#and I doubt it would have been successful in third person

[myokk]

My writing/reading question of the day:

Do you prefer present tense or past tense? Or something entirely different like future tense? For writing AND reading🫶

The more I write (I wish I realized how fun it was before this year😭😭😭) the more I realize I like to play around with language & tense choice can have such a profound impact on how your writing comes across & even how I feel as I’m writing. With my oneshots I’ve been playing around with only present tense & my main fic is past tense (but present during the flashbacks - idk don’t ask it just felt right😆).

Or does nobody else think about tense and I’m just alone in this😆😆😆 LANGUAGE IS JUST SO COOL !!!!

[loafbud]

The first Splatoon game turned 8 yesterday!

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 8: The Reunion

“Oh god, look at all these people,” you mutter, looking around the hall the award ceremony from your seat in the developer section, which is full beyond capacity. “Don’t think I’ve seen this many people before.”

The last time you saw so many people was your graduation night at Gotham Academy, but this makes that look like a small office party in comparison.

(There is no need to fret. You have polished your speech to perfection and have rehearsed it so many times you can recite it perfectly in your sleep. And when you are done, all will cheer for you.)

You smile at its words. No matter how uncertain you feel, the Megamycete always has your back. You’d hate to think where you’d be without it.

Well, without the Megamycete, you’d probably be dead.

“Wonder where Alfred is,” you wonder, looking around at the back of the hall. “He said he was coming.”

(We are sure he is here. The butler would swim through shards of broken glass to be here at the biggest triumph of your life.)

You’re so anxious to see the man; it’s been four years since you last saw him in person and you just know he’s going to bring up your lack of visits and probably try to guilt you into visiting since Gotham’s only three hours away, but you intend to stand your ground and go back to Goodsprings tomorrow.

“I hope he likes the suit I got,” you mutter, messing with your collar for the millionth time, not use to wearing such fancy clothes.

(He will. You chose from among millions of choices and made the best choice. Everyone in the room is no doubt in awe of your superior fashion choice.)

The day you were told you were in the running for this award, you drove to Vegas and spent well over an hour at the Men’s Warehouse, looking over and trying on countless suits. The salesman helped a bit, but many people in the Megamycete’s records included many upper class men, men’s fashion designers, and models, so you were more than capable of picking out a tasteful black blazer with a breast pocket perfect for holding your Momma’s pen, a white button up shirt, and matching black pants and dress shoes.

The clothes looked fine on the rack, but wearing them in public for all to see is something you had to psych yourself up for. You feel like a kid playing pretend with his father’s clothes and everyone knows it. Still, you can’t help but feel like a professional and take a little pride in it.

Just then, the lights dim and the audience cheers as the MC steps on stage.

“Hello, everyone,” he says. “Are you ready to kick off the Golden Games?”

The room fills with thunderous applause and cheers, yours among them. You’ve known about this event for years and have never missed watching it. When you first started your game, you fantasized about being at the Gamer’s Gala competing with your fellow developers for the Golden Joystick, but knew there was no chance your first game would ever make it to the first round of voting. Perhaps your second game. Or maybe your third.

But here you are, at this prestigious event with your first ever game in top contention for a prize so many covet.

You pinch yourself to make sure you’re awake and are pleased that you’re wide awake.

The ceremony opens up with the Golden Joystick for the Triple-A Game of the Year and awards for their various categories, like story, gameplay, music, graphics, etc.

“Alright, with all the big dogs out of the way, we finally get to the indie games. And boy, was this year a massive success for so many indie developers with over fifty percent of this year’s most anticipated games being indie games! Let’s go over your picks for this year’s Indie Game of the Year.”

You get a look at the trophy you and your peers are competing for: the Golden Joystick. As the name suggests, it’s a trophy in the shape of an old fashioned joystick made up of a gold material. For a moment, you allow yourself to visualize winning it and displaying it in your office. Hell, you had a spot on a shelf made for it when you got the email from the event committee that Salvage Rights was a candidate for Indie Game of the Year, even though voting was still ongoing.

The MC begins going through the list of games with said games and their developers being displayed on one massive screen behind him with the game’s team showing up on the other one. With each game mentioned, you think about your Momma; you can remember being at some awards ceremony years ago when one of her books was up for some fancy prize. Even back then, you could tell she was so nervous about getting up and making a speech in front of so many people and having it broadcast for all to see.

At the time, you didn’t understand because she would’ve been given an award and everyone could see. Unfortunately, she didn’t win and while she said she hope to win it, it was good enough to be considered for it, you were pissed on her behalf over it.

Being here, you understand why she felt that way. While it would be a dream come true to win the Golden Joystick on your first ever game, just being here, among your peers, is more than enough; knowing you’re skilled enough to make a game worthy of being judged among the best is a tremendous honor. Plus, the thought of having to make a speech in front of so many people makes you so nervous, you fear you’ll lose your lunch.

God, you wish your Momma was here. This is the biggest moment in your professional life and having her in the audience would make you feel better.

(We are sure she would give anything to be here for you. Wherever she is, she is no doubt watching this moment with unparalleled anticipation.)

“And last but not least, the game that exploded onto the scene a month ago and made a surprise cameo on the voting polls, Salvage Rights by Gould Games,” the MC announces as your game appears on one screen while you appear on the other, lit up by a spotlight.

You feel your face break out into a blush as the room fills with applause and cheers. To know that so many people hold you and your work in such high regard… it’s humbling to say the least.

You wave back and give them a big smile.

Finally, the room quiets down, allowing the ceremony to continue.

“Ok, everyone, with all the candidates on the board.” The screen on the right of the stage lists all the games and their developers, yours the last on the list. “We opened the polls for all gamers and had a record breaking ten-point-nine million ones this year for the Indie Game of the Year, guys!”

The room once again fills with applause and a girl runs from backstage, delivers him an envelope, and runs off.

“It took the Gala Committee a while to tally the votes, but when all was said and done, it was clear who the winner was.” He opens the envelope and a drumroll plays from the speakers to buildup the moment. As he pulls out the piece of paper inside it, you realize you’re holding your breath and your heart’s stopped due to the anticipation. “The Golden Joystick for Indie Game of the Year goes to…” He looks down at the paper and looks back up. “Salvage Rights by Gould Games!”

Your eyes become wide as saucers as you process the words, your heart resumes beating and your release the breath you’d been holding since the candidates were announced. You then realize you’re bathed in the spotlights as the big screen shows you at your seat; the room fills with applause and cheers, many people near you congratulating you.

You get up and walk to the stage, nodding and clapping hands with many you pass by on your way to claim your award. Finally, you make it on stage and shake hands with the MC, who gives you the Golden Joystick.

(This is the only way this could have ended. You worked tirelessly on your game and did not stop until it was the definition of perfection. You were more worthy than any other for this trophy.)

“Thank you,” you say into the mic, silencing the room. “I just want to thank my fellow game developers, the Committee, and especially the gamers, who gave me the opportunity to be here.” This garners more applause. “I have to say, when I first started working on Salvage Rights, I never in a million years thought I’d be here, in the most prestigious gaming event, receiving the greatest award an indie game can receive, but I guess I was proven wrong.”

The room fills with laughter and you sigh in relief. Good, they seem to be liking your speech.

(As they should. You revised it over a dozen times and practiced it in front of your stuffed toys at least fifty times.)

“When I first got into video games, it was just because I was a kid who was fascinated by being able to play on a DS anytime, anyplace. Now, I’m into video games because they are the new medium of art. Think about it, there are games out there that have stories that would made Shakespeare weep, music worthy of being performed in symphonies, and art styles that should be studied by artists hundred years from now. It’s a medium that transcends all others that have come before it.”

More applause. Good, they like it.

“I first started work on Salvage Rights not long after my fifteenth birthday, nine years to the day that I unfortunately lost my Momma to a drunk driver.” You see many people in the audience take notice at this, clearly not expecting to hear something so tragic. “At the time, I was living in a place that neglected me; from the day I first arrived, I was treated like I didn’t exist and any attempts I made to get their attention was ignored.” Clearly your words resonate with people, because you can see a few people tearing up.

“I had someone there I could rely on, and he made those times more bearable, but he couldn’t get rid of that feeling of loneliness that I had felt for years and all I wanted was for my Momma to walk through that door and take me back home. But no matter how much I hoped and prayed, she never came and my loneliness only got worse with each day.

“My only escape from those days were video games. While in real life, I was a nobody in that house, but I was able to dive into one game where I was a noble hero who was destined to defeat the embodiment of evil, or dive into another game where I tamed the mightiest of beasts and triumph over the strongest of champions, or dive into one game where i could master every life skill possible and bring light to a world facing eternal darkness. It was during those days that I learned that games provided an escape from the confines of reality, if only for a little bit. And that’s when I realized I wanted to create a game that could allow someone to escape reality and become the best version of themselves.”

There’s definitely a couple people on the audience crying at this point.

(You have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Time to reel them in.)

“So, I want to thank each and every one of you, both those in this room and watching across the globe, for giving my game a chance and allowing me to fulfill my dream. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

The room explodes into applause and cheers, even a few whistles. I shake hands with the MC once more walk off stage and cross the room back to your seat, shaking hands and receiving pats on the back the entire time.

(A resounding success,) the Megamycete says as you sit down. (They hung on your every word. After tonight, everyone will know of your talent and many will beg for the opportunity to work on their newest project, offering you the world in exchange for your expertise. As they should.)

“Easy, buddy, you’re gonna give me one hell of an ego at this rate.”

(It is only naturally to think so highly of yourself. Compared to everyone in this room, you are a god.)

The rest of the ceremony features trailers for games releasing in the near future and announcements for new titles, making a note to keep an eye on many of them for you to buy on release or pre-order when they become available.

