#year of the golden monkey

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Two females and a male golden snub-nosed monkey huddle together to keep warm in the extreme winter cold. Threatened mainly by forest loss and fragmentation, this endangered species is confined to central China. One of the shortlisted 25 images in the running for the Wildlife Photographer of the Year People’s Choice award at the Natural History Museum

Photograph: Minqiang Lu/2022 Wildlife Photographer of the Year

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Would y’all believe me if i said I actually designed an lmk oc with blue skin and blondish hair before Azure Lion showed up?

[fluffypotatey]

Imagine if you can see strings in memory scroll people. Imagine wukong and later macaque seeing how beautiful their string used to be in past shadowpeach

oooooooooooh i like your brain, anon 👀 such a fun little detail to add to the au’s world ✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️ thanks :)

[cxnsolatio]

TAG DROP!!

CHARACTER & GROUP TAGS

✚ | ❝ you're standing in the wings ; there you wait for the curtain to fall ❞ { c / donquixote doflamingo }

✚ | ❝ silent screams laughing here ; dying to tell you the truth ❞ { c / donquixote rosinante }

✚ | ❝ not alone with a dream / just a want to be free ; with a need to belong / i am the clansman ❞ { c / monkey d. luffy }

✚ | ❝ teach me the art of war ; for i shall bring more than you bargained for ❞ { c / roronoa zoro }

✚ | ❝ but brutus wasn't kind / wasn't strawberries that were red ; he wasn't cutting bread ❞ { c / eustass kid }

✚ | ❝  just for a second a glimpse of my father I see ; and in a movement he beckons to me ❞ { c / usopp }

✚ | ❝ i see the ghosts of navigators but they are lost / as they sail into the sunset they'll count the cost ❞ { c / brook }

✚ | ❝ but a ghost lives in my veins ; silent the terror that reigned marbled in stone ❞ { c / sanji }

✚ | ❝ nowhere left to run ; navigator's son / chasing rainbows all my days ❞ { c / bepo }

✚ | ❝ face up ; make your stand / and realise you're living in the golden years ❞ { c / shachi }

✚ | ❝ say goodbye to gravity and say goodbye to death / hello to eternity and live for every breath ❞ { c / penguin }

✚ | ❝ can i tempt you? come with me / be devil may care ; fulfill your dream ❞ { c / ikkaku }

✚ | ❝ unknowingly blessed and as his life unfolds / slowly unveiling the power he holds ❞ { c / tony tony chopper }

✚ | ❝ you watch the world exploding every single night ; dancing in the sun / a newborn in the light ❞ { c / nico robin }

✚ | ❝ they dared to go, where no one would try / they chose to fly where eagles dare ❞ { g / straw hat pirates }

✚ | ❝ when it comes to the time are we partners in crime? when it comes to the time ; we'll be ready to die ❞ { g / heart pirates }

OTHER TAGS

✚ | ❝ and the ship it sinks like lead into the sea / and the hermit shrives the mariner of his sins ❞ { v / contemporary }

✚ | ❝ we fly a flag in some foreign earth ; we sailed away like our fathers before ❞ { v / ??? }

✚ | ❝ can i play with madness? the prophet stared at his crystal ball ❞ { crack }

[coolguycy]

friends dad made fun of me for giving 20 dollars to a street performer. like damn bro its not your money chill

[corroded-hellfire]

I've got this image in my head of very pregnant!AYW reader sitting outside with her feet in a kiddie pool, letting the older boys splash around and keep her cool on a hot day. Maybe a cooler full of frozen treats at her side.

I have had this one in my ask box forever because I wanted to write something I’d be happy with and I think I’m there lol. I hope it makes you happy as well 😘

Words: 1.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Of course. The August that you’re seven months pregnant is the hottest summer Hawkins has had in over fifty years. Of course.

Eddie could see how the heat was getting to you. Sweat would dot your forehead just moments after you’d step outside. Your ankles had swollen to almost double the size. It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that you were a little more irritable than usual as well. But your husband wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort you. Usually, his way of comforting you included wrapping you up in his arms but the one time he’d attempted to do that you’d given him a death glare that blazed hotter than the weather. He’d learned his lesson after that: no touching when the temperature is above a hundred degrees. 

One early Saturday afternoon, you and Luke are eating lunch while Eddie and Ryan run a few errands. Luke had wanted to go too, but ever since you started your third trimester, Eddie didn’t like the idea of leaving you by yourself. 

It’s quiet between you and your ten-year-old son when the back door bangs open, making you jump and swivel around in your seat–which was no easy task. Perspiration runs down Eddie’s forehead, Ryan’s own golden brown hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture. Patches of Ryan’s gray shirt are black and clinging to his skin from the sweat. If Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt weren’t so dark, you know you’d see the same thing on him. Despite how hot and sweaty they both look, they both have smiles on their faces and Eddie looks quite proud of himself.

“I f’ought oo were goin’ to da store,” you say around a mouth full of pasta salad.

“We did,” Eddie said, breaths labored.

“And we set up a surprise for you!” Ryan adds, his beaming grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“And me?” Luke asks optimistically, craning his neck to look over at his father and brother.

“Actually, kind of,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Come on.” Your husband waves the both of you over towards the back door before remembering he should help you up out of the chair–even though you’re capable of doing it yourself. 

The boys both run ahead of you as Eddie stays back with your waddling pace. It feels like no sooner than your bare foot hits the grass of the yard than sweat begins to break out along your hairline. You swear you’ll never complain about the winter being too cold again. 

“It’s small,” you hear Luke say. 

Your eyes catch on the short inflatable kiddie pool set up in the middle of the backyard, two white and blue striped lawn chairs set up beside it, and a large red cooler between them. The garden hose is hanging inside the pool, the green tube writhing like a snake as the water whooshes in to fill the empty space. 

“Cause it’s a kiddie pool, duh,” Ryan replies to his brother. 

“I thought,” Eddie starts, reaching up to rub your shoulders before catching himself, not wanting to make your discomfort worse, “you could sit out here with your feet in the nice cold water. Might help your ankles, too. And you know these two monkeys are always splashing so you’re bound to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Hey,” Luke protests, but Ryan nudges him with his elbow because they both know that their father is right. 

“And…” Eddie takes your hand and gently leads you closer to the chairs, where he opens the cooler that’s nestled between them. Inside there are different flavors of ice pops, ice cream bars, and cold drinks, all enveloped in gallons of ice that have a pleasant chill wafting off them. 

Words become trapped in your throat. Your wonderful husband did all of this for you just because he knows how the heat has been making you feel lately. And after you’ve been a pain in the ass. This would’ve made you emotional even if the hormones didn’t beat you to the punch. 

“Eddie,” you say, all other speech cut off as your bottom lip begins to wobble.

“Uh oh,” Luke whispers.

“No, could be a good thing,” Ryan mumbles back quietly. He was slightly better at understanding the emotional aspect of hormones than his little brother. 

“This is so sweet,” you say, turning to cup your husband’s face in your hands. 

“You’ve been hard at work cooking that bun in the oven,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Oven needs some cooling down though, she’s getting overheated.”

“Ahem,” you hear from behind you. Ryan moves into your peripheral vision, and you turn your head to look at him, sliding your hands down to Eddie’s shoulders as you do. The eldest brother is clearly holding something behind his back, and you scrunch up your brow as you look at him.

“Whatcha got?” you ask.

Eddie huffs out a small chuckle and presses a kiss to your temple before saying, “Ryan found something at the store he says is on every ad for the beach.”

“You bought me sand? The ocean?” you tease the boy.

Ryan rolls his eyes, another reminder that he’s a preteen now. 

“No,” he says. From behind him, Ryan brandishes a floppy hat, and he is certainly right—a woman is wearing one of those in every ad for the beach.

“Ryan, I love it!” you exclaim with a giggle. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you waddle over the few steps to the boy. He holds the straw hat out to you, a bright grin on his face at your happiness. 

“You know,” you say as you accept the hat from him, “I’d bend down so you could put it on my head but then I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.”

“Like crowning a princess!” Luke adds as Ryan laughs.

“Well,” your husband says, coming up behind you, “it’s a good thing I’m taller than Ryan then, huh? Or we could’ve just made Luke help you back up.”

Eddie plucks the hat from your grasp, the straw scratching lightly against your fingertips as he pulls it away. He steps in front of you, and you keep your head level, only raising your eyes to watch Eddie’s pale, toned arms lift to place the floppy hat on top of your head gently. 

“Your Highness,” Eddie says, bowing his head. Your giggle makes Eddie grin as he gestures towards the lawn chairs. “Your throne awaits.”

Twenty minutes later it’s as if the summer heat were merely an annoying insect that you’re only somewhat aware of. Even though the chill water of the miniature pool only goes up to midcalf, sloshes of water have hit you all the way up to your neck. The cool beads of moisture feel like heaven as they meander down your red tank top, though. The denim shorts you’re wearing will weigh a ton later since the boys’ splashing has gotten them so wet, but Eddie’s such a pro at taking your clothes off that he could use a little challenge this time. 

Luke and Ryan manage to find games to play in the small pool—after Luke’s failed attempt at Marco Polo, anyway. Toy boats glide through the water, a few of them on the grass from flying overboard. The two boys shout but they’re outside and having fun, and it’s nice to hear. 

The sound of the back door slamming shut reaches you as you tilt your head back, protected from the sun by Ryan’s thoughtful gift and the sunglasses you grabbed when you got changed. Eyes closed, you listen to footsteps in the grass as Eddie walks your way from the house. They come to a stop and you sense as he crouches down next to you. Lazily, you loll your head to the side and crack your eyes open. 

“How’re my girls?” Eddie asks, placing his right hand over the soaked red shirt covering your baby bump.

“Mmm, good,” you hum. “She’s very happy you bought strawberry shortcake bars.”

“I’m glad she liked them,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “What about you, princess? How do you feel?”

You pretend to consider his question for a moment before speaking.

“Kiss me?” 

You pucker your lips and there’s no hesitation as your husband leans in and gently presses his own against yours.

“Perfect. Now I’m perfect.”

[lovelyela]

she looks like fun || theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis: new years eve party, based on she looks like fun by arctic monkey. part 2 to she's thunderstorms :)

ela’s note: ignore the fact that it takes place on new years eve and we are half way into january LMAOOO. i wanted to use this song cause it was fitting and my friend suggested it :c

warnings: use of y/n, mentions of smoking, oblivious friends to lovers, cursing, mentions of drinking/alcohol, kissing, confessing, kinda cringe? lazy ending (again), mentions of parties, bad attempt at writing british people.

word count: 1.5k

・❥・

7 months, 30 weeks, 212 days, and a couple hours and a few seconds was how long ago you and theo met.

"aye, mate! ready for the party?" mattheo walked out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips while steam flowed out of the shower.

you were throwing a new years eve party for the students at hogwarts who didn't go back home. mattheo and theo were getting ready.

theo's friends had long known about his new liking towards you, if you could call it that.

after the party in may, the two of you became close friends, finding time to study together, hang out, do projects in classes, and more. because of your guys' new memories and stories, he found himself falling for you even more day after day.

"course i am." theo said, scrolling mindlessly on instagram. your 2023 recap post came up on his feed. first, it was a picture of a sunrise, then one of a cheeseburger you had in italy or some other romantic-looking place. swiping more, he saw pictures of you and your friends, your achievements of that year, you with animals, and finally you snowboarding.

he even made the cut with a secretly taken picture of him staring at a thunderstorm with a blunt in his hand from the night you two met.

mattheo quickly got dressed and polished himself up before the two boys walked to the gryffindor common room.

the party hadn't started yet, but theo and a few other slytherin boys were helping you set up final details.

"hey guys!" you greeted mattheo and theo.

enzo was already helping, and draco and blaise went home to their families so it was just the three for now.

theo felt weak in the knees when he saw you. you were all glammed up for the new year, with your hair done nice and a silky emerald green dress to match the color of 2024.

you wore shoes that were much more elegant than the ones you usually wear, but they were still comfortable to dance and be in.

"you look stunning." theo said without much thought, simply just admiring you.

"thank you." you blushed, face heating up under his gaze. what theo didn't know was how you felt the same.

the times he glanced at you from across the room, the times he laughed at all your bad and funny jokes, the times he did little things for you like holding the door open, all those times did not go unnoticed.

he loved you, and the feeling was mutual.

"what can we help with?" mattheo smiled after a few beats of you and theo smiling each other.

"you can help lorenzo, i asked him to put out the snacks and drinks." you pointed to the other boy, who was putting his heart and soul into a cracker and cheese charcuterie board. mattheo went to him, and began pouring different chips into different bowls.

"and you," you focused your attention back to theo, "you can help me put up streamers."

theo smiled and followed you to the staircase, where golden streamers were put up half-way.

"i'll give you 20 galleons if y/l/n and nott get together tonight," enzo grinned at mattheo.

"i doubt it, they're both too shy to actually tell each other about their feelings." mattheo shook his head. "you know i'm always up for a bet though."

everyone saw it. the professors, your friends, even the paintings and ghosts of hogwarts. they all saw the way you and theo looked at each other, the way you two are always together. they've heard both of you talking about one another like you were desperately in love.

they also knew how oblivious the two of you were. how one of you could yell "i love you," in the other's face and brush it off like nothing.

the 4 of you finished the setup at 8:32, the perfect time as the party started at 9. people already started piling in and chatting with each other.

at 11 pm, you poured yourself a tropical drink, and you got onto the dance floor quickly with your friends and a smile on your face.

30 minutes later, theo was alone, watching you subtly from afar. mattheo was finding a girl to kiss for the new year, and enzo was with his girlfriend he met at the party in may, which actually turned out to be one of your best friends. the italian was debating whether or not to go for a smoke break again.

he decided why not, and went to a hallway empty enough. he cracked open the window and sat on the floor.

he pulled out his only blunt and lighter, but before he could even spark the steel box, your voice interrupted yet again.

"you have to stop running from my parties to smoke some weed," you smiled and set your drink on the windowsill before taking a seat in from of theo.

"and you have to stop showing up to my smoke breaks unexpectedly." he scoffed lightheartedly before putting the lighter and blunt next to your drink.

"but you love it when i do that." you frowned jokingly. "do you have another one?"

"no," he sighed, "i should stop smoking so much this new year." he said.

"maybe." you shrugged. "are you having fun?" you questioned, tracing shapes on your knee.

"i always have fun at your parties," he said, "you're lots of fun."

"i'm flattered." you smiled, "did mattheo and enzo ditch you?" you questioned. you saw enzo and mattheo inside, so you could only jump to conclusions.

"not necessarily ditched." he said, "riddle is flirting around and berkshire is with his girlfriend."

"they're cute!" you said, "they're almost at 6 months, right?"

"i think so," theo shrugged. "they're really a good match."

"i wish i had a match like that." you said, "they're so great together, they have each other's humor, they're both loyal and secure, they let each other live their own lives and be independent, they're fun to be around, just like the perfect couple."

theo bit his tongue. he couldn't tell you, he couldn't have you knowing how he felt.

you couldn't know about how you made his day. you couldn't know how your smile or gaze alone made his heart flutter. you couldn't know about how he loved your guys' cloudy day hang outs. you couldn't know how he thought about you every waking second. hell, even when he slept, he dreamt of you. you couldn't know about how he loved sharing every whimsical thought that entered his mind with you. you couldn't know about how much fun he had with you, talking shit about people who did you two dirty and being dickheads. you couldn't know.

"i think we'd be a perfect couple."

shit.

"what?" you were taken aback in the best way possible.

