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nickfowlerrr · 2 days ago

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something good and true - part 2

part one / part three

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings (for all parts in whole): 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀 smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

words: 5k

notes: i’m so happy people are enjoying the first part, hopefully you’ll enjoy the rest too! lol thank you in advance for reading, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

You wake up to the sound of your daily alarm going off, grumbling as you search your sheets for your phone. When you have a grasp on it, you press the ‘stop’ button and make yourself sit up. You reach for your mouth guard case on the night stand as you take out your night guard, putting it in its case and placing it down momentarily. You rub your eyes, sighing as you try and really wake up. You went to bed early last night, somehow slept longer than usual, and are still tired. Great.

You finally force yourself out of bed and get started on your usual morning routine.

It’s Valentine’s Day but you don’t have a place to be until tonight so you take your time, enjoying the pleasure of a slow morning knowing you don’t have to be at work at all today.

When you’re done getting ready in the bathroom you find yourself dilly dallying in the closet. You don’t know what you should wear. Would dressing up be weird for a dinner/crime confessional? Or would it be more rude to show up to the regal Barnes’ home in casual clothes?

Finally you decide to meet in the middle of the two. You grab your fitted long sleeve purple top, the asymmetric off the shoulder style upgrading the otherwise basic top without being too much, and look for your nice figure hugging pants.

You don’t dress right away, wanting to save the outfit for before you’re set to be picked up in case of a mess. In the meantime, you do your usual makeup routine and style your hair for the day. It’s getting close to noon and your stomach growls, reminding you you’ve yet to eat. You head to the kitchen, still in your pajamas, prepared to start on a quick lunch when you hear a knock on the door.

You freeze for a moment before you walk toward the door, completely unsure of who it could be. You aren’t expecting anyone and the only person you’d be worried to answer the door to would be nothing more than a spector today.

You look out the peephole and see a delivery woman. With a quirked brow, you unlock the door and pull it open.

“Hello,” you greet.

“How are you, sweetie,” she returns with a bright smile. “Got a nice little delivery for you today,” she gestures to the long box she’s rested against the wall. “Just need a signature.”

You smile and take the pen from her, signing quickly, and probably illegibly.

“I’ll tell you, this is probably the biggest box for a bouquet that I’ve delivered since I started,” she laughs, “someone must really want you as their valentine.”

You laugh in return, trying to hide your confusion. There’s flowers in that box?

“Thank you,” you say as you hand her pen back.

“Have a nice Valentine’s,” she says as she turns and walks back toward her truck.

“You, too,” you say after her.

You turn your attention to the box and are careful as you bring it inside. You get it on the table and open it up.

You’re stunned at the bouquet that it holds. You never would’ve guessed the contents of this if she hadn’t mentioned it. The company name is on the inside of the box along with instructions for removing the bouquet without damaging the flowers. You follow the guidance after removing the glass vase packed safely next to the flowers.

It’s gorgeous, and surely expensive. A bouquet this beautifully arranged, with these varieties of flowers and fillers, you don’t know a whole lot about flower prices but you know arrangements like these cost a pretty penny, especially when they’re this size.

You don’t have to do much to the bouquet but again follow the care instructions as you put them in their vase.

At the very bottom of the box is a small card, it appears to have fallen from its stick that still resides among the stems. You can think of only one person who would be sending flowers, but you’re still a little struck when you read his initials on the card.

Forgive the surprise, but it’d be a shame for a woman as special as you to not be gifted on Valentine's.

I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.

- J.B.B

You try and quell the butterflies taking flight, try and tamper down the renewed nerves, but… He sent you flowers.

You bite your lip, not wanting to break a full smile. It was nice. But was it too much, and too soon? And no way you should feel this giddy with everything you’ve been going through. You don’t even think you’ve really cried since that day. You know better than to bury emotions, to try and move on without dealing with them. With the - you hate to call it what it is - trauma.

The truth is you don’t feel traumatized. You just don’t like to think about him. You don’t like to think about the pain, or the bruises, or the blood, or the knife. You don’t like remembering the fact that you saw a man die.

You shake the thoughts away, like you always do. No.

He’s ruined enough in your life, you think. You won’t let him ruin this new found light, too.

6:30 and you’re only now changing out of your pjs. You put on your pants and your top, checking in the mirror that it looks the way you envisioned it would. You slip on your black heeled mules and touch up your hair and makeup before putting on some simple jewelry. This isn’t a date, you remind yourself. This is dinner and the truth.

Your heart races at the thought of having to recall that day but you ignore it. It’ll be good for you, finally telling someone the whole of it.

A knock on your door startles you and you check the time on your phone to find it’s fifteen til.

You do one last check before turning off the lights and coming out into the front room, shutting the other lights off on your way. You double check the peephole and are reassured of Bucky’s presence on the other side. You have your phone in one hand and your small purse in the other, keys dangling from a finger as you open the door to him.

“Hi,” you muster up the greeting as you try to keep from staring at him. He looks sharp and you suddenly feel a little underdressed. Maybe a dress was the right way to go… You want to compliment him but then you’re unsure he’s dressed for you specifically.

“Hello,” he returns, a small smirk on his lips. “You look lovely.”

“Oh,” you look down at yourself, “thank you.” In the same moment, you remember the flowers and repeat yourself, looking to meet his eye. “And thank you, for the flowers, I- they’re beautiful.”

“Not more than you,” he says smoothly, “but I’m glad you liked them. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” you nod, stepping out. You turn to lock the door and slip the keys and your phone into your purse before turning to him again.

Bucky holds his arm out for you to take and you falter for just a split second before you do. He leads you to his car, the same blacked out Jaguar as before, and helps you in.

You try to settle in and buckle yourself before he gets in on his side.

He starts the car and after adjusting the temperature, takes off to his place.

“You like Italian?” he asks out of the blue a couple minutes into the quiet ride.

You glance over at him, “Uhm, yeah. I do.”

“The chef is making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner,” he says with a side glance to you. “Is that alright for you?”

You raise your brows unexpectedly, the question surprising you, “Yes. That ah, sounds good,” you nod.

He looks over at you again, one hand on the wheel as he drives smoothly. You clear your throat nervously.

“How’s your day been?” you ask, your nerves clear in your voice despite your attempt to hide them.

His lips quirk in a half smile, huffing a laugh through his nose.

“Relatively uneventful, until now. Had lunch with an old friend, made some business calls but aside from that I tried to keep my day clear.”

“Oh,” you hum, suddenly feeling bad about having to intrude on his day - though he was the one who didn’t give much of an option at all.

“Truthfully, I’ve just been looking forward to seeing you.”

Your eyes start slowly looking up from your lap as you take in his words until you turn to meet his gaze.

“Me?”

“You.”

You swallow thickly and avert your eyes, you’re once again at a loss for words.

“Sorry,” he chuckles softly, “was that too much?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't think I’ve made myself or my intentions clear enough,” he says, turning onto a desolate street and driving up what you now see is a long, winding driveway. His home comes into view and your eyes widen. It’s like Wayne Manor. The Neo-Georgian style is oddly fitting for the man beside you.

You’re brought back to the conversation as Bucky pulls into the large garage and parks the car. You look at him fully once more, his bright blue eyes already on you.

“I don’t want you feeling scared or nervous, or like you’re in any kind of trouble here. Tonight is really more selfishly motivated on my part than anything. I just wanna talk over dinner. In part to get the whole story about what happened, but also just to be able to have dinner with you without any prying eyes. I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, I should’ve made that clear to you before.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “you should’ve.” You breathe deeply but steadily as you look at him, his eyes never leaving yours, “I would’ve worn a dress.”

His lips twitch as he blinks at you; he lets out a titter as he opens his door and gets out, walking around to get your own.

He helps you out of the car and takes your arm in his, “You look beautiful no matter what.”

Your skin burns at his compliment and you can’t help your admiration. You don’t think you’ve ever been treated so nicely before.

“You’re like a real life gentleman,” you muse shyly.

“My mom didn’t raise me any other way,” he says, leading you into the house.

The aroma of marina and garlic fills your nose as you walk through the space and you suddenly feel very hungry.

“I can give you the tour later, but for now, this is the entertainment room,” he gestures to the room as you continue walking through, coming to a door and going out into the hall. “Bathroom,” he points to the door on the left of you. “Kitchen,” he points to the hinged doors the smell is emanating from, continuing down the hall to the open space it lead to. “This is the entrance and sitting room, and on the other side, just there,” he points across the way, “is the dining room. And there’s another bathroom down on the left, too.”

“You have a beautiful home,” you compliment, eyes wandering the space. It’s really like something out of a magazine or a movie. Funny to imagine people actually live in gorgeous homes like this.

“Dinner shouldn’t be too long,” Bucky starts but pauses when he sees the contemplation on your face. “What is it?” he asks.

You look to him, brows furrowed as you think before you fix your face. “Uhm, can we just talk about it now,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “Get it all out and over with.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Please.”

“Sure,” he says after assessing you for a long second, leading you to the couch to sit down.

You set your purse on the coffee table and take a seat, hands trailing down the fabric of your pants as you smooth them out of habit.

Bucky sits down beside, but leaves some space between you and him.

You aren’t sure how to start.

“Uhm, what is it that you want to know again?”

“Everything,” he says firmly, but without being too harsh, keeping his eyes on you. “What happened, how it started, how it ended. The whole story.”

“Right. Okay, well uhm, it started I guess with us getting together… it didn’t last all that long, really. Freddy and I were seeing each other last year for about six months before I ended things. Or, tried to, at least. He was moving really fast and I didn’t have all that much interest in taking our relationship further than just casually dating. We had an argument about moving in together that ended with him… slapping me,” you force the confession, “we were at his place and I just grabbed my bag and keys and left. I thought that’d be the end of it, I said as much on my way out, but he didn’t wanna accept that, I guess. And so the next six months he was…stalking me?” You weren’t sure what qualified. “I dont know, he’d just always show up places, act like nothing was wrong, kept up a front until we were alone. And I was stupid, I didn’t even bother trying to tell anyone we weren’t together after the first few times. No one believed me, anyway. So, outside looking in it seemed like a typical on again off again situation.

It got to the point where I just accepted whatever it was that was happening. I didn’t really know what else to do. How to stop it. He’d show up at my job, be waiting for me in my car sometimes. I didn’t have much of a choice of letting him in, or driving him home. He’d always end up inside, one way or another, and I… didn’t know when to shut up,” you laugh humorlessly. “I’d tell him to leave, that we weren’t together. He was crazy and wasn’t welcome anywhere around me. I’d yell and scream and the fighting was just, god, maddening. I felt like I was going crazy half the time. It didn’t escalate every time, but when it did,” you wince without noticing as you mindlessly wring your hand. “Anyway, about a month before the last time, I had found him in my house and I was just exhausted. I looked at him while he sat at the counter eating a sandwich and I asked him to leave. I told him there wasn’t anything here for him. That I didn’t love him, and I never would. And that he didn’t love me, either, and deep down that he knew it. Which is all true,” you add, chancing a glance at Bucky who is still next to you, listening intently, eyes locked on you. “I mean, we’d been seeing each other pretty casually for six months, and I knew after the first that we weren’t going anywhere. I thought we were just having fun, I just don’t know why he thought anything different…

But, uhm, yeah anyway, he actually listened that time. There wasn’t an argument, he just threw his food in the garbage, and, well, he pushed past me on his way out but he didn’t look back. Slammed the door on his way and I, I really thought that that was finally it. I thought maybe he’d moved on or something, I don’t-“ you pause, taking a needed breath as you shake your head. “I was wrong though. Because two weeks later he showed up again. Out of the blue. I was in the kitchen, making dinner because my dad was coming over to see if he could fix my heater later. I thought maybe it was him at the door so I didn’t even bother to check before I opened it. And when I did, and it was him, I immediately tried to close it. He looked… I don’t know. Bad. Like, really bad.” You can feel your eyes prick with the beginning of tears as your voice tightens at the memory. “I’d seen him in some pretty bad ways, but I never,” you swallow hard, ”I’d never felt that scared of him before. Even with the pushing and slapping and all that he’d put me through me before. This was just like, unhinged. The look in his eyes when he stared at me,” you force a breath at the recalling.

“I wasn’t able to close the door on him, he shoved it open, didn’t even say anything, just shoved me as hard as he could. I fell against the side table I had by the door, caught myself. I was freaking out, telling him to stop, to leave, and he wouldn’t.

