#PLEASE NOTE IT WILL TOUCH ON SOME SENSITIVE TOPICS THAT I CANNOT NAME AS IT WILL AFFECT HOW PEOPLE WILL FIGURE OUT THE STORY LINE

[r0achezz]

GUESS WHO JUST LAUNCHED THEIR ARG

Find it here! It will also have a YouTube where all the important videos are!! (I’ll be making it soon :3)

other than that, on tumblr, you’ll be able to ask the characters things/interact with them!

*NOTE: EVERYTHING THERE WILL BE FROM THE MAIN CHARACTERS PERSPECTIVE

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VIII: Bigger Than The Whole Sky

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: As you try everything in your power to bring Neteyam back to life, he gets everything he's ever wanted in Eywa.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 11,5k words

Warnings/notes (please proceed with caution, some of the topics might be sensitive/triggering): angst (lots and lots of angst), death, blood, violence, cursing, mildly suggestive content (18+, minors DNI), spoilers (!!) for ATWOW

A/N: i am sick and i am so so so sorry - IT HAD TO BE DONE OK?!

This was supposed to be the last chapter, but i quickly realised as i was writing it that there was no way I could reasonably end the series the way I wanted to this way - so two chapters it is. This took everything out of me honestly, but i put so much love and effort into this series, into the laws and the lore I have created, and I hope it comes across this way. I have spent an obscene amount of time trying to piece it all together, make everything consistent within the story I have already told, and I am proud of the way everything is shaping up. Now, this chapter WILL HURT and I am so sorry, but I PROMISE you all you will not be disappointed with the ending, and I will give EVERY character the ending they deserve, bc i love them all so much and they deserve to be happy.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling but i'd love to chat more about it and elaborate my thoughts and reasonings so let's chat in the replies/asks baby boys, gals and non-binary pals <3 ILY all so much xoxoxo

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

No words appear before me in the aftermath Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness 'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

“Where are your sisters?”

Jake’s voice registered weakly in your ears, just like the muffled cries around you and Neytiri’s haunting wails. The tears that fell from your eyes were dried up and gone in the wind, like the rest of your being was. Empty. Soulless. Dead. 

“YOUR SISTERS, WHERE ARE THEY?” 

“I don’t know.”

Lo’ak’s voice sounded tired. So tired. You were all tired. Tired of this world, tired of the pain that never ever seemed to cease, that never ever wanted to relent. Your blurred dizzy vision moved to your hands, red and sticky, coated in Neteyam’s warm blood. You looked at Lo’ak, whose hands looked similar to yours. Fitting, you thought. His blood was on your hands. You were responsible for this. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get the fuck out of the ship, like you should have done. You made him come. And because of you, your dad was dead, your mate was dead. Your dad was a trained soldier, one of the best that has ever existed. Why in Eywa’s name would you ever think he needed you? If you hadn’t been there, they would have probably escaped the ship easier, quicker, and you would be all finishing the rest of the humans instead of trying to figure out how you were ever going to survive this, how you were supposed to exist in a world Neteyam didn’t, how you were going to make quick work of your damned, void soul.

Your mind went to the book, the book that you took with you to this new life as you carried it in your own, the book whose every memorable quote reminded you of him, that felt so appropriate now, all the words were swimming scattered through every crevice of your being. 

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

“Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!”

“I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!”

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

“Nelly, I am Heathcliff - he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, any more then I am always a pleasure to myself - but, as my own being.”

It truly seems you couldn’t stop ruining everything you touched. It seems no matter what body your mind was in, no matter whether in the forest or at sea, no matter a child or a full grown adult, no matter broken or seemingly healed, everything you touched just turned to ashes. Everything, everyone that dared to get close to you was bound to be lost in the abyss forever. 

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

“They’re on the ship. They are tied up on the ship.”

“Yeah, they’re at the moon pool. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

All the voices were distant, broken, like a messed up radio, you could only pick up words, only sounds that your brain was working hard to try to piece together. You didn’t know who was speaking, your every sense focused on Neteyam, on his eyes, still open, that will haunt you forever, for the rest of your measly, torn-apart life.  

You noticed Jake come to you, taking you by the shoulders and shaking you. He did the same to Neytiri.

“Kid, come on. Let’s go. We gotta go.” When he saw how unresponsive you are, that your eyes barely looked more alive than your mate’s, that all you could muster was a barely visible shake of head, he let you go. 

“Listen to me, listen to me.” He could barely speak, could be barely heard over the stirring, painful cries continuously escaping Neytiri’s mouth, yet another thing you will never be able to forget as long as you live. You have never heard anything like it, never thought it was possible for such sounds to escape another being, never thought a wordless evocation could say so much, could say everything words couldn’t. 

“They have our daughters. They have our daughters. I need you with me. And I need you to be strong. Right now, strong heart. Strong heart.”

Silence enveloped the space around you, just like the darkness that came with the eclipse, and you were happy, happy for your mind to be able to focus on what it needed to, what it had to. 

“Let’s go get our daughters.”

“You stay with your brother.”

“No, dad, I want to go with you.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“No, dad…”

Neteyam woke up dazed, lavender haze surrounding him until his vision finally focused, and he was able to see the periwinkle glow for what it was: bioluminescent flora. Different than the one he’s been forced to get used to the past few months - better. Because this beauty all around him was in a place he knew and loved so much, that will always be his favourite place in the world. Your clearing, back in the Omatikaya forest. How was he here? He couldn’t remember what happened, couldn’t remember a single thing from before a few seconds ago, but he took a moment to revel in being back home. He has not said it to anyone, not even you, but as much as he has enjoyed the reef, enjoyed the peace that came with being far away from humans, within the Metkayina clan, Neteyam deeply missed his home. He’s wanted to speak about it to you, but couldn’t - not when he knew how much you have also been struggling with it, how much you also missed this place, not when there was nothing to be done anyway. They couldn’t come back, as much was clear, while the humans hunted them so ferociously, while the clan could suffer as a consequence. 

This place was slightly different than he remembered, Neteyam mused, and he realises it is because he has very rarely seen it after eclipse. You both usually came here during the day, as dangers hid in the shadow of the night, dangers he wouldn’t be willing to risk encountering, not with you around. He slowly, deliberately, enjoying every step, every sensation, every sound, made his way to the middle of the clearing, where the river trickled serenely, and he couldn’t help kneel next to it and put one hand in the water, palm against the current. He stood like this for a while, reminiscing about all the memories you have made here and how happy he was to be able to feel this again. 

“Neteyam, wait uuup!”

“You have to be faster than that if you ever want to catch me!” 

“I don’t want to catch you, I just want to catch up with you!” 

Neteyam laughed at the tiny 8 year old girl with bouncing hair and starry eyes, ears pushed back and tails swinging rapidly from one side to the other in happiness at seeing her running towards him, a small pout on her pink lips and an annoyed figure on her face. The little boy kneeled to the ground and opened his much bigger arms wide and she ran straight into him, almost knocking him over at the force of the impact. He wondered if it hurt her. He was always worried about her, she was so so small. 

“You caught me.” 

“Woah! What is this place?” 

Neteyam took in your awed, amazed expression and turned around slowly and was speechless at the beauty of this place, this little corner of Pandora that seemed untouched, that seemed no one else has ever set foot in it before you two. 

“It’s heaven!!” 

“What’s heaven?” You spoke English most of the time, although you knew Na’vi as well, but a lot of the words you spoke were new to Neteyam - he was a fast learner, though, and he loved it when you explained anything to him. It was better than when the scientists did, except auntie Jo. He loved auntie Jo. 

“It’s where good people go after they die, at least that’s what mummy said about Earth people.” 

Neteyam shook his head minutely. “No, people go with Eywa after they die! Everybody knows that!”

“So, maybe Heaven is where Eywa is?”

You both thought about it a long time, focused expressions on both your faces.

“That sounds about right! But why is it here?” 

You thought about that for a while too. “I think Heaven looks different for different people. But this can be our heaven! Yours and mine!” 

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

Neteyam liked the idea of that, that there would be a place for only you two, for the rest of time. 

Neteyam’s attention shifted back from his own little world into this one, although it barely felt like anything changed, as two little kids ran straight into the clearing, a little human girl chasing a blue boy. Why was his mind making him see the same thing twice, why was this all so real, it was like it was taken from his imagination and placed into the physical world? 

“Kalin, wait uuup! I’m smaller than you and I have tiny legs! You are being mean, brother!” 

Kalin? Brother? 

“Tsy, you’re the one that asked me to not go easy on you.”

“Well, that’s what mother told me to say. She said it’s called feminism.” 

“What’s feminism?”

“What do I know? I’m six.”

Neteyam was taken aback at the interaction, and at these kids that he has never seen before, whose names didn’t sound familiar to him at all. And the little girl… there’s no other human children on Pandora, haven’t been since… well, you. Could they be new children the humans brought with them? But the scientists always said the reason Spider wasn’t sent back was because you cannot put babies in the contraptions humans used to travel. He sat there, unmoving, just taking it all in, studying these two children carefully, with intense curiosity. His eyes widened and mouth opened before he even realised, as he observed the girl more carefully. She was human… but she had white freckles, freckles like all the Na’vi did… and she had a queue. A queue… 

Her hair was dark and thick, braided and ornate, with beads and feathers, and her eyes, they were yellow, like his, but the shape, just like the shape of her nose and mouth… she looked like you. The boy was taller and blue, like he was, but his eyes and nose looked… human, nothing like a Na’vi, and Neteyam was reminded a lot of Kiri, how she looked even more human than an Avatar. As he was laughing at his little sister, Neteyam saw the boy… Kalin, was it? He didn’t have fangs, either. His hair was long and wavy, a different colour than the rest of the Na’vi had, and he was wearing it down, flowing gently and glowing in the sun. 

Neteyam’s heart was about to explode out of his chest as the realisation slowly hit him, and as he shifted a little towards them, struggling to keep himself steady on the ground, the sounds his body made attracted the attention of the two little beings in front of him, who both gasped loudly and smiled widely at his presence. 

“DADDY! YOU’RE HERE!” 

They both ran with all their might straight into his body, which - at the contact as well as the overwhelming feelings that enveloped him whole - fell straight to the ground with a loud thud, and which Kalin and Tsyeym started attacking mercilessly with tickles and kisses. 

“WE MISSED YOU, DAD!” 

No. No. No. 

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the end. 

You felt like you just woke up, like your brain rewired and restarted. What the fuck were you doing? You were a medic. You were a scientist. You had a fucking medical bag full of supplies and equipment and so much shit you worked so hard to learn to use, to bring here with you. And you were just going to let your mate die? Without even trying? No. No fucking way. 

You got up from the ground, like the ground burned you, and ran to Neyn, where you picked up the large bag that always resided on her, and moved it next to Neteyam’s body. You pushed away the tears forming silently at his unmoving form, trying not to dwell on it too much. He’s just sleeping. He’s just sleeping. Your mate, your best friend and the love of your life, the man you hoped would be the father of your children one day, he’s just sleeping. 

You searched the bag, hurried and crazed, and found the strips of gauze you were looking for. You removed them from their sterile wrappings and screamed at Tsireya, who was looking at you panicked, not understand what was happening. You cringed a little at her face, a crying, blubbering mess, and tried to push the thoughts out of your mind. He’s just sleeping. Just sleeping. You looked around for Lo’ak, or Jake, or anyone else, but they were all gone. Where was Lo’ak? Where did he go again? You needed him and he was gone. You growled loudly, but didn’t say anything else on the subject, turning your full attention to Tsireya.

“I need you to help me keep him upright for a while, I need to bandage his wounds. Can you do that?” 

She was confused, the emotion very obvious on her face. “Y-yes, I can, but… but… he’s d-“ 

“Tsireya.” You hissed lowly, fangs barring menacingly. He was sleeping. Just sleeping. “Can you help me or not?” 

She nodded furiously, and you knew she would help in any way she could. She was a good kid. She’ll make a good Tsa’hik one day. 

“Alright.” You helped her bring his torso up, and you waited for her to rearrange so that she could keep his much larger body in the position you needed her to. You grabbed the large bandage and rolled it around his body, tying it as tightly as you possibly could, cursing under your breath that no one else was here, knowing that Jake could have tightened it better than you could. You needed as much pressure as possible, needed the wounds to stop bleeding. You were trying not to think about how much blood he’s already lost. All that mattered at the moment was that his heart started beating again. You were the same blood type, you could give him blood, but all the blood in the world wouldn’t do anything without a heart to pump it through his body. 

Once you were happy with how wrapped his body was, you motioned for Tsireya to lay him back on the ground, which she did, slowly and carefully - which you appreciated. You straddled him, knees on either side of his abdomen and placed the heel of your hand over his chest. You placed your other hand on top of the first, and intertwined your fingers together, starting to pump his chest rhythmically, putting all your effort into it. 

“Tsireya, I need you to look in the bag and find a red little case, like a basket. When you find it, bring it to me, fast.” 

She took off immediately, ready and committed to do whatever it took to help. You continued the CPR, not stopping for a second, mind running a thousand miles a minute. The fight or flight finally overtook you, and you knew now you would do whatever it took to bring Neteyam back. Because you had to. Because there was no other option. Because you have both suffered enough. You deserved a soft epilogue. You were both good people, and you suffered enough.* 

“Here it is!” She brought it next to you, flinging it from side to side in front of your face.

“Good. Now I need you to open it, you see that string? That’s called a zipper. Just pull on it and it should come apart in two.” 

Once she did that, you saw the defibrillator come into view and you sighed a small breath of relief. You were exhausted, sweat dripping from your forehead and onto Neteyam’s chest. 

“I need you to put this on him. I will walk you through it, I will tell you what to do, but you have to do it, do you understand me?” 

She looked uncomfortably from side to side. “B-but, I.. you should do it.” 

“I can’t do it, Tsireya. Please. I know this it strange to you, and new and unnatural, and I am sorry, but I need to do this. We need to do this.” You let out a pained cry. “I need to save him. I can save him.” 

Your voice rang in the forest all around him, surrounding the meadow and filling his ears, hauntingly beautiful and serene, and he was overwhelmed at the voice, that he missed so much, that he felt like he was just hearing for the first time. 

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

Neteyam struggled to understand what was going on, but, as he was being tackled by the children that just called him dad, the children that bore a striking resemblance to both you and him, he allowed himself to be pushed to the ground and he felt his heart swell to twice its size at the feeling of warmth that enveloped him. As he tightened his arms around the little boy and girl, he realises he knows them. He knows them, has known them every moment of their lives. He has loved them every moment of their lives. 

“Parultsyìp! (Children!)” 

Memories flooded his being, of your beautiful body, now a bit bigger than he remembered, caressing your pregnant belly tenderly as he placed small kisses all over it; you laughed loudly as the action made you ticklish, and brought your hand to the back of his head, patting him gently, playing with his braids. Memories of Kalin being born, a strange sight, seeing the blue baby come out of his very human mate, but the happiest day of his life. Memories of Mo’at telling you you’re pregnant again, and the shock that overtook you both, then the immense joy that followed seeing his baby girl for the first time, so tiny and absolutely perfect. The first communion with Eywa, their pocket-sized queues connecting to the Spirit Tree, the whole tribe and the scientists, all there to celebrate the Olo’eyktan and Tsakarem, as well as their new happy family. Putting them to sleep every night, neither of them able to slumber without hearing your voice singing softly in their ears. The years passing, but not the passion and love you shared, still obsessed with each other, still going at it like crazed teenagers, like you did ever since you first mated. Images of Lo’ak being the best uncle, and Neteyam having panic attacks every time he would twist and throw his kids in the air like they were helicopter propellers. His mother and father both holding each one of the kids in their arms, cooing and rocking them softly, crying when Tsy wrapped her tiny hand around his mother’s pinky. Kalin’s first word, sweets, since that was what you always called him, and Tsyeym’s, fuck, curtesy of Lo’ak and Spider’s babysitting, which Neteyam prohibited afterwards, and although you tried to hide it - you found it a little funny. All of these things and more, 8 years of memories, of love and care, of adoration and awe, all overwhelming, all pulsating through Neteyam’s mind like electrical shocks, waking him like from a nightmare. 

“Neteyam?”

When his amber eyes reopened, the kids were gone, much to his dismay, but he was comforted by the sight of you, his beautiful love, his beautiful light. 

“Atan!” 

Your human face looked scared, and confused, and sad, but Neteyam couldn’t care less, not when he felt like he hasn’t seen you in a lifetime, not when the only thing he wanted to do was kiss you, like Dean kissed Rory in that episode of Gilmore Girls you loved. He didn’t think twice about your size, about how in your human body, you were as tall as a Na’vi girl, how even in the forest, your face was unencumbered by the weight of your oxygen mask. He didn’t think of anything, because none of it matter outside of you, outside of you and him and the love you shared. 

He ran to you, watching as every step made the ground glow in lustrous pastel colours and he smiled as he picked you up by your thighs and lifted you, pushing you to the tree your body was close to until your back hit it and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Your hands found his face and hair, like they always did, and your body melted into him, slowly relaxing, giving him a dazzling smile that took his breath away. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan.”

The kiss was everything he needed and more, more than he could ever dream in this life and the next and everything that came after. It was hot and needy and desperate, and you were clinging to each other like you never wanted to let go, and he’d be damned if he ever would again. 

Tsireya took a look at your disheveled figure, putting all your effort into your chest compressions, and she nodded, determination overtaking any other emotion on her face. 

“Tell me what to do.”

“Alright. In the pouch, there is the little device with a human drawn on it. You see that blue lever, just pull on it, until the cover comes off.”

She did as she was told, and let out an excited yelp when what you told her would happen, happened. 

“I did it!” 

“That’s great, Tsireya. Now, inside, there are two pieces of… paper… yes, that’s right. I need you to look at the drawing on them, and remove the yellow film that is on them, and put the white strips on Neteyam’s body, exactly how it shows you in the picture. Make sure you press them down properly.” 

She manoeuvred around you so she can do what you told her, and eventually, the pads were on. It was up to the little contraption to do its job now. Neteyam’s life was in its tiny, inanimate hands. 

“Neteyam, stop.” 

“No, Atan, I can’t stop. I need you, I need you so badly.”

Neteyam felt you push him away, the same expression as earlier marring your beautiful face. You looked…scared.

“Neteyam, why are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck… if you’re here… that means… Shit.” 

Neteyam watched as you removed yourself from him, and no matter how disappointed, he helped put you back onto the ground. You put distance in between you, which Neteyam dreaded, and you were pacing around, seemingly out of your mind with worry.

“No… it can’t be.”

“What is going on, Atan? You’re scaring me.” 

“Neteyam, you can’t be here. You have to go. What is the last thing you remember?” 

Neteyam thought long and hard about it. Nothing… he couldn’t remember anything. He can remember moving to the Metkayina, and learning to swim. He can remember the beauty of the reef, he can remember you, hair blowing gracefully in the humid wind as you took to the new culture, he can remember a magical celebration where people danced and sang. That’s about it. 

“I can’t remember much… I just woke up here, back home. I walked through the clearing and saw our kids. Our kids, Atan! They are so beautiful, they look so much like both of us. They look exactly like what I imagined them to ever since I fell in love with you! I can’t believe I’m back home, I can’t believe this is happening. I thought I’d never be back here.” 

Your mouth fell slightly agape, looking somewhere behind him, and you looked like you were trying to process everything he was telling you. 

“…Kids… Our kids… you saw our kids?” 

“Yes, they were right there, laughing and chasing each other, just like we used to do, in the exact place we used to. It’s everything I have ever wanted, ever since the moment I knew how deeply and irrevocably in love with you I was, all I wanted was this. That moment right there, this moment right here.” 

Neteyam saw your lips quiver, trembling trying to keep in the tears that were threatening to spill out. Your brows were furrowed and you were looking at him in disbelief, like nothing about this made sense, like what he was feeling was wrong, and Neteyam couldn’t understand. He was finally home. You finally guided him home. 

You closed the distance in between you and pulled him into a hug, a tight hug that he immediately reciprocated. 

“I love you so much. I have missed you so much.” You were sobbing in his chest now, hot tears trickling down his torso. 

“But I need you to try to remember. You have to remember.”

Neteyam’s words caught in his throat as a loud boom almost knocked him to the ground, shaking the whole clearing, and he found it hard keeping upright. His first instinct, as it always was, was to shield you, so he grabbed your body in his and pushed you to the ground, towering over you with his body. 

“What is happening?” 

The world was losing focus around him, the edges of the clearing blurred and disappearing slowly from view. 

“Atan, what is happening?” 

You looked at him, eyes wide and he saw you shaking your head almost imperceptibly, biting on the inside of your lip aggressively. He brought his hand up to your face and caressed your lips softly with his thumb, tugging a little so you stopped hurting yourself. 

“What is it, Atan? What can’t you tell me? Why am I here? Why are we here?” 

“I’m here for you, Neteyam. You have to remember.” 

Neteyam was trying so hard, thinking so hard whilst the world was seemingly falling apart around him, around you both, and the only thing he could think of, the only think he knew, is that he didn’t want to leave you. He didn’t want to leave the meadow, or the kids. He was home, finally. He could finally live. 

“I will try to remember, Atan. I am not leaving you, I am not going anywhere. I will protect you and the kids. We’re never going to be apart again.”

You seemed pained at his words, but said no more as another quake shook the ground you were laying on. 

You watched as Neteyam’s body jerked violently for a second time, with no response. The deep fear and anguish, the dark thoughts were slowly creeping up on you again, as your mate wasn’t coming back to life, and it seemed again all efforts, all your hope was easily being dragged out to sea, out into the abyss, along your sanity and future.

“Please, please fuck! Please, just work. Goddamn it!” 

You continued CPR in between shocks, praying, begging Eywa for a chance. Please, Great Mother, you can’t do this. I’m begging you, please. Please! 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

As you felt his heart beating in his chest again and heard it on the AED, you felt as if yours started beating again too. You stopped the chest compressions and moved your head close to his face, trying to see if he was breathing. A soft, subtle puff of air was being released from his nose every couple of seconds and you saw in shock as wet drips were falling on his beautiful, ethereal face.

Acid rain leaking from your eyes, pouring like tropical storms, never-ending, all-powerful and you couldn’t stop, couldn’t make them stop. You were wailing, crying harder than you ever have before as the man you loved came back from the dead, as his heartbeat was weak, but nevertheless present on your fingertips that were pushing against his throat, as your other hand went to his cheek that you caressed, trying to figure out if this was real, if he was really back. Your wails were so loud they were hurting your ears, but you couldn’t stop, you couldn’t make yourself stop, all you felt was enormous, earth-shattering grief, all the sorrow you suppressed flooding all of your senses, clouding your mind, pushing anything else down, melting it into the ground. The ache was coursing through your veins, poisoning every cell in your body until the was nothing left but this - it. You should be happy, you should be relieved, but as you watched the man you have known, you have loved every single day of your unpredictable, crazy, mercurial life, you realised how close he was, how close you were to losing him forever, to losing everything that kept you sane, kept you going. 

You saw it all: washing his dead body, preparing him for the funeral, removing his bracelet, the bracelet that signified your love and your bond, the family dressed in mournful garbs, having to let him go, giving his body to the ocean, having to sing his songcord one last time, never being able to see him again, only having to settle for scraps, for a memory, or for a vision at the Spirit Tree. You saw yourself, a widow forever, never being able to move on, never being able to be happy, ever again, because he was happiness, and he was everything and he was gone. You saw your future - never having children, because if they weren’t his - what was the point? You saw his family, ruptured and torn apart by the loss of their son, their sibling, their hero, their best friend. You saw Lo’ak, carrying the guilt for the rest of his life, rebelling against his father, going on a dark path it was near impossible to turn him back from. You saw Neytiri, broken after another loss, the worst loss a mother could ever feel, never fully recovering, never truly being the same again. You saw Tuk and Kiri withdraw into themselves, the light they carried with them everywhere they went snuffed out at the calamitous loss. You saw it all and it killed you, it gutted you from the inside out. 

But he was here. He was still here. Everything you saw, every nightmare your mind made you watch, laughing as you suffered, revelling in it, like it always was, it was just that - a nightmare. A parallel universe you never had to live through. Because he was here. He’s just sleeping. 

You knew you didn’t have time to waste. You had to go back, you had to warm his body and clean his wounds, you had to remove any scraps the bullet left behind in his organs, you had to give him blood. There was still too much to do, and he needed you. You didn’t have time to fully fall apart just yet. 

“Tsireya, we need to take him back to the village, we need to go, now. Just help me put him on Neyn, please.”

“I…I’ve never been on an Ikran before.” 

If you weren’t so dazed and out-of-your-mind, you would have scoffed at that. 

“Oh, I think you have, too.”