After the ceremony, you follow the rest of the developers to the Developer’s Lounge, a room that’s lavishly decorated and fully stocked with a wide array of food and drinks being served by a dozen waiters, all of it courtesy of Lex Luthor, who is currently talking to a group of triple-A executives, his bodyguard close behind him; many of your peers and various VIPs are already eating, drinking, and talking with other developers, game journalists (ugh), or their personal guests. You gratefully accept a champagne flute from a passing waiter and make your way around the room, looking around for any sign of Alfred.

“Where is he,” you mutter to yourself, scanning the room.

“Mr. Y/N Gould,” a masculine voice calls out to you, making you turn to the source: a tall, blue eyed man wearing a pair of black framed glasses, a grey jacket over a dark blue tie and light blue button up shirt, navy blue pants, and black loafers.

(We sense a spike in your heart rate. Are you alright?)

Oh, you’re better than alright. Some attractive man knows your name and wants to speak to you.

(You are attracted to this man. This is the first time we have ever experienced infatuation firsthand. We look forward to seeing this interaction unfold.)

“Yes,” you say, managing to find your voice. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” the man responds, raising his hand and you accept.

It’s then you notice the feel of something metallic and when you glance at his hand, you see a gold wedding band.

Damn it.

(We grieve the loss of your potential mate.)

Oh well, always lots of fish in the sea.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Kent?”

“Yes, the Daily Planet was hoping to write an article on the winner of the winner of the Indie Game of the Year. Is there anyway I can talk you into doing an interview?”

(He can still be of use to you. By doing this interview, he can help you find you a worthy mate.)

Great, now you have sentient mold trying to play matchmaker. Well, at least you’ll be able to get more people interested in your game. The Daily Planet’s the biggest paper in Metropolis and has decent following around the country.

“I hope you can wait a little while for that interview, Kent.”

You freeze at the new voice, a voice you haven’t heard in over four years. You hope that, somehow, you’ve made some huge mistake and it’s not who you think it is. You then realize that the entire room’s gone silent, sans a few whispers, and now all eyes are on you and the newcomer behind you, Clark chief among them.

You realize that your breathing and your heartbeat have ceased, and the pit of anxiety and fear from earlier has returned, but there’s now rage included in that mix; rage you haven’t felt in over four years. Rage that finally went away when you finally escaped Gotham and put it and Wayne Manor in your rearview mirror.

You feel a hand grasp your left shoulder and out of the corner of your eye, see a tall figure come to a stop to your right. You slowly turn your head to fae the figure and look up to see your worst nightmare: Bruce Fucking Wayne looking down at you, his signature fake ass smile adorning his stupid mug and a champagne flute similar to yours in hand.

He’s dressed far too formal for an event about video games, wearing a designer black suit with matching pants that probably cost more than your car. You can dig through all your memories of the man and never find one instance of the man wearing anything casual. And that smile of his, the one he always flashes to his insufferable blue-blooded friends; you want to punch him so hard in the face that every last tooth shatters, but you manage to put a lid on that urge.

If only just barely.

(What is this shameless heathen doing here,) the Megamycete hisses. (The audacity of this creature to show up on the best night of your life and ruin it. You should kill him. Immediately.)

Right now, you’re really tempted to give him the Joker Treatment.

“I’m afraid Y/N and I have much to talk about.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark stampers out. “Do you know Mr. Gould?”

“I would say so,” he responds in that fake cheery tone he only reserves for galas and paparazzi, those “honeyed words” so disgustingly sweet and fake it makes you want to vomit. Preferably on him. He tries to pull you closer to him, but you’re able to resist it no problem thanks to the Megamycete. “He’s my son.”

And like that, the crowd around you descends into chaos, many of them loudly talking among themselves while others take out their phones and cameras and begin snapping pictures of the two of you, and so many media types are shouting questions towards you and him.

But all that doesn’t really phase you. Right now, you feel as if the world has crumbled around you and now you’re left free falling in an endless void, doomed to spend the rest of eternity in this sort of purgatory.

You’re frozen where you stand, unable to look anywhere else but at the face of the man you hate with your entire being and as you look into those eyes of his, every single memory of your stay at Wayne Manor flashes before your eyes; you’re overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness, loneliness, pain, and humiliation you were forced to deal with during those twelve long, horrible years. Right now, it takes every bit of restraint and willpower you have to not let all the thoughts you have of ripping this bastard’s head off and kicking it so far that every NFL team in the country would offer you fifty million in advance if you signed on with them become reality.

(You should do it. Kill this man. Teach him the meaning of pain. Let him feel all the pain he and his flock have caused you for years and despair. Make him regret ever taking you for granted.)

Ok, your usual voice of reason is now howling for blood. This does not bold well for you.

“Mr. Wayne,” you finally respond, finding the strength to keep your voice steady and not cause a scene (or at least a bigger one than he has already); you brush his hand off your shoulder, making a mental note to burn these clothes (damn it, you paid good money for these). “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, I’m definitely not your son. Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink? Wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. You should sit down before you make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of all these people.”

His smile falls and you can see the hurt shine in his eyes for a fraction of a second. He’s an expert at concealing his emotions, so for you to do something like that makes you giddy.

“Y/N,” he pathetically responds as he reaches out to you, but you take a step back. “I am—“

“You’re a sperm donor, nothing more, Mr. Wayne,” you hiss, revealing in the hurt expression that breaks out on his face. It’s probably fake, a stunt to pull for the crowd, but you don’t care. You’ve held all these feelings in for years and now that you have the chance to give this son of a bitch a piece of your mind, you’re taking it. “You’re not my dad and I’m sure as hell not your son!”

“Y/N, I know I wasn’t the best father to you, but—“

You lose it at that. All the abuse and misery and neglect you had to deal with from him and his kids for over ten years, and he has the nerve to say he “knows” anything about how you feel? In a swift motion, you throw your champagne at him, dousing his face in the clear-yellowish drink that quickly pours down his neck and soaks his expensive black jacket.

The crowd gasps at this, but you absolutely couldn’t give a shit. This was to be the best night of your life and he had to go and ruin it by daring to show his hideous face and dare to have a conversation with you. Fuck, he probably took Alfred’s place, so you had no one here to share in your big moment, something that makes you even more pissed off.

Throwing your champagne at him only made your rage burn hotter, demanding to inflict as much pain and suffering on this man that you’ve suffered for years. You quickly close the gap between you two, deliver a harsh right hook to the right side of the man’s jaw and follow up by shoving the man as hard as you can (though still holding back a lot of strength so you don’t reveal what you really are), causing him to topple to the floor, landing on his ass.

At this rate, you don’t really care what people say about you after this, all you care about is hurting him. You look down at the pathetic wretch at your feet and love the look of horror and pain etched on his face, reveling in the terror in his eye and the blood dripping from his closed mouth.

(Yes,) the Megamycete screams. (More. More. Make him hurt. Make him bleed. Make him realize who the superior one is.)

“Someone call an ambulance, this asshole’s gonna need one,” you growl, pouncing towards the man who made you lose the best years of your life, ready to pound his face so hard that they’ll have to rely on fingerprints to identify him.

Just then, you’re caught in mid-air and when you look behind you, it’s Clark, his arms wrapped around your waist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Mr. Gould,” he says in a tone like he’s trying to soothe a startled animal (which isn’t too far off the mark). “Please, control yourself.”

You don’t want to. In front of you is the man who treated you like shit from the day you two met, making you wish you were in the car when your Momma died so that you never met him. This was suppose to be your night — your moment of triumph — and he had to go and ruin it. And you want nothing more than to put this man in a full body cast, and that’s you being generous.

But when you see the look of total shock on his face, and everyone in the crowd who has the same expression, your rage finally cools down. Not because you feel guilty over what you did to Bruce, you were ready to reduce him to a bloody red paste, but because everyone just saw your absolute worst.

You go slack in Clark’s hold and that’s when he finally lets you go, having to command the mold to reinforce your leg bones to keep you standing because without it, you’re ready to collapse form the burst of energy you just burned through.

“Is there a problem here,” Lex says as he emerges from the crowd, Mercy following close behind. He glances down at Bruce and a ghost of a smirk appears on his face.

“I have an axe to grind with him,” you say, doing your best to even out your voice. “I’m sorry for making a scene.”

“What about pushing Mr. Wayne,” Lex asks, motioning to the man.

“No, that’s something I’m very proud of.”

You can see Bruce flinch at that and it makes you feel good.

“Well, it’s always a pleasure to see Bruce Wayne be taken down a peg,” the man chuckles. He then turns to the rest of the crowd. “Alright, show’s over, everyone. Go back to your own business.”

Slowly but surely, the crowd breaks up and the party resumes, but you can definitely tell many of the media types are still looking at you and Bruce and are no doubt chomping at the bit to talk to either of you, many of them furiously typing on their phones, probably texting their bosses and sending whatever pictures and videos they took.

“Mr. Gould, I’d be honored if you would give me a few minutes of your time.” He extends his arm as if you were a woman. “I have much I’d like to talk with you about.”

You discreetly glance down at Bruce, who looks like he’s ready to do to Lex what you did to him a minute ago. You know that Lex is only doing this to piss off Bruce, his biggest business rival, and is probably using you in hopes of getting some speck of dirt on Bruce and maybe even some Wayne Enterprises secrets.

And god damn it if the thought of that doesn’t make you giddy.

“Of course,” you say in a sweet tone of voice, looping your arm in Lex’s. “The honor would be mine.”

He leads you towards a private area of the lounge and as you pass by Bruce, who’s still on the floor, you glance over at him and give him a dirty look, making it clear that you hate his guts and the next time he tries something like this, you won’t hold back.

You don’t know what Bruce wants and why he’s suddenly showed up after four years of your leaving, but chances are he’s only here to serve his own agenda and you want nothing to do with him or his crazy ass family. You have your own life and are finally happy for the first time in years, and you’ll be damned if you’ll allow all your hard work to be destroyed.

If it comes down to it, you’ll wage war against him and the rest of the Bats.

(Yes, clip their wings. Tear them to shreds. Grind them into powder. Tear down everything that they are and leave nothing behind so they are forgotten by the world.)