I tried to get to the kitchen to grab my phone and call my dad but he caught me by the back of my shirt and yanked me back. He was going on and on about how stupid I was. How I ruined everything. Calling me every expletive under the sun. He shoved me forward and I went straight into the counter, that hurt,” you monologue, recalling the feeling sharply. “He kicked me while I was leaning against the counter but I got my phone and called my dad. I didn’t even wait for him to answer, I just put my phone back on the counter and hoped Freddy hadn’t noticed. Hoped my dad picked up. He kicked me again, in my back and I kinda fell into the chair there. Was holding it because I didn’t wanna be on the ground but he’d knocked the wind out of me and my chest hurt so badly I wasn’t really able to do anything but try and force myself to breathe. And then I felt him closer, he kneeled down, still over me but more on my level and he just, uh, he smashed my head into that back side of the counter. I tried to elbow him away but he did it again. And then I don’t know what I did,” you try to recall, “but I did something that hurt hit, must’ve hit him somewhere somehow because he backed off while calling me a stupid bitch. The whole time I’m like grunting and trying to be as loud as I can just praying my dad answered and could hear and would be on his way.” You have to stop for a second, regaining control of your voice. You’ve almost forgotten that Bucky is beside you as you narrate what you remember.

“I pushed myself up then, got to my feet, but he was already standing too. He shoved me back and back until I hit the wall just next to the kitchen. And then his hands were on my throat and he was choking me. Just forcing me into the wall over and over. I was clawing at him to let me go. I had to shut my eyes because the look on his face,” you cringe. “I kind of stopped listening to what he was saying at one point because it was just an endless stream of blame and anger. I couldn’t breathe,” you squeeze your hand so tight as you speak, “and then I thought, just try to kick him. And so I did. I kneed him, actually, right between his legs and he let go and I kinda dropped. My throat hurt and my head hurt and I was coughing trying to get a good breath in. And then, I didn’t even notice it happening, didn’t even try to dodge it or deflect it, but he just hit me right in the face. Like, boom.

I’d never been punched in the face before,” you chuckle dryly. “Things get blurry around this point. But I remember falling to my hands and knees at some point. He stepped on my hand and kicked my wrist and that hurt like a bitch. Everything was hurting actually. The part I really remember is the kicking. He kicked me in my ribs and I kinda collapsed on my side. Then he kicked me in my back. A few times. Just, as hard as he possibly could it felt like. He started to like, pace around me, and he was still talking but honestly, I have no idea what he was saying. I started to go out of it and I guess he didn’t like that because I remember hearing his voice get louder and then he kicked me again right in the stomach. I was curling up like getting into fetal position basically just trying to not get more hurt. But he just kept kicking me. Over, and over,” your voice shakes as your voice gets breathy, “and over.” Your eyes are misty with unshed tears welling as you stare at your wringing hands. It’s starting to hurt and as if Bucky himself could feel it, he gently reaches to take hold of your hand, stilling your anxious self soothing and giving it the gentlest squeeze, waiting for you to continue as he listens. You glance quickly his way, but don’t look at him. Your eyes instead focusing on your hand in his. You’re not sure you can look at him. You just need to finish telling him what you know about what happened, and then you can face him again.

“We were in front of the kitchen when my dad came in. The door was open, so he got in right away and, most of this is blacked out for me, but I remember hearing my dad saying my name, and,” you feel the tears begin to slip as you sigh in that same relief, “and I thought, thank god,” you titter tightly. “It’s okay now. I’m gonna be okay.” You reach with one hand to swipe at the tears on your cheeks as you sniffle a bit. “There were a lot of loud sounds, I didn’t see anything but I could hear them. I think when my dad first came in he just charged right for Freddy to get him away from me. And my dad, he just saw red. I don’t think anyone would’ve been able to stop him once he got his hands on Freddy. He had been listening to everything that was happening as he drove to my house so I mean, I can only imagine what was going through his head. And then seeing me like that…” you take a pause.

“I really think he saved my life,” you say, finally looking up to Bucky. He looks tense, jaw squared and something dark swimming in his eyes before he recognizes you looking at him - immediately trying to soften his hard gaze. You know innately that he isn’t angered by you, but rather, what happened. And the delicate way he still holds your hand assures you of that.

“And, well, they ended up in the kitchen, and considering only the few defensive marks on my dad after everything, I think he was just pummeling him. I finally got myself to try and get up and made it closer to the kitchen. I wanted to make sure my dad was alright, and right when I saw them, I saw Freddy trying to get the knife I had been using that was still on the counter. My dad noticed, hit him again, and then grabbed it himself. And then, he, uhm,” you try to clear your throat, “he stabbed him. A few times,” you add, turning closer to Bucky without realizing. “And I guess I don’t really have the stomach for that stuff because after that I just passed out. Scared the hell out of my dad. He saw me and immediately left Freddy, let him fall. Let him… die. I really don’t think he meant to, necessarily. But I know he didn’t really care either way if he did or not. Which is, ya know, I’m not mad or upset at my dad for what he did. At all. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it myself, and at the end of the day it was either gonna be him or one of us.” You bite your lip as you fidget with Bucky’s hand. You take a moment, taking a breath before getting back to the story. It comes a little easier now, like the hardest part of remembering has passed.

“I woke up in my old bedroom at my parents house, my mom was there. I could tell she had been worried. She told me my dad brought me home and that he went to go clean up and ‘get rid of the trash’. You know, take the trash out and all that,” you allude, giving Bucky a look, eyeing him and hoping to lighten a little bit of the tension around him. He lets the smallest hint of a smile tug on his lips as he stares at you.

“I know,” he confirms, then waits for you to go on. You blink away from him, playing with the silver signet ring on his pinky.

“I really don’t know what he did with him,” you tell him. “He wouldn’t tell me. He didn’t want me to know, or to worry about it. He said if anything happened, if police got involved, he didn’t want me to have any part in it.”

“Good man.”

You smile at Bucky’s words and nod slightly. “Yeah. He is,” you look back at Bucky, hoping to explain better that the trouble this whole thing caused wasn’t his fault. “He was just trying to take care of me, keep me safe. So, I know Freddy worked in your organization, and if his…going missing, caused problems for you, I’m sorry. It was neve-“

“Woah, sweetheart,” Bucky cuts you off almost right away, brows furrowed, “That was never an issue. Freddy had been a problem for business for a while, actually. My only regret is not having handled him myself, and sooner;” he says, his voice low and his agitation at the regret clear in his tone and in his eyes. “I owe your father a thank you.”

Another relief washes over you. You had wanted to believe before when he said you and your dad had nothing to worry about, but hearing that now, you fully do. Especially seeing the raw emotions swimming in the blues of his eyes. He means what he says, you know it.

“The only reason I bothered to look into his absence at all was because of the information and money he had in his car the last time he had a job. We got footage of your dad from that night, parking and abandoning the car, a couple weeks after I first met you. We got what we really needed then, got the car and found the inventory. Thought maybe he was going rogue, went into hiding or something, but then, some of my guys actually found him - and I figured we should know what went down if we wanted to make sure getting rid of him for good would be the end of it. And I knew, somehow, this had you all caught up in it. You’re not the best liar,” he smirks teasingly before he gets serious again, “and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to make sure you were okay. And now I know, so it's done. I promise you aren’t ever gonna have to worry or think about that scumbag again.” He moves his hand from yours and instead takes both in his, holding them as he looks at you sincerely. “I know that wasn’t easy for you to have to talk about, but I appreciate you telling me. I’m sorry you ever had to go through any of that. None’a that should’ve happened. And you deserve a hell of a lot better than the likes of him, even at his best, ya know that?”

You look at him, a little taken aback by his sincerity and care. People talk a lot about Bucky Barnes, but clearly not many know him - not like this. You’ve seen the exterior, the hardened, cocky front. But this caring, attentive and protective side is something you’d never have expected. Though it’s more than welcome. You warm at his words but don’t answer, instead looking down at your hands for a second before he takes his back. He lifts his touch to your chin and tilts until your eyes meet his again, a breath caught in your throat when you do.

“You do know that, don’t you, doll?” He repeats, the softness you find yourself growing ever fonder of back in his intent gaze as he seems to try and peer into your soul.

You can’t get your tongue to work but your hand moves to hold his wrist gently and you manage to nod your head. Then your body seems to move without thinking. You pull his hand away and he lets you, but you don’t drop your touch, instead guiding his hand to his side. You then find yourself moving into him without a word. You couldn’t resist the urge to hug him if you’d wanted to. Your arms go around him as you lean into him, his own arms readily coming around you in return. Your eyes fall shut at the feeling the warmth of him sends through you, your body relaxing, the tension that had been coursing through you relieving more and more.

“Thank you,” you murmur before pulling away. “And sorry,” you breathe a slightly embarrassed laugh as you look at him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, a hint of a smile curving his lips, one arm still around your waist. You aren’t sure he even realizes and truthfully, you don’t mind at all. In fact, you like the feeling.

A moment passes as you both just look at one another until you hear his name and his hand falls fully on your hip.

“Mr. Barnes,” a man speaks as he enters from the hall in the direction of the kitchen. You both give him your attention as you turn to look at him. “Oh, excuse me, my apologies,” he smiles at you as you catch his eye. “Dinner will be served shortly, and I can bring your salads out momentarily if you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Grant,” Bucky dismisses before turning his full attention back to you. “Are you hungry?”

You turn to Bucky and nod, a soft, small smile pulling at your lips, “Very,” you answer honestly.

His touch slips away as he stands but he holds his hand out for you to take. You do just that and let him lead you to the dining room.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #mob boss!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #mob bucky barnes

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 month ago

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Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#3K followers #3K followers milestone #Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #twst requests #Twisted Wonderland requests #requests #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader

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spnhunter4life · 2 months ago

Text

Good Morning

Summary: Ridoc is dying to share the latest gossip he's just discovered about a certain squadmate or two.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry in advance for the somewhat lengthy note here. Don't feel obligated to read the whole thing. So, I'm back and writing again! Not only is this my first fic back after nearly 6 months, but it's my first Fourth Wing fic! It is also my first time writing for anything other than Supernatural. After finishing these books I did the only logical thing and started searching out fanfiction to cope with the very real Fourth Wing hangover I was dealing with, and I was a little disappointed that there aren't more Liam fics out there since he is by far my favorite character. So I guess this is me, getting a start on putting more Liam fics out into the world. You're welcome? Maybe? Hopefully? Anyway, this fic is mostly just a lot of banter between the squad. Writing this kind of friend dynamic doesn't come super easily to me, but I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it too! (Also, big thank you to anyone who actually read this whole thing!)

Masterlist

“Good morning!” Ridoc chirped with the biggest, most knowing grin on his face I’d ever seen. I glared daggers at him as I took my seat at the table next to Violet, Liam setting his plate down and sitting next to me.

His cheerful greeting was widely ignored, acknowledged only by Sawyer who managed little more than a grunt in reply.

Undeterred by this lackluster response, Ridoc continued cheerfully, “It is a great morning, isn’t it? What do you think, Rhi?”

I continued my glaring, but Liam merely rolled his eyes.

“I think it would be better if you weren’t being so loud,” Rhiannon, who had the misfortune of sitting next to him, grumbled.

“See? Rhiannon agrees,” Ridoc continued, either not listening to her answer or just ignoring it in favor of his obvious goal. “What about you, Violet? Having a good morning?”

Violet looked at Ridoc a little warily, catching on to his tone. “I suppose so,” she agreed.

Sawyer, who was also catching on, began to look suspiciously around the room before focusing back on our table. “What’s going on, Ridoc?” He asked.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” Ridoc replied in a tone that was far from casual. “But since you ask, you know who I hear is having a particularly good morning?” That knowing smile was back, but toned down into more of a smirk than an all out grin.

“Ridoc,” I warned since my glaring evidently hadn’t made my point.

“I heard Sam saying he saw Jesse coming out of Avery’s room this morning.”

I felt the tension leave my shoulders and everyone else rolled their eyes.

“That’s old news,” Sawyer said.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a great morning for them,” Ridoc countered.

Conversation seemingly over, I turned to Violet.

“Hey, are you still available to help me study for that history test tonight?” I asked her.

“Yeah, of course,” she immediately agreed. “I’ve got some useful tips to help you memorize-”

“You know who else is having a great morning?” Ridoc cut in. My glare returned full force and I kicked him under the table. He yelped and Sawyer looked curiously between us.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” He asked.

“Ridoc caught me kissing Y/N this morning and apparently has nothing better to do than gossip about it,” Liam said, cutting off the ensuing battle of wills and drama before it could really start. Everyone gaped at him. I saw slightly squinted eyes and tilted heads as if they were replaying his words, sure they’d heard him wrong.

“Wait. Seriously?” Rhiannon was the one to break the silence, a grin slowly forming on her face.

I shot Liam a half hearted betrayed look and sighed. “Yes, really!” Ridoc said excitedly before I could say the exact same thing, albeit in a much less enthusiastic tone. It’s not that I didn’t want them to know, it’s that I didn’t want them to know yet. The truth was, we’d been together for just over a week now, and while I was loving it, I wasn’t ready to make the best thing I had going public knowledge to be gossiped about.

