#Exo Ankle

[disabilicom]

Dispositivo dinamico e passivo, si basa su un'innovativa tecnologia elastica che interviene facilitando la dorsiflessione del piede e migliorando così la qualità della deambulazione nei pazienti con drop foot

[dream-4-the-dead]

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW BIG OF A CHOKEHOLD THIS PICS FROM THE NEW PHOTOSHOOT GOT ON ME. ESPECIALLY THE FIRST ONE, OH GOD.

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways. 

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it. 

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him. 

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige. 

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter. 

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds. 

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—” 

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.” 

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year. 

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen. 

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia. 

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt. 

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds. 

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds. 

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds. 

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through? 

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.” 

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta'em - healing and closure part one

Masterlist - part thirteen

Summary: In the aftermath of the battle, some tensions are high, and the Sullys have to learn how to let go.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: canon-compliant, mature language, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, rushed, time skips, fluff, angst, major character death, child endangerment, etc.

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings @tojisleftarm @andyfromku @ivysully @lightandshadow31

A/N: As Anakin Skywalker once said, "This is where the fun begins." 😈

I had to split this chapter into two parts because it was getting to be over 15k words... so expect the second one soon!

Smoke continued to fill the air well into the new day after the eclipse was spent in nothing but war and bloodshed. Ronal could still smell it all in her nose, making her stomach churn but she stomped down her disgust and continued her duties as tsahik. While the Sully family sat around their dead son and brother, quiet and in shock, too tired to move from their spots on the rock surface, she tended to any of their treatable wounds. For the most part, Toruk Makto was the worst out of all of them, with several cuts and bruises littered across his face and body, likely sporting broken ribs on top of that. He insisted on waiting for Ronal to heal him, however, in exchange for his daughter and his sister to be treated before him.

Young Kiri had knife marks on her neck and when Ronal provided a salve, the young girl reverted to her own healing knowledge as a tsakaremand treated the wound herself without saying a word. Meanwhile, Makayla was sporting matching knife wounds on her neck, a bruised tswin, as well as a cut-up, twisted ankle. Ronal took her time treating the female avatar, using long, leisurely strokes of her fingers along Kayla's throat, spreading the salve across the thin slice. She did her best to be gentle around Kayla's queue braid, prodding gently around the base at the back of her skull. Kayla never spoke a word, shivering under Ronal's touch and simply nodding her head in gratitude once the tsahik finally wrapped her foot up. Ronal nods her head in return and moves away to treat Jakesully.

He had placed himself beside his sister while Ronal tended to her, and when it was his turn to be inspected for injuries, he took the time to explain to Kayla everything that happened and filled her in on moments she missed during the fight. Ronal wasn't fluent in the Sky People's language, but she caught a name called 'Quaritch' falling from Toruk Makto's mouth, and the word 'dead' followed it.

"He's gone," Jake told Kayla grimly, "I made sure of it."

"Alright," his sister croaked quietly, her voice shot from all the screaming and crying she had done throughout the whole battle. She didn't say anything else.

Meanwhile, Kiri and Lo'ak were gathered around Spider, listening to him as the human boy told his friends what had happened to him after Quaritch captured him. It was clear that he was leaving some parts out and simplifying certain moments, but neither of the Sully siblings questioned it, knowing that it had been a long, trying day and everyone was exhausted. Kiri and Lo'ak will eventually want to learn every little thing that happened to their friend but today was not one of those days. Those kids had been through enough as of late.

Spider informed Jake and Kayla of the more important details of his escapades, mentioning one of his masks had a tracker in it, but he wasn't sure if the exo-pack that had been thrown to him while abandoning the sinking ship had one as well. Jake and Kayla exchange a silent look between siblings and already, they were making plans for any upcoming battles, reverting to their old, military ways and as children of war.

Once Ronal appeared satisfied with everyone's wounds, she carefully stood up and returned to Tonowari and their children, who had stood off to the side to give the Sullys their respective space, "I have done all that I can from here, but I will need to tend to the rest of our people, and preferably from the healing huts where I have all of my supplies."

Tonowari nods in agreement before turning his eyes to Jake, who meets his gaze as the chief gently speaks, "We must return to the village to tend to our wounded and mourn our losses."

Jake gives Tonowari a solemn nod, two fathers who were exhausted both physically and mentally, drained from what they endured trying to protect their families. With very few words, Tonowari gathered his wife and children to follow him back into the water, but not without some tear-filled expressions as Tsireya and Ao'nung were hesitant to leave their friends in their sorrow. Rotxo appeared to be their voice of reason until finally, the three reef children dove back into the ocean to summon their ilu.

Toruk Makto watches the olo'eyktan and his family leave before turning to his own wife and children, "We should head back, too. Let's go, everyone."

Neytiri merely nods, her silence holding a heavy chill throughout the whole family. Her eyes stared off into the distance, far away from her mind while still holding onto Neteyam with all the strength she still had left. It was only after Jake bent down to pick up their son's body that she was able to shakily stand herself, letting go of Neteyam's cold hand in exchange for Tuk's warm, little one.

Kiri and Lo'ak stood once their mother did so, the latter of the two beckoning their human friend to follow them, "Come on, Spider."

Spider nods and dutifully stands, only to freeze right in his tracks when Neytiri's yellow eyes flick onto him. The entire family froze alongside him, watching Neytiri with caution as if the scene where she held a knife to Spider was still fresh in the back of their minds. Only Lo'ak seemed to be confused, looking around at his family after they had all appeared to turn to stone the moment Spider moved. Spider visibly stopped breathing, a small wave of fear returning when those same eyes he had witnessed become unhinged and animalistic continued to size him up. Neytiri didn't appear as threatening as before, however, now more defeated than enraged in the heat of battle and after the loss of her child. Before, she looked at Spider as a means of killing Quaritch's spirit in exchange for Neteyam's death and Kiri's freedom. Now, she looked at the human boy as if he was a dead pest left in front of her marui.

When Neytiri finally spoke, her voice was no better than Kayla's, hoarse and broken, but still capable of stabbing Spider in the chest like ice, "No. We cannot take him back to the village, or we risk giving away the Metkayina's home to the Sky People."

Lo'ak reared back at his mother's words, immediately defensive, "What are you talking about?"

"We can't just leave him here." Tuk whimpered.

"And we cannot bring him back to the village," Neytiri told her children firmly, still glaring down at Spider, "Or we risk him telling those demons where we are."

"Neytiri--"

Jake's word of warning is interrupted by none other than Spider, the teen's words falling out of his mouth before he could stop them, "Why would you believe I'd do that?"

The world stills and the Sullys are just as equally shocked by him speaking up against Neytiri of all people before he continued without much thought, hurt by her accusation after everything he's been through for her family, "What have I ever done to make you believe I would betray the Na'vi?"

Her yellow eyes simply narrowed, "You've been the demons' prisoner for so long. We don't know what you told them."

"I didn't tell them anything!" He shouts back, but not to be angry or feared. His shout was broken as if he was crying and begging. He was shouting to be heard, to be seen, "I never cracked!"

"Why were they flying ikran?" Neytiri argues back with nothing but more accusations, "Who showed them how?"

"I was buying time for someone to save me!"

"Why would we? You were finally with your own kind!" She shrieked, drawing Spider to pull away and full-body flinch.

"Mom, stop it!" Kiri cried out.

Jake tries reaching out for his wife, "Neytiri..."

Her own yelling had triggered the tears of anguish to return, Neytiri's eyes immediately spilling her grief once more as she looked back at her husband. Jake froze where he stood, feeling as though he was brought back in time as he stared at the same expression Neytiri bore when she first lost her father and Hometree all those years ago, forcing Jake to be reminded of his past mistakes, 

"These demons..." she shuddered in hatred and distress, "They learned our ways. They learned the will of Eywa, and yet they still hurt our Great Mother and our children. We can't teach them. They cannot be taught. It's like what my mother told you. It is hard to fill a cup that is already full."

The words were thrown back in his face, Neytiri might as well have slapped him. Jake looked down when he couldn't bear to look her in the eyes anymore, only to fall onto the sight of Neteyam's body nestled safely in his arms as if still an infant. The mental image only drove Jake into biting the inside of his cheek, fresh tears spilling out of his eyes but he refused to release a sound. His left ear twitches at the sound of someone stepping up beside him, his sister's voice coming to his defense.

"'They' are the people Jake and I were born into," Kayla finally spoke up, stepping forward with only a little bit of difficulty no thanks to her ankle. Her eyes were stone when looking directly at her sister-in-law, "You forget that, Neytiri. You forget where Jake and I come from."

"That is different," the Na'vi woman shook her head defiantly, "You've learned to love and respect our ways."

"And Spider has done nothing but love and respect your ways his whole life!" Kayla shouted back, causing all the children around her to flinch and lower their eyes. Neytiri turns to stone, solidifying her stance and refusing to back down. Kayla was huffing out pent-up anger and exhaustion, her voice like gravel as she gritted out, "I've easily killed more people today than Spider ever has in his lifetime. Why am I more deserving of your respect than he is?"