You didn’t have to look at the Metkayina girl to feel the embarrassment in her cheeks and her tail swish vigorously. 

“I’ll make sure your parents know this is the first time, ok? I’m a great liar. Just please get on.”

Between the two of you, you managed to place Neteyam’s still unmoving, still unconscious body on your beautiful banshee, and you all got on, trying your best to cage his body so that he wouldn’t fall. 

“I’ll tell her to go slow and steady, just hold on to her kuru (queue) and you’ll be fine.”

Ok, sweet girl. We have to get back. Please go gently. Hurry.

Neyn trilled in your direction, and you can tell she was worried and stressed through the bond. You didn’t know if it was just a mirror of your own mind or if she was feeling it too. Neyn loved Neteyam. He was always nice to her, and considerate and attentive. Neyn also loved Seze, and the thought of Seze being without her chosen Na’vi, being alone, the rest of her life, hurt Neyn. It hurt you, too. It hurt you so badly, in fact, your body was convulsing slightly, pain deep within your abdomen, that almost made your ikran lose her focus, and she wobbled a little midair, which made Tsireya scream. 

“It’s alright, you’re ok. We’re ok.”

You rushed to your marui as soon as Neyn landed and you saw Seze make her way to you as well. Poor girl. You and Neteyam might not have a spirit brother like Lo’ak now did, but these two, they were it for you. You and Neteyam had a bond with your ikran that transcended time, space and species, and you would never be able to replace them, as long as you lived. 

The first thing you needed was blood. He needed blood. You got out an empty blood bag and the tube, as well as a needle and syringe. You’d have to work fast, and you’d have to operate on him while the blood was being withdrawn, which will hurt, but you had to take the risk, he didn’t have much time. 

“Tsireya, listen to me. I need to give Neteyam blood. My blood. I need you to take that little ribbon and tighten it around my arm, below my bracelet. It needs to be so tight it hurts, do you understand? When I tell you, you need to remove it. Then, as soon as I put the needle in and the blood starts flowing, we will need to clean him and I will patch him up, ok?” 

Tsireya looked lost and trembling, her bottom lip quivering uncontrollably, but she nodded meekly, looking around at all the things she did not understand or know, deep panic on her features.

“Good girl.” As soon as she did what you asked, you found a vein and watched as deep, violent red liquid flowed softly from your body to the bag. The Metkayina girl gasped, but said nothing, just looking at the blood like in a trance, removing the tourniquet when you told her.

“It’s ok. This will help him. But we need to hurry. It takes about ten minutes for it to fill, maybe a bit longer since I will be using my arm at the same time.” 

You got to work immediately, cleaning and disinfecting the area where he lay, prepping all of your tools and asking Tsireya to be your scrub nurse for the day. You cleaned his body, bloodied and bruised, trying to not focus on how it was making you nauseous, making your mind sick and dizzy with worry and pain, and you knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You were too emotionally involved to be the one doing this, but there was no one else. Not Norm, not Max. Not Claire, or Tim, no one else. You took the scalpel and made a cut into his skin, asking Tsireya to cauterise wherever she saw bleeds. She was naturally good at this, you noted and you smiled at this girl who has only known you and Neteyam for a few months and yet here she was, crying and shaking, doing everything in her power to save your family from harm. You knew Lo’ak was a big reason for it, but not the only reason. You really liked her. 

You diligently removed all the shards and shrapnel the bullet left behind, and sutured every layer until his back was patched up. Somehow, the bullet missed his heart, and the main arteries, which you felt was Eywa’s doing. It had to be. Eywa wanted him to live, she had to. Because this wasn’t balance. Nothing about your lives has ever been balanced, and it would take a lot of good to equilibrate all the fucked up shit both you and him, your entire family has been through. So Neteyam had to live. 

Once the blood bag was full, you removed the needle from your body and got up, realising quickly you shouldn’t be standing up, falling to the ground with a thud. Shit. You once again had to turn to Tsireya for help, and she managed to hang the bag somewhere above you, so that the liquid could flow freely into Neteyam’s body. You waited until you turned him chest up, and then inserted the needle, allowing the blood to move through his now beating heart. Your blood. Your blood ran through his body, through his heart. Your blood will save him, like your hands did, like your body had to. You were about to collapse after losing so much, but knowing you were the reason he was still here empowered you. It was just you and him. Just you and him, in this whole world, for the rest of time.

It was hard having to turn him upside down without disturbing him or hurting him further, but eventually you and Tsireya managed to, and you did the same procedure on his chest, until that was also completely closed and clean. Your hands were trembling, and your suture ruptured a few times in his body, and it took every ounce of self-restrain you had to not cry, not to collapse in a puddle on the floor, to not scream in agony, not ask the Universe what the hell could you have ever done to deserve going through all of this? Nobody should have to go through having to lose a dad and a mate in one day, no one should have to fight tooth and nail to keep them from crossing to the other side, to patch their brokenness, whilst yours flourished and bloomed like deadly nightshade. You had to endure more in 19 years than most people do in their lives, more grief embellished your being than there were beads adorning Na’vi bodies. You were feeling sorry for yourself, and for once in your life, you didn’t want to stop, you didn’t want to have to pull yourself back together, you didn’t want to be strong anymore. You were tired. 

When you finished, you were spent, hours upon hours passing you by. You felt pain in your body everywhere, kicking at your insides like a monster waiting to crawl out of you with every push. You were cramping and the whole world turned around you, and you knew you were going to pass out from exhaustion. You went to your mat, anxiety enveloping you in knowing there was nothing else you could possibly do for Neteyam at the moment, and called for your turquoise friend. 

“Tsireya, when…if… the family gets back, you tell them they need to call Norm and Max. Tell them they need to get here as soon as possible. I can’t do this by myself.” You felt the world dissolving before you as you spoke, and allowed it to fully dissipate away from view, embracing the feeling of nothingness, because nothing meant no pain, and no images of your dead mate, and your dead dad, and you were happy with that. 

You woke up in a daze, faintly recognising the slur of voices blending together into one indistinctive blabber, that you tried with your whole might to decipher. You tried to open your eyes, but they were so heavy it felt like lifting weights back in the lab complex as a human. Eventually, your senses recovered and you were able to both see and hear the Sullys, as well as Norm and Max chatting to each other, huddled over Neteyam’s body. 

“She’s awake!” Tuk’s voice startled you, and seeing her approaching you excitedly tugged at your heart. My Tuk-tuk…

“Oh, Great Mother, thank you! Ma ‘ite!” Neytiri crouched next to your limp body and hugged you, and you winced as every part of you she was touching hurt. You saw scratches and bruises all over your body from the battle, that you were too preoccupied to notice before. 

“Sa’nok.” She sobbed in your chest, releasing all the anguish of thinking she has lost two kids in one night. “I’m ok, sa’nok. I’m here.” 

“You saved him! You saved him, I thought we lost him! I thought I lost him!” Her cries were ringing painfully in your ear, the sadness in them close to tearing you apart. 

“Is he…?” 

Jake came over and kneeled next to you, tears in his own eyes. The whole family looked exhausted, spent, physically and mentally, and you counted them quickly, sighing deeply when you found them all to be here, in the tent. 

“He’s still asleep, kid. What happened?” 

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

You moved next to Neteyam, holding his hand, just needing to feel him, and his now much stronger pulse, and spent the next while explaining everything you have had to do and watched as their mouths got progressively more agape in shock. Then they watched yours do the same as Jake told you what happened on the ship. 

“He’s dead, kid. He’s finally dead. Whatever else happens, at least Quaritch will never haunt this family ever again.” 

Your eyes immediately moved to Spider, and you felt a tinge of sadness for the boy who also had to lose his father, just like you have. No matter what, no matter what atrocities this man committed, you knew better than most than the love doesn’t go away, it runs deep and the water of an underwater cavern, hidden from view and light, but there, nevertheless. You were surprised, though, when upon looking at him, you saw him shifting uncomfortably, looking everywhere but you and your family, picking at his cuticles. It was a bad habit you shared, but one that gave away nervousness, anxiety - guilt. What the hell did you do, Spider?

“How long have I been out?”

“About a day?” 

You turned to Max and Norm, who were dutifully listening to everything, and you could tell how overwhelming it all was to them, how crazy and mind numbing and revolting. But it was life, your life. Your life. 

“How is he?”

All of the attention shifted back onto Neteyam, who looked like he was resting. He looked… happy. Peaceful. You hoped whatever he was going through, it was better than this abusive reality, and you hope he could finally rest, until he was ready to come back to you. 

“He’s in a coma, Ace.” You gasped a little, and another stabbing pain shot through you. “Look here.” He rose the portable EEG he had in his hands and scanned Neteyam’s brain from a distance. 

Your breath stopped as you took in the information on the screen.

“He’s in a hypoxic-ischaemic coma.” 

“W-what does that mean?” 

You gulped loudly before you answered Jake. 

“It means that his brain didn’t have enough oxygen after his heart stopped.” What you didn’t want to tell him is how few people actually come back from that, and come back the same way they left. You exchanged a look with Norm and saw the imperceptible head shake he gave in your direction, and once again, felt pain stabbing you everywhere in your body. 

“B-but he’ll be alright, no? He’ll wake up and it’ll be alright?” 

You lied to yourself as much as to them. “Yes. Yes, he’ll be alright.” 

Neteyam woke up startled, deep nightmares still fresh in his mind, nightmares of a battle, of a ship, of blood dripping over him and on the floor, pain shooting through him ceaselessly. Images of his mother screaming that haunted him, images of your forlorn face as the last thing on his mind before it all ended. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took in the familiar beauty of your meadow and took in the two small bodies resting against his own, nuzzled in his chest. He was ok. Everything was ok. He was home, his kids were safe. The voice humming peacefully blessed his ears, and he knew then that you were also safe. It was just a nightmare. 

He quietly untangled himself from his kids’ grasps, that ended up cuddling each other back to sleep, paying little mind to their dad. He took in the sight that swelled his heart so much he felt it was going to explode out of his chest. He has never been happier. He couldn’t imagine life getting any better. 

“I didn’t know if you’d come back.” Your voice was soft and angelic, like it always was, but your words confused him. 

“What do you mean? Where else would I go?” 

You sighed, but patted the spot next to you so he could join you. You looked over at the two little beings sleeping peacefully a few feet from you.

“So these are our kids, huh?”

Further confusion enwrapped Neteyam like a quilt. He didn’t understand most words that were coming out of your mouth. 

“So you want two kids? Not three? I always thought you wanted a whole football team.” You say almost to yourself, laughing a little with your hand brought to your mouth in amusement. 

“Atan, what is going on? I don’t understand what you are saying. You’re acting like you don’t know our kids.” 

You smiled a little in his direction, a sorrowful smile, but as you brought your hand up to his face and caressed his cheek in the way you always did, in the way that calmed his mind and set his skin ablaze, all the worry left him. 

“They’re beautiful. So beautiful. Perfect mix of you and me. You know, I used to think about our kids, think about the impossible scenario that you and me could bring life into this crazy world, but they’re so much better than my imagination ever was. Pure and good, unlike the world they’ll never get to see.”

Neteyam didn’t have time to question you, not when the little bundles of joy in question rose sleepily and tackled you both, squeals and happy screams filling up the forest. 

“Mummy! Daddy! You’re both here! We missed you, mum!” 

“Did you, now?” Neteyam looked at you, and you looked like you were struggling to adjust to the new development, like you were trying to thread the ground and the situation carefully. You looked…uncomfortable. Why were you uncomfortable around your own children? Neteyam’s seen you with Tuk a million times, you were great with children. He couldn’t help the seed of doubt and fear that was growing in his belly, making him nervous. What was going on?

“Let’s swim, all of us! We haven’t swam together in a long time!” Tsyeym pushed to her feet and grabbed you both with all her might, trying to will you towards the river. He watched as you relented, and eventually got up, grabbing her on the way and bringing her up into your arms. 

“Wait a second. Let me have a look at you.” You analysed the little girl, your little girl, every feature and freckle on her face. You poked her small nose with your index finger and traced it on her face, on her perfect pink plush lips and her yellow eyes, to her braided hair. You gently grabbed her queue and laughed a little as Tsyeym shrieked - it tickled her. “So you’re my little baby girl? You are the most beautiful thing in the world, aren’t you?” You turned to Neteyam, and he noticed you holding back tears. You looked happy. “She has my eyes. My mother’s eyes.” 

Neteyam nodded, confusion still gnawing at him. “Of course she does. Your eyes are the most incredible things I have ever seen in my life. They are like treasures - my treasures.” 

“Just like she is.” You held her against your chest and Neteyam watched as his daughter made a home out of it, so stuck to you he didn’t think he could ever separate you again. 

“Tsyeym (treasure). That should be her name.”

“Atan… that is her name.” 

“And what about this mighty warrior?” Kalin ran to his mother, grabbing onto your leg and holding on, attaching himself to you much like Tsyeym did. You kneeled, with Tsy still in your arms, and did a similar inspection of his son as you just did a few minutes ago. You took him by the hand and twirled him around, taking in every aspect of his being. “Look at this hair! My hair. Tsyeym has your hair, but he has mine. And look at those stripes, just like mummy and daddy, like a little tiger. Come here.” You kissed his entire face, starting with his nose and all around, ending with his human-coloured eyes and the top of his head.

“Why do you taste so sweet? You’re a sweetie pie, aren’t you? You’re mine, my sweet.”

You looked up at Neteyam, like you just had the most brilliant idea. “Kalin!! His name has to be Kalin (Sweet to the taste)!” 

Why did you keep doing that? Those were their names, their names you gave them at birth. He was going to ask you what the hell was going on with you, when a loud sound boomed in the sky. It sounded like thunder, but not quite. It must have been thunder, what else could it be? The kids screaming got his undivided attention, and he rushed to their side to comfort them both, grabbing Kalin is his arms and holding him while he saw you doing the same with your baby girl. 

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright, we’re alright.” 

“What was that?”

“My love, you need to remember. Please. I’m here for you.”

“I know you are, Atan. I just don’t know what you want me to remember. Can you please tell me?” 

“I can’t, Neteyam. You have to figure it out yourself. You have to try harder. We don't have a lot of time. Please. I am here for you.” 

The river adventure removed the anxiety rising in Neteyam’s chest, and he concluded the boom he heard was just particularly nasty thunder. Thunderstorms were not uncommon in the forest, and the sooner his babies got used to them and realised they were nothing to be afraid of - the better. There was no reason to let it come between them and the perfect day they were having. After a couple hours, you were all soaked, so much laughter and joy Neteyam’s mouth hurt from how much it was stretching to accommodate the unwavering smile refusing to leave his face. Eventually, his family was all too tired to go on, and you all stretched on the grass, huddled together, arms and legs intertwined so thoroughly, it was impossible to tell who was who anymore. 

“Mummy, can you sing for us? It’s nap time!” 

“Is it nap time already? Sure, sweets. I can sing.” 

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you'll be drowned

“Neteyam…” you were hunched over your mate’s body, alone with just him, alone at last to pour your soul out and hope he would hear you, hope there was a chance. You had to try. 

“Neteyam… please. I know you are in pain, and I know how much this life takes and takes from you. I know you’re probably at peace wherever you are, but you can’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I know it’s selfish, so selfish, but I need you to please come back to me. I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard, but you have to come back. I can’t live knowing all I’ll ever get is scraps of you, scraps of us. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after I’ve seen the future, so clear and bright in my head. Not after knowing everything I’ll lose if I lose you.” 

You walked to the edge of the platform and sat down next to your favourite two scientists, that you were so happy to see, and so sad it was always under such undesirable circumstances. 

“How is he?” 

“Pretty much the same.” You dunked your feet in the water with a sigh, looking at the way the fish swam in between them, some of them tickling you as they went past. 

“How are you? We didn’t even get to give you a check and make sure everything’s alright. You gave him a lot of blood.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I did what I had to do.”

“You saved his life, Ace. He was dead and you brought him back to life. You did it.” 

“Maybe. Maybe I just revived his heart so he could be a vegetable for the rest of time. Maybe all I did is prolong the inevitable and give his family false hope.”

“Don’t say that. He’ll wake up.” 

You rolled your eyes and huffed annoyed in Max’s direction. 

“Come on, Max. We’re all scientists here. What are the chances someone comes back from hypoxic-ischaemic coma? Roughly 70% of people die. And of the 30% that make it, most of them have severe brain damage, that impacts most aspects of their lives.”

“That’s human statistics, Ace. Human statistics have no business here on Pandora. You know that. You of all people should know that. You died. You were without oxygen for 30 minutes, and you came back, after chatting to your mum in the afterlife and her telling you the cure for a deadly virus. You should have faith, Ace. Faith in yourself, in Neteyam…faith in Eywa.” 

You couldn’t take another word on the subject, not when you were so close to fully breaking down in front of them, so you chose another - easier to digest, if not as hard to talk about. 

“Did Jake and Neytiri go get my dad?” 

“Yes. They all went. They should be back soon.”

“Lo’ak said you… went to save him. What happened?” 

“He… he’s not who I thought he was. Not who I spent my whole life hating. I was wrong about him. I was so wrong.” 

You told them everything that happened after he left you the message, and they listened attentively and gasped softly at every turn of events. 

“I… I couldn’t save him. He bled out in front of me. I will never get a chance to make it right. He’ll never get a chance to make it right. I wanted him to stay. I thought we could finally be a family. I thought I could allow him to finally have a daughter, a daughter that stays, a daughter that he got to watch live. I wanted him to be a grandpa. I imagined him teaching my kids about Earth, babysitting when Neteyam and I wanted time for ourselves. I don’t know why, but I feel like he would have been the best grandpa. He saved us, he saved me. He was redeeming himself, he could have been one of the people. We were supposed to be a family. I was supposed to have a family.” 

You didn’t even realise you were crying until Norm reached over and wiped the tears off your face with his thumb. They didn’t have anything to say. There was nothing, no comforting words, no words of encouragement that would ever mend this, that would ever make this less painful than it was. 

Your attention shifted onto the Tsurak that flew above water, a burst of orange in a sea of blue. Behind it were a couple of ilu and in the air, Neytiri’s ikran was flying majestically. 

Jake reached your marui first, followed closely by the rest of the Sullys. You got up to help him unload your dad’s body, wrapped beautifully in mangrove leaves and colourful shroud and placed on a stretcher made out of woven tree branches. 

He was hidden from you, but it didn’t matter - your imagination was more than enough to paint him right in front of your mind’s eye, bloated and bloodied, wet and dirty from having been left on a rock for 2 days. You just left him there. By himself. You passed out and left your own dad to rot, the same way he did the first time - alone. Your mind was torturing you, the way it always loved to, and you knew this image would be tattooed in your brain, alongside that of Neteyam’s eyes going vacant as you watched, for as long as you lived. No matter how much you healed, no matter how much old nightmares faded, there were always new ones to take their place, new nightmares to show you you will never outrun your trauma. Not now, not soon, not for the rest of your life. 

“We talked to Tonowari and Ronal, baby girl. We explained, we told them what Lo’ak and Spider told us, about how your dad fought alongside us, how he saved your lives, and he will be allowed a Metkayina funeral. This way he will be with Eywa.”

Your tears that never ceased multiplied, and you couldn’t help the sob that escaped your lips. 

“Thank you.” You ran into Jake’s arms and he hugged you tightly, stroking your hair gently in a comforting gesture. “Thank you so much. Thank you.” 

“Of course, kid. Your dad was a good man, and he deserves to be with your mother again.” 

You brought him to the Tsahik’s tent, and watched as they undid all the wrappings, until he was in view, and although not as bad as you imagined, he didn’t look good. You knew decomposition worked faster in water than on land, but you never thought you’d have to witness it first hand, and definitely not with your dad. 

“Go, kid. We can clean him up.”

You shook your head, not removing your eyes from his body. You left him there, you had to do this.

You knelt on the ground next to him, and Ronal guided you through the required steps and rituals, until he was ready, a few hours later. He looked a lot better when you were done, and you smiled softly, allowing the salty tears to stain your mouth. He looked peaceful. You didn’t think he felt peace in his whole life, so you were at least grateful he could experience it now. 

“We will do the funeral ceremony tonight. We will take him to the Cove of the Ancestors after Eclipse.” 

Another stabbing pain shot through you, and you wondered how much longer your body would keep going under this amount of strenuous stress. How long until all this heartbreak broke your body down beyond repair? 

You returned to your tent, getting ready for the ceremony, allowing your family to paint you in funeral markings, allowing them to dress you in ceremonial garbs, an ornate shawl covering your shoulders - all while you were holding Tuk in your lap. You were cold, you noted absentmindedly. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt cold, but there is was - shivers, like ice water in your veins, running down your spine, extending to each extremity, making a home in your bones. 

You needed Neteyam. You needed him to be here, you needed him to be your light, to guide you through this time, to hold you and keep you warm as you had to give your dad to the sea, and say goodbye - forever. But he didn’t budge from his spot on the mat, breathing in and out deeply and regularly. He’s just sleeping. Just sleeping.

Neteyam was cold as he woke up from another horrible dream, a similar dream, a deathly dream he couldn’t shake from his mind no matter how much he tried. He kept being pulled in and out of consciousness, it seemed, and he wondered meekly if anything was wrong. Some things felt wrong. Just a little wrong. He took a look at you, buried in his arms, sleeping peacefully next to him, and gasped as your face brought back another dream, so vivid and lucid, it was like it wasn’t a dream at all, like it was a… a memory. 

As much as he missed home, Neteyam had to admit little managed to beat waking up in this marui, where the sun was shining through the intricate web of fabrics, creating colourful moving patterns and where the salty air cleared his nose immediately and woke him up with newfound enthusiasm for a new day of discovering all the new ways this place differed from his own. His entire family was fast asleep, and he sighed contently when he felt your breath tickling his neck and your arms and legs draped loosely across his body. He couldn’t help the excited movement of his tail taking you in, knowing he got to wake up next to you every day, that he’d never have to live without this feeling ever again, that he got to call you his mate, his light… his. For life. He kissed the top of you head and watched as you stirred, waking up from your slumber with a haphazard stretch of all your limbs. When your amber eyes met his and your tired smile made its way to your lips, his heart stopped. You were so beautiful. 

“Good morning, my love. Did anyone ever tell you it’s ok to not wake up at the crack ass of dawn?” 

He smiled, trying to keep quiet so as to not disturb the rest of his family. 

“I’m too excited to see you to sleep, Atan.”

You rolled your eyes at him, letting out an amused scoff. He rolled on top of you, pinning you down with his body. You gasped at the feeling of his hard-on rubbing against your core and he smiled at the way your pupils immediately dilated and your breath shallowed, rolling your hips to meet his. 

“Atan, it’s the crack ass of dawn, what are you doing?” 

“You started it.” 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” 

“Hey, I have had to live for years wanting you and not being able to have you. You have a lot to make up for.” 

He laughed again and laughed some more when you pressed your hand tightly against his mouth as his mother turned slightly in her sleep.

“How about we go for a swim, just you and me? Then I’ll make it up to you for as long as you like.”

You raised your head slightly to close the gap in between you and the kiss brought life into him, brought light into every corner of his being until there was nothing left of him but this feeling, the feeling of you overtaking his every sense. 

He was panting as the dream faded, panic overtaking him. What was that? It felt so real. So raw. Not a dream. A memory. Your amber eyes, your blue striped skin. He looked at the version of you sleeping in his arms, human, the same human he’s known all his life, the human he fell in love with. The skin he traced with his eyes, the freckles adorning it that Neteyam knew by heart, your hair that flowed softly down your back and tickled his arm where it touched it. Your eyes that were your mother’s, the thing you loved most about yourself - that he loved most about you. The body you left behind when you did your consciousness transfer. 

How were you here? In his arms? How was it possible? 

“My love, you need to remember. Please. I’m here for you.”

Remember what? What couldn’t he remember? Why couldn’t he remember? 

“Ace, come here. Look at this.” You were about to leave for your dad’s funeral when Norm pulled you aside, showing you the EEG scanning Neteyam’s brain waves. “Look at it.” 

You did and your eyes widened as your brain processed what it was seeing. “He’s… seizing?” 

“Those are ictal epileptiform discharges. He’s definitely seizing.”

“But his body is still.”

“Not all seizures manifest the same way. There are non-motor seizures, as well. But the waves don’t lie, Ace. He’s seizing. And we can’t know for sure, because we didn’t see Kiri’s brain when she seized, but I think it’s the same kind of seizures. She had interictal activity in her prefrontal when we got to her.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting taking in all of the information and trying to process it, at the same time as dealing with the horrible pain shooting through you and the heartbreak of having to bury your dad without your mate by your side. The world was fading around you, but you knew you had to push through, at least until the end of the ceremony. 

