#he's a son to me i feel like i fathered this boy

[22ayla21]

Fathers and Their Children Part II

The Twisted Wonderland boys as fathers.

Third year Second year First year

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle, being a proponent of order, tries to raise his children with discipline, but after the events of his youth, he realizes that excessive strictness can be harmful. He demands respect, but doesn't turn his home into a barracks. He has certain rules (like "Don't play with food at the table" and "Do your homework before sunset"), but he's no longer the boy who blindly followed his mother's rigid norms.

Although he doesn't always express his feelings in words, his children know he loves them. He's willing to sit by a sick child's bedside at night, gently tucking in their blanket as they fall asleep, and brew their favorite tea if they've had a tough day.

He's proud of his son, especially when he shows intelligence and diligence in his studies. However, he's very soft towards his daughter—she's the only one who can persuade him to break a rule or simply give in to her cute eyes. If she asks for a little more time before bed or an extra cookie, he initially shakes his head sternly, but a few minutes later, he gives in.

When his mother comes to visit, the atmosphere in the house immediately becomes tense. She thinks Riddle is too lenient with the children and tries to impose her "order." For example, she might criticize her son for his too "weak" control over the family, demanding that the children sit with perfectly straight backs and eat only "proper" food.

• The children try to escape her in any way possible. If she comes, they suddenly become "very busy" in their rooms or find urgent errands outside.

• The son sometimes openly protests, saying, "Dad, you're not going to make me sit and listen to her for hours, are you?!"

• The daughter initially tries to be polite but then just hides behind her mom.

Despite his strictness, he tries to instill in his children truly important principles: respect, responsibility, and a thirst for knowledge. He's proud that his son and daughter aren't afraid to voice their opinions, even if they contradict his views.

Sometimes, when no one is watching, he allows himself to be just a dad, not a strict head of the family. He might play chess with the children or even magic games, although he later pretends it was purely "for educational purposes."

If the children misbehave, he doesn't yell or make a scene. Instead, he gives them logical punishments: for example, skipping dinner (but with tea, because he's not cruel) or writing an essay on why it's important to respect rules. But if someone hurts each other or anyone else—then he's truly strict.

Riddle isn't perfect, but he tries to be the best father he can be. His children help him understand that sometimes it's okay to just be happy, even if the world around them isn't perfect.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie, of course, loves his son, but raising a child is a real headache. He might grumble when the boy makes a mess or asks too many questions, but deep down, he's proud of how clever and cunning the kid is becoming.

His son is a real little rascal. He quickly figures out how to get what he wants with minimal effort: "Dad, if I help you clean up, will you give me a meat pie?" Ruggie initially laughs, but then realizes that's exactly how he taught him.

Although he's quite relaxed about parenting, he won't let his son be lazy or slack off. If the boy starts being too blatantly cunning, he'll put him in his place: "Listen, son, if you want to be smart, at least don't show it."

Ruggie believes it's important for his son to be able to take care of himself. He teaches him to cook, find easy ways to earn money, and even pull off small adventures: "If you want a tasty meal, help get it first!"

If he's spending time with his wife, his son is sure to periodically steal his mother's attention. For example, he might sit between them when they're relaxing or deliberately demand that Mom read him a story instead of Dad. Ruggie just sighs, "Well, you've got quite the character, little bandit..."

Sometimes, he's surprised to see how independent his son is becoming. It fills him with both pride and a slight melancholy, because once this little one held onto his tail, and now he's handling his own affairs.

When his son starts laughing, the sound is a mix of childish giggles and Ruggie's signature "hyena laugh." He's scared people more than once by suddenly bursting into loud laughter at an inappropriate moment. Ruggie just smirks, "Oh, why are you so scared? It's just a kid!"

Ruggie teaches him the main principle: "You can be smart, you can be strong, but it's best to be flexible." He passes on his experience, but also allows his son to make his own mistakes so he can learn from them.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul thought his daughter would be a perfect, obedient child who would share his love for intellectual games and business. However, reality turned out to be more complicated: the little girl was too curious, energetic, and inherited his cunning mind, but was much more free-spirited than he expected.

Azul often tries to act like a strict but fair father, but his daughter has a special talent for disarming him with her spontaneity. If she tugs on his sleeve with a sincere "Daddy, play with me," he, of course, initially feigns displeasure, but eventually gives in, especially if Floyd is nearby and already hinting that "daddy's a wimp."

The daughter inherited his traits: on land, she looks like a regular human, but when she gets wet, she turns into an octopus. This was a surprise for Azul, but he quickly adapted. However, he's very worried about how she'll perceive her dual nature. He remembers suffering from insecurity himself, so he does everything to make his daughter not feel inferior and be proud of who she is.

The first time the little girl realized she wasn't like the other kids on land, she was scared. Azul gently explained to her that it was her strength, not her weakness. Inspired by his own experience, he showed her how to use her extra limbs in the water—for example, to play with multiple toys at once or scare Uncle Floyd.

Azul tends to be overprotective of his daughter, especially when it comes to water. He fears she might be rejected like he was as a child. He even considered limiting her contact with water, but eventually realized it wasn't the solution. Instead, he teaches her to be proud but discreet—"use your power, but don't show it off to everyone."

He started teaching his daughter business skills early. At five, she could already negotiate for extra sweets, and at seven, she could give him such a convincing look that he'd sign a "contract" for an extra hour of playtime before bed. Jade, watching this, once remarked, "Looks like another cunning one is growing up."

Floyd is the uncle who's always fun (and a bit dangerous). He was the first to teach the girl to joke and be a little mischievous. Jade, in turn, taught her patience and manipulation—Azul doesn't like it, but he understands that his daughter's skills can be useful.

Every time the little girl says this, Azul has a bad feeling. It usually means she's found some loophole in the rules, just like he did as a child.

Azul wants his daughter to grow up confident and not repeat his mistakes. He does everything to make her accept her nature and be strong. However, he fears that one day she'll face the same cruelty he did as a child. Therefore, he always reminds her:

"You're special not because you have octopus tentacles or human legs. You're special because you're you."

Jade Leech

From early childhood, Jade teaches his daughter not only etiquette and manners but also the art of subtle manipulation. He tells her how to choose her words, when to smile, and when to remain silent. At the same time, he never forces her to follow his methods—he simply explains how to manage a situation more conveniently, should the need arise.

He's not a strict father, but if someone dares to offend his daughter, he'll act as he always does—calmly, subtly, but inevitably. The offender might not even realize they're being hunted until their life gradually turns into chaos.

From a young age, Jade takes his daughter on hikes through forests and mountains, telling her about rare plants and creatures. He loves to watch her discover the world with delight. However, if someone tries to instill fear of nature in her, he'll only smirk and say, "It's not predatory beasts you should fear, but those who hide behind kind smiles."

Jade always admires his daughter's uniqueness, her ability to change form in water. He doesn't consider it a flaw; on the contrary, he's proud of it and teaches her to be the same. He might ask with a light mockery, "Have you decided where you prefer to live—on land or in water?" However, he never pressures her choice.

When she first transforms into a moray eel, Jade looks at her with a sparkle in his eyes, slowly claps his hands, and says with a gentle smile, "Ah, how lovely. You're simply charming. Want to learn how to hunt underwater?" Then he teaches her to swim, feel the currents, and use her predator instincts.

He explains to his daughter that humans and sea creatures live by different rules. In water, you can follow instincts, but on land, words and subtle maneuvers are important. "It's all about balance, my dear. Isn't it interesting to know when to smile and when to show your teeth?"

His brother, of course, is very fond of his niece and often takes her on chaotic adventures. Jade doesn't forbid it but comments with a light smile, "Just don't let Floyd drag you into some adventure that'll be hard to get out of."

When his daughter first tries to pull off some cunning game or manipulation, Jade, of course, notices. However, instead of scolding her, he nods approvingly and says, "Not bad. But try to make it a bit more subtle next time."

Floyd Leech

Floyd laughed when he found out he was having twins. "Haha, what a coincidence! Or maybe it's fate?~" he joked. But when the children were born, he wasn't laughing anymore—he was completely thrilled. Two little creatures, just like him and Jade once were... only now they were his own children.

Floyd eagerly awaited the children's first contact with water. He knew they had inherited not only his appearance but also his nature. And when it finally happened—their skin covered in patterns, and their legs replaced by flexible moray eel tails—he couldn't help but laugh with joy: "Waaah, there you go! Now you're real little moray eels!~" He proudly swims with them, teaches them to dive and move in water like predators, telling them it's their family's "natural state."

Like Floyd, the children have a capricious nature. One moment they're laughing and hugging, and the next, they're sulking and refusing to talk to anyone. And they both quickly lose interest in things...

Floyd just shrugs:

"Well, that's normal! They're mine!~"

However, even if Jade admits that the children are too headstrong, Floyd only replies:

"Come on, let them enjoy life!~"

As with everyone else, Floyd doesn't use ordinary names for them. For example, he might call them "Little Eel" and "Gill Bubble." If the children try to protest, he just laughs and says they should be grateful they weren't named something like "Tiny Octopus."

Despite his playful and capricious nature, Floyd is a caring father. If the children are unwell, he instantly switches and becomes attentive. If someone offends them—no matter who, child or adult—he'll deal with that person.

"Huh? He upset you? Well, I'll have a word with him...~" he says, his smile turning frighteningly dark.

Although he loves his children, he sometimes acts like he's not their father but an older brother. He might support their pranks, take them fishing, come up with new tricks. If his wife looks at him disapprovingly, he just puts on an innocent face and says, "Well, they need to have fun!~"

When the children are sad or scared, Floyd doesn't comfort them with words—he just grabs them and squeezes them in a tight hug (of course, he controls the strength of the hug). His warmth and closeness quickly restore their good mood.

"Hey, don't mope, my little eel!~"

Kalim Ali-Asim

Kalim is the parent who's always ready to play, come up with adventures, and throw noisy parties for his children. He happily organizes home picnics, jumps on pillows with the kids, pretending to be dangerous sandstorms, and even lets them ride on his back like a camel.

His children never lack anything. Kalim strives to surround them with care and attention, buying them the best toys, sweets, and gifts, just to see them happy. However, sometimes his generosity goes too far, and Jamil (who's still in his life) has to remind him that parenting isn't just spoiling.

Kalim is proud of his sons, even if they're completely different. One might be cheerful and easygoing, while the other is more serious and responsible, but he praises them both equally. He sincerely rejoices in their successes, and even if one of them fails, he supports them with phrases like, "Don't worry, you'll definitely manage! Just try again!"

Kalim simply adores his youngest daughter and always carries her in his arms. She can ask for anything—and he'll fulfill her wish immediately. Sometimes her older brothers even get jealous, but Kalim sincerely loves them all equally. The daughter quickly realizes that Dad is soft and learns to use it to her advantage.

He doesn't like to scold children and, if they do something wrong, he's more likely to explain the situation gently than to punish them strictly. Perhaps because of this, his children sometimes get out of control, but at such moments someone (like their mom or Jamil) has to intervene to restore discipline.

Before bedtime, he tells the children stories about distant lands and magical creatures, sometimes adding elements from his own adventures. He also sings them lullabies, but gets so carried away that the song turns into a real concert with dancing.

If someone offends his child, Kalim is the first to rush to their defense, even if he doesn't fully understand what's happening. He might innocently approach the offender and say, "Hey, let's just be friends, okay?"—but if that doesn't work, he'll do everything to ensure his child doesn't suffer again.

Despite his naivety and clumsiness, Kalim is the kind of father who teaches children to see the good in the world, not to be afraid to dream, and to always remain kind. He wants his children to grow up happy and free, not intimidated or limited by strict rules.

Jamil Viper

Jamil treats his daughter as the most precious treasure in his life. He is ready to turn into dust anyone who dares to offend her, but at the same time he tries not to suppress her freedom. However, if someone even thinks of upsetting her - this person will instantly disappear from his social circle.

He is not the kind of father who will yell or punish with words. He does not even need to do this - one cold look is enough for the child to understand that he has gone too far. However, he is never really angry with his daughter, even if she has done something wrong. He sighs, explains the mistakes and helps to correct them, but inside he is already planning how to prevent chaos next time.

Jamil teaches her everything he knows from an early age. He teaches her discipline, strategy, dancing and even cooking, but he never pressures - if she does not like something, he simply suggests trying something else. However, one thing is a must - self-defense. No one should threaten his daughter, so he makes sure that she can stand up for herself.

Jamil is a master at cooking, and of course his daughter gets the most delicious and exquisite dishes. Even if she accidentally spills spices or spills something on the table, he doesn’t get angry - he just quietly cleans up the mess and continues to teach her how to mix flavors correctly.

If his daughter comes to him with an offended face and says: “Abi, he offended me!”, Jamil will not start a showdown, but this person will disappear from her circle. Before she even has time to understand what happened, the problem is already solved.

Despite all his seriousness, Jamil cannot refuse his daughter. She is the only person in front of whom he loses his restraint. If she asks for five more minutes before bed? Good. If she wants him to read her fairy tales until she falls asleep? Of course. If she wants to sit on his shoulders while he works? Why not.

Jamil never says it out loud, but he is more proud of his daughter than anyone else in the world. Even if she just says something smart or takes a step forward in her studies, he smiles to himself, knowing that she will definitely achieve everything she wants. He will not answer right away. Maybe he will say something neutral to avoid unnecessary conversations. But when he is alone, he always knows the answer. His beloved daughter.

Silver Vanrouge

Despite his tendency to fall asleep at unexpected moments, Silver sincerely tries to be a good father. He listens to his daughter with amazing patience, even if he himself is already on the verge of sleep. Even if he falls asleep next to his daughter, the slightest strange sound or her restlessness instantly wakes him up, and he is immediately on guard.

Even when she was a baby, he often rocked her in his arms. Even as she grows older, he continues to do this, although not as often. He often takes on the task of lulling the baby to sleep, but, as a rule, falls asleep faster himself. Sometimes the daughter just lies next to her and watches her dad already sweetly dozing, and her mother laughs at it.

Silver rarely raises his voice and always prefers to explain everything softly, but if his daughter is in danger, his calmness will instantly be replaced by cold-blooded determination.

He wants his daughter to be safe, so from childhood he teaches her the basics of fencing and defense. Of course, in a soft form - with a toy sword or a wooden stick.

Lilia simply adores her granddaughter, and she reciprocates his feelings. They arrange fun games for her together, and then Silver only sighs tiredly, watching how his father has again taught the baby some “useful” prank.

If his daughter creates a little chaos in the house, he does not scold, but simply carefully analyzes the consequences and, if necessary, gently explains why it is not worth doing.

He is sure that his daughter has inherited her mother's beauty and character, but Lilia always corrects him with a smirk: "She is so much like you!" Despite all his gentleness, if someone offends his daughter, Silver becomes incredibly serious. That same warrior's look flashes in his eyes, and no one doubts that he will do anything to protect her.

[di-loves-coffee]

I cannot stop thinking about this, sooo here’s something that’s in assumption that Danny’s still going to school… a bit more of a father-son aspect here

I’m using some language that’s a bit on the coarser side in this, trying to get into Waylon’s mindset. Also because this mentions racism and racial slurs that I was… not too happy to research. [Don’t worry, neither Waylon nor Danny are saying them, but they’re still mentioned]

•—•~•Called To The Office•~•—•

Damn this kid, making trouble in the second week of school?

They called Waylon to come pick him up for fuck’s sake! What did this twig do!?

Waylon had managed to squeeze himself into a nice pair of pants and shoes to help make a good impression despite his face. Gotham Prep was a ‘prestigious’ school after all. Don’t need his record ruining his kid’s.

Squeezing through the doorframe and awkwardly explaining to the secretary (who looked scared enough to piss herself) that he was there for his son Danny.

Thankfully, she managed to shakily point down a hall— assumedly where the dean’s office was… they called the pretentious pricks ‘Deans’ here, yeah? Rich people probably did stupid shit like that.

Waylon padded down the hall, trying to be mindful of his larger size.

This place felt stuffy and small, like pretentiousness and entitlement… smelt like it too.

He made it to a too-fancy door— probably hard-wood if you asked someone— with a plaque adorning it at what would be an average adult’s eyesight.

It read the words Dean Wilcox in bold lettering, colored bronze as if it was meant to make it feel more important.

Waylon took a moment to steel himself before lifting his clawed hand— clutched in a loose fist— and rapped on the door twice.

“Come in Mr. Fenton,” A masculine voice called from within, sounding older— late forties at just a guess.

Waylon froze for a moment as he fully processed the words. Fenton?

Did they think he was Biologically Danny’s father?

Oh boy, this’ll be a meeting.

Waylon opened the door with a careful grip and squeezed inside, speaking before anyone else could process the shock of him being there.

“I’m- ah—here for Danny? I’m caring for the boy”

“O-oh, well Killer Cro-” “Jones.”

Everyone in the room glanced at the skinny boy— holy shit was Danny bruised?— in confusion after he piped up. Gazes silently questioning the boy’s words.

“He’s Mr. Jones” Danny— the little shit— just doubled down on his previous statement. Not leaving a single millimeter of room for argument.

“W- well, Mr. Jones,” The man— sat behind a large desk— sounded nervous. Which… was probably a good thing depending on the situation, even if Waylon didn’t want to have to play the ‘bad guy’ role, “Daniel… got into an altercation with another student.”

At that news, Waylon glanced down at Danny. Silently asking the boy what happened.

“He was being a dick to my classmate Damian, said some really racist shit.” The little squirt— like always— told it like it was and left no room for argument.

“W- while it may seem that way from the boy’s perspective,” Waylon’s gaze moved back to the Dean, causing him to swallow and look like he just ate too many hot peppers, “young mister Markham didn’t say anything of the sort”

“He called Damian a ‘Dune Coon’.” Danny’s words were said with a flatness that revealed an underlying rage that Waylon himself was beginning to feel himself. “And said he was ‘Unpure’ and a ‘Half-Breed’”

Waylon found his gaze hardening with the newfound information, a harsh fire building under his skin.

“That’s not the matter at hand.” The Dean foolishly tried to salvage the situation. “Your- your ward punched Mister Markham”

“From what I understand here.” Waylon started, eyes carefully watching the Dean as he shifted like a scared hare under his sharp amber gaze, “The Markham boy chose his actions and was made to suffer the real-world consequences of them.”

That had the older man blubbering, trying to save his version of the story.

“It seems to me that your school tolerates racism and discrimination among your student body.” Waylon fixed the man with a dangerous glare, “Now, you can punish Danny however you like, but I won’t be punishing this behavior. And I warn you, if this happens again, I will not be so flippant.”

With that, Waylon deemed it a good time to leave, fixing Danny with a short ‘C’mon squirt’ and squeezing out of the door. The small teen cheerfully following behind him.

So, Waylon adopts Danny.

•—•~•—•Crocodile Dad•—•~•—•

Waylon wasn’t quite sure how he acquired a kid.

In fact, Waylon doesn’t even think he had actually chose himself to keep him. Instead he thinks that this kid chose him.

Right now, the small and skinny black-haired boy who’d inserted himself into his life was sat at the table his weapon’s engineer used to work. Tinkering at the bits and pieces scattered over the messy surface while Waylon himself hovered nearby.

“Are you sure that’s safe for you to be messing with kiddo?” The large, scaled man called to the boy, a hint of concern peeking through the southern twang in his accent. Elongating is ‘O’s and ‘E’s and ‘A’s.

