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justlemmeadoreyou · 2 months

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Serendipity*

Summary-Harry meets you at the most unexpected of places, and helps you like a knight in a wedding suit. It all starts at your best friend's wedding, where you find yourself in a predicament without an escort. As panic sets in, Harry appears, sent by the groom's brother to fill in as your last-minute companion. From that moment, a serendipitous connection begins to bloom between you both.

Words: 5k

Warnings: LOVE! SO MUCH LOVE AND SWEETNESS AND SOFTNESS IN THIS ONE! BUT ALSO-kissing, bathing together, p in v sex, a bit of cursing, loads of fluff.

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You stood in the bridal suite, your best friend Amelia bustling around in her stunning wedding gown. The room was a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, joy, and a hint of nervousness. It was her big day, and you couldn't have been happier for her.

Months of planning had led to this moment, and you had been Ame’s right-hand woman every step of the way. The dress, the flowers, the decorations—you had been there for it all. Today was the culmination of her dreams, and you were thrilled to witness her marry the love of her life.

As the time for the ceremony approached, you could feel your heart beating faster. You had the honor of being her maid of honor, and you couldn't wait to stand by her side as she walked down the aisle. But there was one small hiccup—the absence of your escort.

Panic set in as you looked around the room, realizing that you were missing the crucial piece of the bridal party puzzle. "Where's my escort?" you asked, your voice betraying the tension building inside you.

Ames looked at you with concern. "What do you mean? Did something happen to your partner? He was supposed to be here long ago–"

Your mind raced, trying to figure out a solution. The best man was missing. Great. Now, you were left without a partner, the groom was left without the best man, and the thought of walking down the aisle alone made your stomach churn.

You fiddled with your fingers, heart throbbing in your chest as your mind reeled. This was a disaster. So many people couldn’t make it–most of them were supposed to be there for backup if anything bad happened and now, along with them,–your escort was missing too. You were beginning to think if you were the bad luck here.

“I’ll see if someone else is willing, the guests are already out there and I’ll look like a moron but I will–” you rambled, sweat forming on your forehead. This was a bad habit of yours. Panicking so much that you wore yourself down, and if you didn’t breathe and relax, your makeup and hair would be ruined and–

Just as you were about to leave the room in a haste, the door knocked. You all looked at each other with curious gazes, oblivious to who it was.

“Who is that? All of us are here and maybe it’s your dad–”

You stood by the door, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself to explain it all in case they ask what is taking so long.

But, as you opened the door, you opened it slightly, just in case it was the groom, Eddie.

To your surprise, it was someone else–someone you haven't met before. He was sharply dressed, suit and all, piercing green eyes looking straight into yours.

“I’m sorry-I don’t know you” you asked, and he smiled.

“I’m Harry. I’m a friend of Amelia’s brother. Your escort wasn’t here and Eddie was freaking out, so he sent me here”

You searched his eyes, and they were so calm, so soft. Your heartbeat began to steady, and you walked out of the door, closing it shut, even though it was time.

“You’re sure you won’t mind? Or you're not taken by someone else?”

He chuckled, a sound that you know you will be longing to hear once again.

“No-I’m not taken by someone else. That’s why I came here. To help you in case you need it. What’s your good name?”

You were lost in the way his lips moved as he talked, completely phasing out and not listening to a word he said. God, he was so pretty.

“Hello?” he asked once again, completely aware of how your gaze was fixated on him. He couldn’t lie, he knew he looked irresistible. But the way you were ogling him in the time of crisis–it was something he hadn’t seen before.

“Hello” he said again, waving his hand over your face to obstruct your view, and that’s what broke your gaze. You blinked rapidly, mumbling “Sorry” before asking him what he said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n. But–what about the best man?”

“I am the best man. It was supposed to be Archie, I know. But this wedding was a last minute plan and he’s drunk as hell right now in Vegas.”

“Oh God. I told them not to get married one week after the proposal. But who would listen to me? I’m just the maid of honor after all. I swear if anything, anything happens, I will–” You were stopped by him, as he said, “Y/n. The wedding”

“Yeah. sorry”

You pulled the door back open, Ames coming out, and Harry fawned over how perfect she looked. He was like a brother to her, and you never met this gorgeous, gorgeous man till now. How?

Her father came soon, ready to walk her down the aisle.

You look at her one last time, her face glowing and so, so pretty. Her hair, the dress, the veil–it’s all so perfect.

“Let’s walk you down the aisle.”

>>>

As you made your way down the aisle, all eyes were on you and Harry. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but Harry's hand on your arm gave you the confidence to keep walking with your head held high.

You could see Amelia and her soon-to-be husband at the end of the aisle, both looking nervous and excited. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of them, knowing how much they loved each other. The priest stood behind them , ready to commence the wedding.

As you reached the altar, Harry stepped aside and you took your place next to Amelia. The ceremony began and you couldn't help but feel emotional as you watched your best friend exchange vows with the love of her life. The rings were exchanged, and kisses and promises were made. It was the perfect wedding that she had planned, and you were so glad you would make it happen for her in such short notice.

During the reception, Harry proved to be the perfect replacement for the missing best man. He made everyone laugh with his witty jokes and kept the party going with his dance moves. After the dance of the bride and groom, everyone was slow dancing–even your father and mother, and they looked so cute together.

You were sitting by one of the tables, sipping water and looking at them all.

Harry appeared beside you, letting you finish up your water, before looking down at you, offering you his hand, “Can I have a dance?” he asked.

You smiled, wiping some of the drops from your lips carefully, and nodding happily.

“I would love to dance with you, Harry”

You held his hand and got up, letting him lead you to the dance floor. Once you stood in front of each other, you instinctively placed your arm on his shoulder, his coming to rest on your waist. You both held each other’s hands then–intertwining your fingers, and they fit so perfectly.

As the music started to play, you could feel Harry’s body moving in sync with yours. He led you gracefully around the dance floor, his steps confident and smooth.

You couldn’t help but admire his movements, the way he effortlessly glided across the floor.

“You’re a fantastic dancer, Y/N” Harry whispered in your ear, making you blush at the praise.

“Thank you, but I think you’re the one making me look good,” you replied, teasingly. He chuckled, spinning you around before pulling you back into his arms. Your chests collided, and you looked up at him, getting lost in his piercing green eyes.

“You know, I could get used to dancing with you like this” Harry said, his voice low and husky, his words meant for your ears only. You couldn’t resist the urge to press your body closer to his, feeling the heat radiating between the two of you.

“I could too” you breathed out, feeling your heart flutter at the intense gaze he was giving you. The two of you continued to dance, your bodies moving fluidly together as if you were one. You could feel the music pulsing through your veins, heightening every touch and every movement.

As the song came to an end, Harry pulled you into a gentle embrace, his hand caressing your back soothingly.

“That was amazing, Y/N” he said, his voice full of admiration.

“I couldn’t agree more, '' you replied, a smile spreading across your face, and a blush spread across your cheeks.

As the night went on, you and Harry found ourselves lost in each other's company. You talked about everything and anything, laughing and sharing stories. You found yourself enjoying his company more and more as the night went on. He was charming, funny, and easy to talk to. You couldn't believe you had just met him today.

But as the night came to an end, it was time for the bride and groom to leave. You both rushed back to the reception, saying your goodbyes to them before they left.

But before, it was time for her to toss the bouquet.

Everyone cheered as she came into view, holding the bouquet as all the single girls gathered behind her, ready to catch it and be the next to marry. You didn’t have a boyfriend, but you wanted to be there for her.

"Alright, here goes nothing!" Amelia exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

As the bouquet soared through the air, you watched in amazement, hardly daring to believe her luck. In a surreal moment, the bouquet seemed to be heading directly towards you, almost as if guided by fate itself. Without even consciously trying, your hands instinctively reached out, and to your astonishment, you felt the soft petals and stems of the bouquet in your grasp.

Gasps of surprise echoed around the room as you stood there, stunned, clutching the bouquet tightly to your chest. You quickly glanced around, wide-eyed, as the other girls congratulated you with genuine smiles, though perhaps tinged with a hint of envy.

Amelia, the radiant bride, beamed at you, her eyes shining with joy. "Looks like someone's next in line for love!" she teased, her voice filled with excitement.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of happiness and disbelief wash over you. "I-I can't believe it! And I don’t even have a boyfriend" you stammered, voice shaky and still in shock from the unexpected turn of events.

Soon, it was time for them to leave, and as Ames and Eddie said their goodbyes, kissing and laughing as they sat in the car, ready to leave.

You hugged her for one last time, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Pulling back, he pulled her back, and they both got in the car, driving away.

It was all like a dream. A perfect dream that had come true.

You were happy, smiling as you watched their car disappear into the darkness, and it was after a while that you realized you had lost harry.

Panic started to set in as you searched every corner of the reception hall, but Harry was nowhere to be found. You asked around, but no one had seen him. Just as you were about to give up and accept that you had lost him, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you saw Harry standing there with a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, I got lost in the crowd, and then some girl came to talk to me, and I think she was trying to get my number, but I shrugged her off. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity.

Relief flooded through you as he pulled you into a tight hug. “I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you either,” you replied, hugging him back just as tightly. It was instinct, and none of you cared that you had hugged.

Pulling back, you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment too long. You wanted to say something, wanted to ask him if he was taken, but you were scared.

He definitely was taken. A charming British man who looked so good, made you laugh and was so perfect.

So, you decided to shrug it off, the feeling of wanting to hold him once again, pulling at the strings of your heart. He was perfect, so perfect. And so dreamy.

“So–you shrugged off a girl?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood, and to dissipate the thick tension in the air between you two.

“Oh–yeah” he chuckled, one which you were maybe hearing for the last time.

“Yeah, so was being a bit touchy, and I was uncomfortable, so I told her. And–then she asked for my number, so-”

“So?”

“I said no”

“Because–you’re seeing someone? Because if you’re not, that was kinda stupid–I think. Weddings are real meet-cutes.” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“No–uh, um, I’m not seeing someone, it’s just–I didn’t want her number. I–I wanted yours.”

The words hit you like a brick wall. You were not expecting him to say that. The girl who approached him was probably pretty, and definitely prettier than you. Then why did he say no to her, and yes to you?

“Me–cool cool cool cool cool” you stammered, and looked down, blushing and having no idea what to say next.

He sensed your dilemma, and held your hand in his.

“Y/n–please, look at me”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to. He was so pretty and so perfect and here he was, standing in front of you, asking for your number after rejecting someone else.

And you knew, if you looked up, you would definitely fall in love with him.

Harry waited for you to look up at him, and when you didn’t, he lifted his right hand, holding your chin softly and lifting your face up, making you look into his eyes.

And it was over for you. You fell for him.

“Y/n–I really like you. And what we shared today–the dance, the talks, the laughs–it was so perfect. You’re so perfect. And I didn’t talk to that girl or dance or laugh with her. I did all that with you. And–I think I’ve fallen for you”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you choked out a laugh. It was so unexpected, but it felt like it was meant to be. His hand was in yours, and he was holding it with so much promise. And on your other hand, was the bouquet. A promise.

“Y/n–will you go on a date with me?” he asked, and you nodded immediately, wiping a stray tear that had fallen on your cheeks. You immediately pulled him in for a hug, holding him close tightly, never wanting to let go.

>>>

Your first date was a week later.

Harry called you to his house, and he had texted you his address. He didn’t say what he had planned for tonight. He wanted it to be a surprise, and you knew it would be beautiful.

As you arrived at Harry's house, your heart fluttered with anticipation. You had no idea what he had planned for tonight, but you knew it would be something special, just like him. Stepping out of your car, you made your way to his front door, excitement bubbling inside you.

Harry greeted you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he led you inside. "I'm so glad you're here," he said, taking your hand in his. "I've got something amazing planned for us tonight."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. "I can't wait to see what you've come up with," you replied, your heart pounding with anticipation.

After a quick drive, you arrived at a secluded spot far from the city lights, where the stars shone brightly overhead. The air was crisp and cool, and the sound of laughter and music filled the night.

"What is this place?" you asked, gazing around in wonder at the vibrant scene before you.

Harry grinned, his eyes dancing with excitement. "It's a lantern festival," he explained, looking so happy. "I thought it would be the perfect setting for our first date."

You felt a surge of delight at the sight of the colorful lanterns lighting up the night sky. "It's incredible," you exclaimed, taking in the festive atmosphere around you.

As you wandered through the festival, hand in hand with Harry, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. Everywhere you looked, couples and families were gathered together, laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"We should release a lantern," Harry suggested, his eyes shining with excitement. "But what should we write on it?"

You paused for a moment, pondering the question. And then, a smile spreads across your face as an idea forms in your mind. "How about our initials?" you suggested, squeezing Harry's hand gently.

He smiled back at you, his eyes soft with affection. "I love that idea," he replied, pulling you close for a hug.

Together, you made your way to the lantern station, where a kind elderly man handed you a lantern and a marker.

“This is so beautiful, Harry. Thank you for this” you thanked him, as he, with trembling hands, wrote your initials on the surface of the lantern. He smiled at you, finishing it up, and taking your hand once again, ready to light it up and set it afloat.

You reached the top of the hill, heart pounding in your chest as you stopped. He held the lantern, and you carefully lit the matchstick, lighting the tiny wick under it on fire.

With Harry by your side, you watched as the lantern soared gracefully into the air, its soft glow illuminating the darkness around you.

After that, there was a second date. And then a third, after which, you both started dating.

It was at dinner at a restaurant, and he had specifically naked you to dress up for it. You knew he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t help calm your nerves.

You had worn a red dress, one that you had bought a long time ago. It still fits you well, and you couldn’t wait for Harry to see you in this.

As you stepped into the restaurant, your heart raced with anticipation. The soft glow of candlelight danced across the elegant dining room, casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Harry's eyes lit up as he saw you, dressed in the red dress you had carefully chosen for this occasion. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze lingering on you, for a moment too long. That was exactly what you had wished when you put it on.

"You look absolutely stunning." he complimented, finally lifting his gaze from the dress and bringing it to your face.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you took in his handsome appearance as well, dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his strong features. "Thank you," you replied, smiling shyly. "You don't look too bad yourself."

As you settled into your seats, the air crackled with anticipation. Harry reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "I wanted tonight to be special," he began, his voice soft and earnest. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, sensing the gravity of his words. "What is it?" you asked, barely able to contain your excitement.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes shining with emotion. "I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together, and ‘m really happy when I’m with you," he confessed. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, Harry, yes!" you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace.

He pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that sent sparks flying. The world fell away as you melted into each other, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

After dinner, you made your way back to Harry's place, the anticipation building with each step. As you entered his apartment, the air hummed with electricity, charged with the promise of what was to come.

You kissed each other, hands pulling at each other’s clothes and pulling them off. You reached the bedroom, laughing and giggling,and locking the door.

You stood in front of Harry, your hands running down his chest, you couldn't help but admire the muscles that rippled beneath his skin. His hands traced the curves of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze filled with adoration.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a shy smile forming on your lips. “And you're so handsome,” you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft and warm against yours, moving in perfect sync as your tongues danced together. You could feel the heat building between your bodies, the need for each other growing with each passing moment.

As you broke apart, gasping for air, Harry's hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer to him. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded, your own need for him evident in the way your body pressed against his. He led you to the bedroom, your hands never leaving each other's bodies. As you entered the room, the soft glow of candles greeted you, casting a warm light on the bed.

Harry gently pushed you down onto the soft sheets, his lips trailing down your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. “You're so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his hands caressing every inch of your body.

You moaned at his touch, the sensations overwhelming you. His lips moved down to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it gently into his mouth. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you let out a soft moan.

He moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your stomach. Your breath hitched as he reached your core, his tongue tracing circles around your clit. You let out a low moan, your hips moving in rhythm with his mouth.

“Harry,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as he continued to pleasure you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he added a finger inside you, making you cry out in pleasure. His finger was moving so well, hitting all the right spots.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with need. “I'm going to come,” you moaned, your fingers tightening in his hair.

As you reached your peak, Harry's lips never leaving your body, you let out a cry of pleasure, your body shaking with ecstasy. He crawled back up to you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss, his hand moving to pleasure you once again.

As he entered you, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. Your moans filled the room, mixing with Harry's as your bodies moved as one.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his own climax.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion as you reached your peak together, your bodies trembling with pleasure.

You lay in each other’s arms, breathing ragged, but bodies satisfied and contented. He pulled you close, kissing your forehead and cheeks, making you feel so pretty.

“We should clean up. Have a bath with me?” he asked after a moment or so, and you nodded. He pulled you close, but your legs were like jello, so he lifted you up like a koala, and carried you to the bathroom, making you sit on the toilet seat in case you wanted to pee, and went to get the shower ready.

You both cleaned each other. Blowing bubbles and suds, throwing water at each other, gigging, and so happy.

You threw some water at him, and a bit of soap got in his eyes. You panicked, immediately running the tap again and helping him wash it.

“Oh fuck—I’m sorry, Harry–I dodn’t mean to, I was just playing, are you alright?”

He started giggling, throwing his arms at his chest and laughing at you like you were a clown.

“Ahhh” you yelled, throwing water at him again, and yelling at him for making you scared. He pulled you close once again, kissing your mouth as you lay in there for what felt like hours.

>>>

The next few months of your relationship were a blur, each moment with Harry feeling like a dream come true. You both were incredibly compatible, sharing laughter, adventures, and countless memories together. But just as your love was blossoming, a job opportunity arose for Harry – one that would take him to another state for a year.

At first, the news felt like a punch to the gut. The thought of being apart from Harry filled you with an overwhelming sense of sadness and uncertainty. But as you talked it over with him, you realized that this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. It was a chance for him to advance in his career, to chase his dreams, and you couldn't be prouder of him.

So, you made a promise to each other – to make the most of the time you had left together, to cherish every moment, and to stay connected no matter the distance. As the days passed, you cherished each date, each kiss, and each shared laugh as if it were your last.

And when the day finally came for Harry to leave, it was bittersweet. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held him tight, unwilling to let go. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw nothing but love and determination.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "And I'll call you every chance I get, I promise."

With a heavy heart, you watched him drive away, the distance between you growing with each passing mile. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you stayed connected through phone calls, texts, and video chats.

And despite the distance, your love only grew stronger. You supported each other through the challenges, celebrated each other's successes, and counted down the days until you could be together again.

>>>

The days apart seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one filled with a longing that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of your being. You counted down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until you would once again be reunited with Harry, your heart aching with the absence of his presence.

But even in the midst of the pain, you held onto the memories of your time together, each one a beacon of light in the darkness of your separation. You replayed the moments you had shared in your mind, savoring the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the depth of his love.

And then, at long last, the day arrived. You stood at the airport, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd for any sign of Harry. And then, there he was, striding towards you with that familiar smile that melted your heart.

You ran into his arms, tears of joy streaming down your face as you held him close, unable to believe that he was finally here, with you, where he belonged.

And then, in a moment that felt like something out of a fairytale, Harry got down on one knee, his eyes shining with love as he held out a small velvet box.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never want to spend another day apart from you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Your heart swelled with love as you nodded, tears of happiness blurring your vision. Harry slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit, just like the two of you.

And as you embraced, you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for. This was the moment that made all the distance and all the struggles worth it. You were here, in each other's arms, and nothing else mattered.

