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everythingne · 5 months

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DRUNK WALK HOME - MV1

Your relationship with your teammate is non-existent at best. Since you've joined Red Bull, a second driver thrown in last second, Max has kept a wide berth. He's more interested in himself... well, until he spots your ex-boyfriend getting a bit too rough with your tipsy self at a bar in Monaco.

max verstappen x racer!fem!reader (can be viewed romantic or platonic)

warnings/notes: drunkenness, physical violence, implied attempted assault, implied drink spiking, sort of 'dark' fiction, hurt/comfort (guys i can write angst but we need happy endings ok?), reader's looks are not described/image used in the header is not to describe the reader, the only descriptor are heels, dress, and she/her pronouns used for the reader,

series link (coming soon!)

Max typically steered clear of you. Which was fine, you were a rookie driver, his second, only on Red Bull because an injury that took Checo out for the season and bumped you up from a reserve driver. You mostly stuck by yourself, doing your training alone, racing alone, eating alone... and such. The only time you and Max really spoke was during press, you didn't mind, but it was kinda clear to everyone that Max Verstappen did not like you. For whatever reason.

You assumed it was because he felt partly responsible for Checo's injury, due to also being involved with the accident. So he kept a wide berth because you reminded him of that mistake.

What you didn't know was he ignored you because he liked you way too much, and couldn't risk hurting both of your careers for something as trivial as his feelings. So, he kept his distance, watched from afar and kept tabs on you. Almost like a stalker, Charles had joked to him.

He didn't mind being considered a stalker if it meant keeping you safe.

There was one thing you had told Max, or more so he had been involved in the conversation when you had told Christian. The one deeper thing he knew about you was your ex boyfriend was nothing but a waste of fucking time. He had just been manipulative, urged you into doing a lot of things, and you had been telling Christian about it because someone had seen him at the paddocks. Max had cataloged his name--Isaiah Martelack, and then when he got home that night curiosity killed the cat.

Ten articles and a beer bottle later he told himself, and whatever ghosts might be floating around his apartment, that he'd kill the man. Standing outside this club now, months and months later, with Charles lazily waving goodbye to someone Max didn't recognize... Max realizes he might just have the opportunity.

You'd been very drunk, but promised Max you were going to go home with Daniel. Which was fine, because Daniel was a fucking saint and Max trusted even the absolutely sloshed group that was Lando, Oscar, Logan and Daniel with you. However, Daniel was rubbing a sick Logan's back and yelling for Lando to stop trying to tackle Oscar, who was trying to call their rideshare, and you were not there. Not with the group you had been with only three or so minutes prior.

"Where's hotshot?" Max turns to Charles, the nickname they'd come up with you for in public spaces flowing out without second thought. Charles perks up, turns in a full circle and then shrugs.

"Ask Danny?" Charles peeks around the building, seeing nothing down the front side of the building or in the front parking lot. But that was all he scanned.

"Danny's hands are full enough with the McLaren drivers at the moment." Max laughs under his breath, looking over his shoulder, down the sort of shadier side of the building. It was dark around that side, Charles telling everyone to try and steer clear of it because they might get mugged if they go in that side lot. Max hadn't thought much about it after that, but something in the back of his head was nagging him to look a bit further.

He's happy he remembered you'd worn those little black heels with the silver bow on the front, because he sees one laying there just inside the shadows of the buildings alley. The ankle clasp snapped off and laying nearby, like there had been some sort of struggle. He pauses, holding up a hand as Charles calls for Danny's attention. Charles keeps shouting as Max steps into the shadows to peek, and as his eyes adjust he feels ice in his veins as his arms thrumn with energy. Your ex--stupid fucking Isaiah, has you pinned against the back wall. Max knows you'd be able to fight back in any usual circumstances, but something in the way your eyes flutter open and closed and you try to weakly cry out for help against the mans large hand covering most of your face tells Max there's more wrong than just what he can see.

"Hey!" Is all he can think to shout. Isaiah turns, Max running up, before just clocking the fucking guy in the jaw as hard as he can. Charles shouts behind him, someone else screaming his name as he falls with Isaiah to the ground. He doesn't really count how many times he pummels the guys face into the concrete until it takes Charles, Daniel, Logan, and Lando to pull him back to his feet. Both of Charles' hands pressing Max's chest until Max seems to come back to his sanity after that blip out of his consciousness. The first thing he feels is intense pain in his knuckles, but the first thing he does is look for you.

Oscar's kneeling with you against the wall, a hand under your bloodied jaw as you try and explain, but even the most sober person in the room fails to understand you.

"What the fuck, man!" Isaiah shouts, stumbling back to his feet and wiping at his bloody and broken face. It was almost sort of... therapeutic to see it.

"You ever fucking touch her again and I'll take your hands clean off your body." Max steps forward, jabbing a finger right in Isaiah's chest, making both Charles and Daniel move to push him back.

"Max, Max." Charles pushes Max back against the wall, not like he was trying to be aggressive but more so that he was trying to diffuse the situation.

"Who the hell are you?" Isaiah wipes at his nose and Max takes a second to look around. About an arms length away, a clearly heavily intoxicated Isaiah sways, Lando and Daniel hovering near him, Logan hangs off to the side by the front of the building--waving someone over. Oscar is to Max's right, whispering softly and kneeling with you as he tries to calm you down. Charles holds Max by one hand to his chest, looking over the group.

Max takes a slow breath, shakes out his hands, wipes his own bleeding nose and then turns to where you're curled on the ground. He walks over, Oscar looking up and standing as Max approaches.

"She's... really out of it." Oscar hums, not expecting you to do much of anything, but you stand on shaking legs and lean into Max's arm that flies up to catch you. Oscar brings a hand up to your other arm, watching as you lift a shaking hand to wipe some blood off Max's face.

"You.." your voice is small, weak, and swaying, and Max adjusts so he can hold you against him to keep you upright.

"Relax, okay?" Max shuffles in your hold, before tossing his jacket over your shoulders, trying to hide the red marks he can see forming on your arms and neck, "Take this and... just stay by my side."

"Hey, cars are here to go back to the hotel." Logan calls, sporting a water bottle and four or five phones in his hand, "y'all ready to go, or?"

"What about this fucker?" Lando asks, eyeing Isaiah. Daniel's arms cross firm over his chest and he nods his head over to Max with a small smile.

"I think Mad Max there did enough damage for this guy to understand he should keep away."

"Oh, and--" Charles turns, leaning down to pick up your heel and handing it to Oscar, who helps you try and put it on while Max keeps your stable.

"He should know better than to mess with the friends of the... what do they call me? Prince of Monaco or whatever?" Theres a sly grin that ripples across Charles face and a look of horror dons Isaiah's as he realizes just who he'd been fucking with. When he goes to run, Lando chases him out with a loud drunk cackle as you're escorted to a waiting car.

You know, loosely, that you've ended up in the back of some car, situated between Max and Charles who speak in hushed tones. Your head is swimming, a headache thrumming under the swirling world and sick feeling in your body. The jacket someone had laid over your shoulders providing both heat to your trembling body but also, coverage and protection. The night was pieced together, a mess of shots, dancing, and laughter that had blurred together the longer you had been in that stuffy Monaco club.

That one shot had been the downfall, you'd known it had tasted off but assumed the best. And then Isaiah had shown up, and you should've known from that moment everything was over. You should've told Max to wait with you, instead of waiting for Daniel to get Logan out of the club. Oscar was way too preoccupied trying to keep Lando from being an idiot to notice you get grabbed, of no fault of his own, and Lando was too drunk to know what was happening in general.

And the next thing you can remember seeing, as you recount the nights events to try and keep yourself from losing your stomach in the back of this very nice car, is Max. The way he'd thrown Isaiah down and followed him, each collision of his fist to Isaiah's face, and the way the man beneath him struggled to fight back. The things he had said, the way he looked was nothing like the Max you had grown accustomed to. He wasn't cold and reserved, silent, just a phantom you had grown used to having behind you. No, Max was fiery, loud and violent. No longer was he a passive nod, he was a fist being jammed into teeth with intent to break something, intent to maim the man who'd even just tried to hurt you.

"You alright?" Max asks, and you realize you've been staring. Swallowing, you look down at your lap, holding your shattered phone and broken purse in your hands as you try to think of what to say.

"Y'didn't hav'ta do that." Your words come out more sloshed together than you had hoped, and Max sighs, his own nose scabbed over a while back, you can tell from the darkness of the blood around it.

"No one gets to treat you like that, yeah?" Max says, leaning down to pull the jacket further over you to make sure you're kept safe within it, "No one."

"Christian's g'nna be mad at'ya." You lean into his chest as he sits back, and though he's still for long enough for you to almost pull back, his arms wrapping around you a second later makes you stay.

"He can be mad all he wants, I don't regret pummeling that guys face in." Max shrugs and you hear Charles laugh softly, the car pulling to a stop. The world spins as Max and Charles get you out of the car, into the hotel, and then it's Max who brings you into his room. Charles goes off to get some rest, just leaving you and Max alone. Max says it's because your room is right next to his, so he can just take you next door when you get sleepy. So, you end up on the couch in Max's room with his duvet wrapped around you like a burrito while scouring the room service menu with a water bottle in hand.

"See anything good?" Max asks, emerging from the bathroom in an arguably comfier outfit, you hum setting it down and drinking about half the bottle in one go. The water was helping, or it was placebo as the actual things in your system were finishing up their course. But even though a simple thing of chicken tenders and fries sounds great, you still feel sick enough, you can't imagine stomaching anything.

So you complain, "They have boring food."

"It's a hotel. I wasn't expecting caviar or something." He sits next to you, taking the menu off the coffee table and reading over it, "we can just get junk. I think Christian will understand."

You're quiet for a few seconds, before you poke Max's leg with your foot, "You didn't have to do that, Max. The whole thing with Isaiah."

"If I didn't do that, how far would he have gone?" Max's response is blunt and there's no answer you want to tell him. His hands tighten around the menu before he tosses it down, his hands almost fidgety.

You need to fill the silence, so you say, "You could've just shouted."

"And let him keep his hands on you? God, forget it. Y/n, you should've told me about him, I would've kept a closer eye on you while we were leaving."

"Why would I have told you," You immediately counter, brushing some hair out of your face as you turn to Max and almost curl into the blankets for safety, "it's not like we even talk outside of press."

"I know but..." Max struggles to find the words, you can see it in the way his mouth opens, closes, and then finally he sighs and adjusts the way he's sitting, "you're still my teammate, and... I know you might not really believe me but I'm gonna be here for you. Whenever you're ready to rely on me, I'll be there."

You don't really know what to say, just watching him for a moment before you whisper, "what if I want to rely on you now?"

"Then, let me say this," Max leans forward, brushing a few hairs off your face and adjusting the blanket as he speaks in such a soft tone you're surprised it comes from him, "No one's gonna hurt you as long as I'm here. I promise you that."

There's almost a sort of... pain that fills you. The genuine feeling of his tone, and you shimmy out of the blankets partly as you murmur in your still tipsy haze, "Can I have a hug?"

"Oh, sweetheart... come here," his arms extend and in moments you feel him cradle you to his chest as you hide there, still sickly, still exhausted, still shaking. You close your eyes against his shirt and sigh heavily. Neither of you speak for a while, after Max orders a bunch of random items and two teas from the room service. You know you're crying, even as you try and hold yourself together. Even if you hadn't been in your right mind when everything had happened, it still shook you to your core. Without having to be told, Max rubs along your shoulders, eyes closed as he lets you bury your head against his chest and sob. He doesn't move until you calm down enough for him to feel comfortable gently setting you aside to get the room service left in the hall. When he comes back, he plops next to you on the couch and hands you a plate of shitty hotel food. And as Max plays some videos on his phone for the both of you to watch, you feel the drinks slowly wean off as you sip on the tea, head buried against Max's shoulder as you blink at whatever stupid tik tok has him making a weird face at his screen.

You're not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake up laying on Max's couch, head in his lap as two voices speak above you.

"She's alright, though?" Christian's voice speaks and you feel someones hand running through your hair by its roots, coming back to rest warmly against the back of your neck.

"A bit shaken, but it's y/n, she'll be fine." Max's voice is soft. Christian sighs and shakes his head with a soft chuckle, the sound of a cup being set down as someone gets up off the other side of the couch. Max, who you've been laying upon for a while now, shifting and chuckling softly.

"You've been wrapped tight around her finger, huh?" Christian's voice chimes a bit farther away now.

"Yeah. Just a bit." Max's hand moves, tucking hair behind your ear as he plays with the ends of each strand in a small little pattern, "She's not a bad one to get caught by though."

#f1 #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 au

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bookstantrash · 3 days

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A/N: And I am back in my "Nessian with RED (TV) fic titles" agenda. They are just so RED coded and I had been dying to write something related to this album it is one of my fav albums of TS tbf.

This one shot is more Cassian centric, and it is also a type of fanfic I had been meaning to write for the longest times. I just feel like the fandom overall forgets that Cassian has a lot of trauma and insecurities, and I wish we saw more of that.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

Nightmares were not unusual to Cassian. He had them for as long as he could remember.

He had them when he was a mere child living on the outskirts of Windhaven, blowing on his hands to try and keep himself warm.

Had them when he was a young warrior, taking part in the Blood Rite, fighting his way to find his brothers alive.

Had them when he took part in the First War and saw deaths far more gruesome than what he had experienced at the Blood Rite.

Had them pile up after each war, each battle he took part in. Dreamt about his soldiers dying, about having to give their families the news and be met with sadness, anger and resentment. That they were gone and would never return. That while they had died he, a mere bastard born nobody, an orphan, had not.

He grew used to nightmares. Usually he would wake up with silent tears and a sense of regret and failure over his heart, spending the rest of the night awake, going over reports. Those were the good nights.

