#but the way i have to consciously think about it every time. like ok does steel resist dark and ghost or not

[goldensunset]

actual hardest part about playing the older games is looking up the right set of information on databases. there are so many inter-generation changes about the littlest stuff, like a move’s power, the exact effect of an item, the method to evolve a particular pokémon, the moves a certain pokémon can learn, the crit rate, etc

[chatsukimi]

ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ: (cigarettes after sex geto x reader series, angst)

I missed you & I cried, but I said that I was alright & I know it’s been awhile since I needed a distraction.

Geto Suguru drips blood onto your doorstep. It's been six years since the incident and when he sees your face, tired from having been woken up in the middle of the night, his instinct still betrays him.

'Baby, can I come in?' Closing the gap, he opens up his posture as though you'd run back into his arms.

You cower away at the mass murderer. Why is he here? The familiar stranger deflates into almost a sorrowful expression, his eyes scrutinising the living room with such concentration. Pressed against the back of the couch, your hands curl into fists.

'You're here to kill me, aren't you?' You stand up properly, letting his gaze crawl over your body. 'Do it. Make it quick.'

His voice cracks like a distant record, mumbling in the same foreign and pathetic register, '... was thinking about you...'

Oh, that makes all the difference, doesn't it? He decides he wants you again and you come rushing back to the monster.

Only, you would. It pains you that you've held those bloodied hands, that you used to tidy up his wet hair, admonishing him for not bringing an umbrella, that he's carved his touch into your very consciousness. That the lack of him haunts you still, echoed in the shock of your wide eyes. He fixes you with that stubborn stare; he knows you remember.

Once you gather your stampeding heart back into the cavity of a hollow chest, you have it in you to flinch at the barrage of cuts and scratches littering his body. They bend with his every breath.

Must hurt like a bitch, you think.

'I can leave,' he offers, an empty promise.

'No... it's OK.'

You think you see him soften. It's been years... then again, it's been years since you've seen him at all.

'Close the door. Let's get you fixed up.'

You lead him to the bathroom and sit him on a stool. He hangs his head. Studying the heavy bruises dotting his back, your fingers flutter over his skin, casting a fragile burst of reverse curse technique to mend the harm.

Rainwater dribbles quietly through the pipes.

Geto thinks of a time when he could've laughed in this instance with gritted teeth, tell you not to expend so much cursed energy on him when Shoko could, and you had to save your power for the mission tomorrow. But now all he can bank on is your weakness.

He hums as your hand accidentally brushes a wide gnash on his shoulder.

'Careful. Dunno if the curse is still there.'

You remain silent.

You have the right to be.

'Who did this to you?' You wince at the way it sounds.

Like you care.

His heart lights up at the foolish idea. It truly mirrors a dream. But this time, he can turn around and your face is right there. There.

It doesn't vanish, but it also doesn't fray into warmth.

He lets out a frustrated exhale. 'It doesn't matter.'

But it does.

'Who did you fight?' you question again.

'... a jujutsu sorcerer.'

Your leg hits a cabinet door. He forces himself to raise an eyebrow.

'And what... happened... to them?' You're drifting further from him every second.

He knows exactly what you mean, what you don't want to say aloud. Horror shifts over your face before he even speaks- it's too far gone.

'I killed him.'

See, he wants to think he has the right to feel hurt by what you do next.

Fuck. You stumble back against the sink. You close your eyes, your hand moving over your mouth to stop you from retching to the smell of blood. A sorcerer's blood. An innocent sorcerer.

Just weeks ago, he stayed up all night listening to you cry on the phone, figured that as long as he didn't speak, he wouldn't be infringing on the moral code he set for himself. The sounds of your quiet sobs still wrack his body.

He figured he was smarter at the start. During the first two-three years, at every mention of your name, he'd depart, loading onto his schedule a series of exorcisms and executions to crowd you out of his mind. He was smarter then.

Now, he simply stands there, still. He waits for you to calm yourself because he knows he has no right to do anything else.

He was yours before he was ever slave to the cause- and fuck, does that realisation destroy him. (that he ruined the first good thing in his life)

'How old...' you mutter, '... how old were they?'

One shot after another, yeah?

'Seventeen,' he murmurs, his voice still damn silky smooth.

'How could you...' you stutter out. 'How could you?'

He remains silent. You have to think for yourself, he knows. He couldn't guarantee anything if he merely disarms you with his touch.

Though it doesn't hurt to hope.

'Seventeen,' you repeat. 'I was only seventeen when you left.'

'... I...'

He finally steps forward, unable to abide by his inner rules anymore. He is losing you. A small rebellious voice in him screams, finally! This is what you deserve!

'Please.'

'Leave.'

You're trembling.

He wants to close the gap. To reassure you that everything will be OK. But if he moves further by an inch, you'll call the cops. You'll call the higher ups. You'll call Gojo. He knows you.

'No.'

'You killed a child.'

'... I know.'

He knows, don't you get it? Nothing will ever be the same.

'I'm scared.'

'I won't hurt you.'

'Won't you?'

He stops. You, the image of his sparkling adolescence, crumbling away. With every little exhale you take, he sees the line he's drawn six years ago transform into a cliffside, the rift extending into a canyon.

'Don't you know I want you?' He bows his head like a man in prayer before you.

Wet hair against your warm breath. Strong arms beside you, locking you on the bathroom counter. The bitter lips you still remember now purple in the cold.

'You're leading me on.'

'No...' Geto buries his head in the crook of your neck. '... no...'

'I don't want this,' you say. He keeps his hands on your waist. 'I don't want you.'

At that, he lets out a noise truly pathetic for the man you once knew. He looks up and his purple irises still retain their watercolour beauty from back then. He looks up and, in you, he sees a lifetime. He presses his lips against your jaw and the scene blurs.

His thumb reaches up to brush the tear away.

'I'm sorry,' Geto says. 'For you. I don't care about those... non-sorcerers, but let me take care of you one last time, yeah?'

His eyes ache with that pathetic hope. He knows the future as well as you do.

You murmur out your words in a blank haze. 'Friends. W'broke up already.'

But did you? He still remembers how he never made things concrete, in the letter he left for everyone. He never spelled out the words 'over' or 'broken up' or even 'goodbye', perhaps because he knew he'd find his way back to you... too far gone.

If one puts a stethoscope at his heart, he's sure they can hear it break.

He swallows, nodding. OK. Friends. He can do that.

Friends. He'll make it up to you, he vows to himself. That night, Geto Suguru helps you take off your slippers, getting into bed. He notices how you don't say anything as he pulls you closer, cradling you as he used to do.

Missyoumissyoumissyou.

He scrunches his eyes shut. He feels no matter how close you are to him, you're not close enough- he sees the chasm of curses between you, haunting his sleep. Each time he wakes, he takes a moment to relish in the soreness of his arms, with you in them, and presses a chaste kiss on your head.

Your touch is all he needs in the world full of nightmares.

In the morning, before he leaves, he takes a cold shower in your bathroom. He pumps some coconut scented shampoo into his palm, lathering it through his hair. Sunlight eases through the curtains in your room. He paces to your bedside and lets his hand reach for you, touch your cheek, warm. Alive.

All he needs.

Geto Suguru leaves your house in the sixth year of his defection. He swears he'll never return.

...

Because I want to do everything that you want me to To tell you the truth

I need to stay alive, so sad that I could die

It’s leading me on, every time we touch Leading me on, every time it hurts series

[gabessquishytum]

Burgess didn't summon Dream of the Endless in human form, he called to the Eldritch manifestation -- the "monster" with no human form and tentacles, that drives men crazy to look upon it.

Everything, human & animal, in the Burgess manse died the night of the summoning. Everyone in town or some miles from the actual house that didn’t die when Dream initally manifest went crazy. And unfortunately, Dream was trapped and couldn't free himself from Fawlty Rigg. The land and the house became a haunted and derelict, crumbling, with the Eldritch Dream trapped.

The crazy spread through the surrounding area slowly, but inexorably. With Dream forgotten, with his humanoid shape unknown,,,,,with the "story" of haunted land growing.

Hob, working on his first degree, on old architecture with haunted pasts goes to investigate for his thesis. Hob is old 😏 and has found that while most places, structures, have interesting histories, they are very rarely haunted.

Hob heard about the area around Fawlty Rigg being cursed, and certainly it was fodder for tales (Lovecraft's The Color Out of Space seemingly based on the area was published 30-ish years ago). But Hob has yet to find a place that drove him mad.

When he gets there a flock of ravens seem to be watching him - so at least animals are back?!? And creepy. Hob is only there for a few days when he thinks he hears his name being whispered on the air from the basement?? (a basement he hasn't been able to get into yet.) And every time he goes out to his car, there was a raven sitting on it,,,,,and today it spoke his name. So maybe this place is driving him crazy.

Jessamy: Hob Gadling! Thank dreaming. You can save Lord Morpheus!

Hob: I can save who now?

The raven tells him that his centennial stranger is trapped,,,,in the basement of this crumbling building. And that his presence has weaponized dreams and nightmares for the people in the surrounding area, driving every one mad! Hob as one of the only people who remembers, knows, Lord Morpheus's humanoid form, might be the only one who can help Jessamy's king back to himself.

Oooh this is a really interesting concept. Imagine what it's like for Hob as he goes through the crumbling house, into the basement, surrounded by the crushing feeling that something is just wrong in the air. Hob has felt a lot of weird stuff in his life but this is something else.

The thing contained in glass sphere is a squirming, pulsing, writhing. It's absolutely terrifying, and Hob nearly turns tail and runs. But at this point in his life he's not the type of man to just leave any kind creature locked up in a cage. He does as Jessamy told him, wipes away the paint around the sphere... and covers his eyes.

The sphere explodes, and Hob’s brain nearly explodes too. His consciousness is overwhelmed by an extreme burst of power. His nose is bleeding and he's still seeing terrible images in his brain when the explosion dies down and he manages to pry open his eyes.

There's his centennial stranger, sitting in the middle of the broken glass with sand seeming to pour around him. His eyes are glowing faintly and he's just looking at Hob.

And Hob isn't sure if he's gone mad like the rest of the people in the area, but he stumbles across the basement and scoops his stranger up in his arms, away from the glass. He's muttering that it's gonna be ok, and his stranger is clinging onto his and still leaking sand... its horrible. But Hob has never felt such pure joy in his heart.