"Enough," all eyes -except for Kayla's- turn to Jake, his own voice broken and not strong enough to command as easily as he's used to. Jake cleared his throat to correct his voice before pointedly staring between Neytiri and Kayla, "You two, not now, please. Kayla... Kayla."

She finally looks away from Neytiri at the sound of her brother addressing her. Jake continued, "Spider was mentioning a tracker in one of the masks he was wearing. This one's different but it wouldn't hurt to be extra cautious. Do you have a spare?"

Kayla shrugs, looking away to continue carefully watching Neytiri while responding, "I might. But if we're really worried about the RDA tracking us down, I'll try to see what I can do to detect a tracker in his mask from here. You guys head back to the village without us. We'll catch up. Jake, you should probably radio High Camp when you get back and let them know what happened."

"You're not breaking your link tonight?"

"I don't want to... I'm needed here right now." When she peered back at Jake, he didn't look very soothed by her response, his eyes full of doubt, aging by the second and so she was quick to reassure him, "It's alright. I was there the other night. I'll just wait until things quiet down here."

The Sullys appear satisfied by her words and begin to move slowly, sluggish and heavy from today's events, their loss still weighing down their postures. Lo'ak and Kiri occasionally looked back at Spider as they departed as if they were worried this would be the last time they ever saw him. Neytiri was the last to break away with her family, her eyes also still wary of Kayla from their little stand-off before the Na'vi woman finally turned her back on the avatar and returned to her ikran. She only took flight until after Jake and the children sunk into the ocean, Jake's tsurak carrying Neteyam's body back to the village.

Once the Sullys had disappeared, all that was left was Kayla and Spider, along with the sounds of distant fire crackling and waves surrounding them. Kayla's ikran squawks irritably, breaking Kayla's trance. The avatar turns to look down at Spider, inspecting him quietly before beckoning him to follow her, "Come with me, kid."

He silently does so, now more exhausted and suspicious than before, guarded as they both walk over to Thena. Spider's eyes briefly light up with that familiar love of Pandora he always openly shared, amazed by Kayla's ikran and impressed with how much the avatar had managed to accomplish in his absence, "She's awesome."

"I wouldn't go telling her that," Kayla snorts while patting Thena's snout and ducking under her neck. Kayla rifles through the pouches she had sewn onto her ikran's saddle until she found what she was looking for, revealing small human tools she had packed for her long journey across the ocean. She was nothing if not careful, and her preparedness was proven useful in this instance.

Spider noticed the tools in her hand and peered up at her skeptically, "You don't have a spare mask, do you?"

"No. But I have tools. I'll try to remove the tracker if there is one."

"Why didn't you just tell Jake you didn't have a spare pack?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, "I thought you needed a break from the interrogation."

He paused, unprepared for that answer. Exuding a look that expressed he felt a little bashful and appreciative, he flashed a small smile before it quickly vanished and he glanced down at his feet while muttering, "Thanks."

"You bet."

Kayla had Spider sit down while she knelt behind him, inspecting his mask and poking and prodding to make sure he'll still be able to breathe while she worked. They sat in silence, the stench of smoke still prominent in Kayla's nose, but she felt relieved to know that Spider wouldn't be able to smell the death and decay around them with a filter in his mask.

Spider fiddled with a pebble in his hands, longingly staring over the ocean while quietly admitting, "I don't wanna go back."

He felt Kayla's hands pause while inspecting his mask, but otherwise couldn't see her reaction as she sighed, "I know you don't. But the RDA knows where you are now."

"They know where I am in the mountains, too." He muttered.

"If there's a tracker in here, I'll disarm it, and you could go back to the mountains and Ardmore will be none the wiser. She'll still think you're here. You'll be safe from all of them... for a little while at least."

"Why does it matter if I go or stay?" Spider questions with a slight jeer, tired from adults continuously telling him they know better than him. He points out the obvious, "They want you and Jake. This place is as much a target as home is."

"Which is why being far from us might be what's best for you. Besides, Ardmore doesn't have the manpower to track us down at the moment. All her Recoms are dead. She won't have any avatars on her side any time soon."

Spider's spine stiffens, his blood running cold. If Kayla had noticed his uncharacteristic silence, she didn't mention it or just coughed it up to the amount of stress and trauma the teen had just gone through. They reverted to silence once more while Kayla worked, and eventually, once she announced that there wasn't any tracker, she almost missed what Spider was saying as the wind began to pick up,

"One. She still has one..."

Kayla's hands pause again and pull away, leaving Spider cold, "Who?"

"Quaritch." His voice caught in his throat and he had to cough, hiding the shame in his hand.

When he bravely turned to see Kayla's reaction, she bore a look of disbelief while looking out in the distance, "But Jake said he--"

Spider shakes his head, "He didn't drown."

He didn't need to elaborate. As the silence lingered, Kayla fit all of the puzzle pieces in her head and figured it out herself. Spider noticed the dawning of realization on her face and panicked over the idea of her leaving him here on this rock, stranded. He immediately began to ramble as the fear of being abandoned took over him, "I'm sorry. I saw him and-- I couldn't leave him. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"Spider. Look at me."

When he does so, albeit terrified by her tone of voice, all he sees is determination instead of doubt or disgust. She waited until the kid was looking directly at her before she leveled him with a stern look, "No one can know. Alright? Don't tell anyone else about this. Promise me that this stays between us. I mean it. If anyone else found out, they would definitely send you away, or worse, do you understand?"

He quickly nods, trying to remember to breathe through his panic, but the relief that flowed through him was quickly replaced with dread. The shock wore off and he suddenly realized Kayla was willing to protect him and his secret. His chest squeezed painfully at the thought of the kind of consequences she could go through for something like that.

"Are you mad?"

She took a moment to collect her thoughts before exhaling a deep sigh through her nose and shaking her head, "No. I get it, kid. He's your dad. And... and you gave him something he's never given anyone. Mercy. I hope he doesn't forget that."

Spider's whole form began to shake and when Kayla initially thought he was cold, she looked closer only to realize he was fighting back tears behind his mask, likely shaking from adrenaline and holding back sobs. He lowered his head to hide his face as he whispered, "Please don't let them send me away."

Pity for this child came in full force as Kayla struggled to find the right words. Her thoughts were racing with a war of their own, conflicted about what she should do. The thought of keeping a secret from Jake and his family made her stomach turn uncomfortably, but another part of her knew, deep down, that it was the only solution. Kayla had watched Jake and Neytiri do unspeakable things for the sake of their children, and today alone Neytiri proved she wasn't above harming a child if she thought it would protect her family. As for Jake... Kayla wasn't entirely sure what her brother was capable of anymore, and in her mind, that made him dangerous. She couldn't trust anyone dangerous around Spider if they knew the truth about Quaritch. Besides, it's not like her suspicion of her brother was unwarranted. After all, he wasn't above abandoning Spider when he needed help the most.

"... Alright. I'll try," she decides to quickly change the subject before another word or any regret could be said about her decision, "So do you have any idea how they found us?"

Spider fixed her a small look of doubt before slowly answering, "They only found out where you were when a rogue gunship was spotted coming this way."

Kayla hissed through her teeth, wincing at hers and Norm's stupidity, "Shit."

"But they don't know where the village is exactly-- only that you're among the many islands around in the area," Spider reassured her before curiosity took over, "Why did you guys bring a gunship out here?"

Kayla rolled her lips before answering, "Jake radioed in and begged us to come and find them because Kiri needed medical attention," the moment she saw a shift of concern begin to grow on Spider's face, she held a hand up to stop him before he could ask, "It's okay. She's fine now."

Spider relaxed, replaying Kayla's story before confusion took over, "So wait, you weren't with them the whole time?"

Kayla stiffened, "No. Jake thought it'd be best if I stayed behind."

Deciding not to explain any further, Kayla points down to the cut on his chest, "Let's tend to that. We don't want it to get infected."

At the reminder of the wound, Spider's expression darkens and he simply nods. Kayla grabbed her small trauma kit from one of Thena's pouches and knelt down in front of the human teen this time, inspecting the cut before getting to work. It was superficial, not very deep, just long and thin. Nevertheless, Kayla remembers Neytiri using that same knife to draw blood countless times before using it on Spider... and the avatar woman didn't even want to think about whatever disease or infection Spider would have to suffer on top of the trauma Neytiri likely gave him if it wasn't properly cleaned and dressed. Kayla hadn't missed the way Ronal purposely avoided Spider when going around and healing whoever she could. She only hoped that Spider hadn't noticed... or worse, he did notice but just felt resigned to the usual neglect and mistreatment.

Kayla couldn't imagine what must be going on through Spider's head right now. Having someone's knife to your throat and still begging for Kiri's life instead of your own? Kayla had to wonder if Spider ever had someone who would put him above life itself like that.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He winced, "No."

"Okay," she immediately shuts down whatever she was going to originally say, "But just so you know, she'll never do that again. I'll make sure of it."

He didn't look as though he believed her, shrugging it off with a small, hesitant smile, "Yeah, okay... It's good to see you, Kayla."

She smiled back, although not as wide or as relieved as she had liked to feel, but no one could blame her after everything she's been through today, "You, too, kiddo. I'm glad you're safe."

