#people in old times would not have understood having great friends who you can connect with really well but have never been in a room with

[chloelouygo]

Trying hard in therapy so I can fix myself to make my therapist proud 🫡

#he's the absolute SWEETEST #gutted i can only get a course of 6 sessions with him :( #but I'll try super hard over these few months to get better!! #i told him i did cross stitch and he went🥹 i love needlepoint!! and i was like ooh i have needlepoint horses on my wall!! and he was like😍 #entirely too precious ;o; #i don't tend to babble when i talk unless i connect with the person or subject I'm talking with or about #and i find myself rambling when i talk to him #which honestly im often really awkward and quiet to speak with #so he must be good if he can get me rambling lmao #it's really weird to have therapy over the phone though because like #aside from being a pasty irishman in his early 30s-ish #i have no idea what he looks like?? #and like it's odd to spend a while talking but to not see tuem #i used to do weekly phone calls to lonely older people #and i spoke to 4 people over my years volunteering #i spoke to lesley for nearly 3 years #do i know whqt she looks like? #not a clue #we weren't allowed to email or know last names or anything so i have no idea what amy of my lovely old friends looked like #and it's so weird how some really important people in my life (you reading this included most likely) #are people who ive not actually seen #idk how whimsical is that #people in old times would not have understood having great friends who you can connect with really well but have never been in a room with #i be monologuing sorryyyy #ily

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

The Bond

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Relationship: Neteyam x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

Summary: The bond is a beautiful thing, but it’s also the most painful thing you ever experienced.

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids). Major character death. Angst. Pregnancy. ATWOW spoilers.

Comments: Hockey people look away, look away… After watching ATWOW I physically could not stop thinking about ‘what if you could feel the bond’ the way Parabatai feel each other in the Mortal Instruments and one thing led to another… This really was supposed to just be a short little imagine just to get the idea out of my head so I could work on my other projects but then I went hmmm no I think this needs some context for it to make sense and then I proceeded to write their entire fucking story cradle to grave and spent WAY too much time fact checking every single detail… There were a bunch of ways I could have expanded this, but I told myself no because no one needs a 50k+ Neteyam story... Also, this was not betad because I was not about to subject my poor beta to my current Avatar obsession.

Disclaimer: I thought Neteyam was 20 the whole movie so that’s how old he is in this, which is about the same age Jake and Neytiri were in the first film. And also, Neteyam wears a battle belt, which means he is seen as a man among the Omatikaya.

do not repost, do not claim as your own

Tsaheylu.

The bond.

The beginning and the end of everything.

You feel their breath, you feel their heart, you feel their strength. It’s your way to connect with the world around you. At least, that’s what they always told you.

It’s a beautiful thing the bond. You can ride and fly and see and hear without uttering a single word. And most beautiful of all, you get to feel your mate, if you were lucky enough to find one.

With a mate, it wasn’t just their breaths and heart you felt like a horse or an ikran. It was deeper, much deeper. You felt them. Their thoughts, their memories, the every ounce of their being. The bond ties you to them—to their soul—for life, connects you to them in a way you’d never be connected to anyone or anything for as long as you lived.

It’s a beautiful thing the bond.

--

You could remember the first time Neteyam brought up the possibility of mating.

The golden son, the next Olo’eykton, the first-born son of Toruk Makto and Neytiri, Neteyam always had big shoes to fill, and it was always something he struggled with in silence. Who was he to talk to about the shade of greatness he grew up in? His father? His mother? His little brother? None of them understood, and none of them saw him.

But you did.

For as long as you could remember, Neteyam had been your closest friend, and you his—outside of his siblings at least. Kiri wasn’t much younger than him, but she had always been closer with Lo’ak than him, and Neteyam had always had more of a protective, fatherly role than a brotherly one with them and Tuk especially.

But you? You held no expectations for him. With you he was just Neteyam—or ’Teyam when he made you laugh hard enough you could barely breathe. You did everything with him. Training, hunting, claiming a banshee. Every step, you were there, and there was no one you felt closer to than him.

You didn’t have a big family like he did, it was only you. But you had him. He was your best friend, your everything, your—

Neteyam was going to be the next Olo’eykton and whoever he took as his mate would be the next Tsahìk, so you knew it wasn’t a decision he took lightly. If his father wasn’t Jake Sully, you were sure he’d have been betrothed to a woman his parents deemed worthy of being the next Olo’eykton’s mate. You didn’t know if Eywa had her eyes on you at the decision not to betroth him because, on one hand, there was a chance he’d take you, but on the other, you knew him choosing another of his own will would break you irreversibly.

Neteyam had shown some interest in the other girls in the village, especially the ones his mother mentioned to him, but you never saw him have more than a few conversations with them, mostly about hunting, which they didn’t seem to appreciate as much as you did.

You didn’t know that they were never the one he wanted. That for him, there had only ever been one.

It was the eve of his iknimaya ceremony, the final step of him becoming taronyu, of becoming a man, that he first brought up the possibility of mating with you. Once he became a man, he could choose a woman.

The thought alone made your chest tight. You couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in your tent before you finally resigned yourself and slipped out. A night walk in the forest would, at the very least, keep your mind occupied.

You should have known Neteyam had the same idea.

Becoming a hunter, becoming a man, becoming one of the People, and earning his place in the clan all weighed heavily on him. He lived in the shadow of his father who had gone from Sky People to one of the People to Toruk Makto to Olo’eykton in a span of a few months. He was only the sixth Toruk Makto since the first songs and Neteyam knew that even if he were to be a great Olo’eykton, he’d never be his father, and it ate at him.

No matter how hard he tried, Neteyam couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned but his mind fought his every attempt at sleep. He knew he needed sleep for the day ahead, but he wasn’t granted peace and finally he resigned himself to a walk to clear his mind. At the very least, the night would pass more quickly and bring him into tomorrow.

Neither of you realized the other was close, not at first. Your mind was so consumed by the thought of him that you weren’t looking where you were going and didn’t put the care into your steps like you knew you should. The snap of the twig under your step was secondary to you, but it made Neteyam’s ears twitch.

He wasn’t alone.

A moment later, another twig snapped under your foot and Neteyam let it consume his attention. All he had on him was his knife, but it would have to do, he was the best hunter of his age after all.

He followed your uncaring, twig breaking steps silently with his knife down, unsure of what he was following. But as soon as he caught a flash of blue skin in the dark, he let himself relax a little. When he stepped a little closer to get a clearer view, he sheathed his knife as he let out a soft laugh. He’d know you anywhere.

The sound of his laugh made your ears twitch and you tensed. You’d know that sound anywhere. “Neteyam?” You breathed as you turned around and a moment later, he revealed himself with his hands up and a playful smile on his lips as he said your name back to you.

“It is late,” he told you as he stepped closer, his tail flicking behind him. “You should be asleep.”

“As should you,” you replied and returned his smile. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ah,” he brushed you off with a short wave of his hand. “I’ll be fine,” he told you. “I do not have to hunt tomorrow, just become taronyu.”

Your smile slipped for half a moment before you pushed it back up. “I know,” you replied, hoping your tone didn’t betray you.

His ears straightened as he watched you and he hoped, oh Eywa he hoped, that he wasn’t misinterpreting your hesitation as he stepped closer to you. “Once I become taronyu, I may take a woman.”

You couldn’t hide the disappointment in your eyes so you turned away from him. “I know,” you whispered. “It’s a big day for the clan. There are many fine women to choose from.”

His heart dropped, fearing rejection from the only woman he had ever wanted. “I know,” he said and let his tail brush yours as he stepped around you, forcing you to look at him.

You shivered at the touch but brushed it off as an accidental touch. “Your father is very fond of Miayho, and your mother favours Zia,” you told him softly, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’ve already chosen.” His words made your heart drop and you tried to turn away from him again, but he cupped your cheek to stop you. “But this woman must also choose me.”

“She must be lucky,” you whispered, your heart aching.

“She is,” Neteyam smiled. “She is strong and beautiful and a little slow at times, but she is the only one I could ever want.”

“’Teyam,” you breathed, your voice breaking, but his smile never faltered.

“I’m speaking of you,” he told you and softly shook his head. “Tomorrow I am granted the chance to choose a woman, and you are the only woman I have ever wanted. I choose you, if you choose me, too.”

You were quiet as the weight of his words sunk in, but slowly you cupped his cheek, too. “I chose you the moment I saw you,” you replied and rubbed your thumb over the deep blue line that traced the arch of his cheek.

Neteyam’s smile filled your chest with warmth and you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. Neteyam’s smile softened as he rubbed his nose against yours. He’d mate you right here right now if you let him, but it was not the way, and a day was a short wait compared to the years he had already been waiting.

“So, it is decided, then?” He asked as he pulled back to look at you.

“It is,” you blushed and dipped your head as your ears went back, already itching to reach for your braid. At your words, Neteyam’s shoulders lightened, somewhat anyway. The weight of being the next Olo’eykton and living up to his father still plagued him, but he knew as long as he had you by his side, he’d be alright.

“We should sleep, then,” he told you and bit his lip. “I intent to mate you before Eywa tomorrow.”

Your blush darkened as you smiled. You didn’t dare ask if his mother or father approved of the match, you didn’t care, you just wanted him, needed him. “We should,” you agreed and tilted your chin up. “It is a big day tomorrow.”

Neteyam’s smile widened and he dipped his head. “A very big day,” he agreed and took your hand before he led you back to the village. The sooner you both fell asleep, the sooner tomorrow would come, and the sooner you could become one.

“You could stay with me,” you told him as you approached your tent.

There was nothing Neteyam wanted more, but he also knew his father would expect him in his own bed bright and early and he didn’t want to start the big day on the wrong foot. “Tomorrow night,” he replied and dipped his head. “Tonight will be our last night apart.”

You hated when he pulled his hand from yours, but you knew he was right, that it was the way. You had waited years for this, you could wait another night. “Tomorrow,” you nodded.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed you before he stepped back. Still, he watched as you slipped into your tent safe and secure before he made his way back to his own and prayed to Eywa his father hadn’t noticed his absence. Thankfully, he hadn’t, and Neteyam settled into his bed with a smile and warm chest.

Tomorrow he became taronyu.

Tomorrow he became a man.

Tomorrow he gained you. 

His eyelids were heavy and sleep came more easily to him. One moment he was thinking of your beautiful golden eyes, the next he was passed out, dreaming of your smile and the comforting flowery scent that always clung to your hair.

--

The sun woke him bright and early like it always did and he smiled as he stretched out.

Today was the day.

“Are you nervous?” Lo’ak asked him over breakfast and Neteyam rolled his eyes.

“Why would I be nervous?”

Lo’ak’s shit eating grin widened as he shoved his brother’s shoulder, “that no woman will want to mate with your ugly face.”

Any other day Neteyam would have told his brother off and shoved him back, but your words were still fresh in his mind—I chose you the moment I saw you—and his ears went back as he dipped his head.

Lo’ak’s smile faltered as he moved closer, his ears perking up before he knocked his shoulder against his brother’s. “Bro,” he said under his breath so their parents wouldn’t hear. “Got something you’d like to share?”

Neteyam knocked his shoulder right back against his brother’s. He was quiet for a moment as he debated whether he should say anything, but Neteyam knew his brother well, better than anyone, and he knew Lo’ak wouldn’t stop pestering him until he spilled. “I may have already chosen a woman,” he said with a small smile. “And she has chosen me as well. We will be mated before Eywa.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak breathed and put his hand on the back of Neteyam’s neck as he gave him a little shake. “You asked her?” Neteyam didn’t have to say a name for him to know he meant you.

Neteyam dropped his head again as he nodded, “it is decided.”

“I am surprised she settled for your skxawng ass, but I am happy for you, bro,” Lo’ak grinned, and he laughed as Neteyam bared his fangs at him and shook him off.

“Watch who you call skxawng, skxawng,” he replied, making Lo’ak laugh hard enough that their father looked over at them and their ears went back as they quickly went quiet.

Jake watched his sons for a long moment before he stepped over and sat down next to Neteyam and put his hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready, son?”

Neteyam smiled as he nodded, “born ready, sir.”

“Good,” Jake smiled and patted his son on the back. “Your mom has the paint, whenever you’re ready.”

Neteyam’s tail flicked behind him. “Actually, if it’s alright, there’s something else who I’d like to do the paint.”

For a moment Jake’s eyebrows raised as he looked at his son before the corner of his lip twitched up as he remembered when Neytiri painted him for his own iknimaya. “Of course,” Jake nodded. “But you have to tell your mother.”

His mother wasn’t exactly happy to give up the chance to paint her first born son ahead of the ceremony, but Neteyam rarely asked for anything and she could see in his eyes that it meant a great deal to him, so she resigned herself and handed the bowls of paint over to him. “I hope you chose well, my son,” Neytiri told him.

“I did,” Neteyam replied with a smile. “Thank you, mother.”

The bowls were full and despite their small size, they felt heavy in his hands as he headed out to find you. Neteyam knew both you and the village like the back of his hand so it was easy for him to find you. you blushed as he met your gaze and he smiled before he lowered his head to you and he sat down across from you.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” You asked him softly, buzzing with anticipation of what was to come.

“I should, yes,” he agreed and sat the bowls of paint down in front of you.

“Neteyam,” you breathed. It was traditionally done by mothers.

“I want you to,” he smiled. “That is, if you want to, too.”

You were quiet for a moment before you nodded. “I want to,” you smiled softly and moved the bowls closer to you, the weight of their significance not lost on you as you beckoned him closer. “Now?” You asked softly.

Neteyam nodded as he moved closer. You blushed when he ginned at you shoved his shoulder before dipping your fingers into the white paint. You started with his arm, your touch light as you traced familiar patterns over his skin. Neteyam shivered, both at the coolness of the paint and your touch and it made you blush deepen as you focused on your lines, not wanting to mess any of them up, especially when you felt the weight of his gaze on you.

After his arms, you moved on to his chest and you gave Neteyam a look when the corner of his lip twitched up. “I am well aware you are a mighty warrior, Neteyam,” you told him and pulled your fingers back so you wouldn’t ruin the lines.

“But now you feel that I am a mighty warrior,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes.

You were quiet for a moment as you tried to think of a reply. Slowly, you trailed your fingers down his abdomen and let your lip twitch up when you felt him tense at your touch. “I do,” you hummed and looked up at him. “And soon I will feel all of you.”

You bit your lip as Neteyam’s eyes darkened but you devoted your attention to finishing the lines on his abdomen before you picked up one of the bowls and moved to his back, giggling as Neteyam’s tail kept flicking as you traced the patterns on his skin and once you were done, you hesitated before pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck and giggled when his ears stood straight up.

“You are a tease, woman,” he breathed as you settled back in front of him to paint his face.

“Am not,” you replied with a smile as you dipped your fingers into the paint again. “Now stay still.” To his benefit, Neteyam was still as he watched you, his tail flicking every now and then as you traced careful lines over his face, finishing with a feather light touch over his lips.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you looked him over. “You are ready,” you told him as you sat back on your haunches.

“I am?” He asked and you nodded.

“You are.”

Neteyam knew kissing you would ruin the paint you worked so hard to get perfect, but he still thought about it and it took every ounce of his self control not to kiss you. “Thank you,” he smiled before he stood and your heart fluttered in your chest as you took him in.

Your best friend. Your lover. Your mate.

A man.

You took his hand when he extended it to you and let him lead you down to where the ceremony would take place. To no surprise, his parents, siblings, and grandmother were already there and when you met his mother’s gaze, you get go of his hand. You weren’t mates yet and this was his ceremony. A ceremony for the clan.

At the loss of your hand, Neteyam looked back at you but you gave him a reassuring smile as you encouraged him on with a nod so he returned his gaze to his parents. Slowly the rest of the clan emerged and began to form the circle around him, and you.

“Neteyam,” Jake started as he looked at his son, trying and failing to restrain his smile. “My son. You tamed an ikran and completed your dream hunt. You are one of the People now,” he said before putting his hands on Neteyam’s shoulders just like Eytukan had done to him many years before. Once Jake touched Neteyam, the rest of his family and then the clan followed suit, one by one until everyone was connected as they welcomed Neteyam into the clan as a man.