“You know how Liam’s been giving Y/N sparring lessons before breakfast?” He asked. While I hadn’t been performing poorly on the mat by any stretch of the imagination, I still had lots of room for improvement and had asked Liam to help me. Those lessons, those quiet times we had together with no one else around were what finally pushed us together. Turns out we’d both been pining for quite some time.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, a not so subtle push for more information.

“Well I was up early this morning and decided I’d go see if they could use my help.” This earned a snort from Rhi. “Anyway,” he continued, brushing off the wordless comment about the state of his own fighting skills, “I walked into the room and, what do you know? Turns out ‘training’ was just code for making out.”

“It was not!” I objected, a little too loudly. Several heads turned our direction and I felt my face heat. “He’s really been helping me,” I continued in a quieter voice. Liam, who was usually my go to for help in an argument of any kind, was apparently too busy being pleased with himself to back me up. I could see him fighting the smug smile threatening to take over his face. I fought the urge to roll my eyes again.

“So was this a heat of the moment, one time thing, or what happened? You know we need details!” Violet prompted.

“Heat of the moment?” I asked, eyeing Liam as I remembered his arms around me as he encouraged me to break his hold. His eyes heated as he remembered too. “Yes. One time thing? No.”

“So how long has this been going on for?” Rhi demanded.

“Barely more than a week,” Liam answered. “And we were going to tell you. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little bit.”

“You know what? I don’t even care that you didn’t tell us,” Violet assured us. “I’m just so happy to see you two finally admitting you’re into each other.”

“Yeah,” Rhi agreed. “To be honest, all the obvious staring and longing looks were getting a little old. I was about ready to step in and do something about it.”

“Like what?” I asked warily. She wasn’t one to hold back or do things the easy, gentle way, so if she truly had been planning something, then I’m glad we beat her to the punch.

“I don’t know. Kiss Liam to make you jealous. Find someone dumb enough to kiss you to make Liam jealous. Ridoc, maybe.”

“Hey!” Ridoc protested at being called dumb, but it was a token protest at best. We all knew he would’ve done it with very little prompting.

“Get a ridiculous, teenage version of truth or dare going and either have you kiss each other or force you to admit your feelings,” she continued. “Or maybe just beat you both around the head and tell you how oblivious you were both being.”

“My money’s on the last option,” Sawyer muttered, loudly enough that we all heard him. I was inclined to agree. The other options she’d listed were not really her style. She preferred a more direct approach.

“Well, luckily for us, there will be no beating necessary,” Liam said.

Ridoc grinned. “Au contraire, my friend. It sounds like some beating was very necessary. Unless you’re going to change your mind and tell me that training was just an excuse to make out after all.”

I huffed in exasperation and Liam shook his head, a fond smile on his face.

“If all we were doing was making out, why would we even come up with an excuse? Why would we not just spend the night together? It would be a lot simpler,” I pointed out.

“It would be simpler, wouldn’t it?” That ridiculous grin was still firmly plastered on his face. A quick look around the table confirmed that the rest of our friends were wearing similar smiles.

“Something to keep in mind,” Liam chuckled. “But in the meantime, I think you’ll all be quite impressed with Y/N’s improvements at our next squad training session tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah?” Violet asked with a sly grin. “Been putting her through her paces, have you?”

Ridoc choked on his water and started violently coughing to expel it from his lungs. Rhiannon thumped him on the back as she snickered.

Liam’s eyes sparked in surprise and then the corner of his mouth quirked up in a rarely seen – and unfairly attractive – mischievous grin. “Why, Violet? You thinking about joining us?” I could practically see the snarky retort forming in her mind, but just before she could voice it, Liam continued. “I’m a little preoccupied with Y/N, of course, but I could always ask Xaden to help you out.”

Violet turned red at the mention of the wingleader.

“Yes, Violet,” I grinned. “You do love seeing him without a shirt on.” I couldn’t help but reference the way she had openly stared at him yesterday while he and Garrick sparred.

“Oh please,” Rhi scoffed. “As if we’ve never seen you ogling Mairi when his shirt’s off.”

Liam turned a surprised look on me, eyebrow raised in question. I shrugged. There was no point hiding it from him anymore. “Guilty as charged.”

Liam’s smile turned back to smug and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s not exactly news to you that you’re attractive.”

“And that means I’m not supposed to like knowing that you’ve been looking?” He challenged. Then he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Or are you telling me it doesn’t do something to you when you catch me looking at you that way?”

My face felt like it was on fire with how quickly the blood rushed to it. I whipped my head around to stare at him incredulously, surprised he would make such a comment right in front of our friends. They hadn’t heard him of course, but their knowing smirks said enough about their ability to guess at what had been said.

“I thought we were teasing Violet now,” I managed to choke out. Liam’s thumb rubbed soothingly over my knee in silent apology, but the gleam in his eye told me he wasn’t sorry for making the comment, only that there were other people around.

“Her infatuation with Riorson is old news. This is much more interesting,” Ridoc answered.

“Interesting or not, if we’re going to make it to Battle Brief on time, we’d better get going,” Sawyer informed us. I glanced around the room and realized he was right. The morning’s usual mass exit was starting as everyone hurried to make it to class. We all stood up and followed them.

“Seriously, though,” Sawyer said, dropping back to walk beside us for a moment. “I’m happy for you two.” There were echoes of agreement from the other three walking directly ahead of us.

“Thanks,” Liam and I answered at the same time.

This day hadn’t started out quite how I wanted, what with our friends finding out about us, but I realized it wasn’t such a bad thing. A weight I hadn’t even realized was there was lifted off of my chest with the relief of no longer having to keep a secret from our squadmates.

I couldn’t seem to keep the smile off my face the whole way to Battle Brief. When I joined the rider’s quadrant, I was prepared for hard work and sacrifice and spending my days miserable and alone. Instead, I had a wonderful group of friends that would do anything for me. I was lucky enough to be in a relationship with the most incredible man I’d ever met. And I was happy, I realized. Happier than I’d been in a very long time. Maybe ever.

I reached for Liam’s hand under the table. He entwined our fingers without question, and I knew he would hold on until the need to take notes required us to let go. I couldn’t be upset with Ridoc anymore about outing us to the squad. I was too grateful to be a part of this little family we had all created together. I smiled to myself as I remembered his over the top greeting this morning in preparation for teasing us and how annoyed I had been. He was right, though. It was a good morning.

#good morning #fourth wing #fanfiction #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #violet sorrengail #ridoc gamlyn #sawyer henrick #rhiannon matthias #reader insert #fluff

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chaepink · 2 years ago

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Hi i really loved ur content about submissive Kenma. Can u write a fic about kenma again🥺🥺 like the reader was so jealous because some ramdom girl is flirting with kenma. Thats why she ended up fucking him all night u knaurr

jealousy, jealousy | sub!kenma kozume

wc: 1k+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, pegging, possessiveness/jealously, begging, jealous sex, aftercare is mentioned though its not written, established relationship, slight crying

note : oh my god thank you! 😳

and im sorry but i forgot to write how the reader kept fucking him all night :,)

"Oh hello~ you're rather cute, aren't you?" You ignore the voice, thinking it was just a girl hitting on a random person. That's until you hear the high pitched voice again asking the person for their number, except it was closer this time and a familiar voice answers afterwards.

"N-No thanks... I'm not i-interested.."

You stray your attention from the item in your hand to the familiar voice and furrow your eyebrows when you see the scene.

Kenma, who's your boyfriend to make it clear, being flirted on by this clueless girl who, though he denied her advances once already, thinks she still has a shot and keeps on trying to talk to him. She's getting rather close to him too, making him have to take small steps backward in order to keep the distance between them comfortable, a slight blush on his cheeks.

You feel anger bubble up inside your body as you furrow your eyebrows, glaring at the girl. You know the emotion you're currently feeling loud and clear: jealously.

Knowing how Kenma hates being social and would rather stay inside and play video games over anything else, your boyfriend is probably hating all the attention that he is currently getting from her. Hell, judging by the facial expression he has on it seems that he would rather be anywhere else than at that very spot.

Having dated him for a while now, you know the poor boy won't find it in him to be able to find the words to shut her down directly. That's where you come in.

Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself down before you mindlessly do something you would regret. Walking towards the two, Kenma sees you and his eyes immediately light up, begging you to help him out of the situation.

Grabbing his hand more harsher than you meant, you immediately begin walking towards the cashier section while completely ignoring the girl right there.

"C'mon, babe. I'm done getting everything."

Kenma blushes at the venom in your tone. He could feel the jealousy radiating off you and honestly? It's rather hot.

But he can't help but be nervous about what's going to happen to him.

---

"P-Please! i'm s-sorry!" He lets out another sob as you hit all the right spots in him with your strap. Due to the sheer size of it, it fills him up almost too perfectly, making him whine and whimper underneath you as you continue to pound his insides.

Tears brim his eyes as you brutally fuck him stupid. All he can do is lay there as pleasure courses through his body in waves making him unable to do anything without being shocked with pleasure seconds later. He's a pillow princess, really, but oh do you love it.

Mere minutes if not seconds after you entered the shared apartment between you two do you already have him trapped on the bed underneath you, one of your biggest straps entering and exiting him easily and quickly due to prep. His top half is still covered by a hoodie as you were too focused on revealing his bottom half.

"Oh don't worry, baby." You clench your teeth. Your thighs are absolutely burning but you don't dare stopping for even a second. You remember how touchy the girl was being with Kenma and you speed up your thrusts even more, jealously fueling your adrenaline. "I know you're sorry. Just gotta make sure that the next time that girl sees you-," you start to say. "Well the next time anyone has their eye on you, they'll see the hickeys on your neck and decide to leave what what's mine alone."

A shiver runs down Kenma's spine as your possessiveness makes blood run far down his body. His hands make its way into your back, latching on and digging his nails into your skin, making you hiss from the slight pain it causes. The grip you have on his hips is hard enough to leave a mark but it allows you to easily fuck in and out of him and be able to control the pace.

"You're mine, yeah? No one else's. Mine."

He whimpers as a particular thrust of your strap has him arching his back and letting out a almost pornographic moan. Fuck, he looks absolutely breathtaking right now.

"Y-Yes- fuck! I'm y-yours."

You latch your teeth onto his neck and bite down, making Kenma mewl out from the slight pain. Making sure to leave a few more bite marks and love bites, you lick a few to soothe the pain. You don't care if they only stay for a few days, knowing you would leave more in the near future.

"Fuck- i'm close!"

With that information, you switch from quick, hard thrusts to slower, deeper ones that make Kenma's toes curl and eyes roll from the sheer pleasure he's feeling. He lets out another moan.

"Go on, baby. Cum for me, alright?"

And with that, Kenma lets loose. Whines, moans, and whimpers fill the room as your boyfriend stains the bed and his hoodie with cum. You continue slowly fucking him to ease him down from his high and Kenma whines from sensitivity when you pull out, leaving him to clench around nothing.

"Good boy," you say, kissing his cheek. He blushes red from the praise, almost as if you weren't fucking his brains out mere seconds ago. "You did so good for me." You're about to leave to clean him up until he grabs your arm, stopping you. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Um... w-what about you though?" It takes a moment for you to process his question but once you do, you can't help but smile.

"Aw sweetie," you coo, making him blush even harder at the new pet name. "Don't worry about me, I'm just glad you enjoyed it."

As you go and get a wet towel to clean him up, he reaches to his neck and gently touches the hickeys and bite marks you've left there. Though it hurts as he slowly presses down on a bruise and he has to stop himself from letting out a whimper, he can't help but smile, a dark blush adorning his cheeks.

He's yours.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 5 months ago

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I'm not sure if you've answered this before or touched on the subject, my apologies if you have, but would a condom help protect you from most of the radioactivity of ghoul semen? Just a thought, because I've noticed a lot writers use Rad-X or RadAway as a catch-all to safe(ish) ghoul sex; whereas some say there's still damage to be done even with these. But have we considered a condom?!

WARNING: YET ANOTHER RANT ABOUT GHOUL CUM IMMINENT, BRACE FOR IMPACT

And thanks for the ask, Anon. I really do enjoy these ghoul biology questions.

I have touched on the effects of ghoul semen on humans before, largely in this post, but I didn't elaborate much on condom usage. We endorse safe sex here, but...well, let's just say there's a lot more demand for portraying no-condom fucking than there is for the opposite. For this reason, at least personally, I usually just use Rad-X and Radaway as a sort of catch-all since it's basically in-game magic. Plus, my readers yearn for the c r e a m p i e aspect of it all.

Besides, if I'm honest, I'm not convinced that a condom would be of all that much use when fucking a ghoul, at least an older ghoul.

I spent some time browsing through a few research papers and articles about how gamma radiation affects various materials to give a 'not completely bullshit' answer to this. I know a fair amount about how radiation can impact the body, but relatively little about how it can impact non-biological material. Turns out, it's quite hard on most things! Shocker!

