#no wonder so many people left threads so quick

[the-dancing-fairy]

Okay so I was trying to find a content community that doesn't really exist here or on Twitter and Instagram kept showing my threads ads that were sort of what I was looking for, so I finally checked it out and oh my God how does it suck so bad??? Like it's actual trash I can't believe this shit was ever hyped. There is no tagging system meaning the search function only works for very specific app backed topics, and thus the search feature only shows you those topics and users. The only way you have to tell the app what you want to see is who you follow and all the data they get from your insta. Nothing is discoverable, which means you're just scrolling through slop. It's like they were trying to make a scrolling algorithm experience like tik tok but for text but that's not how text works so it's just garbage. And even tik tok lets you actually tag and search for real things. How was this deemed acceptable? What was going through these people's brains??

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

BABY GIRL

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson likes to keep you doped up for both of your safety.

Warnings - Non-con, dub-con, drugging, manipulation, degrading, p in v, edging.

Word count - 1.9k+

Notes - Guess who wanted to work on one of her WIP's but decided to watch Red Eye and just had to write another one about my favourite boy.

You laid on the bed, completely naked against his body, he only wore his boxers, your left leg draped over his hips, his hand slowly caressing your back as your face was pressed up against his lean bare chest. 

The audio of the television was muffled, your sight blurred as you slowly breathed in and out. The sheets were hardly covering your flesh, but you were too dazed to pay attention to it. The sensation of his large fingers caressing your tender skin was enough to earn gentle moans from your soft lips. His cold blue eyes watched you like a hawk. Almost skeptical that you would commence a ploy against him, despite your doped state. 

Jackson Rippner was fascinated by you. The moment he saw you, he knew that you would be his. It was unfortunate with the circumstances you met under. Star crossed lovers in his opinion, a bit of a spiced uniqueness to your relationship.  

You were assigned to investigate him for terrorism. Many times you were warned about your high levels of ambition, your eagerness put you in danger. But you were always too stubborn to listen to your superiors. 

“Jackson” you murmured against his chest, almost drooling. He sighed lightly, his hand rubbing circles around your lower back. 

“Yes baby?” He asked softly, there was silence for a brief moment. Jackson waited patiently for you to respond as you raised your heavy head. 

“Are you going to keep me drugged up forever” you slowly questioned, your eyes ached to stay open, your thoughts blurred with sweet nothings. 

There was this blank, emotionless stare from him. As he was questioning himself, he really did wonder what he’d do with you in the long run. The thought of him keeping you mindless for the rest of your days made the blood rush to his cock. Only being mentally capable to muse the thought of him touching, fucking, loving you. 

But then he also wanted to take you out for an expensive dinner, vacate at a ski resort, hold you from behind as you cook him a loving homemade meal. Jackson never considered himself a romantic, but different people create a better you. The idea of having a life as one together made his heart flutter. 

“No baby girl” he answered eventually. 

“When will you stop” you breathed out, a small smile on your lips, a thread of hope. There was a small grin on his lips as his hands gently rubbed your hips. 

“When I know you’ll be a good girl for me” Jackson mocked, pulling you completely over his hips to saddle him. 

“I am a good girl” you countered, your head felt heavy yet your thoughts light. 

“Because you’re drugged up” he laughed softly, his large hand caressing your cheek as your face fell limp on him. 

“Touché” you snorted and he patted your cheek a couple of times. Sluggestly, you lifted your head back up, looking at him with innocent eyes. “Please sir, I promise to be good” you assured, but your small smile was all so devilish. 

That title always got the blood flowing to his cock. You could already feel his size growing underneath you. 

“Really? You cross your heart, hope to die, type of promise?” Jackson razzed, flashing you a toothy grin as his fingers slowly moved closer to your core.

“Yes sir” you promised, batting your eyes towards him. 

“Oh baby girl, how can I be so sure?” He toyed, titling his head to you. 

The scratches on his face were faint. Whenever he sobered you up, you were quick to get in every shot you could at him. However, you were foolish not to carefully plan out your scheme to escape, or as you preferred to do, attempting to kill him. 

“Because I love you cock Jacky” you moaned, his fingers toying with your clit. 

Within a blink, Jackson had flipped you onto your back. Holding your throat down against the mattress and huffing, flaring his teeth at you. “What did I tell you?” He snarled, his thumb rubbing over your chin.  

“You hate being called Jacky” you choked out, but you were still grinning at him. 

“And I thought you wanted to be a good girl” he pouted to you. 

“I do” you almost sang, coughing at the restriction to your throat. 

“Fix your mistake then” Jackson ordered calmly. 

“Because I love your cock, sir” you choked out, emphasizing the correction. With the release of your throat, Jackson sighed. 

“That’s a good whore” Jacksont grinned at you, flexing his hips forward. You pouted to him. “My good whore” he corrected himself, dropping his lips onto your neck.

It was pointless, trying to deny the sensation Jackson always brought over your body. It was too much effort to try to hide the pleasure he always bathed you in. 

This is where you belonged, underneath him, figuratively and literally. 

In small circular motions, his tongue swished over your heated skin, his hands ran slowly up and down your torso, his fingers playfully scratching at your nerves, his stubble tickled you. Your arms gradually enveloped around his back, your fingernails scraping at his skin lightly. 

“I’ll always take care of you baby girl. You know that right?” Jackson asked as he pushed his boxers down enough to free his throbbing length. 

“Yes, Jackson” you breathed out, laying your head back carelessly. 

“Could have gotten you killed, interfering with my business, like a little fucking brat. But I saved you…” Jackson grinned as he lined himself up with your gushing entrance.  

“No Jackson” you shook your head, moaning out softly as he gently pushed himself inside of you. 

“Who are you lying to?” Jackson snorted as he rested himself completely inside of our canal.

“This isn’t living” you countered, your hands rising up to the back of his neck, your legs raising up to your hips in unison.

Jackson couldn’t help but to laugh as his hips snapped back and forward. His lower lip was stuck in between his teeth as he searched for the perfect pace and speed.

“For someone who is constantly high, you sure as hell are conscious” he remarked, his hands holding onto your sides.

“I was always smarter than you” you murmured, biting onto your lower lip. 

Jackson laughed gently as his teeth nipped at your earlobe. 

“Yet look at where you are now. Be my good girl, I want to spoil you rotten. Don’t you want those things?” He toyed, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bud. 

“Yes Jackson” you answered emotionlessly. 

Most of the time it was easier to give him what he wanted, your complete submission. You were always so weak, tired, feeling out of body. The effect his touch had on your body was the biggest punishment. If you weren’t always so high, you’d be heavily humiliated with how badly you craved him. The control he had over your body was frightening, he was your puppeteer, always pulling on your strings despite how desperately you tried to cut yourself free. 

“I want to give you the world” he professed as he found the perfect rhythm to fuck you to. 

“I want to kill you” you whined out, face twitching as the high stimulation took over full steam ahead.

“No you don’t, you could never do such a thing” he mumbled, his hands pinning yours above your head. 

“But I’ve tried” you groaned as he hit your cervix. 

“And that’s okay” he assured you, kissing you in a sloppy manner as if to comfort your distressed thoughts. “You’re learning to be my good girl, yeah?” Jackson asked, teasing your bundle of nerves as he kept your pleasure swimming by the edge. 

“Yes Jackson” you shamefully admitted, your eyes swelled with tears as his thrusts became more painful. 

His mouth fell open into a large smirk at the sight of you crying. It was one of his favorite looks of yours. Over mere seconds, your tears formed into a stream as you sobbed underneath him. The clarity of your predicament washed over you once more. 

“Yeah, you’re so fucking pathetic. Acting like a tough, stuck up bitch. But you’re nothing but a little whore for cock, my cock to be precise” he grunted, feeling your walls clench around his throbbing size.

The sounds of your troubled moans always felt like a melody to him. The mixture between your logical and sensual thoughts left you in shame. Jackson kissed you deeply, your mouth was wide open but you refused to kiss him back. The taste of your tears made him growl like a wolf.

“Fuck, your director would be so disappointed in you. Everyone thinks you’re fucking dead. So get the stupid thoughts of breaking free out of that little mind of yours” he sneered, his free hand holding your chin in place as you tried to turn your head to the side. 

“Stop talking Jackson” you whimpered, desperately trying to focus on the pleasure and not his taunting words. 

“No one is looking for you. I have no tails, nobody cares about me. Only you did, you felt it too from the beginning, just like I did, our connection” he grinned as his balls slapped against your entrance. 

“Shut up Jackson” you whined as you felt your climax build. 

But Jackson loved watching you cry. It was amusing to watch your emotional strength crash, it was pleasing to look at your humiliation. A wonderful reminder of how reliable you are on him. Jackson loved to pull your strings around, to keep you on your hands and knees as he yanked you across the dirt. 

“Bet you wanted me to steal you away from your useless life. Now your biggest stress is wondering how many times you’ll get to squeeze my cock each day” he moaned out, kissing your tears away. 

“Shut the fuck up Jackson!” You screamed out as loud as you could, your weak body thrashed under him but it quickly left you exhausted. 

“Someone’s getting sober” Jackson pointed out with a grin, holding you down effortlessly. “Might just keep you tied up instead, I like your screams” he winked to you. 

“Please stop, please, please” you begged repetitively as he continued to fuck you senselessly. 

“Then tell me what I want to hear” he sighed, his hand combing back his damp hair from the sweat that trailed down his forehead.

“N-no” you shook your head, you could feel him twitch rapidly inside of you.  

You knew exactly what he wanted you to say. It was the thing you hated doing most. He always wanted you to say it when you were so close to finishing. 

“Please” he toyed, playfully begging you as he kept your built orgasm dangling from the edge.  

“Come on baby girl, make me feel good” he grunted as he smacked your rear. 

There was another weak shake of your head so Jackson held his body still inside of you. Pathetically, just like he always described you as, you whined out at the pressure built in your core. All you wanted to do right now was come undone, feel something good in this torture. But Jackson stared at you sternly, menacingly. His hands pressed down on your hips as you tried to rock yourself around him. 

“I-I love you” you admitted, your cheeks beet red. 

Instead of fucking you senselessly like you assumed he would. Jackson pulled himself out and jerked himself over you. Quickly, his white ropes of semen sprayed over your sweaty stomach. You panted, looking at the mess he made on you as your distressed expression made him chuckle silently. 

“I love you too” he replied blankly. 

As you caught your weak breath, Jackson laid his body on top of yours, his fingers touched your sensitive core, gently teasing you. You moaned out, ready to do anything to free yourself of your painful climax. 

“But so, drugged or tied?” Jackson cocked an eyebrow to you.

[bendycxmet]

Pierced—Vash the Stampede

Summary: How did Vash get that hoop in??

Word Count: ~1.2k

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Content: fluff, a lil angsty, Vash deserves his sense of self ok

a/n: @aboveweirdest gave me this wonderful idea while we were analyzing this man to death! tyty was thinking about this when i got another helix piercing done recently so i whipped this up before bed

In recent days, you’ve seen Vash eyeing you. At least, more than what is normal. It was unsettling everytime you felt his gaze on you whenever you tried passing the time by creating something out of scraps you found into jewelry, specifically earrings. 

For instance, he was doing it now, as your hands worked the small pliers expertly to transform a piece of gold wire into a hoop. You either usually pierce your own ears with your creations, or sell them in town for some extra cash you both could use for bullets or food. Vash wishes he could be as good as you on the artsy side, but you always remind him that he is good with his hands. No one can beat him in marksmanship.

“Like what you see there, gunman?” you tease, side eyeing him for a split second. Caught in the act, Vash blushes a lovely red that reaches the tip of his ears. You love getting a rise out of him.

“Do you wanna learn? Is that it? Because you’ve been a little too curious these past couple of days.”

“Mm.. ‘s not that. I just… How many piercings do you have?” 

The question comes out of nowhere for you. You think it’s obvious, since mostly all of them are on your ears. Doing mental math, you count what you have on your ears.

“Uh, around 11? I’m thinking of doing more, but we’ve been too busy lately.”

He simply nods, humming to himself as he visibly thinks through your answer. 

“Why do you pierce your ears?” You quirk your eyebrow at him. “Don’t mean that in an offensive way!” He quickly puts his hands up, offering a sign of peace. You laugh at his gestures. “I just been noticing lately that your usual customers are people with loads of piercings, and I never gave it much thought before to get one of my own, but I think…they look so cool on others. They seem so happy with them too, expressing themselves without even saying a word.”

Your hands still at his words, something dropping in your stomach and twisting at his solemn expression. Vash never revealed much about his past, and you never probed him further. Anytime anything connected to his past came up, you could clearly tell whatever happened had left its scars on him, physically and mentally. You respected his decision to close up those details, and reminded him that whenever, if ever, he was ready to share that load with you, you would be there.

You look back down at the gold hoop in your hands, an idea coming to mind. You quickly add the finishing touches, putting a little more effort into it as it was for someone special now. 

“Hey, what do you think of this?” You hold up the hoop to Vash’s eyes, catching the glimmer in his eyes at your recent creation, like that of a thief spotting expensive items through a window. Greed and envy swirling together.

“It’s beautiful! You always amaze me with how you turn a piece of trash into such a pretty object. That one’s gonna sell fast Mayfly!” You warm at his praise and nickname for you. His confidence and support for your skills potentially outweighed yours for how he handled his gun.

Yet, you can’t stand the fake smile he plasters on his face, masking the jealousy he feels for the future owner of the golden hoop.

“Think I’m gonna sell it for free. It’s for someone close to me.” Vash simply cocks his head to the side. You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. “How about letting me pierce your ear for you?”

The change in his demeanor is quick. He straightens his back, eyes shining brightly, nodding eagerly at you. “I’m in your hands!”

Grabbing a small threading needle from your kit, you order him to sit close to you on motel bed. Cleaning your hands and the needle, you search his face, looking for any signs of regret. 

“You sure about this? Do you know where you want it?”

He’s pensive for a moment, eyes looking past you. He hums, pointing at his left lobe. How perfect, you think, same side as his cute little mole. 

You fidget, rethinking piercing his ear. You’ve only ever pierced yourself, so now that you have someone else in front of you, you feel like a total amateur. 

“Hey. Get out of your head there. I know what you’re thinking.” Vash’s voice breaks through your brain fog. He wraps his hand around your raised arm, poised and ready to pierce him. He gently tightens his hold on your waist. “I trust you.” You feel your heart twinge at the soft vulnerability in his eyes.

“Ok, this will be a slight pinch. I know you’re used to pain-” you interject, noting his slightly raised eyebrow, silently telling you been there done that. “-but just follow my rules. Ok, breathe in for me.” You raise the needle to his ear. “And breathe out.” As you feel his breath ghost your arm, you push the needle as quickly as you can through his ear, quickly adding the hoop to his ear. 

You turn around to wash your hands. “And there you go! Your first piercing ever! Crazy, considering that you’re like 150- hey don’t touch-” you catch him as he’s going to finger his new piercing, staring straight at the mirror on the vanity opposite the bed. The warning dies in your throat at the sight of him nearly in tears.

“I…I love it,” he says in a warbled voice.

“Oh Vash, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? I really tried to be careful. Always with you.” You sit beside him, leaning onto his shoulder, rubbing his back in comfort. He sniffs. 

“It’s not you. It’s just…this is the first time I feel like I’ve done something for myself. I feel like my own person. With just a hoop.” Wet tears trail down his cheeks. You press your fingers to his cheeks, wiping his tears. You know how he’s been burdened with his past, no doubt still feeling the shadow of his brother and the destruction that’s come from his actions. Perhaps this earring meant more than you could ever imagine, perhaps it finally binded him to the present, and to his own future that he can create. 

“You’ve always been Vash to me. Never your brother. Just you. Vash the Stampede. The most amazing gunman to ever walk into my life.” He turns to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his face into your neck.

“Thank you. Now, I feel like everyone else. Maybe they can see me as one of them. Not this humanoid disaster.” You nuzzle into him, hands returning to their rubbing against his back.

“You look nice by the way. It suits you really well. The gold complements your blue blue eyes,” you tease, hoping to get a chuckle out of him. 

He pecks your cheek, another thank you from him. He presses his face tighter to you, jolting suddenly. “Ow!”

“Yeahh, it’s gonna be a bit tender for a bit.” 

masterlist

divider by saradika

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXIX

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI, Part XXVII, Part XXVIII

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“Satoru, this is [name]… Of course you know it’s me. Uh, anyway, I know you may not want to see me now, but I’m locked out of my apartment. You still have that spare key, right?... Could you come over?” your voice asked hesitantly. “Or send it with someone if you don’t wanna see me, but…” you sighed, ”I’d like to see you, Satoru. Really. I… I want to see you, okay?... Anyway, give me a call when you get a chance, please.” Silence. “I love you.”

How many times had he listened to that voicemail? Gojo was not sure, especially not now that time seemed to have slowed down for him.

He had come to the hospital as fast as he could, but he had not been able to see you yet. He had learned from Ieiri, who had made a brief stop by his side, that you were still in the operating room when he arrived. He wondered how bad your injuries were, what had happened in your apartment, who had hurt you, but above all, would you recover?

Yes, they will. They have to, Satoru told himself.

But it did not ease his concerns that Ieiri had not come back to give him an update in a while, or so it appeared to him, and those doctors and nurses parading in front of him from one side to another had not told him anything either.

What was taking them so long? Why had they brought you to that hospital? Shoko had explained to him you had been taken to the nearest hospital, and they had contacted her since she figured as your GP.

“I did some practices here in the past. The personnel are capable. They are in good hands,” Ieiri said after briefing Gojo on your current situation.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you treated them?” he asked without looking at her. Shoko could see just enough of that flash of blue behind Gojo's shades to know his eyes, as his mind, could not focus on anything now.

Crumpled shirt, wet hair...

She gave him a quick look before focusing on their surroundings. The hospital staff in white and blue threads, the other people waiting like them, and the persistent smell of antiseptic.

“I saw them,” she was talking about your injuries, “It wasn’t a curse, but I’ll do whatever I can as soon as I get a moment alone with them.”

It hung heavy over Ieiri that she had not been allowed into the operating room immediately after she arrived. However, she knew the medical staff were already doing all they could, all that was humanly possible, and what may be left for her to do was not meant for them to see.

She thought she saw Gojo nod in acknowledgement but when she turned to looked at him, he seemed to be entering a trance of his own.

“I’ll go in even if they kick me out and come to update you later, okay?” Shoko told the white-haired man sitting next to her before leaving him in the waiting room.

But it was already later, and Shoko had not come back, so Satoru turned to the only source of comfort he had right now and hit replay.

“Satoru, this is [name]…”

***

Shoko stared at your form.

Even after all bleeding had been stopped and a successful surgery to remove the bullet, and even after Shoko herself had treated you, she still did not like the numbers on your monitor or the fact that you showed no sign of coming back to consciousness.

She told herself it was probably a matter of time. You were to be kept under observation and if remaining stable, you would be moved to a room.

Now she was sitting close to your bed, doing just that, observing. She had been right, it was not a curse what did the most harm, but she knew cursed energy had definitely been used, and Gojo would pick on it too when he saw you.

“You asked me what the worst part of being a doctor was,” her voice was soft, without hesitation, although she did not usually talk to unconscious patients. “This is it, doing everything you can but not knowing if it has been enough.”

***

“Don’t you dare support this nonsense,” it was your mother’s voice.

Satoru had not meant to eavesdrop. He was there to visit, as he had kept doing over the last couple of years that he had been spending a lot of time in Tokyo, where he was to attend high school next year at Jujutsu High, with you. That if your mother allowed it.

“Aren’t there good schools here? They can attend any. It doesn’t have to be Tokyo. It doesn’t have to be that school.”

That school.

Of course.

Satoru had always known he would have to go to Tokyo. Unlike you, he had no choice. But when in the spring of your last year in junior high, you had told your mother you were planning to go learn jujutsu with him, she was not pleased. Anyway, it was surprising that six months later, she was still against it.

“Can you let them do what they want for once?” your father asked in that mild tone that made it difficult to say for certain if he was upset.

