#just...get the image out of my head plz😭

[enha-doodles]

i wanna see the slytherin boys and a muggle reader who loves to crochet things for then and gift them crochet stuff ♡♥︎♡

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU CROCHETING THEM STUFF | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore, Lorenzo, Draco) x reader

Notes : lmao this one is actually kinda cute and very fluffy , tysm for the request and I hope you like it!! Each one is getting a different crochet stuff so yeah :)

Also if you can plz lmk which reaction y'all liked the most or which guy's part you like the most in whatever reaction you read on my blog so I can write in a similar way 🧸🧸

Warnings : none coz this is pure fluff ><

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Bro is constantly annoying you and trying to get your attention while you crochet . He'd be trying all sorts of stuff like making funny faces or litteraly picking you up , but you'd scold him if you loose the thread and he'd look like a kicked puppy :) After you're done you'd hand him a scarf , similar to your house colors so that if he wears it outside it'll blend with the uniform .

He would be all like "i can't wear that out darling" And when you'd ask why he'd say that he's too manly to wear something cutesy like that and that he has an image to maintain . The next day you'd catch him wearing it while he smoked with his friends ��🏻

TOM RIDDLE

Mr marvalo has no reaction whatsoever when you hand him the cute crocheted bunny . He'd just nod and put it in his pocket kissing your head . Doesn't utter a single word . He finds it ridiculous - ridiculously cute but he throws the thought as soon as it comes . He'd rather be called a Hufflepuff than admit that he finds something cute coz pfttt?!?

He's a smartass though so he'd make that bunny - a horcrux . It's the first thing you made by yourself and he loves it so dearly that he splits his soul for it , besides who are you kidding no one would suspect a crocheted bunny to be the dark lord's horcrux .

THEODORE NOTT

He has a greatt fashion sense (that's something for being an Italian man y'all ) and he absolutely . loves . when you crochet him stuff . You often make him sweaters and gloves and he proudly wears it , his style adding charm to your stuff .

He also boasts it to his friends . Believe it or not he'd kinda have a fashion show upon everyone's request . He'd have a blank face (his resting bitch face) while he walks a straight line towards the couch filled by his friends , showing off the knitted sweater pretending to be a model as you laugh with mattheo . Also makes you stand up at last for credits offcourse.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

My guy is in absolute love with you and tries to engage in everything you do so when you gift him a crocheted bouquet , he firstly squeaks like a girl upon recieving it and then tries to make a bouquet for you aswell . Him trying to learn crochet is like a love letter to you .

But in the process of making it , he turns it into a competition 😭😭 when he finshes making it and all your lovey dovey stuff is over he'd joke that his bouquet is better than yours ( it wasn't.) Also hattsoff to him because he bears all the teasing of his friends trying to make it for you . Pure gentlemen istg uggh

DRACO MALFOY

He doesn't like muggle things so he'd go blabbering about why you're doing it on your own when he can just sway a hand and it will be made by itself. ( So much for having a magic wand little boy 😒) Would be grumbling and yapping for HOURS and would finally shut up when you shove his miniature crocheted version in his face .

He be sooo shocked , stuttering and fumbling with his words . Heart eyes for real . Would absolutely love it and he'd keep it with him all the time , he loves you and well his mini self aswell .

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

TAGLIST : @sugarcandydoll @helendeath

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

I beg u plz more ghost face x child!reader (platonic of course!) like…Stu and billy just got back to their place and the reader runs up to them but they trip and hurt their knee and one of them is trying to calm down the reader while the other one goes to get bandages and stuff? I really like your ghost face stuff and take your time have a good day/night!

Ok ok ong it's literally during my exam but it's sunday so i have a day off and I've been itching to touch this dead account again ahaha. (Note I'll be back on i think Thursday or a week later)

A/n: this is literally crack

Ghostfaces x child! reader (pla)

Who would've thought to see two infamous haunting serial killers were fussing over a crying child.

Strangers on the street witnessing a man in a really recognizable ghostface costume, half yelling and half whispering at a child on the ground to stop crying and trying to bribe them with money while sounding on the verge of breaking down himself. While the other seemingly calm but power walks to who knows where urgently.

One of the strangers too close for comfort, try to quietly and cautiously dial 911.

"Uhm hello...? I think a child is being harassed and attacked by two grown men in a ghostface costume..."

"What?"

"are you calling the cops on us?"

The woman screamed and rushed to get away somewhere but got caught by ghostface's/stu's knife thanks to his quick movement.

"Hello ma'am? Hello? Are you there? Ma'a-"

Stu crushed the phone. He was already stressed enough by the little kid on the ground with a small, scratched and bleeding knee having tears over their face.

Internally screaming at Billy to hurry tf up because he doesn't know what to do. He lifts you up and runs to where Billy was headed.

"Why do kids have to be like this!?" The man cries out with a small infant in his arms who cries along with him.

Billy ran off to somebody's house to break in and steal nothing but all of their medkit. Goddamn he should've caught and noticed you were losing your balance when you came to greet them so lovingly.

He body slammed into a large window, somehow managed to get in and ran to find the bathroom, it took a couple of minutes but once he did he was absolutely violating the hell out of the bathroom mirror. Then his last straw came. The fucking light of a flashlight shoved up his face.

"Uhm excuse me. what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

"...."

He then proceeded yell out curses and body slam directly into the person's head which ended up in him losing more than half of the products in his hands but he didn't care. He just needed to gtfo.

Now the infamous ghostface was yet again spotted with a bundle of medicine and running around. I wonder what image this will have on the ghostface industry.

Now the two bumped into each other miraculously and now were currently working on making you stop because their adrenaline has run out completely.

"Billy what do we do!?"

"How the hell should i know."

*you softly still sobbing*

Which didn't even take long fortunately since the pain decreases overtime. Now they were also seen holding a sleeping kid with a bandage wrapped around their knee. Let's just hope word doesn't get around.

So sorry this didn't contain much reader 😭🙏🙏

[thief-of-eggs]

HELLO LOVE <3

Brainworms have been worming extra hard since I stumbled upon your Bruce and Jay post (plus the doomed narratives one,, BELOVED), honestly those two make me so fucking ill oh my god. The tags on ur post? So true. Kith ur tags on the head. LO VE LOVE <3333 adding a little to the discussion since I am ill (and if you don't mind!!)

LOVE THE DOOMED NARRATIVE because their reconciliation is never possible imo. Grief is a wretched force that has twisted Jason's memory from the image of his beloved son into a detached, reckless amalgamation. Bruce compartmentalises to such a degree that if he has to keep functioning (both as Batman and as Bruce Wayne) that he can't possibly face the fact that his actions killed his son. His mission born out of the death of his parents couldn't have killed that bright child who was albeit a little angry at times but so full of compassion and life, right? Right?

But he has to continue. And because he does, he has to, on an internal level, make himself believe that Jason was doomed from the start. That he was too reckless. That he was too much of a mess. That he should've never been Robin (which is true in a different sense, but this line of reasoning is not it) and was destined to die. Bruce's messy cycle of grief has concluded. Acceptance comes in the form of his cherished son now being seen as 'his greatest failure, a reckless Robin, a good soldier.'

And unfortunately, the whole thing about Jason is that he is continually trying to communicate with the Bruce he remembers before he died. They're both on completely different pages in this conversation, and Jason is so mentally ill—oh my god, PTSD?—and he's trying to communicate with someone who doesn't remember him as he was. Plus, Gotham is such an intrinsic part of him that he can never pull away from it. He just gets stuck in a cycle, continually pulling away and then reaching out, and then pulling away—essentially in Limbo.

