helpful editor tries to run a resource blog: canarysage in a nutshell #you can find a lot of resources on composition if you look it up where smarter people explain things better #but i just sort of. do whatever #ʚɞ — tips.

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miguels-talons · 11 months

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You know what is starting to annoy me, all these theories about Miguel being a imposter or the big cunning villain who planned all or that he's not supposed to lead spider society or even being spiderman, because he's too different from the others, and they start to point out his talons and fangs and his lack of spider sense or even sense of humor, as if all those characteristics is what makes spiderman

It's crazy because Mig was probably the first spiderman variant in the comics and he was purposely designed to be different from Peter, like, one quick Google and you'd know he is in fact half spider 😶

Also is such a lack of imagination to me and kinda antiethical to spiderman mythos to say one can't be spiderman bc they have different abilities....get real

I KNOW!

that theory and those "arguments" of why he can't be spider man drives me insane! because those exact people will say things like "anyone can wear the mask!" or "the point of spider man is that anyone can be spider man!" like- do you not see how hypocritical that sounds?

miguel is supposed to be the zig to peter's zag. he's supposed to be sarcastic and dry where peter is snarky and whitty. it's just the whole point of his character; to really challenge what it is to be spider man. he's still spider man- he still has the same morals and beliefs that peter and other spider people do in the end (saving innocent lives, protecting the little guy, being in the neighborhood). he may go about things differently (not saving every villain he faces for his own safety, killing some villains he believes are too dangerous, etc. which side note- he always feels guilty when he does do this sort of thing. he's not heartless), but he's still spider man

i know not everyone knows this stuff, but like you said, it's SO EASY to search it up instead of assuming! stop saying he can't be spider man because of his differences when you also say that anyone can be spider man- it's majorly hypocritical and takes from miguel's character (it took forever for him to actually be able to accept the fact that he's spider man, and that he deserves to be)

#wow i talk #ask #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man #spider man across the spider verse #across the spider verse #atsv

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fandom-monium · 10 months

Text

Sweet Poison - Part 3

Summary: In which you don't paint in color and Zagreus asks why? “Contrary to popular belief, Elysium don’t take kindly to beings like me.”

WC: 1k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones, technically it’s succubi magic aura, Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut

—

“So… why?”

“Hm?”

“Why black and white? Why not in color?” Without looking up, Zagreus thumbs through one of your old sketchbooks, the light framing his profile in a soft green. Pieces of parchment fall out and he fumbles. You shake your head with a smile, facing your easel once again.

You hate to admit it, but you think you made the right choice welcoming Zagreus into your life. His visits—brief as they are—quickly become a highlight of your day. He’s not around all the time, but when he does happen to stop by, you find the rest of the day to go by quicker, easier. Even work feels less exhausting.

It’s been a long time since you had a friend. Especially someone as easy to talk to as Zagreus. It’s… nice. He’s nice.

To think not too long ago, you tried to bring him to his knees and suck the soul out of him. You’re glad you didn’t. Mostly.

A small part of you would still love to see him on his knees, but you banish the thought as quickly as it came.

Touching Zagreus with even an ounce of your normal power feels sacrilegious. Not that it affected him before, which you still don’t understand. Still, you dampen your aura as a precaution, letting out enough so as not to strain yourself. For some reason it felt wrong to touch him in that way. He’s too good. Pure.

Ironic, considering the amount of times he’s entered your domain splattered in blood. And yet somehow, he still manages to bring you gifts between runs.

You’ve never known someone to be in possession of so much nectar. And he just hands it out freely? The demonic, selfish part of you can’t understand why. Perhaps he’s bored of the stuff. Common in his corner of the Underworld. The thought of this stuff just laying around makes you chuckle. In all seriousness, where he gets it, you suspect he’s got a supplier of some sort, probably in the deepest pits of Taratarus. The Tartarian and Asphodelish marketplaces sure don’t.

They don’t have a lot of things.

“It’s not that I can’t color. I just don’t have any,” You shrug, continuing to sharpen and blend shadows where you see fit. “Trust me. I’ve visited every market in Tartarus and Asphodel; art materials aren’t exactly high in demand.”