“Yeah, it’s fine, I used to work on my parents experiments in their lab all the time,” The boy called back, and— unironically— it didn’t soothe his anxiety.

“That don’t make me feel any better squirt.”

“Well? Too bad.” This twig was going to be the cause of all Waylon’s fictitious gray hairs, he was calling it now.

Instead of lecturing the kid on safety, Waylon simply ruffled his hair with his large, clawed hands and left him to his devices.

[velvetydream]

꒰ : 🪐 [ Academic Rivalry - 산 ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

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Pairing : Choi San x fem! Reader , very short Seonghwa x Reader but important for the plot and no feelings between them

Summary : You've hated San your entired life, from him being better than you in every subject to your parents telling you to be more like him. Though.. was it really hate or something else you felt?

Word count : 4.3K Words

Genre/Warnings : Enemies to Lovers - Fluff, Academic Rivals

a/n : After alot of very dissapointing events, I decided to write a lil cheer up fic for @moilele , hope u enjoy it dear!♡

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He was irritating, the bane of your existence. His voice alone annoyed you, his stupid face way too handsome for his stupid personality.

Choi San, the top student in sports, is rivaling you in any other subject as he scores almost always a little higher than you. Your parents, being friends, always compared you to him. Be a bit more like San; look how well San is doing, San, San, San. Anyone was only able to see and say San, the girls falling at his feet, the boys wanting to be like him.

Snap!

Looking down now at the pencil you snapped with your hand, Mingi looking at you concerned from his spot beside you. "Uhm.. you broke your pencil.." He mutters, making you roll your eyes as you throw the broken pen away into the depths of your bag. "Thanks, Mingi, I didn't know.." You mumble, even more, annoyed when your ears pick up that stupid deep laugh of San sitting at the back with Jung Wooyoung and Kang Yeosang. The little trio being the absolute worst nightmare of yourself. They always acted so smug, so high above everyone, just because their parents had money and they were doing well in school.

"She's definitely annoyed by San again." Yunho snickers as he looks over to you from his seat beside Mingi. "He is annoying, and my parents told me last night how they'd be coming over this weekend for dinner. Means I'll have to listen to them praise him the whole evening.." Wanting to slam your head against the table, you didn't as the professor walked in, starting his lecture. Luckily, San and his little group of friends, for once, stayed quiet and didn't interfere much.

"Can't you just ditch the dinner though?" Mingi asks as he starts packing up his bag, making you shake your head. No, you couldn't cause the lecture you'd get then would be far worse than spending one evening with Choi San. "Guess you'll have to endure it, but hey, we can hand out together Sunday then, to make the weekend a little less dreading." Patting your shoulder, Yunho takes his bag as the three of you leave the room and make your way to the cafeteria. He was right; it was one evening, and you would survive that dinner for sure. Or so you thought.

"Oh, San! Always so polite! Thank you!" Your mother beams as he helps her bring everything to the table, a smirk being sent your way. "Seriously Y/n, take an example from San!" Your mom praises him as everyone takes a seat; you just want to leave this dinner immediately. The moment San and his parents entered your home, your mother was all over him, saying how well he looked and what a charming young man he was. The dinner continued quietly, till your father had to bring up academics. "So San, I heard from your father how well you're doing, top of each class and a little sports star huh?" Smiling bashfully San nods, wanting to gag at his little shy act. "Yes, Sir, I've spent a lot of time studying and putting my other time into sports; I'd love to pursue a good job in the future with a lot of possibilities." Clapping a bit beside you, your mother praises the young man. "A son like you, Y/n you should really learn from him, maybe he can even tutor you a bit in what was it.. maths? Where you were doing not so well!" Looking at her, offended now that she had to say that in front of San, who smirked at you. "Of course, ma'am, I'm top of my class in maths; I'd love to tutor our dear Y/n to help her out." Oh, how you wanted to just punch that stupid smirk off of his face.

After dinner, your parents asked you to clean the dishes while they took a seat outside on the porch. "What a stupid asshole, oh how I'd love to punch that stupid smirk off of his stupid face." Mumbling to yourself as you clean the dishes, not noticing a presence behind you. "How lovely you talk about me, you probably meant to say stupidly handsome face?" Shrieking together at the voice, you spin around to come face to face with San, your hands dripping with water and soap from scrubbing the plates. "No, I meant what I said; now get out." Wanting to turn back around, he quickly cages you between his arms. "Darling maybe be a bit nicer to your tutor." Fingers grab your chin as he lifts your head to look into your eyes, clearly seeing the same emotions of disdain you hold for him. "Yeah sure, fuck off." Pushing his hand away, you turn around to continue cleaning as he leaves with an annoyed click of his tongue.

Finally, he was gone again, resting your forehead against the hanging cupboards slightly, a sigh leaving your exhausted body. Choi San was so fucking irritating.

The following day, luckily, was spent with Mingi and Yunho at the mall, enjoying some ice cream before having to go back to university the next day. Of course, the day had to end with your most hated subject, math. Sending a smug look your way as San walks past you, now knowing fully well how bad you're in this class, while he was a top student yet again. "Miss Y/n would you mind staying a minute after the lecture?" The professor now asks you as everyone packs their belongings together, nodding as you watch everyone leave the room. "You're very close to failing this class.. Is it my teaching? Can something maybe help you?" The elderly man asks now, always wanting to make sure his students at least pass. "I really don't know sir.. I study a lot, yet I still don't understand everything.." Looking down at your hands, frustrated now, how is it that you're working your ass off, trying to score well, yet you always seem to fail.

"Maybe I can help? I could tutor her; our parents are friends, so we know each other." Head shooting up at the agitating voice coming from the main door. "Oh really?! That would be great! Then I leave her grade in your hands mister!" The professor exclaims happily, as he grabs his bag and bids you two his goodbye for the day. "Are you insane?! Why would I want you to tutor me?!" Shouting at him now, his stupid smirk showing his dimples, as his short dark hair frames his face perfectly. Screw him. "Because you need my help, sweetheart, or else, you will fail, and your parents will just be even more disappointed in you." Laughing into your face now, you quickly walk past him, shoving his shoulder while doing so. "I'll text you the meet-up spot!" San shouts after you, laughing as you flip him off.

This was your worst nightmare coming true.

So this is how you find yourself in front of a luxury apartment complex San had sent the address to you of. Murmuring annoyed to yourself how he lived in such a wealthy apartment all by himself while you still had to live at home, annoyed the hell out of you. Pressing the button, it takes a few seconds for San to answer, telling you to come to the 8th floor. Pressing the button in the elevator, you wait for it to arrive at the correct floor before stepping out, moving to the only slightly open door. "Come in, I'm cooking right now." He calls over to you, making you roll your eyes. Of course, he had to cook exactly right now when you were on time. "Take a seat at the aisle; I can tutor you while cooking; the math topic is pretty easy." Motioning for the high chairs, you take a seat, already frustrated, pulling out your notes and iPad. "So where is your problem? Is it the way or the overall understanding?" Talking to you so easily while seasoning whatever he was cooking made your blood boil. First, he brings you into this situation, and then he won't even properly tutor you? Asshole.

"It's the way, I understand what I'm supposed to do, but it confuses me how to get there." He nods, taking your notes from you and scanning over them quickly. Giving them back, he starts to explain the easiest way, making you try and follow while he explains, taking notes of what he is saying. Despite not wanting to admit it, you slowly understood with his help and explanation of the math problem.

"Do you understand it now?" Looking at you, smiling when you slowly nod. This was the worst humiliation you ever experienced, admitting to Choi San helping you. "See, not that hard, maybe you should be a bit nicer to me, then I can help you more~" There he is again, with his smug attitude. "You're annoying as fuck; why do you always need to act so high and mighty." Packing together now annoyed, you've had enough of him acting this way. "Woah, nice words, please; I don't get your problem with me, you've hated me since forever, and I did nothing." He follows you to the direction of his door now, watching you put on your shoes.

"That's exactly the problem! You're oh so great at everything without trying, while I work my ass off and still fail! My parents praise you every time even when you're not around! I hate this! You're oh so perfect and I have to endure this shit!" While shouting at him, you struggle a bit with your shoes, not noticing him approaching you slowly with a dark look in his eyes until you're standing up straight again, and the next second, your back collides with the door. "That's what you think? That I get handed everything on a silver plate? Says the little princess that never had to work a single day in her life, while I had to work my ass off for my parents to even support me, you never had to worry a single day, and yes I might not need to study that much like others, doesn't mean I don't work for it." The words he spits at you are venomous, and you are not able to look away from the scowl on his face.

"I don't care! You're annoying! You think so much of yourself and have to pull me into it! I hate you!" And with that Choi San had enough, pressing his lips roughly against yours to finally shut you up. "Will you shut up finally? I never intended for you to hate me! I even wanted to be friends when we were kids; it's not my fault either of our parents acted like that!" Eyes wide as you watch San in silence, pushing him away as you quickly exit the apartment, him simply watching you as the door slowly closes.

Clutching over your heart with heavy breath in the elevator, your body felt hot, blushing heavily. It wasn't the fact that you were mad; it wasn't that you hated that he kissed you. No.. you hated the fact it did something to you, the fact you felt butterflies in your stomach, having felt a spark between you two. Yunho and Mingi would go crazy when you tell them.

Arriving at home, your mom asks how the tutoring went, ignoring her and going straight to your room, face-planting on your bed before screaming into the pillow. You hated him, you hated his guts, you hated his personality, but you didn't hate the kiss, you didn't hate the butterflies he gave you while pinning you against the door, the spark he ignited when his lips met yours. It was irritating, just as much as he is.

After staring at the wall for a while, you slowly sit up again, exhaling loudly, seriously, what is with him? Why does he have to be so annoying? Touching your lips now, you could still basically feel his soft lips on your own; shaking your head. Now, you end up taking a cold shower to get those thoughts out of your head.

But you couldn't; nothing helped; not the cold shower, not watching your favorite show, not listening to music,, and falling asleep was also almost impossible. Though plagued by San, his soft lips, his broad body, and his strong hands, you wanted to cry from how much he was haunting your mind right now. So, in the end, you barely ended up sleeping and went to school sleep-deprived, Mingi laughing at the big circles under your eyes before Yunho scolded the younger of the two. "But seriously, you don't look well. Shouldn't you stay at home?" Shaking your head at Yunho's question, no, you couldn't afford to miss any classes, especially math. "I'll be fine, but thanks for worrying about me." Giving him a small smile, before listening to the professor again.

In the end, Yunho was right; you should've stayed at home; your body wasn't used to barely getting any sleep, so a hard migraine soon hit you, groaning and massaging your temple, trying to follow anything the professor was saying. "Miss Y/n, could you please come to the front and solve the problem?" Great of course he had to ask you out of all the people here, standing up on shaking legs. Your feet slowly carry you to the front of the class, the whole room spinning as you take the chalk into your hand. "Sir I don't think Y/n is doing so well." Sans voice cut in, as the professor looks at you. Body looking exhausted, deep rings under your eyes, your eyes slightly red, and your handshaking.

Just as he wanted to ask if you'd like to go to the infirmary, your body was falling, being caught by someone before hitting the floor. "I'll take her." Vision blurry so you couldn't tell who it was, Mingi? Or Yunho? Probably one of them, so you just rest your head on the person's shoulder as they carry your weak body to the infirmary. And the next thing you know is waking up alone, sitting up slowly, the migraine still slightly torturing your head. "Wouldn't think a simple kiss makes you lose your whole mind." Head shooting up as San moves to behind the curtain of your bed, a glass of water in his hand. "Here drink." Placing the water into your hands now he watches you gulp down the cool liquid.

"Here, the nurse gave me some sugar to give you when you wake up." Looking at the little candy in his hand, you take it, letting it slowly dissolve on your tongue, lips pulled into a slight pout. "You're really something; why did you come when you barely slept or at least went home when you got a migraine,e, hm?" Sitting down beside you, his hand reaches out to massage just the right spot in your neck, the pain stopping for a moment. "This is all your fault.. Why did you have to kiss me? I could've simply gone on my day and slept normally, but no, you had to confuse me." At that he dares to laugh, making you glare at him. "You were talking too much, so I shut you up." At that, you push his hand away, hitting his shoulder annoyed. "You're so annoying! Don't just kiss me! What is wrong with you! I wanted to leave!" San lets you hit his shoulder a bit to get your anger out, before grabbing your hands to still them.

"Are you mad I kissed you or are you mad you liked it?" Shutting you up with those words as your eyes grow wide, immediately turning your head to the side. "O-Of course because you just kissed me! I didn't like it!" Smiling at you now, he leans closer from his spot on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure? Seems like you're lying to me~" Hands still held in his, you look down at them, they're bigger than yours, holding yours so perfectly. "N-No! I didn't like it!" You lie again, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans closer to whisper in your ear, butterflies coming to life again in your stomach. "Then maybe I should kiss you so much more till you don't lie and admit how much you loved it~" His voice was deep in your ears as you shook your head, trying to push him away.

This shouldn't be happening, you shouldn't be feeling like this. You hated Choi San; he was annoying, a brat, yet here he was, making your heartbeat pick up.

"Well, rest well; I'll see you later." And with that he leaves, leaving you all flustered and frustrated.

"What do you mean he kissed you?!" Mingi screeches from his place in the passenger driver's seat, turning his body to look at you in the back. "How I said it, he kissed me and.. He continues to try to get closer and.. Wh, is he so annoying?!" Slamming your head against the window, making Yunho scream in protest to now bang your head against his car. "Maybe he likes you? I mean, you never really talked to him; you decided to hate him since day one, didn't you?" Yunho was right; you barely even gave him a chance as your parents immediately started praising him and comparing you to him, while his parents just boosted him about how amazing their son is. "Why don't you give him a chance? He obviously seems to like you despite how you treated him for years." Mingis chirps in now, looking at you, watching you shake your head now. "Never, he probably just does this to get on my nerves." Both of the boys look at you, doubting, but stay quiet now on the topic.

"Seonghwa! Hongjoong!" Running over to the two waiting man, you happily embrace both of them, staying in Seonghwas arms much longer. "Hello darling how are you? And how are you two? Sorry we couldn't meet up recently, Hongjoong and I have been away on jobs abroad." Hongjoong was a designer for his own very famous brand and Seonghwa was his main model, they were a few years older yet still were at university when you started, that's also how you guys met. "No worries! Just glad you two are back! Missed you alot! How was Paris?" Looking at them, Hongjoong smiles as he starts to talk about the event they attended and how beautiful Paris was, saying how they'd take you with them next time.

"So how is it going with San? Still annoyed by him?" Seonghwa asks now, watching you roll your eyes, as Mingi already interferes. "He kisses her, and since then,n, she has been confused!" Making the two older men look at you shocked while you hit Mingi on the back of his head, making him whine. "Out of the blue?" Hongjoong questions now as you nod, explaining the whole situation to them. "It could be that you're feeling that way because it was your first kiss; maybe that's why you're feeling all those butterflies and felt a spark." Seonghwas words held some truth; it could definitely be that, in the end, you never had your first kiss, and San just stole it.

The whole dinner, those thoughts were stuck in your head. Was it really just because it was your first kiss, or was it because it was San?

"Hey, you're up in your pretty head." Seonghwa comes to walk beside you, a few meters behind the others. "I'm just confused. I have hated him for my whole life, and now he kisses me, and I get all flustered and giddy, yet I don't know if it's because of him or because I got kissed." Listening closely, the handsome man beside you nods, coming to a halt beside you. "Do you want help to figure it out?" Now you looked at Seonghwa confused, who softly smiled at you, not really knowing how anyone could help you figure this out, yet you still nodded. "Pardon me then." His hand reaches out to hold your cheek softly, as he tilts your head up and locks your lips with his. Seonghwas lips felt different; unlike San, he was very soft and careful, warm, and tasted a little bit like a strawberry. His lips smooth from taking proper care of them. Yet you felt no sparks and definitely no butterfly as he pulls away.

"So?" Smiling at you, already seeing the gears turn in your head, having figured out that it was San causing the butterflies and not because you got kissed. "You should talk to him, darling; maybe you have done him wrong by being so mean to him; maybe he is different than you think." Patting your head softly, looking ahead as Hongjoong shouts for the two of you, grabbing your hand as he pulls you after the other three men.

That night you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while holding your plush bunny to your chest, finally having enough as you grab your phone and open San contact. Barely any conversation was in the chat. For a second, you think about what to write till you quickly type in. 'If you're serious about this, I'll give you one chance tomorrow at 6 pm, Han River.' Hitting send, you quickly exit the chat, throwing your phone on your fluffy carpet as your body falls back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling nervously. At the same time, in Sans's apartment, he got all giddy, already rummaging through his closet for a perfect outfit, thinking of what he should bring along, make a picnic basket with some fruits?

The next day, you wait at the exact place you told San to meet up, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet you had on, as a tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. San stood behind you in casual yet fitting clothes. "Hey, I didn't know what your plan was, so I just brought some snacks." He shows you the bag of snacks as you nod at him. "That's fine; I thought we could watch the sunset; I brought a blanket." Following you through the few people already sitting on the grass, you two find a nice spot, a bit away from everyone else as you take a seat.

"So.. what made you change your mind?" Looking up from munching on a few chocolate cookies, you swallow before answering him. "A friend helped me figure something out that made me change my mind." Keeping it vague, San senses he probably shouldn't ask any further. "I'm glad, really; whatever that friend did, tell him to thank you for making you give me a chance finally." His dimples show as he smiles. You two continue to talk a bit, not once mentioning university, grades, or your parents, making you realize the problem wasn't San but your parents. San told you about his hobbies, but you didn't even know he was in a little dance crew with Wooyoung and Yeosang, he even went so far as showing you a few clips when they were filming in the streets; you even complimented him, which he blushed. Telling him about yourself more now, he listened intently as if trying to remember every little thing you tell him.

"San.." Looking from the setting sun to you, he murmurs to tell you to continue talking. "I'm sorry for how I have treated you.. I gave you the fault for how my parents treated me; I think I just tried to find a scapegoat, and you were just there." It felt good to finally apologize to him directly; you definitely now needed a long talk with your parents, though. "Hey no worries, I never gave up because I hoped someday you would give me a chance, even if it was just as a friend." Nodding at that, you're glad he wasn't mad at you, though you wouldn't take offense if he did. After all, you were awful to him since the day you two met.

"May I ask a favor of you?" The voice was small, already flustered from what you were about to ask him. "Sure, what is it?" San looked at you, sensing your shyness. He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. "Can you kiss me again?" His eyes light up and without a second word, he locks his lips with yours. Sparks flew as his lips met yours, butterflies erupting in your stomach, and now you for sure knew it was San causing those emotions and not just being simply kissed; you had to thank Seonghwa later for making you realize this. The kiss lasted a bit longer than the first time because you, of course, kissed him back, eyes closed as his other hand came to cup your cheek.

"I can't believe you're the one causing butterflies in my stomach in the end.." You mumble against his lips, making the man before you laugh, feeling your stomach turn at that again, your cheeks flushing red. Maybe it wasn't hate this whole time you felt, but adoration, longing, not knowing what those emotions felt like.

"Remember how you used to hate me?" San asks you with a smirk, leaning over the back to the couch of your shared apartment as you groan; even after years of dating now, he still brings that up. "Seriously, shut up, please! I explained it to you!" Wanting to hide your face in a pillow, you couldn't as San tilted your head back, looking into your eyes before sealing his lips with yours. "I'm just teasing you and hey, you can always shut me up the way I did." Smirking he runs back to the kitchen as you want to hit him for flustering you so much.

