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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 6

summary ;; This is the reality of Jake Sully: the father and Olo'eyktan of the People cannot coexist, Eywa teaches her lessons in the toughest ways. PART 5 | NEXT (wip) pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; well this took a hot minute. am back on my bs WARNING for violence and t0rture, reader discretion is advised. Please excuse my mistakes if you see any!

Jake moved on pure primitive instinct, unbridled arctic rage honing all his senses into one laser point of focus. It wasn’t survival, and it surely wasn’t prey running from predator, there was nothing noble about what he was trying to achieve.

That avatar was going to die today, and Jake was going to make it hurt. No fair game. No warrior’s death. No respect.

Devoid of the shape of humanity or the ties that bound him to it, he was the embodiment of a creature’s killer intent, body taking over and consciousness disappearing to the backseat as he catapulted his tomahawk at the avatar, taking advantage of the miniscule opening provided by a magazine change needed after emptying all of his bullets to a Jake luring him into wasting his resources away.

The dull squelch of the hand-carved ax’s head plunging into flesh couldn’t be dampened by the avatar’s choked and short shout, and Jake was jumping out of cover in no time, a bull to red, advancing towards the man, footsteps not hidden out of having no concern for it at all, let him panic or try to struggle for all Jake cared.

Opposite of what he expected, the rifle wasn’t picked up or fumbled to aim at him. The avatar, pale in the face and pupils having devoured the yellow, fear trumping the pain of his arm almost sliced off from shoulder, crawled away on his back from Jake in full speed, getting up before Jake could reach him, and started staggering into the forest, dropping the tomahawk in the process.

Jake stopped in his tracks for a moment and picked his weapon up, the dark liquid glistening purple in the light of the Tree of Souls, droplets of blood making the moss light up as they hit the ground. His chest heaved in controlled, loud breaths, mouth pulled back in a snarl, watching the pathetic son of a bitch trying to get away.

He was one of the lot who’d shot you, hurt you, tortured you — simply to get a reaction out of Jake.

He was the one who pulled Jake away before he could fix his mistakes, undo the damage they had done, and get you back.

Jake was so close. So close.

You were there. You were right there. He could still feel you in his arms, his shoulder imprinted with your tears, shiest of smiles at a better future he could build with you from the burnt soil of your relationship.

If it hadn’t been for him…

That man was your murderer.

He deserved the hell of a father’s making.

This avatar was a marine — and the fucking idiot was running into the oblivion blind worse than a normal civilian would in this situation, had all those years of training evaporated in one second? Jake’s steps were determined, yet lax following after the guy, nose picking up the trail of blood left behind, eyes watching the red splatters. This was all Hansel and Gretel for him, playing follow the breadcrumbs.

The sound of thumping, frantic running, bumping into obstacles, crashing into flora, all was distinguishable from the natural song of the forest Jake had gotten so familiar with in these fifteen years. No response came from the avatar, but Jake wasn’t hurrying. He would have him. Let the bastard tire himself out first — but he wouldn’t let him die. No. He could smell the fear, the blood, anger at bay, all ice, knowing the trees would carry all the sounds he needed to Jake. He could hear exactly where the avatar was. and If he was hoping he’d bleed himself out faster than Jake could reach him to save himself from what was going to happen, well…

He’d better start praying for mercy to whatever deity held his worthless faith, because Jake had none of it. They had no mercy for you, his sinless, innocent child, all but wails and yelps and blood, and apologies for it.

Every time Jake thought of you in that tremendous pain to the brink of delirium, he burned in his heart’s ice until he was black and purple all over. Your smile was so real, your embrace was tiny and warm in his arms and he had a chance, the only chance no parent could ever get in this life. Jake had dissolved together with that mirage.

The part of him engulfed in flames wanted to end this quickly and painfully—to burn it all, break that man in, scream his lungs out, the other part of him, frozen fury that scalded over in the loss of you, wanted to draw it out, wanted to inflict never-ending pain, to bring the avatar back from the brink of death over and over again just to repeat it in a cycle.

His child. His baby.

The ties that held Jake together were getting pulled tight, the pressure building like deep water currents, thinner threads snapping and crackling, body being pulled to all five directions from all five limbs. Awareness went out and barged its way back in hot flashes, he couldn’t comprehend the passing of time and how long he let your murderer catch the delusion of shaking Jake off his tail — but, his instincts knew to reveal himself before the avatar could be claimed by blood loss.

Dangling hope right in front of his face just to snatch it away wasn’t enough. It could never be enough compared to you who had dragged your own corpse back home, muted to your own pain cocooned between those who should have meant nothing but home and safety to you. Torture. You had lived torture in your last hours with help just one step, one word away.

Nothing would ever be enough.

Jake emerged from the thick flora like the grim reaper himself who would always be waiting right at the spot of the reaping wherever the soul ran away to, detached and unimpressed, blank face not reflecting the scorched soul inside. The almost passed out avatar jolted awake when he smelled the smoke from Jake’s shadow falling on him, and could only press his back further to the body of the cluster of big rocks he had taken shelter against as if somehow becoming one with it could shield him away from Jake’s wrath.

The man’s breathing was getting louder and shakier the more Jake stood there motionless. “C’mon then,” he said between clenched teeth, spasming hand dropping from his mutilated shoulder, squaring up the last drops of his courage. “Get on with it.”

Jake’s whitened fingers were making noise against the handle of his tomahawk, but his voice was hauntingly hollow, unfeeling now that he had the man right in his palm. “Thought I should let you live what you did to my daughter first.”

The avatar began to scream. “Fuck you, man, we didn’t do none of this shit to that kid—”

Jake’s tone didn’t change, but it cut worse than a knife. “You killed my kid.”

His eyes widened, breath hitching, the reality of what was coming to him finally sinking in and Jake witnessed every panicked second of it. “Fuck…” His gaze wildly alternated between Jake and the tomahawk, raising his better, trembling hand up for feeble defense. “Look, look, listen, we didn’t kill her, alright? We patched her up, okay, she was going to be a prisoner, what happened happened because you engaged in battle, we wouldn’t do that to a—AGH!”

He was interrupted by Jake sharply shoving the head of the tomahawk into his injury, just putting it in there, not moving it further down. “Do you have children, marine?”

The man palmed at the weapon, fingernails digging into the wood, but no matter how much he pushed, it didn’t budge one bit. “Stop, stop! Fuck—”

Jake repeated again, firmer. “I asked you a question, do you have children?”

“No!— No, god, argh!”

He spaced out for a while, watching him squirm and trash to get away with defeated, half-assed attempts, also unable to because of how much of an immovable object Jake was making the weapon buried in the open wound be. It would hit the bone if he used more strength.

With a fixed, stony stare, Jake removed the tomahawk, waiting for the man’s deplorable whimpers to recede before breaking him the news like reading it off a doctor’s report. “You won’t get to have any.”

He didn’t look like he cared about something like that, but the man knew his fate insinuated by the words. Nevertheless,it didn’t mean he could be free from the survivor’s instinct’s mood swings his body was putting him through. Denial to bargaining within minutes. “Just kill me already, you deserter piece of—”

“Oh, no, no no,” Jake reassured, the only flicker of emotion he had shown since he’d cornered the avatar. “You won’t get to die for a long time, either.”

The avatar grunted, head falling down before he started to shake it. “Please just let it end—man, just let it end, I’m sorry, okay, please!” A whole body-trembling begging shifted to anger the more Jake remained non-responsive. Watching. Just watching. The hole in his chest getting wider the more he fed this man’s suffering to it — it wasn’t enough. “Just fucking do it! Pussy ass bitch! Come on you blue motherfucker, kill me! Kill m—”

“Are you the one who shot my daughter?”

“What?”

“Are you. The one. Who shot my daughter?”

The avatar’s face twisted. “It wasn’t me—it wasn’t—asshole, you already killed the guy, I didn’t fucking do anything!—”

“You... didn’t do anything?”

A beat. The forest fell silent in Jake’s ears. Just like how the noises you made had abruptly died down as he was putting pressure on your wound.

And like that, the thick haze that had Jake desensitized blew over, unadulterated anger rushed to his body, acidic and nauseating, soul stitching back to his limbs by a million needles and he began to shake, face contorting, teeth showing itself, the hiss that lacerated his throat was the most terrifying one of his life yet, it didn’t sound like it belonged to a sentient being, twisted by a grieving, demented animalistic horror. The avatar’s breath hitched, whatever protest and voice he had escaping deep inside his body, ears pinned back to his head.

“Of course,” Jake glowered, swallowing the scorching stones blocking his throat. He closed his burning eyes, and was greeted by the image of you, opening them back again, and shaking the ax as if it was an accusing finger.

And without a word of warning, his hand shot down and grabbed the avatar from the neck of his tactical vest, hurling him over the chest-level array of big rocks forming a pointy bed above, ignoring the cries of pain as the abused, torn open flesh of the wound dragged through the sharp teeth of the gravel, dousing them in blood. “Please, please, stop!—I’m sorry, I was wrong, that wasn’t right, shit, shit!”

Jake snatched the man’s dominant arm that was coincidentally the same one dangling by fractured bone and tendons from the shoulder. His soul had known what he wanted right from the start before his brain had processed it. “This hand,” he spat, holding it from the wrist, gnashing his teeth. “that pulled the trigger at me…”

Murdered his daughter for a second time.

All a soldier’s worth for. One hand to hold the stock tight against the body and one to fire. All that to take a single life.

Leaning the hand down against the rock in a sudden move, Jake slammed on the blunt, pointy end of the tomahawk on it like he was hammering a nail, the sickening crack of the bones breaking got followed by the avatar’s fractured scream.

Jake saw you hunched, cheekily laughing in the blue and purple of the creek, freckles glowing because of the eclipse, silhouette illuminated by the floating bioluminescent bugs.

Spinning the tomahawk in his clammy hand in a full 360 turn, he smashed it down once more, stronger. The metal broke skin and sank into spongy muscle. His ears were buzzing, ringing from how the shrill yells.

Jake was hugging you after what seemed to be years, and your little arms were clinging to him for life — you were sand slipping from his fingers.

Jake hammered again.

You were telling him how mean he was to you, your voice suppressing the avatar’s.

He brought it down one more time and felt the tomahawk recoil from hitting rock.

You were bashful as you repeated how Jake would always love you.

Guttural breaths getting louder with effort each hit, he kept slamming it down until everything was his beautiful little sweet girl.

Again.

Again and again and again and again and again until there was no resistance from the limb anymore and the man had gone silent and it was all mashed meat he was pounding—

And then he almost plunged it to your bleeding, battered corpse, your stomach covered in reddish brown from the dried brown, body ashen blue, and Jake cried out in terror, jumping back and losing strength in his legs as the tomahawk flew from his hand and he fell over.

His lungs constricted, refusing to take any breaths in and his heart ricocheted around in his ribcage, he was gaping at the wall of rock now washed red as if it was some white rose painted red in Alice in Wonderland.

Jake sat there for the longest time, dissociated.

In those moments, he wasn’t Toruk Makto, he wasn’t Olo’eyktan, he wasn’t the pillar of a family of seven. He was simply Jake Sully.

However, he wasn’t allowed to be stripped down to the bone until all that’s left was a mourning father. That was Jake’s reality.

He had to cast the crippled man aside, the tragedy of his child away, and bring the leader of the People out right as your ghost rippled in his vision, watching spitefully within the forest — because all you wanted was for him to be your father, and he couldn’t even fucking do that after your death.

This avatar was a valuable asset, a hostage to question. For the sake of his people.

He wasn’t allowed revenge.

A single drop of tear rolled down expressionless face. When he looked down, Jake’s hands were still stained with your blood.

The only instance a child should be covered in blood is when they come out of their mother’s womb, little lungs being burned with existence for the first time, crying from the pain of being separated from Eywa’s arms, birth mother a complete stranger to them.

The gore of you barely clinging to life, unmoving, drenched in your own blood, wiped and wiped to the point Neytiri had to change buckets of water until it turned light pink was overlapping with the joyful image of your newborn self she had lovingly and gently cleaned of the remains of labor with wetted mothsilk, skin too sensitive for water for the moment, the blue coming alive as the blood and other clotted bodily fluids were cleansed.

It wasn’t the broken, ice-cold, lithe body of a young girl Neytiri had cleaned in the torment of her excoriated, unraveling mind, it was her baby’s. Her baby, her poor baby with a gaping hole in the middle of your body, memories marauding Neytiri’s lucidity.