Zagreus looks up from your sketchbook, parchment sheets filled to the brim with charcoal and lead. “And Elysium? There’s a grand market by the arena, you know.” He’s not trying to be condescending—you know—but a dull ache forms at the back of your skull, a sour squirm rising in your chest at his ignorance. His naivety.

“And you truly believe they’d serve me?” You scoff.

“Why not?”

You raise an eyebrow, and he meets your gaze, unwavering, like he can’t see the horns, wings, and tail. He is so used to your presence, they no longer register.

That makes you no less a demon. A succubus.

You shake your head, “Contrary to popular belief, Elysium don’t take kindly to beings like me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You give him a tightlipped smile as his brow furrows, visibly crestfallen. “Don’t worry your pretty, little head, Zagreus. It is what it is.” Turning back to the canvas, you swirl your brush and mix different gray tones on your palette. Oh, why is getting the right shade so difficult?

Sensing the shift in your mood, Zagreus glances down, flipping through your old sketches, all black and white and shades of gray. “But if you had the materials, would you? Draw and paint in color?”

You don’t even have to think, your eyes focused on a particular corner of the painting. “Yes.”

A moment later, stone rumbles and you look up in time to see his footprints cool off. The sketchbook has returned to its rightful place, wedged between the leather-bound novels and trinkets in your bookcase.

Two runs later, Zagreus barges in, gasping for breath like he raced over as soon as he could. There’s burns on his arms, blood sprayed across his face, a gaping wound on his thigh as if he’d been stabbed, but none of that matters—not to him at least—as he holds out a box held with twine to you, his teeth bared in an eager smile.

And when he slaps down a handful of colorful gems for a commission, your cheeks grow sore, unable to stop smiling back.

—

AN: Succubi!Reader tried to buy colored paint once and it unfortunately did not turn out as they hoped 😔 Good thing Zagreus got the hook up 😌🫰✨️

#zagreus x reader #zagreus (hades video game) x reader #zagreus & reader #zagreus (hades video game) & reader #hades supergiant #hades video game

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amethystpath-writes · 1 year

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Could you do something with team having to lock up stoic team member. They expect him to be fine and they don't want him going on a particularly dangerous mission and getting hurt further. They don't expect him to spiral into panick behind locked doors and are guilt-ridden when they return.

He's Gone

NOT A PR0MPT

The mission went flawlessly; Team anticipated every backfire at Villain's base: alarm systems, security cameras, standing guards, Villain. They avoided each almost perfectly, which was a surprise to them. As confident as they felt, it was their first mission without Leader. After seeing the state he was in, it was easy to say the team was terrified; it aided their thorough preparation, to say the least.

There was no ease in the thought of escaping, but the Team felt better once they were on their way to base. Leader was there, and he would be so proud of them for orchestrating this mission on their own, and for carrying it out. They had all they needed to defeat Villain. All the trauma Leader had gone through could be laid to rest.

Arriving to the base, everything seemed normal. Of course, Leader had been left in the medical room, but they were sure he had ventured out.

Walking into the kitchen, they noticed otherwise. There was a cake in the fridge they had left for Leader, when he was ready to leave his bed. It was a celebratory cake, for Leader's return.

"Do you think he's still asleep?" Hero asked.

"Could be. He was in pretty rough shape when we left him. He must have taken the painkillers we left for the wounds." Other Hero shrugged it off, a little less concerned than she probably should have been.

Hero put a finger to her lips. Just on the way home, she had chewed every nail down to the quick. "I think we should check on him."

"You regret leaving him alone, don't you?" Other Hero sighed. "He said he would be fine. We were right to trust him; it's what he would have wanted-"

"But he was wrong," Hero argued.

"We don't know that yet."

But Hero did know. Otherwise, Leader would have been out here. He would have dove into the cake and hugged Hero and Other Hero when they walked through the door. Then, he would have offered a dinner with a team briefing. The house shouldn't have been this silent.

As Hero made her way to the medical room, she felt her palms sweating. "Leader? Leader, are you in here?" She didn't wait to open the door, and as she did, she drew in a quick breath. Her eyes burned with tears. "Leader, oh my god. Other Hero, come here- hurry!"

