#i felt every emotion on the human spectrum

[tiny-steve]

negribreen, svalbard | sept 23

[hongjoongpresent]

no offence but I'm bitching he's bitching they're bitching we're bitching bitch bitch bitch bitch funny funny funny funny. btw

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Hauntingly Yours - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: ghost! Han x fem! reader

summary: You signed the lease to a brand new apartment and now you're on your own again. You sure didn't miss single life but some creepy noises at 3am suggest you're not alone in your new place.

warnings: angst, nipple play, temperature play, paranormal intercourse(?)

“All houses wherein men have lived and died; Are haunted houses. Through the open doors; The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors.”

You lifted the last box off the moving truck and made your way inside. The landlord failed to mention the creaking stairs and the rotting wood bannister that wobbled when you held onto it. He had told you the wooden floors were all original, as were the windows. The house was built in the late 1800s and you had rented out the top floor. You asked him who would be renting out the floor below you and his face went cold. You remembered that look from your childhood. Kids would give you that cold, uneasy stare when you told them about the figures you saw in the night. You don't talk about that stuff anymore.

“No one will be living downstairs, miss. Not anymore.” The landlord said firmly. And that was that. No more questions, no more answers.

You grunted and groaned as you lifted the last box up the stairs to your new bedroom. You set the box down on the floor and collapsed into the bed. Your eyes stared at the ceiling. Peeling white paint and water stains scattered above you. You couldn't explain why you were so drawn to this place, this house. Your mom had practically begged you not to sign the lease. She said she got a bad feeling about this place. But you didn't get a bad feeling. You felt strangely comforted, oddly at peace.

That night, you made yourself comfortable on your new mattress. You made yourself some tea and quickly faded off into sleep. But soon your eyes shot open and a cold rush ran through your body. You sat up in bed and looked around the room. You had that familiar, eerie feeling that you weren't alone.

“Hello…?” You whispered meekly. You held your breath in anticipation of a response but none came.

You sighed deeply and dragged your hands along your face. Get it together! You told yourself. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table to see the flashing numbers Three Oh Three A.M glaring right back at you.

In the morning you padded softly to the kitchen only to find all of the cupboards and drawers flung open.

“What the fuck?!” You hastily shut every cupboard and every drawer. You hadn't bought very many groceries yet so there wasn't much of a mess to clean. For a moment you thought the landlord may have come in and done it. But he had been out of town since he gave you the keys, almost as if he was fleeing the place entirely. Then you had another thought. Your eyes darted around the room, your senses heightened and on edge.

“Listen! If there is anyone here. I live here too now, okay? So we're going to have to learn to…coexist.” You waited. You paused and waited for some kind of sign. A whisper or a knock or something, anything. But just like when you were a child, when you wanted proof of the figures that you saw at nothing, they never showed themselves.

Another night of falling asleep rather quickly. You were never able to fall asleep this easily at your other apartment, but here you drifted off to sleep rather effortlessly. While you slept, a ghostly specter hovered in the corner.

Han had been gone for years. Centuries of watching people move in and out of this house. His family home was now a revolving door of randomly selected people that lived their lives for a year or two then vanished, never to be seen again. Han would watch children grow and couples fight and make up. The whole spectrum of human emotions were displayed for him like a torturous loop in this limbo he found himself in.

But now, Han’s attention was soon completely captured by your beauty as he watched you sleep. He found himself drawn to the warmth and vitality emanating from you, something he hadn't felt in centuries. His ghostly form hovered closer, his ethereal fingers reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. You stir in your sleep. The cold sensation of Han’s touch startling you.

Emboldened by your lack of reaction, Han continued to touch your face, your hair, your arms. The more he touched you, the more he craved physical contact. He leaned in closer, his face hovering just above yours, and pressed his icy lips to yours in a ghostly kiss. He couldn't believe what he was doing. For years he couldn't even hold someone's hand let alone press his lips to theirs. You part your lips and open your mouth to his. Your eyes flutter slightly. Han was stunned and overjoyed as you responded to his kiss, your warm lips moving against his cold ones. He deepened the kiss, pouring centuries of loneliness and longing into it. His arms encircled you, pulling your sleeping form closer as he lost himself in the sensation of your embrace.

Han breaks the kiss as he notices your fluttering eyelashes, fearing that he has awakened you. He searched your face, finding your eyes still closed. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

"You can see me, can't you?” He whispered softly.

Your eyes flutter open slowly as they take in the floating figure above you. Han fixes his eyes on you, fully expecting you to scream or run away. But instead, you sit up and fix your eyes on him as well. You both stare at each other for a moment before you finally break the silence.

“Who are you?”

Han smiles sadly, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. "My name is Han Jisung, I am the gentleman who used to live in this house.” His voice is sure and strong. “I didn't mean to wake you, ma'am. I couldn't resist..." His gaze drops to your parted lips, and he hesitates, torn between desire and guilt.

Han Jisung, you repeat his name like reciting a soft prayer. Han hasn't heard another person speak his name in so long, his heart lingered on every syllable. You ask him how long he's been here and how he died, but his face twists with confusion and frustration.

“I don't remember.” He hisses.

You lightly brush the tips of your fingers along his cheek. Han's eyes search yours, hope flickering in their depths. He shivers at your touch, a ghostly moan escaping his lips. He takes your hand and presses it against his chest, over where his heart used to be.

"I feel so much, being near you. It's like I'm alive again." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your palm.

You shiver again as Han’s icy kiss penetrates your warm skin. You bring your face slowly to his and part your lips once more, silently inviting another kiss. Han’s mouth descends onto yours, his lips insistent as they claim your own. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entry. His hands roam your body, learning the curves and dips of your form. He is ravenous, desperate to make up for centuries of denied touch and affection. You melt into the touch almost instantly, falling back onto the bed and pulling him on top of you. You feel his hands traveling up and down the sides of your waist, keeping a respectable distance from anything too intimate. You take his hands on yours and bring them to your breasts. Han tears his mouth away from yours, panting heavily. His hands squeeze your breasts, his thumbs rubbing against your nipples through the fabric of your shirt.

"God, I need to touch you. All of you."

Han gently pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your bare breasts to his hungry gaze. He sighs in wonder, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts, the rosy peaks of your nipples. He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, suckling gently as his other hand massages your other breast.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, the cool sensation making you arch into his touch. He lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between suckling and laving with his tongue. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you harder against him. Your mind is lost to the sensations of his hands roaming desperately over your body. You pull at his clothes, your need overpowering any common sense that may be left. He rises above you, his eyes glinting in the dim light. His hands make quick work of the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare beneath him. He unbuttons his own waistcoat and breeches, shedding the century-old clothing.

Han allows you a moment to admire his spectral form, his pale skin seeming to glow in the darkness. He settles between your thighs, his cool flesh a stark contrast to your warmth. He kisses you deeply as he positions himself at your entrance

His eyes flash with desire and tenderness. He enters you slowly, his cool hardness filling you inch by inch. He groans at the sensation, his head falling to your shoulder. "Oh, Miss… you feel divine. You feel like Heaven." He begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured.

Han's pace quickens as you meet his thrusts, your movements driving him to the edge. He buries his face in your neck, his icy breath against your heated skin. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pumps into you. You can feel your orgasm nearing as he continues to piston and stretch inside of you. Your own morality fraying at the seams as you reach your peak and let the sensation of unknown ecstasy consume you. Han lets out a guttural moan, his body tensing as he finds his own release inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he shudders with aftershocks.

You lie there together bathed in the moonlight dripping through your bedroom window. You listen close to the sounds of breathing. Han is here with you. And not with you. You hold him flush against you for as long as you can. You're not sure what will happen to your ghostly companion once the sun rises in the morning.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star

[wanderingtycho]

For the longest time in Disco Elysium, I couldn’t figure out why Empathy was the stat chosen to represent Moralism, the other political stats made more sense to me.

Rhetoric is Communism, constantly arguing for you and dismantling the arguments of others, choosing to feel smart and miserable over acknowledging your hopelessness under capital.

Endurance is Fascism, purely physical, purely reactionary. No intellectual angle and not the emotions of your mind, but of your gut. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling of your insides telling you that everything sucks in your life because of *them*.

Libertarianism is Savoir Faire, the slimy show off stat, the ooze and groove and grinding of a real hustler. The kind of mentality that leads a terminally poor cop to walk around the most destitute ghetto in the city bragging about his net worth and his visionary money manifesting, to which normal people rightfully treat you as if you’re insane.

All well and good, all tracks, but then there’s Moralism, the political center, the Kingdom of Conscience. The stat for this would seem plainly obvious, Volition, right? The self control stat, the stat of temperance and rationality and measured action. The boring stat. Hell, Volition is the one who chimes in approvingly when you try on the Moralist pants. It seems like a perfect fit, but no, the stat for Moralism is Empathy.

Empathy, the stat that lets you, even forces you to feel for others. To reach them at their level, cut through to the source of all their feelings, the Superego. What does any of that have to do with Moralism? With slow, incremental progress and La Responsabilité?

At first, I thought it might have been an oversight, one Psyche skill swapped with another. Then I thought maybe it was meant as a subtly pro-moralist statement, that extreme political ideologies make it harder to connect with others, and being more “sensible” politically makes you more relatable. But that doesn’t really gel with the games stance on centrism, which is decidedly not positive, with the Moralist International depicted as a cold and dehumanizing force of oppression.

It didn’t make sense until I completed the Moralist political vision quest, which is by far my favorite out of all four. With Harry on top of the statue of Frissel III, begging and pleading with Coalition Warship Archer, it’s an Empathy check you have to pass to make the faceless drone on the other side of the radio see you. Hear you, acknowledge you as a person who is suffering, acknowledge the suffering of Martinase and Revachol under the unfeeling negligence of the Moralintern.

That’s when it hit me, Empathy is the Moralist stat because it taps into a universal human experience. Most people don’t have consistent political beliefs, even those ascribing themselves to more radical points on the spectrum. Most people have a complicated relationship with faith. But that moment of Harry on the statue, shouting desperately at a dreary sky for someone to please do something about this, that moment is empathetic to us all.

Regardless of political leanings, whether secular or spiritual, that gnawing existential dread is consistent. The world keeps getting worse and worse, and nobody with any power seems to care, every day we’re met with the silence of God and the silence of Capital. That’s why Empathy was chosen to embody Moralism, to recognize that deep down we’ve all felt that anxious longing. To look up at the sky and hope that something, someone. Anything, anyone, would please just listen and hear. Please just do something about this.

[tomriddleslove]

Foolish, foolish thing.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Tom reflects on how much he hates everything, yet he can’t seem to stop. Alternatively: Tom has a dramatic internal monologue.

A/N: I’m going to cry this is actually so foul but REPOST since I accidentally deleted my fucking account. I now have to try remember whatever I wrote 😭. This was my first ever fic so be nice ( or don’t it’s ok)

Song: Sour Switchblade - Elita

Warning: Brief mention of unaliving

There were many things in life that angered Tom.

Whilst it is safe to presume that worrying about mindlessness niceties was beyond the realm of Tom Riddle’s concerns, one could ground some form of justification for his pessimistic outlook on life.

See, anger is a scale. One one end, you have the mild anger. A brief moment of frustration - a hot flash, an unthought remark. It comes just as quickly as it goes. We all felt it. Wether it was reasoned or not, we all did. United in our emotions.

Then , there’s the midpoint of the spectrum, a noticeable presence in the day. Anger wraps her hands around your throat, she does not squeeze. The presence is noticeable, but not burdening. It affects you for a day, perhaps two . This one lingers slightly. It pushes at the surface of the heart, scratches lightly. No visible mark. Tom perhaps most resonated with this. Anger, like all emotions, was a part of being human, being mortal. In the absence of anger, we would not have happiness. Anger was not inherently bad.

