#and figured i'd do that while i'm reading in order to sort of

[kikiyo]

it's laundry day and i desperately want to write :3

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 03

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 11.8 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

author's note — hey everyone! i'm back with a new chapter, and i know it's been a while. this time, we're diving back into suguru's head to explore his conflicting feelings. as always, this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting after chapter 12, but it can be read as a standalone. this chapter takes place during the events of chapter 14, where things were pretty intense, so get ready for suguru's perspective on those events, plus some extra bonding time with a certain law student.

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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(note: r&r reader)

What a strange fucking day.

The coffee from the hospital cafeteria tasted like burnt rubber, leaving a bitter aftertaste that matched my state perfectly. Everything felt slightly out of sorts, like the world had shifted two inches to the left while I wasn't looking, and I was the only one who noticed.

I'd put on mismatched socks this morning, didn't notice until I was already at work. Stepped in a puddle that somehow soaked through my supposedly waterproof shoes. Small things, really. Inconsequential. But they piled up like evidence that I wasn't quite myself lately.

And on top of that, my mind kept drifting back to the sports bar, to easy laughter and surprisingly good conversation. To someone who actually managed to make me forget about work for a few hours. It was... nice. Different. Unsettling. Probably why I let things get carried away. 

What the hell had gotten into me?

I wasn't the type to hook up in bar bathrooms. I didn't do reckless. I was the responsible one, always cleaning up other people's messes — usually Satoru's. 

Yet here I was, distracted and unfocused because of a law student who somehow got under my skin without me even realizing it. Frustrating. That's what it was.

I stared at the ruined samples in front of me, the third batch I'd had to throw out this morning. A stupid beginner's mistake — mixing the reagents in the wrong order like some first-year med student. The solution had turned an ugly shade of red instead of the pale blue it was supposed to be, completely useless now.

I slammed the test tube rack down harder than necessary, making the glass containers rattle. A few drops of the failed experiment splashed onto my lab coat. Perfect. Just perfect.

I glanced at Satoru across the lab bench. He'd been staring at the same equation for twenty minutes now, his leg bouncing that infuriating rhythm that made me want to stab him with my pen. The same nervous energy that had been radiating off him all morning. Neither of us was really focused on work it seemed.

"You going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to guess?" I finally asked, perhaps partly to distract myself from my own thoughts.

He blinked, as if just remembering I was there. "Nothing's wrong."

"Really? Because you've been glaring at that formula for like an hour."

"Maybe I just enjoy looking at my own handwriting. It's pretty, isn't it? Unlike yours."

"At least the nurses can read my prescriptions without three callbacks."

"That was one time." He spun in his chair to face me. "And the pharmacy figured it out eventually."

I need a cigarette.

No, I need several cigarettes.

I was about to retort when a soft knock echoed through the lab. We both turned toward the door, and suddenly all my annoyance vanished. It was her.

Standing there in the doorway, clutching a folder to her chest, looking almost nervous. Her eyes darted between Satoru and me, and I could see the moment she registered the awkwardness of the situation.

She was wearing a crisp blazer, her hair pulled back neatly — every inch the professional law intern. Maybe it was the confused sleep deprivation talking, but I swore I caught a hint of pink creeping across her cheeks when our eyes briefly met before she looked away.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't expect to find you both here."

Satoru straightened up, his demeanor shifting instantly to doctor mode. "Everything okay? Is it your medication?"

"No, no," she quickly assured him. "Actually, I'm here about the... um, the legal consultation from the other day?" She held up the folder. "Mr. Higurama asked me to get both your signatures on these forms."

"More paperwork?" Satoru groaned theatrically. "They really love their forms at that firm, don't they? I bet they have forms for their forms."

She laughed — not the bold, uninhibited laugh from the bar, but something smaller, more contained. Professional. It was strange seeing her like this, all sharp edges and formal wear, when just days ago we'd been trading stories over beer and darts.

"Well," she said, stepping fully into the lab, "we do love forms, yes." Her eyes landed on the mess of failed experiments on our benches, the chaos of scribbles on the whiteboard. I just now realized how utterly chaotic the whole lab was. "Bad time?"

"No," I said, maybe too quickly. "Just a rough morning in the lab."

"Rough morning?" Satoru raised an eyebrow. "This is the first time I've seen him mess up this experiment since university. Usually he's annoyingly perfect."

I shot him a look that promised murder. Or at least severe bodily harm.

She glanced between us, a hint of unease, her fingers tightening on the folder as she took a small step back. "Should I come back later? When there's less...chaos?"

"No, it's fine," I said, reaching for the folder. Our fingers brushed as she handed it over, and I found myself wondering if she was still thinking about that night too. Probably not. She was just here doing her job.

I opened the folder, scanning the documents inside. More forms about professional conduct and boundaries. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"These need both our signatures?" I asked.

She nodded. "Mr. Higurama was very specific about that."

I grabbed a pen and signed where indicated, then passed the folder to Satoru. As he signed, I caught her stifling a yawn.

"Long night?" I asked.

"Just law student things," she replied with a tired smile. "Coffee and case studies until 3 AM."

"Sounds familiar," I said, thinking of my own sleepless night, though for very different reasons. "Though I prefer my all-nighters with better coffee than whatever they serve at that firm."

"Our coffee is not that bad actually—"

Before she could finish, Satoru thrust the folder at her. "Here," he said. "All signed and ready to go back to the fun police." He glanced at his phone, then suddenly stood up. "Speaking of which, I need to go. Got a... thing."

A thing? I raised an eyebrow at him, but he was already halfway to the door. "Don't mess up any more experiments, Suguru," he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving us alone in the now quiet space.

She stood there, folder clutched to her chest, looking unsure. "Is Dr. Gojo okay? He seems a bit on edge."

"Not more than usual, I guess."

"So that failed experiment over there?" She gestured past me with her finger.

I glanced at my failed experiment, which had now turned an alarming shade of green that definitely wasn't in any textbook I'd ever read. Either I'd just discovered a new chemical compound, or I was about to violate several safety protocols. Possibly both.

"Observant. They teach you that in law school?"

"No, that's just natural talent," she said, some of that bar night ease creeping back into her voice. "Though I have to say, watching things change color isn't usually part of my job description."

"Consider it a bonus lesson in chemistry." Before I could overthink it, I heard myself asking, "Have you had lunch yet?"

She hesitated, shifting the folder in her arms. "I should probably get these back to Mr. Higurama—" Just then, the folder slipped from her grasp, papers scattering across the lab floor. "Oh god," she muttered, immediately dropping to her knees to gather them.

In her haste to collect the papers, she bumped into the lab bench. The rack of test tubes rattled precariously. I lunged forward, managing to catch the rack just as it started to tip, but not before one of the tubes spilled its contents onto the counter.

"I'm so sorry!" She scrambled to her feet, papers clutched messily to her chest, her cheeks now bright red. "I swear I wasn't trying to sabotage your experiments. Though they were already ruined anyway—not that that makes it better! I just meant—"

I watched her frantically trying to collect the papers, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the chaos. "I'll pay," I offered, cutting off her rambling. "Besides, we should probably get going, that failed experiment's probably going to turn purple next and who knows what happens then."

She paused mid-reach for another paper, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Are you threatening me with your failed experiment to get me to have lunch with you?"

"Is it working?"

She glanced at the door where Satoru had disappeared, then back at me, fidgeting with the crumpled papers in her arms. "You know what? Yeah. If you really want to—I mean, after I almost destroyed your lab—"

"Well, you're certainly making my morning more interesting."

She tried to smooth out the crumpled papers, only managing to wrinkle them more. "Oh, I mean—Is that a good thing? Because I can't tell if you're complimenting me or—"

"Come on, Attorney, let's get you away from any breakable objects," I said, already shrugging off my lab coat and heading for the door. "I know a good place and trust me after that, you'll never defend that law firm sludge again."

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(note: r&r reader)

The café was tucked away in a narrow alley, the kind of place you'd walk right past unless you knew what you were looking for. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of freshly ground coffee beans and something sweet baking in the back.

She looked around, taking in the worn leather chairs and mismatched mugs, the walls lined with old medical textbooks and vintage anatomy charts. "So this is where all the doctors hide out?"

"Best kept secret in the hospital district," I said, leading her to a small table by the window. "Though I'm pretty sure I'm violating some sacred code by bringing a lawyer here."

The owner, an elderly man who'd been serving coffee to sleep-deprived medical staff for longer than I'd been alive, brought over two cups without us having to order. The coffee was served in glass cups, the dark liquid nearly black, with a perfect crema on top.

"What is this?" she asked, leaning forward to inspect the cup.

"Just trust me."

She raised an eyebrow. "The last time a doctor told me to 'just trust them,' I ended up with a prescription that made me sleep for sixteen hours straight."

"Satoru's work, I assume?"

"Maybe."

I watched as she lifted the cup, inhaling. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh."

"Try it," I said, finding myself oddly invested in her reaction.

She took a careful sip, and I couldn't help but smile as her expression changed — surprise, then joy, then something close to awe.

"Holy shit," she whispered, staring at the cup like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Better than the law firm sludge?"

"Okay, fine, you win." She took another sip, closing her eyes. "What is this?"

"Family secret, apparently. The owner won't tell anyone, not even me." I picked up my own cup. "Though I have my theories."

"Care to share?"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality."

She kicked me lightly under the table. "I'm not your patient."

"No," I agreed, the words carrying more weight than I'd intended. "You're not."

She looked away, suddenly very interested in the anatomy chart on the wall, a slight flush creeping up her neck. I caught myself enjoying her reaction more than I probably should.

"You know," I said, breaking the silence, "you still haven't shown me your paintings."

Her eyes snapped back to mine. "What?"

"At the bar, you promised to show me your work someday." I took another sip of coffee. "Unless that was just the alcohol talking."

"I did not promise anything," she protested, but her fingers fidgeted with the handle of her cup. "And I don't really show my work to people."

I leaned back in my chair, studying her. "Not even to doctors who hold your hand during MRI scans?"

"Especially not to doctors who do such unethical things, Dr. Geto." But there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I seem to recall you saying my hands were very good or something."

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she fumbled with her coffee cup, nearly sending it sloshing over the rim. "I did not say that."

"No? Must have been another patient then."

"Can we please pretend I never said anything about your hands?" She shifted in her seat, clearly flustered. "Or anything else that happened that day?"

"Show me your paintings and I might consider selective amnesia."

"Are you actually blackmailing me with my own embarrassing moments?" She leaned forward slightly. "I should sue you for violation of doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Please don't. I have enough lawyers breathing down my neck as it is."

"Oh, I know." Her lips twitched into a smile. "Your case files take up an entire cabinet at the firm."

"Now who's the unethical one?" I couldn't help but smile. "Pretty sure those files are supposed to be confidential."

"See the positive." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she propped her chin on her hand. Her sleeve slid down slightly. "I can help you. Though my rates are quite steep—one painting viewing equals one legal consultation."

"Brutal negotiation tactics. They're teaching you well at that firm."

She bit her lip, fighting back a grin. The gesture was distracting in a way I didn't want to examine too closely. Then, she wrapped her hands around her cup, leaning forward slightly. "Speaking of teaching, how's that research project going?"

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "Can we not? I'd rather hear about your law stuff."

"Oh god no," she groaned in return, slumping back in her chair. "Let's not talk about that either."

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea. Just endless stacks of papers and Chad being... well, Chad."

"Chad?" I raised an eyebrow.

"This awful intern who thinks he owns the place because his dad's some stupid partner. Like, today he tried to take credit for my research on the Yamamoto case, which, by the way, I spent three nights working on. And then he had the nerve to correct my citations in front of everyone, except he was wrong. He was completely wrong, and everyone knew it, but nobody said anything because, you know, his dad and everything—" 

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as if just realizing she'd been rambling again. Her hands fluttered nervously around her coffee cup. "Sorry, I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"No," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "I like hearing you talk."

Her eyes met mine, startled. "You do?"

"Yeah. It's... refreshing, I mean hearing about anything that's not related to someone's blood and lab work." I traced the rim of my cup with my finger. "Is this Chad giving you trouble? Because I could always stop by the firm, maybe have a word with him."

She let out a startled laugh, then immediately looked embarrassed by how loud it was. A few other people glanced our way, making her shrink slightly in her seat.

"What, are you offering to intimidate him for me?"

"I can be quite intimidating when I want to be."

"That's a weird thing to say about oneself."

"You say way more weird things." I glanced at my watch and couldn't help but sigh. "Speaking of intimidating, I've got a class of overconfident med students waiting."

"Oh." She looked up. "Right, of course."

I should leave it at that. Get up, go back to work, stop whatever this is before it gets complicated. I have enough on my plate with the research, with Satoru acting weird, with everything else. The last thing I need is to get involved with—

My hand brushed against the crumpled paper in my coat pocket. That flyer some art student had thrust into my hands this morning at the campus entrance, just like they did to everyone else rushing past. 

"Actually, there's this art exhibition next weekend at the city gallery."

What the hell am I doing?

She blinked at me, her coffee cup frozen halfway to her mouth. "Are you... are you asking me to go to an art exhibition?"

This is stupid. I don't even like art exhibitions. They're crowded and pretentious, and I have better things to do with my weekend. Like work. Or sleep. Or literally anything else. I'm really not quite myself lately.

"I mean, if you want to. I don't understand much about art, but—" I rubbed the back of my neck. "If you show me what to look for, I'm sure I'll like it."

That sounded so lame. Why am I even doing this?

"You mean that?" she asked. "Because you don't have to pretend to be interested in art just because I—"

"I want to," I cut her off. "Besides, maybe you can explain to me why people pay millions for paintings of soup cans."

She laughed, that genuine, unguarded sound from the bar, and I was glad I hadn't thrown the flyer away. "Those are Warhol, and they're actually a commentary on mass production and consumer culture in—" She stopped herself, cheeks flushing. "And I'm doing it again."

"Saturday at 6?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Saturday at 6 sounds good."

As I stood to leave, the absurdity of the situation hit me. Here I was, voluntarily signing up for an afternoon of art appreciation. What was wrong with me? 

The closest thing to art in my apartment is that anatomy poster Satoru got me as a joke last Christmas. If he ever found out about this, I'd never hear the end of it. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care.

It wasn't until I was back in my office at the university, staring at a stack of research papers, that I realized something strange — I hadn't smoked since morning. My usual lunchtime cigarette break had come and gone without me even noticing. 

My pack sat untouched in my coat pocket. I pulled it out now, turning it over in my hands, and somehow I found myself oddly looking forward to learning about soup cans.

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(note: s&c reader)

The lecture went fine. It always did.

Talk about neurons, synapses, action potentials. Watch sleepy med students pretend to take notes while secretly checking their phones. Answer the same questions I'd answered a hundred times before. Rinse and repeat.

Now, hours later, I was back in the lab. The chaos from this morning had been methodically cleaned away. New solutions mixed, properly this time. Everything in its place, color-coded and labeled with my precise handwriting.

The lab was quiet at this hour. Just the soft hum of equipment and the occasional footsteps in the hallway outside. It was peaceful, in its own way. Or maybe just lonely.

I checked my watch — 5:47 PM. I should probably head home, but then what? Watch some mindless TV show? Read another research paper? Order takeout that would sit in my fridge until it went bad? God, when did my life become this predictable?

The solution in front of me turned the correct shade of blue this time. Finally. I made a note in my lab book, but my mind wandered. About Satoru's strange behavior. About her. About how she looked at Satoru like he hung the moon and stars just for her.

I pushed away from the bench so forcefully my chair squeaked against the floor. My hands were already reaching for my cigarettes before I made it to the window. The night air was cool against my face as I lit up, inhaling deeply.

This was exactly what I didn't need to think about. Not now. Not ever. Focus on the research. On the failed experiments. On anything else but the ache that threatened to consume me whenever I let my mind wander in her direction.

The cigarette burned down too quickly. I lit another one immediately. What kind of person fell for their best friend's girlfriend? What kind of friend was I to even—

No. Stop that train of thought right there.

The smoke curled up into the night sky, hoping it would carry with it all the things I couldn't let myself feel. All the words I couldn't say. All the moments I'd had to watch them together, pretending my heart wasn't being torn to shreds. I'm pathetic.

I exhaled another cloud of smoke into the night air. Maybe that was why I asked about the art exhibition. God knew I could use the distraction. From the research, from Satoru, from her.

And she — there was something in her eyes. That familiar look of someone drowning in circumstances they couldn't control. She needed a break too, probably more than she admitted. Maybe this Chad was partly responsible. Speaking of Chad—

I tapped my cigarette against the windowsill. It wouldn't be hard to figure out his real name. Law firms kept records of their interns, and with his father being a partner. One quick search in the hospital database and I could probably find something interesting in his medical history. Everyone had secrets. Maybe something embarrassing. Something that would make him think twice about—

What the hell am I thinking? I stubbed out my cigarette, leaving a black smear. Great. Now I'm contemplating abusing my position to dig up dirt on some spoiled law intern. Real professional, Suguru. Really living up to that ethical conduct seminar.

Though the thought of his smug face when he tried to take credit for her work—

No. Absolutely not. I'm better than that.

I lit another cigarette, trying to ignore how satisfying the idea was. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Saturday at 6.

At least that was something to look forward to. Something normal. Well, as normal as anything could be when you were a neurosurgeon voluntarily going to an art exhibition with a law student who was also your patient, technically. What did people even wear to art exhibitions?

My pen tapped against the lab book as my phone buzzed.

[2:34 PM] s&c reader: Need any help in the lab today? I can come in if you want.

[2:35 PM] Me: Just boring prep work left. Take the day off.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

[2:37 PM] s&c reader: You sure? I can help with the prep too.

[2:37 PM] Me: Rest. Doctor's orders.

[2:40 PM] s&c reader: I hate when you say that.

I found myself smiling at my phone, picturing her frustrated face as she typed that. She was probably pouting right now, hunched over her textbooks in the library, annoyed that I'd pulled rank. That stubborn set of her jaw when she tried not to admit defeat. Just like him.

The smile faded as quickly as it had come. I immediately set my phone down and took a deep breath. I should be thinking about the research. About tumor markers and treatment protocols. Not about my student who was probably still in the library despite my orders to rest.

No. Not about her at all.

I glanced at my phone again, fighting the urge to text her back. Focus, I told myself. Work. Don't do anything stupid. God, this day really couldn't get any more fucking frustrating. 

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

(note: s&c reader)

The lab was quiet.

I'd been at this for hours, my eyes straining in the bright light of the laminar flow hood, my back aching from hunching over the bench. The familiar chemical smell of ethanol lingered in my nostrils from the endless rounds of sterilizing equipment. 

I straightened up, rolling my shoulders in a futile attempt to ease the knots. A glance at the clock told me it was late, far later than I'd intended to stay. 

The steady hum of the cell incubator behind me had become white noise hours ago, punctuated only by the occasional click of the temperature regulator. I was exhausted, ready to call it a night. But I couldn't leave, not yet.

There was still work to be done, still samples to process. The micropipette tips rattled in their box as I reached for another one, the sound sharp in the empty lab. My stomach rumbled in response. 

I sighed, tugging the elastic from my hair and running my fingers through the dark strands before twisting them back into a loose knot. A few pieces escaped, falling around my face as I looked over to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. 

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, the last streaks of orange fading into deep purple. The campus was quiet, most of the other staff and students long gone for the day.

My stomach growled again, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch as I returned to work. I weighed my options—power through these last samples and face my empty fridge at home, or brave the vending machine downstairs for stale coffee and a questionable sandwich—

Then I heard the door open behind me. I didn't turn, couldn't turn, my hands still buried in the fragile work, the pipette cool in my gloved fingers. But then I heard her voice, and my heart stopped.

"Suguru?"

God, how I wanted to turn to her, to drink in the sight of her. But I couldn't, not yet.

"Hey," I replied, my gaze still fixed on the vials before me. "Didn't expect you here today. Sorry, the fun part's already over." I completed the transfer, then turned to face her, a easy smile on my lips. But the smile died as soon as I saw her face.

I didn't respond immediately, too startled by her appearance. Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss.

She looked small, fragile in a way I had never seen before. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks pale. She had been crying, that much was clear. She hugged herself tightly, as if she was trying to physically hold the pieces of herself together. 

Seeing her like that, so broken, tore at something deep inside me, something I hated, something fierce and aching.

"What happened?" 

The question was inevitable. But I already knew. There was only one thing, one person, that could make my pretty girl cry.

Her eyes were fixed on the floor, but I could see the tears welling up, threatening to spill over. "Can we work on something?" she finally asked, her voice small. "Please."

I hesitated, torn between the need to comfort her and the knowledge that it wasn't my place. "Do you want to talk about it?" I offered, even though I knew the answer before she even shook her head.

"No," she choked out. "I can't. I need—I need to focus on something else. Anything else. Or I think I'll fall apart."

I understood that feeling all too well. The need to lose yourself in work, to bury yourself in the familiar of the lab until the rest of the world faded away. But I hated that she felt it too, hated that he had driven her to this point. Hated him, with a fury that burned white-hot in my veins.

And the worst part was that I knew there was more, more that he was hiding from her. More lies, more secrets, more ways he was hurting her without her even knowing. And it made me want to scream, to rage, to tear him apart with my bare hands for daring to hurt her like this.

But I couldn't. All I could do was be here for her, in whatever way she needed me. 

"Please, Suguru." Her voice was pleading, desperate. "Can we just work?"

I hesitated for a moment longer, my gaze lingering on her face, taking in the vulnerability etched there. The urge to pull her into my arms, to hold her until the pain faded away, was almost overwhelming. But I knew I couldn't cross that line, not now, not like this.

Finally, I nodded and peeled off my gloves, setting them aside. I reached for her, gently undoing the tight knot of her crossed arms. Her hands were like ice in mine, trembling and fragile. I took one hand in both of mine, wishing I could take away her pain.

"What do you want to work on?" I asked softly, my thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

"The nanoparticles," she said, her voice a little steadier. "We still need to narrow down the potential materials and targeting ligands, right?"

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Anything you want."

Anything for you. 

The words echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of the truth I could never speak aloud. I loved her, had loved her for longer than I cared to admit, but she was with Satoru. And no matter how much it hurt to see her like this, to know that he was the one who had caused her pain, I couldn't let my own feelings get in the way.