She lived the moment of your first cleansing over and over again.

You were a particularly indomitable cryer, Neytiri had known you would be infamous for your battle cries right as she was brought back from the blackout of post-birth by your overly-healthy wailing — or perhaps you would best Ninat as a singer when you’d unapologetically blossom, but one thing was ascertained: her first daughter was a fierce, fiery blue ball of ardor compared to Neteyam, who was almost shy and reluctant in disturbing people around him in his weeping that a collective worry for his health had plagued the whole clan.

As you squirmed, smeared in chunks of her flesh and blood, as if you wanted to jump off from her arms and start walking already, Neytiri had smiled up at her Jake, your father, unable to take his eyes off you, stuck between awe and laughs that came and went. “She has your heart,” she’d told him, spent and hurting, but wonderfully alive. “Strong.”

He’d traced his thumb through her drenched hairline. “Lungs, you mean?” His scent, wind and hearthfire, had enveloped Neytiri when Jake had leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I think they’re yours.” The teasing about how you had made Neytiri scream in labor wouldn’t have gone unpunished if she wasn’t on the edge of sleep held up only by your crying, so, he’d gotten a light hit on the side of his face instead. But Jake knew how to apologize, he’d always been spectacular at it. “I’d say she takes after me in appearance, look at her little ugly face.”

To Neytiri, you were beautiful, face dark purple from how strong you were screaming, and a mini-village elder with the wrinkles, swinging those little fists — things that made you lovely in her eyes. Her first daughter.

She had learned motherhood from Neteyam, but she would learn to understand her mother and her choices through you, someone she thought couldn’t be more different from her — Neytiri, all Mo’at could have been, and Mo’at, all Neytiri might have become, once. She prayed you would love her as much as she’d begun to love you the second you were in her arms.

To think the enormity of her love hadn’t reached you — it was one of the greatest failures of Neytiri’s life. If it had, you’d be wounded, but perfectly conscious and well in her mother’s tent. If it had, you would have been beyond comfortable telling those demons had hurt you.

In that all-consuming devastation, the woven towel she was using to wipe the thin sheet of sweat that formed on your body slipped from her uncoordinated hands and fell on your chest, and Neytiri had to hold back the breath that spiked to become a hiccup by covering her mouth, and immediately, her curled hand was engulfed in a smaller, five-fingered one. She came eye-to-eye with Kiri after raising her head, putting her other hand on hers at the girl’s more disheveled and messy self, heart dropping to her stomach at the fatigue varnishing an extra layer of moisture in her daughter’s drooping eyes.

“Oh Kiri,” Neytiri mumbled, caressing her cheek and brushing the tangled hair away from her face.

“Why don’t you go get some rest, mom, hm?”

“Even if I somehow agreed to that, I could never agree to leaving my daughter alone in this.”

“I’m fine.” Stopping to take a breath, she sighed, collecting the towel and starting to fold it. “Well, not really fine, but don't worry about me. We’re all miserable here. And that’s natural.” Fiddling with the corners of the cloth, she leaned in a bit and lowered her voice, light reflecting from the yellow of her irises making it look like they shone from within. “I… I know she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Eywa has bestowed us a gift she has never given to anyone before and it’s for a reason. I feel that everything will be set right.” She shook her head up and down, determined. “Dad will do it. I know he will.”

Neytiri trusted Kiri with her intuition and understanding when it came to the inscrutable intentions of Eywa, she was closer to the Great Mother than any Tsahik was — so close that she would drift away too much from her family. And deep down, Neytiri was heartsick by this invisible line that separated her from her daughter, any parent in her place would be unsettled like this.

She was also hog-tied to close the distance growing between them because of the human boy Spider and how she would find camaraderie in him in their ‘orphan’ status as she called it. Kiri was already faraway in her obscure existence and unwittingly separated herself as if she didn’t see herself as a real part of the family some days, and Neytiri hated that the ‘kinship’ she’d formed with Spider was planting these ideas into her head when she was her and Jake’s daughter, no more, no less. To overwrite those feelings, she tried so hard to reach Kiri, but was unsettled by the feeling of being hated sometimes, again, more or less for her stance in placing Spider at the outskirts of their family.

But oftentimes Kiri would express her affection through small, otherwise unnoticeable actions, just like this one, a caring touch and reassurance that could melt an ice cube — and Neytiri basked in the babiest of steps between them. And maybe this was how Jake had it with you, too, she had never thought about it like this before.

Taking in Neytiri’s solemn silence, Kiri grumbled, suddenly agitated about something. “I just… I just wish I had isirka resin and xhikul seeds for this paste and cover her wound with it. Grandmother’s extract isn’t enough to stimulate the bone marrow and ugh—” The girl groaned with the obvious guilt at groaning in the first place, as well. “I’m sorry, mom, I don’t know what—”

“It’s alright, Kiri,” Neytiri said, weariness blending with tenderness, knowing you’d agree too. You would have probably told her to not waste her energy and wait around when there wasn’t anything left to do anyway. “Maybe it’s you who needs some rest. You’ve worked hard. Harder than any of us. You do need rest, too.”

Kiri was quick to refuse. “I’m trying something new, I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sure one of your brothers—”

Her earpiece buzzed alive. “Neytiri, do you read me?”

The unexpected timing of it caught her off guard, her hand flying up to the device, drums of alarm going off in her head by the croaky, despondent note to his voice. The impact of their previous argument evaporated from existence just by hearing his distress. ��Jake?” She focused on you, not observing any difference, and frowned in worry, her pulse picking up pace as Kiri also locked her attention to her the moment she heard her father was on the line. “What happened?”

“I have here one of Quaritch’s dreamwalkers—whatever they are.” Neytiri’s mouth opened and closed at the reveal, forehead creasing. “Alive. Somehow survived to get to the Tree of Souls.”

Her hand instinctively descended to touch your cool and clammy arm closest to her. “Tree of Souls…? But you were—”

“Yeah. Yeah, he… I couldn’t. I couldn’t…”

She stared at your face, all thoughts draining from her mind. “What are you saying, Jake?”

Silence.

“Jake,” Neytiri implored, her voice snuffed out towards the end. She tried again. “Jake, I don’t understand. What does this mean..?”

“Son of a bitch pulled me out before I could… before I could finish talking to her.” Kiri reached for her when she let out an incoherent, disbelieving voice, getting more panicked as Neytiri clawed at her tightening chest with his next words. “I failed, Neytiri. I couldn’t… She…”

Neytiri was physically helpless to respond, and Kiri couldn’t hold back from inquiring seeing the state she was in. “Mom? Mom! What’s wrong?”

“This man, if it wasn’t for this man, I had it.” Jake kept talking at an increasing speed the longer Neytiri didn’t say anything. “I had her right in my arms, making future plans, smiling, everything was perfect, and then he—” His breath quivered. “He fucking—” And he stopped the sentence abruptly to get some semblance of control back because Eywa knew Neytiri was losing it ever so slowly. “I need you here with me right now, please. Please, I…”

Neytiri refused to acknowledge what Jake couldn’t say out loud. You were still breathing, she felt your chest rise and fall even if the pattern was weak. You had life left in you. Jake saying he failed made no sense to her, she didn’t believe it.

“Neytiri, I need to question this… this filth, need to learn all I can about what’s going on, but I can’t do it on my own. I’ll kill him. In a heartbeat. I want to squeeze the life out of him with my hands right this moment and I— I can’t… We have to know how they could have gotten this far, what they’re planning—and now right to the Tree of Souls too, and…” The rambling that got chaotic and disconnected faded off eventually, as if he’d lost his voice. “Shit.”

And throughout all that, Neytiri had gone from confused, in denial, at the threshold of grief but not nearly in there anchored by your pulse, and lusting for blood within minutes. Kiri was taken aback by the anger radiating from her. “Bring him here!”

“I can’t. He could have a tracker on him—they could have put it in his body. I can’t risk that.”

Neytiri stood up with only one thing in her mind, and it didn’t match Jake’s. “Where are you?”

“You gotta let me pass, buddy, come on! You wanna take my head off or something? Why are you being like this!”

Hands up and quick on his feet, Lo’ak was trying to negotiate.

With an ikran of all things. Not even his.

Yours.

Mom storming out like a wronged, vengeful spirit had been the perfect chance for him to do a quick supply run sneak off, but your overgrown big bird with the exact same attitude as you was getting in his way and blocking Lo’ak off by snapping its jaw at his head and opening its sunset fire tinged wings every time he attempted to cross over to his own ikran. They were basically at a standstill and he had no idea why.

Lo’ak just wanted to help. Help you.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Shit.

Neteyam. Making his way to him with such speed that got his braids swinging and of course he’d sniffed Lo’ak out like a nantang. Followed the odd silence, probably. Eywa, he should have thought this out better.

“Skxawng, do you not remember what dad said?”

“I do,” Lo’ak hummed and hawed, and that was the problem. He’d never felt this guilty about disobeying dad’s orders before, it was making him squirm. “But look, Kiri said she needed isirka resin and xhikul seeds or whatever to treat her, I’m going—”

Neteyam’s jaw had flexed when he said whatever, but there was no visible agitation after he gave a sharp breath through his nose. “So let’s call mother or—”

“They’re busy with some sky person dad caught—”

“I know. The same ones who did this to our sister. I know, Lo’ak.” Neteyam aggressively gestured to the exit of the cave system, shaking his arm while speaking. “What do you think will happen if you go off on your own and land yourself in bigger trouble than she did? Huh?”

Lo’ak threw resentful looks at your ikran. “I can’t stay put like this. I have to do something.”

“This again? There is nothing we can do.” He hadn’t said that in his normal drilling of dad’s orders — Neteyam had the same pain of acceptance that were Lo’ak’s bruises etched onto his face.

And that made Lo’ak want to throw up all over the place. He’d experienced countless sicknesses his siblings had fallen to over the years, none of those were as fatal as this and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. What was he supposed to do when his sister was dying? What did one do when a family member was in this situation anyway? Nothing seemed right to him.

And something was finally, finally within his power — and Lo’ak would of course rise up to the challenge without hesitation. He wasn’t just going to sit down and let that possibility of your salvation slip by. “But there is. Kiri said—”

“Lo’ak if you leave right now and somehow get caught dad will never trust you again. He was the most open he’s ever been, don’t betray him like that.”

He was getting annoyed that Neteyam was ignoring the whole point, though it wasn’t as if Lo’ak didn’t know. He was fully aware, and that’s why this was supposed to be a secret. Dad couldn’t be hurt by what he didn’t know now, could he? Not only were you getting Kiri’s remedy, which he was sure as his name was Lo’ak that would end up most effective, but he also wasn’t breaking his promise to dad when the tiniest thread of trust in his son was knotted by the man just recently.

Neteyam grabbed him by the top of his head in a brotherly manner but his hold was of steel, the boy tried to grumpily push him off but he didn’t budge, staring right into his soul. “Use what’s in this for once and just tell dad or mother, they’re down in the forest already anyway.” When he let go, Lo’ak stumbled back, rubbing the sting off, and the semi-playful older brother was back. “And one of them will actually know what to look for.”

His immediate response was refusal. “I know what I’m looking for—”

“What does isirka look like?”

The sounds your ikran was making was eerily close to laughter and Lo’ak felt heat rush up to the tips of his ears. “It’s a tree.”

Neteyam didn’t have brow hair like Lo’ak did, but the way he raised the lines was always more expressive than how he did it. “Xhikul, then?”

“Flower, skxawng.”

“Wrong.” Lo’ak’s tail started beating the air at the condescending tone. “Kiri is talking about the fruit. Xhika is its flower.”

He rolled his eyes, turning away. “Whatever—”

“Is it whatever?” Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak by the shoulder and spun him around so rough that he got dizzy. “Are you calling my sister’s life whatever?”

Lo’ak was going to explode from how wrong this was going and how insistent Neteyam was to twist his words. “That’s not what I meant bro!”

“You are so careless.” Neteyam’s tail had shot up ramrod straight, the little bush of hair at the end of it all puffed up, ears perking in all directions. He wasn’t necessarily yelling but was tense all over, something he did whenever they were playing back in the day and he was about to pounce after staying still enough to implant a false seed of safety. “You don’t even think about what can happen if you were to bring a completely different ingredient! You don’t think!”