I think the biggest determining factor about whether or not a condom would provide you any actual protection with a ghoul lover would be the age and transformation status of the ghoul. I've mentioned before how I theorize that they become more radioactive over time, even if they never enter a more advanced stage of ghoulification, like becoming a glowing one.

A newly-transformed ghoul would likely both have lower levels of radiation in their bodily fluids AND no sperm (as I elaborated on in my post about ghoul-fathered pregnancy), so a condom would really only provide protection from the mild damage and irritation that prolonged or repeated exposure to low-level rads would cause your vaginal/anal/oral tissue. Not to say that isn't helpful! No one really likes the idea of being all raw from mild radiation burns inside them, and sometimes you just wanna go a half-dozen rounds with your high-stamina lover with no stress. Besides, if you're not a ghoul yourself, less overall radiation exposure is an unquestionable good.

Older ghouls (and obviously those who are in more advanced stages of ghoulification), being more radioactive overall in this scenario, also have much more radioactive fluids. Obviously anyone who is pre-war would fall under this category, but frankly anyone who has been a ghoul for more than a few decades is probably gonna be pretty "hot" overall. Low rad-resistance/low endurance folks may need to strongly consider alternative forms of intercourse, especially if Rad-X and Radaway aren't available or sufficient. With partners like this, the condom keeping the semen confined inside it means it's effective in stopping things that have to actively work to infect you (sperm, viruses/bacteria, etc.), but radiation doesn't work like that. It can easily impact you negatively if you're simply close enough to the source of it without any direct contact. If I wrapped a polonium core in a condom and shoved it inside you, you would still get incredibly sick and burned, and I think essentially the same would apply to telling your older ghoul partner to use extant barrier contraception (condoms, diaphragms, cervical caps, etc.). Honestly, if they have a high enough rad level, they may just literally melt straight through whatever you're using.

It is possible that ghoul-friendly contraception could be created, at least in my opinion. But it would be complicated and difficult to find something that "ticks all the right boxes", per se. For obvious reasons, you wouldn't want a lead wool diaphragm or a cadmium-lined condom or anything like that. I understand there are a lot of different polymers/plastics that are resistant to radiation, and I'm sure that some of them are made of components that wouldn't necessarily be harmful to have inside you, especially since some of them are used to manufacture things like radiation PPE (personal protective equipment like gowns/gloves/shields/radiation blankets/etc.). However, I don't have a broad enough understanding to say for sure whether or not any of these polymers would make for the sort of material you could manufacture physical/barrier contraception from. I have a degree in a biology-heavy STEM field and not a pure-chemistry STEM field for a reason. Either way, I feel like it might be a little hard to get your hands on material like that, at least consistently, 200+ years after a nuclear apocalypse, unless you could find a way to freshly manufacture it. If you're going older in terms of your search for a ghoul partner, you're probably better off sticking to Rad-X and Radaway, overall.

If I, personally, were president in the Fallout universe, whatever funds that were earmarked for scientific research would be reallocated to figuring out how to mass-produce and distribute a ghoul-friendly form of contraception. I think it would be a great healing step for what remains of America if all the ghouls and all the smoothskins could get in a big pile and just fuck it out. Vote for me.

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luckyblackcatxiii · 1 month ago

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Hello! Sorry in advance if this has already been answered somewhere. I really admire the way that you design outfits for your characters and wanted to ask if there were any reference sources that you recommend for designing D&D-ish fantasy outfits. Have you just picked up trends/patterns over time? Are there a certain time periods or fashion eras that you like to emulate in your designs? Media that has inspired the designs? Thanks for sharing your amazing art with us!!

Hey there!

No apologies needed, you'd be the first to ask me this (that I remember in the last couple of years, at least)

I think my biggest suggestion to anyone who wants to design outfits for characters--fantasy or not--is to first do some studying on how clothing is structured, as well as historical and/or regional fashion. Whether that's taking a class or just going through various medias that cover the topic, such knowledge helps you get an overall roundness on the basics of how clothes work, how they can be applied to the human figure, and just why certain fashions became in vogue via the times, emotions, economies, psychology and culture they reflected. All which can then serve as inspiration and guidance on how to go about clothing your made up person/society/etc, because after all: not only do we dress ourselves to reflect our own individuality, but people have been doing that for generations before us. Whether it's the fabric used or the shape of the silhouette, clothes tell a story! And a lot of it is interesting!!!

Also, the more you understand clothing, the more believable and strong your designs will present themselves.

(You'll also suffer the curse of recognizing how inaccurate a lot of historical TV shows and movies are with their depictions of costuming, then have to stifle this down so as not be obnoxious to those around you! Yay!!)

When it comes to designing fantasy things though, the best part of drawing from reality and historic fashion is you can have references without the feeling of having to be entirely beholden to accuracy (while still--I should hope--being respectful enough to avoid borrowing more personal aspects of cultures who may not appreciate parts of their identity being used without knowledge/context applied). I often like to mix and match different time period/regional aesthetics and mesh them into something that becomes seemingly familiar yet unique enough to call my own, and it seems to pay off in the long run.

Aside from that, I like to keep in mind the practicality of an outfit--why is it being worn and what is its purpose?--while also making sure it defines the most important aspects of my character, as well as has a nice shape/sillhouette. After that, aesthetics, personal enjoyment, easter eggs, and overall fun make up the rest of the designing process. Be sure to indulge once in awhile, if not always if that's your vibe!

On that note: I personally like to depict western clothing between the 15th-early 20th century, with the Georgian and Edwardian era being my favorite. Though, thanks to my VtM game, I've definitely grown a deeper appreciation and affection for the 20s more 'recently' and with Curse of Strahd, I've been having a ton of fun getting more familiarized with Slavic and Eastern European clothing. I have a lot of CoS NPCs that need designing (and I'd like to do a fashion zine for Barovia someday, so I've been doing a lot of research as of late...)!

If I'd have to give credit to any media that's inspired my own designs, I'd have to say Odin Sphere (or any fantasy based Vanillaware game, really) is always there in the back of my mind when I'm tackling a fantasy look. I'm absolutely blanking on anything else, but i'm sure there's plenty of inspiration that subconsciously sits in my brain just Ratatouille-ing my hand when I decide to design things AHAHAH~ I'm sure once this is posted, it'll all come rushing to me...

This has gone on pretty long and I admittedly feel like an unqualified egomaniac after yapping as much as I have, but I hope this helps, if not offers some overall insight on my own process! Thank you so much for your inquiry and kind words, I'm so glad you enjoy my stuff and look forward to supplying you more in the future! :,3c <3

#lucky chatter #I'm the worst at talking about myself I'm so sorry #If I can just say: pinterests boards can be really fun and helpful but for the love of God check your sources #The PTSD that comes from decades of people mixing up the Victorian with the Edwardian era...

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horseimagebarn · 7 months ago

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Ok so thanks for the answer vis a vis the centaur situation I appreciate it a lot and I'm not trying to convince you to change your ruling but unfortunately you used the word taxonomy which triggered one of my damn neurodivergences. I hope you don't mind but my response will be to deposite these few paragraphs in your inbox I'm sorry in advance if this comes off as aggressive or condescending or just plain annoying I'm just sensing an opportunity to infodump to someone who might be interested in tbe topic so I'm seizing it I'm sure you know what it's like

Anyway there's a disconnect between pragmatism and scientific rigor that people are blind to which vexes me and biological taxonomy is a particular pet peeve of mine the biggest instance of it is crocodiles and alligators which are really the same damn animal for all intents and purposes but that's not relevant

Naturally when one thinks of horses one thinks of domestic horses specifically (Equus ferus cabellus) but I'd argue that certain pictures of donkeys (Equus africanus) look more like domestic horse pictures than certain pictures of Przewalski's horse (Equus ferus przewlaskii) despite the latter being classified as the same species and the former not

And I feel that for a horse image barn the resemblence of a picture to an archetypical horse image should be a higher priority criterion for inclusion than some criteria that biological taxonomy relies on like the presence of specific haplotypes which isn't even a word anyone knows and if you go to its Wikipedia article you get a definition of it that's not really relevant to this ask

So yeah in conclusion I wouldn't tie the in/ex-clusion of images to scientific taxonomy but to Vibes if I were the admin of this or a similar blog but I'm not and you are so you can like do whatever

Also I won't be submitting the centaur image I wanted to submit but can I still send it as an ask I like showing it to people spreading it around etc it's kind of cursed but also funny and I like it a lot and I understand why it's not horse enough to your taste but it's definitely horse adjacent and I want to share it

as a fellow animal wikipedia delver i agree that taxonomy is not the end all be all of the human perception of animals however what i meant to imply is that the differences between centaurs and horses are large enough to be considered taxonomical and are not debatable even in a taxonomical sense due to their many massive differences also i have posted przewalskis horses before as they are true horses and this is horseimagebarn not assimagebarn or centaurimagebarn even though i love donkeys just as much and would own a donkey over a horse any day

i did just take my adderall and am bored at work so i have to humbly yet lengthily disagree with you that taxonomy is not important in both cases presented while the crocodilian assumption you make has bruised my heart as i love alligators and i find them far cuter than crocodiles due to the differences in their jaw structure that makes their bottom teeth fit into their mouth instead of jutting out like crocodiles (which is one of the many actual and notable physical differences between them alongside choice of salt or fresh water etc) i wont get into that and will focus on horses since thats the point of this blog using actual punctuation and capitalization for the first time in this blogs history ill be referring to przewalskis horse as takhi as it is also known so i dont make a typo which i know i will

long ass (donkey pun) post warning

Taxonomy can of course be vague at times or muddied, but it is not an invalid study. All human knowledge is constantly evolving, and mistakes are inevitably going to be made, but that does not make our efforts invalid. It is beneficial for us to know how evolution works. Taxonomical differences are real and worth considering, even if mistakes are made sometimes. Two animals looking similar is not a valid reason to ignore their taxonomical differences, nor is it okay to ignore similarities because they look different—if we went by that logic, every dog breed would be a totally different species.

Speaking of, here's a little more on the whole appearance thing before we get into the science:

The other day, I was watching a video about the actual horses that existed in antiquity, and they are far more similar to takhi than you might think. I'll link the video if I can find it, apologies for a lack of a source on this right now, but the gist of it was that horses of yore were much shorter and stouter than modern horses. The tall, thin horse often seen in modern depictions of ancient time is inaccurate, as is the thick, muscular draft, which didn't become common until later on. Back then, people wanted horses that were sturdy—most people didn't care as much about specific breeds or having the hugest and prettiest horse on the block, especially when food to maintain larger animals like modern horses wasn't always guaranteed, and having such a huge animal could be dangerous and more difficult. Their horses were more similar to ponies than our big guys now, and ponies aren't a separate species. The selective breeding of horses to become taller and leaner made them appear way different from the takhi, but just like dogs, they remain extremely similar to those of their taxa despite looking different on the surface. For example, take a look at the ancient fjord horse breed next to the takhi...in fact, sometimes takhis are called Mongolian ponies! We can even see this in ancient art earlier in the horse's domestication:

Anyway, science:

Firstly, the takhi isn't wholly classified as the same exact species as the true horse, our domesticated Equus ferus caballus. Both Equus ferus callabus and Equus ferus przewalskii are considered subspecies of caballines, or true horses, meaning they're more like cousins (I know it's a cliche to say this, but I mean it), with donkeys and zebras as, like, their nephews twice removed. If the takhi was considered the exact same species as the domestic horse with no acknowledged differences, it would be considered a breed of horse, not a subspecies (though breeds are typically manmade, they are not always—see the word "typical" in the dictionary definition). This means that it does have recognized, distinct differences from the standard domesticated horse that have been taken into consideration in their taxonomy—it is not like the two are blindly considered the same exact thing.

Mistakes have been made in Equus taxonomy in the past, but continued research has led to a retaxing of the genus as early as the 1980s. In the 2012 review article "Discordances between morphological systematics and molecular taxonomy in the stem line of equids: A review of the case of taxonomy of genus Equus," by E. Kefena et al., a number of scholars reviewed the methods with which the Equus genus has been taxed in the past and how they have changed in the past few decades.

According to that article, equines are an incredibly plastic genus. They are very good at adapting to their environments, which led past taxonomists to overcount the amount of Equus species that existed in the past and therefore miscategorize the history of the genus in general. Many were actually just adapted versions of the same thing. This is what we see in the horse and takhi—they are similar but have adapted to their different environments and niches.

In 1986, two molecular scientists, George and Ryder, performed the first DNA-based molecular taxonomy on all living equus species, publishing their findings in the article "Mitochondrial DNA evolution in the genus Equus." By mapping equus DNA and constructing a phylogenetic tree, they were able to take a closer look at the actual genetic disparities between equus species.