So I pushed them down, buried them deep, and focused on the work. On being the friend she needed, the partner she could rely on. Even if it meant ignoring the part of me that screamed for something more. Even if it meant watching her break, again and again, and being powerless to stop it.

We worked in silence for a while, the familiar routine of the lab providing distraction. For her. For me. She focused intently on the task at hand, her brow furrowed as she carefully prepared the samples. Like everything she did, with unwavering precicion.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, my heart aching at the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes. 

Time seemed to slip away as we lost ourselves in the work, the outside world fading away. I caught myself stealing glances at her, watching how her hair fell forward when she leaned over the samples. Every little gesture a knife to my heart. 

These moments were the hardest — seeing her so close, yet having to maintain this careful distance. Watching her push herself to exhaustion, knowing I couldn't hold her, couldn't comfort her the way I desperately wanted to.

I averted my gaze and glanced at the clock, just now realizing how late it had gotten.

"Hey," I said softly, breaking the silence. "It's nearly midnight. We should probably call it a day."

She looked up, blinking as if coming out of a trance. "Oh, no I have to finsish this first." She looked over to me and my stern gaze must have silenced her objections.

I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and touched her arm gently, ignoring the way my skin burned at the contact. "Come on. I want to show you something."

She followed reluctantly as I led her to the far corner of the lab, where our old microscope sat — the one we rarely used anymore since getting the newer models. I pulled out a worn slide from the cabinet.

"Remember this?" I asked, setting up the microscope. "From your first week here?"

She leaned in to look, and I had to force myself to step back. "Oh god, my first attempt at cell staining. It's horrible."

"Actually," I said, adjusting the focus, "look at this part here." I pointed to a small cluster of cells. "See how you managed to isolate that specific population? Most students take months to get that kind of precision. You did it on your first try."

She was quiet for a moment, studying the slide. A look I adored so much. And for a moment, the pain and hurt seemed to fade away. 

"You've got instincts that can't be taught," I continued. "That's why you're going to crack this nanoparticle puzzle too."

"You really think so?"

"I know so." I pulled out another slide. "Here, look at your work from last month. See how far you've come?"

She studied it for a moment, then shook her head. "It's still not perfect, the staining could be cleaner, the resolution better. I should be doing better by now."

"You're being too hard on yourself." Always chasing perfection, just like him. "You can't expect to master everything in a few months. Even Satoru took years to—" I caught myself, watching her shoulders tense at his name. Wrong thing to say. "What I mean is, you're already exceeding everyone's expectations. Except maybe your own."

She fell quiet, turning back to the microscope. I watched as she adjusted the focus. Finally, she straightened up from the microscope, turning to face me, and there it was — that spark in her eyes I'd grown to love, the one that made my heart stutter every time.

"We should try adjusting the polymer composition," she said suddenly. "Maybe if we modified the surface charge—"

I smiled, relief flooding through me at seeing that spark return. "Whatever you want to try. I'm right here with you. But tomorrow, okay? After a bit of sleep."

"Thank you," she said softly, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms above her head. A small yawn escaped her. "Sorry for taking up so much of your time. You must have been here for hours."

"No, not at all," I lied, watching as she rolled her shoulders to work out the stiffness. In truth, I'd been at the lab since dawn, but she didn't need to know that.

I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly racing. "You know I'm always here for you. No matter what."

We remained silent for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid crowded in my throat — how much I cared, how seeing her hurt made me want to tear the world apart, how every smile she gave me was torture.

"Come on," I said finally, breaking the spell before I could do something stupid. "Let's get out of here. I think we both need some sleep."

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(note: s&c reader)

Cold autumn air burned in my lungs as I pushed myself harder, feet pounding against the leaf-strewn path. A thick blanket of mist hung low between the trees on my usual morning run, though nothing about this morning felt usual.

I hadn't slept. How could I?

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. The way she looked so small, so broken. The tears she tried to hide. The trembling in her hands as we worked. The memory of those words made me stumble, my running shoes skidding on wet leaves, made my chest tight with something painful.

I picked up my pace, as if I could somehow outrun the guilt of my own thoughts. Because every time I saw her like this, a treacherous part of me whispered, I would never make you cry. I would never give you reason to doubt yourself. I would cherish every brilliant, imperfect moment.

Damn it.

I'm a terrible friend. To both of them.

The park was almost empty at this hour — just a few other early risers and their dogs. A jogger passed, giving me a brief nod. It was my routine, something that usually helped clear my head, but not today. Not when I couldn't stop thinking about how she looked last night, working herself to escape whatever he'd done this time.

What kind of man watches the woman he loves hurt like this and does nothing? Someone so passionate, so full of life, slowly dimming because he can't get his shit together—

Stop it. Stop thinking about her like that.

I stopped abruptly, hands on my knees, breathing hard. A cloud of vapor formed with each exhale, disappearing into the cold morning air. My t-shirt was soaked with sweat despite the chill.

This isn't my business. I've told myself this a hundred times. Their relationship, their problems — none of it concerns me. I'm just her professor. Her research partner. Just his friend. But friends don't let friends destroy the people they claim to love.

And I can't keep pretending I don't see what's happening. Can't keep watching her slowly break apart while he—

Before I knew what I was doing, I was heading back to my car. To hell with my day off. To hell with staying out of it. I've watched this play out for too long, kept my mouth shut for too long. Sorry, Satoru. But we need to talk.

I stormed through the university hallways, my footsteps thundering off the walls, still in my damp training clothes that clung uncomfortably to my skin. The lab door was ahead, and through the window I could see him.

Satoru was sitting in his chair, staring blankly at the whiteboard where incoherent scribbles were scattered, just like yesterday.

In two strides, I crossed the room and grabbed the back of his chair, spinning it around to face me. He looked awful — pale, unshaven, his hair a mess. The sharp scent of coffee couldn't mask something else on his breath. His eyes were bloodshot. I didn't care.

"What the hell did you say to her?" I snapped.

Satoru didn't even seem surprised by my presence. "Wow, that's a pretty broad question, don't you think?"

"Cut the bullshit, Satoru. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He glanced up then, one eyebrow arched, that infuriatingly casual look I'd seen a thousand times before. "Damn, Suguru. Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?"

Something snapped inside me. Before I could think better of it, I was there, hands gripping the arms of his chair, caging him in. Close enough to see the muscle working in his jaw. "I'm gonna ask you this one time and one time only. What happened between you two?"

"Wow, you're really close." He glanced pointedly at the narrow space between us, but I caught the way his fingers tightened on the armrest. "We had a disagreement, that's all," he added, his tone dismissive.

"A disagreement?" The laugh that escaped me was harsh. I pushed away from his chair, turning so I wouldn't have to look at him. My hand scraped roughly across my face, trying my best not to take a hit on him. "She was in tears, Satoru. She could barely get the words out."

He didn't answer. Just straightened up, brushed imaginary dirt from his lab coat. Then he was on his feet, moving past me to the whiteboard as if I wasn't even there. As if we weren't having this conversation.

He picked up a marker, adding to the chaos of scribbles already there — equations that went nowhere, diagrams that made no sense.

"God, would you just—" I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "You can't just ignore this, Satoru."

His knuckles went white around the marker. For a second, I thought he might actually turn around and hit me.

"How long are you gonna keep doing this to her?" I pressed. "Until she breaks completely?"

"You think I'm not aware of that," he muttered, still facing the board.

"Then fucking stop. If you can't treat her right, just let her go."

That got him. He spun around, eyes hard. "Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

I blinked, taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Satoru laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Come on, Suguru. Don't act like you haven't been waiting for this. Waiting for your chance."

"That's not—" The words stuck in my throat. "This isn't about me."

"No?" He took a step closer. "Then what is it about? Why do you care so much?"

"Because she deserves better than this. And you know it."

"Better? You mean like you?" His lips curled into something cruel. "Too bad she's not yours to care about, huh? Even though you think you'd be so much better for her than me." He tilted his head, eyes cold. "Funny, isn't it? She doesn't want you, even knowing how bad I am for her. What does that say about you?"

The words hit like a physical blow, each word a serrated edge twisting in my gut. It took everything in me not to grab him by the throat. "You're being a dick."

"And you're being a lying piece of shit. When were you gonna tell me?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "About how you feel about her?"

"This isn't about me," I repeated through gritted teeth. "This is about what you're doing to her."

"You don't know anything about us."

I stepped closer, close enough to see the shadows under his eyes. "What happens when she finds out the truth, huh? When you're passed out in some hospital bed? That how you want her to learn about it?"

Something flickered in his eyes — pain, maybe guilt — but it was gone in an instant.

"Stay out of it," he said, his voice cold. "Just... stay out of it."

He turned back to the board. I watched him, this man I'd known my whole life, suddenly feeling like a stranger.

"What happened to you?" I asked quietly.

He didn't turn around. "Yeah," he said, his voice heavy. "Guess we'd all like to know, wouldn't we?"

I watched him scribble new, illogical equations on the whiteboard, this stranger wearing my best friend's face, and for a moment I saw echoes of who we used to be.

Late nights in the university library, surrounded by towers of medical textbooks. Satoru falling asleep on his notes, drooling on diagrams of the nervous system while I threw paper balls at his head to wake him up. The way we'd quiz each other until sunrise, high on caffeine and the shared dream of becoming surgeons.

Our residency years, which were nothing but brutal and endless. Sleeping in on-call rooms, stealing each other's coffee, covering for each other when we were dead on our feet. Learning to navigate the maze of hospital politics together. 

The rush of our first successful surgeries, the crushing weight of our first losses.

Even when things got bad, when the pressure started getting to him, when the pills became more than just a way to stay focused during exam season, he never shut me out completely. He'd show up at my door at 3 AM, shaking and sweating, and I'd let him in without a word. We'd sit in silence until the sun came up, until he could breathe again.

I was there through all of it. The interventions, the relapses, the promises to get clean. The nights when he'd call me, voice slurred, talking about how he didn't know how to go on. I'd talk him down, drive across town to pick him up from whatever hole he'd crawled into. 

We were brothers in everything but blood.

But now—

Now he stood there, shoulders rigid, adding meaningless equations to an already chaotic board. The gap between us felt wider than the few feet of lab floor. When did that happen? When did we stop being able to tell each other everything?

Was it when she came into our lives? When he fell in love with her? When I—

No. It was before that. The distance had been growing for a while, so gradually I hardly noticed. Like watching someone drift away on an outgoing tide, too slow to notice until they're already too far to reach.

The marker squeaked against the whiteboard. The sound grated on my nerves, like everything about him did these days. His secrets, his dismissive attitude, the way he kept everyone at arm's length while slowly self-destructing.

"Do you remember," I found myself saying, "that night in our second year of residency? When that kid crashed on my table?"

His hand stilled on the board.

"I was a mess afterward. Convinced I'd missed something, that it was my fault. You came to my place and we sat on the floor until morning, going over every detail of the surgery until I finally believed that I couldn't have saved him."

He didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders tense.

"What happened to us, Satoru?"

The marker dropped from his hand, clattering against the metal tray. The sound echoed in the quiet lab.

"I don't know" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm tired of it all."

We stood there, two people who had once finished each other's sentences, now unable to find the right words. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, filled with twenty years of shared history that suddenly felt meaningless.

I wanted to grab him, shake him, make him see what he was doing to himself. To her. To us. But I stayed where I was, the distance between us feeling more insuperable by the second. 

This strange, hollow feeling in my chest — was this what growing apart felt like? This gradual realization that the person standing before me, had become someone I didn't recognize?

But the details were still there—the slight crook in his nose from that basketball accident in high school with him, laughing it off even as blood dripped onto his jersey—the white line across his knuckles from that fight behind the gym, my own fists aching as I pulled him away—the small scar above his eyebrow from when we tried to climb that tree in sixth grade, both of us sworn to secrecy, telling our parents we fell off our bikes. 

Every mark told a story I could recite in my sleep, yet somehow, they all added up to someone I didn't know anymore. Like looking at a familiar photograph that had been subtly altered — all the pieces were there, but the picture was wrong.

My best friend, my brother, the person who knew me better than anyone — when did he become such a stranger? When did our comfortable silences turn into this suffocating void? 

The thought sat like lead in my stomach, bitter and cold, as I realized that sometimes knowing every scar on someone's skin doesn't mean you know what's beneath it anymore.

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(note: s&c and r&r reader)

Days blurred together in a haze of surgeries and lectures. 

I went through the motions, my hands steady as ever in the operating room, my voice clear during presentations. To anyone watching, I was the picture of professional composure. But inside? I don't know.

I thought I was doing a decent job of holding it together until one of my students approached me after a practically grueling morning lecture. The young man clutched a stack of papers, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Dr. Geto, about my thesis proposal—"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand, not even looking up from gathering my materials. "Email me to request thesis mentorship. I'll review your proposal and get back to you."

"Oh... you're, ehm, already my thesis advisor. We had an appointment scheduled for today."

I froze, finally looking at the student—really looking at him. Recognition dawned slowly, followed by a wave of shame. Takada Jun, one of my most promising students. We'd met twice a month since the semester began. Damn it.

"You're right," I said. "Sorry, can we reschedule?"

I was better than this. More professional than this. But lately, everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

The research lab was closed for the week—a "cooling off period," Yaga had called it. I knew what it really meant. We were all too volatile, too raw from recent events to work together effectively. So I went home early, something I never did.

My apartment felt emptier than usual, the silence pressing in from all sides. I tried reading, but the words swam before my eyes. I attempted to eat, but everything tasted like ash. Even my usual evening cigarette was bitter and harsh in my lungs.

My thoughts kept drifting to Satoru, wondering what he was doing, not if he was using, only what cocktail of pills he'd chosen this time. The math was easy enough—one to stay awake, two to fall asleep, three to numb the edges, repeat as needed. I'd seen it too many times before.

I crushed out my cigarette, watching the ember die. I reached for another only to find an empty pack. Figured. I should go buy more, knew I'd need them if I let myself think about her, about them. But I didn't want to leave the apartment, couldn't put on real clothes.

My only glimpse of light was the art exhibition on Saturday. The thought of it made something in my chest loosen, just slightly. I pulled out my phone, staring at our last exchange of messages before typing out a new one.

[6:45 PM] Me: Should I pick you up for the exhibition?

Her response came quickly.

[6:47 PM] Attorney: Let's meet there. I might be running late from a study group.

[6:47 PM] Me: Sounds good.

I hesitated, then added.

[6:48 PM] Me: Looking forward to it.

[6:49 PM] Attorney: Me too :)

A small smile tugged at my lips. For a brief, ridiculous moment, I wondered if I should bring flowers. The thought made me pause, my hand reaching automatically for my cigarettes before remembering the empty pack. What the hell was I doing?

This was wrong on so many levels.  She was my patient. Well, technically Satoru's patient. And young—god, she was so young. And I was... what? A mess of a man carrying a torch for someone I could never have, trying to fill that void with someone else? I was not sure.

My mind kept drifting back to that night at the bar. The way she felt pressed against me in that dimly lit bathroom, her skin warm under my touch. The soft sounds she made when I slipped my fingers inside her—God, I shouldn't be thinking about this.

This was getting pathetic. Still. Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

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(note: r&r reader)

I was late. Damn it, I was so late.

The emergency surgery had gone longer than expected—a complex arteriovenous malformation that refused to behave. By the time I closed, my hands were cramping and my neck was stiff from hours of hunching over the microscope. But the patient would live, and that's what mattered.

Still, as I rushed through the hospital parking lot, yanking off my scrub cap and shoving it in my pocket, I couldn't help but check my watch again. Two hours late. Shit. I'd texted her updates throughout, but still. Two hours.

The art exhibition was being held in some converted warehouse space downtown. Even from outside, I could see the warm light spilling onto the street through the large windows, hear the soft sound of voices and clinking glasses. I paused at the entrance, trying to catch my breath and compose myself.

That's when I spotted it—a small splash of red on my shirt sleeve, barely visible but unmistakably blood. Perfect. Because showing up late wasn't bad enough, I had to show up looking like I'd just walked off a crime scene.

I quickly shrugged my jacket back on, tugging the sleeves down to cover the stain. It would have to do.

She was standing alone near a large abstract painting, wine glass in hand, studying the canvas. Even in a room full of people, she seemed somehow apart from it all. The sight of her there all by herself felt like fingers wrapping around my heart.

"I am so, so sorry," I said as I approached, placing my hand on her lower back.

She turned, and the smile that lit up her face made my stomach flip. How could she look at me like that when I'd kept her waiting for two hours?

"Hey, you made it!" She didn't sound angry at all. If anything, she seemed genuinely happy to see me. It only made the guilt weigh heavier in my chest.

"I'm really sorry," I repeated, because apparently that's all I could say. "The surgery took longer than expected. There were complications and—"

"Did you save them?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the directness of her question. "Yes."

"Then stop apologizing." She took a sip of her wine, her eyes twinkling. "Besides, fashionably late is totally in right now."

"Two hours isn't fashionably late, it's just rude."

"It's your job," she said simply. "Saving lives tends to take priority over art exhibitions."

I watched her for a second longer, unsure how to react. "Have you been here alone this whole time?"

"Yeah, but it's fine," she said, waving off my concern. "I've actually had time to explore everything properly. Plus, the wine is decent."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I pictured her wandering these halls alone, checking her phone for my updates, making awkward small talk with strangers. For two hours.

"I really am—"

"If you apologize one more time, I swear I’ll spill this wine on your jacket. And you know me—I don’t need much of an excuse to be clumsy." Before I could respond, her eyes narrowed, focusing on something near my collar. "Is that?"

I followed her gaze to where my jacket had shifted, revealing the telltale red stain. Damn it. I quickly tried to adjust my jacket, but she caught my arm, stopping me.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm a mess. I should have gone home to change first, but I didn't want to be any later than I already was."

"Hey," she said, leaning in conspiratorially, "if anyone asks, we'll just tell them it's paint. I mean, we are at an art exhibition. Who's going to look too closely?"

Despite myself, I laughed. "You'd make a terrible witness in court, you know that?"

"Good thing I'm going to be a lawyer then, not a witness." She grinned. "Come on, I want to show you my favorite pieces. And maybe we can find you a painting with enough red in it to stand near. You know, for cover."

I let her lead me through the gallery, and I found myself placing my hand on the small of her back. It was an unconscious gesture, one I immediately second-guessed, but she leaned into the touch slightly. So I let my hand stay where it was.

"You're not still feeling guilty about being late, are you?" she asked suddenly, glancing up at me.

"Maybe a little."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, stop it. Although—" She pretended to think for a moment. "You could make it up to me by buying me another glass of wine."

"Done," I said immediately. "Although maybe I shouldn't be encouraging drinking."

"Oh, now you're being a doctor again?"

"Force of habit."

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine, wrapping around me like summer rain. Dangerous, how easily I could get used to that sound. She led me further through the gallery, linking her arm through mine, chattering away about everything and nothing. 

It was fascinating how much she knew—not just about the art itself, but about the whole scene. She'd point to a painting and launch into stories about the artist's infamous feuds with gallery owners, or how someone's entire series was inspired by a bad breakup with another artist three rooms over. 

She knew every bit of gossip, every drama. Which curator was sleeping with which artist, which pieces were painted during mental breakdowns, which collections were secretly commentary on messy divorces. She made the plain white walls of the gallery come alive with her stories.

"Oh, and that guy over there?" She nodded discretely towards a man in an expensive-looking suit. "He's actually—"

I caught myself staring at her again, watching the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, the subtle changes in her expression as she moved from one story to the next. The way she'd lower her voice when sharing particularly bits of details, leaning closer to me like we were sharing secrets.

It was strange. I never knew that art was so... fun. Her excitement was contagious, and I found myself being pulled into her world without resistance.

"You're not even looking at the painting anymore," she accused, catching me staring at her instead of the canvas she was discussing.

"Sorry," I said, trying to focus on the painting she'd been discussing. "You were saying something about the use of negative space?"

She launched back into her explanation, describing techniques and influences I barely understood. But there was something captivating about her, the way she could find something fascinating in every piece, even the ones she claimed to hate.

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.

"Why law?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What?"

"You're clearly passionate about art. You know all these techniques, all this history. Why aren't you studying art instead of law?"

Her smile faltered slightly. "We've had this conversation before, remember? Stability, good career, making my parents proud—"

"But that's what your parents want. What do you want?"

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with the stem of her wine glass. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost resigned. "It's not that simple."

"It could be."

She looked up at me then, something flashing in her eyes that might have been anger. "Says the successful neurosurgeon who followed his passion."

"That's different—"

"Is it?" She took a sip of wine and pulled her arm away from mine, the loss of contact unexpectedly cruel. "You chose medicine because you loved it, right? Because you couldn't imagine doing anything else?"

I thought about Satoru, about following his lead into neurosurgery, about all the complicated reasons behind my choices. "It's... not that simple either."

"Exactly." She gave me a knowing look. "Life rarely is."

We stood there in silence for a moment, both lost in thought. Around us, the gallery filled with the white noise of clinking glasses and polite laughter.

"I'm sorry," I began. "I shouldn't have said that."

She shook her head, loose strands of hair catching the light. "No, it's... you're not wrong to ask. It's just complicated." She paused, staring into her wine glass. My parents worked so hard to put me through school. Dad worked double shifts at the factory, Mom cleaned houses on weekends. They saved every penny they could."

"They were so proud when I got into law school," she continued, her voice softer now. "You should have seen their faces. Dad actually cried—I'd never seen him cry before. They threw this little party in our apartment, invited all the neighbors. Mom made this huge spread of food even though I know they couldn't really afford it."

She smiled at the memory, but there was something bittersweet in it. "They see law school as this—this ticket to a better life, you know? This chance for their daughter to have everything they couldn't give themselves. How could I tell them I'd rather spend my days covered in paint?"

"They sound like good parents."

"The best," she agreed. "That's why it's so hard. Every time I think about changing paths, I remember how much they've sacrificed. The hours they worked, the things they went without. Dad's still picking up extra shifts to help with my expenses, even though I tell him not to."

She turned to look at a nearby painting, but I could tell she wasn't really seeing it. "Sometimes I calculate how much they've invested in my education, down to the last yen. It feels like a responsibility, you know." A pause. "So I'm—acting. Playing dress-up in these fancy suits, pretending to care about corporate law and international trade agreements. But it's okay."

