#some semblance of help or comfort or support

[jules-hoard-of-stuff]

Vent under the cut about transphobia and panic and me being just upset

needed to get it out somewhere

"Reminder that trans healthcare is going out the window" "reminder that trans people are constantly in danger" "Reminder that everyone hates you" "reminder that" "reminder that" "reminder that-"

OKAY I GET IT. I FUCKING GET IT. WE ARE ALL IN DANGER CONSTANTLY. I AM IN DANGER. WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT IT?! WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO ABOUT IT. GIVE ME S O M E T H I N G.

I'm so fucking sick of "everything is terrible" there HAS to be something we can fucking do to save ourselves, there has to be SOMETHING. Please stop putting posts on my dash that are just "if you're trans, be prepared to die!" THAT IS NOT HELPING US. WE NEED SOLUTIONS. MAYBE THERE'S NONE BUT THERE HAS TO BE HOPE SOMEWHERE. I AM TIRED AND SCARED AND SLOWLY GROWING ILL FROM THE HATRED BEING POURED ONTO ME EVERY DAY. GIVE ME SOMETHING TO HANG ONTO. GIVE ME A BRANCH. A STICK. SOMETHING. A N Y T H I N G.

I'm so FUCKING tired. Please god. Stop just telling me nothing is going to be okay. Please. Please tell me something is going to be okay. Please.

Please.

please

i just want a crumb of hope

anything

#vent #tw: caps #tw: transphobia #im so fucking tired #please stop #please give me some kind of hope #some kind of peace #some semblance of help or comfort or support #im so #so tired #please stop telling me that im going to die in 2 weeks #please stop telling me that its all hopeless #there has to be something #this really isn't helping the fact that i'm trying to be myself and fuckin. get rid of my agoraphobia #I'm going to just... go to bed soon #im really tired of all this #i want to go to sleep and feel peace #not forever #just some peace please #this post was written by a transmasculine feminine man #this post was written by a trans person #this post was written by someone who is scared

[wordstome]

kosovo maiden (könig x reader)

Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)

I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!

2.2k words

There are soldiers in the field.

You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.

Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.

It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.

The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.

It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…

You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?

Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.

“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.

“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”

He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.

It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.

The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you’re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.

You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.

In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—

You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.

The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?

It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.

You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.

He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…

You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.

You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.

You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—

Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.

The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.

“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.

“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.

“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.

“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.

“What?”

He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.

“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.

You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”

He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.

“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.

You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.

“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…

“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.

He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.

You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.

“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”

You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.

You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.

You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”

You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.

You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.

But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.

ein Engel = an angel Wo bin ich? = Where am I? Muste pissen = had to piss Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad? Scheiße = shit Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place Mein Retter = my savior Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it

Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely

#könig #König x reader #König x you #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #I really need to sort out my tag list... #fic: kosovo maiden

[jingsyuans]

Hello! My first time sending you a request! (Since I fell in mad love with your writing I couldn't help myself)

But the thought of HSR men eating you out only for you to take initiative and flip them over, moving on top and grinding your cunt against their mouth has me spiraling.

Pussy drunk men gasping for air once you're done.

Thank you and I hope you have an amazing day! Feel free to ignore this if it's not interesting enough, huhu. ❤️

a/n: I added kafka because she is so :)

warnings: pussy eating! no pronouns but very obviously pussy owned reader, read at your discretion.

get your cake & eat it too! ft. jing yuan, gepard, kafka

Jing Yuan would absolutely adore this. He already enjoys eating you out as it is, he’d be the type to eat you without asking anything in return. He does it because he loves it and he loves how good he is at it HAHA and all the sounds you make for him.

There’s nothing better to someone like Jing Yuan than his lover taking their pleasure. He likes to be used :) just the feeling of you squeezing his head with your thighs is lovely, but when you suddenly sit up and force him over? Sitting on his face, all pleasantries and hesitation thrown out the window as you grind into his mouth and use him? Jing Yuan must really be the luckiest man in the world.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, his hands flying up to your thighs and groping the plush skin as he moans into your cunt and licks you up. He can feel his cock throbbing because oh you turn him on — but all he’s focused on right now is being a good seat for you as you reach your high, his hands slowly creeping up to support your lower back so you can lean on him and get as comfortable as you need.

And, haha. He’s making sure to lap you up all through your orgasm. When you finally lift off his face and let him breathe, Jing Yuan is merely pulling you back down onto him. Keeping his tongue away from your sensitive clit but licking into you instead, groaning, looking up at you hot and wanting. You’re not going to stop now, are you?

• • •

Gepard would be overwhelmed. He likes to take his time eating you out, really getting a taste of you. Maybe that’s why you got so impatient, flipping him over and shoving your hips down into his mouth. His eyes widen in surprise and he’s gasping, eyelashes fluttering when you grab his hair and pull. Of course he’s overwhelmed- and very, very turned on. Gepard would do his best to keep your pace, barely even processing how he’s moaning endlessly into your cunt as he sloppily eats you out and your juices smear on his chin and neck.

You’re worried for him- you just couldn’t help yourself, especially when he looked so good underneath you. When you lean your hips up, loosening your grip on his hair with a worried look- ‘was that okay?’ You’re surprised at what you see. Your boyfriend a pretty flushed mess between your thighs, panting for breath, eyes dazed. His large hands come up to your hips as he licks his lips. Savoring the taste.

‘Keep going,’ he urges you, ‘I want you to.’

After a sight like that, how could you ever refuse?

• • •

Kafka is the queen of eating out. THE QUEEN AND KING OF EATING OUT.

She’s teasing. She’s merciless. She’s the worst thing in the world but you just can’t get enough of her and Kafka knows it. Humming against your dripping cunt with a smile as she languidly swirls her tongue around your clit and fills you with her fingers.

You really had no choice but to try and get some semblance of control. And yes, you ultimately surprised her with the move you pulled as you flipped yourself on top of her. You almost got away with it too, nearly got your pussy on her mouth before her hands were on your hips and pushing you upward. Keeping you just inches away as she stares up at you, cocky grin on her lips.

‘Daring little thing, aren’t you? It’s cute that you think you’ve got control.’ She teases. ‘But I guess if you really want it that bad… go on,’ she tilts your hips down a fraction, hot breath fanning against your center. ‘Take it. Just know that I’m letting you.’

#jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #reader insert #hsr x reader #x reader #gepard #gepard x reader #gepard smut #jing yuan smut #kafka smut #kafka x reader #hsr smut

[communistchilchuck]

Mohammed reached out to me to help boost his fundraiser. He is a Palestinian medical student urgently raising money to evacuate his displaced 7-person family from Gaza. He has only made $7,260 of his $35,000 goal so far! Please donate, and if you can't donate, please share!

From Mohammed's GFM:

Hello, everyone, and thank you for reading my story. I am Mohammed Shamia, a fourth year student of laboratory medicine. I’m part of a 7 person family hoping to relocate to safety as soon as possible. Before the war, we lived happily in the comfort of our house in Sheikh Radwan in the north, devoting our lives to education and work.  

Shortly after the war started, our house was bombed, and we've since been displaced more than three times and lost all of our money. The seven of us now share a tent in Rafah. Our only hope of restoring some semblance of normal life is to evacuate. For over 150 days, we've lacked basic necessities. Among other things, we lack access to clean water, medicine, healthcare, and gas for cooking. Our evacuation is particularly urgent because my father can't access the treatment he needs his high blood pressure and heart disease. As I write you, the Israeli army's planned invasion of Rafah grows ever closer. We have lost everything we'd worked so hard to earn and build, and now have no place to go. ‏Your support and solidarity will give us a fighting chance of surviving and building our lives anew.

Your donations will pay the $5,000 evacuation fee for the following individuals:

- My father 

- My mother

- My brother and his wife

- My sister and her husband

- Me

#palestine #free palestine #gaza

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 4

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1793

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“You didn't eat.”  

You don’t flinch at the intrusion of his voice, not this time. While it was peaceful without his deep tone in your ear, you knew him finding you was inevitable, and honestly, you’re surprised it took him this long. Although, it’s possible that he didn’t need to find you at all; he could have been watching you from afar. Just because you haven’t seen his face in almost twenty-four hours doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen yours, and you’ve certainly provided him with an unobstructed view. But then you wonder why he hasn’t dragged you back to your room. 

You weren’t going to run. You just needed to see it, feel it, for yourself. Maybe that’s why he’s let you be; why he’s not scolding you until your brain melts. Maybe he knows that you won’t have logic overpowering your emotions when it comes to this, because even if you had some semblance of which direction to go in, you wouldn’t know what to do once you got there. To be anywhere other than here, like it or not you need him. You need his guidance and support, and worst of all, his permission.

“I ate some of it,” you confess. 

“Not enough,” he says. 

When he steps in front of you, his body eclipses the sun. The field around you untouched by his shadow still radiates its vibrant shades while you sit in the darkness he is creating. You look up, and his blond hair is glowing almost blindly from the backlight of the sun.

“Why are you out here, Angel?”

You turn your attention to your hand that’s nestled in the grass. “I had to see if it was real,” you say softly as you twirl your finger around a green blade.

He hums. “And are you satisfied with what you've found?”

Satisfied? You could scoff. What a foolish question; a disrespectful question. You can’t be satisfied with what you don’t understand. Feeling the dirt between your fingers and toes doesn’t provide you with the wealth of clarity he has been denying you. Clarity that you’re owed. 

“Come on,” he says at your lack of reply, reaching out a hand. “Out of the grass.”

“Tell me what this place is,” you say.

“I can explain it to you later. You’re not completely healed and we need to—”

“No,” you snap, meeting his eyes. “Now. Explain it to me now.”

Jake sighs, his hand dropping back to his side. “Angel—”

“I could become a lot more difficult, you know.”

He lets out a huff of a chuckle. Little crinkles form in the corners of his eyes. “Yes, I do know.”

“Then tell me.”

His smile settles. He mutters something under his breath before he glances over your head to the structure behind you. When you turn to get a look at what has stolen his attention, you find only an empty doorway. 

“You want me to like you, don’t you?” you ask, knowing that will draw him back to you. 

A blond brow raises in curiosity and suspicion. “This will make you like me?”

“It would help,” you lie. “The truth is important to me, and I don’t understand how you can expect me to want to be here if I have no clue what ‘here’ is.”

As he bites the inside of his cheek, you begin to worry that the promise of your affection is not a strong enough offer—that he might want more than just your words, he’ll want proof that you intend to follow through with what you say by your actions—but then he turns where he stands and lowers himself into the grass beside you. He’s close, and when his wing brushes over yours as he makes himself comfortable, he’s quick to pull it away, as if your feathers could set his aflame. 

Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before he rests his elbows on his bent knees. “It’s called The Tower,” he eventually says. “It was a prison, technically, until about two months ago.”

“A prison,” you repeat. “How fitting.”

He shoots you a look. You’ve offended him and you need to reign yourself in. “If you bothered to behave, it wouldn’t have to feel like one,” he informs you.

You hold back from rolling your eyes. You’re the textbook definition of a prisoner and you both know it. He can deny it to your face all he wants, but you have a right to feel like this place is a prison, even if it doesn’t exactly have the look of a prison. At least, not where you’re from. You don’t know of many ‘cells’ that include wardrobes, open windows, double beds with thick coverings, and fireplaces. Before you left your room you were imagining many possibilities for the cage you’ve been kept in, but among those were large estate or small castle, not a home for the naughty winged people.

“It’s awfully fancy for a prison,” you say.

“Our offenses weren’t so horrible.”

Our? 

Your brows almost shoot off your forehead until you take a half-second to soak it in and then accept the shame of being shocked. “Of course, you’re a criminal,” you say, nodding to yourself. “Did you kidnap a few other innocents and turn them into monsters, too?”

Jake doesn’t look you in the eye as he swallows hard, so you turn your head back to the horizon. “You’re not a monster, Angel. You’re perfect,” he tells you, then shakes his head. “But no. There were no others. I broke a rule—the same rule—a few times, which got me three separate six-month sentences in five years. Four months into my last one, the prison was dissolved here and set up elsewhere. Everyone was released; I stayed.”

Your brow pinches. “Why would you stay in the place you were captive?”

“I liked my room—well, your room right now. I liked the view. I thought it would be a good place for us once you joined me,” he says. “Secluded. Intimate.” 

Stomach flipping, your heartbeat gives a sharp thud. Instinctually, you think to move away, make an early retreat back to your room, but for once he’s actually answering your questions and you can’t sacrifice that in case you’re never given the same chance.

“What was the rule that you broke?” you ask. 