Bruce watches as you and Lex wonder off to some desolate corner of the lounge, simultaneously plotting an attack on Lex Corp that will hot Luthor hard and replaying his interaction with you, going through millions of different ways that could’ve gone better. Or at least, not ended with you almost tearing him limb from limb, the only thing saving him was Kent’s intervention.

Ok, maybe approaching you like Brucie Wayne, millionaire playboy philanthropist, was a bad idea, but it was the only way he could think of that wouldn’t scare you off. He really thought that talking to you with his usual charm and bravado would’ve at least given him a chance to talk to you.

All it got him was a look into your temper.

Fuck, the look of pure rage and disgust in your eye the entire time you talked to him. Right now, he just wants to curl up and die, but he also wants to scoop you up into his arms, hug you tightly, and beg for your forgiveness, no matter how much of a fool he made of himself or how much you bite, scratch, and hit him.

It’s then he thinks back on you shoving him and it’s then he realizes it doesn’t make any sense. He’s a solid six-foot-two, way taller than you and while he would never call you weak, you definitely aren’t a bodybuilder, so he should’ve been able to withstand your shove no problem. But he’s been fighting against beings with super strength all his adult life, so he knows the difference between a strong human and a Meta.

But you’re not a Meta, right? He’s spent the last twenty-four hours digging up every piece of information he can on you, your medical records from Southern Hills Hospital being one of the first things he delved into. When you were born, you were a healthy baby boy, no signs of illness and certainly no trace of the Meta Gene. He even has your medical records during your time in Gotham (Alfred being the one to take you to all your appointments because he certainly didn’t do it), and everything points to you being in perfect health.

So, how were you able to shove him like that, a man who goes toe-to-toe with the likes of Bane on a regular basis?

“Are you ok, Bruce,” Clark asks, extending his hand to help him up.

“I’m fine,” he responds, brushing the hand aside and getting up on his own.

“Pardon me if I don’t believe that, I could tell you were shaken up by that.”

If there’s one skill Bruce prides himself on, it’s his ability to conceal his emotions, able to hide his true feelings from anyone and everyone, even from telepaths such as Martian Manhunter.

But seeing how his son, his baby boy, feels about him made him forget his control. Him not being able to hide the pain he felt when you lashed out at him, clearly holding a lot of anger and resentment towards him, was one of the few experiences that has shaken him to his core.

“Mr. Wayne,” Vicky Vale says as she emerge from the crowd and approaches them. “Care to make a statement on what just happened?”

It takes everything he has to not let out a groan. Of course, Vicky Vale is always there whenever some drama happens to either him or his children in public. She had a field day with him when he she asked about his bruises and limp he got last time he fought Killer Croc and he had to play it off as some really kinky sex he and some supermodel had.

“Not now, Vicky,” he responds, leading Clark closer to where you and Lex walked off to. “I have a prior engagement with Mr. Kent here.”

“I didn’t know you had a son before Damian,” Clark whispers as they walk.

“Let’s just say I did everything wrong when it came to him,” he responds back, keeping his voice low. “I found out I screwed up and came here to try to make amends. You know how that ended.”

“I know, we all had front row seats to that. Also, I’ve been listening to his and Lex’s conversation the entire time.”

“What’s that bastard saying to him,” he hisses, pissed off beyond words that snake is talking to you, his baby boy.

“So far, Y/N’s just trash talking you, calling you every name in the book and angry that you ruined his big night.”

Bruce winces at that. He knew it’s Alfred you want here to share in your achievement, but he couldn’t miss this night, not when he’s missed so much of your life. To see you, smiling on stage and acting so humble after wining an award as important as that was absolutely mesmerizing.

Of course, your speech hit him like a freight train. He knew he wasn’t the father you deserved, but to hear you talk about your time with him so poorly was more than he was prepared to handle. Of course you miss your mother and he’s glad you think so highly of her, but is there really nothing he can do to make you reconsider giving him another chance? To give his family another chance?

“Lex is now offering to be a benefactor to Gould Games; Y/N have total creative license on all projects and would be given a massive office in one of Metropolis’ premiere high-rises.”

“In exchange for WE secrets, no doubt.”

The thought of you and Lex working together makes him sick. The man is a snake and wouldn’t hesitate to betray you if it benefitted him in any way. If you need money for your new games, he’d be more than happy to do it! You could be a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises with as large a budget as you want, with your choice of office in Wayne Tower or around Gotham. You’d have all the best computers and software that money could buy and if you need to hire more people, you can choose all the people you want and he’d personally arrange for them to be flown to Gotham, ready to work as soon as possible.

“That’s right,” Clark responds. “Don’t worry, he turned him down. Looks like you won’t be losing nay more money to Lex this year.”

“Y/N doesn’t know anything.”

As sad as it is, that’s the truth; you’d been shut out by all of them that you couldn’t give any of his secrets away. Hell, you don’t even know that you’ve been living with Gotham’s vigilantes.

“He’s been kept in the dark about everything,” he mutters as he looks at you, chatting away with Metropolis’ biggest wannabe.

Maybe he should tell you that he and your siblings are Gotham’s vigilantes? Not that it’s any excuse with how they treated you for yeas, but with any hope, it would make you more understanding on why they were always so busy and at least consider talking with them.

Just then, Clark winces at something Lex just said.

“What,” he snaps.

“Lex just invited him for dinner. And based off his tone, he has more in mind than just business.”

And with that, all he can see is red and he’s filled with rage at the bald bastard.

“Bruce, wait,” Clark calls out as he stops over to where you are.

“Bruce,” Lex says with a smirk as he approaches the both of you. “I hope you’re not looking for another beating from Y/N.”

He looks over to you, your expression clearly indicating you’re visualizing beating the hell out of him right now.

“Of course not, I just wanted to extend an invitation to him for dinner. It’s been forever since we had a father-son dinner.”

“We’ve never had dinner together before,” you snarl.

“His loss, I assure you,” Lex responds, giving you a look that makes Bruce want to punch his lights out.

“Y/N has nothing you want, Lex,” Bruce growls, trying to keep his anger from getting the best of him. “Leave him alone.”

“I disagree, Bruce. Y/N is charming, witty, and a delightful to be around.” He has a twinkle in his eye that makes Bruce even angrier. “He definitely takes after his mother.”

Bruce opens his mouth to spit some insult at the fucker, but you intervene.

“Yes, Momma raised me well,” you say, looking right at him before looking back at Lex. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Luthor, but I’m afraid I’m heading back home first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe the next time I’m in the area?”

“I’m certainly hoping that will be soon.” He pulls out a card and hands it to you. “My personal phone number and email. The next time you come to Metropolis, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me and I’ll see to it you’re afforded every luxury this city has to offer.”

“Thank you,” you responded, taking the card and pocketing it. “I certainly hope to visit again soon. Metropolis is way better than Gotham. Hard to believe that cesspit is its sister city.”

He winces hearing your clear disdain for his city, the home of his family. Your rightful home.

“Indeed,” Lex chuckles. “Gotham is so painfully outdated in every respect it’s almost funny. If I had my way, all of its archaic structures would be torn down and replaced for more modern and aesthetically pleasing replacements.”

“That style is Gotham,” Bruce growls, unable to put up with the disrespect of his city. “Gotham has resembled its current form for over a hundred years now. It’s a reflection of its storied past.”

“A storied past of misery and insanity,” you respond. “Gotham isn’t a place where good people end up. It’s a spiderweb that slowly drains everyone within it of all they have, leaving nothing but empty husks behind. Maybe all of it should be torn down.”

You say the words, but all he hears is his voice. When his parents were killed, he felt the same way about Gotham as you do. It took him years to finally shed his hatred and resentment for the city and see its beauty. As much as you’d probably hate to admit it, you really are his son.

“I’d love to stay and continue this riveting conversation, but I’m afraid I have an appointment across town. He turns to his bodyguard. “Mercy, ready the car.” She nods and leaves. “And Y/N, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in my city. Perhaps you’d allow me the honor of taking you to the airport myself?”

“I’d like that very much, Mr. Luthor,” you say, giving that bastard a smile that makes his blood boil.

“Please, call me Lex.”

“Ok, Lex,” you say with a chuckle.

Oh, he’s going to make Luthor suffer for this. When he gets back to the Batcave, he’s going to plant so many viruses into Luthor’s systems, he’ll spend months recovering a single piece of data.

Finally, the man walks away, leaving you and him alone at last.

“I’ll say this only once, Mr. Wayne,” you say in a tone that shows you mean business. “So listen close: I don’t know what you’re doing here or what you hoped to achieve here, but stay away from me. I’m finally happy for the first time in years and I won’t allow you to fuck it up for me.”

He winces at your words. And the fact that you’re calling him “Mr. Wayne,” like he’s a stranger (though with how he treated you for over ten years, that’s not too far from the truth). He knows that he has no right to be called “dad” or “father,” but you can’t even call him by his name like your siblings do? Do you really hate him that much?

“Y/N, please—“

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, cutting him off. “This is your only warning: stay away from me. I’m not weak like I was when I was first dragged to Gotham. Keep butting in where you don’t belong and I’ll personally reunite you with your parents.”

You go to walk away, but he grabs you by your shoulder. You quickly snap your head to look at him, your expression so full of hate and disgust. He knows this isn’t helping his case, but he can’t let you leave like this; he needs to keep you here so he can talk to you, to beg you for just a few minutes of your time.

You grab his hand with yours and begin squeezing so hard his hand begins to throb and he has to fight to hide his expression of pain from the crowd.

Not only do you not look you visit the gym, but this type of strength is something beyond what a normal human is capable of. Just what secrets do you have?

He meets your gaze and he has to suppress the fear he feels when looking in your eyes. There’s hate in them, no doubt about that, but there’s something else in them. Something dark. It also doesn’t help that you have his mother’s eyes and seeing them look at him that way cuts him to his core.

You shove his hand away from you and you storm off, ignoring as a dozen journalists come up to you and leaving him to stand there, watching you walk away from him and ignoring the throbbing of his hand.

