#will shape this story bc you will be disappointed

[milimeters-morales]

chapter 8 of my transfem miles fic <3

Chap 1 / Chap 2 / Chap 3 / Chap 4 / Chap 5 / Chap 6 / Chap 7 / Chap 9

Wordcount: 4k+

Warnings: Nothing graphic, but some bones get broken

“I’m trying to say that even if you say it’s fine, and that you did it on your own, you shouldn’t have had to.”

Okay, he gets that.

“And that simply doing something doesn’t get rid of your fear. Which, is a reasonable one! I don’t want you to think I think it’s crazy or something.”

Miles starts to fiddle with his earrings as he listens.

“I’m just saying sorry for not trying to figure it out… further. Like, more detailed and planned out, before you came out to your brother and Peter again.”

“Ganke, it’s—“

“Don’t tell me it’s okay, please,” Ganke sighs, twirling his pen, “I’m fine with you thinking that, but really think about what I’m saying, too.”

Miles lays back on his bed with his arms folded under his head. Staring at the ceiling really hard while he thinks certainly doesn’t help in the thought process, but it does feel like it.

So Ganke is… upset isn’t the word. He’s a bit guilty, maybe, that Miles came out on his own, despite everything being fine. 

…He wishes Uncle Aaron were here. He’d know exactly what to say to make Ganke feel better.

But Uncle Aaron isn’t here, so he’s going to have to man up and figure this out on his own.

And it should be easy, he become Ganke’s best friend before becoming his boyfriend! But it still feels like he’s missing something.

The bed dips, and Ganke rests his head on Miles’s chest, slightly curling into him. His body is warm, and Miles hooks their ankles together. A sense of calm washes over him as he focuses on the other boy’s heartbeat, and he starts breathing in sync. 

He can’t fall asleep. But man, he wants to soooo bad right now.

Maybe this entire situation is easy to understand, and Miles is the one just not getting it, like how he is with some unspoken rules in the world. Or maybe, it’s a “journey, not destination” type of thing he isn’t seeing. Sure, it would’ve been really nice if Ganke was there, but Miles isn’t sure that would’ve helped that much. He’d have to be extra careful jumping dimensions with a normal human with him, not to mention if the coming out went super bad.

If Ganke got hurt in any type of way on his watch, he’d never be able to forgive himself. Ganke would never trust him again, and they’d drift apart…

Ugh. Stop thinking about that. It turned out fine, Morales.

Maybe it isn’t about guilt. Maybe it’s like… how he can lift gigantic things by himself, but it is appreciated and a bit easier when other spider-people help out. They don’t need to, but that didn’t matter to them. 

He wasn’t ready to come out. He still doesn’t feel ready to tell anyone else. Managing to actually do it, much less to three people (four if you count Peter’s friend, which for Miles’s sanity, he does not), was only because Ganke was getting fed up, and Miles promised to come out to one of those people anyway. 

It was a bit more bearable coming out to Hobie, but was that because Ganke was there, or because Hobie was Hobie? 

Removing a hand from under his head, he places it on top of Ganke’s.  

Maybe he should just ask Hobie. They could ask him, together, even.

“Ganke, hey. Are you asleep?”

A light snore answers him.

Okay, maybe they can ask him later.

____

Having super-senses is as much a blessing as it is one of the worst curses in the world. 

The lady thanks him profusely, patting his shoulders as he lets her down from his hold.

Her perfume is overwhelming. It wasn’t a bad smell, but man, did she have to spray so much this morning?

“A good man, a good man,” she mutters afterwards, the shock still in her system.

“Here ma’am, there’s a few ambulances over there, they’ll take great care of you,” he gently tells her, “I have to go.”

“Yes you do, you’ve got to fight, good man… good man…”

Anyway, he’s here, fighting some dude with too much strength and not enough brains to realize he was also hurting himself in the process. He was yelling something about being followed, but it’s by nothing that Miles sees, so maybe it’s another invisible enemy just biding its time or something. Or the guy’s lost it.

The bulging muscles look grotesque, reminding Miles of zits that would pop from the slightest pressure. Eugh, gross. The guy, who he’s taken to calling Brick because come on, is barely protecting his modesty.

Oh he sounds old when he says that. 

The guy’s barely covering himself with some torn black briefs and black wrestling mask.

“Hey man! I don’t know what your deal is, but—“

He launches himself closer (which he really didn’t want to do, he doesn’t want to get close to this man at all), but Brick grabs a nearby truck and launches it at him. 

Without enough time to dodge, and the perfume smell lingering and making it hard to focus, Miles shouts in pain as the truck hits him full force, the crack of ribs and something on his face made him panic for a second, the pain not hitting him yet (hopefully it won’t be too bad). He quickly rights himself midair, webbing the truck to the ground as he continues to go flying into a wall. 

“Shit,” he wheezes out as he smacks into the hard brick and falls down to his knees. 

His parents are gonna kill him if he makes any of this worse.

Quickly standing up, he swings back over to Brick, landing on his back as the man bends over to lift up part of the sidewalk.

“Hey man, that hurt! Talk to me! What’s going on?” He snaps his fingers near the man’s ear, swiftly webbing his arms and legs to the ground. 

Not like it’s gonna do much , he thinks.

He feels something warm spreading all over his face as he stands up, and wonders if he should just avoid going home for a few extra hours. Give everything some extra time to heal before he freaks his mom and dad out…

“They’re after me!” Brick yells, ripping his arms free from the webbing and trying to swat Miles away with a large hand. 

He simply scuttles to a different part of Brick’s back-- why hasn’t that perfume faded yet?!

“Who?!” Miles shouts back.

“Them!” 

Thanks, man.

Miles huffs and webs the man again, not sure if he should paralyze him with his venom. Brick already looks really… unhealthy, his heart is for sure working overtime, and though Miles can (usually) control the amount of venom he uses, it seemed too risky.

Maybe he should just play along? He thinks he’s read that somewhere.

“Okay man, I’ll help you!” Miles pats Brick’s back, feeling for a heartbeat. Yeah, way too fast to be healthy. 

Did this guy take something that mutated him this badly? Like, super-steroids? Steroids on steroids?

“You can’t!” Brick shouts, ripping free again with a strange sob-yell, and starting to run towards another truck.

“Oh no you don’t,” Miles mutters, hopping off and grabbing Brick’s wrists before sticking his feet to the ground. “I can help! I’m super good at this!”

“Let me go!” Brick shrieks, trying his best to free himself from Miles’s grip. For a second, Miles is worried Brick will start ripping skin, but he tries to kick Miles square in the chest.

“Hey, that’s not nice!” Miles shouts, adding a bit of whininess to his voice, releasing Brick and jumping on top of the man’s foot to flip back onto his back. “Why don’t you tell me what their plan is?”

“They know I stole from them! Look at me!”

Okay, so Brick definitely took something. Miles feels pretty bad for calling him dumb earlier… how’s he supposed to proceed? The perfume still lingering makes it hard to focus, but he knows three basic things that might help. One: make sure Brick is as safe as possible. Two: get him water. Three: make sure he gets medical attention.

“I see you man, you’re huge,” Miles tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “how’d this even happen?”

Brick growls and goes to swat Miles again, but he dodges-- a bit too slow, because the mighty hand clips him on the shoulder, jostling him almost off of Brick’s back.

“I gotta know what happened, man! Do you have a name?” Miles asks, righting himself on the man’s back. 

Brick starts to run down the street again, away from approaching police sirens.

Great , Miles thinks sarcastically, shoulders drooping.

“Are the cops the ones after you?” He asks Brick, trying to hold on with his wavering vision and strength. “I can get them to leave you alone for a bit,” he says, not fully knowing if he actually can. He’ll try though.

“No! The-- Those scientists, they’re after me!” Brick stumbles over a pothole, sending Miles tumbling over onto the pavement. Ugh. There’s two of everything now. Is he losing too much blood? No, right? Nosebleeds don’t bleed that much for someone like him, he’s almost 100% sure of that.

Brick quickly grabs his arm, hand dwarfing the limb, and puts him back on his back as he runs down the street. The sudden movement makes Miles groan, but he pushes on. Brick’s about to go into spaces filled with people, and that perfume smell is starting to drive Miles mad.

“I have a scientist after me too, she hates me. Well, hated. I defeated her, but she might come back,” Miles tells him. “I might be able to help you get rid of those scientists, too!” He says, making his eyes wide and pointing in the air..

“Really?” Brick asks him, slowing down. Good.

“I promise to try! But we have to get somewhere away from all these people, and get you back to normal,” Miles says, taking a deep, shaky breath. His shoulder twitches as he waits for Brick to come to a complete stop.

Oh, thank god. 

Brick immediately jumps over twenty stories into the air, landing on the roof of a building. 

Miles feels ready to pass out. He thinks he did, for a few seconds.

“Okay… okay okay okay…” Miles repeats to himself a few times, slipping off of Brick’s back and onto the roof. “Alright, so just tell me exactly what happened.”

There’s definitely police gathering at the bottom of whatever building this is, so he has to be quick without freaking this guy out, and without messing up from being too disorientated. Fucking perfume.

“You won’t get me captured?” Brick asks, distrust lacing his tone. 

Miles takes a moment before responding. Captured… he probably means by the cops and the scientists. He won’t get Brick arrested, no, and he’ll try his best to make sure the man gets medical attention and adequate care, but he can’t prevent the cops from arresting him. He can delay it, but they could find Brick again, and arrest him for things that people have no doubt already recorded. 

The scientists, if they’re real, however… 

The man’s skin is severely flushed, his eyes are red, his muscles are unhealthily huge, and he’s convinced (reasonably so) that there are scientists after him because he stole from them. 

Miles feels so lost.

Brick starts to look uncomfortable, and Miles wonders if he’s finally going to explode, but then the man starts glitching. 

Miles gasps and backs up, mind racing.

Brick shouldn’t be glitching. Nothing should be glitching! Rifts that swallow people up shouldn’t even be happening anymore!

Quickly calling Peter-- no, Hobie, quickly calling Hobie, Miles frantically explains the situation with Brick currently screaming in pain as his body is contorted beyond belief in a matter of seconds before returning to normal like nothing happened, leaving him to collapse into unconsciousness.

“-Miles, Miles! Stop talking, I’m on my way with a stabilizer, stay with ‘im.”

A portal opens, a guitar riff momentarily playing over the wailing of police sirens, and Hobie lands next to Miles, carrying a clunky looking multi-colored bead bracelet. It kind of looked straight out of a kids toy section, but gave off a faint hum. Hobie quickly unclasps the bracelet somehow, and wraps it around Brick’s wrist, reconnecting it together with an almost inaudible click.

“Okay, what happened?” Hobie asks, gesturing to the unconscious man on the ground as he turns to Miles.

“I don’t know! He was freaking out, throwing stuff and hurting himself in the street, and I tried to calm him down so he jumped up here with me, but then he just started glitching! That’s not supposed to happen! We fixed-- that’s the entire-- it’s done--”

Hobie holds his hands up, slowly getting closer and finally placing them on Miles’s shoulders. “Hey, slow down. Take some deep breaths for me, yeah?”

Yeah, okay, he can do that. He can totally do that. If only it didn’t start sending sharp spikes of pain through his chest with each inhale. The adrenaline must be wearing off…

“I’m-- I think some of my ribs are messed up,” he admits, fighting the urge to cough. Something warm runs down the back of his throat, and he wants to thrash his head around at the feeling.

“Mm,” Hobie’s hands are gone in an instant, “we’ll get you home. I’ll call Gwen, she can handle this fella, no sweat.”

Miles feels the pain hitting him all at once. His nose is definitely broken, and now his shoulder hurts like hell in addition to the pain spreading from his chest to his entire torso. And that stupid perfume is still lingering to him like some skunk decided to get different and fancy. His head might explode in the next 30 seconds. 

“Wait, I don’t think he should be alone,” Miles says, “he took some drug, and he said some scientists are after him-- he might be right. I mean, I don’t know what world he’s from, but maybe we should just…”

Hobie looks back at Brick, and then back at Miles, “Don’t worry, he’s gonna be in good hands. We’re getting Margo on it too, see what’s going on, get him some real help-- he’ll be right as rain before you know it.” His lenses squint happily, “you did good.”

Gwen lands gracefully on the roof from her own portal, giving Miles and Hobie an excited wave. “So, what’s wrong?”

Miles can’t speak. It hurts so much. With each second that passes, everything becomes harder to understand and do.

Hobie fortunately speaks up for him. “This guy’s from another dimension, might be being hunted for taking a drug that made ‘im like this. Got the stabilizer on ‘im, tell Margo and get to a hospital.”

Miles notices his accent is practically unnoticeable right now. Isn’t that strange? 

“Huh, thought those were supposed to stop?” She asks as she gently picks up Brick. “Don’t worry Miles, it’ll be okay.” Her lenses squint happily, and then she’s gone.

His head starts to droop down, so Hobie hurries to hold it in his hand.

God, these police sirens. The perfume. The iron taste in his mouth. Even his own suit. It’s all teaming up against him. “My nose,” Miles mumbles, not wanting to move his face much. It’s not like he had the energy to, even if he did want to.

“Alright, I’ll take you home. This is gonna hurt, m’sorry.”

“M’the one, should be ‘pologzing,” Miles mumbles as Hobie tries to pick him up as gently as possible. He was right, it hurts like a bitch. That’s all he really has the energy to describe it as. 

“No, don’t say that,” Hobie tells him, swinging off. There’s the vague sound of gasps from below, but Hobie continues as if nothing else in the world really deserves his attention. “You did the best you could. Anyone could see that.”

“‘Cept Miguel,” Miles mumbles bitterly.

“We don’t have to think about that tosser,” Hobie responds, “society’s done with, remember?”

Miles nods slowly. He doesn’t like to think about the society at all. But sometimes the bitterness and lingering anger just seeps out.

“Do you think you can turn invisible? Just for a minute,” Hobie hesitantly asks.

Hissing through his teeth, Miles makes himself disappear. 

“Great, you’re doing great, bruv. Just hold on for me?”

Miles nods again, letting his eyes close. 

Some minutes later, he feels Hobie land and hears a door opening. It creaks loudly, and Hobie curses quietly. 

Opening his eyes, he notices the familiar walls, and almost startles right out of the other boy’s arms when it hits him that he’s being taken home.

“Hobie, my parents are gonna lose it,” he gasps, “let’s just go back to yours--”

“Can’t mate. If your ma and pa try it, I’ll get us right out to Pav’s,” Hobie promises as they head down the flights of stairs and to his door. He knocks harshly with his boot, and Miles swears his heart freezes when his mom opens the door.

“Shoot,” he mumbles.

____

His mom is talking to him, and there’s a press of lips to his forehead, then silence. He doesn’t want to open his eyes.

“I’ll be fine… in a bit,” he breathes out. Honestly, he’s been Spider-Man for nearly two years now, he thought he would be way more used to the pain and able to push through it.

“Papá, you did push through,” his mom’s voice is close to his ear, and he feels a gentle pressure on his arm.

Yeah, but only because he didn’t feel the pain. When the pain hit, he was like a baby.

“You’re always gonna be my baby. No matter what you do.” Her voice is directly above him now, and there’s a dip in the bed by his head. He feels his mask being carefully pulled off, slightly grimacing at the cool air on the blood caked on his face. “No matter what,” she repeats.

“Countdown?” Hobie’s voice almost echoes in the room. It was so weird. 

Remembering Gwen’s fake countdown, Miles furrows his brows. “Jus’ do it,” he mumbles.

His mom holds his hand. He really is a baby.

The pain explodes across his face again, making his leg kick out harshly and move the entire bed a few centimeters, probably. Tears sting at his eyes, and he fights the urge to twist his head away by shaking in place. 

“You’re doing great, so great,” he feels a warm and wet towel gently dab around his mouth and cheeks, “let me help.”

“His ribs,” Hobie informs, sounding like he’s messing with some sort of clothes.

“Heal on… own,”

“We know,” his mom and Hobie say at the same time.

“A few days,” he sighs, feeling scolded.

“And lots of rest,” his mom must feel something wrong with the shoulder she’s caressing, because she’s telling Hobie to “give that here” and to fetch extra ice packs instead.

Toilet paper, or he assumes that’s what it is, is used to wipe up the watery-blood left behind and the blood that keeps managing to run down the sides of his face. 

Hobie comes back, placing small bags full of ice wrapped in towels on his chest, sides, shoulder, and nose.

“I’ll get the ibuprofen,” his mom says, patting his hair with a feather-light touch.

“Still pretty new for me,” Hobie tells him casually once she leaves for the bathroom. 

“Wha? The… ‘profen?”

“Yeah, was made around when I was born.”

“…S’crazy.”

“And, um, sorry ‘bout your forehead,” Hobie chuckles, not sounding that sorry at all. 

Miles forces his eyes open, slowly focusing on Hobie, who has a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. His eyelids look heavier than usual, those mismatched brown eyes scanning his face. 

“…What?”

Hobie simply wipes his pinkie across his bottom lip, leaving an almost-black purple stain on his finger. He wags it, and gently wipes it off on his forehead again. 

Oh, does he have lipstick on his forehead now? That’ll wash off easily, right?

“Yeah, should be gone with a good shower.”

His mom comes back in with a large bottle of ibuprofen tablets, a water bottle, a chair, and extra pillows from the couch. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you recovering in less than half the time it would usually take,” she tells Miles, opening the bottles for him. 

Hobie tries to wipe the lipstick mark off with the wet towel used to clean up his blood, but it just smears the mark even more. He grimaces and shrugs.

The sound of a portal opening way above them, probably on the roof, makes Hobie glance up. “That’s Gwenny.”

Sure enough, there’s a knocking at the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Hobie says before his mom even opens her mouth, quickly making his way out of the room.

Ugh. He’s not ready for his mom and Gwen to awkwardly interact again. Even if his mom has mostly accepted that Gwen was in a bad situation, and treated her kindly… you could just tell Gwen was waiting for the other shoe to drop every second. The stilted conversations and added confusion from dimensional differences makes it almost painful to watch them interact without anyone to intervene.

But it’s all got to start somewhere. Even their… rekindling, he guesses, was more painful and awkward than that.

Gwen quietly makes her way into the room, appearing next to his mom and handing her a dark blue bottle of something, and some square that crinkled .

“It’s one of Mrs. Parker’s fudge brownies. She used to make them for m—a lot. Like, a ton,” she hurriedly explains. “Um, Margo managed to get that Spider-Doctor dude to take a look at the guy you helped, but if you don’t wanna talk right now…?”

He really doesn’t. But he needs to know if Brick is okay.

“He should rest first,” his mom explained gently. 

“Is he… alright?” Miles asks, focusing his eyes again. The sunlight from his window was making him regret opening them in the first place. So bright.

And that fucking smell. That perfume clung to him like its life depended on it, and it was all he could smell. He couldn’t stand it. He needs to bathe and wash his hair immediately.

“Language, Miles,” his mom gently but sternly scolds him. “And I’ll wash your hair for you.”

He is such a baby.

“I don’t know, the doctor said he seemed seconds away from heart failure, but he was able to at least find out what dimension your guy was from. He don’t wanna send him back, but he did mention going there to find what drug he took. Maybe to reverse the effects?”

“When your father gets here, he’s going to freak out way more than me,” his mom points out, conveniently ignoring the fact that they freak out equally as bad anytime he shows up with severe injuries. “Gwen, can you get another pillow from the couch? Hobie, run the bath with warm water. It should be at a good temperature by the time these painkillers kick in.”

Ugghhhh.

____

One bath and one assisted hairwash later, Miles still smells like that damn perfume. Not nearly as much, thankfully, but he can still smell it all over him. Before they left, Gwen and Hobie made faces when he got out of the bathroom, so he knows they still smell it too. His mom assures him it’s fine, it’s barely even there, just like the lipstick still smeared on his forehead. 

“They’ll just think I did it,” she laughs, “I’ll get my makeup remover. Don’t move.”

He relaxes into the pillows propping him up on his bed, wishing he at least grabbed his sketchbook before he laid down. All he has is his phone, and that’s been vibrating with several text notifications from Ganke-- must’ve finally woken up-- and his dad.

Oh man, his dad. It must be a miracle that those painkillers also made him drowsy. He doesn’t want to have to have any serious conversations about Spider-Man stuff anymore.

His mom comes back and wipes the lipstick off of his forehead, having to use a bit of pressure. “Sorry,” she apologizes, “I didn’t know you and Hobie were so close.”

“I didn’t really expect it either,” he mumbles tiredly. Hobie was pretty physically affectionate with his friends, but a kiss? Last on the list of things Miles would think Hobie would do. Much less to him… he’d expect it more with Pavitr or Gwen, to be honest.

His mom hums, “You should talk to us about your friends more. They seem like they care a lot. Do they know Ganke?”

“Yeah,” he replies as he feels his eyelids get heavy again. He really shouldn’t be this tired, he’s sprung back from broken bones and concussions before, but the injuries, the overwhelming scent of perfume that must have been cursed, the bath, and the hair washing somehow did it. 

He should still be out there, it’s not even three. 

A yawn escapes him and makes him grimace at the faint pain in his face.