He'd love to know what the hell he's holding in his arms! He's fascinated and, lets be real, kind of turned on by the idea of his stranger's power. He could swear that Jessamy winks at him on the way to the car.

Hob’s life just got hella fuckin weird... but hes going to do whatever it takes to nurse his stranger back to his natural self. However much sand he gets in the car.

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 7)

DESCRIPTION: You decide to give Tommy some big news at the reopening of the Garrison

WORD COUNT: 2721

A/N - I had a dream about Thomas Shelby last night. He was chasing me through a mansion and I had to hide from him. It was very intense. Guess thats what happens when you watch Peaky Blinder highlights before going to sleep

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: swearing, talk of violence, mild threat of violence, pet names (love), drinking, smoking, pregnancy, smoking whilst pregnant (social norm for the time period), Inspector Campbell being himself

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

Not been proof read

It had been a couple of months since your meeting with Harry Thompson. He kept his word. Leaving Birmingham soon after your blackmail. Since then the Shelby family has been more kind towards you. By that you mean you don't feel like they want to kill you every time you enter a room.

You'd attended a few more family meetings as well. But most issues or problems were being resolved within the main family circle. You were appreciative of attending the discussions though. They were certainly more open towards you. Polly even asking how your day has been - on more then one occasion!

But then Thomas got attacked. Horribly. Brutally. You’re surprised he’s still alive to be honest. So sure that he’d die at the hospital where you sat with him until he gained consciousness. When he did, he told you to 'stop fussing and fuck off'. Glad to know that the attack didn’t change him. You left him to heal.

He went to London for a few days. You weren’t sure why. But he left Polly in charge of all Peaky business. You tried questioning her on why Thomas had left but she only responded with 'its none of your business'. Looking back on it you don’t think she knew.

It was a Tuesday morning. Scrubbing the mud from your sister's dress (she had fallen over right into a puddle) in your kitchen. Opening the back door you go and hang the newly washed dress up on the washing line in the garden. Going back inside the house you shut the door. Turning around to go back to the living room, you jump as you see a figure. Gripping at your chest as your husband stands in the door way. A smile of amusement coming over his face as he realises he made you jump.

"Jesus no need to scare me like that"

"I’m sorry love. Wasn’t my intention". A silence filling the room. You go over to a cabinet. Taking out a whiskey bottle. He grabs out two glasses, placing them down by you. You speak as you pour.

"I’m glad to see you looking better"

"I don’t think I could’ve looked much worse" you chuckle slightly. Putting the lid back onto the drink before sliding his glass to him. Him standing next to you but sideways on as he picks up his drink. You take yours. Turning towards him as you hold your drink in one hand. The other folding over your torso.

"Where did you go?"

"Did Polly not tell you?"

"I know you went to London but that’s all she told me” he nods. Taking a sip of his drink. “I just wondered why?"

"I had some business to attend to regarding Ada"

"Is she ok? I know that she got attacked too"

"She will be. She’s a strong willed woman. Plus I’ve given her a new home and protection for her and her son" you nod. Watching as he downs his drink. "I also had to do some business with Alfie Solomons". You furrow your brow at the name. It ringing a vague bell from when you lived in London

"Runs a Jewish gang correct?" he nods. Turning to face the counter as he places his glass back down on the side. Taking the whiskey bottle and pouring himself another drink.

"Have you met him before?"

"No. I only know the name in passing. Got told to stay away from him as he bad news and couldn’t be trusted". Tommy pauses in his actions. Hand around the glass but still on the counter top as he takes in your words. He goes into his pocket. Taking out a few coins and placing them stacked up on the side near you. You look at the small pile.

"I want you to buy a new dress"

"For what occasion?"

"The grand reopening of the Garrison" you stay silent. Thinking over your words before speaking.

"Mr Shelby... is opening the pub a good idea given the recent events? Would it be best to wait until the current threwat is dealt with before rebuilding?". He sips his drink again.

"I want those to know that the Peaky Blinders can rise from any downfall they have" he turns to face you. Drink still in hand as he points in the direction of the pub. "This is the way that we show those fuckers that it'll take a lot more to take down the Shelby family". He downs his drink. Placing the glass onto the table.

"So I’d like you to go out and buy yourself a new dress for this special occasion" he brings a hand up. Resting it onto your cheek as he meets your eyes. Yours soft as you watch his piercing blue orbs. "Lets show those bastards not to fuck with us, eh?". A soft smile comes over your lips as he drops his hand.

It took about a month to rebuild the Garrison. It was hard work but my goodness it payed off. Tommy had shown you it before anyone else. Before the big reopening he took you to see the grand building. Standing tall and proud.

It was the day of the reopening. You’d done as your husband had asked you to do. Gone out and bought a fancy new dress. So here you were. Sitting at the bar. Cigerette in hand as you watch your husband talking with his guests. You snuff out your smoke in the ashtray nearby before going over to him. Gently resting your hand on his arm. He looks at you. His smile softening in feature as he meets your gaze.

"Can I talk with you? Alone?" he nods. The smile seeming to fade marginally at your request. You take his hand. Leading him to a back room. Shutting the door. He watches you. His eyes filled with a confusion as you take his hand. Leading him to a table. You sit down. Him sitting opposite you.

"What is it love?". You look down. Fiddling with your wedding ring. His hand gently takes your chin. Bringing your head up to meet his eyes "what’s on your mind?"

"I’ve been thinking about it and I-" you cut yourself off. You dart your eyes over his features before asking "Can you teach me how to fight?". The request seeming to shock him. Before he can respond you carry on talking. "I saw what they did to you. I know what they did to your sister. And she lives hundreds of miles away. I’m concerned that myself and my sisters are at risk here. I’m sorry I’ve only just brought it up now but given the current situation I-".

"Hey" he moves his hands. Cupping your face as he makes you look at him "So long as you remain a Shelby then you have the protection of myself and the Peaky Blinders. I know I was gone for a while but you will always be safe. I promise you that"

"I would feel safer if I could fight... rather then relying on you to keep me safe..." his eyes dart between yours. Trying to read your expressions. Before he can say anything else you speak again. Quieter this time. Voice barely above a whisper. "I’d like to be able to keep the baby safe...". He stays silent. His eyes flashing with emotions. So quick you can’t read them. Them darting downwards to look at your stomach before coming back up to your features. Mere seconds feel like hours as silence consumes you. You bring your hands up. Holding his wrists as he continues to hold your face. "Please say something".

"It is my duty as your husband to keep you and our child safe. So long as I live I will ensure that. If you wish to learn to fight after our child is born then I will teach you. But you won’t learn whilst you are carrying my babe". He leans forward. Kissing your forehead. You shut your eyes. Nodding as you feel him watch you again. "You are safe Mrs Shelby. I promise". You open your eyes as you feel him stand. Looking up at him as he drops your face. Taking your hands with his. Pulling you up. "Shall we go and tell everyone else the news about the new family member?" he smiles. You nod. Taking his arm as he leads you back out into the crowd.

You wait for the other guests of the party to leave before informing your in-laws. Your sisters are the first to hug you. Wrapping your arms around them both. Tommy's siblings congratulate him first. Ada coming over to you and hugging you too. After your sisters finally let you go. Her giving you affection isn’t shocking. What does surprise you is when Arthur hugs you.

"Well done girl" he says. Genuine joy and happiness in his voice as he hugs you close. You smile at his affection. More due to the symbolism of them accepting you as a family member rather then the hug itself. He moves away. Seeing John Boy practicly hitting Thomas's shoulder as he congratulates him. Your youngest sister takes your arm in hers.

"You know, Mary is a very good name" you roll your eyes

"You can’t suggest your own name” Luz says. Turning her attention from the youngest sibling back up at you “But, on the topic of names, Elizabeth is a very good name" Causing you to laugh.

"You two are as bad as each other" you say. A smile on your face as you contiue to talk with them. You meet Polly's gaze. Cigarette in her hand as what appears to be sadness glazes over her eyes. She nods slightly at you. You give a soft smile and a nod in return before your sisters drag you back to their conversation.

The time flew by. You were around 5 months pregnant. At a small party that was hosted by one of Tommy's aquaintences up in London. You knew your purpose for this party. An accessory to make your husband look good. To make him look approachable. So you stuck by his side the whole party. Your arm linked with his as people came and chatted with you both.

That’s when you noticed a shift in his demeanor. His friendly persona he had on changing. Feeling his arm tense under yours. Although you were getting better at figuring out your husbands thoughts and feelings you still found him incredibly difficult to read. You look at him. Following his gaze. It falling onto a middle aged gentlemen with a cane. You look back at him. You may struggle to figure out what’s going through his head. But you knew that he must know this man.

"Mr Shelby? Is everything ok?"

"We should be going Flo" he turns his back to the man. Forcing you to turn with him as your arm remains on his.

"Who is that man?" you whisper.

"Someone who I reluctantly do business with. Who I'd much rather put a bullet between his eyes then engage in small talk". You look at your husband. Mild shock filling you. He rarely uses violent language around you. He swears a lot but he never talks about violence or commiting violent acts towards people whilst in your prescence. Not even in a joking manner. So for this to be said you know he must be quite a character.

"Lets leave then. If you’ve finished all the other busniness you need for the day" before either of you can make a decision you hear an Irish voice speak.

"Thomas Shelby". Turning to face the man. Him having walked over to you both. You follow suit. Standing slightly behind your husband. Arm interlocked with his as you feel his body tense mildly. "I'll be damned to see you here. You’re a long way from Birmingham aren’t you?"

"I could say the same about you" the man smiles. His eyes falling to you. Raking over your body.

"And who is this pretty thing you’ve got with you?". Thomas clenches his jaw slightly. Watching the man as you cling to him more.

"Inspector Campbell this is Florence Shelby. My wife" he holds a hand out towards you. You take it. Shaking it as a way to deem polite.

"Its a pleasure to meet you ma'am” his eyes fall to your stomach before meeting your eyes again “I can see that a congratulations are in order. What with the marriage and the pregnancy" he motions towards your belly. You half smile.