“You ok,” Clark asks after walking up to him.

“No,” he mutters. He looks down at the camera in the Kryptonian’s hand. “Did you take any pictures of him during the ceremony?”

“Yeah,” the reporter responds, holding it up. “I was in the press section of the audience. I got a couple good shots.”

“Send them to me,” he orders while walking off.

Many reporters try to talk to him, but he doesn’t spare them a second glance. Right now, all that matters is planning his next move. You’ve made it very clear that you resent them for how they treated you while you lived with them and while he understands that perfectly, you need to understand that he’s your father and his children are your siblings.

He’s happy that you’ve made a life for yourself in Nevada and are successful in your career as a video game developer, but you’re a Wayne and all Waynes belong in Gotham, under his roof.

He gets his phone out and tells his children to be ready for a family meeting as soon as he returns in the morning. As much as he wants to find a way to bring you back to the fold on his own, he can’t do it alone. With any luck, your siblings will be able to reach you. Hell, he might have to call on Alfred to help bring you home.

He will uncover everything about you (including whatever what you just did) and when he does, he’ll use that knowledge to make you realize you’re son and your rightful place is by his side, where he can keep an eye on you and shield you from the dangers of this world.

One way or another, you’ll come back to Gotham and when you do, he and you’ll siblings will shower you in the love you deserve. And after that, they’ll throw the biggest gala ever, with you as the centerpiece, and show you off as the most important member of the Wayne Family; all of Gotham elite will climb over one another in hopes of courting you, but he and you siblings will never allow them to come anywhere close to you as you won’t need anyone but them to keep you company.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes or what he has to do, he’ll learn your secrets (as is his birthright) and lead you back to where you belong.

Even if he has to drag you back home by your ankles.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @v0idl1nq @diejager @solelifauna @bunbunbread @ratchetprime211 @ellaprime7 @fantasyhopperhea @exactlynumberonekryptonite @bellethesleepypotato @roseytheteacup @orbitingtraveler @lunaluz432

[saphronethaleph]

Nothing Succeeds Like Succession

“Your hatred, your anger,” Sheev Palpatine said, chuckling in what he probably thought was a kindly fashion. “You want to kill me… that is what I want. Kill me, and my spirit will pass into you.”

Rey frowned.

“...I have several questions,” she said. “Firstly, uh… are you trans? Because there are more ethical ways to transition. I’m sure there must be less ethical ways as well, but I’m having trouble thinking of one right now.”

“What?” Palpatine said. “No. I’m not. I have access to matchless genetic engineers and the ability to transfer my spirit into a new body. Cease this nonsense.”

“You have to admit, it’s the first thing to come up,” Rey countered.

“I have to admit no such thing,” Palpatine said, crossly.

“Right,” Rey disagreed. “Anyway, moving on… how does that work, exactly?”

Palpatine tutted.

“I have the ability to transfer my spirit into another body,” he reiterated. “Like this one.”

“So that isn’t the body you were in when you were thrown down a shaft overlooking the Death Star reactor?” Rey asked. “Because, honestly, it looks like it was. If you were going to make a body why would it look like it was over a hundred years old and had been blown up at least once?”

“Because-” Palpatine began, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter!”

“Only, I’ve heard about the Kaminoan clones,” Rey went on. “And I get that the average one would be physically about a hundred and thirty by now, but if your genetic engineers were matchless I just think you could have done, you know… yourself at forty years old.”

She shook her head. “But that’s not the important bit, not really. If you can transfer your spirit into another body, how does that work?”

“All the Sith live in me,” Palpatine said, in case Rey hadn’t heard that.

“That isn’t actually a very useful explanation,” Rey objected. “In fact, so far I haven’t heard anything that indicates you’re not just an insane clone who assumed he was my grandfather.”

“Insolent girl!” Palpatine snapped, then brought his temper under control. “It works, because it has worked for a thousand years. It is the Banite way.”

Rey looked blank.

“...the Rule of Two?” Palpatine tried. “The rule that there are always only two Sith, no more, and no less?”

“Okay,” Rey said. “Who’s the other one?”

Palpatine was silent for a moment.

“The position is open,” he conceded. “Open for you, my granddaughter! Strike me down and become the eternal Sith!”

“At which point there would still only be one,” Rey pointed out, helpfully. “What does Banite mean?”

“It is the way of the Sith!” Palpatine said.

“Helpful,” Rey said. “Well… actually, no, not helpful. Completely unhelpful.”

Palpatine sighed.

“Darth Bane was the last survivor of the Sith, somewhat more than a thousand years ago,” he said, with a semblance of patience. “To put an end to the infighting that had led the Sith to lose the war with the Jedi, he imposed the Rule of Two. That rule is that there will be a Master, to embody power, and an Apprentice, to strive for it. Eventually the Apprentice grows strong, and attempts to take power from the Master.”

Palpatine chuckled. “If the Apprentice is defeated, they were not strong enough. If the Apprentice wins, and slays their Master, then the power of the Master flows into the Apprentice – and the Master live on, in the new Master. And the cycle continues. So all Sith will live as one.”

“...I still have several questions,” Rey said.

Palpatine rolled his eyes.

“Of course you do,” he said. “And no doubt they will be as tiresome and tedious as your previous ones.”

“Who are you, then?” Rey asked. “Are you Sheev Palpatine?”

“Yes,” Palpatine answered. “Of course. You know this.”

“Just checking,” Rey replied. “Because it’s that or you’re Darth Bane. But you talked about Darth Bane in the third person. In the past tense. Which I think means that if this actually happened the you who’s speaking wouldn’t be the Master. Someone else would be.”

Palpatine looked vaguely troubled, then shook his head.

“It matters not!” he said. “You will strike me down, you will become Empress, and we will be one!”

“I’ve already pointed out some flaws there,” Rey countered. “But there’s something else, too. The way you described it, with the Apprentice killing the Master – that’s the way it’s worked for a thousand years?”

“For a thousand years!” Palpatine confirmed.

“It’s always been a Sith apprentice?” Rey pressed. “Always someone using the Dark Side of the Force?”

“Of course!” Palpatine declared. “We were secret from the Jedi for all that time!”

“Then it doesn’t actually sound like you know how this works very well,” Rey said. “You’ve been assuming that my striking you down would turn me into a Sith. But that’s not what happens when you strike down a Sith.”

Palpatine frowned.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” Rey replied. “The Jedi and the Sith went to war in the past, and the Jedi won. Which would be impossible if striking down a Sith made you a Sith. It’s just that up to this point all the people who this ritual has happened to are Sith. It doesn’t turn them into Sith, they were already Sith.”

She waved her hand. “The idea that killing a Sith makes you fall to the Dark Side actually sounds so ridiculously convenient for the Sith that I bet they’d say it a lot.”

“...Anakin Skywalker was not a Sith when he killed Count Dooku,” Palpatine said, reluctantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure if it was good or bad for his own argument. “And he fell to the Dark Side.”

“I’ve heard a lot about him,” Rey replied. “Mostly from Ben, who I think is a Vader superfan, he spent months using our weird connection to talk about it.”

“...what weird connection?” Palpatine asked.

“Oh, and just to be clear,” Rey added. “I know about the Force Lightning.”

Palpatine was distracted from the distraction from his original topic, and blinked at Rey.

“What,” he asked.

“I know about the Force Lightning,” Rey reiterated, drawing both lightsabers – Leia’s one and the Skywalker lightsaber. “You’re both armed and a man who’s credibly declared war on the whole galaxy, which I think makes you hostis sapiens generis.”

“Strike me down, and-” Palpatine said, and Rey did, on both the previously stated grounds and also because as an extremely old man who was literally asking for it it was probably more expedient than going to a specialist clinic.

“Rey?” Ben asked, a couple of minutes later, as he entered the underground room. “I get the idea you’re here?”

He waved the blue lightsaber around. “Thanks for this, by the way, because, uh… otherwise I really would have had trouble with my old followers. Just wondering, what was going on?”

“Oh, right,” Rey replied. “I should probably explain. Shut up.”

“Huh?” Ben asked.

“Not you, them,” Rey replied. “Since I passed you the lightsaber they’ve all been going on about a mythical dyad. I’ve got about… twenty Sith Lords in my head now.”

“Are you all right?” Ben said, worried. “How did that even happen?”

“I struck Palpatine down,” Rey replied. “Which, as he warned me, meant that the Sith passed into me… but, as they apparently didn’t realize, that doesn’t actually give them control or make me evil or anything. It’s just that everyone who’d done it before was a Sith.”

Ben absorbed that.

“Huh,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I may need psychological counselling,” Rey replied. “But I’ve heard of intrusive thoughts and I think this doesn’t really rise much above that. Anyway, I’ve given the proper succession codes and told the Final Order to stop trying to shoot down the Resistance… any idea what I should do next?”

That made Ben pause.

“You’ve got twenty Sith Lords giving you suggestions?” he asked, still a bit hung up on that.

“Yes, but none of them are helpful in this situation,” Rey replied. “Plagueis, for example, is telling me to cut their pay, and I can’t even tell if that’s a good or bad move here because my main concept of money is dehydrated muffin portions.”

Ben had the feeling he had a very strange expression on his face right then.

“...dehydrated muffin portions?” he asked.

“Jakku was not a particularly pleasant place to grow up,” Rey replied. “And Sidious isn’t shutting up about how Naboo was just as bad because it had aliens. I think my grandfather’s mostly just racist.”

She shrugged. “Still, plus side, now the Sith are having an argument about which species is the best, so that should get them out of my hair for a while…”

[10yrratiolover]

giving my thoughts and ideas on Ratio's character stories

I wouldn't call this much of an analysis but we'll see how it goes

Starting out with his first character story, most of it is Professor Rond's recommendation letter.

I'd like to start by sharing my thoughts about Ratio and Rond first before actually getting into dissecting the letter itself.

So, firstly, I'd like to mention that (to my knowledge) we have never heard of or from Ratio's parents. I find that ironic considering what a big shot he is, I doubt that his parents would ever willingly shut up about their son.