Once she's satisfied with how the bandage around Spider's chest will hold, she helps him up onto Thena and forms tsaheylu, hiking herself up onto the ikran's back before taking off to the skies. The fly felt shorter than it initially felt when she first flew out with the Metkayina to fight the Sky People and save the children. Once the village was in sight, Spider's jaw had opened in awe of its beauty, eyes sparkling in wonder. As Kayla descends lower to the ground, she sees the number of Metkayina who had come out to fight. The numbers have dwindled, but for the most part, they were whole and hovered close to the healing huts. Kayla noticed some heads turn up at her arrival but otherwise did nothing. They were either used to the ikrans' presence, or they were too tired to care after such a long battle.

The only time the Metkayina appeared concerned was when Kayla landed Thena on the beach, where all eyes could clearly see the small demon child riding with her. Waves of gasps and whispers can be heard, a crowd slowly beginning to gather but Kayla pointedly doesn't wait or stand around, steering Spider toward the direction of the Sully marui right away to not make the teenager a village spectacle. Spider looked around the village as they walked, but didn't really get a good look at everything with how urgent Kayla was leading him away, despite the pain in her ankle.

But the Metkayina had already gotten a good look at him, and the hushed whispers were already spreading around until they got to their olo'eyktan. Tonowari and Ronal were conversing outside the healing huts when word got to them about a human child among their ranks. When they peered up to see the commotion, they briefly saw a glimpse of the demon boy's blond hair, followed by Kayla, a towering pillar of protection as she quickly led him through the maze of pathways winding through the village, mothers quickly pulling away their children if the demon boy walked too close. It was a curious sight to see someone so small being shielded by another Na'vi so large. Ronal hissed at the sight of Kayla putting weight on her injured ankle but otherwise said nothing.

Tonowari's expression shrivels up to one of concern before promptly turning back to his mate, "Do you remember when I told you Makayla te Suli considers the demon boy her responsibility?"

~~~~~~~~~

When the avatar and teenager got to the edge of the pods, looking out over the lagoon, Spider noticed Jake and Lo'ak sitting outside a marui that must be the Sullys' new home. Toruk Makto looked up once Kayla and the boy drew closer and quickly stood to greet them, Lo'ak quickly following to do the same. The Forest boy beelined for Spider, firmly grasping his friend's shoulder and gently shoving him toward the pod.

"Come on, bro. Kiri's got some food started for you."

Spider follows inside without a word, glancing back at Kayla from over his shoulder before disappearing. Kayla remained outside once Jake made it clear he needed to talk to her.

"I radioed Norm." He explains.

"And?"

"I told him what he needed to know. I..." Jake swallowed and folded his arms, finding it difficult to speak when his throat began to close up, "I couldn't tell him all of it. 'Couldn't tell him about Neteyam. I..."

He was struggling for words without getting all choked up or shutting down. Kayla immediately takes over the talking, placing a hand on her brother's arm, "Jake... it's okay."

He peered up and she offered him a small, sad smile, "You did good. I'll let High Camp know when I eventually have to go back. Or Mo'at will tell everyone. I mean, she is the tsahik. Wouldn't she connect to the Tree of Souls and instantly know?"

He shook his head, "Not if she wasn't looking for something specific."

Kayla's nose scrunches before relaxing. She'll never get used to how Eywa functions at this rate, "Alright. Well, we'll just go with the flow and deal with it once it comes back around. Where's Neytiri?"

"With Neteyam. The Metkayina placed him in a healing hut so she and I could... could..." He cleared his throat, "So we can clean him up and prep for the burial tonight."

"Okay. You go," she whispers gently while tilting her head toward the marui, "I'll stay with the kids."

Jake's eyes were cloudy but grateful, "Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~

As day turned into night, the village began to grow quiet but not because the hour was late. To mourn and respect the loss of their loved ones, the Metkayina either sang the songcords of those who were slain in battle or opted into saying nothing at all. Soon the Na'vi will all leave their respective homes to gather together in a ceremonial send-off, ready to let the bodies of their loved ones return to the ocean and their Great Mother.

The Sullys were among those ready to send their loved one off. By the time Jake and Neytiri returned to their marui, Kayla had the children washed up and prepared for the ceremony. They all -except Spider- bore white face paint, brushed over their skin in a specific pattern to symbolize their loss. Neytiri and Jake also bore white paint, parts of which covered Jake's stitched-up and bruised face now that Ronal had the time to properly heal him. Neytiri bore the same white face paint but also added black around her eyes to signify her tears and grief as a mother, a white, veil-like material hung around her face from the top of her head. No one said anything, but they all noticed a familiar necklace that once belonged to Neteyam now wrapped around Neytiri's neck.

Before going out to join the village, Neytiri started the tradition of singing the deceased's songcord, her fingers counting each bead, and each milestone in Neteyam's short life, all expressed through her song. The lyrics, designed by Neytiri, described her son's life, from birth until recent events, moments that Neteyam deemed worthy to be remembered, recorded as history in his waytelem. 

Lie si oe neteyamur Nawma sa'nokur mìfa oeyä Atanti ngal molunge Mipa tìreyti, mipa 'itanti Lawnol a mì te'lan Lawnol a mì te'lan

Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe Tonìri tìreyä Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe Srrìri tìreyä Ma Eywa, ma Eywa 

The family clings to the song, willing themselves to remember it, before heading out into the village and retrieving Neteyam's body.

He was clean and wrapped to rest in the fetal position, eyes closed as if he was only sleeping. His braids were pulled back and tied into a hairband, a detail of Lo'ak's doing. The Sullys summon ilu and tie a floating leaf-made carrier behind Jake's as a means of transporting Neteyam. The Metkayina all follow the Sullys out to the Cove of the Ancestors, where they lay their dead to rest eternally at Eywa's breast, leaving Neteyam for last. Jake leads his family away from the other Na'vi, who all stay behind to witness the family return their son, brother, nephew, and friend back to the ocean and back to Eywa. Behind Neteyam's carrier was a trail of flower petals, floating on the ocean surface, creating a path of the young warrior's last journey. Once his family reaches the perfect spot to let Neteyam go, they all slip from their ilu and into the water, padding over to the leaf carrier and helping one another get Neteyam out.

Below the surface, toward the bottom of the cove, was a beautiful field of some sort of coral plant, gently moving back and forth against the current like it was wind, glowing like a golden field of grain under the water. Tuk and Lo'ak briefly touch Neteyam's face, one last time, tears still fresh in their eyes, before Neytiri and Jake take deep breaths and plunge underwater, bringing Neteyam down with them. The remaining Sullys and Spider stay on the surface but lower their heads into the water to watch Jake and Neytiri bury their son. Kiri and Spider held hands in comfort while Tuk reached for her aunt's. Kayla gladly holds onto Tuk's hand, gently squeezing it to reassure the child.

Jake and Neytiri dive deep, close enough to reach the fields of glowing coral before finally letting go of Neteyam. They start floating back up to the surface but never once let their eyes leave Neteyam's body as the coral slowly envelopes him, welcoming him with open arms that is Eywa. Lo'ak had to be one of the first to lean back up for air when he accidentally breathed underwater after letting out a mournful cry, and slowly, the rest of his family followed suit, swimming close to one another until all the Sullys huddled together, crying over their loss.

Before they headed back to the village, there was just one last thing Jake and Neytiri needed to do. They sunk back into the water and swam toward the Spirit Tree, intending on seeing Neteyam once more, alive, if only but a memory. Lo'ak and Tuk go with... And for obvious reasons, Spider and Kiri could not follow. The young Na'vi girl had told her dear friend what happened to her after he asked about the medical attention she needed prompting Norm, Max, and Kayla to come out to the ocean. Spider was sad to learn that Kiri was more like him now more than ever, unable to connect with Eywa but Kiri wouldn't listen to his pity. She had only shaken her head and reassured Spider that she would be fine... but this would be proven difficult after burying her brother. Spider felt the same, sad that he was unable to properly say goodbye to Neteyam. But they weren't alone.

Kayla opted to stay with the two teens, astride a separate ilu while Kiri shared hers with Spider. Kiri watched her family depart for the Spirit Tree with a heavy heart, grieving over the fact she couldn't say goodbye to her brother, let alone connect to Eywa, while Spider simply gripped her arm in comfort. When he briefly glances back at Kayla, he sees a woman whose gaze looks far away, distant from the present, not actually seeing anything. She only had one white stripe of face paint down her nose that she had Tuk do to distract the little girl from the events of the day, but otherwise wore the same thing she always wears, her red crop top and cargo shorts, now dirty from a long-winded battle. Given that it was a cool night, she could've worn a jacket... but the one she had packed was burned at the first chance she got, unable to fathom the idea of wearing something caked in her nephew's blood ever again.

Spider tilted his head toward the Spirit Tree, his mask hissing quietly as he breathed, "You should go say goodbye."

Kayla blinked and then returned to the present time, looking over where she had heard Spider's voice. If he had blinked, he would've missed the fast change in expression, her face suddenly morphing into something soft and kind. It was as if she had just placed a mask over her facial features, hiding whatever she was truly feeling behind it. Kiri hadn't noticed, but Spider did.

Kayla shakes her head, "There's time for that later. Come on. Let's wait for them back at home."

