#except for the enemy team ig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dmercer91 · 9 months

Text

hooked, jh86

in which jack is quite literally sleeping with the enemy.

most of the rangers give me egregious vibes so there are hardly any in here and i used their ig handles for twitter i didn't feel like finding the correct ones - set in 2023-24 season

jackhughes

liked by yourusername, nicohischier and 147,122 others

jackhughes: drives me mad

view 1,239 comments..

yourusername: in ny we hard launch like grownups

→ jackhughes: oh yeah?

→ yourusername: once you fuck this one up i’ll swoop in and prove it to u hughesy ;)

trevorzegras: admitting that you’re easily rizzed is crazy

→ jackhughes: easily 🤨

→ trevorzegras: ‘the hit could’ve been harder maybe she likes me 🤭’

→ user: did she hit him with her car or????

user: hit? as in like hockey hit? y/n??????

→ user: she just threatened to mr steal your girl him tho so idk

yourusername: jhugh big foot guy eh?

→ jackhughes: what the fuck y/n

_quinnhughes: luke?

→ lhughes_06: i can’t even explain without giving myself a migraine

dawson1417: i’m telling nico

→ jackhughes: there’s nothing to tell nico 🤨

→ nicohischier: nico uses context clues to deduce things

elblue6: ❤️

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yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes and 129,483 others

yourusername: van @ nyr except i adopted the sad one

jack was there too, unfortunately

load 1,612 comments..

jackhughes: now what is this

→ yourusername: i’m already planning on adding z to my collection when the ducks are up here

→ trevorzegras: did u just say collection

→ jackhughes: so you wanna be friends with all my friends but i try and be friends w u and i’m gross? ouch

→ yourusername: have u ever considered that you’re my teams rival

→ jackhughes: i’ve considered it and also decided it won’t stop me

→ yourusername: have you considered that you’re icky

→ jackhughes: wtf

_quinnhughes: ankle biter

→ yourusername: it was his shoulder and i can bite him whenever i want

nyrangers: traitor :(

→ yourusername: no admin it’s ok it’s the good hughesy

→ lhughes_06: i’ve done nothing to you

→ yourusername: you get in my way a lot

shesterkinigor: funny

→ yourusername: i try

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njdevils

liked by yourusername, dougieham and 17,444 others

njdevils: we guess this one’s not so bad 😉 @yourusername

view 592 comments..

user: this is.. unsettling

user: him patting her after every connection was top tier i need her in a devs jersey

yourusername: don’t let this fool you i still like quinn better

→ jackhughes: will you let me have this one

→ yourusername: you’re lucky i didn’t throw the game just so you’d lose

→ lhughes_06: there’s always next year

nyrangers: we can admit that this one (1) thing is cute

→ yourusername: enemies to lovers??????

→ nyrangers: no, y/n.

→ yourusername: ok attitude

jackhughes: thanks for the passes or whatever @yourusername

→ yourusername: shut up

user: they’re sleeping in the same hotel room??

→ yourusername: no j just commits some light b&e in his free time

→ jackhughes: did you just call me j

→ yourusername: i also called you a felon

→ trevorzegras: i think he’s just gonna look right past that

user: loving the full blown conversations happening in comment sections lately

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yourusername

liked by elblue6, dougieham and 179,537 others

yourusername: ⛽️

view 2,029 comments..

jackhughes: i thought nyers hard launched 🤨

→ yourusername: do you have my notifs on??

→ jackhughes: no comment

user: those are jacks hands

→ user: why do you… know that, even?

user: this is why the nhl is all men lmao they aren’t focused on fucking their opponents

→ yourusername: oh babe.. i have some news for you

→ user: ITS A PLAYER?????????

dougieham: gross

→ yourusername: behave douglas

lhughes_06: what pro hockey player has another man tie her skates for her

→ yourusername: the kind that knows your address and will take your ligaments away

nyrangers: our girl

→ user: can i have your girl

→ njdevils: ^

→ nyrangers: no

_quinnhughes: you hurt my brain

→ yourusername: ok

user: THE TYING THE SKATES!!! JACKS SOFT LAUNCH

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twitterhockeybropodcast

y/n y/ln has allegedly requested a trade out of new york 👀

722 ❤ 312 ↳ 147 💬

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dawson1417: you know @/yourusername i’ve heard jerseys pretty nice

→ dawson1417: you wouldn’t even have to move!

→ yourusername: oh boy

trevorzegras: y/n/n y/ln YOU are an anaheim duck

→ _quinnhughes: step back off my teammate

→ yourusername: you’re both delusional

user: awh the guys wanting her on their teams 🥹

colecaufield: i’ll teach you french @/yourusername

→ yourusername: i only want to know the bad words

→ colecaufield: that’s doable

→ yourusername: sold

user: quinn and the honorary hughes’ is cute but WHERE IS JACK??

→ user: right like he hasn’t even liked it

→ user: he took down his soft launch?

edwards.73: you will eventually get to play with me if you go to jersey @/yourusername

→ yourusername: it's really cute that you though this would help build your case ed

→ edwards.73: can't blame a guy for trying

jackhughes: does this mean we can be friends now?

→ yourusername: oh lol sure

→ user: oh this was painful to read

to, j 💥: is everything ok?? read, 6:33pm

to, j 💥: jack what the hell read, 7:12pm

to, j 💥: you can't really be moody cause i requested a trade from a team you don't even play for lmao

from, j 💥: i'm at practice. talk later

to, j 💥: i'm literally with daws and luke right now dude

to, j 💥: wtf did i do?? read, 7:44pm

to, j 💥: since when am i the one begging to make this work????

to, j 💥: you've been telling me for fucking months you didn't care what it meant as long as we could try us out

to, j 💥: you can't tell me how much you want me around one day and work so hard to make me believe you and then completely flip my world around the next that's not fair read, 8:19pm

to, j 💥: i at least deserve an explanation

from, jack: maybe i'm sick of people telling me i'm fucking up my whole life for you and that you're just gonna dump me before the playoffs so i lose focus

to, jack: hello?? lose focus against the team i'm requesting to leave?

to, jack: and who is people? all i've done is prove that i wouldn't fucking do that

to, jack: i'm literally with two of your teammates right now read, 8:25pm

to, jack: whatever, j. i asked for a trade for you lmao

from, jack: how is that for me? you're gonna be in a completely different fucking state and we'll never see each other

to, jack: that's what this is abt?? you could've just said something, j

from, jack: i don't think you can just unrequest the trade, y/n.

from, jack: what's done is done

to, jack: what would've happened if they just traded me regardless of if i asked?? would you have shut me out cause you don't like the distance when it wasn't my fault?

from, jack: that's different and u know it

to, jack: whatever jack

to, jack: see you wednesday

from jack: against the avs?? you got traded to fucking colorado?

to, jack: no. i got traded to the devils.

njdevils

ranger devil 😈 @/yourusername

2922 ❤ 456 ↳ 78 💬

view comments..

yourusername: i've always looked good in red

→ njdevils: our girl

dawson1417: FUCK YEAHHHH

→ yourusername: LEFT LOCKER NEIGHBOUR!!

→ dawson1417: RIGHT LOCKER NEIGHBOUR !!!!!!

lhughes_06: i'm gonna get bullied so much more often

→ yourusername: amen to that moosey

→ lhughes_06: no, not amen to that y/n/n

user: again i ask WHERE IS JACK

nicohischier: another one that won't listen to me

→ yourusername: not reporting for duty, cap 🫡

→ nicohischier: i'm not endeared

→ yourusername: fuck yeah you are

trevorzegras: i know i'm not meant to take personal offence to this but i am

→ yourusername: quinn is GROUCHY

→ _quinnhughes: why does jack get all the cool people i want to have a lake house adoptee on the canucks

→ yoursername: just bring petey

→ eliaspettersson_: do not volunteer me for that chaos

user: i'm kinda concerned at the lack of jack and y/n lately like what happened

jackhughes: new liney?

→ yourusername: new liney :)

→ lhughes_06: 🤨

→ user: luke don't expose your brother's weird cryptic comments as being weird and cryptic challenge

→ lhughes_06: hmm no

njdevils

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes and 34,899 others

njdevils: we think we've seen this film before and we loved the ending (bratter - jack - y/n/n line supremacy)

view 583 comments..

jackhughes: start building the statue

→ yourusername: fucking right

user: the way that she just screamed in his face on her first assist to his goal i could SOB

→ user: and his fucking SMILE BACK AT HER

→ user: and her third goal!! the jump into his arms

user: in love w them actually

→ njdevils: us too

lhughes_06: they should've smooched on centre ice with the hats falling down

→ lhughes_06: what lol who said that

dawson1417: RIGHT LOCKER NEIGHBOUR DID THAT

→ yourusername: i couldn't have done wonderwall with out your harmonizing merc

→ dawson1417: i do have the voice of an angel

trevorzegras: i love how it feels to be a hater

→ _quinnhughes: ^

→ yourusername: wonderwall concert, 5pts, and i got quinn hughes to agree with trevor zegras. i am her.

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, nicohischier and 289,111 others

yourusername: j <3

view 677 comments..

jackhughes: favourite liney?

→ yourusername: forever liney

lhughes_06: open your messages you demonic being

→ yourusername: do u know how much EFFORT that is

→ lhughes_06: i could imagine it's not a lot??

dawson1417: yucky

→ yourusername: we facetime like teenaged girls n you and ryleigh screeched in excitement when you recognized his room this morning

→ dawson1417: ok???? i screeched cause of the yuckiness

_quinnhughes: i guess you not being a canuck is tolerable if this is the outcome

→ trevorzegras: speak for yourself quintin i want her to be my liney forever 😾

→ yourusername: sorry z <3

→ jackhughes: she's not sorry

→ yourusername: i'm sort of sorry

→ trevorzegras: good enough!

user: SCREAMING AND CRYING OMG

→ user: WE'VE BEEN WAITING

user: mom n dad

dougieham: this is terrefying

→ yourusername: ok

john.marino97: new reality tv show live in the locker room except theres no drama it's just hughesy being whipped

→ yourusername: your favourite!

