Use Your Words, Love.

“use your words, love.”

but he’s shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth as he coos down at you, telling you how pretty you look going all stupid for him :(((

— JOHN PRICE

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FEEL

your writing never fails to amaze me??

༄ breath of venus ༄

chapter ten: incident report

synopsis: a girl born from nothing has spent her entire life trying to be everything her family and her clan needs. but when dead faces and old ghosts come back to haunt her, her life takes a sharp turn. the question is: for better, or for worse?

chapter summary: lyle wainfleet is sent some concerning news from an unlikely source, and it takes him back a year to two terrible events that occurred on the same day. the rda was never righteous, just as venus was never pure. but to what extent was she justified? bloody hands are often times hidden by omission, and our players are no different. saints are born from bloodshed. tread lightly.

warnings: READ READ READ. body horror. vivid descriptions of gore. mental distress. death. pregnancy and birth. birth complications. blood. did i say death? mental breakdowns. death of innocence.

a.n.: i told you you would feast. but i’m serious, READ THE WARNINGS.

word count: 14.5k

“you died screaming,

yet,

the monster

who took your

place was silent.”

-you are a weapon, and weapons do not weep.

༄

The world around Lyle was asleep and awake at the same time, ever active and ever changing. His and the other recombiant’s tanhì glowed and dimmed in time with their breath and heart beats, just as the other bioluminescence of Pandora shifted. On earth, you knew everything was alive. On Pandora? You could see it happen, watch it breathe. You could sit for hours and see non-existent lungs fill and drain of air.

Venus had called it life. Lopez had called it beautiful under his breath.

Lyle wasn’t a poet; he called it freaky. Like being watched by eyes you couldn’t see.

Nonetheless, he understood the wonder of it all. Religions had been made off less. But to him, at least a tiny part of him at least, this was still a place of terror. Pandora’s box had been filled with evil when its namesake had opened it to humanity. Yet here they were, crawling to it like bees to honey.

Lyle scrunched his nose at the comparison.

Yes, you could watch the landscape for hours. But when you couldn’t explore it, looking from the same vantage point got rather dull.

He checked his analogue watch, reading 01:45 off the face. Internally, Lyle groaned. He had had the bright and gracious idea to take two shifts tonight. Specifically, he had forced Quaritch to go to sleep, insisting that he would take care of his watch.

One of the two reasons for him doing so were the bags forming under the Colonel’s eyes. The man never seemed to really, truly sleep. He swore that he just laid for hours on high alert and rose when the rest of the squad did.

The second reason was sitting on the other side of the tree, staring into the distance and twirling her songcord. Lyle could hear the clicking and rolling of the beads as Venus did it. He himself had fiddled with his knife and rifle back and forth for the past hour and forty-five minutes just to keep himself occupied.

This was his cycle: look at Quaritch, check on the squad, listen to Venus, mess with your tablet, check your gun.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

But by now his gun was clean and loaded, his knife sparkling, and his playlists skipped through. He was bored out of his mind, and his hands itched to do something. Anything.

Lyle had been like this ever since the thanator attack. Since Venus had come down with bloodshot eyes and the Colonel with a far off look. Something had happened, something that left them both unsatisfied and antsy.

And if there was anything he hated more than early morning watch shifts, it was being left out of the loop.

He slapped a hand over his shifting tail, tucking it between the back of his knee and thigh to keep it still. The last thing he needed was to hit Brown's face and wake everyone up.

He closed his eyes and focused back in on the sound of the swaying trees and shifting life around and below him, trying to clear his head. It was no use, of course, and he ended up accidentally fazing into the soft words of the girl on the other side of the tree.

Venus hadnt spoken since the morning after Tamar's death. At least, not when strictly necessary. Gone were the playful jabs and the sarcastic commentary and her laughter.

She was trying to mourn in the best way she could when surrounded by enemy soldiers. She had no time to herself, no Tree of Souls to connect with, no elder to ask for guidance.

But Venus did have these quiet moments, when all were asleep and the forest covered her voice.

Lyle leaned his head back and let the sounds creep to his ears, keeping his breathing soft and slow.

“Lie si oe neteyamur

Nawma sa'nokur mìfa oeyä

Atanti ngal molunge

Mipa tìreyti, mipa 'itanti”

Lyle didn’t know much about the Na’vi, but after spending so much time around Grace, he had picked up a few cultural details. He vaguely understood the importance of a songcord, and Venus often caught him staring at hers.

He and Grace may have been on rocky ground at the time, but he knew exactly where the shell and pearl at the top of the string came from.

Translating the words was slow going, but he eventually got the meaning. He already knew who Neteyam was from Venus’s stories. The fifteen year old olo’ekte, the eldest son of Jake Sully, and the only Sully kid he hadn’t yet seen.

It was during the sharing of one of these stories that Lyle pieced together that Venus was always strategic with them. Every word that came out of her mouth was tactically meaningless to the recoms; there were no secret war plans in them, no hidden routes to strongholds, and no indications on the location of Jake Sully.

She was giving them nothing.

A part of him felt guilty for trying to worm information from her in such a way, to exploit her trust to reach their goal. But her sideways looks and narrowing eyes told him that she was just as aware of their snooping, and therefore she kept everything useful close to her chest.

She had played up her innocence and her age, acting the part of the troubled teen. And she was some of that, but again, Lyle was not entirely oblivious to Na’vi culture.

He was well aware that they reached maturity around sixteen years old. He knew that Venus had gone through ceremonies to cement her place in the clan as a warrior.

The girl among them was a woman, more than capable of killing them all and easily able to manipulate each and every one of them.

He wondered what Grace would have thought, but he knew instantly that the woman would have been proud. A part of him was proud, too. When he wasn’t acutely aware that they were on opposite sides of the war, and the only thing keeping a knife away from his throat was Venus’s empathy and the tracker in her arm.

It didn’t escape him that Venus had loyalties in the Tawkami clan, either. Loyalties that would very much so like to sink poison arrows into their chests for so much as touching her.

A soft sob snapped him from his thoughts, and he closed his eyes tight and pressed his ears to his head. The familiar mantra rose in his mind, bashing down the urge to climb to the other side of the tree.

This is war. She is safe, and this is war. She is not injured. This is war. This is war. This is-

He was going straight to the assigned psychologist when they got back to base.

Lyle wondered what it would have been like if they had managed to grab a different kid instead of her. Hell, he wished they had. Maybe then they could complete this mission without moral conflict or hold ups.

But he also understood that Venus was as much a mercy as she was an anchor. Her brother and youngest sister had bit the shit out of their respective holders arms, and Kiri, who he knew the least about but who’s mention always led Venus to give him a sidelong look, would have most likely just stayed silent.

And God forbid they have gotten Neteyam. Venus understood diplomacy. Lyle wasn’t so sure a fifteen year old son of Sully would have let them live this long, no matter the repercussions.

Lyle was seriously contemplating trying to speak with her when a soft ding alerted him of a notification on his tablet.

He clicked on the device and logged into his emails, glancing briefly across the subject line. Lyle’s heart halted in his chest.

TELL HER.

The sound around his ears dropped out as he read the sender id.

Dr. Gabriel Alza.

The main medical technician of the recombinant squad. The man who had injected a tracker into Venus’s arm. The man who he had always thought to be cowardly.

Was now sending him classified RDA documents at two in the morning.

Dr. Robert Alza. Bridgehead, Pandora. alzar@rda.gov.

May XX, 2170.

Robert Alza

Lead Medical Technician of the Recombinant Program and Deja Blue Unit

Bridgehead, Pandora.

RDA.

Cpl. Lyle Wainfleet,

Forgive me for this sudden email. I am aware of the hour, but there is no time for fromalities. There has been talk at BH for some time now of a Na’vi who had gone rogue about a year ago and destroyed two of our patrolling Scorpions. There was a group of military that specifically wanted to find this Na’vi and convict her. But the idea seemed too tedious and would take far too many reasources. They had a picture, which I will link here(📎), but it was far too vague to actually find the woman.

I’m telling you this because they have found her, and she resides with you now.

Below, I have linked two articles written by the RDA, one of which involves the Lone Na’vi, and the other which will alert you as to the state of the Tawkami tribe, which you will no doubt soon come into contact with.

Additionally, this email is coded to dissapear once all attachments have been reviewed. There will be no trace of it once it has been read. The RDA does not want these notes open to the public or to its personal.

📎 incidentreport.rda.doc

📎 classified-attack/angelofdeath.rda.doc

They know that I know. She must be protected at all cost, Corporal. They intend for her to have a far worse sentence than death. If they find out that Venus Sully is the Angel of Death, you will wish you had never found her.

They are coming for me.

Warn her. Before it’s too late.

It felt like the ticking of a time bomb. Like looked down the barrel of a gun.

Lyle clicked on the first link.

༄

“Lilliana, c’mon! We’re going to miss it!” Venus called over her shoulder at the tripping avatar behind her, her hand clenching her wrist in a death grip.

It was the summer festival in the Omatikaya village, and everyone was celebrating. Preparations had been made many cycles in advance. Hunting parties gathered, supplies prepared, dancing and festivities arranged.