[vandnana]

In Love With The Enemy [IV]

Chapter 4: Toruk Makto Will Disappear

pairing: lo’ak x female turned na’vi reader

summary: during the time when jake became toruk makto, you were quaritch’s youngest and most valued soldier, the daughter he never had. but, pandora changed you and you died during the final battle, betraying quaritch and wishing that you had been able to do more. now, you have been reborn again, as a na’vi, tasked with quaritch’s new military avatar crew to kill Jake Sully. taking advantage of this second chance at life, you help the Sullys and fall in love along the way.

genre: fluff, angst ~ slow burn, pining on lo’ak’s part.

warnings: mentions of blood, war, violence

highlights: [jake and reader having moments as best friends, mo'at throwing down wisdom, classic sully sibling bickering, more of reader's backstory with quaritch, lo'ak and reader moments!]

word count: 13,394

note: i'm back from the dead like our dear reader with a long awaited update! i am so sorry to my lovers clan for taking so long. for everybody who has waited so patiently, thank you. and for all who are new, welcome!

| prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 |

When Spider awoke, he was immediately blinded by fluorescent lights that hung above him, his head aching as he sat up. The steel of the platform he was lying on made his body feel cold, and as he looked around the room, windowless and white, his heart felt cold too, the lack of life around him so bewildering and unfamiliar. Shifting, he winced, and looking down he found a wound on his right arm—a gash that he had earned while falling onto the forest ground, bandaged with a white wrapping.

Then, he instantly thought of you, overcome with worry as he wondered if you were alright.

Everything had happened so fast.

One moment, you had finally made up with him and you had solidified that bond while flying to the Tree of Souls—that sense of togetherness irreplaceable in his heart.

But before he even had time to truly cherish that moment, the unthinkable happened. Stuck, captured, and alone, Spider's anger and frustration overwhelmed him, his breathing rapid suddenly as he took his emotions out on the walls that kept him. Banging on the double glass, he yelled out with fury, knowing that his captors were watching on the other side.

He struck the glass and the walls until his hands hurt and his knuckles bled, the pain of the impact from the metal clouded by that rage. In truth, he was so exhausted, but he kept on going, the fire inside fueling him as he goaded the soldiers to face him.

Then, suddenly the doors of the room opened, revealing the group of soldiers that had captured him, “Looks like Jungle boy’s awake.” Zdinarsk said with a half-grin.

Spider hissed, bearing his teeth, but that only caused a roll of laughter from each of the soldiers.

“So, you think you’re one of them.” There was a pause as the soldiers stepped aside to reveal who the voice belonged to.

It was Quaritch, his demeanor distant and demanding as he inspected Spider, frowning as he looked at him, intensely displeased, “What’s your name boy?”

Spider didn’t answer, glaring at him bitterly, the defiance making Quaritch’s blood boil. He took one of his guns out, laughing slightly as he unlocked the safety, “I’m only gonna ask you nicely one more time, but after that it’s gonna hurt.”

Spider hesitated before caving in. He gritted his teeth as he responded, meeting Quaritch's eyes with vileness, “Who are you? Tell me that and maybe I’ll answer.”

“Colonel Quaritch.” He let his eyes go to the gun, before eyeing Spider again, “Now again, boy, what’s your name?”

Spider's eyes only widened for a moment before he could feel his rage summit within him, scorn undercutting that growing anger as he scoffed, “Don’t you recognize your own son?”

It wasn't until this moment that Spider realized how much he longed to face his father, to finally look the man who didn't want him in the eye.

The rest of the soldiers teetered, all of them sharing shock as they looked at him. The last time they had seen him, he was only a baby, and here he was in front of all them— grown-up.

Quaritch put the gun down, stepping backward for a moment as he felt a sudden throb afflict his heart, “Miles?” He paused, kneeling down, the twinge in his heart making itself known as he spoke again, this time softer, quieter, “Thought they would have sent you back to earth.”

“So, that's what you named me huh? My name is Spider, and they can’t put babies in cryo, dipshit.” Spider spat, crossing his arms as he kept a snarl on his face.

Quaritch was stunned.

What did he feel for this kid? Guilt? Love? Sadness? Relief? For the briefest moment, he let his resolve down, the realization of who Spider was unexpectedly softening his expression, whispers of those emotions attempting to breach the surface.

To the rest of the regiment it was unperceived, the mask of his steely glare lending his usual gruff. But, Spider saw it clearly. In that blink of time, the awareness of his father's startling vulnerability gripped him, anchoring itself into his mind and forcing its weight onto his heart.

This was the moment that Spider had waited for. He had expected to be angry and stay angry, to affix betrayal, heartache, and pain to the man in front of him who was supposed to be his family. And yet, he felt a tenderness grow within him, an unforeseen ache that he couldn't define or perhaps, didn't want to define.

Like his father, he maintained his reserve of anger as he spit again at them, pushing down whatever was brewing in him and remembering why he was with them and what was at stake for the Sullys.

Turning to Zdinarsk, Quaritch ordered coldly, “Take him to Ardmore and the science pukes. We’ll see what he knows.” Aggressively, Zdinarsk grabbed Spider by the back of the neck, the rest of the soldiers escorting him out into the hallway with Quaritch behind them.

Quaritch was barely dealing with his loss of you, and now, he had his other child with him. He didn’t know what to think, only that his memories allowed him a fraction of affection compared to what he had for you.

Leading him into one of the main console rooms, they were met by General Ardmore, her hands behind her back as she looked at Spider up and down. The soldiers snickered as Spider fought against their strong grips, amused by his pointless attempt at escape.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She motioned toward the large contraption in the middle of the room, a device unlike anything Spider had ever seen before, "Strap him in."

Zdinarsk pushed Spider onto the vertical piece of white metal of the contraption, securing him with the accompanying restraints. Over his face, Wainfleet fastened a clear plastic mask and tightening it, Spider could feel the pressure focus itself on every part of his skull.

He saw Ardmore ahead of him through what appeared to be a green membrane within the device's overall metal structure, "Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

She paused to lean forward, her glare intense, "Where is Jake Sully hiding?"

"I. Don't. Know." The disdain in Spider's voice was evident as he dragged out every syllable.

Sighing, Ardmore stepped backward, pressing a large red button beside her, "I thought you might say that."

A loud whirring sound erupted from the device, triggering it on as the green membrane slowly started to spin. Immediately, the pressure he had felt before became a burning sensation. Like a singe to every synapse, Spider's brain was on fire, the intensity of it building and building.

"Feel that? That's the radiation reading your brain or rather frying it. Good for us, not so good for you. So, I'll ask you again, where is Jake Sully?" Ardmore yelled out.

Spider could barely see her now, the motion of the radiation screen dizzying him, "I told you I don't know! You're gonna have to kill me!"

Quaritch and the other soldiers watched from the clear glass room behind Ardmore, their eyes switching between Spider and the holographic projection of his brain. The scientists helping Ardmore were observing his brain activity, but they detected no viable information, shaking their heads when Ardmore turned around for an update.

"You're gonna have to do better than "I don't know," Keeping her composure, her tone was clear, but she was beginning to get frustrated by Spider's stubbornness, "There's no use in hiding the truth. Just form a thought and we'll see it. Now, where is his base? Is it in the Floating Mountains? Where is he?"

Over and over and over again, it was the same question and the same answer, every second of resistance tormenting him.

Quaritch, on the outside, was apathetic and uncaring, his arms crossed as he stood tall amongst his regiment. But, something inside of him snapped when Spider’s nose began to bleed and his eyes began to roll backwards. Marching out of the room, he pressed the red button, the spinning of the device halting immediately.

He turned over to Ardmore, his own request surprising him, “General, Let me try the old-fashioned approach.”

Zdinarsk and Wainfleet took Spider back to his steel cell, and it was clear that he had been weakened, his usual aggressions no longer a problem for them as they easily grabbed hold of him.

Ardmore raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased as she reluctantly nodded, “He’s not your child.”

She was right. He wasn’t Quaritch’s child. He never was.

You were.

But because of Lyle's lie, Quaritch only knew you to be dead.

He sighed, exhaling as he ached over missing you so badly. Even he couldn't believe his own actions, rationalizing that it was the Na'vi part of him that arose a subconscious motivation for caring about the son he knew he never wanted. Although he hated to be in the form of his enemy, he only realized how relieved, how grateful, he felt to be by your side again. While he reveled in fulfilling his vengeance, it was you who had made this new resurgence of life worth living. And it hurt more to recognize that it took you being gone from him for that feeling to settle.

Quaritch waited a while before he finally entered the cell, the opening of the doors revealing Spider sitting on the platform he had woken up on, his knees up and his arms resting on them.

Filling the room was an awkward tension, the two staring at one another before Quaritch knelt down, “From what I remember, I know I wasn’t the best father to you."

Spider huffed, crossing his arms and turning his back away from him.

Sitting down, he took his son by the arm, pulling him forward and forcing him to face him in the eye, "Look, I only cared for my daughter. I admit that. And now that she's dead I—“

“Your daughter? Dead?” In his disbelief, Spider's mouth gaped, eyebrows raised and his forehead crinkled.

Quaritch was visibly bothered, the slightest wince showing in the crinkling of his eyes as he answered the question, “I came here to kill Jake Sully," He lowered his eyes, his voice like the sound of a hiss as he sneered, "And now that he's killed her, just like he did when I was human, I really can't let him live."

Gulping, Spider nodded, biting his tongue as he withheld the truth, unsure of what would ensue if he let out that you were alive.

Changing his demeanor, Quaritch let go of Spider's arm, resting his palms on the top of his thighs. Quaritch appealed to his son with a brightened tone, “I’m not gonna ask you to give up Sully. I know you’d never do that. You’re loyal.”

He paused again, gritting his teeth, “But so am I. I’m not letting my little girl die in vain. You and me, we’re nothing to each other, really. So, you don’t have to think of me as your father.”

Quaritch paused, looking out at the door, the glint of worry in his eyes betraying his previous words, “But, just ride along, okay? Otherwise, I’ll have to give you back to Ardmore.”

Spider reluctantly nodded, and seeing that confirmation, Quaritch left. Spider watched his father go, and although Quaritch seemed to maintain his stern appearance, Spider could distinguish the agony he felt inside over losing you.

How could he not?

He laid back down on the platform, rubbing his temples. He suddenly felt conflicted. Finally meeting his father, Spider saw Quaritch for who he was. He was a military man all the way, hard and callous. But, underneath that harsh exterior, he saw so clearly how much he loved you. Guilt washed over him without warning. Spider hated that he felt guilty for keeping you being alive a secret, hated that in the presence of the man that rejected him, he could only be silent.

But, he also felt guilty for the small part of him that was actually glad his father didn’t know the truth. Because without you, even for a momentary time, maybe Quaritch would finally see him as his son.

He had finally looked the man in the eye, and he hated himself for suddenly feeling so torn. Yet, it was an inner feeling he just couldn't control. Spider couldn’t help but care about what his father thought of him suddenly, couldn’t help but want some sort of approval from the man who rejected him.

He scolded himself for thinking so selfishly, so stupidly. Turning to his side and closing his eyes, Spider pushed those thoughts away, reminding himself why he ended up where he was in the first place.

He was uncertain about what he would face with the regiment, but he knew one thing.

The Sullys' safety, your safety—he would do what he could to ensure it.

-

“What happened?” Jake angrily yelled as Lo’ak carried you off his ikran.

Neytiri was beside him, attending to Kiri and Tuk, both of them crying hysterically as Kiri repeated with a trembling voice, “Spider, they took him! They took him!”

Jake could only focus on you though, his mind warping reality as fear and panic came over him. You were practically lifeless, your arms dangling over and your head tilted backward. It was exactly how you looked when he was holding your dying body.

He quickly ran to you, taking your body from Lo'ak's arms.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Jake called to you, his voice almost breaking as he felt your pulse, only slight relief coming to him as you showed just the weakest sign of life.

Turning his attention back on Lo’ak, he repeated his original question, nostrils flaring as he slowly spoke, every syllable enthralled with his simmering anger, “What happened?”

"It was my fault, sir. I-" Neteyam began, stepping forward in front of his brother per usual.

But Jake shook his head at his oldest son, "I wasn't asking whose fault it was," His eyes turned to Lo'ak suddenly, Jake's fatherly instinct already getting ahead of him, "I asked what happened."

The fury in his voice deepened the shame in both the brothers, the two looking at one another before Lo'ak finally spoke up, "She wanted to stay here at the camp, but I insisted on flying. Everything happened at the Tree of Souls. She connected to it and then something happened. She stopped responding and then the soldiers came and then...they took Spider,” Lo'ak kept his eyes on his father, the guilt in his eyes evident in their glint, “I’m sorry sir.”

Jake and Neytiri looked at one another worriedly. Then, taking Kiri and Tuk's hands, she walked away with them, ushering calm words of reassurance to abate their cries.

Knowing the truth, Jake could feel his gut turn as his anger mixed with a feeling of unsettlement. Jake glanced at you for a moment before his eyes went back to Lo’ak, “I'm taking y/n to your grandma. Until she wakes up, I don't want you anywhere near her. Now go attend to the ikran.” His eyes went to Neteyam, “Both of you.”

“But Dad, let me–”

“You’ve done enough.”

Lo'ak stepped backward suddenly as the sting of his father's words lashed at him.

Jake expected retaliation, expected the usual defiance from his youngest son, but instead Lo'ak kept his head down, his shame evident. He lingered for only a second more before walking away in the direction of Mo'at's tent.

"Why can't you just listen, little bro?" Neteyam placed what was meant to be a comforting hand on Lo'ak's shoulder, but Lo'ak only swatted it away.

"How can I wait around until she wakes up? With how she is now, that could be hours," He paused, his eyes widening in slight panic, "Or days!"

"Calm down, bro. Grandma will know how to heal her. For now, the best that you can do for her is follow Dad's orders. Come on, we have to see to the ikran."

"Bro, no. It's my fault that this happened to her. I have to make sure she's okay." Lo'ak defied, already walking backwards toward the tent.

Neteyam couldn't believe what he was hearing. Turning to face his ikran, he teased Lo'ak loudly, "Wow! My baby brother is actually taking responsibility for his actions! That crush of his has made him less of a skxawng than usual."

Lo'ak heard him from a distance, halting then turning on his heels, "You're just asking to get beat up. You know that?"

"It would be entertaining to see you try. As if you would even stand a chance against the mighty warrior that I am," Neteyam crossed his arms, proud of his retort as his lips curled upwards into a broad, smug smile.

"You know what, I'm actually going to wait until after y/n wakes up, so she can watch me pummel you," Lo'ak punched his fist into his other palm with a satisfied smirk, "It'll make my victory over you even sweeter."

Nodding, Neteyam took the opportunity to get under Lo'ak's skin, faking a serious tone as he stepped away from the ikrans, "That's a good idea actually. I should definitely come with you to check on y/n."

"Woah, woah, woah," Lo'ak blocked Neteyam's path, standing earnestly in front of him with his hand out, "We don't need a third wheel right now, thank you very much."

Lowering his little brother's hand, he cocked his head to the side, amused as he let out a chuckle, "I cannot believe how jealous you get Lo'ak, really it's a marvel to see."

Lo'ak cleared his throat, "Jealous? Of you? The "mighty" warrior? You wish," Setting his gaze on the ikrans behind them, he rationalized his behavior, "And besides, bro you've got your work cut out for you. I admit being responsible is a page I took out of your book today, but you can have the page back, alright? If you come too, who's gonna do what Dad told us to do?"

"Of course, of course, what he told us to do, I will go and do it." Neteyam rolled his eyes, "But what are you going to do when Dad sees you?"

"Have you met me bro?" Lo'ak let a breath out, confidently patting his chest with his right hand, "He won't see me."

Leaving Neteyam without another word, Lo'ak turned and began to stealthily maneuver his way through the camp. While the forefront of his thoughts focused on wondering if you were alright, the back of his mind was playing his brother's words on a loop.

Neteyam was right.

It wasn't like him to act this way. Wherever Lo'ak was so was trouble, and he had grown used to trying to save his own ass with any excuse he could think of.

But this time was different. It wasn't about him. It was about you.

Back at the Tree of Souls, he couldn't let his emotions get the best of him, too focused on getting you to safety. The first shade of horrified panic when you didn't wake up, the fear that ran through him when he was dodging bullets and holding your body, the urgency he was chasing to get you back to base— now, everything he suppressed, he felt all at once. And veiling it all was that persistent effect you've had on him since the day you met. He knew he liked you. He just never realized how much.

-

Jake was holding back his tears as he carried you, whispering, "Everything's going to be fine, y/n."

It was like you were dying in his arms all over again. Your pulse was weak, your skin pale as he laid you down gently in front of Mo'at. She had already sensed the disturbance near the Tree of Souls, her herbs already prepared beside her as she took your face into her hands.

"Will she live, Mo'at?" Jake asked, and as he said those words, it took him back to the day when he first asked you to save her.

"She is merely unconscious. You forget, Toruk Makto, what I told you all those years ago about y/n. The Great Mother still holds her in Her heart. She is not gone from us forever. Her soul has truly been reborn and she has finally connected with the Great Mother."

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, blinking at her as his eyes urged for her to continue.

She placed the herb paste from the palm of your hands to the nape of your neck, then positioned two fingers at your temples, "When y/n was pulled away from the Great Mother, her spirit was still attached, while her body was separated too quickly. She is just now finding her way back."

Jake managed to give her a small smile, her words providing him comfort amidst the turmoil already brewing in his mind.

"I will take care of her here." Mo'at added to her daughter's reassurance, "Now go. I am certain that you have much to discuss with my daughter." She lowered her eyes at Jake, her intuition directing her.

Jake hesitated leaving you, but ultimately heeded Mo'at's request. Lo'ak, from a distance, watched as his father walked away. He hurried over to you, and as if Jake knew he was there, he turned around abruptly, prompting Lo'ak to dive to the ground as he ducked behind a crate of boxes. Squinting and seeing nothing, Jake turned his head forward, making his way to Neytiri.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Lo'ak got up, walking over calmly. When he got there, Mo'at was rubbing your temples, her words to the Great Mother echoing through the tent as she guided your spirit back to your body. He stepped in as quietly as possible, but even with her eyes closed, Mo'at was aware of his presence, lifting her right hand to motion him closer as she continued to speak her prayers to the Great Mother. Lo'ak knelt down beside you, crossing his legs underneath him, his gaze strictly fixated on you.

You could hear Mo'at's voice like a murmur at first, then it felt like a shout from the distance. Feeling as if you were floating in a body of water, you were carried by your own consciousness, your senses all coming back to you slowly.

The void you were in was no longer dark nothingness as her voice called to you, signs of life materializing as flecks of light became visible to you and sensations became known to you again. Light continued to shimmer in front of you and around that light were the spirits of the Great Mother, wispy as they cascaded up and down. Within yourself, you felt tingly and looking down, you watched as your body went from a transparent white to your familiar blue skin.

Outstretching your hands, the Great Mother’s spirits made their way to you, the light behind them becoming bigger and bigger. They surrounded you from head to toe, and beyond was Mo’at’s voice. As you focused on it, it amplified, becoming louder and louder until it felt like she was right beside you, her words clapping at you like thunder as your eyes shot open and your body instantly arose.

