#anyway ive been thinking a lot about how much i would like to cease to exist

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VIII: Bigger Than The Whole Sky

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

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

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 11,5k words

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

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

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

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

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

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

“Where are your sisters?”

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

“YOUR SISTERS, WHERE ARE THEY?” 

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go get our daughters.”

“You stay with your brother.”

“No, dad, I want to go with you.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“No, dad…”

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

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

“Neteyam, wait uuup!”

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

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

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

“You caught me.” 

“Woah! What is this place?” 

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

“It’s heaven!!” 

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

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

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

“So, maybe Heaven is where Eywa is?”

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

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

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

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

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

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

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

Kalin? Brother? 

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

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

“What’s feminism?”

“What do I know? I’m six.”

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

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

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

“DADDY! YOU’RE HERE!” 

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

“WE MISSED YOU, DAD!” 

No. No. No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

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

“Parultsyìp! (Children!)” 

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

“Neteyam?”

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

“Atan!” 

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan.”

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

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

“Tell me what to do.”

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

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

“I did it!” 

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

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

“Neteyam, stop.” 

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

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

“Neteyam, why are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“No… it can’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Kids… Our kids… you saw our kids?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is happening?” 

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

“Atan, what is happening?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I think you have, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s alright, you’re ok. We’re ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he…?” 

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

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

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

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

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

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

“How long have I been out?”

“About a day?” 

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

“How is he?”

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

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

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

“He’s in a hypoxic-ischaemic coma.” 

“W-what does that mean?” 

You gulped loudly before you answered Jake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So these are our kids, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Atan… that is her name.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you'll be drowned

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

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

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

“How is he?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say that. He’ll wake up.” 

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

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

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

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

“Did Jake and Neytiri go get my dad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go, kid. We can clean him up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You started it.” 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But his body is still.”

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s awake. She’s awake.” 

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

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

“You… You passed out, kid.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey… you had a miscarriage.” 

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

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

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

[feisaru]

Cant stop thinking about your older feisaru art. I was wondering if you have a hc of what they're upto at that age. Like hobbies, career, or the people they (still) hang out with?

ALRIGHT LET ME JUST SAY- talking about them on main like this is a little hard 4 me. The whole "if it mattered less, maybe I could talk more about it" bit. I'm still gonna try to not make it super vague? While also not being as overly elaborate as I sometimes get in private chats

Fei still loves soccer a lot. Overall he enjoys powering himself out physically when he gets the chance to. Wheter that can be considered a hobby, I dunno, but he enjoys painting nails a lot, especially if he gets to use a lot of colors and to draw silly little animals on them. He also likes cooking. He taught himself how to very early after CS-finish.

Whereas Saru really enjoys reading. He's been doing that even back when he was Feida's emperor, to escape reality a bit. Every so often, Fei comes up to him and asks what he's reading. If Saru wants to infodump about it, Fei gladly lets him. Honestly, it's not a seldom occurence that they just read together. It often starts with Fei asking Saru to read out loud for him because he really enjoys his voice, while he cuddles into Saru a bit. Then after a while Saru passes him the book. Sometimes they also read their own individual novels while just sitting together. Saru also still does soccer sometimes, but for him it's more like a bonding activity with Fei? He does it mainly because Fei likes it so much and he likes when Fei is happy. He'd still enjoy leading a soccer team but other than that, the physical aftermath of the vaccine was pretty hard on him, leading to him not being able to exhaust himself too much physically (he'd still throw hands if necessary tho). Well, he was never too much into sports anyway. Despite that he still loves climbing on trees. And once again I don't know if that counts as a full on hobby but at some point, because he has so much time on hand, he started attempting to scribble Fei in notebooks. I don't think he'd tell Fei though, he finds it embarrassing.

So now to the more complicated bits! Most of these are still Thoughts In Progress™️

I try not to think too hard about the whole job thing because- I'm still not that experienced with jobs and because I can't see either of them working traditionally. Saru still hasn't forgotten about what El Dorado and the system has done to them. He wouldn't want to work in it. He doesn't want to work in a system created and controlled by people who have damaged him beyond repair. He doesn't want to pretend all's well, he doesn't just want to act like nothing ever happened. And Fei? In theory, he's the one more likely to do it, just because his morality doesn't get in the way, but I can't really imagine him feeling good about working at all. It would really drain him. So the possibility I'm tending to most right now is that they're getting the 200 years into the future equivalent of Hartz IV (as much as Saru hates existing in the state they unfortunately can't just cease doing that and so taking the state's money is still the better option) (I barely know anything about what this whole thing is like so take this with a grain of salt) and that Asurei sometimes helps them out financially because he has more than enough money for himself. They don't have a lot but it suffices to live pretty okay as long as they keep in mind they have a limited amount of money at their disposal. But like I said, my thoughts might change in the future, when I know more myself. I once have entertained the thought of making Fei a mental health professional but that's in the scraps right now because. I know someone pretty similar to him who worked as that and I sure as hell do know it would exhaust him in the long run. He wouldn't be able to handle so many people professionally at once without starting to feel worse himself. He likes psychology but the reason he likes it is that he likes helping Saru. Using psychology on people whom he meets in an office on a professional basis just ain't it

Concerning hanging out, I and a friend have an AU (Trio AU) where Fei reaches out to Zanark so the 3 of them can play soccer together when they're 17-18-ish and he third-wheels for them. Later on he gets a gf, my friend's OC. The AU is more for giggles and laughs than anything and Zanark and Saru go on each other's nerves impossibly. A lot of the time it's "calm down, breathe in, breathe out, you're better than this, there's no reason to get seriously mad at this motherfucker, and most importantly you're doing this for Fei" for Saru. They still see Meia and Giris sometimes, albeit they live a little farther away. And they probably encounter Protocol Omega members sometimes, because they live in the same city as them (thinking about them encountering Alpha and Gamma on a date someday is fun... @amalg4me)

Either way I have some drawings where they're supposed to be young adults (Trio AU, including the banana sweater, all the CS x SPOP drawings... maybe even more. Most of the fluffier drawings are set at least 2 years after Chrono Stone) but I've only recently started figuring out how to get better at varying ages and I'm still working on it

Uh btw... if you wanna see some old man cuddles... I can gladly send you some in the dms. I've been drawing them as adults a lot lately, but I don't feel like posting those drawings on main

[cheriboms]

...starting to think i am mentally unwell

[miekasa]

1+1 (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, fluff...... again....... is it getting boring and predictable yet lmao, once again the dog’s name is captain and no i do not regret it

↯ word count: 2.5k

↯ summary: levi ackerman is a cuddler, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. (aka me once again pushing my physical affection is levi’s love language agenda because he’s a poor, touch-starved little man).

i. the lap pillow: person A sits upright, while person B rests their head in person A’s lap. head pets and hair playing option, but highly encouraged.

Levi spent an obnoxious amount of time picking out the perfect couch for his apartment. He might have paid a little bit more than what he’d originally budgeted for, but it was worth it; his soft, plush couch and accompanying cushions were equally comfortable and beautiful, matching the interior of his living room, and posing at the perfect nap spot when Levi was too tired to make it to the bed, or wanted to lounge around with Captain for a while.

Or, well, it used to be worth it. Because now, Levi would rather lay his head on your lap than on his stupid, expensive couch and all its cushions.

Sure, the couch still provides comfort or refuge for the rest of his body, a comfy cavern to stretch his limbs or crash on after a long day, but with you there, all the benefits go to his head; literally, because when his head is in your lap, you stroke his face, comb through his hair, pad your thumb against his lips—whatever, Levi doesn’t really fucking care, because all of it is heavenly.

“Do you want to go to bed?” you question softly, hand raking through Levi’s hair. He’s lying on his back, not even pretending to have been watching the TV, as to let you have maximum access to his hair and face.

“No,” he says shortly, shifting his foot around to allow for your yorkie puppy to curl up at the other end of the couch, “Comfortable here.”

You try to hide the chuckle from escaping your lips. Levi certainly wasn’t shy about how much he liked your affections, especially within the closed walls of his apartment; but it always amused you just how simultaneously clipped, yet clingy he could be about it.

“Your neck is going to hurt, love,” you tell him, slowly moving your right hand from his hair to trace along his eyebrow, then down his cheek.

Levi huffs, ever so slightly. Then, gently, turns on his side, rotating his body and head, so that his cheek is now pressed along your thigh, legs curled up to his stomach, allowing Captain more space to curl into a ball at the base of Levi’s feet. He bends his arms, both coming to rest on your thighs as well, just an inch from his face.

“It’s fine like this,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep—and a bit of frustration, because you’ve ceased playing with his hair at this point, “I’m going to take a nap, don’t move.”

You can help your laughter from escaping, “I don’t really have a choice, now do I?”

He hums in affirmation, shifting around just a bit to his comfort. You smile at the way he wiggles his toes, Captain taking it as an invitation to snuggle closer to Levi. You rest your right hand against Levi’s shoulder, lightly massaging his muscles as to not disturb his drifting to sleep, and resume your focus on the TV ahead of you.

Just when you’d thought Levi was on his way to falling asleep, he lets out a discontented grunt, moving his arm backwards to grab at your wrist, and with gentle, but firm force, moves your hand that was massaging his shoulder to the top of his head. He says nothing, only moves his hand back to its previous position, and once again shifts to readjust his napping position.

You get the message, and with a wide smile, you carefully begin to thread your fingers through his hair again; and with a satisfied purr, Levi snuggles his head into your lap, and finally drifts off to sleep.

ii. the half spoon/chest rest: person A lays flat on their back, while person B curls into their side, laying their head on person A’s chest.

Levi rarely falls asleep before you do, so he’s had quite a bit of time to observe your sleep habits—as non-creepily as possible, of course.

You’re a pretty normal sleeper—again, not that he spends his time watching other people sleep, or anything—but you do have your own quirks; most of which Levi finds endearing on some level or another. Like the way you always have to have a minimum of three pillows on your side of the bed, even if you don’t sleep with all three of them at the same time. And the way your arms subconsciously curl up, usually around a pillow if Levi isn’t there, or even around yourself if there’s no object for you to grasp.

One of your sleeping ticks he isn’t particularly fond of is the way you move around. Not sporadically, and thankfully, not to a point that leaves you sprawled across the mattress at an obscure angle, but just… around. He especially hates when you roll away from him, because you usually roll away and never roll back.

Which is why Levi is generally fond of cuddling positions in which he’s holding you, as to make sure you don’t, quite literally, roll out of his arms. Because nothing pisses Levi off more than waking up and realizing you’ve rolled away and taken to snuggling against your pillow instead of him. He’s much better than a pillow. Warmer, too. Not mention, a real, actual human being.

Right now, you’re tucked almost expertly into Levi’s right side, head laying on his chest, your right arm over his stomach, hand just barely tickling the exposed skin from his shirt riding up. Levi likes the feeling of your shallow exhales rippling against his shirt, and the warmth of your cheek pressed against his chest.

He’s about to fall asleep himself, when he feels you shuffling, and oh no, not on his watch. Before the worst can happen, Levi secures his right arm over your shoulder, as to hold you against him. The urge to roll seems to leave you then, the only movement is of your right arm, which you bend at the elbow, now laying your palm against his pecs.

Levi exhales, content. Now he can sleep peacefully. Well, almost. There’s one more thing he likes about this position, and it’s his ability to use his free hand to reach down, scoop under your knee and drape your leg across his waist—and he does so happily; smiling to himself as you subconsciously burrow yourself further into his side.

Much better, Levi thinks, letting his eyelids flutter shut. It was time for bed, after all, and he had a feeling he’d be waking up warm and cozy in the morning.

iii. full contact cuddle: person A sits or lays on their back, while person B rests almost directly on top of them.

“I don’t get why you like this so much,” you say, words mumble, as you shimmy up Levi’s body to lay your cheek against his chest, “How do you possibly benefit from this?”

If you asked Levi, this was probably his favorite way to cuddle. Something about having almost all of your body weight on top of him, your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped completely around you just made him feel warm, and cozy, and content. Plus, the added bonus of you laying directly on top of his dick.

He could say all of that, but instead he opts for a minimal hum, and, a simple, “It’s warm.”

“Yeah, because you’re warm, Levi,” you point out, but burrow into his skin anyway. You’re not exactly complaining, laying on Levi is nice; especially a shirtless Levi, with how warm his body runs. And, well, for other reasons, too.

Once again, you’re met with a non-committal hum. Levi just holds you for a bit, listening for the way your breathing slows and evens out, feeling for signs of your body slowing down against his.

After a while, he shifts his arms, moving so that they’re no longer stacked atop each other, but with his palms both resting against your back, creeping under your shirt. “It’s the weight,” he replies carefully, moving his right hand to rub against your skin, “It feels nice.”

“The weight?” you question, lifting your head to look at him, your chin poking into his chest. Levi looks down to meet your eyes, a small nod in reassurance.

“I can’t… explain it,” he tells you truthfully, “I just like the feeling of you against me. It’s not symbolic or any shit like that, it just, feels good. Sometimes feels like we’re… I don’t know, connected or some shit. I can feel you breathe when I breathe, and all that.”

It’s a poor explanation, and nothing close to what he wants to be able to convey, but you understand him anyways; you always do. You have to hold back your overgrown smile, just barely letting the corners of your lips turn upwards at Levi’s response. You extend your neck briefly to place a short kiss against his jaw, before turning to head to lay back on his chest.

“No, I get it,” you reassure him, snuggling against him for extra measure, “Feels nice to just know you’re there.”

Levi hums in affirmation, his hand squeezing at your waist affectionately—a silent thank you for being able to read between his lines. You lay like that for a while, your exhales tickling against Levi’s bare chest, while his hands massage at your back.

“Besides,” he says, his hands slowly venturing down past your waist; he squeezes at your hips, adjusting you so that your center is directly on top of his, and encouraging you to lift your upper half, so that you’re looking down at him, a full view of the wicked smile on his face, “I kind of have a thing for you being on top of me.”

iv. the seated snuggle: person A sits upright, maybe slouched a bit, while person B cuddles into their side; a hand wrapped around A’s waist or arm, and B’s head resting against A’s shoulder.

Levi likes his alone time, but even when he’s focusing on himself, he’s acutely in tune with you and your emotions. And to be honest with himself, he spends a lot of his alone time thinking about you—consciously or not, you find a way into his brain, and Levi has long since accepted that you’re a permanent, and very welcome presence in his life, one that can be more powerful and enjoyable that his own solitude.

Even when he’s sitting on the couch, right leg bent and tucked under his left at the knee, a book Hange had recommended in his hand, with a shitty hospital drama playing as background noise on the television; even then, when he’s relaxing and enjoying his novel, he purposefully feels out your presence and gauges your emotions.

Though, if you asked him, it shouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to understand that you were feeling a little out of it today—maybe not quite sad, but moving a bit slower, perhaps tired, or annoyed by your day at work—despite the cheery lilt in your voice. But Levi knew, he could feel it, that something was off; but he could also feel that this something wasn’t getting talked about today, or that, perhaps you just didn’t have the words to express it right now. 

Levi greets you as he would when you come through the door, tilts his head up when you lean down to give him a kiss, and lets you pad into your bedroom to change and shower. You shuffle around after that, making your way to the kitchen to reheat the dinner he’d cooked earlier, and flitter between your bedroom and the living room after that.

And Levi knows; he knows that you want to talk to him, but that you wouldn’t dare to interrupt his alone-time, because you know how important it is to him. What you fail to understand is that you’re just as, if not more, important to him because you give him space.

So, Levi waits until you’re hovering by the doorway of the living room again, and then, without looking up from his book, silently opens and extends his left arm. He counts three seconds before you come shuffling over to him, wasting no time tucking yourself into his side, and resting your head on his shoulder. Levi hums when he feels your cheek press into his neck, and wraps his arm securely around you.

“Long day?” he questions, eyes still on his book, but reading at a marginally slower pace now.

Your eyes flutter shut at the question, working harder to snuggle yourself into Levi, wrapping your arms around his waist, “The longest.”

Levi hums, finishing his page, and tucking the ear to mark his spot before closing his book. He turns his head to press a kiss into your forehead, and pulls you a little closer against him. “It’s over now, I’ve got you.”

v. the times together/pretzel: person A rests with back against a wall/couch/object, and person B mirrors their positions; both A and B’s legs are intertwined, while they look at each other.

Levi will only take a bath after he’s showered, because there’s no appeal in sitting in your own wet dirt. That being said, post-shower baths with you are something he looks forward to, especially after a long, drawn out work week.

You both sit facing each other, legs bent and intertwined, your empty champagne glasses resting on the tiled floor beside the tub. Levi lets you make bubble beards on his face, and smiles as you splash them away and placate it all with a crescendo of kisses.

“I love you,” you smile between presses of your lips, the palms of your hands squishing Levi’s cheeks together—and he just lets you, because he loves you.

Levi thinks it’s his turn now, though he has no interest in bubble beards, or mohawks, simply mirroring your actions to cup your face with his hands, pull you closer, a whisper on your lips.

Wet thumbs pad against your cheeks, and Levi thinks that even like this, with only the flicker of candle flames illuminating your face, that you’re beautiful, and the best thing he’s ever gotten the opportunity to love and care for in his life.