Aristotle believed that the most virtuous of people; Those who hoped to achieve eudamonia - enlightenment- would find a golden mean inbetween the emotions. Everything was paired. For recklessness, you had cowardice. For the indulgent, you had the unfeeling.

The traits we associate with virtue, such as bravery, or compassion, lay inbetween the vices of excess and deficiency.

So let anger be the vice of deficiency, bitter and resentful. Happiness is the vice of excess, obsequious and suppliant. Most of us would fall somewhere in the middle, fluctuating between excess and deficiency.

Tom lived in deficiency. He let the anger accumulate. She held her hand against his throat, not enough to suffocate but enough for him to forget what it was like to breathe, uninterrupted. He seldom grew used to her presence, a welcome sight. That seemingly harmless scratch, the anger that wasn’t enough to send him lashing out, or breaking down, every single day. It erodes at him.

The only testament to Tom Riddle having a heart was the damage inflicted on it.

Perhaps what sent Tom to the very end of the spectrum was laughable. He could tolerate the relentless tirades from the children at the home he stayed at. He never cared much for their words anyways, it wasn’t enough to tip the scale.

It wasn’t the way his peers had largely changed their attitude to him after he had discovered he was the heir of Slytherin. The same mouths that tormented him, now singing his praises. No, he didnt care for that. Wether people liked him or not, he knew power came from fear. Yes, perhaps to establish that standing he needed to employ charisma, be at least undetected. But trust, and respect, would not get him anyway here. Anything that is earned, can be revoked. Fear was instilled. It was engrained - it controlled what you did, and how you did it.

So what did push Tom to that forsakes far end of the spectrum? The place where anger constricts your airways? She digs her teeth into the side of your neck and tugs at your heart?

Foolishness.

Tom hated foolishness.

He loathed it. The mere sight of it gnawed at his very being (or what was left of it) . He could not stand the the foolish. Those who deluded themselves into thinking it was ok to wallow in self pity. Those who believed they were untouched.

Any form of foolishness? He hated it.

One cannot live in constant anger for long. The toll it takes on the being is too high, it is simply not sustainable. There was a beautiful irony in Tom’s pursuit for immortality, for if he didn’t seek to do so he would surely be dead in a year. Two, if he was lucky.

Why? Because more often than not, Tom had now been living with an excess of anger for the better part of a year. He learnt how to breathe whilst being suffocated, learnt how to compose himself despite the pressure it exerted on him. Tom was witnessing the very thing that angered him so much daily now.

And he was the perpetrator.

His anger for foolishness came from his utter disbelieve that anyone could, or would, willingly allow themselves to be fooled. To be vulnerable, to have something that they blindly followed. He thought it was simply the most unthinkable, daft action anyone could do. Yet, when it came to you, Tom was an absolute fool.

There is no polite way to put it, really. Tom thought nothing of you when he first met you. No sort of spark, a burn, an indescribable longing. No- to him you were the nameless person he spent every Thursday afternoon with during your double potions lesson.

But maybe that was better. It wasn’t on some kind of hedonistic basis that he fell for you.

Rather, it was his very being that fell for you before he could even comprehend what happened.

It was alien to him, the way his heart beat ever so slightly quicker when you would brush past him to reach for some ingredients, the faint scent of your perfume sending him into a haze. It was him searching for you subconsciously every thursday, it was him somehow being attuned to every laugh you exchanged with your friends at the far end of the slytherin table. It was obsessive, it crept up on him and grabbed him, holding him hostage to his own dismay.

Tom's realization gnawed at the very fabric of his identity, as if the foundation of his carefully constructed persona was slowly eroding. The anger he harbored towards foolishness now manifested within himself, and the more he tried to resist, the deeper he found himself sinking into the quicksand of emotions he disdained.

Every moment with you chipped away at the fortress he built around his heart. It was a cruel irony, for the very emotion he deemed foolish had become an adversary within. The disdain he felt for the vulnerability of others now echoed in his own internal struggle, and the knowledge that he, the formidable Tom Riddle, was succumbing to such weakness tormented him.

Love was an unwelcome guest, an intruder in the sanctuary of his calculated existence. He despised the way his thoughts involuntarily veered towards you, the way his heart betrayed the logic he clung to so desperately.

He hated the way you made him feel. The way he found himself wanting to be near you. He found that he didn’t mind stopping what he was doing if he could be with you. You didn’t willingly veer him off his path to greatness, but heaven knows that for you? Tom would careen himself off that track. And he hated that fact.

He hated it so much he contemplated snuffling the life out of you when you sat together in your room, subdued by a comfortable silence. He contemplated ending it all (whether it be you, or him) . A simple flick of his wand, it’s all he needed to do, and you’d be gone.

But no.

See, Anger lingered, it built up. But love?

Love clung. It burrowed into the desolate hallways of his heart, embedding its tendrils into him, refusing to ever leave.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the taste lingered like an enduring reminder of his own fallibility-

His own humanity.

The universe, it seemed, reveled in weaving the threads of his downfall from the very fabric he detested – the foolishness of love.

A small sigh, whether it be of defeat or acceptance (were they really ever different things?) escapes his lips, as he turns over, the feeble blanket that enveloped the both of you providing little to no warmth in the mid November night.

His eyes trace over your sleeping form; the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His hand hesitates for a second, gently reaching out. He places his hand ever so lightly atop of your chest, the warmth of your body seeping into him the same way your very being sept into his. He feels the rhythmic beating of your heart, and is once again reminded of how easy it would be. To just pierce the damned thing, and not feel this way anymore. To not feel like you were drowning him , yet he also needed you to breathe.

He hesitates for a second but ultimately, as he has always done, moves his hand up to brush away a strand of misplaced hair from your face, as he lets his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the blanket slightly tighter over himself, resting his head near your shoulder, forehead pressed against your skin.

He’ll do it another day, he convinces himself.

Such a foolish, foolish thing.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

@braincnancer I DO.

Im going to list them left to right and also provide names so it’s easier to search for these! For any flags stacked ontop of each other, its left, top, bottom. These first are pretty common, but it’ll get crazier as we progress. Let’s go!

Moxxie

Transmasculine: Someone who has transitioned to present as more masculine. This can apply to many people under the transgender umbrella, Moxxie however, is specifically a trans man and is comfortable in the gender binary of only a man.

Biromantic: Feeling romantic attraction to two or more genders.

Demisexual: Only feeling sexual attraction to someone after forming a deep bond with them.

Millie

Demiromantic/sexual: The same for Demisexual, however one also only feels romantic attraction after forming a bond with someone.

Straight ally: Straight, but supportive of the LGBTQ+.

Valentino

Pansexual: Feeling sexual or romantic attraction to people regardless of their sex or gender.

Masculinx: Where one feels their masculinity is xenic-neutral and nonconforming, anyone can be masc regardless of gender because this describes a type of gnc expression not a gender alignment (taken directly from the flag’s description! Coined by SkhOlstun)

Velvette

Cassgender: Where one feels their gender is unimportant, or where one is indifferent from the idea of gender. (Not to be confused with agender where people have no gender at all!)

Bisexual: Feeling sexual attraction to two or more genders. In Velvette’s case she’s also biromantic, but putting both felt a little redundant.

Vox

Bisexual: Look up at Velvette’s

Cherri Bomb

Agender: Where a person doesn't identify with any gender, or feels their gender identity is neutral or doesn't exist.

Biromantic: Look up at Moxxie’s

Pansexual: Look up at Valentino’s

Angel Dust

Boyfakegirl: Where one is 100% boy but 0% girl. Basically a boy who has a connection to the word "girl" but it’s not related to their gender at all. One might be boy/masc, androgynous, or neutral aligned, however their connection to femininity might feel as though it is fake/xenic somehow or is not the standard way usual femininity is.

MLM/Gay: A masculine person who is only romantically or sexually attracted to other masculine or non feminine identifying people.

Rosegender: A gender that is layered and thorny. Trying to hold onto the gender and pick apart every layer only causes emotional pain and stress.

Husk

Pansexual: Look up at Valentino’s

Charlie Morningstar

Biromantic: Look up at Moxxie’s

Agirligirlgender: Where someone identifies as a girl, but also simultaneously subtracted/separate from being a girl. It's not separate from being a girl by social terms, but rather distinct from it entirely, it's almost a paradox. It's not like being a girl in a fem, masc, or neutral way, it's being a girl without being a girl. (This gender was made with specifically neurodivergent people in mind so some people may just not get this one at all and that’s alright!)

Demiromantic: Look up at Moxxie’s

Evangeline/Vannie

WLW/Lesbian: A feminine person who is only romantically or sexually attracted to other feminine or non masculine identifying people.

Aroflux: Where a person who is on the aromantic spectrum experiences their romantic orientation as fluctuating between experiencing romantic attraction and not experiencing it, and/or experiencing romantic attraction to varying degrees.

Demiromantic: Only feeling romantic attraction to someone after forming a deep bond with them.

Alastor

Aroace: Experiencing little to no romantic or sexual attraction.

Forestthing: Where one’s gender feels less like a gender and more akin to a thing in a forest. What the “thing” is, is up to the person.

Humanthing: Where one feels like a human but not. As if you know you're human, but you don't feel human. You feel separated from your human identity and you feel comforted/more comfortable being seen as a thing & or non-human better.

Niffty

Straight Ally: Look up at Millie’s

Sir Pentious

Transmasculine: Look up at Moxxie’s

Non-binary: Where one identifies as a gender partially or wholly outside of the gender binary.

Straight Ally: Look up at Millie’s

————————

Hopefully this was a comprehensive list! A lot of these are a bit odd and I don’t expect everyone to get it, but as someone with a very fluid and odd idea of gender, it’s all just kinda how my head is. Have fun to anyone who enjoys this sort of thing!

[flxfthm]

I don't know if you ever said it before, but do you think Gabriel was a good villain?

mmm i guess the answer is yes because i think he's a good character? and the things that make him a "bad" villain are intentional flaws and weaknesses that make him more human. he's arrogant, short-sighted, and all his wins are attributed to outside help from nathalie, tomoe, or even felix !!! but he's not really meant to be seen as a schemer, as the way he exerts power over people is through his status. as he claims in pretention and as felix highlights in his play, the empire he's built and the resources he has access to make him the most intimidating, it's about "gabriel agreste" as a symbol of influence, who can control people in more ways than one.

he shines the most in S5 as he fully loses it and his dehumanization of adrien reaches ridiculously cruel extremes with the alliance rings, which are one of my personal favorite visual metaphors in the show altogether. it's sort of what i'm getting at, that you can see gabriel increasingly more corrupt with every passing season, and with that he also loses all the plausible deniability he was operating with from the start. the agreste story arc of S1-S5 is ultimately about questioning the consequences of our choices and the power we each hold as individuals, and gabriel is a physical manifestation of our worst possible selves. he's unapologetically selfish from his first to last appearance and even when he seems to come to recognize the results of his insanity, he cowardly leaves marinette to clean up his mess & deal with the aftermath.

while nathalie snapped out of it earlier than him & tried making amends for her actions by doing the bare minimum for adrien with the time she had left, and as felix ended up trading his cynicism for a positive outlook through the power of love, gabriel remained stubborn in his ways and his goal changed from the noble-sounding promise to reunite his family to, like, sticking it to those morally righteous brats as he grew mad with power. like akumas are people possessed by their negative emotions, gabriel is consumed by his regrets without even realizing it, and he's a cautionary tale for marinette to remember so that she doesn't end up like him. felix got to find out for himself pretty quickly how it felt becoming the monster that he thought his father was, that gabriel agreste was, and he immediately changed his path. but for marinette, whose life mirrors gabriel's own, the stakes are much higher and she's yet to come to terms with whether the choices she made in the S5 finale & london special were morally reprehensible after all. even with his physical disappearance, gabriel's control of the media, the people, and his son, have all been passed down to marinette and he still lives on through her. she could arbitrarily sympathize with felix's motivations as they both fought for adrien's sake and eventually their own romantic interests, but this time she's in a situation that would greatly affect and endanger her own life, and that's where the question initially posed to gabriel comes back to her - how far is she willing to go to keep things as they are, and how long will it be before she's also consumed by regrets?

the marinette/felix/gabriel spectrum really fascinates me because these characters have a ton of flaws in common as well as a similar way of thinking, and the distinction only lies in how instilled those mindsets are, and how easy or hard it would be to change them. marinette is always second-guessing, always unsure of herself; felix knows who he is, he has causes he vehemently advocates for but he's willing to make the occasional sacrifice or two if they'll benefit him in the long run, and he'll learn from past mistakes when things blow up in his face - and as for gabriel? he never makes any compromises, never reflects on himself, not once does he try and make an attempt until it's too late to change things.

and the way all of this ties with the show's message definitely makes him an incredible villain to me. thematically, he archieved his purpose in miraculous' first story arc and was an amazing nemesis to the main character. my only real complaints are only about how much more could've been done with these parallels while he was still active as the primary antagonist, or how we were only told about gabriel's past in the last minute, even if it was purposefully hidden. however i'm really excited for lila to succeed him as the theme of lies will surely be the most prominent in the second story arc, and i hope i'm correct in assuming that'll mean gabriel replacing emilie as the entity the narrative revolves around.