"Thank you Mr Campblell. We really shou-"

"I never pictured you as the marriage type though Mr Shelby. Not with your reputation"

"Time changes people" he says. Eyes boring into the man. You could feel the testestorone start to build. Turning slightly to your husband. Your hands tightening around his arm.

"I need some air. Come join me" he drops his death glare off of the man. The stare softening as they meet your calming eyes. He nods. Excusing yourselves from the man as you head outside. You sit on a small bench. Hand resting on your stomach as you shut your eyes.

Hearing the soft strike of a match you open your eyes. Tommy lighting a cigarette. Resting it on his lips. You hold your hand out. Him taking a puff from it before placing it in your hand. Watching as you inhale the smoke. Resting your hand on your knee as you exhale. Looking back at the room where the party is.

"Do we have to stay for much longer? Im growing tired"

"We'll stay for a little bit longer. It’s not ideal the detective being here’s but I still have some business left to do” you hold your hand up. Letting him take the smoke from you as he takes a drag from it before speaking again. "If you’re tired then stay out here. You’ve done more then your far share today. You should rest for a little while" you nod. Half smiling at him

"I'll come back inside in a bit. Just want to have some fresh air" he nods. Gently squeezing your shoulder before handing you the cigar. Heading back inside as you take a few more puffs. Placing the butt on the ground. Snuffing it out with your shoe. You watch as you see the crowds of people inside. Spotting your husband talking with someone. The main person you know he wants to make a deal with.

You go to stand up. Wanting to go and help make a good impression. Struggling slightly as you push yourself up. "You ok there Mrs Shelby?" you hear a familiar voice say. Turning you see the inspector. You nod, a soft but half genuine smile on your face

"I’m fine Mr Campbell. If you excuse me I need to go find my husband" turning away you hear him speak.

"You know" he comes over to you. "I can help you". You talk as you turn to face him again.

"Excuse me?". A few more steps. Any closer and he’d be touching you.

"A young, pretty woman such as yourself being dragged into the world of Thomas Shelby. I can’t believe that it was due to your love or affections for him" you go to say something but he cuts you off "I know what your going to say. That you love him and that he cares for you. But I know the truth. That he somehow pulled you into his world of fighting and gangs and you can’t get out” another step closer as his voice darkens “I can give you a way out. Let me help you" he brings a hand up. Going to stroke your cheek. You step back. Shocked by his forward tone. Your hand going to your stomach as a form of protection to your unborn child.

"You know nothing about me or my husband and the life that we have together. We trust each other wholeheartedly and I would never do anything to get rid of that"

"He'll never love you. You do know that, right? You might think he does. Or that he will. That you can change him. But you can’t. You will always be just an object for him to manipulate to his own advantage".

"And what? You think you could give me a different life?" You keep your eyes steady and fixed on his. His eyes remaining on yours as you keep your ground.

"I could give you the affection and love he isn’t capable of showing you. Care for you in a way that a man like him won’t"

You take a step towards him. Anger flashing through your eyes as you spit your words at him. "I am going to go back to my husband. The man who’s child I am carrying. I will be leaving with him back to our home. To our shared bed. Do you understand me Mr Campbell?" He watches you. Nodding. "Good. Goodnight" you turn. Walking back to your husband as he continues to chat with his soon to be new business partner. Linking an arm with him as he introduces you as his wife.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

[darkshadowdeath]

Ok but like picture this:

CW is the personification of time, hes a time god, so while he can stop time, speed up, slow down, he isnt always consciously aware of the speed of time. BUT, lets think of time as a part of him. So, when he likes people, wants them to succeed, even peripherally, time seems to be in their favor.

People often say oh time flies when you’re having fun and drags when you’re not. What if this were actually true. CW isnt always focusing on the people he likes, but time is him so it also favors these people. They will always just make it to class right before the bell or save someone just in time, an attack will be a second too slow.

For danny, however, CW is basically a grandfather. CW loves danny. So time is like an eager puppy that wants to please him. If hes having fun with his friends and thinks, i wish it could always be like this, time fucking dilates for him, it really does go slower. When hes bored time speeds up just a little bit.

That was a long ass lead up to my fic idea but anywayss. Imagine danny gets old, time passes, but not really for him. Its probably a mix of being a ghost and CW being his grandfather, but hes stopped aging at some point. He loses his sense of time. When its always stopping and starting and speeding along and slowing down, it tends to lose some of its meaning. So he lives and lives until one day he realizes the world has completely changed around him. He’s become something of a homebody, staying in his home for months at a time, imaging the stars, recording star maps, generally enjoying his life.

Theres a knock at the door. More of a thud, really, and when he goes to check it out, he finds a man- a man bat? -slumped against his door. He’s baffled. But the man- man bat? -is injured, so he brings him in.

He tries to take the armor off, before giving up it just phasing it off of the guy. Not all of it, he leaves the cowl over the top of the face and the underclothes stay put, he’s not disrespectful, thanks you very much. He does what he can to patch the guy up. Its much easier to do on someone else rather than himself. The man bat guy doesn’t seem to be badly injured, a broken ankle, a fractured wrist and bruised ribs, but what really seems to have taken him out is a bad concussion, he guesses, judging by the fat ugly knot on top of the dudes head.

It is no matter, he thinks, he will just have to stay here and recover. And so danny drifts off, to put some food aside for his unexpected guest and to get back to work.

He genuinely forgets about the guy until he hears a thump. Trying to sneak out, the man bat has fallen. Now, normally, theres no way in hell Batman would have fallen. But when he’s seeing in quadruple and his head pounds with every beat of his heart, he can probably forgive himself for this little mistake. Maybe.

Danny floats on up to him.

Wait

Y am i writing this all out lol. I was just gonna outline my idea and dip 😭.

Basically, he helps bats recover, but finds he really likes hanging out with him. So time comes into play and slows down, just for them. When bruce is finally healed and can reach out to someone, the world has changed again. Shit went down in gotham. The city has changed. He doesnt understand at first. Its not really wirher of their faults, but hes- he doesnt know how he feels, sad, mad, frustrated, at a loss. He feels it all, in great detail, and it weighs heavily on him. But well, hes made friends with danny in the years- years???!! - hes been with danny. He goes back. They make up and stay together til bruce succumbs to old age bc he isnt the same as danny. Nvr was and wasnt going to be but at least they could enjoy their time together. The end.

[munstysmind]

BIRTHDAY CAKE - CHRIS EVANS

WARNING/S: Implied smut, Chris being adorable… that needs a warning, right??

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

A loud crash comes from the kitchen, ripping you from your sleep. As soon as your brain registers its sudden return to consciousness, you groan loudly in protest and rub your eyes before reaching over to get phone from the bedside table and check the time.

It's just after ten.

You let out another groan as you stretch your entire body out before relaxing back into your boyfriend's king-sized bed.

You came back to Boston with him at the start of quarantine. Both of you were out of work with the film, and basically every other nonessential, industry being shut down so there was no real reason you had to stay in LA.

That was three months ago now and honestly, you both love living together. So much so that last week he asked you if you wanted to make it permanent. Of course, you'd said yes. The two of you had just slotted into each other's routines and quirks so seamlessly it was like you'd been living together for years. Your two-year relationship has never been stronger.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by another loud crash.

"Damn it" you hear him say, sounding extremely frustrated.

"What the hell is he doing?" you say to yourself as you get up and throw on his shirt from yesterday before heading out to see what all the commotion was about.

Pressing your lips together, you hold back a laugh as you lean against the door frame and take in the sight in front of you.

The kitchen is a complete disaster. Flour is everywhere. The floor, the counter... Chris.

Lord knows what he's trying to do.

"What happened in here?" you ask, causing him to jump and quickly try to hide what he's doing behind his back.

"I thought you were asleep" he says, brushing away the flour from the front of his shirt.

"I was"

"Fuck... I woke you up, didn't I?"

"Yeah"

"I'm sorry"

"It's OK. What are you doing?"

"Nothing"

"Then why are you trying to hide baking supplies behind you?"

"Well... it's your birthday"

"Go on"

"I'm trying to bake you a birthday cake"

"Chris...

"I don't remember it being this hard when I helped Ma as a kid"

"That's because Mama Evans is an amazing baker and did all the work while simultaneously making you think you were helping"

You make your way over to him and brush the flour he's somehow managed to get in his hair before sitting on the bench opposite him.

"You, my love, are a man of many talents but cooking and baking isn't really one of them" you tell him as you rest your arms on his shoulders and play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"I make a mean pesto egg, everyone loves them" he says, wearing the cute pout you love.

"They are an exception"

"I should have just got a box mix, I know I can't fuck that up"

"You went to all this effort just for me, you have no idea how much that means"

"We're stuck in lockdown and your family's on the other side of the country. I just... I wanted to make your day special"

"You make all my days special" you tell him quietly as a smile spreads across your face. You've never met anyone as loving as him. You don't know what you did to deserve him in your life, but you thank whatever greater power is responsible every single day that he is.

"I wanted today to be extra special. It's not every day that you turn thirty" he says with a shit eating grin that makes you roll your eyes.

"Urghhh, don't remind me"

"Hey, how to you think I feel, I'm the big four zero next year"

"I thought we were talking about me"

"We are, I was just saying"

"I can help, with the cake"

"Nope, it's your day".

"Is that so?"

"Yes"

"So does that mean I get to do whatever I want?"

"Yep"

"Then, I'm going to remove my boyfriend's shirt in the middle of the kitchen so he doesn't make a mess on the way to the bedroom".

"And why am I going to the bedroom exactly?"

"Because it's my birthday and I want my man to eat me out then rail me into the bed until I can't remember my own name"

"Well, in that case" he says with a smirk as he lifts his arms up like a child, making you laugh before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You lean forward and kiss his chest as he takes his shirt from you and blindly throws it over his shoulder into the pile of flour on the counter.

He takes your face and kisses you, hard, before sliding his hands down your back to your hips and pulling you close, your chests flush with each other.

You let out a quiet moan as he starts pressing open mouthed kisses up your neck, wrapping your legs around his waist when he sinks his teeth into your skin before tracing it with his tongue to soothe the sting.

He knows exactly what to do to make you come undone in 0.5 seconds.

"Fuck, Chris" you gasp, threading you fingers into his hair as he sucks a bruise onto your flesh. You pull his hair, bringing his face back to yours and kissing him.