If Neteyam’s seizures were the same as Kiri’s, maybe the coma was a lot more than what they thought, than what you thought. Maybe it has something to do with Eywa. Could it be? That he was trapped, just like your mum had been? Could it be that you could find him? Finally see him again? That you could get him back?

Your body quickly caught up to you as the pain became unbearable, and you screamed loudly without meaning to as you felt cramping in your abdomen, like life was being torn away from you with every second passing. The marui and everyone around it quickly disappeared from view, and you felt yourself collapse to the ground and into deep slumber. Maybe you could finally rest. 

You woke up confused and numb. The world slowly came back into focus, as did your family members going in between you and Neteyam, unable to figure out who they should worry for at any current moment. You glanced at your arm and then above you, and said a silent prayer of gratitude for Norm and Max, who decided to give you some morphine for the pain. As Lo’ak took note of your cognisance, he let out a scream that came out more like a pained yelp. 

“She’s awake. She’s awake.” 

Jake rushed to your side and took your face in both his hands, alarmingly checking on you, eyes darting over every piece of you they could cover. Then a look of deep sorrow replaced his previous one, and you felt the panic rise in you once more, not enough morphine in the world to keep the ugly feeling at bay. 

“What happened?” Was Neteyam ok? Was everyone ok? What else could possibly be wrong? It didn’t feel like there was anything in this world that could make this whole ordeal somehow worse.

“You… You passed out, kid.”

Norm’s body was trailing all around you, checking on your vitals and on the other IV you know realised were flowing into your body from various sites. 

“Just please tell me. You’re looking at me like you have something to tell me, and I just need to know. Please. I just need to know.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Your entire family encircled you, holding onto you, your arms, your hands, your legs. Looking at you sorrowfully, mournfully, and you felt like you were one sentence away from passing out again. 

Max spoke. “The stress… everything you went through the past couple of days, it put a lot of strain on your body. A lot more than it could take.”

“Honey… you had a miscarriage.” 

You were wrong, you thought as you felt the consciousness slip away from your grasp once more. There was one thing in this world that could make this whole ordeal somehow worse.

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja @lovekeeho @trixscarlett

*poem by Nikki Ursula - Seventy Years of Sleep #4

[bbyquokka]

you’re not my secret anymore, but my lover. ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙♥️

🦙: pairing: Hyunjin & f!reader

🦙: genre: smut, 18-? DNI! fluff and a bit of angst (possibly ??)

🦙: synopsis: realising your feelings for Hyunjin have become more that just friends with benefits, you came clean to everyone

🦙: warnings: cheating, unprotected sex, bondage (hands bound), degrading names, (slut, whore) pet names, reader is fucked dumb, orgasm denial, explicit language, fingering, clit play

🦙: words: 3.3k

🦙: a/n: part 2 of  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Got secrets i cant tell got requested so i thought, why not do it! i already had some ideas before i got the request but didnt know if i should write a continuation, so ty anon for requesting! thank you for all the love on the first part as well 🥰 as always, likes, reblogs and feedback is always welcome! lmk if i missed anything in the warnings and ty!

🦙: side note: i got a message from an anon shortly after i posted p1 claiming that because i write about cheating, they’re going to assume i cheat irl. Please note that what i write about, doesn't imply this is how i think or feel about SKZ and how I feel about certain topics. my work is fictional! There are warnings for a reason. you do not have to like my work, that is fine. you cannot appeal to everyone's taste, however, please do not think it is okay to come to my inbox and message me something like this. just simply scroll past my post. Myself and other writers aim for constructive feedback. Please think before you send messages because it can be demotivating. Thank you.

🦙: master list

"Hyunjin.." you breathed out. "Please, i cant take it no more!" A chuckle erupted from the man who was currently situated between your legs.

"i warned you what would happen if you carried on (Y/N) you want to behave like a brat, you will get punished like on." he growled lowly before licking a slow and long strip from your entrance to your clit, sucking and nibbling it gently. you whined, tugging at your restraints. your hands are currenly bound together by Hyunjin's belt.

Hyunjin licked, nibbled and sucked on your clit, hands on your inner thighs pushing them apart as well as stopping you from closing them around his head. you was sensitive, your body on fire as waves of pleasure rippled through your body, toes curling. Hyunjin pulled away and licked his middle and index finger. you watched him through hooded eyes, chest rising up and down rapidly due to your laboured breathing.

Hyunjin slipped his saliva coated fingers into you, hissing at the warmth and tightness that welcomed his fingers. he thrusted them in and out, starting of slowly, gradually picking up the pace. he curled his long fingers inside aiming for the sweet spot. Your eyes widen as loud moans in the form of his name rolled off your tongue indicating he hit it. he smirked and began to rub fast circles on your clit with his thumb.

"Let me touch you, hyunjin. please! im sorry, i wont do it again. just let me free." you cried out, hot tears welling in your eyes. hyunjin licked his lip slowly, eyebrow raised as he watched you turn red with frustration, your pussy clentching around his digits

"i told you, (Y/N) behave like a brat, you get punished like one." you thought it would be a good idea to tease hyunjin in public. you'd innocently brush your hand over his crotch, occasionally giving it a light squeeze. you'd look around and when you was sure there was no one around, you flashed your breasts at him, giggling like a naughty school girl.

hyunjin warned you more than once. on the 5th warning - he should have just warned you 3 times, thinking you learnt - he dragged you to the nearest hotel, stripping you off your clothes and binding your wrists together with his belt. He started to play with your breasts and pussy, denying you of your orgasm and the ability to touch him. to say you was frustrated, was an understatement.

the famillar knot that was forming soon disappeared as Hyunjin removed his fingers, licking his fingers and humming at the taste of your wetness. "you always taste so good for me." he groaned. you mewled at his words, pussy convulsing. you wanted to cum so bad that it was getting painful for you.

"You're being such a good girl for me. Have you learnt your lesson? when i warn you more than once and you dont listen, this is what happens." He cooed at you, stroking your hot, flushed cheek. You nodded fast, the room spinning slightly. "Use your words princess."

"I've learnt my lesson. Please, i need you so bad, it hurts." You begged. Your body was trembling slightly with desire, tears falling down your cheek as you chewed your bottom lip. Hyunjin licked his lips, loving the way you begged and pleaded for him. He loved how he has made you like this. He wasnt a possessive person but something about you made him want to have you all for himself. He knew that that wasnt allowed considering you was still with your partner, even after all these months of you two sleeping with each other behind their back.

Stripping himself of his clothing, he flipped you on your stomach. Your head lay on the hotel pillow, your bound hands inbetween your legs, under your stomach. Hyunjin positioned himself behind you, grabbing your hips and lifting you up on your knees. You spread your legs apart, giving him full view of your aching pussy, which was coated in your wetness, clit red and swollen and your inner thighs decorated with purple bruises.

You shook your ass at Hyunjin, giggling cheekily before letting out a yelp as his hand came into contact with your flesh followed by a loud slap. "You're so cheeky, (Y/N) You know how to rile me up and as much as i want to continue to tease you and hear you beg to cum, im at my limit."

Hyunjin grabbed his hard cock, tip red and coated with pre cum. He gave it a few strokes before teasing your entrance, rubbing his tip against it, coating it in your arousal. You shook your hips more, indicating that he should just put it in already. He chuckled before pushing his length inside, the glorious burn from the stretch causing you to moan and shiver. No matter how many times you two go at it, you'll never get use to his size. He pushed himself inside until he was balls deep, groaning at the warmth and tightness of your pussy.

"Move." You whispered. Hyunjin grabbed your hips and started thrusting slow before picking up the pace once he heard how frequently you was moaning out. His hips smacking against your own, the grip on your hips tightening as Hyunjin positioned himself, aiming for the squishy spot. Your eyes widen as he hit it, causing you to moan his name loudly in a string of curses.

Hyunjin moved one hand down your spine and into your hair, tugging it roughly. You was overwhelmed by the pleasure that you lost the ability to think. Your mouth hung open in a O shape. drool falling past your lips. Your throat becoming dry with the endless amounts of panting. The only words you could form was "Hyunjin" and "Good".

"My, my. It looks like i have fucked you dumb, yet again. My little slut, going dumb for me, for this cock that you love so much. You such a cock whore, (Y/N). It shows with how well this dirty cunt is taking me in." You whimpered at his dirty words, feeling degraded but you liked it when he spoke like this to you. It helped you and him to chase your highs faster. You've learnt that Hyunjin is the type of person to want to cum together with his partner.

Your pussy clenched around him tightly, Hyunjin's movements sloppy. The knot was tightening in your stomach. All you could focus on was chasing your high along with Hyunjin.

"C-close. want to cum.." you whimpered.

"its ok. you've endured enough baby. Cum around my cock, princess." You nodded and allowed yourself to let go. You moaned Hyunjin's name loudly, body twitching as your walls clamped around Hyunjin's cock. Hyunjin moaned with you, movements coming to a stop as he painting your insides white, before thrusting into you shallowly, riding out both your highs.

He pulled out off you slowly, swallowing when his cum trailed out off you and down your thighs, dripping onto the sheets. Your legs became weak as you collapsed. you closed your eyes, basking in the glory of being fucked by a God. You felt sleep slowly taking over you before you felt a pair of strong arms flip you onto your back gently, unbinding your wrists and kissing them softly before picking you up bridal style and walking to the bathroom.

"Where we going?" you asked sleepily, head resting against his shoulder.

"Getting you cleaned up. aftercare is important after sex, baby. Anyways, you have to look fresh before you go back home." You nodded, biting your lip.

Ah. Home. Back to reality. Back to pretending and acting like nothing is happening. You was ultimately living a double lifestyle. You know you should break up with your partner, it's only fair and humane, but not only is the danger of possibly getting caught either by him or one of their friends, you didnt have the heart to break his heart. Which, to an outsider looking in, seems stupid. What you're doing, is the ultimate betrayal. But, you and hyunjin are just fuck buddies, no strings attached and all that. Right??

you tried to ignore it. you tried to convince yourself that your feelings was all because you was 'in the moment' The longer you ignored, the stronger the feelings became. You soon found yourself checking your phone every 5 minutes to see if Hyunjin had sent you a text, stalking his instagram, saving his photos, daydreaming about him. When you was away from him, ultimately living your double life, you craved him like a high schooler that had a crush.

Your relationship with your partner, however, started to become stale. You hardly spoke to one another, instead of eating at the dining table like you use to, you'd either be eating alone or sat with a lap tray in front of the tv screen. Things in the bedroom department became stale to. You didnt feel the need to have sex with them, purely because you was getting your insides ruined every other day by Hyunjin. If your partner made the first move, you'd make excuses "Im tired." "I feel sick" "Im not in the mood, maybe later." and when you did have sex, you'd often imagine it was Hyunjin, although it didnt help because your partner and Hyunjin treated you differently in the bedroom.

You soon realised that this wasn't just a friends with benefits deal for you anymore when Hyunjin took you out on a date. You lied to your partner, saying that you had to be away from home due to a 'work conference' when in reality, Hyunjin was taking you somewhere special, somewhere out off town to reduce the risk of getting caught.

The day started off with Hyunjin greeting you dressed in casual wear, holding roses. You felt your heart skipping beats, butterflies errupting in your stomach. You ignored the feeling, but as your day continued, they got stronger and stronger until you couldnt ignore it no more. It also didnt help that Hyunjin was treating you like a princess, buying you whatever you wanted, claiming that you're his princess so you should be treated like one. You had lunch at a cafe, talked about everything and everyone. The day ended with dinner at a fancy restaurant topped with endless hours of sex back at the hotel room.

You didnt want to return back to your old, boring life. You had such fun, being able to do what you wanted, be doted upon and not have to think about real life. Coming to the realisation that you love Hyunjin, you love him more than you thought you could ever love a person, that you had fallen hard for him, you debated on whether to tell him or not.

You was scared. Scared of rejection. What if your feelings were just one side, that this whole thing is just sex to Hyunjin. Nothing more, nothing less. But why would he treat you with such care? Like you're the most expensive diamond in the world that needs to be protected at all cost. You settled on not telling him, keeping it to yourself. You'd rather have him as a fuck buddy than not have him at all.

As time went on, your worries and concerns started to reflect and affect your everyday life. Your partner was starting to suspect something was going on, questioning you causing you to lie or deny everything. Soon after, Hyunjin started to suspect that something was wrong. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

"(Y/N)?" You hummed, looking up and taking the glass of water from Hyunjin. You was at his place, prepared to do your usual routine until hyunjin realised you wasn't mental there with him, so he insisted you both stopped, saying it didn't feel right.

So here you are, sat on the sofa wearing underwear and Hyunjin's t-shirt whilst he was just in underwear. You brung the glass to your lips, the cold, refreshing water coating your tongue and throat.

"What's wrong? You've been distance since you arrived here." You placed your glass down on the coffee table, licking you top lip to collect any left over water.

"Nothing, I'm fine." You gave him a fake smile, causing Hyunjin to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh really now? Who are you trying to convince? Yourself? It's best to talk to me (Y/N) i know you better than anyone else, than yourself. Whatever it may be, i'll try and give you the best advice possible." He placed a hand on top of yours, stroking it with the pad of his thumb. Biting your lip hard, you felt a lump in your throat. you looked down at your lap, hair hiding your face as you felt tears well in your eyes as you shook your head no.

Hyunjin lifted your chin up gently, his gaze falling on your features as his face fell slightly once he realised. "Hey, hey princess. Talk to me, it'll make you feel better."

"I cant." You inaudibly whispers, tears spilling down your cheeks

"Why?"

"Because it'll change us. Change this relationship and what we have going on. It will make my feelings a reality and i dont want that." You sobbed. Hyunjin wiped your tears away gently.

"Whatever it may be, whatever is going on in that head of yours, nothing will ever change us. You're special to me, an important part of my life and whatever is happening, will never change that. You hear me??" His voice was stern and sincere. You let the flood gates open, hearing his words made your heart ache and feel sick. You started crying uncontrollably. Hyunjin cooed as he pulled you onto his lap, legs on either side of him

You buried your head into the crook of his neck, tears wetting his skin. He rubbed slow circles on your back, hushing you softly as he rocked you back and forth. Once calm, you kept your head buried before whispering against his skin.

"What was that, baby?" Biting your lip and taking a deep breath in, cursing yourself for being quiet and having to repeat yourself, you sat up straight. Looking directly in his eyes, you melted.

"I love you." Hyunjin started at you blanky, blinking a few times, processing what you said. Time moved slow, your anxiety started to rise. You felt sick, you started to panic.

"Im sorry. I shouldnt have said that. It was crossing the line. Ah, why do i have to be so dumb and open my big, stupid mouth. Well done, me. you really fucked up. Ahhhh! i should've just kept my mouth shut and continued with what we already have because I'd rather have that than nothing at all because at least you'd still be in my life. I'll go back to my partner and my boring life an-"

Your rambling was cut off with Hyunjin bursting into fits of giggles. This time, it was your turn to stare at him blankly.

"You're so cute when you ramble. That's one of the many reasons as to why I love you too."

"Huh? w-what?" Your eyes widen a little, heart beat picking up as the butterflies in your stomach travelled along your body. You felt fresh tears well in your eyes, a smile forming on your face 'You - love me too..?" You asked carefully, hoping you didnt misunderstand.

Hyunjin nodded slowly, holding your waist gently under your t-shirt, his fingers stroking your delicate skin.

"I've always loved you, ever since i laid my eyes on you. I thought i was being greated by a Goddess with the beauty that radiated from you." You laughed softly, thinking back to the time where you thought the exact same thing about him.

"why didnt you say something?"

"Scared. Scared of loosing you for good. Came to the conclusion that it was better to act how we always have been. That way, at least i still have you, even if i did have to share you."

"So, what now?"

"Thats for you to decide, princess. You still have someone waiting for you at home. Someone you've known a lot longer than me. Just know that, whatever you decide, im here whatever the outcome may be. Understood?" You nodded. You had some decision making to do.

Stay with your partner. Someone you've known for a long time, who you've made memories with. However, things have been stale for you. You havent had your heart in the relationship for a while. You was just with them because you felt guilty - you was guilt tripping yourself, fooling yourself into thinking you could force yourself to love your partner again like you use to.

Upon hearing that Hyunjin's feelings are 100% mutual with your own, you mind was already made. It's Hyunjin you want, Hyunjin you need. You thinking about him 24/7. Get a rush of excitement whenever you see him. Butterflies constantly in your stomach. He treats you like a Queen and you fall in love with him all over again. All you had to do was tell the truth

which you should have done at the beginning.

A few days later, you and Hyunjin agreed to not see each other until the truth was out. You agreed that you would explain to your partner first before they would rush over and demand an explanation from Hyunjin. You just had to get the ball rolling. You both knew it was going to be rough, this is months of betrayal thats about to be aired out. To say you was nervous, was an understatement.

You decided to do it now, today. It was better to rip the band aid off sooner rather than later. Giving yourself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, you pulled out your phone and texted Hyunjin.

you: okay. im about to rip this band aid off and tell them everything.. 😥

Hyunjin: ok baby. Just remember that whatever happens, im here. I love you xx 💖🥰

you: i love you too 🥺👉🏼👈🏼💘 xx

you put your phone away and walked out the bathroom, calming your breathing. Heart hammering against your rib cage, you approached your partner who was currently sitting at the dining table on front of their laptop.

"Hey.. we need to talk."

A couple of hours later, you knocked on Hyunjin's door, a suitcase and bag situated beside your feet. Hyunjin opened the door, instantly pulling you into his arms. it had been an emotional couple of hours for all of you.

You finally told your now ex partner what has been going on and how you really felt. They were understandable mad, upset, confused and heartbroken. You both cried, you feeling like you didnt have the right to cry because you willingly let it continue up to this point but that didnt mean you didnt care. You hoped that once everything was settled, you and your ex could still be friends however, you didnt see it being possible after he claimed he hates Hyunjin with his entire existence and he never wanted to see you or him ever again.

'You did good, sweetheart. Im proud of you." Hyunjin cooed softly, rocking you back and forth. You smiled slightly. "I know its not over yet, that its just the beginning. but its me and you from now on and i wouldnt have it any other way. I love you so much (Y/N)"

Hyunjin squeezed you causing you to laugh. "Hyunjin, cant breathee!"

"Oh, sorry. Im just so so happy right now!"

"Yeah, me too baby. Its just us two now." Hyunjin nodded before grabbing your belongings. You followed him inside his home, his dog Kkami, greeting you as hyunjin closing the door behind you both as you kicked off your shoes and hung your coat.

"Hey, (Y/N)" You turned on your heels as Hyunjin put your belongings down before smiling from ear to ear

"Welcome home."

[somethingspecial-zennie]

TITLE: THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE: PART 6

PAIRING: JEONG JAEHYUN x Y/n

GENRE: Mafia AU

WARNING:::::: Beep beep reader's disclaimer. The topics written below are really triggering and can make you feel uncomfortable. Please refrain from reading if you are sensitive to some toxic dark side of love.

WORD COUNT: 5K

SUMMARY: You want to leave but he won't let you go even if it costs him everything, even if it costs him you, your love. He is ready to let go of everything just to have you by his side.

NOTE: Uhm hi again. I am back with my inconsistent writing habits (*psst tells a lot about my personality* 🥲). I am back with part 6 it's a little longer than the rest but still I hope it's worth it.💚

*Sorry I was kinda in a hurry so I didn't get to proofread. Hope you don't mind :) *

Taglist:

@ahtisa02 @raven-rin @multistan30@queenrachelpink @aedreamzy@sunshinedhyuck @cottonniebunnie @gor3rxx@lilacboba@zzhiyeee @sweet-honeywood @yesohhsehun@sibehpoor@ghostfacefricker6969

LINK FOR PART 1:

LINK FOR PART 5:

You blanked out. Everything looked dark. Your body felt cold. The warm embrace of the man who held you close was missing. You didn't have the strength to stand up or to even move a single inch. You lay there on the cold ground unsure how much time has passed since you settled in the darkness of this shallow room's shadow.

You felt something warm wrapping around your naked body. You didn't even bother to check who it was. You couldn't care more. Not after what had happened. You felt yourself getting picked up by someone. It wasn't Jaehyun. A part of you felt disappointed. You tried so hard to suppress the little voice screaming at you about the monster he is. But now the voice came banging in your head. Making itself clear. Forcing you to see the ugly truth under the clouded mirage of a gentleman that you thought he was.

The brightness of the world outside the small basement blinded your eyes. You grimaced in pain as the rays of sunlight stung your eyes painfully. It took you more than a moment to settle your eyes before you could see again. The light falling on you felt so warm. So welcoming.

Your eyes fell on the man who was carrying you back to your room. Was it even your room to say? You don't know.

It was Neo. The one who covered you with a blanket and the one carrying you out of the basement. You raised up your hand to touch him. Is it really him? How far can you trust him?

You know right you cannot get mad at me? Only I can help you.

You remember him saying this to you. Is it really true? Why would he help you? There is no reason for him to help you unless..

Unless... You thought.

Your fingers touched his cheek. You softly ran your fingers down his chin. The reddish pink flush in his face was obvious.

His eyes followed your fingers and then turned towards you.

"Rest, Y/n." He said softly, before looking up again.

He put you down on your bed in your so-called room. His eyes tried to avoid your gaze. Was he feeling guilty? Or ashamed? Or does he see you as not worthy enough to meet his eyes?

"Neo." You called his name, as he tucked you in. He never looked up at you, like you never called. He turned his back on you trying to leave.

You grabbed his wrist from behind. You tried to sit up with whatever remaining strength you were left with.

"Do you like me?" You asked him.

"What are you talking about Y/n?" He said, without even looking back at you once.

"Why is your face flushed then? Why cannot you not look at my face?" You asked him again, hoping so badly that you're right, that you're not mistaken. If anyone, he is the one who can actually help you get out of here.

"Help me Neo." You begged, your voice lost. But he didn't even budge nor looked back at you.

"Please." Your voice came out as a gasp.

He glanced at you once for the last time, before he removed your hand from his wrist and walked out of the room closing the door shut behind him.

You felt devastated. Broken. The only hope you had left you alone without a word. All the tears have already dried, until you have no more tears left.

Time passed slowly. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days. You stared at the ceiling, your head blank. Everything looked dark to you. Dark and cold. You bought the blanket close to your chest gripping it tightly. You don't have anyone to hold onto. You felt alone. Lonely. The blanket around you could only give some comfort to your physical body. But the pain in your head. How would you console it? You have no one here.

The door creaked open. Your heart missed a beat. You shut your eyes tight hoping it's anyone but Jaehyun. Anyone. But him.

You hear the footsteps approaching. It sounded lighter, not like a man.

You opened your one eye very slightly to peek at who it was. It was Yara. You sighed internally with relief.

"I know you're not sleeping." Yara said, without even looking at you. She had bent down in front of the dresser taking out towels.

You turned your body away facing your back towards her, you don't want to talk.

"I'll clean you up." You heard her saying, her voice sounded like she was right behind you, standing next to the bed.

"I'll do it later."

"You've to clean it out if you don't want to give him what he wants." Her voice sounded more like she was concerned than like she was jealous as you thought before.

You turned to look at her. Why would she care?

"Fine." You said, trying to sit up. Your whole body felt sore and painful. She held you up, giving you support.

You looked in her eyes, there was no malice. Nor any emotions. It just felt like she pitied you.

She held your back up helping you walk towards the bathroom. The strength in your legs were yet to return. You could hardly walk. She almost carried you there. As you passed the mirror you glimpsed your reflection. You looked scared. Terrified.

You had never seen yourself like this. Not even when your parents died. Not even when you were kicked out of your own house by your own uncle.

How did you turn like this? Like a feeble piece made up of clay. You always have been the strong one. Made up of steel.

The hot water of the shower hits your body. Your whole body felt a wave of spark traveling from your toe to head. Yara turned off the shower after you were sufficiently drenched. She turned you facing herself.

"I can do it myself today." You said, stopping her hand as she tried to touch you.

She softly caressed your hair and then looked into your eyes.

"Let me help you." She whispered gently, almost sounding reassuring. But you know now. You cannot trust anyone. No one.

She took the handheld shower head in her hand. She sprayed it on her hand feeling the temperature before using it on you. The warm water made you flinch. But you resisted it. You cannot continue to be weak any more. No more.

She kneeled down in front of you, her fingers touching your thigh, going up slowly. Your legs trembled. You grabbed her shoulder to keep yourself from falling.

Why is your body like this? Why are you so weak like this?

"Breathe Y/n. Breathe deeply." Yara said. She didn't withdraw her hand but she stayed still.

"Please, don't." You begged softly. You couldn't. It felt too painful.

"Close your eyes. Feel my touch Y/n. I am not him. I'm not going to hurt you." After hearing her, you felt a bit reassured. You leaned back on the wall behind you, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. Slowly. Little by little.