→ john.marino97: i hate every second

njdevils: it's not like we saw this coming or anything

→ yourusername: ADMIN

view more comments..

#e's edits!#jack hughes #nhl imagine #jack hughes x reader #hockey imagine #new jersey devils

832 notes · View notes

starvine · 1 year

Text

☾ ⋆* kiss it better

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!omaticaya reader

genre: fluff, angst

synopsis: all you wanted to do was serve your people. however, when you get injured, your mission is cut short. neteyam insists upon patching you up and decides to explain his concerns for your well-being and future together.

warnings: battle stuff, guns, blood, battle injuries, medical jargon, stitches, minor swearing (?), allusions to mating/sex ig, aged-up neteyam

word count: 7.9k

notes: IT’S HERE! i’m very excited to have started writing again, and although i’m very casual about when i write, i hope to be somewhat consistent lol. enjoy this for now, i have more planned for the future! i hope you all enjoy, pls reblog/comment/etc if you feel so inclined <33

The air was tense today, thick with disciplined focus as you keep your ears alert for any incoming airships. Reeking of smoke and burning metal, a scent that is foreign and unpleasant to your nose, you remain aware of everything and anything. Gray clouds billowing and a pungent smell that cling to the back of your throat like a hand with a vice grip—nothing was natural.

Tilting your forehead forward, you hope your visor, decorated with teeth and interwoven pieces, will shield your eyes from the wind. You hold your bow tightly, the wood smooth against your fingers as you use your other hand to guide your ikran swiftly through the air.

“Calm, calm,” you soothe her, tapping your fingers along her strong neck.

You’re anxious today. Not because of the imminent arrival of the Sky People, their ships ready to fire metal bullets at you at any second; you’ve dealt with that many times before. No, the reason you’re nervous is because of Neteyam.

Today is Neteyam’s first day participating in the raid—well, his first raid on the ground with his father’s permission—rather than being a part of the aerial surveillance team. You tried to insist that you should accompany him, but, due to his wishes, you remained in the air beside his mother.

“Do you see anything yet?” Neytiri’s voice asks over the intercom.

Bringing your fingers to your throat to press the responding button, you reply, “Nothing yet.”

“I’m going to fly down to help gather some of the gear. You stay here,” she orders, raising her bow to signal that she and her ikran were descending.

“Let us know if you spot any bogeys. We’ve got some heavy-duty gear and need as much time as possible,” Jake informs you over the intercom.

“Roger that, sir,” you say, steering your ikran closer to where the enemy would most likely be approaching.

Ears twitching back and forth, you attempt to pick up the whir of an aircraft amongst the orders commanded, the creaks and minor explosions occurring from the Meg-Lev train your people have intercepted, and the wind blowing past you. You hope that maybe you could track a scent, sniffing the air a couple of times to no avail. It’s all smoke and metal. The skies were calm, except for your ikran’s screeching, however, they couldn’t be for long. There was no way those demons would allow your people to escape that easily.

“Hey,” Neteyam breathes over the intercom, a slight huff of your name. You could hear the smile on his face. “How’re things looking up there?”

“What happened to using my code name?” you question, peering over your ikran in an attempt to find him along the ground. “I’ll tell you if I see anything. I know how to do my job, you know.”

“Just double checking,”

You scoff, guiding your ikran to the right. “Maybe you should focus on gathering all of the gear instead,”

“Oh, really? Maybe you should-”

Suddenly, your ears flex forward, focused on the faint whirring of something mechanical and man-made; something that was not naturally occurring within your world.

“Airships spotted! Everyone, move!” you shout over the intercom. You yelp out into the open air, pumping your bow in tandem with the three shouts you release to alert your fellow brothers and sisters in battle.

Just as people begin clambering for their ikrans and direhorses, the two Scorpions start firing. The relentless pop of military guns fills your ears, causing your tail to swish frantically and your ears to perk forward.

Using a high pitch, you signal for your ikran to dive, swooping up and under the two fighter pilots.

“Do not engage! I repeat, do not engage! I want minimal casualties today,” Jake commands over the intercom, the background full of shouts and grunts.

“Jake, I’ve got to take out these two airships. They’re already taking down ikrans,” you spoke, peering up at the airships as you stealthily soar below.

Just then, Neteyam responds.

“No! Listen to my father, do not engage. I can lead the people to safety,”

“There won’t be any people to lead if I don’t take these airships down.”

Neteyam groans your name in warning, the sound of shouts heard from all around. “Would you listen for once?”

Jake barks your name, frustrated and frantic. “Get out of there! Get back to the High Camp!” he orders. You begin mapping out the plan of your attack. “That is a direct order!”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you respond, ignoring all that comes after.

Your ikran shoots straight up into the air, coming close to the tail-end of the Scorpion gunship. You arch over the top of the gunship, upside down and looping over to the front side. The sun high in the sky and its beams creating a glare on the glass makes it difficult for you to spot the pilot. Upon finding his location, you draw the string of your bow taught, ready to fire.

“Incoming! Enemy on-”

You shriek upon release. The arrow flies straight through the glass, nailing your target right in the chest.

The gunship begins to tilt forward, preparing for its decline. As a hunter and warrior, it was your duty to pay respects to the creatures you killed in order to sustain the way of life. Kneeling over them, declaring your thanks, and wishing for their safe return to rest amongst the Great Mother was a sacred practice. However, as the gunship crashed and blew up in flames, hot and angry, you felt no thanks or remorse. They did not deserve to rest peacefully, and they didn’t even deserve to die on the Great Mother’s sacred soil. Their spirits deserved to walk alone, isolated and cold from the warm glow of the afterlife.

“You skxawng! What the hell are you doing?” Neteyam screams.

Looking around, you see the green back of his ikran, its rider perched on top with no visible concerns except for the fury etched on his face.

“I got this! It’s just one more,” you insist, positioning an arrow on your bow, eyeing the last gunship.

“May the Great Mother help you when I knock-” and with that, he’s easily ignored.

The wind whips past you, high and soft, almost like a whisper from Eywa that she too felt the tensions of battle. You would do anything to soothe her pain. She could not endure the suffering of this war much longer.

Tightening your grip on your ikran, her blues providing a stark contrast to the grayness of the military equipment, you attack from the rear yet again. Guns firing, you duck, placing yourself as flat as you can get against her back. However, once you approach the opening of the ship, where all of the massive guns were placed, you sit up, firing quickly.

The scream and weak grunt you heard confirms that it was a successful hit. Loading your bow with another arrow, you soar underneath the aircraft, looping around until you have the high ground. Securing your aim, your fingers release the string until the arrow flies straight into one of the Scorpion's propellers. A small explosion soon turned into a large one, the ship dipping to its left and falling from its dominant space in the sky to the dirt.

However, so were you.

You must’ve underestimated how close you were to the ship, your eagerness to protect your people and the Great Mother clouded your judgment.

The sound and burst of light, as well as the force, must’ve spooked your companion as she, too, seemed to have lost her place in the sky. She tumbles towards the ground, shrieks and roars released into the open air. Jaw clenched, you tried to convince her to gain control to no avail.

“Come on!” you shout, knuckles turning a pale blue with the tight grip you had.

As you neared the ground, panic began to set in. Your ears lay flat against your head in an attempt to not become overwhelmed by the wind, you tried to think quickly.

You could stay with your ikran, but you would both get injured; you could also disconnect from her and leap from the group, in hopes of only injuring yourself.

Deciding on the latter, you had one plea for the Great Mother:

“Please don’t let Neteyam kill me.”

Disconnecting your kuru, you leap the rest of the way to the ground, the shock of the force of your fall causing you to fall instead of landing perfectly on your feet. The ship crashes a couple of yards in front of you, the force of the blast propelling you forward.

Rolling and skidding along the dirt, pieces of gravel and discarded glass and metal tear at your skin. Red begins to bubble up along the surface, the violent opposite of your blue skin.

Tumbling down a hill, you lose your grip on your bow, the wood being left behind in your trail. The burning sensation of your flesh being scraped away keeps you alert, blindly clutching at anything to break your fall.

Eventually, you slow to a stop, landing on your stomach with a mouthful of dirt. Spitting and coughing up the soil, you take a minute to catch your breath. With a slight raise of your head, you look at the ship as the flames crackle and cause a film of sweat to break out on your skin. That hunk of metal was truly ugly against the backdrop of the forest.

You begin to slowly sit up, a sharp pain coming from your side. A cut, not deep enough to need stitches, slowly oozes blood down your left rib, crimson staining the skin. It looks swollen, screaming to be disinfected immediately. Reaching behind you to check for any more severe wounds, you arch away from your nimble fingers just upon a light graze. The heat from the explosion must’ve irritated the skin, causing soreness and slight bubbling in some places.

Minor scrapes along your knees and elbows from what you could see and feel, makes you thank Eywa for her protection and the benign wounds. Stumbling onto your feet, you catch sight of something unnatural.

A small piece of metal protrudes from the side of your thigh, embedded into the flesh. Staring at the shrapnel, you’re reminded that your world doesn’t just belong to you anymore. Even if the Sky People were to disappear and return back to their planet, the scientists would remain here. Their clunky gear and massive structures would continue to reside amongst the nature of Pandora.