And on those rare times when his mind was particularly evil and wanted to punish him deeply, on those nights he would wake up with his heart racing, the urge to throw up taking him out of his bed to leave him retching over the toilet, the need to scream at anyone and everyone consuming him. To scream in anger and despair. Those were the bad nights, the ones who made him go to the training ring and rip the punching bags, made him stay there until the sun was rising and he would pass out with tiredness, no dreams, good or bad appearing for him.

He was so used to his nightmares that he knew what to expect, knew how to recognise when it would be a bad or good night.

And then he met Nesta and his nightmares changed.

Now he dreamt of his failures with her. Not being able to stop her from being thrown into the Cauldron, not protecting her from Hybern during the War, not helping her heal sooner after the war, letting her be kidnapped again and thrown in the Blood Rite.

Nothing could have prepared him for those nightmares, nightmares that got worse after they finally got together.

Because finally being able to be with the love of his life, his Nesta, his wife and mate… that made him incredibly afraid. Afraid that the happiness he had never felt before would be stolen from him, leaving him empty, a sad and lonely youngling in the bitter snow all over again.

The first time Cassian had a nightmare after he and Nesta had wed, he had woken up in a cold sweat, heart beating so loudly on his ears that for a second he thought he was hearing the Illyrian war drums. He had dreamt of the night she had been Made, of dragging himself over the cold floor of Hybern’s throne room, the pain of his shredded and bloody wings almost non-existent at the face of Nesta’s despair. At her screams of rage as she was dragged under the cold dark waters of the Cauldron.

He had only calmed down when he realised Nesta was safely sleeping beside him, arms around him tightening and her sleepily mumbling at him.

“Where are you going?”

Cassian had considered untangling himself from his wife’s warm embrace and going over some leftover documents, silently keeping watch over her. But one look at her sleeping face had his resolve weakening.

“Nowhere, Nes” he had settled beside her, dropping a kiss on her forehead “Go back to sleep”

Whenever Cassian had a nightmare, he would try his best to not wake up Nesta. He did not want to bother her with his worries and fears. And somehow the Mother must have taken pity on him, because he was scarcely having any bad nights since they'd gotten married. Sure, he still had nightmares, but those made him want to rip his own heart out had stopped.

He took that as a small blessing. He would take the good nights over no dreams if that meant that the unbearable nightmares would be kept at bay.

However, Nesta was not oblivious that something preyed on her husband’s mind. She had noticed how worn out he was, how when he smiled at her and said nothing was wrong his smile did not reach his eyes.

But Nesta wanted Cassian himself to tell her what was happening. Wanted him to open his heart about what was making the circles beneath his eyes darker with each passing day without her having to dig it out of him. He had told her months ago during that hike at Illyria that she could be silent and he would be waiting for her to open up when she felt comfortable, as long as she did not shut him out. Now Nesta would do the same. She would wait beside him, offering her support however she could until he was ready to talk.

“You are unusually quiet today,” Nesta noted. They were resting on the sofa in front of the fireplace — Nesta reading a book and Cassian lying down, his head on her lap — having a quiet late evening after the training session with the Valkyries in the morning.

“Missing the sound of my lovely voice, Nes? Should I read out loud a paragraph from your book?” Cassian teased, opening an eye. He had slept poorly the night before, and the quiet sound of the embers crackling on the fireplace and his mate absentmindedly running her free hand through his hair had him battling sleep.

“No,” she closed her book, “it was merely an observation.”

Cassian closed his eyes again, smiling softly.

“Are you sure? I am certain the House would love to hear all about your newest smutty book”

The faelights flicked twice, as if agreeing with him.

“Oh hush now, you can read it after I am done with it. ” Nesta said, glaring at the ceiling “I never knew a sentient being more impatient”

Cassian laughed. At first he had been surprised when Nesta talked to the House, but he had grown used to it, even talking to It on more than one occasion.

“Do you want to move to our room?” Nesta asked, gently running her hands through his hair “it is more comfortable than the couch”

Cassian merely sighed “No, I am very comfortable like this” he turned on his side, arms circling her waist and wings dropping a little on the floor “I am afraid I will keep you hostage while I nap.”

Whatever Nesta meant to say was lost when she noticed how his breath had eased, her mate having already fallen asleep. And before she could even ask, the House flicked off the faelights, drawing shut the curtains of the room they had turned into their living room.

“Thank you,” Nesta found it quite endearing how the House had grown to care about Cassian as much as It cared about her. In the beginning, It liked to play pranks on him and even sided with Nesta whenever she and Cassian had an argument — once It locked Cassian outside and only let him in when he apologised. Over time, however, they had formed a rather close friendship.

Nesta opened her book again, turning on the small faelight that Azriel had gifted her on Solstice. She had just gotten to the juicy part and she knew that little light would not wake Cassian any time soon if the way he was softly breathing was any indication of how deeply he was sleeping.

She had read half of the book when she felt an uneasy feeling through the bond. She looked down at Cassian and saw his breathing getting uneven, his arms tightening around her waist.

“Cass?” Nesta whispered softly, setting her book aside. She could feel his fear and anguish through the bond, and it pained her that she could do nothing to ease his pain.

Cassian whimpered, and although Nesta knew better than to wake up someone having a nightmare, she could not stand to see him in such pain.

“Cassian, wake up, please” she tugged on her end of the bond, her hands cupping his face. He woke up gasping, hazel eyes huge and scared.

“A bucket,” he managed to say as he scrambled up, his breathing erratic “I need—”

No sooner had the House made a bucket appear than Cassian was on his knees, emptying his stomach. Nesta kneeled beside him, holding his hair back and rubbing his back.

“It is okay, everything is fine now” she said softly.

The House made a glass of water and a towel appear, Nesta thanking It quietly. Cassian had closed his eyes, breathing as if he had just learned how to.

“Hey,” she grabbed his face “open your eyes Cass.”

His hands came up, grabbing her wrists like he was wandering at the sea and she was his lifeline.

“That is it, just look at me” she said softly yet firmly, his scared hazel eyes meeting her blue-grey ones “Breath, Cassian.”

Nesta took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it go slowly. Cassian copied her, and after a few minutes his breathing had become normal again, his racing heart also slowing down.

“I am sorry,” that was the first thing he said, voice hoarse “I did not want you to see me like this”

“Nonsense,” Nesta dismissed, giving him the glass of water and making him drink it “you have seen me in much worse conditions”

“Are you ready to tell me what is going on?” she asked.

Cassian nodded his head, biding his time by taking another sip of water and using the towel to clean his mouth.

“For as long as I could remember I’ve had nightmares,” he began “There are the good nightmares and bad nightmares. The good ones usually wake me and leave me with a feeling of failure.”

Nesta remembered the nights in which she would wake up to an empty bed, Cassian going over reports — she would sit on his lap and give remarks as he went over them — or just standing on their balcony. On those nights she would go over to him and bring him back to bed.

“I am cold” she would say, and he would hug her tightly and Nesta would let him think that she did not notice how he needed the hug more than she did.

She could always feel his sadness through the bond, no matter how hard he tried to close his end of that golden thread that binds them together so intrinsically.

“And the bad ones?” Nesta quietly asked.

“The bad ones leave me like this,” he said with a self deprecating laugh “A complete and utter mess, barely functioning.”

“You have been sleeping poorly for a while now. Why didn’t you talk to me?” Cassian must have seen the hurt on her eyes, felt it through the bond, because he grabbed her hands, squeezing them.

“I am not good with words, I am sure you have noticed that,” he smiled weakly “I wish I was half as eloquent as you are.”

“You managed just fine in our wedding” she said with an arched eyebrow, and that got a real laugh out of him.

“I was inspired that day, I will admit.” he got serious again “But I think that maybe spending a lot of time being alone and angry did not help with my inability to find the right words to express what I am feeling. And to share my problems with others.”

Nesta had noticed this particular trait of Cassian, especially after she had stopped keeping him at arms lengths and had finally allowed herself to admit what she felt for him. He loved his family deeply, would put himself at risk for others in a heartbeat, would always have a happy face and joke to lighten the mood.

He cared for and about everyone, but what about him? Who did the same to him?

Nesta wanted to be the one with whom he could discard his happy mask and show a range of emotions.

“You can always talk to me Cassian,” she said “Anytime, no matter what.”

“I don't want to burden you. You already went through so much that to further worry you with something as silly as a nightmare—”

“I cannot believe you are saying this,” Nesta said, and Cassian could feel her anger and disappointment through the bond “You could never burden me and for you to even suggest otherwise—”

“I am your wife, Cassian. Your mate. If I don’t care and worry about you, who will?” she continued after taking a deep breath to calm herself “Besides, it is not a silly nightmare if it affected you this way”

Cassian stayed a few minutes quiet, mindlessly playing with her wedding band, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Another reason I was hesitant to talk to you about the nightmares is because— because now I have nightmares about you, Nes” he avoided her eyes while he talked, still focused on her hands “The good nightmares are the ones about my failures with you. Not stopping Hybern, not helping you sooner…”

Nesta’s heart almost broke when he said that. How could he think that about himself when he had been the one to tell her months ago when they visited the old shabby cottage she had lived with her family in poverty that there was nothing she could have done to stop Hybern and save her father?

“And the bad?” she asked, wishing he would look at her.

“The bad ones are about you dying in my arms. About you realising I am nothing more than a bastard born nobody, who is not deserving of even the air you breathe and then leaving to go travel the world, to marry a king from the continent or from other fae lands.” his voice got quieter, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of telling her what he saw on those nights “Of you simply leaving me and never looking back.”

“Tonight— tonight was a bad one,” he finally looked at her and his face was so utterly wrecked with pain and desperation that Nesta wanted to tell him that she would stop his nightmares, that she would bargain with the Mother and even that blasted Cauldron to leave him alone.

“I dreamt that when Briallyn ordered me to kill I could not turn the knife on myself. So I killed you. And she got the Mask and kept reviving you so I had to kill you over and over and over again” silent tears started running down his face and her heart truly shattered.

She hugged him tight, Cassian burying his head on her shoulder.

“Shh xe nhia, I am here,” Nesta knew a few words in Illyrian, and she hoped that the use of them, the familiarity that they brought, would help Cassian “I am not leaving you. Not now and not ever”

“However, if you keep trying to spoil my books I might become Ems’ newest house mate” she joked, making Cassian laugh.

“I would be completely lost without you Nes,” he said with a weak smile.

“I know,” she tenderly brushed his cheeks, drying his tears “Promise me something?”

“Anything you desire”

“Promise me you will wake me up when you have another nightmare, be it ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Promise me you will talk to me and let me be beside you when you are in need.” she pleaded.

“I promise” Cassian kissed her cheek, gathering her in his arms and walking towards their bedroom. Reluctantly setting her down, he went to their bathroom to freshen up while Nesta changed out of her dress.

Cassian walked back in to find her wearing one his favourite sweaters.

“I had been looking for that sweater”

“You were? Funny how it ended up in my drawer. Maybe the House put it there by mistake” Nesta shrugged, knowing very well that she had been the one to steal it. She was constantly stealing Cassian’s clothes.

“You do look better on it than me, so I think I can forgive that small mishap” he said, getting under the covers and hugging Nesta close.

“I love you, Nes” he whispered in her ear “And thank you”

“I love you too, Cass,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

And that night, for the first time in a long while, Cassian had no nightmares.

•

tag list: @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @katekatpattywack @nestaarcheron @imagine-me @sv0430 @starryblueskies7 @live-the-fangirl-life @valkyriewarriors @readskk @wannawriteyouabook @imwritingthesewords @rainbowcheetah512 @moodymelanist @castielspelvis

[Reblogs/likes/comments are always welcomed!!]

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #a court of silver flames #post acosf #post a court of silver flames #sarah j maas #sjmaas #acotar

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teyamsatan · 1 year

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The Archer | Chapter VIII: Bigger Than The Whole Sky

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

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

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 11,5k words

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

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

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

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

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

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

“Where are your sisters?”

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

“YOUR SISTERS, WHERE ARE THEY?”

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go get our daughters.”

“You stay with your brother.”

“No, dad, I want to go with you.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“No, dad…”

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

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

“Neteyam, wait uuup!”

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

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

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

“You caught me.”

“Woah! What is this place?”

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

“It’s heaven!!”

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

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

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

“So, maybe Heaven is where Eywa is?”

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

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

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

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

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

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

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

Kalin? Brother?

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

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

“What’s feminism?”

“What do I know? I’m six.”

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

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

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

“DADDY! YOU’RE HERE!”

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

“WE MISSED YOU, DAD!”

No. No. No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

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

“Parultsyìp! (Children!)”

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

“Neteyam?”

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

“Atan!”

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan.”

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

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

“Tell me what to do.”

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

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

“I did it!”

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

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

“Neteyam, stop.”

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

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

“Neteyam, why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“No… it can’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Kids… Our kids… you saw our kids?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is happening?”

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

“Atan, what is happening?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I think you have, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s alright, you’re ok. We’re ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s ok. This will help him. But we need to hurry. It takes about ten minutes for it to fill, maybe a bit longer since I will be using my arm at the same time.”

You got to work immediately, cleaning and disinfecting the area where he lay, prepping all of your tools and asking Tsireya to be your scrub nurse for the day. You cleaned his body, bloodied and bruised, trying to not focus on how it was making you nauseous, making your mind sick and dizzy with worry and pain, and you knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You were too emotionally involved to be the one doing this, but there was no one else. Not Norm, not Max. Not Claire, or Tim, no one else. You took the scalpel and made a cut into his skin, asking Tsireya to cauterise wherever she saw bleeds. She was naturally good at this, you noted and you smiled at this girl who has only known you and Neteyam for a few months and yet here she was, crying and shaking, doing everything in her power to save your family from harm. You knew Lo’ak was a big reason for it, but not the only reason. You really liked her.

