#but old fears die hard 😔

[topsee-turvee]

On Friday not only do I have to participate in a press conference, which I have never ever done (yikes!), I have to do it alongside the mayor (double yikes!)

[d0llcuries]

HIIII 🫶 i wanted to ask if i could request a neteyam x omatikaya readerrr where she’s caring for him while he’s healing from the bullet so it’s like just a bit after the war (bc in my head he didn’t die 😔😔😔) and she’s checking up on him making sure he’s okay distracting him from pain/the situation hopefully that makes some sense just some cute stuff like that hehe. (im delusional 💓)

THANKS BABE

KISS YOU BETTER

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: healing is a process. a slow, lonely and frightful one. you do what you can to be there for him, forever thankful to eywa that he still has breath in his lungs.

author's note: i am the world's fattest dillydallyer, i fear. bear with me folks please and thankss!!

neteyam’s chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, his skin too warm under your palm where his heartbeat drums, faint, beneath layers of gauze and healing paste. the evening light, watery and red through the fibers of the marui pod, filters down over him, casting a glow that makes his blue skin look brighter.

a faint lustre of sweat lies at his temples. you can’t tell if it is the heat or the strain of healing that makes him look fragile, but it is unsettling. it feels like months have passed since that day. the bullet. the blood. the scream that ripped from your throat like you could tear the world in half with it.

he's been in and out of it for days. sometimes, he wakes with a shudder, his fingers twitching as if he’s reaching for his knife or his bow or something to hold onto before his muscles relax and he lays dormant once again. you wonder, not for the first time, what he dreams of now. if he’s still out there, somewhere between life and death, between the stars and the ground, or if he’s here, with you, feeling the soft pressure of your fingers on his skin, the warmth of your breath on his neck. you wonder if he feels the way your hands shake, if he knows how scared you are, even though you don’t say it.

“yawne,” he murmurs, voice raspy, cracking around the edges. it’s the only word he seems to have the strength for lately. my love. you could hear it a thousand times, and still, it would twist your insides in knots, the feeling churning beneath your ribs like roots digging into soil that’s too dry to give way. he says it like it is his only bind to the world.

the air inside the tent is sticky, thick, a little too sweet with the musk of old herbs and the iron tang of blood. you can taste it on your tongue as you breathe, cloying, like when you bite too hard into a mango and the juice drips down your chin, half-spoiled, but still too good to stop. the world is settling outside the night drawing in like a slow breath and inside, the hush of it, the weight of it, sinks into your skin, pools behind your eyes, heavy and aching.

his lashes cast long shadows across his cheeks, his lips chapped and parted as he pulls in uneven breaths. you move carefully, your hands trembling just a little as they skim over his ribs, up to his face, cradling his jaw in your palms. he feels fragile. your body aches in ways you can’t describe, the knots in your muscles from sleeping beside him, always curled up in awkward positions, always watchful. your knees are sore from kneeling too long, your neck stiff from leaning against the wooden posts of the tent. but all that discomfort it feels so small, so inconsequential, in the face of his suffering.

you stroke his hair back, letting the braids slip through your fingers one by one. the roots are damp, curls matted against his scalp. you hum a little under your breath, some half-forgotten melody your mother used to sing when you were small, when the days felt longer and the nights less lonely. the sound barely reaches your ears, swallowed by the thick air, but neteyam stirs, just a fraction, his lips twitching like he's trying to smile, trying to remember how.

dried blood like rust staining the fresh bandages you’ve wrapped around him. your hands know the routine now. the careful unraveling of cloth, the soft hiss of his breath when the cool air touches the wound, the gentle pat of the herbs pressed to his skin. you move like you’re in a trance, like this is a dream, and maybe it is. maybe none of this is real.

you press another kiss to his lips this time, barely more than a whisper of touch, but it feels like a promise. i’m here. i’m staying.

you trace the lines of his collarbone, the curve of his jaw, your touch light, as if you’re afraid he’ll shatter under your hands. you won’t leave me, you think, pressing your lips to the hollow of his throat, you can’t.

you kiss him again, soft, featherlight kisses that brush his skin like a promise, like a prayer. and with each one, you hope—this one will heal him. this one will be enough. but hope is like the wind, you think. it slips through your fingers no matter how tightly you hold on.

so you lie there, listening to the sound of his breathing, the faint rustle of the tent, the hum of the forest, and you wonder how many more kisses it will take before he’s whole again.

his presence is a tether, thin as it may be, binding you here. holding you together, even though the world outside feels as though it has unraveled completely. you sit beside him, legs curled under you, skin tingling with exhaustion. your bones feel like they might fold in on themselves, but none of that matters. wake up.

a sound escapes him. his lips move—just the faintest twitch, but it is something. he is here.

“neteyam,” you whisper. saying his name and it aches to let it out.

his lips part, a dry rasp of breath slipping through, and you reach for the gourd beside you, lifting it to his mouth. the water pools in the curve of his lips, slow and steady.

“drink,” you murmur, your voice catching on the word.

he drinks, the water moving down his throat in quiet gulps, each one easing the tightness there, smoothing the lines of strain from his face. you watch the way his throat moves, the tension softening just a little. when he is done, you lower the gourd, your thumb brushing against his lips, catching the drops that linger there.

your breath catches in your throat as neteyam’s eyes flutter open, the softest sliver of gold peeking through the lashes you have been watching so closely, day after day. your heart leaps before you can even stop it, a wild, untamed thing in your chest, and you do not know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. your hands hover above him, trembling with the need to touch him, to pull him into you, but you stop yourself, knowing how fragile he still is. every fiber of your being is vibrating with joy, your body a live wire of emotions, but you hold yourself back, afraid of overwhelming him, of hurting him.

“nete!” you breathe, the word coming out as half-laughter, half-sob, and you are trembling with the effort it takes not to throw yourself into his arms. your fingers brush his cheek, feather-light, as if he might disappear if you press too hard. the ache in your chest is too much, too bright, and all you can do is smile down at him, wide and breathless, blinking back the tears that blur your vision. he is here, really here, and you do not know how to contain it, how to quiet the storm of happiness that surges through you. you lean down, your forehead just barely touching his, and whisper, “you are awake!�� your voice shaking with the weight of all the things you cannot say, all the joy you cannot express without breaking apart.

“you should be resting,” he says, and the sound of it makes your breath catch again. you have heard this voice so many times, but now it feels new, fragile.

you let out a soft laugh, half surprise, half relief, your fingers drifting through his hair, catching the strands that have come loose from his braids. “so should you,” you whisper, feeling the way his body hums beneath your touch, the way his presence pulls you in like the tide, slow and unrelenting.

he makes a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and it vibrates through your bones, quiet and deep. his hand tightens on yours, just a little, but enough. enough to remind you that he is here, that you are tethered to him still.

“i missed you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them, too heavy with meaning. it is not just the missing of these last few days, these long, aching hours. it is the missing of something bigger, something that stretches across time. something that you cannot name.

he hums again, and you feel it in the space between your ribs, that soft agreement. you missed him too, even though you were never really gone. his breathing slows, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there is peace on his face.