“Is it what they want or what you want?” she questioned with a hint of an accusation.

Your mother was not a sorcerer, never had been. Your father was, in fact, one of the few members of his own family who could see curses. Despite it, the woman he had married was familiar with the many caveats of the sorcerers' job and was not willing to let her child start a career that could likely lead them to their death, which she proceeded to state.

“Is that so? You either want you child dead or want them to continue following the Gojo heir even if it kills them,” she insisted.

“Enough,” your father barked. “It’s enough.”

She exited the room only to find the Gojo heir in the hall, who looked at her as if caught red-handed, but before he could give her any excuse, she spoke.

“[name] is not home yet but should be back soon,” and she left.

Satoru did not mind her sometimes straightforward treatment. She had looked as if she was about to cry.

When Satoru looked into the room your mother had fled, he found your father, looking at his untouched tea over the table, lost in thought. The sight of the boy pulled him back to his senses.

“Satoru,” he pronounced his name softly.

It was refreshing, Gojo thought. Most people at his family’s state had started to address him as they once addressed his father, treat him as the head of the clan he was bound to become despite him being just a teen. But not your father, to him, the powerful heir of the Gojo clan was just little Satoru, your friend.

“Did you..?” the man did not need to finish the question to know the boy had heard him arguing with his wife. “I see. I’m sorry you heard that.”

Satoru thought he should say something to him, but all he could do was ask the most natural question.

“Will [name] still come to Tokyo?”

He looked at him as if he had expected the question.

“If that is what they want.” Your father nodded. “I know the air is different there, and so are the curses. [name] has never left this town, so of course I worry.” He looked outside, half-expecting to see his wife’s disapproving stare from the yard, but she was not there. “But I know [name] will be fine because they will be with you.”

***

I failed you, sir.

I failed them too.

Satoru was not sure of how long he had dozed off. Maybe only a few minutes. That was fine, that was all the sleep he needed. I was enough to go through twenty-four more hours of waiting. Waiting for you to wake up.

He looked around the room you had been transferred to, spacious but small at the same time. Or maybe that was just his perception, the feeling that came with knowing he could not leave this room until you opened your eyes.

After your condition had shown little improvement, Ieiri had told him to go home, but there was no way he could leave. Never again.

“When was the last time we were this quiet in the same room?” he asked you although he knew there would be no answer.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again, feeling the need to talk to you even if you would not talk back.

“I’m sorry, [name].”

Had you been conscious, you would have known he was apologizing sincerely as his voice was almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

It came with a staggering sense of powerlessness, the realization that he had thought those same words after Suguru deflected years ago.

He put his hand over yours, the gesture was a silent plea for you to not leave him now too, and even if your hand was the coldest it had ever been and even if Satoru had never been religious, he allowed himself to pray to whatever gods there were that you could stay.

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Note: I'll proofread at some point... Anyway, it's our beloved's birthday eve (at least for me). How are you all?

Thanks for reading!

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke

[outsideratheart]

Adios Amor (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: I'm back baby! This fic was inspired by a line in a movie I watched recently. I hope you guys like it.

UEFA's end of season gala is one of the most prestigious nights in football. No awards were given and ego's were left at the door. The large ballroom is filled with circular tables each hosting different teams from across the world, both men's and women's alike.

It a night to celebrate the sport and to catch with with people who for most of the year are considered the enemy. It is how you found yourself staring across the room at the woman who crossed you path many years ago. It was a night you will remember for many different reasons.

"Why is Y/N Y/L/N staring at you?" Aitana asks Alexia who not so subtly looks your way.

When you lock eyes you raise your class of very expensive champagne. It was a innocent gesture but one that makes Alexia's stomach churn. She shakes her head and hastily turns away. The lack of acknowledgement gains the attention of her fellow Barcelona team mates. The two of you had played against each other a few times at both club and country level but now they think of it, they have never seen you interact with each other than the pre and post game hand shakes.

Then Jenni comes sauntering over and their curiosity only grows.

"Are you going to talk to her or carry on ignoring her like you have been for the past 5 years?" Jenni says fully unaware of the thread she is unravelling.

"I feel like there is a story here" Mapi pushes for more all whilst wondering how in all the years she knew you did she not know you knew each other.

"No story, just history, that's all" Alexia is quick to shut down the conversation given that it took her years to stop thinking about you, or least she had tried to do so.

Alexia's watches in worry as all of her team mates eyes widen and their attention turns to something or rather someone behind her.

“Well, the history is about to become the present because she is coming this way" Jenni quickly downs her drinks knowing that she will need another before you get to them.

You can see 3 Barcelona players looking at you as you make your way towards them and one player is looking anywhere but. Just as you approach them Alexia turns to leave but stops in her tracks when she hears your voice.

"Walking away from me, i'm getting Deja Vu" Although you are joking, it becomes clear that Alexia knows the true meaning of your words.

"Y/N" Alexia says with a low tone.

"Alexia" you say in return.

The energy between you shifts. No words are exchanged but you eyes never leave Alexia's. It is only when she hears Jenni clearing her throat does Alexia break her gaze but yours remains.

"This champagne is amazing" she says in attempt to ease the tension.

"Lefevre Brut" You turn to Jenni when talking to her but by the look at her face she is clearly confused, whether is be by your french accent or something else "The champagne? that is what it's called"

Ale--" you don't get the chance to talk more to your fellow Balon d'or winner as one of Presidents of UEFA calls your name.

"I guess we will see you at the Euros" Aitana tells you only she doesn't quite get the reaction or reply that she expected.

You face drops at the mention of the summer tournament. Alexia expects a clever retort about how Spain won't win if it comes to facing France. The two of you might not have talked for a while but the passion you have when you represent your country is unmatched.

“I'll apologise now for when France beat you, if you get that far" You reply arrogantly hoping that it will cover your delay in response and look on your face which you know you didn't hide very well.

It seems Alexia is the only one who doesn't buy your act. The way you phrased your sentence, how you said France instead of we or even I, it didn't settle well with her.

This time it is her turn to watch you walk away and she couldn't help but enjoy it, she is only human after all.

"Something is wrong with her" Alexia says to no one in particular.

"Why do you care? It's not like you're friends" Mapi is clearly surprised by her friends concern.

"Because Y/N was Alexia's first" Jenni says nonchalantly before taking another sip of her drink.

"She was what?" The blonde defender says in shock.

"That's enough for you. I don't need you telling everyone in this room about my sex life" Alexia takes the champagne from her best friend's glass, downing it herself before putting it on one of the waiter's trays.

"Sex life? So it wasn't just the one time" Aitana joins in.

"We ended up sleeping together more than once over the span of a few years but then I found out she was sleeping with other people.” When she sees her friends about to ask more questions she hold her hand up “It's in the past"

That was the last time your name was mentioned until they watched France play in the first pre Euros friendly and your absence both on the pitch and bench is the hot topic within the Spanish national team. It was during the half time commentary that the world learned the reason why.

"I have spoken with Y/N this morning. She told me that she sustained an injury during the Champions League final against Barcelona which she down played in order to help her team win and she wanted to end the season on a high. She had hoped that rest alone would heal it but unfortunately surgery is required. This is why she is not in the squad today and why she won't be travelling with the team to England for the Euros"

Despite the bad blood Alexia and you shared she couldn't help but feel incredibly sorry for you in this moment. So much so that she wants to reach out to see if you're ok but when she pulls her phone she realises she no longer has your number and messaging you on social media seems too impersonal.

Little did Alexia know she would be joining you on the sidelines after tearing her ACL.

***********************

Alexia was limited in what she could do when she wasn't at rehab so she spent more of her spare time mindlessly scrolling through social media. If asked, she would deny it, but she had been keeping on eye on your accounts and even had a notification on for when you posted. She wanted to know you were ok but the only thing you posted was a photo of you in your hospital bed with the caption 'The cost of victory is high'.

She saw that her sister Alba has posted on her a story which wasn't strange considering the amount fo time the younger Putellas spent on social media. What was interesting is who was in the photo with her. There you stand, your arm wrapped around her sister’s shoulder with the beach as your backdrop.

It wasn't an old photo because it showed Alba's tattoo, one she had only got a few days ago. It caused Alexia to be both confused and intrigued. What were you doing in Barcelona and why out of all people were you with her sister.

Alexia only has one thing on her mind when Alba arrives at her house the next day to take her to therapy. Although she is not sure how to bring you up with it leading to more questions. The fidgeting and constant glances over to the driver’s side of the car doesn't go unnoticed by Alba.

"Ale" she turns her attention to her sister when they get to a red light "What is it?"

The two sisters are close and very open with each other. If one of them has something to say then they will say it making the current situation a little bit concerning.

"What were you doing with Y/N Y/L/N?” Alexia asks. 

“Why do you do that? Say her name like you don’t know her?” When it became clear Alexia won’t answer her question, Alba continues “I bumped into her a few summers ago. She said came to surprise the woman she loved”

This got Alexia’s attention. Whilst Alba knew the two of you were friends, she had no idea just how close the two of your were. You always said your visits to Barcelona were for work, not an international booty call. 

“In the end she never told her. Y/N didn’t want to waste her trip so she starting training here, now she does her solo off season training in Barcelona every year before going back to France”

When the car pulls up to the rehab centre Alexia is out of the car before Alba can say anything else. The midfielder’s mind was running a million miles a second. Part of her couldn’t help but think what if she is the person you came to see. 

When Alexia hears a knock on the door of her physio room your face the last one she expected to see.

"Sorry wrong room" you don't push an interaction with her and chose to walk out before a conversation could be started. 

Alexia wishes in that moment that she could chase after you, she had so many questions for you.

Like she had for the past couple of weeks, Alexia completes her therapy to the best of her ability even though she quickly becomes frustrated at her lack of mobility.

Just as they finish the session, the physio's phone goes off, rightly or wrongly Alexia glances down at the screen. 

Y/N L/Y/N is calling. 

“You can answer it” Alexia says when she notices the therapist declined your call. 

“It’s ok. You’re my patient at the minute” 

Did that mean you were her patient at a different time. 

“Do you know why she is in the city? I thought she would be in France working on her ankle” the Catalonian asks. 

“She did her aggressive rehab here. In France there are too many reminders of what she is missing out on. She, like you, has been struggling with missing out on the euros”

Alexia’s body tenses at the mention of the Euros. The fact that she is missing out of a tournament that she had been preparing for years for, has been hard for her to deal with. 

“I don’t think you should be telling me this?” Alexia knows that the therapist is bound by patient doctor confidentiality. What is discussed between you and her during your sessions should not be talked about. Had the therapist been telling you about her, about how she is dealing with things.

“Your thoughts are very loud Alexia” the therapist jokes “To answer your question, no I don’t tell her about you. The reason why you know is because Y/N told me to tell you. She knew that once you knew she was here you would ask questions”

A small chuckles escapes Alexia’s lips. You always did know her well, it should come as no surprise that you still have the ability to predict her behaviour all these years later.

“When is her next session?” Alexia asks hoping to talk to you.

“Considering we have over run I would say” The therapist looks at her watch but then there is a knock on the door “Now. Shall I tell her to come in?” 

Alexia only nods her head.

She watches you walk in the room. Your ankle is in a boot and you are still limping, the grimace on your face is clear to see.

“I just have to grab a few things, i’ll be back in 10 minutes” 

The therapist leaves the two of you alone in the room. Something that hasn’t happened since she walked out on you.

“How’s the knee?”

“How’s the ankle?”

“You didn’t answer my question”

“Neither did you”

The silence that follows is comfortable but the tension is thick. The words that has been unsaid seem to weigh you both down yet neither of you are willing to be the one that breaks first. Alexia sees you turning the ring on your pinky finger and watches are you brows furrow, you are thinking and whatever you are thinking about is making you nervous.

“Why are you nervous?” Alexia asks.

“The last time we were in a room together you walked out” the memory of that night replays in your head and the feelings that followed soon come rushing to the surface.

The frustration Alexia feels is borderline overwhelming. She recognises the hurt on your face but cannot bring herself to care, or at least she tries not to. Ever since the night of the gala Alexia has a feeling in her gut that this moment was coming.

“And who’s fault was that? You slept with one of my best friends” 

Your head snaps up in the direction of your former friend. The venom in her tone hurts. 

“I didn’t know she was your friend” When you see Alexia open her mouth to cut you off, you hold you hand up to stop her. If Alexia wanted to do this then you would say everything you have wanted to say for years.

“When we talked about exclusivity, I recall you been the one to say we should keep it casual” you remember the moment clear as day. You hated that she didn’t want anything more but you were happy to have no strings if meant be able to call her yours, even if only for a night.

“Because that’s what I thought you wanted” Alexia tries justifies her decision.

“Well Alexia, me taking you at your word doesn’t make me the bad guy, it does however make you a liar” 

It worries Alexia how emotionless you are in this moment. There is no sadness or vulnerability in your tone, it is as if you are numb.

When you realise that this conversation is not going to have a happy ending you decide to change the subject..

“Like you said at the gala, that is the past” You laugh a little at the shock on Alexia’s face, clearly she didn’t know you heard her.

“How is your ankle?” Alexia asks sincerely.

“On the mend, I guess. The doctor said that if I got treatment when the injury first happened then I wouldn’t have needed surgery”

There is something that had been bothering Alexia since she heard you got injured in the champions league final. A feeling of guilt had settled in her gut and she knew it wouldn’t go away until she knew the truth.

“It was when I tackled you wasn’t it? You didn’t even have the ball but I was so frustrated and you were unstoppable. I knew I had to do something and I guess I jus—“

“Wanted to punish my for my sins on and off the pitch”

“Y/N I’m—“

“I don’t want your apology Alexia” You says truthfully.

Alexia doesn’t get the chance to respond.

“You ready for our walk?” The therapist comes back into her room, unaware of the moment she is interrupting.

Alexia watches as you take your boot off. The scar and bruising is still there. You wince as you put on one of your trainers and its’ like Alexia feels your pain. 

“Before I go. Remember I have been where you are, be patient. I’ll see you on the pitch soon Alexia” 

Those are the last words spoken before you leave the physio’s room.

You would like to say you haven’t thought about Alexia since that day in the physio room but she is all you can seem to think about. The past has been playing on a loop in your head for days. You had debated messaging her as a friend just to see how she is doing but bailed. In the end a 3rd party ended up making the decision for you. 

The text message from Alba was unexpected given that was 10pm and you was about to go to bed. 

It read I need your help, something’s happening with Ale and I don’t know what to do. 

You knew what was going on in the Catalonian’s head because you have been having the same thoughts. 

Alba picks you up the next day and uses her key to let you into Alexia’s apartment. 

“Alba I said I needed a day by myself. Why can’t you do as I say?” Alexia snapped when she heard the door open and footsteps approaching her. 

It was hard hearing that alexia wanted to be alone but it wasn’t surprising. Alba hadn’t told you much about why she needed your help but when you looked around the apartment you see why. The blinds are closed, the lights are turned off, the only evidence that someone is home is the small sound coming from the TV. You follow it until you reach the living area. 

There she lays with her leg elevated and the look of defeat on her face. You do see a brief look of happiness when she sees you, yet you remain in the doorway waiting for her to invite you in. There had been so many things taken out of alexia’s control and having people come into her home uninvited shouldn’t be one of them. 

“I heard misery loves company so here I am. Can I come in?” You ask her.

She makes you wait a little longer than you would have liked but when her face softens she pats the seat beside her. 

“I’m not miserable” Alexia pouts. The expression stays on her face when Nala jumps over to your side of the sofa, something that shouldn’t happen given that you have never met the dog before.

“We disagree, don’t we nala?” The furball barks in agreement making her owner laugh but only a second before her stoic face returns.

“Let me guess, this has to do to with Barcelona being in France for the AMOS cup? Missing out on international duty is one thing but missing club football, that is tough” You are speaking from experience but the pain and frustration Alexia feels blinds her from seeing that.

“You wouldn’t understand” Alexia absentmindedly begins playing with the velcro on her knee brace.

“Really? Lyon is in Portland for the WICC cup and I can’t be with the team so trust me when I say I understand how you feel Alexia” 

“How are you so…” Alexia tries and fails to come up with a word to describe your energy.

“Not pissed off at the world” Alexia nods at your choice of words “because I know that me being mad and pushing everyone away won’t change anything” It has taken a while for you to come to this realisation but now you had, things seemed to be getting better.

“Really Y/N? You have pushed everyone away because you are here in Barcelona when you live in Lyon” still Alexia chooses to argue with you but you let her, you know she needs to let her frustrations out.

“You know that isn’t true. I haven’t pushed anyone away I have simply chosen to see different people. I saw Lola the other week and then yesterday I went to lunch your new team and my former team Lucy Bronze. As for me being in Barcelona, I come here every year since” you stop yourself when you realise what you are about to confess.

“Since what?” Alexia asks even though she knows the answer, well half the answer. Every since Alba told her that you came to Barcelona years ago to confess your true feelings, Alexia has wanted to know more.

“Since I came here to tell you I loved you” you shrug your shoulders when you see Alexia’s eyes widen in shock.

Alexia stumbles over her words and she cannot manage to say a single sentence.

“What? Didn’t expect me to be honest? I know Alba told you” you knew this would come up since the her younger sister told you Alexia has asked about you. 

“But you never told me. Why come all the way here and leave without doing what you came to do” Alexia wants to know why you never told her, why you let her hate you for all these years when you loved her.

“I wanted to Alexia but then I saw you at the beach with your friends. You were so happy and knowing how much I hurt you, I didn’t want to risk you feeling that way again. It was clear that you had moved and I knew in that moment that I missed my chance”

You felt like a weight hand been lifted off you shoulders and placed on top of your heart. Now that Alexia knew how you felt it opened you up to being vulnerable and you didn’t like it. Alexia’s face gave nothing away and it only added to your anxiousness.

“You’re wrong Y/N I didn’t move on and I think part of me still hasn’t. It why I still has these feelings for you, some that are obvious like pain and frustration but then I have moments like when I found you were injured and I knew that I still care about you, more than I would like to admit”

Now it was your turn to be at loss for words. Alexia has always been your what if but now things could be different.

Instead of waiting for you to reply, Alexia asks a question which you wanted to know the answer to as well.

“What does this mean for us”

“It means we have a chance Alexia”

You look down at the time of your phone. When you stand to your feet it is obvious that you are going to leave.

“What are you doing? I want you to stay” Alexia begs.

“Unfortunately today is my last day in Barcelona, I need to go home” when you see the look of disappointment on her face you know that once again time is not on your side.

“But there’s some much more I need to say”

“Alba has my number. I’m only a call away”

As you walk away you do with a heavy heart. You didn’t think you would be leaving Barcelona having said what you came to say all those years ago but you are happy you have. 

“Goodbye Y/N” Alexia reluctantly says.

“Adios Amor” A nickname you hadn’t used in years comes out so naturally and by the look on Alexia’s face you can tell she likes hearing you say it just as much as you like calling her it.

[farity]

Sorrow, part 4

Aemond extended a hand, and for a few moments as she stood still, he feared that Elyse would run off instead.

He saw her turn to the maid and ask for help removing his cloak, and then she walked to him and once again placed her hand on his.

"Begin," he said to the Septon, and rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand.

Her eyes never left his, not when they both said the words, not when the Septon proclaimed them husband and wife, and only closed when he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Her hands tightened on his then, and loosened again when he pulled back.

She thanked the Septon and when he and the maid had left, she turned to him.

"Why?"

Aemond stopped, and turned to face her. "Did you wish to go back to your family?"

"No," she said immediately. "They would have just sold me to the next old man with two coins to rub together."

"I know I should have probably asked," he said as he took her hand and began walking toward the keep. "But I feared if we did not act soon, you might have been sent away from here."

She stopped, tugging on his hand. "Back to . . . to . . . ?"

"No," he said quickly, but then realized he didn't really know. "I don't know."

Her little nails dug into his palm and she stared up at him. "You must promise me something. As my husband."

He waited, watching anger, despair, fear, crossing her features.