And for the first time since the war, the dream walkers were allowed to participate.

“Not everyone was born in their bodies, Cielo.” Lilliana wheezed as Venus finally slowed to a stop, and the sixteen year old smiled brightly as her older friend laid her head on her shoulder.

“You won’t be able to use that excuse when you’re training, Lilly. You have to start somewhere.” Venus hummed as she continued to march further into the village, though she slowed her pace out of consideration for Lilliana’s lack of balance.

The woman had been out of her avatar body for weeks, stuck researching new synthetic plants for the humans to grow to eat and medicines to heal them. The lack of exercise left her avatar body weak. But Venus had refused to allow Lilly to stay in her ventilated trailer for one more hour.

Though she pretended to ignore them, Venus felt her companion go tense at the gaze of the Omatikayans. They were unused to any dreamwalkers besides Norm, and the only physical deviation they usually saw were Venus, Lo’ak and Kiri, who got a pass by being Toruk Makto’s children.

Venus used her approval as a buffer, and once she met the gaze of the onlookers they quickly glanced down in embarrassment. Lilliana squeezed her side appreciatively, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge either the curious eyes nor Venus’s protectiveness.

Deep down, she understood that Lilly didn’t enjoy relying on her endorsement to gain access to the goings-on of the Na’vi, and now was no different.

“I just wish they’d stare at something other than my eyebrows or my fingers. If they just listened to me then they’d see I wasn’t like the soldiers…” Lilly said quietly into Venus’s ear, and she nodded in agreement.

“It takes time.” Venus said, and again Lilly squeezed her, this time in solidarity. She’d seen firsthand her stumbles and her victories in gaining appreciation in the clan. She had it firmly now, but her body bared the price in scars along her skin and her memory. Venus had earned her place, and the Omatikaya had finally agreed to let Lilliana earn hers.

The two entered the family hut, greeted by the war zone that was the Sully girls getting ready for a ceremony.

Neytiri had wrestled little Tuk into sitting in her lap, and Kiri was busy drawing patterns along the youngest’s skin. Tuktirey squirmed impatiently, and the moving only grew worse when she caught sight of Venus.

She was quick enough to catch Tuk by the shoulders before she could smudge white paint along Venus’s freshly scrubbed skin, and she kissed her sisters forehead before pulling her back to her mother.

Neytiri greeted her eldest with a smile and a tired look, but her gaze sharpened when she caught sight of Liliana in the doorway. Venus lay a gentle hand on her mothers shoulder as she turned back to Lilly.

The woman stood awkwardly in the doorway of the hut, holding the flap with one hand as if ready to bolt at a moments notice. But with Venus’s reassurance, Neytiri gestured Lilliana further inside, and the woman sat beside her to make more paste to decorate Venus.

Lilliana had been eighteen when she arrived on Pandora, sent as an intern for Grace Augustine on the same ship that her father had been on. Her and Jake only crossed paths once, and that was the first day Jake had partnered with his avatar.

It was easy to forget that Neytiri and her were the same age, especially when Lilliana was in her avatar. But the way the women settled shoulder to shoulder, working diligently to prepare the girls for the oncoming festivities, was a reminder of their shared years.

Venus allowed herself a private smile as she settled down and began to undo the braids of her hair.

The celebrations began at sundown, with Venus accompanying her grandmother in the opening ceremony. Soft feathers adorned her arms by cuffs, and she lifted her hands to the stars to thank the Great Mother for a kind spring and good hunting. Her people yipped with each sure step of her feet, and soon she was joined by other dancers, their bodies moving to the beat of log drums.

By the time Venus took a break, her body was already hot and sweaty from effort, and she leaned on Lilliana as they sipped sweet wine from carved cups.

Lilly was dressed in her mothers clothes. Of course, she had tried to tell Neytiri that she didn’t need them, but her mother was stubborn as tree roots. Venus had insisted that the woman looked beautiful, but Lilliana had simply shook her head.

“What about him?” Lilly whispered now, and Venus looked to where she was inclining her head.

“At’lanu is too proud, ‘eylan. He would never mate with a ketuwong.” Venus replied with a sip from her cup, and Lilly swatted at her.

“Do not call yourself alien, V.” she said softly, but Venus only shrugged.

“They call me what they wish. If that is how they see me, then I will not spend my life trying to force them to change.” Already, Venus could feel the haze from the wine at the edge of her mind. She didn’t yearn to be drunk, but she welcomed the ease that the alcohol brought. It was an unfortunate truth, however, that this ease brought thoughts that were normally so deep to the surface. Lilly pulled her closer to her side, and Venus wished suddenly that she had gone flying instead of coming to this party.

But before she could sink more into her self-doubt, she spotted a figure moving towards them.

“There is a very handsome and very interested man heading this way.” Venus hissed to Lilliana, and the woman’s gaze snapped forward.

She knew Cantù well enough. He was a friend of her father- a rather quiet man with a gentle manner and a strong gaze. She had hunted with him, and he had been one of the many to guide her in archery and banshee flying when her parents were otherwise occupied. He was handsome, and he was unmated.

And right now, he was looking directly at Lilliana.

“He will ask you to dance, and you will say yes.” Venus whispered to her urgently, but Lilly was shaking her head. “There’s no way I’m going out there, V. I’ll have no idea what I’m doing.”

But Venus was already straightening her friends hair and top, her body buzzing with excitement. “I’ve had enough of your longing stares, Lilly. Here is an opportunity. Take it.”

Lilly opened her mouth to again protest, but a deep voice brought her attention away from Venus.

“Tsakarem, I see you.” Cantù greeted Venus, and she returned the gesture. Beside her, Lilliana hardly breathed. “Brother, what brings you away from the festivities and over to us?” Venus asked with a knowing smile.

Cantù dipped his head to her respectfully and turned his eyes to Lilly. “I was wondering” he asked with a soft tone “if your friend would care to dance?”

Venus watched Lilly’s wide-eyed expression as she worried her lip between her teeth. Slowly, her grip on Venus’s arm loosened, and she placed her palm into Cantù’s outstretched hand.

“Yes.” was Lilliana’s reply. “Yes I would.”

As they walked off, Tarsem took Lilliana’s place at Venus’s side. “I’d like to say I’m surprised.” the young man said, taking a sip from his own cup.

“I give them six months.” Venus said, casting a side long look at Tarsem. He returned her gaze with a mirthful eye, the corner of his mouth already turning up. “A wager? That’s much too short of a time to be so certain, Venus.” he admonished, swirling his wine. “I say at least a year.”

Venus shook her head. “What will you lose for that, ‘sem?”

Tarsem offered his hand to her, three fingers and one thumb open. “My pride.” he said.

Venus shook his hand with hers and said “I hope you enjoy watching me rob you of it.”

༄

Venus was right, of course. For while Tarsem knew tradition, Venus knew Lilliana.

Lilly and Cantù were mated before Eywa five months later, and only two months after Venus’s seventeenth birthday. The two had become inseparable , and when Venus wasn’t teaching Lilliana the ways of Eywa, Cantù was.

There was some minor upheavals that came with the union. While Lilly had gone through the trials to become one of the people, she had not yet made the soul transfer. It was taboo to many to not be fully dedicated to the Na’vi way, but still become mates.

Venus had shook off these doubts by logic: her father still had a human body when he mated Neytiri, and had not gone through the ceremony for some time afterwards. It was only a matter of time until Lilly would do the same.

It was the week of the ceremony when everything started to go wrong.

Venus and Lilliana had risen early for a hunt, intending to be back before midday. But Lilly was ill, and had not lasted an hour before she had told Venus that she was not feeling up to it.

Venus had a sinking feeling in her gut as she led her friend to her ikran, and Mo’at had only studied the woman for less than a minute to confirm her fears.

“You are pregnant, child.” the Tsahík said solemnly, and Venus felt her hope sink.

Lilly’s face burst with joy, before it fell at observing the faces around her. “That’s…bad?” she asked.

Venus made eye contact with her grandmother, who nodded.

“If there is a child in you, then there is a chance that the soul-transfer could disrupt its development.” Venus said as she looked down at her hands. “It’s much stress on your body, so the possibility of the baby perishing is large.”

She would not look at Lilly.

“You must make a choice.” said Mo’at, her voice firm. “Now.”

Venus glanced up and caught Lilly’s determined eyes, and a knife buried in her gut.

“Is there a way that I can still have the baby, even if i’m in two bodies?” she asked Mo’at, though she held Venus’s gaze. Her hand found Lilliana’s.

“There is always a way, child. But it will be hard.” Mo’at explained.

Lilly squeezed her fingers.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Lilliana stated, and Venus felt a shift of something dark fall over her shoulders.

༄

Slice, went the knife in Venus’s hand as she cut the paywll root, trying to drown out her grandmother’s words and her own thoughts.

“It’s foolish.” hissed Mo’at as she rubbed oil into Lilliana’s swollen ankles. “To even think that such a plan will be fruitful.”

Slice.