So he lets you know, “And I love you.” And he means it; and you know he does.

[vantasei]

the gang! has pmdd. heres firion dying of period cramps.

ANYWAYS. no its ok. im just both enough of a nerd to pay attention to stats like that and also enough of a nerd to infodump abt this enough to have the relevant stats mostly memorized. like. i love ff2 to death. will NEVER in my LIFE recommend someone play it. it just. its not a great gameplay experience for most people. i understand that.

the fact you managed to come out of the experience with appreciation for how batshit the game is considering how little like, anything there is. thats what matters. which is to say IM GLAD I DONT SEEM LIKE. COMPLETELY CRAZY AT LEAST. ive been munching on this idea for so long im at the point where im like. am i seeing things or am i cooking.

absolutely obsessed w the concept of forklift 12 btw. firion gets his forklifting certification to help w rebuilding. firion has become too powerful with the forklift. he has begun to run monsters over with the forklift. oh god leon watch out OH GOD HES GOT AIRPODS IN HE CANT HEAR ME.

i do wonder similarly how much magic knowledge must also be spread via oral teaching as well, even excluding the tomes. like, the premise behind them being Tomes is that theyre a learned ability. wonder whos running around with proto-fire-lite used solely for firing up the stove and nothing else because they never wanted to or had to put in the effort to do more than just that. on the flip-side, grandma with fire 16 that she just never uses is also a very funny concept. she burnt her tome while learning and we cant afford a new one so now we all just have shitty versions of fire based on her explanations.

hey. quick aside. whats up w ultima. why was it in machanon. did the tome just. also die. was minwu learning from the ultima tomes ghost. what was up with that.

i do agree that esp w ultima no longer being a considerable threat to the balance of magic (and with deumion being little more than a fairy tale at this rate), that it could afford to be more lax with its distribution of magic. especially with proof that in the right (foreigner) hands, it can do good. like. its not like controlling magic STOPPED the world from going into crazy hell war time.

granted, i dont know that anything could have the way mateus was headed. the only sympathy i could offer him is palamecias geopolitical status as a relatively isolated kingdom. even as a self sustaining kingdom, being stuck between a mountain range and a desert doesnt make for the easiest travel. between difficulty with foreign diplomacy and trade, even with being a possibly metal-rich land sustainable for technological developments rather than magical ones would not do well in ceasing ones envy for what they dont have.

i am not so kind as to characterize him beyond what we otherwise see of him, but i also dont think its so bad??? one thing i do love abt mateus is just how simply straightforward he is. "i want to rule the world." it is never implied that hes doing it for his people, or that hes doing it for anyones benefit other than his own. hell, he considers it easier to just kill the dragoons than try to subdue them! while arguably, forcing total destruction in order to leave the victims no other choice than to be reliant on their oppressors is certainly a means to control, but the fact that he would defer to such a strategy says a lot about how deeply self-centered his form of "control" aims to be.

AND I THINK THAT SHOULD BE FINE. not everyone needs to be evil for a good reason. sometimes people are just evil. he knows whats up. "i want control of the world. whatever happens to its people next is their problem, not mine. i will live lavishly in my avarice, and i will let my people starve." very sincerely how he reads to me and i heart him for it.

(and to turn back to your last statement) obsessed w the fact firion is like. kind of one of the least impactful people in the game. he speaks so rarely, and though hes arguably the protag, does less than maria as a leader if you ask me. ignoring how much more everyone else actually responds to things. hes such a (guy with no thoughts in his head) to me. he just does things as theyre in front of him in the simplest way and form possible. mateus is a problem? go kill him. hes in hell? walk into hell and kill him. the rebel army is in trouble? go help them. hes not a thinking guy, hes a doing guy, with all the right intentions and surprisingly the ability to back it up. whats his design tho? no clue. i like his psp colors. i think they should give him his red cape back. hes too blue in dissidia.

biting and scratching and crying thinking about deumion, like. LIKE you don't want to kill but your skill means that you're now 1. immortal, 2. alone, 3. forced to kill anyone who reaches you (if you're unlucky.) HE'S LITERALLY SHACKLED TO DEATH ITSELF my man cannot catch a BREAK 💔 on a lighter note, leila is so fun! how did she escape the leviathan? who knows! but what I do know is that I have no choice but to stan. I am gently holding all the ffii characters in my hands. except for borghen.

IT MAKES ME FUCKING CRAZY. hes so young. one of the last things he hears before he leaves to be stuck in isolation for millennia is his mother wailing behind him, desperately crying out his name. hes just a KID THEYRE ALL JUST KIDS ITS NOT FAIR. to be forced (ITS STILL FORCED AND YOU KNOW IT. YOU CANT PUT ALL THAT ON A KID AND EXPECT HIM TO SAY NO) to hold the weight of the future on your shoulders without ever even getting to see it. to be able to do nothing but hope that mankind survives with your sacrifice. everyones futures in exchange for your own and youll never even get to see it.

LIKE. he doesnt know that the shit w mateus was going down!! he has no idea how the outside world is doing! its just him and his ouppy and the arcane labyrinth and eternity. AND THATS THE GOOD ENDING. ETERNITY FOREVERMORE ALONE AND FORGOTTEN BY THE GREATER WORLD. THIS IS NOT A GOOD ENDING DAWG IM CRYING!!!!!!

BUT HIS. HIS DESPERATION AS HE CRAWLS AFTER YOU, DEFEATED BUT UNABLE TO LET GO BECAUSE WHAT WAS IT ALL FOR IF HE FALLS HERE. IF HE RELINQUISHES DESTRUCTION TO A STRANGER HE COULD NEVER KNOW. and even then, all the others he himself had slain to fulfill his role, as someone who loves humanity so deeply that his love is all he is anymore.

HES A KID.

cough. erm.

smiles at u. leila. girlbossing it up in here. TBH even without a ship youd have to imagine shes prepped as a swimmer + leviathan would have no reason to attack her after swallowing down firion and the crystal rod plus the tower is otherwise surrounded by that ring of land. so as unlikely as it would seem, i wouldnt say its outside of the realm of possibility for her to make it to land, esp w leviathan fucking w the currents. the biggest obstacle aside from the open water would be the monsters, but then again, it's not like she doesnt come default w thunder (i have so many thoughts abt magic and mysidia and i would LOVE to hear what someone else thinks abt it if ur ever up for that). so its unlikely, but i cant say its impossible for her to make it out of there... her other obstacle would be making it off the isles Also without a ship but tbh if she swam out of the bay i think she can make it across that channel also. to be quite honest.

ff2 characters 🥰 paul my good friend paul. finally, my chance to live up to my blog title has arrived.

[bookphobe]

PLUTO AS AN IMAGINED NETFLIX SERIES + (PARTS OF) TITLE CARD

tina can you please actually write instead of avoiding it by making graphics and daydreaming did anyone hear something?? no ?? ok good.. anyway... ive been seeing amazing netflix mockups of wips lately and decided to give it a try for pluto!

read below the cut for more info + taglist !

template i used for the netflix bits here. & if anyone's curious, the font i used for 'Pluto' is called NoMark

Here is pluto: the netflix series!!!!!!!!!! everyone close their eyes and imagine it... and pretend it's there and that it's good. okay. alright. i imagine the title card & credits bit to be more sophisticated- that's only a rough idea of how i imagined it hehe. writing scripts for shows & film is actually one of my writing dreams! visual media has been something i digest much easier than novels nowadays (just stating facts 😔 creating this blog is a part of my process of trying to get back into reading and Literature in general) and while things like shot composition and other aspects of filmmaking i'm less knowledgeable on, screenplays i find really interesting

Episode List

1. MORSE — Javi takes in a runaway. A young writer recounts his harrowing ordeal following his recent arrival to the town of Fell Island.

2. SWALLOW'S EDGE — Elsa adjusts to her new life, but her past keeps a tight grip. An experienced hiker finds themselves in a rocky situation.

3. WHAT'S IN A NAME — An odd presence visits the diner. A park ranger investigates a rumour surrounding the woods.

4. WONDERLAND — A chance discovery makes Javi question his decision. A determined mother shares her story and searches for her missing daughter.

5. FROM THE WOODS — Elsa tries to get closer to Nico, but her intentions are not what he thinks they are. Cosette puzzles over what she saw.

tv pluto is a bit different than book pluto in that book pluto is, in my head, much shorter than how i imagine tv pluto to be (about 2 seasons, 8-12 eps max?? 😗), and so there would def be more content added that focus on the interpersonal reationships in tv pluto. things like storylines etc would have to be shuffled around & adjusted as well because tv and word are different mediums after all. also pluto employs the framing device - there's an outer story, concerning the customers & employees, human and non-human (wink wonk), and then they spill their tales, the inner stories; the idea of exploring that concept on tv pluto, especially with the added advantage of visuals, is cool!! and ,,, a little bit ambitious tbh since the outer story is also complex-if not more-than the inner stories. that being said the tales told during the episodes are pretty short and won't take too much of the episode time so actually hmm there'll be enough room for everything i imagine. the show would have the same vibes as these images

(CURSED™️). lots of scenes would b framed as if you were just looking in, a bystander watching these people, or watching thru the pov of the town itself as it watches its organisms' every move. notable songs in this soundtrack (i will post a link to the spotify playlist soon 🤪🤪) include strange fruit by billie holliday, and you are my sunshine, sung by johnny cash (after seeing annabelle: creation that song has not ceased in reminding me of demons LMAO). i'm a big fan of innocuous enough songs being turned into songs being paired w things that r the complete opposite of its original vibe u kno it's so Unsettling

❤️ pluto taglist @carlyiswriting @berinswriting @nightmares-and-fireflies @aetherwrites @oasis-of-you @odysseywritings @haldimilks @chloeswords @isherwoodj @avi-burton-writing @themillionthdraft @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @writingbyjillian @pamsdrabbles @piyawrites @bijouxs @ravens-and-rivers @spencers-tomes

[mc-critical]

Hello! Hope you're having a good day

I have a question about mck. I haven't watched it but I've seen a lot of cuts from episodes on youtube and fan's discussions so I hoped you might explain something to me.

Everybody says that Kosem killed her sons only for power and it wasn't for the good of the country. Is that true? Was Murad a good ruler in the show? All I know is that he was harsh and in the end wanted to kill his brothers. What Ibrahim? In history he clearly made a very poor ruler. What about the show?

Hi!

Fans often have different interpretations of the subject matter and what is perceived on-screen, so some of them might say that Murat IV was a good ruler in the show and some might say that he isn't. Really depends on what you consider a good ruler - is it someone who goes on campaigns and wins wars for his country, is it someone who cares about the people, the janissary and their opinions above all else or is it someone who considers himself unquestionable authority and refuses to take any advice, even if they took the wrongest, most problematic decision ever?

To me, show!Murat is anything but a good ruler. He ascends the throne as a kid, with Kösem as a regent, and I feel that he never actually gained any experience in how to truly rule the state. And yet, when the time comes for him to actually take matters into his own hands, he is ecstatic to finally assert his will and dominance for everyone to see and learn. One of the key problems with him are that he not only wants his decisions to be completely unparalleled and undebated, he considers everything he does as right out of principle. He has the mindset that every single decision he takes is absolutely correct and is beneficial for the state, but not because it's actually correct or beneficial, but only because he's the padişah and "the shadow of God on Earth". And there are quite a lot of decisions that are problematic at best (forbidding alchohol and then you yourself drink it) and outright destructive and dangerous at worst. (leaving just like that, even it's after a traumatic event for you, caused a huge literal revolt!) And even if he realizes what he's doing isn't right, he ignores every kind of advice when people around him tell him to do the precise opposite. This guy is so drowned in his own ego and authority that he destroys everyone around him.

But then again, there's that side of things where, writing-wise, you understand where all that comes from - most of Murat's flaws as a ruler stem from the massive past trauma of Osman's death, which only caused irreparable damage to the mind of such a small kid. It created such unrelenting paranoia that Murat began to forever believe that he couldn't count to anyone but himself. This is what his "meeting" with Osman in E47 symbolizes, he hears both what he wants to hear and that part of Osman which could never accept Kösem's outside interference. That's also the episode where "one Murat went away, there comes the other" and there he began to go further into the abyss of his own beliefs. Murat has Süleiman's paranoia, but upped to eleven in a more offending form, because while with Süleiman this paranoia grew gradually and he could let it go more easily, because despite of all he knew how to rule a good state, with Murat it was always there from the very start, constantly preventing him from doing the right thing, especially due to the constant fear of being manipulated and deceived by someone else (just like Osman thought he was.) and always thinking he's in his mother's shadow.

Speaking of which, Kösem and Murat's dynamic is the central conflict of season 2 of MCK and that's not only an interpersonal character conflict, as it would seem at first glance to someone who's new to the franchise in example, it's a conflict of one newly established and another already established powers in the palace that would never back down and fight for what they think is right. Kösem and Murat have a different relationship with the state. The state for Kösem has a dynamic role - firstly, it was a role she had to accept for the greater good (her standing in front of the people in Ahmet's name in E07 of season 1.), then she saw herself engrained in it due to her strong sense of justice. (getting revenge for her father, trying to expose Fahrye, then Handan and Derviş and lastly, ''protecting the country" from Iskender.) By season 2 country and power are already synonymous to her due to her fully taking the responsibility of a regent and taking the country in her wing of protection, always keeping an eye on it and consistently representing it without a second thought. The state for Murat, however, is static - it is something given to him by God himself, it is something he takes for granted, without truly trying to improve it. The first steps he takes as a ruler is to seemingly "clear" his own path, to remove the traitors around him. And while that seems correct and valid at first glance, he never sees the bigger scheme of things, due to his paranoia. He doesn't see the people who actually conspire to remove him (which is why he never found out the true traitor in his palace and died, thinking this person was the most loyal man ever.), but sees what he wants to see, this shadow who is looming in for years. Murat thinks his mother is a problem, which is why the first step he takes, is to immediately remove her regency and then send Kemankeş to follow her around. These two forces clash with each other incessantly, with their opinion of a state at constant odds. There have been many times throughout the show where Murat does a problematic thing, Kösem tries to snap him out of it and fails, because he doesn't want to listen to her no longer. He's always felt that she overshadowed his own reign, even in her regency years (see the flashbacks in E56.) and he wants to believe that he's already a big man, a person who can do anything, even with a big lack of experience. So whoever tries to give him decent advice is immediately washed off and out of the question, because who are they, they don't know better, he's the only one who does. This mindset is reflected as totally wrong in the show with the people and the janissary despising him, with the numerous revolts (the season literally began with a revolt.), with the multiple traitors around him, with everyone (Atike and Farya aside) turning against him sooner or later. That of course isn't appreciated by Kösem, and she, being the self-and not-so- self- proclaimed representative of the state, tries to fix this all, even if it means acting behind Murat's back. She doesn't really wish her son harm only due to him eclipsing her own power, she just sees the genuine flaws of his rule and is willing to achieve everything to fix it. Later on she began to indeed consider him as unworthy due to all the mistakes he made, claiming that the country is able to defend itself and listing qualities that all padişahs should possess like virtue and justice. She saw how messy all of it became and instinctively began to search for solutions that even came to ending him. (her ordering the doctor to cease healing his illness.) The narrative doesn't actually condemn this choice, highlighted by Murat's last flashback with him reuniting with his mother.

Murat is the one that killed Kasım and Bayezid in show, because he considers them a threat to his own power, first and foremost. Bayezid's the primary one, him being the eldest heir, with people wanting him on the throne from the get-go, when Murat was alive. Murat doesn't accept threat to his own power, and his brothers aren't exceptions, even though he told them certain times that he wouldn't put them in the kafes or take their life. Even though Bayezid became so much like his toxic mother (Gülby, I love you, but sorry.), prone to revenge, harsh actions and gaining questionable one-sided morality, his death was heartbreaking. As for Kasım, Murat took drastic measures, because Kösem thought Murat was dead and tried to calm down the people by bringing to them Kasım exactly as the next sultan. This was extremely harsh, because after all Kösem used it only as a desperate measure, to calm the people down and to apply the most optimal solution. Putting Kasım in the cafes when you once said that you wouldn't is honestly chief irony, reaching Süleiman's level, but worse.

Yes, Kösem was the one who ultimately sealed the pact to kill Ibrahim, but this was due to manipulation. Turhan Sultan wanted his death to pave the way for her little son and gain absolute power, so she indeed pushed Kösem's love and dedication to the country against her. She was put in a position where she had no other choice but to accept - we had a mentally ill Sultan as a ruler, one who could be reckless, one who could cause imbalance and instability and one who also doesn't really listen. So she decided his destiny and the theme of the loss of innocence, the core theme of the whole show, came full circle. She killed Ibrahim, but she wasn't happy with it, she was devastated and her conscience spoke so loudly, she couldn't unhear it. And that deed of hers made her give it all up - by the time of her death, she only wanted piece, nothing else, and she wasn't even interested in who gets the ring of power and she wasn't all that focused on her own death, either. Life was over for her.

Anyway, yeah, it all depends on interpretations of the events and characters and where your sympathies extend. MCK has really interesting and complex themes and I wholeheartedly recommend for you to watch it to drive your own conclusions. Thanks for the question and have a nice day!

