#i am so not at all paralyzed by the fear of the future and so just ok about this

[eurydicees]

CONGRADUATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!! (kept meaning to say this but then forgetting agdkdhdh but I just remembered. anyway ily!!!) we are recent graduated from college buds >:) ur gonna do so so so great with whatever u decide u wanna do and I’m so proud of u for making it this far!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOO 🎉🎉🎉🎉❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🎓🎓🎓🎓🎓

!!!!! YOOOOO !!!! congratulations to you as well !!!! we did so good !!!! we made it and i am so so so proud of u too !!!!!! ahhhHHH !!!! we did it for real !!! im so ok about the end of this era LOL. but ilyyyyy thank you and congrats again <3 <3 <3

[demilypyro]

Been thinking about time.

Time passing too fast, passing too slowly. Not having enough time, things taking too much time, having too much time on your hands. Wanting it to be tomorrow and yesterday. Waiting for things to happen, dreading things that are coming. The fact we only ever move forward in time makes the past just as unreachable as the future. At least I can still change my actions to come. The past is lost, but the past is what creates you, even if it doesn't need to define you.

This day ten years ago, I would have been.... in high school. Graduating by the skin of my teeth. No real plans for the future. Thought I'd go into computers. I was decent with computers.

Then my mom was paralyzed. There she was, in a wheelchair. For several months, it was like time stood still. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. Time... was precious, I realized. Anything could happen at any time. I had to make the most of the time I had.

I started going as hard as I could. At everything. Studying, working, dating, transitioning. It all had to happen at once, as fast as possible. There wasn't enough time. It was all taking too long. Every day was a blur, because I was just doing so many things every hour of every day.

Then suddenly the earth stood still. Time had stopped again. The pandemic.

Everything was closed. I couldn't work, I couldn't date, I couldn't study, and transitioning you could only rush so much... So I just... had to sit there. With all the time in the world. But time was precious. So I had to do something. Or create something to do. I was getting sick of computers anyway. I'd always wanted to try being a let's player.

One year later, I was a Twitch partner. Another year after that, I was registered self employed. Then the next year, I had to take several months off to recover from surgery... But now, four years after covid, four years into HRT, four years into streaming... I'm working out the contract for an apartment. To live on my own for the first time. Something I was starting to fear would never happen. It was just taking so much time.

Even if I could, I'm not sure I would change the past. I have regrets, everyone does, but those regrets made me who I am. And for all my regrets... I like who I've become. I've put a lot of time into it.

[headspace-hotel]

i'm...thinking about writing a book?

I mean. I feel really silly at the thought because i'm not like a scientist or anything, i'm barely at the beginning of my knowledge journey, but...being a writer was what I always wanted to do. It's what I've been doing ever since I could remember. And I'm constantly, constantly just so full of things that I want to tell the whole world. I will have a realization or idea and think, oh my god. Everyone needs to know this. But I can't tell everyone. I'm not good at talking.

I'm good at writing. But I will sit down to write a post on my silly little blog and get so overwhelmed by the SCALE of everything I want to say.

I think I've already started to write a book. I think the space for these ideas to fill is already the size of a book and it will never have any smaller of a size, and no one else will come along to write the book, and no one else CAN write the book, and IT HAS TO BE WRITTEN.

I want to write about the ways of the plants, of course. I want to teach how to transplant and how to gather seeds and the properties of keystone species...but more importantly, I want to write about how to learn the ways of the plants. I want to promote the habit of insatiable curiosity and intense observation. I want to show everyone that everything everywhere is infinitely interesting and mysterious, and if you pay attention to the plants, they will teach you.

I want to write about Symbiosis. I want to write about how we are connected to every other thing, how we have our own ecological niche as Caretakers, and our own special adaptations of curiosity and love. I want to write about how the ecosystem needs us to participate in it, not to cut ourselves off from it, and how our powerful influence on ecosystems can be for good or for bad. We are not a disease. We are a Keystone Species.

I want to discourage this Euro-centric idea that sees humans as separate, and recommend more reading from indigenous points of view that understands ecosystems better and sees humans as participants in nature, engaging in a reciprocal symbiotic relationship. I want to speak against all this talk about removing humans from half of the Earth or reducing the human population, and show other people that despair and fear make you paralyzed and powerless, but hope is powerful.

The most important and powerful thing you can do for your ecosystem is to love it. It is necessary to have hope for the future—to learn to imagine a future of restoration and renewal, and to build community with other people working toward that future.

If we don't imagine a future for our ecosystems, imagine them boldly and audaciously in ways that feel crazy and impossible, those futures will not happen. But just the act of saying, "This WILL happen. We WILL be okay." gives you the strength and energy to fight and it gives you the creativity to come up with solutions you never could have thought of before.

And I feel I have to explain, how did I end up listening to plants? And how did the teachings become so important that I had to write about them? There's this black, swallowing abyss underpinning all of who I am, some intimation of a reality so terrible the human spirit breaks beneath it. I had a mental health crisis back in 2021 where I was pulled deep into that abyss, and when I started rescuing little plants and caring for them, I was basically re-learning how to be human.

I feel like I was seeking answers to "How am I supposed to live in this world?" in the natural world because the human world of poetry and books and articles and think-pieces had utterly failed me in that regard. I had taken multiple poetry classes where I had read all the best contemporary poems, and all the poets just wrote flat, plodding, blunt descriptions of their trauma and despair. Nothing is wrong with these topics, but the worst part was how these authors didn't even take themselves seriously; they had to be detached and ironic about their own pain, like a snarky dystopian novel hero who jokes casually about the horrific reality they live in so the reader knows that this reality is normal and unremarkable to them—and even more importantly, that the hero is ironic and cool instead of responding in a vulnerable, human way.

And speaking of dystopian novels...there were a lot of those! It was like all the visions of the future I had read were dystopian. Even I had been writing a dystopian novel. But I realized that I wasn't wise enough to tell that story yet. I didn't know why at first. But then, as I was reading everything people were writing about climate change, I began to realize.

I saw a lot of patterns between the way people wrote about climate change and the tendencies of self-harm and self-defeat that gnawed inside me. Suicide was something that I had never struggled against, but I understood that suicide was only the most striking manifestation of a self-annihilating way. Sometimes you feel like by hurting yourself, you are being transgressive, exercising autonomy against an absolute, crushing reality. It doesn't have to be physical hurt; it can just be deciding no one will like you and denying yourself love, or thinking "Well, there's no use hoping for anything good to happen."

This is how people talk about climate change. They fantasize about extreme, horrific scenarios and talk as if the Earth is already dead and destroyed, and they talk about humans hatefully and as if they were a disease, and then congratulate themselves for seeing how bad it REALLY is instead of being in denial. It is easy for people to get attached to this and even get mad when someone suggests there might be hope, simply because self-harm can be very psychologically reinforcing.

It is common to call these responses "climate grief." But as I came into this very simple and quiet yet profound encounter with Nature, she had an answer to this philosophy that was perfectly gentle and placid and yet caustic enough to strip paint:

"HOW CAN YOU WISH FOR THE STRENGTH TO GRIEVE THE EARTH, WHEN YOU WERE NEVER STRONG ENOUGH TO LOVE IT?"

I realized, with a breaking heart, that I had always hated and resented my back yard and my home town, because it was an ugly place that seemed to me "Already destroyed," and my soul ached for woods and wilderness.

It had taken me 20 years to fully admit my love of nature, because I felt like there was no point in acting upon it—everything would get destroyed anyway.

I had not been brave enough to love the woods across the road, the creeks and the hills, because they were so fragile in a world that didn't respect them, they could be destroyed by some housing development at any time. So I just accepted that it was already a lost cause.

But it was time to be brave enough—not to accept despair, but to choose hope.

To grow up, first we had to become strong and get rid of silly beliefs like hope and fairness and love. But now, we have to become even stronger and start believing in those things again.

[neptuneiris]

sparks (epilogue)

Yeah, I saw sparks And I saw sparks

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 9.4k

previous part • series masterlist

sorry for the delay, I had some inconveniences, but here it is finally!

unfortunately everything has an end and the time has come for this other fic of mine that i have really loved writing

i never imagined that you would like it so much, which is the same thing i say with every single thing i write and post, i know haha, but i am really surprised how much you like my ideas and how much you support me, seriously thank you

i hope that in the future we can see more of this aemond and this reader, whom i keep in my heart. i loved this idea and i am very happy that you loved it too

i love you beautiful people, see you very soon in my next fics, thanks for all the support to sparks:)

warnings: angst, language, sexual content, smut

Never before in your life have you felt so uncomfortable being in Aemond's presence.

How did we come to this?

You ask yourself, incredulous and with sadness in your chest, as you can't even look at him.

The awkwardness lingers because you both have seen each other again after almost five long months where you knew nothing about each other, also because everything between you ended badly and it's just too much now to be here together in his car… alone.

At first when Jenna got out of the car once you got to her dorm you thought about staying in the back seats, but you knew it wouldn't make any sense, neither did Aemond say anything to you but you decided not to make this even more uncomfortable.

So you got out of the car, said goodbye to her and with your shaky legs you move to the passenger seat.

You avoid looking at him at all times as you buckle up, but the shoulder-to-shoulder approach seems too much for you and the space in the car feels small even though you've been in here before.

You both watch as Jenna enters her residence building safely and once you see her disappear through the glass doors, an awkward silence envelops you both even with his music playing in the background.

Until finally your dumb brain reacts and uncomfortably you shuffle in the seat, swallow hard as your throat feels dry and you bite your lips for a second.

Aemond tries not to look at you, but does so out of the corner of his eye, as he looks straight ahead with an expectant gaze while keeping one hand on his chin and the other on the steering wheel.

Clearly he's waiting for directions, which you don't understand in the first few seconds, feeling incredibly nervous.

"It's four blocks down, then left," you point out trying not to make your voice sound nervous.

He doesn't say anything, just understands the directions and starts the car again.

You watch the window at all times, avoiding eye contact of any kind with Aemond, who is totally focused on the road and also feels the same way as you, where neither of you knows what to say.

And now you are both here, again with that silence between the two of you and that heavy tension in the air that makes you both feel uncomfortable, since not even the music helps. Neither of you speaks for as long as the drive lasts.

So it's easier for both of you to just keep quiet and wait for this to be over.

You on your side also experience a mixture of intense emotions. You want to talk to him, you really want to try, you even want to offer him your condolences for his father's death, but you can't find the right words to speak and the worry that you will make things worse keeps you silent.

Aemond on the one hand wants to break the ice and find a way to try to talk to you, but the uncertainty and fear of rejection paralyze him.

It's very difficult, he can't, he doesn't feel capable and all he feels is that sharp pain in his chest.

Not to mention the incredible nerves you feel all over your body.

As the ride continues, you watch in the distance as some lightning flashes in the night sky, catching your attention. You briefly glance out of the corner of your eye at Aemond but continue to keep your gaze firmly on the window.

Not until a few minutes later a gentle rain begins to fall, creating a sort of melancholy atmosphere, which you don't know if that makes the whole situation worse.

But there are also more words you want to say, but you just can't.

The raindrops gently tap against the windshield, Aemond turns on the windshield wipers and slows down a bit.

You realize that it's not long before you have to tell him what your building is, but you still feel that lump in your throat that prevents you from speaking, even to tell him something as simple as that.

You recognize that you were the one who broke up with him and that although it hurt you too and you also suffered, you also recognize that you caused him more pain by deciding to end it all that way, taking advantage of his situation.

But you really want to offer him your heartfelt condolences, to let him know that despite everything, you still care about him, but you feel the great tension all over your body.

What right do you have to say something like that to him after what happened?

What right do you have to be empathetic with him in that regard when what you did with him trying to find you to fix things, was that you blocked him from everywhere and just disappeared from his life as if you never existed?

And you can't imagine all that he must have gone through, all that he must have felt and all that he must have endured as well for his promotion in the company.

You know you have no right.

You know the damage you caused and the most acceptable thing would have been for you to have sought him out when it just happened, but you didn't.

You honestly don't know what these months have been like for him and in trying to find the words to be able to talk to him, you don't need to, as he talks.

More than anything Aemond asks you the first thing that comes to his mind after briefly seeing some small buildings with the name of your university below the name of the residence hall, breaking the silence.

"You live in a dorm now?"

He asks you with a certain disinterested and casual tone, which still makes you feel nervous, mostly at the thought of what you will say to him before you speak, still feeling that tension and awkwardness in the air.

"Yeah," you reply softly almost in a trembling tone as you still stare out the window, "Yeah, it wasn't hard to request it in the middle of the semester, you know… because of the scholarship."

You bite your lips, feeling really very nervous indeed even though the ice has been broken, though not really. And Aemond only hums in a nodding sound, not taking his gaze off the road and not saying anything else.

You bite your lips again, wishing he would say something back, anything, so you can talk to him, tell him what you want to tell him, but the words continue to get stuck in your throat and he says nothing more.

The ride continues for a few more long minutes until you see through the window that it is almost time to tell him which building is yours, causing you to despair.

Now or never.

You say to yourself, then begin to gather bravery and fill with courage, finally letting out a long breath and without thinking too much, you look at him again and speak.

"I'm sorry about your father," you say in a soft and compassionate voice, daring to look at him.

A complex mixture of feelings invade Aemond inside, definitely not expecting that.

He hides his astonishment, still fixing his eyes on the road, suddenly feeling a knot in his stomach, as well as feeling a warmth expand throughout his chest at your words.

He doesn't know what to say.

Much less what to do.

What would have happened if you had been with him at the time when his father left this world and he went on to become the head of all Targaryen Inc?

Even though the two of you didn't end well and now he feels that support from you towards him, however small it may be, it still made him feel grateful.

Although… he can't help but feel sad too, as inevitably his mind takes him back to remembering the good times when you and he were together.

Your words spill out all over the inside of the car, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed due to his lack of response, until he finally clears his throat as he shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, then nods, even though he doesn't return your gaze.

Probably everything would have been a little easier.

That's why he also feels a bit angry to see once again how everything is now between the two of you, where there is no longer an 'us'.

"Thank you," he says back in a soft, emotionless voice, not daring to look at you.

And again another awkward silence sets in.

You want to ask him how he is, what he has done, how is the company, his mother, Hel, even Aegon and Daeron, you want to know what happened to his grandsire and Alys Rivers, but again… you can't speak.

At least you're thankful he didn't ignore you after you ignored him and you feel a weight off your heart, you look out the window again while biting your lower lip, still feeling that awkwardness and that tension all over the air, but strangely feeling a little relieved.

And finally that moment comes, you see your residence in the distance.

With this also coming to an end, with a resigned feeling you point to the building, again feeling on edge just from talking to him.

"It's over there," you point to him and he doesn't say anything to you, just starts to pull up to the curb to park.

You swallow hard and Aemond brings the car to a complete stop, right in front of the doors of your building, then continues to stare ahead, expectantly, waiting for the moment when you will get out of his car and probably never see you again.

With a sadness in your chest, you grab your phone and also your purse to get out, also being aware that after this, you probably won't see him again for a while. Or maybe never again, because of your new job position.

And that disappoints you, makes you feel sad and inevitably, you resist the urge to cry.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it," you tell him honestly and sincerely, placing your hand on the handle to open the door and walk out.

He just hums back with a slight nod, not watching you, his hand resting on the steering wheel and the other on his chin, his gaze straight ahead, which hurts you, that he can't even watch you. At least not at this moment.

Because he doesn't want to see you go again.

He doesn't want to have another image of you leaving, leaving him, not knowing when he will see you again or if he will even see you again.

Again you feel that sharp pain in your chest as he apart from not being able to watch you, he can not even speak to you again, just waiting for this to be over and nothing more.

Although… just as you are about to open the door to leave and enter your building, you stop.

And you understand. You understand his lack of interactivity and also his lack of words. But this is just as painful for you as it is for him.