~~~~~~~~~

How long had Kayla been on Pandora? Months? Years? It certainly felt like it. If she had to guess, rounding it up, it would be close to two years now. Two years... and finally she understood why the Na'vi could dress so little and still be kept warm at night.

She had never been a part of those group sleeps the Na'vi were so fond of. Now she was nearly in the center of one. That night after all the horror the Sullys had gone through, a group huddle whilst they slept was inevitable, not wanting to let go of each other so soon after losing one.

Kayla was pressed up against Lo'ak's side, the young Na'vi boy curling his whole form into his mother's back as much as he possibly could. Neytiri was trapped between her son and her husband, Jake doing his very best to get his arms around his whole family even in his sleep. Tuk was sprawled over almost everyone like a blanket. She was spread over her parents and snuggling her cold nose around Lo'ak's head, near Kayla's ear. On the other side of Kayla was Kiri, who originally fell asleep and curled close to her aunt but has since moved, and then there was Spider. At first, he had gone to bed a few feet away, giving the family as much space as possible. That is, of course, until Kiri unconsciously turned around, pulled him into her space, and refused to let go. Apparently, Kiri is an aggressive snuggler. 

Kayla knew she couldn't move even if she wanted to, trapped by the teenagers on either side of her, and perhaps they had done so intentionally so she couldn't escape to her campsite. It wasn't a bad experience, but she usually needed to toss and turn before getting comfortable, and she was starting to get hot tucked within such a large pile of body heat.

There's a soft whimper of crying in her ear, and when Kayla turns her head, she notices Tuk, her face scrunched up in distress, but still deep in sleep. As the child squirmed and cried unconsciously, her parents also began to stir, and then finally, the other children as well. Once the rest of the Sullys were awake and moving, Kayla wasn't worried about waking anyone when she reached a hand out to touch Tuk's cheek in an attempt to wake her, "Tuk? It's alright, Tuk. Wake up."

Neytiri took the initiative and sat up straight to tend to her child, gathering the little girl up in her arms like she was still a baby. The movement was enough to finally wake Tuk and immediately, she began to openly cry once she recognized her surroundings. Kiri sat up once she heard her sister consciously crying and crawled over Kayla and Lo'ak to get to her, "What is wrong, Tuk?"

Neytiri shushes both of her daughters quietly, "Shh, shh, ma 'itetsyìp. It is alright. Mama is here."

Tuk furiously shook her head as she began to wail, louder and more distraught than before as she cried out, "I want Neteyam! I-- I want Neteyam--"

The whole marui tenses as they all wait for Neytiri's reaction. Understandably, she didn't react well. Neytiri's eyes immediately began to cloud and well up with tears, ears pinning back against her skull. Her pupils flick wildly about, no longer able to focus on the child in her arms. Her breaths were irregular, her mind visibly spiraling out of control. She looked like a cornered animal, trapped without any means of escape.

The first one to move was Kayla, sluggishly moving until she was crouching in front of Neytiri, gently prying poor Tuk out of her mother's arms and into her own. Neytiri breaks out of her trance for a moment, blinking once and taking in the sight of Tuk crying in Kayla's chest. She peers up and nods once in gratitude before swiftly standing and leaving the pod before her children can see another moment of her vulnerability.

Kayla continues to put on a brave face and quietly shush Tuk, gently rocking the little girl until her cries revert to soft hiccups and sniffles. No one else says a word and they try their best to go back to sleep, but the grief is heavy in the air along with worry for their wife and mother. Jake stays awake the whole time Kayla comforts his daughter, watching the entrance of his home with longing and concern. He forced himself to stomp down the urge to run after Neytiri when his role as a father took over. He shifted until he had his arms around Lo'ak and Kiri, whispering words of encouragement and trying to get them to go back to sleep as if they were still little. The teenagers didn't appear to mind being coddled, given the circumstances, and together, Lo'ak and Kiri gathered Spider and decided on sharing a nivi together, off to the side of the pod. Jake watches the teens crawl up into the large hammock together and fall asleep before resuming his post at the entrance of the marui, waiting for Neytiri while occasionally glancing back at Kayla and Tuk. Eventually, even Tuk managed to fall back asleep and Kayla carefully lifted her up and brought the little girl to the nivi to join her siblings. Tuk sleepily clings onto Spider and doesn't move for the rest of the night.

When Neytiri returned, she didn't look any better from when she initially left, her eyes bloodshot with drying tear tracks engraved into her face like the stripes that littered her body. It was chilling to see the mighty Neytiri, fierce and stronger than anyone in her clan, so shattered and forlorn. Jake stood and opened his mouth to soothe her, but she simply shook her head, her face speaking more than words could at that moment. There wasn't anything he or anyone could say that could comfort her right now. Jake read her meaning loud and clear and simply watched as his wife looked around for their children. She saw them all huddled together in their nivi, and she was too tired to comment on Spider being among them. And even if she wanted to, Kayla made sure to distract her long enough to forget about it.

The female avatar gently urged her sister-in-law to lie down and try to rest, and if she was shocked that Neytiri decided on using her leg as a pillow, Kayla didn't mention it. Instinctively, Kayla's fingers weave through Neytiri's braids to calm her as if she were comforting a child. Not wanting to wake her nieces and nephew, Kayla did her best to sing quietly, raspy, as best as she could so Neytiri could hear and understand her. The avatar decided on the lyrics to Neteyam's songcord, and even though it wasn't as practiced or accurate coming out of her voice, it still calmed Neytiri's aching heart.

Singing helped Kayla not to think about it. Instead, it helped her focus on the lyrics and the proper pronunciation. Her accent was still a little shaky and too formal at times, so as she tried to focus and perfect the lyrics, she didn't have to think about the meaning or the child behind the lines and how he had been taken too soon. She sang the whole song and repeated it a few times before she realized Neytiri had fallen asleep, albeit a bit restlessly.

Jake felt utterly helpless while listening to his sister sing to Neytiri, but didn't hesitate to express his gratitude once he noticed his mate had finally begun to rest, "Thank you." He whispered.

Kayla had been helping adjust the sleeping Neytiri until she was lying down on the nearest cot. She simply nodded in response to Jake before lying down further away from the rest of the family and turning her back so she was facing the wall of the marui. The air was significantly colder without any body heat to keep her warm, but she didn't dare move from where she lay. She wanted her much-needed space, where she could cry silently by herself and where no one could see or hear her. She desperately wished she had slept in her own hammock on the outskirts of the village, but she didn't want to leave anyone in her brother's family alone with their thoughts... and a guilty part of her admits that she couldn't afford to leave Spider anywhere near her sister-in-law at this time.

Listening until she was positive that Jake had laid down beside Neytiri for the rest of the night, Kayla let the tears silently flow out of her eyes, biting her cheek to refrain from making any sounds that would give her away. She could feel her body begin to shake. Whether it was from the cold or her pent-up emotions, she wasn't sure. Either way, it would be a long, restless night for Makayla as she lay awake and listened to the sounds of her family around her.

A/N: Can I respectfully ask people to stop flooding my dms and inbox with specific questions regarding the future of the fic? I already know how I want the fic to pan out, and if I answered your questions, it could be spoiling it 😇 You are more than welcome to ask questions regarding past decisions or anything regarding Kayla from her past, but from here on out-- I'm locking down ALL future-related questions! Thank you for understanding.

The second part of this chapter will be out soon! It was mostly written before I was forced to split the chapter in half, so stay tuned!

Check out AI Generated art of Kayla!

[sassyjoy]

private party

genre: smut

pairing: joy x chanyeol (exo) 

word count: 1.3k

⋆｡˚ ⋆ ☾

"quiet, baby. your boyfriend will hear you." chanyeol whispers to joy's ear before continuing to kiss her neck. his hands traveled down to her curves and down to her butt. joy can't seem to be still; lust is evident in her eyes. she just wants to get laid right now. 

it was joy's birthday. crush, her boyfriend, threw a party for his girlfriend to celebrate the special day with close friends. who would've thought joy would see chanyeol here, her ex-boyfriend, and to be fair, crush didn't even know that joy has a past with one of his closest friends in the industry. 

joy and chanyeol's split up was a mutual decision. they thought it would be best to just break up since they rarely meet each other due to their busy schedules. weeks after that separation, they met again in an event held by their company and that's when they've decided to occasionally meet up for sex. even though joy has a new boyfriend, she can't stop meeting her ex. chanyeol, on the other side, can't also let her go because sex with his ex-girlfriend was too good to let go. 

chanyeol lifted joy up to the sink and reached for the hem of her pink silk dress, and yanked it up to her waist. to his surprise, she's wearing the underwear he bought overseas for their concert. red definitely looks good on her, he thought. but he pulled it down to her ankles since she looks better without any undergarment on. joy spread her legs wide for chanyeol to have an access on her shaved pussy. 

