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Who I write for
Avatar
Call of Duty
Not today Justin
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

izzy's playlists!
Mike Driver
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

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đŞź
noise dept.
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation
Three Goblin Art
No title available
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

JVL

Origami Around

romaâ

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
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@beautifullytragicmess
AO3
Who I write for
Avatar
Call of Duty
Can you give us something for older John/Simon/Johnny? Your choice who but just a little dark
Older!Johnny who always wanted to have kids but never had the time because he was in the SAS, deciding when heâs on the cusp of 40 to have a vasectomy
Older!Johnny deciding that he hasnât yet found a woman to wife up and doesnât want a bunch of kids with different women running around, so getting snipped is the solution
Older!Johnny who goes to see a doctor that shares a waiting room with an OBGYN doctor, and meets a single mother there whose on the fresh side of giving birth
Older!Johnny who strikes up a conversation while waiting for the appointment to discuss a vasectomy, where he learns that the baby daddy ran off with another woman
Older!Johnny who listens to the woman talking while her baby fusses, and has his future life flash before his eyes â rocking a baby to sleep, helping the little bairn take itâs first steps, helping mend scraped knees
Older!Johnny who decides, that no, it is not too late to have kids and he canât deprive his future wife thatâs sitting across from him this pretty woman more children
Older!Johnny who walks out of the appointment and takes his ageing maâs offer to inherit the country farmhouse cause his wife and baby need room to grow, and when it comes time to have more sibling for his wee little one, heâll need the room
Older!Johnny who connects with an old friend(s) to start pursuing the woman heâs gonna marry in exactly 1 year â that should be long enough of a wait to start trying for another
Older!Johnny who calls his ma and tells her that sheâs got to start knitting some baby clothes and prepare a nursery â heâs coming home for Christmas and bringing a wife and bairn for her to meet
Someoneâs bored đ
I did not get run off, so stop being so smug
I am taking a BREAK so I donât have burnout
But yes, letâs be a dick
Control//Problematic
Part 3
By Monday you couldnât wait to get back to work to see the look on Captain Priceâs face when he had found his gifts returned to him. He would open his office door and enter the room where he found relative peace compared to the natural hectic energy of the soldiers who ranked beneath him and see it there.
The basket with the wine, chocolates, lavender, and vanilla bath bombs that had been returned with a note reminding the Captain that he had to finish the paperwork he had fallen behind on.
He was famous for putting off the necessary paperwork that needed to be completed and filed, choosing to focus more on the physical aspects of being the leader of an elite unit rather than the pencil pushing.
I am taking a break from writing for Avatar and focusing back on my other Call Of Duty WIPâs
My interactions with Avatar are low compared to when I started and it is making me lose a lot of motivation and energy right now to continue to write when I feel like Iâm not getting a lot of interest
I promise it wonât be forever but for my own mental health I need to focus on something else
So for now there is a pause on Avatar (at least on Tumblr)
Thanks you âĽď¸âĽď¸
Part 2
Your feet moved along the densely packed path that led from the entrance to your familyâs kelku. You were incapable of slowing down even when passing elders of your village had scolded you for not watching where you were going.
You were a whizzing blur of braids that whipped behind you with every rushed jaunt you took, tail acting as a rudder that steered you around sharp corners. There was a sense of urgency that was only known to you, stemming from your desire to spend your day with the Sully family.
Which was opposed to sitting through one of your motherâs lessons on skinning, tanning and preparation of hides for usefulness in the clan.
Yes anything that is aonung with air trader reader, Brat sully, any sully, any reader we want
Vigil
Summary: On the anniversary of the Mangkwan attacking your clan, you light lanterns away from the main village in the memory of your family
Warnings: mentions of death, grief
There is a telling darkness that is only stifled by the glow of lanterns that you begin lighting underneath the cover of mangrove trees. The lengths of the trail that you have wandered to have brought you here, to an opening in the density of the mangrove trees that act as your own private solitude.
Here you kneel against the ground and feel the penetrating chill off the air that blows in off the shoreline, capable of cutting through the well-woven travelling wrap that you have bundled around yourself. It still carries the scent of your oldest sister, although the scent is fading you still cling to the clothing. You carry it with you and you wear it as if it is a safety blanket while your hands are shaking.