He pulls away with a grin, making you whimper and follow him, trying to lock lips again.

With a chuckle he puts his hands under your thighs and lifts you off the bench, throwing yo over his shoulder.

"Chris!" you squeal as he starts heading towards the bedroom, Dodger following right behind him.

"No Bub. Trust me, you don't want to see what I'm about to do" he tells your fur baby, slapping you ass as if to prove a point, making you squeal again.

It's about to be the best birthday ever...

GENERAL TAGLIST: @aussieez @rookiemartin @babeyyemor @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @chickensarentcheap @dhoruwolfie @themaradwrites @cali-nyc5 @darsynia @diamondoftheball @wewannasaygoodnight @sweetbunnyliddle @kingliam2019 @angelcavill66 @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @secretdream2 @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @dream-beyond-the-fantasy @ktficworld @juliaorplI78 @henry-cavs-tudor @red-write-hand @queenzee27 @kandis-mom

[ravioliet]

ok so let me be cringe on main for a minute here (this is a joke btw i know cringe isn't real). odd squad mlp au for your consideration

please ask me questions about this by the way i have so much for this. i'll put some of the basic info (it's a lot more than that now but in my defense it started as a basic summary) and a few more drawings under the cut though please look at it with your eyes thank you

so for some basic explanations we have Olive who is a unicorn, Otto who is a pegasus, Olympia who is a part unicorn earth pony (which i'll explain in a sec), and Otis who is a full blooded pegasus (which i'll also explain the importance of in a moment). i haven't drawn Ms. O, Oscar or Oona yet but they are an alicorn (formerly an earth pony), a unicorn, and an earth pony respectively

Olive and Otto are the only two that i've come up with cutie mark designs for so far (they are so hard to design..) but Olympia and Otis have them too, they just get them mid-season. specifically after the talent show. i'm designing them side by side so that they kinda match because they get them at the same time and also they're besties your honor, but anyways theirs are a little fireworks design and some sort of a swan design because y'know. the ugly duckling story. and also i think part of his talent is dancing and like swan lake exists etc etc. and yes this does mean that he's a little bit scared of his own cutie mark at times but he just tries not to think about it and usually covers it with his wings anyway. all four of their cutie mark meanings are kinda abstract personality trait related things

Olive got hers after stopping the pienado because character development moments, which also kinda means that she's sorta tied to Todd because of this which she Does Not Like. i'll need to make a whole other post about Todd in this au because he's definitely a guy, but anyways while they were partners Olive was a blank flank and despite how good at his job he was Todd was one too and it was like one of the only things they really had in common, but it also ends up being one of the reasons he goes rogue because not only is Todd bored but he's also frustrated because he's tried everything he can think of and won every award he possibly can and he still doesn't have a cutie mark even though he feels like he definitely should by now because this has to be his talent. why would he be so good at it if it wasn't? he doesn't get his cutie mark until after he reforms btw, because before then he was either too certain about his talent being something else or too busy causing trouble to entertain himself that he never really took the time to stop and discover that his actual interest was gardening and that's when he finally gets his cutie mark. in my head i have this alternate version of Otis's tomato speech where when Todd is like "i'm Odd Todd it's who i am" Otis is just like "that's not what your cutie mark says" and it's very silly but anyways i'm gonna circle this back around to Olive real quick

so on top of Todd's cutie mark being in gardening he also has a sort of side meaning as well in the sense that he's a little bit like the CMC and has a sort of knack for encouraging character growth in others whether he realizes it or not because. encouraging plants to grow.. encouraging people to grow... the whole villain rehab thing...... you see what i'm getting at here. but the funny thing is the first pony he really did this to was Olive and it was completely unintentional. he didn't know that she would get her cutie mark by stopping him, at least not consciously, but she did. it probably takes him quite some time before he actually puts together the fact that he's had that talent the whole time.

Otto's cutie mark is a lot sillier. he actually doesn't know how he got it or what it means (as mentioned earlier it's symbolic but he doesn't know that. also shoutout to Shroom aka Evillandscaper for suggesting a paper crane because i did NOT know what i was gonna make it) he just kinda walked into work one day and Olive was like "oh cool you got your cutie mark?" and Otto was just like "WAIT I GOT MY CUTIE MARK?????" cue a whole silly filler episode involving the two of them trying to figure out what it means and also Olive having a crisis over the fact that Otto can do that pegasus thing where they use their wings like cartoon hands. both of these become running bits from then on. also i drew this comic about it and it might be one of my favorite things i've made for this au honestly

and on the topic of cutie marks as i previously mentioned, Olympia and Otis both get theirs after the talent show and they're also matching a little bit. theirs are also personality things but in addition to that Otis's is also for dancing and Olympia's is for magic, and you may be wondering how an earth pony can be a magic talent and this is where that half unicorn thing comes in!

so Olympia is half unicorn half earth pony which i don't think is too uncommon on its own, but the thing that makes her weird is that she inherited traits from both sides instead of just one over the other, so she actually has unicorn magic but no horn to actually use it with so she's unable to cast actual spells or anything but her magic will kinda spill over at times, especially if she's emotional, and cause things to happen like that one time she exploded into glitter when interviewing Olive or of course the fireworks! she's kind of like the Pinkie Pie character who just does unexplained things sometimes she's just very silly. fun fact in her ref you can see that her mane and tail are sparkly and that's because they kinda just perpetually look like they have glitter in them, but the thing is it's not really glitter it's all just magic. i imagine her coat is like this as well but i just didn't draw it in

also as a side note it came to my attention that she bears an uncanny similarity to Sparkleworks from G3 and i have absolutely no idea how that happened At All. like they have the same cutie mark and everything it's so weird. i've never even watched G3 i'm a G4 kid i legitimately have no clue how the hell this happened. i did make this out of it though

anyways for Otis, he's a pegasus of course but he's specifically a Cloudsdale weather pegasus, which yes i did make up but hear me out. so basically in my mind pegasi born in somewhere like Cloudsdale are more likely to have weather talents or like. stronger abilities in controlling the weather and such, which means stuff like larger wings and weatherproof wings and feathers to make it easier to deal with storms and stuff like that, so basically all this is just an excuse for me to give Otis waterproof feathers like a duck. but anyways since he was still raised by the ducks he doesn't actually know he's from Cloudsdale or anything so he just thinks he's weird for the feathers thing

okay i have. way more but i'm cutting myself off here so i don't overload everyone with information but anyways, please ask me about them, and also here's some extra drawings i've done of them :3

[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

[christinesficrecs]

Hello!! I hope you’re having an amazing day your blog literally means so much to me.

If this isn’t too much to ask, I would really love some angsty low self esteem Sterek fics. Happy ending only, though. It could be either insecure!Derek or insecure!Stiles, I’m good with either! I really appreciate it :) thank you!

That's so nice!! 🥰 These are only a little angsty, because I'm me. ;) And I possibly tripped over some mutual pining fics. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by DefNotForWork | 17.3K | Explicit

In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totally different conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they love each other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

Convenient by  exclamation | 10.7K

Stiles knows what he is to Derek: convenient. He knows that Derek isn’t looking for a relationship, just someone to have casual sex with. Which is why Stiles is so surprised to find Derek setting up a romantic dinner for Valentine’s Day.

It’s Been Four Hundred and Ninety Days by paradis | 4.4K

It’s been four hundred and ninety days, and it took Derek forever but they’re at day one again.

I Just Want You For My Own (More Than You Could Ever Know) by yodasyoyo | 16K

“What is with that sweater, dude?”

Derek ducks his head to look at it, abashed. “Uh- Mrs Hernandez knitted it for me. It’s an early Christmas gift.” He smooths it down self-consciously.

Stiles cocks an eyebrow.

“What? She’s my neighbor and sometimes I-” Derek trails off. Stiles’ other eyebrow rises to join the first, and Derek sighs. “Sometimes I help her carry her groceries."

Of course he does. One day maybe Stiles will stop being in love with Derek Hale, but today is not that day.

Hide by dr_girlfriend | 12.4K | Explicit

Stiles has been rejected so many times that it doesn’t really surprise him when it happens again. Hurts, yeah, because dammit — he’d thought Derek was the one. Heartbreak sucks, and he’s not so sure he’s going to get over it this time.

Incommunicado by WhoNatural | 5.4K | Mature

Why is Derek being so weird?

Derek looks up from where he’s adjusting his shirt back into his pants - really? - and pauses. “Stiles?”

Clearly something in his scent is giving him away, but he’s too busy swallowing against the sting of bile that has made its way into his throat and checking behind the couch for future murder victims because Derek is totally cheating on him.

Cookies, coffee and shut the fucupcakes by DropsOfAddiction | 26.2K | Explicit

“Ok. I’ve got a few shirts with me because I came here straight from work, but I think it’s going to be a tight fit. I know I’m not as skinny as I used to be but I’m not exactly the same hunky physique as you, oh grand macho werewolf,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek runs his eyes blatantly over Stiles’ chest.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Derek mutters, and he slams his mouth shut, teeth audibly clacking together, as if he really hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

And Dwell Beneath My Shadow by lielabell | 8.6K

Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It’s clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles’s body can’t help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn’t the first– and most likely won’t be the last– hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek. 

A Little Sugar by exclamation | 4.9K | Mature

The first time they had sex, it was after Derek paid Stiles’ rent. The second time was after Derek bought Stiles’ groceries. It wasn’t hard to work out the pattern. Derek hates himself for taking advantage of Stiles and tries to convince him that any form of payment is unnecessary, but he can’t seem to break the cycle.

waiting for you to say it first by paradis | 8.2K

Four months.

Four months they’ve managed to avoid one another. Stiles quit going to pack meetings. He quit doing research unless Scott really, really begged him to. He avoided driving the road that led out to the turnoff to the Hale house, he avoided going to all the spots where Derek might possibly be. Four months, and now, here they are, standing in the Minit Mart, Stiles thinks, staring down at the grimy tiles. He can hear the catch of Derek’s breath, and he closes his eyes and breathes deep.

Safety in Silence by Survivah | 66.9K

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

Relationship Status: It's complicated by kellifer_fic | 4K | Mature

Okay, I know this is a huge stretch for you, but can you please pretend you're like, into me?