"I promise to always love you," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "To support you, to stand by your side no matter what."

"I promise to make every day with you an adventure," he continued, his eyes locked on yours. "To cherish and adore you for all eternity."

And as he leaned in to kiss you, you knew that this was just the beginning of your magical love story. A story that had been tested by distance and time, but had only grown stronger because of it.

And as you held each other close, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you had found your serendipity – a love that was unexpected, yet destined, a love that would guide you through every twist and turn of life's journey, forever and always. You never knew that you had found the love of your life at that wedding, the person who was your last-minute escort would be the one you would marry one day, and love and cherish forever.

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i love you all 💌tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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cerastes · 9 months

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i have not gone through the stream vod of arknights, but did you enjoy eblana and her not-quite-that-much-fucked-up-evilitude?

We didn't read that in the stream but I did read that after the stream by myself and I Liked The Event quite a bit!

It goes without saying that I went into it with a lot of enthusiasm because I've loved Reed as a character since her release, and I really wanted to know What Was Her Deal. We get some of it in the main story, since she's tied to the Victoria arc, but her getting an event specifically as a new character in another class is fascinating because it would, logically speaking, serve as a character piece more so than a big stakes event. This is what was delivered, so I couldn't be happier.

It's not that I dislike big stakes or grander scale stories in Arknights -- the Abyssal Hunters arc and the Sui arc are my favorites! -- it's just, sometimes, I really want to know more about the characters more so than everything that surrounds them. Character pieces help understand the grander scale with a lot more emotional weight, because if done right, I'm now emotionally invested in the character and their overarching goal, not just the goal as the framework for the story. For example, 'Maria Nearl' was first and foremost a character piece, which then informs the overarching Kazimierz arc, so by the time Near Light rolls in, not only do I know what we're fighting for, I know who we're fighting for and why we are doing so, I know Maria's motivations, efforts, struggles, and trials, and so, I am invested in wanting to see her succeed. 'Maria Nearl' being a character piece doesn't mean it ONLY centered on Maria and nothing else, it sets up the scene and the cast, but through the lens of someone in the story as opposed to through the effects of events in the story.

What The Firelight Casts does a little inversion in the overall structure compared to 'Maria Nearl': It's a character piece after the bigger scale narrative. We know what the bigger picture is... But what about this key character in the whole story? And will knowing about this character recontextualize or add even more meat to what we already know? With this in mind, let's talk about it:

Reed detests her circumstances, because Reed had very simple, domestic desires: She wanted a simple, quiet life reading and writing poetry, immersing herself in words and stories. She didn't have any grander aspirations, experiences, or desires beyond "loving poetry" because she was a simple child when she got her head pushed under an ocean of conspiracies and was drowned in them. Since she didn't have the strength of character to really do anything in such a horrifying world, her sister, Eblana, endowed with far stronger character, made her her body double. Reed never questioned it, because she had nothing else going on for her, but the more atrocities she was forced to commit as "The Leader", the more she hated it, and herself for not having it in her to stand up to Dublinn.

Hence why she attempted suicide via standing in an open field that was currently being bombarded. In a turn of events she couldn't have predicted, she was saved by Outcast, and was sent to Rhodes for recovery. She then spent some time in Rhodes Island, recovering, but also, learning. It's noted in her Files that she'd spend a significant amount of time pestering the medical teams in RI for knowledge in the clinical fields. She also requested a new weapon to her specifications, because she hates her spear. This may seem a matter of preference, until you realize that the spear is just Eblana's old weapon, just furthering exactly how much of an un-person she was. She'd use her sister's name, her sister's title, her sister's reputation, her sister's authority, even her sister's damn weapon.

Her chosen codename, "Reed", comes as no surprise: She explicitly says it's because that's how she is: Bland, an accessory, unremarkable, insignificant, like reeds by the river. In this event, we also learn another reason why "Reed" is apt for Loughshinny: Uncontrollably flammable if set ablaze.

Reed was terrified of her own powers. She is a direct descendant of the Red Dragon of Tara, and has insane innate power, namely, power over life itself: The way her flames work is explicitly not fire-aspected Arts: Her Arts allow her to inject pure life into objects and creatures, and the consequence of overcharging skin, muscle tissue, etc with so much life energy so fast and strongly is that it becomes unstable and explodes into raw energy, generating fire as a consequence. It's also why parts of her body, like her tail and her chest, seem to be constantly "ablaze": She is literally overflowing with the essence of life at all times, to the point it hurts her, and coming into contact with her means exploding. She is an almost perfect weapon. She hates it. Even her Rhodes Island evaluation files basically describe her as a stupidly powerful individual.

There's only one thing she doesn't regret about her time in Eblana's Dublinn: She really does care for Tarans, and wants to do anything in her power to help them. The reason she put up with being used and abused in Dublinn (about the only person that showed Reed any kindness in Dublinn was Harmonie, and even then she claims it's because she's interested in Reed and that she may have use for her) was because, Reed told herself, "at least it's for the Tarans". But Reed is not stupid, and over the time, realized that Eblana doesn't mind sacrificing countless Tarans that trust her if it means securing an advantage. That's when Reed decided she'd rather get blown to pieces by artillery rather than continue doing horrible things for someone that doesn't even care about the people that she claims to fight for.

Reed in the event is trying to help this very "little guy", this very scorned Taran, find a foothold. Her story here is, by all means, low stakes for the most part, but it's important in understanding who Reed has finally resolved to become: Her time in Rhodes Island and her new Arts unit allows her to far, far more precisely control her Arts, and now she can use VERY controlled bursts of her Arts to inject life into others without sending their living tissue into disarray, effectively becoming a potent healer. The wounded Tarans even remark that while she didn't give them the most involved treatment for their wounds, they still felt as good as new: It's because Reed isn't doing more than basic first aid, and using this as a disguise to her carefully injecting their wounds with life energy. For Reed, this is massive: She's finally able to like her innate Arts, an intrinsic part of herself, for the first time, because she's finally not using it to turn people to ashes or make them violently explode. She can finally do things differently, and without Eblana pulling her strings, she's finally able to do as she wishes. She ends up creating her very own "Dublinn", with a few Tarans, and looks to the future to do what she never thought she could do, and that's what I really loved: It's a small scale event, but it makes it very clear that from here on, Reed not only has a purpose, she has agency over herself, and finally, finally, she is her own person.

The final "map" of the event was fantastic, narratively speaking: It's a fight with Eblana entirely within her mind, with Eblana wearing a mask in the first phase. Eblana's mechanics involve killing her own units to empower herself, representative of how she's completely willing to kill Tarans for the purposes of Dublinn without any regret, then, in the second phase, she discards her mask and sets every reed in the map ablaze: No matter how much Eblana speaks of loving her and saying she's important to her, Reed has finally come to terms that Eblana WILL simply sacrifice even her when the moment comes, just as she has no issue setting the world on flames if it furthers her desires. The entirety of the map is just Reed finally coming to terms that if she wants to help the Tarans, in her way, she inevitably will come to blows with Eblana at some point, and that there's no space for hesitation, because Eblana sure as hell won't hesitate.

What The Firelight Casts is ultimately a high-impact bildungsroman in which our protagonist finally finds herself, perhaps for the first time ever since she was a toddler, and finally has agency over what she does and why she does it.

There's other parts to the event that I'm not covering that I think were great as well, such as Bagpipe's characterization being pretty damn good and once more winning me over (I started not really caring for her in any way, but her writing is something I like a lot) with how she's clearly not book smart, but is sharp as all hell, and most would call her "naive", when in reality, it's that she has a rock-hard moral compass and will NEVER stop going where it tells her to go, as well as the Taran survivors having plenty of nice scenes, including the incredibly chilling scene where the older lady that can't see in the dark is holding onto Selmon's hand and suddenly she can feel Selmon's blood all over her arm... We just never know what actually it is that killed her in that night skirmish. Fionn's characterization as this cowardly but good chum that will take responsibility no matter what is... Honestly, man, if you hang around sectors with low education and wealth, you know a Fionn or two. Especially when it comes to oppressed and displaced peoples... And the way the narrative portrays the opportunistic and almost callous nature of a bunch of the Taran runaways at times without vilifying it? It's great, the narrative immediately points out, through Reed and Fionn, that yeah, it's just natural because of how awful they've been treated their entire life, there's always people like that in such groups, doing it not out of cruelty, but simply because, damn, they have to survive, and nothing guarantees to them that this stranger with good intentions actually had good intentions. Trying to survive does things to people. This all becomes water under the bridge after Reed properly bonds with them.

I focused on Reed with this post because she's a favorite of mine and I'm happy to see her growth and where she's aiming for, and how she's grown narratively through her experiences and how that reflects on her Arts: True, Arts are a cool power in the narrative, but for Reed, it's more about how her Arts are intrinsically to her self-loathing in the past, and how they reflect her growth as a person: She went from a reluctant walking nuke who could only destroy and justified this by simply saying "it's because my sister knows better and she's doing it for the end goal of the well-being of Tarans... The end justifies the means" to someone who uses her almost unique powers to soothe others after learning some control over them, control that causes physical pain to her, as controlling her immense power feels as if she's searing from the inside, as if her organs were on fire, and comes to believe that, no, the means do in fact matter a whole damn lot, and that she'll one way or another achieve the end while being mindful of the means, even if it means suffering, if it's for her people. Eblana, who also can control life, uses her powers to 'resurrect' and control the dead like puppets, whereas Reed now sears herself from within in order to precisely control this power in order to help those she wants to protect, and drive away those who would hurt her or her friends. In what's a bit of a segregation of narrative and gameplay, whereas she's known for Explosions in gameplay, in the event, Reed exclusively fights with martial arts. In fact, the only time when she actually uses her Arts, she has to suppress them instantly or she was going to just completely incinerate everyone around her. She turns her surroundings to ashes so quickly that Ch'en can only just stare, wide-eyed, at how she completely incinerated a complete installation of military tents in less than a second, with just a small release of her power.

It's great! I love Reed! I wanted to see her growth, a piece focused on her, and it's what I got. I want to know more about the most loving and caring walking nuclear missile in the world with the most hypnotic tail swishes.

#flamyex #arknights #reed

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littlethingsinlife · 1 year

Text

i'm sorry (happier part 2)

A/N: I was not expecting the amount of positive feedback for the first part and I was even more surprised to see people asking for a part 2! It was originally created to be a one-shot but a part 2 really fit well with how the first one ended. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you again for all of the love and support! I hope you all enjoy. I also want to thank my friend, @tummymoth, they really helped me flush out and refine my rusty ass writing (also let me word vomit at them till midnight sometimes).

Pairing(s): Past Lo’ak x Omatikayan!Reader, Ao’nung x Omatikayan!Reader, Slight mentions of Lo’ak x Tsireya

Warnings: Lo'ak's POV, Swearing, Ao'nung saying something sus ONE time

More Info: My vision for this part 2 was to create a reply in Lo'ak's pov. So we'll have a look at what he experienced and thought process (not too sure if any of that made sense) but I was inspired by Joshua Bassett's song "i'm sorry" and it played constantly as I wrote this. Hopefully I was able to do right by my idea haha.

Summary: 7,547

Part 1: Happier

Key:

(Y/N) = Your Name

Lyrics = Bolded Italics

Flashbacks = Italics

Na'vi Words:

Yuey - beautiful (refers to a person)

Skxawng - idiot/moron

Marui - Pods where the Na’vi live

Ilu - sea creature similar to dolphins

Ikran - dragon-like creature

Tulkun - sentient creatures similar to whales

Olo’eyktan - clan leader/ chief

I thought about what I would say

But I’m two years too late

I can’t imagine how you’re doing these days, hmm

Sure, it wasn’t perfect back then

I’ll be first to admit

But it was better than being strangers again, oh

It had been a couple of months since my interactions with (Y/N) dwindled to terse smiles and barely audible greetings. If you asked me to point out the moment our friendship started to change, I couldn’t tell you. When did our bond start to break? When did it even start to crack? We used to talk every day about all the things we did and planned what pranks to pull on everyone, but now? Now, she barely looked in my direction. Now, she wouldn’t even give me the time of day.

I couldn’t remember when it started, but I knew that it was somehow my fault I grew distant once we arrived in Awa'atlu. I guess I was just so fascinated by the new environment and people, I didn’t even realize a rift started to form between us in the first place, much less that it started to grow.

The night before we left to find a new home, I held (Y/N) as she let out sobs filled with fear and anxiety. It broke my heart, but all I could do was hold her and let her cry until she was calm enough to tell me what was on her mind.

“I-I am afraid, what if the sky people come to find us again? I cannot lose any of you; it would break me into a million pieces,” she sobbed.

“If they find us then we will fight and we will win,” I reassured her, gently rocking her back and forth.

“You are an idiot, I was so close to losing you, to losing Kiri, Tuk, how do you think it would make me feel to lose the most important people in my life?” she sniffled. My chest ached at how broken she sounded, but the only thing I could do was assure her and offer her more words of comfort as I held her in my arms.

“I promise that I will be with you throughout the journey as will my family. We love you, and even if you do not believe it, you are a Sully. And you know what my dad always says.”

“Sullys stick together,” we chorused.

That night, I cradled her in my arms until she fell asleep.

Fuck, I completely broke my promise to her, how could I forget? Shaking my head, I tried to reason to myself, “Maybe she just needs time alone. I’m sure she’ll come running back soon once she realizes that it's no fun without me, her best friend.” I felt a small, unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Right?”

I’m drunk too late talking to the moon

Writing songs I can’t sing to you, ‘cause

“Bah! Stop lying, I know you (Y/N). You would have fought alongside me and defended Kiri. You are not the same girl I knew in the forest back home,” I muttered, rolling my eyes and getting up to leave. Honestly, who did she think she was fooling? The skxawng had the balls to insult Kiri, and all she did was sit back and watch. She didn’t even make a move to help until it was to help him by pulling me off. “Talk to me when you’ve come back to your senses,” I called over my shoulder, refusing to look back.

“Lo’ak! Bro—” a hand roughly grabbed my shoulder, jolting me out of my daze, “why’re you just staring off like that?” I whipped my head to see who the hell it was that was bothering me, only to be met with Neteyam.

“Did you have to grab me that hard?” I hissed before my initial anger gave way to a heavy feeling. “It's nothing, just—just lost in thought” I sighed, shrugging his hand off my shoulder.

“Right, sure, nothing.” he crouched down beside me. “Don’t think you can lie to me lil bro, you’ve been spacing out more than you usually do. I didn’t even think it was possible to be more empty-headed than you already are,” he stated.

“Wha—no I haven’t,” I tried to argue, but of course, he wasn’t convinced.

“Can you stop arguing with me for once and just tell me what’s going on with you, you skxawng?”

I scrunched my nose in distaste and inhaled sharply, “(Y/N) and I have been… distant,” I admitted, turning to look at him. “She won’t even look at me. She either only answers me with one word or doesn’t answer at all.”

He nodded, motioning for me to continue.

“I—the last time we talked, I said things I didn’t mean. Things that just came out because I was so frustrated and… and angry. It was the heat of the moment and I—”

“What did you say skxawng, did you hurt her?” Neteyam interrupted, face twisting to show the beginnings of distaste.

“No, no—” I sputtered and raised my hands to calm him before he could go on an hour-long lecture that I absolutely was not in the mood to hear. “At least I don’t think I did… I just wanted to ask her why the hell she was helping fish lips, that’s all—”

“You didn’t answer me Lo’ak, what did you say to (Y/N)? I don’t care why you did it, I want to know what you said to elicit such a reaction from her.” By Eywa, if he would just give me a chance to get to the point—

“I—I told her that she was not the same girl that I knew back in the forest..." my ears lowered as the weight of what I said slowly sunk in. “And that she could talk to me once she came back to her senses,” I whispered, internally cringing at my harsh words..

“You fucking skxawng—”

“Can you stop calling me that? I already know, you don’t need to keep repeating it…” I scoffed, looking out into the ocean. I’m good enough at beating myself up over the hundreds of times I’ve messed up in this lifetime, I didn’t need another disappointed set of eyes on me.

My ears twitched at the deep sigh he let out. “Look, I’m sorry that I keep calling you skxawng but that is exactly what you are for saying something so hurtful to your best friend of all people. The two of you were inseparable the moment you were born. Even if you don’t want to, suck up your dumbass pride,” my ears flattened again. It wasn’t pride, I’m not prideful. It—it was me needing (Y/N) on my side. We used to always be on the same page, and when she said I was wrong for wanting to defend Kiri against those assholes, it felt like she was siding with them instead of me, and—

Okay, so maybe it was pride.

“Admit that you were wrong, and go talk to (Y/N),” Neteyam insisted as he put a reassuring arm around my shoulders, jostling me around to prove a point. “Your friendship is so much stronger and Eywa knows that a heat-of-the-moment argument isn’t going to break that. You should have more faith in her.” His gaze sharpened before he schooled his expression into something calmer. “Just talk to her, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” I mumbled, swallowing down whatever argument was trying to bubble up from my throat and prying his arm off me. “You’re right. I’ll just clear things up with her and apologize. Everything will go back to normal after that, thanks bro—for listening,” I agreed.

Ever since that day

The things I didn’t say They haunt me, oh

And I know that I’m to blame

So, go ahead and

Blame it on me, oh

Our lessons on the ways of the Metkayina were finished, so it was rare for the entire group to be in the same place. But every once in a while, we all finished our chores at the same time and found ourselves near the shore where we first learned to ride the ilu, and sat around a fire hours before eclipse, laughing and exchanging stories.

The rarity of these moments made me cherish them that much more, but two people continued to miss our not-so-scheduled gatherings the past two moon cycles. How was it possible that they were the only two to keep missing our hangouts? Were they together? Fish lips had better not be doing anything to (Y/N) or so hel—

“(Y/N)! Ao’nung! You guys made it!” Rotxo laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, quit shouting will you?” Ao’nung shot back as he sat down next to Rotxo, (Y/N) smiling softly as she followed.

“So, what’ve you guys been up to? We haven’t seen you in what feels like ten moon cycles.” Neteyam questioned.

“Teyam, you saw me earlier today, you literally helped me feed our ikran,” (Y/N) joked. ‘Teyam? When did she start calling him by anything other than his given name?

Ao’nung swatted her side with his stupidly wide tail and swung an arm around her shoulder with a remarkably punchable smile on his face “More like he was trying to make sure you didn’t accidentally give them your fingers for breakfast. They would’ve gotten indigestion.”

“Haha very funny Ao’nung,” she drawled, “I would’ve fed you to Tekay instead, but she would’ve gagged the moment she caught a whiff of you,” she scoffed as she quickly pushed him away by the chest.

“Wait… Do they even have a gag reflex?” Fish lips didn’t budge, he just had a dumb look of confusion on his face.

“No, but they would defy the laws of biology to gag just for you,” she quipped, sticking out her tongue and moving to push him away again, but the skxawng had the nerve to pull her into a headlock.

“Oh, yuey, the ikran won’t be the only ones gagging on me tonight,” he argued with a smirk.

Did I want to punch that smirk off his face? Did I want to gag? Both? Before I could make a decision, (Y/N) grimaced, pushing him away again and smacking him upside the head.

“That’s actually repulsive. You’re disgusting.”