You smiled at him as the people began to separate and once he could, Neteyam turned and put his hand on your shoulder, making you blush. His parents weren’t oblivious as they watched you, and Jake gave Neytiri a knowing smile as he held his hand out to her. It felt like just yesterday that she had done the same to him and he was happy for his son. He chose well, just like he did.

--

Every time a member of the clan came of age, there was a celebration. It was filled with food and dance and stories and songs; and Neteyam spent the whole night looking at you.

He was seated between his father, the Olo’eykton, and Lo’ak, and you were across from him, much too far for his liking. He could hear the people telling stories, but he wasn’t listening as he focused on you. You were the only thing that mattered to him.

You had put flowers in your hair and you wore a top he didn’t recognize so it had to be new and Neteyam couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were his everything.

It was only once the sun began to dip in the sky and people returned to their tents that Neteyam was able to steal some much needed alone time with you.

Neteyam washed the paint off and put his newly earned battle belt on by himself, but Jake stuck around with a gut instinct and gave his son a nod before he put his hand on his shoulder. Neteyam didn’t have to tell him for him to know he intended to take a mate, he remembered his own youth well and he could only hope his son found the same happiness he found in Neytiri.

Neteyam nodded back to his father, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure, son?” Jake asked and Neteyam nodded.

“More sure than I have ever been.”

“Good,” Jake nodded and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

It was Neteyam’s turn to laugh and he shrugged his father’s hand off, dipping his head to his father one final time before he slipped out to find you. He was a man now, and you were his to claim.

Neteyam held his hand out to you and you blushed as you took it and let him guide you toward the Tree of Souls. If you were to be mated, then you were going to do it properly and you would be mated before Eywa.

It was only you and Neteyam before the tree and your heart raced with anticipation. By the time you got before the tree, before Eywa, you were a couple steps ahead of Neteyam and your ears twitched with every step he took to close the distance between you. Your tail flicked as he shifted his weight and it took him way too long to touch you, his hand just barely brushing your back to make you look at him.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said softly, giving you an out. But you didn’t want an out.

“I want to,” you told him, holding his eyes before you slowly lowered yourself to your knees, your heart racing. This was the moment you had been waiting for your whole life, with the person you had been hoping for.

Neteyam followed your lead and knelt across from you before he pulled his braid over his shoulder. You held his gaze as you did the same, your braid heavy in your hand. You had made the bond with horses and your ikran, but taking a mate was something else entirely. Your heart raced with excitement and anxiety as you gripped the end of your braid and held it up, your tendrils searching for his.

You held Neteyam’s gaze as he gripped the end of his own braid and held it out. You let your eyes drop to your braid as he brought his closer. He paused to give you a chance to pull back, and when you didn’t, he moved his braid closer, letting his tendrils intertwine with yours.

It was unlike anything you had every experienced before.

The air left you lungs and you closed your eyes as you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. His touch felt like electricity as he trailed his hands up your arms. And then you were overcome with warmth and familiarity and comfort. Home, you realized. You felt at home. You pulled back to look at him, your jaw slack and pupils blown and you found Neteyam looking back at you with the same awestruck expression. Warmth and pleasure coursed through your veins and when he cupped your cheek, you leaned into his touch.

And then he kissed you. For as long as you could remember, you dreamt of the touch of your mate, but it was so much better than you could have imagined and you melted into the kiss as you rested your hands on his shoulders and moved closer.

Neteyam’s hands trailed down to your hips and you let him pull you onto his lap, both of you desperate for every touch you could steal. You pulled back from the kiss to catch your breath as you struggled to keep air in your lungs, your pull to Neteyam so strong. Your jaw was slack as you looked at him and you were sure your pupils were as blown as his were.

“Neteyam,” you breathed and rubbed your nose against his, craving his touch.

“I know, my name,” he breathed and rubbed his nose back against yours as he let you feel him through his loin cloth. It pulled a soft moan from your lips which he quickly quieted with another kiss.

“I need you,” he said against your lips and let his hand brush the top of your tail, knowing how sensitive it was, and he was rewarded with you rocking your hips into his.

“I need you, too,” you told him and pulled back so you could run your hand down his strong chest to his newly earned warrior’s belt. It wasn’t something you had ever put on let alone taken off, so Neteyam had to help you rid himself of it so you could once again trail your fingers down his abdomen and down to the top of his loin cloth.

Neteyam’s soft groan had heat pooling between your thighs and you were sure he could feel it. “’Teyam,” you whispered and covered his hand on your hip with your own. His golden eyes were dark as he looked at you and you slowly guided his hand up to your chest, needing him to touch you.

Neteyam had seen your chest more times than he’d care to admit, the necklace and beads provided little coverage, but seeing you and feeling you were two entirely different things. Your skin was warm and soft beneath his touch, but your nipples were hard and when he caught it between his fingers, he was rewarded with a soft moan from you, which he desperately wanted to hear again.

He licked his lips as he brought his hand up to your other breast. His hands dwarfed you, and you moaned and leaned into him as he pinched your nipples, learning exactly what you liked, what you needed.

“’Teyam,” you whined and rocked your hips into his once again. His touch wasn’t enough, you could feel him and you needed him. “My mate,” you whispered and trailed your hands down his back.

“I know,” he nodded. You didn’t have to tell him for him to know. He gave a final tweak to your nipples before trailing his hands down your sides to the band of your loin cloth. He kept his eyes on yours as he undid it and slowly peeled the material away from you. it only made your racing heart more intense as you rested on his lap, and your tail brushed his knees as he looked at you before he laid you back against the soft moss.

You were bare to him, but you didn’t care as he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Neteyam ran his eyes over you before he reached down to untie his own loin cloth, and then there was nothing between you.

“Please, ‘Teyam.”

He nodded and ran his hand up your thigh toward where you needed him most. As soon as his thumb reached the seam of where your thigh met your hip, Neteyam could feel how badly you needed him, your wetness coating your skin, pulling a soft groan from him.

When he finally touched you, his touch was light and you let your eyes close as you moaned softly. He was gentle as he trailed his fingers up your slit to the bud at the top and he was rewarded with a loud gasp when he rubbed your clit. He watched you with careful eyes as he circled the bud with his fingers and felt how you throbbed for him.

The tips of his fingers were rough from his years of hunting, and between the roughness and sureness of his touch, you wouldn’t last long. Your high was building fast and when you opened your eyes and found his familiar golden eyes looking back at you, it sent you over the edge.

“Neteyam,” you moaned as you came, your back arching as you pressed your hips into his hand. Neteyam groaned as you drenched his hand and he kept rubbing your clit through it, loving your blissed out expression. It was only when your moans turned to whines that he trailed his fingers down your slit to your entrance.

“May I?” He asked and you nodded quickly so he pressed his finger into you, moaning at how warm and tight you were. His mate, he thought. His perfect mate.

Once you adjusted to his finger, he added a second, not wanting to hurt you. He felt your every flutter around his fingers and it made his cock ache. “I need you,” he told you, his voice rough from holding himself back.

“Then have me,” you replied and spread your legs wider, desperate for your mate.

“Eywa have mercy,” he whispered and pulled his fingers from you before slotting himself between your thighs. He didn’t have to ask, he could feel your need, and he held your gaze as he guided himself to your entrance.

You gasped as he pressed into you and he rested his forehead against yours until his hips were touching yours. “My mate,” he breathed as you ran your hands down his back, and when you wrapped your legs around his hips, you felt his tail brush your ankle. Neteyam’s breaths were shallow as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, both of you needing a moment to adjust.

You were finally tied together the way you always should have been.

Together.

Connected.

One.

“’Teyam,” you breathed once you had adjusted and you cupped the back of his head.

He knew exactly what you needed and he nodded as he pulled halfway out before thrusting back into you and started a slow rhythm, soaking in every feeling of you. You had never felt so connected to someone and you melted at his touch, unsure of where you ended and he began.

His movements were slow but sure and you were consumed with the feel and smell of him. He filled you in a way you didn’t know you could be filled and you could feel yourself get closer and closer to that high with his every movement.

It wasn’t long until your moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his shoulders as your tail thrashed against the moss. When you came, your veins were filled with warmth, a warmth that only Neteyam could feel as his hips stuttered. The feeling of his mate cumming around him was indescribable and it pushed him ever closer.

He fucked you through your high before he picked his pace up, searching his own high. It wasn’t long before he came, too, burying himself deep inside you as he filled you up. You gasped at the feeling and pulled him closer, needing every piece of your mate you could get.

Neteyam smiled into your neck as you both caught your breath, and he pressed a light kiss to your skin before he pulled back to look at you with a soft smile. “We are mated before Eywa,” he breathed and cupped your jaw.

You leaned into his touch with a soft smile. “We are mated for life,” you replied, making his smile widen.

“My mate, my beautiful mate,” he smiled and rested his forehead against yours as you both soaked each other in.

You stayed with your forehead against his as your highs melted away, and slowly Neteyam pulled out of you, murmuring a soft apology when you whimpered at the loss of him. You could still feel his every breath and heartbeat, just like he could feel yours, and when he reached to break the bond, you shook your head. “Can we stay like this?” You asked softly.

Neteyam dropped his head as he nodded and he gave you a small smile before he kissed you softly. His every touch felt like home and you melted into him. He ran his thumbs over your cheek as he looked at you, his eyes full of love for you before he let himself settle behind you. His chest was warm against your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist and you smiled to yourself as you leaned back against him.

You could feel his breath and his heart and the entirely of his being.

Whole, you realized, you felt whole. Neteyam was your other half, the part you hadn’t realized you were missing. Your everything.

The bond was a beautiful thing.

You smiled as you melted back against him. Your eyelids were heavy and it was easy for sleep to claim you, and when it did, you dreamt of your future with Neteyam—the way you’d grow together and the son he’d give you—and you smiled as you slept, unaware that Eywa had shown Neteyam the same dream.

--

When you woke to the sunlight streaming on your face the next morning, Neteyam was already awake, just soaking in the feeling of you, your braids still conjoined. He smiled when he realized you were awake and guided you onto your back so he could look at you as he rested on his side.

“Good morning, my mate,” he smiled softly.

“Good morning, my mate,” you repeated and reached out to cup his cheek. Neteyam leaned into your touch, making you smile as you ran your thumb over the arch of his cheek.

All he wanted was to stay wrapped up in you forever, but he knew you both had things to do and expectations to meet. “We should head back to the village,” he whispered and you sighed before nodding.

“We should,” you agreed, even if all you wanted was him.

He nodded and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he asked to separate your braids. You didn’t want to, but you nodded and let Neteyam pull his braid from yours. You gasped at the break, feeling colder than you did a moment before, but even without the bond you could feel Neteyam. It was nowhere as strong as when your braids met, but he still lingered in the back of your mind and you knew you lingered in the back of his. You gave him a soft smile as you trailed your hand down his arm and he grinned at you, so in love with you.

It wasn’t hard for both of you to redress, through it did take you a few extra moments to clean your thighs, which made Neteyam smirk as he watched you, both of you taking your time, neither of you wanting the moment to end.

You had left the village as individuals, but now you returned as a mated pair. You held his hand as you let him guide you through the village toward his parents, toward the Olo’eykton.

As the Olo’eykton, it was his duty to know of every newly mated pair, and had it been anyone but his father, you wouldn’t have been so nervous. Sure, it was soon after his iknimaya, but he was still a man. But it was Neteyam’s father and Neteyam was the next Olo’eykton, making you, his mate, the next Tsahìk, and you couldn’t disappoint his family, or the People.

To no surprise, his family was already awake. Village life always started early.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri started when she laid her eyes on her oldest son, but her next words died on her tongue when she saw him holding your hand. He didn’t have to say anything for her to know. At his mate’s voice, Jake looked over and the corner of his lips twitched up as he saw his eldest son, already sensing his earlier intuition was correct.

“Mother, father,” Neteyam said and dipped his head to his parents, his hand never leaving yours, “I am taronyu now,” he continued. “Which means—”

“You may now choose a woman,” his mother finished for him, thinking back to the night she told Jake the very same words.

“Yes,” he breathed before he glanced back at you with a smile. “And I have.”

“You have?” Jake asked and Neteyam nodded as he looked to his father.

“We are mated before Eywa.”

His mother took a sharp breath in, not in disapproval, but out of realization that her eldest son had truly become a man and had left her nest. Jake touched Neytiri’s arm to ground her as he nodded to his son. “We’re happy for you,” he said for the both of them before looking at his own mate, encouraging her to say something.

“We are,” she breathed and stepped forward to cup Neteyam’s cheek. “My son,” she whispered and ran her thumb over the arch of his cheek.

Neteyam smiled at his mother before he nodded and pulled back from her touch, his smile widening as he looked at you and let his tail brush yours. Jake nodded at the interaction before he smiled at you, “welcome to the family.”

Your smile widened before you dipped your head to him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Nah,” Jake waved his hand. “It’s Jake.” He told you, though one day you’d come to call him ‘dad.’

You were welcomed into the Sully family with open arms. Neytiri had her reservations, as would any mother, but Jake adored you. He saw how deeply you cared for Neteyam, and how deeply Neteyam cared for you, and though he’d never admit it, Jake could see him and Neytiri in you two.

Neteyam’s youngest sister, Tuk, adored you and though Neteyam was her best friend, you were a close second. Kiri was happy to have another sister, and one closer in age than Tuk. And Lo’ak…

Lo’ak treated you like you had always been there. He didn’t hesitate to make fun of you like he did for the rest of his siblings, and he certainly didn’t hold back as he made fun of you picking Neteyam for your mate. It always made Neteyam roll his eyes and, more often than not, call his sibling a skxawng, but it made you smile because it meant you were truly part of the family and you loved it.

The bond was beautiful, as was the family you gained with it.

The problem was, nothing stayed perfect forever.

Everything changed the day Jake realized there was one too many stars in the sky.

Twenty years before, Toruk Makto led the clans to victory over the Sky People, all Na’vi knew his story, but the war was over, something of the past, something that had come and gone before either you or Neteyam were born—or it was supposed to be anyway.

The Second War against the Sky People was more intense than you could have ever imagined, with the guns and the fire and the relocation and the devastation and the death—so many deaths.

A very capable hunter, Neteyam was always involved in the war effort. A spotter. He tried to reassure you that it was the safest role he could have, that he wasn’t on the ground on the front lines, but it didn’t make you feel any better. There was no “safe” in a war. And you had seen too many of your people die.

As the mate of the next Olo’eykton, you could be the next Tsahìk, so Mo’at had taken you under her win, teaching you so you could one day take her place. So, unlike your mate, his parents and his brother, your role in the war wasn’t out there but back at home as you worked to heal the wounded—and make comfortable those who would be welcomed into Eywa’s arms.

You knew your role was important, but it was hard. It was hard to see the devastation and the death, and it was hard knowing your mate was out there and could just as easily be the next person who came through the tent flap in need of help.

You could never breathe deeply, let alone eat or drink, until he was home safe.

And the day he came back home bruised and bloodied, you dropped your tray of herbs before you rushed to him, even as Jake scolded him and Lo’ak.

“I’m fine,” he told you softly, but the blood on your hand said otherwise.

“You are bleeding, he is bleeding,” you said as you turned to Jake after he finished his little speech. “I am taking him to Mo’at.” Neytiri backed you up, also worried for her son, so Jake dismissed him and you heard Neytiri arguing with him as you led Neteyam toward the healing tent, your hand on his back.

“I’m fine, truly,” he repeated once you two were out of earshot of his parents.

“You are hurt,” you replied softly and stopped to look at him, taking his hand in yours. “My heart aches seeing you hurt.”

Neteyam gave you a soft smile and rested his forehead against yours. “I am fine, my mate,” he said before he kissed you. “I feel no pain when I am with you.”

His words made your heart flutter and you retuned his smile. “You still require healing,” you replied and led him to Mo’at’s tent where Kiri was helping her grandmother.

You knew you should help Mo’at, but you couldn’t find it in you to leave your mate’s side. Kiri knew what to do, she was even better than you were, and you were more than happy to let her assist Mo’at while you held Neteyam’s hand, the end of your tail curled around his ankle.

Your heart ached every time he winced at the sting of the antiseptic and you squeezed his hand as you watched Mo’at and Kiri. His wound looked worse than it was, and you let out a relieved breath as they finished up.

“See?” Neteyam smiled weakly. “I’m okay.” You shook your head but still thanked Eywa that your mate was alright.