Have It All by doc_sock | 5.8K

Derek is glad that he and Stiles are fuck buddies, really. So he wants more than that. So what? It’s not like what he wants is important.

Stay, Stay, Stay by  drunktuesdays | 2.2K

He should have expected this. He knew it, knew Stiles was always in this temporarily. Derek knew it wasn’t forever. The only thing that’s surprising is that Stiles is lying about it.

Closer Than Most by Finduilas | 46.9K | Explicit

Laura organizes a charity bachelor auction to raise money for the wolf sanctuary she and Derek inherited from their parents. Derek reluctantly gets roped into bidding on one of the bachelors, and he sure as hell doesn't know what he's getting himself into when he decides to bid on Stiles.

A Question of Pack by CawCawMF | 5.2K

Stiles had always been sure of his place in the pack. That place being the absolute lowest tier in the hierarchy of werewolf pack dynamics, but he was sure of it all the same. He wasn’t necessary exactly, since just about anyone could conduct research on supernatural mythology, but his job was still important to the pack and he felt good about that. At least, that’s what he always thought. That all came crumbling down one sunny afternoon in the form of Jackson’s big mouth.

[nicromancytarot]

MY MAIN SPIRITUAL AWAKENING

I should start off by saying that this awakening and information links into one of my past lives, I wasn’t aware at the time because I didn’t find out about this past life until pretty much a year after my awakening, but this information is the life path of that past life, and this is most likely my last life (which I can talk about if you’d like) so I gotta complete his mission in this one too!

Ok so picture this, March 2023, laying in bed on tiktok, I start seeing angel numbers every minute, they get more and more, this goes on for the entire next 2 days. I think I’m dying, I search up what that could mean (I also had a rash at the time that I thought was cancerous lmao, so that tops it off)

2 days later I awake from my slumber, it’s like 1pm and I’m hungry for my breakfast, so I get up and grab myself a bowl of noodles. And as I got to sit down back in my bed, I go “I wonder what happens after we die.”

Now, if you’re spiritual, you may know how it feels to ask a question out loud and receive a download of the answer, well that was exactly that.

All the sudden my mind is flooded with information, I began reciting it to better understand whatever the hell I was thinking.

These were my first studies on the subject, based off everything that I was channeling from I assume my spirit guides. So here’s a run down on what I learnt the first day.

Ignore the spelling mistakes, spelling is not one of my core strengths.

THE BLACK AND WHITE HOLE THEORY

The black and white hole theory is one that I hold very loosely, it basically just means that our universe is being projected in the middle of these two portals of gravitational points.

But it does feed into my favourite theory! Which we will get into later on as it’s later down in the storyline.

HYPNOSIS, HALLUCINATIONS, AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND

So I focused more on the power of our subconsciousness and what we can achieve. Our subconsciousness acts like a sponge, everything that you see, hear, touch, smell, taste is remembered by your subconscious mind. So you may see someone’s face and not actually remember them consciously, but find that they seem familiar due to your subconscious memory.

I mentioned hallucinations and schizophrenia, treading very carefully here, it is within one of my theories that both of those occur when someone’s subconsciousness is overpowered compared to their consciousness, causing seeing, hearing and experiencing things that are not real.

My main proof of this possibility is that I experience something called Hypnopompic hallucinations, these occur as someone is awakening. You experience a hallucination caused by the fact that you are still in a state of relaxation and your subconsciousness is in control of your mind at that time.

Some things I have experienced:

- Bugs crawling on my body, I woke up and proceeded to strip myself out of my clothes and throw them on the floor, it only lasted around thirty seconds and then I realised it wasn’t real and went back to sleep.

- Bugs crawling under my sheets, I jumped up, waking up my cat in the process, lasted 10-15 seconds.

- A snake on my bed, my most recent one, I woke up and saw a snake on the side of my bed, I pulled myself out in such an awkward way and went to grab a blanket to remove it, then realised it wasn’t real. Lasted 30 seconds.

- A man standing by the side of my bed. TERRIFYING, I didn’t sleep for 2 days after this dude. I woke up and saw a man standing at the side of my bed, a minute later, while hiding under my sheets, I realised he wasn’t real and proceeded to cry about it to my friends lmao.

So why does this relate to daylight hallucinations and cases of schizophrenia? My mother is schizophrenic so I had a little interview with her about it, we both agreed that hallucinations, no matter if caused by a natural phenomenon or some imbalance in the chemical reactions of your brain, they still feel very real. I woke up to that snake and thought it was real, my heart was racing, the same way that she describes her hallucinations. The medication used in cases of schizophrenia and hallucinations most likely alters the chemical reactions between the conciousness and subconsciousness in the brain, therefore lowering the reaction of the subconscious side.

Going back to hypnosis, I didn’t believe in this shit for the longest time, but the scientific explanation is easy to explain. During hypnosis the individual gets into a relaxed state, in which we would refer to as being the same as a heightened subconsciousness induced hallucination episode. Therefore those who respond well to their time under hypnosis will actually experience seeing and believing in things because their subconsciousness (which has no understanding of reality, hence whacky dreams) is the one responding.

WHAT IS REAL?

So now we’ve learnt that your subconsciousness controls things that aren’t necessarily real, what does that mean? Well your subconsciousness is more active in states of relaxation, that’s how dreams, hypnosis, astral travel and others all occur.

This is also the part of your brain partial to experiencing deja vu, something that your consciousness cannot remember but your subconsciousness does.

So what does this mean for our reality? Well if we can experience the astral via our subconscious response, and experience things that are not real, that leads us to the three points of reality.

3D, 4D, 5D

The physical realm, spiritual realm, and the astral realm.

An important thing to know about these is that the 4D and 5D work simultaneously and are connected. This is because everything that doesn’t exist physically must exist spiritually, so every thought, idea, manifestation exist in the 4D, this is because non-physical matter must expel spiritually. Now we as physical beings cannot access the 4D, however we can exist in its buddy, the 5D, this is where our dreams take place, astral travel, meditation.

So why can’t we access the spiritual if it is connected to the astral? Because physical matter does not expel spiritually. Even when we are in the astral, we are always tried down to our physical body. In cases of shifting realities you can go and experience another reality, however now you’re tied down to another physical body, and therefore not in the spiritual.

So what is in the spiritual? Spirits, manifestations, desires, dreams, hopes, ideas, the multiverse, the afterlife, God’s, dieties. All of the above are spiritual matter.

There is only one thing to connect the physical and spiritual realms, and that’s energy, imagine having a rope in between the two, that’s energy, it flows simultaneously though both realms, and even towards the astral and anything more.

SO DEATH? WHAT IS DEATH?

Death is the act of physical disconnection to the 3D. When someone dies, they can no longer have a physical attachment to that universe as their body is not responsive to their soul.

Perhaps you’ll like to hear this, maybe you won’t. Personally it gives me some peace of mind after five years of solely believing in quantum immortality. But your afterlife is what you make of it.

We have already noted that EVERYTHING that doesn’t exist physically must exist spiritually, so that means when we access the spiritual, we can do whatever we want. Reincarnate, spend time with family, become a spirit, meet your Gods or deities, it’s truly up to you from here on out.

BACK TO LIFE EXPERIENCES

When someone passes on but comes back to life, there is a very different reaction to this. In the physical only present time exists, but in the spiritual you can access both the past and future, so when someone dies and becomes of spiritual matter, they’re future dictation could keep them connected to their physical body.

Most likely they will end up in the void, it’s like the afterlife but it’s within the astral, this is a place where whatever you want can happen, a lot like the spiritual, but here you are still connected to your physical body and can be brought back whenever. And that’s what happens. The void is a black endless space, so some people with back to life experiences have said that they experienced meeting God, while others only saw a black void of endless time. That my friends is the lovely void state. You can access this while alive, it’s the best for manifestation, astral projection and shifting realities.

THE INTEGRITY OF A TRIANGLE

My favourite theory!!!

Triangles have three points and are the most stable shape in the entire world, what else has three points? that’s right, time.

PAST —> PRESENT —> FUTURE

But a triangle with three sides is only one triangle, in the same way that three forms of time only equate to one.

The present tense. That’s how we experience everything. Eight years ago I experienced in the present, although now we call it the past. And in 20 years will be my future, but I’ll experience it presently.

We can only exist in the present.

So going back to our black and white hole theory. Three points of time. The white hole (past), the black hole (future) and in the middle? The universe.

PAST —> PRESENT —> FUTURE

WHITE —> UNIVERSE —> BLACK

The integrity of a triangle.

I have an entire book of this stuff and could talk about it for days, but that’s a fair amount of it simplified.

If i disappear, I would never kill myself!! I’ve probably been found by the FBI 🫶🏻

[natimiles]

Hihi! I saw your post! ^-^ if it's ok, may I request Roger from ikevil and kiss on the neck? (If you're still taking requests!) Thank you for doing this event! It's really fun! Hope you're having a lovely day!!!

Hiii! Yes, I was still taking requests when you sent this! Just took me some time to get to it hehe

I’m glad you liked the event! I hope you have a lovely day/night too 🤍🤍

Roger + Neck

Words: 382

Tags: established relationship; no pronouns for reader.

Your mind slowly regains consciousness, pulling you out of your dreams and bringing you back to reality. You open your eyes, and the profile of your boyfriend’s face is the first thing you see. You smile, observing how soft and innocent Roger looks while sleeping, all his guards down, his hair more disheveled than usual.

Propping yourself on your elbow, you carefully reach for his short fringe, brushing it to the side. Your fingertips travel over his forehead, down his eyebrows, and to the bridge of his nose. You feel warm inside, in a way that only Roger can make you feel. You start to lean forward but stop for a moment when you realize what you’re doing. You shift your gaze, scanning his features and slowly traveling down to his neck.

Before you can think again about whether you should do it or not, you close the gap and place a soft kiss on the column of his throat.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t do it,” he whispers.

“Oh my—!” You try to suppress a yelp as you jolt back.

Roger laughs, truly amused by your reaction. He can hear how your heart is beating faster now, from both the little scare he gave you and from before. He’s been awake for a while now, just listening to you and all the sounds you make, enjoying how he can easily tell what you’re thinking just from them.

“Where are you going?” He turns on his side and reaches for you, encircling his arms around you and pulling you closer again. “It’s only fair that it’s my turn now.”