"i meant-" he tried explaining, but just like a cheesy romcom, your best friend, enzo's girlfriend ran outside for you.

"it's agora hills!" she said, taking your hand and pulling you into the room.

theo was speechless, it happened so quick, and your reaction was not promising whatsoever.

he almost started panicking, but he had to clear the air. the secret was out, and even though it might end the friendship, you had to know.

he entered the common room, searching for you in the crowded room. he saw mattheo with some slytherin girl, and enzo was talking to some guys in ravenclaw.

he ignored them and kept looking for you.

the same way he's looked for you his whole life.

agora hills stopped and a minute timer came on, people started cheering and it was evident. 1 minute until the new year.

he finally found you after you emerged from the crowd, you were so happy he was tall enough for you to easily scout him out.

"y/n, let me explain." theo pleaded.

"no need, theo." you smiled.

"30 seconds!" someone said in the crowd.

"i've liked you for so long. since you approached me in may, i was interested in you. i've been falling for you everyday since then. these past 7 months were so fun, and i know it'll fuck our friendship up, but i can't miss this opportunity." he yapped, rushing.

20 seconds.

you smiled, your heart becoming warm after he confessed after nearly half a year of waiting. "theo, i like you too." you said.

"10!"

theo blinked at you, not processing the information.

"9!"

"can i kiss you?" you asked.

"8!"

"what?" he asked back, caught so off guard since he was fully ready to be rejected.

"7!"

"can i kiss you, idiot!?" you smiled again, knowing he thought he was dreaming.

"6!"

the question you asked finally registered in his brain.

"5!"

"..are you sure?" he questioned.

"4!"

"yes, im sure, theo!" your grin grew wider.

"3!"

he smiled from ear to ear, heart fluttering when he realized this was real. you felt the same way.

"2!"

you both leaned in, eager to make you two official.

"1! happy new year!"

and you two kissed. sparks flew and it could be compared to magic.

the two of you pulled away after a few moments, and smiled.

"woah."

・❥・

reblogs, likes, and replies are ALWAYS appreciated <3

dni if you support pro-life, racism, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, sexism or anything along those lines!

[neonovember]

hiiii

could you write carmy x reader where she’s a high school friend and carmy always had a crush on her (but he thought she had a crush on mikey) ???? like maybe richie brings her up, and that she’s still in town and SINGLE and carmy gets red like a tomato and ??? richie makes her visit the beef and candy almost has a heart attack?? idk give me some in love carmen !!

pretty pleaseee and thank u

so I got this request and I immediately thought of swim by chase atlantic, and specifically the line that goes;

“I’ve been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in” 

And holy shit if that isn’t Carmen in his denial-in-love with a long time friend era, I don't know what is. Carmen tries too hard to forget you, but you've marked permanently, you've ruined him for anyone else so can you blame him for waiting for you all this time?

Seriously though this request was so good! I got a bit carried away and turned into a 2 part series that may or may not have drabbles added to the universe…I really hope this isn't just a load of word vomit you don't want to read lmao. I just love their dynamic so much, and also FRIDAY DINNERS AT THE BEEF IS CANON OKAY.

Golden Boy

part one of 2

warnings: miscommunication (i know i'm sorry), friends to lovers, carmen and the reader have horrible communication skills and don't know how to call, angst, anxiety

a/n: part two will be up hopefully tomorrow so look out! it may or may not include a smut scene 😈

p.s, listen to swim whilst reading this you'll thank me later

You sat hunched in the tight enclosure of the classroom desk chairs, the once loud conversations fluttering across the huddled groups of classmates and friends that stood against tables and chairs now coming to a standstill.

The air of anxious trepidation falls across the atmosphere of the damp classroom, the windows that had been opened to let the air in felt thin as you and the rest of the students you had known for half a decade waited for that familiar ring of the bell.

The bell that would solidify your last day in this classroom, in these run down halls, in the school you had first stumbled into anxious and oblivious at thirteen. 

Your heart ached at the nostalgia of it, and you can't bear to cast your gaze to your friends who had begun to sniffle, like they were holding back tears, the grandfather clock your geography teacher insisted on keeping ticked on as it always did, and whilst you had spent years burning holes through the glass, willing for it to go faster, your one dying wish is for the seconds to tick by in minutes. 

You weren’t ready, it ran straight through you, all this time leading up, from when you had first learnt your desire to pursue architecture till the moment you finished that last sentence on your final exams, you felt you would be filled with joy at the sound of your true departure into adulthood and college.

And yet, you felt like a kid again, learning how to ride a bicycle without the training wheels, trying to reach the fifth monkey bar, falling headfirst into the dirt ground of the field when you had thought you were more flexible then you truly were. 

You didn’t want to leave, you didn't want to leave this place, this place of memories and friends and people you knew and loved. And it was as if God was listening, cause the resounding echo of the school bell rang through the halls and it was as if he said ‘fuck you anyway’.

You gather the haphazard books and papers laying across your desk, you had purposefully delayed packing in order to waste as much time in this memory as possible, before adulthood would take it away and make it something of the past. You hear your friends calling your name, and you tell them to go ahead as you make your way to your teachers desk.

“Hey Mr Jefferson” You say to your teacher has begun to bid goodbye to the leaving students

Your teacher looks up at you with a tight smile, sadness washes over the wrinkles and creases of her features, her auburn hair falling in short waves at her shoulder and her olive lipstick wearing down. You have to swallow to stop the tears from dropping. Your Geography teacher, whilst not teaching Art, had been the catapult to realizing your fascination with Architecture and design. She had even helped tell your parents, who had been set on the idea of you going into Law or Medicine or anything other than creative arts. 

“You’ll do amazing, I believe it because I see how hard you try. Don’t look back at this place, leave with the door wide open and come back only when you want to design me a house” Your Teacher replies with a grin, and before you can reply shes shuffling through her drawers, before pulling out a sketchbook that has been aged and stained with use over the years.

“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the book in your hand, it was good quality, despite being old, it felt like an heirloom.

“It’s one of my sketchbooks I had during college, maybe some of my late night sketches fuelled by coffee and donuts might inspire you”

“I couldn't possible-”

“Yes you could, hell whatever you create will probably be 10 x greater than whatever is in there” Your teacher cuts you off with a chuckle, and you hug the notebook tight against your chest before hugging her goodbye.

You step into the familiar walls of your high school hallways, crowds of seniors running to find their friends and hug them for possibly the last time, test papers and report cards left trampled on the ground, it's chaos, but you love it and the sight almost pulls tears down your waterline.

You walk towards your locker, before you recognize the familiar wisps of blond curls catch your eyesight. Carmen.  You considered him one of your closest friends, bonding together over a love of game** and your equal hatred of your Period 4 Calculus teacher.

Carmen didn't have much when I came to be friends, and after he met you, it didn't really get to him anymore, he had you now, and you were more than enough. Over the years you had gotten close to every part of Carmen's life, Mickey, Richie, Sugar, they were all people you regarded as family.

But there was something unsaid between the both of you, it was like there was something beyond friendship, but the embers had just gathered and had left unignited.

He’s gathering his things from his locker, shoving them into a bag in that messy way he is, and he slams the locker with a jolt.

You're standing stationary in the middle of the hallway, classmates and other seniors running by you in confusion, your friends calling your name annoyed, but it's all muffled, it all doesn't matter because it's Carm and god your heart aches so bad. 

You see Carmen and he sees you, stopping a few meters away from you, and a moment of recognition washes over him as he gazes with those cerulean blues. There's grief in the way you look at each other, tears streaming down your cheek as you try to smile at him, realising this might be the last time you see him, forever, off to an Art school in New York, leaving him behind. You feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest and he shakes his head, his eyebrows scrunching up as he steps closer so that he’s only a whisper from you.

He brings his hand up, brushing a strand and tucking in behind your ear, eyes strained as he wipes your tears away painfully. He moves closer, so that his breath is against your neck and whispers

“Thought you told me you'd punch me in the stomach if I cried on the last day” Carmen whispers into your eyes with a grin that breaks through the tears that cause his eyes to swirl in colour's of waves.

His words make you laugh and cry at the same time, and you shake your head as you reach for his arm, and playfully hit your stomach with it. Carmen rests it against your waist, looking up to you in a pained expression, his eyes shift to the notebook grasped tight in your hands

“New sketchbook? That..doesn't look new” Carmen says, turning his head to examine the old book more closely.

“One of Mrs Jefferson’s, her sketches are..their fucking amazing” You sigh, running your hand across the folded spine of the sketch book.

“Thought teachers weren't meant to have favourites” Carmen shoots out, a playful grin on his lips

“Hmm, well they aren't supposed to tell you exactly” You banter with a giggle, you flick through the pages of the book, half drawn sketches in grey lead and ballpoint, Carmen tracing his fingers gently across the ingrained lines and shades.

“God you're something, you know that?” Carmen says, all of a sudden, and when you look up you realise he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“Bear..” You breathe out.

“I don't know how I'm going to-, I, it's all so much” You exhale, waving your arms around this place that has held so many memories, so much of your past kept in the creaks and cracks of plastered walls and lockers

“You're the only person in this goddamn place that's going to make something out of themselves, I bet my entire life on it Bug. You're going to do amazing, in that big city, you’re going to show em’' Carmen replies, grasping you against his touch tight. You look up at him, trying to memorise every dip and curve of his features, the curl of his hair that shone honey in the sun, those eyes that were always searching, and the small cut on his forehead where he fell off his skateboard that one summer evening.

“Don’t say goodbye”

“Okay” Your tongue feels like deadweight in your mouth. what if i never see you again?

“You say goodbye and it's the end. Just..don’t” I can't breathe carmy.

You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, pressing your nose into his shirt to smell the scent of patchouli and cigarettes he always carried, you want to tell him to come with you, to pack an overnight bag and run with you forever, but the words don’t taste right when you try to speak and you see yourself letting him go, and turning away with a shaky step.

Turn back Carmen whispers, so softly that only the gods above and the wind around him can hear it

You feel an urge to turn back, it speaks to you from within, and before you can stop yourself, your neck cranes, turning your body to get one last look at your golden boy before time would take him forever. 

Time would age him into a memory forever.

Carmen feels this tension leave his shoulders at the same time his heart shatters, you will find each other again, even if it was in another universe, where you're sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, going over groceries together with the afternoon light casting its glow across you. He will find you, he will find you and he won’t let go this time. 

*

“Honestly Ma, it’s fine, I’ll get the movers to come in a little early”. You groan into the phone pressed to your ear, papers and unresolved bills are left scattered across your dining room table and you have this itch that's begun to turn chronic somewhere you can’t reach.

You take a moment to look around your apartment, now barren of furniture, and filled instead with boxes of badly organised stuff you've accumulated over the years. This place, albeit small, had been your home ever since you stepped out of the yellow cabbed taxi on your first day in New York, and whilst it wasn't pretty, you felt a pang of guilt leaving it all behind. These walls had seen you through it all, the late night study cram’s, the breakdowns, the accomplishments, the one night stands. You'd miss her, but maybe you were just a nostalgic person.

You’ve made a life in New York, but you felt misplaced, like pieces of yourselves were scattered across the states. Chicago kept a part of you, and it was only when you had gotten the chance to move back home, did it click. You missed your city. And you had cut your lease and emptied out the last of your savings without a second thought.

Now all that was left was tying up loose ends and making the trip down. It was funny, in a way. You had run to New York to pursue architecture, and it brought you back to the very same place you had left, there was a certain trepidation when you thought of Chicago, it held so much of your past, in its city streets and evergreen trees, and you don’t know if you were quite ready to face those memories again.

*

It still smelled the same. You itch your nose, sniffling against the blooming scent of cocoa and caramel from the Chicago roads, all this time, and all that you can tell is how it still smelt like maple leaves and chocolate. It was comforting, and it felt like the warm embrace of a childhood friend that had stayed sitting on the corner of your suburban street corner all this time.

“Thank you Mae, really, I got the call last minute in New York to come back here and if it weren't for you, I’d be moving back into my old bedroom at my parents” You reply, gratitude filling every word. It was true, your friend had swooped in the second you called, fixing you up with a lease and an apartment with her realtor links. She came in a clutch, and she had made you promise to never leave her again in exchange.

“Oh shush doll, of course. This is probably payment for all the times I’ve crashed at yours anyway” Mae winks, the bracelets on her wrist clinking against each other. She didn't look like a typical realtor, more like a bohemian solo-traveller with her filly skirts and auburn red hair.

“I’m not going to let a degree transform my entire wardrobe, my clothes are antiques, their heirlooms, they tell a story” 

She had told you once, one late night on the rooftop of your New York apartment, sipping cheap wine and passing a blunt between you both. You wish you had known yourself as much as she did then.

She had visited you a couple times in New York, coming up for work and spending the time at yours instead of spending thousands on an Airbnb, but it had been a while since you've seen her, and all of a sudden you remember how much you missed her laugh.

“I’ve got some time to spend before it’s all hand on deck” You reply, placing the last of your boxes onto the empty wooden floor of the living room.

“Oh yeah? Can’t believe you’re gonna design a whole building on Michigan Av’, your a fucking inspiration Bug” Mae sighs in adoration, and you giggle, the feeling of embarrassment filling you at the mention of your reason back home.

You never got used to the praise and adoration you received over the years, despite your many accolades and awards, you still felt like that hopelessly broke architect student giving up lunch to pay rent. You didn’t remember when things started to change. When did things start to change?

“You know, if you’ve got time, you should check out the Farmers Market near River North” Mae replies, whilst flicking through her phone

“The one on Division Street?” You reply, you had a faint memory of the long strip of stalls filled with fresh produce, food and the rest of the little trinkets that were sold since you were born on the pleated table cloth of sheltered booths.

“That’s the one, this guy named Samson? Makes the best fucking bearclaw in the entire United States. Tell him you're a friend of mine and he'll hook you up…you know since you can't afford it” Mae replies playfully, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you hook up with him or something?” You poke back, Mae had the tendency to know everyone in Chicago, from the mailman to the old woman you’d see feeding the bids on a park bench.

“Yeah, actually I did. Not like you could relate, how long has it been, hm?” Mae replies, stepping forward to whisper down at your pants.

“I’m so sorry she hasn't been taking care of you. What are you, mummify her?” Mae looks up from her crouched position with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh, you know I've been too busy to think about that. She’s gonna have to be patient” You reply, you don’t want to think about how long it has actually been, since you've had any type of release. But the tension has begun to weigh on your shoulders as time went on and you fear it might become something you can’t ignore.

You begin to move some boxes into your bedroom, thanks to your planning your large furniture such as your bed and coach, had been moved into the apartment before the rest of the things had got here, so at least you wouldn't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Changing into a pair of dark jeans and a short sleeve top, you loop an embroidered handbag onto your shoulder.

“So, you coming?” You call to Mae, who’s begun to fill your fridge with the groceries she's swung by with.

“Sure would Bug, but got a call to come in. I’ll come by again later this evening though?” Mae replies, with a grunt as she lifts the 2 litre bottle of milk onto one of the drive shelves.

“Yes please, I’m dying for a glass of wine”

“And a blunt” Mae replies, snickering at the way you roll your eyes at her.

Mae offers to drop you off, but you wave her off, telling her you wanted to see a little more of your hometown. You needed some fresh air that wasn't the coffee and smoke scent of the New York streets.

The walk to the Farmers market was a short one, but you felt like you were wading through a current. By the way the memories of your past began to resurface as you passed the streets and shops. Every corner holds a part of you, and you have to rush by your old school to stop the pang of pain that surprises you. You weren't an emotional person, but god it was almost as if you were hanging by a thread the second you touched down on Chicago. 

