#i always told myself i'd love to stream

[oreana-galena]

I need to stop telling myself 'I'm not ready' this year. I really do.

[mrsparrasblog]

Makarov X Price Daughter pt.2

Pt 1 pt.3

You woke up with the worst headache of your life. Did you drink too much yesterday? You didn't remember drinking at all, only meeting the most handsome man you ever saw in your life who was interested in you and charming. When you slowly shifted in bed, you felt some difference. Your bed felt more comfortable and not so small anymore. It wasn't your usual twin-sized bed; it was a king-sized bed and very comfortable. Did you go to his place yesterday and forget?

You opened your eyes and gasped. This was definitely not your home. The room you stayed in was gigantic. The bed sheets were made of satin, and not the poor ones, but expensive satin, and they were pink. The whole room was to your aesthetic. Were you dreaming? You must have. You wiggled your legs away from the satin sheets, noticing the pajamas you wore. You didn't remember buying this. Just a dream.

As you jumped out of the comfortable bed, the dream turned into a nightmare. There were four military men pointing guns at you. "Куда, по-вашему, вы направляетесь?"

Russian. Your mysterious bachelor from yesterday was Russian too, but it couldn't be. He was so nice. You whined as you replied, tears streaming down from your face onto your soft cheeks. "Sir, I don't understand Russian."

They rolled their eyes at you and chuckled. They didn't speak with you, only gesturing for you to sit down and point their guns at you, and you obeyed. You remembered how your dad always told Tina, If someone points a gun at you, listen. He never told you anything about how to save your life in these kinds of situations. It is ironic to think that you were in this situation. You asked your dad once if he'd teach you how to shoot a gun, but he said things like that wouldn't be for girls like you, more for girls like Tina.

After sitting in the same spot for an hour, Vlad really entered the door. "Princess, were my guards too ruthless, or why do you cry?"

You couldn't believe how naive you were. Of course, a man like him had ulterior motives when he flirted with you. "Why are your guards pointing a gun at me?"

"Oh, Princess, are you scared?"

You only nodded and gasped when his reaction to your nod was to shoot one of his guards in the head. The blood splattered on the remaining two guards and on the soft white carpet. You were horrified. You had never seen someone get killed in front of you, and you were scared out of your life. He killed his own man without any remorse.

"Sorry, Princess, about the mess, but you don't need to be scared. I'll always protect you," he said with a sinister smile as if he really thought he was my protector, but he wasn't. He was a psychopath.

"Why am I here?"

"You know your dad pissed me off, and I wanted to teach him a lesson, but I'm a man of resources, and your ass is worth enough not to be killed. Besides, I'd like to see John Price begging to spare your life."

You didn't know why, but you laughed. You got kidnapped for your dad, who didn't even make time to come to your birthday, as if he had time to save you from Vlad. "I think you got the wrong daughter for that. That will be my death, and my father won't care enough to save the biggest disappointment in his life."

"Oh, Princess, I know that you think your daddy hates you and loves your ugly little sister, but want to know a secret?" He grinned, his eyes darkening.

You only nodded. You thought you didn't want to know, but you would agree with everything. Vlad didn't seem like the guy to tolerate your sassiness.

"Tina isn't his."

"What?"

"Yes, your annoying stepmom cheated."

"My life is a joke."

He screamed at you, "I don't tolerate negativity towards yourself. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Vlad."

"Good girl," he purred, nipping at your neck. He wasn't someone who showed care or ever felt affection before, but he was always possessive, never sharing, not even as a kid. So, this was his way to go: marking your neck, showering you with gifts, and showing everyone touching you would get them killed—and not in a merciful way. He didn't know why or what spell you put him under, but you occupied his mind. He was almost close to killing you for it, but he had better things in mind—more selfish things for you. "You know, my princess, I have big plans for you."

"It's beautiful," you said flatly, not wanting to satisfy him to much.

He grabbed your wrist roughly and walked you to a second room, a walk-in closet. How rich was this guy? There was everything you could have imagined—everything from your Pinterest board. And everything was straight-up luxury: Louboutins, YSL heels, Chanel dresses, Cartier jewelry, and a Birkin bag. Who is this guy?

"Is this—"

"I almost needed to kill someone for that stupid bag, but everything for you, princess," he said. The sound of his flickering tongue made your stomach grumble.

"You can't buy my love!" You screamed, your emotions pent up, and you started to cry again.

He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down into the basement of this mansion, showing you a dark and cold room. "Stop being ungrateful, or I'll let you rot here." He didn't need to prove anything. You knew he was ruthless by the way he killed his own men.

"I'm sorry, Vlad."

"Good girl," he purred, nipping at your neck. He wasn't someone who showed care or ever felt affection before, but he was always possessive, never sharing, not even as a kid.

So, this was his way to go: marking your neck, showering you with gifts, and showing everyone touching you would get them killed—and not in a merciful way. He didn't know why or what spell you put him under, but you occupied his mind. He was almost close to killing you for it, but he had better things in mind—more selfish things for you.

"You know, my princess, I have big plans for you."

"Kill me and send my corpse to my dad?" You said it sarcastically, and he smirked at your response.

"You know this is my empire, and every good empire needs its queen."

"No."

"Oh, you think you have a say in this? You will fall in love with me anyway, pathetic little girl."

He grabbed you and pushed you deeper into him, the tip of his finger gliding around your bottom lip, savoring the slickness from your trembling lips before kissing you forcefully. He wasn't a man who kissed without ulterior motives normally, always feeling disgusted by this. But right now, he wanted to claim every inch of you, showing you that you are indeed his.

Like a reflex, you leaned into his kiss, feeling the need to savor this moment. He could have only asked you out, and you would have agreed, but now you're his plaything.

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran

[tomssexdoll]

what’s up babygirl how you doing?

Sooo here’s my request Tom is reader’s boyfriend and you know he’s smoking but he won’t allow reader to smoke not like the master way but like the caring boyfriend way and she wants to try cigarette so once she steal one from Tom’s pack on his bedside table and smokes it and Tom catches her and it’s on you how it will end

that’s all ily byeeee

HEYYYY BBG IM GOOD HRU

My boyfriend Tom is a smoker, yet he doesn't allow me to do it?

I was always confused by it, howcome he could destroy his lungs but not me? I eventually figured it out to him caring for me, he wanted me to take care of myself and not pick up bad habits like him.

One day I was curious, wanting to try a cigarette, I knew he kept his cigarettes in the draw, not hiding it from me because he knew I didn't smoke. He was busy in the backyard, installing the new grill he bought.

I ran over to the draw, grabbing a cigarette out of the pack and a spare lighter he stashed in the pack. I looked at it, observing the small orange bit at the butt, the long white bit where all the tobacco was.

I lit it, holding it to my lips and sucking in, because i've never smoked, when I inhaled I immediately started coughing, my throat raw and chest slightly burning.

"Fuck..how does he smoke these" I sighed, grabbing some water and chugging it before going back to smoke it, getting used to the burning feeling at the back of my throat.

I eventually got down 3/4, my throat sore and head fuzzy. I wasn't used to the nicotine, it hit me like a truck, the headspin kind of intense. I didn't notice the heavy footsteps coming down the hall and Tom emerging into the room, seeing me at the window, smoking a cigarette.

"Oh Y/N! No!" Tom called out, rushing over to me and snatching the cigarette from me, I was stunned, looking up at Tom, his expression softening as he saw my eyes.

"Baby..I've told you not to do this, you know how bad these are for you?" he put a hand on my shoulder, stomping on the cigarette and throwing it out the window, "I heard coughing and decided to see if you were ok, why are you doing this?" he sighed.