“Sorry that I’m trying to help! What are you doing?”

“Keeping us safe. Keeping you safe.” He pressed his lips together on a thin line, but couldn’t hold back whatever was bubbling inside. “I’m not losing another sibling, Lo’ak!”

Only a small gasp escaped Lo’ak when he opened his mouth in retaliation. He couldn’t have found his voice even if he found something to say to that rawness in return, anyway.

The gut-churning guilt doubled.

“Hey… I—”

“Go,” Neteyam whispered, tilting his head together with the lone word. “Since you’re dying to help, help Kiri. She’s exhausted. I don’t think grandmother will refuse.”

“What about you?” And there he goes again. Wrong words. Neteyam was looking more closed-off than before. “I’m not accusing or anything—”

“I can’t go in there.”

“What?”

“I can’t,” Neteyam took a deep breath and loudly let it go, tail deflating, the arch of it depressing as hell for some reason. “I can’t look at her.”

Neteyam just gave a forlorn smile in return to Lo’ak’s heavily concerned looks demanding he continue but not knowing how to word it, his back looked weirdly lonely as he was tending to your significantly calmer ikran to join back the horde.

Buried in negative thoughts all the way back and ignoring the pitiful looks from the rest of the clan, he met Kiri outside of the healing tent talking to Spider, and he could see Tuk’s back covering the view to you in his peripheral.

They were whispering about something and it was obvious even from a distance where they were nothing but stick figures. At least try to look less suspicious, Lo’ak thought.

The only part he caught from the conversation was Spider saying, “Just describe them to me,” — Kiri was really leaning in towards him.

“What’s going on?”

The two looked like they were caught in the middle of scheming, and it clicked almost immediately.

If Lo’ak had thought of going off on his own, so had they.

“You aren’t going anywhere, bro,” he said, draping his arm across the human boy’s shoulders. “Neteyam’s literally patrolling.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Spider groaned, visibly disappointed. It warmed Lo’ak’s heart to see he was totally down for sneaking off the camp for you. “You said your dad told him to rest.”

“Yeah, he did. Except Neteyam never rests. He has a dancing glow worm up his ass.”

The conversation couldn’t continue because Kiri did a double take at something.

“Tuk!” Kiri took a few steps aside, squinting as if she didn’t think she was seeing it right. Then her expression burst into panic, her hands flying forward as she ran to the tent, Spider and Lo’ak could only stare, baffled. “Tuk, oh Eywa, what are you doing!—”

“I’m giving her water, she’s thirsty.”

“What?”

He actually rushed to the entrance of the tent, nearly falling headfirst in, having stumbled on some rock. Your mouth was actually open. And Tuk was really trying to get you to drink from the bowl she was holding against your mouth.

You choked at one point, still unconscious, but it was a sign of life. Lo’ak didn’t know if the shocked screech came from him or Kiri.

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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bleachification · 1 year

Text

aizen - moth to a flame pt. 2

+ aizen x reader

+ chapter two of this fic: moth to a flame << please read this first!

+ tybw spoilers below !!!

summary: war is looming and so are the ever-present memories of your ex-husband. aizen has officially turned his back on soul society and your marriage… at least that’s what you think. chance encounters with aizen amidst a century-worn war spark an internal battle that you aren’t sure you can win, and unconditional love and visceral hatred clash at the helm as you try to forget and move on—much to the dismay of your ex-husband, a man who, by every means, seems intent on winning you back.

“Are you ready?” Byakuya’s voice permeates your bedroom door and settles into the air alongside the scent you had just sprayed. The fragrance is all too familiar—deep vanilla with a subtle hint of smoked maple. Warm and intoxicating.

Anyone who’s not a fool understands how unhealthy it is to keep and use your murdering, traitorous, son-of-a-bitch ex-husband’s cologne, but love has blinded you and made you foolish.

You can’t help it. You can’t help the sense of safety and comfort the scent brings as it wraps itself around you, clinging like the last of a lifeline. You can’t help but freeze anytime you try to throw it out—hand directly over the bin, unable to let go and waiting for a drop that will never come.

You can’t help the love you still hold for him… even as it eats away at you until nothing but a shell of your former self is left.

“Yeah! Just… just give me a moment,” you call out in response after a pause of uneasy hesitation. You take a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of reprieve before you step out to meet the 6th Division Captain.

When Byakuya asked you to accompany him to a formal dinner with the rest of the Gotei, you were stunned… to say the least. In fact, you didn’t even give him an answer until 48 hours later, when you had fully processed his request. When you finally accepted, the soft smile that split across his features was worth it, despite the reservations, you harboured in the back of your mind.

When you gave him your answer, he thanked you… actually thanked you for agreeing to be his date. That gesture almost made you backtrack everything. It’s like you were almost toying with him—playing with his hope like a piper would the flute.

Byakuya is kind, gentle, and patient. He cares for you in a way so pure and unblemished that you ache with the knowledge that you can’t give him what he wants—what he deserves. At least not while Aizen exists.

You make your way to the door, shaking the swarming thoughts of Aizen away, and with a heavy breath, you open it to greet Byakuya. He stands before you, donned in all-white attire and carrying a small bouquet of roses in one hand. His eyes are wide as saucers as you step into his view.

You crack a smile. “Good evening, Captain.”

————

The formal dinner turns into a party mid-way as alcohol gets passed around more frequently. Byakuya has gone off to talk to some clan elders about matters you don’t particularly care for. To sober up and escape the noise, you find yourself wandering the deepest part of the gardens until you come across a familiar bench.

It sits facing a stunning pond, the water filled with otherworldly fauna and flora that decorate the glistening surface. Crickets tick in the nearby bushes, their sounds only overpowered by the gentle rushing sounds of the waterfall carved from the east bank.

You take a seat and close your eyes, savouring the rare moment of peace. The night is young, and the air is gentle on your scorching skin—the effects of the alcohol in your system. It’s a relatively normal amount, but you get red, no matter the dosage. Just a drop and you could be used as a signal for oncoming traffic in the human world.

Aizen used to tease you about it all the time, making stupid jokes that weren’t actually funny but made you laugh anyway. He’d give you a knowing smile, look right into your eyes and say—

“It’s a good thing my favourite colour is red.”

All of a sudden, the world stops.

No. No.

You turn and blink at Aizen standing before you, hair bright underneath the moonlight. He looks different, yet much too similar, all at the same time.

This isn’t real, you think. So in your alcohol-induced haze, you decide that it isn’t.

“Wow. Pretty accurate for a hallucination. What the hell was in that shot Retsu gave me?” You whisper the last part, just realizing how far from sobriety you are.

Made-Up Aizen steps forward, inching closer until you’re less than three feet apart. “Hallucination? How much have you had to drink, love?”

Has his voice always been so gentle? So full of adoration?

You decide to humour Fake Aizen. “Hmm… three plus five plus eight minus six?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement, hands folded behind his back as he watches you wiggle your fingers, trying to work out the numbers. There is less than four metres of space between you.

You frown. “I think I did the math wrong. How many fingers is eleven?”

“Just a bit more than you have,” he replies softly.

Not-Real Aizen smiles slightly at the sight of your pout and moves forward to drop down next to you on the stone bench. The two of you stare out at the water. The reflection of the stars is so vibrant on the pond’s surface that you’re tempted to scoop them up and count them in your hands. 1… 2… 3… until reality flows no longer and your problems fade into the weathers of passing time. Sadly, Problem #1 is currently sitting right next to you, eyes fixated on you as yours are on the fallen stars.

“You’ve been busy,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

You don’t take your eyes off the tranquil waters. A black swan glides across, light ripples following in its wake. “I could say the same for you, Dream Aizen.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your name for him but doesn’t comment on it, instead deciding to play along. “You know how it is, reforming the world and such.”

You finally focus on him, slightly regretting it when you see how he looks at you—the same way he looked at you every day before the night that ruined everything. But you remember he isn’t real—just a cruel figment of your imagination and deepest desires. Perhaps that’s why you can converse with him; pretend everything is back to normal… pretend to be happy again.

“No, I don’t. You see, I haven’t lost my mind. My balance and sobriety, maybe. But not this.” You knock on your head with your knuckles, only to wince at the contact.

Not-Actually Aizen only sighs, dipping his head as he replies. “It’s a shame we aren’t in agreement yet.”

“Yet? That’s quite offensive,” you scoff.

He tilts his head, amusement never straying from his features. “Oh? What is?”

“That you think I’d ever align myself with the likes of you. Offensive,” you affirm.

The curve of his mouth only widens for a second before his usual mellow appearance replaces it.

“We are meant to be together, _____. My plans won’t change that,” he assures.

Irritation bubbles up at the insinuation—no matter what happens, you would never be desperate enough to be with a man who is so far beyond help.

“My morals do. You know I’d never abandon those.”

“I know that you love me, and I love you. That you and I being on opposite sides—there’s no logic to that.”

To that, you can only sigh and shake your head, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall in front of your face.

Not even a millisecond later, he leans forward. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of your surroundings and of his eyes locked on yours. You look away, but that doesn’t deter him.

He is close enough that his breath runs hot on the skin of your neck. The proximity has your head spinning faster than the speed of light—and your own breath hitches as his gaze catches yours again. For an illusion, the warmth of his body feels all too real, and the look he gives you, far-too intense.

“Is that my cologne?” He murmurs, the question almost too low for you to make out.

“I ran out of everything else,” you lie.

“Why would you need… “He pauses and straightens a moment after as an inkling of realization settles in his mind. It causes his jaw to tense.

His hand moves and takes a strand of your hair between his fingers. You should pull back, but something stops you and pushes you to lean closer. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s knowing he isn’t real. Maybe it’s the part of you that aches in his absence.

“Are you here alone?” He then spots the accessory on your wrist. Turns out Byakuya also got a corsage to match the roses. “No, of course not.”

“I didn’t come with anyone,” you reply. The lie rolls off your tongue as easily as breathing. You have no reason to protect him from the truth. In fact, you should be lording it over him. Making it known that you’ve moved on—even if you haven’t.

He blinks. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“Apparently, you’ve always been a great one,” you retort.

He ignores that comment. You sniff—it was pretty clever.

“Was it Captain Kyoraku? Someone from one of the noble clans? Tell me, _____. Who have you employed as my temporary replacement?” His fingers stay tangled in your hair, playing with the strands like he used to when lulling you to sleep. For some unfathomable reason, you let him.

“My date is none of your concern.”

He cocks his head. “On the contrary. As your husband, anyone you are concerned with is my concern.”

You begin to protest. “Ex-husband—”

He interrupts you. “And as your husband, it is only right for me to inquire about your dalliances. So who is it?” A smirk plays on his lips, “Does he know you’re wearing another man’s cologne?”

You give up on trying to correct him. Aizen has always had a streak of stubbornness. “I know he’s mature enough not to care.”

Hallucinated Aizen pulls back from you, not too far, but with enough distance that you can breathe again. His hand, however, never leaves its spot next to your face, teasingly playing with your locks.

Aizen couldn’t pull his hand away even if he wanted to, though that desire could never wane. As magnets are to each other, you are the same to Aizen—he craves your contact… your touch… your very existence bound to his own. You two are forces unexplained, only alive when together, and vessels of resistance when apart.

To have spent all this time away from you has been torturous, certainly. But to find out another man is daring to claim what’s his? What will always be his? That insult has truly driven him mad. The calm facade he wears so intimately is on the verge of crumbling the longer he stares at that disgusting flower tied to your wrist. The thought of burning that wretched thing alongside the person who gave it to you, then whisking you far, far away, is overwhelmingly tempting. The only thing preventing Aizen from doing so is knowing he would lose you completely.

“I won’t let that happen….”

“Hm? Did you say something?” You swear he did, but it was so quiet you missed it.

With a shake of the head, he denies it and fully removes himself from your space, deciding instead to join you in observing the pond’s activities. Though skeptical, you choose to leave it alone.

You close your eyes and relish the night breeze, only to peek at the man beside you after a few minutes of silence. Nature long forgotten, his eyes are transfixed on you, slowly scanning you up-and-down, as if committing the image of you to memory.

After a moment, he speaks up, voices a little strained. “Ah… so you came with Byakuya. Safe choice. Though you were never one to play it safe.”

You blink, half in confusion, half in shock. “What? How did you…?”

“The rose. It’s from his gardens, is it not?”

Damn it.