“you are going to get better,” you whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it true. as if the words might stitch him back together, might pull him from the edge of whatever dark place he has been hovering near. you press your lips to his brow, kissing the smooth skin there, untouched by the pain that has tried to claim him.

another kiss, this one softer, to the tip of his nose, then his jaw, your lips trailing down to the place where his pulse beats steadily beneath the surface of his skin. he is still here.

you press your mouth to that spot, feeling the rhythm of his life under your lips, and you think, “you know,” you murmur against his skin, “if kissing you could heal you faster, you would be running by now.”

his chest moves with a low sound, something between a chuckle and a breath, and it fills the space between you like music. it makes you smile, makes your heart stutter and swell, and you nuzzle into him, your face pressed against the warmth of his neck, your hand splayed over his chest, trying to anchor yourself in this moment.

“you are doing a good job, then,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it is full of something light, something playful.

your heart leaps at the sound, and you lift your head to look at him, to see the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. his eyes are still closed, but there is life in him now, a flicker of the boy you know—the boy who makes you laugh, the one who makes you feel like the world is not such a terrible place after all.

“then i will keep doing it,” you say, pressing another kiss to his cheek, your smile wide and soft, full of too much feeling.

“do not stop,” he murmurs, and it is almost playful, almost light, and you can feel your heart swelling again, pushing against your chest like it might burst.

you press your forehead to his, your body melting into his warmth, and the world outside feels so far away now, like it cannot reach you here.

“i will not,” you promise, the words slipping from your lips like a vow, like something sacred.

the silence returns, but it is full now, heavy with the weight of everything you have not said, everything you do not need to say. his breathing steadies, slow and rhythmic, and your body sinks into his, your exhaustion finally easing, replaced by something softer. something that feels like peace.

and in this quiet, in this small, fragile moment, you feel it—the hope that has been hiding in the corners of your heart. you feel it blooming, slow and tentative, but there, growing in the space between you.

because he is still here. and you are still here. and that, somehow, is enough.

the sun was unforgiving, but you dug your fingers into the sand anyway, letting it gather beneath your nails, small grains cool against the heat that pressed down on your skin. the ocean sang before you, waves rolling softly toward the shore, brushing against your toes before retreating, almost shy in their touch. you tilted your face up toward the sky, letting the light cascade over you, trying to soak in its warmth, trying to let it chase away the heavy ache in your chest.

you didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there, but it didn’t matter. you came here often now, to this spot just beyond the village, where you could hear the water breathing, feel the sand shift beneath you, and pretend, for a moment, that everything was right. you dug your fingers in deeper, the sensation grounding you, pulling you back from the thoughts that threatened to drag you under.

neteyam was healing. slowly, carefully, but the wounds were still fresh, the memory of his blood staining your hands still too sharp. there were nights you woke with that same metallic scent in your nose, the image of him falling, so still and quiet, burned behind your eyelids. even now, as the sun beat down on you, your mind circled back to it—over and over.

you curled your fingers into fists, the sand slipping through them, leaving nothing but the feel of it sticking to your palms. you hated this. this waiting, this stillness. but you hated it more for him. neteyam wasn’t made to lie still. he was built for movement, for the hunt, for the wild freedom of the forest and sky. now, he was trapped. and in a way, so were you.

your eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the sea stretched out in endless blue. there was a celebration tonight—the metkayina’s way of welcoming a new season. you remembered the last one, how the village had come alive, vibrant and wild. you’d danced with neteyam then, under the stars, laughing as the ocean crashed around your feet. everything had felt light, easy. before.

now, the thought of going felt… wrong. how could you join in their joy when so much of yours was tethered to him, back in that marui, lying still and quiet? how could you celebrate without him by your side?

you pushed yourself up slowly, your body resisting the movement, as if it too was reluctant to leave this spot. you wiped the sand from your hands, shaking your head at your own thoughts. no neteyam, no joy. it was simple, really. without him, nothing felt complete.

the marui was bathed in soft light when you returned, the warm glow of the afternoon filtering in through the slats. it was quieter now, the village settling into the rhythm of evening. inside, neteyam lay where you left him, though his eyes fluttered open as you stepped closer. kiri and tuk were still there, but kiri shot you a small, tired smile, relief evident in the way her shoulders sagged.

“thank you,” she murmured, barely audible, as she stood, tugging tuk up gently. tuk looked up at you, her eyes bright as she offered a tiny smile, her fingers brushing your leg as she passed by. “he’s all yours.”

you nodded, giving her a grateful look before she slipped out of the marui, tuk trailing behind her, the sound of their soft footsteps disappearing into the distance. and then there was only the quiet. the kind of quiet that settled easily between you and neteyam, comfortable, familiar, as if it had always been this way.

you knelt beside him, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, studying the way the light played over his skin. his breathing was slow, steady, and for a moment, all you could do was watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twitched slightly as if he was reaching for something just out of grasp.

“they are gone?” his voice broke the silence, soft and low, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“they are gone,” you confirmed, your hand instinctively reaching for his cheek, fingers brushing over the warmth of his skin. it was a simple touch, one you found yourself craving more and more, needing the reassurance of his presence, of his life beneath your fingertips.

he leaned into your touch, his smile widening just a fraction, though it didn’t quite chase away the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes. “good.”

for a moment, you just sat there, letting the quiet stretch between you, not needing to fill it with words. you had said everything already, in the days following his injury, in the long hours spent by his side, watching over him while he healed. the words weren’t important. this was. being here. being with him.

the soft hum of the village outside broke the stillness, the faint sounds of preparation for the celebration beginning to drift into the marui. laughter echoed from somewhere far off, the rhythm of drums picking up in the distance, the promise of festivity hanging in the air. but you didn’t care for it, not tonight. not when neteyam was still here, still recovering. the idea of leaving him behind, of being anywhere without him, felt impossible.

“the festival,” he murmured suddenly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. his eyes opened fully now, locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. “you should go.”

your brow furrowed in confusion, tilting your head slightly as you searched his face. “why?”

“because you should,” he replied, as though the answer was obvious, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite name. “you have not been out… you have not done anything in forever.”

“i do not need to,” you said simply, shrugging as though the thought had never occurred to you. because it hadn’t.

he shifted slightly, discomfort flashing briefly across his face, though he hid it well. “you should nkt miss out because of me. it is not fair.”

you blinked, the frustration flaring just beneath the surface. how could he think that? how could he even suggest that any of this was his fault, or that you were missing out on anything at all? he was here. and that was enough.