I looked down, ashamed for what I'd done, "I just wanted to try it..you do it all the time" my lip slightly quivered, I hated confrontation. He kept on scolding me, "you never listen" he sighed "I should've known you'd do something like this" grunting slightly, his tone getting more angry.

I started to softly cry, tears streaming down my cheeks, "I'm sorry..i thought if you could do it why can't I.." wiping my tears quickly. "Oh baby..no no don't cry" he pulled me into his chest, holding me close, "I didn't mean to get mad..fuck..you know I love you, that's why I'm upset schatzi" he caressed my head, running his fingers through my hair.

"I'm sorry.." I repeated, my tears coating his white shirt, "no baby it's ok..cmon, sit with me" he held my hand, sitting me onto his lap on the bed, rubbing my back softly as I buried my face in his neck.

"You're so cute.." he chuckled "so sensitive" he kissed my neck, continuing to rub my back, reassuring me.

"You want my cock to cheer you up..?" He whispered softly, I perked my head up, nodding softly. He chuckled and layed me down onto the bed, pulling my panties off.

"Such a naughty girl..stealing my cigarettes" he muttered, sliding off his shorts and boxers, my hands reached out to his shirt, pulling it off and revealing his sweaty, toned body.

"Fuck.." I mumbled, my pussy aching for him. "Look how wet you are for me..so needy" he smirked, his tip prodding at my entrance. "Put it in..please.." I moaned, he chuckled "of course baby.." grabbing my hips and slamming his cock fully into me, stretching me out quickly.

"Fuck!" I yelped, my hands flying to his shoulders, holding onto them desperatly, he started to thrust harshly, pounding into my pussy.

"Such a sensitive girl.." he muttered, leaning down and kissing my neck softly, leaving small hickeys wherever his lips landed. "Mmmph.." I groaned, his nails digging into my hips, my back arching as his tip hit my sweet spot, pounding into it relentlessly.

"So tight.." he mumbled against my neck, rubbing his thumb over my hips, soothing the sore skin with his marks. "Ah!" I cried out, his cock continuing to slam into me, hitting all the right angles, waves of pleasure coursing throughout my body.

"Cum for me baby..make me proud" he grunted, his pace quickening, desperate to feel my pussy clamping down on his cock. I felt a knot forming in my stomach, coiling down to my core as his cock repeatedly rammed into my pussy, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Ohh fuck!" I whined, my legs twitching as my orgasm crashed down, my juices spilling all over his cock. He groaned and kept on thrusting, shooting his load into me, fucking it deep.

He rode out our highs, collapsing on top of me and playing with my hair, "you're so adorable honey" he smirked, flipping us over and letting me rest on his chest.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @kaulitzsbabyy @ballhair @ge-billsgf @estxkios @bkaulitzlover @charliesgoodboy @tomsonlyslut

[thenewausten]

please please more 2019 quackity 🥲💞💞!! it was too adorable

Thank you! Thanks for the request!

Quackity Imagine: Jealous boy.

Of course Quackity was the best best friend you could ask for, but he's not perfect, he's a human being, he makes mistakes.

He made a mistake, he fell in love with you. His best friend. It was not his fault, you were beautiful, gorgeous, funny and cool and had the most beautiful smile of the world. How could he not fall in love with someone like you?!

Well, he'd be dead in a minute if you didn't stop talking to a random guy and laughing with him. He couldn't believe it. Who was him?! "Bye!" He hears you say to the boy as you approaches your best friend. "I'm ready to go, 'Lex." You say with a smile on your face. "Who was him?" He'd ask you.

"Why? Are you jealous?" You'd mock him, laughing. "I'm not, Y/N. Just tell me." He says seriously and you stop laughing, rolling your eyes with the sudden rudeness of your friend.

"He asked me out. I met him yesterday in that football game I told you I was going."

"Uhm." He whispers, feeling his heart hurt a little with your words. "Are you okay, Alex?"

"Sure." He answers as he starts to walk a little bit faster than usual. "Wait for me! Are you sure?" You'd say, approaching him. "Yes, Y/N. Stop asking."

"Jesus, Alex. What's wrong with you today?"

"Nothing."

You were going to his house so he'd help you with your homework and then you'd play a little together like you always do. The path that used to be full of conversations and laughter was silent today and you didn’t know why, asking in your mind if you said or did something wrong to your best friend.

As soon as you two arrived you went to his bedroom, Alex was so quiet you were worried, but you decide to talk with him later.

He helped you with your homework, you loved to see Alex talk about whatever, but your heart melted every time he was teaching you mathematics or geography. You knew you shouldn't feel what you felt for him, knowing he'd never feel the same for you. "Y/N, are you listening?!" He asks as he sees you were rambling while looking at him. "Yes, Alex. Of course I'm." You answered, smiling. "Then what I just said?" He asks and you laugh. "Uhm- Cosine is equal to adjacent side over hypotenuse...?" He laughs and rolls his eyes at the same time. "This is geometry, we are studying algebra, Y/N."

"Really? They're not all the same thing?" He looks at you with a shocked expression on his face. "I'm kidding, pendejo." You laugh as he gets out of bed. "You're a terrible person, Y/N."

"Thank you." You see Alex leave the room, he was probably going to the bathroom and you receive a message of the random guy, asking if you were free tomorrow. You sent him a "yess" and when Alex came back, you sat on his bed and smiled."Guess who has a date tomorrow afternoon?"

"What?" He asks. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going on a date with the guy I met at the football game, 'Lex!" You answer. "Yes, Y/N, but tomorrow you were going to stream with me." Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

"Sorry, can we remark the stream?"

"Really?!" Alex couldn't believe in you. Remark the fucking stream so you'd go on a date with an asshole?! Damn, it was better if you killed him with a knife.

"Yes. I just said I'd be free, 'Lex, please!" You say and he doesn't answer you, just looks at your face. "Alex."

"No, I'll do it by myself." He answers. "Can you leave?" What?! Was he asking you to leave? "What?! Why?" You get out of his bed and try to approach him. "Just go, Y/N."

"No, I won't. I'm sorry, Alex. I really forgot, I thought we'd stream only in the next week!" You say, Quackity rolls his eyes with your words."Yeah, sure." You feel the bitter irony in his voice and your heart hurts in your chest. "C'mon, I really want to stream with you, 'Lex."

"Yes, I see it." Alex starts to put away the books he was using with you. "I swear." You'd whisper.

"Whatever." God, you loved Alex with all your heart, but sometimes you'd hate him. "Go on your date."

"Stop acting like that!" You say. "You're being so mean to me the whole day."

"Uh, sorry? You're the one who left me so you can go on a fucking date with an asshole."

"You're jealous." You'd whisper."Why?"

"I'm not." He'd deny. "Be honest with me, Alex. C'mon, man, we're best friends."

"That's the problem." He says and you can hear the sadness in his voice. "We're best friends."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't make me explain, Y/N, please." His voice cracks a little and you approach him. Your heart were beating so fast, does the boy you were in love with loved you back?

"Do you like me?" You asked, staring at his face. "I'm in love with you. I know you don't feel the same, but..."

"Who said I don't?"

Alex was afraid of losing your friendship, but at the same time, he was relieved to have said what he really felt for you. When you cut him, he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. What? He thought, feeling his heart beating faster and gaining a little hope.

"Are you in love with me?" He asks, afraid of the answer, afraid of having misunderstood.

"Yes, dumbass." He smiles to you. "So there's no fucking way you're going to this fucking date tomorrow, Y/N."

"Fuck the date, Alex. I wanted to go when I didn't know my best friend was in love with me." You laugh.

"And you are in love with me." He says and you nod, with a smile on your face."Will you hit me if I kiss you?"