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter VII: Hoax

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

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

Synopsis: Tensions erupt when Neteyam confronts you about something he saw. His secret comes out at the worst time, leaving you both in pieces. 

Warnings: (a little) smut (18+, Minors DNI), angst, mentions of blood mentions of death, injury, pills, pill addiction, opioid addiction, disease, cursing, some fluff + all the feels.

Word Count: 9,5k words (holy mother)

A/N: This is it, guys! Where tensions explode and secrets come come out, hearts are bound to be broken. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I put everything into it. I cried whilst writing it, I laughed whilst writing it, pretty sure I experienced the full spectrum of human emotions whilst doing this. Also, I have ignored my actual work to finish it, so if I fail my annual progression review, at least it would have been worth it. Let me know what you think, and as always, thank you for everyone who is reading is and asked to be tagged <;3

"My only one, my kingdom come undone My broken drum, you have beaten my heart Don't want no other shade of blue, but you No other sadness in the world would do"

“There are perks with being an Omatikaya, you know? You can make your bow out of the wood of the Home Tree… and you can choose a mate.” 

Fuck. 

“Lo’ak… be serious.”

“I am serious, Angel. You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember. You have always been the only one to see me for more than just a freak, or a fuck-up, or a disappointment. You see me.”

The younger Sully boy gently cupped you face in his hand; he was caressing your cheek with his thumb. Using a little force, he willed your face upwards so you could look up at his face; you were surprised to see the intensity in his eyes. 

You placed your hand on his arm, and you hoped by slowly massaging it, it would relax him enough to soften your following words. 

“Lo’ak… I do see you. You are an incredible person. You have been there for me my whole life, and I will be forever grateful to you. You have been the only one who constantly chose the dark stuffy lab to the beauty of this world because the labs had me in it, you were closest to my mum and she loved you like you were her own. I think you are the most amazing guy there is and I think your mate will be the luckiest girl there is. But that’s not me, Lo’ak. You know that can’t be me.”

His hand dropped from your face and both of his hands took yours in them, squeezing them ardently. 

“But it is you. It has to be you.” 

“Kehe (no). Lo’ak, you are my best friend. I am your best friend. I love you so much, and I know you love me too, but the love we have for each other is not the kind of love one needs to be mated for life.” 

You spoke softly, looking at him pleadingly, hoping that he would understand your words in the way that you intend them. You can see his gaze drop and form deflate, being replaced by a meek one, a shadow of his former self. 

“Oh… I see.” He was now turning his back to you, trying to leave without looking you in the eye. You were not going to let that happen.

“I’m not letting you leave.” You say, keeping his hands tightened in yours. “We will talk about this, and you will recognise I am right.” 

Neteyam was having trouble seeing as he was manoeuvring his way through the forest. He felt sick to his stomach and every heartbeat sent waves of hurt through his entire body, like shards of glass gutting him from inside out. How could his own brother do this? How could you do this? He has spent more than two months with you, every day, sending touches and glances your way that were begging to be seen, begging to be acknowledged. He secretly prayed that you would call him out on it, give him a reason to finally tell you that he’s loved you since he was 10 and yearned for your touch since the second his eyes fell on you again after a whole year apart. He wanted you to finally give him a reason to tell everyone to fuck off and let him finally live his life by his own rules, with you by his side. 

Neteyam was shaking with tempestuous fury at the unfairness of it all. Lo’ak will always get everything just handed to him on a silver platter, won’t he? Freedom, to make his own choices, to live his life as he wished, carelessly and devoid of any forethought or responsibility. And now he got you, the woman of his dreams - and nightmares - and the future he used to fantasise would one day be his. 

His legs were moving without any conscious input from his mind, and before long, he found himself on the way to the clearing you and him used to go to all the time. Your place, just for his and your eyes to see, just for his and your hearts to experience. As he was nearing, he heard soft sounds emerging from the spot, and he slowly, carefully approached with a bow at the ready and all his senses heightened. 

“We were in the backseat, drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar…

I rent a place on Cornelia Street, I say casually in the car…”

Soft strumming and the most beautiful voice he has ever heard, a voice that he would recognise anywhere, for the rest of time, made him drop the bow he was gripping tightly. That song, Neteyam thought with a wince, and let himself remember.

“This piece of heaven is our Cornelia Street.” 

“What’s Cornelia Street?”

“Well, it’s a place back on Earth where one of her houses used to be, but in this case, it’s a metaphor. Cornelia Street is to them what this clearing is to us.” 

A month before your 17th birthday is the last day Neteyam saw you. He was coming to say goodbye. You didn’t know that, and, in your enthusiasm at seeing him after such a long time because of his training, or so he told you, you suggested coming here. Neteyam remembers everything about that day. He didn’t sleep that night, cried himself to sleep quietly in his family’s tent thinking of the possibility of not seeing you again, for a long time, perhaps forever. He had decided that his mum was right. Being around you was hurting you both, and maybe by leaving, both of you could heal and move on. He wouldn’t have to live with causing you more pain than you already had to deal with, and you wouldn’t have to go outside, something that you were only doing for him, it seemed. It was a win-win, he thought, and yet his heart was torn apart, coming apart at the seams of wounds that barely healed. 

You were sitting on the ground, resting your back on a rock by the river bank, with the same guitar in your hands you have had since you were young. Neteyam thought he probably heard thousands of songs being played on that guitar, countless hours laying just like he was now, hearing you sing. He did not like humans, could not understand them, their world, their traditions, their beliefs, but watching you strum that guitar and singing about your love, a love neither of you could ever say out loud except in this way, he realised humans did some things right. Humanity did you right. 

“We were a fresh page on the desk, filling in the blanks as we go

As if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead, leading us home”

Neteyam watched you intently, and was trying to assimilate the lyrics as best he could, knowing this was always your preferred method of communication, knowing that through these songs you are confessing your true, buried desires. You looked at him as you sang, giving him a big smile.

“And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again”

A year and a half later, inhabiting a new body, you were not smiling anymore as you were playing this, the strumming on the guitar slower and more sorrowful, and your voice sounded hoarse, like you had been crying. Neteyam couldn’t believe that you would come here, in his and your secret place and sing the song you silently confessed your feelings to, after what he saw. He felt his anger poison his body, as his heart picked up pace and made his heartbeat ring painfully in his ears, muffling the sound of your voice. 

“I never did walk Cornelia Street again after that day, you know? I kept my promise.” 

Neteyam freezes in place, a shocked expression marring his features. You heard him, even with your back to him, even while playing and with the soft hum of the river to dull your senses, you knew. Felt him, his presence that charged this clearing like the air before lighting strike. He, however, does not seem to hear the hint of sadness in your voice, nor the sniffling that accompanies it. 

“It took me a while to figure out you weren’t going to come back. It did not dawn on me right away. I thought you were just training hard, as you had been for years at that point, I didn’t think anything of it. I only figured it out a month after I played you this song, when my birthday came and you didn’t show. I waited all day. Way past eclipse, way past the point everyone else was gone and sleeping peacefully, I waited. I didn’t sleep that night. I was afraid I was going to miss you and no one would be able to let you through the door. It never occurred to me you wouldn’t show - not until the dawn of the next day. That’s when it hit.”

“I remember singing you this song, I was terrified. I mean, we talked around it all of our lives, I sang you songs, and I read you poems, and you’d sleep in my bed and let me attach myself to you in a way no friend ever would. But this song, I thought, would be the one. The one that would make us finally have to talk through it. The night before, I had watched an episode of Gilmore Girls, right? And it’s that episode when Dean pitches up at Rory’s school after she drops him hints that she’s in love with him, and he gets mad for one reason or another and then she screams at him “I love you, you idiot!”. And he drops all the stuff he was holding and rushes to her and kisses her, like really kisses her. And I remember thinking, I’m going to sing you this song, and this will be my “I love you, you idiot” moment.”

Neteyam walked slowly towards your form that was still turned around from him, and felt two forces tugging at him, ripping him apart. On one hand, there was the rage, and jealousy, the monster that wanted to scream at you, to hurt you for breaking his heart without even acknowledging it. On the other, there was deep sadness and grief, for the new information that he is receiving, for knowing what this meant to you, what he did to you, how he left you the day that you confessed, how that only strengthened his resolve. He didn’t know which was going to win. 

“I never had any expectations. I was never delusional enough to think that you would ever choose me. But I did have dreams. And in the dreams, you told me you loved me too, and that whatever it was, we would always be able to work through it together. That day after my birthday, I felt like something ripped apart in me that I’ve never recovered from. I’ve lost so much of myself throughout the years, every time something new came up. I’ve been in pieces, broken and shattered, my whole life, and yet somehow you managed to walk away with the biggest piece. Because I could never put you in a drawer at the bottom of my desk, like all my other pieces. You were never truly gone, you were just far enough that I could never reach you, but near enough that I could never heal. I mourned you, mourned the me that you took with you, every day for months. Losing you broke me, Neteyam. You broke me. I will never forgive you for that night.”

“Well I guess we’re both fucking disappointed with each other then.” 

Neteyam saw you shoulders hunch even more than they were and your head bow towards the ground. You hand raised to your cheeks and wiped something off your face, before you finally stood up and and turned around, facing him. Neteyam’s breath caught in his throat at the new sight. Your eyes were puffy and red, and tears marked your cheeks, so pronounced it was as if they would stain your face forever. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He felt his own tears threatening to spill then, pricking at his eyes painfully, begging to be released. There was so much pain inside of him, pain you caused him, pain for the hurt he knew he caused you, pain that felt like it will never diminish. 

“You’re sitting here, talking about that night and this song, in this place that once meant so much to us, after giving yourself to another man, to my fucking brother, and you want me to feel bad?”

He saw your face slowly register his words, as if you were mulling over every word carefully, turning it in your mind, and saw how your face went from sad to cold and unflinching and a shiver ran down his spine. You rose an eyebrow at him, an expression only he seemed to have the power to coax out of you. 

“What did you just say?” 

“You heard me. I saw you. I saw you in the forest, his hands all over you, I saw you running your hand up and down his arm. I’ve known he has been sneaking in your tent for weeks. What are you doing with my baby brother in your tent late at night, Y/N?”

FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE II: ANGER

“You honestly have some fucking nerve, Neteyam.” 