His strong arms lightly squeeze you, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickles you, but you let him stay there, your hands going to the back of his head, playing with his hair.

Roger places a soft, gentle kiss on your neck and stays there with his lips still pressed against your skin. You’re used to him doing that now, a loving smile plastering your face. He closes his eyes, loving the way he can almost feel your pulse with his lips, listening to every beat of your heart. It always does wonders to both soothe him and make his own heart quicken.

Taglist: @judejazza @chandeliermichel @leia-skywalker-organa

• @olivermorningstar @queengiuliettafirstlady @koco-coko

Beneath The Milky Twilight ♥ Event Masterlist

[yujeong]

I hope it's ok to throw up some Pete thoughts into your inbox, but that last rb of the fake vegaspete scenes has me thinking soooo many thoughts too. Even thinking about the original scene with Pete giving Porsche blocking advice... Do you think it's hard for Pete not to just see the violence in everything? Do you think it's hard for him to tell the difference? Was it easier for him to project his trauma onto Vegas than it was Porsche? Sorry sorry, my brain is kicking around so many hypotheticals that I almost want to write poetry

Oh anon, first of all, you can always come and throw at me *all* the Pete thoughts, I assume you've seen my blog and know how I'm like about that man. Second of all, damn, those questions are fascinating. I've never actually thought of Pete and violence and sex in that way before, at least not consciously (I think - I've only been thoroughly obsessing over him for almost 2 years lol). But anyway, for starters, I don't believe Pete is a stranger to sex. Even if he's a virgin in the show (something that was never confirmed), he's not oblivious to it. No matter the show's insistence at using Pete for comedic purposes in regards to him not knowing KP were a thing, I refuse to believe it! So, while, unfortunately, the scene with Porsche and the hickeys cannot really be interpreted in any other way than Pete having misunderstood what he saw on Porsche's neck, your question raises a good point for his character: does every act, including sex, involve violence for him? In my opinion, yes. Yes it does. Pete seeing the potential violence in everything could be a trauma response or a defense mechanism, both of which highly probable, as evidenced in ep4 with the table scene (though in that one, we had actual violence and potential escalated violence, depending on Tankhun's behaviour which Pete tried to control). Because of this, I don't think it's a matter of him finding it hard or not; it's a subconscious thing. I also don't think it'd be hard for him to tell the difference, but rather, Pete wouldn't *need* to tell the difference, because sex isn't something made for him. He's never thought it'd be something he would experience in his life before Vegas, so why distinguish one kind of violence from another? This is one of the main reasons why I utterly love their NC scene: it wasn't violent. Sure, it might have been painful - Pete hadn't completely healed yet, he was still wearing bandages and, depending on one's headcanon or not, penetration surely hurt to some degree - but it wasn't violent. It was hot kisses and licking necks and ass eating and slow thrusts and more kisses and.. yeah, you get the point. I believe it wasn't what Pete expected, same as the audience who witnessed it. Perhaps he expected another kind of violence, but got something completely different in the end, which is why Vegas using the handcuff again hit Pete so hard. The usual kind of violence returning, after the lack of it. He got too comfortable. He forgot to protect himself from the violence. Now, in regards to your last question, I believe Vegas' trauma is easier for Pete to project himself onto because it's a mirror (something @loveliesblood has actually said, because their brilliant character interpretations are brilliant). Pete's been there before, so he can empathize with a lost Vegas who's only response to the abuse is to blame himself. There's also the safety of distance: the days he'd been subjected to boxing against his will are over, so he's not in direct danger of his father abusing him like Vegas is. With Porsche, it's a little tricky. Taking as a hypothetical that he learns about what happened to Porsche somehow, the story hits a little *too* close to home for him to be able to process the trauma. There's no distance this time: it's here and now and he has to face it. But Pete is a hypocrite with no clue of what introspection means, so he shields himself from it, like he tries to do in ep13, in the infamous bathtub scene with Porsche, my favourite scene in the whole show. He cowers and hides and deflects. It's gorgeously agonizing to watch and I love it so, so much. This ended up being a little too long and I'm scared that I fucked up your incredible ask, but to salvage it a little bit, I'd like to highly encourage you to write the poetry you mentioned; we can never have enough of it, especially in the VP fandom. I'm sure it'll be wonderful ❤️ (Shoutout to @musictooth and their series of made-up vegaspete scenes, thank you so much for the brainworms haha)

[beanghostprincess]

Usopp having massive crush on sanji to the point where it's overwhelming. Sanji surprisingly is more suave and charismatic being a gentleman, He gives him food and drinks. Usopp on the other hand never really having any experience with crushes he's flustered beyond belief giggling and avoiding his gaze.

Sanji notices this and decides to push further by flirting and being more affectionate wanting to see how far he can go. Every wink and smile he gives Usopp covers his face with his hat trying to hide his redness. When he tries to form sentences it only comes out in rambles and giggles. He could feel Usopp trembling under his touch every time he wraps an arm around him. He tries to ignore when his hands sweat when he's holding them, not to embarrass him or make things awkward.

Zoro and Franky would have to catch him when it becomes too much and faints much to sanji 's delight. He's loving it, having his affections and flirtations actually be reciprocated and actually have someone swoon when he does it Is it so vindicating.

When he's not near sanji he's talking about sanji or admiring him from afar. Everyone thinks It's amusing how smitten he is for the loser cook except for Zoro but Zoro is a fucking hater and this isn't about him. He reminds him of Pudding when he is on whole cake island. (Minus the concerning age gap and her being slightly unhinged)

One of his greatest achievements was when the ship was hit by a big wave knocking everyone over. helping chopper and Nami up he was almost hit by usopp but caught him in time.

Usopp was taken a back a little bit, kind of losing consciousness. Once he came to he realized that he was in sanji's arm one hand grabbing onto his pec that was resting under a very wet t-shirt. It must have been too much cuz it looks like you blew a fuse and passed out when he was asked if we was ok. Before sanji could boast about his latest conquest he was yelled at chopper for causing an extreme nose bleed. Unlike sanji's nose bleeds that are just massive explosions, usopp's is just a nonstop flow from his nose to the ground.

"Zoro is a fucking hater but this isn't about him" is the best way to explain his role in every Sanuso thing I write, so thanks for putting it into words.

Okay, I absolutely love this. Because we Sanusos have different ways of seeing these two idiots flirting, and I honestly think that they're so well-written you could change roles here and it would somehow still work. And because I always talk about Sanji being the one blushing and Usopp heavily flirting with him (I have a favorite dynamic and it shows, but anyway-) I think it's time for a change of roles because this is just,, So sweet,,

Imagine Sanji being overly confident when Usopp reacts to his flirting. It's the first time he actively swoons over a man, and he didn't expect him to respond. So saying he's happy would be an understatement. He's SO proud of himself and he just wants to keep seeing how far his flirting with Usopp can go because he genuinely, really, really likes him. He isn't sure if it's love love but he,,, He likes Usopp an insane amount. If he's being honest, more than he likes anybody else, but don't tell that to Nami or she'll get jealous (or so Sanji says. She doesn't give a single fuck).

So he keeps flirting with Usopp all the damn time. Calling him pet names. Bringing food. Talking to him in French. Insisting to be alone together. Listening to everything he says. He keeps being all touchy and clingy with him too in the most casual of ways (I think this is not intentional, by the way, they're just like this and now that they have crushes on each other they notice this more). Literally, anybody looking at them could see hearts in both of their eyes.

Sanji just feels so proud and happy when Usopp reacts to his flirting. Like genuinely happy. Smiling wide. Blushing. Everything. He's just excited somebody's paying attention to him for once (not my words, Zoro's. His wording was more brutal, though). And he notices the way Usopp looks at him and the little things he does when he thinks Sanji isn't looking. Like staring from afar and talking about him or finding excuses to be together.

The thing about Sanji saving Usopp, with his soaked shirt and everything, is that I think Sanji would've done this without thinking about the consequences. He's just saving Usopp. He's genuinely worried about his life. And then Usopp starts bleeding and Sanji finally knows what it feels like to be on the other end of the situation because seeing your crush having a nosebleed for you might boost your ego, but it's pretty worrying in the end.

I also wanna add another situation, and it's that I think Sanji can't handle alcohol. Two cups of whatever cocktail he made and he's losing his mind after the third sip ("Fucking lightweight" I say, as if I weren't literally the same). The thing is, he keeps flirting with Usopp one day when they throw a party (for no reason other than they're pirates and they like drinking) and it's the most pathetic thing ever. Hurts to witness. Because drunk Sanji in my opinion is"very very honest Sanji. No filter Sanji" and he keeps saying everything he thinks about Usopp and being extremely clingy. And you'd think that would be annoying, but Usopp is having a whole ass gay crisis right now while Sanji hugs him close and whispers everything to him, laughing against his neck and literally just, being extremely sweet without even realizing. Usopp is dying. Usopp died.

[emblazons]

i’m about a month late to the ffvii rebirth fanfare but i saw your study/shot comparison for the ending while scrolling through some tags and was really curious to see if you had come up with any more conclusions since then! i just finished it a couple days ago and still reeling from it and have been enjoying hearing people’s thoughts about what the heck they think is going on. obvs cloud is not ok, but i’m still trying to decide just how much of what we’re seeing is due to his sanity going out the window and how much of it (if any) is aerith actually speaking to him and/or sephiroth messing with him. the way he tells the rest of the party to not look up at the sky though and none of them see what he sees, just clues them all in to the fact that he isn’t entirely all there anymore. a collective very concerned side-eye lol. somebody help him pls.

!!! oh friend, you're in a TON of luck: I actually started a few different commentaries on how I saw the ending on this weeks back, but didn't post them because I got distracted by other fandoms? I'm more than happy to share them though—not as developed as they could be, but some congealing of where my mind went upon finishing the game and rewatching the gameplay.

forewarning: FFVII ending spoilers + a long af post lmao

So I wrote this on my twitter (where I go to see things only on twt lol) the other day because of a bunch of concepts were clarified by the Ultimania + translators, which kinda sums up where my thoughts are:

Which...yeah. As I see it: as of the ending, Aerith is in fact dead in our current world (the one of the player narrative). How I see it, she's died in our primary timeline—though likely "alive" in the same way Zack is in some other timeline, in addition to her connection to every "universe" through the power of her connection to the planet as the last Cetra.