“Out past curfew, so to speak.”

“Out where?”

Jake goes silent, contemplating, then he says, “That's enough for now.”

But it’s not enough for you. “Out where?” you press to no response, so with a huff, you push off the ground to stand. 

He grabs your wrist as you’re about to take a step. “Sit,” he says. “I'll tell you if you stay.” 

Subtly smirking at the win, you return to the grass. 

Jake blows out a breath. “The Below,” he tells you.

“The Below…” You roll the words around on your tongue. They mean nothing to you until Jake makes a face like he might come to regret what he’s just done, and then they mean everything. “My world?”

Jake groans. “How many times do I have to tell you that that is not your—”

“You were there more than just that one time?” you interrupt, stunned that you momentarily forgot that your home is where he met you. It must have been the anger or fear or lasting daze from the week of pain, but somehow it didn’t register that you could potentially return as well. “How?”

“No more questions,” he scolds.  

“But I thought you wanted me to like you,” you counter. 

Shifting to sit on your hip with your legs bent at your side, you set your hand on top of his. He stares at the new touch, then his thumb begins to rub along the line of your index finger in soft, slow motions. 

He doesn’t stop his staring. He doesn’t stop his thumb’s gentle caressing. “Yes, I was there more than just that one time.”

Despite your carefully restrained excitement at the plethora of new information, you forget the game you’re playing and jerk your hand away from his just as he’s about to intertwine your fingers. “So you can go whenever you want?” you ask. “Then take me.”

At the demand, his teeth clench, jawline sharpening. “No, I cannot go whenever I want, and no, I am not taking you.”

“Why not!”

“Because you are right where you should be,” he says decisively. 

You feel his heightening irritation, so you quickly place your palm on his shoulder and slide it down to his toned bicep where it stays. 

“I just want to see it,” you tell him before you scoot yourself closer to his side, your hip a couple inches shy of pressing against his. He looks down to where your bodies are nearly touching, then back up at you. You try a light smile. “Please, Jake.”

His eyes lock on to your smile, your lips. He darts his tongue out to wet his own, and you prepare yourself for the kiss you’re sure he’s about to give you—a kiss you won’t say no to if it helps get you home—but it’s a kiss that never comes. He just thinks; drinks in your smile and thinks. 

The green of his irises in the sunlight is overwhelming when directed at you for such a long pause, and you don’t initially notice when he opens his mouth. 

“If you show me that you can listen to me and do as I tell you, I’ll consider it,” he finally says. 

Your head flinches back, mind immediately going to the worst of what he could want from you. “What will you be telling me to do?” 

“To start, you’re going back inside. You haven’t finished healing and because you took yourself on a little adventure, you stressed your wing and now part of it is inflamed. You need rest.”

You must have been so mentally preoccupied that you blocked out all physical transmission to your brain because it’s only when he says it that you feel the return of the ache.  

“And you’re going to eat,” he continues. “Everything, this time.”

“Fine,” you relent. 

“You’re going to wear something made of more comfortable fabric than that,” he gestures to your smock, “And you’re going to stop arguing with me over every damn thing. You can’t change what’s been done, so being pissed at me doesn’t do you any good.”

It takes extra effort to muster up an agreement to that last one. Your swallow you can only compare to trying to get down a sponge soaked in wet cement. “Fine,” you grit out.

“Fine,” he says, standing. He extends his hand out toward you again. “Let’s see if you’re capable of behaving, Angel.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me @eloquentdreamer

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #demon!jake seresin x reader #top gun au #tgm fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst

[blueberry-pride]

Referring to this~

OMG! I read the Q&A but IS IT TRUE? Im so excited 😳👉👈 Ummmm may i req then? Not for the event, but just a general req 😌 A scenario/hcs of Leona with fem!s/o where s/o needs comfort & gets spoiled cz she's having burnout due to all of the incidents on NRC~ I hope this is not too much, if u want to change the plot it's ok, thank u & have a nice day 😳✨

I See Right Through You...

Leona x FEM! S/O

warnings: leaning on to very angsty, cursing, personal issues

Berry: I'M FINALLY BACK AA-💀 just wrapped up some things and you should have some of the requests from the events roll around within the month or so 😣 I changed a bit of it but the overall theme is the same just something that hits a little too close to home ;=; Special Thanks to my lovely friends Len and Luna who helped me out with this one ❤️❤️

"This isn't me wanting some semblance of pity, You can keep it for all I care- I'm so goddamn tired but did I ever ask to be in Twisted Wonderland? Oh don't get me started..." "Did I ask to be Crowley's clean up crew? Did I ask to be in the middle of every. fucking. issue?"

"Sometimes I'd like to be the damsel-but sevens forbid the woman wanting to be saved from all the stupid stress of this world."

"Well I'm so sorry for complaining over a job I didn't ask for but hey- we're in a magical school full fun and dreams, cuz that's sure to make up for ALL the unnecessary emotional and physical labor!" Your voice cracked as you forced a cheery smile.

Leona wasn't expecting you to snap at him when he wanted to mess with you for just a little bit. He had observed you from afar for quite some time now. And most importantly, he wasn't a stranger to people putting up a face for other's sake.

His emerald gaze would glint over your figure as he studies the creases in your eyes from all the work you've been doing. He'd always wondered how much you could take, often times giving you snarky or witty advices in hopes to get you out of your doormat cycle.

He admitted what the Head-mage was doing is a bit too far. He was kinda impressed on how you pushed on with that fiery and stubborn heart of yours.

A sadistic part of him wanted to see when you'll break

He wanted to see you bite back

He anticipated it even more when multiple students come to you for help increased by the day;

You nodded along as Ace and Deuce were once again asking help in doing their chores back at Heartslabyul, you laughed it off as one of their usual antics.

You happily agreed when Kalim invited you to one of his many celebrations despite just finished with your cleanup at Ramshackle, your smile didn't reach you. Those glassy eyes of yours, shifting downwards to hide the reluctance.

It was an asshole move of him in all honesty.

Not lending out a helping a hand but he knew you were capable. For fuck's sake you got him AND his dorm to help you out during Azul's little "tantrum".

He wanted you to overcome this on your own. However, he had an oversight on how much you can take on the world alongside his bullshit attempt of support.

Leona had happened to pass by a class with the door wide open, his lions ears perked at the ongoing conversation.

"Phyn, you're in our group." One student spoke up. "Oh hell yeah, thanks dude!" Another cheered, followed by the sound of a high-five.

"-And I guess that's everyone.. Oh (Y/N)..hmm I guess you and Grim would be a duo, every other's group is already filled up." "Uh.." You chuckled with a loppy smile. "No worries, at least I get to stay in my dorm this time." The class chuckled at your comment and nodded along. As the groups filed out chatting amongst each other, he took lighter steps walking closely behind you.

It wasn't until you reached the entrance of Ramshackle is when you finally noticed him. Which led to the situation right now. "Why the long face herbivore, where's the can-do attitude I know and adore~?"

Your hands balled into fists, shaking as tears were running down your eyes.

"This isn't me wanting some semblance of pity, You can keep it for all I care- I'm so goddamn tired but did I ever ask to be in Twisted Wonderland? Oh don't get me started..." "Did I ask to be Crowley's clean up crew? Did I ask to be in the middle of every. fucking. issue?"

'Shit...' He said mentally.

"Let's...do this inside. We don't want anyone gawking at ya like this." He laid a hand behind your back inside and joined you not before he scanned the area for any curious on-lookers.

He leaned against the side of the wall of the living room, listening to your continued rant. Throwing hands and even had the strength to throw away the innocent coffee table in the middle, Its legs breaking into splinters as soon as it hit impact onto the cold hard floor. "-WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME WHO HAS TO FIX THINGS?" You exclaimed towards the pillow you threw towards the ground.

"Helping fix things is nice and all.." You sniffled. "But is it really so wrong to want that shit in return?"

He knew it was bad but he wanted to see how far you're flames would burn him. He wanted it to hurt-what you've been going through, he knows he can take it.

"You're ranting to the wrong person, go off on Crowley, yell at your classmates for ignoring ya. Tell that red-head and blue-haired friend of yours to fuck off and do their own stupid chores." "Be fucking selfish for once herbivore, Treat yourself to a nice nap-"

"-Oh what? like you? I'm not you Leona." You retorted back. "For fuck sakes you were born here-you were supposed to exist in this plane of existence while I got chucked out of mine." "You say I exist here but I'm one of the least wanted given my 'cheery' attitude. At the very least I know when to stand my guard." You huffed as you sat on the couch, tears still spilling from your eyes. "Is this your way of helping me? because I could clearly feel the love right now..." Leona let out a dry chuckle as he walked over to you. His imposing figure casts a shadow over you but as you gaze at his eyes, there was a lingering feeling of warmth. "Dont be like me." He shook his head. "Sevens, I hope you don't end up like me, but what I'm trying to say is..." His voiced trailed as he looked at your shaking form.

A memory sliced through him for a second. For a brief moment he saw his little self all those years ago in the visage of you. "In a campus full of these jackasses in NRC-including myself sometimes, I... I see right through you." He awkwardly patted your back. "I know it sucks but don't do that shit to yourself where you thought 'hey, I know who to look for if I'm in a room full of folks I adore, but who would look for me?'" Leona had a distant look as he stared at the broken table in the middle of the dorm. "Look for yourself first, look for that little corner of your room to be selfish with what you want to do. Worry about the details later." You cleared your throat as you steal a soft glance at him "You may not be the best and most unlikely to look for advice." The air seemed to change as the both of you share a soft laugh. "But you get right to the point...even though you could've done something much earlier." "What's the fun in that?" He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, You don't need a king's help in chess, a queen...has all the moves she needs."

Leona was surprised to hear your melodic laughter, belting out through your still falling tears at his small comment. "Oh my God Leona you did not just-" You wiped a tear as you smiled at him. He felt a flutter in his chest from the way you're looking at him now. "Well you did just say, I'm not the best." He smirked.

The tense feeling in his shoulder now dissipated as he settled himself on the couch strangely close to you, a tiny voice inside him wondered why. Seeing you smile even though you just murdered the poor coffee table not too long ago is a sign to him he did his job.

It's certainly weird but it's you. People may not look for you or choose you in a room full other characters from their lives, but you can trust that there's always a lion beastman just out in hallway, willing to stand with you through it all.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twstファンアート #twst edit #twst wonderland #twst savanaclaw #savanaclaw x reader #savanaclaw #twst leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst headcanons

[sl-vega]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ SUNSHINE ON A RAINY DAY

Pairing: Karasu Tabito x [FEM!] Reader

Genre: fluff, comfort, angst (?), canon compliant if you squint, mainly an au tho, oneshot/drabble

Synopsis: in which you get stood up by your asshole of a date, and a certain crow-looking boy comforts you

CW: mild language, ooc karasu (?)

Karasu set his phone down as he rubbed his temples. He was sitting down on a bench outside of a local coffee shop. The smell of the rain surrounded him as the downpour continued falling.

It was a slow, boring, day. Practice was cancelled, and most of his friends were busy. Otoya had several dates planned for the day, and Hiori's parents never let him go out with company unless it was for soccer.

He sighed gazing up at the grey clouds. The droplets just barely missing his eyes.

Today was far less than mediocre

He thought. Watching the clouds move by, little by little. Just barely moving.

Maybe I should've taken up Otoya on that double date offer...

He groaned, looked back down at the stores and shops surrounding him, he wasn't expecting anything to have changed during his cloud-watching session.

And he certainly wasn't expecting you.

You were drenched by the downpour, hugging yourself for some semblance of support. He noticed your tear stained face and your puffy red eyes.

He also noticed how fucking gorgeous you were.

You were dressed up. Like really dressed up. Bedazzled dress, fancy heels, and makeup that probably took you hours. Must've been on a date or somethin' he thought.

Even from a distance, he could tell that you were freezing. He couldn't help but feel sorry for you. So, like the gentleman he was, he approached you, umbrella in hand.

You hadn't noticed him yet. You were leaning against the outer wall of a book store. Your body was trembling, and he could see your chest rapidly rise of fall from your shallow breaths.

He placed his hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him, your eyes were glassy from your tears. Now that he was closer to you, he noticed a lot more details about you.

He noticed he way your dress clinged to your body due to it being soaked by the rain. The way it showed off your curves and how-

God he was staring wasn't he?

He cleared his throat, realizing his hand was still on your shoulder, he swiftly moved it away not wanting to make you more uncomfortable.

"You okay?"

You shook your head, averting eye contact. He lifted his umbrella over your head. He could still hear your faint sobs. He didn't know why, but he felt a strong urge to make you feel better.