Her story settled like lead in my stomach. Here I was, someone who'd never had to watch his parents sacrifice anything, presuming to give advice about following dreams. And suddenly, I felt almost ashamed of my own privilege. 

I grew up never wanting for anything. My parents had well-paying jobs and valued education above all else. Private tutors, college prep courses, academic summer programs—they spared no expense in paving my path to success.

When I decided to go into medicine, my biggest concern had been whether I was doing it for myself or just following Satoru's lead. Not whether I could afford it. Not whether it would drain my family's savings.

I'd never had to work during university. Never had to count pennies for textbooks. Never had to weigh the cost of pursuing my dreams against my family's needs. The academic world had been my playground, every door already half-open. I feel so dump.

Sure, medical school had been demanding. The long hours of study, the grueling residency, the constant pressure to excel—but I'd never had to wonder if I could afford to chase my passion. Never had to choose between my dreams and my family's financial stability.

I lived in a nice apartment, drove a decent car, could afford my vices without a second thought. And here she was, brilliant and passionate, having to bury her dreams because she couldn't bear to waste her parents' years of hard work.

Looking at her now, in this gallery surrounded by art she understood so deeply, I could see the weight of those unrealized dreams in the way she held herself. In how her eyes lingered on each painting a bit too long, like she was trying to capture a piece of what could have been.

"I hope you get to paint someday," I said finally, the words feeling inadequate. "The way you want to. Not just alone in your apartment, but really paint. Show your work. Be the artist you clearly are inside."

She looked up at me, surprise flickering across her face. Then her gaze dropped to her wine glass, her fingers tightening around the stem. A strand of hair fell forward, and she pushed it back with unsure fingers.

"I mean it," I continued, resisting the urge to brush that stubborn strand of hair back myself. "Besides, who says you can't have both? Practice law until you're stable enough to pursue art. Or find a way to combine them—art law is a thing, isn't it?"

"You're awfully supportive, for someone who barely knows me," she said quietly, the words half-muffled by her wine glass.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. "No, I just... I'm not used to people understanding. Everyone else just talks about being practical, about growing up and facing reality. Like art is somehow childish."

The last words came out bitter, and without thinking, I reached out to touch her chin, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. Her skin was warm under my fingers, and I could feel her pulse flutter at the contact.

"Art isn't childish," I said firmly. "Neither is wanting to pursue something that you're passionate about. That's actually pretty brave."

Something shifted in her expression then, a softness I hadn't seen before. We stood there for a moment, her eyes locked with mine. That's when I finally realized I was still cupping her chin, my thumb absently brushing against her skin. I quickly dropped my hand.

"I really want to see them." The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Your paintings, I mean." 

It felt too intimate, too presumptuous. Like I was asking to see more than just her art, but something deeper, more personal. But she just smiled, a real smile this time, reaching up to tuck that persistent strand of hair behind her ear.

"Okay," she said. "If you promise not to judge too harshly."

"I already know they're great," I said softly, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "I don't know much about art, but I know they're great because you painted them." Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the caller ID.

I took an instinctive step back from her. "I'm sorry, I need to take this," I said, already bringing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

There was silence on the other end, just soft breathing that I knew too well. Then, "Suguru?"

Something in her voice made my chest tighten. She sounded—lost. Different from her usual self. Gone was that fierce confidence, that spark that made her so much like Satoru. Instead, she sounded small, fragile.

"Hey," I said softly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" A pause. "I don't even know why I'm calling."

Someone laughed loudly behind me. She must have heard it through the phone because she hesitated. "Sorry, are you out somewheret? I don't want to—"

"No, no," I said quickly, probably too quickly. "It's fine. Really. Talk to me. What's going on?"

I was painfully aware of the her standing nearby, pretending to study a painting while obviously trying not to listen. I caught her eye briefly, gesturing that I needed a moment. She nodded, with an understanding in her eyes that somehow made it worse.

I quickly made my way to the entrance where the coats hung, seeking somewhere quieter. She was quiet for so long I thought she might have hung up. Then, in a small voice that didn't sound like her at all, "Is he okay?"

I didn't need to ask who she meant.

"He's okay," I said, even though I wasn't really convincing either of us. "You know Satoru. He's managing."

A soft laugh, maybe a sob. "That could mean anything with him."

"No, really. He's okay," I lied. "I'm keeping an eye on him."

A pause then, "I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

"No," I said. "You're not being stupid. You're in love." The words hurt to say, but they were true. "That's never stupid."

Another shaky breath. "I shouldn't have called. You're out, and I'm here just—"

"Hey, do you need me?" I cut in. "I can bring you something. Coffee? Food? Those terrible convenience store onigiri you pretend not to like?"

That got a real laugh, albeit a watery one. "No, I'm... I'm actually at Maki's. She dragged me out. Said I needed to stop rotting in my apartment."

"Good. That's... that's good." I ran a hand through my hair, not quite believing her. I knew her too well by now, knew she was probably curled up alone in her apartment, just as I knew she knew I was lying about Satoru being okay. Strange, how we'd both gotten so comfortable with these little deceptions. "But the offer stands. Anytime."

"Thank you, Suguru." Her voice was softer now.

"Yeah," was all I could manage. I closed my eyes, pressing the phone harder against my ear as if I could somehow keep her there longer.  Each second of silence felt like another chance to say something, anything, to make this right. But what could I say? That I was sorry? That I missed her? That I thought about her every damn day?

"I should let you get back," she said. "To wherever you are. Sorry for—"

"Don't apologize. Not to me. Never to me."

I took a deep breath, briefly pulling the phone away from my ear because I couldn't trust my voice not to say what I desperately wanted to. Don't go. Stay on the line. Let me fix this. But I had no right to ask that of her. Not anymore. Maybe never did.

After we hung up, I stood there in the gallery's entrance, frozen. Around me, couples laughed and gathered their coats, heading out into the night. The door kept opening and closing, letting in bursts of cold air inside, reminding me I needed to move, needed to go back.

When I finally made my way back to her, she was studying the same stormy seascape from earlier. She didn't turn around immediately, giving me a moment to compose myself. Maybe it was some sort of kindness on her part.

She didn't ask about the call. Didn't question my sudden disappearance or the tension I knew was in every fiber of my being. Instead, she just glanced at me with a small smile that somehow made everything both better and worse, and said, "I think we've seen everything. Should we head out?"

The relief nearly knocked me sideways. "You sure? There's still the upper floor—"

"Please," she said. "I've been here for hours. I could probably give tours at this point."

I watched her gather her things, struck by how carefully she was moving around the weight of what had just happened. Like she understood something about me that I hadn't expected her to grasp. 

"You're awfully understanding, you know that?"

She looked up at me. "Something we have in common, it seems."

We walked to the exit in silence. I helped her into her coat, her fingers brushing mine as she adjusted her collar. Outside, the night air was sharp with the bite of early autumn. She pulled her coat tighter around herself.

"I can call you a taxi," I offered.

"Actually," she said, "I think I'll walk." She looked up at the sky, where a few stubborn stars managed to shine through Tokyo's light pollution. "It's not far, and it's a nice night."

"Not a chance," I said, already pulling out my phone. "It's late."

"I'm a big girl, you know. I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can," I replied, already dialing the taxi company. "But humor your doctor, will you?"

She rolled her eyes but didn't protest further. While we waited for the taxi, she stood close enough that I could smell her perfume, something light and floral, while I tried to ignore the guilt for leaving the exhibition early, guilt for being late, guilt for enjoying myself despite everything else.

"Thank you," I said suddenly. "For tonight."

"No problem, doc," she said with a warm smile. "Next time, maybe we can finish looking at the art."

"Next time," I echoed, like a promise I wasn't sure I should be making. The taxi pulled up, its yellow light cutting through the darkness. I opened the door for her. 

She turned before getting in, looking back over her shoulder. "Oh, and Suguru?" The use of my first name sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. "Don't overthink everything tonight, okay?"

I watched the taxi disappear into the flow of traffic, its red taillights blending with all the other lights of the city. Only then did I pull out my cigarettes, lighting one with slightly shaking hands. The night felt colder without her presence.

I took a long drag, watching the smoke disappear into the night air, then started walking in the opposite direction, no real destination in mind, just a vague hope that if I walked long enough, the conflicting feelings churning inside me might fade away. 

The city lights blurred around me, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the last trains of the night rumbling through their stations.

Next time, she'd said. 

God help me, but I was already looking forward to it.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — hello again! i hope you enjoyed this chapter from suguru's pov. i'm sorry for the lack of updates lately, university life and low motivation can be a real challenge. but i'd love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a comment or send in a message. i love to read them <3

& i hope his pov didn’t break your heart too much, especially with his and satoru’s spiraling friendship. also, this chapter ties back to ch 14 of symptoms and causes, for those who are following along.

pls consider subscribing to the story on ao3 or turning on notifications for my blog for furute updates (i've given up on taglists, to be honest).

and as always, thanks for reading, and i wish you all the best, whether you're reading this in the middle of the day or late at night :))

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[cameronspecial]

we all kmow drew loves to read and staying in, let’s make Dad!Drew staying in for the weekend and read to his 2 yo daughter and everything (hanging out, taking cute pics, doing her hair, play house) while reader going out with her friends and she felt a little guilty but he assured her that he loves spending time with their baby, so she should stop worrying.

Me And My Lady

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Suggestion of Sex At The End

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.7K

Masterlist

“You be Ken, Daddy, and I be Chelsea,” Elizabeth orders, handing her father the doll. Most kids are obsessed with the titular character of Barbibe; however, Drew’s daughter loves her Chelsea doll with a passion. He takes it without hesitation, “'Cause I'm just Ken, anywhere else I'd be a ten. Is it my destiny to live and die a life of blonde fragility?” The singing goes over his daughter’s head and she begins the dialogue of the game. He isn’t too sure what exactly is going on; only catching every other word. He does hear cheating and divorce though, so he makes a mental note to ask Y/N if she has been watching Real Housewives with their daughter again. 

Around half an hour later, the young girl complains about being hungry, so the two of them get to cook dinner. He watches as the small hand grips the spatula and waves it back and forward, spreading tomato sauce over the lasagna slices. She accidentally yanks the utensil upward, which causes a splash of red to land on her nose. Drew laughs and Elizabeth goes crossed eyes to try to see what he is laughing at. This makes him laugh even harder and she joins in on the cheery mood. He takes the phone out, letting her put some sauce on his nose and angling the camera at both of them. They make a funny face and he takes multiple pictures. After their small photo shoot, the two of them finish making the lasagna and eat up their reward for their effort. He checks the time to see that it is the little one’s bedtime soon. “It’s bath time,” he announces. Excitement crosses her face because she loves being in the water. He helps her out of the chair and chuckles when she rushes to the bathroom. “Come on, Daddy,” she beckons from the other room. He jogs after her to find her sorting through her toys already, trying to figure out which one she wants to play with. The one thing she hates about bathtime is the three toys limit. 

He steps over the toys and plugs the drain so the tub will fill when he turns the tap on. As the water begins to occupy the hollow porcelain, Drew turns to his daughter and opens the cabinet beside the bath. “Do you want bubbles and what bath bomb do you want?” he questions. She looks up from her toys and examines the choices, “Can I use one of Mommy’s?” The cabinet is filled with bubbles for both Y/N and Elizabeth, but the bath bombs are divided between the two of them. Elizabeth’s are colourful and shaped in different forms, such as cats, unicorns, or dogs, while Y/N’s are more focused on the scents so they are less colourful and just round. Knowing his wife wouldn’t mind sharing, he nods. “Bubbles, please, and that one,” she answers, pointing to the light pink bath bomb that smells of roses. Drew grabs both of the chosen items, “Those are fine choices, My Lady.” Elizabeth giggles at the funny accent he uses and accepts the round object he hands her, dropping it into the tub when he instructs her to. 

Once the bubbles are in and the water is at an appropriate height, he helps her undress and sets her into the tub. He hands her the duck, the mermaid, and the boat she chose to play with, accepting the mermaid she gave him. “And we can swim all night together,” she recounts. The duck slaps against the water under the grip of the daughter. The force produces a large splash that hits her father in the face. His face scrunches as the water makes contact and drips to his neck. “Hahaha,” she yells. Drew fakes an angry look, “Grrr. You think that’s funny, Little Lady?” He dips his hand in the water and flicks some at his daughter. Her giggles intensify and she tries to get away from the attack. The warmth soon leaves her, creating a shiver in her. Upon seeing this, the father grabs the ducky hood towel from the hook and takes her out of the tub. He wraps it around her and runs his hands up and down her arms to create some heat. The floor is soaked because of their playing, so he takes a second to dry it with the floor towel. 

With the floor clean, he carries her to her room and they get her changed into her pyjamas. He runs the towel over her hair to get out as much moisture as he can. He takes the brush she hands him and runs it through her hair to get rid of the knots created in the bath. “Do we want one braid or two?” he confirms. She hmms for a little, “Two Fwench braids, please.” He divides her hair into two and then separates one of the sections into three. He begins weaving the strands together like his wife taught him and sings with his daughter whilst she waits for him to finish. 

“There you go, My Lady. Why don’t you go choose a bedtime story?” he encourages, watching her run to her bookcase. She spends about a minute looking at her options before choosing a book he knows she is going to pick because it has been her choice for a few nights now. She patters back to him and he helps her onto her big girl bed. Her head rests against his shoulder. He pretends he doesn’t see her thumb in her mouth even though Y/N would kill him for not stopping it. He thumbs through the book to find where they stopped last night and clears his throat to start reading. “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” The English major side of him loves that his daughter likes to read Shakespeare. He is sure she doesn’t understand anything he reads, yet he knows she enjoys it because she is always so attentive and she’ll ask what certain words will mean. Drew looks past the inappropriate subject matter of Hamlet for the two-year-old because it feels like a bonding experience for him. It is one of the reasons why he isn’t angry at Y/N for watching Real Housewives with Elizabeth. 

Ten minutes later, he fills her head relax as it digs into his muscles. He closes the book and kisses her forehead. His hand raises the blanket to her chin, turning on the night light. “I love you, My Lady,” he whispers. 

———

Drew is reading through Othello because he thinks it is what he and Elizabeth should read after Hamlet. She’ll like the witches’ scene. He hears the front door open and close. He shuts the book, placing it on the side table as his wife walks through the bedroom door. “Hey, did she go down to sleep okay?” she mumbles. Her back is facing him whilst she takes off her jewellery and places them on her vanity. His head bobs and he gets behind her. He hands her a makeup wipe, resting his chin on her shoulder. He observes her nighttime routine through the mirror. His lips press against her skin, “Yep, everything went by smoothly. We are almost done with Act Three for Hamlet. I’m thinking about reading Othello with her next. How was the club?” She hesitates about answering. Y/N honestly had an amazing time tonight. It felt so great not having to worry about another human being for an evening. She loves Elizabeth, except being a mom can create a lot of pressure. Even though the night was a success, guilt overcomes her when she meets her husband’s eyes in the mirror. Drew hasn’t gone out at night with friends since he got back from work and she has been out three times. “It was fine,” she plays off, wiping her makeup off with the wipes he provided for her.

His brow arches at her tone, “Really, only fine? I saw Layton’s story. You looked like you were having a blast.” Her eyes fall to the vanity. “It must have been a trick of the light,” she shrugs. She goes for another wipe, except veiny hands stop her. He takes her hand in his and spins her so they face each other. Warm hands cup her cheek. “What’s wrong, My Queen? Why so glum?” he worries, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. 

Her breath tickles his skin as she exhales, “Do you hate that I make you stay at home with Elizabeth when I go out?” His head shakes like an earthquake and he brings her in for a hug. He can feel the guilt oozing out of her. “No, of course not. I love Elizabeth. Why would I hate it?”

“I’m not saying that you hate her. I just wonder if you resent me for going out with the girls, which means you have sole parent duties for a night. You haven’t had a night out since she was born. I mean you go out, but never by yourself so that I have sole parent duties.” 

“You have sole duties when I work.”

“That’s different though. Just because you love your job doesn’t mean it is a personal outing for pleasure.”

“True.” 

She looks back at him with a pout, his last words intensifying her emotions. “Please don’t feel bad about this. I may not go out anymore, but I never used to go out that much before anyways, right?” he reminds her. She thinks about it, realizing that it is true. Whenever he went out, it was always with her by his side. She meets his gaze, “You are saying that to make me feel better.” His head moves from side to side. “No. I love having nights with me and My Lady. I mean they are perfect when it is me, My Lady, and My Queen, but if I can give you a much-needed break, then I am more than happy to help you with that. If anything, Elizabeth is my excuse to stay in.” A grin starts to grow on his face when he sees the tips of her lips flip upwards. “Well, I’m glad I made you the perfect excuse,” she jokes. His laugh joins her lightened mood, “You made me the best excuse. Maybe we should start working on another one. You know, to solidify our excuse.” His eyebrows waggle and she pulls him into a kiss with a smirk. Their giggles mix in the air as he locks their bedroom door and she flops onto their bed. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[comicaurora]

Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

[melbatron5000]

Missing scenes?

Please, go insane with me. Again.

I'm still digging through the chiastic structure looking for Clues, and BOY HOWDY am I finding them.

Number one, I'm pretty certain I found TWO middle points.

There's one spot where the current show as it is meets up and extends out from. And another spot that isn't, but which I think is the True Middle. And I'll tell you what, I came at it a little bass-ackwards, and somehow accidentally wound up with the True Middle before I came across what I've been calling the Fool's Middle.

Okay. Great. Yay me. When I first found the Fool's Middle, I thought it must be the True Middle, and I'd been messing up this whole while. Except, I've been finding some very clear matches in some odd spots to the "right" of the middle, if we lay the story out in a left-to-right order. That shouldn't be. Chiastic structure is a mirror. Matches should be on opposite sides of the middle. But my assumed middle is working out MUCH better than the middle that actually falls in the center.

What the what.

Unless we're missing scenes.

Which brings me to find number two.

Several people have suggested that the scenes might be out of order, given the vehemence that Crowley shouts this at the demons before they attack the ball. I thought so too, and I figured the chiastic structure breakdown would show me what order they belong in.

Well, almost.

As I busily sorted through looking for mirror parallels, I started to notice that there's one chunk that has no real matches on the other side of the middle. Not the Fool's Middle, and not the True Middle. No real echoes, either.

The Resurrectionists minisode.

The present-day scenes that are interspersed with the Resurrectionists flashbacks have parallels. Just not any moments from the actual flashbacks themselves.

I figured I must just be blind, and decided to comb through that particular bit more thoroughly.

Here's the first thing I found:

Note 138: "We do a miracle so no one knows it's him, now no one knows it's him. Nice one, us." Hand-written note: "It's definitely Gabriel."

Note 134: Crowley brings Aziraphale to see the Gabriel statue in the 1700s. (1827, I know. They're notes, bear with me.) Hand-written note: "It's definitely Gabriel." "We do a miracle so no one knows it's him."

Okay, awesome, so there ARE mirror parallels in the Resurrectionists minisode. When Aziraphale says "it's definitely Gabriel" mirrors when no one knows it's Gabriel. Cool. No missing scenes. Yeah?

Oh, no. Not so freaking fast. Here's the next thing I found:

Note 160: Wee Morag is shot. (By the grave gun.) Hand-written note: "You are out of order!"

Note 161: "YOU ARE OUT OF ORDER!" Hand-written note: this is pretty much where the mirror of the Resurrectionists minisode should go.

Yeah. You'd think Wee Morag getting shot would have a solid mirror, right? But it doesn't. Unless you count Crowley yelling about demons -- or something -- being out of order. Hmmmm . . .

Okay, let's keep digging.

Note 171: Crowley vanishes down a hole. Handwritten note: Something's wrong -- like a hangover.

Note 170: Something's wrong, go to my friend. Hand-written note: Crowley vanishes down the hole to Hell.

Hot damn. Here we go.

Believe me when I felt a little bit like Aziraphale reading that his cocoa doth grow cold. A tad like Crowley was yelling right at me. At least, for a moment.

I can't find any other mirrors for Resurrectionists. I've looked. I'm not seeing anything.

Crowley can tell something isn't right. Something else is meant to be happening now, not a demon attack. And to him, it feels like a hangover -- that laudanum hangover, that ended in him getting sucked to Hell.

In the book, we learn that Crowley has a fine time trying to describe helicopters to Leonardo Da Vinci. In the Resurrectionists minisode, he tells Mr. Dalrymple he might want to wash his hands.

I don't think Crowley can see the future. In season 1, when Aziraphale asks him how the end of the world is going to go, he says rather irritably that he's never done it before, it's not like they let you go round again until you get it right. I don't think Crowley knows precisely what's wrong or what's meant to be happening when he feels that hangover mirror -- but his talent is time, and through that sense, he can tell whatever's happening isn't right.

Thus why he demands of the demons -- what are you doing here? What are any of you doing here? And then tells them, you are OUT OF ORDER!

The demon attack has plenty of parallels, it is supposed to happen -- but it's not meant to happen just yet. It's too soon. We need the Resurrectionist parallels first. Once we have those, the Fool's Middle falls away, and the True Middle takes its rightful place.

Now, my big question: WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MISSING SCENES?

I'm NOT a fan of "The Magic Trick You Didn't See" theory. I don't think the Metatron has Dicky Bird to do with re-writing the Book of Life, which, by the way, we have no evidence of one way or the other even functioning as described. We have three different characters tell us two different things about it, and we never see it in action. Also, the only things that are missing and that has Crowley out-of-sorts are the Resurrectionist parallels. We're missing a couple of scenes that should match those. Just a few things. But important things, I should think.

Who took them? What events now suddenly didn't happen? And why were they taken?

Listen to me, I'm so wrapped up in this I'm writing like this is just fact. These are my thoughts. The chiastic structure has yielded some awesome stuff, stuff I think is really true. Is this true? Do I have this right? I don't know, and I've certainly been wrong about stuff before. But I do think I'm on to something here.

Also, now that I think of it for a moment, those are maybe not the right questions. DID someone take the missing scenes? Or did time jump forward past them? If time did just skip ahead -- hello, book shop clock -- why did it do that? And why can Crowley tell it did it this time, but isn't concerned about the other times? We all know about the book shop clock jumping ahead during the kiss scene, but the damn thing jumps ahead almost every time it's in a shot. Always ahead, though, never back. There are a lot of references to time, so I think it's important somehow.