“Dude, keep it in your pants, her family is right there,” Rotxo laughed, doubled over as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Yeah, we’re right here,” I interjected with a smile—wanting to join in on the jokes that were being thrown around—but it was hard to keep my face from falling when I saw (Y/N)’s bright expression falter.

“Anyway, what were you guys talking about before Ao’nung and I arrived?” she asked in a too-bright tone of voice she only used when she desperately wanted to change the subject. As if everyone came to an unspoken agreement to forget about the conversation before, one by one they all started talking about who they thought would win in a fight—Toruk Makto, or our Olo’eyktan, Tonowari.

The sound of laughter and excited chatter faded as I replayed the previous conversation in my head. When did they start joking around like that? Why the hell did fish lips call her yuey like it was the most natural thing in the world? How come she smiled so easily with him but faltered when she sees me? She was probably smiling with him right now—

I looked over at her, a pit in my stomach already forming at the idea of her smiling at him, but she looked so distant, so withdrawn from everything around her. Before I could even blink, she put a delicate hand on Ao’nung’s arm to grab his attention and mumbled something in a hushed tone. After a few beats of silent conversation, Ao’nung nodded and gave her a look of understanding.

Why did he look at her like that? How much time did they spend together to be able to understand each other with just a look? How much time have I wasted breaking my promise to her while she grew closer to someone else?

Standing up, I made up my mind that I would talk to her and clear up any miscommunication. There was no way in hell I was about to let fish lips ruin our childhood friendship. Before I could even get close, Neteyam pulled me aside.

“Bro, why’re you glaring at everyone?” he asked with concern written all over his face.

“Glaring?” I tilted my head in confusion. “I’m not glaring, this is just my face.”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I’m your brother, I know your face. Whatever look you’ve been throwing at Ao’nung and (Y/N)? You may as well have been throwing knives at them.”

Behind Neteyam, I could see (Y/N) get up to bid everyone good night and slowly walk in our direction. This was my chance, I just needed this overbearing idiot to leave me alone.

“Whatever look you think I’m giving to them, you’re wrong,” I denied. “Can you not act like this right now?” My tail flicked side to side impatiently, an obvious twinge of annoyance clear in my tone. I licked my lips nervously as I could hear footsteps coming closer. Leaning slightly to the side, I looked behind Neteyam to see (Y/N) and—

Ao’nung? What? Why is he there?

“Good night,” (Y/N) muttered, not sparing us a glance as she walked past. I followed her every move and—as if everything slowed down—my eyes narrowed as they found Ao’nung’s hand placed on her lower back, leading her gently in the direction of the marui.

I know that I’m too late

But I’ll say it anyway

I’m sorry

Though it's far too late

“I did it! Did you see that Reya?” I shouted—out of breath—as I showed off the shell Tsireya threw.

“Yes, yes you did it!” She exclaimed, excitedly wrapping her hand around mine. For someone who spent so much time underwater, her hand radiated so much warmth. So easy to hold. My heart swelled with pride as she continued to compliment me. “You’ve improved so much!”

“Yeah? Well, I had a great teacher,” I joked, nudging her softly with my shoulder. It wasn’t just her hands that were warm either, she just seemed to radiate it.

“Oh stop, you flatter me too much,” she denied, fidgeting with her hair. Was that a blush on her face? “C’mon, why don’t we catch up with the others? Private lessons are officially done for the day,” she announced as she led me to shore. Oh Eywa, she looked so pretty like this, with her hair flowing down her back and the way her eyes cast down when she became flustered. And her smile, it was a smile that could knock the air out of my lungs.

While we walked onto shore, we joked around and laughed with each other, talking about anything and everything. The ease of each reply and joke came as smoothly as gliding through the water on an ilu—as easy as breathing. Laughing at another one of Tsireya’s jokes, my eyes scanned the village as we approached it. Families were winding down for the day as they cooked dinner, although I didn’t see mine anywhere nearby aside from Kiri.

My smile slowly dropped when I was able to make out Kiri looking frantically around as if she was searching for someone. Tsireya and I made our way to her, worry filling the pit in my stomach. As we got closer, I could see Ao’nung climb down one of the roots of the Mangrove trees and make a beeline toward her. My eyes stayed on both of them, making sure that fish lips didn’t do anything to Kiri.

Ears twitching I was able to make out the words, “(Y/N)? Did you find her? ” from Kiri as they were carried on the wind toward us.

“Yeah I did, I was able to get her to eat, but she’s not looking too good,” Ao’nung replied with concern lacing his voice.

Brows furrowing, I pulled Ao’nung by the shoulder. “What do you mean she’s not looking good? Where is she? What did you do?”

“What the hell do you mean? I didn’t do shit, freak.” I rolled my eyes at the insult. He couldn’t use that thick head of his to think of anything else to call me? From the pained look on his face, I could tell that my grip on his shoulder had too much pressure. Good. Served him right.

Before Ao’nung and I could continue our argument Kiri groaned, “Will the both of you skxawng shut up! I’ll go talk to her.” My eyes followed her retreating form as she went to talk to (Y/N)—tail lashing back and forth in agitation all the while—before turning back to Ao’nung.

Who the hell did he think he was? I’d beat his skxawng ass if he hurt (Y/N) in any way. He had no right to look so damn worried. They weren’t even close. What even happened? How long had she been missing for Kiri to go to fish lips of all people for help? Should I follow Kiri? Why didn’t (Y/N) come to me? She always came to me, and if she came to me now, I absolutely would have listened. Why—

“Lo’ak? Hey, are you okay? Lo’ak?” a hand softly placed itself on my arm. Closing my eyes in frustration, I sighed.

“Yeah, perfectly fine.”

Damn it, was that when it started? How idiotic and blind have I been that I didn’t even notice that her trust in me started to slip and die when it was right in front of me? Why didn’t I go to her and make sure she was okay? I should’ve punched that idiot’s lights out—

“Ao’nung! Stop pulling me you skxawng, you’re walking too fast, slow down!” a hushed voice chastised.

“C’mon yuey, we only have about an hour before eclipse, we have to hurry!” His voice grated against my ears as he responded.

“That’s plenty of time!” (Y/N) insisted. I could hear the laughter bubbling up in her voice as she chased after him. “Please Ao’nung slow down, I can’t keep up.”

“It can’t be helped, you’re so short—” a whack could be heard. “Ow!”

“I’m as tall as Tsireya, you giant!”

“Both you and my sister are short—Ow! Alright, just because you did that, you leave me no choice,” Ao’nung said, throwing (Y/N) over his shoulder with a laugh.

The bickering voices got closer, and my eyes narrowed at the way he held her. My breath hitched as he whispered something in her ear that made her ears perk up and her eyes widen. What the hell was he saying to her? Before I could spring up from my spot, Ao’nung tossed (Y/N) in the water, her yelp quickly interrupted by the sound of her body hitting the water.

I stayed in my spot as shock zipped through my body. Letting out a breath I didn’t know I held, her head popped out of the water, a playful glare on her face.

“I told you, you left me no choice,” he stated, guffawing at her expression.

“Oh yeah?” she groused, spitting out seawater as she wrung out her hair. “Well fuck you too. Help me out of here?”

“Only if you say the magic word,” he taunted, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Otherwise, I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

“Please, oh great son of our Olo’eyktan, help me out of the ocean,” she beckoned dramatically, sarcasm dripping from every word while she rolled her eyes. “It’s about time you recognized my proud lineage, forest dweller,” he said as his chest puffed out with a hand reaching towards (Y/N). And there was that stupid smile on his face.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a mischievous smile spreading across her face as she reached for his hand, making sure to tug with enough force to unceremoniously yank him into the water.

“So much for the son of a great warrior! Your instincts are shit!”

“My instincts are dull you say?” he questioned as his head popped up next to her. “We’ll see about that!”

“Wha—AHHH—'' she wheezed. “No, please Ao’nung stop! That tickles!” Her arms flailed wildly in an attempt to free herself from his grasp.

What the fuck.

My ears flattened at an angle as I tried to process the scene unfolding before me. When did she start laughing with him? That should’ve been me she was laughing with. Not him, not the skxawng who had been nothing but rude to us since we arrived. What… what was I even saying—Fuck I didn’t know anymore. Why did I feel like this every time I saw them together… laughing and making jokes like we used to?

And it was me, it wasn’t you

It’s cliche, but it’s true

I wasn’t thinking how I usually do, oh

And is your momma doing well?

Or does she still hate me?

But it was hard to watch me put you through hell

I’m drunk, too late, talking to the moon, ooh

Writing songs I can’t sing to you, ‘cause

Two weeks had passed since I started noticing the changes in (Y/N)’s relationship—friendship?—with Ao’nung. It was like every time I blinked, I could see her laughing loudly as Ao’nung tickled her with a triumphant smile on his stupid face. Since that day, I had been trying to find a way to talk to (Y/N), but she was never alone. She was always with him and when she wasn’t, she disappeared and I couldn’t find her no matter how hard I looked.

Now here I was, wandering around trying to look for her as I rehearsed what I wanted to tell her.

Where could she be? Dinner was in an hour and she wasn’t anywhere near our marui. I had to find her soon so there would be enough time for us to talk. I had to tell her that I miss her, that I was sorry for being so dumb, that I shouldn’t have let my pride blind me, and that I didn’t mean any of the things I said.

There was only one place I hadn’t looked yet… hopefully she was there.

As I was getting closer to the root Kiri stalked to, I could see two silhouettes beside each other. An all-too-familiar feeling bloomed in my chest once I registered that she was there with him.

Her melodic laughter made my steps falter. I clenched my fists tightly, contemplating if I should go over there and pull her away, force her to talk to me, to listen. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do that to her, not when she looked so content, so happy.

Ever since that day

The things I didn’t say

They haunt me, oh

I know that I’m to blame

So, go ahead and

Blame it on me, oh

“Lo’ak? You said you were going to look for (Y/N) and never came back. She’s already in the marui helping mom cook,” Kiri stated, a twinge of annoyance lacing her voice. “Hey, are you listening?” She shook my arm slightly, making me jump out of my stupor.

“Yeah, sorry, you said dinner was ready?” I asked as I stared off.

The sand beside me crunched softly as Kiri made a move to sit beside me. “No, I said that (Y/N) is with mom helping her cook. Where is your head at?” she asked as she tilted her head to try and meet my gaze. “Are you alright?” The annoyance in her voice shifted to concern.

“I’m fine, yep—just… fine,” I brushed her off, hoisting myself up to head towards Mom and Dad for dinner before Kiri yanked me back down.

“Lo’ak, don’t pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Tell me what’s going on,” she urged. “Maybe I can help you with whatever it is that’s occupied your mind lately.”

I inhaled sharply, debating if I should tell her what had been muddying my mind, the reason why I had been so spaced out, why I had been glaring daggers at fish lips each time I saw his stupid face next to (Y/N)—how confused I was.

“Stop with the thinking skxawng, you might hurt yourself,” she admonished. “Just tell me. It’s not like I can’t handle it.”

Huffing, I rolled my eyes and turned away from her to look at the sea. I hadn't even said anything yet and Kiri was already making me feel idiotic. How was I supposed to tell her what's been going on like this? Maybe if I kept quiet for long enough, she would get tired of waiting for me to start talking and go on to eat dinner without me.

A couple of minutes of silence passed.

I could still feel her staring at me.

“I’ve—I’ve been conflicted,” I started, tongue feeling heavy in my mouth as I continued to stare at the shoreline. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“What do you mean?” Kiri nudged my shoulder with hers. “Elaborate a little more, I can’t help if you don’t tell me the reason why you’re feeling confused.”

“...Whenever I see (Y/N) with Ao’nung, it’s as if I can feel my heart aching,” I said, motioning toward my chest to prove my point. “There’s always a… a surge of anger that rushes through me. All I want to do is pull her away from him so then everything can go back to the way things used to be—for us to be okay.”

“Lo’ak…” If I was looking at her, I’d probably see Kiri tilt her head with sympathy. But sympathy isn’t what I needed right now.

“I want her to look at me and smile, to laugh with me, hug me—but now, whenever I get close to her, she’s next to him, laughing with him, cracking the jokes we would make to each other… I just—” I rubbed at my face in frustration. It wasn’t as if the words were hard to come by—I had spent so much time bottling them up that it was hard to stop talking. No, I just hated the fact that I felt this way in the first place. “I don’t understand why seeing them makes me feel like my heart is about to explode—why it makes me want to scream. It hurts.”

“Lo’ak” she put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you—are you in love with (Y/N)?”

Love?

I sputtered in surprise and whipped my head toward Kiri to see if she was joking or not. What kind of a sick question was that? I wasn’t in the mood for any games.

“What? No, she’s like my… sister?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “If you’re not, then why does seeing her with Ao’nung hurt you so much? Why do you care as much as you do?”

“I shouldn’t!” I wrenched my shoulder away from her hand and stood up. The need to move around and do something—anything—was too much. There was too much energy thrumming right beneath my skin to sit still anymore.

“That’s the problem! After everything I said to her, done to her? I don’t have the right to say I’m in love with her. She’s my childhood friend, Kiri. That’s all our relationship has ever been… I just—” I paused in thought and tried to calm down. “I didn’t realize seeing her have so much fun with someone else would make me feel so, so hollow—”

“Let me ask you something, you have to promise to be completely honest with me, okay?”

I nodded, not even looking in her direction.

“When (Y/N) tried to pull you off from Ao’nung that one fight months ago, what did you feel? Angry? Betrayed? Jealous?”

Jealous? Did she really think I was sulking for months because of such a petty feeling? I’m not a jealous person. I never have been.

“Seeing her jump in to get me off him made me feel like she was siding with him and telling me that I was wrong. Her actions were clear as day to me, Kiri.” I started to pace around. “She was protecting him—caring for him when she should’ve been next to me, helping and supporting me. When she did that—I felt like the only person that’s ever been on my side—” I croaked and turned my head to look at Kiri as tears stung my eyes “The only person who didn’t see everything I did as some sort of disappointment or failure, abandoned me and chose someone else.”

“...”

“I know that I could’ve approached her a different way but how could I when I felt so broken?” I inhaled sharply, eyebrows furrowed. “ It’s all fish lips’ fault. If he wasn’t such an asshole, none of this would have happened, and (Y/N) and I would still be the same, she would still be by my side—supporting me, loving me.”

“Why do you keep blaming it on Ao’nung?”

“Because it is his fault that things have turned out the way it has.” I threw my hands up, exasperated. What wasn’t Kiri getting? “He’s getting in between my relationship—er—friendship with (Y/N)! If he wasn’t there I would be able to talk to her and tell her I’m sorry, but she’s always with him—”

“Stop! Are you hearing yourself?” She nudged at my foot to interrupt and scoffed. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? (Y/N) told me what you said to her, how ‘she wasn’t the same girl’ you knew back in the forest. Do you know what happened when you told her that? Do you know how much pain she was in?”

Pain? I snorted, turning towards Kiri. “Now I know what you’re saying is bullshit. You know how (Y/N) is—if she really was pissed at me she would’ve come to me instead of running to someone else.”

“She wasn’t pissed. She cried because of you, Lo’ak. Because of what you said.” I stopped dead in my tracks to look at her. Kiri's eyes didn’t waver. Another heavy feeling settled on my chest and clawed its way up my throat. If you had asked me what it was, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Was I sad? Guilty? Angry? Was I jealous like she said?

I settled on anger.

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying—”

“The person that found her that night, the one who comforted her? That was Ao’nung. He held her in his arms as she sobbed when I found them.” She stood up too, forcing me to stop pacing.

“The last thing I want to hear about right now is him, Kiri. What the fuck—”

“Did you ever think about why she’s so comfortable with him now? Why they’re so close? While you ignored her for weeks, he made sure she was okay—made sure she ate every day. He didn’t leave her side until she finished,” Kiri pointed out, and before I could even think to open my mouth to remind her how shitty he was to her especially, she cut me off. “Yes, he was an asshole at the beginning, and yes he has a screwed-up way to show he cares, but he stepped up when you fucked up.” She poked my chest with a glare before she continued.

“Oh, so I’m a fuck-up now?” I asked wryly.

“You can’t put all the blame on someone that took care of your best friend. Stop being so blinded by your pride and hatred and see that you’re the real reason why your relationship with (Y/N) isn’t the same as it used to be.”

My heart sank a little more as I scrambled for something to say. “How could you say that—”

“No, you do not get to interrupt me right now, Lo’ak.” Her eyes flashed with something closer to anger than annoyance. When was the last time I saw her angry? “Listen and listen well. When we couldn’t find (Y/N) and we were looking for her everywhere—he was the one that found her spot, the one she isolated herself to so she could cry alone, and no one would see how much pain she was in. And what were you doing in the meantime?”

My ears flattened at her rising tone, and I was finally beginning to understand the weight stuck in my throat and chest. Not anger, not even jealousy.

“You were out there with Tsireya, stuck in your own little world.”

It was my fault.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy that you found her but you can’t have both of them. You can’t be that selfish. From (Y/N)’s perspective, you’ve already chosen the one you want.”

“It’s not like I’ve actually chosen anyone yet,” I tried to interject, but all the fight had left my voice as Kiri’s words dug into my skin and sunk in.

“Don’t you dare play with either of their feelings. (Y/N) held so much love for you in her heart, she allowed herself to break to the point of no repair because she didn’t want to show you how much it hurt her to see you at your happiest with Tsireya.” She paused before continuing, her voice losing its edge. “Let her move on, brother. And if it’s Ao’nung that makes her light up the way she used to, then you suck it up and let him. He was there when your pride wouldn’t even let you apologize or even look in her direction. Actually think about how she feels for once.”

I hated the fact that there wasn’t anything I could say to prove her wrong.

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about nowadays,” I muttered.

I know that I’m too late

But I’ll say it anyway

I’m sorry

I’m sorry, hmm

I’m sorry

Though it’s far too late

“I thought I was already doing that,” a faint voice huffed in annoyance. Turning the corner, I saw Ao’nung and (Y/N) standing on the beach together— far too close for my liking.

“You were, but you got sloppy. Here, you have to move your hips like this,” he said as he corrected her posture. My ears flattened against my head as he put a hand on her hip and gently directed her movement.

Why did he look so gentle with her?

“Ao’nung,” (Y/N)’s voice rang out, clear as crystal despite her uncertain tone. “Are you sure you should be teaching me this? This is a traditional Metkayina dance, right? I’m…” she hesitated, her voice becoming smaller. “I’m not Metkayina—”

“Yet.” He interrupted, holding her face in his hands. “You are not Metkayina yet. Once you become one of us, you will have to learn the dance to celebrate the return of our spirit brothers and sisters, so why not learn that now?” I hated how reassuring his voice was. The thought of how either of their eyes looked as they held contact made my stomach turn.

“Yeah… you’re right,” she mumbled with an unsure look on her face.

“Woah, hey pretty girl, look at me,” he insisted, laying his hands on her shoulders and bending his neck so they were at eye level. “I’m serious when I say you will become Metkayina one day, so don’t worry yourself over it right now. Okay?” Ao’nung tilted his head to the side, an unbelievably soft expression on his face. “You have me here to help you.”

“Alright…” (Y/N) mumbled, not convinced.