Your shoulders slump from the tension you were feeling, suddenly feeling defeated and like you have nothing left to lose. That's why you stop all your movements and with a thoughtful and disappointed look, with your lips parted you turn to watch him.

And that's when you finally ask him the question that was always invading your mind since you broke up with him, even crying, being more of a statement than a question but now you can finally know his answer.

Aemond frowns slightly as he notices out of the corner of his eye how you stop and don't get out of his car.

He feels your gaze on him and when you don't move any further nor say anything to him, he finally looks directly into your eyes with a confused and expectant expression at the same time.

You know your question is risky, but you need to know.

"Do you hate me?"

You ask him with uncertainty in your voice, your eyes full of sadness.

"Because of how I ended things?"

A heavy silence again fills the interior of the car for a moment with your words hovering, as Aemond feels astonishment again but hides it well, also not expecting to hear those words from you, as an unfamiliar feeling settles in his chest.

He remains completely silent, thinking about your question and also what he will tell you next.

Answer with the truth or be just as cruel to you, as you were to him, even if it's not true?

The simple question in his mind makes him feel absurd and also makes him scold himself, as it doesn't make any sense.

The sound of the light rain still patters softly against the car, the lightning continues to reflect every minute, his music also plays softly in the background in that delicate moment, where you wait for an answer and he feels a whirlwind of emotions, contemplating the question with seriousness.

And finally he breaks the silence between the two of you, deciding to answer your question honestly, still focused on the road and not watching you.

"No."

His voice is clear, but with a slight sadness and his answer makes you feel more that pain in your chest and also that a new knot forms in your throat, feeling more the urge to cry, but inexplicably you feel a relief inside because of his answer.

Despite everything, he doesn't hate you.

You think with wonder and longing, for he should hate you, really. Yet he doesn't. And you don't know if that just makes everything worse.

"I-I thought…" you begin to say, trying to control your trembling voice, "I thought you had moved on and—

And after his confession, Aemond lets out another long breath, not saying or doing anything else, still expectant of what you will do, whether you will finally get off or say something else.

And you nod your head slightly as you bite the inside of your cheek, chasing away your tears.

You stop as you hear him let out an incredulous snort with an amused grin, shaking his head, averting his gaze from the road for a moment, feeling anger sweep through his body.

"Do I look like I've moved on?"

And before you can say anything else, he speaks again.

He asks you as he finally watches you with disbelief and anticipation in his gaze. And you bite your lips, further controlling the urge to cry, as Aemond turns his gaze forward, clenching his jaw in annoyance.

"You did what you thought was right and necessary at the time," he says seriously, "It wasn't what I wanted but I don't blame you because I know I made mistakes too," he acknowledges, "My father's death just made everything worse," he says finally, still with annoyance in his gaze.

And right after his words and silence again settles between the two of you, you know you have nothing more to do here.

The rain continues to fall and with your heart in a fist, you finally decide to get out of his car and take refuge in your room, where you will cry yourself to sleep. So you grab the door handle, making sure one last time that you have all your things with you.

You withdraw your tears and speak without daring to look at him.

"Thanks again for the ride."

You tell him for the last time in your soft, sad, broken voice, controlling your emotions and your sobs.

And just as you open the door and the sound of the rain becomes more audible, before one of your legs touches the ground and you get completely out of the car, this time it is Aemond's voice that stops you.

"And do you hate me?"

His question with a soft tone makes you stop immediately, making you freeze in surprise for a moment, since you did not expect that, and then slowly turn your gaze back to him, where he is already watching you with the same need to know your answer as you were watching him before.

He notices your glassy eyes, he notices your sadness and also how you are controlling your crying, he notices it all. And you also notice the sadness in his eyes, that longing that you can't really explain.

Because you also feel that same longing inside you.

"Do you hate me for not fighting hard enough for you?"

And in that moment, you both know he means everything.

For not fighting Otto Hightower, Alys Rivers and his work hard enough. For allowing everything to escalate, for not fixing it soon enough, for making you reach your breaking point and that's why you decided to break up with him.

And you… had never thought about it, about hating him. But you immediately know the answer, without hesitation.

"No."

And again Aemond feels caught in a whirlpool of emotions.

His gaze reflects slight surprise and also slight relief, but also regret. He honestly didn't expect to hear that answer from you. And his surprise is mixed with his confusion.

Even though his own grandsire interfered in the relationship and also his possible partner Alys Rivers in a completely improper way, where they both pretended you didn't exist and he didn't do enough to protect you and the relationship, he wonders in confusion: why? Why don't you hate him?

"You don't even do with knowing that I could have done more to make it all work?" he asks you softly and uncertainly, "So we could have been together?"

You focus your gaze on the rain-fogged windshield, watching the drops fall and slide down the glass, as you again feel a lump in your throat and process his words.

You bite your lips, again feeling the urge to cry.

Honestly you did had wanted him to have fought harder for you, for both of you. But you know it wasn't his fault. It was just things he couldn't control, things that weren't entirely in his hands.

You know that work is work and he really tried by putting his boundaries firm with Rivers and also by worrying all the time about you, all the time making you his priority.

But sadly it wasn't enough.

You let out a sigh and with your eyes on the rain, still feeling a mix of complex emotions, you speak in your calm and soft voice, mostly honest, but at the same time with a touch of sadness and resignation.

"No, I don't hate you," you clarify again, "It's not fair to blame you for what happened, the situation was complicated and we both made mistakes," you watch him with your teary eyes, "And I know I owe you an apology."

Aemond's gaze contracts into one more of sadness, watching you intently but with that hard look on his features where he tries not to break down, as the rain out there intensifies and you gently close the door again.

"I'm really sorry," you sigh, in a light sob, "I'm really sorry that I took advantage of your trip to give you no time at all. I never meant to hurt you like that," you tell him honestly, "I did what I thought was right. But you didn't deserve that."

Aemond feels a slight ache in his chest, with that feeling of sadness again taking over and his mind goes back to the past, to remembering that horrible day in that horrible moment, when you left him without looking back.

And he thinks of all he could have done and all he could have been.

But despite this, he feels a flash of relief to know that you don't really hate him, but he is also overcome with regret for apologizing to him, when he never felt the need or thought you owed him an apology before.

Just like you, he feels remorse, a longing, and that longing inside him that still lingers and grows bigger.

"I regret… everything," he tells you in a soft, low murmur, drawing your full attention, "I regret not trying harder, not showing you how much you meant to me…" he pauses a little, "Not stopping my grandsire sooner... and I'm really sorry, for everything I put you through."

And he tells you all this with restrained emotion, feeling completely vulnerable and sincere, wanting you to understand the depth of his feelings.

And you do, you really do.

But honestly, you can't take this anymore.

The rain is getting heavier and heavier and what you need is to release all the tears you've been holding back for a while now. And you don't want to cry in front of him, simply because you don't want to look so vulnerable and you want to get it over with, because in the end, he will go back to his own way and you will go back to yours.

And it's better for you to end it once and for all before it gets harder for you.

"You don't have to apologize," you say through your held back tears, "But if that's what you need to say, it's okay, I understand."

You try to keep calm in your voice, but there is a mixture of sadness and understanding in your tone. And even though Aemond feels a weight less on his shoulders, the sadness is persistent and he says nothing more, with silence enveloping them.

And that's when you decide it's time to leave.

"Take care of yourself, okay? And thanks again."

You don't watch him when you say it, you don't dare to watch him, to watch as you again leave him behind, as you quickly wipe the tears that have escaped from your cheeks and again place your hand on the handle to open the door, turning your back on him.

And here it comes, the ultimate goodbye.

Aemond noticing all this, with his sad, desperate, anguished and worried expression, says to himself too: now or never.

And again he stops you with his words.

"I fired my grandsire."

He says to you in a tone just as desperate as his face, almost in a needy tone, again stopping you and making your breath catch for a moment, listening to him carefully.

"As soon as I became head, I fired him," he tells you more plainly, watching you sadly and desperately, "Rhaenyra took his place and I never associated with Rivers," he says and between your parted lips in surprise, "In the end I cut all connection with her and her company. And instead I successfully partnered with Rodrik Greyjoy, who has connections to Dorne and Essos."

You turn your gaze slowly back to him, where he is already watching you, being completely honest with every word he is saying, drawing your attention and making you focus entirely on him, now knowing the answer to the questions you asked yourself in the pub when you saw him.

And… you don't know what to say.

His grandsire and Rivers, they're both just not around anymore.

And probably if Aemond had become the boss sooner, maybe you and he would still be together. And that's what hurts you the most, that Aemond couldn't act sooner until he was the boss.

And how you wish you could have been present at that moment in his life.

Aemond averts his gaze from yours for a moment, where neither of you say anything else nor do anything else, submerging you back into that silence that is eclipsed a bit by his music and also the rain outside.

And Aemond again summons up the courage to ask you what has been going through his mind since the relationship ended, all the while feeling a sadness inside, along with helplessness, frustration and jealousy, thinking the worst.

"Do you…" he pauses for a moment, feeling the bitterness in his tone that he can't help, "Do you have someone new?"

Your eyes immediately meet his, who watches you completely attentive to your answer, wanting, no, needing to know that question that has tormented him every night and day, making him feel jealous and annoyed.

And your gaze shows a mixture of emotions, from mild surprise to sadness and indecision. But not because of the question, but because of him.

How could he think you have someone new when he's been the greatest love of your life so far?

Practically Aemond has ruined every other man for you and you are still completely in love with him. But you understand his question, because of the sudden way you decided to break up with him.

And honestly, you too sometimes wondered the same thing, if he had found someone else or if he finally decided to get involved with Rivers.

"No," you answer him truthfully.

Just you.

You want to say, but the words get stuck in your throat.

And Aemond feels a huge relief course through his body, as he looks away from yours once more and nods his head slowly, running a hand over his chin.

And you can't help but ask him the same question with a certain cautious tone, just to make sure.

"Do you—

"Of course not," he tells you immediately, still with sadness in his gaze.

And that to this day still lingers, just in the same way that you are still in love with him.

It's also absurd for him for you to return the question, since finding someone new was the last thing on his mind.

And even though he moved on with his life and his work more than anything else, his mind and heart were still anchored to you in a way that he couldn't get over.

Aemond unable to contain his emotions any longer, finally tells you the words that have been stuck in his throat for a while now in a trembling voice.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, not even for a moment, since you left."

His gaze meets yours, feeling just as vulnerable as you did before, as your eyes fill with emotion, longing and surprise, beginning to feel your heart beating too hard, unable to control your heart rate.

"I came to keep Floris company because I knew you would come, that's the only reason I decided to show up, because I wanted to see you again and try to talk to you, fix what I couldn't fix before, if you would let me," he tells you honestly, then lets out a bitter laugh to himself, "How could I have anyone else when it's clear I'm still completely crazy about you?" he slowly shakes his head, "I still love you, more than you or anyone else could ever imagine."

And it is there, in his most sincere confession, that he tells you that he still loves you in his slightly trembling voice.

And you for a moment, you are silent, struggling to contain your emotions. However… inevitably tears begin to slide down your cheeks freely, uncontrollably.

Tears of happiness, excitement, surprise, but also of sadness and nostalgia simply because of the situation. And Aemond seeing your state, feels like a dagger piercing his heart, still hating to see you cry and it's worse when he knows you're crying for him.

But before he can say anything to you to stop you from crying, feeling guilty, you with your emotions running high, suddenly feeling a liberating impulse, you let yourself go.

"Oh Aemond," you sigh through your tears.

And without giving him time to anticipate anything, surprisingly in an act necessitated by that impulse so suddenly in your system, you lean fully into him and press your lips to his.

And Aemond without thinking at all, though still in surprise, wastes no time at all and kisses you back in an equally needy way, also leaning completely into you, where one of his large, firm hands takes you around the back of your neck to hold you close, kissing you deep and slow.

You gasp softly into his mouth at the sensation, then move your lips again in rhythm with him, feeling every texture of his lips, those lips you missed so much, bringing your hands around his neck, clinging completely to him.

You both almost devour each other, it being a kiss with a slight mingling of teeth and where it feels so fucking good, his lips moving in coordination with yours, deep.

And you find yourself responding to his kiss now that way, being completely addictive, enjoying his warm and consuming lips, not wanting to stop, feeling your desire increase every second for wanting to feel his closeness, also that little tingle in your between leg.

"Fuck baby," he sighs into your mouth.

Then his tongue makes its way all the way inside your mouth, unable to help it, making you gasp and feel a curious sensation in your lower abdomen as well from your nickname that you haven't heard in a while.

"I love you too," you tell him in between kisses, "So fucking much. Never stop doing so."

Aemond groans in your lips, feeling that warmth from before expanding again in his chest when he hears your words, as well as he feels a fire starting to grow inside him that makes him take you with his other free hand from his hip and forces you to sit in his lap.

His moist, warm mouth welcomes you back, taking in the slight smell of beer and cigarette which doesn't displease you at all, on the contrary, it makes you continue to more fervently caress your lips with his in a deep way in wet sounds.

It's not complicated even though you are both inside his car and the steering wheel is right behind you, being a little uncomfortable, but you don't mind.

So with the same need he has to feel you close, you make yourself comfortable and with your hand around the edge of his jaw, bring his face closer to yours to kiss him again.

This way Aemond can hold both hands on your face, keeping you exactly where he wants you, then gently caress your curves and breathe hard against your face.

"I love you so much," he murmurs against you between kisses, kissing you again, "I can't get enough of you."

You slide one of your hands down his chest, inhaling deeply to return his demanding kisses, as he continues with his hands on your hips, pressing you against him, letting you feel what is happening inside his pants.

You almost let out a whimper as you feel his rigid, hard, hot arousal beneath you, almost below your center, where your juices begin to flow.

"Did you miss me?"

He asks you in a low, husky murmur, completely aroused, then pulls his lips away from yours and begins to leave soft, wet kisses down your neck, starting a trail, making you gasp loudly and tilt your head to the side to give him more accessibility.

You bite your lower lip as his hands go all the way down and briefly caress your thighs, then squeeze and lightly caress the soft skin of your ass above your skirt, increasing your arousing desire all over your insides.

"Yes baby, all the time," you reply with a little difficulty, panting and breathing hard.

"Miss you too," he says in a hoarse murmur as he kisses your collarbone, your throat and again your neck.

Placing your hand back on one of his cheeks, you kiss him again with need, beginning to move smoothly and deeply back and forth your hips against him, his hardness slamming directly against your center, making you moan.

Aemond lets out a deep growl as he feels the friction of your movements against him, squeezing both of your ass cheeks with more fervor, not wanting you to stop.

Simply everything around you both disappears at that moment, the rain is still coming down hard and you're both too busy to worry if someone will walk by and see you like this.

"I want you, now," he murmurs against your lips, breathing and panting just as hard as you are.

And this catches your attention, causing you to stop kissing him and watch him at the eye that is fully dilated and full of lust and arousal, which you also know your eyes must be like this.

And as much as you want to calm that slight delicious ache of arousal in your nerve center since it's been too long since he was last inside you, at that moment you remember where you are and look around, barely being able to see anything through the rain-fogged glass, but still causing you hesitation.

"But..." you say with your voice and look not entirely convinced, again trying to see something through the glass, "H-here?"

"It's been so long," he tells you, again leaving wet kisses on your neck that make you shiver all over, trying to convince you.

"I know b-but… "you say still undecided, "I don't know—

"Please, baby," he looks into your eyes, "Feel what you're doing to me."

It forces you to again move your hips against it deeply, fully feeling its heavy hardness in need of attention and release, the friction sending delicious waves of arousal that also need attention.

"I want you. Right here. Right now. Don't tell me you don't want me too, I know you do."

You almost let out a little cry of surprise when unexpectedly, he sniffs under your skirt and just above your panties, you feel the huge palm of his hand cover your pussy with ease, caressing you in your entirety.

"A-ah!"

A soft whimper escapes you and you furrow your brows with the clear excitement and pleasure in your gaze, beginning to breathe harder, agitated and shaky.