What was causing this? You felt like you were holding your breath as you stepped through the fallen autumn leaves marking the sidewalk, the gentle sun on your back, what were you waiting for?

You tear yourself from your thoughts momentarily when you catch the looming buildings that had been built on ions ago, the infrastructure of Chicago still enamoured you, in a way that couldn't be beaten by even New York’s impossible skyscrapers.

There was a charm to it, each of the buildings felt like you were stepping into a different decade, they had been the stepping stones to a lot of the infrastructure and architecture that spread into other cities. You felt like you were at the start of it all every time your eyes trailed across the facade and arcades of the century old stone buildings.

Without realising, you had finally made it to the Farmers Market, the constant stream of people coming in and out with boxes of produce or hauling wooden antiques with very audible grunts. You can’t stop the smile stretching your face as you step through the embroidered banner at the front of the street.

Despite the many different stalls and food around you, you don't feel overstimulated. This was your home, you felt like you belonged, like a name scratched into wet cement, remaining ingrained for years no matter the seasons that came. 

You go over the haphazard list of things you wanted to look for in your mind, but you're caught off guard by a stall that seemed to be huddled by patrons. You step towards it, and as people move aside you see the blooming flowers and carefully wrapped banquets in woven wooden baskets to the side of the stall. A short woman with light brown curls is standing at the front, taking down orders with a grin, whilst a rather tall man behind her makes quick work to wrap delicate orders into soft brown parchment paper tied with string. 

And all of a sudden the need to buy pink tulips becomes your first priority. The woman at the front looks familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on where you've seen her, but as you walk up to the front her face morphs into familiar as she looks up at you in surprise.

“As I live and breathe” She says your name with a screech and it's her voice that pulls her name to your mouth. Adeline, a close friend from senior year who’d taught you how to crochet and pick a lock.

“Bug? How've you been? What brings you back to town?” Ade replies after telling the man behind her your order without you even saying a thing. 

“Tulips, pink ones right?” Ade grins, and you have to let out a chuckle at how you haven't changed even a little.

“Got invited to join in designing a new building on Michigan Avenue, so I'll be back for a while-”

“Michigan Avenue? Holy shit Bug! You’re making moves, knew you always were special” Adeline replies with a gushing smile and you rush to reply with the same adoration

“Are you kidding, look at this line” You motion to the increasing line of people forming at Adeline's stall.

“People love their flowers” Adeline replies with a shrug before you shake your head vehemently

“No, they love your flowers, and for good reason, look at these” You gush, pressing your face into the bundle of tulips that had been handed to you.

“They only look that good because Henry's so good at wrapping them” Adeline replies with a laugh, her eyes flicking to the brown haired man dressed in corduroy behind her. A look passes between them that tells you there was more than love between them.

“Henry huh?” You reply with a grin, and the man is quick to introduce himself, and you don’t ignore the cold press of an encrusted band on his ring finger as he shakes your hand with a soft smile.

And it's as if Adeline reads your mind and she slips her left hand in yours, looking up at you with a teary grin.

“Yes, yes I know, I should've called, and I’m so sorry-”

You press yourself against her, leaning over the stall to wrap your arms around her. You whisper words of congratulation, shutting down any words that hinted at you being mad at her.

It wasn't her fault, it should be you she's mad at, you hadn’t really made that much of an effort to keep in contact with your friends back at home, and the reality of it weighed on you heavy now, you had missed so many milestones of your loved ones, all to chase your own dreams in New York.

You felt like you were constantly playing catch up, and you couldn't lie when a strange feeling crept up at the thought of your friends moving on with life. You were so incredibly happy for Adeline, and you were even more elated when she had told you of the Wedding in April that you had to come to. 

But that didn't stop that same strange feeling of being behind everyone else, you had spent so long climbing the ladder to wear what you wear now, relationships and love weren't even a thought, you filled your nights with studying and drawing and the occasional fling, but nothing more. And now doubts had begun to creep in, had you missed out? 

Watching everyone around you get married and have kids whilst you were still drawing buildings in that same sketchbook your teacher had given you 8 years ago. You’re not looking as you walk past the many stalls of the Farmers market, and it is your thoughts again that causes you to accidentally stumble into the hard muscle of a man back. You feel yourself falling, before arm's reach out, grabbing you quickly to stop you from ending flat on your face. 

You breath out a sigh of relief, shaking a head at your clumsiness

“God, ‘m so sorry, I’ve just been in my head, I wasn’t looking where i was going-”

“Holy fuck” Your quick to spit an apologetic thanks, you haven't even looked up to see who you've dubbed into, and when the sound of surprise meets your ease you look up, only to be remain stone faced with your mouth left open.

“Richie?” You say, the shock of it is still in the air. You hadn't expected to see him in Chicago, or maybe you did and it was sooner than you thought.

“When did you get back? Holy shit, thought we wouldn't see you again” Richie replies with a smile

“Yeah uh, came down for some work for a little while. How, uh How are things” You reply with a squeak, you can’t bear to say what you're thinking and Richie nods, a look of acknowledgement in his face. Mickey’s death had shaken you, it had changed you in its own way, and you still grief him, it still hurts when Richie's face kinda falls and melts at the reminder of his best friend's death.

“After, uh, after Mickey, he had left the restaurant, you know, the Beef?” You nod in agreement, the hazy memory of the sandwich shop on the corner of Chicago's, busiest streets, you stomach rumbles at the thought of one of those sandwiches you'd down in less than a minute during your high school years.

“Yeah well, get this, he left it to Carmen. And honestly, I was hesitant at first, real hesitant, I love him, but god, he's a self centred ass coming in like he knew everything, spewing the bullshit CDC shit he learnt up in the big apple? He changed things, and you know how I feel about change, but he made it better, I can;t lie, and you better not tell him this, but the Beef actually..” Richie’s familiar rambles are muffled to your ears, the only thing you can hear is Carmen.

Everything zones out as you scrunch your eyebrows, wincing almost, at the pain and it shocks you, it shocks you how the very name of him still brings back those memories. You still hurt the same way you did the day you left him.

You must have looked out of it, as Richie shakes your shoulder, anchoring you back to the present, and you have to swallow back the bite of pain that bleeds through your chest.

“Did you hear what I said? The Beef’s holding a little family dinner tomorrow, shutting down the shop early, inviting only friends and family, it’ll be like a little reunion for you! You have to come” Richie replies, and you nod trying to seem present.

Carmen took over the Beef? He was in New York? What?

Your mind is scattered with the uproar of questions you have, the thought of Carmen, the memory of him is like a fresh wound. It un tethered and opens up a thread of thoughts and emotions you had thought you bottled up and threw deep into the ocean.

“You, you still talk to him right? Ya’ll were pretty close growing up, like fucking thieves attached to the hip if i can remember” Richie chuckles, fondly remembering the two of you.

You cough back, smiling up at him as you trying to reply coherently

“Yeah, uh sometimes you know” You lie

No. You haven't spoken to him since you left, and it feels like your tongue falls dead when you try to say his name again. You hadn't called and he hadn't picked up. Carmen told you not to say goodbye, but the truth was it had been the end of you even before you had both realised. 

You had spent years pretending like Carmen not calling you, not making an effort to see you after everything didn’t burn, but the reality of it had marked you in a way that felt eternal.

“So you're coming, yeah? You and Carmen can finally catch up” Richie replies with a smile, and look of something passes through his eyes before it leaves, and you have to smile back with a nod, like you and Carmen were still close, like you don't feel that he might turn you away or scream at you the second he saw you, like you weren't both irrevocably in love with each other.

Bear. You missed him, you are shocked by how much you do, you thought bottling up your memories and emotions about him and stuffing them so far back into your mind you forgot would actually change anything. There had always been this lingering thought, at the recesses of your mind, the last thing you imagined before you fell asleep, the feeling that filled you the second you came back to Chicago, it was all Carmen, it was all your golden boy.

And now you would have to see him, in less than a day you would  be in the same room as Carmen Berzatto, you don't want to say it, you don't want to speak it into acknowledgement but deep down, you wanted to see him again. 

Beyond it all, you both were bonded in friendship, sharing something you didn't even have with Adeline or Mae, and you had felt like a part of yourself was missing each day that went passed without hearing from him. Had he forgotten you? Had it been as hard for him to go on with life? He had been in New York for christ sake, he didn't even think to visit you, that thought alone made you want to run back home and never come out.

You couldn't bare the possibility of exposing yourself to such heartache, to the chance of being rejected by the very person who you forever longed for. You were always searching for him, looking through crowds to see the familiar curl of his brown hair, or the scent he carried, ears always leaning in, trying to see if it would catch his syrupy baritone voice.

The two of you were forever connected, like the roots of trees spanning miles under the Earth. The kind of companionship that transcended time and space, and god did you want to feel the sharp edge of his jaw between your hands.

You couldn't stop it now, Richie had opened something you kept locked and sunk for a reason, and now it felt like you would break if you didn't see Carmen. Even if it would break you, even if it was the one thing in this world that would destroy you, 

You had to see your golden boy.

[semisolidmind]

(perhaps there's a certain sign, like a flash of light or the chime of a bell, that signifies readers' appearance in the monkey's world.)

and perhaps, it's been years, decades for the now-immortal monkeys, since they've seen their dear friend; that strange little human girl who would appear on their island home and dissapear with no explanation. 

perhaps, they've pushed all thoughts of her to the backs of their minds as they've grown older and more powerful. there's more important things to attend to, such as the successful raiding of a human settlement. the victorious shouts of their demon soldiers. the valuable assets they've gained from the looting. and taking those treasures home to their people on flower fruit mountain. the scent of blood and smoke fills the air, incense of the destruction left in the monkey warlords' wake.

the monkey king is an expert at rallying the bloodied demonic troops, and he would be remiss to not thank them for their service and allow them their cut of the spoils. macaque, on the other hand, is less verbose, preferring to stand in his brother's shadow and quietly take in their victory.

his superior hearing catches everything, and he senses a change in the air.

something's coming.

but he's not sure what, and he struggles to focus over the cacophony of the war party.

macaque steps away, following a growing feeling of...something, pulling him towards the unscorched treeline beyond the village's remains.

he silences his steps, following the feeling a ways into the woods. fruit trees grow wild around here, he offhandedly notes.

the light chime of a bell, and a quick flash of golden light, a short ways ahead of him. the sound of something hitting the forest floor...and a quiet, pained groan.

macaque steps forward into the clearing.

there's a human woman, lying on her side in the leaves beneath a peach tree. she holds her head as if it's hurting her.

she seems strangely...familiar.

the shadowy simian steps silently closer, curious.

he watches as she pushes herself up, one hand still pressed to the back of her head. he steps closer still, crouching on one knee next to her. she opens her eyes. he sees and feels her entire being freeze in fear. the naturally sadistic part of him takes pleasure in it.

wide doe-eyes, filling with scared, confused tears, meet slowly widening, poisonous violet hues. recognition flashes there.

"You." he breathes.

he knows those eyes, he'd know them anywhere.

she'd called his eyes pretty, once. he'd always thought the same of hers, though his child self was too shy to say so.

he belatedly realizes what a sight he must be; armored, fresh from battle, carrying his staff (he shadows it away when her eyes dart to it). he's covered in blood, and the smell of death and ash clings to him.

and for all his acquired charm, and despite his silver tongue...macaque can think of nothing else to say. his dear reader sits before him, in the flesh. she's beautiful...though clearly terrified and failing to hold in her tears.

it's unfortunate that all his years practicing death and destruction have dulled his ability to comfort. so he just...stares, taking her in. he can't stop himself from smiling just a tiny bit. it seems she's turned him shy again.

his ears twitch, and he hears wukong coming towards them; no doubt curious as to what has captured his brother's attention.

macaque finds himself oddly excited for his brother to see who's just been dropped back into their lives.

—

reader's breath comes quick and panicked. she doesn't know where she is. but there's a monster, a demon, so very close to her. she recognizes him, in some obscure part of her subconscious, as a grown, terrifying version of one of the little monkeys from her childhood daydreams.

the shy, dark-furred one with too many ears, she recalls blearily. there's little left of that boy in the warrior next to her. the red of his mask-like markings and the two crimson lines trailing from his mouth to just under his jaw are new, unsettling additions to his visage.

reality hits reader in waves. she can't move, she can't think, not moments ago she was in her home getting ready for bed like any normal evening and now—!

she has no idea where she is.

it doesn't seem like the island paradise from her memories, and everything around her feels too real, too solid and tactile for it to be a dream. the grass and leaves shift and rustle, the wind whispers, she smells...peaches? nearby, along with smoke and the unsettling metal tang of the blood clinging to her shadowy visitor. there's the sound of many distant voices, yelling and shouting with raucous joy, somewhere ahead of her. the light of a large fire cuts through the trees, red and yellow hues illuminating the leaves and blocking out the sparse stars of twilight.

it sounds like an army. and it looks like the end of a successful raid.

it doesn't take much to deduce that that's likely where her current...visitor, came from. by the looks of him, he might even be one of the leaders. his armour isn't flashy; a wickedly sharp-looking shoulder paldron half covered by a deep red scarf and cape, simple black and gold coverings beneath with small red accents to match. it all appears very...antiquated, but reader can't bring herself to focus on what region he's supposed to be from.

not as her panic continues to rise.

reader doesn't—she can't—she can't handle this. it can't be real. she made them up, made up their world and all its magic; everyone always said so! there's no way she's actually there, and there's no way the monster beside her actually exists.

but the feeling of his tail, black and sinuous, curling around her ankle, tears a sob from her throat. it just...feels too substantial, and she can't keep herself in denial. the responding low rumble from the monkey beside her (like he's trying to comfort her, as ridiculous as it sounds) causes another cascade of tears. 

reader jolts when she feels the demon's tail tighten slightly (it's a weirdly familiar gesture). she sees his ears twitch, and his eyes dart to the woods he came from.

someone's coming towards them.

reader is unprepared for the being that emerges from the trees.

he's clad in golden armor, its shine dulled by the blood streaked across it, and a tattered cape of the same crimson hue flutters behind him. the soot-stained feathers of his crown flow in his wake. he has a mask now too, the fang-like points on his cheeks decending into the fur framing his face, reminiscent of tears. a single, thick scarlet line spills from his bottom lip and dissapears under his chin. his red and gold eyes glow in the forest gloom, reminiscent of hellfire.

his fur is a horribly familiar shade of rusty orange.

reader feels like she's going to faint.

—

wukong wasn't sure why macaque had gone into the woods. after directing his soldiers to gather up any valuables they could find and start burning or cooking bodies, he decided he'd follow his brother and find out.

past the trees, he called out into the clearing. he sees his brother kneeling next to someone.

"Hey, Mac! Did'ya find a survivor or—"

he stills. not even his tail twitches.

there's no way.

he knows this human. would know her if he were blind, deaf, and in darkness. his best friend. the only one who ever really believed in him when he claimed he'd be the strongest one day.

reader.

it's unsettling to see such a boyish look of surprised joy slowly cross a face as fierce as the monkey king's, especially when it's still spattered in gore.