Leader was crumpled against the wall, clothes torn at the seams, skin scratched in frantic, zig-zagging lines- Hero couldn't believe her eyes. "Leader, talk to me, okay? What's going on? What happened?"

Of course, Leader was in no fit shape to respond.

"I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead. I killed you. I let you go by yourselves. You were dead. You were dead."

"Leader, I'm here! We're- we're both here. Other Hero, tell him you're here." And they did. They repeated it over and over again if only to stop the panic rising from Leader.

"Villain is dead!" Hero finally screamed, and although it wasn't true, and although Other Hero looked at her like she was insane, Leader stopped.

"But he killed you."

"He didn't kill us," Hero said. "We killed him. We are all safe, Leader. He's gone." Leader took heavy breaths, and staring into space, he leaned against Hero. "He's gone. It's okay," she assured. "He's gone."

Even though he wasn't gone at all.

#not a pr0mpt #He's Gone #i wonder if the term goosebumps is universal #you guys all know what those are right?#do we pull out the whump tags?#those have been retired for quite some time #leader whump #team whump #hero whumpee #leader whumpee #villain whumper #this one has been in my drafts for so long and I totally forgot about it. I apologize many times.#How is everyone?!#I've regained my motivation to write so I'm hoping to write more often.

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lewisyellowhelmet · 2 years

Text

ocean blue (lewis hamilton x reader)

summary: a collection of you and lewis on holiday by the beach. 2k+ (18+)

talk to me here ! or read everything else here!

Lewis is always tuned into the direction of the ocean. Anytime you ask him, anywhere, he can gesture to a particular direction, tell you how far away it is. You were a fish in another life, you tell him, licking the salt water off him after he collapses on the beach next to you. Maybe, he muses, shaking out his wet hair, only if you were there.

ii.

For a weekend, you go to the coast. A spot that’s quiet, far from town, but the surf is good, the waves constant. Some of his friends come, and the house is sprawling across the dunes, all wood and overhanging balconies. It’s too cold to sunbathe, walk through the shallows, so you bring a stack of books, drink a lot of tea, listen to the ocean. Lewis sleeps better than he has in months, the window open for the sound of the repetitive pattern of waves. He wakes you, gently, in the mornings. The windows steamed up with condensation, rain on the roof. His warm body snuggled up to yours, lazy kisses under your ear, down to your collarbone.

“Good morning,” you rasp, not sure if it’s a dream or real. The cold air outside the bedclothes is biting. His hands are hot on your tummy, up under your t-shirt.

“You were dreaming about me,” Lewis tells you, his mouth under your jaw now, up to your cheek, his eyelashes fluttering on the skin of your nose.

“How do you know?”

“You were saying my name,” he murmurs, and you flush, remembering why you were calling for him, the dream returning in hazy snatches as you start to wake up. He kisses you softly, your top lip between his, lingering. Your body hums in response, a current of energy that connects you to him.

“And because of this,” Lewis says, his hand slipping down your belly, into your underwear, to hold where you’re already hot and pulsing. You don’t need him to tell you, it’s easy enough to know from the way his finger slips into you. You’re wet already, had dreamt of him doing this, somewhere nameless, a memory more than anything. You could be embarrassed, deny it, but your body makes the decision for you, arching up into his hand. Lewis laughs, but it’s fond, and he dips his face to kiss you properly.

iii.

You sit on the beach in one of Lewis’ big coats, bare feet in the sand. Your book lies open, but abandoned, pages fluttering in the wind. A thermos of tea is half buried in the sand beside you. You watch Lewis surf, slick and graceful in his wetsuit, shining wet. You hadn’t expected it to be this captivating, the elegant dance of it, his strength working in tandem with the power of the ocean. When he catches a good wave, his whooping is carried to you on the shore by the wind, the laughter of his friends. He’s better than most of them, jumps to an easy crouch on the board, flies through the tunnel of froth to emerge victorious at the end of the wave. You could write poetry about it, the way he moves, the endless roaring of the waves, the grey clouds, gaps of sunshine breaking through.