[amelialincoln]

Good Days pt 3

“Link.” Amelia’s voice was thick with exhaustion and pain. He glanced over at her, temporarily ignoring the nurse who was talking to him about Amelia’s post birth care and placed a hand over her trembling one. This seemed like her millionth contraction and Link didn’t know if he could handle even one more. Amelia’s eyes squeezed shut and she let out the pathetic moan that he’d begun so used to hearing. Link hadn’t really processed the idea that Amelia was going to give birth without any pain meds. The couple hadn’t really taken the time to go over the birth plan together and Link had completely forgotten that Amelia didn’t want to be given an epidural. He hadn’t helped with a whole lot of births in his career without one and almost wished he’d had the preparation. “Where’s Addie?” She forced out.

“She’s coming,” he promised her, moving so that she could lay her head on his chest for support. “Her cab is just in traffic.”

“She’s six centimeters,” the nurse announced, as if it was good news. Amelia burst into tears and covered her face in her shaky hands. Link sighed, wiping the small beads of sweat that had formed at her hairline. He tied her hair back with a claw clip and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He’d run out of ways to comfort her and it was infuriating him that there was nothing he could do.

“I just wanna go home,” Amelia sobbed. “I want to hold Ellie and play cars with Bailey and sleep. I don’t want to have this baby.” That last part made him flinch. Did she not want to have a baby with him? Was she regretting her...their choice? “Link, stop,” she exclaimed and he realized that he’d been squeezing her too hard while deep in thought.

“I’m--” his apology was cut off by the opening of the patient room’s door.

“Addie,” Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. Link felt some of the tension melt away from her shoulders. He wished he could understand Amelia’s attachment to this woman he’d never met. He didn’t see why, if all else had failed, it was such an issue for Carina to be Amelia’s OB.

“I’d apologize for being late but I think you're the one who owes me one,” the redhead’s voice was strict but full of affection. She tied her hair back swiftly and gave Amelia a gleaming smile. “Hey, little sis.” Link had started to wonder why Amelia needed so many sisters despite having three of her own. He felt her begin to shake and he looked down to find her tearing up again.

“Mia?” He was reaching a whole new level of helplessness. Amelia refused to tear her eyes away from her old friend.

“I missed you,” she choked out. “This isn’t a unicorn baby, Addie.”

“I know.” The way Addison smiled made Link feel comforted and he didn’t even have any idea what was going on. “From your chart it seems like he’s been stirring up all kinds of trouble.”

“He’s a kicker,” Link offered. He was relieved when Amelia nodded. The small gesture that confirmed that he’d said something right made him want to wrap her up into a hug and never let go. Jesus this woman had him hooked.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you.” Addison turned to him. “I’ve heard great things.” She winked at Amelia. “But it’s not like you have a whole lot to live up to.” Her expression darkened so momentarily that Link questioned if it had even happened. Something was telling him that she’d seen something in Amelia that he’d never experienced. Amelia’s next contraction pulled him out of his thoughts and he shifted into a position that allowed him to press firmly on her lower back. Her contractions had gotten strong enough that the pressure point had started to provide little relief but he decided to try it anyways. She relaxed momentarily before tensing up again and letting out a heartbreaking cry of pain. “Amelia, breath,” Addison ordered, her eyes flicked to the monitor and she frowned. “Your BP is low, have you eaten?”

“Not for awhile. She threw up the last time she tried,” Link answered when his girlfriend couldn’t. He stared down at her and took in her clammy skin and pale complexion. Filled with guilt he realized she’d been looking like she was about to pass out for probably an hour now.

“Let’s push fluids in her IV,” Addison barely acknowledged the nurse as she typed notes quickly into her Ipad. “Go get her soup or a smoothie or something from the cafeteria.” It took Link a moment to realize she was talking to him and the idea of leaving, despite Addison being here for him now, terrified him.

“I can grab that,” Maggie’s voice interrupted his thoughts from the doorway and Link said a silent prayer. She gave Amelia her famous sister comforting smile and introduced herself to Addison. Link pulled his girlfriend into his chest tightly.

“I’m okay,” the lack of pain in her voice was almost too comforting. “You’re going to have to get used to this if we end up having the four kids I always planned on,” she teased.

“Four?” Link gawked. One birth seemed like enough for a lifetime and he wasn’t even the one experiencing it.

“Your mind blocks out the memory of the pain once you give birth. I’ll be ready in no time,” she winked.

“Well guess who won’t forget.” Link’s smile masked his complaining tone and Amelia couldn’t help but grin back.

“I’m going to go put on scrubs and let Chief Bailey know I’m here.” Addison interrupted the couple’s momentary look of content and smiled to herself. “Man, I could get used to saying that. Chief Bailey,” she tried out the words again as she walked out of the room.

                                                          [][][]

“Okay, Amelia,” Addison’s gloves snapped as she pulled them on, “time to push.”

“I can’t,” Amelia was drenched in sweat. She’d contracted all night and hadn’t slept in what felt like days. Link hadn’t slept either. Whenever he would close his eyes he’d be immediately awoken by Amelia crying out in pain and would feel guilty for even trying to nap. “Addie, I can’t.”

“Yes you can, Amelia.” Addison probed the underside of her belly softly and moved Amelia’s legs into a bent position. “You’ve been through worse.” Link wasn’t sure whether that was aimed at his girlfriend or if Addison was simply murmuring it to herself. “Next contraction, just like last time.” Amelia gave no response, instead she leaned her head back with exhaustion and squeezed her eyes shut, Link could feel the tension rolling off her in waves. “Amy, this is not the time to give up.” There was a hint of panic in Addison’s voice and it scared him. Link menuevered his way behind his limp girlfriend’s body until he was sitting directly behind her with her leaning on his chest. Her skin was practically burning against his cold touch. Amelia had cranked the thermostat down hours ago and the inside of the room was freezing.

“I’m here for you,” he pushed sweaty pieces of hair aside and mumbled into her ear so quickly he began to doubt if she heard him.

“I need something,” her head swooned and she practically fell back into his chest, “for the pain.” That made Addison shift uncomfortably at her place between Amelia’s legs.

“Are you sure?” Link wasn’t sure how to reply.

“It hurts,” her voice was as delicate as a china doll and was beginning to break. “I can’t I-” The next contraction hit her like a ton of bricks and she wailed in a way that made Link want to run out of the room.

“Push, Amelia,” Addison ordered. “I’ll take you up to an OR now if you don’t.”

“Come on, babe.” Link was surprised by the urgency in his own voice, he caressed her tight abdomen gently and prayed that he wouldn’t have to sit beside her in an operating room.

The next half hour was painful. Link could tell she was doing her best but as every contraction came and went he felt Amelia grow weaker in his arms. Which is why when Addison announced that the head was cleared, Link could barely suppress his surprise. He found his eyes searching for Addison’s and she gave him a nod of confirmation.

“Couple more now,” Addison patted Amelia’s thigh affectionately. Link coaxed Amelia through two more pushes until he felt her body give up.

“I can’t--” she started.

“You don’t have to,” Addison grinned and at that very moment the couple heard the sounds of their baby boy’s cries for the very first time. Amelia erupted into sobs and Link could feel himself melt inside just a tiny bit. He didn’t say a word as Addison passed the wiggling infant into Amelia’s shaky arms and counted each finger and toe silently. The baby’s cries ceased the moment he was placed on Amelia’s chest and cuddled up soundlessly into his mother.

“He’s perfect,” Amelia squeaked, looking up at Link to confirm, who nodded. He looked so much like his father already and reminded her so clearly of someone else. The realization hit her so hard she had to gasp. The baby in her arms looked remarkably like Derek did as a baby. Although, she’d only ever seen photos there was no denying it.

“Derek,” Addison murmured. Amelia looked up in shock and her eye’s met her brother’s first wife’s teary ones. “The resemblance…”

“I mean he’s so young but it’s,” Amelia paused in disbelief, “his nose and,” she searched her peaceful son’s face, “those eyes.” She looked up at Link with delight. “He’s got your bone structure, look at that little jawline.”

“Good to know there’s a little bit of me in there,” Link teased, holding back tears. It was true, the baby was Shepherd through and through. From the dark features to the piercing blue eyes but Link could see pieces of himself scattered in there as well. The couple could’ve spent hours marvelling him while Amelia got stitched up but eventually Addison had to take their boy away for some tests and they both tried to ignore how much it hurt them to hear his cries as she lifted him out of his mother’s grasp. “Are you comfortable? Hurting at all? I can--”

“Just hold me,” Amelia chuckled. “I just need a nap.”

“Okay,” Link finally let himself relax knowing that she was alright and that everyone and everything he cared about was going to be just fine.

this is the final bit of this fic. I've written tons of post birth fics so plz don't ask for a continuation without reading those haha :)

[goldenworldsabound]

Journey to Jueyun Karst IV

With materials gathered, Wendy and Xiao return to Wangshu to meet up with Zhongli. Finally part to this fic series! Prior parts: I, II, III

content warning: none.

word count: 776

It seemed to Xiao that going out of his way to do something nice for Wendy, notably taking down several Ruin Guardians while Wendy watched in awe, had an interesting side effect. Happily holding some of the pieces in hand as they headed close to Wangshu, she had not stopped babbling about any number of subjects. They had included how cool Xiao had looked while fighting and a minor analysis of his use of Anemo (as compared to Venti, of all people), her plans and ideas for the materials she'd acquired, and now a small dissertation on her understanding of how Ruin Guardian's worked based on the materials she got from them.

It was a lot, and frankly, he was hardly listening. But he was surprised to find the sound of her voice pleasant, even if he ignored the words themselves.

Something seemed familiar about it all.

Memories bloomed in his mind. Rex Lapis was much like this. It was easy to get him talking on a subject for ages, and with his vast knowledge, he could talk for years without ceasing. That had never happened, of course, but Xiao had no doubt it could.

This felt much the same.

How interesting, that a human could have traits that so resembled Rex Lapis. And not just any human, but the human Rex Lapis allegedly had romantic feelings for. Had he rubbed off on her, or had her tendencies drawn him to her in the first place, Xiao wondered idly. He supposed it didn't matter.

"Are you smiling?" Wendy asked, grinning.

Xiao immediately scowled. His lips had upturned the slightest amount. "I don't smile. There's nothing to smile about in this world, for someone like me." He crossed his arms. "I was simply thinking while you rambled on."

"Hm. Okay!" Wendy seemed unperturbed by his response, and this annoyed him slightly. He had certainly not been smiling, and certainly not because of the comparisons he'd managed to draw. He kept his annoyance to himself.

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

Zhongli, waiting atop the Wangshu Inn, couldn't help but smile to himself as he saw Wendy and Xiao approaching the elevator below. Wendy was clearly speaking, and Xiao had a calm expression that was noticeably devoid of annoyance. He even seemed to say something back, and Wendy smiled.

Zhongli had suspected the two would find a way to get along. He had a feeling Xiao's isolation had not been good for him. In truth, he was more than happy that Xiao had requested Zhongli to visit him again. If Zhongli had learned anything as he'd began to recognize his own emotions and those of others, it was that Xiao was surely lonely.

The odd pair disappeared into the lift. Zhongli turned, resting his back against the railing, waiting for them to arrive.

As the lift docked, Wendy caught sight of him, her face breaking into a wide grin.

"Zhongli!" Wendy ran up and tackled him with a hug. Zhongli was glad his back was already against the railing to brace against the force of her hug.

"I see you missed me, beloved." Zhongli stroked her hair gently.

"Of course! I can't wait to tell you all about our trip."

"I take it the two of you got along then?" Zhongli asked, turning his gaze to Xiao with a smile. Xiao grunted in response.

"I suppose." He replied, crossing his arms and looking away from the affectionate display. Zhongli knew Xiao well enough to recognize that this response was a very good one, coming from him. Zhongli felt his heart swell with joy. Before he could respond, Xiao continued. "You two are a good match."

Zhongli felt his eartips warm, but he wasn't embarrassed at all. He was thrilled. The comment was so unexpected, so unlike Xiao - it made it all the more meaningful.

"You think so? I'm happy to hear that." Zhongli replied with a quiet laugh. He pretended not to notice how Xiao's face had flushed.

"Me too. Glad I have your approval, Xiao!" Wendy relinquished her hold on Zhongli, shifting around to hold his hand while facing Xiao instead, grinning.

"I didn't- I didn't say that!" Xiao snapped. "Rex Lapis doesn't need my approval, besides!" His face was noticeably redder now.

Zhongli laughed. "I see you two have become fast friends."

"Tsk. Definitely not." Xiao scowled, looking down to try to ignore the warmth on his cheeks. " Anyway, whatever. I'll see you with that medicine next time." And with that, Xiao turned and walked away.

"Indeed." Zhongli murmured, a hand over his chin thoughtfully. "Shall we grab dinner before retiring to our room?"

"I would be delighted. Time for Golden Crab!!!!"

[theoriquewitherseld]

Heck I DO wanna know more! I'm super interested in thia fic 👀

OK I am SUPER happy receiving this ask, but alas all I can offer is a lot of excerpts,, more under the cut

When Jacques arrives at Stain'd, he finds the records to be VERY accurate: it's a deadzone. That would likely explain the weird look the conductor gave him when he requested to get off. There's no longer anybody here

Back then there must have been some, perhaps, in order to enact Lem's apprenticeship. But he still regards the situation with an air of apprehension. Large chunk of reports were missing, reports that were leading up to his disappearance. It could be that VFD hid it, of course, but intentional or not, its denominator remains the same: something monumentally terrible occured for that to happen.

And he will have to walk straight to it. Or at least, its aftermath.

The rattle of the train leaving startles him, and he shakes off his nerves. He wants so badly to get back on the train, jump on the railings perhaps but the rear has gotten quite a distance away. He's already alone.

(Oh God I just realized I have no idea what people do after they get off trains. Should there be like people taking ur tickets or something?? Ive been on a train only once and that was super long ago)

The Stain'd Station was utterly deprived of life. Everything was cracked and looked in the danger of falling apart. Litter and dirt was strewn all around. There was no place that Jacques just wanted more to bail out of immediately (except, perhaps, that one wasp-infested area but that is besides the point). It unnerves him, to listen to the echoes of his footsteps in the abandoned station, with its business nothing more than a ghost of its past. It rattles him more than the rattle of train wheels on the tracks. But he trudges on, hoping to find some clue.

Out on the street was no better. All buildings were boarded up, some windows smashed. Brown grass was growing out of the sidewalks. There was few vehicles on the side of the road: a brown rusty one with its hood popped up and its insides gone, a yellow cab so terribly dented, and a black one with its paint job scratched and all four of its tires missing. It was a miserable place, not fit for any human life, much less an apprenticeship. He grimaces in dismay. This is where they dumped his brother? Even as a containment procedure, it was a bit much. No person should be in this place.

But that wasn't the most pressing issue. The most pressing issue is where to start. He does not have the faintest idea where he is in this desolate town, much less where his brother stayed for the duration in the past — except for the address of The Lost Arms. But that information was useless without a map, and every other map he scoured to know about the town has vehemently insisted that Stain'd-By-The-Sea does not exist. Whether VFD has already tampered with those maps, he can not tell.

He had hoped there may be a clue in there, some forgotten item, a thing accidentally left behind. But with no map, his best course of action is to simply search every establishment and hope for serendipity. Not all of the best things are necessarily good things.

He hears a rumble of an engine.

His gaze snaps upwards, puzzled if whether or not he had imagined it. Then he can see the yellow dented cab making its way towards him at a snail's pace. Jacques's heart stops, and gripped his suitcase until his knuckles turned white. It was a trusty little suitcase, filled with tools and files that are of great use of him, but he's not so sure if it were of any use against a damned ghost cab. If it were really a ghost. If Kit was here, she would've scoffed at him. But he's not really feeling up to an argument, not when his feet was stuck to the pavement, body frozen into place. He stares, heart pounding like there was no tomorrow as the taxi pulls up to its side, exactly right in front of him, and stops.

But then the window rolls down, and Jacques felt very, very foolish, but immensely relieved, as it reveals a worn and much younger face of a boy with a busted blue cap.

"Well, hello there friend," he says, with a voice just as tired. "Another visitor was the last thing we expected, but —" he gives a small shrug, "— here we are. Need a taxi?"

It took him a moment to realize how stupid he looked with his mouth gaping open. "I-I'm sorry," Jacques stammered, once he found his voice. "We?"

Another younger face pops up from below the young driver, and Jacques nearly jumps in surprise. "That would be us, the Bellerophon brothers," he reveals with a squeaky but cracked voice. "I'm Pecuchet, and this—" he points upward, and his brother tipped his hat at him, " — is Bouvard, but that makes people's tongue tired, so you can call him Pip, and me, Squeak."

The driver known as "Pip" frowned. "Are you alright though? You've looked like you've seen a ghost."

His eyes fluttered. "Er  — Yes, yes, I... I am afraid I also didn't expect anyone to come here either." He tips his white hat at them in turn. "Greetings to you, I am Ja— James Moore."