Lo'ak leaned forward, his happy relief evident as he called out to you smiling, "Y/n! You're okay, you're ok—." You punched him square in the jaw sending him backwards, your body instinctively in defensive mode, as you awoke, your breathing sporadic as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings.

"Damn!" Lo'ak howled, his hand rubbing at his jaw.

When you realized it was him that you punched, you lifted yourself from your seated position, apologetic as you sat on your knees and taking his face into your hands, you uttered aloud, "I've gotta stop doing this to you."

Lo'ak huffed, letting out a chuckle as he looked up at you, enamor expressed in the way his eyes softened, "I welcome any touch of yours, y/n, even if it does give me a bruise."

"You're ridiculous," You let go of his face, smacking him on the arm before leaning back, your palms resting on the ground.

He rubbed his arm, leaning forward, "Or two."

Behind you, Lo'ak peered over at his grandma, who gave him an encouraging nod, her lips pursed together in a proud grin, "It is comforting to know that even in dire straits, your affections do not wain."

Turning your head, you blinked at her, cheeks flushing. She merely met you with an innocent smile, outstretching her hands to the two of you"Now, come make yourself useful, my grandson. I must change y/n's dressing for her shoulder."

Spinning your body, you sat with your legs crossed in front of her, and from behind Lo'ak knelt down, gently taking off the wrapping.

Wringing out water from the basin beside her, she handed it to Lo'ak, "Wipe the dried blood," Then, getting up from her seated position, she went to her table, gathering another array of herbs to put onto your wound.

"Sorry if this stings," Lo'ak warned before he began to dab the blood.

He was working so delicately, so careful not to hurt you that you put a hand over his, reassuring him, "I'm not a baby, Lo'ak. You don't have to be so gentle."

Guiding his hands, you helped him as you dug into your skin a little harsher, more blood coming off and transferring to the cloth. At your touch, Lo'ak maintained a cool composure on the outside, but he was fighting his nerves on the inside, the flush on your cheeks suddenly matching the flush that began to take its place on his.

"You know, I really am glad you're okay." His eyes went downcast, knowing that what he was about to say next would shatter the bubble of comfort you were easing into, "But, something happened at the Tree of Souls and you're not gonna like it."

Halting your movement, you put your hand down and Lo'ak retreated his own hand, placing the cloth back in the basin, "What happened Lo'ak?"

With a heavy heart, he explained, "Your regiment, they came, guns blazing. I had to get you out of there. I thought you were dying. He let a breath out, "We were flying through the forest as they were chasing us and Spider...he fell off Kiri's ikran and they took him."

Your heart dropped, mouth agape and your eyes instantly sullen, "What?"

"I'm sorry, y/n." It was all Lo'ak could say as you put your head in your hands, your mind spiraling.

This changed everything.

Your breathing became rapid as you wondered what they could be doing to him. It was obvious why they took him. They needed intel and he was the perfect captive. He was close to Jake. He knew his whole operation. He could lead them right to the base. Then you thought of your father, dread filling you as you could only imagine what he would do when he found out that Spider was his son.

Your first instinct was to get up, to fly out of the base, and save your brother, "I need to—"

Mo'at looked over, the disturbance she sensed in your heart, begging her to interject. But, Lo'ak had already gotten up with you, ready to chase after you and catching your hand before you stopped yourself, staring ahead, your eyebrows furrowed.

You felt a jab in your heart as the truth pricked at you. It was futile. You knew all too well that Jake would follow you there, and naturally so would Neytiri and the kids. Saving your brother meant a death sentence for the Sullys, and as painful as that choice was, it just wasn't a risk you were willing to take.

You sat back down and Lo'ak followed your movements, keeping his hand in yours, hoping that you felt comforted by his gesture. When he squeezed your hand, you finally looked down, pulled from your blank stare. You met his eyes, clear concern etched in the way his forehead wrinkled and his lips turned downward into a frown.

Shaking your head, you feigned not being worried, managing a smile, "Don't look at me like that. I'm okay, I promise." You sighed, "Spider's a strong kid. I know he'll be okay."

He tilted his head at you, not believing a word you were saying as he tapped your forehead lightly with two fingers, "Come on y/n, what's going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm?"

As if to comfort you, Grace's voice within your mind drowned out your worries, her consolation from your visit at the Tree of Souls echoing in your mind,

"I know you’ll defeat your father, but while you’re here, the Great Mother wants you to live freely. It’s the only way you’ll be able to fulfill your purpose."

Mo'at, with the array of herbs in a bowl handed them to Lo'ak. Unwillingly, he let go of your hand, taking it and following her instructions as she said, "Rub this into her wound in circular motions."

Kneeling down, she sat on her knees, preparing a fresh new bandage for you. You turned to your side to look at her and she met your eyes. She remained silent, but as she gazed upon you, it spoke volumes, her chasmic sense of wisdom radiating as she interpreted the spiritual halo that made itself known to her.

In the distance, you could hear your name being echoed from outside, your ears twitching at the sound, and following it came a set of footsteps nearing and nearing.

It was Tuk, running as fast as she could once she had spotted your upright figure from where she was walking with Kiri.

"Kiri! She's okay, she's okay! Look!" Her excitement bubbled through the innocence in her voice as she dragged her sister forward.

Pivoting, Lo'ak lifted his hands from your shoulder as you were met by Tuk's embrace, "Aw Tuk."

"Easy there Tuk," Kiri warned, putting a hand on your back, "Y/n's just woken up."

Kiri peered over at Lo'ak, his hand still in the bowl and scoffing, she inspected his work, squinting, "Did you—" She stopped herself, snatching the bowl from his hands.

"Hey! I was kind of in the middle of something here," Lo'ak protested, but she didn't seem to care as she retorted sarcastically "Right, and you were doing such a great job, skxawng—Move," She pushed her brother out of the way, "You should have used yanna bark sap at this stage of healing."

Mo'at raised an eyebrow at her granddaughter, impressed but slightly offended, "Oh really? And who is Tsahik?"

"You are, grandmother. But, yanna bark is better. It stings less."

Tuk sat in your lap as Kiri took over, and peering over at Lo'ak, his arms crossed, a scowl on his face, you spoke, unable to contain your laughter as memories with Grace and Jake resurfaced, "You know, the two of you remind me of your parents sometimes."

Kiri's eyes brightened hearing her mother's name, "Really? I thought that they were always friends."

Lo'ak, curious as well, perked up too, eager to learn about his father's life before the life he had now. And even Tuk listened, her eyes on you.

You nodded, "Not at first. Your dad and I had no problem being friends. We were inseparable since the day we met. But, your mom needed a little more convincing." You paused, the memory so vivid in your mind that you saw it right in front of you, "I remember how they finally became friends."

You recounted the story as if it had happened yesterday.

You were at Site 26, eating at the table of the small kitchen, Grace beside you, her usual cigarette in her mouth.

He had wheeled himself in there, a plate already ready for him as Grace urged him to sit down, "Bon appetit, Marine."

"If you're feeling extra hungry, I'm more than willing to share," You joked, picking up your fork and pretending to feed him, "Say ahh!"

He swatted your hand away with a scowl, recoiling at the smell, "You know, today I made a kill and we ate it. At least, I know where that meal came from."

He attempted to wheel himself away, but Grace protested, "Oh no you don't. As your boss, I'm telling you to take some down time. That was your other body. You need to take care of this body."

Groaning, he nodded and you took it upon yourself to put it in the microwave for him, "Don't worry about getting up, old man. I got this for you."

He sneered at you, scoffing, "You're lucky that you're younger than me, kids meal. It's not in me to fight a baby like you."

You slammed the microwave door shut, "Ha. ha. Are you sure you can even fight at all? Your aim is shot. I went to the bathroom after you and there was piss all over the seat. I think you should get your cataracts checked."

Grace let out a boisterous laugh, taking a drag out of her cigarette, "I'll kick both of your asses if you don't reel it in. Y/n, baby girl, give the man his food please. He looks like crap."

Taking it out of the microwave, you set it in front of him, taking a seat beside him as you pointed, "It's already in pieces so you won't have a hard time taking your dentures out later."

"Thanks y/n. You're so thoughtful." Jake replied sarcastically, spooning some of it in his mouth.

As he chewed, the taste unbearable, he looked around for a distraction, his eyes fixating on the pictures in front of him. Filing through them, he held one up recognizing the setting, his tone serious as he turned to Grace.

One of his first excursions with his avatar was to visit Grace's old school. Ten years of her life she put into teaching the Na'vi about Earth, just for it to become a cursed piece of history. He couldn't forget the bullet holes that adorned the walls, his curiosity getting the best of him as he held the picture up to Grace, "What did happen at the school, Grace?"

Your expression darkened, sadness overwhelming your heart as Grace took her cigarette out of her mouth, her voice cracking as she explained, "Sylwanin, Neytiri's older sister stopped coming to the school. She was angry about the bulldozers. When her and a couple warriors set one on fire, they came to the school, the RDA right on their trail. She thought that I could protect them, then they killed her right in front of Neytiri. Then, after, they never came back. I got most of the kids out, but that kind of pain," She sniffled, fighting back tears, "It reaches back through the link."

Jake could only listen, understanding dawning on him. She sighed, reclaiming a stern, distant stance as she shook her head, getting up. "Not that you would understand that feeling, right Marine? You're used to doing the killing."

Jake put his head down, shame befalling him and wanting to relieve the tension you called out to her, "Wait, Grace!"

"Don't." Jake said to you, his hand still holding the picture, scorn touching his heart, "You know better than anyone that she isn't wrong. We follow orders. It's what we do."

You tilted your head at him, taking the picture out of his hand, "Then prove her wrong, Jake. Convince Eytukan to let her back into the village. Those kids meant everything to her. And I'm sure they miss her too."

Jake mulled over your words, pursing his lips, "You know, that's not a bad idea actually," He roughed up your hair, "Thanks kid. I'll make it happen. I promise."

Within a week, Grace was back in the village, to her delighted surprise.

You waited for her to come back, leaning against the window near her pod. When she finally got out, she was smiling from ear to ear.

Lowering her eyes, she questioned you, "What?"

You nudged her with your elbow. "Not bad for a Marine, huh?"

She shook her head, in disbelief, "I should have known you put him up to this. This had you," She put a hand up in front of you, tracing your outline as she continued, "Written all over it."

"But he did it, didn't he?" You argued, and she fell silent, rolling her eyes at you.

"Look, Jake's always going to be that Marine at heart, but give him a chance. You gave me one." You coaxed her, taking her hand into yours.

"Alright, alright Miss Marine," She sighed again, but you could tell she was happy, "Jake Sully and I as friends, who would have thought."

Hearing her oldest daughter's name, Mo'at could feel a twinge in her heart, but she was gratified to know that you remembered her. Kiri looked upon you with gratefulness as well, the story connecting her more with a past that she had always craved to know. Lo'ak, on the other hand, felt shocked, the Jake you knew so contrasting to the strict father he had grown up with.

"I spoke to her, your mother," You looked at Kiri, "At the Tree of Souls."

Kiri widened her eyes, urging for you to continue as she listened intently. Mo'at shared the same eagerness, and having already taken the time to interpret the will of the Great Mother when the thought first arose, she knew that Grace's message would reveal the final piece she needed to help you.

"She knows that I'll defeat my father. But, she didn't tell me how, only that the Great Mother wanted me to live freely. Only then, will I be able to fulfill my purpose." Each word was a puzzle perplexing you and you looked at Mo'at, desperate to know what she thought.

Mo'at took a moment to think, her eyes closed as her voice weaved through the subtle breeze that entered through the tent. When she had found the words to say, she spoke them with conviction.

"Life is about balance, y/n. To be too much of one thing and not enough of another can lead us on a lost path. Do not mistake surviving for living."

You took her words in, absorbing what she was saying. You knew what she was trying to tell you and you chuckled appreciatively, but still you continued to question her, curious and concerned, "What does that have to do with my purpose?"

"The Great Mother has spoken her wishes for you. Do not burden yourself with finding your purpose, for it is not meant to burden you at all. There are many things in this new life, many people," She glanced over at Lo'ak for a moment before her eyes set upon you again, "that can still bring you joy even when there is uncertainty."

Lo'ak looked at you instantly, heart on his sleeve as a grin took over his face, hoping that you would meet his eyes, but you only maintained eye contact before averting your eyes, shyness washing over you as you nodded timidly.

Kiri went back and forth between her brother and you, wholly entertained. Putting a hand on yours, "I'm happy that you were able to connect with my mother again. It is good news for this day."

There was a pain behind her eyes and discerning it, you squeezed her hand, "I'm sorry about Spider."

It meant a lot for you to acknowledge that ache she was so desperately trying to hide as she replied, "Thank you. Now, let's finish wrapping your shoulder."

Mo'at handed her granddaughter the bandage and taking it, Kiri skillfully bound your wound, tying it tightly then patting your shoulder, "There. All done."

"Thank you. To all of you." You acknowledged, and letting Tuk off your lap, you stood up, "Now, I have to go talk your dad."

"I'm coming with you," Lo'ak said immediately, getting up and kissing his grandma on the cheek before following you out.

The two girls were close behind, bidding their grandma farewell with a wave as they trailed behind Lo'ak.

From a distance, you already saw Jake and Neytiri in their tent, and although you were far, you could tell they were arguing.

Turning around, you put a hand on Lo'ak's chest, "Maybe you guys should stay behind."

He looked at Kiri and Tuk behind him and reluctantly, he replied, "Okay."

You squinted your eyes at him, expecting his protests, but he remained calm. "Okay...good."

Turning on your heels, you kept going and it wasn't long before you heard their footsteps behind you again. Whipping your head around, you caught Lo'ak mid-walk and not expecting it, he almost ran into you, his hands going to your waist as he avoided crashing forward.

Dangerously close, he kept his eyes locked on you, your expression clearly frustrated, "I'm being serious, Lo'ak. I'm not going to tell you again."

You ignored how his hands felt on your waist, the feeling stirring butterflies in your stomach. Gently taking his wrists, you peeled his hands off.

In surrender, he put his hands up, backing away, "Fine, fine. We're planted, okay? On my honor."

You smiled at him, "Thank you."

When you got to the entrance, you leaned onto the side of it.

So engrossed in their argument, they didn't notice you, Jake's hands in fists as he let out, "We have to leave the Forest."

Neytiri shook her head, her voice forceful and strained, "You cannot ask this. We cannot leave our People. This is our home!"

You cleared your throat, announcing your presence, Neytiri halitng her words immediately as her eyes went to you.

Jake did the same, his expression once distressed and defeated, now illuminated with relief.

"Y/n!" He ran, hugging you, his voice cracking, "Don't ever scare me like that again."

You patted him on the back, whispering, "You old sap. Sorry for scaring you."

Your head rested on Jake's shoulder and you made eye contat with Neytiri. She couldn't hide her emotions, her hands on her head as she looked at you, her eyes pleading as she began to say, "Tell him, y/n that he cannot do this, that there is a way to defeat your demon father from here."

You fell silent, letting go of Jake, unsure of what to say. You and Jake exchanged looks, the two of you in sync.

A father protects. It's what gives him meaning.

You taught him that.

He was Toruk Makto, the leader of the Omaticaya, their protector, their peacekeeper. But, he was also Jake Sully, a father and a husband. Quaritch made him and his family walking targets among The People who never asked to be part of a feud whose end was supposed to be in the Hallelujah Mountains. Jake knew very well how unbearable it is to live with innocent blood on your hands, and he just couldn't bear for the Omaticaya to become collateral damage.

You both knew what had to be done, and there was only one way he could protect everyone, to do his duty, to make sure that no one he loved would get hurt because of him.

Neytiri, in her desperation, picked up her father's bow from where it was being displayed in the tent, "My father gave me this bow as he lay dying," Her voice cracked as she continued, "And he said protect The People. You're Toruk Makto!"

You hated to be on Jake's side this time, but he was right, "Neytiri, he had your children under his knife and now that he has Spider..."

You stopped yourself for a moment, not wanting to admit your fears as you looked away from them both, "He's going to come with everything he's got and he's not gonna stop."

You turned toward Jake and Neytiri again, taking her hand in yours, your heart heavy, "I know you don't want to leave, but you have to understand. If the People harbor us, they will die."

"This will protect The People." Jake put a hand on your shoulder and a hand on Neytiri's face, cupping it gently," Look, I got nothing. I got no plan. But I can protect this family. That I can do."

Sniffling and a wail of cries erupted from outside of the tent and through an opening, you saw the movement of a blue tail. The sound caused Neytiri's ears to twitch, instantly recognizing her child's cries as she uttered, "Tuk?"

Revealing themselves, the kids slowly, one by one, made their way in, and to your surprise, Neteyam had joined them, being the last to walk through the entrance.

"Do we really have to leave here?" Tuk asked, her face stained with tears as she held onto her sister.

Jake and Neytiri didn't know what to say, caught off guard by their children's sudden appearance. Jake was about to walk over to her, but you beat him to it, kneeling down beside her, "You remember what I told you when that man took you in the Mountains? About your dad?"

She nodded, "That he was one of the Sky People, that only he knows how to stop them."

You smiled at her, "Smart girl," You tried your best to hide the heaviness behind your eyes as you reassured her, "Your dad is just doing what he knows best," You looked up at the other Sully kids, hoping that you were giving them at least a semblance of comfort with your words, "Protecting what he loves."

She seemed to understand, pressing her lips together as she nodded. Letting go of her sister's hands, she ran to Jake and he carried her, rubbing her back. Neytiri motioned for the rest of the kids to come and they did, all of them falling in as they hugged one another.

You kept yourself at a distance, looking at them as they embraced one another, your heart breaking. And again, you were reminded what you were brought back to Pandora for—the dread, the pain, the anguish that your regiment was tasked to do. Your mere existence was already causing ruins to Jake and the people he loved the most.

You walked out of the tent, hoping they wouldn't notice you had gone. But, Jake had seen you go, and in his worry, he put Tuk down, following you.

It didn't matter how many times Jake called your name, you didn't respond, buried in your thoughts as you quickly walked through the base.

Despite how much you wanted to live freely like Grace had told you, no matter how much you felt the pull of life, the weight of death was strong, and until you could lift it, you just couldn't welcome a renewed sense of being.

Because here you were, your identity and your destiny still attached to a mission that served the vengeance of what was meant to be dead. You didn't feel like you could move on from that, not until everything was over, not until you did everything you could to protect Jake and his family.

That was the promise you made to yourself when you first awoke and you would keep it. No matter what it took.

The People, you saw, were living, thriving in their homes. Jake had ensured their livelihoods, ensured their safety, and maintained their peace. It was meant to be a comforting sight, but you were only met with sadness in your heart. The words you once told Jake all those years ago, you never realized how much he lived by it until now.

Somehow, you had made it far enough to where the scientists were staying and seeing you, Norm and Max ran over, appearing in front of you.

You finally stopped, pulled from your thoughts as you greeted them, "Oh, hey guys."

"What's wrong?" Norm asked, although he could already guess why you looked so down.

Jake had already broken the news to them earlier, offering a sympathetic hand when you replied, "Haven't you heard? We're getting out of Dodge. Per usual, my dad's done what he does best."

You sat down near the steps of their lab, resting your palms on the sides of your face as your elbows were propped onto your knees, You let out a soft chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke, "I've got a lot of overdue samples to look at."

That earned a laugh from the two of them, Max replying, "If you weren't like 9 feet tall, I'd definitely let you take a look."

