#I'M UNWELL ABOUT THIS OLD MEN

[misteria247]

Me gets off work: Finally I can relax-

Gravity Falls rping community on my dashboard: *Throws angsty Fiddlestan at me*

Me immediately fighting tears: Hahahahahahaha-

[blacktofade]

Feb 7 — Made to watch

Buckcest (Matt Jackson/Nick Jackson)

CW: incest, voyeurism, nsfw

Nick’s brought a woman back to their room. Someone who’s tipsy enough that she barely puts up a fight when she sees Matt in the other bed.

“He sleeps through everything,” Nick tells her, not even lowering his voice. “Watch this.”

Matt’s suddenly hit with something that might be Nick’s shirt, though Matt knows better than to flinch, just breathes, slow and even.

“Hey!” Nick calls out and then laughs. “See? He sleeps like the dead.”

Matt knows how this goes. Knows to keep his eyes closed. Knows the familiar sound of clothes hitting the floor and creaking of the bed next to his.

And he knows that he can finally sneak a peek when Nick sighs out, “Yeah? Is that good?”

The only light in the room is the lamp beside Nick’s bed, but it’s just enough for Matt to see what he wants, what Nick wants him to see.

The woman’s spread out across the bed, flat on her back and facing away from Matt, but Nick’s between her legs, arms curled around her thighs as he eats her out.

The noise of it sounds loud in the quiet room, and the woman keeps letting out cut-off gasps, like she’s still trying to stay quiet but can’t quite stop herself.

Nick stares at Matt over the cut of her hip, eyes bright and focused, but not focused on her.

“You like that?” Nick asks, and Matt can see the way she nods her head wordlessly, but Nick looks past her, cocking an eyebrow and waiting as though he doesn’t care about her response.

Matt nods, a quick up-down, and Nick — seeming satisfied — dips his head back between her legs and the noises start again.

This is what they do. This messed up kind of liaison that they can’t even call an accident because they’ve been doing it for almost a year. This thing that exists because Matt refuses to cross the line he’s drawn in the sand. The line that says he can’t touch Nick, not like this. Matt’s the older brother, he’s the example setter, but he’s tangled in a web of his own hang-ups as Nick pushes at his boundaries every day, just to see if he’ll crack.

But sometimes they compromise, because Matt can’t touch, but he can watch. And Nick gives him plenty to watch.

One of Nick’s hands disappears between the woman’s thighs, most likely slipping a couple of fingers into her instead, because she inhales loudly, breasts rising with her chest.

She’s pretty, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be touching Nick.

Nick moans, body shifting like he’s grinding against the mattress below, too eager. When he next catches Matt’s gaze, his face is flushed, mouth wet and reddened.

Matt’s hard, but can’t do anything about it. He can’t even let his breathing skip, has to keep it deep and steady, as though he’s still asleep, but he’s anything but.

“You want me inside you?” Nick asks, murmuring the words against her skin, but he’s still watching Matt.

Matt nods, can’t stop himself, and Nick’s eyes are so dark, his expression so serious, like it’s all he wants, that it dries out Matt’s mouth.

“Yeah,” the woman breathes. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Nick kisses the inside of her thigh and then slips away, disappearing into the bathroom for just a moment, before returning with a condom in his hand.

She plays with herself while Nick slips the condom on and his eyes briefly dip down to watch. Matt wonders what he’s thinking, but it doesn’t matter because then Nick’s crawling over her, pushing inside without any fuss, never once looking away from Matt.

The woman curls her legs around Nick’s waist, her moans escaping rhythmically as Nick starts to move, and Matt has never wished to be anyone other than himself, but right then he’d give anything to be in her position.

“Is that good?” Nick asks, still watching Matt.

“Yeah, fuck, just like that,” the woman begs and Nick gives it to her exactly so.

“You feel how deep I am?”

Matt bites his tongue and can feel sweat building across the back of his neck.

“Yeah, baby,” she moans. “Feels so good.”

Matt is the only one keeping himself from Nick, but he can’t give in. He can’t cross that final line. He can’t.

“You want this?” Nick asks and Matt nods, so hard in his briefs that it hurts, but he can’t do anything except watch.

The woman clutches at him, moans turning higher, like she’s close to the edge, and Matt is so envious it makes his stomach hurt.

Nick is his and his alone. But there’s nothing he can do.

“Yeah,” she sighs, reaching between them, probably to rub at her clit, because then she’s shaking under Nick, sighing out a moan like Nick just feels so good. 

Matt knows he has to. Nick is nothing but good. Nothing but satisfying.

“Gonna come,” Nick grunts, expression crumpling, but he holds Matt’s gaze as he grinds forward and finds completion.

The front of Matt’s underwear is soaked with precome and his erection almost hurts now. He’s counting down the minutes before he can sneak to the bathroom and take care of it, but for now he has to watch Nick panting, thrusts slowing and eventually stopping.

The woman rubs at Nick’s arm as he pulls out and Matt stares at where Nick’s wet and still hard, not yet soft.

Carefully, Nick pulls the condom off and gives himself a stroke, and it’s clearly just for Matt, who finally cracks and snuffles against his pillow.

“Shit,” the woman whispers and Matt catches himself right as she turns her head, shutting his eyes and pretending to sleep again. “I should leave.”

“You could stay,” Nick tells her, an empty invitation and it’s clear they both know it.

“It’s been fun,” she says, “but I’ll go before he wakes.”

It’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of the bed shifting, of them picking up clothes and dressing again. But eventually, the door opens and closes and Matt knows they’re alone again.

He opens his eyes and finds Nick standing by the end of his own bed. He doesn’t say anything and Matt returns the favor, not saying anything as he slips out of bed, walking with a slight hunch with how painful his dick is now.

Nick reaches out, catching his arm when he’s close enough and Matt’s whole body tenses.

“Did you enjoy that?” Nick asks, staring down at him, but Matt doesn’t rise to the bait.

He doesn’t say a word and doesn’t try to pull away, remaining neutral, not wanting to set Nick off. Mostly to keep himself from breaking down and giving in if Nick starts begging.

Nick must see something in his expression, because he sighs and lets go of Matt’s arm.

“I’m gonna go sleep,” Nick tells him, stepping around Matt to start tugging the sheets down his bed and Matt hesitates for a moment.

Neither of them are getting what they want and he thinks it’s rather fitting. Perhaps it’s what they deserve.

He heads toward the bathroom without looking back.

[hellonoblesky]

I'll lay on the floor with you and be weird

Grabs you. Let's go <- full of unwell thoughts about zskk

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Who reblogged all that

[radio-fmm]

One piece men react to your new haircut

ft. Law, Zoro and Sanji

fluff + gn reader with long hair

Masterlist

LAW

“Y/n-ya” Laws muffled voice ringed in your ears from outside your dorm, a tad softer tone coloring his words than he would usually use, a tone that always accompanied your name after it

He was met with silence

You had skipped breakfast, first red flag, and when you didn’t showed up for the monthly meeting at his office he knew something was up, he just didn’t know exactly what could be

“Go away” the doctors eyebrows curled in confusion, you sounded upset 

“Can you open the door please?”

“No”

Laws mind ran wild trying to think of a reason for your behavior changing one day to another, hiding away in your dorm

“Shambles”

The tall man appears in front of your door as he finds you underneath your bedsheets curled in a ball. Obviously what his mind zeroed in to immediately was that you may be feeling unwell, but as the tiniest softest sob left your mouth he realized it was a different kind of unwell he had not anticipated 

Feeling extremely unprepared, he sits at the end of your bed, immediately making you squirm and hide further in your bed

“Don’t look at me, I'm horrendous!” The captain cannot stop the snickers that scapes his mouth at your statement 

“Don’t be ridiculous” In a swift move Law removes the sheets, revealing your face hiding behind your hands

He noticed right away what you were referring to as apparently ‘horrendous’. Your locks were cut short too way above your shoulders, at the height of the frame of your face. He admires the new style, a smile tugging at his lips before he removes your hands from your regretful face, your eyes scan his expression in total terror

“I thought I could do it myself” a whisper could be heard louder than the words leaving you as you melt at Laws sweet touch “I look so bad”

Law runs his finger through your soft short strands before stroking your cheek “You look just fine y/n-ya… it quite suits you” 

Your face turns from his grasp but your Captain is quick to catch you “You’re gorgeous any day, any time, with long or short hair” Doe eyes met his as if you were relieved at his praise

“Promise?”