"If I am to be sent back to that hell, you must kill me before it happens."

Aemond said nothing, the need to pull her to him and assure her that no such thing would happen tamped down by the fact that he knew well that between his mother and his grandfather, they could make it happen.

"Promise me," she whispered.

"Elyse, I can't take your life."

She gripped his other hand. "I will be dead anyway," she smiled sadly. "But you can give me a quick death instead of the years of sorrow that await me there."

He could almost taste her desperation, and this time, he did pull her to him, feeling her stiffen when his arms went around her, her hands fisted between them.

"I did not marry you just to lose you," he said softly. "I will slay anyone who attempts to harm you, I will take you away." He was threading his fingers through her hair, soothing her like a child, and his words, which so often were thought clever, were not enough for him in that moment.

Slowly he felt her soften against him, and then she looked up at him. "Will you ever tell me why?"

He smiled bitterly. "Once, my impulses led to another's death. This time, I thought they might help someone."

When she said nothing, those haunted eyes still on his, he added, "I don't know why. I saw you weeping in your chapel, thanking the gods and I knew terrible things had happened. Then I saw your horror when that man said he was marrying you. My gods-damned impulse took over."

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Not for one moment. I will not hurt you. I will not allow anyone to cause you harm. I will do my best to keep you safe."

He watched her as she studied him, her scrutiny one of someone who has been told many lies before.

"I believe you."

* * * * *

Otto Hightower was waiting for his grandson and the girl he'd so rashly married. He'd heard about the septon leaving his residence very early and with what Alicent had told him, he knew in an instant what was about to happen.

The soldier he'd sent to stop the hastily arranged wedding had arrived at the garden as the couple kissed, and had immediately turned back, still unseen.

He saw the two young people turning toward the keep and clasped his hands behind his back. Aemond, of all people. No wonder Alicent was so disappointed and angry. He was the one she was closest to and the one who understood loyalty the most. Or so Otto had thought.

"Grandfather."

Otto stared at Aemond.

"May I present my wife, Princess Elyse."

His eyes stayed on Aemond's for a few seconds, but he looked at Elyse and bowed to her. "Princess."

As Aemond began to lead Elyse into the keep, Otto stepped forward. "I would speak to you, grandson."

"You may speak right now," Aemond said smoothly, "although you may first wish to deal with your errand boy for not completing his mission."

Elyse looked up at her new husband, noticing the smirk on his face, and then at Ser Otto, whose jaw tightened. The familiar fear coursed through her, but her hand was linked through Aemond's arm and she felt that most rare of feelings, safety, around him.

Otto tilted his head and turned to go to his study, and Aemond looked down at Elyse. "Come, wife, it shall be the first of many conversations we shall have today."

He'd called her wife when Ser Otto was clearly displeased - who wasn't? - and she nodded, but she did not know what he'd meant by the errand boy, although anyone who didn't do what Ser Otto wanted them to should probably be fleeing for their lives right now.

* * * * *

"Princess Elyse," Otto began, "surely you can see how this is a most incorrect and unbecoming way of doing things. Prince Aemond will marry for-"

"I have married, grandfather, and you are correct in calling my wife Princess Elyse, for she is one now and shall be until the end of her days. Her family is of an old and noble lineage, which cannot be incorrect or unbecoming, and the ceremony was performed by a Septon of the keep with a witness." Aemond smiled. "Or two."

Otto leaned back in his chair, and looked back at Elyse. "Are you with child?"

Elyse paled, and Otto leaned forward. "No, Ser Otto."

"You shall not hide it for long if you are, unless you mean to get rid of it."

Aemond stood. "Now this is incorrect and unbecoming, grandfather."

"Why?" Otto smiled, and Elyse shivered at the reptilian expression in his face. "If she is pregnant and wishes to pass off the babe as yours, it is something we will-"

"I am not pregnant," Elyse said, her breathing unsteady as she looked up at Aemond. "I swear it."

"Do not trouble yourself with these questions, wife, for now we take our leave of this most incorrect and unbecoming conversation." He nodded at his grandfather and put his hand out to Elyse.

He led her out of Otto's study before the anger he felt could unleash. From everything he'd observed, it would only succeed in terrifying his new wife.

She was silent as they walked down the corridors but once in his rooms, she let go of his hand and turned to face him. "I am not with child, Aemond."

"You do not need to say it again, Elyse, I believe you."

She looked at him for a moment, the sound of her name on his lips calming her nerves just a little. "But there are things you should know."

* * * * *

Aemond awoke to the sounds of screaming, just as his servant rushed into his room. "Prince Aemond, it is the Princess."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he ran to the room adjoining his, and saw her, so small amidst the bed coverings, shaking as her maid tried to sooth her.

"Elyse," he said gently, but she did not hear him.

He did not wish to frighten her even more, so he walked to the end of her bed, reining in his impulse to take her in his arms, and measured each step until he was near her. "Elyse."

She looked up to him then, and he sat on the edge of the bed as her eyes focused on him.

"You are safe here," he added.

"I came to her as soon as I heard her, Your Highness," the maid said, rubbing Elyse's arms.

"Thank you," he said, his eye not leaving the terrified face of his wife. "Do you wish me to leave?"

She shook her head.

He nodded.

"May I bring you some tea, Princess?"

She turned to her maid as if seeing the young girl for the first time. "Yes," she whispered, and the girl left.

Aemond extended his hand to her and was rewarded with a small smile and her cold fingers on his palm. He moved up the bed and wrapped an arm around her. "I'm sorry you had a nightmare."

She turned to him and placed a hand on his chest before she realized he was only wearing sleep pants. She pulled her hand away but curled herself against him, letting his warmth envelop her.

"I hadn't had one in a few days."

"Maybe talking about it brought it all back," he said, speaking from experience. How many times had he woken up covered in cold sweat after seeing Vhagar kill both Arrax and Lucerys in his dreams?

She let out a breath. "I am sorry," she began. "This must not be how you envisioned your wedding night."

Her words put images in his head and he ruthlessly pushed them away. "I meant what I said. We need not consummate the marriage until you are ready. It changes nothing. You are my wife, by choice and by law."

He was so warm, and felt so good as he held her, and Elyse, who had never learned what desire was through the years of marriage and grief, felt something new inside of her.

Aemond felt her muscles slowly loosen up and allowed himself to kiss the top of her head. He had yet to fully examine what she had told him earlier, and had gone to sleep with the ember of anger burning in his chest.

He'd managed to avoid his mother and grandsire the rest of the day, always keeping Elyse with him. Helaena had given her some of her embroidery materials and he'd found his wife making almost invisible marks on the delicate fabric, stepping back to survey her work before going back to adding more marks.

When the maid returned with the tea, she found Aemond sitting on the bed, asleep with his back against the headboard, and Elyse sleeping in his arms.

They made a handsome pair, the maid thought, although the princess needed to eat more. Her shoulders were so thin and she was so pale. But she had golden hair and pretty eyes, and she seemed so sweet. And the prince, well didn't he look very fine bare chested, holding his wife. The noble ladies might turn their heads from his eye patch but the maids knew better. For once, he didn't go around pinching their bottoms like the young king. They all fought to go around the corridors surrounding the training grounds just to catch a glimpse of his silver hair flying as he worked every day. They had heard from a Baratheon servant that he had been meant to marry one of the daughters, but he looked very much at ease now, didn't he?

Whatever bothered the princess so much, the maid thought, had to be truly awful.

The maid placed the tea on the table near the bed and left to go to sleep. They were having guests tomorrow and she had much to do.

[minalblood]

The Winchesters 1x13 Review

Let’s just dive into this, it’s been a looong time coming:

-I completely forgot that John had had no idea what to do until he got the letter. I wonder if this is something that may have happened in OG SPN? Also, adding to this, we know that when Henry leaves in SPN, the Winchesters are still in Illinois, but in TW they are already moved. I want to know if there is a thread that matches the OG universe and if so when exactly it diverges. Like, did SPN!John have this feeling of complete loss of purpose when he returned from war? We have some hints to tell us yes, but ultimately we don’t know. Did SPN!John know Murphy? Did Murphy die/was his death impactful to John in SPN as it is in TW? I wish we had a bit more details about the similarities and differences in the universes.

-The fact that TW!John called Dean “sir” hurt me as much as it hurt Dean. You can see the pain. I also want to know how Dean left so quickly. Like suspension of disbelief is fine, but considering we have pictures of him in 1970s Lawrence in his car going place to place makes me think he’s at least somewhat constrained to physicality. So did he just dash? Also how did he get upstairs so quick also? So maybe he isn’t as constrained as I was picturing?

-Speaking of, how did Dean get that letter? I may be misremembering things here cuz it’s been a while since ep 1, but I always assumed that Dean would’ve gotten it from the MOL clubhouse prior to him deciding to interfere right? Is did we ever get this answer? If so though, I want to know how long Dean’s been in TW universe because it’s much longer than I remembered it being and how long did he ponder whether to interact with one of his folks? 

-I fully believe Dean lied about the “one last hunt” to Bobby. There are reasons for this and I will mention it a bit later, but for now I want to mention that he can keep this promise and claim a loophole if he so chooses. He hadn’t left Heaven to hunt, he went searching for something personal and stumbled upon the Akrida. He’s still Dean Winchester, there was no way he’d be able to walk away and not at least try to help, nevermind the Akrida showing up because he and Sam defeated Chuck and he’d likely feel even more responsibility.

-I know this ep is coming full circle on all of aur characters growth, but I need to shout out Samuel here for asking Mary and actually backing away once she clarifies her own uncertainty despite his clear shock. The Samuel we met in the beginning of this wouldn’t have stopped until this devolved into a huge fight because Mary isn’t doing what he wants from her. Same to Millie, she just subtly prompted John about Mary leaving hunting and how he’s dealing without badgering or pushing. I also deeply appreciate both Samuel and Millie here inquiring about their kids’ emotional states, great progress. 

-Joan mention! I cannot wait to get into this once she shows up fully.

-And speaking of growth of characters, I also love that for all we see everyone having evolved and developed, they are still to some degree who we met: case in point Mary’s knee jerk reaction if to withhold information. She ends up not really doing this, even trying to have a proper conversation with John later, but her reflex is still to withhold. It’s just that now she’s aware enough that she’ll change her approach.

-Adore the foreshadowing for the Akrida’s defeat “anything not of this Earth”. Especially with the sheer focus on Dean from both in-universe from the Scoobies and out of universe from the fans. 

-Speaking of things I love though, can we just give a full round of applause for Ada not lying and keeping the secret about the spell from everyone? How many times has stuff exactly like this led to worse outcomes exactly because people didn’t communicate? And what’s more, it’s exactly because she mentions this that Lata gets a head start into a solution (second round of applause for this, especially since it’s so rare that we get actual contingencies set up before the really risky move is executed rather than scrambling for a patch work after the fact) and they don't end up using the spell until it’s really unavoidable which leads to the third round of applause for Carlos who prevents Ada from preemptively using the spell (hello direct answer to Jack turning himself into a bomb for Chuck and the plan derailing completely cuz they jumped the shark with it).

-Something to note though: souls function differently in TW apparently. In SPN the closest similar spell we have to what Ada has is Lily Sunder’s angelic magic which also uses fragments of soul as fuel, however unlike SPN where Lily burns piece by piece but ultimately still has the remaining soul after the spells, in TW they clarify that Ada’s soul will slowly dissipate if they take a fragment of it. It's so interesting to see the difference. I wonder why? Maybe souls evolved differently here, maybe the spell, by virtue of being one of Rowena’s (be it her own making a la soul bomb to kill Amara and save the sun or Book of the Damned bomb using your own life as sacrifice to close hell) makes it act differently? I really want to know. 

-The bar being filled with Akrida possessed people is such a call back to the demon filled bars of SPN days and I love it.

-I do think that Joan knowing Dean couldn't interfere too much/make waves is very interesting. Especially since the Akrida are a Chuck designed failsafe.

-Also how did they get him into the portal? I need to know. 

-Joan saying “his body will be torn to shreds for centuries” is doing multiple things for me. One, it’s recalling hell - especially having it be connected to Dean in pain for an extended period. Two, it’s giving us a hint of how Dean will survive while maintaining the stakes for the Scoobies (and to some degree for us since at this point on a 1st run through since we didn’t know how the portal would interact with Dean - dead or not he had a body that could be interacted with).

-“I’m not Akrida. I was human once” is sooo much fun to consider. Joan is very much this amalgamation of so many things, her former humanity, her ties to the Akrida and all that monster essence, and she’s essentially done it to herself, created Frankenstein’s monster outta Frankenstein. No wonder it went off the rails. She and Cuthbert Sinclair are two sides of a coin for me to be honest in this regard.

-It’s also here at the bar that Joan’s main strategy for dealing with the Scoobies gets shown, trying to appeal to the versions of them she has info on. Something that to be honest would’ve worked at the beginning of the season, even maybe halfway through the season might’ve worked. She tries with Samuel first, bringing up the hunting legacy of her family, then with Mary and John. Then when she gets to the clubhouse she goes for Lata, and in the final fight she once more hits John, Samuel and now Carlos. And she clearly pushes very specific trauma triggers for each, focusing most on John’s anger and Mary’s disillusionment with hunting because I think those are the ones she most relates to. Meanwhile with Lata and Carlos she almost pushes opposite by trying to point out how their changes are detrimental. By this I mean, with Mary and John she’s trying to reignite those feelings in them because she can tell they are still there to some degree (as mentioned they’ve both grown but still have a while to go) meanwhile for Lata and Carlos their growth was more foundational since they actively tried to heal versus Mary and John’s pushback against the healing. I hope this makes sense to y’all.

-Having Joan’s motivation be keeping hunters alive initially is so much fun to dig into. Everything she says to them about why she’s doing what she’s doing is something we’ve heard people talk about before, especially in SPN, especially Dean tbh. We’ve seen Dean struggle with the endless loss, with the weight of the responsibility to keep humanity safe, the toll saving the world took on him. Having Joan act as this dark mirror was a great choice. But also Dean would have never reached this point. Even at his darkest moments, he always drew a clear line about what he’s willing to sacrifice - yes, he also never had to deal with the loss of literally everyone everyone, there was always at least one thread, one person, but still. 

-Lata fighting against the Akrida possessing her? Absolute queen behavior! Love her so much. Also Joan reducing her choice to be a pacifist as a black or white thing is very in line with what I was trying to say above. I can exemplify better here though so bare with me. Lata’s pacifism is both a very personal choice that means a lot to her and gives her personal meaning, is a part of her values. But it also used to be a literal blockage for her before ep 11 where any type of violence coming from her side reminded her of her father especially and of that trauma. More specifically, Lata also felt she had to be a pacifist otherwise she would be exactly like her abusive father. Ep 11 had her confronting her trauma and coming to terms with it, something she was already trying bit by bit to do, and re-evaluate what pacifism means to her. So Joan trying to reduce Lata attacking her to say that hunting has tainted Lata, is to completely ignore the complexity of Lata’s choice to be a pacifist and to ignore the very complicated relationship that Lata has to fighting. In this instance, Lata choosing to fight is a testament of how rooted in her sense of self she has become. She can fight back and not feel the guilt she used to, not feel like it’s a failure on her side to do so because anger and fighting do have a purpose and are important sometimes - like when your life is being threatened. 

-Having Joan’s lover be the final thing that got her down the path of destruction is absolutely a choice on the writer’s side that I adore - definitely tying into the SPN!John of it all. I also find it interesting from another perspective. When I 1st watched the bar scene, Joan’s like of “that’s the John I know” had settled into my brain very differently to the point that I was almost certain they were going to reveal that Joan is actually another version of Mary a la Apocalypse world Mary who lost both her family and John, but much earlier. Basically, Joan is continuously this amalgamation of multiple things at once, the worst parts of each.

-Humanity wasting their second chance speech is giving Jigsaw to me tbh. I vibe.

-I love them figuring out that they can use the journal to bring Dean back, but imagine the version of this story where unsteady they use the journal to defeat Joan. It would’ve been hilarious.

-Love that the one Akrida that has had it out for John especially is the one possessing Lata btw. It makes the vitriol feel more personal and makes me think of both the Leviathan’s who hated playing Sam and Dean and of the disdain Lucifer has for humanity, but especially the Winchester brothers. I love this being another creature who is so pissed to deal with Winchester adjacent people that it’s begun just personally having a vendetta against all of Earth. 

-“How many Campbells and Winchesters have to die” goes so unbelievably hard. Especially in the finale of the show now rewatching, but even on 1st watch I remember being hit right in the heart by that line. It’s the fact that I actually completely understand that reasoning and even agree with it that makes the Akrida and Joan especially so fascinating to me. She does have a point is the thing, especially considering the very personal interest God has had in the Campbells and Winchesters bloodlines. And following this up by talking about how history and legacy are playing a heavy role in this continuous suffering is also fantastic, because it is true, but it’s not the whole picture either. It’s not the only legacy and history the Campbells and Winchesters have to tell.

-And once again Chuck had done what he does best: created another world ending being that he then locked away to ensure the world doesn’t get destroyed ahead of time. He did this with Amara, Lucifer, the Leviathans, the Shedim, angels and demons getting thrown in the Empty counts too, the monsters being thrown in Purgatory also falls under this pattern of behavior. He really is a one trick pony on every level.

-Adore that Ada didn’t even hesitate to use the spell to save Lata. And even more love for the fact that everyone is sharing info so they can make a plan together, no one going off on their own like a moron, god the satisfaction of seeing this is unmatched.

-Cutting off Mary before she can say anything to John as they’re saying goodbye essentially, after he more or less poured his heart out? A choice on the writers part that I wholeheartedly agree with. Love the implications here.

-I also adore that it’s a swordfight. This show has gone out of its way to ensure minimal gun use and I think it was a great choice. Also love that all three of them, Samuel, John and Carlos get attacked at once by at least 2 Akrida. 

-BABY!!! (this was the only reaction needed here - just BABY!!!)

-I wonder if Josie existed in this universe? Like did Joan just get rid of the MOL before Henry and Josie went to the church and meet Abaddon? Does Abaddon just not exist in this timeline? Did Henry even try to do field work in this universe? I have questions!

-Dean saving Mary will never not make me emotional ok? That’s what he’s wanted since he was 4! 

-I also love that we have the most roundabout way of referencing Sam here. I will go into more detail why I especially love it, but just know I do.

-I do hate though that Dean still looks surprised that he got into Heaven and the reminder that he’s dead. I hate remembering that 15x20 is a thing that happened still. 

-Living for Dean instantly jail-breaking Heaven though and then basically breaking his parole to interfere when he found the Akrida. Of course he couldn’t help himself, it’s Dean, he has never been able to ignore when something is wrong and he can help.

-Jack saying it’s time for Dean to return to his own story… I don’t disagree but I do object to the “there’ll be peace” mainly cuz Dean clearly isn’t done. And now I need t go into this a second. Because Jack is treating this situation with the Akrida as though this was Dean’s goal here. But the Akrida are the side quest, the thing that derailed the actual thing Dean’s been looking for when he took off from Heaven. Dean isn’t done. This may have helped him make peace with a chapter of his story, but that’s just it. It’s a chapter, the one about this parents’ tragedy. But he’s still looking. He didn’t leave heaven cuz he was looking specifically for John and Mary, he left the second he say Baby with no clear objective but the knowledge that he had to go. He found some meaning in his restlessness by looking for a version of his folks where they’re happy, but that’s just part of it. And you can see it by how he responds to Bobby in the beginning, how he talks to Jack here at the end. He isn’t done. 