“They need to get their barings, grandmother. We cannot know how to fight the sky people if we do not see their arsenal.” Kiri added, breaking her focus on her weaving for only a moment.

Slice.

“They can get their barings by scouting on foot, not as flying targets on their ikran.” Mo’at’s scowl deepened.

Slice.

“Venus.” Lilliana chided, and the girl’s gaze snapped away from the root to her now eight month pregnant friend. “Please, you’re going to cut yourself.”

Venus heaved a sigh, apologizing. Mo’at shook her head at her granddaughter. “It’s no good to stew, child. Your father did not take you because you are safer here. Be grateful that he does not rush you into war.” Venus shrugged her shoulders, setting the cut root into a clay bowl to be baked and preserved later.

The reason for Mo’at’s frustrations and Venus’s disappointment was the hunting party Jake had organized to scout out the RDA’s new base. The patrols had been gradually delving deeper into the forest and therefore the Omatikaya territory, and her father was keen to observe just how large a force they would be up against.

It had been three months since they vacated into what they called High Camp, an internal cliff dwelling of the Hallelujah Mountains. Venus had been the least externally reluctant of her siblings, but she was second only to Kiri in her longing for the trees and grass. Now, children had to be either brilliant at climbing or be escorted on ikran-back to get to the ground. Tuktirey rarely got to go, and the four eldest Sully’s had to sneak around in order to escape their sky-bound home.

While their parents expected the most submission from Neteyam and Venus, it was the two eldest that were often flying long past eclipse on late night retreats. Since the return of their old enemy, the olo’ekte and tsakarem had felt the pressure build, and finding small pools of glowing water or fruit trees no one else knew of was a welcome distraction. It was the closest she and her brother had ever been, though Venus hated that it was brought on by the drums of war.

It was why she was so confused now. Her father had raised her and Neteyam for conflict, so when he had outright refused to let them come on their little scouting party the two had argued. Neteyam was no where to be seen (though she guessed he was off keeping Lo’ak in check), and Venus was relegated to the Tsahík’s hut to be kept under the watchful eye of her grandmother.

The list of men and women had been short: Jake and Neytiri, of course, and a few more warriors. Cantù was among them, and that alone had Lilliana worried sick to her stomach, her hand rubbing against her swollen belly. She wasn’t gigantic; Venus had seen heavier-carrying mothers before Lilly. But she still worried at the swells of anxiety that often plagued the soon-to-be mother.

It didn’t help that Lilly was experiencing cramps across her belly.

“Come child, take my place.” Mo’at said calmly, gesturing for Venus to continue her rubbing Lilly’s ankles. Venus did so without protest- she never protested when it came to helping Lilliana- and looked to her grandmother curiously as she rose. Mo’at smiled, rinsing her hands of the oil and sweeping a shawl around her shoulders. “There is a boy whose leg isn’t healing right after a fall. I am going to see him. Expect me back in an hour.”

Venus nodded, and Mo’at strode out of the hut. Kiri herself vanished with a kiss to Venus’s cheek and a warm smile to Lilliana, claiming she needed more thread for her new necklace for Lilly’s baby.

Silence filled the hut for a few moments, and Venus could feel Lilliana watching her, occasionally wincing from cramps.

“This could be you some day.” the woman said, and Venus looked up at her bright yellow eyes, the full face. Pregnancy favored Lilly, though some worry lines plagued the space above her eyebrows.

“With swollen belly and aching ankles? I think not.” Venus laughed softly, switching from oil to a lotion made from the whipped butter of rumaut fruit, messaging the tendons in Lilly’s calves. “No man wants a child out of me.”

“Ku’altu did.” Lilly reminded her, and then Venus really did laugh. It was a dark thing, one laced with bitterness. “Ku’altu thought me a fleeting fancy; I was pretty and innocent and a good dancer. I would have gone with him to become his Tsahík and been abandoned quickly.”

Lilliana caught her hand, wincing at the stretch across her belly but not letting go. “Not all is lost just because no man presents himself. Look at me: thirty one with my first child, on a planet that I wasn’t born to, with a man who isn’t even of my original species.” she said, releasing Venus’s hand when the younger woman simply stared blankly at her. “All I wish for is to be here if you do have them, if just to see you suffer as I am now.”

Venus softened at that, reaching forward to again enter twine her fingers with Lilliana’s.

“I’m glad you’re here with me. I don’t think I could have stood the fear if you weren’t.” she whispered after a moment, and Venus’s hands halted. She had tried desperately not to think of the danger that followed the scouting party, of the threat of war. But now, with Lilliana’s mate and her own parents gone, Venus felt the thrum of fear under her skin.

“I’m glad I’m here too.” she admitted, and Lilly smiled.

When Venus thought back to this time, it would be with crippling devastation. There was no way she could have predicted the slaughter that was to come with her brother’s approaching footsteps. How could she have?

Neteyam burst into the hut, breathing hard and with shaking hands. Lo’ak followed not five seconds after, looking confused at his brother’s agitation.

Venus stood, walking over to place her hands on Neteyam’s shaking shoulders to steady him. When the boy glanced past her and saw Lilliana, who herself now stood and regarded the abrupt entrance with concern, his face dropped further.

“What have you seen?” Venus asked, and Neteyam broke. His eyes met his sister’s, and Venus braced for the worst.

“The scouting party was ambused by a group of RDA ships. I was too far off to do anything or even see them coming. They came out of nowhere, Venus. They were fucking expecting us.” he said quickly, his voice carrying an unusual stammer. She flinched at the curse: Neteyam wasn’t one to cuss unless the situation was dire.

“Are they safe? Did everyone get out okay?” she asked, already preparing a plan in her head.

Neteyam’s eyes drifted from hers to Lilliana’s, and she felt her stomach drop.

“It happened so fast. It was so quiet, and then there was gunfire and screaming and… and they were chasing mom and dad and… then Cantù flew in front of them to get the gunship away…” Neteyam trailed off.

“Lilliana… I am so sorry.” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

Venus heard the sound of Lilly dropping to her knees just before her wail of grief pierced her ears. Lo’ak rushed to the woman’s side, and Venus was frozen for an instant before she grabbed Neteyam’s upper arms. “Get Tarsem. Now.”

Her brother bolted out the door.

“Venus?” Lo’ak called softly, his voice wavering. She turned around to find Lilliana eerily silent, staring between her thighs. Lo’ak held one hand out and away from him. She took a step closer to see some kind of wetness dripping from his fingers, and a puddle below where Lilliana had knelt. The knife that had buried itself within her gut at the news of Cantù’s death twisted.

It was too early- one month too early- but Lilliana’s water had broken.

Mo’at was across the camp in Eywa know’s which tent. There were plans for this, they had figured this all out. All she needed was to get Norm and Max-

Her stomach plummeted when she remembered that Norm had gone with the scouting party, and Max was somewhere deep in the Pandoran jungle finding plants to study.

She was on her own.

Lilliana was going into labor, her mate dead and her baby a month too early, and Venus was on her fucking own.

A warm hand settled against the small of her back, and she whipped around to find Tarsem’s concerned eyes staring into hers.

“Tell me what to do.” he whispered, registering Lilly’s state with a quick glance over Venus’s shoulder. For a moment, she allowed herself to rest her head against his arm as she thought, fighting down the bile that rose in her throat and threatened to spill out.

His hand cradled the back of her skull as he watched Lo’ak guide Lilly onto a mat, finding a cloth to help clean the mess and already pulling out the necessary materials for birth.

“I need you to take a party to reinforce my father’s. Take any guns you can find along with your bombs. And stay low. I must stay here.” she whispered, and Tarsem caught her hands in his.

“You’re trained for this. You’ve been training for this for years. Do not falter.” he said quickly before he exited the tent to do as she said.

“And you.” she turned to Neteyam, pointing at him. His ears dropped, looking at her with wide wet eyes. “You will not leave this camp, or so help me, I will throw you from the cliff. Am I understood?” she growled.

Neteyam nodded, bowing his head.

Venus hated this part of herself. The part that reacted so sternly at conflict, that snapped at innocents. But she couldn’t afford to have Neteyam flying into battle. She couldn’t add his body to the amount she’d have to clean and prepare for a funeral.

“Help me.” she whispered, and Neteyam sprung into action.

Together, the two boys manuevered Lilly into a comfortable position, Lo’ak cradling her head as she sobbed, and Nateyam working with Venus to quickly prepare chewing mush for pain and numbing cream for her stomach. Neither of them were trained as Venus was, but with a grandmother like Mo’at and sisters like Kiri and Venus, they’d have to be deaf to know nothing.

The labor progressed quicker than Venus would have liked, though she prayed to the Great Mother for swiftness if she would grant it. Lo’ak had taken down Lilly’s hair and worked to soothe the woman as Venus took her place between her legs, finding the baby’s head and trying to judge their size.

Even in Venus’s limited experience, she knew the baby was far too small.

Neteyam was at her shoulder, laying his head briefly against her skin for comfort before he said “I’m going to find grandmother.” and pulling away.

After what felt like years, the quick footsteps of the Tsahik were heard, and Venus’s shoulders sagged with relief.