“You do not get to come here, come to this place, or any place for that matter and demand an explanation from me. I don’t owe you anything. You fucking left, Neteyam! We’re nothing to each other. Whatever claim or right you might have had once to ask anything of me or from me is long gone.” 

Neteyam stalked towards where you were standing, your words echoing in his mind. He was mad, mad at you for what you did, but also mad at himself. Because he knew you were right. He had no right to come here after abandoning you and the relationship you two had and be angry that you moved on. And yet he was. 

He was so close to you now he could feel your breath fanning over his face as you looked up at him, panting with anger, lips slightly opened. He couldn’t help look at them, those lips he has dreamed about for years, the way they’d feel on him, their taste… your taste. It was driving him insane, being so close to you, knowing what he knew. 

“Why? Why Lo’ak? You could have picked anyone else.”

You chuckled bitterly. “Really? So if I picked Akoa or Tärze, you wouldn’t be here right now, wouldn’t be mad and looking at me like somehow I betrayed you?” 

“Or is it possible it doesn’t actually matter who it is, it’s not the fact that it’s Lo’ak… it’s the fact it’s not you.” 

“You see, I think deep down you know it should have been you. I think deep down it kills you that you are not in my tent late at night. You’re not the one that gets to touch me.” he felt your hand place over his bare chest and run it down his abdomen until it reached his red loin cloth, which you slightly tugged at. He felt his cock twitch in response. 

You don’t know what came over you. You came here to mourn, still reeling after your conversation with Lo’ak. You never expected to see him here, hear his presence while you sang the song that once signified hope and love, and now is just a bitter reminder of all you’ve lost. You definitely never expected him to question you over Lo’ak, or be so angry over something that would never happen anyway. 

You were furious with him, furious that he never told you how he felt for you, and now he was clearly showing it to you by his displays of anger and jealousy. This was not how this was supposed to go. 

You felt a sick satisfaction at his demeanour. You made him like this, this angry, nose flared and panted breaths, you had this power over him. Just the thought of you with another man drove him to this point, and you loved it. He deserved it, deserves much worse. 

“You should leave, Neteyam.”

You started turning your back to him, but he took hold of your arm and kept you in place forcefully. His other hand went to your neck, and you felt him wrapping his hand around it and squeezing. 

“No.” 

You were shocked at his actions, and even more shocked at the immediate reaction your body had to him. You felt throbbing deep within you, and squeezed your thighs tightly together to accommodate for the feeling. 

“I’m not leaving until you tell me. Did you fuck my brother, Atan (light)?” 

He was still squeezing your throat, and you felt your pulse quickening when he moved and took a hold of you jaw, forcing you to look in his eyes. He looked mad, sad, desperate for an answer that would either mend or break him. You felt his intense stare in every cell in your body and felt yourself clench around nothing. 

You wanted to lie, wanted to see him suffer at least some of the hurt he’s caused you. But you couldn’t, not with how he was looking at you, not with how he was holding you. 

“Fuck you, Neteyam. I would never do that. Fuck you for thinking for a second that something like would ever even cross my mi-“

It wasn’t possible for you to finish the sentence, as his lips roughly slammed against yours, and you immediately, as if your body needed no input from your mind, raised your hands to the circle around his neck, pushing him closer to you. 

You moaned into the kiss, and the sound removed any ounce of sanity or self-discipline from his being, and he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue over your bottom lip, begging for permission. 

He felt his hand drop back around your throat, squeezing, loving the feel of your quickened pulse, knowing he was responsible for it, for your swollen lips and dilated pupils, for the way you were squeezing your thighs together. You were his, to love, to touch, to do whatever he wanted to. 

He was so hard now, his loincloth was constricting around him painfully, and he knew if he kept going, he was not going to able to stop himself until you were writhing underneath him, until he made you beg and scream his name over and over, all night long. 

“Pathfinder, this is Devil Dog, come in, over.” 

Fuck. 

Your body ached at the loss of contact, as Neteyam removed his hand from around your throat and his lips from your own. He was panting, and tried to steady himself before he touched the little button on the radio on his neck, sighing deeply. 

“I’m here, Devil Dog. What’s your post? Over.” 

You turned your back to him, and took a few steps towards the river, trying to compose yourself. What the fuck did I just do? This was bad, for so many reasons, it was making you dizzy just counting them all. You couldn’t hear what Jake was saying to Neteyam, but it couldn’t have been good, it was very rare Jake would use the radio to communicate with his kids, you’ve only seen it once when there was a hunting accident that needed everyone’s attention. 

“You need to get back to the village, now. We have a situation. If Y/N is with you, bring her back, too. Over and out.” 

Shit, this can’t be good, Neteyam thought to himself. He looked over at you and saw you turned your back to him, hiding. You were good at that, pretending, denying, avoiding. Pushing your feelings aside was your favourite defence mechanism, had been ever since your mum died. 

His eyes softened and he felt stupid for having doubted you, for spending so many weeks losing sleep over something that never even happened. Guilt also immediately pooled in his gut from the kiss, the confession, the implications of it, all of which things he would have to deal with sooner or later. The horror at the thought of the consequences of his actions made his skin crawl, but he didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, knowing his dad expected them to hurry.

“Hey… we have to get back, dad said to meet him in the village.”

You nodded weakly in his direction, and started making your way towards the village. Once again, he found himself having to clasp your arm by your wrist and turn you around so you could face him. You refused to look at him, so he cupped your face in his hand and raised you head gently so you could look at him. His thumb was ghosting over your lips, that were still swollen and when his eyes met yours, he saw a sadness so deep it made Pandora’s oceans feel like shallow pools. 

“We need to talk, properly talk.” 

You just nodded silently and removed his hand from your face, and the last thing he saw was your back, walking away. 

You were deep in thought as you arrived in the village, and were pulled out of your musings when you saw a big commotion happening all around you. You have never seen the village like this.

There was a crowd of people by the big bonfire, so that’s where you and Neteyam figured to look first. 

“…and no matter what comes next, we will stand and fight, together!” You heard big screams and ululating as Jake’s voice boomed throughout the village, above all the noise. 

You saw Norm and Max, all the humans and avatars on the right of the Olo’yektan. On his left stood Mo’at, Neytiri and all their children, plus Spider. Lo’ak was screaming and beating his chest, whilst Kiri looked concerned, and Tuk was almost crying, with a tight grip on her mum’s hand. You made your way through the mass of people, reaching the foot of the large tree stump acting like a platform. Jake spotted you and helped you up, and you saw Neteyam following you from the corner of your eye. 

Since the speech was done, people started dissipating, and Jake turned his attention to the pair of you. 

“Last night, Neytiri and I spotted a star in the night sky that shone brighter than it ever had before.” 

Panic rose in your chest at his words, words that you knew could only mean one thing. “The humans are returning.” you said, meekly. 

Jake nodded in your direction with anger flashing across his face, before he composed himself. 

“We knew this day was coming, but it is definitely different when it is finally happening than the image you had in your head.” you heard Norm pitch in from somewhere behind Jake. 

“How long?” Neteyam asked. 

“About a week?” Max said, and the man with such a kind and gentle face was scared, you realised sadly. Everyone was scared. 

“Fuck.” Neteyam’s face was unreadable. The war he trained all his life for was finally on his doorstep. 

“I need you to complete your Iknimaya before then. Tomorrow, you will go perform your first kill. You are more than ready. It’s time. When the humans come, I need you with me. With us.”

You couldn’t swallow the lump that has formed in your throat enough to speak, so you just nodded. You were not ready. The last time you were on an Ikran, you almost died. You felt the phantom pain on your left leg flare up, and you were terrified at the prospect of another flashback triggering as you were fighting for your life on top of the Hallelujah mountains, trying to make the bond. 

The crowd eventually dispersed and everybody went back to their homes. There was a heaviness in the air, no smiles or singing tonight, no communal dinner where people animatedly exchange stories and anecdotes; you saw Na’vi hugging their loved ones, keeping them close at all times, as if letting go would mean letting go forever. The war was upon you, and with it, the possibility of loss and grief settled in the bones of every one of the villagers. 

You felt sick to your stomach. A shiver ran through your entire body, and, at the weakness that enveloped your being suddenly, you knew the effects of all the pills you took to mitigate your symptoms have worn off. The dizziness you felt was more than just a weak headache you could ride out, but a sign your human body was fighting to maintain the neurolink inside the pod. You didn’t have much time. 

“I’m gonna go to bed. See you all tomorrow.” You needed to be in your tent when you passed out, otherwise it would raise suspicion immediately and you couldn’t afford that. 

“Hey, you can’t leave. We still need to talk.” Neteyam said, lightly tugging at your arm. 

“Not today, Neteyam.” You removed your limb from his grasp and left without giving him a second look. 

You were pulled out of the linkpod quite violently by your own body recoiling in agony. You felt a stupid ping of gratefulness at the fact that, although due to horrible news, at least no one was in the lab or adjacent hubs at the current moment. You struggled to get up, and found the walk back to your room excruciating, like no matter how much you walked, it was not anywhere in sight. When you arrived, you went straight to the bathroom and barely managed to make it to the toilet before throwing up, your body violently convulsing in on itself, trying to expel everything from your body. You haven’t had a proper meal in this body in months, so all your body was managing to get rid of was bile, bitter and acidic on your tongue. 

When you were done, you pushed your body weakly towards the sink, and gargled the bad taste away with some water and mouth wash. You peered up at the mirror, and were alarmed by the face that met your gaze. You barely recognised yourself. Your face looked ghastly, the palest you have ever been, the hollows of your cheeks looking like pits of shadows and darkness. 

Your under-eye bags gave away how little sleep you were actually functioning under, how little rest you actually got in the last few months. You looked truly sick, although you didn’t know how much of that was the virus and how much it was just you… ignoring your body like you ignored everything that you had to work through, everything that required healing and spiritual effort, and trading it for a easy-to-digest fantasy.

You made your way towards your bed limply and was comforted by the bottles of pills you saw on your bedside table, that will provide fleeting relief. You passed out on the bed soon after, happy that the suffering could be over for at least some hours. 

You woke up a couple of hours before dawn, with a raging fever and chills running up and down your spine, and instead of struggling back to sleep, you got up slowly and put some clothes on, making your way towards the labs. Today was an important day, and you needed to be focused for it, you couldn’t afford the same thing as yesterday take place. In the medical ward, you scrambled in the drawers until you found what you were searching for. The holy grail, injectable morphine. You hastily grabbed a syringe and a needle, measured out the amount needed, shook the syringe to remove any air bubbles, and directed it to your arm, where you injected it in your vein. Placebo effect or not, you felt immediate relief, and you knew this would put you through the day. 

Norm came to the linkpod to help with the neurolink, and he gave you a worried look as he watched you settle in. 

“I think you should be taking a break from this.”

“Are you serious right now? The humans are literally circling the atmosphere as we speak, I can’t afford to take breaks now, you know this.”

“What I know is that you look about a week away from collapsing in my arms, and your Avatar won’t work without you, Ace. You’re always in the village, and you don’t sleep. You’re always running experiments when you are here. Look, I love your enthusiasm, and I love that you’ve finally getting outside and enjoying your life, but there’s also too much of a good thing.” 

You were started to feel anger pick at your brain, much like the virus you were carrying with you everywhere you went. 

“You made this for me. You made me this Avatar. You guilt tripped me into taking it. Now you’re unhappy I’m using the Avatar. Why don’t you make up your mind and let me know, Norm? In the meantime, I have to go.”

You lay in the on the pod and placed the metal frame on top of your body, and you couldn’t miss the tear that fell on Norm’s face as he closed the lid of the pod. 