“If you don’t get rid of that look on your face I’ll throw you into the water,” he said as his face shifted from sincerity to something mischievous. “Or worse… I’ll tickle you,” he threatened.

“You better not Ao’nung, or I swear to the Great Mother herself I will hu—AHH—get away, you skxawng!'' She laughed as she tried to run away, but Ao’nung grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her into his arms. And despite her words of protest, it was clear as day that she was leaning into him while they scuffled on the sand.

“No!” she shrieked with glee. “You can’t make me go in there again!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, forest dweller!”

A thought occurred. Should I go up to them? We never got the chance to talk, after all. I took a few steps in their direction before freezing. When was the last time I heard her laugh like that? She had the biggest smile on her face, and the one who made that happen wasn’t me—it was him.

And if you ever hear this

I hope you know that

I’m not proud of who I’ve been, ooh

And if I see you again

I hope you know that

I wish you nothing but the best

And my biggest regret

The afternoon was quiet, relative silence only interrupted by the crashing of waves. Without much to do, I just sat in our marui and lazed around with Tuk until a horn blew.

“The tulkun have returned! Everybody—our brothers and sisters have returned!” Tsireya’s voice rang out, and when I poked my head out to see what the fuss was about, I saw the megawatt smile on her face, as she swam by on her ilu.

The village came to life as everyone mounted either ilu or canoe to make their way to the tulkun. From here, I could see little more than a large group of dark shapes making their way through the water. Payakan himself was dauntingly huge, but to see a whole pod of them show up like this? It was spectacular. I watched the commotion unfold from one of the walkways, lost in thought before I felt water splashing at my feet.

“Come on Lo’ak! Don’t just stand there, let’s go see the tulkun together!” Tsireya urged, still smiling. Shaken out of my stupor, I grinned widely—diving into the water and clambering onto her ilu. lu may be lithe animals, but I could still feel sinuous muscle under velvety skin as it made adjustments in the water to keep balance.

“I’ll come, but only if you’re offering a ride,” I joked, gently holding her waist and playfully leaning onto her. The cool water around us made her skin feel that much warmer. It was nice.

Before I could see her reaction—I would’ve bet anything at that moment that her cheeks had become flushed—we began to quickly make our way toward the rest of the clan and the giant tulkun.

The air around me vibrated with the excitement and happiness of loved ones returning, and Tsireya was no exception—the speed of the ilu gave away her eagerness to be with her spirit sister. As we leaped into and out of the water, Tsireya’s laughter was carried by the wind and reached my ears. That, and the answering whoops and bellows of Metkayina and tulkun alike, was almost contagious enough to get carried away by the energy surrounding us.

“My spirit sister is down there,” she said as she dismounted, sliding off her ilu and into the water. “Wait here, yeah?” she smiled at me before diving down.

I was more than happy to watch the Na’vi around me. Looking around, I was in awe of the sheer amount of tulkun gathered in one area, and how each Metkayina was able to identify their spirit sisters or brothers so easily. Looking down into the shifting waters, I saw Tsireya catching up with her spirit sister, waving her hands around and swimming through the water alongside her.

All around, I could hear people telling stories and the deep, booming calls of the tulkun as they responded with tales of their own. New parents were showing their babies and calves, and as my eyes scanned the horizon, I could see small children holding onto the tulkun’s fins as they were lifted to the glittering ocean surface.

Not too far away, I heard the sound of a body hitting the water and the sound of grating, but familiar laughter along with an indignant (Y/N) sputtering.

“Ao’nung, what the fu—”

“Hey, hey, relax! It’s just some water. There are children here, yuey,” Ao’nung chided with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“The parents of those children are going to have to explain what it means to return to Eywa once I’m through with you,” she retorted, treading water and becoming even more unamused when he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Woah there pretty girl, you’re talking to the son of the mightiest warrior in all of Pandora—”

“That’s funny, I don’t see Neteyam here,” she interjected, pretending to search the waters around them before turning back to Ao’nung and tilting her head, “do you?”

“Just because you said that you can have fun finding your own way back to shore,” he said as he turned his ilu around.

“Oh, c’mon Ao’nung, don’t be like that,” she rolled her eyes and reached a hand towards him. “You’d really leave me here to fend for myself?”

He turned and wagged a disapproving finger at her, “I’ll consider forgiving you if you say word-for-word that I’m the son of the mightiest warrior in all of Pandora. I can’t have you slandering my father’s name, yuey.” She groaned and leaned back into the water.

“You couldn’t pay me enough to say that load of bull—”

“Nope!” he didn’t give her a chance to defile the ears of any nearby children and crossed his arms. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“...”

“I’m still waiting.”

With a sardonic smile, she finally caved. “Why don’t I do you one better? You’re the mightiest warrior to exist since the time of the First Songs,” she declared, sarcasm dripping from every word as she slapped at the water for emphasis.

“That’s what I thought, was that so hard?” Even if I wasn’t able to see them, I still would have been able to hear the stupidly wide smile that made its way across his face.

“Don’t be such a big baby and let me meet your spirit brother!”

“Just because he’s here to visit today, I’ll let that one slide for now.” Ao’nung rolled his eyes, dismounting his ilu to join (Y/N). “Now hold on tight and hold your breath like how we practiced.”

We? Who the fuck was we? Why was he allowing her to meet his spirit brother? Why were they looking at each other like that?

I watched both of their silhouettes submerge and breathed deeply, forcing my thundering heart to calm as I slowly sank my head into the water. At first, all I could see were blobs floating around in the water, but once my eyes adjusted, I could see the fluid movement of Ao’nung talking to his spirit brother. Eyebrows furrowing, I swam a little closer and hoped that I would be able to see what was being signed. With each movement made, it was clear that Ao’nung was translating the clicks and bellows of the tulkun to (Y/N), and whatever was being said made her smile widen by the second.

I couldn’t watch anymore as my chest burned from the lack of air and I resurfaced to catch my breath. For once, I was thankful for the lack of lung capacity I had. I climbed back onto Tsireya’s ilu. Seeing as she wasn’t back yet, I sat back and leaned on its neck to face the sky.

Did she always glow like that when she smiled? Whenever she was with him—she always looked so happy, so vibrant. Would she have looked like that with me by her side if I didn’t push her away? If I was there for her like I had promised? I wanted to tell her sorry—that I was sorry for taking our friendship for granted, for making her go through it alone. I wish that it didn’t take seeing her smile and laugh with someone else to make me realize how I felt.

I willed my tears to go away.

Is this how she felt? Seeing me with Tsireya? Great Mother… I was truly horrible, wasn’t I? I wished things turned out differently. Maybe in another universe, I did talk to her—realized sooner, made her happier—but now? Right now, my heart was torn in two, watching as someone else picked up the pieces of the heart I crushed. No amount of words could fix what we used to have, and even though I wanted to whisk her away, tell her I love her—that I see her—that seeing her with him made my skin crawl, I knew I couldn’t. I was no longer worthy to be part of her life, because of me and my actions alone.

I had become nothing but a stranger.

Ever since that day

The things I didn’t say

They haunt me

I know that I’m to blame

So go ahead and

Blame it on me, ooh

I know that I’m too late

But I’ll say it anyway

I’m sorry

Hmm, I’m sorry

Oh-oh-oh-oh, I’m sorry

Taglist: @midnightliacr @immortalbloodhuntress @arminsfloll @whenercolorfulrainbowlol @dakotali @lexilander27 @zatarias-pandora @vanillawhale @kazupop @owaowaowawa @sopiasleeps @siabhshjsjsjsjshznzn @jimfiqs @ihave500hubbiez

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natsarrownecklacx · 11 months

Text

My Sweet Girl

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count- 1,452

Summary- Your having a rough time but Natasha’s there to hold you and help you feel better.

Basted on a request

Warnings- Hurt/ Comfort, allusion to suicidal thoughts, Reader has bipolar, description of depressive episode( unedited writing )

⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if we had never met?”

The words catch you off guard even as they leave your mouth. You hadn’t intended to say them out loud, despite the constant loop of the 15 words over and over in your head for the better half of an hour.

You supposed that, after hearing them on repeat for so long, you kinda just get numb to them, giving them the opportunity to slip from your lips.

Natasha removes her eyes from her laptop and lets them drift towards you. From her position on the couch across from you you can see the clear confusion written on her face. She tilts her head slightly to the side, a very on brand Natasha way to signal you to elaborate.

“Because I do.” You admit hesitantly, causing Natasha’s look of confusion to grow. “I think about it all the time. About what life would be like if I had never met you. In fact, lately, I find myself thinking about it more and more.”

Worry begins to grow on Natasha’s face, she knows where you are going with this, but it doesn’t make it any earlier to actually hear you say these things out loud. “Dekta…” She says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Slowly, she lifts her hand from the keyboard and closes the laptop. She doesn’t take her eyes off of you as she does so, doesn’t save what she’d previously been working on, doesn’t pay any mind to the ‘clunk’ noise the device makes as she drops it to the floor. She simply moves it out of her way, eager to give you her full attention.

“I don’t think I’d be who I am today without you.” You say, fighting with yourself over if you should say your next words or not. But inevitably, you do, despite how scary it is to say them out loud. “I don’t think I’d even be alive today if it weren’t for you.”

A single tear slides down your cheek as you utter the words. Its presence makes something uncomfortable shift in Natasha’s chest.

She hasn’t let the full weight of your words rest on her yet. She doesn’t want to think about what would happen if you gave in one day, gave up fighting and let the darkness take you. What she would do without you in her life to love and to be loved by.

“And I think you’d be a lot happier. Your life would be so much easier.” You say, giving life to the thoughts that have been on your mind the last few days, causes something to settle on your chest.

Something big and heavy. Something scary. Something painfully familiar. Clawing away at the inside of your chest as though it has a right to be there, as though you are the intruder in your own body and this dark heavy feeling wants you out. Wants your body all to itself.

You don’t want to let it take you, don’t want to think about what you might do if you let it, but damn it you're so tired. Maybe too tired to fight it this time.

The realization causes more tears to fall from your eyes. As if your body wants to make room for the darkness to make its home inside you.

Natasha jumps from her place on the couch, making quick work of covering the distance between you. She takes you in her arms, one hand on your back pulling you into her and the other on the back of your head, holding you against her chest as you cry.

Natasha gently rocks you both side to side, her head tucked against the top of yours, mumbling soothing words against your hair.

“Shh, Detka. Shh it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere I promise.” She whispers, hoping that at least some part of her words get through to you, that the darkness will let you believe her.

You choke back a sob at Natashas words, your hold on her tightening, afraid you might let her go.

You could have let her go, if you hadn’t told her how you’ve been feeling, if you hadn’t taken that scary first step. You mightn’t ever have held her in your arms again, never felt her warmth or love again.

The thought is terrifying, so much so that you begin to shake.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You sob into her chest, pulling, holding her tighter, trying to bury yourself in her chest, to disappear.

Natasha swears she can feel her head break inside her chest. She’s never loved another person the way she loves you, so purely and wholeheartedly to the point that her love for you consumes her.

She hates seeing you go through this, the constant ups and downs with little to no way of predicting how bad it will get or how long it will go on for.

“Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. It’s okay. You're here, you're safe, you're with me. I have you.”

Natasha continues to mumble words of reassurance to you, rocking you both back and forth gently until your cries have subsided. You both sit in silence for a minute, Natasha running her hand through your hair and up and down your back while you listen to hear heartbeat.

“I’m sorry I’m like this.” You say after a while, your hand resting flat against her chest, next to your head, feeling her heartbeat under your palm.

You feel Natasha shaking her head above you, but the tears landing in your hair go unnoticed by you. “No, sweetheart. You don’t need to apologize. I know this isn’t easy for you. I might not fully understand how hard it is for you but I see it, Detka.”

A tear slips down your face at Natasha’s words. But this time it’s not a tear of sadness or pain, it’s a tear of relief. She understands, she’s patient, she cares.

“But I’m so proud of you for trying, Detka. I’m so proud of you and the way you keep moving, even though I know you don’t want to.”

She’s seen it all, the ups and downs, the hyper almost manic optimism, the painful, draining depressive episodes. And she still loves you, she’s still here, holding you as though you're the most important thing to her. And you are.

“And I am so so grateful for you, my sweet girl. I’m so grateful that you continue to be brave and come to me when you need to, that you tell me when you need help, and that you’re still with me.”

You know what she means by that last line. She knows you’d never leave her, you love her far too much for that. But you don’t always feel strong enough to stay. Sometimes going away seems like the best option for everyone. In those moments, Natasha’s always there to remind you of otherwise, to remember you how loved you are.

This helps, being in her arms like this. On days when you can’t even move, on days when the smallest tasks feel too big for you, Natasha helps. Sometimes just being around her helps. It’s one of the many reasons why you love her.

“I love you Natasha. So much, and I am so so grateful for you too.” You say quietly, looking up at her.

You’d like to promise her you’ll stay. That you’ll be strong for her, that your love for her will be enough to keep you moving on even your worst days. But you know better than to make a promise like that. So you don’t.

“I’ll love you forever and always.” You say instead, meaning each word with your whole heart.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.” Natasha says, smiling down at you. “Forever and always.”

And that’s enough. For Natasha, it's enough that you love her and she loves you. It’s enough that she gets to hold you like this right now, feel the weight of your body on hers, feel your heartbeat and hear each inhale of breath you take.

Natasha knows you can’t promise her forever, she would never ask that of you. But you're doing as she asked, you're coming to her when you need her. And Natasha counts her blessings each day that you do. That you trust her enough to come to her.

She just needs to trust that you’ll continue to do that. That you’ll let her help, let her love you. Trust isn’t something that she gives lightly, but you have hers. Unequivocally.

A trust that she did not misplace. One that you honored and treasured. Every day.

⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗<3 ⧗

A/n- don’t forget to try drink some water and have a snack today plssssss

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff hurt comfort

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evelili · 7 months

Note

I know it’s been ages since I sent one of these, I’ve been busy and I’m still busy so I don’t have time to read the full chapter BUT!! Here’s some of my thoughts and favorite lines from the beginning of this chapter. The Final Trial.

I really love how you write the memory sequences in this story. They all flow really well and don’t feel redundant!! The reveal of these memories twilight has hidden of Luna are so good!! God!! Her devastation when she realized she had forgotten someone as important as Celestia’s SISTER her AUNT is AMAZING!!

her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her legs bare below the knees of a ridiculous pink-and-purple skort that she’d have been mortified to wear past puberty—eight or nine, then, she decided. It’s probably summertime, too.

God this mental image is so cute!! I had to google what skorts are but yeah they definitely fit Twilight and her character, especially as a kid!!

Twilight waited for her younger self to voice the familiar retort she thought she’d known her entire life—magic isn’t real; magic doesn’t exist; magic is fictional and fantastical and lies. But instead of a rational dismissal she heard her voice ask something completely wrong instead:

“You’re really going to show me how?”

And Twilight didn’t hear anything else after that.

DAMNNN this sequence is so good!! The way twilights world is just DESTROYED by this is fantastic!!

“Well, I wanted to check in on the two of you.” The door swung further open, and suddenly Twilight was face-to-face with the Celestia of her childhood—younger by nearly a decade and yet still recognizable in almost every way. She hadn’t ever thought time had changed her mentor much, but the contrast between present and past was far more blatant when not viewed as a gradual shift. No laugh lines. No grey hairs. No ice in her eyes.

Just a Celestia whose very presence made Someone bristle in response.

This description of her is DEVASTATING. She’s both somehow unhappier and so much happier with Luna in her life. The way you write her is stunning and I’m loving the conflict between her wanting Luna to focus on the future and Luna who is focused on enjoying the present. It’s a very cool conflict and I love how you’re handling it!! Them both caring more about twilights emotions than each other’s is heartbreaking

It did—to both the Twilight of the present and the past. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I get it.”

Fuck this line is FANTASTIC. The understanding twilight finds in her memories of Luna are fantastic and I’m very curious on how this will impact how she handles Nightmare going forward. Unfortunately I can’t read anymore tonight, but I love it so far!!

STOP THE CLOCK. I FORGOT THIS BANGER LINE: “You believe in magic, Twilight,” she said gently. “And so long as you do, that’s belief enough for me.” The way you write Luna and how much she and celestia both love twilight is DEVASTATING

(combined ur two asks together) WAHHHH thank u so much for the asks!!! and no worries abt taking ur time w the story, u only get to read once for the first time after all!

this chapter is definitely Up There in terms of how happy i am with how it turned out, im rlly glad u liking it so far! i dont know how much i can say without spoiling things, but a reminder to read on fimfic to get the Full Experience (epub missing images my nemesis), a rather important section will b missing otherwise!!

i think to me a big aspect of luna and celestia's relationship in the show that kinda got glossed over was that celestia may not have realized how her actions affected luna until too late. and, it's kind of the "road to hell with good intentions" thing, bc i dont think celestia is the bad guy (at least in tte) for believing that the best way to help someone is plan, prepare, try to think ahead and look forward, etc. but, this kind of mindset can clash with someone who, at that moment, finds the prospect of thinking about the future so impossible. writing from life helped a lot in this regard :)

also, completely unrelated but also related, have a meme :D and thanks again for reading!

#tte #mlp fanfic #my art #twilight sparkle #scitwi #celestia #princess celestia #luna #princess luna #my brain has so much serotonin rn skitty u dont understand #i appreciate u so much!!!

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yandere-wishes · 6 months

Note

BOY DO I HAVE IDEAS FOR YANDERE!FIVES

I wrote hcs for him years ago but i'll paraphrase some points from there:

Fives is a (mostly) harmless yandere who just really wants to please you! When he falls, he falls fast and deep. Once he decides he likes you and you're going to be his cyare (what I like to call a clone's darling), he's latched onto you and he will never leave. No matter how much you try to leave him, he will find you. Where there's a will, there's a way. Romantic.

"Where are you going? I'll come with you!"

Echo's a little jealous now that all of Fives' attention is focused on you but he's happy Fives has found his cyare.

As soft as he is for you, it doesn't mean he won't get violent. But not to you, never you! Compared to his brothers, Fives is calmer and prefers nonviolent means to get rid of anyone he perceives as competition but as soon as anyone makes you upset is having an unfortunate encounter staring down the end of his blaster barrel (away from you ofc).

Oh, and don't think you can come to the Jedi or other clones for help. Most of the Jedi are enabling and the clones work together and help each other out with their cyares. You're stuck with him <3

Fives is literally the LOVE OF MY LIFE!! I have been obsessed with him since episode 5 and am so happy to learn that he and Echo will be getting more screen time!!

You're 100% right, when Fives falls HE FALLS HARD. Poor baby can't get you out of his mind, constantly thinking about how soft your skin feels when you accidentally brushed past him in the halls. How sweet your laughter is when you giggle at a joke. How delicious your lips would taste when you grace him with kisses. How melodious your voice would sound uttering his name. You're just so dreamy and he's desperate to have you. I think the first thing he'd do when he realizes he can't get you out of his head is go to either Rex or Cody (Or maybe Anakin) to ask for advice. Obviously his older brothers (and general) wouldn't mind giving him some guidance. Tips on how to win her over. Ballpark estimates of what girls like (following the ever-basic "buy her flowers, girls love that stuff"). The most effective way of killing off anyone who gets too close to her without her tracing it back to you. Where the Chloroform is kept (You can't just hit your cyare in the back of the head with a blaster, it's just not right vod) They're all so helpful. Fives definitely takes their advice, although admittedly he'd be happier if you fell in love with him on your own accord. He'd feel kinda bad about kidnapping you.