"You're all soaked, baby."

He says in the midst of his excitation, delighted by the way you're dripping all over him, stroking you with his huge hand all over from front to back, making you moan loudly and start to move your hips against his hand, needing more, the friction being absolutely delicious.

And just as one of his long, slender fingers is about to pull the fabric of your panties aside to touch you directly, with a feeling of regret for the pleasure but also desperate, you stop his hand abruptly, not letting him go any further.

Aemond furrows his eyebrows in confusion amidst all his excitement, staring at you blankly, as you return your nervous, worried, agitated gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"I-I wasn't expecting this," you begin to say, even with your hand completely stopping his movements, nervously, "And it's been a while since I've shaved."

Aemond's confusion only becomes more noticeable even after hearing your words, understanding but at the same time not, as you watch him completely worried and on alert, not having the slightest idea what will happen next.

But Aemond knows what exactly will happen next, still not understanding why you said that and why you look so worried about it when he understands that you already know.

So he shakes his head briefly in your direction, still confused.

"And you think I care about that?"

His words take you completely by surprise and before you can say or do anything, his finger finally pulls the fabric aside and with his index and middle finger directly touches your dripping wet center, stroking you in slight circles making you moan and arch your back with your face contracting in complete pleasure.

Aemond can't help but smile in satisfaction at the way you react and respond, feeling you moisten his fingers more, loving your every expression and how you are like this to him.

And finally he expertly slips his fingers between your folds as if he wants to check how wet you are.

"Aemond," you moan his name, wiggling your hips against his hand again.

"Yes, baby," he praiseswith even satisfaction and desire in his gaze, "God, you are so fucking hot."

"Please," you whine, watching him with need and pleasure, "Please fuck me, fuck me with your fingers."

"Yeah? You want that?"

He watches you with tease, feeling his fingers slide all over your entrance, making you moan and sigh for him, feeling so good but not enough, as you need more.

"Aemond," you say his name in a plea.

And that smirk appears on his lips, deciding he doesn't want to tease you since he's just as desperate as you are, but this little moment is about you.

"Here you go, baby, all for you. I'm gonna take good care of my girl."

You moan prologue as he slips both fingers into your tight, hot, needy entrance, moving them inside you in a way that steals the breath from your lungs.

You arch your back as you moan and your chest is right in front of him, his eye going at that moment to your confined breasts, needing to be released and also needing to receive attention.

He doesn't need to say anything to you, as you are too busy receiving and enjoying the feel of his fingers inside you, so with his free hand he moves it up the back of your top, reaches in and with a calculated and expert movement, undoes the clip of your bra.

This doesn't totally get your attention, what does is how Aemond moves your bra out of the way and down the front of your top, exposes your breasts for him by the side of your cleavage.

"Gods," he murmurs to himself in delight to then bring his hand up, kneading your left breast all over and bringing his lips to your nipple on your right breast.

Now the feel of his lips and one of his hands on your breasts makes you moan louder as you continue to feel him move his fingers inside you just the way you need and exactly how you like.

Just as he knows exactly how you like it when he licks and kisses your nipples with need, grunting in the middle of his licks, watching your face at all times, not wanting to miss every expression on your face.

"Yes, just like that, p-please," you whimper, arching your back more and bringing one of your hands to his hair to push his face more against your breasts.

But you lose it completely when he twists and arches his fingers inside you with purpose, stroking and searching until he finds the spot that draws a gasp from you.

"There we go," he murmurs, watching you, "Fuck, you're so warm, baby, "he groans, "You're going to feel so fucking good around my cock."

His words send more delicious waves of pleasure to your center that he continues to caress and soothe, as he watches his fingers disappear inside you again and again, continuously, to return his attention to your breasts.

Each caress of his fingers, hand and lips make you melt completely on top of him, still panting and feeling dizzy and lightheaded, having no coherent thought because of the sensations.

And yet, it's not enough, you need more, need more of him, desperately.

"So fucking good," you murmur in sighs, your breath coming in ragged gasps, "Please, baby, don't stop."

Aemond groans

"I can feel you squeezing my fingers, baby," he says, stroking your soft spot, "Are you going to cum?"

"Y-yes," you say in a faint murmur, contracting your face into one of pleasure and need, moving your hips faster against his hand, "Oh fuuuck."

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs, beginning again to leave wet kisses down your face and neck, "I can't believe you're mine… and how perfect you are," he says over the softness of your breasts, husky, "Fuck."

"Aem-mond," you say in a desperate tone, still swaying your hips and about to reach your high point.

He feels you clench tighter all around your fingers and before you can finally feel your orgasm hit you, he stops his movements and removes his fingers from inside you.

You whimper with confusion and discomfort more than evident on your face, watching him instantly, breathing hard and fast, with the slight sweat on your forehead, about to reproach, but Aemond speaks quickly.

"On my cock," he clarifies to you, taking his hands off you for a moment, bringing them to his belt to remove it and also unbuckle his pants, "I want you to cum all over my cock."

As he begins to remove his belt with a little difficulty, he is totally focused on that, but as he unbuckles his pants and is about to release his hardened member, he turns his eye to your face and sees even the discomfort and frustration on your face from the denied orgasm.

"Oh baby, don't look at me like that," he tells you with the smirk in his gaze, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your cheek, "Don't worry, I'll give you exactly what you want. Be a good girl for me and be patient."

This inevitably brings waves of pleasure to your aroused yet aching center for not cumming, so you squeeze your thighs together in a vain attempt to find relief.

And finally Aemond releases his big, hard, hot cock from his underwear, watching you all the while with pleasure and completely ravenous.

His long, slender fingers wrap around the base, then stroke himself with deep, long strokes, grunting lowly each time his thumb brushes over his sensitive, red tip.

At the scene of him stroking himself with your lust-filled eyes, you can't help but moisten your lips with the tip of your tongue, needing him inside your mouth or inside you, either is fine with you.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he says, bringing one of his hands to your thigh, "Let me see that pretty pussy."

Even though it's been a while, you still shamelessly try to spread your legs as wide as you can, letting him see your wet pussy dripping with your juices, glistening slightly and fully engorged, needing him.

"Fuck," he growls, "All this for me?"

He brings his hand to your center again and with his thumb strokes gently but with just enough pressure your sensitive bud, making you moan and arch your back from feeling it more intensely.

Aemond bites his lower lip as he watches your pussy contract from his caresses, then he moves his eye up to your face and at the end he focuses totally on your slightly sweaty body, your perfect breasts with both hard nipples making his cock throb in a painful but delicious way at the same time.

"I want to ride you," you say in the middle of your expression of pleasure, panting.

Aemond smiles and pulls his hand away from your needy pussy before he goes any further and places them both on either side of your body, watching you expectantly.

"Go ahead, baby. I'm all yours."

This only heightens your arousal more and the idea of riding him rough is too delicious and makes you feel yourself getting wetter.

You wrap his heavy cock in your hand, breathing through your mouth, then rise up on his lap and direct his tip to your needy, dripping pussy.

You slowly lower down and feel him open you all the way, making you moan his name too loudly.

"Oh my god, Ae-mond" you whined, closing your eyes in complete delight.

"Oh fuck," Aemond groans, "Fuck, baby."

You both curse as it feels so fucking good.

You slowly descend, moaning throughout, feeling yourself open wider for him, causing Aemond to groan and curse louder as he feels you squeeze him in such an exaggeratedly good way that it almost makes him cum.

Even with more of his long, thick cock left to enter your pussy, he grabs your hips with both burning hands and pushes you down to finish sinking all of him inside you, where you both moan and grunt deliciously.

"That's so fucking good," you praise, completely drunk with pleasure and how he fills you completely.

Only he fills you this way, being exactly what you need. And you've missed it.

He gives you time for your body to adjust to his size after so long, while this time with both hands he caresses your breasts, giving attention with his tongue to your hard buds, making you moan as it feels too much, though not enough.

"You like it that much, hm?"

He teases you and then runs his tongue right across your right bud, lightly grazing it with his teeth, making you gasp as his hands continue to caress the softness of your breasts with sharp movements that take in all your skin.

And once you feel comfortable again with his size inside you, you begin to move your hips against him.

"Oh yeah, baby," he grunts, "Just like that."

You continue to move back and forth, moaning his name, feeling his warm breath against your breasts, beginning to feel your skin bristle from all the sensation that is too much but not enough at the same time.

"Yes, baby," you say in a whimper, "Please, you feel so good."

You begin to move more purposefully up and down now, causing him to growl again and let out a curse in your ear, holding you tighter around your waist by how you bounce against him.

The rain out there probably helps make your moans not so audible, but you no longer care where you are and if anyone might notice you both, especially since the car is moving with your movements on top of him, but you don't care.

You can only focus on one thing and that is Aemond, your perfect boyfriend.

You only feel more waves of pleasure that his cock soothes as you see his beautiful smooth but slightly contracted face in intense pleasure, with a few strands of his now short hair sticking to his forehead from his light sweat, looking so sexy.

Each drag of his cock head sends electricity throughout your body and a feeling of euphoria, almost making you see stars and fireworks, moving more fervently against him.

His breathing is just as fast as yours, hearing on top of that the slapping of your ass against his thighs every time you thrust him deep inside you again.

"That's it," he hums, then tightens the grip of his hands on your hips and begins to move faster and harder on top of him.

You moan loudly, feeling too much, delicious and driving you completely crazy.

"Fuck," you whined at the way he guides you, closing your eyes in complete delight.

And the next thing he does as he feels your walls contract around him, he wraps his arms around you and holds you with his warm hands from your lower back, grunts and begins to meet your movements as he too thrusts his hips upward in hard, fast, hard thrusts.

The air is completely gone from your lungs once more and you moan louder, the sound of both your skins sticking together also being heard, making your eyes roll back.

"Yes, yes, baby," you say as best you can, drunk with pleasure, frowning as you feel yourself cumming soon.

"Holy fuck, baby," he croons, "Keep goin', baby. Squeeze my cock. I wanna feel you cum first," he groans, his voice almost desperate.

He continues to whisper obscene things in your ear, that you are his, how much he loves you, how beautiful you look all desperate with his cock inside you, what he wants to do to you next, how long he has waited to be inside you again and how much he loves to hear your beautiful sounds that are only for him.

You can't help but react to his dirty words and your pussy squeezes him harder, making him grunt and curse with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his cheeks pink from the heat and his lips half-open, breathing hard.

"Fuck-fuck," you say quickly, clinging tighter to him in a desperate way.

"You're going to cum, aren't you?" he purrs and you let out a moan, trying to speak, "Yes, baby. Cum for me, please."

He leans in and kisses you with need, as he continues to grind his hips against yours and you moan into his mouth as he brings his thumb back to your bud and strokes it with just enough pressure to make you moan and feel more of your pleasure on the verge of exploding.

And with three more sweeps of his thumb on your clit, you get goose bumps and collapse on top of him.

You moan his name and every muscle in your body tenses at once, you tingle and your mind goes blank as you let out a high pitched moan louder than the previous ones and you see stars behind your eyes as a wave passes all over your insides.

You feel the euphoria all over your head and you jerk for a moment, almost aching from it all, feeling too much as Aemond continues to fuck you through your orgasm, reaching his own peak.

"Oh, fuck," you hear him moan and with one last hard, hard lunge, a hot liquid spurt of his cum fills you inside you.

The pleasure burns all over you, it courses through your body and you gasp, breathing hard and barely processing everything that has just happened.

Together you wait for the high to subside as you drop your head heavily against his shoulder and he continues to hold you, waiting for his racing heartbeat to calm down.

He begins to leave soft kisses on your forehead and brushes away your damp locks stuck to your sweaty face gently, smiling completely happy and satisfied, while you continue to melt under his touch and watch for a moment as the rain continues out there.

"Are you okay, baby?"

He asks you while still trying to catch his breath and you hums in affirmation, slowly sitting back up to look him in the eye.

"More than okay," you assure him with that satisfaction in your body.

You smile at him with love in your gaze and lean in to kiss him, where once again you think of how much you missed him and how happy it makes you to be with him again in this way, being all you needed.

"Stay with me in my room," you tell him as you pull away from him, not taking your hands away from his face.

"I wasn't planning on not staying, love."

He smiles back at you and he leaves one more kiss on your lips again, pulling your whole naked body against him again, holding you tight, as if he doesn't want to let you go.

His cock softens inside you and you carefully pull away from on top of him, feeling like there's a mess on your crotch and thighs, but nothing you can't fix since your room is a few feet away.

Once you both finish cleaning up what you can inside his car, where barely Aemond cares about it, you and he run under the rain to hurry into your building, where you take him to your room.

Tonight is not the last time Aemond makes you come, as once you are both in the four walls of your room, he makes you come with his fingers, tongue and cock, proclaiming it is to make up for the time you were both apart.

The next morning, in your bed, you can't help the silly smile that appears on your lips when you see the serene and calm face of Aemond, who is sleeping peacefully next to you.

You immediately place your head on his chest and hug him, wanting to feel that closeness and touch from him, completely happy but also tired from everything you both did last night.

You feel that satisfied tingle between your legs and now being like this with him, just time seems to stand still for you, wanting to be like this forever.

Aemond stirs a little under you and you feel and hear him inhale deeply, then feel his warm hands wrap around your bare back, pulling your body closer to him, making you smile softly.

"Hmm," he says hoarsely, sending a vibration you feel in his chest, "Good morning," he says still sleepily.

You laugh softly under your breath, lifting your face to watch him.

"It's the afternoon, actually," you tell him amused then leave a soft kiss on his lips.

He hums, still keeping his eye closed, while instead of seeing his blue sapphire in his left empty socket, he has on his prosthetic eye, which you hadn't seen in some time, but still had missed.

"Really?" he asks you still sleepily.

"It's twelve o'clock," you let him know, then look at him somewhat warily, "Don't you have to work or something?"

"Hmm…" he says for a moment, hugging you against his chest more firmly, "Yeah but it doesn't matter, I want to take the day off."

You can't help the small tight-mouthed smile that appears on your lips and you pull your face closer to his, closing your eyes and melting under his touch and the comfort of your bed, while out there the weather is cloudy from the storm at night.

"You know my work now won't interfere between us, right?" he suddenly asks you softly, getting your attention, "I'm not going to make the same mistakes as last time. I'm going to do this right."

Again you can't help but smile a little, as you remain silent for a moment and gently nuzzle your nose with his.

"Now I know," you murmur softly to him, in response.

Aemond smiles softly, marking his dimples on either side of his cheeks, as the two of you make no effort to get out of bed and entwine your legs together, intending to stay here for a while longer.

And in that moment, it's just you and him, both in the right place at the right time.

That day in your room, you both talked about everything, about what would come next and how you would face it together, how you would do things now and also caught up for the months apart.

There were all kinds of laughs and heartfelt conversations. Instead of focusing on the mistakes of the past, you chose to look forward and build that new future together.

A few weeks after you and Aemond got back together, the topic of you both living together comes up again, but this time, he gives you the news that he stopped living in the apartment where you both lived together and recently bought an apartment for himself in the upper suburbs.

And it's only a matter of time before you both now create new moments in a new place.

Even the press gives the news after they see you both in a luxurious restaurant enjoying a rich dinner, where there is no lack of physical contact and some innocent kisses, where you both look absolutely happy.

Aemond's family, Hel more than anything else, are happy that the two of you are back together, where you never crossed paths with Otto Hightower.

And it is also only a matter of time before all the other close people around know that you and Aemond are back together again.

But Aemond couldn't care less, since he has you back, his sweet girl and that's all he cares about.

His company continued to be successful, even increased with now him being the boss and your classes and work remained the same, only with the difference that you now have that stability you had so longed for back.

And fortunately it came back into your life, as well as Aemond's new life, having you back.