"It's you," he breathes, voice far too gentle for his visceral appearance. he steps quickly closer and joins his brother in a crouch on reader's opposite side, armor clanking on his way down.

she flinches away, and he moves a bit slower. wukong reaches a hand out to her face, curling his claws into his palm to brush his knuckles across her tear-stained cheek. the motion is tender, disbelieving. one ill-suited for a hand that causes mostly pain and death.

he unconsciously follows when she tries to move away; though macaque's tail, still clasped around her ankle, prevents her escape. the shadow general is still gazing at his quarry with soft eyes.

the monkey king smiles, baring fangs. "I thought we'd never see you again," he says wondrously. wukong catalogs every feature; soft hair, longer than when he last ran his claws through it, eyes still as pretty as ever, despite being wide with terror. she's changed, same as him.

he turns to his brother, still gently stroking reader's face.

"This day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?" wukong laughs. the sound feels wrong; too light-hearted to have come from a monster like him. macaque doesn't answer, but the small quirk of his lips is an agreement.

"There's so much we have to tell you, show you! The mountain is much more than it was, the monkey yao are prosperous and thriving, we've planted new orchards, the palace—we have a palace!—behind the waterfall is full of treasures; so much has changed! You've come back at the perfect time, you're going to love it there!" wukong rambles, his bright and excited tone clashing horribly with the coppery gore oxidating on his person.

"I'll take you there," macaque murmurs to reader, now covering her trembling hand with his.

"What?" wukong squawks. "No, I'm taking her! You've already got a head start, since you found her! You've been here for like, an hour already!"

"It's been barely ten minutes. And it's not like she's been very talkative, given the circumstances."

macaque looks to reader. her scared gaze is locked on his stupid, stupid older brother who can't seem to handle anything delicately—

"Besides, does she look up to traveling by cloud?" macaque gestures at a shaky and silently crying reader. she looks like she'd run if she thought she had a chance.

wukong would never say it, but his little brother has a point. poor reader is shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. it's then that wukong finds some self awareness; he looks terrifying, which under any normal circumstances, he'd have no problem with. except...

reader has always been soft. she never liked when either of the brothers felt the need to hunt, never liked the sight of blood when they'd proudly show off some small animal they killed.

well. she doesn't need to know just how much blood they've stained their hands with since they last saw her.

"You should go finish up with the soldiers. I'll take her home and get her set up in the palace. She likely needs food, and a bath. Her clothes are...strange, and nowhere near warm enough. I'll be faster by shadow, anyway." macaque grouses.

he reaches under reader, gathering her in his arms as quickly and gently as he can. she shrieks, pushing against him as he stands. her breathing picks up as she struggles, tears falling harder and faster. the dark-furred demon isn't deterred, holding her closer. the difference in power is clear. there's nothing she can do to make him let go.

wukong stands as well, hands curling into fists. he wants to hold reader, too.

"Go. Do your job, your majesty," macaque drawls sarcastically. "We'll see you at home later."

the shadow general summons a portal, stepping into it. it melts closed behind him and his unwilling passenger, leaving no trace that either of them were ever there.

wukong pouts. he turns back towards the charred remains of his latest conquest and his awaiting army.

he hates it when mac is right.

—

[queuestarter]

imbrued

(finnick odair x reader)

cw: stab wound, vomit, mentions of prostitution, murder, blood, death

link to the request → reader and finnick are in the quell together and reader gets injured. finnick does everything he can to protect her

open to submissions/asks !!

You never expected to be back.

Why would you? After winning the 68th Hunger Games, you thought you were free from the torment, but that was never the case. After winning and gaining the favor of the capitol, you were immediately thrust into the spotlight, being sold off to those who could afford you. You were given a slot each week on television, showing off baking recipes that you had no interest in making. 

And now, your name was called once more from the pool of victors, placing you back to where you started when you were just sixteen years old, only this time with your boyfriend Finnick by your side.

The events of the weeks leading up to the start of the Quarter Quell passed in a blur. Things only start registering with you when you’re finally in the arena, eyes searching frantically around your surroundings to try and figure out what’s going on.

You can see water immediately in front of you with trees just beyond it, which is more than ideal since you’re from District 4. In your first games, you had to trek through fields of tall grass for miles before there was a place to take shelter.

After you find your bearings on the platform, you immediately begin to search for Finnick. You spot him across the water, the distance upsetting you, but Johanna is on your other side which is slightly comforting. 

When the gong sounds, you immediately head for the Cornucopia. You thrived in the bloodbath in your last games and you plan to do so again. Finnick didn’t want you to put yourself at risk, but you have a reputation to uphold. You know the only way that you’re going to get any sponsors is if you put on a show.

Due to your strong swimming skills, you and Finnick get to the golden Cornucopia first. You barely have time to send a smile his way before you’re grabbing weapons- small knives to strap onto your body and a metal spear to hold. You feel a sick sense of satisfaction when you’re forced to use your newly acquired spear on another tribute, proud that you protected Finnick from a man that was going to kill him.

It’s only when you are finally forced away from the Cornucopia by Finnick’s strong hold on your upper arm that you have the time to talk to him. You can tell by the slight frown on his face that he’s not very happy with you.

“What were you thinking? I told you not to go to the Cornucopia.” He’s still holding onto your arm as you make your way through the jungle, Katniss and Peeta in front of you.

You roll your eyes and smile at him. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Finnick only frowns at you more. “I’m trying to protect you, here. Something bad could have happened.”

You actually laugh at that. “I know you remember my games, Finn. The Cornucopia was mine in the last games. Don’t worry so much about me.”

He sighs, but drops the subject. The two of you fall silent.

The next few hours are terrible. Peeta’s near death, the acid fog, the monkey mutts that killed the poor morphling from District 6 and claimed your spear. The Quell is moving at a much quicker pace than any of the games have in the past and it’s worrying you. 

Things only start to look up after Katniss uses Wiress’ cryptic words to discover that the arena is set up like a clock.

Finnick, ever inquisitive, says, “I’d like to go to the Cornucopia and watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock.” You all decide that it’s a pretty good idea and walk the short stretch over to the golden horn.

The others begin to talk mindlessly as you and Finnick branch off into your own conversation while you patrol the border of the Cornucopia. “It’s interesting that there’s nothing but weapons here this year. They’re really trying to get this over with,” you comment.

Finnick nods. “They want us dead. Good thing we know how to fish,” he smirks.

You shake your head in slight amusement, carefully toeing closer to everyone else. As you get closer to the group, you look up from your feet to see Gloss creeping up on the rock wedges, getting closer to an unsuspecting Wiress.

“No!” You scream, pulling a small dagger from your belt. “Wiress, move!” You try to close the gap between you and her.

But it’s too late. You watch in horror as Wiress’ throat gets easily cut by Gloss. Without much thought, you finish the sprint to Gloss, your blade swiftly leaving your hand and ending up in his neck. His eyes widen as he grabs at the handle but before doesn’t pull it out, instead he jumps towards you.

You almost don’t realize what happens. As Gloss lands on top of your body, the same knife he used to kill Wiress ends up in your lower abdomen. You scream, but in the chaos of trying to kill the rest of the careers along with the rapid shifting of the Cornucopia and surrounding waters, the sound gets lost.

It’s only after Finnick grabs your hand and begins to drag you off the island that the reality settles in. You were stabbed in the abdomen and you are losing blood. You put your hand over the wound and keep walking.

“Are you okay?” Finnick asks you once you are back on the beach. “Are you hurt?”

You debate lying for a second. The last thing anyone needs right now is another injured tribute. Beetee is barely hanging on as it is and Peeta is constantly slowing down the group, there doesn’t need to be another liability. But Finnick knows you and he would know if you lied to him.

“I think Gloss stabbed me,” is what ends up coming out of your mouth. You almost wish you lied when you see Finnick’s reaction.

His face twists up in a look of sheer panic, pupils blowing. His hands run across your body until they meet your own hand, holding firmly onto the meaty flesh of your lower torso. “Here?” He asks, gripping your red fingers. “This is where he got you?”

Tears welling up in your eyes, you nod. You can’t help but feel like a disappointment. You thought you would be able to absolutely dominate in these games based on your last ones, but you completely overlooked the fact that everyone else here is a victor, too.

“Okay, baby, let me look,” he gently commands. His eyes turn even wilder when you shake your head. “I need to look. I can’t help you if I can’t see it.”

Your hand drops from your side. Finnick wastes no time in unzipping your jumpsuit, pulling it below your sports bra and to your hips. He bites his lip as he assesses the damage. With a gentle hand, he prods at the tender flesh. A second later, you push him away and throw up.

You can hear him cursing behind you as you continue to retch. You don’t know why you’re sick, but you know that it cannot be good. 

When your sudden sickness is over and you turn back to Finnick to assure him that you don’t know what that was, that you’re fine, you see the rest of the group staring at you, Katniss hands Finnick a mound of what looks like moss in one hand and a small tube.

“I know this isn’t the best option, but it’ll help. I’m sure someone will send us something better soon,” he sends you a small, still panicked smile.

You just nod your head. You’re embarrassed and tired and you want everyone to stop staring at you. You allow Finnick to lead you to where the spile has been hammered into a tree, rinse your wound, apply the medicine, and pack it with the moss. After a few minutes, you feel as good as new.

“Thank you, Finn,” you smile at him. He wraps his arms around you tightly.

“Of course,” he breathes into your hair. “Anything for you. I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

You press a kiss on his collarbone. “That was nothing. I’m not going anywhere.”

“We need to get out of here. You need a real doctor.”

You nod into his shoulder, not too worried anymore. “Soon.”

“Soon,” he repeats back.

And he keeps his promise. The rest of the plan plays out, although not perfectly. You and Finnick are both evacuated and he makes sure you see a doctor, for both the stab in your stomach and the gash in your arm where you cut the tracker out.

You know there’s still more to do, but you feel safe knowing Finnick will be there to protect you.

-

[mariclerc]

Family cuddles | pg10

Summary: Your little girl decides to interrupt the peace and quiet of the morning. Warning: None, just you and Pierre being sweethearts.

a/n: dedicated and requested by: @martaaairwin1994-blog

Sunlight streams through the blinds, painting warm stripes across the bed where you and Pierre lie intertwined. The air is thick with the quiet contentment of a shared morning. Pierre, still half-asleep, mumbles something unintelligible against his girlfriend's neck.

“Mornin', sleepyhead.” you say with a smile.

Pierre stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He smiles at her, that easy, charming smile that makes her heart clench.

“Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?”

“Like a baby. You?”

“Like a king. Though, maybe a king with a tiny princess ruling over him.”

He gestures towards the doorway, where your almost! three-year-old daughter, Lucille, peeks in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She's wearing mismatched socks and a giant T-shirt that swallows her whole, but her grin is infectious.

“Peek-a-boo papa!”

“Luci! Come here, you little monkey!” you said squealing.

Lucille squeals with delight and launches herself onto the bed, landing with a soft thud between her parents. Pierre scoops her up, showering her face with kisses.

“Good morning, sunshine! Did you sleep well?” Pierre asks her.

“Yes, Papa! I had a dream about bunnies and fluffy clouds.” She giggles.

“Sounds magical. What did the bunnies do?” you asked curiously.

“They flew on the clouds! And they sang a song about carrots.” She said shyly.

Pierre and his girlfriend exchange a fond look. Lucille's boundless imagination never fails to amuse them.

“Sounds like a pretty cool dream. Maybe we can draw a picture of it later?”

“Yes! And we can color the bunnies pink!” Luci says while clapping her hands.

“Pink bunnies, huh? Sounds perfect.” You say with a smile at your daughter's creativity.

Lucille nestles closer to her mother, her soft breaths tickling her skin. Her girlfriend smiles, wrapping an arm around her daughter's small frame. Pierre joins them, his hand finding hers, creating a warm circle of love. The morning sun paints the room in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the bed.

“I love you, Mama.” Lucille mumbles.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always and forever.”

Lucille's breathing becomes even, the rhythmic rise and fall a soothing lullaby. Pierre watches them, his heart swelling with a love he never thought possible. He remembers the countless sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, the moments of pure exhaustion. But looking at them now, bathed in the quiet contentment of morning, he wouldn't trade it for anything.

“You're incredible.” He says as he kisses your forehead.

“We're incredible together, don't you think?” You smile sleepily.

Their fingers intertwine, a silent promise of shared dreams and unwavering support. The silence is broken only by the soft chirping of birds outside the window and the gentle hum of the refrigerator downstairs. It's a simple moment, yet it holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

“Remember when we were young and carefree?” Pierre whispers.

“Barely remembers yesterday, let alone years ago!” you chuckled.

“I meant carefree in a good way. No responsibilities, just us.”

“And now we have the biggest responsibility of all, but the best kind.”

“You're right. Being her parents, watching her grow each day, it's the most rewarding thing in the world.”

They fall silent again, their thoughts turning to their future as a family. The little girl nestled between them is a constant reminder of the journey they've shared, the obstacles they've overcome, and the love that binds them together. The sun climbs higher, painting the room in a brighter light, signaling the start of a new day. But for now, they hold onto this precious moment, a stolen cuddle in the morning sun, a testament to the enduring power of love and family.

[alexa-fika]

Hear me out

Dragon!Child!reader is just casually flying along the seas visiting many islands and just vibing, Child got no concept of the government at ALL so whenever Reader wants to get some food she always remembers humans uses these gold coins and reader just coughs it out. BASICALLY UH Calm peaceful Dragon child flying and having fun while others are like

'IS THAT A FREAKIN DRAGON-'(⁠ʘ⁠ᗩ⁠ʘ⁠’⁠)

(okay I don't know where this is going now ಠ⁠∀⁠ಠ)

Wandering Dragon ( Whitebeard pirates x dragon!fem!child!reader x revolutionary army)

A/N: Here we go! I only did two crew’s, more like one and a half because I really wanted to give you guys something. I really love writing these hybrid!reader they are so fun.

Part 2 with The Whitebeard pirates

Dividers by @/saradika

“Where did she come from?” Dragon asks as he stares at the running child, her tail trailing behind her as she ran

“She flew into the ship a while ago, said she was exploring,” Ivankov answers as he watches the girl jump into Koala’s hands, laughing

“I’ve never seen something like her in all my years!” Koala grins at the child as she curls up on her shoulder

“Nor have I, I don’t ever remember seeing one of her kind in my life,” Sabo speaks up as he leans in closer to get a better look at the girl

She leans back from koala, wiggling out of her grasp and flapping her wings flying in front of Sabo

“Whoa there, aren’t you cute?” Sabo glances at the child with a slight smile on his face, reaching a hand out towards her

She furls up in a ball, beaming at his comment, still keeping herself up in the air, her cheeks tinted pink

“Thank you~.”

“You have scales on your cheeks… are you a dragon girl?” Sabo asks, still reaching his hand out carefully toward her

She unfurls herself, leaning into his touch and allowing him to feel the scales on her cheek

“Im Dragon Hybrid; I guess that makes me a dragon girl,” she says, thinking about it

“A dragon girl… that’s pretty incredible,” Sabo murmurs, smiling softly at the girl as he lightly runs a finger across her cheek

“Are you a Dragon Man? They called you Dragon. Are you a cool dragon? Can you breathe fire? Or are you a water dragon? Does your form like a serpent?” She rambles, flying in front of dragon excitedly

“She’s energetic,” Dragon says before sighing as he watches the child and rubbing his temples as he watches her buzz around

“I think she’s adorable,” Koala gushes with a grin on her face

“No. I am not a dragon; My name is Monkey D. Dragon.”

“Awe, no dragon? Nothing?”

“What do I look like a Dragon to you?” Dragon sighs, rubbing his hand down his face as he stares at Alexandra

“Hmmm,” she thinks as he circles him

“Yeah, kinda do.”