"Of course not, just do it." Alex smiles and leans in to kiss you, you feel his lips against yours and one of his hands on your cheeks, the other one on your waist. Kissing him was like an explosion of fireworks on New Year's Day, you both were in ecstasy as you experienced this kind of connection for the first time.

Alex break the kiss so you two can breath a little, he gives you a peck on the lips and holds your face with his both hands. "I love you so much, Y/N."

"I love you too, Alex, so much." You sit on his bed and grab your notebook with all those numbers and equations. "You have to finish helping me with my homework."

"Sure, but first we have more interesting things to do." He sits next to you, pulling your face close to his, you smile to him as he connects your lips.

Note: I'd do HC's but I dreamed with this one so I decided to write :D

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the writing! :)

Requests are open!

[spectersgirl]

Hi love! I’m not entirely sure how you feel about angst (I’m not the biggest fan of it myself) but I had this idea of Harvey making his usual morally grey decisions and reader getting upset with him about it but with like a super fluffy ending because I need that. ♥️

I do like a bit of angst from time to time, this I can do! I'd love to be able to go more into detail on specifics of cases or what would happen as a punishment but unfortunately, my only legal knowledge comes from the show, sooo this is the best I can do :) I hope you like it!!

Faith in Me

Harvey Specter x Reader

-------

"Harvey, this is wrong and you know it!"

"Whose side are you on here? I'm doing my job, Y/N. You know as well as I do that Hopkins doesn't deserve to go to jail for this! He's innocent. It's total bullshit! I find this document and this whole thing goes away."

"Whose side am I on?! Harvey of course I'm on your side, I'm your wife! Of course I know he doesn't deserve to go away for this, but this isn't the right way to do it."

"Y/N, I don't have time for this. I know you don't like this and neither do I, but it's what I have to do to win this goddamn thing. It's a bluff, and it's gonna work."

Harvey was defending a long-time client who was accused of corporate fraud. He knew this client wasn't guilty, the accuser had been shady the whole way through, and you believed Harvey but this wasn't sitting right with you. You were terrified of the consequences Harvey's actions could cause.

You now stood from the couch in your and Harvey's shared home, pacing through your living room.

"You're manufacturing evidence! Harvey, what if they find out. Do you understand what that means? What this could do to you? To us?" Tears threatened to fall from your eyes now. You both loved and hated the fact that Harvey was willing to fight to the death for what he believed in. It's what made him an incredible lawyer, and an incredible protector as your husband, but it scared the shit out of you when he was willing to cross lines and commit crimes to get what he needed.

He didn't respond. He only sat, watching you carefully, deciding what to say next.

Harvey knew from the first case he'd taken after you joined the firm how you felt about his grey areas and the lines he crossed, and until he met you he never thought twice about doing it. He absolutely hated disappointing you, but he hated losing cases, too. He knew his client deserved to win, but he had to cut a deal to keep this guy out of jail, and he knew the only way to get one was to 'find' this document.

When he finally spoke, he was quieter.

"You know I know what could happen. I'm telling you it won't. I need to do what I do. Please, just have faith in me." His voice wavered, and that was all it took for you to break down. Tears streamed down your cheeks and burned in your throat as you spoke.

"Harvey, I will always have faith in you, I love you. I always will. But I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to talk you out of this and something happened to you because nobody else had the nerve to tell you that this is a bad idea."

Harvey stood now. He held out as long as get could, but he couldn't handle seeing you like that any longer. He pulled you into his arms and rubbed your back soothingly.

"I know this is hard for you. I'm sorry. It's gonna be okay." He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"Promise me." You said quietly.

He pulled back, taking you at arm's length and looking deep into your eyes.

"Y/N, I promise. And you know I don't make promises I can't keep."

"Okay. Then if this is what you have to do, I'm behind you."

He searches your face for any signs of hesitation and for the first time tonight, since he told you his plan, he didn't find one.

"You trust me?" He asked earnestly.

"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have married you." you replied, a small smile appearing on your face.

It was Harvey's turn to smile now.

"Thank you." he whispered, wiping the tears from your face and leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was full of relief. He felt lighter than he had all day. Not because he'd won the argument, but that he still had your faith in him.

[emsylcatac]

I told myself I wouldn't write anymore but guess I lied and made an exception for tonight oop-

(no beta so sorry if some grammar's weird. also no leaks please I haven't read any & I'd like for it to stay that way)

I might add a 2nd chapter to fix that mess but when will this happen? will this actually happen?? who knows certainly not me

*****

“And then I had lunch with Nino,” Adrien said. “That was nice. We hadn’t managed to eat together for at least a week.”

Ladybug smiled. “I’m glad. I can’t picture you two being separated for too long.”

“Well, we don’t really have a choice this year. He picked literature, and I picked scientific. We’re not in the same class anymore,” he shrugged with half a smile, before brightening up. “But we still see each other during the breaks!”

Adrien then launched into an explanation of the rules of the latest board game he and Nino had played during the afternoon break. He kept looking into Ladybug’s eyes all the while, delighting in the way they lit up at his enthusiasm, and taking pride in the small chuckles that escaped her lips when he retold a particularly funny joke he’d made.

Ladybug loved hearing about his day. He knew she did because she always asked about it, every day when they reunited, sitting cross-legged face-to-face on the floor. And every day, she nodded along his stories and encouraged him to tell her more.

And Adrien loved telling her about his day. It had taken some time before he allowed himself to fully recount every detail that had happened, having never really been used to talking about himself at all with his father. But unlike his father who would cut him with a stern look or – he later realised – a twist of his ring, Ladybug never seemed tired to hear him talk.

Once he finished telling her about how Tom Dupain had insisted –again– on giving him free chouquettes when he stopped by the bakery, Adrien asked: “And you, my Lady, how was your day?”

She smiled sadly, in a way he was now too familiar with, and his heart dropped. 

Of course.

“Oh. Right. You can’t tell me. I forgot.” 

Like every single day. 

He looked away from her, not wanting to see the pity nor the apology he was sure to find in her eyes. The red kwagatama on his neck suddenly felt too heavy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he knew she was. It hurt nonetheless.

“That’s okay,” he whispered back, knowing well that it very much wasn’t. Adrien was scared it never would be.

“You’re allowed to be angry at me, you know,” Ladybug said, not for the first time since he’d started meeting her in secret.

“It’s not your fault. It’s my father’s,” he spat out the word. “And I’m…” he sighed, and with it let all his energy leave his body. “Ladybug, I’m so tired of being angry at people. I can’t… I can’t be angry with you on top of it.”

It wasn’t entirely true. A small part of him was angry with her, but he knew that she was suffering from the consequences just as much if not more than he did. And he truly was exhausted of feeling angry all the time, at his father, at Nathalie, at his mother, everyone who pretended they wanted the best for him but ended up destroying themselves instead; at Félix for keeping him in the dark, at himself for being too stupid to see what had been right under his nose. The list was long enough as it was and didn’t need to include Ladybug, who was a victim of his father's power hunt just as much as he was.

“But you’re allowed to be,” Ladybug said softly.

He felt a tear prickling at the corner of his eye.

“Oh, Adrien” Ladybug breathed, and he hated himself for how sad he’d made her sound. She extended a hand towards him. “I really want to grab your hand.”

He sniffed, and whipped his stray tear away before a stream could run on his cheek. “I really want you to grab my hand, too. And kiss it.” He reached for hers back but stopped millimeters away.

Ladybug smiled shyly, and he could guess the ghost of a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I want you to kiss my hand, Chaton. I always loved when you did it.”

This time, he felt his own cheeks lit up. They got lost in each other’s eyes, hands never quite touching, lulling Adrien further into the illusion that what they were sharing now was real.