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter X: Invisible String

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

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

Synopsis: Back from the dead, you have to heal in order to be able to move on and be forever part of the people. You and Neteyam finally find each other, giving in to desires you've both had for years.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors DNI!!!), some angst, fluff, all the feels, so many feels, the end

Word Count: 14,7k words (i need to be stopped)

A/N: The last chapter of Ilicit Affairs is finally here!! It took me a lot longer than I thought to finish this, but that's because this chapter is longer than my first like 5 chapters combined. I don't know what happened hahahah. I'm so excited to share this with you, the conclusion and culmination of this whole story. I hope you find it a satisfying pay-off, and I'd love to hear allll of your thoughts. Honestly, replies and asks make my life and I cry a little bit every time someone interacts with my content. I hope you have enjoyed this journey, and make sure you read til the end for a (hopefully pleasant) surprise ;)

As always, thank you to everyone who asked to be tagged, I love you all sm!! Ok enjoy byeee x

“Isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you”

Neteyam stood in the room that he knew so well now, he had memorised its cracks in the white walls, and he was holding your hand, slowly tracing the now-fading yellow bruises along your arm. He looked at the tube that was going into the nook of your elbow and followed his eyes along it, until it reached a little clear pouch with a liquid that was dripping slowly all the way into your body. You were talking animatedly with Kiri, Norm and Max, looking over a bunch of plants displayed on a table in front you. It was incredible to see you, you looked like a completely different person than you were a few days ago. As soon as you woke up, you asked for the treatment you worked on and got working, and your symptoms improved massively. You were still sick, and the virus was still there, not to mention the damage it had already done couldn’t be reversed, it had to be treated on day at a time. Norm said your lungs were getting better and your heart was too, but your kidneys, he thought they were called, still not cleared your blood properly, so you were still stuck in bed with a big tube coming out of your neck where it removed your blood and another tube where it returned it back to your body. Neteyam did not understand how any of this worked, but whatever science it took, he was grateful for. He did not leave your sight in this time, refusing to be parted with you for even more than a few minutes at a time. Jake helped Max and Norm bring in an extra large bed, like the ones made for Avatars and add it to the room next to your own bed, and he slept there, reaching over to hold you hand at all times. 

There was so much between you that was still unsolved, still eating at his insides, but he did not want to overwhelm you or pain you in any way while in this state, so he was satisfied to just be near you and listen to your heavy breathing while you slept, and be comforted by the sound of the ECG machine letting him know you were still there, that your heart was still beating and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. 

“Ok, I think we need to start with how will we extract the proteins from these plants. I’ve not done protein extraction on plants, but I assume we can do some sort of chloroform or methanol precipitation? You and Grace used to work with plants a lot more than Max or I, so I think you would be the best at figuring it this out, no?” Neteyam looked at you with wide eyes, so perpetually impressed with your intelligence and drive, with how good you seemed to be at tackling any challenge. You were barely breathing properly, but here you were, trying to find a cure for this illness that almost took your life. The first full sentence you said after coming back to life was to Kiri, and he was a little jealous, but overall incredibly proud of you and your strength that felt like it could move mountains if you put all your might into it. Knowing you, he was sure this virus will be dead meat soon.

“Right, I can take care of the protein extraction, you can then run mass spectrometry on it and see what we’re working with. It’s going to be a lot of work, are you sure you don’t want us to take care of it? Until we figure out exactly which active ingredient in which one of these plants gets results, it’s nonstop. I don’t think you’re ready to be back to work yet.” 

“I can’t sit back and do nothing. We’ll see how I feel, worst case scenario I do all the analysis from the comfort of this bed, deal?” 

Norm was happy to hear that you weren’t being stubborn for once. Whatever happened to you when you died, you definitely seemed changed. As if death brought forth epiphanies that made you want to live, to heal. Neteyam was definitely not complaining. 

After a while, everyone cleared, and you and Neteyam were left by yourselves. You turned around to watch him, giving him a little grin. 

“You know you don’t have to stay here every minute of the day, right?”

“I disagree.” 

You laughed heartily, your breath getting caught in your throat when the action made your lungs hurt, and the laughter turned to wincing, much to Neteyam’s dismay. Eventually, the wincing turned to sighing, and you didn’t look at him as you spoke again.

“Shouldn’t you be with your mate?”

It was his turn to wince, and he realised you probably couldn’t avoid talking about your issues forever. 

“Do you really want to talk about this right now?”

“Neteyam… I won’t be the other woman. And I’m also not going to be the woman who steals a man from another, or who endorses whatever the hell this is. I need to make sure you are serious about this, about us. I might still not make the consciousness transfer. I need you to think about this, and if you do and you decide that it is me after all, then you need to talk to her. She deserves that, she deserves better than what she’s been getting. And I don’t want to be part of this until I know she is not being deceived or led on.”

“You are right. I will talk to her today, alright? But I’m not leaving you right now.” 

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

You could feel yourself getting stronger by the day. It was a struggle still, your lungs feeling like they were going to explode any time you took a deep breath in and your heart oscillating between going a million miles a minute to barely functioning in the span of a day, but you were getting there. The combination treatment was definitely doing its job, and your body was no longer on the brink of collapse. Some colour returned to your cheeks in time, and since you have been eating about 15 meals a day because of how worried everyone was, you were gaining weight back, which was further increasing your day-to-day quality of life. You got a lot of sleep in the last few days, probably more combined than in the past few months, and you felt rested, for the first time in a really long time. 

The first two days were the hardest, your body reeling from withdrawal on top of everything else you were experiencing. But you were feeling good today, and were trying to remain optimistic so as to not fall into old patterns. Having Neteyam next to you helped, your light in all the darkness, he refused to leave your sight, even in the face of more pressing matters.

The humans were closing in, you were told. The ships will be landing any day now, which only contributed to your slow recovery, as the anxiety was manifesting itself physically and hurting your progress. You felt stressed at the situation and more so at the thought that Neteyam wasn’t there, in the meetings and in practice, missing it all so he could stay with you. You hated it, worrying constantly and he wouldn’t hear it. 

“It’s only a couple of days, Atan. Stop worrying.” 

Today was the day they were going to remove the dialysis machine, which you were extremely excited about. You felt the need to walk, to stretch out your legs, to be back in the lab. You had a lot to do, a lot you had riding on this. You were trying not to think too hard on how you were doing everything in your power to further procrastinate healing, knowing that at some point you were going to have to deal with the trauma head on and open that damned drawer, that held all of your darkest memories, all of the things you spent your whole life pushing away. If you were going to be ready to heal, ready to move on, you had to do so with a clear conscience and a clean slate. You were adamant that you were going to find the cure for the virus and use it on yourself before you made a decision about the consciousness transfer. You had to be 100% sure of your choice, of your decision to leave this life behind forever, and you couldn’t do that if you viewed it as an escape from your current weak and disease-ridden body.

It took a while to be disconnected to the machine and get the tube out of your neck. From now on til you decide whether to go through with the transfer, you will have to do this for a few hours a day, which was a pain, but better than being bed ridden all day. 

You put your feet on the ground for the first time in days, and you forced yourself to stand slowly, and quickly realised it was a bad idea, and your knees immediately buckled under you. Neteyam caught you with both his hands under your arms, and effortlessly raised you until your feet were a few inches above ground. 

“Put me down! This is so embarrassing.” You groaned at your own impairment, and refused to give up, slowly starting to walk with shaky feeble steps. You felt both Norm and Neteyam hover over you, and although you were grateful for them, you wanted to scream at how upsetting it was making you having to be looked after like you were a baby taking her first steps. You guess, in some ways, you were. 

You eventually got to your room, which looked untouched, if a little dusty. You were happy to see it again, happy to take it all in. It was a bit surreal, the whole experience. You didn’t realise how much it was all going to matter, all the little things, until you were dead on a hospital bed, begging Eywa for another chance. Every wall, every creak on the floor, every book, it all hit you suddenly, and you had to sit down on the ground, your back against the bed frame, so as to not collapse under the weight of this whole endeavour. 

“Atan, are you alright?” Neteyam’s voice was laced with concern, and you tried to stop panting long enough to answer him.

“I’m fine, it’s just a lot.” 

He slowly sat down next to you, struggling to squeeze in the tight space between the bed and the desk. His knee was brushing up against the side of the thigh, and you felt heat spread from the touch through your entire body. He gently raised one hand to the side of your face, removing strands of hair that were falling on it and tucking them behind your ear. 

“Talk to me, Atan. I want to know, I want to help.”

You felt tears pool in your eyes, and you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look anywhere but the ground as the words got lodged in your throat. This was going to be much harder than you thought. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Neteyam. I’m sorry that I almost died, that I did die, and that you had to witness it. I’m sorry for not telling you, I am sorry for not fighting harder, I am sorry for so many things.” Hot tears were falling on your arm laying in your lap and you struggled to find the words to speak. “I am still so mad at you, so mad that you left, so mad that you lied, so mad that you never told me how you felt about me, so mad about so many things,  but I shouldn’t have kept this from you. We’ve been inseparable since birth, and no matter what happened, you deserved to know, you all deserved to know. You deserved to say goodbye. I am sorry I took that from you.” 

You were both crying now, and he picked you up and placed in his lap with little visible effort, it was probably easier for him than carrying Tuk. You wrapped your arms around his neck and slid your legs around him to wrap around his back and you stood there, crying in the crook of his neck while he held you tightly, trying not to hurt you.

“I am sorry for leaving. Sorry for not talking to you about how I felt, sorry about giving up on you. I should have stayed and helped you heal, I should have been there for you to rely on instead of being yet another thing you had to deal with in this life. I am sorry about lying about Tiongli, I am sorry for not telling them all no from the beginning. Even without the Avatar, there was only one woman in this whole world I would ever belong to, and I would have been happy spending my whole life in this lab, if it meant doing it with you. I was scared, and I am sorry.” 

He removed your head slowly from the crook of his neck, and grasped the side of you face with one of his hands, thumb trailing over your lips, tracing them from your cupid’s bow to your lower lips, and you shuddered at the touch, deep desire pooling within you. 

“I love you so much. I have loved you my whole life, from the moment I was born, and I will love you until the moment I die. I am so sorry it took me so long to grow, but I am ready now. Whatever it is, I will brave it with you, and for you. You will never have to do this alone again.” 

You were sobbing now, unmoored at his confession that you have waited for your entire life. You were so overwhelmed by the love and affection you felt for this man, for the appreciation of knowing he was willing to hear the deepest, darkest parts of your soul and share in that pain willingly.

“I love you too. I missed you so much.”  

After crying it out on the crook of his neck, letting your human hands caress the soft blue skin of his back and chest while he held you, fingers running up and down your spine in a comforting motion, you eventually got up from his lap slowly, and crawled on all your fours to your messy old desk. You took a key that was taped to the underside of your chair, and, with a deep sigh and tired eyes, unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk. You took out just one thing. A bracelet. You smiled at the sight, and tightened it around your arm multiple times so it fit on your human form. You looked at Neteyam coyly, giving him a soft smile, and you saw his hand reaching for his own bracelet, with a gummy smile and tears in his eyes. 

Maybe you could do this after all. 

You eventually started working in the lab again, being a lot more careful about striking a balance between work and everything else in your life. You were still struggling to sleep, especially now that Norm and Max flushed every pill you had down the toilet, but you were trying your best. The best was when Neteyam slept over, and you just fell asleep flush against his bare body, whose warmth melted away all your nightmares and replaced them with much better, much lewder ones. You weren’t getting anywhere with your research, as Kiri found a lot of plants in the forest, and to do mass spectrometry and proteomics on so many proteins, and analysing them all was an impossible task in the time you had left. So in an afternoon, as you were hanging out with her, Lo’ak, Spider and Neteyam in the hub, guitar strumming in your hands, you had a lightbulb moment.

“Kiri, if you had to save one plant, just one on this whole planet, which one would it be?” Kiri was special. Whenever the rest of the kids argued over her heritage, making crude jokes about Grace and Norm, trying to figure out who her dad is, you always had a different hypothesis, that you never said out loud. Kiri was Eywa’s child, as much as Grace’s. She was the key to everything. Eywa was flowing through her, guiding her, and you believed she had a lot more up her sleeve than any of you knew, than even she knew. 

“Hmmm, that is a hard question.” She looked deep in thought for a long time, and eventually it’s like a huge epiphany was released from her mind. “Pamtseowll!!”

“The Cat Ear plant? Are you sure?” 

“I think so! I don’t know why that one, but that’s the only thing that came to mind, and when I thought about it, I just knew it was the right one! Why do you ask?”

You raised from the ground, placed the guitar on a bench next to you, and ran (more like walked at slightly increased velocity than normal) to her, kissing her forehead in a loud smooch. 

“I’ll let you know!! Wait here!!” 

You talked to Norm, telling him your hunch and asking him to treat a vial of the infected blood with the liquid extracted from the plant in question, that you already had in stock thanks to Kiri. It would take a while, but you were buzzing in excitement, feeling extremely positively about your idea and your new odds. You made it back to the hub where they were all waiting for you, and sat back on the ground, mischievously ignoring their curious glares. 

“Are you going to tell us what this was all about?” Spider said, rolling your eyes at your antics. 

“Nope.” 

They eventually dropped it, and you sat together, talking about everything and nothing, trying to ignore the looming doom of the ships slowly making their way to Pandora’s atmosphere, and the deadly consequences that would follow them.

You picked up the guitar again, deep in thought. Before you could help yourself, you found yourself speaking.

“I saw my mum.”

Everybody stopped and stared at you in shock. None of them said anything, and you swore you could hear a hairpin drop for sure in this big hall, or your heart pounding in your ears. 

“When I died…” you started cautiously, not even knowing why you started talking in the first place, but knowing it was too late to back off now. “…I woke up in this new place I have never seen before. Eventually, I realised I was on Earth, in my mum’s childhood home. There were pictures of her on the wall, with her parents, she looked young, and happy… and alive.” 

“Her house overlooked the ocean, and I went and sat on the beach and she came. Like it was nothing, she just came to me, and sat me down, and watched me cry on her shoulder until I thought I was running out of tears.”

This bit was easy enough to speak about, now came the real problem. You swallowed the big lump in your throat and continued. “She told me she did the same things I did. That she had been sad, so very sad, ever since my father died, the kind of sad that never goes away, the kind of sad I am.” You couldn’t look at them, preferring the look of your guitar that you were holding on to dear life as you spoke, and saw small tears crashing into the strings, splattering everywhere. “She said she didn’t try… to stay alive, to heal. Just like I didn’t. She said she had a choice, and she chose to die, because the hurt was too much for her to bear. She left me, orphaned me, put me through so much pain I’m still dealing with a decade later.”

You heard small gasps and sharp breath intakes and the new information, but couldn’t stop to acknowledge it, needing it out of your soul as soon as possible. “I was so hurt, so mad at her. That she left, that she didn’t fight harder to be in my life, that she left me with so many scars because of her selfishness. And then it dawned on me… that was me. I did that to you. To all of you. And I am sorry. I am so sorry.” 

They all slowly sat up from where they sat and gathered around you in a circle, and hugged you. 

“We forgive you. We’re just happy you’re still here. We love you, we want you to know that you’ll always be able to talk to us. You’ll always have us. We’re a family. Sullys stick together.” 

You felt each of these words deep within you, the forgiveness something you craved like air, and you realised how much it must have meant to your mum. You were happy you could do that for her. You were happy something good came out of all the misery. 

Later that day, all the Sully kids left, and you went to your room, carrying your guitar in your hands, and found yourself again, sitting on the ground, reaching for the bottom drawer key and unlocking it with shaky hands and muffled cries. It was time. You reached inside it for a photo album, with old school printed photos on it, and opened it. Your heart was hurting so badly you needed to place your hand on your hand to try to settle it, settle the pain and agony you felt. The first photo was a photo of you and your mum in the medical ward, holding you tightly against her chest, looking really tired with the caption “you had just been born a couple hours ago, how crazy is that?”. The second one -  a photo of you, as a tiny baby, only a few days old by the scribbling on it. Countless photos of you, in various stages of growth, in various positions, all captioned by your mother, who loved you more than anything else in this world and whose love was loud and clear in every one of these images. The tears kept falling off the laminated pages and onto your legs, and your anguished cries took over the music playing in the background. An image of you and Neteyam, in a crib, his body much larger than yours even as tiny infants, but you were holding hands, sleeping peacefully next to each other. An image of your mum with Neytiri and Jake, smiling widely for the camera. A photo of your mum in her Avatar body with all the Sully kids, her holding Tuk in her arms when she was just born. An image of her in the lab, mid laugh with a pipette gun in her hand - no one would ever have been able to tell how much hurt she was hiding underneath, how close she was to death. Finally, an image of her and your dad, taken by your dad, of them looking into each other’s eyes lovingly. The caption, blurred and blotched from dried tear stains, read “the love of my life, the light in all the darkness”. You closed the album panting, and brought it close to your heart, just holding on to it while you cried. 

You were spent by the end, but wanted to push through, needing to get this done all in one go. You removed another thing from the drawer, a camera, the gift Jake have you for your birthday. You eventually sat on your desk chair, and plugged it into your laptop. You clicked on the only file on it, and gasped at your mum’s face appearing on the screen, smiling while adjusting the camera to centre her face. She started speaking, and you clung to every word, making sure her voice and words will forever be imprinted on your mind.

“My child,

I know it’s been a while since you have since my face.” she says with a small laugh. 

“I’m making this tape for your 18th birthday, as this should be around the time when your Avatar is ready for you to use. I gave Norm and the rest of them notes and doodles and research and I think they can do it, my love. I think they can build you the ramps new life, one amongst the Na’vi. I am so excited for you, you have no idea. 

Happy birthday, bunny. You will forever be the best and brightest thing I will have ever achieved. I am more sorry than you will ever know that I don’t get to see you grow up, see the beautiful, intelligent, caring and loving person you already are blossom into so much more, but I want you to know, more than anything, that I have no regrets. 

I have lived my life exactly the way I wanted to. I have explored new worlds, I have contributed something good to the world, I have lived and I have loved deeply and unconditionally. I just hope you do, too. I hope this world doesn’t break you, my love. I hope it doesn’t snuff out your light, because in that case, I will have failed you, and I am so sorry. 

I know you are sad, and I know you have probably been sad for a while, and I know this life is emotionally abusive, and it takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left. But it’s also worth living. Because you can learn to take from it, too. You can learn to heal, and love and live, and replace whatever it took in time with even better fitted pieces. But in order to do that, you have to live, my love. 

Even at 10, you have a tendency to keep sadness in, and don’t let it out. That’s something you got from me, and I’m sorry for that. I love that you got my eyes, and my addiction to music and my love for science and literature, but baby, I don’t want you to be like me in every way. You also have a tendency to isolate, and that, you also got from me. I’m hoping that will change in time, I’m hoping Neteyam, and Spider, and Lo’ak and Kiri, and eventually Tuk will be able to break through and allow their light to shine on the dark walls of this lab. But if not, I’m hoping this Avatar will. 

I want you to know that it’s alright to hurt, and it’s alright to be scared and wonder if the path you’ve taken is the correct one. We all wonder through this life scared and confused and a little alone. But it’s up to us to want to make a change and it’s worth it, baby. I know opening yourself up to hurt is scary and hard, but it will also allow to love, to love fully and deeply, to give yourself to others and have them give themselves to you. There’s beauty in this world and this life, but you need to be brave to experience it. 

Your dad and I love you very much. Enjoy this Avatar, and enjoy all that it can bring to your life. You are the brightest light of my life, and now it’s time for you to become another’s.”

You replayed the video until you were so spent, your eyes were closing painfully from the tiredness and hurt and tears. After that, you went to your bed, still clinging to the photo album, and fell asleep, to a song you hoped one day you’ll be strong enough to play yourself, but for now had to settle for the original. 

I should've asked you questions, I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me, should've kept every grocery store receipt Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me Watched as you signed your name Marjorie All your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me...

Norm came bursting through the door of your bedroom, waking you up in a panic. “What the fuck, Norm??”

“We did it.” He came to your bedroom and took you by the shoulders, shaking you. He screamed and jumped in the air.

“WE FUCKING DID IT, ACE!” 

You jumped from the bed onto your knees, so you were almost face to face.

“WHAT? ARE YOU FOR REAL?” 

“YES, OH MY GOD, YES!” 

You jumped on him and he caught you, and you just spun around in your tiny room, laughing and screaming at the beginning of your new life. 

Thank you, mum. For looking after me even after you’ve gone. Thank you.

You had to toil a bit with details, but by midday, you were ready to get the substance, now purified and diluted in appropriate medium for being inserted in a human body. You watched as Norm prepared, and held your breath as he injected it into your now healed veins. You didn’t know whether it would work, or how many doses you would need, this was all so new, it was kind of crazy you were willing to inject it in your body with so little information, but you trusted your mum, and you trusted Kiri, and you trusted Eywa. 

You felt good. So good, in fact, you knew exactly what you wanted to do. 

Neteyam was in the village, in a deep strategy meeting about how they were going to approach the upcoming threat looming over everybody. His mind was only half listening, the other half too busy with musings of you. What were you doing? Have you eaten? Did you take your treatment? He was worried about you after yesterday, and felt guilty he didn’t stick around for the night in case you needed him. He is pulled out of his train of thought when he hears a loud banshee scream, and everyone’s attention turns to the entrance of the tent, to which everyone rushes. When Neteyam makes his way outside, his mouth drops at the sight of you, beautiful and wild, free on top of your golden white ikran.

You were radiant, smiling widely at him while you removed your queue and your visors and brought your hand to your forehead and greeted everyone at the meeting. 

“Hey, kid.” The Sully patriarch came over and gave you a big hug, a conflicted look on his face. “Are you sure it’s ok for you to use your Avatar?” 

“We did it, Jake. We found the cure.”

His mother and father both gasped loudly at the news and hugged you tightly, and you held on to them with all your might, pouring all of your love and apologies into it. Neteyam was too stunned to say anything, pure bliss escaping his body in the form of silent tears, that he wiped immediately from his face - he was in a meeting with all the warriors, there couldn’t be tears. 