It was still before dawn when your consciousness woke up in the blue body you’ve come to love so much, and you couldn’t help feel immense guilt at the words you spat at Norm. He doesn’t deserve any of this; he has been a surrogate uncle for you ever since you were born. He made you an Avatar, he built you a guitar. He helped you go outside and live your life, he was always there for you if you needed to talk, or vent. He has always believed in you, in your capacity to help, to do good, to overcome your grief. You would have to apologise to him come nighttime. 

You saw Jake make his way to you as you opened the flap to your tent. “Hi, kid.” Tensions were running high, you could tell, as Jake did not smile or make light conversation, as he always tended to do. He would always take the time to check in, to make sure you are doing well, which you appreciated massively. You loved having him and the rest of the family around. It felt like you belonged, for the first time in your life. 

“So you, Neteyam, Akoa and Heesu will go and they will watch you perform your first kill. Early tomorrow, we will go take the Iknimaya, and then you will be able to join Neteyam on raids and scouting. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, boss.” You saw him crack a tiny smile at that, and felt better you could still make him smile, even in these circumstances.

Neteyam came out of the tent looking… so good it made your mouth fill with saliva. He was holding his bow tightly in his hands, and he was adorning new jewellery, you noted. A beautiful black necklace, filled with beads and impressive craftsmanship, his red and green cummerbund tightly wrapped around his ribcage, and his knife tucked on his hip, all came together to bring about Neteyam Te Sulli Tsyeyk’itan, the future leader of the Omaticaya. But what really drew your eye, was a bracelet. A green bracelet that he kept around his arm, whose every bead and stone was imprinted in your mind, for the rest of time. Why was he wearing that bracelet, why now? What was he trying to tell you?

Neteyam found his gaze drawn to the girl next to his dad, the only girl that existed, as far as he was concerned. He barely slept last night thinking of you, of that kiss, of your confession, of the song, and he knew he had to make it right sooner rather than later. The humans were coming, not one of them knew what their lives were going to look like in a few weeks, and there was so much to set straight, the thought made him nauseated again. He had to tell you. Your eyes found his and he saw many emotions passing through them, and was happy to see at least one of them was passion, and yearning. You looked at him like you wanted to do things Eywa would disapprove of, and he felt himself twitch in pain for what felt like the millionth time recently. 

Neteyam led the pack away from the village and towards the forest where you would have to make your first kill. He had no doubt in his mind you would do well, he honestly doesn’t know why it has taken so long to do it to begin with. You’ve been ready for weeks. After stalking quietly through the forest for a couple of hours, you found a herd of Yerik. Neteyam closed his gap on you and placed a hand on your back, smiling to himself at the way you shuddered when he did. 

“You’ve got this. We’ve been through this and you are ready. Remember, keep a knee on the ground for support. Good luck.”

You nodded without looking at him, eyes plastered on one of the animals peacefully grazing on a bush. He saw you, focused and determined, aiming the arrow with precision and power, and he knew then you were made for this. You were made to be here, as one of the people, you were meant to be Na’vi. 

You made quick work of the kill, and immediately got up from your crouched stance and made your way to the now fatally injured Yerik. You removed your knife from where it was placed on your chest, and repeated the words he taught you weeks ago. “Oel ngati kameie, ma tsmukan, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo (I See you, Brother, and thank you). Ngari hu Eywa salew tirea, tokx 'ì'awn slu Na'viyä hapxì (Your spirit goes with Eywa, your body stays behind to become part of the People).”

Perfect, just like he knew you would do. You were nervous, he noted, but you also seemed happy to have finally done it, after all this time training. All four of you made your way back to the village, the two men accompanying you carrying the animal by its legs. Neteyam wanted to talk to you, wanted to get you alone so he can finally tell you all the things he had to say, that he needed to say, the secret that has plagued him for weeks and that drove a wedge between him and his baby brother. Unfortunately, it seems like the universe fated you to never be alone with him again. Right after you arrived at the village, Jake took all of you to gun practice and through strategy meetings about how to plan an attack once the Sky People decelerated. Those lasted the whole day, and before he knew it, you left to your tent again, leaving him to deal with his dad on his own. 

“Neteyam. Stay, I want to talk to you.”

“Yes, Senpul (dad)?”

“Did you tell her yet?” 

“Not yet. I’m trying to find some time, but it seems like we are never together alone anymore.”

Neteyam saw his dad sighing heavily and was scared for the hell he knew would rain down on him sooner or later.

“Neteyam, you have to tell her. You have asked us to keep your secret, and we have. We have all participated in this, and I am getting tired of lying for you. The kids don’t want to lie to her anymore, your mother doesn’t want for this to be a secret anymore. She deserves to know.” 

“You will tell her by the end of the week, or I will.” 

Your body convulsed as your mind woke up in your human form, and you tried to hide it as best as you could so whoever was helping you get disconnected wouldn’t notice. To your disappointment, it was Max. 

“Hey, sweetheart. How was it today?”

“Good, made the first kill. Going up the Iknimaya tomorrow, which can’t say I am particularly excited about.” 

“Oh, honey, you shouldn’t worry about it. It’s going to be completely different than that dreadful day. You are going to be able to control it, you will be connected to it. Plus Toruk has never been spotted this close to the banshee rookery, so there will be nothing making your Ikran nervous.”

“Yeah, guess you are right.” You said, not wanting to tell Max that rationalising it doesn’t achieve anything except making you feel stupid for being scared. “Where’s Norm?”

Max looked agitated for a second, but tried to compose himself enough to appear nonchalant about the subject. “Um, I think he’s in his room, he told me he wants to read this book he still hasn’t gotten around to, if you can believe that. He's been here for almost 19 years, you’d think there’s be nothing new to do here anymore.” 

You hoped you weren’t as bad a liar as seemingly everyone you have come across recently, otherwise your illness is not as much of a secret as you’d hoped. 

“He told you.”

“Yeah…” 

“I was such a dick. I have to apologise. I’ll go find him.”

“Maybe give him some time? He looked really upset, and I think he just needs to lick his wounds by himself for a while.”

“I didn’t mean it, Max. I am just tired and stressed because of the Iknimaya and the humans returning, not that that’s any excuse.” 

“I know, honey. He will be alright, just give it time. Time heals everything.”

You could only pray that was the case, for Norm….and for yourself.

You woke up the next morning groggy, feeling sick from your illness and sick from all the pills you ingested last night. If this was starting to be a problem, it was a problem you were gonna have to deal with later. Pandora’s box can hold a couple more issues for the time being. You made your way quietly to the medical ward and found the morphine vial you used yesterday. Withdrawing a few more millilitres, you injected yourself in the arm with it, instant relief flooding your system. You sighed happily and thought this was probably the closest you’ve ever gotten to feeling euphoric. 

Your Avatar body looked ready to tackle the Iknimaya, in all new garbs and a new necklace that Kiri made for you recently, as well as Lo’ak’s visors. Tuk and Neytiri were braiding your hair fresh, so you were all ready to go by the end of the eclipse. Feeling how nervous you were, Neytiri put her hand on your heart, and looked into your eyes and she placed the last feather in your hair. 

“It will be alright, ma 'ite. You have done better than any other Dream Walker ever has. Even better than the Toruk Makto. I know you are scared because of what happened in the past, but you have grown so much since then. You are such a special child, a gift from Eywa. There’s light in you no darkness can snuff out, and you were made to be one of us. Do not worry.” 

You let out a small cry and hugged the woman that could have been your mother in these 9 years after you lost your own, who has loved you and protected you every chance she got, that wanted to take you in the village and raise you as one of the people, but who you pushed away out of fear, out of terror at the possibility of more loss, more pain. She never held a grudge, she never turned her back on you, even after shunning them from your life, she understood you and welcomed you back with open arms as soon as you felt ready to join them. She saw you. You will never be able to repay her kindness.

“We’ll be with you. Kiri and I will fly and bring Tuk on one of our Ikrans. Spider, Lo’ak, Neteyam and Jake will come on their Pa’li with you and make the climb. It will be good practice for them. We all want to celebrate with you. We can all join you on your first flight, so this way it will be less scary.” 

You were fully crying in the crook of her neck now, unable to believe the luck you had to having been born somewhere where the Sullys existed at the same time. There was a lot of pain in your life, but this family would always be your good karma, it seemed. 

The climb was the most excruciating thing you have ever had to do. Every muscle in your body was pushed to its limits, and you were beginning to wonder how you were supposed to fight a huge animal after all of this. You understand now this is why this was the ultimate test of becoming a hunter, and why there were not many hunters in the Omatikaya. The thought brought a gust of confidence to your mind - you were doing this. You. You’ve gotten so far, further than any scientist on Pandora ever has. You grew up in a lab with severe agoraphobia and unsolved trauma and you still made it here. You will do this, because you have to. Because you’ve come so far. 

It was taking every ounce of discipline to not continuously stop and stare at the beauty of the Hallelujah mountains, that you have heard so much about, but never experienced for yourself, and you realised you needed to swallow often to compensate for the dryness you felt from your mouth being stuck agape in awe at the beauteous miracle. 

You found yourself peering up at Neteyam frequently throughout the climb, and thoughts about yesterday made your already drugged-out mind even airier. There was so much to think about, so much to talk about, but you couldn’t handle it right now. You couldn’t handle the consequences of that kiss and the hurt that would inevitably emerge from your star-crossed fate. You were dying. Although you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to acknowledge the reality that your body was falling apart in front of you, it was happening. You probably had another couple of weeks before your heart gave out from all the strain the virus was putting on your whole body, just like it happened with all the other victims. 

As if he could feel you, Neteyam turned around and gave you a nervous look. You wondered what he thought of everything, how he felt. Was he happy about the kiss? Did he regret it? In his defence, he has been wanting to talk to you for days and you avoided him, unable to deal with him at the moment. He will just have to be another trinket in the Pandora’s box until you finished the Iknimaya. Making it to a large suspended boulder before you, he stretched out a strong arm for you, and you took it, happy to have at least some physical contact between you. His touch has always calmed your nerves, from when you were children, and now, as adults, that still hasn’t changed. 

He didn’t let go once you climbed next to him. Taking advantage of the fact you two were the last to climb, he took hold of your arm with one hand, and placed the other on your face, cupping it gently. His thumb found its way to your lips again, caressing them softly and you felt intoxicated from his touch. He brought his face close to yours and brought your foreheads together, breathing you in. You stood like this, staring at each other for a while, and it was like all the words you wanted to say to each other were spoken wordlessly. I love you. I see you. I’m sorry. 

“Are you guys coming or what?” You heard Spider screaming from a higher up boulder, and you reluctantly let go. He squeezed your arm one more time, and then motioned for you to climb in front of him. You weren’t far off now, you realised, and felt your heart picking up pace in your ribcage. 

Soon enough, you were there. You could hear thousands of banshees screaming and cooing, and you thought it was mirroring your internal dialogue quite well, loud and incoherent. Neteyam held a hand in front of your body as you made your way across a narrow ledge behind a waterfall, that connected the cave to the banshee nest. 

“Ok, kid. This is it. Are you ready?” Jake began speaking and you were trying to focus on him instead of the panicked feeling rising in your chest. 

As you were preparing to respond, you heard loud ululating from the sky, and immediately saw two beautiful banshees making their way to the mountain and settling in the cave you just left behind. You smiled at the view, excited that Neytiri, Kiri and Tuk could make it in time. They followed you to the nest and you brought your curled fingers to your forehead, greeting them warmly. I see you.

“Good luck, sister! I cannot wait to fly with you!” Tuk’s enthusiasm never failed to bring a wide smile to your face. 