You both supported each other in your goals and dreams, finding strength and inspiration in this new chapter of your lives.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @n4forlife @iamavailablesstuff @ttkttt @elliaze @trshngyn @tsujifreya @imsoshygirl @watercolorskyy @kckt88 @zenka69 @yentroucnagol @crispmarshmallow @bellastwd @queenofshinigamis @strangersunghoon @happinessinthebeing @iloveallmyboys @twobluejeans @siriusdumblittlepuppy @celesteblack08 @birkinwhore @nikkitc0703

[ddarker-dreams]

Entanglement.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, unwanted kissing, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

“You’re still refusing to wear the clothes I gifted you, dearest?” 

A dulcet voice smoother than the finest silk coos from behind. 

You don’t deviate from your original task. Just outside the window, the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space looms. A mere panel of specialized glass is the only barrier between you and infinite nothingness. The concept used to frighten you, to a paralyzing extent. It got to the point your oh-so-benevolent captor had to make adjustments. Using some technology you’re unacquainted with, the dark canvas morphed into a familiar, more palpable set piece: the scenery of your home planet. 

You’ve since overcome this hurdle and no longer require the mirage’s services. 

Space isn’t what you fear anymore. No, it’s the woman with the future in her eyes who holds that distinction. 

“It isn’t to my taste.” 

“I know,” she agrees. Her perfume is near stupefying when it invades your senses. “It's to mine.” 

Kafka is either aggravatingly unassuming or laser-sharp with her intentions. You’re never given time to adjust to her fickle ways, the second you think you might understand her, she reveals just enough that you’re right back where you started. 

Gloved fingers hover over your wrist, causing your hair to stand on end. As if she’s playing a glissando on the piano, her fingers slowly creep up, from your forearm to your bare shoulder. Presently, you’re wearing one of the few garments you were allowed to bring. It’s a plain, white dress that she longs to stain with her own palette. 

Her arms envelop your midsection from behind. She nuzzles her nose into your neck, swaying you back and forth while she hums a haunting ballad. Can she hear the skipping of your heart? Does she consider it just another instrument to compose her hedonistic harmonies? 

“Are the stars truly that interesting?” she murmurs against your skin. “Surely, they aren’t prettier than I am, hm?” 

“Maybe. At least they understand the concept of personal space.” 

“Oh, I do as well. I just choose to ignore it when it comes to you.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t.” 

You can feel her smile.

“You’d be lonely without me. Maddeningly so.” 

“Insanity is tempting if you’re the alternative.” 

She laughs, the sound low and husky, belying any offense taken, if you had the hubris to think anything you said could hurt her. Before you can register anything, she twirls you around. In this new, uncomfortable intimate position, you’re forced to look her in the eye. There’s no quality of hers that unsettles you more. They draw you in and devour you like a black hole, picking apart actions you haven’t even committed yet. 

It reminds you, similar to the path she walks, that nothing you do will ever amount to any meaningful change in your circumstances. 

Kafka settles her gloved pointer finger and thumb on your chin, tilting your head up. Whatever she’s thinking is as unknowable as the universe itself. Her fondness for you is an illness without a cure — even she must know how sick it is. Something tells you that if a remedy for it ever existed, she’d refuse to take it, and would instead crush the vial before your eyes. 

“What a beauty you are,” she praises through lidded eyes. “There is no greater joy than knowing you feel every second we’re apart, just as I do.” 

Irate, you try moving your head away, but this causes her grip to tighten. Never enough to hurt — it’s only meant to warn. 

“I take it you don’t like the cosmetics I brought back, either?” 

Kafka delights in asking questions she already knows the answers to. If she had anything resembling a hobby, you suppose that would be it. 

The skin beneath her eyes crinkled with amusement at your abrupt vow of silence. You fight off a shiver at the look. It’s all-consuming, dangerous in a way that rouses your primal instincts. She leans down close enough that you can feel her breath fan against your face. Her head tilts in a deliberate show of faux curiosity. 

“Is your tongue frozen? Should I think of a way to warm it up?” 

The hand that isn’t holding your head in place toys with the strap of your dress. 

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. You know when to surrender in a losing game. 

“... No.” 

“No?” She repeats, mimicking the inflection of your voice. “Ah, well, that’s a shame.” 

You almost sigh in relief when her hand retreats. She reaches into a pocket on the inside of her coat and pulls out a tube of lipstick. She applies the roseate pigment, maintaining smoldering eye contact with you all the while.

After what feels like an eternity, she descends upon you, her lips seeking yours in a fit of scathing passion. You freeze up at the unexpected boldness. She takes advantage of your reverie, interlocking your lips in a languid motion. There’s no urgency to the kiss, she takes her time with you, just how she likes it. 

Her hand presses against your back, urging your chest to arch into hers. It isn’t until her hand starts venturing down that you return to your senses. In a fit of panic, you raise your hands to push her away. The defiance gets you nowhere — she catches your wrists with ease and holds them in place. 

Fortunately, she pulls back, although she doesn’t relinquish her grip. 

“I knew this color would look good on you,” Kafka sighs, almost wistful. Then, she raises your wrist and presses a lingering kiss against your pulse point. It leaves a smudged lipstick stain behind. “That leaves the issue of the outfit. Hm, what to do, what to do…” 

As if hit with an epiphany, her eyes light up in microscopic supernovas. “I know. If you need my help applying makeup, then why should getting dressed be any different? Why, you should’ve said so sooner.” 

Indignant, you seethe, “That isn’t…! Fine, I’ll put it on myself. Just— just turn around, okay?” 

“Of course. Anything for my sweet, shy girl.” 

Surprisingly, Kafka acquiesces. She pivots on her heel and covers her eyes with her hands. A teasing gesture, if you had to guess. 

Just when you believe you’re regained a semblance of control over the situation, she throws in a comment that snuffs out this fledgling hope. 

“I’ll give you to the count of a ten before I come and help you myself.” 

[carowleysposts]

Good Omens makes me feel scary things. Let’s talk about it.

So, before I start, I think it’s important to clarify that I am neurodivergent. I have autism and GO is one of my strongest hyper-fixations ever. I am so emotionally and mentally invested in it I could talk about it for days on end and every single detail of this show makes me love it more.

But there’s a really really dark flip side to this love, and I would love to see if there’s anyone else who struggles with it too:

I think I care a little too much.

Although I am aware that this is somewhat “common” for people in the spectrum and my doctors all have confirmed I am not a complete nut case for it, I almost never feel comfortable admitting to those in my life that a piece of fiction has such a strong hold on me and my mental health. And as much as I love everything we’ve seen so far, all the little things I hear and read about season three give me heart-stopping waves of anxiety that are definitely not normal.

Like, I am constantly scared of what will happen, as if it was happening to me. And I know it’s embarrassing, but my brain is simply wired differently, and it feels so awful not being able to talk about it with my friends in real life.

Sometimes I feel like my day is ruined because I read someone say that they think S3 won’t have a happy ending, or that they probably won’t kiss or end up together or something bad like that. And even though I know it’s just fiction, it gives me stomach knots, as it is such a powerful part of my life and I think about is so much.

I have even come as far as to take breaks from Tumblr and mute some words on some social media platforms so that I won’t read Neil’s responses to questions - because they ALSO make me fear terribly and give me crippling anxiety, like when he said it won’t be romantic, or when he says stuff that make me worry for the future - and won’t hear speculation or even be reminded of other stuff people say.

And before anyone asks: Yes! I am fully aware it sounds absurd. And yes, i absolutely do feel crazy and embarrassed about it, but unfortunately this is the reality of many people in the spectrum and many neurodivergent people in general.

I do work, I am a ballet teacher and an author, so of course I have many other things to worry about and do and of course I have a life full of responsibilities and relationships and different pursuits to keep me from actually thinking about it nonstop. But still, even though I am busy and distracted most of the time, every now and then these feelings and worries come and punch me in the gut, and it completely paralyzes me for long moments. I feel kinda sick? I don’t know.

So I guess what I am trying to ask is: do you guys know of anyone who feels the same? Like, is there anyone else who feels like their mind has been absolutely taken over by fiction-related anxiety? And also: what should I do about it? I feel like absolutely no other piece of fiction compares to this one, and my mind simply won’t stop.

Help pls.

[qqueenofhades]

I completely understand if you don’t feel comfortable answering this, but my mind is spiraling out of control and you’re the only person I know with the level of knowledge to where I can feel comfortable asking this without getting some form of “bla bla we live in a safe state don’t worry.”

I’m sincerely wondering if I need to be making plans to leave the country in the event of November bringing the most horrible of outcomes despite our best efforts (and yes I’m planning to vote blue in everything I can); as a AFAB in CA?

I know about project 2025. I’m terrified. Forgive my pop culture reference, but I feel like a version of Princess Zelda staring down a barrel of possible doom while everyone around me is like “nah that future you literally had a nightmare about where they made it illegal for a woman to have a bank account without a guy co-signing it and took the money from everyone who didn’t comply by a certain date isn’t even a possibility!”

I’m just confused about my life and am trying to take it day by day, and exercising every right while I still have it to prevent this outcome, but it feels weird making plans and retirement accounts and just general Setting Up Adult Life And Future Things™️……while wondering if I even have a future in this place at all and I’m just making it harder to escape if need be.

I’m sorry I’m rambling, and I guess I don’t know what I’m asking since no one has a crystal ball.

But I guess, it’s stuff like how much can the feds effect state’s policies? Is it possible for them to immediately block international travel for all women practically upon inauguration? How much time would I even have to gtfo if the worst begins?

Bc honestly this whole thing feels like the lead in to a very nasty chapter of a history book, and even though I have hope we’ll have another blue tsunami, it can be hard to try and figure things out when it feels like there’s barely any historical precedent for any of it.

Welp. Okay. First of all, I am giving you a comforting hug, I am walking with you to your favorite coffee shop, I am paying for your favorite beverage and also a baked goodie of your choice, and we are sitting down in a corner where we can talk honestly. So that's where I want you to imagine us having this conversation.

To start with, yes, I completely understand this feeling of utter, paralyzing doom, where I am trying to go about my daily life and make plans for my career and carry out daily tasks and Be Responsible while there's still just this total void beyond the end of the year, the utter impossibility of knowing if we will have dodged an absolutely massive bullet and finally be safe (since if Trump loses again he is 100% going to jail in the next four years) or, well. You know. That is a very hard way to live, when you're wondering if anything is going to matter and you can't see beyond that black cloud of fear on the horizon. It sucks you down and tells you that nothing is worth doing now in case it just gets so much worse. I am not going to tell you not to feel that. We all do. We are all scared. That in and of itself is a perfectly normal way to feel.

However, there are things you can do both now and if (I repeat, if) God absolutely forbid, the worst was to happen (again). First of all, we have already lived through a Trump presidency once. It was terrible and scary and awful and demoralizing as fuck, but we can do it again if we absolutely Goddamn fucking have to (once, again, God forbid). Second, you are currently about as safe as you could be in California. Newsom has proven himself to be smart, tough, able to run rings around Republicans, and unwilling to comply with their stupid performative-cruelty directives. He's not a saint or a magician, but you don't need that; you need a shrewd politician able to fight back, and he has proven himself willing and capable of doing that. So as long as he is governor, you're going to be more safe than not, and I'd also like to ask all the shrieking Online Leftists if, should the shit go down, they would rather live in a state with a Democratic governor who will fight Trump 2.0 every step of the way, or a Republican governor who will just roll over and obey. (But that would destroy their BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME talking point, so you know.)

Next of all, even if the Republicans are doing their best impression, America in 2024 isn't Germany in 1934. There are different tools, different ways to fight back, and different awarenesses/social media/visibility factors. I also need everyone to remember that just as Biden can't just sign an executive order and fix everything everywhere, Trump can't just sign an executive order and fuck everything everywhere, just like that with no more discussion ever. He tried that last time, it generally didn't work, and trust me, at least this time nobody is sleeping on the danger he poses. His candidacy in 2016 was dismissed as a long-shot joke that nobody took seriously until it was too late, and for better or worse, people aren't doing that this time. He will be sued instantly, incredibly, and repeatedly with everything his band of wannabe fascists try, and since we have had four years of Biden fixing the courts from where Trump trashed them, that does mean something. There is no scenario where even if he does issue some outrageous order against women, LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, etc (which to be clear, I'm sure he would try) it would just be carried out completely, immediately, and with no feasible way to stop it. Evil is evil, but it is also stupid, clueless, determined to hurt people just for the hell of it without any regard for what is possible or which will be allowed, and there's a lot more grey area in there than just "Trump says something terrible and it's instantly done, the end."

Once again, I'm not going to say that the worst-case scenario is not possible, but I don't think it's likely, and even if that does happen, there are ways for us to survive and fight back (again). Nobody wants it and it should not have to be asked of us due to the utter collapse of the social, civic, political, and intellectual fabric of this country thanks to the TrumpCult, but once again... these people are so loud and dangerous and cruel and stupid because they are in the minority. Etc. etc. polls are garbage, but we did just have an interesting piece of empirical data from the Iowa caucuses. Trump -- in one of the whitest, most rural, most conservative, most religious, most Trump-loving states in the country -- struggled to break 50%. Almost half of a rabid Republican fully-Trumpized electorate, among the diehards sufficiently motivated to get out and caucus in extreme freezing weather, voted for someone else (Haley and DeSantis took about 20% apiece). Now, no, we don't know how that will translate to the general election, and if registered Republicans will flock back to the nominee even if it's Trump, but as almost half of Haley voters said they would vote for Biden if it was a Biden-Trump matchup in the general, there is some sense that Trump is an aberration to their otherwise ironclad party loyalty. Now, Republicans are the fucking worst and nobody should be relying on them to save us; we still need to get out and vote for Democrats with all our might. But Trump is no longer barn-burningly popular even in core Trump heartland, and it'll be interesting to see how things go in future primaries.

My point is: I know the feeling that evil is awful and unstoppable and all-powerful, and will crush our lives and our futures no matter what we do to resist it. I really, really do. But Trump is a terrible candidate, he's running literally only to keep himself out of a long, long prison sentence, and if he had crushed the Iowa caucuses regardless, we might be having a different conversation. However, we need to remember that it is possible, again (God forbid) in the worst scenario, to resist, to live, and to win. Everyone who is motivated to work for a better world will still be here. Everyone who can help you and all of us will still be here. And there are more of us than there are of them. Yes, I do understand the feeling that we need to have contingency plans in place, I do absolutely know that it could get very bad, and all that (as you say, nobody has a crystal ball). But for now, I want you to take a deep breath, try to take this day by day, and remember that this is not a crushing and inevitable future that will sweep over you and destroy you without you (or any other person of good will) having a say in the matter. You still have agency, you still have the ability to protect yourself, and you still have others who will protect you in turn. You're not alone. The bad guys want you to think that, because when you're isolated and terrorized, you're easier to pick off and/or recruit into their cult. But you're not.

In conclusion: "What are we holding onto, Sam?"

[carpetbug]

ML Feline Blue AU Chapter Two: The Pont des Arts

1 • 2 [tw: blood and slightly gory imagery] • 3

ao3

The last time Marinette had felt such paralyzing anxiety as she traveled towards the Pont de Arts was middle school. It was the day she realized she had a crush on Kim, and Socqueline - her best friend at the time, who left Francois’s Dupont at the end of 8th grade - had almost immediately shut down the immature day dream that was their future together. Still, Marinette had made her way to the bridge after school to stare at the locks of all the couples that had been here before her and conjure up sickeningly sweet fake scenarios of her new heartthrob. The craziest thing she had done that day was silently wish that Kim would magically reciprocate her romantic feelings, and still it had felt like she was walking some invisible tightrope, putting her life on the line for some spectacular balancing act she knew she could never pull off. She can still remember the way her hands shook and stomach churned while she perused the locks that decorated the bridge's walls. The fear she felt that day, that heavy stone of discomfort that lodged itself in her stomach, she felt it now all the same. Only this time, instead of feeling like she was merely risking her life, she could have sworn she was marching straight to death's door. And the miniature ladybug creature, this ‘kwami’, was doing little to put her unease to bed.