Something about that notion makes your heart sink.

You lightly touch the silvery metal, trying to gauge how deep the foreign object must be. It felt stiff and unwilling to relent to your touch, confirming that it was not something you could brush off. Taking a step forward, a broad, aching pain festers throughout your leg. It hurt less if you put less pressure on the limb, however, that would be hard to do on your journey back to the High Camp.

Picking up your bow from the ground, arrows broken and scattered around, you slowly mount your ikran, muttering expletives to yourself at the pain that dwelled throughout your entire body.

Neteyam was surely going to kill you.

Upon your arrival, after an arduous flight back home, you slowly slid off your companion onto the uneven rock. Blood oozed out from around the metal, the object having dug deeper into the surface the more you moved. With one hand clutching your rib and another trying to steady the object, you hoped to stumble into a healing area before you were noticed by a Sully.

Turns out, you’re not as stealthy as you thought.

“She’s back! She’s back!” a high-pitched cheer sounded, a small girl bouncing towards you. Tuk’s big grin slowly faded into a look of concern and worry as she sized up your injuries. “Mom! Kiri! She’s hurt!”

The younger girl prances over to you, lifting your arms and examining your body from front to back. You feel the small girl brush against your tail, which was agitatedly flicking back and forth.

With a sigh of your name, you see Tuk’s mother and elder sister approach you, war paint still decorating Neytiri’s face in vibrant greens and yellows. She gasps upon spotting the dirt, blood, and bruising that has blossomed across your skin, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as her eyes fill with worry.

“We must get her to grandmother,” Kiri announces to her mother, clutching your upper arm as softly as she could without hurting you.

“There’s no need. I can do it myself,” you try to assure her, taking a fumbling limp forward.

“There is a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.”

You glance down, almost as if you hadn’t noticed it at all before. It was a futile attempt, especially as you used your fingers to brace the object, preventing it from moving too much. “There is?”

“Damn, bro!” Lo’ak exclaims, waltzing up beside you and trying his best to not laugh at your given failure. “Looks like someone got their ass handed to them by some Sky People,”

Hissing at him, you weakly push at his chest to show him that you weren’t interested in his jokes right now.

“Lo’ak!” his mother scolds, hitting him upside the head.

“What?! What I’d do?!”

Then, the two people you desperately wanted to avoid came into view: Neteyam and his father. Jake had a stern, militant look on his face—a facade that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Neteyam’s face was set into a deep frown, a look that was a delicate cross between his mother’s and father’s disappointed faces.

“Well, would you look at the time? Looks like I better start tending to-” you attempt to walk away, only to be kept in place by Neytiri’s firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not like you’d be able to escape them as quickly or swiftly as you would typically be able to. You–apparently–had a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Jake scolds still dressed head to toe in his fusion of Omaticaya and Sky military gear. “Disobeying direct orders? That isn’t something I expected from you.”

Casting your eyes downwards, you hope your flat ears and limp tail would get you out of this scolding quicker than it would’ve if he was scolding Neteyam or Lo’ak. Typically, avoiding his gaze would show that you felt regret—which, in this case, you didn’t really—and he’d let you move on. However, it’s hard to keep your eyes fixed on the ground when someone gets into your line of view.

Neteyam crouches down, face coming into view as if he’s trying to catch your fake performance. Instead, he places two hands, worn and calloused from all of the years of fighting and defending his people, onto your cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he can view you from his natural height, allowing him to view each scrape and bruise in proper lighting. His lips twitch into a grimace, thumbs grazing over a small cut that must be on your cheek because, although there’s a faint sting, there’s no leaking blood.

Now, everyone knew about you and Neteyam. It’s not like it was kept a secret. Wherever you went, he followed; whatever he was doing, you were right there beside him. In the years to come, you would become his mate and that was an unspoken decision between you and him. Well, there was also an unspoken rule between Neteyam and the rest of the boys his age to not even glance at you, or else he’d have their tails. However, no matter how much people smiled softly whenever you’d exchange fond glances or spare looks when you two ran off alone, it wasn’t like you publicly displayed much physical affection. Nonetheless in front of his parents.

He unloops your visor from behind your ears, handing it to his brother without his gaze leaving your face. As soon as his hands leave you, they return just as quickly. His fingers smooth over your face, confirming that you’re breathing and here in front of him—something he’s very grateful for. Your stupidity—not so much.

“You’re such a skxawng,” he chides, tilting your face towards his.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. It’s not like I’m the one who took down—not one—but two whole- ow!” you yelp, stumbling forward towards the young man.

Tuk looks at you guiltily, one finger outstretched as if she was prodding at something.

Kiri steps forward, pushing Tuktirey out of the way in order to re-examine your back.

“We should take her to grandmother,” she insists, “now.”

You roll your eyes, trying to continue with your act of not being nearly as injured as you appear, but the longer you stand, the more it becomes not true. As the adrenaline wears off, the soreness and incessant throbbing grow throughout your muscles and bones. Your rib and leg are still oozing blood, warm and tacky against your skin. Neteyam loops an arm around you, careful to avoid the blisters and welts that decorate various places on your back.

His free hand reaches for the hand that hangs limply over his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and giving them a light squeeze. “It’ll all be okay,”

“Yeah, I know. Just ‘cause I’m walking a bit funny doesn’t mean I’m dying,”

You could say that then, but you sure as hell can’t say that now.

If there was one thing about Mo’at, it was that she couldn’t care less if her remedies stung like a bitch as long as they cured you thoroughly. So now, as she smears a paste along your back—the sensation as bitter and frigid as the Northernmost part of any mountain—that bites at your skin, you kind of wish you were dead. Or at least knocked out.

This isn’t even the worst of it.

Once the stinging fades more into a relaxing cool, Mo’at instructs you to lean backward so she can assess your torso. The older woman crouches next to you, hands hovering over the wound as if Eywa was sending her a direct message on the best way to heal you. Neteyam sits on the other side of you, clutching your hand with a grip that seems more like it’s to reassure him than you, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face.

Neytiri stays close to her mother, observing or advising what she believes to be the next course of action—just as a tsakarem should do. Kiri stays by your feet, grinding and mashing up various plants and syrups that could be used to aid with disinfecting your wounds. Lo’ak and his father stay near the door, ready to leave if someone else should need assistance with anything to do with the war effort. However, as everyone stays well within their place, performing their necessary task, Tuk couldn’t seem to sit still.

“Is she going to need stitches?” Tuk asks, peering over her eldest brother.

Neteyam removes his hand from your hair, slightly readjusting the younger’s weight so she doesn’t put too much pressure on him, in turn, putting pressure on you.

The Tsahìk doesn’t look up from your wound, eyes brightening as if Eywa had finally delivered her guidance to the woman. “No, she will just need to rest. I would advise very minimal movement for at least seven days,” the woman says, being handed a bowl of yellowish sap.

“Seven days? But I need to be out there, it’s my duty to fight,” you plead, growing restless and inching upwards.

Neteyam pushes you back down, delicate but firm fingers pressing against your sternum. “Down,” he murmurs.

“It is not my fault you did not listen to orders,” the older woman retorts, using a brush-like leaf to observe the consistency of the paste before lowering it toward your injury.

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault that I just happened to save- oh, Great Mother! Holy sh-” you yelp upon Mo’at contact.

Neteyam presses a hand over your mouth, sending you a stern glare. “Not in front of the Tsahìk,” he hushes, palm warm against your lips.

You groan against his hand, face twisting and back arching in pain. Unlike the gel thinly spread across your back, there was no relief from this paste. Mo’at continued to slather it all across your skin, insisting that the more you move, the more it will hurt. You squeeze Neteyam’s hand, feeling the bones shift with how strong your grip is. If you’re hurting him, you can’t tell. The look of pain on his face seems to be linked to his feelings about your injuries, your pain. Always the doting lover.

Once Mo’at wraps the injury, using both Na’vi and human medical wraps, she places a palm over the injury, thanking the Great Mother. Then, she looks at your leg.

Your leg was held down by Kiri throughout the excursion, as she didn’t want the shrapnel to lodge itself deeper into the skin and muscle. At the base of your leg, a piece of twine is firmly wrapped around the skin to lightly restrict blood flow. The skin was not pinched, nor did you lose feeling in your leg as you would’ve if the twine was used as a makeshift tourniquet, however, your thigh still resisted against the band.

You haven’t cried yet, however, just with her eyes boring into your leg you feel as if you’re about to sob.

“Please don’t take it out. I don’t- I don’t want to have to do this anymore,” you begin to blubber, looking at Neteyam as you try to sit up.

“Shh, shh,” he placates, stroking your cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here, I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I’ve been hurting this whole time,” you groan, “what the hell have you been-”

Then, the last two people you want to see walk into the room: Norm and Max.

“I grabbed them as soon as I heard,” says Spider, following close behind.

“No. No, no, no. Get the hell away from me,” you say, instantly shooting up and trying your best to scoot away, even as Kiri still holds down your leg.

Neteyam says your name so sweetly, so full of fondness that a chill is sent up your spine—a chill that isn’t caused by the cooling medicine or a shock of pain. “He’s here to help.”

“I don’t want him here,” you spit, speaking Na’vi to the boy sitting beside you.

“We have no choice,” he reasons, his voice dropping an octave. “They will be much quicker with their equipment than with ours. I promise that my grandmother will heal and treat you, but we need their help to make sure that there’s no extra damage that is beyond what the eye can see.”

You shake your head, refusing to listen to him and averting your gaze.

His lithe fingers reach for your chin, turning you back towards him. There he goes again; always making you feel like the blushing fool, especially in front of his family.