You diligently removed all the shards and shrapnel the bullet left behind, and sutured every layer until his back was patched up. Somehow, the bullet missed his heart, and the main arteries, which you felt was Eywa’s doing. It had to be. Eywa wanted him to live, she had to. Because this wasn’t balance. Nothing about your lives has ever been balanced, and it would take a lot of good to equilibrate all the fucked up shit both you and him, your entire family has been through. So Neteyam had to live.

Once the blood bag was full, you removed the needle from your body and got up, realising quickly you shouldn’t be standing up, falling to the ground with a thud. Shit. You once again had to turn to Tsireya for help, and she managed to hang the bag somewhere above you, so that the liquid could flow freely into Neteyam’s body. You waited until you turned him chest up, and then inserted the needle, allowing the blood to move through his now beating heart. Your blood. Your blood ran through his body, through his heart. Your blood will save him, like your hands did, like your body had to. You were about to collapse after losing so much, but knowing you were the reason he was still here empowered you. It was just you and him. Just you and him, in this whole world, for the rest of time.

It was hard having to turn him upside down without disturbing him or hurting him further, but eventually you and Tsireya managed to, and you did the same procedure on his chest, until that was also completely closed and clean. Your hands were trembling, and your suture ruptured a few times in his body, and it took every ounce of self-restrain you had to not cry, not to collapse in a puddle on the floor, to not scream in agony, not ask the Universe what the hell could you have ever done to deserve going through all of this? Nobody should have to go through having to lose a dad and a mate in one day, no one should have to fight tooth and nail to keep them from crossing to the other side, to patch their brokenness, whilst yours flourished and bloomed like deadly nightshade. You had to endure more in 19 years than most people do in their lives, more grief embellished your being than there were beads adorning Na’vi bodies. You were feeling sorry for yourself, and for once in your life, you didn’t want to stop, you didn’t want to have to pull yourself back together, you didn’t want to be strong anymore. You were tired.

When you finished, you were spent, hours upon hours passing you by. You felt pain in your body everywhere, kicking at your insides like a monster waiting to crawl out of you with every push. You were cramping and the whole world turned around you, and you knew you were going to pass out from exhaustion. You went to your mat, anxiety enveloping you in knowing there was nothing else you could possibly do for Neteyam at the moment, and called for your turquoise friend.

“Tsireya, when…if… the family gets back, you tell them they need to call Norm and Max. Tell them they need to get here as soon as possible. I can’t do this by myself.” You felt the world dissolving before you as you spoke, and allowed it to fully dissipate away from view, embracing the feeling of nothingness, because nothing meant no pain, and no images of your dead mate, and your dead dad, and you were happy with that.

You woke up in a daze, faintly recognising the slur of voices blending together into one indistinctive blabber, that you tried with your whole might to decipher. You tried to open your eyes, but they were so heavy it felt like lifting weights back in the lab complex as a human. Eventually, your senses recovered and you were able to both see and hear the Sullys, as well as Norm and Max chatting to each other, huddled over Neteyam’s body.

“She’s awake!” Tuk’s voice startled you, and seeing her approaching you excitedly tugged at your heart. My Tuk-tuk…

“Oh, Great Mother, thank you! Ma ‘ite!” Neytiri crouched next to your limp body and hugged you, and you winced as every part of you she was touching hurt. You saw scratches and bruises all over your body from the battle, that you were too preoccupied to notice before.

“Sa’nok.” She sobbed in your chest, releasing all the anguish of thinking she has lost two kids in one night. “I’m ok, sa’nok. I’m here.”

“You saved him! You saved him, I thought we lost him! I thought I lost him!” Her cries were ringing painfully in your ear, the sadness in them close to tearing you apart.

“Is he…?”

Jake came over and kneeled next to you, tears in his own eyes. The whole family looked exhausted, spent, physically and mentally, and you counted them quickly, sighing deeply when you found them all to be here, in the tent.

“He’s still asleep, kid. What happened?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

You moved next to Neteyam, holding his hand, just needing to feel him, and his now much stronger pulse, and spent the next while explaining everything you have had to do and watched as their mouths got progressively more agape in shock. Then they watched yours do the same as Jake told you what happened on the ship.

“He’s dead, kid. He’s finally dead. Whatever else happens, at least Quaritch will never haunt this family ever again.”

Your eyes immediately moved to Spider, and you felt a tinge of sadness for the boy who also had to lose his father, just like you have. No matter what, no matter what atrocities this man committed, you knew better than most than the love doesn’t go away, it runs deep and the water of an underwater cavern, hidden from view and light, but there, nevertheless. You were surprised, though, when upon looking at him, you saw him shifting uncomfortably, looking everywhere but you and your family, picking at his cuticles. It was a bad habit you shared, but one that gave away nervousness, anxiety - guilt. What the hell did you do, Spider?

“How long have I been out?”

“About a day?”

You turned to Max and Norm, who were dutifully listening to everything, and you could tell how overwhelming it all was to them, how crazy and mind numbing and revolting. But it was life, your life. Your life.

“How is he?”

All of the attention shifted back onto Neteyam, who looked like he was resting. He looked… happy. Peaceful. You hoped whatever he was going through, it was better than this abusive reality, and you hope he could finally rest, until he was ready to come back to you.

“He’s in a coma, Ace.” You gasped a little, and another stabbing pain shot through you. “Look here.” He rose the portable EEG he had in his hands and scanned Neteyam’s brain from a distance.

Your breath stopped as you took in the information on the screen.

“He’s in a hypoxic-ischaemic coma.”

“W-what does that mean?”

You gulped loudly before you answered Jake.

“It means that his brain didn’t have enough oxygen after his heart stopped.” What you didn’t want to tell him is how few people actually come back from that, and come back the same way they left. You exchanged a look with Norm and saw the imperceptible head shake he gave in your direction, and once again, felt pain stabbing you everywhere in your body.

“B-but he’ll be alright, no? He’ll wake up and it’ll be alright?”

You lied to yourself as much as to them. “Yes. Yes, he’ll be alright.”

Neteyam woke up startled, deep nightmares still fresh in his mind, nightmares of a battle, of a ship, of blood dripping over him and on the floor, pain shooting through him ceaselessly. Images of his mother screaming that haunted him, images of your forlorn face as the last thing on his mind before it all ended. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took in the familiar beauty of your meadow and took in the two small bodies resting against his own, nuzzled in his chest. He was ok. Everything was ok. He was home, his kids were safe. The voice humming peacefully blessed his ears, and he knew then that you were also safe. It was just a nightmare.

He quietly untangled himself from his kids’ grasps, that ended up cuddling each other back to sleep, paying little mind to their dad. He took in the sight that swelled his heart so much he felt it was going to explode out of his chest. He has never been happier. He couldn’t imagine life getting any better.

“I didn’t know if you’d come back.” Your voice was soft and angelic, like it always was, but your words confused him.

“What do you mean? Where else would I go?”

You sighed, but patted the spot next to you so he could join you. You looked over at the two little beings sleeping peacefully a few feet from you.

“So these are our kids, huh?”

Further confusion enwrapped Neteyam like a quilt. He didn’t understand most words that were coming out of your mouth.

“So you want two kids? Not three? I always thought you wanted a whole football team.” You say almost to yourself, laughing a little with your hand brought to your mouth in amusement.

“Atan, what is going on? I don’t understand what you are saying. You’re acting like you don’t know our kids.”

You smiled a little in his direction, a sorrowful smile, but as you brought your hand up to his face and caressed his cheek in the way you always did, in the way that calmed his mind and set his skin ablaze, all the worry left him.

“They’re beautiful. So beautiful. Perfect mix of you and me. You know, I used to think about our kids, think about the impossible scenario that you and me could bring life into this crazy world, but they’re so much better than my imagination ever was. Pure and good, unlike the world they’ll never get to see.”

Neteyam didn’t have time to question you, not when the little bundles of joy in question rose sleepily and tackled you both, squeals and happy screams filling up the forest.

“Mummy! Daddy! You’re both here! We missed you, mum!”

“Did you, now?” Neteyam looked at you, and you looked like you were struggling to adjust to the new development, like you were trying to thread the ground and the situation carefully. You looked…uncomfortable. Why were you uncomfortable around your own children? Neteyam’s seen you with Tuk a million times, you were great with children. He couldn’t help the seed of doubt and fear that was growing in his belly, making him nervous. What was going on?

“Let’s swim, all of us! We haven’t swam together in a long time!” Tsyeym pushed to her feet and grabbed you both with all her might, trying to will you towards the river. He watched as you relented, and eventually got up, grabbing her on the way and bringing her up into your arms.

“Wait a second. Let me have a look at you.” You analysed the little girl, your little girl, every feature and freckle on her face. You poked her small nose with your index finger and traced it on her face, on her perfect pink plush lips and her yellow eyes, to her braided hair. You gently grabbed her queue and laughed a little as Tsyeym shrieked - it tickled her. “So you’re my little baby girl? You are the most beautiful thing in the world, aren’t you?” You turned to Neteyam, and he noticed you holding back tears. You looked happy. “She has my eyes. My mother’s eyes.”

Neteyam nodded, confusion still gnawing at him. “Of course she does. Your eyes are the most incredible things I have ever seen in my life. They are like treasures - my treasures.”

“Just like she is.” You held her against your chest and Neteyam watched as his daughter made a home out of it, so stuck to you he didn’t think he could ever separate you again.

“Tsyeym (treasure). That should be her name.”

“Atan… that is her name.”

“And what about this mighty warrior?” Kalin ran to his mother, grabbing onto your leg and holding on, attaching himself to you much like Tsyeym did. You kneeled, with Tsy still in your arms, and did a similar inspection of his son as you just did a few minutes ago. You took him by the hand and twirled him around, taking in every aspect of his being. “Look at this hair! My hair. Tsyeym has your hair, but he has mine. And look at those stripes, just like mummy and daddy, like a little tiger. Come here.” You kissed his entire face, starting with his nose and all around, ending with his human-coloured eyes and the top of his head.

“Why do you taste so sweet? You’re a sweetie pie, aren’t you? You’re mine, my sweet.”

You looked up at Neteyam, like you just had the most brilliant idea. “Kalin!! His name has to be Kalin (Sweet to the taste)!”

Why did you keep doing that? Those were their names, their names you gave them at birth. He was going to ask you what the hell was going on with you, when a loud sound boomed in the sky. It sounded like thunder, but not quite. It must have been thunder, what else could it be? The kids screaming got his undivided attention, and he rushed to their side to comfort them both, grabbing Kalin is his arms and holding him while he saw you doing the same with your baby girl.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright, we’re alright.”

“What was that?”

“My love, you need to remember. Please. I’m here for you.”

“I know you are, Atan. I just don’t know what you want me to remember. Can you please tell me?”

“I can’t, Neteyam. You have to figure it out yourself. You have to try harder. We don't have a lot of time. Please. I am here for you.”

The river adventure removed the anxiety rising in Neteyam’s chest, and he concluded the boom he heard was just particularly nasty thunder. Thunderstorms were not uncommon in the forest, and the sooner his babies got used to them and realised they were nothing to be afraid of - the better. There was no reason to let it come between them and the perfect day they were having. After a couple hours, you were all soaked, so much laughter and joy Neteyam’s mouth hurt from how much it was stretching to accommodate the unwavering smile refusing to leave his face. Eventually, his family was all too tired to go on, and you all stretched on the grass, huddled together, arms and legs intertwined so thoroughly, it was impossible to tell who was who anymore.

“Mummy, can you sing for us? It’s nap time!”

“Is it nap time already? Sure, sweets. I can sing.”

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you'll be drowned

“Neteyam…” you were hunched over your mate’s body, alone with just him, alone at last to pour your soul out and hope he would hear you, hope there was a chance. You had to try.

“Neteyam… please. I know you are in pain, and I know how much this life takes and takes from you. I know you’re probably at peace wherever you are, but you can’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I know it’s selfish, so selfish, but I need you to please come back to me. I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard, but you have to come back. I can’t live knowing all I’ll ever get is scraps of you, scraps of us. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after I’ve seen the future, so clear and bright in my head. Not after knowing everything I’ll lose if I lose you.”

You walked to the edge of the platform and sat down next to your favourite two scientists, that you were so happy to see, and so sad it was always under such undesirable circumstances.

“How is he?”

“Pretty much the same.” You dunked your feet in the water with a sigh, looking at the way the fish swam in between them, some of them tickling you as they went past.

“How are you? We didn’t even get to give you a check and make sure everything’s alright. You gave him a lot of blood.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I did what I had to do.”

“You saved his life, Ace. He was dead and you brought him back to life. You did it.”

“Maybe. Maybe I just revived his heart so he could be a vegetable for the rest of time. Maybe all I did is prolong the inevitable and give his family false hope.”

“Don’t say that. He’ll wake up.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed annoyed in Max’s direction.

“Come on, Max. We’re all scientists here. What are the chances someone comes back from hypoxic-ischaemic coma? Roughly 70% of people die. And of the 30% that make it, most of them have severe brain damage, that impacts most aspects of their lives.”

“That’s human statistics, Ace. Human statistics have no business here on Pandora. You know that. You of all people should know that. You died. You were without oxygen for 30 minutes, and you came back, after chatting to your mum in the afterlife and her telling you the cure for a deadly virus. You should have faith, Ace. Faith in yourself, in Neteyam…faith in Eywa.”

You couldn’t take another word on the subject, not when you were so close to fully breaking down in front of them, so you chose another - easier to digest, if not as hard to talk about.

“Did Jake and Neytiri go get my dad?”

“Yes. They all went. They should be back soon.”

“Lo’ak said you… went to save him. What happened?”

“He… he’s not who I thought he was. Not who I spent my whole life hating. I was wrong about him. I was so wrong.”

You told them everything that happened after he left you the message, and they listened attentively and gasped softly at every turn of events.