That relief died as soon as Mo’at looked at Lilly’s belly, felt her child’s head. The older woman clucked her tongue and stroked the spasming baby bump, making eye contact with the teary-eyed Lilliana.

“You must begin pushing. Now.” she said, and Venus grabbed Lilly’s hand.

Lo’ak laid the side of his head against Lilliana’s, and Neteyam placed his hand on her shoulder. Venus started to cry. The first push went over well enough. Lilly cried out but otherwise bore the pain.

But when Lilly began to push again, her head fell back and her eyes rolled white, her body going limp.

This was the danger they had all planned for.

Avatar bodies had a neural self defense system built in to prevent nerve frying: if an avatar felt too much pain, the body would effectively eject the mind back to the human body to prevent mental damage.

And birth was registered as an act far too painful for the avatar body to go through.

Lilliana’s body was effectively empty.

Mo’at started praying.

But the woman’s body lurched as the soul drive kicked back in, rushing to push even as the pain became near unbearable. This time, Lilly lasted a few more pushes before her soul ejected once more.

After one hour, Mo’at quietly told Venus that the baby wasn’t emerging.

Venus wanted to vomit.

They didn’t have the right supplies to perform and effective caesarean section that would let both the baby and Lilliana’s avatar body live. Without Max and Norm, she had no conceivable idea about the levels to which they’d need to go to preserve the body. Grace had been a careful but successful procedure, but her body had also been a shell.

Mo’at dismissed Lo’ak and Neteyam to find their parents and tell them what was going on, and Venus moved to sit at Lilliana’s head.

“They’re gonna cut me open.” Lilly whispered, and Venus nodded, stroking her cheek. “We don’t have to, tsmuke. We can keep trying. There must be a way, and Norm and Max might be here soon.” whispered Venus, trying to speak past the knot in her throat.

But Lilliana shook her head, resting her hand over her belly. A few tears streamed down her face, and Venus’s heart swelled with sorrow. Without her avatar body, Lilliana would have to watch her child grow behind a glass shield, watch as they grew twice her size.

“You’ve worked so hard, Lilly. Please-“ she tried, but a raised hand halted her words.

“This child will be born, Venus. I do not care how. I do not care in which body I will dwell. But he will be born.” she said, fire and determination in her eyes, pain swimming just below.

Venus held her hand and laid against her chest as Mo’at ran a finger dusted with coal along Lilly’s belly to mark incisions. Lilliana watched her, her eyes filled with tears as she felt the edge of the knife.

“I love you, Venus.” she whispered, and Venus fought down the sob that rose in her chest.

She looked over her shoulder at Mo’at, who nodded.

Lilliana grimaced, and then her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Venus could feel warmth on her skin, the wetness of it sickening. She would always remember this moment everytime she gutted a yerik; the sound of slicing skin into its organs.

Lilliana only managed one ear splitting scream of terror and pain before her body went completely limp.

Venus should never had turned around. She should never had watched as her grandmother performed this bloody procedure. But her training overrode her sense, and it made her unwell to see Lilliana’s rolled-back eyes and open mouth.

The sight that greeted her when she turned was far worse.

Mo’at’s hands were inside Lilliana’s stomach, riffling through intestines and blood, pulling out and setting aside organs to find the soft layer of womb where the baby resided. Her face was concentrated, her mouth set into a thin line.

It was the smell most of all that caused her to turn her head and empty her stomach: iron and warmth, skin and blood. Acid and bile burned her throat as she tried to recover herself, tried to tell herself that this body was only a shell now.

Venus looked up in time to watch as Mo’at’s bloody hands rose from the red, holding a tiny bloody bundle of blue skin. Venus waited for sound as her grandmother checked it’s mouth and lungs, waited for the bleat or cry that always accompanied a newborn’s emergence.

Only silence greeted her.

But Mo’at showed no signs that the baby was dead, merely took it over to a wash bowl and cleaned at its skin. “A boy.” she stated with little enthusiasm. Mo’at did not say he was healthy. Venus was frozen on her hands and knees, watching as her grandmother covered Lilliana’s dead avatar in a thick knit blanket. Red soaked it where it touched her stomach.

Venus turned away only to see her father and Norm at the entrance to the hut. Jake looked exhausted, and Norm looked devastated.

“Lilliana.” Venus whispered, looking to Norm as she managed to stand. “She was ejected and she wanted to get the baby out. The baby is…fine. Just quiet.” She could feel her sense of self coming back to her, could feel security re-emerging as she remembered that Lilliana was only at the edge of the village in one of the science buildings, probably drinking water and waiting for news.

“Is she well? I haven’t been to the avatar stations yet, so I don’t know-“ she was cut off by her father folding her into his arms and pressing her against him.

Confusion turned to terror as Norm touched her arm.

“Lilliana isn’t in her body, kid. She’s empty.” the man whispered, and Jake’s hold tightened. It was only because he was holding her that she didn’t fall to the floor. “Her soul… got stuck somewhere in the in-between of the two bodies.”

“I don’t understand.” she whispered, her eyes stinging.

A hand touched her back. Venus looked to find her mother, her ionar still atop her brow, looking at her with sadness. “She’s gone, payfya. I’m sorry.” Neytiri whispered.

Venus didn’t make a sound. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t cry. She stood in her fathers arms and turned to stone. She was not in her body. She was praying, or maybe she was pleading.

She turned in her father’s arms to look at Mo’at.

“Give me the baby.” she whispered, and Neytiri grabbed her hands.

“The child will not survive the day: he is weak and frail and does not make a sound. I will not allow you to grow attached to him.” Mo’at stated, voice firm. Her mother tried to soothe Venus by rubbing at her skin, but she was far too gone to notice the tender touch.

“I have lost Lilliana. Cantù is gone. I watched her die. Let. Me. Hold. Him.” she breathed, her voice carrying the same amount of stern declaration as her grandmother’s. She didn’t care what happened when morning came. Venus could give a damn about getting attached. Her friend was dead, and only Eywa knew how long it would be until her son joined her.

Mo’at looked between her and the baby, and she knew that the cogs were turning. The mental battle between a woman who has lost everything and a mother, of someone who had held her babies and watched one die a young death.

She allowed Venus to hold Lilliana’s child.

He was so terribly small, so tiny that he felt weightless. He bore his fathers four fingered hand, but his mother’s eyebrows. His tanhì glowed faintly, and his eyes scrunched at the movement of Mo’at to Venus.

“Kaltxì, hì’aw.” she whispered, and the baby lifted his face to her breath, trying to find her. Venus lowered her face to his so their noses brushed, and he let out the smallest mewl, just barely audible. She felt her heart break for him, felt a wave of something she had never known.

Her mother pleaded with her to let him go, but Venus refused.

“He’s mine.” she had stated to the room of onlookers. “I will take care of him.”

Her parents shook their heads, and Mo’at regarded her with stony certainty. “Stubborn girl,” the woman stated, “you will break your own heart with all the love you pour into the hopeless.”

Venus had given her a teary smile in response. “My heart is already broken, grandmother. And even the doomed need hope.”

It was all for nothing, of course. The fact of the matter was that the baby did not eat nor drank. He barely made a sound and barely moved. He was tiny, and he shivered terribly. Premature, Norm had murmured at observing him over Venus’s shoulder. There was nothing they could do.

But she tried, oh, how she tried. Venus finger fed him water into his tiny little mouth, massaging his throat with her fingertips to get him to swallow. The whole of the night she sat with him pressed to her chest, feeling his tiny heart beat flutter like bird wings against her own strong thrum.

She named him Tìfnu, Quiet, for his lack of sound. Ever so often he’d sigh and she’d hold her breath, waiting for the pitter-patter heart to stop. And then she’d relax when he continued breathing.

Sometime in the midst of night Neteyam came, escorted by Tarsem, to bring her some roasted talioang from a hunt. Venus wouldn’t be separated from the child, and so Tarsem handed her pieces of the meat to eat whilst they spoke. Neteyam laid his head against her shoulder to watch Tìfnu, playing with his tiny hands with his pinkie, and Tarsem sat across from her.

“It was terrible. They filled him with bullets, txur’aw.” Tarsem whispered, recounting the sight he and the rescue group had beheld when they found Cantù’s body. “Unprovoked and all. And they slaughtered him.” he hissed, and Venus caught his raised hand with hers to calm him. Neteyam looked wide eyed at the man, and Tarsem dipped his head in apology.

Neteyam let out a yawn, and Venus pulled him close to her side before whispering a soft goodnight. The boy cast a sidelong look at Tarsem before exiting the tent and retreating to bed.

Tarsem watched him go, his ear twitching as he mulled over his thoughts. Venus in turn watched Tarsem whilst her finger drew small circles into Tìfnu’s soft hair.

“He knows.” a statement, not a question, but Venus nodded in confirmation. Tarsem carefully scooted forward to peer at Tìfnu before opening his arms. Venus looked at him suspiciously. “You need to drink and at least stretch. I won’t hurt him.” he said softly, and Venus reluctantly placed the boy in his arms.