Norm pulled out his tablet, scrolling through countless video logs until he found the one he was looking for, "Hey, I was looking through these the other day and look what I stumbled upon."

He handed you the tablet, and pressing the play button, you watched.

"Y/n. Geez, I've been chasing you down this whole..." You looked up to find Jake walking over with a troubled expression, his words stopping as his eyes made their way down to the tablet, the sight of himself, you, and Grace silencing him.

"Jake Sully here. This is video log..."

You were behind him, hunched over beside Grace with a syringe in your hand, "Twenty-seven. Video log twenty-seven."

"Hey, is this my video log or yours?" He retorted.

"You're the one who couldn't remember the number." You muttered, smiling to yourself.

"Anyway, video log twenty-seven. Learning to ride an ikran. We call them banshees. It's the test every young hunter has to pass. But to do that you gotta go where the banshees are."

"Oo-rah." You chimed in.

Jake turned around again, clearing his throat, and you groaned, "Sorry."

"Man, taming that thing was a bitch. But, when I finally made the bond and I was in the air...Anyway, I may not be much of a horse guy, but riding an ikran? I was born to do that."

"You lucky bastard." You muttered again, taking your eyes out of the microscope when Grace pinched you.

"Stop interrupting. You're distracting him. You know his brain can't handle too much."

Jake scowled, "You can kiss my lily white as—"

"Hey, I'm just saying, if I had my own avatar...I'd never be on the ground."

Watching that only deepened your sadness, and you handed Norm his tablet back, your wish of having your own ikran a pipe dream now that you were leaving the Forest.

Norm, still unaware of the news, looked over at Jake, nudging him, "Might have taken twenty years but, it's still not too late for y/n to have one!"

Jake deliberated it, recognizing your dejection in the way you avoided his eyes. And although in the wake of his decision, it seemed like an impulsive idea, he conceded, "You're right."

In your shock, you finally looked at Jake, taking your hand away from your jaw as your mouth hung open, "Seriously? I thought for sure you would hate the idea of me even stepping outside of camp."

"Well, you're one of the People, aren't you? And besides, "He got up, motioning for you to do the same. Attempting to lighten the mood, he shrugged, "I really didn't want to have to push you in a stroller when we leave here."

You put a hand on the top of your head, allowing your laughter to permeate through the melancholy that felt like it was taking over your body, "You're gonna end up back in that wheelchair real soon. Just you wait."

Jake retaliated affectionately, "It must be tiring being such a pain in the ass."

You waved goodbye to Norm and Max, Jake waiting for you as you caught up to him, "You must be exhausted then."

Jake pulled you in by the shoulder, guiding you forward, "Come on, kids meal, we have one more stop before I take you to Oo-rah."

You returned to the tent, your arrival prompting the Sullys to look up from their separate activities. They were all seated on the floor beside each other. Neteyam acknowledged you with a nod as he was putting a new string on his bow. Kiri was weaving something together, focusing as she looped tiny beads onto a string. Neytiri was with Tuk, the youngest Sully comfortably seated in her lap as she prepared a midday snack. And Lo’ak was only distracting himself as he sharpened his knife over and over, awaiting your return eagerly.

Neytiri arose from her seated position, looking at her husband expectantly, "Ma Jake, what is going on?"

Jake pinched your ear, earning a scowl from you, "We've got somewhere to go."

They all got up hearing Jake, the siblings tilting their heads as they exchanged looks between one another.

The six of you walked toward the edge of the camp. Lo'ak taking his place beside you. "You really want your own ikran? I thought for sure you preferred riding with me." He flirtatiously joked.

"I never said I didn't." You replied rather quickly, catching onto his flirtations, your swift response causing an instant blush to appear on his cheeks.

"I just was really looking forward to racing you on one. Plus," You paused, "I'd definitely win." You feigned a cough to slightly mask your words, a smile erupting on your face as you watched his reaction turn sour.

"You really think you'd win against me? No chance." Lo'ak scoffed cockily, crossing his arms as he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Even Tuk could beat you, bro." Neteyam interjected, overhearing the conversation, letting out a laugh as his sister stuck her tongue out at Lo'ak.

"You're mistaking me for you, bro. You must have forgotten the last time we raced, I left you in the dust." Lo'ak replied, cavalier and confident.

"You cheated that time, and you know it." Neteyam pointed at him sternly.

Lo'ak leaned into you, whispering in your ear, "Think of the slowest animal to ever exist.. that's how slow Neteyam is compared to me."

His taunts amused you, and although Neteyam didn't think his remarks were funny, you couldn't help but laugh, remembering your old pilot days with Trudy.

Lo'ak's lips curled into a smile, pride bubbling in his stomach for making you laugh. You all stopped when you reached the edge of the camp, craning your neck, your eyes gaped at the myriad of clouds covering the blue sky, slowly setting into sunset. Scattered through the air were the floating rocks of the mountains, vast and many in the distance.

With each call, the Sullys' ikrans came, landing on the rocks and taking hold with their talons, screeching loudly as a greeting.

Lo'ak patted his ikran's head affectionately, connecting his queue to his. Cautiously, you put a hand out, but your guardedness was unnecessary as his ikran felt Lo'ak's fondness of you, moving his head forward to meet your hand.

You were surprised by the gesture, smiling.

"He likes you," Lo'ak remarked.

"He's not the only one," Neteyam fake coughed, aiming to embarrass his brother, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he mounted his ikran.

Lo'ak clapped in fake enthusiasm then flipped his brother off with both hands.

Jake, who heard the commotion looked over, ready to scold his youngest son. Seeing the look in Jake's eyes, you put Lo'ak's fingers down, pushing him forward toward his ikran, "Just get on, won't you?"

He obeyed your orders, taking a seat on the saddle then offering a hand to you, "You better hold on tight. You know I like to ride fast." He glared at Neteyam, "Unlike some people we know."

"Stop trying to impress y/n with your lies." Neteyam replied, putting his visor on.

You moved Lo'ak's hand over, lifting yourself up onto his ikran. You were almost fully seated when Jake pulled your arm back down, the abruptness almost making you lose balance as your feet landed on the ground.

"What the hell—" You yelped, blinking up at Jake.

"You ride with me." He still held onto your arm, practically dragging you until you flicked his forehead hard in response.

"Ow!" He let go of you, placing his fingers where you had hit him, "Last time you flew with my son, you came back unconscious. I just don't want to take any chances." Jake explained sternly.

You squinted at him, "No, that vein sticking out of your forehead is telling me there's more to it."

Jake looked up, his fists balled as he sucked in a breath through his teeth, "Y/n—"

You put a hand up though shushing him, your expression determined as you defended Lo'ak, "Last time I flew with your son, he got me back here. Safely. So, cut Lo'ak some slack and have a little more faith."

Jake let a breath out, looking up, clearly contemplating and frustrated by your protests. Neytiri though, was having none of it, clearing her throat and prompting his attention, "Ma Jake." Neytiri lowered her eyes at her husband, "She will ride with Lo'ak. Now, let's go before the sun fully sets."

Groaning, Jake nodded, returning back to his ikran but not before he gave Lo'ak one final warning look, which Lo'ak reluctantly acknowledged with a nod.

Again, you lifted yourself onto his ikran, stabilizing yourself as you sat comfortably in front of him. He was unusually quiet with no flirtatious rally to tell you, causing you to look at him from behind.

He felt shy under your gaze but, he masked it immediately, smirking at you like he usually did, "Ready?"

"More than ever." You said, taking hold of the handles on the saddle.

Following Jake out, one by one, the sound of wings' flapping filled your ears and then you were into the sky, the wind dancing through your hair. You ascended upward, the flight to Oo-rah not too long as Lo'ak sped through the air.

For some reason, you were bothered that Lo'ak had no comment to make after you defended him, the silence between the two of you for the first ride deafening.

You looked back at him, catching his eye briefly before turning around, yelling over the wind, "I didn't have to defend you like that, you know."

Lo'ak didn't speak for a moment, leaning forward as he tried to decipher your expression. You looked at him from the side, your irritation making itself known in the glare you gave him.

When he realized how bothered you were, he felt exhilarated at having stirred some kind of reaction from you, a stark difference from your usual tendency to brush him off.

He finally replied to you, making sure his face was dangerously close to yours, "So, why'd you do it?"

He could have guessed your reasons very easily, feeling he had come to know you well enough. It was intensely you to put Jake in his place the way you did—he had seen you do it before. Not to mention, he thought the world of you, your moral compass irrefutable and your heart kind.

But, he just couldn't help but ask anyway, fishing for a specific answer as he hoped he could get you to admit your feelings.

You didn't say anything, trying to find the words to explain your reasons. It didn't help that you could feel Lo'ak's chest behind your back and his breath on your neck, the proximity making you nervous, like you were being studied under a microscope.

You cleared your throat, avoiding his eyes as you looked onward, "Because we're friends."

Lo'ak leaned backwards then accelerated without warning, dipping underneath one of the floating rocks, the movement forcing your grip on the left handle loose. Immediately, Lo'ak let go of one of the handles, cradling you diligently, his hold on you firm as gravity took over, your head now abruptly resting in the crevice between his neck and shoulder. Instinctively, you placed your hands on his arms, clasping onto him to regain your stability.

He beamed at you coyly, smug as he smoothly said, "Just friends?"

You knew you were bright red, the cold of the wind barely able to cool the heat on your face as you lightly touched your cheeks. You were completely flustered, but that didn't change that you were still irritated with him, "If this is your way of saying thank you, you're doing a shit job."

Oo-rah was just up ahead, Jake already landing on the cave's edge near the clearing of the ikran's lair, everyone else following behind him in a line formation.

"And how would you like me to show my gratitude? I can think of a lot of ways." Lo'ak emphasized, moving his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

You both hopped off his ikran and you turned to Lo'ak who was eager to hear your response.

You shoved his face away from yours, responding sarcastically, "Oh fuck off."

"No, you'd miss me." He placed his hand where yours had been, unable to contain the huge grin he had.

You walked over to Jake, and he threw something at you, "Tie the mouth with this first. You’ll know which one is yours because—“

“I know, I know. It’ll try to kill me.” You interrupted, looking down at what you caught.

It was a piece of twine with a ball of rope at the end of it. You practiced spinning it around before walking the cliff's edge, the hoard of ikrans seemingly greeting you with their cries and screeches.

As you continued to step forward, most of the ikrans avoided your eyes, not caring too much about your presence. Then, above, the loud flapping of wings caught your attention, your eyes following the descent of a teal and pink colored ikran. She hissed at you loudly, meeting your eyes with viciousness, and you met hers back with an equal viciousness of your own. You waited for the opportune moment to strike and when you felt that in your gut, you acted with utmost swiftness. 

You could hear the Sullys cheering for you from behind as you tied her mouth, stunning her momentarily. You quickly hopped on her back, wrapping your arm around her neck, gripping for your life as she thrashed against it. Inching closer and closer to the cliff, your heart was pumping with so much adrenaline as you attempted to grab her queue, and in the midst of that, she threw both of you off the cliff.

You could barely hear everyone yell your name in fear and worry as you fell, spinning as gravity pulled you downward ruthlessly. The air become another adversary, threatening to plummet you to your doom, but you only tightened your grip on her queue while reaching behind for your own, your eyes focusing despite how quickly you were falling. 

When you had reached that precipice, Lo’ak wasted no time following after you, jumping off the cliff as he called his ikran. He readied himself to catch you, but there was no need as he watched you finally make the bond. You straightened yourself on your ikran’s back, catching your breath as you felt her own, completely in tune as you commanded her to fly straight.

The Sullys were not far behind you, taking to the air with impossible quickness the moment you fell off the cliff.

You spun around to meet them, their whoops and cheers uplifting you. You bowed your head, taking the praise, and Jake neared you, worry still etched on his face, but his pride taking over as he grinned at you from ear to ear, "I told you not to scare me like that."

"I definitely beat your record." You flipped your hair with pride, laughing as he scowled.

"Like hell you did." Jake flew slightly forward, purposefully making you dodge his ikran's wings, the movement sending you backward slightly.

You gasped in offense, moving forward to do the same thing to him, but more aggressively as he dove downward to avoid you.

You tilted your head backward, laughing loudly at his stunned reaction. Neytiri joined in on the laughter as well, putting a hand to her mouth, so happy to see the two of you flying together at last. It was a sight she never thought that she would see, and she bubbled with joy seeing her husband so happy to be with you—his best friend.

"Alright, old man," You began, and looking to the sides, you called out, "Neteyam, Lo'ak, you, and me, we're racing. Now, I know you're used to going below twenty miles an hour, but try to keep up okay?"

Scoffing, Jake shrugged, "You must have forgotten, y/n, but I was born to do this."

"Right, right. And that was when again? Before the time of the First Songs?" You feigned a pout at him, fake doe eyes as you retorted sarcastically.

Kiri, who was merely enjoying the scenery, snickered at your joke, recognizing your humor as she praised you, "That was funny!"

"Oh, you guys are sooo losing." Lo'ak yelled out confidently.

"Rules? One lap back to the base and the first one back here wins?" Neteyam suggested.

Exchanging looks with one another, you all nodded, agreeing the terms.

"Kiri count us down!" Lo'ak insisted, and she groaned at the request but ultimately agreed.

The four of you lined up beside one another, you sandwiched between Neteyam, who was on your right, and Lo'ak on your left.

"What are you going to give me when I win?" Lo'ak asked you. indelicate in his tone.

"A kiss on the cheek." You teased, before facing forward.

"Are you being serio—" Lo'ak let out, but the sound of Kiri's loud "Go!" interrupted him.

Hearing her first syllable, you darted off, taking the lead, Neteyam and Jake close beside you, while Lo'ak slightly trailed behind, your response delaying him.

The sun was setting, the sky darkening slightly as warm hues of orange, yellow, and red took over. You dodged the floating rocks skillfully weaving your way through, your body leaning forward as you accelerated further and further.

The sight of the base was ahead, and Neteyam still matching your speed glanced over at you. You took the opportunity to dive under him when he did, your ikran vertical for a moment then flattening out as you sped forward.

You were the first to make it to the edge of the base, swiftly turning around and unexpectedly, everyone else had also caught up with you.

Jake, determined to win, flew above then downward in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you suddenly upside down.

With a new perspective, you caught sight of a shortcut, steering yourself there. Lo'ak, having known about that spot from previous races followed after you, the two of you zigzagging between each other.

The two of you were pulling ahead, with Neteyam and Jake mere inches from you both. Seeing Neytiri and Kiri, with every ounce of strength, you gained momentum with ferocity, advancing toward them. But, Lo'ak was right next to you, and smirking, he matched your speed, inching and inching forward, the last few seconds of the race suspenseful as the two of you shot forward past Neytiri and Kiri.

Reaching past the finish line, you turned around to see Neteyam and Jake crossing it. You saw Jake biting the bottom of his lip in disappointment at his defeat, granting you a satisfied grin.

"Who won? Definitely me, right?" Lo'ak yelled at his sister.

But, she had no clue, looking at her mother, who also was at a loss for words.

"No, no you're being delusional. I passed them first." You disagreed, your eyes looking for confirmation in Kiri's.

"Um, guys. I think it was a tie." Kiri replied, putting her hand at the back of her neck.

"It was y/n!" Tuk cried out from where she was seated with her mother.

"See!" You emphasized, turning to Lo'ak.

"Tuk is eight! She can barely tell the difference between a direhorse and a hexapede!" Lo'ak reasoned.

"Okay, then we're having a rematch. From here to the top of that mountain over there, toward the horizon." You pointed and his eyes followed your finger.

"I'm getting that kiss on the cheek." Lo'ak stated, and without another word, you two were off, any consideration of Jake's disapproval gone with the wind.

Neytiri caught onto Jake's worrying concern, easing it as she urged, "It is their last day in The Forest, Ma Jake. Let them enjoy it. Let y/n enjoy it, hmm? They'll come home soon enough for dinner. Let us go back."

Although he hated the idea of the two of you alone without his protection, the thought almost sending him into oblivion, he listened to Neytiri.

Flying had always been your favorite part about being a Marine, and when you had come to Pandora, you had always wanted to fly as you were now—no constrictions, no orders to obey, no mission to complete.

And after twenty years or so, you finally got to.

Through the endless Hallelujah Mountains, in and out of the entanglement of vines, and past the wispiness of the clouds, you slashed at the currents with elegant speed, surging freely in the flux. Once you came to a stopping point, landing on one of the nearby cliffs, Lo'ak's ikran hit the ground first, signaling his victory.

Yet you were too engrossed by the nature around you to realize that fact as you dismounted your ikran, eyes widened as you took it all in. The grass atop the cliff waved at you as the wind cascaded through it, and you looked out into the seemingly endless landscape, breathing in the freshness of the air and doing your best to commit the moment into your memory.

"Ahem." Lo'ak had his hands behind his back, his gaze expectant as he leaned forward, turning his cheek to you, "I think you owe me something."

“Fine, fine.” You gave in, stepping closer to him.

Leaning forward, you hovered over his cheek, about to press your lips to it, but as you did so, the dots on Lo'ak's skin began to glow, signaling the dawn of the night. Beyond, the darkening of the sky began to awaken the bioluminescene of the forest, the sun disappearing behind you and replacing it was the bright white moon.

You gasped in awed wonder, pulling away as you shifted your attention to the change of your scenery. You never got tired of the way The Forest would illuminate like this, the glow of it so vividly shimmering against the black of nightfall.

And while your eyes were busy, Lo'ak's were too, focusing on your figure as you walked away from him.

"You—"

"Shhh" You put your finger up, "I'm looking at all of this."

He grabbed onto your tail playfully, "And I'm—"

You whipped your body around to face him, defensive as you put your hands out, lunging to grab his tail in retaliation. He caught your hand as you leaped, pulling you forward.

He continued what he was saying, "And I'm looking at you."

Lo'ak paused and you could no longer distinguish the mischievous glint in his eyes as they bore into you, his affection dripping like honey.

Slowly, he continued to pull you forward, gently closing the gap between you. You did nothing to brush him off, too entranced as you took those small steps.

His hand still in yours, he tilted his head slightly, his voice soft, but firm.

"I See You."

You blinked up at him, a fog taking over your brain, your mouth open, but nothing coming out as you stood, stunned.

There was silence between the two of you, everything blurring as your vision fixated on one another. The tranquil of The Forest lent comforting warmth that blanketed the two of you, contrasting the rapid pumping of both of your hearts.

And perhaps it was because you were wrapped up in that moment, so taken by his words that you felt emboldened. Hooking your finger onto his necklace, you pulled him toward you, connecting your lips.

Lo'ak only widened his eyes in surprise for a second before he melted into you, trailing his hand up your arm as he cupped your cheek and the other took its place on your back, the gap between you closing as he deepened the kiss with tender adoration.

You allowed yourself to be in this moment with Lo'ak cherishing the suspension of reality, your mind calm, no ruminating about the purpose the Great Mother has for you, no concern of your father's revenge poisoning your thoughts, no distress found from losing your brother.

Enthralled in that freedom and peace, you felt as if you were in a dream, a good one that you would keep close to your heart.

You ghosted your fingers around his collarbone to grab onto the back of his neck, moving in rhythm with him and meeting him with the same passion before you quickly pulled away, the taste of his lips lingering on yours as you caught your breath.

Lo'ak, still in an enamored daze, lightly grazed your lips with his two fingers, a huge smile on his face, "I'm gonna expect this every time I win."