“I… I couldn’t save him. He bled out in front of me. I will never get a chance to make it right. He’ll never get a chance to make it right. I wanted him to stay. I thought we could finally be a family. I thought I could allow him to finally have a daughter, a daughter that stays, a daughter that he got to watch live. I wanted him to be a grandpa. I imagined him teaching my kids about Earth, babysitting when Neteyam and I wanted time for ourselves. I don’t know why, but I feel like he would have been the best grandpa. He saved us, he saved me. He was redeeming himself, he could have been one of the people. We were supposed to be a family. I was supposed to have a family.”

You didn’t even realise you were crying until Norm reached over and wiped the tears off your face with his thumb. They didn’t have anything to say. There was nothing, no comforting words, no words of encouragement that would ever mend this, that would ever make this less painful than it was.

Your attention shifted onto the Tsurak that flew above water, a burst of orange in a sea of blue. Behind it were a couple of ilu and in the air, Neytiri’s ikran was flying majestically.

Jake reached your marui first, followed closely by the rest of the Sullys. You got up to help him unload your dad’s body, wrapped beautifully in mangrove leaves and colourful shroud and placed on a stretcher made out of woven tree branches.

He was hidden from you, but it didn’t matter - your imagination was more than enough to paint him right in front of your mind’s eye, bloated and bloodied, wet and dirty from having been left on a rock for 2 days. You just left him there. By himself. You passed out and left your own dad to rot, the same way he did the first time - alone. Your mind was torturing you, the way it always loved to, and you knew this image would be tattooed in your brain, alongside that of Neteyam’s eyes going vacant as you watched, for as long as you lived. No matter how much you healed, no matter how much old nightmares faded, there were always new ones to take their place, new nightmares to show you you will never outrun your trauma. Not now, not soon, not for the rest of your life.

“We talked to Tonowari and Ronal, baby girl. We explained, we told them what Lo’ak and Spider told us, about how your dad fought alongside us, how he saved your lives, and he will be allowed a Metkayina funeral. This way he will be with Eywa.”

Your tears that never ceased multiplied, and you couldn’t help the sob that escaped your lips.

“Thank you.” You ran into Jake’s arms and he hugged you tightly, stroking your hair gently in a comforting gesture. “Thank you so much. Thank you.”

“Of course, kid. Your dad was a good man, and he deserves to be with your mother again.”

You brought him to the Tsahik’s tent, and watched as they undid all the wrappings, until he was in view, and although not as bad as you imagined, he didn’t look good. You knew decomposition worked faster in water than on land, but you never thought you’d have to witness it first hand, and definitely not with your dad.

“Go, kid. We can clean him up.”

You shook your head, not removing your eyes from his body. You left him there, you had to do this.

You knelt on the ground next to him, and Ronal guided you through the required steps and rituals, until he was ready, a few hours later. He looked a lot better when you were done, and you smiled softly, allowing the salty tears to stain your mouth. He looked peaceful. You didn’t think he felt peace in his whole life, so you were at least grateful he could experience it now.

“We will do the funeral ceremony tonight. We will take him to the Cove of the Ancestors after Eclipse.”

Another stabbing pain shot through you, and you wondered how much longer your body would keep going under this amount of strenuous stress. How long until all this heartbreak broke your body down beyond repair?

You returned to your tent, getting ready for the ceremony, allowing your family to paint you in funeral markings, allowing them to dress you in ceremonial garbs, an ornate shawl covering your shoulders - all while you were holding Tuk in your lap. You were cold, you noted absentmindedly. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt cold, but there is was - shivers, like ice water in your veins, running down your spine, extending to each extremity, making a home in your bones.

You needed Neteyam. You needed him to be here, you needed him to be your light, to guide you through this time, to hold you and keep you warm as you had to give your dad to the sea, and say goodbye - forever. But he didn’t budge from his spot on the mat, breathing in and out deeply and regularly. He’s just sleeping. Just sleeping.

Neteyam was cold as he woke up from another horrible dream, a similar dream, a deathly dream he couldn’t shake from his mind no matter how much he tried. He kept being pulled in and out of consciousness, it seemed, and he wondered meekly if anything was wrong. Some things felt wrong. Just a little wrong. He took a look at you, buried in his arms, sleeping peacefully next to him, and gasped as your face brought back another dream, so vivid and lucid, it was like it wasn’t a dream at all, like it was a… a memory.

As much as he missed home, Neteyam had to admit little managed to beat waking up in this marui, where the sun was shining through the intricate web of fabrics, creating colourful moving patterns and where the salty air cleared his nose immediately and woke him up with newfound enthusiasm for a new day of discovering all the new ways this place differed from his own. His entire family was fast asleep, and he sighed contently when he felt your breath tickling his neck and your arms and legs draped loosely across his body. He couldn’t help the excited movement of his tail taking you in, knowing he got to wake up next to you every day, that he’d never have to live without this feeling ever again, that he got to call you his mate, his light… his. For life. He kissed the top of you head and watched as you stirred, waking up from your slumber with a haphazard stretch of all your limbs. When your amber eyes met his and your tired smile made its way to your lips, his heart stopped. You were so beautiful.

“Good morning, my love. Did anyone ever tell you it’s ok to not wake up at the crack ass of dawn?”

He smiled, trying to keep quiet so as to not disturb the rest of his family.

“I’m too excited to see you to sleep, Atan.”

You rolled your eyes at him, letting out an amused scoff. He rolled on top of you, pinning you down with his body. You gasped at the feeling of his hard-on rubbing against your core and he smiled at the way your pupils immediately dilated and your breath shallowed, rolling your hips to meet his.

“Atan, it’s the crack ass of dawn, what are you doing?”

“You started it.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Hey, I have had to live for years wanting you and not being able to have you. You have a lot to make up for.”

He laughed again and laughed some more when you pressed your hand tightly against his mouth as his mother turned slightly in her sleep.

“How about we go for a swim, just you and me? Then I’ll make it up to you for as long as you like.”

You raised your head slightly to close the gap in between you and the kiss brought life into him, brought light into every corner of his being until there was nothing left of him but this feeling, the feeling of you overtaking his every sense.

He was panting as the dream faded, panic overtaking him. What was that? It felt so real. So raw. Not a dream. A memory. Your amber eyes, your blue striped skin. He looked at the version of you sleeping in his arms, human, the same human he’s known all his life, the human he fell in love with. The skin he traced with his eyes, the freckles adorning it that Neteyam knew by heart, your hair that flowed softly down your back and tickled his arm where it touched it. Your eyes that were your mother’s, the thing you loved most about yourself - that he loved most about you. The body you left behind when you did your consciousness transfer.

How were you here? In his arms? How was it possible?

“My love, you need to remember. Please. I’m here for you.”

Remember what? What couldn’t he remember? Why couldn’t he remember?

“Ace, come here. Look at this.” You were about to leave for your dad’s funeral when Norm pulled you aside, showing you the EEG scanning Neteyam’s brain waves. “Look at it.”

You did and your eyes widened as your brain processed what it was seeing. “He’s… seizing?”

“Those are ictal epileptiform discharges. He’s definitely seizing.”

“But his body is still.”

“Not all seizures manifest the same way. There are non-motor seizures, as well. But the waves don’t lie, Ace. He’s seizing. And we can’t know for sure, because we didn’t see Kiri’s brain when she seized, but I think it’s the same kind of seizures. She had interictal activity in her prefrontal when we got to her.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting taking in all of the information and trying to process it, at the same time as dealing with the horrible pain shooting through you and the heartbreak of having to bury your dad without your mate by your side. The world was fading around you, but you knew you had to push through, at least until the end of the ceremony.

If Neteyam’s seizures were the same as Kiri’s, maybe the coma was a lot more than what they thought, than what you thought. Maybe it has something to do with Eywa. Could it be? That he was trapped, just like your mum had been? Could it be that you could find him? Finally see him again? That you could get him back?

Your body quickly caught up to you as the pain became unbearable, and you screamed loudly without meaning to as you felt cramping in your abdomen, like life was being torn away from you with every second passing. The marui and everyone around it quickly disappeared from view, and you felt yourself collapse to the ground and into deep slumber. Maybe you could finally rest.

You woke up confused and numb. The world slowly came back into focus, as did your family members going in between you and Neteyam, unable to figure out who they should worry for at any current moment. You glanced at your arm and then above you, and said a silent prayer of gratitude for Norm and Max, who decided to give you some morphine for the pain. As Lo’ak took note of your cognisance, he let out a scream that came out more like a pained yelp.

“She’s awake. She’s awake.”

Jake rushed to your side and took your face in both his hands, alarmingly checking on you, eyes darting over every piece of you they could cover. Then a look of deep sorrow replaced his previous one, and you felt the panic rise in you once more, not enough morphine in the world to keep the ugly feeling at bay.

“What happened?” Was Neteyam ok? Was everyone ok? What else could possibly be wrong? It didn’t feel like there was anything in this world that could make this whole ordeal somehow worse.

“You… You passed out, kid.”

Norm’s body was trailing all around you, checking on your vitals and on the other IV you know realised were flowing into your body from various sites.

“Just please tell me. You’re looking at me like you have something to tell me, and I just need to know. Please. I just need to know.”

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so, so sorry.”

Your entire family encircled you, holding onto you, your arms, your hands, your legs. Looking at you sorrowfully, mournfully, and you felt like you were one sentence away from passing out again.

Max spoke. “The stress… everything you went through the past couple of days, it put a lot of strain on your body. A lot more than it could take.”

“Honey… you had a miscarriage.”

You were wrong, you thought as you felt the consciousness slip away from your grasp once more. There was one thing in this world that could make this whole ordeal somehow worse.

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja @lovekeeho @trixscarlett

*poem by Nikki Ursula - Seventy Years of Sleep #4

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blitheringmcgonagall · 4 months

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Snow Cherubs & Delayed Deer ⛄️ 🦌

Jily fic Summary:

If you are looking for seasonal vibes: Pining idiots, snowflakes, a hungover stag, posh purebloods, non-existent snowball fights, Black Family vocab...

Inspired by this video of Prongs (in reindeer form but ignore that!!) chasing a train

🎄Start of Christmas Holidays 6th Year🎄

“Ah,” a pause. “How do you do, Evans?”

Sirius Black looked momentarily surprised to see her in their compartment (their personal flipping compartment), along with the other marauders. But his Black Family training had kicked in automatically. Polite stand-offishness.

“Remus and I were on our way back from patrolling this half of the train, so I stopped here for a chat,” Lily said, staring up at him, not even vaguely intimidated. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he said with an evasive grin, which was clearly a big, huge lie.

Remus was looking at him sceptically and Sirius cleared his throat.

“Er, Prongs said to tell you lot he’s been… unavoidably… delayed.” He brushed snow off his school jumper and stamped more snow off his shoes, before shaking his wet hair vigorously.

“Arhh! Youh hoaking we, you wankah!” Peter kicked him in the shin.

“Can’t be helped, we were dealing with… important matters.” Sirius smiled at Peter and stole his last ginger biscuit.

“Matters?” Remus repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Matters.” Sirius glanced from Remus to Lily in silent warning.

“Slytherin matters, of the mini Death Eater variety?” Remus obviously hadn’t gotten the memo.

Sirius’ grin defaulted to the I shall kill you later variety. Remus stared back. He obviously had received the memo, loud and clear, but had chosen to ignore it.

“Not again,” she said, sticking her legs up on the seat in front of her.

Sirius looked at his seat and then at her. She raised her right eyebrow.

“What?”

He raised his left.

“Did I say anything?” he remarked.

“Gods, I wish I could do that with my eyebrows,” Peter sighed despondently.

Sirius shook his head once more, liberally spraying them with slush. Lily looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“What?” He bit into the biscuit.

“Reminds me,” she said. “Of a dog.”

Remus stuck his head inside the newspaper he was reading.

“Really?” Sirius said, blinking innocently.

“The big black one that’s been hanging around the grounds, cute thing,” Lily added, narrowing her eyes. “His eyes are an unusual shade, silver, very similar to yours.”

Peter choked on his own biscuit.

“Oh, the attractive dog? The really popular one, with the sleek —“

But Lily wasn’t paying Sirius any attention.

“What in heaven’s name is that?” she said.

“Could I interest you in a caldron cake?” Peter shoved a box in her direction.

Lily ignored him.

“Remus, why is there a ruddy big stag running after the Hogwarts Express?”

“I don’t see- “

“There, can’t miss it,” she said, pointing out of the window.

There was indeed an ample stag, trotting after them at an increasingly frantic pace.

“What in God’s name is it doing?” she said, staring wide-eyed at him. “It looks almost as if…”

“Almost as if he’s late and missed the last train home for the holidays?” Remus mused from behind The Prophet.

Peter laughed, a touch hysterically, she thought - muttering something about worst secret keepers ever.

Continue on ao3

#that time of year #time for this again #Marauders fic #Jily fic #canon Jily #James didn’t make the train #etc etc #Lily Evans #James Potter #his friends think it’s hilarious

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nikki-is-a-nerd · 6 months

Text

Invisible String

Synopsis:

While in bed with Ezra, you tell him how you think you two were always destined to find your way to each other.

(it's also my apology for the angst fic and this Taylor Swift song hits in ways you don't know)

Genre: Fluff just tooth rotting fluff.

--------------------------------------------

It has already been about six months since you and Ezra have been reunited and three months since you two started dating and living together. It wasn't a difficult transition from being friends to lovers, not when you and him had so much history. It felt almost too natural, like you two were meant to end up here.

You and Ezra both grew up with the other members of the ghost crew, you more than him. You were younger than him by three years, but you were part of the crew way before him. When he disappeared, you and Sabine took it so hard, but Sabine at least had an outlet for a while when she was training with Ahsoka, while you stayed behind to help out the resistance in any way that you could.

All those years apart and gaining experiences, though different made you think about the what ifs in life.

"What are you thinking about?" Ezra asked softly as his fingers carded through your hair.