While you are trembling and struggling to light the flame that will illuminate the lantern and allow it to float when you release it. Your hands feel numb but not from the cold; from the grief that still makes it hard to catch your breath. The feeling of loss is poignant, and the devastation your clan suffered still weighs heavy upon you even a year later.
It is as hard for you to believe that a year has passed, as it is to understand why you were so lucky to be spared. Why had the Mangkwan clan attacked on the departure trip that you had not been on, instead of one of the many other excursions. These questions lay heavily on your mind and they are another catalyst that has you stumbling to light your lantern.
You can feel the phantom sensation of something invisible squeezing your throat until you cannot physically breathe. The strain of your body to inhale is deenergizing, it sucks out whatever fight you have until you are ready to collapse. And with the struggle to breathe, comes the first sorrowed, painful cry.
A cry and shaking hands that are calmed when another's hand settles on yours. The scent of saltwater, sun and musk is begins to infiltrate your senses, and you know which Metkayina has joined you here. You do not need to turn your head, you do not need to speak his name or even take a glance at the Na'vi who has joined you here.
"Let me help you." He speaks with a voice that carries warmth and comfort, and you lean back on your haunches, every muscle in your body feels exhausted from the bare minimum. Your eyes feel unfocused and distant as you look ahead at the sea that continues it's ever flowing motions while you feel as if your world is coming to a stop.
"It hurts." Two words that are so simplistic yet carry a crushing burden that ferries in the immense heartbreak that threatens you. The tightening of your throat is only furthered by the burning of tears that will soon roll down your cheeks.
"I know." Beside you, Ao'nung is helping light the flames that will feed the lanterns, and they will soon be released in memory of the things you lost. The people who you will never again be able to see while you are still breathing; you will only ever see them in Eywa.
Your position shifts and you are no longer sitting on your haunches but you are sitting at the end of the trail. In the place where Ao'nung had come and carved out a place among the mangrove trees for you. Carefully cutting down the necessary trees to create this private place of mourning for you - the girl that he had spent years loving and waiting for.
"I ask myself why I was not there, why I could not have been there when the Mangkwan attacked my clan." You speak with a voice that shakes and trembles, wavers with the rising foreshadow of heavy tears that will run down your cheeks. "Why was I not taken with them?"
You turn your head ever so slightly to the right and see him, the boy that asked you to stay. The boy who had loved you for so long and had waited for you, was the same boy who created this place of mourning for you.
The Metkayina boy who had stayed up for steady portions of the night to watch you sleep sporadically, and if sleep did not find you then he would talk instead. He would lay your head on his lap as he brushed his fingers through your hair and allowed you to cry, or lay there in silence while you stared out at the opening of your shared marui.
Ao'nung was there for you then and he is here for you now. He does not have to ask; he knows you won't ask. Yet he helps anyway, he is here and he is helping you while your hands are incapable of igniting the flames because of the frigidness that makes your bones suffer as if they have been dipped in the ice waters of the far north.
"Ma syulang..." His voice is just as soft, just as tender as when he first arrived here to your private escape. You can see the look in his eyes, the emotional depth of empathy that clashes with the guilt that is blooming from the roots of relief.
Ao'nung leaves the lanterns alone for a moment and reaches for you; to touch your cheek and brush his thumb across your striped skin, wiping away a tear. "I would have lost you, ma muntxate. Your father made me promise that I would not let you go after them, after your sister and your sempul."
"I know." Another few tears roll down your cheeks and Ao'nung wipes them as well, he clears them off your skin and then he shifts his hands to cup your cheeks. He leans down just as he gently pulls you forward to rest his forehead against your own. Your eyes close but the tears do not stop flowing, not when Ao'nung begins to hum a song that you had not heard in far too long.
The words, the melody, they all belong to the lullaby your mother had sung to you when you were younger. The sound of it coming from Ao'nung's lips is a bittersweet marker of your life, knowing that you have your mate but you have lost your sisters and mother. And it hurts to know that you will be bringing a baby into your lives that will never know the love of your mother and sister's love. Your baby will have to rely on the stories that you will tell them while you are still not fully processed the grief.
"Let me carry some of the burden for you." Ao'nung ends the song with a statement, an offer, that does not require a statement in return.
He hands you one of the lanterns you have carried up here and he secures it in your hands, watching as you wrap your fingers around the bottom edge. When you are ready he brings a flame toward the wick and waits until the fire catches and as it does, his hands graze yours to help you hold the lantern steady.