She is not him. She is not going to hurt me. You thought. Your heart felt at ease. You felt like some of your strength returned back to you.

"Can I?" She asked, after making sure you were less tense than before.

You nodded your head, unsure if you're really fine with it. You could still feel Jaehyun's cum dripping out of you. Even thinking about it made you feel nauseous.

"You have to stay strong." She said, as she wet the towel.

You looked down at her. What's her motive behind this? But you pushed away the thought. At least she made me feel safe. That's all you wanted. You felt the wet warm towel wiping your inner thighs. You close your eyes, breathing deeply.

It's not him. It's not him. It's Yara. You repeat to yourself. You repeated until you made yourself believe it.

"I have to take it out." She looked up looking at you, waiting for your permission. You opened your eyes and looked down.

You could trust her, you said to yourself.

"Okay." You bit your lips. If it's her, it's going to be okay.

Her fingers delicately pushed the sticky fluid out of you. Her one hand rested on your waist.

It's okay. It's Yara. You repeated.

Very slowly and softly she cleaned you up till you felt there's nothing left of him inside you.

"Make him happy." She said all of a sudden as she stood up.

"What?" You asked, shocked by her sudden statement.

"Please him." She said, running her fingers over your shoulders.

"Make him lose his guard."

You took a deep breath, pushing the few strands of hairs behind your shoulder. You adjusted your dress as you walked forward ready to fight your own battle.

It's going to be alright, you thought.

You entered the main hall. I could see him sitting there, as you were told.

He was working on his laptop on the couch. He looked all serious and immersed just the way you noticed him for the first time.

His black hairs were slicked back exposing his stunning bone structures that glistened by the light illuminated from the light coming out of the laptop screen.

You took your next step very slowly. Your soft feet tiptoed landing very gently on the floor hardly making any noise.

Your eyes suddenly fell on the shadow of a person sitting in front of him. His face faced backwards to you. Unable to recognize his face you let the thought of him go. There weren't supposed to be any variables tonight. But you could never just hope things would go your way. Maybe it's better just to deny his existence tonight because he never mattered since the beginning. Tonight is about Jaehyun and you.

Jaehyun and you, you repeat to yourself.

He noticed you. The corner of his eye saw you walking towards his direction. He turned his head towards your direction looking straight into his eyes. His eyes stopped, like they froze in time. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. Not when you are standing in front of him willingly, looking so gorgeous, so beautiful.

You stood there stopped by his gaze. You were wearing a beautiful long white satin dress that draped around your body enunciating your perfectly sculpted self.

Your heart started beating crazily. His gaze churned your stomach. The way he held your eyes, it made your mind lose control. You clenched the sides of your dress, second guessing everything that you had thought for tonight. A part of you was screaming deeply inside asking you if you could really do it.

The man sitting in front of Jaehyun followed his gaze to see what held him looking so breathless, so vulnerable to show his feelings to an outsider. With just a glance he realised the situation. He smirked as he turned back to Jaehyun.

"Seems like you have company for the night. I should leave now." The man said to Jaehyun. The voice you've heard before. You couldn't figure it out but you were sure it was the voice of someone you knew.

Jaehyun's eyes, still boring on you, failed to acknowledge the man who stood up to leave. The man walked towards you, stopping in front of you. You could hardly see his face in the darkly lit room.

"Till next time Miss." He said, taking your hand. He kissed the back of your hand as his eyes checked you out quickly.

You noticed a scar under his right eye. It looked like a fully bloomed red rose. But you couldn't get a better look at his face.

After he left you looked back at Jaehyun. His eyes looked at you like he was waiting for you to explain the situation.

You took a deep breath and started taking soft steps towards his direction. You stood in front of him looking at him with a soft seducing gaze.

"Y/n..

"Shhh..." Your finger on his lips shushed him before he could ask anything. His eyes looked amused. Happy.

You lifted the slit of your white satin dress, slowly leaning on him. He sat on the couch manspreading widely, looking into your enchanting eyes like he has already been bewitched by you.

"Jae.." You whispered in his ears, straddling him on his lap. You settled both of your hands on his striking cheekbones. Your eyes meeting him.

"Baby." He hummed, his eyes now settling on your lips. You were breathing slowly. Looking at him in his eyes so close to you, you didn't know what to do anymore. You traced his forehead with your fingertip slowly going down feeling the tip of his nose to his lips. He closed his eyes, feeling your warmth on his skin. Looking at him, you really wondered if you really hated doing this?

You kissed him on the crook of his neck. He flinched by your sudden touch in a place where he didn't expect it to be.

"Mhmm doll." He moaned, your soft little touches on his skin irked for more. You left a little trail of wet kisses going down slowly.

You fingers unbuttoned his vest one by one taking your sweet time. Unable to control his urge to stop himself from having you within himself he wrapped his big muscular arm around you possessively pulling your whole body close to him so that he could feel you, could smell you in his arms, so close to him.

You felt something hard as you got rid of his vest. You smiled as you threw it on the ground. His hand went down grabbing your ass, squeezing it as you slowly teased his patience with your baby kitten licks on his neck torturously.

You pulled back from him now unbuttoning his shirt's button. It came out to be a challenge to you, unbuttoning a man's shirt is not one of the things that you're good at.

"Let me help you. " He said as his nose slightly brushed yours. Even the mere physical contact with you makes him go crazy. Crazy with the insatiable urge to have you all by himself. He unbuttoned his cuffs, his eyes still never leaving yours. He pulled out his tucked in shirt letting you finish the job that you started. He looked into your eyes waiting for your next step.

He didn't question you. Or stopped you. It was like a fairytale to him. Having you come to him. To love him. Even if it was a lie, even if it was an illusion he is ready to dive into the quicksand just for a moment of affection from you. He would be ready to relive hundreds of years just spend this time with you again. This is all he wanted, all he craved for, waiting patiently like he had planned before you decided to leave him, to run away from his life. He always wanted you to come to him, to tell him that you wanted him just like he did. But now seeing you wanting him, touching him, how could he deny you? How could he stop you? That can never be an option. Never in his whole life.

He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you softly. He didn't push you hard, he just continued sucking your lips very gently, very softly letting you lead the way.

His hand slowly unzipped the back of your dress, letting it drop down your shoulder. You let the straps go down undressing yourself in front of him, on his lap. You opened your eyes, your heart felt like it was beating like crazy.

You looked into his eyes, they were staring at you crazily, madly. It scared you. Like a haunted memory. You pulled back suddenly but regained yourself quickly.

Focus Y/n, you said to yourself.

You let a soft smile come out of your mouth to hide your quivering lips. You bend down on your knees between his legs. You let your hands slowly crawl between his thighs, your fingers touching his hard on.

"It must be hard working all day." You said, your fingers cupping him seductively, rubbing the cloth that was between your fingers and him.

"Doll." He moaned, breathing deeply. His hand grabbed your head from behind, bringing it closer to his hard self.

"I'll help you out." You kissed over his hard dick covered by his suit pants.

"Fuck Y/n. Fuck." He grunted restlessly, banging his tightened fist on the couch. It was obvious his whole body ached for your touch, for your mouth over him.

You unzipped his pants and took out his leaking dick. He was already completely hard. Your hands trembled. The dark room flashed across your eyes. Your hands went cold.

You breathed deeply. You couldn't lose your control now. Not after everything you've done till now.

Your long delicate fingers brushed his leaking tip softly massaging them as you went down. You inhaled deeply, it's not going to be easy. He was way too big to fit inside your mouth. You could barely put half of him before you choke yourself.

Your lips touched his tip. The sticky precum tasted salty. A little sweet.

"Please doll. Don't tease me." You hear him grunt, pushing your head from behind. Your mouth felt warm, wet. It felt good. He had never felt like this before. Your mouth was a blackhole, sucking him in deeper and deeper with each thrust. He closed his eyes, totally immersing in the pleasure that your beautiful little mouth was giving him. Every inch of him in your mouth aroused him like any primal beast in his heat

"Baby. Stop. Mhmm." He moaned, pulling your head back. His whole dick was aching with sensitivity. Even the slightest touch by you could make him cum so bad, so hard.

He pulled you up, his hands around your waist grabbing you passionately. His beautiful face was flushed with the tint of red. You could see how badly he was affected by you. He was breathing deeply. But his eyes were always on you, never once letting go of your gaze. He held your gaze like you would just disappear in thin air if he lost your sight. He settled you on the couch, your knees bending over it so that your body could just perfectly meet his mouth. He kissed your stomach ardently inhaling your scent desperately, his one hand holding you thigh and other your waist to stop you from falling down.

His mouth travelled down, kissing you just above your lacey panty. His wet hot sticky licks made your whole body shiver. It was so different from that time. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the need in his kisses. There was passion, you could feel it, not just some raw lust of an animal lusting for his mate.

The way he touched you, the way he was relishing you, it was different. His hands wrapped around you so sensuously that you had to bite your lips from moaning out loud. The wetness pooling between your legs was getting obvious. You couldn't deny the fact that his touches turned you on this bad. Just like him you also started to crave for his touch.

He pulled the panty down your legs, making his way down leaving a trail of his saliva. His lips finally meet you now throbbing centre. It was like his lips met their elixir. He dugged his mouth deep inside you, lapping every bit of wetness of your body. His soft thick lips licked your pussy, his teeth grazing against your clit as he tried harder to get deeper inside of you.

"Jae." You moaned, grabbing his head. His tongue stimulating your pussy inside out. The lewd sound that his mouth made when he sucked you, aroused you even more making you more wetter than before.

"Aahh mhmm..." You moaned out loud, unable to control yourself. Your body acted on its own. It started grinding on his tongue wanting to cum so badly. Your fingers grabbed his hairs tightly, thrusting your hips on his face frantically to make yourself cum. Your whole body convulsed, trying to run away from such intense stimulation.

"Please please let me go Jae." You begged breathlessly, your hips still grinding on his face.

He looked up at you finally pulling away just moments before you could cum. A vast disappointment spread between your legs as you missed the coming orgasm just by a few seconds.

His face emerged out of you, dripping wet by your juices. He smiled, looking happy for the first time you have ever witnessed.

Why is he smiling like this?

Y/n. Stop losing your focus. You said to yourself.

Your legs shaked as you tried to regain your own balance. His intense eating you out had made your legs go numb.

You pulled away breathing shallowly stumbling on your own to keep yourself from falling down the couch. He held your waist with his one hand. His other hand snaked upwards groping you bare breast.

"Take me to bed." You moaned, holding his shoulder to support yourself.

"I don't think I can control it for that long." He said picking you up so effortlessly.

He threw away his laptop and some papers that he was working on the ground which were previously laying on the table in front of him. He put you down there, his breathing ragged. He put you down there, his breathing ragged. He was breathing heavily as he leaned down on you ready to get inside you. This was all he ever wished for. Just you and him. Together. Embracing each other crazily with your warmth. He inhaled your scent. The soft scent of the lavender body wash could barely mask the scent of you, the scent of you desire.

He held your head turning your face to look at him, into his eyes. They looked deep, starved. He bought you closer, kissing every inch of your face little by little.

His lips crept on yours, slowly pushing all of him in that kiss. Everything he felt, everything he desired. He poured all in. His eyes looking at you he breathed deeply.

"Oh God doll you make me go fucking insane." He growled, his hands going down pulling your waist closer to him.

"Why?" You breathe in his face, smelling the musky cinnamon taste of his breath.

He looked at you, surprised by your question. But he was more than happy to answer you. This was the first time you ever asked him something about him? Something that matters to him.

"You saved me Y/n. You saved my life." He said, his forehead touching yours.

"When did I do that?" You asked him, breaking the contact away from him.

"You don't know you don't have to." He looked up at you. He looked at you like someone took the life support out of him. Like taking away the oxygen from him.

"Tell me." You said softly, wrapping your hand around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours just enough so that you could look into his eyes when he tells the truth to you.

"Your words saved me. The notes that you sent when you worked at the cafeteria down the street from our office." He was still breathing heavily, his words sounded as if saying those words made him go back in time, reliving that dreadful time again. His voice felt painful, hurt. You pulled closer, making him look into your eyes. You wanted to know if it was all a lie or if he was telling the truth.

"What notes?" You pushed him more, this time your eyes meeting each other.

"Yes, the little notes that always said not to find up. Not to lose hope." He smiled when he looked into your eyes. Like he found his peace. Like he overcame the darkness within him. His breathing softened, relieved to have you still by his side.

"I wrote those for everyo..." You remember that time. You don't remember even knowing him back then. You were young back then, full of life, full of positivity that you wanted to share to others.

"Shush. I don't care. All that matters is you." He stopped you before you could complete what he wanted to say. He knew the truth too, he was just too afraid to hear it out from you. He doesn't want to believe in the truth, it doesn't matter as long as you're next to him.

You didn't know what to say to him, you couldn't understand him. Those meaningless scribbles that you wrote long back, how could they save someone? It all felt like a lie. Everything. It couldn't be possible. You haven't even seen him come to the cafe personally, it was always his bodyguards. You couldn't have cared more if you knew it was going to someone else.

"That's why I can't let you go. I'll die if you leave me." He said at last, pulling you back to him, only to him. You belong to him. His lips landed on yours for a moment.

"Let's go to bed." He said, picking you up between his arms.

You were still processing his words. Every single of his words. Why would he say that? That he'll die if you leave him. It can't be true.

You felt yourself landing on the soft mattress of the bed. The train of thought stops abruptly as you meet his gaze. His eyes looked softer, vulnerable. As if his deep secrets are out now, as if he was scared to get abandoned by you.

You didn't know what drove you at that moment but cupped his face with your hands and pulled his face closer to you, kissing him. This was the first time you kissed him tonight, on your own will. You had to do this. To save yourself. To save yourself from him.

You crawled on top of you kissing you deeply, madly, passionately. Hungry for each breath you take, each second that you spend close with him.

His hips started slowly rocking on yours. You wrapped your legs around his hips pressing his hard dick closer to you throbbing wet pussy.

His lips strayed kissing you messily in your neck, not thinking straight, not able to see anymore. All he wanted was your love, your touch, you.

He slowly pushed himself in, getting inside of you slowly. His free hand groped your breast, moulding them to stop himself from going too crazy on you. His fingers played with your hard erect nipples, stimulating them to sensitivity as he pounded you inside.

You moaned softly, your back arching as he explored the deeper places inside of you.

"I love you Y/n." He moaned. His thrust was soft and slow. He was relishing the moment, living the time slowly so that it would never end. Your fingers wrapped around his neck, your nails digging into his skin marking them red with his own blood.

"I love you so bad doll." He continued. His lips went back to yours. Both of you were breathing deeply, looking into each other's eyes searching for entirely different things.

It was already midnight when you guys were finished. Your whole body ached. You could feel him all over you. His scent. His essence. He was everywhere. You pressed your fingers more deeper as he thrusted harder. Blood sipped out of his neck but it didn't matter. Each scar you give to him, is like a trophy for him to keep.

He was sleeping next to you. His arms wrapped around you as he slept carefreely knowing that you are with him, secure in his arms.

"Jae." You called him.

There was no response.

Jaehyun." You called again, just to make sure. You could feel his peaceful breathing, his gentle heart beat that was beating crazily this whole evening.

He is asleep. Now is the time, you thought.

You pulled yourself out from his warm embrace, tip toeing softly as you walked out of the room. You looked back glancing at his sleeping face before you closed the door behind you, making sure you locked it before you turned back to the room where it all began.

You saw the dress you wore laying on the ground along with his clothes shattered around.

You walked quickly picking up his vest.

It must be here. You felt it when you were undressing him earlier this evening. It has to be here.

You searched the inside pocket as you felt something hard. It was a card. A key to be more specific, as you were told by Yara.

It was the key to all of the doors in this whole villa. There's only three keys and one of them was with Jaehyun. But not anymore. It's yours now.

You put on the dress quickly ready to leave. You walked towards the room hurriedly, towards your freedom finally.

You pressed the key on the pad. You heard the door beeping as it opened.

Bang.

A loud deafening voice made your head go numb. You turned back only to meet the eyes of Jaehyun. Your eyes fell on his eyes.

Fear crept in your heart. You head banging crazily. You were scared.

Your eyes looked down, you could see a pool of blood gathering slowly where you were standing. Your head felt light.

The sharp excruciating pain hit your leg so hard, making you realise the truth.

You looked back at him, still not believing he could do this to you.

His eyes looked back at you. They looked scared but not regretful. He didn't regret what he just did.

You felt nauseous, your head blanked out. It was all dark.

P.S. - Soooooo this is not the end. I'll return soon

Adios till then. Thank you for patience and time everyone. 💚

And take care.

😊

[seodami]

Train to you | CBG

Genre: ANGST, tiny bit fluff in between

Warning: !!!!!! death, suicide, dark thoughts, 1 tiny curse word !!!!!!!

Word count: 3417

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x reader (GN)

Note: well well well this was ANGSTY gdhsj it’s the first real angst I’ve attempted to write and I cried so...either I am too absorbed into the story or it really is sad haha. Please don’t read this if you have trouble with sensitive topics like these, yet anyone else who dares enjoy :))))

Main Masterlist

You cursed under your breath as you hastily ran up the cold Beton stairs, two steps at a time, trying not to collapse until you at least reached the incoming train. You were late again for work and you could already hear your boss screaming at you for being late the third time this week. It wasn’t fully your fault, you thought in your defence, remembering your defect alarm clock, the emergency call of your friend Soobin and the bottle of wine the previous day. Yes, definitely not your fault this train always leaves this early in the morning.

Lucky for you, the train was still at the platform, signalising the doors were about to close. You quickly squeezed yourself through the door before it was too late and to your surprise, there even were a few seats left. Still panting heavily, you plopped down on a vacant seat while trying to catch your breath. You used your red cardigan to pat away the sweat on your forehead.

It wasn’t until the train slowly started moving, that you caught a glimpse of an all to familiar cardigan outside on the other side of the platform. It was a brown haired boy, who was wearing the exact same clothing piece as you. And the longer you’ve watched him, you noticed that in fact his whole outfit was the same as yours today. Black jeans, red cardigan, black converse and a silver necklace.

You gasped at the boy, trying to not lose him as the train sped up but failed of course. Soon he was way out of sight and reach for you. You felt a weird tuck on your heart. Disappointed. You wanted to look at him just a tad longer.

The boy never left your mind for too long this day, always staying in your memory to be recalled back. He was wearing the same outfit as you, sure it could have been pure coincidence and you knew this world was probably smaller than it seemed but nevertheless, you found it fascinating. It was the first time this ever happened to you.

The next day, you managed to wake up earlier for once, having slept only a little, mind too clouded with everything and nothing at the same time. You were surprisingly excited to go take the train this morning. You didn’t want to tell yourself that it was because you wanted to see the stranger once more. So you nearly ran upstairs, without really needing to hurry, and there you saw him on the other side again.

He wore the same outfit as you again. A beige coat, black turtleneck, blue jeans and a black beret. You didn’t expect this at all, leaving you baffled. Sure, it must have been a coincidence again. But why was he so captivating for you?

You didn’t know how long you just stood there, looking at him and his face, oh his very pretty face. You wanted him to notice you. Just one look maybe? One tiny glance? It would do your strangely beating heart some justice. But he seemed like he was in his own world, smiling up in the sky, eyes slowly following the steady floating clouds.

You asked yourself if he took notice in you as well but soon came to the conclusion that he had not as the train arrived right on time.

You decided to test your outfit theory right the next day, being way too giddy to see the good looking stranger again. Luckily you still had some extremely ridiculous and questionable clothing pieces you buried in the back of your closet, not being all too happy to see your failed purchases again. You made a mental note to donate some of them later on.

You couldn’t hold back a snort when your eyes met yours in the mirror against your closet door. Why exactly were you humiliating yourself again? The pink baggy pants hung low on your hips, paired together with the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. To top it off, you wore your long cheetah print fur coat with a blue collar and you couldn’t resist putting on your red bucket hat. This must do it. If the stranger still happened to wear the exact same outfit as you, you knew it had to be more than coincidence.

And just like that, you found yourself staring at the boy with wide open mouth, gaining weirded out looks from bystanders. He wore it. The same. Your mind was racing with thoughts and possible explanations but you cannot seem to find any. How was this possible? You thought of it as a joke at first but now...you didn’t know what the hell was going on. Were you slowly getting insane? Was he your stalker? But how could he even then have the same ridiculous clothes as you? Maybe he was some kind of soulmate? It sounded hilarious and absolutely mad but so was this situation.

It was short - maybe a split second - and your eyes met. Subconsciously you stepped closer towards the stranger, nearly ignoring the huge gap between you two. He saw you. It almost hit all the air out of you. There was something so familiar about him. Something so...so...unexplainable.

Suddenly your view got blocked and something roughly pulled you back, that you nearly fell right on your butt. Confused, you looked up just to see a mid aged man with a pair of round glasses on his nose. There was a disapproving look on his face, helping you stand straight again.

“Miss, you need to watch out. The train could have hit you.” His voice was stern, making you gasp in realisation with the train slowly coming to a stop in front of you. You really just forgot that you were on a train station. All you thought about was him. About going to him. You just wanted to know his name, having another conversation just between your eyes.

You quickly apologised and thanked the man before stepping inside the train, eyes searching for him. But he wasn’t there anymore. Your heart suddenly hurt - more than before. It was so strong. Where was he? You wanted to see him.

It was that moment when you realized you somehow, not knowing the reason, longed for this person. It was such a deep feeling, you never felt such a strong emotion before in your life. You wanted to cry.

Just as the doors were about to close, you caught a glimpse of a red hat and cheetah print coat right outside, where you just stood seconds before. You didn’t think much, you stood up running towards the door, frantically pushing the opening button again and again, but the doors were already closed. So so close. He was so close. But you couldn’t reach him. Why had you to enter this stupid train? He was right out there looking at you with these big brown eyes. It hurt your soul. He was so pretty. Oh you longed for one touch, one word. Why can’t you be with him?

Your hands were pressed against the cold glass, eyes never leaving his enchanting ones. But the train was already moving. It was too late.

A hand on your shoulder suddenly tore you out of your miserable state. Your heart was hurting so much by now. Why was it hurting so unbearably? “Is everything okay?” A woman with a child on her hand smiled at you sympathetically, offering you a warm hug after she saw the thick tears in your eyes, soon streaming down your warm cheeks.

Why felt it so thorning just to be with him? Why felt it like you just missed your only chance to ever meet him?

“It’s going to be okay.” The woman muttered under her breath, gently rubbing your back. “You are strong.”

The next day you woke up even earlier, almost not finding sleep at all that night. This feeling of lost and utterly sadness and hurt. You felt it ever since he was so close. Ever since you almost were by his side. This feeling never left you.

Today you felt just weak and so exhausted. You didn’t have the energy to go to work but you needed to see him again. One last time?

A white shirt with a pink sweater vest on top and a pair of loose white pants were your fit for today. Your mind wandered to the brown eyed boy as you chose the colourful item out of your wardrobe. It reminded you strangely of him.

With heavy heart, this time you trotted up the stairs, surprisingly noticing not a single soul at the platform. No one but him on the other side. You let out a sigh, you didn’t know you were holding. He was still here. You could’ve hit yourself with the realization that it was in fact Saturday, meaning you didn’t need to go to work today. It was silly of you, but deep down you still would’ve come for him. Only for him.

This time your eyes met immediately and your heart beat picked up. He gave you a bright smile and a tiny wave of his hand, making you nearly choke on air. He looked so pretty in the pink sweater vest, you were absolutely right. His hand was moving again, showing you to come over to him.

You gulped nervously. This was your time. No one would come between you this time. No life saving strangers, no wine bottles, no defect alarm clocks and definitely no trains. Without wasting any more time, now having found a sudden boost of energy, you sprinted down the stairs again, almost tripping over your own feet. You were gonna meet him. Finally.

When you reached the other side of the platform, you frantically looked around, searching for him. But he wasn’t there. You were standing right where he stood. You glanced over at the other side, where you were just coming from, seeing him standing there peacefully still with a smile on his face. He looked ethereal. The sun was on his side, making him glow in a heavenly way, you haven’t seen before. His brown fluffy hair was sweeping softly with the wind and his deep brown eyes sparkled with hope.

Suddenly it was as if your head hit a solid brick wall. Beomgyu. His name was Choi Beomgyu. Beombeom. Your dear Beombeom. How could you ever have forgotten him? The pain in your heart was now as strong as never before. You wanted to die, it was that painful. You fell onto the ground, clutching your heart desperately. Of course.

It was so contradicting. Hot tears were streaming down your face by now, the unbearable pain getting worse every second, yet Beomgyu seemed so peaceful, so calming and so sweet. You needed him for your heart to heal. He was the reason you were here. You needed him by your side.