"Just...what if you stayed here. Like you didn't get to sacrifice yourself. Would we have arrived at this point in our lives still?" You asked truthfully.

"I think we would, maybe a lot faster than we did. I also think that it would have been less complicated too. I think I would have confessed to you in a nice field somewhere in either Lothal or we could go to Naboo." Ezra said looking at the ceiling.

"I think I would've liked that, but am I biased if I like the one I did get?" You teased.

"What? The one I said while I had the flu? You're weird." He laughed.

"Only for you." You joked.

You lay your head on his bare chest drawing patterns on it and some of the blaster scars he must've gotten in his time in Peridea. Ezra looked down on you, feeling content and happy, when he asked you a question as well.

Imagine how different life would've been if I declined Kanan's offer to teach me the ways of a Jedi." He said softly.

"I wouldn't have met you, gotten close to you and all of our little adventures with Sabine would be non existent. I don't think Lothal would be free without you." You said softly.

"I wouldn't know how happy I could've been." You added as you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Aw geez, you really know how to fluster a guy." Ezra said as a blush creeped up his face.

"You know I did try though, date other people while you were gone but they didn't work out." You whispered.

"I know, Sabine told me and that's totally fine. Like I told her, as much as I love you and wish to be with you, I don't want you waiting around for someone who might not come back." Ezra added kindly.

"No, Ezra. They didn't work out because I was looking for you in all of them. I was trying to see glimpses of you in them but, then again there's only one you."

It was silent for a while as Ezra let those words sink in. He felt so much unbridled happiness at the thought. He just felt so much happiness.

"I read a book somewhere how some people are connected by the force, or for some a red string, but with how life was with us. The way we keep finding each other. I'm starting to think ours is no measley red string. I think ours is a golden thread." Ezra said.

"Well aren't you a romantic." You teased as you poked his chest.

"Only for you." He returned your earlier words to you.

"Since we're not as busy in the resistance as of yet, wanna come with me to Yavin-4. I want to show you somewhere I used to go before I joined the ghost." You asked.

"Honestly I'd go anywhere with you. I don't think I can handle being away from you for too long now." He said as he kissed your temple.

"You're such a sap. Jacen tells me you talk his ear off during training and you just tell him how we met, albeit very different from how we actually met." You teased.

Ezra looks at you with a teasing grin as he shifts himself to hover over you and moves his hands to where you're ticklish. Letting the sound of both your laughter echo in your little haven. Although Ezra finds it funny to tickle you and finds it even funnier that now that you're both older, you're struggling to get him off of you, but he was much more focused on the sound of your laughter. A sound he truly did miss while in exile.

"Stop, stop, I admit defeat to the great Jabba the Hut!" You exclaimed a bit breathless.

"What? The great Jabba can't hear you clearly?" He said grinning.

"Oh great Jabba, love of my life, sunshine boy, I surrender." You said catching your breath as Ezra slowed his ministrations to a stop.

"Yay! You are now the captive of Jabba!" He said as he dropped his entire bodyweight on you.

"Ezra, no, you're heavier now and you're huge. You're as heavy as a loth wolf or something." You whined playfully.

"This Loth wolf wants to cuddle his darling girl, awooo" Ezra said hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

You card your fingers through his locks and he looks at you. Eyes full of affection, one you're sure you're reciprocating. At that moment, Ezra immediately knew that there was no time more perfect than this. No crowds, no fancy preparation, just you two in your happiest moment in your comfortable pajamas, with the light of the moon being the only light source in the room.

"Marry me?" Ezra asked shyly.

"Huh?" You asked, wanting to be sure.

Ezra moved away from you, allowing you to sit up as he opened a compartment in his bedside drawer, pulling out a small box. He then situated himself in front of you once more as he opened the box and got down on one knee.

"Will you marry me, your goofy and very much smitten boyfriend and make me the happiest guy in the universe, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" Ezra asked, his voice shaky as the nerves were settling in.

Your eyes pricked with tears, as you hugged Ezra tightly, nodding your head.

"Yes Ezra. Always yes." You answered as you pulled away.

"Thank the force, I thought I was getting a 'not yet Ezra', I mean I wouldn't mind it but that would definitely destroy my confidence." Ezra said as his own tears of joy rolled down his face.

He grabbed your hand and placed a beautiful ring on your hand. It wasn't too in your face or intricate but it was the perfect ring. You then noticed a certain detail engraved inside the ring.

"Ezra, did you ask the ring maker to engrave this?" You asked, a soft smile on your face.

Ezra looked at you as you handed him the ring so he could see it and he grinned as he read the words.

One single thread of gold tied me to you.

"Yeah, I did. I feel like it sums us up perfectly." Ezra said as he placed the ring back on your finger.

"I love you, I'll always find my way back to you." You said softly.

"I'd wait forever for you too. Now, let's sleep my future Mrs. Bridger." Ezra said with the brightest smile.

"Alright, only because I'd wake up seeing your handsome face." You said as you snuggled closer to Ezra.

The future was truly bright for you two. You won't know what would happen next but as long as you two are together. That would be enough.

#ezra bridger x reader #fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #starwars fanfics

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touchlikethesun · 28 days

Text

a few informal thoughts on accent in written media and accent in translation

in light of a recent rb about dialect in haikyuu (which i recommend reading since i'm sorta responding to it but it's not required), i wanted to write down my quite complex thoughts about how "accent" is conveyed in written media, and how "accent" or "dialect" is translated cross-linguistically. it's really not a simple issue...

the biggest issue is that the very notion of an accent or a dialect as most non-linguists conceive of them is rooted in some form of bigotry, because there is almost always an underlying supposition that an "accent"/"dialect" exists in opposition to or as a deviation from the "standard." in written media, what that means is that some characters - often the main characters or the pov characters - have the privileged of their thoughts and words transcribed with standardised spellings and english teacher approved grammar (for the most part), and some characters - often but not always a character from a marginalised background or a character that is some way othered - are transcribed with intentional "errors."

(lmao readmore is deffo warranted this is a long one xx)

i want to give a very clear example of what i'm talking about, and i'm sorry to cite harry potter but it is a treasure trove for this kinda thing. also like... is it any surprise that jkr is particularly egregiously guilty of this... but anyways, look at that following passage from the philosopher's stone and watch the corresponding scene (hopefully the vid starts at the the part i want sorry youtube sucks)

“I'm a what?" gasped Harry. "A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?”

youtube

now to my american ears, both harry and hagrid in this scene have noticable differences in pronunciation compared to how i might say the same lines - there are so many ways their speech might be written differently (from my pov; from a british pov i'm sure they'd have some changes to make in writing down my speech i'll never be free from the wodder boddle jokes).

what i think is particularly interesting tho is that harry says the word "what" twice in the clip, with two different pronunciations. the first time he says it, he actually doesn't pronounce the /t/ at the end of the word (in technical terms, it's an unreleased unvoiced alveolar plosive), and the second time the pronunciation of the /t/ is exaggerated for emphasis (a particularly aspirated unvoiced alveolar plosive). but this difference in the way harry says these two words is not conveyed in the text of hp. harry simply says "what."

i wish i had a more direct example, but a very similar sort of thing is going on when hagrid says the word "and," which he pronounces with an unreleased voiced alveolar plosive - almost exactly the same as harry's first "what" - but instead of "and" being written with standard spelling, jkr opts to replace the "d" with an apostrophe.

it's essentially the same linguistic phenomenon, but because harry is supposed to be middle class and from surrey, his linguistic quirks are not conveyed in the writing because he speaks "proper" english - whereas hagrid's linguistic quirks (in this case it is the same quirk present in harry's speech) are meticulously documented because he is working class and uneducated, and his language is deemed a deviation from the standard. harry's english is unmarked and deemed unaccented because his variety is very close to the enforced standard. and the "standard" is just the speech of the privileged classes. sorry that reasoning reads a bit circular, but it isn't supposed to be logical, it is in fact a very illogical line of reasoning.

a lot of times, authors will justify their choice to transcribe accents because accents are often integral to a character's identity. and i do not disagree that many people take pride in their accents or that accents aren't used as a way to index for group/regional identity. but the issue is, when are accents faithfully being transcribed and when are they assumed?

as an example of this, look at these two passages from another problematic author, cassie clare in the clockwork prince:

"You think I’m a fool,” Molly went on. “This is a trap, innit? You Nephilim catch me selling that sort of stuff, an’ it’s the stick for Old Mol, it is.” “You’re already dead.” Will did his best not to sound irritable. “I don’t know what you think the Clave could do to you now.” “Pah.” Her hollow eyes flamed. “The prisons of the Silent Brothers, beneath the earth, can ’old either the living or the dead; you know that, Shadowhunter." (tid.ii, prolouge)

and

"We’re in the Pyx Chamber,” he said. “Used to be a treasury. Boxes of gold and silver all along the walls.” “A Shadowhunter treasury?” Tessa was thoroughly puzzled. “No, the British royal treasury—thus the thick walls and doors,” said Jem. “But we Shadowhunters have always had access.” He smiled at her expression. “Monarchies down through the ages have tithed to the Nephilim, in secret, to keep their kingdoms safe from demons.” “Not in America,” said Tessa with spirit. “We haven’t got a monarchy—" (tid.ii, chapter 1)

i pulled these passages basically at random so maybe there are lines of dialogue that prove the point better (or disprove my point tho i doubt that, just based on my memory of these books), but in passage one, there are two speakers: an cockney woman from east london and a welsh man from an upper class background. i won't go line by line, but it's essentially like with the difference between harry and hagrid, where old molly has her shibboleths all written down whereas will is written with unquestionably grammatical speech.

in passage two, there are three speakers: the same upper class welshman, a lower middle class american woman, and a british-chinese (likely well off) man. we're told at certain points that will has a welsh accent; we can assume that tessa has an american/new york accent; i don't even know where i'd begin to describe jem's accent but it's probably not welsh or american. however, if you look at their dialogue, there is no way to discern any of these differences. their regional identities are all ostensibly important to them, as they are mentioned many many times in the narrative, but for some reason, it wasn't important enough to even make nods to their different accents? meanwhile, a random side character has their accent carefully laid out, dropped 'h's iconic slang and all? why? why is old mol's accent important enough to faithfully write down, but tessa and will's aren't? it couldn't have anything to do with classism could it...? surely not... (they say, with extreme sarcasm)

now, after all that. you might think my stance is that "accent" should never be written down because it necessarily involves classist/racist/otherwise bigoted judgement on what is marked and what is unmarked speech.

if only it were so easy.

honestly the biggest issue with jkr and clare's choices here is that it's so clearly coming from a place of ignorance and/or prejudice. there's nothing wrong with the way hagrid or old molly speak, and writing systems are inherently messy and inaccurate; there shouldn't be anything wrong with trying to more accurately convey utterances. before writing standardisation, people would just write what they thought a word sounded like, resulting in many if not dozens of accepted spellings for each word (sidenote: i've lost the email but i once spoke with someone that was attempting to reconstruct an older variety of english spoken in MA based on "spelling errors" in books from a small new england printing house it was a very cool project).

also, i am not african american so i can't fully speak to the accuracy of the AAVE, but i've seen discussion of how the AAVE and codeswitching in the hate u give by angie thomas was used to convey nuances in identity, and political realities in the US. the way people speak, the variety of language, and the attitudes they and others have towards that variety, are often extremely important narrative tools. as a black girl that also exists in white-dominated spaces, starr carter is aware of her speech and the changes she makes to fit in with white peers, but that doesn't mean that AAVE isn't a part of her, that it isn't important and valid. wouldn't it also be a bit disrespectful to write the AAVE in the hate u give as if it were standard english, when it is such an important part of starr's identity that it's not? AAVE is just as legitimate as a dialect as the dialect that starr's white peers speak, so on what grounds can anyone insist that it not be faithfully written down for its speakers? and lastly and most importantly, who am i, and who is anyone exterior to a linguistic community, to say how community members ought to write down their own speech/dialogue??

this is just one specific case, but i think when someone is writing from an in-group perspective, that changes things. it changes things immensely. there are so many reasons why a writer might choose to feature distinctive accents in their writing, and i don't think it's possible on their presence alone to make a judgement call on if the accent is being featured respectfully and/or with good reason, or if it is bigoted and unnecessary.

and this brings us to the somehow even more difficult question of what to do with "accents" when translating dialogue. not only do translators have to convey semantic meaning, they have to try to convey pragmatic meaning, cultural meaning, implications, and so on and so on. there is also the very important question of what is the role of a translator? i think that answer will depend on the individual, and unfortunately how one answers will have an impact on how they think translators ought to convey accent.

if the author of a text writes a character's dialogue from a prejudiced point of view, like jkr has done with hagrid, is it the role of the translator to dutifully convey the same (or as close to the same as possible) prejudiced implications in their translation? or does the translator have more of an editorial role, allowing them to convey the meaning in a way that won't carry the same connotations in the new language? does it matter what connotations were intended by the author? is the translator at fault for assumptions made by the audience of their translation due to the choice to convey an accent in one way or another? it is impossible to perfectly convey cultural nuances in accents so do we settle for the closest thing or do we forego it entirely and leave it up to something lost in translation? what about the translators own biases and prejudices, what do we do then?

honestly there are so many questions, and i don't have many answers. i err on the side that says the role of the translator is to be as faithful to the meaning of the text as possible, regardless of the translator's personal feelings about what is being conveyed. if an accent is being used purely for comedic effect, i do not think that the translator has the jurisdiction to say "well i think that's rude and ignorant so i won't include it," but at the same time, i think there should be multiple checks and balances, like sensitivity readers, that ensure that the translation is not introducing more prejudiced elements or pushing things even further than the source text.

what initially got me thinking about this was the post linked above about kansai dialect in haikyuu. the only characters that are written to not speak in tokyo dialect (otherwise considered the standard in japan) are the characters from inarizaki, a school in the kansai region. since they are the only characters to be explicitly written to be speaking a regional dialect, i would say it is probably an important - or considered an important by the mangaka - part of their characterisation. regardless of whether or not there should be cultural connotations to a particular variety is unfortunately not relavent in this instance.

i do think translators should not exaggerate the presence of an accent. from what i can tell from forums online, inarizaki's accents are pronounced but more than understandable, so i am liable to suspect some prejudice or mis-informed opinions when i see panels of the miya twins that are barely intelligible. but in general, i am of the opinion that translators should try and match as closely as they can the connotations of the source text, even if the source text is itself problematic. obviously there is not perfect choice. obviously a translation is never going to perfectly capture the original meaning.

in the end i guess these are two different discussions but i do think there is connection between the two. i understand the upset over egregiously translated accented dialogue, but at the same time, i do not think it is the translator's call entirely whether to translate it or not, however they do have a duty to at least try to match contexts as closely as possible. and as for the presence of accent in written media at all, it is really a case-by-case basis if i think it's being done well and with good cause or if it is just an example of ignorance, and i do think there should be room for nuance in this discussion.

come back next time when i ramble about how people write on the internet is a case study for how accent could be written in fiction lol xx

#some of the mutuals expressed support so i am posting #this is so long and honestly it should be longer #so if anyone has any questions comments or concerns #i am happy to hear them #linguistics #fandom linguistics #harry potter #the infernal devices #the hate u give #haikyuu #sociolinguistics #accents #translation

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zoroara · 6 months

Text

OCtober challenge Day 30 - Worm

The longer the wait more the anticipation from both parties grew. Tyr had made sure to keep an eye on the brat as he trained. After all, just because he was hoping this kid would be able to beat him. Didn't mean he was going to lie down and let him take this win.