Now Fives is definitely the clingy type. Trailing after you like a lost puppy, he's actually kinda excited when you leave the Jedi temple cause that means the two of you can go outside together. He's got no sense of personal space, constantly holding your hand or having an arm around your waste.

"Hold on mesh'la! Why are you walking so fast? It almost looks like you're trying to get away from me."

Tup and Echo are a little annoyed with how much of their vod's time you occupy. And how he's always talking about you. Still, they're happy for him and they'll do anything to make sure you stay with Fives. Despite their jealousy, they do try to be good wingmen. Even if that means stalking you through the streets of Coruscant. And forcefully dragging you back into Fives loving arms.

I agree!! He's totally super protective of his cyare!! Making sure that anyone who hurts you (physically or emotionally) is dealt with rapidly. He also likes to eliminate competition before it fully arises. Oh, someone looked at you from across the dance floor. Their corpse will be found the next morning in the trashcan. Did some guy ask for your number? Well, they had to take a quick "trip" to the "outer rim", so you won't be hearing from them for a while. After some time I feel like his darling would just give up and accept that they can't leave him. He's a great lover and he's so cute, I can't help but imagine that reader slowly starts to fall (very hard) for Fives too!!

The Jedi totally encourage this behavior. The poor clone troopers need love too! Anakin is super proud of Fives for picking such a sweet girl and if you ever go to him for help trying to escape your new lover. Then Anakin would harshly chaste you and drag you back to Fives personally. Ashoka would just start listing off reasons why Fives is the best lover for you. And Obi-Wan would hear nothing of it, Fives has gone to so much trouble for you at least try to show some gratitude!

I like to think that clones don't go after each other's lovers and are super respectful to one another. Push comes to shove, some clones just end up sharing a lover. What I wouldn't give to be shared between my favorite clones~💜

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ichijager13 · 3 months

Text

Teach Me How To Be Loved

Chapter XV Who am I to sympathize when no one gave a damn

Pairing : Eren Jäger x reader, past relationships: Reiner Braun x reader, Jean kristein x reader

Characters: Eren Jäger, Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger, Reiner Braun, Jean Kristein, Carla Jäger, Sophie Jäger.

Tags: Unhealthy coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships, childhood trauma, physical and verbal abuse, self-esteem and trust issues, domestic violence, implied/ referenced cheating, and a touch of sweet, lovable, and non fuckboy Eren Jäger

This fic is brought to you by Lana Del Rey’s songs

Masterlist, AO3, Playlists: Reader’s POV, Eren’s POV

A/N: Hey, hey, heeeeeey! Guess who have decided to pick up her fanfic and update it. Yes, this lazy Ichi! I'm really sorry for taking so long to update, I didn't abandon this story, I promise.

Also thank you so much for reading and supporting my works.

Ichi ❤️

Quickly glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you tucked the rebellious locks behind your ear and smoothed your ponytail. It took you a while before you realized you were smiling at the woman staring back at you. Lately, you had been smiling a lot. You were sleeping better, and you felt happier. It was all thanks to him. Thanks to Eren.

With this thought in mind, you opened the door and threw yourself in his arms.

“Easy girl. You startled me.” He giggled, wrapping his arms around you. Nothing eased your soul and mind more than his warm embraces and presence. Whenever he was around, you felt light and carefree. Like the first page of a new sketchbook. “I just went to buy some croissants a couple of blocks away.” His voice was warm and soothing, like the first ray of sun after months of cold winter. “How about we continue this inside?" he asked a few seconds later, playfully poking your nose.

Smiling, you laced your fingers with his and led him inside your apartment.

There was something about this man that made you feel warm and fuzzy. Something you had always tried to name but failed to Was it his emerald green eyes and the way they looked at you as if you were a unique piece of art? The tone of his voice that softened whenever you were around? The bright smile that made his eyes shine and your heart jump in its place? Maybe it was the way his heartbeat synched perfectly with yours whenever you found yourself in his embrace? Or maybe it was all of the above and much, much more.

The feeling of his hand caressing your hair lovingly brought you back to reality.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked, offering you one of those smiles that made you want to hug him and never let go.

“You,” you instantly replied without thinking. Your cheeks turned crimson the second you realized what you had just said. Feeling shy, you buried your face in his chest.

He slowly cupped your chin and made you look at him. A smile curled up the corners of his mouth before his arms dropped to your waist. “I’m happy I’m up there,” he breathed against your lips before leaving a couple of chaste kisses. “Did you eat?” he inquired as he pulled away, and it made your heart melt. You had no idea what you did to deserve someone like him, but you were glad to have him in your life.

“No, was waiting for my handsome man.” A cheeky smile adorned your blushing face, making him chuckle.

“What a lucky man!”

After you two had breakfast, you did the dishes while he went to take a shower. You were about to finish when you heard the soft ding of received notifications.

A few seconds later, you grabbed your phone and checked the notification.

You had no clue how long you had been standing there, staring at your phone in shock. Feeling overwhelmed by your racing thoughts and feelings, you didn’t even notice Eren’s presence until he placed a hand on your shoulder and called your name.

“Are you alright, love?” His voice was filled with genuine concern as his eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, pocketing your phone. “Just one of those war videos popped in.” You managed to pull up a smile before looking at him. “Want me to blow-dry your hair for you, dear?” you asked, hugging him.

Please don’t ask more questions.

“Would love to!”

Relief washed over you as those words came out of him.

After he left, you spent most of the evening staring at the text you received earlier that day. The number wasn’t registered, but you knew it was your sibling’s.

The noises coming from the living room were terrifying. Feeling your sibling’s small body tremble next to you, you moved closer and wrapped both arms around the frail silhouette. Your father had always scared you to death, but there were nights, like this one, when the word fear failed to come close to describing what you were feeling.

Hiding in your closet, you tried to stay as quiet as possible. If only you could stay hidden until he’d pass out on the couch from how much he drank that night. Trying to remember why he was angry this time, your brain kept racing as angry curses and threats reached your ears. You kept repeating that you needed to remain quiet, to not lose your grip and cry, to not utter a sound or a breath. You needed to stay here until the storm passed. You needed to hide your little sibling. To protect them from the monster you referred to as ‘dad’.

Dad, the word rotted in your mouth and felt like poison each time you said it. Deep down inside, you knew that you had a father, not a dad.

‘Dad passed away last night. The funeral will be held this Thursday afternoon.’ Your eyes scanned the two lines over and over again. It felt weird because, for you, your father died the day you left for college over a decade ago.

Sitting on the floor, bearfoot, you continued staring at your screen. Having no idea what you were experiencing, you let your head fall back as your tears silently traveled down your flushed cheeks.

Why are you crying now? The voice inside your head scoffed. He finally got what he deserved.

But you knew you weren’t crying because of that. You weren’t sad because he died or for his loss. How could you be sad for losing what you never had? How could you cry over someone who has hurt you for years? Someone you would never forgive. And even if you wanted to, it was too late. You crossed the point of no return years ago, and there was no going back now. There was nothing to go back for.

Remember all the things he did to you? all the bruises and stitches. All the scars and wounds. The voice kept arguing. Remember how he hurt you? how he damaged you. how he brought you down and broke you to pieces. The voice persisted. It became angrier, slowly becoming scary. He’s worse than Jean.

You knew that, and you weren’t willing to forgive him for that. You never intended to do so.

Then why the fuck are you crying?

You wished you had an answer, but you didn’t. You wished you weren’t this lost. You wished the news left you indifferent.

A couple of hours later, you finally found the resolve to stand up and go finish your work. With a cup of herbal tea in one hand and your phone in the other, you were about to take place by your desk when you received a call.

Frowning, you rejected it, but the number called again. After the fourth attempt, you gave up and took the call.

"Hello, sis, it’s been a while,” the voice greeted. Hearing how much it changed, you realized it had, in fact, been a while. That little, soft voice that asked you a million questions was no longer there. That innocent voice was gone. and that convinced you more of how pointless it was to dwell on the past and try to rebuild burned bridges.

“Hi,” you simply replied.

Discouraged by your cold tone, they took a deep breath before asking, “How are you?”

“Known better days.”

“I can imagine,” they mumbled. "So... are you coming?” they asked after a brief hesitation. “It’s been years, and I... I need your presence. I need you, sis.” Their voice broke, and you could’ve sworn you could hear your heart crack. But they had made their choice years ago when they decided to forgive your father. To choose him over you. To choose the one who mistreated them over the one who looked after them and loved them unconditionally. Each time you remembered that night, your heart fell to pieces and your soul shattered. You and your sibling made an oath. You promised each other to stay together, to help one another, and to start all over again far away from that doomed house.

It’s about time we went back home. Their words echoed infinitely in your head. Forgive and forget, sis. He’s our father, after all. He’s the only family we have left. Their words were mixed with angry voices and loud banging against the door. They were covered by the sound of hectic sobbing and whispered promises. Promises little you made to make out alive, to escape this living hell as soon as possible, to seek freedom and live.

“I’ll wait for. Please, you don’t forget the pro—” Knowing what they were about to say, you hung up before they had the chance to finish their sentence.

“Why, why, why, why!!” you kept repeating as a broken record. “Why do you always insist on doing this to me?" You fell to the ground, crying. “Why now. Why. I’m finally happy. I’m finally having a normal and peaceful life. I’m finally living my life.” Your fist slammed the cold floor beneath you over and over. “Give me a break. Haven’t you had enough?"

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your-dearest-sunshine · 2 years

Text

Emmet's Child Gets Sent to Hisui Alone

it is time for more angst hehehe >:) if you haven’t seen the ingo version of this, it can be found here! sorry this took so long, but this is super long and it’s worth the wait i promise

cw: Mentioned death by illness, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms

wc: ~7.4k

Emmet ▽

Your father was a regular challenger on the double line. He was an experienced trainer who collected all eight gym badges in the Hoenn region as a teenager, but never ended up challenging the Elite Four. So, when he moved to Nimbasa as soon as he was a legal adult, he found himself battling regularly on the Battle Subway.

His skills and knowledgeable team of Pokémon allowed him to battle Emmet almost on the daily. They were incredibly even battlers. The winner depended on luck.

Your father and Emmet became great friends. They would have long conversations after every battle, just talking about whatever came to mind.

Emmet remembers your father coming down the line one day, blabbing about this date he went on with this girl the night prior.

“Emmet, I know you probably won’t believe me, but she’s the one. I just feel it in my gut, man, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with her.”

“I am Emmet, and you are right! I don’t believe you. Now, let us battle!”

Well, Emmet was wrong. That girl your father went on that date with? That was your mother.

Nearly every day, Emmet heard from your father about his relationship with your mother. He was so excited for your father–who seemed to be in the happiest state of his life.

Emmet recalls how giddy your father came into the car one day, around two years after that first date, and said that he had proposed to your mother and that she had said yes.

The Subway Boss didn’t cry at that, he didn’t cry when your father asked that he be a groomsman, but he may have shed a tear or two at the actual wedding…he didn’t tell your father that, however.

Even after marriage, your father would challenge the line. It was part of his routine now and it’s when he saw Emmet, how could he not?

Sometimes your mother would come in and watch the battles, cheering on her husband. Emmet thought she was an incredible woman, perfectly suited for your father. He could not be more happy that his good friend had found someone so lovely.

Well, actually, Emmet was happier when your father announced that your mother was pregnant.

Emmet couldn’t believe it. He was going to be an uncle! Not a biological one, but still an uncle!

Would your father bring you to the station? Would he bring you to battles in a baby bjorn? How long would it take you to start battling yourself? What is going to be your first Pokémon?

Your father said all those questions would be answered eventually, but they would just have to wait and see.

“I mean, Emmet, what if they don’t even like Pokémon?”

“That is a non-issue. I am Emmet, and will make my future nibling loves Pokémon!”

Safe to say that Emmet was very excited to meet you.

Emmet was sad, however, when your father announced that he would be starting paternity leave around a month before you were due and three-to-four months after you were born. How was he to survive without his favorite challenger?

Luckily, the Subway Boss still got calls and updates about how you and your mother were doing.

Every once and awhile, Emmet would stop by and pick up your father’s Pokémon for some training. They loved Emmet as much as your parents did.

And then you were born.

Emmet was sent some pictures of when you were only a few days old.

How could a person be so tiny? How could you be so cute?

But then, around two months later, the calls and messages stopped.

Emmet could only wait so long for a response. He wasn’t a patient man.

His questions were answered after a week of silence when he received a phone call from Castelia City West-Central Hospital.

Sometimes Emmet wishes he was never curious at all, because maybe then he wouldn’t have to come to the agonizing realization of what had happened.

It was Swinub-Flu season, and this year’s strain was particularly strong. Both your mother and father had contracted the illness.

Turns out your father had a condition that caused him to be immunocompromised, and your mother’s immune system was still very weak after having a baby.

They had to be transported to Castelia City due to how fast the flu was deteriorating their bodies, but even the best of medicine couldn’t save your parents. They had died mere hours apart.

And then there was you.

Emmet knows that your mother was estranged from her family, and he knows that your father left his family in Hoenn for a good reason. So, you had nowhere to go.

How is Emmet supposed to stand by and watch the child he thought he would be an uncle to be sent into foster care? How could he watch the child of two of his, now deceased, closest friends be sent away?

And so, instead of becoming an uncle, Emmet became a father.

You’re barely two months old, still just an infant. He doesn’t know what he is getting into, he doesn't know how to take care of a child so young.

It’s hard at first. Emmet is in love with his job. It brought him so much joy and he spends so much time at Gear Station that he doesn’t know how he’s going to give you enough attention.

Luckily enough, Ingo, who is taking his responsibilities as a new uncle very seriously, covers for Emmet while he goes on paternity leave. He is forced to leave his post, but every glance he steals of your small face reminds him he is doing this for you, not for him, and Emmet would never shirk his duties as your father.

At first, Emmet wants to bring you into the station, but Ingo advises him that you are much too young to do that. Even while he’s on leave, Emmet does a lot of paperwork from home. He wants to be helpful in some way, and this is all he could do at the moment.

But you have to know that the second you are old enough, Emmet starts to sling you in a baby bjorn all around the station.

The people of Nimbasa are surprised to see that Emmet suddenly has a child, but Emmet dismisses all the commotion in the name of your privacy. The world isn’t entitled to know the circumstances behind your existence, they don’t have to know the tragedy that brought you into Emmet’s care.

But Emmet learns very quickly how your birth parents’ presence remains in your lives.

Obviously, Emmet grieves. He grieves your birth parents with a sadness he didn’t know was possible. He cares for them both. They were two of his closest friends who had so much love for each other and now they were gone.

You were born into their overwhelming love, and it still walked beside you every moment.

Emmet took in your birth father’s team of Pokémon after his passing. They are incredibly strong, full of years of training and adventures. But now, instead of choosing to continue down the path of battling, their only goal now is to watch over you.

The Pokémon start to linger around you very early on in your life. Emmet doesn’t instruct them to do that. And, frankly, Emmet doesn’t instruct them to do anything. They don’t listen to him like that because he isn’t their trainer. They aren’t his Pokémon.

They are yours.

Breloom is full of gentle kindness, despite her fighting type. Breloom holds your hand when walking to and from school, swinging her tail back and forth in time with your steps. She is like an older sister, keeping you safe and pointing you in the right direction of things. Her no-nonsense outlook towards you means that she got along great with Emmet, but obviously she loves you more than she loves the Subway Boss.

Crawdaunt is a little demon. As a species, Crawdaunt are difficult to raise and train. They are rebellious, violent, and extremely territorial. Your birth father’s Crawdaunt never abides by what Emmet wants, instead acting like a misbehaved Herdier. He doesn’t like anyone other than the fellow Pokémon in the house, no human is good enough for his good-graces. Except you, of course. Crawdaunt is putty in your palms. He yearns for your attention like a whining toddler, begging to be scratched and soothed by you and you alone.

Ninjask is a clingy bug Pokémon. He likes to snag himself on your back like a backpack or simply rest on your head like an oversized hat. Despite his immense speed, Ninjask has a tendency to laze on you or near you. If you ever leave his sight for so long, Ninjask puts his speed to use and darts around to find you. He’s a spoiled mess, crying loudly until you hold him like a swaddled baby. He is also a very jealous Pokémon, refusing to share your attention when he’s in need of it. The steady buzz of his wings and soft hum of his voice indicate how happy he is to be in your presence.

And finally Dusclops, your birth father’s partner, is your guardian. It is an eerily silent companion, stalking around the world beside you like a warden. Dusclops is a very kind Pokémon, helping those near you who need it, but Dusclops is always yours first and foremost. It never wavers in its task of watching over you, never needing to sleep, never needing to eat, never needing to leave. Your Dusclops is the shadow in every room, the passing flash on every street corner, the dreary echo in the night. Dusclops will watch over you until its spirit drifts from its hollow body. It already lost your parents, it will not lose you.

It is nearly impossible to live in an apartment with Emmet, his Pokémon, Ingo, his Pokémon, you, and all of your birth father’s Pokémon, so Emmet moves into a tall townhouse in a good neighborhood in the center of the city to have more room for you and your team to grow up.

Ingo doesn’t move out of the apartment, and Emmet’s new home is only a short walk away. Emmet isn’t completely separated from his brother, which is a terrifying concept to him, but he now has enough space for you–the newest and most important addition to his life.

Once you are old enough, it’s hard for Emmet to think about tackling the issue of you being adopted. Emmet honestly wants Ingo to tell you, but Ingo smacks Emmet on the back of the head and tells him to suck it up. Emmet is your dad, not Ingo, and it’s his prerogative to have the conversation.

“Little Buddy, we need to talk.”

At the call of your father, you pause mid-swing. You rock Ninjask in your arms, the Pokémon buzzing softly after noticing that you halt your movements.

Emmet’s smile turns into a straight line, an unexpected seriousness splays across his features.

Full of worry, you listen carefully with wide eyes. Those words never mean anything good.

“I’m sorry I did not tell you this before. I truly regret it. I am not your real father.”

You laugh in his face and go back to swinging Ninjask in circles. Emmet blinks heavily at your response.

“What’re you talking about, Papa? Of course you’re my real father!”

Emmet sighs wistfully, not knowing where to take the conversation from here.

“I did not create you. You are not biologically my own. You are adopted.”

Never one to dance around the subject, Emmet rips the bandaid off with the grace of a Tauros in a porcelain shop.

“Well yeah, obviously. I knew that a long time ago.”

How could you know? Nobody’s had this conversation with you, and Emmet never gave any hints to you about your true genetic heritage.

“How did you know? When did you learn? Ingo did not tell you, did he?”

You shake your head. Okay, you must’ve figured it out on your own then, right?

You don’t look like him or Ingo, you look like your dad, you look like you. You are fundamentally different from Emmet in the way children usually aren’t from their biological parents.

“I’ve known since pretty much forever. Dusclops told me a while ago.”

Ninjask tries to reach up his little claws and wipe his teary eyes. With the conversation now on the topic of his original trainer, the bug type Pokémon flies off to hide—gone in the blink of an eye.