But as it always did, reality found a way to crash down on him like the cold in the night right before dawn. Except unlike dawn that promised warmth and light, Adrien’s world stayed cold and dark as his phone rang. He glared at the traitorous device until he saw the name of the caller.

“Who is it?” Ladybug asked.

Adrien smiled bitterly. “Marinette.”

“Oh. Um…” Ladybug wriggled awkwardly. “Are you going to answer her?”

Adrien wasn’t sure he felt strong enough for that. But he had promised her and himself that he’d be there for her, no matter what. 

So he took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Sniffles greeted him on the other side, and he instantly felt bad for guiltily spending time with Ladybug when he could have been supporting her.

“He made me another strawberry tartlet. Tom– I mean, my dad. He…he told me again how much ‘she’ used to love them. He told me again how ‘she’d’ always steal some from the bakery counter as a kid. He thinks because ‘she’ loved strawberries that I would too.” Marinette let out a sob. “Well, you know what? I don’t love strawberries. I’m tired of strawberry tartlets. They’re fine, but they’re not my favourites, they’re her favourites. And I’m so sick of pretending they are to not hurt him.”

Adrien listened as she caught her breath, feeling at a loss for words.

“I loved my dad’s strawberry tartlets,” Ladybug interrupted sadly. “It reminded me of the picnics we shared on holidays in the countryside when I was a kid. We’d always eat some by the river.”

Adrien nodded in acknowledgement. It made sense that Marinette couldn’t understand what made this pastry so special.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette,” he whispered so quietly he wasn’t sure she heard him. 

“Everyone…everyone expects me to be just like her and I keep disappointing them because I can’t satisfy the expectations they have of me,” Marinette choked. “They want me to like sewing, they want me to wear pink… I can’t with pink anymore, all my bedroom walls are pink, everywhere I look there’s pink, it’s too much! I feel like… I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against tears that were threatening to take over him. She sounded so broken. He knew she was, of course he did, but he hadn’t realised how much she’d been holding in all this time. How much she’d been pretending for their sake – and as someone who’d mastered the skill for most of his life, he couldn’t let her suffer from it. 

And holding onto her ghost that he wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet wasn’t going to help her. It wasn’t fair to either of them. He knew all too well how to grieve someone he’d lost. But how did he grieve for someone who was still there?

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to get his voice under control. “I’m coming over, okay Marinette ? And then, I’m taking you to the store.”

Ladybug nodded in encouragement.

“And…and you’ll pick whatever colour you like. And I’ll… I’ll help you repaint your room with it, okay? How does that sound?”

Marinette sniffled. “Any colour I want? What if it’s something she hated?”

Adrien’s voice quivered. “What matters is what you want. I think she’d…I think she’d want you to feel good.” Ladybug smiled softly, nodding. “I want you to feel good.”

“Thank you, Adrien,” Marinette whispered. “I really…I really appreciate it. I’ll get ready,” and she hung up.

Adrien stared at his phone silently for a long time, before snapping his gaze back at Ladybug. 

“My Lady, I’m so–”

“Don’t,” she lifted a finger that went through his lips. “Don’t apologise. Especially not if it’s to take care of me,” she smiled. “Thank you for that. I really admire you, you know.”

“I really admire you too,” he said quietly.

“You should tell her that,” she replied. “She’d appreciate it.”

“I will,” he vowed.

He didn’t want to leave Ladybug just yet. But he knew it wasn’t reasonable to drag this on, and Plagg or Tikki would be coming back soon anyways. He really didn’t need to go through another lecture of how him meeting Ladybug hurt him more than it did him good, and that Marinette hadn’t given him her kwagatama for that.

Adrien spared one last glance at Ladybug, took a deep breath, and let his eyes flutter shut.

“End of reunion,” he whispered.

When he opened his eyes again, he was alone in the quiet of the room.

[finnitesimal]

Since we fully in a pissa drought- what’s your favorite pissa moment or what made you enjoy the ship? Or maybe just talk in general why you adore the ship so much.

The first adoption day was an experience I only got to it because I heard "philza minecraft got egged" and I came running. Mistake #1

It was a breakthrough in the cphilza community Ive been told. Slowly but surely gaining guys to not fall into the dadza trope and suddenly we're getting a New Govt-assigned Husband. To flirt with for three hours and become irrevocably obsessed with since

It's Missa's pov where I started spiraling I started going WHO IS THIS GUY and looked up his vod and

You know it. It was the falling-in-love-with-missasinfonia that got me. Their vibe together was genuinely so sweet and adorable I started staying up to watch the streams live. I was not a philza watcher until missa came along. It's that one post about the hispanic players only being brought up for their ships but the other way round sorry bird man but I like your husband more

Thinking of it as romantic before I watched any of it is probably why every moment of them hit hard those first few weeks. I've already assigned "ahaha gay" in sparkly lights above them Before I started hearing "darling" "partner" "querido" and it just kept escalating with every stream "I'm taken for/I'm so happy with my partner"painting Phil's portrait "let's break the springs [of the bed]", taking him aside to craft missa armor, "I've been alone, so very alone" and then Missa was leaving for a week (<- wasn't a week. It was not one week. ) and I'd already resolved myself to wait for him like a dog at the door

I can't give you a Favorite moment because I'm scarfing up these scraps with my hands they're all delicious tasty oneshotkills me you understand. It'd probably be one of the times phil expresses his usually repressed feelings/attraction ("so did you get me anything?"/the bike clutch "you're looking awfully bare"/"Im not missing missa I don't want to talk about it")

I like that they're both cute and soft mutual pining and unwavering trust and loyalty and also just. Freakish about all of it. Phil hearing that he has to "choose" and dyeing his answer into the weight that lets him move normally. Missa initially wanting Phil's head as his backpack decal. Phil fixated on him at every opportunity. Missa's almost religious devotion/creep behavior. The jealousy the gifts the overdependence. Phil still hasn't touched that first house they built together.

They're my little guys I want them to never kiss or express their feelings I want them to stay weird about each other always

[thebroccolination]

So, I had a tiny epiphany tonight.

I have divorced parents with diametrically opposed approaches to maintaining relationships with their children. My father is self-absorbed, manipulative, and insecure to the degree that even though he's intelligent, funny, and interesting, all three of his adult children believe our lives are better without him. My mother, on the other hand, has never been on the outs with any of us.

I didn't want to travel back to the States for the holidays this year, because 1) it's expensive, and 2) it's always, always emotionally exhausting in some way. I was fully prepared to spend it alone or with friends, but my mother came to Ireland to spend Christmas and New Year's with me.

Then I broke my foot. But that's another story.

Anyway, tonight we were having dinner, and I showed her the newly revised pitch for the book I'm writing. She doesn't dislike fantasy, but she's more of a romance gal, so my whole motivation in showing her was more of a, "Look, Mommy, I made a drawing for the fridge," kind of thing rather than a, "Here is a book you would choose and then tell your friends about," thing.

And as casual as can be, the way she has done since I was a child, she supported me.

She said she can feel it, that this upcoming year will be the year Big Things happen, and she said, "You're gonna write the movie screenplay for your book, and I'm gonna come to the premiere."

She's always been like this.

Once, when I was in high school, I was lying on my back near her desk and I said, "Remember that short story I wrote in first grade about the wolf who eats the hunter?"

She said, "I certainly do," and opened her desk's bottom drawer, took out a manila folder, and handed the looseleaf papers to me.

I've always felt humbled by her belief in me. Possibly because my father seems to see all of his children as extensions of himself, so his emotional support is forever conditional. Hers is just…always there. Unfailing, unquestioning.

And I've apologized to my mother over and over throughout the years for not succeeding more. For not making more of the support she's given me. She always seems so confused by my guilt.