You were still shivering, so he unzipped his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You whispered a quiet "thank you" to him as he fixed the garment to make sure that it wouldn't fall off.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? I don't want you getting sick 'cuz of me." You said, finally speaking up.

Even your voice was pretty

He thought, first time hearing you speak but he would kill just to hear you talk again.

"Eh, I've been through worse." He shrugged, attempting to sound nonchalant. He noticed you grip onto the jacket, making sure that it wouldn't fall of your shoulders.

"You have somewhere you need to be?" He asked, keeping the conversation afloat.

"I'm on my way to the station." You replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"What a coincidence, I'm heading there too."

Lies, your house is a five minute walk away from here, why are doing all this for a girl you just met? She probably thinks you're a creep.

You smiled, it was small, barely noticeable but it was adorable nonetheless. He gestured to the other direction, right where the station was, and you followed.

As the two of you walked side by side, you spoke up again.

"Thanks again, um...?"

"Karasu."

"(L/N)."

If he were Otoya, he would've said something corny like "beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Thankfully he didn't, but he settled for a simple: "Hm, pretty name." He watched your cheeks dust with a rosy hue from the comment.

Easily flustered too huh?

He made more mental notes about you, he didn't know why he found you so fascinating, or why he was so curious about you, all he knew was that he wanted to know more.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, the pitter patter of the rain filling both of your senses. Karasu looked over at you.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Guy I was seeing stood me up."

Your once peaceful expression reverted back to it's down and mopey face. He didn't know what to say so he opted for the usual.

"Sorry to hear that." He felt guilty for using the usual phrase that he told most of Otoya's sidechicks whenever one of them found out that there was "another woman".

"Don't be." You replied, sniffling. "I honestly should've seen it coming. He's got a reputation." You said, bitterly, chuckling.

"What made you stay?" He asked, now curious.

"Same old, same old, I thought that I was "different" or that I could "fix" him." You rubbed your temples, sighing.

"Were the two of you close?"

"Very, at least that's what I tell myself."

You sighed again, and Karasu felt guilty for bringing it up, especially when you were feeling fine a few moments ago.

"This guy reminds me a lot of someone I know." He said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. "I've been roped into several of his problems." He groaned, recounting all the times he had to cover for Otoya.

You chuckled. "Do tell."

"We're gonna be here for a while then."

"I don't think I'll mind as long as you're here."

You smiled.

Were you flirting with him?

You grabbed his hand and your fingers intertwined, you were still smiling.

Oh God, you were definitely flirting with him

Partially a gift to the lovely @latay7 who has indirectly motivated me to make more bllk content

#karasu x reader #karasu tabito #karasu tabito x reader #tabito x reader #bluelock x reader #bluelock x you #bluelock #otoya eita

[teyamsatan]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter IX: Seven

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

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

Synopsis: As your life comes to an end, someone you never thought you'd see again helps both you and Neteyam navigate your past and future.

Warnings: pure angst, mentions of death, mental illness, addiction, self-injury, no mentions of Y/N, cursing, some fluff, a lot of crying, like too much crying honestly

Word Count: 9,3k words

A/N: The second to last chapter is here, and with it also comes the beginning of the end. I am honestly so sad at the thought of this series finishing, I have spent every minute of my life thinking and living in it, and I am not ready for it to end (wink wink). This chapter was the most emotionally draining piece of writing I have ever done, but I am so happy with the way it turned out. I hope you like it, and that you find some comfort in this story, the way I found comfort in writing it and sharing it with you. I am so so excited about the last chapter, and I will start writing it right away. As always, thank you so much for engaging with my work and for all the support, I loved reading your comments and asks so so much, they make my life honestly. (Pls listen to seven by TS when reading this, I think it will enhance the experience x also jake saying babygirl does things to me ok byee x )

“Please, picture me in the trees, I hit my peak at seven Feet, in the swing over the creek, I was too scared to jump in Please picture me in the weeds, before I learnt civility I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted ...Are there still beautiful things?”

Neteyam left the clearing with so much anger it could be mined as a new energy source. He couldn’t believe this, couldn’t believe you. He was losing you, over and over, and now will lose you permanently. His heart bled so much, he didn’t think he could make it back to the village in the state he was in. He spent the last month of his life, the last month of your life, training you, ignoring his feelings for you, having dinner with another woman, when he should have been loving you, helping you heal and checking in on your human form, that he spent his whole life with and then abandoned for your Avatar. You took everything from him by keeping this a secret. His whole life, his future, the chance at any happiness or hope or trust in loved ones. He would never forgive you for this. You robbed him of everything and your death will bring his own, maybe not physical, but spiritual and emotional. 

He didn’t want to go back to the village, couldn’t go back to the village. He couldn’t hear it, couldn’t hear them talking about you, about your death, he couldn’t see them cry and mourn, for the woman he will love as long as his beating heart was still pumping blood, and not die, not collapse due to the overbearing weight of his broken soul. There was only one place he thought to go, only one place he might find any semblance of peace: Vitraya Ramunong, the Tree of Souls.

Norm and the Sullys were still in the tent, discussing ways to get you to accept the consciousness transfer, brainstorming every possible idea, even thinking of literally tying you to a bed and pumping you with the drugs that they knew would buy you, buy them some more time to change your mind. They all jumped at the screech that came from just outside their tent, and Jake got his gun resting by his side and saw the rest of his family arming themselves with bows and knives at the ominous sound. When they made it outside, they were shocked to see your ikran, a beautiful beast, batting her wings aggressively and hissing in their direction. 

“What is it, girl?” Jake said, approaching her carefully and petting her head gently. The ikran opened her mouth and took Jake’s hand in hers, which elicited a furious reaction from Neytiri, to which Jake raised his other hand in a calming gesture.

“She’s not hurting me, she’s pulling me away, towards the lab. I think she’s trying to tell us something.” 

His heart dropped at the thought of what could your ikran be wanting to show them so ardently, so urgently. He has never seen such behaviour from a banshee, and he realises painfully how much of an imprint you have made on this world, on life all around you. He wishes this world would have made as much of an impact on you, maybe if it had, you wouldn’t want to leave it so soon. 

Jake got on the banshee without making the bond, and she immediately took off. 

“Take the Ikrans or Pa’li and hurry to the lab, I have a really bad feeling.”

The last thing he saw is his entire family calling for their animals, the hurry and desperation enveloping all of them like a warm, suffocating blanket. 

The banshee landed in a small clearing with a river source in the middle of it. It was a beautiful place that Jake has somehow never stumbled through before, but he couldn’t think about it too much when another, more urgent matter caught his eye. A small and fragile frame, motionless on the ground. 

“KID!” He jumped from the back of the ikran like it was lava, and ran as quickly as he possibly could, kneeling on the ground next to you. His face immediately went to your masked one, trying to see if he could spot breathing. Two fingers rushed to your throat, looking for a pulse he couldn’t feel. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, don’t do this to me, baby girl. Come on, please.” 

He removed your mask and starting giving you CPR, his two hands wrapped around each other in firsts as he rhythmically compressed your chest in the spot right on top of your heart. Thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths. He was trying so hard to remain calm and collected, but his mind was screaming with the image of you on the ground, dead or dying, he still didn’t know, alone, and he felt tears pool in his eyes. You have been alone for such a long time, and he was right: he never tried to understand what you must have been going through, how hard this life must have been for you on this planet your body didn’t belong on, with a soul so bright and wild that was continuously tamed by the fury of your own destiny, with which you battled your whole existence. Losing your mum changed you, finding your dad in the woods broke your spirit, and losing Neteyam took away the last shred of happiness you had, and they watched. He watched, unknowing and ignorant. He will never forgive himself if you died here, in his arms. 

He was continuing the CPR when his eyes snapped at something moving above his head. Jake stopped the chest compressions at the sight. Atokirina, dozens of them, floating down gently and peacefully until they reached your body, where they settled for a few seconds, before they all took flight again concomitantly. Jake thought that was a good sign, and, in a desperate attempt to add on to Eywa’s efforts, he brought up his fingers together in a fist, and with all his might, hit your unmoving chest, saying a silent prayer in his mind as he did so. 

With wide eyes and laboured breaths, Jake saw the small girl he’s known since she was born come back to life with a violent gasp. You immediately started coughing breathlessly, and Jake put your mask back over your face. He pressed a button and allowed you to take a few short, pained breaths. He felt relief wash all over him, but he knew he needed to go; you weren’t breathing properly, and he saw your face slowly turning purple. 

“It’s okay, baby girl. You’re going to be okay.”

With very little effort, Jake lifted you from the ground and carried you in his arms, running as fast as he could do without disturbing you even further. He couldn’t help wince as he was looking at your body, so weak and feeble, so different than the one he remembered. How did this happen? How did Norm and Max allow this? 

He made it to the lab shortly, and saw the whole family waiting for him there. Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk all let out a shocked gasp at your lifeless form residing in Jake’s arms, but he couldn’t think about that now, he couldn’t worry about anything other than making sure you will survive this. 

Norm and Max let him in with their keycards and motioned hurriedly in the direction of the medical ward. He knew where to go, having been there a few times with soldiers who were sick, as well with his own kids when they got illnesses the Tsahik couldn’t cure. He hurried past all the hallways and entered and put you down as gently as he possibly could. Norm and Max burst through the door, getting all sorts of instruments and machines ready that Jake couldn’t name with a gun to his head. He silently got out of the way, and let them do what they did best. 

He got out of the room and grabbed Tuk in his arms, holding her tightly when she nuzzled her head in his neck and started silently sobbing. 

“What is going on?” Kiri, one of your best friends in the whole world, your sister, asked through shaky breaths and hushed cries. 

“Ma 'ite…” Neytiri said softly, hugging her kids close to her chest. 

“She’s sick, isn’t she? Like the people in the village?” 

“Yes, my sweet child.”

“But those people died.” Tuk said in between high pitched whimpers. 

Jake and Neytiri exchanged a knowing, sorrowful look, and tightened their grip on their children. 

Neteyam found the Tree of Souls to be deserted, as most Na’vi would be gone hunting or preparing for the upcoming war this time of day, or just taking shelter from the rain that has been pouring for days with no seeming intention of stopping. He knelt on the ground and peered up at the bright pink and purple tendrils of the sacred willow, taking in the beauty that he is yet to get over, even after coming here his whole entire life. A pained cry escaped his lips at the realisation he will never be able to show this to you. From the second he saw your Avatar body, dreams invaded his subconscious mind, dreams of when you would finally become one of the people, dreams of your soft hair bouncing on your beautiful back while you ran beneath the tree, dreams of his finally being able to make you his, the way he has wanted for so long. You were supposed to become one of the people, you were supposed to be his, his mate and the mother of his children, his Tsahik, the best Tsahik this clan had ever seen. How the fuck was he supposed to come to terms with this heartbreak, how was he ever supposed to be the same person again? You were in his life from the moment you were born. You were born just a couple of months apart, as if Eywa couldn’t wait any longer to join two souls who were meant to be. He couldn’t remember a day in his life when you weren’t there - even if not physically, you were always in his life, in his mind, your light forever permeated through every cell in his body. You were the only fact of life he was sure of, how was he supposed to live without you?

“I have another quote that reminds me of you, though.” 

Patting the spot next to you, you signalled for him to lie down. He did, although his legs were completely off the bed, the tiny contraption barely able to accommodate his torso. You let out a small laugh, but seemed happy to have him so close. 

You placed your head on his chest, and he prayed you couldn’t hear the way his heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest at your proximity and warmth. You opened the book and looked for the quote. 

“Ah, there is it.” You cleared your throat, then continued. “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

“I like that.” He felt bashful at your admission of how you viewed him. You were always braver than him when it comes to your feelings. You never said them out right, but you always gave enough proof through moments like these, when you would sing a song, or read him a section of a book you thought resonated with you.

“Read more. Is there anything else in that book that reminds you of us?” 

You blushed, but flipped through more pages. You have him a knowing look, and read from the book you gripped on so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. 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: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.”

He couldn’t help think of that quote, and how deeply you both felt for each other, how this world is dull and senseless, meaningless and bleak without the other. “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”. He never quite understood the magnitude of this quote until today, when he stared at your dying body, until he was here, kneeling under the Tree of Souls, knowing soon you might not be part of his universe anymore, willing to beg Eywa until his knees bleed for another chance, for one more try. 

“Great Mother,” he starts as he reaches for the queue and brings it to one of the tendrils he was softly grasping in his hand, “I need your help. I’m begging you for help.” 