“Neteyam’s young. Don’t worry about his regard of you. He still quite likes you, even if he suspects that father might replace you with him.” Venus said as she stretched and walked over to a pile of clothes and water flask Neteyam had brought. She checked over her shoulder to make sure Tarsem was faced away before she changed clothes.

“I think he’s more worried about my intentions with you than with his position.”

That made Venus pause, the flask raised halfway to her mouth to drink. She took a sip, then a gulp, before standing behind Tarsem.

It had started as a joke made by Jake, but the joke had quickly progressed into a possible match when it reached the ears of Mo’at.

Venus and Tarsem could be mated, and together they would lead the Omatikaya as Tsahìk and Olo’eyktan.

Venus had answered with a flat “no”, but word had apparently spread. And her brother, the olo’ekte, was now having to worry about competition from a twenty-four year old warrior. Along with that, her mother and father had always known that who Venus would mate with would lead to at minimum a disruption to the succession of leadership. Neteyam was young, and now with war on the horizon, many worried if the fourteen year old could step into his fathers place were the mighty Toruk Makto to die.

Venus didn’t like thinking about it much, and much less liked thinking about it when her friend was being prepared for a funeral in a separate tent.

“Neteyam is protective, but he has nothing to worry about.” Venus said as Tarsem handed Tìfnu back to her, and he watched her for a few moments silently. He had known her for years now, and she could almost never keep a secret from him.

“He’s going to die, Venus.” he stated plainly, and Venus’s chest tightened. “I know.” she whispered, tracing the line of Tìfnu’s spine as she tucked him against her. The conversation about the ambush and nagging grandmother’s had distracted her from the ache in her lungs and the way her eyes still stung from crying. She knew she must look a mess. An hour ago she had stopped crying only because she didn’t have anymore tears to shed. From dehydration or exhaustion or both, she did not know.

“You’re going to hurt yourself the more you hold on-“ Tarsem tried, but Venus didn’t let him finish.

“Do not presume to tell me how to grieve or what to do, Tarsem.” she snapped, barring her teeth at the man before her.

He didn’t even flinch, but regarded her with sad eyes. She was getting damn tired of everyone looking at her like she was pitiful.

Why couldn’t they understand that she was trying?

“I’m sorry for any offense I may have caused you.” he said softly as he stood. Carefully, he moved a strand of her hair away from her face so he could look her fully in the eyes.

“You will burn yourself to nothing if you do this for every innocent that dies, Venus. And believe me, these deaths will not be the last.”

And then he was gone, leaving her to the cold, empty Tsahík hut.

Silence was a reminder of the temporary warmth that sat against her chest, that the breath of against her skin would not be there forever. If Venus tried, she could still smell the blood in the air.

She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream. Something in her was dying, something that shouldn’t be. “Strong girl” Tarsem had called her, but she felt like leaves battered in a storm, their stems breaking from the wind and withering from endless rain. She felt like she couldn’t stand, like there was no one that could help her rise.

So Venus cherished the time she had with Tìfnu, the last remenant of her friend and her mate, the last part of herself that she could hold and love. Tìfnu mewled against her cheek, and then Venus really did weep. His hands gripped her top, and he nuzzled into her hair.

Hours and hours of quiet mourning and waiting awaited her. She curled her knees closer and tucked Tìfnu into the crook between her shoulder and jaw.

༄

It’s just as the sun peaks into high camp that the child’s last breath leaves him.

Venus was numb to it. She found the cloth that’s always kept in the corner of her grandmother’s hut for the still-borns and wrapped Tìfnu in it, whispering a silent prayer and kissing his covered head. Then, she found the coal and white powder stowed away, mixing it with water and painting the two black stripes over her eyes, then one down the center of her face. Her step is steady as she pulls the beaded curtain of the hut aside and sets out to find her father.

He was exactly as she knew he’d be: elbows on his knees and head in his hands as he sat by the glowing coals of a long-dead fire. His head rose at her approach, and he gave no reaction of surprise to her show of mourning.

“Which one was it.” is all she said, her voice gravelly from the hours of silence.

“No.” is his firm answer.

While he expected rage, he got only cool acceptance. “I will fly to the base and destroy every single Scorpion I can before they shoot me. With or without your leave. I am sure there are plenty of other warriors who would be willing to give me specifics, as well.”

Jake’s hand finds hers, and for an instant the wave of sorrow that has been gathering at the back of her mind pulls at her. Venus has to blink away the tears as they gather at her lash line, unwilling to show him any weakness.

“It will not satisfy you, and it will not bring them back.” Jake assures her, his other hand joining the tight grip around her own. “And Eywa, Venus, I can’t lose you.” He lifts the back of it to his forehead, and something inside Venus crumbles at the sight of him begging. Her mighty father, bowing his head before her in an attempt to make her stay.

But iron hardens in her gut. “Eywa demands balance, and so I will enforce it. No man who kills innocents deserves to live.” she whispers, her palm resting against his cheek in an assuring gesture. “And I will not stop until the one who killed Cantù is dead.”

Venus is her mother’s daughter, forever and always.

Blood for blood. A life for a life.

Jake sees the truth of her declaration in her eyes and squeezes her wrist, taking one last look at his eldest.

“Red stripes down the sides with a yellow underbelly.” he says, releasing her.

Venus walked away from him silently, leaving him to his thoughts and his worry.

Rutxïryo was already waiting for her, silent and brooding as he watched her approach. The ikran had never been to war, but he knew his rider’s intentions even before they made tsaheylu. A high wail breaks Venus’s attention from adjusting her bow.

Lilliana’s ikran, Txampay, watches her, and Venus nearly doubled over at the sharp pain to her chest at the empty saddle across the female’s back.

The ikran bowed her head to her, and Venus dismounted Rutx.

Txampay was always a spitfire. She was older, and being tamed later had set many of her mannerisms in stone. But she’s completely still when Venus touches her head, her cheek, and her neck, until the saddle across her back is undone. The woven leather falls with a thunk to the mountain floor, and Txampay crows softly to her. When Venus turns and meets her eyes, she sees vengeance.

Ikran only fly with one rider, and they’re prone to revenge if that rider is harmed.

Txampay takes off with Rutxïryo and Venus as they head for the patrol lines of the RDA.

A distant chirp sounds across the sky just before High Camp is out of sight, but Venus doesn’t look back. She has already explained herself to one parent, and she knows she will not be able to escape Neytiri were she to object to this mission.

The sun is in her eyes, and she finds something like solace that they are stinging from something other than tears.

༄

The humans are careless as babies, Venus thought, rejoicing in their small victory. Their ships are loud, and they fly low along the trees; they believe they are invincible, with their guns and metal beasts.

She knew better- as soon as the RDA returned, she and Neteyam took to studying old logs of patrol patterns and fighting strategies. It was only a matter of time until there was a call to action.

Now, she and Rutx clung to a cliff, watching patiently for the ship Jake had described. Txampay had not been with them for about an hour now. The sun had risen slightly, and the world was bathed in orange and red as rider and mount prepared for death. Rutxïryo’s orange dots leant to camouflage best at this time, and Venus pressed herself to his back as they both watched the goings-on below.

It was near impossible to distinguish the Scorpions, but she waited for the comm at her throat to pick up the signal.

Static.

More static.

“Razor to Swordfish, do you read?” came crackling english over the the speaker. Venus closed her eyes.

“Swordfish to Razor, we copy. Changing patrol teams. Good luck out there.”

The scorpions parted ways, one heading back towards the newly established RDA base, and her target moving into position.

A streak of screaming blue and purple darted across her vision, and Txampay landed on the retreating one, pulling out one of its gunman and eating him headfirst before twisting the whole gunship upside down.

Venus and Rutxïryo dropped from the cliff side, rounding the Swordfish quickly to put and arrow through the pilot’s chest.

Before she could get there, Venus heard a flurry of gunfire, and Txampay screamed. The ikran’s chest exploded from the rain of bullets, blood coating her vibrant skin and the side of the ship. Venus cried out, docking an arrow. But Txampay just roared and clung to the scorpion’s railings, hurling it and herself into a cliff. The explosion was enough to temporarily knock Venus and Rutxïryo off balance in the air.

An ikran only bonds with one rider, and if that rider died, then the mount would live in solitude for the rest of its life.

Somewhere between the sound of crashing metal and roaring flame, Venus thought she heard a shrill cry of victory before the burning hunk of metal fell into the trees below.

Venus turned towards the Razor, watching it shake as the pilot panicked. Over the tapped comms, she could hear him frantically screaming for backup.

Rutxïryo twisted down and away from the burst of gunfire that came from the gunman, darting into hidden caverns in the floating mountains around them.

“Approach your prey downwind. Then it will never know you’re there.” her mother had whispered as she guided her bow. “Be patient, and wait for your opening.”

She guided her ikran below the yellow underbelly of the scorpion, twisting so that she faced the cockpit. The pilot looked at her through the glass front, his mouth open as she aimed her arrow at his chest.

“And…release.” said her mother against the shell of her ear.

The glass shattered, and the ship tipped forward.