George and Ryder found that "[In the mtDNA (mitochondrial DNA) cleavage map,] the percent sequence difference between E. przewalskii and E. caballus individuals was found to range between 0.27% and 0.41%. ... Overall, the amount of divergence presented here is small and not much greater than the 0.36% divergence reported for mtDNA differences found among the human racial groups (Brown 1980; Cann et al. 1984)."

So, horses and takhis are incredibly similar. Using these findings, they separated equus species into three clades: "One that groups the zebras, a second that groups E. africanus [African wild ass] and E. hemionus [Asiatic wild ass, aka the hemione], and a third that associates the true [caballine] horses E. przewalskii and E. caballus as a unit. However, as stated previously, the E. africanus-E. hemionus clade remains enigmatic."

They later state that "E. hemionus and E. africanus appeared more karyotypically [chromosomally] similar to each other than to other equids," hence why they were considered a clade despite being "enigmatic." Kefena et al. explain this weird enigma further, and, notably, compare it to the takhi: "Next to Przewalskii's horses, hemiones were the first species to be diverged from the stem line of extant equids, suggesting that they might be closely related to caballine horses than to asses, though they are monophyletic with donkeys than with horses. On the basis of these evidences, morphological resemblance between species doesn't guarantee genetic similarity between equid species." This means that asses and horses have distinct genetic differences that far outweigh those between takhi and domestic horses, despite the fact that donkeys and takhi look more similar. The hemione looks very similar to the African wild ass, and it is closer to it genetically, but it is not the same due to the way it evolved—it broke away from the general line earlier than any other ass. The takhi is the same; it diverted earlier than other horses, but remains very genetically similar—more than any other extant Equus species. And, even with the takhi's extra chromosomal pair, George and Ryder also found that they and horses were also very close karotypically, giving them incredible similarities both mtDNA-wise and chromosome-wise. Despite that different chromosome, horses and takhis can successfully interbreed and produce fertile offspring, unlike horses and donkeys.

Kefena et al. "MYBP" stands for "Millions of Years Before Present" Funnily enough, G&R also say, "There has been little to no dispute over the close relationship that exists between E. przewalskii and E. caballus; thus the addition of E. caballus to the E. przewalskii branch should be easily accepted." Which is so weirdly on the nose that I feel compelled to say that it's on page 544 so no one thinks I'm making it up. So, with their genetic similarities, their actually surprisingly similar appearances, and their sequential DNA similarities, the Przewalski's horse and the domesticated horse do belong in the same category when compared to other equines like donkeys and zebras. They're not identical, but they're in the same room of the larger equine house. And, check out the tarpan, Equus ferus ferus, another subspecies of Equus ferus and the most recently extinct of them all, alongside the current Equus ferus species (and a concept of the original Equus ferus pre-domestication by Cameron Clow on Artstation)! They're all friends:

Conclusion

you can send me centaurs if you want i just wont post them

#ask #horse #horses #horseblr #horseposting #horseimagebarn talking #long post #przewalski's horse #equus #equus ferus #equus ferus caballus #equus ferus przewalskii #taxonomy #horse facts #fun facts #dischorse

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dandylovesturtles · 2 months ago

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Now that 2024 is coming to a close:

1) Of everything you've made this year, which ones are you the most proud of?

2) What are a few of your favorite things (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

(Gonna apologize in advance that this answer won’t have specific links because I moved fast)

1. Well, this year I finished I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good, which was a major accomplishment for me! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written, and I was really proud of myself for sticking it out to the end. It got way bigger than I ever expected, and big thanks again to everyone who came on the ride with me.

Of the things I started this year, my favorite has been the emotional support water bottles AKA Room Fic. Kind of insane to think I came up with the first one while eating lunch and dropped all my plans for the afternoon to write the whole thing in one day lol! I hope to get the last followup done soon, I’ve just had a little trouble getting my mojo.

There’s another project I started this year that I hoped to have out already but maybe sometime in the first part of next year. I’m excited to share it when it’s done!

2. Oh boy I’ll try to get everything!

I of course enjoyed some ongoing projects this year, including Replica AU by @kathaynesart, Sep Leo AU by @dianagj-art, 2 Arms Left by @intotheelliwoods, Adagio in Green by @boxfullaturtles, and Empyrean Weeping by @cupcakeslushie! Also shoutout to the @tizeline Sep AU where Donnie is the most chaotic only child, and @vangh17a ‘s Wanderer comic which is beautiful and intriguing.

@remedyturtles broke all our hearts with Firefight this year and I had a great time teaming up during the AU Comp! Also LOVED their fic about third man syndrome, but I’m always a sucker for Leo and his papa.

I love everything @goodlucktai has ever written but I especially loved the recent A Team fics and also the Archer AU! Gio is so precious

On the subject of lost siblings, I am privileged to be the beta reader for @kiaxet ‘s fic Siblingquest. Cissy is also precious, and I’m really excited about Kia’s future plans for the story!

And there’s just been a ton of great art this year from so many people, including @e-turn @trilobitepunch @koolaidashley and so many others. I know I’m missing so many people but this community is just full of talented, amazing artists!

And finally, my biggest love and shoutout for this year goes to @untitled-tmnt-blog , who not only makes GORGEOUS art pieces, but who made me a whole physical BOOK for IMBI!! Seriously the most touching thing anyone has ever done for me. PLEASE check out untitled’s art (and writing!) because everything she does is amazing.

And so many others who have talked with me about this fun show and who listen to me rambling about my endless AU ideas. You are all so cool. Here’s to 2025!

And thanks for the ask!

#rottmnt

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vintersang · 21 days ago

Text

Hello, everyone.

I'm alive!

I wanted to make this little post to announce a small hiatus. My creativity energy has taken bit of a dive, so I have not been extremely active on here... As you can most likely tell. My activity has dropped, but I am planning to quietly focus on drafts whenever my inspiration hits me. I have noticed my struggle to write has spread over to other hobbies, such as my joy to create edits... Which is, quite frankly, one of the more unfair things to happen. With this in mind, I have decided to take a short break in order to try to nurse my creativity back to me.

Anything that I finish in my drafts (including my inbox) will be queued up once I actually complete something. Naturally, I want to thank everyone that is still waiting for me. I hate making people wait on me, so I feel a bit extra bad. I wanted to start this year off more strongly, especially since I really want to be on Elsa, but my energy has been quite low lately. For the time being, I will be focusing on trying to re-spark myself. I miss being active on my dash, but I am struggling.

Looking at my drafts, both threads and incomplete asks, makes me feel really disappointed. I know writing is a hobby, but seeing all of it does stress me out a bit. I wish I was a faster writer, but I'm not. I love the rush of excitement whenever I finish something on this blog since I have come to enjoy learning more about my Elsa. But lately? The drafts, I think, are a bit stressful for me to look at whenever I come back onto this blog. Don't get me wrong, I love the interactions so much. The issue is the fact that my writing pace is so slow, especially when muse is being fickle. I enjoy my time on here when I'm active, but I dislike my writing pace. The worst part of my overall writing pace and my unpredictable muse, I think, must be the realization that I make people wait.

Many of my mutuals, especially the mutuals from my Homura blog, are very patient with me. Logging on here to see that I still have my mutuals is, well, really comforting to see. I know all of my mutual friends will be patient with me when they do come across this post on their dash. I adore that for them, truly.

My biggest enemy when it comes to making people wait even longer is, well, myself. No one else. Intrusive thoughts can be a big pain, that's for sure. Right now, I am here to update everyone on what's going on. I don't know how long the hiatus will last, but I will still work on my drafts. My biggest first concern will be finishing my dust-covered threads, then slowly make my way through my inbox. Any unanswered DMs will be answered, though I do apologize for any delays in advance. To those who have reached out to me on my Discord to merely chat, thank you for having me in your thoughts. My social battery can easily get overwhelmed, so it's easy for me to get lost in my own little world...or forget to respond back, which is a bit awkward.

To all of my new followers, welcome to my blog. I know things are quiet right now, but I am hoping to change that in the near future.

For anyone who is reading this, here is an adorable-looking gift!

My ancient phone died at some point this month, so I had the chance to upgrade my phone from an iPhone 6s to an iPhone 13. It was stressful when it happened, but I am happy to have a better phone because I get to take better pictures of my dearest cat. Tabitha is my precious cat. She is currently purring in my lap as I type this post out. Isn't she adorable? My motivation to write (as well as open up Photoshop to work on late gifts) have been really low lately, but... Tabitha is still happily purring in my lap.

If you made it to the very end, I have a small request:

What is one of your favorite books?

(If you answer, please explain why! Talking about books always makes me excited, no matter what kind of slump I'm in!)

It can be a series or a novel, but I would really like to know. Why? Because I'm planning to slowly focus on reading my own books. You see, I have a system: If I cannot write, then I bounce over to my next hobby to try to do something. My motivation to create edits often helps me get back in the mood when it comes to writing for Homura, but... Elsa is more trickier, apparently. Alas, my issue right now is simply my lack of motivation to write anything.

So, what do I do when I can't create?

I focus on reading because I'm always reading something. With this little knowledge, please send me some books. I prefer fictional books. Fantasy is my main genre of choice. I also love historical fiction. You get bonus points if it's some kind of fantasy and historical fiction. I adore faeries (including mermaids) in my books, but there doesn't have to be faeries in the books.

Overall, I want to hear about your books as well. I'm going to try to focus on reading while I'm away because reading always helps me to write something, even if it doesn't go anywhere. Reading is always a big comfort me since I can always rely on it, hehe.

Thank you for reading this far!

#❛ ✧ ┊ can you face what the river knows. ooc.#❛ ✧ ┊ strike for love and strike for fear. psa.

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

Text

The Archer | Chapter VI: The Great War

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

Summary: Your secret meeting with your dad brings out the worst in you and your mate. The RDA go after one more tulkun in the beginning of the biggest fight of your lives - for your lives.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 9.7k words

Warnings/notes: lots of angst, mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: I apologise in advance for the next few chapters, but I am feeling feelings and you have to feel them with me!! This chapter took a little longer than expected, but I am trying to not kill myself juggling everything I currently have going on. As always, thank you so so much for engaging with the story, and replying, liking, reblogging, following etc etc. (all the good things). Ily all and can't wait to share the rest w you soon xoxoxo

You drew up some good faith treaties, I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely, but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin’, screamin' from the crypt

Telling me to punish you for things you never did, so I justified it

You were hyperventilating a little, entering the tent that you now called home and revelling in the silence, which you needed desperately to make sense of what just happened. They did it, they killed a tulkun. You’ve heard from the Metkayina that they were doing that, far away from the village, but now they did it here. You knew instantly it was a ploy to drive Jake out, drive you all out, and you wondered meekly if Jake would answer. Even if he didn’t, you didn’t think the Metkayina would just let this slide. Your dad, your dad left you a message. And you lied about it. Why would you do that? What in tarnation possessed you to do something so stupid? You lied to Jake, to Neytiri… to Neteyam.

You were mad, mad at Jake that it had to come to this point. You told him, you fucking told him months ago. You should have never run, ever. You told him they would find you eventually, you told him innocent beings would get hurt as a result of hiding. Death would follow you wherever you went because the RDA wouldn’t just give up, and they had very little to lose. People were disposable to them. You, on the other hand, all had everything to lose.

You were mad at your father, for yet another atrocious act. You were mad that he desecrated any good association you had with his memory once again and made you hate him, hate yourself for having any connection to this cruel, sick, twisted individual. You were mad at your mother, who chose him, who allowed him to be your father, who protected and defended his honour and memory your entire life and in death, and you wondered what spell he put on her that she was so so blind about this man.

You should just tell them. Tell your family and take them with you and just kill him. Your heart sank as you considered that he might kill them on the spot if he notices anyone else with you. Maybe they could take the ilu? Maybe you and Jake would be enough to take him down. You didn’t like how much your brain was screaming in pain at the thought, at watching your father, that you’ve never even met before, lying dead on the ground, bleeding out in front of you. Why should you care? Why do you care? Why did you lie? It was painful, near damn unbearable having to admit to yourself that you wanted to see him, you wondered what he had to say for himself, this man that has been an almost mythical thing in your life, that gave you self-loathing issues you can’t outrun and haven’t outgrown, this man, this man, this man.

Maybe it was a trap. Maybe he wanted to draw you out to kidnap you, to use you as leverage to draw Jake out. Maybe he knew from Spider how close you were to the Sullys, knew you were bound to the hip with Lo’ak, knew you were mated with Neteyam, and that you would perhaps bring them along and he can get a Sully kid to threaten and manipulate the former Olo’eyktan. It was a good plan, you thought, except you would go alone, and you were more than capable of killing anyone who tried to get in your way. Your dad would learn that soon enough, as you were determined to finish this, once and for all, and free yourself of this burden and this nightmare that has plagued you far longer than anything else has.

Neteyam came into the tent before anyone else did, looking at you curiously.

“Are you alright? You seemed quite shaken after seeing the tulkun.”