Internally, he cringed. It was a sloppy pseudonym, but he can't risk revealing who he is in the potential situation VFD managed to track his trail, they wouldn't be able to hold incriminating evidence against him. Curiously, it didn't arouse much suspicion from the odd duo, except for a slight tilt of the head.

"Well, nice to meet you Mr. Moore. Do you need a ride anywhere?"

Jacques is not quite sure what to think of climbing into a cab with kids of odd names in an abandoned town. However, his relief in discovering that there is fellow life, inexplicable as it is, and a likelier possibility of gaining information triumphed over whatever reservations he had at the moment. In the pursuit of his search, with its very nonexistent lead, he'd take anything.

"I'd like to go to the Lost Arms please."

"Sure," Pip reached out behind him and opened the door. "Hop in."

He pauses, and then climbs in and closes it shut, and soon enough, the two brothers drive away from the Station with startlingly expert hands on both wheel and brakes. Jacques is fairly impressed at their coordination.

"Say," Pip starts, once they got a quite the distance away. "Apologies if it sounds prying, friend, but out of curiosity, what business does a stranger have with Stain'd-By-The-Sea?"

That shook him out of his stupor. Idiotically, he hasn't prepared for that, he was ascertain there won't be anyone here, he even got business cards and all but it's not in his suitcase (which he wants to smack himself on). His mind blanks for a moment, but he manages to scramble an answer that isn’t necessarily a lie nor a truth. "I am private investigator hired to search for someone last seen in this town."

Pip looked at him through the rearview mirror, which was a bit dirty and cracked. "Oh? That certainly does explain why someone wants to be in this town."

Jacques didn't bother to clarify he does NOT want to be here at all, but he nods his head instead.

He expertly steered the wheel. "You wouldn't happen to be allowed the details no? Sorry, but interesting things have rarely happened here since..."

"I'm afraid not, no," Jacques blinks. That felt off. "Speaking of visitors, you haven't happened to have driven someone around lately no?"

"Until you came along? Not one for the past year. No outsiders at the very least."

He deflates a little, but he's unsurprised. So he really wasn't here recently. He was about ask more, when the taxi came to a stop in front of a shabby and derelict building he would presume to be the Lost Arms.

Once again, Pip reached out to open the door for him. "Here we are then, Mr. Moore."

"Thank you," he says, retrieving his wallet. "How much is the fare?"

Pip blinked in surprise. Then his eyes flickered towards the wallet, and his eyes widened further. "Huh, I never expected a paying customer today either."

It puzzles him so much that he tilts his head. Did they just let him ride as a charity? "Well, it's only natural to pay for a service, no?"

He just shrugged. "It's alright. Keep the money, it's not gonna be much use anyways, with the state of the town. You may wanna give that to the proprietor though —" he nods to the building, "— Prosper Lost."

"Well, I shan't dare to think of leaving this taxi without giving something in return," Jacques insisted.

"How about a tip then?"

"A tip?" he frowns. "A tip what?"

"Anything really, s'long as its useful."

That got him thinking. He thought of giving them a tip of accepting money when they get it and leave this terrifying place, but decided against. He then looks up.

"Here's a tip, there's this book that..." he trails off, feeling a painful lump form in his throat. "That my associate enjoys. Champion of the World, heard of it?"

~

Ellington feels the bitter sweetness on her tongue. The air was damp and cold after the shower, having ceased into droplets. Everything reminded her the cool greens and blues of a watercolor painting. At the distance, the light of the morning sun peaks through. She's glad she's getting some pieces of her back, but some of the damage will be permanent, and some things are just lost forever. Seeing the Association and strangers and natives to Killdeer fields all work together to set things right was amazing, but also drove home on the tragedy of Armstrong Feint, whose pursuit of vengeance blinded him, destroyed himself and set back hopes of recovery for years. The pain he inflicted was an unnecessary cruelty, that if he had bothered to spare, even the tinniest bit of mercy and offered his help, he would've witnessed the return of the sea and the recovery of the environment, and they could've been together.

But he had made a decision. All of their parents did — the Mallahans, the Hixes, the Knights, the Bellerophons, the Losts. What's done is done.

She remembers a line that her father read her once, many years ago. It was the book where Snicket claimed a wizard was not so very helpful, and that her father loved because of its elaborate descriptions of trees. Many elaborate description of trees.

"'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo." Ellington murmurs to herself.

"'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.'"

She stares at the sky.

~

But there was a knock at the door

They both froze. Moxie is still on the phone — with who, Kellar didn't hear.

It could be anyone, Kellar thought, perhaps some coworkers who forgot their stuff, or has the intention to work overtime. It may even be some neighbor, asking for help or providing assistance. It could even be a fellow Associate. There's no reason really, to think there could be enemies on the other side.

But he walked anyway. His breathing far too loud and uneven, yet his pace cautious and fearful. He calls out, "Who's there?"

No answer.

"I'm warning you," he says slowly, attempting to keep the tremble out of his voice, "that I'm armed."

Silence. It's a blatant lie of course, but no matter how he strained his ears, he still can't hear anyone walking away. They’re not fooled.

He motions to Moxie to get ready to run. A few seconds, he could buy that. Enough seconds to scramble whatever data they need and bolt like hell. Kellar doesn't see if she saw it.

The door is inches away from him now. His heart pounded in his chest. His hands carefully placed on the dark wood, and he looked into the peephole.

Kellar had barely moved his head in time just to dodge the blast shot that would've blown away bits of his brain, but had blown off half of his right ear instead.

He screamed, it hurt, hurt worse than anything he'd known and he's sure he's lost his hearing there, but he let the wound bleed and instead ducked and braced himself against the door to keep them from opening it. "Moxie run!"

~

"Look at him. Look. At. Him." Pip hissed, and Squeak looked at them with an air of innocence. "You think that's an angel?? A beacon of innocence?? Wrong. That's bastard incarnate. The single source of maliciousness on this earthly realm. Look. Look how evil he looks. He's a little prick."

~

"Frankly, I'd love to have a sibling," Cleo said.

Kellar looked at her as if she said something deranged and jabs a thumb towards Lizzie. "No, you don't. I love my sister, but you think she won't sell me off to the circus first chance she gets?" He shook his head. "Think again."

~

"Dibs."

"What the—" Moxie then scowled. "That was too fast."

Snicket just shrugged. "I have two older siblings, Moxie. The true nature of siblings... Is natural selection."

"Are you certain you should be using big boy words like that?" Ellington asked, bemused. "I'm fairly certain you can't even differentiate a crocodile and an alligator."

~

"If I may introduce you to my family," Jacques says.

He points to Kit emerging from his side. "— Parasite number one—".

And he points to Snicket as he emerges from the other. "— and Parasite number two."

~

"Alright, does anyone have any questions?" Jacques asks tiredly.

They all raise their hands.

"That isn’t sarcastic," he snaps.

They all lowered their hands, disappointed.

Jacques sighs. "Lizzie, you've got the stage."

~

"Just what time is it?" Ellington inquires, exhausted.

"Hang on," Kit smiled, and instead of whipping out a clock, she instead produces a clarinet. She took a deep breath, and blew. Before she could even make it to the second note, they look up at the ceiling— startled— suddenly hearing a very muffled but very clear yell from Jacques, Kit, are you seriously playing the clarinet at 2 IN THE DAMN MORNING.

They look down. Kit still has a devilish smile plastered.

"It's 2 am," she announces.

[talesfromlissom]

Glory of the Moon

A/N: This is split into four separate parts, and it’s also really long so uh yeah, sorry if the characters act ooc, I’m still trying to figure out who I want to write most of them, and I haven’t done character studies with any of the characters (minus solider:76) so sorry y’all.

This is also a GN reader for all the people that like GN readers, so any pronouns can go for the role of (Y/N) ;), have fun~

This is kind of my own idea, featuring Poly!Mchanzo but Mcree and (Y/N) are werewolves. 

Summary: As the recall has been issued, new recruits start to flood into overwatch due to recommendations, from old and new allies. However, the newest recruit seems to have an interest in Hanzo, much to Jesse’s dislike. 

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

“So, what do you think of the new recruit?” Was the first thing that came to Jesse’s ears that morning.

Jesse shrugged.

“Haven’t met ‘em yet.” 

“Well, from what Lena tells me, his name is Dallas, and...he’s a werewolf.”

Now that caught Jesse’s attention.

“Another one? Damn, might as well make half of the base off limits during the full moon.” 

“Bah! The only thing you and I do according to Hanzo is bother him with belly rubs.” 

Jesse snickered.

“Speakin’ of Han, where is he?”

(Y/N) shrugged.

“Not sure, he said he wanted to go and train before people started filling it,” (Y/N) replied. “He says he doesn’t like it when he keeps people waiting.” 

A pause.

“Liar.”

“Fine, he said that he doesn’t want Genji to come into the training ground and challenge him to a fight in the middle of the day.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“If you tell him that I told you that he’ll smother me with a pillow.”

“I...Ima tell him.” 

“Jesse-mf-Mcree, you better not-”

                                                  ──•~❉+❉~•──

“Well ain’t he a sight.” Jesse muttered, as (Y/N), and him had come to the training grounds, seeing the new recruit.

(Y/N) could tell he was new, he didn’t have a uniform.

This man was dressed in black jeans, ripped jeans of course, (Y/N) smiled.

This man was young, maybe getting into his late 30’s, and with his white t-shirt and his black jacket, he knew this man at least had a fashion sense.

(Y/N) heard tapping of feet fill the air, and based on how fast they moved they knew automatically who it was.

“Heya Han, how you doin’?” Jesse said, beating (Y/N) to greeting the smaller man.

“Well, I was training, but the new recruit came and people filed in.” 

“Ah! My friends!” Reinhart’s booming voice yelled. “Come meet the new recruit!” 

“Speak of the devil.” Jesse muttered as the crowd parted. 

(Y/N) crossed their arms and raised an eyebrow as the man walked over.

And Jesse extended a glance to (Y/N) as the man came into range.

This man was definitely a werewolf.

He practically wreaked of it.

However, (Y/N) couldn’t pinpoint what pack he was from, because he didn’t smell like an omega. 

The man grinned at (Y/N).

“Alpha (Y/N)? Is that really you?”

(Y/N) smiled. “In the flesh, and you are?” 

“Dallas! Dallas Starmonger! I’m from the western pack in Oregon!” He beamed. “It's an honor to speak to you!” 

(Y/N) grinned. 

“The western pack? Ain’t y’all-” Jesse began.

“And who is this?” Dallas asked, gesturing to Hanzo. 

Hanzo paused.

“Oh, Hanzo Shimada, at your service.”

Dallas watched as the man extended the hand. 

“No, the pleasure is all mine.”

And (Y/N) had to stop Mcree from storming over when the man kissed Hanzo’s hand.

Hanzo blinked as Dallas walked by, clicking his teeth and entering the base.

“What the ‘ell was that!” Jesse cried.

“A proper greeting?”

“He kissed yer hand, Han.”

“You do realize that is a form of greeting, Mcree?” 

“But-”

(Y/N) shook their head.

“(Y/N), help me out ‘ere!”

“No. I’m gonna go train with Zarya and Mei, see ya.”

“But-but darlin’-!” 

“Bye Jesse! Go talk to Dallas or somethin’!” 

Hanzo snickered as Jesse crossed his arms and pouted.

“Are you jealous Jesse?”

“No.” 

“Jesse, calm yourself, this man is a werewolf, if I am correct, your scent, as well as (Y/N)’s lingers on me, he’ll know to keep away.” 

Jesse still pouted as Hanzo gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked into the hall, and turned to go towards the cafeteria.

He stood there for a bit.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. 

                                               ──•~❉+❉~•──

“He still hasn’t said hello to me.” Jesse huffed.

(Y/N) shook their head.

“Jesse, he probably didn’t see you.”

“Didn’t see my ass, he looked right at me!” Jesse paused. “Somethin’ about this guy doesn’t feel right.” Another pause. “Jeez, if I had a dollar for everytime I caught that man staring at Han, I’d pay off my own goddamn bounty.” 

(Y/N) rolled their eyes. “C’mon Jesse, you and I said that about Hanzo, and now look where we are, we’re all dating.” 

“Tsk.” Jesse muttered, rounding the corner. 

“And besides, Hanzo is the most observant out of us, if he knows something is up, he’ll know it before we do.” 

“I just, I don’t-”

Jesse came to a halt, spying Hanzo and Dallas down the hall.

Hanzo was leaning against a wall, with Dallas hovering over him, the two engaged in casual chatter.

Jesse gestured to the two.

“See?”

“Jesse, be polite.”

“I am being polite!”

“Ah, (Y/N), and...Joel..?” Dallas began as the two walked over.

“It’s Jesse.” Jesse hissed.

“Ah, Jesse right,” Dallas corrected. “So, you  three are the only werewolves here?”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Three?” 

“Hanzo ain’t a werewolf,” Jesse muttered, and (Y/N) narrowed their gaze at him, noticing the slight attitude in his tone. 

(Y/N) huffed at Jesse who narrowed his gaze even further. 

“Ah, he’s a human then?”

“Yep.”

“Hm.” Dallas said. “That’s a good thing to know.”

“And why’s that?” 

“Jesse, calm-”

“No no, it's fine,” Dallas said, scratching the back of his neck. “I heard that the new recruits get paired to spar against the older recruits, so I just wanted to know so I can go easy on him-”

“You do not have to go easy on me. I can handle it.” Hanzo replied. 

Dallas then grinned.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Nice, well, see you guys around, Mrs.Amari still has to show me around!” 

As the man ran off, (Y/N) immediately turned to Jesse.

“Jesse, you need to take a chill pill.”

“I’m completely chill darlin’. Completely.” Jesse snapped through gritted teeth. 

                                               ──•~❉+❉~•──

Things didn’t get much better between Jesse and Dallas.

But they did between Dallas and Hanzo.

Hanzo found a mutual understanding in Dallas.

Dallas, was raised in a crime family as well, with his father being a member of the mafia.

Unlike Hanzo’s father, Dallas’ was just a member, not the leader.

So he understood the expectations.

Alas, Dallas ran away, not wanting to participate in such violent things, and joined overwatch to help, is what Dallas told him anyways.

He found himself having to speak to Dallas by himself, or with (Y/N) around, since Jesse and Dallas never got along.

This led to...a lot of fights between (Y/N) and Jesse, whenever (Y/N) caught Jesse being rude. 

Hanzo sat in the background most of the time when the two fought.

Tempers flared high between the two as of right now, not just because of this new recruit,but  the full moon was tonight.

Which meant Hanzo tried to keep his distance, but again, there was a fight, and he didn’t leave in time.

                                                 ──•~❉+❉~•──

“Jesse what hell were you thinking!” (Y/N) cried as Jesse merely looked at the floor.

“God! Can’t you get your head out of your ass for two seconds and actually try to get along with this guy?”

“He called me an Omega!”

“So what! I get called an Omega too? It isn’t rare, Jesse!”

“He knew that I’d punch him if I said that!”

“He did not Jesse. I bet Dallas is just tired of you being rude to him so he decided to be rude back!”

“Why the hell are you taking his side?”

“I’m not taking anybody’s side Jess’, why would you think I’d do that to you!”

“Then why don’t ya say anythin’!” A pause. “He interrupts me, ignores me, and yet you say nothin’! You’re a goddamn alpha, he’ll listen to you!”

“No he won’t! He’s an alpha too Jess’!”

Jesse let out a groan of frustration.

“And what about Han? Huh, I guess you don’t see him feel ‘im up him do ya?” 

“He’s never done that before!” 

“Yes he has!” Jesse yelled, his voice getting louder. 

Hanzo tensed as the shouting would get louder, and the grip on his book tightened.

Soon, the book slammed shut, causing (Y/N) and Jesse to turn to him.

“Can you two please cease this useless fighting!” Hanzo cried. “It brings us nowhere!”

Silence.

“(Y/N), Jesse isn’t going to like everyone, but Jesse, you must be polite to Dallas, it's unprofessional and he is your team member!” 

“Han-”

“No! You are both acting like children, hell, I can’t sit down and have a meal without you two fighting about this man! He is just a man!”

And that was the last straw.

Hanzo marched past the two enraged werewolves, who were still silent.

“I’m going to meditate, do not bother me.”

And the door shut, and frankly, (Y/N) and Jesse swore the door sounded louder than before.

                                                         ──•~❉+❉~•──

It was always calming in the zen garden.

It was built by request of Genji and Zenyatta.

Hanzo was thankful it was late, Genji and Zenyatta tended to meditate during the day.

So as of right now, he was alone.

The calming atmosphere almost always brought some peace to his mind.

Near the fountain, eyes shut.

However, they snapped open as the leaves brushed next to him. 

He turned, and spotted Dallas coming out of the bushes.

A water bottle in hand.

And a towel wrapped around his neck.

Dallas paused.

“Oh, heya Hanzo, how are you doing?”

“I am fine, you?”

Dallas frowned.

“I know that look,” He said. “Joel and (Y/N) fought again I’m guessing?”

“Is it that obvious?” A pause. “And his name is Jesse.”

Dallas muttered an apology before sitting down, next to Hanzo.

Hanzo fidgeted.

“What...are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was working out with Reinhart and Junkrat, but I got tired and left early,” He said, placing the bottle down. “God, those two have so much stamina.” 