“I will not let them hurt you.”

What a fucking liar.

Taking a team of three women plus Norm to hold your leg down, Max begins to lower his tweezers toward the piece of metal. With the first tug, you begin screaming. The pressure and the resistance between Max’s tweezers and the artificial shard against your tender skin and muscle caused your free leg to kick, hands tightening at your sides and clinging onto Neteyam. The fact that your whole body was tense, each muscle spasming, probably didn’t help what was already a difficult procedure.

“Damn, she’s strong,” Norm comments, adding more pressure in an attempt to hold your leg down. “Spider, help us out.”

You continue to sob, reaching for Neteyam to claw at his shoulder. If you’re hurting him or breaking skin, he doesn’t tell you. Instead, he cradles you as you cry against his leg. Ripping your hand from his, you squeeze his leg, nose pressed against his thigh to hide your face. There’s no guarantee that half of the clan hasn’t heard you by now, nor that a few people have poked their heads in to see who the hell was screaming so damn loud. You were well known. There’s no way anybody wouldn’t recognize that it was you who was being surgically tortured. However, if you could save some dignity by hiding yourself against Neteyam, you would do just that.

“I’m never letting them near my body again,” you weep, gripping tight to the blue skin beneath you.

Neteyam rakes his fingers through your hair, hands petting any inch of skin that has brought you comfort over the years. He knows you like the back of his hands. Playing with your hair puts you to sleep, rubbing his thumb across your cheek makes you keen, following the slope of your nose makes you smile, and touching your ear makes you quiet. Using this knowledge, Neteyam’s hands roam to any expanse of skin that he can reach. He must look mad, with busy fingers and frantic eyes, but he can’t help himself. His chest hurts when he sees you like this, and if he needs to kill someone to make you feel better, he’d gladly do that.

“It’s almost out. We’re almost done,” he assures you in a soft tone, getting close to your ear.

Your ears, which have been laying flat and folding over periodically finally perk up and away from your skull—a sense of relief. It’s quick-lived before they fall back against your hair, but he sees it as a small win.

“Can you dress it for me?” you plea, voice breaking painfully.

Who is he to deny you?

“All done!” Max cheers, placing the flat piece of shrapnel into an emesis basin.

The clang of the metal against metal causes you to abruptly sit up. Neteyam’s hand is on your shoulder, but for the first time, it’s not to push you back down. He lets you take your time viewing the sizable gash in your leg, an injury that without a doubt needs extra aid. You whimper at the sight, not necessarily at the pain, but because you knew what this means: you would be under strict supervision at the battle scene. You couldn’t be trusted to be alone, especially as you were a great friend of the Sully’s and Neteyam’s prospective mate.

Falling back into Neteyam, the cries you let out are softer but still cause your body to shake. Neteyam rubs his cheek against yours when you hide your face in his neck, tears causing the blue skin to become slick and tacky. He readjusts your top which has moved around during all of your painful squirming, protecting your modesty. The beads land softly against your shoulder, arms holding you snuggly against him. He tucks your hair behind your ear, giving him a view of the ear that is decorated with various pieces of Omaticaya jewelry. An orange bead, delicately dangling from your lobe, was a gift from him.

“It makes me feel wiser during battle,” you told him once before sending an arrow straight through the eye of a fish that swam around in the pond.

He touches it lightly, reminding you that everything is alright.

“No! She’s going to need stitches!” Tuk whimpers, a frown deeply set on her face. Even through your crying, Neteyam catches the faintest hint of a smile.

Mo’at begins to drip water over the wound, clearing away any blood that may have leaked down your leg despite the twine restricting your blood flow.

It’s silent besides Max, Norm, and Jake’s mumbling outside of the tent as Mo’at preps a needle and thread. Kiri, Neytiri, and Spider have since released your leg, observing you and the Tsahìk. Just as Mo’at blesses the needle and thread, Neteyam speaks up.

“I’ll do it.”

Mo’at looks at her grandson, her gaze strong but understanding. The white bone needle stays pinched between her two fingers, amber eyes unwavering.

“Neteyam, let your grandmother-“

“I said I’ll do it.” he hushes, lip curling in order to hide a scowl.

His mother looks at her own, a non-verbal communication occurring between their stares. Eventually, Neytiri acquiesces, standing up and taking a step away from you.

Mo’at hands him the needle, placing a worn but beautiful hand on your leg.

“Return here tomorrow so I can check on the wound,” she orders. You nod, eyes still teary before the older woman stands with her daughter, ready to move on to the other warriors who need their assistance.

Once his mother and grandmother leave, Neteyam grows restless.

“Everyone out, please.”

Kiri scoffs at him, still seated by your feet. “You can‘t be serious,”

“Out! Get out!” he hisses, fangs bared at his sister and the human boy beside her. “You have done nothing!”

“I wouldn’t call holding down her leg for nothing. I’ll have bruises for the next week,” Spider dismisses, standing up with Lo’ak, who is already headed towards the exit.

“Out!” he shouts one final time, his siblings leaving as his tail flicks back and forth with irritation.

It isn’t until they’re gone, that Neteyam leaves your right side, scrambling and pouncing over you in order to come in contact with your left leg.

The tent is silent as he begins his work. The process doesn’t hurt much, a gentle prick or pinch here and there; you’re not sure whether it’s because your nerves are shot and can’t detect pain anymore or because Neteyam is good at his work. It could be both. Before you know it, the wound is closed and a row of sutures stares back at you in a familiar Na’vi sewing pattern. The skin is even, nothing too uncomfortable, and although there’s bruising, it appears to be that everything will be okay.

You reach out to touch the stitches with a shaky hand, only to be slapped away. “Uh uh, don’t touch,” he tuts, eyes focused and mouth slightly ajar in concentration.

He grabs under your knee, bending it at the joint in order to prop it up so he can place a bandage over the sutures.

“To protect them,” he informs you, wrapping the gauze around your thigh.

He’s very quiet throughout, a reaction you were not expecting. Neteyam has always been logical, methodical; he never steps out of line or does something rash unless it’s for the means of protecting those he loves. Always quick to action, he’s usually the first to help and the first to reprimand someone (usually Lo’ak) for their stupidity. That would be the typical reaction. However, now he looked almost forlorn.

Once he’s done, he fully stands for the first time since you entered the tent. He begins to rummage through his grandmother’s remedies that sit in wooden jars and crystal vials, concoctions she’s mastered after years and years of being the Tsahìk. After selecting a small wooden bowl filled with clear oil, he grabs another bowl of water and a rag and sits down in front of you. Dabbing the rag in the bowl of water, he lifts the dripping cloth toward your face.

“What are you doing?”

He looks at you, eyes narrowing briefly before they return to their normal, large position.

“Your face is filthy.”

He gently holds your chin, tilting it up towards him so he can begin wiping your face. His hold is steady but his eyes look nerved, almost as if he has too much on his mind to bear. His breathing matches yours, and he dodges your gaze although his entire being crowds your line of sight. There’s no way for him to avoid you, really.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as he dips the rag and wrings out all of the water, approaching your face yet again.

“Nothing is wrong,” he replies curtly, his ears twitching quickly before returning to their previous state—a telltale sign that he’s lying.

“Oh, so you’re just going to pretend like I know nothing about you now?” you try to joke, smile falling when you notice how he doesn’t reciprocate your humor. “Talk to me,” you urge, grabbing his wrist so he can’t try to distract you or himself by caring for your wounds.

He sighs, looking away before he slowly looks back at you. Holding your gaze, eyes squinting and lips pursing slightly. Neteyam looks at you like you’re supposed to understand him–and you do–but it’s as if he’s expecting you to know what’s bothering him. However, the problem is that you don’t. Once he comes to that realization, he sighs, still looking into your eyes.

“I’m upset with you.”

And there it is. Your tail swishes uneasily, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Neteyam, but he can’t bring himself to quell his emotions for your sake. He almost lost you.

“Why are you upset with me?”

He shrugs, almost as if he’s embarrassed or too shy to explain his feelings. Being the eldest son and the next heir, Neteyam often felt as if he had to hide his own inhibitions or concerns in order to be a good son, a good brother, a good leader. When it was just the two of you, you would often have to do a little extra prying in order to get him to reveal what was truly occupying that pretty little head of his. Even once he admitted it, it was even harder to get him to elaborate.

“Just drop it. You should be healing,” he dismisses, trying to distract himself by wiping your face again.

Pushing his wrist away with your fingers, you take the cloth and throw it into the bowl of water. Holding his hands on your lap, his tail swishing timidly behind him, you make him look at you by following his gaze. “I can talk and heal. The two aren’t mutually exclusive,”

“I wish they were,” he mutters, a braid swinging in front of his face.

“Hey,” you tuck the strand behind his ear. He leans towards your touch, almost as if he craves it, no matter how much he wishes he didn’t. “This isn’t how this works. You need to talk to me.”

“You’ve already been in enough pain today. I don’t want to cause anymore,”

“Quit the bullshit. I’m better now. I’ll feel worse if you don’t tell me.”

“That’s not the way it works.”

“Um, yes, it is.”

“It’s not.”

“How would you know? I can already feel my leg hurting ten times more now that you won’t communicate with me.”

“You’re not in any more pain because of me,” he scoffs, trying to escape your grasp.

“Ow, my leg! My leg!” you feign a whimper. He cracks a small smile, your cheeks spreading as smoothly as the war paint that still dons his face.

Neteyam looks so beautiful when he smiles. It’s a special smile, reserved only for you; it drips of sticky honey, so sugary that sometimes you feel as if you could fall ill from its adoration. He’s soft as he looks at you, coy and all things delightful. The hands that once tried to flee your own, now reach for your wrists, petting the skin in a pattern that speaks a million languages at once. And yet, somehow, not one of those languages can truly resemble how much he loves you. He loves you a lot.