His queue wraps around the mauve willow branch and he inhales faintly at the bond, as he is transported across dimensions, to another plane of being, higher than any living thing had access to except in this way.

He woke up in the last place he thought he would, the lab. The damn lab, with its white, too-white walls and a smell that always burned his nostrils and a coldness that he would never get used to, no matter how many days he has spent here in his life. Without you in it, it was unnatural and unwelcoming, and he didn’t want to be here a second longer than he needed to.

“Ma 'itan.” he heard a voice call out to him from inside one of the rooms, and he made his way slowly towards it, feet hurting from the biting temperature of the smooth tiles. He passed a mirror that was hung on one of the walls, and was startled to see himself in it, only it appeared more like a window to the past, as the face looking back at him was young, no older than 10. 

He continued on, and eventually reached it. It was dark, except the light from a computer screen and one desk lamp gently illuminating the room. Sat on a chair was a woman, beautiful and elegant, with light curly hair that reached her torso and kind features, that reminded him so much of her daughter, so much so that it made his heart constrict in pain. 

“Neteyam, my boy, it’s so good to see you!”

“Auntie Jo?” 

“You’ve grown so much, ma 'itan. You’ve become a handsome young man.”

“Auntie Jo, what’s going on? Why am I here?” 

“You’ve come to ask for help from the Great Mother. The Great Mother doesn’t take sides, son, you know that. She protects only the balance of life.”

“Yes, and her life hangs in the balance. I need Eywa to help, I need Eywa to save her, because her life has never been balanced. There’s never been anything fair about her life, and this second chance is the balance. It’s what she deserves, a lifetime of happiness to make up for all the hurt the Universe has put her through.”

“I see you are still my daughter’s angel, even after all this time. You always took care of her, from when you were both babies. We used to put you in the same crib and you would go to sleep holding hands. You both used to cry whenever it was time for us to return to the lab. Eventually, we had to give you a piece of clothing of the other, so you could sleep peacefully through the night. I always knew you were supposed to end up together. It’s part of the reason I worked so hard to decode the Avatar for her.” 

“She’s dying. She’s dying and there’s nothing I can do! I need you to help me save her, I need to do something, I need something to stop the way it feels like I’m being ripped apart at every seam in my body. I have never known such pain, I never knew it was possible for a body to hurt so badly from a wound that doesn’t even exist.” 

The woman rose from the chair and took Neteyam in her arms, allowing him to place his head on her shoulders and cry. Neteyam tightened his arms around her and held her, crying, releasing all the grief he was feeling for his love, for his future, for her.

“If you feel it, son, then it exists. If you feel her, then she exists, and she will exist forever. In truth, there is nothing any of us can do, except love her and be there for her. My daughter has grown so much, and so much grief grew along with her. And she learnt how to let grief grow until it is so big it cannot be contained within her body from me. But there’s still time for her to grow, too. Grow bigger than the grief. She needs you, Neteyam. She needs you to be her light one last time. She needs you right now. You should go before it’s too late.”

Neteyam woke up like from a dream and removed his queue from the tree so quickly it hurt him and he felt the pain travel all the way to the tip of his toes. It didn’t matter, he thought. He could be scalped right now and he would still be calling his ikran with enough might to wake up the entire forest. As soon as she arrived at the foot of the tree, he got on her and motioned for her to take off, no other thoughts than the words your mother uttered echoing in his ears. I need to get to the lab, fuck, I hope I’m not too late. I can’t be too late. It can’t be too late.

He completely spaced out until he reached the lab, so it was like he blinked and he was there. He saw your ikran next to the entrance of the lab and felt his pulse quicken so fast he almost fell off his own with how faint it made him. He knocked on the door forcefully and incessantly until Lo’ak came and opened it. His baby brother’s eyes were red and damp and he looked sick and tired; Neteyam couldn’t remember the last time he has ever seen Lo’ak in this state - he didn’t think he ever had. The lump that formed in Neteyam’s throat stopped him from speaking, and he looked at his brother with desperation laced on every feature, silently pleading to be put out of his misery.

“She collapsed outside the lab. She was in a clearing a few minutes from here. Her ikran came to the village and took dad to where she was, and he brought her here.”

Lo’ak started crying again, bringing a hand to his face to hide himself, and Neteyam took him in his arms and hugged him. 

“She was dead, bro. Dad said she was dead. Her heart stopped and he managed to start it back up again, but she has been in the room with Norm and Max for a while, she won’t wake up. She’s been sick for a month and we didn’t know. I didn’t know!”

Neteyam let Lo’ak cry it out, feeling his own hurt being pushed aside at the sight of his baby brother needing a shoulder to cry on. He couldn’t be weak when his family needed him. 

Eventually they made their way down the corridor until they reached the rest of their family, and he saw it, saw you, and it immediately made his sick. He’s struggled to keep down whatever food he still had in his system at the terrorising sight - you, lying on a white framed bed, unconscious, with tubes coming in and out of you, so many tubes he was losing count. He saw the tubes coming out of machines that were beeping, and one of them was removing blood from your body and then pushing it back in, and Neteyam felt weak in the knees taking it all in. 

FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE IV: BARGAINING

You woke up in a daze, feeling heavy and numb, like that one time you were 16 and you took one too many sleeping pills and you needed 3 days to ride out the consequences. You frowned deeply at the bright artificial lights that were bearing down on you, and you realised you were in the medical ward of the hub. You faintly heard the ECG machine beeping, and you knew at least you weren’t dead yet. You don’t know how much time it’s been, the last thing you remember is Neteyam turning his back on you in the clearing.

“You’re a coward…”

You felt your heart hurt, although the pain was not physical, it wasn’t an arrhythmia or fibrillation or asystole, it was worse. It was a kind of pain you can’t fix with some pills or a defibrillator or some epinephrine to restart the heart. It didn’t work that way. This pain you would have to ride out, have to hope it will pass in time. 

He was right. You were a coward, have been your whole life. There was no point denying it any longer, no point hiding behind a facade of eye rolls and straight faces. You killed yourself slowly and painfully, for years - taking pills, taking too many pills, ignoring the pleas from your mind that told you it was slowly losing focus, that couldn’t handle pain as well anymore, that couldn’t sleep unless it was practically mush by the time your head hit the pillow. You told yourself it was unfortunate that you got the virus, that you hated it and that you were working for cure, but in reality you were kind of relieved when it happened. Because now you had an excuse, and you didn’t have to do any of the heavy lifting yourself. 

You were a coward, refusing to get help or let yourself be loved, let yourself be mourned, because you didn’t want to deal with it. You refused to tell Neteyam, the man who has loved you and been your rock your whole life, who, despite everything that went on between you, would always be yours, and who you knew would suffer immensely because of your passing, because you didn’t want to suffer with him. You didn’t tell Norm and Max, because you knew they would make you get help, and try to get you to heal and stay alive longer, and you didn’t want that. You didn’t tell Jake or Neytiri, or the kids, because no parent or sibling should have to watch their kid, their sister die, and you thought by pushing them away and blaming them for Neteyam’s indiscretion, you would be able to soften the blow. But most of all, you didn’t tell them because you didn’t want to know that people do love you, would suffer because of you, that your death impacted lives around you. You didn’t need the guilt. 

Nobody was paying attention to you, you realised. You briefly saw Norm and Max hurrying around you out of the corner of your eye, and saw a dialysis machine retrieving your blood through a tube coming from your neck. You were going into multiple organ failure, you deduced. Your heart and lungs were shot, your kidneys were shot, you didn’t have much time left.

You wanted to speak, you wanted to scream for Neteyam, for all of them, and apologise. You knew what it meant to lose people, better than most. You were sorry for knowing you will put these people you loved so much through so much pain. You were sorry things turned out like this, that you weren’t stronger, that your heart was so broken it found comfort in the pain and was too scared to heal. The tube coming out of your mouth didn’t allow for that. You felt tears falling from your eyes and then slowly the heaviness taking over, pushing your eyelids shut, and the last thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of a flatline, and screams all around you. 

You woke up dazed, needing a few second to take in your surroundings. You had no idea where you were, it isn’t a place you have ever seen before. You looked, trying to accommodate to the light shining brightly from an orb in the sky, and when you couldn’t see Polyphemus and its moons in the sky, you knew you were no longer on Pandora. It took a while, but you eventually realised you were on Earth. You turned around, taking in all of your surroundings, and felt amazed at the unfamiliar new sights. In front of you stood a house. On the smaller side (you thought, based on all the Hollywood movies you’ve seen), with a blue paintcoat and surrounded by a short brown fence, it had flowers you were fascinated by and shrubbery surrounding it, giving it an unkept look - you loved it. It was not like the houses you have seen in the movies, perfect and artificial, with human precision to ruin what Mother Earth put there for a reason. Behind you were paved roads, but nobody was around. There were no other houses, the one in front of you solitary and quiet, except for a rhythmic sound you could hear from somewhere behind it, although you could not place it, as the house was on a little hill. 

You made your way towards the entrance quietly, and were pleasantly surprised when the little fence opened at your slightest push, so you continued through the cobblestone path, until you were standing face to face with a white door. You felt yourself curiously knocking on it, hoping someone could let you in and explain to you what was going on, why were you here, what was this place? Was this the afterlife? Were you in heaven? 

After waiting a few minutes at the door with no answer, you touched the handle and pressed gently, surprised again when it opened to you. You felt a strange smell envelop you, it was a completely new olfactory experience than you have ever had, and you realised you loved it -  it was a rich and warm smell, and you had to swallow as it seemed to trigger hunger in your system. The room you were in was a little claustrophobic, but you couldn’t help thinking if was homely and snug and felt a strange familiarity as you walked through the dimly lit narrow hallway. Right by the entrance to the right was a brighter, doorless room that probably served as a library once - the walls were covered in thick mahogany shelves filled to the brim with colourful books, and a beautiful dark brown desk was placed in the middle of it, with a fuzzy looking carpet adorning the wooden floors. Further in the hallway, frames with photos of people you couldn’t really place were decorating the blue walls and you smiled taking them all in. A photo of 3 people at the beach, a family, you noted, a photo in a beautiful location somewhere in the mountains, a photo of a dad carrying a small girl on his back, both of them laughing widely - all so beautiful, so intimate. On one of the images was scribbled something that caught your attention. It was an image of a girl, young and beautiful, with light and wavy hair and holding what you knew from movies to be a graduation gown, throwing her cap in the air. The handwritten note on it said “Our little Marj graduating summa cum laude at only 18! - Johns Hopkins, June 2123.” 

Shocked, you removed the frame from the wall and looked at it closer. Your mum. This was your mum’s house, the house she grew up in as a child. What were you doing here? What was happening to you? You held on to the picture as you moved through the house that eventually opened into a big and brightly lit room, that served as both the kitchen and the living room. In the corner of the room lay a beautiful grand piano and a few guitars, all on stands. Through the big windows and the door that opened to the backyard, you saw a large body of water, and you realised the noises you were hearing earlier were waves, crashing on the sandy beach. You have never seen anything like it and couldn’t help stare for a while, just taking in the beauty of this world you never thought you would be able to experience for yourself. You found yourself picking up one of the guitars on the stand that you knew was your mum’s, since it was the same one you have…. had on Pandora, and opened the door to the outside, slowly walking towards the open sea. 

You frowned as you made your way through the fine warm sand at all these new experiences and sensations you have never had before, and the frown deepened at a blanket on the ground, almost inviting you to sit down, almost as if it was laid out for you. Feeling safe and blissful in this new world you now inhabited, you allowed yourself to do as you were silently bid. 

You loved the malleable feeling of the sand as you stretched your legs and noticed it moved to accommodate your body. The blanket was soft, and you felt inspired to pick up the guitar and tune it, strumming it gently. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you, the fact that you were here, on Earth, in your mum’s childhood home. You didn’t know what to think, but you thought that if this is death, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. 

“My love.” 

That voice. Your breathing and hands both stopped to bring you to a dead still. Your eyes immediately filled with tears that spilled like effortless waterfalls, a visceral reaction to a voice you never thought you’d ever hear again. Your head snapped in the direction of the voice so quickly it gave you whiplash, but you didn’t care. Nothing else mattered in this life but this voice. 

“Mum??” You got up to your feet as rapidly as your human body could handle and ran in the arms of the woman you loved more than anything in this world, more than life itself. You were sobbing as you removed yourself form her arms, touching her face with your hands, touching her arms, making sure she was real, that she was here. 

“Oh my God, baby, it’s ok, I’m right here.” 