The gunman was next, and she dove down and around the ship to grab at him with Rutxiryo’s talons. But he ejected, the white of his parachute an unnatural spot against the orange sky.

Her ikran roared and grabbed the man by the strings of it, throwing him into the trees where the ship had crashed. Venus bared her teeth, blood roaring in her ears as she heard the man’s scream, hand on his comm in hope that someone would come in time.

You were dead the moment you ambushed them.

The heat of the burning scorpion made the skin of her back tingle as she landed. In the depths of the flames, she could see the body of the pilot, impaled with her arrow, and the other gunman burning.

She knew that many humans prayed to a God that promised penance in a burning underworld, and Venus hoped that the fire that they perished in was only the beginning of their suffering.

Something in her peripheral vision moves, and Rutxïryo squeals and flings her to the side just as the sound of gunfire bursts across the clearing. A bullet scratched her arm, and Rutxïryo let out a shrill scream when one pierced his wing membrane. Venus unsheathed her knife and flung it across the clearing.

The parachuted gunman cried out when his shoulder was sliced through, dropping the small handgun to the ground. She stepped towards him, watching how his heels pushed at the dirt in an effort to get away from her. Her foot came down on his chest, and he wheezed as it pressed against his likely-broken ribs.

“Please.” the man hissed, wincing at the pressure. But his begging feel on deaf ears.

Venus peeled her lips back in a snarl as she knelt, hovering over him as she let him hear her rage. Quick as lightening, she pulled her knife from his shoulder and raised it above her head. The man opened his mouth in protest, but she was blind now. Nothing could halt her resolve.

The blade sunk into his soft tummy easily, the flesh giving way to warm innards as his mouth widened in a silent scream. She leant closer to his face to look him in the eyes as she pulled the blade up, slicing him open from his navel to his ribcage. She felt the slick warmth of his blood around her fist, and she was reminded of the cold feeling of Lilianna’s body as they sliced her open.

“May you rot.” she hissed in her mother tongue as she made the final cut from his sternum to his throat, and his flailing ceased.

She dropped back on her heels and tipped her head to the sky in a scream of victory and grief, calling the hungry to feast on her kill. She took one last look at the corpse before she mounted Rutxïryo and flew home.

༄

Daylight pierced the edges of High Camp, but most of the clan was still asleep. It was early morning now, and Venus held her still bloody hands close to her stomach as she approached her family’s tent.

It was empty, and Venus thanked the Great Mother for it as she sank onto her mat, kneeling down so that her forehead pressed to the soft material. She kept her hands away from it, refusing to stain the woven fibers with demon blood.

She was silent for a few moments before the weight of it all crashed down on her, and something between a sob and a dry heave clawed its way up her throat.

Venus cried into the ground, her shoulders shaking as she wept for the dead, for the martyred. She ground her teeth together as the blood caked and dried, staining her skin.

She recognized his footsteps instantly, turning her head to meet his eyes, her cheek rested against the mat.

Her father looked down at her, silhouetted by the new dawn, his face indeterminate as her eyes adjusted. She knew what he must see, knew what she appeared to be.

Vengeful, hateful, wretched, monstrous.

Gone was his precious baby girl who he could cradle and shield. The one who he would protect with his life. The one who beckoned him with clenching fingers and raised arms.

That girl died the moment Lilianna did, the instant the Sky People returned, the second he came home with a grim expression and war in his eyes.

Venus leant back and raised her bloody hands to him, and the smell of iron wafted throughout the tent. Tears dropped off her chin as she stretched her arms, pleading. She honestly expected disgust. She didn’t know what she wanted from him now. He had been right: nothing could bring Lilliana, her mate, or her son back. Venus thought he would turn away from her and never look at her again.

She did not expect for him to drop to his knees before her and haul her into his arms as if she was still three.

“I have failed you.” he whispered against her hair, ignoring how her bloody hands pressed to his skin. “And I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

She screamed into his chest then, beating her fists against him as everything caved in. And he let her, all the while consoling her with quiet words and apologies. He kissed her temple and held her close, and for once in many years Venus felt small against her father.

Neytiri found them like that, her sobbing dryly against his chest and him weathering her storm. Her mother brought a cloth to clean her hands with and began to take down her hair, and they stayed leaning against one another for some time.

Mother and daughter and father, united by the pain of sacrifice.

Before they laid Lilly and her family to rest amongst the roots of the Tree of Souls, Venus cut a few strands of Cantù’s, Lilliana’s, and Tìfnu’s hair. With the help of her grandmother, she braided the strands into a woven ball and encased it in tree sap, hardening it into a bead. Kiri added the tiny necklace she had made for the baby to it, and together they added it to her songcord.

The beads twinkled in her ear as she held the atokirina in her hands, watching its movements before allowing it to drift down to the three bodies, curled around each other as if in deep sleep.

While the clan sang for them, Venus turned to the rising sun and stared into it, letting it blind her.

Two month’s later, Venus turned eighteen.

༄

Case 4:56-mr-09675-BER Document-Angel of Death Entered on May XX, 2169 Page 1 of 1

CLASSIFIED BY THE RESOURCES DEVELOPMENT ADMINISTRATION.

On today, May the XX of 2169, a mayday call and request was received from Scorpion ‘Razor’ at 05:45 am, only about half a minute after the pilot of the craft had signaled Scorpion Swordfish to change watch shifts. According to the brief and choppy signal, the two crafts were attacked by a lone Na’vi and two banshees. The Swordfish, after being retained and studied by forensics and mechanics, had deep grooves from a large aerial animal, most likely the lone pale blue banshee. One of the gunman were not found at the sight of crash, and the forensics team has deemed that the soldier was most likely thrown by the animal from the sky. The two bodies that were present at the scene had been mauled by a pack of viperwolves, and their remains will be cremated.

The Razor has visual evidence of the assault, with a vivid picture of the lone na’vi being recovered from the front camera of the cockpit.

(📎) image description - The banshee itself is vertical and perpendicular to the Scorpion, with its back turned to the cockpit and its wings spread wide. It’s a vivid blue, with orange stripes running alone its back. The na’vi sits at its shoulders, leaning back to aim an arrow directly into the cockpit. Her eyes are marred with black lines of dirt or coal-dust, and her attire is simplistic. Due to the paint, it cannot be discerned wether she has eyebrows or not. She is lighter in skin tone, but clearly Omatikaya.

Dr. Robert Alza, Xenobiologist and future Recombinant Primary Medical Technician, estimates the girl to be in her late teens and approaching adulthood. (Added by Robert Alza- She wears many arm bands, and the length and detail on her bow leads I and my team to believe she has been a warrior of the clan for some time now. The size of her ikran is also indicative: no doubt the two have been paired for a few years for him to be so large.) She has been marked as a threat in the system, and all patrol personal have been warned against flying too far into Hostile Territory.

This attack occurred after an attack not twenty-four hours before. A group of Na’vi banshee riders were discovered and chased, and Jake Sully was identified. One na’vi male was taken down, and many have pointed to the actions of this girl to be retribution.

To add to this conclusion, the men of the Razor were found to be burnt to a crisp inside of their Scorpion. The pilot was discovered to be impaled through the chest by an arrow once the craft had been throughly extinguished, and the body of one gunman was found in the backseat.

The other gunman was discovered not one hundred feet away, he himself appearing mauled just as the soldiers of the Swordfish. When studying his body, however, forensics discovered a stab wound from his lower abdomen up to his jaw, too sharp to have been done by a native species.

The girl has been called The Angel of Death by many, and a group of soldiers formed quickly to mutiny and kill her. They were disciplined and are now out of commission.

The girls identity has not yet been found, and the RDA CEO’s have decided not to press the issue until there is any more disruptions.

༄

It felt like something was pressed against Lyle’s ears as he stared at the image, studying the glaring eyes and the sure aim. If he had never seen Venus before, he wouldn’t have recognized her.

But he did recognize her, just as he recognized the look in her eyes as she started into the cockpit.

It was the same way she had looked at Quaritch when she had first dropped from the trees, aiming an arrow at his head in the same instant the Colonel had aimed a gun at her brother’s.

Cool acceptance. A promise of death.

Before he could even think to go back, Lyle watched as the document and its link disappeared. With nothing else to do, and frankly and eagerness to dispel the image from his mind, he clicked on the second link.

༄

Ku’altu was going to strangle Lui’to.

“Just because father said that I couldn’t get close doesn’t mean I can’t come, ‘altu!” his thirteen year old brother called over his shoulder as he flew ahead of the hunting party. Around him, Ku’altu’s friends chuckled, though a glare from him silenced it.

“The jungle is no place for the young, Lui. Go home!” he yelled, but Lui’to simply turned his face to the sky and laughed.

In truth, the idea that the jungle was dangerous was laughable to a Tawkamian child. They knew the flora and fauna like they knew their songcords: from birth and with perfection. Growing up in a clan that valued appreciation of the wildlife as much as the Tawkami did leant their fear of it to be, well, considerably less than many of the other clans.

But it wasn’t the natural beings of Pandora that Ku’altu worried about.