The white whispers (which represent Aerith/the will of the planet) as well as the “confluence of world” colors we see with Sephiroth are all around when Cloud supposedly “sees her alive" during the classic death scene—

—an indicator that the event itself was the "confluence" Sephiroth was trying to achieve, with Cloud experiencing several versions of it due to his own connection to Sephiroth/the lifestream/his fragmented mind. We see this both in what Sephiroth says around the event itself....and also the contrasting experiences of our party with what Cloud sees in the moment (+ through end of the game).

As I see it, Cloud’s consciousness by the end of FFVII:R-II is fully fractured; throughout both Remake & Rebirth he is already seeing visions affected by Sephiroth’s influence on the planet (the black whispers, the way hooded men and thin air turn into Sephiroth before his eyes)—and now, during the “confluence of emotions / worlds / reunion” mentioned (Aerith's death), Cloud’s already broken mind is slipping further into seeing “the middle space” of the worlds joined and prepared for destruction by Sephiroth in real time, rather than following the timeline of events in the world we play—a la the post that inspired your ask. :)

All that said: the reason he’s seeing Aerith (not just sensing her the way Red does in his own Lifestream connection) is because she’s a Cetra, and now (in death) the embodiment of the positive!Will of Gaia across worlds—so because of Cloud's connection to that "middle space" / ability to traverse different versions of reality because of his connection to Sephiroth, Cloud is interacting with her presence…despite it not being there for anyone else.

It’s also why he can see the sky split no one else can.

ADDITIONALLY:

The Aerith we see fight alongside Cloud in the final battle and the one we see walking around everyone as Cid fixes the plane…that’s the spirit of her person (think the Aerith of Advent Children). Aerith didn’t live this game—her spirit can communicate because of Sephiroth's successful confluence, though she’s ALSO "alive" in the same way Zack and Biggs are to us: aka she died in the world she was in but still exists in others, which Sephiroth confirms/explains both when Aerith pulls Cloud into another “doomed” world—

when he’s trying to manipulate Cloud in the Lifestream—

and when you’re fighting Sephiroth alongside Aerith in the void during the final battle (after she’s died).

Even so, Aerith “living on” as the last Cetra/the spirit of the planet + someone with access to multiple worlds through the "reunion" means she’s now as able to infiltrate Cloud's ongoing visions as Sephiroth is...and is likely trying to keep him even somewhat present despite his clearly fractured mind.

I think that’s implied repeatedly by through the hollow Holy Materia (implying both Aerith is no longer “there,” but still present + that cloud himself is now hollow)—

—and why/how the Black Materia (Sephiroth) is still manipulating him and very much driving his fractured thoughts, visions and actions.

As for the rest of the party: it's because no one but his “vessel-connected-to-Sephiroth” self (+ now dead-but-living-on-in-the-Lifestream Aerith) has any idea what he learned about worlds in the Lifestream that what’s happening to Cloud is lost on everyone (and why they look painfully concerned), and also why spirit!Aerith repeatedly gives him reminders to 1) not listen to Sephiroth and 2) focus on finding himself again.

All that said: because Cloud’s actual self is already slipping away from our present game TL by the second half of the game, it will have to be retrieved and rearranged—which we know will happen in game 3 (assuming you know the original FF7 plot where Tifa rearranges him in the Lifesteam) but that has to be changed from “Cloud finds out about Zack and finally cracks" because Cloud already knows about Zack in some capacity by the middle of Rebirth.

I personally think this sets us up for a really interesting resolution in that Tifa is going to probably have spirit!Aerith’s help putting Cloud back together in the Lifestream in game 3—and that she will likely play a bigger part in helping Cloud “find himself” in his own world again because it’s been made more apparent that she’s a full consciousness in the Lifestream/able to affect multiple worlds now because of Sephiroth completing the first step in his plan. That's more just hopeful on my part going into the next game than something rooted in analysis though.

But yes! those are my thoughts! I hope this gives you (more than a little) something. Feel free to ask if something isn’t clear though lol this was like 4 different half-done drafts combined 😂 Regardless, ty so much for the ask / giving me a reason to post them!

[butchhamlet]

hi it's me again im the anon who dropped about 800 words about ocd hamlet a couple weeks ago (maybe longer, time has been weird for me lately).. it made me soo happy to see it resonated with you and with some other people who reblogged it as well!! i've been projecting on hamlet ever since i read it and it feels like every time i read it i learn more about him AND me... and ever since Symptoms showed up he's been even dearer to me and im just so glad people like my interpretation as well :)

i hope it's ok for me to do this again because i want to talk about what if lady macbeth has ocd also. and i know this is sort of well. dangerous if that's the right word because 1) lady macbeth IS the villain in her play even if i love her from the bottom of my heart and i support everything she does and ocd is already an incredibly stigmatised and misunderstood 2) hand washing is possibly THE most stereotyped compulsion that sort of epitomises this really warped view of ocd in the public consciousness. i personally do not have handwashing as a compulsion or really any physical compulsions that are direct responses to my intrusive thoughts so i will try to be really really careful when im talking about this. + other disclaimers: again while i have definitely experienced symptoms of ocd i do not know if i have it and i am NOT diagnosed + ocd experiences are different for everyone + you cannot diagnose a character because they are not real + this one is mostly projection and is more a frame of reading than it is an interpretation grounded in textual evidence (esp since i will be talking about the sleepwalking asleep a LOT and she is technically, well. sleeping.) so just. take everything with a pinch of salt and please let me know if i ever overstep!!

im mainly going to be drawing on experiences close to real event ocd even though i know that typically real event ocd is defined by the fact that the sufferer blows their past mistakes way out of proportion and/or question their memories, and i guess i cannot say that lady macbeth’s guilt is completely unjustified because uh. she did kill a man.! but i do think her behaviours after the murder reflects what i’ve seen people speak about online as well as some of the experiences i’ve had. 

guilt as illness

this is more general to the whole play i guess but i wanted to point out how the consequences of the macbeths’ regicide is absolutely portrayed as a disease. there’s a LOT of foreshadowing in lady macbeth’s advice to her husband in the immediate aftermath of their murder: she tells him not to “think / so brain sickly of things”, and says, “these deeds must not be thought / after these ways so, it will make us mad”. (2.ii) the doctor later alludes to “infected minds” (5.i) in relation to lady macbeth’s madness. the fact that the fixation on guilt is seen as an illness i think fits so well with ocd: whenever im having a bad day with intrusive thoughts and mental spirals it genuinely feels like there is something festering in my brain like a parasite feeding on anxiety. 

guilt is also so intrinsically linked to sleep in macbeth: famously macbeth comes out of the king’s chamber ranting about how he may “sleep no more; macbeth doth murder sleep”, and lady macbeth’s obsession pours out of her when she is sleeping (and this is exactly why a doctor is called). i would argue that fucked up sleep is somewhat presented as an illness in ‘macbeth’ too; or if not, at least unnatural. this idea is all over act 2 scene ii (right after macbeth commits the murder) but i think it’s best epitomised in act 3 scene iv: “you lack the season of all natures, sleep.” (lady macbeth) season as in both night-season and seasoning/preservative. so sleep is both a natural part of life, and something that keeps things the way nature or god intended. the doctor says too that disturbed sleep is “a great perturbation in nature” (5.i). nightmares are DEFINITELY depicted as illness: macbeth says that they “sleep / in the affliction of these terrible dreams / that shake us nightly” (3.ii)

insomnia is highly associated with ocd since the obsessions/compulsions prevent sleep and sleep deprivation increases the commonality AND duration of obsession. if a significant portion of your day is spent devoted to obsessions/compulsions, there’s a chance they may become assimilated into intrusive dreams, since dreams are generally regarded as a way that the brain processes memories. thus, we can see that the way guilt in ‘macbeth’ is linked to disturbed sleep parallels how ocd is linked to sleep disorders. so not only is guilt itself an illness in ‘macbeth’, it links to other disorders too

2. withdrawal from dialogue

lady macbeth stops being on equal footing in terms of number of lines with macbeth after the murder. from act 3 she really only responds briefly to what macbeth says, and she’s not even in act 4. i sort of see that as her being dragged under her spiralling thoughts and retreating further and further back into her mind. i know i definitely zone out a LOT more on days where im being absolutely bombarded by intrusive thoughts. she’s definitely disoriented by the begining of act 3:

nought’s had, all's spent, where our desire is got without content. ’tis safer to be that which we destroy, than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. (3.ii)

the whole soliloquy (if you can even call it that—it’s only 2 couplets) is riddled with paradoxes and confusing wording. her mind is completely scattered and it feels to me as if she’s just been arguing with herself. this might be reaching slightly (as if this entire post isnt kind of reaching already. sorry) but to me it kind of mirrors the absurd leaps of logic my intrusive thoughts and rumination can sometimes take: how can it be “safer” to be destroyed? how can “joy” be doubtful? it doesn’t make sense, and it’s confusing and frightening, but it feels absolutely real. (also note: as you’ve said before ocd is sometimes called the doubting disease. and lady macbeth calls her experience “doubtful”….