“I’ll tell your father to be quiet when he comes in,” she kisses his forehead and leaves the room, letting him slowly drift off to sleep. 

_____

Thanks to the enhanced metabolism he’s been wonderfully blessed with, the medication wears off quickly. He’s still tired though, so he doesn’t make any real effort to keep himself awake, opting to just hover in between fully alert and half-dead. Maybe this is all a very real-feeling dream anyway.

“Are you awake?” he hears his dad ask softly.

“No,” he mumbles.

“Alright,” his dad responds, followed by the sound of a closing door.

This happens a few times, and each time Miles is no more awake than the last.

“Is that perfume?” his dad asks during one visit.

Miles forgets how he responds to that the second it leaves his mouth, but his dad brushes a thumb over his forehead and leaves again.

Maybe the final visit, or the final visit Miles remembers, his dad actually sits on the edge of the bed and removes the ice packs.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one day… I don’t think I’ll ever be alright with it. This. I can’t…”

And Miles remembers moving his hand, to do something, maybe offer a comforting pat on the back because he’s absolutely awful when it comes to this, but his dad catches his hand and holds it.

“You’re killing me here,” a quiet, sad laugh comes from his dad. 

Please don’t cry, Dad. He doesn’t know how to handle that.

“You’re our baby.”

Please don’t cry. 

“Aw, Miles, don’t cry-- look, I’ll get new ice for these, you don’t need to cry.”

A/N: I only did a few corrections and I think I missed some things, do not point them out please 😭 i should have posted this ages ago! also, 'im and 'em are not being used interchangeably, in case anyone thought they were. apparently past me thought this chap was rushed at the end, but i don't see what he meant? if you noticed that don't point it out either though thank you so mash

[meanbossart]

I realize this is a weirdly specific question, but what was DU Drow’s experience like first waking up on the Nautiloid/on the beach?

Like, was he wearing Bhaalist stuff when he woke up then? If he was, did he ditch it right away or did he just leave it on until he found gear in better shape or maybe just didn’t want to associate with that symbolism/organization anymore? Like what was the thought process for him there, assuming that were the case??? If he was wearing something else, what might it have been?

I ask because I finally started my first Dark Urge playthrough yesterday (YIPPEE) and am plagued with thoughts about my guy, wondering if maybe he had some Bhaalist gear on when he first fell out of the Nautiloid that slowly was switched out for other things as the story progressed. Then I was like “oh hey what about Drow??? What was going through his head when he woke up that morning on the beach??????” Especially bc I can’t imagine he had much time to look at what he was wearing on the Nautiloid while it was still flying around.

ANYWAYS. Apologies for the ramble, my brain is plagued with thoughts now that I’m finally doing a Durge run so I might come at you with more random ass questions in the future >:)))

First of all AYYYY have fun with your first durge run!!! I'm always open to more questions if they happen to pop up throughout the experience.

Now to your question: An Interesting one! Though my answer might be disappointing LOL

In my personal lore, DU drow woke up from the tank with nothing but some scrappy underwear on - hell, It would probably make more sense if he was fully nude, even, but that would make many of the companion introductions a little too awkward - so, tattered underwear it is.

Considering what Kressa had been doing to him, I imagine that she would have either removed or destroyed his clothes at some point during the experimentation. DU drow was stuck with her for at least a few weeks - so, even if she didn't promptly undress him, his outfit would have been far too slashed, cut, and caked with old blood to keep, and likely torn off so it would stop getting in the way.

Her husband (I think he's the one who ships you away, if memory serves me right) would have had little reason to send him off with dignity - BUT perhaps he slipped some briefs back onto the drow's body because he felt ashamed of the implications of his wife keeping a battered, nude man around.

So, DU drow slides out of his pod, caked with old blood with only some ill-fitting linens covering his groin. He picks up whatever sharp object he finds lying around for self defense and proceeds through the ship, barefoot, hair matted, having no idea who he is, what he looks like, or how he got here. He's completely overtaken by his self-preservation instincts and being confused is second to getting out of his situation alive. He goes along with Lae'zel because she seems to have at least some idea of what's going on, and he frees Shadowheart from her pod because she seems more trustworthy than Lae'zel.

He probably stripped the trousers off of one of the corpses lying around the beach after the actual crash (they would have been a little tight, but it's better than nothing) and god-willing was able to snatch some fresher underwear at the grove or something. The only indicatives he had of a past life were his scars, and I guess his unusual features. The thing is - whenever he first caught sight of his reflection, he very much liked what he saw looking back. Someone else might have been shocked by their appearance, but what DU drow felt would have been more akin to a kind of relief - I'm strong. I'm big. I'm intimidating. Good. As it should be.

And well... There's not much reason to give it thought past that. His looks feel right, he thinks he looks attractive, even his scars are somewhat comforting. Tadpole and odd company aside, it actually feels nice to be himself right now, so why ruin it with questions and concerns.

[daysofyellowroses]

cherry

carmen berzatto x reader | 2.2k | 18+ minors dni | tw: smut, more smut & tooth-rotting cuteness

prompt was: Carmy doing something mad cheesy and cute for his girl on v-day like he tells her that he has to work on valentines just to surprise her with a super romantic evening like you get home and there’s nice music playing there’s heart confetti in the entry way leading to the dining room and a huge bouquet of roses and a cute teddy bear is on the table and he’s in the kitchen finishing up something looking straight out of a Michelin star menu and he’s like “ oh I bought you new comfy clothes and I got your favorite movie ready for us “ and there’s candles and champagne and you’re just over the moon happy bc he would just do it for his girl bc he wants her to be happy and feel loved and not just bc he wants his dick wet (even though I mean after all the effort he’s ofc getting a big reward) but I could see him totally not even caring about the sexual part and just wanting to worship his girl that day and appreciate how much love they share - as requested by the very lovely and extremely talented @thecapricunt1616 if you don't go check out their work then..you are missing out, go read the bear & his honey it is phenomenal 🌼

this is a valentine's themed story, and i may not be posting it on actual valentine's day but i am posting it on galentine's day which is, frankly, the superior day anyway 🌼

🐻

As much as you didn't really care about Valentine's Day, part of you was still a little disappointed when Carmy told you that he'd put himself down to work a late shift, having forgotten what day it would be. Nobody could swap with him and you accepted that it would just be a regular day.

It wasn't like you and Carm never had dates or didn't do romantic things for each other but..it would have been nice to spend the evening together, even just relaxing on the couch.

From the moment you woke up on the 14th, there was seemingly no escape from the fact that it was Valentine's Day. Every song on the radio was a love song, social media was already flooded with endless posts of love heart pancakes, it was a little much.

Then there was work. At first it was a little cute, the management had arranged for everyone to get a little rose, and there were a couple of boxes of fancy chocolates in the break room. But then there was a seemingly unending stream of couriers dropping off huge bouquets of flowers, giant teddies, endless cards. You were sure some of them had been sent by the recipients anyway, rolling your eyes as yet another excited shriek sounded.

It wasn't that you were jealous, it would actually be pretty mortifying to have to stand there while some random guy belted out a song or recited a horribly cheesy poem at you. It was more of a reminder that you were just having a normal day, you wouldn't get to go home and spend the evening with your boyfriend, feel immense love and happiness.

At the end of the day, you could barely breathe in the elevator, cramped in at the back, surrounded by teddies and flowers, the scent overwhelming. You looked up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath and trying to tune out the chatter happening around you.

‘We actually got reservations at Ever’

‘We're spending the night at the Peninsula’

‘I definitely think he's gonna propose, I found a Tiffany brochure in the nightstand’

When you got to your car, you took a moment to enjoy the silence once you sat in before hooking your phone up to the speaker and blasting your least romantic playlist.

You stopped off at the nearest supermarket on the way home, picking up a bottle of wine, a frozen pizza and some already half-off heart shaped candies by the cash register. There were at least three men ahead of you in the line, all frantically checking their watches as they clutched slightly wilted bouquets and expensive cards.

By the time you got home all you wanted to do was sink into the bath with your bottle of wine, and forget about the day. You took your phone out as you left the car, sending a quick message to Carmy as you made your way into the building.

‘Hey babe, hope work is going okay. Love you ❤️’

You tucked your phone into your pocket before reaching into your bag for your keys, jostling the grocery bag in your other arm.

As soon as you opened the door you could sense something was happening, raising a brow as you heard music playing. The lights were on, dimmed low. You closed the door, looking down at the ground and turning slowly.

There were rose petals strewn across the floor in the shape of a heart, with more loose petals leading down to the living room. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip as you shook your head. Either you had a boyfriend who'd told you a white lie or a very romantic burglar had broken in.

You set the grocery bag down in the hall, taking off your coat and hanging it up before walking into the living room. You couldn't help but laugh with joy, placing your hand over your mouth as you found the biggest bouquet of roses you'd ever seen sitting on the middle of the coffee table.

Sitting on the couch was a stupidly large teddy bear, wearing Carm's beef t-shirt that was more often worn by you anyway. You walked over to the couch, smiling as you touched the teddy's soft head. You looked over your shoulder as you heard a familiar voice, finding your boyfriend leaning against the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and a dish towel over his shoulder.

“Hey,” You grinned. “could've sworn you said you had to work tonight.”

“Well..about that,” Carm grinned, holding out his hand. “there's a chance I was lying.”

“Just a slim chance, is it?” You raised a brow with a smile, stepping closer and taking Carm's hand before he gently dragged you into the kitchen.

“So slim,” Carmy nodded, pulling you in for a kiss before you pulled back and took in the sight of the kitchen. The lights were dimmed low, candles dotted about on the counter and the table, a bottle of wine you knew was super expensive and two glasses waiting.

“Hope you don't mind.”

“I suppose I can forgive you,” You murmured softly, unable to stop smiling as you looked back at your boyfriend. “just this once. This is all..incredible, I can't believe you've done this.”

“I can be romantic when I want to be.” Carm winked at you, walking to the oven and slowly opening it.

You took a deep breath as you took everything in, your hand over your heart.

You wanted to tell Carm that he was always romantic, even when he didn't think he was. Like when he would bring home a dessert for you, when he would let you steal his clothes, dance with you in the kitchen after a long day, spend whole days wrapped around you when you just needed him to be there and couldn't go anywhere.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to do so much, but..you loved that he did. Yes, it was a slightly ridiculous made up day that had driven you crazy but when it was Carm making such an effort to treat you..it felt important and real.

“Oh, before I forget,”

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard Carm's voice, looking over to him.

“I know you said you didn't need it but..I got you that hoodie you wanted,” He smiled. “with the..letters and all that. It's in the bedroom.”

“I don't know what to say,” You smiled, tears starting to well in your eyes. “I..”

“Then don't say anything,” Carm shrugged with a grin. “Just enjoy.”

“That I can do.” You nodded, stepping closer to give him a kiss before heading to the bedroom, your heart achingly full.

Sitting on the floor by your bed was a pink gift bag, red tissue paper with white hearts placed on the top of it. You pictured Carm carefully arranging the paper, wanting it to be perfect.

You went to the bag, carefully moving the tissue paper and reaching inside it to pull out a ridiculously soft hoodie, tears starting to spill from your eyes. You had mentioned, weeks back, when you were laying on the couch with Carm one evening that you had seen a hoodie you liked, lifting your phone to show him. He'd asked if you were going to buy it and you said you'd think about, but it was a little too expensive.

And suddenly there it was, in your hands. You carefully laid it on the bed before going for a shower, laughing to yourself when you thought about how lucky you were, barely able to believe it. After your shower you put on your new hoodie, letting out a relaxed sigh at how soft it felt.

Once you were ready you went to the kitchen, just in time for Carm to hand you a plate and a glass of wine.

“It's just pasta,” He smiled, kissing your cheek. “Come on, I got the movie ready to go.”

You looked down to your plate, raising a brow. In theory it was just pasta, in reality it was a work of art.

“This is too beautiful to eat,” You grinned, looking over to Carm as he got his own plate. “But I'm willing to ignore that.”

As you walked into the living room, you laughed softly as you saw what was waiting on the screen, looking over to Carm.

“We don't have to watch it again.”

“I know, but we will,” He grinned. “It's your favorite.”

“You're my favorite, you softy.” You smiled, sitting down on the couch beside the teddy and resting your plate on your lap. Carm went to sit beside you, picking up the teddy and carefully setting it aside.

“Sorry buddy, she's all mine.”

After the most perfect dinner, you laid down on the couch, your head in Carm's lap as he trailed his fingers along your arm.

“I love you,” You murmured softly, turning to look up at your boyfriend. “kinda feels like I should tell you, getting that vibe today.”

“That's so funny, I got the same vibe,” Carm grinned, moving his hand to touch your cheek gently. “I love you too. So much.”

You sat up, gently touching Carm's cheek as you leaned in for a kiss, your heart swelling as you felt him smile against your lips.

After a while you found yourself sitting in Carm's lap, your hands gently moving through his hair, his hands under your hoodie and gently stroking your waist.

It was slow and intimate and perfect, but you could feel a growing need for more.

As if he could sense your rising desire, Carm pulled back and smiled as he touched your cheek, his eyes focused on you.

“We don't..we don't have to do anything, if you're not in the mood,” He murmured softly. “I'm having the time of my life just being in the same room as you.”

You could have cried. Cried because you knew he truly meant it. He never did anything for you because he expected something in return, never made you feel like you owed him something. Even on a day that basically forced couples into bed, you knew he wouldn't be upset or push you if you said no.

“Look at you,” You murmured with a grin, touching Carm's cheek. “you are so perfect it makes me worry that you're actually a psychopath. Luckily you're a chef so I don't have to worry too much about that.”

He laughed and kissed you deeply, your arms winding around his neck.

“I'm serious,” He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. “just because it's a certain day it doesn't mean we need to do anything.”

“I know,” You grinned, pulling back and moving your hand to gently stroke Carm's hair. “but I would want to be with you no matter what day. And I haven't given you your gift yet.”

“Oh yeah?” Carm raised a brow, unable to hide the grin on his face. “What is it?”

“A surprise of course,” You teased, getting up from the couch, holding your hand out. “come with me and find out.”

He does.

You take him to the bedroom, after a couple of stops for one of you to pull the other in for a kiss.

You tell him to get on the bed, you stand at the end of it.

Despite the slight nerves, you relax when he smiles at you. Your leggings are slowly peeled off, your hoodie pulled away to leave you in a lingerie set that, judging by the way Carm's jaw fell open, was absolutely worth the money.

You give him a full view, turning around in a slow circle before crawling onto the bed and into his lap.

It's quite impressive how speechless he is, taking a moment before he surges forward and kisses you deeply.

His hands are everywhere, fingers digging into you in the most wonderful way. It doesn't take long for marks to bloom on your neck and chest, for you go be laid out on your back, panties tugged aside. He stops you when you go to peel them off, tells you how pretty they make you look .

He takes his time, tongue working you over slowly. You beg for more, he gives you more. His fingers stretch you so perfectly it's almost enough but not quite.

You see stars, breath catching in your throat as you cry out. He moves on top of you, you pull him in to taste yourself.

He's pushed onto his back, you graze your nails over his jeans, tell him to take it all off, slowly. He obliges, a deeper hunger growing in you as he reveals himself to you. Every time feels like the first time, fills you with desire.

Your hand grips his wrist as he goes to take off his shorts, you tell him you got it. His hand moves into your hair as you taste him, endless praise spills from his lips.

Your hands grip the sheets, your back arched as you moan louder than you ever thought possible. His hand moves along your back, his touch firm but full of love.

You lay side by side, hands reaching out to touch each other as your heads turn and eyes meet.

There are no words, but you both know what they are.

After a while you slip your hoodie back on, give Carm a wink as you leave the room.

As you sit between Carm's legs, his arms wrapped firmly around you as you look back and feed him a half-off chocolate, you think maybe this Valentine's Day thing isn't so bad after all.

[agentrouka-blog]

george really wrote himself into a corner with dany bc she has to deal with the dothrakis, burn things in essos, deal with the greyjoys, kill aegon vi, burn things in westeros and form some kind of bond with jon so he can betray her… two books is NOT enough!

Hello! I think it can be done! 😊

My speculation below the cut:

Her villain development in Essos is almost complete, so I think the dothraki takeover and her final showdown with Illyrio (I think!) will be the most significant aspects for GRRM to cover in TWOW through her own eyes, with the Meereen devolution (alongside maybe Volantis) being handled mainly through Barristan's POV, with Tyrion's POV augmenting both. GRRM needs to resolve the echoes of her childhood and Valyrian origin in order for her to enter her doomed endgame in Westeros in ADOS, aware of and preparing to confront Aegon.

The Greyjoy plot will happen alongside that, because it's truly significant in providing the transport that Dany needs to travel West with her armies, and whatever Euron's plot will be will happen in ADOS and end comparatively early, probably. Her last hurrah as a victorious savior and a sobering warning at the same time, probably.

ADOS has enough room for the conflict between Aegon and Dany to come to the fore, while Dany actually experiences the foreign continent she considers her stolen property. The old emotional wounds she probably examines in late TWOW will provide the premise for her growing instability in the face of disappointment, rejection and failure to replicate the triumphs and popularity of her past.

I don't think her relationship with Jon will be as central and as significant as the show tried to paint it, and certainly not a romantic relationship, because this conflict isn't between them, it's between herself and the toxic heritage that has shaped her life. Jon's parentage is just one more facet of that, and likely to be entwined with her conflict with his half-brother. The resistance of the North will not matter terribly more than any other region's.

You are right when you think there's not enough time to form a bond with Jon that would make a betrayal a compelling narrative climax to her story. I'm not sure Jon will be significantly involved in her death, even.

Dany's end will ultimately reside in herself, whatever shape it will take, and it will center around her broken relationship with the world and herself, not one specific person.

[kairiscorner]

Helloo, can I request Miguel with an artist reader who draws him a lot? 👉👈 Like the reader has a secret crush on Miguel and he inspires them a lot, without even knowing it. And maybe there's a Gwen-and-Miles-like-situation where Miguel by accident discovers the drawings of him in their sketchbook?

AAAAAAAA ANON THIS IS SO CUTE !! tbh i wanted to finish the miggy fic i had for ate @binibinileonara bc i wanted to connect these two together, BUT I COULDN'T RESIST, I'LL MAKE IT SEPARATE BC WHY NOT !! thank you for the lovely idea btw (i also had an idea like this actually in my notes) THANKS FOR GIVING ME THE OOMPH TO DO IT !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you always had this desire to capture all that interested you in its full beauty, in its unbridled greatness. that was, to you, the essence of all your art pieces; they always reflected how you saw the world, how you saw nature, how you saw people.

you never believed people had one or two faces to them, you believed people were multi-faceted, that every person was a kaleidoscope of beauty, skills, quirks, flaws, fears, hopes, and dreams. you loved capturing every bit of people who intrigued you the best you could, and you hoped that if you stood back and admired the big picture that was them, going over the details and fibers that made each person their own–from the good, bad, pretty and ugly details–you would finally see the whole, uncut image of the person you were illustrating; who you were painting in the colors you saw them in, the colors that stuck with you and filled the empty canvas of your mind with all sorts of shapes and splotches of hues and shades that formed the image of them when their name would come to mind.

and for some reason... that person to you right now was miguel o'hara. you had a lot of things to say about him, even words that many would argue don't exist. you felt a myriad of feelings when you were around miguel, and you knew there was more than just the dictating leader miguel that everyone was familiar with. like all people, miguel, too, was an explosion of different kinds of colors to you–colors that only you could see, because when he was around you... he was more than just the cool, calm, and collected boss everyone saw him as.

he was much more caring, much more funny around you. his smile when you told him a funny story illuminated a bright yellow and a warm orange to you–his eyes would twinkle and you'd see the hazelnut brown in his eyes, and a shade of what appeared to be coffee brown at the bottom of his irises. he exuded a commanding aura, a dark, cool blue–but when paired with you, and only you, he exuded a bright red; a color of fiery passion, intimacy, and most of all... attraction.

he was the subject of your affections, you, the soulful and emotional artist that admired him and all that he was from afar and up close. you admired the way he held your hand when you were scared on a few missions, you admired how gently he held you when you two were caught between a rock and a hard place; and how soft and loving his eyes were when they gazed at you. you knew he might have felt a platonic kind of love for you, what with being so comfortable around you and all, but you felt a different kind of love for him–and you hated denying your creative side the indulgence of capturing him in all his beauty.

hence, you began slowly filling the empty spaces of your sketchbooks and notebooks, or whatever other papers lay around when inspiration struck you, with images of him and only him. you caught his face in moments where he was nonchalant, disappointed, angry, grumpy, and... smiling.

when you witnessed his smile for the first time when you met him, that image was burned into your retinas, into your mind, into your heart. you saw that smile from the minute you went to bed to the minute you woke up, the only thing that saddened you was that you could never hold that man who smiled at you and made your heart beat a little faster–you could only watch him and be with him at a distance. but art was the bridge between you two that'd close that distance you wanted to cover so, so badly.

you did, at times, believe what you were doing was... a little creepy. you refused to let anyone see your sketchbooks even before you drew him, and that was out of embarrassment at your drawings. but now, it was a new kind of embarrassment, a feeling adjacent to guilt and disgust at how nobody but he could fill your mind and have you wanting to keep him in your mind by feeding yourself, indulging yourself in putting him on paper and coloring him in; to be with him at a closer perspective than how you two were in the real world.

you had to admit it–seeing him constantly in your mind, wanting to let thoughts of him out on paper as you wanted to be through with imagining him, but knew you couldn't the more and more you portrayed him–it meant you... wanted him. you really, really loved him.

you knew nobody should know, nobody had to know about this little crush you had on miguel. you'd rather die than have someone peek at your sketchbook that was filled with all kinds of drawings of him. but unfortunately, the man himself bore witness to your caricatures and illustrations of him when you left your sketchbook at his office.

you ran as quickly as you could, praying he hadn't opened it out of curiosity. he was always asking you what you were up to, and you'd immediately shut your sketchbook and laugh awkwardly, claim you were merely doodling. you always left out the part that you were constantly drawing him, and only ever him; and now, he'd find out.

as you entered his office, scouring with your eyes for your sketchbook, a figure emerged from the darkness behind you and gave a slight cough. "this is yours, isn't it?" that low, fluid voice was none other than miguel's. you turned around in fear of what he was going to look like–would any of the faces you drew seeing him as be one of the faces you'd see?

to your surprise... no. he had a different, completely new face that you had never drawn him in; a flustered state. he was blushing, his angled cheeks and high nose bridge were covered in a pink-red hue–and he was grinning. he handed you the sketchbook with a now sheepish smile. "i'm sorry, i wasn't sure if it was yours. i had to... look through for a name. and, um... it was very–" he wanted to continue, but then, he saw you were on the verge of tears.