“neteyam,” you began softly, your fingers brushing over the curve of his cheekbone, trying to soothe the tension you saw building there. “i have fun wherever you are. it does not matter what is happening outside.”

his frown deepened, like he didn’t quite believe you, like he was still carrying the weight of guilt for everything that had happened—for being hurt, for making you stay. but you didn’t press him further. you knew he needed time to understand. you weren’t missing anything. the world could celebrate all it wanted outside; you’d remain here, tethered to him, with him.

the rest of the day unfolded in small moments. the kind that didn’t need words to fill them. you stayed by his side, sometimes talking, other times letting the soft sounds of the village drift in from outside, the lull of the ocean a constant, gentle presence. he watched you in those quiet moments, his eyes following you as you moved around the marui, his gaze lingering as though he needed the reassurance that you were still there, still with him.

the sun was low in the sky now, casting everything in hues of gold and pink. the sounds of the festival had grown louder, laughter mingling with the rhythmic beat of drums, the clinking of shells as decorations were strung along the walkways. the energy outside was palpable, the village alive with celebration, but inside your marui, the quiet remained.

neteyam shifted again, his body protesting the movement, though he masked the discomfort as best he could. his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the marui, the faintest trace of music filtering through the air.

he turned back to you, his gaze more focused this time, more determined. “go get something to eat.”

you blinked, your brows knitting together as you stared at him. “what?”

“food,” he repeated, his tone light but insistent. “from the festival. go grab some.”

narrowing your eyes, you studied his face. he hadn’t let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes in the past days, and now he was practically urging you to leave. “what are you planning?”

“nothing,” he replied. “i am hungry. go. please?”

your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unconvinced, but you rose to your feet anyway, giving him one last look before slipping out of the marui. the air outside was cooler now, the night settling in around you, and you could feel the pulse of the village as you made your way toward the center, where the celebration was in full swing. your mind already drifted back to neteyam, wondering what he was up to, why he was so adamant about sending you away. it wasn’t like him. not now, not when he needed you.

the food spread along the long, low tables is almost too much to look at, piles of bright fruits and roasted fish, grains and herbs twisted into fragrant shapes, everything vibrant and rich, as though the night itself has bloomed into this feast. your fingers brush over the cool surface of a carved bowl, feeling the delicate grooves, the weight of the work that went into every small detail. you carefully fill your basket, trying not to disturb too much of the display, slipping a few extra pieces of fruit between the flatbread and smoked meats, thinking of tuk’s bright eyes when she sees what you have brought back. the thought brings a smile to your lips, but it is fleeting, tempered by the pull of responsibility that sits low in your stomach. neteyam is still weak, and you know he will not eat unless you bring him something.

“you are not staying?” tsireya’s voice is soft but lilting, a note of surprise carried by the night air as she steps toward you, her hair catching in the lantern light, strands of it glowing like spun copper. her eyes are wide and kind, her arms laden with shells strung together on thin threads, swaying with the easy grace of the ocean. she leans in, “you are always leaving so quickly. you should enjoy yourself tonight.”

you smile at her, tucking the basket closer to your side. “i wish i could,” you say, and it is the truth, though it feels like a half-formed thing on your tongue, like something left out in the sun too long. even as you speak, you feel the quiet distance between you and the festival, like you are watching it all from the other side of a glass wall. tsireya’s face softens, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes, but before she can say anything else, tuk comes bounding up, her small hands tugging at the hem of your skirt, her face lit up with excitement.

“you have to stay for the dancing!” tuk’s voice is bright, her breath coming quick from her running. she looks up at you with such earnestness that it tugs at something in your chest, the way only a child can, her wide eyes reflecting the shimmering lights around you like she is holding the stars themselves. tsireya gives you a look, one that is all gentle encouragement, a soft nudge in the direction of the night’s festivities, and for a moment, just a moment, you consider it. staying. letting the music and laughter carry you for just a little while, letting the world slip away for a few hours. but then the weight of the basket shifts in your hands again, grounding you back to reality, and you know you cannot. not tonight.

“another time,” you say, your voice softer now, tinged with a quiet apology you hope they will understand. you brush a hand over tuk's cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. “i promise.”

you returned as quickly as you could, stepping back into the marui with the scent of roasted fish and fruit clinging to the air. but the moment you walked inside, the food forgotten in your hands, you froze.

neteyam was standing.

his body was trembling slightly, one hand gripping the wall for support, but he was standing, his eyes bright with determination, his grin wide and boyish as he watched your stunned reaction.

“neteyam,” you whispered, barely able to speak, the shock freezing you in place. “what are you doing?”

“we are dancing,” he said simply, his voice soft but firm, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. as though this wasn’t a miracle.

you shook your head, taking a hesitant step forward, torn between wanting to scold him for pushing himself too far and being so overwhelmed with love for him you thought you might burst. “you should not be standing. you—”

but before you could finish, he reached for you, his hand catching yours gently, pulling you closer. “come on. just for a while.”

the music from the festival floated through the air, the soft, distant beat of the drums like a heartbeat, slow and steady. you let him guide you, your hands finding their way to his waist, careful not to press too hard, not to disturb the bandages still wrapped around his middle.

he moved slowly, his steps tentative but deliberate, and you moved with him, letting the rhythm carry you both, swaying gently in the small space of the marui. his breath was warm against your skin, his forehead resting against yours as you danced together, the world outside falling away.

“this is all i need,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “just you.”

you pressed your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his skin against yours. your heart swelled in your chest, the love you felt for him spilling over, too big to contain.

“you are all i need too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your arms tightening around him.

and as the faint music played on, you stayed there, swaying together in the dim light of the marui, the world outside forgotten, everything you needed right here, in this moment, in each other.

[rainbowywitch]

Hey, can you read my message and take a moment?🇵🇸🇵🇸 I really need help saving my family from war. I want to live in peace and security like everyone else. I want to be able to sleep without fear that even a small donation can save my family. Please help me

https://gofund.me/b4d9068c

Vetted by . @el-shab-hussein @90-ghost @nabulsi

Please share/reblog our voice, donate to save our lives Believe me, every contribution, no matter how small, helps to survive 🙏

Are you waiting us to die so that you can feel or do what needs to do ?! 😔

To whoever is reading this…. Hello, my name is Jehad Abuhamda. I’m an American/ Palestinian who is seeking for your support in helping me get my close relatives out into safety. My relatives consist of a family of five. Ahmed Abuhamda ( father) Fatin Abuhamda (Mother) Sama Abuhamda (6 years old) Loai Abuhamda (3 years old) Yousef Abuhamda (7 months old) Since the attack on the 7th of October, and the start of Israeli reprisals, their daily lives have gradually fallen apart. Their whole area was targeted and by the grace of god, they were able to live for another day. They lost everything. All around them, tens of thousands of people have died. They have managed to go to Deir Al-balah, which is the supposed safe zone yet it is also under bombing. But like all the survivors of this war, they are facing incredible amounts of hardship like lack of care, diseases, shortage of food, and most of all continuous bombing. From what my Relatives are writing to, it's clear the situation is deteriorating. Like you, I feel angry, sad, and so powerless. My relative lived a hard life after having is right hand amputated from the remnants of Israeli explosives in a previous war. Despite that, it did not hinder him from working in order to provide for his family. But now that he has lost his home, and with the worsening living conditions, He has decided that it is best to leave for the sake of his children. The reason we are wanting to raise $50,000, is due to the price of passage into Egypt. 1 adult costs $5,000 1 child costs $2,500 As I said before they are a family of 5, two adults and three children. The remain money will be for them to restart their life. From renting an apartment to cloths, food, schooling hopefully when they are able to register, appliances and basic furniture, website taxes and exchange rates. I very well understand that this is a large amount money, but together we can make it happen. My relative is an electrician/ cable technician with many years of experience. He is very resilient will hopefully be a will hopefully be able to find a job easily in his new environment. Every share on the social networks, every donation will count, even the smallest. Thank you for reading, and please share to all your friends. UPDATE 7/24/24 I want to thank each and every one who, so kindly donated towards my goal to help my close relatives evacuate the Gaza Strip. I will be doing updates on their situation with photos of them, and hopefully relocating to a safe country once they are able too. The situation in Gaza is very hard right now since the I*sraelis have complete desecrated the Rafa border crossing. The only way for them to hopefully leave, is by the war ending. I pray for all the family’s who have Been persecuted by this war. And to you, and your family’s who have so generously donated.