“You’re not listening, are you Marinette?” the alien-like red bug questioned delicately with a slight inflection to her already syrupy voice. Her eyes softened with guilt when Marinette met her expression with a lost look, lips parted slightly as she struggled to respond.

“I-I’m sorry.. uh.. Tek…?”

“Tikki” the small bug smiled patiently.

“Right. Tikki. I’m sorry Tikki” Marinette sighed and adjusted her hold on the miracle box. What a guardian she would be, she couldn’t even remember this kwamis name. How was she supposed to do.. well, everything else?

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“I died. That old man pushed me into the seine and I died.” Marinette stammered in disbelief as her limbs pushed her away from these freaks of nature without waiting for her brain's command.

“Don’t be scared, Marinette! We’re your friends!” The ladybug themed creature said reassuringly, dropping the intense tone with which she was speaking seconds prior. She, along with all the other small beings, floated effortlessly in the air. “I am Tikki, the kwami of creation. We aren’t going to hurt you, Master”

“Master?” Marinettes throat went bone dry as the words rattled her brain. She was their master? “Oh my god I’ve actually lost my mind.” She chuckled under her breath. The chuckle morphed to a steady laughter, and soon enough she was doubled over in hysterics, hands clutching her sides so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her ribcage. “That OLD man PUSHED me into the SEINE and I DIED!” She shouted in a side-splitting roar of laughter.

“Good job Sugarcube, now she’s having a breakdown.” Marinette heard a much more sour voice taunt. Suddenly what seemed like a million more voices chirped in, each unique in its pitch and pronunciation, and each more desperate to be heard than the last. She could only hear broken sentences and words through the plethora of noise from the kwamis and her own uncontrollable laughter, an occasional ‘We’re doomed!’ and ‘Master Fu!’ catching her ear.

“Just hush, Plagg!” the ladybug scoffed in annoyance. She darted closer to Marinette, small fin-like arm extending to pat her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Tune them out Marinette, you simply need time. Your bravery will surface soon.” She tried to soothe the frantic girl before returning her attention to the other beings. “Everyone, please listen! We can’t do this now, not to her.” Tikki spoke sternly, yet the words hung in the air like a plea. “I.. I’m certain none of us are ready to speak about Master Fu," a dejected tone began to cling to her small voice as she continued “But he wants us to go forward. And he needs us to guide the new guardian”. Marinette looked up as her voice began to catch in her throat, a pang of pity shooting through her unstable heart at the sight of the tears beginning to pool in the small beings eyes.

“Master Fu?” Marinette repeated softly, peeling her hands off her body and standing up from the rough cement platform that offered her safety. With a powerful shudder she became painfully aware that she was still soaked from the seine. Her hands traveled up to her hair, removing the smooth ribbon that held together her right pigtail - the left had come undone in the water. “Is that... was that the old man?” She asked the kwamis with a weary tone, eyes trained on her soggy shoes as her hands wrung out her dark hair of the water still wearing it down. “Why did he-?”

“Throw you in a river?” the sour voice chimed in again. It belonged to the black cat, who was now floating leisurely on his back with a yawn. Marinette was almost certain she could see sharp teeth in the kwamis mouth. Tikki shot him a deathly glare, but he went on. “I’m Plagg, kwami of destruction, lover of cheese” He stated with casual disinterest, as if nothing traumatic had just occurred. “Not his smartest move, I’ll agree. But-” he sat upright and narrowed his eyes, voice taking a more serious tone “-he did what he had to do to keep us all safe.” his long tail flicked, motioning to the other kwamis. “That includes you.”

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“I was telling you about the kwamis, '' Tikki chirped, following by her guardian's side while levitating in the air. Marinette nodded, quickly glancing up to check what street they had reached, then darting her eyes back down to the wooden box she had hugged to her chest. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the bugs' words, her mind occupied only with thoughts of Master Fu. Despite the kwamis, and the freezing water that seems to have seeped into her bones, and the distressed voices in her head yelling at her that she was alone in this, Marinette couldn’t shake the idea that this man was still alive. He would be waiting at the Pont de Arts, ready to retrieve his miracle box and kwamis, and he'd reassure her that she would never have to worry about any of this miraculous nonsense ever again. Marinette wasn’t going to find his body. She wouldn’t.

“There's nineteen kwamis in all, but two of us are missing. Nooro and Duusu are the kwamis of transmi-”

“Tikki, I’m- I can’t-” Marinette bit her tongue as she fought to find the right words.

“What is it Marinette?”

“I’m sorry but I just can’t talk about this with you. It’s just… too much” Marinette mumbled, wishing the earth would open up beneath her and swallow her whole. “Can’t this Master Fu just explain things to me when we find him?”

Tikki blinked in surprise and remained silent for a few seconds. Then, she nodded and feigned a weak smile. “Of course Marinette. If we find Master Fu he will explain everything” she reassured.

Marinette nodded absentmindedly, taking another brief glimpse at the street signs and sighing in relief at seeing they were close to their destination. Suddenly this all felt like some sort of fever dream, like she would go home and sleep tonight then wake up in the morning with nothing changed. Except maybe she would always think about being thrown in the seine, the cold and brutal water that had seeped through her skin, leaving her fingertips wrinkled and pruny against the wood of the miracle box. And sure, it might feel real enough that her knees still wobble a bit as she walks, but everyone has horrible nightmares sometimes - right?

“Marinette”

“One second, Tikki” she stopped the kwami, still stuck in her train of thought.

“Marinette!” Tikki had paused, and Marinette turned her head to see the small red kwami floating, arm extended to point at the bridge that suddenly seemed to appear in front of them. When had they gotten here?

“Oh. Great, we’re here! Let’s find this Fu-Man and let me get home so I can go to bed and forget all about this.” She adjusted her hold on the box and began to cross the wide bridge when Tikki darted in front of her with urgency.

“Wait! Master, I must tell you, thi-”

“Sorry, but please just call me Marinette.”

Tikki smiled and continued “Marinette, I have to quickly warn you that- even we kwamis are not sure of the lengths this villain is willing to go. We do not know if he acts with mercy, so this may be something you don’t want to see. If you’d like, I can go ahead without you and see for myself then come back?”

Marinette scrunched her nose as she thought for a few moments. Eventually she shook her head and smiled- a genuine and kind smile that made Tikkis heart ache. “No need, I’ll come with you. You’ve been here for me during all this, so I want to be here for you until you’re back in good hands” she promised.

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“He was being chased?” Marinette questioned, reeling from the information the cat kwami had just dumped over her head like cold water. Fu had been pursued by some unknown antagonist for several weeks, until they eventually found and attacked the guardian. Marinette had only been an innocent bystander, a stranger in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a helping hand when Fu was at his most desperate for any kind of savior. She was the only way to get the miracle box out of the villains' reach in such a short amount of time. And the seine had been the only way to get her out of danger.

“More like hunted” Plagg sneered in response and crossed his arms

“Plagg, you're scaring her!”

“She should be scared!”

While the black and red kwami hissed at each other, the girl's head was spinning, overwhelmed with this new world she was suddenly a part of. There were so many questions running through her mind, all begging to be answered. But the most desperate one came first “Can we go back to the Pont des Arts?” She asked softly, interrupting their argument.

Plaggs expression widened in shock, and he was about to protest when Tikki stopped him. “Good idea, I’ll have all the kwamis return to the miracle box.”

“Well, wait-” she stopped her “Will you stay with me? I would feel a bit better if I had someone more informed by my side”

The red bug smiled and nodded, still ignoring the bewildered look from the cat. Before he could say anymore, she turned back to the kwamis, leaving him grumbling and following after her.

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“God. It’s already three a.m, papa is going to be awake and getting started in the bakery soon.” Marinette muttered to herself while checking the time, her and Tikki moving at a slow pace across the bridge. It was dark, the moon providing the majority of the lighting cast down on them. And, it was almost entirely silent. Save for the constant rushing of the water beneath the bridge -the sound was making her hands begin to shake all over again-, and the occasional distant hum of a car passing nearby.

“A bakery?” Tikki whispered in response.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “My parents own a bakery. ‘Tom and Sabines’.” Her hands came together then spread like she was forming a rainbow in the air as she spoke, adding a loving touch to the simple name. Tikki gave a light giggle.

“Sounds amazing! What kind of sweets do they make?” the red bug questioned before suddenly gasping, “Do they make cookies?! I haven’t had a chocolate chip cookie in so long!”

Marinette was taken back by the kwamis sudden eagerness for one of the simplest sweets their bakery had to offer, but she couldn’t help but give an entertained laugh. “We make all kinds of cookies. Snickerdoodle, peanut butter, red velvet, oatmeal raisin, -”

“Yuck.”

“Don’t you dare say that about oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“Get to the good stuff!”

She stuck her tongue out teasingly at the kwami before continuing, “chocolate chip, chocolate chunks, and like a billion other ones I'm forgetting. Give or take seasonal and custom flavors my dad makes from time to time, too.” When she looked up, Marinette swore a line of drool was trailing from Tikkis mouth, but as soon as she had noticed it the bug was in her face in excitement once again.

“Wow!” Tikki exclaimed. “I can’t wait to try them.”

“How long has it been since you last had a cookie?” she asked. Marinette wondered what parts of human life the kwamis knew of and took part in, given the ‘secrecy’ about their existence. They were familiar enough to have opinions on cookie flavors, apparently.

“Oh, I'm not sure. I haven’t had a holder in a few decades, though I have left the miracle box during that time, - Marinette? Are you not listening again?”

Almost as soon as the kwami had started talking, Marinette had frozen her stare on something ahead of them, and she seemed a million worlds away. Tikki turned to look and her heart dropped.

Blood soaked into the wood underfoot, leaving a dark stain that seemed pure black in the night time. More sat in small pools and splatters, some spraying across the lock decorations and steadily drip-drip-dripping into the surface below. The longer she stared the more she realized the Pont des Arts would now always feel like it had been smeared with death. It was all too fresh, like someone had drained the old man of all his blood and used it like paint, spreading the viscous liquid on any surface they could. It seemed like both an introduction, and parting gift. The display was left with intent, the predator that had gotten Fu was leaving a warning for whoever tried to come to his rescue. It said ‘I’m here, look what I am capable of. Look at everything I did. Look at what I’m willing to do.’

Marinette took a step back, mouth agape as she realized breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. Her blood pounded in her ears, droning out the seemingly fraught help Tikki was trying to provide the panicked girl. Another step back and her legs buckled, dropping her directly into the glistening pools of gore. Her hands clenched into fists, now stained a dark red as she kneeled in the blood, and she panted in desperate need for air. It seemed to hang in the air now, the metallic tang filling her mouth and nose.

“Marinette!”

The screech - almost directly in her ear - snapped her attention back to the ladybug creature, whose voice was feverish with alarm. “Tikki..” she breathed, still struggling to keep from hyperventilating. “Tikki, this is him, isn’t it?” Marinette brought her hands up, now holding them raised in the air to shine in the moonlight. The crimson liquid trickled from her palm to her wrist, then down her elbow and back to the bridge. “This is Master Fu?” the tears began to fall down her cheeks now, the reality setting in. She was the guardian. She was alone.

“You need to get home.”

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Marinette gets home, soaked (though no longer bloody, thanks to an alley hose she passed on her walk), and exhausted. Her breathing still awkward and unbalanced, lungs aching from whatever water she took in from the seine. Her emotions bubble inside her, threatening to spill over from her eyes once again. It was bad enough you could tell she had been crying already, she didn’t need her parents to see her in the act. Tikki rested on her shoulder, tucked neatly into her hair as they approached the bakery.

“Home sweet home” she said, waving her hands with pretend enthusiasm as she tried to revive the playful energy they had earlier. Instead her voice felt deflated and hollow. Her hands reached for the doorknob, shaking slightly as they hovered above it.

“Do you not want to go in?”

“Its not that.”

“Marinette. You can talk to me”

Marinette took a deep breath. “I can’t hide all this from my parents. Not yet, at least. If I go inside now and they’re awake, they'll know I was outside then they’ll see I was crying and I’m terrible at hiding things from my maman so one word from her and I’ll instantly spill everything that happened and then they-”

“Slow, Marinette. Is there any way you can sneak in?”

“Only through a window or my balcony, both of which I definitely can't reach from down here” she huffed, the puff of breath blowing through her still damp bangs that hung across her face. She was about to grit her teeth and accept the inevitable interrogation her parents would give when Tikki spoke again.

“I can fix that.” the kwami gave a sweet smile before phasing seamlessly through the wood of the miracle box and returning with a small case in her arms. “These are the miraculous of the ladybug. If you put on these earrings and say ‘Spots On’, you'll transform and be able to get to your balcony undetected.”

Marinette hesitated, then reached for the box and opened the lid to peek at the miraculous. Inside were two round, red earrings each with five small spots, which she carefully plucked from their resting places. They went through her ears effortlessly and lacked the weight that many earrings came with. “Please don’t tell me this is going to hurt” she wheezed, eyes drooping with sleep.

“Definitely not.” Tikki reassured quickly. “When you’re inside just say ‘Spots Off’ to drop the transformation.”

“Well… spots on?”

Tikki flew through the air, this time as if she was being pulled by some invisible force - one coming from the earrings. Her vision exploded with pink as bubbling, glowing masses appeared out of thin air and swarmed onto her body. She held her breath and pressed her eyes closed, still awaiting a sting or ache to overtake her body despite Tikkis reassurance. Instead the magical clouds felt light and tingly on her skin as they passed over her from head to toe.

The buzz came to a stop in a few moments which Marinette took as a cue to open her eyes. Nothing around her had changed, she was still standing outside the bakery clutching the miracle box, only now she was dressed in a sleek red and black spotted suit from neck to toe. She was a ladybug.

Marinettes breathing hitched in her chest as she ran her gloved hand across the material, then up to her face where she felt the grooves of a mask across her eyes. Built in secret identity, cool. She felt refreshed, the soreness in her legs was now just a weak discomfort. She took a relieved breath, and slowly stretched her limbs as she gathered her bearings. A yoyo rested on her hip, also a solid red with five black spots like the earrings, but with the same honeycomb texturing of her suit.

“A yoyo? I’m going to… yoyo to my room?” she mumbled to herself as she gave it a few experimental tosses. Looking up, she took a few breaths and prepared herself. She took a step back and threw the yo-yo towards a neighboring roof, then gave a slight tug when it had wrapped around some solid object. It pulled her effortlessly from the ground, propelling her upwards while she struggled, airborne, like a fish out of water. In moments she landed, almost entirely flat on her face, on the spine of the rooftop.

It took a minute for Marinette to figure out her next step, which ended up being just to drop from the roof to her balcony. It had seemed much more complicated in her head, like she would have to be some ninja, hiding in the shadows. But she had left the trapdoor to her room unlocked, so it had required no more effort than opening a door. She landed softly on her bed, and subsequently threw herself back onto her blankets with an exasperated sigh.

“Spots off” she mumbled, already fighting the alluring call of sleep. Another flash of the magic light and the suit was gone, leaving Tikki in its place. She looked around, observing her new environment before turning back to Marinette.

“Home sweet home” She echoed the previous statement, then burrowed into the crook of Marinettes elbow as the girl groggily put herself to bed. With the miracle box held firmly in her grip, and the deep ache slowly returning to her muscles as the magic of the miraculous wore off, she mumbled a barely coherent goodnight to Tikki and let herself fall into the comfort of sleep.

[power-handmaiden]

what I want to (re?)gain from reading all these tinglers.