Reading that Rond had a 'significant influence on Ratio's upbringing' particularly stands out to me because, at least at the time of the original letter being written, Ratio was in secondary school (Grade 9-12, though some of the wording in the letter lead me to believe he was likely on the lower end of that range).

Now, a high school teacher having a 'significant influence' on someone's upbringing isn't necessarily uncommon, nor are old teachers proud of their past students becoming extremely successful. However these points, alongside the fact that Ratio's parents are nowhere to be seen in canon, lead me to believe that there was some sort of familial relationship between them, especially seeing Rond's reaction to being asked about Ratio as well as how he had kept the original letter.

Moving on to the actual letter.

Grade skipping is a pretty common practice where I'm from, as it allows learning at the appropriate/needed level (ignoring the fact that the school system is in shambles).

However, the way this is phrased is as if Rond were trying to convince him to be able to skip grades. If he were in grade 11 or 12 I feel like it would not have been phrased this way, which is what leads me to believe he was likely younger, possibly fresh out of middle school.

The highlight on creativity is just because it makes me smile honestly, also it ties into one of my earlier posts about how I think Ratio would adore the subject of art.

I would like to return to my point of Rond being a potential parental figure to Ratio, seeing as he seems to know his daily routine well enough to confidently write about it in his letter of recommendation.

On to his second character story, which is mostly online posts in a thread-like format.

It wasn't until his eighth doctoral degree that he was awarded with First Class Honors, also since he is the first person to receive such in two amber eras it means he was likely the only one on stage at that time.

It also states that at the time he was already a prominent figure in society, which doesn't surprise me given the accomplishments listed by Rond in the letter despite him being in high school at the time it was written. However, he would most likely be an adult by the time he finished his eighth doctorate.

No real comment on this I found it funny that they put etc instead of continuing to list fields.

I also just find these funny and wanted to share them, but the disagreement on the last comment shows how much people admire him. I feel like that's a topic that's rather watered down in the fandom, but people genuinely admire Ratio a lot and there's plenty of reason for them to.

full-time university teachers tend to teach about 5 courses per academic year, meaning Ratio has been teaching for about 10 years.

Moving onto the third story, which is a statement from a former assistant of his about his desire to join the genius society.

I find this to be an interesting point, it seems like joining the Genius Society would be an obvious next step for a man with so many accomplishments but it's stated not once, but twice that he has never spoken about the subject (to the public at least).

I am a believer in the theory that Ratio hasn't been allowed into the Genius Society due to his humanity/compassion and his desire to spread knowledge to everyone, and I feel like this specification that he's never spoken about the topic could add to this theory.

This paragraph never fails to break my heart, but I do want to talk about the mention of an anti-planetary weapon. I feel like this Anti-planetary weapon that he spent years perfecting was a final attempt at proving to Nous that he wasn't too compassionate or too humane to receive their gaze. I remember reading about this idea more in detail elsewhere and if I can find the analyzation then I'll link it here.

Also, I feel like deep down he always knew that he wouldn't be accepted into the Genius Society, but this day, as Margaret states, was the day he finally realized it, or, fully swallowed that pill.

I find these comments to be interesting as well since they specify the narrow-mindedness of the society however, there is this comment from the Data Bank;

This comment I admittedly stumbled across when looking for something else, but I feel like it perfectly encapsulates Ratio's entire dilemma with the Genius Society, maybe not to Ratio himself but it certainly applies to everyone who comments on his achievements being worthy of Nous' approval.

I am also quite curious about who exactly wrote the 'Decoding Dr. Ratio' that we have read from in all of his character stories. They seem to have a lot of connections for someone who would typically be seen as just another paparazzi or media interviewer, I'm surprised the people listed in his stories would agree to an interview.

Onto his final story, which is about his personality and methods of sharing knowledge.

I mentioned this comment in my character notes post but I find it extremely charming that Ratio remains the same and refuses to change himself or his personality to satisfy those around him.

It is also commented in his second character story by a previous professor of his that his honesty and straightforwardness were a 'Breath of fresh air' at the University.

I love the implication that either; nobody in the entire room had any questions (unlikely), or that they were simply too scared to ask them.

I also find the comment that 'Whenever someone agrees with me, I feel like I must be wrong.' Perhaps he's gotten used to being the only one thinking the way he is or the possibility that people only agree with him so they sound intelligent themselves and weren't truly listening or understanding.

I find these comments interesting as well, a majority of the fandom mischaracterizes Ratio as mean or rude although he literally explains his viewpoints where anyone can access it (which does honestly prove his point about how knowledge is not for everyone.)

[vivid-ink]

"Show Me & Teach Me"

Part II - "I Like Your Stars Better"

Neteyam Sully / fem!Omatikaya OC Part II Summary: Seyla reflects on being designated tsakarem and Neteyam finally gives her her first lesson in and first taste of sensuality.

Content: SMUT 18+ MDNI, angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman. Show Me & Teach Me: Part I here

Part I Fic 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…

Word count: 6.8k

Notes: Welcome back to all my lovelies who followed Part I and hello to everyone who is new onboard! :) You'll notice a change in POV in this part. I wrote Part I in second-person POV using the pronoun 'you' as the reader. For stylistic purposes, and also for ease of getting multiple character perspectives, I have written Part II from third-person POV using my OC's name Seyla. For those that enjoy Neteyam x Reader-Inserts, you are still Seyla! Her perspective is still yours, just as I hope anyone reading it in third-person is able to still connect and feel what Seyla feels. Without further ado; ENJOY Part II! There is a whole lotta SPICY HEAT in this.

The tension in the healers’ hut was thick enough to slice.

Seyla swore she could feel the heat of the other young woman’s glower blistering the skin of her turned back. Any hotter and her waist-length braids would catch fire. The jarring clack of a knife striking unforgiving and hard against a wooden chopping board was just another addition to the already edgy atmosphere. Seyla sighed with a silent roll of her eyes. Would this tantrum never end?

The pronouncement by Mo’at and the clan council that she had been chosen as tsakarem had been met with positive endorsement by most people. There were some who still held reservations for various reasons. Some still doubted her capabilities, which was fair considering how long it had taken her to pass her rites of passage. Others felt she was too timid to lead the clan as tsahìk. However, Seyla knew that for the woman who sat violently obliterating fruit behind her, it was pure, undiluted envy that instigated her opposition.

Vitani was Mo’at’s other young apprentice. There had been an unspoken assumption for a long time that it would be Vitani who would be designated as tsakarem. Seyla herself had believed this, never thinking for a moment that she would even be considered for the role. But evidently the tsahìk had more faith in her than she had in herself and she was determined not to disappoint.

Seyla acknowledged that she was quiet, but her silent nature did not mean she was weak. She just needed to learn to be more direct, and what better time to practise this than the present?

“Is everything alright, Vitani?” Seyla called nonchalantly over her shoulder.

The harsh chopping ceased for several moments before it resumed with renewed vehemence. Nevertheless, Vitani answered in a tone that oozed with derision, “Yes, things have never been better.”

Stopping her own task of peeling some yalnabark tubers, Seyla turned to face Vitani, meeting her peer’s scowl head on, “You had better take care or your fingers may end up severed alongside the fruit, sister.”

The knife clattered against the board as it was released carelessly from Vitani’s hold, “What? You think that because now you’ve netted a big fish you can boss me around?”

Seyla fought the urge to shrink under Vitani’s piercing gaze, but she refused to back down, “My concern for you was genuine.”

“Tell me, sister, how did you lure him in?” Vitani jeered, leaning forward with her elbows perched on each of her crossed knees. She folded her hands and rested her chin on them in a mock display of interest, “Neteyam is quite the handsome catch.”

Narrowing her eyes and pinning her ears in irritation at the other woman’s blatant objectification of Neteyam, Seyla hissed, “Neteyam is not some prized object. He’s a person. And it was not his decision alone to make me tsakarem.”

“No, but I’m sure he could have objected if you didn’t appeal to him.” The cock of Vitani’s head was scornful, “So how did you do it? Training you must have been a painstakingly slow ordeal, and I’m sure it isn’t your mute nature that charmed him. Unless, perhaps, your muteness was productive and you used your mouth in other ways to win his favour.”

The lewd insinuation was scandalous and Seyla sucked in a harsh gasp, “How dare you!”

Vitani cackled in malicious glee at getting a rise out of her, “Is that how you repaid him for your lessons? In carnal favours?”

“I did no such thing!”

By Eywa, Seyla could not comprehend how Vitani ever thought herself worthy of being tsakarem with so much bitter animosity in her heart.

At first, Seyla had felt bad and she had understood that Vitani felt slighted. She had tolerated the woman’s sour mood and astringent demeanour, believing that the storm would pass in time. However, it had been weeks now and Vitani only seemed to be getting more hostile.

With a scathing snort, Vitani flicked a stray fruit peel from her shin onto the mat and simpered, “Ah, there’s no need for that level of affront, sister. There’s no shame engaging in such activities. Men are all the same, no matter their station. All easily led around by what’s behind their loincloths.”

Seyla was about to retort that it was not the implication of sexual activities that angered her, but the insinuation that she had only got where she was by engaging in them that did, when the firm clearing of a throat stopped her in her tracks.

Neytiri appeared from around the cloth flaps of the hut’s entrance and while she made no remark, the dark expression she wore and the impatient flick of her tail behind her was sign enough that she had overheard their heated exchange. Vitani blanched as if she had seen a ghost.

Padding into the hut on silent feet, Neytiri was the physical embodiment of grace, as always. Her critical eyes settled on Vitani who immediately dipped her head in respect. “Vitani, I believe the linen out at the washing grove is dry now. Can you please go and fetch it in. I think you need some air.”

With a barely audible squeak of acknowledgement, Vitani shot to her feet and scurried out without a backward glance. Seyla allowed herself a scowl. Coward.