She was trying to calm you down enough so you could utter a word, but you couldn’t, you couldn’t stop wailing, couldn’t stop your body expelling so many tears you completely soaked the top of her t-shirt. 

Slowly, she moved you to where you were sat just a few minutes ago, and you were a blubbering mess, unable to utter a single syllable to this woman you have spoken enough to fill out novels in your dreams, in your thoughts, in your soul. 

“You’re alright, my love. Everything’s alright.” She was removing tears as they fell from your eyes with her palm, gently cupping your face and smiling at you, with enough warmth you knew it could power up this whole world if she let it. 

Eventually, you found your voice. “Mum, what is this? How are you here? Am I dead?”

She laughed at your barrage of questioning, remembering fondly how you have always been such a curious cat, always had so many questions for her, relentless in your quest for knowledge. 

“You’re with Eywa, my love. We’re with Eywa. And no, you are not dead yet.”

“Yet?”

“Yes, baby. It seems Eywa is not quite done with you yet.”

“What does the Great Mother want from me?”

“I think she wants you to make a choice, baby.”

“I’ve already made my choice.” 

“I don’t think you have, my love.” 

You thought about her words for a while. You thought you made your choice. I mean, you were here, weren’t you? Dead. Or in purgatory, one of the two, but still, not alive. You thought about your life. About your beautiful mother sitting in front of you, and the moment she gave her last breath to the world. Her funeral, rain pouring over you like the endless sorrow that hasn’t left you since. You thought about how hard it was to sleep at night, how the nightmares never stopped, how the sadness became a confidant you knew you could never shake - you knew you didn’t want to shake. You thought about your dad - the guilt you felt because of him, his actions, his murders, how they haunted you in dark corridors, how the Na’vi people cursed you in your dreams and told you you were a demon, just like he was. You thought about his body in the woods, his exo-suit that he left a few steps behind, and how you couldn’t walk barefoot after that. You thought about the pills, your only friends, the only cure for your debilitating insomnia. You thought about your sleep paralysis demons, crawling on top of you and sitting on your chest until you couldn’t breathe anymore, watching you scream and laughing at you mockingly, how they always looked like you, how they were just a dark, cursed version of yourself, the you you knew you looked like in your soul. You thought about Neteyam leaving - the last straw, the one that left you irreparably broken, the one that skinned you alive and left you for dead. 

You thought you made your choice. 

“I miss you, ma. So much.” The crying never stopped, but you held her hand and tried to revel in the feeling, in knowing she was here and you were with her. Even if you weren’t sure about your choice before, you were when you looked into her bright and caring eyes. “I just found you, I can’t lose you again.”

“I miss you, too, bunny. I have kept an eye on you for almost 9 years, everyday regretting not fighting harder to be in your life.”

You frowned at her words. “You fought hard, ma. Your death was a tragedy, but it was unavoidable.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe?”

“I mean I fell in the same bad patterns as you did, bunny. I could have asked Mo’at for the transfer, but I didn’t. Just like you didn’t. It hurts me so much to see you make the same mistakes as I did. I love you so much, and I wish I could have healed enough in life to not bestow on you this grief. I wish I could have been braver and stronger, I wish I could have asked for help when I felt like the world was caving in on itself on top of me. Maybe if I did, then you wouldn’t be here.

When your dad died, most of me died along with him. Having to have and raise you by myself was the toughest thing I have ever had to brave. And I’d like to think I did a good job, and it was easy enough, because you were the best baby anyone’s ever had, but inside I was screaming. Every night was hell and I struggled with surviving for the rest of my life. When the cancer came, I was terrified to leave you, I was terrified of knowing you would have to be in this world alone, but selfishly, I was relieved. Because the hurt would finally stop. Mo’at, Jake, Neytiri, Norm, Max, everyone tried to get me to accept the consciousness transfer, but I didn’t. Because it was my consciousness that was killing me slowly. A new body wasn’t going to change that.”

You were reeling at the confession, finding it hard to keep breathing, hard to keep going, even in death. Was there no peace? Were you never going to be at peace? You felt so sad at her words, so angry at her admitting she didn’t let you in, that she abandoned you without fighting as hard as she possibly could to heal, to stay alive for you. She lied about being happy, about you being everything she ever needed, she died without even trying the consciousness transfer. How could she ever d-

You gasped in shock at the realisation. 

“What, was I supposed to find you dead one day and that was it? That was what I deserved from you, after all the blood, sweat and tears I gave you? You said I took your choice away. You wouldn’t have even given me a choice to say goodbye to the love of my life before you fucking died!”

“You had a choice. You could have come to the many people who love you, love you unconditionally, and told us, and let us in, and let us help you. You could have gotten help, taken the pills, fight your damn hardest to make this work, to find a cure, for the life your mum gave you, the life she would have to watch you throw away. You have a choice now. To want to live, to want to fight through this and come out the other side a new, better person. To let me love you, let people love you. To do the consciousness transfer and be with me, and be happy, forever. And you’re choosing this.“

“Baby, are you still with me?”

All of a sudden, all new thoughts entered your mind from the ones before. You thought you made your choice. But then you thought about Pandora, the beautiful world you loved so much, that despite not being born for, you climbed its trees and ran its grounds like you had. You thought about how happy laying on the grass made you, just feeling how each blade tickled your skin and brought a laughter that was so pure, so unassuming - so real. You thought about your guitar, and the guitar Neteyam gave you, and the peace you felt when you played them, when you sang your feelings, like a litany to cleanse your soul.

You thought about Kiri - your beautiful sister who you scoured the woods with, finding rocks and flowers and watching her crafting necklaces while the light shone brightly on your faces. You thought about Lo’ak. Your movie marathons, the endless laughter and the warmth he brought to your soul, that felt forever childlike when around him. You thought about Spider, the monkey boy who was the only one who could truly understand what you were going through as a human child growing on a different planet.

You thought about Norm and Max, how they raised you without ever asking for anything in return, how they kept you in their lab and bestowed upon you all of their knowledge and skill and the look they gave you whenever you put anything they taught you to good use. You thought about Jake and Neytiri, your surrogate parents that you always pushed away, and they always came back, loving you unconditionally despite all your emotional shortcomings. You thought about Tuk, how she looked at you like you were the most amazing sister she had, how you used to be the only one who could put her to sleep when she was a fussy infant, how she loved your voice and clung to your every word.

You thought about your mum, who despite being gone for almost a decade, you still felt in you every day, whenever you touched a book you know she loved, whenever you were in the lab, whenever you looked in the mirror and the eyes that greeted you might as well be hers. Finally, you thought about Neteyam. The person you loved more than life itself, more than the sun and the moon, more than every star in the sky. The person who has been here all your life, who stood by you no matter what, who only left so you didn’t have to suffer further. You thought about his smile, his eyes which were like the lighthouse that would always guide you home, his touch that brought life back into you, his love for you, that shone bright and eternal. 

You realised then you weren’t ready to say goodbye to all of those things, you wanted more, needed more. You wanted to know what it was like to live, fully live, you wanted to know what it felt like to have a proper family, you wanted to give yourself fully to the man you loved, you wanted to know if your kids would have your mum’s eyes and their dad’s kindness and patience. You wanted to experience Pandora’s sky with Neyn, and you wanted to find a cure for the virus that killed you. You wanted to help the Na’vi fight the Sky People, and you wanted to show them there are good humans out there, and you come from one, and are one. You needed more time. 

You were crying so hard you felt your hand going and grasping at your heart, trying to somehow claw through your chest and grasp it in your palms and hold it, trying to stop it from hurting. “I need to go back. I have to go back, I need more time.”  

As soon as you said that, you heard a sound coming from the sky, almost like far away thunder. You didn’t know what it was, but you didn’t have time to think about it. 

“Ma, I have to go back. I have to make it right. I’m not ready, mum. I’m not ready to go yet.” 

“I know, baby. It seems you finally made your choice.” 

You saw far into the distance, and saw the edges of the world dissipate slowly, leaving behind a white glow in their wake. You knew what was coming, you knew the one thing you still had to do before it happened.

“Mum, I forgive you. I’m so sorry life took so much from you and I am sorry I couldn’t help more. I’m sorry you had to hurt alone. I love you so much, I will always love you. You will always be a part of me. I forgive you.” 

You saw your beautiful mum take a deep breath in, and her body started glowing with the same glow that was gently overtaking the world. 

“I have roamed this world for almost 10 years, unable to move on. I am finally free, my love. I can rest now. Thank you.” 

Before she would inevitably leave you again, you needed to know one more thing.

“Mum, was my dad evil?”

“Oh, baby. Your dad was a beautiful soul, and although he had many flaws, he was not evil. When you are ready to open your bottom desk drawer, make sure you look around you as well. All will be revealed in time, my love. And listen to Kiri more when she talks to you about plants, you might be surprised what could come of it.” She smiled kindly and gave you a mischievous wink, and with that, she vanished. 

“MUM!” You screamed, anguished at losing her again. 

You heard her voice echo in the sky. 

“Do not go gentle into that good night, 

Old age should burn and rave at close of day

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

You smiled through tears at the poem she used to read you at least once a week when you were a baby. Once it was done, her voice was replaced with another, and you realised what the previous sounds in the sky were. The only voice in the world that mattered.

“Atan! Please come back, please come back. You can’t leave me, please!”

I’m coming, my light. 

“Push another round of Epi.” 

Neteyam watched as the two humans were working tirelessly to try to bring you back to life. He thought he knew what pain was, what grief and sorrow were, but realised he didn’t - not until the last 30 minutes, as he saw you die in front of him, not until he saw your body being electrocuted and needles going in your heart, not until not any of this torture worked, not until you were still dead, not until his worst fear in life materialised like a bad magic trick. 

“We’ve been doing this for too long, Norm. Even if she comes back now, her brain was without oxygen for 30 minutes and I-“

“Just fucking do it, Max!” 

Neteyam saw Norm get the machine with the two pads that shocked your body ready again, and he felt himself hope, just a little hope, for the last time. He heard himself talk over the noise, over the constant flat tone of the machine that was connected to your heart.

“Atan! Please come back, please come back. You can’t leave me, please!”

Norm put the pads on your body as soon as Max injected you with what they called Epi. 

“CLEAR!” He screamed and pressed the handles of the pads, and your body convulsed violently at the shock they administered. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.  

The room went completely quiet. He saw Norm and Max look at you with mouths agape and then look at each other. Then they started crying. 

“We have sinus rhythm.”

Neteyam felt his heartbeat thump in his chest, felt dizzy and confused. The beeping was different than the tone he heard before. Why were they crying? He turned around to face his family and noticed them hugging, and laughing wildly, screaming and crying at the sight, and he let himself believe, for a second, that this was not bad news.

“What is sinus rhythm?” He said, voice hoarse from the amount of crying he had lived through. 

“She’s alive.” Norm says through panted breaths and muted tears. 

She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. 

It felt like Neteyam took his first breath, like he was born again. They say every Na’vi is born twice, and although the second one was technically when he became a man, he would argue the second time was right now. Those words brought him back to life, in an instant and he felt like he could finally breathe. He could finally live.

“Neteyam”, Max puts a hand on his shoulder, “She’s been dead for 30 minutes. She is alive, but we don’t know what state she will be in when and if she wakes.”

No, you will be fine. He had no doubt in his mind anymore. Eywa has spoken. Eywa brought you back for a reason. 

Hours passed, and you didn’t wake. The two scientists gave you pills and liquids that were going in you through various tubes in your body. Neteyam was tortured at the sight, but was consoled with knowing these were keeping you alive. Eventually, they left you to rest, not being able to do anything more until you would wake up… if you woke up. His parents and siblings, and Spider also left, not too far, as they decided to sleep in the hub. Neteyam stood by your side the whole time. He held your hand which felt so small in his much bigger one, and found himself tracing every hair, blemish and vein on your arm. His gaze then shifted onto your face, which looked peaceful, a deep contrast to the one he saw just half a day ago, although it felt like a different life ago. Your beautiful lips were slightly parted as you were breathing with the help with a transparent mask that covered half your face. Your cheeks had a rosy tint to it, and were marked by shadows given by your eyelashes that were resting on them. Your forehead was finally free of the scowl or frown that seemed to plague it most days, giving you a serene look about you. Angel.

Neteyam’s gaze fell around the room, taking in all the equipment that was required to keep you alive. He learned that the beeping machine was called an electrocardiogram, and through the little sensors on your chest, it could feel your heartbeat. He learned that the machine that was pumping your blood was called a dialysis machine, and it was helping you clear your blood of waste since your body couldn’t do that by itself anymore. He learned the mask was helping you breathe, since you body couldn’t that by itself either. He was eternally grateful to these machines, and the men wielding them, for the part they were playing in you not being taken away from him. He has never liked humans, but more and more, he could understand their beauty, and that, in their own way, they were just doing their best - isn’t that the only thing one can hope for? 

