#(It's part of the reason why I've been so frustrated lately people will just completely ignore my rules or disrespect me)

[vivid-ink]

"Show Me & Teach Me"

Neteyam Sully / female Omatikaya reader

Summary: You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training? What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…

Content: Angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: This is my first ever Tumblr fic post! I've posted previously on AO3, Wattpad and FF.net, but I discovered this wonderful fandom on Tumblr recently and you've inspired me! Shout out to these bloggers whose work and writing I've been avidly browsing recently - @cinetrix, @andraga12, @pandoraslxna, @lanasblood and @draiochtwrites Special thanks to @cinetrix for her fabulous Neteyam renders. SO. BLOODY. GORGEOUS. This is also my first attempt at a Neteyam/Reader style of writing, so I hope I've done it justice. I personally don't like the usage of 'Y/N', so the reader's name in this is Seyla. The name is not used often, but there are a few points where it has been used for stylistic/emotional effect in the dialogue. Cross-posted also on AO3 - Show Me & Teach Me Other works available - VividInk AO3

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The dichotomy of emotion that swirled in your chest was a frustrating ache; a blight against the happiness of the occasion. Today was a happy day, and yet the unwelcome despondency you felt stubbornly insisted on battling with your elation at having finally completed your rites of passage. You had completed Iknimaya to tame your own ikran last week, and yesterday you had completed your uniltaron (dream hunt).

You were officially a woman now, born again as one of the Omatikaya, and tonight the entire clan was celebrating you and your other successful peers. Your peers who are all a few years younger than you are… The pessimistic part of your brain unhelpfully supplied.

The swallow of saliva down your throat was tight at the thought and you mentally attempted to bat away the negativity. So what if you were a late bloomer? What mattered was that you had succeeded now, and you had one person in particular to thank for that.

Neteyam…

His name breathed like a soothing balm over your fraught mind, but before your thoughts could carry you further away from the jovial festivity that surrounded you, the call of your name jolted you from your contemplation.

“Seyla! Come and join us! Tonight isn’t for sitting, it’s for dancing!”

Twisting your torso where you were seated to meet the mirthful eyes of another girl across the bonfire, you gave her a small grin in response and shook your head. Nope, you were not much of a dancer. You were skilled with your hands; at weaving; at beading, and at healing – especially healing -, but the rest of you was as uncoordinated as they came. This was one of the reasons it had taken you longer than most to achieve your rites.

You raised your voice to ensure it would carry over the percussion drumbeats of the music and the crackle and spit of the fire, “No thanks! You go on, Pania! I can’t dance, and I’m happy being merry over here with my drink!” The vessel of bittersweet alcohol in your hand was brought to your lips once more to prove your point and though Pania pouted, she acquiesced and returned to her frolicking.

Shyness had been your constant companion your entire life. You had never liked being the centre of attention, had always been content to just blend into the background where it was safe and constant. Happy though you were tonight at your success, no amount of cajoling would to persuade you to join the mosh pit of revelry around the bonfire. You preferred your quiet contemplation, observing and finding joy in others’ bliss while they enjoyed the celebration around you.

With another sip of your drink, you sighed to yourself as the liquid burned a path down your throat.

As always, your gaze wandered through the sea of swaying and jaunting bodies, seeking out the strapping frame of the man you had become familiar with recently. You had grown fond of him over the many moons you had spent under his tutelage, far too fond, you realised. It was not long before you found him, mingling amongst a group of the other mentors.

Neteyam was laughing heartily among them, nursing his own vessel of alcohol. His smile was dashing, and his laughter was like music to your ears, warming the cockles of your heart and setting it aflame. You felt your own lips pull into a diffident smile of your own at the sight of him. He was so beautiful; both inside as well as out.

You remembered being mortified at first when he had been assigned as your replacement mentor. It had happened not long after his family had returned to the clan following the Long War.

The return of Toruk Makto and his family had been greatly celebrated; the return of their beloved olo’eyktan and the return of Neteyam as his successor. Neteyam had always been handsome, even in his youth. You recalled the silly girlhood crush you had harboured for him, a boy several years older than yourself who took not much notice of you, although he had always been kind in the few interactions you had shared.

Neteyam had returned to the clan even more striking now that he had grown into a man, with the toned musculature of a warriors’ body that made even the most reserved of women think unchaste things. You were guilty of this too.

So, imagine your horror when tsahìk Mo’at had pronounced that Neteyam would take over training you for your second attempt at your rites. Great. Just what you needed; more self-conscious pressure…

You had not done well under Rini’s instruction. Rini was one of the best young warriors in the clan, but she had found your lack of confidence frustrating and your timid nature more annoying than endearing. She had been impatient and exasperated as a result, the entire ordeal culminating in the shame of your first unsuccessful attempt at Iknimaya. You had not been injured, but you had failed because none of the ikran had challenged you and you had made no further attempt to tame one.

The decision for Neteyam to replace Rini had shocked you and it had made no sense. Even thinking back now, it still made no sense. Great Mother, why would anyone devote the time of the future olo’eyktan to the training of an inconsequential young woman?

Nevertheless, Mo’at’s decision had proven to be beneficial to your learning. You put it down to Neteyam more so than yourself. You were still the same old you; bashful, uncertain and reluctant to cause things harm, even if it was hunting wild game for the clan’s sustenance. Neteyam just had a way about him; he was unassuming and patient, and he had made you feel at ease with him.

The lively swell of the music around you faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you once more. The memory of your first meeting with Neteyam floated into the forefront of your mind…

*** FLASHBACK ***

“Tsahìk, I think the yalnabark tincture is done brewing. I’ve taken it off the fire for now or the mixture might scorch at the bottom.” You called out assuredly. If there was one thing in life you knew you were good at, it was the art of healing.

Mo’at reappeared from around the partition in the healers’ hut, crouching down to test the consistency of the tincture in the pot by stirring it gently with a wooden ladle. The viscous fluid bubbled gently and you knew it would cool eventually to form the thick salve you were used to slathering on cuts and wounds.

The tsahìk sniffed the wafting fumes before settling appraising gold eyes on you. She smiled and the expression made the corners of her eyes and mouth crinkle with warmth, “Well done, child. It’s the perfect consistency.”

Beaming at the praise you received, you settled the pot to the side to cool and began gathering your things to clean up for the day. Eclipse was fast approaching and the light of day was fading fast. Quietly, you wondered to yourself why you could not just carry on as you were, learning from Mo’at and assisting her with the sick and injured from day to day.

You were born to help people; to heal them and give them comfort in difficult times. Hunting and learning to spar with knives and spears were the farthest things away from your proficiencies.

“You are thinking so loudly I can hear your thoughts.” Mo’at hummed, her lips forming a wry grin.

“I just don’t understand why I have to train and pass Iknimaya. I’ll never be a hunter or a warrior. Can’t I just learn from you and be a healer for the rest of my life?”

Mo’at fixed you with an astute gaze and she narrowed her eyes at you, “You can and will be a great healer, Seyla. But Iknimaya is a rite of passage that all Omatikaya individuals must pass. You need to tame an ikran or how will you travel? You’ll never fly otherwise and you are too grown now to be a pillion passenger on another’s ikran.”

With a resigned huff, you slung your pouch across your torso, preparing to depart for the evening when Mo’at called out to you again.

“Just stay back for a while today. I told Neteyam to meet you here at eclipse. I figured it would be good for the two of you to reacquaint yourselves with each other a bit before you he starts your training tomorrow.”

Self-conscious flutters erupted in your belly.

Of course, you knew you would be spending a lot of time with Neteyam in the coming while since he would be mentoring you, but the timid part of you had thought you would not need to deal with your nerves around this until tomorrow. You did what was requested of you nonetheless.

Neteyam was prompt, stepping into the healers’ hut within moments of eclipse’s onset. Your heart had been racing steadily behind your sternum in anxious anticipation, but the sight of him made it skip a few beats. Eywa help you, he was so attractive… How were you ever going to be able to concentrate on your learnings being mentored by him?

You immediately rose to your feet from where you were knelt out of respect at his arrival. Dipping your knees slightly and with a bow of your head, you greeted him, “Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam. My name is-”

Neteyam interrupted you before you could finish, “Seyla. Yes, I know. I remember you.”

Your head snapped up in surprise at his words. His smile was kind and his eyes gentle as he regarded you and you blinked, lost for words, for several moments before you found them again, “Oh, you do? We never really spoke much.”

You were six years his junior. Too young to have been in any of the social circles Neteyam had made his way around in. Any interactions you had shared were fleeting and often just greetings in passing. He was as good as the crown prince of the clan, so naturally you had known who he was. It would not have been unfair though to assume, especially with your quiet nature, that he did not notice you.

A jovial grin danced across Neteyam’s lips, the tips of his canines peaking charmingly out from his behind his upper lip, “The girl with the pretty braids. Though I see you don’t wear them as long anymore.”

The peal of laughter that bubbled up from within you was involuntary, sparked by pure delight at the realisation that he did indeed remember you. You had worn your hair much longer as a girl, your tresses trailing in luscious locks down to your hips. Your hair had been one of the beautiful things about you, and you and your mother had spent countless hours crafting new beads and braiding them into your hair in intricate styles. The length had unfortunately become inconvenient as you grew older, so the ends of your braids were now lopped shorter to brush the small of your back.

A flush heated your cheeks under his scrutiny and your laughter died down. Clearing your throat clumsily, you nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.”

A hoarse chortle emanated from behind you and you remembered Mo’at was still present. Her husky voice piped up, her eyes twinkling with some enigmatic reason in their depths, “You need to look after this one, Neteyam. Her hands work miracles with the ill and injured. She is gifted with healing, both physical and spiritual. And you of all people should understand how exceptional that is.”

The tsahìk’s words were high praise and you felt the flush on your face intensify. Her words reminded you suddenly of the reason for your meeting with Neteyam in the first place though, and you quickly added, “I will work hard as your trainee. I’m not particularly athletic or strong, but I’ll always try my best. I don’t wait to fail again and I don’t want to bring you shame as my mentor, so I’ll pass my rites or die trying.”

Neteyam appeared taken aback by the candour with which you spoke and the severity of your tone. He gave a slow cock of his head to the side, his eyes calculating while you fought hard not to squirm at his silent assessment.

His assessing gaze only lasted several moments before the comfortable warmth of his usual expression returned. His voice was benevolent when he spoke, “No one is going to die trying anything. We will go at your pace. I may push you at times, but if it gets too much, you are at every right to voice this to me.”

Neteyam’s words were a reassurance and the thundering of your heart began to subside. Mustering up what little dregs of courage you possessed from within yourself, you lifted your head to peer into his eyes and found them void of any judgement. Their green-gold depths were open and sincere, and you perceived also a silent promise of security in them.

The lump forming in your throat hindered you from finding your word, however, and your response to Neteyam was a mute nod.

He spoke again then, the baritone of his voice rumbling delightfully through you, “I swear to you as your mentor that I will keep you safe. Your safety is my priority and you will have the protection of my body too if need be.”

Neteyam’s masculine pledge of security made parts of you squeeze in feminine appreciation, and you berated yourself internally for letting his appeal distract you.

 You watched as he extended a hand out to you and you placed your hand in his to shake it, only to feel him raise the back of it to his lips instead in a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

A stray ember spat from the bonfire and sailed through the air towards you. You hissed and slapped at your arm where the ember made blistering contact with your bare skin. The heat of the fire suddenly felt stifling and you got to your feet, intent on heading somewhere quieter where you could be alone with your thoughts.

Great Mother, you missed him already. You were going to miss him so much.

Feminine laughter reached you and the points of your ears swivelled in that direction, your eyes following suit a moment later. You spotted one of the female warriors, Penina, giggling while she clasped on to Neteyam���s forearm as the troupe of warriors continued in their conversation. She raised herself onto the balls of her feet to whisper something in his ear before she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Neteyam turned his head and gave Penina a sly smile in response.

You turned away quickly, not wanting to witness anything more. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it.

A sharp stab of sadness pricked in your chest and you silently chastised yourself for being so foolish. Neteyam was the future olo’eyktan for goodness sake. He had his pick of the females and he could court who he liked. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company.

Looking around you, you saw that everyone else was engrossed in their carousing and it allowed you slip away unhindered. Padding towards the appealing tranquillity of the woodland glade that surrounded the clan’s new Hometree, you found yourself a patch of soft moss amongst the bioluminescent eyaye ferns and settled yourself there.

Taking deep breaths through your nostrils, you closed your eyes and surrendered yourself to the sounds of the night; the soft pattering of water from the nearby cascades; the chirruping of insects and the occasional calls of a troop of syaksyuk in the lush canopy overhead. Beating back the soreness in your heart, you willed yourself to pray to the Great Mother, to be grateful and thankful for your achievement.

However, your mind did not appear to want to co-operate and the painful image of Penina kissing Neteyam’s cheek flashed through your consciousness again.

Being mentored by Neteyam was both your greatest blessing and your greatest curse.

After that first meeting with Neteyam, you had only gone from strength to strength under his guidance. He was a kind but firm tutor who held an unwavering belief in your abilities, despite the fact that you did not share that same confidence. He pushed you to your limits, but never beyond them and like any good mentor, he knew when to reward you with praise and when to be more critical.