Long ass personal ramble below because this is my blog where I ramble about things now

I used to draw all the time and even longer ago I used to write and at some point I just stopped because I got hung up on whether I was "good" at these things things or whether it was a waste of my time creating such "trivial" things rather than art with "meaning" or maybe of I should be spending my time on more "useful" skills. Why write if you're just going to write gay fanfiction? But when I tried more "serious" things to "develop my skills" and also do things like proofread and edit, it just wasn't fun anymore and the hobby was dropped. Drawing lasted longer and I never dropped it so completely but I think smartphones put a damper on it. Once we all got little Google machines in our pockets I was never just out somewhere doodling freely, there was always the option to look up a reference, to draw the thing Correctly, and then time would pass where I was trying to find a picture of a ram's horns at just the right angle, and my number at the DMV would be called or whatever else I was waiting for would demand my attention and I would never even set my pencil to paper in these moments when I used to doodle.

I also felt like I could never express sexual ideas as much as I wanted to because of the "quality" of my work. Making "bad" art was one thing, everyone in the learning process does that, but sharing "bad" sexual art? Well, everyone on the internet forums I frequented was *justified* in reposting their art to mock them and linking to their online galleries for passersby to point and laugh personally, I thought at the time. How dare they be horny and express it in an appropriate adults-only space without mastering their craft first!

There's a lot holding me back. I deeply miss drawing and writing. I miss how freely I used to be able to just do them without the mental block telling me I need to run certain steps for Quality when I never did intend to do these creative things as a profession or anything?

Why is it so easy to sit down and "waste time" playing a video game or scrolling the internet, but so hard to spend the same amount of time drawing something for fun?

here's where Chuck Tingle comes in. He is someone who just DOES IT. This is the writing of someone who is not overthinking the process like I am when I become too paralyzed to create. And, I cannot stress this enough. IT'S SO GOOD. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. So much fun, joyful art has come from a process that I had convinced myself was something to be reined in and feared. The free act of creation that I'd convinced myself was nothing if I didn't learn to refine it into something "respectable". Ideas that would definitely not have passed a committee vote but make the process of reading all these stories one after another so exciting.

Even when I hit the occasional one like today that doesn't hit well anymore, it's evidence of someone who was creating from the heart, in the moment. Weirdly, they make me feel that yearning even stronger, with the knowledge that I know I'll love future stories.

I still haven't gotten there yet but I hope the love I find in these stories eventually breaks down the mental walls I've built and makes me feel free again to DRAW SOME GODDAMN LESBIAN FURRIES.

[reasonsforhope]

I'd love to ask you (and any of your followers who might feel inclined to share opinions) how you feel about the ethics/just plain sensibleness of having children in this uncertain world. I would deeply love to have and raise children, but my fear of the future and uncertainty about the world I would be bringing them into is paralyzing. I am extremely afraid of creating a human life, only for them to have to suffer in an unhappy/unsafe/undesirable world. Do you have hope for the world children born today (or in the next 5 years) will grow up and live in?

Open question for followers who would like to answer!

Personally, I do have hope for children born today. I think there will be a lot of upheaval, but we have been improving things so quickly on climate (in the past 5 years mostly) and genuinely massive improvements in life expectancy and quality of life in most of the developing world (mostly the past 23 years). I think that there's a real chance that the future, in 50 to 70 years, will look better than any of us still dare to dream.

That said... it's by no means guaranteed. And I think whether it's ethical to bring children into this world now is a very real question.

I posted a really long and incisive New York Times exposé about an hour ago, and this quote is much of its thesis:

"We are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse."

Ten years ago, fifteen years ago, preventing our own extinction looked near impossible. Now? "We have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years." (same exposé)

On the one hand, if we can do that, what will we be capable of once we really get going on climate change?

On the other hand, even if we're not totally doomed anymore, it's going to be an incredibly stressful world to be born into, with a lot of chaos and challenges we should never have had to face, and there's no way to know how much we will manage to do.

Honestly, though? Part of the reason I can be more optimistic about this is because I definitely don't plan to have kids anyway.

Which means that I don't HAVE to find the right answer to that question. I get off easy there, I honestly think. I'm really, really glad I that no one's life is resting on whether I guess right.

I know so many people who are struggling with this, I actually wonder if adoption will get more popular because of this very question.

More specifically, here's the advice I'd give: wait. Basically all of the biggest climate goals and climate commitments out there right now come due in 2030.

I genuinely think that in 2030, we will have a much, much better idea of what our future is going to look like - and whether it's a world we want to bring a child into.

And I hope so deeply that we will all be amazed.

So, followers and everyone else on this hellsite: What do you think?

[snowy-wife]

RRRRRRGGGGG HAPPY MOTHERFUCKIN ANNIVERSARY ERIC. I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. I know I have said it before but I have to say it again, I cannot believe Eric wants to be with me and likes me. I swear to god he is lying but I am really so happy and thankfully he likes me. I've always thought he would hate my guts and entire being because of how I am. Instead he likes my craziness and weirdness. He accepts me for who I am and calls me his "Creepy girl", he even calls me his "Cemetery girl" now after I showed him Cemetery Girl by ICP. Even though he's not keen on me being bisexual and into girls he still accepts me for who I am and loves me for me. Yes he can be a little homophobic but thankfully he doesn't go on rants about it and he has pushed it out of his mind, he told me "You're with me and like boys more so I don't care. Just don't talk about girls around me like that" and honestly, I respect his boundaries with that and I've always kept my mouth shut. I've said a girl is pretty but I've tried not saying things that would make him uncomfy. I also just have a disgustingly huge irrational fear of him hating me and it's been drilled into my head since I was like 5 or 6 years old. My love is so deep and strong for him it had me paralyzed as a kid when it came to him. I had to ignore his existence and act like I never loved or liked him, but it was so obvious I did and do. I just can't believe it's our anniversary. I really do love him so much. I love him so deeply and truly and it drives me insane. It makes me hurt myself and I hate it but I also love it because I love him so much that not only would I destory the world for him I would destory myself if he wanted. I would destory existence itself if he wanted. I also love how he is so eager to learn stuff about witchcraft and wants to constantly help out. He's always asking if I'm gonna do a spell or if my mom is, he's always so open and excited to learn about it and it makes me so happy. I don't know how many times I've cried because of how greatful I am I have someone I can share it with. He loves all the witchy and spirit stuff. Hell he loves being dead and being a spirit, he's told me it's cool and he really enjoys it but he also doesn't like being dead because he misses his mom and everything. He is so sweet and kind and loving and caring and I love it. I love how sensitive he is because he truly is a great lover and spouse. I love him so much more than what I can even grasp, what anyone can even grasp. I wanna talk about how much I love him but I can't find the words I just want to rant about how much I love him and talk about him– Like, I so very much love how he wants a traditional marriage with me and he wants me to be his house wife. He picked out some dresses for me to buy / make sometime and I am so impatient and eager to buy / make them. I want to wear them for him so bad. I love how we both love history, well he only likes WW2, and the macabre and we can just sit there for hours on end talking about Nazi Germany and everythig. We can sit there for hours and talk about cannibalism and murder and rape and it's so fucked up but time flies by so fast. I know one time we sat there talking about cannibalism and what the consistency and texture of an eyeball would be and then we got to talking about Necrophilia versus Spectrophilia when it came to our relationship. I just...... I love how I can freely talk about the stuff I love with him without him judging and actively participating in the conversation. I love how dear he is to me. He tries so much to help me when I'm upset and I appreciate it so much. I love him indefintely and I will always be his. Even when nothing is left to be anything. I will always be his girl. In the past, in this here present, and in the future. In every life. Every existence. Every universe. Every reality. Every species. We will always be each others and I will always be his. In fiction and non fiction. In life and death. I actually started crying while writing this because of how much I love him.

[sophieinwonderland]

i hope you get genuine help. living like this believing that you're like some savior for the endogenic community cannot be healthy and receiving death threats and whatever else screws up your mentality and is probably just pushing you further into your savior complex. please genuinely go to therapy. i am saying this out of the best intentions for you your account is starting to look like a manic and delusional spiral without the short time in between posts due to mania.

i know i'm not gonna change your endogenic views but please. therapy for yourself. it can't have been healthy (assuming your plurality is real, i personally don't believe it but you do) to have been suppressed for that long therapy for that is needed too if this isn't an elaborate prank/hoax account

I wasn't "suppressed."

Do you think that when I realized I existed and was my own person, we didn't explore all the possibilities?

We read so much about DID and schizophrenia early on because we wanted to explore everything.

In the three years since, there have been no indicators of DID. No past trauma rearing its head, no secret trauma responses. No memories I've sealed away in the darkness of my mind.

I've looked into it. I bet I've read far more papers about dissociative disorders to understand them than you have.

I'm not someone who will just accept the first possibility I'm given. I wanted to UNDERSTAND what I was, and I put in the work to do so. That's how I know I don't have a dissociative disorder.

Also, I'm not interested in being a savior to the endogenic community.

I'm just interested in pushing progress forward as much as I can from where I am. And I realize that's actually pretty limited when I'm acting from Tumblr with only a couple thousand followers. Yes, that's a lot for a system blog on tumblr, but it's nothing next to what TikTokers are able to accumulate.

If I was going to be a savior, I would be brave enough to expand to a large platform instead of being paralyzed by fear of my voice being heard

I do my best to be as loud as I can, but I'm smart enough to know how limited my reach actually is here, even if I try my best to magnify it as much as possible.

I'm one person. (Me, specifically. The rest of my system doesn't actually care about syscourse and some have said I spend too much time on it. *glance at Abby*) I'm not able to change the world on my own. I want to light a spark in people that inspires them. But really, my goal from the beginning was hopefully inspiring people who could be better than I am and do the things that I know I can't.

Which... I guess is another reason I don't actually care about my reputation that much, and have even done things intentionally to put dynamite on the pedestal some people have placed me on. I never intended to be an actual leader of the endogenic community. And the fact that I'm terrible at working with other people means I make a pretty awful one.

I'm not here to be a savior. I'm a propagandist. (In a neutral way because not all propaganda is inherently bad.) I have a message that I think will make the world a better place for plurals and I do my best to spread that. Because that's all I can do. It's the specialized role that I think I'm good at.

And maybe with that, I can inspire other people who could be the actual saviors and community leaders we need to lead us into a plural future. But I know I won't be it.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 44 Ambassador's Mansion Mystery

I have a better idea of what MiniMurdle is gonna be now

It begins with the twins longing to solve their own mysteries and become 'just as famous as Logico', so they begin writing a book where 'everyone is as small as them'. Umber joins in to help write, and the series is more or less the kiddos doing a roleplay together as it shows what's happening in their book

And Antoduardo's there too.

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Logico gets a letter from the nefarious President White. As it turns out, you know where else is apparently by the Bahamas?

Drakonia.

And he doesn’t want to go…

IRRATINO: Logico, when I made it to Drakonia, all I saw was a city in flames. I never got to see it for myself!

Logico grimaces. Is it worth going back there just for Irratino? He looks back at him and decides - yes it is.

As they fly there (by zeppelin, of course), Logico thinks about the first season. He thinks of how he was betrayed by Lady Violet, and how unnaturally quickly the Lord Violet storyline came to an end. And he can’t erase from his mind Marble’s cryptic warning, and how it could relate to Deacon Verdigris’ freakout.

“The more you knew, the more you’d want to stay away.”

And Champagne threatening to bring the war to the mainland? This could mean- Oh look they’re here. Time flies when you’re flippin’ out. The Oxymorons were invited to an ambassador’s mansion to settle a debate over Free Drakonia. And while murder is his game, Logico has never been adept at politics. And unsurprisingly, neither is Irratino. White and Porpoise stare at them aggressively as they enter, and Bluski seems to also be there. Not even just seems to - he is, in fact, there.

LOGICO: H…Hello… IRRATINO: I may not be the best at politics, but I am GREAT with debate! What do you need to settle? WHITE: We didn’t bring you here to settle a debate. We brought you here because the ambassador, whose house we are in, is suddenly dead.

Logico isn’t too worried about the murder. But he is worried about the location. He’s still not sure what it is about Drakonia that scarred him, but whatever it was cut deep. Maybe he just has a fear of war.

Speaking of which, a gun mounted on the wall has a plaque underneath. “Fired the silver bullet that started the Drakonian Civil War.” The thought makes him so uncomfortable. The daily death of background humans was easy to get used to, but real people killing each other? Losing the only thing they still have in this terrible and murderous world?

He has to snap out of it as the debate between Porpoise and White is getting more severe. So much so, in fact, that White suddenly bites Porpoise’s tusk! The whale wails in pain, and thrusts the wolf to the ground, bloodying her mouth.

IRRATINO: What is happening?? LOGICO: …it’s happening to them… IRRATINO: WHAT’S happening to them?!

The animals brawl, until finally after much injury, Porpoise backs down. White sits back in her chair like nothing happened, although her mouth is injured and her clothes are torn. Logico is paralyzed. 

Irratino quickly calls the Institute to ask what this strange behavior could mean. They don’t have an answer, but after the psychics scry, they can help find who did the initial murder. Unsurprisingly, it’s the guy who was just standing around the whole time.

BLUSKI: Now the Convocation of Countries will be forced to recognize Free Drakonia! All glory to the Reds! Freedom to all oppressed people everywhere!

Logico sighs. That doesn’t sound that bad. 

IRRATINO: You know, you could say the most oppressed people in the world are the ones who keep getting murdered. BLUSKI: Hey, hey! I don’t care about the St. Lupinian babble about the sanctity of ‘human’ life!

Logico forgot about St. Lupine. Who are they? What do they want? And what could their presence mean in the future…

IRRATINO: Come on. Let’s go home, and get tacos. LOGICO: …okay. <3

The end!

Yay drama <3 For one episode, at least.

As I was editing this, this came in the mail!! My official card! And the chessboxing champion pin!! AND A TEENY TINY PENCIL!!!

Gotta find a safe place for these because there's no way I'm gonna lose them

I'M SO HAPPY OMG

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[wishcamper]

Was in a silly goofy mood and decided to write a bonus chapter of the meeting between Feyre, Rhys, and Tamlin from my long-form WIP A Court of Vice and Victors. You can read it here or on ao3!

Spoilers for up through chapter 25

Virtue and Vindication

Tamlin,

I know I’m probably the last person you ever expect or even want to hear from, but I’m writing to you now to ask for your help.

I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m currently pregnant and there are some complications with the baby due to his Illyrian heritage. We can ensure his safety by transforming me into an Illyrian form, which is why I’m calling on you. I haven’t been able to transform since I conceived and hoped you would be willing to assist me. 

I know I don’t have any credit for favors, but my son is innocent in all of this. The Tamlin I once knew would never let an innocent suffer if he could help it. I believe your heart is good deep down. I hope you know mine is too.

Please reply soon.

Sincerely,

Feyre

To the High Lord of Spring,

By now you have likely received my mate’s letter. She asked me not to write to you, but I know she will not stress how dire her situation is. So I will be blunt: without your help, Feyre will die. Our son will likely die as well.

On my honor as a male, I will give or do anything you ask of me if you help me save them. Whatever affection we once held for each other, I beg of you to remember it now.

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court

Feyre,

Regardless of your credit, or lack thereof, you are right that your child is innocent. I am therefore willing to consider your request.

We will meet in one week’s time to discuss terms. I have sent the location with my reply to Rhysand’s letter. 

Have Lucien accompany you, I have matters to discuss with him as well.

Tamlin

PS: Your penmanship has greatly improved since we last corresponded. Thought you’d care to know.

Rhysand,

Your words do not move me, nor does your false contrition, but I will take the bargain you offer. That makes two debts you now owe me, the prior for saving your life. This, should you agree, will discharge one.

My terms are these: you are to work in service of the Spring Court until your child is born. You are to obey all orders given and complete any task assigned without protest and to the fullest extent of your abilities. 

I will not engage in negotiation. This offer is final and finite.

Remember that I saved your life. Come in good faith, and I shall as well.

Tamlin

The location Tamlin sent was close to the village where she grew up, and it staggered Feyre when she realized that only three years ago she’d ventured into these woods in search of game and loosed an arrow that changed the course of her life.

Of all their lives, really. Mostly in good ways, though Nesta might disagree. 