-“They’re family” is one of my favorite moments in this finale tbh. Because not only does he say this explicitly, he does so after introducing them by name. Which brings us back to what I was saying about Sam. In choosing to not name Sam to the gang, but explicitly naming Jack and Bobby who are Dean’s chosen family, it narratively sends a message that goes in direct opposition to what 15x20 was pushing. And to be clear, we do get Sam mentioned by name too, because Sam isn’t important to Dean just because he’s blood related to him, Sam is just as much part of Dean’s chosen family, but Sam is mentioned to Jack and Bobby, who, like us the audience, already know this information about Sam’s importance as opposed to Jack and Bobby who (and I am aware we the audience is aware of their importance too) are representative of all the other chosen family that gets pushed aside in 15x20 in favor of the blood relations. Sam here is important because of what he as a person means too the 3 of them, not because he’s Dean’s blood relative, but it does bare repeating that Jack and Bobby, not blood relatives, occupy the same level of importance in Dean’s life. This went so far in patching up some of the bullshit 15x20 peddled imo. I love it.

-I do gotta say I still think Jack was changed by the god power and I still don’t like it. Chuck won theory or not, Jack is visibly acting different from what we’ve become used to in SPN and that is a sadness I cannot begin to explain to me. He also deserved to live his life free of all this responsibility thrust upon him since he was conceived.

-Oh, I am so emotional about Dean imparting his journal to John and the Colt to Mary. I was mentioning earlier about legacy and history and this is exactly the part that contributes to that discussion. John, the MOL legacy gets the journal - the theoretical help more or less, especially with Dean’s journal having focused, as opposed to SPN!John’s very practical entries, on the emotional and mental side of hunting and how to handle all that hunting will throw at you. And Mary, the Hunter legacy gets the gun - the practical help, but even here, having the Colt be one of the only guns in the series makes it stand out without you needing to know the full significance of it being the Colt, and moreso, Dean is giving it as a protective measure as we the audience know it’s the only thing that can kill the yellow eyes demons. More than that, he is also actively healing with these both of the trauma’s SPN!John and SPN!Mary impart to him - with John the emotional absence and with Mary the physical absence while still helping these versions of them John with his still existing anger issues and Mary, as she’s navigating this no-hunting life, having the means to ensure she survives it. And on top of this, he is reclaiming the legacy/history of SPN!John’s journal and SPN!Mary’s death this way. I love everything about this choice.

-Now the ending scene. 1. The fact that we full on get to see that Ada will eventually be fine, adore it! 2. The reference to the famous beach episode wth, unmatched joy about it. 3. Mary and John actually compromising and finding a way to meet in the middle with everything? Fantastic. 4. Millie letting John go easily? Such a departure from the acidic words she’d thrown his way at the beginning of the show. 5. Samuel actually letting Mary know he’s going and saying he’ll keep in contact? Same vibes as Millie, love to see it. 6. Mary’s iconic baby blue car? I have missed it so much!

-And now, Ramble On closes us off and what a fantastic choice that they got it. It truly is the perfect song for this story. Because it makes it clear that this isn’t an ending. It’s a moving on to something else once you’ve finished whatever/wherever you were at. Dean’s story here has come to a close but he’s moving on to something else, he’s still behind Baby’s wheel searching. John and Mary’s story has ended for now, especially this chapter that had interference after interference from on high (Chuck’s especially via the Akrida and then Dean’s trying to clean up Chuck’s mess) and they can move on both from Lawrence geographically and from this predetermination that said interference was pushing via calling back to SPN as much as it was, now they can live their own lives, like Mary said, she saw every possible version of her and chooses to make her own path instead. (I do wonder what Dean saw, he was there much longer than her). So yea, the story has ended and the story goes on. Perfect choice for song closer.

-EDIT: I forgot to add about the title... oops! Basically, it's kinda tied to what I was saying about the song choice as well aka it's not an ending so it's not a goodbye per se. Something you have echoed actually by Mary and John twice in the episode. And it works as a pushback toward 15x20.

And so I am done too and figuring out what I’m moving on to! I’m sure there are still things that I can come up with to say about this show, and probably will continue to for a long while yet, but the reviews are done now and I’ve said most everything I wanted most to say so til I get something else I feel like mentioning, see y’all in the reblogs! Hope this was fun for you and I deeply appreciate all those who have been patient and stuck around to hear my opinion on this. Bye bye!

@shallowseeker, @noybusiness,@inspnity17, @pleaseraisemefromperdition, @doctorprofessorsong

[skylarstark4826]

Spider sat in one corner of the Sully marui weaving a basket, his smaller hands making quick work of tying sturdy knots out of material new to him.

In the other sat Neytiri, skinning fish after fish and placing them on hooks, quick and efficient with her blade.

The hut stayed utterly silent aside from sounds of their labour, yet it barely felt awkward. After all, both inhabitants were focusing for a reason. The chores were a distraction.

A distraction from the horrid disaster they’ve been through. 

Strangely enough, since loosing the oldest Sully and arranging a funeral, both of them avoided talking about him; even in passing. It caused too much pain, like rubbing salt into a bleeding gash, but while Neytiri knew such agony well, to Spider it was all new. He escaped any thoughts about Neteyam because he was afraid he’d break down again, like he did the night of the funeral, when the emotional whiplash fully caught up to him and he broke, emitting barely-human noises as Kiri wept, holding him. He’d never been this vulnerable, never cried to the point where there were no tears left, and hoped to Eywa that he wouldn’t have to repeat the process, although witnessing Ms.Sully break down twice this week didn’t give him much hope. But could he blame her?

No. Not in a million years. The utter shock of witnessing a loved one’s eyes loose light is a horror Spider wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

His work slowed. 

Is this how Neytiri felt when she lost her father? Her sister? Half of her clan? His pain from loosing ‘Teyam felt gut-wrenching, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine how badly it burned Ms.Sully’s soul to have so much taken from her. Truth be told, he felt horrible for resenting her back in the forest. He only ever saw his own part of the story.

As he wandered deeper into his thoughts, so did the matriarch; except she had a bad habit of quickening her pace whenever she could not find focus on the present. She couldn’t let her children or husband know, but she was holding on by a thread. No amount of crying and screaming and throwing objects into the sand could quench her agony, despite Norm saying that it’d be healthy for her to let it out. No matter how much she let it out, there was too much still left, and it grew like a mold as soon as she’d stop screaming. Maybe she was well past the point of "letting it out" years ago, though she certainly tried many times.

She looked at Spider. 

Yes, she tried hard to let it out indeed…and this boy became her accidental target. He came under the line of fire because through his veins coursed the blood of a demon, and she recalled herself justifying that behaviour more than once by telling her beloved that said boy walked on a slippery slope, bound to repeat the mistakes of his ancestors. 

And yet, there he sat. After enduring months of captivity and torture, as he’d told them when Tonowari organised a council to hear our whatever information he had gathered, he was still loyal. 

He witnessed villages burn, had to beg the demon, *cry* for him to spare the people, and it eluded Neytiri how or why the monster listened. She didn’t want to put the puzzle together just yet, trying to erase the incident on the ship out of her memory. Eywa knows, Kiri hasn’t looked at her the same since.

“Ack!” She hissed when the knife inevitably drove into her finger, causing a bleeding. She then sees Spider react on pure instinct, fetching a bandage-like cloth and sitting next to the woman as he treated her injury. He was good at it, that much she was aware of, as she saw him treat a deep wound once. A human ally pilot bled once, but Socorro never lost his cool and swiftly bandaged it. 

She wondered how often he had to treat himself, to get this precise with his movements.  She also wondered why she let him touch her, but the last seven days have been a complete mess, and neither of the two had strength to be passive-aggressively avoidant of each other. There were bigger sorrows to mope over.

***

The crowd of Metkayina, as well as Tau’nui, roared in frustration at the council. They wanted action, and they wanted it now. The death of many of their loved ones, including the tulkun, has angered them beyond belief, but the leaders had to quieten the crowd so Spider could share what he had gathered about their enemy. He knew he was looked at side-ways, because contrary to how he felt on the inside, blue stripes didn’t make him taller, no matter how much paint he applied to his skin. 

Neytiri grew frustrated as well. The crowd’s fury had been understandable, but their restlessness only stalled them. She looked at the teenager to see if he’d be brave enough to do something about it, since not even Tonowari and Ronal could calm their storm. And he did.

Grabbing the tube filled with a yellow liquid from the mat in the centre, Spider stood in front of the big fire and raised it to the sky. The crowd went quiet, their attention now consumed by the strange device.

“Listen to me, reef people!” He exclaimed, mustering all the confidence he had. “This! This is why they’re killing your spirit siblings!” His voice shook when he remembered the death of a mother and her child.

“What is it!?” He heard the crowd demanding.

“It’s a liquid stored in the minds of every tulkun! They hunt for it because-” He couldn’t believe he was about to say it. “Because it grants sky people immortality!”

Reef Na’vi gasped in utter shock, and even Jake couldn’t keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

“What…what are you saying, child?” Ronal dared to ask, her eyes filled with horror.

“This…this fluid stops humans from ageing! It makes them live forever!” He locked eyes with her.

“But…that is impossible, all energy—”

“They found a way to break that rule. And they break it by killing the tulkun and pulling this out of their heads.” Socorro pointed to where his brain is, his own eyes watering.

The Metkayina and Tau’nui were silent now, processing this new information.

Neytiri felt even more furious than before, but by no means surprised. Sky people cruelty was new to the sea Na’vi, but not her. Not her clan.

Not new to Spider either, she thought, looking at him, and how bravely he held up in the face of a resentful mob.

Yes.

He was indeed quite brave.

***

Water, as beautifully as it sparkled, had never been Neytiri’s strong suit. She could swim just fine, could even fish to an extent, but riding an ilu was still quite difficult for her to grasp, even more when it came to the skimwing. Now that the war was upon them, she had no excuse to stall on learning, so Ronal took time out of her day to offer help. She guided the animal towards her, and ‘Tiri couldn’t help but feel warmth in her chest at its friendly clicks. About ten metres away, Spider sat on the woven pier and helped Jake carve wooden stakes for the nets. Socorro kept stealing glances, wondering how Ms.Sully would do.

Tsaheylu went smoothly but Neytiri shivered, as if cold water was dumped on her. She heard a familiar chuckle and whipped her head, seeing Spider quickly turn his down and pretending to work. She huffed, and listened to Tsahik’s instructions, slowly got on the creature’s back. However, the animal must’ve felt her lack of confidence, as it chirped and bolted away, dropping Neytiri into the water.

Spider tried, honest to the great mother, to hold it in, but the image of such a serious, graceful figure emerging from beneath the waves with the widest eyes was just too amusing. He let out a laugh, before biting his lip and hunching again. Jake looked at him like he just signed his death warrant, and Socorro couldn’t agree more. 

He didn’t see the smirk Neytiri failed to suppress, or her slowly wagging tail as she approached the ilu again, and whispered something into their ear.

He did however, definitely feel the harsh tug on his loincloth, which sent him tumbling into the water with a high-pitched screech. Once under the surface, he locked eyes with the clicking ilu and playfully shoved its face, swimming back up when the most incredible sound graces his ears. 

Neytiri laughed. It was short-lived, but she laughed, and laughed in his presence. Seeing a smile on her worn out face felt like a breath of fresh air and Socorro couldn’t help but chuckle in return, grinning. 

Oh how good it felt, to have the weight of the world pulled off their shoulders, if just for a single moment.

***

Neytiri was at it again; overworking herself because she steadily lost focus on the current task while the eclipse had long since passed. She was expected home hours ago, and the family, deeply scared for their mother’s wellbeing, went looking for her around the village.

Jake and Spider split to search on the shoreline, going opposite directions and soon enough, Socorro witnessed a familiar silhouette resting against the rocks. It was none other than ‘Tiri, with a half-weaved net in her arms. 

The blonde couldn’t help but appreciate that distinct, Omatikaya handiwork; he learned weaving from her after all, but his wonder turned to confusion when he caught the warrior twitching in her sleep. Looking up, Spider met her shut eyes and a forming scowl. It’d be better to wake Neytiri before she falls deeper into whatever nightmare she was seeing.

But as soon as Socorro’s hand touched hers, she pounced on him akin to a vengeful thanator. In a way, she was.

“Hey hey HEY!!” Spider yelled, as ‘Tiri felt for the blade strapped to her vest and unsheathed it. “Neytiri STOP!! IT’S ME!!”

In a fit of rage, Neytiri hissed at him, and on reflex, the blonde hissed right back. That seemed to do the trick, as it snapped the warrior out of her delusion, and she breathed heavily, looking him in the eyes.

After what felt like an eternally long moment, she leapt away, realising what she’d done. “What do you want!?”

“…It’s-it’s eclipse. Everyone has been looking for you…” Spider breathed.

Neytiri turned, eyeing the darkening sky, before giving the blonde a slow nod and collecting the net she’d weaved.

“Let us go.” She looked back at him, waiting for Spider to follow.

***

This night proceeded quietly, like so many others these past weeks, but Tshaka could not sleep. It has been roughly a month, but her scar bled still, as fresh as ever. Keeping her son out of her thoughts as to not breakdown completely has been an exhausting task. 

She needed some air, and slowly, as to not disturb her family, slipped out of the warm hut, shivering at the chill. It was then she caught a distant sound of sobbing.

In said distance, on a pier, sat a familiar tiny figure, with knees up to his chin, and shaking shoulders. ‘Tiri couldn’t help her gasp as she approached, akin to a predator trying not to spook its prey. Was Spider really crying? He hadn’t done that since the funeral. She guessed that he’d been putting on a front, but never considered how heavy the burden of grief would weight on someone who experienced it for the first time. 

Thinking of her child, she let out a tear.

It never got easier, but one’s very first loss always stings the most.

“Spider.” 

She spoke barely above a whisper, but Socorro still lurched, as if burned, before quickly lifting his mask and wiping away the salt on his cheeks. 

“W-what is it?” He croaked, his voice shaking.

It’s only then Neytiri realised that she didn’t actually think it through. Her deep-rooted maternal instinct pulled her towards a broken child, but knowing their history, she had no idea how to provide comfort to him specifically.

So instead, she sat next to him, looking at the glowing ocean.

“I cannot sleep.”

The Na’vi avoided making eye contact with Socorro as to not make him feel further embarrassed, but still noticed him nodding, while hiding most of his face.

“…Neither can I.”

‘Tiri nodded in acknowledgement, and they stayed silent for a little more. Listening to the waves swirl gently against pier’s columns, as well as watching peculiar creatures swim below.

“…How…how do-how do you do it?” The boy then asked, sheepishly turning to the woman next to him.

“Do what?”

“Keep going. After everything…” New tears gathered in his eyes. “I feel like a part of me has been ripped away. Is this how it felt when…?”

“…Yes. It feels like that all of the time.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, another tear escaping down his face. “Then how?”

Neytiri looked back at the ocean, trying to gather her thoughts and give him a hopeful response, but in truth, she had none. Every tragedy was a storm that destroyed her, and then, after a while, she just wouldn’t be crumbling as much.

“…I do not know. I guess…” She sighed. “All you can do is wait.”

“It’s torture.”

“Yes.”

“I want to see him again.”

Neytiri’s heart skipped a beat. “I know.”

“It feels like the world has ended, and everyone’s just pretending like nothing happened.”

That sentence brought new tears to Neytiri’s eyes. Socorro oddly hit the arrow on that one. It really did feel like a silent apocalypse at times; like everything after Neteyam’s death was an afterlife, a ghost remaining of the world that had once existed. 

But she felt that way before. The world had died before, one too many times, and yet here she still was, pushing on. It is thanks to her family that she once more found happiness and saw how her life could yet be full of love and purpose.

“…The sun, Socorro. Look to the sun.”

“What..?..”

Neytiri clenched the weaved floorboards of the pier. “The pain is agonising, and the tragedy may seem endless, but the sun will always rise. No matter what happens here on Eywa’eveng, it’ll greet us the very next morning.”

Spider looked up at Polemius; a giant orb with swirly patterns, gracing Pandorian sky.

“The sun will always rise.” Neytiri said, carefully, ever so carefully, moving her hand towards his, wanting to take the pain she is so aware of away from a boy so young. “Nor is the night starless.” She spoke, their fingers barely touching.

***

Curiously, Neytiri slept like a newborn after the conversation they had. Waking up with the morning rays, she saw that the marui had been emptied of all her family members, but she’d been tucked into a blanket. She’ll have to cook something big tonight, to reward her children and husband for working so hard to help Awa’atlu prepare for the future battle with sky people.

However, next to her lay a holo-pad. A human techno device used by Jake to contact their friends at high camp, and sometimes bythe Sully siblings to take photos. Tiredly, she picked up her head and stared at the screen. One of the icons was glowing, and she knew it meant that someone left a message. She pressed on it, expecting barely-comprehensible science gibberish written by Norm or Max.

Instead, it was a message written directly on this device. Neytiri read into the letters, her mind still foggy. 

Her heart sank into the ground.

Her face went pale. 

She leapt to a stance immediately, running as fast as she could through the village, a hundred emotions fighting to be felt, and a single question screaming to be answered.

Why?

The eclipse was not yet fully over when the warrior reached rocky cliffs on the edge of the island. Spider stood there, on the tallest edge, as still as a statue.

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU SAVE HIM!?” Neytiri screamed on top of her lungs, a human word escaping her in the state of panic.

Socorro turned to her, his face once more stained with tears, but his expression stone-serious. “I did it because….because he loves me, in his own horrible, fucked up way. He cared, and when push came to shove, he chose me over everything else!” He yelled to be heard over the crashing waves. “No one has ever done that for me before and, fuck!” He couldn’t keep up the front for long. “I love him too! I wish I didn’t! I swear I hate that I do! He’s a fucking monster and I regret my choices! But back there, I couldn’t stop myself!” He sobbed. “I was just…I didn’t want to be abandoned again.”

Neytiri glared at him, frantic, a small part of her wanting, truly wanting to understand, but getting overshadowed by anger and fear.

“Foolish boy! Do you understand what will happen?! He will come back for us! For your siblings!!”

Spider shook his head, breathing rapidly. “No, no, he doesn’t care for them. He only threatened you because he knew it would set off Jake. He wanted to bait him into a fight. It was his only goal all along.”

‘Tiri hissed, furious. “What is the meaning of all this? Why come here, to the outskirts, to say it!? Are you too much of a coward to face your sins head on!?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Off-handedly, the woman noticed that Socorro wasn’t armed.

“After yesterday, I made up my mind. I can’t make things right, nothing will make it right…but this nightmare can end with me.”

It took a moment for Neytiri to process what the boy had meant, but when it hit her, she couldn’t help taking a step back.

Spider didn’t run out here because he’s a coward.

He ran out here to help Neytiri get rid of the evidence.

“You…you want me to kill you.”

“Don’t you?”

Did she?

Neytiri was angry, and grieving, and afraid, and broken what felt like way beyond repair after the tragedies she’d faced. 

She hated Spider for whom he saved.

She hated what he represented so much.

She…

…

She didn’t want him to die, she realised, tearing up in frustration at herself. She recalled when he was a baby fitting into the palm of her hand, when he followed her like a little shadow and eager to prove himself, when he played with her children, when he gave Tuktirey one of her first necklaces, when he saved his siblings from the sky people who pursued them out of hell’s gate a year ago, when he went through torture at the hands of RDA, that cause him phantom pains, just to keep Omatikaya and their family safe. 

For so long, when meeting eyes with the child before her, she only saw Quaritch. A creature that would inevitablt morph into his exact copy.

But now, when it felt like she had gotten all the proof of it in the world, she looked at him…

And only saw Spider. 

Spider, the human Omatikaya from the forest, and no one else. Miles’s shadow was gone, no longer veiling the blonde away from her.

Neytiri wanted to pluck her eyes out in anger. Why, out of all moments, did she have to see him now? Why did the great mother tortue her so?

She sighed shakily. “I do not what a child’s blood in my hands. I am not him.”

Spider’s eyes widened, as he stared at her in shock, before eventually frowning and nodding. “Right. I’m sorry, of course you wouldn’t…fuck, I don’t know why I thought you would.”

Why did he?

Neytiri hated him, he knew that. They even had an argument once, a short but dramatic one, when the RDA had just returned to Pandora. He’d been so frustrated at the way she saw him, that he’d exploded on her in return that night, saying that Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were all the family he had because of her war.

He regretted those words every day.