“I’m actually here to steal the future Olo’eyktan, if that’s ok with everyone. I will bring him back in one piece, I promise.”

“Fine, but don’t be too late. I don’t want to have to use the radio, am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Neteyam saw you click your tongue towards where you were standing, and felt a ping of arousal at your sight, at your confident demeanour. You used to be such a wild girl before life got too much for you to bear. He hoped he’d get to see that in you again, just like he was now. His hands made their way to his mouth and formed a circle around it, and he screamed loudly for his ikran, which appeared quickly and landed next to yours. He connected the queue and both of you took flight at the same time. 

You flew like that for a while, and he was mystified at the experience. He has spent so much of his time riding with other people, flying as much a chore as a delight, but nothing that will ever be able to top this. You were screaming, fiercely and ferociously, doing barrel rolls in midair on your beautiful banshee, laughing loudly and urging her to almost bump into him, to which he gasped in mock annoyance and returned the favour. He followed you to the Hallelujah mountains, all the way to a cave on one of the floating rocks. It was beautiful, and he thought it would probably be breathtaking at night. You both landed, panting from the adventure, and made your ways to each other after petting your ikrans affectionately. 

His hands immediately found your face, holding you tightly to look deep into your eyes. Your eyes softened looking at him, and he could see himself in them, looking intense and troubled. 

“Did you really do it?” 

You raised you own hand and brushed an unwieldy braid from his face, gently tugging it behind his ear. He saw your tail swish enthusiastically. 

“We really did it.” 

Neteyam’s mouth immediately found yours, desperate for your touch, the feeling of relief washing over him and it was so intense this is the only way it could be manifested. He needed you, craved your touch, craved the closeness, craved to make up for all the time you two lost. You moaned into the kiss and deepened it, opening your mouth, inviting his tongue to meet yours and dance in the way that made you both weak in the knees. You put your hand on his chest and pushed him and it caught him off guard, because he tipped backwards and hit the ground with a painful thud. You smirked and raised an eyebrow, and he moaned at the sight. You immediately got on top of him, straddling his lap and pulling him by his chest piece until your lips met his again. Your hands went into his hair and his did the same, and you let out a wail when he pulled on it, making your head tilt backwards, giving him access to your neck that he attacked mercilessly, leaving trails of his presence all over you. You felt him, hard against your core that was dripping in arousal, and you thoughtlessly starting grinding against him, feeling your mind flooded with sensations you never wanted to let go of. 

“Neteyam, we can’t.” It hurt you saying these words, it was taking every ounce of self discipline you had, which at the moment was almost none. 

“Yes, we can. In fact, I think it would be irresponsible of us not to.” 

You laughed, smacking his chest playfully at his words. You brought your hand to his face and caressed it softly, and he closed his eyes in bliss. 

“I want to do this properly. I will be one of you soon, for the rest of my life. I want to do this your way. I want to be mated to you the Na’vi way. Then we can do whatever you want, however you want. Deal?” You raised an eyebrow at him, smiling mischievously.

“Only if you stop raising your eyebrow at me, otherwise I make no promises.” 

You laughed again, and laid next to him with your head on his chest, hoping this moment could last forever. 

“Hey, I have to do something, and it won’t be pleasant. I was going to go alone, but I’ve made a promise to not go about everything alone. So if your offer still stands, would you like to come with me?” 

You felt Neteyam’s hand stop caressing your hair like it had been for a while. He starts getting up, pushing your head off his chest slowly in the process. He looked serious, concerned, but he had a calming smile on, and when he took your hands in his and held them tightly, you knew you were gonna be ok. 

“Let’s go.” 

You got on your ikrans and flew back to the forest, feeling comforted by the knowledge he was there, next to you. You didn’t have to do this alone. You landed in the clearing next to the exo suit that belonged to you dad. Your heart was picking up pace from the sight, but it was time. It was time to work through it. 

You slid off Neyn’s back and made your way to the suit, running your hands over it to remove some of the vines and eventually reaching for the dash cam. It was probably long dead, but you had to try, especially after what your mum said. You fiddled with the screen for a while, and eventually, it turned on, making you jump out of your skin. 

In the view of the camera stood a man, tall and bald, wearing military clothing and reloading the guns that came with the suit. You’ve seen him before, in a photo in one of the jackets you found rummaging for clothes to wear. His name was Lyle Weinfleet. 

“Captain, I think if we go through this clearing, we should be closing in on the tree of souls in about 3 clicks.” 

“You’re right. But I don’t think we should do it.”

Lyle looked stunned, and he stopped whatever he was doing to turn around and look and your dad. “Barlowe, what are you talking about?” 

“This is wrong, Lyle. You know it, I know it, everyone here fucking knows it. And if you don’t, you’re even a bigger psychopath than I thought you were. We have to go back.”

“I’m not fucking going anywhere, Captain. These freaks are going to kill all of us if they get their way. Someone has to stop them.”

Your dad picked up his gun and pointed it at him. “Are you disobeying direct orders, lieutenant?” 

“You’re not my squad leader, Captain. And I have orders from above.” 

A fight ensued which eventually resulted in the destruction of both the exo suits. Your dad got out of the suit, and the last time the camera picked up was Weinfleet running at him with a knife. 

You lowered the screen and sat in silence for a long time. Neteyam’s hands were rubbing up and down your arms, and you felt his chest radiating heat on your back. You were happy to have him here, as the new influx of information was overwhelming enough to make you dizzy. Your dad didn’t attack on that fateful night 19 years ago. Everything you believed your entire life was false. 

“My dad was not a horrible person.” Neteyam said nothing and just stood by your side, allowing you to process everything at your own pace. 

“I hated him my whole life. I felt so much guilt at his actions, the murders I thought he committed plagued my mind for years and years. I was too scared to come to the village because I thought he was responsible for the decimation of your people.” 

“You came from him, you share his blood. There was no way he could have been that bad. Not with you as his daughter.” 

You scoffed lightly at his comment, but were so happy he was here. You took him by the hand and walked him to the body that was now only a pile of bones. You looked further in the clearing, and realised another set of bones was settled in the ground a few meters from your dad’s. Good, you thought. 

“I’d like to bury him, if that’s alright with you?” 

You gathered all the bones and walked to a tree whose roots were hanging partially above the ground, creating a little cove. Rays of light were hitting it, and you knew then it would be the perfect place. You placed his remains there, and gathered flowers and ornate twigs that had fallen on the ground, and decorated the little space as well as you could. 

“Thank you, dad.” You were comforted at the thought that, although he died on this foreign planet alone, he was loved, and now, he will be mourned. 

You made it back to the village together, walking and holding hands, trying to get your mind off all the epiphanies you have had to undergo in the past few days. Healing was hard work, you snickered to yourself. You made it to the tent you knew Jake and the rest of the warriors would be. 

“There you are. Was starting to get worried.”

“Ah, there’s nothing to be worried about, pops.” You laughed at Jake’s shocked expression and the way his eyes softened immediately as a response to your new nickname. 

He had to wipe that expression off his face. He was Olo’eyktan. He was Toruk Makto, this was not inspiring leadership. 

“Right. The humans will be here any day now. I think we will have to move our base of operations in the Hallelujah mountains, somewhere they can’t find us, where the flux is too strong for their equipment. It’s going to be a big ask, and a big adjustment, but it is necessary. You know the first place they will look is at the hub. And it won’t take long for them to find the village either.” 

What he was saying made sense, but it filled you with a sense of grief. This forest, that hub, those labs, this village, is all you’ve ever known. To have to leave it for an undetermined amount of time, maybe forever, was hurting your heart. You knew Neteyam felt the same, you knew they all felt the same. Jake was a marine, strong and adaptable, he was an incredible person to have around in a crisis. But he didn’t quite understand what it means to belong to only one place, to only know one reality that was going to be uprooted and taken from you. That takes time, time you didn’t have. 

“I think we should do the ceremony tonight. You have completed the Iknimaya, you are to be one of us now. It’s time, if you want it.” 

You peered up at him, in shock, but the beating of your heart was so loud because it was excited, it was happy. It’s time. You knew it in your heart it was right, this time. You belonged here. Your mum worked so hard for you to get to do this, she foresaw this 18 years ago. Your dad gave his life for yours, even without knowing it. You owed them this, owed them your life and this new one you were about to get.

“And tomorrow, we can do the transfer, if you are ready.”

By nightfall, you were ready. Your hair was freshly braided, in a pattern different to what the Na’vi wear, but you wanted it to be a mix of Na’vi and human braiding. You had all new clothes, and Kiri was in your tent, painting your body in white lines, as was the tradition. She looked radiant, happy and beautiful, like she always was.

“How are you feeling?

“Nervous.” 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. You belong here, you always have, even when you were human. This is just formality at this point.”

“Kiri… I want to thank you. You saved my life. Your plants, your mind saved my life. I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t for you.”

“You saved your life. You asked me, you did the work, you found the cure. The Na’vi will be forever grateful to you, and Max and Norm, I hope you know that.”

“How about we say it was a team effort?” You laughed together and you kissed her forehead. You loved her so much, your sister for life.

Neteyam saw your body, adorning all new garbs, a golden frilly loincloth and green, violet and gold beaded top that hung from your neck to reveal a bare back that made Neteyam’s body beam with desire. Your left arm was decorated with a bracelet, the same bracelet he was wearing, the one that he gave to you when he was ten, that was now proudly shining on your person rather than hiding in a drawer, masking pain. You had bracelets around your ankles as well, that were softly clinking every time you took a step. Your hair was soft and braided in a pattern that was unlike the Na’vi ways, and it was fitting, Neteyam thought. You would never be only Na’vi - you were more, not quite human, not quite one of them, you were the most beautiful aspects of both and Neteyam felt his heart skip a beat at the sight, one which will never cease to take his breath away. You were his, forever. How did he get so lucky?

Almost as if you could hear him, you slowly turned around and he saw your eyes searching the crowd until they found him, and your face immediately broke out into a beaming smile, that slowly changed into a gaze filled with yearning and love….and lust. Neteyam gulped audibly at your expression, so intense it was making him crazed enough to almost consider taking you away right now, ceremony be damned, and coax screams out of you he would be sure anyone else would cower in shame at. But not you. You were his match, his twin flame, and he knew whatever he wanted to take from you, the screams, the pleasured pains, the moans and panted breaths, you would give willingly, and would take his in return, until you were both so spent you collapsed in aching bliss. 

He waited though, despite his progressively harder to ignore twitch, knowing he wouldn’t, couldn’t rob you of this moment, knowing the waiting and anticipation would be worth it in the end.

The ceremony was ethereal, magical, and he couldn’t help reminisce about his own, years and years ago. The people all stood around you, waiting for the Olo’eyktan to say the words that will make it official. Neteyam saw his father approach you, wearing all the garbs worthy of a chief of the Omatikaya, and placed both his arms on your shoulders, smiling proudly. You were a Sully now, for all intents and purposes, and his father looked at you the same way he looked at all his children. Neteyam’s heart swelled at the sight, taking in the familial interaction.

“Ngenga 'ite Omatikayaä luyu set. Na'viyä luyu hapxì. (You are now a daughter of the Omaticaya. You are part of The People.)”

Neteyam made his way by your side, and he watched as the rest of his family did the same. He placed both of his hands on your body, one over your heart, and the other on your back. His family did the same, and he noticed tears in everyone’s eyes, including yours and his own. This was a moment none of them thought they’d get to see, that you never expected to experience, and Neteyam said a silent prayer to Eywa, thanking her for bringing the love of his life back to him, and into the clan. 

After the celebration, you excused yourself from everyone, tired and dazed, as well as too impatient to wait for what you have wanted, needed for days, months, years. You found Neteyam casually talking to some friends, and you touched his back lightly, so lightly it was barely there. He shuddered minutely, and turned his body to face you. He took your breath away, always, but particularly today, in this light, under these circumstances, wearing his ornate clothes and that bracelet, the one that you would both wear for the rest of your lives. That one that meant forever. 

“Come.” He said, and he looked at you like you were a meal that he’s been starved from, that he was going to devour. You bit your lip in excitement and followed him.

You went for a swim in a tiny lake not too far from the village. You swam together like that for hours, kissing and touching each other under the water, just feeling him. The anticipation was building strongly, and as the last of the paint on your body dissipated, you left, with hurried steps, quickly making your way towards the Tree of Souls. 

Your entire body stalled at the sight. You have seen images of it, areal videos taken from drones and helicopters, you saw it all, and yet nothing could have prepared you for the beauty of this place, for its magnitude and significance. The air felt thick, charged with energy, and you could hear whispers all around you, soft, almost imperceptible, but they were there. Eywa was here, just like she was all around you, but here, you felt her stronger, almost palpably so. You made your way through the willow-like branches, seeing the purple hue illuminate your skin, and you just walked, taking it all in, touching it, experiencing it fully. You were so happy, it made you anxious. You’ve never felt happiness like this, and you were scared it wasn’t going to last, scared of knowing that the fall from such a high would break all of your bones, crush you forever. You felt Neteyam’s gaze on you, electrifying every inch of your body its gaze was touching. You could feel him, in your bones, you knew what he was feeling, what he was thinking. You shared a soul, you always have. “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

You looked at him and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight; he was the most gorgeous human you have ever seen. He was beautiful and angelic and looking at you like you were prey that he wanted to exert complete control over - and you didn’t mind. You wanted him so badly and you have waited for this for what feels like lifetimes. You knew looking at this man in front of you that you would allow him to ruin you, you would beg him to kill you softly, slowly drive out any ounce of sanity from your body orgasm by orgasm until there was nothing left of you but the echoes of moans you couldn’t help exhale. It was almost desperate, your need for him, and you heard your breath become laboured, panting with craving and ache. You saw him make his way towards you slowly, and stopped only when he was towering over you, and you had to bring your chin up to be able to look into his eyes. His hands immediately found your jaw, that he gripped tightly, making sure you weren’t going to look away from him, from that gaze that drove you mad and made you throb in pain, begging to be filled, craving sweet release. 

“You’re mine. I can’t believe you’re mine. I have waited for so long, I have dreamt about this for years. The one thing I have wanted more than life itself and you are here. You’re mine. Forever.” 

You were fully panting now, not even an ounce of shame on your features. You wanted him, you wanted him to know what he was doing to you. Wanted him to control you, to possess you, to take what was his, what has been his and will be his forever. 

“Say it. I need to hear you say it, Atan.” 

His grip on your jaw tightened, and you moaned, unable to stop yourself, not wanting to stop yourself. 

“I am yours, Neteyam. I have always been yours. I will always be yours. It’s you and me, forever.” 

It was his turn to moan, gaze turning animalistic now, in a way that you felt within you, deep within you, and you knew you were dripping wet now, knew he was going to love it, was going to revel in it, and you smirked at the thought. 

You saw him stop and reach back for his queue. You gasped silently at the sight, but smiled at the thought he wanted this, that after this, you would be his for life. You reached back for yours, and you both held them close to each other, just out of reach, looking deeply in each other’s eyes. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“You know I do. I trust you, Neteyam, do whatever you want to me. I’m yours to take, I’m yours.” 

“Forever?”

“Forever.” You joined the queues and nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for the overwhelming sensations and feelings, for the intense intimacy of feeling Neteyam’s deepest desires and emotions, for how deep his love and care for you actually ran, for how desperate he was to own you, to make you his. You felt his breathing and his heartbeat, and he felt yours and the desire you both felt exploded all around you. 

He aggressively smashed his lips into yours, both of you moaning at the contact, at the need that enveloped both your beings like the rushing water of the river you loved swimming in together. Your fingers immediately made their way into his hair, his beautiful hair that seemed to sometimes have a life of its own, and thinking of how hot you found it made you only more enthusiastic, gripping at it tightly and pulling on it. He smirked in the kiss, parting your lips enough to look at you with a mischievous grin that you loved more than you could put into words. You loved this man - you loved his kindness and compassion and sacrificial streak and patience, but you loved this side of him more, the side only you ever got to experience, that no one else knew about. How passionate and adventurous he was, how masculine and possessive of what was his he was, how wild and untamed a streak he hid under the well-behaved and poised demeanour. How well he matched you. Your twin flame. He placed both of his hands on you thighs, just underneath your ass, and lifted you effortlessly, and you instantly wrapped both your legs around him, never breaking the kiss, that was now just a mess of panted moans, lips and intertwined tongues. You felt your back hit a tree bark and you gasped, breaking the kiss and watching as the action left a trail of spit in between you. His mouth moved to your neck, that he sucked and licked until it was hurting, and he pushed you into the tree, trying to remove whatever space there still was in between you two. As he did so, you felt his chest and pelvis push aggressively into you, and you whined when you felt his dick brush up against you core, hard as a rock and hitting a spot that was making you lose your ability to see around you. He started moving his hips into yours, drawing circles into your pelvis and you matched him, desperate for release, desperate to want to give him your first of many orgasms of the night. You weren’t going to be satisfied until he made you cry in pain, in pleasure, until the line between them was blurred.

Neteyam saw your breathing quickened and he smirked in a way that only made further pleasure pool in your depths. “Coming already, my love? You wanted me that badly, huh?” 

“Dick.”

“You’ll get that later, too.” 

You wanted to laugh, but couldn’t do anything but mewl in agonising ecstasy as he hit a spot that immediately made you see stars and you rode out your first orgasm, crying into the crook of his neck. 

“Good girl.” He didn’t let you come down from you high, as he removed your body from the tree and placed you on the mossy, comfortable ground, and both his hands went on your knees, making sure you were keeping them apart, as soon as he could feel you wanting to close them to accommodate for your post-orgasm sensitivity. 

“No, Atan. You wanted this, remember? You have to keep your pretty legs spread for me.”

The entire world was spinning around you, a mess of purple, pink and white, as he traced his hands slowly, too slowly, painfully slowly up your thighs, until he reached your hips, where you loincloth was tightened, and you felt him make quick work of the knot, inhaling deeply as he took it off from you and saw you for the first time. 

“Fuck, Atan. I feel like I could come just from looking at you. Look at you, a fucking writhing mess and I haven’t done anything yet. Look at this,” he said as he place a hand in between your folds, removing the slick that was so abundant it was now dripping down your ass, “Look at how wet you are for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. The shit I want to do to you, Atan, will make Eywa regret ever making this tree part of the mating ritual.” 

You saw him slowly lowering his head towards you legs, kissing and biting roughly up your thigh until you were screaming in pain. “Shh, Atan.” He drew circles in your thighs as he continued his onslaught to comfort you to some extent, except it was only lighting your skin on fire, only strengthening your need for that second release. 

“Fuck, Neteyam, please.” 

“Begging so soon, my love? What do you need?” 

“You. Your tongue, your fingers, anything. Fuck, please!” 

“Well, since you said please.” 

He smirked again, the asshole, and you felt him licking your pussy from your entrance to your clit, and at the moan he released as he did so, you convulsed so violently you needed a while to settle, still trying desperately to close your thighs to make the sensation more bearable. 

“Stop that, or I’ll stop. Do you want me to stop, my love?” He looked at you through hooded eyes and giving you a wild look that made you clench around nothing, and your hands found his head and you pushed him back into you, annoyed that he stopped, already upset at the thought that he wasn’t going to be doing this every minute for the rest of your life. If you had your way, he would. That’s all you would do. He laughed, but obliged, and continued his attack on your lips, messily kissing and licking, pushing his tongue deep within you, like your pussy held the potion for eternal life and he wanted to live in you forever.

“Fuck, Atan, you taste so good. So good, how am I ever supposed to stop, huh?” You started grinding your hips around him, moaning loudly and you saw him dry humping the ground, trying to get some of his own release. The primal animalistic action was enough to push you over the edge again, coming all over his tongue, that was still lapping at your insides, without any intention to stop. 

You tried to push him away, the feeling so overwhelming it was bordering painful, your clit so red and sensitive now it was glaring and obvious, but he didn’t relent. 

“Fuck, you are intoxicating. Come on, baby, I’m not nearly done. We’re not nearly done.” He pushed two fingers in you, which was incredibly easy with the amount of slick and cum you were continuously releasing. Although so sensitive, you immediately clenched around him, taking him in, and felt the familiar ache slowly building in you again. He pushed his fingers deeper, until his knuckles made contact with your folds, and you felt his thumb slowly, gently rubbing your throbbing clit as his fingers were hitting your g spot mercilessly. The stimulation was too much, and you felt yourself seeking yet another orgasm, bucking your hips wildly against his fingers. 

“That’s right, Atan. Let me see you come all over my fingers.” That’s all you needed to hear, and almost on command, you felt yourself coating his long digits with your cum. He removed his fingers from inside you and you cried out at the loss, but he didn’t care, too busy staring at his fingers, covered in the clear viscous liquid enveloping them. He brought both fingers to his mouth and he took them both in and sucked on them, and immediately kissed you, messily and forcefully, and you moaned at the vulgarity of it, and the taste of your own orgasms on his tongue, which was exploring your mouth like he had your folds earlier. You loved it, loved all of it, drunk on the feeling, on the connection you felt to this man that knew you, so well, so deeply, knew your body instinctually, like he touched you and had you all his life, and you squirmed when you realised that now you had a whole life to do this, every day, you would never have to live without this feeling again. 

“Do you feel how good you taste, Atan? Fuck. I will never get enough of this.”

With one swift motion, he removed your top from around your neck and took its place, squeezing your throat until you couldn’t breathe anymore, slowly choking you. You threw your head back and arched your back, eyes fluttering shut, just taking in this feeling, of being completely owned, completely in someone else’s control. It was exhilarating. 

“Look at you. Look at how you give in to me, it makes me fucking crazy.” He squeezed harder. “You drive me fucking crazy. I have dreamt about fucking you for so long. So many nights, having to stroke my cock imagining it was your mouth instead, you have no idea how badly I need you. How entirely and completely yours I am. You own me. My soul and my mind. It’s only fair I own your body.”

The hand that wasn’t around your throat went to his loincloth, that he removed skilfully, letting it drop to the ground around him. Your eyes fluttered open to take him in, his glorious body and that magnificent cock, that was even bigger that you ever dreamt, and you struggled to gulp in the position you were currently in. Your pussy clenched fully at the sight, and you were drooling now, saliva pooling around your mouth that you licked off like a kitty looking at her favourite meal. His fist wrapped around the girth of his cock and he started pumping himself, and you were close to being done again just at the sight, never in your life seeing anything more sensual, more erotic. You needed him inside of you now. 