"i'm... sorry..." you muttered, feeling incredibly ashamed of yours and busted for having indulged in drawing him without him knowing. guilt stirred in your stomach and elicited tears to well up in your eyes. miguel smiled, and as his eyebrows curved upwards together to form a look of reassurance, he placed both hands on your shoulders.

"listen, you have a wonderful talent. i'm sorry if you don't hear that enough, but that changes today. i'm so... wow, i'm so flattered you thought i was good enough to be drawn that way. it feels... amazing, to know an artist sees me fit to be their, what would you call it?" he asked as he wiped a tear rolling down your cheek away from you.

"a... muse." you whispered, wiping the rest of your tears away. miguel chuckled. "right, a muse." he said as he inched closer to you, with the sweetest smile on his face. "i might sound really crazy right now, but... i want to be your muse. i really, really want to be your muse." he said, with emphasis on 'your'.

your face lightened up as the tears that welled up gave your eyes a glassy look, and you saw the blush on his deepen as you became more and more flustered. you smiled and wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him in for an embrace you needed to release. "and i want to be your artist. only yours." you whispered, to which miguel reciprocated your hug. and it was here that you witnessed him in a new color, a pinkish, reddish hue that made you feel all kinds of happiness and excitement.

a love meant to be captured and painted in with bursts of emotion and care for one another.

a/n: I'M SO SORRY IF IT DIDN'T COME OUT THAT WELL NGL I MADE THIS A LITTLE RUSHED 😭😭😭 BUT I LOVE MIGGY HERE PLSSS AND I HOPE Y'ALL LOVE HIM HERE, TOO <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck

[pjmparadise]

3:23 am (don’t go, stay) Pt 1 || JJK

Pairing: jungkook x f! original character

Word count: 12.1k

Genre(s): fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, slight angst if you squint; neighbor au, pre-debut Jungkook au, pre-debut au, comic book artist Jungkook au, apartment au, neighbor au

Warnings: cursing, mentions of jungkook’s penis (yeah yeah... he sleeps naked ofc), brief injury (jk hurts himself bc he’s a dork); descriptions of anxiety and fear (jungkook is scared for a sec, oops); nudity mentions, jungkook is a little horny (what can I say....), jungkook gets a hard on lol; he’s also down bad pathetic crushing and is super clumsy, and brief mentions of home robberies (lol this feels random, but it isn’t I swear), very heavily dialogue based

Audience: 18+ (minors, DNI!)

Summary: Jungkook has had a couple of awkward run-ins with his pretty upstairs neighbor, who he may or may not be secretly pining over, and one night, she pays him an unexpected visit.

“My patio, though. Did you fall? I heard a thud.”

“Are you flirting with me? I’ve heard that pickup line before, but yours sounds a little different.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t use pickup lines like those with you.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A/N: WOOO! my first jungkook fic!! We recently got his birth time, and thus this title was born lol! I’ve been working on this baby for a few months now, and it’s finally finished!! After a long time of contemplating, i decided to make our female character an original character, and i know it’s kind of a rare thing in the community, but i felt it worked best with my story. It’s been a bumpy ride with this one since it’s my first lengthy fic (over 12k words... sheesh!) that will be a part of a short series. I’m very excited and a little nervous, but if you’re here, I’m glad to have you here. Thank you for giving my work a shot <3 (ps. italics indicate jungkook’s inner thoughts as well as flashbacks)

a big thank you to my lovely beta’s: @cherrysoulth @the-boy-meets-evil​ and @jeonjcngkook​ you’ve all helped me shape my fic and have been so helpful, and I am so so grateful. truly. seriously. thank you for brainstorming with me, for reading my work, and for being so sweet and so supportive.

a special thank you to @itaeewon​ for the lovely banner! I love it so so much &lt;3

Jungkook is awake to hear the sound of a muffled thud nearby.

His bedroom is dark and silent save for the alarm clock resting on a bedside table flashing bright red numbers at him. ‘It’s late, it’s late, you should be asleep,’ the time says. Jungkook shuts his eyes, groaning and rubbing a hand over his face. “I know, fuck, I know,” he mutters. He’s fully naked, lying on his back, eyes wide open and boring into the ceiling, blanket kicked off to the side, and arms folded behind his neck–still remembering a phone conversation with Namjoon earlier in the day.

“So she walked toward the elevator as it closed, and you didn’t open it for her?” Namjoon scoffs over the phone, shaking his head and clicking his tongue to show he’s disappointed. He knows Jungkook froze, Jungkook already told him he wanted to reach out and push the button for her, but Namjoon asked again anyway—he likes to give him a hard time. “Every time you see this girl, things just kind of go wrong. I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “I’ve noticed too. Is it a sign? Should I give up?” In his apartment, he sat curled up on his couch, his chin on his kneecaps. He’s fallen silent in thought.

“No, nothing like that. Maybe she didn’t get to see it was you, so she thinks it was someone else, or maybe she doesn't even think about it anymore. You know, like things that happen in your day you forget about later unless something reminds you of it?”

“Yes!” Jungkook relaxed, falling back against the couch with a hand over his forehead. “That probably is what’s going on. She went on with her day; other things have to happen, right?”

Namjoon was quiet. In his apartment, he was opening mail and reading over a proposal he was meant to sign soon. A project he hasn’t mentioned to anyone else, Namjoon folds the letter and sets it aside. “Sorry, yes. Yes, don’t worry too much. It will ruin your day. I mean that. Sorry for the pause. I just opened some mail.”

“Ah, okay. Well, you’re right.” Jungkook rose from his seat then. “Namjoon-hyung?”

Namjoon nodded even though he couldn’t be seen. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. I don’t know if I say that enough, but you’re always helping and guiding me when I don’t even realize I need it.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. Finish your comic tonight, and submit it tomorrow. I know you’ll place in the contest and do well. You haven’t scrapped it have you?”

Jungkook sighed. Rubbing his eyelids, walking distractedly around his living room, he spoke with his eyes closed. “I have it. I finished it; I just don’t feel too good about posting it, even with the pseudonym; it feels like too much. Too much with what we already have going on as a group even. We’re trying to do something together, and the comic stuff is just… I don’t know. I don’t want it to distract me.”

Namjoon was on his back patio, leaning over the railing and looking out at the park across from him. “Jungkook, I’m going to tell you something and think about it however you want to. I respect your life, but I think—and these are just my opinions. I think you doubt yourself too often and need to take some chances. Luck turns out; it does.” Namjoon folds his arms over the railing, leaning his body against it. “No rush, bro. At all. The music we’re trying to pursue, it’s not going anywhere, you know?”

Jungkook nodded from his living room.

“Like, okay, look.” Namjoon fixed his gaze on a flock of birds rising from the trees. “The guys, we all have our passions. Yoongi with his piano, Jimin is passionate about his dancing, Taehyung with his instruments, Jin and his gaming, and Hoseok he’s been designing his own clothes lately; with me, you know I like poetry and painting, but we all share music. That is for the team, for a part of us, but we each have so many parts. You like art and storytelling; your comics are so cool, bro. You love watching Taehyung practice the trumpet, and Jimin dance after practice. We like to see you pursue your other dreams too.  Pursue it, and don't worry about the group, is all I ask.”

Jungkook almost cried. He stopped pacing. His heart was racing; it was all he had heard momentarily. If Namjoon were there in front of him, he’d hug him. Maybe he’d even cry. “Ah, Namjoon-hyung…” he swallowed hard at the saliva in his throat, blushing. ‘Namjoon always knows what to say,’ he thought. “I will think about it. I will set an alarm, just in case. I’ll decide in the morning, you know it’s my style to do that the day of. If I think about it now, it will be like this all day, and I’ll stress too much.”

“Good, then. Just think about it.” Namjoon smiled.

Jungkook lies motionless with his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, mouthing along to Namjoon’s words. “We like to see you pursue your other dreams too.  Pursue it, and don't worry about the group, is all I ask.” He sighs. How could he not worry about the guys? He’s twenty-five. Most idols start out much younger, and the mandatory enlistment is already so near for his hyungs. It’s bad timing, is all. My comic book can wait.

He wants to sleep, so he turns over, laying flat on his stomach, facing his wall. Resting his full body weight on his flaccid penis is slightly uncomfortable, but he ignores it. It’s the type of restless night that he has no chance up against, and even with his eyes closed, he feels painfully awake. Jungkook is thinking of her again—her pretty smile, the pink sundress she wore in the elevator, her ability to look him in the eyes and not shy away—and it’s almost like she's here, in the same room with him. He pictures the sundress again, the way it clung to her frame, highlighting every curve. Man, I want her. He shifts his hips around, surprising himself with a massive erection.

The thud strikes again suddenly, and he sits up, alarmed. Shit, is that here? Like outside my apartment? Jungkook squints in the darkness, bringing a hand to the nightstand to fetch his glasses. Any sign of arousal is now extinguished.

“Bam?” He calls out in a sluggish voice.  The clock beside him flashes bright red numbers at him. 3:23. “Ah, shit,” Jungkook mumbles, turning the clock away. A sound he can’t distinguish comes from his left, directly outside his bedroom. “It’s like home alone,” he says to no one.

Jungkook rests his head against the wall, the texture cold against his feverish face. He can hear the sound of a muffled conversation. “Shit, that’s right here, right outside,” he mumbles, stepping back. He reaches over mechanically to switch on the lamp beside him.

Now, Jungkook is painfully aware of his nakedness and frenetically searches for bottoms to change into. He’s thinking about how his legs don’t feel like his own as he walks to the chair by the door, where he sees basketball shorts. It’s like sleepwalking. Even though he’s awake, Jungkook feels as though he might’ve actually fallen asleep, and this is some strange anxiety dream he’s creating to cope with his qualms about submitting his comic. Still, he goes along with it, quietly changing into the shorts, walking out into his living room, and ducking his head when he passes the glass patio door.

Cursing under his breath, annoyed at himself for forgetting to throw on a shirt, Jungkook shakes his head at himself. I don't want to fight an intruder shirtless and commando in basketball shorts, damn... A part of him feels a rush of adrenaline as he crouches behind a potted plant and, chewing on his lower lip, fantasizes about a robbery gone wrong, one where he puts his boxing skills to the test—the other part of him wants this to be a dream, a sign from the universe that he ought to submit his comic. I’ll fucking do it if I survive this.

Jungkook stays like that for a while until he hears a sound again. Rising from his crouched position, he walks toward the back patio window, pulling back the curtain to peer out. He feels a tightness in his chest, and his hands tremble slightly. A shameful part of him is relieved that he’s alone and no one is around to see how shaken up he is.

He whistles quietly, calling to Bam, forgetting his brother is watching over him tonight. Craning his neck, he glances around his balcony patio and sees nothing. “Bam, come here,” his whispering is frantic. He whistles again, patting his leg lightly. Nothing. You’re okay. It’s nothing. It’s probably the cats again tipping over the plants. Just fix it tomorrow. Now, go back to bed. You need it. Jungkook is about to whistle once more when he remembers. His eyebrows knit together; shaking his head, he places his fingertips on his eyelids, murmuring a lamented, “Ah.”

Thinking better of it, he draws the curtain back again and sighs with relief before taking note of a figure crouched behind a chair with a hand shooting up to rub their head. Panic washes over him. His inner monologue consists of a string of every curse word he can think of as he ducks out of view. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s a person. If he’d been scared earlier, now he’s downright petrified.

Desperate, he begins to look around the room for a weapon. Anything. Jungkook stands still, breathing in heavy gulps of air, cradling his head as he adjusts his vision to the darkness of the living room. ‘Can’t even turn a fucking light on,’ he thinks as he drops to the ground and crawls around his living room. His home’s silence unsettles him. Jungkook can hear the nothingness aside from his ragged breathing, so he pinches the skin on his arm and hisses at the sharp pain. Okay, real life it is. His bare knees skid against the hard flooring, and his clammy palms slip beneath him; his heart is thudding hard and fast, the blood pooling between his ears. He’s scowling, chewing his lower lip, his chest heaving as he fumbles a hand under the couch; he fingers a cold object and remembers what it is. Aha! He comes up with a golf club Taehyung left behind a few nights ago. I love you, Taehyung!

Jungkook grips the golf club until his knuckles take on a pale color. Having a weapon gives him a newfound sense of security, and like before, he’s fantasizing about kicking someone’s ass. “You come to my house at three in the morning? My house?” he says as he walks through his living room, rolling his shoulders.

He draws the curtain again, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness; he sees the figure facing away from him and hunching over, a phone glowing against their face. He can call the police, and he almost wants to, but to avoid the drama of a police visit at three in the morning, he decides against it. Imagine the guys find out I called the police? He shudders at the thought. The stranger looks small anyway.

Jungkook reaches for the doorknob and pulls back the door. It’s a lot chillier than he’d anticipated. He folds his arms over his bare chest instantly, the skin covered in goosebumps—his teeth chatter of their own accord.

“Don't move!” He raises the golf club in a mid-swing position, ready to strike. The person shifts around, holding up the hand with the phone. “I said, ‘Don’t move’!” He sounds ridiculous, but he doesn't care. In the shadows, he watches the phone’s glow shut off. “I called the police, so don’t try anything. They’re on the way.” His voice doesn't even sound like his own. He takes a few steps toward the stranger, his grip tightening around the golf club. His heart feels heavy in his chest.

It’s hard to make out the features of this person, but they rise, walk toward the dim light spilling from the neighbor’s window, and he can see them now. The stranger looks straight at him, and he’s met with wide eyes staring at him. She’s standing, squinting at him with a hand on her hip, and she smiles wide. Damn! If this were an animation, she’d have a halo effect.

Jungkook has seen her a total of seven times—he can’t help it; he likes to keep track of these things. It’s his upstairs neighbor, their interactions before tonight being brief and in passing (the most recent engraved in his mind and tormenting him), and he’s thought of her tirelessly and has fantasized about a time they should meet, and things go well for a change.

Jungkook doesn't know her name, but he could recognize those beautiful dark eyes anywhere. He’s looking into them now, his body anchored, mouth turning into sawdust.

She’s talking to him; he’s just not listening. Not really. He can't grasp the reality that it’s actually her, and she’s standing on his patio, and she looks so beautiful. Should he be thinking that?

Her long black hair is in a loose ponytail, her eyebrows arch as her deep dark eyes blink at him, and her lips move. “Please tell me you didn't really call the cops,” she says, bursting through his trance.

Damn, I sounded so stupid! Jungkook blushes. He hopes she can’t tell from where she stands.

“I was trying to call my friend; I swear I was not snooping or breaking in.” She smiles, but her voice sounds worried. Her eyebrows furrow like she’s trying to read him. “Honest,” she says in a small voice as she leans on the railing and raises her hand with the cell phone for emphasis.

She’s wearing a dark gray sweatshirt twice her size and sandals with white socks, and he can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or if the sweatshirt is all. He can feel his face reddening just from the possibility of her nakedness underneath the sweatshirt, so he decides not to focus on that.

Jungkook rubs the nape of his neck, abashed. The cold air surrounds him, and he folds his arms across his chest, remembering his exposed chest. His empty threat echoes and bounces around in his head, and he looks away from her. “I didn't call the cops, sorry. I didn't know what else to say. It’s what they say in movies.”

“You would be right anyway; this is your patio.” She laughs a little at that, and his heart rate picks up. She pushes herself away from the railing, smiling, and walks toward him with an outstretched hand. Her nail polish is glittery, and he doesn't notice, but this small detail makes him smile. “I’m Rei. I live upstairs. Maybe you’ve seen me before.” There’s a coy look on her face as she says this, and it makes him nervous.

So her name is Rei!!! Fireworks set off, exploding behind Jungkook’s wide eyes.

“Huh, maybe,” Jungkook lies. He shakes her hand slowly, his hand enveloping hers entirely, the contact sending a warm shock through his body.

“Maybe a few days ago,” she says, with a finger to her chin, like she’s thinking over something. “Oh, yes, have I seen you on the elevator?”

“The elevator?” He feigns innocence as he tongues his lip ring anxiously. “That’s strange. Every day is a blur for me.”

“For me, too,” she replies. She’s almost smirking, watching Jungkook lie. He can tell she’s caught him. “You just look sooo familiar.”

“That’s a first.” Still, he denies it.

“Maybe you just look like someone I’ve seen,” she says, looking into his eyes as if searching for something she placed there. “You have one of those faces, you know?”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows, lips parted to speak, but nothing comes out. 

Is she flirting with me or giving me a hard time? DAMN!

“I have an ordinary face?” Jungkook wonders after a moment.

“Either that or my memory is failing me,” she says, sighing and shaking her head. “Which do you think it is?”

“I don't have an ordinary face,” Jungkook says in a small voice, “I have piercings on my face.”

“That’s true…” she’s watching the ground and suddenly looks into his eyes again. She holds his stare unblinking, and then her lips pull back into a big smile showing off cute bunny teeth. Just like me. “I’ve always had a good memory; I was just kidding.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says, blushing.

He can smell her perfume when a cold breeze blows past him, carrying her real-life presence and enveloping him in it. It’s sweet and mixed with a scent of detergent he recognizes, and he’s watching how strands of her hair float beside her face. She’s so cute. Damnnnn.

“You should open the door for the ladies,” Rei says, raising an eyebrow, and stepping closer, she says, “Just harmless advice. Stranger .”

“I will consider that,” he replies, avoiding her fixed stare, attempting to ignore how she’s riled him up with a loud clearing of his throat. But his chest is on fire, his heart thudding hard against his rib cage at her closeness. “My patio, though. Did you fall? I heard a thud.”

“Are you flirting with me? I’ve heard that pickup line before, but yours sounds a little different.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t use pickup lines like those with you.”

She laughs, and he internally swoons. If he were a cartoon, his heart would burst out of his chest in comical dramatic thuds, his pupils heart-shaped.

“I’m kidding. I know I’m giving you a hard time when I’m on your patio at three in the morning, but I can explain why I’m here,” Rei mimics Jungkook’s movements by crossing her arms across her chest, her lower lip trembling, “but can I come in? It’s cold out, and I'm in the worst attire for this weather.” She gestures vaguely at her exposed legs, and Jungkook’s stare lingers before she notices—so he responds with a nod as he gestures for her to follow him inside. “Though you might have me beat. You came out here without a shirt, damn.”

Leading the way, he blushes at her comment and gives his head a light shake. She’s so talkative! Yoongi was right about her.

With a dreamy air about him, he remembers Namjoon’s words. Except now, all he remembers is: “You need to take some chances. Luck turns out; it does.”

Inside, Jungkook excuses himself to his room to change into a shirt. He reaches for his glasses beside his bed and goes to the closet. “Shirt, shirt, shirt,” he mutters as his hands sift through empty hangers. When was the last time he did laundry? He groans. “Shirt?” he reaches to pick up a heap of white clothing in the deep corner of the closet. He brings the shirt to his nose, sniffs, and walks back into the room, raising an eyebrow and nodding with approval. His hands are shaky as he maneuvers his head through a t-shirt sleeve in a panicked rush. He yanks the shirt off again, the t-shirt now inside out and knotted up in his grip; he groans as his fingers work the fabric. What if she’s gone when I go back out there? Agh, what if I’m dreaming all of this up, and lack of sleep is finally getting to me?

Rei’s voice comes through the walls, and though this is their first official meeting, he knows she’s smiling as she calls out to him. “You okay in there?”

Smoothing out the wrinkles on the shirt, he glances at his reflection behind the bedroom door before stepping out, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. “I’m okay; all is OK. Sorry.” He offers her a thumbs up and a big goofy grin that makes her laugh.