You should have known you were a lost cause from the moment he had sworn to protect you during that first meeting. You should have been more careful. You should have guarded your heart with the constant reminder that he was not yours and never would be no matter how much you felt drawn to him during your lessons.

*** FLASHBACK ***

Neteyam stood at your back, his stance almost a mirror of yours as he adjusted your shooting form; legs positioned firmly apart, back straight with a strong core, bowstring drawn as you took aim at the target in the distance between the thick trunks of the trees. Your aim and accuracy had strengthened considerably in the weeks training under Neteyam. Tomorrow, you would attempt again the first rite of making a clean kill.

It was difficult to concentrate when you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him and feel his warm breaths tickling the point of one of your ears. The heat of one of his hands seared against the skin of your hip as he steadied you and the fingertips of his other hand supported the wrist of your bow arm. Unable to take your eyes off the target to confirm your suspicion for yourself, you also swore to the Great Mother that the tuft of his tail was delicately caressing the calf of your back leg.

“Whenever you’re ready, loose the arrow.” Neteyam whispered, and the purr of his voice sent a shudder through you that you hoped he did not notice.

Target in focus, you narrowed your eyes and when the instinctive urge hit, you let your arrow fly. It hurtled through the trees to embed itself dead centre of the mounted target amongst your previous attempts. The thrill of success washed through you once more and you gave a little skip on the spot in celebration.

“Seysonìltsan (well done)!” Neteyam cheered, looping an arm around your waist and pressing his cheek to yours in an affectionate nuzzle that made your face and neck flush, “You’re all set for tomorrow. You’re going to be just fine.”

Your initial joy at your success with target practice soon clouded over when you contemplated the final part of making a clean kill: A dagger through the creature’s heart to return its soul to Eywa; the part that you had failed to complete on your own during your first attempt. Rini had been forced to end the creature’s life for you.

The sound of the yerik’s pained, bleating cries still haunted your ears to this day. You had felt rotten being responsible for the arrow that had impaled its side. You had not wanted to cause it anymore pain…

Sensing the change in your mood, Neteyam ran a gentle hand down your side, “Hey, come back to me. What are you thinking about?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, ears twitching, your nervous eyes flitted to his, “Did Rini tell you why I failed this rite last time?”

A frown marred his handsome face and he shook his head, his concern evident as he snaked an arm around your shoulders to pull you against his side.

The soothing strokes of his thumb against your upper arm coaxed you to continue, “My arrow’s aim was true and I managed to impale the yerik. But I couldn’t end its life with my dagger. I don’t like to hurt things. It was in pain and all I wanted to do was make the pain stop. Of course, the pain would’ve stopped once I ended its life but the thought of stabbing it was too much for me to bear. Rini had to do it in the end. I was too weak to.”

Your last words were uttered with all the dejection that you felt and the tears of your shame stung in your downcast eyes. Something so simple, so natural in the cycle of life that all creatures shared in the Great Mother, and you could not do it. You were weak.

You felt warm fingers grasp your chin gently and your face was tilted up to meet Neteyam’s. Your eyes remained shuttered, however, and you cursed the two fat tears that squeezed their way from behind your closed lids to roll down your cheeks.

“Seyla, look at me.” Neteyam implored you, and it was only the sheer tenderness in his tone that made you brave enough to obey. Your breath was stolen from you as you met his striking eyes and his expression was full of compassion, “You’re not weak for finding it difficult to end a life. Your calling is to heal, to restore life even in the direst of circumstances when all seems lost. There is great strength in that. Empathy is not weakness. You have a big heart and I don’t want to hear you call yourself weak ever again.”

Swiping your tears from your face with the back of one hand, you sniffled softly and nodded. But your chin wobbled along with your voice as you posed your question, “What if I can’t do it tomorrow? What if I fail again?”

“Then I’ll guide your hand and we’ll do it together. And after you’ve completed your rites, you’ll never have to hunt again if you don’t want to.”

*** FLASHBACK END ***

And he had guided your hand in the end.

Neteyam’s bigger hand had enveloped yours to steady its trembling amid the bleating cries of the yerik you had felled, and he had given you the strength, the driving force that you needed, to complete your first rite.

Afterward, your adrenalin and your distress had all come to a head and he had held you in his arms where you were both crouched, comforting you as you cried.

That had been the first of your successful firsts, as you called them, and Neteyam had been there every single step of the way after that. Your first kill; your first climb to Iknimaya where you successfully tamed your ikran; your first flight; your first talioang hunt; and your first Dream Hunt. It was always his eyes that you sought out first at the end of each achievement, and your heart had always soared to find his gaze waiting to receive yours.

You were not even aware of it at first, that your heart no longer beat inside the confines of your chest. Then one day as Neteyam had graced you with another one of his magnetic smiles, you realised that your heart now beat in the hold of his hands. He had swindled it from you without you even knowing it and now it was too late to get it back.

Today had been the first day in many moons – almost seven – that you did not arise in the morning and head out to meet Neteyam. You were one of the people now. There was no more training to be had and you had felt the loss of his presence keenly during the day today.

You had thanked Neteyam last night, for all his guidance and perseverance that had led to your success. You had been weary from the exertion of your Dream Hunt, your mind still foggy from the psychoactive effects of the glow worm one had to consume as part of the rite. However, you remembered murmuring your thanks to him and falling asleep against the blissful warmth of his chest as he had carried you home to your family’s alcove.

He must feel it too… You thought to yourself. That magnetism that pushed and pulled between the two of you, surely it was not simply one-sided on your part?

Neteyam had never said anything, had never given any indication to you of wanting to address the bond that had grown between the two of you. All the smiles, the embraces, the tender nuzzles, the deliberate touches and the gentle brushing of his fingers against your skin; all the almost kisses; had you imagined it all? Did your lovesick brain infer more than there actually was to all of it?

“What are you doing here?”

The voice at your back startled you out of your skin and you jumped with an unintentional yelp.

Neteyam’s deep laughter reverberated loudly in the serenity of the glade around you and you turned to swat at the calf of one of his legs, your tail lashing crossly behind you at being alarmed. He moved to settle himself on the moss next to you and you shuffled over to make room for him where the moss was its plushest.

“What have I always told you about watching your back?” Neteyam clucked playfully, reaching out to poke you in the ribs lightly.

You recoiled from the ticklish jab, unable to stop the giggle that escaped you despite the frown you still wore due to his previous action, “I don’t really think anything dangerous will sneak up on me whilst I’m on home-ground. So you’ll forgive me, karyu (teacher), for letting my guard down.”

“You don’t think I’m dangerous?” There was a mischievous glint in Neteyam’s eyes and his tone was cheeky as he regarded you.

Oh, you knew Neteyam could be dangerous with his imposing stature and warriors’ body, corded with powerful muscle that guaranteed brute strength in a wrestling match, and promised carnal delight for a woman caged within his hold in a very different kind of match. The explicit nature of your last thought surprised you and you hoped the furious blush staining your cheeks was not obvious in the dim light of eclipse.

“Seriously though, I know you’re not one for crowds and carousing, but what are you doing hiding out here?” Neteyam queried again, and sincerity coloured his tone this time.

“Everything just got a bit much. And I’m still tired from yesterday, I think. I just wanted somewhere quiet to reflect.” You muttered softly.

The familiar musk of his scent tantalised your nose and you took a discreet inhale, savouring the comfort it brought you while you also tried simultaneously to embed it into the deepest recesses of your memory. You were not going to be around Neteyam much anymore. You had healers’ duties to attend to and he had duties as future clan leader to attend to. That certainly made for quite a lot of distance.

Another twinge of sadness pulled at you and you kept your gaze on your folded knees, unable to look at him. Wanting to deflect and distract yourself from the sombre mood that was threatening to overwhelm you, you parroted his first question back at him, “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back with the others, enjoying the party? You seemed to be quite engaged with the warriors before.”

“I saw you sneak away and I figured I’d check in with you. This is technically your party after all, to celebrate your rebirth. You sure you don’t want to head back out there? There are quite a few people who want to congratulate you.” Neteyam cajoled.

“Not right now. I’ll come back in a bit. You go on though. I’m OK, you’ve seen that no danger has befallen me.” Your attempt to be jovial fell flat even to your own ears and you felt Neteyam shift beside you, lowering his head to try and catch your eye.

“Seyla, what’s wrong? You’re upset. Has someone said something to you tonight? Hurt you? Tell me what happened and I’ll deal with them.”

Neteyam’s concern and immediate oath to defend you was moving. It was wonderful to know he still cared deeply for you despite the conclusion of your mentor-mentee relationship. His devotion to the people he cared about was one of the many things you loved about him.

Great Mother, you loved him. You were in love with him.

The sentiment threatened to choke you and you swallowed it down painfully. You were determined to keep your composure. You did not want to cry tonight in front of Neteyam, not when it was a night of celebration for you as well as for him as your mentor. You would look like an absolute ingrate and you were not about to admit to him the real reason for your melancholy either.

“Nothing untoward has happened. No one has said anything or done anything.” The words were forced from your throat and you realised with mounting horror that you were failing miserably at trying to sound normal. Your voice was unsteady and unbidden tears were pooling in your eyes.

Neteyam’s brow furrowed uneasily at your apparent distress and he shifted to face you. His large hands encircled each of your upper arms, rubbing gently in an attempt to mollify whatever turmoil you clearly felt but seemed reluctant to tell him of. “Shh it’s alright, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you know you can tell me anything, right?”

A choked sob left you and you pawed in frustration at your wet eyes, lying through your teeth, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired and out of sorts. That glow worm really did a number on me.” You pushed at his forearms gently, faking a smile and urging him to return to the merriment of the party, “Go, honestly. Don’t let me ruin your evening.”

Neteyam appeared utterly unconvinced, which was testament to how well he had come to know you; how easily he could read you. He fidgeted uncomfortably then and you mused to yourself how uncharacteristic that was of him when he was usually so self-assured.

He took a slow and measured inhale, one of his hands leaving you to scratch nervously at the back of his head, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Something important.”

The downturned points of your ears pricked upwards with interest, his last two words piquing your curiosity, “What is it? Is it bad news?”

By Eywa, please let it not be bad news. What could be so important that he needed to speak to you right now?

Neteyam took in your worried expression, your beautiful doe-eyes shiny with emotion, and he chuckled lightly, “No, it’s not bad news. Well, it could be bad news for me, but that depends on your viewpoint on the matter.”

“What do you mean?” You queried and you both watched and felt as he took your smaller hands in his, his fingers squeezing and rubbing your palms gently comfortingly.

Licking his lips and swallowing the knot of nerves in his throat, Neteyam began to explain slowly, “You know my position within the clan as my father’s successor.”

“Yes.”

“You know that I will lead this clan as olo’eyktan when my father’s time in that position ends.”

“Yes.”

“Well, every olo’eyktan needs a tsahìk.”

You blinked perplexedly up at him. His three statements appeared rather matter-of-fact and ‘old news’ to you. It was nothing you did not know and nothing you were not already aware of. You were quite puzzled as to why Neteyam was bringing this up now. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m following you. I know all this already.”

A nervous chuckle left Neteyam then and he ran a hand down his face. He knew he was being cryptic and it was the result of his own nerves that caused him to be so. He could see you had no idea where he was going with this and he took the opportunity to tease one last time, “Have you never wondered why I was assigned as your mentor?”

You perked up at the question. Ah! This question you could relate to, “Yes! I wonder about this all the time actually. There are many other skilled hunters or warriors who could’ve trained me. I don’t understand why they designated you. Surely your skills would’ve been better used elsewhere.”

“It was my grandmother’s decision specifically. As tsahìk, she interprets the will of our Great Mother. She determines the best candidates for the future leaders of this clan.” Neteyam continued, his tone measured and he watched carefully for your reaction while you took in his words, “Seyla, you were her choice of tsakarem (future tsahìk). Of course, it was all dependent on you passing your rites, which is why no one could tell you this fact. Not even me. She assigned me as your mentor not just because of my skills, but because she wanted to see if we would get along.”

“W-What?” Your heart was galloping in your chest, your brain reeling as it tried to process the information you had just been enlightened about.

“It was such a hard secret for me to keep.” Neteyam appeared a little sheepish then and he chortled, bringing both of your hands up to his lips to press several kisses to your knuckles, “Your heart is so pure and you’re so beautiful. I grew fonder and fonder of you the more I got to know you. I wanted you to pass your rites and I knew you would with time if I could build your confidence. Now you have, and I’m so proud of you.”

A sudden burst of clarity struck you as Neteyam’s words began to sink in. Everything that had not made sense before made perfect sense now: The reason the future olo’eyktan of all people had been assigned to mentor you; the reason Neteyam had been so forward with his affection during your training; the reason Mo’at had always been so welcoming towards you learning from her, despite the unofficial mantle you had once held for so long as the ‘flop’ of the clan who may never pass your rites. There had been a bigger picture all along.

“Your grandmother wants me to be your tsahìk?”