“Oel ngati kameie, Neytiri.” Seyla greeted, her head still dipped sheepishly, embarrassed at the thought of the slanderous comments the woman had just overheard about her son. None of it was true, but the insinuation was no less mortifying for Seyla.

Neytiri returned the greeting warmly and folded herself down to sit by her. She peered over at the girl who had dutifully resumed her peeling work and was deliberately avoiding her gaze, “You are worthy, child. No matter what others might imply or assume.”

“I never did anything like that. Nothing inappropriate happened while I was in training.” The words burst from Seyla in a torrent and she was unsure of why she even felt like she needed to reiterate the facts to defend herself.

A husky chortle rang out from Neytiri who fixed her with a knowing expression, “I think you forget who I am. Your karyu is my son and the tsahìk who appointed you is my mother. I know them both like the backs of my own hands, and they both speak very highly of you. I’m the last person you need to convince of your honour.”

Swallowing the tight lump in her throat, Seyla nodded mutely in acknowledgement. Neytiri’s words were a soothing balm to her nerves. Vaguely, she wondered what Neteyam had told his mother of her. She felt Neytiri’s warm hand settle on one of her wrists then and she instinctively glanced up to meet her kindly gaze.

“You have done well. The spirit of our Great Mother is strong in you.” Neytiri breathed, heartening Seyla with a gentle squeeze of her wrist and an affectionate smile, “And one day, when you and Neteyam are both ready, I will be proud to welcome you into our soaia (family) as a daughter.”

Seyla’s answering grin was reserved, but her heart sang with elation at Neytiri’s words. One day, when she and Neteyam were ready, they would seal their bond before Eywa.

She would be his and he would be hers for eternity.

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Her eyes were wandering naughtily, Seyla knew, and she smirked defiantly to herself. Perhaps it was the cover of darkness after eclipse that made her bolder, but she continued to trace the muscular silhouette of the man above her with her gaze as they climbed.

She watched unapologetically as Neteyam climbed nimbly ahead of her, his lithe limbs scaling the massive tree trunk with an athletic ease she was envious of as he led them towards their intended destination. The tensing and flexing of his muscles as he moved was a stimulating sight, but she firmly maintained that she was not at all sorry for ogling. Not when he was her betrothed now and especially not when they had spent the last few weeks getting very lost in the new scent, sound and feel of each other’s bodies.

Reaching the platform, Seyla watched in anticipation as Neteyam adroitly pulled himself up onto the level plane of it. He turned immediately with a cheerful grin and an outstretched hand, which she took without hesitation, marvelling at the way he proceeded to haul her effortlessly up to join him as if she weighed nothing more than a leaf.

“What do you think?” Neteyam asked, his pride evident in the broad set of his chest and shoulders as he beamed at her.

Seyla glanced inquisitively around her, making a quick assessment of her surroundings.

The platform was an impressive textile. It had been skilfully interwoven with the perfect balance of softer cloth fibres, sinewy vines and dried palm strands to form a large, flat hammock that retained the breadth of its spread without sinking too much in the middle when weight was impressed upon it. It currently hung suspended from the boughs and branches of the surrounding woodland trees and a matching weave of tsawlapx (unidelta tree) leaves spanned overhead, providing shelter from falling shrubbery and rain.

However, the most breathtaking part of where they were situated was the view and Seyla gasped in delight, “Neteyam this is beautiful.”

This part of the lush woodlands overlooked a steep drop off a cliff on one side before bottoming out and expanding towards more of the verdant treetops of the bioluminescent forest below. The platform had been suspended between the trees closest to the cliff’s edge and out beyond the platform lay the vast expanse of the night sky, adorned with clusters of stars that glimmered bright against their darker milieu.

“Well, I figured we needed somewhere more secluded. More privacy. Away from prying eyes.” Neteyam murmured, his voice dropping both in pitch as well as volume as he watched his little student pace the platform. Seyla still appeared rapt by her surroundings and he was unsure if she had even heard him. No matter, there was no rush. They had all the time in the world up here to explore each other further without the worry of being seen.

Another endearing intake of breath left Seyla as she spotted the clear vessels that had been placed at various points on the platform, illuminating the space with a gentle glow due to their contents. She knelt to pick one up, giggling as the fluttering glowmoths inside them flitted to land where her fingers were wrapped around the confines of their clear prison.

A small pang of woe pricked at Seyla then and she looked over her shoulder toward Neteyam, “We can let them go after, right? They’re not trapped in here?”

Never failing to be touched by her endless compassion, Neteyam nodded, “Of course. The tops of the vessels come off and we’ll let the moths go later. My father calls these vessels jars. The avatar camp has plenty of them and they use them for food storage.”

Seyla could see that small holes had been punctured into the metal tops of the jars allowing for air circulation within them. Satisfied now that her winged friends would come to no harm, she pushed gracefully to her feet again and slipped into Neteyam’s arms where they were waiting to receive her.

Rubbing her cheek against the warmth of his shoulder, Seyla savoured the quiet thud of his heartbeat against her ear and splayed her fingers against his warm back, “The stars look so stunning from up here.”

Neteyam’s next words were a whispered caress by her ear and he ran the tip of his nose along the curve of her neck, inhaling the clean and sweet scent of her, “I like your stars better.” His fingers trailed tantalisingly over the swirling and weaving patterns of the tanhi (bioluminescent freckles) along her spine, and he felt a spear of male satisfaction at the way she shuddered against him.

“What was it you were saying earlier about privacy?” Seyla purred, taking a step back so she could tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

A corner of Neteyam’s mouth upturned in a crooked smile as he perceived the mischievous glint in her eyes. Seyla had always been a studious learner. In her training for her rites she had been true to her word about trying her best. If she had failed to meet a target or if there was room for improvement, she would pick herself up and double down on her efforts. And Neteyam had discovered in recent weeks that she was just as diligent now with their new evening curriculum. 

“I thought we could use a safer space to get to know each other better, get closer without having to keep an eye or an ear out for potential interruptions.” Neteyam said, his voice more a rumble than a sound due to how close they were to each other. He was very aware of her hands, which had snaked from his upper back down lower to skim the tops of his lean rear.

With zero warning, Seyla grasped hold of the base of his tail in one hand and stroked it deliberately. His harsh intake of breath made her giggle and she continued the action, knowing full well it was an erogenous zone as he had done the same to her previously and taught her so.

Weaving the fingers of one hand into Seyla’s braids at the base of her head, Neteyam angled her face towards his and claimed her lips in his. She moaned softly into the meld of their mouths and met his kiss head on, shifting her hands to grip tightly at his shoulders to pull herself up onto the balls of her feet and press closer to him. The next re-angling of their heads brought with it a rough nip as Seyla deliberately caught Neteyam’s bottom lip between her teeth with a gentle, titillating pull.

Hot embers of lust ignited deep within Neteyam’s belly and through his half-lidded eyes he caught the flirty grin dancing on her lips as she nibbled on his. Well, well. It appeared his student had more than passed the first stage of her curriculum… It had not taken Seyla long to acquaint herself with the art of kissing. She had taken to the passionate dancing of their lips like a duck to water and she was proving to be a very fast learner in this arena.

Many of their evenings in the weeks past had been spent trailing their mouths and hands over every bare inch of each other’s bodies; lips moulding to lips, teeth and tongue tasting the skin of neck and chest; fingers tickling ribs or palms pressing hot against thighs and derrieres. They had remained clothed, not trusting that sneaking out into the glade around Hometree was far enough or secluded enough to promise total privacy. And every evening they had spent like this had left them both in a heated mess of slick limbs, their desire searing so hot that it had spurred Neteyam on to building this platform (Lo’ak had helped with many a teasing jibe once he had realised what it was for).

“Somebody is impatient this evening.” Neteyam muttered with a dark chuckle, “What’s happened to my shy student, huh?”

Seyla gave a mock pout and giggled, “You said you’d teach me, karyu. I think I’m ready for my next lesson.”

Neteyam felt the already snug confines of his loincloth constrict even further and he mentally cautioned himself not to get too excited. He did not want to scare her. He had been aroused around her before though. He had been unable to stop it happening considering the last few weeks, with the fervent meeting of their mouths and bodies. There was no way that Seyla could have missed his erections. The solid jut of it was very obvious behind his loincloth, not to mention the rigid press of it against her body as they kissed.

As always with her training, Neteyam let her set the pace and the boundaries, “And what would you like to learn for your next lesson, numeyu (student)?”

Pressing her lips together to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth from desirous anticipation, Seyla held Neteyam’s golden gaze and let her hands drop to the ties of his loincloth, “I want to see all of you tonight, and I want you to see all of me. I want us to touch each other, everywhere.”

Neteyam’s hands stopped hers before Seyla could pull the corded ties of his loincloth free, “Are you sure? We can just focus on you, yawntu. You can show me what you like?”

Stubborn determination flashed in Seyla’s orbs and she reiterated, “No, I want to see you too. We can both teach other what we like.”

“Alright, but there’s no pressure for you to do anything you don’t want to, yeah? We can take things slow-”

“I’m a healer, Neteyam. I’ve seen naked men before. And I know what happens with bodies and sex.”

Neteyam raised a hesitant brow at her. He highly doubted she had seen an aroused naked man before though and there was a difference, “I just don’t want to scare you or make you feel like you have to go further than you’re comfortable with.”

Fixing him with a softer expression, though it was no less adamant than before, Seyla said, “I know I’m safe with you, karyu.”

Great Mother, she had a way of breaking down his resolve when she said things like that… Leaning forward, Neteyam pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Alright.” Neteyam’s own hands moved to the ties of his clothing, his fingers deftly undoing the ties and moving to undo the strap around his tail.

Seyla mirrored him, tugging the ties of her chest covering free first before working on her own loincloth. She felt strangely calm. Her heart was palpitating in her chest, but it was not from anxiety or fear. She trusted Neteyam. He had proven beyond all doubt during her training and afterward that he cared and felt deeply for her. She had no reason to be afraid.