You looked around at all the people who have travelled so far to come and be with you on this day. Your family, for all intents and purposes. You felt tears coming, but pushed them away with a sigh, trying to toughen your resolve. You gave one last look to Lo’ak, who was watching you sadly, the pain from yesterday still fresh in both your minds. You loved him so much, and hoped he would be able to forgive you in time. You touched his gift, now resting on your forehead, and gave him a grateful smile and a wink. He cracked a small grin and you knew then that your relationship wasn’t totally in ruins. 

“This is it, Atan. Now you must choose your Ikran. If it also chooses you, move quick, like I’ve showed you. You will have one chance. I will be behind you in case you need any help. Please don’t fall off a cliff, I don’t think my heart could take it again.” 

You laughed a little at his attempt of diffusing a situation. It wasn’t his best attribute. 

“Ok then, let’s dance.” 

Neteyam watched as you made your way through the Ikrans, and how they all flew away in fear at your sight - beautiful banshees that made him miss his own and reminisce about his own Iknimaya. You looked ready - powerful and confident, like you have always belonged here, with them. You were swinging your yìmkxa (mouth binder) and approaching each Ikran forcefully, hissing at them to hopefully provoke the right one. Eventually, a big banshee, bigger than his and most others he’s seen around, turns around to face you and does not remove itself from your path in the same way all the others had. It is a beautiful animal, white and gold with purple and pink wings and green stripes on its head, it looked different than any other in the village. Fitting, he thought. This was it.

He heard a loud hiss coming from where you were stood. The Ikran hissed back wildly and charged towards you. His heart was getting ready to exit his body at its speed and power, and he was panting in fear and anticipation, ready to jump in at any moment’s notice, in case you needed it. He saw you remove yourself quickly, skilfully, out of the animal’s way and wrap the yìmkxa around its mouth. Good, first step done. 

You then took a hold of your queue and jumped on the Ikran’s back, placing your thighs around its neck and squeezing with all of your might. The Ikran wrung its neck in an attempt to escape you, but you worked on this for months preparing for this day - you were not letting go. Neteyam saw the banshee make its way towards the edge of a cliff, and you wrapped the arm that wasn’t holding the queue around its neck for more support. 

Neteyam felt like he was going to pass out from the stress, and saw the next moments happen in slow motion, just like almost 7 years ago when you fell mid flight: the ikran managing to drop off the cliff, his wailing scream and immediate desire to join you, the hands of his mother and father wrapping around him keeping him in place, his own ikran dropping from a cliff at the sound of his call, him removing his parents’ hands forcefully and running towards his banshee, scrapping his arm painfully on the rock and the stabbing throb that followed, the feeling of a fresh injury and blood spilling down his arm, and yet still, no other thoughts in his mind than the need to save you, to right his past wrongs. 

He makes the bond quickly and before anyone could stop him, he’s in the air, flying around the rock and beneath it, trying to see where you could be. He was shocked to find you still on your ikran, holding for dear life while the animal was flying upside down, shaking itself furiously to get rid of you. He saw you drop the arm you were using to hold on to it, only managing to hold on by the strength in your thighs, and connected the queues with a loud yell.

“STOP!” He heard you scream. “TURN AROUND, NOW!” 

He couldn’t believe his eyes. You made your Tsaheylu, upside down, mid-flight. He watched as the banshee turned around and made its way back to where his family was, and he still had no words he could say to explain or describe what he was feeling in that moment. It was beyond words. He felt his arm twitching painfully and he quickly looked at it and saw the deep scratch that was leaking blood and staining his loincloth where his arm was laying. 

You did it. You actually did it. This little prick came at you with all her might and you still held on to her. You learnt a lesson or two from riding a banshee as a 13 year old defenceless human, and the most important lesson was: hold on for dear life. Good to see it came in handy. You also made it a point to thank Neteyam for making you hang upside down in trees to shoot down targets, you can see now it helped. You landed at the base of the rookery and watched as every one of your family members was smiling and yelling, cheering loudly for your accomplishment. They looked so happy, and you couldn’t help shed a small tear and the sight. 

These were your people, for the remainder of this short life, and you were happy you got to do this before you went. Happy you got to see them together, for you. You looked around at Neteyam and couldn’t see him, but then heard a loud, excited yelp from behind you. He looked so happy and proud, your heart swelled at the sight. This man would be the death of you, you knew. You loved him so much, and you knew it was time, time to talk through it. 

“First flight seals the bond.” he screams over the noise of the banshees and the waterfall. “Let’s go.”

The entire family called for their ikrans, and in less than a minute, you were airborne. You told your banshee to fly gently and straight, and held on tightly to her neck while you tried to adjust to all these new overwhelming emotions. The feeling of flying was incredible, so much more so than you remembered. Maybe because this time you were in control. The feeling of the Tsaheylu... Lo’ak was right, it was so much stronger than the Pa’li, the connection you had with this animal. You knew you were bonded for life, shared a kinship and bond no one could break until one of you died, maybe even after. The feeling of belonging, as you watched 5 other ikran fly alongside yours and help you through your first of many adventures in the sky. You felt grateful and happy to have made it so far before the inevitable end.

You made it at the village soon after eclipse, laughing and dancing while you walked back, hand in hand with Kiri who was rolling her eyes at you but joining in anyway. Tuk was holding your other hand, and you lifted her up and carried her all the way back while she played with your braids. 

As you arrived to your tent, you saw the rest of the family go into their own, with the promise you’d join after dropping all of your stuff. Neteyam stayed behind, closing his distance to you and only stopping when he was so close to you his chin was touching your forehead. It was only then you saw his arm, dried blood spilt everywhere and marring his beautiful blue stripes. His loincloth was also red, you noted, and saw the gash that was the culprit, high on his arm, still red and bleeding, although not enough to justify this much blood. It must have been bleeding for a while.

“What the hell happened to you?!” You said with a panicked voice.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” 

You raised and eyebrow at him and rolled you eyes, and pulled him to your tent by his uninjured arm. 

“Sit. I will clean and stitch it and then we can go for dinner.” 

He did as he was told, quietly sitting on the ground while you gathered supplies: some gauze, disinfectant, numbing cream, stitches and a needle driver, as well as some forceps and scissors. He squirmed at the sight, and you rolled your eyes again.

“You drive me crazy when you roll your eyes at me, you know? I would kill to be the reason your eyes roll in the back of your head at night.”

You blushed at his words, and sat next to him on the ground.

“You have to stop, Neteyam. We can’t do this again.”

You turned your focus on his wound, and began cleaning it slowly so as to not injure him further. 

“I can’t stop, Atan. I can’t think of anything else. I have so much I want to say to you, so much I need to get off my chest.”

He sounded sad, desperate for you to hear him out, his eyes pleading and pained. 

“How about we talk, after dinner? This time, you can be the one sneaking in my tent late at night.” you said sarcastically, not having forgotten his outburst from earlier and realising you were still angry at him for it. 

“Yes, please.” 

You sat in silence the rest of the time, as you worked with skilled, focused hands. You stitched his wound carefully, so as to not leave him with a scar. When you finished, you smiled up at him, and reached your hand to touch his face, moving a strand of beaded hair from it and pushing it behind his ear. He was so, so beautiful. He brought a hand to your chin and was pulling you closer, when someone entered the tent without making their presence known, making you both jolt back in shock. It was a girl. You’ve seen her before in the village, she was a healer in training. Beautiful and skilled, she was a good singer and a good craftswoman, making a lot of the clothes the Na’vi hunters wore. 

“Oh, Great Mother, here you are! Your mother told me about your injury, and I had to come find you so I could help!” She kneeled down on the other side of Neteyam from where you were sitting and touched Neteyam’s chest, moving him around looking for the bleed, that was no longer there. 

“Oh, it seems much better now than what was described. I guess it’s true what they say, you really are that skilled.” She turned her attention to you and smiled. 

“Thank you. I don’t think we’ve properly met.”

“You’re right, my bad! I’m Tiongli. Neteyam’s mate.” 

It was so quiet in the room now, you were sure they could both hear your heart break into a million pieces. 

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @k----a27s

[iris-sistibly]

My final take on Queen of Tears? It was a one hell of a fucking journey + Thoughts on the finale

[Warning: Long-ass post ahead]

Queen of Tears released its final episode last Sunday, April 28. The show made history as it became tvN’s most watched drama, surpassing the 2019 hit Crash Landing on You. Park Ji-eun was the writer for both shows.

The story is about a couple who underwent a crisis in their third year of marriage. However, a significant event will not only change their lives but also pave the way for them to rediscover their love for each other. 

I personally got hooked into this show for three reasons:

First, the plot: Marriage tropes in a lot of dramas are usually about infidelity, toxic and abusive relationships that end in a nasty divorce. It happens in real life sadly, but I appreciate the fact that Park Ji-eun took a different route and gave us another realistic side of marriage. A couple who once had this warm, passionate love for each other became cold and distant over time because of one tragic event that left them wounded and broken. There were also other factors that added salt to the wound which caused them to drift further from one another. I’m not gonna go into details because I have already discussed this in earlier episodes. However, I love that there were a couple of flashbacks that tells the viewers of how their love story began, plus some extra bits and pieces in the epilogue that were either related to Hyun-woo and Hae-in’s past, or a particular scene in the current episode that was told from either of the character’s point of view. 

Switching from light and funny scenes to a more intense one then back to swoon-worthy moments and then the last thing you knew you were bawling your eyes out because of the heartbreaking scenes felt like a roller coaster ride, needless to say I was always on edge and I sometimes had to pause in the middle of the episode so I could breathe. That’s how intense the emotions were in this show. Like I have said before, this is not a rom-com but more like a heavy drama with a couple of light and funny scenes.

But the part in this story that appealed to me the most is that it will make you question, how much love can someone truly give? How far can you go to be with the person you love? And when everything seems black and white, would you be willing to stay? Or walk away? 

Second, the characters: Immediately, I was drawn to Baek Hyun-woo and Hong Hae-in. Usually in KDramas, it’s always the male lead who is cool, cold, nonchalant and rich af and the girl is the bubbly, cutesy-cutesy, overly dramatic, and broke. I absolutely LOVE the role reversal. Hae-in is the cool and badass wife while Hyun-woo is the cute, dramatic hubby and together, they make an ✨iconic couple✨. But on a more serious note, a lot of characters nowadays are into the red light/green light spectrum and don’t get me wrong, I love it. Who doesn’t love a green light character right? But again, Park Ji-eun wrote them in such a way that you wouldn’t perceive them as this ultra-perfect, no flaw character, but they aren’t toxic either (except for the main villains of course). A lot of the characters in the show have a good and flawed side, and I love it because that’s what makes them human, they are multi-layered which makes them complex, but at the same time, they were written in such a way that the viewers could have a deeper understanding of the characters, and even relate to them in some ways. 

Again with the exception of the villains, the character developments were so good. Witnessing this whole-ass process of them being flawed and broken characters to becoming the best versions of themselves were just the best.  

Third, the cast: Ah, I can go on and on about how every actor in this show was absolutely amazing! Again, Kim Soo-hyun has proven why he is Korea’s highest paid actor. I love that he can switch from this handsome, smart, and sexy lawyer, to a super cute, loving hubby, and then a man who would fight for his woman no matter what it takes. BITCH! The acting range of this guy is fucking LIMITLESS! As for Kim Ji-won, this is by far her best acting performance in my opinion. Hong Hae-in was such a difficult character to portray, but I love how she was able to effortlessly deliver Hae-in’s stoic, nonchalant exterior and when you look into her eyes you’ll see that vulnerable part of her that no one else except [her husband] sees. 

SooWon’s chemistry on the other hand is GOD-TIER! They were born to play Baek Hyun-woo and Hong Hae-in. Whether it’s a funny, romantic, or heavy scene, they nailed it to perfection! These two are the most married couple I have seen in a show. I feel sad that I’m not gonna see them together on-screen for sometime but I am hoping that they’d be able to work together again in the future. Although my delulu self is manifesting for them to be together irl 😂🤧

Park Sung-hoon, I have said before that he is so good at playing a villain. But I hope he gets to show his ability to portray a nice guy in the future, I need a break from him playing evil. 