“Fuck, please, Neteyam. I need you in me.”

“I know, Atan. I need to be in you. I need to feel you milking me, like the good girl I know you are.”

With a couple more strokes, he lined himself at your entrance and slowly, deliberately, agonisingly pushing in, one inch at a time, stretching you deliciously, fully until he bottommed out, and you could feel him hitting your cervix, you could see his bulge in your lower abdomen. It drove you to the point of madness. 

Your hand went to his ass, trying to push him even further in, despite not thinking it was actually possible for him to go anywhere else, but it was still not enough, never enough. 

He removed your hand and gathered both of them and pushed them above your head, pining them to the ground with enough force that you couldn’t move them anymore. 

“No, Atan. You don’t get to dictate this. We go at my speed.” And with those words, he started rutting into you brutally, giving you no time to adjust to him or to the pace. It was rough and wild and out of control, everything you have ever desired in your darkest, best fantasies. It was so dirty, so wrong it made your insides squirm in pleasure, in uninhibited bliss. 

He maintained his pace for so long it was enough to steal two more orgasms from you. You were on the verge of tears, now, so overstimulated you didn’t know if you were feeling pleasure or pain anymore, but you didn’t care, you wanted more, always more of this, more of him. 

“Fuck, Atan, I can feel you squeezing me again. You think you can give me one more?” You nodded weekly, trying to match his ruthless pace.

“I want to come in this pretty pussy. You want me to fill you up, Atan?” You could only moan at the words, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts or sentences, anymore. You were way past that. Your breath quickened rapidly and you knew you were really close, and he could feel you too.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, come all over my cock. I want to feel you come undone.” Those words were enough to rip another explosive orgasm out of you, and your clenching milked his cock dry, feeling thick spurts of cum fill you up, painting your pink walls white. 

He collapsed on top of you with a thud, still buried deep in you, and you couldn’t help laugh exhilaratingly at his reaction, at what just happened, at the fact his was all real, not just an out-of-reach fantasy. 

Eventually, he rolled from on top of you and stretched out an arm for you to cuddle up to him, which you did, feeling grateful for every moment, grateful for the intimacy. 

You were both still panting, still recuperating and you lay in his arms in peaceful bliss, trying to catch your breath. 

“Thank you.” You said playfully, drawing circles on his chest. 

“What for?”

“For being an even better lay than I always imagined you to be in my dreams. Although I’ll find it hard ever being a productive member of this clan again going forward.” 

He threw his head back and laughed, and the sound filled the forest and your heart, so relieved to be able to hear it again, so immensely grateful to get to experience these feelings in your life, that didn’t end prematurely no matter how many bad decisions you have made.

“You’re very welcome, Atan.” 

You peered up at him bashfully, and you knew then you did at least one thing right in this life. 

You fell asleep in his arms, and woke up in the link room, wide smile on your face. Max was waiting for you, and he returned your smile when he saw how happy you were.

“You look happy.” 

“It’s just been a good day.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He looked at you playfully. “Do me and Norm have to give you the talk?”

“Shut up, Max. In a completely unrelated subject, though, can I have some birth control from the medical ward, please?” 

Your body was weak, and you needed a while to adjust to being back here after a whole day in your other body, soon to be your only body. You felt weightless, despite the pain, so happy and so in love. Your knees were weak from the memories, and you felt a bit empty at the lack of touch, craving him again, even though he’s taken so many orgasms from you, you knew you were going to be sore walking back to the village. 

You went looking for Norm, who was already waiting for you in the medical ward, ready to give you a new dose of the injection and take some blood to see how everything is looking. 

“It was a beautiful ceremony last night. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah, definitely did. It was incredible, I have never felt anything like it before.”

“Are you ready for tonight?”

“I think I am. I opened the drawer, little by little, Norm. I think it’s time. I am ready to take my place amongst the people, I am ready for my body to belong, I am ready to not have to worry that this virus will turn around and kill me at any point. My mum and dad both sacrificed so much for me to have a chance at a better life. You guys sacrificed so much. You’re like my guardian angels. I owe you so much, and I am so sorry about how I acted. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Will you still come by and hang out once in a while when you’re not busy riding your ikrans and being an overall badass?”

“Always, Norm. I am still me, I am still a scientist at heart, and I am still human. Maybe my body won’t be, but I will also have my mum and dad, you and Max, a whole history and heritage that I don’t want to rid myself of.” 

“Good. Then all’s forgiven, Ace. I am sorry too, for not telling you about Neteyam. It just didn’t feel like my secret to share.” 

“I understand.” You got up after he injected you with the treatment and hugged him tightly, grateful for this man who is your family just as much as your mum and the Sullys are. 

After resting, eating and taking a nap, you did your dialysis session for the day, and although loopy, you hopped in your Avatar body, still a couple of things you wanted to take care of before the transfer. 

To your surprise, you woke up in your tent, a small blanket covering you. You smiled, realising Neteyam must have carried you back in the morning. He even put your clothes back on. You blushed at the need that immediately overwhelmed your body, and tried to calm yourself as there were more pressing matters at hand. 

You made your way to the Sully tent, and heard Neytiri and Mo’at talking. Good, two of the people you were looking for. 

“Mai’te! How are you feeling?”

“I feel great, sa’nok (mother). Thank you for last night, it was beautiful.” Neytiri brought her hand to her mouth in slight shock at your new name for her. She was so happy, it all felt complete now, after all this time. 

You took her free hand in yours as well as one of Mo’at’s, and looked at them seriously, intently. 

“I want to ask for your permission for the transfer. I realise a lot of talk has happened, done when I was a human, when I was sick. But I am not sick anymore. I don’t want you to do it because you are worried I will die. I want to be sure, I want you to be sure, that you want me as a Na’vi forever. That you are comfortable with me becoming my Avatar for life. I will not do it, if you aren’t. This means so much for me, and I know I have been a coward, for so long, but I am ready now. I am standing here in front of you, and I am finally ready, to be one of the people, to be in this body, to be your daughter. I just hope I’m not too late.” 

They both looked at each other, and smiled, and looked back at you lovingly.

“Mai’te, we have waited for you all of our lives. You are the missing piece in this world, in our world. You brought forth a cure for an illness that has plagued the Na’vi for years and years. There is nothing we would love more than for you to be Na’vi. And there will be no better future Tsa’hik.” 

Your eyes widened at Mo’at’s words, at the consent not only to join the clan, this family, but to do so as Neteyam’s mate, as the future spiritual leader of the Omaticaya. 

“I won’t let you down.” You hugged both of them, tears in your eyes. 

You eventually made your way out of the tent and looked for the only other person you had to talk to before this was all done. Neytiri told you where he could be, so you looked there first. Sure enough, you found Lo’ak deep in thought up a tree, above everyone else, and you climbed easily and joined him. He was startled by you, but he composed himself quickly and gave you a look that you couldn’t quite place. You could tell he had conflicting feelings, happy on one hand to not have lost you in one way, sad that he did lose you in others. 

“Hey.” He was curt, and didn’t look at you, and a twinge of hurt settled in your chest. You had to make this right. 

“Hey, you. Scooch.” He moved slightly so you could fit with him on the branch, which was more than wide enough to accommodate both of you. 

“Lo’ak… please talk to me? I can’t stand the thought that you hate me. You’re my best friend. Please?” 

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” 

“I saw you leaving with Neteyam last night, after the ceremony.”

You cringed a little, the thought of having this particular conversation with him close to unbearable.

“Yes, it’s true.” 

Pain flashed across his face and you saw a tear, just one small tear, fall down his face. You reached to wipe it off, but he beat you to it, so you awkwardly let your hand drop. 

“I’m sorry, Lo’ak. I’m so so sorry. But I have loved your brother my whole life. My whole life, ever since I was born, he was there. And I love you too, I love you so so much, but we wouldn’t be right together. You are the best guy in the world, and I am not even close to being worthy of you. Neteyam gets me. He gets the darkest side of me, he knows my darkest, worst secrets, he has been with me through some of my most traumatic moments. It’s never been that it’s not you. It’s just that it can’t be anyone else. My whole life, it was always going to be just him.”

“You are my best friend, and I will always be here for you. You will never lose me. You will never get rid of me. I found a season of Friends on my mum’s directory that I’m pretty sure we’ve never seen. I can’t do that with anyone else.”

“I know you are scared, and I think that’s why you asked me. Not because you think I’m the woman you want to grow old with, but because you’re scared that no one else will see you the way I do. And you’re wrong, Lo’ak. Everyone will see in time that you are the best person in the world. You are incredible. And so many girls will be falling at your feet soon, you will be angry at yourself for ever pining over someone like me. I know you are scared, but I am not going anywhere. Can you please forgive me?” 

He turned and looked at you for a long time, intensely searching your face, maybe for a sign that you were lying, or exaggerating, but he couldn’t find any, as he eventually dropped his gaze and smirked playfully. 

“Do you really think girls will be falling at my feet?” 

“Yes, I really really do. You are a catch, mister.” 

He rolled his eyes dramatically and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well then, I have to forgive you.” You both laughed and your back pressed against the bark of the tree and you stretched your legs to sit in his lap. 

“Now, about that season of Friends…” 

You returned to your human form in the afternoon, and slowly started packing your life away, ready to relinquish this room, once your mothers, with deep sadness in your heart. You will all have to relocate from tomorrow, so you will probably not be back here except to help everyone else evacuate and move all the equipment. You’ll never be back here, you realised with a deep sigh. So many memories, so many bad ones, but so many good ones too, this place was your safe place, your little piece of heaven, despite all the hell you went through in it. As you packed all of your books and trinkets you collected in time, you found yourself tracing your fingers over every surface, trying to commit it to memory. The coffee stain on your desk that was made when Neteyam spilled your mug with his tail without meaning to. The scratches on one of the drawers from all the times you pulled on it with your finger, since the latch was a little broken and hard to open. The wear and tear from your ass print on the chair that you spent inordinate amounts of hours in, be it analysing data or watching shows, or reading with your feet carelessly stretched on the desk. You moved on to your bed, that you sat on, and you sighed at the thought of never being able to sleep on a bed again. You will miss the comfort of the mattress and the sheets, and the space to really spread out however much you wanted, looking like a little starfish every time Norm woke you up in the mornings and his subsequent laughter at your ridiculous poses. 

It took a while, but you were done about an hour before eclipse. Neteyam knocked on your door, with eyes slightly widened at the state of the now empty room. 

“I’ve never seen this place like this. It looks so barren without your touch.” 

You sighed and tugged at the insides of your mouth with your teeth. “Yeah, it does.”

“Any regrets?” You turned around to face him, giving him a small reassuring smile and taking his hand in yours, the size difference always a stark contrast compared to your Avatar body. 

“Never.” You eyed the bed playfully and raised an eyebrow, feigning timidity. “We still have some time… what could we possibly do to fill it, huh?” 

He looked at you, and you could tell he was turned on out of his mind, but also gave you a reserved look. “We can’t… not like this, I will hurt you.”

“I don’t think you realise you’re not making the point you think you are.”

He closed the door behind him with his tail and stalked towards you. “Fuck, you will be the death of me, Atan.” 

You made your way to the village a little after eclipse, and everyone was following you. All the humans, Norm and the other Avatars and Neteyam, who was carrying you on his back like you were his little backpack. You were flushed and a little disheveled from earlier, purple marks all over your body, but it didn’t matter. Your hours in this body were limited. In your back pocket of your shorts you had a box of birth control pills that Norm gave to you as you and Neteyam made it out of the room. You laughed at his reaction and yours, both of you awkward and embarrassed to have to address it whatsoever. You placed your head on Neteyam’s shoulder, peering up at the sky, like you used to do when you were little. The village was busy and roaring, everyone packing their lives up for the move tomorrow. People looked at you as you passed by, unfamiliar with your human form clinging to the future Olo’eyktan’s back. Jake and the rest of the family met you at the big bonfire. 

“Heads up, everyone. It’s time!” You smiled, and looked next to him on the ground, where your Avatar body lay motionless and you had to take a second to take this all thing in, the weight of what you were about to do hitting you full force. You started breathing in deep, shallow breaths, and you felt Neteyam’s hands running up and down your thigh in a calming motion. 

“You’ve got this. We’re all here for you.” You reached over and pecked his neck, in gratitude. 

Everybody in the village, all the Na’vi were making their ways through the forest towards Vitraya Ramunong - they would all partake in the ritual. Neteyam was nervous, out of his mind with worry and fear, although he didn’t want to impart that to you, so he carried you gently, trying to be strong, as he was sure your mind was also laced with concerns. What if you didn’t come back? Neteyam quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and cursed it for making him think about such things, making his heart constrict in his chest in pain at the mere thought. Of course you would make it. A part of him was also excited about the ritual. It would be the first time anyone under 19 would get to see it, to experience it, it was only the third time it would have ever been performed. It was a powerful ritual, hence why they needed everyone. 

The tree was as breathtaking as it always has been, and Neteyam had to inhale deeper to accommodate for the deep charge of the atmosphere, for the thickness of the air. He heard the ancestor’s voices, buzzing quietly all around him. As soon as you reached the natural platform on which the tree resided, Neteyam put you down next to his family and tried to not think of all the images flashing across his mind’s eye of all the unholy things you two did last night right in this spot. His grandma was giving out orders about where to place your Avatar. 

“Are you ready?” Said Mo’at, in her usual no-nonsense fashion.You gulped loudly, and Neteyam couldn’t help wince. Everybody was on the edge. 

“Yes, I think I am.” He saw you turn around to face him and the rest of the family, as well as Spider, Norm and Max. 

“This is it, I guess.” You grabbed his mother and youngest sister’s hands in yours, and squeezed, a small tear falling down your face. 

“I love you, guys. Thank you for everything all of you have done for me. I am so excited to join this clan and your family, forever.”

Neteyam watched as you lay on the ground, naked except for some leaves covering you. He was going to miss you, he realises. This body is the only one he’s known you as for 18 years. He’s spent so may days and nights with you, with this small person who had so much in her, so much beauty and intelligence, so much hurt and pain, so much personality, so much fierceness and grit and so much care and empathy, he didn’t know where it could all fit in such a tiny body. You’ve grown up together, a human and a Na’vi, learning so much from each other, adapting together to the world around you and to each other’s mind and soul. He was going to miss this body, the body he fell in love with, the toothy grin and wild eyes so unlike anything he’s ever seen, your beauty marks that he used to trace with his finger and eyes.. and mouth, as of a few hours ago. You were everything, and have always been regardless of your difference in species, and colour, and height. He mourned a little, he realised, for the you you’re leaving behind, but was also incredibly thrilled to have you as one of the people, as his mate, mother of his children, Tsa’hik, for the rest of his life. 

He hovered over you the whole ritual, unnerved at the way the tendrils were emerging from the ground and slowly enveloping you, until there was almost no bare skin left to see. His skin was covered in goosebumps at the experience, as the chorus of people asking Eywa to grant you life in a new body, undulating their bodies in unison, and his grandma’s words. It was unlike anything he’s every experienced. 

Tìng mikyun ayoheru rutxe, ma Nawma Sa'nok. (Hear us please, Great Mother)

Pori tireati, munge mì nga (Take this spirit into you)

Srung si poeru, ma Eywa (Eywa, help her)

Ulte tìng ayoer nì'eyng hu ngeyä ya (And breathe her back to us)

Srung si poeru, ma Eywa (Eywa, help her)

Tivìran po ayoekip (Let her walk among us)

Na Na'viyä hapxì! (As one of The People!)

Srung si poeru, ma Eywa (Eywa, help her)

Eventually, the ritual came to an end when Mo’at screamed for everybody to stop. Neteyam reached over to your face, and removed your mask, kissing your cheeks and your hands, and saying a quiet “I love you” before he moved on, anxiously waiting to see if you would open your eyes. He let out a panted breath as you did, smiling tiredly at the family who was now jumping on you, making you choke slightly. 

You laughed and his eyes found yours in the manic scene unfolding in front of him. You smiled lovingly and reached out a hand for him to grab. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi, Atan. It’s good to see you.”

You were sad as you were carrying your body, you tiny human body in your arms, and lowering it in the ground next to the Home Tree. You saw your family place a flower each in the little cove where you now lay, and you carefully redirected an Atokirina towards it, and watched as it landed on you, making its home in the little gap made by your foetal position. 

You will miss this body, and all the memories you made in it. You will miss looking in the mirror and seeing your mother’s eyes and hair, you will miss being able to play her guitar. This body, however tiny and weak, was your home for 18 years, and it has stood by you no matter how many times you treated it badly or betrayed it. It kept you alive in a world that could kill you in an instant, and you were sorry to have to leave it behind. 

“Thank you. Thank you, mum and dad, for giving me life and gifting me this body. Thank you for taking care of me, I know it wasn’t easy to keep up with this messy mind. Thank you.” 

You turned around and fixed your gaze on your mate, the love of your life, the one that made it all bearable, and when met with his dazzling warm smile and his touch that set your soul ablaze, you couldn’t help be excited at the adventures that lay ahead of you, that you will always brave together. 

-the end-

EPILOGUE

The man felt weak and dizzy, the entire room spinning and making him well nauseous. He didn’t know what was happening, what any of this was. He saw a bright light flashing across his eyes and he groaned in pain and annoyance at the way it was making his vision spotty. He grasped the hand of whoever it was that was doing this to him, and he was relieved when it stopped. It took him a long time to adjust to his surroundings, and was met with shock when realising he was in some sort of medical ward, surrounded by people in white coats. His gaze fixated on his hand, that was still wrapped around someone’s wrist, and couldn’t understand what he was seeing in front of him. Blue. A blue striped hand, that supposedly belonged to him. 

“Captain, Captain Barlowe, can you hear me? You’re ok, you’re just disorientated. It’s gonna take a while to settle your mind, so take you time.” 

He raised assertively from the bed he was laying on and made his way to the reflective windows all around him. He stood there, still, just taking it all in, finding it hard to understand, to process what was clearly displayed in front of the mirror. His body, in an Avatar. 

“Captain Barlowe, due to your outstanding military record and previous acquiescence with this project, you have been chosen as one of the select few to carry out a special op on Pandora. You will be briefed shortly, but right now we have to make sure everything is in order.” 

“I’ll be damned.” 

For everyone who’s made it this far, I am so excited to announce the sequel series, The Archer, that will tackle all of the events of the Way of Water x coming to you soon 💕💕

Tag list (thank you thank you thank you x): @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @inomoikawa @jackiehollanderr @jaysarchiv3 @meivap @dakotali @hlhl99 @eskamybeloved @erenjaegerwifee @winchestertitties @mommyneytiri @ultimatebluff @elizarikaallen @yeosxxx @ssc7514 @lolcaca @jackiehollanderr @bunnyrose01 @therealbloom @neteyams-queue @r1dd1kulus @whore4neteyam

@kikookii @iliyoo @velvetskies @rebeccao03 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

[scriptlgbt]

How should I show that a character's nonbinary when they themselves don't know? Should I even do it if they'll just be misgendered the whole story?

They're born in the early 70s (when the main story takes place they're 22). They have trans relatives but I don't think they know there are options beyond (a) staying their AGAB, (b) transitioning to the other binary gender, or (c) drag, which isn't really their thing.

I want to make it deeper than "they think gender roles are stupid" but I don't know where to start in portraying an nb egg.

[I'm assuming a lot about the culture of the particular 70s you're referring to. My POV is that I am "canadian" and much of my own personal knowledge of transness in this era comes from research in US archives. YMMV when it comes to places outside the heavily American sphere of cultural influence.]

So first of all, the 70s had a bit of a renaissance of androgyny. A common thing I'll see in advice columns of the era is someone asking what to do as a customer service worker when they "can't tell" what gender they think someone is, because of their hairstyle and the way they are dressed. I imagine there probably were a lot of people who took refuge in that ambiguity. A fro, a pageboy haircut, all these are something that people of any gender (not necessarily every texture but I digress) could wear.

Secondly, I figured out I was nonbinary before I knew it existed, before I had the words for it. (Though the term genderqueer was the in vogue one in the community at the time I figured my stuff out.) It's just that I sort of saw it as, "hmmm, well, I feel kind of between these things." And I think I'd seen it as sort of "half-trans" until I really understood transness better. (Note: this was for like a week tops.) I also went through a period of time a few years before this where I just sort of saw myself as a crossdresser (not drag - just someone who chooses to dress and cut their hair as they are comfortable and feel happy), but like, that as my gender identity, if that makes sense. I didn't have access to community of other people who felt like I did in order to compare to. But at the time, this also meant that when I talked about my feelings with others, they wouldn't have the same hangups about what it would mean for them if they said they felt the same. There were a lot of people I talked to in 2011ish who basically said they experienced gender as I did, only, I don't think most of them would understand for another 4 years at least.

One day I'd like to post more info about nonbinary history (especially in the 70s), but I'm just dumping info at this point. Something I will suggest for more on the topic is reading Lou Sullivan's diary, and reading autobiographies from trans people who were alive then. Even when they weren't out, they still existed, and lived in a world where they were carving out spaces for themselves.

To my understanding also, a lot of trans culture at the time sort of distinguished "transvestite" (trans people generally? but who haven't accessed medical transition) and "transsexual" (trans people who have or are intending to transition medically). Trans people of every variety might change gender expression based on their outness or the safety they had, and this didn't make them less seen as trans per se. A lot of people who ID'd either way (though more for "transvestite") would have a variety of approaches to things like name and pronouns. If this were the dominant terminology of the time that I were figuring things out, I'd probably have called myself a transvestite, though I would have likely been questioning the transsexual label for a while and ultimately not been able to access medical transition. (Though it depends on when in the 70s iirc - there was a time earlier on where it was easier to access I believe, but I'd need to fact check.)