Still, you struggled to find sleep that night, your mind consumed with the what ifs of your mate’s injury. It would be too easy for his injury to be worse, for him to be taken from you. You had seen too many lose their mates the last year and had their blood curling screams as their hearts shattered beyond repair permanently imprinted in your memory.

To lose a mate was a fate worse than death, and you knew you’d never survive it.

Neteyam healed quickly from his wounds and Lo’ak was grounded for his recklessness. Neteyam was back on his ikran long before Lo’ak was, and without his ikran, without being involved in the war, Lo’ak somehow managed to create even more trouble as he convinced his siblings to return to the old shack.

It was a harmless intention born out of boredom and frustration, but the results were life altering.

It was Avatars. New Avatars. In tactical gear. They managed to get Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk and Spider under their knives and you didn’t want to think of what could have happened if not for Jake, Neytiri and Neteyam. But Jake knew they’d never stop hunting them, hunting his family. They may have won the battle, but the war still raged.

Everything changed after that, after they took Spider.

Jake and Neytiri knew the People would never be safe as long as they stayed with them, so they had to leave.

The words were like stones in Neteyam’s heart as he told you his family was planning to leave.

The Forest was your home, the only place you ever knew, the only place you ever wanted to know. The Forest was where you were born, where you grew up, where you fell in love with Neteyam, where you were supposed to raise your children.

Neteyam could sense your hesitation. “My father said it was for the best. He said that the Sky People are hunting us and not the People, so if we leave, the People will be safe,” he explained as he took your hand in his and brushed his tail against yours. “But I will stay with you if you ask me, my mate.” He would follow you to the end of the world if you asked.

You tightened your lips as you thought, but it was an easy decision. Just a painful one. “I go where you go,” you told him softly and squeezed his hand. “You are my home and my future, Neteyam.”

In hindsight, you really wished you had asked him to stay.

You packed your things onto your ikran and your heart ached as you said your goodbyes, but Neteyam was your mate. You couldn’t be without him.

Neteyam flew by your side as you left the Forest and even without touching him, you felt his comfort and you gave him a soft smile. As long as you were together, you’d be alright.

In the end, you found sanctuary with the Metkayina, the reef people.

It was hard to learn their ways, it was hard leaning the way of the water when the Forest was all you knew, but what you didn’t expect was how hard it was to see Neteyam lose his battle belt. His whole life he had been working toward it, working to become taronyu and earn his place among the People, and he barely had it a year before it was taken from him; before his symbol of manhood was taken from him.

Neteyam may have been taronyu, a man, among the Omatikaya, but you were Metkayina now and the iknimaya of the Omatikaya meant nothing here. He had to learn the way of the water and earn his place among the Metkayina before he’d be seen as a man.

Like Jake, Neteyam’s ears dropped as his belt was taken away and you did your best to steel your shoulders like Neytiri. You both had to be strong for your mates.

None of you were seen as adults among the Metkayina, but rather as children. It frustrated some more than others, like you and Neytiri. Neteyam took after his father and tried to take the transition in stride and did what he could to fit in.

And if the relocation and the helpless feeling wasn’t enough, you were sick a few times after the transition. Initially, you blamed it on the dietary shift. Sure, fish had been a part of your diet before, but it was freshwater fish and something you only had on occasion rather than every meal of every day. It was easy to blame your sickness on the fish, you just didn’t realize that none of the others were getting sick. Not until you were shucking oysters with Ronal at least.

Ronal was the Tsahìk of the Metkayina. She saw all and she was especially hesitant toward you and Neytiri. Both you and Neytiri were being trained to become the Tsahìk of the Omatikaya, so it was natural for you both to resume your training with Ronal, she just wasn’t overly fond of the idea.

Ronal let it go the first few times you gagged at the smell of the oysters before she sighed. “Have you mated recently?” She asked without looking at you.

Your eyes bugged at the question. “Why do you ask?” You replied and stopped shucking to look over at her.

“Because I am wondering if you are with child,” Ronal replied, and the knife slipped from your hand.

“What?” You asked breathlessly.

“With child,” she repeated simply. She had had two children of her own with a third on the way, and she had helped to deliver more babes than she could count. She knew the signs well and given the amount of time she had been spending with you over the last couple weeks, she could see them in you. When you didn’t answer, Ronal looked over at you, “it is a simple question. Have you mated recently?”

Your ears went back as you blushed and nodded. Ronal hummed and put the oyster she was holding and her knife down before she stood and beckoned you up. She hummed as she looked you over before she touched your forehead and then your stomach.

“Food aversion?” She asked and you nodded.

“Fatigue?” You nodded again.

“Have you bled?” You thought about it for a moment before you ears went back further. You had been so focused on fitting in and your mate you hadn’t realized.

Ronal hummed and stepped back. “I do believe you are with child,” she said before she returned to her oysters like your world hadn’t just shifted on its axis—again.

Your hands shook as you gently touched your stomach.

Pregnant.

You—

You’d be lying if you said you couldn’t be, you certainly found comfort in your mate’s arms many, many times since the relocation. But pregnant? Now? Could there be a worse time?

Slowly, you pulled your hands back and took a deep breath to clear your mind and ground yourself before you picked your knife back up and reached for another oyster.

“There are other things to do,” Ronal told you. “If the small bothers you, you will be slow. Tsireya will provide you with a different task to do.” You wanted to take her up on the offer, but you could hear Jake’s voice in your head telling you not to cause trouble and pull your weight, so you shook your head.

“I will be fine.”

She hummed but wasn’t surprised when you gagged again a moment later and she cast a look in your direction. You sighed as you nodded and moved your basket of unshucked oysters over to her, “I will find Tsireya.” If she smiled as you walked away, well, no one had to know.

Everyone was still so focused on fitting in and you could see the way looking after Lo’ak and keeping him out of trouble weighed on Neteyam, so you kept the news to yourself. If you told him, he’d only worry about you more than he already did and you didn’t want that.

And, well, it was no surprise that Ronal wasn’t fond of you. Forest People. Outcast. Alien. But knowing you were with child made Ronal soften. She didn’t look at you with the same animosity she did the others, and every time she saw you, she was sure to ask how you were doing. The Sullys were smart people, and it didn’t take Neytiri long to put two and two together and realize something was up with you, but she kept her suspicions to herself as she kept a careful eye on you.

You had always been the more affectionate one in your relationship with Neteyam, always touching him or seeking to touch him, but now you were reserved. At first, Neytiri thought you two were fighting, but Neteyam assured her you weren’t, that it was just the move and the swimming was exhausting you and the fish wasn’t agreeing with you, which was true—it just wasn’t the whole truth.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him. You did, you just didn’t want to add to his already full plate, and then the longer you kept it a secret the harder it was to tell him. Between Kiri’s seizure and Norm coming and Lo’ak and Neteyam’s fight with Ao’nung and Payakan and the Tulkun, there just wasn’t a good time to tell him.

It was only after yet another dinner you couldn’t keep down that the truth finally came to light.

“You are unwell,” Neteyam said as he followed you toward your hut. It was the third time this week and he was tired of you constantly brushing it, and him, off.

“I’m fine, Neteyam,” you sighed. “It’s just—”

“The move? The fish?” He repeated your words back to you. “No, I don’t believe you. Have you spoken to Ronal? She is Tsahìk and she could help you.”

You hesitated before you turned back to look at him with tight lips before you sighed and took his hand. He gave you a concerned look as you guided him down to the beach where you could have some privacy. “Ronal can’t help me,” you said as you turned to face and gently fiddled with his fingers. “Because I am not sick.”

“It is just us, my mate, you never need lie to me,” he replied softly and used his free hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m not lying, ‘Teyam,” you breathed and covered his hand with yours before you guided it down to your stomach. “I’m not sick, I’m with child.”

Neteyam froze as he let your words sink in before he softened. “You are with child?” He whispered and stepped closer to you.

You nodded, “it’s horrible timing, but—”

“But nothing,” he smiled. “This is amazing news! We’re having a baby—the first of many I hope.” You were taken by surprise when he picked you up and spun you around, completely elated.

You laughed softly as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders before you patted him. “Enough, ‘Teyam, I’ll be sick again.”

“Right, sorry, my love,” he replied and sat you down, his smile never wavering as he touched your stomach again. “I’m just really happy.”

“I am, too,” you said softly and covered his hand before you kissed him softly. He cupped the back of your head to keep you close, but you both couldn’t stop smiling so you pulled back and rested your hand on his chest, feeling the familiar, comforting beat of his heart.

Neteyam wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer by the small of your back before he rested his forehead against yours. “I would take you here and now on the beach if you let me, my mate,” he hummed.

“Anyone could see, including your parents,” you laughed.

“Then let them see,” he hummed and when he tried to kiss you again, you shoved him back, making him laugh loudly before he pulled you close again, the tips of his fingers brushing the base of your tail, knowing how sensitive it was.

“Once the sickness passes,” you told him and guided his hand back up to your back.

Neteyam softened and he nodded, “of course, my mate. May I at least hold you tonight?”

“I’d expect nothing else,” you smiled and let him lead you back toward your hut. Once Neteyam closed the flap, you rid yourself of your top—another sign of your growing baby was how swollen and sensitive your breasts had become and the weight of the beads irritated you in a way they never had before.

Neteyam groaned low in his throat as he knelt on the bed, “are you sure you don’t want me to pleasure you, my mate?” He asked softly.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you laughed and pulled him down next to you and you laughed when his hand managed to find your breast after he settled behind you. He didn’t try to do more than hold your breast while his other hand rested on your stomach, so you let him as you pressed yourself back against him.

The reef wasn’t the Forest, but it was nice and welcoming and you could see you two raising your children along the blue water and sandy beaches. Neteyam’s tail curled around your ankle and you smiled as you tried to press yourself closer to him. You could feel him smile into your neck and it was easy to fall asleep.

He was your everything.

This family was your everything.

And if you knew what would happen next, you would have fought sleep to soak in the feeling of his arms one last time. You would have memorized the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest. You would have traced every dark line that decorated his body. You would have held him a little longer.

You wouldn’t have taken the moment for granted, expecting thousands more in the coming years.

But you didn’t know what would happen so you didn’t, and the ache of regret would eat at you for the rest of your days.

The bond… it’s a beautiful thing.

Until it isn’t.

--

The village was devastated by the hunting of the Tulkun by the Sky People. They were their spirit brothers and sisters, and Jake didn’t have to say it for you to know it happened because you were here. They weren’t hunting the Tulkun, they were hunting you. When Jake took the tracker from Neteyam, you took his hand and he tried to reassure you as he squeezed your hand.

“You tell the Tulkun if they’re hit by one of these, they’re marked for death.”

Jake’s words hung heavy in the air. Neteyam gave you a look that told you everything would be okay, but your stomach still twisted. You came to the Metkayina to hide; to keep your people safe. You promised them you were done with war, but the war still followed you—and at the cost of their spirit siblings.

And because nothing ever came easy, Lo’ak was determined to warn Payakan himself. Neteyam followed Lo’ak, knowing his brother better than anyone and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Lo’ak gathering a saddle for an ilu.

He shook his head, a frustrated smile on his lips, “no way, you’re not going, baby brother.”

Lo’ak wasn’t having any of it. “I have to warn Payakan,” he told his brother firmly.

“No. You have to keep your skxawng ass here,” Neteyam replied, gritting his teeth. For once, could he just listen to him.

But Lo’ak never did. “He’s outcast. There’s no one to warn him but me.”

Neteyam shook his head as he clenched his fist. “Bro, why do you always have to make things so hard?” Neteyam said exasperated as he touched the top of Lo’ak’s’ head, but Lo’ak quickly shoved him off as his eyes hardened.

“No. You mean why can’t I be the perfect son like you, a perfect little soldier. Well, I’m not you, okay? I’m not you. He’s my brother. I’m going.” Neteyam clenched his jaw as he stepped back, his brother’s words cutting him like a knife. If he only knew the weight of his words, but he didn’t and he never would as Neteyam swallowed back the bitter words threatening to spill out and he steeled himself as stepped closer to his brother.

“Oh, he’s your brother? No, I’m your brother,” his voice was hard as he stared Lo’ak down, but Lo’ak didn’t concede and he scoffed before he dove in the water, heading for Payakan and Neteyam knew he had to go after him.

“Neteyam!” You called as you came up behind him and he shook his head.

“He’s going to Payakan,” he told you and you were hot on his heels as he summoned his ilu, as were Tsireya, Kiri, Tuk, Ao’nung and Rotxo. But when you went to summon your own ilu, Neteyam put his hand on your stomach to keep you back. “I need you here where you’re safe,” he told you but you shook his head.

“I’m going, Neteyam.” He opened his mouth to argue, but your look silenced him. Wherever your mate went, you would follow.

His tail flicked as he clenched his jaw before he nodded. “With me then,” he said before he dove into the water and you followed his lead. You quickly settled behind him on his ilu and wrapped your hand around his waist while he held onto the reigns of the ilu with one hand, his other hand reaching back to hold your thigh, keeping you against him as he followed after Lo’ak to Payakan.

By the time you got to Payakan, Lo’ak was struggling against the red tracker buried in Payakan’s back while the others tried to help. You and Neteyam were quick to jump on and help, but the tracker was in deep and you realized quickly that the demon ship was rapidly approaching.

“Call dad,” Neteyam said to Lo’ak. “Just do it.”

He didn’t want to, he knew the trouble he’d be in, so he hesitated before he called Jake. Lo’ak’s words were muffled as you all focused on the tracker. Your heart raced as you kept glancing between it and the demon ship. “Come on, come on, come on,” you said as Neteyam tossed a rope up to Ao’nung who wrapped one end around the tracker while Neteyam wrapped the other end around the reigns of his ilu.

“Please, Eywa, please,” you whispered as you pulled and pulled and finally the tracker gave, and you all fell at the release of tension. Neteyam was quick to gather the tracker as Lo’ak told Payakan to go.

“Go, I’ll draw them away,” Neteyam told you, making your blood go cold. When you opened your mouth to argue, Neteyam shook his head. They were after the tracker and Neteyam couldn’t have it anywhere near you, your baby, or his siblings. “Take Tuk, I’ll see you after.”

You had no choice but to nod and you gathered Tuk and Kiri on Kiri’s ilu and led them into the seaweed for cover, but the submarines followed you. Your mind raced as quickly as your heart as your ilu weaved between plants and leaves, desperate for any cover, but there wasn’t any to be had. There was too many of them.

The submarines swarmed you, forcing you off the ilu and you kept your eyes on Tuk as you swam toward an air pocket, Lo’ak and Tsireya right behind you while Kiri ended up with Ao’nung and Rotxo. “They’re coming,” Tsireya said and you were all quick to dive back under, but it was useless. The submarines could move faster than you could swim.

It was over when they launched the net at you. You didn’t realize it was coming until it was too late, the net already surrounding you and the air left your lungs as you began to panic. Lo’ak managed to escape before it caught him and he pulled at the net trying to rescue you, Tuk and Tsireya, but it was no use. The net scooped you up and dropped you on board the demon ship. Your vision swam as you tried to catch your breath, your lungs burning, and before you knew it, you were bound to the demon ship’s rail.

You watched as Tuk, Tsireya and Lo’ak struggled against the bonds but you knew it pointless. You were stuck. You were stuck and your mate was somewhere out there. You felt useless as the Metkayina attacked the demon ship. When you came and begged for sanctuary, you had promised them there would be no more war and now the war was here and they’d die because of your family.

You looked Tuk and your heart sank at the terror in her eyes, and you were so focused on Tuk you didn’t notice Payakan until he was on top of you, desperate to save Lo’ak.

All hell broke loose after that.

“Don’t watch,” you told Tuk. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” Neteyam had always been her favourite family member, but you were a close second given you were his mate. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she nodded. “Just keep your eyes on me, Tuk,” you repeated.

It was only when Neteyam jumped on board that you were finally able to take a deep breath. A smile played on his lips as he cut your bounds, then Tuk’s, then Tsireya’s before he reached his brother and cut him free. “Who’s the might warrior? Come on, say it,” he grinned as he touched Lo’ak’s head before he turned back to you.

“Bro,” Lo’ak smiled and reached for a gun while Neteyam had his back to him.