“Promise”

Your short hair was quick to become Laws favorite look on you

ZORO

“Don’t move” Zoro's tongue peeks at the side of his lips as he finds the perfect angle to cut your soft long strands of hair

“If you cut me in half…”

“Quit complaining I haven’t even started” He watches as your hands show him what length to cut for the third time, the swordsman takes a deep breath. A swift move from his strong arms followed by the sound of a cut near your ears is the last thing that fills your senses before a weight is lifted from your shoulders. Your eyes peek at the floor, a sea of your now old hair beneath you

“Perfect” you hear Zoro mutter, you run your hand through your hair, a grimace appearing on your face

"It's not straight” you sigh, defeated 

“What are you talking about?” Zoro appears in your field of vision and scans the way your hair sits at the sides of your frame, before you can even complain about it, another cut is heard disrupting the peace of The Sunny. 

Instantly you run to the bathroom mirror, it’s not perfect per se´, but he got the exact length you wanted to. You were a short hair kind of a person your whole life, but when you had started to sail through the sea, embarking alongside the future king of the pirates, it was hard to keep up a neat cut like the one you liked, so you resorted to a more easy way out. Another sigh escapes you, a different one this time, this one is a content one. You smile as you pose before the mirror, which reflects another figure outside the bathroom watching you intently

“Thank you Zoro” you offer him the softest and most thankful smile through your reflection, the swordsman shrugs, trying not to make a big deal out of it, truth was he was more than glad to help you, in anything you may need, it made him feel important. His eyes take on the new view of your appearance once more, his heart thrumbing in his ears and a blush sitting on his cheeks, he didn't know how you managed to look even more breathtaking 

“No problem” 

You wink at him at you may have broke him, the swordsman stays frozen in place as you run to show Nami and Robin your new look 

SANJI

The cook stays in a trance as he watches you braid your long beautiful locks in a fish braid before bed, as you tie it you watch your reflection for a while, a hesitant look appearing making your nose scrunch, the antic making his heart jump in his chest. Sanji bites his tongue, wanting to comment on this action, curious as to what could possibly be bothering you, because last time he checked, your reflection was nothing to frown about. 

"What's wrong, my love?" He asks ever so gently, you stay silent before walking to your shared bed, sighing as you lay beside him

“I want to cut my hair, it’s really hard work keeping it off my face, and it takes ages to wash and style” another frown sits on your lips as your eyes advert from his face

The reality was that you were planning on cutting your hair for a while now, but the thought of Sanji disliking your new look haunted you, but you were not gonna admit that to him

One of his delicate hands reach for your braid, then travel upwards to cup your face, he smiles in pure adoration pulling at your heart strings in the most intimate melody

“I know whatever you do to your hair is gonna look smashing” a dark red creeps from your neck and warms up your face at the blonde’s touch

After Sanji’s sweet reassurance, you missed no time and that morning reached for the scissors in your drawer and just went for it. As half your braid fell to the floor you felt the biggest weight being lift from your shoulders, your locks dancing free with the ocean’s breeze

The cook walked outside the kitchen in the middle of his breakfast prep for a smoke, but his cigarette hit the floor the instant he spotted you leaning on the railing of The Sunny, he was left stunted, heart eyes following your beautiful silhouette as he rushed your way

“Stunning” his hands immediately landing on your strands, brushing them slowly and lovingly

“You were right” you smiled at him content written all over your face

“Of course I was darling, I know an angel when I see one”

Luffy’s whines of annoyance could be heard all over the ship when he found his plate empty in the kitchen and Sanji nowhere to be found, he just had to stay to admire you all morning, it was a must 

[landograndprix]

Save your tears ❁ l.n 

summary: Daniel's girlfriend isn't exactly Daniel's girlfriend.

requested: yes! 

a/n: first ever social au so bear with me & let me know what you think! Requests are open ♡

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername 

Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 10,532 others

y/nusername summer breaking ☀

Tagged: @/landonorris

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bott_assv that's not Daniel 💀 

chilisainz it sure isn't…

dannyricric not everyone thinking Daniel and y/n were a couple 😂 

zhoueey couple of besties! 

dannyricric exactly!! 

landonorris ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo I'm unwell babes 

y/nusername me too babes, sorry you had to find out the hard way 

ki_ki_ay 💀 💀 these 2..

norrisfour talk about hard launching a relationship!!!

y/nusername posted on their story

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by scottyjames31, redbullracing and 9,212 others

y/nusername the only men to ever matter

tagged: @/danielricciardo, @/scottyjames31

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daniel3ric y/n out here feeding us Daniel and Scotty content like the queen she is

scottyjames31 don't tell Chloe we were together

y/nusername I'd never

landonorris thanks for the invite

danielricciardo no problem mate, thanks for giving her back

landonorris sharing is caring

F1girliee I am so confused who is she even dating? Who is scotty? 😭

leclerccharles dating lando, best friend danny & scotty who is a well known snowboarder 😉

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y/nusername posted on their story

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landonorris posted on their story

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, y/nusername and 239,876 others

landonorris down under ft. prettiest girl on the block ❤️

tagged: @y/nusername

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y/nusername ❤️❤️

tifosired mom & dad 🥰

heidiberger_ cuties 🥰

grussel63 lando back in australia to annoy his old teammate

norstappen_ waiting patiently for the content we've been waiting for 😭

danielricciardo one word: disgusting.

landonorris save the tears mate, you've lost

sharl16 living for all of this 👀

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y/nusername posted on their story

[coralinnii]

Hello! If u dont remember me I'm the person that requested the villainess au Trey x reader from a long time ago, just wanna drop in and say I really look forward to your works and hope you have a great day/night/time! Sorry for bothering you if this message ends up being a bother

‧₊˚✧ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

feat: Trey

genre: slow burn, coworkers-to-something more

note: no pronouns were used for reader, reader is implied to be old enough to work, mentions of poisoning and assassination attempts, reader is somewhat emotionally constipated.

extra note: While Trey is not quite in-character as I would like, he is supposed to be younger than his canon version, so I wanted him to be more unsure and inexperienced than his future self.

I did it, I finally got this done. Praise me (don't)

Being Reincarnated as the Bad Guy aka Villain/ess AU masterlist

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense. No, you seriously don’t.

One minute you were finally getting off a particularly bad shift at work, only to be in this strange world you don’t recognize…as a low-ranking servant to the bloody royal family!

The rules, the standards, the pretentious nobles you have to smile in fear of having your neck sliced…where’s OSHA when you need them?

At least your coworkers were decent and you’re not in charge of anything too major like waiting on the Queen or her son, unlike that young aide-in-training you see running up and down the palace…poor Sir Clover.

Not your problem, though

…Until a couple of greedy noblemen forced a vial of poison into your hands, promising you a grand reward of money and status for your compliance. They wanted you to spike the drink of the crown prince’s closest aide-in-training so they could plant their own men by his side.

With your best service smile on, you handed back the vial back.

“No ❤️”

When they try to threaten you, you kindly remind them that if they plan to drag you in the mud, you’re not above pulling them along with you.

“If I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone with me.”

Once that was over, you wanted to cleanse yourself from this ugly conspiracy. You were way too busy worrying about your own neck, and you assumed that Sir Clover was cautious over his own safety that you, a mere worker bee, have nothing to contribute.

However, you do notice that the young green-haired man seems to prioritize others over himself, and the lights to his room are often still lit until late into the night. An honest young man burdened with responsibilities; his defenses may not always be on guard…

Ugghh, what a pain in the-

“Um, excuse me?” You looked to the tall nobleman trying to capture your attention.

“Yes, Sir Clover?”

“Were you originally scheduled to work today?”

You held your urge to click your tongue. Of course, Trey would be aware of at least who was scheduled to wait on Prince Riddle and him. What an annoyingly conscientious man.

“My colleague was feeling unwell so I offered to take her place for today. I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” You bowed politely which made the bespectacled man a little flustered.

“No, I’m grateful she could take a rest. Thank you for taking up the role but please let us know next time so we can offer some medical help if needed.”

That wouldn’t be necessary, you thought as you nodded regardless. Your coworker wasn’t really sick in any way but she was more than happy to switch schedules with you.