“Please,” you whisper, “tell me what’s wrong?”

He sighs, assenting to your pleas. With one final sweep over your face, he finally indulges you.

“I’m not happy that you took down those ships.”

“Well, duh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I know that, but I want to know why.”

“You weren’t careful.”

This causes a richer scoff to form at the back of your throat, a sound that makes his ears press against his braids. “I thought we agreed to take down the enemy at any and all costs?”

“I know, and we did—we did make that agreement. I just,” he groans, trying to find the right words. Neteyam never had the right words when it came to expressing himself. “I was scared.”

“Okay,” you reply softly, shuffling closer to him. “Why were you scared?”

“Why wouldn’t I be scared?” he answers, tone mimicking the same quiet tone you used. “You’re mine—my girl, and- and they almost took what’s mine away from me.”

“God, I just got so scared that something bad would happen to you. And when I saw you hurt, how badly you were in pain, and I couldn’t do anything about it I just…” his eyes are frantic, searching all across the hut for something—anything—to provide him an answer. His hands start to tremor in your hold. “I felt helpless and so stupid. I should’ve been tougher on you, or—I don’t know—had Lo’ak or even Kiri stay with you so you didn’t have to be alone. And it’s not that I don’t think you’re incapable or anything—” he excuses, causing you to smile lightly, “—but I don’t trust them. I don‘t trust them with you.”

Smile turning watery, you reach for his shoulder, soon deciding to hold his face instead. He leans into your palm yet again, seeking the warmth that can only emanate from your hands alone. It’s the only warmth that can rid him of any chill.

Neteyam kisses your palm, soon rolling your hand over in his, placing his lips on each knuckle as if it provides him comfort. And it does. It provides him more comfort than he could care to admit. Placing your head in the crook where his neck and shoulder meet, you place a kiss on his collarbone, lowering your lips to place another on his pec, right above his heart. The young man draws in a deep breath, holding you close to him, savoring each second, each touch. Skin against skin; heart against heart.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologize, your soft lips grazing his blue skin. He loves the feeling. “I just wanted to protect our people.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs against your forehead, a light kiss placed there. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t even yell,” you forgive, cheeks pillowing against his chest. When you lift yourself away from him, he tilts his head in confusion at your smirk. “Also, we both know Kiri would be awful on the battlefield.”

He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. “True. She can’t even shoot an arrow in a straight line.”

“Exactly! I don’t know what you were thinking when you said that. Lo’ak? Sure, whatever. But Kiri?”

“I know, I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as if his quietness will preserve this moment between you.

His eyes become velvet—smooth and warm—the longer he looks at you and it instantly makes you melt. His lips look saccharine, a buttery spread of a light smile decorating his face which is just the absolute cherry on top. If Eywa hadn’t taken you during battle, she sure as hell was going to take you now with how crazy Neteyam makes your heartbeat.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, his smile growing more and more with each expanse of skin he navigates. Dancing his fingertips over your jaw and across your cheekbones, he eventually cups your cheek and you just watch. If you breathe too hard, if you shift your weight, this moment could crumble. He’s looked at you like this many times before but it’s usually in the dark, under the bioluminescent blue and purple lights of the forest, where all you can see are the shadows of his face and the warmth of his tongue and the breeze of his breath. Now, you can see everything in pure, golden hues. The way his mouth relaxes, the way his eyes absorb all they can with each quick glance, the way the corner of his mouth tugs upwards unconsciously. You love it.

“May I kiss you?” he asks quietly, thumb swiping along a stripe on your cheek.

“Why do you ask now? You’ve done it many times before,” you wonder, eyes transfixed on the way his own mouth moves with each word he’s about to form.

He chuckles, a sweet, melodic sound, “Just wanted to make sure you’re still down even when the sun is out.”

This earns a loud laugh from you, a laugh that makes Neteyam’s heart squeeze and his lower stomach burn. He loves you. One day, he’ll say it.

Once your giggles have fizzled into a content sigh, you bite your lip lightly before you release it and it returns to its normal place. Neteyam follows the movement.

“I’m always down if it’s you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, breathy and lips plush.

“Yeah.”

With that, he seals the deal. His kiss is soft, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your mouth right before the initial contact. It makes you feel hot all over. He’s gentle—he always is at first—and he’s so, so kind. He pulls away briefly, returning not long after as if he needs to be connected to you or else he would suffer. In a way, he would.

Neteyam is sweet. He still tastes like the fruit you shared before the raid and also a little bit like blood—whether it’s from him or you, you don’t care; you’ll devour it desperately just like you want him to devour you. He traces that stripe on your cheek again, his new best friend, and follows it down the nape of your neck. His other hand trails up from the small of your back to the divot in between your shoulder blades. He uses his hand to pull you closer, seeking any contact from you that he can get.

Your hands are a barrier, shielding your chest from his, and in a way, it upsets you but also pleases you. Nobody knows what would happen if you could feel his chest pressed against yours at this moment—not even you know. Your hands glide across his chest, lighting scraping and molding against the fine muscle that hides under his smooth skin. When a lithe finger accidentally catches against a nipple, his mouth drops open pliantly, his tongue searching for yours.

“‘S scared they took my girl away from me,” he murmurs against your lips, his own following after yours after each word.

“Never,” you promise, kissing him firmly, one hand gripping his shoulder to ground yourself. All of this kissing was beginning to make you feel as if you could float away. “I’m yours. They could never take me or have me. You know that,”

“Mhm,” he hums, voice lilting towards the end as he presses his mouth to yours. It makes your back arch forward, seeking more of his skin, his touch.

His hands are growing desperate now. Neteyam knows he has to be gentle, avoiding the damaged skin on your back and remaining weary of the injuries on your rib and leg, but he so badly just wants to pull you close to him and never let go. He wants to hold you, to feel you, to be with you in every single way he can imagine so passionately. But he can’t. He will have to wait for another time.

You, on the other hand, may roam freely. Your hands travel down his chest, exploring the taught skin of his stomach. It seems he subconsciously flexes underneath your touch, something that is rather enticing. Reaching the plusher skin of his lower stomach, although there still isn’t much give, you trace the muscle gingerly, bordering right above the hem of his loincloth. The delicate touch of your fingers causes him to lightly moan into your mouth, a sound you gladly drink down just to feel its warmth in your stomach.

Neteyam pulls away suddenly, a loss you’re greatly upset about until he relocates his lips under your ear, traveling down your neck. He hums against the skin, tongue swiping against it as if he’s trying to taste as much of you as he can, as much as he’s allowed.

“You can’t touch me like that,” he says, using a hand to bring both of yours back toward his chest. You cradle his head instead, tracing a finger along his ear. It twitches.

“Why not?” you question, voice airy. Neteyam nearly preens at the sound, tail wild. “You seem to like it.”

“I do like it,” he insists, “I love it, even.”

“Then why can’t I touch you there?”

He places a wet, fervent kiss against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, a moan threatening to escape past your lips.

“Because,” another kiss, “You are not promised to me yet.”

“I just told you that I’m yours,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he nods, trailing his kisses back toward your jaw. “However, you’re still not mine.”

Oh.

“I could be yours. All you have to do is ask,” you say as if it’s not something he already knows. You hold his head in place, halting his journey upwards so you can whisper in his ear: “Ask me, Neteyam.”

His tail swishes excitedly, something that makes you smile. Great Mother, you could eat him up.

“No,” he responds, pulling away and facing you head-on. He has a lovesick smile on his face, a grin that nobody could wipe off as long as you’re around. “I want to do it right.”

“Yeah?” you counter. “How would you do it?”

“Well,” he hums, kissing your lips. “First, I’d get all of your favorite foods. All of those fruits you like, season everything all nice,” he begins to slowly kiss your cheeks, “and get it all ready just for you to eat.”

“What else?”

“Then,” his kisses travel towards your ear, “Once you’re full and comfortable, we’ll go for a walk.” He bites your ear lobe and you press yourself against him. “We’ll go to our favorite spots: we’ll look at those flowers you like, go to the river, maybe swim a little. I like the way your hair looks while wet, you look so pretty,” he sighs. “You listening?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Go on.”

“Then I’d bring you to our sacred tree, just so Eywa can see us and I can see you under her light. I want to see you when I ask you. I want to see you if you smile or cry or decide that I’m not the one, I don’t care, I just want to see you,” he smiles, no longer kissing you but nudging your nose with his.

“And if you say yes—Great Mother, I hope you say yes—I promise, I’ll treat you so well. I’ll hold you the way you ask to be held, kiss you in all of the places I already know you love to be kissed, and learn all of the new places I can’t reach yet too. I want to feel you, and see the way you react. I want you to feel me, too. I want you to see me, and I want to see you,” he whispers, voicing each wish.

You nod, slowly and then desperately. “I want to see you, too,” you promise. He smiles that big, toothy smile. “Tell me when you’ll ask me? I can’t wait for much longer. I need you.”

His eyelids grow heavy, skin heating underneath your palm. “I need you, too,” he gasps, leaning forward to kiss you again. “It’ll be soon, just want you to heal for now.”