“I hate how smart you are,” you mumble.

He smiles a bit at that. “You used to think my intelligence to be one of my greatest qualities.”

That damned, godforsaken smile. It ruins you completely. Every single time it graces his face, it fucking obliterates you.

“I hate how smart you are and how kind you used to be,” you add. The sudden need to get everything out in the open takes hold of you. “I hate your lies and the pain you caused and will continue to cause.”

He opens his mouth, maybe an apology on his tongue, but one that goes unheard as you interrupt and continue.

“But most of all? I hate the fact that I can’t hate you… not even for a second, not ever,” you breathe, letting the truth sit between you, as heavy and deep as the blood on his hands.

Silence rings out, lingering for a few seconds too long for comfort. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet as he finally responds. “I know.”

You take a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t move on. Doesn’t mean I can’t love someone else.”

His demeanour crumbles for a fraction of a second before his mask of indifference slips back into place. You’re able to catch it, though—Aizen is shaken. “You don’t mean that.”

“You chose your own path, Aizen, and the moment you stepped foot onto it, I was no longer a part of it—a part of you. You decided on a life that held no place for me.”

Your husband—ex-husband—flinches. A rare sight, if there ever was one. “Don’t. You will always be a part of me, and I you.”

Your gaze drops, as does your stomach. The heavier the topic delves, the heavier your heart sinks. “That’s only in the past.”

“We are not a thing of the past,” he states, tone even, despite how tightly he grips the side of the bench, hard enough that his veins surface and fingertips turn white. You ignore the part of you that wants to take his hand in your own and check for calluses—to take away his pain.

“We are not a thing at all,” you stress. The tension rises, and you only serve to add fuel to the fire. “And we never will be again.”

Because of you. Because of the choice you made.

He makes a disapproving noise but doesn’t comment on it further. Another few minutes of uncomfortable silence stretches until you decide to break it.

“It’s strange,” you muse.

“What is?”

The realization creeps up slowly, like paint dripping down an infinite canvas. “I’m almost certain I’m sobered up, yet you’re still here.”

Another beautiful, devastating smile from Aizen—the real Aizen. “Where else would I be other than with my love?”

You snort. “Off, god-knows-where, trying to take over the world?”

“It’s my off-day,” he jokes. You find no humour in it.

You sigh, chin resting in your palm. “So, you’re real.”

For some reason, you aren’t freaked out. His presence, though unwarranted, has and will always bring a sense of comfort. That feeling is one you don’t think time itself could weather away.

He sits his chin on the back of his folded hands, mirroring you. “And you’re still here. With me.”

“Which is exactly why I should get back to my date, and you should leave,” you note. The suggestion is logical. Rational. But it hurts nonetheless.

“So soon, my love? The night is still young. Are you really that eager to get back to your date?”

There is no humour in your eyes as you reply: “Yes, I am.”

“I see.” If there’s a strain to his voice, you don’t notice.

Without another word, Aizen stands and takes a step forward. You mentally gather yourself at the last second and let him go… for good this time.

“Aizen?”

“Yes?’ The hint of hope in his voice does not go unnoticed, and it only makes what you say next much harder.

“Don’t come back again. Especially not for me.”

Aizen barely reacts, only affording you a stiff nod and sad smile before he disappears without a second glance—so quietly you almost believe him to be an illusion again.

----------

The next time Aizen is brought up is during Ywhach’s invasion of Soul Society. Shunsui is the one who speaks to you about releasing your ex—a means to turn the tides of war. The Sternritter are closing in much too close for comfort, so to have a winning chance… Shunsui knows what has to be done. Hell, you, in your adamant refusal and hesitation, know what has to be done. The “knowing” is the easy part. The “actually putting thoughts into action” part is what’s causing every nerve in your body to seize up and render you immobile.

“No, no, you can’t. Or I can’t—Shunsui, I haven’t seen him for….” Much too long.

The look Shunsui gives you makes your jaw clench—sunken eyes brimming with pity and remorse. “_____, you know I wouldn’t be suggesting this if there was any other option, but he is the only one who–”

“He is a criminal, or have you forgotten? He deserves to be locked up—to stay in his prison and rot beneath our feet,” you argue.

The words you spit are harsh, but the rising panic in your throat is harsher.

Shunsui doesn’t budge. “He is also our only chance of survival.”

What a laughable irony.

“He would stab our backs with the key we free him with.”

“Checks and balances, ______. There will be restrictions in place.”

“That won’t be enough,” you stress.

But despite your best efforts, your argument falls on deaf ears. Shunsui made up his mind long before this conversation occurred. He only spoke to you out of courtesy. And perhaps a sense of guilt.

“It will have to be,” he plainly states.

The newly appointed Captain-Commander glides past you, the scent of his cologne wafting by as he moves to the door. With a slight tilt of his head, he opens it and gestures with an open palm.

“Well? Are you coming or not?”

A seemingly innocent question, yet loaded with suffocating pressure. But as much as you despise the idea, you steel yourself and follow in Shunsui’s footsteps to the deepest level of Seireitei; Muken, home of the damned, and currently, the residence of your ex-husband.

It isn’t long before you arrive at the heavy gates of the prison. The looming doors bring a grim sense of foreboding—a ticking time bomb that cannot be defused.

Shunsui sets a warm hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. In reassurance or apology, you aren’t sure. You ignore the gesture; the only thing on your mind is the anxiety bubbling up inside you, threatening to overflow.

“Would you like me to go in first? Or with you?” Shunsui asks, sensing your unease.

You shake your head. “That’s kind, but no. I’ll have more luck convincing him if I’m alone.”

He only nods before moving aside to let you in.

The first thing you notice is the sheer cold that wraps around you like a blanket of pins and needles. It bores into your bones and seeps into your veins, chilling and paralyzing. It takes you a second to realize that feeling isn’t due to temperature.

You’re scared.

And you hate that fear more than you hate him.

Not fear of Aizen, but fear what you’ll do when you see him… what you’ll feel.

The gates close behind you with a soft yet heavy thud, encasing you in an echoing darkness that almost blinds you to the path to Aizen. Minutes of deep breaths later, you set a foot forward. Walking through Muken feels like wading through a pool of honey. Time seems to slow to an agonizing crawl as you continue across the darkness. It takes a lifetime and a half, but you finally reach your destination.

And there he is. Sitting in all his glory, up on the throne he so desperately craved. Head held high, never to be lowered for anyone except you… once upon a time. Aizen shows no hint of surprise as you approach him, but you swear the corner of his visible eye crinkles. You almost blame it on the light, only to remember there’s barely any in the underground prison.

Seals are strewed across his body, shackling every possible ounce of his power and freedom. You ignore the lump in your throat at the sight; the implication of that pain is something you’d like to leave untouched.

“I’ve come to—“

“Ask for my help. Yes, I know, and yes, I’ll do it,” Aizen interrupts with his smooth baritone.

You blink, surprise flitting across your features. “You will? I thought I’d have to fight tooth and nail to convince you.”

“Of course, I will. You asked. Captain Kyorakou’s idea, no doubt, but it worked nonetheless,” Aizen says, gaze never straying from yours. He takes you in, eyes adjusting to your beauty after months alone in a barren landscape, staring at nothing but concrete walls and a blackened void.

“Then I guess my job here is done.” You turn to leave, ready to get the hell out, only to be stopped by his voice.

“Wait. _____, wait. Let’s talk.”

You swallow back the nerves crawling up the back of your throat. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“On the contrary, we have so much to catch up on,” he replies.

You whirl around to face him, nerves long gone, annoyance slipping in its place. “Like what, Aizen? Do you want to talk about how everyone and everything I care about is getting slaughtered and destroyed by the war ravaging my home? About how I am looking at my ex-husband chained up and sealed away to the furthest depths of Soul Society because he decided treason and power were more important than his family? Maybe, you’d like to talk about how every single morning, I wake up and find my world crumbling over and over again because of you. Because. You. Aren’t. There. Is that what you want to ‘catch up’ on?”

Aizen only stares, imperceptibly taken aback by your outburst. He opens his mouth to answer, but you aren’t finished.

“You are the root of my misery. The bane of my existence.” You hold back the tears well enough, but your voice breaks near the end. “Please, Aizen. Our marriage. My trust. My heart. What else is left for you to break?”

The seals imposed on him make reading his reaction and body language difficult, but the tense pause before he answers is palpable in the freezing air. “You must understand. I do not regret many things, _____, but I do regret hurting you.”

A shake of your head is all you can muster through the simmering anger and cutting grief you find yourself drowning in. “I don’t have many regrets either, but do you know the one thing I wish I could take back more than anything?”

A rhetorical question—you’re both aware—but he answers nonetheless; he humours you. “What is it, my love?”

My love. That damned endearment, laced with affection and poison. “You. I regret ever meeting you.”

A beat of silence passes before Aizen softly murmurs: “I am sorry... if it means anything.” Whether he’s genuine or not, you don’t know, and frankly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“It doesn’t. Not from you,” you sigh. Fatigue washes over you in numb waves. The urge to leave is overwhelming, so you square your shoulders and turn on your heel again. This time, he doesn’t try to stop you from going.

The war against the Sternritter was not without losses, and the effects of its devastation still echo over Seireitei even months later. Graves filled the desolate land—the final resting places for the fallen, many of whom you had known and cared for. Learning of your comrades’ deaths was a thousand fatal blows to the chest, but nothing could compare to the debilitating dread that sunk its claws into your bleeding heart when you saw Aizen hurt. In that horrible, paralyzing moment, only one thought ran through your mind:

He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die.

Like a broken record, that desperate mantra was the only thing you understood, and Aizen the only thing you knew. It took every fiber, every nerve, every optic in your body to restrain yourself from running over and shielding him from further harm. To protect him like he always used to protect you, like how you both vowed to on the day of your union. That moment shattered every doubt in your mind about where you stood with Aizen, and it is also the reason you don’t draw your sword at the sight of him in your home once more.

“Shunsui thought those restrictions could contain you,” you pause. He stands at your doorway, leaning against the frame and listening patiently as you continue. “I told him it wouldn’t be enough.”

A small smile graces his features—the special kind that only appears in your presence. “You do know me best, after all.”

“I thought that once. Until I found out I don’t really know you at all… don’t know who you are anymore,” you murmur.

Aizen steps closer and you find yourself doing the same. No more running, no more hiding. “Then let me remind you. I am your husband, _____. I am the man who will crawl to the ends of the earth and back if you ask it of me. I am the man who needs you more than I need to draw breath,” he whispers, voice so soft, you’re only able to make out what he’s saying because of how close he is.

“Aizen, please…” You gently press against his chest, desperate to gain distance, but he doesn’t budge and envelopes your fingers with his hand. His skin is warm against yours—too warm… and way too intoxicating.

“No. I won’t let you push me away again. I need you to listen–”

“I’ve been listening! I’ve been listening to the lies you’ve been spewing for the entirety of our relationship,” you exclaim, exasperated. You pull your hand free from his and it's not even a second later that you miss the contact.

Aizen’s gaze drops down to his empty hand for a split second before coming up to level yours. There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher. “I hid things from you, yes. But I never lied about our relationship. I pursued you because I desired you, and I married you because the rest of my life is you.”

You cannot breathe. The air around you is charged with something even more powerful than electricity and its drawing goosebumps along your arms and chills down your spine. Aizen continues, and…

Oh dear god, you can’t breathe.

“If someone were to open up my soul, searching for fingerprints, they would only find yours. I love you. I have loved you for the better part of my life and I will love you even if you took a knife to my heart right now,” Aizen announces, the words escaping out his mouth in a passionate flurry.

He is so, so close. Close enough to touch, close enough to kiss…

You lift your gaze until his eyes meet yours. Something passes between you, and you throw every inhibition out the door.

“Please, _____. Say some—”

And then there was nothing. No sounds. No space. No hate. No love. Nothing between you except unspoken words and fractured memories.

Aizen’s lips move hungrily against yours, and you meet him with equal fervor. His hands are entangled in your hair and gently, but firmly, grasping the back of your neck, hot and searing on your skin. You reach out and grasp the sides of his face, tracing the contours of his jaw as you pull him even closer. The kiss is laden with the roughness and desperation of a dying love. Neither of you is willing to let it end, but you pull back anyway, mind swimming with a million jumbled emotions.