“Go, get out of here. Take Tuk. Go,” Neteyam said to you.

“Neteyam—” you tried but he shook his head.

“Go,” he repeated, begging you to listen to him, and you clenched your jaw as you tried to lead Tuk away, and Neteyam kept his eyes on you, desperate to make sure you and Tuk were safe. But when he heard the familiar click of a gun, he turned back to his brother.

“We have to go,” he said but Lo’ak shook his head.

“He has Spider. Come on, bro, we can’t lose him,” Lo’ak said and headed into the ship.

Neteyam protested under his breath before he followed after his brother. Lo’ak always had to make things difficult.

At the same time, they managed to grab Kiri. Tuk’s scream for her sister would forever be imprinted in your memory, but you had to get her to safety. Jake and Neytiri would get Kiri.

Except, Tuk fought your hold on her before she slipped free and headed back for the ship. “Sullys stick together,” she said and you grumbled under your breath before you abandoned your ilu and headed after her, needing to keep her safe.

“This isn’t a good idea, Tuk,” you whisper shouted at her, but she ignored you, desperate to save Kiri, and you were sure to be quiet as you followed her.

“Kiri!” She called when she saw her sister, slipping under the bars as you both tried to break Kiri’s bonds, but it was no use and an Avatar was quick to bind Tuk to the rail next to Kiri before shoving you back into the water. Your heart sank and you wanted nothing more than to jump up and fight and rescue them and keep them safe, but when the bullets hit the water, you knew it wasn’t an option and you called to a nearby ilu and quickly jumped on. You’d have to find another way to rescue them and you circled the water looking for any sign of your mate and Lo’ak.

You were granted a moment of relief when you saw Tsireya, but it was short lived as you realized she was alone and your heart sank. Tsireya pulled her ilu up beside yours and pursed her lips as she shook her head. Neteyam and Lo’ak had to still be on board.

Your heart twisted before a flash of cold went through your body and you gasped for breath under the water, the air bubbling around you as Lo’ak, Spider and Neteyam jumped into the water above you, bullets still raining around you.

No.

No.

You knew it. Before he could even say it, you knew, the freezing cold blooming in your chest that left you gasping for air as you resurfaced in the water.

“That was insane, cous,” the voice was muffled in your ears.

“Neteyam,” you breathed and reached out to him.

“You skxawng, I’ve been shot.”

Panic coursed through your veins and you swore you didn’t breathe as you wrapped your arm around him to keep his head above the water, the normally clear water stained red with his blood. Too much blood.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” you said to both him and yourself, even as the ice in your chest melted to a sharp ache that shot down your arm and Neteyam’s expression twisted in pain.

The panic in Lo’ak’s eyes mirrored your own as he helped you get Neteyam onto the ilu before he pulled you on too. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. Neteyam was a mighty warrior, the best of his age, but he was weak in his arms.

“They have Kiri and Tuk,” Tsireya tried to tell him, but the words never really processed for him.

“We can’t go back,” he replied and raced for the rocks, Tsireya and Spider holding on to the side if the ilu’s reigns. You kept your hand pressed against Neteyam’s chest as you moved through the water and his hand gripped your wrist tightly, needing to hold on to you, needing to anchor himself to you.

It only took a minute to get to the rocks, but it felt like hours. Lo’ak helped you carry Neteyam as he gritted his teeth in pain. Your chest felt tighter with every passing second and you didn’t know if it was your own anxiety, or your mate slipping through your fingers.

Your hands shook as you moved around him and your ears started to ring as you rolled him onto his side. The shot was clean through.

“It’s almost always better for the bullet to be clean through.” You could hear Jake’s voice in your head and you laid him back and put pressure on his chest as you begged Eywa to help you.

It was almost always better.

Almost.

Neteyam’s hands were coated in his own blood and he looked up at you with wide, terrified eyes before he grasped your bicep, his grip nowhere near as strong as it was when he held your wrist.

“You’re okay, you’re going to be okay,” you told him, willing your voice not to shake so you could be strong for your mate. He breathed your name before he scrunched his face up like he was trying to get away from the pain. “You’re going to be okay,” you repeated before pulling your eyes away from his as Jake and Neytiri settled around you.

“No, no, no,” Jake whispered as he perched across from you.

“Clean through,” you told him before he could ask, your ears back and hands red with Neteyam’s blood, and your heart dropped at the way his ears went back. “No,” you whispered, unable to muster your voice any louder before you looked back at your mate. He had to be okay.

He had to.  

“You’ll be okay,” Neteyam told you as he struggled to force air into his lungs.

The ache in your chest began to ease to a fuzzy feeling and you shook your head. “No, no, Neteyam.” You couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t survive it.

“You’ll both be okay,” he breathed, his voice softer than a whisper as he dropped his hand to your stomach.

“I see you; I love you,” you told him, desperately trying not to cry and you pulled one of your hands from his chest to cup his jaw, your thumb tracing the dark line that decorated the arch of his cheek.

“I know, I—”

Neteyam never finished his sentence and his hand dropped from your stomach, leaving a bloody handprint in its wake.

You felt the moment he died.

The warmth, the comfort, the unmistakable feeling of him, fizzled out, replaced instead with an unshakeable feeling of emptiness.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You were supposed to spend your life with him.

It was supposed to be you and him.

You and him.

You were lightheaded as you settled back on your haunches, your hands red with his blood and Lo’ak caught you as you swayed.

Numb.

The only way to describe the feeling was numb, like he had taken your soul with him when he died, leaving nothing but an empty shell in his wake.

And maybe he had.

The bond is beautiful, that’s what they tell you. But they never tell you of the anguish that comes with it.

You could separate your life into before Neteyam and after Neteyam. The before wasn’t important, it didn’t matter, because Neteyam was your world. He was your everything, your world spun on an axis of you and him. The People say you’re born twice, once when you are born and then again when you find your place among the people, and you were born again the day Neteyam chose you. And now all that was left of your mate was his bloody handprint and the world had the audacity to keep on spinning.

The ringing in your ears drowned out Neytiri’s blood curling scream for her first-born son, and you slouched into Lo’ak as you kept your eyes on Neteyam’s. His beautiful, golden, lifeless eyes.

You didn’t hear Jake ask Lo’ak where his sisters were. You didn’t hear Tsireya tell him they were on the ship. You didn’t hear Spider tell him to follow him. And you certainly didn’t hear Jake tell Lo’ak to stay and that he had done enough. You didn’t hear any of it as you kept looking at your mate, unable to pull your eyes away, no matter how painful it was.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You only heard Lo’ak tell Tsireya he was going because he pulled back from you, jostling you enough to pull you from your trance to steady yourself. “Lo’ak, no,” she replied desperately, but there was no stopping him as he dove back into the water, leaving you alone with her and your mate’s dead body.

You didn’t know how long you two sat there in the silence, it could have been seconds or minutes or hours, before Tsireya broke it. “We should wash your hands,” she said softly.

You curled your hands into fists. You didn’t want to. Washing the blood off meant losing the only tangible part of your mate you had left. But you knew she was right, so you nodded and you moved on autopilot as she led you to the edge of the water. Your gaze was blank as she washed Neteyam’s blood off your hands, but you drew the line when she reached for your stomach.

“No,” you said sharply and gripped her wrist before she could touch you. Her ears went back as she nodded before she took your hand in hers as you sat back on the rock.  

You felt both empty and heavy at the same time as you sat there before Tsireya found her voice again. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, unsure of what else to say.

Your ears went back as you nodded, not trusting your voice. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before you looked over at her. “You and Lo’ak deserve better,” you whispered and touched your stomach, desperate to remind yourself of something worth living for.

Her ears went back even further as her shoulders dropped, but she followed your hand with her eyes. “He—” she started before she stopped herself. “Are you?” She asked instead.

You nodded again before you looked over at her with tears streaming down your cheeks. “I can’t do this on my own. I can’t do this without him.”

Her shoulders dropped as her ears went back again. She couldn’t imagine what you were feeling. “You won’t do this alone,” she told you softly. “You have the village behind you.”

You knew she only meant to comfort you, but her words only reminded you that Neteyam would never meet his child. “But I need him,” you whispered before you pulled your hand from her and pushed yourself away from the water’s edge.

Your heart broke all over again as you looked at your mate, laying there lifelessly, blood staining his beautiful blue skin. His eyes were still open as they stared at the sky above—at nothing. You couldn’t help the sob that escaped you as you looked at him before you reached out and softly closed his eyes. He’d look like he was sleeping, if not for all the blood.

But despite all the blood, you laid down next to him and gently put your head on his chest as you curled into him, your tail wrapping around his ankle.

His chest was silent and still and you wept into him, begging Eywa to give him back.

But she didn’t.

His chest never rose, his heart never beat, his skin never warmed, and his eys never opened.

He was gone.

Your beautiful mate was gone and there was nothing you could do to get him back.

--

The funeral was harder than you expected, having to say goodbye to his body as you, Jake and Neytiri lowered his body down to the Cove of the Ancestors. You knew that he was gone, that your mate was gone, that it was just a shell of his being, but you still wept, your tears burning your eyes more than the salt ever did.

Your lungs burnt as the air left you as you watched as the cove took his body, wrapping around him as it slowly consumed him, and just like that, he was gone, a piece of the ocean.

The way of water has no beginning and no end. The sea is around you and in you. The sea is your home, before your birth and after your death.

The first thing anyone heard when you resurfaced was your sob and you let Neytiri hug you as you sobbed into her shoulder. “My child,” she whispered as she held you close.

“It’s not fair,” you managed to get out between sobs.

“I know,” she whispered, her heart just as broken as yours.

Eywa holds all her children in her heart, but all you wanted was to hold him in your arms.

--

And if you thought the funeral was hard, visiting the Spirit Tree was even harder. Jake and Neytiri had gone soon after the funeral but took you days to get the courage to visit, to visit Neteyam.

Your tears disappeared into the salt water as you held your braid in your hand. Your heart ached in your chest, but slowly you let your tendrils connect with the Spirit Tree.

At first, all you felt was warmth as white consumed your vision, but then you were filled with the familiar view of the Forest, of your home. You smiled to yourself as you looked around, and just like that, Neteyam slipped out from between the trees, his battle belt and ikran eyewear on and your eyes watered as you looked at him, every bit the man you loved.

“Neteyam?” You asked and he smiled as he came around you, his tail wrapping around yours in a way he knew comforted you.

“Why are you crying, my mate?” He asked concerned he reached out to cup your jaw.

“I’m just happy to see you,” you told him breathlessly and you committed his smile to memory.

“I’m happy to see you, too, my mate,” he replied and you trailed your eyes over every mark on his body as your heart wept.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Neteyam was your everything, your best friend, your lover, your mate, the father of your child.

From the moment his braid meant yours, you felt him. You felt him in a way no one else could and no one else would. You felt his being. And too soon you had felt him go.

Memories of you two as children, growing up, becoming teenagers, and falling in love, flashed before your eyes and you took water into your lungs as you sobbed, forcing yourself to pull back from the spirit tree and returned to the surface, one hand treading water as you held your stomach with the other.

A boy, you thought suddenly, the Tsahìk abilities you had been training for finally showing themselves. You were having a boy.

The bond is a beautiful thing, but it’s also the most painful thing you ever experienced, the beginning and end of everything, of all that you are.

#neteyam #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #avatar twow spoilers #avatar spoilers #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water imagine #avatar twow imagine #avatar smut #avatar the way of water smut #avatar twow smut #neteyam smut #mine #i really dont know if posting this was a good idea but umm yeah throwing this into the abyss #if this flops i might just delete it lmao

[sadcharactersrmykryptonite]

Sand and his generosity.

Sand is a great character and I find it interesting that even though he did a crime, is actively doing another crime the majority of the fandom is behind him being such a good guy, and he is. But it got me thinking. Why is he so generous towards ray?

Now 14 yr old me would have instantly said true love but now I know a lot more. Something about his care for ray feel so familiar. Like he knows exactly what to do with someone like ray, on the verge of an alcoholic spiral 24/7.

The first few episodes we see them connecting but even if they did connect more then the other couples, there was something huge missing. Sand didn't know the extend of rays addiction. And then we see sand processing it and then top comes barging in and derails him and the entire trainwreck that resulted and sand had understood just how gone ray is. That boy needs rehab asap.

But sand goes after him, he saves him, he takes care of him, he bends to his every whim and is happy to do so, only to be tossed aside. And it's in the way he takes care of him. He knows how to take care of a drunk person , he knows how to be gentle with them , he knows how to scold them without coming across as demeaning or prejudice. He has the patience of someone who's already dealt with circumstances like these. Of taking care of a loved one who is an addict.

You can see it in the way he doesn't bring up the outburst. He bought up the drunk driving because it has the potential to cause lasting harm. But an outburst in a bar will be just that an outburst. Sand doesn't know that ray had told mew about topton, but he doesn't give the outburst much thought when ray had attacked him directly. And that's where I think he knows what to except from an outburst from an addict and is choosing to not take it personally. And that level of insight is not typical in a 20 something college kid , even if the college kid works in a bar , because ray targeted him specially. Nobody would have blamed him if he didn't go, heck rays friends who he have known for years didn't go but sand a recent acquaintance went.

Now it can be said that sand has seen the good side of ray, and he has. When it comes with dealing with addicts most people focus on changing the bad side and forget about the good side. But sand didn't , he saw the good side, liked it and is trying to get that back. That smile in the bathtub, he thought he was getting it back. But then he saw raymew dancing and that look is so interesting. Because there's no anger, there's sadness, and heartbreak and disappointed. And there's resignation. He predicted it would happen and it did.

He wasn't disappointed with ray, he was disappointed in himself. He was dealing with an addict, trying to save him when the person doesn't want to be saved. Something he has done before. Something he so familiar with he was anticipating the heartbreak when he and ray had hooked up. It's exactly like playing with fire.

So why did he jump right in when he knows the pain, because it's familiar to him.

So who's this person who has given sand the experience with working with addicts . Either his mom who's the closest person we have seen to him or his ex.

Imagine if it was his ex , someone he loved , cared for and has helped with a recovery process but then top comes and takes him away. By using drugs.

Which would explain why sand is so mad at him , why he insisted that top stole him.

Sand saw the good side with his ex , helped him get back and all that was tossed away for the next fix that top had with him. And he fought tooth and nails for him , but the ex chose his next fix and not him.

Then his eyes fell on a boy similar to his ex , who's also going through addiction and sand wants to help him since it's so familiar. And he knows it's a bad idea and he is watching the exact same thing happen away and this time he's so resigned and too tired too fight.

His generosity is not just because he's a good person , it's because he's used to it, it's because it's familiar to him.

#i was listening to exile when i wrote this can you sense it #only friends #only friends the series #only friends ray #only friends meta #only friends sand #only friends spoilers #ofts #ofts sand #ofts ray #only friends sandray

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Connection: Remus

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Pairings: FINALLY DLAMP

Word Count: 2492

rem.ix added Emo.Ticon, LogicalLogan, MisterJ, and pat.pat to a conversation

rem.ix renamed the conversation to "Roman's Harem"

Emo.Ticon: FGAHKRTNOEUTBWOJET

LogicalLogan: When I asked for a list of the people who had also asked Roman out for dinner, this was not what I had in mind.

MisterJ: Nice to meet my competition.

pat.pat: Wait, is rem.ix Remus???

rem.ix: yep thats me whats up fuckers welcome to your collective interrogation

Emo.Ticon: aren't you in highschool kid? wait, how'd you get our usernames?

rem.ix: asked ro he gave em to me

LogicalLogan: Does he know you're doing this?

MisterJ: Are we about to get the shovel talk from a high school kid?

rem.ix: youre about to get a shovel talk from the only person in ros life who can ensure hell never talk to you again so shut up

Emo.Ticon: damn, kid

pat.pat: *Listens attentively*

LogicalLogan: Understood, Remus. What can we do for you?

rem.ix: first off role call explain who you are and how you know ro

rem.ix: i know all of it so dont lie

pat.pat: I'm Patton!!! We wait for the bus together in the morning, that's how we met.

Emo.Ticon: wait that's actually really cute wtf

LogicalLogan: My name is Logan, though you might have been able to guess that from my username. Roman and I share a calculus class and we study together.

Emo.Ticon: Virgil. Barista at the coffee shop on campus. Also a student. Princey comes in on my shifts all the time.

pat.pat: Wait, 'Princey?'