Many of the servants are under the impression that you harbored a crush on the admittedly cute aide-in-training since you were caught glancing at his direction more often than usual. It wouldn't be surprising if your “crush” in question is also aware of the gossip, which leads to his tenseness around you. Be it kindness or hesitance, Sir Clover chose not to reprimand you for doing as you please.

“What a pain, but I guess it works in my favor anyway.”

A knock rang through the room and with Riddle’s permission, an anxious maid came in with a tray carrying a tea set, confusing everyone in the room.

It’s not time for afternoon tea yet.

“What is the meaning of this?” For someone so young, Riddle’s sharp tone ran a deadly chill down everyone’s back. “Afternoon tea is not for another 13 minutes.”

The maid stuttered in fear, the tea set clattering slightly in her hands. “T-The servants thought that His Highness and Sir C-Clover have been working tirelessly today and perhaps some tea could help.”

You had too much of a survival instinct to dare look at the prince but the silence and building heat in the air was evidence enough that the thought was not appreciative.

Trey was quick to clear the tension with an awkward cough and a smile. “Thank you, I could use some.”

At his words, you dutifully proceeded to reach for the set when the maid hastily pulled it away from you.

Strange

“I-I can do it. Please excuse me” Without sparing a glance towards you, the maid quickly set the tray down on a nearby table and worked to pour a cup.

You’ve seen this maid only a few times. She was a new addition to the roster, too new to approach the royal family but here she was. She hadn't even learned how to properly hold the pot which was noticeable to everyone but was ignored (at the behest of Trey’s wordless plea) due to assumed inexperience.

“She’s so nervous but here she is, so adamant about serving some damn tea…”

A suffocating feeling rising in your throat, you watched with trepidation as the maid walked towards Trey while holding the teacup almost too preciously.

“Eek!” The maid shrieked when your hand squeezed her wrist in an unforgiving grip. She turned to question you but your glare kept her silent.

Trey looked at you with confusion, but your attention kept on the shaking maid and the teacup. With your other hand, you reach for your silver brooch given as part of your uniform to symbolize you as a person of the royal family.

The confusion in Trey’s eyes turned to disbelief when he watched your silver brooch become a damning color as you dipped the silver into the tea.

The broken maid would have crumbled completely onto the pristine floor if not for your hand still on her wrist. While she seemed to be a bumbling mess begging for her life, you couldn’t risk her making a run for it.

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.

”So, it was a plan to replace me…permanently.”

You stood silently in front of the solemn man in his office. After arresting her, it was easy to extract information from the maid and prince Riddle is gathering evidence for their act of treason, including your own interrogation.

“You are the trusted aide-to-be of the prince that cannot be bribed. You’re considered an obstacle.” You bowed your head. “I apologize for not speaking out sooner but if it were just my words without evidence, I could have my tongue removed for accusing nobility.”

If it was just you, then you wouldn’t be as confident. But to think that those corrupted nobles managed to convince someone else to do their dirty work. They were desperate and now that there was an attempt, the higher authorities have to take action.

“I shouldn’t feel bad for that maid…why should I for the choice she made…” you could still feel the sensation of that woman’s shaking body in the hand that held her. You don’t like it.

“Ha, you really don’t sugarcoat your words.” Trey’s voice pulled you back as he tried to laugh but his young body felt too heavy to put his whole heart into it.

But it’s finally over. The poisoning failed and those stupid noble scums were on Prince Riddle’s hit-list. That feeling of guilt that ate at your heart could finally rest in peace…right?

Even when he was the victim of all this, Trey was still sitting in his office in charge of investigating his own assassination attempt, on top of his usual duties in assisting the Royal family.

“Thank you for your time,” he even dares to smile kindly at you with dark circles under his warm eyes. “If you could, please call over the head staff to plan on interrogating the rest of the servants.”

“No.”

“N-No?”

“I won’t be doing that. I could ask the head staff to leave his schedule open if needed or if he could handle it with the guards since that’s his f*cking job,” You stared right into Trey’s eyes which widened in surprise. “For now, I humbly suggest Sir Clover to take a rest in his room or to work on something other than your assassination case.”

You didn’t wait for your stunned employer to reply as you bowed politely once more. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

You moved away, making your way to the door before pausing. You glanced back at the young man in such a large office and your consciousness felt heavy. Your body was physically no older than Trey or Riddle but the weight on their shoulders was immeasurable, too much for either of them to handle on their own.

“Sir Clover,” you refused to look him in the eyes, “if you ever need anything…I’m willing to assist however I can.”

Immediately regretting your embarrassing words, you quickly added “but during work hours only!” before hastily leaving the office.

A shame really, since you missed the way Trey let out a genuine laugh after so long.

[medusa-fem]

Not all trans women are innocent bystanders to the patriarchy

My trans girlfriend from highschool used to complain that I didn't want to sleep with her because "I didn't see her as a real woman". This was a coercion tactic, used against me as a traumatized female who simply did not want to have sex often.

Another trans woman I knew adamantly defended lolicon, stating that "they aren't real kids". Of course I later found out she got off to "legal loli"

Same trans woman as before adamantly defended the movie cuties. Did not give two shits about the exploitation of young girls. Even said that bullying maps online was wrong because "pedophiles need support to not act on their urges"

I have also had a run in with a male who clearly did not even care to be a woman, simply called himself one as a sissy to get a pass to get closer to female people. Absolute fucking freak. Abusive towards a younger female coworker using sexist slurs, kept touching me when I explicitly said to stop and said I lead him on after getting kicked out of my home, even used his fake label to try to get head from a trans woman he had known for 3 days who showed no interest.

I knew a trans woman who kept dating people younger than her. Saw a freshly 18 trans girl as a 23 year old. Consistently talked about how immature she was, which makes it clear to me she knew the power dynamic.

I had a trans woman I was hanging out with get permission from the other trans woman in the room to strip down to nothing, but did not ask me if I was comfortable with it. Then asked me if I wanted to see her botched circumcision scar. (I had only met her twice prior).

I had a trans woman use love bombing to manipulate me into jumping into a relationship with her. Once I realized how manipulative and mentally unwell she was I was going to break up with her. As soon as she figured out she drove to my house drunk to "get her things". She screamed at me and kept balling up her fist like she was going to punch me while I sobbed. I texted all of my nearby friends that if I didn't text them by x time the next day to call the cops, because I thought she was going to assault me.

I know of a trans woman in the area who was a friend of a trans man for about 6 months. He described them as something close to platonic soul mates. She raped him when he was too intoxicated to speak.

I knew a trans woman who would fully strip at any given opportunity while hanging out with a group of friends. Everyone was uncomfortable.

An abusive "friend" of mine from highschool began labeling himself nonbinary to sleep with traumatized trans men and nonbinary afab people who did not want to date men. He didn't do anything but use the label. He falsely accused me of rape because I began telling people about his abuse. He made comments about trying to get a trans male partner pregnant to trap him. Last I heard of him he was trying to sleep with my trans man friend, being extremely coercive, while I had to tell him to get the fuck out of there so he wouldn't get raped.

This isn't even all of it. I know some radfems who do not associate at all with the trans community may not realize it, but this is common place for trans men and nonbinary afabs. I have faced so much at the hands of trans women who were not held accountable for their behavior because no one wanted to hurt the reputation of trans women as a whole.

The concerns about bathrooms don't strike a cord because the trans community doesn't see it happen, that is actually rare. Please use the stories of the regular victims of trans women's actions, because these are stories I hope the lgbt community can take seriously. I'm not saying trans women as a whole are "men" or "just faking it", I'm saying they need to be held accountable just like other male individuals who harm female people.