“Aizen—”

His eyelids droop and he steals another kiss while drunk off your presence. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“What?” You try not to get distracted by the slew of affection he’s showering you with, but it's immensely difficult.

“Aizen,” he sulks.

Is he pouting?

You almost let out a laugh. “Have all those years of lying muddled your brain? It’s your name, what else would I be calling you?”

“You used to call me Sosuke. Or husband.”

“I used to call you many things that are hardly appropriate now given the nature of our relationship,” you note.

Sosuke pulls a face, clearly displeased by your answer. “After what we just did, I think it is extremely appropriate.”

You fidget as anxiety starts its treacherous climb up the back of your throat. “Yeah, about that… this doesn’t mean everything is magically okay. It’s far from it, actually.”

You jump a little when you feel his head drop down to your shoulder, breath ghosting over the lines of your collarbone. “I know, but we can make it work. Always.”

“You’re just going to abandon your plans? Give up on taking over the world?” The disbelief in your tone must be obvious because Aizen straightens up and his usual serious demeanor slips back into place.

“I have decided to shift my priorities,” he assures.

“I still can’t trust you.” Your heart squeezes at the sight of Aizen flinching—just slightly, but the hurt is there.

“That is… alright. For now. I swear I will do everything in my power to gain it back—to show you that your trust in me will not be misplaced,” he promises.

You swallow, unsure of where to go from here until Aizen steps back and pulls something out from underneath the folds of his clothes. The moonlight glints off of your ring, glimmering in the night. Your heart flips at the sight, you’ve missed it dearly.

“I want you to take this back,” he begins.

“I don’t think that is smart idea, I d—”

Your husband gently interrupts you: “Wait. I want you to keep this until I can regain your trust. If I can’t do it, then you are free to throw it into the nearest sea. If I can…” His lips curve into a beautiful smile. “Then I am never letting you take this off for the rest of our lives.”

Five seconds pass. Or twenty, you aren’t sure. The only perceivable thing to you right now is not time, but the thundering beats of your pulse as you make your decision.

You swear Aizen sighs in relief when you finally take the ring from his hand. To his displeasure, you slip it into your pocket instead of on your finger, but he doesn’t voice his disappointment.

“Okay. A second chance; that is all I can give you.”

Aizen wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his body. You let him, his scent swirls around you, making you lightheaded. “I love you,” he whispers.

You can’t bring yourself to say it back—not yet, but he doesn’t push you to. For that, you are grateful. Nothing about this situation is rational, but love, in its truest form, does not exist within rationale. It exists within sense, within feeling, within the soul. It is rooted in what you cannot measure… in what you yearn for in your highest fantasies… and you? You will always and forever be what Aizen yearns for.

tags: @coralpeachcalm @starsilluminateourgalaxy

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imliketheiceifreeze · 1 year

Text

Miles Quaritch x OC

My Little Scientist- Chapter Six

Warnings: light smut, violence, swearing, minors DNI

3,300 words (this ones a bit longer than usual)

Chapter 7

Her knees were shaking somewhat as she made her way over to the general's office, a woman with higher clearance than even the Colonel. However, It was necessary, as she knew if she asked Miles, his reaction would be commanding her to never speak on the issue again. She needed her to say yes, to be convinced by her and she knew only one way to do this: appealing to her clinical nature, there was nothing more important to her than the mission and Gaia understood that much.

"Hello, General. Would I be able to speak with you for a moment."

She met her eyes slowly, a murderous gaze settling on her face at the sight of her,

"and who might you be?"

"Gaia Ambros ma'am, scientist in the botany department, recently completed a mission in Pandora."

She stood tall against her glare, trying to present herself to her in a positive light.

"Yes, I remember you. What do you want? And make it quick,"

she spoke in aggravation, tapping her pen against the desk, as if to bring more attention to how much of her time she was wasting.

"I would like to request placement on the upcoming mission ma'am."

Ignoring the General's irritation, she kept her eyes forward, addressing her the same way she'd watched the recoms speak to Miles.

"And why exactly would I do that? You were only on that mission at the Colonel's request, what authority do you have?"

She snorted, faking bemusement, but she could see the seething anger laying beneath her smile.

"I'm aware of that ma'am but I believe I would be a useful asset to the team. During our last mission I was able to heal wounds on the recombinants using my knowledge of the Pandoran flora,"

she explained, keeping her voice at a monotone so as not to show her fear. This, however, appeared to pique her interest, fully looking over her at last as she took in her words.

"I suppose having someone that knows the Na'vi culture could be a useful asset,"

she pondered before continuing,

"why is it exactly that you want to be on this mission? You do know what it entails, there will be casualties.”

Gaia nodded her head, rushing out a,

“yes ma’am, I want to fight for my species to give humans another chance at life.”

To solidify her intent, parroting the type of bullshit she usually saw on Pandora mission advertisements back on earth before her deployment.

“You would be too much of a distraction, don’t think I don’t know about your fraternisation with Colonel Quaritch.”

The General decided abruptly, waving her away dismissively as she turned back to the papers in front of her, nevertheless, she was not perturbed, desperate to convince the General of her abilities as she racked her brain.

“I could teach the recombinants how to ride Ikrans”

She let out in a single breath, unsure even of the logistics of her own idea.

Capturing her intrigue once more, she stopped her pen, eyes meeting Gaia's.

“And how would you do that?”

She spat in disbelief.

“I have extensive knowledge on how the Na’vi people use Ikrans in war, I could give you some of the papers I’ve worked on about the subject if you’d like.”

This seemed to offend her slightly, a scoff falling from her mouth as she turned away, Gaia supposed her chance to do something useful for once had slipped away.

“Okay, if you teach the recombinants to use Ikrans effectively, I will grant you access to the mission as cultural expert, understood?”

She met your eyes after a few minutes in silence to deliver her decision, making her face light up, fighting the smile that attempted to peek from her lips.

“Yes ma’am,”

she replied with enthusiasm before she was dismissed curtly. She knew going behind Miles’ back like this could put her relationship in jeopardy, but she couldn’t let him go on this suicide mission alone, they were together as equals now. This was the only way she could justify her actions, feeling guilt swirl in her stomach as the thought of him finding out caused anxiety to prickle at the back of her neck.

Her day continued as it usually would, meals in the dining hall with June and Mike, although they seemed too involved with each other to really pay much attention to her, not that she couldn't be accused of doing the same. And working hard in the lab, subtly trying to avoid spending time with Miles, unable to look him in the eye with this feeling of betrayal.

That was until, on her way between labs, she made out a furious voice shouting her name from the other end of the corridor. She sped up her steps, naively believing she might be able to outrun a 9ft tall avatar, to no avail, as she felt her centre of gravity brutally being pulled in the other direction, coming to realise she had been slammed into a wall, trapped with one arm pinned up against her neck.

Miles was seething with anger, fangs bared like a wild animal as he stared down at her. She'd never really been afraid of the fearsome Colonel before, knowing of course, his reputation as a ruthless man. That was until now, realising just how sharp his fangs were and how much strength he held, how easily he could kill her with one large hand.

"What the fuck princess, you invite yourself onto my mission and you don't even tell me? We're not gonna be playing about with flowers sunshine, this is fucking dangerous."

He barked, appearing to be holding himself back with every word. She didn't have the gall to reply, trembling in his hold, she pitifully felt tears pricking at her eyes as she was only able to choke out a few words with the pressure on her throat.

"Your hurting me Miles,"

A look of discomfort graced his features and he removed his hands from her at breakneck speed, cursing under his breath. He reached a hand slowly back to her face but she flinched away, making his own drop as Gaia stood defensively, feeling more than a little rattled by his actions.

"That was really fucking scary Miles,"

she uttered, lip quivering as the tears briming at her lower lids began to spill.

He didn't say anything, eyes simply darting across her face as he took in what he'd done. Trying to compose herself, Gaia began to explain her decision as Miles appeared to have gone into a state of shock,

"I can't let you go on that mission alone Miles, you could die out there and I'd be here alone, you can't do that to me."

She breathed, closing her eyes with a gulp as her emotions welled up in her throat.

"I can't lose you,"

she spoke nervously, flicking her eyes open to see how her confession would be received. She didn't flinch this time when he tentatively gripped her hand in his fingers, snapping out of his daze as he finally spoke.

"You think I don't feel the same? If anything ever happened to you I-"

He cut himself off, voice breaking, making her realise that this was the first time she'd ever seen him so vulnerable and she squeezed his hand to give him comfort, knowing the emotionally constipated man had probably never so much as shed a tear in public.

"I fucking care about you Gaia,"

He spat the words out like lava on his tongue, as though they greatly irritated him, almost making her smile. It was the most Miles expression of affection she'd ever seen.

"Then let me come with you, If I'm linked with my avatar I won't be in any real danger,"

she said half whispering, not wanting to break the tense silence that had enveloped them both. It made him pause, his harsh gaze not seeming to soften as he looked into her eyes unblinking,

"That doesn't mean you can't feel pain Gaia."

His words made your stomach clench, she'd never bothered to wonder how dying would feel, or how she would be able to feel it all only to wake up again, how that might affect her. Nevertheless, she maintained his unwavering glare, knowing that at the first sign of regret he would be able to convince her to stay. Reaching up she cupped his face in her palm, his hand settling upon her own to keep it there, as she said a final,

"I know."

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

It had been decided that she would teach the Colonel and his squad how to ride Ikrans effective immediately, considering the mission was pretty time sensitive, which is how she found herself on another aircraft full of recombinants, being flown over the magnificent hallelujah mountains. As per usual, Quaritch made some 'inspirational' speech to his team, responded to with a chorus of oorahs, naturally. She couldn't deny she felt a sort of safe familiarity in their presence, especially as she herself was in an avatar body, almost feeling like one of them.

Before she knew it, they were touched down on the precipice of a cliff with barely enough room for them all to gather under the rock shelf, the aircraft departing swiftly to allow them all more room. Stepping out, she checked her bag to make sure she was fully equipped, knowing how dangerous tsaheylu can be.

"You don't have to do this,"

a hand came over her shoulder as a a voice she recognised to be Miles spoke. Turning to him she only smiled with a nod, she wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

"Okay everyone, I have been assigned to teach you all about bonding with an Ikran."

She turned towards the recoms as she began, not waiting for Miles' approval this time as she was anxious to get this mission underway.

"Firstly, you must go towards them one by one, and if the Ikran tries to kill you, then they have chosen you and you must attempt to bond with them using your queue."

She explained, pointing to the nearby ledge inhabited by countless Ikrans, mixing together colourfully like light shining through a stained glass window.

"I'll go first,"

Miles pushed her aside as he moved toward them, so blinded by irritation that he couldn't hear any of the warnings Gaia shouted. She watched in horror as he paraded through their home, eyes locking on an enormous dark blue animal which hissed at the sight of him-and the game was on.

"It's just you and me cupcake,"

he drawled arrogantly whilst the rest of his squad cheered him on, none aware of the grave danger he was putting himself in just to prove his strength.

"Stop stressing sunshine, we won't let a banshee kill your boyfriend,"

Z-dog slapped your back with a laugh, having observed her wide eyed expression for a few minutes now. She didn't pay her any mind though, as she found yourself unable to tear her eyes away from the Colonel, having punched the Ikran in the face, he was now grappling with the animal to make it submit as he attempted to bond. But In spite of his efforts, the Ikran lurched off the cliff unbonded, taking Miles with him as it fell.

"Miles,"

Gaia screeched, racing to the edge of the cliff as the soldiers around her grew quiet. She couldn't see anything past the thick fog, and she grew cold at the thought of him falling so far. Was it even possible to perform tsaheylu on an Ikran mid flight? Suddenly, interrupting her thoughts, she saw the tips of blue wings shoot through the clouds, strong wind blowing you back from the verge, revealing Miles Quaritch, seated firmly on an Ikran, a look of glee spread through his features as he shouted to you all.

"All right!"

She moved further back, fear being replaced by anger as she watched him land the thing by your feet, smugly patting its head as he walked up to her.

"Who's up next then? You've seen how its done now so I don't want any cock ups,"

he barked, arms crossed over his vest as he surveyed his troops expectantly. Lyle was the next to step forwards, eyes already locked onto a cyan Ikran, but Gaia had had enough. Sprinting towards him she put her hands on his chest to push him back, sure that one of them would die if they all tried the Colonel's methods.

"No, you need to bind their mouths before you attempt to bond, it's very dangerous to do it this way."