“The skypeople wont stop at the Omatikaya, Father.” Ku’altu tried, sitting cross legged in a clan meeting. His father, Ank’tanu, had already shot him down before, exasperated at his son’s repeated attempts to get the Tawkami involved in the oncoming war. “We must prepare for conflict when it arises. And it will arise.”

“Do not tell me how to lead my people, boy.” the Olo’eyktan yelled over the clammer of advising voices. “You know nothing of war. We don’t have the provisions to defend ourselves, let alone another clan! To rush into war is to call the nantang to our doorstep before we can even speak.”

Ku’altu rose to his feet in agitation, trying and failing to get someone to take him seriously. But before he could even open his mouth, his father hissed.

“You wouldn’t be this invested in a war concerning the Omatikaya if you hadn’t tried to court the half-breed daughter of Toruk Makto.” Ank’tanu said lowly.

Ku’altu had stormed out to avoid getting into a fight with his own father.

He hated to admit it, but Ku’altu knew his father was mostly right. Yes, his father was selfish for wanting to stay out of war even if it meant another would endure hardship. But was he not also selfish for caring for a clan simply because of its Tsakarem?

It haunted him at night, wondering if he’d want to defend a clan so ardently if Venus wasn’t in it.

It had been nearly two years since that night in the pool, but he could still envision it clear as day. Sitting atop his ikran, the sunrise lighting his body, he could still feel the cool water lapping at his thighs, the hands resting against his shoulders, her mouth pressing to his. It was embarrassing, truly. But every time his parents brought up the idea of mates, all he could see was a dancing girl illuminated by firelight, reaching a hand to him and asking him to dance.

But these memories were now plagued by visions of war, of Venus riding her ikran into battle, of her getting wounded. It was haunting, and sometimes he woke up in a cold sweat with her name on his tongue and his heart running in his chest.

Ku’altu worried that the RDA would lose interest in the Omatikaya and come for his own clan, seeking trade. The Tawkami were not as war prepared as the Omatikaya, so the risk would be less.

It was this thought that guided his hesitance to allow Lui’to to fly with them. His brother was fresh out of his iknimaya ceremony, his mount a young male ikran with a tendency to snap at the others. If something were to go wrong, Ku’altu feared that his brother wouldn’t know what to do. Eywa, he didn’t know if he’d know what to do.

The prey was becoming scarce, more and more herds of large game migrating away from the Tawkami territory. It was alarming: Greenhome was a safe haven for many species. But recently, Ku’altu and his hunters had only observed four healthy herds of yerik grazing. His mother sought answers in Eywa, but the Great Mother had been largely silent to Suna.

Ku’altu’s ikran dove over a lake as he scouted out cleared trails of sturmbeast, the group of banshee’s calling to one another about scents picked up. Right as his ikran picked up the smell of prey, a large boom sounded off in the distance.

The group halted over the water, flying in place as the ground shook softly. Ripples spread across the lake’s surface, and Ku’altu squinted in the direction they started from.

“What the hell was that?” murmured Tu’la to his left.

Ku’altu was inclined to call the party back and away to camp, but a yellow spot zoomed past them and towards the explosion, Lui calling back to them to follow. Ku’altu had half the mind to just leave him to make his way back, but another large boom caused even more noise, and he chirped for the hunting party to follow in the chase.

Lui was far in front of them, fast with youth and innocence. He knew nothing of what could be ahead, and that excited him. But the older boys feared it, having heard stories of powerful explosions that would blow Na’vi to dust. Ku’altu could just barely make out his brother in the blinding sunrise, a small blue-green spot atop a yellow banshee.

They passed by downed trees, and the boys circled them to see that the roots were destroyed, completely blasted. Ku’altu spotted bits of twisted metal amongst the dirt, and he dove to see it closer.

He landed and picked up a piece, studying it carefully. His stomach dropped when he read the words in thick black type- the same black type he had seen on the fallen amp suits buried in Omatikayan greenery.

PROPERTY OF THE RDA.

A distant scream ripped through the air, accompanied by the sound of a machine gun unloading its bullets into the sky.

Ku’altu was on his ikran and flying faster than he ever had, desperately trying to get to where his brother had cried out from. His friends followed, except for one, Tai, who flew quickly back to Greenhome to get backup.

They landed in the trees quietly, trying to scout out what was going on before they attacked. Ku’altu had to restrain himself at the scene before his eyes.

Lui’to was trapped under his ikran, the banshee’s yellow skin colored orange with blood from the gunfire. He tried to get out from under the body to no avail. Four amp suits and multiple RDA foot soldiers aimed their guns at his brother, calling something to him. Neither he nor Lui knew english well enough to understand it, but the body language was clear.

Don’t fucking move.

Time stood still. Lui tried to wriggle out from his ikran’s corpse and away from the guns, his eyes wild as he called again for Ku’altu.

Please, Eywa, have mercy.

One of the soldiers stepped too close, and Lui hissed and pulled his knife from his side.

Lui’s chest lit up with at least fifteen red spots. The boy went still as one of them moved up to aim between his eyes. Someone cocked their gun.

Ku’altu’s ikran screamed as she slammed into one of the amp suits, sending it toppling back. Ku’altu, on foot, delivered the killing blow with his arrow.

The clearing exploded with sound and gunfire, and Ku’altu felt more than one bullet shoot past him as he ran towards Lui. He grabbed his brother by the underarms, hauling him out from under his ikran before ordering him to run to the trees. Lui’s eyes darted over his shoulder, and Ku’altu had no time to react before a hand seized his neural queue and tugged him off his feet.

He hissed, beating the metal arm of the AMP suit as he twisted in air. His spine was searing hot, and his vision went partially black at the pain of the tendon being pulled away from his skull. Lui was screaming, scrambling back, and he heard the crash of a body hitting the ground somewhere behind him.

Ku’altu was forcefully turned around to stare at the pilot of the suit, and the man grinned as he raised his oversized knife to Ku’altu’s throat.

He saw the reflection of his father’s ikran in the glass before the arrow even hit it.

The shield shattered, and some of the glass shards cut at Ku’altu’s chest as he dropped to the ground. He grabbed Lui by the arm, looking around for his ikran.

He saw her, her purple body collapsed on top of an AMP suit. It was only upon running to her then he realized that she was impaled through the gut by one of the knives, blood leaking from her open mouth.

Ku’altu tucked Lui into his side as he turned, watching as his friends and the adults come to relieve them fell to guns. His father roared in the air before his ikran landed behind his sons. The male banshee screamed as he covered Ku’altu and Lui, shielding them from the onslaught of bullets.

“Get to the trees!” his father yelled, and Ku’altu hauled Lui onto his back and ran for the foliage.

But as they crossed the clearing, their father not far behind, Ku’altu heard a distinct hiss that made his hair stand up.

“It’s gasoline.” said Venus softly, catching some of the dark liquid in a leaf. They were crouched at a fallen amp suit, half covered by the metal as she pointed to its metallic intestines.

She carefully took the leaf to a cleared spot of dirt, pouring a long trail of it before dumping it into a puddle at the end. Ku’altu watched her curiously, studying the way that she didn’t touch the foul-smelling water. Venus set the leaf inside of the AMP suit before returning to his side.

“You take some fire.” she whispered as she struck flint at the end of the long line, crouching down to be at level with the gasoline. “And you light it.”

The first explosion took them off their feet, both Ku’altu and Lui flying forward. Lui landed facing the clearing, Ku’altu facing the trees.

“And the fire travels from here, to there.” she whispered against his ear, placing an arm against his chest to prevent him from getting too close.

“What happens when it gets to the larger spot?” he asked, his heart speeding up under her touch.

He watched as the burning amp suit fell over into another, a louder hiss sounding in the air when they stumbled towards a group of plastic wrapped packages labeled, in english, EXPLOSIVES.

Venus leaned closer as she lit the gas. Her mouth brushed against his ear, and his arm wrapped around her waist to hold her against him.

“Boom.”

Ku’altu cried out for everyone to get down, lunging for Lui to turn him away. But he couldn’t reach, and suddenly everything was loud and white.

Vaguely, he registered that he was in the air before he came crashing down. Ku’altu’s skin felt cold, but after a few moments, the chill turned into blistering heat, and Ku’altu registered that his skin was burning. The material below him was hard and warm, the lines of it burrowing into his skin. He tried to open his eyes.

“Don’t.” came his fathers voice, gruff and strained as he pressed a hand over his son’s eyes. Ku’altu jumped at the proximity of the sound, but relaxed when he recognized his father.

It only took one try to discover that he couldn’t speak, either. He swallowed and waited for his throat to comply.

“Father.” he managed, his throat burning with the effort. Ank’tanu’s hand remained against his face, and Ku’altu tried to breathe past the smoke and the smell of smoldering flesh.

“I’m sorry.” his father whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Ku’altu tired to find his father’s other hand with his, but his fingers came away wet.

“Dad…” he rasped. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you in that meeting. Eywa knows I trust your judgement more than I let myself admit.”

“Father, speak plainly.”

“I wish I had been better. Tell your mother I’m sorry.”

Ank’tanu’s hand fell from his face, and Ku’altu opened his eyes.