“Yeah?” you smile. “Soon?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Soon.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x female reader #avatar #avatar: twow #avatar: the way of water #neteyam sully fluff #neteyam sully angst #neteyam sully x reader #atwow #atwow headcanons #atwow imagines #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x reader

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pumpkinpie59 · 3 months

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“the 2012 family isn’t abusive” and “the 2012 family all have toxic traits that can affect each other badly” are both takes that can coexist

i think out of all the tmnt shows (except maybe rise, but i could go back on that if i think about it for more than two seconds; this post isn’t about them tho), 2012 has the most dysfunctional family.

this is not a criticism tho. it’s an observation and it can lead to interesting storytelling.

splinter in 2012 suffers from ptsd and it affects how he teaches his children and how he views the world.

he’s been through a lot and was lead to believe he lost his first child.

so yes it’s not shocking that he’d make bad decisions as a parent.

he’s not a bad person by any means, but his attitude about strangers, enemies, and relationships are off. he shows favoritism towards leo, though that’s not his intention. he fails to give his other children the attention they need. etc etc

so it’s not that surprising that his children also gained flaws that affect each other negatively.

leo is dedicated to his training, which isn’t bad but it gave him an ego. he believes he’s the good example, that he’s better skilled than his brothers. he has good skills that make him the best choice as leader, but sometimes his ego and his authority make him downplay his brothers’ opinions and chastise their choices.

it’s mostly seen in his arguments with raphael and donatello. raphael is stubborn, but he values his family like leo does. their opinions on how to protect their family and do the right thing aren’t always on the right page, which frustrates them. raphael goes through growth that makes him a lot more patient with leonardo, but he still calls leo out when leo makes bad decisions, and leo often refuses to listen to him bc he’s the leader. he’s in charge. why should he listen? which is not what a leader should be and he needs to learn that over the course of the series (he,, rlly doesn’t but i digress).

as for donatello and leonardo. donatello is smart and leonardo knows that and ends up using that to his advantage. he puts a lot of pressure on donnie and overworks him. donatello is smart so he has to be the one to track things down, fix mutations, learn what is going wrong. and when donatello’s attempts go wrong, leonardo gets frustrated and orders donatello to just. do better. keep working on it. since donatello struggles with insecurities, this is just added to it and he is super hard on himself when he fails.

having so much pressure put on him by splinter certainly doesn’t help his attitude either.

is he hard on michelangelo? eh not rlly but mikey’s a nothing character so moving on

raphael very obviously has his temper. he’s probably the most criticized of the team so his faults are kinda obvious. he has the most growth in the show tho so i’m not gonna go into too much depth.

obviously his temper and habit to get violent when he’s angry affects his brothers negatively. tho he’s mostly physically violent with leonardo or michelangelo. with donatello they usually are more verbal ig? when raphael is rough with donatello, it’s usually playful. idk

also his temper affects his focus and skills so he’s often chastised by splinter, which comes across to him like leo is so much better and splinter likes him more.

donatello’s turn. this guy has his heart on his sleeve and ik i mention his insecurities constantly but it does affect him more than anything else. he’s insecure about being a mutant, he’s insecure about his weapon and fighting skills, he’s insecure about his feelings for april, he’s insecure about whether he’s smart enough, he’s insecure PERIOD. he has so much going on in that brain so ofc it’s gonna affect his brothers

he snaps at people all the time. he lets his insecurities affect the way he interacts with other people (see: casey jones).

even the pride he does have about his scientific accomplishments can be easily crushed when they’re ruined or criticized in some way.

he isolates very often and sometimes when he is confident it comes across as rude.

and when he acts out of concern for april, he goes about it wrong and ends up being creepy.

it doesn’t help that splinter hardly corrects any of his behavior. plus he doesn’t get the affirmation he needs.

as for michelangelo he’s a bad interpretation of someone with adhd— oh wait no that’s not what i’m trying to talk about hold on—

so michelangelo is playful and naïve and fails to take many things seriously, which frustrates his brothers a lot so it’s hard for them to take him seriously when he is being genuine.

and for karai, we already see how flawed and rebellious she is, and it rubs off on her brothers often, particularly leo.

this family is just a wreck but that’s why they’re so interesting to explore and see them grow. it’s why i wanted more from the series. their dynamics have positive parts as well and it’s nice seeing them talk through things. but the series sacrifices a lot of that for plots that don’t rlly matter tbh (most of season 5 <3)

they are not abusive at all but they are extremely flawed and that’s okay

#except for mikey what who said that #pumpkin stuff #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt splinter #tmnt karai

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gothic-thoughts · 2 months

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(Un)Trustworthy

(I've been obsessed with mythical creatures lately so imma write a few fics to get it out)

König x Black Fem Reader Angst

Mermaid!Reader, MeetUgly

CW: Racism to humans, standoffish/mean reader

TW: blood mention, kidnapping mention, human experiment, PTSD (elements ig)

Word Count: 1032 (give or take)

After his team returned to the base, the Colonel was informed that something strange had caught something strange in the enemy territory. He was intrigued but wasn’t fazed, assuming it was just another weapon or something. He followed the seemingly eager soldiers to the airplane hangar and once there, his eyes widened in shock at the sight of her; a dark blue-tailed mermaid on the floor.

“Heilige scheiße(holy shit)......”

She looks around at the humans around with panic, baring cat-like fangs as she hisses, causing all soldiers to jump at the sound. Most raise their guns at the mermaid, unsure and fearing what they’re facing. Colonel König, however, slowly approaches the creature. She narrows her eyes angrily, immediately recoiling from the masked man and causing him to stop in his tracks.

He reaches his hand out to her to show the creature he is not a threat but her eyes remain slit and full of distrust as she hisses at the large man before her. König remains still, his face is calm and there is no fear in his eyes as the soldiers continue to aim, unsure as to whether or not the creature is going to hurt their commanding officer. He slowly brings his hand closer to her to which she slaps his hand away.

“Do not touch me, landwalker.” She snaps, “This is your first and only warning.”

König is surprised as well but he does not show it, waving his hands to make the soldiers lower their weapons. He steps back and clears his throat.

“You can speak?”

“Do not be flattered, I have nothing nice to say to you. My silence is more than your kind deserves.”

“My kind?”

The mermaid squints, “Yes, your kind. The stories are true, you humans are nothing but barbaric and cruel.”

“Barbaric and cruel? Is this... your opinion of all humans?”

“When I meet an exception, I shall alert you. And unless you intend to kill me, landwalker, back away. I rather die than be tested on by two groups of humans in one lifetime.”

A murmur of chatter erupts among the soldiers. Colonel König holds up his hand to shut them up before turning his attention back to the creature.

“We have no intentions to harm or test you, mermaid.”

“I am not dense, human. I know what you want.”

“What is it that you think we want, mermaid?”

“The same thing the last group of humans did before you quote unquote ‘rescued’ me; my scales, my hair, my tears, and my blood.”

“You were tortured?”

She winces in pain as she pulls her tail to her scale-covered chest to show the small exposed patch of flesh where shiny blue scales used to be.

“For your kind's cruel, violent experiments, yes I was.” She scowled, “My scales are the equivalent of fingernails, besides the fact that they grow and shed from my tail, like hair. And these landwalkers manhandling me here only made it worse.”

He steps a little closer, kneeling, “May I?” He asked, reaching out for her tail.

“What game is this?

“May I... examine? Your tail that is, I swear I’ll be gentle.”

While eyeing him intensely, she slowly extends her tail with a pained groan allowing the Kortac Colonel to cautiously grab it, holding it up in both large hands. He begins to examine the exposed bloody patch of skin in front of him, grimacing under his mask at the 10 small spots where the scales were plucked from.

“When did this happen?”

“A few days ago but they haven't had the time to grow back yet. Especially since they were ripped off.”

Colonel König nods his head, “Let me take you to our infirmary. Our medics will bandage it and you can rest it while it heals properly."

“You... how can I trust this isn't some land-walker trick?”

“We are not all like the other humans you have encountered before. Some of us have morals and values, so please...”

“...who are you, giant?”

He chuckles at her observation. “My name is König.” He kneels to her and holds out a gloved hand, wanting to solidify her trust, “Will you trust me? At least enough to carry you to our medical bay?"

“You intrigue me, König.” She rests her hand in his, “I will... I am trusting you.”

König smiles behind his sniper hood and lifts her in his arms, holding her against him. As he stood up, she quickly wrapped her arms behind his neck with a gasp as she was lifted from the ground.

“I've got you.”

He starts heading for the exit of the hangar with the mermaid in his arms. As they head for the medical bay, the mermaid sees that the halls in the base are filled with humans; some of them are working, some of them are relaxing, and some of the are just doing their own thing. What the mermaid doesn’t realize, is that all those eyes are on her.

She hugs herself closer to his body, afraid and on guard as he walks past the people dressed like him. Colonel König senses her fear and immediately holds her even closer to him, wanting to make her feel protected against anything.

"They're not going to touch you."

"You're sure...?”

"It's a promise, mermaid, I’m not letting anyone close to you.”

“It's... I’m (Y/n)...”

He can’t help but chuckle again. "(Y/n), ja? That’s a beautiful name.”

“And I also wanted to apologize for insulting you.”

He chuckles, "It's okay, alright. If anything, I understand. We, uh, humans, aren’t the friendliest bunch most times."

“Oh, I'm painfully aware. But I'm apologizing to you.”

"Me? Me specifically?"

“Yes, just you... You’re the only human I’ve met to not view me for profit.”

He clears his throat as his cheeks warm up, "I can assure you that I do not see you for just profit. Of course, I can’t speak for everyone else but I see you as something more."

“More? More than profit?”

König nods. "More."

“Why?”

"I think... that might be a secret I'll hold for myself for now.” He winks, “Until we get to know each other better.”