Neteyam was pulled out of his musings by the tiniest movement of your hand that was rested in his. He immediately snapped his eyes to your hand, and gasped loudly when you moved again - just a small twitch, nothing more, but it was enough to electrify his entire body, deep shockwaves running through him from where you touched him to each extremity. His gaze shifted on to your face, and his breath stopped when his eyes met yours. You looked tired, so tired, but alive. Your eyes crinkled at the sides as you gave him a smile, and his world shifted on its axis, never to be the same again. Your hand slowly and shakily made its way to the mask rested on your face, and you pulled on it until it came off, looking like the movement hurt, like it took all the effort you had. He could see your smile properly now, the most beautiful sight he has ever laid his eyes on - this world, the sky, this entire universe could not hold a candle to this smile. 

“Hi.” You said through shallow panted breaths. 

Neteyam cried, his tears flowing freely, the weight of this day bearing down on him heavily, even as he was watching you, feeling you, seeing you alive. He smiled as he brought his big hand to your face, and cupped it as gently as he knew how. You put your hand over his slowly and deliberately, and continued smiling even with the tears that were making their way down your cheeks and into your smile. 

“Hi.” That’s all he could say, and he knew it was enough. 

It was insane - the thought of having to leave your side for even the split of a second, but he knew his family would never forgive him if he didn’t tell them you were awake. So he went, running through the corridors of the labs and hub, trying to find his way, screaming for them at the top of his lungs, hoping he wouldn’t have to waste time searching. Eventually, they came out panicked, praying they won’t have to hear the worst. They were exalted when that wasn’t the case, and Neteyam saw his three younger siblings, as well as his honorary brother, run as fast as the lab allowed towards the room you were in. He followed suit, sending a glowing, relieved, happy smile towards their parents, which they returned with the same enthusiasm. Norm and Max were already in the room when they arrived, alerted by all the commotion. They were checking in on you, adjusted medicines and slowly removing the mask from around your face. 

You were in a lot of pain, that you could feel even with the morphine you knew was supposed to keep your body nice and numb, although you suspected you were the reason it wasn’t working as well as it should. You felt every breath, every heartbeat, like it was a shot to the chest, but you didn’t complain, and stood there as your two favourite humans were working hard trying to make sure you were going to be alive for longer than a few minutes this time. You felt an immense sense of gratitude at their help and their incessant need to keep you safe and healthy, despite how horribly you treated both of them. You hoped you can earn their forgiveness in time. In time… you smiled softly at the thought. You had time. 

FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE V: ACCEPTANCE

You were startled at all the sounds and voices coming from the corridors, and you jumped out of your skin when you saw four figures rushing towards you smiling and crying, laughing at you and approaching your body and the bed without concern for all the equipment or the tubes, or Norm and Max. You tried laughing at the endearing sight, but could only manage a forced exhale.

“You’re alive!” Tuk’s soft sobs brought you to tears again, all the events of the last few days quickly taking a toll on your already jagged body.

You nodded softly at her, giving her the biggest smile you could muster. You looked up at Lo’ak and Kiri and felt them taking each of your hand in theirs and tugging at them, holding you with whatever they could without inconveniencing you too much. Lo’ak was tugging at the IV going in your vein, making it hurt, but you couldn’t care less. You were so happy to see him, see them, so happy they found it in their infinite hearts to forgive you. You didn’t know how you still had enough fluid in you to produce even more tears, but there they were, falling again. 

Neteyam walked into the room with his parents, who both brought their hands to their face at the sight of you, and looked at you with so much love your heart tugged painfully. You couldn’t speak, there were no words to convey the love and appreciation you had for them, for this family you gained, the family you would never leave again. Instead, you weakly, with all the power you had, brought your curled finger to your forehead and motioned towards them. I see you, I’m sorry. I see you. 

Neytiri let out a cry and approach your legs, which she grabbed with her hands and held them softly, giving you a small squeeze. 

Neteyam made his way to your side again, and pushed Lo’ak out of the way so he could be close to you, and took your hand in his again, holding to you tightly. You have never seen him like this, so possessive, so desperate to hold you, and you thought you would probably be the same if you watched him die in front of you. You brought his hand to your lips slowly and kissed it. Thank you.

You would have a lifetime to catch up and tell them everything you have wanted to say out loud your whole life but were too afraid to, but in order to do that, you had one thing to do first. You turned your attention to Kiri, who was still holding on to the arm Neteyam wasn’t. 

Finally, you found your voice. It was raw and guttural, and cracked every other word, but it was there. You would learn to use it again in time. 

“What do you say you and me kill this virus, forever?” 

Passed down like folk songs, Our love lasts so long

Tag list (thank you thank you thank you x): @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @inomoikawa @jackiehollanderr @jaysarchiv3 @meivap @dakotali @hlhl99 @eskamybeloved @erenjaegerwifee @winchestertitties @mommyneytiri @ultimatebluff @elizarikaallen @yeosxxx @ssc7514 @lolcaca @jackiehollanderr @bunnyrose01 @therealbloom @neteyams-queue @ @r1dd1kulus

#neteyam #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfic #neteyam reader #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar twow #avatar fanfic #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam sully fanfiction #neteyam angst #awow #awow neteyam #loak reader #avatar loak #jake sully #dilf jake sully #sully!reader #sully family x reader #sully family x sully!reader

[ohbo-ohno]

the little pavlov of it omggg

Love the idea where you develop a sort of pavlov response to whenever Simon places you in Johnnys cage— more specifically when he chucks a blanket over it making it dark. You’re left in there for hours, sometimes longer, and any initial fear that you felt beforehand slowly fades into some semblance of calm. (It helps that Simon and Johnny don’t interact with you during this, although Simon definitely has to scold Johnny more than once to get him to listen.)

It’s not immediate, but over time your brain is eventually like: ‘Oh— okay, it’s dark. Time to calm down and chill the fuck out now.’ Simon has an inkling but nothing that confirms his suspicions yet.

Maybe one day something happens and you’re just too worked up to listen to Johnnys reasoning or Simons warnings. You end up on the bed with your back to Simons chest, his legs caging yours so that you can’t kick, one hand holding both your wrists and the other covering your eyes. Johnnys between you, trying to get you to calm down.

“—overwhelmed aren’t you lass? Just need to get it out of your system—“

And eventually, overwhelmed, you break down and just go lax in Simons grip. Johnny crowds closer, cooing at you.

“There you go Bonnie, that’s it—“

Simon keeps your eyes covered, waiting until your sobs taper off until you’re just left hiccuping.

(They’re so gentle with you afterwards too. Some part of you wants to recoil from their touch but you’re too exhausted, too comfortable and warm between the two of them to do so. You end up drifting off tucked under Simons chin and Johnnys arm thrown over you.)

🍋 Anon

i read this right before falling asleep earlier then spent many minutes staring up at the ceiling thinking about it. like. oh my GOD lemon

like a bird. we're using bird logic for this. everyone is going to collectively pretend that you are very easy to brainwash.

the dark and warm comfort of johnny's cage... it becomes a safe space for you. you're very very rarely fucked with when johnny isn't locked in there with you, and pretty early on your brain connects the dark cage with safety, a little bit of peace. simon knows that (has done it very intentionally, in fact) - when you need a space to calm, he throws the blanket over you. When he wants to emphasize a punishment or smth, no blanket and no darkness.

simon covering your eyes, and after a few minutes johnny's mouth :( you need dark and quiet to really calm down, and all of johnny's teasing starts to work you up again. so the three of you end up almost piled on top of each other, simon with a hand over your eyes and one over johnny's mouth to keep the both of you quiet and calm

sooo much aftercare, because you're a little shaky when they let you see again. feel really vulnerable, need a lot of support <3

#🍋 anon #asks and answers #dlmliyh #i think? sure

[aimlacely-sapphic]

🔥Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons🔥

My semi-canon compliant headcanons of Zuko after the war with a side of Zukka

Zuko's first few months as firelord are a bit of a mess. He's desperately trying to put together some semblance of functional governance in place of the corruption left in his fathers wake, while simultaneously trying to negotiate peace treaties and settlement agreements with nations his predecessors attempted to destroy.

He's overworking himself, not sleeping enough, forgetting to eat and overall just not doing a great job taking care of himself, convinced if he doesn't take care of things instantly then he's not doing enough.

It all comes to a head once the assassination attempts start getting out of hand. At that point Zuko is simply not sleeping so Sokka, Mai, Tylee and Iroh stage an intervention (you cannot convince me Iroh would stay in Ba Sing Se once things start getting out of hand)

His security get upgraded, Toph gets brought in to vet the staff (she can tell when people are lying!! why wouldn't she get to kick people out of the palace?)

And finally things start to settle down

Once the peace talks and negotiations are done he starts transforming the Fire Nation itself

A lot of people have written about this but I am absolutely convinced that Zuko spends the first year trying to get the palace staff to trust him not to hurt them

By the second or third year they are willing to speak to him and have more than small talk

He goes about making a lot of changes in policy but first he disappears for 2 days only Sokka and his head guard knowing in advance

He goes incognito through dozens of towns and villages

He visits schools (putting his blue spirit skills to use)

He goes to orphanages and homeless shelters

He goes back to the Sun Warriors to tell them about the end of the war and seek advice on how to reshape the way firebending is taught to everyone (and maybe he ends up adopting a dragon egg in the process...)

When he returns to the palace he is ready to transform the nation

He makes it a crime to use corporeal punishment

He brings back old traditions and rule for Agni Kais where they can only be fought by adults against adults provided they both agree to the fight. The Agni Kai stops when a person surrenders or at first burn.

He wanted to completely end the practice of Agni Kais but tradition could not constantly be broken by his reign (according to his advisors) so the changes just make them less common or harmful until they go obsolete

He puts in place programs for veterans to get the treatment and support they need.

He creates a fostering program where children who have been left behind can find love with parents who have lost children or veterans who want to bring love and hope to the world

He works with Aang and Sokka and Master Piandao to create new curriculum for the schools which is historically accurate, brings back culture and joy and teaches students to think for themselves

He includes some of the wisdom from the sun warriors in the new curriculum so that firebending, and really all fighting forms can be taught with their duality in mind. Fire burns but it is also life. Martial Arts can be use to kill, but they are also an art form.

Making the curriculum stick is a longer process but with help from people on the inside, slowly but surely schools start to teach in a better. kinder way

Its around the time of Zuko's 20th birthday when advisors start to bother him about marrying.

It is while trying to avoid their matchmaking that he start realizing that he likes Sokka (he's an oblivious biromantic asexual, why would anyone expect it to take less time)

Not much changes when they get together, they still spar and go to the gardens to feed the turtleducks together, Sokka still makes silly faces behind ambassadors backs, Zuko still goes down to the kitchens to make them a pot of tea to have together witting in his room (the kitchen staff are used to this by now)

But they start sharing more intimacies, finding what feels comfortable for them in the form of hugs that last just a bit longer and chaste kisses on shoulders and cheeks and foreheads.

And when the egg from the sun warriors hatches and a tiny dragon comes tumbling out, they name him Druk and take care of him together

Zuko continues to go on trips incognito a few times a year and it is on one of these trips what he finds a young child alone on the side of the road. When he learns that she has know family he tries to taker her to the orphanage in the town near by. She runs away and there is nothing Zuko is willing to do to get her to go.

She has a grittiness and fighting spirit that reminds Zuko of his younger self, an independent streak and impulsiveness that border on dangerous. And even though Zuko has to leave her that day he can't stop thinking about her as he returns to the palace.

Sokka notices right away and they talk about her, and adoption, and the fact that Zuko needs an heir and end up figuring out that they want a child of their own to raise now that Druk is all grown up

When Zuko next returns to the town he brings Sokka, a legal witness and adoption papers with him.

He introduces her to Druk and when she pets him and falls in love they start to talk to her. She begins to trust them, telling them her name is Izumi and that she doesn't like the orphanage because it reminds her too much of her past.

They stay for a few days getting to know her and when they ask if she wants to live with them she does say yes.