He smiled and waved you over once again. He was waiting for you. You needed to get to him. With heavy breathing, you heaved yourself up one last time. You couldn’t just give up like that. “Beomgyu...” you screamed with all your energy, sobbing in pain. It was a heart wrenching moment to witness. Beomgyu on the other side nodded smiling, his eyes glistening as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

You couldn’t bear this pain anymore and started running. Right on the rail. You couldn’t care less at that moment. You needed Beomgyu.

You jumped down the ditch onto the track. You were almost there. Just a few more steps and you could touch him. Your heart was getting warmer and warmer. It felt so nice. So comforting. So familiar.

It all seemed to go so well but then it all happened so fast. It went wrong so fast. You could see Beomgyus hand reaching out for yours, just mere centimetres away. Then there was a bright light. A loud noice inside your ears, a shrill scream and an insufferable pain inside your head. It only lasted a split second and then everything was black. The last thing you’ve heard was Beomgyus warm voice calling your name. Then there was nothing.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The next thing you remembered was a bright white light. Then there was a steady peeping noice. And lastly an extreme sterile scent. You already hated it. You longed for the same warmth you felt before, when you were about to be with him.

The first thing you remembered was coughing. Extremely harsh coughing. It was like you were coughing out your soul. You heard more voices, slowly getting clearer to hear, and saw shapes forming behind the bright light.

“Y/N, Y/N honey yn darling do you hear me? Y/N?” Y/N... that was your name. Right? You felt something soft yet ice cold touch for face, something wet touching your nose. Your mom, you thought. It was your mother’s voice.

Before you could realize anything, there were other voices, strange and familiar ones. As you finally could make up semi clear shapes, your eyes met a pair of circular glasses. A brighter light than before was now shining directly into your eyes but soon enough vanished again. You were still coughing.

“Y/N oh my gosh darling, honey, you are back. You made it.” You heard your mother cry besides you, grasping your weak arm as if it was her lifebuoy. “Thank you thank you thank you”

“Miss Y/L/N? Can you hear me?” A mid aged man behind the glasses asked you. You’ve barely managed to open your eyes and look around you, eyes meeting your mothers wet ones. A sob escaped her lips. Beside her you could make out a mob of pink hair. Your brother.

“Miss Y/L/N? Everything is all right. Very good.” A nurse in baby blue clothes spoke gently to you, as you started to gain back some control over your own breathing. You noticed something big inside your mouth, surpressing the urge to cough or vomit it out.

“One second Miss Y/L/N, I will now remove your breathing tube. It won’t hurt, just relax.” She patted your arm and made her way towards your face. A breathing tube? After a few moments you felt a weird sensation inside your throat as if something was pulled out. You immediately started coughing again once the tube was removed but slowly getting a hold of it again.

Yeonjun kneeled down besides your mother, gently taking your hand in his warm one. It was sort of comforting. He had tears in his eyes, eye bags clearly visible on both your mother’s and brothers face. What was going on? Why were they crying?

“All right there, here we go. Welcome back Miss Y/L/N, how are you feeling? Good?” You wanted to say something, your head still spinning, but could only make a hoarse sound, feeling just how sore your throat must have been.

“It’s okay you don’t need to answer yet. You still have a very sore throat due to the Intubation we had to put you through.” The man, you assumed doctor from his white coat, explained you patiently. You managed to nod but you were still trying to figure out the situation. You were more than confused. Why were you here and where was Beomgyu?

You tried speaking again but just a very strained “What-“ could be deciphered, followed by some coughing again. You were feeling weaker than ever and everything hurt.

The doctor nodded sympathetically, already knowing what you were about to ask. Your eyes wandered wordlessly to your brother’s and mom’s. They looked so hurt, yet relieved.

“Let me explain. You must have a lot of questions right now. We take everything slowly, alright?” You nodded again, Yeonjun slightly squeezing your hand. “You just woke up from a four week lasting coma as you previously had been rushed into hospital after a collision with a train.”

You noticed your mother sob harder than before, your brother gently laying an arm over her shoulder. “You tried to kill yourself Y/N...” Yeonjun whispered, heart breaking once more. It all came flooding back at once. Your head hurt at the sudden heavy feeling growing inside your breast, overtaking your heart in just seconds. You felt devestating.

Tears welled up in your eyes, remembering what you did, what you wanted so dearly and why you did it. You remembered the last seconds on the platform you were standing so often with Beomgyu, where he held you tight in his arms, where he softly told you he loved you, where you shared your first loving kiss and you both laughed afterwards at how clumsy you were being. And lastly, it was the place where Beomgyu died, where he found his bitter end at the tender age of 22.

Anger bubbled up inside you, remembering how he had died. He wanted to visit you with a beautiful bouquet of yellow flowers, as beautiful as him himself. You just aced your last exam of the semester, wanting nothing more than celebrate with your boyfriend of over two years. It had been your fault, hadn’t you just failed the exam, things would have been different. He wouldn’t have gotten to you by train at this hour, the drunk man wouldn’t have started a fight with him and Beomgyu wouldn’t have been pushed onto the tracks just before a train came rushing by. Beomgyu would have still lived. He would be with you on the couch, legs intertwined, stealing small kisses now and then and probably also a few bites of your snack. But something deep inside you told you that he still would have visited you, maybe to be there for you or maybe to just give you a hug.

Your heart stung painfully inside your chest. You wanted to forget again. You wanted to pull your damn heart out of your chest and throw it on these stupid train tracks. You hated how much it hurt.

You wanted to end it there. You’ve remembered it as clear as daylight. A life without Beomgyu seemed so impossible for you, you never could heal without him. He owned your heart and it was impossible to live without a heart. So you jumped. You were so sure. Even wrote letters for all your friends and family, the last one for Beomgyu, probably still laying on his grave stone. But why didn’t you make it? Why couldn’t you reunite with him? You saw him so clearly on the other side, dressed in his favorite pink sweater vest. Why had it to be him? He was so full of love.

“Beomgyu...” you whispered, painful sobs now tearing your heart apart once again. Yeonjun and your mother rushed to hug you as tight as they could, never leaving your side and crying with you.

This day wasn’t a day joy or freedom, no. It was far from that. It was a terrible, hurtful day. You missed Beomgyu more than ever before. You realized he was gone for good. And you were here.

But it was also a day full of comfort and understanding. You still thought about Yeonjuns quiet words besides your ear.

“I miss Beomgyu so fucking much as well. He didn’t deserve to go that early, I know. And it’s not your fault YN, remember that. He still loves you so so much and he is here with you, with us, every second. He didn’t want you to go from us that early as well, he protected you YN.” His hand payed over his heart, eyes fixated on yours, showing you how he meant every single word.

You nodded, your tears never ending. Yeonjun hugged you again. He firmly believed that Beomgyu saved you, so you believed it as well. He wouldn’t want you to end your life that easily, that pathetically while mourning over someone, who was instantly dead in just a split second. It wasn’t fair, no, it would never be.

And Beomgyu showed you in his own way that he not only loved you deeply and will forever, he also teaches you so much in life: joy, love, anger, sadness, overwhelming sadness and how to live life the fullest.

He will always be in your heart, no matter how much time will go by, and you will be forever thankful towards the brown eyed boy, who taught you how to love, live and leave. Your dear Beombeom.

[theunderdogwrites]

In Defense of Marilyn Manson

Just kidding.

This is another one of those ‘if you live under a rock, you might not know what is going on’ pieces. But because this story appears to be unfolding daily, I’d think you’ve heard a murmur here or there even if you haven’t really paid too much attention to it because for many, I think this may fall into the “that guy has been a messed-up weirdo for years so I’m not surprised” category.

Please note that in NO WAY I am making fun of this situation, but I learned a long time ago that I require a certain amount of humor to be able to digest much of what this world presents to me.

As always, let me give you the Coles Notes version with the hopes you will go and do your own reading as well.

On February 1 actress Evan Rachel Wood posted this on her Instagram:

"The name of my abuser is Brian Warner, also known to the world as Marilyn Manson. He started grooming me when I was a teenager and horrifically abused me for years. I was brainwashed and manipulated into submission. I am done living in fear of retaliation, slander or blackmail. I am here to expose this dangerous man and call out the many industries that have enabled him, before he ruins any more lives. I stand with the many victims who will no longer be silent."

Quick history lesson – They started dating in 2007 when she was 18 and he was 34 and were engaged for a brief time in 2010.

This was Manson’s response to what she wrote:

"Obviously, my art and my life have long been magnets for controversy, but these recent claims about me are horrible distortions of reality. My intimate relationships have always been entirely consensual with like-minded partners. Regardless of how - and why - others are now choosing to misrepresent the past, that is the truth."

Since the original statement on February 1 a number of women have come forward with stories of their own ranging from physical and emotional abuse to human trafficking. And everyday something new is revealed. Evan Rachel Woods is feverishly posting on her Insta-Story and is slowly burying Manson in an ocean of consequences. She isn’t “fired up” or “a woman scorned”, she is a victim rising above the shame she has felt and the fear of what others will say about her to tell her story and encourage others to do the same. She is the voice that started the ball rolling. The ball that is about to crush Marilyn Manson.

Whenever I write stuff that is currently being heavily featured in the media, I always dive into articles so I can get as much information as possible. But more importantly, I plunge my sensitive little soul into the murky depths known as “the comments section”. I do this because unlike those polished, finished pieces the comments section will give you a better idea of what your fellow human beings think and feel about the topic at hand. And it is never polished or even polite. And often not for the faint at heart. In case you didn’t already know – people can be quite terrible.

The comments section is the modern-day gladiator pit. Only most (not all) of the participants are not ripped, athletic warriors but rather drooling basement dwellers with one hand down their pants (not gender specific by the way) and the other hand maltreating the letters on their keyboard.

Side note: Look, I am not the grammar police as I often just push past all the warnings from the Gestapo editing program in Microsoft Word. BUT I know the value of proper spelling, well placed punctuation and valid attempts to appear smarter than a domesticated turkey by making sure sentences are well-thought out and complete. Raising your argument doesn’t mean USING ALL CAPS AND ABUSING THESE THINGS -> !!!

I just deleted three paragraphs going over the recent “reckoning” that has taken place in the past few years with regards to sexual and physical abuse accusations against (mostly) men in positions of some kind of power. I eliminated all that writing because I started to tumble off topic. I’m not writing about all the dicks now getting their comeuppance, but rather the reactions to it being Marilyn Manson’s turn in the chamber.

Victim shaming is sadly a real thing.

The easiest way I can explain this to you – if a person gets pickpocketed and then blamed because they should’ve known better than to carry their wallet in their back pocket.

Evan Rachel Woods and others have come out to accuse Manson of some pretty appalling acts of abuse and what I’ve found to be the biggest reaction is, “How did they not know he was a bad guy? His music is so graphic and they thought it was all an act? Why did they stay so long?”. As innocent as those questions might seem, and I say that because our brains don’t always serve us or others well, it is a form of discrediting those women. Let’s be honest here… it’s hard to look at Marilyn Manson and his art form and not say, “What the fuck, this guy has bad idea written all over him!”. I feel that is a perfectly reasonable response, but that is where it should end. I think it is fair to pause and attempt to understand the choices of others, but it’s heartless to minimize their experience by placing blame on them for a situation we couldn’t possibly understand if it has never happened to us.

And like I’ve quoted before: People only understand from their level of perception. But that doesn’t stop them from laying on the judgement and damaging already fragile individuals with their inability to show compassion for a fellow human being. Reading through comment sections isn’t just maddening, it’s disappointing and sad but also a real look into how awful many people feel about themselves… to the point where they seem to derive some pleasure or satisfaction from condemning a rape victim for wearing a short skirt and getting drunk.

So… we have to touch on this to be balanced: innocent until proven guilty. Only these days it’s an automatic trial by media with the public acting as judge, jury and executioner. This is where “cancel culture” steps in and within days can destroy an entire career / life. I am not a fan of cancel culture. It does not give people a chance to learn from their mistakes or make amends as it immediately harms their very existence. Often times even before any proof has surfaced. I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous this is… the fact that just an accusation could ruin your life.

Let me make this clear: if someone comes forward and claims they’ve been sexually assaulted/abused, they need to be taken seriously and not dismissed based upon the circumstances, their gender identity, the color of their skin, their economic position or profession or the person they’re accusing. In turn, the individual being accused should be given time to address the claims before the public begins demolishing their life.

A reoccurring comment in almost all these cases where someone comes forward and alleges abuse YEARS after it happened, is – “Why did they wait so long to come forward?”.

Is this a fair question? Sure. And I feel it is asked because our brain needs to find a way to understand the information we are being given. Because while we’d all like to think that if in the same situation we’d be unfuckable with and anyone who dared to bring damage to our doorstep would immediately suffer the consequences, we actually cannot predict our reaction. There are too many unknown variables to be able to confidently say we’d instantly speak up and seek retribution.

The fear of not being believed. The fear of being blamed. The fear of rejection. The fear of retaliation from the person being accused. The fear of being forever defined by your experience. The fear.

It does not matter the why, what matters is the chance they’ve taken by speaking up at all. Those who come forward should be embraced, not ridiculed. Not abandoned. Not criticized.

“Don’t ask why victims wait so long to speak up. Ask what systems were in place to keep them quiet”. Anonymous

I own a few Marilyn Manson CD’s. And I’ve even attended one of his concerts. Would I say I am a fan? Probably a number of years ago I was but truthfully, I’ve not paid attention to any of his music in recent years because I feel it devolved while my taste evolved. That’s not a slam against him or anyone who fancies his work, it’s more a statement on how I’ve matured and now seek out music that feels authentic to me.

The one concert I attended was opened by Courtney Love. I know, what a duo to pay money to see. Near the end of Manson’s set he made a disparaging remark about Love and trashed her music. At the time he was wearing some pretty hefty platform shoes so it made it all the more hilarious when from out of nowhere she charged like a rhino and tackled him to the stage; throwing punches at his head all the way down. When he finally was able to get up, he announced the show was over. There would be no encore and then him and his bandmates trashed the stage in a temper tantrum worthy of a toddler Napoleon. Still makes me laugh to this day.

Shoutout to Evan Rachel Wood and her most recent movie ‘Kajillionaire’. Watched it on demand about a month ago and it’s a brilliant comedy that will also pull at your heart. I highly recommend you give it a chance.

Check out the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiMPCevu8Wk

[fireheartfaery]

Day 7: “You’re a bad liar did you know?”

masterlist; my links

college AU

TW: panic attacks, mentions of anxiety

Yrene is late. Again. In her twenty three years of life she has strived to be as punctual as her aunt, early by exactly three minutes. But in the last week, with finals looming over her like the death towers they used to sneak into in their teens, she has pulled all-nighters that haven't quite managed to turn into all-dayers. In short she's exhausted, and so is her alarm. Which is why, at 8:02 in the morning she stands in the line at their university café, waiting rather impatiently for her turn at the counter. Her foot taps on the ground, unconsciously, fingers drumming on folded arms. Calculations and anatomy are spinning in her brain as she visualizes the huge whiteboard covered in notes above her bed. Strategically placed their in case gaining information by osmosis may suddenly become a thing and she can actually get smarter in her sleep.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and with an irritated frown she whips it out.

How are you feeling? Chaol's name flashes across the screen.

She smiles as she slides the screen open and types out a reply to her best friend. Like if i don’t get a liter of coffee i’m going to keel over and die.

He sends wide eyed emojis, please don't drink a liter of coffee. You will die.

hey, She laughs at his worry. Always worrying. who's supposed to be the doctor here? Me or you?

Before she can read his reply a throat is clearing behind her, and a hand is waving in her peripheral vision.

She looks up and realizes there's no-one in front of her. She's holding up the line. Her cheeks burn like coal as she stumbles to the counter. "I'll uh, I'll have my usual." Why is her heart beating so fast? "Large black with a dash of hazelnut."

"Sure, is that all?"

She cannot even breathe, the scratchy fabric of her polo neck is tightening around her neck. "Yes thanks!" She chokes out, laying far too many notes on the counter and dashing out.

Air, the colour of glaciers and mirror fragments, snaps at her skin. She let's it. Her breathing, erratic and struggling fogs, up the pretty world. She sinks to the floor, back grazing the rough brick of the coffee shop. The world is moving in and out of focus. Toffee being stretched and molded around her throat.

A hand lands on her knee.

"Hey," The voice is gentle. It sounds like a muffled echo in her ears. "My name is Mor. I think you're having a panic attack. Is there something I can do to help?"

Yrene looks up, she sees blonde waves and pretty brown. Her throat tightens. She's definitely not breathing. Where has the world gone?

"Okay i’m going to ask you to do something for me." That voice is still so soft. Sweet like her aunt's candied apples.

"Can you try to take a deep breath for me." If she was listening she would have scoffed. "And while you do that I want you to point out five things you can see." There's a beat. "Can you do that?"

She wants to ask how she's supposed to talk when her lungs have been squished like grapes. They will not make flavourful wine.

"Just point with your finger." Mor says.

Yrene sucks in a breath. It is as shaky as a smoker's hands.

She points her index finger at the woman in front of her.

"One." The blonde says.

She points to the ground; can feel the cool under her nails.

"Two."

Her finger catches on the book that had spilled from her bag when she collapsed against the wall.

"Three."

She looks at the sky. It is grey. It is there. She points.

"Four." The quiet smile on her golden lips is back. "Just one more."

Yrene wants to point to her ribcage. To show it isn't expanding. She is going to die. She points to the necklace hanging around her throat instead, the owl pendant warm from her skin.

"Five." Mor holds her hands. She cannot feel the heat radiating of her skin. She cannot feel anything. "Can you tell me four things you can touch?“

She is faster this time. Confused, but clearing. The wool of her jumper. The sunshine locks of the girl in front of her. The fluffy keychain Elide had got her at the start of the year. The plant stubbornly growing out of the sidewalk.

"Three things you can hear?"

Her voice is croaky, strangled in a way she hasn't heard before. She uses it anyway. Because she can.

"The bell above the coffee shop." It tinkles in acknowledgment. Students walk out laughing. "The cars on the road." There's an expensive car in the midst of traffic. She can hear it's soft purr. "My breathing." It is loud and full of life in her ears. She is grateful.

"Two things you can smell?"

She takes a breath, let's the university fill up her body. "The melting snow. It smells like rain puddles, muddy and dirty and fun to play in."

"One more?"

“You." Her senses are all over the place. Her common sense has disappeared entirely. "You smell like cinnamon, and the faintest hint of soap."

The laugh is enough to settle the last of Yrene's frazzled nerves. It is bright and full and carries happiness like a bouquet. She settles, heart rate slowing, lungs expanding, contracting, skin feeling the first nips of cold once more.

"Does that mean you like the way I smell?" The blonde grins, squeezing their still joined hands.

She thinks about it for a second. "Yes." Her earth brown eyes collide with Mor's caramel gaze. "I think I do."

"Can you give me one thing you can taste?"

Yrene knows she's lost it when the first thing that's pops into her mind is the woman's lips. She shuts her eyes to the thought, feeling her bones sludge inside her. Everything aches. She's held herself up for so long.

"How about this?"

The bitter smell of coffee wafting between faint hazelnut greets her. She opens her eyes to see her order dangling between slender fingers. Taking the cup, she tips its back, letting the hot liquid spill down her throat. It warms her from the inside. It burns away the dregs of the panic, hiding in the folds of her. Waiting.

When the cup is drained she looks to Mor, who is sitting their patiently, observing the world.

"How did you know to do that?"

"I suffer from panic attacks and anxiety attacks. It works for me." She shrugs as if it is not a constant and exhausting force. "Also," A bright smile takes over her face, "I'm a psychology major."

"Can I book you as my therapist when you graduate?"

There's that laughter again. The one that lights up all her insides. "I have a while to go before I get to qualified therapist status."

"Really?" Yrene frowns, "How long does it take?"

"I have to get my masters before I can practice."

"Wow," Her mind is a little blown. The med students are so cut off from the rest of the faculties- maybe by choice, maybe by design- that learning about other degrees always blows her away. Just the other day Feyre was telling her about the art students and the portfolios they have to submit. She can't imagine sitting down to pick a topic and then pouring your heart and soul into it. Med school made sense. There was no grey slate, at least for the most part. This is where the ulna is. This is how to tie off your suture. This formula tells you how to blow up the lab. The last one had been an honest miskate... the first time.

"Do you think you can stand?" Mor gets up, as graceful as a flamingo, and then offers a hand.

Yrene takes it without hesitation. She marvels at the contrast between her earth brown skin and Mor's burnt gold. The richest colours in the world. The ones that glow under the sun.

"Can I walk you to your dorm?"

"I have to get to class. If I rush I can be there for the second half of the double."

"Uh," She winces, looking at the hello kitty watch on her wrist. "It's been an hour?"

Her eyes widen to the size of planets. "It's been what?" Her voice is high pitched. "Oh gods oh gods oh gods. What if I missed the exam briefing? What if prof said something vital? What if—"

"Hey!" Mor clamps down on her shoulder, turns her so they're facing each other. Yrene only slightly shorter. "You were in no state to go to class. You still aren't. You should go to your dorm and rest. Maybe eat some carbs. Is there anyone who can take notes for you? And relay information?"

She frowns, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Well I guess Rowan is in that class, and Nesta."

"They will help you?"

She nods. She breathes.

"Wonderful." Mor smiles. It's is pretty enough that Yrene sees stars. "Then we'll walk to your dorm and I'll make sure you're settled with some chamomile tea and some cheese sandwiches and then I'll go to my own classes."

They start walking, sludgy snow squelching under their boots.

"Won't you be late for class?"

The blonde just grins. She decides not to ask.

"You know I don't know your name?"

"Guess," It's her turn to be all mysterious and cheeky.

Mor looks at her closely, eyes traveling unashamedly from the top of her screwed curls to the tops of her black wellingtons.

"Irene."

She stumbles over herself. Looks at the woman alongside her. There isn’t enough oxygen in the world for her gasp of shock. "That's not it."

The blonde scrunches her nose in amusement. "“You’re a bad liar did you know?”

She sticks out her tongue. "How did you..."

"My friends call me Truth-Speaker."

"That's creepy." She raises a brow. It just makes Mor grin wider. "It's Yrene with a Y not an I."

"Pretty," She mumbles. "My full name is Morrigan."

"Pretty." She echoes. "Hey, you want to come drink chamomile tea and eat carbs with me?“

The blonde clasps their hands together beaming at the leaking blue sky.

"I'd love nothing more, Yrene."

She sees, touches, hears, smells, and tastes the happiness that clings to them as they step into the dorm.

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

When i originally thought up the idea for this Mor was supposed to be the new barista and Yrene the regular and they would meet-embarrassing when Mor gets the order wrong. Do not ask me how it turned into this?

I hope i have been sensitive about this topic and portrayed Yrene and her panic attack properly.

Tags:

 @nishlicious-01​

[chippa-thoughts]

Felix is a Metaphor

Just like the Bakerix episode was a metaphor for interracial marriage, a lot of people picked up the fact that Felix is a metaphor for harassing/mistreating women. So let’s dive into it, shall we?

*SPOILERS FOR FELIX AHEAD, PLEASE WATCH THE EPISODE BEFORE READING THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS*

⚠️ Also, I understand this may be a sensitive topic for anybody who has been a victim or knows somebody who has gone/is going through this sort of thing at the moment. So please be wary of this while reading. ⚠️ Also please note, whenever I say “women” or “boys” or “men” it’s just a generalization. The terms are fluid for everyone, but because Felix is a boy and Alya, Rose, Juleka and Ladybug are girls, my terminology is mostly stemming from that. None of the terminologies are meant to be malicious.

PRE-THOUGHTS: AS SOON AS the episode synopsis for Felix dropped all those months ago, I had the biggest hunch it would be taken in this direction because of who gets akumatized: Alya, Rose and Juleka. It said they were coming after Felix which meant he did something to upset them and I could only assume it was going to be a metaphor for mistreating women.

THEN THE TRAILER DROPPED and my suspicions were only moreso confirmed.

------------------------------------------------------------ ALRIGHT, LET'S DIG INTO IT. ------------------------------------------------------------

1. THE "VICTIMS"

Alya, Rose and Juleka are our beautiful, personable and lovely women who are akumatized as a result of Felix being manipulative, a liar and verbally abusive.

These are all the traits of the type of guy (and there are women who are like this too) who see women as objects, or as trophies to "conquer."

They start off looking like a nice guy - saying all the right words to make you feel good about yourself. Quite literally, they may be pretending to be somebody they're not. They may be impersonating someone else and lying about who they are just to impress you or put you at ease.

Only to reveal his true colours later on.

His words hurt them and they are left feeling disappointed and betrayed.