Calm yourself. You couldn’t lie to Neteyam. It was one thing having kept that you were sick, it was one thing to lie by omission. You couldn’t lie to your mate, but you had to try.

“Can you blame me?”

He sighed, then approached you, pulling your body into a warm hug. His hand went to the back of your head, softly stroking your hair with the pad of his thumb in a calming motion. The guilt was eating at you, deep and unpleasant at his trusting, loving nature. You sniffled into his chest, soft tears escaping you and landing on him. You were crying because you were scared, because you felt like you were betraying your family, the only family you’ve ever known for a man who could be killing you tomorrow, or using you to kill them. You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

“It’s alright, Atan. We will be alright. Dad will come up with a plan.”

You didn’t say anything, afraid that any words out of your mouth will be a dead giveaway and Neteyam will be able to see right through you, as he usually could.

The evening was quiet and tense, as your family returned to the tent after helping Ronal and Tonowari. There will be a funeral for Ro’a, and traditional rituals will take most of the morning tomorrow as a final farewell to the tulkun and her calf. Luckily, Tuk slept in between Neyriti and Jake tonight, and with a big lump in your throat and a thumping heart, you went to sleep nestled in Neteyam’s embrace.

You waited patiently for everyone to be fast asleep around you, room filled with deep, regular breaths. You knew as soon as Neteyam fell asleep, as he twitched when he did, then started snoring softly in your ear. They were all light sleepers, except for Tuk and Lo’ak, trained soldiers, ready at a moment’s notice for trouble, ready for battle. You had to be careful, you had to put all that Na’vi stealth training to good use.

It took a while, but eventually you made it out, carrying a handgun that you managed to remove silently from the tent, without having alerted anyone, and pushed passed the village into the mangrove forest where Neyn was. When you were sure you were past the point anyone could have heard you, you let out your calling cry, and you watched as your beautiful banshee made her way to you, cooing gently at your sight.

“Did I wake you, sweet girl? I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

You got on her, making Tsaheylu, and felt concern in her as she took you away in the dead of night, and without your mate to accompany you. She was a little scared, as she was very rarely on her own, Seze always keeping her company on such late nocturnal rides.

You rode for a while, loving the feeling of the warm air on your face, loving being back on your ikran, that you used to fly with every day in your old life and you sighed soundlessly, knowing an ilu will never compare to this feeling right here, to this beautiful creature you knew was your spirit sister. You thought about Neyn, and how you would feel if you lost her, if she was killed, and you felt her wobble a little mid air as the intense emotions on your mind engulfed you both. You tried to calm yourself for her, so she could keep a steady pace and a straight path. She was here, she was okay, there was nothing to worry about.

As was made clear in the crude note, about 10 kilometres east of the village was a small island with nothing on it that you could reasonably see except a deserted beach and a couple mangroves. It was small enough to know it was empty and safe, big enough to shield you both from any suspecting eyes.

A man was waiting for you. An Avatar, he was tall and muscular, dressed in the same camo outfit as that night months ago, the night you almost died at Alien hands, just like so many Na’vi did before you. He was beautiful, you thought. Even in this form, you could recognise the traits you got from him, and you knew then anyone would be able to tell you were related, no matter which body you inhabited.

“So it’s true.” You heard yourself saying, trying to reconcile the thought that this man was indeed your father, brought back from the dead.

“What exactly are you? Are you an Avatar? You’re not controlling a body with your mind through a neurolink, so I guess Avatar is a bad name for it. Abomination would be my preferred trademark name, if you’re taking suggestions for T-shirts or action figures.”

He wasn’t speaking, just looking at you intently, and you swore you saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. He came closer to you. Your hand picked up the gun you had tucked in your loincloth and pointed it straight at his face.

Your thumb went to the hammer, that you pulled down. With the gun loaded and your index finger on the trigger, you saw the man flinch briefly, but he recovered immediately and continued to stare at you, at your face and features.

“You have your mother’s eyes.”

Your hand slightly trembled on the gun.

“Stop. Whatever father daughter reunion you had in mind, you’re gonna be disappointed. I’m here to make you answer for your crimes.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. Fuck, that’s where you got that from.

“If you were here to make me answer for anything, you would’ve brought Jake Sully with you, or any of the kids you were with that night.”

“You mean the night you almost killed me?”

“Also you had no way of knowing this wasn’t a trap, but you came alone anyway. You put yourself in harm’s way to meet me here in secret. Just like I did.”

You don’t really have a comeback for that. So maybe he wasn’t some jarhead dropout after all. Didn’t matter. He’d be dead in a few minutes anyway.

“I know you must have a million questions, just like I do. Can you please lower the gun so we can talk?”

“I only have one question for you. How do you sleep at night?” Your eyes welled up, angry tears like needles, prodding, begging to be released. “You killed a Tulkun. Just like you killed so many Na’vi. How do you live with yourself?”

“I didn’t kill the Tulkun -“

“Do you think you’re gonna get away with this on a fucking technicality? Do you think that telling me it was all Quaritch is going to make this fucking better somehow?”

He looked pained for a moment, gaze shifting from your face to the ground. He looked embarrassed.

“You’re right, it doesn’t.”

A silent sob escaped your lips. “Why? That was someone’s spirit sister. She was a beautiful creature, she didn’t deserve to die.”

“Quaritch wants to bait you out in the open. He hoped that if he did that, you would attack.”

You hissed loudly. “And what did you do? Watch?”

He recoiled a little at your words, embarrassment still ever present on his face.

“Pretty much.”

“That’s just as bad. Inaction is just as bad.”

“Inaction is necessary when you’re using them to find a daughter you have never met. I had to take that risk, I had to say nothing, and I don’t fucking regret it. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Not for long. I have nothing to say to you.”

“You do. I know you do, because you’re here. Please, just give me a chance. I need a chance.”

He sounded desperate and your welled-up eyes stung now, trying so hard to keep the tears in, trying to be strong, trying to not humour him, to not show him that this was tearing you apart, tearing apart all of the stitches of your patched up pretty new blue heart.

“Please, put the gun down.” Your lips trembled and fingers twitched on the trigger, and with a loud curse, you lowered your arm.

“You know, I could have killed you that night. I killed two of your little friends, had you in my shot. It would have been an easy kill.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Your eyes moved from him to somewhere behind him, thinking hard, trying to justify it to yourself as much as him. It took a few minutes of introspection to figure out you had nothing.

“I don’t know.”

He moved from where he was and sat down by the beach, in a tiny enclosure that was shielded from areal view by the trees, but still overlooked the beautiful sea, flowing back and forth with soothing waves. He looked up at you expectantly, and you moved to a rock a little further away from him, facing his body, prepared for any possibility. He sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“So, how did this...” You pointed with your gun, that you unloaded for the moment, all over his blue body. “...come to be?”

“When I first came to Pandora, part of the contract stated that if I die, I give permission for them to put my consciousness in an Avatar body so they can revive me in case they need me again. They did the tests and took the chip that contains…well, me… right before the last battle.”

“Why would you agree to that?”

“I didn’t really have a choice. I needed the job, I would have signed anything, done anything they asked.”

“Why?”

He didn’t look at you as he spoke, but to the distant sea, fiddling with his fingers.

“I had a daughter. Back on Earth. Her name was Sarah. She was everything to me, and she got sick. I worked for the Air Force at the time, but they let me go after I sustained an injury in the war they said deemed me unfit for service. The money I was getting on vet benefits was not enough, not enough to save her, not enough to matter. Then I found a job offer for the RDA, a mission to a beautiful far away planet. The pay was phenomenal, and I knew I was good enough to be accepted. I had accolades up the wazoo, and was desperate - exactly what they needed. They gave me the first pay check before we took off, and I had to have faith that the money was going to be enough to save my baby girl. When I came out of cryo, six years later, I found out she had died.”

You saw light reflecting a tear dropping on his face, and your heart hurt painfully in your chest. You have wondered for years, your whole life, what could have possibly gotten this man to give up a life on Earth for such a despicable cause, and now that you knew, you didn’t know if it was relieving you of your guilt or not. On one hand it did, because it was as good of an excuse as it got, but on the other hand, it amplified it at the horrid ways you have thought about your dad all these years. You thought him a cold-hearted killer, a monster. Turns out, just like Jake, just like Neteyam, just like you, he was just willing to give up his own life, his peace of mind, for someone he loved.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiled a sorrowful smile at you. “It was a long time ago. But anyway, when I found out, I was in pieces. Whatever heart I had left, my little baby took with her. I was jaded and broken, and wanted nothing to do with this world. But these men and women, the soldiers I met, they became my family in time. They pulled me out of a very dark place, and in turn I gave them my undying loyalty and whatever little was left of my soul. I knew then I would protect them with my life, and with the life of the Na’vi, if needs be. It wasn’t right, but it is who I am. Who I’ve been since as long as I remember. A soldier, an army man. I fight for my country, I fight for the job and for the squad, and I don’t complain, and I don’t question it. It was a good way of living, easy to digest, it helped me sleep at night.”

“And then I met your mother.” His smile changed from one filled with sadness and pain to a happy one, a melancholic one, filled with love and wonder. “She was a shock to the system, to every system. She was kind, and loving, smart and curious, soft and patient, but also the most badass, brave, strong person I knew. It was such a complex mixture, I didn’t think anyone like that could exist. But she did. And, somehow, she saw me. She saw more in me than what I thought I was, she saw who I could be, who I think I wanted to be all my life without ever realising. I fell so deeply in love with her, I could feel my heart beating again. She was everything to me.”

The tears were falling freely down your face now, and you didn’t have it in you to stop it, didn’t have any power over your own mind, who had trouble understanding what it was going through, all the information it had to come to terms with in such a short span of time.

“Spider said she died.” His voice broke as he said that, and you tried to compose yourself from becoming a sobbing mess.

“Yeah… she did. When I was ten. Cancer.”

“Ovarian?”

Your eyes snapped to him, not being able to stop the shock on your face.

“Her sister and grandmother died of ovarian cancer, too.”

You didn’t know that. She has never told you that.

“Are you an Avatar? I didn’t think it was possible for them to make Avatars on Pandora.”

“I’m not an Avatar, technically. I used to be, but I did the consciousness transfer, just like Jake did almost 20 years ago.”

“Why?”

You sighed loudly. You didn’t know whether you could trust him, whether he would use the information you gave him to betray and hurt you. But at the same time, you have waited for this chance your whole life. You have wanted to speak to the man in front of you, wanted to bond with your dad that you never even met, and so you had to try.

“Multiple reasons. From an objective point of view, my human body wasn’t made to survive this world. I was stuck in a lab for 18 years, or stuck to an oxygen mask. It wasn’t ideal. From a subjective point of view, I fell in love. With this planet, with the Na’vi… with a boy. My mother and the scientists made me this Avatar so I can live my life the way it was meant to be lived: giving myself fully to it. So when I felt ready, I committed by becoming one of the people for life.”

“There has to be more to that story. I know we don’t have a lot of time, but please, just tell me everything you can.”

So you did. You spared little detail about your mostly miserable existence, hoping that it would make him feel like shit that he didn’t try harder to be part of your mother’s life, that he didn’t forsake his kinship bond with the murderous soldiers and ally himself with the Na’vi when he had the choice, perhaps ensuring his survival, and the presence of another parent in your life.

“Jake found me in the woods, and brought me to Norm and Max, but then my heart stopped for 30 minutes. In those 30 minutes, I saw her. I saw mum, and she told me the truth. That the cancer wasn’t what really killed her. What killed her was your death, that she was never able to get over. She was so depressed, so lost, she chose to die than become one of the people. I realised then I did the exact same thing throughout my whole life, and that I wanted more time, to heal, to love, to live. So Eywa gave me a second chance at life. And I took it. I cured the virus, I became Na’vi, and now I am here. That’s pretty much it.”

Gideon’s head was spinning with the influx of information that was being thrown at him. It was so hard, hearing everything, hearing everything he’s missed. It was hard to deal with knowing this girl sitting in front of him, beautiful and blue, a strong Na’vi warrior, was his, and that whoever she was, he had no part in it. His heart constricted hearing how much pain you have had to endure, how hard your life has been, and know he was directly responsible for at least some of it. His mind echoed with your words about his Jo, about how she died, about whyshe died. The hatred he felt for himself, for his actions and inactions quickly reached an all-time-high, and he almost prayed you’d change your mind and point that gun at him again and finish the job.He couldn’t speak, so he just stared into the abyss, hoping that words, any words would come to him, knowing they won’t, knowing no words would be enough, no words would ever erase or change the damage he had done, the anguish you’ve had to endure.

“This... Neteyam. Is he a good kid?”

He saw you smile softly, almost bashful at the mention of this boy who was in a lot of your stories, who seemed to shine a light on your otherwise dark life.