Neteyam nodded and he reached out to cup your cheek, “Yes, if you’ll accept the position and accept me as your betrothed.”

Something dazzling white and wonderfully warm pierced through the cloud of your melancholy. You looked at Neteyam’s face, really looked at him and at the future he was presenting you with. You, tsakarem! Neteyam’s betrothed and future mate. You would stand at his side, tsahìk and olo’eyktan…

It was such an about-turn of events from what you felt moments ago that you could hardly believe it. But the sheer joy that burst within your heart was so welcome and in that moment, all was right with the world. It felt like the misshapen pieces of your wounded pride that had taken a beating after your past failures had reshaped themselves and found their place.

Beaming at Neteyam through glassy eyes that were now filling with happy tears, you laughed and the sound was bright in your ears.

Neteyam leaned in to nuzzle your cheek tenderly, his warm breath ghosting across the smooth skin there, “Please say you’ll accept and be mine. You are gifted and blessed by Eywa, and it would be an honour to have you as my tsahìk.”

“Yes. Yes, I accept.” Your giggles were wet and your arms instinctively curled around Neteyam’s neck as he lifted you in his arms to your knees in a triumphant embrace.

Neteyam drew back then, his face mere inches from yours. He nuzzled your nose lightly, “May I kiss you?”

With parted lips and a bashful nod, you absently thought to yourself that you were yet again about to experience another one of your firsts with Neteyam. Your first kiss.

His lips met yours in a tentative meld at first, the moist brush of lips an entirely new sensation to you. Neteyam pressed forward again after, claiming your lips this time in a deliberate sweep of lips and tongue that stole your breath from you and sent a spark of desire coursing through your veins.

Your earlier melancholy seemed lightyears away now in the face of what had just happened, and your heart sighed in contentment at the uplifting of its grief that had come with Neteyam’s declaration.

Not wanting to scare you with his fervent ardour, Neteyam pulled away a little to rest his forehead against yours, “By Eywa, you don’t know how long I have wanted to do that.”

“I see you, Neteyam.”

“I see you, yawntu (beloved).” He returned the sentiment, smiling as he delivered a couple more chaste kisses. He sat back on his haunches then to properly look at you, his expression turning serious then, “Will you tell me why were you upset before? I’m just concerned, that’s all.”

Rolling your lips together in mild embarrassment, you outed the truthful answer to his question, “I was sad that I wouldn’t see you every day anymore. I was missing you. But it seems I don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

Several emotions flitted their way across Neteyam’s face; surprise, compassion and then satisfaction. With a wayward smirk, he purred, “Our daytimes may be spent apart now, but our evenings, well, we’ll have to fill those, won’t we? I’m looking forward to getting to know my betrothed in a more personal manner.”

Neteyam surged forward to kiss you again, more forcefully this time, and your head craned backward under the pleasurable plundering of his mouth. You moaned lightly and when a mistimed re-angling of your head caused your teeth to clack against his, you pulled away self-consciously with an apology, “Sorry, I’m new to this. Looks like you’re still going to have to teach me, karyu.”

The impish grin that Neteyam cast you sent hot shivers down your spine and his eyes glinted with the promise of the best kind of wickedness. He placed slow kisses to your face; one to your chin, one to your mouth and then to each of your eyes before he murmued, “Oh, there is so much that I plan to teach you, yawntu. And we have a lifetime to explore all that.”

He punctuated his words with a searing, open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck and the suction he applied there made your toes curl into the plush moss beneath you.

With your eyes closed and your mouth slack-jawed from the pleasure his lips were wreaking where he worshipped your neck and chest, you knew without a doubt that today was just the beginning of the first of many firsts with Neteyam.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*** Author's Note:

If you've made it this far, THANK YOU for reading! <3 How did I do with this? It was very tricky to write at points, as I had to be mindful of the POV and the pronoun usage.

Leave me a line with your thoughts! <3 Could you relate to the protagonist in this? Did you feel what she felt? All the angst, her shyness, the fluff at the end...

On a side note, I love Mo'at always playing matchmaker. I always seem to write her with some cheek in her personality.

Want more Neteyam & Seyla? Check out Part II below which has a very steamy spice-extension. ;) Next Chapter: Part II - I Like Your Stars Better

[cowgurrrl]

I've been rotting away in bed all weekend recovering from a cold and I made the mistake of rereading some parts of OFTM and I miss them so much 😭 how's our favorite famous duo doing? I can't stop thinking about reader having to defend/support joel for whatever reason, but it's with the vibe of this meme LMAO like that is HER man, how dare people say anything about him

J!!! I love this request!! Thank you for sending it in and I’m sorry it took so long ����

Girls on Film

Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader

Summary: this ask

Warnings: unedited because you can’t make me, discussions of toxic behavior, language, Joel being a dilf, June once again not knowing how to properly end a fic, I think that’s it??

Joel is protective of his kids. Sometimes, a little too much, in your opinion but you didn’t marry him because he does things half-way. With each new addition to the family, his papa bear instincts grew and grew. And if you’re being completely honest, his protectiveness and love for his kids is part of the reason why you ended up with five kids to begin with.

When he was giving his interview to People during his Sexiest Man Alive shoot, he was asked what accomplishment of his he’s most proud of. Without missing a beat, he said, “my family.” He went into what little detail you use to talk about the kids in a public setting, even getting a little misty-eyed in the process. The second the crew was out of your house, you nearly jumped his bones right then and there. You found out you were pregnant with the girls about two months later.

So, yeah, he’s a great dad, and it’s super hot. Whatever. It’s universally known within your family that there’s almost nothing he wouldn’t do for his kids. He just loves them with everything he has and wants them to live full and happy lives. Which is fine until he bears his claws in public.

Following a particularly problematic documentary with some of today’s biggest stars, Joel was more than ready to say what had been on his mind when an interviewer stopped him on a red carpet and asked, “are there any people in the music industry you wouldn’t let your daughters date?” The daughters in question were never specified but it’s either between his married thirty-one year old, his lesbian (also married) twenty-eight year old, or his three year old twins. He wasn’t comfortable thinking about any option.

“My kids are free to date anyone they want, but we have a strict no assholes policy in our house.” He said and the interviewer raised her eyebrows. “Like I wouldn’t let ‘em date any of those idiots from that documentary.”

“Why do you say that?” The interviewer asked and Joel shrugged.

“My kids deserve better than some fucker in black eyeliner claimin’ to save rock ‘n roll when all he’s doing is being a sexist pig who makes shitty music.” By the time his words reached your ears, it was too late to stop him. The clip from the interview was making the rounds before you can even get home.

Paul, his poor, poor manager of several years, reaches out to him the next morning to ask if he wants to make a statement, amends, anything to smooth this over. Joel curtly responds to his long email with a short, “no,” and that ends the conversation. What’s even worse if you can’t even argue with him. He’s right. You’ve seen first hand how people in the music industry treat each other and it’s awful. Why should he be the one who gets shit on because he spotlighted other people’s behavior?

You are able to dodge questions, paparazzi, and others wanting to know the inside scoop for weeks until you feel yourself getting just as frustrated as Joel was. Leave it to the press to want the wife to offer explanation for her husband’s actions. It isn’t until you get an offer from Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen that you agree to even think about saying anything.

That night, Joel stays home with the kids and watches you walk out on stage with Carolina in a long bell bottoms, platform wedges, and your (Joel’s) favorite vintage band shirt. You and Carolina hug Andy and get some initial questions answered but it doesn’t take long before the subject turns to Joel.

“Now, I know everything’s been very hush, hush but Joel started a lot of discourse online about the music industry. What can you tell us about what he said?” He asks and you nod, smiling and playing with your wedding ring.

“That’s been like the question of the month, hasn’t it?” You joke to break the ice. “Look, I think we all saw the same documentary. We all heard what those men said and to act like we didn’t is, honestly, kind of ridiculous. Joel knows the industry better than I do and he knows that nothing is going to change unless you call out the people making it miserable for younger kids.”

“So, you agree with what he said?”

“One hundred percent. He was right that we have a no assholes policy for our kids but, other than that, we really don’t have rules about their dating lives,” you say. “And I think he was right to call out those guys. It’s not fair that they get protected by their little boys club and that just has to be the way things go. I think it’s bullshit.”

“You seem to feel passionately about this.” Andy says and you nod.

“Well, it’s not just because people are coming after my husband. It’s because we’ve both seen what any toxic environment can do to people which is why he owns his own label now.”

“And it’s doing very well. He just signed one of the biggest breakout stars of the year, didn’t he?”

“He did. And you know why it’s doing so well?” You ask, leaning in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Because he doesn’t sign assholes. He doesn’t put his name next to theirs. He doesn’t even want to be associated with them because for as much as it’s his name, it’s also my name and our kids’ names. So, people can say whatever they want about what Joel said but I will support him and his mission and when his artists start winning Grammy’s and spots in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, we won’t even remember the names of the people who got fifteen minutes of fame and a shitty sound bite to show for themselves.” You say and somewhere in California, Joel nearly jumps out of his seat with excitement, praising you like you’re there with him.

The second you walk off stage, your phone lights up with Joel’s contact photo and you laugh as you answer it. “Will you marry me?” He asks before you can even say hello.

“I’m assuming you saw the show.”

“Saw it? Baby, I recorded it,” he says. “When are you comin’ home?”

“Tomorrow. You’re supposed to pick me up, remember?” You ask and he groans.

“You ain’t allowed to be that sexy on TV across the country.”

“Keep it your pants, cowboy. I’ll be home soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighs dejectedly like a ten-year-old.

When you get back to California the next day, the discourse has been put to rest and Joel is almost giddy when he watches you come down the escalator. The flowers in his hand get crushed when you hug him tight and let him kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Where are my children?” You ask when he finally pulls away and he smirks.

“With Ryan. The kids wanted to have a play date.”

“So, the house is empty?”

“And clean.”

“Joel Miller, will you marry me?” You echo his question from earlier and he laughs.

Then, like a perfect gentleman, he takes your suitcase, opens doors for you, and drive you home to properly fuck the shit out of you. (Author’s note: I want to put <3 right here so mf bad but I won’t because I’m a professional. PS old man rockstar!joel fucks severely. PPS it’s canon because I say so)

[thekatebridgerton]

The thing about Colin...

So I've been seeing a lot of discourse lately about how Polin shippers never seem to care about Colin. And it made me realize I've never actually done a deep dive on why I find his character so interesting. The way I've done with Anthony and sometimes Benedict. So let's have a talk about Colin Bridgerton

I am very much attached to book Colin in the sense that in RMB we get to see something cute Luke hasn't shown yet: the depth behind his smiling face. And pretty much in the same way Hunger games movie viewers don't realize how they become part of the capitol when they reduce Katniss struggle to just her relationship with Peeta and Gale. Colin Bridgerton is the perfect example of how we become part of 'the ton' when we reduce Colin to simply his smiling happy go lucky looking self.

Because Colin is a great friend, I've said it many times, I would love to have a friend like him, he's very loyal, wouldn't abandon someone in need if he could help it, he has a great sense of humor, he is supportive and kind, roots for the people he loves and encourages them to follow their dreams. It makes sense for his favorite sister to be Daphne because, during Daphne's book, the reason she couldn't find a husband was because men got to know her and saw her as such a good friend it didn't register that she was also a woman.

Colin on the outside is in fact the quintessential happy, smiling, friendly gentleman. Penelope thinks that, lady Whistledown writes that. We as readers are fooled into thinking that as well. This is where it gets fun.

Because there's a point in the narrative where Colin shows his dark side and the reader is like 'wait where did that come from? I've never seen him act like that before ' and of course you didn't dear reader, you're the ton, you're the person who only knows him from Lady Whistledown. That's the trick. Because he didn't show his dark side to you! He's never shown it to anyone! He's charming Colin!

And this is where I absolutely love Colin. Because yes, he's funny and charming and a riot to hang out with, he's well read, well traveled and an excellent conversationalist. But behind all that, is a man who feels deeply and loves passionately and gets easily frustrated, what I mean to say is that underneath Charming Colin, is someone completely different who doesn't know how to break out of the label everyone has put on him for so many years and expresses his emotions in a clumsy extravagant way that is so Colin. Also behold, surprise surprise, he has a temper, he's got a responsible streak that's more in line with Anthony's years of conditioning than he would care to admit. And insecurities about his place in the world that lead him to lash out a time or two.

So if you ask me, I like the Colin we get to know underneath the superficial charming Colin thing he's got going on, more than I like the version we get in Lady Whistledown.

And it's funny seeing so many show viewers take his character at face value. Even Polin shippers, write him off as ' cute cuddly wouldn't harm a fly Colin, super friendly, clueless Colin ' when he's actually one of the most deep characters there is, exactly because he's a social chameleon and tailors himself to be what he thinks people expect him to be. As a third son, as a brother and as a friend. Never actually showing anyone his negative side because he thinks people won't like him any more ( and from the comments I see dissing his characterization in RMB that may very well be true)

The man may not have created a whole alter ego to blow off his negative emotions but believe me he has them and he's self aware enough to know he's expected to never show them. Which is actually worse in the long run because he ends up a mess of surpressed dissatisfaction and frustration.