Then I realized, maybe for the first time, that her love and support aren't only not conditional, they're just…easy for her. She isn't trying to be supportive. It isn't work or effort for her to believe in her children and to tell us.

Tonight, she rattled off a stream of compliments, confident in my future in a way that I've never felt, and for once, I wasn't focused on myself, but on her. And rather than apologize to her yet again, or internally punish myself for getting praise that I don't feel like I deserve, I actually absorbed it.

I'm in my mid-thirties now, and I'm still finding all the ways my father wore down my heartstrings and tangled my brainstem. And who knows, maybe some of this insecurity didn't come from him. Life is complicated, and it can be too easy to blame everything on a bad parent.

The epiphany I had is that even when I'm complimenting my mother for not being like my father, I'm still centering him instead of her.

And that's why I want to focus more actively and more often on the good my mother has done for me. Because her words have shaped some of my favorite things about myself.

When I was four, I stood up to some classmates when they made fun of a friend for crying, and when I told my mother about it later, she said offhandedly but proudly, "You have such a strong sense of justice," and so protecting others became one of my core values. Very literally in that moment. I'd never thought of myself as someone who could protect anyone until she said it was so.

She has built the scaffolding of my life in so many ways, and I'm going to appreciate that more.

And tell her that I'm proud of her, too.

[teyamsatan]

The Archer | Chapter VIII: Bigger Than The Whole Sky

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

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

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 11,5k words

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

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

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

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

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

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

“Where are your sisters?”

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

“YOUR SISTERS, WHERE ARE THEY?” 

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go get our daughters.”

“You stay with your brother.”

“No, dad, I want to go with you.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“No, dad…”

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

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

“Neteyam, wait uuup!”

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

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

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

“You caught me.” 

“Woah! What is this place?” 

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

“It’s heaven!!” 

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

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

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

“So, maybe Heaven is where Eywa is?”

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

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

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

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

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

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

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

Kalin? Brother? 

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

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

“What’s feminism?”

“What do I know? I’m six.”

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

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

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

“DADDY! YOU’RE HERE!” 

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

“WE MISSED YOU, DAD!” 

No. No. No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

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

“Parultsyìp! (Children!)” 

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

“Neteyam?”

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

“Atan!” 

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan.”

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

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

“Tell me what to do.”

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

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

“I did it!” 

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

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

“Neteyam, stop.” 

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

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

“Neteyam, why are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“No… it can’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Kids… Our kids… you saw our kids?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is happening?” 

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

“Atan, what is happening?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I think you have, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s alright, you’re ok. We’re ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he…?” 

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

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

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

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

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

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

“How long have I been out?”

“About a day?” 

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

“How is he?”

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

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

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

“He’s in a hypoxic-ischaemic coma.” 

“W-what does that mean?” 

You gulped loudly before you answered Jake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So these are our kids, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Atan… that is her name.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you'll be drowned

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

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

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

“How is he?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say that. He’ll wake up.” 

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

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

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

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

“Did Jake and Neytiri go get my dad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go, kid. We can clean him up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You started it.” 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But his body is still.”

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s awake. She’s awake.” 

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

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

“You… You passed out, kid.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey… you had a miscarriage.” 

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

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

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

[zsakuva]

Hello! My name is Grim, and I fancy myself a bit of a researcher. Now, this is not for anything important or extremely serious. Instead, this is mostly for my own pure enjoyment and something I have in the works that is to be posted on Tumblr. You are not obligated to answer any or all of these questions I have posed. I know it’s a bit much. Take your time, but don’t feel obligated to do anything. Feel free to add any additional input! Thanks for your consideration!

1. How different do you think your work would be, in terms of getting across a point, in a different medium thats not Audio RP?

2. How do you think your work would be different if it more reflected main stream industry forms of storytelling where you as a creator would be more separate? (ex. movies, tv shows, games, etc.)

3. How important do you find the voice acting in your work?

4. You are the primary voice of your works. Would you consider taking a step back from voice acting in your work to focus on narrative work?

5. Do you believe your own individual ability to voice characters enhances the story overall?

6. Do you enjoy the idea of a “Listener character” or would you better prefer to not have one?

7. As a writer, how does the writing of the Listener take you out of your comfort zone? (ie their effect in relationships, plot movements, etc.)

8. Is Audio RP your favored form of art?

9. How do you believe Audio RP differs from main stream forms of art/entertainment?

10. Do you believe that your work has over arching themes that relate to you personally? (very optional)

Hello, and thank you for the questions!

How different do you think your work would be, in terms of getting across a point, in a different medium that's not Audio RP?

If I were to create similar storylines in another medium, I think my work would be very different. The major element that all my stories are based around is the Listener. Everything is crafted from their perspective, so I need to always keep this in mind when scripting and editing. The best ways to handle the narrative and dialogue are through implications with other characters and SFX; to keep audios sounding as authentic as possible, this must always be considered when I work. Much of it is filled with the Listener's imagination, but to convey a point with only audio cues can be a difficult task.

2. How do you think your work would be different if it more reflected main stream industry forms of storytelling where you as a creator would be more separate? (ex. movies, tv shows, games, etc.)

I'd allow the story to breathe and marinate due to the platform it's on and the medium the story is told in.

The genre of audio RP, especially on YouTube is already limited because creators are told that in order to keep an audience, we must hook them within the first 10-30 seconds. Due to this, we develop our audios with that in mind; it can come as a detriment to our creativity and desire to show a story in a particular way. We're confined by parameters that value immediate views and responses in order for our creations to be deemed successful, and when many use YouTube as their primary source of income, this manner of thinking can become the norm. In order to stay relevant, we must research what's trendy, what tropes are no longer popular, and though it's not necessary, online demand can change on a dime. Exploring different topics and themes are also limited due to this; creators must work within the platform's restrictions, and that has impeded many stories with how deep I can dive and what it could've become.

As a visual medium—particularly movies and TV shows—my stories would be far better. Viewers can perceive them the way I want them to and with far more understanding. Although SFX and a wonderful soundscape can teleport consumers to another place, the nuances that I love and appreciate slip through the cracks. On a larger scale, visualising the settings, fashions, and people can elevate a story as it gives a plainer context everyone can draw from. On a smaller scale, facial expressions and body language are paramount for communication, something that audio RP cannot do.

An example of this would be my newest series, The Noble Trials. It's a high fantasy world which, in itself, is difficult to show because in that kind of setting, anything goes. I want the audience to experience the extravagant events, the opulent locations, the embellished fashion. Of course, as I depend heavily on sound design, I have faith in the listeners to imagine that for themselves, but they'll never imagine it the way I do. The only option is to write it through dialogue, and sometimes, this can feel unnatural. I'm one to sprinkle in details, so if I decide to create a new fantasy creature, I must show it through SFX and characters describing it. That's not to say it can't be done, but that requires more time and effort; it depends on if a creator is willing to go the extra mile for a little more immersion.

3. How important do you find the voice acting in your work?

I find it extremely important! If I want my audience to be transported, then all elements of the story must be convincing, and the character I voice is no exception. Voice acting is the primary driver of it all; though dialogue can certainly tell the audience something, the way it's expressed is vital to adding a layer of realism. As I can't rely on faces and movement to show a particular feeling, it must be emoted through speech, and that can elevate a story to the next level.

4. You are the primary voice of your works. Would you consider taking a step back from voice acting in your work to focus on narrative work?

I've thought about it but I don't believe it to be a possibility. Most of my community listen to my works because I'm voicing the characters, so it's something I must continue doing. However, writing is my strength and passion. It gives me true joy, so if I was guaranteed my career would be retained and someone else voiced the main character, I would consider it. At this point however, it's not an option.