No, he was going to make him go through a living hell that he had to barely worm his way to victory if he could. Teach him the hell that exists even if you're skilled that you'll nearly die against some opponents, and hopefully, that even if you're a seemingly invincible monster. That the opponent being somewhat inexperienced doesn't mean you can't be taken down by them.

When the battle finally happened, Tyr was more than ready. He was surprised how well Squalo kept up with him, occasionally mimicking moves that Tyr had used and then trying to throw him off with it. It was exciting, he had never fought himself, his own sword style, so having that mixed in as well as the brat learning quickly as they fought made this battle exhilarating.

Blow for blow, swords crossed, blocked, parried, a dangerous dance that went on almost endlessly neither could even think for a second about the fact it had been two days and a whole night since they started. They didn't have time, they needed to ignore the hunger and thirst they had as they continued to clash, bleeding out more and more. It was no longer a battle of pure skill but endurance, and Tyr being a bigger target, meant it was easier for Squalo to eek in more damages.

But Tyr was always inhuman with his limitations, charging the kid he goes to stab him but blocked again, though Tyr could tell he was weakening much faster. He could see an intense fear flash in Squalo's eyes, that he was forcing to become excitement and enjoyment of this battle so that he wouldn't falter. But that only made what happened next make sense. Squalo when Tyr had been pulling his sword back from the block ran at him wildly swinging his sword in what was clearly unthinking desperation. A move only someone who was still new would even attempt.

These were the final blows needed, tearing apart Tyr's chest and leaving him with lethal wounds. He laughed, falling to the ground. He weakly says to Squalo.

"Heeeeey... Welcome ta the Varia brat... You know, the victim's supposed ta choose how they die... So can ya take my head off fer me with my sword? I think that'd be fittin'."

He was glad that Squalo didn't hesitate. Whatever was the reason it was that he listened seeing his own heavy blade lifted over his head, the last sight that many of his own victims had seen, made him elated. Shame he couldn't experience the full drop as his life was removed as it slammed into his neck, decapitating him.

And one chapter closes, that doesn't mean I won't write about him other times for before this time. But it felt a fitting end in the terms of this month.

It should be noted that yes, Tyr's signature way of killing people is kicking them over and decapitating them. Which is why he thought it'd be fitting that his life was ended that way too. But this fight gives Squalo plenty of reasons that he never fucking talks about this to the point that the only person who even mentions this battle is Dino.

Also yes, that was Scontro di Squalo, as it was said this was the final move that Squalo created and what was that killed Tyr. Which I had been thinking about a lot. We probably only see a more refined version of it, and interestingly a move we only see succeed against other sword masters as every battle that it's used, even Yamamoto's version of it fails against non-swordmasters or people who aren't playing by normal sword play rules like genkishi.

It is a move that would only theoretically work against someone expecting mastery, and is extremely hard to deflect or counter just due to the sheer amount of sword swings coming your way. But if they don't do that and go around it, then you're kind of fucked.

#khr oc #OCtober #my art #my oc #tyr #blood #gore mention

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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I'm so over the whole " books of buildup" regurgitated excuse from elriels, it's a broken record at this point, there is so much evidence that ACOMAF leaned Moriel, ACOWAR ends with a promising outlook for Elucien, and honestly, ACOSAF, if Azriel wasn't looking at Mor with so much heat, I could maybe give it to them, but, sorry, no. Azriel being hung up on Mor all throughout the series is a huge red flag. The way elriels act like Azriel wouldn't drop Elain like a bag of potato's for Mor really shows you we must have been reading a different series. I'm not saying there was absolutely nothing, but the way SJM wrote it, just fell so flat, it's missing all the components that makeup her endgame formula, and again; MOR, MOR MOR MOR MOR MOR MOR MOR MOR. Even though Mor doesn't feel the same way,HE does feel things for her and it was telling in ACOSF when he wouldn't give Rhys an answer, like, IRL, if you crushing on a guy or dating a guy who wasn't over his ex, you'd just *bE oK* with that. Please. SJM having Az rebound on Elain and Elain with Az to get over Grayson make sense for their arc, but doesn't mean it's endgame. Oh and as far as we know; Elain was still in love with Grayson in ACOMAF, ACOWAR and Feyre notes her sadness over Grayson in ACOSAF, sorry, but two people still longing for another is NOT A GOOD SIGN, no matter how you spin it in a SJM book. That's not how she writes endgame couples. But given how much context I've seen them twist and misinterpret, it doesn't surprise me in the least they cant differiante what a red flag is in a book written by an author who uses adults themes to tell a story, it's like they can't grasp the purpose of Elriel, at all. When I see "why would SJM abandon Elriel after all this...ummm easy, there was never any real buildup to a true romance, y'all saw it for what y'all convinced yourselfs of it to be, they dont read between the lines, disregard a ton of context clues, or think critically when it comes to patterns and the kind of author SJM is (she to date favors mates) and interviews of her talking about Elain and Lucien and telling us in her own words, we can expect tension but growth and healing TOGETHER. It's funny how they conveniently forget that. I see why they try and stamp it out from existence for new readers but we have the receipts.

She has ended canon ships with on page kisses, sex and romance, and Elriels really think she won't let that almost kiss amount to nothing more if she wills it. If they were so confident in their ship, why do they bully, harass and attack anyone who disagree with them? They've bullied published authors, her best friends, her family, book community influencers, podcast hosts, made threats about her kids, e-mail BB NON STOP with threats, the receipts and videos all exist if you know where to look of their disgusting behavior. For a group so confident, they sure don't act like it.

With SJM, she tends to blur the lines when it comes to interactions between some of the characters so a lot of things look like something.

Lucien and Feyre had many scenes that could have strongly hinted at them being together. Nesta regularly wanted Azriel to train her instead, thought he was the prettiest of the three, and even imagined having a threesome with him.

In ACOMAF we found out Cassian slept with Mor and STILL thought about how absolutely perfect her face and soul were in ACOSF, we could easily use the multiple books of buildup for them too.

And the biggest example is the fact that Az has looked at Mor with longing, hunger and yearning for every single book he's been in.

Just because Elain and Az nearly kissed and they are physically into one another doesn't make their hints any more meaningful than the moments those other characters shared when they are still not proven as endgame.

If Feyre and Lucien ended up not together despite her feeling up his bare chest in ACOWAR and him stroking soothing lines down her back, if Mor looking at Azriel in a way Feyre couldn't decipher and him blushing and looking at her with hunger in ACOFAS didn't mean anything, if Cassian actually had sex with Mor yet now looks at her like a sister then there is currently nothing about E/riel that's proof of anything. They are simply two characters exploring an attraction and that could come to mean nothing in the end just as it did for so many other characters.

But that doesn't mean anyone had multiple books of buildup. It will only mean that if they end up together and as it stands, E/riel isn't looking good. Like you said, there are some very concerning red flags that exist for them that weren't there for others. Like the most raw and real thing we've seen E/riel discuss is her garden.

Where are the discussions about Graysen? Mor? Her being made? Her losing her father? His struggles with his heritage? Even Nesta had deeper conversations with Cassian before her book and 99% of their interactions were snarking.

There is no endgame couple without the two characters being very real with one another, as uncomfortable as that can be and E/riel just doesn't have it.

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hermajestyimher · 1 year

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Hi! I don't know if it's a good place to talk about that, but i found your tumblr and found it quite inspiring :)

Also I wanted to share something that happened to me 2 weeks ego: i broke it off with my bf of 1 year: (i am 24 btw)

For the history, i met him in january 2021, and it was really casual at first, i've never done that before, and looking back, i realise how toxic this kind of situation can be. We sas each other for 6 months without being actually together, and i only learned later that he saw 2 other girls at the same time... Then he left and i felt sad because i felt something for him that i thought was love.

When he came back from his internship 6 months later, we got together (huge mistake lol). From there, it was me giving a lot to someone who didn't reciprocated at ALL. For mis birthday i threw him a party with some of his friends that lived in other cities/countries, we got him a present + i got him one on my own. He left the party to go to this girl's party (i invited her to his birthday, she knew about it about 2 months before it happened)...

Then valentine's day came around, and i bought him a gift, wore a pretty outfit, because he said he planned something, the something being staying at his eating frozen food that he sut warmed up. I felt really sad because we almost only saw each other to sleep together or go out sometimes, but he never did once do something to surprise me or anything (literally never while i always did things for him) + i always had to go to his place, which was 1 hour away from mine.

He almost never answered my texts, always saying he was so busy with school work... but sometimes i saw on his friends story that he was out partying...

Came my birthday. To set it short, i got nothing but a "happy birthday". He wasn't even present that day, he got a party with his friends this very night.

Summer passed and we didn't see each other: i was at my family's in spain and he was with his, but again, communication was non-existant.

He got an internship in another city in september and almost demanded of me to come see him every week-end but: 1/ i didn't have that much money to spend on trains and 2/ my classes and homeworks took all my free time (i am in law school). And he was so mad about it. (also, i sent 1 or 2 texts per day and he didn't always answered because "busy").

The evenings, when i wanted to talk a little he always told me he bad things to do, and when he finished those things, he was always too tired and told me "goodnight im tired".

We went on a holiday together in october and i got to live with him for a week. And let me tell you, it opened my eyes for good: he did practically nothing, staying on the couch when we were in our rental, watching netflix (my account that i entirely pay, never doing laundry or cooking or washing the dishes or anything at all. Didn't even took care of himself.

So i demanded to meet him two weeks ago, and face to face, i told him everything that bothered me in this "relationship": the fact he never answered, that he treated me more like a friend he has sex with than an actual gf, the fact that he practicaly considered me as his mom/friend/sex friend/cleaning woman...

Some people might find it silly, but never receiving a single gift from him, even for my birthday or valentines really had me crying, because i felt so worthless.

I thought it was love, but i realised it was just a strong attachement to someone who always said 'i love you' but never once showed it.

It's only been 2 weeks, but i feel so much better with myself and my surroundings, i began doing things i love again, and improving myself in so many ways...

Just to say, i lowered my expectations for him, but i am not doing that for a man ever again. I won't be the one chasing. Not anymore.

(sorry for the typos, auto correct :') )

"It wasn't love but an unhealthy attachment to him" 🎯

I loved the ending of your story because you learned from your experience instead of trying to make excuses and going back to the same toxic behaviours. I genuinely hope you've continued to do great, because you deserve much better than that dush.

#asks and answers

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lover-i-lover · 2 years

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Memories

As Nico and I settle into bed, I'm twisting and turning way more then usual. I can hear Nico snoring beside me, and I try not turn onto him. I've been up since 5 this morning, so I stupidly thought that I won't have trouble falling asleep. After a rather harsh turn, Nico stops snoring. Fuck. "Jacey?" He asks groggily. I twist on my side to look at him in the darkness of night. "Mhm" I murmur, my head starting to ache in the not surprisingly hot Zeus cabin. "What's-" He start, a yawn cutting him off. "Up?" he asks, snuggling to keep his eyes up. "I can't sleep" I mutter out. A sleepy Nico shuffles closer and tucks himself into my body, wrapping his arms around my hips. "Bed" He murmurs into my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. "Could you lay differently?" I ask, holding Nico helps but I find sleeping a lot easier with a weight on top of me. He makes a sound of agreement. "Up?" He asks, detangling himself from me to resettle where I want him. "Yes please" I say. My tired boyfriend moves onto top of me, getting comfortable with his head in my neck. He rests his hands on my shoulders and hums into my neck. Sending another shudder down my back. The very last bit of stress is pressed out of me as he rests his body on mine. Nico is maybe ten kg smaller then me, but that's still enough weight to keep me down and calm. With Nico sleeping on me, I can't twist and turn anymore. I feel a lot safer sleeping with Nico. My body grows heavy, and I fall into a deep sleep.