In terms of general nonbinary egg mode stuff, or at least egg for an era where being nonbinary is not widely known to be a thing, here's some 'signs' (some are just straight up "that's canon if you put that in") I've brainstormed.

admiring specific fashion trends and looks that are gender nonconforming or androgynous (especially celebrities - maybe glam rock musicians, Joan Jett) (Joan Jett was huge for egg me personally...)

finding a lot of different ways to express how they feel in words (the "man/woman in a woman/man's body" phrasing is something that has historically bugged me, but people have used it throughout history) (more examples, dependant on the person, "I feel just as un/comfortable in my body and the way people see me as I would if I'd been born differently." "It's not a wo/man's haircut, it's mine." "I feel like a guy among my guy friends and a girl among my girl friends." "I feel uncomfortable when I go out with my partner and we are assumed to be straight/gay, though I don't know why." "I really enjoyed breeches roles when I did theatre in high school." "It felt good when I was mistaken for a woman.")

referring to themselves in their head with neutral terms

having dreams where they are recognized as themselves

feeling at home around trans people and queer people in general

watching or listening to certain songs/movies/etc that feel Gender for them over and over again

some kind of fixation on facial hair/other body part or lack thereof

it feeling different when different people use gendered terminology for the character (ex: a conservative Girl Guide leader calling everyone "ladies" vs a gay man saying "hey girl"). this is usually to do with what it's assumed the speaker's assigned meaning to the word is.

Re: misgendering through the whole story. A really convenient way to curb this would be to just have the character feel like the way they are (mis)gendered is also a part of their identity, it just isn't the whole picture. Another thing I sort of thought of in my early years was like, if people think I'm a woman, at least they understand there is something off about it. Whether they think I'm a butch lesbian or intersex (which was very regularly assumed throughout my life, at least until the general public started to catch wind of genderqueer identities). It matters to me that they at least understand my approach to gender is queer.

Another approach would be to have the story written from a distant past tense where the reader knows the identity of the character, because everything is told in distant hindsight. This is my favourite approach personally.

-mod nat

[misc-obeyme]

Couples Discount!

Okay, here it is, the daily chat scene I was supposed to write a couple days ago before I got distracted. I gotta say, I really enjoy writing for Diavolo. He's so funny, I love him.

Anyway, this got a touch suggestive at the end, so uh... there's that. I feel like it would be easy to write what happens next, but this is definitely a fade to black sort of situation lol. Though you can now read the secret smut scene here if you like.

GN!MC x Diavolo

Warnings: kissing, suggestive but it's all implied

DIAVOLO I have news, MC! Hell's Kitchen is offering a couples discount right now. Would you like to join me for dinner?

MC I'd love to!

DIAVOLO

Thank you! I've decided to invite you whenever Hell's Kitchen has a promotion like this. If people are going to gossip about my love life, then I'd prefer that they think I'm with you. Please wait for a moment. I'm on my way to pick you up.

You sat across the table from Diavolo at Hell's Kitchen, enjoying the shadow goose meat and egg lasagna you ordered. It was a nice evening in the Devildom - breezy but not too cold. This had made the walk over here pleasant as you and Diavolo chatted about this and that. You had dressed casually for this outing, so you were comfortable and relaxed.

Diavolo had also changed out of his usual RAD uniform. When he had shown up on the steps of the House of Lamentation, you couldn't help but be surprised. He was wearing a pair of black jeans, a black button up shirt, and a tasteful selection of gold jewelry. He still looked like a prince, but he was more dressed down than you'd ever seen him. He looked cheerful as he escorted you down the street.

When you had arrived at Hell's Kitchen, the two of you decided to hold hands in order to really make it seem like you were a couple. The whole point was to get the couple's discount, after all. And though you didn't think they were going to make you prove it while you were with Lord Diavolo, you figured it would be more fun this way.

And that's all you were doing - having fun, fooling everybody, and acting a part. And yet you couldn't ignore the way your heart raced when he took your hand in his. The way your chest throbbed when he told the hostess that he and his date were here for the couple's discount.

As the hostess brought you to your table, Diavolo looked over at you and winked mischievously. You smiled brightly, hoping that he couldn't see the truth about how you were reacting.

By this point, after your food had arrived, you were feeling much more relaxed. It was easier when you weren't quite so close to him and you were preoccupied with what was going on around you.

It was just as Diavolo had said. People were paying attention. You could hear the gossip, see the furtive glances. Diavolo either didn't notice or didn't react. It was probably the latter. You thought he must have a lot more experience ignoring the stares of others than you did.

Earlier you had been a little anxious about the way you seemed to be reacting to pretending to be in a relationship with Diavolo. Now you were anxious about all the people who were gossiping about you being in a relationship with Diavolo.

Diavolo reached across the table and took your hand. You looked up from your plate in surprise.

He leaned forward a little and said softly, "Don't let their stares bother you, MC."

You could feel the heat of a blush across the tips of your ears. "How can you sit here and let them talk about you? You act like you can't hear it."

Diavolo laughed, letting go of your hand and leaning back in his chair. "I can't! Not anymore, anyway. It's only background noise to me now."

You shook your head a little. "It's seems so loud to me."

Diavolo's smile vanished. He wasn't frowning, but he certainly looked more serious. "I'm sorry, MC," he said. "I should have realized it would be difficult for you."

You gripped your fork harder and sat up straight in your chair. "No," you said firmly. "Don't be sorry. People should mind their own business. All that matters is that we're having a good time."

Diavolo's smile returned. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yes," you said. You waved your fork just a little. "This goose meat is delicious!"

Diavolo laughed again. "Ah, MC, being with you is always a delight!"

You laughed, too, seeing him looking so happy.

After you finished eating dinner, Diavolo escorted you back outside the restaurant and turned toward the House of Lamentation. But you weren't quite ready to go home yet. Impulsively, you grabbed his hand and pulled him in the other direction.

"MC!" he said, almost stumbling as you pulled him along. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever we want!" you said, laughing as you tugged on his hand. "I just don't want to go home yet."

Diavolo kept hold of your hand as you walked down the street, not at all sure where you were going. You just didn't want to leave him yet. The way he was smiling, the sparkle in his eyes, the gentle squeeze he gave your hand, it all gave you a confidence you might not have had in his presence otherwise.

The two of you ducked into various stores as you came upon them, stopping here and there to look at anything that caught your eye. Diavolo offered to buy you something in nearly every shop, but you always waved him off. You didn't want trinkets. You just wanted him.

You had found a dessert stand selling odd looking ice cream in a quaint plaza with a fountain and several benches. The two of you were sitting on one of the benches, having just finished the enormous desserts Diavolo had bought. There were some other people in this area, most of them walking by, but a few sitting on benches similar to yours.

You knew the evening had to end, even if you didn't really want it to. You sat there, looking out into the Devildom night, taking in the soft lights of the town. And then you realized that the people who were nearby seemed overly interested in you. Of course. They were looking at Diavolo. The whispers you heard in the restaurant earlier started up here, as well.

You sighed and looked over at Diavolo. "I guess we should go home now."

Diavolo tilted his head to the side. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," you said. "But you know, people are talking about us again."

Diavolo laughed. "I hadn't even noticed! But of course they are. And it's just like I told you before. They're going to talk anyway and I do prefer they think I'm with you."

"Oh?" you asked with a mischievous grin. "But really we haven't done much of anything to make them think we're together romantically, don't you think?"

Diavolo put an arm across the bench behind you and leaned in. You were surprised by the almost wicked look in his eyes. "What do you suggest we do about that?"

He was so close to you, but you still moved in just a little closer, somehow still not quite touching him. "You'll have to deal with any gossip more than I will. So you tell me."

"I'd rather show you," Diavolo said.

He put his other hand on your cheek as his lips met yours. They were soft and sweet. You knew people were watching, but you didn't care. Your mind was full of nothing but him. The touch of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the feel of his body so close to yours.

You reached forward and gripped his shirt, unable to keep your hands to yourself. You felt consumed by the heat that ran through you and you gently bit his bottom lip.

Diavolo pulled away and you felt like a fire burning against the cold that threatened to close in on you. Just as that flame was about to go out, succumbing to the loss of Diavolo's heat, he stood up from the bench and pulled you up with him.

Gripping your hands, a bright blush spread across his cheeks, Diavolo said, "Why don't you stay at the Demon Lord's Castle tonight?"

You glanced around at the plaza. You could hear the furious whispers of the people still watching you with the prince of the Devildom. It was as though by kissing you, Diavolo had really set off a storm of discussion. But then you remembered how he had said he wanted them to think he was with you. Everyone in this plaza certainly thought so now. Why not seal the deal?

You stepped closer to him and said softly in his ear, "Take me home with you, Diavolo."

The next day, you heard all about your own "night on the town" with Lord Diavolo from the seven brothers. They had read all about it in an unfortunate tabloid that one of them had gotten a hold of. You refused to answer any questions about it, telling them if they really wanted to know, they could ask Lord Diavolo themselves.

others in this series:

Mammon | Barbatos | Solomon | Lucifer | Simeon

Leviathan | Asmodeus | Beelzebub | Belphegor | Satan

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[doberbutts]

So a friend of mine HILARIOUSLY bought raw dog food from this company based in Lancaster, Pennsylvania aka my hometown, and this is just part of the absolutely unhinged contract they sent her "in order to buy the food". It's like 18 pages and just gets worse and worse as you go but I wanted to pull specifically this part out because of something I mentioned a little while ago.

This contract is *incredibly* Mennonite but I mentioned before that Mennonites love to take pieces of Jewish culture and religion and just. Use it whenever they want. And this sort of exemplifies what I'm talking about. They went out of their way to learn Hebrew and to learn what it means and study the Torah and Jewish law and then immediately conflate it with their own personal [read: CHRISTIAN] understanding of the concept.

Need I remind you this is a company that sells raw meat to feed to dogs.

Anyway I got to this part of the contract and was like "oh, they're Mennonite, they're using Hebrew to talk about God in the Christian sense" because that was such a normal fucking sight in Lancaster that it took me moving out of that area to realize that no, most other Christian sects do not do this. It's so fucking bizarre and I figured y'all would appreciate the peek into what my life was like for 20 years because you couldn't escape it even after I'd left the church

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.191 So long

I tossed and turned last night, and I don't think Sophia got much sleep either. We were so anxious and eager to move into our new home; it's all we could talk about for the rest of the night. Even Desiree had trouble falling asleep. At an appropriate hour, we hopped out of bed, got ready, and had breakfast. Just as we prepared to head out, I received a frantic call from our tenants. They said a toilet was spewing out sewage! I had to get over there right away, but I was very skeptical. Dad and I had no maintenance problems when we lived there, but now they're saying there's some kind of leak? The house was old when he bought it, so it could just be something that would have happened anyway, but I don't think that's the case. I bet they clogged the toilet and now it won't stop running. They better not be flushing diapers.

Jilliana met me at the door and told me where to find the problem as if I didn't know. Owen was in the bathroom trying and failing at cleaning up the mess, and I appreciated the effort.

"How did this happen?" I ask.

"I don't know! One minute I'm sitting here reading the paper and the next it's all coming back at me!"

So, what he's really saying is he uses too much toilet paper. Got it.

"Alright. I'll get it sorted," I said.

That was his cue to leave, but he stands over me as I attempt to decide where to begin. I'm no stranger to the wrench anymore, but I've never fixed a toilet before. And let's not forget how disgusting this entire situation is on top of being watched. I feel ill-equipped to handle this on my own, but I owe it to myself to try, however, so I give it a whirl before calling in a professional.

Without knowing how to start, I treat it just like every other sink I've unclogged. Toilets have plumbing just like sinks do, so surely the mechanics are the same. I get going, all the while trying to avoid getting drenched by the literal shit storm. I can't tell what's worse: a deluge of adult sewage or the smelliest poopy diaper. At some point, Owen sees how useless he is and leaves me alone. I felt much better without eyes on me and keep at it until I eventually stop the leak.

I'm so proud, not just because I avoided getting showered, but because I figured it out. I crushed it! Dad would be so proud of me right now. With the flood stopped, all that's left to do is clean up and leave. I thought about leaving the mess for them to clean up, but I could already see the ratings drop and the negative review. Besides, this is still my house, and the only one who's going to care for it properly is me.

Before leaving, I told the Sages I'm going to do a walk-through and make sure everything else is in order. They were having a nice family moment with their twins and kind of ignored me, so I did what I needed to do. Besides, it was kinda nice to see them in better spirits because first impressions last a long time.

The other bathroom and kitchen sink appeared to be in working order, which made my theory about the toilet paper and/or diaper flushing even stronger. If they call me again soon with the same problem, I know something.

I left them and returned home to gather my family and bid farewell to the house of my dreams. For so long, this house consumed my thoughts. I'd never been so focused or devoted to achieving something before. In the beginning, I had no idea how I'd ever be able to afford such a home, but I manifested it and made it happen. Now, I must close this chapter and move onto the next. We're leaving behind so many memories here, some good, and some bad ones too, but they all make up our story. We wouldn't be the sims we are today without the good, bad, and ugly, so it is with great gratitude that I leave this place. So long, Parkside Place in Hopewell Hills. You've been very good to us.

[imawreck]

Present

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Bucky grows closer and closer to losing himself in the attempts to find Max, becoming more like The Winter Soldier once more. While they are searching for her, Max is losing more and more of herself.

Warnings: Pretty much the same as last few chapters so please be very careful with your reading!

Word Count: 3,252

Steve-

There wasn't a second to waste when the jet landed a mile out from where Tony had pinged the surge. Everyone was storming out of the hanger the second it touched the ground, Buck leading the charge.

I was following right behind him. I might not have had the best relationship with Max or believe that she was the best for my best pal but seeing him this close to falling apart was so much worse.

We approached the rubble of what was left from the old Hydra facility. All of us shot Tony questioning glances, because who the hell would set up camp here with no cover? There were hardly trees here. It was simply a couple of crumbled remains of a building or two in a flat clearing. No one would willingly use this as a base of operations, especially if they were going to use a weapon like the Scepter.

Tony frowned. "This is where the ping came from. I'm sure. Spread out but keep on the Comms. Look for some kind of sign that they were here."

When I turned to follow after Bucky, afraid he wouldn't be alright alone, he was already gone. Well, several yards away, anyway. His back was to me as he searched the ground, obviously following some sort of trail in the grass. I hustled over to him, noting the subtle footprints here or there, the half impression of a heel every few feet.

"They were here recently," he mumbled, "Could still be here."

I watched him closely as I trailed after him. Bucky had gone from remotely friendly and sometimes conversational to a downright ghost around the tower ever since Max's capture. I hardly heard a word out of him during the weeks afterward, only heard him talk at the meetings he attended. If they didn't revolve around finding Max, he wouldn't even show up to those. Instead, I'd find him in the gym or locked away in his room. Sometimes catch him coming out of her old room with a blank look on his face and an agony in his eyes. 

Bucky had become a looming figure around the tower. Both physically and emotionally. His time in the gym was evident on every inch of him as I watched him search the ground. Tony even had to order him a new suit to fit. Despite his stature, every single step he took was silent as ever in the way only he could do. He was so starkly different from the Brooklyn boy I grew up with that I hardly recognized him nowadays. Especially in moments like these when he slipped back into The Soldier. 

When his face went slacken and his eyes became nothing but cold calculation. When his shoulders remained tense and nothing and no one, even me, could stop him from his mission at hand. I followed him as he pressed forward, following the trail of boot prints to who knows where.

"Buck," I called out, "We have to stay within eyesight of the team. We don't know who's up here."

He didn't listen, merely stalked forward. I pursed my lips and hustled after him. The brush was getting a little thicker, and it looked like Bucky was struggling a little more with following the trail. Every few feet he would stop and scan the area for who knows what. The training he possessed wasn't something I had, and I barely knew what to look for. I just tried to keep up with him in hopes that I could provide some kind of help if we were ambushed.

Suddenly, Bucky stilled.

He stood stalk still with his eyes trained on the ground a few feet in front of him at something in the brush. I raised my shield on instinct, approaching him as quietly as I could manage. Right in front of him, half buried in the dirt, was a concrete hatch. The dirt was smudged around the edges as if it had been heaved open and someone or multiple some ones had clambered out of it. 

Several sets of prints were scattered all around the dirt surrounding the hatch. Some were deeper than the others, some just partials as if they had been running. Bucky didn't waste much more time before he was reaching down with his metal arm and wrenching the door clear off its hinges. 

"Bucky!" I ran around in front of him. "What are you doing? We don't know what's down there, and we have to wait for the team. You can't go down there alone." I made sure to enunciate the importance of waiting on the team, tried to reason with him that this would most definitely be the worse way to go about things if there were still Hydra agents down there. "If you want to get her out, we do it as a team. It's the only way we can."

Bucky stalled, his eyes sweeping over to me and pinning me with the blankest look I think I've ever received from him even as the Winter Soldier. This was a side of Bucky I hadn't ever encountered before. There was a ferocity in his eyes that made me stop and really think that maybe trying to reason with him wasn't the best idea. He didn't look like there was a word in the entirety of the universe that would make him wait another second on anyone.

But he waited, lifting his hand to his ear and murmuring into it. I heard his voice echo back in my Comm as he listed off our coordinates to the rest of the team and allowed them to come into view before he dropped down into the hole without another word to me. I dropped in behind him, keeping a few feet between us and covering behind us as the rest of the team began filing in down the hatch one by one.

Bucky pressed ahead with his gun raised. He checked every single corner, searching each room one by one, but every single one of them was empty. The only thing that gave any indication that there were people here was the disturbed dirt on the floor or the occasional imprint on the dusty countertops of the labs we came across. 

Nothing else was left behind.

The closer we got to the main room, the more I could see the stress heighten in Bucky's shoulders. I knew the lack of evidence that Max was really here was getting to him. It was getting to all of us, even me.

But Bucky was unstable, and I feared that our failure to get here in time to find Max would push him to the edge. That it would put him somewhere so dark I wouldn't be able to reach him no matter how hard I tried.

We entered what looked to be the main chamber, a large room with several empty steel tables set in a semi-circle near the center. They were obviously new, and recently used at that. Unlike the other tables, there wasn't a speck of dust left on any of them. In the middle of the room was the obvious signs of something square being left there. A cage perhaps. In its absence, settled in the center of it, was a small brown box wrapped haphazardly in a paper sack and tied off with a black ribbon.

Bucky went impossibly still as the rest of the team filed in behind me. Everyone's eyes fell to the box. The only sounds that reverberated off the empty cold walls were the uneasy breaths of the team and the whir of Tony's suit. 

No one moved for what felt like forever, several minutes at least. I was afraid to speak, to breathe. I was afraid the smallest movement would set Bucky off, or whatever Roman Giles had put in that box. It could be a bomb.

I raised my shield at the thought, but I didn't have much time to do anything remotely heroic before Bucky was slinging his gun over his shoulder and snagging the box off the ground.

Panic welled up in my throat. "Bucky!"

But he was already opening it, already tearing through the paper. 

Wanda was raising her arms beside me, and Vision glided easily up beside her. "Sergeant Barnes, we don't know what's in there. It would be unwise to—.”

Bucky obviously didn't give a shit, because he flicked open the lid and glared at whatever was inside. What he pulled out was small and rectangular, not any bigger than my hand. I recognized it almost instantly from years ago. It was a recorder. I had stumbled upon the exact make and model some of the first years as Captain America taking down Hydra facilities. The scientists at the time used them to record their experiments.

As the information settles itself in the forefront of my mind, a dread sinks into the pit of my stomach. "Bucky, that could have something you might not want to hear on it." I knew very well that Giles had left it for us to find, for Bucky himself to find. This was child's play to him, a game he was very well winning.

Bucky's eyes met mine for a moment, a tidal wave of emotions crashing in them. But he didn't speak, simply clicked the button and let the recording echo off the walls of the facility.

"Tell me what you'll do to keep us from getting him." 

I flinched as Gile's voice ricocheted off the walls, rattling around in my ears. What really had my knees buckling was when a small, wobbling voice answered his demand. I could hardly recognize Max from the vulnerability leaking into her words.

 "I'll do anything, just don't hurt him. I'll kill if that's what you want. I'll become whatever you want me to be, just don't touch him. Leave him alone." 

A choked sob, garbled further by the recorder.

"I can't watch him die again, not anymore. I- I can't."

As I watched Bucky grip the recorder, eyes vacant and pinned to the floor as he listened to their exchange, I knew exactly who they were referring to. How he had made her watch him die; I could only imagine wasn't at all pleasant. Hydra was cruelly creative.

Giles spoke again, "Did you hear that Seargent Barnes? Isn't she sweet? Sacrificing herself to save you." He laughed, the sound like nails on a chalkboard and added, "The next time you see her, she will be but a husk of the woman you knew. Chow!"

At that, Bucky sent the recorder flying into the wall across from him. All of us flinched, diving out of the way to avoid the flying debris. The next thing to go was the table closest to him. His metal fingers snagged under the edge and sent it flying into the lights which sprayed us all in sparks in return. We all scattered to avoid them, immediately going into defense. 

There was a wildness in Bucky's eyes, a glimpse of a side of him we thought remained dormant without the mention of those wretched words. Alas, here he was. The Winter Soldier had come out at the mere pained voice of this woman. This woman who had somehow wormed her way so far into his heart that even this heartless killing machine had fallen for her, would break all mental bounds to come to her aid.

I was the first to snap into action, shield up and aiming for his left shoulder. I would have to disarm his strongest weapon before I had the upper hand. Bucky was stronger now, larger than I was. The fight would be over in minutes if he was fully functional. With that in mind, I rammed my shield into the plates of his shoulder as hard as I could.

Bucky stumbled, careening to the side with the impact. I had underestimated his strength, because a second later I was flying into the concrete wall. I hadn't even registered he had hit me until my head collided with the wall, effectively removing me from the equation as the room spun uncontrollably. That left it up to the rest of them.

Tony and Clint tag teamed him next, the latter shooting off several arrows that triggered into snares once they made their homes in his metal arm. Cords wrapped themselves around his torso in tight circlets. Tony took the opportunity to pin him to the wall and allow Barton to fire off a few more restraining arrows. Bucky struggled against them, yelling his head off and grunting in efforts to get away from them. 

I pulled myself from the man-shaped hole left behind me as I stumbled over to them. "Buck, you have to calm down."

If a man could snarl, that's exactly what Bucky would be doing right now. The anger on his face would be enough to send any lesser man running for the hills. 

"Buck," I repeated, "We're going to get her back, but you've got to come back first." I figured if this Winter Soldier like state he had snapped into wasn't triggered by words, then he could come out of it on his own. Right? "I promise we will."

There was a moment where he just stared at me with all the hatred in the world held in his eyes. But there was a pain there too. A pain I almost missed. Slowly though, that pain grew until it was all encompassing. His shoulders shook and his face began to twist as tears gathered in his eyes.