5. Do you believe your own individual ability to voice characters enhances the story overall?

Though I'd say I'm okay at what I do in terms of voice acting, I know there are others that are far better than I am, and I believe they could take my stories much further. My projects are made with audio dramas in mind, so I think that someone more skilled in voice acting could easily transform a character of mine.

Also, my vocal range is pretty good, but voicing all characters (I've created 18 so far with many more to come) is very difficult. Although the audience know it's one man behind all these characters, as a creator I'm compelled to separate everyone so they don't sound similar. Of course, it's impossible to take note of every modulation the voice makes and consistently use certain intonations where necessary, but there will always be similarities between the characters which, to me, hurts the story if the voice is comparable to another and the audience notice. It makes me want to develop my acting more, but it's quite saddening despite what I must do to make characters sound different (pitch, accent, tone, etc). In this case, I am my own limitation.

6. Do you enjoy the idea of a “Listener character” or would you better prefer to not have one?

The short answer is no, I do not enjoy the idea of a Listener character. As a writer, it limits what a story can convey.

In the beginning, it was a great challenge because I could experiment with how to tell stories through the perspective of someone who doesn't talk. It allowed me to develop different means of showing a narrative through SFX and one-sided dialogue, and to understand the limitations and liberties I could make. However, there's a massive downside: everyone is different. Some creators like the Listener being a blank slate for the audience to fill, and that's absolutely fine; I started out like this too!

But as I sank deeper into adding dimension and story to my characters, I realised that I needed to do the same for the Listeners. They need personality, and desires, and struggles that will inevitably clash with other characters. A blank slate cannot drive a story, nor can they transform it in any way because there's nothing to challenge or change. For my stories, the Listener's personality and interests must have something of substance in order to interact with characters.

However, this also proves to be inconvenient because the audience may not be able to relate. Some listeners like to insert themselves into an audio while others enjoy it from a third-person perspective. Those who listen in the former way can have difficulties with what the Listeners do because it's a stark contrast to who they are, and that can break immersion. Additionally, they can develop characteristics about the Listener depending on their own beliefs of them—by their own reflection or other means.

The most recent example would be Alex's series. Tl;dr of the story: Alex and Gremlin (the Listener's petname) have been together for four years. One day, Gremlin accused Alex of cheating, they were wrong, tensions arose, both were stupid, they broke up, and Gremlin left to who knows where. The latest episode is a dream sequence that explores Gremlin's thoughts about what happened, what they think of themselves, and it reveals other questionable things they've done. As a character, Gremlin suffers from trauma, and this drives them to act in unfavourable ways similarly to Alex. The purpose of this audio was to show that Gremlin is not as good as they seem. Everyone is flawed, and I make sure my characters are no different. But many listeners likely can't imagine themselves screaming accusations at their long-time partner, stalking them, and living with crippling trust issues and anxiety; therefore, in their mind, that doesn't happen in the audio.

If the Listener character was voiced, I think their views would be different, but this is the main factor: No matter how detailed I am, the audience will never see the Listener the way I do. And as I want to write narratives in a specific way to convey a specific idea, that can get lost in translation. That means a Listener character must be predetermined in order to write a compelling story and explore themes and situations I can't do with a blank slate.

7. As a writer, how does the writing of the Listener take you out of your comfort zone? (ie their effect in relationships, plot movements, etc.)

Having been doing this for a few years, I think I have a comfortable grasp on how to write Listener characters. The main challenge is natural dialogue between them and other characters, as well as staying true to the personality I've given them. Different Listener characters would notice or mention certain things depending on who they are, and I must always keep that in mind. But for the most part, it's pretty enjoyable!

8. Is Audio RP your favored form of art?

Absolutely not. My favoured form of art has always been audio-visual in nature because that's what I respond best to. Films and TV shows are where my heart truly lies, but expressing myself through this medium is a privilege I cannot take for granted. It can evoke just as much emotion as other arts, and I find that amazing. Although I love watching things, storytelling keeps me sane, and I always have something to share or create. Audio RP gives me the opportunity to challenge my ideas, expand my knowledge, experiment with characters, and develop other skills such as audio engineering (which I love). But most of all, it lets me offer my stories to the world, and I'm so happy I'm able to do so.

9. How do you believe Audio RP differs from main stream forms of art/entertainment?

It's an interesting art form in its own right because although there are certain elements of story set in stone, for the most part it's personalised. Drawing from the way I create audios, the audience—even if they aren't projecting themselves onto them—is experiencing a story through the Listener. It's a limited perspective, and the only things that belong to the consumer are their thoughts, though it might not necessarily be canon to the plot. Most narratives are told through a camera, and what the viewer sees is carefully crafted for the purpose of the story. However, as Audio RP is told from a second-person POV, curating an experience is far more immersive, and I think there is still room to innovate with this medium!

10. Do you believe that your work has over arching themes that relate to you personally?

Without a doubt! Many characters share parts of me, whether that be likes, dislikes, ideologies, experiences, or even direct memories. It's easy to use yourself or people you know as a basis for characters, then build upon that to make them their own individual with their own journey.

Niall is the best example of this. At school, he was closeted but was outed against his will and bullied for being gay, and his crush (the Listener) at the time stood by and watched it happen. In the present timeline, Niall is a creative with a job that keeps him occupied, but those traumas shaped him into who he is: a socially awkward and wary man without love for the part of him he refuses to show. His fears of trust and making friends governed him, but above it all, he was afraid to accept who he is. His story explores that deep fracture: navigating what it means to forgive, changing a once rigid and cold outlook on the world, and in the end, permitting a chance for healing and closure, and realising that living without love is no way to live.

Though I didn't experience most of what he did, writing Niall was a way for me to also have hope in similar thoughts that I carry. It was somewhat therapeutic—more-so knowing that his story resonated with other people and helped them find some form of catharsis.

Thank you so much for these questions! I'm so sorry I wrote so much omg

[lindentea]

a Dyke-nonychus for Pride month! Baltimore Pride is tomorrow and i'm excited! it's my first Pride since coming out as a lesbian and i'm PUMPED.

(a longer-than-i-thought-it-would-be ramble about identity follows!)

i'd been out as bi for something like 25+ years (i just turned 40 three weeks ago). i thought that since i'm not a †3®ƒ and i'm attracted to women and nonbinary ppl no matter their hardware, and since i'm transmasc/genderqueer myself, that it fully excluded me from being able to call myself a lesbian. i've heard and internalized some really cruel takes (mostly on leftbook, ugh) from tankies screaming that no one can be a lesbian unless they strictly identify as a woman in a very binaristic sense, are only attracted to women also in a binaristic sense, and only use she/her pronouns.

what a crock of shit, amirite??

comphet got me real bad, too. i'd been partnered with an uninterrupted stream of men since i was 15 (also dated women/nb ppl during that time, polycules, yadda yadda). i was married to a man for almost a decade, then only a handful of months after we split up, i jumped straight into another almost-decade-long relationship with a man (lovebombing is one helluva drug). i'm still friends with my ex-husband but that latter partner was horrendously abµs¡ve and thank fuckin' Satan i'm no longer with him.

up until i escaped The Arsehole, the longest amount of time that i wasn't in any kind of relationship with a man (whether romantic or just a hookup) was only a couple months at most. the societal pressure to never say "no" to a man is crushing. to always seek validation from men, because if men don't find me attractive then i have failed at life. the pressure when identifying as bi and internalizing the message of "but if you're bi, why don't you want to date men? if you're really bi, you shouldn't exclude any gender(s) from your dating pool."