Next thing I know, I'm back at Camp Jupiter, at my first training. They expected so much of me, I was Jupiter's son, I had to know how to fight. When I didn't take to it right away, everyone was disappointed. The sword drops from my hand and the other kids my age laugh and point. I remember running away in tears. I hid away into my bunk, crying under the covers. Then I'm thirteen again, standing in front of the whole camp, I'm holding a speech. The same speech the older campers always wanted me to repeat. I remember that standing there, on that stage, and just feeling the weight of the world settling on my shoulders. It was the first time I realized that no matter what I said or did, I would always be a son of Jupiter first, and a person second. I still feel that way a lot of the time. Never with Nico though. Nico treats me like a person, which is a low bar. But I have to admit, that's what made me fall for him, he actually cared about me, my feelings and my hobbies. Guess I'm just a sucker for anyone who treats me like person. The image changes again, I'm running into the forest at Camp Jupiter. I don't quite remember this. I'm, maybe eight. Crying, I climb up in a tall tree. What happened? I don't recall this at all. Everything else has been memories, why isn't this? A couple boys come running into the forest, their face are blurred and almost non existing. They all look around for me and yell for me to come. What is this even? I'm hiding in the treetop. There's something on my face, it that blood? Why is there blood on my nose? Did I get hurt? Did I fall? Did they do that? Fear sets in and my blood runs cold. All of a sudden, I lose my footing. This is a memory. Fuck how did I forget. I brace for the impact, but there's nothing. The forest is completely quiet. The boys are starring at up at me. I peel my eyes up and a shook of fear runs through my body. I'm floating in mid-air, legs curled up with my arms up around my ears. I hold back a scream and grab for a branch. I cultch my hands around it, and for some reason, I stay afloat. The time I figured out I could fly. The five boys run from me screaming. Gravity takes hold and I fall. I try to hold onto tree, but the branch is too fragile, and it snaps with the strain of my weight. I crash to the ground, the second my face hits the dirt.

I startle up in bed. Nico's rolled off me sometime during the night. My chest's tight, I can't breathe, it's like my throat is closing. I wrap my arms around myself, hands steady on my bare shoulders. I bury my head into my crossed arms. My heartbeat is drumming in my ear. It feels like I just ran from one end of camp to the other. I only notice that I've been rocking back and forth when I feel the blanket on the end of bed touch my legs. Fuck. I glace over to the alarm clock on my nightstand. 4:35, you have got to be kidding me. I have to be up in two hours. The sun is already slowly rising, making the sky a light yellow that fades to blue. "Fuck" I mumble sniffling. Warm tears roll down my cheeks. Through my blurry vison I look over at Nico, he's peacefully sleeping. Should I? I shouldn't. I wipe away the tears. Just because I woke up doesn't he has to get up as well. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, getting out of bed as quietly as I can. There's a cold sweat running down my back, I'm shivering. As I pull a hoodie over my head. I spot a window open, I didn't open any window. Maybe Nico opened it. I can go outside in sweatpants, right? Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I slip on my shoes, stopping by the door to hear if Nico's sleeping. There's a small, gentle snoring. Thank the gods I didn't wake him.

The door creaks a little as I open it. Just as I close it, I realize that leaving maybe isn't the best idea. If I go on a walk, and Nico wakes up, he won't know where I am, and then I'll get an earful for not telling him or leaving a note. Nico worries a lot, but I don't mind, most of the time anyway. I'm not going back inside, I need some air. I throw myself down the steps of the Zeus cabin. I guess I'll just sit here for a while. I breath in the sweet morning air. My heartbeat slowly returns to normal. Even though I know it was only a memory, the fear has settled deep in my stomach. More tears fight to fall, and I give up. I lay my head on my knees, the tears rolling down and soaking into the soft fabric. Fucking shit. I sniffle, wrapping my arms around my legs to stay stable. At least no one else is awake to see me like this. I hiccup, damn it. I rock a bit, trying to calm my nerves. I sniffle again and lift my head, dragging my sleeve over my wet eyes. I hear a small creaking behind me, did I not close the door properly? There's a small hand on my shoulder. I twist my head to look at him. A half sleep Nico is standing behind me without a shirt on. "What's wrong?" He yawns, tangling his hand into my hand. "Just a, bad dream. Bad memoires" I shallow down the cold worry that had set in my throat. He gently tugs my head up, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I'm sorry honey" He ruffles my hair then lets go. His sweet voice makes the fear in my stomach disappear. Another tear presses past my eye, and Nico's soft hand reaches down and wipes it away. "Come back to bed, it's too earlier" He pleads. I nod and push myself of the steps. As I stand facing Nico, he reaches up and slings his arms around my neck. He leans up and snuggles his head against my neck. "You'll be okay" He whispers and kisses my cheek. He gets down and laces his hand with mine. He pulls me back inside.

Sniffling, I close the door behind me. "Sorry" I mutter. "Don't you dare be" He yawns again, he never gets up this early. I've had to get up at four a couple of time, I'm a little mere use to it. A sleepy Nico spins me around to the side of the bed. "I love you" He murmurs pulling me in for a hug. I let myself sink into his arms, not bothering to hold back the tears. I mumble the same words back to him, but I don't think he can understand a word that comes out of my mouth. "You're okay" He whispers running his hand up my back. I sniffle, my nose is all stuffed up. A very tired Nico sits down on the edge of the bed, he gently tugs at my waist. I take the cue, shifting down with my legs on either side of him. His warm arms wrap around my middle. I cry into his shoulder, my tears rolling down his chest. "What was it about?" He asks, twisting a hand in my hair. "I, I-" I shake my head against his shoulder. I can't, it's too much. "Okay Honey, it's okay, I got you" He murmurs, gently running a hand up my back. He plays with my hair as we sit in the silence of an early morning. After maybe twenty minutes of straight up sobbing on his shoulder. I try to talk, but it's childlike babbling through even more tears. "Baby" He pleads, gentle hands pulling my head from his shoulder my cheeks. "You don't have to talk, okay?" He says wiping my tears with his thumb. "If you want, of course you can. But if it's only upsetting you more, then you don't have to, okay? I know it's hard" He reassures, leaning in and resting his forehead against mine. Tears roll down my chin, I whimper and throw my arms around my neck. We sit here for gods know how long. By the time I stop crying, the has risen into the morning sky, and my head is being spilt in half by a headache. "Come on, you need some sleep" Nico pats my back. Through still slightly blurry eyes I glace over at my alarm clock. Fuck, I can't. It almost 6 : 35, I have to get up soon anyway. "I, I can't" My voice is hoarser then I've ever heard myself sound. "I've class soon" I sniffle, I clear my throat and it hurts. "No, No you don't" Nico shakes his head, tugging me closer to him. "You didn't fall asleep until one this morning, and you been up since when? Four? " "4:35, I'm fine I should-"

"No" He says, getting a bit stern with me. "Bed" "Nico plea-" "No. You make me sleep after a night like this. You are going back to bed" He insists. I sigh, he's right. I do. Guess there's no way out of this. I'll tell Chiron later. "Could I have some water first?" I ask, wiping my runny nose on my sleeves. "Of course" He mumbles. I move off his lap and look for the bottle of water I brought back from dinner last night. I find it on my desk and down the half empty bottle. It feels like my head is being spilt open on sizzling asphalt. As I shallow the last bit, the tiredness takes it's troll on me and I stumble to my dresser. Nico's walking around, drawing the brand-new curtains he had the Hephaestus cabin install here so that I didn't have to walk to his cabin every time I have a migraine. I throw my now dirty hoodie off, it's covered in tears and snot. I dump it into my laundry basket and find a new one to wear. "Do you, want a shirt?" I sniffle. "Yes please" Nico makes his voice ten times lighter then normal. I laugh, finding an old hoodie of mine and throwing it in his face. "Hey!" He chuckles, bring his knee up to catch it. He pulls it on and walks over to me. "Come on, it is past your bedtime mister" He jokes patting me on the backside. I fake a gasp. "My bedtime? I have a bedtime?" I grab his shoulders. "Mhm, don't forget your naptime either" He leans up and kisses me. I let myself relax with his lips on mine, gently moving with him for a little bit. He pulls away. "Now no more avoiding, to bed with you" "I wasn't" "Yeah yeah shut it, bed" He says removing my hands from his shoulder. I sling my arms around his neck and tug him closer by it. "Mhm?" "You been up with me, so to bed with you too" I say. "That was the plan Honey" He mumbles letting me drag him to bed by his neck. As we tumble into bed together, Nico says something I don't quite catch. "What?" I ask, laying down on my side of the bed. Nico drags me into the middle and lays over me. "You are so" He bops my nose. "Cute" I feel a small blush come onto my already red cheeks. I pull the blanket over us. My eyes have grown very heavy and so it's no problem closing my eyes. "Jacey?" He mumbles "Mhm?"

"When you're ready to talk about it, I'm here. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know"

#jasico #jason x nico #nico x jason #jason grace #nico di angelo #heros of olympus #hoo #thunderworld

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moonlit-flowerfield · 2 years

Text

I made a RWBY AU a while back and now I'm back on my RWBY bend because beautiful art and stuff for it.

So enjoy me sharing the Bs stuff I made for it. Including art made from a basic body base for making clothing adopts and things like that. :D

I will prewarn, RWBY RP Twitter thought it was a p cool story so who knows how it works here.

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, talk about death, not exactly graphic but death specifications, and a lot of kinda dark things.

When Yang was young, she lost her arm to a random criminal who broke into their house while protecting Ruby. That was strike 1. Strike 2 what's when Summer died. The last straw was when she learned that Raven was still alive, but had abandoned her and Tai.

This all made for a terribly horrid child. She would lash out, bully, and harm others. She got grounded at about age 12 for almost stabbing Ruby.

Yang ran away that night, leaving her "family" behind. She didn't need them. She just needed to become stronger. Family was just a weakness.

About a year later, she met Cinder, who had just been found by Salem, and they became good friends. Cinder would train with Yang and help her with controling her emotional outbursts.

Around the time that Ruby meets Roman, Yang is hanging with Neo when Raven comes to visit. Raven tries to persuade Yang to give up the life of crime and villainy while Neo was out of the room. Yang, unamused, didn't allow herself to "fall" for Raven's words.

With Raven distracted, Neo snuck in and stabbed Yang's mother, before handing over the blade to Yang.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you," Yang asked her mother.

"Because you can't control the power I possess," Raven replied.

"All the more reason to kill you," Yang spat back, before decapitating her mother, gaining the Spring maiden powers.

Cinder learned about this, and took her to Salem, who immediately agreed for the two to become her maiden power bearers.

Meanwhile, RWBY without the y has a non named y character. Seasons 1-2 kind of run the same, but with the unnamed y character taking Yang's place. Around the time Qrow shows his face, Yang, Cinder, Merc and Em are all getting ready for the Vytal Fest.

Fast forward to the fall of Beacon. Ruby uses her silver eye power, and is just about to faint when Cinder calls for Yang. Yang went to Cinder and helped her, glaring at Ruby. "This is why family doesn't work. They get in your way," was all Yang said before Ruby fainted.

The only difference between seasons 4-6 is that Ruby now knows Yang exists and Qrow is ready to fight her, knowing that she killed his sister.

Then comes Atlas, where she pretends to be a "good guy" to sneak into the Army and get the lamp. It ultimately fails because Cinder and Neo show up, but she doesn't care. They were more family than Ruby, Qrow and Tai were.

She misses the chance to get the Winter maiden's power for either herself or Cinder.

I kinda only have that and I made it for an event thing so uh... Anyway.. here's the art and this is the link for the base.

It also has her basic info.

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Alliance: Salem

Weapon Name: Golden Fire

Height: 5'8 (1.73 meters)

Weight: 135 lbs (61.25 kg)

Semblance: Burn

Honestly, it's not much. This was the icon I made for the thing.

I made that then the full body thing. Eh. I'm working on things.

Anyway, it's cool, I guess. Might write things about it. What do you guess think? Lemme know. Yeah. Anyway. Bye!

#RWBY #RWBY AU #villain yang au #chaos #hello.#cw violence #cw death mention #cw death specifications

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chancellorxofxtrash · 2 years

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For the meme: 2 with Bulletstormship and LightJin, 3 with Ryoken, Windy, Vector, Lightning and Ai (if you don't mind doing them all)

Hello, ygo nonnie! Of course I don't mind! Will put them under a read more

Ryoken/Windy:

When I started shipping them: okay so Immi and I were talking about possible season 3 ideas, and I came up with the idea of Ryoken pairing up with Windy through convoluted means. The more I talked about it, the more I liked it, and the next I knew, I was attached.

My thoughts: I love it way too much. It started as a silly side-thing, and now I'm obsessed.

What makes me happy about them: listen! Listen! The idea of two guilt-ridden messes finding solace with each other! That's my shit!

What makes me sad about them: ALMOST NOBODY IS ON THIS BOAT WITH ME. LISTEN. THIS IS MY THING. PLS. THEY ARE GOOD.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: This would require more fics

Things I look for in fanfic: Existing. Also bickering.

My wishlist: I just wish more people would be on this train! Or if I'd have more plotbunnies for them. I miss them.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Uhhhh, they are clearly my preference for both of them. But I like basically the Ignis/Origins/Partners in a pile of poly.

My happily ever after for them: Being paired up and healing from their guilt and trauma!!

Lightning/Jin

When I started shipping them: This was a given. I love Ignis/Origin ships, this one is an Ignis/Origin ship.

My thoughts: CANON DID THEM SO DIRTY OH MY GODDDDDD

What makes me happy about them: I love them a normal amount your honor, and they are HAPPY TOGETHER I SWEAR

What makes me sad about them: >:(

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I don't know, I only read Lightning/Jin from people I trust

Things I look for in fanfic: FERAL JIN COMPLETELY ACCEPTING LIGHTNING AND LIGHTNING BEING TREATED WELL

My wishlist: FFFUUUUCCCCKKKK CANON

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: My priorities are always Ignis/Origin and Ignis/Partner ships, and this is technically both. But I always like the Ignis together and the Origins together too

My happily ever after for them: BEING PAIRED UP AND ALIVE AND HAPPY

And now the character ones

Ryoken

How I feel about this character: what a frustrating, frustrating boy. Loving him as an Ignis stan is frustrating. I want to wrap him into a burrito, and push him over.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Windy, Lightning (usually alongside Jin and/or Windy, but on their own too), Ai/Yusaku as a pair, Takeru, Spectre - most of them are in poly context because----- Oh and also, generally, all the Lost Incident kids are in love with him, I don't make the rules.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: even though I do ship him with Spectre, I also do love his interactions with Spectre in a non-romantic context too a lot.