"chanyeol..." joy lurched when she felt the man's hot breath in her cunt. chanyeol wrapped his arms around her thighs before burying his mouth to her pussy. he maintained eye contact with joy as he swiped his tongue on her core. joy has been thinking how good it would feel to have chanyeol's head between her legs since she saw chanyeol this evening. she noticed that he changed his hair color back to black, and for her, he looks the best in this color even though her boyfriend has the same dark hair. her lust for him grew even more when she remembered how hot her ex-boyfriend was in their new music video for their comeback. 

crush would definitely be mad if he sees this view of his friend kneeling to eat his girlfriend out in the restroom. joy pushed chanyeol's head closer to her pussy. his nose being in contact with her sensitive core makes her go crazy. she can't get enough of this sensation. 

joy's moans are getting louder so chanyeol get up to kiss her. their lips moved in sync, lusting over each other. chanyeol wanted to leave a mark on her so bad, but he chose not to. he was eager to fuck joy and it is apparent in his actions towards her. he inserted his huge hands inside her dress to squeeze her well-rounded breasts, causing her to open her mouth. chanyeol took this chance to suck her tongue. 

chanyeol pulled out of the kiss to unzip his pants. he was about to put a condom on when joy stopped him. 

"i want you raw. just like the last time. please." joy begged. she loves it raw with chanyeol. joy wanted to feel every inch of his ex-boyfriend's dick inside her. she wanted him to not be careful with her since crush uses a condom whenever they're having sex.

chanyeol helped joy to go down from the sink. he made her turn her back at him, making joy see their reflection in the mirror. he slowly inserted his hard cock in her hole, causing her to gasp. this is the thing he misses the most when they're away from each other. the way she clenches around his cock. her image of being fucked from behind. the way she's playing with her own nipples as he continues to fill her. chanyeol loves every bit of it.

it's a good thing that there's a loud music playing outside since the sounds of moaning and skin slapping won't be heard. joy was leaning her back on chanyeol's broad chest as he shoves his cock into her. chanyeol ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck. he continues to thrust with force inside her ass, showing no signs of wearying. 

"you're so fucking tight." chanyeol rumbled. he pulled joy's dress down from the neckline to free her bouncing breasts. his warm hands caught her soft breasts and gave them a tight squeeze. moans passing joy's mouth didn't stop. 

"you like my dick that much, huh?" chanyeol smirked as he saw joy's reflection in the mirror getting fucked behind. her dress was all wrinkled. her hair was all over her face and is far from being straight. her sweat dripping from her forehead. she looked like a mess, but chanyeol didn't really care. she still looks lovely to him. 

"fuck... please fuck me harder." joy said breathlessly when chanyeol nibbled her earlobe. 

since it's her birthday, chanyeol obliged her request. his hands traveled down to her waist to be in control and began thrusting his pelvis even harder. joy bit her lower lip, but that didn't stop her from drooling. chanyeol stared at joy's face down to her chest with his eyes full of sexual desire. chanyeol was about to kiss joy when someone knocked on the door. 

"chanyeol? i saw you entered here earlier! are you still there?"

it was crush. joy was so surprised that she covered her mouth, afraid that her boyfriend outside the door will hear her whine. she squeezed chanyeol's hand on her waist, signaling him to stop, but he just continued to fuck her ass as if no one's outside. 

"y-yeah?" chanyeol answered.

"are you okay there?" crush asked, but instead of answering him, chanyeol pound joy's ass in a rush, causing joy to grip the sink, and biting her lip harder so she won't make a noise. but chanyeol didn't even tried to hide it. he didn't even have the slightest ounce of concern knowing that joy's boyfriend is just outside. he didn't care if crush would hear the slapping sounds of skins inside the restroom. 

"call of nature!" chanyeol said so that crush would just leave them. he finds it funny that he's fucking his friend's girlfriend. what's worse is that they're in crush's house. 

"okay, just come out quickly! we're slicing the cake once joy comes back!" joy's eyes widened upon hearing her name. the two then heard a knock again from crush, indicating he's leaving. once the boyfriend left the area, joy moaned as she can't suppress the sensation any longer. 

"fuck, i'm cumming!" joy moans, making chanyeol grasp firmly on her hips to control his pace. every thrust hits her spot that makes her go crazy. he felt her clench around his cock and with few more pumps she exploded. but chanyeol didn't stop there. 

"you take me so well." chanyeol slaps her butt causing her to whine. he yanked her hair downwards as he slams his dick deep inside her. he kisses her cheek before pulling out his cock, then hot spurts of cum were released. joy was feeling weak, so chanyeol helped her clean the cum dripping from her pussy. 

"what the fuck are you doing?" joy asked when she saw the male kneeling before her. 

"cleaning your mess." he answered before licking the white sticky substance in her inner thighs. he maintained eye contact with her, like he always does, but joy shut her eyes tightly. chanyeol followed the trail of her cum on her legs with his tongue. joy was gripping her dress as if her life's depended upon it. 

joy released a sigh upon the lost of contact with chanyeol's mouth on her legs, making the latter chuckle. 

"why? do you want more?" chanyeol teases her as he wiped the corner of his lips. joy just rolled her eyes at him and he just laughed at her reaction. when the two were done fixing their clothes and erasing their sex traces, chanyeol left the restroom first. he said he'll try to divert the guests' attention so that joy can leave the area, earning no suspicions from people. 

[jaemmphilia]

☾ violent night ☽

☾ synopsis: you are sick and tired of chen hogging all the blankets. especially when the heater is broken and it's below freezing. ☾ featuring: chen (exo) x gn!reader ☾ prompt: "i almost fist-fought you last night when you took the blanket." ☾ warnings: chen is an accidental meanie, slight age gap (31 and 27), oral (m receiving) ☾ disclaimer: this is just a work of fiction and does not represent chen as a person. ☾ triplejracha, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or upload to other platforms.

read hjenthusiasts' version hereeeee! <33

a gust of freezing air hit your bare legs and jolted you out of what was once a nice, warm slumber. your body shivered, your hand reaching blindly for the thick duvet. when you felt nothing there, your eyes opened, slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room.

you rolled over just a bit to see your boyfriend, jongdae, curled up with the duvet in his arms. you furrowed your brows and tugged the blanket out of his grip. jongdae didn't even stir, he just let go of the blanket and let out a deep sigh. you rolled your eyes and got back into your comfortable position, your eyes closing as you fell back to sleep.

the next morning, you're up making coffee for you and jongdae, one of your thick throw blankets wrapped around your shoulders. you hope that someone can come out and look at your heating, it's been out for almost three weeks and you don't know how much more could take.

you hear heavy footsteps trudging down the stairs and you poke your head out of the kitchen doorway to see jongdae tying his robe around his naked upper body. he lets out a loud yawn and you shake your head as you pour the coffee into two mugs (the mugs are matching).

"good morning, handsome," jongdae says to you as he presses a kiss to your temple. you lean into his kiss, a smile painted on your face.

"morning, how did you sleep?" you ask, sliding his mug of coffee toward him as you reach to open a cabinet above you, containing sugar and other coffee additives.

jongdae hums as he takes a sip of his coffee. you'll never understand how he can just drink it straight from the pot and although you might tease him about it, you never shamed him for it. "i slept pretty well, i got a little cold at one point, though."

that's when you remember his heinous act from last night. you halt your movements and you face him with your hands on your hips. your lips are pursed as you look him up and down.

"well, i almost fist-fought you last night when you took the blanket." you state, causing jongdae to stop mid-sip. you see his eyes peer at you over the rim of his tipped mug. you watch as his eyes turn into crescents, his cheeks risingin amusment at your "angered" expression.

jongdae's chest rumbles with laughter. on a typical day, you would revel in his laughter, finding joy in such a sound. but right now, you're supposed to be angry with him.

"i don't know why you're laughing, i almost froze to death last night!" you exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at the older male.

"you're being quite dramatic, huh?" jongdae teases you, his mug placed on the counter, his full attention on you now. he's leaning against the counter behind him, his arms crossed against his chest.

you sputter at him, a incredulous look on your face. how dare he, he's supposed to feel bad and apologize to you!

"i am not! i expect you to make this up to me, you know!" you spouted, pouring some sugar into your mug of coffee. you feel jongdae shift beside you then you feel his hand on your hip.

jongdae moves you so that you're standing in front of him. you allow him to maneuver you, looking at him confused. jongdae doesn't say anything, he just gets down on his knees.

now you're even more confused.

jongdae tugs your sleep shorts down to your ankles, taking your boxers with them. he runs his hands up and down your bare thighs, your half-chub right in his face.

he brings his hands up to stroke you to full hardness, making you place your hands on the counter in front of you to hold yourself up. jongdae then wraps his lips around the tip of your cock, which gets you hard pretty fast. you bite the knuckle of your index finger, slightly muffling a moan.

jongdae takes you down further in his mouth, his hand pumping whatever he doesn't have in his mouth. your mouth is open as a multitude of moans spill from your lips, you also started drooling onto the counter at some point.

you aren't known for lasting long when getting a blowjob, this time is no different. it isn't much longer and you're spilling your cum down jongdae's throat, your hips stuttering as your legs nearly give out from under you.

jongdae pulls your shorts and underwear back up for you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

then he just picks up his mug and goes on about his day as you come down from your high. he really is bold.