[transchesters]

inspired by this post. couldn’t stop thinking about it so i had to write this <3 ends abruptly but i could be persuaded into writing more 🫢

sam winchester was cursed to be an abomination before he was even born. the fates, or perhaps god himself, decided long ago that the youngest winchester brother would be lucifer's perfect vessel. sure, it was mary who made the deal with azazel — her youngest for john's life — but azazel would have wound up in little sammy's nursery, dripping his rancid blood into the baby's mouth.

somewhere down the line, sam accepted this about himself. he was an abomination, only a slight step away from the demons he hunted. when he drank from ruby, he believed it was worth it, that it was the right thing to do. he was saving lives here! but then, ruby was dead, and lilith was dead, and lucifer rose from hell. all because of *him*. he had let himself grow blind enough to be manipulated by the lowest of the low, all because she told him it would make him powerful. and if he was powerful, then he could do anything, save anyone.

how stupid he had been. he had let everyone down. dean, bobby... castiel. castiel, who should have killed him the moment they met. who forgave him each time he fell. who picked him back up, rescued him from the cage, and took on the burden of his memories. like sam was something worth saving, or protecting.

it's well past midnight when sam wanders into the main room of the bunker, rubbing at his dark-circled eyes, unaware of the angel sitting at the table who is leafing through old men of letter's records.

"sam. you look unwell."

sam blinks, though he isn't startled by castiel's presence. if anything, he is grateful for it. grateful and undeserving.

"shouldn't you be sleeping?" comes castiel's voice again, his brow furrowed as it usually is. his blue eyes are sharp and curious as sam walks his way, soon sitting down in the chair across from his.

"probably. doesn't mean i can," sam replies, peeking over to see what castiel is reading, but the angel closes the book before he gets a chance to. when sam looks up with a raised brow, the expression on castiel's face is unreadable. "what?"

"why is it that you still torture yourself, sam?" castiel questions suddenly, leaning forward as he rests his arms on the table, lacing his fingers together in front of him. when the only response he gets is a confused look from sam, he tilts his head and continues. "you have such a low opinion of yourself. even after all the good you have done, all the lives you have saved, you still think of yourself as the boy with the demon blood."

sam's face falls flat, and he stiffens in his chair. why did castiel have to be so perceptive, and so straightforward? "i dunno, man. we don't need to get into that right now," he mumbles eventually, averting his eyes from the blue ones that see right through him. he runs a hand through his hair, trying not to think about the last time his insomnia kept him up for so long.

"yes, we do. if it will ease your troubles and allow you to heal, then yes. we do."

sam thinks about that response for several seconds before he finally looks at castiel again, heaving a sigh. "why do you even care, cas? you said it yourself, the day we met. i'm the boy with the demon blood. that's what i am, above being a hunter, above being dean's brother, above everything." something about castiel's eyes urge him to spill his guts, and he suddenly can't stop talking. "i'm unclean. unholy. even after all this time, i still feel it in me. every time i kill a demon, i think about how good it would feel to drink it's blood, and then i hate myself a little more. i'm a monster, cas. i'm no better than them."

their eye contact is unwavering, and as sam falls silent, they are both still. castiel, who has become as precious to sam as dean, stares at him with a profound sadness in his eyes. sam deserves none of it.

"you could fix me," sam says suddenly, the idea hardly formed in his mind before he's latching on to it, leaning forward suddenly so he's closer to castiel. "you, you're the opposite of me. you're pure and just and perfect."

castiel blinks owlishly, his head cocked to the side in a way that makes sam want to weep. how can an angel sit before him like this and not feel anything but revulsion?

"sam, if i could heal you, i would. but there is nothing to heal. there is nothing wrong with you." castiel frowns as sam scoffs at his words, almost pouting. "there isn't. the demon blood within you is just a part of you. there is nothing to be done about it. you can fight your urges, and you can do the right thing. that's all that matters, in the end."

perhaps he means to sound reassuring, but sam just feels sick. he's shaking his head before castiel even finishes his sentence. "you're wrong. i’m wrong, on a molecular level. but you can help me!" without thinking, sam reaches out, grapsing castiel's hand in his own. he's surprised to find that castiel's skin is much cooler than that of a normal human. he's also surprised that castiel doesn't recoil from the touch. instead, their hands twine together like they have done this before. like their hands belong together.

"i want to help you," castiel says in a quiet tone, briefly looking down at their hands, feeling an unusual flutter in his chest. "what can i do for you, sam? i will do anything in my power." devotion is clear in his tone, but sam doesn't notice. he's too far gone into hating himself and trying to fix himself.

"it's angel blood. it's your blood — don't you see? you're the only one who can save me and make me right. because, despite everything, you're still here. you let me hold your hand and you heal me after hunts, even though i'm... me. but if you let me have your blood... it would cleanse me." sam isn't sure, really, where the idea came from. if he's been thinking about it for awhile, or if it all just clicked rather suddenly. but he is without a doubt that it will work. that castiel can save him.

castiel looks up from their joined hands and meets sam's eyes again. he takes in the human before him, tainted but lovely, cursed yet trying his hardest. perhaps he is right. demon blood is what ruined sam in the first place, so why shouldn't angel blood be the antidote? and even though castiel tries to rationalize it in his mind, he knows there is no point. because either way, he would say yes.

"of course, sam," he agrees quietly, an angel blade suddenly appearing in his hand.

"wait — not here. i don't want dean to..." sam trails off, because the thought of his brother walking in on this is simply too terrible to speak.

with a ruffle of invisible feathers, they are suddenly seated on sam's bed, in his simple room, devoid of personal touches that would make it truly his. castiel casts his eyes around, noting the differences between this room and dean's, who filled his with memories and mementos the moment they claimed this as their home. he returns his gaze to sam, sitting beside him so their shoulders brush. "it'll be okay, sam," he promises as he begins rolling up the sleeve of his trenchcoat, and then his white shirt, exposing his pale forearm.

sam stares at the soft flesh — unmarked unlike his own which is covered with scars — with a strange feeling in his stomach. he watches with apt interest as castiel drags the silver blade across his skin, a red line of blood following. the angel and the boy with the demon blood lock eyes again for a lingering glance, before sam takes castiel's arm in his hands and pulls it up to his lips.

[p4p4y4princess]

Every time I go on tiktok, I just get angry. Like I've not mentioned the hate after Brazil as a Lando supporter because I choose to tune it out because I'm unwell myself and can't handle the stress of worrying about a man who doesn't know about me, parasocial relationships aside, I do not know this man but I do know what the women and fem presenting people in the F1 fandom go through.

It's not just the "What's DRS then?" joke. It's the sarcasm and snarky comments on every Lando or Carlos or Charles or Oscar (or anyone really) supporter who happens to be a girl's posts. It's the bullying of TEENAGERS by grown men for finding a celebrity attractive or entertaining. When men lust over the WAGs, when the tabloids reported on drivers groping women in the backs of cars and spraying champagne up grid girls' skirts: it gets continuously brushed under the rug because there will always be the power imbalance and a sexist angle in every aspect of this sport because if a woman opens her mouth about liking a driver, she's ruining the sport but when Ayrton Senna dated a 15 year old girl, he was a hero and a different time.

I think of Rush as a film so often and that Chris Hemsworth as James Hunt said that it's not the driving that gets girls to like the drivers, it's the thrill of it all which I think has some weight to it while misogynistic but there's only so much grace you can give James Hunt in this conversation. We look at drivers of the past and those who have grown with decorum and not acted like a fool whilst in Formula 1 or post retirement as this shining light of movement in the F1 world. Seb Vettel was objectively a little shit when he was at RB and look what a shining example he is now, there's room for change, kindness and learning in a sport like this.

We all get used to this misogyny at times, we take the blows given out for having an interest, we get reminded of our places in society in a patriarchy like F1 and we do it because we want that morsel of respect. We fall to it sometimes, personally I've seen multiple girls and fem presenting people make the joke of "why are we sexualizing the drivers?" "why do you have to make everything weird?" May it be the constant willingness to shrink ourselves into the background and be the ones who don't cause a fuss or make our excitement the loudest but if you are in that either end of that situation, I see you and I hear you. You are allowed to be happy. You are allowed to be as loud and as proud as you want to be about your favourite drivers and teams. Defend that shit with your life if that is your joy, do not let anyone take that from you but understand every action has a reaction and if you have a disdain for your fellow girl, please ask yourself why.

The girls are in the academies, baby girls are growing up in garages and in front of TV's in awe of fast, brightly coloured cars, freshly 18 year old women are becoming motorsports students and interning on go-kart tracks and mechanics. Let's not crush their dreams by letting misogyny no matter how miniscule win.

[nevertheless-moving]

I'm not quite there yet but I KNOW that after wind and truth featuring Szeth and Kaladin's Unwell Adventure, I WILL be adding Kalaszeth to my all encompassing mental cabinet of beloved possible Kaladin ships.