They call out to each other as they paddle out for the next set, bobbing black shapes as they crest each ignore wave, patient. Finally turning to catch the perfect one, angling the surfboard just right, Lewis seemingly in control of every moment, what you know must be quick actions seem slow, like he has all the time in the world to get to his feet, balanced perfectly. The lip of the wave curls, and he powers down the body of it, zig zagging across, leaving currents in his wake. It curves over him, the tunnel, and just at the last second he emerges from the whitewash, grinning. Even from the beach, you can hear him laughing.

iv.

Before dinner he drives you out to the point. The rental car is a mammoth of a four wheel drive, but Lewis controls it easily. It’s distracting, watch him drive, always. The flex of his hand, the crook of his neck when he checks his blindspot. He’s packed good red wine and vegan banana bread, spreads a blanket out over a flat rock. He’s boyishly proud of his makeshift picnic, overlooking the crashing ocean, roiled by a coming storm. The sun sets in reds and pinks, overtaking the whole sky. Lewis takes a picture of you standing in front of it, a silhouette, puts it on his Instagram story and then hides his phone somewhere it won’t distract him. When you walk back to him on the rock, he reaches out, pulls you down to kiss him. His face is warm, even in the cold wind, and you crawl into his lap, face in his shoulder, held like a small child. You can feel his heart beating. You could sit here forever, listening to the waves, wind pulling at your hair, but hidden in the warmth of him. Still, time passes, and you want more wine, emerging from his chest to find your glass. Lewis watches you sip, kisses your red mouth after, licks the taste out of you. Your legs either side of his waist, still in his lap, grinding down onto him like two teenagers hooking up on the cliff. You shiver when he takes your jumper off, so he carries you to the car, lies you out in the backseat, kneeling between your legs. It’s cramped, and heartbreakingly intimate, the wind battering the car, Lewis breathing hot air onto your cold skin. There’s no rush, nowhere to be, no one waiting. Just Lewis taking his time undressing you, helping you wriggle out of jeans, covering your body with his so you don’t get chilly. He kisses you for a long time, his hand between your legs, working you into something mindless and messy, wriggling under him, mouth by his ear saying more, more, more. Eventually, he gives in, everything almost too humid in the car now, slick bodies. The heaviness of him over you, the way he shakes as he guides himself inside you, sighs into your mouth, has to hold himself still so as not to lose control.

Your face pressed into his neck, breathing him in, sweat and the ocean, so familiar, so safe in the car. Surrounded by him, knowing nothing but him and how he makes you feel,

“Is that good?” He asks, his voice rough, “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you whisper, hands sliding over his back, pulling him closer, “Yes.”

“Look what you do to me,” Lewis tells you, one afternoon when you’re alone in the house. His friends have gone home now the weekend has passed, but Lewis wants to stay a few more days, just you and me, he’d said, and you tried to hide how much your heart swelled. The remnants of a Monopoly game are strewn across the coffee table, all the properties with houses on Lewis’. He’d bankrupted you, and asked for you to pay him in a different way, suggested that then maybe he’d let you go debt free. You’d find his deal creepy from anyone else, but for Lewis you’d scrambled up onto the couch with him, eager to please. You’ve barely kissed when he’s pulling your hand to his lap, the already hard length of him in his sweatpants.

“See?” He says.

You can’t help but laugh at him, if only from the pleasantness of being reminded of how human he is, how his body reacts to you. Just from a kiss, a touch. It’s nice to know you’re wanted just as much as you want. He rolls his eyes at your teasing, but it’s cut off when you bow your head, pull him out of his pants and spit on the wet, pink head of him, watching it drool down the shaft. Lewis groans, and his hand twists into your hair.

“Baby,” he says, and then seems to lose all language skill as you sink your mouth down onto him, tucking him into your throat, your hands around the base of him, down to cradle his balls, pulled up tight and close to him. Lewis has slumped into the couch, the tense muscles of his belly on show as you blow him, messy and wet and filthy. His breath stutters when you gag around him, spit dribbling out of your mouth, go back for more. He comes quick and hard, hot in the back of your throat, each of his moans sliding into another as his hips twitch up into your mouth with each wave of his orgasm. His eyes are heavy and his jaw slack when you sit up, licking your lips.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he tells you, his voice rough, and drags you in to kiss himself out of your mouth.

vi.