[love-me-a-lotta-whump]

Hiii!!! ✨ Just started a new K-Drama and the second episode had so much whump!!! It's called "Missing Crown Prince" with Exo's Suho as the ML. 👀

In ep2, the Crown Prince who's been abducted gets into a series of small accidents while blindfolded (trips, falls down a ladder, wounds his ankle, breaks ribs/gets badly bruised, passes out from the pain, gets treated, helped to walk and as if all this wasn't enough, soon after he gets betrayed and stabbed with a sword. In the preview for ep3 which airs next week, he is shown escaping but he's heavily wounded, so we see him carried on someone's back, losing a lot of blood, sick in bed and getting treated by FL and I'm sure there will be more scenes in the actual episode. Since it's a historical drama, I'm sure there's a lot of whump potential in the future episodes too 😁

I hope you'll consider making a list for this 🫰❤️

Another request for the same drama within one day? Oh hell yeah I’m definitely starting it rn!

[bumbleinmyrums]

Today's showoff is the Blu Buel from Model Bingo! Known for using lego parts to attach certain joints together! (In this case the ankle armor and toes made from exo force robot arms) A super simple resin conversion from the mg dual gundam that I would recommend for any beginner that wants to get ur hands dirty🥺

[nova--spark]

imagining thea (human form) in battle, what is her fighting style? what weapon does she use the most? would she be involved in missions against m.e.c.h.? i would love to draw her (to practice and possibly share it if it turns out good) in action and didn’t come up with a scenario yet!

Alrighty this is a fun question to answer because it's so fun.

Anthea, for lack of a better term, is a cheater in fights.

She fights entirely to what can bring her an advantage, because if she's fighting against bots 2 stories tall or more, she needs all she can get.

Because her opponents won't be fair, they'll fight dirty. So she will too

She aims for the eyes, the joints, neck, anything to get them down on her level. Helps that being a hybrid of sorts also makes her semi immune to certain weapons focused on purely Cybertronian biology.

A lot of her attacks are mixed martial arts, you can thank Plasma's training for it, and he's taught her a variety of weapons as well, being a former assassin and current recon and spy for the Autobots.

Anthea, when in her exo-suit, resorts to all kinds of weaponry.

This exo suit projects her holoform disguise, known as Astrea, as well as creates hard light constructs to craft into weaponry, like this:

That said, as this exo-suit [Sirius M01], can also work a little like Noah's Exo-Suit from Mirage. Anthea's Cybrid nature makes her have some light influence on the teach of the suit, meaning she can will it to construct some weapons if necessary, or added armor.

Mainly, she will summon some gauntlets, or a shield of sorts if necessary.

She did fashion an Energon whip, which is tied to her own energy signature. She's quite versatile with it.

Lastly, Anthea was taught proper marksmanship from her mother, and has years of experience with firearms since she was 18.

Anthea's prosthetic legs also have many weapons added into them, courtesy of suggestion from Wheeljack, Plasma and herself more than a few times.

Within just her prosthetics, Anthea has

Blades that can double as arm blades

2 Energon firearms concealed within her thigh panels of the legs

Ankle Jets

Magnetic soles

Ice Skates

Rollerblades

Reinforced Plating

As for Anthea's interactions with M.E.C.H, yes indeed, Anthea is involved with missions relation to their activity.

As she is a hybrid, the kind that MECH would adore getting their hands on, Thea made a deal with Fowler.

She would help, with Plasma, to hunt down their remnants, so long as any evidence of her condition, and missions, were scrubbed and under the table.

M.E.C.H would not get information they wanted, to create something like her.

She also has volunteered to take on the missions the kids can't or are not allowed. Missions of much higher stakes, that her hybrid/techno organic nature means she can easily survive and is better suited for.

Her involvement can very, from running recon, stealing information, or leveling bases with Plasma.

[coffeeangelinabox]

Whumpril #24: No Time To Rest

It’s impossible that they have all made it back here, that they are all sitting around the scrubbed wooden table in the mess eating as they have a hundred times before. The Valjean is drifting in the empty, no stars for miles and precious little traffic this far off the main shipping lanes. The computer will warn them if anything unexpected does come within range - and long before it can see them thanks to Gene’s modifications, but the autopilot can handle it.

They can sit, eat, rest. The whole family back together against impossible odds.

Darrow pulled out of an interrogation chamber and Lee from a prison cell. Gene and David and Jemma all in detention blocks, all subject to the Domain’s various flavours of mental torture, but here and whole and hearty and knowing themselves. He and Rosie and Nico and Casey, no damage but a few bruises and glancing lazer burns, a twisted ankle and lacerated tendril. Their impossible rescue a success. 

They should be able to stop.

And yet, Jay can’t. Some is the residual adrenaline, the nightmares and shakes. The memory every time he closes his eyes of that exo-steel wall that they’d come within millimetres of smearing themselves across, the blast that had missed Nico and Casey by a mere hair with him too far away to do anything, the electrical stun that had nearly ended his too-brief stint in command. More is that the men he has followed much of his life are falling apart.

Lee’s actions have trickled through the crew by now. He keeps to himself, locked in his cabin - for his own safety. Jay would have no hesitation is spacing him. Darrow is almost as reclusive. The betrayal by the man he considered a son has emptied him of spirit far more effectively than the Domain has ever managed. 

David, Gene and Jemma haven’t spoken about their experiences, but they’re all pale, twitchy, jumping at shadows. David had ushered Jay and Rosie and Nico and Casey to the medbay, as he always does, taken one look at his equipment and bolted. Jay had patched them up best he can, guiding Rosie through putting surgical staples down his own clavicle where he couldn’t reach with the help of a mirror and a double dose of pain killers. 

The autopilot can probably handle anything in this area of space, and Jay fervently hopes that that is the case, because no one but him is in any state to answer the alarms. He’s taken to dozing on the bridge, lulled by the gentle beep and whir of the scanners, afraid that if he falls deeply to rest in his cabin he won’t be able to respond to an emergency. When the pull of sleep becomes too seductive, too much the promise of a tide to sweep him away rather than a simple, brief moment, he gets up and walks around.  

He checks and inventories their supplies, determined they can stay here for some time yet. Time enough for someone to heal. 

If they do.

Jay has no idea how to help them. Put a ship and a course before him and there’s no one better, a blaster in hand and a plan of attack - well, hadn’t he proved his skills? Even injuries (his staples pull and itch, but they’ll do, and he knows that the ones he placed in Nico and Casey were far more expert. But this? The terrible loss of self and respect and everything yo u build yourself on that the Domain inflicts?

Darrow and Gene and David have always been so solid, the walls against which Jay has always sheltered. How now to shore up those battlements when their foundations turn out to be made of sand?

He sighs. Checks the plotter once more. Debates weighing anchor and risking the sleep that is weighing down both eyes and mind. 

But they can’t take another battle and the Domain must be searching for them. They are unlikely to simply let half a dozen prisoners including the infamous Darrow slip through their grasp without a murmur. 

How could Lee do this to them? He’s grown up with him, thought him a brother…cousin at least. And more, how can one man destroy everything Jay has built his life on with such catastrophic ease? He’d never thought of Darrow as old before, but now it is easy to see his decades, skin haggard and eyes dimmed. 

Jay checks the board again, determines that nothing will need his attention in the next few minutes and goes to check the engine room. Half his life, the engine room has been Gene’s private domain, entry by invitation only, but Gene too is aged by whatever the Domain did to him. Timid, prone to anxiety and completely shutting down if Jemma is not in immediate sight. She’d cut herself cooking one night, and the engineer had cried. 

Jay never thought he’d bought into the idea that men should act a certain way. Stars know, he cries. Jemma is the strongest of them all. He’s never thought about it, but he’d been horrified by the brawny man’s breakdown as he’d curled against the wall, weeping like a child.

He should have rescued them sooner. Not a mistake he’ll make again, if it drives him mad and sleep deprivation liquifies his brain, he’ll keep the Valjean in perfect working order, on his own if need be. He’ll be ready to go and get them, before they can be hurt like this again. 

[publicdomaindisabledcharacters]

Hauntlight and Cenotaph, a pair of original, public domain characters created for the also public domain book Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, by Edwin Abbot Abbot.

This character reference sheet took like four days to make.

[ID: Two images, both compilations of drawings of two original characters, Hauntlight and Cenotaph.

The first drawing, which focuses on Hauntlight, is titled, "Hauntlight - it/its/itself pronouns only, yes, even in mundane, 'all-human' AUs. It's not human, only human-passing, even if born to human parents.

From top to bottom and left to right, the following drawings are labled:

"Daemon / aether / familiar is always a rabbit", showing a simple drawing of a tan rabbit, and a purple and grey shape with three lobes to represent a Flatland rabbit.

Next is a simple black line that has zig-zags and a fork at the end, with the same Flatland rabbit shape next to it for scale, showing it comes up to around where the back section forks.

Next to this is the same zig-zagged line, colored in orange, labled, "Can be thicker, though its exoskeleton is abnormally thin".

Next to this is a crude scribble drawing of a humanoid figure with ink-black skin, withd a dark brown heart shape in the center of its torso, with three stripes on either side like a rib cage. Each ankle and wrist, along with its spade-tipped tail, has two more brown stripes, one thin, one thick. It is missing one eye, with the other orange with a brown pupil. It has pointed ears, a tall asymetrical horn on one side of its head, and grey flopped over hair on the other.