---

Which introduces a new funniest time travel companion for a new funniest post book 5 time travel scenario.

Stormlight au 31:

Szeth, having jump scared the bridge crew by appearing lightly glowing in the dark while they were having stew, been hastily ushered by the captain into the bridge four barrack, only to sit on the floor and stare dead eyed at nothing: Kaladin, standing between the crew and the man on the floor:

---

Lopen looked around. As usual, he could tell that the men were silently crying out for him, the Lopen, to take charge and speak.

"So!" he said cheerfully. "Gotta say gancho, very excited to meet an old friend of yours! Nice to take some mystery out of that mysterious past of yours, eh?"

Kaladin shifted from foot to foot, face twisting a bit. He had been acting strange since that terrifying glowy high storm vision of his a few days back. Even more broody than usual, which was storming saying something.

"It must be difficult," Rock said slowly. "Being Shin man with great powers and shardblade."

A shardblade which he had summoned unceremoniously, causing all of bridge four to scramble for weapons, only for the crazy man to hand it to Kaladin with a mumble, then sit on the floor.

Kaladin had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before placing it, very, very carefully, under his bed.

A storming shardblade. Under the Captain's bed.

"A Shin with a shardblade who wears white," Moash added sarcastically, eyes flickering to the Captain's bed even more than usual.

(White may have been a stretch, what with all the mud and possibly dried blood. Still. Lopen could perhaps see Moash's point.)

"Yes," Rock said. "Why, were I more suspicious man, I would say Captain, this man on the floor, he can not be Assassin in White? Surely most wanted, most dangerous man in all Roshar is not here, in the place we sleep, asking for aid. Surely it would have been mentioned if this man who caused the war we even now are a part of, was old friend of yours?"

"I..." Kaladin trailed off. "I promised to try and protect..."

The whole bridge crew groaned, Skar even throwing his spear at the ground. Bad form, that.

"Storm's sake lad!" Teft growled, arms in the air. "You can't befriend and save every wanted criminal you meet!"

"If it is of help -"

The men started at the unnerving dead voice coming from the so far quiet assassin.

"We are not truly friends. Merely -"

He said a word, presumably in his language, then frowned, the first recognizably human emotion that had crossed his face.

"I do not know this word in Alethi. In Azish it is I think -"

He said something that made Sigzil choke on air, jaw dropping. "Uh," the Worldsinger stammered out. "I. Ah. I think. That might be the wrong term."

The Captain seemed to pale slightly. "Szeth, we can talk about that later," he said quickly. "We should probably figure out a plan for you to surrender to Dalinar - or Elokhar - without you getting immediately executed - Yes, Dalinar is probably-"

"Perhaps," Sigzil interrupted, voice higher than usual. "You could define the meaning of the word you used before."

"Sigzil!" The captain hissed.

"Captain?" Sigzil challenged, voice still slightly too high.

"I was emotionally and mentally unwell," the assassin in white said in his monotone. He paused. "Even more so than currently."

A few of the men took a step back.

"Stormblessed..." he looked up at Kaladin, and his voice seemed to soften, just the slightest bit. "He felt pity for me. Then he helped me feel. Helped me think that perhaps, someday I would feel the desire for life. He did this despite no great love for my being."

Many of the men nodded at that. Sigzil's shoulders slumped in relief.

"He accomplished this primarily by fucking me in a cave."

The nods froze. Sigzil closed his eyes.

The Captain slapped a hand to his face.

"The translation for this from my language would be 'pity fuck', but there is more cultural nuance..." The Assassin shrugged. "In any case it is not a bond such as that of friendship. My soul is still far too damaged for that."

"Szeth..." The Captain said, looking down at him with obvious concern. He glanced at the room, blanched at the men's expressions, then slowly pressed his head back into his hand.

Moash made an indecipherable noise and stomped towards the door, before making another noise and stomping back.

The Captain kept his palm pressed to his face.

A sudden wave of epiphany hit Lopen. "Hold on. Now hold on just a storming minute!"

The room turned slowly from staring at their Stormblessed leader to staring at Lopen.

He pointed accusingly at the Captain. When the man failed to pull his massive hand from his beautiful face, Lopen faced the others, glaring.

"I know that I joined bridge four late! But are you telling me that before I got here, the whole famous 'pulling everyone out of bridge crew misery' was actually the captain...I mean did storming all of you..."

He made a deliberate gesture, pointer finger moving extra emphatically to make up for the missing hand with which to form a hole, meeting each man's eyes with a challenge.

Drehy let out a wheeze. He and Skar looked at each other before dissolving into quiet, helpless laughter. Drehy sank to his hands and knees, wheezing more, and Skar bent over, tears streaming down his face as he gasped around his laughing.

"That ain't an answer!" he said indignantly.

He looked at Teft, but the older man had put both hands over his face. His shoulders seem to shake occasionally. Lopen's eyes narrowed as he turned to Rock.

The horneater had a hand over his mouth, but he brought it down, coughing once as he stroked his beard.

"What," Rock said mildly. "You thought it my stew that bring back men's will to live? You honor me, the Lopen."

Lopen gaped at that, and he wasn't the only one. The handful of other 'late' additions, men who had been rescued on the field from other crews, started in shock.

The rest of the crew completely lost it at that point.

Skar and Drehy collapsed further, banging their fists on the floor. Bissig started laughing as well, falling onto Natam, who had made a strange grunting whine at Lopen's question, a whine which grew louder at Rock's reply.

Moash's lips turned up reluctantly before a snort escaped against his will. He fell back against a wall, knees seeming to grow weak. Another snort. "Imagine!" he gasped out. "If he just started punching people in the stomach, ran around like a madman, and expected people to follow him!"

Leyten went from chuckling to a booming laugh at that, clutching at Pete and Yake to stay upright. He looked at Lopen, who made another questioning gesture. That was enough to send all three toppling over, Leyten loud enough to be heard the next barrack over.

Renarin squeaked from the corner as Natam hit the wall beside him in mirth, howling. Talek's breath, he had forgotten the lad was there, light eyes wide in shock.

Shen was next to him. Was it Lopen's imagination, or did even his eyes seemed to be sparkling with mirth? No storming way...not the parshman...the Captain wouldn't...

"Crazy!" Torfin agreed, cackling. "What kind of idiots would start pooling all their pay to buy storming bandages for doomed men, start laughing during chasm duty, swear to stand by their storming bridge, if they didn't have at least one, um - uh -"

"Stormblessing!" Leyten offered with a gasp from the ground.

Torfin pointed at him, "Stormblessing!" he repeated with a yell. "To remind them that life was worth living!"

Lopen narrowed his eyes, finally coming to a conclusion. "You fellows are taking the piss out on me," he accused.

"You know Captain," Drehy said, whole body heaving, tears still streaming down his face as he lay helplessly on the floor. "I still get nightmares."

This inspired a new wave of laughter mixed with jeers about their own issues, and suggestions for how the captain could help. Lopen shook his head, grinning widely at the room full of uproarious men. Some of his best work. And mostly achieved on accident, which was the best kind of accomplishment!

The Captain finally pulled his hand from his face. There was color high in his cheeks, and he was frowning, but the corners of his eyes were creased with suppressed laughter.

"Sorry Drehy, one time offer," he said dryly, to hoots.

And Lopen," he said, faux apologetic. "I am sorry for the oversight. I... didn't realize you were interested."

The crew edged well into hysteria, most men only able to breathe in strangled gasps and wheeze out an occasional ''Stormblessing!'

Bridge four's captain was good at playing straight man, when the mood struck him.

The Lopen huffed, but decided magnanimously to move past the slight to his honor. Even if it turned out they weren't joking.

"It's still nice to be included," he sniffed. "Ain't that right, Renarin."

The Brightlord seemed to shrink as attention was drawn towards him, face a brilliant red as he pressed into the corner. Some of the laughter trailed off as the crew remembered he was there. More of it got louder, even less uncontrolled.

The Captain's eyes widened and the flush on his cheeks spread to his ears.

"Renarin! Oh - Jezrianssake, the men are full of chullshit, alright? I didn't - that wasn't -"

The Captain gestured helplessly. "The thing with Szeth was - we were - the world was going to -"

He threw up his arms as Renarin's eyes just got wider.