“Did you go on a hike without me?” She asks from her seat on his couch. She rests her face on her palm, looking up at him as he walks past toward the kitchen.

“Hike? I just put the shirt on; it was fighting me, though.”

“No, I meant,” she shakes her head, laughing. “I meant that as a while for changing into a shirt. Bad joke, sorry.”

“Ah,” Jungkook says.

“You’re wearing glasses,” she comments, her eyes looking over his face.

“I am,” he says, glancing her way.

It looks like she wants to say something else but doesn't.

He raises his eyebrows, nodding and tonguing the inside of his cheek. It doesn't happen often, but he doesn't know what to say. He walks into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. “Do you drink tea?” He wonders as he fills a kettle with water and sets it to boil.

Rei nods, stretching her legs before her and craning her neck back to look up at the ceiling. “Chamomile or whatever you have, I’m not picky.” She points a finger above her head, motioning for him to look. “Those are stars. Is this wallpaper? It looks pretty. Is it glow-in-the-dark?”

Jungkook is in the kitchen, his eyes watching how her finger moves in a swift motion of the length of the ceiling. He thinks about how her hand felt in his grip and wishes he’d been more present. “It’s… I don’t know, actually. It’s not a wallpaper; it’s carved into the ceiling, and yes, it glows but not like the bright green; it’s softer.” He looks at her, and she scrunches her eyebrows in confusion. “Want to see?”

She twists her body to look at him, her smile so big he can’t help but return the affection. “Yes. Show me.”

“Grab the remote beside you; turn off the lights with it.”

She clicks the lights off, and the gasp she lets out makes his heart flutter in his chest. Aside from the hard thudding in his chest, the only sounds nearby are the buzzing of the refrigerator, the ice machine rolling out handfuls of freshly carved-out cubes, and the bubbling water in the kettle. Jungkook doesn't dare disturb the quiet; he’s leaning against the kitchen table, wanting her to stay. He looks for her in the dark, his eyes finding her silhouette on the couch, his lips pulling back into a smile. She’s better than in his daydreams; she smells sweet and of detergent, and she feels like a real person just like him, so near but out of his reach. And here, in the same room as him, so close to him, Jungkook realizes she could’ve left by now but hasn’t.

“I’d love it if I had this on my ceiling,” Rei pouts, “want to trade?” She clicks the lights back on, and Jungkook blinks, slowly adjusting to the brightness.

He pretends to mull it over, humming and tonguing his cheek. He puts on his best-thinking face. “No way, but you can come over and look at the stars when it's overcast or raining outside.” He walks toward the stove, where the water boils in the kettle. With his back turned to her, he’s hiding his blushing face as he sets two cups out before him.

“I think that sounds nice,” she replies, surprising him. “So what, I walk outside sometime, see a gray sky, and come downstairs to see you? ‘Hey, neighbor, can I see the stars?’ and you say, ‘Come in, I’ve just made cocoa, would you like some?’ and I say, ‘Thank you, are you sure?’ and then you say, ‘Sure’ except I never leave because I like the stars so much and you don’t know how to tell me I should go home.”

“Oh, that’s a good conversation. Is that what you’d like me to make? I like hot cocoa,” Jungkook says, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “You think I'd want you to leave?”

“Well, if I were here all the time….” she looks at him through her lashes, and he catches her eyes and raises an eyebrow at her, a playful smirk on his lips. And she shakes her head, laughing. “Do you mean it, though?”

“About you coming to see the stars whenever you’d like?” Jungkook asks, leaning against the kitchen island. She nods at him in two slow motions of her head. “Yes, I mean it.”

“The skies are unusually gray these days, aren’t they?”

“I’ve noticed that too,” he says, opening the fridge. He grabs a box of cherries and shuts the door with his elbow. “But no rain.”

“Exactly, I told my friend Kimi; she lives with me upstairs and is almost a sister to me, except we have different parents. Well, I told her, ‘Haven't you noticed how it looks like it’s going to rain every day, but it never does?’ and she says, ‘Rei, it rains. It just happens to be when you’re asleep,’ and can you believe it? I woke up yesterday, and it was early, not like tonight, but early for me, and I looked outside my window, and there was dew sticking to the glass, and it was all sweaty when I touched the windowpane, and I realized she was right, it rained during the night, and I just missed it. Isn't that something so lame?”

“Huh,” Jungkook says, chewing on a cherry and offering the box to her. She shakes her head no and mouths a ‘Thank you’ to him. “So we’re off asleep and just missing the rain, so it always works out that we’re missing out on something during the day. It’s always like that. Kimi sees the rain, and you’re off sleeping, but you probably get to see other things I miss when I’m taking a nap and on and on.”

“That’s true. But I thought about catching it tonight. When I went to bed hours ago, I kept thinking about the rain and wondering if I stayed up, I might see it, and it wouldn’t just feel like I kept missing it and living the same gray day.”

“It’s like Santa Claus,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose as he tongues a cherry stem in his mouth, “waiting up all night for him to show up just for you to see your dad dressed up as Santa and realize he’s been putting the presents down there for years.”

Rei laughs at this and covers her face with her hands like she’s protecting her laugh from anything sharp. “Your dad did that? For real?”

Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows and pinches his nose bridge, and with a tone of feigned affliction, he says, “Yeah, he did. I knew the truth before a lot of my classmates.”

“How old were you? When he ruined Santa Claus. Do you remember a thing like that, like how old you were?” She rests her chin on her palm like she’s weighing her head. He thinks she looks cute like that but doesn’t say anything.

“I don't know exactly, but I was in the third year of school,” Jungkook says, suddenly thinking back on his infancy. He chews his lower lip when the answer suddenly comes to him, and he remembers the conversation he had with the guys a while back. They’d all taunted Seokjin when they found out Seokjin didn't know the truth about Santa until he was thirteen. “I was seven. I can't believe I remembered that. I was seven….” His mouth hangs open, and he remembers what he wore when he first saw his dad hunched over behind the tree with a gift in hand— a white flannel pajama set and his mother’s slippers. Where has this memory been hiding?  “Damn.”

“I was six,” she says, smiling. “My childhood was ruined a year before yours. Or wait, are we the same age? I just assumed we were.” She laughs again, bringing a hand up to her face to hide her smile.

“I assumed the same thing,” Jungkook admits, feeling his cheeks redden. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Oh wow,” she says, almost to herself. “Me too.”

He doesn't know what else to do but clear his throat and nod.  He never imagined getting this far (whatever that means). He’ll struggle to explain this later when Namjoon asks—Jungkook knows he’ll ask.

The kettle begins to whistle, and he’s reaching for the two coffee mugs as she says something behind him he doesn't catch. And he turns his head over his shoulder and nods at her. “What happened? Sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“I said, ‘You don't have to do that for me.’” She turns her head away as she says this, her long hair cascading along her profile, hiding her.

“I have a visitor,” he says, turning over to look at her with a grin. “I have good manners.”

“Oh, sure, manners,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him like a friend he’s known for years. “Is that my tea? It smells amazing.”

“It is, but it’s hot, so let’s leave it here.” Jungkook offers her a tight-lipped smile, shyly making his way toward her. “Mind if I sit next to you?”

“No, not at all; come, sit.” She pats the spot beside her and scoots over to make room for him. “Thank you for the tea and for letting me in. I know it’s late.”

Jungkook glances at the clock on the kitchen stove. 3:55. “It’s not that late. I was awake anyway, so I didn’t mind.” He’s toying with his lip ring again. “Why were you out there anyway?”

It’s been some time since Jungkook’s been this close to a girl. He feels his heart thudding away in his chest, her presence stirring up a desire that’s been dormant. Loose strands of hair frame her face, and his eyes follow her movements as she brushes the strands away. She looks embarrassed, her cheeks reddening. Still, he finds her so cute. “Truth?”

“Yes.” He scrunches his nose when he smiles at her.

“I locked myself out of my apartment. Before bed, I stepped out into my patio for a smoke and to read more of my book. I was also trying to test my rain suspicions to see if I could catch it while it happened. So, I’m out there romanticizing my life, pretending I’m in a movie; you know how we act when we’re alone and suddenly want to be poetic?” She looks at Jungkook, and he nods lightly. “That was me, except I got cold right away and said, ‘Oh fuck this, I’m going to bed,’ and that’s when I realized I’d locked the back door, and I was so mad I almost cried.” She places her fingertips against her forehead, continuing her recounting. “So, of course, I get the idea of calling a locksmith, but they’re closed; I don’t know what people should do if they need help during the night.”

“Most people sleep, I think.”

She clicks her tongue. “Right, some people do, but you and I are not those people, right?” She draws an imaginary line with her forefinger from her chest toward him. He nods and feigns oblivious as his leg brushes against her bare thigh as she shifts in her seat. “So, not only is every locksmith not available, but my service is horrible, so I am standing on my tiptoes trying to get a bar, and my phone slips. My heart almost burst.” She brings a hand to her chest for visual effect, and his eyes watch her chest as it rises and falls with each breath. He’s smiling at her—a wide smile that hurts his cheeks. “If it weren’t for your patio, my phone would be shattered to hell on the ground. I look over my balcony, and for the first time, I notice how close our balconies are.” Rei presses her hands over her thighs, leaning forward in her seat and fixing her eyes on the glass patio door across from her. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I don’t go out there much. Anyway, I’m rambling. I noticed I could jump directly into your patio because there’s a mattress out there, and well….” She makes a motion with her hands that says: ‘ Ya know?’

“You weren’t scared of jumping? The balconies are close, but we’re still six stories up.” Jungkook rests his hands on his knees, fully invested in this story; his eyes never leave her. She forms a tight line with her lips and gives him a serious look that makes him laugh. “Ok, so you were scared.”

“I was scared! But there’s a mattress out there, you know,” she says in a small voice. She’s blushing and scratching at the side of her nose to avoid his eyes.

Jungkook notices this and clicks his tongue, leaning back in his seat.  “So it was not an accident, then?” He raises an eyebrow at her, sucking his teeth in feigned disapproval.

The truth is, he’s not mad about it; he wants her here. He almost feels like he is in a dream.

“Not entirely. Don’t ask me how I thought about returning to my place after retrieving my phone because I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Oh, there’s a mattress out there. You could’ve just slept there; no big deal,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Rei brings a hand to her face to hide behind, making a groaning sound. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to laugh at you. I just don't know what to think— this has never happened before.”

“And it won’t happen again; let’s hope.” She laughs, and it’s different from before; it sounds deeper like she reached into herself and decided to really show him. And Jungkook likes the sound of her laugh but does not comment. She moves a few strands of hair from her face and rests her cheek on her hand, leaning on the couch's armrest. It’s slowly dawning on Jungkook how badly he wants her. What am I supposed to do with her this close to me? Damn. “So, what’s your name? You didn’t say when I told you mine.”

He rises from the couch, remembering their tea.

“Jeon Jungkook,” he says as he pours the tea, “I guess I forgot to introduce myself. Huh.”

Rei’s looking at him with her chin in her hand and a serious look on her face as he’s walking toward her with an outstretched hand in offering. “It’s chamomile,” Jungkook announces.

“Jeon Jungkook,” She repeats with a light smile. “I like it. I don’t know any other Jungkooks.”

“Yeah? I’ve had this name for a long time. I like it too.”

She takes the cup and brings it to her face, inhaling the scent and shivering, and says, “Thank you again. This tea smells sweet. It reminds me of this tea my grandmother used to make my sister and me when we were kids. She would put a little bit of honey, the real kind, and peppermint leaves; it was….” She sighs longingly. “I miss that tea; this smells like home.”

Sitting beside her, he takes a sip of tea, his gaze on her unmoving. Her lips part as she blows gently, the steam rising from the cup in lazy strokes. Jungkook’s heartbeat quickens when she matches his stare with her deep dark eyes that seem to look for something in his.

“This tea has honey, but I doubt it’s the real kind you mentioned, but I still think it’s good.” He clears his throat, looking away as he adjusts his glasses on his nose bridge.

“I like your glasses. I wanted to say that earlier,” Rei comments, taking a sip of her tea, “I don't know why I didn't say anything.” She moves around in her seat, tucking her legs beneath her, then asks, “Can I wear them? Are they prescription?”

“They’re just reading glasses. You can wear them. I put them on sometimes just because they suit me,” he pulls his glasses off, wipes the lenses on his shirt, and hands them over.

“Ah, so you like how they look on you,” she says, her eyes gleaming as she takes the glasses from him and sets them on her face. “How do they look?”

If he were a cartoon character from one of his comics, he’d have melted into a puddle, exploded like dynamite, turned into stardust, and returned to his original self. Except, she’s a real person just like he is, flesh and blood and so beautiful, and he’s off in space being reborn.

“Look at me,” he motions for her to turn his way. She looks straight at him, wearing his glasses and blushing at his attention. She begins to unfold in front of him, her playful demeanor softening. “You look pretty. If they weren't my prescription, I would give them to you.”

“Here, they’re hurting my eyes,” she says, laughing. She removes the glasses and starts rubbing her eyes with closed fists. “You’re sweet, though. I couldn't take a guy’s glasses. How will he go on drinking his tea and letting me in to watch the stars?”

Jungkook feels a warmth spread in his chest. God, how is she real? He runs his fingers through his long hair and coughs once, then again. His nerves are getting to him. She’s too close to him, her bare thigh soft against his leg. He begins to count backward in his head.

“Were you really awake already, or did I wake you?” She asks him all of a sudden. Her eyes stay on him as if waiting for him to say something else.

“You don’t believe me? I was awake. Swear.” He raises his free hand at his side.

She appears to mull that over for a bit, bringing her cup of tea to her lips but not taking a sip. “What were you doing?”

Jungkook is silent, and she sits unmoving until he speaks.

What was I doing? Besides dreading another deadline? Thinking about a comic I might not submit or thinking about not having a shot in hell with a girl like you? Images of the times they’ve run into each other flick by in his head like a slow PowerPoint slide. The registration office, desolate stairwells, crowded evacuations, elevators closing, Rei standing in front of him in a summer dress with a strange look on her face; Rei on his back patio, hunched over with a phone near her face; Rei in his apartment, on his couch, next to him. He feels the adam’s apple in his throat rising and falling. He’s been quiet for who knows how long.

“Thinking, I guess.” He breathes out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I don’t know why I took so long to say that. It sounded boring in my head, so I had to think if there was something else I forgot about.”

“That is pretty boring, just thinking. But that’s life, though, isn’t it? Kind of boring sometimes.”

Jungkook nods, blushing and avoiding looking at her. What if she can read minds? He straightens his posture and runs his fingers through his hair again, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of carved-out stars. It’s OK. It’s OK. She’s still here.

The living room is almost dead silent. Jungkook notices how Rei sips her tea and looks over the area. It’s neat, for the most part. Bam’s toys lay scattered near the laundry room entrance, along with some of Jungkook’s dirty socks the dog likes to chew on, and Bam’s food bowls are resting up against the wall beside his doghouse. The potted plants Namjoon gifted Jungkook are still alive and pop against the beige coloring of the walls in front of them. The TV is massive, his Playstation console resting on its side. Her eyes find the corner shelf where Jungkook’s Marvel figurines are on display behind glass doors, and she turns to look at him with a sparkle in her wide eyes. “Are those yours?” She gestures with her thumb. He nods, chewing his lower lip anxiously. “Can I look?” She rises from her seat when he motions for her to go on. Like standing in a museum, she silently peers into the display with her hands clasped behind her back.

“I just got that case a few days ago when I got that plant next to you,” Jungkook remarks, joining her.

“I remember,” she says distractedly.

“You remember?” His eyebrows raise, and he looks at her fixedly, bringing a fingernail to his mouth. He scrunches his eyebrows, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers; he remembers, too.

He’d bumped into Rei on his way upstairs, both arms holding the bonsai trees obstructing his view, taking long strides up the stairs, chanting to himself and grunting in rhythm. He was on the 50th stair.

“Hey!” A voice shouted at him. “What the hell?”

Jerking to the side of the staircase, flattening against it, Jungkook jumped at this voice. “Sorry! You’re okay?”

The voice struck him as familiar, but mostly, he was surprised he wasn't alone on the staircase. The person laughed a lively laugh, and he felt his chest tighten. He lowered the plants, meeting her eyes. “I’m okay,” she said, shaking her head. She grinned at him, and his heart gave a squeeze. “These things happen. I should take the elevator next time.”

“The plants, I mean. You walked past me going up the stairs and hit me on the head with it.” She glances to her right, catching his eyes briefly. He groans, nodding lightly. She continues, voicing their shared memory, “You were carrying two pots of plants that day and lost your balance or something like that.”

He nods with his eyes closed, his eyebrows drawn close together as he tongues his cheek. “I remember, too,” he opens his eyes to look over at her as he continues, “sorry again. My friend told me not to do that, and I didn’t listen.”

A Spiderman figurine holds her attention, and she’s smiling. He feels his cheeks burn at her sincere gesture. She pretends not to notice and says, “You like running into me like that, then?”

“Like how? It was an accident,” Jungkook says, standing beside her and stretching his arms behind his head.

“Riiiiight,” she says, smirking. “Accident.”

“I didn’t know you were in the stairwell. No one takes the stairs,” Jungkook counters, his voice taking on a defensive edge.

“I take the stairs, I like the exercise, and it’s less embarrassing for me,” She admits. “Running in front of people just looks so stupid. I get too worked up about it and think people are just laughing at me, and they might be, but this way, I can do it in private.”

“Running across the street when cars let you pass is very embarrassing for no reason,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “And okay, fair. I took the stairs that time just because the wait for the elevator was so long. I didn’t mean to hit you that time either.”

“Jungkook, we have to stop meeting like this.” She gives her head a light shake and looks down at her hands. She picks at the glitter on her nails distractedly. “So many accidents. We’re too clumsy.”

“I know what you mean. Namjoon told me to leave one of the plants in the lobby, but I was too impatient. I’m like that sometimes.” He can’t seem to stop blushing.

But Jungkook has to agree. There have been too many accidents in their run-ins with each other, and he remembers each encounter with extreme detail.

Jungkook saw her for the first time when he moved in and face-planted into her back as she stood by the entrance of the registration office. But it didn't happen right away, at least.

The office was big and bustling with sounds. Jungkook walked in, asked out loud if there was a line, and someone nearby replied that yes, there was a line, and he was right at the tail of it. He bounced on the heels of his feet, humming a melody to himself, tapping his fingers against the sides of his legs. A TV across from him played a K-Pop music video of a group he’d never heard of. Beneath the TV was a table with a Terra Kaffe espresso machine accompanied by a spread of dan-pat bbang, songpyeon, bingsu, and reusable cups. His stomach grumbled, but he kept still, willing himself to look away.

Rei stood in line, a foot or two in front of Jungkook, sporting her hair pulled back, secured neatly with a clip the shape of a butterfly. She wore casual clothing: a black long-sleeve sweatshirt, baggy pants, and white Nike shoes. She had earbuds in, and he could hear the muffled sounds of a guitar, and though he did not fully understand why, he smiled.

“Next in line, please,” a woman behind a glass window called out, taking an uninspired sip of her iced coffee as she waved a hand toward her. “Come on, next in line.”

Jungkook wore a black t-shirt, navy plaid bottoms, and socks with slides, though standing there, he began to regret his attire. His eyes looked over the office, and mentally, he tallied the number of girls he spotted. Nine. He felt his cheeks warming up, his neck growing hot, and when he looked over to his right, a girl waved at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He blushed, nodding at her. Why hadn’t he worn something nicer?

He was adjusting his sock, balancing on his right leg, when a dog ran past him, toppling him over. He hopped on his right leg, his arms flailing at his sides, and his face instantly smashed into Rei’s back. If he had a chance to do it over, he wouldn’t have cried out so loud. Even now, months later, he cringes at the memory. He’d turned away, cupping his aching nose after she whipped her head over her shoulder at the sudden impact. Their eyes met briefly, her pupils dark and wide; she mouthed something to him, his ears ringing, all of the sounds around him muddled into incoherence.

“I’m so sorry. Excuse me,” Jungkook mumbled, turning at his heel and speed-walking past a group of girls that giggled when he passed them.

Jungkook thought about her all day after that first day. While he unpacked, walked Bam, and cooked for himself later in the evening. She was pretty, sure, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t break apart and understand— it was new and brought on a strange sensation and desire to know her. He didn't know it then, but he’d see so much of her it would become nearly impossible not to think of her.

And here they are, five months later.

“You agree, don't you?” Rei prods. “Maybe you’re the clumsy one, Jungkook. I was just standing there.” She says that like she knows what he’s thinking. That first day they saw each other. She’s thought of it too.

He swoons at the sound of his name escaping her lips again. “Jungkook,” he mouths, taking it in—not wanting to forget how it sounds when she says it.

She turns on her heel, returning to the couch and fetching her phone from between the cushions. Her backside faces Jungkook, and he shyly lowers his gaze when he catches a glimpse of her ass in shorts that do a poor job of hiding anything. “I’m impatient too, as you know now,” she offers, looking down at her phone, her face illuminated with the screen's glow. She reads something and has a serious look on her face. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

He squints at the clock on the stove. 4:27. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replies, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Your figures are cool, by the way. They look like the real deal. Are they?”