“Please tell me how I look like a dragon,” Dragon asks with a scoff in his tone

“You remind me of some of the grumpy dragons; they have that same scowl you have right now.”

“That is quite an interesting way to describe someone,” Dragon replies, shaking his head with a slight grin

“She is an interesting child, that’s for certain” Sabo speaks up, glancing at her curiously while she circles his captain

He grins as he calls her over

“Check this out,” he says, lighting his hand on fire

She awes at the sight

“Are you a dragon?”

“Just an ability granted to me by my devil fruit” He smiles, returning his hand to its original state

“The mera mera fruit! Somehow both me and my brother have it.” ” He continues, excited about demonstrating his abilities

She marbles at his numerous tricks and fire abilities that he keeps showing her

She frowns as nightfall falls; hours had gone quickly as she went from member to member with her usual antics

At one point even giving Ivancov a heart attack as they casually started coughing out golden coins when they had asked her how she bought food for herself.

“Is this not how you guys normally get these shiny things?” She had questioned, much to the shock and horror of some of the crewmates

“Aww, I have to get going now.”

“You’re going?” Koala looks at her disappointedly; she had enjoyed being around the child

“Mmhm, I have to keep going if I want to explore and meet more places and people. Im sure I‘ll see you again 'cause we're both moving around.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing you again then.”

“Goodbye, be careful on your travels, alright?” Sabo says with a soft smile before reaching out to gently ruffle her hair before she takes off

“And don’t get yourself into too much trouble!” Ivankov calls after the girl before turning to the others,

“Well, she was a pleasant surprise” he grins

“I didn’t expect a child to just wander into our ship,” Dragon chuckles while rubbing his head

Reader had now somehow found themselves aboard the Moby Dick, she was tired from her travels and needed to land, and the ship happened to be the closest.

She sneaked her way to the storage room so she could sleep the night away, and she did until she was interrupted when two of the ship's commanders descended into the storage room in search of more food to restock the kitchen. Ace accidentally knocks into one of the boxes, startling awake the dragon girl; he stares at her for a while as she stares back.

“Thatch, are you thinking what im thinking?”

“Yep, old pops is gonna throw a celebration when he hears we have got ourselves a kid on board.”

She stares at them for a second and smiles

Ace chuckles before leaning down in front of you.

"What's your name, kid?" he says, grinning.

“Im reader!” She replies, her wings flapping gently behind her

"Well, hey there, Reader. I'm Ace. And that's Thatch," he says, gesturing to the man standing next to him.

She grins and waves at them excitedly

Ace laughs and picks her up.

"What are you doing stowing away on our ship, anyway? It's not like you could even fit in these boxes. You know, most stowers usually just do it so that they can rob our ship. But the thing is, I don't see any weapons on you." Thatch comments, observing her

“Im not stowing away! Im exploring!” The pout,

“And I don’t need any weapons! I got these!” She says as she wacks her tail and wings and gently headbutts Ace with her horns

Ace laughs as she headbutts him.

"You're pretty feisty, huh? That's a good trait for a pirate. And you say you're not a stowaway or a robber, but you're definitely a bit of a troublemaker, aren't you?"

“Im not a Pirate either.”

Thatch chuckles, a bit confused.

"You're not a pirate? Well, what are you then? A marine? A merchant? Or even a traveler?" he asks.

“Umm, I ‘m Reader!”

"Well, okay then. And how old are you, Reader?" he asks.

“8!”

Ace laughs, looking at Thatch

"Eight? Now I really want to take her to Pops. Because I can already tell that he's gonna love you, kiddo." He says, glancing back at her

“Popsicle?”

They snicker

"Popsicle? No, no, no, no. Pops. Our captain. Whitebeard? He's probably gonna get a kick out of finding a stowaway as adorable as you." Thatch explains

“Not a stowaway!”

"Okay, okay, okay. Fine, fine. You're not a stowaway. You're just an adorable little kid who decided, at eight years old, to explore on her own. Not to mention, you just decided to explore the ship of the Whitebeard Pirates, of all places.”Ace says, fixing his previous statement for the small girl

She nods, pleased with his description

Sabo was so wholesome here 🥹, Also reader is a lowkey menace in this one lmao, let me know if I should continue this, add more to the whitebeard crew and/or add different crew’s as well.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[ataraxiaspainting]

Banquet of Massacre.

Yan Geto x F Reader.

Synopsis: The days are blending into each other, and you just want some sort of change. But soon, you realize you have to be far more careful about what you wish for.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW implications, takes place five or so years before JJK 0, and violence.

Continuation of Presentiment of Massacre.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

The green obi gently tightening with each passing second stops at your words, but after a chuckle resumes, the slight anger in Geto’s voice is smaller than the width of a hair.

He continues with the loose, wide red sodes. You focus so much on your anxiety, about what the rest of your life will be, that you don’t notice the small golden details of koi on the red sleeves. You don’t even pay attention to the silk that ties your wrists together, a consequence of you attempting to squirm your way out of dinner again. Not that dinner was anything special this evening.

“You know,” His voice rises and falls like the wind. “Perhaps there are some things you shouldn’t say to the only reason you are still alive.”

With that, he pulls, much harder than before, on the ends of the sash, causing you to gasp for air for a moment or two. 

“I could still feed you to one of my curses you know, or all of them at the same time, they would love to get a taste of you.”

At your desperate whines, as you attempt to claw at the ceiling with restrained hands, he lets go, and with his action, your vision blurs no longer.

He spins you around and he licks his lips.

“I-I’m sorry, Master Geto.” You might be uncertain if you mean your apology, but perhaps Geto has the answer.

Just as you are not sure if Geto forgives you, but he knows the answer for sure.

The woman sitting next to both of you on the floor holds a golden hairpin in her ragged, scarred hands. She holds the hairpin just like she held the underlayer, obi string, socks, obi, and sash. She held and currently holds them all so delicately because she did not want to lose her hands. She was your handmaiden, according to Geto, and although the two of you had never exchanged words, you knew her first name was Sookee, but her last name was of no relevance if it even existed. 

Even though she was around your age, Sookee looked much older than she was because of her premature wrinkles and little white hairs sticking out of her bangs, clear signs of all the stress Geto and the rest of the people here put her through. She was an indentured servant of sorts, from what you were told, and she, like you, is often tormented by the people who live here.

You feel bad for her, whenever you hear her screams and cries, whenever she trips and breaks a porcelain teapot and gets beaten for it, or when she is too late to dress you for supper, which always causes Geto to summon a curse that is so ugly and follows her for the rest of the day and makes crude comments toward her.

There was one time that it actually bit her, and after an hour’s worth of begging, Sookee earned the right to bandage herself up.

“Monkey,” The word is bitter on his tongue and lingers in the air for far longer than either Sookee or you would have liked. “Pin.”

Although you sympathize with Sookee, your instinct urges you to prioritize your well-being before her.

“Since you are so ungrateful for the life I have given you, maybe it would be better to make you like Sookee. Would you like that, princess? To be lesser than a pauper?”

You deeply repent for uttering a single word, which emerges from your lips with complete despair. Meanwhile, Geto wears a smile as he delicately places the luxurious golden hairpin, worth more than your two kidneys combined, into your hair. With a dismissive gesture and a piercing look, he sends Sookee away, and she quietly shuts the door behind her.

You don’t stop him from pushing you onto the bed, large enough for at least five people to rest on, because really is there anything you can do? “You’re so pretty. The loveliest one, the only one worthy of what I am about to do.”

You are trapped here, forever bound by him. The door is guarded by a terrifying curse that ensures your confinement, although Geto's power makes it unnecessary. You find yourself in this place, adorned in the kimono he compelled you to wear, lying in his bed, with the makeup Sookee was forced to apply on you. And here you are, hearing his whispered words of affection as he lies upon you.

“Since you are so ungrateful for what you already have, I will give you more and more, my love, until you regret ever wishing for a life outside of this one.”

[quitealotofsodapop]

Silly LMK au where Bai He is Tang's daughter;

Tang aquires Bai He (adoption, next of kin, or biologically) around the time Pigsy finds MK, causing the two new parents to go "well damn, we're together with kids now I guess. Might as well move in together." ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pigsy is convinced that their precious baby girl can do no wrong - Tang is far more wiser about his daughter's tricks - Bai He has her Baba wrapped around her little finger.

Canon is almost identical at first except MK pretty much grows up with a mischievous baby sister that he's uber protective of. And ofc MK openly calls the two men his parents (Baba and Bama/Pama for Pigsy and Tang respectively) cus why not? Probably has a small crisis at the age he realises that he's not Freenoodles bio-kid.

Bai He likes following/tagging along on noodle drives to hang out with her big bro (and play Pokemon Go). She tags along with MK on the fateful delivery that leads to him getting the staff.

Bai He is the type of little kid to look the newly-resurrected Demon Bull King in the eye and loudly proclaim; "HEY! You leave my gēge alone you bully!", causing MK to panic even harder about the situation they're both in. (Though DBK & PIF are struck impressed by the human calf's daring).

When MK gains the Monkey King himself as his mentor - Bai He respectively gains a shadowy bodyguard.

Things after New Years however? Well...

Lets just say that LBD cannot hide from the fury of the Golden Cicada :)

[wheneclipsefalls]

Courting Spider

Pairing: Spider x Na'vi Male OC

Masterlist AO3

Summary: It's time that someone takes care of Spider for once. Zhali is up for the task.

Warnings: aged up Spider/Sully kids, explicit, MDNI, male x male, size difference, Na'vi x human pairing, oral, insecurities, angst, trauma, injury, blood, perfectionism, Spider just needs to be loved, etc.

A/N: Wow, this took a while but it is finally here. Not too confident with some of the writing style for ths one but hopefully it still makes sense.

“What about the back panel?” 

“Useless.” Zhali quickly interjects, weaving the soft fabric together with practiced precision. Lo’ak huffs slightly, titling his head as he watches the male work on the small piece of clothing. 

“He’s not going to wear it with his ass out, brother.” 

Zhali rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. He will never understand the Sky Demon’s obsession with modesty. Clothing should allow one to move freely and if it shifts from one way to the other, so what? Who would truly notice, anyways?

Well, he supposes, were it Spider he himself would notice. 

And suddenly all that Zhali can think about is getting a glimpse of the little Tawtute’s bum, just another peek at that beautifully soft and squishing form of his. As tempting as the idea is, however, it does have him editing his original claim. If he has interest in seeing that sculpted ass, surely other Na’vi or even Sky Demons could have the same intentions.

He decides to weave together a back panel after all. Besides, once the small Sky Demon has been courted and agrees to mate with him, it may be more rewarding to have that area of his mate revealed to his eyes only. That thought has the slightest curve of a smile lacing his lips. 

Lo’ak, as always, is one to notice the shift in demeanor, but he pays the other male no mind. After all, there would have been no chance of executing this courting properly without Lo’ak’s insights. Zhali thanks the Great Mother that he has close enough ties with someone Spider considers his best friend. Otherwise, how else would he know how to make a loincloth for the boy in the first place? Or not to leave dead kills at the outpost’s front entrance as a courting gift?

Lo’ak’s information is irreplaceable. It’s hard enough to wrap his mind around the different customs and concerns of a small tawtute, let alone court one without any insight in the first place. 

Although it may seem unconventional to some Na’vi, opinions that he has heard personally from some friends and family, Zhali knows that there is no one else for him besides Spider. 

He can still recall the spark of interest that had been there during their adolescence, watching the small boy with golden hair saunter across the forest confidently. He had moved with a grace and agility that Zhali had never witnessed from a Tawtute. Back then, his small crush was poorly nourished as his parents tried their hardest to keep him from spending too much time around Sky Demons. Searching to become a warrior and clan member that would make his parents proud, Zhali had refrained from stepping out of bounds. 

There were small moments he had caught with the so-called monkey boy, but it was always in the presence of others. 

The night of Spider’s capture had been a core memory for Zhali. He recalls it as the night he truly began his path to adulthood. Regret and dread had laced his gut as he realized his own cowardice had broken any real chance at connecting with the other male. It shifted his perspective, pushing him forward until he had made himself a promise that night. 

Never again would he let criticism and judgment keep him from following his heart’s desires. 

It was only the direct command and even surveillance from the new Olo’eyktan that had kept him from storming Hell’s gate as a one man army. 

Those years apart had been painful, but they had shaped him into the man he is today, the man he needed to become. There had been slight relief that came from hearing of Spider reuniting with the Sully family across the sea. However, he could never erase the sting of missed opportunity.

Following the footsteps of his father and other warriors, Zhali had channeled this pressing emotion into his training. The sun would barely be upon the horizon before Zhali began his daily grind. He had excelled in every aspect that a young warrior could, spending extra hours training alone with only the glowing light of eclipse for aiding sight. When he had pushed himself in every aspect of hunting, fighting, and gathering possible he had moved on to homemaking skills. 

Now, sitting here with only a few months of weaving underneath his fingertips, he’s proud to find the garment an attractive item thus far. A surprising fact considering how his discipline and attention has slipped upon the Sully family’s return. Or rather, Spider’s return. 

Seeing the small tawtute advance from behind the Sully family, hair somehow turned a lighter shade of gold and arm adorned with shelled jewelry, Zhali had felt like a child once more. The Great Mother had been kind to him, advancing his form into that of a true muscled warrior and adorning him with skills that were far beyond anything the could’ve dreamed about at fifteen, but none of that seemed to matter when faced with Spider once more. His stomach had tightened into a million different knots, tail swinging and ears flickering desperately as he took in the beautiful male before him. 

Although taken aback and slightly nervous, something he would never admit, Zhali had expressed these emotions in the best way he knew how; hard work. The family had only been home for little more than a moon cycle but the male’s courting plans were already underway. His consultation with Lo’ak had informed him that the beautiful tawtute was in fact still unmated. He figured that the Metkayina Na’vi knew nothing of real value placed in their laps if they had somehow managed to miss courting such an exquisite creature. 

Nevertheless, he is grateful for their insolence. 

The yearnings of his heart have never ceased and Zhali would have his soul taken up to Eywa before he’d let this chance slip away again. 

“You’re sure about this color?” He murmurs, concentrating on the intricate trim to lace the sides. Next to him Lo’ak lounges along the marui floor with one leg propped as he bites into the delicious fruit he missed oh so much. Golden eyes flicker over to the intricate pattern of green material, different shades popping out in precise patterns. 

“Well he did complain about there not being enough green on Awalatuu.” 

“I asked you what his favorite color was.” Zhali huffs out, finally letting the unfinished garment rest on his lap. Lo’ak hardly flinches under the glare he receives, simply shrugging his shoulders before continuing to eat. 

“I know. Figure it must be green if he complained about its absence so much.”

It’s not fair to bite back at the hand that feeds him. Zhali knows this. He repeats it in his head over and over again. If there is one thing that he has learned about Spider it’s that no one treats the poor boy the way he deserves. Lo’ak and Kiri are the closest things that the small human has to friends, but even they have other parts of their lives that pull their attention away from him. There are always other obligations and personal problems that come first before Spider and to Zhali’s dismay, the boy accepts it. 

Being left in the shadows is something that has become natural to Spider in his life. The Sully family takes him in, but never with the attitude of treating him like their very own. The scientists at the lab have watched over him since he was a child but not one of them was truly a parent. They too, have their own worries and concerns. Most are too focused on their own research and work to really prioritize raising a child. 

That familiar lingering of guilt resurfaces when Zhali remembers that he too let Spider remain hostage with those Demons for months on end, not one rescue party sent after him. 