"It was the stew!" He said desperately, turning to look at Eth, who looked bemused back at him. "It really was the stew!" He pleaded.

"I know Captain," Eth said soothingly. "I know I came in a bit later, but I know. That's not exactly something these idiots would be able to keep secret."

"Things might have gone faster, though..." Skar said leadingly, which set off another round of helpless groans and gasps for air.

The Captain rolled his eyes, scoffing, still the perfect comedic straight man.

...He did get the whole joke though, right? The bit of truth in the jeers? The Lopen was not generally interested in the more manly sex but Storms. It was sometimes hard to tell if the Captain realized just how pretty he was, just how much people reacted to his general...Stormblessedness. Not to mention the glowing! Everyone loves a man who can glow and run up walls.

Hm. Maybe that helped explain the Captain and the Assassin.

Moash stumbled, still snorting, over to the Man in White - to Szeth - looking down at him, appraising.

Kaladin grew tense.

Gancho had been especially strange around Moash for the last few days.

"Assassin," he said thoughtfully. "Are you sure it was just pity?"

The wide eyed man, who had remained utterly impassive as the room fell apart around him, cocked his head as Moash leaned down.

"There's a certain kind of person who finds killing light eyes, especially powerful lighteyes, a rather..."

Kaladin cleared his throat, interrupting. "We're not killing the king."

Moash turned sharply, glaring at Kaladin.

"I do not wish to kill anymore," Szeth whispered. He paused, then spoke again.

"I will kill if the Blackthorn orders, or if you ask, Kaladin Stormblessed, son son Tanavast."

Kaladin winced. "Maybe let's not mention...that whole last part when we go to the King. We...we should definitely practice exactly how we're going to explain all this."

He starting towing the still blank faced - no there was a bit of confusion there, if you were looking - infamous Assassin to his office, the men letting out the best jeers they could (considering their incoherent state) as they went.

"You should for sure mention the 'pity fuck' thing though," Lopen called helpfully. "The King will definitely be interested in that."

Continued Here

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Reboot/ Cocoa Reader: *bringing some new donations down to the Marvel section in the middle of their shift*

Reader: *sees Scott standing in their section, who a little surprised they were finally able to get to Reader and is having a small mental breakdown because they're here and they've gotten so big and-*

Reader: *assuming he's a customer* Cool cosplay man. Remember, all superhero t-shirts are 50% today, so I'd take advantage of that.

Scott: Um, yeah... um... I'm kinda new here... could you please show me around?

Reader: Sure, new guy. Cool shades by the way. I wear glasses sometimes too

Scott: O-oh, really? Um, that's nice to know! So, um... this section? What is it? What building are we in?

Reader: ... did you not see the name out front? It's kinda hard to miss...

Scott: Um, bad vision! I, um, can't see well in the daytime! (It's nighttime or late evening)

Reader, shrugging it off: Okay, that makes sense; now, this is the Marvel section, you have all kinds of hero and villain stuff, plenty of comics, figures, shirts, cards, etc., ranging from Avengers and Guardians of the Galaxy to Fantastic Four and the different Spidermen/women/persons, and also X-Men-

Scott: ! Yes, let's talk about that last one! Um, for starters, what all do you know about that? In full detail? And what country are we in? And how legal is it to have a, um, disability?

Reader: ...

Reader: I think we need to check your head...

Reader: Sit down, let me call my co-workers, maybe we can set up a job for you or a place to sleep; oh dear, this is bad... can you remember your name? How many fingers am I holding up? Do you feel lightheaded or nauseous?

Scott: Um, that, that won't be necessary-

Reader: Nonsense! We'll sort this out, 'kay? You're gonna be fine

Scott, tearing up because this reminds him of the old Reader: Y-yeah, everything's gonna be fine

Scott isn't able to stay for very long, at most maybe half a day. He has to go back to the X-Men, where he can rest and feel better, while also telling them where Reader has been kept, what they look like now, and what all they remember. Scott becomes a part-time employee/co-worker of the Bay Antique and Flea Market, he starts wearing a shirt with the Xavier Institure/X-Men symbol on it, and follows Reader around and asking questions like an almost six foot tall puppy.

(He doesn't give much of a name for Reader to use, but Reader calls him Scotty, and they share their cold coffee stash with him) (He sometimes watches thr show with them, but sometimes has to duck out and go back because the others need him, or he starts feeling unwell...)

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Ed can't even kill HIMSELF like he's so fucked up he can't even take a bullet to his own head he needs Izzy - his right hand, the man who has done all the killing for him - to kill HIM too and he goes to IZZY to try and make this happen like how he's trusted Izzy to have his back and now he trusts Izzy to shoot his back and Izzy just laughs I'm unwell about those old men

[ozym4ndi4s]

Sigh I love old men

redraw of friend's art (HERE.) because I couldn't stop thinking of their drawing. adkhlfbasdjfh go follow bestie @professionallydeadinside he did the og/inspo for this grrrr

I'm so unwell about them.

[vgilantee]

love lost {neteyam sully}

neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x fem na'vi!reader

requested: n/a (well... kind of. i pitched the idea to julie and she encourages me too much &lt;;3)

words: 4.0k (this is... double the length of what i had planned oop)

a/n: the way of water spoilers i stg if you haven't watched the movie you don't get to bitch about spoilers if you read this fic listen. listen i love neteyam so much. and as much as i would like to write a canon variance fic, i also have fun writing angst. my forte is more hurt/comfort and "angsty but there will be fluff and a happy ending" because i'm a softie and a romantic but sad angst is still fun to write

warnings/tags: hurt/no comfort, implied doing the dirty, mating (sfw), death, grieving/mourning, depression symptoms, implied suicidal ideation, reader and neteyam are about 18/19 because that's how old i thought he was when i watched the movie, mostly canon compliant (whoops), SPOILERS, no proofreading we die like neteyam men

pronouns: she/her

na'vi translations:

oeyä - my (possessive) narlor - beautiful (visually) muntxa si - mate / marry yawne - beloved

From a young age, it was clear that you would spend the rest of your life by Neteyam’s side. He was your best friend, the first person to treat him as just another kid and not the first born son of the olo’eyktan. 

As you grew together, the way you felt about each other seemed to grow in sync, from entirely platonic best friends, to teenagers who would sneak out of chores to kiss in the forest. One day, while leaning against his chest and feeling his fingers play with the beaded ends of your braids, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, whispering into your skin.

“Once we have finished the rites, I want to be yours,” your breath hitched at his words, “forever.” You blinked, twisting to look up at him with wide eyes. “If you’ll have me.” You rolled your eyes, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

“Of course I’ll have you.” Neteyam broke into a wide  smile, as if for a moment he expected you would say anything else. “In this life and the next.” If you were told as a child, that at sixteen, just days before he made his first kill, that you and Neteyam would be promising to be each other’s mates, you would have laughed them off.

Now, you were beaming at him while sat on his lap, pressing kisses to his mouth and cheeks, eliciting laughter from him as he fell back, arms wrapped around your waist. 

Your parents and his had all apparently known of his plans to propose to you that evening, as they were all waiting for you in the Sully family hut as you arrived, excited that your families would become one. As Kiri swatted Lo’ak for throwing his hands in the air with a loud exclamation of ‘finally’, Mo’at guided you away from the crowd.

“Once you begin your rites, I shall teach you to use and amplify your connection to Eywa.” Her eyes were soft as she rested her hands on your shoulders. “I believe you shall become a strong Tsahik.” You thanked her with a bow, grateful that she would so willingly teach you and flattered at her compliment.

Time seemed to move both too fast and not fast enough over the next year and a half as you both completed your rites and became adults of the clan. Like his father, Neteyam became one of the greatest Omaticaya warriors, proudly taking his place at the olo’eyktan’s side. But however strong and fearless he became, his eyes always softened as he looked at you, an impatience within him to finally have you as his official mate, to be able to say he is yours entirely. 

Like Mo’at told, your connection to Eywa grew, able to understand her guidance with ease. Quickly, you learned that your favourite part of being the future Tsahik was healing. Being able to help those in your clan that were injured or unwell was always rewarding. And despite her being your personal guide and teacher, you were extremely honoured every time Mo’at invited you to assist in ceremonies with Eywa in front of the clan. 

Neteyam’s ceremony was performed around a month after your own, and still, he waited a week to ask you again to be his mate.

With his fingers easily weaved between your own, he guided you toward the bioluminescent clearing where he had first proposed. (And where, two short years before that, you had shared your first kiss). Neteyam held both of your hands, close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across his face; not that you hadn’t done so many times before. 

“I know I have already asked you this,” his voice was soft and nervous as he spoke, “but I want to ask again.” As he drew in a slow, shuddered breath, you leaned up and pressed a kiss beside his mouth. “Will you be my mate? Would you honour me with allowing me to be yours forever?” Your eyes watered, crying despite knowing what he was going to ask, and you nodded with a smile. But still he waited, wanting to hear you say it. 

“Neteyam, yes. I would love to be your mate.” He let out a sigh of relief, quick to drop your hands to grab your face and kiss you. You smiled against each other’s mouths, hands on each other and pulling each other as close as you physically could.

His hands slide down your body and grasp the underside of your thighs, lifting you so your legs could wrap around his waist. With his mouth never leaving yours, Neteyam carefully sat down and rested you on his lap, the ground lighting up under him. 

“You are so breathtaking.” He whispered against your lips and you pulled away with a flustered laugh, forehead rested against his. Neteyam was never shy about complimenting you, but somehow his words never failed to cause your heart to skip and the tips of your ears to warm. 

“Oel ngati kamele, Ma Neteyam.” You ran your fingers over his bicep causing goosebumps to raise as you spoke with a sigh.

Wordlessly, you reached up behind you to grab your braid that safely held your queue, pulling it over your shoulder and dragging your fingers down to the end. The soft tendrils of your queue reached for him, yearning for him just as your heart did. Neteyam mirrored your movement, bringing his queue around, and held it just in front of your own. Your eyes flicked up from your queues to meet his eyes. 

Although you had loved each other since you were children, you were both still nervous that the other would change their mind. 

“I am yours.” You asserted. Neteyam dropped his head forward to press your foreheads together again.

“Yours. I have always been yours.” 

As your queues entangled, you sucked in a short breath, body relaxing as you watched his pupils dilate. Your heart began to race as your breaths began to match his, eyes falling closed. After years of promises and soft kisses in the dark, your souls were entwined and could never be separated.

---

You squeezed Neteyam’s hand as Tarsem’s hand dropped against Jake’s chest in a fist, cementing the change in leader and the end of Jake’s reign as olo’eyktan. The Suli Tseyeyk’itan family were leaving the clan as sky people threatened to hunt them. Revenge on Jake for something that happened nearly two decades ago. Neteyam had offered to let you stay with the clan while he left with his family. But you refused, reminding him that you were his mate, by his side forever. And if his family was in danger, you were included in that. 

Neteyam pulled you up behind him onto his ikran and you easily wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting on the back of his shoulders. It was a position that you had been in before, taken on many flights by your mate from the day that he bonded with his flying beast. 

But the pit in your stomach still reminded you of how different this would be. You were leaving your clan and the only family and life you had ever known. You knew that you would follow Neteyam to the ends of Pandora, but the change was still scary. You had no way of knowing what was to come with leaving your home, you had no idea what your new one would look like. Neteyam reached down and rested his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze as his ikran took off. 

No two na’vi described the effects of mating the same, Eywa giving each couple a different way of connecting and understanding each other. For you and Neteyam, it seemed that it had given you both the ability to understand the deep emotions of each other. You could tell when he was stressed about the pressures of his future title and he could tell when your anxiety sunk deep into your bones. It was as if you could feel him in the depths of your being, an overlay on the edge of your soul. 

So he knew, as you pressed your chest against him and felt the rush of the wind whistling past his ears, that you were afraid of what was to come. But with his hand pressed safely against your thigh, the warmth spreading from where the skin met, it reassured you that whatever happened he would be by your side and making things a little less scary. 

---

Neteyam always asserted that you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Even as a child, there was something about you that made him smile and desperate to hear your laugh. You had swum together many times in the various ponds around the Home Tree and Ayram alusing, but watching you rise out of the ocean, flicking water out of your braids with a shake and laughing with Tsireya, he could swear that he fell in love with you all over again. 

“Bro,” Lo’ak smacked his chest, bringing his attention back to their ilu training, “she’s already your mate, you can stop the lovesick staring.” Neteyam hit him back, looking back over at you to see your attention already on him. You sent him a soft wave, which he happily returned with a smile.

--- 

Despite Jake’s best attempt at keeping his family safe and keeping the war away, the need for vengeance from a man who was supposed to be long dead was too strong. All too quickly the sky people in their boat with their machines that killed tulkun with ease arrived.

You held onto the ilu tightly as you all raced to catch up with Lo’ak, the ocean spray whipping at you. You knew it was dangerous, leaving Awa’atlu, it was stupid and reckless but Lo’ak was determined to warn the tulkun he had bonded with. 

You watched in awe as the giant creature rose from the ocean, eagerly greeting Lo’ak, who began to panic once noticing a red spear-like tracker in the beast’s shoulder. You wasted little time, standing up on the ilu and diving into the water, swimming over to help the boy pull the tracker out. Neteyam was close behind you, and he helped pull up the Metkayina teens who had come with you. 

You heard Lo’ak radio their father while Kiri and Tuk climbed onto the tulkun and finally, as the sky people boat rounded the rocky bluff, the six of you pulled the tracker out.

“Go that way, I’ll draw them off.” Neteyam ordered, holding the tracker. As you opened your mouth to rebut, he cut you off. “Go with Tsireya. I’ll be okay.” You huffed at him, but obliged, swimming beside the girl and grabbing hold of her ilu’s saddle. 

---

You held onto the ilu as Lo’ak raced towards the rocky island with Neteyam leaning against him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, the way he wheezed with each breath. There was no way to explain it, but you could feel a heat blooming in your chest. You hadn’t seen him get shot, having been with Tsireya after she escaped the large ship, but you immediately knew, your mated connection through Eywa causing a phantom pain. 

You could only watch as Spider and Tsireya guided Neteyam up to Jake, who helped them pull him onto the rocks. Jake rolled him onto his side to check for wounds before he laid him back. For a moment, he looked between you and Lo’ak who kneeled beside Neteyal, but quickly chose to take Lo’ak’s hands and had him apply pressure. 

As Neteyam gasped for breath, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath either. With shaky hands you took his, lowering yourself down so you could hold it to your mouth, staring up at him with glassy eyes. 

His breaths grew shorter, more panicked, as Neytiri landed her ikran and fell to her knees between you and Lo’ak. Jake held his face as he reassured him that it would be okay, and you felt like your throat was closing. Then everything stopped, and Jake pulled his hand away from Neteyam’s cheek.

Everything sounded muffled, like you were underwater or had cups over your ears. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It felt as though your lungs stopped taking in air and like someone was squeezing your heart. You couldn’t hear what Neytiri was saying as she shook Neteyam’s shoulders, you could only hear the anguish in her voice. You felt it in your chest as she screamed and Jake pulled her to his chest. You looked over as the sounds around you echoed to see Lo’ak staring down at his red-stained hands. 

You rocked on your knees, internally pleading with Eywa to wake you up, give you a sign that this was a nightmare and the emptiness in your chest was a horrid lie. You didn’t bother wiping away any of your tears, barely noticing them as they rolled down your cheeks and met with the back of Neteyam’s hand, which you hadn’t moved from your lips in the hopes that it would twitch, that he would be alive. 

Then, all at once, sound returned. And you screamed. Pained and desperate, your voice cracking. You dropped his hand and collapsed down into Neteyam’s chest, pleading with Eywa to let his heart start beating again. You could hear voices, Jake and Neytiri’s, but what they were saying didn’t register. All you could focus on as you sobbed was the hollow, empty feeling deep in your chest. You let out a pained wail as you sat up, turning to Jake as you felt his hand rest on your shoulder. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again, instead choosing to give you a soft, sad look. 

You were left alone on the rocks with Neteyam as the others left to return to the ship and save the Sully daughters. You sat beside him cross-legged, and carefully pulled his head into your lap as if trying not to wake him from sleep. As gently as you could, you wiped away the blood staining his skin, wanting to erase all evidence that he was hurt, then you ran your fingers over his face, pushing his braids to the side and wiping away water and tears (both his and your own) from his star-speckled cheeks. Once you were satisfied, you gently closed his eyes.