Miles had already marched to her side, ripping her away from his corporal by the handle of her bag to shoot her a menacing scowl.

"If you're going to get in the way of my orders I won't hesitate to have you removed from my mission,"

he scolded, face leaning in close as an act of intimidation.

"Well it's a good thing I'm not here on your orders then, I'm here by request from General Ardmoure, and I say you need to tie their mouths unless you want to get your whole squad killed,"

she bit back, no longer holding the same fear for the man she used to, especially now she was able to meet his eye without craning her neck. Her defiance caused low gasps to sound from around her, even Lyle wearing a startled look as his eyes bounced between her and the Colonel. And she could tell Miles was seething with anger, but he did not attempt to challenge her words, knowing that she was correct, he only responded,

"fine, you are to tie the mouths of the Ikrans shut before bonding, understood?"

his eyes were trained on Lyle, allowing her to breathe finally without the tense glare of his amber eyes.

Eventually, all of the recombs were able to bond, being instructed by Gaia to fly with them immediately to confirm the union, leaving the rock face barren, aside from her and Miles, an uncomfortable silence settling between them both in the soldier's absences.

"That was really stupid you know, you could have died,"

she spat, rotating her body to face him, watching the way he stood with one hand rested against the neck of his Ikran.

"As stupid as deciding to come on a dangerous mission with no military training?"

He snarled, letting go of his Ikran and moving closer to her, chest pushed forward as he held her furious gaze.

"You're still angry about that? It's my decision,"

she spoke in confusion, having thought they'd ironed out this spat only a few days ago.

"Still angry? of course I'm still fucking angry darling, you can't ever listen to orders can you."

His tone was sardonic as he marched closer, gripping her arm in his large blue hand as he dragged her into a dark cave, away from the prying eyes of his team.

"You really know how to get under my skin, don't you sunshine,"

he growled, pressing her against the wall with his body weight as she felt one leg slip into the gap between her thighs, making her breath hitch at the intimate contact. Suddenly he was all over her, lips and teeth against her neck as he sucked with heavy breaths, gripping her waist like a vice to pull her tighter against him, allowing her to feel something hard resting on her leg.

"Miles,"

she mewled, running her hands up and down his muscular back whilst he continued his assault on her neck, letting out a small yelp when she felt him sink his fangs into the exposed skin of her shoulder, which she was sure would leave a mark.

"Come 'ere baby,"

he rasped, running his tongue over his teeth before smashing his mouth against hers in a heated, messy kiss that caused fire to ignite between her thighs, subtly moving against the leg that was clenching against her core. She pulled away panting, pressing her head against the cave wall, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of the friction against her clothed cunt.

"You gonna cum on my thigh huh? not so tough now are you baby?"

He growled, moving his leg in time with her hips, making her stifle a moan as she felt the coil inside you tighten faster than she would like to admit. She hung onto his shoulders, losing the strength to stand as she felt her oncoming climax whilst Miles continued to kiss and nip at her skin, holding her up in his arms.

"Come on sweetheart, you can do it,"

he encouraged, giving her a smack on the ass, massaging her stinging flesh after the fact, and she couldn't contain the noises that escaped her mouth, choking moans and whines filling the cave as she shamefully orgasmed against him, her body shaking with the force. His hand slapped against her mouth with wide eyes as he watched her come undone, a sense of smug pride filling him at the sight; yet they were both caught off guard by the sound of Lyle Wainfleet calling out in the darkness,

"Colonel, are you in here?"

They both swiftly shuffled away from one another, attempting to straighten out their hair and clothes in the darkness, not wanting to announce to the whole squad what they had just been doing.

"Yes Lyle, go and tell the others to wait for me and Gaia by their Ikrans,"

he commanded, voice surprisingly steady all things considered, and he waited to hear the sound of boots retreating before leaning down to capture her lips in his once more.

"You ready to go baby?"

he asked, running his fingers softly against her arm, she loved the way he always took care of her in these moments, never teasing her when she felt this vulnerable.

"Yeah, I'm ready Miles,"

she breathed, feeling his hand intertwine with hers to lead her toward the light at the mouth of the cave. She assumed that despite her best efforts, she looked a little dishevelled when they both emerged, hoping that the recoms assumed they were having a domestic and not borderline fucking. Either way, they kept their glances constrained, obviously not wanting to piss of Quaritch any further as he hopped onto the Ikran he affectionately called Cupcake, lending Gaia a hand to pull her up in front of him, before calling out curtly to his troops.

"We're heading back to the base, follow me in formation."

She sucked in a breath, leaning down to cling onto Cupcake for dear life as she plunged over the edge of the cliff, feeling an arm wrap around her waist to steady her as she fell.

"Whooo this so fucking amazing,"

she heard one of the troops call from behind, making her smile against the Ikran she had wrapped herself around. Subsequently, she felt a pat to her thigh making her look over her shoulder to see Miles sporting a shit-eating grin.

"As much as I enjoy the view, are you gonna stay down there the whole way back?"

He teased, eyes flicking towards her ass sitting much too close to his crotch, which she noticed was still somewhat engorged, making her blush and shoot up so fast she almost knocked him backwards with the force.

"Jesus sunshine, try not to kill us both,"

he huffed, holding her close with one arm as he flew point back to base, grinning smugly whenever he caught a glimpse of the distinctive bite mark settled between the stripes of her delicate shoulder, reminding himself that he should definitely give her another in her human form.

"I'm sorry sir,"

she teased back, not missing the way he stiffened behind her at the nickname, and in that moment everything seemed so perfect, she thought nothing could destroy it, nothing at all.

Taglist:

@ab-haya

@isabellekenway

@mechformers

@lvangel98

@htnw004

@jayedillon

@violet-19999

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

#miles quaritch #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch fluff #recombinant miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #navi quaritch #recom squad #recom quaritch #avatar movie #avatar fanfiction #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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perkeleen-lavellan · 4 months

Text

So about that Avatar game. I have some thoughts. Before I can get into those thoughts I need to preface this with;

I do not care whether or not you find James Cameron's Avatar movies and their plots boring. I do not care if you did not connect to those characters. I need you to understand that I am looking at this game as its own work of art, separate from the movies and their production.

Now, with that out of the way, Frontiers of Pandora. It's kind of underwhelming, huh?

First, let's get the praise out of the way. The construction of the world and its biology is pretty amazing. The creature design and flora design is wonderful, you can see that that's where the input from Lightstorm Entertainment (James Cameron's production company) was most actively going. The game world is beautiful, it looks and feels exactly like Pandora, I have no complaints there.

The combat gameplay is okay. I find Ubisoft's combat mechanics range from okay to very fun, and this time I think it's closer to okay than very fun. The reason for that is, that while the archery and gunplay plays okay, there is no real melee combat, and worse, the stealth is straight up unplayable.

The stealth relies on a hacking minigame a lot, which gets super unwieldy when you're trying to hack a dozen enemy mech suits, but they all keep moving away from range before you can finish the minigame that takes way too long to complete, for a minigame that happens in real game time. And in addition the enemy AI seems to spot you way easily, often it feels like the combat areas don't have enough covers in their geography. In short, stealth, something that would have added some much needed variety to the combat gameplay, is unplayable as it currently exists.

But this isn't what's really been eating at me, oooh no. If you know me, you know that I am not so much a gamer, as I am an enjoyer of stories who tolerates video games around them. Sometimes even enjoys them, to be honest. So I invite you to join me, and hear the gospel that I now have to share about the state of the story of Avatar Frontiers of Pandora.

It falls so damn flat!

I feel like this is a game that really could have actually benefitted from the game mechanic in recent Ubisoft games, which admittedly is often quite performative, wherein the player is given some dialogue choices, usually mainly for flavour. The choice to say a thing this way or that way. To be clear, the story should still remain linear, since clearly that was the intention. But by giving the player character that small subtle choice, the game could have alleviated its biggest flaw, which is that it failed to make me care.

It failed to make me care about the various members of the Aranahe and the Zeswa clans. It failed to make me care about the PCs own childhood friends. It failed to make me care about the members of the Resistance, and it failed to make me care about the villains. And I am predisposed to caring. I like Avatar, I think it's cool. I think Pandora is cool. I thought The Way Of The Water managed to deepen the characters of Cameron's existing movie, while also making me care about at least 5 completely new characters, and one old previously quite one dimensional character. A villain! That movie was packed with a lot of cast and it still took the time to allow me to connect with every one of those major characters. So why won't this video game?

The player character's (who I will from now on refer as the Sarentu) childhood friends would have been the natural characters to focus on during this game. You are literally kidnapped, taken to a reservation school to be groomed, and witnessed the Sarentu's sister being murdered by your kidnappers together. That event should have been something to continuously haunt the Sarentu and their friends' journey. But the death of the Sarentu's sister is something that is only mentioned off handedly a few times in the early game. The Sarentu meets many Na'vi who have had loved ones die by human hands, and yet not once have I heard the Sarentu say "I know that grief too friend". Shouldn't that have come up at least once with Etuwa, whose mother's ghost is one that haunts the main quest of the Aranahe? This is where the option for the player to have flavour choice might have come in. You could have had the option to share the story of your sister with Etuwa, or her father, or choose not to.

The childhood friends the Sarentu escapes with quickly turn into an after thought. They hang around the Resistance Base doing fuck all. Which is infuriating, when the game already did the work of setting each of them up enough to give them a clear internal conflict they are all dealing with on their own. I really expected to see them way more in the story, with the way the beginning set it up. But they hardly even comment on the various things happening around them. I would have thought they would at least have an occasional opinion to share, as the story progressed. So far I've only experienced one side quest, after the initial scene with all of you connecting with the Tarsyu flower, where Teylan turned up on location as a surprise, actually outside the base.

The Resistance itself seems to be trapped in Dyer's Bowl, despite the Sarentu eventually rediscovering many of their former bases, and bringing them back online. But no one ever turns up at those bases, they only serve as stashes and fast travel points.

What is sorely lacking from the story of Frontier's of Pandora is some kind of an emotional connection between the Sarentu and the characters that they meet. That is to say, the emotional connection is right there, in the grief over the dead sister and the reclamation of their stolen culture, but the game rarely if ever allows the Sarentu to express that.

And despite what many people think about the movies, Avatar is and always has been a character focused story. Yes, the message of that story is hugely environmentalist and anti-capitalist, but it was still always told through character drama. It's just that the environment surrounding those characters is a character of its own, and in Frontiers of Pandora the character that got the most screen time.

#avatar frontiers of pandora #james cameron avatar #avatar #frontiers of pandora #sarentu #the sarentu #meta #game criticism #yes i am spontaeneously writing an entire goddamn review of this game #i said i was homosexual about it what did you expect

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katyspersonal · 8 months

Note

Do you think that there are characters who stand for absolute justice or absolute evil in bb？🤔

This is a hard question! Almost everyone in Bloodborne is morally grey in terms of motivation, I'd say! In terms of intention. For example, Alfred is a religious fanatic that beats Annalise into a bloody mess in """righteous""" quest, but in his head he is doing a "good" thing as he is convinced Vilebloods are just bad and it is "not fair" that Logarius has to suffer because of one instead of being buried. Micolash has done uncountable amount of horrible things, but in his head humanity was "not worth it" anyway and evolution and knowledge is worthy of any sacrifice. In fact, it is actually a reasonable assumption considering the setting and all the cosmic horrors Byrgenwerth scholars have learned! Suspicious Beggar is literally just trying to survive, trapped between being not a full human neither a no-longer-sapien, "innocent" beast. You can see why this is so complicated...

The bad guys

I'd say Valtr is the closest to being 'absolute evil'! Vermin is something that could only be seen during keeping his rune burnt into mind, but every Hunter defeated with Impurity in mind + every boss defeated with a League confederate drops Vermin. We thus could assume that virtually everyone has Vermin... or does not, because lore calls it an "illusion". But regardless of interpretation, Valtr is an absolute madman that keeps pulling people into a crazy cultish activity to exterminate all life. But even then, it is closer to 'May Chaos take the world' issue than to simply revelling in relentless murder. Even Valtr tries to help the world, albeit by cleansing it from the life itself sdhfhds Fromsoft is very good at writing insanity, which by definition can't be true evil.