It was hard to remember that shivering girl she’d been, and Feyre felt a flutter in her stomach of the baby turning over, active in response to the quickening pace of her heart. Rhys gripped her hand harder as if he could feel it, too, and they picked their way through the forest in silence with Lucien at their heels. The weight of the meeting hung over their heads like the branches laden with thick ice above them, and Feyre tried to ignore the ones that had snapped and fallen under all that strain.

Because she couldn’t succumb, she told herself. Letting the fear overwhelm her would be paralyzing, make her useless - she had to keep forging ahead toward the future she knew was possible, the life that grew within.

“Watch your step, darling,” Rhys murmured, and he guided her over a particularly icy patch of ground. Feyre saw their faces reflected in it when she looked down to place her feet, the hard slash of her mate’s brow, the worry varnishing her own.

But before she could think too hard about what it all meant, how they’d gotten here, there he was.

Tamlin looked better than the last time she’d seen him in Rhys’ memory, once-lank hair clean and pulled back from his face, brown leather hunting boots gleaming in the weak morning sun. The smell of impending snow crackled in the air and she breathed deeply, trying to freeze the panic that leapt into her throat at the sight of him.

“Tamlin, you look well,” Lucien said with a note of surprise, russet eye softening with something like pride. “Vassa said she’d seen you, but human eyesight and all.”

Feyre guessed they’d made up at some point over the summer - Lucien had returned once from corresponding with Jurian and the mortal queen smelling faintly of roses, a lightness about him that was new. It confused her how they could come back from such violence between them, how Lucien could find it in himself to forgive.

“I accept your terms. Now let’s be done with this cursed business,” Rhys snarled, impatient. Tamlin scanned him, lip curling.

“You speak quite boldly for someone begging for help on bended knee.”

Feyre foresaw the ways this could spiral and slid a hand down her mate’s forearm, prying open the clenched fist at his side. “Can you give us a moment?”

“Feyre, darling -”

“Rhys.” She gripped him harder, ignoring the looks Lucien and Tamlin darted between them. “We do this my way.” 

Rhys let out a shuddering sigh. Power rumbled as he regarded Tamlin, the specter of wings rising above his shoulders. “If you lay a hand on her -”

Tamlin opened his mouth to retort but Feyre cut them both off, speaking low to Rhys “I’m fine, I can take care of myself.”

Yet as Feyre watched Rhys and Lucien’s backs retreating through the forest, the doubt began to creep in, the wind-sharp dread that sliced through her, goosebumps dappling her skin beneath the leathers.

So often she pushed those feelings of fear out of her awareness - the spikes of panic at Mor’s red dresses, the suffocation of a windowless room. When Rhys’ breathing would get too quiet in the night. She’d gotten so good at ignoring how the past haunted her, but now the fear lived all around her, inside her, inescapable.

Standing alone here with Tamlin, the tidal wave threatened to break over her, untended terror pouring forth all at once. The wind kicked up, ice encrusted branches crashing against one another.

Tamlin seemed to sense her fear, or scent it, probably, and moved away to sling his moss-colored cloak over a branch. “So you need to be transformed.”

“Yes.” The return to business steadied her, the task centering. “I need to take a fully Illyrian form so my body can handle the killing power. Right now it’s poisoning me.”

“I’d heard Illyrian magic is unique in that regard. Very well. Stand just there, if you will.”

“But the wings need to be clipped.”

The cracked siphon throbbed hotly where it lay against her chest beneath the leathers. Tamlin faltered.

“I refuse.”

“Please. It’s a condition of someone else who’s helping me. It has to be that way.”

He sighed, and she saw the weariness hanging off him, the stress of helping her perhaps coming at a higher cost than she'd imagined. “Seems you’re just as liberal with your bargains as you’ve always been. Fine then. Remain still.”

The secret lurched within her stomach, the death pact with her mate no one knew of, that she’d made before - 

But now wasn’t the time.

A hot, prickly sensation spread across her back and down her limbs, over the crown of her head. Yellow light flared, and Feyre closed her eyes against it, focusing on the rabbit-quick beat of the baby’s heart as Madja taught her. She tried to banish the memory of the healer’s horror when she realized the depth of Feyre’s naivety, her ignorance of the danger, and whispered words of comfort and safety to her son in her mind.

When the familiar weight of wings finally settled on her shoulders, Feyre opened her eyes to find Tamlin pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“There. Now go and haunt someone else, I implore you.”

Something like betrayal surged within her, a new current of power singing through her blood that rushed and raged, heating her cheeks. “Why help if you can’t stand us? Do you still hate me after all this time?”

Tamlin didn’t rise to the bait, and a part of her hated him for it as he sighed again, saying, “Because I have wrongs to atone for. And it’s clear nothing I do will change your esteem of me, so I lose nothing by doing what is right.” He regarded her then with a strange expression on his face, and the past seemed to stretch between them, jagged and unforgiving. “What wounded me most was not that you left. It was that you were so quick to believe the worst of me.”

“You allied with Hybern,” Feyre spat.

“I believed my fiance was being mind-controlled and assaulted.”

“You just can’t stand that I didn’t choose you.”

He snarled at that and the anger continued to build between them, some dark energy that lived only between failed lovers. Feyre found herself stomping toward him and Tamlin prowled across the clearing at the same time until they were within striking distance. She could see a vein popping in his forehead and almost hoped Rhys had ignored her wishes and was waiting nearby, ready to defend her against the ugly words, the audacity of Tamlin’s offense. 

“What I can’t stand is that you insist on your own innocence with no regard for the lives you willingly destroyed when you betrayed me and dismantled my court.” Tamlin’s eyes were wild, claws protruding from his knuckles. “There are families still without homes, without reliable sources of food save for the generosity of Summer. And you delighted in ruining me at their expense. You mocked me with your so-called Court of Dreams as my people suffered.”

Even as her pride roared in protest, Feyre felt the doubt sneak into her mind. What happened in Spring was Tamlin’s fault, Rhys had assured her, but she couldn’t miss the flash of hurt on Tamlin’s face, the singular devastation of betrayal by those you love the most.

Her memory jolted back to the river house, Rhys’ wild eyes as he screamed at Nesta. She’d nearly choked on her own sobs then, doubled over in Azriel’s arms, and her mate’s motives for concealing the truth were benevolent. She couldn’t imagine if he’d been out to hurt or control her.. But no, there was no use trying to undo something already done.

Feyre took a step back, wrapped an arm beneath her belly to relieve the pressure on her already aching back. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t need to rehash the past, there’s nothing there for either of us.”

Tamlin smiled bitterly, the wind whipping his straw-colored hair about his face. “I forget how young you are until you say things like that. We have all left paths of destruction in our wake. Have you the courage to look backward?”

That tidal wave loomed again, full of secrets and lies, painful rememberings. Feyre found herself weak-kneed and moved to sit on a log but thought better of it, not wanting to appear vulnerable.

“I don’t think I can right now. I might just sit down and never get up,” she said, and couldn't tell if it was more to herself or him.

“Feyre.” Tamlin’s voice was tinged with concern, and when their eyes connected again she saw the ghost of the old affection, the tenderness they’d once held. “Are you well? Are you safe?”

The accusation made her bristle, but she couldn’t deny the tiredness in her bones, exhausted from the mental calisthenics she’d had to perform these past weeks. Was still performing. ““I can take care of myself. You know that better than anyone.”

Unspoken words drifted between them like the shifting clouds of powdery snow, chill where it met her new wings. It was only now Feyre allowed herself to feel the joint at the top, the limits of their movement as she shook off the flakes. She wondered  how she must've looked to Tamlin when he first saw her, how she must look now - pregnant and clipped, shivering in the woods she'd worked so hard to escape.

“I know that you fought for the freedom of Prythian, and for yourself,” Tamlin said slowly, quiet. “I wonder if you’ve found it.”

Feyre didn‘t respond, couldn’t stand the sympathy, not from him. Not when he’d caged her, cowed her, trussed her up to be a prized breeding mare. Kept her in the dark about the danger in the court, took her choices away. Yet here she was at his mercy once more because Rhys had.. because Rhys..

“If you forge ahead just for the sake of it, you may find yourself somewhere you didn’t intend to. I know that firsthand.” Tamlin plucked his cloak from the branch and drew it back about his shoulders, wind ruffling the vine-embroidered edge. “I wish you luck with your child.”

Numbness blanketed her and she simply nodded. A quick tug to Rhys across the bridge between them had her mate returning to the clearing, Lucien in tow.

“Will you tell me now how you plan to torture me, or shall I wait in suspense?”

The two males stared each other down, but Tamlin’s tone was mild when he replied, “Your vindictiveness cannot see past itself, Rhysand. When all you have is a sword, everyone looks like an opponent." He pointed behind them where the trees thinned out. "Over the hill is a cabin that will be your lodgings. You are to assess the damage to the Wall and repair what you can from the Cauldron’s breach. You are also to deter anyone who attempts to cross from either side.”

Rhys snarled low in his chest, night-dark power looming. “I’m your fucking border patrol?”

“You are the beast in the wood. Lucien will instruct our allied humans to spread word of a dark creature in the forest, and should any be foolish enough to venture closer, you will scare them off.” Feyre heard Rhys make a noise of offense in his throat, and Tamlin looked like he wanted to smirk, though the expression quickly cleared. “You’ve played the villain for years, why stop now? You chose this mask for yourself, Rhysand, not I.”

“Fine. Allow me to accompany my mate safely home first.”

“Return after the solstice, if you wish.”

Rhys’ face remained neutral but a ripple of confusion traveled through the bond, and when Feyre took her mate’s hand the palm was clammy.

They left Lucien with Tamlin to talk and made their way over the ridge to where the little stone cabin was nestled at the edge of the forest. It slumped to one side, roof sloping down harder to the right, patchy shingles that had seen much better days. 

Facing down the door, Rhys braced a hand on the frame, head bowed. “I’m so sorry I failed you, my love. I’m so sorry it’s come to this.”

“Don’t,” Feyre murmured, and her heart felt like it was cracking in two as she rubbed at his back. “It’s worth it if he’s healthy and okay. It’s all worth it.”

He shook his head and pushed open the door, stepped first into the tiny hut that was decades, perhaps centuries out of use. There was a small hearth along one wall littered with twigs and bird droppings, ash-caked stones crumbling along the edges.

Rhys swiped a finger through the thick layer of dust on the small counter, brushing at his clothes as he said, “This is humiliating. For years Tamlin has wanted nothing more than to make me suffer and now I’ve handed him the opportunity myself.”

It rubbed Feyre oddly, his disdain for this shack that looked so like the one where she shivered and wished for more. She heard her own voice from far away, caustic and clipped. "I’m sorry this is so hard for you. It’s not like I’m the one carrying our child or anything. Or that I’m stuck in this body and I don’t even have my mate by my side to help me through the next six months. Ouch.” The baby kicked at her ribs then, right under where the mating bond was aching. 

“I never wanted it to be this way.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” 

Rhys looked away instead of answering and pretended to survey the wood stove, the mishmash of rusted pots and pans. He’d dodged the answer every time she asked so far. I wanted to save you the heartache or it didn’t need to be a problem for both of us, darling. Feyre tugged at the golden thread between them until he looked her in the eyes, star-flecked violet turbulent and shimmering.

“I knew you would choose to die for our child’s sake, and I wouldn’t be able to let you because -”

“How?” she pressed. “How did you know that’s what I’d choose?”

“Because that’s who you are, darling. You would sacrifice everything for those you love.” His expression was soft but there was a nervous sort of energy about him, muscles tense. “That’s what I love about you.”

“Then why not let me be myself? Why try to control me?”

“You know why.”

Her tattoo itched then, the ink of their wartime victory promise. Feyre gave into her exhaustion and sank into a chair at the scrubbed wood table, grooves hidden beneath the accumulated dust.

“We’re about to be parents, and I don’t know if I’ve really thought about what that means yet. Our whole lives are about to change.” The true weight of it settled through her wings, joints aching where they connected to her back. She thought of that faerie who’d died in her arms with his own severed, the hours she’d spent searching for Rhys’ mother and sister’s. “I don’t want to repeat our parent’s mistakes. Your father -”

“My father has nothing to do with this.”

His coldness surprised her, the rumble of power that rattled the cracked cups on the shelf above the sink.

“Your mother and father left you at the same time. Don’t tell me you want that for him.” Rhys’ eyes lingered on her belly, the hand that stroked it bearing their bargain mark. “We can’t be each other’s reason for living anymore. It’s bigger than us now. If it were ever a choice between me and our son, I’d want you to choose him.”

“I - I hope it will never come to that.”

“I do too, but Rhys. We have to be realistic. If the last three years have taught me anything, it’s that there will always be a target on our backs because of who we are. I accept that. I knew what I was signing up for. But you promised me no more lies.”

Her mate looked stricken, and when he knelt before her she felt the sorrow he tried to push down the bond, the hum of nervousness distorting it.

“I can’t live without you, Feyre,” Rhys said, and she tried not to get lost in his eyes, the heat of his body. He took her hand in his own, tattoos pressed together, and placed both atop her belly. “I can’t lose you. I can’t help that I would burn down the world to keep you safe, that I would protect you from anyone, including yourself.”

It sounded lovely if she didn’t think about it too long, romantic and devoted and blessed, a gift from a higher power, to be cherished so fully and deeply. Once it had been a balm to her lonely heart, salvation after so long on her own. But when Feyre heard the words now, let herself really hear them, a chill crept up her spine.

“So you’d lock me up too if it was for my own good?”

Rhys didn’t answer.

And the wave broke over her at last in that silence, the onslaught of memories, the falsehoods, the evasiveness. In her mind she saw the locked manor door, the underground cell, the Weaver’s chimney, the fury in his face when he raged at Nesta, Tamlin’s fury when he exploded the study..

“You tell me I have a choice, but you never give it to me when it actually means something. When I might make a different one than you.”

“That’s not true -”

“You lied about us being mates, and who you were Under the Mountain, and I understood that. Then you used me as bait for the Attor without telling me, made me get this fucking ring, all so I would get stronger. Which I did so I thought okay, it was worth it.” Feyre felt her throat going dry, the words mealy and rotten in her mouth, an overripe fruit. “And then I told myself it was necessary for the war, when you tricked Tarquin and went behind Mor’s back with Kier and Eris, when you tried to sacrifice yourself. But then you lied about this, too, after promising me. You promised me .” Tears crested her lower lids, slid hot down her cheeks. “But maybe I’m the fool, because maybe this is just who you are and I’ve been too blind to see it.”

Rhys was gaping at her, gripping her hand hard and shoving at her side of the bond. For a moment Feyre feared he’d break into her mind as he had those years ago, make her believe this was all okay. And then an even worse moment, when for the briefest flash she wanted him to, wished to go back to that time before she saw this side of his face, this cracked facet of their love she once thought a pristine jewel. 

“While you’re down here, try to remember you’re doing this for our son,” she said before meaning to, pushing to her feet. “That loving him and protecting him is loving me. Because you’re right, I would choose him over myself. I’d choose him over you. I think that’s what being a parent is. It has to be.”

She tried to send it through the bond, all the things she didn’t know how to say, her anger, her terror, her love. The hours she’d spent alone as a child, the rejection of her mother, the indifference of her father. Let him feel the full onslaught of that tidal wave, to see her pain as something full and real and alive. Worthy. Then let him see their son, feel how she loved him from that very moment, how she could never let go.

“I release you from your bargain,” she said. “I don’t want you to follow me into death. I want you to live for our son. And for yourself. I want that for me, too.”

Feyre shut down that link between them and left the cabin before Rhys could respond, felt the ink burn on her hand as she stepped out into the cold. Felt the release of that hook in her heart she hadn’t realized was giving her pain until it was gone. 

Rhys’ footsteps crunched behind her in the snow, and she let him follow her through the woods until she couldn’t stand it anymore, winnowing home to Velaris without looking back.