Steadfastly, Seyla discarded her chest covering and freed her tail from her loincloth. Gently bundling her items of clothing together, she tossed them to a corner of the platform. Returning her eyes to Neteyam, she found him already looking at her with slightly wide eyes. He looked rather stunned actually and she resisted the instinctive urge to wrap her arms around her chest. She wanted this and she would not shrink.

Neteyam felt himself ache and burn between his legs as his eyes took in the sight of Seyla’s bare frame. All women were beautiful in their own way and he appreciated them all, but there was something about the innocence of Seyla that made him instantly breathless. Naturally, he was drawn most to the delicate rounds of her breasts. They were not buxom, but they looked just big enough for him to cup in a handful and they were tipped with beautiful lilac nipples.

“Great Mother, you are perfect, Seyla.” Neteyam proclaimed, a little hoarse. However, his student was distracted and not really listening. She appeared to be taking her education rather seriously and she had begun to pace around him slowly as she too soaked in the sight of him.

Majestic was not good enough a word to describe Neteyam, Seyla thought to herself. The customary attire of the Omatikaya did not cover much so, as such, she had technically seen most of his body before tonight anyway. But the comprehension that he was truly naked – that they both were – absolutely thrilled her. She had snuck a glance at his erection when she had first returned her gaze to him and in honesty, she had gotten a little shy then, which is why she had begun to circle him slowly.

Seyla let her eyes rake up the backs of his legs, noticing the nervously twitching tuft of his tail. She admired the lean musculature of his thighs that fed into the very attractive rounds of his bottom. She carried on with her pacing, reaching his other side as she looped back around to his front. His slim hips flared out to defined abdominals, to a broad chest and shoulders, from which hung brawny arms that made his powerful strength evident. She finally let her gaze settle again on the most male part of him and her breath hitched softly.

Neteyam was as imposing there as he was everywhere else, the thick and swollen length of his cock standing upright to easily reach his navel. Seyla was not about to lie to herself; she was intimidated by its impressive size. But growing up she had heard whispers from other women that sex felt amazing; that a man’s body had been designed to fit perfectly with a woman’s, just as Eywa had intended. She supposed she would find out for herself eventually, perhaps in another‘lesson’.

Meeting his eyes again, Seyla chuckled at Neteyam’s dumbfounded state and she took the opportunity to tease him, “Who’s the quiet one now? Come on then karyu, I won’t learn anything if we just stand around all evening.”

Clearing the hoarseness from his throat, Neteyam gestured with a hand to a corner of the platform where he had previously lay some soft throws down, “You lead the way.”

Seyla reached out to take his hand, which surprised him, and she led them both to lie down. She settled her back against the soft blankets and looked expectantly up at him, blinking modestly through dark lashes. She saw him hesitate for a moment before his form bent at the knees into a crouch and he stretched out on his side next to her, propping his head up on an elbow.

“You seem more nervous than I am.” Seyla spoke softly, reaching out to caress his cheek, “One would think you’re the inexperienced one here, but I know that’s not the case. Women talk. Lo’ak talks.”

With an unsuppressed sigh and a shake of his head, Neteyam silently cursed his loose-mouthed brother. While Lo’ak had matured over the years, he was certainly still more ‘fun-and-games’ than he was. Neteyam had never had any intention of hiding the truth of his experience with women – Metkayina females were especially passionate – but he had never had any intention of shouting it from the treetops either. A sentiment not shared by Lo’ak who rather enjoyed regaling anyone who would listen with the adventures he and Neteyam had got up to back in the reefs.

“Does that bother you?” Neteyam asked.

“No. You’re several years older than I am. It would be naïve of me or anyone else to think, at your age, that you haven’t explored such matters with other women.”

“I wasn’t irresponsible or cavalier with any of my former lovers. I left all that rampant fun to Lo’ak. I had always felt something for those I chose to lie with.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me, mighty warrior with a gentle heart?” Seyla remarked and her tone was fond, “Will you kiss me again now, karyu?”

Neteyam did not need to be asked twice. He honoured her request enthusiastically, pouring the depth of what he felt for her into the kisses he proceeded to shower on her lips and neck. His upper body sheltered hers now, though he kept his hips away from her still. Seyla was arching up against him, arching into his touch as his lips and palms began to wander her torso. The sensation of her peaked nipples brushing against his chest sent blazing desire coursing through him and his cock throbbed longingly.

“I’m going to touch you now, OK?” Neteyam gasped in between open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, “But you can tell me to stop at any time if you’re not enjoying what I’m doing.”

A molten heat had started to consume Seyla under Neteyam’s attentions, spreading slowly from the liquescent ache between her legs and outward through her limbs. Her breaths were getting louder and she emitted an involuntary squeal when she felt the rasp of Neteyam’s tongue lick across the stiff nipple of one of her breasts. Her back bowed under her, pushing her soft flesh against his mouth and Neteyam took that as his cue to continue.

The points of her nipples pebbled at his touch and he took one into the searing heat of his mouth, suckling intently on it while the fingers of his left hand toyed with the other. Seyla squirmed, the pleasure shooting from her nipples straight to her core. She had touched herself on occasion, but she had never realised her breasts were so sensitive. Neither she nor Neteyam had touched her core so far tonight, but already she felt the coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter low in her belly.

Seyla’s right hand drifted to the vee of her thighs, easily finding the swollen nub atop her core. She was surprised to find how easily her fingers slid through her folds, so slippery already with the slick of her skyrocketing arousal. Rubbing circles over her clitoris with her slick fingers, Seyla whined piteously as the pleasure pulsed at her core while Neteyam continued his ministrations on her breasts.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Neteyam could see Seyla touching herself and he groaned against her. His hips canted back and forth in the air in small thrusts, the head of his cock drizzling a string of pre-cum in heightened excitement. Lifting his head, his lips pulled away from the mound of her breast with a soft pop and his eyes found her half-lidded ones.

She was an absolute vision like this.

Beneath her hooded gaze, Neteyam could see her pupils were dilated wide and a desirous flush coloured her cheeks and chest a sensual violet. Her mouth was ajar and she was panting as she continued to pleasure herself. Stealing another kiss from her plush lips, Neteyam ghosted a hand over the wrist at her centre in a wordless request to touch her where she burned the hottest. Seyla answered with the slow parting of her thighs, bringing her knees upward and out to expose herself fully to him.

Neteyam stifled a strong curse and he breathed out with his next breath, “Fuck, you are so beautiful yawntu. You’re driving me mad.”

He reached down and blistering, moist heat enveloped his finger as Neteyam gently pushed a single digit inside her. His jaw opened both in amazement and in lust at how smooth the glide in had been, her core welcoming his intrusion with a tight clench and pulse. Seyla moaned and the sound was so deliciously licentious that he longed to hear it again. Her fingers pressed in faster circles over her clit and Neteyam gently added a second finger. He was rewarded with another throaty moan and the stretch of her thighs as she widened them as far as they could go.

Seyla’s movement brought the shin of her leg closest to Neteyam into contact with something solid and warm, and she stilled then, her eyes darting down to look. She gave a small start when she realised it was his erection, as if just remembering that it was there. It throbbed slightly and it appeared even stiffer than it had been before, the head of it glistening with Neteyam’s own arousal.

Her left hand crept towards him and she murmured a question through her heaving breaths, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, but I want to focus on you fir-”

Neteyam’s reaction was instantaneous as Seyla’s fingers closed around his girth. His entire torso jumped like he had been shocked by something and her hand flew backward in fright, apologies spilling from her lips, “Sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Neteyam’s laugh was gravelly and he refuted the need for her apologies in a croaky voice, “No, sweet girl, you didn’t hurt me. It’s alright. I’m just incredibly sensitive currently.”

“How do you like to be touched?”

“Let’s just focus on you right now. I can’t think if you’re distracting me by running your lovely hands over my cock, and I want you to feel good first.” To press his point, Neteyam curled the two fingers that were still snug inside her drenched core, eliciting a keening moan from Seyla, “Can you do that for me, numeyu? Just relax and enjoy this for now? You can touch me later, promise.”

“Y-Yes, karyu.”

Setting a steady pace of curling and stroking, Neteyam watched Seyla’s responses carefully. Her fingers resumed their massage over her most sensitive bud and with each curl of his fingers, he could feel her walls pulsate and tighten around them. Her eyes slid closed in concentration and whimpers puffed from between her parted lips. Neteyam had to steel himself at the wanton picture before him, fighting the pooling heat at the base of his spine and the pulsing throb of his cock. By Eywa, he was not going to spill too early like a hormonal teenager…

Everywhere, all around Seyla felt like viscous, gooey desire. Her skin prickled all over and her nipples tingled against the cool night air. The pleasure was greatest, of course, at her core where her fingers and Neteyam’s worked in tandem, driving her towards the cresting peak she could already see hurtling towards her. His hands were much larger than hers; his fingers thicker, longer and much more satisfying than her own had ever been during the times she had explored her own body.

Feeling like she was on the brink of shattering into the tiny fragments, his name left her lips in a lustful prayer, “Neteyam.”

Sensing her orgasm was imminent with the telltale quivering of her knees and thighs, Neteyam dipped his head once more to kiss over her breasts, nuzzling one peaked nipple, “That’s it, sweet girl. Just lean into it and let go.” He kept the pace and rhythm of his fingers steady, knowing from experience that once he had found something the woman enjoyed that consistency was key, not increased speed or pressure.

“Karyu, I-I’m so- Neteyam-” Seyla’s movements were becoming frantic and she rubbed even more intently at her clit, straining to reach the high that was just out of her reach. She was almost there. She just needed a little something more-

Neteyam’s mouth closed over one of her nipples again and he drew it into his mouth in a long, enticing suckle. It was that last little something that Seyla needed, and it threw her careering over the blessed edge of bliss. Her left hand fisted against her mouth to suppress the shameless scream that tore from her throat and Neteyam cursed low under his breath as the slick walls of her core squeezed and undulated around his fingers in ecstasy.