MisterJ: That's actually a pretty cute nickname. Also why did you switch to proper capitalization just for that one?

Emo.Ticon: what can i say, it's a gift. also shh

MisterJ: I'm Janus. I see Roman at the library.

LogicalLogan: Janus as in the god with two faces?

MisterJ: Yes, that's correct.

rem.ix: great now you all know each other and you all know that youre each into ro

pat.pat: Wait, Virgil, is your hair purple? I think we've met before!!!

Emo.Ticon: oh wait shit yeah you're the one with those big round glasses, right? yeah we've met hey what's up

rem.ix: wait thats a good idea everybody send a pic of yourself

LogicalLogan: Why?

rem.ix: in case you know eachother duh

pat.pat sent an image

Emo.Ticon sent an image

LogicalLogan sent an image

pat.pat: Wait, I know Logan too!! We had the same advisor last year, didn't we?

LogicalLogan: Yes, we did. Hello, it's good to talk to you again. How did your thesis end up going?

rem.ix: focus up nerds one of yous a hold out

MisterJ: I'm trying to find a good one, hold your horses, child.

rem.ix sent an audio file

Emo.Ticon: oh shit you got jeopardy'd

MisterJ sent an image

LogicalLogan: Ah, Janus. Yes, we've met.

MisterJ: Still sore over losing that debate, are we?

LogicalLogan: No, of course not.

Emo.Ticon: wait are you two the ones who shut down the entire lecture hall cause you wouldn't stop arguing

MisterJ: We were debating, Virgil.

pat.pat: I think that's a yes.

rem.ix: all of you focus the point is you all know each other yes or no

Emo.Ticon: ye

LogicalLogan: Yes, I know everyone here.

MisterJ: Yes.

pat.pat: Sorry, Remus. Yeah, I know everyone!

rem.ix: great

rem.ix: now do you all want to date roman yes or no

Emo.Ticon: jfc kid how old are you?

rem.ix: thats not the question emo

LogicalLogan: Yes, I would be interested in forming a romantic relationship with Roman.

pat.pat: I'm happy just being friends with him!! But yeah, I'd want to.

MisterJ: I am dating Roman.

rem.ix: no youre not ro has said hes not dating anyone right now and you guys went out to dinner once

MisterJ: How would you know?

rem.ix: im his fucking brother and he tells me everything and im this close to telling him youre a dick and he can do better

MisterJ: Watch your tone.

rem.ix: i dont have to watch shit

LogicalLogan: Janus, stop antagonizing him.

MisterJ: I'm not antagonizing him, I'm correcting him. Are you all seriously okay with being spoken to like this?

Emo.Ticon: he's not being unreasonable j he's concerned about his brother

pat.pat: I mean, it's not great, but I understand it.

LogicalLogan: We all know how protective Roman is of Remus, it makes sense that the reverse would be true.

MisterJ: I suppose you're right. Still.

rem.ix: look

rem.ix: ro is the most important person in the world to me

rem.ix: i cant remember the last time he just did something for himself and wasnt guilty about how it affected me even if it didnt at all

rem.ix: and he seems to really care about all of you and he likes spending time with you

rem.ix: lately hes been really really stressed about school and work and everything and having all of you is great but hes worried about whatll happen if he picks one of you over the others or if you guys find out about each other

rem.ix: and this is kinda the first thing hes let himself have since he officially got custody of me

rem.ix: so

rem.ix: yeah

LogicalLogan: Thank you for sharing all of that with us, Remus. I understand your concern.

Emo.Ticon: we get it, the last thing we wanna do it make roman's life harder

pat.pat: Aww, that makes complete sense!!! I would be concerned too!!

MisterJ: I get that. I'm sorry if it felt like I wasn't taking you seriously, Remus. You're right, I do care for Roman very deeply and I want to support him as best I can.

rem.ix: sorry if i was being too rude

MisterJ: No hard feelings?

rem.ix: ye we good

Emo.Ticon: wait so is our consensus basically to not get butthurt when roman picks one of us? cause that sounds a bit too ya novel for me

pat.pat: Yeah, that feels weird.

MisterJ: The name of this conversation wouldn't have anything to do with it, would it, Remus?

rem.ix: i mean i dont know if any of you are poly and im not suggesting you all date ro at the same time

rem.ix: unless?

Emo.Ticon: you are 100% exactly like roman described you holy shit

MisterJ: I'm not sure if I agree with that either.

LogicalLogan: I have an idea.

***

Honestly, just watching Roman's face as he walks through the door is enough of a reward for Remus. He almost drops his backpack from shock.

"…Re?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Why are there four extra people in our apartment?"

Remus looks around. Logan and Janus are on the couch, looking over at Roman in the doorway. Patton and Virgil are in the kitchen; Patton's looking in the fridge and Virgil's toying with the blender someone gave them as a housewarming gift that they never used. "You said I could invite people over for a movie night."

"I thought you meant your friends," Roman says quietly and Remus shrugs.

"Your friends are my friends, right?" He looks at the others. "We're friends, right?"

"Sure."

"Yeah, I think so."

"We're friends!"

"That's correct."

"See? All friends. Come help us decide what we're watching, I wanna see the new Puss in Boots, but Janny wants to see that thriller thing."

"It's the next John Wick."

Roman mouths Janny and just blinks. Then he swallows and carefully sets down his backpack, opening the door and jerking his head outside. "Remus, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Yeah, he probably should've seen this coming. He gets up from the table and goes, ducking under Roman's arm out to the hallway. Roman makes sure his keys are in his pocket and calls out a quick One moment, please!

He shuts the door and just slumps against it, breathing hard.

"What's up?"

"Remus, what's going on?"

"We're trying to figure out what movie to watch. I suggested pizza 'cause we don't have enough for a big pasta bake and Patton and Virgil decided they were gonna see if we could make it work, but—"

"Remus."

At his brother's now is not the time to fuck with me voice, he gives in. "Ro, you've been so stressed recently, I know you have."

"And so you thought it would be a good idea to invite all of them over at once? Re, our apartment isn't even clean, we don't have much food left from grocery runs, we—"

"Ro, they care about you! You said you told them all stuff and they still cared—"

"It's one thing to say you care, it's another to actually come see it!" Roman scruffs a hand over his face. "God, Remus, why didn't you ask me?"

"Because I knew you'd say no!"

"Yes! For good reason!" He glances at the door and lowers his voice a bit. "Why did you do this? Are you—is it because I haven't been spending as much time with you because of them? I'm—I'm sorry, Re, I just—"

"What? No, no, that's not it, I—fuck, Ro, sit down before you pass out."

Roman collapses so quickly Remus almost cries out. But he's fine, he's just got his head in his hands. Remus cautiously sits down next to him, their shoulders resting together like they did when they were smaller, like they did in the court room, like they did when they first moved in here. It only takes a second for Roman to sling his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

There's nowhere safer for him to be.

"I didn't invite them over because I wanted to embarrass you," he mumbles, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, "I invited them over because I know you've been stressed about all of them. They—it's not charity, Ro. I know you worry about it 'cause of—well, them—"

"I know."

"—but they really like you, Ro. Like, they all really care about you. And I…I dunno, I just wanted you to see that."

He shifts so he can look up at Roman's face.

"You try and do all of this on your own and you can't. You really can't. I know—I know you try and you do so much and I know you. I know you won't let me help 'cause you want me to be a kid still—"

"You are a kid."

"—but you can't do it on your own! And you're not alone, you've got me, you've got friends—you've got all of us. I wanted you to see that."

Roman looks at him with that expression he gets sometimes where he just looks at him like he loves him so much and it makes Remus's throat close a bit because he does. He really, really does and fuck, Remus loves him too.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you," he mumbles, looking down, "do you…do you want them to go?"

"No," and shit, Roman's hoarse which means they're both about to start crying, "they…they can stay."

"…I like 'em, Roro. They're good."

A strangled laugh. "Yeah. I like them too."

"Which one's your favorite?"

A louder laugh and Roman squeezes him closer. "You're my favorite. Always will be."

"You don't get a choice with that."

"Yeah, I do," Roman says softly and shitfuck he can feel the tears forming, "and I make it every day. I'll keep making it, too."

"Goddamnit, you're gonna make me cry."

"Join the club, little octopus."

Well, that's a good enough invitation. Remus turns and wraps his arms and legs around his brother, holding him like he'll fall off the world if he lets go. Roman holds him back just as tightly, the top of his head starting to get damp. They both sniffle and try and pull the other closer.

"I love you, Re. So much. Thank you."

"I love you too, Roro."

They sit there for another minute before Roman pulls back and wipes his face. "God. You made me cry and now I've gotta go in there and talk to them? How dare you?"

"It's not my fault you're a sappy sack of shit!"

"Yes, it is!" Roman ruffles his hair. "And you're the one who wants to watch the new Puss in Boots movie, that's all sap, no tree."

"What, so you don't wanna watch it either?"

"I didn't say that."

"Ha!" Remus crows triumphantly, smacking Roman's shoulders lightly as Roman tries to grab him. "I knew it!"

"C'mere, you—" Roman throws him over his shoulder— "there."

"Hey! Put me down!"

"Nope. Wha—hey! Don't pull my hair!"

"Put me down!"

"Fine, fine." The moment Roman sets him on his feet, he almost sweeps him off them again, hugging him so tightly he can't breathe. "I have the best brother in the world."

"No," Remus manages, trying to hold Roman back, "I do."

"Tied for first?"

"Can we order pizza?"

"You got the money for it?"

"Make one of your boyfriends do it."

"They're not my boyfriends!"

"Yet."

"Re!"

"What? Go ask them!"

"No." Roman lets him go, hands on his hips. "We're gonna go inside, pick a movie, and maybe order pizza. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Roman softens a bit, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Remus shakes his head like a wet dog, making it messier on purpose until Roman laughs. He glances at the door and puts the key in the lock, opening it and striding back inside.

"Sorry about that."

"No worries," Logan says, "I think Patton and Virgil have reached a consensus."

"Pizza," Virgil proclaims, clapping his hands, "on account of I'm a lazy college student and I want pizza."

"I got it," Patton says, already pulling out his phone, "Domino's?"

"Yes, we're getting three extra larges."

"Works for me! Toppings: go!"

"Pineapple," Logan says as Janus says, "anything but pineapple."

"Okay, so pineapple on only one pizza, got it."

"Roman," Virgil calls as the others keep bickering, "how'd your meeting go?"

Remus looks up. That's right, Roman had that meeting with the Dean and Board today about the scholarship. Roman takes a deep breath.

"They're letting me keep it," he says breathlessly, "same scholarship, same amount of financial aid, same grades."

Virgil whoops so loudly it makes Remus's ears hurt. Of course, then the others want to know what he's so happy about and then they're celebrating too.

"You pick the movie, then," Janus says, "you've earned it."

Roman pauses, glancing around as if someone's going to object, only to see them all looking at him expectantly. He doesn't seem to know what to do with that. Then he glances at Remus.

See, Remus tries to say silently, you've got people. You're not alone. We're all here for you. See?

The way Roman's smile softens says yes, I see.

"Puss in Boots it is."

"Yes!"

"Great. Janus, help me set it up?"

"Sure."

"Roman, what do you want on your pizza?"

As long as we stick together, Remus thinks as he watches Roman be happier and more at ease than he's seen in a long, long time, we'll all be okay.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @ultrageekygirl  

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit

[cherishedproperty]

Care to share five mistakes you did when you started your journey as a submissive?

Have a wonderful day!

Hi! I’ve been thinking about this for a while, in part because it’s pushed me to put myself in my old shoes. It can be hard to remember what it’s like in the beginning. And for me, it’s even hard to define the beginning. There’s when I discovered an interest in bedroom bdsm (very young), when I began to understand myself as a submissive (around 30), and when I started dating as a submissive (a handful of years ago). All were very different experiences. But here are some misunderstandings I had or mistakes I made.

Thinking 24/7 was just the kink stuff but all the time. When I was young, I remember stumbling across erotica on nonconsent or on bdsm, and it felt like a lightning bolt through my body. But I always rolled my eyes when I read about some strong business woman deciding to give it all up to be naked and waiting to suck cock all day. So I thought, if this is what being a full-time submissive means, it sure as hell isn’t me. So I rejected my submissiveness for more than a decade. I called myself a kinky girl, but I was decidedly not a submissive. Obviously, I had it wrong. You can live a “normal” life with kids and jobs and such, and be a submissive. You can be a staunch feminist and be a submissive. Maybe if I’d understood that earlier, I wouldn’t have spent so long denying a core part of myself. 

Thinking a Dominant would ooze dominance from every pore. I thought if a person was truly Dominant, you would just immediately recognize it. They’d be bold and confident and have swagger. In control. And because I thought this, I dismissed potential partners who just didn’t feel Dominant enough to me. Now I’ve dated a few Dominants that aren’t that way at all. And I’ve actually found that I prefer the ones who are more lighthearted, who listen and get to know my boundaries before making a move. The ones that immediately come across as Dominant? They have generally turned out not to be great at boundaries or respect for others. So, don’t discount the less obvious ones. They may just be waiting to earn your trust before pinning you to the wall by your throat. 

Thinking I didn’t need lifestyle friends. For the longest time, I didn’t see the point of munches and getting to know people in the lifestyle. My kink happened behind closed doors with a partner, and I didn’t see any need to change that. But once I started going to munches, I began to understand. I now have a local group of friends that are wonderful. They have supported me through the craziness of dating and have helped me to vet potential Dominants. It’s also good to have friends who get it when you say you need a spanking. 

Giving up too much that wasn’t sustainable for me. In my first serious D/s relationship, I really didn’t want to say no. Ever. I thought that a good submissive only said no when they absolutely could not do something. So I accepted a lot of things that, in retrospect, kind of made me miserable. I agreed to tasks and rules that put his wants ahead of my needs. It’s not sustainable. Life is too short to accept things in your relationship that make you unhappy. You are entitled to happiness. Safeguarding your own happiness doesn’t make you less submissive. 

Thinking there is one right way to D/s. I had an idea that, to be “real D/s”, there were a set of boxes you had to check. Rules, titles, collars, orgasm control, protocol, blowjobs on demand, etc. But none of that is a requirement of D/s. Every D/s relationship is going to look a little different, and they can change a lot over time. The biggest adjustment for me was going from long-distance D/s to in-person D/s to live-in D/s. I’ve found that I need a much higher degree of “tugs on the leash” in long-distance than I do now—tighter control, higher intensity. But that’s because I needed the mental connection. Now that Monsieur and I have been living together for two years, I feel his dominance all the time. I don’t need quite the level of reinforcement. And our dynamic has also had to evolve to fit with the life we have—kid, house, jobs. It doesn’t exist in a bubble the way my long-distance dynamic did. But that doesn’t make it any less valid. The right D/s is what’s right for the people involved, not some preconceived idea of what it’s supposed to be. 

#ask #my ask #starting out

[drawlfoy]

little secret

masterlist (will link this tomorrow maybe but check my bio)

pairing: draco x reader

summary: you try your best at changing your casual relationship with draco into something more before it’s too late. non!voldemortAU

a/n: can u guess who’s going through a break up? its me. lol. “dee stop making fics based off of your past relationships” no here read this i wrote this in less than an hour so sorry for all of the mistakes lol

warnings: nsfw content, language, drinking, angst

wc: 1.5k

It was your little secret.

Not the friends with benefits part. No, half of the school already knew that you and Draco Malfoy were shagging on a regular basis, and the oblivious other half consisted of underclassmen who were too afraid of the 7th year Slytherins to follow up on the gossip.

It wasn’t any secret how you and Draco came to be, either. You’d spent most of your life at Hogwarts as what you and Tracey playfully coined “background Slytherins”, deemed uninteresting and uncaptivating enough to deserve a seat in the middle of the table with the people who actually mattered. But you’d had a little glow-up after 6th year, growing into your awkward, lanky body and figuring out your hair. Your skin glowed now and you knew what nail lacquer to use to make your fingers appear tapered and dainty. 

When you stepped on the train platform, freshly 17 and invigorated by the promise of a new year, people actually noticed you. And by people, I mean the Slytherins. The real Slytherins, the cool Slytherins. The ones who were responsible for throwing all the parties in the common room that you were always too afraid to attend. The ones who went on extravagant group retreats when they went on holiday. And with that came Draco Malfoy’s eye. 