Maybe that's what I find so interesting about him that his character is just as two faced as Penelope. I'm not saying that Colin isn't genuinely nice and funny and friendly. I'm saying he's not like that 24/7 and that he pretends he is just to cover up his insecurities. Because deep down he wants to be liked and doesn't tolerate rejection well.

It takes a lot for him to come to terms with the fact that he wants to be liked for who he truly is and not just for the mask he puts up Infront of the ton and his family. Assimilating both his happy go lucky charming side, with his darker more temperamental and dominant side that he never showed to people before. It's as much of a journey of self discovery for Colin as it is for the reader.

I had hopes that in s3 we actually were led to find out that no Colin isn't actually some clueless himbo all the time, because underneath that he's just as restless and dissatisfied with himself as the rest of his family but he doesn't show it. I would love for s3 to take us behind the scenes of clueless Colin to show us exactly all those sides of him he doesn't share with anyone else. But I don't know, maybe Shondaland will keep him just as friendly and seemingly wonderful as it's been showing him so far.

And that's the tea

[hillbillyoracle]

I get why tradwife content is so appealing - but it's not for the reasons they think.

Some information upfront: I am trans (nonbinary - GNC), hormonally intersex, queer, and have been partnered with a trans woman for going on seven years. I became progressively disabled and eventually was not able to go to school or work. I slipped into the housespouse role, especially as I started to regain some measure of functioning. Even though it was never my goal to be in this role, especially not for this long, for the last several years I've helped run progressive spaces and resources for non-traditional homemakers.

I say all this to situate what I write next. Please note: once again, I use AMAB and AFAB because not everyone around me IDs with their AGAB but what I want to talk about here breaks down along AFAB and AMAB lines in my experience. Yours may differ.

I considered writing up this morning - my family's Christmas - as an example of the various kinds of normalized incompetency I see in the AMAB folks around me embodying but I imagine most people who are going to relate to what I'd say on any level have their own stories. I think we're reaching a point where even sharing examples for the purpose of teaching can be demoralizing because we really just wind up seeing how completely mundane AMAB obliviousness or even outright hostility is. I don't want to add to that. But picture a fairly stereotypical scene - my AMAB partner making us late, AFABs all doing the invisible labor of making it go smoothly (grabbing cups before full grown adults knocked them over, dealing with trash and tidying, sorting and organizing, noticing each other's feelings and tending to them, etc) while AMAB folks laughed about how little the knew about the presents that had been purchased and generally kicked back. That was my morning.

It's not an experience that seems that miserable on it's face. No one said anything cruel. No one got hit. None of us are sitting in an ER. We're alive. But you could look around the room and see how my sister and I especially were just fucking tired by the end of it. AFAB exhaustion is just the going rate for family holidays it seems.

At one point this morning, when I tried to voice my frustrations to my partner she flat out said to me "No one asked you to do that." People who've shared some of my experiences will get why that statement always stings without me having to say it. It's the ultimate get out of jail free card for her - you know you will still face the consequences if you didn't get that work done and now it won't even be appreciated or the cost to you considered. It can be genuinely heartbreaking to hear. Implicit in it is the expectation that you always have to ask for what you want and need - though you usually won't get it without also giving detailed instructions every single time making it easier to just do it yourself - with no amount of learning patterns or generally empathizing being necessary on their part. Problem solved I guess.

Which brings me to my opening statement. The appeal of tradwife content is in the idea that it is possible to be happy in a relationships in which your needs are not anticipated, desires are only rarely considered, and your emotions are not responded to.

And I know they would argue differently - that's fine - but I've watched people in my communities flirt with the ideas before and I can tell you, it is not coming from some genuine belief in the bioessentialism that the TradWife crowd espouses. It's firmly rooted in disillusionment with the narratives we've been fed about what good and healthy relationships "should" be.

Let's use an imperfect analogy. All the content out there about building healthier relationships are like those authors who teach other people how to write and publish their first novels. Even among avid followers and people who follow the course - not all of them are going to wind up getting publishing deals like author teachers did. But when that's all you ever see about books on your feed, it starts to feel like everyone is figuring out how to do this and you just...suck for some reason. Now imagine that you publishing a book was seen as a vital part of the queer movement and everyone you knew had written these great books. Imagine that talking about how difficult you're finding it to write this book was not only seen as a threat to the larger movement but also made you a leech or otherwise dangerous or bad. That's what so much relationships content feels like these days.

There's a lot of nuance to this I'm not going to be able to capture; how the taker/giver dynamic still often gets reproduced in AFAB/AFAB relationships but generally along lines of any privilege disparities rather than strictly presentation, how transmasculine folks occupy a very liminal space in this conversation because other forms of privilege can impact it how the dynamic plays out so much, how trans/queer theory hasn't developed many robust models and methods for thinking through how queer and trans folks repeat toxic conditioning in their relationships with each other, etc.

But at the end of the day, the reason I see most people dip into it - why I myself have read through their blogs looking for answers - is because the messages we're told about what relationships should be like don't match the reality of the choices we really have available to us, especially when it comes to being with AMAB folks.

The fact that so many people cannot seem to sit with is that some people have no choice but to be single and some people do not really have the choice to be single. Health care, survival needs being met, access to family members and friends, transportation, etc can all be dependent on staying with someone who does the least. Making the best out of mediocre and unfulfilling relationships is a strategy for survival.

TradWife content not only makes overfunctioning seem possible long term but meaningful in some way that the relationship itself is not. I'm sure many of those content creators really love their husbands. But emotional intimacy is rarely discussed in these spaces. It does not seem to be highly valued. And it can almost be a relief when compared to spaces that harp on the basics you're giving but not receiving so regularly, where you not leaving is seen as enabling or leeching/gold digging stead of the economic dead end that it actually is. It is both a haven and a new hell.

Queer, trans, and disabled homemakers are effectively in the alleyway between houses, instead of in a house of our own. We're running between the eaves trying to stay dry. In one space we're told that our queerness/transness is good but our unhappiness in our relationships are seen as a threat to the cause and our difficulty leaving is seen as regressive and even exploitative (which ignores all the domestic labor we do). In the other space, we're told that our domestic labor is a beautiful gift and that there's something transformative about giving without expecting in return - a tempting ideal - but that our transness and queerness are the reason for our unhappiness.

This is all just to say I get it. While I don't support TradWife content and always shoot down bioessentialism in the spaces I'm in, I also get the appeal of the idea that the work itself is something you're meant for, that that kind of caring can fill the void of never really receiving it. I get the appeal of a space that values your labor instead of erasing it as just expected and calling you a leech.

I'm glad there's good content out there for building healthier and more enjoyable relationships for those who can both genuinely pursue it. But the older I get, the more I've seen that that is a very small portion of those in relationships and those available. Many of us are even more constrained n our options and maligned in our choices. The dearth of resources on making things work in the relationships that are okay but ultimately unfulfilling means people will continue to turn to things like TradWife content.

[aninkwellofnectar]

Ace anon here and I completely get what you mean. Sorry if I'm not explaining myself well but I really appreciated your thoughts.

I also get frustrated by seeing a lot of ✨ let women focus on romance ✨ type choice feminism. Because realistically, the structures in place funnel women towards doing that anyway and no one realistically has the power to stop them. "Let" kind of means "don't ever question or provide alternatives" in this context. To the point where advocating that women should not *have* to do something if they don't want to is perceived as shaming women who do. Or more attention and support being given to people who make the unconventional choice is perceived as an attack on the conventional one and not just... people making the unconventional choice needing more support than people who are already supported by society.

I think it's part of a broader issue where society cannibalises critiques of itself to reinforce itself. So women are now far more likely to identify as feminists but the feminist ideas that make it to the mainstream are mainly ones that don't really threaten the status quo too much. So now you can claim anything is feminist so long as a woman is choosing to do it. But if you talk about how we live in a patriarchy and social pressures influence women's choices then somehow that's anti feminist because you criticised a woman. Providing context is seen as limiting choice. (But also if you want to criticise women who don't fit conventional feminine expectations, you can just baselessly accuse them of internalised misogyny.)

TLDR: you're 💯 correct that saying "let women choose" while leaving all the patriarchal structures that influence women's choices in place (and actively resisting attempts to question them) is just going to result in more of the same

you explained yourself perfectly well! i just wanted to contextualise my earlier posts and why i was making them.

but nothing further to add, you've hit the nail on the head here. in the end conformist women don't and more specifically won't try to understand what it's like to live the life of a non-conformist woman because they genuinely think they speak for us all and they view us needing more attention, support and indeed community as a personal attack on them. i highly doubt this will change and it's a large reason i've been parting ways with feminism ideologically (since late 2023).

but thank you for stopping by, it's nice to speak to someone who gets it.

[disneysnowprincess]

I ADORE The Black Cauldron, and I also like The Chronicles Of Prydain. However, I do have a few issues with the Prydain books, including how most of the Prydain fandom constantly bashes on The Black Cauldron movie [thank you for appreciating the movie alongside the books!], Eilonwy's questionable treatment in the books [I know it was in the 60s, but I was frustrated seeing Eilonwy having to wash dishes and have to give up her magic], the books get mean-spirited towards Taran at times, Elidyr's arc [I don't think it was handled well, Elidyr was a egotistic jerk who got Taran in trouble numerous times and his redemption came too late IMO. Gurgi's arc in the movie is much better.], book!Dallben in general [carelessly leaving The Book Of Three where Taran would get his hands on it and get burned then acting surprised when it happened, neither him or Coll went to look for Taran during the events of Book Of Three, the fact he straight out said he had doubts about Taran becoming the High King in the final book, and choosing to leave when Taran doesn't even know HOW to be a king yet], and the ending of the High King [I'm not opposed to a bittersweet ending, but magic leaving Prydain feels like a cynical attempt to deconstruct fantasy stories, and Eilonwy being forced to give up her magic leaves a sour taste in my mouth]. I still love the Prydain books [though I prefer the movie], in spite of my issues with them.

Hi Friend!

First of all: wow, a message on my tumblr in 2024?! What is this??? I honestly don't expect anyone to see my ramblings anymore, but I really appreciate that you took the time to send this message!

In response to your question, I completely understand. I know that I am in a Facebook group for the book and I am basically the person that gives all the updates on anything film related to the page (although I'm sure a few people find it a bit annoying lol). I do so because even though it's not related to the books directly, it is still Prydain related. Honestly, any promo for those books and Lloyd's work at this point is good promo, even if he wasn't a huge fan of the film, because it keeps his work in people's mind's and might even encourage people to read the books! When I was in high school my account dedicated to Princess Eilonwy got so many people to read the books, so I don't think mixing the two together is bad.

I think your issues with the books are COMPLETELY VALID. I will admit, I haven't read the books in a GOOD few years, so small details and plots are a bit muddy for me because I do focus so much more on the film itself and other interests. I think personally when reading books I try to objectively look at them with the view that flaws in characters and plots are meant to be there because they were put in by the author for whatever reason. While they might not be our favourite pathway that could've happened, Lloyd wanted to tell his story in a particular way. I do agree, magic leaving Prydain at the end was unfortunate, but I interpret it as a way for Lloyd to connect that world to our own. Prydain is an old world for the land that is now the UK, and the series is built on old welsh mythology, so maybe that was just a way for him to in the end be like "this is also part of our history, and why we don't have magic anymore." Who knows, that was just something that popped into my head while responding to your message.

If you ever do want to chat more, please feel free to DM me on Instagram (Eillyboo)

I've been seriously considering starting a Black Cauldron Film page on facebook. There is already one for the film but it's run by one person and not really a community board as he's the only one able to post. I see so much buzz about the film lately especially with the Villains land coming so I would love to connect with more people about it!

Have a great day!

[chipped-chimera]

Okay gimmie a sec I need to scream about being a Lesbian and my frustrations around it as someone signing on late.

Will I post this? Idk. But I'm about to blow a gasket.

I love being lesbian, okay. It's the first time it felt something has FIT properly. It's like when I got my Autism diagnosis - suddenly everything has context and MAKES SENSE. It feels like HOME.

But the more I learn about history in terms of wlw, and look around for representation and shit now that I FINALLY got where I am ... the more depressed I get. In a way, being bisexual was easier. It was easy to find rep. To feel rep. People were generally defensive of the label, stamped out Pan/Bi discourse most of the time and defended it loudly and with pride! I was happy in that label at the time, though it wasn't for me in the end. I felt safe. Validated. Accepted.

Lesbians? I feel like the label has been a battleground since the moment I stepped foot into it. I am seeing conversations swung around with all the grace and sharp edges of a mediaeval flail with the complete disregard of healthy boundaries others have, which again - knowing the HISTORY of how lesbianism has been interpreted over time is just ... it's misogyny in another coat. Whether internalised or intentional it is still here and it is still damaging. I sit here wondering why it's okay to have gay exclusive or trans exclusive or bi exclusive spaces but if a Lesbian tries to create one it is absolutely BATTERED for being 'exclusionary'. I mean, I know why it's like this. It's the fucking TERFs. The TERFs poisoned the water. So now a lot of lesbians feel compelled to open spaces to all as an assurance to keep them out, and in turn that is isolating. I desperately search around for people to relate to, to help navigate this world I've come into so late: I am lost, I need help, I am so isolated and alone.