[deepwithintheabyss]

2, 10, 17, & 28 for the fanfic author ask game 💖💖💖

2. Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

If you'd asked me before my Trust bleeds Red reread I'd have answered that one, but now all I can think is how I wanna rewrite it 😔

I haven't really thought which other fic that would leave my fav?

10. Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

There certainly are some pairings that I haven't touched, I think JayRoyTim is amongst them, but also Harley/Ivy+Steph and or Cass I had some neat ideas, TimTalia, JanetTalia, the Parent Poly (in any combination BruceJackWillies is still on my mind, as is the moms)

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

Coming back to a few old wips and realizing that the quality is way better than I thought. For "Rock Hard Tension" and the current project.

It's not that I thought it was bad, I just didn't remember it being anything outstanding? So it was a pleasant surprise

28. What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

This one is a mean question, I have a ton of angsty ideas, and I couldn't tell you which one it would be. As I promised you I'm going to go with one of the real bad variations of (one of many) Zombie AU's I had.

This idea started with me reading some Zombie AU's, and in them it's "common" that Jason can be immune to it. It made me think about one where he is not, where someone else is.

Thus the idea (probably totally fantastical but shh) of the virus taking over the human body via the spleen was born. Because yknow Tim doesn't have it. Basically that the organ is the main/first part of infection and that through it the rest of the body gets taken over.

After the virus, the spread started and everything started to fall into disorder, the bats and some other people managed to create a safe haven. A good fortified place where they intent to become self-sufficient.

As Babs is still chair bound she has taken over (with the help of others) to try and find a cure and analyze the virus and the spread of it. For this they created a room where they'll watch over bitten patients, as they either die or turn. A lot of people die, bodies unable to keep up with the strain of it

So, Jason and Tim are out and about and Tim gets bit (saving Jason?) they bring him back to be observed, so they can gleam more data at how it works, how it turns you etc. it's all very emotional. Especially with the fear that Tim will turn and that they will have to shoot him. Though they also wonder if his compromised immune system might mean he dies faster.

He goes through the usual stages of fever, spasm and such, it's not unusual to see some sort of black liquid be secreted as well through the eyes, mouth, nose and ears. But with Tim it's excessive. He might even flatline once or come close to dying a few times. It's all very horrible and painful to watch.

And then it stills, Tim starts throwing up loads and loads of this black bile heaving with it. Pale as death. The Bats realize Tim survived a wonder! That's the first time they ever saw it happen, he'll be so useful in gathering more data etc.

And then his head explodes into splatters of brain matter as someone shoots him.

One of the guards mistook him for a zombie/didn't trust his survival/didn't want to risk it even if he did.

Jason is furious, he had promised (himself?) that he would be the one to kill Tim if it came down to it.

He might or might not even shoot the shooter still.

They're all distraught as hell, and they never figure it out how he survived.

Fanfic Author Ask Game

[iceicewifey]

I'd like to know the answer for both Shay and Richelle pweath 😳👉👈💗

🧊 - Is their current design the first one? (Do share some concept sketches or so if you'd like I'd love to hear your process in creating your OCs! 🤩)

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

───   💗      𝗔𝗦𝗞 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗘'𝗦 𝗢𝗖𝗦

    🧊 ::   Is their current design the first one?

i've never actually finished a drawing of either of richelle's designs beyond sketches, but you can see them here. shay on the other hand has had a few. I was asked this same question here and mentioned having to dig thru my pc for them. — i had a chance to do so since then i could only manage to find one but I KNOW there's more i haven't scanned so i'm gonna have to dig for my old sketchbooks in storage :') AHGJFGBJK anyway, if you've been around for a while you're probably familiar with her previous design with the purple pants. ihat one was her first 'real' design and i used it for the longest time and even after her recent(ish) redesign, i'm still too attached to it to scrap it completely, so it's just her backstory design now.

   💀 ::   Does your OC have any phobias?

i'm not sure about any actual full on phobias by the literal sense of the word, but richelle's greatest fear is losing her only good eye since her right is a prosthetic, while shay's afraid of being strangled and having to see (more) friends die in front of her 😔✊

    🍩 ::   Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

answered here for richelle! as for shay...

( pardon the sketch, i haven't drawn in days and i need to redraw em orz ) ANYWAY e was a Cuban gang leader by the name of Estefania Santamaría Torres, but Shay would always call her "Scarface". [ 'Spivak' pronouns preferred (e/em/eir) but she/her for safety. ] The story is long and conflicting and tbh i've never fully written it out, but Estefania killed the previous leaders and took over i mean... she ran the Outlaw support gang that Shay got herself wrapped up in before fleeing to Cairo and becoming involved with DIO. I have to save it for it's own post since it's so long, but Shay got on eir bad side (which isn't hard to do tbh) and yeah :') I don't talk about em too much, but Estefania is one of my favorite OCs like,, easily in my top 5 and it still makes me SO upset that e needs to die for story progression 😭 Speaking of that, Estefania is the reason Shay ends up in Cairo in the first place; Shay fled because she was afraid of gang retaliation, mostly because Este liked to play up eir influence. She's also the one that gave Shay her stand using one of the set of extra stand arrows i added (which i'll also explain later i swear fghng) i don't wanna ramble too much but yeah it's a lot dfnjkfg 😭

[gemwing1988]

Warning: This will contain spoilers for the movie for those who have yet to see it. Please enjoy.

The Swan Princess Christmas, in my opinion, is a very enchanting Christmas movie. While it doesn’t have as much love as much as the original trilogy from most fans, so I have read, personally as a die hard Swan Princess fan, I enjoyed regardless of some flaws.

While I would have liked it to keep the traditional hand 2D animation style like in the original trilogy and some of the character models in CG could have been done better, it’s still not too bad for it being the first SP movie to be done in CG animation if not perfect.

And you gotta admit, some of the songs are amazing! In fact, I even have the full soundtrack on CD for Christmas about 3 years ago. I personally enjoyed the movie’s own take on Hark! The Herald Angels Sing as well Away in a Manger. My personal favourites are Season of Love, Movie Version and the other version sang by Anna Graceman from American Idol in the end credits. The reprise of Season of Love sang by Odette is quite good, too but we’ll get to that later. I also recommend try listening to Christmas is the Reason as well.