He nods silently, tonguing his lip ring. Jungkook watches her with a gut-wrenching desire to step forward and take her face into his hands and kiss her.

“You’re a Marvel geek. I'm guessing,” she says, staring down at the ground. It’s like she’s suddenly shy. Her voice is quieter. “I like some of the movies. I saw the new Spider-man with my friends last week. I’m late, I know.”

“I have Disney plus,” Jungkook says, his eyes looking her over. “And I’m not trying to say anything like the ramen stuff, you know, all that stuff people say to each other recently to get together. It’s a real offer.”

Rei laughs, bringing a hand to cover her face. “So you don't want to get together?” She looks at him with a deep intensity in her eyes and smiles coyly, making Jungkook swallow hard.

“I said that, didn't I? That’s not what I meant. It’s just that nowadays, words have different meanings. Let me rephrase-”

She takes a step closer to him, and his chest feels ablaze. She’s so close he can smell the fragrance of her clothing much clearer than before. We use the same detergent.

“I’d like to come by sometime,” she says, her eyes lingering on his hands holding his cup, “for a movie, no ramen.” Now she smiles warmly and takes a step back.

She likes doing this to me. It’s torture.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? You seem nice. I don’t think you’d be a freak, right?”

“Right,” he says, nodding.

“I know we’re technically strangers, but you have a good vibe,” she says, shrugging. “I show up here so late, and you serve me tea. You’re a nice guy.”

“Am I?”

“I think so. Are you?” She quirks up an eyebrow, twitching her lips between a smile and a laugh.

Jungkook smiles at her. He feels his cheeks growing warm. “I am. I don’t know why I challenged you about it.”

“Because you like to flirt with me, I think,” she retorts, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m just a nice guy,” he says as he places his palms  against the kitchen counter for balance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” She glances at her phone screen, reading the time, and Jungkook does the same with the time on the kitchen stove. She's going to leave. I can feel it.

“I guess I should get going…”. Rei looks apologetic for some reason. A pink shade colors her cheeks, and she brings a hand to her forehead and lets out a deep breath as she says, “Kinda hot in here, no?”

Jungkook wants to tell her she doesn't have to go and that he doesn't want her to, but he only offers her a timid smile and looks away, nodding in agreement. “A little. I’ve been feeling it too,” he says, looking at her and catching her eyes.

Should I move now? Is it now? My move? Will she kiss me back?

Still, he brings his cup of tea to his lips as she stores her phone in the pocket of her hoodie, and she pauses as if remembering something. “And why is there a mattress outside?”

He’s drinking his tea and begins to choke. Coughing, his chest on fire, and his throat closing in, Jungkook rushes to double over his sink, and she’s standing behind him with a wrought-up look.

“Are you okay?” She steps closer to him, lightly touching his arm.

Jungkook coughs, clearing his throat; he can feel the blood rushing to his face as his eyes instinctively shed tears. The feeling of her touch on his arm feels like fire. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened. The uh, the mattress?” He looks toward his patio, a panicked look in his eyes behind the tear-stained glasses. He pauses, looking down at the floor. “I have them all over, so I can nap when I feel like it.”

She throws her head back and laughs, not taking him seriously until silence hangs between them. She raises an eyebrow. “Wait, really?” With that, her phone goes off in her pocket, and she reaches for it. “Sorry, one sec.”

He leaves her to talk on the phone with whoever and walks over to pick up Bam’s toys and dirty socks to throw in a hamper. Jungkook can hear the muffled phone conversation a room over, so he hums a song. She speaks in a hushed voice, but he hears his name mentioned.

He coughs before he reappears in the kitchen.

She’s humming to herself, lingering by the door, and his heart squeezes. ‘Don’t go,’ he wants to say. ‘Stay.’

“I should go…” she says, not budging from where she stands, chewing her lower lip, looking at Jungkook through full eyelashes. Almost as if waiting for him to interject, and him, not knowing how to.

“If you want,” Jungkook says. He swallows hard at a lump in his throat. The plead to have her stay pushed down into his chest.

DAMN!! 

A look he can’t decipher takes over her face, and then the next moment, she’s smiling at him, reaching for the doorknob just as he does. They share an embarrassed exchange of looks when their hands touch, and he shakes his head, an anxious chuckle escaping him. His face feels warm as he pulls the door open for her. Rei steps out into the hallway, turns over her shoulder, and raises her hand to wave at him slowly.

Again, he yearns to kiss her and again lacks the courage.

“Bye, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

“Goodnight, Rei,” he replies, leaning on the doorframe, his heart sinking into his stomach.

The next day, Jungkook is cooking for himself. He submitted his comic in the morning and has endlessly replayed last night’s events in his head.

“I should’ve kissed her,” he says to Bam.

Jungkook’s phone pings a few times and is followed by a call. He answers, distracted as he serves himself bibimmyeon and pork belly. He props the phone between his chin and ear, tilting his head comically as he walks back and forward to the table, setting down a steaming bowl of sticky rice. “‘Ey, Namjoon-hyung!…” He drags the chair out from underneath and settles in front of his plate. Jungkook reaches over the table, yanks a paper towel, grabs his chopsticks, and begins digging into the rice. “Wait,” he glances at the clock on the wall. 6:47. “It’s almost seven,” Jungkook says, confused. “Your meeting with the record executive started at six… it ended that quickly?”

Namjoon smiles. “The meeting was quick. I have really good news.” He pauses for effect. He’s in the studio, eyeing the email on screen. “Hold on,” he says, placing the phone on the desk and turning the speaker on.

 Jungkook is chewing his cheek, the chopsticks loosening in his grip. He lets the silence exist for a few seconds, then he rubs the back of his hair, leaning back in his chair, his spare hand fisted over his mouth. “What?” He grumbles into his fist.

“He liked my demo. He had some comments about it but said it would do well. He said everyone else liked it; whatever that means, we’re in. He said we can come in for a group meeting where we introduce the guys, and that way, we can all talk about what we want to do going forward.”

Jungkook is speechless; they’re in. All seven of them. He can’t believe it. He stares wide-eyed at Bam, who tilts his head quizzically. “No way. No way. Is this for real?” Jungkook’s heart is thudding so hard he can see it beneath his shirt.

“I swear, Jungkook. It is.”

“Do the guys know?” Once more, Jungkook meets the eyes of his dog, and he’s smiling so hard he feels his nose scrunch.

“Some of them do, yeah. I was with Jimin earlier.”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook says, bringing his palm over his forehead. Smiling with his eyes crinkling, he feeds himself rice. “Yoongi will be so happy. We all are, you know but him .” Jungkook makes a sound with his teeth. “He’ll be so proud of all of us.”

“I know, I know. Yoongi hasn’t slept well since we first submitted our demos, and when I mentioned I had a meeting with an executive, he grabbed his jacket and took off to the studio. I don’t know what he’s been doing when he comes in, but I know he might cry.”

“I might cry too,” Jungkook admits in a hushed voice.

Namjoon wipes at his eyes, and a silence hangs between them. They’re both sniveling on the receiving end. After Jungkook clears his throat and allows himself another sniffle, he starts eating again.

“What did you make?”

“I have a lot of rice left. I made bibimmyeon and pork belly, but I have some noodles, too, if you want me to make them. Come and eat with me if you’re free. Let’s celebrate.”

“Can I leave my bike outside?” Namjoon asks. Namjoon shuts off the shared laptop in the studio, grabs his puffer jacket and the book he’s been reading, heads over, and flips off the light switch. His phone remains on speaker as he locks the door and shoots a glance down the hallway. From a distance, Yoongi does a quick two-finger salute in passing. Namjoon’s heart gives a squeeze.

Jungkook thinks it over. He’s never seen anyone leave a bike outside. “I don't know, honestly. Bring it to my apartment; it’ll be fine. I have something to tell you, by the way,” he says, referring to the previous night.

“Just saw Yoongi,” Namjoon says, jingling the keys on his finger and making his way out of the building. “I have to tell him, but I think he’s already in his studio locked up. You know how he gets.”

“He won’t let you in,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose and stifling a laugh through a mouthful of steak.

“Exactly. And what is it? I’m bringing my bike, I thought about leaving it chained, but it’ll stress me out.”

“He’s almost done with his demos, Hobi said the other day,” Jungkook replies. “But it’s about her, bro. You won’t believe me.”

Namjoon laughs through the phone. “Mystery-neighbor-crush her, you mean?”

“Neighbor stuff, am I that annoying? Don't answer that. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you; just come in because I have to wash Bam.”

“All right, bro, give me twenty, and I’ll be there.”

Jungkook is sitting across from Namjoon, who raises an eyebrow at him as he chews on his steak. “So she came in here,” he swallows his bite and continues, “was on that couch?” he signals with his chopsticks, “and she went home after that?”

Jungkook nods. The moment he’s been dreading: admitting he chickened out. He’s not proud of himself and debates whether to omit a few things.

“Yeah, what else could’ve happened?” He takes a drink of his water, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze.

“So many things, bro. But, the very least that should have happened is that you got her number or something like that. Did you ask?”

Jungkook is quiet. His cheeks are flushing with heat. He’s chuckling at himself, remembering how he clammed up around her.

“You just let her leave, right? She walked out, thanked you, and you probably made her a tea she didn't drink.” Namjoon is laughing when Jungkook groans and shakes a fist above his head. “Ah, Jungkook!”

“I know!” Jungkook shakes his head. “But I got a name. I got a name; that’s something, isn't it?”

“Well?”

“It’s Rei. I don’t know where she’s from and all that, but that name just suits her, doesn't it?”

“It does, it does. But come on, bro! This girl lives so close!  For starters, she stuck around. She could've just left after explaining herself. Instead, she sat down right where you’re sitting and stayed .” Namjoon feeds himself rice as he shakes his head and continues while he chews, “She looked at you the last time we evacuated; I saw her. And how many times have you bumped into her already? She probably thinks you’re out to get her.”

“I know. I kept thinking the same. I thought: ‘She could've left by now, but she hasn’t. I don’t know, hyung, I just froze. I just kept nodding; it was so stupid.” Jungkook closes his eyes and places his fingertips over his eyelids, shaking his head in lament.

“Not stupid, bro,” Namjoon offers, swallowing his bite. “I’ve seen her around too, and she’s really pretty, but it’s a weird sensation when she’s nearby; it’s like her beauty is different. I don't mean it like I want her now, nothing like that, but it sort of feels like I am stuck too. Like, what can I say right now?”

Jungkook nods, understanding the sentiment. “It knocks the wind out of me sometimes when I see her,” he says, reaching for a napkin. “I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't. It was different being close to her like we were. This girl is killing me, Namjoon-hyung. You said she looked at me?”

Namjoon smiles warmly. “She did, at the evacuation a week ago. Was it a week now?” He wipes at his mouth and looks at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook nods at him. “Well, a week ago, I went out last and caught her looking your way. She had her hand like this,” he brings his hand up to shield his eyes against nothing, “and she was smiling. She didn't see me noticing.”

Jungkook scoots closer. He rests his chin on Namjoon’s knee, looking straight at him until he’s cross-eyed. “At me?” he asks, loving that this happened.

Namjoon shakes his leg free and takes a sip of his water. “I think she likes you. She was looking at you the same way I’ve seen you look at her,” Namjoon reaches for his phone, checks a text, and continues, “so she would’ve been into you. Did she flirt with you?”

Jungkook mulls it over. He doesn't want to read too much into it, but he thinks she did flirt. “I could be wrong, and I’d hate to be wrong,” he says, “but I feel like she was into me, like, actually into me, and I thought about kissing her. Would that have been too forward?”

“Hmm,” Namjoon says as he chews his food. “Maybe. I have to see you two in action, to say. I think you can trust your gut, and if you felt that way, maybe she was giving you those vibes on purpose, you know? Sometimes girls are so forward that it's confusing. Like, ‘am I reading this wrong?’ When the whole time there was only one way to read it.” He gives his head a light shake.

“She was talkative like Yoongi predicted.”

“Oh, was she now?” Namjoon looks surprised. “I sided with Jimin when he said she seemed shy and kind of mean. Not mean, but you know the mean look girls have that makes them look kind of cool?”

Jungkook nods with a mouthful of steak.

“That’s actually interesting that she was talkative. That’s good. I think you’d do bad to get with a shy chick again.”

Jungkook once dated a girl in high school he didn't know how to talk to, and when he meant to break things off, he’d just ignored her for the entire year. She was too shy, too quiet, too reserved. He was everything else but.

“I agree with you on that,” Jungkook says honestly. “Back to Rei, she’s even prettier up close, hyung. I thought I was in a dream, that sounds so cheesy, but it’s true.”

“It was, what, four in the morning?”

“Three. Close to four.”

“Exactly. I would think that's a dream too. Seems like it. Are you sure you’re not messing with me?” Namjoon elbows Jungkook lightly.

“I want her. Is that so pathetic?”

“A little bit,” Namjoon teases, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to a slight pinch. “Like this tiny little space right here is where you live.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he walks into the kitchen for a beer.

“Honestly, Jungkook, I think she likes you back. Pass me the rice. Want some of the steaks?” He shows Jungkook his bowl, and Jungkook accepts, opening his mouth to be fed. “You can feed yourself.”

“Ah,” Jungkook says, mouth agape. “Just one piece.”

Namjoon is feeding Jungkook rice when the doorbell rings. The two exchange bewildered looks, and Jungkook shuffles from the ground, sliding on the flooring with his socks as he peers through the peephole. He falls to the ground as if shot, crouching with a deathly look about him.

Namjoon shifts in his seat on the floor and, stretching his neck, asks Jungkook who it is. Over and over, quietly, he’s asking who’s at the door.

Jungkook doesn't answer until Namjoon stands. He shoots a hand up to grab Namjoon’s sleeve, motioning him to crouch beside him. Whispering, he says, “It’s Rei; what do I do?”

“Get up!”

“I can't. I can't. I don't know what she wants. What if she knows?”

“Knows what? Get up; I’m opening the door in 3, 2,...”

Jungkook stands. He can feel his heart beating viciously, and his hands are sweating. He glares at Namjoon, raising his hand and motioning for a cutthroat. “I’ll kill you,” he mouths as his friend walks away.

Jungkook peers into the peephole and sees her turning away. He pulls back the door quickly, causing her to turn around. She smiles, and he wants her all over again. His relaxed demeanor vanished. “Hey, what’s going on?” are his first words.

Rei laughs, and he can feel himself blushing. He drops his head when he remembers Namjoon is a witness.

“Hey, neighbor,” she says, smiling the same coy smile she lent him last night. She pulls a paper from her pocket, extends it to him, and says, “It’s an invite to my birthday party this weekend; if you don't have any plans, I thought it would be nice to hang out and see you again. I’ll have friends over, and of course, you can bring yours.”

A party? Wait, see me again?? “I will be there. This weekend. I’ll make an appearance.” He stops talking when she laughs. He can feel the blood boiling on his face. What the hell is going on with him? “Sorry, yes, I mean, thank you.” Jungkook can feel Namjoon’s burning gaze behind him—he can picture how his friend stifles a laugh into his fist.

“No problem. Who’s that?” She points inside the apartment.

Namjoon waves when Jungkook turns around to see him standing behind him, a smirk tugging at his lips. Jungkook widens his eyes at him, mouthing for him to stop laughing. Stepping aside for his friend’s introduction, Jungkook signals toward his friend with a swift movement of his hand. “Namjoon, this is Rei. Rei, this is Namjoon, a good friend and gifter of bonsai trees.”

“I’ve seen you, no?” she talks to Namjoon, who nods, flexing his pointer finger, indicating that she has. He’s chewing cheese puffs, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him, silently questioning him: ‘Where did you get those?’ His stare says.

“At the evacuation, I was there.”

“Ah, yes, you had bright green hair like a highlighter pen then.”

He laughs. “That was me, yeah! You were with that girl, the…one with the red hair in pigtails.”

“Ah. That’s right! You have a good memory.” She sounds impressed.

Jungkook tongues his cheek, shaking his head beside them unnoticed.

“You too, you too. Cheese puff?” Namjoon offers a bag of cheese puffs.

“You’re tempting me, but I will have to decline. I just had lunch.”

“Your friend, the one with the pigtails, will she be at this party?”

Namjoon is nervous, but he plays it off well. Only Jungkook can tell.

“I think she can be there,” Rei replies, her eyes shifty and full lips pursing. She seems to think it over, anxiously looking at Jungkook and chewing on her lower lip. It’s as though she’s waiting for Jungkook to glance her way. Only Namjoon is seeing this.

Jungkook is annoyed. They’re talking so easily. He shifts uncomfortably, his fingers gripping the door. He watches how Namjoon chuckles and how she timidly looks down at her hands. The glittery nail polish made his heart feel like a stone in his chest. He wants to interject. But how?

“I’m sure the guys will be free this weekend too; we might celebrate our little accomplishment here sometime soon, so Jungkook can tell you about that and invite you when the time comes, right, Jungkook?”

Jungkook only nods. That’s all he seems to be capable of when she’s around. He feels so strange around her. He feels the same way each time, like he’s coming down with something suddenly. Didn’t it just get so hot out here with the door open like this? He wonders. Is anyone else sweating?

Their voices continue around him. He nods a few times when the conversation shifts toward him, but he feels lightheaded. He wants her so badly.

He doesn’t mean to, but he clears his throat, turning the conversation around him to a simmer.

“So, Jungkook, Namjoon told me he’d come this weekend and bring your other friends. There’s a theme, by the way.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “It’s fairytale-themed!” She raises her arms above her head like a big reveal and holds her pose, awaiting their reaction.

Namjoon laughs, turning away; he says: “I’ll give it good thought! Thank you for the invite, Rei!”

“And you?” She looks at Jungkook.

“Me?” Jungkook swallows hard at a lump in his throat. His brain seems to forget how to form sentences when she’s around.

“Yes, you. Do you have any ideas, JK?” she smiles, lopsided.

Is she flirting with me? Here? Namjoon-hyung! Come back!

“I have to rewatch all of my favorite fairytale movies to have an idea,” he says, bringing a hand to his head. He feels the heat emitting from his forehead. “I’m kidding. I think something cool like Dracula.”

“Is that a fairytale?” She laughs.

“Define a fairytale. Isn’t it just make-believe?”

“You don’t think vampires are real?” She raises an eyebrow at him, but he can tell she’s intentionally giving him a hard time. Her smile is surfacing and betraying her.

“I do, actually. Ah, okay. Give me time. I’ll think of something. What about you? Who are you going as?”

She pretends to think it over even though she already has an idea. “I won’t say; you’ll have to see.”

He’s fully leaning against the doorframe, his foot slipping under him, and he almost falls over. He mutters something to himself, and she’s biting back a laugh. “You want tea or something before you go? If you’re not busy.”

“Ah, I want to say yes, but my friends are upstairs; I just stopped by real quick but thank you.”

He nods. “That’s okay, next time.”

“I’ll catch you two later,” she says, waving.

She turns to walk away, and Jungkook doesn't know what takes over him, but he shouts after her: “Thank you!”

He’s too embarrassed to see if she turns around. He closes the door immediately.

He doesn't even want to look at Namjoon. He stands facing the door for a while, his head hanging low, eyebrows scrunched up in physical anguish. He chews his lip and winces at himself, remembering.

“I said that out loud,” Jungkook says, incredulous with himself.

“You said that out loud,” Namjoon reiterates from somewhere in the room.

Sighing, Jungkook turns over, and flinches at a grape Namjoon tosses at him. His nose scrunching, he catches another grape mid-air and chews noisily. “She wants to know me properly,” he says, with a dreamy air.

“So be her prince charming,” Namjoon jokes, plopping down on his couch, busy on his phone.

“So I will be,” Jungkook says, tilting his head back to look up at his ceiling. She’s up there, walking around, talking to her friends, and he’s beneath her, dreaming of the weekend. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“Let’s go; I need an outfit.”

“Now?”

“Now, get up! Get up!”

“Let me finish my grapes; I just washed them,” Namjoon whines, still not glancing from his phone’s screen.

“Okay, but after, we’ll go.” Jungkook walks into his room, grabs his glasses, and steps back out.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Jungkook nods, biting the corner of his lip distractedly. “Oh, I’m serious.” He reaches for the car keys on the table beside him. “I’ve never been more serious.”

And he is. He’s never been more serious about anything else. He wants Rei, but he wants her to want him, too. He can’t help but feel as though his luck is turning out.

taglist: @vsualitae​

A/N: thank you for being here! I hope those that looked forward to the full first chapter have enjoyed this! It's my first lengthy fic, as I've already stated, so any feedback is greatly appreciated! reblogs, comments, and anything that lets me know you've enjoyed this will make me the happiest writer :') I appreciate you for giving my work a shot <3 Let me know if you'd like a second part, what you liked, etc. I'd love to hear from you, reader >.< until next time!!