Hanzo shook his head.

“Indeed.”

Silence.

“You...want a sip?”

“What?”

“Of my water.”

“Erm..no thank you.”

“You sure? Dr.Ziegler told me that you tend to meditate for hours, it shouldn’t hurt to drink something small.”

Hanzo thought for a moment, his dragons spoke to him, telling him to go see (Y/N) and Jesse.

He brushed it off and grabbed the water bottle, taking a few gulps.

“See? Isn’t that better?”

Hanzo shook his head.

“I suppose.”

Dallas grinned.

“Doesn’t Winston have some fruit here?”

“This isn’t the greenhouse, Dallas.”

“I know but it doesn’t hurt to look right?”

Hanzo sighed.

“You may look, but I am not.”

“Alright, see ya tomorrow then.”

“Farewell.”

Hanzo shut his eyes yet again.

                                            ──•~❉+❉~•──

After fifteen minutes, Hanzo felt off.

His head was pounding, his arms felt weak.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

When were the lights this bright.

Hanzo stood up-

He wobbled and fell against the fountain, gripping his head. 

His vision was getting more distorted and blurry every time he blinked.

He heard footsteps behind him.

“God, it was easy breaking into this place.” A voice said off in the distance.

“You sure this is the place?”

Hanzo hobbled forward, only to fall to the ground.

“Oh it's the place alright.” He heard Dallas’ voice interrupt.

Through his blurred vision, he saw the faint outline of Dallas, crouching near him.

The corner of his eyes began to turn to black, as he felt himself be lifted from the ground and placed on Dallas’ shoulder.

“Welcome to the Eastern Pack of Spain, Hanzo Shimada.” 

[leftenant-sinani]

Tales from Grudgewill - Love of Our Lord  Chapter 1

For some time now... i was thinking that maybe i should send my newest piece  here. “Love of Our Lord”. Its basically a story about Lord Valnin (Not Uy-Mal Dzerma but Trildyn, because its alternate universe) dealing with his most recent problems like diplomacy, plague or love. The universe ive created is called “Grudgewill”, a fantasy universe based on Elder Scrolls, WarCraft, Dragon Age and perhaps a little on Warhammer Fantasy. I will send details about it later, but for now.. heres this little FanFiction ive made. This is just first chapter, i have second ready and im working on the third one, its going to be a long way. And i want to thank @avengercommander and @witharsenicsauce for inspiring me to do this, for helping me with writing and also for being very good friends, i cannot thank them enough for either. Anyway, i hope you will like it. ;)

Note : Almost all of the Valnin's lovers are characters taken from other games, most importantly Mass Effect : Andromeda and XCOM 2 : War of The Chosen, you can Google them, so you will know how they at least look like, for the Trio of Masters, Google up XCOM 2 Chosen. As for the Valnin himself, just Google up a Dark Elf from Elder Scrolls series, if you want some picture in particular, he would look like this most probably : cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/016/494/335/large/shamine-king-portrait-practice-adana-02-da.jpg?1552379572, Art by Shamine King And i know this is a huge crossover thing, and in my official lore this will not be a thing, but hey, i started this story when i was drunk and i want to finish it, so i don't care anymore. smileyface  Also, please excuse the grammar mistakes, english is not my first language, but i am trying my best.

Chapter I : First Things First

Lord Valnin was in difficult situation right now. He had no idea what to do first. The two other rulers of Icestand required his help with the plague in their regions, half of his army was demoralized because of this undead menace that was coming from the South, and there was also this most difficult choice, he would have to make... to choose one of his loyal companions, who would share their life with him until the very end of all things, despite the sad fact most of them will not live as long as Valnin. The Lord dropped into his  chair, thinking about what to do, but all he wanted, was peace and quiet for at least a day or two. His blood red eyes focused on the rise of sun, its beams already touching Valnin's light blue skin. "Sometimes... I wish I didn't accept Watcher's offer. It surely would be easier than having to rule a kingdom" He said quietly to himself, so no one would hear him. As he continued to watch the dawn, his mind came with an idea after a minute. "First things first, I have to deal with this little love problem. After all, it's the closest problem I have here" He told himself quietly again. But then he frowned a little, as he was thinking about who to take. He couldn't think of who to choose. After all, he loved them all equally. He knew that having six lovers would be a bit crazy, but after all, no one was stopping him from doing so, unless one of them would disagree. "Hmm... It is an insane idea, Valnin, but you know you just cannot choose between them, you would then feel bad for the rest" He said with a bit of a louder tone this time. He then realized it, and stayed quiet for at least ten seconds, hoping that no one heard has him. Silence. He sighed a sigh of relief. He then felt odd, as he realized that he was pretty paranoid about all this. "Being a ruler will kill you one day, Trildyn" He told himself again in quiet tone.

It was a normal day in Third Kindgom of Icestand. Valnin's experts, soldiers and servants were doing their standard routines, and all the work he had was tons of paperwork again. It wasn't really easy for his mental health, since he had a lot of problems of his own, and yet, he still had to deal with things in his own kingdom, in kingdoms of his co-rulers  and also with things from other provinces and most of all, the Emerald Empire. It surely wasn't boring but more like irritating. Doing all the same things all over again despite the fact they should've been done already can be really mind-bothering. It took almost three quarters of the day to get all the formal things done. The Lord was sitting in his throne, his palm on his left cheek, enjoying the peace he finally got for the rest of the day. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about what he should do now that everyday's work has been done. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice of his runner who just got here "Your lordship, i hate to interrupt you, but Lord Arput II and Lord Voltor-Kal requested your presence in three days in Second Kingdom's capital". Valnin's face then shaped into annoyed expression, he sighed "Very well, tell them i'll be there, my servant". The runner bowed, and was on his way again. The Lord shifted in his throne again as he wanted to continue to think, but he couldn't. Something was keeping him from it. He got up, straightening his long black hair and then he thought about that he could visit one of his companions. But who? That was the question...

Captain of the Royal Security, Jaal Ama Darav, was just preparing to get out of his armor and head to his quarters, when suddenly someone knocked on the door. "Stars, what is it now?" He said under his breath. He cleared his throat and said just loudly enough so the person behind the door could hear him "Come in". He then checked his desk if he didn't forget anything while he heard the door open "I sincerely hope this is important. I had a long day, and I want to-" He stopped in the mid of his talk when he looked at the person who just came in. It was Lord Valnin, kindly smiling, his red eyes barely recognizable in the dim lights. "Oh, my Lord, I apologize, I didn't know that it was you" Jaal said with concerned voice. The Lord continued to smile, then he calmly said "Don't be so worried, Jaal. I just wanted to check up on you, my dearest Captain". The Angaran man blushed slightly, making his pink-white cheeks a little bit blue even though it couldn't really be seen in the dark ambience of his large office. "So how was your day, Jaal?" The Lord asked. The Captain slightly hesitated to tell him his honest thoughts, but in the end, he knew that there was something between him and Valnin, at least he felt that way and also the fact that Angara are more open with their feelings than most races made him say it, starting with a sigh "I... had a difficult day, my Lord. The new recruits we've got from the Empire? It is very difficult to work with them. If I would call them uneducated roekaar, it would be an understatement". Valnin felt that Jaal was feeling frustrated, but he couldn't help himself but to ask "Excuse me, but... uneducated what?". Jaal looked at Valnin with his blue almost cat-like eyes "Roekaar. It means stubborn people in free translation". Valnin nodded his head in understanding. "Well, you know what they say, you cannot trust n'wahs, the outlanders" Valnin said. The Captain just slowly nodded in agreement "Indeed, m'lord". Then there was a moment of silence between them, as they couldn't find subject to talk about. The silence has been broken when Jaal asked his Lord "Lord Valnin... I know this might be an inappropriate question, but is there-" He stopped, as he started to hesitate again. He just couldn't straight ask his own Lord if he cares about him as his lover. Valnin raises a brow "Yes?". Jaal looked at him for a second, then nervously looked away as the words were stuck in his throat. The Lord slowly came to him, putting his bare blue hand on Jaal's wide shoulder and while he was looking into his eyes, he said "Jaal, if there is anything on your heart, just tell me. I know it is kind of difficult to talk like that in front of your own ruler, but in the end, we are all just living beings". His words sounded so powerful when he was so close, almost like it was some kind of curse. The Angaran's eyes met with Lord's, returning him the confidence he needed to say it. "I just feel like there is something between us, my Lord. You gave me a few hints in the past, but I didn't think much of it. And recently, you were giving me lots of those odd looks and hints, it almost felt you like me, but in a way of a lover". As Valnin was processing what Jaal said, he just smiled "Tell me then, do you feel something towards me, my loyal subject?". And again, the Captain didn't have a slightest idea of what to say. The eye contact was still going, though. Nervous glare meeting the calm one. Jaal's imagination was going wild of what could happen in next few moments if he would be completely honest with him, alas his Angaran nature wasn't making it easy for him, he couldn't hold it anymore. "My lord... you are the most interesting and also most odd being I have ever known" he said in nervous but still voice as Valnin was smiling at him with his one brow slightly up. "You are an inspiration for me. For your men. For your whole kingdom" He continued with less and less nervousness in his voice. "I also find your race very fascinating. The wonderful scent of your hair. Your smooth blue skin. Your intriguing eyes, they can be both intimidating and pleasant to look at. They are like glittering..." He stopped as he was thinking for few seconds. "...I believe humans call it rubies" He said with sincere smile which revealed his almost-white teeth. The Lord was pleasantly surprised by all those words, his face bright with expression of smile so large, that it almost looked like his mouth was going to rip. "Oh, dearest Jaal, you have no idea how much i am flattered right now. I have to admit, you are very good with words, Captain" Valnin said with that never-ceasing smile. Jaal blushed slightly again, and gave him a warm smile back "Not as good as you are when it comes to politics, your Lordship". They shared their smiles once again, but then Jaal kindly asked "So how is it really, my Lord? Do you feel the same towards me as i do towards you?". The Lord went for it, and kissed Jaal ever so softly on his right cheek which left the Angaran man just standing there wide-eyed. "There's your answer, my dearest Jaal" Valnin said quietly, but loudly enough so Jaal would hear him. The Captain could not find any words to react with. "Good night, Jaal" The Lord said, and before Jaal could wish him back, he was gone. "... Good night, taoshay" Jaal said to himself even though he wanted his Lord to hear it, but who knows, maybe he did, elves have very good ears after all.

[morningsound15]

You say it's hard to come into a new fandom because you're not a "moderately well known" writer there. You say people should leave more comments and kudos. And that's all true. But when was the last time you gave an unknown writer a chance, the last time you left a comment? In my experience the well known/popular writers rarely give anyone who's not well known the time of the day. Looking at your bookmark list, full of the same popular names when it comes to supercorp and clexa, I doubt you do.

this ask made me sad :(

that’s not rlly what i was saying about entering new fandoms I was more being annoying & complaining bc i was feeling whiny, it’s no ones fault except mine that im not deep in any other tumblr fandom communities I knew it wasn’t good analysis just wanted to b annoying for a moment

I’d encourage you to look through my bookmarks tag, bc while ya there are a lot of clexa & supercorp fics because those are my main fandoms for reading (they are also some of the largest f/f fandom fic communities on the internet, so there’s constantly new & amazing content there), but it is full of a bunch of other weird rarepairs and couples from lesser known shows & things that are not very well known

also if i get to the end of a fic & i like it i literally always comment! or at least I try to. i didn’t always used to do that but the more involved I’ve gotten in writing fic the more active I’ve been as a fic consumer. I don’t spend all my time reading fanfic, so it’s harder for me to find unknown gems, which is why I like to put out calls for other ppl to send me fic recs! Bc there are some fandoms I’m not deep in so I end up finding stuff people have already read. ive left comments on hundreds of fics and I follow tons of different writers on here to keep up with their work & posting schedules! idk for sure if this is true I guess, but I think I’ve commented on every fic that’s in that bookmark tag, & I usually add a little note in the bookmark too, & if I revisit a story I try to comment again. Even if it’s just a “still love this” I do that, so would love for the accusations & assumptions to cease lol

(also it isn’t like a bad thing to like work that other people also like — sometimes there’s a story that’s so good you have to bookmark it.)

My bookmark page is not representative of the amount of fic I read / kudos / comment on / enjoy! I don’t bookmark every fic I read & like, only WIPs I want to follow & things that really impacted me & blew me away, or things that gave me joy & I want to revisit some day. U cannot judge my fandom behavior on my bookmarks list alone (also those fics are all bangers so no h8 to those authors pls I literally love them). I try to have good fandom etiquette because that’s what I hope my readers would do too! idk if you’ve been following me for a while but I am pretty liberal about sharing fic recs & fanart on my own blog, like if I see creator work I like I always try to reshare. I don’t have very many followers but I don’t think that matters too much

sry obv I’m not perfect & don’t expect anyone else to b perfect so im sry if that’s how my words came across but it rlly is something fandom has lost since the boom of tumblr & fandom. idk sometimes I get comments or messages from ppl being like “I’ve read x y z stories of yours and I finally just had to comment” or “I’ve been reading fic for 5 years and have never commented before” and it’s like thank u! But also pls comment on other people’s stuff! Spread fandom love!

anyway sorry for the rant anon, I hope u have a nice day

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty, “Close Calls”

All chapters can be found here! 

Inspiration tag for the story! 

I recently completed a character survey from Becky’s POV that you should check out! 

Warning! This story contains mentions of: cancer, vomiting, chemotherapy process, and brief mentions of blood.

                                       Sneaky peeeeeeeek!

I want to tell him, but I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to put into words that I’m breaking more and more every day. The paradox of being happy and sad that I’m here with my dad for his next round of chemotherapy. And I sure as hell don’t know how to put into words to Harry that his one in a million hugs could fix everything, if only for a little bit.

But I can’t, and I don’t try to put the feelings into words. I sit there and cry inside of my car until I can’t anymore. And until I find enough strength to sit up and leave, knowing that I won’t call him back.

Snowflakes flutter in front of my eyes, painting the world white. Cars zoom past on the streets down below, the size of my fingernail. Yeah, it sure looks like the first of February out there, the thought sounds inside of me. The festivities of Christmas are long over as a new year has begun. Thinking of what comes next leads to a disorganized mess behind my eyes. I try to rid my thoughts of it with a hard blink, but instead it brings something else forth. 

February 1st. 

It’s Harry’s birthday today. 

He’s 29. Shit. 

Flipping my phone over in my lap, my thumbs get working fast. But once that empty conversation is in front of my eyes, I stall. Before I chicken out, words appear on the screen quickly. 

I read them over and wonder how they sound. Or, more like, how they would sound to him. Do they sound too personal? Do they not sound personal enough? Or am I worrying too much and it’ll just blend into all of the other birthday texts he’s sure to receive? 

“I think if you stare at that thing any harder your eyes are gonna pop out of your skull, Ree.”

I raise my head to find the voice who said that. My dad. He smiles tiredly at me a few steps away. I laugh, realizing he’s right. 

“What’s got your attention so peaked anyways?” he asks. His eyes framed with exhaustion stay for only a second. They return to the Arsenal football match playing on the telly. 

“Um, just trying to write a text to somebody. But I don’t know if it’s good enough.”

“Don’t think about it so much, sweetie. I mean it, you’re probably thinking too hard about it,” he comments, scratching at the blue wool hat covering his head.

Sometimes I still expect to see the IV tubing dangling from his skinny arm. Like all of the other times at the beginning. Patches of faded red cover the insides of his arms from them now. You wouldn’t notice their small marks, but I know they’re there. The seconds of relief from their absence is whisked away when he tugs at his shirt. The moving of the material reveals the tubing leading to the port in his chest. The one I forget has been there for months when his shirt covers it. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” I tell him, and go ahead and hit Send. 

Hi. I’ve been thinking of you. I hope you’re doing alright. Just remembered it was your birthday. Wow 29, huh? Damn you really are getting old, you geezer. You better hurry and claim your senior discount now. No, but really I hope you’re having a good day, Harry. Enjoy your day. Have some drinks and do something for yourself, something you enjoy. I hope 29 is a fantastic year for you. Hopefully you’re not as run down yet as Chandler is. 

I tap Send again, watching the clip from F.R.I.E.N.D.S go with the text marked by a heart. A smile pulls up my cheeks, thinking of the scene. 

The three guys are sitting on the sofa in Central Perk and Chandler talks about not being 21 anymore. He’s 29 now and just wants to relax and go to bed at his bedtime, according to him.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” my dad comments, bringing my eyes back to him. A small smile pinches his sallow cheeks. I nod, thinking of those words, but in a different way. If only that could be said about everything.

Setting my phone down, I try to watch the match with him. I’m glad it’s taking his mind off of the poison coursing through his veins. But I’m distracted by the anxious excitement of waiting to hear a ding from my phone. 

Point after point is scored and it doesn’t come. And I try not to be disappointed, but I think I’m getting rather good at being disappointed lately.

+

The last words of a Katy Perry song trickle from the speakers as I put the car in park. A soft glow pours out the living room window, waiting for me. 

6:13 pm, the digital clock reads. 