The fact that all 3 of them are akumatized could represent a situation where a guy has played multiple girls at once.

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

2. HAWKMOTH'S WORDING

The words he uses to akumatize people are usually a hint to the meaning of the episode.

In this case, 'the boy you thought was your friend' could be switched out with 'the boy you thought who liked you/flirted with you,' again, tying back to the description that boys like these always come off nice, or seem like your friend at first... until they cross the line.

Then this was their reply:

This is the kind of thing you would say to a boy who's played you or used you - otherwise, I don’t believe Alya, Juleka and Rose would get so easily akumatized over one mean video. I believe they were specifically akumatized as a demonstration to fulfil this underlying message.

Imagine a group of exes getting back at their abusive ex-boyfriend together.

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

3. NAUGHTY GIRL

I believe this was intentionally a piece of dialogue to represent when guys like these make promiscuous comments towards women such as referring to them as a "bad girl," in need of "punishment" (if you understand that innuendo).

Many people have come to critique this as ‘toxic phrasing’ which implies that the boy will assert his dominance because the woman is ‘asking for it/she deserves it.’

It's a common phrasing guys like these will use to flirt and 'get in,' but as the Trio of Punishers express: this is just terrible.

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

4. NO, MEANS NO!

And finally, this scene perfectly and ultimately captures their underlying message:

Let's go through it frame by frame:

Firstly, Felix grabs LB's hand in a manner she is startled and uncomfortable with.

Guys like these will often touch you or hold you unexpectedly or without permission, or, in ways that may make you feel uncomfortable. They often just help themselves to it, usually under this twisted mentality that 'you want it' or 'it must feel good.'

Ladybug in this scene represents women who face this situation and are startled, shocked, or taken aback by the sudden affection.

Look at the way she has clenched her fist - she's being protective of her hand now.

And this part:

Again, reiterating the idea about how guys like these tend to say things you want to hear. They'll seem nice, they'll seem like they care... but all they 'care' about is getting your guard down so they can slide in.

In more specific situations, guys might actually say they 'love you' because they know it works.

And Ladybug lets her guard down for a second because, in reality, it does sound nice at first.

And she has a bit of a gleam in her voice.

Then ooof Cue this twisted music, to match his twisted mindset.

The fact he trails off after "let me..." is to insinuate that real-life situation where guys want what they... want 👀

Then he starts advancing on her.

Look how uneasy it's making her. It's to simulate these real-life situations as I keep mentioning.

And backs her up into a wall.

Years ago, this was seen as the 'classic' move in shows, films and even cartoons to 'get' ladies. In fact, there's even a name for it in Japanese media called "kabedon" - the ‘wall push/wall slam/wallpin’ whatever you call it. 

But in this day and age, we realise it is showcasing some sort of ‘toxic masculinity’ where the guy is advancing dominance over a woman who:  a). does not ask for it b). did not give consent.

But many new media forms are also using it ironically or satirizing it as a way of being subversive.

To heighten her discomfort, Cristina Vee adds these sounds and mumbles of discomfort.

And this frame is given a second or two for us to soak in.

The diagonal angle reinforces how twisted this is, Ladybug is shown to be helpless, startled and her limbs are spread against the wall, overshadowed by Felix's body.

This is how it used to be. The show is making a statement for how wrong this is.

She expresses her first "no."

And look at how disgusted and uncomfortable she looks.

But he ignores her refusal and keeps going, signifying men who don't respect other’s wishes.

And then our favourite moment:

punches him

Because Ladybug represents this forward movement with women.

This kind of behaviour should not be tolerated and no woman (and even man) deserves to be treated this way.

The staff behind Miraculous express their attitude towards this through Ladybug when she exclaims:

They want to tell you that "boys" like him are not worth your time. You should not have to put up with people who cannot respect personal boundaries and try to violate yours. Ladybug represents the idea that you deserve so much more than a guy who is manipulative, shallow and tries to weasel their way into your affection with cheap tricks.

The best part is, Cristina's comment about all this:

Felix is meant to represent the "bad boy," who thinks he's so suave with women when in reality, he's just a player, a cheat, and as Cristina says: not worth it.

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

5. ENTITLED

One extra thing!

This line reveals one of Felix's key characteristics: he always gets what he wants. He thinks he's entitled. He gets away with everything. Hence why he thinks he can treat women the way he does.

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

Let me know your thoughts on this!

[bazzybelle]

Carry On Countdown - Day Thirteen

Notes: So... This came about when reading about Baz’s sadness in regards to his father, and I just want someone to yell at Malcolm for being so stubborn and ughhhh. Title and quote at the beginning were inspired by the Pink’s song “F***ng Perfect” (a song that honestly means the world to me. God, I love her). This takes place right after Carry On. 

Disclaimer: So, I tried my very best to be as sensitive as possible in this story. I’ve shared this story already with people I respect and love and they’ve given me positive feedback on what I was trying to accomplish. I do understand everyone’s experiences and perceptions are different. With that being said, there are parts during the story that may be triggering to some. I’ve mentioned before that my stories focus on healing and understanding, and I hope I was able to convey that. If my story fell short, I sincerely apologize. 

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz and @fight-surrender for the never ending love and support as I was writing this story. Also thank you to @giishu and @f-ing-ruthless-baz for the encouragement and positive feedback. 

TW: I’m gonna put a trigger warning for implied homophobia. Also another one for difficult family. 

Day 13 Prompt: Parental Figures 

Title: You’re F***in’ Perfect to Me

________________________________________________________________

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than f*ckin' perfect. Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're f*ckin' perfect to me!

DAPHNE

I am not his mother. 

I have to remember that. 

There have been many times where I just wanted to hold him and brush the hair away from his face, especially after a bad quarrel with his father. But, I have to remember. 

I am not his mother. 

It’s been 13 years since I joined the Grimm-Pitch household as Malcolm’s wife. If I had to be honest, it was not a role I would have asked for, but one that I accepted. I was the only daughter left to be married from a branch of the Waters family. Malcolm and I had been friends during our time at Watford. He was good friends with my fiance, Declan. Declan and I were supposed to be married right after graduating from Watford, but he was killed in a skirmish between some magicians. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, because the Declan I knew would never risk his life for a stupid squabble between boys. 

I died the same day he did. Declan died and I had lost any other fight to be happy. Nothing mattered in my life anymore because he was gone from it. 

So when Malcolm showed up on my doorstep, a year after losing the love of his life, and asked that I become his second wife, well my parents all but jumped at the opportunity to marry their daughter to a Grimm. 

I refused. I wanted nothing to do with Malcolm Grimm and with being the replacement to the great Natasha Pitch.

Then I met Basilton. 

There was something about the sad, lonely little boy that broke the walls I had put up around my heart. I would never replace his mother, I knew that. But this child needed someone to give him comfort, a sense of stability. This child needed a motherly presence. So I accepted and I married Malcolm.

Marriage to Malcolm was not what I expected. We were never truly intimate, only really engaging in intercourse to provide more children to the household. We did find comfort in each other, and a shared sense of mourning for the loves we had lost. It hasn’t been an unhappy marriage, but Malcolm and I were more like best friends rather than lovers. My children (all 5 of them), brought me a happiness that I never thought I would feel again after losing Declan.

I had tried to be a calming presence in Basilton’s torrential life. I offered him support and as much love as I could. I took him to his violin lessons when he was younger, I taught him how to drive. I watched him grow up into an amazing young man. 

I raised him. 

I raised him and I loved him. 

I still love him. 

The six weeks where we lost him, were the worst six weeks of my life. I could not eat; I could not sleep. Malcolm had to cast sleeping spells on me just to get me to rest. I was running on reserve energy, walking in a day dream. When we got him back, it took everything in me to let him leave for school. I did not want to send him back to that hostile place, where there were people who wanted to do him harm. 

Malcolm often told me that I risk overstepping my boundaries when it came to Basilton. He accuses me of being somewhat overbearing. Of course I overstep my boundaries! The poor child’s life has not been easy. Losing a mother at such a young age, at the same time becoming afflicted with a condition that would almost certainly mean death if the Coven knew about it. Someone had to worry about him, and to care about him. 

But… we don’t talk about Basilton’s condition.

We don’t talk about Basilton’s condition, nor do we talk about Natasha. 

And we certainly don’t talk about Basilton’s homosexuality. 

When Malcolm and I first learned that Basilton was dating Simon Snow, it was a shock to me. More so because, as far as I knew, Mr. Snow hated Basilton. I remember gently touching Basilton’s arm and asking him if he was sure about this, and if he was happy about it. When he nodded, it was all I needed to know. Malcolm did not take the news well. He waved it off as a phase, and refused to bring up the topic again. I had tried to get him to understand his son, but he refused to listen to me and would often shoot me down. 

My foot came down tonight, at dinner. I was tired of not talking anymore. I was tired of seeing the look of anxiety on Basilton’s face every time he had to come home to visit. I was tired of Malcolm not listening. 

Malcolm had started to pressure him. Going on about expectations and what his future plans were. Basilton kept giving one-word answers, but I could see his eyes becoming more and more narrow, his fists clutching tightly at the table cloth. I focused my attention on the other children, but kept glancing between the two.

Malcolm didn’t notice (and if he did, I don’t think he would have acknowledged it). He started talking about having Basilton come to more Coven meetings and start learning how the Coven worked so that, when the time came, he would be ready to take his place. Basilton grumbled that he did not want to spend his life arguing at Coven meetings. There were other interests he wanted to pursue. 

Then Malcolm threw a bomb.

He asked if those interests included Simon Snow. I glared at him when those words left him. I stated that his comment was uncalled for, but Malcolm ignored me. I could see Basilton becoming more and more agitated, as he asked his father to understand that Simon Snow was more than just a silly interest. I listened as he asked his father to understand that Simon was a very important part of his life. I listened, and Malcolm avoided and ignored. It all came to a head when he demanded that Basilton start really thinking about his future and that the expectations that came with his name could not include Simon Snow. 

I think I may have exploded at that point. I was not proud of losing my temper, but at that point, I had enough.

I slammed my napkin on the table loud enough to startle the twins and cause the baby to begin crying. Vera had to come in and take her away. I turned to Malcolm and hissed that it was enough. Basilton had taken the distraction to angrily leave the table. With dinner sufficiently ruined, I gathered the rest of the children and ushered them upstairs. 

After putting the children to bed, I had wanted to speak to Basilton, but figured it was best to give him some space in order to process everything before going to talk to him. Besides, he was most likely hunting on the grounds. So, I went into the master bedroom and started to think about what would come from the evening. I was not worried about the stability of my marriage. Malcolm would not dare bring about the scandal of divorce into this household. It was one of the few instances where I could use Malcolm’s insistence on propriety to my benefit. Tonight, I would finally speak up. Tonight, I would fight for his son. 

Overstepping my boundaries be damned.

I am brushing my hair at my vanity, when Malcolm walks into the bedroom. I can feel his foreboding presence behind me, even before I notice his reflection in the mirror. He looks rather cross with me. I take a deep breath and place my brush on the counter. I stand up from the chair and face my husband.

“You made quite a spectacle of yourself at dinner.” He states in an icy tone. 

“I cannot stay silent anymore Malcolm.” I stare at his dark eyes and defiantly place my hands on my hips.

Malcolm stands inches to my face and points his finger at me. “Watch yourself, Daphne.” He speaks in a quiet, yet threatening voice. I scoff at him. Let him threaten me. I push his finger away from my face and point towards Basilton’s room. 

“He is your son! He is your brilliant, strong, incredibly kind-hearted son, who is only asking you to accept him for who he is!” I do not realize that my voice has risen so high that I am practically shouting. I hope the children will not hear our argument. 

Malcolm rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head. “He’s a child, Daphne! He doesn’t know who he is!” I look at him incredulously. I cannot believe that this was the same man who wept when Basilton was brought home, after those horrid six weeks. 

“Bollocks Malcolm! He is more sure of himself than anyone I have ever known!” I raise my hands over my head. I must be making quite a show of myself right now. Merlin help me, I do not care. These are feelings that should have been expressed months ago. 

“He is a PITCH! There are expectations that go with that name.” Malcolm is still so calm, but the way that he says his late wife’s name. As if nothing could possibly hold more weight. I continue to shake my head, and angrily pace around the bedroom.

“I cannot believe you are forcing that upon him! Malcolm, we have BOTH lost the people we love the most in this world. Yet, here you are, trying to do the same thing to your own son!” My eyes begin to well with tears when I think back to Declan, and Natasha. Basilton does not deserve the same fate that befell myself and his father. He has found a little piece of happiness in his life and deserves to keep it. I point a finger up above me: “Do you think she-”

“Do not bring her up Daphne!” Malcolm thunders. I flinch involuntarily, I was not expecting him to shout like that. It is good to know that the man is capable of such emotion. I straighten myself out and address him calmly, as his friend. 

“I will bring her up Malcolm. Now I know that I am not his mother, you’ve reminded me of that fact plenty of times. But I have watched him grow up into a fine young man, and I do love him as if he were one of my own.” I reach out for his hand, imploring him to listen to me, for once in his life, to listen to someone instead of his own stubborn thoughts. I continue to speak gently to him. “I look at our children, and all I want is for them to be happy. I know that Natasha would want the same for Basilton.” Malcolm pulls away from me and walks to the fireplace

“He can be perfectly happy with the path set in front of him.” He speaks softly into the flames. I walk up beside him and grab his arm. I try to turn him towards me, and I need him to look at me as I address him. 

“That is not who he is. And he does not need to be anything more than the person he is right now. He’s bloody perfect, Malcolm. I wish you could see that.” Malcolm pulls away from me and back to the fire. He runs his hand through his white hair. 

“It isn’t about that. I refuse to let the Pitch name-”

“Rubbish Malcolm! Your son’s happiness is more important than his name.” I interrupt him now. I am frankly tired of hearing about the Pitch name. Basilton is more than the name attached to him. 

“I will not let Natasha’s memory, her legacy die!” Malcolm slams his fist on the mantle of the fireplace. I jump back. I turn my head away from him. A part of me understands the severity of Malcolm’s words. A miniscule part of me, understands. It isn’t enough to convince me that he is right. I collect my thoughts and offer up one last plea, from my heart. 

“And it won’t! It’ll live on in the lasting influence she had, in the spells she created. It’ll live on in Basilton himself, in whatever path he chooses to follow.” I force his eyes to meet mine, for he has, up until this point, refused to look at me. “But Malcolm, if you reject him, if you refuse to acknowledge who he is and deny him who he loves, you will lose him. And you will only have yourself to blame!”

Malcolm responds by walking away from me. I hope that he simply needs some time to think about what I’ve said. So I grab my dressing gown and head towards the doors.  

“Where are you going?” Malcolm asks me.

“I need some time away from you right now I shall be in the sitting room.” I figure I have been honest with him so far, may as well continue. 

I step out of the room and rush down the stairs. I pray that none of the children have awoken after that argument. I can’t let them see me barely holding myself together. I feel my heart racing, and my hands are  shaking. I need a drink. My drink of choice is typically a deep red, a Merlot. But, tonight, after that fight, I decide to go for something stronger.

Shaky hands pull out my favourite gin: Edinburgh Seaside Gin. We have better quality gins in our collection, but this is my absolute favourite. I pour my glass and take a seat on the couch. It is after I take a few sips of the gin, where I begin to weep. 

“Did you mean it?” I leap onto my feet and whip around to see Basilton standing in the sitting room’s entrance. His cheeks are flushed, which indicates to me that he has recently fed himself. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and he is looking away from me.

“Basilton! Merlin, you gave me a fright!” I grasp at my chest. I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes and place the glass of gin on a small table. Basilton turns his head to me. His eyes are bloodshot, and I know that isn’t due to the feeding. 

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks me again. I walk up to him and gently caress his face. I smile at him and looked at him in his eyes.

“Every word.” 

Basilton pulls away from me. “I should apologize. I do not want to be a reason for you and father to get into an argument.” I gently lead him to the sofa and we sit down. I hold his hands in mine as I speak softly to him. 

“Do not apologize Basilton. I just wish I had done it sooner.” He looks up at me and gives me sad smile. 

“Thank you, mother.” He whispers.

“Always”, I tuck some of his hair behind his ear and smile at him. He nods as he gets up from the sofa. I say one last thing to him; “I understand that you may not want to come back here, and I cannot blame you. But if it’s alright with you and Simon, I would still like to be apart of your lives. I’m sure the younger children do as well. Wherever you feel most comfortable, we would like to still see you.”

Basilton smiles at me and gives me a simple nod before walking out of the room. I take a deep breath and sip some more of the gin. I look to my left and a grand portrait of Natasha Pitch looks down at me. I salute her and pray that I have done good enough for her son.

I am not his mother. I will never truly be his mother. He has a mother. 

Natasha, you have left impossible shoes for me to fill. Shoes I never wanted to fill. But I did, out of a sense of duty. Because my friend needed a wife, and his son needed a mother.

I could never replace you Natasha. You will always be Basilton’s mother. He will always be your son.

But, in my heart, I will always see Basilton as my son. 

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than f*ckin' perfect. Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're f*ckin' perfect to me!

[imagine-loki]

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 62/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody

RATING: T (again after last chapter)

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

You saw Loki’s smirk as he tried to hold back his laughter at your plight.  He turned and led the way out to the Bifrost circle, while you protested the fact that Bucky was carrying you over his shoulder. You were too busy arguing with him to put you down that she couldn’t argue with him to stay behind.  

“Brother, you know Father dislikes Midgardians in his realm,” Thor tried to be the voice of reason while you headed outside.  He hoped Loki would listen to him for once.  Bringing Bucky didn’t seem like the best idea.   

“I could not care less about what the Allfather thinks. After all of the things he put my lady through, he does not deserve my consideration,” Loki growled softly.  “I wish for Sergeant Barnes to accompany us for my lady’s safety as well as to show my closest friend my home,” he added

Thor just sighed and gave up and headed to the bifrost circle.  “Sergeant, you may wish to put her down now.  We do not want any incidents on the Bifrost,” Thor told Bucky while he used Mjolnir to summon his Asgardian clothes. Loki’s clothes shimmered to his Asgardian armor. Bucky set you down and Loki’s magic flowed over the pair of you as well, Bucky’s battle uniform and your new uniform as well.  You couldn’t help glancing at your outfit, taking it in, and finally feeling like a proper member of the team, though it did seem strange and a touch too adorable.  Your battle costume had cat-ears on it for Pete’s sake.  You looked to Loki for approval of it, not quite remembering that he had probably helped put it together.  All you were thinking was that he liked fashion, so he’d be able to approve of it or not. 

Loki gave you a warm smile and you saw the approval… and interest… in his eyes. “You look amazing, darling,” he reassured you. 

Thor was holding Mjolnir and offered it to Loki, handle first.  “Do you need to do the honors, brother?” he asked, knowing Loki might still need to show off, or prove to himself again, that he was worthy.  

Loki grabbed Mjolnir from Thor with a nearly childlike glee. Thor went to Bucky and clapped the man on the shoulder, careful to stay on his left, on the side of his metal arm. Bucky could be touchy about skin contact.  “Travel by bifrost is an experience and as I have said,” Thor explained again, to tell the stoic soldier why he was being touched.  “We do not wish for there to be any accidents on the journey,”

Loki’s arm went around your shoulders and you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, remembering the journey from your previous two visits.  You hid your face against his chest, knowing the rainbow lights would affect your sensitive eyes.  At least you knew what you were getting into, unlike poor Bucky.  Loki lifted Mjolnir above his head. “Heimdall, if you please,” he said, polite as ever. 

Thor smirked as the Bifrost opened around you. He knew his brother well to know he’d want to do the honors himself. You hid your face against Loki as you felt the weightlessness of floating upwards.  

You stepped into the Bifrost chamber and all greeted Heimdall politely.  Though Thor’s version of polite included hugging the gatekeeper for some reason.  At least Heimdall seemed used to this behavior from the prince. 

“That is… an experience,” Bucky said, looking a bit green.  Heimdall gave Bucky a suspicious look until Thor quickly vouched for the metal-armed soldier. Bucky recovered from the first shock quickly, just in time for the four of you to leave the Bifrost chamber to see three horses waiting for you.  “First magic, now horses?” Bucky grumbled, but swung himself into the saddle of the extra mount. “Don’t dump me, I haven’t ridden since I was a kid,” he told the horse firmly. You laughed while you reached up to take Loki’s hand.  He swung you up on the horse behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, grateful that this time you would ride normally and didn’t have to try to ride sidesaddle. Loki smirked at your tight grip on him, appreciating your touch and glad to have you near.  He was even more glad to have you so close to a cure.  

The trip to the palace was short on horseback, especially with galloping horses. It would have been unbelievably long on foot.  /In the healing wing, darling/ Frigga told Loki as your group dismounted.  She could feel Loki’s approach.  She had taught him his magic and could feel his presence whenever he was home and missed it terribly when he was away.  

The horses were led away and Loki turned to the rest of your group.  “Follow me,” he told you, though not unkindly.  He led you all straight to the healing wing.  Thor gave a bit of a tour to Bucky as you went, though everyone understood that Loki was on a mission to make sure you got healed.  

That didn’t stop him from going straight to Frigga and hugging her tightly.  Loki was such a mama’s boy that he couldn’t help the automatic response. Frigga hugged him as soon as he was through the healing wing’s doors and you watched the adorable scene with a fond smile.  “I have missed you, my son,” she greeted him warmly and kissed his cheek.  

She hugged Thor and received a cheek kiss from him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be surprised when she hugged you.  You were surprised that she let Bucky brush off his manners and bow over her hand to kiss her knuckles with a “ma’am” of greeting.  

“Your Father is off world.  There was business to attend to on Alfheim,” Frigga told her sons, though most of her attention was on Loki as she addressed his concerns. “By the time he is due to return home, your lady should be through the transition,” 

Loki sighed in relief.  “This is perfect timing then,”

“It is, isn’t it?” Frigga asked too innocently, with a smirk of mischief. You also knew that she orchestrated the events that led to Odin being offworld. Even if she wouldn’t say as much.  You also caught her knowing smile at Bucky’s metal arm around your shoulders, keeping you from wandering off.  You had a habit of doing that (and fixing whatever electronic device you came across) when you got bored.  Frigga was surprised that Loki wasn’t upset that another man was touching his lady, but she also knew that Bucky was Loki’s actual friend. It warmed her heart that Loki finally had real friends. 

Frigga turned to Thor. “While your Father is off world, his duties would usually fall to me, but I will be tied up here. I need you to take them instead,” she told him.  Thor was perfectly well qualified to take the throne.  He had been training for it his entire life, but still, he hesitated.  He didn’t want the throne, not anymore, not after everything.  He sighed and finally nodded.  It was just temporary and he would do anything to help his mother, much as Loki would.  

Thor nodded and kissed her cheek again.  He clapped Loki on the shoulder. “You know where to find me if you need me,” he told his brother before he left to tend to the people and the throne, leaving Loki and Bucky to guard you. With Odin gone, they didn’t need so much security, plus Thor was an oaf in the healing wing and was better off elsewhere out of the way. 

“This way darlings,” Frigga bid the three of you.  You caught Bucky’s look of surprise that he was included among the ‘darlings’.  He was even more surprised when Frigga wrapped her arm around your shoulders instead, taking you from him with no effort.  She let you into one of the private rooms. “Wait here a moment,” she told the boys kindly, and proceeded to nearly slam the door on their noses to make sure they stayed out.   Both of them grumbled, but you were glad when Frigga spent the time you were changing into a comfortable tunic and soft black pants telling you about what the healing would actually entail: eating one of Idun’s golden apples and becoming Asgardian.  It would cure your vampirism as it rebuilt your body.  You’d be spending a day or more in the healing wing, so you were glad for the comfortable clothes.  Battle armor wouldn’t be practical.   

That done, Frigga finally let the boys in.  Loki gave you a kiss when he entered.  Frigga turned to her son and you could see she was pleased with his obvious warmth and love for you.  She turned serious again quickly, even as you hugged your Loki, nervous about the prospect of your body rebuilding itself.  “Loki, are you sure you wish to be here for this?  You know the stories as well or better than anyone.  You know it will be difficult on her to say the least. I will watch over her and ease her through it.  You do not have to be here-” it spoke to Frigga’s concern that she used his name instead of a term of endearment.  She didn’t want to make him watch you suffer through the transition.  It was hell at the best of times and she was afraid it would be worse when it was curing your vampirism at the same time.  

“I cannot leave her side, Mother.  I will not.  I do not wish for her to face this alone.  I know she wouldn’t be alone with you here, but she is my lady and I will not stand by and let her suffer without me,” he told her firmly.  