And although she’s no Michelle Nicasto, Odette’s original voice actress all the way through the original Swan Princess Trilogy (may she rest in peace 😔), the voice actress who had lent her voice for Odette did alright first try as the Swan Princess. Her singing voice is decent enough. Of course, that’s just me.

The movie takes in place in Derek and Odette’s very first Christmas since they had officially married (whether it takes place before the events of The Secret of the Castle and The Mystery of the Enchanted Kingdom is left up to the fans. I think it definitely happened before the sequels to the original movie given the Prince and Princess’s wedding anniversary took place in The Secret of the Castle).

Anyway, back on topic, while Derek and Odette were staying over at Derek’s mother, Queen Uberta’s kingdom to spend the holiday with her, Lord Rogers and their friends, Speed the Turtle, the frog with the delusions of actually being a prince under a spell, Jean-Bob and the loyal puffin named… Puffin who goes by the motto, “No fear”.

Unfortunately, the most wonderful time of the year would be threatened to be ruined in the form of an old fool from Derek and Odette’s past who is out for some… haunting revenge.

You guessed it, the ghost of the wicked Rothbart, the main antagonist from the movie that started it all is planning to rise up from the grave to get some ice cold revenge on the Prince and Princess, all the while trying destroy the Christmas spirit. And he’s not alone as he has a minion in the form of a hapless and down on his luck cat named… Number Nine in the promise of giving him extra lives in assisting Rothbart in ruining Christmas for everyone.

Meanwhile, everyone is getting into the spirit of the season as they all decorate the Royal Christmas Trees with Christmas crafted in memory of the kingdom’s acts of kindness and helping one another in times of need, support, comfort and love. According to Rogers in the prologue, each ornament hung on the tree holds within it the very spirit of Christmas. Such a charming and sentimental tradition if you ask me. 🥰

Also, Jean-Bob is still up to his wacky nonsense to convince his friends that he’s really a prince by trying to use the old Christmas tradition of being kissed underneath the mistletoe by a pretty girl with zero luck. His first attempt was to get one of the castle maids to kiss him during an ice skating was a total bust.

After Nine had tricked Derek into opening a strange wooden chest that was actually containing Rothbart’s spirit (really don’t really know how that got trapped in there in the first place but I’m not one to often question somethings until the end of the movie) and Rothbart immediately sets his wicked schemes to action.

The ghostly enchanter’s first act of spite was casting a spell on Rogers and Uberta, turning into bitter and overly immature competitors trying to outdo one another during rehearsals for the Kingdom’s Christmas showcase.

Unfortunately for Rothbart, he can’t cast the same curse on Derek and Odette since they are both full of Christmas spirit. And he hits another roadblock in the form of the cute little swan themed wind chimes Rogers had made for the holidays. According to her son, Uberta always likes to make a special theme for every Christmas. Lucky for our protagonists, “Christmas Uberta” had decided to make it a Swan Princess Christmas.

Title drop! 😁

Sadly, that didn’t stop Rothbart as he leaves the castle to cause more chaos by casting a spell on some of the people in the kingdom to lose their Christmas spirit.

The cursed Rogers and Uberta’s efforts to outdo each other’s showcases comes off ridiculously absurd where they try to one up each other by adding in cute animals ranging from ponies to baby pandas. Admittedly, it does have some funny moments when their feud makes a Star Wars reference when their scrolled up parchments various adorable animals briefly turned int lightsabers and they duelled with them.

Feuding spell gets a lot worse when we hit a Hope Spot when Odette rallied the children from the orphanage to have a part in her showcase by rehearsing Christmas is the Reason before Rogers and the Queen. At first, it seemed the spell is broken but, unfortunately, it was a lot tougher than poor Odette had anticipated as they now started to fight over the children to perform in their own showcases while rejecting Puffin, Speed and Jean-Bob after the latter and the former had previously used them in previous rehearsals. To say the least, being the little “drama king” that he is, poor Jean-Bob didn’t take that very well.

But Odette isn’t one to give up as she still had another ace up her sleeve. She had taken Roger’s and Uberta out into the outskirts of the kingdom to show them an old tradition she and her father, the late King William, used to do every Christmas. Each year, Odette and William would deliver some food and other essentials at the doorsteps of the less fortunate. Now that’s a pure case of Royals Who Something tropes at its fullest there.

As they and Odette took cover and watched the tender and heartwarming exchange between the mother and daughter believing that angels had blessed them the bountiful feast and granting them their family a happy Christmas after, both Rogers and Uberta were moved by this and reconciled, thus restoring their Christmas spirit and breaking Rothbart’s spell. It also triggered all of the people to break out of the spell as well, which renders Rothbart’s magic to greatly weaken.

Sadly as most Christmas-hating villains go, being the Grinch that he is, Rothbart is one guy who isn’t quick to call it quits so easily.

During the antics with Rogers and Uberta, Rothbart had an unexpected reunion with his former minion, Bridget A.K.A. The Hag back. At first it would seem that he had swayed her back to his side for the sake of “old times”, convincing her to remove the wind chimes so he’ll be free to roam the castle some more to spread more havoc on everyone inside. But it was a ploy staged by Derek, who had Bridget be his mole and lower Rothbart into a trap over at the royal stables, caging the ghastly spirit in a giant wind chime forged by Derek himself… with the help of his best friend, Bromley.

Unfortunately, another Hope Spot where it turns out Rothbart had Nine steal one of Rogers’s inventions, a lightbulb which he had begged Uberta to use to the Royal Christmas Tree instead of candles. Rothbart had casted a spell on the lightbulb, when once all of the lights on the tree is lit, his magic destroys the tree and all the ornaments — everyone’s life work on every year — reducing them all into a pile of ash.

And much worse, it also restored Rothbart into a living form and his first act was to kidnap Odette, drag her back to his old lair (which had been converted into Derek and Odette’s new home), Swan Lake and turned her into a swan — again!

It gets a lot worse from there. After trapping Odette in a cage forged from roots grown out from the bottom of the lake, Rothbart plans to turn her into a swan-themed Christmas ornament by using the light of the moon once it shines upon her and touches her wings. Quite a cruel take on all the times she needed the moon to transform back into a human way back in the first movie. 😥

Once again, it’s up to Prince Derek to come to the rescue… with some struggles. As Rothbart has taken on his monstrous “Great Animal” form to duke it out withe the Prince, we face a lot of suspense when it seemed that Rothbart had actually gotten the upper hand and is preparing to make the killing blow.

Just then, Odette starts to sing a solemn and epic reprise of Season of Love, which seemed to suddenly weaken Rothbart. Keep it in mind that due to the Christmas is themed on the Swan Princess, Odette currently represents the Christmas spirit and practically embodies it, thus utterly destroying Rothbart for good.

And to say the least, Rothbart also fails to get the last laugh when he didn’t live long enough to witness Derek supposedly dying after barely stabbing him with the claw on his wing as a last ditch effort to take the Prince with him. And to further the enchanter’s meaningless victory, both Odette’s love for her husband and the spirit of Christmas healed Derek, bringing him back to life and restoring the Royal Christmas Tree and its ornaments, much to the joy of the kingdom.

Hey, Derek’s love for his true love brought her back to life — TWICE in fact! Don’t judge the power of love!