SJSJOSAOSKSOS I DO LOVE THE BRUCE AND JAY RECONCILE NARRATIVE 😭😭 THEY'RE BOTH NUANCED CHARACTERS, I BELIEVE IN THEM BUT GOD... the amount of growth they'd have to show from both their sides for that to ever happen??? YEAH. NO. 😭😭 AaaaaAAAA

ANYHOW. RANDOM WORDDUMP. U HAVE COOL AF POSTS !!!!! much love !!!!! Thank u for appearing on my tl :D !!!!!

HELLO HELLO!!! WELCOME !!

PLZ add on omg RAHHHHHH !!! Nothing makes me feel more loved as a writer and poster than seeing people get inspired by my silly little words and seeing them expand on !!!!

Also yes yes YES Jason Todd is one of my favorite muses for doomed narratives!! Every single goddamn relationship that kid attempts to have is destined to fail. From his mom to his short-lived time as Bruce’s apprentice/son, to his fragile and tense relationships with his almost-but-not-quite siblings.

Jaw on the floor, first off. Do you write??? Please do you write???? I need to read more of your words if so bc you understand these characters on SUCH a deep level UGH

“-he can’t possibly face the fact that his actions killed his son” - THIS THIS THIS !!!! Bruce is an immovable wall with Jason because he CANNOT accept the accountability. It’s like Jason is having a completely different battle with him, because Jason sees things for as they are, if not a little tainted by his own begrudged feelings, but meanwhile Bruce is seeing things through a clouded lens of denial. Bruce doesn’t understand the pain he caused Jason because he cannot even see it. It does not exist in his mind. Because to accept the pain is to accept WHY the pain is there, which in turn would just spiral out of control and Bruce is forced to accept that his no-kill ideal ended up digging his son’s own grave.

Ugh LOVE the idea of Bruce gaslighting himself into thinking this was how it was always fated to be. Putting the blame not on himself or Jason or the Joker, but on some higher being that he doesn’t even believe in. It’s such a Bruce coping mechanism. Sweeping everything under the rug bc now he can’t see it. IM UNWELL

YES YES THEY ARE ON SUCH DIFFERENT PAGES!!! YOU GET IT!!! They literally are having two separate conversations and neither understands why their words aren’t sinking in to the other. They may as well be talking to their own hallucinations at this point- Jason at the memory of his father and Bruce at the doomed ghost of a boy who once was.

And YUP that’s why I write little “good dad bruce” fics and read so many too, because I WANT them to reconcile but… in the actual real world reality? I think the best they could do is an uncomfortable middle ground. Where Jason is no longer antagonized, but not exactly welcomed either. He’d have an expected seat at the table, but he’d never come. He’d be on every place card, every invite, but he’d never show up. He’d be included, but would choose to stay away. And that breaks my heart but also I truly don’t think either of them can go beyond that. In an effort to cling to familiarity and sanity and a guilt free life, Bruce pushed his biggest regret away. He could have had his son back, but instead he chose to believe it couldn’t be true. And like the greatest self fulfilled prophecy, he made it true.

ANYWAY THANK YOU FOR STOPPING BY AND BLESSING MY INBOX !!! seeing so many words made my itty bitty heart so happy. biggest MWAH to you <33

[moonlightdancer26]

Hello There.

this is kinda weird and meta and i cannot tell if it’s written coherently so plz just hear me out

so yk how J*R admitted that, when she was writing OOTP at the same time as the first movie was being made, she made a lot of the changes/revelations we see for severus’ character bc she liked alan rickman’s portrayal so much? her only valid opinion

prior to that it is much easier to see the relationship between james/the marauders and severus as ‘slytherin vs gryffindor antagonistic’

(the prank (PoA) is imo played off more as ‘sirius was in the wrong by organising it, james did better by following severus and getting him out of there’ without input from OOTP)

anyway, this is all to say that pre-OOTP james and post-OOTP james feel like very different characters, bc one is very much good-guy-in-the-making and the other is the worst of the worst, and i think it can be brought back to J*R’s inability to write interesting slyth vs gryff rivalries without resorting to bullying and harassment from one party (the way she writes slytherins makes me want to smash my head against walls)

what do you think? bc this is coming from a kinda biased marauders stan, pro-james perspective, even though i dont hate young!sev in the slightest

i feel like a lot of my issues with this whole thing can be summed up by The TERF Bitch Can’t Write, And Now We Suffer Because Of It

I’ve heard of that claim before, and iirc I’ve seen a source of her saying that a long time ago, but could you tell where cause I’d love to confirm this? 😭 She had already had Snape’s arc planned out because during the earlier films Alan wanted to quit his role because playing Evil Greasy Potions Master might get him type-casted (since he’s played villains before) and he didn’t want that, so Rowling decided to tell him about the grandiose reveal in DH, which is what made him stay.

what do you think? bc this is coming from a kinda biased marauders stan, pro-james perspective, even though i dont hate young!sev in the slightest

I actually think that was the point. In the earlier books we’re led to believe that Snape had no good reason for hating Harry’s dad and only resented James (and Harry) because he was a popular, loved Gryffindor and a talented Quidditch player. It was a bit of a red herring, and in PoA when Sirius and Remus are introduced we’re told about the prank and since Harry already hates Snape, obviously loves his father, and wants to know more info about his parents because he now knows two people who were the closest of friends with them, he assumes Sirius is right and evil Sneep Snoop is wrong and was just being petty as per usual. So for the first five books the readers are like “yo James is the perfect awesome guy and Snape is the jealous bad one,” which is increased when we remember James is a Gryffindor and Severus was a Slytherin, we sort of get the same image as Harry and Draco. It’s an extremely black-and-white image, the dawning realisation that it might not be just a simple rivalry/jealously-issue is what makes SWM in the 5th book so jaw-dropping to all of us, because we actually realise that it wasn’t the whole story. “Snape was right all along” is a super scary realisation for Harry, especially since it makes him completely rethink the image of his father that’s been painted for him by basically everyone around him, everyone except the one character Harry despises most of all.

This isn’t to say JKR doesn’t make shit decisions in writing, I 100000% get what you’re saying, but I think this was deliberately written that way so it can to be a big build-up to the plot twist. (Doesn’t make it very well-written, but it was still her intention ig.) and tbh the fact that we have so many unanswered questions/concerns about the plot holes/arcs/writing/etc and have to fill it in with the most plausible assumptions really goes to show how overrated JKR’s writing is and how her series has been enriched mostly by its fandom.

Also dw you’ve gotten your point across very well, I always get concerned with my writing because I’m worried it just sounds like a pile of unorganised bullshit 💀

[philliamwrites]

Tw for body image issues

Ok, so what about eren x virgin reader. Shes kinda nervous, 1 for the pain, cause his hands are bigger then hers, let alone his dick so shes a bit 💫scared💫 but erens just super sweet and gentle and saying how they can stop whenever. Reader also wants to fuck with the lights off. Erens taking off her clothes but shes still covering up and hes saying shes beautiful but she says something like "but u havnt seen all of me, u may not like the rest" and he is just 💫not havin it💫 cause he thinks shes beautiful, he will not tolerate a debate rn. he grabs her wrists to hold above her head so she cant cover up and just goes to town kissing all down her body, then he gets to down there and says something like "hmm, idk if u deserve my tongue rn, only good girls get what they want. Be a good girl and say ur beautiful for me" so she does but hes not playing fair, he goes back to her neck and leaves hickeys all the way down her body. Just adoring her, being all sweet and saying all this nice stuff. But also being dirty cause boys got a mouth on him xD

He is just relentless in his praise, but also mean cause he knows you wanna go the easy route and cover up and shy away, but he is refusing. He will pick u up and fibger u against the wall, just to prove ur not heavy. Boy will eat u out for hours but u can only come when hes convinced that u beleive him.