When you’d met, he’d recently broken it off with Pansy Parkinson. At least, I think. No one really knew what to call Draco and Pansy when they were seen together at parties, her head rested against his shoulder or his lips pressed to the crown of her forehead. Whatever it was, they were over. They were just friends. 

It started at the first Slytherin party you’d ever attended. Draco kissed you in a spin-the-bottle game, and you thought that it lingered longer than necessary. The group snickered, nudging each other for hours afterwards and pointing at the two of them. You thought it was ridiculous. You and Draco were just friends, too. It didn’t matter that you wondered sometimes what it would be like to kiss him and actually have it mean something. 

Then the jokes began. You had never been sure why the entirety of your friend group suddenly collectively decided that there was going to be a running bit that involved Draco and you dating, but all of a sudden, there it was. It started with Blaise, poking fun at the way that you and Draco looked an equal amount of disheveled one morning in the Great Hall.

“Get up to something fun last night, eh?” he joked, winking crudely. 

You played into it. You called Draco your boyfriend, your doting husband, the love of your life, all in jest. You had a habit of saying, “I’ll run it by the old ball and chain” whenever Millicent, Daphne, Blaise, or Theo invited you out to do something. Draco laughed heartily each time, chiming in as support to affectionately call you “the wife” or something of the sort.

Though it took you a while to believe he had anything but platonic affection for you, you were sure about something: there was a connection between you two that was indescribable. You could sit in the common room with him in the middle of the night, watching the fish swim by the windows and talking for hours. It was impossible for him to not make you laugh, even if you were having a horrible day. He understood you in a way no one else did. It was uncanny how the two of you accidentally said things in unison and finished each others’ sentences on the regular. 

Even if you had only been close for a few months, by November you were head over heels for him. You would’ve walked through fire to make him happy. You loved him. Even if he wasn’t in love with you, you loved him, as a person and as a fake boyfriend. And, of course, with the humble hope that he would be your real boyfriend.

So that was the little secret. The immense, pesky, soul-crushing love you felt for him that continued to persist even after he kissed you in his dorm for the first time—the time that he told you that he couldn’t do anything serious. The time that you nodded, lying that you didn’t want anything committed either. Because maybe if things were good enough, you’d be able to change his mind.

But you still loved him.

 As you lay in his bed, running your fingers up and down his back as he slept, you thought. It was supposed to be bad when you almost accidentally confessed, almost told him that you loved him when he’d played with your hair earlier that day. It was supposed to be bad that you loved someone when the situation—however you’d define it—was casual, whatever that meant. 

But it didn’t feel bad. It felt like a thrilling truth that rippled through your body, making you bask in the glow of your affection for him whenever you saw him. You loved him, and you got to hold his hand, kiss him, touch him. You got to do all of the things serious girlfriends got to do, if you don’t count the whole “being-a-serious-girlfriend” and “communicating-your-emotional-needs-efffectively” things. And you could manage that, as long as that meant that you got to keep your life with him. Because you can still change his mind and make him ask for more.

He doesn’t. He never does. As this summer nears, both the marshy grass where you and Draco stargazed over the winter and the affection between the two of you dry up. He stops touching you as much. He’s spending more time with Blaise, Theo, and, god forbid, Pansy, and you’re never invited. They’re all perfectly cordial with you, but it’s becoming clear to you once again how tightly-knit they are. They’ve always been like that, but you haven’t noticed, because you’ve been shielded by the power of Draco’s public adoration. 

It strikes you one morning, after he shrugs you off at the breakfast table and says he doesn’t feel like walking up one floor to study with you in the library for the third time that week, that you don’t know how he sees you. Ever since you two had met, you’d seen him as a special person in your life. You’d be willing to give the world for him, even if you could only be just friends. Because you love him. 

Your little secret is suddenly so much heavier.

When a week goes by without him initiating so much as a touch or a kiss on the cheek, you venture to his dorm to ask what’s wrong. His room looks different. He’s in the middle of packing. You can tell that he’s sorting between items he wants to ship to America and things he wants to send home, and it’s strange to see how little it took to dismantle the familiarity of his dorm. 

“I feel like something is off between us,” you say, sitting at his desk for the first time. You take note of the way that all the letters you wrote to him over the year are now taken off the wall. You will never lie with him in the same bed, in the same dorm, in the same situation, ever again. It’s gone. You don’t even get a chance to mourn it. “I don’t know if I’m making things up, but it…feels like you don’t like me anymore.”

“Oh,” he says. “I like you. I’m sorry if I’ve been making you feel otherwise.”

“OK.” You blink, hoping that you’ve just been oversensitive. “Well…do you still want to be with me?”

This is it. This is the moment where he’s  finally going to take the leap, to tell you that he wants more, that you’re the one for him and that he won’t let distance get in between you and—

“I’m…” He frowns, and you can see the way his nose scrunches. He only does that when he’s uncomfortable. “I’m…not sure. I’m sorry.”

The wind is knocked out of you, and suddenly you’re consumed with the need to fall down into the ground in a little ball. “What?”

“It’s America,” he explains. “It’s weird knowing that this has a definite end date. It just…it’s not the same for me anymore. It doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry.”

Definite end date? It hits you then that this was never meant to last. He was always going to end things. 

“That…that makes sense.”

“But I still like you,” he says, though considering the fact that you’ve been “casual” for 8 months, he could probably muster stronger words. “We don’t need to change things. I can…I can try…”

“I don’t want you to,” you say, and you immediately wish you didn’t. You want him to. You want him to try as hard as he can. A stray tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re struck once again by how unbothered and cool he appears. “I don’t think I want someone who isn’t sure about me.”

And even though it sucks, and even though it hurts more than anything to admit it, you mean it. And you’re hurt, too, because all of this time that he’s been drifting and choosing his other friends over you, you’ve been wondering if it was because you were less important. You soothed yourself by trying to be the cool girl, the fun, unbothered partner. He liked you, so why would he not prioritize you? You must’ve interpreted it wrong.

You’re pretty sure that your “little” secret is choking you, the sheer magnitude of your love for him wrapped around your throat and slowly contracting.

You agree to stay friends, to be affectionate still. Just no sex. But you hardly feel comfortable touching him. The way he looks like he just tolerates it makes your skin crawl. Each time you see him, it’s like your heart is torn apart anew. When you finally start avoiding him, he appears completely unbothered, as if he couldn’t care less that the person he spent almost all of 7th year attached to doesn’t see him anymore.

By the time he leaves for America, you’re angry. You’re so angry at him for wasting your time and for pretending to be your friend all this time when you don’t even matter to him, when he doesn’t even spare you an owl or a response back to any of your letters after he settles into his healing apprenticeship.

Your little secret still weighs upon you when the summer begins in earnest. You’re at Hogwarts over the summer to finish up research with Slughorn, and you’re one of the few students there. The halls are empty, but sometimes, when you’re having a bad night and just want to be held, you can see Draco’s silhouette in the common room by the windows for a moment before you blink, reminding yourself that he was never yours. He was never yours, and neither were his friends. 

But it begins to weigh less. Swims in the Black Lake, alone and unburdened, help loosen its grip on your chest. You lie on your back, floating in the middle of the water and looking up at the sky. Sometimes you go at night just to see the stars. You don’t ignore Draconis when you examine all the constellations across the night sky, but you don’t pay it any extra attention. 

Eventually, you don’t associate the lake with Draco and picnics anymore. You aren’t reminded of the way it felt to brush fingers and thighs under the table when you eat breakfast in the Great Hall. You can even walk across the marshy green without thinking of the time that you broke down when your potion’s fellowship in Romania was rejected and Draco stroked your hair under the stars, whispering all of the wonderful things you were going to accomplish into your ear.

When it is finally time to leave Hogwarts for the last time as a student, you don’t look back. Because now, when you walk through the gates, you feel the secret lift off your shoulders with the aid of the light summer breeze. 

It maybe wasn’t a little secret, you realize as you bask in the last remnants of August. It had been pretty huge. But the sheer magnitude of your devotion and love for him had never been sullied by his noncommittal touch. If you had told him how you really felt, he would have ruined it for you, wilting your capacity to care and wounding your heart.

And you didn’t. And even if your secret never really goes away, you know that it’s your secret, never to be shared with anyone else.

And that’s enough.

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

[lesless]

Some thoughts on marriage

Growing up I never really understood the idea of marriage. My mom had me at 16 or somewhere near that, & was only married briefly as a result of being pregnant with me & having a less than ideal home life, which she wanted to get out of. My dad has been married or engaged 5 or more times, though now he’s old enough not to lure in underaged girls or young women & is now happily married to a woman who I really like. My great grandparents, who I grew up with, were married over 50 years, & though they bickered I understood that they had committed to each other & my great grandpa took care of my great grandmother through her senility, hiding it until it was noticeable to all.

So, I have mixed views on the topic. On one hand, it seems insane to me to enter into a legal contract for a relationship especially considering I’m not religious in the traditional sense. On the other, I find it incredibly romantic & a statement of devotion.

I my early 20’s the only person I remember breaking up with me (who really just beat me to it, bc I was unhappy & didn’t want to be with him really) told me that the reason he didn’t want to be with me is that he “couldn’t imagine marrying” me, which to me felt stupid & I was fine with at the time (& still am, he was a mess). When I met someone I was infatuated with, he talked about how he was “going to marry that girl” in reference to the last girl he dated, during the first 6 months we were together, which really bothered me. They were together for a year or less as far as I can gather. He later admitted it was because her family had a lot of connections in the film industry, which made me feel a little disgusted by his intentions of marriage if I’m being honest.

Personally, I’ve driven hard lines in the ground with people I’ve dated. Either I’m with you or not, & with you means I’m in 100%. I’m not going to leave unless there’s some seriously extenuating circumstances, such as, my last partner had a serious alcohol problem & got really scary & mean before I decided it was safer for me to leave than stay with them.

Nowadays, I’m with someone I adore & I feel adores me back. We have been together 5 years in a few weeks, which will mark the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. Simultaneously, our family is mentioning marriage (& have been for years).

& im at this crossroads. I think both of us have some doubt about the whole concept of marriage, our families respectively having a long history of divorce & the mess that entails. But also, is that something I actually want? I’m not sure.

By now I did imagine myself with kids of my own, though I love my freedom & ability to do what I want. Marriage feels like the end of that freedom to a certain extent, but also feels like the agreement on a future, & security. We haven’t talked about it, truly. Sometimes I think my partner is working towards a more secure future for us before that, & every time he talks about the future he says US, which is also reassuring.

If he asked I would say yes, but as time rolls on & my experiences & friends get hitched after only a year or two, I do wonder if I’m just not the kind of person someone would want to marry, as that long buried ex said. Or, are people just stupid & rushing into things? Are people just agreeing to things based on their circumstances & ideology? The people I know who have gotten married, largely, also became very institutionally religious. Which, good for them, but that’s not where I am.

I suppose I’m curious what readers think of marriage. What are the criteria? What is the deciding factor? Do you just know?

I’ve also known people happily not married with children in 10+ year relationships. I suppose theres no universal right answer to any of this. Just something I’m pondering after some deeply itchy nightmares.

#me

[burnwater13]

Did Grogu want the silver knob from the end of the flight control stick from the old Razor Crest? Of course he did. He loved that thing. It looked just like Din Djarin, from a certain perspective. It was shiny. It had blue markings. It was his friend. 

Yes, toys can be friends. Almost anything can be a friend. Friendship didn’t depend on sentience and shared experience. Nope. Friendship was pretty simple. Be there. Yup. That was it. Just be there. The silver ball was great at that. 

Grogu knew from his time at the Jedi Temple that lots of people made friendships with each other. They chatted, sparred, went on adventures together, under the watchful eyes of their masters. They helped each other out. It was nice. But it was hardly uniform and when you are the littlest among the younglings and no one speaks your language and Gal Basic is too hard to speak at your age, well…, you don’t make a lot of friends like that. 

No. You make other kinds of friends. Grogu liked to make friends with the droids and mechs. They were predictable because they were programmed but that was a help to him, not a hindrance. He could tell them when to visit and when not to, so they wouldn’t get in trouble. He could set up code words and get rides from them. He could hear their high frequency comms channels and know what was going on. They made excellent friends.

He also realized, early on, when Master Kelleran had his floaty chair updated, that he could be friends with that as well. He could organize it, maintain it, care for it and it would do what he needed, when he needed it to. It was a good friend. It never let him down. He still felt bad that he had let it down. He hadn’t realized the Imps were going to throw it away when they caught him on Nevarro. Even the Nikto gang hadn’t done that on Arvala-7.

So it was pretty natural to find a thing as pretty and familiar as the knob from that flight control stick and make it his friend. It was cool and comforting. It fit in his hands. It was smooth which felt nice. And, it reminded him of the person who had rescued him twice. Well, more than twice now, but at least twice when he decided to make the knob his friend. 

Now that Din Djarin also understood that Grogu could use the Force and move things guiding its power, well, it had gone from being a friend of comfort to being a friend of joy. They could play games with it. They could toss it and catch it. They could play hide and peek. They could do so many things. Because now it was a shared friend instead of an only friend. 

Yup, Grogu knew that the Mandalorian liked playing the games. He liked having fun and he liked how Grogu’s face lit up when he caught the toy using the Force. Grogu liked the way Din Djarin smiled when they played those games as well. Grogu knew the Mandalorian didn’t realize that he could tell what facial expression Din was making just by the sound of his whiskers scratching at the inside of his helmet. But he could. He had them all worked out and he was happy about that as well. 

Grogu hoped that one day that helmet would be his friend too, but right now it wasn’t. It let him know somethings about the Mandalorian, but not enough. It still let Din Djarin hide and Grogu didn’t want him to feel like he still needed to hide from anyone. Sure, it kept his central processing unit safe and sound and that was really good, but it also kept him from feeling the touch of Grogu’s hand when he knew his protector was sad or hurt. So, not a friend. Not like the silver ball. 

No, the silver ball was a better friend than the floaty chair because it connected Grogu to Din and Din to the person who had the Razor Crest before him. Memories were coated all over the thing and Grogu had found most of them to be boring, a few of them to be funny,  a good many of them to be scary, and some of them were just heart breaking. 

He hoped that memories that he and the Mandalorian layered on that toy/friend would be happy and funny and special. They had found each other across a huge galaxy and become family and it had all started because they learned how to connect to each other. It hadn’t always been easy, but once they had that ball to provide them each with a sense of security and friendship, it had gotten much better and Grogu was glad that they had that.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #friends forever

[bevsmith]

Two and a bit years since leaving the old country

It is just over 2 years since I left South Africa and how my emotions towards that country have changed. The raw anger has been dispersed by daily life in a place where I feel safe. It is still quite a novel emotion. When you have lived for about 15 years being hyper aware of everyone and everything around you in order to immediately take action to protect yourself, it takes time to adjust to not having to do that. In fact not having to give a single thought to danger and protecting yourself. You are much more likely to have someone smile and greet you in my new life than have them attack you.

Two years ago I felt desperately relieved to have gotten out in time. Anger at having my belongings destroyed, resentment that I actually had to leave and a need to distance myself from everything South African. With time that has changed. I now embrace being South African, although with the understanding that the country I grew up in and have such fond memories of doesn’t exist any longer. I am now a human without a country. Moving countries and starting a life somewhere else is not easy.

It is a natural human need to want to belong somewhere but as a migratory human that doesn’t always work. I am surrounded by wonderful, friendly, warm people in Portugal who invite me to festivals and events that take place in the small town I live in and make me feel very welcome. But I don’t feel any sense of belonging as the culture and traditions are not familiar to me. They are strange and foreign. Interesting and mostly wonderful but not familiar. There are a lot of us migratory South Africans around the world.

I have a lot of SA friends now living in England who all feel a similar sense of not quite fitting in so over Easter this year we started a new annual tradition. On Easter Sunday we held a virtual braai during which we shared videos, pictures and chats of our separate Easter braai’s. All of us in different countries and connected only by our shared longing for the familiar. It was a spectacular success and one which we plan to repeat often. Nothing can quite replace the feeling of connecting with an old friend with shared memories and a similar background. Silly jokes are immediately understood and require no explanation.