Kwak Dong-yeon and Lee Joo-bin’s performances as the second couple deserve to be applauded as well. Despite their characters going through crazy shit, I love that they were able to deliver it on a lighter, heartwarming note in contrast to SoWoon’s heavier scenes.

Special mentions to the following 🗣️:

The Official Playlist of the Show- When I tell you that I have listened to every song in this playlist, I really mean it. I don’t understand the language, but everytime I hear a song from QOT, I can instantly imagine a particular scene from the show, that’s how magical it is. My most replayed song is The Reasons of my Smiles by BSS, but I also love Heize’s Hold me back, and the song that makes me the most emotional: Love you with all my heart by Crush. 

The cinematography: I’m not gonna go into details about the technicalities, but everything was perfectly shot, especially the scenes in Germany–it was dreamy, romantic, and beautiful. 

The crew members who worked behind the camera also need to be praised for the hard work, effort, and dedication they’ve put into making this show. 

There are things however about the show that I didn’t personally like or I think they could have done better. Here’s the link of why I think the storyline isn’t as good as I thought it would be: 

The final episode didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would be, although there were some parts of it that were really good like:

📍 Cheon Da-hye and Grace choosing to take accountability for their past actions (also Grace being the key player in bringing Mo Seul-hee down was the cherry on top) and has been given another chance to live honestly was one of the best character redemptions. 

📍The Hong family reclaiming what’s rightfully theirs, that was such a powerful scene.

📍Hyun-woo and Hae-in looking at each other after Mo Seul-hee was proven guilty for killing Hong Man-dae and all the other bullshits she did to Queens and the Hong family, as if saying, “It’s finally over,” and they did it together was so power couple coded. 

📍Aunt Beom-ja and husband #4 [really] taking their time to get to know each other…like literally. Her facial expression when Yeong-seong kissed her on the cheek instead of the lips like she was expecting was GOLD.

📍Mama and Papa Hong choosing a simpler and quieter life and hanging out with their besties (Mama and Papa Baek).

📍The family portrait of the Hong and Baek family 🥹

📍Hyun-woo and Hae-in taking their time to rebuild their relationship, then goes on to get married and have a baby, then visiting Germany every so often was the most heartwarming scene. 

📍I would say that the ending was a bittersweet one. Hae-in’s premonition came true, she died first and Hyun-woo never failed to visit her grave, and then eventually reuniting was one of the most realistic endings in a Kdrama. They lived a good life, they built a family, grew old together and reunited in the afterlife was beautiful but there was a certain ache in that part, perhaps a reminder that no matter how painful it gets, there is always a silver lining, and if you’re meant to be, you’re meant to be.

However, in addition to my linked post:

📍The first half of the story started really strong, but it dwindled the moment they added all of these ridiculous subplots. One Tumblr user commented that Hyun-woo and Hae-in’s marriage had enough issues as far as drama is concerned and I couldn’t agree more. 

📍I get that Mo Seul-hee is a shitty person but I don’t even know why she chose to prey on Hong Man-dae of all people. She could have done the same to other wealthy families (I mean he’s not the only gullible man out there with tons of money), but the question is, what did the Hong family do to her? Surely, there must have been a deeper meaning than just wanting money but alas, it's a question we'll probably never get an answer too.

📍The good thing is that we now fully understand why Yoon Eun-seong acted the way he did. He has mommy issues, abandonment issues, anger issues, etc. My prediction about him dying in the finale was correct, but there was no character redemption for him thus I don’t see the point on why they had to extend his Hae-in obsession arc towards the end. Take out all the irrelevant subplots, and the story still would have worked.

📍One of my biggest frustrations in the show was the fact that they only addressed BaekHong’s miscarriage after Hae-in lost her memories when they could have done that in the earlier episode (the scene where Hyun-woo and Hae-in had a heart-to-heart conversation about their failed marriage), it’s like the writer forgot about that part–which by the way was such a crucial part then she just inserted this scene somewhere in the finale. 

📍I was also disappointed that Hae-in's mom wasn't the one who comforted her during that scene where Hyun-woo was undergoing surgery after getting shot. It would have been such a perfect opportunity to heal their relationship. Also, I would have appreciated it if Mama Hong was the one who personally apologized to Hyun-woo for being harsh towards him.

📍I know I said that the ending was a more realistic one, but babes we were ROBBED! I would have loved to see a BaekHong wedding part 2, their pregnancy journey and moments with baby Soo-bin but alas, we were deprived of that too. As much as I find the finale realistic, I wouldn’t say that I was satisfied either.

📍I just remembered this now, but Papa Hong's and Aunt Beom-ja's other sibling could have actually contributed to ending the villain arc. He could have made moves to unravel Seul-hee and Eun-seong's crap, but idk writer-nim just placed him there just because 🤷.

Overall, do I think that this show is over hyped? Storywise, yes. As far as the actors’ performances go, they deserve it. 

Is the show worth watching? I’d say it’s worth checking out if you’re someone who likes heavy, intense dramas. If not, avoid this. Again, this is not a light rom-com. 

Would I rewatch? For BaekHong, yes but I’ll skip the irrelevant parts.

Ratings:

Performance: 100/10

OST: 10/10

Cinematography, Editing, etc.: 10/10

Story-telling: 6/10

[choshasan]

Let's talk Fictosexuality and Science for a sec

I previously pisted this on Hoyolab, several weeks ago, but I felt like tumblr needed to hear it too after looking through the #animesexual tag and seing so much uneducated hate.

First of all, Fictosexuality is the attraction to Exclusively **OR** almost exclusively fictional character, and it has many subbranches, that even I myself don't know all of them, and it falls under the umbrealla terms of Asexuality and Aromantism.

My original post from Hoyolab, corrected as best I could:

Fun science fact: a study proved that your brain cannot, in fact, tell apart the feelings you feel for a fictional character, to those you would feel a real human, Other studies have proved that it could be easier to get attached to a character rather than a real human as it is easier to get to know them and know them deeper than you would a real person, (the way they think, their full day to day routine, etc.) Therefore, yes. Scientifically speaking, you could, in fact, 100% fall in love with a fictional character, and it's not being delusional, that's just your brain and emotions working the normal way they should be!

Some of the replies I felt should be brought up:

Reply: I think some of the problem here is that, in English, we only have one word for love & a lot of native English speakers don't understand our single word is actually a spectrum of every type of love that exists; and that a person can feel some types of love without having another person reciprocate those feelings. Combine that lack of understanding with the need to be the winner of any disagreement, and you get people like the ones in this comment section who are saying you're wrong without giving any explanation for their opinion.

>

Me: Yeah, I can 100% see that. I also feel like theres this wrong mentality that a lot of people have been tought that "you HAVE to find THE one and only for you! You MUST find your ONE TRUE LOVE!" When love is totally just a spectrum and that is different for everyone. Semi-unrelated but I also feel thats where the argument that AroAce folks aren't real started from. Because people are just so convinced that everyone just has a one true love and that they'll get their one true love with no work// doing the bare minimum.

There was more replies I wanted to bring up, but filtering through over 600 comments is very hard, espetially when the hoyolab app lags, sorry.

I have so much more I wanna say on the topic because it is a topic that fascinates me, espetially as someone who identifies with Animesexuality and has found great comfort and peace in this lable.

Also, there are some people who would make the counter arguments "Fictional characters aren't a gender"

No, they are not, but you can be Gay/sapphic/lesbian/bi/pan/omni/etc. + Fictosexual.

It's as if saying you can't be aromantic but be attracted to [gender] sexualy. (Or the other way around)

People don't need to limit themselves to one and only one lable, you can be Gay Aromantic, Bi Asexual, for examples and so many more.

Another argument often made is "you can't be attracted to an innanimate object"

... they're not an object, an object needs a physical form to be, first of all.

Second, a character is a representation of a fictive **PERSON** not a fictive Object, they are real humans//creatures, they just don't have a "real physical form".

There's also the "They're not real".

They aren't real human beings that you can touch physically, they are "real". they are created characters that can be percieved, they just don't have a real, touchable physical form, but saying something isn't "real" because it's not an existing person / object on this earth is like saying Air or Gravity doesn't exist because you can't see it with your eyes. They can't be seen but they can be percieved and they are proven to exist. Plus, "they aren't real" they have been created, yes they are. Again, just not under a physical form, do you look at someone painting a landscape and say "it's not real." Because it's painted??? It can be percieved by the human mind therefore it is real in a form or another.

TL;DR: Fictosexuality is a real, science supported even (in a way), sexuality.

Some links to help better understand // further understand;

[that-left-turn]

I can't even remember how long AMC has offered "a downturn in linear ratings and a challenging ad market" as an explanation for their losses. Yes, traditional broadcast and cable are in decline, but they need higher quality shows.

The TWD franchise, which is the bulk of AMC's portfolio, is old. The shows within the 'universe' need to differentiate from each other—every premise can't be about a family member getting kidnapped, but most of all, they need to find renewed appeal to the audience. I assumed the fast variant and les brûlants were an attempt at a new hook, but getting bogged down in quasi-science won't attract much other than heckling.

AMC has committed to the horror space and they can diversify their TWDU offerings with different elements of the genre. The audience will never have that visceral reaction to walkers again that the first few seasons offered. The mutated walker in season 1 of Dead City was mainly interesting from an FX standpoint and a disinterested "that's gross"—there were no stakes because our heroes have plot armor and everyone else is a red shirt.

Horror should induce some kind of feeling of disquiet. There should be a sense of foreboding.

DC should capitalize on Maggie and Negan's antagonism, but the conceit isn't moving anywhere. There are a lot of hard stares which quickly feel irrelevant and some fans have turned it into a ship because the relationship has stagnated. The audience should have a palpable fear that they will eventually harm each other as the tension escalates. They are both trying to move on: him from being his worst self and her from the worst thing that happened to her. The emotional arc needs to center on that potential loss of their humanity. They are the protagonist in their own arc and the antagonist in in the other's—that framing would be different from what we've already seen on TWD.

I don't even know where to start with Caryl... Trying to find a boat that sails across the Atlantic isn't horror and neither is the debate on whether or not Laurent is a Messiah. (If it's to be religious horror, we need some sort of spiritual evil and the characters in season 1 are simply self-serving.) S1 of Daryl Dixon felt like it didn't have any interest in being a horror show beyond a half-hearted attempt at the bare minimum: the required walkers are thrown into the mix like an almost-afterthought.

Caryl are at the opposite end of the spectrum from Maggie and Negan. They work exceptionally well together and that's part of the draw for the audience, but add an element of the Uncanny, like in FROM:

In a nightmarish town in Middle America that traps those who enter, unwilling residents strive to stay alive and search for a way out, plagued by terrifying nocturnal creatures from the surrounding forest and secrets hidden in the town.

It would present Caryl with a new challenge. Something different. The GA would have a mystery to ponder and Caryl fans could enjoy watching Caryl work on a new sort of problem together. Something they haven't faced before and something that has them stumped. It would lend itself to an emotional arc where they can come to terms with their mutual feelings of inadequacy, because they can see how well they function together when everything else is a challenge.

The key to growing the audience for either of these shows is to transform the concept into something that's attractive in today's market, not a 15-year old formula. AMC needs to set the franchise apart from TLoU too because they suffer from the comparison.

We as an audience are desensitized to body horror—blood and guts have become gratuitous gimmicks that try to cover up that there isn't much of a story. Good horror relies on ambiance, much like S2 of TWD. Fear of the unknown. A creeping sense of dread. That's why viewers (and Norman!) loved the farm arc of the flagship show.