“He’s the best. We’ve been through… a lot. And it’s not always been easy, in fact, for like a year and a half he was a lot of the reasons I hated this life, I wanted it to end. But whatever’s ever happened between us, our differences, our fights, it’s never been out of lack of love. On the contrary. I think both of us love each other a little too much for either of our sakes.”

“Does he treat you well? Do they all… the Sullys, the village, do they treat you well?”

You smiled again, at him this time, and Gideon swore his whole body stopped - your smile, your eyes, the glimmer in it… Jo. His Jo was still here. His Jo lived so well within you, every ounce of you a walking reminder of the woman he loved more than life itself. Soft, and brave, and strong, and smart and curious… like Jo.

“They treat me well. They always have. I was the one who pushed them away for years, but their love and desire for me to be in their lives never wavered, and I could not be more grateful. They gave me a family, and a place of belonging. They gave me a squad, and I would do anything for them.” Your expression shifted suddenly, to a hard one, one directed at him. “Anything.”

“Why are you here? Are you here to sell me out? Are there people spying on us, tracing back where I came from so they can find Jake? Are you here to kidnap me? You either set me up, or you took a big risk leaving that message for me, hoping no one would see it, hoping no one could read it. Which one is it?”

He hated how the first thing you thought of and associated him with is vile and cruel, and underhanded, but he couldn’t blame you. He didn’t have the best track record, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing here right now.

“If I wanted you kidnapped, or found, you would have been kidnapped, or found. Do you think I don’t know you and the Sullys are in Awa’atlu?”

You mouth fell agape, eyes wide and ears pushed back at the new piece of information. He saw your tail stop moving, a sign of alertness and fear, and watched as you cocked the gun and pointed it at his face again.

“Who else knows about this? When did you find out?”

“No one else knows.”

“Then how would you know? How did you figure it out?”

“I still have a few aces up my sleeve, kid. Your finger’s not on the trigger, so I don’t think you’re planning on shooting me yet. Can you please lower the gun?”

“What exactly prompted this little change of heart, if this is even what this is?”

Gideon pulled out the rock that he found in his makeshift grave and watched as your expression deepened from surprise and fear to shock, amazement.

“This did. I found a little spot in the forest, where it turns out I died. I found the recording, I saw Weinfleet, that son of a bitch, kill me. Although I guess that’s fair considering I did the same to him. I found my body, that you buried. And this rock.”

Gideon looked at you, at this girl who was undoubtedly his, undoubtedly Jo’s, with awe displayed all across his features. He couldn’t believe you came from him. He wishes he could have seen you as a little girl, as a human, he is so sad he didn’t get to see you take your first steps, or say your first word, or shoot your first gun. He wishes more than anything he could have taught you. He loves you, he realises. He loves you, despite so little time, because you’re his, you’re Jo’s, the best of both of them.

The man saw you thinking intently, tugging at the inside of your lip so hard he was scared it was going to bleed. He didn’t know what to expect from you. It was easy enough to read you as your face mirrored your feelings as if he had a direct link to your thoughts through it, but somehow you were still an enigma to him. He’s never seen Sarah grow up, he’s never had to be a dad to a young woman, a fierce warrior, a scientist who thinks about everything, calculates three moves ahead. He wondered sadly if there is anything left for him to teach you - you seemed as self-sufficient as they come, and a twinge of jealousy for the Toruk Makto blossomed in him, for getting to raise you, for getting to see you grow up, for helping make you who you were right now.

“So what now? I mean it’s a long shot, but maybe I can convince Jake to let you come to Awa’atlu, we can go and ask the Olo’eyktan, we can say you had nothing to do with it, it will be hard, but maybe if I -“

“I’m not coming with.”

“What?” There was no more confusion or focus on your face, just anger, pure unadulterated rage.

“I have to see this through. I have a better chance of protecting you if-“

“Oh, fucking stop. You’re really going to play the martyr act til the end, aren’t you?”

“I can protect you from them, I can find out wh-“

“YOU CAN'T FUCKING PROTECT ME. I DON’T NEED YOUR PROTECTION, I DON’T WANT YOUR PROTECTION.”

“I need you to prove to me you’re better than I think you are. I need you to show me, that despite all the fucking horrendous things you have done, my mother wasn’t a fool to trust you. To love you.”

“Don’t talk about your mother like that, girl.” Gideon was panting now, angry with you, with how quickly you were dismissing a perfectly rational plan for your emotions, for the desire to not part with a grudge you’ve held on to for 19 years. He understood it, but there was a line, and Jo was that line for him, always.

“You go back, everything you have said to me, everything is moot. Because you have a chance to be better, to do better, you have a chance to fight on the right side once in your life, and you’re not going to take it?”

“I’m not going to repeat myself. I have a better chance of protecting you, protecting the people you love… your family, from there. I can figure out what their plan is and I can warn you.” He pulled out a radio and receiver from one of his pockets. “Take it. It’s set on a different frequency than what they use, or you and the Sullys use. It can be for us. Wear it, I will contact you if anything happens, and you will know and you will be safe.”

You hissed loudly at your dad, tears pricking painfully at your eyes.

“Are you really going to pass on an opportunity to protect your family, your mate, because of your ego? I know you want everything done your way and you think you are always right, and you know what? You probably are. But this is more important than this. Just take this.” He took your hand in his and opened your palm and placed the radio and receiver in it. He closed your fingers in a fist, and let you go. “I will be in your ear, I will be there to tell you if anything’s wrong. I will do my best to fight this fight the way I think is best, the way my gut is telling me to. And when this is over, I will come. And by then, I hope I will have proven myself at least enough to be worthy of a second chance. I want to get to know you. I want you to know me. And when this is over, maybe you’ll want to. But for now, I have to go. And so do you.” He looked up and you saw that eclipse will be over any minute. Shit. Time got away from you. Neteyam would have woken up by now. Fuck.

You saw him turn around and call for his ikran. You were shocked he had passed the Iknimaya, and you made a mental note to ask him about it when you saw him next. Just for research purposes, you weren’t curious for any other reason. His ikran was beautiful, dark blue with hints of gold and pink all over, almost like the opposite of yours, the yin to your yang. You called Neyn and she came quickly, batting her wings at you playfully. She made a new friend, it seems. You sighed as you got on her and made the bond.

“Is Spider alright?”

“He’s fine, he’s integrated at well as could be expected. I think him and Quaritch are bonding.” You didn’t like the sounds of that, but you said no more on the subject. You were late enough as it is.

“Prove me wrong. Please.”

“I will, kid.”

You both took off at the same time, in the opposite directions, and you turned around and watched him with tears swiftly running down your cheeks, blown away by the warm air hitting you in the face. Dad…

As you made your way back, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute with so many thoughts that were fighting for dominance. The top contender was concern and mind-paralysing fear at the thought of seeing Neteyam and knowing he will know, know you were gone, know you couldn’t lie, you couldn’t even try because he would know that too, and the fight that would ensue as a result. When did things get so complicated?

You were relieved to not see any lapis blue Na’vi anywhere in sight when you dismounted your ikran, and you quickly started making your way to the village when a voice, the voice, stopped you in your tracks, like shackles to your feet.

“You know, when we saw that sign on the tulkun yesterday, I felt your heartbeat in your wrist increase to three times its normal speed. I could feel your panted breaths in the back of my neck. I knew something was wrong. You may be able to lie to my dad, to anyone else, but you can’t lie to me, Atan.”

Your breathing was laboured and shallow, and you felt scared to turn around, to face him. He came so close to you, his breath was making the hairs on your back stand up like needles, hurting you from the forcefulness of his presence, from the anger that was so palpable it was pulsating all around you.

“What did you do?”

“Neteyam…” you turned around, and you regretted looking at him. Because this wasn’t your mate, not anymore. This was the perfect soldier, the Olo’eyktan in the making, the Na’vi warrior, and he was looking at you like you were a stranger to him, like you were the enemy.

“What did you do. I need to hear you say it.” His voice was calm, too calm and it reminded you of the knife he always kept on his waist, sharp and deadly.

“Neteyam…”

“How long has this been going on?”

“How long has what been going for?”

“This, you mingling with the fucking enemy, you lying to my family, to your family.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, as you took in the accusations your mate was carelessly throwing at you, like pebbles on the surface of the sea.

“I know you are upset, and I am sorry I lied, but please don’t jump to conclusions.”

“The message on the tulkun was from my dad. It was the first time I have made contact with him. I haven’t been mingling with any enemies. I just wanted to see what he wanted. I have a gun, I was prepared to kill him.”

“Your dad is a fucking murderer, he could have killed you, he could have kidnapped you. It could be a trap. We could be fucking swarmed by the RDA in the next 20 minutes and it would all be your fault.”

You couldn’t believe him, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Neteyam was many things, but he wasn’t cruel and he definitely wasn’t so quick to blame, to draw unwarranted conclusions. You have known he has been acting a little strange for a while, and you knew there were things eating at him that he is yet to share, but you hated how instead of communicating them, he was lashing out like a wounded animal. You felt anger bubbling in your stomach and you tried really hard to keep it at bay, knowing that both of you attacking each other will not be productive whatsoever.

“Neteyam, stop. You’re being unfair. I know you are mad at me, and I know you have been upset about things you have refused to talk to me about for a while, but I will not stand and watch you attack me.”

“You are right, it was risky, and I am sorry. But I’m not fucking stupid. I was careful, I made sure nobody followed me as much as I possibly could. I didn’t tell you because I was scared if you came, and it was a trap, you were a much bigger prize than I was.”

“Oh, that is such fucking bullshit. If you told me and I came, you had double the chance to defeat whoever was waiting for you, whoever left you the message. But you didn’t want that, did you? You seem to like saying one thing when you mean another, don’t you?”

“Ok, what the fuck has gotten into you? This is so not about me leaving.”

“No, it IS about you leaving. It’s about you lying. It’s about how every time I think we’re in one fucking place, it turns out we’re about five steps behind.”

Neteyam watched as you stretched on the grass of your clearing, taking deep breaths in with your eyes closed, peacefully enjoying the outside, which you never really saw anymore. It will be your 17th birthday in a couple months, and Neteyam was wondering sorrowfully if he will get to be there for it. It’s been eating at him, the realisation he needed to leave, leave your life forever, but he was painfully grasping at every chance to see you, still be with you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you, and soon, he’ll have to live through it.

Recently, your relationship changed. You have always been close, so close the whole world around you felt like just a playpen for your souls alone, but recently, things… evolved. Everything about it felt heightened, like it reached new zeniths Neteyam never thought anyone would be able to feel without collapsing from the intensity it pulsated through his veins. He’s always loved you, Neteyam mused. His whole life, there was not a moment he has not loved you.

But as he watched you on the grass, soft shiny skin, so unlike his own, your tiny figure and those eyes that, despite being closed, Neteyam knew every inflection of by heart, he knew he felt more, that he fell in love with you - deeply and irrevocably. It wasn’t a recent development, either, it has been going on for a while, but in light of everything he knew he had to do, Neteyam knew it would hurt even more to vocalise these thoughts or even acknowledge them for himself. Only hurt could come of whatever it was you two had, and there would be no cure for the calamitous heartbreak he would have to go through when he did decide to leave for good, so the less he thought about you two together, your body on him, his lips on yours, spoken confessions and wondrous nights - the better.

“Hey, do you ever think about kids?”

“Kids?”

“Yeah, about having kids. About the future, about little Neteyams running around the village, one day bound to inherit your titles, and your beautiful soul and your endless good looks. ”

He blushed at your comment. He has, Neteyam thought. Multiple times. He thought about a family, about them running through this clearing, about their mother singing to them with that incandescent voice and worn-down guitar, and then he had to stop thinking about it, because it hurt, it took him out, the pain of knowing it was never going to be possible. It nauseated him, the idea of another woman, a woman he’d have to love and give himself to, a woman that wouldn’t be you, and his children that wouldn’t have your eyes, or your hair, or your propensity for being a lovable know-it-all.

“Not really. It’s still a lifetime away. I’m just trying to enjoy each day as it comes along.”

Neteyam watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows and eyed him inquisitively. You were so tiny, you had to stretch your neck to look at his face.

“Liar. You’re not a carpe diem kind of guy. You think about everything. You told me you had your whole future planned out when we were like seven.” You got up and walked to where he was sitting on the ground, back against the bark of a tree. When you were on your feet, your face was at the same levels as his, so you got really close to him, so close he could feel your breath on his face, and tried to ignore the thumping heartbeat and shivers going down his spine at your proximity. It’s gotten easier in time, being this close to you, as you have always been a touchy person, so he had no way of avoiding it - not that he would want to avoid it.

“So why are you lying to me, Ne-te-yam?”

Neteyam gulped, and he wondered if you knew - what this was doing to him, what you were doing to him. Wondered if you felt the same way, if you also felt dizzy when he was this close, if you also felt your knees weaken in his presence.