The house sits on the bluff, so you can sit wrapped in blankets on the front porch watching the sea while Lewis boils the kettle. You’ve been trying to count all the different colours of blue the ocean produces, your phone full of pictures of waves breaking. On your walk this morning Lewis had written your names in a big love heart on the sand. Stood with you in the water up to your ankles and kissed you in front of it. Gonna love you forever, he told you, tucked your hair behind your ears, can’t wait.

Now, he brings you a steaming cup of peppermint tea, ginger for him. You curl into his side on the driftwood couch, mug held carefully in your hands. Lewis kisses the top of your head, smoothes his hand down the back of your head to tuck you in closer.

“I put cold water in for you,” he says, and you smile over the rim of your mug, just how he knows you like it, ready to drink. You watch him watch the waves roll in, a peaceful, calm expression on his face. He wants to teach you how to surf, he says, but it’s too rough here. He’ll take you somewhere different, somewhere warm, like Hawaii, next month, and teach you properly. The relaxation is easy to melt into, sat with him on the couch, sipping tea, smelling the ocean. The silence is warm and soothing. No need to break it. Comforting just to sit in the quiet, lean into each other.

He gets fidgety, eventually, always needs something to do. When he kisses you, he tastes like ginger, warm and bitter. Your fingers close around the soft fabric of his hoodie, drawing him in. His big hands are warm on your face, your neck, kisses you and kisses you like he could sit here forever, sucking your lip into his mouth. There’s no one around, no reason to stop, when he gets his hand in your sweatpants, rubs his fingers over you. Gasping in ocean air as he fucks his fingers into you, slow and steady, curling them inside you into the spot that makes your eyes squeeze shut.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you, in this soft voice that seeps its way all through your body. Your hands grasp at him, wanting him closer, and he tucks you in against him, kisses you lazily as he works his hand against you. When you come, you see the whitewash of a crashing wave behind your ears, hear it, Lewis’ body sheltering you from the cold.

vii.

On the last night you decide to light the fire, nothing more than a pot bellied stove in the centre of the lounge room. The wind whistles down the chimney, but the flames are stubborn. You put pillows on the floor, play cards, inch closer together until the game is abandoned and you’re watching Lewis pull his hoodie over his head, the fire reflecting warm shadows on his bare chest. The room is cosy, and warm, dimly lit, and it feels like a cheesy romance novel come to life, watching him undress, take you out of your own clothes. The phrase making love flicks across your consciousness, as Lewis ensures there’s a pillow under your head, the blanket is between you and the floorboards. You’re impatient, eager for him, but he kisses his way slowly down your body, lingering at your tummy, your hips, before his mouth is on you, kissing you there greedily, his tongue dipping into you. The feeling is overwhelming, panting knees pulled up around his head, catching his eye when he looks up your body at you. When he crawls back up, his mouth is wet from you, his gaze heavy, his cock dragging hot up your thigh.

“Lewis,” you breathe, trembling, throbbing on the edge of orgasm.

“You’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you,” Lewis croons, his lips ghosting over yours, letting you take his cock in your fist to rub it over yourself, so close its hurting.

“Yes,” you tell him, wild with it.

“You want my cock so bad, look at you, begging for it.”

“Yes, please, please.”

When he slides into you, the world pinpoints on just that, how he’s too big for your body, stretches you out, takes up space you didn’t know you had. The way the breath punches out of him as he finally feels you. He swears, quietly, so it doesn’t even seem like a bad word. And then your leg up over his shoulder, and he’s fucking you like he’ll never stop, sure, steady movement of his hips, his head bowed to yours so he can kiss you. Your orgasm peaks, crying out, hands low on his back, almost too much as it crashes through you, white hot and overbearing. Lewis fucks you through it, whispering against your mouth, about how good you feel, how good you’re taking it, how much he loves you, adores you, is obsessed with you. Your body never seems to come down from the orgasm, hovering on the other side, heat and power washing over you. Lewis is sweating and breathing hard when he buries himself into you, fucks unsteadily into you as he comes, groaning and shivering.

You turn your head to watch the fire, after, Lewis laid out on top of you, his face in your neck. He might be sleeping, worn out. But his hand is tracing soft patterns on your hipbone. From outside, you can hear the steady waves of the sea.

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