Over time Zuko comes to find balance and love in the peace he created in the Fire Nation<3

Note: I cannot take credit for all of these ideas, some of them come from a bunch of fanfictions I've read over the years and especially Post-Canon Fire Lord Zuko (and his staff) by RejectsCanon

#atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #fire lord zuko #zukka #post canon atla #atla fanfic #dragon dad zuko #druk (avatar) #izumi avatar #the fire nation #peace time and healing #i'm biro ace #and definitely not projecting /s

[spatialwave]

thinking about the last ask someone made about jordan and bras, and marie asking jordan about their powers and they stumble on how they choose clothes that fit and then the bra question is made, or maybe is when they are already dating and marie just ask plainly "do you ever wear a bra?" and jordan explains that most of the times no but they like lacy bralettes and marie just a little

ok this topic makes me BLUSH because jordan is just… learning!!! 🥺 also, i took a bit of a creative spin on this i hope you like it.

-

since jordan had discovered their powers as a young child, they were taught by their father that it wasn’t good to be a girl whenever they wanted. that jordan was their first born son, and that was more important than being able to shift into the opposite gender. they often looked to their mom for support, who couldn’t give it.

jordan had learned a thing or two from their friends in high school, a couple girls who were open-minded and elated to teach them. they learned about the wonders of makeup, feminine underclothing, periods. the gritty details of being a woman.

though, jordan didn’t switch as much as they wanted because of fear from their father, especially as they reached those late teen years. it was becoming a secret to spend time with their friends as a woman, only jordan knew of the fiery arguments that would happen at home if their father found out.

it wasn’t until godolkin when they found real freedom. feeling comfortable enough to switch as they pleased, even finding comfort in having sex as a woman. it was so new and it was so real.

though, as they refined their powers and learned to quickly switch between, they had to start figuring out how to dressing for comfort… underneath.

they preferred to wear boxers in both forms, but bras were a fucking nightmare. they hated them with a passion because they didn’t quite learn how to find something that fit properly. they gave up on it for awhile, deciding that finding a cheap sports bra could help when they were training — but that was it.

but nothing could fight off their curiosity for how cute underwear looked on them. the way the lace curved over their body, how they didn’t mind the way it looked on both of their forms. it was a secret indulgence of theirs — one that wasn’t practical, but just for them.

//

“uh, jordan,” marie spoke as she looked through their partner’s dresser. she had just been digging around, looking for a shirt that jordan said she could borrow when she lifted out a black, lacy bralette that dangled from her finger.

she wasn't here to shame jordan, they were a college student longer than she was. she did her best to shove that jealousy way, way down and not once did it strike her that it was theirs until she saw the red that formed on their cheeks.

"that's, uh... yeah, that's...." jordan stuttered.

"it’s yours?" marie asked, blinking at them a few times.

silence filled jordan’s room as they stared down at her, having been standing and in the middle of throwing a sweater on.

"yeah."

marie parted her lips to answer, but she was completely taken back. it was like her brain was short-circuiting as she imagined jordan in her mind, wearing the black bralette. beautiful, beautiful jordan.

it made her feel perverted, so she quickly dropped it back into the dresser, her own cheeks warm to the touch.

“i just didn’t realize that you-“

“wear bras?” jordan interrupted, finishing sliding the hoodie over their frame as they walked over to her. they bent down and picked it up, trying so hard to find some semblance of confidence about the situation — what was so weird about jordan wearing bras? they had boobs… most of the time, “does that make you uncomfortable?” they asked quietly, gaze flickering to her.

“oh, no, i love it. i mean, not… love. well, yeah, i probably do love it,” she babbled out as she looked up at them, finding it all the more awkward as she stared at them in their male form, “i’m sure it looks really good on you.” she clarified with an exasperated, airy laugh.

jordan’s lips curved into the shyest smile, “i don’t wear it much. it’s not the most comfortable thing to wear like… this.” he motioned to his current form, “but it looks nice. both ways.”

marie simply stared up at jordan, feeling her heart slamming against her chest. mouth growing dryer with each passing second.

“can you show me?”

#limoreau #jordan li x marie moreau #jordan li #marie moreau #gen v #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

[south-of-heaven]

Can’t breathe || Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest

Summary: Damian and Rhea get home to find you mid breakdown, struggling to breathe

Warnings: Emotional distress, reader accidentally hurts herself with her nails

As Rhea and Damian step through the front door, their faces quickly shift from anticipation to concern as they find you in distress. Tears stream down your face, your breathing labored and uneven, indicating the depths of your emotional turmoil.

Without hesitation, Damian moves swiftly, taking a seat behind you. He gently tips your head back, allowing it to rest against his sturdy shoulder. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close, while his other hand rests on your forehead to ensure your airway remains open.

Feeling the support and security of Damian's embrace, your breathing begins to regulate, albeit still shaky. The panic that had consumed you slowly subsides, allowing you to find some semblance of calmness.

Rhea kneels in front of you, her eyes filled with concern and determination. Her fingers gently trace the cuts on your legs, caused by your sharp nails digging into them, assessing their severity. With a soft voice, she reassures you, "You're okay now, love. We're here for you."

Using a damp cloth, Rhea tenderly cleans the wounds, taking extra care to soothe your pain and discomfort. Her touch is gentle, her presence a comforting balm that begins to ease your troubled mind.

As Damian continues to hold you, his voice breaks through the haze of your tears. "Breathe, love. Inhale slowly, let the air fill your lungs. Exhale, letting go of the tension. You're doing great."

His words of encouragement guide your breathing, helping you regain control over the overwhelming emotions that had overtaken you. The rhythm of his heartbeat against your back acts as a steady cadence, grounding you in the present moment.

Rhea finishes tending to your wounds, her hands resting on your knees, providing a gentle touch of reassurance. "We're here for you, every step of the way. You don't have to face this alone."

The weight of their support and understanding envelops you, offering solace and comfort during this difficult time. Their unwavering presence reminds you that you are loved, cherished, and protected.

As your tears subside, replaced by a sense of gratitude and relief, you find solace in the embrace of your two partners. With Rhea tending to your physical wounds and Damian anchoring you with his soothing presence, you begin to heal, both physically and emotionally.

In this shared moment of vulnerability and care, the bonds between the three of you deepen. The strength of your connection serves as a lifeline, pulling you through the darkest of times and reminding you that you are never alone.

With Rhea and Damian by your side, offering their unwavering support, you find the courage to face your struggles head-on, knowing that you have an unbreakable foundation of love and understanding. Together, you navigate the complexities of life, weathering storms and finding solace in the embrace of one another

#wwe #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #rhea ripley #rhea x reader #rhea ripley x reader #damian priest #damian x reader #damian priest x reader #damian priest x rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader x damian priest #priestly

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

04/18/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys / Bears; LindsCantrell/Ringasunn; Vico Ortiz; Gypsy Taylor; Nathan Foad; OFMD Remaining Billboard; Fan Spotlight: PatchworkPirateBear and Cast Cards; Fuck David Zaslav; Love Notes; Today's Taika/Daily Darby

= Rhysie Darby =

Hey all! As you've probably heard, our beloved Captain will be hosting the Big Bear Week this year! Check out more on Deadline.com Img Src: Rhys' IG Stories

= Linds Cantrell / Ringasunn =

Our lovely crewmate @/ringasunn was given some awesome stills by Lindsey Cantrell our resident ofmd set director, and they were kind enough to share them with all of us! Thanks @/ringasunn! Src: Ringasunn's Twitter

= Gypsy Taylor =

Our favorite costume designer Gypsy shared some unseen pictures of Wee John's socks!! Src: Gypsy's IG

= Vico Ortiz =

Vico giving a shoutout for all the animation they've gotten to do since the lockdown!

Src: Vico's IG

== Nathan Foad ==

More BTS and images of Nathan with Love's Labour's Lost!

Img Src: Nathan's IG

== Our Boys Still Up ==

Thanks @ourflagmeansfanfiction on IG for keeping an eye on our boys on that billboard! Did Max maybe just forget it was there and are still paying for it?

Img Src: Our Flag Means Fanfiction IG

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Patchwork Piratebear =

@saveofmdcrewmates is highlighting our sweet crewmate @patchworkpiratebear! They are a pillar of kindness and are always sharing their artwork and edits to be shared in support of the campaign! Feel free to take a load off and do some coloring! There's lots more on their socials! SaveOFMD Posts: Tumblr, Twitter, IG PatchWorkPirateBear's Socials: Tumblr: @patchworkpiratebear , IG, Twitter

= Cast Cards =

Always happy to see another Cast Card from the lovely @melvisik! Today's is "Mark Prendergast, the court scribe who penned the edict leading to Ed and Stede’s Act of Grace." Img Src: @melvisik Twitter

== Fuck David Zaslav ==

Hey! Looks like there are lots of people pissed at David Zaslav! Sesame Street is going on Strike!

Article Link

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! This one's late, sorry about that, I fell asleep again. Today I wanted to send a reminder that you get to create your own space. You get to choose who's in your crew, and your safe space ship. If you don't feel comfortable, because someone is making you feel that way, you don't have to interact with them. I know it's hard, I know that I often suffer from justice fatigue (and I want so badly to explain my point of view), but it really is important to give yourself some space from the things in this world that are heavier. It doesn't mean you can't come back to them, or you shouldn't care, but remember to give yourself a break.

Tumblr, Twitter, those places have "safety" measures in place through blocking, ignoring certain words, etc to help with this kind of thing, so if you need a break from discussions or politics, or whatever, please feel free to use them. You deserve some joy and rest too. Tumblr is my happy place personally, I love coming here and seeing all the cool meta, fanart, fics, etc, but there have been times where I've felt like I just can't deal with the heavier stuff. It's okay not to interact with it if it's bothering you. It's okay to block people who are attacking you. It's okay to ask for support with it too. I love that there's a way to block anon asks now (not just turning them off, but you can block them last time I looked).

A lot of our lives we're told that we don't have a lot of control, but one thing about these kinds of spaces is, we do get to have some semblance of control on what we see and who we interact with, and there's no shame in practicing self care.

Anyway lovelies, take care of yourselves, we love you and we want you to be okay <3

Some other little things that helped me today:

TinyBuddhaOfficial IG

Adorable Raccoon Memes IG

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's Theme is STAAAAAAAAAAAAAHP, How very dare you look that good.

Gifs courtesy of @kiwistede and @darkinerry

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #rhys darby #taika waititi #linds cantrell #nathan foad #vico ortiz #gypsy taylor #ofmd bts s2 #ofmd bts

[chiefdirector]

Beginning | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24

Despite being in this room for what felt like a thousand times, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel uneasy. The put in the bottom of her stomach grew and grew until it felt like a black hole of nervousness. It took all of her might to stay still in her seat, trying to look composed. Now was not the time to show weakness.

Seemingly reading her mind, Tim leaned across, taking one of her hands in his, stopping her from fiddling with her wedding band once more. It was a habit she had meant to break a thousand times but she had never seemed to crack it.

The conversation from the night before spun through her mind. She had lost so much to this, something priceless, (Y/N) didn't know if she could lose any more. She had gotten her life back, she fought like hell to get some semblance of peace for the last two years. Her karma had come, and now it could leave her again.

Those two years she spent longing for her life back, for her husband back, she hadn't realised just how much she missed everything else. Angela and her awful jokes, the way Grey always knew what to say to her. She missed her neighbours and the cookies they brought over when they baked too much. She got it all back.

There were things that were lost forever. Her rapport with Captain Anderson, the woman who inspired her more than anything; she never got to say goodbye to her. If she ever saw Bishop again she wouldn't know what to say, (Y/N) didn't even know if Talia was aware that she was alive.

But there were also things she had gained that she never had before. Harper, Nolan, Chen. The three of them had bonded quickly over various topics. Harper knew what it was like to come back from undercover work, how hard the adjustment was. Nolan's empathy and understanding provided comfort she struggled to get anywhere else.

And with Chen, the two talked about Tim; it was nice to know that he was okay when she was gone. He never really opened up about their time apart but Lucy had provided him with support. (Y/N) was forever grateful. But she was also determined; determined to never lose again.

Her thoughts were so consumed with what she had and what she was putting up at stake, she barely noticed that Grey had begun to give out the initial assignments. Lopez and West were going to go over the initial case file, to see if there was anymore influence from Rosalind that could have been missed. Harper and Nolan were going to go to the Central California Women's Correctional Facility to question the Warden about Dyer's communications and habits. She just about caught Grey giving out her own assignment "...and Detective Bradford is going to go see Kade Sullivan. If our theory is correct, and Sullivan is involved somehow, he will want to seek her out. Tim, you go with her as a lookout only."

"What? No!" Tim protested, horrified at the idea of leaving (Y/N) alone with someone who could have potentially caused her so much grief and torment. "I'm going with her."