"Say it, or ill stop right now..."

"Fine, im pretty, now plz let me cum!"

"I can hear it in your voice that your just saying that, i need u to beleive it" and thr fucker just keeps teasing u like that.

Mans is ruthless 🥴🥴

Sorry it took me a while to get back to you nonny!!

But damn, why you hitting me so hard where my own insecurities lie omggg 😭😭😭

Warnings: fem!Reader x Eren; mirror sex, vaginal sex, cockwarming (kinda)

But for real, listen, Eren would make sure your first time with him goes as smooth as possible. Mr. Tough-Guy Tattoos On His Knuckles’ favourite movie is Up and HE IS SUCH A ROMANTIC. He’ll make sure that you feel safe and damn, he’s been in relationships before, but he’s never felt THIS driven to put his everything into making sure that you feel save, loved, and understood.

I’m talking about him going the extra mile to make it all as comfortable and inviting and relaxing as possible. Clean bed sheets (smelling like him), some nice candles for the mood, your favourite comfort movie, take-out. You guys would also have had long conversations about do’s and don’ts, something that Eren was very adamant on having even though you were unsure and afraid that it would prove more how unexperienced you are.

But when you two fuck, he’s so super aware and tuned to how you react to everything he says, every time he touches you. My boy can’t comprehend how you can’t see how absolutely drop dead gorgeous you are—the face you make when he drills into you, the sweet moans floating to his ears when he drapes your legs over his shoulders and eats you out, the way your body jerks and spasms when you’re so high on pleasure that your eyes roll back—he’s like a man on a mission to make you see it for yourself.

So I’ll raise you one: MIRROR SEX. EREN WILL FUCK YOU WHILE MAKING YOU WATCH YOURSELF IN A MIRROR. You know it. I know it. We all know it. He finds something he needs to do and it’s all he’ll think about until it’s done. Having you on his lap, bouncing you on his dick as though your life depends on it, all while looking at yourself.

“Still thinking you’re not pretty?” he mumbles against your neck, scraping the tender flesh with his teeth. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you can already see bruises forming.

“I—I’m—” You can’t even form a full sentence, mind foggy with pleasure. Your whole body is tense from how crazy good Eren’s dick feels. Seeing how it disappears inside you, how easily he moves you on top of him as though you weigh nothing (it makes you think vulgar, nasty things, something new you’ve learnt about yourself: that you’re just a fleshlight for Eren’s pleasure, that he can use you however he wants, fill you up whenever he wants and somehow thinking this makes your blood run hotter, your quivering thighs putting more effort into moving your body on top of his)—

“Fuck, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Eren asks. He slings an arm around your waist and holds you still, which gives you a pause from him abusing your hole with his ridiculous large dick, but now there’s constant pressure against the most sensitive spot inside you. Your head rolls back on his shoulder and you take big, deep breaths, trying to relax.

“Babe, come on.” His hands wander up to your tits, squeezing them, pinching your hard nipples. “We agreed you wouldn’t look away.”

“It’s just… so much,” you reply, your voice thick with pleasure. Eren’s hands stop exploring your body for a moment.

“Want me to stop?”

Just the thought sends a bolt of horror through you. You quickly shake your head, not trusting your own voice. Eren chuckles into the crook of your neck.

“Then open your eyes for me. Pretty please.”

You blink your eyes open. Eren rewards you with a sweet kiss to your cheek. His hands knead your tense muscles in your thighs, your lower back. “That’s my good girl.”

Another new thing you’ve learnt: hearing Eren’s praises makes your knees wobble and warmth spread inside your chest. You want to be good for him. You want to please him and make him happy. When he taps your chin tenderly, you turn your head and look at yourself in the mirror.

“See, so pretty for me. You think so too, don’t you? That you’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful angel.”

His honey-smooth voice is like sweet balm to your heated skin, but the words are flames burning you from the inside. Instinct dictates you to hide your face, draw into yourself like a turtle retreating into its shell.

Since you take too long to answer, Eren catches your chin between thumb and index finger and forces you to look back at yourself in the mirror. “You gotta say it too. Or else I won’t move.”

“Ohhh, come one, Eren. Please,” you whine, circling your hips to get some friction. He stops you by holding onto your waist.

“Say it. Or else we’ll stop.”

He leaves you no wiggling room—literally.

“’m pr’tty,” you mumble, not meeting your own eyes in the reflection.

“What?” Eren runs his mouth along your jawline. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I—I’m pretty,” you repeat, a little louder but your voice quivers and your heart isn’t into it.

Eren, of course, notices.

“Hmmm, you don’t sound too convinced to me.” He squishes your cheeks with one hand while the other sneaks down, past your soft belly to where you two are connected. “How about this: you say it like you mean it and I’ll reward you.” To give you a taste of his promise, he brushes the rough pads of his fingers over your clit in slow, lazy circles. “Try again.”

This man is no joke 🥵🥵

He’ll give you plenty opportunities to rethink your opinion on yourself because he’ll worship your body and tell you how much he loves you and how beautiful you are every chance he gets. NEXT STEP: TEACHING YOU HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF WITH SOME SOFTLY GUIDED SELF PLEASURING JESUS SOMEONE LOCK THIS GUY UP—

[connorsui]

Kovia....kovia, my love ...I need a latte with a side of undiagnosed depression 💔 ... I swear to God it will be like $6.50 with an uninsured therapy session because whyyyyy in the godsss yOU ALWAYS BE HITTING ME IN THE SOUL WHERE IT HURTS!?!?...it's like ..you expect the package the come with some level of sweets and adoration to hit and just one dose of devotion ...💔

But no matter what ..that Amazon package is going to make you depressed with a need for alcohol to drown you away from your sorrows

But you know sum?? ...sum that heavily made me imagine as I continued on with ur lovable words?? ..is that simon picked up painting ...in order to try and remember us ...regretting every second that he never allowed us to take pictures of us together ...or just pictures of ourselves ...cuz now even in his state ...he can't even make a proper image of us ..💔😭😭

Like I can't get this out of my head to think that simon in his later years developed some form of dementia ..and can literally no longer remember our face or our body ..but can remember our voice and how we sounded when we laughed or smiled ...

And physically and mentally making me hurt in the inside

Thoooo let me tell you sum cuz no matter how many times I get hurt I will always be coming back no matter what ✨️💅🏻...cuz I do be loving how your words be making me feel ...they always be hitting me and making me imagine the scenario for the entire night in my delusions and it's sum I HEAVVILLYYYY LOVEEE🩷🩷🩷🩷😩😩😩

Like plz I beg and I will pay just watch me hand you my money 🩷✨️

Simon Riley hated photographs, but still, you begged him to take pictures together, eager to preserve the precious memories you created. Simon, steadfast in his convictions, had always refused. He remembered your voice breaking after begging and begging him to take a picture with you.

But what if our memory is not enough? What if we forget what we had together?