At first, all he could see was red. He raised a shaking hand to wipe at his eyes, and blood smeared across his face. He blinked it a few times and looked forward.

His father, the greatest man he had ever known, the one who had taught him how to hunt and how to walk and how to speak, was in front of him, his right arm missing, and his body impaled upon a slice of metal from a ruined AMP suit.

Ku’altu opened his mouth to scream, and his vision went black.

༄

Case 4:56-mr-09675-BER Document-Tawkami Bombing Incident. Entered on May XX, 2169 Page 1 of 1

CLASSIFIED BY THE RESOURCES DEVELOPMENT ADMINISTRATION.

On today, May XX of 2169, there was a brief insurgency near the territory of the Tawkami clan. The initial call for backup was received at about 07:15 hours, but when reinforcements arrived, the conflict had already simmered.

Ten armed foot soldiers and four AMP suits had been sent out to begin clearing for another base, much like Bridgehead, to begin negotiations with neighboring tribes. To do so, they were issued explosives that would be placed along the roots of the surrounding trees to uproot them, efficiently clearing space. However, not a few rounds after they began, a na’vi atop a yellow banshee appeared above the group. They were fired upon and told to stand down.

When the na’vi did not do so, they were approached with assault rifles and amp suits. It escalated into a skirmish when a purple banshee emerged from the surrounding trees and attacked an AMP suit. Many more na’vi appeared, and some flew in. A significant amount of explosives were activated by a flaming AMP suit, and there was no movement in the clearing when new soldiers came to refresh the previous squad.

All fourteen issued RDA personal were KIA, and only three of the na’vi survived.

They were identified as a Tawkami warrior, a young son of the now-deceased Olo’eyktan, and the eldest son. They were taken to a nearby RDA facility to be treated and studied. After about twelve hours, a banshee and woman approached the base with no weapon. She was identified as the Tawkamian Tsahík, Suna, and the local RDA administrator and translator began negotiating.

For the safety of her people and her sons, the Tsahík agreed that the Tawkami would trade freely with the RDA, and the location of their sacred village Green Home was revealed. Her sons were healed to the best of the doctor’s abilities and given back to their people, along with the warrior. The young Olo’ekte would be placed as Olo’eyktan once he was healed enough.

The previous Olo’eyktan, Ank’tanu, died in the skirmish.

༄

“Lyle.” came a soft whisper, tearing his eyes away from the screen.

Venus watched him from a distance, carefully perched on one of the smaller limbs of the tree. She always made it look effortless, no matter how thin the branches got. Brown had nearly fell out of a tree when he tried to mirror her movements a week ago, and it was only Venus’s grip on his shirt that had kept him safe on his feet. It was ominous, how she looked at him. It made his skin crawl and his mind go static. Off putting, he’d describe it. Like Venus could see straight through his eyes and his skull and read his mind.

Maybe she could. Sometimes he wondered at just how much she understood, and just how much was guess work. It was an interesting survival strategy, making everyone believe you already expected every move they could ever make.

Venus knew everything about others, yet nothing about herself at the same time.

“Lyle.” she said again, and he refocused.

The only evidence of her crying was the puffiness of her eyes, accentuated by the glowing property of her irises. Otherwise, she looked like how steel felt; calm, collected, and composed. Venus looked like her mother. She had taken to braiding her hair tighter and back away from her face, the long braid trailing all the way to the small of her back, whipping like a tail when they flew. Gone were the curly strands that framed her cheeks and hid her eyes. There was coal around them now, some kind of show of mourning.

It reminded him of how she had looked in the photograph, aiming her arrow into the cockpit with certainty.

“Venus.” he replied, his voice at a whisper to not awake those around him.

Her eyes flickered across his face, and a flash of silver glimmered in her hand as she twisted her wrist. The darkness concealed what it was from him, and he peered at it curiously.

Venus tossed it in a smooth arc, and he caught it with one hand with ease.

He looked down to see a silver chain and two tiny dog tags in his palm. Well, not terribly tiny, rather relatively small. When he narrowed his eyes at the small punched-out script, he felt his chest tighten.

Cpl. Lyle Wainfleet. Type AB. SpecOps.

The metal was crinkled and weathered, with some parts smoothed from fidgeting. He ran his fingertips along the rounded edges of the tags, wondering at how they got so rubbed down.

The answer came to him quick.

They were his human dog tags- that much was clear by their size and state. But they were on his body when he had died. Venus, at some point, had found his fallen amp suit and taken them, keeping them all these years. Probably, the wear had come from her fidgeting.

“I used to wish that you were good.” she whispered, and he looked up again to find that she was closer now. “I used to watch the videos and hope that you would turn against them because you had me. That I would have made you realize how wrong it was.”

Venus gestured to the surrounding bodies, inhaling deep. “But I know now that there was never a thought in your mind to change. Because if there was, you would have taken this second chance and used it.”

She watched him for a moment. “If you want to cling to your past life so bad, then you can have those. Hold onto them just as your colonel does for all I care.”

With that, she vanished, leaving Lyle with a deadman’s necklace and a pit in his stomach.

Dread crawled up his spine as he glanced back down at the rapidly-disappearing email.

Warn her. Before it’s too late.

Lyle pressed the power button to the device, and leaned his head back against the tree to listen to the sound of the forest.

༄masterlist༄

tadah! heavy on the flashbacks this chapter, but i’m back!

taglist:

@xstarsdiary @xstarsmvxz @lisedanie @avatar4eva @henhouse-horrors @xylianasblog @knmendiola @isnt-itstrange @avatarrecom

---

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

---

⋆˙✧⋆｡ biting ft . miles quaritch — kinktober day 13

warnings . established relationship , recom ! miles , recom ! reader , sniffing , biting ofc , tail pulling pet names ( pumpkin + cupcake )

you knew your boyfriend liked things rough. both of you now brought back as recoms, you found your new favorite way to get him riled up. you knew his sense of smell was top notch, being able to smell your need for him before you entered the room.

‘’ colonel, can i see you for a moment. ” you peeked. your head in the room where his squad was, waving to the recoms as your eyes went back to your boyfriend. his eyes narrowed, his tail behind him swaying in uncoordinated intervals. he pushed himself off his favorite wall and walked over to you, chest puffing as he stands in front of you.

“ room. now. ” he snarled. you nodded once, walking in front of him. you smiled to yourself, tail swishing in front of him in excitement. when you reached his room, the door barely closed properly before you were pressed against the wall.

“ christ, y’reek pumpkin. ” he mumbled against your nape, his hand gripping the base of your queue. you whined, tail wrapping around your boyfriend’s arm. you didn’t fight the urge of your hips, they pushed against his, a silent plea of. what you really wanted.

in a flash, miles pulled you from the wall, turning you around, his grip on your braid never wavering as he pulled your face to his, lips only a hair away.

“ strip. ” you don’t think another moment as you obey his order, leaving yourself bare in front of him. he grins, fangs showing as he twirls his finger, a gesture for you to turn around. with your back to him, miles’s eyes waste no time dancing over your form. he grips the back of your neck, pushing you down onto the bed in front of you, hardness in his cargo pants pushing against your hips. you mewl, your head pulled back as your boyfriend takes a long draw of your scent, a clear indication of your arousal. before you can beg for him to touch you, to do anything, his lips find purchase on your neck, the sweet whine that left your lips crumbled his already low resolve in an instant. his lips parted and his fangs sank into the junction of your neck. a our moan ripped through you as you felt miles mark you. pleasure running through you, you didn’t feel his lips leave you nor his belt buckle releasing. a hand pressed between your shoulder blades brought you back to the present, the mushroom tip of his cock pressing at your folds.

“ gotta thing f’bites, don’cha, cupcake? ” you nodded mindlessly,

“ please miles..need you. ” you reached a hand back but he wrapped your wrist in his, pressing it against your lower back,

“ shhhh, i’ll give it to ya when m’ready. ” he leaned over your form, fangs drawing down your blue skin before sinking into your waist, where his hands would take refuge.

your body shook from the pleasure, back arching into the bed. you pressed your thighs together, desperate for release. his tongue lapped over the mark, before drawing up your spine. he pressed his forehead into your back, committing your scent to memory. you wiggled, mumbling incoherent words, begging for his cock.

“ al’right i hear ya. ” he lifted his head from your back, bringing his cock back to your puffy lips, pressing into you.

when miles gripped the base of your tail, that was the moment you knew you weren’t getting off so easy.

it’s safe to say that miles has a thing for biting now, him using your body as a canvas to display his marks.

published . october 13 , 2023

---

🤭

why do you hate me?

tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.

warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

“excuse me?”

john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—

at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.

“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.

your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.

SIMON GHOST RILEY

“what the fuck are y’on about?”

“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.

you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.

“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”

at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.

“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”

JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH

“how dare ye?”

you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.

in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.

“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”

“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.

“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.

maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…

KYLE GAZ GARRICK

“princess, come on…”

kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.

“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.

“there’s my sweet girl!”

he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.

---

this is what people mean when they say life is unfair

It's so hard being a norm girlie in a norm hate world 😕

---