"Be happy I've put you on surveillance. I can easily have you and Harper switch assignments." Grey rebutted. "You are not to get involved unless Detectie Bradford explicitly asks for it. Is that understood?"

Tim pursed his lips in frustration. He trusted (Y/N) with every fibre of his being but he couldn't stand the idea of this going wrong. The thing is, he didn't trust himself not to get involved if he saw things going downhill. Gritting his teeth, he responded. "Send Harper."

----------

Where there once stood a dingy and rundown house, stood a home that had received thousands of dollars of TLC. Rotting wood had been replaced, foundations rebuilt, dead plants now blossoming. There was no indication that this house had been in disrepair, bordering on inhabitable.

(Y/N) turned her head, eyes settling on the car Harper was in down the street, reassuring herself that she was no longer alone in this game. Her heart rushed at the realisation truly settled in, seeing Sullivan again would fully put her as well as every other officer at the Mid-Wilshire precinct into a battle of survival, one where there could only be one winner.

She knocked three times before taking a step back. She stood tall, hoping that her stance showed confidence and unwavering determination, things she was definitely not feeling right now. Still she took a deep breath, unclenched her jaw and waited.

She did not have to wait for long though, it was less than a minute before the door swung open on, showing her former case worker staring at her, unmoving, unblinking. His jaw was slightly lowered, the only movement he had was a slight twitch in his right hand.

(Y/N) swallowed her nervousness down, "Sullivan, can I come in?"

"You were missing." Sullivan seemingly snapped back to life. He stuck his head out of the house, looking up and down the street for any visible observers before moving to let (Y/N) into the house as he continued to speak. "Come in, come in."

"I'm not here for a social call."

He moved into the kitchen, offering (Y/N) a cup of tea. He pottered around, trying not to seem as shaken as his initial reaction. "You were never the type anyway. But what are you doing here, last I heard was that you had fallen off the grid. No trace, nothing. Did you not think how worried I would be, and what about that husband of yours?"

"He's not important." (Y/N) lied, going over the story her and Harper had agreed for her to tell. She knew that Harper was listening in over her wire but she still hated the way it felt to lie about Tim. "He's moved on. Probably staying with me out of pity; I made my peace with that."

"Then why are you here," Sullivan passed (Y/N) a cup of tea, "I mean, don't get me wrong I'm thrilled that you are okay. I was so worried but you wouldn't be here if you thought that everything was going fine."

She placed the mug down without a sip, her hand slipping over the edge of the counter as she did so. "I recently got Regina Diaz arrested. She's awaiting trial; no way she's getting off easy. I just came by to say I was okay, I'm no longer in danger."

"That's good, I'm glad."

"Me too." (Y/N) looked round the room. There wasn't a single inkling that someone lived here full time, the only mess was from the drinks Sullivan just made, the rest was immaculate. Nothing was out of place, as was what she had seen of the rest of the house. "I best be off. I don't need to keep you only longer. It was good to see you."

Sullivan held his hand out for (Y/N) to shake. "You too. Let me see you out."

----------

(Y/N) looked at the road ahead as Nyla drove back to the station. With the bug (Y/N) planted in the kitchen, the transmission would already be recording, they just had to hope that it would pick up any conversations Sullivan had, enough for a warrant.

As the city passed her by, she could feel Nyla passing a glance at her every so often. Her gaze was heavy, she could feel it pressing down on her. Eventually, (Y/N) had had enough of the silence. "You know you can just say it."

"It isn't true." Nyla softly said, considering each word as she spoke. "What you said before. He didn't stay out of pity. I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I do, but..." (Y/N) shook her head, stopping herself.

Nyla pulled the car over, parking at before turning to look at (Y/N), giving the detective her full attention. "But what?"

"Sometimes I think it would just be easier if he had moved on. I've dragged you all into my mess."

"This isn't your fault. And I can't speak for everyone else, but you didn't drag me into anything." Nyla sighed, she didn't often provide comfort, it wasn't something she excelled at but she could relate. She knew how (Y/N) felt. "Look, I haven't known you as long as some of the others, but you aren't but you aren't a lost cause, and you gotta stop this self-doubt thing you got going on. You're stuck in the past and I get that but you have a family at that station a family willing to fight this with you. Let them, let us help."

(Y/N) closed her eyes, blinking away the small tears that had formed at Nyla's words. Silently, she nodded at the woman, letting her know that she was okay. "Thank you."

"Now, I mean this in the nicest way possible. Get a grip, we have a job to do."

(Y/N) hummed. "Let's go."

Chapter 24 | Chapter 26

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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24 | 26

#tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #the rookie imagine #the rookie #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Suddenly got a sad thought of a tearful Joanna!lookalike!reader asking if she didn’t look eactly Joanna would she be as loved as she is now? (I feel having a face that isn’t yours and being loved only because of who she looks like would be damaging a little because it might come off as that love being conditional)

I can’t help but imagine Joanna!lookalike just breaking down in the middle of a family dinner or after someone (probably Tywin) slips up and calls the Reader ‘Joanna’ to their face. They’ve let it slide so many times and just acted like they hadn’t heard someone call them by a name that wasn’t theirs. But in reality every time it happened, any time someone spoke so highly of the late Joanna and how much the Reader resembled her so much it would only wear the Reader down all the more emotionally and mentally.

How could the Reader not be effected by the feeling and thought of only really being loved because they looked like someone else? That of course would weigh on them heavily. Even their own siblings were brought up to idolize them for being someone they weren’t. If anything the way their family treated them, excluding Robert, would only push them away more. Pushing them into the hands of other people more than willing to give them the genuine love they desperately craved for who they were and not just because they resembled someone else.

Out of the lot, I see Jaime and Tyrion being the ones of House Lannister who are conscious of the effect that has been placed on the Reader for looking like their late mother. Of course it’s nice for them to have a piece of their mother with them again but they also know that the Reader isn’t their mother and that they are their own person. It’s mainly Tywin and Cersei who have a harder time separating the two, but it’s not just them who see the Reader as a resemblance of Joanna, other House Lannister members who were around when the original Joanna was also have trouble discerning the Reader from the late Joanna.

When the Reader breaks down, everyone would be at their side, especially Cersei. I can see Jaime trying to pull Cersei back after seeing the distress the Reader is in and if they were trying to push her away themself. I feel like Tywin would be frozen in place as Joanna!lookalike sobs about whether he would still care for them like he does if they didn’t look like their grandmother. He’s immediately hit with the recognition of what he’s put on his grandchild. Meanwhile, Cersei is still fighting to stay by her beloved child’s side, shushing them and reassuring that they would be immensely loved no matter what. Even Tywin would be trying to get Cersei away from the Reader as they continue to sob and clutch at themself for some semblance of comfort. He would order Jaime to force Cersei out of the room and away from the Reader and he would oblige, carrying Cersei out as she scratches and claws at him to get back to her bby.

Meanwhile, Myrcella, Tommen, and Joffrey don’t know what to do as their precious sibling breaks down in front of them and everyone else. Someone they knew to be so strong and dependable, gentle and loving; was now crumbling before their very eyes desperately in need of some form of reassurance and support. But before anyone of them can get close to their sibling and comfort them in whatever way they can, they’re all removed from the room and away from their vulnerable sibling.

If yandad Robert were still alive at this time he would have everyone kicked out from the room the moment the Reader started breaking down. Hell, he would have had his kingsguard rip Cersei away from Joanna!lookalike and guard the Reader from her before forcefully removing her from the room as well but it would have been much more immediate and a lot more messy. Whether in the moment or afterwards, Robert would make it very well known that Tywin and Cersei have absolutely ruined the Reader with their Joanna obsession. This may be when Robert decides to send the Reader off to be as far away from their mother and grandfather as possible so they can recover and be themself, as well as for Robert to spite Cersei and Tywin.

In either scenario, with or without Robert in the picture, if the the Mountain was there he would step in and take the Reader out of the situation. Even without being ordered to. When he sees Joanna!lookalike in distress he’s overcome with the intense need to get them away, away from everyone. He doesn’t care about anything else going on around him, it’s all tunnel vision and the only think he can see or think about is getting his darling Joanna!lookalike out of there.

Out of the two I can see Tywin being more understanding and recognizing the magnitude of the repercussions of their actions concerning the Reader. He would be stewing about how to make it up to his grandchild and make them feel wanted and appreciated for more than just sharing the face of someone else. Meanwhile, Cersei would still be blinded and delusional about the whole thing, believing that she’s not in the wrong about anything. As far as she’s concerned it’s other people who have pointed her child’s mind into thinking and feeling the way they do. She knows damn well, without a doubt in her mind, that she would love her children no matter what, especially Joanna!lookalike even if they didn’t look so much like her late mother. She completely and utterly refuses to allow Robert to say or think that she has ruined her child whatsoever, she hasn’t! She has been nothing but a loving and doting mother, what more could be asked of her? So what if she has been a bit more invested in one child over the others, that doesn’t mean anything.

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[goldenempyrean]

Burning

〚 Day 8 - Persistent Fever 〛

〚 Pairing - WandaNat 〛

〚 Summary - Natasha isn't going to leave her feverish girlfriend's side 〛

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Wanda whined as she tossed and turned in her sleep as vibrant and rich fever-fuelled dreams plagued her sleeping form. Images and fragments of memories flashed through her mind, blending reality with fantasy in a disorienting mix. She may have been sleeping but she certainly wasn’t as rest. 

She wasn’t alone at least. Natasha was vigilant, sitting by her side and quietly soothing the witches sleeping form, gently dabbing the brunettes burning skin with a damp cloth in order to provide some comfort. To say she was worried was an understatement. 

Wanda had been hit by some sort of weapon, whether it was alien or engineered was unknown, but it’d caused the rapid onset of s fever that just wouldn’t break. Maybe if she was lucky, she’d get a break for a few hours, but her temperature always seemed to spike again afterwards. 

This was the third night and a row and Nat had exhausted herself, refusing to sleep while her girlfriend was in this condition. 

As Wanda writhed, her forehead glistened with perspiration. Her breathing was uneven, and occasionally she would let out small murmurs of distress. Nat continued to gently dab her forehead with the cool cloth, hoping to alleviate some of the feverish discomfort. 

"Wanda, baby, it's okay," Natasha whispered softly, her voice filled with reassurance. "I'm here with you love, you're safe." 

Natasha's words seemed to reach Wanda's subconscious, as her restlessness momentarily subsided. She settled into a slightly calmer state, although her brow still furrowed with traces of discomfort. 

“You’ll be okay Wands,” The redhead whispered lovingly as she traced her gentle fingers through the witch's hair, lightly applying pressure in the way she knew she loved, “You’re so strong baby, look at you. You’re my beautiful strong Avenger. You’ll get through this.” 

Wanda's fevered mind absorbed Natasha's soothing words, the sound of her voice providing a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos of her dreams. She clung to the redhead's presence, finding solace in the touch of her fingers through her hair. It brought a small measure of relief to her weary body, even if only momentarily. 

Natasha continued to stay by Wanda's side, her love and concern evident in her actions. She knew that Wanda needed her presence, her unwavering support. The persistent fever had taken its toll on both of them, but Natasha refused to give up hope. 

Leaning closer, Natasha planted a gentle kiss on Wanda's forehead, her lips cool against the heated skin. "I'm right here, my love," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "We'll fight this together. You're not alone." 

Wanda's fevered murmurs grew quieter, almost imperceptible, as if the connection between her and Natasha brought a momentary respite from the torment of her illness. In the midst of her feverish dreams, she could sense the love surrounding her, grounding her in reality. 

The night wore on, and Natasha continued her vigil, never wavering in her determination to care for Wanda. She monitored the fever, using the damp cloth to cool her down whenever it spiked. She whispered words of encouragement and love, hoping that her presence and support would help Wanda find the strength to overcome this ordeal. 

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the window, Wanda's fever finally broke. The heat that had consumed her body gradually subsided, and her breathing evened out into a more peaceful rhythm. A sense of relief washed over Natasha, her weariness momentarily forgotten in the face of this small victory. 

With a tender smile, Natasha brushed a strand of hair away from Wanda's face, her gaze filled with affection. "You did it, Wands," she murmured softly. "You fought through it. I'm so proud of you." 

Wanda stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet Natasha's loving gaze. A weak smile graced her lips, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Nat," she managed to say, her voice filled with gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without you." 

Natasha leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against Wanda's lips. "I'll always be here for you, Wanda," she whispered, her voice filled with devotion. "No matter what challenges we face, we'll face them together." 

And as they embraced, the room filled with a quiet sense of hope, a testament to the strength of their love and the unbreakable bond they shared. 

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