AMC is cash poor because they don't invest in the writing. Their business model (basic cable) is dying, but they're staring too hard at "new technologies." If the studio told good stories, people would subscribe to their streaming service. Distilling the audience into niches of TWD's viewership by focusing the spinoffs on a couple of characters requires AMC to find fresh angles so new viewers will discover these shows. The studio spends too much money on theatrics and not enough on the nuts and bolts of what makes a TV show good: its writing.

David Zabel has no experience writing horror and it's evident from viewing S1 that he clearly has no interest in it. His original characters are dollar store versions of the Roy family in Succession: manipulative and self-absorbed. For horror to be effective, the audience has to care and we don't. (We're mainly waiting for them to die, because that's the TWD brand: raze and burn with no one left alive in the wake of our heroes.) Zabel's an old school network writer who hasn't worked consistently in the last decade, which I assume means AMC got him at a bargain bin price.

I want to feel excitement at TBOC, but I mostly feel dread. That's the real horror show.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

Ellaaaa please tell us about your show!!! I want the whole account (if you want to/when you have time ofc)!! I'm so happy you got to hear fine line live ahhh you totally deserved it!!!

AAAAAAHHHHHHHH KIND ANON I CAN SCREAM ABOUT IT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

so we had front of stage tickets and it was 100% the best ticket ive ever had so far: zero effort for an insane view and a fantastic place in the crowd with all the space we needed to dance and more. i've queued before and just really never want to again for more than enough reasons, and here was shown how i seriously didn't need to.

wet leg was epic. i am obsessed with them they are so fucking cute and also cool and also hot and also good. yes. i screamed my frustrations to the sky with them and all was good in the world.

and then. i'll just say immediately that the setlist is fantastic and definitely the best collection of songs i've ever heard of his, despite lights up not being there. the beginning was super fun and energetic, he is a master showperson, but it's in a way that is uniquely his. you can look at him and be in awe of the grandiose performance filling that entire stage, and then see that he's also smirking, skipping along the runway and pulling faces at his band. it's just. !!!!!!!!! you know?!?!?

my soul left my body during stockholm syndrome. goosebumps forever, bc of the sheer disbelief that im hearing a 1d song live. harry smiling, us screaming.

i've always wanted to hear she live, too, so that was just... mesmerizing. there were orchids projected on stage and it was all so perfectly fitting. our orchid, our mermaid. note the colors as well :')

then it was a big fucking party. just dancing and singing like we've never done before. he really felt happy and like he felt good, so happy and jokey. he grabbed Three pride flags during tpwk, and this was my first time witnessing the brass quartet as well. it was a BIG FUCKING PARTY

grapejuice is also so fun live. it's always such an experience to hear him sing a song live that he hasn't really sung before. i could tell that it's a tough one to sing, but he made it fun and quirky and cute.

aaaaaand THEN HE SANG FINE LINE. he sang fine line. holy shit. this is like. i grieved when he decided to stop singing it last european leg, it hit me hard. i think i've said it a shitton of times already on here but fine line is a song i listen to every morning and every night, it's the only thing that can calm me through a panic attack. it's an anthem of perseverance, hope and self-love. hearing it live was just me being transfixed, mesmerized, by what was unfolding in front of me, and slowly crying more and more. a tight tight hug from @bluewinnerangel through the sobs at the end was necessary bc we were all falling apart. in the best way

the darkness and pause after that were also necessary to get us back on track, for a show that was going to rake us through the entire spectrum of the human emotion once more. sign of the times was just. gasp

the PARTY that then ensued during wmyb. that bse intro is something else. any 1d reference obviously unlocks something unhinged in my brain that makes me fucking lose it, but hooooly shit. it goes SO HARD. wmyb always does and i'll never get sick of it.

to finish us off, of course, we have our rock: kiwi. the heaviness of that intro is addictive. his menacing gaze when he's choosing who to soak. the fucking SONG GOES SO HARD. IM HAVING YOUR BABAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

and then it was over. but it felt extra extra good bc i knew i would be experiencing it again hahahrghr and my body is definitely stiff from the legit workout i did during the concert last night so. holy shit fuck yes

[coffee-and-cusswords]

tagged by @faeriehannah to share 4 albums that are regularly in my rotation 🫡 (thank you!)

The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds: probably a perfect pop album? i love this record to death and always revisit it every summer. (learning that the percussion sound in "caroline, no" was an empty soda bottle felt like listening to it again for the first time)

Daft Punk - Discovery: it's incredible how fresh it still sounds. a legit 10/10, genre-defining album/cultural touchstone/essential listen/yadda yadda etc etc it's all true.

Vampire Weekend - Contra: my favorite album of theirs. it sounds like spring to me and so many of my fav live performances are off this one

J Dilla - Donuts: i don't think there's much more I can add that hasn't already been said. the way he managed to express the full spectrum of human emotions without even using his own words is truly incredible.

HONORABLE MENTION:

The Avalanches - Since I Left You

yeah i had to add another one. this album + discovery kind of occupy the same space in my brain. like discovery, it's incredibly creative and still sounds fresh today. the title track is just so lush, beautiful, and perfectly suits that late spring/early summer feeling.

(this was so hard, sorry i took forever!)

i'll tag @notreallyricky @oneheartoverthemoon @imaginearies @blue-spruce-bruce @rostovs if you would like to share!

[princess-of-the-corner]

Yet More Random Quirks!

In case you need OCs!

(Note: I’m reblogging all these with the tag “quirk ideas”, if you suddenly need to find them)

+

Insomnia: User does not sleep. At all. Ever. They don’t even nap. They do not require sleep, and can function perfectly fine without it. That said, they do require “rest” periods of lesser activity.

+

Paral-eyes: User can “paralyze”/“freeze” any moving/living object within their sight line. If sightline is interrupted, freeze will only last a few moments before wearing off, unless sightline returns. Can train to extend this timeframe, so the freeze lasts longer without constant sightline.

+

Mood Ring: User can see the emotions of others as a coloured “aura” hanging around them (these colours line up rather nicely with a mood ring’s emotion chart).

(Note: I think I gave this one to Saito? Like, Himiko’s old crush?)

+

Edi-fist: (edifice/edible/fist) User has mouths in their hands (on the palms) that can eat through just about anything. The mouths can open wide, splitting the arm to the elbow. Extra sharp teeth. User can eat and digest things that most people cannot, such as solid metal.

+

Pulse: User can send out pulses of energy in time with their heartbeat.

+

Silver Lining: User can create clouds which they can manipulate. Clouds can support their weight, and the weight of others.

(Since I don’t know what Oboro’s Quirk is called, this is what I’m calling it. Based on “Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining”.)

+

Ladybug: User has physiology similar to that of a ladybug. Has extra limbs, a “shell” which hide a pair of wings, and very sharp teeth (mandibles). User can secrete an absolutely foul smelling liquid when they are scared. Their blood is toxic to others.

+

Guardian: a general physical enhancement & durability quirk, that activates when the user is “protecting” something or someone.

+

Were-Beast (Qualifier): I’ve submitted this one before, but just clarifying it. Were-Beast is technically a sub-section of Quirks. They are classified as a transformative mutation type Quirk, commonly called Therians (based on Therianthropy, the term in mythology for a being who change into an animal form). User can transform into a beastial form, much like a werewolf, though the beast form can vary a lot. To have a “Were” Quirk, there must be a transformative element. For instance, Miruko does not count as a “Were-rabbit”, as her mutation is consistent, and she cannot change it. If Miruko could, in addition to her standard rabbit/human form, transform into a more rabbit like creature, her Quirk would be classified as a Therian Quirk.

+

Spider: User has physiology reminiscent of a spider. Has eight limbs (usually six arms), sharp teeth, eight eyes. Can shoot “silk” from their mouths (and possibly hands). Possibly venomous. Other features vary by the “severity” of mutation.

+

Bounce: User can also manipulate kinetic energy, so they “bounce” off of objects rather than smash into them. Can also be used to “bounce” away physical attacks, or to propel themselves away. User could jump ridiculous heights and distances. Only effects user.

+

Emotion Null: User can suppress, “dilute”, and/or “negate” the emotions of others. (Note: this is not TRUE negation, but blocking the emotion from being felt). User may or may not be immune to their own Quirk.

+

Darn Knit: User’s hair is either thread or yarn. They can pull/grow “needles” from either their nails or teeth. They can manipulate any thread they create, and stitch together anything their needles can penetrate.

+

Headlight: User has an organ or growth on their forehead that can emit light. Light’s colour can be changed, and it can even be different spectrums of light. Enough training, (or possibly a Quirk awakening?) could cause the light emitted to become a laser.

+

Demonic (I can’t think of a good pun, cause the only one I thought of I’m using as an actual hero name): User has what could be termed “demonic” physiology. Goat-like body, head and face, horns, hoof-like feet, claws, long tail, bat wings. Can also come with the ability to spread a “toxin”, a cloud of dust or mist that inebriates any who breathe it in.

(Note: came up with this for an OC Hero, based in America. Calls himself the Jersey Devil. He has a daughter, that took after him just enough that she looks like a Unicorn, and inherited her mom’s healing Quirk.)

+

Angel: User has large, white feathered wings, and glowing golden horns that fuse at the top to form a “halo”. User has healing abilities.

(In case you couldn’t tell, this was the mom)

-

I love all of these

[zhoras-bitch]

My Playchoices MCs #10

Elf girl with a bow? Groundbreaking, I know. Well, what can I say except I'm a Tolkien fangirl fist and a person second. Anyhow, meet my Blades MC Ray! Super happy to finally give her the roguish kind of outfit I always envisioned. And a bunch of other details too! It was a very fun edit to make. Notes below!

First | Previous | Next | All

Twilight elf is purely a headcanon thing. We don't know anything about elven ethnicities in the Blades universe, so I stole the idea of different elven ethnicities from DnD.

I wasn’t vibing with the canon name (Raine), but I wanted to keep the anagram with Aerin. Thus, Reina. She rarely ever uses her full name though, and most only know her by her nickname Ray.

She’s very sensitive, both in literally having keen senses as an elf and being a very empathetic person. She’s very intuitive as well, often making decisions based on what feels right, without being able to explain why.

At the beginning of the story, she's not a very good fighter, only ever using her bow for hunting. But she's observant and endlessly creative. So her fighting style is all about using her surroundings and coming up with ingeniously convoluted plans on the fly. And it somehow works!

She genuinely likes most people, and they respond in kind. Her ability to see the best in everyone is a blessing and a curse, because on the one hand, she has no trouble connecting with all sorts of folk (people, animals, weird fish monsters...), but on the other, she is always blind-sighted by the darker aspects of human (and non-human) nature.

Her playfulness and friendliness are often misconstrued as flirting, which is especially frustrating for her since Ray is on the aroace spectrum.

Started learning medicine to help Kade, and became quite good at it. She likes to help people in pain, be it physical or emotional. Before leaving Riverbend, gathering healing herbs and making remedies was her main source of income.

Being two years older than Kade, Ray's always felt the responsibility to take care of him. Kade rightfully suspects that Ray never left Riverbend because of him, and even though Ray herself would never hold it against him, it's an unspoken weight between the two.

Can never back away from a dare.

Every authority figure’s worst nightmare. 

Like Kade, loves songs and poetry. Kade is the better musician, but Ray has the better singing voice. When Kade was composing something new, she would often tune in, and they’d just start throwing rhymes at each other. Ray was always too restless to write her own poetry down, but she started doing it after Kade’s disappearance, so that she could share it after Kade comes back.

Doesn’t like thinking about the future. The understanding that she'll outlive everyone she’s ever known terrifies her.

Light sleeper. When she can’t sleep, Ray likes taking long walks, just absorbing the sounds and sights of the world around her. She likes how serene nature is at night.