So, Rothbart had lost the rematch.

My only gripe about the movie is that I was disappointed that Nine didn’t get a Heel-Face Turn and tries to under his part in Rothbart’s schemes. A part of him had hoped that Nine would turn on Rothbart once the restored enchanter gloats to the cat he had lied about his promise and twist the knife further.

The only thing close to karma Nine got is that he was shocked that Rothbart is defeated after witnessing the tree and ornaments are magically restored and he won’t be seen again until one of the following sequels after this.

During a triumphant reprise of Christmas is the Reason as everyone celebrates, the kingdom happily made a very special Christmas dedicated to Derek and Odette saving Christmas and proudly hung on the Christmas tree; a very unique act of kindness and courage to be remembered for many years to come.

As fans, we have our thoughts and honest opinions and we can agree to disagree about what makes a great movie or not. While The Swan Princess Christmas may not be the sort of film to potentially win any Emmy awards, I still enjoyed it as well as the music.

It does its best to teach us the true value of peace on Earth and good will towards men and it does have some heartwarming moments, most especially between our favourite royal couple.

Happy holidays to all of my lovely followers and many other people who like and reblog some of my posts and may your dreams shine as bright and festive this Christmas. 😉

❄️🎄✨

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Happy Storyteller Saturday!!!

What are the things that you would say make your character's skin crawl?

If you had to describe that one moment in your characters' past that changed everything for them - for better or for worse - in a few words and without spoiling anything, what would it be?

Tell me: what are the best things in your characters' life and what is their general view of the world around them?

Happy Storyteller Saturday to you too.

This is another really fascinating question... and it's also something I didn't really think about deeply for every single one of them lol. Like Steph, for instance... she doesn't typically get squeamish or frightened by things. Most of the things that she fears are kind of internal, emotional stuff. Like, she's afraid of fully opening up to people, she's afraid of being vulnerable. She's afraid of showing others her whole self. That's why she tends to avoid any mega-deep conversations. It's also why she never really had friends before she moved to London (well, that as well as the fact that she's never really stayed in one place before, so it would be difficult to maintain strong relationships that way lol). This kind of changes once she gets with Ben, though (at least to some degree lol. Old habits die hard... but I guess it's a good thing, since good strong relationships are kind of about being able to comfortably communicate and this often includes being vulnerable).

Something I wrote for Alice which I think sort of counts as a "skin crawling" thing is that she's afraid of the creepy crawlies. Like spiders, flies, daddy-long-legs, etc. This is the exact opposite of Mary, her twin sister. Because of that, Mary, unfortunately, is the designated insect killer/pest control person in their house (she's the one that's responsible for taking care of the bugs. Story of my life growing up 😆).

(More below)

Now, in terms of big character moments that change their lives, I definitely have more to say on all that. Let's go!

Stephanie

Having both her parents abandon her as a small child (haven't really gone into her backstory too much, but yeah... she lost both her parents. That's how she got in foster care 😔)

Moving to London and meeting her current group of friends

Staying with her latest foster family, the Spencers (Melanie's family)

Meeting Ben and eventually getting with him

Melanie's death (duh)

Running away from home and moving in with Ben

Stephanie essentially goes with the whole idea of "Carpe Dium." She's used to instability, so now she just takes everything in stride. She doesn't prepare for anything, she doesn't go through life with super high expectations. She's just having fun living life. Which kind of sounds cynical in a sense (and it leads to some reckless behaviour and questionable choices), but she finds that this mindset is actually kind of liberating. She never gets disappointed by people or circumstances. She never lets herself get hurt. She's free. At least, she believes that she's free.

Bret

Going to a Coldplay concert when he was 7

His uncle Gordon giving him a kit of music production equipment for his 10th birthday, kickstarting his passion for music and songwriting

Getting an A in his first big music project (in music production)

Losing his parents in a car accident (which lead to him having to move in with his aunt)

Bret is kind of indifferent to everything lol. Losing his parents really hit him hard, and made him feel like nothing could make him feel even the slightest bit better. So he stopped caring. He stopped caring enough to try. He's like, "nothing is ever going to change anyway, so why bother?" Which is obviously a bad way to think. Part of his character arc is shifting this negative mentality, and growing into a stronger, better and happier person.

Elise

Losing her grandparents (she was really close to them)

Adam accidentally impregnating his high school girlfriend, Grace (which lead to her actually getting banned from dating in high school herself - her parents are really strict and protective of their kids, and they wanted to avoid a similar thing happening to her)

Adam getting kicked out of the house (Elise is super close to her brother, so it hurt a lot to not have him around with her anymore)

Having to leave her choir due to teasing and bullying surrounding Adam's little incident

Elise is interesting because she goes through a lot of difficult things, but she appears to have her life completely together. She seems like a really happy girl. Because she is. She has this positive mindset through all her challenges, and this is kind of what pulls her through everything she faces. She goes into everything with an open mind, an open heart, resilience and optimism that she will be ok in the end (I wish I had that superpower lol).

Dylan

Discovering the TV show, "Lazy Town" back when he was 4. He was a huge fan back in his primary school days lol (may sound silly, but this kind of what kickstarts his passion for sports, exercise and just general healthy living. Plus, I wanted to include a small aspect of my childhood into his character lol. That show was so much fun, and it does a good job of showing kids how to create a good balance in life)

His parents getting a divorce (I can say from experience that this is hella rough on everyone involved... especially with shared custody. Always being dragged here and there, missing one parent while you're staying at the other's, etc)

Mum getting engaged to someone new (Dylan's storyline is basically him and his father and brother coming to terms with the fact that his mother is remarrying someone that isn't his dad, and the fact that she is moving away with her new guy. Heavy stuff)

Dylan is sort of similar to Steph with the whole "Carpe Dium" thing. However, he is a little bit more thoughtful and careful than she is. I mean, they're both reckless (ad they have a few parallels in their arcs, too, like running away from their families due to not getting that warm feeling of love and security and support that they need from home), but almost everything Dylan does has some sort of reason behind it, even if it's kind of flimsy. You can tell that he puts thought into his decision-making, even to the point where he'll ask for advice, while Stephanie tends to just make choices at a whim.

Alice

Going to her first dance lesson at age 6 (she's a very skilled dancer and still trains a lot to this day)

Moving to the UK (from the United States. Specifically from Dallas, Texas, which, fun fact: I have a few uncles and cousins that live there! So I've been there a few times. It's great!)

Alice just gets through life by laughing at everything lol. I've mentioned that she masks her insecurity with humour. Well, humour is how she deals with pretty much everything. She makes herself laugh at the really tough stuff she has to face and deal with on a regular basis. She finds the stupidity in everything. She's super pessimistic and cynical, but she rolls with it. Again, I wish I had this super power...