...and then i spent an entire year without having any sort of relationship with a man. and hooooooo-lee shit, y'all...!! i had an existential crisis that was.. honestly...? set off by Tracy Chapman's performance at the Grammys. i made a whole 3-hour long Spotify playlist of as many songs as i could think of that had made me feel the gayest. (the playlist is fuckin' siiiiiiiiick, if i may say so myself. but i'm sorry to non-paying Spotify folks, since i prefer to craft playlists meant to be listened to in a specific order. still slaps on random, tho.)

i spilled my guts to a few trusted friends (as well as my lovely nb partner), and i in a conversation with one of my closest friends (whomst, in the past, i'd had multiple deep-dive conversations about our identities as bi) i said, "so like... if i'm nonbinary... and i'm only attracted to women and nonbinary ppl who identify more with that 'end' of the timey-timey gendery-wendery gender spectrum...." and she told me, "Linden... Linden. that is literally in the definition of lesbian." and... that was that, then.

ANYHOW, i could go on and on, but..... uhhhhh HERE, HAVE A CUTE DINOSAUR! happy Pride!!

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

OC in 15

tagged by: @space-writes ! Thank you!

tagging: Open Tag as well as soft tagging @enchanted-lightning-aes | @friendlyneighborhood-writer | @wherearetheplants | @oh-no-another-idea | @bloodlessheirbyjacques | @italiangothicwriteblr | @lyralit | @did-i-do-this-write | @circa-specturgia | @rose-bookblood | @memento-morri-writes |

rules: share 15 lines of dialogue that capture the vibes of your oc!

I'm doing my autistic son Raven because he's my favorite child (and I have the most actually written for him 😅)

"I'd protect you even if it wasn't my job."

“How many times have I told you that you need to be more careful with sharp things, princess?”

 “I agree that they [Sapphire's parents] are a little much, but if I don’t do my job and get you back before they realize you’re gone, they will quite literally kill me. And I would prefer to keep my head attached to my body.”

Raven’s head whipped between the bandits now barreling towards them, and the princess. “Did you do that on purpose?” / She grinned smugly and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I need to get out of here,” He gasped, “Can-... Can we go somewhere else, please? Somewhere that’s not so-” He squeezed his eyes shut. “...Loud?”

“I can braid hair,” He said, “I’ve mentioned before I have sisters, you think I never braided their hair?”

She shifted, turning so her back was to him. “Alright. Do your worst.” / He gently pulled her long auburn locks out of its braid, softly detangling them. “I intend to do my best, actually.”

“What about this: if you promise to be a little more careful and not put yourself in danger, I’ll-“ his face twisted in confusion and concentration for a second. “I’ll… breathe down your neck less…” He blinked, running a hand through his soft, dark brown waves. “Is that what you meant? That’s what you meant, right?” [my sweet autistic son, i love you]

"I think kidnapping someone to be their slave over a stream is more rude than what I said."

"Do you think I got all of them?" / Raven nodded to the glittery carnage in her wake. "Uh, yes, I think you did." He rubbed his sore wrists, then gestured cautiously to his sword. "Can I... have my sword back please?"

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t become my bodyguard?”  / “Sometimes-” Sapphire’s face fell and he quickly added. “-but other times I wouldn’t change it for the world. You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met, but… also the most happy and excited to live. I haven’t known a lot of people that were excited to just live.”

[Raven] “You’re kind of ruining my rescue plan.” / [Sapphire] “Oh, I’m ruining your plan? You’re the one ruining my escape plan-”

“I will always come for you, you understand?” He told her. His voice cracked as he choked on tears, but he couldn’t have cared less. “I will always come for you, no matter how long it takes. And if you ever end up in that awful place again, I’ll bust down those dark gates myself. You’re never going back there if I have anything to say about it.”

“What if it weren’t murder though? What if it were… an unfortunate accident? We need the life essence for the spell don’t we? And the animals we’re killing for food clearly aren’t going to make enough for the spell.” He leaned on his wagon where his princess was fast asleep under her curse. “I’m just saying-”

“No. Well-” Raven bit his lip as he watched her sleep on his shoulder. “She never got them before. After rescuing her from the sleeping curse… she gets them every night now." ... "She’s not scared of anything, ma. Or… she wasn’t… until…”

[bagopucks]

C. Caufield - Reality

✄————————————

Cole Caufield x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 669

Warning(s): Mentions of cheating. Reader being the cheater???

Would definitely suggest listening to this song. It’s soo good! It’s called Reality from the musical 36 Questions!

—————————————

I have to leave you behind

I know that sounds harsh

But that's the reality

Cole held the last of her belongings in his arms, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he prepared to give up the last pieces of her he had left. Her scent filled his senses, only doubling the heartbreak.

I wish we had our old life

But that shit's impossible

That's just reality

How had it all fallen apart so quickly? Lies upon lies piled up. Infidelity and mistreatment. She had been caught. Cole found out the hard way. He should have known she was too good for him, but he knew one thing for certain. He didn’t deserve what happened.

I should have told you the minute you came

But you sounded distraught standing out in the rain

And I wanted to let you in, swallow your pain

Because that's what I always do

The blonde had not been prepared to open his front door to the sight of his ex sobbing. Was she manipulating him? Or maybe she was serious? Cole tried not to give in, handing the box over and doing his best to see through the tears. Could he forgive her? How easy would it be to just let her in?

“Please take me back, Cole.”

But I made a pact with my moms

Under no circumstance

Should I hear out Natalie

Unlike you I keep my word

The simple mental reminder of another man sexting his girlfriend brought back Cole’s resentment for the woman. His heart hardened at the sight of her tears. She didn’t deserve to cry. And the easy way wasn’t always the right way. She didn’t love him.

And promises I make become my reality

“I just can’t.”

You like to live your life blurring the lines

Bending the rules to make yourself look better

But all that I wanted was something concrete

And to know for a fact you are real

The breakup was messy, and it would forever affect Cole’s trust. How could she expect him to ever want to rebuild what they had? How could she stand there and beg him to come back? It took guts, the same guts it took to cheat for months and keep it a secret. Why did she even stay with him if she was no longer invested?

What I know is

I still love you

That's my reality

Cole would never tell her how he truly felt. Betrayed and brokenhearted. He felt dejected and useless. How had he not been good enough? Why was it so hard to simply hate her? He had so many questions, and yet he knew if he asked them, he’d give her too many chances to apologize. Too many chances to change his mind.

You know

I'd give anything to wake up with you next to me

You and I spent two years of our lives lost in your lies

Far from reality

And it felt like a dream

'Cause it was

Cole constantly asked himself how he’d missed the changes. The odd behaviors. He was too blinded by the love. Too distracted by trying to romance her in every way, without realizing she had stopped trying halfway through. He’d been so stupid to trust her.

Why do I always give in?

That is on me to change

That's my reality

He felt his heart sink as he shut the door in the woman’s face. He had to stop finding excuses for her to come over. That was the last of her things. No more contact. No more seeing her. Cole sank against the wall, falling to the floor with a thud. A loud sob wracked his chest.

I can't do this to myself again

I deserve someone who accepts reality

I can't imagine rebuilding my life with you

Constantly on the edge of what I know is true

And you would string me along like you always do

Knowing I will never let go

He had to let her go.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[da-mous]

Every day, from the day he arrived to the day I escaped, I hid in my room from the monster who lived in my house. The monster my mom seemed to love more than her daughter

If I stayed out of sight, maybe he would forget about me, and he wouldn't come charging up the stairs to pull open my skull and scream into it again

Sometimes I was right for a month. Sometimes it was only an hour. But he would always come again. Charging up the stairs without warning, tearing open my skull, screaming into me. Jets of blood from his throat leaking into my brain, pooling inside my skull while I apologized profusely for deserving it yet again. Sometimes he screamed about one mistake I'd made. Sometimes it was every mistake I'd made since he came here. Sometimes he screamed about how his father would come home every day when he was a pup and tear into him with his gigantic teeth. But it was always my fault.