I let my head fall back to the head rest. The events of today and their emotions flood my thoughts. As well as the things I still need to do tonight. Bring in the groceries. Put them away. Make dinner, even though he’ll eat 5 bites that he’ll throw up. Sweep and mop the kitchen. Disinfect surfaces. Find time to vacuum when he isn’t sleeping. Change his bedsheets. Do la-

Brrrrrrrrrrring!

Brrrrrrrrrrring!

The incessant words forming inside of my head cease. Looking over to the passenger seat, my phone buzzes face down. I pick up and answer it without looking. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Becks,” a refreshing voice answers. It almost removes the heavy words inside of me, but not quite. 

“Hi, Harry. How was your birthday?” I answer, peering down at my lap. 

“It was pretty fantastic, thank you. ‘m sorry I didn’ get t’ yer text yestaday. Tha’s why ‘m callin’, an’ ‘cause I got yer gift. I love it, it was so nice o’ you! I don’ have this Fleetwood record yet, so thank ya very much. ‘s in incredible condition, too! Hope ya didn’ have t’ pay too much. I know how pricey original records can be,” his syrupy voice utters with extra sugar today. It fills me with comfort, but he also picked the worst time to call. Although, maybe it would help to get out of my head for a few minutes. If I can.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it. I uh, wasn’t sure if you had it or not,” I reply slowly, unsure of what to say. I find it hard trying to pick out words from my head as so many others are whirring around. Playing with the zipper on my coat, I wait for his reply. 

“I can’ wait t’ listen t’ it. There’s not a scratch on it, ‘s unbelievable. I got sum drinks with sum mates last night afta work, so tha’s why I forgot t’ text back. Had lots o’ fun tho’, an’ ate sum good food,” he narrates for me in an animated voice.

I nod at his words, wishing that would suffice. But I have to talk, even though yesterday I would’ve jumped at the chance to hear his voice. Well, I still would today. Just minus the jumping part. 

“Good,” is all I say, amidst the lump building in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe. But it doesn’t help, it never does. “I’m glad you had a good time,” I somehow manage. Cursing myself, I know he heard my voice crack at the end. Because so did I.

“Becks-.”

“I’m glad you had a good birthday with friends. It did sound fun. Um I’m sorry, but can I call you back? I was just going to run into a shop quick,” I cut him off, the lie knitting together fast. 

“Ya sure, an’ thanks. ‘ll talk t’ ya later, Becks. Drive safe,” he replies, something amiss in his voice. But I can’t listen any further than that, or else the guilt will make the tears come sooner. 

“Thanks, Harry. I will, and happy birthday,” I finish, not giving him a chance to reply before I hang up. 

Because the tears already arrived at my last word. And he sounded so happy, and I couldn’t ruin it. Over the course of the few texts we’ve sent back and forth in the last month, it was the happiest he’s sounded. And I didn’t want to share my dark cloud, and reveal that I’m in the lowest of my lows. Another side of me selfishly wanted him to notice, almost begged him to. And that part is disappointed that he didn’t, but the other part knows that I can’t expect that. Or at least it tries to. 

It’s going to take everything inside of me. To lift my head from the steering wheel and walk back into that house. And to do yesterday and the day before, all over again. Dole out the meds and write them down. Clean up the vomit. Cook the meals. Clean and clean. Endure watching the pain and suffering I can’t do a damned thing about. And on top of it all, try to deal with my own pain and suffering. Not to forget, the schoolwork. 

I want to tell him, but I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to put into words that I’m breaking more and more every day. Or the paradox of being happy and sad that I’m here with my dad for his next round of chemotherapy. And I sure as hell don’t know how to put into words to Harry that his one in a million hugs could fix everything, if only for a little bit. 

But I can’t, and I don’t try to put the feelings into words. I sit there and cry inside of my car until I can’t anymore. And until I find enough strength to sit up and leave, knowing that I won’t call him back. 

+

“Hey, Becky. Could you do me a favor, love?” 

The pictures of puppies I was looking at suddenly feels illegal. Closing my laptop, I look up and find Sophie standing in front of me. I still think for a split second that she’s the mom from The Princess Diaries when I look at her, even after a year of working here. 

“Y-yeah yeah. What do you need, Sophie?” I ask, trying to sit up straight, for once.

“Could you run this down to the post room for me, please? I need it sent out today, and I have a video conference in a minute. I’d wait on it, but I know they pickup the post in about 20. I won’t make it since my video conference is an hour long,” she says, her lips lined in scarlet grimacing. She tugs at the end of her corkscrew brown curls, a nervous habit of hers. “I hate to be one of those bosses that makes you do stupid stuff, but-.”

“Don’t mention it, Soph. A little walk would be nice, anyways,” I insist, taking the large white envelope from her. She thanks me with a smile and a handful of ‘thank yous’ before leaving. 

Standing up, I feel my joints wake back up with a few cracks. I smooth down my maroon blouse over my black dress pants. A shiver tickles my spine, and I decide to slide on my zip up black Columbia. The last thing I do before leaving is to grab my steel water bottle to fill up. 

“Be right back,” I let the girls know at the front desk. They nod with a smile before resuming their hushed conversation. 

My pointed flats hardly make a noise on the tiled floor. It’s hard to look for a noise with the wind whipping around the snow outside. Just looking out the windows lining the hallway makes me feel cold, colder than it should be in March. And regret choosing these shoes this morning. I reach a corner and take a left, thinking back to when I first started and always got lost. I pass a handful of people on my way, familiar and not, and we exchange smiles or nods. I pass the doors for Human Resources, and wave at a friend. A gruff bailiff passes without either, but he was a little too scary looking to make eye contact with anyways. 

I reach another corner, knowing the post room is only two turns away now. I take a right, but a few steps in, I hear voices. And laughing. My feet stop at the sound, and I turn around. The large doors to Courtroom 5 are down the hallway behind me. A clump of people stand across them talking, leaning against the wall under a clock. One of the laughs stands out to me from the others, like a musician can recognize a note. I can only see the backs of heads of those facing away from me. They shield the others from my view. My head goes from side to side with dismissal as I turn back around. But I don’t get very far, because I hear something they say. 

A name. 

It’s like it takes control of my limbs, and again I’m spinning around. I make it just in time to watch a figure break away from the group. Smiling and shaking hands, a laugh tickling their lips. And walk over to the drinking fountain. It’s Rose, one of the lawyers from Harry’s firm. Hmm, I think silently before walking away for real this time. 

I soon find another water fountain and I decide to fill up. Luckily almost all of the ones I come across here have the nifty water bottle attachment. It was always a pain any place I’d go trying to fill it up directly from the spout. With the thick envelope under my arm, I screw the cap back on. Slipping my finger through the little handle at the top, I take off. But once again, I don’t get very far. Because this time I almost run into somebody. 

“Sorry,” I automatically say before even taking a look at the person. But I don’t need to look when their voice tells me what I’m looking for. 

“‘s alr- Wait, ‘s that you, Becks? Well hi, love,” Harry coos, his words catching. 

“What, I don’t get an ‘it’s alright’ just because I’m not a stranger?” I joke, looking into his brilliant green eyes. 

The skin around his eyes crinkles as amusement paints his face. Nodding, his growing curls dance a little on his head. “Yeah, I guess ‘s alright ya almost plowed me ova,” he jokes, his straight white teeth showing behind his happy lips. 

Scratching at the back of his neck, his navy blazer pulls to the side. I see more of the cream button down underneath decorated with small navy polka dots. 

“Hey, I could say the same thing about you,” I argue, trying to calm the happiness budding on my lips. But my control doesn’t last very long. 

Harry replies with a breathy laugh, dropping his hand. “Oh hush, you. Now, what’re ya doin’ here, love? I hope yer not here fer a hearing,” he asks, swinging the leather messenger bag to his side. Probably heavy from his files and laptop, from the look of its bulging seams. 

“I uh, work here,” I tell him slowly, my words escaping me. My fingers wrap around and lift the sleek card resting on my chest. 

His moss green eyes fall to the lanyard hanging around my neck holding the access card bearing my face and name. I receive my answer when his expressive eyebrows shoot to the sky in surprise. “Here? Really, doin’ wha’?” he questions.

“Um, I do some clerk stuff back in admin,” I reply, watching his expression relax into a content smile. 

“Tha’s great, Becks. That’ll look really good on yer resume when ya graduate. Good fer you, ‘m proud o’ you, darlin’,” he comments, patting my arm. I hardly know what to say with everything jumping around in my head all of a sudden. The arm pat. The beaming pride coating his features. The part where he said he’s proud of me, for the second time now. Okay, chill out, Becky. You can’t lose it, not yet. “An’ ya like it here? Are ya learnin’ more ‘bout law?”

“Yeah, I really like it. I work with a small group of people, and we get along really well. I mean there’s always that one coworker you don’t like, but what can you do?” I try to laugh, but I’m afraid it sounds fake. It’s okay though, because his laugh covers the doubt I hear in mine. And the nerves. “And I am learning, too. My boss is really great and I think she uses me being in law school to her advantage. It’s a match made in heaven, I guess.”

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that. ‘m happy t’ hear well, that yer happy,” Harry tells me with a smile framing his words. But when I look at it a second too long, I see the sadness in it. Suddenly, I regret my words, and how they sounded like he wasn’t a good boss. Or that I didn’t like it at his firm. But he doesn’t let me get too far into my thoughts, luckily. “How’s yer dad doin’? I haven’t heard from ya lately, but I undastand yer prolly real busy.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I apologize, looking away with warming cheeks. But his automatic ‘’s okay’ and squeeze to my arm makes me look back at him. “Things have been pretty crazy with classes and being there for my dad. He started chemo again the beginning of last month, since they didn’t get all of the tumor, like they hoped they would. But I guess most people still do it to ensure it’s gone, or something like that. I can’t remember.”

“Stop, ‘s okay,” he says firmly, his eyebrows raising a tick. “How’s he handlin’ tha chemo? ‘ve heard that stuff’s pretty shitty.”

“Yeah, it is. It makes him really sick. It’s hard because sometimes he has to wait to do an infusion of it, because some levels of his are too low. Or they want him to be at a certain weight, even though the chemo makes him lose weight,” I explain, the words coming out effortlessly. “It’s hard to see him like this, and to still be a student and an employee during all of it. But my professors and boss have been really understanding and lenient.”

I bite back the tears, hoping they won’t fall without my permission. But one breaks loose from the gate as I stare at the floor. My flats are separated from his brown leather chelsea boots. Then after a blink they no longer are. I don’t make the decision to look up, but it’s made for me when I feel his thumb wiping the tear away. Peering into his gleaming green eyes always seems to make time stop. A warm smile places dimples in his cheeks, and does something to me. Like it always does. 

“‘s okay. I can’t imagine how hard ‘s been fer ya, Becks. Why didn’ ya ring me? I woulda listened,” Harry asks me, his hand regretfully belonging to himself again. But there isn’t annoyance or anger in his voice. There’s emotions from the other side of the spectrum heard there. Like regret and sadness, and others I can’t fathom right this second. 

“I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. Plus, I hate to be a Debbie Downer,” I confess, admiring the length of his dark eyelashes when they tickle his skin. 

“Yer notta Debbie Downa, Becks, whateva tha bloody hell that ‘s,” he insists. A hint of his giggle meets my ears when I look at him weird due to that revelation. “Ya can call me anytime, ‘kay? Whether ‘s happy or sad, ‘d wanna hear ‘bout it.”

I nod at his words, savoring the sound of his voice. And what it said. His minty breath strokes my cheek as he’s close enough to touch. The words get lost in my throat as his familiar smell wafts over me, catching me off guard. “Thank you,” I mumble thoughtfully, seeing his head move in answer. 

“What’re ya takin’ this semesta fer yer LLB tha’s so tough? I mean, I know all tha courses can be, but ‘m curious. Ya must be onto tha heavier courses by now, ‘s that right?” 

“Well, I’m still catching up to where I should be as a kind of sophomore. Because they changed the degree around since I’ve been gone, so that’s kinda why I took Crim later than usual. But right now I’m taking Banking Law, Family Law, and Environmental Law,” I answer, watching my words register with him. He nods at certain parts, his brow knitted together as he pays attention to me, like there’s nobody else in the entire room. 

“Ugh, those don’ sound any fun. I rememba takin’ those, or what were tha equivalent t’ ‘em when I was in uni. They’re tha ratha borin’ ones, an’ Family’s sad, too,” he comments, a look of disgust playing with his features. It’s amusing, but I get away with not letting it show on my face. Reaching to scratch his chin, I notice the stubble there. And the pops of color on his fingernails. Both fitting, I must say.

“Yeah they’re super boring. I’m surprised you even remember them, seeing as you’re 29 and everything,” I joke, earning a well deserved eye roll from him. But he can’t get rid of the grin showing on his raspberry lips. “Hey, I like your nails. It looks like you did a pretty good job, better than I could even,” I laugh and it grows harder when he holds them out for me to see. A wine red and turquoise blue decorate his fingers. But what gets me is that he puckers his lips, modeling like Zoolander. 

“Thanks,” Harry titters, looking down at them. “Me little niece picked out tha colors an’ helped me paint ‘em tha otha night. But I think they’re growin’ on me. Already chippin’ tho they are, whatta shame.”

You let your niece paint your nails? 

Wait, you’re an uncle? 

Okay, the thought of you with tiny children is not helping things. 

“You sound like a fun uncle.”

“Ya, I hope so. Harper says I am anyways, which ‘s quite tha compliment. Also, stop callin’ me old. 29 isn’t old,” Harry whines, sticking his bottom lip out at me. 

“Oh stop it, you baby,” I giggle, and soon his joins mine. For a couple of seconds, we’re just looking at each other laughing and things couldn’t be better. But I’ve learned that good things can never last, and soon enough we’re interrupted by a voice. 

“Harry, are you coming?” Rose says from across the hallway, a ‘hello’ to me following. The sweet sound coming from his lips soon fades as he looks over to her and nods. Pushing his sleeve back to look at his watch, he clucks his tongue. 

“‘m afraid I can’ talk any longa, Becks. ‘m sorry. Rose an’ I are workin’ togetha onna case. It starts in half an hour, an’ we gotta go ova sum things befo’ it all starts,” he explains regretfully. I nod, acknowledging his words. And try as I might, I can’t get rid of the disappointment growing heavy in my gut. 

“Yeah o-of course, don’t let me keep you. Good luck, Harry, knock ‘em dead,” I wish him with a small, but sad, smile. 

A hint of one inches up his cheeks before he says, “Yer not keepin’ me, I dunno why ya always say that. I enjoy talkin’ t’ ya. ‘s nice t’ catch up again,” Harry tells me. As if in slow motion, I watch him take another step closer to me with outstretched arms. I follow suit and soon find myself in one of his hugs. “Ya ring me if ya need anythin’, ya hear me? Even just t’ talk. Maybe we could get coffee or tacos sumtime.”

The moment in his arms doesn’t last long enough, although I’m sure any amount of time wouldn’t be enough for me. Soon, I’m leaving the safety of his arms and again, I’m alone. “Of course. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome. Tell yer dad an’ Robbie ‘m thinkin’ of ‘em,” Harry rasps, and I just nod. “An’ take care, Becks. Good luck in yer courses, I know ya’ll do well.”

Happiness seeps through the sudden sadness with his kindness, and I muster a smile. And another thank you. 

“Have a good day, love,” is the last thing he says, before he turns to walk towards Rose who waits for him. 

“You too,” I mumble, watching him walk away. 

Bittersweetness lines my thoughts, wondering if the sadness is worth getting to see him. And that hug. God, that fucking hug. They do fix everything that’s wrong, if only for a couple of seconds. It makes me wonder how much happier I’d be if I could have one of those every day, as a respite from the chaos of life. But that would only be in the case of if I was his-. 

Yeah, I’m not going there again, I tell myself. And with that, I finally continue my journey to the post room, unsure of how I’ll be able to top that. 

For the rest of day. 

Week. 

Maybe even, month. 

+

The butter melts on my tongue and next the pillowy bread does too. I close my eyes and smile at the taste. Like home. Opening them again, my eyes flit over the half dozen crock pots and several other plates. Frowning, I can’t stop thinking about the meatballs, the macaroni and cheese, the sugar cookie fruit pizza, and the homemade bread. 

But with a longing sigh, I walk away and leave the break room. Excited coworkers of mine pass me on the way to the food. My desk eyes me from across the room, but I ignore it. Soon, I find myself in the hallway. Twenty minutes left of my break after scarfing down the monthly potluck meal. It only gets better each month, and makes me wish it was weekly. The last bite of airy bread passes my lips. I wipe my hands on the napkin and toss it in a bin. The new storm delivers snow outside of the hallway-long windows. Although they’re frosted from the chill, I can still just make out the falling flakes. 

My thoughts of snow are whisked away by the shuffling of feet. And hurried voices. It takes me a moment to figure out where I’ve gone off too. Soon, I realize I’m back by Courtroom 5. And that the people are bustling inside the doors to sit in the gallery. And watch. The sleeve of my zip up glides over my watch, revealing the time to be one o’clock. Quickly, thoughts come together like puzzle pieces in my head. 

My break is over at 1:30. 