You don’t elaborate on your statement, and Emmet is too surprised to ask, but it’s true that Dusclops has conversations with you.

It talks to you a lot about the past. It tells you stories about your birth parents, stories about its travels across Hoenn with your birth father, stories about meeting the other Pokémon and becoming family with them, stories about your birth father moving to Unova and meeting your birth mother, stories about how they treated you and how much they loved you, stories about their passing and how much it destroyed the other Pokémon emotionally, and stories about how amazing Emmet is and how happy the Pokémon are to have him come into your life.

Emmet is your father, and you are his kid. Through and through.

“But I don’t know why that means you’re not my dad. You’re very much my real dad, Papa.”

Emmet ignores the tears in his eyes as he scoops you up in his arms and squeezes you with a strength he didn’t know he had.

His smile beams throughout your home, salty water pouring down his cheeks.

“Yes! Yes, you are right! I’m sorry! I’ve always been your real dad, even if I didn’t make you. Yes yes! I am Emmet and I am your Papa and you are my child!”

So, if you are truly his child, then why couldn’t he expect this to happen?

If he was truly your father, why couldn’t he tell something was wrong faster?

Emmet chases you through the house with a dusty mop, laughing loudly. In your attempt to escape his attack, you sprint out the front door and down the steps.

Your giggles echo through the downpour of the rain outside. Emmet runs onto the porch, soles stopped on the welcome mat to avoid getting wet.

A shadow that isn’t yours follows your steps along the concrete.

Emmet’s eyes watch you take off down the sidewalk, spinning water droplets off your back. It's a little dark outside, the street lights are on but it isn't late at night yet, but he can still see you a bit before the canopy of water hides you completely.

Your father calls out your name, staying under the awning to avoid getting wet (Ingo would be mad if his brother ruined another pair of socks). The mop dangles from Emmet’s hands, chest heaving from the exercise of having chased you.

The rain is loud, and the sky seems to open up wider to pour down a stronger storm.

A minute or so passes before Emmet realizes he can no longer hear your familiar laugh through the rain.

His arms sag down while his smile wavers. He feels puzzled, looking out to the abandoned streets of Nimbasa.

Suddenly, Emmet has an incredibly strong stomach ache. It feels like getting punched in the gut while paralyzed, unable to prepare for the hit.

His voice feels unsure in his throat.

“Hey! This is verrrry unfunny, kiddo! We still have cleaning to do!”

Emmet calls out again when you don't respond. He’s overwhelmed by an emotion he can’t name. He doesn’t know why he feels this way.

You should be right there. Why aren’t you saying anything?

This time, all he says is your name.

You don’t reply.

Emmet takes a deep, shuddering breath. His lungs ache like he is drowning in the rain, full of suffering and fear.

This time, when Emmet speaks, it comes out softer than a whisper. It is barely a breath off his lips.

“...Dusclops?”

And the ghost type responds with a bellowing, agonizing, haunting sob that reverberates through the storm.

Goosebumps rise on Emmet's skin at the noise, and your father drops the mop and sprints down the street.

When he finds Dusclops, Emmet observes the Pokémon’s catatonic state. The rain shimmers an inch or two off of Dusclops’ bandages, as if an invisible cloak of the afterlife coats the ghost type’s surface.

You are still nowhere to be seen.

Dusclops stands unnervingly still, its sole red eye staring into someplace far away from these rain-soaked streets of Nimbasa.

From the way it’s acting, Emmet doesn’t need to say a word to figure out what happened.

If Dusclops doesn’t know where you were, nobody would.

You're gone.

The preliminary investigation is unsuccessful; so is every subsequent investigation after that.

The Nimbasa Police sweep the area far more times than is necessary. Nearly 24 hours later, as Emmet watches detectives investigate the home, Ingo comes bursting in through the front door.

Ingo is frantic. His voice booms across the living room as he rushes over to his younger brother. Ingo came the second he could, but he had to wait until the station slowed down after rush-hour to come see his brother.

Emmet was no-call-no-show at the station this morning and hadn’t answered a single call or text. Ingo tried to call you as backup, but your phone came up with “caller does not exist” and the texts immediately went to “undelivered.” Full of worry, Ingo ran towards the townhouse as fast as he could.

Can you imagine what he felt when he saw the countless police cars outside?

“Emmet! Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Why are the police—”

Ingo’s hands shoot out and grip Emmet’s shoulders tightly, his voice loud and bleeding with concern.

“Do not worry, brother! They just went out for a bit. They will be back later.”

“What are you talking about? Who went out? Why are there so many police officers? Who’s coming back?”

Before Ingo can ask another question, he looks and takes in his younger twin’s condition.

Emmet’s eyes are bloodshot and his mouth wobbles in a phony smile. His legs shake where he stood, exhaustion creeping up on him. Dark circles dance under his eyes as his fingers grab at Ingo’s black coat like a lifeline.

Your father answers your uncle’s questions with nothing but the simple statement of your name. Ingo, bewildered, still doesn’t yet understand.

“...are they not here…?”

Emmet suddenly collapses, knees unlocking and grasp sealing on his twin in front of him. Ingo catches Emmet and forces his younger brother’s head into the crook of his neck to hold him.

Ingo silently cries hearing Emmet’s raucous sobs, unable to hold it together seeing his own brother fall apart in his arms. He’s never seen Emmet this distraught.

Things don’t improve from there.

There is no progress on the investigation. Despite the pleads of your father and uncle, there’s nothing anyone can do. The police try all that they can, but it just doesn’t feel like enough.

The brothers enlist Elesa and other friends of theirs to help spread the word and images of you; but, it's no surprise that nothing comes from that either.

Your father then hires a private investigator or four. They’re good, sharp-witted, and renowned in their field.

None of them find anything. You vanished into thin air, it seems. Despite all of their years of work and experience, your missing persons case is an anomaly.

After a few weeks of no progress, Emmet seems to just…return to normal.

Emmet goes back to the subway like clockwork, helping around the station and following his tasks without wavering. He wears his usual smile all the same, not a bump nor waver in his lips.

Those of Nimbasa who know or care about your disappearance are incredibly perplexed by Emmet’s behavior. After throwing everything that he is into the search for you, Emmet seemingly moves on.

It’s almost unsettling how Emmet acts as if nothing is wrong.

“They just needed some time away. Everyone does. They’re coming back eventually. Am I worried? I am Emmet. I am not worried. They are fine.”

His visage gives no hints towards continuous long nights, no signs of puffy eyes from crying, no remnants of exhaustion or sadness. There’s no clues that point to these things happening because they’re not.

The lack of emotional instability is concerning, but the actions Emmet takes are even more so.

He removes the pictures of you from the wall in his office and hides the trinkets you’ve given him from his desk. His lockscreen becomes a picture of him and Ingo rather than the three of you. Your Pokémon aren’t seen by his side at the station anymore, and Emmet stops talking about you.

It’s as if Emmet is trying to scrub your existence from his life, like he’s trying to detangle your being from his.

When other people bring you up, Emmet simply acts semi-aloof. He pretends to not pick up on the subtle cues they throw, trying to get him to speak about you and the situation.

Anyone who has any sort of perception or basic understanding of trauma responses knows that this is Emmet’s way of coping.

Four of the stages of grief—anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are all preceded by denial.

In an odd twist of fate, alongside denying the incident that took you away from him, your father denies your life as a whole.

Ingo, understandably, is enraged at his younger twin for the way he acts.

“How dare you, Emmet.”

“I am Emmet, and you are Ingo. I do not know why you are so mad at me.”

“Just look at what you’re doing!”

Ingo gestures to the box of things Emmet is in the middle of packing. He’s taking out some of the things you left in their shared office.

Books you read, half annotated and covered in sticky notes, are buried under hoodies you forgot and topped by a pair of earbuds you used. There’s a loose art class sculpture in there as well, stuck beside a reusable water bottle covered in stickers.

“I do not see a problem in this.”

Ingo’s face flushes red, hands twisted into trembling fists at his sides.

“How could you do this to your own child?!”

At that, Emmet stands up straight and tall, as if his spine is replaced by a metal rod. With the feeling of all his muscles going taught, Emmet faces his older brother.

“Ingo–”

“You’re abandoning them, Emmet! How dare you abandon someone you said you loved so much!”

Emmet simply shakes his head.

“Brother, you are wrong. I love them. I haven’t stopped. I will love them until they come back.”

As soon as Emmet finishes his sentence, Ingo lunges forth and grips Emmet by the lapels of his white jacket.

“They aren’t here for you to love, Emmet! They’re gone! Missing! And here you are trying to erase everything that they left behind!”

Ingo is screaming, voice bellowing out from the depths of his lungs.

“They’re just away–”

Ingo yells in frustration, gripping Emmet tighter and gritting his teeth.

“Why don’t you get it, Emmet?! They’re not here! And now it seems like you’re trying to get rid of the rest of them too. How can you do this? How can you abandon the memory of your child? What kind of father are you–”

Emmet’s hands lock onto Ingo’s wrists like iron, throwing his brother off with all of his strength. The older twin is sent tumbling back, but remains on his feet.

Both of the Subway Bosses are heaving for air, staring at each other with a foreign animosity.

A beat or two passes, and neither brother makes a move to apologize or reconcile.

The silence is suffocating.

“I…I am—I am-!”

Emmet can’t finish his sentence before landing harshly on his knees, head in his palms as his forehead presses to the linoleum tile.

He screams in frustration, voice tearing with the emotion filling his soul.

Grief is a monster. It is love with no vessel to pour into.

It consumes him, filling his chest like water, like rain. Emmet is drowning in his love for you, but it has nowhere to go. It chokes him.

You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here.

Despite the concerns from his brother, Emmet doesn’t change.

Emmet finds it easier to not acknowledge your disappearance at all. It’s easier to not keep track of the days, weeks, months you’ve been missing and instead live life by the minute.

Then, he can pretend like he hasn’t read every fact that tells him that you’re statistically dead.

If he doesn’t have to think about you, doesn’t have to accept the fact you’re going to be gone forever, then he can still hold onto that dim flicker of hope buried deep in his heart.

A year passes, and despite his efforts, Emmet still can’t break the habits and routines that he embedded in himself as a father.

Every Saturday he still makes pancakes with that fruity cereal you and your team loved. Though, this time, he makes servings for one less than normal.

Sometimes on his afternoon break, when he’s disassociating more than usual, Emmet wanders out of the station and along the path he took to get to your school. You’re never there, never walking besides the other hundreds of children when they’re let out for the day.

On the 15th of every month, Emmet still walks into your room and replaces the air freshener he had set up next to your nightstand.

There’s a lot of things that have changed since you’ve been gone.

Your Pokémon don’t interact with Emmet very much anymore.

And, in all honesty, Emmet doesn’t really mind. All he can think about when he looks at them is you, and he rather not think about that.

Ninjask screeches at Emmet any time he enters a room. The bug type refuses to be in your father’s presence. He skitters outside more often than not, escaping through an open window and not returning for days at a time. Emmet wonders if the Pokémon is looking for you. Sometimes Emmet can hear Ninjask solemnly singing in the night. The haunting tune keeps him up for hours on end.

Breloom practically lives in the backyard. She cultivates the small strip of land Emmet owns behind the townhouse. What was once a barren flat section of green is now a wild garden, overflowing with plants, mushrooms, and your favorite flowers. Breloom’s happy disposition is now replaced by seriousness and sadness. Every once and awhile, the Pokémon approaches someone on Emmet’s team for a hug. Usually Eelektross is the one who provides comfort. Breloom never asks Emmet for anything. Emmet doesn’t know if he has it within himself to give the Pokémon the happiness it deserves.

Crawdaunt all but monopolizes your room from Emmet. As a species, Crawdaunt are extremely territorial. The water Pokémon refuses to allow anyone into your space except the other Pokémon that were in your care. He snaps his claws if Emmet so much as touches the doorknob. The only exception is the 15th of every month; but, even then, the Pokémon doesn’t let your father linger. Emmet never wants to, anyway.

Dusclops confines itself to the four walls of your bedroom. The ghost Pokémon never leaves, never wavers, never moves. It tries to linger in the place overflowing with your influence, as if trying to grasp onto the last remaining wisps of you. Emmet swears he can feel Dusclops watching him from the shadows around the house, but the Pokémon has made it quite clear that it does not care about Emmet’s condition in the slightest. At this point in its long, incessant, never-ending life, Dusclops feels nothing. It lost you. What’s the point of continuing this second life if you’re not here?

Despite all that Emmet does to ignore you, he can’t seem to move from the townhouse. He’s done so much to try and keep your memory from tormenting him, but he thinks moving homes would sever the tie from him to you forever.

Emmet’s mental state doesn’t improve from the constant denial of your absence.

Sure, in the first few months, not thinking about you allowed him to suppress the initial pain. It was his body’s immediate defense mechanism to protect itself from harm.

But, after a long time, the denial doesn’t work anymore.

A year and a half later, the sanity in Emmet's continued denial starts to slip. While the public’s forgotten about you, they catch on to the decay of your father’s wellbeing.

Emmet throws himself into work like never before.

His overtime hours pile up, flying through the roof. Despite earning salary pay, he gets awarded a bonus he didn’t know existed for his extra work.

He works through breaks, battles more trainers, directs more passengers, comes in early, stays in late, picks up extra paperwork, and pulls the slack left behind by some depot workers. Emmet does everything and more.

Ingo knows what’s happening to Emmet more than anyone else.

He can see his younger brother’s pallid skin and sunken cheeks, eyes catching on the looser fit of his clothes. Ingo watches from across his desk as his brother’s head sways and how his eyelids droop.

Ingo can see that Emmet isn’t sleeping right, that Emmet isn’t eating right. Ingo knows that Emmet is overworking himself.

The more time he spends thinking about work, the less time Emmet spends thinking about you. The less he sleeps, the fewer nightmares he has. The less he eats, the less he imagines you sitting across from him eating the same thing.

Ingo knows Emmet is a stubborn man. No amount of petty arguments will change Emmet’s views.

But, when Emmet’s legs give in and he nearly passes out onto the tracks mid-shift, Ingo knows enough is enough.

A week or so after passing out, Emmet goes to work like any other. But, even in a diminished mental state, Emmet can tell something’s going on.

Depot agents that usually didn’t approach him greet him as he walks by. Some of them go out of their way to give him a smile and wave before going back to work diligently.

Despite their kindness, Emmet feels odd about it.

He eventually reaches his and Ingo’s private office. It’s in one of the best locations in the subway. Here it’s quiet, secluded, and safe.

Opening the door, Emmet makes eye contact with both Elesa and Ingo. While he doesn’t expect Ingo to be smiling, Elesa’s lack of a grin rubs Emmet the wrong way.

“I am Emmet, and you are Elesa. What are you doing here? I am surprised you are not busy.”

Emmet’s question sounds happy. He has a grin on his face seeing that one of his good friends has made time for a surprise visit, but they’re not smiling back at him.

“I just really wanted to talk with you, Emmet. Can you shut the office door and come sit down over here?”

From that, Emmet goes on edge.

He obliges, but it’s obvious to see that Emmet is tense. He moves to sit in front of his brother and Elesa, but he moves far too stiffly to be feeling comfortable.

Emmet takes a seat in his desk chair that’s been pushed back from his actual desk. Ingo and Elesa are leaning against it, not sitting and staring downwards at Emmet.

Ingo clears his throat, but can’t seem to speak. He glances at Elesa for help. She nods and speaks plainly.

“We need to talk about them, Emmet.”

The air seemingly fills with static, your father’s hair standing on end. He can feel his heart jumpstart and speed up.

“Who are you talking about? Who’s them?”

Ingo feels like Emmet knows the answer already, but responds with your name anyway.

Emmet doesn’t react at all. Not shifting, not moving, not speaking, just…nothing.

“We’re really, really concerned about the way you’re processing their…absence.”

Elesa speaks gently, dancing around the subject. This conversation is uncomfortable for both sides, but it is necessary.

“You’re unhealthy, Emmet. You aren’t taking care of yourself and your body is reaping the consequences of your lack of self-care.”

“I am Emmet and I am fine.”

Emmet’s voice is tight and sharp. He doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt if you keep acting like this. You haven’t truly grieved them, Emmet, and look what that’s doing to you.”

“Who am I supposed to grieve? Nobody I know is dead.”

Elesa’s face twists into something mournful, a few rogue tears prickling in her eyes.

“Emmet…you can’t keep doing this…”

Ingo’s voice cuts in where Elesa fails.

“It’s been two years. Acting this way does no good for anyone, and you know they would be incredibly unhappy if they knew you were acting this way.”

Emmet forcefully shoves himself up and out of the chair, brows furrowed and fists shaking at his sides.

“You are both being verrrrry mean right now.”

“It’s because we care, Emmet! We care about you so much and we want to see you happy again.”

Elesa moves to grab Emmet’s sleeve, but he yanks his arm away from her grasp before she can touch him.

“I am leaving now.”

As Emmet turns to the door, he sees Ingo’s Haxorus standing there blocking the exit.

The Pokémon is physically imposing, but it looks down at Emmet with overwhelming sadness, shaking its head as Emmet attempts to maneuver around it.

“You can’t keep running away from this, Emmet. You can’t keep denying what happened.”

“Be quiet, Ingo!”

Ingo’s taking a more direct approach while Elesa treads the unstable waters carefully. She doesn’t want to upset Emmet even more, but Ingo is desperate for his brother to get better to the point he will say whatever Emmet needs to hear, even if he doesn’t want to hear it.

“We’re just trying to help you. We all wish they were here right now, you’re not alone in that.”

“I don’t need your help! There is nothing wrong with me!”

Elesa takes a step back, rubbing her teary eyes. She misses you greatly, and watching one of her closest friends self-destruct hurts her even more.

“We all miss them, Emmet, it’s okay.”

Emmet scrubs at his eyes, voice growing rocky and legs feeling unsteady.

He pulls down his hands and looks straight at his brother and friend, smiling pulling unnaturally wide in an attempt to feign indifference.

“There is nobody for me to miss, Elesa—”

“They’re gone, Emmet! They’re gone and they’re not coming back!

Emmet gasps at Ingo’s words as if his brother had punched him in the gut.

He can feel it, the rain filling his lungs and the world closing around him.

“Don’t say that! They will! I know they will!”

Seeing Emmet acknowledge you, Elesa steps forward with Ingo.

“They’re gone, Emmet.”

She repeats Ingo’s words in a calmer voice, but Emmet seems to become all the more erratic.

“No…no t-they can’t be…they can’t…”

Emmet’s heaving for air, fist gripping the clothes right above his heart with all of his strength. He’s now staring at the floor, not being able to look Ingo or Elesa in the eyes.

“Emmet–”

“STOP IT! STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”

Emmet bursts into sobs, and Ingo is close enough to lunge forward and catch his younger brother before he hits the floor.

Ingo and Emmet curl into each other’s hold on the ground of their office, Emmet’s emotions leaving him unable to stand.

Elesa joins them, wrapping her arms around both of the brothers and slowly rubbing her hands up and down their backs to calm them.

This time, Ingo doesn’t cry. This isn’t about him. It’s about Emmet. It’s about you.

Eventually, Emmet’s cries turn into whispers, then whimpers, and then into nothing.