I should have just been grateful it wasn't as bad as being cut open by an even bigger monster's teeth every day

As my body grew away from me, as my friendships started lasting shorter and shorter, as I started to lose hope I could ever stop deserving this, I found more and more patches of his white fur growing on my body. Whatever I couldn't hide under my clothes I'd tear out of my skin. It hurt like hell, but monsters deserve to hurt

Even after I became an adult and escaped, I could still feel his blood coursing through my body, through my head, through my heart. I felt strong every time I tore out his fur. As the years passed it would take root more firmly in my skin, and so when I tore it out it would take patches of my skin with it, and his blood would pour out of my body in red streams. It was soothing to watch and it hurt like fucking hell and it was what a monster deserved

I spent years in isolation, keeping my distance from good people. I regularly tore out his fur, watching his irredeemable blood leave my body, until I was sure I was a good person too. Then I went out to find new people to bring into my life, to cherish and to thrive with. They wouldn't leave like all my friends did growing up. The monster had finally left my body

I made a home with some amazing, gentle, forgiving people. It went well, and it was everything I ever wanted. Until his fur started growing in faster and stronger. Every time I was told I had made a mistake, I would tear out some of his fur and show them his blood leaving my body, showing them I wasn't like him. Please. I'm not like him. I'm not him. This is all I've ever wanted. Please!!

His claws started to replace my fingernails, and I used them to hold my loved ones as close as I could

I learned to hide myself away in my room, to protect them from the monster, but when I did see them again I would dig his claws in deeper, holding them there with me. They didn't tell me I was turning into a monster. I already knew

I cursed him out. I tore and tore at his fur, finding more and more catharsis in showing myself, showing everyone, that I wasn't an unforgivable monster like he was

Until they finally left for good.

I sat, curled into a monstrous ball among the shattered glass of my mirror, the apologies I never got to make echoing through my empty home. They finally left because I'm a monster, because I'm just like him. Just as terrifying, just as evil, just as unforgivable. The absence of their forgiveness echoed louder off the barren walls than my apologies to them

Just barely visible in a small shard of the mirror was a little monster, curled into a ball, sobbing to herself. Terrified, because she'll never see her loved ones again. Or because she's just a kid, who will never be ready for the next time he comes charging up those stairs. Or... because his father hated him. Because he had no power to avoid being crushed between his own father's massive teeth. Because surely all he needed to feel secure, safe from those teeth, was control. However he had to get it. By screaming a child into submission or by digging his claws into his terrified partner's flesh

He... I mean I... I mean we, looked so small, so alone in this little shard. I tried to reach out to us, but my claws just dripped my loved ones' blood onto their image. There, in the shard, was my monstrous face, among droplets of the blood of the ones I held closest. My face, surrounded by my white fur. Vulnerable, afraid, alone all over again

I wrapped my patchy, bleeding, furry arms around myself in a hug, and so did the crying little monster in the shard. And as I did, my claws retracted. I hadn't known they could do that...

I held myself close, and thus I held him close too

"I forgive you"

[inthelittlewood]

Any plans after Rats SMP ends? Solo content? Find a new SMP?

I've been getting this question a lot since the Rats end was confirmed and it's very reassuring that I've put my best foot forward this past month or two (I'm glad you've enjoyed it all!)

Currently I've no plans. That's the honest truth.

Rats episodes will likely see the YouTube channel through to mid January and streams should last until early Jan, at a guess

But then, it's a big unknown...

The next Life series has no date but Grian has said 2023, that can be as short lived as 6 weeks so that's more of a flash in the pan project than a proper SMP

I don't have another SMP to transition to (and I stress this every time, PLEASE DON'T pester people in existent SMPs to add me. That won't achieve anything and will likely only put them off the idea entirely)

I'd love to make some content themed around Blockbench and coding. It will be January after all, it's almost tradition at this point that I go on a development binge haha

Those videos wouldn't be tutorials but more 'making your comments in Minecraft' type ones instead

As for episodical / long form content, I'm clueless. I'll have to do some research over the holidays and see what others are up to to try and draw inspiration then calve a niche so I stand out

Vault Hunters? Too grindy from what I've seen / been told

Hardcore World? Unless I'm missing something, are these literally just single player world series people do and there's the risk I lose everything (no thanks!)

I've done some build homework recently for Fwhip and Sausage. Those were really fun exercises and something I'm going to keep up with because historically I've always had minimalist / ugly bases and I certainly feel behind my peers on that skillset, so I need to brush up!

The truth of it is.. The Rats SMP is perfect for me. A little building (leaning in to pixel art which is my only slight artistic capability), a unique environment to explore, unfamiliar dangers, plenty of room for light roleplay and improv comedy, all wrapped up with a light overarching narrative. It's now my favourite MC experience ever (yes, even moreso than the ADVENTure)

So there you have it. I'm reinvigorated and more in love with Minecraft than ever before but have absolutely no clue how to apply myself!!

I plan to do a community post on YouTube and vet my chat / discord on content preferences as we have to remember, this is a job at the end of the day. Gotta please the people, but I certainly won't be making videos for the sake of making them. They won't have that same spark if I do.

If you've any thoughts, comment away 👋

[graphicabyss]

War and Alienation

There are many terrible things war brings into your life. There's death and destruction. There's the uncertainty and constant anxiety. There's the worry for your loved ones fighting. There's deteriorating physical and mental health. There's also the deep down guilt that many out there are suffering way more than you are. But one thing you don't see coming is the alienation from the outside world.

I like being in international public spaces like streams but it also often produces mixed feelings. On the one hand, it gives me the sorely lacking sense of normalcy. But on the other, it often makes me feel even lonelier than I am.

I am not that different from the First World people there. I speak the same language, I like the same games, I repost the same memes. And yet, I feel there's a deep abyss separating me from them.

And it's not just being unable to participate in the money-giving rituals when you have none to spare. In fact, even if I had more money right now, I would not direct it to foreign artists, no matter how much I appreciate them. I would direct it towards buying more drones or to some of the countless local charities.

It's sometimes hard listening to people complain about random shit like food or having too many games to play. And of course I know everyone's struggles are valid. But it's just hard to keep myself from commenting "You haven't had a good sleep because of your cat, ay? Well, I had a 6-hour drone attack on my city so that makes two of us lol." I know it wouldn't be good for anyone so I usually just hold back. And I, like other Ukrainians, often try to frame it in a comical or sarcastic way but it doesn't seem to help.

I am constantly torn between just chilling with the guys and screaming about the terrible shit that is happening. And it's hard enough on a quiet day, much harder when you have to step away from the stream because there are missiles flying your way. When you try to mention shit like that, it makes people uncomfortable. They usually just freeze and say nothing. It's too awkward, too unpleasant and they probably are afraid to say the wrong thing. So you only end up feeling bad for achieving nothing but dampening someone's mood. But it adds to the feeling of alienation. Ben told me I shouldn't worry about ruining the mood, which I am very grateful for. But I will definitely always worry about it. I don't want to be that person who comes and ruins the atmosphere. I don't want to be the 'war girl'.

And yet, I want people to care about us, just a little bit. To remember us and the shit we go through every day. To realize how lucky they are that they don't have to deal with war on top of money, job and family problems.

Nobody wants to hear about the war. People in the West are tired of it. And I get that. I can't really blame them. I'd love to just turn off the news and not know any of this. But I can't. And if it's tiring to just hear about it, I'd love them to try to imaging how tiring it is living through it. After nearly 2 years, it's taken a heavy toll on us all. And this war fatigue ultimately translates to less support for Ukraine, to less military help and less hope for us to survive it and that is scary.