#black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #konig call of duty #konig x black reader #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig cod #konig x you #cod konig

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akiitos · 1 year

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helloooo ! how are yoyoyoyou!?? i’ve read some of your posts and i simply love your writing ! i don’t know if you’ve done it before but i wanted to know if you could do rui , toya , akito , ena with a s/o that plays sports? like basketball !! you can only do one of them if you’d like ! <3 ( gn reader )

a/n: hi anon, thank you for asking !! i'm good, and also another thank you for the compliment! please enjoy, anon!

rui, toya, akito, and ena x gn!reader that plays sports

@ ena shinonome

you like sports? cool. she may use you as drawing references ahha...

she invites mizuki to your games, so they can also cheer you on

she probably boos the enemy team

defo one that makes those huge signs and holds it up

your #1 supporter LITERALLY

@ rui kamishiro

ok but i think he should play basketball

anyways, he's sort of like ena- except he doesn't make a poster, he makes a mini robot that cheers you on alongside him

pls if you're stressed out because of an upcoming game? he'll be there for you to reassure you

he can help you warm up too, if you want- just pass him the ball and stuff ig!!!!

@ toya aoyagi

he may not be that into sports- but he'll still be there to watch every single one of your games.

after every game of yours, he brings you a drink and a snack for you

HE'S SO SUPPORTIVE KJAWDLA:s'

if you're stressed out, he'll be there with you and stay with you until you feel better

@ akito shinonome

i feel like he's pretty sporty so of course he'll go to all your games- that is if he has the time to.

he's probably one of those people that cheer so loud for you

"GO [name]!!! YES!!!! BEAT THEIR ASSSSSE-"

he can help you warm up for practice, just ask :)

after games, he surprises you with your favorite snack

#akiitos posts #proseka x reader #toya aoyagi x reader #prosekai x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #ena shinonome x reader #akito shinonome x reader #project sekai x reader #prsk x reader #project sekai

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shadow-ray4 · 2 months

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Okay, I've been scrolling through the Rise Angst I have saved on TikTok and all the "what if the Krang spike killed Raph?" kind of stuff, and had an idea.

(Not an actual fic thing, just sort of an in-depth headcanon ig?? Or like an imagine sort of thing? Idk)

Tw: Raph dies, Mikey dies, Donnie dies, probably pretty graphic descriptions of zombification

So, imagine Raph actually died from the spike thing, like it impaled all the way through his chest, blood and plastron shards all over, probably some falling on Leo too just for good measure y'know.

Then, he gets dragged back to the lair in Raph's Donnie Pod TM having a full-blown panic attack just like in the movie, but now he's covered in his brother's blood and has to tell everyone that Raph is dead.

Like, bro would be 10x more pissed at poor Casey, Casey's trying to come to terms with the fact that one of the turtles died probably years before he did in Casey's future(partially insinuating that Casey's involvement made this timeline worse), everyone else is freaking out over the fact that Raph died period, and now, instead of his impulsive manhunt being to find and save Raph, Leo's out for blood and vengeance any way he can get it.

He and the team go on to Metro Tower, get split up, Casey starts lecturing him, but instead of taking the character development and learning any sort of lesson from it, he starts yelling back, and the whole thing turns into a massive screaming match because they're both trying to blame the other for what's going on, but they also both can't help but blame themselves more than anything.

After a while, Donnie's transmission asking where the hell they are comes in and they agree to accept the Krang as a common enemy for now.

They all meet up in Metro Tower, and before they spot each other Donnie uses his tracker to try and find Leo

He ends up seeing that Raph is almost directly on top of them and immediately points this out to the group, saying something along the lines of "Hey Leo, I thought you said Raph died in the Foot base..." Leo would respond with a glare: "Yea, he did, why?" And Donnie goes "Then why does my tracker say he's here????"

They all start looking around in a panic until they see the giant cocoon thing dangling from the ceiling. It falls down and cracks open, revealing Raph's bloody corpse slowly morphing into a Krang Zombie.

Out of the 6 living people there (April, Splinter, Mikey, Donnie, Leo, and Casey Jr), at least 3 of them immediately start throwing up at the sight of Krangified Corpse Raph (looks basically the same as OG Krangified Raph except with a giant bleeding hole in his chest maybe with some organs showing and blood dripping from his mouth) and the scene continues as canon with Krang Raph taking the key and the rest of the gang running and dragging each other away.

The Technodrome comes through the portal, and this time, Leo's inspiring speech is more of a half- baked denial-fueled desperate attempt at convincing his remaining family (and himself) that there's still a chance for everything to be okay (especially since none of them have gotten any chance to process or grieve Raph's death whatsoever).

They come up with their plan, Mikey and Donnie do their thing trying to fly the Technodrome, and Leo ends up fighting Raph and it's just so absolutely horrifying for him because imagine watching your oldest brother literally die trying to save you, then watching that same brother's corpse essentially mutated into the thing that killed him, and then having to fight his mutated corpse. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping him from hyperventilating and passing out.

He spends most of the fight desperately trying not to get killed while sobbing and pleading with his brother who very much cannot hear him. Eventually (at some point after Mikey and Donnie get dragged out of the control room, where in canon Leo would be giving his whole apology speech), Raph attacks attacks Leo, who is on the floor backed into a wall, and Leo picks up his sword, screws his eyes shut, and swings as hard as he can. Raph's head falls into his lap, the rest of Raph's body falls off the platform, and the battle is technically won (though it really doesn't feel like it).

Krang Prime is incredibly smug about this development, and it looks like all hope is finally lost. Just then, Raph's ninpo projection shows up (bc they need to get their powers back somehow), shocking literally everyone (himself included). The other brothers are flooded with relief that Raph is alive (he's not. He's still dead, the ninpo projection is legit just his ghost, but they're all in denial so we'll let them have this), and they get their ninpo back through the power of family and love

They decide not to talk about Leo killing Raph's corpse right now because there are infinitely bigger fish to fry and they'll have plenty of time to talk about it after everything else (spoiler alert: they won't)

They do the whole midair fight with the Krang, Raph jumps Mikey and Donnie to the ground ("Don't worry! This is not a hug! It's a rescue!!") except this time when his projection breaks, there no real Raph inside it, so it's just a bunch of disintegrating red particles.

Leo goes through the portal, and Mikey and Donnie don't have enough energy to survive getting him back. Leo exits the portal so happy and relieved to see at least two of his brothers left, tackling them into a bear hug almost immediately, only to notice that they're cracking and flaking apart. He screams and cries and begs them not to leave but there's nothing he can do to save them now. They fall apart in his arms.

April, Splinter, and Casey Jr pick him up in a car that they definitely didn't steal, and Leo has to break the news that he's the only turtle left to save.

Splinter later tries to get Leo to learn meditation to talk to his brothers again, but he's so convinced that they'd hate him that he refuses to even try.

They all watch over him as ghosts, and he feels their presence, but Leo assumes that it's judgement, when they really just miss him and wish he would talk to them

#tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt movie #fun little idea I had #angst #heavy angst #seriously SO MUCH ANGST #dead dove do not eat #GASP! an original post?

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bunnyloaves · 4 months

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thinking about hickey n crozier hours

the thing is, francis made a very convenient enemy out of hickey. Like here is a guy who is not really liked, kinda disliked let's be real but then you made a martyr/victim/scapegoat out of him, and that my dudes is a very convenient leader for a mutiny. You’ve made for yourself a beaten down figure who will then usurp the titan, very convenient. Like lets be real i don’t think the other crewmen particularly liked hickey, but by singling him out, francis only managed to exacerbate the class/social strata divides among all of them. And i think thats pretty neat, how in his worse moments francis is vv explicitly like the distant captain dishing out arbitrary corporal punishments to presumptuous people, and he’s all that before he takes on the team dad, being so deeply responsible for every single man’s well being, loving his men more than god loves them kind of mindset.

and by god did he love those cold boys, like it's pretty sweet how he takes on a fatherly role at the end of it. not leaving a single man behind, letting them carry signifiers of their own home/humanity/britishness even though at the time it would be unnecessary baggage (but they’ve already shed so much of their constructs/mores/conventions that asking them to shed those signifiers of identity would be heartbreaking) and he literally does love them more than god does and that love is francis’ own undoing (love that we’re hammering in the god/father themes in here). on a similar thread the fact that francis is generally a source of absolution/forgiveness for the other characters (ie. hartnell with the whole you may go rest with your brother, he kinda takes on this permissor/grantor role which imo makes him more nebulous than he really is. like in the midst of his own present existence, he’s already nebulized and mythologized to take on the “mute/reservoir of all histories/receptacle of grief, of names, of everyone else’s memory” role he takes later on). another bit of ‘forgiveness’ is the fact that he feels like he can forgive the crewmen of their crimes/animosity/their mutiny (since he’s the one that put them up to it in the first place, but it also speaks to his self-sacrificing/effacing nature (ie. that he’d take on the shame of organising a mutiny against sir john/and leaving his own post if it meant that he’d be able to seek rescue for the men)).

ok back to feeling like he can forgive the crew for the crimes and offer them absolution, like that is so O____O to me, like hello what makes you think that ur the one meant to offer forgiveness and absolution, does he not deem himself worthy of blame either in that he can forgive others but still carries the guilt/baggage of bringing them all here within himself. And that’s what i find so interesting about hickey, is that he sees through it and challenges him about it all, like they both bring out the intrinsic worst out of each other and its great imo. like francis can forgive every other man of the crew for their cannibalism, for their mutiny (is vv willing to be the prodigal son's father with the mutineers, in that they leave a stock/cache for them once they return and its a stock meant as an offering of peace and goodwill) but i love the fact that despite this broad (and imo abstract) sense of forgiveness (to everyone else), he is just so weary and unforgiving and critical of hickey (like yass girl u are the least special girl out of all of them, you are so delulu rn)

tl;dr: like what i think is so neat about them, is that you can posit francis as this father/god/arbitrator among them and hickey is just like the one exception to that man’s mercy and sympathies, like hickey is distinctly treated with more disdain and cruelty than everyone else (rightfully so, he's a sleazy guy) but i think he just wants to be in someone else’s good graces for once (in the sense of nobody ever wanted anything out of him, or ig not necessarily good graces and wanting dad’s m&ms but more of him wanting to be equals with something greater than measly human, ie. bear, or at least he thinks he's par with someone who is great/has status (which he throughly lacked), ie. captain)

#the terror #terrorposting #hickeycrozier hours #i dont like even think of them in that way #like they are just textually intertwined TO ME and im baffled at how little content there is about them #like ok a good portion of its appeal is its whole sense of enmity bUT thats like brainrot free real estate #squeaks into the void

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inherstars · 4 months

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Oh hey, I'm making my semi-annual attempt to get back into Tumblr, because i loathe literally every other social media platform. Except Instagram, IG hasn't spurned me yet.