My unpopular opinion about this character: his character development got fucked up. FUCK SEASON 3 REVOLVER, only the Takeru duel is good. Also, him pairing up with Windy would make perfect sense I HAVE AN ESSAY ABOUT IT

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: GET HIS FUCKING CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT FULFILLED AND NOT DANCE BACK TO "THE IGNIS ARE BAAAAAD". HE WAS CALLING AI BY HIS NAME IN THE END OF S2 AND THEN GETS BACK TO "DARK IGNIS". I HATE IT. Oh and also, teaming up with Windy.

Favorite friendship for this character: Does Spectre count?

My crossover ship: Well, Johan (GX) might end up kissing him in this WIP of mine, and in my Wind Kid Vector AU, Vector might also kiss him.

Windy

How I feel about this character: I LOVE HIM A COMPLETELY NORMAL AMOUNT I LOVE HIM

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Ryoken, Lightning, Flame, Wind Kid, basically all the Ignis/Origins/Partners in a pile.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Uhhhh. I like him with Lightning, regardless if he smooch or not.

My unpopular opinion about this character: He was always a gremlin. Like I don't like if people characterize him pre-Lightning as "oh he is soft uwu" whatever. Flame and Ai did not realize him acting different before he went absolutely homicidal. They didn't think him doing an asshole prank was out of character for him. HE WAS A GREMLIN.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: A L I V E

Favorite friendship for this character: Uhhhh, the Ignis, I guess

My crossover ship: I did make Vector kiss him for a damn good reason. Also Johan might kiss him too.

Vector

How I feel about this character: I'm so normal about this guy. So fucking normal. He's the worst. I adore him.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Yuma, Shark.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Mizael, Durbe

My unpopular opinion about this character: I... don't... know what's the unpopular about him? HE SUCKS. I LOVE HIM.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: We pretty much got everything what I wanted with him. I would have maybe loved to see more of him in the end?

Favorite friendship for this character: ...does he have friends? The rest of the Barians? I guess?

My crossover ship: Windy and Jin, lol. But I also want him to kiss the rest of the Lost Kids in my AU and also Ryoken. Because all Lost Kids are in love with Ryoken, and Vector is a Lost Kid in that AU, lol

Lightning

How I feel about this character: HE WAS RIGHT. HE DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER. I LOVE HIM.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Jin, Windy, Ryoken, Yusaku, basically the entire Ignis/Origin/Partner pile I mentioned before.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Bohman! His perfect man!

My unpopular opinion about this character: HE WAS PERFECT. HE WAS FUCKING 10/10. HE WAS RIGHT. Y'ALL ARE JUST FUCKING MEAN. And also, if he would have gotten a sexy android body in canon, people would love him way more.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: ALIVE AND WELL AND LOVED

Favorite friendship for this character: Uhhhhhhhh, I don't know. The rest of the Ignis?

My crossover ship: Huh, hadn't thought of it yet. Hm. I like the idea of him and Saiou, actually. Light-associated people who really should stop looking into the future and make rash decisions.

How I feel about this character: I. LOVE. HIM. HE'S SO GOOD.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: YUSAKU. Also the rest of the Ignis/Origin/Partners pile

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Shoichi!!!! Their bickering is great

My unpopular opinion about this character: HE WAS GREAT EVEN BEFORE HE BECAME A HOT ANDROID. YUSAKU FELL IN LOVE WITH HIM BEFORE HE BECAME A HOT ANDROID. I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. SO MUCH OF THIS FANDOM ONLY STARTED TO PAY ATTENTION TO HIM ONCE HE GOT A HOT ANDROID BODY. GODDAMNIT.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: ALIVE AND WELL AND WITH ALL OF THE OTHER IGNIS TOGETHER

Favorite friendship for this character: uhhh the rest of the Ignis

My crossover ship: I hadn't thought much of this one either. Don't really have any ideas. Whoever it is, gotta be together with Yusaku though, the two of them are a set! Do Not Separate! In my head at least.

#anonymous #ygo vrains #ygo zexal #still accepting asks for this meme btw

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kyrodo · 21 days

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Sometimes I wonder wyd now. Still treating people like ass, or somehow turning a new leaf. 4 months running btw. Me and Choskey with Red. I know Red does a lot for me, I just wish he had time to do anything other than work that I actually enjoyed. His style of gameplay when it comes to pvp games is head into danger and die also. Borderlands go off and die. Sea of thieves spend 2 hours burning the boat when I've been ready to hop off for the last 10 minutes. For a while all the scat jokes which were kinda gross. Constantly spamming planetside which feels like face planting into a train constantly.

It used to be that I would be nothing without the whuffitude, without the antics we've built up, but they relied entirely on each other to function. My affectionate interactions were not appropriate elsewhere ever and that was a good 80% of it along with Red being able to follow up on it but no one else would be able to. So I couldn't really use it socially until I got the cat avatar. And developed new interactions based on being cute even without Red being there.

I've been extremely dependent on Red. He spoils me hard, and does things or gets stuff for me on top of that and there's little I could do to equal it. But despite that it's hard to do stuff together. He's a workaholic. He's not much of a gamer. And when he does play I used to have trouble making time to use the bathroom or saying I want to do something else. Vrchat built up my confidence quite a bit. I'm not afraid to grab a soda or hop to the bathroom midgame if I have to. I am able to communicate my needs quite easily now. And I am able to socialize easily as well. At least more easily than I used to by a lot.

Red in all of that hardly ever joined us and even when he was in vr he was usually doing something who knows what. Somewhere along the way Red's capacity for social interaction greatly diminished, to the point it is almost non-existent. He still had more interaction than I did back then, minus my twitter problems. And that also played a huge role in me engaging in it in the first place. When I was frustrated about how socially absent my life was, I expressed it on Twitter one way or another.

I have no such needs now. Ever since vrchat my mood improved dramatically. My social life improved dramatically. And now my love life too. People outside my life might not understand or give a rat's ass what my problems are or what I was lacking, but I understand it quite deeply now. With time and with enough time to really think about it, plus the experiences that improved what I needed the most for a good long while now, *I* understand.

And I am no longer a tough act to follow either. I know how to express my thoughts and feelings without "weaving an illusion" or not saying what I mean. Because such a tool never served me well. All it ever did was get me hurt.

One important thing to consider is I took such retweets and subtexts seriously. There was always that few things telling me what I should be doing and I held myself to that standard thinking you were serious about it. Though perhaps in reality you didn't care nearly as much as I did about such things. Failure on such volatile information that could change at any moment to suit whatever serves you at the time is not surprising and I should've dropped you like a fucking glass the moment it started.

I learned how to protect myself from people like you. To the point I would be able to completely end any such interaction the moment the first flags appear, but it seems like I won't be needing it. I have the toughest shell made of steel and it won't get so much as a scratch. And yet the fact that I ever needed it in the first place always has me putting on more and more armor to the point I'm a living fortress. That is how trauma works in a nutshell. You develop all these protections obsessively to what once gave you a fight or flight response even when the trigger for it is long gone.

And yet it is through the development of these protections that I am able to stand so proudly now. Looking at my posts overall, even the angry ones and seeing how much sense they make now is oddly satisfying. And evident of the progress I made on myself. I know how whiny, self destructive, emotional and dramatic I was back in 2020, but every year I walk away from that I grow, and I have grown incredibly strong. I do enjoy my happy endings and even when it was seemingly made impossible for me by people that hated me so much they were doing the digital equivalent of breaking into my house, I still found mine anyway.

This art, and my vrc avatar, makes me realize how important it is to have a new look when getting over such moments. It makes me feel how far I've come. I am a being heavily susceptible to spite. But I can still turn it into something beautiful and meaningful.

0 notes

imfiguringitoutlovely · 3 years

Note

Hiii idk if I'm doing this exactly right but I thought it'd be fun!

This is kinda basic my baddd

Element

The user can control any element. The amount of air the user can use is limited to how long they can hold their air. The amount of water and earth they can control is dependent on how much they weigh. They can control about twice their mass. Earth is hard to control and is stubborn, strong forceful movements are needed to control earth. Water is delicate and needs precision to be able to control it to it's fullest. Fire is limited by how much energy the user has. Using too much energy will cause cells to die and lead to them passing out. They can't control the element if they have nothing to draw from.

No relation to the cannon

No relation to pre-existing characters

X class 1a can be platonic or romantic

class 1a with a lifebender that they will protect with their l i v e s

pairing: platonic!class 1a x gn!reader (they/them)

genre: fluff! fun!!

warnings: none!

author's notes: mhm! you did it right, and it's not basic! the idea is common, but the details you added make it very special and interesting! i had a ton of fun writing this :D

i also didn't add any relation to canon, but did make reader a child of a non-canon hero couple

ALSO YEAH I. I KNOW I NOW HAVE A PATTERN OF FOCUSING ON KACCHAN FOR A WHOLE LIKE THREE POINTS BUT IM LIKE IN LOVE? SO LEAVE ME BE-

expectations were fucking high, ok? you didn't have a choice as to whether or not you'd succeed; you HAD to.

not only were you the child of two very prominent heroes who happen to be alumni of UA themselves, but you had an incredibly powerful quirk.

hell, it was so strong that theorists started using it as a prime example of quirk singularity theory.

of course your quirk wasn't perfect, and if misused, the consequences were very dangerous.

this meant a lot of training and discipline on your part, something that all your peers of course needed and utilized but you had to do almost two times more. elements wasn't just any quirk, and that was clear during the initial training process in your new hero costumes.

there was half-hot, half-cold and now someone who could control the damn elements? jesus was that battle... interesting-

todoroki has the benefit of focusing on two areas, and both come soley from him, his body. you had to make use of what was around you, and you had four different areas to master. fair to say he was a bit more advanced than you.

that didn't mean you didn't catch him off guard when the ice was creeping up on you and your partner and suddenly it just went up. yes. up.

with patient, focused, graceful movement, you were able to manipulate his ice,, since it's literally just very very cold water. you weren't able to control all of it, but definitely a solid amount, snd the temperature left shoji, his partner, stunned for a few moments, almost literally frozen.

shoto eventually still got the W, but dAMN WAS THAT WILD-

you and shoto have this silent understanding throughout the rest of the year that this was a competition, though he was far more aggressive about it. you were still willing to be friends (and eventually you are) but for a long time he's like "im not here to make friends"

(sure you're not, you fruity son of a-)

you're kind, and a great leader, but you tend to sit back and mind your own business unless told to do otherwise. you're not there to be miserable, but you're not there to get into drama outside of the situations already planted in front of you.

you're a lot like shoji, ojiro, etc. in that sense, and everyone really respects that.

PLUS YOUR QUIRK IS FUCKING COOL AND EVEN BAKUGOU IS HESITANT TO FUCK W YOU-

and omg omg omg omg yes yes yES YOU AND KODA END UP VEING BEST FRIENDS AND YOU'RE NEVER. EVER. E V E R . gonna change my mind

yes, he's quiet at first, but my BOY HE OPENS UP TO YOU W TIME I PROMISE. he gets closer w people through quality time tbh and acts of service. yall work sooo well together, esp in different terrains! you can bring ocean animals to him like the waves in moana hehe and he can speak to the fish to get them to help yall 🥺

and the bugs in the earth!! and the birds in the air!!! and you work so so well together it's really great!!!!!

🥺 y'all can literally just sit in nature together, under a tree and feeling super connected to it all and to each other,, yes y'all are super ultra mega besties 🥺

people tbh entranced by your ability to go between the four elements. like the grace in your movements, your ability to go from fluid movement into strong, sharp movements to absolute peaceful focus and aH you're so cool. AND YOU GET SO MUCH BETTER AND SWITCHING THROUGHOUT WITH TIME

YOU FUCKING BOSS YOUR PROVISIONAL LICENSE TEST TBH LIKE 😳 YOU A T E FR 😭

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE SPORTS FESTIVAL, YOU LEFT NO C R U M B S. NONE.

HELL, YOU BEAT BAKUGOU'S ASS, YOU ALMOST GOT HIM TO TAP OUT AND HONESTLY HE'S KINDA SCARED FOR YEAR TWO SPORTS FEST

DEKU AND TODO TOO

yes, you're in the top four fs.

aizawa a lil scared tbh.

well like

the class is as time goes on. you keep getting stronger and stronger. but with this, cells were dying quick.

somewhere near the end of the first year, you were forced to begin a regular meetings with a very specific doctor who had a cell regeneration quirk. down the road, like mirio, you cross your fingers a little tighter on eri's quirk progress. ofc you kept it to yourself, though.

outside of that, you kept to your sessions. it still didn't stop the passing out when you pressed too hard, though, and it worried everyone. the harder you trained, the more often they happened.

so, in the same way they'd bOnk deku when he keeps breaking his damn bones, they are willing to bOnk you if you don't fUCKING REST-

REST, BITCH, YOU DESERVE IT,, YOU NEED IT PLEASE IT'S GONNA BE OKAY YOU DON'T NEED TO BE AT 100 ALL THE TIME :((((

but yes they love you v much

esp koda

hehe i love that...

oRGANIC OPPOS- 😭

405 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on.

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish.

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands).

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding.

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.”

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all.

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t.

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world.

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about.

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease.

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do.

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind.

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.”

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused.

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves.

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop.

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening.

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse social media au #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #fluff #wtf i have never been this soft no one hmu

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