Fun fact: I got this idea from Lorelai from Gilmore Girls! Here's the specific clip:

[vonkarma2]

cirillo for the oc ask?

remember this ask? no? that’s because it’s from 3 years ago. let it never be said I don’t answer every ask, eventually. the draft has been in my Google docs for so long haunting me lmao so I decided to get it done

B A S I C S

full name: Cirillo an Avarre (formerly Cirillo Toscani)

gender:  male (transgender)

sexuality: straight

pronouns: he/him

O T H E R S

family: right now, none, considering he was disowned a few years ago. Before then he had various shitty relatives in a very large family of nobility that like 1) ran a huge worldwide company 2) participated in national government. Not close at all personally, more like frustrated coworkers than a regular extended family. His parents weren’t actively bad but they were absent most of the time and both had absolutely no interest in raising children, only having had them in the first place because they basically kinda had to. Culture very focused on continuing the family legacy + keeping it strong, as well as competition both within the family and with other ones. Ofc he had his sister Laura, the two of them were very close as children and drifted apart a little as they got older and had very different interests, and then drifted apart hard when Cirillo got promoted and kept selling out to literally anyone who asked. So she got him disowned and also hates him now. At the start of the main story 

birthplace: avarrecia, living in a like fancy mansion estate in the middle of the countryside. lots of rolling hills probably a vineyard. very obnoxious. to be fair though he didn’t much care for it he preferred the cities they would go visit (usually within the country, but sometimes internationally)

job: at the start of the story he’s an old timey telephone switchboard operator, but he quits that very early on to be Rocio’s assistant (it’s officially recognized + he gets paid directly by the government, wizards have people like this all the time). They need one not for like menial grunt work which they love doing but for like, basic communication and interaction with other people. Sometimes advanced interaction. They want to get around both the office politics and actual politics they’re stuck navigating). This was not a wise financial decision for him as the government collapsed like 2 months later so now after the story ends he is unemployed. He can’t even come crawling back to his family because they lost all their money in an unrelated but similarly dramatic incident 

phobias: nothing in particular, unless this just means like general fears? he’s afraid of nebulously being a bad person (

guilty pleasures: anything that makes him feel joy at all is a guilty pleasure. he could feel guilty about anything. someone could be like ugh it’s so cloudy today and he’d be like fuck I can’t believe let them down 😔

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: lawful good

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath 

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: extrovert if he goes like, 4 hours without talking to someone he feels like he’s about to die

organized/disorganized: meticulously writes down important things so he doesn’t forget, but other than that is actually pretty disorganized, when he was younger he was used to other people cleaning up for him and so now that he’s older and that doesn’t apply anymore he just doesn’t care lol

close minded/open-minded: open-minded, he would be friends with you if you killed someone in front of him he is ok with most things or at least willing to forgive them. If you’re not a bad person and you’re just like weird or something then he wouldn’t care in the slightest

calm/anxious: anxious

disagreeable/agreeable: agreeable, he has never started a fight in his life. whenever someone argues with him his first instinct is to appease them by whatever means necessary and he has to actively consciously fight against that impulse

cautious/reckless: cautious, sometimes he tries to appear reckless but he’s basically always thinking things through as much as he can. that doesn’t mean he comes to the right conclusions though lol

patient/impatient: patient, but this one’s because he tries not to expect anything from anyone or like the situation in general I guess? he tries to always keep his expectations low, so he wouldn’t get mad waiting for anything 

outspoken/reserved: for someone who talks a lot he is actually pretty reserved about personal information (unless he thinks the person he’s talking to needs to hear it, like so he can relate to them or something) and his own 

leader/follower: you can probably guess by now lmao. He’s never made his own decisions in his entire life

empathetic/unempathetic: some of these questions are so obvious for the character in question I feel like I’m talking down to the audience answering them in like the most obvious way. empathetic what do you want from me

optimistic/pessimistic: weird mix of both, I’d say optimistic overall and believes that everything will turn out alright in the end in general, but does 

traditional/modern: modern for sure, although in this world the concept of that is kind of different, especially since he moved to a different country where the culture and concept of modernity is very different from in his home country. but he likes modern fashion styles, modern technology, tries to get invested in progressive politics + like new societal ideas. he thinks everything in the world can and should be improved in some way. To be clear, he doesn’t blindly support every newly introduced idea obviously this is like. the general trend

hard-working/lazy: despite his best efforts he does not have much of a work ethic for things he is not interested in, but of course if it’s necessary or it literally anyone is there to potentially judge him he’ll do it, so he ends up being hardworking most of the time. but literally only because of peer pressure. and he’ll internally hate every second of whatever it is he’s doing. it’s kind of pathetic it’s because he grew up incredibly like catered to I guess. has few to no life skills. he’s working on it 

[aviiatrix]

" O'Connell. You're safe. " The man's instincts retract and he lowers his weapon; there were many creatures in this cursed mansion, and all of them rather... annoying. Annoying, but a necessary evil for what must be done. Still, his chest can't help but feel a tinge of pride at his team preserving in spite of this madness. His tone puts forth one hopeful (WHAT A LIE), inquiring -- after all these things dug their teeth into anything that moved. " And well? " / wesker 😔 | @gviirus unprompted ic asks status: always accepting !!

♘ ― ❝ safe? well? with all due respect, sir, i feel like i got one foot in the goddamn grave. ❞ she nearly winces at the way her voice cracks. those two words are the last she would use to describe the condition she's in. river can feel the agonizing pain of each injury that has marred her body so far and the acidic burn of the bile that threatens to creep up her throat at the image of her dead teammates that'll surely be a permanently seared image inside of her mind for the rest of her life. just like her comrades in her old squadron.

she wants to trust captain wesker's words... she wants to have that same level hopefulness she hears in his voice, but she can't help thinking she's going to die here... that there isn't an ounce of hope left for her anymore. she's lucky enough she hasn't become one of those mindless, stumbling corpses, but now she fears she's going to succumb to her wounds. or die from one of the other horrific abominations crawling around in this place.

she desperately wants to ask if he's seen rebecca, that looming dread creeping up her spine and latching itself onto her in the form of a weight inside of her chest, but instead she bites her tongue and pauses for a moment as her brows furrow. what if his answer is something she doesn't want to hear? there's a contemplative look in her eyes, a million thoughts running through her mind.

light blue hues slowly shift up to look at him, a heavy reluctance within her tone as she began to break the tense silence that was settling between them.

❝ are the others okay? ❞ any good news feels like it'll be a miracle in that moment. something. anything. even if it's just a small sliver of hope to cling onto, she'll take it over feeling like she's going crazy. because it's hard to believe any of this is happening.

[sesamestreep]

22 for your choice of pairing - even if I don’t know the fandom! 😘❤️ (so sorry COVID has fucked your holiday plans, that really really sucks 😔) love you!!

#22 - falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

“Are you sure this is going to make you feel better?” Jess asks, not sounding convinced.

“You said I could pick any movie!” Nick shouts, from his spot on the couch.

“I know, I know,” she says, gently. “I just thought you’d pick something...nicer...”

“‘Die Hard’ is the best movie ever made and it’s the only thing that will bring me comfort right now!”

“Okay, then, we are going to watch ‘Die Hard’,” Jess says, settling next to him on the couch. “Because tonight is all about making you feel better. We’ve got pizza. We’ve got beer. We’ve got other snacks in the kitchen. We’ve got two whole boxes of tissues, because this is a no-judgment zone if you—or anybody else, for that matter—needs to cry about anything at all.”