And I can't find anything. Or its few and far between. I have to sift through walls and walls of experiences that while valid, are not mine. They don't help. I see lesbians getting attacked for expressing their pain over things like this, that lesbian bars are on the decline. I see headlines about a women exclusive bar as part of a temporary art exhibition being taken to court in my country by some man who filed for discrimination. I read the history of Lesbians in the American West, poorly documented as it is, that 'Lesbians had it better' than gay men because 'romantic friendships' were normalised between women - because no one believed a relationship could be 'real' unless a man was involved. Kissing and sleeping with your female friend was fine - you were just expected to 'grow up' and eventually conform to the patriarchal society structure of getting married and having children. Only men could become permanent 'confirmed bachelors'. The top Reddit related to lesbians is for porn. That objectification even invades the lesbian tag here, on a site where NSFW content has nearly been completely expunged. I know it's shit like this, way back in the 2000s was the reason I just could not accept being lesbian. I couldn't see myself in it because it was so objectified and the thought of 'engaging' in it felt gross. And it feels disgusting now.

I grew up in an environment where Lesbianism was considered something people did for attention or clout, to become more attractive to men. I see posts even now of angry lesbians venting about being predated on by bisexual women, who only mention way later that their 'boyfriend is feeling left out :('. So while it's not as bad as it was, it's still there. It's just now no longer AS socially acceptable.

So I think I understand why it took me so long. I think my mind was trying to protect me from all of this. Because although being Lesbian feels like home, I feel even more invisible. Bisexuals always were joking about being 'invisible', but as a Lesbian I feel like I don't even exist. I'm on another plane of reality. If I try to stick my head out there and make myself visible I am shamed, ridiculed, second guessed, invalidated. I see it happening everywhere, every damn day.

I see it in the shitty wlw fic ratio in nearly every fandom on Ao3. I see it in Lesbian Day of Visibility being so quiet on Tumblr that I missed it. I see it in the comments section of a relationship columnist who also came to her own realisation about being lesbian late, being told she 'just needs to find the right man' to fuck her right, she's not a lesbian! Fucking a man is the solution - even though she was married and in a het relationship for years. Even as she fights back with studies showing how wide the gender orgasm gap is.

Everywhere I turn, I am told I am not valid. That my opinions don't matter. That my preferences aren't real because a man isn't involved in some way, and it's only for THEIR entertainment when it is acceptable. I see lesbian spaces filling with bisexuals and transgender women and little lesbian voices left. I hesitate to write the last sentence because I know of the ire I could invoke by simply stating that.

I love being Lesbian. It feels like home. But I'm in an empty house with cracked windows and if I make the slightest noise someone throws a bottle through the window at me. I feel unsafe, scared, belittled, isolated and so, so fucking alone. I don't feel proud. I almost wish I could go back to being Bisexual. But it doesn't work that way. I can't keep pretending I'm something I'm not anymore, that has taken up and destroyed so much of my life and health over the years. And the idea of going back, trying to bring men back into focus feels physically disgusting. I spent 10 years in a het relationship, I think I gave it a good go and it WASN'T FOR ME. And I shouldn't need to say I have dated or fucked a woman for that to be valid either.

I don't know where I'm going with this. All I know is I feel like shit and I don't even know where or how the find people to help me through this. And it fucking hurts.

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #52

previously - Journal Entry #51 (part two)

Yuri

Have you ever wished you didn't exist?

I'm not talking about wanting to take your own life or hoping that you'll just fall asleep one night and never wake up. I mean wishing that you actually didn't exist, that you'd never been conceived and born in the first place.

I wish for that.

I'm not sure if I'll post this recording to our journal. I may even delete it from my phone later. The only reason I'm doing this at all is because I'm feeling so frustrated and upset and... I don't know. Worthless. Horrible. Perhaps angry at myself because I can never live up to anyone's expectations for me, not even my own.

Despite the number of times I'm told that I'm enough just as I am, I can't make myself believe it. I notice how people pretend to like me when they don't, and how they're polite and deferential to me because they think I'm too fragile to handle their honest feelings about me. I'm aware of their disapproval and disdain.

In all fairness, though, I can't blame anyone for disliking me. I see the work I create for everyone around me and how much of a burden I am to them. I despise myself for that.

The sad irony is, as much as I don't want to be a burden, not being one seems impossible. I'll never not be chronically ill. There'll be periods when I'm reasonably well, but there'll also be times when I'm too sick to do anything for myself and someone will have to take care of me. That's a reality I can never escape from.

I can guess what some of you would probably say now if you heard this. But, you love all the attention you get, don't you?

I think it’s a natural human response to like receiving attention, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. The truth is, being bathed or fed or massaged feels good, and knowing I have people in my life who’ll do that and so many other personal care tasks for me gives me a certain sense of security. And yes, in the moment, I do enjoy it. The problem is, when the task is done and I’m alone with my thoughts, I start to feel guilty for allowing myself to forget, even for a second, that these things aren’t meant for my gratification. I remember I'm a selfish, awful person for enjoying something that comes at the cost of someone else's time and effort, particularly because I know full well that I can never pay them back.

The thing that bothers me most of all is that the people who do the majority of the caretaking are my mother and Victor. The people I love more than anything, who I want to see happy and who I want to protect are the very ones who suffer the most because of me.

My beautiful, brave, loyal Victor would do anything for me, and I'd move the mountain itself to repay him if I could, but my intention is not enough. I love him with my entire mind, body and soul, but my love is not enough. I don't deserve him, and I don't know why he stays with me, because nothing about me will ever be worthy of someone as good and gentle and selfless as him. Nothing can ever erase the imbalance in what we give each other, and that truth chips away at my heart more and more as time goes on.

Victor says he loves me, and he’s demonstrated it in so many ways that I’d have to be completely detached and indifferent not to believe him. He also says he doesn't mind all the work he has to do, but I'm not so certain about that one. How could it possibly be true that it doesn’t bother him? It's unfair, and I know it's hard on him, being tied down by me all the time. He gave up so much for me, and here I am with nothing of value to give in return.

Sometimes I think it would've been better if we'd never met at all. He could've had a good life without me, chased all his dreams and done everything he'd planned to do.

It's too late now. He's attached to me, and I've ruined his life, and there's no way for me to set him free to reclaim what's left of it without hurting him in the process. I offered that to him once before and it upset him so much that I swore I'd never mention it again, even if I think it'd be in his own best interest to get away from me.

Not that I ever want to be apart from him, you understand, but if I need to choose between his happiness and my own, I'll always want to choose his. It's why I'm willing to move halfway around the world, why I didn't say no when he told me he wanted to keep competing, and why I agreed to the idea of Fox coming here to help us. It's why I acquiesce to most things I'm not entirely comfortable with. Letting him have what he wants without objection is the only currency I can exchange for everything I've taken from him.

If he ever wanted to leave of his own accord, I'd let him have his way there, too. I wouldn't try to force him to stay. If it'd make him happy, I'd let him go even though it would shatter me into a million pieces, even though I'm sure I'd be in pain forever from the grief of such a loss.

Perhaps that would be my penitence. Maybe it's what I truly deserve.

I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't even be recording this. It's nothing but a confused, emotional rant, and if I do end up posting it, I fully expect that anyone who sees it will think even less of me than they already do. It's just that saying it aloud helps, even if I'm only talking to myself. At the very least, I won't lie to myself. Nearly everyone else would tell me whatever they thought I wanted to hear, which is why I've stopped talking to people about my troubles. What would be the point?

Victor says I need to see a professional, and maybe he's right. Maybe I could tell this stuff to a psychologist who isn't part of my life and who could be objective. I doubt there's anything they could realistically do to make me less of an inconvenience. They can't cure my illness or make me physically stronger, and they can't make anyone like or respect me, but I guess they'd be someone who'd listen.

Last night, after Fox left, Victor found me crying in the upstairs bathroom. I might as well admit that I threw up and that I was trying to hide that fact as well as my little breakdown from him. Have you ever tried to throw up quietly? If you discover the secret to doing that, please tell me what it is.

Because I know someone will inevitably ask, the reason I was trying to hide it is because Victor doesn't like seeing me cry. He says it makes him feel helpless. Besides, he's so tenderhearted that if I'm crying, he often ends up crying too, and I don't like seeing him cry either. I'm usually good at suppressing my emotional responses, so I really don't cry all that often, but for the past few weeks it seems I haven't been able to hold anything in. It's another sign of weakness, I suppose; yet another way I've failed him.

He knocked on the bathroom door and called for me several times. When I didn't answer, he simply opened the door and let himself in, exactly as I'd known he would.

I didn't look up at him, and just mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," I said, because it was the truth. Everything felt wrong, and I was sorry for all of it.

"Uh... you think you could be a little more specific?" Victor crossed the room in a few long strides and sat near me on the floor. "Did you get sick?"

"I think you know I did."

"Okay. But, is there something else?"

"I don't want Fox to come any more," I told him.

"Why? Did something happen?"

I shook my head. I really didn't feel like discussing it, and I didn't think I was in a fit condition to have a decent conversation about anything, much less about that. Besides, how was I supposed to explain to him how inadequate Fox makes me feel? How was I supposed to say that I don’t like how patronizing Fox is, and how I feel humiliated and powerless when he talks to me as if I’m a stubborn child or as if I’m intellectually delayed?

The part I hate the most about having Fox here is how he keeps trying to convince me that I'm not actually as ill as I say I am, like I'm exaggerating my condition for attention and that I'm capable of far more than I'll admit. He seems to be under the impression that all it takes is a little willpower to overcome pain, nausea, muscle weakness, extreme fatigue and all my other symptoms, not to mention anxiety. What he doesn't realize is that I have plenty of willpower, and if it were really that easy, I wouldn’t need somebody like him. I'd have been cured long ago.

He tries to make me do things that are much too difficult, if not impossible, and I can almost never do them without consequences to my mental and physical well-being. Although I push through each task as best I can to avoid a conflict that I know I wouldn't have the stamina to deal with, I almost always feel far worse afterwards. He says he's helping me, and he calls it progress. I call it cruel and unusual torment.

He's supposed to be taking care of me. He's getting paid to take care of me. I think that obligates him to stick to caretaking, and should not extend to pretending to be my friend or to practicing his dubious amateur occupational therapy on me.

But, I couldn't confess any of that, could I?

"No," I said at last. "Everything's fine. I just... I think I can look after myself now."

I couldn't, of course, and I have no idea why I said that. I just didn't know how much longer I could endure the situation as it stood, and I suppose it was a way to get Victor to make Fox leave without me resorting to complaining about him.

Victor pulled at his lower lip with his teeth and gave me a worried look. My husband may be many things, but stupid and imperceptive aren't among them. He saw through me straight away. "Yuri, you can barely make it from your bedroom to here without help. I don't know if you're strong enough to look after yourself yet."

But, for some unknown reason, I persisted. "I'm not going to get any stronger by letting other people wait on me, am I?"

"You know it doesn't work like that," he said. "It's not like physio, where you build up strength in your muscles by exercising them. You're not going to get better by wearing yourself out."

"I'm never really going to get better anyway," I said. "I might as well do what I can, when I can, right?"

"Yes, when you can," he said. "Maybe in a few more weeks, when you—"

"No!" I cut him off mid-sentence. All of a sudden, I felt anger rising up inside me like a wave. It was irrational and relentless, and I felt unable to control it. "I don't want him here. Tell him not to come back."

"No," Victor said. "I'm not going to do that."

I stared at him, admittedly a little shocked. Victor hardly ever says no to me. "But—"

"No," he repeated. "You might not want his help any more, but I think you still need it. And I still need a little help too, until I get this other cast off."

"Helping you is meant to be my job," I said. "It's what i should be doing."

"You have a valid reason not to be doing it."

"But, I should be doing it," I insisted.

"Maybe," he said. "But I know you can't right now, and that's okay."

"I hate this!" I brought the edge of my fist down on the cold bathroom tiles as hard as I could. A jolt of pain shot up my entire arm, and as much as I tried not to wince, I'm sure I must have. "I'm tired of our lives being this way, of me not being able to do anything for you and just being a useless waste of everyone else's energy. I'm so tired of all of it, Victor. I just want it to stop."

Victor was gazing at me with an expression that might have been equal parts sympathy and perplexity. Whatever it was, it seemed obvious he didn't know how to respond. All he said was, "I know."

"No, you don't know!" I retorted. "You have no idea what it's like to be trapped in a body like mine!"

"I guess I don't, but—"

"You don't know what it's like to be exhausted and in pain all the time, or to worry that the slightest change could make it worse. You don't know how it feels to panic every time you realize you have to eat because everything you put into your mouth has the potential to hurt you. And you have absolutely no idea how worthless it makes me feel to not be able to do the simplest things for myself, much less be able to help you."

By the time I'd gotten all that out, I was shaking and crying, and there was nothing I wanted more than to be able to get up off the floor and flee as far away from everyone and everything as I possibly could. I didn't want Victor to look at me in the state I was in. I wanted to disappear, and contrary to what I previously said, in that moment I really did wish that I could go to sleep and not wake up ever again.

Victor reached toward me, like he wanted to pull me into a hug. Any other time, I'd be desperate for him to hold and comfort me, but the thought of him touching me just then was unbearable.

It was all I could do to speak through my tears. "Please, don't."

"But—" He lowered his hands and watched me for what felt like ages before he let out a long breath and tried again. "I think you need to tell me what's really going on."

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing but the same thing that's always going on around here."

"Which is...?"

"You know," I said.

"How about you humour me?”

I scrubbed fiercely at my eyes with the heels of my palms. "I'm tired. I'm tired of... everything. I don't want to keep fighting my own body any more. I don't want to keep pretending that I'm okay and that our situation is okay and that everything's fine when it's not."

"You don't have to pretend anything," he said. "We both know everything's not okay. And like, this is gonna sound like a cliché or whatever, but it's okay that we're not okay right now. Things will improve soon. They always do."

"No, they don't," I said. "Maybe it seems like that for a while, but we're always going to be caught in this cycle. Unless you decide to do something about it, you’re always going to be stuck with me."

"What do you mean, stuck with you? You make it sound like a chore or something."

"Isn't it?"

"If you're asking if it's a lot of work to take care of you, then the answer is yeah, it is a lot of work. But, it's not a chore. If it was, do you think I'd still be here? ‘Cause that’s what you meant, isn’t it? I’m only really stuck until I’ve had enough and I make up my mind to leave?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I’m not going to leave you, Yuri,” he said. “If I didn’t think I could cope with all your health stuff, I wouldn’t have stayed in the first place. I’d have been gone already.”

"Would you?” I said. “If you didn't feel like you had to, would you still stay?”

"You're assuming I feel like I have to.”

“Aren’t you tired too? Don’t you need a break from me and my problems?”

“A break from you? No.” He smiled slightly, but I got the impression it was born of awkwardness rather than a more positive emotion. He gestured vaguely. “It’d be nice to get a break from… this, ‘cause I am pretty wiped out, but that’s not your fault. It’s just real life, you know? I need a break from real life.”

“Me too.”

“Anyway,” he went on. “I told you before, we can get help. I mean, we've got help right now and I'm practically doing nothing, so..."

"But, you would if you could."

"Naturally, I would. You know that. But, I know my limits.”

“Are we close? To your limit?”

“Can you stop for a second, please?” he said. “I don't even understand why you're bringing this up, and I need to know why we’re talking about it. I thought we already settled this. Didn't we promise that we’d stick together through everything?”

"It's... I'm thinking about it for a lot of reasons."

"Such as?"

"Seiji," I said.

“What about him?”

“He came to visit me in the hospital."

"I know."

"He's not my friend,” I stated. The words hurt, or maybe it was the realization behind them that was so painful.

"What are you talking about?” Victor asked. “Seiji is your friend. He loves you."

The things that'd come out of Seiji's mouth the afternoon of his visit had made me question whether he'd ever been my friend. It made me wonder if he, like nearly everyone else, merely tolerated me and was only polite because it'd be socially unacceptable not to be, and now he'd finally grown tired of the pretense. "He thinks I'm a monster," I told my husband. "He was so angry."

“A monster? He didn’t really say that.”

“He did.”

"He brought you mochi," Victor said, his confusion evident in his tone. Clearly, Seiji hadn't mentioned anything to him about what had taken place.

For a few heartbeats, I paused, trying to decide if I should continue or not. Finally, I replied, "Yes, he brought me mochi, but I have no idea why. I don't even know why he came, because all he did was tell me what a terrible person I am. He thinks your accident was my fault."

"It wasn't," Victor said. "He's wrong about that."

"Perhaps, but I don't think he's wrong about everything else."

"Everything else. What's included in 'everything else'?"

"He said I don't deserve you. He said... he said you could've done better than me and that I'm holding you back. He said I'm hurting you just by being with you, and that if you're unhappy, it's my fault." I stopped at that point because I could feel tears starting to sting my eyes again and my chest was starting to feel tight.

What Seiji had said wasn’t anything new to me. I’d thought of most of it on my own, long before that. But, hearing the words coming from someone else caused them to strike home all that much harder.

“He’s wrong,” Victor said. “He knows I’m not unhappy. I told him that myself. And you’re not holding me back from anything.”

“I feel like I am.”

“You’re not. I’m doing everything I want to do,” he said. “Yeah, I gave up some stuff, but it’s not like you forced me to. Coming here when i did was my choice. I could’ve waited, but I didn’t want to.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Do you want the honest answer?”

“Yes.”

“It’s like I told you before,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I’d done things differently or made different choices, and sometimes I feel sad or angry about it, but I don’t think I’d call it regret. I love you, and I was determined that I was gonna be with you sooner or later, and if that involved a few sacrifices, I’d say they were worth it.”

“But, what about me? I haven’t sacrificed anything for you.”

“You don’t think so?”

I shook my head. “I suppose I had nothing to give up, in any case.”

“Sacrificing doesn’t necessarily mean you literally give something up. Sometimes it’s like, metaphorical or whatever. Like, I think it took a massive amount of courage for you to let me move in with you. You could’ve said no, but instead of letting your fear tell you what to do, you took a risk."

“That doesn’t seem like much of a risk."

"In hindsight maybe, but think about how you felt at the time."

"I wanted you to come," I said. “And I didn't give up anything compared to what I got out of it.”

“I got a lot out of it too,” he said. “It’s not as unequal as you think.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“I got you. You’re amazing, whether you believe it or not.”

“That’s not an answer." There was an edge to my voice that I didn't like, but once the words were out, there was nothing I could do. "That's the sort of thing you say when you can't think of anything."

“Okay, fine," Victor responded. "You need me to be specific?"

"Can you be?"

"Yeah, I can," he said. "You’re my voice of reason. You help me make good decisions, and you always know how to calm me down when I’m too hyper and the noise in my brain is really bad. You teach me stuff all the time, and you do your best to take care of me.” One side of his mouth twitched in what might’ve been an ironic smile he was trying to keep at bay. “Maybe even when you shouldn’t.”

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Because everything you just described... it's nothing. An acquaintance could do all that."

"You think I'd trust just any random acquaintance with my secrets? You think I'd let them into my personal space? Or let them do the stuff you did for me after my accident?"

"You let your mother and stepfather do it."

"Yuri, they're my parents. Well, Julian's not exactly my parent, but you know what I mean. I trust them just as much as I trust you, and if you don't think that much trust counts for anything, then... I don't know what else to tell you."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!" he exclaimed.

The sharpness of his tone startled me, and totally against my will, I lost the battle to hold my tears back any longer. "I've tried so hard," I said. "But, I just... I can't be what you need. I'll always be the one taking more than I can give, and nothing I ever do will be enough. Seiji is right. You deserve so much more than I can ever offer you."

He was silent for a long time after that, but finally he said. "Do you even know what I need?"

I didn't respond. How could I? The challenge in his tone was so obvious, there was no mistaking its implication. If I answered anything other than no, it'd be the wrong answer. He was compelling me to admit my failure as a partner, but what was the point? We both understood that much already.

I closed my eyes and lowered my head. The pain I felt in my heart was a thousand times greater than anything I'd ever experienced in my body, and one thought drowned out all the others, playing in my brain on repeat.

I want all of this to end.

[idyllic-affections]

🌻 its cruel of anyone to push someone away from their own culture just cuz they dont fit the "standards" or whatever other shit 💔 ohhh u dont know the language— stfu first of all learning a language is hard. im bilingual and its hard for ME to learn any other language. i had german and spanish in school and i simply could not learn any of them and same goes for any other language i tried to learn on my own!! i learned nothing in the end even tho ive been learning english since first primary, meaning i already should have some experience in learning a new language. but i dont. and second of all no one should ever demand proof from anyone that they are a part of this culture or whatever like!!

it’s not only annoying but also fucked up that people have the sheer audacity to set stupid requirements for OTHER PEOPLE'S identity. one's identity can be so hard and sensitive of a topic and having someone try to police u in this matter, try to tell u that no sorry u dont know the language/culture so u cant call urself that— i genuinely have no respect for people who act like this

and third of all idk man if someone came to me and said "hi i want to learn more about poland and the culture because i have polish family" (because suurprise!! im polish too!!!!) id be more than happy to tell them everything i know. even if i might not be the best knowledge source AHAJSJDKDK they dont know polish? or anything abt poland?? they just learned their family is polish??? it simply doesnt matter this person wants to learn more about themselves and im more than happy to cheer on them and hope that theyll learn everything they want. and that theyll never feel excluded out of something they deserve to have place in

this got a little long but as u can tell i got very passionate about this topic 😭😭😭 it annoys me so hard how unhuman some people can be

SOO TRUE it's so invalidating ESPECIALLYYYYY when it's always other latino or hispanic people telling me. bro please. i am doing my best here 🙏🙏

i tried for years to learn spanish and it NEVER clicked in my brain. i know basic spanish and basic french (i had to take a foreign language class a few years back so i took french 1) that's it. Please. learning a language takes so much practice and patience and the issue with learning spanish is that my pronounciation will inherently be more "white" because erm. yeahh. english is the only language i've ever spoken fluently. and for some reason, there are many native spanish speakers think it's funny to make fun of mispronounciations? so now i'm scared to practice because of that. 🫶 it's not cute or funny and it's never been in intended an affectionate way. but i am also mentally ill and neurodivergent so that probably doesn't help AJKSFBJSLSHNFM idk man but it is NOT "all in good fun" it's EMBARRASSING!!!!!

IT'S GENUINELY SO FRUSTRATING why should i have to prove my ancestry to you? like. first of all that's really none of your business and second of all i literally do not have to prove anything?!?!?!?! no-one does?!?!?!?! no-one is somehow any less of their heritage simply because they don't know much about it. literally. it is so upsetting why can we not just let people live peacefully fr.

SOOO REALL i need to ask about it again because my maternal family is generally very open about this kind of thing, and it's easy to communicate with them because there is no language barrier between us. i would love to know more about myself. because my culture is something i deserve to have a part in, you know? it's literally in my blood. it is something i always was and always will be, and i feel like i have a right to want to learn about it.

nooo it's okay!!!! i completely get it. i feel like it's becoming very common for people to be less and less human. and it makes sense, given... you know. politics and everything lately. not to be political /lh but there is just a little too much hate being spread and i dislike that so much. many people have forgotten how to be kind and it's just???? very sad and upsetting.

[lettucedloophole]

I'm a bit confused by the not-voting thing? I think it would be really bad if Trump won. Like right-wing rhetoric on racial minorities has been getting worse and worse (e.g. the whole thing with inciting racial hatred through lies of "Haitian migrants eating pets"). It also hasn't been as much of a focus lately but they're obviously still extremely anti-LGBT (e.g. last year Michael Knowles said that "transgenderism" must be completely eradicated). I know this is still focusing on Americans, but we also really shouldn't deceive ourselves into thinking that the USA being ruled by fascists wouldn't have global consequences. I know you said that joining organizations against it is a better solution than voting, but that's much harder to do once the fascists are in power (e.g. in Nazi Germany communists were one of the first groups that the Nazis cracked down on since they were the biggest threat to them).

I hope this doesn't come off as antagonistic because that's not my intention at all. I don't really blame people for not voting Democrat because of the Gaza genocide since it's so horrible (if the genocide causes Trump to win then I fully blame the Democrats for it). But I just genuinely don't understand what the actual benefit is from not voting. If we don't vote, and Harris wins anyways, what was the benefit? If we don't vote and Trump wins, what was the benefit?

these are fair questions. i do want to correct you though and say the U.S. is already ruled by fascists who are commiting genocide and putting immigrants into camps. the 99% hitler comparisons are apt.

my reasons are potentially selfish and maybe misguided? the benefit of not voting and harris wins anyway is i didn't have a part in it, but that doesn't mean much when Living in America Is having a part in it. the benefit that has nothing to do with me is to show democrats genocide is not an acceptable platform and potentially spur them into not doing that, but i don't think that's going to happen either realistically. the most likely benefit is introducing america to an actual left-wing if jill stein or claudia de la cruz get a lot of votes. another benefit is a potential disillusionment from liberals when they see harris continue to fund genocide and fuck over trans people and women, but i don't know to what degree harris is going to do that and if it would change anything.

the benefits and detriments of trump winning are more significant. it's obviously bad in that he'll hurt more marginalized americans. practically though, and this belief is rather accelerationist which i've Heard is bad, i think a trump presidency is more likely to expose america's true colours as a fascist state get moderates off their asses to do something. i don't know how likely that is either, and it would cost more lives, which is why i can't possibly bring myself to fully embrace that and vote for trump either.

this is not directed at you, but i would get pissed off if someone shit their pants at my 'accelerationism'. vote blues tout being strategic and making tough choices for the greater good but it's really just the greater good for americans. i find that so, so maddening, that even in radical spaces the primary consideration is americans.

it really seems like there's no winning here. i feel really lost and i don't think my thought process is perfect either, so i don't mind criticism or a questioning of where i'm coming from. i would love to hear ideas of alternatives but it feels like there are so little choices. what could i do that's meaningful alone?

it does seem like voting blue is the obvious choice if only for americans, though i think a 100% hitler would also be a little bit worse for the world. that's not people's primary concern, though.

i'm frustrated by my powerlessness here. to psychoanalyze myself, maybe i'm just lashing out against people in my life like my parents who ultimately believe the well-being of Our Great Nation is the most important just because we live here, and we can't do anything about how bad it is but we're fine so Vote Blue. i'm actually so sick of it. i feel really hopeless.

i feel like any choice i could make would be selfish. oh you voted harris to improve life for yourself and your fellow americans? oh you voted trump out of some misguided effort to sabotage america? oh you voted stein because you put some idealistic notion over the reality of the situation and the lives of people? i just can't stomach it. talking about it makes me sick, but i guess it's my Civic Duty to vote! so i guess i'll choose... being selfish no. 3!

idk man. i'm just sick of this place

[exospherethoughts]

This isn't about you, but it's something I wish I could talk to you about, and I can't because if I try to then it'll be a wall of text I send you and it will be ignored. Or met with some short "thanks for sharing" type message. Even if you asked to call me, I don't think you want to do emotional vulnerability with me anymore, so the void gets this instead.