Anyway, this is just a dump of some story notes I worked on this morning, for no other reason than I felt like needed to get them down. I'm almost certainly not going to write it, but if I did it would take place in a very loosely structured universe I created for a, uh, niche interest community I belong to, even more loosely based on "Gears of War" (because I wanted people to be able to read it without having to also know what the fuck "Gears of War" was about.

The story is set in the same universe as Mad-World, a Gears-of-War-like post-apocalyptic militarized wasteland where humanity is fighting some kind of aggressive, largely underground alien enemy (that may or may not be sentient / weaponized? I don’t remember.)

The characters are a squad of soldiers tasked with setting demolition charges at known burrow openings, closing them up so that other teams can more safely move into place to set up camps, hunt for supplies, etc. Their most recent Munitions Placement member recently transferred out, and they’ve just been assigned a new one.

The team is led by Sgt. James Candle. Gentle giant, quiet but friendly, well respected. Despite the fact that he looks like he could crush your skull in one hand, he has zero interest in being any brand of hard ass.

The newest squadmate shares a last name with one of the existing members (no relation), and so Candle asks if she has a nickname they can use instead, so he doesn’t have to go by “Thing One and Thing Two”. She says her first name is Daisy, and he agrees to go with that.

Daisy is pleasant, cheerful and upbeat, a stark contrast to the rest of the team. It’s clear, initially, they have no idea what to make of her, and she’s the square peg among them. Candle is half-certain she’ll end up getting reassigned at some point, particularly if the rest of the squad doesn’t gel with her, but she’s good company and he commits to giving her a fair shake.

Their first mission out is to an old advanced care / retirement home, now largely rubble. The APC parks at a safe distance and Daisy goes in to set the charges while the others do more remote, digital scanning of the area for “soft spots” to watch out for, seismic activity, or available resources for future extraction teams. Candle gets on the radio and walks a distance from the APC, keeping ears and eyes on everything.

But Daisy is uncharacteristically quiet, even and especially for Munitions, and Candle has a hard time getting her to update him as to where she is and what she’s doing. Even when she does respond, her answers are brief -- not rude, but clearly distracted. On one hand, he doesn’t want to get off on a bad foot by dressing her down or trying to throw his weight around unnecessarily -- maybe this is how she works. She is, after all, carrying a lot of explosives. But he still needs her to communicate, for all their sakes.

Just before he can pull rank on her she announces that the charges are set and that she’s on her way out. She crawls back out through the rubble and Candle goes to meet her halfway, telling the others to pull to a safe distance and they’ll meet them there for detonation. He doesn’t want to “have words” with her in front of her new squadmates this soon.

Right away he can tell something is off about her. She’s no longer smiling, upbeat. She’s withdrawn and quiet, answering all his questions so precisely as to seem almost scripted. Respectful, not rude or impolite, but with an economy of words and energy. He changes technique and asks if she’s alright, she seems different. She agrees she’s fine, it just takes a lot out of her. He tells her that he needs her to communicate with him when she’s working, he needs to know where she is at all times in case something happens.

This seems to bring her out of her stupor a little, she apologizes and agrees that she’ll try harder to keep in touch with him.

He asks if she’s sure she’s cut out for this work, that if it’s not a good fit maybe she can be reassigned. She says that she’s been doing this almost exclusively since she signed up. If he doesn’t feel she’s doing her job well he can request she be transferred. He cuts her off gently and says he has faith she can do the job well, just wants to make sure she’ll enjoy it.

“Enjoy it, sir?”

“Right. Poor choice of words.”

They head back together. Shit gets blowed up real good, they all go home.

Although Daisy hangs around with them a little bit for dinner in the mess, she declines to join them for a drink. She’s still out of sorts. Excuses herself for the evening. After she’s gone, the others express reservations about her and her behavior. They don’t seem to like her either happy or sad. Candle says he’ll take it under advisement, but doesn’t want to make any judgments after just one mission.

The next mission is at an even larger facility, an old single-story shopping mall. Daisy is back in good spirits, though Candle decides to keep a closer eye on her.

The entrances are all blocked and barricaded. They briefly discuss blasting a hole, but Daisy tells them that it could destabilize the structure, and it might attract unwanted attention before they’re ready for it. She has them pull the APC near to the building, near the roofline, and opts to rappel down through one of the ceiling skylights.

They park a distance away and Candle once again gets on the radio while the others do their surveillance.

“Talk to me, Dais.”

Silence.

“Private.”

“I’m here, sir. Sorry. I’m just… I had to get my lights going. The interior is in pretty rough shape.”

Her voice is quiet, strained. Fearful but strangely determined.

“Talk me through what you’re doing, where you are.”

“I’m… I don’t know, all the stores sort of look the same. Trying to find a way around to the burrow hole.”

More silence. He doesn’t want to be impatient with her. He can hear her movement, so he knows she has the mic open to communicate. She’s not being purposefully difficult, she’s trying to comply. He gentles his tone.

“Tell me what you see.”

A moment of quiet, then, “Corpses. Just… lots and lots of bodies everywhere. Mostly bones, now.” Even more softly, “So many bones.”

Candle looks back at the APC, walks a little further.

“Is that what it usually looks like?”

“Yeah. It’s not just the people that were killed when the hole opened up. These things, they sort of… they’re like gophers. They push everything along the tunnels and then… up and out of their way, through the hole. I can’t imagine what it must look like when they finally break through. Like a… like an eruption of bodies. It’s got to be awful.”

Her voice is rough, she’s getting in her own head. He’s quiet, thinking about that, about what she must see every day: bodies upon bodies, Moms and children and grandparents in various states of decay. Piles of expended humanity rotting slowly back to bone. No wonder she lost her happy disposition.

“So what do you normally do when you’re out here,” he asks her. “How do you keep it together, when you don’t have your Sergeant yammering in your ear?”

“Not really much of anything. I just try to get the job done. Get in and out as fast as I can. I don’t like to think about what I’m seeing, too much, or it… you know, it comes back to you afterwards. Tunnel vision helps.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sir?”

“Back when I used to, uh… well, when my old squad used to have moments of… let’s say nerves, I had them sing a song. Just something simple to keep their mind off of whatever they were afraid of. Maybe you can try that out.”

“Uh. Not much of a singer, sir. Truth be told, I’d be hard pressed to come up with a song that isn’t wildly inappropriate to this specific situation.”

“Well, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Gotta lighten the mood, take yourself out of the moment.” He clears his throat. “Here, I’ll start…uh…”

“...wait, what?”

And he begins singing to her, exactly as awkwardly and terribly as one would imagine he would sing.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I’m half crazy all for the love of you. It won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a carriage. But you’ll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.”

That was awful, and he’s pretty pleased with himself. “How was that?”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, sir, but we just met.”

He laughs out loud, drawing the attention of the rest of the squad looking on strangely from the APC.

“Hey, it’s been a while.”

“Since you last sang, or since you put the moves on a woman on a bike?”

He laughs again. “Take your pick.”

“Hang on, I’m nearly… OK. There. Charges set.”

“Good job.” He starts back to the APC, gesturing to the others to wrap it up. “Head straight back, we’re coming to meet you now. I expect to hear you singing, Private.”

They pick her up as she comes back down from the roof. At a distance they park again and the soldiers position themselves with sniper rifles to pick off anything that might come out, while Candle and Daisy watch from the top hatch of the APC.

“They don’t have to worry,” she says softly as the dust cloud spreads and rolls across the barren landscape. “There was nothing left alive in there.”

During later conversations, Candle gives her a bracelet -- brightly colored plastic beads on an elastic string. Tells her it’s for luck, or maybe just to help keep her mind off things. She’s bewildered but charmed.

“Where did you even get this?”

“What do you mean? I made it.”

“You made this?”

“Don’t let the menacing good looks fool you. I can also produce gallery-quality macaroni art, but macaroni is in pretty short supply these days. They don’t like you gluing it to things.”

“Does this mean I’ve heard the last of your serenading?”

“Look, you don’t have to sound happy about that.”

He reveals to her, at some point, that his name was originally James Chandler, and despite the look of him he was not born a soldier. Much to his father’s dismay, he actually took after his mother and wanted nothing more than to be a teacher. He was teaching Kindergarten during the first attacks, when the war first began, and lost the entirety of his class when the school was brought down on top of them. He was pulled from the rubble, unconscious. They hadn’t been able to identify him until he emerged from a coma some days later.

His school ID had been almost destroyed when he was rescued, the last name reduced from CHANDLER to J. C*ANDLE*, and so that’s what they’d listed on his chart. When he learned about the fate of his class, he opted to keep that as his name, and enlisted as soon as he was medically cleared."

#story notes

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