Your mind catching up with the desires of your heart, you repositioned your hands onto his shoulders, straightening your elbows to put distance between you and him.

"This was a one time thing." You clarified as you mentally scolded yourself for being so impulsive.

Furrowing his eyebrows at you, he met you with a confused expression, slight hurt lacing it, "Why?"

You patted his shoulders, sheepishly smiling, "We're friends."

"For now." Lo'ak said with a quickness.

"Lo'ak." You gave him a stern look, but you were still clearly flustered.

Lo'ak chuckled, "You kissed me!"

You had no rational comeback, spitting out whatever came to your head as you came to your own defense, stuttering, "Well, that was your fault! You were staring at me the way that you always stare at me but then you—"

"Then I what?" Lo'ak was wholly amused. He knew you liked him back, and he beamed with internal satisfaction.

Frustrated, you scratched the back of your neck, "You can't just say what you said, Lo'ak. It means something, it means everything!"

"Well, I meant it." Lo'ak shrugged casually, crossing his arms, "And I'm not taking it back."

You felt childish at this point, hesitating in pure disbelief as you let out a breath.

Uncrossing his arms and reading your expression, Lo'ak aimed to assure you, "If you want it to be a one time thing, then it's a one time thing. We're friends, of course we're friends."

You hardly believed him though, squinting at him as you tried to discern his intentions, expecting a mischievous comment.

And you were right in thinking that, Lo'ak looking up to the sky as he let his voice trail into the wind, "Even though you had nooo problem getting real close to me when we were in the air," He made eye contact with you again, "We're friends."

“We both know you did that on purpose," You warned, putting a finger up at him pointedly, "And also, you fly your ikran like you're drunk.” You scrunched your nose, playfully insulting him.

He brushed a stray hair away from your face, “I never did thank you, you know for defending me.”

You pinched his ear, causing him to wince, “Took you long enough.”

He rubbed his ear to ease the pain, “Look, I’m not the perfect soldier or the perfect son, so I’m not used to it. That’s why I didn’t know what to say at first.” Vulnerability coated his words as his hand went to the back of his neck.

“Well, you're perfect to me.” You had uttered it so nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders even, as if you had said it countless times before.

You watched his expression soften at your words, his gaze on you already shrouded with affection now decorated in adoration, his heart beating so fast he swore it was going to pop out of his chest.

Whirling around, he put his hands at his temples then extended his arms out, palms outstretched to the sky, the tips of his fingers in your view, "You say these things, and you're just begging to be kissed. I swear."

"Don't make me punch you again." You warned, balling your fists up.

"Stand down there, beautiful. I'm only joking." Lo'ak put a hand up, easing your fists down.

You sighed, "What I'm trying to say is that even though your dad is my best friend, I don't agree with everything he does. And that includes how he treats you."

Lo'ak was about to make another flirtatious joke, but you continued, "And your siblings."

He put his hands at his hips, looking down at the ground, "Had to bring them into it too, huh?" He muttered, "So romantic."

"I knew Jake when he was like you. Stubborn. Troublesome—"

"Fun?" Lo'ak added.

You chuckled, nodding, "I'm surprised he's so strict now."

"Trust me, the way he acts when you're around is more surprising. He hasn't joked like that since Neteyam, Kiri, and I were kids. But that was before the Sky People came back and started building that city."

And suddenly, the worries you had came flooding back, the harsh reality sinking its teeth into the dream that you so desperately wanted to stay in.

Yet, that was the thing about dreams.

Sooner or later, you have to wake up.

The People.

The Forest.

They would become relics to you as you once became a relic to it.

-

Everything was set by the next day, and just as quickly as you had settled into camp, you were leaving once again for a brand new horizon.

The People had gathered onto the ground to attend the ceremony of the new Olo’eyktan, but what was meant to be a joyous celebration was tainted by overwhelming loss and sadness.

Jake knew his successor, Tarsem, was wise beyond his years, that he would make a strong Olo'eyktan.

But as you looked upon Jake's face, his expression strong and stoic, you could still see the pain in his eyes.

The memories you had in your new body didn't remember the Final Battle, the day that you first saw Jake in the air on Toruk. You didn't remember it, but you knew you felt proud. It was who he was always meant to be.

The leader must die, so the leader can be born.

Toruk Makto will disappear.

The People will be safe.

With this new beginning came tearful goodbyes as the Omaticaya bid you all farewell, and you had maintained your strength until you saw Norm and Max. You couldn’t hold your tears in as you gave them both one final hug. 

Mo'at gave her final embraces before your departure, and when she finally got to you, she put her hands on your shoulders, “My child, whatever you may experience beyond this forest, the Great Mother has ordained you as one of The People. Do not forget that.” 

You gave her one last hug, “I won’t. I promise.”

You were at the edge of a cliff, vast, blue, open sea ahead of you, ikrans ready to fly. But you were hardly focused on what was ahead as you looked back at The Forest, etching and ingraining every detail of it in your mind.

Into the air, suddenly the feeling of leaving felt like true resignation, the momentary banter between you and Jake forgotten as you looked out into the open sea, seemingly endless, full of possibilities. But what was meant to be a fresh start was only cloaked with the sweeping melancholy that you and the Sullys felt inside as The Forest, the colossal trees, the lush landscape, and the presence of the aviary creatures amidst the foliage became a green mirage, smaller and smaller as you ventured further out until the sight of it could no longer be seen.

One life ends.

Another begins.

-

Author's Note

to my lovers clan,

i'm so so sorry for taking so long to give you guys an update. life has been insane these past two years and i finally was able to finish up this chapter and move forward with the series.

in truth, my creativity was so shot and i couldn't bring myself to write work that i wasn't proud of. you guys deserve the absolute best!

for everyone who has waited for my series, i really really love you and appreciate you. to know that there are people out there that have taken the time to read my work, it is a blessing.

if you liked the chapter, let me know what you think in the comments! i always love reading your thoughts!

please always take care of yourselves!

love,

nana <3

~~side note here: going to break down some of my choices down for this chapter, so if you’re interested, read on!

i really leaned into the themes of friendship and family in this chapter and i focused on the forest and flashbacks because this will be the last time we'll see them in this setting.

i fell in love with the first movie so long ago, that when i rewatched the extended version recently, i realized that i forgot that neytiri had a sister!

i thought that the flashback i added with her really enriched the storyline and the connection between Grace, Jake, and the reader, while adding more volume to HOW two worlds could collide—how a boss could become a friend.

Spider getting captured right after they connected too was so necessary because I really wanted him to feel so conflicted — he had just connected with his sister, felt a bond with her, and suddenly he realizes that he can't fully hate his father. It mirrors how the reader also feels about Quaritch, but her history with him, her sense of duty and moral compass guide her more toward the Sullys, while Spider struggles with it a little more.

And then these moments with Jake and y/n too! Like, they are BEST friends. But to him, you've always been the baby, so him getting all protective now that he's a dad was a comedic choice that I couldn't resist. Cause it's like... Jake that's your whole ass son and you're cockblocking???? And then of course, Neytiri, even though she doesn't outwardly show it (like her mother Mo'at our grand shipper of the Lo'ak reader ride), she doesn't mind that Lo'ak is clearly interested in you

THENNNN,

we have our stars of the show, the slow burn romance we're all dying for— Lo'ak and reader.

LIKE SHE KISSED HIM? (I mean, shit me too honestly, but damn, who would have thought?)

I was originally gonna have him kiss her first, but it felt so much more of a natural move for her to just do it, the moment so right for her and then the INSTANT regret of it on her end, and Lo'ak teasing her after—it encompasses how easy their relationship is and how willing Lo'ak is to just take things at her pace, even though he's ready to dive right in.

~

also, p.s. i still have my taglists and will update it, but with how the character limit is, i wasn't able to put everybody down on this post.

taglist:

@mae-is-crazy @mrs-sullys-blog @23victoria @neteyamforlife  @a-queen-blr @neteyamslovr @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @pretty-npeach @tonni30  @itsemy01 @jimfiqs

[epiphainie]

"tommy doesn't think he's inherently unlovable; tommy just refuses to acknowledge what's in front of him to protect himself" i know you said this in a joke but he's trying to protect himself because of his insecurities that he's unloved/unworthy, isn't it? i don't see how these are two opposing statements

*cracks knuckles*

gonna use this ask as an opportunity to write my tenth tommy meta this week. i feel like i'm saying the same thing with different words at this point but who am i to refuse the one nameless person in my inbox.

maybe this is like trying to call between two shades of the same color but there's a difference to me, personally. i don't think this is the only right interpretation but it's the way all the pieces of tommy fit together in my head to make up something interesting. i don't think the show thinks 1% of this nuance (i'm simply a fic writer who's obsessed with character voice) nor do i expect for the storyline to unravel in a way that fits this. this is just what's logical and interesting to me.

"trying to protect himself because he's insecure" i think we got that part in common! i just don't think that every insecurity boils down to a sense of self-consciousness, lack of worth, not seeing yourself as loveable etc. and to me tommy's someone whose insecurities are fear around letting people in, opening up, and putting himself in a situation where it/he could fail because he's spent so much of his life staying in that safe cocoon. i think tommy's scared of what lies beyond his comfort zone which results in this lack of belief that his relationships could even work in longevity and him latching onto anything he could as confirmation bias for that. now i only have tommy's vague backstory to go with here (other than his actions) so i will start there.

what we know about tommy prior to the begins episodes is that he has a father whom he compares to gerrard. now this is me reading into it too much obviously, he could have just meant they're both bigots, but this tells me that more than neglegtful, growing up he had a father who was oppressive. who was on tommy's case too closely and too threateningly and i think that came with huge expectations put on tommy, especially with him being gay and closeted. tommy imo started performing to meet these obscure standards (of being a man, of being a son, of being a soldier etc.) from such a young age which continued into his time in the military and the 118 and, to a degree, the present.

tommy's just incredibly good at the smoke and mirrors of being the cool friend, the nonchalant dude, the vice president of gerrard's boys club, the easygoing boyfriend, the ex who's down to fuck etc. i know people call this his people-pleasing for some cases but there's nothing pleasing about tommy, tommy's a bitch, he puts a little distance in between regardless of how friendly he is, but this doesn't make the act any less of a mask. a mask he's trying to sell as authentic, especially to himself. i think what people don't consider much here is just how easy it is to buy into your own performance of whatever personality you're putting on even when you're aware you're doing it. why poke the bear when it's safe and cozy where you keep yourself to yourself and not risk any disappointment or failure? we know he does this in his friendships, first with chimney (the puppy he simply can't take the responsibility of) and later chimney, hen, and bobby who are alllowed in close enough to enjoy a pint with but not enough to know about abby (and much later, with eddie but it doesn't fit anywhere here. for more thoughts on eddietommy, here).

now we know that tommy's not entirely living a lie at this point. tommy's out and tommy's made some progress on himself. that comfort zone at one point became so unbearable that he had to burst it, regardless of how hurtful and scary it was. i still maintain that tommy's a man who to a degree has made peace with himself. he recognizes himself as a person with wants that are not shameful and past deeds that are not incriminating. this is partly why i don't think tommy's issue is seeing himself as unworthy of love, a relationship, a future etc. and we see tommy move motivated by this changing belief. when we saw him back on our screens again, it's still hard for him to admit (love how much he squirms and tenses up) to vulnerable stuff but he wants to tell buck that he's always wanted friends like the 118 regardless. he goes along with trying again during the coffee scene despite how quickly he took himself out of the situation after their first date. tommy to me is someone who's healed enough to know he can want and he would be wanted back but then...

it gets too much, it gets too close. i won't get too much into my thoughts about the breakup because i've talked about it for months but i maintain that tommy's acting out of a deeply-etched defense mechanism here than an actual belief that buck can do better, buck deserves someone who's not as fucked up as tommy, tommy who's not worthy of buck's love etc etc. however way you put that sentiment. at hearing how much buck wants, how serious he wants to take this relationship, tommy immediately lays down what he's been cooking in his head as a defense against this moment for months, probably without knowing. the reveal about eddie supports this point imo. i can write another meta about what jealousy is for tommy but here more than anything buck and eddie's relationship serves as confirmation of what he knew all along: this relationship was always going to end. he won't be buck's last and that will break his heart. done, the end, this is the story tommy bought into before it even begun. this is the story once put out there ensures that tommy's left alone, in this familiar place where he doesn't have to put too many chips in, where he doesn't have to reveal too much of himself, where he doesn't have to risk his feelings. buck could say no as many times as he wants; it doesn't matter, this is tommy's narrative.

the next time we see him, he's bought into the performance of being okay with this. honestly, most of what powers my tommy meta is that i truly think he's stubborn as hell. regardless of how keen he is, how aware he's doing this, he goes along with buck's flirting. i think i diverge with many people here because nothing imo, NOTHING, about what tommy's doing here is an act of vulnerability. it's the mask, guys, it's the mask! he gives in as much as buck's willing to give back, they both short change each other without talking about what they really want and what the breakup even meant.

but of course they have a great night, and tommy's feeling more hopeful in the morning. (i know i said we haven't seen him regretting the breakup at all but maybe i was being too harsh on him because i can see the breakfast as a gesture of "making up for it" in the classic tommy way of not actually yet acknowledging that he made a bad decision all those months ago but repenting anyway) this is the tommy who showed up at buck's loft to be vulnerable with him, take inititave, clear the air. but ofc despite all that healing, this again doesn't come easily to him, and this time he's more invested in this, there are bigger risks being known in this way (with his insecurities and jealousy and regret (maybe lol)) to his ex compared to sharing one little vulnerable thing with a virtual stranger. and he botches up the entire thing by trying to deliver it with the unbothered, cool guy mask. a little hand-wavy deflection, a little downplaying of what he actually feels. then buck's in his face and it becomes downplaying of what buck says he's feeling, the survival instinct of burrowing into that narrative that makes him feel safe and in the right again. the narrative that AGAIN ensures he's left alone and he's not poked at anymore where he tried to attempt an opening.

when i say tommy's half lies in his head, this is what i mean. not that his mind is telling him he's unloved when he actually is. i mean that he literally has this idea of himself, this idea of buck, this idea of their relationship that he sticks to because it's easier to understand and it's safer for him. people always talk about buck's passivity but tommy's the same, if not worse, because he's treading so carefully he can't allow himself to take an actual chance with buck. it's such a mirror of tommy going along with gerrard's boy club in my head, such a mirror of tommy not risking to emotionally invest in a relationship with chimney, tommy not being able to put himself in a position where he could be family with the 118. buck's familiar in many ways (i don't think either of them were poking the bear during those six months), i actually think a big deal with buck's relationships is that he CANNOT acknowledge any conflict or conflicting emotions but buck's way of dealing with it is to pour out as much as he can even when it's poorly thought out (like jumping to moving in together to cling to their relationship after the abby reveal) or ignore it completely till it comes out (arguably his hurt feelings over the breakup finally coming out in the kitchen fight scene.)

tommy's is to find a counterargument in his own head, to take the strategic exit, to slide it to a side neatly, decisively, cold turkey. he tries, like i said the let's try thing is him attempting to put his heart on a plate regardless of how badly he does it, but he simply cannot stay in that heartbreak for thirty seconds because of the horrifying ordeal of being known. partly to buck, partly to himself. which of course means tommy never actually lives. i think there's something so delicious about this especially for a character like tommy who on the surface has SO MUCH LIFE. he has flying into hurricanes, he has taking friends to vegas, he has million hobbies and one, sex to have with his boyfriend, basketball games to take him to, try desserts around LA and whatnot. but how much of that's living without getting a little real? how much of that's to balance out all the important things compermantalized away?

anyway do i think all this i said mutually exclusive with tommy thinking he's unlovable? not really. i think a base level insecurity in your worthiness is only normal when you put so much between you and the rest of the world but it changes the way i personally see how tommy sounds in his own head and how tommy perceives things. i actually think there's a level of self-assuredness in his stubbornness, in his way of buying into his own narratives and the image he's putting out. i also think he's partially aware he's doing this. so for example i cannot imagine tommy being upset about eddie cutting him off in a self-victimizing manner because he's aware of his own part in it, the intentionality when he left buck the way he did. the same way i cannot imagine him taking buck's words of "i dont have to have feelings for everyone i sleep with" at face value without being half-aware that buck's reacting to what he's said and doesn't mean it. i can't see tommy, who for all intents and purposes was the one who pushed buck away, genuinely taking it as buck telling the truth. tommy in my head either takes it as confirmation for what he knew* all along (*lied to himself about because it fits his narrative and that's a comfortable form of torture, also leaves him kind of blameless for breaking up with buck in the first place) OR if he's genuinely less resistant to the bitch in his ear now, as "lowkey done with my bullshit, let's have some instrospection about what my role here was and how it came to this point that evan's first instinct is to push me away by refusing his feelings"

i don't think he's at that stage yet so i think number one. explains why he shuts down and leaves again. tried, didn't work, i was right to think it wouldn't work. exit, pursued by tommy kinard.

okay last bit, i couldn't find a place to fit this because it's more buck meta BUT what i also love about this interpretation of tommy is the contrast with buck. overcompensating for an inherent lack of self-worth is so buck. being unlovable and hard to love is so buck. that's buck with his neglegtful parents and his abandonment issues and his coma dream where he's only valuable to the story as long as he's useful to the others. that's buck's story we've been watching for eight years. i see tommy as something else, a creature who made home in the safety of not trying that he became a self fulfilling prophecy. what if a boy had to survive situations he couldn't survive as himself and in hiding became a coward? what if that boy who became a man wants to love and care and feels the chance right in his reach, but is too scared to love back in all the ways that unveil more of him than he can bear? anyway i love tommy

[huskymaine]

Oof make that four, because I am sure Tazuna's story and Inari's behavior reminded Kakashi of his hangups about Sakumo. Let's see...

A heroic dad from the past whom the son refused to speak about

In the past the dad and the son were so close and the son highly looked up to his father

But then a big incident changed their hopeful little world

The heroic dad was vilified for standing on his principle

Thus the son watched his strong and invincible dad die in front of him, forever unable to protect the boy anymore

the shadow of the heroic yet tragic dad haunts the son

and that instilled deep fear and helplessness inside their little heart

I REALLY wonder what Kakashi was thinking when looking at Inari. Did he recall his past self? The massive admiration and adoration turned into fear. Not only fear for himself, but also fear for anyone in front of his eyes turned into the tragic father. He knew Inari was not just being whiny. He knew that in a twisted way, Inari means well. Inari was afraid for Naruto & the gang, afraid that by facing Gato, they would die tragically like his dad. He knew the anger and frustration because looking at them why aren't they afraid? Why do they act so recklessly while I deeply feel scared? Me, the son of a great hero.

They must be just so stupid. They just don't understand.

I think that's why Kakashi looked out to sit by the side of curling Inari. To calm the boy's heart, persuade him to let go of his fear, to accept the help of a new hero.

Before it was too late.