It’s a fact that haunts him to this day, but he vows to leave all those mistakes behind. Spider will be safe and taken care of in his arms, by his side and treated with the love and respect that he deserves. For the first time in the boy’s life, he will know what it means to be someone’s first priority. 

Spider can still feel Neteyam’s curious glances thrown his way as they walk silently back to the human outpost. With the small bundle of fine fabric carefully clasped in his hands, it feels like a small eternity before the human boy can comprehend the turn of events. Upon his return to the Omatikaya clan Spider had assumed that most outside of a few humans from the lab outpost would remember him, let alone receive a courting gift from one of the clan’s finest Na’vi males. 

Is that what this is? A courting gift?

Although, Zhali had used all the proper words one would upon extending a courting gift and beaming at Spider’s acceptance, it’s still difficult to be one hundred percent certain that is what had occurred. The ogling he had done over the garment in front Zhali had been taken in with a smile bursting of pride that seared into Spider’s countenance. The blush that erupted over his tan skin wasn’t even comprehensible until the heat was enough to have him sweating underneath the glass of his mask. 

Looking back, Spiders knows that his gratitude had been little more a stumbling of thank you’s and rambled thoughts that hardly finished into full sentences. It didn’t seem to matter, however, as Zhali had left the pair with a stride that made him look as if he was walking on clouds. Truthfully, Spider often makes that comparison when watching the male prance along the forest with ease. He wouldn’t necessarily call it ogling….just keen observations that he can’t help but make. 

Neteyam had been almost entirely silent during the exchange and when Zhali had broken away, his only comment had been something about the smooth fabric being made of rare materials only present in the Hallelujah mountains. Spider had done nothing more than nod in response. Now, meeting up with Lo’ak once more, Neteyam jumps in to relay the scene to his younger brother. Lo’ak simply smirks and shoots Spider a wink. 

It punches through his blood and once again Spider finds sweat gathering at the edges of his mask. He knows his friend better than he would like to at times, so he knows that looks like that always come with a reason from Lo’ak. He seems neither surprised nor reluctant to let that signature smirk show. 

Perhaps it isn’t in his head after all. 

A courting gift for him. 

Made specifically for him. 

It’s disheartening when Spider realizes that he never expected to receive one of these. 

He makes an excuse about needing rest in order to get away from the Sully brothers as soon as possible. Once back inside the common area of the outpost, he flings the sweat mask off of his face and to the side carelessly. 

“Spider.” Norm sighs from his work station. No words are needed to show that he does not approve of the boy’s disregard of the equipment. 

“Busy.” Spider rushes out before practically sprinting to his room. That is if it can be called a room. It’s a corner of the outpost that Spider had managed to claim for himself with old drapes hung up messily for privacy and a hammock strung up that he had made himself. His greatest and most rare possession however was a floor length mirror. Spider had gone through Hell and back in order to get it here. And by Hell, he meant literal Hell’s Gate where the RDA had left their fancy gear behind the first time. 

He rushes to throw the bag of fruit to the side and shuffles himself over onto the bed. The soft cloth is unfolded as if he is about to handle the rarest of Pandora’s diamonds and to Spider it might as well be.  Perhaps even more valuable considering the rarity. 

The fabric slipped along his fingers like the sway of a rushing river, a smooth effortless motion. His own grimy hands caked with dirt and a hint of blood from rough housing with Neteyam look horrifying next to the carefully crafted garment. In fact, it’s enough to have Spider setting the piece to the side and rushing to the bathroom so he can wash his hands. It would be a shame to ruin the loincloth so quickly simply because of his bad hygiene. 

Stomping past Norm and the other lounging scientists he tries to ignore him. 

“Kid, what have I told you about leaving your mask on the ground?” Norm huffs but Spider is already closing the door to the cramped bathroom.

He may have been a teenager when he was captured by the RDA but now has come into full adulthood. Something Norm seems to have a hard time understanding. Spider doesn’t care how much water he hogs in order to get every speck of dirt and grime from his hands. He only leaves the cramped bathroom when his skin is scrubbed raw and red. 

Leaning back against the woven hammock he allows himself the proper time to just admire the details of his new gift. It’s a beautiful emerald green with precise stitching that works to outline patterns of leaves and greenery. Under the harsh light of the outpost bulbs, the boy admires the way the thread glimmers with the shift of light. He thanks Eywa that it has a back panel. It may be something he is used to seeing with Na’vi but Spider can not imagine having his own ass hanging out of his loincloth, especially without a tail for it to wrap around. 

Once he finally wrangles up the courage to try on the loincloth he is amazed to see how perfectly it fits. The fabric is like silk against his rough skin. Or at least what he remembers silk to feel like from that one time another scientist let him touch her silk pillowcase. The band is woven of various colored threads and twine that come together to create criss cross patterns. His fingers brush them softly in a silent reverence. 

Spider looks at the mirror and allows himself to drink in the sight. Most days, the boy uses the mirror to simply swat at his dreadlock hair or repaint the blue stripes on his skin, but never can he remember a time that he uses it to admire himself. To look at his appearance head on and feel something more than indifference or longing to be a version of himself that is blue and a few feet taller. 

Being a human is something that Spider has learned to make peace with, but that doesn’t mean he particularly likes the look of himself. The blue stripes help slightly to cover the extra squish of his body that is normally nonexistent across Na’vi stomachs. With the beautiful garment now fitted perfectly to his hips, Spider notices for the first time how good a color besides blue looks on him. 

The heap of leather that is his usual loincloth seems like nothing more than a discarded washcloth now. Jake had been the one to show him how to weather the material and fashion it into clothing but from there the job had been his own to update the garment in stride with his growth spurts. 

The loincloth is so  clean and pristine in comparison to the rest of Spider’s appearance that for a moment he considers putting it away for safekeeping. What would happen if he tore a hole in it or got dirt rubbed into the careful stitching? It’s too beautiful to take the risk. 

However, when his fingers start to undo the carefully tied knots at the sides, he catches another glance of himself in the mirror and he hesitates. It looks so much better than before. He looks so much better than before. Maybe it has nothing to do with the loincloth’s quality at all. Perhaps it’s the careful thought and effort put into such an extraordinary gift. A thought for him. Just him and only him. 

One simple reminder that someone thinks he is worthy of nice things. 

Spider allows himself the privilege of wearing this reminder throughout the day. 

Zhali does not have many opportunities to spend time with Spider, especially without the company of others. Most nights he only gets to share a few sentence exchanges with the boy before either him or Spider is pulled away by their responsibilities or nagging friends. It doesn’t kill his spirits, however, not when he notices how beautiful the tawtute looks wearing his courting gift. Pride swells to the size of a balloon in his chest upon seeing how perfect the fit is. This feeling only inflates to new bounds when he sees Spider wear the garment every day without fail. 

Having been entrusted with leading one of the hunting parties on a daily basis, Zhali finds himself daydreaming about the male between patrols and petting down the direhorse. The other Na’vi in the crew do not fail to notice his shift in demeanor. Although some of them spread rumors that it has to do with Zhali’s unbridled affection for a certain golden haired tawtute, no one goes out of their way too complain. Controversial or not, Zhali is more forgiving of their mistakes when he is in high spirits. It matters not that it comes from a small Sky Demon. 

Lo’ak continues to assist Zhali in preparing another gift for Spider. This time they settle on weaving together a simple but stunning armband. Surprisingly this requires more experience and skill than the loincloth but he has never been one to back away from the struggle that comes from picking up a new trade. Zhali’s fingers work tirelessly as Lo’ak chatters on about the Metkayina clan and what adventures he missed. 

Later that night Zhali listens to the encroaching thunder that rumbles in the distance. Even his direhorse hesitates in his stride but he urges him forward. There is less than an hour left of his patrol and then he will return to his carefully crafted hut to get some much needed rest. However, now the sound of thunder and lightning is becoming more pressing and the male becomes less and less sure of how soon that sleep will come. 

It comes as no surprise when the first drops of rain quickly picks up into a full downpour. Lo’ak grumbles next to him, but Zhali ignores the other male’s mumbled curses and directs them to split up so more ground can be covered. They might as well check up on the family huts and make sure everyone has the sufficient coverings and supplies needed for the storm.  

It’s when he’s wading through the heavy greenery and wiping water from his eyes that Zhali catches sight of something peculiar. He follows the movement of bushes slowly, urging the direhorse to tread carefully. With the blanket of falling rain it’s difficult to identify the small creature wading through the greenery. Judging by the amount of rustle it creates, Zhali concludes that the creature must be either injured or panicking in the storm. He urges the horse to prowl closer as the rain pelts against his back mercilessly. 

It becomes near impossible to see anything in the thick greenery but there is a series of snapping branches and he watches as the beast comes tumbling down the hill. It rolls and crashes along the greenery before finally hitting the bottom of a tree trunk with a grunt. Through the thick sheet of rain, Zhali finally catches a glimpse of golden hair flying in the wind.

Spider!

He’s off the direhorse within a heartbeat and racking through the thick leaves moments later. Spider is sprawled out on the muddy ground, limbs stretched in every direction. The boy blinks, seemingly trying to comprehend the turn of events. 

“Spider.” Unintentionally Zhali words come out as a hiss. The Na’vi searches over the boy’s body frantically to see if there are any fatal wounds. With limited light it’s difficult to fully see where the sources of blood are so he shifts to use his fingertips to feel for wounds. Spider simply groans and stares up at him through slitted eyes as Zhali weaves through his hair in search of a head injury. He prays to the Great Mother that he won’t find one. 

The Sky Demon’s small body is covered in mud and littered with a plethora of bruises and bleeding scrapes. Luckily, none of these injuries appear to be more serious than the deeper cut over his shoulder. It will require bandaging and a series of healing ointments to prevent infection. Zhali is already running through the list of healing procedures he plans to execute on the boy when Spider’s voice finally breaks him out of the trance. 

“Hey.” Spider speaks in a gravelly hushed tone. “I-I’m ok.” He goes to sit up but a large blue hand covering half of his chest, gently pushes him back down. “Sorry I just lost my grip….got a little disoriented but…yeah sorry.” 

“You’re bleeding.” Zhali says bluntly. 

Spider looks down to see a smear of red painting his shoulder. Zhali watches his reaction with perked ears and pointed tail on alert but Spider simply knits his brows together and shrugs. However, the small being is unable to hide the grimace that flashes across his features. It has become a real effort on Zhali’s part to learn the ways of reading human expression, especially ones covered by those ridiculous masks. It can be incredibly frustrating trying to read one’s reaction without a flickering tail or ears to give away the boy’s state. 

“Oh shit, yeah, I guess I am. It’s ok…the outpost has a first aid kit so…” 

It’s then Zhali’s turn to scrunch his features in confusion. 

A first aid kit? Is that another one of those Sky Demon inventions those scientists are so fond of? Once Zhali had snuck down with Lo’ak and Neteyam when they were teens to the outpost and he had caught sight of things beyond his wildest imagination…or rather wildest horrors. He had watched as giant trunk shaped contraption fold around a human before sucking him into the wall. Lo’ak and Neteyam had later explained that these were the devices used by the Avatars to dream walk. Zhali could never erase how similar it had looked to the coffins that Jake had once described, the constricting box made to bury dead bodies. 

Would they put Spider in there too? Or something else? Perhaps this first aid kit would be even worse. 

No. He would not be returning to the outpost for those horrors. Zhali is more than capable of patching up the injuries and giving Spider the care he truly deserves. 

“No need, come. I will take you home.” Zhali says while carefully helping the boy to finally sit up. Spider’s lips purse for a moment as if he is about to say something but he must have read that wrong because it disappears just as quickly as it came and the small tawtute remains silent. 

It is, however, when Zhali easily lifts the male into his arms that Spider strings together a nervous onslaught of objections. 

“Oh woah, hey it’s ok. I can walk. I-I’m not really that hurt-”

Lightning strikes across the night sky. Thunder is quick to follow and by the sounds of deep rumbling, Zhali is confident that the storm is only about to get worse. Spider squeaks when he is easily lifted onto the direhorse without response. The other male makes quick work of sliding in behind him and reconnecting tsaheylu before the direhorse becomes too freaked out by the tawtute’s presence. It’s almost second nature to slip his forearms securely around Spider’s waist, keeping him safely atop the creature. 

He can feel the boy shiver in his embrace, but it’s difficult to tell whether it is from his touch or the relentless onslaught of rain.

“Thanks.” Spider’s mumble barely rings audible over the storm’s fury. The small sound still manages to bring a smile to Zhali’s face as he nods back in recognition and they begin their journey back towards the village. 

Despite the fact that Spider is conscious and not nearly as injured as he could’ve been, he is anxious to get the human to the healer’s tent as soon as possible. This urgency only increases when he can physically feel the boy’s body shaking like a leaf in the wind. His arm tightens around the small male, hoping to let some of his own natural body heat transfer over to him. It’s disconcerting to see how easily a little tawtute can be affected by the elements. It  serves as another reminder of how fragile the pretty boy truly is. It’s easy to forget at times when Spider is swinging from branches like a monkey, but now all he can see in his mind’s eyes is the replay of his small body tumbling down the steep decline helplessly. 

It’s then that Zhalie remembers the cloak he has packed away by the saddle. He manages to wrap the thick fabric around both of them. It covers Spider completely and to the male’s delight he finds that the human curls up against his warm chest. He’s satisfied to find that this solution keeps the pelting rain from attacking Spider any further. 

Zhali is made for these types of elements but he can only imagine how Spider’s small fragile body could be reacting to such harsh conditions. He makes a mental note to learn more about human anatomy in the coming days. Perhaps Lo’ak could arrange some sort of meeting with one of the remaining medical Sky Demons at the outpost. He hates the smell of chemicals and sterilized metal there but it would be preferable to the real feeling of inadequacy he has now. 

To his horror Zhali finds that the pathway to Tshaik’s tents has already eroded into a rushing stream and the tent itself is completely abandoned. He checks in with the Olo’eyktan over the throat comm and comes to find that Mo’at has fled to higher ground with the injured and sick to wait out the storm. With Spider barely conscious in his curled up position against him, Zhali decides that the only logical course of action is to bring the boy back to his kelku for the night. 

No matter, there are sure to be enough supplies at his home to patch Spider up and take care of him before the condition gets worse. 

Or at least, that is what he mentally assures himself over and over again until they reach the trunk of his kelku. 

Zhali is forced to let Spider crawl up the trunk himself as the tawtute is less than willing to let himself be carried again. He considers overriding this decision but he figures it’s already lucky enough that the blonde hasn’t insisted on being dropped off at the outpost instead. He takes the tender mercy in stride and makes sure to be below the boy in case he manage to slip, constantly ready to catch him if needs be. 

Zhali is in full action mode as he goes about efficiently securing the waterproof drapes. Spider hangs back, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. Once the task is finished he turns around to find the boy’s arms wrapped around himself, seemingly curling up in on himself as trembles still wrack his body. It is such stark contrast to the usual confident and sassy demeanor that Spider upholds. Whether it is from the cold or the slightly traumatic situation, Zhali vows to coax the boy into being at ease as soon as possible. 

“I-it’s nice.” Spider manages to mumble out before audibly clearing his throat. Those hazel eyes roam over the darkened room as Zhali makes quick work of building a small fire and setting a pot of water over to warm. His own eyes stray from the fire to recall what state his kelku has been left in. Luckily, he has always had a knack for organization and creating a cozy environment in his home. Still, there is no saying what a Sky Person considers to be cozy when it comes to decor. He prays to Eywa that Spider’s preferences are not aligned with that of the suffocating and hard steel in the human outpost. 