And just like that, Bucky began to weep.

He wept hard. His whole body wracked with the sobs that left him. I turned to the others, begging them silently to give us a moment. Tony caught the drift and motioned the others to exit the room. I turned back to Bucky, all tied up against the wall, and gathered him up in my arms. "I'm so sorry Buck." It was all I knew to say and I knew it wasn't even close to enough.

"They've tortured her, Steve. They've done God knows what, and I can't even find her." He sniffled, wiping his nose on the Kevlar on his shoulder. "I'm one of the most trained for this bullshit, and I can't find her."

I could only pull him closer, desperate to keep him from going down this dark rabbit hole. "We will find her. I'll make sure we do. I just need you to stick with the team, okay? Keep your head level as best you can while we sort this out."

He nodded weakly, but a yes was a yes. I cut him loose, letting the ropes fall to the ground and waiting for him to collect himself before we both headed back towards the jet where I knew the rest would be waiting up for us. 

It would be difficult and dangerous, but I'd be damned if I didn't give finding this girl my all.

_____

Max-

I fucking hate tranq guns. 

That was my first waking thought. The second was that I at least got a sound rest untouched by nightmares or plaguing memories. At least I had that. 

It took a few minutes to come to, finally registering the restraints around my body. I still felt week. Extremely weak, more than I had been since my initial capture. Which was never a good sign. I curled my fingers around the evident arms of a metal chair, feeling the cool surface bite against my skin. Felt the pull of the cold cuffs securing me to it. 

There was something masking my vision, a blindfold perhaps. I didn't know why; it wasn't like I could go anywhere or tell anyone if they let me see where I was. Maybe Giles just liked the suspense. I was not impressed or willing to participate. I was tired and missing the tower, missing my friends.

I hadn't allowed myself to think about them since I landed in this lovely situation. It would just bring me more pain, so I had pushed them away for my own safety. Now that I was sure things weren't going to get any brighter, I allowed myself to savor my memories of them before Giles stripped me of everything I was.

Because I knew that's what it would do. That serum, whatever he had created it with, could do that to me. I had felt it eating away at my mind when he first injected me with it, and I had to fight tooth and nail to claw my way back from it. It nearly took everything I had. But now... now that I know what they'll do to Bucky, how easily they had broken into the tower, I didn't have any fight left in me.

There was the familiar creak of metal hinges before footsteps echoed in the room I was held in. I knew that gait, the soft brush of fabric against his knees. Giles.

"Good afternoon, little bird." Something scraped against a table, "I hope you are as excited as I am."

I didn't answer, couldn't even think of it as fear began to snake its way into my veins.

There was more shuffling and then the blindfold was removed from my eyes. I flinched at the bright fluorescent lights, blinking away the pain and focusing on Giles frightening face. He was grinning, like always, and holding a syringe alarmingly close to my arm. I jerked away only to be met with the restraints once more. I fumed at him, "I'll kill you for this!"

He laughed, loud and maniacal, "You won't be able to lift a finger without my command, don't you get it? You're mine. You won't do a damn thing without my say so."

I reared my head back and spit in his face. It was the only action of resistance I could perform at the moment. "Burn in hell!"

Giles sighed, plunging the needle into my arm unexpectedly. "I'm sure I will." 

Then the burning started.

Every nerve in my body was alight, blazing with whatever the hell was in that damn syringe. I screamed, writhed in the chair, desperate to get away from the pain. Giles just watched, that wretched smile plastered on his face. My head began to pound, pulsing as my heart pumped the serum through my body. It wasn't long before I felt myself slipping.

First it was just tidbits, where I was for a moment, then it was more. Fast. In a matter of minutes, I was struggling to remember how I even got here. I was grasping at straws, clawing at my memories as I felt them slipping out of reach. They were going somewhere dark and far away.

Then the confusion chased away the pain.

 Was I supposed to be trying to get away? Who was this man standing in front of me? 

I... I had something important to do but I-- I can't remember.

A flicker of a man with blue eyes, beautiful blue eyes.

A faint thump of my heart in my ears, a pull from the image.

What... What was his name?

Feelings became harder to connect with. With each passing flicker of my life, something else in my heart was taken with it. I felt myself empty out 'til I was just the wrappings of a person who no longer existed. An echo.

Tags<3

@cjand10 / @greatenthusiasttidalwave / @imdoingathingmom / @blackbirdwitch22 / @hzdhrtss / @calwitch

[bubblegumgothglados]

Hallo, I've been reading your kink guides, which are so well written and educational!

I've had this question rattling around in my mind for a while. I'm definitely into kink, and have been for a while, especially bondage, however I don't know where I fit into the D/s framework. I've never done anything to do w powerplay, and within vanilla sex I've been switchy, as much as that's possible to ascertain when you're not purposely thinking through/planning power dynamics.

I can't quite picture what exactly I'd want or enjoy in terms of that sort of play. My local scene is apparently full of switches, however it seems that generally individual scenes are planned out on the basis of someone being a Dom and someone a sub. It's not that I'm against this; it would be interesting to play with something so clearly defined, it's more that I don't know how to find out what I like. Also I wonder if there's any way of doing kink without centering a power dynamic? Tbh even with bondage I can't really imagine it, the one time I've done it, it was very switchy but I guess automatically if one person is tied up the other person has the upper hand.

I'd want to try being submissive first, as being a Dom without having been sub first would be jumping in at the deep end. But I guess I'm worried I'm 'bratty' or would end up not enjoying it/feeling condescended, without knowing that's how I play to be able to warn someone. I don't want to avoid D/s things at all as it'd preclude p much any involvement from practicing kink, and anyway it's likely I'll love it! It just feels really overwhelming to make a start 😅 I've heard some Doms like playing with newer kinksters and sorta training them, but idk how I'd find someone who wasn't misusing the fact they've been around longer.

I'm so glad you've been enjoying my writing and found it helpful

Like any framework that presents a binary, I.e. submissive and dominant, there's plenty that don't fit neatly into those categories. There's both, switches, and there's also neither, which I don't think had a name but I could be wrong. If you feel neither then that's totally valid, and if you feel both and want switch power dynamics up mid scene flowing from one to the other as feels natural that's also totally valid. Although I do think you'll have more trouble finding partners

I do want to stress the distinction between top/ bottom, and dom/ sub. The top is the person doing the thing, penetrating/ tying/ hitting. The bottom is the person having the thing done to them, being penetrated/ tied up/ hit. The dom is the person taking and/ or being given power, making rules and giving orders and such. The sub is the person giving power, following rules and taking orders. And then there's versatile, which means you're happy both topping and bottoming. And switch, which means you're happy both giving and taking power. The most common pairing is dom+ top x sub+ bottom. But dom+ bottom x sub+ top is very fun. And I know a fair few couples who are vers+ switch x vers+ switch and they get up to all types of shenanigans.

As for figuring out what you're into. Can I suggest trying online stuff first? It'll be pretty easy to find someone willing to tell you what to do or to let you tell them what to do. It'll give you a taste of what a power exchange dynamic feels like without much risk. And just be very open and communicative, tell them you don't have experience and you don't know how you're going to react. We were all new at some point they'll understand.

I'm pretty out of it so I hope this made sense and answered your questions

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[wrongcaitlyn]

for the ask game !!! 4, 6 and 22 for tyt / dear reader in general !!!

4. If the fic required it, what did you research in order to write it?

oh SO much😭 there was definitely a lot of research into dates, at first, just because i wanted to make sure i was lining up all the award shows with the actual dates and choosing which award shows to write (also coming across the fact that grammys 2018 was on jan 28...) also, the categories that were in award shows, i had to research what exactly all of those categories were for - which ones nico would be nominated for, who they were awarded to (just the singer, also the producer?). the amount of time that i spent on the grammys' wikipedia page was much longer than i'll ever admitslkjfd

also billboard charts! i did a ton of research into records, how they're counted, because i wanted to make sure that when i was mentioning nico's milestones, they were at least somewhat realistic. i read through a bunch of billboard album reviews and articles with producers and whatnot to try and figure out the basics of music journalism.

there was research into transitioning, as well, even though i was much more hesitant to trust *google* for that sort of stuff, but i wanted to know just how easy it would be for nico to actually get top surgery and whatnot, and also the effects of binders when singing/having a performance and stuff

SO MUCH OLYMPICS RESEARCH. LIKE. god i think i complained about this at some point but seriously, the archery world championships and olympics qualification is still confusing asf to me. but i wanted to make sure that, despite kayla being a relatively minor character, i was figuring out all the right dates, how she would get qualified, records for youngest world champions, etc etc.

weather accounts. ik that it's very unnecessary but i genuinely looked up dates for concerts and what the weather was, or when i wanted it to rain i actually looked up whether it was raining, how i could twist it to when it *did* rain, and whatnot. i may be insane when it comes to details like that

and in general, i watched a lot of interviews (though that was in my free time, and tbf i've always been interested in it, even before i started writing the series) about artists and singer-songwriters and how they wrote, how they worked, and just the entire creating-an-album process

there's probably a lot more that i'm forgetting, bc i genuinely was always researching something. fun fact! there hasn't been an italian artist to reach #1 on the billboard hot 100 since 1958 (he was also the first european artist to reach #1 on the billboard hot 100).

6. How did you decide what tense and POV(s) to use?

i had just written a fic (my hunger games au) in past tense, and when writing it, i felt like i kept slipping into present. so when i started writing talk your talk, i decided to just test out present tense and see whether i liked that better (back when i thought it would be a relatively short oneshot, maybe a oneshot series)

the funny thing about that is that i thought i didn't like it, and so THEN when i wrote another fic - my marauders jegulus fame au - i decided to write that one in past tense. a warning for any writers: NEVER. write two wip's that are in different tenses. it's a horrible kind of torture. since then, i've had to write all of my other fics in present tense because i didn't want to mess up my brain while writing talk your talk - it's so confusing to switch it up, because then i'd also have to monitor what i was reading, and if i read something present tense, i wasn't able to write starry eyes; if i read something past tense, i wasn't able to write talk your talk. i couldn't write one and then switch over to the other, i had to like program my brain to think in the correct tense - ANYWAY it was very very hard and i highly recommend to never do that and just stick with one tense, at least until you want to fully switch over😭

as for the pov, in talk your talk, it was always going to be nico! the whole fic was very centered around him, and i knew that i wanted to add all these details on how he felt about his rise to fame - i really wanted that internal dialogue during shows, and school, and producing music, and also how songs would come to be and whatnot. also, i had just written my hunger games au in nico's pov, and i just really liked it😭

when it came to greatest of luxuries, i knew that i wanted to expand on the universe. that did horrendous things to my wordcount, but i think it was for the best!! i got to add more character development to will, which was *really* important to me, seeing as he and nico are pretty separate stories while nico is on tour and will is in college, and it also let me introduce a bunch of new characters!! i added a few other interludes too, with a bunch of different pov's, but the most interesting, i think, was apollo

apollo's pov/memoir (and i'm so sorry, i know you haven't gotten to that yet but i just had to include it when talking about pov's!!) is one of my FAVORITE things to write. i knew that i wanted to add more of apollo's lore and his story to the au, but for a while, i didn't know how to do it - it didn't feel right to just add an apollo pov where all he does is reflect on the past and so i got SO excited when i thought of creating a memoir. usually i'm heavily against writing in first person, but it just felt so natural with apollo - how else could you have a pov that just focuses on the past (pretty much an entirely different timeline) but still with the huge ego of apollo? while he still shows maturity and how he's grown as a person?? i'm already such a fan of including mixed media in my fics, but the memoir has to be my favoritekjldsf

22. What is something you learned about yourself as a writer from the experience?

i love causing pain. i think i already knew that, seeing as one of my first fics when starting to write again last year was a hunger games au in which i killed off like a good majority of the main cast. but there was something cool in writing angst as a theme in talk your talk, when fame au's largely focus more on the reputation of a person, conflicts between relationship, etc. not that i have a problem with those, seeing as im a sucker for literally any kind of fame au, but i sort of put them in the background for this series!

overall, i feel like i've grown such a huge amount with this fic. i started it around the same age as nico and will, only slightly younger, and now they're nearly 20 and im still 16. both in the writing sense and just in general, i really got over my fear of starting/committing to longer fics, because i really just fell in love with the universe. i learned that i *love* adding different forms of media to fics, and that one of my favorite things about writing is exploring how different universes would impact the characters differently - it would shape their personalities, give them some different characteristics and different outlooks on life, and that's prob why i love au's so muchdjfs

but the main main thing is that this is the first time that i feel like i really wrote the fic and got a huge community out of it - i've always had a few mutuals in fandoms and whatnot (both when editing and writing), but with talk your talk, i started getting repeat commenters, and eventually started my tumblr, and i realized how incredibly motivating it is to be able to share my obsession with the au with so many other people!! it's been an absolutely incredible experience <33

well i definitely rambled a lot thereDLKFJS thank you for the asks!!

[blueicequeen19]

Dirty Hot Pogue Pt. 7

Warnings: mentions of abortion, parental angst, implied mental health issues, no smut in this one.

Series ML

No one tells you how to deal with heartbreak. They don't tell you how to deal with public humiliation. Or disappointed parents. No tells you how to pick up the pieces when you're spiraling, looking for anything to numb the pain. Some people use sex or drugs or alcohol. Others pretend. They pretend nothing happened. They pretend they don't care while burying every crippling emotion that might kill them if they don't.

So that's what I did. I told my parents I was going through a phase and I needed time away from OBX. My mother and I spent two weeks in Europe after I threw my phone in the ocean, cutting my ties off from the outside world. It didn't stop my ability to dream and lust over a certain blonde. No matter what I did, I always saw his face in every shaggy haired blonde I saw. So I made it a point to avoid blondes. Then it was guys with blue eyes. Eventually it became guys in general. The thought of kissing someone, let alone flirting, made me sick to my stomach. Time away from OBX only made the sickness that is JJ Maybank stronger. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know what he was doing. Who he was talking to. Was he okay?

But I couldn't move on if I was constantly worried about him so I took up a hobby. Every time I started to think about him, I'd go for a run or read a book. I made myself okay. I did what I needed to in order to survive without him. I knew I was incredibly insecure but hearing him tell me that they didn't work out because she would always be a Kook, hit too close to home. It was almost like deja vu. Who were we kidding? I'd never have anything with him that wasn't physical. We wouldn't be able to get married and start a family. My family would never allow it. We would be miserable and doomed to fail anyway. I did the right thing. I pursued this and I had to be the one to end it.

So after I got back to OBX, I stepped back into my old life like I'd never left. Summer was over and everyone went back to school. I made sure to stay on Figure Eight and I busied myself with online schooling and running. I made amends with my parents and I even gave my Kook "best friend" permission to see Bryce, although I know they were already sleeping together. I never once see him or his friends. My life easily becomes a routine of pleasing my parents, school, running, and hiding on Figure Eight. I stay away from parties and I stay away from men.

Although, most of the guys my age that are still here whisper "Pogue Slut" every time they see me. Like they can sleep with Pogues but I can't. I'm eight weeks into my self recovery, enjoying a backyard BBQ with my parents and a few of the neighbors when the smell of cooked meat as my stomach turning so violently, I barely make it to my mothers favorite rose bush before I'm emptying my stomach.

At first, I think it's the champagne as I try to hold my hair back and my mother comes to my aid. Well, she's more concerned about her plant but she awkwardly pats me on the back as some sort of comfort. But then, as she's ushering me inside I hear someone mention the word "pregnant" and I quickly lock eyes with two girls my age who are whispering together while openly judging me with their eyes. I glare at them over my shoulder as my mother attempts to hide me inside. I can hardly think, let alone breathe as she guides me upstairs, muttering plans that I can't quiet make out.

"We have to take care of this." She gets me to my bedroom, taking out her phone and calling someone.

"What are you talking about?" I ask. Everything is running together in my mind. I'm on birth control. I can't be.. It's just the champagne. That BBQ did smell terrible. Why is everyone making a big deal?

"Hello? Dr Thornton? Yes, this is Y/F/N's mother. I need to schedule an abortion." My eyes widen in disbelief, my mothers frantic words into the phone fade out as I turn and empty my stomach again.

"You're 22 weeks." The final nail in my coffin as the ultrasound tech turns the screen, letting me see the life forming inside me. Apparently, my birth control expired. I'd ignored the phone call from the doctor and all the unprotected sex finally caught up with me.

"You're sure?" My mother demands, making me grit my teeth as the tech awkwardly nods and shows her the screen, the baby's size being evidence enough. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as the baby kicked and moved in every direction. They said I should start feeling it anyday.

"So it's too late to have an abortion."

"Mom!" I sit up abruptly, the tech scooting back as I debate throwing something at my mother.

"Y/N, don't you scream at me. Do you even know who's child this is? Do you realize what you've done? You've humiliated me in front of the entire town!" Her words are like a knife to the heart, cutting my walls down all over again. She was worried about herself. About her reputation. Not me.

"I know who the father is." I say calmly, wiping away stray tears.

"How? I saw you in Europe flirting with all those guys. Anyone of them could--."

"I didn't sleep with a single one of them! I was just talking! I was being friendly. I was trying to have some nice adult conversations that didn't revolve around what a fuck up I am!"

"Y/N--."

"Get out! GET OUT!" I scream, just as the door opens and a nurse escorts my mother out. I lay back on the table, crying harder than I ever had in my life. It's not until the tech offers me a box of tissues that I laugh awkwardly, drying my tears and snot before she continues with the rest of the exam.

"Would you like to know the sex?" She asks, handing me the pictures she's printed out. Tears start to fall again at the distinct face in the picture. The face belonging to the baby inside me. I could already see his features in the baby. The uncanny resemblance has me already knowing what the gender is.

"Yes."

I show up at JJ's house, hoping like hell his dad's not here when he suddenly emerges out of the back door. It's late, my car packed full of my belongings after my parents promptly kicked me out for not agreeing to give the baby up for adoption. JJ was my next stop. Seeing him again had all those unresolved feelings rushing back. I wanted to beg him to forgive me. I wanted to apologize but this wasn't about me. This was about our baby. JJ was the father and deserved to know. He deserved to have a say.

"Are you lost?" JJ snaps, as I step out of the car. Apparently, all the running I'd taken up had toned me down quite a bit so I wasn't showing yet. I had a slight curve from the side but that was it. No one would believe I was pregnant despite being over halfway. So I wasn't giving it away as I slowly approached him on his back porch. Plus, he wouldn't believe me without proof.

"No. I'm exactly where I need to be." I exhale hard, ready to just rip the band aid off when a leggy brunette emerges from the door just as I pull the ultrasound pictures from my pocket. My eyes lock on her but JJ's lock on what's in my hand. My first thought is to immediately retreat. He's moved on. He won't want a family with me but I quickly snap out of it when he snatches the pictures from my hand.

"What the fuck is this, Y/N?" JJ gasps, his blue eyes wide as he searches the pictures. The girl leans in close, obviously not concerned with me before she purses her lips while nodding as she examines the pictures too. Anger washes over me. How dare some skank lean over him and openly examine ultrasounds of my baby.

"Congrats, cuz." It's like a bucket of water is poured on me as she claps him on the back and steps off the porch, grabbing a bike I hadn't seen and riding off.

Cuz. She was his cousin.

"Y/N, answer me. Is this--are you--." JJ's frantic blue eyes meet mine and I can't do anything but nod, tears streaming down my face.

"This says you're 22 weeks. Why didn't you--."

"I just found out." I sob, sinking down on the porch step as I bury my face in my hands. Thanks to the pregnancy, I found out I'm also extremely hormonal.

"It's a--."

"Yes." JJ slowly sits down next to me. I glance over at him, seeing the slight smirk on his face as he slowly shakes his head before looking at my packed car.

"Parents kicked you out, huh?"

"Yea."

"Mine too." JJ sighs, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him. "I just put a down payment on a one bedroom apartment."

"I don't have any money." I murmur, the tears threatening to fall again. I was pregnant with no parents, no money, and no place to live. I was hopeless. The warmth of JJ's hand finds mine and he squeezes.

"Welcome to the Pogue life, baby." I sniffle, squeezing his hand back when his brows pinch together and he withdraws his hand.

“Look, we will figure this out but I don’t trust you. I can’t just welcome you back with open arms just because your life is a dumpster fire. I’m not a last resort. I told you that from the beginning.” I nod, absorbing his words as I take a deep breath, exhaling my old life.

“I love you, JJ. I have since the beginning. I’m sorry it’s taken all this for me to tell you. We can figure this out together but I want you to know that I love you and I’m all in. Whether you are or not.”

[pomrania]

Considering what to do for the bestiaryposting creature of this week. It's almost certainly a bird of some sort, in that it flies and has a beak, but I don't know enough about medieval aviculture to even speculate on what kind of bird it might be, that it's domesticated and in those colours.

I don't want to draw a bird, so instead I'm going to make it some type of dragon. And also, the wild variety will have JUST as much petty drama as the tame variety, it's just that humans aren't around to see it for the wild ones.

Think I'll go for a bipedal dragon, those are fun; and also means I'm less likely to end up drawing a cat. Still not sure whether "ash" means LIGHT grey or DARK grey. Trying to figure out what "variegated" might imply for the colours; I guess here it's some combination of white and grey.

Hoping that I'll be able to get something out for this week that's more polished than the previous three weeks. I've finished the cats-in-wizard-hats art event, so that's no longer going to interfere; plus my arm is functionally healed by now (I still put gauze over the area, but that's mostly to keep anything from interfering with the scab until it's fully healed). The BIGGEST most likely problem I can trace is that today I picked up a book I'd ordered, and while I don't have to worry about getting sucked into a story (and thus unable to come out until I've finished it) because it's a sourcebook, it's still something I'm very interested to keep reading.

I've a mental image, of some medieval farmer lady picking up one of these creatures (pulling it away from a hissing match with another of its kind) and going "why can't you be sedate and dignified like those ones flying overhead". Potential problems with that idea are a) will I have the time and energy to draw something that's actually a scene, instead of just what the creature looks like, and b) FOLDS IN CLOTH, they're the best thing about drawing animals in that animals don't WEAR clothes thus I don't have to depict how fabric drapes. Guess I could always do it as like a stick figure, on the side.