He feels the comfort of Ingo’s hand rubbing over his head, keeping him safely held against his older brother’s shoulder.

The silence is broken by Emmet’s shuddering inhale.

“I am Emmet and my child is dead.”

And so, after two years without you, Emmet finally starts the grieving process.

The years of denying your absence had torn him apart. Multiple of Emmet’s relationships soured and he didn’t care. But now, he was in a better place to try and fix them.

Slowly, but surely, Emmet starts to follow the stages of grief with his friends and family at his side.

After denial comes anger.

Emmet’s angry at himself. He’s angry that he wasn’t able to stop you from disappearing dying, he’s angry he wasn’t able to find you, and he’s angry that he tried to remove your memory from his.

But most of all, he’s angry that something took you away from him.

Emmet doesn’t understand why he hasn’t realized this sooner, how he didn’t hyperfixate on this fact earlier.

Something or someone had stolen you from his life, ripped you out of his grasp to take for themselves. How dare they.

Emmet is irate. His rage fuels him like coal in an engine, heart and mind barreling down the tracks to a destination unknown. What’s at the end of it? Closure? Revenge? You?

There are never enough answers.

However angry Emmet becomes, Ingo and Elesa are there to pull him away from an all-consuming frenzy. They calm him down, help him process his emotions, help him understand that this anger is helpful to no one.

Two and a half years after you went missing died, Emmet finds himself in the bargaining stage of grief.

This is when Emmet notices that he has so much left to do, so much left to learn.

He’s trying to get his act straight, as if that would somehow make up for all the time he spent being awful after your disappearance death.

Regret is something he feels on the daily now. The shame and anxiety of it all leaves your father struggling to get out of bed some days, but he rises all the same.

And suddenly, while simultaneously begging to Arceus to acknowledge your life, Emmet becomes stronger.

He uses the negative emotions as fuel, feeling the bad and turning it into something positive.

Emmet is alert, on top of his game, on top of his life after what’s been a long, long, two and half years.

In a refreshed state of mind, Emmet is quick to realize that something is off about the storm going on outside.

It’s more than simple thunder and lighting, it’s spiraling, all-consuming, and alive.

Standing inside the station above ground, even through the torrential rain, Emmet can hear something in the atmosphere rip and tear in two.

The clouds turn from their murky grays and become something violet, indigo, and aegean.

Citizens of Nimbasa flood past the doors of Gear Station like the tide, drenched, screaming, and scared. Emmet stands in the middle of it all, the coastline withstanding the waves.

“Something came out of the sky!”

“It’s coming for us!”

“This is Arceus punishing us for all our sins!”

In the midst of everything, a middle-aged woman grips Emmet by his arm.

He can feel her shaking through his coat, quivering in fear. Her hair is soaked and sticking to her face.

“Subway Boss Emmet! Please, you have to protect us, you’re one of the strongest trainers in Nimbasa and this thing, whatever it is, is going to hurt us! I’ve heard about the beasts in Alola, please don’t let this be the same!”

The lady runs off before Emmet can reply.

From the outside streets, people come rushing past Emmet and flee into the tunnels underground and away from the downpour.

Suddenly, Emmet is the only one in Gear Station.

Like a statue or a talisman of strength and protection, Emmet stands tall with his partner’s Pokéball in hand. Eelektross’ capsule almost hums with energy in his palm.

The tearing noise of the odd distortion stirs again, and then all the misplaced color is gone from the sky and the sound is no more. However, the weather still rages.

A figure walks forward through the open doors of Gear Station.

“Hello there, passenger! Everyone entering must follow the safety checks. You are scaring the other passengers. Everyone must feel safe before the train can depart!”

And there it is, the thing the people said came from the sky. It walks with heavy, strong strides, a silhouette shrouded in mystery.

By now, Emmet can tell that it's the shape of a person.

The lightning outside strikes fervently, without remorse, as if trying to light the city on fire. Thunder booms across the open and empty lobby, blending in with Emmet’s voice.

Then, the mask of darkness is finally lifted.

Drenched in rain, backlit by the storm, you walk into the mouth of Gear Station two and a half years later.

Your clothing clings to your skin. It looks as if it was made for you, the garbs of blue and white. A sole red scarf dangles from your neck, torn and battered by a land that is far away in distance and time from here.

From rain you left and in rain you did return.

Eelektross’ ball hits the tile because Emmet is already running straight for you, body unfaltering and determined.

Emmet’s voice is stolen from his throat. He tries to call your name, tries to say anything, but it all comes out in a pathetic croak. After all this time, what is there to say?

Had his praises to Arceus been heard? Had the creator of all things decided that he had suffered enough? Whatever the reason is, Emmet would kneel and express his thanks for centuries.

If you recognize him, you shake the doubtful thoughts from your head, dislodging a few tears in the process, and start running.

“Papa…!”

When you finally collide, centuries of distance are forgotten in an instant. All that remains is longing, runion, and love.

Emmet all but tackles you to the ground, grasping you in his arms and holding you so very tightly. It’s as if he’s trying to absorb your very being into his, trying to make up for all the lost time and filling the nothingness that you left.

You allow yourself to be held, wrapping your arms around your father just as fervently. You can’t imagine ever wanting to let go again, ever wanting to remain out of his sight.

He pushes his face into your hair and weeps. Emmet never thought he’d hear your voice again, never thought he'd see you again, never thought he’d hold you again.

You’re alive, and that is more than Emmet ever thought could be possible.

“I am Emmet and I am your Papa and I have missed you!”

If you don’t recognize him, you steal yourself and take a deep breath, staring ahead as Emmet runs towards you.

Just like Beni taught you, you use Emmet’s momentum against him, twisting his grasp off of you and throwing him to the ground.

Emmet rolls across the tile roughly, breath getting knocked out of his lungs in the process. He scrambles to get up, but you’re already backing away from him.

“I wouldn’t think about trying that again, stranger.”

You threaten him, voice cold and impersonal. There is nothing warm about you, nothing happy, nothing loving.

Emmet watches as you slowly shuffle away, and at the sight, he can’t even bring his legs to stand.

Your eyes are soulless and your words like poison. You stare at him like an abused Pokémon trapped in a corner, not a trusting nor forgiving ounce left in your body.

Emmet scrambles in your direction, hand reaching out desperately to any part of you that might still remember him.

“What? I don’t understand! I am Emmet and I am not a stranger—wait…! No! Please don’t leave me again!”

ty for 100+ follower btw!! not deserved but whatevs i'll take what i can get hehe reposts, likes, and comments all appreciated, i rlly do love hearing all of your guys' thoughts!!

#pokemon x reader #pokémon #dad emmet #ingo #x reader #submas #pokemon imagines #subway boss emmet #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #angst #dad ingo #uncle ingo #pla #legends arceus #pokemon legends arceus #emmet #emmet x reader

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copiousloverofcopia · 1 year

Text

I am honored to be able to share with you a commission that I did for the incredibly talented and wonderful @the-cardinale .

I'm still very much in shock that she wanted me to write for her, considering that she's literally to me one of the quintessential writers of this entire fandom.

Beth I love you so much and I have the deepest respect for you. I am so happy that you liked this piece.

I hope everyone else enjoys as well.

Without further ado

Beauty in Chaos ❤️‍🔥

Also featured here on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

Commissions are still open! Please see pinned post for carrd information!

The Papal suite had finally grown quiet. The mountains of toys and piled up dishes spread out across the parlor, and the faint sound of a children's show could be heard playing from the TV. You sat back against the couch, pulling off your glasses and letting out a sigh. Your eyes, aching from being overworked and your head, unfortunately, was following suit.

You massaged away at your temples. Simple, small strokes as you attempted to chip away at the tension. The aches and pains, a familiar yet uninvited guest in recent days. You had realized more and more, just how much work it was to be Prime Mover and wife to the first Emeritus son.

Your headspace was an amalgamation of the to do's and worry. Every waking moment felt like a never-ending pile up of responsibility and stress. You weren't depressed, as a matter of fact you were happier than you had ever been. It was more that this kind of happiness came with a cost—a cross to bear.

Sometimes the monotonous tasking, and endless chasing after your willful little one, made you tired in more ways than imaginable. At the end of the day you were always left feeling stripped bare, and tonight was like any other. As the night had arrived, the light from the sun slowly retreated from the courtyard and you had finally managed to get your child down to sleep. A welcome reprieve, one that had always come few and far between. His waking and sleep cycles, disrupted by the budding of teeth. Ones that insisted on triumphantly making themselves known.

You closed your eyes, releasing another breath, when you felt a comforting warmth on your shoulders. A familiar grip you instantly melted in, as you leaned back on your neck and looked up into your Papa’s mismatched eyes. “I see he has finally tuckered himself out.” Primo smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“For the moment it seems.” you sighed, knowing that you’d be lucky to get an hour of down time. You loved your son so much, but the toddler years had proven themselves to be a beast. One that, the likes of which, even Hell itself couldn’t conjure. “Maybe I will finally get a moment to finally finish up the papers Sister Imperator had sent for me before he wakes–” you remarked, sniffling back before Primo interjected.

“Nonsense.” Primo hissed, “You will do no such thing. Tell me what troubles you? I feel the weight of your soul is heavy my blossom.”

“I have a bad headache and I haven’t been sleeping well, if at all…I–I am overwhelmed.” You blurted out, a bit ashamed for having admitted it. The tears, now slipping from the rims of your eyes. Primo pulled you around to face him. Holding you tightly in his embrace as you began to weep.

“There is no shame in feeling this way.” he promised you, his heart beating in your ear. His fingers, running through your hair, comforting you and soothing the headache that plagued you. You only wished your emotions could be more easily cured.

“Thank you…and I know, I just…I want to be able to help. To do everything that's asked of me. To take care of our child. To help the siblings and the Ministry as is my duty. Help you—but lately it all feels like it's crushing me under the weight of it. I love our life Primo, and I wouldn’t give it up for the world, but I just feel like I'm having a hard time wading through it all.” you cried, burying your face in his chest.

“Oh amore, listen to me. We are going to find something to help you unwind.” he insisted. You brought your head up to face him. Tears leaving a trail of waterproof mascara, which clearly had failed at its job. You wiped the wetness from your cheeks, gathering yourself together once more before continuing to speak.

“Primo I can’t, there is so much to do. I will never be able to get it all done if I don’t keep on it. I need to at least work on the papers tonight. Oh! And I just remembered I promised some of the sisters that I would help with new sibling orientation this week and I…”

“Sí, I understand…but do you hear yourself? You are going to work yourself so hard that there is nothing left to give, then what good are you to anyone that you wish to help? Allow me to help you relax, my petal." He said, pausing a moment before continuing on. "Would you grant this old withered soul an audience in your company? Just the two of us?”

“Oh my love, I want to…believe me I WANT to. I have missed you so much this past week...I just don't know. I miss our alone time.” you admitted, a reflexive smirk gracing your face as you recalled the many times this man had you climbing the heights of passion. The countless orgasms that had sent you to realms far beyond your own while under his lascivious spell.

“Then it's settled. I have already sent for Aether to come watch the piccolo for the evening. He'll take good care of him, while I help you remember the beautiful goddess that you are. One deserving a break.” Primo chuckled.

“Are you sure about that? Not concerned we may come back to find them both gnawing on furniture or the suite covered in drool?” you laughed.

“Not in the least. The ghoul can handle himself.” Primo insisted, trying his best to convince you, and himself he believed it. He was quick to convince you, always so effortless in his ways. So sweet and calming, like a mug of warm chamomile tea. His voice, able to unwind the stress of the day and his smile sending your heart aflutter in your chest. It still amazed you how he managed it.

How Primo could make those first butterflies you felt in the beginning, keep up their flight. The love felt between you both–so deep and passionate. Truly, had you not known otherwise, you would have thought it was black magic. Your husband had spoken, and always seemed to have your best interest at heart. Once Aeth had arrived, you gently kissed the red headed mop, you adored more than life itself, before the two of you bounded out to your favorite spot in the greenhouse.

You made your way down the path, laden with the gray-green foliage and beautiful pink flowers of the creeping thyme that surrounded the stepping stones. Hand in hand, you carefully traversed the grounds until you came upon the sanctuary of your destination. The stars in the sky, beginning to peek out from the clouds above as you walked inside. You entered first, feeling the intense warmth and the smell of the herbs, and Primo’s freshly potted geraniums, filling your senses.

Only a moment passed before you heard the telltale latch of the door from behind you and the small click of the lock. The smell and sounds, sending a smile to your lips and hellfire through your veins. The heat, settling in your belly as the anticipation built up for what was to come.

You headed for the table in the far back, which sat beside a pair of chairs just outside the door to Primo’s storage closet. As you passed through the rows and rows of plants, all carefully tended to by Papa and the siblings, you remembered when you were once just another of the flock. Helping to manage the garden, when you first laid your eyes on Primo. Singing gently to his plants, as he helped encourage them to grow. Many found the practice foolish, often snickering or having a chuckle at your Papa’s expense. You, however, found it endearing. Your heart, opening to him from that moment forward.

When you reached the table, you gathered up the discarded empty seed packets and muddy gardening gloves. Setting them off to the side, as you cleared a space for yourself. “You know I have asked them so many times to clean up after themselves you’d swear they were all still children.” Primo groaned, watching you clear things off.

“I am sure they meant no harm Papa.” you said, stepping out of your panties, bundling them up and tossing them to the side. Your breathing, already heavy. The heat of your core rising as his gaze fell upon you. Your skin, responding as if he was somehow able to touch you with only a look.

“You are breathtaking, you know this?” Primo asked you, “Inside and out."

“Is that so?” You said as you hopped up on the table, knocking off a terracotta pot onto the floor. “Oh shit.” You exclaimed, staring a only a moment at the mess, your eyes immediately returning to Primo for his response. Normally your husband would be remiss not to pick it up, but tonight there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“I am very sure.” he assured you as he approached, discarding the chasuble and trying hard to undo the buttons of his shirt. He fumbled around with them, his hands struggling to free each button despite his eagerness.

“Here, allow me.” You smiled, Primo’s brow cocked, welcoming your help as his hands rested upon the tops of your thighs. His thumbs rubbing against you.

“What did this old man ever do to deserve you?” he asked, gathering up your dress in his fists before his mouth descended on your neck. Kissing along your pulse points. Leaving blush colored marks in his wake.

“Just being you Papa. That’s all.” you moaned as you helped finish off the last of the buttons. His bare chest peeked out from behind the fabric. You couldn’t resist running your fingers through his chest hair, nails gently scraping the skin as he let out a moan.

“Sacrificherei la mia anima a qualsiasi cosa Dio possa averla, per trascorrere l'eternità dentro di te.” Primo purred against your skin. “Let me see you as Lucifer intended.” he begged, his own breathing hastened as you felt the swell of his cock press against your thigh.

You pulled your dress over your head, now naked before him. He helped to guide you backward, laying you down on the bare spot you cleared while minding the rest of the potted plants. He ran his hand up your thighs, brushing deviously light over where you desperately needed his touch. Climbing over your stomach, before resting his hand gently over your breast.

He kneaded it gently, enjoying the feel of you filling his hand. His fingers tugged gently at the peak of your nipple. Rolling his thumb over it to tease. You could feel his cock against you, his own need for you growing. Your blood, pumping faster and faster within your veins. You swallowed back the knot in your throat as you waited—aching to be touched.

“Oh Primo, please.” you begged, needy and ready. You felt his fingers enter you. The slow glide of them inside, making you bite down on your lip to hold back a moan. You couldn’t be that easy on him, letting him know that even just the simplest of his touches set you on fire. Though you were sure deep down he already knew. “That feels so good.” you cooed, giving into your sensations as he curved up his fingers into the delicate bundle of nerves he knew made you keen.

“Oh sweet Satanas, you are so wet for me already.” Primo groaned, his own need beginning to fluster him.

“Always.” you muttered. His hand worked you effortlessly to orgasm. Your hips rocking in time with his movements and his detailed attention to your clit made quick work of you. You writhed on the table, already feeling the sweat pooling on the small of your back and drenching inside of your thighs.

Primo pulled back his hand, gently falling to his knees before you. He minded his aching joints as he got into a comfortable position on the floor. His calloused fingers tracing up along your thighs once again. The feel of it, only serving to fuel your hunger. Your insides throbbing at the promise of him inside you.

“Papa, I don’t know if I can wait much longer.” you told him, half begging, the other half teasing.

“You won’t need to wait long amore.” Primo assured you. You rolled your head, side to side, feeling so incredibly so warm. Unsure if it was the greenhouse, your first orgasm, or the intense need to have another. You didn’t have time to decide, as Primo's fingers pressed into the moist flesh of your thighs, slowly opening them, allowing him to see how much you desired him, how much you’d already given up for him.

“I assure you I am just as ready my blossom and I will earn every last drop.” Primo hummed against your thigh, his tongue slithering up to meet with your exposed, tender flesh. He wasted no time in tasting you. Like a full bodied wine, he savored you with every flick and broad stroke of his tongue. Your hips raised off the table, rolling against his mouth as he tasted you.

Tending to your body in ways only he could, like his most cherished of his flowers. He worked meticulously to watch you bloom. Knowing exactly when and where you needed to be touched. He worked you over, slurping and curling his tongue between your folds and gently sucking on the bud of your clit.

You felt yourself throbbing inside, growing closer and closer to your second orgasm. Unable to keep your hands off Primo's head as he pleasured you. "Mmm…" you moaned, your hips rising up once again. The scent of sex not mingling with the smell of the earth that lingered around you from the spilt over plant.

"That's it my petal, allow me to devour youm show you that you are worthy." Primo growled as his mouth returned to you. Between his words and the feel of him, you quickly were there at the precipice once again.

"Oh Papa, I'm going to cum." You managed to get out, breath shaky and legs beginning to shake against the top of Primo's shoulders. He watched you in all your glory, delighted as you came undone. Your body released against his mouth, flooding it with the sweet taste of you.

"Non c'è niente di più dolce del nettare che sgorga da dentro di te." He purred, taking one last lap of his tongue through your folds before attempting to stand up. You admired his resilience. Despite his age, he had always managed to take on the constitution of a younger man when it came to worshiping you. You pulled yourself up on your elbows, Primo basking in the beauty of post-climactic you. His smile turned delvish as he allowed his eyes to crawl over you.

"I need you." You confessed, laid out before him. Primo leaned in, kissing your breast and taking your nipple into his mouth. The pleasure eliciting a moan from within you as your hands slid around his neck. Holding him close against your breast as you felt him lining his cock up with your entrance.

"I need you too–" he groaned, breaking the seal around your nipple and pushing himself inside you. Slowly and mercifully, your body conformed easily to his girth. Every nerve pressed deliciously, with every inch descended. Your walls, encapsulating him as he carefully seated himself fully inside.

He stood still, watching as you shifted around beneath him, so full but begging for friction between you. "Primo please." You mewled as he took a handful of each of your hips—squeezing tightly.

"As you wish." He smiled, rearing back only to slide back in slowly. Finally giving you the movement as friction you craved. He continued his movements over and over again. Brushing tightly along your soft insides, making you lose yourself in the moment.

You loved sex with your husband. His sinful talents, knowing no limit, but there was something even more sensual when he took his time. Maybe it was because he loved you, but then it always did. Maybe it was because you felt it more fully now than you had in week you couldn't be sure.