Frigga was impressed that he had stood up to her and nodded, accepting Loki’s decision.  “Very well, then,” she replied and summoned the golden apple to hand to you.  “So, darling, tell me about this party.  It must have been quite the chore to hide it from your little darling,” she bid Loki while you took the first bite. She was drawing out a light, happy, topic of conversation for while you ate the apple and until it took effect. 

Loki smirked.  “It certainly wasn’t easy,” he started the story and you stuck your tongue out at him, mock-glaring at him for teasing you about being difficult, despite the fact that it was true. He went into detail about how he managed to keep the secret and how well the party had turned out.   

“You invited your Aunt Brynhilde?” Frigga asked him, sounding excited and wanting more information on her best friend.  

“I did. I thought it only right to reconnect my love with her family,” he replied warmly and kissed the top of your head.

“Mom and Bree, my sister, are doing just fine,” you chimed in, catching what Frigga was actually asking.  “Though Bree kept annoying your sons and mom won’t stop calling him ‘little Loki’” you teased Loki warmly.  He glared at you for reminding his mother of that nickname which he thought he’d outgrown centuries ago.  

Frigga laughed.  “Well, Brynhilde has known Loki since we adopted him.  Old habits die hard, I’m sure.  You know she meant no offense, darling,” she added that part to Loki.

He smiled fondly at how happy his mother was and the old memories. “I know, Mother,”

You finished the apple and vanished the core while you all discussed the party and other goings on.  Bucky stayed awkwardly off to the side.  He wasn’t usually one for socializing.  

He looked over at you when you coughed, but he thought nothing of a simple cough.  Not until you kept coughing, clutching onto Loki to keep your feet under you as drops of blood splattered on your arm as your temperature rose quickly.  You whimpered, afraid of how quickly you were getting so sick.  

Loki swept you off your feet and placed you on the bed, cuddling you in his arms.  He was so cold and it felt so good against your quickly rising temperature.  A moment later, Frigga rushed over with a healing brew.  Bucky stayed by the door of the room, out of the way and standing guard, though he was worried too. 

Loki concentrated for a moment and let his illusion fade on his hand, letting his true form be seen and felt as he placed his blue hand against your forehead. You melted in relief as Frigga placed the healing brew in your hands.  

“Here, darling, drink this, it will help,” Frigga promised.   You drank the potion, which soothed the cough instantly as your eyes began to flutter, the potion pulling you to sleep, soothed by the position and Loki’s cold.  

“What’s going on?” Bucky demanded when you were asleep. He made his demand of Loki, he’d never be so rude to the queen. “You said you were bringing her here for a cure, this doesn’t look like a cure!” he glared and Loki and decided to save asking why the fuck his hand was blue for later.  

Loki sighed.  “This is the cure,” he replied patiently. “However, it will not be an easy process. It will cure the vampirism but also turn her into a full Asgardian. It is not without pain. Though I wish there was a way to avoid it,” he said sorrowfully as he cuddled you close while you whimpered softly. 

Bucky didn’t look entirely convinced, but he trusted Loki and Frigga.  They wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, especially not Loki.  He loved you too much.  “Should I be concerned that your hand is blue?” Bucky asked instead, his voice dryly teasing his friend.  He could tease when neither Loki nor Frigga were concerned about the blue hand.  

Loki glared in reply, snarling softly.  “I am not biologically Asgardian. I was adopted. This,” he raised up his blue hand. “Is what my real heritage looks like. I’m a Jotun, a Frost Giant,” he told Bucky, his voice icy.

“It’s rude to glare at your friend for being concerned over you, darling,” Frigga scolded gently, the automatic scolding of a mother.  Her attention was on you and how you’d mewed in your sleep when Loki removed his cold hand from your forehead.  Bucky nodded, accepting the answer.  He didn’t comment any further since the topic had clearly upset Loki.  Loki returned his blue hand to your forehead, soothing you in any way he could.  

“Unfortunately, there is not much we can do for her, but try to keep her as comfortable as possible,” Frigga added.  She turned to Loki.  “Keep an eye on that fever,” she told him.  He was their best shot at keeping your fever down so it didn’t burn you up.  

*

Hours, more healing potions, and one terrifying event with a seizure later, the exhaustion in the room was palpable.  You were finally peacefully asleep in Loki’s arms, so Bucky jumped into action.  You didn’t need care at the moment and the others needed to rest.  With old charm brushed off from the forties, he somehow managed to get Frigga to agree to lie down on the couch in the room.  She was asleep as soon as he laid a blanket over her.  He had been going to force her to get some rest, queen or not.  He looked over at Loki when his mother was taken care of.  “You should get some rest too, Odinson.  I can watch over her,” Bucky was back to a bit of formality in this strange realm and in front of Loki’s family.  Even if his mother was asleep.  

Loki looked so wary about falling asleep, but he was exhausted and you were safe.  For now.  He trusted that Bucky would be able to keep watch over the three of you. “Thank you, Bucky,” Loki could use his name for once as well.  He really did appreciate his best friend being here.  He finally closed his eyes and instantly passed out, exhausted from the hours of your healing and there was only more to come.  

Bucky stood leaning against the door.  No one was going to get past his watch. You woke briefly while the other two were asleep.  Bucky helped you sit up and placed a glass of water against your lips, helping you drink it while you were too dazed and feverish to do anything for yourself.  The fever was drying you out, so anytime you woke, they made you drink something.  You weren’t coherent when you woke and barely remembered doing so or whining at Bucky. He promised everything would be alright and laid you back down, stroking your hair out of your face. “It’ll be alright, Striga,” he promised you gently.  You were back asleep the moment your head hit the pillow.  He looked at the sleeping Loki.  “Please don’t stab me,” he mumbled as he very carefully moved the sleeping Loki’s blue hand back to your forehead.  He figured Loki would forgive Bucky for touching him in order to help you.  Loki would have too, if he’d been awake enough to notice.  Bucky sighed in relief that he’d avoided getting stabbed and resume his guard duty. 

*

They lost track of time.  The other two woke.  Maids brought food.  Bucky caught a nap.  There were more potions, more healing, more awful rebuilding of your body that none of you wanted to remember.  

“Almost over, darling,” Frigga told them after what felt like days.  They all had the same exhausted relieved look.  She turned to Loki.  “Be prepared. The worst is yet to come,” she warned him, looking worried.  Loki didn’t like her worry. Not one bit. Not when this had already been so terrible.  He turned his attention back to where you were cuddled in his arms, stealing as much of his cold as you could.  He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he replaced his hand there.  

Everything would be alright.

Everything would be alright.

No matter what the worst was.

Frigga’s words were understood a few hours later when you jolted awake, sitting up, clutching at your chest while you howled a terrible shriek of pain.  

Loki sat up next to you, fretting and clearly not having any idea how to help while you cried and shrieked and clutched at your chest, ready to rip out whatever was hurting you so much that you wailed. 

No one noticed yet that your tears were clear and no longer blood red.  That revelation would come after they got your tears, your sobs, your wailing to stop.  

You writhed in pain, squirming as nothing would relieve it.  

Loki held you in his strong arms, rubbing your back, whispering soothing words, pouring magic into you, trying anything and everything to ease whatever was paining you. 

Frigga rushed over, placing her hands on you.  They were glowing with power as she used her magic to ease the pain.  She was the strongest healer in the realm and after a minute could erase the pain where Loki had only been able to dull it slightly. 

“Her heart started beating again,” Frigga told you all as you panted, trying to catch your breath.

You had to breathe.  You had to catch your breath.  Your heart was beating.

It had worked.

By all the gods, it had actually worked.

[tyguy666]

Speech about Sexual Abuse/Molestation:

Okay so this is a really sensitive topic and one that I feel needs to be addressed more and that is sexual abuse/molestation. Some of the things I want to talk about is how to recognise the signs of abuse and the things that you can do to help the victim (by this I mean more than just calling the authorities if you’re a friend). I do want to apologise in advance if this upsets anyone it is purely educational/something that needs to be talked about in a light that isn’t full of stigmas and opinions. 

So the first thing I want to start off by saying is that if you are a victim of any kind of abuse, not just sexual, remember that it is not your fault! I cannot stress that enough! You shouldn’t be afraid to speak up if something is/has/does happen because you did nothing wrong! If anything speaking up will help to get you out of the situation that is hurting you! By not speaking up you are allowing your attacker to get away with it and I’m not saying this like “if you don’t speak up then you’re condoning it” because you’re not and I am speaking from experience when I say it is hard to tell people because you don’t know how they’re going to react, you don’t know if they’re going to tell this person or if they’re going to start spreading something you told them in confidence around. You are special and precious and deserved to be able to tell the people you love that something has happened without the fear of ridicule and disbelief! I have had many mixed reactions when I told my family and a couple of very close friends/boyfriends. Someone that I thought would have stood by me and been on my side actually accused me of lying and said that they didn’t believe me…on the other hand a recent friend didn’t question me, she didn’t tut and pull a face tbh the only time she asked if something really happened was when I told her about the negative reaction. So I am begging you to please tell someone whether it is a friend, school teacher, work colleague you can trust or even the authorities because it can feel so good not to have to lug this huge secret around!

The next point I want to make is recognising the signs of someone who is being abused. The signs will vary depending on the age of the victim for example a toddler/young child might have nightmares, wet the bed, be afraid of a certain type of person for example males with facial hair or a lady with long red hair as well as possibly having sexual knowledge beyond their years. Teens are slightly more tricky to notice the signs because with teens the signs are more to do with mood changes, taking risks, weight gain/loss and these are things that can be passed off as regular teen behaviour in an attempt to fit in with friends and social standards. Also the problem with teens is that as they are figuring out who they are they tend not to talk to adults about problems preferring to speak to friends and as this is a sensitive topic they may feel concerned about whether this information will spread like a wildfire around their social group.

The main thing that can help a victim of abuse if they admit that it is happening is not to judge them about anything. If they pulled away, kissed back, fought the abuser off or laid still like a log it doesn’t matter it was not their fault. The fact that they are trusting you with this information is their way of asking/expecting not to be judged. Also don’t pressure them into telling you everything! It is okay to ask questions as long as they are non-invasive and are respectful. Some people when telling their story may suffer from a panic attack and some of the things you can do is a) not crowd them because it will only make them panic more, b) try and rub their shoulder comfortingly because their mind is panicked they may not be thinking clearly so touch is a good way to get a message across. However if they start thrashing around and panicking more give them space! I cannot stress this enough! C) get them a paper bag to breathe into. I have found that for me this works best because it is the fear that I’m going to stop breathing whereas if they watch the bag move then they can see that they are safe, they can still breathe and they can still control the situation. The final method of helping someone with a panic attack is to get them to name/verbalise five things they can see, four things they can hear, three things they can touch, two things they can smell and one thing they can taste. This is a method called grounding and it makes the sufferer aware of their surroundings. Now if the victim hasn’t told you about the abuse but you are concerned about them the best thing you can do is to tell someone! It is far better to be safe than sorry! There are several websites and numbers you can call confidentially on and every time someone reports their suspicions of abuse the more chance there is of stopping it before it gets too serious.

 So on a final note I am begging everyone who is in a situation that is deemed abusive to please get help and if you cannot help yourself find someone who can help. Stay strong and stay beautiful I love you all xxx

[howellrichard]

Protect Your Energy by Setting Boundaries

Hiya Gorgeous!

Does the thought of certain subjects coming up at your holiday gathering make you want to run, hide or break into nervous laughter? Politics, diets, rival sports teams, parenting styles… You know, those topics.

Over the holidays, we often have the chance to spend extra time with folks we don’t see much throughout the year. And though that can be a blessing, it can also lead to conversations that trigger or hurt us, inject doubt into our minds about our decisions, or make us uncomfortable.

If any of this sounds familiar, please know that whatever you’re doing to cope right now is enough—as long as it’s supporting you and not creating more stress or suffering in your life.

But if your current coping mechanisms aren’t serving you and/or you’d like some new strategies for setting boundaries in relationships (with family, chosen family, friends, coworkers, you name it!), then you’re in the right place.

Today I’m sharing tips for navigating difficult conversations.

You’ll learn simple, compassionate ways to:

Share your point of view (if you want to)

Ask for support from folks, even if they disagree with you

Listen to opposing opinions or unsolicited advice

Maintain healthy boundaries that make you feel safe and confident

Trust your inner wisdom when others question or challenge your decisions

Find a support system for whatever you’ve got goin’ on (I promise, it’s out there!)

Gently end conversations you don’t want to have (yes, you are 100 percent allowed to do that!)

Setting Boundaries, Trusting Yourself and Protecting Your Energy During Difficult Conversations

Setting boundaries isn’t always easy, especially when it comes to the people you’re closest to. These strategies will help you stay strong and keep trusting yourself when your resolve is tested or you feel attacked. Here are some of the most common scenarios you might face and how to handle them!

When you want to make your point

I’m sure you’re passionate about something (or many things!) that can be a little touchy when they come up in conversation. For example, one of the reasons I’m vegan is because I care deeply about animal rights. That can be a really sensitive subject for some folks, so while it’s not a conversation I back down from, I do my best to tread carefully. And healthy debate can be fun and educational if we lead with sensitivity and empathy!

Keep in mind that it’s not your responsibility to change anyone’s mind. If you just want to end the conversation, that’s perfectly ok (we’ll talk about how to do that in a bit). But if you want to take this as an opportunity to open up a dialogue, try these tips:

Feel out the situation. Are the people you’re chatting with open to hearing you out or do they just want to argue? Setting boundaries is about protecting your energy, so don’t waste precious time on a game you didn’t agree to play.

Listen. The most productive conversations allow everyone to get their air time. Try not to interrupt, roll your eyes, spend all your time planning your next rebuttal and so on. Really take in what the other person is saying and they’ll be more likely to do the same when it’s your time to talk.

Choose your words carefully. Use language that’s positive and understanding rather than combative and judgemental. Try phrases like, “You bring up an interesting point. Here’s something else you might consider…” and “It sounds like you’ve thought a lot about this! I’m grateful that we can share our unique perspectives with each other.”

Empower yourself with knowledge, data, etc. If this is a passion of yours and something you do want to talk about when it comes up, be prepared! Root yourself in your why (example: “I’m eating plant-based because it makes me feel better and helps reduce my carbon footprint.”) and get clear on the facts (example: “Actually, humans don’t need to eat animal products to be happy and healthy. Here are some facts about plant-based eaters that inspired me!”).

Know when to stop. If the discussion goes around and around in circles or starts to get heated, call a timeout! It’s important not to let things spiral out of control because that’s when boundaries get blurry. Agree to disagree and move on if the conversation becomes unproductive in any way. You can always come back to it later!

TAKE THE QUIZ NOW

When unwelcome feedback makes you doubt yourself

It can be really tough to resist the pressure to conform or agree, especially when it’s coming from someone we trust. If you’re second-guessing or doubting yourself even though you KNOW what’s in your heart, keep these tips in mind:

Do your best to stay grounded no matter where the conversation takes you. It’s normal to disagree sometimes. You can respect someone else’s point of view without doubting yourself.

Let them know you’re doing what’s best for you right now. You are the number one authority on YOU. Please don’t forget that!

You are not required to justify your feelings or decisions. Feeling the way you feel is the only explanation you need. Remember what I said before about it not being your job to change people’s minds? It’s also not on you to get people to understand your choices.

Come back to your WHY. If a challenging chat shakes you up, be gentle with yourself. Sometimes the stress of a disagreement can put us out of touch with our reasons why. Take some deep breaths and connect back to the purpose behind your choices. Ground yourself in why you made this decision/formed this opinion in the first place.

Give yourself time to reconsider. If an opposing viewpoint DOES make you want to reevaluate, that’s ok! That doesn’t make you weak or indecisive (more like open-minded and wise

). Just don’t feel rushed into changing your tune—take the time you need to think about what you’ve learned and return to the conversation if you want to.

When you want to ask for support

Let’s say you’ve decided to start going to yoga three times a week. But because of the schedule, it means you have to miss a family dinner on one of those days and your crew isn’t thrilled. How do you ask for support? Take these strategies for a spin:

Consider who you’re asking. What’s their communication style? Based on your experience, narrow in on the approach you think they’ll respond to best. Short and sweet? A written note? A formal pitch with with a PowerPoint presentation?

Share what’s meaningful. One of the best ways to ask for support is to lead with the words, “This would be meaningful to me.” Once folks understand where you’re coming from, it’s easier to support you. It’s also easier to not take things personally.

Make a trade. Some good, old-fashioned bartering can come in handy in these situations. Maybe one of your family members feels overwhelmed in the kitchen and could use some help before you head to class. Offer your support. Just make sure it’s a balanced exchange more often than not. While the effort in relationships isn’t always going to be 50/50 (sometimes you give more, sometimes you take more), you deserve to get back the energy you give.

Choose wisely. Just because they love you, doesn’t mean they should be your support system for everything. Take a moment to consider if this is the right person for the job. Sometimes setting boundaries also means accepting what a person can and cannot be to you.

Accept the outcome. So what happens if you ask for support and the person just can’t meet your needs? I know how disappointing this can be, but do your best to accept it and move on. Don’t push or guilt trip—it rarely helps. If this friend or family member is usually there for you, cut them a break. You can find the support you need elsewhere… and you always have access to it within.

When you want to end the conversation

Sometimes, you just don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing wrong with that and it doesn’t make you rude, stubborn or inflexible. But because we’re taught to be polite (sometimes to a fault), it can be really hard to promptly shut down a conversation.

But when it comes down to it, it’s pretty simple. You can end a convo with compassion and kindness in just a few words. The tough part is sticking to it when you get pushback. Here are a few phrases I’ve had success with:

“I’m really protecting my energy around this topic, can we talk about something else?”

“This isn’t something I’m comfortable talking about right now, let’s move on.”

“I’m not looking for advice about this, but I appreciate the offer!”

“I can tell you’re passionate about this, but I’d prefer it if we changed the subject.”

“I’ll enjoy our time together more if we don’t talk about this—thanks for understanding!”

You have big, bold dreams for your life.

And ya know what? Anything big and bold is bound to attract some attention. Try seeing opposition as scenery on your journey. You can notice it, acknowledge it and even pause to check it out. But it doesn’t have to stop you or throw you off course.

You are wise, valuable, worthy and capable. Your dreams are important and the world needs you to keep chasing them! You’re also not alone—I’m here with you, every step of the way.

Your turn: What do you want to set some boundaries around? Let me know in the comments so we can support each other!

Peace & healthy boundaries,

The post Protect Your Energy by Setting Boundaries appeared first on KrisCarr.com.

[gabriella-lost-in-the-big-city]

“...and one day you’ll grow up to be a strong, independent woman just like your mami”

by Gabriella J Bolanos

This is a very sensitive topic about me, but over the course of the past six weeks of this hellish semester, I realized the importance of giving trans people a space of their own in the world of “maternal” / “woman’s” (A.K.A. Cis-woman’s health). I loathed the maternity nursing lecture, mainly because the double dose of problematic WASPs was too much for me to swallow on a weekly basis. However, those five days at Mt. Sinai’s labor and delivery/postpartum floors was such an uplifting, emotional, and sometimes conflicting moment. Let me just put it out there that yes I am transgender, and I own up to being a transgender woman. I am proud to be a transgender woman, and I don’t see myself being anything else. However, society has not advanced enough to where transgender people are respected by women and men as viable women; and science has not advanced enough to where they can put a functional uterus in me. I had a lot of experience observing and participating in the births of numerous children 3 of those 5 days, many of them being families who were introducing their first child to their lives. I enjoyed seeing the face of young fathers and mothers feeling nothing but pure joy as they hold their just born child in their arms. It’s honestly an amazing privilege to be able to witness a moment so intimate, so groundbreaking, so heartfelt, so pure like the birth of a newborn. However, in the back of my head, I could never shake the feeling of jealousy and resentment of these mothers. I will never be congratulated for being pregnant with my child. I will never be congratulated for spending all those hours in labor or overcoming all of the pain to deliver my baby. I won’t feel that overwhelming burst of emotion holding my newly born crying baby on my bare chest. Sometimes I feel like I won’t ever be a “real” mom because I’ll never have the opportunity to do things that our heteronormative society tells us a mother does.

*Side Note: Why is there no gender-neutral term for “person that gives birth,” it’s always when the mother does this or when the mother experiences that or when the mother holds her baby for the first time… mother is clearly a gender-charged word, but in reality, it’s not always a cis-female that gives birth, there are transmen out there that give birth, and gender non-conforming people that give birth – and I highly doubt that they would want to be referred to as the “mother.” One time during lecture, one of the instructors “tried” to be inclusive and kind of touch on this idea that LND may not be as heteronormative as we tend to think it is. However, things quickly went south when she started to bring up the example of trans people giving birth. And so she says “ I had a colleague tell me that she one time had a transgender mother, male to female, give birth…” and I don’t know about you, but as far as I know, transwoman cannot give birth – and if somehow they can, PLEASE LET A GIRL KNOW. So essentially, I am 99.99% sure that she meant to say that there was a transgender man who gave birth but instead chose to mis-gender the father who gave birth. Anyway, I hope one day this changed and we see a bigger presence and respect of LGBTQ (esp. Transgender people) in maternity health and in woman’s health in general.*

I have always wanted to be a mom since I could remember, or I guess I’ve always wanted a family of my own and I didn’t know that meant becoming a mother until I realized that I was a transgender woman. A part of my desire to be a mom comes from a desire to make up for the mistakes my mother made raising me – in no way was she the worst mother to have, but we never really saw eye-to-eye, she internalized most of her emotions, she never really understood me, she never really could sympathize/empathize with me, she was never pushing me to go after my goals, it took her forever to accept the fact that I was trans, and along the way made me feel like a complete, worthless piece of shit for being who I am. However, at the end of the day, although I can’t 100% forgive her or honestly say my relationship with her was healthy and beneficial, she is still my mother and luckily she eventually got it together and now accepts me for the woman I am today, her daughter. I want to learn from my parent’s mistakes and be the parent I always wanted/needed growing up to my future children. Additionally, there is a bond you can’t recreate or break between a child and their mother. For example, I wouldn’t say my sister is the most positive mother, she can let her frustration and anger get the best of her around her child, she can be overwhelmed with work or too focused in her personal life to spend whatever time she does have with her child. However, no matter how many times my sister yells at him, spanks him, or leaves him behind to be cared by someone else, my nephew will always tell her how much he loves her and comes to her defense whenever me and my sister fight. This was a complicated lead up to the fact that I part of me wants to have a child so they can unconditionally love me, because I feel so lonely in this world sometimes, to know someone loves me, means the world to me. Although some parts of my desire to be a mom come off as selfish, in all honesty I want to have kids one day to take care of them and smother them with nothing but love, raise them to be “woke” individuals in society, take them to soccer practice or piano lessons, help them with homework, remind them that they matter and no matter how stressful things get, they will overcome all obstacles eventually, support them with whatever career/academic decisions they make, take care of them when they are sick, give them advice on love and life, the list goes on and on. I even have baby names picked out, even though adoption will most likely be my route of raising a family (unless someone wants to give me their second child) – so if I have a newborn son, I want to name him Brandon Mauricio Bolanos, and if I have a newborn girl, I want to name her Jacqueline Celeste Bolanos – cheesy names, I know. So Brandon comes from my obsession of Beverly Hills 90210 from the summer (Brandon Walsh was definitely my dream guy) and Mauricio comes from my father’s middle name and my original birth middle name – a part of me has a little guilt for being trans as I am my father’s only child and I know how important it was for him to have a “son” and I would have been the only person to pass down the family name as all of my cousins on that side of the family are girls. Therefore, I want to give back to my father somehow, but naming my son after him – not that I have a reason to feel guilty for being trans. And in regard to Jacqueline Celeste Bolanos – I just really like those names, it's different, and not something you hear every day. And ideally, I would like a third child (my favorite number happens to be 3), but the name on that one is a TBD for now.

I love the idea of being a mom, and can’t see myself not having a family of my own, but I can’t help to have my fears about it as well. Honestly, my biggest fear is getting into a fight with my child and having the phrase “well you didn’t give birth to me, so you’re not my real mom anyway” – I honestly believe if this ever happens I would kill myself right there and then because that would just crush me beyond the point of any possible repair. I also worry about if my child going to accept that I am trans? Is the world going to accept me as a transgender mom? Are the kids at school going to say to my child about me being trans? Is he going to get bullied for it? What are the moms at the PTA going to say about me? All of these thoughts, good and bad, swirl around my mind whenever I see a birth, or see a pregnant woman on the subway, when I see a baby in a stroller, or when my friends complain about never wanting to give birth, or when people randomly ask me if I want to give birth or if I am a mom. I don’t know if I’ll ever accomplish this goal of becoming a mom, finding someone to help raise our children, I hope that one day they would look up to me as their loving, successful mother and eventually I’ll be trying to keep up with the numerous grandkids I’ll be expecting. Until then, I’ll continue to hold babies like they are my own, envision a future of a full, loving family, and hold my tears back whenever things get emotional, and be optimistic that one day I’ll hear the word “mami” come out the mouth of my son, daughter, or GNC child.