3. the mad scene

(disclaimer again i KNOW she is supposed to be asleep the entire time BUT i am going to. sort of. ignore that. sorry</3)

in the beginning of act 5 scene i, lady macbeth’s lady-in-waiting says,

since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed — yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

i’ve never experienced physical compulsions myself, but this sort of repeated, methodical act matches how i’ve seen people describe them. the doctor specifically calls them “actual performances”, which suggest, i think, something mechanical and dictated in some way; “perform” is definitely a word i’ve seen people use to descrive carrying out compulsions. (do correct me if i’m wrong!)

then let’s look at lady macbeth’s actual speech:

out, damned spot, out, I say. — one, two — why, then, 'tis time to do't. — hell is murky. — fie, lord, fie, a soldier, and afeard! what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

the jumping around of her thoughts honestly feels exactly like my mind alternating between intrusive thoughts and desperately trying to justify why they aren’t true. she goes from reflecting on her debillitating guilt, to being anxious about going to hell, to replaying and checking her memories, to reassuring herself (and macbeth) that she won’t get caught, and then to thinking about her guilt again. it’s a rapid-fire, relentless cycle that continues throughout the scene. she’ll jump from reenacting a moment with her husband, to the obsessing over the blood on her hands, then back again. notably, in her address to macbeth, she never seems to be reenacting the exact same moment. she taunts him for his cowardice seemingly before the murder, then pleads with him, saying that “banquo cannot come out his grave”, then goes back to when they are fleeing the crime scene. i think this reflects the sort of distortion of memory that constant memory checking and ocd can cause. the moodswings and the flip-flopping between “everything’s fine” and “i’m going to hell” are also SO intense and honestly it’s exactly what it feels like on my worst days. 

in the entire scene, lady macbeth speaks in prose instead of verse: it’s obviously a sign of madness by itself, but i also think it reflects the complete loss of control she has over her thoughts and actions. in the beginning acts she is all about control: she demands “spirits / that tend on mortal thoughts” (1.v) to do her bidding, she tells macbeth to “leave all the rest to me” (1.v), and she tells him what to do at every moment. but at this point in the play she can’t stop the onslaught of regrets, guilt, and memories, and she can’t even control herself physically.

speaking of the elephant in the room: the excessive handwashing. i think of lady macbeth’s handwashing as less of a reaction to a genuine fear of contamination, but as something more akin to body-repetitive behaviours like skin-picking (dermatillomania) and hair-pulling (trichitillomania, which i think i have) which are associated with ocd.

i sort of headcanon lady macbeth to have absolutely horrible skin splits on her hands (<- this part is complete projection): and so following this interpretation, i think of her handwashing sort of as a form of self-flagellation because rubbing her hands continually will make the skin tear and bleed. (gore tw?) that, then, fits in with the blood on her hands: in her semi-conscious state she thinks it’s duncan’s, when it’s really hers.

i know that another common compulsion is counting: and lady macbeth does count (“one, two—’tis time to do it.”) one of the reasons people with ocd may count (and there are many reasons, this is not the be-all-end-all) is “attaching meaning to particular numbers where certain numbers will induce anxiety, while others will reduce anxiety. for example, if you assign special meaning to the number three, you might count your steps by threes, or lock and unlock your car three times before driving, or any variety of other action ruled by this magic number.” (<- quoted from nocd website)

i also know that repetition of words or phrases is another common compulsion. and these are lady macbeth's final lines:

to bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. come, come, come, come, give me your hand. what's done cannot be undone. — to bed, to bed, to bed.

4. her death

in your ocd hamlet post, you talked about how hamlet’s death is almost peaceful in his “silence”, and how horatio, despite knowing all his flaws and obsessions, believes wholeheartedly in his salvation. (that honestly means the world to me, by the way, so thank you.) the macbeths went through EVERYTHING together: the planning, the crime itself, the aftermath—it’s clear from their dialogue that at the beginning of their sufferings they saw each other go through sleeplessness, nightmares, and obsession. but over the course of the play, they completely fall apart. (i think the last time macbeth uses “we” to refer to the two of them is to say “we’ll to sleep” and “we are yet but young in deed”, which is the most ironic thing ever.) macbeth’s only response to lady macbeth’s death is “she should have died hereafter.” i honestly don’t know what that means in terms of the ocd reading, or in comparison with horatio's reaction to hamlet's death. i'd love to know what you think.

thanks for bearing with me!! i’m a bit less confident in this reading than i am for ocd hamlet, and it’s more likely i’ll get something wrong about ocd in this one, but sorry i just wanted to unleash this somewhere i hope that’s okay and genuinely please tell me if i say anything wrong or insensitive! i also typed this over 3 hours and went over the text as if this was a homework essay.....? and it is now almost 2am so i’m sorry if this isn’t coherent. i hope you’re having a wonderful day :)

hi same anon here i forgot to put this in but. i listened to verdi macbeth opera mad scene una macchia è qui tuttora the whole time i was writing that thing in case anyone would like to know...... i love it so so much my favourite video recording is by sylvia sass on youtube https://youtu.be/tP59Ox8MdQ4?feature=shared&t=319 AND there are full productions of the opera on youtube as well. thank you so much for reading!!!!

YES.... YES..... YESSSSSSSSSS I LOVE AN OCD LADY MACBETH... IT'S ABOUT THE GUILT IT'S ABOUT THE REPETITION DOES EVERYONE HEAR ME? TODAY WE ARE DOING GUILT AND REPETITION

i have had similar thoughts about the sort of inherent trickiness of it (oh, the lady who washes her hands a lot has ocd? whoa, totally original thought that has nothing to do with pop culture perception of ocd) (and also she did kill a man). but you really said it all with that ksdhfdksnfdsn. i will pitch in that i DO have handwashing compulsions and tbh. i personally think lady macbeth ocd reading is a net win even if it does trail a little close to stereotypes because if you dig even slightly deeper than "haha handwashing" it allows for an examination of ocd not just as an action but also as a manifestation of guilt and illness. which is SO macbeth. the body politic is sick the government is sick!!! again im taking the words right out of your mouth here this ask whips ass

shaking your hand on conceiving of ocd as something parasitical. really feels like there is some Thing up there feeding on my brain. (also on intrusive thought dreams. fucked upppppp like man leave me alone)

AND ON THAT NOTE i feel like even if she is asleep it can still be ocd. i say this with no medical training whatsoever and this isn't, like, me asserting that people actually do compulsions while asleep, but on a narrative level, the emotional processes happening to her character are petty clear even if she's sleepwalking, right. once again no medical training whatsoever

the jumping around of her thoughts honestly feels exactly like my mind alternating between intrusive thoughts and desperately trying to justify why they aren’t true. [...] the moodswings and the flip-flopping between “everything’s fine” and “i’m going to hell” are also SO intense and honestly it’s exactly what it feels like on my worst days.

YEAH. YEAH. YEAH. the ugly intrusive thought -> self-reassurance -> self-reassurance makes it worse -> intrusive thought (harder and worse) spiral. and literally this is EXACTLY what it feels like. me when i accidentally say something rude and then i'm evil for three days. except she killed a man

i sort of headcanon lady macbeth to have absolutely horrible skin splits on her hands (<- this part is complete projection): and so following this interpretation, i think of her handwashing sort of as a form of self-flagellation because rubbing her hands continually will make the skin tear and bleed. (gore tw?) that, then, fits in with the blood on her hands: in her semi-conscious state she thinks it’s duncan’s, when it’s really hers.

YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH. ON AN ANALYTICAL LEVEL AND A PERSONAL LEVEL. LITERALLY THE LEAPS I CAN DO IN MY BEAUTIFUL MIND TO BE LIKE WOW IM JUST LIKE LADY MACBETH (BLOOD ON MY HANDS). YOU N ME BROTHER

and re: her death and the macbeths splintering apart. that is honestly the most painful part of this play for me, as a lover of evil couples and also of their specific dynamic. the fact that they mesh so well at the beginning (i mean, they argue, there's friction, but they're clearly on the same page--they enter their first shared scene both thinking the same thing and a lot of their communication is in implication) and then they just. fragment. and i think with the OCD ladymac reading it's even worse, because the thing about OCD at least in my experience is that. at some point the people around you stop being able to understand what the fuck your problem is. even when they're trying really hard. because it doesn't make any sense! the compulsions don't make logical sense the self-flagellation doesn't make any sense none of it is SOLVING anything but it also does make sense, To You, on a level you cannot really explain to people that don't Get It*. and so like. the macbeths are already breaking apart because of their responses to the murder, and this is just one more thing coming between them. she is trapped in a cage in her brain that he cannot see.

*(i think not infrequently about the overlap between OCD and psychosis; i haven't experienced psychosis and obviously there are major differences, but i relate a lot to what psychotic people have said about, like, the ability to hold multiple contradictory truths at once. my compulsions will not actually stop disasters from happening, but they also will. you could maybe pull in something about macbeth's parallel loss of control + his hallucinations? but i'm not diagnosing macbeth with psychosis necessarily i'm just saying words).

anyway, anon, i am always extremely impressed by your dedication to writing out quotes and coming armed with evidence, and also your analysis fucking bangs. this is such a good ask i need to frame it on the wall your mind is huge. i hope you have a wonderful day as well :)

[taylortruther]

Do you think Joe was the first partner that Taylor had ever really considered a friend before he was a lover and consciously considered their friendship throughout the relationship alongside their romance?

I’ve been listening to a lot of Lover lately and I noticed that she refers to their friendship several times, which isn’t something she’s really sung much about before Joe. I think she’s typically someone who really likes that spark/instant chemistry/obvious romantic tension and it’s not like that was necessarily absent with Joe, but it does seem like she forced herself to hold back on jumping into the romance a lot more at first because of the state she was in at the time. I feel like because of this time and who they both are, they formed a kind of truly intimate friendship that she hadn’t really had with a bf before. Obviously idk her at all lol but she says things like “it’s nice to have a friend”/“I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” and (imo) she seems to have had a lot of respect for Joe’s character, intentions and integrity, which isn’t something she really ever got into about her past relationships, (she has often sung about having strong romantic feelings for someone but also knowing they weren’t the best/safest person).

The way she talks about little things like “save your dirtiest jokes for me” and “sit quietly by my side in the shade” and “have my back, yeah, every day” really paints a picture of a deeper foundation between two people who just liked each other and genuinely got on with each other beyond the sex and romance — they were happy cleaning up bottles together after the party was over (“I want your dreary Mondays, too”) and I guess this was just an excuse for me to talk about how devastating the peace/NYD mashup was to hear after all that — to become a stranger whose laugh she could recognise anywhere. 👍🏼 ok :)

Glad she seems happier now though !

i love how you started and ended this ask, because i was literally thinking, "you answered your own question" jfkasld. i do think it's really notable and sweet how she weaves their friendship and romance throughout, though, because it does indicate it was special and important to her. "he built a fire just to keep me warm"... he wanted nothing from her, except to know she was safe.

for me, those friendship parallels explain so much of why this relationship was precious to her:

no one wanted to play with me as a little kid, so i've been scheming like a criminal ever since to make them love me and make it seem effortless -> say my name and everything just stops, i don't want you like a best friend -> all of my enemies started as friends, help me hold onto you -> bridges burn, i never learn, at least i did one thing right -> it's nice to have a friend -> please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere