Chapter Text
A little touch. They barely had the slightest contact and revolved around each other. Sometimes it was enough just to see each other and they unintentionally walked to find each other, whether they were sitting together or apart, their skins touched. Their fingers linked and their hearts beat in the same rhythm. A hug, bumping foreheads, massages, combing hair, hands holding each other, a little brush of fingers as they ate together. That's what they were: a simple touch.
Perhaps it was because Lo'ak lacked feeling such warm affection without ulterior motives, or that Tsireya felt so alive next to him, so full of emotions, that their touch changed meaning. What started as an affection between two inexperienced young people evolved. They could tell how the other person felt just by touching their hands, Lo'ak could tell how she felt by her stiff skin or the slightest change in her smile, even by the strength in which she gripped his hand, and to Tsireya it was so easy to see (it's always easy for her to see him), Lo'ak had a strong heart but he wore it exposed. She could notice the little things, things that others ignored, the intensity of his gaze when she entered where he was (an intensity that made her whole body vibrate and her legs tremble), she noticed how his fingers twitched under the pressure of certain situations, or the way he sat when he felt uncomfortable, or the way he bit his cheek when he felt insecure and small or was unable to express himself. She -and everyone- could see his emotions on his face, see his heart open to the air...
And anyone could easily bury their fingers into his chest and hurt him. Like his parents and their disapproving looks with their silences that didn't protect him, or his sisters with her defensive tongue and the innocence of hurting without wanting to. They could point their fingers and stick them in until they hurt him badly, over and over again, until they made Lo'ak bleed. And it was as if the drops of Lo'ak's blood were invisible to everyone but her.
And she did everything she could with her caresses to cover the space in his chest, so it wouldn't be so easy to bury their fingers. But when she felt that he had made progress, preventing a finger from entering, someone would bury their hand with full force, and blood flowed. She wanted to be able to fuse her skin against his to cover his bleeding heart and never leave his side.
She wanted to protect him from everything that was wrong, from everything the demons from the sky had brought. (But… how could she protect him from the feeling of warm blood on his hands to keep him from burying his fingers into his chest? When she herself couldn't protect her from the feeling of cold stiff legs under her hands, wishing she hadn't been left alone looking after someone who was no longer there.)
So the more she touched and hugged and caressed and nurtured him, the more they tried to make him bleed. She wanted to scream at them to stop, she wanted to scream that he was their son and their brother, that he was just a boy like her. That they were just boys. Too young to carry the weight of his expectations.
The weight of the deceased, the weight of being a warrior, the weight of being the only son of Toruk Makto. And nothing was enough for them, there was no good that deserved a compliment without a follow-up remark ("Well done, Lo'ak, but you should have been quicker, smarter, more patient, less impulsive... You should have been better." They said, and their words translated to he should be more like Neteyam.. She didn't want Neteyam, she wanted Lo'ak, she wanted him to be himself with his strong heart and fiery energy, with his impulsiveness and stubbornness). And Tsireya realized that she couldn’t fill or replace that space, she couldn’t give Lo'ak what he needed, she didn’t have the power to give him the much desired approval. But she tried, she tells him how proud she was of him, how far he has come, he was the brother of a Tulkun, a Metkayina by blood and flesh. And he was so strong and kind, and his hands were so gentle to push her away when he was upset so as not to hurt her, or that while they walk and there was something that could hit her, he would put his hand or body so that it wouldn't hit her, and he always served her food first or waited for her to take the first bite before he did if they had to share, and he looked at her like she was the only person in his world.
She wanted him to see himself through her eyes. She wished he could see how wonderful he was.
But he couldn't, so the blood ran.
And now she was scared, she watched the blood flowing from his chest, his poor heart wouldn't stop bleeding, and she didn't know what to do. She couldn't make his parents see, she couldn't do anything because her caresses no longer had any effect, she couldn't stop the bleeding. And she didn't know who to ask for help, because those who should care, those who could stop the bleeding, were blind to his pain.
She cries for him without saying it, and her family surrounds her wanting to make her pain go away. But how could she explain to her parents that the pain she feels is not hers but someone else's, how could she explain to them the relationship between Lo'ak and his family without betraying him and herself for wanting to keep his heart only for her, how could she simply ask for help if the one who needs it, doesn't want it. So she cries, as hard as her body allows her to, as hard as her family was able to comfort her. (Aonung confesses to her in whispers that he understands her, about wanting to help someone and not being able to save them no matter how much he wants to, about feeling guilty for not doing anything, for not being there. Tsireya can't help but think of that night where Neteyam... her brother crying as he hugged her while they watched him join Eywa).
And in the dark of night, among her family, she wonders if Lo'ak is feeling that warmth that she feels, that warmth that only family can provide, that warmth that she can provide if he were here, if he were her family, if he were hers.
She wanted him so badly to be hers.
…
Tsireya can see how his heart continues to bleed despite the time, sometimes more, sometimes less, but it doesn't stop. It bleeds less when he is near her family, her parents with their soft words and their hands on his shoulder in pride, her siblings with their games pulling each other's tails and hitting his forehead. And with her he bleeds even less but he doesn't stop bleeding, in a desperate attempt she tries to kiss him to soothe his pain, he doesn't push her away but diverts her lips to his cheek. She kisses him all over his face wishing to close his exposed heart, he doesn’t return the gesture and if her heart hurts -just a little- she ignores it. Though it’s impossible for her not to wonder if she is for him, the way she wishes he was for her.
And the blood flows, even when he becomes a man and the people see him. Even now his family can see him better. Even when there is a celebration, and he must choose someone, a woman, and that woman may not be her, who is not able to stop the bleeding in his chest. The night falls and the lights dance to the rhythm of their people, and Lo'ak takes her hand so that she is his first dance, she smiles brightly at him, hoping he understands her gesture, asking if she is the one for him, as he is for her. Lo'ak shakes his head smiling, his braids sway - braids that were made and decorated by her - and the music ends, but Lo'ak does not take her away from the people to mate her, instead he dances with other women. And the uncertainty she feels is so big that it threatens to consume her as she is only able to watch as they approach him and speak to him, touch his chest, and it seems he is no longer bleeding at the touch of one: Leti'ya. She is tall, pretty, her hair shines and her smile is so beautiful that she feels small next to her, and Lo'ak does not bleed... he no longer bleeds.
She is not for him.
The truth hits her, she never was and never will be the one to stop the bleeding in his heart. Her own heart started bleeding and no one could stop it, she ran away from there, away from Lo'ak and his no longer bleeding heart.
...
The bleeding in her chest feels bitter, and she tries to be happy, to stop her bleeding because she is happy that Lo'ak stops bleeding, after so long, of course he deserves to stop bleeding and she feels selfish for wanting her to be the reason. She wipes her tears in frustration, and obviously, as is natural, he would notice her absence and come looking for her, because he sees her even though he hasn't said so and now she knows why, she is not for him. And she wonders if her caresses and kisses were half remedies waiting for someone who is not her.
She feels his warmth next to her, as natural as the sand under her feet and the waves crashing against each other, and wonders how many times they have sat next to each other that she can easily melt into his skin without problem, shoulders touching. Usually she is the one who seeks him out in the face of some mistreatment from his family, and now it was the other way around.
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. There is nothing to say, she thinks. She is unable to look at him, even when he touches her face gently, she doesn't want to see his chest that no longer bleeds. His long fingers, an extra one, detach from her face and return to her with an extra weight. A necklace, and she still refuses to see him, but Lo'ak is insistent, takes her face and makes her see, eyes so yellow they glow even in the dark, a gaze so intense it makes her body tremble, even though they are no longer fourteen. And he kisses her hands -she doesn't move her eyes from his face-, he places them on his chest, a heart that no longer bleeds, her tears stop as she feels his heartbeat. And she looks at the necklace made of red stones, carefully carved, red stones were the hardest to find and carve.
Lo'ak smiles at her and touches her face again.
"Oel ngati kameie."
Her bleeding heart stops. But she hasn't stopped his bleeding.
"I saw you with Leti'ya... She is a fine woman."
"Tsireya. I don't want Leti'ya."
"But your heart..."
He pressed her hands against his heart.
"This is yours, to break or to protect, to cherish or to play with, to love or to despise. It will always be yours because there is no person who can enter here if it’s not you, and as long as you are by my side, there is no pain that can tear you from my chest and soul. And no one can replace you, not Leti'ya or any of those other girls." He licks his lips, she follows the movement unintentionally, and he holds her tighter, almost aching, almost burning. "I have loved you all my life, Tsireya, even before I met you, my heart has always been yours and always will be. Is yours mine?"
She looks at him in surprise, her legs trembling before his gaze - before his so exposed heart - it’s too much to digest that she is unable to answer. And she wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of his question, of course it's his, always has been, and she wonders how long they've both thought their hearts are not each other's. She looks at his chest, hard, strong and exposed to everyone, no, exposed to her, only her. She can reach out her fingers and squeeze his heart if she wanted to, she could do so much damage with just one finger, but she can't, won't, and never will. There she realizes the truth that she was so blind to, no one can make Lo'ak's heart stop bleeding, not his family, not her and certainly not Neteyam, only himself, and maybe it will never bleed again or maybe it will never stop bleeding, but he is giving her his bruised heart just for her, his bleeding heart is hers and no one else's. And she has never seen a more beautiful heart than his.
She lets out a sob, and smiles nodding. She opens her chest to him, her heart exposed just for him, and he buries his hands into it and it hurts, it hurts so much that she feels like she's going to explode from the emotion, because there is no other place but in her heart where he can sink, where he can belong, where he can be safer.
And his hands scorch, burn, as he places the necklace, and his lips press against her neck holding a sigh, and she is not the only one trembling. His breath caresses her and Lo'ak makes her feel like she is floating or swimming, as if she is underwater too long and her breathing becomes unsteady as does her mind, a sensation she cannot forget or explain, and from his lips come the words she needs most, they embrace her, envelop her and burn her, and she wonders why they have lived apart for so long. They need each other like who needs to breathe.
And their lips join -finally- as do their minds, an eternal connection. Hands running over each other, hands on legs opening them, hands on hips bringing them closer, and lips on everywhere, leaving traces of their love and bringing sighs and moans that echo with the soft movement of the waves. And what they so desired happens, Tsireya buries into him. And Lo'ak buries into her.
If someone could see them, they wouldn't know where one begins and the other ends.
Notes:
Man, I unintentionally put a hole in Lo'ak's chest just like Neteyam. One is dead and no longer bleeding, and the other is alive but still bleeding. I really like Jake and Neytiri but I don't think they were really good parents, not with the kids, even though Neytiri tried to tell Jake of how hard he's being on them, we never see her comforting her kids or saying enough is enough. Yes, they love them and all but the people who love you, are the ones who can hurt you the most, even if they don't mean to. I apologize for the mistakes I made, THE SHAME I FEEL.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Lo'ak está sangrando. No de la manera en que piensas. O Tsireya y Lo'ak exploran el cuerpo del otro, en más de un sentido.
Chapter Text
Un pequeño toque. Apenas tenían el más mínimo contacto y giraban el uno alrededor del otro. A veces solo bastaba con verse y sin querer caminaban para encontrarse, ya sea que esten sentados juntos o separados, sus pieles chocaban. Sus dedos se unían y sus corazones latian a un mismo ritmo. Un abrazo, frentes chocando, masajes, peinarse, manos sosteniéndose la una a la otra, un pequeño roce de dedos mientras comían juntos. Eso es lo que eran: un simple toque.
Tal vez era porque a Lo'ak le faltaba sentir ese afecto tan cálido sin segundas intenciones, o que Tsireya se sentía tan viva al lado de él, tan llena de emociones, que sus toques fueron cambiando de significado. Lo que comenzó como un afecto entre dos chicos inexpertos evolucionó. Podían saber cómo la otra persona se sentía con solo tocar su manos, Lo'ak podía saber cómo ella sentía por su piel rígida o el más mínimo cambio en su sonrisa, incluso por la fuerza en la que agarraba su mano, y para Tsireya era mucho fácil verlo (para ella siempre es fácil verlo), Lo'ak tenía un corazón fuerte pero lo llevaba expuesto. Ella podía notar las pequeñas cosas, cosas que los demás ignoraban, la intensidad de su mirada cuando ella ingresaba a donde estaba (una intensidad que hacía que todo su cuerpo vibrara y sus piernas temblaran), notaba como sus dedos temblaban ante la presión de ciertas situaciones, o como se sentaba cuando se sentía incómodo, o la manera en mordía su mejilla cuando se sentía inseguro y pequeño o era incapaz de expresarse. Ella -y todos- podían ver sus emociones en la cara, ver su corazón abierto al aire...
Y cualquiera podía fácilmente hundir sus dedos en su pecho y hacerle daño. Como sus padres y sus miradas desaprobatorias con sus silencios que no lo protegían, o sus hermanas con su lengua a la defensiva y la inocencia de hacer daño sin querer hacerlo. Podían señalar con el dedo y hundirlo hasta hacerle mucho daño, una y otra vez, hasta hacer a Lo'ak sangrar. Y era como si las gotas de sangre de Lo'ak fueran invisibles para todos, menos para ella.
Y ella hacía todo lo que podía con sus caricias para cubrir el espacio en su pecho, para que no sea tan fácil hundir sus dedos. Pero cuando sentía que había progresado, evitando que ingrese un dedo, alguien enterraba su mano con toda fuerza, y la sangre corría. Quería ser capaz de fusionar su piel contra la de él para cubrir su corazón sangriento y nunca despegarse de su lado.
Quería protegerlo de todo lo que estaba mal, de todo lo que habían traído los demonios del cielo. (Pero… ¿Cómo podía protegerlo de la sensación de sangre cálida sobre sus manos para evitar que él entierre sus dedos en su pecho? Cuando ella misma no podía protegerse de la sensación de piernas frías y rígidas bajo sus manos deseando no haberse quedado sola cuidando a alguien que ya no estaba ahí.)
Así que mientras más lo tocaba, abrazaba, acariciaba y cuidaba, más intentaban hacerlo sangrar. Ella quería gritar que pararán, quería gritar que era su hijo y su hermano, que era solo un chico como ella. Que ellos eran solo chicos. Demasiado jóvenes para cargar con el peso de sus expectativas.
El peso de los fallecidos, el peso de ser un guerrero, el peso de ser el único hijo de Toruk Makto. Y nada era suficiente para ellos, no había un bien que merezca un cumplido sin una observación seguida después ("Bien hecho, Lo'ak, pero debiste ser más rápido, más listo, más paciente, menos impulsivo... Debiste ser mejor" Ellos decían, y sus palabras se traducían a que debía ser más como Neteyam. Ella no quería a Neteyam, quería a Lo'ak, quería que sea él mismo con su corazón fuerte y energía abrasadora, con su impulsividad y terquedad). Y Tsireya se dio cuenta que no podía cubrir o reemplazar ese espacio, ella no podía darle a Lo'ak lo que necesita, no tenía el poder de darle la tan deseada aprobación. Pero lo intenta, le dice lo orgullosa que estaba de él, de lo lejos que ha llegado, era hermano de un Tulkun, un Metkayina de sangre y carne. Y él era tan fuerte y amable, y sus manos son tan gentiles para apartarla cuando estaba molesto para no hacerle daño, o que mientras caminan y había algo que la pueda golpear, ponía su mano o cuerpo para que no le choque, y siempre le servía la comida primero a ella o él esperaba que ella dé el primer bocado antes que él sí tenían que compartir, y la miraba como si fuera la única persona en su mundo.
Deseaba que él se viera a través de sus ojos. Deseaba que él pudiera ver lo maravilloso que era.
Pero no podía, entonces la sangre corría.
Y ahora estaba asustada, observaba la sangre fluir de su pecho, no paraba de sangrar su pobre corazón, y no sabía qué hacer. Ella no podía hacer a sus padres ver, ella no podía hacer nada porque sus caricias ya no tenían efecto, no podía detener el sangrado. Y no sabía a quién pedir ayuda, porque a quienes debía preocuparle, quienes podían detener el sangrado, eran ciegos ante su dolor.
Llora por él sin decirlo, y su familia la rodea queriendo hacer que su dolor se vaya. Pero cómo podía explicar a sus padres que el dolor que siente no es suyo sino de alguien más, cómo podría explicarles la relación entre Lo’ak y su familia sin traicionarlo y a ella misma por querer mantener su corazón solo para ella, cómo podía simplemente pedir ayuda sí quien la necesita, no la quiere. Así que llora, tan fuerte como su cuerpo se lo permite, tan fuerte como su familia era capaz de consolarla. (Aonung le confiesa en susurros que la entiende, sobre querer ayudar a alguien y no ser capaz de salvarlo por mucho que quiera, de sentirse culpable por no hacer nada, por no estar ahí. Tsireya no puede evitar pensar en esa noche donde Neteyam... su hermano llorando mientras la abrazaba mientras ellos veían que él se unía a Eywa.)