It was another reason to get rid of him. Truthfully, Neytiri had every justification to go through with his murder. Spider wasn’t even a creature of Eywa, so could it really that big of a deal?

But, of course it was.

Neytiri is not a monster out to get him, though it seems like Socorro had come to believe it at some point because of her sheer resentment. 

And then Neteyam died, and everything made sense. Honestly, Socorro had been surprised she didn’t actually attempt anything herself. Truly, Tsahaka was a warrior stronger than any other he’d ever met. An ideal Na’vi.

He only wished he could have understood her sooner.

But now he did. 

“I get it. I…”

And he still needed to make up for his sins.

“It’s time I act like one of the people for once.”

And with those words, Spider’s exopack flew down the cliff, disappearing into the foam below.

Neytiri’s heart stilled as she watched the blonde choke in slow-motion, before her instincts took over and she leapt into action. 

Spider’s limp form in her arms, she ran back to Awa’atlu, counting down the seconds with her every stride.

Sky people only had four minutes to live after loosing air. 

Awa’atlu resided way further. 

She wouldn’t make it.

But Socorro was not any other human, was he? 

Neytiri held onto that thought like a life-line as she pushed Metkayina out of her way. Had Spider always been so small? So fragile? 

She almost missed the entrance when reaching her home, slipping on the weavings, but regained her footing quickly and dropped Spider off on her pallet, rummaging through technical equipment Spellman had brought two weeks ago for the blonde specifically. 

Somewhere here, it had to be here!

There.

She pulled out a brand new mask, setting a charged battery into the slot before picking up her child and fixing the visor over his face, pressing a button that would start filtrating air. 

For a gruelling moment, there had been nothing but silence, and Neytiri’s heart kept sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

It’s been six minutes.

But then, there was a deep, loud inhale, punctuated by frantic coughing and shaking. Neytiri held the blonde as he gulped for air like a fish out of water. 

A moment or two, Spider had been completely disoriented, frantically looking around him, when his eyes paused, staring into Neytiri’s bright yellow ones, almost glowing in the light of the sun.

Socorro looked heartbroken, on the verge of tears the longer the warrior held him. “Why…why did you do it!?”

In response to his panic, Neytiri snapped out of her initial stupor. “I saved your life you ungrateful boy!” She snapped back, yet holding him only tighter. 

“Wha-no! You were supposed-I should have-” He stumbled over his words, distressed. “I should have died!” He sobbed, trying wearily to push Neytiri away, but his strength was no match for hers. “Let GO!” He cried. “…please.”

“True warriors do not go out like this.” She hissed.

“I’m not a warrior. Never passed the iknimaya remember!?” He blabbered, still pushing against Neytiri’s shoulders. “Ending it all was the most honorable thing I could do!”

“No!” She grabbed him by the bicep, forcing him to look up at her. “The honourable thing would be to own up to one’s mistake!”

“It was not a mistake! Don’t you get it?! I CHOSE him in that ocean. I s…” He whimpered, loosing his will to fight back. “He saw me. And I saw him. You can’t own up to that kind of shit.”

Neytiri’s hold on Spider’s bicep tightened, as she searched for something to say; something that would discourage him from trying that kind of blasphemy again, when a crucial memory surfaced in her mind.

“My mother. The Tsahik…” She began. “She saved a spy once. A spy of the sky people. A spy that helped your father destroy our hometree. That man chose to help our enemy…but he owned up to his choices, and eventually redeemed himself.”

“…but I can’t become rider of the last shadow.”

“No, you cannot, but it isn’t why I chose him. He made a commitment of loyalty, and showed us all that he was ready to fight, whether forgiven or not. You’ve made a commitment of loyalty a long time ago. I should have seen it sooner…should have seen you.” She spoke, and it felt like a puzzle piece missing from her damaged soul had finally been put into place. 

Spider gasped, his heart skipping a beat.

“Maybe if I did…the demon wouldn’t be alive.”

“What!? No! That-it wasn’t your responsibility!”

“It had to be someone’s, and I was the closest thing you ever gotten to a mother. That fact alone should have…cleared my mind.”

Socorro wanted to protest, wanted to take the guilt off Neytiri’s shoulders…but had no idea what to say to make it better. Perhaps a small, dark part of him didn’t want to, revelling in the newfound validation he’d never felt before.

“I apologise if I made you feel like death was your best chance at redemption.”

It was Spider’s turn to ho into Neytiri’s shoulder. “No! No it wasn’t you! I just-I brought so much pain already, I thought it’d be best if I stop being a burden.” Spider croaked. 

“You’re no burden. Never were.” ‘Tiri responded without missing a beat.

Socorro met eyes with Neytiri once more.

She looked back, not a shred of malice behind her gaze. Hate still raged in her heart.…but the love for this strange child, whom she knew practically since he was born, who put his life on the line for the people, was stronger. 

He fit perfectly into her embrace. 

“…Never?”

“Never.”

And the world, as these two knew it, shattered. This time however, it felt perfectly fine.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap DocM77, 6/23/24

((A quick content advisory on this stream, Doc and his chat get into an involved and sometimes contentious discussion on the "Man or Bear" thought experiment between 1:11:00 and 1:35:00. I have omitted nearly all of it from this recap because it is literally impossible to fairly and fully recap that kind of discussion in this kind of format and also I didn't want to. Timestamps made during the discussion discuss what Doc was doing, but not what was being talked about.))

9:22 Doc brings his stream live with 52 seconds left on his 10 minute stream-start countdown clock. He is in his studio view and comments that the light appears to be getting pinker than ever. He doesn’t think it used to be quite this pink. Chat agrees that it is very pink. Doc thanks subs and donos from the countdown. Doc’s studio really is exceptionally pink. He makes an adjustment that might help a small amount. Chat is skeptical that anything changed. Doc is streaming on a Sunday today and that’s good, gives a chance to some viewers who might not be available on Saturday. He explains that he had thought the birthday party Doccy was invited to was today, but in fact it was yesterday. It was a good time except a kid almost broke Doc’s nose while playing on the playground with water. He got smacked in the face with a bucket. Chat is sympathetic but also laughing. Today Doccy is off visiting Grandma.

13:30 A chatter asks what happened to the rainbow beacon. Doc reveals that he eventually got tired of fixing it ((Something about the daily server reset was killing the beacon every day, Doc and Xisuma had been working on a way to fix it.)) and Bdubs eventually landscaped over it when he built the courthouse. The beacon is there in spirit, and may be rebuilt somewhere else later.

14:20 Doc brings up Hermitcraft, or tries to. It is a black screen. Things are working great in this professional stream environment, says Doc. He restarts Minecraft, saying this is a problem that happens occasionally. Today, he tells Chat, they get to share Doc’s daily experience of logging on and wondering if anything has been stolen. The alarm system is good, but not foolproof. The Ore Snatcher could use tools like chorus fruit and wool blocks in a risky ploy to steal another block. Doc’s paranoia has reached new heights, but he is also distracted because OBS is still not detecting Minecraft. He troubleshoots it.

17:10 Minecraft appears, but Doc has to fiddle with it some more before it will display properly with facecam and overlay. He logs on, telling Chat more about his daily fear. He logged out above the shop and cannot hear an alarm, so that’s good! He checks for a released warden and finds it in its place, then checks for newly missing blocks. Doc and Chat agree that there are no new missing blocks. Doc sings a smug song of satisfaction and dances on the grave of the Ore Snatcher. He is happy, but commenters have made him paranoid that maybe the Ore Snatcher hit the redstone in Big Wood. He will not feel okay until he checks.

21:00 Doc conducts a thorough survey of the Big Wood redstone. He has gotten a lot more sand paid into the shop and does not find any missing ore blocks, so is in a very good mood. He tells Chat that he has a new, lower sub goal that reflects the fact that the high rollers in Chat can’t keep making huge sub drops. As Doc returns to the trim shop, he responds to chat’s concerns that if the Ore Snatcher stops, nobody might ever know who it was. Doc tells Chat that he specifically designed the alarm system to be not-quite-impenetrable, that someone who is really dedicated… He trails off when the overlay does a strange thing, then takes a moment to thank more subs and his favorite of the Single Ladies. He picks up the thread and tells chat there are ways someone smart and dedicated (Cub, he is pretty sure) could get into the system. Doc is 60% sure at this point that it is Cub. Not many people could be so dedicated, careful and tricky just to piss Doc off, but Cub is just that kind of guy.

25:20 The Bdubs-shrieking phantoms are starting to come out now, so it is time to go inside. Doc switches back to studio view so Chat cannot see the Secrets of the Sand Pile. Chat is pretty on board with the Cub thing, they agree that Cub is the type to keep his pranks quiet and incredibly annoying. Doc disables the Warden alarm and enters into his redstone, only to discover that his secret door is not working. He does some yelling. He freecams around to see if that tricky Ore Snatcher has been at it again, but the cause is benign, a simple mistake probably caused by all the sleep Doc is losing lately. He breathes a sigh of relief but is still annoyed on principle. With the alarms disabled he can break the wall of his shop and access the bed he’s got hidden in the unfinished alcove back there.

27:50 Today Doc must, absolutely must, finish the interior decoration of the shop. He wants to have more armor pieces laying around like T-shirts set out for sale in a clothing shop, but he can’t figure out how to make it work. A chatter activates text-to-speech. Doc is pleased that it is working again. He tells Chat that next week he will be recording the Imp and Skizz podcast, something he’s really looking forward to. He tells Chat that Impulse has asked him what sorts of things he wants to talk about and asks for ideas. Chat thinks they should talk about who the Ore Snatcher is, and suggests that Doc should be as unhinged as possible. Doc asks if he’s allowed to swear, Chat says not much. They suggest no politics or talk about Elon Musk, so as to avoid a podcast that is a hundred hours of Doc ranting, and they want to hear Doc’s dad lore and stories about his basketball career. It could also be an opportunity for Doc to plug his interest in trying out the Life Series. Doc agrees that’s worth thinking about, then gets distracted talking about soccer/football with Chat.

31:20 Chat reminds Doc that his mic is hot. Doc says he likes the hot mic, but he turns it off so Chat will calm down about it. The shopping district is not exactly buzzing on a Sunday morning anyway. Doc points out that this is his area on the server and if people come near him they will hear him speak, just like in real life. This is apparently enough to convince himself and he turns the mic right back on again and goes back to talking sports. He once again declares victory over the Ore Snatcher, but says that the worst outcome would indeed be if the shenanigans stop and they never find out who did it. That would drive Doc and Chat extra crazy. Chat points out that if it is Cub, he has been known not to fess up to pranks for years.

33:20 Chat brings up the problem of shulker boxes to Doc. If a Hermit is using a wallet box and places it down to pay, how would they pick it up again without setting off the alarm. Doc is not worried because the alarm’s not going to be on all the time, and it’ll only be there for as long as the Ore Snatcher is active. So yes, basically anyone who tries to pay will set off the alarm. Doc is distracted by voice-to-text again, then decides what he really needs to do is talk to Xisuma. He searches up Xisuma’s coordinates and heads over there. Doc had ruled out Xisuma from the get-go because X is generally a peaceable guy, but now he has to investigate everyone. He flies down to land at X’s base, singing the “X gonna give it to you” song but replacing X with “Goat.”

34:50 Doc goes into the base and looks around. X is not visible but does tell Doc in chat that he made him jump with the singing. Doc continues searching and calling out, acknowledging that he can be really annoying when he wants to be. He finally spots Xisuma, on the path outside his base and begins a friendly and unsubtle interrogation. X says he has a great alibi, he hasn’t been on the server for the whole past week! Doc asks if he’s heard anybody talking about it, but X says only people in his chat speculating. Doc’s chat speculates that it could be Xisuma with the spelling errors, given that he could not remember how to spell “Field” during Wordle. Doc tells X about the alarm system, brags about his success, and worries that he’ll never learn the truth. Doc lays it on thick how much he trusts Xisuma and how he knows X would never-ever-ever do something like this because he’s such a nice and trustworthy guy. X agrees with this assessment and says it’s more likely that he would fix something he noticed off than break something, but does not come out and say that he is not the Ore Snatcher.

37:40 Doc agrees about X’s penchant for fixing things, but what about Evil X? Xisuma really can’t vouch for that guy, he’s liable to do anything. “But he’s not in the picture right now, right?” Doc asks. Xisuma is not sure, he doesn’t know what that guy gets up to while X is away, and he’s just mentioned being gone all week. Doc tells X that he’s pretty sure Ren is innocent. Ren is too busy; when he’s deep into the lore he can’t think about pranks. Scar is the police and the police can be corrupt, but Doc has interviewed him several times now and either Scar is innocent or Doc has vastly underestimated his skills as a smooth and plausible liar. Xisuma suggests maybe it could be someone who wants to earn Doc’s business… someone who has just built a courthouse and needs cases to be moving through it. Neither X nor Doc can really take Bdubs seriously as the Ore Snatcher. Doc points out that unlike some bored people (cough GRIAN cough), Bdubs is pretty much always grinding and building when he is online. But Grian is actually very busy right now and was on vacation, plus he is already involved in a whole snail-prank situation that neither he nor X are very familiar with. Doc says it sounds like money laundering to him.

40:00 X admits to Doc that he himself has been accused of some shady financial behavior in relation to his trophy scheme, where the Hermits sell things in their shop, earn diamonds, and then send their diamonds straight to Xisuma in exchange for a trophy saying how many diamonds they earned. Doc says that sounds like a Bitcoin scam to him. Chat is debating with itself about options like Grian, Gem and Etho for Ore Snatcher. X admits it may sound like NFTs, but the Hermits like it! Doc’s current suspicion list is Gem, Cub, and Joel, though Doc doesn’t really know him well enough for a real assessment yet. They had that interaction where Joel was clearly annoyed about having to shovel sand, and in Doc’s book that means motive. Honestly though, he has no real hints or clues to go on. He asks X to keep an ear out for the alarm in the shopping district and asks if there is a plug in they can add so Doc can get a cell phone ping if anyone comes near the shop. X reminds him that they try to do things the vanilla way on Hermitcraft. Doc walks off grumbling about “no sand duping, no phone monitoring, can’t do anything… this sucks.” Xisuma wishes him good luck.

42:00 Doc walks away and tells Chat that Xisuma is innocent and they all know it. Chat is batting around Jevin as a possible suspect. Doc insists he and Jevin are tight. He thanks subs and donos, then takes Chat over for a look at the new Poe Poe HQ that Scar just built. The new searchlight looks really cool at night. Doc still thinks it was almost certainly Cub. Chat suggests Impulse and Big Salmon, as well as Iskall, Joe Hills, Mumbo, Stress, Cleo, and the snails. Chat is not being super helpful at the moment, but they are full of enthusiasm and ideas. Doc says it’s not Beef and Chat will know why soon. ((This is one day before Beef makes the public announcement that he and his partner are expecting their first baby and he’s going to be very, very, very busy for the next little while!))

43:30 Doc forgets the inherent peril of every GoodTimesWithScar build and gets severely jumpscared by the creeper that sneaks up behind him. He’s not hurt but the front yard of Poe Poe HQ has lost some landscaping. Doc thinks that vandalizing Poe Poe HQ might not be the best move for a guy in his legal position, and it seems like the “SUE TODAY” banner on the courthouse might just be mocking him. He remembers that Scar’s building supplies chest monster hasn’t been picked up yet and goes to rummage through it for extra booshes. He finds some, but comes very, very, very close to blowing up Scar’s entire chest monster when another creeper pays a visit.

44:40 Doc uses freecam to show the now-underground broken rainbow beacon, buried under the road between the courthouse and the police station. The metaphor would be unbearably heavy-handed if it weren’t also obviously accidental. Doc replaces the destroyed bushes and takes a look at Poe Poe HQ by daylight, declaring it a really cool build. He laughs at the enormous POE sign and is confused by the sand countdown clock. Chat tells him it is counting down to the enforcement of the rule against popup shops in the shopping district. Doc wonders who made this, even as he finds a trapdoor with a sign reading “Ultra Redstoners Only.” Deciding he is definitely in that club, he enters without hesitation to check out the guts of the countdown machinery. He studies it for a moment and asks in complete befuddlement “Who _made_ this?” Hearing from Chat that it was Scar does explain a lot. Doc decides he had better leave before the redstone drives him insane.

46:40 Time to go back and work on interior design again. Doc does not want to do his interior design. He bemoans the fact that he got himself into a quarrel with Cleo, who would’ve been the perfect Hermit to tap for all the armor stand work he needs done but is now mad at him. He decides he should wander around and look for design ideas from other shops, because he is so uninspired. Chat suggests Joel has great interiors, so does Pearl. Doc admires Joel’s octopus but does not want one in his armor trim boutique. Chat thinks the octopus is amazing. Doc tells Chat they are useless. Chat doesn’t care; they want to go look at the Lizzie statue at Joel’s base. A chatter says they heard Doc was going to play Stardew Valley and is excited about it; Doc tells them he has played Stardew Valley through three times already. He’s exploited everything exploitable in that game and even made a tutorial for finding rare fish; Stardew Valley has nothing left for him.

49:00 Doc looks around in the honey shop for decoration ideas, but is disappointed to find no armor stand work to get inspired by. Chat wants to hear the song. Doc is unenthusiastic but plays the song. He goes on an entire facial journey as Chat grooves to the “Honey, Honey, Honey” song. “Jesus Christ,” Doc says. This puts Joel at the top of the suspect list as far as Doc is concerned. Anyone who could come up with that song is clearly capable of anything.

51:00 Further evidence of Joel’s potential villainy, putting his tree-trunk honey shop very close to the hourglass. Why would Joel put his wood thing next to Doc’s wood thing? Are they doing a wood comparison? Doc asserts that everyone knows Joel has small wood. Chat has a lot of feelings about this line of reasoning, most of which can only be expressed by emoji. Doc dismisses Joel’s wood shop as thicker, maybe, but stumpy, and then abandons all pretense and just mutters “smallishballs.” Chat is so upset.

52:10 Really though, at the end of the day Doc thinks it is Cub. And now it is time to hang up clothes in the armor trim shop. Chat reels momentarily from the quick change of topic, but gamely tries to help Doc decide what goes in a typical clothing shop. They suggest caps, a netherite chest plate, and a mapart of Karl Lagerfeld. Doc remembers he also wants to hang up his permit. He puts it up on his cash register and declares it good. Doc also has the dirt and rails permits he is not using just yet. One of the “single ladies” in chat demands shoes, Doc caters to the single ladies and adds a rack of shoes behind the counter.

57:00 Chat begins debating which types of shoes are best for the single ladies to wear. Doc places a pair of black boots, per chat request, and says he does not have a favorite type of shoe. Chat’s opinion on heels are divided, they don’t like how they feel but a short chatter points out that it is nice to be tall. Doc admits there are probably not any high heels available in his size, so he has never tried them. Chat could recommend him some places if he is interested. Chat says that for women, beauty is suffering. Doc agrees and says that is true for men as well! He recounts a time where he used waxing strips as part of a charity event; it has been four years and the hair has not fully regrown. He has to shave his legs now if he doesn’t want them to look patchy. Chat is sympathetic and also grateful that he specified legs. Doc says he was recently clocked as a waxer by another child’s mom at the swimming pool and could only defend himself with “It was for a good cause.”

1:00:00 Doc reads Chat and decides it is definitely time to stop talking about leg hair. He begins working on the armor stand boots again. He positions them on the rack and thanks subs again. Doc decides that the shoes will look better as high heels, but that requires quite a bit more manipulation. Chat provides advice and critique. They want red trim, so Doc pulls the boots off the armor stand and goes to the trim machine. Chat wants Dune trim in red, with red candles for heels. Doc wants to give Chat what they want, because it is important to make the ladies happy. Chat begins arguing amongst themselves over whether Hermitcraft-style Louboutins would have red candle heels or black candle heels. Doc wonders if there is a candle shop.