It’s Friday, so it’s not like I really have anything important to do when I get back. 

Sophie has been bothering me for ages to go and learn from the teachers I have just down the hall. 

So she won’t mind. 

And the only teacher that I can think I want to learn from is in there right now. 

About to argue a case that appears to be available to the public. 

I don’t remember telling my feet to move, but suddenly I’m behind an older man. And the scene in front of me changes drastically. It fills me with nervous excitement at the sight of the judicial panel, the jury box, and the witness stand. But I don’t have time to gawk, because the chatter around me is quieting down. I quickly find a seat towards the back of the seating in the gallery. 

Silence follows the clanging of the doors shutting. Within a few seconds, everybody rises when the judge enters. But the rest of the room - the jury made up of all kinds of faces, the bailiff, court reporter etc. - melt away when I see that head of curly hair. I’d know it was him if we were in a crowd of people, but any doubt I had from afar is washed away when he speaks. 

Harry and Rose take turns delivering their opening statement. They’re defending their client, the plaintiff, who from the sounds of it, was harassed by the defendant. It kills me to watch the opening statements unfold, even if all I can see is the back of the girl’s head. The hush over the courtroom is chilling, and goosebumps grow on my arms at the sound of Harry’s tone. His professional voice that I’ve yet to really hear before. Because although I worked for him, I was only his assistant. I never got to tag along to trials, or hear much about them. Yes, I did some of the dirty work for them, but I only saw the outside. I heard about how good or bad it was going, and then was dealt with the good news or bad news of the verdict. No more than that. 

It’s awe inspiring to witness him arguing the case firsthand. The way he uses his hands to speak, or the times when his voice does all the speaking he needs to. His eloquent choice of words drills the emotion home, and is accented by the expression on his face. It’s often neutral, but at times, I watch him struggle to hide the effects of the words playing on his face. I find myself having a hard time doing the same when he returns to sit next to the plaintiff, patting her on the back during difficult moments. Unbeknownst to me, the defending lawyer may have been practicing for two years or twenty. But their skill wanes next to Harry’s, even though he’s been practicing for less than ten years. I can’t stand to watch the discrepancies and weaknesses in his arguments. Luckily, my break is over and I don’t care to waste my time watching Mr. Bow Tie over here. 

I quietly leave a few minutes into his opening statement, hoping one day I can evoke as much emotion as Harry with my words. And hide from my face all of the ones that I’m feeling inside. Walking back to my department, a smile curls the edges of my lips. But then it falls, because I realize the mistake I made. 

I just fell a little bit harder. Again. 

+

“I’m gonna bring the dishes down,” I mumble, watching him nod at me. 

The wooden steps creak with my weight as I juggle the tray of barely touched food. A bowl of chicken noodle soup. A piece of toast. And apple slices with peanut butter. 

Options, options, options. 

The plastic tray hits the counter with a hard slap, and an accentuated huff. I bend down and grab tupperware from the drawers. As I pour the soup into a container, the slam of a door upstairs makes me jump. My thoughts fly to the soup spilled all over the counter, but they stop when I hear another noise. Besides the tv in the living room, it’s the only other one I hear. It pulls my feet out of the kitchen and through the living room until I’m at the stairs. I take the steps two at a time until I’m at the top. The terrible sound carries down the hallway, leading me to the bathroom door. 

I nervously rap my knuckles against the door. 

“I’m fine,” my dad says from the other side, coughing. 

“Dad, they said if it gets bad-.”

“It’s not bad yet,” he interrupts. There’s a pause when he blows his nose. “Please, Ree, I just want to be home. I hate having to go there.”

“I know, dad,” I reply, sighing when I hear him start to vomit again. 

Walking away, I give him privacy. And my ears a break from one of my newest least favorite sounds. My fingers drift to my back pocket, sure of their actions before I am. Exhaling, I take a seat on one of the stairs.  

It rings and it rings. 

“Come on, pick up,” I mutter, bouncing my leg. 

Kneading my temple, I listen to it continue to ring. And ring. Finally, it stops. But I’m not greeted by the sound I want to hear. Instead I hear their voicemail, making me groan. I listen to the old recording I’ve heard time and time again, but this time I just want it to go away. So I can hear the instructions, and that final beep.

“Hey, it’s me. J-just call me back when you get this, please,” I say quickly, the words running from my lips. Alongside the tears. 

Dropping my phone onto my lap face down, my head falls in my hands. Noises surround me. Those of everyday life bustling around me. The sound of the laundry machine whirring downstairs. The hum of the tv. And the ones I try to ignore coming from the door behind me. The sound of the crying. And the vomiting. 

I can’t keep my hands still. They go to rake through my hair. To cover my face. To play with my fingers. To make fists. I even try to sit on them, and it doesn’t help. And I can’t stop bouncing my legs, as my nerves jitter from the thoughts.

 The worries.

The uncertainty. 

It feels like an hour before I hear my twinkling ringtone. But when I see the time on my phone, it’s only been eleven minutes. I barely take the time to look at who’s calling before I answer it. 

Clearing my throat, I say a shaky ‘hello.’

“Hey, I got yer message. ‘m sorry I didn’ answer, I was inna late meetin’, but I can talk now. ‘s everythin’ okay, Becks? Ya don’ sound so good, love,” he inquires. His caramely voice is the first comfort I’ve felt all day. My respite from this mayhem. 

“No, I’’ll um, let you go. I don’t want to interrupt your meeting. I can call later,” I insist, guilt weaving its way into my words. 

“No, yer okay, Becks. I stepped out. It wasn’t anythin’ important, anyways. I can have Myles tell me later. Now, wha’s goin’ on?” he tells me, but it doesn’t revoke all of the guilt consuming me. I grimace at the pain from my chapped lips when they smash together, salty tears flowing over their cracks. “Becks, talk t’ me, please. Yer not a botha, not ever. Please tell me wha’s wrong.”

“Harry,” I begin, not capable of any other words. Because that one has been constant in my head for the last twenty minutes. Ever since it started. It’s the one I’ve been holding in, and not been able to say, until now. 

“‘m here, Becks,” he says. Never did I think three words could be so comforting. And at the same time, hurt so much. Because they’re true, and then they’re not. I want them to be true so badly I feel it in my veins. 

“M-my dad . . . he won’t stop throwing up and I don’t know what to do. He had chemo yesterday, b-but it went fine. And then we had dinner tonight, and he hardly had three bites, before he got sick. It’s been like that all day,” I confess, leaning against the staircase railing. Letting it hold me there, because nobody else can. Because I can’t do it for myself anymore. “This happens sometimes with the chemo, b-but . . . . . it was getting better recently. I think I should bring him in like they said, but that means staying the night in the hospital. Again. I’m just so tired, Harry, I want all of this to be over already. I want him to be okay, and I want to feel what it’s like to be okay again.” I can’t get out another word, because the tears consume them. And the anxiety. And the exhaustion. My head falls to my knees and the hand cupping my mouth slides away. 

“I think ya should bring ‘im in, Becks. ‘Specially if they said so. Don’ want ‘im t’ get dehydrated, that certainly won’ help things,” Harry murmurs, his voice quiet and controlled. “I know ya don’ wanna be there ‘gain, ‘specially twice in tha last two days. But he needs their help . . ‘s there anybody who can come an’ be with you? Maybe that aunt o’ yers who was at tha hospital that night? Robbie, or Skye? But I s’pose they’re 3 hours away in London . . . ,” Harry sighs, his words trailing off into the air. For some reason I nod, glad to hear that my reasoning for not wanting to ask them to come is valid. 

“Yeah, it’s just me here. That’s how it’s been. Robbie and I switch off . . . But my dad doesn’t want me to bring him in, he hates going there. Being poked by them and everything. But he hasn’t been able to keep anything down all day,” I cry, the tears soaking the knees of my ripped jeans. 

“Ya hafta bring ‘im in, Becks. What if ‘s sumthin’ else, like tha stomach flu or sumthin’ worse? He needs t’ be able t’ eat an’ drink in order t’ get betta,” he urges, and finally I decide to listen. 

Nodding at his words and the truth they hold, my lips part, “I know, you’re right. I-I’ll bring him in. T-thanks, Harry, for answering your phone.”

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I sit up slowly. “Course, Becks. ‘m sorry I was a li’l busy when ya first rang . . . Um drive safe, ‘kay? Maybe bring yer laptop t’ do schoolwork or even jus’ t’ watch Netflix. Sumthin’ t’ distract yerself - a book, or headphones fer music.” His suggestions meet my ears, but they go through one and out the other. They’re not the kind of distraction I want, I think selfishly, but the kind I want, I can’t have. Because it’s you. 

“Yeah, I’ll bring something. Thanks, Harry. Have a good night,” I say in almost a whisper, exhaustion stealing my words. 

“Yer welcome, Becks. Lemme know what happens, ‘kay?”

I mutter an ‘mmmmhmm’ before hanging up, and trudging up the stairs. Listening for the sound again is hard, because I don’t know what I want to hear. Part of me doesn’t want to hear the vomiting, but the other part oddly does. Because if it stopped then he’ll try to convince me that we don’t have to go in. But I hope it hasn’t, because there’s something at the back of my head telling me we have to. Making me think we need to, because something’s wrong. And I know that if he’s stopped, he’ll tell me that there’s no reason to go in. 

My gray striped socks stop on the hardwood floor in front of the door. I knock before I can convince myself to wait. “Dad?” 

No answer. 

“Dad, I’m bringing you to the hospital. Something’s not right, I just know it. You need to be looked at, and they can help,” I plead from the other side of the slab of wood. A sigh meets my ears and the shuffling of a body. 

“Okay,” he relents. I push the door open and am met with his tear-stained face. 

Trying to ignore the smell I’m by now used to, I wet a washcloth at the sink. Returning to his side, I bend down and wipe his face with it. And then his mouth. Tossing it in the laundry bin, I wash my hands. Watching him as I do so, his frail figure is slumped against the closed toilet. Embarrassment blanketing him like a sheet. 

“It’ll be okay,” I try to tell him. But as I watch his barely there nod, I’m not sure if I believe it either. “Let’s get you downstairs to the car,” I say, drying my hands. 

It takes us awhile, to stand up together. To get down the stairs, one step at a time. To slip on his coat. To grab my things. And to drive to the hospital as he threw up into a bucket beside me. But we got there, and the worst part still awaits us. 

It pains me to leave his side, but I can’t handle watching them stick him with needles. Or the blood. Not after everything that’s happened in the last 7 months. Combing my hair out of my eyes, I begin my walk down the hallway. Yet another one. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey,” I respond to the voice I could pick out of a crowd. I try to prepare my words, but I’m not sure what to say. I’m so tired. “I’m at the hospital with dad. Everything is okay. But he hasn’t been able to keep anything down all day, he’s been throwing up off and on. And after dinner, it got worse. They’re taking some blood now to run it for labs. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“Shitttt,” Robbie replies, holding out the last syllable. Just like our dad. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Ree. I’m surprised he let you take him in, but thanks for doing that. Yeah, I guess all you can do is wait until they have the tests back. Hopefully you two can go home soon,” he says quietly in a tone the polar opposite of the one he answered with. 

I echo his words with a ‘me too’ before there’s nothing else to be said. And I let him go. I call Skye too to tell her, and because I can’t go back yet. I just need some time. She talks my ear off, but I’m grateful for it. She tells me about work, her newest boyfriend, the weather, and a show we’re watching together. 

After I finally get away from her jabber mouth, almost half an hour has passed. I find my way back to his room in the Emergency wing. As I walk in, he shoots a tired smile at me. One I can barely make out amongst the dark room. 

“Early bedtime?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He nods, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

“Yeah. They did all their tests, and said it would take a little while, so fluids, anti-nausea meds, and naptime it is.”

“Good,” I respond, wrapping my fingers around his. Squeezing them, his dusty lips offer a laugh. Or the closest thing to one. He tries to squeeze back, but I barely feel it. It’s nothing compared to when he’d nearly break my fingers giving my hand a squeeze. Somehow his hands look older than the rest of him as I look. His skin wrinkles among his bulging veins, liver spots, and freckles. 

“You should too, baby girl,” he replies, surprising me. My eyes return to his face where he’s opened his eyes to look at me. “You look exhausted too. Get some sleep, I know it’s been a lot taking care of me for this long.”

“Dad,” I begin, an argument forming in my voice. But I don’t get any further than that.

“You know it’s true, and you’ve been doing a fantastic job. Don’t let yourself think any different,” he insists, the area above his eyes raising. But it doesn’t have the same effect with his dark eyebrows absent from his expression. A whimper escapes my lips as tears obscure my vision. Lifting our joined hands, he brushes the back of his hand over my cheek. “Come here, my baby.”

It confuses me when his clean scent doesn’t surround me. But it’s there in a hint when I bury my face into his neck. His right arm pulls me against him, and I cry into him. It’s one of the only times I can remember doing this since this all started. I want to stay strong in front of him, but sometimes it’s too hard. I feel a warmth on my forehead, and my lips break into a smile at his trademark forehead kiss. “Get some sleep, sweetie. They’ll wake us with the results if they need to,” he tells me. I nod into him, feeling him scooch over for me to lay more comfortably beside him. 

+

My words are taken away with a whooshing sound just as a ding meets my ears. A bubble appears at the top of my phone screen. With widening eyes, I hold down the bottom button for volume on the side of my phone. Peeking across the room, I exhale watching his chest lift and fall with every breath, his snoring greeting the air. My attention returns to the dings coming from my phone. I read the first one. 

Me - a few minutes ago

Tests came back positive for some type of bacterial infection in his digestive tract. Starting antibiotics now. Keeping him overnight and until further notice for observation because infections can be scary with weak immune systems like his.  

Harry

thx for the update. glad 2 hear it isnt anything 2 serious. its a good thing u brought him in when u did becks. thinking of u and him. 

Me

Thanks so much, Harry. I’m glad I did too. Looks like I’m sleeping on the couch again, yay!

Harry

get some zzzz’s love. might be a long nite. dont forget 2 eat. 

Me

Goodnight 

+

My eyes don’t want to believe the clock when the growling of my stomach wakes me. Shuffling into the hallway rubbing my eyes, I swear under my breath. 

“No fucking way it’s only 11 o’clock. Why can’t it be 8 am or something?” I groan, trudging down the quiet halls of the oncology wing. But I’m glad for the quiet compared to the craziness of the E.R. earlier. 

Dropping my hand, I’m welcomed once again by the stinging fluorescent lights. And the packaged foods waiting for me behind the glass. Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I scan the many choices. Hmmm, salted nut roll for once, hostess cakes, sour patch kids, hard pretzels, jelly beans, or Cheez-Its? I wonder to myself, blinking the sleep from my eyes. 

Another ding meets my ears. But when I lift my phone to my face, there isn’t a new text popping up on my screen. There are some, but they’re from an hour ago or longer. Weird, I think, staring at the screen and reading the words. 

There’s a cough as somebody clears their throat. “We’ve gotta stop meetin’ like dis,” they almost laugh, making me turn my head without a choice. 

[amusedyan]

Mother of Legacies

So this was a collab between @hearteyes-candyskies and me! We worked out the plot together and she was kind enough to give me a list of yandere Greek myths for inspiration. We hashed out a lot of this and she was so helpful in picking out the details.

Special thanks to my good friend @lightautumnsky for taking a look at this for me and giving me her opinion- you’re amazing and I owe you big for this.

One more disclaimer; normally I go out of my way to keep my darlings and reader inserts as neutral as possible. Everyone deserves to be a darling no matter gender or race. However, because a lot of Io’s importance is because of her bloodline, I had to keep her female. I’m very sorry, but that’s how this had to happen.

tw: implied forced pregnancy

Your legs ache as you climb the mountain. Your hooves are uncertain in the stone as you journey upwards, and you huff with exhaustion. The sun beats down on your hide and your tongue lolls- you’d never thought to miss sweat before.

Overhead and forward some distance an eagle screeches, and you shudder instinctively. But there is no lightning crossing the sky, and no boom of thunder, and so you continue on.

You make steady ground and in the distance you see him, and you breathe in peace.

You’re so close.

The Adversary, chained to the mountain; beneath his sunburn he is frighteningly pale, with matted dark hair and haunted eyes. He tracks your progress as you approach. There is a gaping, scabbed wound in his side, bleeding sluggishly.

Everyone knows the story- once an ally with the Lord of the Sky, he’d disobeyed to serve humanity. For his insolence, Zeus had stripped his name and chained him to the mountains, his eagle set upon him to tear out his liver every day.

You are so tired, but you’re made the journey, and you feel you deserve a rest, setting yourself down at his feet and looking up at him patiently.

“You’re no normal cow, are you?” He asks bluntly, peering down at you. He doesn’t seem surprised. You shake your head no- and he nods. “Transformation?” You nod in assent. “Nice to know they haven’t changed.”

You want to ask, but he laughs a little. It’s distinctly unamused. “I can understand you. Don’t worry. Now, the details?”

“I don’t quite know where to begin.” You admit carefully. The Eagle is nearby, and you aren’t sure if it’s just an eagle.

The titan catches where you look and assures you that it’s just an eagle. “A pet, that’s all. Let’s begin this way- what have you come for?”