Neteyam was always so beautiful as he slept, and you always loved the mornings when you would wake up before him leaving you able to roll over and stare at his peaceful expression. He would always get embarrassed when you told him he was pretty when he slept, the tips of his ears flushing pink. 

“Ma Neteyam. Oeyä narlor muntxa si.” You pressed your lips to his forehead while you whispered to him. “Oeyä yawne. Please, come back to me. I cannot do this without you, I cannot live the rest of my life without you. You were supposed to be by my side forever.” You hiccuped as a sob broke out of you. You leaned back, staring up at the sky. “Great Mother, please. Please, do not take him from me, Great Mother.” You continued to sob and plead with Eywa and Neteyam’s heart as the boat exploded and a fire broke out. 

The yellow-orange light reflected in your eyes and the tears that stained your cheeks. You barely registered the warmth, unable to feel without Neteyam. 

---

You swam with the Sully family, close to Jake and Neytiri as they carried Neteyam’s body toward the Metkayina’s cove of ancestors. You had no idea whether the salted damp permanently on your cheeks was your tears or the ocean as the two had long-since become one and the same. You barely ate, you barely spoke. Everything felt as though you were fighting quicksand, too much effort for you. 

Jake and Neytiri had told you that you could swim his body down with them, but you refused, knowing that if you did, it was unlikely you would be able to bring yourself back to the surface without him. 

You and Lo’ak stayed by each other’s side, your hand holding his in a desperate attempt to not take in a breath of water. He held out his other hand toward his brother, while you squeezed your fist to your chest hoping the pinch of your nails into your palm would let you feel more than just numb. 

The glowing anemone reached out to Neteyam, pulling him down and into its warmth. His energy was being returned to Eywa. As the glow absorbed him you let out a sob, realising that he was gone. Your mate, the man who promised he would be by your side forever, was gone and had left you alone with a tightness in your throat and feeling as though there was part of your soul missing. 

Once you made your way back to your marui, you returned to the place you had been laying since you returned to Awa’atlu after being separated from Neteyam; the mat you had shared with Neteyam in the corner and wrapped in the blanked you had brought with you from your home with the Omatikaya clan, the blanket that still smelled so much like your mate. 

Every time you closed your eyes, Neteyam was there with his wide eyes and bright smile. You could still hear his laugh and feel his touch on your skin as you fell asleep. As you slept, you dreamt of the life you were supposed to have with him, by his side as you grew old together, starting your own family that would share the way he smiled and that look he got when he was flying on his ikran. 

You let out a sob and it broke Neytiri’s heart to hear as she passed by. She had seen the way her mother suffered after her father’s death, knowing that the bond of a mate left the living feeling less than themselves. And she herself had nearly lost her Jake once, and that pain was all consuming. Knowing that pain and mixing it with the grief she felt over losing her son, she could only imagine how you felt, so young and without your mate. 

Silently she entered, bowl of food in her hand. Neytiri knew you hadn’t eaten all day, and you were still a part of her family. She slowly crouched beside you and you jolted when you felt her hand on your shoulder. You sniffed, nose still blocked from the crying that never seemed to end, and looked down at the food she offered. You shook your head, having no appetite. Food would not solve the feeling that someone had opened your chest and removed your heart, the only solution to that was buried with the ancestors. 

“My sweet,” her words were soft, and you looked up at her with teary eyes, “are you ready to go to the Spirit Tree?” In the weeks since his death, Neytiri and Jake asked you this question in variation every day, hoping that seeing him in Eywa would ease your grief. They had learned quickly that saying Neteyam’s name visibly broke your already shattered heart even further, even more than the question itself. Neither were sure how long it would take until you were ready, but both did their best to keep you afloat in your grief.

Every time you thought of him, it felt as though you had breathed in water, your lungs heavy and your throat tight. Your breaths came in heaves, every inhale an effort against the thick air of loss. It was rare you were seen outside of your marui, the darkness within keeping you captive.

But you surprised Neytiri when you slowly shrugged off the blanket and nodded. She blinked down at you, but quickly offered you her hand. You took it, accepting her help in pulling you to your feet, the weight on the unused limbs causing you to wobble slightly. 

“I’m afraid.” Your voice was small, scratched from your tears and it’s lack of use. 

“Of what?” Neytiri left a comforting hand on your back, knowing that you may collapse into your consuming grief. 

“That the spirit with Eywa is from before we mated.” That was half true. 

After Jake and Neytiri returned from the Spirit Tree, Jake had told you that the Neteyam he saw was from when he was younger. If you saw that version, he may not even know that you were together at all. 

She hummed as your eyes itched. Neytiri knew you were hiding from her, and while she didn’t want to force your words, she wanted you to know that there was nothing to be ashamed of when it came to expressing your grief.

“And that I’ve forgotten his face.” That confession is what broke you, a whimpered sob breaking from your throat. “I see him everywhere and in everything. I see him when I sleep and I hear him when it’s quiet. But what if the face I remember isn’t the right one.” Neytiri stopped walking and guided you toward her in a hug. You cried freely as her hand ran circles on your back.

She didn’t need to speak, her presence enough. She was, in human terms, your mother-in-law, and she took that very seriously. You were her child, the mated soul of her son. Neytiri would protect you in every way she could and that included keeping you safe from self-destructing in your grief and comforting you in your fears. 

You sucked in a shuddered breath and pulled yourself away from her, apologising for your tears that stuck to her skin. Neytiri waved you off and let you choose the direction to continue in: either back to your marui or toward the Spirit Tree.

---

You sucked in a deep breath before bending at the waist and swimming down toward the glowing tendrils of the Metkayina clan’s Spirit Tree. The cool glow reflected off your skin and you squeezed your eyes closed as you reached behind you and took hold of your braided queue. 

Eywa, please. Let me see My Neteyam again.

You were home again. Back in the deep forest, feet padding along the glowing moss. You pushed aside the familiar branches that revealed the clearing. Your clearing. The place of your first kiss, where he proposed, where you mated. 

You looked around, already tearing up again (a seemingly constant state for you) at being home, when the sound of a pebble bouncing along the water met you. Your ears flicked toward the sound, and your head quickly followed.

Squatting by the pond, arm still extended from the throw, was Neteyam. You let out a short, shuddered breath at the sight of him, and you saw his ears flick. 

He turned, eyes bright and smile warm, his chest showing no sign of the wound that took him from you. Neteyam was exactly as you saw him when you closed your eyes.

“Ma y/n!” At the sound of his voice, the tears broke free and his face dropped, immediately rushing over to you and bringing his hands to your upper arms. “Yawne, what’s wrong?” You shook your head, not wanting him to worry about you. He brought one hand to your chin and you leaned into it. 

“I’m just-” your voice cracked, “I’m so happy to see you.” He tilted his head with a soft smile, leaning down to press his forehead against your own. 

“I’ve missed you.” You felt his breath on your lips and more tears rolled down your flushed cheeks, though they were quickly wiped away by his thumb. You tilted your head to kiss him, ignoring the saltiness of the tears that stuck to your lips. 

“I don’t want to leave you.” Your voice was wet with tears, and Neteyam leaned back to look at you.

“Yawne, I am always with you.” You shook your head but he continued to speak. “But you cannot stay here forever. Not yet.” Neteyam kissed you slowly, pouring out the love that he held for you and making up for the kisses you had missed since his death. 

You opened your mouth to ask why not, but you felt a pain in your lungs. A pain that pulled you away from Neteyam and back to the ocean as your body begged for breath. 

reblogs and kind words are always appreciated!!

tagging: @websterss

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Okay, there is a lot going on in Spare Me Your Mercy, but I am Obsessed with what Boss and the Director have going on.

Old man yaoi, but the old man is rich and powerful and absolutely beholden to the younger man who knows how to put him on his knees and make him submit.

The younger man isn't even into men -- except for his obsession with Kan -- but is happy to tie up the old man and have sex with him as a reward for stepping in to save him from the police.

The old man in question has been financially supporting Hot Young and Dommy for years. He's probably the only person in the Director's will. He's definitely a suspect for at least one murder, and will kill to protect Kan, but in the meantime, fuck that old man and get that bag, baby.

I'm unwell about them. I know it's going to go so, so badly for them, but I'm obsessed.