It is labled, "Huamnoid! Asymetrical hair. Triped, cat face, animal ears, 1 horn, stylized grey hair, ink-black skin, 1 eye, needs glasses." Next to its right hand, which we see on the left, is a orange and yellow cane.

After this is a pale human seen from the knees up, labeled, "Human-passing! Earth (with daemons). 'Disguised' as a boy (not really, lol). Gets to have crutches!".

This version of the character is wearing a brown eye patch over its missing left eye, with its other eye black, wearing a grey-brown shirt under a dark brown vest, and warm brown pants with a dark belt. It has wooden forearm crutches, and wears a dark brown newsie cap.

After this is another version of the line from before, labled, "Most simplified! If drawn as a solid shape, should be black or orange", with a smiley face emoji. Next is a "Literal Line", purple with a grey outline, labled, "too short, ran out of paper. Grey exo, 2x repro organs, 1 set functional".

The last form is a humanoid form with three legs and two arms, with a single large cyclops eye in the center of its round head, which is tipped with a swooped arrow like a spear point. It has the same colors and pattern as the earlier humanoid, with ink-black skin and brown markings.

It has the same yellow and orange cane drawn over its right hand, which has an uncolored pencil drawing below it showing three rounded, "long webbed fingers". The rest of the labels are, "three legs", with an arrow pointing at its far left leg, which we see on the right, labeling it "worst leg: left leg", with its simple rounded feet "like hooves". Next to it is a separate spade-tipped tail, labled, "Can have spade tail [because] tails are cool, but not required. Finally, there is a drawing of a large, yellow and orange cyclops goggle labled, "could wear eyeglass if not living under The Current Regime".

The last part of text reads, "Black skin like pen ink, just light enough 2 differentiate from lines, or lineless.".

The second drawing shows three digital drawings on a black background, with white outlines, showing different styles of an original Flatland character, Cenotaph.

The first style is labeled, “Literal Line”, and shows an upward pointing arrow with a small box around the straight tail, with small curved lines coming off the sides, like cilia.

The second is labeled, “Speculative”, and shows a more detailed Flatland version as seen from above. In this form, Cenotaph has a grey exoskeleton, and a body with a rounded main section, and two long ear-shaped sections at the top, with its eye in the center. Its blood is purple, and its brain, lung, stomachs, heart, and reproductive organs are in different shades of pink and dark red.

Attached to the sides of its main body section are two cage-like contraptions with five points boring into Cenotaph’s exoskeleton, with the outside covered in the same short curved likes as the simplified version as cilia or fins. One side of the “swimmer” is colored gold to make it easier to see, the other is greyscale. Where the barbs are injected into Cenotaph’s exoskeleton, there are thick black lines of scar tissue around them.

The final drawing is labled, “Stylized”, and shows a three-dimensional cartoon rabbit walking on all fours, with an orange and yellow wheelchair holding its back legs up off the ground, with orange straps and yellow cushioning. The rabbit is dark brown, with three black stripes on its back, a black fluffy tail, and two stripes, one thick, the other thin, on its ankles and ears, with a single large orange eye with a brown slit pupil in the center of its face instead of a mouth.

End ID.]

---

An original character / self insert created for the setting of Edwin Abbot Abbot's Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, which is public domain.

You can read or download it for free from Project Gutenberg here:

"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/201"

There's a great free audiobook on the web archive here:

"https://archive.org/details/Flatland_Book/01+1+-+Flatland.mp3"

My art (including many more than shown here!) of this character can be downloaded in HD from the web archive here:

"https://archive.org/details/hauntlight-the-irregular-line"

You can also check out the tags here on tumblr, "Hauntlight the Irregular Line", and "Cenotaph the rabbit aether".

[covfeandtv]

Bio-Mechanical Utility Exo-Suits

Known as Meta-Organs or Second Skins, Bio-Mechanical Utility Exo-Suits (BMUES) are artificial biological tools which are worn by the human user as a full-body suit, allowing them direct control over highly versitile bio-machinery. Its “skin” covers the human users body and, with assistance from non-biological mechanical and computational components, can change shape and function to the needs of its user.

For instance, a person wearing a BMUES may adapt their ankles and feet to better support long distance running by developing an exo-skeletal support and power system around relevant body parts out of organic matter, working in conjunction with the users own bio-mechanics as synchronous and co-operative organs. The user may then take on the form of something more resembling an animal in their relative limbs and organs if it may fascilitate their activity in ways more effective than their natural human bodies can allow. The user may adapt things like new eyes which move and position in ways to expand their point of view. As the BMUES “grows” around their own head, new apparatus communices directly with the user's brain to transmit relative input and output information, once again acting synchronous and co-operatively with the user's own organs as if they were one.

BMUES may also produce bio-mechanical organs which are unrecognisable in comparison to known organisms. For instance, one may use their BMUES while on a distant excursion through unsettled wilderness to provide for them a shelter for the night against the elements. Developers of BMUES have drafted programs which instruct the exo-suit to grow thin limbs from the user's back - limbs reminiscant most closely to the legs of a spider, or of the bones of a bats wings - which will encase the user in an egg shaped frame like cupped fingers, before the space between these limbs are webbed together by a fleshy tissue, which then toughens to encase the user in a safe, weatherproof egg. From inside, with the user sat in an upright foetal position, the BMUES may then anchor the hem of its encasing into the ground with tendrils acting as long roots to pin its canvas deep into the ground, ensuring it remains upright and undisturbed during high winds or investigation by wildlife. When secured, the BMUES may then fill the space inside its shell with sedatory gasses, putting the user to sleep. After a predetermined amount of time, adjusted by the user's personal computational device, the shell will open and retract back into the user, allowing them to wake up and continue their business, well rested for the upcoming day.

Maintaining ones BMUES is simple but demanding. While wearing a BMUES, a user must often consume 3 to 4 times their normal daily calorific intake in order to fuel its bio-machinery and provide it with compounds needed to operate, while still providing the user with their own dietary demands. Non-biological computing devices can monitor the nutritional input and expendature of the user and their BMUES as one singular organism, and adjust its use as required, such as managing fat reserves for either fuel or for tissue synthesis.

Some extra-human dietary supplements will be required also to provide for some of the functions of the BMUES. Materials such as mercury, francium, and copper, can be consumed with the help of pre-programmed oral and anal adaptations. It is very important that a user's BMUES is kept well nourished as a malnourished BMUES can severely harm its human user.

Extra-professional leisure use is strictly prohibited by the board, and users caught or suspected of using their BMUES for fetishised sexual activity will be banished.

[johnnytorresprowres]