“Do you have a name?” You ask first. “I need to call you something.” Are you imagining the slight quirk of the titan’s lips.

“L. It’s close enough to what was stolen.”

So you begin.

i.

Your name was Io. Is it still? Who knows, a cow can’t introduce herself.

You were a priestess to Hera, but before that you were a princess, princess of Argos. You’d not wanted to marry, and so your parents had bought you a place in the temple, and you had devoted yourself to worship.

That life spoke to you, and you had friends in your sister priestesses, and went about your duties happily- you cleaned your section of the temple, you helped prepare meals, occasionally you even assisted with the sacrifices to the Goddess herself. You would stand behind the senior priestess as she prayed watch the smoke from the altar drift to the sky and think in this I am happy.

Your life continued this way for months, until winter came, and with it came Gamelion- the month blessed for marriage. Engaged women and mothers of the brides and their grooms flocked to the temple to pray for wealth, happiness and love.

Among the ceremony were the plays- plays dedicated to the marriage of your Gods. The performers reenacted the marriage and courtship of the pantheon, and as always, Mighty Zeus ad Hera were among the most frequent.

The temple kept cuckoos for their own performances, and you loved the birds. Only the most senior priestesses were tasked with their care, but you liked to be around them when you had the time.

It was your duty one morning to prepare the altar- you cleaned it and offered your prayers to Hera. You lit incense and kept your voice pitched low. The fruit offered- the finest of oranges- filled the room with it’s citrussy scent. All the smells made your nose itch.

Your eyes were closed when it happened; all you felt was heat. The light was visible through your eyelids, like you were looking straight at the sun when you’d closed them. There was no noise, no smells, nothing- just the light.

When it was gone, the worshippers in the chamber were gaping at you with awe, and your robes were dusted with gold. The offerings to Hera, you realized with growing horror, were gone- replaced by pomegranates.

                                                       --------

“So you were blessed by Zeus.” L interrupts. You nod.

“That’s what the High Priestess said, anyway.”

“How did you feel?”

“Afraid.”

“Oh?”

“Zeus blessed a priestess devoted to Hera in Her own temple while she stood before Hera’s altar.” You elaborate with one more shudder. L hums, and you can see that his fingers twitch.

“And everyone knows what happens to Light’s conquests.” He says quietly, and you frown, as much as you can.

“Light?”

“Continue, Io.”

ii.

One night, soon after, there was a thunderstorm. You lied in your bed, shivering beneath your blankets.

You’d grown up sharing a room with your sisters; the single accommodation afforded to you as a Priestess left you lonely on nights like that. Your youngest sister had been frightened of thunder, and often joined you in your bed to keep from crying out and waking the others.

“It’s only Zeus, little one,” Mother would promise when she caught you both, smiling a little, then leading your sister back to her own bed. “Nothing to fear.”

Lightning arced across the sky with a boom.

Nothing to fear indeed.

You shivered and tucked your blanket under your chin.

Storms had never scared you like this.

But then, you reflected, never had you been in a position where the Lord of Storms had blessed you.

The gold hadn’t come off those robes, and it had taken the temple’s strongest soap to remove it from your skin.

Outside your window, the tree shook with the force of the wind, and the chill crept in. 

Sleep was long coming that night, and it didn’t come easy. Dreams were too much to ask, but sleep you finally did, even with the noise of rivaling the falling of the sky happening outside.

In the morning a bowl of acorns lay on your sill innocently, even if they were all but innocent.

                                                         ----

“That must have been frightening.” 

By now night was falling, and the first of the stars were lit.

“Oh very much. I nearly screamed. But then I’d have woken the others and that’s not fair to them.” You explained. With night falling the flies had finally ceased tormenting you, and you can finally relax.

“What was Misa’s opinion?”

It shouldn’t shock you, L knowing Hera’s second name. He’d once walked with them before his betrayal.

“I received no sign or omen in warning.” You can’t help the bitterness.

By now, the wound in L’s side has nearly healed completely.

You hope to be gone before morning, or at least before the torment begins again.

“What was the High Priestess’ opinion of these occurrences?”

iii.

“Have you actually seen Him?” High Priestess Agnete demanded.

“Of course not! Would I still be here if I had?” You demanded before you could stop yourself. The slap was painful, but not unexpected, and you bowed your head in apology.

“So Zeus has just been...sending you gifts?” And you could actually hear the derision in her voice. Or contempt?

“I know how it sounds, ma’am.” You promised.

“Do you? Because it sounds to me that an under priestess, one who’s hardly belonged to the temple longer than perhaps a fortnight,” and that wasn’t fair- you’d been here more than a year and she damn well knew it, “is claiming that the Lord of the Sky is attempting to court you.”

Court you? Was she serious?

Who in their right mind believed Him capable of courting anyone besides His wife? 

Zeus seduced. He did not court.

“I understand,” you tried again, trying to keep the nervousness from your hands, “how it sounds, but I swear-”

“Say no more or risk punishment for your lies.”

“And the gold?” You demanded, “even you agreed that that was a sign from Him, didn’t you? And oak-”

“A blessing and nothing more. Zeus’ holy tree is the oak- I don’t believe acorns count toward anything significant, Io. Now, if you don’t mind-”

You had a split moment to wonder if Agnete was being thick on purpose, perhaps playing up her ignorance to stay out of matters larger than her, when a screech rendered the air and made both of you look up.

Agnete scrambled back as a sceptre, long and golden, emblazoned with the mark of Light, embedded itself in the ground at your feet. It was nearly as tall as you, slim and well crafted.

To your left there was the fluttering of wings, and an eagle seated itself on the garden wall, watching you with eyes unblinking.

Agnete had whimpered, and you couldn’t help but feel smug satisfaction at being proven right.

                                                           -----

“I take it that things got worse after that?” 

The moon cast shadows on L’s face, and your new eyes had poor sight in the dark. You might have missed his face entirely if not for the shine of moonlight from his eyes. You wonder if he can see you clearly with his hair hanging in his face like that.

“Not at first.”

“Were there any more gifts?”

Gifts, and you couldn’t resist a laugh.

“No. None. I’d gotten the message.”

“But you refused him?”

“Yes. I was a priestess. It was out of the question already.” Besides, Zeus had never turned up to try and goad you into it. Or force, as it were. Your stomach growls. Nothing can be done- the mountain is barren, there’s nothing to graze here. 

iv.

Your sister Priestesses were dying.

It was late, and you were praying feverishly.

You hadn’t slept in several days, nor eaten. 

As they walked about, as they prayed, as they did their chores, they were dropping dead like flies with nothing to forewarn what was happening. The old, the young, the experienced and the newly initiated. Agnete had gone first, and of them, only she had seemed to be in pain.

“Hera, Mother and Wife, Patron of This Holy Temple, to You I Pray,” you whispered, on your knees with your head to the stone floor. You’d been at this for hours. The words were blurring together, and the smoke of the incense was so thick you could hardly see. 

“Rise, Mortal,” a soft voice called, “and gaze upon your Patron.”

Misa, Queen and Mother. She was small and golden haired, dressed in elegant blues and greens, with a crown upon her head and a silver scepter in hand.

You looked at her and you saw Power. You were in the presence of a God, and never before had you felt so small.

“Lady Misa.” You whispered. She nodded.

“Many names have I, Mortal. But you know that, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer; this was all relative. You were in danger. You knew you were in danger.

Misa stepped forward and looked you over. Her eyes were cold as the sea- you were nothing to her, a catalyst to her cult’s destruction at the hands of her husband.

“Zeus pursues you, mortal, though I’m sure you’re aware.”

You swallowed.

“Yes, My Lady.”

She began to circle you, silently as a cat. You couldn’t bear to look in her eyes.

��Never before has my husband been so...brazen, as to pursue a priestess belonging to me. In my own temple.” Was that anger or pain that made the slight Goddess flinch. “He strikes down my own worshippers even.” She tsked, “all for you.”

“My Lady,”

“My Husband pursued me once. With great zeal. But I had something he wanted then. Now you’ve caught his eye. It won’t last long, but until then, you cannot stay here.”

Her sceptre clapped upon the ground and you felt something akin to nausea take you over from the inside out. You stared up at her, even as your flesh changed and your bones turned. There was no pain, just horror.

“Leave my Temple, Io. In this form, Zeus will not find you. I suggest you make use of that gift.” 

And then Misa was gone.

v.

“Is that the end of it?” Asked L. The sun was beginning to peak over the valley below, but the light had yet to touch the mountains. The titan’s side was healed by now.

“Yes. You’re said to be the wisest besides Athena, and you have the gift of Prophecy. Is there any way to undo what was done to me, L?” The name is strange and foreign on your tongue.

L looks south, towards Mount Olympus.

“I spoke the truth to Men before. I Saw what he would become, and I tried to mitigate the damage. For that betrayal he hunted my brothers and sisters and stripped me of my name, chained me to this mountain and tortures me day after day with his damned bird.” His expression equal parts bitter and sad, but when he looks at you he is angry.

“Go South. Beyond the sea is a Land of Sand and Fire, there, there are magics unlike ours. You will find a way to return to your former body. But be warned, Priestess. Should Zeus find you he will get what he wants. And from your unions a bloodline cursed and blessed shall be born. Blessed with the weakness of their dam and cursed with the madness of their progenitor; a line of heroes and kings and monsters.”

The eagle opens its eyes and with a screech descends upon L’s side with a vengeance.

You do not thank the titan, but you do offer a prayer that he might be freed some day.

vi.

It’s a long journey to the South.

You are so tired you can hardly stand, but the sand beneath your feet is undeniable, and you could weep for joy.

From there it’s a blur of heat and confusion. You cannot speak, and never before has this land seen a cow quite like you. Common enough for Greece, but not here.

You are taken to a palace where you are fed and watered and given shelter.

By morning, the court sorcerer has seen you, declared you to be enchanted, and broken Misa’s hold on you.

It’s quite embarrassing; a beautiful woman, naked in the royal stable. But the sorcerer calls for clothing and soon you’re dressed in fabrics so lovely that they might as well be gossamer on your skin for how soft they are.

You spend that night in a bedroom fit for royalty, and you allow yourself to be pampered for the first time in ages.

The King requests that you join him for the evening meal, and you arrive, presenting yourself as the Princess that you are, since you are no longer a Priestess.

Seated on a strange throne is a young man about your age. He watches you with eyes too red and hair of chestnut, but to look at his face is to see a clever face that you have known.

Light, Lord of Storms, Lord of the Skies.

Zeus, King of the Gods.

“Hello, darling.” 

He stands and descends, taking your hands in his when he reaches you.

“You’ve come so far, I’m so proud! You did exactly what I thought you might.” His hand is soft on your cheek, thumb daring to touch your lower lip. In his eyes is greed and lust and pride.

“Did you know, sweet Io, that I overhear what my servants do? Gossip, knowledge, prophecy,” perhaps you might die now. Drop dead like the others. 

But Light continues, unashamed, amused, even.

“Io, Mother of Legacies- it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, my darling?” 

Are the walls closing in?

“And best of all, Hera can’t reach us here.”

His hand cups you middle, imagining the growth there.

“From you springs a dynasty.”

[macklives]

session 63 end

okayyy. neat-fucking-o. thats done and boy OH FUCKING BOY i have a lot to say. and this is going to get mildly serious. sorry. theres a lot to uncover this session which basically is just one huge overall plot point. the whole timeline shindig. the thing that has messed me up for a few hours ngl.

man.... this is gonna be a long one. im not even exaggerating. (still, a tldr at the end)

so, the main thing besides from the time shindig plot, which is both important and essential and precious: DAVESPRITE <3 

k cool. ill expand on that throughout this whole note, but would rather like to make a whole analogy first before i do so.

so, to start off from last session, dave went back in time to fix jade and john’s death.

but i guess, from what ive read, GC never realized what she did was bad. she basically screwed everyone over and dave had to go back to fix things, which yes, does sound bad. but honestly? i dont think she really realized how bad it was until davesprite had the talk with her. and now they are both friends i take it, shocking development. but thats between davesprite, rather than dave himself so there may be two different views on how he sees GC. anyways, it was pretty bad. i wont just forget that. i love her character but she killed off two characters (who thankfully are now alive), making dave a sprite and future rose to just not exist anymore. or... well.... she does, but she seemed to have fused with PRESENT rose. which i guess we’ll figure out how that works the next time we see her. which will probably be on derse. 

but, tbh, GC wanted to apologize and felt bad about the whole situation. so im giving her the benefit of the doubt here.

now.. man...

can i take a second to analyze davesprite? and a little bit about the concept of john/dave’s friendship (just a tad)? ie the two greatest things in the world? thanks.

i think the thing that hit me the hardest was how davesprite (im calling him that to distinguish which dave im talking about but keep in mind i should be calling them both dave. but this makes it easier to write up.) well, davesprite explained how he’d continue to reset the timeline until john and jade are alive. which basically means he would use himself as a sacrifice to allow their survival. which ALSO means he cares more for them than he does himself. he’d throw his life away for them. he knew there was a possibility of him ceasing to exist if they reset the timeline again. he literally said it in such a nonchalant way that it makes me wonder how much his friends really mean to him. which in retrospect, is a lot. now pls keep this in mind for the next part.

now, dave also has so much appreciation towards himself. but not in the cocky way, of course. rather in the way that shows self love?? kinda?? like he genuinely wanted to hang with davesprite, brainstorm his comic and vice versa bc they both think their alt version is that cool. i know it should sound kinda narcissistic, but listen. a lot of people dont often appreciate themselves for who they are. and what i really want to emphasize on that here, is that this comes back to the whole putting himself before others thing. because that specific line i mentioned before is a BIG FUCKING DEAL. since dave thinks so highly of himself as a cool guy, rad dude, arent we so awesome type kid that he LITERALLY didnt care for his life in that one hot second. he made sure he was a pawn used to help out his friends rather than an actual human being who should worry about his life as well. he didnt care if he survived or not in the process of making sure everything was going alright. which is such a fucking leap from this whole self-respecting thing. its as if that didnt matter anymore. and that takes a fucking beating. that shows how much dave truly loves his friends. do you know how fucking BIG THAT WHOLE DEAL IS?

take john for example. dave didnt give two shits who the person on the other line was. he found out GC was the troll who killed john and basically threatened her with every inch of his life to make her back away from him. he knew what it would cause and said “fuck you” in bright and bold. all because he didnt want to see his friend die again. which? fair enough. and if we look back at the last session, god that could mess someone up. especially someone as young as 13. rose even got the worst end of the stick bc she flat out ceased to exist. but then again, thats in the same boat as jade/john. bc they all technically died. yet davesprite didnt. he remembers it. davesprite isnt just going to forget. he’s going to have surviver’s guilt for a long time, because being dave’s guide will forever be a reminder that he’s the version in the doomed timeline. he’s the only one who knows what happened, and he wont become the “true dave” in a sense that he’s now just considered “davesprite” and nothing more, since he cant just be dave since his timeline ended up fucked. not to mention he technically said he was fine with it, bc since it meant the others survived, he wouldnt care what happened to his life. even tho he should and it still probably hurts him idk. and that kills me a little. actually, more than a little. this is personally the most gut wrenching scene in homestuck (but i may just be speculating too much). but that wont stop him from helping dave and giving him all the answer, and also protecting john with everything he has.

and, man, i feel as if he’s gonna be such a good guide for dave. he already gave him the loot, the rundown and is very open about questions dave already has because he knows how tough it probably is to have a shitty guide. considering he was stuck with calsprite for 4 months. so obviously he’s going to help as much as possible. since he probably had little to none and didnt learn as much as he should have through the course of sburb. but now, as a guide, he can easily access all the info he lost during the pathway of his timeline. and share it with dave so he doesn’t struggle and actually completes the game rather than end up in a doomed timeline like himself.

but yes. dave’s blatant adoration for john basically saved them both in a way. and it seems as if its a little mutual considering john told dave he’d always believe him no matter what in the end. how he reconsidered everything, remembered the note and realized how good their friendship is to just give it up like that. and then vice versa. dave couldnt continue on the game without him or jade, so he went back in time. and showed his pissed-off protective side in order to save john again. which warms my heart bc they both mean so much to each other. and both got each other super sentimental gifts and wrote each other such touching cards.

and thats a good way to end the session, i think.

so there we have it. ive never wanted to hug a character so bad than i do with davesprite. i just hope everyone at least acknowledges him in some way, and gives him some amount of respect for what he did for everybody. ive only met him for like 10 pages, but i think he’s the most emotional character so far. and i guess since he’s dave himself, and i feel for dave based on his situation with bro, its safe to say i would protect him with my life. which i dont want to be *that* person but hey, its true. its just that he’s been through so much bullshit, and davesprite is the only survivor of his timeline, always will be reminded of it whenever he sees dave/john/rose/jade playing the game, is now a fucking sprite who wont be able to live his own path but just be a guide and god, i feel for him. i really do.

i shouldnt have written such a long note about davesprite.. but his whole story as to how he became a thing really got to me, alright?

i should write a tldr, cool. here yall go; i actually love davesprite, he’s been through some shit and he deserves hells of respect. GC is forgiven and we’ll find out next time how both version of rose.. fused together?