1:09:00 Chat finally starts trending in the black candle direction, so Doc heads for Papa Keralis’ shop. Doc likes that Keralis has the candle shop, he’d probably have one of those if he weren’t a YouTuber. He may look clueless but he is a very, very good businessman. Doc finds the disco at Keralis’ base and busts a few moves. He obliquely mentions some of the grooming controversies on YouTube lately and deflects any talk in that direction. A chatter says they would trust Doc with their drink. Doc and the rest of Chat agree that Doc would drink it. Doc cannot find the candle shop.

1:11:30 A chatter says they would pick Doc over the bear. This leads to a lengthy discussion with Chat over the man vs bear thought experiment. (“You are alone in the woods. Would you rather see a strange man or a bear?”) It is the sort of discussion that covers several controversial topics and is very difficult to recap accurately and with nuance by a recapper who is mostly interested in making funny jokes. For that reason (and because a detailed recap including Chat commentary might be triggering for some readers), it will not be covered here but can be viewed on the VOD.

1:19:00 Doc’s mod asks if Doc would still love them if they were a worm. Doc makes an unflattering “ehhhhhhhh” sound and then says he would still love their soul. He might also love them if they helped create good soil for the tomatoes. Doc remembers he was supposed to be finding the candle shop and making high heels for shoes. A chatter gives him directions to the candle shop. He is still distracted by his discussion, but purchases black candles and heads back to the armor trim shop.

1:25:00 Doc resumes work on the black and red high heels. He is not sure about the candle heel, it’s actually pretty big when he puts it on the armor stand, and not quite the same color. Chat reminds him that the stand can be made smaller, but the color is a tougher nut to crack. Doc wonders if a blackstone stair or a block of coal might do the job better. He might need to mine some blackstone.

1:30:00 A chatter asks if Doc is going to be collaborating with other streamers or Hermits to play other games on stream. Doc says Hermitcraft takes up all his time and energy, so probably not. He heads for the Nether and finds a patch of blackstone to mine. He comes back and makes some blackstone walls and tries on on the armor stand. It is not quite right either.

1:35:30 Doc tries a blackstone button instead, it seems better. Chat agrees that it seems good. A chatter comments on the ground that the conversation has covered today. Doc makes a joke about Brazilian Wax being the opposite of Big Bear. Chat misses the joke, but Doc knows he is funny. He has to get out his calculator to adjust the angles on the armor stand. Chat makes semi-helpful commentary on the angle of the shoe and the heel. The original chatter who requested the black high heels gifts two more subs and says they look great. Doc regrets his life choices in agreeing to make heels. They are not turning out the way he’d hoped. He swears a little and keeps manipulating the angle of the heel, then realizes he also doesn’t like the color. He blames the single moms.

1:43:10 A chatter asks if Doc would consider going to Twitchcon. Doc says the only good thing about cons like that is meeting the audience. He’s not interested in meeting other content creators except Hermits. He’s been to lots of events and mostly finds content creators loud and obnoxious. He tries an anvil, which is the wrong color. Chat suggests black glazed terracotta, end rods, coal blocks, and making the boots into Crocs instead of high heels. Doc tells them that if he tries the coal block and it works, then Chat is to blame for forty wasted minutes. He tries a piece of black dye and says it could be a beard, but not a heel. The question arises whether Chat would rather go to the woods with a spider or a bear. Doc is outraged when Chat continues to choose bear, though some savvy chatters are asking how big the spider is. It is an Australian spider, so probably pretty big.

1:46:50 Doc tries a blackstone block as a heel and continues regretting everything. He accidentally gives the armorstand his sword and destroys the thing in a fit of pique. He is about ready to give up on high heels. A chatter suggests it might be time to beg Cleo for forgiveness, but Doc will NEVER. A chatter suggests leaving the heels imaginary. A chatter suggests making the shoes roller skates.

1:49:20 Doc puts an Enderman head on the armor stand, then puts it in the stand’s hand. He can’t place it properly because of armor stand interference. He is doing a lot of under-the-breath muttering, but the only clear word is “stupid.” The heels are fine without actual heels on them. He remembers he has some mini diamond ore blocks and wants to put some around for decoration. Even this is much harder than anticipated because there are invisble armor stands everywhere. Doc has so many regrets. He does not seem to know the scroll-wheel trick for the armor stand mod. He successfully places the miniblock on a shelf.

1:53:40 Doc steps back and looks at the display. It looks all right. He decides to make some more leather armor and talks about how happy he’s going to be when he’s done with this interior. His next shop is going to be a hole in the ground. Chat suggests that maybe Cleo will feel bad for the heels and fix them. Doc doesn’t know if Cleo is a heel person or not. And he doesn’t know if he can trust Cleo in this shop, who knows what they might do! ((In Cleo’s stream a few hours later, they do notice and fix a number of armor stand problems, but not the heels in particular.)) Doc makes another hanging chestpiece to look like a shirt.

1:56:30 A chatter says the court case is going to be entertaining. Doc says it’s going to be crazy. He talks with a chatter about subs and donos. A chatter surprises Doc with voice-to-text. Doc talks about which chatters are “sugar daddy” or “sugar mama.” He does more hanging clothes along the back wall, using the copy-paste function on the armor stand mod. Several chatters make gifts of subs. Doc thanks them but reminds them that big donos are never required or expected, just appreciated. Doc notices one DCP chatter is not around anymore after the discussion earlier. A chatter tells him that the DCP are all busy drawing him waxing his legs.

2:02:00 A chatter asks what the DCP is, Doc explains it is the Doc Collaboration Project, the fanartists who originally came together to create the murals on the Perimeter but who also do a lot of Doc fanart and amplify and support one anothers’ art. He creates another hanging shirt.

2:05:30 Doc tells a story about Doccy learning to make rhymes in German. Doc told Doccy to take a bath, but Doccy would rather eat chocolate. Chat asks about the time when Doc used to have long hair. Doc says yes, it used to be over his shoulders in finger-thick dreadlocks. He has no pictures of this era, but his mother might. Back when Doc was young, people didn’t take pictures all the time like the kids these days. Doc has a picture of himself at a religious milestone ((He is not sure of the name in English, calls it communion but it sounds like it might be confirmation)) wearing tight leather pants and a blazer with enormous shoulder pads, plus steel-toed safety sole boots and dreadlocks. Eventually his beard started to grow in too, but only a soul patch. Chat is overwhelmed by this mental picture.

2:09:30 A chatter asks what the deal is in Germany with sparkling water. Doc doesn’t know, Europeans just love sparkling water. There’s lots of different kinds, and they prefer juice mixed with sparkling water to most soda. Doc likes apple juice and sparkling water. Chat is not sold on the merits of sparkling water and Doc can sympathize. A chatter mentions Twitter, Doc warns them not to mention anything about “Elmo” Musk, because that is worse than mentioning Disney to Scar. There will be ranting. A chatter talks about the Sodastream carbonation machine. Doc has one, he and Doccy both like it.

2:13:30 Doc starts organizing some of his strewn shulkers. He talks about his own drink, vitamin juice and sparkling water. Chat admires his glass. He puts diamond pants on the last armor stand, turns them into shorts and hangs them up. Doc and Chat talk about what kinds of fruit juices they like best. A chatter wants trims on the leather chestpieces, Doc doesn’t know about that. That wastes a lot of trims, but this is the trim shop.

2:17:00 Doc fancies up the hanging tunics. Chat provides suggestions for trims and materials. A chatter asks what will happen if the Ore Snatcher replaces the diamond ore miniblock with a deepslate miniblock. Doc tells Chat not to give the Ore Snatcher ideas. Chat and Doc both like the look of the trimmed outfits he is creating. Chainmail pants with redstone trim looks a lot like a neat skirt. A chatter suggests making the tops actually match the bottoms of the hanging outfits, but Doc is not very concerned about that.

2:24:00 Doc is getting into it now and begins trimming the outfits on the sculptures he created earlier. It’s something Louis Vuitton would do, he declares. He really likes the way trimmed chainmail looks. He makes a chainmail helmet and sets it on the shelf of the back wall.

2:29:20 The shop is good, but could use some paintings. Doc can’t remember how to make paintings. Chat reminds him of the recipe, but he has no wool. He has to go visit the Wolves of Wool Street. Chat awoos. Doc realizes that wool is sold by the four-stack and decides to go buy string instead. He only needs one wool block! Doc declares Bdubs’ 1 diamond per string stack a much superior deal to WoWS’s diamond block per four stacks of wool and hopes they don’t find out Bdubs is undercutting them.

2:32:00 A chatter asks if anyone is surprised that Doc hasn’t sworn yet. Doc asks what the fuck they are talking about, then covers his mouth. Chat is amused. A chatter does the math and points out that Bdubs is basically selling seven wool blocks worth of string for a diamond, making WoWS a consderably better deal. Doc manages to get the walking man painting in his shop and says it looks like it belongs in a clothes shop. He says Bdubs is still a better deal if you only want one block of wool. He hangs several more posters.

2:35:30 Doc declares that this is enough detail and the shop is finished. Chat agrees, this is enough. He notices two armor stands that still need clothes, but after that he is calling it done. But the shop should have some music, so it’s time to pick some! He starts testing songs. They are VERY LOUD. Doc and Chat bop along with the music. A chatter demands CBAT. A chatter suggests Soulside Eclipse. Doc finds a song called Top Ten (or Chop Ten?) and Chat agrees it is the best shopping vibe music yet. He goes out and comes into the store to see what it would be like to shop to this music, and immediately starts yelling at the imaginary shopkeeper to turn down the music, it’s way too loud and he just wants to buy some pants!

2:41:00 A chatter has a birthday. Doc sings an unintelligible version of Happy Birthday and tells them now they can feel like Pearl. He says he might hit Jono up for shop beats, or says anyone who wants to can hit him up on Twitter with some beats. Music is always a problem because there are lots of talented musicians and he’d like to feature more of them, but DMCA makes things really hard. Doc puts the music back on. It is still quite loud. The headphone chatters have feelings about it. Doc comes across a song that sounds like the guitar beginning to an early 2000s pop ballad and begins improvising words to it, seconds before a vocalist actually starts up with a not dissimilar theme. Doc is pleased to have been proven right; Chat thinks it’s hilarious.

2:45:00 Doc goes through more varieties of music, none of which are quite right. He tries “A Sitar Story” and likes it. Chat likes it too. Doc improvises an armor trim song to go with the music. It’s nice but very much in conflict with the visual theme of the shop. He tries a few more. A song with a strong beat comes on, he and chat all jam along. A lounge jazz song comes on, it is too sophisticated. Doc finds a song called Emotional Mess and calls it relatable, but not what they are looking for. “Classic 1985 Music Soundtrack” is aptly named, but also not quite the thing. Chat suggests using the permit office music. Doc insists that when they hear the song, they will all know.

2:50:00 More music browsing. The lead mod asks Chat to watch their boss, because they have to pee. Chat will not make any promises. Doc is currently telling an epic tale of a Goat in a swamp who crushed everyone to the tune of an epic prologue. He switches channels again and asks why everything is so lame or too pushy. Chat is starting to wonder if CBAT is actually the best option. Doc finds a song called Snowfall Butterflies and wonders if someone was trying to find the cutest words they knew for a name. He jams to another song, then keeps scrolling. Chat has given up and are just grooving along. Doc finds music that is perfect for a shop he would hate, where no one will tell you whether your pants fit.

2:54:30 Doc finds some music he likes and improvises armor trim-related lyrics for it. The mod comes back and asks if Doc was good. Chat doesn’t know. More music, more grooving. Doc finds a song he would enjoy if it were the early 80s and he liked cocaine. Especially if his name was Falco. The music becomes increasingly baffling to Doc’s sensibilities. He decides there is nothing good in the YouTube Audio Library and wonders if YouTube asked musicians especially for their shittiest songs. Chat suggests it’s copyright-free for a reason.

2:59:00 Doc has been streaming for hours and has just heard Doccy and Karin come home, which means it is time for him to return to the real world. He asks for an up-down vote on whether the shop is done. Chat says yes, it’s done. That means next week will be the grand opening! After that the dirt shop, then the rails shop. Also, Doc has found a loophole regarding concrete farms, but does not elaborate. A chatter reminds him to activate the alarm before he goes. Doc pops into studio view so chat can’t see the secret switch. He looks for someone to raid. Martyn IntheLittleWood is on, but Doc raided him last week and Martyn got very jealous over the whole Ren marriage thing. Doc saw it on Twitter! He decides to raid Martyn anyway, thanks subs and donos, reminds Chat to ask Martyn why he has little wood, and ends his stream.

[ominous-feychild]

all of your wips sound so cool! i'm really interested in 'soren magic puppet guardian' and 'lynsmouth's 'families',' if you mind sharing some stuff about either of those :)

Sorry for taking so long to get to this! I wanted to be able to give you a good quality answer and have either been busy with other stuff or haven't had the energy to address this yet! (To anyone wondering, this is an ask from this tag!)

Fair warning: this is going to be LOOOOOONG!

"Soren Magic Puppet Guardian"

So! This (as were all of my threads, haha) was a very on-the-nose name. Soren Ula--the dad of Freya, the MC of Sun and Shadow--is a well-renowned merchant. He owns a massive shipping company that spans most of the world, but what few know about him is that he's both an avatar (an agent of a god) and a faerie!

I've yet to explain what exactly faeries are in my writing, so I'll give a quick explanation! Faeries are almost sub-gods--powerful creatures that technically aren't even "creatures" so much as they are sentient clouds of magic. Most create physical bodies for themselves, but few leave the Faewildes and even fewer attempt to live "normal" lives.

Soren is a faerie of the ocean. Meaning, he is lowkey an actual god of oceans. In-story he's mentioned to have powerful ocean magic--that's because he is the ocean in many ways. He's just long-since taken on a human form to the point that he doesn't even feel dysmorphic in the form he lives in today (which is unheard of in faeries! They always have some aspect of "themselves" on their physical body, or they'll feel detached from and/or uncomfortable in it)!

The reason I explain this faerie business? If you haven't been able to tell, faeries are incredibly powerful creatures with both their own magic and minor reality-warping abilities within The Real World. (The Faewildes is also Real, but... not "the Real World". Just accept that for now, haha.)

(Skipping Spoilers!? 👀)

When Soren found Freya, his long-lost daughter, in Drønhals, he immediately set to getting her a home in the area. He had a vast amount of wealth from his work and he was long-since known to be an avatar of Levebol, so he had little to no problems doing so.

Except... he'd built a life in the time since he'd lost his family. He had his company, he had his work with Kieran Caron, and how many questions would be raised if he suddenly stepped down from it all?

No. As much as he wanted to stay with his daughter, it would be dangerous for him to. And as much as he'd tried hiding his involvement with Caron, it was entirely possible that people could find it out, track him down, and then find her. And she was just a little girl! Not even five!

(Yes, you are reading that correctly. Long-lost daughter. Implications of at LEAST decades passing. And yet she's not even five years old yet? 🤔🤔🤔)

No, he couldn't stay with her. He'd do anything to protect her... including practically abandon her.

Except, Soren didn't have to abandon her, even if he left to pretend everything was exactly as it was before. He still had power, even if it was nowhere as much as he used to. So he created a magic charm with a little bit of his soul in it.

Literally.

This "charm", containing both some of Soren's soul and a good bit of his magic, is capable of creating a "puppet" of sorts that's more of a semi-tangible hologram. Thanks to it having a bit of his soul (something literally only possible thanks to him being a faerie), he's able to "consciousness-switch" with it, letting him, well... be an actual guardian for his daughter.

Or, well, y'know. The closest thing to a guardian you can be when you're essentially puppeteering a robot from thousands of miles away to take care of her.

Long story short! Freya grew up with a "magic puppet guardian" of Soren that he could use to simultaneously always be by her side and, yknow... literally never be there for her. It's caused a LOT of complexes in Freya, and is also the main source of the tension in her relationship with him.

When she was younger, she liked it--it was like having her father with her at all times! And she lovesd her dad! But by her teenaged years it turned into resentment for being a sort of half-measure of his in order to "be there for her". She's actually not aware that he did it to basically minimize the likelihood of Bad People™ noticing her and going after her to hurt Soren, but... tbh it wouldn't change her feelings much on the matter if she did know.

In fairness... it's not like he was never actually there. He'd spend time with her in the form of the puppet whenever he didn't have anything else to do in His Real Body on the Slumbering Serpent (his ship). "He"/the puppet would take care of her in small ways, driven on by the small bits of his consciousness within it to carry out tasks he wished he could do. And, hey! He'd sometimes be able to stop by and spend a few days to a week in his real body whenever the trade routes allowed for it! But, yknow... didn't much make up for the fact that, besides what was essentially a zombie a majority of the time, Freya grew up completely alone (and oh boy there's more to that).

The "puppet" wasn't always active by the way--the charm could be manually disabled/enabled, and the puppet and its magic would withdraw into it as commanded. Whiiiiich is what turned into the case in Freya's mid teens, as she started getting angry with Soren and her whole situation. 😅😭

In case you were wondering! Yes, Soren could see/hear/feel/and everything else through the puppet and charm! When he wasn't "possessing" them, though, it was very faint sensations, like the tiniest of breezes across the cowlicks on your head. Freya personally wondered on more than one occasion if he ever used it to eavesdrop on her (as she ALWAYS kept it with/on her), but he never actually did.

What? He's already basically neglecting her, he didn't need to make her resent him for also invading in her personal business and giving her trust issues!

(Don't worry, though, she got those anyways. 😙👌)

Don't get me wrong--he didn't avoid eavesdropping just because he didn't want to give her trust issues. (Just.)

He also did it as a sign of respect for his daughter! Y'know, because he loves her!

Note: Freya lost the charm at sea during the shipwreck that destroyed the Slumbering Serpent in the first chapter of Sun and Shadow. Who knows where it is now, what will come of it, or if it'll ever appear elsewhere again?

I mean, probably not, right? After all, it got lost at sea! It would be ridiculous for it to end up on land!

... like Freya did. 🤔

Aaaaaand... I think that about does it for "Soren Magic Puppet Guardian"! 😄

This was a LOT, so I think I'm actually going to leave this post here, haha. If you'd also like to hear about Lynsmouth's "Families", please send me another ask! Hope you enjoyed reading and/or that this was as satisfying as you hoped it would be! 😊

Divider from @cafekitsune

[godkilller]

sometimes I look at your aigin verse and think how different this relationship looked for each of them. It's more like for Aizen, Gin was something like a ray of light in his world, someone who was finally able to see the real him and gradually relieved him of his isolation. but for the gin everything was the opposite

out of character. Thank you for the ask! I appreciate hearing feedback on the way I navigate dynamics with Gin, and this one is certainly a tangled up mess. Your observation is right; the way Gin views Aizen in most scenarios, especially post-Winter War, involves likening him to a black hole. I've also had Gin, I believe when younger, describe the intensity of Aizen's focus on him as the same sensation one would get when wading in dark ocean waters and seeing a shark's black eye looking back at them whilst being circled. Gin has acknowledged Aizen's brighter forms of intensity (he still will mention the heat and forcefulness like the power of the sun/etc.) but ultimately his most used descriptor of Aizen is that he's like a black hole.

A black hole is nothingness, it consumes everything, even light, and in some ways a black hole is daunting and inevitable the same way it's sad and a terrible thing. A sun's collapse inward. Aizen is a black hole in the way that he can appear empty, yet be all-encompassing. Aizen has 'weight' yet is untouchable, Aizen is enormous and imposing yet equally so he is incredibly far away. He has a pull to him, an inescapable one that Gin feels trapped in. Gin feels isolated, yet Aizen feels like he's no longer alone. While others may liken Aizen to the sun, and while he may still share many of those symbolic points, Gin knows that the sun Aizen could've been has long since soured, tainted by the Hogyoku and his power-seeking manipulations and experiments -- everyone thinks Aizen is the sun, still, while not knowing the truth; people are basking in a dead, flat light. It's no wonder Aizen effortlessly created that fake sun in Las Noches, he's good with that sort of falsehood.