I promise you, love. As long as I'm breathing, I'll never let that happen. Our memories will always be enough for me.

Out of respect for his wishes, you had reluctantly ceased your requests, choosing to cherish the moments you shared in the fleeting present. You got rid of all the old photos of yourself, telling yourself that if Simon didn’t need them neither did you.

Now, standing alone before your casket, Simon's regret weighed heavy on his heart like an anchor dragging him down into the depths of despair. He longed for a tangible memento of your time together, a photograph to serve as a beacon of light amidst the darkness of his grief. 

But time, that relentless thief of memories, had a cruel way of distorting even the most cherished recollections. 

With each passing year, the image of you grew increasingly hazy in his mind, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Desperate to hold onto the essence of you, Simon turned to the only medium he knew, drawing. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, he painstakingly sketched your features from memory, pouring his soul into each stroke of the pencil. 

But the passage of time had a way of eroding even the most vivid recollections, and each attempt to capture your likeness resulted in a different interpretation, leaving Simon haunted by the ever-shifting image of the one he loved.

Alone in his grief, Simon found solace in the act of creation, pouring his sorrow onto the blank canvas before him. Each sketch became a silent tribute to your memory, a fleeting glimpse of the love that once illuminated his world. And though the years may pass and the memories may fade, one thing remained constant.

Simon's unwavering devotion to the one he had loved and lost.

[myvalittleworld]

Just "accidentally" saw the gifs set of Adrian...Even though I don't like him, he deserves SO MUCH BETTER🤦‍♀️

At this point, I started to anger at what Richelle made me go through.

[anakin-pilled]

OOOHHH IM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS ANDRA!!!! and HAUNTED???? such a good song choice omgggg the intensity of the song matched the intensity of this chapter 100% ughhhhh i love!!!! i am so sad for MiM to end, but you are doing such a great fucking job at it!! this chapter may be my favorite so far AHHHHHHHHH hugs and kisses for you 🥰💖😮‍💨

Like this, in this light, with a peaceful look on your face, eyelashes casting shadows over your lapis cheeks, your tahni glowing dimly and flickering softly, your lips slightly parted as you breathed in and out, you reminded him a lot of the Vi he used to love

i always love how you are able to perfectly describe a scene using such imagery like i literally feel like i am watching this scene play by play in my head and its because you are just so wonderful at setting the scene and making it translatable to images (i hope that makes sense)

In your dreams, you fight and make up, and he tells you he’s sorry and that it was just a misunderstanding and that he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back

OUCH!!!!!!! i feel like this really portays the hurt vi has for her lost relationship with teyam cause like...if something is haunting you so much that it's appearing in your dreams then you know it's real!!!! imagine being so hurt that your brain literally has to come up with fake scenarios to cope and ease the pain (too relatable actually)

....your ikran still played with each other even mid flight....

NOOO WHY WOULD YOU SAYYY THIS plz its probably so awkward and embarrassing for them when this happens 😭 but also its a sign that they are meant to be...rip oare tho 😭

“Please tell me everyone’s alright. Please.” 

“It will all be alright, son. Everything will be alright.”

DAMN NEYTIRI WHY ARE YOU BEING SO VAGUEEE. Neteyam after Neytiri doesn't answer his question AHAHAHAH but also andra im scared because i don't know if this means something bad has happened or not.......

You would make sure he regretted it - you have always been wild and creative, and without him, you now had heaps of time to be both, at the same time, all towards him. 

ENSUES THE CHAOS!!!!

“Also… do I get a special reward for beating the Iknimaya in record time, the fastest it’s ever been done? I feel like I’m well on the way to stealing Neteyam’s spot as the next Olo’eykte. Wouldn’t that be just a riot?”

LMFOAFREHGIGHIEGBEHG NOOOOOOOOO

Because while he might have been comfortable with the quiet, you wanted yelling and chaos, to reflect the hurt in your heart that hasn’t diminished even after all this time. You wanted to make him pay for banishing you from his mind and heart, from his life that you used to know so intimately, and you were good at payback, and continued to get better over time. 

I LOVE THIS!!!!! Like I think in order for the whole MiM dynamic to work and make the story good...you have to realize just how much of a role Vi has in this hate-filled relationship as well. Like yes, Neteyam started it and was wrong for not communicating. But it's not like Vi is any better because she's also vindictive and petty. It's the both of them, no matter who started what, that are both at fault of continuing the toxic, nasty cycle of revenge and one-upping each other. Much like in life, nothing is black and white and their relationship is an example of this. You can't point fingers even if you wanted to! (but i will point my pinky at Neteyam just a little bit).

Whatever you saw here, and there were some wild things,

VI, YOU LITTLE VOUYOURIST HAAHAHAHA. i cant imagine hating someone so much i would watch their sexacapedes just for ammo 💀

You were just mad that you lost a subject that you knew got under his skin. That’s it. That must be it

SHES DELUSIONAL YOUR HONOR!!! im sure there's no other reason....

“This is for ruining my hiding spot. Enjoy hearing all the girls who don’t recoil at the thought of being in my presence.”

IM FUCKING CRYINGNDKRJGNDJRKGNRKGB HES SO FUCKING MEAN!!!! i'm sorry, but neteyam lowkey ate vi up. he got her ass!!!

“I heard you.”One tear. “That night, the night after the Iknimaya.” Two tears. “I heard you telling grandmother how you want her to be Olo’eykte in my stead. How she deserves it.”

NOOO NOW IM CRYING IN A BAD WAY!!!! LET IT OUT POOKIE!!!!!

That even back then, as nothing more than a child, he knew that she was special. That under other circumstances, she would have, no doubt in his mind, become the next Olo’eykte. That she was born for it, made for it. 

LMFOJFOINKEK ANDRA WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS!!!! IM CRYINGGGGG because i did not expect this but also that was a very good twist. Now i cannot wait to see how neteyam and vi get themselves out of this mess he (they) made. I think this is funny and you got me there. Classic miscommunication trope x100 but throw in some blood, revenge, death.

“Have you seen her? Have you seen syä?”

“What do you mean, Lo'ak?”

“She’s gone, bro. She’s not in grandmother’s tent anymore.”

UGHHGIRGIG YOU ALWAYS LEAVE THE CHAPTERS OFF WITH THE MOST JAW DROPPED ENDING I CANT but also i love it because it keeps us waiting more i am insatiable for your writing

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍𝕀: 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝔾𝕠 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕕

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: Even in your state, memories of your past can't help but flood your subconscious, as Neteyam has a conversation with his father that will change the way he's viewed the last seven years of his life.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death), strong language.

wc: 6.8k words

a/n: this chapter was written to pretty much be a mirror of last chapter, with the same concept of flashbacks vs present time, except this time we get to see Vi's memories from the 7 years they hated each other, which will hopefully provide context for why Neteyam's hatred doesn't only stem from that fateful conversation he overheard, but also from her petty, vindictive actions, that only grew as time went on. i hope you enjoy this chapter, besties (i feel very insecure about it so pls go easy on me, i'm still recovering hahaha) x there's only two chapters left, and i'm already sad about this story coming to an end, but i hope you enjoyed the ride. pls don't forget to leave a comment or a reblog and tell me your thoughts, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: txepvi  - spark, sa'nok - mother, ite - daughter, Olo'eykte - female Olo'eyktan, oare - moon, nawm - great, syä - bitter

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

Neteyam hasn’t blinked since the accident, it feels. He definitely hasn't blinked since he did last, when you opened your eyes and then closed them again, never to be opened since. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why it matters so much that he stays so acutely present and aware, so that his eyes are locked onto your sleeping frame, doesn’t know why the thought of falling asleep and missing you, missing your eyes fluttering open or staying shut forever hurts him so beyond reason or words, so beyond anything he’s ever known. So he hasn’t blinked. Everyone else was long gone, including his grandmother, who hurried to the tree of souls to pray for the safe return of her family and the rest of the brave Na’vi warriors who were still fighting in that wretched battle, the one that seemed never-ending, the one that riddled Neteyam with guilt for not taking part in. 