Nick sighs loudly. “Jess, I swear, I’m really fine,” he says, even though he knows it won’t make a difference. “So what if Julia dumped me? Who cares? I don’t need love. I’m like a lone wolf!”

“The most successful wolves live in packs, though,” she says, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Wolves that go it alone are, like, sick and dying, usually.”

“Is that true?!”

“Yes.”

“Why would you tell me that, Jess?”

“Oh, Nick—”

“I’m in a very emotional place right now!”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m thinking of another animal! Not wolves! A different animal, that’s not cute at all. Those are the ones that...die alone...”

“Jesus,” Nick says, hanging his head. “You are so bad at this.”

“Okay, well,” she exclaims, waving the remote at him desperately, “let’s just let John Wayne do the cheering up, then. Let’s start the movie!”

“It’s John McClane, Jess. Not John Wayne.”

“My bad,” she mutters, and presses play.

Normally, Jess would not be his first choice for cheering him up after a breakup, but her method of picking a movie you love and watching it on repeat until you feel better did help her move on from the flaming wreckage of a six year relationship not that long ago, so maybe she’s onto something. When she’d suggested it, though, everyone was supposed to be here to support him, but Winston’s girlfriend got the night off from work unexpectedly and Schmidt is stuck at the office for like the fourth night in a row, so it’s just him and Jess tonight.

She’s never seen ‘Die Hard’ before, which he finds both unbelievable and completely unsurprising at the same time, somehow. It doesn’t really seems like her kind of thing, if he’s being honest, since there’s no cartoon bunnies or dramatic makeover scenes or characters expressing themselves through dance in it, but she hangs in there pretty well. She gasps and hides her face in his shoulder when Takagi dies, but that scene is kind of gross, so Nick can’t really fault her for it. When she doesn’t move her head off his shoulder, he briefly panics, but reassures himself that she’s probably just anticipating another gory scene and it’s not because she wants to cuddle or something.

“You know, this movie has a fascinating thread of economic anxiety running through it,” she whispers, about forty minutes in. “John McClane’s insecurity about his wife being financially independent from him and using her maiden name at work, not to mention the fear at this time that Japanese companies were outperforming American ones in many—”

“Jess, please, I’m begging you. Don’t try to make ‘Die Hard’ smart!”

“But it is, Nick! There’s a lot of interesting subtext here!”

“I believe you, okay?” He says. “But right now, I only want to watch this movie because Bruce Willis shoots everybody and gets the girl in the end!”

“Spoilers, Nick!”

“This movie is twenty years old! It’s not my fault you’re the only person on Earth who hasn’t seen it!”

“Fine,” Jess says, hunkering down further against his side. He really does not know why she hasn’t moved yet.

Another twenty minutes pass before Nick hears himself asking, “Is that what girls want?”

“What?” Jess asks, distracted. “Oh. Reginald VelJohnson? Totally.”

“No, not—wait, really? That’s what you’re into?”

Jess rolls her eyes. “Duh. He’s picking up doughnuts for his pregnant wife! He’s a good man.”

“Not Bruce Willis?”

“Not until he learns a thing or two about womens’ equality,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Is that what you were asking? If women want John McClane?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug that jostles her a little. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t seem deterred by it at all, which is nice. Not that he needs her to keep snuggling against him or anything, but it’s kind of comforting in a weird way.

“Maybe some girls do. But I think John McClane is meant to appeal more to you than to me.“

“Me? Really?”

“Yeah, it’s like...every guy who sees this movie is supposed to be thinking to himself, you know, ‘if that were me, I’d save everybody too! I’d outsmart the terrorists and be the hero!’”

“But isn’t that the guy you’d want to be with?”

“I already told you, my heart belongs to Reginald VelJohnson,” she says, hand to heart and everything. “But I think what you’re actually asking me is what Julia wanted.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you but I don’t think she broke up with you because you haven’t dropped enough C4 down enough elevator shafts.”

Nick laughs, without meaning to. “That sounds like a very unfortunate euphamism.”

“Ugh,” Jess gags, punching his shoulder. “Don’t be gross!”

“I’m sorry!”

“I’m trying to say that your problem isn’t that you’re not McClane-y enough.”

“So what is my problem, then?

“I’m not going to diagnose you, Nick! That’s what therapy is for!”

“Come on, Jess. I’m broke, I don’t have insurance. You know I can’t afford a real therapist. You deal with middle school boys all day, you’re the next best thing.”

“Well, since you’re already comparing yourself to a middle school boy,” Jess says, “I might suggest your confidence needs a little work.”

“No kidding,” Nick says, unimpressed.

“I’m serious,” she says. “You are a great guy, Nick! You just get so in your head about everything that you sabotage your own happiness. You tried to read meaning into every little thing Julia did and you freaked her out. Just believe in yourself a little bit for once!”

“Hey, remember when tonight was supposed to be about making me feel better?” He asks, stunned. It’s not like he didn’t know that was part of his problem, but it just feels a thousand times worse knowing that Jess knows it too.

“You heard the part where I called you a great guy, right?“ she asks, and she has the decency to look slightly embarrassed. When he just glares at her, she adds, “Listen, if you want to feel better, I’ll be honest: Julia messed up too. I mean, you had one small panic attack about a cactus and that’s it for her? You need somebody who will stick with you through those rough patches, and Julia couldn’t do that. So I think you’re better off.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s like—you need somebody who gets you. And I don’t think she got you,” Jess says, gesturing wildly with her beer bottle. “But what do I know? It’s not like I’m an expert. I’m as single as you are.”

He wishes she wouldn’t remind him of that, because it’s only going to make the fact that they’ve spent the entire night watching a movie and basically cuddling very weird for him. He’s always thought she was cute—it’s part of why he was so against her moving into the loft in the beginning, because he knew one of them was going to end up with a crush on her eventually—but she’s also somehow managed to become one of his best friends over these last few months, which means he needs to be careful. He’s got a good track record when it comes to keeping friends, but he’s terrible at relationships; the whole thing with Julia had basically proved that. Against all odds, Jess has becomes important enough in his life that he needs to avoid any confusing, romantic feelings about her so their friendship won’t be ruined. He is not going to screw this up, no matter what.

“In conclusion,” he says, to hide the fact that he’s been thinking about her all this time, “be more like Reginald VelJohnson and my romantic troubles will be over.”

“Exactly,” Jess replies, with a grin.

They settle into an easy silence then that lasts the rest of the movie. Oddly enough, Nick realizes he is actually starting to feel better. Maybe Jess is onto something with this breakup coping strategy of hers. He’s about to say as much to her, when he hears her snore quietly next to him. He cranes his neck carefully and discovers that she’s asleep against his shoulder. She might be drooling a little bit, too.

Nick waits for the panic to settle in—this is way too domestic and familiar for two people who are just friends—but it doesn’t happen. It’s actually kind of nice, sitting here with her, knowing she’s so comfortable with him. He could get used to this, he thinks, as the credits roll on the movie and he cues it up to start from the beginning again.