In many ways Gin's opinion of Aizen is always shifting based on the context of the thread, but he's overall always influenced by his hatred. Simultaneously, Gin respects Aizen, so it's a strange duality to have bundled up in there -- and the harder part comes with Aizen's view of Gin sometimes bordering on obsessive and idolizing, but don't tell Lu I said that. Aizen's view of Gin as someone who can do no wrong because he harbors such biased and strong feelings for him makes it so even in his most dedicated moments, Aizen is not genuinely ever going to understand Gin properly. Not until some serious corrective work is done. He'll see him as the moon, as his light in the dark, and maybe that has some truth to it in terms of Gin being used as Aizen's sounding board and giving Aizen bold feedback he couldn't get from Tousen due to Tousen being too loyal and quick to not question what Aizen does.

But in a deceptive way, Aizen's own view of Gin in that light makes it so he himself can't see past that self-written poetry and symbolic view of Gin, and he is left neglecting the clues and hints of hurt and hate Gin holds within. If Aizen does happen to notice those things, he's more inclined to look the other way or push it under the rug due to those feelings and almost downright clinginess to Gin. He cannot claim to love Gin while not able to see the whole of him, and in that way there's an imbalance between them that spans beyond mere reiatsu; Aizen at last found someone who can see him, and yet Gin will never let Aizen see him in the same way because he won't ever forgive him for what was done to Rangiku in the Rukongai. It's not healthy on either end.

But that's why I do enjoy writing the dynamic and exploring the whys and hows of it all. So thank you again for sending this!

[dalliansss]

Findekano surveys his reflection on the mirror. A very familiar face looks back at him – not thoroughly recognizable because of the fracturing scar that traverses the said face diagonally, akin to a river with silver water, crossing the landscape of his face, beginning from the right temple, cutting across his right eye, then across his nose, his left cheek, then all the way toward his left jaw. The exact place where this scar cuts his eyebrow is a barren piece of skin; no hair has regrown there, and nothing will, ever. The eye itself, which had been gray-blue, is milky-white, not completely blind, but not restored with perfect vision either. It can still see, but for shadows – and when he had first come out of the Halls of the Awaiting, Anaire his Amil had been rightly distressed, and even petitioned to the Valar sitting at Mahanaxar to ‘put him back to rights, as someone healed should not look damaged’. But Namo never took Findekano back into the halls for a ‘repair’, considering he is no tool, nor broken ornament. 

And anyway, Findek– Fingon would not have chosen an undamaged hroa other than this one. Why his Amil would like him back untouched and smooth he does not understand. 

He finishes dressing. These days he does not braid his hair into its age-old familiar plaits twined with gold; instead he lets loose all the gorgeous and thick curls of his black hair, to hang until his bottom, unbound. It lets him disappear into a crowd easier, this new way of presenting himself to the public. If his scarred face does not otherwise deter the rudely curious, then by looking like a generic Noldo or Sinda, he can make a quick escape to avoid unwanted questions and prying. 

Fingon sets out from his house (his house, his old one, he had returned to as soon as his hroa stabilized; as soon as he could feed and bathe himself and not rely on his mother and the scores of attendants she hired for him), smoothing down his tunic. These days he has forsaken the blue and silver he had been known for before the Exile, at Beleriand. Colors of his father’s house. These days he wears soft browns, dark grays, whites. Something different. 

He turns now to the path toward the royal palace in Tirion, and for a moment he pauses on the street to admire the beacon of Mindon Eldalieva. He wonders if the builders are anywhere near finishing the house he has commissioned for himself, away from Tirion – because like countless others Re-embodied like him, Fingon felt it wrong to be returning to Tirion, and be expected to pick up the threads of an old life. He cannot do that. Who can do that, in the first place? Not him. 

Ingoldo, who had Re-embodied first among all the exiled Noldor, could not do it. Fingon resumes walking and he pauses again just before the palace, where the ruins of a statue are left, and nothing remains of it except the legs. It is the only eyesore in Tirion – the only destroyed sculpture there. It had been Ingoldo’s statue, standing proud and unmarred, extending his hand in victory, his blank face looking ahead. Fingon had only heard the stories, but what he knew was this: Ingoldo had hated that statue, and took a sledgehammer to it, bashing it down, destroying it, and the citizens of Tirion could only look on in horror and pity, thinking their crown prince had gone mad.

After that, Ingoldo left Tirion, and nobody knew where he went.

Fingon walks onward, thinking vaguely: but who can blame Ingoldo?

==

Council is not the same. The people who sit by the king’s table these days are lords and ladies of the Noldor who are Arafinwe’s people; many of them never left Aman. Fingon is unsure why he is invited to sit in these sessions; he was only king in Beleriand, and upon Re-embodiment, his title was forfeit. Yet he still comes, because Arafinwe looks to him to help in matters of accommodation: how to welcome the returning Noldor, Re-embodied or Returned or, in the very rare cases, Reborn. Fingon could only offer so much help; and even then mostly pertaining to his host, which remained with him to the end. He cannot answer for the Nargothrondrim, or the Gondolindrim – and Eru forbid, the Feanorian people. 

He sits at the far end of the table, Fingon. He is silent during these sessions, only taking down personal notes, content to listen. The lords and ladies have adjusted to his presence, though many still shoot him looks – looks which they think he cannot sense, nor perceive. There is always a varying degree of pity in their glances; if not pity, then shock, then horror. 

He knows what they think of him: not healed enough; a terrible death; not healed enough, why was he let out? Are we going to expect more like him?

They had their answer a few years prior, where more Eldar were released from Mandos: many were allowed to Re-embody with scars and injuries intact. But there were the very few who were returned flawless, as was in Maedhros’s case – he stumbled out of Mandos unscarred, with both hands, and his skin was smooth and untouched. Aikanar, Aegnor– Egg – had returned in pretty much the same way. No scars. Smooth. Unmarred and perfect. Angrod has returned like that as well. On the contrary, Curufin, Celegorm and Caranthir – they all retained their scars. Curufin had a dark necklace of scar tissue around his neck: a decapitation. Celegorm had many starburst scars of arrows, and two gruesome explosions of scar tissue on his back and across his gut. Caranthir had a big, diagonal scar down his back, and a bald, scarred patch near his nape, which could be concealed by his long hair, but it was there, and on that patch of scar tissue, no hair will ever regrow again.

No questions were posed onto Fingon today. Council ends, and the lords and ladies pile out, and he remains seated, completing his notes. He supposes Ingoldo– Finrod, was supposed to be the one to do this, to answer for the needs of the returning exiles, but Finrod had long absconded, escaped Tirion. Fingon knew for a fact that Arafinwe tried and tried, but whatever royal summon Tirion sent never reached its intended recipient, or else Finrod threw them straight into the fire, never bothering to read the contents.

==

Entulesse is the unofficial name that town by the foot of the Pelori has been given, both by its inhabitants and the elves that never left Aman. At first a hamlet that sprung up like a mushroom in the wild, it blossomed into a village, then a hamlet, then a town as more were Re-embodied and sailed back. The inhabitants were mostly Noldor, as the greater population of the Sindar chose to reside in Eressea, though a handful dared to sail into Valinor completely and then eventually found their way to Entulesse. 

Fingon finds Finrod by the market, his pretty nose crumpled as he inspects some bushels of apples. He stands beside his cousin and picks up an apple with a gloved hand, making Finrod exclaim a surprised Ai! Which was followed by a laugh, and a hug. Fingon returns that hug, squeezing the golden-radiant elf. His extremities are not scarred, Finrod. But Fingon knew he was lucky; his scars could be hidden by clothing.

After Finrod’s business in town is tended to, they return to his homestead together. Maedhros is already there, feeding some ducks and chickens. He straightens up, and under the daylight, his red hair glints like a thousand rubies. 

“Look what I found at Entelusse!” Finrod beams as they get down from his wagon. “A lost Finno!”

“Where is the usual companion? Where is Egg?” Maedhros asks with a smile as he sets aside his emptied bucket of feed.

“Egg went to Eressea,” Fingon replies as he approaches his cousin and hugs him briefly. “He will not be back until next season I think.”

“And he let you leave him? Impossible.”

“Contrary to common belief, we do things in separate ways now and then.”

==

Supper was lovely. Mulled wine was served, and the fire at Finrod’s hearth was warm and welcoming. At some point, peering into it, Fingon confirms that the royal summons from Tirion are tossed straight into it– there were still there the remnants of the tie used by the King – the same small, thin rope Finwe used, long ago – smoldering by the log. He says nothing of it. 

After supper, and amid cups of wine, they play a card game learned in Beleriand. Finrod floors him and Maedhros each time, such that there comes a point where Fingon exclaims, “What are you, a Balrog?!” to which Finrod only laughs and laughs.

==

The three of them eventually join a few of the ornery goats at Finrod’s rooftop. They are all tipsy, and Fingon feels warm in the cheeks as they pass the bottle of wine between themselves, taking a sip each. The great billy goat is resting by the biggest chimney and Maedhros is using it as a pillow. For once, the menace of an animal is cooperative and tolerating Maedhros. 

As the hours pass and as they watch, sunrise slowly unfurls from the east, bathing the world first in purple, then lavender, then pink, then rose – then everywhere, gold, gold, gold.

Fingon closes his eyes against the gentle light, and he both wants to smile and weep at the same time. 

“I think we should sail,” comes Finrod’s voice. “Who’s with me?”

“Sail where?” Fingon asks, opening his eyes.

“Sail back east, of course,” Finrod says, and he sits there, all golden-radiant, hugging his knees, and his gaze shifts from Maedhros to Fingon. “Oh come now, do not tell me you will both remain here until Dagor Dagorath? Let us sail -- and be the first Eldar to return to Cuivienen, or make it all the way to the Gates of Morning!”

“And how do you suppose we will find the Straight Road back to the east?” Maedhros laughs, but he is sitting back up now, unaware the billy goat is sniffing at the ends of his red hair. 

“Come now, Nelyo. It’s us three. Nothing is impossible,” Finrod grins.

“I should tell Egg,” says Fingon. “He’ll go with us.”

“Put him to use,” says Maedhros. “Tell him to look for a nice coastal place where we can build and provision a boat undisturbed and undiscovered.”

The three of them exchange mischievous looks. Fingon feels his blood slowly start to warm, then run hot, and excitement courses through him again, spurred on by the promise of a proper return.

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Spolia (VI)

Parings: Malleus/(Light Fae) MC // Slight Rook/Vil // Trein/MC (Parental)

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings.

Notes: I hope you hurt the way I did :) sharing is caring

CW: Verbal/Physical Abuse and Neglect, dissociation, depressive state

AO3 Link Here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 (Here) // Part 7

Masterlist

——————————————————

Malleus desperately swam against the motion of the crowd to reach a hand out to you. But when he looked through your eyes, he could feel the phantom thread that he used to trace back your ghostly presence splinter when you gazed back with wild eyes, and ran from him. Ah, right. A realization he had buried deep within himself arose to the surface.

They all run eventually, he thought.

“Ooh. Malleus, look, (Name)’s painting is spreading like wildfire over Magicam.” Lilia tilted his device so Malleus could see the page filled with pictures of your paintings, along with some photos of your own face. He silently gazed back to where you had ran off to in slight concern, mingling with the utter emptiness he felt without you. Though no matter how many times he looked back at the painting and felt like he was going to be swallowed into it, he couldn’t help but to physically clutch his heart in order to prevent that. While the ringing ache he felt in his chest from your quick departure locked his feet into the ground in deep longing, he also resisted movement from the gravitational pull of your creation. For one of the first times in his life, Malleus felt like there was an unforgiving force even he could not subdue, planting his feet into the ground in still paralysis. He felt a chill in his arms and legs, despite a few moments before being ignited by your painting. When he flickered his gaze down to his clenched hands, he found frost forming at the bottom of his legs, snaking their frigid branches up and up towards his heart. He quickly returned his gaze upwards.

“Malleus.” He did not move his head, fearing that if he did not trail your ghostly presence, you would completely disappear from this world. Lilia gave a small pat on his back. “Give them time. We can check on them tomorrow before we leave, alright?”

“Malleus. Malleus. It’s time to go.” Lilia shook his shoulders a bit, his warm touch against the frost raveling itself around his body calling him back to the present. With little effort, he broke apart the ice around his legs, silently stepping towards the door.

Time. Malleus had always had plenty of it, and it was all he had in the end. But with you, it was never enough. Time, something that had always left him empty when those who filled it left, was not nearly enough to contain how tremendously you filled his heart and life. He remained frozen in that empty time, feeling the turbulent waves of time wash over him. People, age, and life seemed too fast, too unkind without you. He felt himself being weathered by it, becoming so brittle he would break apart and fall to pieces. The fragments of his heart would just fall to the spiraling void of time. But oh how he wished you were there to pick them up and embrace them all at once to make him feel whole again.

“Lilia?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think…” The question felt like a curse on his lips. “Do you think we will be able to see them before they go?”

Lilia nodded. “Of course. I’ll even have Sebek wake us all up early in the morning to ensure that.” Malleus was silent, knowing he would not need the early wake up call. He didn’t feel that he could sleep tonight. The moon was too bright, too beautiful, too far, gone too soon. It reminded him too much of you.

——————————————————

“Be here by 5 o’clock in the morning. Do not be late, otherwise I will come and get you.”

Your mother’s voice rattled in your skull, which held an ache that spread through your entire body. Maybe it was because you had crawled into your closet last night and slept in it. You had hoped you wouldn’t even be awake in this moment to know that. You wished for sleep, you wished for rest‒ you wished for peace but it never came, it never does.

Sitting your body in front of the mirror, you groomed your own hair and face until it was an acceptable form for your mother. When you were done, you stilled yourself in front of the mirror, looking far into your eyes for anything. Any scathing anger, deep remorse, heart shattering despair that was left inside of you to crystallize into tears, sweat, blood‒ anything that could pour out of you to cleanse your poisonous body. But empty hues stared back, no matter how much you pulled your eyelids open to catch a glimpse of humanity left. But again, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You did not feel your body walk through the cool school grounds, to the mirror chamber where you would be transported back to that home. The chill from the snow outside seeped into the chamber, and you felt your body grow even colder, and numbed from it.

Whose performance were you watching? How many people were you? Your eyes felt like they were far above your body, a voyeur to your own body and its movements. This space between you and yourself came in waves as you lived life with your family, but today, it felt like that sea of distance washed over you, sinking you to the depths of its stomach.

“(Name)!”

You turned your body to face the voice, and you felt yourself being slammed into your body once more, the scathing pain returning to your chest, thrashing like a rabid animal. Malleus stood at the door frame, hair disheveled and quickened breath. You felt that prayer, that curse bellow in your body once more.

Find me, find me, find me

There was too much you wanted to say. How sorry you were, how much anger possessed your soul, how nothingness was threatening to swallow your entirety, how desperate you wanted him to devour you whole before the poison within you did. How much you wanted him to find you‒ the real you‒ buried deep below tattered flesh. But you could not find your voice, find your anger, find your pain, find your hope under the numbed silence that imprisoned you. You let out a few pathetic raspy breaths, as if to heave out any sort of sound from inside your body.

Malleus stepped towards you as if to approach a wild beast‒ surrendering his open hands into yours, cradling gently against his warmth despite the sharpness held in your icy fingers. Though in his eyes, pain and betrayal were ripe, the golden green within them still held onto the softness that gently opened its mouth to envelop you whole. Your hands began to tremble.

"Malleus I‒"

“(Name).”

Your lungs pricked at the iciness of that voice. The words that had just been threatening to boil over in your chest died in your throat, as a howling numbness rushed through your body like wildfire. You attempted to grasp the fleeting fragments of anything, anything resembling yourself to thaw your frozen tongue and pour out your heart to Malleus, but before you could even move, you felt your mother’s fury radiating onto your back, entangling itself in your lungs and throat like smog. You felt your body turn to cold, cold poison.

“(Name). Now. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

You didn’t register your body moving with surgical precision, the dullness in your eyes muting your vision into a senseless blur. Though you felt Malleus’ eyes on your back, you feared that if you turned to look once more, you would long for it so much it would shatter you. The thin thread that Malleus could follow to your ghostly presence snapped‒ leaving in his outreached hand, the last remaining piece of you that remained “here”. Like a sputtering vein, the warmth from the thread left as quickly as it came. Malleus watched in terror as your body was slowly swallowed into the darkness of the mirror, before it disappeared completely.

The sky wailed a somber song, bellowing thunder with a heat so ferocious it could boil the roaring sea. Malleus clenched that fire, devouring it through the gaping cavity your absence left in him, painfully deciding to nurse it until he found you once more.

——————————————————

“What in savior’s name were you doing with that wretched creature?! You better repent for poisoning yourself with such filthy animals‒ otherwise you’re going to return with them to your disgusting origins.”

You “felt” your body being thrown into the prayer room, the darkness pouring into every crevice as usual. The scalp on your head was being stretched, pulled from the tuffs of hair clutched in your mother’s grasp. However, you did not truly feel any of it, you were a mere spectator to the abuse being taken out onto your body, far away from the moment of pain.

“You wretched child. You brought this onto yourself. Now pray. Repent. Atone for your disguising body and spirit. Cleanse yourself in this darkness.” She forced your hands into an empty prayer, shoving your face onto the ground in front of your knees. When you complied, your body soft as a rag doll against her talons, she seemed satisfied, throwing your head out of her grasp and slamming the door shut to envelop you in complete darkness. You held your hands together, feeling the heat writhing under your skin slowly gushing from your body, replaced with chilled poison that ran like an icy river through your veins.

Once the warmth left your body, you felt the darkness melting into your body, devouring it. You could not imagine what body parts were attached to what, or how your body was oriented. Like the people in your lives, it ruptured pieces of you off, before consuming every fiber, every nerve, every cell of your body, taking it into its own. The darkness held no smells, no feeling, no color, no sound‒ nothing to tether your body onto, so you thawed, liquid smooth, vanishing into nothingness. You begged for anything to hold you, touch you, love you, color you‒ even if it was through the sharp jaws of eternal, unyielding darkness. To be held, to be touched, to be loved, to be colored, to be devoured‒ you would willingly cleave your body into a million pieces to make it easier to swallow, and digest the toxins within. But before you could fully break yourself apart‒ a weight in your pocket made your body snap back into one. Unfolding your hands, you felt around the cloth on your body to see what it was.

Cold metal, delicate grooves, plastic. You held your nose up to it, pressing it into your cheek to huddle against its warmth. It reminds you of smoldering fire, honeyed sunlight, the smell of spring rain. The little heat left transferring into the cold metal, melting into your hands. It reminds you of him, his warmth, his kindness, the softness beating underneath his flesh, his open hands‒ hands that do not hurt you, hands that clasp your shattering body to press it together again, letting you mold against his touch. You miss that. You miss him. The longing was more pointed this time, and instead of an ache that blistered your entire body, you felt a thorn thrust itself into the center of your heart, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Yearning no longer for something you could not recognize, and instead hungry for what you have touched but could not hold. If you could carve your chest open like livestock, reaching inside the meat to grasp that infants wail, you would. If you could roar freely, sinking this entire earth into the ground, and melting it within your raging core‒ you would. But all that could escape from your lips was a trembling, simmering cry, as quiet as the darkness that devoured.

——————————————————

“Malleus, you need to eat. Your eyes are starting to sink into your skull.” Lilia scrapped a cold plate of food with a flick of his wrist, before bringing in a new steaming tray.

“I’m fine.”

“Malleus.”

Malleus did not lift his head from his lap, rubbing hisfinger continuously over the detailed metal hanging from the plastic device. Though the smell of rumbling thunder and earthy rain permeated the walls of the castle from the weeks it had remained, he could still smell the metallic twinge from the charm, and the ghostly whiff of turpentine and old books he always smelled on you. The door creaked open again, and he felt the vibration of Lilia’s heels clacking away from him, out the door. He let out a sigh a relief, enveloping himself in the darkness created in his embrace, holding the warmed metal close to his face.

“Malleus, my dear.”

He looked up at the sound of his grandmother’s voice. She stood at the foot of his bed, smiling.

“I can’t say I'm pleased with you abandoning your duties, even if it is your winter break. What has gotten you so low?” She conjured a cup of warm spiced cider, cupping Mallus’ palms around it with her hands.