Bonus : Sure, Kakashi, sure...

the amount of trauma we watched Kakashi go through in the Wave arc with no idea about any of it until years later is astounding

Naruto and Sasuke unintentionally quoting Obito

Haku diving in front of his Raikiri just like Rin

sensing the Kyuubi's chakra for the first time since the night his sensei died

he's had this genin squad for five minutes and already knows they're going to be the death of him

[mageknife]

the point of me doing all of that timeline nonsense is to talk about the letter from alexius to halward shortly after alexius takes dorian in. there are two primary takeaways i have from this and they both make me crazy. first:

He's rather despondent over the life's path you've charted for him—if I may speak frankly—and thus, I think a part of him sabotages all efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow, either to spite you or to punish himself.

this sentence is. it’s a lot. in knowing dorian for such a short time, alexius understands him far better than his parents ever have. (“I know my son.” What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble.) dorian acts out because he’s miserable, he’s angry that he’ll never be what his parents want, angry at both them (for setting such unachievable expectations) and himself (for never being enough, for his inherent inability to be enough). alexius can see this so clearly. alexius genuinely cares for him. whether his parents at all care for the man he’s become or just for the man they wanted him to be is debatable.

and secondly, we have this sentence:

The boy had enough cheek, even in his inebriated state, to invite me to join him.

alexius tells halward that dorian propositioned him for sex. dorian is at this point, what, 17 or 18? this is likely the first evidence halward has that dorian likes men. alexius basically outs him. subtly, but it’s there. halward knew for a long time, or at least had a suspicion. but it was in private. only admitted in alexius’s correspondence.

in 9:37, when dorian is 26, he’s caught in bed with a lord’s son and essentially taken captive by his parents. he runs away a few months later, never to return.

below are two quotes from dorian during last resort of good men:

But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to change me!

He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me... acceptable. I found out. I left.

“the first thing you did.” this implies that halward only truly confronts dorian about his homosexuality and moves to act after the incident with lord abrexis’s son.

as dorian says in his sex scene:

Where I come from, anything between two men… it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.

maybe it would have been fine behind closed doors, but it’s been made extremely public. word has spread quickly among halward’s enemies. just look at this letter:

Halward: I only wanted what was best for you!

Dorian: You wanted the best for you! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!

when dorian says this, he’s exactly right. halward might not understand dorian, but dorian understands him. halward knew dorian slept with men for 8, 9 years before this, thanks to alexius’s letter detailing how they met. it hasn’t been an issue before. but it’s only now that it could pose a threat to halward’s reputation that halward decides it has to change. he goes back on his word, his teachings against blood magic, to protect himself, his legacy, his image. it’s disgusting. appalling.

finally, i want to address this banter between cole and dorian:

Dorian: You think that if they love you, they should understand. They shouldn't want to hurt you.

Dorian: So you feel betrayed. You say things you can't ever take back.

Cole: “Get out. You are no son of mine.”

Dorian: Yes, like that.

Cole: He wishes he hadn't meant it.

world of thedas says dorian “escaped,” “fled.” even dorian says he “found out [and] left.” but this banter, given the above context, is elucidating. dorian didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night. he confronted halward. he stood his ground. he refused to let halward change him. he had hope, even if just a sliver of it, that halward would understand, would still love him, even if he wasn’t everything his father wanted.

and for staying true to who he was, he was given rejection. wholehearted rejection. halward said that dorian was not his son, and he meant it. if dorian couldn’t behave in a way that would uphold house pavus’s perfect legacy, if he couldn’t “put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away,” then he couldn’t be a pavus.

dorian left having tried everything. having desperately pleaded with his father to still love him for who he was. but halward never truly loved dorian. he only loved the man he hoped dorian would become, the man he tried to force him to become by throwing money and disciplinary action and strict schools at the problem because he never truly cared about what dorian wanted, the man he was entirely willing to abandon his abandon his principles to use blood magic to change dorian into.

dorian was not halward’s son, because he fought against the life he was forced into since birth. dorian was not halward’s son, because he dared to put dorian before pavus.

[missanthropicprinciple]

I am....fascinated...by this exchange in This Side of Paradise...

Kirk, armed with a large metal bar, watches Spock materialize in the transporter room. Jim lashes out to release Spock from mind-altering spores.

Kirk: "Alright, you mutinous, disloyal, computerized, half-breed, we'll see about you deserting my ship."

Kirk knows Spock is probably the most loyal officer on the ship, knows Spock has emotions he just doesn’t express them in the same way everyone else does, and using the term half-breed is something a bigoted jerk might think or say.

Spock: "The term half-breed is somewhat applicable, but computerized is inaccurate. A machine can be computerized, not a man."

Kirk: "What makes you think you're a man? You're an overgrown jackrabbit, an elf with a hyperactive thyroid."

Kirk is clearly resorting to childish jibes because he can’t think of anything to really criticize him for.

Spock, chuckling: "Jim, I don't understand."

Spock is laughing at this point because he knows this is not how Kirk normally acts, so he figures it's a joke or a game.

Kirk: "Of course you don't understand. You don't have the brains to understand. All you have is printed circuits."

Spock is arguably the smartest person Jim knows and is not simply like a computer.

Spock: "Captain, if you'll excuse me."

Kirk: "What can you expect from a simpering, devil-eared freak whose father was a computer and his mother an encyclopedia?"

Kirk is almost talking nonsense, saying whatever pops into his head. The choice of the word simpering is interesting because Spock ingratiates himself to Kirk somewhat but not in a coy way, and Jim knows he’s not a suck-up. Jim doesn’t act like Spock is a freak at all and defends him. He also doesn’t even say things about his ears much or in the same way Bones does.

Spock: "My mother was a teacher. My father an ambassador."

Spock is still calm as he would be generally when insulted but the hint of humor in his voice is fading.

Kirk: "Your father was a computer, like his son. An ambassador from a planet of traitors. A Vulcan never lived who had an ounce of integrity."

Jim is using the word integrity because Spock has great integrity both personally and because of his Vulcan upbringing. This is starting to touch a nerve.

Spock: "Captain, please don't."

Spock is now asking Jim on an emotional level not to hurt him. He is only offended where there is feeling and of course he has deep feelings for Kirk, even if you interpret it as friendship.

Kirk: "You're a traitor from a race of traitors. Disloyal to the core, rotten like the rest of your subhuman race, and you've got the gall to make love to that girl."

It's really interesting that Jim is using the term "make love". From what I remember he doesn't use that phrase to refer to romance or sexual activity, usually referencing sex more obliquely. I could psychoanalyze this that maybe Jim wants to be the one either making love to the woman, being made love to in general, or wants Spock to make love to him. And again, Spock is extremely loyal and not just to Jim. Also, Jim doesn’t consider Vulcans to be sub human, shows them respect, and knows who T’Pau is.

Spock: "That's enough."

Kirk: "Does she know what she's getting, Spock? A carcass full of memory banks who should be squatting in a mushroom, instead of passing himself off as a man? You belong in a circus, Spock, not a starship. Right next to the dog-faced boy."

"Passing himself off as a man" is a particularly painful remark, but again Kirk often defends him against bigotry, talks about how important Spock's human side is, and repeatedly makes testimonials about how much he values Spock. And of course Jim must know Spock is objectively handsome. "Does she know what she's getting?" is interesting too. It could imply that Jim is asking "Does she know what an incredible man she's getting? Will she value you like I do?" but then he turns it into an insult.

Spock bends the metal bar with one blow and bashes Kirk around the transporter room for a bit before Spock suddenly realizes the spores are gone, broken like a fever.

Kirk: "Had enough? I didn't realize what it took to get under that thick hide of yours. Anyhow, I don't know what you're so mad about. It isn't every first officer who gets to belt his Captain several times."

It seems like Jim is saying it took a lot of effort for him not just to figure out what would push Spock over the edge but what to even say to insult him in the first place.

Spock: "You did that to me deliberately."

Spock, to the best of my knowledge, never says someone does something to him. He is also saying that he understands it was a calculated attack and not one stemming from impulsive emotional anger, therefore revealing Jim's true feelings.

Kirk: "Believe me, Mister Spock, it was painful in more ways than one."

Obviously this is played as a joke because Kirk is a pretty battered, but I would like to think it's because Jim truly regrets saying those words. It's written as dual meaning for comic effect but I like to read emotions into it when I can.

Spock: "The spores. They're gone. I don't belong anymore."

This is so sad. Even though the spores are gone he still reveals an emotional response. Luckily Spock does belong on the Enterprise.

Kirk: "You said they were benevolent and peaceful. Violent emotions overwhelm them, destroy them. I had to make you angry enough to shake off their influence. That's the answer, Mister Spock."

Spock: "That may be correct, Captain, but trying to initiate a brawl with over five hundred crewmen and colonists is hardly logical."

Kirk: "I had something else in mind. Can you put together a subsonic transmitter? Something we can hook into the communications station and broadcast over the communicator?"

Jim is not directly addressing the fact that he did this to save Spock. He didn't want to lose him. Yes, he needed Spock to help him save everyone else but Spock is important to Jim personally and belongs with him on the Enterprise.

Spock: "It can be done."

Kirk: "Good. Let's get to work."

Spock: "Captain. Striking a fellow officer is a court martial offense."

Kirk: "Well, if we're both in the Brig, who's going to build the subsonic transmitter?"

Spock: "That is quite logical, Captain."

Jim is going back to his usual way of communicating with Spock: kind, almost jovial, focusing on logic, and giving Spock a purpose because he really needs him as a colleague. He's happy to have Spock back to normal. While Spock regrets losing the spores and his sense of perceived belonging, Jim values Spock in the way he's always known him: Vulcan and human, taciturn and logical.

[bullet-prooflove]

Addict: Dean Archer x Reader (feat: Sean Archer)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @sweetdaytimedreams @cosmic-psychickitty @squeakowl

Companion piece to:

Make A Wish - Sean is triggered on his birthday when he sees a familiar face in the paper.

A Good Day - Sean's day takes a turn when he comes face to face with the man who abused him.

Dean doesn’t realise that Sean’s been fired from his position as a sobriety counsellor not until he runs into Margo in the E.D. He’s treating one of her patients for a head injury when she turns up to support them. It’s a little awkward to say the least because he hasn’t seen her since the night she kissed him, since he told her he wouldn’t fuck anyone else but his wife.

“I’m sorry about the way things went with Sean.” She tells him, shaking her head outside the medical bay. “I hope there’s no hard feelings.”

“I don’t understand.” He tells her, stripping off his gloves and tossing them into medical waste bin. “What happened with Sean?”

“I had to let him go a couple of days ago.” Margo tells him, placing a hand on her hip. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t.” He says, gesturing between the two of them. “It wasn’t because of me was it? Because I wouldn’t-”

“No.” She sighs crossing her arms over her chest. “He hit his new boss, broke his nose. We have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to violence so I had to fire him.”

Dean walks away in a daze because even on his worst days, that boy was never violent. When he can’t get through to Sean on the phone, there’s this dread in his chest, one that lingers throughout his entire shift. A big change like this, it can mess with someone in recovery, it can tip them back over the edge.

When he turns up at Sean’s apartment that night, his son looks worse for wear. There’s dark circles under his eyes, his curls are a mess, he looks tired, more tired than Dean has seen him in a long time.

“You look like you could do with something to eat.” Dean says, holding up his bag of Chinese takeout. It’s from Sean’s favourite place down the street, Dean’s hoping it’ll cheer him up a little after his recent bad news.

“Yea.” Sean says, his palm rubbing over his weary features. “I’ve skipped a couple of meals lately.”

It’s when he steps into the apartment that Dean realises the state that Sean’s in. His son, he’s borderline institutionalised, everything has it’s place. What he’s looking at now is chaotic and disorganised, a reflection of Sean’s mind he thinks.

“Where’s Roxy tonight?” Dean asks taking a seat on the couch before he removes the red and white take out containers from the bag. There’s a Cubs game playing in the background, an old one from the other night.

“We’re on a break.” Sean tells him as he pokes at the food within the container with his chopsticks.  

“Since when…” Dean asks, his heart sinking because Sean’s life, it seems to be falling down around his head.

“Since I was arrested for punching my new boss.” Sean says without looking up from his meal. “I told her some stuff and she used it to get me released from PD and it’s put me in a position that I didn’t want to be in. Right now I’m not in a place where I can forgive that.”

“What kind of stuff?” Dean says, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown and Sean looks away, his jaw clenching. For a second Dean thinks he’s about to shut down but instead he exhales before meeting his father’s gaze.

“Do you remember Reg Richards?” Sean asks, setting the container down and pushing it away from him.

It takes Dean a few minutes to place the name, he flits through years of memory until he lands on the identity of the man.

“He was your patrol leader when you were in Navy Cadets, you used to love it.” He says thoughtfully. “Until you didn’t…”

“Yea he’s the reason I stopped loving it.” Sean informs him with a bitterness that causes Dean’s heart to twist in his chest. “It started on my 14th birthday and it stopped when I ran away the first time.”

The air rushes out of Dean’s lungs, it feels like he’s been stabbed, like someone has plunged a knife between his ribs and twisted the blade.

“My God Sean.” He whispers, his palm rubbing across his mouth. “I kept sending you back.”

“Yea dad.” Sean says softly, meeting his father’s gaze. “That’s why I went off the rails, that’s why I became an addict.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[myheromarveldemia]

Endeavor is a stereotypical old-school parent and you can’t take that headcanon away from me.

Todoroki and Deku were having a study date in the former’s dorm room when the latter saw the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?” Deku asked. “You look like you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“I didn’t.” Todoroki yawned. “I had a nightmare about a repressed childhood memory.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Deku gazed at him with saddened eyes. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Todoroki gazed at the floor. “Well…”

Little Todoroki watched in awe at the hero on his screen striking a valiant pose. In addition to being amazed by his bravery, he became intrigued by the cigarette in his mouth.

“Wow, he looks cool! I wanna look cool like him!” Todoroki saw that his father had left behind his pack of cigarettes and lighter. Curious, he plopped a cigarette in his mouth and attempted to light it. He barely succeeded, and it took only a single inhale for him to begin coughing profusely.

Suddenly, he heard the front door open, his heart racing at the heavy footsteps he knew belonged to his father.

“Hey, Shoto, have you seen my—” Endeavor was livid at the sight of his son smoking. “You little snot-nosed brat!”

“I’m sorry, Dad!” Shoto wailed.

Endeavor glared at him but simply pointed to the dinner table. “Sit.”

When the boy did as he was told, Endeavor threw the pack of cigarettes on the table. “See that? You’re going to smoke that entire pack of cigarettes.”

Todoroki was aghast. “What?!”

“No, no, it’s okay! You wanted to be cool, right? Well, now’s your chance to prove yourself! Come on, smoke! Here, I’ll be a good pal and help you get started.” Endeavor stuck a new cigarette in his son’s mouth and lit it. “Come on, smoke.”

Each inhale made Todoroki violently cough, his eyes watering from the smoke and a genuine sob. “Dad, I said I’m sorry!”

They were interrupted by Rei honking the horn as loud and impatiently as she could.

Endeavor rolled his eyes. “Luckily for you, I don’t feel like having your bitch mother bitch at me skipping out on marriage counseling again. I mean, excuse me for teaching my kid a valuable life lesson, right?” He shook his head as he left the house. “The moral of the story is: stay out of my shit.”

Todoroki was sore and hoarse. “I feel sick.”

Deku’s eyes only grew more sympathetic. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Todoroki shrugged. “It is what it is. Silver lining: it kept me from ever picking up a cigarette again. They’re not the healthiest things in the world. I may have my demons, but I shouldn’t resort to something as unhealthy as smoking as a coping mechanism.” He grabbed a bottle of bourbon and began pouring it into a glass. “Nothing but healthy coping mechanisms here.”

[tiramissyoucake]

You are going to continue with the story of Mark capturing the reader and her son. I think it's very dramatic. What happens if her son is afraid/hates her because he perceives horror in his mother? What will Mark do to the reader? It would be incredible if you wrote it yourself. Your work will give me encouragement during these exam dates. Wish me luck.

good luck with your exams !! remember to take care of yourself, balance rest and work properly and do your best!! you've got this !! <3 I will continue the series dw !! I do wanna see everyone's responses to make sure the story satisfies the majority but atp I think it will have multiple branches of different endings and outcomes. I am not sure what Mark would do to reader but I am leaning to the idea of isolation. where the son barely sees her because Mark would be busy catching up as a father and training the boy or seeing what he can do if his powers didn't kick in yet. Reader is stuck in a room more desolate than the previous bedroom, Mark literally mentally breaks her, an elongated "think about what you've done" until she becomes hyperdependant on him or becomes so desperate to see her son she obeys, praying to god he's ok. at first, I feel like Mark would be irritated at every question his son asks because it's always "Where's mom?" "Can I see mom?" "Can I see mom after this?" I am thinking of writing a long 2 part post dedicated to an escape and capture thing once I hash out a few details <3

[bestruction]

I was wondering what are your thoughts about how many children sasuke would have and what are their genders, ages and names. Maybe even their personalities and if they were mama's/daddy's girl/boy ( also, can I be 🐈‍⬛)

That's such a sweet thought, 🐈‍⬛️

I believe the answer to the question, "How many kids would he have?" depends mostly on you. He never thought he would go back to the village, rebuild his district, build a life with you, be loved, and be forgiven for everything. These are normal parts of life that he unlearned due to all his trauma and the war.

Your first child was an accident—him coming back from a mission looking way too good for your liking (and when doesn’t he?), mixed with impatient + your and his horny side and forgetting to check for condoms. You two were usually very careful, and he really thought he could pull out... But honestly, you both got too caught up in the moment to think about anything.

When you got a positive pregnancy test a few months later, he was down for whatever you wanted to do.

Do you want to keep it? Then he's supporting you.

You don't want to keep it? Then he's supporting you.

You were the most important thing in his life. Of course, he was ready to follow whatever you decided. When you chose to go through with the pregnancy, I swear to god, he was ready to build a crib with his own sword if you asked him.

On the outside, he looked calm, but inside, he was terrified. What if he didn't know how to be there for the child and for you? What if he messed this up? He had already broken your heart once by leaving. If he did it again—especially now—you would never look at him the same way. Plus, your friends would kill him for sure.

You two had cats, and they both adored him. That was a good sign, right?

He kept repeating that thought in his mind over and over again while your belly grew. And let me tell you, he was basically a hawk over you. 😮‍💨 He was already overprotective by nature, but seeing you pregnant made it ten times worse. That’s something else to explore later.

When your first boy was born, he was... too stunned to speak. The first Uchiha in years. The first after all the tragedies. He felt like he was holding a new beginning—one that had your nose but his sharp eyes. That’s why he named him Haruki.

Haruki was the spring he never knew he was waiting for.

For the first few days, he was so flabbergasted that you two had created a life together that he wouldn't let the baby out of his sight for even two seconds. How could the same hands that had caused so much bloodshed now hold something so fragile?

I know that in Boruto, he isn’t present in Sarada’s life, and that’s one of the many reasons I pretend that shit doesn’t exist.

Family was everything to Sasuke. After starting a new one, I don’t see him ever leaving their side. If anything, he was afraid—afraid that leaving would mean losing everything again.

He only started accepting missions again when Haruki was about five months old, and even then, he never took assignments that would keep him away for more than a week. I feel like every time he came back, he had this heavy feeling in his chest—this fear of opening the door and finding you and the baby gone, just like when he had come home from school and found his parents dead. That image would forever live in his mind. But the fear disappeared the moment he slid the door open and heard a small voice scream, "Papa!!" before little feet raced toward him, and you greeted him with a kiss.

Is your son a mama’s boy or a daddy’s boy? That’s hard to say. He follows Sasuke everywhere, yes. He’s observant, just like his father, so he picks up on things quickly and mimics everything he does—including protecting Mama at all costs. But he isn’t quiet... at all. Put this boy and Naruto in a room together, and they could destroy it. His observant side made him curious and adventurous. Plus, he wanted to be brave and strong like his father.