[ofmermaidstories]

some bnha thoughts, on this sunny monday morning (or lunchtime, by the time i finish typing sdlkfjdlsk):

💥 got walloped with a return of the post-362 grief, with the latest episode of the anime lmao. unfortunately this means i am currently in my feelies, so thank u for bearing with me as i cycle through them in the form of shitposting. 🥹

💥 speaking of the anime, i’m sad they didn’t adapt one of my favourite panels from 360, where bakugou (or shiggy? it’s never really stated, but tbh i’ve always kinda assumed it’s shiggy imagining it LOL, maybe they both are? a joint moment of horror/delight where everyone knows exactly what’s about to happen 🥹) are imagining bakugou being torn apart by shiggy’s gross giant maggot fingers sdlkjlsdjflksdjf. i mean, i get why bones didn’t adapt it (bc they’re cheapskates and and also bc it is a show for children LMFAOOOO) but it’s a really cool example of how hard hori’s art can go, and also what im chalking up as his secret wish to write a horror story lmaoooo.

🪱🧵 i am biting my nails the closer we get to the end of the manga. chapter 428 was fun—bakugou and todoroki hiding behind iida as iida gently berates their newfound fangirls was so cute, lmao. also the revelation that edgeshot is slowly… regenerating? is….. interesting. i’m disappointed that hori didn’t kill him for a couple of reasons: the first one is my most selfish, and it’s bc i planned on edgeshot being dead for my halloween fic lmfao, now i gotta rework that whole angle. 💀😪 but the second reason is more pressing and that’s bc hori is a COWARD who NEVER kills off ANYONE that has INTERESTING CONSEQUENCES. and also bc he only likes killing off girls 💀 (we’ll circle back to this point). idk, i mean, for as much as i act like the grim reaper and whinge about mha not being depressing enough (lmao), the story that hori’s been writing has always been like, pretty easy to understand. hope connection blah blah blah (i say that lovingly).

HOWEVER,

💚🍵🩸 there are a few deaths i’ve always kinda expected, in the series, with the top of that list being shiggy and dabi. i was like, hopeful toga wouldn’t die, mostly bc i wanted hori to prove me wrong with his GIRL MURDERER AGENDA, but. 💀 cue the clown music, ig. and hey, maybe toga isn’t dead—maybe she’s just in a coma or in prison and ochako’s being emo bc she wants the world to see toga as a teenage girl and not a blood-sucking murdering psycho, and i HOPE that’s the case!!! i do!!!! like, are you seriously going to tell me dabi is somehow still alive (for now, anyways. do NOT come for me, that man got deep fried in the deepest oil vats of McHell!!!!) but toga gets the chop? 😒 like i actually fully expect tenko to come stumbling back (literally!!!) so you cannot tell me you save the dustpile AND the deepfriend mctodo just to axe the blood sucker!!!!! let them all live if ur gonna be a coward about it, hori!!!!! this is what i mean about interesting consequences. 😔 the only consequence we’re getting so far is deku and ochako both kinda 🫤🥺😦ing their way into a confession LOL. i’m being mean—i think the next chapter will be them both confronting their guilt over like, not being able to “save” their villains, and that if we do get a confession of feelies it’ll be something like ochako saying, “i like you deku, and/but i want to be a great hero too, to save people like toga in the future”. 🥹 maybe??? guess we’ll see. 🥺

🌇💀 my pet theory for the vaguely-tenko shaped rando that’s stumbling through the rumble is that it is indeed tenko, and that deku will somehow find him to help him and that’s how deku will get his powers back. and if he doesn’t and hori ends the series with deku being quirkless i will actually, and i mean this very sincerely, stop writing fanfic LMFAOOOO. ok im maybe like, half joking. 😒 but i have never been a fan of the quirkless deku ending and now im getting scared that’s what we’re gonna get!!!!! 😦 in one of his latest interviews, hori mentions something about wanting to strip away labels from people (characters) to see the human underneath them? soooo i guess we’ll just have to trust in him and these next two (TWO) chapters. 🥹

for all my whinging i do like bnha lmao. i whinge because i like it, and tbh i probably wouldn’t change a thing of it. 🥺 all the frustrating gaps—like those perceived consequences i keep getting worked up over the lack of—are what makes it fun to write and read fic for. 🥹 and it’s been fun watching the characters change!!! i was in a bookstore, yesterday, picking up a copy of volume 38 and the girl at the counter and i started talking about the series—the pros and cons of binging it vs keeping up weekly, the change in bakugou’s character and how reading over fics with him and his older characterisation can be kinda hard, now. how scary it was that it’s coming to an end!!! she and i have talked before—when i was buying volume 36 lmao—about whether bakugou could be canonically read as queer vs asexual, and like, idk any other series that has such a mainstream reach that you could have these outside conversations with other people in your day to day, outside of a twitter or tumblr sphere! that’s the power of my hero. and im glad to be here for the ride. and no matter how it ends, it’ll be fun, and worth it. 🥹

[bonefall]

How do you feel about "character joins bloodclan" aus? Im curious about ur thoughts since youre really in tune with the themes of the series but personally i just hate them bc its ALWAYS aimed at 'unfortunate' characters and always ALWAYS ignores the fact that bloodclan is a horrible place in-canon and that they're just reflavoring the abuse and trauma the characters qent through to be more emo or goth themed.

Ravenpaw is ALWAYS a prime target for this and its like. Great. You took the character being abused by their mentor figure and is being harmed from the violent culture the clan has generated... and giving them an EMO mentor figure who will inevitably abuse them and harm them as a result of the violent culture the emo clan has generated. Sasha is another one I've noticed- you've put the woman who lost her kit and is struggling to survive with the others while being controlled and abused by someone who sees her as an outsider (aka alone and easy to isolate), and are gonna put her in a faction who specifically separates kin from one another to easily control them and who have canonically tried murdering those who stick with their family. What was gained here.

Like i know bloodclan is revamped in ur au (thank god for it) but in canon bloodclan is HORRIBLE. People ignore that in favor of putting their favs into bloodclan bc bloodclan is cool and killed tigerstar that one time bc of revenge. Ravenpaw becomes Scourge AUS are SO SO SO much worse bc of this too- sure you manage to point out how scourge and raven has roughly similar stories in their youth but you could also do something interesting and make an au where raven and scourge are FOILS and do a firestar/scourge thing, while pointing this comparison out!! Instead you just went "Ravenpaw emo now and is sad about beating up Firestar his friend" and basically kept everything the same.

Sorry im basically venting here but i just dont like how people forget that scourge in canon does NOT look out for the 'little guy', he's a murderer and abuser who wants to keep his subjects afraid and separated so that he alone has power over them. Bloodclan is not the cool strong goth group, its the group where two cats slaughter eachother over a piece of twoleg scraps, only for the survivor to die bc the food was poisonous to cats and no one knew bc theres no cohesive group that can pass that knowledge around. its a fucking horrible place to live. Im not saying that you cant do interesting "character in bloodclan" aus (a Rusty who lives in bloodclan who STILL wants to do good but is shaped by the horrid reality of bloodclan would be fun imo) but its so often used with already traumatized characters as a 'solution' or 'fix-it with some emotional issues involved' that i just foam at the mouth and howl like a rabid animal on principle at this point.

Hmm... I think for me, it doesn't tend to read that way for me when the fandom makes AUs for it. I'm coming at BloodClan from a point of really deep critique and frustration.

BloodClan's not a REAL place, and what that means is, every speck of how horrible it was is a choice the writers made to justify its treatment. It was something they actively decided, because, BloodClan was a tool to suddenly invalidate the previous 5 books of TPB so that the series could comfortably conclude there was no need to upset the status quo.

If you haven't read it before, I recommend this post I made on how Darkest Hour Is A Personal Disappointment, but anyway;

We spend a whole series on how Fireheart challenges a broken society, because he is different. Their xenophobia, how isolationism and glory get people killed, the way that Tigerstar's greatest asset is how respected he is... these are bad things. They're things that Fireheart fights for several books.

But then, in the LAST book, in the 11th inning, they introduce BloodClan. They're just evil. They have no nuance. The narrative bends over backwards to stress that this group of evil foreigners LOVES murder, hates friendship, and doesn't believe in our good god.

Suddenly, the Clan cats have to be EXTRA xenophobic and glorious to kill these filthy, murderous foreign hordes. Clan cat belief in their good god makes them stronger than the bloodthirsty barbarians. Firestar kills Scourge and we can feel happy and triumphant about it, when Tigerstar was killed a few chapters ago and given a tragic sendoff.

So, I encourage you to step back from an emotional response to how Filthy and Murderous this group was portrayed, and look at it as a writing choice.

When Tigerstar, known cat-racist and murderer of mixed-race people, is killed by Scourge in self-defense, he is grieved by Firestar and commended for his "good qualities". (and then they retconned in that it was actually secretly revenge all along, not just self defense, so this killing is extra evil)

When Scourge is killed, Firestar just thinks about how it's cool he's not going to heaven, and how all of the previously ferocious BloodClan warriors look so inferior to the forest Clans.

And so, with all that said,

I'm 100% in favor of how the fandom widely looks at this, says, "fuck that" and just makes them the Cool Goth Group. I'd argue pretty strongly that the least nuanced idea of that is still infinitely better than canon.

There was nothing there. It was literally just Xenophobia-Is-JustifiedClan. They literally hated love and friendship and banned families so that Clan cats would look good in comparison. Banned families. You don't get this level of stupid evil from anything else but an 80s cartoon.

Maybe I just don't see the AUs you tend to see (I curate my Tumblr experience very well and generally hang out in more adult-oriented spaces, I can imagine a place like Amino being mostly kids who tend to be immature. Edgelord Angstpiddle is just a normal part of growing up), but every project I see that gives me a glimpse of BloodClan Ravenpaws and Sashas come with such tweaks already assumed.

Like, these are examples I've seen,

They'll have Raven be involved with the formation of BloodClan

Scourge will actually be a character with some pity and mercy, like how he was in Rise of Scourge when his abusive siblings begged him for food, and he fed them before sending them away.

no ban on love and friendship. Lol. Lmao, even.

More of the social structure will be based around acquiring food for people in a 'harsh' environment, leading to that battle, instead of just Evil Foreign Greed (which canon!scourge only had after being almost killed by tigerstar, because he said "actually, in light of new information that you are a murderer, i need to reconsider our deal.")

BloodClan will be overhauled completely. I've seen this a few ways. Connecting them to SkyClan, or the Oakstar raids on Chelford, or even as a positive entity; a surprise ally. (VERY common with BloodClan Ravenpaw AUs I've seen).

Anyways... (Shrug), I dunno dude, it doesn't bother me that much.

[ada7201]

ADA ADA ADA <3 pooks i feel so needy asking for one thing after the other but this is the anon that requested ver 2 reader! <3 blud you write so GOOD??? inlove w your writing ong? i read your unohana! reader piece and it was mwah mwah. i was wondering if you could make ver 2 reader, like, who trashtalks people on field and after match-- but is the nicest thing before match? and honestly. she doesn't feel that bad ab it because she feels people in blue lock rlly need a reality check, like her-- she had received so much criticism from her old teammates just bc she was a female footballer. and imagine, a womens football team (elite) offering reader to join their team since she obv cant join mens football team that plays professionally? and rin being a bit disappointed but he gets it bc thats just the way it is? you can do this next time if you want obv!! your writing pooks >> feel free to ignore if u want <3

hiiii ♡♡! i love this idea so muchhh (≧∀≦) here you go, and i apologise if it’s not mean enough 🥲 also, i got a bit carried away and made it a rin x reader story. sorry! oh, and you’re not needy at all! i really appreciate all your requests :)

foul mouth!

Itoshi Rin x female reader

warnings:

swearing! lot’s of it!

“good luck!” you cheer to the opposing team, a sweet smile on your pretty face as you wave.

the rest of your team were strategising with each other, mumbling about being the “best striker” as you were simply wishing everybody the best.

you have always been sweet to everyone at blue lock, kindly telling them that you hopes the match is a good one.

“she’s too much of a princess, no way her and that lame team could beat us!” the opposing team would whisper to each other, looking over to your smiling face.

pfft, you, a striker? no way!

that’s what they thought.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?! get out of my way!” you’d shout, voice bouncing off of the room’s walls.

“you can’t even fucking score?! what’s up with you!” you scream at a teammate, eyes completely shaded with ego as you shot glares to whoever dared to speak back to you.

“you really think you can take it from me?” you grin, before your foot slammed down against the ball, passing it over to Rin.

he was the only player you refrained from shouting insults at.

it was just hard to find things to insult him for, you know?

“i said fucking move!” you bark, shoulder almost slamming into the player as you bolt past them.

it was shocking, really. the way your tone could go from sugary and sweet to fucking evil.

“that was mine!” you scream, shooting another glare to your teammate before running after the ball.

you were a good player, but the things that spilled out of your mouth were absolutely vile!

“you can’t even fucking score?!” you exclaim, eyes wide as you gritted your teeth.

“why are you so stubborn?! it’s not that hard to just-!” you’re able to take the ball from the player, who in your opinion had a strangely shaped face.

“try and beat that, toad!” you poke your tongue out, before your foot crashed down against the ball and you scored, once again.

“toad?” the poor player would repeat, hands on his face. did he really look like a… toad?

team _ wins! 12 - 1!

Rin couldn’t help but smile, you sure were quite an interesting character.

“y/n.” Ego’s dark voice called out from a speaker. “lock off.” he announced.

your eyes went wide - along with the rest of your team.

“WHAT?!” you shout, still feeling the adrenaline from your match. “watch your fucking mouth you bug eyed—“

“you’ve just had an offer to join the woman’s soccer team of japan. i accepted it on your behalf.” he clarifies, scoffing afterwards. “and you, should really watch your fucking mouth.”

“what—?” you say, freezing. it was all too much to take in, you’re locked off… but you got -

“yay!” you shout, excitedly smiling. “i got invited to play… to play on the woman’s team?!” you grin.

the rest of the day went by pretty fast, with a bunch of paperwork and you packing your bags.

Rin should be happy for you, you’re finally able to play with the team that you deserve.

so why are his eyes watering as he watches you pack up and get ready to leave?

“Rin?” you ask, looking up at the man in front of you. “Rin? are you okay?” you quickly stand up, watching the way a tear slipped from his eye.

“i’m - fine.” he says, quickly wiping at his eyes. “i wish you the best, y/n.” he would add.

why was his lip quivering? and why was he…

“are you crying?” you ask, your voice gentle, as it always is with Rin.

he shakes his head.

he kept his eyes focused on anything other than you - wow, did that wall get cleaned last night?

“aw, Rin.” you coo, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him in for a hug. “it’s okay, i’d miss me too.” you tease, only for him to respond with a huff.

however, he still returned the hug. his arms snaked around your waist tightly.

“don’t forget about me, okay?” he says, voice softer than usual. “you have my number.” he adds.

you nod. “i won’t forget about you.”

“oh, but one thing.” he pulls away from the hug, sharp eyes staring you down. “you should really work on that mouth of yours—“

he was cut off by a kiss.

“the same mouth that just kissed you?” you ask after pulling away, a grin on your face.

“…i’m washing my face after this.”

“excuse me?!”

“kidding.”

[ganondoodle]

so i sort of half accidentally did the end of totk on monday, i had over 130 hours and slightly over 50% of the game done and did the second to last fight with 3 hearts left and no way to heal but fairies after i gave up multiple times thinking the game might be trying to force me to fight a certain way xD

so im still playing it and am aiming for the 100% but i dont think theres gonna be much more to discover story wise the game is really fun and has a lot of detail and love put into it that you can really see, the music is fantastic as well, some of the characters get more love which is great but the story is … well disappointing but not surprising, especially in its treatment of ganondorf, who still feels incredibly flat as a character, which was to be expected but also … you cant fault people (including me) for faintly hoping theyd do something more interesting tho i will say the end fight is really well done and i cant think of a way to top that in terms of epicness xD

anyway, some unfiltered thoughts and opinions in no particular order (keep in mind i know its viddy game logic uwu but still some things can really destroy the immersion; and also i like to think too hard about the stuff i care about so take this with a grain of salt, i never expected the story to be world changing but i want to remind you that i am criticizing it bc i love this franchise)

--what the hell happened to all the sheikah tech?? botws story gets mentioned a few times but never is it mentioned what happened to all the tons of tech lying around everywhere? if they dismantled the towers for purah to build her new ones around i guess thats fine, but all the srhines? the titans ??? THE SHRINE OF LIFE??? its all gone, esepcially the shrine of life irks me bc the cave is still there and its still called by its bame but its nothing but a cave in a vague shape of how the buidling was it absolutely drives me crazy bc its so dumb?? even if it all stopped working for some reason why would you dismantled it all and even then where did the material go?? why would you dismanlted an neitre building like that anyway?? if you want to have a cave there just have it be half collapsed, if all sheikah tech has gotten useless just leave it there but overgrown?? and why is all of purahs tech still working then? zelda doesnt seem to care about it anymore either even tho shes been so obsessed with it for so long? the titans how would you even MOVE them?? you CANNOT tell me that all this tech that survived tens of thousands of years just went poof within a few years; and sometimes it even feels .. insulting? like you know how much robelo cared for cherry and now shes tiny and just serves as a way to buy fotos for your collection? the fact that the shrine of life is fully gone but the cave is vaguely shaped like its interior and where the bed used to be is a healing pool of water too? like idk if im just insane but it feels like 'haha lol remember what used to be here? get it? the water heals you like the bed in the shrine of life and lol there was the stairs HAHA remember? its gone now for no reason.lmao.' to be clear i like having some mysteries and all but that is just …. so weird? when i discovered the shrine of life i was so taken aback i didnt know what to do, it really broke my immersion, by alot even, it just makes it feel even more like all sheikah tech was replaced by much cooler (tm) sonau tech

--what happend to the sonau people? we only know that rauru and mineru are the last two remaining ones back then but … what made them die out like that? this is by far not as important to me as the issue with the sheikah tech but still feels like a point that could have been mentioned

--as much as i like the open world and how free you are to do things your own way but, regardign the dragon tears i think they should have been locked more behind story progression, i got all of them rather early on and it made it a lil frustrating to play through the other story parts bc you know the truth but you cant tell anyone and everyone around you is acting like a dumbass running after fake zelda while the real one is floating around above you, and i know thats partly my fault for getting them all so early but it still felt like some could have been more well hidden or locked or something since theres no hint to when it would fit to do which one; i expecpted impa to travel to each one but it seemed like she appeared on only a few here and there- additionally i fully expected her to be more important, that she would have an actual involment trying to help zelda undragonfy but that turned out to be very wrong lmao

--why are the enemies in the underground mining sonanium? ganondorf didnt seem itnerested at all in any of their tech, only in the mystery stones (only one too, he didnt seem to want any more of them either) they dont use it for anything? at least the ones on the surface collected stuff they could eat or use for fighting?

--did mineru really build herself a robot body just to fight ganondorf for a bit and then leave? as the last of the sonau, even tho long dead too, why wouldnt she tell their history and knowledge or something and instead if just helping a lil in the fight and then go poof (i half expected purah to be a surprise sage since the spirit one would have fit her i think)

--the zelda being the white dragon plot point lost alot of weight to me when it was just .. resolved like that in the end, i know she spent thousands of years like that and all but it seemed like a much heavier decision that later on felt a little less flat after fidning mineru even tho i felt like i didnt care at all at first bc of the way i found out ,and i half expected there to be an extra mission to try and find her soul again since that apparently gets lost when you do the whole dragon thing, but in the end that wasnt a problem at all, two ghosts and link (somehow naked again) blasting her with some magic(tm) and boom shes back and well and fine woohoo it was a non problem after all i didnt expect her to stay dragon since that would mean the end of the legend of zelda basically, but still it took away alot of the weight of her decision to me? like i get undragonfying her before the end would be difficult since you can get material off of her but still i hoped for something other than boom it resolved itself and i thoguht and worried about it for nothing honestly a post game or even another title where the main focus wouldnt be desstroying yet anyother one note evilest guy of them all and isntead the goal is to bring zeldas soul back and undragon her or something would have been a cool idea tbh tho i know its unrealistic

--did ganondorf think turning himself into a dragon would end the world somehow? did he mean the lil evil goo clouds he spit at you in the last fight to end the world? and how come that he was vunerable to fight? none of the other dragons could be hurt and for an 'immortal' dragon he sure went down fast also how did the stone get back on his forehead? you need to eat it to dragonfy yourself and zelda doesnt have her stone out either (i know viddy games logic but still) (on another note, gan shoving half his arm in his own mouth felt really cursed to watch)

--into WHAT exactly wanted gan to reshape the world into?? only destroying it is such a non reason if you want to rule it? theres nothing left to rule if you kill everything in it?? he just gonna play cards with some bokblins or what -i really wanted to fight ganondorf on the surface, not in his lil miasma incubation cave again :(

--so …. why he evil? are we really doing the and WHOOP suddendnly theres the eviliest guy of the world and he hates your guts for some reason thing again? no tension with the gerudo that seemed to follow him in the lil cutscene we see and the ones that went on raurus side? no actual origin? does he have ANYONE to talk to normally or did he just surround himself by monsters all the time or abadon everyone that once followed him once he got his power up?? you can make any design or fight as good as it can possibly be but in the end its still gonna feel hollow if the character has no character besides evil even the fake zelda wasnt actually him and just a lil puppet made of miasma so even him fucking with people is a little less interesting when he was actually just marinading in his lil goop cave, and the lil hand wink he gives you at phase two can only do so much lmao

--ganondorf is cool and all, but tbh he feels more like the evil miasma goop guy than anything else --why are the old sonau ruins in hyrule so different from the rest? like we know now that they arent actually a civilization from the sky alone but were even in the underground too, and all of their ruins have that blocky white style to it, the supposedly sonau ruins in phirone for example, albeit they share the dragon theme the style on the outside is very much different? and the ancient ruins from the other races dont match it either --are the sheikah descendants of the mixing of sonau and hylians? the white hair and third eye theme would fit to the only alive sonaus we see having white hair (fur?), the literal third eye and their affinity to techonology similar to the sheikah, and zelda having both light and time powers would make sense if its yet another descendant thing, but that would mean zelda was at least part sheikah .. (ngl white haired zelda might look pretty neat actually) but also … it didnt seem like sonia and rauru have been together all that long and no mention or even hint to them having children … which given that both of them die would be an important thing to mention no?