I wish my mind could grasp onto solid feelings and thoughts, but catching fleeting ideas or keeping track of a single coherent thought process is much akin to attempting to juggle thirteen wet thin bars of soap whilst rattling off the periodic table of elements in order. To communicate any of those bars of soap in a sensical and terse manner is practically impossible. It's highly frustrating to live inside my head, and when I think too hard about it, I want to tear my hair out. I'm trapped in a mental prison and I have no way of reaching out between the bars to talk about it or even just hold someone's hand. It's as though the version of me in my head is completely separate from that which everyone in the real world perceives, and when I let myself be consciously aware of that disconnect or try to reconcile the two entities, I run into walls, I feel trapped, and I panic. There is no way out.

Yet here I am, desperately trying to communicate it anyways. None of what I just wrote adequately describes what I've been experiencing my entire life (although it's been getting worse and worse lately as I become more aware of it), but I am trying. Maybe one day I'll land on the right combination of words for it. Probably not, but I can try.

I wonder how much of this summer I'll remember. Will it be lost to the depths of my mind like every other summer? Is it really just summers that are bad, or am I just telling myself that because I don't want to admit that every single month of my life ends up fading away so quickly, it's like my life only started two or three weeks ago?

What strange plane of existence is my mind on? Today was objectively good. I spent time with someone I really enjoy being around, they have been *incredibly* generous with their time and knowledge, I was productive today, I went outside, I got to do some crosswords, my smoothie this morning tasted good, I socialized with some fellow grad students, it was an objectively good day. I should be happy. I should feel connected and valued and appreciative and like I matter. But when I was walking home, I felt empty. The version of me that walks around and talks to people and makes facial expressions did all those things today. The version of me that exists in my head was holding her breath all day, for who knows what reason. Despite having felt like I was mentally present all day, it was as though that was a false perception, because once I was alone it was as though I was being set down after being tossed around in a hurricane, I had to catch my breath and felt overwhelmed by the day. But it was a good one. Why do I feel overwhelmed by a good, straightforward day? Why did that only kick in after I was alone and on my way home? Why did I think I was present in reality only to realize at the end of the day that I was as disconnected as ever?

Is it perhaps not that I am really disconnected in the moment, but that External Me is present in reality and Internal Me is not, and when I am alone, External Me goes away (except for the part that goes through the motions of making tea, cooking dinner, and typing on my computer right now), leaving Internal Me to take over the majority of my mind? Is it really just an issue of Internal Me not being the one who is experiencing any of the things I say or do every day, and External Me has no real short or long term memory, so whilst I may be "present" in the sense that I am doing everything I can to experience things in the moment, I do not remember any of those things as if it were really me there? Is that why all the memories I do have feel like stories someone else told me rather than memories of my own experiences?

Is that why, when I think of anything we did together, any time we spent together, my chest feels devoid of any emotion and my mind plays out vague images as though from a film? Is that why I keep finding myself sobbing on my bathroom floor playing music I know used to make me feel love or longing or heartbreak or joy or warmth or safety or forlorn about you, desperately trying to feel any of those emotions again, closing my eyes and imagining myself in those memories, searching for a shred of reality to cling to; but instead finding only grief for the lost parts of those memories? The lost parts... the important parts. The parts that made them *my* memories. The parts that made me feel something rather than remember a description of what I was feeling. The parts that kept your face and voice crystal clear. The parts that made them feel real.

It's funny how this wasn't supposed to be about you, but we ended up here anyways. Sometimes I wonder how I know I love you, the you sitting on the other side of the planet texting me once a day (if I'm lucky), because to my mind you've already turned into some distant character entirely separate from the person who I fell in love with and spent so many dozens of hours talking to.

Then I look at the mug on my desk with so many dried flowers in it, all picked for you. I notice how every time something good, or happy, or painful, or funny, or interesting, or mundane, or anything happens, I want to text you about it. I think about how I do grieve the lost parts of those memories, rather than being indifferent to them. I see how I have to exercise so much self control to wait until next week to ask you to call me (I really want you to ask first). I find myself running down the same paths we used to walk together, letting your ghost haunt me, wishing I could go back and do it all over again, just to hold your hand and hear your laugh and listen to you talk about your day.

I may feel empty, I may not be able to reconcile the you on the other side of my phone screen with the you I knew here and love, but I would be doing myself a disservice to deny how I feel about you. Even if my mind cannot grasp that you are still the same person, even if my mind cannot remember any of what we had as reality, I think my heart knows. It knows and it grieves for my mind because it knows how much my mind is missing out on. It knows how wonderful those memories are in full colour and emotion and reality, and it is in pain because without my mind to remember them for it, it cannot relive them. It cannot miss them properly. It can only grieve.

And so I sit here, ribcage hollowed out, grieving something I know I've lost but cannot fully experience the pain of losing because it does not seem real.

It is a kind of torture I wouldn't wish upon anyone. My entire life is going by and none of it has felt real. Not you, not any of the time I've spent with friends, not any of the time I've spent with my parents, not any of the trips I've gone on, not any of the things I've learned, not any of the music I've played, not any of the places I've seen, not any of the things I've said or done. I don't even really know who I am, I don't know how others perceive me, I look in the mirror and see a stranger staring back. I see a body but I do not comprehend that I am inside that body. I know when I speak my voice comes out but if I listen to it, it does not sound like me. I know I interact with people but those interactions are like watching two other people interact, neither of them seems like me. I don't know who I am and none of my life has felt real. At least when you were here, I had moments of feeling real in the moment, I had moments of feeling loved and safe and I felt like I could be completely myself with you. It was the closest I've gotten to feeling like Internal Me was the one existing in reality in a very long time. But apparently it wasn't close enough, because you are now another lost part of my memories.

The worst part of it all? Despite sitting here, typing away, trying my best to line up my thoughts in a row, grabbing at any ephemeral emotion I can, it still doesn't come anywhere close to properly conveying what I'm experiencing.

It's one thing to suffer. It's another to suffer knowing you cannot make anyone else understand your suffering.

[astrowonder98]

Turning 25, and about time for a quarter-life crisis.

What a mess social media has found itself in. Facebook and Twitter are either seen as a joke or in disrepair, Places like DeviantART want to experiment with AI art and it has hindered the site, and no one is in a prime position to take over and be the new place we can all hang out. The internet is going though a major painful metamorphosis and I am not sure how to feel about it... cause who the heck knows the result? Not me!

It's probably a fitting time as ever. This month will mark the big 25 (specifically July 7th, give Ringo Starr my birthday cheer, too.) and I have been doing a lot of thinking in my life about what I want to do and how I can do it while still being able to survive. And the honest to goodness fact is that I haven't come up with any answers, at least not any good answers that I can work with.

I'm going to try and make my thoughts on what is going on with me as simple as possible.

I've worked in the same dead end part-time job for the past two years. It's above minimum wage, sure, but it's not a living wage either. It's also a highly physical job. Most of the time I'm in the parking lot outside. In the burning sun. Lifting heavy objects and pushing carts. Despite it being part-time, I feel wiped out after the fact and not want to do anything else. This has frustrated people who wonder why this can possibly happen (my workplace and a couple of my close family.) The only reason I am still here at this point is because I need the healthcare.

In spite of a degree in Computer Science, virtually every application sent with using it in mind has never been acted upon, not even getting to the interview phase. Just rejected. What's ironic is that applications sent to other retail places have gotten quick responses back. People look at my resume with my degree and see more readily a sales representative than a software developer and it doesn't make me feel great...

All of this culminates in coming back home without feeling a thing. Completely emotionless. I'm in therapy for this, but it's been a slow progress to get to this point. And unless I do something drastic I might be stuck in a loop for a while longer, which stinks.

It was a mistake thinking that making art and creating stuff for people to enjoy would do anything to change that and hoping, somehow, it could turn into an actual career. I really held out hope in this avenue but have now reached a conclusion that it will just be nothing more than a hobby I do on the side. The fact that any original material (Always Lagging Behind, Rocket Board, and other original character art) I've created has gotten less attention and praise than fanart does not help in me reaching this conclusion (especially with my involvement in Pokemon Mystery Dungeons and Dragons: Dark Heroes.)

By extension, I accidentally made things I like to do for fun or should be relaxing as work I must do, and that's just not good for my mind, let alone anyone's mind. It's probably why I don't feel happy when trying to relax and try to enjoy things, but it also might be more complicated than that...

All of this has made me reach this conclusion: I need to make a change immediately. There are a number of things I'll be doing, but here are three things that are relevant to the internet world specifically:

Howie's Convenience - Clean Up After Yourself! will continue as I planned before making this... post? monologue? snapping point? I'll let you pick. I will pick the voices for the characters in late July, record with the cast, and then animate the thing whenever I get a chance to do so when I'm not doing whatever I can do get myself out of this hole I dug.

I'm now only going to use social media to post things I want to post. That's it. No looking at what everyone else is doing and liking and sharing.

Twitter and YouTube are now considered cold turkeys. YouTube will only be used for when I'm uploading something to the site. My Twitter accounts will just not be used altogether and will be closed July 31st.

I know those of you who care about what I do might find it very sudden. It honestly is. I have a bad habit of putting things off on most days and then somehow finding the will in me to actually make a drastic step to change my life. With how I worded some of this stuff, you might come to the conclusion that I hate my audience or other people for just liking what they do and they don't match up with what I want them to like. I do not. I hate myself for even wanting to humor that notion. It's not my fault people just have different tastes and likes. It just means I should just keep drawing what I like in that moment and be proud of what I make.

I'll keep posting here on Tumblr to keep you updated on that Howie's Convenience project I've only just now told you about on this site (another bad habit) but for the most part, consider this post as me acknowledging the mistakes I've made and doing what I can to get out of it.

I'll be seeing you around.

Erin Strouder (HeyStrouder/AstroWonder98)

[justana0kguy]

2023 JUNE 12 (PH Independence) Monday

GAMON 1'23 #3 ~ Patience, my love

Quarrels of late with the people I love have once again brought up long kept issues I've had with circumstances in the past, to which I've tried (and failed) many times to be more patient than I would like. More often than not, I'd find myself losing patience especially when the crux of the problem is one that we had encountered before and had supposedly addressed, or worse, didn't even bother to.

I am the type of person who fully commits to a person when I love them, and not just during moments when the feelings are at their happiest or the circumstances are at their easiest, but also through the times when it's not because I understand that it's not always going to be that way and that doesn't change how I feel for that person. Which is why a big part of the way I think and the way I love is influenced by looking towards the future that I am fighting for.

Many times that involves looking at the root cause of common (recurring) issues in the relationship, be it from incidental misunderstandings or personal differences, and giving the time and effort required to fix or mitigate these core problems so that we can better handle similar situations in the future. But I've found that most people (even the ones I love) do not give the same importance or see the same benefits and it leaves me frustrated many times, especially when the problem rears its ugly but familiar face time and time again.

And the worst part is when they can't seem to recognize similar patterns in problems nor understand the reason why I get frustrated, even when we may have already spoken or resolved these issues in the past. Granting that having done that doesn't mean that it won't happen again, but causing it to happen and to not even be aware that this is something we've been over with tells me that they either don't care or weren't really listening or paying attention anyway.

But now the question becomes, if we really love a person, and if our love is inspired by the one true love that God has shown and demonstrated for us, and follows the very first line as defined by Paul in the famous part of his letter to the Corinthians: "Love is Patient..." ~1 Corinthians 13:4, shouldn't we be always patient enough to still not be frustrated at that person no matter how much they don't care or how many times they don't listen?

And that in the end is what I want to challenge myself with starting today, which I have to practice and commit to each and every day. To exercise the kind of patience that is rooted in love, empowered by love, for the sake of love, and only in love; not with any other motivation such as hoping (or guilt-tripping them so) that they will eventually change or correct their ways.