He comforts you as you whisper a message to the lantern as if you are talking to your sisters, conveying everything you had wished you could tell them before they were taken from you. When you are done your message and ready to let the lantern go, Ao'nung helps with that as well. He helps you pull your hands off of the light that will be sent up to Eywa and then he helps you with another.
Over and over until your lanterns are gone; until you are alone with him. Once there is nothing left to light, Ao'nung steadies you in his lap as the exhaustion catches up to you, and you are naturally seeking for the grounding feeling of his arms tightening around you.
Beneath the glow of lanterns that are floating off against the background of brightly burning stars and bioluminescence, you are held by a Metkayina who wishes he could take your grief for you.
A boy who loved a girl so much that he waited for her for two years, and would continue to wait for her until the end of his life.
Yes anything that is aonung with air trader reader, Brat sully, any sully, any reader we want
Vigil
Summary: On the anniversary of the Mangkwan attacking your clan, you light lanterns away from the main village in the memory of your family
Warnings: mentions of death, grief
There is a telling darkness that is only stifled by the glow of lanterns that you begin lighting underneath the cover of mangrove trees. The lengths of the trail that you have wandered to have brought you here, to an opening in the density of the mangrove trees that act as your own private solitude.
Here you kneel against the ground and feel the penetrating chill off the air that blows in off the shoreline, capable of cutting through the well-woven travelling wrap that you have bundled around yourself. It still carries the scent of your oldest sister, although the scent is fading you still cling to the clothing. You carry it with you and you wear it as if it is a safety blanket while your hands are shaking.
While you are trembling and struggling to light the flame that will illuminate the lantern and allow it to float when you release it. Your hands feel numb but not from the cold; from the grief that still makes it hard to catch your breath. The feeling of loss is poignant, and the devastation your clan suffered still weighs heavy upon you even a year later.
It is as hard for you to believe that a year has passed, as it is to understand why you were so lucky to be spared. Why had the Mangkwan clan attacked on the departure trip that you had not been on, instead of one of the many other excursions. These questions lay heavily on your mind and they are another catalyst that has you stumbling to light your lantern.
You can feel the phantom sensation of something invisible squeezing your throat until you cannot physically breathe. The strain of your body to inhale is deenergizing, it sucks out whatever fight you have until you are ready to collapse. And with the struggle to breathe, comes the first sorrowed, painful cry.
A cry and shaking hands that are calmed when another's hand settles on yours. The scent of saltwater, sun and musk is begins to infiltrate your senses, and you know which Metkayina has joined you here. You do not need to turn your head, you do not need to speak his name or even take a glance at the Na'vi who has joined you here.
"Let me help you." He speaks with a voice that carries warmth and comfort, and you lean back on your haunches, every muscle in your body feels exhausted from the bare minimum. Your eyes feel unfocused and distant as you look ahead at the sea that continues it's ever flowing motions while you feel as if your world is coming to a stop.
"It hurts." Two words that are so simplistic yet carry a crushing burden that ferries in the immense heartbreak that threatens you. The tightening of your throat is only furthered by the burning of tears that will soon roll down your cheeks.
"I know." Beside you, Ao'nung is helping light the flames that will feed the lanterns, and they will soon be released in memory of the things you lost. The people who you will never again be able to see while you are still breathing; you will only ever see them in Eywa.
Your position shifts and you are no longer sitting on your haunches but you are sitting at the end of the trail. In the place where Ao'nung had come and carved out a place among the mangrove trees for you. Carefully cutting down the necessary trees to create this private place of mourning for you - the girl that he had spent years loving and waiting for.
"I ask myself why I was not there, why I could not have been there when the Mangkwan attacked my clan." You speak with a voice that shakes and trembles, wavers with the rising foreshadow of heavy tears that will run down your cheeks. "Why was I not taken with them?"
You turn your head ever so slightly to the right and see him, the boy that asked you to stay. The boy who had loved you for so long and had waited for you, was the same boy who created this place of mourning for you.
The Metkayina boy who had stayed up for steady portions of the night to watch you sleep sporadically, and if sleep did not find you then he would talk instead. He would lay your head on his lap as he brushed his fingers through your hair and allowed you to cry, or lay there in silence while you stared out at the opening of your shared marui.
Ao'nung was there for you then and he is here for you now. He does not have to ask; he knows you won't ask. Yet he helps anyway, he is here and he is helping you while your hands are incapable of igniting the flames because of the frigidness that makes your bones suffer as if they have been dipped in the ice waters of the far north.