New friends are great but are sometimes friends by proximity. Forgive how cruel that sounds but it is sometimes the truth. Of course I have met wonderful people here with whom I would be friends wherever I was, but others are by proximity. And that is also just fine. Old friends are sometimes friends for exactly that reason also. You have known one another for so long that it is not worth changing anything.

But then there are the special wonderful old friends. You know who you are and will always be treasured in my heart even though we mostly have to interact virtually now...

#southafrica #portugal #emigration #durban #belonging #safety #newbeginnings #virtual friends

[rokhal]

Life’s not fair (when your life is a horror movie): obstacles to Robbie Reyes’ identity formation in All-New Ghost Rider

In All-New Ghost Rider #11, Robbie asks Gabe’s psychologist for advice about Gabe’s uncharacteristic crankiness and sudden desire for privacy. Dr. DaCosta tries to give him a frame of reference. “He is thirteen years old. It’s an age of discovery...of wonder, insecurity, restlessness. Think about it. What were you doing when you were thirteen?”

We don’t know much about Robbie’s backstory. We know Robbie is Gabe’s legal guardian and that he’s on his own to pay the bills while trying to finish high school, which means no living family, no godparents, no family friends he can rely on. The simplest assumption is that Robbie and Gabe grew up in the foster system.

Foster kids move from household to household frequently. Gabe would have been placed with fosters prepared to care for children with special needs, but Robbie didn’t have the same needs. It is very likely that caseworkers would have considered separating the boys, and possible that they actually were separated. Robbie would have understood from an early age that contact with Gabe was contingent on his being perceived by their caseworkers as a reliable caretaker for his brother.

This is childhood parentification.

Parentification of children is usually a result of parental neglect or incapacity; in Robbie, it would be a result of the limitations of the system. Parentified children lose the opportunity to experiment, make mistakes, develop social and conflict-resolution skills through play, and accept help. They tend to be independent problem solvers; on the positive side, the early responsibility can create self-confidence; on the negative side, they may refuse or even feel threatened by offers of help. Children who are raised to fill a rigid role, like Robbie may have inadvertently been, may struggle to recognize their own emotions, personality, and values.

The human brain doesn’t fully mature until the late twenties. Robbie is still forming his personality when he meets Eli.

Required viewing: Christine (1973) dir. John Carpenter.

All-New Ghost Rider is basically what you get when you stick Christine, Rumble In The Bronx, The Fast and The Furious, Chucky, A Nightmare On Elm Street Part II, and The Wraith in a blender and hit frappé. In Christine, a teenaged boy acquires a haunted car, and the car warps his morals and personality until he becomes a reincarnation of its previous owner. There is reason to believe that this is Eli’s back-up plan or end-game when he possesses Robbie.

Borrowing from real-life plural terminology, Robbie and Eli spend a great deal of time co-fronting, each aware of each-other and of the outside world, before and after Robbie finds out about the whole hitman/satanist/serial-killer thing. First, because Eli glued himself to Robbie’s brain pretty firmly, and second, because I think Robbie is just that lonely. If we continue to crib from real-life plurality, Robbie may experience Eli’s emotions and opinions second-hand through blending and passive influence, and if we ignore the internal mechanisms that may be at play, Eli is straight-up filling his ears with terrible advice. 

Because Robbie is a parentified teenager whose brain is still developing, his ability to distinguish Eli’s emotions and opinions from his own is handicapped. 

Robbie has values, but he doesn’t have mature moral reasoning. That takes experience and study. Eli clearly doesn’t care about the morality of his own actions, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t judge other people, and with experience on his side, he can talk circles around Robbie.

Robbie’s insistence that Gabe comes before everything works to deflect Eli’s arguments for violence...until Eli hits on the idea to use Gabe’s welfare as a lever, and it suddenly doesn’t.

We haven’t even talked about the Eternal Spiritual Bond yet.

Eli states that his and Robbie’s mystical connection has become so strong that it will warp Robbie’s psychological makeup. There’s an unseemly amount of speculation available about the psychological makeup of serial killers, but imagine, if you will, a prey drive that is improperly aimed at other people instead of at turkeys or deer or any other animal that Americans pay hundreds of dollars for the privilege of hunting once a year. People can have sex drives that improperly target feet, and hunger that improperly targets rocks; why not a prey drive that improperly targets people? Something that creates positive feelings at the idea or the act of hurting other people. Imagine Robbie finding these feelings developing within himself through no fault of his own, a sort of serial-killer puberty.

But it’s not just Eli that Robbie must struggle against. He is anxious, lonely, poor, and had a childhood full of neglect and adverse experiences, all of which is a perfect set-up for depression. Depression in young men often manifests as rage.

Robbie has plenty of challenges to overcome in order to mature emotionally and learn how to maintain positive and balanced adult relationships, even without adding Eli into the mix. With Eli’s nagging, negative influence, and personality bleed-through, Robbie faces tragic and unreasonable obstacles to self-actualization. Being a Ghost Rider is a curse, and half of All-New Ghost Rider’s literary heritage is horror movies. He cannot survive his relationship with Eli without damage, and even if they can be separated, that damage will take considerable time and effort to heal–time and effort that his responsibilities may never allow.

One common consequence of childhood neglect and parentification is unwillingness to accept outside help. Robbie’s independent streak is clearly portrayed, but he seems to hold people at a distance and fails to recognize when people are genuinely looking out for him. This is a weakness that Eli exploits, and an opportunity for Robbie to strengthen his resistance if he recognizes this and begins reaching out to people more worthy of his trust.

#robbie reyes #all-new ghost rider #meta #my meta #eli morrow

[what-if-rpg]

↪ Have you heard about MERCEDES JONES? SHE is 31 and hails from LIMA, OHIO. Looks exactly like AMBER RILEY, and is TAKEN.

“Don’t lose who you are, in the blur of the stars. Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing, it's okay not to be okay. Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart. Tears don’t mean your losing, everybody’s bruising, just be true to who you are.”

↪ IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Mercedes Amara Jones DATE OF BIRTH: November 19 SEXUALITY & GENDER: Bisexual & Female RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Dating Sam Evans POSITIVE & NEGATIVE TRAITS: Hardworking, Loyal & Kind. Stubborn, Smartass & Workaholic. OCCUPATION: R&B Artist and Actress CITY: Los Angeles, CA

↪ HEADCANONS:

Mercedes had known she wanted to sing from the moment she could talk. Her mother said at the age of two she was singing along with all the old-school divas.. i.e. Patti, Aretha, and Chaka Chan. She could remember from a young age, she would perform for her family. Though singing was great, she wanted to be more than just her voice, so she learned how to play the piano, and how to write music. It was her passion and when she found out about Glee she decided to join. The moment she joined Glee she really felt like she belonged. Glee was a way for Mercedes to express herself musically and try to figure out what she really wanted in life.

After Graduation, Mercedes had a bit of a rough time getting her foot in the door, and when she did think she had made it she found they wanted her voice but not her look. While some people would have been discouraged, Mercedes went home and back to her roots with Glee to realize that she was more than her voice and if they didn’t want her looks, they couldn’t have her talents. Heading back to LA, Mercedes worked hard selling her CDs on the side of the road and when she was finally recognized for her talents, she truly felt blessed. She even got her first tour, and even though it was a mall tour, it was everything.

Mercedes's career took off in a huge way when she was offered a chance to go on Tour with Beyonce. Mercedes learned a lot that she would carry with her on her way to stardom. She also spent her downtime from the tour writing songs for her second album. After the release of Mercedes's second album, she truly made a name for herself. She won her first four Grammy’s off of her Album “Pieces of Me”. And now she is as known and popular as Beyonce, Whitney, and all of her favorites growing up. With 5 sold-out world Tours, Numerous awards, 3 movies, and a host of guest appearances, Mercedes has yet to slow down, which is clear by the fact she was just returned home after being in London for 9 months playing “Effie White” Dreamgirls on The West End. She knew it was going to be hard but it was a once and a lifetime chance for her.

When it came to Mercedes's love life, she knew Sam was her first true love, he got her in a way no one else could. Leaving for 9 months, was hard she hated being away from Sam and her family and friends, but she knew they understood and supported her. Now that she’s back, making time for friends is important to her and whenever she can she makes sure to encourage and help them in as many ways as she could.

As of right now, Mercedes is starting to want more from life than just working and so she is taking time away to figure out her next steps.

↪ IMPORTANT CONNECTIONS:

MRS. & MR. JONES (Parents): Mercedes loves her parents, even when they don’t see eye to eye. Even though they were against her singing at first, it was clear just how talented their daughter was and now they are her biggest fans and supporters. LEVI JONES (Brother): Mercedes loved her brother. He was the one person outside of her best friends that she knew had her back no matter what. He rooted for her even when their father forbid her from leaving. He gave her the money for her ticket to LA, he was and still is her encouragement to continue to move forward in her life. SAM EVANS (Boyfriend): Mercedes had not dated that many men after she and Sam broke up, though there were few, none of them touched her like Sam, and none of them pushed her to be the best version of herself as he did. The distance and time had always gotten in the way of what they could be, should they get another chance at truly being together, she really hopes they could go the distance and now, because she is ready for marriage and kids and for a future no matter where that might lead. KURT HUMMEL, AND QUINN FABRAY (Best Friends): Though Mercedes and Kurt became best friends in what seemed like overnight, she and Quinn needed a bit more time, but soon those two became closer than blood to her. Mercedes knows that she can tell them anything and not only will they be supportive but they will help her in any and all ways that she would need them. Life may have taken them on different paths but one thing remains true, their friendship will never die.

#Mercedes Jones #Amber Riley #Char #Char: Taken #Char: Canon #Canon: T #Char: F #Fam: Jones

[mscudilove]

Experiencing Myself

I am that girl. The one I came here to become. Years ago as a little girl, I understood that life is about self discovery. Seek within yourself to find your purpose! I am the universe discovering who I am and what my journey is in this lifetime. If love is the answer, then truth is the question. Those who are here for love live in truth and anything else is deception.

Fellow travelers are on their journey and respectfully I wish them love. I am here to connect to those who are on the journey to self discovery and higher consciousness. About a dozen years ago I traveled alone across the ocean to explore Europe. It was scary to fly from San Francisco to Frankfurt Germany alone without anyone by my side. Thinking about it now I can't believe I almost didn't go.

I believed in myself, my ability to connect with strangers and the protection of my ancestors. Honestly I felt like I was dying on the descend down after 14 hours, it felt like my head was going to explode. My father had aneurysm in his thirties and losing my big sister to such a thing at the height of her career is traumatic. I take care of my health and still live like today can be my last, because you never know. Fear is not something I will ever let control my life.

One day I will return with the love of my life, when she's old enough to appreciate the history and the connection to Espana y Francia and Germany. Also to the sadness of world war 1 and 2. Recently I started watching a series called All The Light We Cannot See and it is everything a great story can be. I truly love Paris and it's vintage vibe. When I drove through the South of France up to Paris & Belgium it felt like I had lived a lifetime there before.

To be honest I feel like it's time to plan a long trip across the Atlantic. I want to reconnect with the friends I made in France and just explore more down to Southern Spain. I also want O to meet the people that were so loving and accepting of a strange Chicana kid from California. One thing I will be eternally grateful for is Patricia, if it wasn't for her adventurous soul I would have never taken advantage of such a life changing experience!

#love #life #forever #memories #californiagirl #familia #spiritual ascension

[yoan-portfolio]

Platonic Soulmates: The Hottest Non-Sexual Relationship

“Maybe we could be each other’s soulmates. And then we could let men be just these great nice guys to have fun with.” said Sex And The City’s Charlotte – if only it was that easy!

Longtime fans of the show will know of the special connection between the four lead women – and undeniably it is one to be envied. In a world where romantic relationships often take the spotlight, one type of connection often goes unnoticed and unappreciated—the bond between platonic soulmates. 

However, is it really possible to feel a platonic intimacy strong enough to make romance feel like an afterthought? And how can love – ever-demanding, survive with not being number one?

Stylana’s Story

“When we met I felt an instant connection.” said 22 year-old law student, Stilyana Petkova, when talking about her best friend of 8 years.

“I felt a relationship forming which would last for a long time. In a while I realised it’s something for life – after all, we are all constantly looking for that one person who is so similar to us. 

“Eventually it hit me – this shit is special, it’s something between us – more than a friendship, a connection. I didn’t feel the need for a partner, since I had my partner in crime”

Romance is not everyone’s cup of tea – in fact some of us aren’t into tea at all. However, you can’t help but feel lonely in the hours of night, when you are by yourself, trying to fill a double bed. 

Stilyana admits that during her time with friends, she barely wished for a relationship, until her group took separate paths after college and isolation hit her.

“I felt all alone and like my time had come, a bit like an old maid. When you are torn from your circle, without someone around you 24/7, you feel like you need something more.

“I was vulnerable – me against the world, without the safety net of my friendship, which I never realised I even had.”

It’s in these moments of isolation that the Tinder icon feels like the Holy Grail. It’s normal to make ourselves feel better through our relationships with others. If they are a substitute for inner joy, things can get tough.

Let’s face it – we’ve all had impossible standards when it comes to dating – either deriving from books, films, or previous experience. A handsome young CEO, the sexy vampire who wants to spend eternity with you… the tropes are endless.

Anyhow, once you have felt the pang of a platonic connection that was just meant to be, these standards don’t seem as high anymore. After all, you already have someone for life, how much is it to ask for one more?

“Sometimes I feel like it’s made me not want to work for a relationship.” said Stilyana

“It took me more time to open up to people romantically because I didn’t feel an inner urge.

“Eventually, you reach a point where you realise the person next to you will need a long time to understand you, the way you are already used to being understood by your platonic soulmate.”

Patience can be tricky, however, and we are all, more or less, quick to lose our cool amidst the heat of romance. Stilyana argues that we can be more compromising with friends, because of the expectations we project on our romantic partners.

“With romantic partners, it’s easy to set impossible standards, see them as Ken dolls. Maybe I’m just a psychopath?” she laughs.

“When you throw in feelings, you get something which is not as gratifying as the platonic connection. It’s not that almost familial relationship you get with friends, I feel very alert, guarding my feelings.

“You feel wary because you give more of yourself, but don’t necessarily receive more. It’s a bit of a power play. “

There is a sense of ease in the concept of platonic soulmates. The comfort that you have someone to share your life and grow old with – without any of the stress that you’ll find them banging your sister when you come home from work early.

And if it’s in the stars for you, maybe you have found a connection, which is beyond space and time:

“We are still best friends, and with time I realised it’s something that can transcend distance, which definitely helped me.” said Stilyana

“I’m not sure I’m looking for a soulmate, since I have one – just a special relationship. It’s hard to imagine I will find a kindred spirit in a man.

“That sounds kinda girlboss!” she flips her hair promptly.

In the end, we should all treasure our friends – soulmates or not, they are the ones to text when you need to get out of a bad date, the ones to watch your favourite series with when you’re down, the ones to hold your hair up while you puke after a night out…

And as Carrie summarised it at the end of the same Sex And The City episode – they make the bumpy ride to romance all the more enjoyable: 

“Having three soulmates already nailed down made it a lot easier to spot those great nice guys to have fun with.”

[feelingsmixed]

Running up that hill

Three times a week, I go running. Not particularly long or particularly fast, I don’t set goals for improvement or anything of that kind - I just run. However, spending a considerably amount of your time running necessarily leads to thinking about running as well. I also spend a lot of time reading, and eventually, I thought I would like to read about running. However, I could only find books written by men on the subject. “Why are there no books about women running?” I complained to my boyfriend. A couple of weeks later, Amalie Langballe asked the same question in Weekendavisen. Training for a Marathon, she similar to me had been unable to find satisfactory literary accounts of women running. Why does the gender of the author matter? Langballe points to that 1) these cismen know nothing of running with period pains or trying to find a fitting sports bra and 2) that these accounts often get very man-ish, lofty, and pretentious. She names the running classic What I talk about when I talk about running by Murakami as an example.