I want to be patient because of my love for that person, which should include an acceptance of who they are as a whole, regardless of what they do (or fail to) because what I failed to mention so far but I accept as a fact is that I too am only human and have more than my share of shortcomings towards the ones I love. I too, intentionally or not, have made them feel like I'm not listening or just don't care.

In the same way that God loved all of us and continues to be patient with us even if we are unworthy, so should my patience not be counted as a benefit to give only to those who I think are deserving according to my standards, but share it completely and wholeheartedly as a kindness to the people I love because that is how love and patience should be according to God's standards.

And so I call myself to the higher standard of being more patient with the ones I love, knowing that I am equally imperfect and problematic, and yet still receives the grace of true love and patience from God. I know it's not going to be easy (hard headed as I am) but I'm going to give it my best day by day, moment by moment, clear and confident in my intent that it's not for me but for God and for the ones I love. And if I fail, I'll try and be more patient with myself too.

[thezolblade]

When do you think Found Wanting's Jon realized he had feelings for Martin?

Hm, my original thought was that it was right after Martin confessed aloud to having feelings for him, when he had to decide what to do about that as an immediate and realistic option, and realized he didn't really want to shut this down.

While I've been writing out more of Jon's pov, it's shifted a bit. So it's more like he realised he felt something he couldn't dismiss as nonexistent around the time Martin fell asleep, then tried to dismiss it as his mind misfiring under stress instead, and told himself that he could get over it quickly, with his denial getting more desperate and less convincing. Then when he got a confession out of Martin, he decided he could act on it and dropped the denial completely.

I could pin the details to one route or another, to make it so that Jon's side of things was option A in one timeline and option B in another. Haven't fully decided.

Here's a few paragraphs of Jon's internal crisis beneath the cut, if you feel like reading what I've got at this point. Brief nsfw text. Hopefully it reads like a version of Jon that's on the verge of falling apart and making it Martin's problem.

He didn't really want Martin that way, outside of a few bizarre fantasies, completely divorced from reality. There was no genuine appeal to the thought of bringing him home and putting him in his place, bending him over the edge of the bed and shoving his face into the blankets to muffle his moans as he took out all his frustrations from these last few months, striking him until his ass glowed, fingering him open and fucking him until he screamed... 

No, no, he couldn't want that. He couldn't. Martin wasn't interested. He'd never shown any sign of interest. Jon couldn't proposition him out of nowhere. And he wouldn't force the matter, as if his feelings were any justification for assaulting someone completely disinterested. He wasn't capable of overpowering him anyway. Martin was broad and strong, and he wouldn't listen, he never really listened, even when they were talking about things that were perfectly professional and reasonable, Martin would smile and nod as if he understood, as if he cared, but then he never followed through, he never really had his back... It was never going to happen. 

It had been years since he'd last felt this way. Last time, he'd had no choice but to give up, and he'd sworn that the next time would be different. He wouldn't go his whole life without getting to be with anyone he truly wanted. 

Why had his libido woken up now? What was so special about Martin, of all people? He would never like him back after the way he'd treated him. He'd ruined this before it had even begun. 

No, no, he couldn't really be falling for him. This was just a matter of all the recent stress getting to him, messing with his head with all the intensity of a fever dream. He was finally ready to move on from Georgie, and he wasn't getting out enough to meet anyone appropriate, so his mind had latched onto an overfamiliar face. Surely he could get past this quickly, without waiting the better part of another decade for the feelings to fade. He just needed to set aside some evenings for himself, and get back into the dating scene, without giving up this time. He had to make small talk with strangers again and again, until he could convince himself to feel something for one of them. Wasn't fucking the same person enough times supposed to generate feelings? It had never worked before, but he could find someone willing, and try again, and maybe they wouldn't notice that he was thinking about someone else... 

What if he took Tim up on an offer to go out for drinks, and asked him to arrange a date with a friend of a friend? Back in Research, he'd been more than willing to play matchmaker, and Jon had always replied 'maybe another time', trying to humour him even though he wasn't in the mood. Those offers had dried up lately, but only because he'd been too busy to go out after work. They were still friends, weren't they? He could kick start his social life, with a friend like Tim on his side. He'd find someone better than Martin, someone he could respect and rely on.

Martin could carry on sleeping here, of course, until it was safe for him to go home. Would he want to come along for drinks, if the whole team went out together? There was safety in numbers, after all. Would Martin be uncomfortable, seeing him pick up someone else? No, why would he be? There was no reason for Martin to feel jealous, unless he felt something, and he'd been keeping quiet about it for obvious reasons... Oh fuck, if he thought Jon was taken, then he'd keep his mouth shut forever, wouldn't he? Maybe they should talk first, just in case. No, no, what was he thinking? He couldn't proposition an employee who'd never shown any interest. Could he win him over gradually, if he didn't rush into anything else? No, no, no, he couldn't afford to stew in these feelings. He'd be miserable for years unless he shook off this crush before it settled into his bones.

He picked up his phone in search of a distraction. Maybe he could ask Tim and Sasha how their field work had gone. Ah, no, it had gotten too late to text them. He'd have to wait until they were back in the office tomorrow.

If he couldn't focus on work, and he couldn't talk to anyone, then he ought to call it a night. Sleep, and maybe the world would be a kinder place in the morning.

[Then he falls into his statement nightmares, and has to watch Beholding torture Naomi and Melanie for a while. Then he wakes up thoroughly on edge, picks an argument with Martin, and jumps on his confession as a chance to pursue what he wants after all. ]

[haleigh-sloth]

I always say this if people don’t like Deku ok but why go to you there other blogs that don’t like him like no offense but we are in the end game we can’t change last year either make peace or move on and we as shiggy and Deku fans are looking forward to this interaction like I enjoy the chapter a lot just like I’m going to enjoy the anime I’m sorry one feel disappointment but That a personal problem we don’t all feel that way

I think that's what frustrates me the most

I HAVE expressed disappointment before. I HAVE explained where my reserves are about his writing.

This isn't a Deku-stan blog. I love him, I love his character and he's my broccoli son.

That doesn't mean I think he's flawlessly handled. I only think that way about one character, and that's Shigaraki lolol

You can look at my blog and within 5 minutes see what it is about his character, and this manga in general, that I care about and enjoy.

Also, this late in the game I am picking my battles.

Do I think the manga could have hammered in the idea that Midoriya has reflected on how and why some people end up as villains a littttle bit harder? Do I think Lady N's whole spiel could have lingered a bit more and had more after effect? Yeah, I do. But like, complaining about it over and over and over again is not going to make changes to what has already been done.

And the manga isn't over! Some things are just too early to call, yeah? The most interesting and challenging part of Midoriya's arc is JUST NOW starting to kick off. We haven't even REALLY dived into it yet. There is a whole lot to unpack here!

There are repetitive complaints (that get sent to me for some reason) but then there are also unfair complaints, that imo are valid but don't apply to Midoriya--they apply to everyone on the hero side.

Is Midoriya naive? I mean maybe?? We haven't seen inside his head in a while (which I suspect is intentional!), but that criticism doesn't apply to just him. I mean look at Shouto. As much as people try to claim that Shouto is the perfect angel who puts everything into perspective, they refuse to acknowledge how Shouto and Touya are literally shouting completely different things back and forth at each other.

Touya: "Society outcasts and scapegoats people who don't fit their mold or can't keep up!"

Shouto: "Stop involving people in our family drama!"

???? Don't get me wrong, this isn't something I dwell on because I love the way the Todofam stuff is being handled so far, but this IS the reality of the situation with the Todobros. Shouto doesn't reflect outside of his family. It's fine. I'm personally fine with his and his brother's arcs primarily revolving around their family, really. But if people are going to nitpick and say Midoriya is naive, then lets play fair and apply those standards to everyone shall we?

So yeah maybe people can understand why I'm annoyed with the repetitive, old news Deku criticism. We been knew. These flaws aren't new. I've accepted them and am focusing on the parts of his arc that I greatly enjoy. Idc if people dislike it but keep it away from me. Fuck.

[itsdanii]

Hey, bubs! How's everyone doing? I've been inactive lately because of health issues so yeah... here's Omi with a sick reader 👀 Anyway, hope you all have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! ♥️

That's what you get

genre: fluff, soft and teasing omi coming through!

warning/s: mentions of being sick, suggestive, kinda self indulgent

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason.

ft. timeskip!sakusa kiyoomi, f!reader

Nothing to see here - just Omi taking care of his sick girlfriend and punishing her for not taking care of herself.

Kiyoomi stared at your sleeping figure. A cold towel was resting on your forehead, allowing it to give you some sense of relief from your fever as you sleep. Your face was nuzzled on his side, one arm clinging to his waist like a child cuddling their favorite toy.

Tucking the stray hair behind your ear, Kiyoomi sighed at the feeling of your heated skin. You've been overworking yourself these past few weeks and no matter how much he reminded you to take some rest, you only ignored him.

And now, here you were, sick and under his care with your remaining works set aside.

"Omi.."

Kiyoomi hummed upon hearing your voice, his finger tracing your cheek as he stared at you with utmost gentleness. "Are you still mad?" he asked.

With a shake of your head, you muttered a small, "No." As you tried to sit up, Kiyoomi placed a hand on your back to support you while his other hand positioned some pillows on the headboard for you to rest on.

"Hungry?" Kiyoomi asked while tying your hair back messily with the scrunchie he had on his wrist. "I'll get you some food so-"

"I'm sorry," you cut him off. Taking his hand in yours, you started to play with his fingers, occasionally drawing circles on his palm as you gathered the courage of speaking up without your lips trembling. "I should've listened to you when you told me to take a rest."

"I won't tell you it's fine nor to forget it because you really should've listened to me." Cupping your cheeks, Kiyoomi angled your face towards him and rested his forehead against yours, the tips of your nose touching and your lips almost ghosting each other. "But I'm not going to lecture you either because I know that you've learned your lesson. So, what I'm going to do is make you some food and take care of you until you get better. Will you allow me that?"

You could only nod and close your eyes as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I love you," he whispered before standing up and leaving the room.

You stared at the now closed door with nothing but love in your eyes. You knew Kiyoomi wasn't the type to always say those three words to you. Instead, he preferred showing his love through his actions. However, that didn't mean that hearing him say it didn't make your heart flutter.

Taking your gaze away from the door, you looked at your laptop that was currently shut off. Stacks of papers were littered on your desk, different colored markers thrown here and there, and three empty mugs of coffee were placed on the side.

Earlier, you and Kiyoomi had gotten into a fight. You knew that he was only looking out for you when he was urging you to rest but his constant reminders only added pressure to the stress you were already feeling. Thus, instead of thanking him, you ended up snapping at him which eventually led to your fight.

You were lucky that Kiyoomi was patient when it came towards you. The moment your knees wobbled, he was already by yourside and assisting you to lie down, and though you knew how much he hated being around sick people, he didn't hesitate on taking care of you. Heck, he didn't even put on his mask when he was frantically moving around the room.

Your small moment was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking. Turning your attention to Kiyoomi, you smiled gratefully at the tray he was carrying which no doubt contained some porridge and chamomile tea.

He sat down beside you, but instead of giving you the tray, he placed it on his lap and stirred the porridge slightly. "I'll feed you," he simply said before raising the spoon.

"But I can feed myself, Omi," you said while trying to take the spoon from him and only stopping when a frown suddenly made its way to his face.

"I just witnessed how bad my girlfriend was when it came to taking care of herself that's why I'm doing it for her. Now, open your mouth and let me feed you unless you want me to kiss you until you run out of breath and beg me to stop."

Your cheeks immediately flared up at what he said. Instantly, you parted your lips, allowing him to feed you as he pleased. Once you were finished eating and taking some medicine, Kiyoomi set the tray aside.

"Just so you know, I wasn't completely opposed to your suggestion," you muttered as you laid down.

Kiyoomi was quick to glance down at you. "Mhm, really?" he asked with a raised brow before leaning down.

With his both arms placed beside your head and his face now just a few inches away from yours, you pressed a hand on his chest to give him a light push. "Omi..."

"Hm?" he hummed in a teasing manner while peppering your face with kisses and purposely avoiding your lips. "Thought you wanted me to kiss you?"

Your breath hitched when his lips traveled from your jawline down to the side of your neck, goosebumps appearing on your skin when he focused on a particular spot. "Kiss me," you whispered before giving his back a small tap.

"I am kissing you."

Hearing you whine, Kiyoomi chuckled and lifted his head. He then looked down at your lips before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. "Here?"

"Mhmm," you answered with a small nod. Your eyes instinctively closed when he leaned down. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you played with the tips of his hair as you waited for your kiss.

But instead of feeling his lips against yours, you were met with the feeling of his finger booping your nose.

You opened your eyes in confusion and came face to face with your boyfriend who now had a smirk playing on his lips.

"Maybe next time when you're no longer sick," he simply said before leaning away, chuckling at the dumbfounded expression on your face.

"But Omi-"

"That's what you get for not putting your health first."

With that, Kiyoomi walked out of the room with the tray in hand and a satisfied smile, leaving a sick, frustrated girlfriend behind.

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