"Ma syulang..." His voice is just as soft, just as tender as when he first arrived here to your private escape. You can see the look in his eyes, the emotional depth of empathy that clashes with the guilt that is blooming from the roots of relief.
Ao'nung leaves the lanterns alone for a moment and reaches for you; to touch your cheek and brush his thumb across your striped skin, wiping away a tear. "I would have lost you, ma muntxate. Your father made me promise that I would not let you go after them, after your sister and your sempul."
"I know." Another few tears roll down your cheeks and Ao'nung wipes them as well, he clears them off your skin and then he shifts his hands to cup your cheeks. He leans down just as he gently pulls you forward to rest his forehead against your own. Your eyes close but the tears do not stop flowing, not when Ao'nung begins to hum a song that you had not heard in far too long.
The words, the melody, they all belong to the lullaby your mother had sung to you when you were younger. The sound of it coming from Ao'nung's lips is a bittersweet marker of your life, knowing that you have your mate but you have lost your sisters and mother. And it hurts to know that you will be bringing a baby into your lives that will never know the love of your mother and sister's love. Your baby will have to rely on the stories that you will tell them while you are still not fully processed the grief.
"Let me carry some of the burden for you." Ao'nung ends the song with a statement, an offer, that does not require a statement in return.
He hands you one of the lanterns you have carried up here and he secures it in your hands, watching as you wrap your fingers around the bottom edge. When you are ready he brings a flame toward the wick and waits until the fire catches and as it does, his hands graze yours to help you hold the lantern steady.
He comforts you as you whisper a message to the lantern as if you are talking to your sisters, conveying everything you had wished you could tell them before they were taken from you. When you are done your message and ready to let the lantern go, Ao'nung helps with that as well. He helps you pull your hands off of the light that will be sent up to Eywa and then he helps you with another.
Over and over until your lanterns are gone; until you are alone with him. Once there is nothing left to light, Ao'nung steadies you in his lap as the exhaustion catches up to you, and you are naturally seeking for the grounding feeling of his arms tightening around you.
Beneath the glow of lanterns that are floating off against the background of brightly burning stars and bioluminescence, you are held by a Metkayina who wishes he could take your grief for you.
A boy who loved a girl so much that he waited for her for two years, and would continue to wait for her until the end of his life.
What update do you want next?
Come What May
Double Or Nothing
Game Of Survival
Keveâotsyip
Opalite
Something for us starving COD girlies?
Have a little something
Reminders Of Her
Summary: Ghost bears the marks of a great loveâhidden in the lines of ink
He is a soldier; a man who is used to death.
He is a man who has exceptional skills that come from a cold exterior that locked into place when he put on the mask. When he donned the reinforced vest, he became the man they called Ghost, the lieutenant who did his duty and followed the right kind of orders.
Beneath it all, was the real man. Under the patterned scarf he wore around his neck that hid the tattoos with deep sentimental meaning. There were the gloves that obscured his knuckles, and the ring that was engraved in his skin via the fine lines of a tattoo gunâimperfect but that was what he loved about it.
That tattoo was done by his wife, by the Mrs. Riley that stayed at home with the chubby cheeked little baby who drooled everywhere, because he was cutting teeth. The lines of the tattoo were shakily inked, couldâve been because youâd never done a tattoo before. Or it mightâve been because you were crying big tears, real emotional as you held the tattoo gun and tried it to hurt him.
Tried not to hurt Lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley, who had been shot more than most people get vaccines. He had felt the sting of the bullets that cut through flesh and leave gaping holes, bleeders that wonât stop until a piece of cloth is shoved in them.
But noâhis darling wife, softly curved with an ass that he desperately wanted to sink his teeth intoâwas worried about a tattoo.
His darling little wife who had spilled coffee on herself. Who apologized on their first real dinner date because she wanted a steak and not a salad and if Simon was going to be turned off by that than she was sorryâ
Damn those men who had gotten to you before him, who had you convinced that your body was deserved criticism.
He wore the marks of you in the lines of black ink, some coloured, that were symbols or initials of important events. Images that werenât at all revelling of who you were to anyone but him; to the soldiers he fought side by side with. There was an inexplicable need to keep you shielded from the life he had as a soldier.
But still he had a ring on his finger, tattooed to symbolize he was married but nothing more. No names, no dates, no locationsâjust a ring in ink.