“Thank you.” 

Spider tries to hide the wince that graces his features when he rolls his shoulder, but even in the dim glow of a fire, Zhali can clearly see the distress.

“Come. You are bleeding.” He motions Spider forward and luckily the boy does not protest.

Spider does, however, hesitate as those hazel eyes scan over the empty span thoughtfully. Zhali starts to think something is wrong but then it dawns on him. The boy’s body is speckled with mud and blood. Spider seems all too aware of this as he carefully squats over the clean woven floor. 

Of course this must be just Spider’s way of trying to be a polite guest while in his home, but it frustrates Zhali more than he expects. The beautiful human squats over the woven material as if he is unworthy to touch it. This behavior extends to all aspects of their encounter in the space as Spider is more than cautious to let himself enjoy any of the comforting ambience that Zhali has created in the space. He creeps into the area like an intruder, waiting to be shooed away. 

And it breaks Zhali’s heart. It shatters him to pieces to think that Spider would ever act in such a way when his presence alone is something to be celebrated. It’s borderline disappointing to think that Zhali has spent all this time over the past few weeks slowly preparing his kelku to become a welcoming place that Spider would be enticed to call his own someday, just for the boy to shy away from associating with it. 

“Sit.” Zhali puts a little more intensity behind the words than intended. He mentally curses at himself when Spider flinches in response but the human is already setting himself down gently. 

“The bleeding isn’t that bad.” Spider claims, but how would he know when the injury stretches across his right shoulder blade? 

Zhali goes to see for himself, reaching his enormously large hands towards the small creature, but then he pauses. 

“May I check?”

He idly notices that Spider’s breathing is no longer fogging up the glass of his mask? Has he stopped breathing? Was there something wrong with it? Oh Eywa, how does one fix that little thing if there is?

“Yeah.” 

The response is more of a puff of air than real words. Zhali allows himself to breathe now. 

Settling behind Spider feels natural and oddly comforting. He enjoys the way his body is haunched over the small blonde, as if he could create a Na’vi shield over the boy if any danger were to arise. The idea strokes his male pride for a moment until he remembers that he failed to shield Spider earlier. When…when he…

“How did this happen?”

“Well it was….you see….” Spider struggles before finally sagging with a sigh. “I fell.” Defeat is apparent in his tone. 

Zhali can not decide if he finds this explanation better or worse than the images he had conjured up. The thought of thanator claws scraping at the small being was terrifying, but then again, is it not more concerning to see that a simple fall is all it takes to injure him? This beautiful tawtute truly is so fragile. A simple misstep is all it would take to put him in danger. 

Spider appears to be thinking the same thing, but if the red cheeks and deep frown are anything to go by, it’s embarrassment rather than fear that rises to the surface. 

“Tawtute, this cut is deep. From how high did you tumble?” He tries his best to clean the cut with the rag as gently as possible, monitoring every flinch and shudder that ripples through Spider. 

“My bow got stuck up in the canopy. Thought I could get it down.” 

“It is still there?”

Spider nods.

“We will get it in the morning.” Zhali concludes smoothly as he dips the soft cloth back into the now warmed water. He checks it against his own skin first. The male may not know much about human anatomy but it’s clear that their response to the elements is more dramatic than his own. He would hate to accidentally expose the boy to any more harsh temperatures for the night. Once it is sufficiently clear that the rag is at a soothingly warm degree, he begins to glide it over Spider’s back. 

“Thanks I uh…I was kind of clumsy I guess. You don’t have to come with me in the morning though, I’m sure I can manage a bit better this time.” Spider rambles.

“I will not if you wish not for my company.” 

“No no, it’s not that.” Zhali peeks around the boy’s shoulder easily, braids swinging down as he openly observes the male’s expression. Spider’s turn a brighter shade of pink. Zhali finds he quite likes that shade. “Of course I would love for you to come. I just uh don’t want to make you go out of your way for me.” 

“You are never out of the way, Spider.” He sighs, tail curling in irritation. He shouldn’t need to make that clear, especially after efforts he has started towards his courtship. “You are the way.” 

He surveys the boy’s expression, but without twitching ears and a moving tail to give him away, it feels impossible to sense the shift in emotion there. He slowly retreats, not wanting to scare him off any more with the staring, but he lingers just long enough to see Spider catch his bottom lip between those blunt teeth. It’s a cute habit that Zhali has noticed from him, but one that he is still trying to understand fully. 

It’s obvious what his own response to the action is as his tewng grows uncomfortable, but that does little to help him decode Spider. Not to mention it makes him feel like an untrained teenager all over again, drooling at just about anything. 

“Spider.” 

He feels the boy straighten underneath his hands.

“Yeah?”

“What is your favorite color?” 

“What?”

Zhali is pleased to find that the area around the wound is finally clean and ready for bandaging. 

“Color. What is your favorite color?” He repeats. Spider only flinches slightly as he begins to lay the leaves covered in ointment over the small wound. He has to rip them into small pieces a few times so they don’t cover the whole expanse of Spider’s back. Doing so, however, draws his attention to the rest of the boy’s muddied and artificially stripped skin. Long fingers itch to reach for the warm rag again. 

“I um…I don’t know. Never really thought about it before.” 

Zhali’s eyebrows knit together. He is soon regretting his decision to sit behind the tawtute where he can’t even depend on the minor fluctuations of his small facial expressions for context. His tail thumps against the woven floor incidentally, but at least Spider can’t see that. When the urge becomes too strong, Zhali hesitantly starts running the warm cloth over the rest of Spider’s back.

“What do you say when people ask?” He takes Spider’s lack of flinching as a token of permission, scrubbing the dirt away from his tan skin with the gentlest touch he can muster. It’s interesting to see the way his skin turns a light pink after only a few strokes of the warm rag. It appears that Sky People’s skin is extremely sensitive and expressive to every substance it comes in contact with. He is pleased however to see that Spider’s muscles have begun to relax underneath each stroke and the shaking of his body has puttered out to a small vibration. 

“Well I don’t think anyone has ever asked me before to be honest.” Spider tries to slip in a small laugh but it’s strained. Those tiny four fingered hands come to gather his dreads and push them to the side before fondling them absently. 

Of course he knows that Lo’ak didn’t know the boy’s favorite color but for no one to ask? Never? By Eywa, what do the strange scientists at the lab that supposedly raised this male talk to him about? The negligence is infuriating and yet Zhali knows he shouldn’t be surprised. From the interactions he has seen between them, Norm acts more like a close friend than anything resembling a parental figure.

Spider pauses, head tilted as he ponders the question.

“I suppose red is not a bad one. Like the red from sunsets.”

Zhali’s lips turn down.

“Not green.” Disappointment lays heavy in his stomach, He should’ve known better than to trust Lo’ak as his source of information. 

“Green? Oh you mean cause of the loincloth. It doesn’t really-” Spider cuts himself off, turning silent as he looks down. 

Zhali’s ear perk forehead, wondering if he has somehow missed the end of that sentence. 

“Shit.” Spider whispers to himself. 

Peering over the boy’s golden dreads, Zhali finally finds the source of Spider’s silence. A jagged rip through the side of the loincloth. 

“Fuck I- Damnit, I didn’t realize and now….” Spider hunches forward inspecting it frantically.  “I’ve ruined it. All for my stupid fucking bow.” He grits out. “You worked so hard on it and I-”Spider gulps, voice heavy with emotion. 

“I will make another one.” 

“No no, you shouldn’t have to…..I-I’m sorry.” 

Zhali catches sight of glimmering tears welding over the boy’s eyes, ones that he refuses to shed. His heartbeat picks up more erratically when Spider allows his dreads to form a curtain over his face. 

“Spider, it is fine. I will make a new one. This time red.” As it should have been from the beginning. This would be his chance to redeem himself and give Spider the courting gift he truly deserved. Hesitantly he reaches out to sweep that golden hair away but Spider reels back. 

“Another one? N-no I cant ask that. It’s my fault I ruined it…it was…”

“The wrong color. I understand, tawtute.”

“No no no it….it was fucking perfect.” Spider sniffles and more than anything Zhali wishes he could see the boy properly, get that damn mask out of the way so he could wipe away the tears. “The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” It’s whispered so soft and reverant that the Na’vi almost questions whether or not he heard it properly. 

It would be easier not to believe it.

Easier to believe that there were greater gestures the boy has received over the years than some simple pieces of clothing. 

Zhali shifts  forward, boldly sweeping the hair away so he can clearly see Spider’s sparkling eyes. 

“You deserve so much more than this.” He can see the boy’s lungs still with air. “So much more than a courting gift in the wrong color. More than a simple garment that pales in comparison to your beauty.” Spider’s blunt teeth naw at those soft pink lips. “More than jewels and bracelets. More than all the beauties of Pandora combined.” 

It’s as if the boy is frozen in time, air no longer passing through those lips. It’s borderline impossible to understand if this is a good or bad sign, but the truth is bursting from the seams, no longer willing to be kept prisoner. 

“You deserve a mate that will care for you. One that truly sees you.” Zhali catches a golden strand, tucking it behind Spider’s ear. Oh how he wishes to bury his face in that hair, to fully let the beautiful tawtute’s scent to sink in. 

His stomach twists into a bundle of knots but the words come regardless. 

“I see you, Spider.” 

Silence stretches between them but Spider’s eyes remain trained on him, pupils blown wide and breath stilled. A new form of anxiety settles itself as the seconds pass without a clear breath coming from him. 

“You do not have to say anything. I have only begun courting you after all. I simply thought you should kno-” 

Spiders cuts him off with a shake of his head, breath finally exhaled. Nothing, however, matches the horror Zhali feels as the boy reaches to lift his mask. 

“No Spider-” He catches his wrist.

“It’s ok.” Spider gently pries the hand from his wrist before taking a deep breath in. 

The mask is carefully slipped from his face but Spider gives him a reassuring smile when he spots the concern written over Zhali’s face. And then, the space between them decreases slowly, the boy’s face inching closer to his own until their noses brush. Those big doe eyes flicker between his own heated gaze and lips.

The first point of contact is hesitant and slow, but there is a certain tenderness to that gentle swipe of lips. Spider’s lips are so much smaller than his own, but ever so soft. So many moments have led to this one but his heart continues to race, ever so worried about hurting the small tawtute. 

It is Spider, however, that pushes it forward, small tongue swiping at his bottom lip. Zhali allows him. He gives the boy of his dreams access, gives him the world because there is nothing else he can manage to do, not when his wildest fantasies are coming true. Leisurely they each explore one another and melt into the kiss. 

He cups Spider face tenderly, hands easily covering each side of his head. He even allows his fingers to softly explore through the sunshine mane. Spider’s hands are more cautious, but every area they trace over has Zhali’s tail swinging back and forth exuberantly. 

In some ways this kiss is nothing in comparison to the other sexual rendezvous Zhali has experienced and yet it feels more intimate. Like finally having access to a beautiful masterpiece kept behind glass for so long. Finally getting to cherish Spider’s beautiful face instead of observing from a distance. 

At the first jerk of Spider’s chest, Zhali sternly repositions the mask over his face. His emotions swirl from pure elation to trepidation as he waits to hear that first breath. 

Spider lets out a small gasp for air, cheeks tinting as his chest expands and caves rapidly. Hands on the boy’s thighs, Zhali leans forward, eyes darting across the mysterious mask to make sure it is working properly. 

“Can you breathe?” He reaches forward to mess with the contraption, not that he has any idea how but he can’t help himself. 

“Yeah yeah…I can.” Spider lets out an airy laugh. “Well, mostly.” 

Zhali’s frown deepens urgency increasing but then he notices that dazed smile over the boy’s face. The giddy look in his eyes as that beautiful blush paints his cheeks once more. 

“It’s ok It’s ok.” Spider laughs, small hands prying Zhalil’s own off the mask. “I’m alright. Just a little overwhelmed.” 

“You promise, sevin?” Zhali sweetly pushes a few dreads away from Spider’s face, eyes studying him intently. 

Once again Zhali watches in awe as that tan skin quickly shifts to a darker shade of red, even traveling over Spider’s collarbones and chest. He follows that blossom of color downwards, eyes caught on the boy’s small nipples now perked in the cool air. He doesn’t try to hide the ogling, not now that the truth is out. 

“Y-yes.” Spider stutters.

“Good.” He breathes out, but his hands are already gliding over the soft skin of Spider’s sides. He takes in every reaction like a gift. The way the tawtute shivers when his ribcage is brushed, the way that blush only intensifies with Zhali’s darkening gaze, the way his nipples pebble under his long fingers as if they are aching to be touched. 

For so long Spider has been forbidden fruit. For even longer Zhali has dreamed of how this beautiful creature would feel in his hands, the sounds he could draw from him. Sitting here feels like a dream, one beyond his wildest imagination when a small groan escapes Spider. 

One hand dares to grip the boy’s left hip while the other swirls over one hardening nipple. Without a tail or ears it can be hard to read Spider but even Zhali can recognize the restraint his beautiful tawtute exhibits as his hips twitch and chest heaves. 

Spider’s eyes stray away from the intimate points of contact when Zhali leans forward to rest his temple against his. Breath fogs up the glass. 

“Spider”

“Yes?” He whispers. 

“Let me take care of you.” 

Spider’s thick lashes flutter rapidly as he visibly gulps. 

“But I….w-why?” He stutters, as if unable to process the concept. 

“Because you deserve it, sevin.” He squeezes his hip gently as Spider stares at him with big hazel eyes. A color that he could easily get lost in. Ones that goes greatly with Spider’s now swollen pink lips. 

He has never been so desperate to please such a beautiful being. 

“Let me make you feel good, yawne.” Spider’s eyes flutter closed when the Na’vi rakes his longer fingers through his hair. “Please, yawntutsyip.” 

Spider melts in the touch, letting the Na’vi cradle the back of his head. 

“Let me show you how I’d take care of you if you’d be mine.” His softly scratches along his scalp, delighting in the way Spider’s small form goes slack. 

A new spice intertwines with Spider’s scent, filling Zhali’s lungs until it has become his own personal drug. 

“Sevin?”

“Y-yes yes, ok yeah I-I…yes.” Spider exhales, words tumbling together. 

Zhali grins.

Spider is sure he’s hallucinating. So sure that somewhere in that fall he hit his head a little too hard and now suffers from delusions. It’s the only explanation he has to explain how this god of a Na’vi has decided to please him. The only way he can comprehend not only being allowed in his kelku but furthermore have those sharp teeth tracing over his abs. 

Looking down at the male who kisses and nips at his body like it’s art made just for him, Spider is content to let this hallucination continue. He will spend the rest of his life in this dream if it means staying cradled in his arms, if it means feeling that hot tongue explore his body intimately. 

True intimacy can be hard to come by for Spider.

Kiri tries and Jake will occasionally ruffle his hair but it does little to satiate what he really needs. Now, however, seems to be the worst time to realize how touch starved he is. It’s embarrassing how difficult it is to keep himself from squirming or God forbid even bucking up into every touch and kiss. 

It’s worse than being a teenager in his hammock trying to get himself off. At least then he was in the privacy of his own company but Zhali’s touch is like lightning in comparison to his own. His hands are so much larger that when the Na’vi goes to cup his head or slink down his chest, it covers the expanse easily. 

It’s when Zhali pushes him down with a hand to his chest that Spider realizes he might be into their size difference more than he anticipated. 

Neck craning to watch Zhali litter kisses along his lower abdomen, he burns in mortification when he spots his own boner through the green loincloth. He wants to believe that Zhali has not noticed this before but even he knows that Na’vi have greatly enhanced senses. 