--why cant you do anything with the dongos but feed them????????? i wanna ride them :(

--where is kashiwa????????????????? they talk about him like hes a lost legend

--putting in all the amiibo stuff is cool and annoying at the same time, i spent 5 hours fighting my way throguh the underground to follow treasure maps and found 3 nigh identcal link hats from past games in a row, then two other parts of similar, then two aiimbo weapons and then jsut yesterday another one from a bigger quest that i expected more of; getting the armor sets of past games is cool if you want them but if i did i would have just gotten the amiibos back in botw, my inevntory already feels super bloated with all the new and old armor sets and now the amiibo stuff as well even tho i have like .. half of it all atm (and dont go and argue 'oh so complaining about more content for free???' yes. yes i am.)

--whats with this game and making link almost naked? rauru saving you from death? naked. (annoying) survival shrines? naked. weird teleport to alternate ghost dimension to blast zelda with magic power tm to solve all problems? naked.

--(added in edit) im glad dorephan didnt die!! i fully expected him to have died offscreen or something to make way for everyones favorite fish

--(added in edit) so are definitely other lands besides hyrule if yona came from there, also lol

--the story feels, espeically once you see the last cutscene, very …. uncomfortable to me if dare to think about it more than just taking everythign as its said to you, like … the oh so perfect descednants of the gods(what) marry a normal hylian lady and sourround themselves with perfetly obedient faceless servants of the other races so the perfect and good kingdom tm is born and oh suddendly theres an evil brown man (makign him grey doesnt change the implications, if anything, it makes it worse bc they wont even stand for it and instead are trying to hide it behind uuuuh no no its fine hes blue actally kinda way) from the desert that attacks the perfect good kingdom and king, then he swears alliance to them only to betray and murder da queen right away to get his hands on a super power the perfect and good king held and would have never never used it in a bad way nono and now they need to defend it by all means and at the end woohoo zelda has now again the perfect kingdom with no opposition except the yiga who are (as much as i love them) mostly played for laughs or .. well, evil(tm) as epic and cool the dragon fight was, zelda being the slim tiny white/gold/blue dragon and ganondorf being the evil spiky big black and red dragon and them literally being called white/black dragon feels like wow they arent even trying to hide the black and white storytelling huh (i know its a design trope to the bad be black(color) and the good anything else and spiky vs round and soft blah blah but that doesnt make it any better .. maybe even worse? idk)

the way nintendy was keeping stuff a secret and hinting around so much made me feel like it would finally be a little more nuanced and then it turned out to be even flatter than before and all that secrecy(?) was only to keep dragon zelda plotpoint a secret, something that was resolved no problem in the end anyway (i didnt need zelda to stay dragon but .. it all just lost so much weight the way it was done at the end)

-- (added in edit) master koga is the best character and no one can beat him, the most joy i felt was seeing him again and i am not joking, i wish i could talk to him normally tho without him being able to see through my yiga disguise :( im so glad he didnt die tho bc if he actually went to gan he would 100% be dead within seconds

--(added in edit2) i forgot to mention but was just reminded that link getting his arm back felt super weird too, so really everything that meant major changes got reversed basically ... coool ...back to status quo i guess, couldnt he if he wasnt missing it at least have it be discolored somehow? or scarred? any reminder? zelda too even, could she also have some sort of scar or similar due to her transformation ??

--(added in edit2) so where did the mystery stones even come from? gans and zeldas are gone after dragonfying i guess so ...what?

so in summary, im not eloquent enough to properly analyse all the problematic/questionable stuff and put it into the right words, but these are my random thoughts just spilled out, theres gonna be things i missed, forgot, or gonna think about later, maybe ill add it maybe not

again take it with a grain of salt, the game is still one of the most fun games i have ever played, my problems with it lie majorly in the story, its still very much worth playing!

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VIII: Bigger Than The Whole Sky

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

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

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 11,5k words

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

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

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

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

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

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

“Where are your sisters?”

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

“YOUR SISTERS, WHERE ARE THEY?” 

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go get our daughters.”

“You stay with your brother.”

“No, dad, I want to go with you.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“No, dad…”

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

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

“Neteyam, wait uuup!”

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

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

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

“You caught me.” 

“Woah! What is this place?” 

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

“It’s heaven!!” 

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

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

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

“So, maybe Heaven is where Eywa is?”

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

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

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

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

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

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

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

Kalin? Brother? 

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

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

“What’s feminism?”

“What do I know? I’m six.”

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

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

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

“DADDY! YOU’RE HERE!” 

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

“WE MISSED YOU, DAD!” 

No. No. No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

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

“Parultsyìp! (Children!)” 

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

“Neteyam?”

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

“Atan!” 

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan.”

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

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

“Tell me what to do.”

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

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

“I did it!” 

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

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

“Neteyam, stop.” 

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

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

“Neteyam, why are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“No… it can’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Kids… Our kids… you saw our kids?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is happening?” 

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

“Atan, what is happening?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I think you have, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s alright, you’re ok. We’re ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he…?” 

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

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

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

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

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

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

“How long have I been out?”

“About a day?” 

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

“How is he?”

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

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

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

“He’s in a hypoxic-ischaemic coma.” 

“W-what does that mean?” 

You gulped loudly before you answered Jake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So these are our kids, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Atan… that is her name.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you'll be drowned

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

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

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

“How is he?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say that. He’ll wake up.” 

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

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

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

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

“Did Jake and Neytiri go get my dad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go, kid. We can clean him up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You started it.” 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But his body is still.”

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s awake. She’s awake.” 

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

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

“You… You passed out, kid.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey… you had a miscarriage.” 

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

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

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

[dotsartspot]

Aight maybe an unpopular opinion but i have to say it bc i feel like i’m going insane??? I just don’t understand why people are so insistent on seeing this season as a black and white scenario in regards to TRG and especially Kipperlily.

First of all I have zero beef with this season. Dimension 20 has never once claimed to be on the same level of narrative seriousness as a show like Critical Role. D20 is a full comedy show on a streaming platform that posts almost exclusively comedic content. I get that people are disappointed and I understand why and it’s fair but it also just seems a little… i guess odd is the word I’ll use, to be so upset about feeling like the message fell flat or that the bad kids were rewarded for being assholes or what have you when Dimension 20, first and foremost, is a comedy show done by professional improv comedians. These comedians have also fully stated on record that emotionally heavy seasons are really rough for them. That’s the whole reason why they haven’t done a second Crown of Candy with the full cast of Intrepid Heroes. Their lack of making this season super emotionally impactful is probably simply bc despite the overarching message that was setup, they didn’t WANT it to be more serious than that.

And the second issue I have with complaints i’m seeing is the way people are coddling Kipperlily. I get she was manipulated I get that it’s tragic its part of why her character is so good but also hey guys can we please stop pretending like the kid who willingly became a pawn of a man trying to become a war god is fully innocent in her own downfall? Can we stop pretending like emotional distress, especially when it’s fueled by so much bitter jealousy towards someone who has truly done nothing to you, is any sort of justification for her actions? She’s the only one who joined them willingly. I’m not saying she wasn’t manipulated and that her story isn’t tragic but she wasn’t a GOOD person. She was a fucked up teenager who decided her sadness was more important than everyone else in the world and then actively aided a plan that would cause direct harm to innocent people who did not affect her in the slightest. Redemption is real and second chances are worth giving but not everyone is worth giving it to and i know some people think that’s such an awful thing to say but as much as they think it’s so awful that doesn’t stop it from being true. EVERYONE has their battles. EVERYONE is messed up in some way shape or form, that’s just the reality of the world. But not everyone who has trauma is an asshole. Because despite whatever pain you may have, you yourself ultimately decide what you’re going to do with it and how you’ll respond to your own ugly negativity towards others. And imho people who choose to take their pain and wield it as a weapon against people who have done nothing wrong are not always worth talking off the ledge. Sometimes these people don’t WANT to be better, they just want their behavior to be justified. Sometimes they take your attempts to reach out a hand to try to drown you instead, or just fully drown you with them. Sometimes people aren’t willing to put in the work to make themselves better, and you can extend all the hands in the world but if that person does not WANT to get better, they simply never will.

[givemea-dam-break]

Lovely, that's what I hoped to hear🩷 absolutely love the stuff of yours that I have read so far, and I'll definitely read the test when I have time, but in the meantime i'm gonna leave this request: a george x reader, somewhat inspired by the "Flower" oneshot you wrote for Lockwood. I'm thinking they go to the Fittes Ball, and the reader goes shopping with lucy for dresses. And I'd love some flustered George who is just wholly overwhelmed by reader who is all dolled up in a pretty dress. And here you can maybe include some locklyle? Like Lockwood showering Lucy in compliments and being charming and confident as usual and reader hoped for a similar reaction from George but he just kinda says nothing bc he doesn't know how to handle himself. And they go to the ball and while lucy and lockwood go off to retrieve the book, reader and george just are kinda awkward until some guy (or someone we know, kipps or someone) comes up to reader and asks her to dance. And she jist goes with him bc while she is disappointed with georges reaction she is still determined to enjoy the evening. And maybe when they are about to leave George wants to get her and she dismisses it and says she's having a good time and she's coming home later. And when she comes home george is still awake and waiting for her in the kitchen and they have a little fight and some confessions 👀

Let me know if you like that idea! And thank you in advance if you decide to write it🩷

a/n: i love this idea so much!!! it’s going to go a little differently due to the fact that after the fittes ball, they have to go get the mirror, but i hope this has turned out ok as i've cut out a big chunk of the actual story to keep this moving lol. strap in because this is a long one <3 also can i just appreciate your username i love it

warnings: angst, mild language gn reader

"Best friends have correlating dresses. It's law, basically."

Lucy laughs at you, flicking through the dresses on the rack. "Is that so? I have to admit, I'm not great when it comes to clothes. You just pick for me."

Grinning, you show her the dress you've already picked out for her. It's simple, made of royal blue satin with flowy sleeves that bunch at the wrists, and it falls to what would be about mid-thigh. Lucy doesn't look entirely convinced, but when you show her the pair of sparkly tights, she smiles.

"It's part of the Lucy flair," you explain. "I have a pair of boots you can borrow to go with. I have the image in my mind."

"Alright, then," she says, taking the dress and tights from you. "What are you going to wear, Fashion Expert?"

"Hmm." You tap your finger on your lip before selecting a dress from the rack. Red, also satin, with fluttery capped sleeves and thin gold stitching in the shape of flowers at the hem. "What do you think? Red and blue - pretty iconic"

As you expected, Lucy shrugs. "You'll look pretty in it. You look pretty in everything."

"Thanks," you laugh. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Who, George? I'm sure he will. Whether he tells you that is another story entirely."

"True."

The sad truth, really. As you both go up to the counter and purchase the dresses, you can only hope - dream, more like - that George will come out of his shell a little. He's not overly keen on the fact that he's coming to the Fittes Ball, but he agreed a little more easily when you said you could stick with him on the outskirts while Lockwood charms people until his socks blow off. You can't blame him for not wanting to come. He doesn't like people, really, and his thing is staying at home and sticking his nose in a book. If you guys weren't going to infiltrate the Black Library at Fittes for this book by Mary Dulac, he wouldn't be going at all, even with your promise.

On the walk back to Portland Row, you keep yourself talking, if only to keep the nerves away. If you're being honest, the whole prospect of breaking into Penelope Fittes' private library and stealing a book isn't what's making you sweat. It's the thought of George seeing you in a dress.

Most days are spent in pyjamas or your work clothes. There's nothing overly special about your faded jeans or ectoplasm-spotted jacket, not even your sturdy boots that you spent time making little embroidered patterns on. George has seen you at your worst - hair frizzed from sleep, crumbs left on your T-shirt, wearing socks with far too many holes in them, so the thought of dressing up for a special occasion makes you a little nervous. Will he think you look nice?

Lucy would scoff if you asked her that question. She'd say that you don't need a boy to find you pretty to be worth anything.

But George isn't just a boy. Not to you, anyways. He's much more than that.

The better part of the afternoon is spent getting ready. You fix Lucy up with a pair of your nicer boots and sit her down to put some makeup on her, for which she doesn't stay very still. Yeah, immediately after you're all going to go on a heist and steal back a very important mirror, but who's to say you both can't look good doing it?

George and Lockwood come in shortly after you've finished your own makeup, as well as styling yours and Lucy's hair, and you stop short, watching for George's reaction.

He's dressed in a nice black suit, with a white shirt and orange tie, and his hair is slightly neater than usual, but it suits him. Your heart flutters a little looking at him.

Lockwood, for his part, looks completely wonderstruck by Lucy, who watches him carefully. The tips of her ears are tinged pink.

"Luce, you look -" He clears his throat, and you hold back a smile. "You look great. Amazing, actually."

She presses her lips together, but you can see the smile tugging at the corners. "Thanks."

"Uh, I have something for you, if you'll accept it." From his pocket, he pulls out a thin silver chain on which a small gem glitters. "It belonged to someone close to me. I'd like for you to wear it."

Lucy takes it with gentle hands. "What if I lose it?"

"You have a pretty good track record with precious necklaces."

She laughs at that, looking over at you. You smile as you fasten the necklace around her neck. "Thank you, Lockwood."

His grin is confident, clearly bolstered by the fact that she accepted his gift. He keeps looking between her face and the glittering necklace.

Silence ensues, and your gaze travels over to George. He's standing there, staring at you with those gorgeous dark eyes of his, and for a moment, your heart feels like it's going to explode. You wonder what he'll say, if he likes the dress or not.

"I'll go check on the cab," he says before darting out of the room.

And, just like that, every piece of confidence you had dissipates and it feels as if you're a balloon with a hole poked in the side, slowly deflating. You should've expected it, really. George isn't the complimenting type, but you liked to hope that for once he might say something.

Swallowing your embarrassment at your failed hopes down, you plaster on a smile and turn to Lucy and Lockwood. "You're right, Lockwood. She does look amazing, doesn't she? Blue's her colour." You give a pointed look at the blue tie he wears, and notice he's even wearing blue socks.

The little detail makes you happy for Lucy, truly, but it doesn't make the hurt any less painful.

Lockwood smiles, but Lucy's quick to notice the expression hidden under your smile.

"Come on," she says. "We better get going."

--

The Fittes compound is bustling with people - wealthy socialites, young agents, supervisors, everyone dressed up in fancy clothes, sparkling in the twinkling lights. Music plays from every corner of the massive room in which the Ball is located, packed to the brim with people. Waiters breeze by with trays holding drinks and food. Lockwood plucks a flute of some sort of drink from a passing plate.

"Shall we make the rounds?"

Lucy groans. "Posh people and small talk. The worst form of torture."

George makes a sound of agreement but doesn't speak. Beside him, you shuffle awkwardly, clasping your hands behind your back.

"Plan still the same as earlier?" you ask Lockwood. "You and Lucy find the book while me and George stay to - what was it you said?"

"Mingle," Lucy says in a mocking tone. You've half a mind to believe she's done it to make you laugh.

"Just keep the attention off of our absence," Lockwood says. "Kipps probably expects the worst of us tonight."

"He asked you to this, didn't he?" Lucy asks you. "Won't be much of a problem to keep him distracted. Just dance with him or something."

Tension snaps in the air. Beside you, George doesn't say anything but his hands twitch a little bit.

You shrug. "Probably won't dance with anyone tonight. But I'll make conversation. I'm good at that."

Soon, Lucy and Lockwood split off from you and George. The two of you slowly drift towards the edge of the party, out of the tightly packed crowd of old people with expensive-smelling perfume and cologne. Once or twice, you almost choke on the strong scent.

George keeps close to the wall, watching the crowd carefully, while you stand a foot or two away, arms crossed over your stomach.

Truthfully, you'd love to be dancing. It's not so much about the party or even the music, but who you'd like to be dancing with and how it'd probably be the only time you ever get to do anything remotely like it with him. But here you stand, staring out at the few couples with the bustle that are shuffling together, grinning.

"Thanks for coming tonight," you say to George, trying to make conversation. Usually, it comes easily, and you can find anything to speak to him about, but it's strained now. "I'm not sure I'd be a great distraction on my own."

George shifts slightly. "I'm not sure about that. You've got a fan coming over now."

You try to ignore the hint of irritation in his voice. He's allowed to be irritated - about coming to the party, at least. This really isn't his scene. But if he's mad that someone else asked you to go with them, he's got no right. He's made no effort.

But, he's right about one thing. Quill Kipps is making a bee-line right for you.

"(name)," he says upon reaching you. "Karim. Where are the other two?"

Plastering on a sweet smile, you say, "It's Lucy and Lockwood. They've been making mooney eyes at each other a lot recently. I wouldn't be surprised if they're off dancing somewhere."

"And what about you? I can't imagine that you like just standing on the outskirts of the party."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do, Kipps," you say. "In fact, I have company that is far more preferable than you."

Kipps glances back at George. "Yes, you look like you're both having the times of your lives. Well, I only came over to ask you if you'd perhaps come dance with me. If not, Bobby Vernon has asked me to suggest he be your partner."

"Bobby? Isn't he, like, twelve? And aren't you twenty, or something? Both options sound positively strange."

"It's just a dance."

You look over at George, who's watching the encounter carefully with narrowed eyes. He rubs the lenses of his glasses on his orange tie.

You've made a promise to stick with him at this party, and you don't intend to break it. No matter how disappointed you feel that he didn't even say something like You look pretty when he saw you in your dress, it doesn't entitle you to leave him.

"Sorry, Kipps, to both of those generous offers. Like I said, my company is much more enjoyable."

He takes the rejection better than you thought he would, but soon it's just you and George again.

"You should've gone and danced with him," George says after a while, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Otherwise you've bought that dress for no reason."

You're not sure why that comment makes your skin flush hot with anger, but it does. You bought the dress to feel pretty in, not just for George but for yourself. It wasn't for no reason. Crossing your arms over your chest, you turn away from him. If you look at him any longer, you're worried angry tears will start prickling your eyes.

"Well, then maybe I will go dance with Kipps. You don't seem overly interested in conversation with me, anyways."

"Fine."

Maybe you expected him to put up a little more of a fight. Maybe that's why, once more, you feel your body deflate a little. You don't spare him another look as you trudge through the crowd until you find Kipps.

"Oh, (name), hello again."

"I've rethought your offer," you say. "I'll have that dance if you're not busy."

He's not your preferred partner, but it was starting to get stifling standing with George when you had so much you wanted to say. Kipps at least tells you what's on his mind.

For example, "Karim seems pretty unhappy with your decision to dance with me."

"He doesn't tell me what I can or can't do."

How ironic. He has in fact told you to dance with Kipps, and here you are, obeying like a dog on a lead. You scowl at the thought.

"You look nice," Kipps says. "Red suits you. And your hair looks nice."

"Thank you." It's sad that the only compliment you've gotten beyond Lucy's is from Kipps. Even then, you're not sure how to feel about it. He's old in a teenager's terms.

"If looks could kill, I think I'd be dead."

You turn your gaze, eyes catching George's distant figure, but he's looking at a little book he'd stashed in his suit pocket just before leaving.

Looking away, you try to keep the sadness out of your voice. "Stop messing with me. I'm trying to enjoy this party. I'm standing in the same building as Penelope Fittes. This is a big moment for me."

Even then, it's clear to even Kipps that the enthusiasm just isn't there.

A flash of blue catches the corner of your eye, and you see Lucy waving as discreetly as she can.

"Thanks for the dance," you say, offering him the best smile you can muster.

Kipss grabs your wrist as you make to walk away. "Be careful with Karim, okay? I know our teams don't get on, but that doesn't mean I want to see you get hurt because you want something he can't offer you."

For a moment, you just look at him. Finally, you say, "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

--

The bone glass is gone. Pamela Joplin is no longer a threat. The ghost of Edmund Bickerstaff is no more. Lockwood's bullet wound has been treated. George and Lucy are safe.

And yet...