Y en la oscuridad de la noche, entre su familia, se pregunta si Lo’ak está sintiendo ese calor que ella siente, ese calor que solo la familia puede proveer, ese calor que ella puede proveer si estuviera aquí, si fuera su familia, si él fuera suyo.
Deseaba tanto que fuera suyo.
…
Tsireya puede ver cómo su corazón sigue sangrando a pesar del tiempo, a veces más, a veces menos, pero no se detiene. Sangra menos cuando está cerca de su familia, de sus padres con sus palabras suaves y sus manos sobre el hombro en orgullo, de sus hermanos con sus juegos jalándose las colas y golpeando su frente. Y con ella sangra todavía menos pero no deja de sangrar, en un intento desesperado intenta besarlo para calmar su dolor, él no la aparta pero desvía sus labios hacia su mejilla. Lo besa por todo el rostro deseando cerrar su corazón expuesto, él no devuelve el gesto y sí su corazón duele -solo un poco- no le hace caso. Aunque le es imposible no preguntarse si ella es para él, de la forma en la que ella desea que él sea para ella.
Y la sangre fluye, incluso cuando él se vuelve un hombre y la gente lo ve. Incluso si ahora su familia lo puede ver mejor. Incluso cuando hay una celebración, y debe elegir a alguien, a una mujer, y esa mujer puede no ser ella, quién no es capaz de detener el sangrado en su pecho. La noche cae y las luces bailan al ritmo de su gente, y Lo'ak la toma de la mano para que sea su primer baile, le sonríe con fuerza, esperando que entienda su gesto, preguntando si es ella para él, como él es para ella. Lo'ak agita la cabeza sonriendo, sus trenzas se balancean -trenzas que fueron hechas y decoradas por ella-, y la música finaliza, pero Lo'ak no la lleva lejos de la gente para unirse a ella, en cambio baila con otras mujeres. Y la incertidumbre que siente es tan grande que amenaza con consumirla mientras solo es capaz de ver como se le acercan y le hablan, le tocan su pecho, y parece que él ya no está sangrando ante el toque de una: Leti'ya. Ella es alta, bella, su cabello brilla y su sonrisa es tan hermosa que se siente pequeña a su lado, y Lo'ak no sangra... él ya no sangra.
Ella no es para él.
La verdad la golpea, ella nunca fue ni será quien detenga el sangrado en su corazón. Su propio corazón comenzó a sangrar y nadie podía detenerlo, sale huyendo de ahí, lejos de Lo'ak y su ya no sangriento corazón.
...
El sangrado en su pecho se siente amargo, y trata de ser feliz, de detener su sangrado porque ella si está feliz qué Lo'ak deje de sangrar, después de tanto tiempo, por supuesto que merece dejar de sangrar y se siente egoísta por querer que sea ella la razón. Seca sus lágrimas con frustración, y obviamente, como es natural, él notaría su ausencia y vendría a buscarla, porque la ve aunque no lo haya dicho y ahora sabe el porqué, ella no es para él. Y se pregunta si sus caricias y besos fueron medios remedios en espera de alguien que no es ella.
Siente su calor a su lado, tan natural como la arena bajo sus pies y las olas chocando unas contra otras, se pregunta cuántas veces se han sentado el uno junto al otro que ella con facilidad puede derretirse en su piel sin problema, hombros chocando. Usualmente ella es quien lo busca ante algún maltrato de su familia, y ahora era al revés.
Él no dice nada por un largo momento. No hay nada que decir, ella piensa. No es capaz de mirarlo, aún cuando él toca su rostro con suavidad, no quiere ver su pecho que ya no sangra. Sus largos dedos, uno extra, se despegan de su rostro y vuelven hacia ella con un peso extra. Un collar, y se rehúsa a verlo, pero Lo'ak es insistente, toma su rostro y hace que lo vea, ojos tan amarillos que brillan aún en la oscuridad, una mirada tan intensa que hace que su cuerpo tiemble, aún cuando ya no tienen catorce. Y él besa sus manos -ella no mueve los ojos de su cara-, las coloca sobre su pecho, un corazón que ya no sangra, sus lágrimas paran al sentir su palpitar. Y mira al collar hecho de piedras rojas, cuidadosamente talladas, las piedras rojas eran las más difíciles de encontrar y tallar.
Lo'ak le sonríe y toca de nuevo su rostro.