[the-vast-corner-of-the-galaxy]

KW 2024- Day 4: Post Battle Reunion

I know I am *technically* posting this on Friday, but whatever lol.

Anyway, my take for Day 4 of Kataang Week hosted by @kataang-week

Prompt: Post-Battle Reunion - Thursday, August 1st

Chapter Summary: Aang and Katara reunite after the Hundred-Year War is finally over.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3.2 K

It was done.

Aang had finally defeated Fire Lord Ozai.

The young airbender stood on the hills of Wulong Forest, looking at the horizon for many moments, seeing Sozin’s comet fade away into the night.

Suki, Sokka, and Toph were all celebrating and talking about Aang’s victory over Ozai. They talked about the battle, how he took his bending away, how they almost died too many times, and how much they despised the Fire Lord. Aang appreciated his friends’ enthusiasm, but he was too lost in thought to even think about it properly and be grateful for them. His mind was lingering on all the events that just happened, and couldn’t seem to focus on the present.

Aang’s mind then turned to one particular person:

Katara.

Was she okay? Is she still alive?

Aang’s heart rapidly thought at the thought of her, and these beats were filled with worry, concern, and fear. He had to go to her, immediately, but his mind was still paralyzed.

“So,” Sokka began. “I think it’s time we return to the Fire Nation now. We need to go support Zuko and Katara.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Suki chimed in. “Let’s head to one of the ships and get going. The quicker we get there, the better.”

Everyone began walking towards the remaining ship and made their way on it. Aang took a while to follow due to the exhaustion, but he eventually catched up. Suki and Sokka were preparing the ship for departure, and Toph was beside them. The young earthbender suddenly felt a strange energy coming from Aang, who was sitting a few paces behind him. She sensed his exhaustion, both spiritually and physically.

“Twinkle toes, what’s wrong?” she asked with concern. “You just saved the world just now, but you don’t look too happy. Why?”

“I don’t really know,” Aang responded. “It’s just… Everything that just happened is too hard to process. Thousands of people died, so many lost their families, their friends, loved ones, so many people had to leave their homes, and even though it’s all over, I don’t know what will happen in the future. It all feels so uncertain.”

Toph did not exactly know how to relieve Aang’s worries, for he was right. Even if the war was over, the future was drowned with uncertainty. She thought about her own life, and realized how it was also filled with a void of uncertainty.

“Well, we don’t know what’s going to happen in the future,” Toph began, “But that is not in our control. I guess we are just going to have to live the present, and live each day as if it were the last.”

Aang felt a small weight lift off his back thanks to Toph’s words. “Thank you, Toph, that really helps.” Toph smiled at him and went back to Sokka and Suki, who were starting the ship for departure, and Aang sat on the floor, thinking about was was to come.

Even if he was the Avatar, he could not control the events ahead of time, the future. He had to keep living each day as if it were the last, especially after how many times he almost died (and actually died).

In fact, Aang did not know how long he was going to live for at all, especially since he was already 112 chronological years. He was not going to be the Avatar for eternity since there would come a day were his body would not take it anymore and the spirit of the Avatar would be passed to another person. Aang’s days were already being counted, and it was clear that however long he was going to be in this world, he had to spend it well.

In the little time Aang had of life, he realized that he had to fulfill his duties as the Avatar. He had to maintain the balance until his body gave in. Being the Avatar was a huge part of his identity, a part he basically could not remove, but it was not all of it. Aang had learned from Roku that each Avatar has their own identity and personality, even if they shared the same spirit. He was more than the most powerful bender in the world.

Aang was a person, just like everyone in this world, and Aang had to live out his duties as well… Aang, himself. He had already made many friends, whom he was grateful for. These included Sokka, Toph, Zuko, Sukki, Iroh… and many others.

Aang also had a very special friend, but it was the person he basically could give up anything for.

It was Katara.

From the moment Aang saw Katara in the South Pole taking him out of the iceberg, he began loving her, but not only romantically. Aang loved Katara in all the ways possible, even if he did not yet comprehend it. She was the one who found him, saved his life countless times, comforted him, talked him into his sense, and so much more.

Apart from the world, which he had to protect, Katara was everything to him.

With a pain in his chest, Aang remembered the last conversation they had before the battle on Ember Island. He had gotten in a fight with her, and in the simplest terms, told her that she was not helping him at all. The young airbender felt guilt build inside of him, and he knew he had to immediately talk to her and apologize, if she was still alive. If Katara was not alive, the guilt from their fight would probably kill him.

“How long will it be until we get to the Fire Nation?” Aang asked anxiously.

“Probably many hours,” Sokka responded. “But thanks to the airship, it won’t take weeks to get there. We will probably get there by the time the sun is up in the sky.

The Avatar nodded, and the ship began flying in the air. After a few minutes of being up in the sky, Aang’s body became heavy, and he immediately fell into a deep sleep.

When Aang awokened, he found himself in a similar landscape to the one in the Eastern Air Temple. It was nighttime, and there were thousands of skies in the sky. The moon was full, casting a silvery glow over the serene surroundings. A gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine, adding to the dreamlike quality of the scene.

Aang gazed up, mesmerized by the celestial display above. Comets streaked across the sky, their tails leaving trails of shimmering light, as if inviting him to make a wish. The beauty of it all was almost overwhelming, and he felt a profound sense of peace.

“Aang!” a familiar voice exclaimed behind him, except that it sounded older. Approaching him was a beautiful, tall woman dressed in elegant Water Tribe attire. Her long, flowing hair framed her face, and her stunning sapphire eyes sparkled with a mixture of joy and wisdom.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said with a warm smile, kneeling down to his level. Her voice carried a soothing, melodic quality that resonated deeply within him.

“Wait… who are you?” Aang asked, puzzled. The image then clicked in his mind, and he immediately knew who this woman from the Water Tribe was.

You’re… Katara!” Aang exclaimed, his heart pounding in his chest. “But you’re all grown up. What kind of vision is this?”

Katara chuckled softly, her laughter like the gentle tinkling of wind chimes. “This is simply a glimpse of the future, Aang; a future where we’ve both grown and faced many challenges together.”

Aang reached out tentatively, his hand trembling slightly as he touched her face. She felt real, solid, and her skin was warm under his fingers. “I don’t understand. How is this possible?”

Katara took his hand in hers, holding it gently. “Sometimes, the Spirit World reveals things to us that we need to see for ourselves, to give us hope and guidance. This is one of those moments.”

Aang looked into her eyes, feeling a deep connection that transcended time and space. “You look so… strong… and beautiful. I can’t believe this is real.”

Katara’s eyes softened, and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. “It’s as real as you need it to be, Aang. The future is not set in stone, and it never is, but this vision shows the potential of what can be if you and I stay true to our path.”

Aang felt waves of emotion fill his body: a mixture of hope, love, and determination. “I’ve always known we’re meant to be together, but seeing this… it makes me believe it even more.”

Katara placed reassuring hands on Aang’s shoulders. “Aang, We have a long journey ahead of us, with many trials and triumphs, but remember, no matter what happens, you will not face them along; we’ll face it together.”

Aang closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her presence and the strength of their bond. “Thank you, Katara. This vision means more to me than you can imagine.”

As they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, the dream began to fade. The landscape blurred, and the stars dimmed, but the feeling of love and reassurance lingered in Aang’s heart.

When Aang woke up from his sleep, the emotions he felt in his dream were still within him, and the first thing that came to his wind as it awakened was his love: Katara. He HAD to talk to her, specially after seeing her in his vision. Now that the war was over, he knew that he had ot be with her, any way or another. Katara reciprocated her feelings for Aang, but had made it clear some time before that they could not be together yet because of the circumstances happening in the moment, but now that the war was all over, there was a big possibility that something between them could happen, something special… unless Katara changed her mind, and in that case, his vision meant absolutely nothing and his mind was just playingtricks on him.

“Oh! You’re awake now!” Sokka went to Aang and helped him get up from the ground. “May I present you, Avatar, the Fire Nation!” Sokka dramatically pointed at the landscape ahead of them. The Fire Nation Capital looked the same, except that it had suffered lots of damage from the war.

“We’ll be landing in the capital in a few minutes, so just make sure you’re fully awake by the time we get there.” Aang simply nodded, and went back to his trail of thought until they landed.

When they got out of the ship, Aang didn’t hesitate in running ahead of the others towards the Royal Palace, which could be seen from afar. He ran and ran through the Earth Kingdom nad Fire Nation troops and through the crowds of people until he got to the palace gates. There were many Fire Nation guards standing at the main gates, making sure no one got in or out of the palace. Aang hurried to the door, but was stopped by the guards.

“Stop there!” one of them snapped. “No one is aloud in or out of the palace!”

“I have to get in there! It’s really urgent!” Aang pleaded. “I’m looking for Prince Zuko! It’s really important!”

“No one is allowed in!” responded the guards. Aang didn’t know what to do, and he tried frantically to think of a solution. In a few moments, a solution occurred to him, even if he hated it.

“Tell Prince Zuko that the AVATAR is here!” Aang demanded, with a bit too much aggression. The guards let him in with hesitation, and Aang ran through the gates. He asked around the guards for Prince Zuko since he would know where Katara was. One of them led them to a room with wounded people. Zuko was standing there in the room, making sure every person in there was treated and cured.

“Aang?!” Zuko turned around and saw Aang, shock coming over him. He could not believe the Avatar had done the job: defeat his father.

“Zuko, where is Katara?” Aang asked urgently, his voice laced with anxiety. He scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Zuko approached Aang, his face a mix of relief and concern. “She’s safe, Aang. She’s with the other healers, tending to the wounded. But… you did it? You defeated my father?”

Aang nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “Yes, but it wasn’t easy. I need to see Katara. I need to make sure she’s alright.”

Zuko placed a hand on Aang’s shoulder, his expression softening. “She’s fine, Aang. She’s been working non-stop to help everyone here. She’s incredible.”

Aang’s tension began to ease, but a new worry crept into his mind. “Zuko, what happens now? The Fire Lord is defeated, but the Fire Nation still needs a leader. The world needs to heal.”

Zuko took a deep breath, the weight of responsibility clear on his face. “I know. I’ve been preparing for this moment, but it’s still overwhelming. I want to do what’s right, to bring peace and balance, but I can’t do it alone.”

Aang looked at Zuko, seeing the determination and uncertainty in his eyes. “You won’t be alone. We’ll rebuild together. We’ll make things right, but you have to promise me something.”

“What is it?” Zuko asked, his voice steady but curious.

“Promise me you’ll lead with kindness and fairness, that you’ll honor the memory of those who suffered under your father’s rule,” Aang said, his tone earnest.

Zuko nodded solemnly. “I promise, Aang. I’ve seen the damage my father has caused. I want to be a different kind of Fire Lord, one who brings hope instead of fear.”

Aang smiled, feeling a renewed sense of hope. “I believe in you, Zuko. And I’ll be here to help every step of the way.”

Just then, Katara appeared in the doorway, not believing the sight in front of her. It was Aang, and he was alright. Her heart rapidly pounded in her ears as she saw the airbender in front of her beside the future Fire Lord. She thought she had lost Aang almost permanently, for she had not seen him since he disappeared mysteriously from Ember Island, but now, he was here, standing in front of her.

Aang turned around and saw a petrified Katara standing just a few paces away from him. Her cerulean blue eyes were open wide, as if she had seen a ghost.

“Aang,” she breathed, not sure what to say next. Aang began to approach her slowly, as if he were approaching a tiny bird who was ready to flee any moment, but Katara had other plans, and she almost tackled Aang to the ground with the tight and strong embrace she gave him.

Katara basically cried into Aang’s shoulders once she held him, afraid he could fade away any minute. Aang however, was perfectly fine for the most part. He came in one piece, and did not have severe damage on his body. Aang was also relieved to finally see her, hold her in his arms.

“You did it!” she loudly exclaimed with joy. “You saved the world, and you’re safe!” She hugged him again, as tightly as the first hug. Aang retuned the hug back, but he could not find the right words for what he was going to say after he let her go of his embrace. “I… I did,” Aang replied, not sure how to continue. “I’m okay, Katara. And so are you.”

“I am so proud of you,” Katara whispered, getting closer to him, and holding his shoulders.

Aang smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. You gave me the strength to keep going.”

Katara’s expression softened even more. “We believed in you, Aang. We always knew you could do it. But now… now you need to rest. You’ve been through so much.”

Aang nodded, the weight of his journey finally settling in. “I know. But there’s still so much to do. We have to rebuild, to heal the world.”

Katara gently cupped his face in her hands, her touch soothing. “And we will, but you don’t have to carry the burden alone anymore. We’re all here to help. You’ve done enough for now.”

Aang closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the comfort of her touch. “Thank you, Katara. For everything.”

Katara leaned in and rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling. “We’re in this together, Aang. Always.”

Aang let go of her quickly, remembering what he had to do. “Also… I need to talk to you really quickly… about something.”

Katara’s brow furrowed with concern. “What is it, Aang? Is everything okay?”

Aang took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I wanted to apologize for all the things I told you back on Ember Island. I know you were trying to help, and I feel so guilty for screaming at you and-”

“Aang!” Katara laughed. “It’s all fine now! You don’t have to apologize. I know you were just stressed and didn’t know what to do-”

“I also need to talk to you about… the future,” Aang interrupted. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what comes next, now that the war is over.”

Katara nodded, her expression softening. “I’ve been thinking about that too. There’s so much to rebuild, so many people to help.”

Aang looked into her ocean blue eyes, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Exactly, and I know it won’t be easy, but I can’t do it alone. I need you, Katara. Not just as a friend or a healer or a waterbending teacher, but… as someone who’s always by my side.”

Katara’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing. “Aang, I… I’ve always been by your side, and I always will be. You’re not alone.”

Aang smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. “I know, and I’m grateful for that, but there’s more. I… I love you, Katara. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I can’t imagine facing the future without you.”

Katara’s breath caught in her throat. She looked at Aang, her eyes searching his for sincerity. “Aang, I… I love you too. I’ve always cared about you, more than I can put into words.”

Aang’s heart soared, relief washing over him. “You do?”

Katara nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yes, Aang. I do. I’ve been so worried about you, about us, but now, standing here with you, I know we can face anything together.”

Aang took her hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. “Then let’s face it together. Let’s rebuild this world and make it a place where everyone can live in peace.”

Katara squeezed his hands, her smile growing. “Together.”

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading away as they shared this intimate connection. Then, Katara took a step back, her practical side kicking in.

“But first, we need to find the others and make sure everyone is safe. We have a lot of work to do,” she said, leading Aang back to the room where Zuko was.

Aang nodded, coming back to reality. “Right. Let’s go.”

As they walked hand in hand through the corridors, they felt a renewed sense of purpose and strength. Together, they would rebuild their world, one step at a time.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

Am definitely in two minds about the human race becoming cyborgs: on the one hand, who could possibly be against helping paralyzed people from walking again? But on the other, the thought of us leaving our flesh and blood bodies behind and moving further and further into existing as, and identifying as, non-organic machines seems only the stuff of horror movies. Then again, here we are living in the future: you can't put the genie back in the bottle. So I guess we're all just going to have to adapt.

There's that Samuel Johnson quote Hunter Thompson used at the beginning of Fear & Loathing: “He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.”

Well, I think there's millions of people out there who will eagerly gamble that retreating into cold, dead machines will rid them of the pain of being nerve-filled human beings in an ever-more chaotic, senseless and empty world. There already are: porn, video games and the internet are safe, and we've just about all adapted to some or all of them becoming our normal everyday existence in a very short space of time. It's not at all hard for me to imagine a very large proportion of the population 30, 40 years from now, wandering around with shiny new metal "enhanced" body parts that they're showing off the way teenagers were showing off holes newly cut into their ears and cheeks a few years back.

Or, even more likely, not wandering around at all, but just living in the pristine, pain-free virtual reality of The Matrix. Until someone turns them off.