Sitting at the kitchen table the following morning, you scribble away at the thinking cloth. After the events of last night - the Fittes Ball, the 'Battle of Kensal Greene' as it's now known - you couldn't sleep, so you've sat here all night, scratching away at all the swirly shapes on the cloth. Really, you should throw it out and replace it, but there are a few funny drawings you've recently drawn that you'd like to preserve a while longer.

The stairs leading down to the kitchen creak, but you don't move. There's only one person it could be.

Lockwood is sleeping off his bullet wound, and Lucy is up in the attic having a nap.

George steps through the door, shutting it softly behind him, but you don't look up at him. Instead, you take an angry bite out of your toast.

"Is that my egg cup you're using?"

"Yup."

Usually, he would've made a little scene out of this because, typically, it's Lockwood that uses his egg cup and the two of them love causing a scene. But he doesn't say anything; he only makes himself a cup of tea and some toast before sitting across from you.

It's silent for a while. You're not sure what to say, so you opt to keep scribbling on the thinking cloth. The most recent doodle you've made is of you and Lucy as stick figures, which is nothing compared to the sketches she's got pinned up in your shared room in the attic.

"So, last night."

You don't bother to look up. "What about it?"

"You dancing with Kipps?" His tone is cautious.

"Me and Kipps?" You scowl at the hidden implication. "He's, what, twenty-something? I'm a teenager. That's gross."

"No, I know, I didn't mean that. I just meant you two dancing together."

"No one else was going to dance with me. Well, other than Bobby Vernon, and he's about half my height."

George is quiet for a moment. "I just..."

The sigh that leaves your lips is exasperated, to say the least. "You just what, George? You're usually very straight to the point, so I'd like to know what said point is."

You know you're being harsh, but all of your emotions feel frayed from not sleeping and the boil-over from yesterday. You're still frustrated about it.

"I didn't like seeing him dance with you."

"Well, you don't really get a say in it, seeing as you didn't speak to me most of the night, and when you did you were telling me to go and dance with him. Seems a little confusing, right?"

"I didn't know how to say what I wanted to," he says, frowning. "Seeing you in your dress... I don't know. I don't know how to say it now."

"Oh, I have an idea: (name), you look pretty. Four words. Four words, George! I get it - you struggle to say things when you get overwhelmed, but I would've appreciated something as simple as that. I didn't need you to dance with me, or to give me a necklace that belonged to someone dear to you, or even wear a tie that matches my dress. I just needed four words. Three if you take out my name!"

"It isn't that easy! My throat closes up around you, and I forget how to speak."

"You're speaking fine right now."

"Yeah, because we're arguing. You're not standing in front of me looking like you've been blessed by some god."

You blink, stunned. "Well, I suppose that's one way to put it."

"I could put it a million different ways in my head, but I just can't say them." He won't look at you. In fact, he's taken his glasses off. "(name), I've never felt like this before, and it's hard to vocalise any of it. Last night I was - well, a lot of it was spent trying to figure out how to word it all without embarrassing myself. Like - like, I enjoy mornings with you before Lucy and Lockwood get up - well, most mornings - and we just talk about anything. You listen to me about things you probably don't care about."

"I do so care about Jonathan Fro-yo's books -"

"Jonathon Arroyo, you mean." There's a little smile on his face. He's fiddling with his fingers. "But that's beside the point. There are a lot of things I like about you or enjoy doing with you, I just don't know how to say it all."

Watching him for a moment, you decide to take a leap. "Would it make it easier if I told you I am hopelessly head over heels for you? Those mooney eyes Lockwood and Lucy are always doing? I'm also a culprit of it, but you're the source."

The glasses are back on, and you have to admire the way his hair flops over his forehead in messy curls when he turns to look at you abruptly. Those entrancing dark eyes of his widen in shock.

"You're telling me you couldn't guess? George Karim, perhaps your research skills aren't quite on par with what you think they are."

He smiles, a little less subdued this time, and your heart soars at the sight. "I'll try my best to talk from now on," he promises. "But it gets hard. All I ask is that you understand that."

"So, am I correct in assuming you like me back? Because if I've just admitted that I'm crazy about you and you don't even feel the same, I'll be mortified."

"I do," he says. "And you did look pretty last night. Beyond pretty."

It's not much, but it's a start, and you're willing to work on it.

[utilitycaster]

Whoaaaa holy shit something just snapped into place reading you mention the concept of creating a shape of negative space bc i've been thinking so long abt the "unspoken things/quiet part" of characters. I've often had this feeling that fandom will go a million and nine yards to red string board an ocean of depth for their favorite blorbo over.... what comes down to what's technically extrapolating based off of xyz canon, but said canon will be like "this character fidgets once, half his dialogue is quoting an in-universe play he tries to recreate (by ruining ppl's lives), and he doesn't understand why someone wouldn't want to be called a monster, therefore he is AUTISTIC and that drives his logic," or "this character has xyz vague background and is TRAUMATIZED because of WAR" inventing an entire character and it's like. Oh boy. This might be a matter of not being invested enough in these characters to TRY and delve so "deep" but I keep thinking that none of this is actually. written or feels purposeful in the context of How Storytelling Works/the Narrative to MAKE me invest or think that it's worth doing so. I always wonder how many people are trying so hard to project a better story onto something without understanding that the story actually needs to BE THERE and ADDRESSED, even subtly, and token moments aren't enough. But then that gets me thinking about how Thereness needs to exist for something to be subtle but written as opposed to Conspiracy off loose projection.

I was kinda thinking abt Laudna and how to use her as an example, because she's one of those characters for whom like, yeah I as a person totally understand the cycle of being upbeat and normal and everything and then having a random spiral of Bad Upstairs before being normal again, but narratively how do you portray that and why does everyone do it so much better than her. With equal screentime, everyone feels like they have so much more meat to their motivations and psychology despite some being significantly less fraught backstory wise. What's happening here because things just feel like they come out of nowhere with her with "oh so that matters all of a sudden?"

Hi anon,

Yes to all of this! With regards to your first paragraph - I feel that a lot too. It's a tricky situation because I think it's completely valid to project things onto characters and imagine them to have specific qualities that either you have or simply that you wish to see in fiction. It only becomes difficult in a fandom sphere when people insist that this is a fully evidence-based endeavor and not a personal interpretation (especially because a lot of that evidence is, as you say, either very much open to interpretation, or else totally spurious. The number of times I've had to shoo people off my posts for talking extensively about how an immensely self-absorbed character who never thinks about others unless forced to clearly has ADHD...but I digress). And as for the conspiracy element, especially when works aren't as good - absolutely. If you haven't read this, which I reblogged a few weeks ago (has Good Omens 2 spoilers) I highly recommend you do because what you're saying resonates a lot with OP's post, both in terms of our need as fans to project or find similarities with characters, and the fact that when people are disappointed by a work sometimes they try to create a better one, but instead of just writing fanfiction and calling it fanfiction they go full conspiracy theorist and assume there's some secret twist, and fall so hard into that all-crumbs-no-schnitzel (to borrow a metaphor from that post) fanon echo chamber they forget it is, in fact, only fanon.

Which brings us to Laudna. Before I go deeper I want to cover three things. First: for me at least, this criticism comes because I know Marisha is capable of doing this negative space work. It didn't come up much with Keyleth since we kind of knew her whole deal very early (which, to be clear, is valid; not every character needs this), but it's present with both Beau (her relationship to her father is masterfully done; the hallmark of good negative space work is that when the reveal comes you say oh of course) and to a lesser extent Patia, who, like all the Calamity characters, conveys a story much greater than the one that unfolds over a single night. Second: I think part of why a number of us in the fandom are so frustrated is that we have been doing that work of generously interpreting Laudna since the beginning, but nothing ever sticks, so it's becoming less and less worth the effort.

I'd have to go back through my archives pretty extensively, but early on, the going expectation for Laudna was that she would explore the idea of being one of the bystanders in a larger story as someone killed simply because of a passing resemblance to someone the Briarwoods wished to send a message to; that we'd get insight into Whitestone during the occupation from someone who wasn't freed by Vox Machina but rather killed, indirectly, because of them. However, not only have we not gotten that, but she also was chosen for being special: Delilah chose her as a vessel because of her inherent sorcery. So then it was perhaps about that tension between finding power in her sorcery vs. warlock levels - Pâté seemed like a clear setup for Pact of the Chain, after all - but then Marisha admitted she had no intention of taking that third warlock level, and always just planned to play Laudna as exclusively leveling in sorcerer, until FCG attacked. And meanwhile, there's no exploration of those sorcery powers, either.

Speaking only for myself, I've been interrogating "hey, why is her backstory that she was chased out of everywhere but for the most part everyone is mostly fine with her?" and "in 30 years she did nothing about Delilah? Really?" for quite some time. There's a number of questions that are not just unanswered, but lack the hints that this negative space work would provide. And to be clear there are ways to explain those things! This meta does a good job of talking through why she may have been chased out, and I've floated, in the past, that even Delilah's unwelcome presence was better than the absolute silence of being truly alone. But the work to support these fandom theories, again, is not really being done at the table, and moreover, even if it starts being done...it's episode 70. It should have come up in some capacity.

Marisha said (to be clear, somewhat jokingly) in the 2022 ComicCon panel that "Yeah. I don't want to think anymore. I'm tired," re: Laudna but the thing is...honestly, in my opinion? A character with Laudna's premise requires far more work than Beau or Keyleth to do well. Not only is she tied into one of the most famous events and entwined with one of the most famous villains of Campaign 1, but she's got 50 years of backstory! Beau and Keyleth are in their early 20s! (I could make a whole other post about this but character intelligence does not equal how hard they are to play; Imogen is an immensely tough concept that Laura's doing a good job with and she's lower INT than Laudna. I'd rather play a wizard than a character like Grog any day of the week because I genuinely believe that the acting burden for making a character like Grog sympathetic and believable without going into cheap mockery and parody is immense).

Going back to that statement, it really does feel as though every 4-Sided Dive episode or panel, when Marisha talks about Laudna, it's always just that she was envisioned as being over her trauma, and the premise was always just "make that creepy girl from her nightmare". And even then: it's fine if she'd done that - simply made a creepy character who was here to be creepy and cheerfully macabre - but through gameplay it's become clear that Laudna is not over that trauma (her arrested development being one of many options), and has acquired new traumas to boot, and for that matter never was really over it given that she displays intensely but they come up so inconsistently that there's never any follow-through. I agree with you completely that the idea of her often seeming fine and happy and then having spirals is believable and true to life, but one does need to actually follow through on the spirals - I think a lot of us finally threw up our hands when Laudna's believable, well-played, and justifiable anger and resentment after being thrown across the world away from half the party, essentially pushed into a fight that isn't her own, being betrayed by Bor'Dor, and feeling Delilah's return melted away without resolution. If you want to make a character who's over their trauma and go-with-the-flow, I feel as though step 1 is to not have an eternal reminder of one's trauma permanently stuck in one's head. "Warlock who dislikes their patron" is actually a premise that requires quite a lot of thinking and effort, and we are consistently not seeing it.

I think what's most telling is that the defense of Laudna for the weird freakout this past episode is both vehement, and in conflict with itself. Is Marisha just making a joke (that didn't really land with anyone at the table nor much of the fandom, and was taken at least semi-seriously by both)? Or is it actually great and good that Laudna is incredibly traumatized and clingy and we should all hope she becomes even more clingy and codependent? When even the people who are shielding Laudna from even a whisper of criticism can't agree what Marisha's doing, it's pretty dire, especially when that criticism is "this character feels directionless and incoherent."

So getting back to negative space: It's my hunch that there just...wasn't a lot of clarity to Laudna's motivations, and the questions in her backstory weren't answered. She's creepy and she's kooky, Sun Tree corpse, Delilah in her head, met Imogen two years ago, was friends with a little girl at some point (which we only know from 4-Sided Dive, which is, to be clear, bad that it's never come up in-game). We don't know how she feels about her sorcery powers other than a vague enjoyment of their creepiness...but she also sees them as a way out from Delilah...but she also barely engages with Delilah and hasn't done anything to get rid of her. We have no sense of how she got to "the worst thing that's happened to me already happened" because while it's completely fair to play her as feeling that way 30 years later, I highly doubt she felt that way as she cut herself down from the Sun Tree. So as a result, it's hard to pick a direction because that foundation is lacking.

The thing about that negative space is that to do it well, you really need to know what you're trying to convey. Which is also why, as you say, characters with much simpler backstories are fine; Fearne was basically hanging out at her grandmother's place until EXU and her parents left when she was very young; she is curious about her parents and loves her grandmother and is a chaotic fey entity who was sent into the Material Plane with the Weave Lens, and mostly she just wants to explore and have fun and hang out with her friends. Ashley just needs to...play Fearne like that, which she does with aplomb. The complex setup for Laudna demands a huge number of answers in the backstory, and my guess is that Marisha does not have them. I think the problem isn't with the acting (in fact, I'm fairly confident it isn't, because, again, I know from past characters Marisha can do this); it's that Laudna's concept prioritized the aesthetic, mechanics, and facts of the backstory, and didn't adequately fill in her beliefs and motivations, so she's just flailing. I also suspect from the most recent 4-Sided Dive and the most recent SDCC panel that Marisha is specifically looking for interparty conflict, and to be clear that's valid...but again, to do that believably and well, Laudna's philosophy and motivations and characterization need to be much more clearly established than they are.

[loving-n0t-heyting]

i know monster never has a "let's all sit down and discuss exactly why the antagonist is the way he is" moment, and lets you put the pieces together over the longer term, but how satisfied were you with what you had in that respect by the end? the unknown of whether it'll pull that off or not is like, it keeps interrupting my watches at the 1/4 or 1/3 mark (along with other stuff coming up in life) so i'm curious

ill try to give a relatively unspoilery answer, since you are specifically asking for advice about whether to keep watching

i think on some level basically any explanation the narrative could give would be insufficient, bc the psychology of the antagonist (an omnicompetent demon in human clothing coolly motivated by totalising misanthropy and nothing else) is impossible and thus impossible to explain by possible explanantia [what circumstantial modality is this? idk how to exactlky specify it but there is a natural one]. so it inevitably requires some suspension of disbelief. if youve read my posts on the show so far, you can probably infer the basic shape of the answer the narrative offers: some kind of fucked up traumatising psychological experimentation on children during the cold war. commie kiddie mkultra.

is this satisfying? depends how easy it is to trick yrself into believing these sorts of psychological grooming programmes can have these kinds of quasi-magical effects on their subjects. if its maximally easy (you already believe it), i think it will be pretty satisfying: the buildup and revelations and the horror of the situation are executed very artfully, in dribs and drabs up until the final moments. if you cringe at it the way certain kind of autist cringes at scifi getting their favourite bit of physics or biology wrong, youll be pretty disappointed. me, im somewhere between the two, so my reaction was middling; its not what kept me watching, but it didnt terribly detract from the experience either. similar to my feelings about other "psychological scifi" settings like hannibal or brave new world

its very much a psychologically oriented story, but i think most of the psychological interest is in how various other characters relate to the alien personality of the antagonist than in that personality itself, even if the story itself doesnt fully agree. its like a macguffin: it doesnt matter so much what the contents of the microfilm are in north by northwest if viewed properly, bc the real narrative and thematic meat is in the way it motivates the characters hunting after it and one another

[crguang]

ok, so, I wasn’t sleeping bc I probably just have insomnia, possibly my depression, and also I’d just moved in to my dorm and I suck at sleeping in new places, lol, dw tho I slept for like most of the weekend and I’ve been sleeping regularly this week.

I honestly forgot that we don’t actually know wtf the stellaron hunters are actually doing , line they literally could just be lying abt everything. Actually none of them even say anything except Kafka , blade has his own thing going on, silver wolf is usually behind the scenes fucking around and firefly just didn’t say a thing , like come on, TB didn’t even think to ask anything, there was that dreamscape pass thing of whatever it’s called and the quote from 2.3 is like “Once, we dreamed of being strangers.Upon waking up, we realized we had always loved each other.” Which I assume is abt TB and firefly, and I do kind of wish we got some more stuff about TB’s past with the stellaron hunters, especially since firefly was so important, but it’s whatever. I am actually kind of interested in the script, what Elio tells them to say, and the stuff they’re just making up as they go. Especially since firefly’s script for penacony was just a few words (also firefly said she was part of the iris family the acting/performing one bc she carries out scripts). And Kafka was told was to tell TB during her interrogation abt what they’re doing on the Luofu, but I’m not sure if she’s just lying after that 😭Kafka has some explaining to do when she comes back very soon, in the main story.

hsjajsmskdmnx the arrests on the Luofu are so silly tho, especially since jing yuan pardoned her so she’s not technically wanted there anymore BUT I STILL WANT HER even tho she’s literally worth almost 11 billion by the IPC. The IPC stuff kind of bothers me tbh, they’re not the government, but also they’ve got a fair amount of authority, I feel like pardoning the stellaron hunters wouldn’t be allowed, like I don’t understand how Jing yuan did that without getting in trouble 😭 especially with the most wanted one. And topaz APPARENTLY doesn’t know who the stellaron hunters are, in her voice line abt them she said she didn’t know who they were but they had a good credit score ITS KAFKAS CREDIT SCORE SHES THE ONE W THE CARD and like it’s funny bc that means Kafka registered it under her actually name, and no one cares. Like it would’ve been funnier if she said like the wanted criminals, the ones who blah blah blah, but they have a good credit score. And jade knew exactly abt firefly and the other stellarom hunters, and even tho they’re different ranks topaz should know them. Especially considering the fact that they’re pretty infamous, ig I shouldn’t be nitpicking especially since march literally says when in Rome one time, but whatever.

sorry for ranting 😭 hope you’re doing ok!

-🌠

hope you’re doing a bit better!! insomnia is a bitch, make sure to take care of yourself as much as u can <3

i totally agree with you on the stellaron hunters not revealing anything, i dont really expect them to since we’re still quite early in the game timeline wise but it’s a bit disappointing for the TB to have gotten close to firefly and she never alluded to them knowing each other before, especially when the game’s marketing was pushing romantic implications between them😭 and the trailblazer’s “idgaf” mentality is a bit annoying because i get wanting to move forward and not wanting to be burdened by the past but not being curious at all is… weird. even march, who was repeatedly told not to look into her past, got upset about it at some point. and in the TB’s case, their connection with the stellaron hunters is actively shaping their present/future, so it’s not like they gain nothing from asking a few questions. kafka was the one who encouraged them to get some information from her when they were alone by playing truth or lie, like they don’t care😭 it’s annoying cause i wanna knowwww. a big missed opportunity with firefly imo, we could’ve gotten a pattern of learning a little bit about the trailblazer on every planet they stop by and it’d have been nice. instead all i get is trashcan and raccoon jokes like oh brother are we 8. i wonder what the script actually says, the SH says he always tells the right future but from what we know , it feels super vague. “experiencing 3 deaths” “finding the stellaron in a non-physical way” is not precise at all like how do they even carry those orders😭 no wonder they have liberty to do lots of stuff during missions, there’s barely anything in the damn script

about jing yuan, he’s general of the luofu and the xianzhou has its own regulations and criminal law, the ipc has no control over how they treat their prisoners and their bounties dont really matter to the xianzhou unless they want the money LMFAO, so the ipc has no jurisdiction to punish jing yuan for letting the SH get away. not to mention that the alliance and the ipc have trade agreements and stuff, so their relationship would be damaged and the ipc wouldnt benefit from that. at the end of the day they’re a corporation, they don’t really care for justice.

what bothers me is TOPAZ. IT MAKES NO SENSE. she’s a stoneheart in the same division as jade, sure jade is more cunning and always looking for opportunities to make profits but not knowing them at all is so ridiculous and unrealistic fr. they’ve broken into pier point like twice and that’s her place of work😭😭😭😭😭😭 no way she never heard anything about it to not form an opinion on them. i feel like giving her a voiceline about them was just for the credit score joke which also makes zero sense because why would any of them pay taxes to the corporation that wants them dead or imprisoned. how would the ipc even know which credit card is theirs and why are they doing nothing about it like its so stupid… herta froze all of silver wolf’s accounts cause she was feeling petty but youre telling me the ipc is monitoring their credit scores?.. like im not going to lie i dont take the ipc seriously at all. silver wolf was literally participating in a tournament they sponsored and they just let her compete. like that girl was on the big screen with people cheering her on… for a company that would benefits from civilians fearing/hating the SH, they really dont give a fuck. once again it lowers the stakes and makes the story less exciting for me, and in general it’s inconsistent and weird narration wise to approach heavy themes while simultaneously making a joke of everything. if that makes sense 😭 like the tonal shifts are always very harsh and out of place, it’s one of the things i hate the most about hsr. having the trailblazer crack a stupid joke when everyone’s super serious (which often gets them ignored by dan heng or makes march’s face turn unimpressed, or has her tell them now isnt the time) is starting to annoy me like we get it they’re dumb as rocks omg. when cocolia died at the end of the belobog mission and march’s first words were “well! what an adventure!” in front of bronya hello?!? having no tact in actual serious situations isnt endearing to me like u can just keep ur mouth shut atp

anyway sorry i ranted i guess i needed that off my chest HDJFKFKG