Above his heart he had your sonâs birthdate right next to yours. It was some miracle that heâd been able to be there when your baby was born, little monster came out kicking and screaming and fighting. It made Simon proud to know that his boy had a strong set of lungs and a willingness to fight.
You were the very centre of their lives, Simonâs and his baby boyâs. You were the mama, the wife, the love of his life and the reason why his son smiled as brightly as he had. You were the heart of their lives, the very reason why Simon had tried to hard not to let the guns take him out while still being the guard between you and the chaos in the world.
It was you. It was your baby.
Reminders of her, inked onto his skin and hidden beneath tools used for war. Reminders of what was waiting for him and why he had to come home.
You and your baby; the promise of a happy ever after that he was looking forward to.
Hey!
You should definitely read MJ Marinoâs Mercy Ravens MC romance series. Itâs really really good I think you would like the series. When I reread this series it reminded me of how you characterize the 141.
If you donât mind reading e books, you should use ty website to (allegedly) pirate it : ebookhunter
I will have to add it to my list of things to write đ Iâm such a sucker for touch-her-and-die kind of vibes and Iâm sure Iâd die for this series
Part 2
Your feet moved along the densely packed path that led from the entrance to your familyâs kelku. You were incapable of slowing down even when passing elders of your village had scolded you for not watching where you were going.
You were a whizzing blur of braids that whipped behind you with every rushed jaunt you took, tail acting as a rudder that steered you around sharp corners. There was a sense of urgency that was only known to you, stemming from your desire to spend your day with the Sully family.
Which was opposed to sitting through one of your motherâs lessons on skinning, tanning and preparation of hides for usefulness in the clan.
What main pairing do you want for a Sarentu/TAP future project?
Teylan x Reader (sunshine/scary sunshine pairing)
Riânela x Reader (f/f pairing)
Soâlek x Reader x Tamtey (trio/grumpy x sunshine x bashful pairing)
Hello author! I don't really send asks, so forgive me if this turns out awkward, but it's been a few months since I came across your blog, and let me tell you: THANK YOU for your amazing work (and for feeding my delusionsâŚ)
I'm mostly a COD girlie, but your Avatar stories got me HOOKED, especially your latest one, "The Art Of Falling Behind", I just can't wait to read more of it! Will it be a slow burn? Do you plan for it to be a short fic or a longer one? either way I just know it will be as perfect as every one of your fics!
P.S: english is not my first language so bear with my weird way of writing please...
P.S 2.0: I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUUUUUUUUUCH
-đâ
âĽď¸ This means so much to me to hear, you have no idea. This is much needed this week, and I canât thank you enough for following me from my Call of Duty journey to my Avatar journey
It really means the world to me to have followers who joined for one fandom and stayed for another, that to me is amazing
Iâm terrible with words so this probably isnât coming across right but I really really want you to know how much I appreciate you âĽď¸
As for your question, The Art Of Falling Behind is going to be a slow burn/slow build and it will be a longer series â second (probably) to Keveâotsyip and my (future planned) Sarentu/TAP/breeding program series
And your way of writing is perfect, donât worry about it. English is my first language and I still have problems with it đ
Again thank you so so so so so much!
For Game Of Survival â would you prefer having a scene(s)/chapter where it shows how Aoânung/Neteyam infected with the chemical or a scene(s)/chapter where reader is tasked with heading to Awaâatlu to help Norm and Aoânung/Neteyam are already infected?
youâre not considering leaving tumblr are you? That would be so sad!
I wouldnât leave tumblr, at least not permanently
If I needed a mental health break because I was getting too caught up in my head about notes/comments/reblogs, I would take a break but I wouldnât actually leave tumblr
If anything I would just focus on what I have on AO3 and take a step back from my page here
I find it interesting that you have more notes/interactios with you call of duty stuff than your avatar stuff
Yeah itâs like I canât really break into the Avatar fandom as well as I could with COD or marvel, but it only seems that way on tumblr. All of my Avatar WIPâs always do better on AO3, same with my COD stuff
It could be for a lot of reasons, might be because Tumblr scammed me with a mature label or maybe because I donât really write smut and smut is hella popular with both COD & Avatar. Or my work could just not be as well received/well liked as other authors đ¤ˇââď¸
AO3 has less interactive possibilities than Tumblr yet I get more notes/kudos/comments there