Above the shame he felt from disregarding his responsibilities as heir, he felt the beating ache in his heart grow once more. He struggled to find the words, to explain his tremendous loss, swelling anger, the bitter yearning. He swore you had taken part of his heart, because the throbbing he felt was too extensive, too cosmic for his heart that seemed to grow smaller and smaller the more he caught the scent of sunlight and old words.

“Someone precious was taken from me.” He finally said.

His grandmother rubbed his shoulder. “They are still precious to you?”

“Of course, I could not forget that even in the face of eternity.”

She flashed a knowing smile. “Then, are you willing to find them again? Even if it may consume you?”

He paused. Find you, again? Could he, after how far, how distant you felt from him? He looked at the moon. Though it had been shrouded in a seething storm, it stretched its brilliant glow through the window, onto his ski, warming it. What ecstasy it would be to be utterly devoured in it. He pressed the fluttering pulse of his thumb against the metal, melting it the warmth that twitched under his tender flesh.

“I will find them again, and again. Even if it may consume me, they’ll find me too.”

“Then you do what it takes to do that, my dear. Love is finding eachother over and over again, expanding eachother in yourselves. You will feel this pain again, no matter your power and what you control. So keep it precious near your heart. It guides you towards love, always."

"Thank you, grandmother, thank you." He sipped the spiced cider, feeling its warmth that spread through his body like the moonlight.

"Of course my dear. Now, rest. Love is no easy journey."

——————————————————

Notes:

Heyo sorry again for the short chapter. I will be making it up in the next chapter I think, which might be the last? Or I’ll divide it into two. EIther way I apologize in advance for the time it will take because I am bad at happy endings/don’t consume happy media but if I don’t make this a happy ending I will literally fucking explode and I will take you all down with me

Also have a sneak peak for the next work I will be coming out soon :)

Also not sure if Malleus was OOC in this‒ but I do feel like if and when he experiences his first heartbreak he would sort of act like an angsty teenage girl lol. Mostly because he puts distance between those who are able to leave him too quickly since his concept of time is a lot different than humans as well as his status as this sort of “untouchable monster”. His relationships with people follow an all or nothing nature, in that if he isn’t able to see them to their death, he isn’t really satisfied‒ perhaps because that is the one thing that he thinks is more powerful than he is. But when people willingly, or because of extraneous circumstances, leave his life‒ he’s a bit baffled, because that’s usually not how things end. I think partially it is because he always has the upper hand (control) due to the powers he has, but he’s also been protected and protects himself from endings like these by maintaining distance from people through his constructed image of control and power, because he knows deep inside it is unavoidable. But when he’s actually contented with it, he kinda stops functioning (which is why I think a lot of people are theorizing of his overblot in this new chapter where Lilia is getting ready to leave NRC) and throws a tantrum lol.

Also kinda funny to imagine Lilia going up to the queen like "please take care of this. He's so emo."

I know the "love is no easy journey" thing is sooooo cheesy but idk I feel like it fits Malleus' arc

[josouhenshin]

Day 2

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Welcome back, girls. Last time, Shinobu moved in with his long-time friend Mizuki, and found out that he had taken up crossdressing. With suspiciously little prodding, Shinobu also agreed to give it a shot, and they went clothes shopping. However, Shinobu got spooked before they could finish and they had to go home.

This time, we’re going to get Shinobu some girl underwear. As Mizuho said, the josou lifestyle starts with the underwear!

...That does bring me to a bit of a conundrum though, with a story like this there’s necessarily going to be a lot of fuzziness around things like names and genders and identities, so hopefully I can narrate things in a way that doesn’t get too convoluted. Although depending on how things go in the story there’s pretty good odds that I’ll end up prioritizing girl mode eventually. Anyway. 

“Okay, today for sure we’re gonna go shopping for underwear!” Mizuho begins excitedly. Notably, the text box here is still identifying her as Mizuki, but...

I mean she went through all the trouble of picking out a girl name, it’d be a shame not to use it yknow? And we wouldn’t want anyone around to overhear, right?

Mizuho asks Shinobu whether she wants to go in girl mode or boy mode. The game gives us a quick tutorial about the map screen- basically we have this option at the start of each day, and different activities and scenes will be available depending on which gender we’re going with.

If we want to visit a point of interest in girl mode, which I certainly do, we have to hit the “get changed” button. This brings us to...

...The dress-up mode screen. It’s telling us to press the crossdressing button. 

In the top left we have our base stats, which I don’t fully understand the uses of yet, our cash on hand, and our heart rate. It looks like there’s some inventory slots or something there too, but Shinobu is not currently making use of their convenient and deep men’s pants pockets. There’s also the heart rate meter, which will start gradually ticking up once we hit the crossdressing button. Per the original twitter thread, it sounds like in the first game the amount of things you can do in a day is limited by how stressed out the protagonist is, so I assume that holds true here too. 

Below that, we have our current loadout. There’s space for a couple layers of tops and bottoms, and other types of equippables if you scroll down. Currently we’re wearing the men’s sweatshirt, men’s pants, men’s sneakers, and “your own hair” in the wig spot. I’ve already expressed my thoughts about this outfit. 

Along the bottom we have inventory tabs for (left to right) care items, makeup, underwear and camisoles, crossdressing goods, stockings, shoes, western clothes, accessories, and wigs. 

We don’t have any new stuff to equip from here, so let’s just hit the button and head out. 

Shina lacks confidence in her outfit, and locks up on the way out the door. Mizuho can tell that she’s nervous, and tries to encourage her to go out. However, Shina is still frozen, and she starts getting impatient. 

Shina reflects that just a bit ago, she had no connection at all to the world of crossdressing, but, well, here she is about to go outside in girl clothes. “Is this really okay?” she wonders. She worries, with a flat chest, slapdash makeup, and an unnatural bulge in her lower quarters what people around her will think when they see her. She starts trying to explain herself, but:

“Don’t say ‘boku,’ it’s ‘atashi,’ remember?”

Shina starts apologizing. “Just like I thought, it’s impossible,” she says, “I’m so stressed out my legs won’t move.”

Mizuho grumbles in disappointment, and Shina says she’ll swap back to boy mode. She does so, and they head out. 

At the store, Shinobu marvels at how many kinds of women’s underwear there are. Mizuho recommends going with something basic to start with, but the main thing is that Shinobu like it. 

There’s another path to this point we could’ve taken, one which I’m not going to consider canonical to the playthrough, where Shinobu decides to go shopping in boy mode from the beginning. Instead of having a panic attack at the door, he asks Mizuho to pretend to be a couple again, and they head out. Mizuho seems very happy about this, but when they get there she does tease him about it. From there everything seems to proceed the same way. 

They’re back home again. Shinobu reports that in the end he couldn’t decide what to get, so Mizuho picked something out for her again. Thanks Mizuho. 

“Okay, how about trying them on and showing me?”

Shinobu is astonished at this request. He asks Mizuho not to look while he’s changing. Again, this is another case where it’s unclear the extent to which Shinobu understands that he’s being flirted with. I do also think that it’s really funny that Mizuho establishes an ironclad rule of no peeking and then immediately wants to see Shinobu change.

In any case, Shina tries on the new underwear. It’s very soft. She sticks her legs through.

“I- it feels good...”

She muses that women are always wearing stuff like this. She thinks it could be habit-forming. 

Mizuho wants to see, and catches Shina by surprise. 

“Wow! Cute, isn’t it!” she remarks, “and that reaction was totally girly, huh?”

Mizuho reminds us again that underwear is foundational to crossdressing. So always wear it. 

“Shinobu, you kinda got a bulge in an odd place, don’t you!” She teases. 

“Huh? Oh, that’s uh,” Shina stammers.

“Did you start feeling weird?” she asks, pointedly, “That’s a feeling I understand, though.”

Shina asks her not to look again. 

“Girls definitely don't have anything like that there, you know~!”

Shina complains that she’s being bullied. She turns around and tries to distract herself and settle things down. 

She does this by reciting a song about multiplication tables. “Let’s see, 2 and 2 is 4, 2 and 3 is 6, how did ‘let’s make a good country’ go again..?” I believe it’s the title of a heian era poem, but the intertextuality of this gag is already going way over my head. Shina also worries that since the underwear is kinda small if she’s not careful it’ll end up sliding out. 

Is now a good time to point out that Mizuho has also been letting it rock this whole time anyway? 

From here things seem to open up a bit more, and we’ll have a few points of interest to choose from on the map screen each day. I’m not sure exactly what the flow of things is going to be, but for now things seem pretty low stakes, so I’m open to suggestions. 

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[ghastlybin]

Im deprived of sweet jiu, any fic youd wanna write?🫠 maybeeeee hmmm… ive always though a fic about a soldier and a nurse would be cute!

Hiya, first off, I'd like to apologize for being so slow with this and ily also OKAY let's gooooooo

▾

▾ Soldier! GN Reader ▾ Nurse! Minji ▾ World War 2 setting ▾ gunfire, explosions, yk… War stuff. ▾ Gunshot related injury ▾ Reader and Minji are already a couple btw ▾ stitches mentions ▾ Fluff ▾ some angst but that’s cause it’s the war ▾ Reader has plot armor. ▾ So does Minji. This is not that kind of fic lolol ▾ I tried to make it cute, considering ▾

▾

W.C▾ 1.8k

“War has not been kind to you.”

What a strange phrase, how it seemed to personify the war.

Speaking on technicalities, the war was a person. One mass of people, dead or alive.

Whether they were fighting back or running to cover.

The innocent and the guilty.

Even the planes over head, the guns blazing through at every hour of the day, and the explosions that cost many lives— All made up war.

If war was a person, it for sure isn’t kind. It takes what it wants, no matter the cost, and leaves the stench of death and decay in its wake.

War was a monster and taming it claimed billions of lives.

You have always been a fighter. A great one, at that. You were well respected among the other soldiers. But there was only one person you cared to impress.

Minji.

She helped out as a field nurse, who had volunteered to help the wounded soldiers during the war. You had met her before you left for the front lines, and both of you had quickly fallen in love.

“I will return to you. Please do the same.”

“I promise.”

Her words echoed in your mind every time you were out in active duty, hoping to make it through alive and uninjured so that you could keep your promise. But the bullets and explosions made your chances of getting out alive very slim.

You worried Minji would be out on the field at the wrong time and end up getting hurt before you could see each other again.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, you began to wonder if the last time you last saw Minji, was really the last time.

Another day out in action, only this time it was worse — Somehow. It happened while moving through a village when your unit was ambushed.

Everyone fought back fiercely, not accepting defeat. You dodged bullets running from cover to cover and hoping that this would end.

Many of your fellow soldiers had fallen in battle, and it was only a matter of time before you were struck by a bullet too. It happened when you went to help your fallen ally.

The force knocked you down and within seconds of being on the ground, you could feel the stinging, burning sensation growing more intense while the chaos ensued around you.

You could feel yourself being dragged behind cover, grateful to whoever it was, but there was only one person on your mind.

Minji. You hoped you hadn’t completely broken your promise to her. There was one way to keep your promise though; Don’t die.

You closed your eyes despite your allies telling you not to. But it was the only way for you to focus and drown everything out. Eventually, the gunfire ceased, and it didn’t take long for you to realize that your unit had successfully pushed back the enemy.

“Medic! We need a medic over here!”

You were bleeding too much to still be conscious, but you had to hold on just a little longer. When you opened your eyes again, you could see the familiar figure of a woman running towards you.

"Y/N, stay with me. You can’t give up now," Minji said, her voice trembling. "We need to get you to a field hospital."

Minji began to bandage your wound and applied pressure to stop the bleeding for the time being. You watched her work through blurry vision, amazed by how gentle she handled you while still being quick, knowing you were hanging on by a thread.

“Minji…” You weakly mumbled, feeling your eyes heavy with exhaustion as the pain spiked throughout your body in pulsating rhythms.

“Yes? What is it?” You could hear the panic in her voice, and you wanted to tell her that you trust her with your life. That you felt calmer now that she was there to help you.

You looked into her eyes and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N," she said. It was only seconds after she tightened the bandage that she noticed you were now unconscious.

―

“You’re healing pretty quickly.” Minji entered the room with a tray of food. You sat up, still sore where you had been shot.

“I don’t feel like I am.” You smiled to her as she set the tray down on your lap.

Minji took the liberty of sitting at the foot of your bed while you ate. She pondered to herself about the past few weeks you’ve been in the hospital.

“I thought I lost you.” Minji spoke up. She looked over at you and you could see tears brimming her eyes. You’ve known her since before the war and you’ve loved her ever since. There was no way you’d let the war tear you two away from each other.

“I thought I was lost too.”

Minji wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek. “Ah. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry… Not in front of you. Not now.”

You set your tray aside and inched closer to her without ripping out the stitches holding your skin together.

"It's okay to cry. Sometimes we just need to let it all out." You assured her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Minji burst into tears upon your initiation. You wrapped both of your arms around her as she turned into a sobbing mess on the end of your hospital bed.

It lasted about a few minutes, but you held her for the entire duration.

She sniffled, leaning into your hold. “I’m sorry, I’m acting like I was the one that got shot.”

“Oh yeah, our bullet wound is healing quickly.”

Minji cracked a smile, pulling away from you grasp and nudging you. “Shut up.”

You laughed, hovering your hand over your sutured, feeling a stinging pain when you laughed. Minji noticed and lifted your shirt just enough to check the sutures on your abdomen.

After a quick examination of your sutures, she stood up to gather her supplies.

“Your stitches must’ve pulled when you laughed. But we can actually remove them now— Luckily, you aren’t bleeding.” Minji disclosed as she set up a tray in preparation of removing you’re stitches.

You looked down at your stomach, seeing your wound that would surely leave a scar. A permanent reminder that you almost died.

Or a permanent reminder that you survived what most don’t.

You watched Minji sterilize the surgical scissors and tweezers in one of the containers of boiling water that had been prepared and preserved to be at the ready for easy access for the nurses throughout the day.

“Am I really getting these out?”

Minji took the scissors and tweezers out, drying them with a clean paper towel. She glanced at you while simultaneously opening the pack of cotton swabs.

“Disappointed?”

“Nope. Just seems early.”

“It’s been five weeks.” Minji chuckled, pouring a bit of rubbing alcohol onto a cotton swab to wipe down the tips of the scissors and tweezers.

“Time sure did fly, huh…”

Minji used a ladle to scoop a small amount of the boiling water into a cup, where she placed a few ice cubes inside to cool down the water. While the water cooled to a warm temperature, she set a bottle of antibacterial soap beside it as she used a spoon to scoop out the ice cubes.

“Are you ready? I’m about to clean it.” She warned, mixing a bit of the soap into the water, waiting for your ‘okay’.

“By all means.”

Minji smiled, pouring the soapy water onto a rag, careful not to spill everywhere. She pressed the warmed, soapy rag against your stitches, cleaning the area. You admired her concentrated expression as she grabbed a dry rag, drying the area.

“Again, are you ready?”

“Is it going to hurt?” You asked, to which Minji shook her head.

“It’s not supposed to. But please tell me if it does.” Minji met your eyes, sternly.

“Yes ma’am.”

She smirked, stifling back a laugh as she poured rubbing alcohol onto a new cotton swab, wiping down the area next.

Minji began to snip and pull up the sutures with the tweezers, followed by snipping each loop with the scissors. Minji carefully pulled each stitch out and surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought. A slight stinging, but nothing painful.

After each stitch was removed, Minji used yet another rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton swab to clean the area again before dabbing antibiotic ointment over the wound area.

“And these,” she began to apply adhesive strips over where the stitches once were, “are just in case.”

“Thank you… That relieved some of the stinging.”

Minji smiled in relief, “good. Just try to be careful when you move. Getting them is more painful than taking them out.”

“Oh yeah. I will remember this next time I’m about to get shot.” You joked. Luckily, Minji knew you and your joke was able to land.

"You're safe now. I won't let anything hurt you, I promise."

“You’re my hero.” You smiled at her.

Minji let out at small laugh, nudging you. Judging by her reaction, she must’ve thought you were joking. Maybe you sounded sarcastic in your speech.

But you meant it.

If she hadn’t gotten to you as fast as she did after you were shot, you wouldn’t be alive to witness her taking your stitches out or even talk to her after so long of active duty during the war.

No. You were sure you wouldn’t be alive without her.

“I was serious,” you watched her clean up her supplies. “You saved me.”

Minji looked over at you, her eyes glistening in the sunlight that peeked through into the room.

She let out a soft sigh, walking back over to you, pressing her lips against your forehead.

“It wasn’t just me.”

“But it was just you who stopped the bleeding back at the ambush site. That saved my life just in time for me to undergo surgery.” You wanted her to give herself some credit. Even if she wasn’t the surgeon that removed the bullet fragments from your abdomen, she was the nurse that got you to the hospital and helped you recover after surgery.

“You were there for me when I couldn’t move around.” You added. She sat beside you, listening to you praise her.

“I love you, Y/N. Of course I was going to stay by your side.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you leaned forward, pressing your lips against hers. As you melted against her lips, you were grateful you survived.

Grateful that she never left your side.

"I love you, Minji," you said, your voice barely above a whisper when you pulled away, ending the kiss.

"I love you too, Y/N," Minji replied, smiling at you sweetly. "Always have."

[khaleesiofthegreatdairystate]

you seem pretty cool, and I got hate for saying these things, but you don't seem hateful. You seem nice, so I just wanted to share my non hateful opinions/stuff I'm confused on and get your feedback

1. I am all for Daenerys taking back the iron throne, but I'm also a little confused cause Daenerys can't get have kids cause of the blood curse so Daenerys cant birth her heir/heirs so if she decides to have a heir/heirs who is she going to choose to be her heir/heirs but I kinda like the idea that if Daenerys gets the iron throne and after she dies, Drogon burns the throne (it took a dragons fire to make it and it'll take a dragons fire to melt it) and then westreos goes back to how it was before Aegon the Conqueror or the kingdoms vote who they want as a king/queen since they've been under one ruler for so long

2. I get why people don't talk bad about rhaeger but I also don't understand why no one talks bad about Rhaegar to Daenerys and tells her what Rhaegar did, cause him kidnapping lyanna is the reason why Robert decided to rebel in the first place with the help of some of the other kingdoms (who were tired of the targaryens which I honestly understand)

Well, I'm a highly pragmatic person who isn't quick to anger, especially from strangers online. You can ask me anything and I'll answer the best of my ability without being an ass about it.

Many fans have guessed that Daenerys is not actually barren or will not be barren for the whole series. You can do some googling to find people's opinions on all of that. Here's a reddit thread of people talking about it: https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/15dy6b5/is_daenerys_barren_spoilers_extended/?rdt=38014. There's also a lot of essays here on tumblr.

The fact that a monarchy is a really flawed system of government isn't a new idea. Just because someone was born into the job doesn't mean that they'll be any good at it. English history is full of horrible kings. Richard II was deposed for a reason, for example. No one studies Henry VIII because he was a good person who did wonderful things for his people. Especially because he had his armies slaughter a bunch of them. King John is the archetypal "bad" king. So yeah, monarchies suck.

I'm not sure each kingdom governing itself would be all that much better. I can understand why people would think it would but you still have a monarchy, leaving the smallfolk and lesser lords, for that matter, to be at the whims of a person who is stupid, cruel, or both. I think it would be great if Daenerys developed some version of parliament where people can be represented and also voice their concerns to the ruler and the Small Council in an official way.

Will that happen? Stay tuned.

A lot of people hate Rhaegar, actually. I mean, I do. How he treated Elia and their children is pretty unforgivable. I mean he just didn't fucking care or at least he acted that way. People who are fans of Daenerys are not Ride or Die to all the Targaryens. While Rhaegar's actions might be explainable, as in he did it for prophecy, that doesn't make them forgivable. Also Lyanna was not even 16 when he knocked her up and left her to be looked after no one but guards in Dorne. Stabler and Benson would have been all over that situation :).

You can ask any questions you want.