Despite this pretentiousness, I enjoyed reading Murakami’s What I talk about when I talk about running, but then I came to this section where he describes being passed by female runners on his jog:

Fatigue has built up after all this training, and I can’t seem to run very fast. As I’m leisurely jogging along the Charles River, girls who look to be new Harvard freshmen keep on passing me. Most of these girls are small, slim, have on maroon Harvard-logo outfits, blond hair in a ponytail, and brand-new iPods, and they run like the wind. You can definitely feel a sort of aggressive challenge emanating from them. They seem to be used to passing people, and probably not used to being passed. They all look so bright, so healthy, attractive, and serious, brimming with selfconfidence. With their long strides and strong, sharp kicks, it’s easy to see that they’re typical mid-distance runners, unsuited for long-distance running. They’re more mentally cut out for brief runs at high speed.

When Murakami himself is running, it is connected to his creation of art, to existential questions, almost to the human condition. When he sees women running though, he silently mocks them for their competitiveness, while at the same time admiring how they look. That he himself participates in multiple races a year where he cares a great deal about his performance, is apparently an entirely different case.

Whenever women runners do appear in literature, them running is always a sign of something being wrong with them. In Samlade verk by Lydia Sandgren, the main character Martin’s wife has purposefully disappeared without a trace. Prior to the disappearance, she was a runner, and in the story, these two facts appear connected. She runs long-distance because she is obviously running from something. As such, running appears as a compulsory, almost pathological, activity. It is not only in literature that running women are viewed with suspicion. At a party, I mentioned this to some friends. Sara mentioned the famous photo of Kathrine Switzer who in 1967 joined the Boston Marathon as the first woman runner. To avoid drawing attention to herself, she wore a hoodie. When it fell off, she was attacked by fellow male runners who wanted to stop her participation. Simon added an anecdote from the book Born to run about a woman in a small town in USA who starts running long distances. Everyone in the town thinks there is something wrong with her; in reality, she just likes running.

When women exercise isn’t view as proof of something being wrong with them, it is most often seen as a sign of her attempt to conform to beauty standards. In her essay Always be optimizing, Jia Tolentino analyzes the history of women’s self-optimizing, arguing that the recent decade’s proliferation of fitness culture should be understood as a continuation of the age-old pressure for women to mold their bodies in a certain way. We might have re-termed it to be about being ‘strong’ or ‘healthy’, but this is essentially what it is about. While I think there is a lot of truth in Tolentino’s diagnosis, which also includes a critique of the billion-dollar fitness industry and the way this optimizes our participation in capitalism, I think she is a tad pessimistic or determinist about women’s relationship to sports. Can’t we have a genuine interest in the sports discipline we partake in or truly enjoy the rush following physical exhaustion?

Of course, running is not only about the activity in itself (is there any activity there is?). But how come, for women, it must necessarily be connected to mental illness or body issues while for men, it is connected to art and existential questions? But the bigger question is, why are there so few women who write about running when evidently, there are so many women who run? One answer could be that women have less time than men due to our disproportionate participation in reproductive labor. Journalist Anders Legarth wrote the book Jeg løber [I run] based on a column series he wrote in the newspaper Politiken about starting to go long-distance running as a way to cope with the tragic death of his six-year-old daughter. I read the column sporadically and while I was sympathetic to it, I couldn’t help but think about what his wife was doing all those hours he was running – I guess she was probably taking care of their other two children. Perhaps women don’t feel the same need to write about every single hobby they pick up as something life changing. Or maybe it is just me who has not found the books yet. I will continue searching.

References:

Langballe, Amalie. 2023. ‘Afdæmpede besyngere’. Weekendavisen.

Legarth, Anders. 2018. Jeg løber. Politikens Forlag.

Murakami, Haruki. 2009. What I talk about when I talk about running. Vintage.

Sandgren, Lydia. 2020. Samlade verk. Albert Bonniers förlag.

Tolentino, Jia. 2019. ‘Always be optimizing.’ In Trick Mirror: Reflections on self-delusion. Random House.

[billconrad]

Why I write

    Writing fiction is supposed to be fun. An author can do anything. Write about a big space adventure? Sure! How about a crime drama set in the old west? No problem, knock yourself out. But what about writing fiction for money? Well, it’s still supposed to be fun because you can write about anything. One would imagine it’s like being a race car driver and being paid to have fun racing around a track. It’s the same thing. You pen something up, and then people, ohh and ahh over your fantastic words. Then somebody sends you a check. Simple. Right? That was supposed to be my motivation…

    I began writing with the goal of profit for a seemingly unlikely reason. They laid me off. Sunstrand (Pratt and Whitney, a division of UTC) dissolved their San Diego location. I could see what was going to happen long before my coworkers suspected there was a problem. The company was in such poor shape that I sent my resume out six weeks after I started working there. There were rumors and all kinds of plans to keep the place going. In the end, I worked there for two years. The work was good. I made several friends.

    After they laid me off, I began working part-time for a medical product development company. This work was sparse, and there was little money, but it kept me sane. For many years, I had several stories I wanted to write and thought about them often. One day when I was not working, I wrote up my best three ideas. I had great hope that these three books would lead to instant cash. Unfortunately, I was naïve about how publishing worked.

    It was time to publish my three ideas, and I started with my first one, Interviewing Immortality. My first step was to have my mother edit them. She has a lot of English talent, and this helped me immensely.

    After I did a beta edit, I was ready to make a profit. At that time, I had written three books, and surely one would be popular. Obviously, the Internet would provide a simple path to profit. Just send the Microsoft Word document off to hundreds of publishers. One of them would like it, and they would send me a big fat check. There is probably a website that will do all of this! Instant payday!!!

    Well, sending your book off to publishers no longer works that way. In fact, it never worked that way, but it is a delightful dream. The reality was that publishers “do not accept unrepresented manuscripts.” (Hey, quick author’s tip. Publishers call your book a manuscript. It makes them sound sophisticated.) Getting someone to represent your work is expensive and nearly impossible. Then, after somehow getting a book represented, they want at least 20% of your profit.

    It was pure luck that I got connected with a self-publisher helper who convinced me to try self-publishing on Amazon. The problem was that I had to use my money to get the ball rolling. And again, I thought that after this simple self-publishing step, the fat checks would magically appear. I quickly learned that Amazon self-publishing does not work that way. A smart individual like myself would probably have done some background research on self-publishing.

    So, I had a book on Amazon and needed to get the word out. In my natural state, I’m a quiet person. I didn’t have a Facebook account or other online presence. (Well, a few patents… But that is another painful story.) But, I quickly understood and began building my outward personality. There were ~100 sites for promoting books, and I found ~30 free sites. That was a start, but there was no solid audience connection.

    I had always wanted to start a blog. This seemed like a fun thing to do. When I signed up for Goodreads, there was a blog section. This seemed like a good idea, and I decided to give it a stab. Hopefully, people will enjoy my ramblings and want to learn more. BUY MY BOOK!! ITS LIKE THIS BLOG BUT MUCH BETTER!!!

    But this still does not answer the blog title question. Why do I write? I find ideas easy, and I can quickly write them up. For the moment, I also have the time.

    Do I get any joy out of the process? That is a more complex answer. How cool was it when I did an internet search and came up with my name as an author? The answer was: so-so. There was also not much joy in telling my friends about my book. I wrote for two years, and they did not know what I was doing until I showed them a copy. One friend shook my hand, which was a nice gesture.

    The true answer to this question comes from a strange place. After I have written a book, I self-edit many times. Tighten a sentence, add a concept, clarify, delete, and re-arrange. Each time I go through my book, I experience the story again. It may sound strange, but I feel happy while editing. The story is familiar, and I know entirely what is happening within the words. I can fully picture what the character is doing and feeling. There is a comfort level to the editing process. Similar to putting on shoes that you have had for a long time. They fit, they work, they get you to where you are going, and I know for an absolute fact that they will protect my feet.

    There was an unexpected end to this warm feeling. I had to let the book fly out of the nest at some point. The edits had to stop, and I braced myself for the reaction. Will they like it? Will they hate it? In my case, I have had mostly positive feedback with my book, Interviewing Immortality. (Hey, quick author’s tip. Mention your book a lot. Repetition leads to sales.) The real issue is getting others interested and then having them tell their friends.

    Well, there you have it. I like to re-read my work, and that’s probably the strangest answer for why a person wants to write. It makes me wonder if other writers get joy out of self-editing. I read an interview in high school about an author who loved their characters. I thought this was weird at the time, but I recently thought a lot about this statement, and it now makes more sense. I have an attachment to the characters I create, but I would not use the word, “love.” A better word is “relate.”

    This is a strange way to end my first blog entry. With some luck, there will be many more blogs to follow. One last thing. BUY MY BOOK. Seriously, not having full-time work is killing me. I need the money! Spending $2.99 will really help. Putting a review online will help me out even more.

    You’re the best -Bill

    February 22, 2023

[funnywiccanwritingcorner]

Le Joyau le plus precieux

A Lucky Luke Modern!AU fanfiction

Chapter XVI - Miss Smith

-Let's go back to the points of the plan.- Early in the morning, Joe and Luke had started to study the plans of what they understood to be an underground base: an external first floor served as the entrance, but most of the structure had been built at the bottom, counting some ten floors joined by two lifts, one on the north side and one on the south side. The names of the various rooms, in Cyrillic, were those of the time of construction: the lowest level was the prison, above it two floors constituted the soldiers' quarters, another the kitchen and canteen; the common room, armoury and officers' quarters were located higher up. Below the entrance was an empty level, simply called "ST", and Lucky suggested that it would probably be used as a reception area for guests.

-The only way to get from one floor to another are these lifts. Assuming they're guarded, the only way to get Mason out is to create a diversion; but before that: how do we get him away from the party?- -I can take care of that, Joe. I brought my best costumes for that.- -Good. And for the guards?- Lucky stared at the computer screen for a long time. -The fire alarm? That could be a great distraction.- -No. We cannot predict the reactions of the guests. If they blocked the entrance to the lifts en masse, that would be trouble. Hmm... What about trying to get out more discreetly using Mason of all people?- -Explain yourself better.- -The dungeons...- Joe pressed the button to zoomed in on the plan on the screen from the keyboard, -they're ideal for storing items to sell. If we could convince Mason to take us there for a quick preview, let's call it that, he'd have to take us down in the lift. But once we're there, we'll stun him, get him back into the cabin and ride up to the main entrance, moving in the shadows with our man; from there, stealing a vehicle and slipping out should be easy. What do you think?- -That sounds like a good plan. We have to make it foolproof, though.- Someone knocked on the door of the room; a boy's voice announced something in Russian.

-I'll go.- Lucky opened the door, tipped what Dalton identified as a bellhop, thanked him, and returned with a yellow paper bag in his hand. -What is it?- -Our ticket, literally. I contacted an old friend who owed me a favour; in here is our invitation to the auction.- -Is it a fake?- -Only for the names. Let's say that honour among thieves is not dead yet.- He left the envelope on the table, next to the computer: -I'll go prepare our disguises.-

Curious, the detective immediately opened the yellow paper with his index finger and pulled out a white card with a gold border. In the centre was written in fine cursive "Miss Aether Smith and companion". -Hey, Luke, how come there's a woman's name here?- asked Joe, looking up just in time to see the other pull a dark red dress with shoulder pads out of the suitcase: -How do you say?- -But... What about that?- -It's my disguise.- -Are you joking?- -No. It's the best option to get Mason to do what we want; he has a thing for pretty girls.- -How do we deal with the fact that you don't exactly have a female voice?- -That's where Nat's technology comes in.- From the suitcase he took a silver necklace with a large diamond in the centre: -Inside the gem there's a voice converter connected wirelessly to a waterproof microphone to be placed under the tongue. Once calibrated, it will transform my voice into that of a woman.-

-Ah. Ingenious. And what will you do for the body?- -Body?- -You're thin and have no curves.- -Oh. For that I have the right "padding". If you give me some time to change, I'm sure I'll amaze you.- -It'll be a sight to see how you try to pull up your stockings!- Dalton joked, but Lucky denied him with his forefinger: -I'm going to the bathroom; it's a delicate operation.- -Whatever. One last question, though: what is that "companion" supposed to stand for?- -Bodyguard. A rich, lonely young woman at a party is likely to have unwanted encounters, don't you think?- he joked. -Just as long as you don't make me wear weird wigs.- -An Afro with curls, for example?-The ex-agent chuckled. -Don't worry, I was thinking of something more discreet.-

-Good.- The Skype icon flashed on the computer screen, and when Joe went to open it, the big smiling faces of his brothers filled the entire webcam window, then they exclaimed: -Hey!!!- -I only see your noses. How's it going?- -Everything's fine!- said Averell, and then turned to his own right, -Come on, Betty, we made it!- -I'm coming!-The psychologist's voice anticipated his entry into the field of vision: -Hi!- -How is the plan going?- William asked. -We are putting the finishing touches before we go into action. Less than four days to go now.- -You know, the boss started asking questions about your absence- said Jack, a little worried, -We told him that you're following a lead on Lucky Luke and that you're checking its validity, like you told us to do.- -Good. Keep telling everyone that. But let's change the subject; Averell, Betty: you have something different.- The two of them took each other by the hand: -Actually, Joe, something has happened!- exclaimed the younger man, and she brought her left hand closer to the screen: a pretty little diamond ring was showing off around her ring finger. Joe's jaw seemed to almost drop in surprise, and he slowly smiled as he recovered: -Nooo... That's my little brother! So now it's official!- -Yes!- exclaimed Betty, bursting with joy from every pore and hugging her boyfriend. -But how? I go away for a day and there you get married?- -It's just the proposal, Joe- retorted Jack. -Whatever.- -We still have to decide the date and other details- continued Averell, -but we've already decided that all three of you will be my groomsmen!-

Before Dalton could answer, Lucky called him from the bathroom: -Joe! Can you come in for a moment?- -Excuse me guys, I'll just be a minute.- -Go ahead, we have to get back to work anyway- said William, -Catch you later!-

-See you later.- He closed the window and joined the other: -What's going on?-He was wide-eyed at seeing Luke wearing that suit. He had already adjusted the chest and bottom prostheses, as well as pulled up the smoky grey tights; the heels that matched the dress lay dishevelled next to the dirty laundry basket. Neatly arranged on the sink top were make-up and three women's wigs in different colours. Lucky's back was to him, and he did not see his expression. -The zip on the dress is jammed; will you help me?- the ex-agent continued, holding up the bodice of the dress. Without saying a word, Joe walked over to him and started fiddling with the little zip that just wouldn't budge. Eventually, however, he managed to slide it upwards: -Done.- -Thank you very much. One last thing.- Still without looking at him, he pointed to the wigs: -Which one inspires you more? A saucy blonde or a seductive brunette?- -Uh... Brunette. I don't see you as blonde.- -Good.- When he finally turned towards the detective, he noticed that he had a strange face: -Are you all right? You're all red.- Without answering, Dalton walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, then inhaled deeply and exhaled forcefully, undecided whether to collapse or burst out laughing.

-This damn rain just won't stop...- Joe looked out of the room window with a frown. -Good thing the hotel allows us to order from outside, or we'd have to skip lunch.‖ Lucky, changing again, grabbed his mobile phone: -I'll check which restaurants do take-out menus.- Dalton didn't answer him, going to sit on the bed and rummage through his suitcase: -You could test Nat's microphone while you're at it.- -Good idea.- The detective found the pack of cards he was sure he had brought with him, and taking them out of the box began to shuffle them. His back was turned to the other, but he heard him rehearsing voice modulation. On the first attempt a sort of squeak came out, as if he had inhaled helium; Joe stifled a laugh. Luke noticed this, lowered his tone with the small knob behind the fake shine, and sneeringly began speaking in a deep voice, imitating an opera singer. At that point the detective could no longer resist, and began to laugh with great relish. Shifting the knob again, Lucky adjusted it to a childlike voice, similar to Amélie's, and Joe let himself fall backwards onto the bed holding his stomach, dropping the cards beside him, unable to contain himself. -I'd say it's working- concluded the former officer, turning off the device for a moment, -Take a breath.- The detective tried to follow the suggestion, but with difficulty recovered to answer him: -You must think I'm a fool... To laugh for so little...- -Not at all. On the contrary, I am glad to put you in a cheerful mood; it seemed to me that this weather was demoralising you.- -Not at all. I get bored when it rains, even if I'm busy or with company.- Luke nodded, approaching him: -Later we'll resume work. Now tell me, though: do you like spring rolls?-

#lucky luke #joyau #joe dalton #modern au #fanfiction