When Haruki was around five years old, you started thinking about having another child. After many conversations and making sure you were financially stable, you gave birth to a girl... more like a carbon copy of your husband. 😭 She literally got nothing from you. Nothing. Your genes didn’t even put up a fight this time.

And after seeing you suffer through childbirth a second time? Never again. 🫡 Not even if you begged him for another one. He couldn't watch you cry in pain like that a third time.

Miyuki wasn’t just Sasuke’s copy in appearance, she had his personality too. While Haruki was talkative, loved playing with his uncle Naruto, and ran around giving you and Sasuke heart attacks, Miyuki was different. There was no doubt, she was a daddy’s girl. She was more shy, especially around people she didn’t know, and clung to him constantly. Sometimes, you swore they could read each other’s thoughts. Sasuke didn’t talk much, Miyuki didn’t either, but somehow, he always knew exactly what she wanted and needed.

[iminmyfics]

Chapter 1: The Dark Lord's Son

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Fic Summary: A Gryffindor with a hidden past finds herself unexpectedly drawn to Mattheo Riddle amidst the brewing tensions at Hogwarts. As their connection deepens, they must navigate the complexities of their families, loyalties, and the looming threat of the wizarding war. Can their bond withstand the darkness, or will their opposing worlds tear them apart?

Chapter Summary: What happens when a Gryffindor with a dark past gets partnered with a certain Slytherin for a potions project, and he's not what she thought.

Word count: 2.4k.

Warnings: mentions of scars, pain, past abuse (implied), references to past trauma.

a/n: this is my first ever fic, so please be kind! This chapter is part of a kind of long series I'm preparing, so stay tuned for that. Also English is not my first language, so if there's any spelling or grammar mistakes, I apologize. Let me know and I'll review it. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

The towering shelves of the Hogwarts library loomed around me, each ancient tome a silent sentinel guarding secrets I wasn't sure I wanted to uncover. My fingers, tracing the worn spines, felt the weight of history—a history that, for me, was far too personal. My gaze drifted, drawn against my will, to the figure seated at the far oak table. Mattheo Riddle.

Even his name was a raw wound, a phantom echo of the night my life shattered. It wasn't him, not directly, but the name "Riddle" itself, a dark brand that brought with it the chilling memory of my father's alliance, and the terror that followed. It was a physical ache, a tremor that ran through me, as vivid as the scar etched across my back. Yet, I couldn't look away. He was hunched over a leather-bound journal, his dark head bent in concentration, the scratch of his quill the only sound in the hushed stillness. There was a quiet intensity about him, a focus that seemed to defy the dark legacy he carried.

He glanced up, and for a fleeting moment, our eyes met. A flicker of something in his gaze—a subtle amusement, a hint of something softer—made my breath catch. It was a stark contrast to the whispers that followed him, the shadows that clung to his name. Around us, the library hummed with the soft rustle of pages, the hushed murmurs of students, a symphony of secrets and unspoken histories...

I moved through the labyrinth of shelves, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, each step a hesitant dance towards an unknown truth. I paused by a tall, arched window, where the afternoon's gray light spilled onto the stone floor. Setting down my bag, I felt the familiar tremor in my fingers, a cold reminder of the night that still haunted my dreams.

The memories surged back, unbidden—the cruel laughter, the jeering voices, my father's looming shadow. The searing pain, the feeling of betrayal. My hand instinctively moved to the scar hidden beneath my robes, tracing its raised edge, a physical manifestation of my past. I pressed against it, trying to ground myself, to push the memories back into the shadows where they belonged.

When I dared to look at Mattheo again, he was writing, the quill moving with a precise elegance that mirrored his composed demeanor. He looked… unchanged. Serious, focused, just as I remembered him from those fleeting childhood encounters, before everything fell apart. Yet, here, in the quiet sanctuary of the library, there was something different, something I couldn't quite define.

People whispered "Riddle" like it was a curse, a label that explained everything. But I knew better. Or, at least, I thought I did. I saw a boy, a student, like me, burdened by secrets and carrying his own scars. And for a moment, just a moment, I wondered if our scars, though born of different horrors, might somehow connect us.

With a quiet sigh, I turned my gaze to the worn book in my hands, seeking the familiar comfort of its pages. My fingers traced the faded title, a silent question against the rough texture, but the words offered no solace. They couldn't answer the questions that Mattheo's presence stirred within me, questions I dared not voice. Why did he fascinate me so, this boy who should have been nothing more than a haunting reminder of my darkest hours? I knew the answer, or at least a shadow of it, but I refused to give it form, fearing its power to consume me.

The library's hushed silence enveloped us like a shroud, each rustle of parchment a whispered secret, each creak of the floorboards a heartbeat in the stillness. I felt the weight of unseen eyes, the whispers that followed me even here, in this sanctuary of knowledge. 

"Isn't that the girl from…?" "Didn't she…?" I forced myself to ignore them, to build a wall against their curiosity, refusing to let their judgments define me, just as I refused to let Mattheo's name define him. If only it were that simple, to shed the layers of history and expectation that clung to us both.

The steady rhythm of footsteps echoed across the stone floor, a relentless pulse in the quiet. For a moment, I considered fleeing, retreating before I allowed myself to feel too deeply, to unravel the careful defenses I'd constructed. But something held me rooted to the spot, a stubborn defiance against the fear and uncertainty that had dictated my life for too long.

I stood there, watching Mattheo with an intensity that bordered on desperation, an unspoken plea to understand the enigma he presented. And though he didn't initially look up, I sensed his awareness, a subtle shift in his stillness, as if he could feel the weight of my gaze through the layers of his concentration.

Then, his eyes met mine. Around us, time seemed to suspend, the library's hum fading into a silent tableau. I imagined reaching out, breaking the invisible barrier between us with a touch, a word, something real. Instead, I offered him a small, tentative smile.

He returned it, a smile far gentler than I had imagined, a flicker of warmth in the cool depths of his eyes. It was a fleeting moment, a fragile connection in the midst of unspoken histories.

Finally, I slipped the book into my bag, a silent farewell. Then, with a resolve that felt as fragile as it was determined, I turned away, leaving him to his quiet work and my own restless thoughts. As I walked towards the exit, I glanced back one last time. 

The afternoon light had shifted, casting long, dramatic shadows across the table where Mattheo still sat, his figure a study in stark contrasts. My heart beat a little faster, a flutter of anticipation mixed with a deep, unsettling unease, caught between the pull of the past and the uncertain promise of what might be when I saw that he was already watching me. His gaze steady and unreadable. I sighed, a breath that held both longing and resignation, and continued my retreat, the whispers fading into the background hum of the library.

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

The cramped Potions classroom, already thick with the cloying scent of simmering ingredients, seemed to shrink further as Professor Snape announced our pairings. A collective, almost imperceptible, stiffening rippled through the room when his voice, laced with its usual drawl, stated, “Miss Gladsworth and Mr. Riddle, you’ll be working together on today’s Draught of Peace.”

The air crackled with unspoken questions, scandalized whispers, and the kind of tense silence that only Snape could command. I felt a flush creep up my neck, a mixture of annoyance and something else, something I couldn’t quite name, a prickle of unease that was more intense than usual for his class. Mattheo, standing beside me, offered a wry, almost sardonic smile. “Well,” he remarked, his voice threaded with dry humor that belied the tension in his posture. “We might just defy all expectations today.”

I returned a measured smile, the kind that softened the edges of my wary expression without fully erasing them. The dim candlelight flickered over our cauldron and the jumble of ingredients on the scarred wooden bench, casting shadows that loomed like the shared history between us. We moved in tentative synchrony, stirring the simmering potion with a focus that spoke of both anxiety and determination. Around us, classmates exchanged knowing, and slightly fearful, glances, but the quiet collaboration that unfolded began to transform the atmosphere, hinting at an unexpected connection growing amidst the potions and candlelight.

Our cauldron hissed and bubbled, releasing a cloud of acrid steam. As I reached for a small vial of powdered porcupine quills, my fingers brushed against Mattheo’s. A jolt, something between surprise and recognition, shot through me, and I pulled back slightly, my breath catching in my throat. His eyes met mine, a flash of something inscrutable passing between us before he turned back to the potion. “Careful,” he said, the word carrying more weight than a simple caution.

I nodded, swallowing a response that felt too complicated to voice. The classroom seemed to close in around us, the shadows pressing close like the curious eyes of our classmates, and the ever present watchful gaze of Professor Snape. Mattheo measured a precise portion of hellebore syrup, his hand steady despite the murmurs that rippled through the room. I watched him, noting the subtle tightness in his jaw, a sign of tension that mirrored my own restless energy. I added my share of ingredients, my fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against the bowl, betraying the nervousness I tried to hide.

“Perhaps a touch more powdered moonstone?” Mattheo suggested, his voice low, almost a whisper. He gestured with his wand, a delicate flick that added the ingredient with precision. “Or are you trying to induce a more… permanent peace?”

I met his gaze, a flicker of amusement sparking in my eyes despite the tension. “Only if you’re planning on being particularly trying,” I retorted, adding the moonstone.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The air between us crackled with unspoken words, with the weight of our shared history and the fragile beginnings of something new. We continued to work, the potion simmering, the tension simmering alongside it, under the watchful, and undoubtedly critical, eye of Professor Snape.

"What do you think they're saying?" I asked, my voice low, though not low enough to be entirely lost in the potion’s simmering rhythm. It was a question I hadn’t intended to voice, an impulsive break in the charged silence, but the air was thick with unspoken things, and I needed to puncture it somehow.

Mattheo looked up, his expression a careful blend of amusement and resignation. “Probably nothing we haven’t heard before,” he replied, stirring the mixture with deliberate, almost hypnotic care. “And a few things we haven’t.”

His words, delivered with such casual precision, drew an unexpected laugh from me, soft and breathy, a momentary release of the tension that had coiled within me. I relaxed, if only by a fraction, the gesture feeling like a small act of rebellion against the fear and doubt that usually defined my interactions. We continued to work in tandem, our movements gradually finding a rhythm that eased the lingering awkwardness. I marveled at how the simple act of brewing a potion could feel like the most significant thing in the world, a fragile bridge between our disparate realities.

Around us, the whispers faded into a low, indistinct hum, less insistent as the other students focused on their own tasks or simply lost interest in the unfolding spectacle. I felt the weight of their scrutiny lift, allowing me to draw a steadier breath. I risked another glance at Mattheo, finding him just as intent on our project, but with a softening around his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before, a subtle shift in his guarded demeanor.

“It’s strange,” I said, after a long silence punctuated only by the soft bubbling of the potion. “I never thought we’d be here, doing this.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Brewing a confounding concoction? Or doing anything together at all?”

“Both,” I admitted, the word carrying a delicate mix of relief and something more tender, a vulnerability I barely dared acknowledge. It felt like peeling away a guarded layer, exposing just enough of myself to make my heart race, but not enough to leave me entirely defenseless.

“We’re full of surprises, aren’t we?” Mattheo replied, his tone light but his eyes serious, as if he understood the weight of this moment more than he let on, as if he recognized the unspoken truce we were forging.

We added the final components to the potion, the liquid swirling into a deep, mesmerizing hue. I found myself entranced by the colors, by the way our collaboration had created something beautiful amidst the uncertainty. The classroom seemed less oppressive now, the dim light a cocoon rather than a cage, enveloping us in a fragile sense of possibility, a silent promise of something more.

The first part of the project neared completion, the potion settling into a steady simmer that mirrored the newfound calm between them. Their hands stilled, no longer rushing or colliding, but resting side by side on the scarred tabletop. Aurora felt the last vestiges of tension in her shoulders dissipate, her anxiety dissolving like the gentle steam rising from the cauldron.

“Looks like we might have done it,” she said, allowing a note of genuine triumph to color her voice. It was a small victory, a simple potion brewed successfully, but it felt momentous, a tangible symbol of their unexpected collaboration.

Mattheo nodded, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Not quite a miracle, but close,” he agreed, his words carrying a warmth that surprised and unsettled her in equal measure.

They shared a moment of quiet acknowledgment, a silent understanding that transcended the need for words. The whispered conversations around them resumed, a low, indistinct hum, but they seemed distant, muted, like echoes from another world. Aurora and Mattheo stood together in the center of their own small, illuminated universe, surrounded by candlelight and the heady scent of fresh"brewed possibilities.

As the class ended, the reluctant scrape of benches signaled the return to reality, the intrusion of the mundane. Aurora lingered, her gaze fixed on the potion, a mixture of pride and disbelief swirling within her. It was more than just a project completed; it was a hesitant step into the unknown, a path neither of them had dared to imagine.

“Until next time?” Mattheo’s voice, soft and low, brought her back to the present, to the weight of his unspoken question. There was an openness in his tone, an invitation that hung in the air between them, fragile and unexpected.

“Until next time,” she replied, the promise echoing in the quiet classroom, a thread of magic binding them in ways they were only beginning to comprehend. As they walked towards the exit, side by side, the whispers followed them once more. But this time, they felt different, less daunting, more like the soundtrack to a story that was just beginning to unfold, a story they were writing together.

Part 1 Part 2

[bestworstcase]

I totally forget if you've commented on this before, so my apologies if you have and I missed it, but how do you feel about theories regarding Mercury's semblance and/or eyes? what I mean by this is some people think that Mercury actually does have silver eyes or that he does still have a semblance somehow (or could form a new one) and I'm wondering what your stance is. and how the answers to these questions fit into your reading of the narrative as a whole. obviously there's something to be said for Marcus Black being abusive and seemingly killing/stealing a part of his son's soul as a part of that, etc.

ough

i have posted abt this before but it was. a while ago and i can't find the post anymore lmao so take two!!

some facts:

elemental mercury is commonly called quicksilver, and its symbol Hg derives from its older name hydrargyrum, from the greek, meaning "silver water."

mercury is the roman god of trade and eloquence, travel and theft; the divine messenger; and a psychopomp who guides souls of the newly dead to the underworld. 

some more facts:

silver-eyed warriors are symbolically linked to 1. the grim(m) reaper and 2. butterflies, which are commonly and cross-culturally regarded as symbols of death/reincarnation. 

"In Rome one can see a marble bas-relief representing a young man stretched out on a bed, and a  butterfly which, in flight, seems to be exiting the mouth of this dead man, because the ancients, as well as the common people of our day, believed that the spirit leaves through the mouth."

(quirks eyebrow.)

silver eyes have some metaphysical connection to death that goes beyond symbolism: ruby's eyes awaken when she witnesses death and she hears pyrrha's final words in her dreams for months afterward; the light arises from love and grief; salem herself seems to have begun experimenting with silver eyes and resurrection and grimm after cinder's injury. 

the glare itself at least resembles the pure white light of the threshold between life and death (personally, i think it is that light)

the silver-eyed warrior of legend is not a person; she is a hero destined to live and die alone fighting grimm because that is what she is meant for. she exists for no other purpose. (she is the mirror-image of a grimm.)

"All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be. […] You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!"

(quirks eyebrow.)

ok. so, we've got

☑️ a boy with silvery-grey eyes

☑️ alluding to a mythical psychopomp

☑️ named "quicksilver"/"silver water"

☑️ or "keeper of boundaries"

☑️ raised to be a killer/warrior

☑️ violently denied his personhood

☑️ nihilistically feels destined for this life

lol. lmao, even!

some more facts:

when salem wounded ruby's self-image by insinuating that summer rose (really, ruby's imagined ideal self, ruby-rose-without-flaws) confronted salem and failed, ruby's glare struck inward—her conception of herself, her aspirational self, fractured and her light attacked her.

"He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my semblance, he stole it with his! 'This is a crutch! This makes you weak!' He told me I could have it back when I was strong… so I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am!"

semblances are an outward manifestation of the soul, an expression of one's true character, intertwined and inextricable from a person's identity and self-image. 

mercury is extremely toxic. famously. 

quirks. eyebrow.

ok. ok

think about what happened with ruby's eyes solely from hearing salem say "your mother said those words to me; she was wrong, too"—because her conception of herself is so bound up in the idea of summer rose, ideal huntress, the best of us, supermom, perfected reflection of ruby rose, all she wishes she was—confronting the real summer rose, who tried and failed and never came back, fractures ruby's self-identity and precipitates her tailspin in v8-9 and that begins with her light rebounding on her.

(this is because silver eyes require true self-knowledge and clarity of purpose which is why ruby struggles with them, in this essay i will—)

so think about that. and consider the implications for a silver-eyed boy abused and molded from birth into something antithetical to the nature of this magic—a remorseless killer—whose true self was literally stolen from him by his father. and he never got it back. 

(*i think mercury is probably not a reliable narrator in regard to what his father did to him—he was a kid and he's still taking what his horrifically abusive father said to him as objective fact—and i expect he'll find his semblance again in vacuo. but this is what mercury believes is true.)

like. we know silver-eyes can be harmed by their own light: ruby's first glare put her in a coma for several days after beacon fell, and the light turned inward and hurt her when her self-image cracked. right?

gestures: mercury. quicksilver. poison.

(but also: mercury can be used to draw elemental silver from ore.) (patio process)

my theory is that 

mercury does have silver eyes

marcus black's semblance was in a similar vein as tyrian's – painful disruption or forcible suppression of another person's semblance, maybe allowing him to mimic/copy that power

his semblance + his abuse and the things he said of mercury's semblance (it makes you weak, it's a crutch) shattered mercury's sense of identity and completely broke him to the idea that his sole purpose is to obey and kill. 

mercury's light reacted to this shattering by driving inward, like what happened to ruby but far more severe, and that is what caused his semblance to be (apparently) lost forever: his self-image broke in such a fundamental, traumatic way that his own light kept him alive by blinding him to his true self.

but the poison is the cure: if he finds his light again to protect someone he loves (emerald), he unblinds himself / rediscovers the true self he buried and his semblance is resurrected with it. figuratively speaking.

it's death-and-rebirth and psychopomps all the way down

[mor0ver]

in opla season two, luffy BETTER be weirdly touchy. pupby dog levels of unawareness of other people's personal space. any time zoro lifts arms even a little in comes his captain to stand way too close to him. nami stands still too long and suddenly oop luffy his resting his chin on her head... she doesn't have it in her to push him off. usopp sitting down to work on something? whats that pushing its way into his lap-oh its luffy, hey buddy. sanji has woken up multiple times to luffy careening into his bed and half of those ended in him staying to chat for like fifteen minutes.

[deadpoetsandlivinglegends]

Feel like Neil couldn’t have been any other kind of actor than one in theatre. If he was a movie actor or on social media or whatnot, it would not be the same. Theatre by nature is fleeting. Recorded mediums can be rewatched over and over, creating a time loop of sorts. We the audience can keep going back to a time when Neil is still alive. Theatre however is live and once the play is over, there is no going back except in our memories. It is much like life. We are forced to live in the moment in a theater lest we miss it altogether. It’s not that the poets choose to live in a world where Neil is dead, it’s that they must because the only other option is to die themselves. I feel like Keatings teachings could only be reflected in stage theatre because that’s the only way there can be no time loop of grief. I think dead poets society itself isn’t about overcoming the authority in your life to do what you want but rather about grief, about allowing oneself to feel grief and all one’s emotions without letting it consume you and to keep living after, to live every day in the moment lest you fall into grief and regret that will destroy you or force you into a miserable life