"Oel ngati kameie."
Su corazón sangrante se detiene. Pero ella no ha detenido su sangrado.
"Te vi con Leti'ya… Ella es una buena mujer."
"Tsireya. No quiero a Leti'ya."
"Pero tu corazón..."
Él presionó sus manos contra su corazón.
"Esto es tuyo, para romper o proteger, para cuidar o jugar, para amar o despreciar. Siempre será tuyo porque no existe persona alguna que pueda ingresar aquí si no eres tú, y mientras estés a mi lado, no existe dolor alguno que pueda arrancarte de mi pecho y alma. Y nadie puede reemplazarte, ni Leti'ya ni ninguna de esas otras chicas." Él lame sus labios, sigue el movimiento sin querer, y él la sostiene más fuerte casi doliendo, casi ardiendo. "Te he querido toda mi vida, Tsireya, incluso antes de conocerte, mi corazón siempre ha sido tuyo y lo será. ¿El tuyo es mío?"
Lo mira sorprendida, sus piernas temblando ante su mirada -ante su tan expuesto corazón-, es demasiado para digerir que es incapaz de responder. Y quiere reír ante lo ridículo de su pregunta, por supuesto que es suyo, siempre lo ha sido, y se pregunta por cuánto tiempo ambos han pensado que sus corazones no son del otro. Mira su pecho, duro, fuerte y expuesto a todos, no, expuesto a ella, solo a ella. Ella puede extender sus dedos y apretar su corazón si es que ella quisiera, podría hacer tanto daño con tan solo un dedo, pero no puede, no quiere, y nunca querrá. Ahí se da cuenta de la verdad a la que ella era tan ciega, nadie puede hacer que el corazón de Lo'ak deje de sangrar, ni su familia, ni ella y mucho menos Neteyam, solo él mismo, y tal vez no vuelva a sangrar o tal vez nunca deje de sangrar, pero él le está dando su corazón maltrecho solo para ella, su corazón sangrante es suyo y de nadie más. Y jamás ha visto un corazón más hermoso que el de él.
Suelta un sollozo, y sonríe asintiendo. Abre su pecho ante él, su corazón expuesto sólo para él, y él hunde sus manos en el y duele, duele tanto que siente que va a explotar de la emoción, porque no hay otro lugar más que en su corazón donde pueda hundirse, donde pueda pertenecer, donde pueda estar más seguro.
Y sus manos queman, arden, mientras coloca el collar, y sus labios chocan contra su cuello aguantando un suspiro, y ella no es la única temblando. Su respiración la acaricia y Lo'ak la hace sentir que está flotando o nadando, como si estuviera demasiado tiempo bajo el agua y su respiración se vuelve inestable al igual que su mente, una sensación que no puede olvidar ni explicar, y de sus labios salen las palabras que más necesita ella, la abrazan, la envuelven y la queman, y se pregunta porque han vivido separados tanto tiempo. Se necesitan como quien necesita respirar.
Y sus labios se unen, por fin, al igual que sus mentes, una conexión eterna. Manos recorriendo el uno al otro, manos sobre piernas abriendolas, manos sobre caderas acercandolas, y labios sobre todos lados, dejando caminos de huellas de su amor y atrayendo suspiros y gemidos que resuenan con el suave movimiento de las olas. Y ocurre lo que tanto deseaban, Tsireya se hunde en él. Y Lo'ak se hunde en ella.
Si alguien los pudiera ver, no sabría dónde empieza uno y termina el otro
Notes:
Y si tiene alguna idea para escribir, solo comenten.
And if you have any ideas for me to write, just comment.
Yrmomo on Chapter 1 Wed 15 Mar 2023 10:50PM UTC
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Lilsourwolf7813 on Chapter 1 Thu 16 Mar 2023 01:04AM UTC
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gwirlzwfun on Chapter 1 Sat 18 Mar 2023 07:31PM UTC
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Lilsourwolf7813 on Chapter 1 Sat 18 Mar 2023 10:18PM UTC
Last Edited Sat 18 Mar 2023 10:22PM UTC
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gwirlzwfun on Chapter 1 Sun 19 Mar 2023 11:00PM UTC
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Ycat137 on Chapter 1 Thu 12 Sep 2024 10:41AM UTC
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Lion10 on Chapter 2 Mon 08 May 2023 11:42PM UTC
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