[textsfromumbridge]

Accidental Break-In (E/e)

How do you accidentally break into the wrong apartment? Well, for Eponine Thenardier, it definitely involves a lot of alcohol and a friend with a similar apartment one building down. 

For @hihiyas

....

Her head hurts. 

With the amount of alcohol she’d been mainlining the night before that should not have been such a surprise. Basically, it’s karma. Drinking is a terrible way to deal with her problems, and she should not be indulging in it this much – that is what Marius would say. Actually, that is what Marius will say when he sees her on his couch for the third time this week. And it’s only Thursday – or Friday morning by now.  

Fuck, she is so going to have to face Best Friend Wrath again. 

She pulls the blanket over her head and ponders how Marius managed to find the time between work and dates with his new girlfriend (the girl she still has not met, damn it) to buy a new blanket. This one is way less scratchy than the old one. 

As the sound of feet hitting the floor reaches her sensitive ears, she takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to decrease the chances of puking all over her best friend – again – before she even gets to explain or apologize. And knowing Marius as well as she does (over ten years of friendship will do that to you), she will have to do both. 

“Nice upgrade on the blanket, dude,” she speaks from underneath said blanket. “I mean, this one has a way lower scratch factor. I approve. Also, before you see anything else that will mentally scar you, I’m not wearing pants. Again. I think R puked on them last night because they really fucking stink. Don’t worry, I’m wearing a shirt. Yours, of course, because mine was… well… fucking gross.” 

The shirt is fucking fancy, but her best friend is a fancy lawyer now, so she is only happy that he finally managed to upgrade his wardrobe to match his profession. Gone are the sweaters his grandma made – fugly as they are – and Marius has moved up in the world, to some stylish three-piece suits. She couldn’t find his college band shirts either – which was much more disappointing – so she had to sleep in a crisp white blouse. But at least it’s soft and it smells vaguely of fabric softener. 

Really, the new girlfriend has left Marius almost unrecognizable. 

“Is it safe for me to come out?” she asks, still hiding under the blanket. “Please don’t hate me too much! I promise to quit drinking so much. I swear on my mother’s life. I hate my mom, I know, but I really don’t want her dead. So, I swear!”

Still there is no response from Marius. And even though her best friend is an awkward little shit, he is not usually so quiet, even on a Friday morning. Something is wrong. 

So she peeks, dropping the blanket from her face inch by inch, hoping that she has not interrupted some kind of sexy interlude between Marius and his special lady friend – because she does not want to see that freckled ass again. 

“What the fuck?” she makes her own head hurt with that screech. 

The man staring down at her, holding a baseball bat in his nicely muscled arms – JFC, focus Éponine – is most definitely not her best friend. He is not wearing the ugly flannel pajamas Marius always wears to bed, and he doesn’t have those adorable freckles that almost match Marius’ slightly ginger hair. This guy is taller than her best friend, with slightly wavy blond hair kept in a short ponytail at the base of his neck. His eyes are narrowed, so she can’t really tell what color they are. He looks furious with her. 

“My head hurts,” she groans, gently sitting up. “I don’t know where Marius is, but I’m sure he’s around. Or you can leave a message. I’m going back to sleep.” 

She pulls at the blanket again, only to stop when her bleary eyes catch sight of something that she certainly did not notice when she climbed the fire escape last night: there is a gorgeous cabinet where the TV should be. It’s all vintage looking and she has got to ask Marius where he got the damn thing. 

Only, not a single place of furniture in the apartment looks familiar. The couch is much more comfortable – and probably much more expensive – and she is clutching the softest blanket that has ever touched her skin. There are bookcases everywhere, made of dark wood, and some of the cases are in the exact spot where Marius keeps his stupid PlayStation – even though she beats him every time, he still likes to play. 

He would never get rid of that damn thing, not for any girlfriend. 

Well fuck. 

“I broke into the wrong apartment, didn’t I?” she wants to facepalm badly. 

How did that even happen? Sure, she was pretty damn drunk, but she cannot have been drunk enough to enter the wrong apartment. She knows the route to Marius’ place by heart, and the window was slightly open as usual. Keys are too complicated when she’s drunk, because she has ruined many a key or a lock with drunken stupidity. It’s why Marius refuses to give her a new one until she gets her life together. 

“Who are you?” the blond guy is still gripping the bat tightly. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know Marius Pontmercy?” she avoids the topic. “Cuz I really thought this was his place.” 

Giving her name to a stranger is a bad idea, but this stranger could get her into a lot of trouble, seeing as she basically broke into his apartment and helped herself to some of his stuff – she is wearing his seriously high-quality shirt, and nothing else. It is making her feel kinda sexy, to be honest, and that is not a feeling she usually relates to hung-over mornings. But her legs are bare and tanned as she slips them from underneath the soft blanket – and she watches this stranger get more and more flustered as she reveals more and more skin. 

She’s got some kickass legs, so she’s gotta flaunt them – not just to distract the cutie from filing charges, but also because she doesn’t often get to feel this sexy. The urge to vomit has pretty much passed, so she has no problems standing up, facing the stranger with what she hopes is a sultry smile on her face. 

“But I really like this a lot better than facing an angry best friend,” she grins. 

With a final peck to his cheek, she is out the door, holding her stinking clothes at a distance, hoping to figure out how she ended up at the stranger’s apartment. And trying to figure out how she can ‘accidentally’ end up there again. 

e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e

Her drinking habits have improved a little after that night – ‘cause she’s sure the next stranger won’t be so nice about it. She kinda wants to keep her record as clean as it’s gonna get, so anymore accidental break-ins would not be a good idea. 

Seriously, if she’s ever gonna finish up grad school (so fucking expensive), she’ll have to stay on the right side of the law. Seriously, no one is gonna trust her with kids if her record gets any worse than it already is. Some minor infractions from her wild teenage kicks aside, she’s being doing pretty well. She shouldn’t fuck that up. 

So she only goes out drinking on weekends now, and she takes either Marius or his new girlfriend – who knew he was dating her old foster sister? – with her as a chaperone, to make sure she gets home safe and doesn’t flash any more strangers her panties. 

Though she doubts that apartment guy minded all that much. 

She was wearing her good panties and everything; the ones without tears or holes in them, the ones that make her skin look tan and gorgeous. So if he did get an eyeful when she hightailed it the hell out of there…. Well, she committed a stupid crime, but she did look gorgeous when making her escape. At least there’s that. 

Really, she’s been waiting for the cops to arrive at her place every day now, and it’s been about a week without so much as a word. No flashing lights or angry beat cops, no hostile knocks on the door – at least not from anyone looking for her. Her roommate has managed to piss off some sorority girls, which was entertaining for a little while. 

Since they’re both grad students, they should not be involved in this petty shit. But it’s just so fucking entertaining. 

So it’s with a bounce in her step that she walks into the seriously boring office building that happens to house the law firm Marius works for. Sure, in a few years she might work in a boring office of her own, but there’d better be some really fucking awesome decorations to make things bearable. 

There’s a ridiculous amount of security present, but they don’t make her feel a damn bit safer about Marius’ employment at a firm that has a reputation for taking on controversial cases. She sneaks past all the men with ease, making a note to tell Marius that the lobby is totally not safe. At all – because let’s be real, if a retired petty thief can sneak past these people, dangerous people can do so as well. 

On her way upstairs, she takes a flying leap into a mostly empty elevator of which the doors are about to close. She makes it just in time, landing against a hard surface that feels surprisingly like a man’s chest. 

Her good day just turned into a great one. 

“Thanks for catching me,” she grins before extricating herself. 

“It’s you!” the man in question speaks. 

She looks up – well fuck! It is the guy from last month, the one whose apartment she broke into during her quest to get drunk every single night of the week. That epic quest had to be discontinued after that night – because breaking and entering is bad, mmkay? 

“Shit,” she is eloquent as usual. 

This kind of coincidence is ridiculous? What even are the odds of running into him a second time, especially a second time when looking for Marius? She is sure one of Marius’ brainiac friends could calculate that for her. But that’s so not the point, because right now she just really needs an exit plan. 

Getting arrested again would be really bad – it would ruin the excellent streak she’s been on since she started being a good girl in senior year of high school. 

“Please don’t have me arrested,” she decides to just come out with it. 

They are the only two people in the elevator, and she only has about seven floors to convince him. And since this elevator is shooting up way too fast, that does not leave her with that much time to get persuasive. 

“It was an accident,” she tells him, hands moving frantically. “Your apartment is like, exactly where my friend’s is, only one building to the left. Total drunken accident!” 

With one eye on the doors, she tries to guess just how much time she has left before she can make her escape. Ten seconds? Fifteen? Maybe twenty if she is really unlucky and other people need to join them in awkwardness. 

When the elevator finally stops on the right floor, she jumps out, trying not to trip over her own feet as she makes her escape. 

Guess this is the last time she’ll pick up Marius at work. 

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Supposedly the guest lecturer is this brilliant mind who graduated from high school at age 16 and managed to get through college and law school so fast that he’s one of the best and the brightest in the law world before his thirtieth birthday. Nobody is telling her his exact age, but he should not be that much older than the students. 

And while she hopes the class is actually interesting, she mostly just hopes that the guy is hot. She needs someone else to think about other than the guy whose apartment she broke into – she should not still be thinking about how hot he was and about his shirt that is still hiding in her closet. 

Yeah, she might actually keep that, like the pathetic weirdo she is. 

Anyway, so, this guest lecture. She doesn’t technically have to be here, but she figures her presence might appease the professor – because she’s been a bit absent in classes lately. She blames the guy she burgled. The shirt totally counts as stealing. 

That just makes it worse. Great. 

“Welcome everyone,” the professor wears a smug grin. “I want to introduce Gabriel Enjolras, graduate of this very university and now a prominent lawyer at Chandler, Finn, and Smith. He will be speaking today on his experience with family law.” 

She looks up just in time to see familiar eyes boring into hers – of course it’s the same guy she was just thinking about. Of course she actually accidentally broke into the apartment of a sort of famous lawyer. Well, fuck. 

There goes her career. 

“Thank you for having me, professor Mendez,” he has to acknowledge their leader. “I know that the details of law might not be to your particular interest in this class, but I will try to focus on the cases that be most relevant to you as a class.” 

Now she has to remain focused on this lecture – because she really is interested in family law – while hoping she can escape immediately after this class. And at the same time, she has to try not to be too obvious about her drooling over his stupid physique that she should not be focusing on. 

Seriously, somehow she noticed his looks that first time, and apparently her drunken/hung-over memory is much better than she ever imagined it to be, because she has been unable to get him out of her head ever since that moment. The wavy hair, still in a ponytail. The eyes that might be gray or blue depending on the light. 

He is still the same and she can’t stop staring like a stupid, naïve high school girl.  

Maybe she should just get all the staring done while she still can – she doubts that the police officers he is undoubtedly sending her way after this will be as visually appealing as he is. Shit, she is so totally fucked, and not in the good way. 

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When she finds him in her favorite chair at her favorite coffee shop, she is seriously fucking tempted to back away slowly and just go on without her desperately needed dose of caffeine. Seriously, if he hasn’t had her arrested yet, she can’t keep tempting him to do so by showing up everywhere he is. 

Not that she is doing that on purpose, but karma is a fucking bitch, and she has clearly pissed off that bitch one too many times. 

But really, if she has to deal with an all-nighter for that fucking paper she should have gotten started on days ago, she is going to need that coffee. And this is the only place around that actually has decent coffee for a decent price. 

So she might just have to face the beast. 

“Funny running into you here,” she decides to just walk up to him and get the awkward encounter over with. “Enjolras, was it?” 

She does have the advantage of knowing his name when he does not know hers. Sure, giving him custody over the shirt would be going too far – it is just so damn comfy – but she is going to at least try to be nice to him. 

“Éponine,” he acknowledges her and she tries not to look too flabbergasted. 

It is taking everything for her to keep her mouth shut and not ask him just how he knows her name. As far as she knows, they are complete strangers. Heck, the only reason she knows his stupid name is because he is semi-famous in his field. There are no such honors attached to her name, so it makes absolutely no sense for him to know anything about her other than her terrible drinking habits. 

“Well, I think we’ve moved past mere coincidence at this point,” she waves at ‘Chetta behind the counter, trying to keep things light and pleasant. “Once is awkward, two is a coincidence, and three is a pattern. We’re at accidental meeting number four.” 

Maybe they should just talk things through, get the awkwardness – and inevitable arrest – out of the way. Because if things keep going like this, next week she is going to find him in her dorm room, talking to her roommate like they’re old friends. That is how Bizarro World her life has gotten since she first met him. 

“I doubt this will be the last one,” Enjolras looks her in the eye ever so briefly before looking away again. “I do work at the same firm as your friend Marius. I assume our paths are bound to cross again because of him.” 

She can be civil if he is too – well, shit, not that civil is the right word here. 

“I promise not to have you arrested,” he adds, and she takes a relieved breath. 

“That’s all I ask of you,” she awkwardly quips. 

Because he damn well discombobulates her, she is off like a shot, snagging her coffee from ‘Chetta and tossing a crumpled bill at her friend that hopefully covers at least some of her outstanding bills. No time to talk, no time to even look at her friend or that damn guy again before she is out the door and on her way. 

Dwelling on how he flusters her would just be a bad idea. It’s not just the threat of arrest that was hanging over her head until now, it’s just how she can never be composed around him. 

Well, clearly she’ll have to learn, because karma still has a bone to pick with her. 

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Azelma’s clunker stands out a bit in the midst of the drive-in, but they’re paying that no mind. And why would they, when Casablanca was about to start on the biggest screen they’d ever been able to watch it on? 

Of course, the minute the lame previews start and her attention starts to drift, she spots a familiar figure a few cars over. His blonde hair is still in that ponytail, and he is dressed a little too formally for a night spent watching a movie in his car. 

He’s everywhere she is, so why not here? 

“I told Courf to meet me here,” Azelma is so very late to mention. “You won’t mind entertaining his friend, right? If he’s super boring, you can always ignore him to watch the movie.” 

Ever since Azelma and Courfeyrac (what even is his first name?) started getting serious, she’s been bailing on sister time for her damn boyfriend. Really, Eponine should have known when Azelma agreed to the outing without concern for a night spent away from her boyfriend – because she wasn’t going to be apart from him. 

“Fine,” she huffs. 

At least she’ll always have Paris. 

“His name is Gabriel something,” Azelma continues. 

Seriously? Does karma hate her that much? Is that still a thing? Does she really have to run into him everywhere? 

Not that she doesn’t want to see him – she is very appreciative of the visual he presents – but to be forced to see him and have it be so awkward every single time is not really her idea of fun. Somehow she always comes across as such a complete mess when he’s around, and he seems all too put together. For once, she’d like to see him on her terms, when she’s ready for him. 

She’s sure she can make his jaw drop a time or two, leave him discombobulated for once – she can be pretty and funny and impressive. Well, for twice maybe, because she did leave him kind of stunned and in awe when she ran out of his apartment half naked. Maybe nudity is what it takes to surprise him. 

“Courf, baby,” Azelma is already all over him – no surprise there. 

Gabriel Enjolras is trying really hard to avoid getting in the way of the way too amorous reunion. Luckily for him, Azelma and Courfeyrac appear to be heading in the direction of his car. Only, that does leave Enjolras with Eponine. 

“We meet again,” she grins.  

“So we do,” he is not a man of many words right now. 

Well, she can deal with that. She climbs back into Azelma’s car, motioning for him to follow – she doesn’t want to miss the movie. 

“This does explain why Courfeyrac suddenly wanted to see Casablanca,” he mutters as he climbs into the passenger seat. 

He has to slide the seat backwards quite a bit, and she is trying not to be too obvious about how she’s eyeing him. He’s just so tall, and he’s looking handsome, and if they’d met any other way, she might have tried to make something out of it. But not even the great Eponine Thenardier can make burglary into a meet-cute, right? 

“If you’re saying you hate this movie, I’ll kick you out of this car,” she warns. 

She is not even joking much. 

“I could never hate a true classic,” he quickly replies. 

“Good,” she grins. “And I promise not to steal anything this time.” 

Why not make a joke out of it? He already said he wouldn’t report her, so it’s time to let it be an inside joke instead of a source of anxiety. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he’s smiling too. 

And then they’re quiet, listening to the movie and trying to pretend they aren’t looking at each other. She’s sneakier about it than he is, but even the great Eponine Thenardier gets caught sometimes. 

If they keep getting thrown in each other’s paths, why not enjoy it? 

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It’s been a whole week since the drive-in, and she hasn’t seen him. She hasn’t accidentally run into him at the coffee shop again, she hasn’t been by to visit Marius at his office, and clearly the universe is sick of throwing them at each other. And that sucks, because it chooses to quit just when she actually wants to run into him. 

She had a great time at the drive-in. He didn’t try to talk through the movie, and he snuck back to Courfeyrac’s car to get them some snacks that technically weren’t quite allowed. When she teased him about her being a bad influence on him, he went with it, displaying a sense of humor she hadn’t seen much more than a glimpse of before. She was intrigued, even more so than before. So here she is, standing in front of his door on a Friday night, hoping he’ll actually be home. Actually, she is pretty sure he will be home, but she is just unsure if he will want to see her again. He didn’t ask for her number after the movie, so clearly he isn’t interested in her the way she is in him. 

Ugh, this feeling is so disappointing for a badass such as herself, but she is going to power through it. 

The doorbell sounds, and she waits for a response, awkwardly holding the newly washed shirt. She hates that she has to return it, but if he’s not interested, it might be for the best. It would be too awkward to have a random shirt belonging to him at her house, especially if their paths crossed again in the future. They probably will, knowing how the universe likes to mess with her.

“Eponine,” Enjolras is smiling when he opens the door. 

“Gabriel,” she has to grin in return. “I came by to bring back your shirt.” 

Or, actually, she is using that shirt as a damn good excuse. Hopefully he’ll see right through her and appreciate the effort. Ugh, she is so beyond wishful thinking, but he’s making her. 

“It probably looks better on you,” he says. 

And then he blushes, making her think that he really did not mean to let that slip. It’s a very good sign, and the blush is actually working for him. 

“Do you want to come in?” Enjolras recovers quickly. 

She walks in without another word – because did he really think that she was going to say no to that? 

When she walks back out the next morning, she is wearing the shirt. 

At least this time she didn’t have to sleep on the couch.

[carmichael-psychology]

Coping with Quarantine Life: 4 Simple Tips from a Clinical Psychologist!

Quarantine life has been called “the new normal” over the past couple of months. Although it may be “normal” in the sense that it’s become common, it is understandably not feeling at all normal to us in terms of our wellbeing: in fact, quarantine life can pose some very unique challenges.  While I can’t take that stress away, as a clinical psychologist I can offer some practical tips to handle quarantine life from a cognitive, behavioral, and emotional perspective. Some of the tips I offer will be exercises or other behaviors you can try, and some of them will be just simple ideas on perspectives that may be helpful.  Many of the ideas and exercises will actually be helpful to you even after quarantine, so take heart in knowing you’re increasing your proverbial toolbox in ways that will be useful even when COVID19 is a thing of the past, at least in terms of pandemic levels.  If you’re open to ideas on personal growth, then you’ve come to the right place!

Let’s start by remembering that each person is in a slightly different situation, and each person has slightly different needs.  This means that you may find some of the ideas here to be really helpful, and some of them not-- of course I encourage you to take what works for you and leave the rest.  Take comfort in knowing that the act of viewing some options and choosing the best ideas for yourself is actually part of a healthy process of self-efficacy and self-care, where you are getting in touch with your own needs and deliberately choosing whatever techniques seem best for you. Without further ado, here are some tips to consider.

1. Let yourself chill: Many of us feel a responsibility to use our quarantine time to tackle projects.  If you feel revved up to do this, good for you!  By all means do it.  On the other hand, if you find yourself wanting to sleep more, sometimes just sit quietly and let yourself idle, or do other things that might seem less productive on the surface, give yourself some latitude-- you might actually be “doing” more than you realize.  Quarantine life can stimulate us to think about big topics, consciously or unconsciously (things like our sense of connection to others, mortality fears for our parents, and financial issues, to name a few).  When the mind is processing all these things “in the background”, plus adjusting to a big change in routine, it is normal and oftentimes HEALTHY to allow some time for your mind to settle itself without any pressure to jump into projects. In fact, many studies have shown that creativity often spikes just after a moment of boredom or mental idle time.  While it can sometimes be good to push yourself to take the first step on projects since the first step is often the hardest, it can also be wise to listen to yourself if you feel a strong pull to just watch the proverbial paint dry for a bit.

2. The Zone of Control:  If you find your mind is brimming with concerns, a good first step is often to sort those concerns out into two major categories:  The items you CAN control, and the items you CANNOT control.  When our mind is full of concerns, we often feel a sense of anxiety-- remember that the HEALTHY function of anxiety is actually to stimulate preparatory behaviors.  That’s why we can feel jittery or get some extra adrenaline, sweaty palms, or a restless feeling from anxiety.

This might sound weird, but it can be helpful to frame the extra adrenaline and nerves we sometimes feel from anxiety  as mother nature’s GIFT of extra energy to help us take healthy action around our stressors.  That’s why it’s important not to waste the energy on things we can’t even control.  For example, stressing yourself out regarding whether your parents will get COVID is mainly beyond your control so you might want to tell yourself compassionately to focus yourself instead on things you CAN control, such as giving them extra phone calls and nice notes in the mail to express your love for them.  Another example would be stressing about when lockdown will end:  We can’t control when lockdown will end, so stressing about that question can be counterproductive-- but we CAN control how we’ll spend our lockdown time, potentially building healthy routines including meditation or even a brief 5-minute burst of physical exercise every morning that will benefit us even after quarantine life is finally over!  We can also control how we self-soothe the stress we feel about lockdown.  Keep reading to learn more!

3. Journal: Journaling is a super convenient way to pay attention to yourself.  Many times, anxiety or other forms of mental stress are really craving attention-- and if we block them out or refuse to listen, the anxiety can fester or start intensifying so that it can grab your attention.  Not listening to our feelings can also lead to feelings of numbness since we have disconnected from ourselves.  The good news is that journaling will often help restore your connection with yourself, or allow you to build on your connection in a positive way.  Many psychologists believe that part of the reason humans evolved into such intelligent beings with such  sophisticated societies is because we have the gift of language, which allows us to observe and develop our thoughts.  A good way to take advantage of this gift is to journal.  If you find yourself feeling blank, just challenge yourself to fill up a half-page every day, even if it’s simply you writing down that you don’t know what to say-- that in itself is actually part of you getting in touch with yourself and putting your experience into words. If journaling stirs up some heavy or uncomfortable feelings, please thank yourself for journaling to get clarity on them-- remember that journaling did not CREATE these feelings, it just helped you see what they are so that you can potentially talk to a trusted person and get support with what you’re feeling. Oftentimes, the simple act of sharing with another person helps to increase comfort levels because it’s a behavioral signal to yourself that you’re not shouldering the challenge totally alone, and sometimes it even sparks creative discussion around how to handle the feelings or challenges  Speaking of support:

4. Lean on others-- it will help them too!: Many people are hesitant to call a friend or family member and ask to talk about challenges they’re having, because they’re afraid it will be a burden.  You may be pleasantly surprised to learn that actually, psychology studies show that asking others for support tends to make people feel special and valued, because you are recognizing them as an intelligent and sensitive person. So, if you try the Zone of Control exercise above and discover that you’re overwhelmed with things you can’t control, or if you journal and get in touch with some difficult feelings, consider asking a trusted friend, family member, or therapist to review the material with you.  You may be surprised to see that adding a fresh perspective helps bring new ideas to manage challenges-- or even just experiencing a supportive conversation where you see clearly that you’re not alone can be extremely helpful.

Conclusion:  The stressors we encounter in life are much less important than how we handle them.  This is why some people who have extreme challenges of third-world poverty or terminal illness are somehow still able to find happiness and joy; while others who have endless resources may struggle to find happiness.  The key takeaway here is that although COVID19 and quarantine life are tremendously challenging, our coping strategies are a huge part of what will shape how much these stressors actually impact us emotionally.  So, please do yourself a favor and make sure you are getting lots of support.  In fact, I’m offering a FREE livestream event with more of my favorite coping strategies, I hope you will CLICK HERE to join me!

Dr. Chloe will be holding a FREE live stream on May 29 at 2:00 pm EST, sharing her expert techniques and advice for Coping with COVID!

REGISTER HERE!