“I’m not lying… I used to have everything planned out, but not anymore. It’s a little more complicated, this whole life thing, than I thought it was going to be when we were young.”

Your gaze shifted from him to somewhere behind him, and you looked sad and deep in thought, subtle pain obvious in the way your eyes glistened with new-found tears.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you ever think about kids?” Your eyes found his again, and you looked hurt by his comment, and the unshed tears found their way down you cheek, that you wiped immediately. You turned around and started walking towards the river, and you kneeled next to it, looking at the way the water flowed, peaceful and determined.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny… you asked me, so I assumed it’s because you were thinking about it.”

“You know I can’t think about kids, Neteyam. I can’t have kids, unless I have them with Spider.” You rolled your eyes and laughed a joyless laugh and he felt anger envelop him just at the mere thought. Agonising images were flashing through his mind, of you two, a much better fit for each other, compatible in biology and bodies and he felt suddenly sick and regretful of ever asking.

He faintly saw you look back at him, and you clarified - you knew, knew he needed it. “I’m never having children with Spider, Neteyam. I was just saying, unlike you, the prospect is never in the cards for me. You will go off, find yourself a suitable mate, beautiful and smart and kind and fit to be a Tsahik, you will have a life and a family. I won’t. I will never have a tiny me running around, I’ll never have my parents’ genes, and everything I’ve learnt, and everything I am live on.”

You sighed, and the tears were falling swiftly in the palms resting upwards in your lap.

“Would you? If you could? Have kids… with someone else?”

You smiled a small sorrowful smile, and looked up at the sky, almost as if you were praying to whoever could hear you.

“If I could… yes. With… someone else.”

“Just fucking admit you don’t want to have my kids. You don’t want a family.”

And the hits keep coming. So that’s what this is about. The guilt you felt about lying to him and sneaking out was quickly dissipating and being replaced with rage, burning heavily and brightly, wanting to leave nothing but destruction in its wake.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Why? Why are so desperate for those pills, why do you hate the thought of having a baby with me so much? Do you have any fucking clue how that makes me feel?”

“NO, Neteyam! No, I have no fucking clue, because you won’t fucking talk to me. You have some nerve to hold these feelings inside after months of me asking you what is wrong, of KNOWING you are not ok, you LYING about it and then exploding in my face and demanding an explanation in this way.”

“You know what? You are right. I don’t want a baby with you.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you knew it was too late. You knew you made a mistake. Because while the words were true, they were also not the whole truth. And as you watched your mate’s heart shatter in front of you, yours did too. It was too late to stop, though, as the rage was eating at your insides, begging to be released.

“Why in God’s name would I want a child with a man who continuously puts himself at risk and will most likely get themselves fucking killed in the nearby future?! I grew up without a parent, Neteyam. I grew up without a dad. And I grew up with a mother who was heartbroken because of the lack of dad, and killed herself when I was fucking 10 years old. Do you have any idea what that does to someone? Do you have any idea the hell I have lived through my whole life? The holes in my chest nobody was able to fix, not even you, they’re still there. They’re patched up nice and neat, as well as anybody could hope for, but they’re still there. They will always be there. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, much less on my child. So no, I do not want a baby that will grow up an orphan, that’s why I am so fucking desperate for those pills. And if you bothered to ever share with me, share what’s been bothering you, you’d know this.”

Neteyam looked broken, eyes on you but not really, unfocused and distant, and you tried to calm down, tried to make words come out that could fix your previous ones. Your eyes were frozen on his, frozen on the tears forming in them, watching as they fell down his cheek and onto his bare chest. Eventually, it’s like he snapped back to life, and he started moving, not sparing you a second look. As he passed you by, you grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him. He removed his arm from your grasp like it burned him, like being touched by you was poisonous, and you winced at it, knowing deep down you deserved it.

“Neteyam… I have dreamt about having a family with you for so long I can’t even remember when it started. I dreamt about our children, careless and free, happy and loud, running around the village, swimming in our clearing. I dreamt about teaching them guitar, and watching you teach them how to hunt or shoot a bow. I dreamt about them growing up and feeling sad about how quickly time is passing but being grateful for being able to watch it go by. I dreamt about their Iknimaya, and flying together for the first time. I dreamt so many things, for a long time my dreams were the only things keeping me going. Even when you were gone, the dreams, they never left. I had to live with knowing they would never come true for so long before I got the Avatar. I had to live with knowing I’d have to watch you have someone else’s babies, and it killed me. It killed me.” You were crying now, your chest convulsing in pain at the memories, at the present, at seeing Neteyam’s back tense and rigid, of not being able to look into his eyes. “When I got my Avatar, and we started being close again… when you kissed me for the first time, when you held me in your arms before my Iknimaya, I had flashes, flashes of hope, that despite my sickness, maybe those dreams weren’t impossible anymore. They were quickly shattered, of course, but they were there. Then after my consciousness transfer, the humans came back, and I was scared. I was scared of having a family during an active war. I thought we both agreed on that. Then watching you continuously put yourself at risk for Lo’ak, watching as you almost died in that train battle, it snapped something in me. My entire life, all the hurt and the pain of being orphaned came back full blast. Neteyam, if you die, I will too. And I don’t want to put an innocent being, our innocent being through that.”

“Please, try to understand.”

You watched as Neteyam left you without another word and you were unsure if you would ever be able to fix this and you couldn’t help clutch your chest to try to alleviate the pain that was so strong it was radiating all throughout your body, just like one sentence, over and over. Did I lose him? Did I lose him? Did I lose him?

Neteyam walked towards a village like a ghost, like zombie, like a body without a soul, or a mind, just robotically taking step after step, trying to figure out if he could wake up, if this was a nightmare, if it was some sick joke.

I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you.

Crack after crack, the pieces of his heart shattered like a broken jigsaw, like the one he did with you and Kiri when you were children, huddled together in the recreation hub. So he was right. He was right, his insecurities, however ridiculous they seemed sometimes, they were not without merit. You didn’t want his children. Not children, just his children. Because of who he is, because of his life choices and his desire to protect his family, his brother, you didn’t want him. Neteyam heard you justify it, and maybe somewhere deep, deep inside of him, he knew you had a point, that your own unique circumstances entitled you to this view, that you weren’t being unreasonable, but the hurt, the pain, the anguish and betrayal, they ran deeper. What was he supposed to do now? How would you ever be able to resolve this?

He noticed absentmindedly that there was commotion in the village, screams and wails coming from the Olo’eyktan’s tent. He felt himself walking towards it, with no real input from his mind, which was numb and in its own isolated, desolate little world.

He heard Tonowari’s imposing voice, screaming over the booming voices of the villagers. As he approached, he saw his family, his father in the middle of the crowd, desperation all over his features.

“This war has come to us! We knew about the hunting of our tulkun people, but it was over the horizon, far away! Now, it is HERE!” Neteyam saw the Metkayina poke their tongues out in a war cry, and he knew what he feared, what his family feared, is finally here. There was no avoiding it, the war with the Sky People, no avoiding the deaths that followed. Fear enveloped him, momentarily replacing the anguish you put in him, and he wondered where you were, if you had run away, as you used to like doing when you were young. Were you in danger?

“Look, you have got to understand how the Sky People think.” His dad was trying to force his voice through the ululation, trying to get them to see reason. “They don’t care about the great balance.”

“WE DON’T ANSWER TO SKY PEOPLE.”

Neteyam couldn’t help his voice from speaking. “Listen. Listen to him.”

“They are not going to stop, this is only the beginning. You have to… tell your tulkun to leave. You gotta tell them to go far away!”

“Leave?!” The Tsahik look disgusted with his dad, and he knew the Metkayina would never understand. None of them will, because they have never lived through what the Omatikaya had. They had no idea the depth of the cruelty, and lack of morals that plagued the aliens. They had no idea the loss his village suffered at their hands, and the sacrifices his family had to make.

“You live among us and you learn nothing!”

“WE WILL FIGHT TO PROTECT OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS!”

“No no no no! IF YOU ATTACK, IF YOU FIGHT, THEN THEY WILL DESTROY YOU!” Pointing at Ronal’s pregnant belly, his father continued. “They will destroy everything that you love!”

“Hear my words!”

Like an out-of-body experience, Neteyam heard himself speak yet again. “Listen to my father. He speaks the truth.”

The Toruk Makto picked the red impaling rod they found on the tulkun yesterday, got up to where the Olo’eyktan was so he was towering above everyone else, and pointed it for everyone to see.

There was quiet all around him now, the villagers watching his dad carefully, with focused eyes.

“You tell the tulkun that if they’re hit by one of these, they’re marked for death. And call for me, I’ll silence it. Saving their lives. That’s all that matters, right? Saving your family.”

“Tell the tulkun.”

“Go, go!”

Ululating can be heard all around as the Metkayina hurried and dove in the water, rushing to warn their brothers and sisters. Neteyam’s gaze shifted instantly to Lo’ak. He wouldn’t…

He would, it turns out, as Neteyam saw his baby brother hurrying out of the tent. He followed in his footsteps, knowing very well what Lo’ak was intending, knowing he had to stop him, no matter what.

Neteyam watched as the younger Sully was sneakily placing a saddle on his ilu.

“No way you’re running out today, baby brother.”

“I have to warn Payakan about the pingers.”

Neteyam was in no mood for this.

“No. You have got to keep your skxawng ass here.”

“He is outcast. There’s nobody to warn him but me.” Neteyam saw Lo’ak getting aggravated, the way he always got - his brother had no control over his emotions, never had, always ready and more than willing to explode at the slightest perceived slight.

“Why do you always have to make things so hard, Lo’ak?”

“No, you mean why can’t I be the perfect son like you?” Neteyam’s heart took yet another beating, and he was unsure how much longer it could continue going in light of today, in light of everything it has had to suffer. First you, now Lo’ak, it seems everyone he loved was taking turns kicking him until the breath was knocked out of his lungs, until he would be unable to stand back up.

“The perfect little soldier. Well, I’m not you!”

The anger overtook Neteyam, who made his way so close to Lo’ak he was towering over him, a dark expression marring his features.

“I’m not you. He’s my brother. I’m going.”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“He’s your brother?” He pulled Lo’ak by the arm as he was turning away, speaking through clenched teeth. “No, I’m your brother!”

The conversation was interrupted by Tsireya and Ao’nung, both of whom jumped from their ilu and onto the platform they were on.

“Lo’ak!”

His brother took the opportunity that presented itself when Neteyam’s attention shifted onto the two siblings to escape his tight grip and jump into the water, immediately leaving towards Three Brothers Rock, where Payakan was.

Neteyam didn’t think of anything else besides saving Lo’ak in that moment, and, as he called for his own ilu, he finally knew in his heart that you were right.

You were flying, faster than you should be, considering the rain pouring all around you and the fact you could barely see a few meters in front of you, but you couldn’t stop. Because if you stopped, you’d have to think, you’d have to deal with the consequences of your actions, and that would be too much, too painful. Neyn was worried, as she could also not see, but she trusted you to guide her, she trusted you to keep her alive - her worry extended to you as well, to the horrid mood that seem to plague you, for the deep anguish in your soul that was making her cry loudly. You tried to calm her down, petting her gently.

“Tam tam…”

You have been going for a while now, longer than you knew you should have. You had little idea where you were, and where you were going. You didn’t even know if you could go back. Would you be able to face Neteyam again? Would you share a tent, would you ever be able to fix this?

You were so harsh, harsher than you needed to be. You hated his predisposition for following in his brother’s dangerous steps, but you promised him you’d be there to fix it. You told him you didn’t want to change him, that you would be there to patch him up. You told him you’d protect him. And instead of doing that, you struck him where it hurt most. You both had a habit of hurting each other, both had a habit of shooting to kill when in pain. So much has changed in between you, so much has changed in your worlds except the one thing that should have, that one thing that needed to.

“Kid, are you there?”

The voice pulled you out of your pondering, a voice you now recognised as your dad’s.

“I’m here. Over.”

“I don’t have a lot of time. The ship is hunting another tulkun. A solitary one.”

Oh, no… It can’t be.

“We’re about two klicks out. Kid… the Sully kids are there too.”

You felt all air being pushed from your lungs, unable to breathe in, feeling yourself becoming faint at the lack of oxygen and maddening heartbeat deafening you.

“I will try to stop them. I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”

Breathe. Try to breathe.

“Hold your position. I’m coming. Get me a gun. Over and out.”

Kiri. Tuk. Lo’ak…. Neteyam. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like icy water, waking you up, focusing your mind. You had no time to go back. You willed Neyn towards where you thought Three Brothers Rock was, and prepared yourself to fight for your life, for your family’s life, for your dad’s life.

Your mind flashed to your fight with Neteyam, knowing you had to do everything in your power to make it right, not knowing that fight was the last conversation you will ever have with him before both of your lives are changed - forever.

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