He was truly making love with you, worshiping you, showing you that all the universe and everything in existence mattered only because you were in it. This—this was the exact thing you needed. The slow and intentioned thrusts of his pelvis pressing hard against you. His cock pounding over and over against your most sensitive of spots.

You wrapped your legs around him, guiding his movements. Primo's breathing, hard and ragged. His mouth falling open as he fucked into you. Lifting you up off the table as he continued his ministrations. Your fingers scraping at his back as the pleasure enveloped you.

It wasn't long before he had you seeing stars. Your orgasm tearing through you like a soul being ripped from the mortal plane. Intense and incredible, holding on tight to his back as you trembled with your release. Feeling Primo's lips pressed into your shoulder as he continued to move.

He too was overcome. Feeling your body hug tightly to him with each and every thrust. He began muttering, under strained whines, in Italian. Singing praises for you as he began to release. His cock, kicking deep inside you, filling you full of his seed.

Primo fell limp against you, both of you spent and content. You pulled up his face to look at you. "Era proprio quello di cui avevo bisogno." You sighed, Primo smiling at the ease in which you spoke his native tongue.

"Good, because I have a feeling I will be paying for that for a few days." He laughed. Both of you, deliciously happy as he brushed your mess of hair back from your face. His eyes filled with love and admiration.

"There is no one else I would rather be in the chaos with other than you my love." You smiled.

"Ah sí, but what beautiful chaos it is."

Notes:

Sacrificherei la mia anima a qualsiasi cosa Dio possa averla, per trascorrere l'eternità dentro di te.- I would sacrifice my soul to whatever God may have it, to spend eternity inside you.

Non c'è niente di più dolce del nettare che sgorga da dentro di te.- There is nothing more sweet than the nectar that pours from within you.

Era proprio quello di cui avevo bisogno- That was just what i needed.

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my-castles-crumbling · 1 month

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Swiftie Anon

Hi guys! I got an ask from an anon that might be triggering so I'm copy-pasting it here so I can put a 'read more' button. I'm naming them Swiftie Anon because they said Taylor really helped them.

TW: SH, SI

Hi Cas, hope you’re ok, because I sure as hell am not. Trigger warning, like mentions of self harm and stuff like that I think.

I’m a seventh grader and recently I’ve been thinking about killing myself a lot more than I usually do. During the pandemic I was in 3rd grade and I kinda realized how much life sucked, but when I went back to school in 5th grade, I realized that this hadn’t occurred to anyone else. I kind of brushed it off bc I’ve always been sort of a pessimist but then I sixth grade I started having suicidal thoughts, I think. I just felt really done with everything, I didn’t want to draw or read or write, and my parents were pissed all the time, it felt like my friends were bored of me (I have abandonment issues from all my friends in elementary school leaving me) (I think)and I thought it would just be easier to not exist anymore, it wasn’t that good. I discovered Taylor, the angel that she is, she just felt…like a friend, like she was right there, you know, and I’ve been mostly okay-ish since. But school fucking sucks and in 7th grade I had to do a presentation in front of my class and I started crying and hyperventilating, I couldn’t even stand up. I think I have anxiety idk. I’ve always been shy, and I’ve hyperventilated before when my parents were yelling at me about stuff and my arms started bleeding because I was digging my nails into them. My parents found out at conferences and I got grounded. my brother knows bc he walked in on me crying and hyperventilating once but he’s leaving for college next year and idk how the fuck I’ll stay together without him. My younger sister and I are really close, but I don’t want to drag her in onto this stuff. And ik once I get to high school it’ll be even worse bc high school sounds horrible and I might be all alone again bc I might not go to the same high school as my friends

I haven’t said a word about this to anyone voluntarily and I know I can’t tell my parents. I always lie on those surveys you get at the doctor, and my parents are always saying I should have a more positive outlook on life and try to be happier and it makes me so pissed bc I am trying as hard as I can to be happening but nothing fucking works.

idk what do with myself anymore, a teacher mentioned college today and I almost broke down sobbing bc I don’t think I’ll let myself live that long. It’s just…really hard and everyday feels like years. Should I tell someone? I’m not as bad as I was in 6th grade, but I know I should be getting help somehow. But I suck at asking for things and I can’t trust any adults.

sorry for the rant, I just need some advice. And a virtual, pat on the head or something, idk.

---

Hi hon!

First, (with your permission), I'm like to give you a virtual hug, because it sounds like you're dealing with a lot <3

I'm gonna be really real with you right now: You need to ask for some help. You have a lot going on, and some really heavy feelings, and you don't deserve to be dealing with them at ALL, let alone by yourself.

You're young, and you have SO MUCH life left to enjoy, and suffering through it like this isn't fair. So I'm going to share something about myself with you, okay?

When I was younger, I was very depressed. I was in a bad relationship and I felt very trapped, and I got to a point similar to you.

One day, I got so overwhelmed that I sort of realized that I either needed to ask for help or I would end up making a really bad decision. So, I asked for help.

Again, I'm going to be real: It was SUPER scary. I had to see a lot of doctors and I cried a lot. But after a lot of work, I was able to get better, and now, years later, I am in a (different) healthy relationship, and I have a job and a pet, and I'm here talking to you.

I know this sounds stupid because it's like some feel-good story and right now I'm sure you feel less than great. But I say this because you NEED to ask for help, even if it is difficult. Because there are real things past this feeling. A future job, a future relationship (if you want), a future pet, future kids (if you want). They're all very real and achievable and this feeling is temporary, even thought it feels so permanent right now.

So I'm going to give you some options, since it seems like you don't want to talk to your parents:

Talk to a doctor. Doctors are trained to help you, and they have a lot of resources.

Talk to a trusted teacher. Teachers can sometimes be amazing resources as well, and a lot of them want to listen when you ask to talk.

Talk to a different adult (aunt, uncle, coach, someone!) that you feel close to that will help.

Call/text/message a hotline. Here is an example of a hotline you can talk to via messaging, text, or phone, depending on what you prefer.

But you need to ask for help, because you DESERVE to be happy and living your best life.

It would make me super happy if you message/inboxed me an update, whether you're doing better, worse, or the same! I'm so proud of you for reaching out and I'm cheering you on!

#ask #asks #ask cas #tw: sh

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plethomacademia · 2 months

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wip thursday (idk)

before i go back to prompts (SEND PROMPTS), thank for to @nullcanary for the wip tag! i am zagging on y'all with a snippet from my most recent dip into my modern AU for Maeve and Gortash.

Reminder: In this AU, Maeve is a Gwyneth Paltrow/Ivanka Trump mishmash nepo baby health guru influencer and Enver is her husband of fifteen years who started as a genius engineer in aviation/rocketry and is now an executive in a weapons manufacturing company. They have an agreement that they each go to one event a quarter to support the other and this is when Maeve makes him go with her to a movie premiere. They have a big house in north NJ that neither of them live in but their three kids (via surrogate) are there.

Anyway y'all ever do good drugs at an afterparty and end up reconnecting with your estranged husband?

In the dark of the room, it’s easy to lean back against the same strong chest, to breathe in the same rich cologne that he has always worn. It settles around her just as his arms settle around her and she feels her own body relax, a combination of success and drugs and heat and dark folding them back together into the shape that they always seemed to end up in. They talk in an easy way, a way that does not stick in her mind in terms of what is said but how it is said, soft smiles and genuine interest, questions and follow ups, eyes that, when they do meet, seem to see each other for the first time in months.

Finally, she feels hot breath on her ear and through the haze, she hears him ask, “Do you want to get out of here?”

She is transported back fifteen years to another party, one with louder music and much stronger drugs, one where she was the one who asked the question, a socialite with dreams and a low cut dress, and he was the young genius that she had taken a shine to.

She takes his hand without a word.

As they wait for the driver to bring around her car, he puts his jacket around her shoulders and she finally feels the chill that he had noticed before she had, the gooseflesh running up her bare arms and back. She closes her eyes and only the light of a flashbulb brings her back enough to realize that they are kissing. She can imagine the comments already, how her fans will gush about her perfect life and her perfect family and her perfect marriage to a perfect man. Neither of them stop, if anything he pulls her closer as another set of flashes go off just before their Escalade blocks them from view.

When her car stops at his hotel for the second time that evening, he offers her his hand and she takes it again, letting him lead her inside. The lobby is gleaming old Hollywood, lights reflected a million times on crystal and brass, and she is happy once they are in the elevator and away from it, happier still when he motions her into his hotel suite and closes the door behind them.

In the dark, they can be hands and hearts. In the dark, they can drop it all, clothes and scars and armor. In the dark, she can focus on the feeling of his hands trailing down her flat stomach that did not bear his children, his somehow still calloused fingers as they open her up, break her apart in the casual way that only someone who has done so a thousand times can manage. In the dark, she can be like she was the first time, drunk with love and the thrill of claiming something for herself, something she was not supposed to have, this man from nothing who built with his hands and saw a future where he owned the world, not because it had been given to him like it had been given to her, but because he had reached out and taken it. In the dark, she can offer herself up and be taken.

When Maeve finally opens her eyes the next day, she can already tell from the light sneaking through the windows that it has to be well past the afternoon. She goes to the bathroom, sees the mascara under her eyes and the marks on her neck under the harsh glow of the vanity light. She turns on the faucet and sets to putting herself back together.

#maevetash #modern au #wip #it's miserable in this scrivener file

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titanicfreija · 7 hours

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Distractions

Sunny found the empress in the Hall of Heroes, standing tall at the doorway they normally started through. "You wanted to talk?" the Ghost asked sweetly.

Caiatl grunted and turned to lumber down the hallway, posture heavy and steps plodding. "I wanted you to talk. I am weary and would appreciate the company of a friend," she replied.

Sunny whirled around and wheeled. It was a relief that she knew Sunny needed the instructions, she must have been getting used to her habits.

"I have good news, then! We got to dig into Thomas's previous life, and Freija asked him about his history! Rex never told us! I have no idea wh-- actually, I do."

Caiatl's relief showed immediately, shoulders relaxing and weight resting on her heels. Her breath even slowed down.

Sunny figured she would only be half listening, but she was happy to have the audience, and even happier to be a relief to someone that needed it.

"So this roommate, of whom you speak quite lowly, was a Warlord?" the empress asked jovially.

"See, that's my favorite part about it-- he said no. He says no, but then every single time he tries to defend his point, he fails. He even gives up and says yes, but then if you say it later, he tries to say no again! I don't understand it. He said he wasn't proud of it, but he even thought about hiding it when they were talking about it!"

"They were not good times for your people. From the sound of it, he did not want to be a Warlord. I personally am on his side of this-- if he does not call himself a Warlord, regardless of his role played, he was not one. I am surprised to hear this. Was his skill always so limited?"

Sunny groaned and swept into a huge circle. "I don't even-- he's not big with his jump, which a lot of Guardians consider to be an important thing. He really is terrible at anything except clearing gaps with a good run-up on flat terrain. But he's fine on the ground. And he can shoot really well, I didn't even know that, and really, he's not bad, it's just that his Ghost is a jerk and he can't be bothered to put up with it enough to shake off the rust and gather some momentum!"

Caiatl grunted. "This Rex. Does he believe Thomas qualified as a Warlord?"

"You know, I don't know," Sunny mused. "Thomas did say he misses those days. Rex didn't say anything himself, he was grouchy that whole trip. He's jealous of me and Freija, they both are, no one is being secretive about knowing. They can't help it, and really, we can't either. The weirdest stuff can bother them, and sometimes I get it but other times I'm just confused."

"Their bond is...?"

"I don't know if you mean bond like the love I mean or like the connection Freija talks about."

"If you will clarify, I will accept any answer."

Sunny wondered briefly if the thing that connected a Ghost and Guardian could be disrupted at all. "The love like I mean, they're... Not in a good place. Rex gets spiteful and apparently won't heal under certain circumstances, and I did know he had problems with his scanner bandwidth range, but I didn't realize how bad, so even the few times he does help, he's not as helpful as, say, I am, just because he can't. Which... If he's been trying to make Thomas make up for things he can't do.... It's rough. They make me feel lucky. They make me feel lucky when we're fighting. But as far as I can tell, they're just as much Ghost and Guardian as Freija and I are. He's actually a great fighter, he really is. It's a shame."

Caiatl "hmphed". Something in it sounded amused. "This is an interesting account. I would not have imagined that a Guardian and their Ghost would be so at odds. It seems counterintuitive."

"People are people," Sunny sighed. "Even an obligatory mutual symbiont. Rex started it, but I think he started it out of something pathetic instead of something mean. Thomas might have been mean back, back then. He's so kind, now. If a little resentful, I can smell that without olfactory sensors."

"How old are they? How long ago was this rift formed between them?"

Sunny wheeled. "I have no idea. Thomas had indicated that it was the library, which means the Tower's formation a couple hundred years ago, but the story he told made it sound earlier than that."

"I would like to witness this discordance," Caiatl chuckled.

"I don't," grumbled Sunny. "They make me feel bad. Sometimes even a little guilty for being friends with Freija in front of them. The look on Thomas's face when I gave Freija her backpack before she asked for it.... I feel bad for Thomas sometimes because I know Rex just can't, but there's lots he can and won't. It's just... Sad."

"And yet he, like any other, kept a band of mortals," she chuckled. "Out of a sense of obligation, as I understand it. Was this Rex supportive?"

"I got a real keen sense that he wasn't." Sunny turned to see Caiatl's tusks bobbing thoughtfully. "I don't know. I literally can't imagine what would make me act like that at Freija. I know he thought he could drive Thomas into being more than he is, but he was mean about it. We've all tried to help, but Rex is too angry about being wrong to correct his mistake. And he gets to see where my incessant cheering on has gotten Freija, someone he considered to be far lesser than Thomas as long as he could get away with it, and that just makes him so angry."

"You seem to simultaneously pity and dislike this Rex. And yet you call him friend?"

"I can love someone I don't like," Sunny said. "I wish I could help them. Freija wants to, too, but neither of us know what to do. Rex is angry and wants to be angry. Thomas is.... Just.... He's so kind, patient, he loves Rex, I think. Feels sorry for him, too. I don't know. They... It's so weird. And sad."

Caiatl chortled and heaved a long sigh. "Somehow, it is a relief to know that even bonds so deep do not guarantee harmony. They do work together?"

"Only in combat. It's one thing Rex can do well, and it's what he wants to do. Thomas is good at it, too, as long as what you need is cover fire. His threadlings will dissolve Vex almost as fast as his needles can unmake them, and once he's linked the needles into his gun, he can send that magic everywhere. But he's not tough. And he's real bad about getting caught out, I think it's him and Rex both being bad at spatial awareness. He has to stay in the back. Rex hates it."

"This Thomas has aligned strongly with the Darkness?" Now the amusement turned to real interest. "Do you suppose there is a link between their weak relationship and his ability to use the Darkness? Does the Ghost facilitate the Darkness the same as the Light?"

Sunny wagged a "no". "Guardians are paracausal-- outside causality, able to break the rules of physics and create matter or manipulate the intangible forces of the universe. So it allows for manipulation of Darkness. I think. I don't know for sure. But anyway-- no, I really don't. Rex likes the Darkness, too, he says. He could just be saying it for effect, but he says Stasis feels minty and strand feels like to swimming in warm water, and he likes both of them. It's been a big relief to them both. We thought it would help them, but they're stuck in their ways. Rex refuses to help Thomas do anything but fight, and Thomas doesn't like fighting. He hates getting shot, he hates dying, and he doesn't like working with anyone at the same time as needing backup." She rolled in the air and wheeled her petals. "That's one thing he is jealous about, Freija is so stupid and headstrong and he would love Thomas to be so combat-ready. Thomas would, too, I think."

Caiatl chewed on that one, too. "Do you think he would be happier with her? Or a Guardian like her?"

Sunny wagged another negative. "I think he'd hate her and anyone else like her. He doesn't know what he wants. If he had Freija, if he tried to tell her to do anything, she'd fight with him first. Anyone like her would do the same. He can't be nice, and Freija doesn't respond well to authority."

Caiatl rumbled another laugh. "She responds to real authority well enough. She knows Rex is not her superior."

Sunny wanted to argue but then she remembered Neomuna. Yeah, fair enough.

"Do you feel a Guardian like Thomas would relieve you of the guilt you suffer for raising a soldier?"

"Eternally bound to the fight," she sighed. She hadn't considered it. "I would ... Probably feel like Rex. Like I wasn't doing enough. I like to think I wouldn't scare my Guardian away from me. I... I don't know what's wrong with Rex."

"You feel he is ungrateful?"

"He had Thomas for five hundred years before I found her and he was disappointed from the first day because he didn't want to get shot. I feel like it's blasphemy to be disappointed in your Guardian like he is. Something about it should feel wrong to him, if you ask me. I think it might and that's what makes him feel like that."

Caiatl chortled. "Is there a grander belief that one can blaspheme?"

Sunny didn't even think about it when she said it. "I mean.... Some of us think we were all created with a purpose and a single Guardian out there to find. Some of us think we happened by accident, tiny fragments of the Traveler trying to save ourselves, and the connections to the Chosen are happenstance, or are something else magical. Some of us think that we were created to fight, or defend humans. It varies by who you ask."

"Your personal belief?"

Sunny paused to consider it. She hadn't rethought it in a while. "Well, I believe that... We were created unintentionally. I also believe that no individual holds the spark for an individual Ghost. We have our Chosens, but to think that we were all created a thousand years ago to look for people that wouldn't be born, let alone die, for centuries..... Bodies decay. To think that anyone could miss their chance just because the body rotted... To think that the Traveler created some Ghosts to die... I don't think it did. Really, I don't think it did just because there's too many of us. I think it broke and we're just dust that came off it. I think the bodies we're drawn to call us, but I don't think it's any single one-- I think more than one holds our spark. But maybe not at a time, or maybe it's spread out until I feed the one that grows, like the one seed of three planted."

Caiatl silently considered this for a time, gazing ahead. She then smirked. "I do not envy your position. I would suffer many doubts, more than you, I think."

"I... Honestly, I don't know. It all comes down to the fact that, if we don't fight, there will be nothing left to fight for. And I have Freija, and she wants to fight, so fight we will. Terrifying as that is."

"Your courage is seen," Caiatl promised.

"Your strength is, too, but remember that you have to rest," Sunny said, seeing the light fade in her eyes. "Do you sleep? You should probably sleep."

Her weight rocked back to her heels and her face plate shifted as her tusks lifted. Her eyelids still drooped. "We sleep. I will. I am glad to see you. I will entertain you, next time." Caiatl put a fist to her chest and bowed, an unusually stuffy gesture.

Sunny nudged the tip of her helmet. She was pretty sure it was the first time she touched the empress, even that little bit. Caiatl chuckled as she drew back to her full height.

"You must be tired, defaulting to formality like that," the Ghost observed. "See if Nimbus will hide you for an hour or so?"

"I will steal the sleep I can," she promised. "How is your Guardian?"

"Standing ground with fire and hammer," Sunny said. "It can be so beautiful, even amongst the horror."

"Her fires are indeed," agreed Caiatl. "I look forward to our next meeting. Farewell.

@wolvereaux. @annieruok94

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