Amelia is a good candidate for being true evil person - maybe long after Laurence's corruption and death, the head clerics willingly exist on borrowed time! They know the blood is not as efficient as it is preached, they know they are not helping Yharnam's citizens, they know they're feeding on what the decaying city still has to offer, they know their end will come sooner or later but they choose to be selfish and use it up while they can. But even then, how can we be sure Amelia was not indoctrinated and brainwashed since childhood and is not stuck in the idea that such existence is "honorable" and DOES something? How can we know whether she has a successor? In my headcanons, she actually became aware and deliberately did not leave a successor (and ate the superiors that pulled her into all this, actually!). So the corrupt system ends on her!

And, of course, Flora / Moon Presence. The one who benefits from the vicious cycle of blood and hunt, yet also somehow from people that attempt evolution through cosmic knowledge. It is just hard to judge a deity from the standpoint of human morals.... But she is more or less a leech on humanity, especially on its suffering, despair and blood. I think I'll count her too... I guess.

The good guys

This one is so much more simple! We have the little girls and their mother Viola, who are easily just a simple family that wants to live! Gascoigne might be more complicated, especially since he's falling for blood-drunkness and paranoia. He announces he won't take any chances with people even if they are not beasts yet! Gilbert, Lonely Old Dear and Arianna also are probably just good people that want to live and do their thing. (Narrow-Minded Man not so much because he is a judgemental asshole that will poison people's daily lives outside of the hunt xd)

Simon certainly stands for justice. He wants the truth to be uncovered, and for the Nightmare to lose its fuel so people do not have to suffer for generations for the sins of their ancestors! I think Henriett is a good girl too - her items and boss summons imply that she used to work with the Healing Church but detracted. However, she is still a hunter, fashioning herself as one of the old ones (this is what 'default' Hunter set is). And she only kills Amelia after she becomes a beast despite her gripe with the Healing Church, right?

And, of course....

According to Miyazaki, Iosefka and especially the Imposter are good and heroic! I can absolutely see the intention. Iosefka is simply a good doctor that tries her best, and she also notably cleans the blood she gives from the blood cells. I've had a theory on how it is useful and very responsible, but additionally, since she is a white doctor, meddling with the holy blood this way should be... heretical? Iosefka disobeys dogmas of her own institution because "cleansed" blood will be better and with less side effects. Fauxsefka, on the other hand, is turning people into Kin so they physically can't become beasts instead. Her kind of good, again, deals with insanity. For an average person, what she's doing makes no sense and she appears to be evil doctor experimenting on poor people... But in the bigger scheme of lore in its entirety, she has a good point. Beasthood stems from humanity... Remove the humanity from humans - and they are safe! She even says this herself, that "we should transcend our stupidity" or something. Think of Micolash, but... kinder? Or even Valtr, but kinder. xd Miyazaki was right that what makes her a hero and not a villain is hard to understand, but I do!

Thanks for the ask! It was interesting to think about! I love philosophy!

#bloodborne #imposter iosefka #moon presence #valtr master of the league #i dunno whether to tag other characters they're less of a focal point tbh #ask replies #bloodborne headcanons

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clavissionary-position · 2 years

Text

Camping on Silvio's Private Island Event

A non-exhaustive list of things we learn about Keith and Gilbert (or get further confirmation about)

spoilers

I haven't read the Rio/Silvio ending yet

I used a shaky translator and am summarizing from memory (too lazy to revisit my screenshots orz), so please forgive inaccuracies and feel free to correct me or add anything I may have forgotten!

This is not a full-fledged summary of the event

Keith

He is very knowledgeable about medicinal herbs (their properties, their origin). When Emma suggests they go exploring the island, he expresses his interest in looking at the flora.

Sariel says that alter!Keith is quite popular among women according to rumors. Shy!Keith had no idea, and he becomes rather glum upon learning this.

He gets along with Gilbert fairly well, especially compared to others. He even considers offering Gilbert his lap to rest his head on when Gilbert overheats on the island. And when nobody else is interested in what Gilbert tries to propose as a campfire activity, Keith comes to his defense and asks that they all at least hear Gilbert out.

He's reminded of his youth when they're all splashing around in the river.

As a kid he dreamed of having adventures like Silvio has had on his many voyages. He praises Silvio for being an excellent explorer and Silvio blushes from embarrassment.

Gilbert

Reacts poorly to climate change? He overheats when they arrive on the island. Sariel has to hold a parasol over him while Keith fans him as he lays out on the beach. But then the instant Emma's like "I want to go exploring!" he gets up and volunteers to come along and hums merrily on his way. So was he faking (just to get Emma to offer her lap for him to sleep on)? Does that count as a "lie" if he was?

When Sariel comments that he felt murderous intent from Gilbert, Gilbert laughs it off and says that murderous intent comes to him as easily as breathing.

Likes to stir the pot. When the group encounters bats in a cave he's like, "I wonder what would happen if I disturbed them with my cane"

Apparently gets really winded from running (but this is also super sus to me... Like he could have just been faking it so he could stay close to Emma and then invite her to play in the water)

Suggests playing in the water in the first place because it's something he apparently picked up when he was visiting/inspecting an orphanage.

Is constantly heckling Sariel and even has the balls to jokingly call him "Papa" XD Poor Sariel can't catch a break from hellcats.

Has experience with keys/lock-picking

Values the time spent in the present, just laughing and having fun, because you never know when you might die.

In the same vein, he appreciates the call to adventure (treasure-hunting, for example). Even though the key he finds could easily be explained away by Silvio, he prefers to find out what the key goes to himself.

He prefers to be alone when he's trying to think. Man left camp and sat on a stump in the forest to contemplate the key T_T

Rarely attends social gatherings and has no interest in women in Obsidian

His campfire activity suggestion is to talk about each other's love life, though of course he refuses to tell anyone who he's been eyeing (leading Emma to speculate that it's unrequited love on Gilbert's part, and not, in fact, her orz)

#ikepri gilbert #ikepri keith #gilbert von obsidian #keith howell #ikemen prince gilbert #ikemen prince keith #ikepri spoilers #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri #ikemen prince #atelier ikepri diaries #ikepri jp

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101flavoursofweird · 11 months

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Layton & Katia: Kindred Spirits

This moment where Layton firsts sees Katia and they have a stare-off always felt odd to me. And not just because Layton’s eyes are HUGE For the player, Katia is being introduced as a main character here, much like how Flora and Clive are in their games. But Layton’s fascination towards those two feels more understandable; Flora is disguised as a ‘mysterious girl’, different from the other villagers, and Clive is disguised as ‘Future Luke’. Both of them either seek Layton out, or call upon his help.

But what connection could Katia Anderson have to Hershel Layton?

When they’re investigating Dropstone, Layton and Luke learn of the Andersons— a beloved founding family of the village. They hear about how Mr Anderson has fallen out with his daughter, Katia, since Sophia died. The family’s servants are very fond of Katia, so much that they all come to see her off on the train, behind her father’s back. Layton muses that Katia must be beautiful and refined.

Moments before they board the train, Mr Anderson begs for Layton to pass on a message to Katia: Her father wishes she’d come home. Katia is his only child and she means everything to him. He’d be forever in Layton’s debt if Layton could help.

So, here, Layton could be looking at Katia with Mr Anderson’s plea in mind… But what if it’s more than that?

I think Katia reminds Layton of his younger self.

Layton’s Miracle Mask profile describes how, as a 17-year-old, he was ‘pampered and adored by the people of Stansbury’. This changed, however, after Hershel returned from Akbadain without Randall.

While I’m sure the residents of Stansbury didn’t all believe Layton murdered Randall, Layton was still consumed with guilt over Randall’s death. He agreed to accompany Randall to the ruins, after all, and he couldn’t save Randall from falling in the end. When Layton returned home, his parents ‘gave him the hardest scolding of his life’ and then ‘the warmest hug’.

Dalston notes how Angela ‘drove Layton out of town’ (though, Layton wrote in his journal about how Angela ‘never left the house’)… Whatever the case, Hershel felt so guilty that he decided to leave Stansbury to attend university in London. In the years following Randall’s ‘death’, Stansbury became a ghost town as the residents moved away…

I wonder if Layton thinks of Stansbury— over eighteen years later— when Mr Anderson confides in him about Sophia and fears for the fate of Dropstone? ‘Dropstone must never be allowed to die and wither like so many other villages…’

A rift has formed between the Anderson family, since Sophia’s death. Perhaps Mr Anderson fears this rift will affect Dropstone… (Much like how Randall’s death devastated Stanbsury…)

With Katia suddenly setting out on an adventure, against her father’s interests, it’s easy to see how Layton would be concerned too. Layton and his parents are very close, but his mother constantly worries over him— much like Mr Anderson with Katia. Layton suffered a loss as a teenager and he chose to leave his hometown— much like Katia. If you want a more recent ‘death’, Layton thought Dr Scharder had died and jumped on a train a few days later to find out why.

Both Layton and Katia are well-liked, but they’re quiet, solitary characters who keep their intentions close to the chest. When Inspector Chelmey comes to investigate Dr. Scharder’s death, Layton decides conduct ‘his own investigation’ behind Chelmey’s back. At the hotel in Folsense, Katia implores Layton to give her the Elysian Box, but Katia refuses to tell him why. Both Layton and Katia struggle to accept the help of others…

But, that doesn’t mean they will ignore other people in need! Layton’s always helping random people with mysteries or puzzles. On the road to Herzen Castle, it’s implied that Katia leaves lanterns for Layton and Luke to light the forest path. Plus, Katia is willing to guide Luke and Layton out of Herzen Castle.

Katia is frightened when they encounter Anton and he mistakes her for Sophia. She trusts Layton enough to hide behind him.

(Huh, Layton also must have had an identity-crisis when he took on Randall’s legacy as an archaeologist, or when he learned he’d inherited his name from his older brother…)

It always bugged me how Layton interrupted Katia when she was trying to explain everything to Anton… but it is kind of understandable, if he’s worried Anton might lash out at Katia. It’s even kind of sweet, when you remember Layton is watching out for Katia, as Mr Anderson asked. Katia is missing her father and Layton is missing Flora, his adopted daughter.

When the gang escape from the castle and Anton is revealed to be an old man, he finally acknowledges Katia as his grandfather.

The look on Katia’s face here… my heart… reminds me of THIS:

Hershel was able to find out the truth about what happened to Randall, and the truth about his birth family— just as Katia found out about her family’s history.

They’ve reunited with lost loved ones and their respective journeys are over, for now.

#Professor Layton #Hershel Layton #Katia Anderson #parallels #diabolical box #pandora’s box #(The US version wins this round for the best title!)#Character analysis #Mr Anderson #Long post #I know I’ve complained about the pacing issues and plot holes in PL2 and how some characters were just left behind (like FLORA AND ANDERSON #But if you look just below the surface it’s such an amazing game #I can’t say it’s my favourite in the series but it’s definitely up there

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lena-rambles · 1 year

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writeblr intro //

hi, i'm lena! i've been on tumblr since 2019, mostly in fandom spaces. i had a writeblr a few years ago, but it didn't last long — so here i am again, with a new blog for my writing.

me ; lena, she/her, 18, disaster lesbian, pisces

happy things ; music and piano, the colour red, reading, autumn, puns, reinaeiry, learning, and writing of course

fiction favs ; moral ambiguity, lgbtq+ themes, fantasy, historical fiction, found family, complex relationships, enemies to lovers, literature references and parallels, tragic lovers, fantasy politics

other ; tag and ask game friendly, open ask box and dms, and pls send me your wips!

fav reads ; much ado about nothing (shakespeare), ballad of songbirds and snakes (collins), red white and royal blue (mcquiston), as old as time (braswell), the false prince (nielsen)

current wips //

the kingdoms ; my indulgent sprawling medieval fantasy world with no plot. includes fantasy politics, diverse cultures, conlangs, and a large cast of lovable fiends.

long live the queen ; a regency-adjacent royal murder mystery. it's five years after vallera's civil war, and tensions are still running high. when the queen suddenly dies, her oldest daughter believes there was more to it than simply illness. themes of grief, familial bonds, loyalty, coming of age, politics, arranged marriages, and what it means to be a just queen when all you want to do is protect your siblings. (wip intro)

disney but gay ; shamelessly inspired by reinaeiry's but it's gay covers. disney retellings where i try to draw more from the folktales themselves and everyone's sapphic. things i love about this series: sleeping beauty is a dream-sharing soulmate au, belle has anxiety, snow white and flora are exes, and the beast's name is amarante after patricia mckillip's "lady of the skulls".

other wips ; have a lot of other wips running through my brain, even some that i have no intention of returning to but still have occasional revelations about. linked is my side blog for quote, photo, etc. reblogs without context. follow + ask questions if you want lol

if you have wips with any of the above themes, tag me! i'd love to see them :)

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rpgsandbox · 1 year

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25 Magical Artifact Adventure Seeds

by Robb at readytorole.com

The Chaos Blade is said to be a sword forged in the fires of the world when it was still forming. The since ruined Temple of Order were the last known keepers of the accursed weapon but murmurs have emerged of many treasure hunters looking for it.