Fuck, he most likely already can smell his arousal, let alone see it. 

His blunt teeth sink into his bottom lip harder as he holds back the jumble of moans that threaten to break loose. 

It’s pathetic. 

Already in adulthood and yet all it takes for him to rut like a hormonal teenager are a few well placed kisses and bites. 

Open mouthed kisses are meticulously placed along his v line until he has reached his right hip. Something sharp draws along his skin and Spider sees the  Na’vi’s teeth bared. Their eyes connect for a moment and it appears to be all the confirmation that Zhali requires before he takes the plush flesh into his mouth and sucks hard. 

A shocked cry falls from Spider’s lips as his back arches. 

Pain and pleasure dance together in symphony when those impressive teeth come into play. What has his legs shaking, however, is the knowledge that it will leave a mark. Even humans know what such a display means.

A marking to show he is being courted.

A marking to show that he is wanted and desired by a male prospect. 

“Am I hurting you, sevin?”

It takes a moment for the words to register.

“Wh- oh no no. You’re not.” 

“Hm, good.” Looking up through his lashes Zhali keeps their gazes pinned as he lays a tender kiss over the new mark. Those lips skate over his skin until reaching the intricate ties of his loincloth. 

Hands holding the male’s thighs apart, Zhali carefully secures a tie between his teeth and begins to pull. Watching that knot unravel feels like the longest seconds of Spider’s life. He isn’t sure if he needs it to speed up or slow down because his brain can hardly process what is to come. 

It isn’t his first time being bare before a Na’vi. Admittedly, other Na’vi, even among the Metkayina have had their curiosity sparked by Spider. Some shuffled him away with a rushed exploration and desperate touching that became all the sex life Spider had ever known. However, those had only left him unsatisfied and lonely again at the end of the night. 

This is different, however. 

Zhali, although curious, doesn’t explore him for his own pleasure but rather Spider’s.

He takes in every new discovery and change like a masterpiece meant to be worshiped. He watches for the slightest flinch to signal a change and the smallest twitches of pleasure to indicate what spikes the boy’s pleasure. 

And when the silky loincloth falls away, the same one that Zhali had spent weeks carefully crafting especially for him, he doesn’t rush to grip or stroke. His heated gaze is the first thing to caress him, and then his voice.

“So magnificent, my tawtute.”

Spider can already feel himself trembling. This new emotion bubbling forward does not make it easier to gather restraint, to stop himself from appearing like a desperate lonely fool in front of this gorgeous man. 

Zhali kisses right next to the base and Spider forces himself to look away. 

This gentle worship does things to him that he could never have imagined and therefore could never have prepared for. He can’t watch this any longer without losing the reins. 

He can feel himself twitch as soft kisses are placed one by one around the base until every inch has been covered. Toes curling, Spider attempts to slow down his heartbeat. 

“Spider”

“Huh?”

He peaks to find Zhali looking up at him, large golden orbs taking in every flinch in his expression. 

“I am not hurting you?” He checks again.

“No no, of course not.” Spider chokes out, ears growing hot at the tremor in his voice. 

“Hm, I see.” He hums before his fingertips start drawing soft patterns over his hips. “You are tense, sevin.” 

His stomach flips.

“Fuck, yeah I know, I-I’m sorry. I understand if-”

Zhali hushes him sweetly, crawling forward to cup his face once more. 

“Spider,” His name from Zhali’s lips sounds like a song. “Do you want this?”

He doesn’t enjoy how fast he is nodding his head.

“Yes. I do, shit yeah I do. I’ll keep it together, I'm sorry.”

Zhali is shaking his head before he can even finish the sentence. 

“Sevin, do not apologize.” Zhali’s slim tail wraps itself around his calf and Spider has to hide the tremor along his lips. “I only need one thing from you.”

Spider gulps, leaning forward and ready to take the criticism. 

“I need you to relax.”

Spider flushes, fighting back the urge to gulp down the knot in his throat. 

“Yeah o-okay.”

Zhali is less than convinced but a warm smile crosses his lips. His fingers intertwine with the boy’s hair once more before he is raking them through those golden locks. The reaction is immediate, pleasurable shivers dissipating through Spider’s body. 

Never before had he realized how sensitive he is to this gesture but now with those gentle movements massaging his scalp, Spider feels like he could melt into molten gold. Zhali runs his face along the curve of his neck, marking him with his scent. 

The hand in his hair is used to tilt Spider’s head back and give him better access. A breath wooshes from the boy’s lungs. 

“Just focus on what you feel, sevin.” 

Soft lips lay a kiss behind his ear. 

“What feels good,” Zhali continues. 

Another kiss, this time to his pulse point. 

“What feels different.” 

Zhali’s textured tongue drags along his skin languidly. Spider hardly registers his own groan as he lets his weight fall into the Na’vi embrace. 

“What you want more of.” 

When the male begins sucking a hickey into the side of his neck, Spider can no longer keep a cap on his noises. A string of whines and moans fall from his lips as he finds rest in the moment. Eyes closed and mouth agape, he forgets where he is.

He forgets who he is. 

He forgets who he is not.

And Spider lets each exhilarating sensation guide his decisions. 

“Good boy.” Zhali whispers warmly against his pulse, licking over the mark to soothe. 

His hands firmly run down Spider’s sides, squeezing it greedily until his presence can not be forgotten. Taking control of every curve and line, Zhali plays him like an instrument. Spider lays back against the matt, golden hair creating a crown around him. Hazel eyes dilate before fluttering closed when soft kisses are left along his inner thighs. 

Sounds erupt from him that Spider doesn’t recognize when Zhali’s tongue begins exploring his length. His body buzzes with a new energy, nerves a lit with every swoop and swirl of that talented tongue. 

And even though his hips twitch in silent request for more, Spiders swears that he could live in the moment forever. 

“Such beautiful sounds, oeyä tawtute.” 

The compliment floods his cheeks and tugs at his chest. There is no longer room for self doubt as praises fall freely between the beautiful exploration of Zhali’s mouth. Every concern is hushed before it can fully bloom. 

“You taste so good, sevin. Don’t know how I went without you for so long.”

And then warmth encases his member in a rush. Zhali sucks his cock with such enthusiasm and vigor that it becomes difficult to see which partner enjoys themselves more. 

But it’s him.

Spider is sure it is him. 

He knows that there is no other Na’vi or human out there that feels the things he is feeling, that reaches such heights of ecstasy and passion in one night. He can’t fathom anyone else knowing the warmth, pleasure, and relief that washes over him. 

Nose to the boy’s navel, Zhali swirls his tongue around the boy’s base, easily able to take all of Spider within the warm cavern of his mouth. Spider’s hands shoot down and grab the Na’vi’s tied hair without thought. His fingers grip and tug at the neat bun until strands start to fall loose. 

“Oh fuck!” He shouts, blunts nails digging into his scalp. 

Zhali pulls back until his lips are sealed around only the bulbous tip. The point of his tongue runs over the slit brashly and Spider yanks on his hair. The action is rewarded with a carnal moan, the vibrations rocketing through the boy. 

Zhali likes to watch. Spider can feel those eyes trained on him without reprieve, no matter which way he squirms and bucks. At some point he feels strong hands pin his hips to the ground, forcing him to take the pleasure in its entirety. 

Spider isn’t used to the attention.

He isn’t used to the way Zhali mentally tracks his reactions and the actions associated with them. 

He isn’t used to the honey eyes drinking in the sight of him. 

But most of all, he isn’t used to being the center of attention.

It breaks him into a thousand pieces. 

His climax crashes so hard into him that his small hands search for something to ground him. They circle around Zhali’s kuru tugging as he spills into the male’s mouth. 

The sound that erupts from Zhali is unlike anything Spider has ever heard from him. So far from the polite, organized and formal male that he has known. It rings forth with a raspy texture and a deep serenade that sets his world on fire. 

Not a drop is wasted and Zhali doesn’t release his twitching length until Spider is pushing back his head. 

He falls limp against the mat, bowl pupils staring up at the world in a daze. He can briefly sense the careful precision Zhali takes to kiss every mark before running a warm cloth over him but it’s background noise to the symphony playing in his head. 

“Thank you, sevin.” 

That deep voice now with a raspy tint weaves into his consciousness as Spider revels in the tingling aftershock running through his body. He can only manage a lazy smile when Zhali comes up to check on him. 

“Just give me….give one minute and then I….I can help.” He manages to get out between pants. Zhali’s brows furrow until he sees the boy eyeing his tented loincloth. 

“You have done more than help today, tawtute. Given me more than I could have asked for.” And he grins so sincerely that Spider can’t fathom how the male could feel this way. In every sexual interaction he has had, there was always a return of the favor, that is assuming Spider finished in the first place. But Zhali looks at him like he hung the moon, eyes glimmering in delight as he wipes him down with a warm cloth.

“You…you don’t want me to touch you?” 

Zhali traces idle lines over Spider abs happily. 

“Of course I do, but how would that serve the proper purpose? I am courting you.” Zhali stands and begins preparing the hammock for them. He arranges extra pillows and blankets that Spider has never seen other Na’vi have before. In fact, there is a great deal of influence from Sky People culture present in the male’s kelku. Things that only a human would find necessary. 

Before he can protest, Spider is carried carefully to the hammock and laid across the Na’vi chest. He tucks a blanket around the boy’s hips, making sure it isn’t too tight but still brings the wet tawtute some warmth. 

“Although, I admit. This is out of order. It was supposed to be step twelve but do not worry. I will make sure not to skip over any. Fourteen steps to go.” He nods firmly, lips perking upwards.  

Spider’s brain sputters, head still fuzzy from the best orgasm of his life. Tonight feels like a dream, an absolute horny amazing romantic dream that his subconscious has whipped up. He can barely process the night’s turn of events, let alone this handsome male wanting to go through an extensive courting process all for him. 

“Fourteen? You….but…that is so much.” 

Zhali’s hairless brows furrow. 

“It’s hardly enough, sevin. It’s important that you have enough proof of my ability to provide, protect, and love before you make your choice. So you can weigh your options.” 

As if he has other options.

Who would surpass this?

Who has ever even tried?

Zhali continues to run his fingers through the human’s hair as he sighs happily, watching as Spider shifts closer. 

“I do not expect an answer now, sevin. But hopefully tonight is a start to convincing you.”

Rain pelting down on the kelku and wrapped in this amazing man’s arms, Spider’s eyes fill with tears again. 

To call it convincing would be an understatement. 

Thanks for reading. As always, I truly appreciate hearing your thoughts. It motivates me to write and update more. Love you all<3

Taglist: @tallulah477 @eywaite @itchaboi-itchyboy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang

[bitchimasnake-sss]

what do you think about a little bit of angst with op boys traveling in the time to the past (bcs a enemy fruit power or something) and they interactions with their s/o that is dead in the future? hehe just wondering

omg i love this so much. i suck at writing angst but ill try!! a/n: ill be posting three different fics for all three! (i'll add link at the end once the other two are up too!); not proofread! zoro's part sani's part

nine years ft. monkey d luffy!

luffy outstretched his arms, stifling a yawn. peering through blurry gaze, he tried to sit up. his head felt like it was going to split apart. the headache ravaged the back of his head and he tried to focus his gaze on the people in front of him.

"oi?" a young, sorta squeaky voice called out to him, "who are you?"

"who are you? and why do you look familiar?" another voice asked.

"let him atleast come to his senses." a young woman yelled at the two boys and luffy blinked twice as to take in the scene in front of him. her red hair shone under the sun, catching sunlight that reflected her fiery temperament.

"nami? is that you?" the older man's voice was gruff. he sat up and looked around as if observing the deck of the sunny for the first time.

the red-head was alarmed. with eyes widening, she asked, "is it actually you? luffy?"

"that's not me!!" the younger version quipped up, pouting when he stared at the older version, "i don't look like that."

"what do you mean? i think he's good-looking" another voice kissed the old captain's ears.

"yn?" the older version looked over to your voice.

"yn?" his eyes were frantic, as if taking all of as soon as he could. he sat up so fast, he almost could feel metal on his tongue, he could almost faint again.

but none of that mattered.

his fingers outstretched as if to feel your skin against his palm, as if to reassure himself that you were there.

"hey?" you seemed to chuckle awkwardly, backing off slightly at his sudden intrusion, "do i know you?"

there you were. there was his girl.

alive.

this wasn't one of those dreams that felt realer than life. you were there. so close, he could almost touch you and hold you and sob into you.

except you were nineteen again.

"hey, old man" zoro piped up, threatening the older man with a glare, "do we know you?"

"it's me" his throat was parched and it hurt to speak, "it's luffy."

"no, im luffy, you old man!!" the younger version piped up again, pouting even more now.

that interaction was three days ago and in the meantime, the crew and older version of their captain had both come to accept the strangeness of the situation. it was surreal, seeing his crew-mates young. to see them so full of dreams, their bodies barely beaten and bruised. it was surreal to see them so tiny, so inexperienced to what was about to come.

it was surreal to see you again.

you were nineteen. it would take two years before you and his younger version would get together. it would take seven more years till he asked you to marry him. it would take nine more years till he lost you.

but right now you were nineteen and when you smiled, the sun caught onto your skin, painting you in a golden shade. right now, you still snickered when you found something funny, the laugh sort of airy and hearty. right now, you still offered him a portion of your food as if you didn't want it. right now, the younger version of him didn't even know he loved you.

a part of him wanted to go yell at his younger version. hold him by the collar and threaten him to keep you safe. but all of that would be of no use.

the fates were cruel.

the deck was slightly chilly in the night air and you sat next to him. the aged captain didn't ignore the way you restlessly moved your legs. and he held back from putting his hand on your knee to calm you down.

"so..." you started and he knew that tone too well. you were gonna ask him something meekly, as in unsure if you wanna know the answer. you faced him, "what is future like? do you become the future king of pirates? is the crew together?"

"ah" luffy laughed, hiding this sting you sweet voice inflicted on him, "yes, the crew is still together. we even had some new members."

"really?" you beamed, "and me and you? are we still friends?"

"i-" he snuck in a breath and laughed again, hoping it would ease the pain in his voice, "ofcourse we are. we are the closest of friends. we will always be, till the end of time."

"no way! we're closer than you're with zoro?" your expression turned smug, "ha! i knew it. i am way way funnier than zoro."

luffy just nodded, finding an invisible rope round his throat as he looked at you. he was afraid as if one wrong word and he'd jinx everything, he'd be back in his solemn reality.

you spoke again, "i must say, did growing up make you less energetic? you're so quite luffy." then you corrected yourself, "ah, i mean like ofcourse growing up must make you less energet-"

"yn," luffy cut you off, "i love you"

your eyes widened comically, air stuck in your throat, "huh??"

"as a friend." he smiled at your confused figure, "i thought i should let you know while i was here."

"oh" a blush crept up your face, spreading till your ears, "i mean- i love you too- as a friend ofcourse!"

"i'm glad." luffy gave you a soft smile. his heart ached when you return back the smile with no hesitancy, "i'm glad i got to know you."

then you looked away from the older man and luffy knew it meant you were blushing even more furiously. then through a meek whisper you said, "you're being so sappy. stop it-"

"DINNER'S READY!" the young chef's voice boomed, snapping you two out of the conversation. the aged captain involuntarily jumped up at the name of dinner.

"glad to see you are the same about food still." he looked down at you, laughing. and he laughed with you.

he laughed because he knew in every timeline, he still had those nine years with you.

and he'd love you through them over and over again.