“There’s nothing we can do for her now, ma ‘itan. She’s in Eywa’s hands now, we just have to wait and see.”

Neteyam hated those words. With a burning passion. Wait and see. So passive, so out of his control, so… hopeless. And yet here he was. Waiting, to see if you’d ever wake up, to see if his family, his mother and father, his friends, his clan members would survive the night and the challenge that might overtake them without him being there to help or stop it, or even witness it. Seeing, seeing you, powerless and lifeless, just a flicker of the bright spark you've always been, it stirred something in him.

You were so beautiful. He hated himself for realising it, but you were. You always have been, and although so much of your beauty came from the soul that was wild and untamed and too big to be contained inside you, still, you were beautiful. And like this, no usual frown or defiant smirk that you reserved for him, he could focus on your face and realise that you haven’t changed that much in all these years, not as much as he has led himself to believe in time. Like this, in this light, with a peaceful look on your face, eyelashes casting shadows over your lapis cheeks, your tahni glowing dimly and flickering softly, your lips slightly parted as you breathed in and out, you reminded him a lot of the Vi he used to love, the Vi before the ugly fights, and the constant war, before the hurt and the pain, before every day was just another opportunity to see who could hurt the other the most. He always thought you won those, all of those. 

“T-tey…”

His musings come to a swift closure as your lips move minutely, air barely getting pushed past them. You were speaking, and he felt himself coming back to life with each sound coming out of your mouth. 

“Teyam…” 

It's getting dark and it's all too quiet And I can't trust anything now And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake

“Teyam…” 

You wake up in a sweat, like you did most days these days since the Iknimaya, whimpering the name of the boy you used to call your best friend, that you no longer could, for reasons you still couldn’t understand, that you feared more and more you never would. In your dreams, you fight and make up, and he tells you he’s sorry and that it was just a misunderstanding and that he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back, because just like you’ve gotten used to over the last few years, you two will always be bound by the hip and there was nothing that could ever come between you. It was a nice sentiment, but one that never manifested itself to you in any waking moment, as, since your Iknimaya, Neteyam has treated you like a stranger, like an ugly thought he fought his hardest to banish from his mind.

With a deep sigh, you put new clothes on and struggled to eat a few pieces of yovo fruit you picked up off the floor on your last hunt. You missed the food Neytiri made, and although they still brought you nourishment fresh every time they made it, it wasn’t the same without the familial, loving atmosphere you’ve come to rely on all these years, so you barely touched it, choosing instead to give it to the other orphans of the war that hadn't been as fortunate as you. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back to them, no matter how many times they asked. Not when you knew that if you did, you’d be met with a dead stare you couldn’t handle looking into, not without crying, and there’s nothing you hated more than crying in front of people. There’s nothing you hated more than showing weakness, and he didn’t deserve to see you weak. Not anymore. 

Days dragged in training without someone to help time pass faster, without someone to brighten up your days, but they did pass. You had to sit next to Neteyam in briefings and in shooting practice, your ikran still played with each other even mid flight until one of you had to will them away from one another so as to avoid an awkward interaction, his presence and spirit was everywhere around you and in you and yet, it’s like you didn’t exist in his life anymore. 

"Come over for dinner, kid. It's been weeks. We miss having you."

You didn't know how many more excuses you could come up with to not do as Jake said, although you did suspect they knew about your and Neteyam's fallout. It was hard not to know, when the air shifted whenever you were in each other's presence, when it became icy and glacial and empty like a vast, cold tundra that you couldn't escape no matter how much you tried.

"Jake..."

"I know, you're sick and you don't want to get Tuk sick, you're too tired for food so you're just gonna crash in your tent, you have discovered a new allergy to an ingredient that Neytiri uses that's never been a problem in the years we've known you, but it suddenly is now... still, just come, okay?"

"Look, I promised your dad I'd take care of you. I can't do that if you're gonna push us away. Whatever it is between you and Neteyam... it will pass. You love each other too much for it not to pass. But hiding, moping, walking 'round looking hopeless and aimless - it isn't you. I need you to be the spark I know and love and fight. You've never gone down without a fight - don't start now. Ok?"

“Ma ‘itan.” 

Neteyam’s eyes snapped in the direction of the tent flap prying open, his mother’s lean, graceful figure emerging and he immediately rose from his spot to hurry to her side and envelop her in a hug they both desperately needed. She was fine. She was here, and walking and standing… alive. She was alive. 

“Sa’nok! Where’s father? What took so long? Is everyone ok? I am -”

“Shh, Neteyam.” His mother was a warrior, always. She was strong and capable and skilled, she was tough and knowledgeable. And yet somehow, beneath it all, she was still soft and kind and caring and empathetic, she knew exactly what her kids always felt, and she knew exactly what to say to make it better. When she her hand found the back of his neck, guiding him into her embrace, his face gently tucked in the crook of her neck, Neteyam found himself sobbing, finally able to let the pent-up emotion surface, all the anger, and sadness and guilt, and relief the last few days have brought washing over him and onto his mother’s shoulders, and she cooed affectionately, not saying a word. She knew there was no need for words, no words could ever made this better. 

“She’s dead, mum. Oare’s dead.”

“I know…” 

“Please tell me everyone’s alright. Please.” 

“It will all be alright, son. Everything will be alright.”

It will be alright… Everything will be alright.

Oh, I'm holding my breath Won't lose you again Something's made your eyes go cold

“Alright, now that you’re back in our tent, where you belong, we thought we’d celebrate both your and Neteyam’s incredible iknimaya! You both did phenomenally, kids, and we are so, so proud of you both. The youngest to ever have done it, too! I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty sure it’s all my training regi-“ 

Jake ceased his monologue as soon as he noticed the dead silence in the tent, and the awkward looks that Neytiri kept shooting him when she discerned both your and Neteyam’s gazes stuck to the floor, a cold look on his face and an uncomfortable one on yours, neither of you in a celebratory mood, neither really ready or willing to relive the Iknimaya and how a beautiful, ethereal day turned into a nightmare in hindsight, plagued forever by the ill-feelings now tugging at both of your hearts.

You stared at Neteyam, as did most of his family, even the young Lo’ak who could not truly understand what was happening, why people were quiet, but could still feel the atmosphere shift, the air thicken, the silence linger and weigh heavily on all the people present in the room. Despite it all, you kept staring, kept hoping that throughout the newfound ice that enveloped the golden aura that he always exuded, that was your home and your light, your biggest question and adventure, your safety net and peace all in one, the memory of that night, so beautiful and far-removed, would bring him back to the boy you loved, the boy you needed, the boy you missed.

He was silent, still, a frown on his face and anger clear as day in his beautiful eyes, that you barely recognised, that you couldn’t believe belonged to Neteyam, your 'teyam. You kept staring and kept staring, until you felt the so-far unflinching sadness and despondency stew and seethe, until it changed and evolved, until you felt the familiar bubbling of anger remove reason or rhyme from your soul, until all you saw in front of your eyes was red, and Neteyam was the one taunting you with the blood-coloured cloth dangled in front of your face. Neteyam wanted this? Wanted to dismiss you and discard you like a toy he outgrew? Fine. You would make sure he regretted it - you have always been wild and creative, and without him, you now had heaps of time to be both, at the same time, all towards him. 

“Thank you, Jake. We couldn’t have done without your help and guidance all these years. Thank you for everything you and Neytiri and Mo’at have done for me, and I’m happy to tell you that, despite my momentary lapse in judgement, I am not going anywhere. I want to be here, I want to be part of your family if you want to have me, and I will let nothing stand in the way of that.”

As you talked, you rose from your spot to hug your adoptive parents, and they happily returned the gesture, pulling you tightly against their chests and pecking the top of your head. Lo’ak and Kiri joined enthusiastically and before long, you were suffocating in love and care and familial affection, Neteyam nowhere to be found. You were sad about it, you couldn’t help it, but for the first time in weeks the sadness was second-place, and so you found a small smirk haunting you at the prospect you were hurting him even a small amount - maybe a small fraction to the hurt he’s caused you, but there nonetheless. 

“Also… do I get a special reward for beating the Iknimaya in record time, the fastest it’s ever been done? I feel like I’m well on the way to stealing Neteyam’s spot as the next Olo’eykte. Wouldn’t that be just a riot?” 

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Something's gone terribly wrong You're all I wanted

"How is she?" Neteyam's eyes were heavier by the second, so tired and spent in light of everything that's transpired, in light of the bustling of crowds outside meeting what remained of the Na'vi forces that fought in a battle that while Neteyam wasn't sure, he suspected took more lives than he'll ever be able to live with. Kiri was quiet as she entered, and Neteyam was grateful for his sister, who stood with him most of the night, who checked in on you while the Tsa'hik was preoccupied with other, more pressing matters.

"The same, I think. She hasn't woken up, I don't think. She hasn't moved."

Kiri walked the length of the tent until she reached you, kneeling by your side and pressing the back of her palm on your forehead. She had something wrapped in a leaf that replaced her hand and Neteyam watched with curious eyes, hoping that by paying special attention to whatever remedy that was, it would work harder and faster, would bring you back screaming and thrashing and cursing him out, because if there's something that he's realised since your accident, it was that anything was better than the deafening silence that he couldn't escape and couldn't imagine living in for a second longer than he had to. Anything was better than this.

"Her fever's not going down. I think whatever it was she scratched herself on while she fell was poisonous. That, combined with the impact of the fall... she's lucky she's alive, Neteyam."

Neteyam couldn't help the shudder that took over his body. He didn't have any hair, the way that humans did, but he imagined if he did, it would all be standing up like blades of grass on the ground, taut and barely-moving in the warm breeze. He shifted slightly so Kiri could perch herself next to him, arms touching as she leaned on him, before placing her head on his shoulder.

"Why are you still here, big brother?"

Neteyam thought about it, until he couldn't anymore, because the thoughts weren't making sense, because they all contradicted each other, because he was tired and heartbroken and distraught, and losing Oare was obviously making him soft and delusional.

"You know you're in love with her, right? Please tell me you realise this, at least now, after all this time, in light of everything that's happened, in light of how you've acted it because of it. It's been so long, Neteyam. So long of us watching you be horrible to each other and hope that one day, you'd both wake up and realise the only reason you're acting like this is because you're too blind to see what's right in front of your eyes."

Neteyam's eyes widened progressively more with each word uttered, until they were so wide it hurt. To hear it out loud, spoken so casually, as if it were a fact, shocked the Sully man. Us? Who else thought this? Who else could possibly be blind enough to perpetuate such disparaging ideas that made Neteyam's skin crawl even at the notion.

"I'm not in love with her, Kiri. I can't be in love with her. After everything she's done... everything I've done... this can't be love. Maybe it was, once. Maybe I loved her once. Maybe I loved her so much I couldn't imagine my life without her." Neteyam sighed, looking at your face, tears pooling in his eyes as early memories of young Vi juxtaposed against later memories of you, so many memories he wanted to forget and banish from his mind, so many cruel, harmful, ugly memories that made up most of his view of you now. "But not anymore."

Kiri rises from her spot with a sigh, patting her brother's head with an exasperated sigh, before she leaves.

"You haven't moved. You haven't slept or eaten, you haven't blinked. Our parents need your help bringing back the injured, the clan needs your help as the future Olo'eyktan, and yet... you haven't moved. I think that says everything. The first step in solving any problem is recognising there is one, brother. The sooner you admit your feelings, the sooner you can work towards fixing your broken relationship."

Stood there and watched you walk away from everything we had But I still mean every word I said to you He will try to take away my pain and he just might make me smile But the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead

Desire burning deep in you was the only thing you felt as Akxo continued to trail kisses on your neck, a string of saliva connecting the purple lovebites that still stung slightly from when he marked you with them just a few minutes ago. With your eyes closed as they were, it was almost easy to imagine you were all alone, just you and this guy you’ve known your whole life but only recently realised had become a man, powerful and strong after just completing his Uniltaron just a few days ago. Despite your imagination, though, you were, in fact, not alone, nor isolated, but in plain view, propped against a tree of the clearing where you all trained in, that still had people working hard to improve on their skills, which is probably what you should be doing. But there was something so innately satisfying about doing this instead, as soon as Jake had to leave and tend to his other Olo’eyktan duties and left you and Neteyam in charge, doing it so he could watch, so he could stew in the bile that was his existence and know there’s nothing he could do to stop it, because he had no leverage over you and no power to hold over your head. Not now, and never again.  

Jake had been wrong. Whatever it was that happened between Neteyam and you didn’t pass, not a few months and definitely not now, years later. If anything, it got a lot, lot worse. Because while in the beginning it was uncomfortable silence and cold and unwieldy dejection, it was now fire and blood, it was teeth and claws, it was anger and resentment. You recognised a lot of it came from you. Most of it came from you. Because Jake might have been wrong about some things, but he was right about others. You’ve never gone down without a fight - and if a fight was what Neteyam wanted all this time, a fight was what he was going to get. Because while he might have been comfortable with the quiet, you wanted yelling and chaos, to reflect the hurt in your heart that hasn’t diminished even after all this time. You wanted to make him pay for banishing you from his mind and heart, from his life that you used to know so intimately, and you were good at payback, and continued to get better over time. 

“Are you trying to derail this whole fucking training session?” His voice, that you wanted to say hurt your ears, but if you were honest with yourself, it never could, not when it was melodic and beautiful, not when it still haunted your dreams, made Akxo straighten up faster than you could tell him to not bother, and you chuckled, a low and humourless sound that you’ve come to associate with dealing with Neteyam. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t ever handle a bunch of 13 year olds, Neteyam. I knew you couldn’t do anything right without me, but still, this is low, even for you.” 

“Akxo, I don’t think I’m making myself clear. She may be immune from the Olo’eyktan’s judgement, but you, my friend, are not. I’m sure there’s better ways to spend your days than wasting your breath on her. Trust me, she’s not worth it.”

“Ah, Neteyam, there’s no need to be bitter.” Your smirk only deepened as you ran your hands over your new flame’s abdomen. “One day, you too will find someone who won’t recoil at the thought of being in your presence, but you might need to work a little harder to not be so hard to stomach all the time for that to happen. I can coach you if you want, I mean… it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to help you, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

I know, I know I just know You're not gone, you can't be gone, no

“These are the last of them.” Neteyam tried not to recoil in agony at the sight of so many dead Na’vi and pa’li, so many ikran, so much loss, more than anyone should ever know, but especially their tribe, that has had to come to terms with grief in a way most other tribes aren’t, in a way that’s unnatural and premature and wrong. It was all so wrong.

Kiri was right, he had to help. He had to help not because it was his duty, but because it was right. He couldn’t keep looking at you, not when every second he did, Kiri’s words rang in his ears and made his eardrums pound so hard it felt like they were about to explode, not when every second he spent thinking of you was making him feel a mix of emotions that he didn’t, couldn’t understand, not when the exhaustion from the last few days made him question himself and ponder if his sister was indeed right all along. So Neteyam left you in that tent and put you under lock and key in the back of his mind, and dealt with the immeasurable loss that once more plagued his clan. 

“Nawm Sa'nok, why?! My son, my son! There is supposed to be a balance! This isn't balance!” The wails of the woman, whom he’s known ever since he was born, that he can still remember playing with him when she brought his son over his family’s tent, hurt beyond comprehension. The usual peaceful, harmonious laughter and chatter intertwined with the sound of leaves rustling in the wind and soft, distant songs of animals and birds were gone, drowned by the cries and screams by the people that were trying to identify the dead, and figure out if life would ever be the same again. 

"Neteyam, ma 'itan. He's gone, he's gone! Oh, Great Mother!"

Neteyam's breath got pushed out of his lungs at the impact of her body crashing into him, that he struggled to keep upright as she was buckling under the weight of her loss. Her son was a good warrior, and a friend. He couldn't come to terms with his death, couldn't understand what was truly going on, his mind almost protecting him from the overwhelming grief by numbing his thoughts, by removing him slightly from the realities clearly displayed to him, that he experienced almost like in a dream.

"It's going to be alright, auntie. We're all going to be alright." His mother's words, a mantra he repeated to himself every second, now the only thing that he could utter, the only thing that didn't feel redundant... even though it was.

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Something's gone terribly wrong Won't finish what you started

Well, here you were, ready to eat your words, as the curiosity got the better of you and you found yourself sneaking to Neteyam’s new hiding spot, that he didn’t know you knew about, that you found yourself coming to a bit too often to call it nonchalance and yet, you just couldn’t help yourself. It was an itch you had to scratch, seeing what he was doing, who he was with, finding new ammunition for your petty revenge, it was all for research purposes, you always told yourself.

Whatever you saw here, and there were some wild things, you always kept quiet and left without ever being spotted, maintaining your cover and whatever dignity you knew would disappear if your friends found out you were stooping so low. But somehow, right now, watching as Neteyam was whispering sweet nothings in a stupid little healer’s ears, telling her how good she’s taking his cock and watching her eyes roll back in her head, your blood was boiling.

You didn’t know why it was boiling, it’s not like you haven’t seen him fuck girls before, or try to, it’s not like this was a completely unusual occurrence, but it was new just how into it the girl seemed to be. How desperate for his touch, how needy to feel him. Your fingers twisted around a branch so hard it snapped and you ducked as their heads snapped into the direction of the noise. You were just mad that you lost a subject that you knew got under his skin. That’s it. That must be it, not at all because your mind was conjuring all the ways that you should be in that girl’s shoes, and how he should be making you feel this way. No man’s ever made you feel this way. No man’s ever made you cry, the way she was crying, gripping at his back and shoulders so hard his skin was broken and bleeding. You hated him, that’s all. That’s why your blood was boiling. 

Well, he wouldn’t get the last word, not if you had anything to do with it. You returned to your spot around an hour later, half happy, half annoyed out of your mind that they were still going at it, and she was still screaming and crying, and he was still whispering praises in her ears, although they did have the decency to change position so at least you couldn’t see much anymore. With a wide smirk on your lips, you waited, until the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed through the endless green forest. 

"Neteyam, are you there?"

Jake sounded angry, and you stifled an evil laugh as you saw them both scramble to untangle themselves from each other and from the floor, the girl's cries no longer of pleasure as she couldn't figure out how to tie her top around her neck anymore.

"Nete-, oh, my fucking God!" English came naturally to Jake, even 20 years later, whenever he was feeling any extreme emotion, and you were happy for the strenuous effort you put into learning it as a child just for this one moment, right here. This was all worth it. "Kole, your mother was looking for you. Can you just- oh, fuck - can you just go and meet her, please?"

"Yes, of course, ma Olo'eyktan."

You were still grinning about the interaction and the ass kicking that followed a couple days later, as you came back to your tent for the night. The smile faded progressively as you neared the entrance, as small whimpers and pleasured groans could be discerned vaguely, coming from behind your tent, a small nook that only you really knew about or frequented, that now was obviously occupied, by a person whose voice you recognised all too well. No way. Sure enough, as you snuck around the tent, a continuation of whatever it was you interupted a couple days ago was well underway, and you bit down a curse, enraged at the way not only did you not, in the end, get the last word, but Neteyam's new hiding spot was just about to ruin whatever remainder of peace and sanity you had left.

When you entered your tent, a small piece of paper with some writing rested on your sleeping mat, yet another human skill Jake insisted on his family to know, that you now regretted.

"This is for ruining my hiding spot. Enjoy hearing all the girls who don't recoil at the thought of being in my presence."

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't go back, I'm haunted

Neteyam watched as his father entered the tent, a heaviness that he rarely lets people be privy to wearing him down and slouching his shoulders. Neteyam couldn’t imagine what his father was going through, couldn’t imagine how someday, he’ll have to bear this burden and do it well, do it honourably and proudly and still keep a head held high and keep it all together so other people can fall apart around him.

Neteyam had mostly love for his dad - deep, unconditional love that will never falter, not even in the face of adversity, or in the face of the deep seeded resentment that Neteyam still had after the years of torturous training, of pressure put on his very young shoulders, of guilt-tripping and being blamed for his brother’s mistakes, of being pushed aside and replaced with you, the perfect daughter who could do no wrong in his father’s eyes. Even despite all of this, Neteyam loved his dad. And yet, watching him come in, sad and worried sick about you, his lips pursed in a straight line, words on his tongue that Neteyam knew were coming and was terrified of… the love faltered just a little. 

“Mo’at said she got poisoned falling off her ikran.” 

“Yes. Oare’s dead.”

“I saw her in the line-up.” His father turned his sights from you to his oldest son, sighing as his eyes set on him, anger flashing in his eyes briefly before composing himself.

“What the hell happened out there, Neteyam? We were counting on you. On both of you.” 

Neteyam had no answer to that. He’s tried so hard to bury the thoughts, because he knew that if he succumbed to them, the guilt would eat him alive and pick its teeth with what remained of his frail bones. He didn’t think of how this was his fault, your fault, how if these stupid fights, that now seemed meaningless and daft, didn’t occupy so much space and time in both your minds, you would have slept, you would have not been tired and distracted, Oare wouldn’t have felt the nerves and fears emanating from you, and you would’ve done what you do best, inspire some people, kill others, be next to Jake, like you always were, like Neteyam was normally next to his mother, and get it done. The two of you were indispensable to the clan, as much was clear now. And although it wasn't fair, how much pressure there was on both your shoulders, it was the way things were. And now both of you will have to live with the consequences of your actions, will have to find a way to look the people in the eye again, knowing that you directly caused their family’s demise and the clan’s sorrow.

“Do you understand how serious this is, Neteyam? We lost good people today. Good people, strong people, dependable people. And the two people who I counted on the most left us all for dead, to fend for ourselves. This isn’t what I taught you. This isn’t who I raised, Neteyam. Even Lo’ak pulled his weight. We’re going to be reeling from these losses for the rest of our lives, and this has set us back months, and I need you to understand the weight of your actions.” 

Another sigh and a frown that aged the Olo’eyktan by a good 10 years was the last sign of disapproval before his attempt to leave Neteyam by himself, but for the first time in his life, Neteyam couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t know whether it was his words, or the continuous battle with you that he’s had to fight for the last 7 years, all years in which he’s felt heartbroken, and resentful, and inadequate, and pushed to the side, and ignored, and worked to the bone for very little appreciation, or the fatigue wearing him down, or the loss of your ikran, or the guilt that’s been gnawing at him long before his father’s contribution, but for the first time in his life, Neteyam’s anger was directed at someone else rather than you. 

“Understand the weight of my actions? Do you hear yourself right now? This whole mess, this whole shitshow that I’ve gone through, that we’ve both gone through, it’s all your fault. All of it.  This is going to weigh on me just as much as it will weigh on you, and the loss of these people, of Eywa’s children, will haunt me for the rest of my life. Of our lives. So don’t sit there and talk to me about responsibility, and about losing people.” He couldn’t help look at your unconscious form, that more and more felt like your own body was trying to protect you from the sadness that would wait for you when you woke. “I lost the person I loved the most, that was my shelter from the storm, a storm you caused. All you do is push me, and push us, and I’m so fucking tired of it.” a sob is all it took for his father to rush to his side, concern and confusion deeply rooted on his face as it met Neteyam’s, when his hands found his face and rose it to his level. 

“What are you talking about, son?” 

Neteyam’s chest was heaving with unshed tears as he looked in his father’s eyes through the fractured, refracted lens of the liquid threatening to spill. 

“I heard you.” One tear. “That night, the night after the Iknimaya.” Two tears. “I heard you telling grandmother how you want her to be Olo’eykte in my stead. How she deserves it.” Six tears. “I heard you… as you told her Vi would never have me. That she said she would never want to be my mate.” Too many tears to count. 

“Oh, Neteyam…” 

“I worked so hard, my whole life. I sacrificed more than anybody I know. And I did it all to please you, to live up to you. I did so you’d be proud of me, so you’d love me, and accept me. I did it all so I’d a good leader, a worthy Olo’eyktan, someone the clan can rely on to protect them.

I spent my whole childhood crying and aching, hating my life, wishing I could be anyone else instead, but I thought it would all be worth it one day because you told me as much, and that I have a title to live up to. And then I met Vi, and she changed everything… and I loved her, dad. And in one night you managed to take everything away from me.

Do you have any idea what that did to me? What the next seven years, in which we hated each other and competed for your love and praise, for your attention and affection, did to me? I’m there for everybody all the time. Every day and night, I am here for you, and for mum. I am here for Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk. I am here for the clan. I am the mighty soldier, the doting brother, the dutiful son, the concerned clan member, the understanding karyu, the unbroken arrow in the quiver of your army.

Do you know there’s not a single day that I don’t hurt, that it doesn’t kill me inside, little by little, without a single soul to talk to, that cares or bothers to listen to my struggles?”

Sometime during that monologue, that Neteyam’s kept in his soul his whole life, he found himself in his father’s embrace, who was quiet and listened, who said nothing and just waited. Neteyam was sobbing in his father’s shoulder now, and he couldn’t find it in him to stop, like a spring that was buried underground with none the wiser until poked in just the right way, with unending streams now able to either fill a dam or flood a village. 

“Neteyam… fuck. I’m so sorry, son. I didn’t know. Any of it, I didn’t know. Neteyam… you never said anything. You never brought up that night, and I wish you did, son… I wish you did because if you had, then you would know that those words that you heard… those words weren’t mine, Neteyam.” 

There are very few moments where Neteyam feels like his soul has somehow exited his body and he’s experiencing a moment almost like from outside himself, like a stranger looking in. That’s how he felt now, as he could see himself removing his head from his father’s embrace, a dazed and almost uncharacteristic expression trying him. 

“What did you say?” 

“That night, if I remember correctly… we were talking about how well you did, both of you, in the Iknimaya. We were laughing at the fact you were both late, how I’d have to pretend to be mad and punish you, when in reality I not only expected it, but almost desired it, that you took that day to enjoy yourselves, to feel free of some of the burden I know I’ve placed on you.

I was reminded, seeing her, of her dad. Her dad who asked me to take care of her before he passed. Of the words he told me. That even back then, as nothing more than a child, he knew that she was special. That under other circumstances, she would have, no doubt in his mind, become the next Olo’eykte. That she was born for it, made for it. Those words always echoed in my ears as I watched her grow, and seen for myself the talent that comes so rarely, it seems almost like a fable. That I only ever saw in you. I considered it, making you both leaders at the same time - unheard of, maybe, but you both deserve it, you’re both made for it, and you used to complete each other, like two pieces of a perfectly fitted puzzle. That’s it, son. I would never want to replace you, Neteyam. I would never even think of it. Not only because you are my son, but because you are the greatest person I've ever met. Because there's no one else, there can be no one else.” 

Neteyam saw his face drop, his entire body shuddering under the weight of the new information, that changed everything, that he could have known all these years and yet didn’t, that shifted Neteyam’s whole world on its axis yet again and he almost wanted to reach out and console himself, the man that looked as young and scared as a pup lost in the woods, like he used to look all the time before he met you, like he swore to himself he’d never look like again after he lost you. His dad didn’t want to replace him. He never wanted to replace him. What was he supposed to do now, with this momentous information that he never thought he’d get to hear?

“I’m so sorry, son, that you’ve had to bear this weight all by yourself. I’m sorry for my contribution in it, and that I failed to see how I made it all so much harder to stomach. Your mother and I love you so, so much, Neteyam, and we want to be there for you, but, son… you don’t talk to us. You keep everything buried inside. We can’t help what we don’t know. We try our best, and we’re so sorry we failed you… that I failed you. And about Vi… Neteyam, you have to speak with her. You’ve carried this in you for far too long. You need to let it out. Let her explain. Let her give you an answer, or closure.” 

“What if she doesn’t wake up?” 

Neteyam didn’t know if his dad was saying this more to his son or to himself, but right now, it didn’t matter. 

“She will, son. She’ll wake up.”

The only other time Neteyam's left you since the accident was after the talk, the overwhelming urge to wash his face at the nearby river finally too great to be ignored. The water helped a little. It grounded him and nourished him, as much as it could, and Neteyam was slightly taken aback at the way his soul felt just slightly lighter, how his father's words, and the conversation he should have had years ago and didn't, changed so much in his mind. His father was right. Kiri was right. It was time to talk. Years and years of torture and pain, and it was finally time to talk. He just hoped you'd actually be there to listen.

Neteyam was startled by a frenzied Lo'ak, rushing to his side, panting as he put a hand on his chest, trying to catch his breath as he spoke.

"Have you seen her? Have you seen syä?"

"What do you mean, Lo'ak?"

"She's gone, bro. She's not in grandmother's tent anymore."

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time Never ever thought I'd see it break Never thought I'd see it

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