The rise of demons serving under the dark god has led to an increased search for the lost temple of the goddess of love. Her holy weapon, the maul Heartbreaker, is the only weapon known that could defeat the dark god, her former lover.

The Staff of Soulcatching has made its way into the hands of the mad queen and she is already abusing the powers of it. A rogue faction has been seeking adventurers brave enough to siege the castle before she siphons the souls of her entire city.

A pair of throwing daggers, Lionspride and Wolfspack, are entombed in a statue of two brother generals stabbing each other at their final battle. Many have tried to pry them from the statue but magic repels all but siblings from even trying.

A famous escape artist was once the owner of the aptly named Doordagger; a dagger that could carve a door into any surface. She and the crew of the ship that were detaining her met their end when she thought to carve a door into the bottom of the ship, not expecting to immediately flood the ship and drown with her captors.

Originally a gift to mortals by the god of nature, the Longbow of the Harvest can spread and speed up the growth of flora by being cast over any land. A group of misguided druids have gotten their hands on it and now spread briers and poisonous plants towards civilization as a way to make them atone for their perceived crimes against nature.

The Maze of the Laughing God is home to a few treasures and many a trap, but the only ones ever recovered were the Lockpick Bolts used to magically undo locks from a distance. After the last bolt was used by a notorious criminal they are said to have returned to the maze, waiting to be won again.

In the underground tunnels that run beneath the dwarven mountains the Stoneshield has fallen into the hands of the wretched trolls. While they are unsure of how to wield its power, their shaman king wears it as a belt buckle to mock those who once had it.

A shield known as The Tower is famous for its ability to house its wielder inside of a magical tower at a moment’s notice. However, after the last wielder refused to leave, many feared his death, and many more feared so after seeing and hearing signs of the undead coming from the magical tower.

The otherworldly Djinnplate, crafted by the efreeti and other djinn, was stored in a magic lamp much as they sometimes are imprisoned. The effects of this wondrous armor are not known to mortals, but that has not stopped dragons of terrible renown from fighting over the lamp that holds the relic.

The Crowfeather Robe has been the ire of many an adventurer who sought to slay the infamous lich of the wastes. Whenever his defeat is imminent he simply turns into a murder of crows, flying away and appearing at whatever crow is most suitable to him as he returns to his lair.

The Cloak of the Colorless once gave a mercenary power to best the most experienced swordsmen in single battle. Misconstruing the intent of the cloak, a dryad that lived inside of a painting lured the mercenary inside where he would be forced to live in color without a way out of the painting.

They say to be wary of old women gambling away magic garments on the side of the road to travelers. A hag is known to lose away the Twicehexed Mantle to those down on their luck, first bringing them great fortune and then having them lose it all and then some for the entertainment of the hag.

In the dungeon of woe lies a relic that is key to escaping through its mouse-sized hallways. The Belt of Shrinking allows the wearer to tighten the belt, growing smaller as they do so until they stop pulling on it, though loosening it doesn’t seem to make you grow any larger.

The tribes of the desert have a legend that says inside every shooting star is a ring that will imbue the wearer with the strength of the star itself. One recently crashed down in the desert and the tribes have been in conflict over it ever since.

On the wrist of a most loved king in an ancient tomb is the Bracelet of the Worldeater. The bracelet is said to have been the key to destroying the entire world and was given to the king as a way to stop it from falling into the wrong hands. The sight of skeletons stirring in the tomb has given way to a terrible feeling of despair around the world.

In the Hall of the Unseen is the Ring of the Observer, a ring which allows anyone looking through it to see any and all invisible matter. The irony is that the Hall of the Unseen can only be seen through the ring, but the ring itself is visible to any who approach the hall, unable to reach it through invisible walls and protected by invisible creatures.

The prince of the cloud giants wears the Sun Necklace as a bracelet around his wrist. In truth the necklace can command the sun stay where it is or call it in the night, but even when told the prince refuses to give it up or use its power for good.

A fanatical group of anti-magic crusaders have taken up the Nullmagic Axe as a way to stop the use of magic in the region. The axe has been able to slice through magical barriers and weapons with ease, and effectively cuts down those with magic in their veins.

Yesterday’s Orb allows one to scry into events of the past and get a true understanding of history. A cult of chronomancers have seen to taking and hiding the orb as they fear some might use its power to change the timeline of the world and alter history and future both.

Alongside many other banners outside of a dragon’s cave is the Stoneheart Banner. Simply being in the presence of the immaculate banner removes the fear from mortals in the face of certain death, which the dragon has come to appreciate as his meals become more frequent.

Underneath a landslide are the Boots of the Immovable. What is not immovable is the rest of the body of one wearing these boots, which was found bloody and flattened at the bottom of the landslide.

After the king was poisoned, it was discovered his chef had been using a mysterious Gemstone of Flavor that had the ability to mask or enhance the flavors of any ingredients. When asked why he would do such a thing to his king the chef replied that the gemstone told him to.

A thousand years ago, a crazed gnomish sorcerer created the Clockwork Cube of Destruction. It laid dormant in his workshop until recently when it was seen rolling around the countryside, slaughtering livestock by simply touching them.

The archmage has put out a discrete call for adventurers to retrieve a stolen artifact of his. He claims that a thief must have bypassed his magical securities to take his Bag of Portals, which can pull any creature from any plane of existence randomly.

#RPG #Dungeons and Dragons #adventure hooks

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npdclaraoswald · 2 years

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Another Instagram crosspost! I made a post of my favorite queer books last pride month, so here's some of my recent faves!

ID in alt text and book summaries under the cut.

Borderline by Mishell Baker follows a young woman named Millie recruited into an organization that guards the border between our world and the fae world. Artistic inspiration comes from a mystical tether to a fae and when a fae noble goes missing goes missing, Millie, despite being a new recruit, has to investigate across LA, meeting fae nobles and celebrities who owe their fame to their bond. Bisexual

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger takes place in a fictionalized America where magic is normal. Elatsoe, a young Lipan Apache girl can summon the ghosts of dead animals. One night, she is visited in a dream by her cousin who tells her he has been murdered, though his death has officially been ruled an accident. Elatsoe travels to his town to investigate and encounters magical beings and a town full of secrets. Asexual

The Wicker King by K Ancrum follows a popular boy and a misfit who maintain a close and intense friendship despite their social differences. Jack begins experiencing visions of a parallel world existing alongside their own and demands August's help in fulfilling the prophecy the fantasy world centers around. The two become more and more codependent upon each other as they try to figure out whether Jack is hallucinating and how to fulfill the prophecy if it is real. Mlm- I don't remember if they specify any labels.

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant follows multiple perspectives of the crew of a ship going out to investigate the sinking of one of the company's other ships seven years prior. The sunken ship had been out to film a mockumentery on the existence of mermaids, but before they sank, they uploaded incredibly realistic footage of the crew being attacked by mermaids. The new ship is crewed by scientists and media personnel to discover both what happened to the other ship and whether the mermaid attack was real. Main character is bisexual with a lesbian love interest.

Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee follows an artist in a fantastical version of Korea during Japanese colonization. Though Jebi has no interest in politics and is perfectly happy to live under colonization as long as they get to paint, their sister hates the colonizers and kicks them out of the house when they apply for an artist's position in the colonial government. While in the government's employ though, Jebi discovers some of the horrors the government regularly commits and resolves to steal the government's dragon automaton and fight back. Nonbinary

The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie Tokuda-Hall takes place in a fantasy world that is divided by colonialism. Evelyn, the daughter of a noble family, is forced onto a ship by her mother to be delivered to her arranged husband. Flora, who has taken on the identity as Florian the pirate, is part of the pirate crew who masquerade as a transport ship before selling the passengers into slavery. Flora is assigned to guard Evelyn during their journey as she will fetch the highest price once sold, but the two begin to bond. Especially when the rest of the crew capture a mermaid that they plan to sell as well. Florian and Evelyn resolve to free the mermaid and escape together. Lesbian and nonbinary.

Our Bloody Pearl by DN Bryn follows Perle, a mute siren who has been captured and tortued by the pirate captain Kian as a prize. When Kian's ship is attacked by another pirate, Dejean, he finds and promises to free Perle, but because they are so injured from Kian's treatment, Dejean must take them back to his island to heal. The two slowly warm to each other as Perle heals and they hide from Kian, who is intent on revenge. Intersex and asexual

Eight Kinky Nights by Xan West follows Jordan, who just got divorced and moved to New York for her new job and is rooming with Leah, her best friend of decades. Because her ex wife wasn't interested in kink, Jordan has no experience with BDSM despite desperately wanting to be part of the community and explore herself as a dom. Since Leah is an experienced sub and works as a sex educator, she introduces Jordan to members of the community and decides that her Haunnuka gift to Jordan will be eight lessons on kink. Lesbian and grey ace

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé follows Devon and Chiamaka, the only two black students at a prestigious private school. Devon is a scholarship student and a loner and Chimaka is rich, popular, and Head Girl. They have nothing in common before they both become the only targets of Aces- an anonymous online bully who starts outing all of their secrets and tormenting them. The two must work together to figure out the mystery behind Aces and why they are being targeted. Gay and sapphic

Full Disclosure by Camryn Garrett follows Simone, a young HIV+ girl who is starting over at a new school after being forced to leave the old one as a result of serophobic bullying. When she starts crushing on and hanging out with a popular boy in school, she begins receiving anonymous letters threatening to out her as HIV+ if she doesn't leave stop spending time with him. She must decide what to do while attending a support group for other HIV+ teens and learning more about the community. Bisexual

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters follows three people. Ames detransitioned after experiencing a violent hate crime and is now presenting as a man and in a casual relationship with his boss, a straight woman named Katrina. When Katrina becomes pregnant and informs Ames that she does not want to be a single mother and will only keep the baby if Ames enters into a committed relationship with her, Ames realizes he cannot live the rest of his life with someone who sees him as a man. So he invites Reese, another trans woman and his ex who broke up with him when he detransitioned, to co-parent with them since Reese has always wanted to be a mother and he knows Reese understands that though he presents as a man, he is not cisgender. The three try to make their new relationship work as the pregnancy continues. Trans, lesbian, detransition

Mooncakes by Wendy Xu and Suzanne Walker follows a young witch who comes across her childhood crush, a werewolf, fighting a demon in the woods. The two of them investigate the demon and reconnect. Nonbinary

The Tea Dragon Society by K O'Neill follows a young blacksmith learning how to care for Tea Dragons and bonding with the dragons' care takers' young ward. Nonbinary, gay

Exile and Pride: Disability, Queerness, and Liberation by Eli Clare is an essay collection centering on disability, class, queer identity, and environmental justice. Author IDed as a lesbian at the time of writing, but recent editions contain a forward clarifying him as trans

Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel by Julian K Jarobe is a short story collection featuring sci fi and fantasy stories. Variety of representation

A Place Called No Homeland by Kai Cheng Thom is a poetry collection centering race, sexuality, gender, and trauma. Trans

The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo is a Great Gatsby retelling focusing on Jordan Baker, who in this version is Vietnamese and was adopted into the Baker family. It is also set in a fantastical version of the 1920s where Gatsby's magic is more of his gilded glamour and Jordan's is one more factor in how her peers exoticize her. We follow the events of the original book and her relationship with Daisy while Jordan reflects on being a queer Asian woman who is treated like an exotic attraction by her peers. Bisexual

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland takes place in a world in which during the Civil War, zombies began to rise. The war was quickly ended in order to fight the zombies, but the fighters on the front lines are black and Native people who are forcibly conscripted into service at the age of eleven. Jane is training in both fighting and ettiquite so that she can serve as a bodyguard to upper class women, but when one of her friend's little sister goes missing, she begins investigating the disappearance that leads her to a conspiracy. Bisexual