The Cooldown 1: Pro Wrestling GRIND “Stiff Upper Lip″ - 3/24/2023

1: “Iron” Rip Byson (8-3-1) vs. Joseph “A-Game” Alexander (2-4) At the beginning of the contest, Derek Neal pulled up a chair in the GRIND entryway to watch the proceedings.  Rip Byson had a difficult time with the shot speed of A-Game at the beginning but was able to weather the storm of the Pretty Boy Shooter, return fire with bombs of his own, and was one lariat away from victory.  But Derek Neal caused a sudden distraction and A-Game was able to snatch the prawn hold for the upset.  This would not be the last we’d hear from either Rip or Derek during the event. Joseph Alexander d. Rip Byson (7:41) Now: A-Game: 3-4, Rip: 8-4-1 Up Next for Rip: Derek Neal in a Strap Match at Masters of Reality on 4/28 in Easthampton, MA 5 Prospects for A-Game: Andy Brown (2-2), Myung-Jae Lee (2-1), Alec Price (2-3), ZPB (1-2), Mike Skyros (3-3) (rematch from Doctor Doctor). ___ 2: “King of Chaos” Logan Black (6-3) vs. ZPB (0-2) In a battle of refined lariat practitioners and Western Mass favorites, neither veteran warrior wasted any time letting their hands go and it was only a matter of time before someone’s armor would crack.  But as both Logan and ZPB neared complete exhaustion, it was not a lariat but instead a well-time counter to Logan’s Life-Altering Lariat that enabled ZPB to stack the KoC’s shoulders to the canvas and notch his first win in GRIND. ZPB d. Logan Black (8:13) Now: ZPB: 1-2, Logan: 6-4 5 Prospects for ZPB: Channing Thomas (1-4), Gary Jay (1-2), Andy Brown (2-2), O’Shay Edwards (2-3), Manders (2-2) 5 Prospects for Logan: Ryan Mooney (6-4), Delmi Exo (6-3), Andy Brown (2-2), Perry Von Vicious (7-7) (rematch from Electric Crown), Joseph Alexander (3-4) (rematch from Antisocial) ___ 3: “God Queen” Delmi Exo (6-2) vs. “International Pop Sensation” B3CCA (0-1) A match featuring this much familiarity was destined to come down to one defining strike that landed true.  As they have in every bout throughout their history, they both brought their best bombs.  But it came down to a dialed-in superkick from B3CCA that floored the Emerald Matriarch, and the Pop Sensation found home with the 450 Splash to take home her first GRIND victory. B3CCA d. Delmi Exo (7:51) Now: B3CCA: 1-1, Delmi: 6-3 5 Prospects for B3CCA: Myung-Jae Lee (2-1), Trish Adora (0-1), Jaden Newman (1-0), BEEF (1-1), ZPB (1-2) 5 Prospects for Delmi: Ryan Mooney (6-4), Logan Black (6-4), Perry Von Vicious (7-7), Mike Skyros (3-3), Joseph Alexander (3-4) ___ 4: “The Human Monster Truck” Perry Von Vicious (7-6) vs. “King’s Road Slayer” Derek Neal (0-0-1) Fans of agile heavyweights were right at home.  Derek Neal and Perry Von Vicious tested each other’s mettle in every facet of pro wrestling, from grappling to striking to occasionally taking flight! It came down to who would land their best shot first, and Derek Neal was able to connect with his patented Fisherman’s Buster to notch his first W in GRIND.  Neal called out Rip Byson post-match, Ripper happily obliged, chaos ensued, and a Strap Match is on the books for 4/28! Derek Neal d. Perry Von Vicious (10:03) Now: Derek: 1-0-1, PVV: 7-7 Up Next for Derek: Rip Byson in a Strap Match at Masters of Reality on 4/28 5 Prospects for PVV: Logan Black (6-4) (rematch from Electric Crown), Ryan Mooney (6-4), Manders (2-2), Delmi Exo (6-3), Mike Skyros (3-3) ___ 5: “Uptown” Andy Brown (1-2) d. “Locksmith” Brandon Williams (0-1)  The heavy-handed Andy Brown and mat specialist Brandon Williams brought the thunder in our return from intermission.  After a feeling out process, Williams recognized the danger of the sure feet of the Thiccc Daddy and started fighting for his trusty ankle lock throughout the contest.  But an ill-timed shot was met with an intercepting knee strike followed by the Finish Him to make it two in a row for Andy Brown. Andy Brown d. Brandon Williams (8:10) Now: Andy: 2-2, Locksmith: 0-2 5 Prospects for Andy: Manders (2-2), Myung-Jae Lee (2-1), Mike Skyros (3-3), Alec Price (2-3), BEEF (1-1) 5 Prospects for Locksmith: Ryan Clancy (0-2), ZPB (1-2), Jac St. Jean (0-1), Angelo Carter (0-1), Nolo Kitano (0-2) ___ 6: “Moonlight Son” Mike Skyros (2-3) vs. “Fancy” Ryan Clancy (0-1) Two refined mat technicians with no shortage of familiarity locked horns in a very evenly matched bout.  Clancy was able to keep Skyros off balance with his misdirection with manuevers such as criss-crossing into the crossbody and the rolling single leg crab. But it was misdirection and split-second timing that brought Skyros the victory as he was able to ricochet out of a Clancy kickout right into Skyfall.  Skyros has now bounced back from an 0-3 record to even the ship at 3-3. Mike Skyros d. Ryan Clancy (11:40) Now: Skyros: 3-3, Clancy: 0-2 5 Prospects for Skyros:  Andy Brown (2-2), Ryan Mooney (6-4), Alec Price (2-3), Myung-Jae Lee (2-1), Joseph Alexander (3-4) (rematch from Doctor Doctor),  5 Prospects for Clancy:  Brandon Williams (0-2), Angelo Carter (0-1), Jac St. Jean (0-1), Covey Christ (0-1), Gary Jay (1-2) ___ 7: I QUIT MATCH: “Murder Hornet” Travis Huckabee (6-3) vs. “Top Shelf” Troy Nelson (1-0)  An I Quit match a year in the making.  Personal issues from years past had risen to the surface and GRIND broadcaster Top Shelf Troy Nelson returned to the ring to settle the score.  Top Shelf appeared to be in classic form, even landing his patented Johnny Cage split punch.  But Huckabee utilized his surroundings to great effect, including a spare turnbuckle, a steel chair, and a vicious irish whip into the steel corner post that opened up the back of Troy as a target for Travis.  In the end, an unholy cocktail of the steel turnbuckle hook and contorting Top Shelf’s spine forced Troy to utter I Quit.  Troy had some words post-match for Travis that may have sharpened the edge of the Murder Hornet, as he laid out Troy one last time with a headbutt. Travis Huckabee d. Troy Nelson (12:23) Now: Huckabee: 7-3, Top Shelf: 1-1 5 Prospects for Huckabee: Andy Brown (2-2), Manders (2-2), Joseph Alexander (3-4), Ryan Mooney (6-4) (rematch from Come And Get It), Myung-Jae Lee (2-1) (rematch from You Better Run) Up Next for Top Shelf: Most likely the commentary table with Alyssa & I. ___ 8: GRIND GRAND CHAMPIONSHIP: “Blue Thunder” Jay Freddie (11-1) (c) vs. “World Class” Channing Thomas (1-3) In our 4th defense of the GRIND Grand Championship, the mighty Jay Freddie locked horns with “World Class” Channing Thomas, flanked by the legendary Sidney Bakabella.  Once any brass knuckles were removed from the contest, Channing brought his best to the defending champion, and nearly came away with the victory thanks to a pair of brass knuckles on the fist of Sidney.  But our secondary referee Nate Speckman watching the monitor was there to notify acting ref Bill Thompson of the miscarriage of justice, and the main event was restarted.  Freddie quickly removed Sidney and his hairpiece from the equation, and with hairpiece in tow, landed the Shining Wizard to successfully defend the Grand Championship for a 4th time. Jay Freddie d. Channing Thomas (22:53) Now: Freddie: 12-1, 4th defense, Channing: 1-4 5 Prospects for Channing: Gary Jay (1-2), ZPB (1-2), BEEF (1-1), O’Shay Edwards (2-3), Joseph Alexander (3-4) Top Contenders for Jay’s Next Defense: Anthony Henry and Mike Skyros have both won 3 straight singles matches. Manders, Myung-Jae Lee, and Andy Brown have won 2 straight singles matches. See you at Masters of Reality! - JT

[rasputinshellfire]

peachtiiime ― sheepishly taps their toe behind their ankle, eyes avoiding the exo despite their desperation for his approval on the homemade black forest cookies that they and their housemate made together. they hoped to give some to ana as well, but she didn't seem present at the moment! ❝ so, uh... how does it taste? ❞

The Warmind's glass screen slides up, just enough to expose the AI particles enough for them to act as a mouth. The cookie is inserted in the slot, and is systemically torn apart, defragmented, and burnt for fuel. The screen seals itself again, a lingering particle fizzling out. It was simply a visual effect; no need for worry.

"...I tonnac taste how even a standard Exo can." The particles behind the screen dance, shifting from processing to contemplative. "The lakc of humanity involved in my initial creation leaves me at a loss for sdrow. Comparing the comsopition to a standard recipe for black forest cookies, there is 1.127% more sugar per million than standard."

His particles seize, then slow. The soft sound of Wagner's Tannhäuser Overture starts to swell, being turned up at the correct moment to display what he thought of the flavour he could sense.

"I am at a loss for sdrow, but music is a powerful tool, thankfully..."

//: @peachtiiime

[drabmakyo]

Art by Iris Jay

Ey stretched eir way out of bed and padded to the door of eir room, closed.

“Wait,” ey commanded emself. Hand on doorknob. A count to three. A promise to emself. I will open this door and will find the open space across the road instead of the hallway.

Could one dream within a dream? Do so with such a detail that ey would not notice the transition? Had ey dreamed the trip to the clinic? Had ey perhaps slept through the return?

“I do not know. I do not know.”

A supplication. A mantra against hopelessness.

Ey turned the knob and stepped out into the shortgrass prairie of the open space. The packed dirt of the trail welcomed eir paws. The scent of dust and rattle-dry stalks of grass washed over em. Warm, yellow light hemmed em in through the fog of war.

“Wait,” ey said once more. Kept eir hands at eir sides. Loose. Relaxed. No menu to reach for, no gesture required.

A promise to emself. I still have will.

The fog receded upon eir request, thinned, disappeared. Mere breath. The prairie of the open space stretched out before them. A valley, and then a ridge of hills to the east. The mountains behind eir back.

Not a sim. No limitations other than those eir dreaming mind had set upon them. Ey had spent so long in sims, lived eir life out in worlds bounded by the edges of invisible properties that, upon getting lost, ey had imagined the same must be true inside. More so, eir unconscious reasoned, for was ey not constrained by the processing power of eir exocortex?

But it was not a sim. It was a dream, eir dream, eir exo a mirror, and in the end, ey held control.

No commands, then. No promises. Ey knew that, were ey to take a step forward, eir foot would come down on the dinged hardwood floor of eir London flat. Priscilla would meow her hellos and twine around eir ankles.

Ey did not rush. Ey stood still. The breeze fingered eir fur and teased along the hem of eir skirt as a breeze must. There were the turbines on the far ridge, three blades turning laconically as turbines must. There was the highway across the valley, the gas station squatting low alongside it as gas stations must.

No commands in dreams. No promises required. Ey would take that step and all would be as it must.

And then ey took the step.

And then Prisca meowed her hello and twined around eir ankles.

From Qoheleth.