Great Mother, it was like his fingers were feeding the sensation directly to his cock and it pulsed in warning with a small spurt of pre-cum, his own orgasm threatening to consume him. Burying his face into the crook of Seyla’s neck, Neteyam gritted his teeth and resisted the urge.

No, he had promised Seyla she could explore him later, after her own pleasure. He would not rescind on that promise now due to losing control.

Heart pounding in her ears and thundering behind her ribs, Seyla panted through the aftermath of her orgasm. She reached across to thread her fingers tenderly through Neteyam’s beaded braids where his head was nestled against her neck. She felt him shift and he propped his head up again to regard her. Seyla felt blood heat her face at the sight of him also panting slightly, his piercing golden eyes still saturated with his desire. She smiled bashfully at him and turned her flushing face away from him.

Chortling, Neteyam ribbed her, “Oh, now you’re shy? By Eywa, where did all this come from tonight?”

Twisting her head back to face him, she pursed her lips in mock rebelliousness and retorted, “I’m a fast learner.” Her expression softened then and she tittered, “And I trust you.”

I love you, her heart said, but her lips kept that particular secret to herself.

Seyla had been curbing the urge to tell him. She had loved him for many moons now and although she and Neteyam were now betrothed, she was still afraid of being too forward with her emotions.

Neteyam silenced her with another heart-stopping kiss and Seyla rolled on to her side towards him, bumping yet again into his still very roused erection. He broke away from the kiss with a hiss at the contact, and Seyla saw her opportunity to begin her exploration of him.

Reaching down between their bodies, she gently grasped hold of his impressive length and gave it a tentative squeeze and stroke. Neteyam’s hips bucked towards her and a thrill of delight shot through her. She tested the feel of him in her grip, finding the cyan skin of his cock silken soft and yet its shaft was also exceedingly hard beneath his skin. A drop of liquid beaded at its tip and she instinctively swiped at it with her thumb, spreading the moisture over the smooth head of him.

“Tell me how you like it.” Seyla whispered, relishing the way his jaw had dropped and his face was contorted in a grimace of enjoyment. She continued with experimental strokes, feeling so empowered at the pleasure she was evidently bringing him as some more pre-cum began to ooze out of his cock, further lubricating the glide of her fingers over his sensitive flesh.

If Neteyam was honest, she could do anything right now and it would be paradise. He was so aroused, his balls drawn up close against his body, that he knew this was not going to be a lengthy exercise. Swallowing through a dry throat, he stammered, “That’s good. Keep going, sweet girl.”

“Is this what you want to do? What you want me to do?”

Neteyam’s expression twisted into a pleasure-filled snarl at the innocence of her question that provoked a surge of unchaste imagery in his mind, “Numeyu, there is so much that I want to do to you. You would be pinned beneath me screaming my name if I had my way.”

“OK.”

Neteyam stopped her hands then, bothered by how calmly and easily she had delivered her consent and he opened his eyes to blink sincerely at her. Great Mother, her desire to please him would be the death of him. Even whilst training for her rites, Neteyam had discovered early on that making him proud as her mentor had been a strong motivating factor for her. Seyla would push herself to her limits if the only reward she received from him at the end was a smile of approval.

In truth, he had answered her question amidst the thick of his pleasure and though taking her fully was indeed what the very male parts of him desired most, it was not a line he would be crossing with her today, “No, not ‘OK’. Sorry yawntu, I answered too quickly. I do want you, but not like this, not tonight. We’re not going to rush this.”

Seyla nodded quietly, still wanting to please him as best she could, “But how can I make this as good for you as possible? Teach me how.”

Licking his lips to moisten them, Neteyam admitted, “I like to thrust. So I normally thrust into my grip.” Seeing the slightly confused tilt of her head, he elaborated further, “Instead of moving my hands, I usually move my hips.”

“Oh, I see.” Cottoning on to his meaning, Seyla dripped her head in understanding. She was determined to be a good student, “Is there a way I can help you do that now?”

Unable to resist the earnestness burning bright in her big doe-eyes, Neteyam leant down to taste her lips again, taking great enjoyment in the way her mouth just opened for him to plunder it further. Ending their series of kisses with a chaste peck to her lips, he pressed Seyla down flat onto her back again and threw a knee over her hips so that he was kneeling on all fours over her.

Reaching for her hands with one of his, Neteyam arranged the fingers of both her hands around his cock, guiding her as he showed her the kind of grip he enjoyed. A ragged moan left him as he planted his hands on either side of her shoulders and peered down at her, “We can do it like this. Keep your perfect hands just the way they are, sweet girl. I’ll do the rest.”

“Yes, karyu.”

Neteyam began with a slow push and pull of his pelvis, his breath whistling low out of him as he watched his length glide in and out of the grasp of her beautiful hands. His pleasure was great, the feel of her fingers squeezing him as he pumped his cock in and out was the most exquisite sensation he had felt in a long time. He felt his cock begin to throb in a mounting rhythm of pleasure and his hips increased their pace.

Seyla watched from beneath him, making conscious effort to keep her clasped hands still through the thrusting of Neteyam’s hips. She was unsure if she had ever seen a creature more beautiful than him. She was thoroughly enjoying the view. She could see his face and watch the minute changes in his expression as he sought his bliss; the way his brows furrowed in varying intensities; the way his nose would wrinkle and his lips would peel back in a soundless snarl; the way his tail flexed and curled over at his side.

The rippling of his abdominal muscles while he worked his pelvis was Seyla’s favourite, however. She noted how his thrusts varied in speed and intensity, the way he had complete control of how deep or shallow his movements were. All the while a provocative string of his pre-cum was dripping onto the exposed skin of her belly, and the sight titillated her to no end.

Harsh groans were beginning to escape Neteyam and his hips were starting to stutter. It was becoming harder and harder for Seyla to keep her hands in their original position as the force of hips was pushing them lower towards her abdomen. He did not seem to be complaining though and soon her hands were wedged between their bodies, his hips aligned with hers while they continued their onslaught into her grasp.

Neteyam’s breaths deepened, punching out of him in large huffs before his entire body went rigid and a shout tore from him. His abs tensed and flexed with the assault of his climax against his senses and Seyla felt hot spurts of his semen lashing against her front, up her belly and painting stripes over her breasts.

Rolling off Seyla and onto his back so he did not crush her, Neteyam’s senses reeled from the force of his orgasm. His chest rose and fell rapidly while his lungs attempted to bring in enough air to calm his body to a more relaxed state.

Seyla felt a strong sense of satisfaction at her evening’s achievement. Neteyam was an absolute dream and she had thoroughly enjoyed being this intimate with him. She felt she finally understood why her peers all seemed so eager to engage in such activities now. Sweeping a curious finger through the sticky fluid that painted her front, Seyla held her fingers up to look at them and she gasped in surprise.

Neteyam’s eyes flew open at Seyla’s sudden gasp and his head whirled to face her, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She shot him an enchanted grin, her fingers still suspended before her as she delightedly pronounced, “It glows.”

Seyla cackled at her discovery, not minding the sticky, luminous mess on her fingers at all. She supposed she should not be surprised that semen was bioluminescent. It was a man’s lifegiving seed after all, and everything that was alive on Pandora glowed.

Snickering at the pure amazement on her face at such an innocent discovery, Neteyam pressed a kiss into her hair, “Is that your favourite learning of the evening, numeyu?”

Seyla crowed with laughter, nodding.

Tonight had been her first ‘lesson’ in sensuality and judging by the rousing success of the evening, she dared to say that she was very much looking forward to her upcoming lessons as well.

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Author's Note: Woooo! That was a very steamy Part II! The spicy scene at the end also ended up waaay longer than I thought, but I really wanted to flesh it out so you got both Seyla and Neteyam's perspectives. Thank you for reading! Likes, comments & reblogs are always so, so appreciated my lovelies. :D Gimme your thoughts and feelings, folks! Who loved Neteyam in this?? <3 So. Sexy. OMG. Who wants Part III?

Part III now HERE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist (I think this is everyone who showed an interest in Part II): @wawuwe @liluvtojineteyam @neyetams @cinetrix @dutifullysteadystarfish @han-sirentell @bluealiensimp @mahalkomarvel @nmin @bellstwd @blue-iciclepop

Some of the tags don't work for some reason - I'm so sorry to those bloggers! :( I don't know how to fix it.

[arliedraws]

What are your thoughts on Sirius and Lily’s friendship?

While many in the fandom focus more on her friendship with Remus, but aside from one quote from the movie, there's not much evidence to support that.

Lily's friendships are mostly unexplored, primarily for Doylist reasons, making her relationship with Snape a plot twist in the story. However, based on little we know about her character, she could have been an close friend to Sirius, not just the wife of his best friend. Lily was loving, intelligent, confident, and empathetic—qualities that would allow her to relate to people with tough personalities.. (some Snape fans argue that she was a bad friend to him, but it’s important to remember that it was not her, who at 15 already wanted and later willingly chose to join a terrorist organization).

I think Sirius was naturally drawn to people he viewed as equals, which could explain why he could become closer to Lily than to Remus or Peter over time.

And her letter to him was the last treasure Sirius has of Lily and James :(

Ummmmmm. I took an hour of my life and wrote this. It’s like three pages of thought. But hey! I think I figured out how I see Lily . So thanks!

TL;DR: Sirius resented Lily until he didn’t, and then they were very close until she died.

If you want to read my full take, it’s under the cut.

First of all, to answer your question, I’d like to look at Lily overall.

I find Lily challenging as a character. There are so many ways to interpret her. She’s described as funny, smart, kind, brave, and beautiful. She’s also popular. And cheeky. Unlike James, there isn’t an unflattering side of her shown to Harry. This is why I’m not much of a Jily person—I wish I had what Jily people have regarding Lily. It’s so much easier to interpret a character based on their flaws than their strengths, their failings and how they deal with them than their successes.

I say this because we have to make guesses to her flaws. She made excuses for Snape for years when he was clearly being a prejudiced asshole behind her back. Who knows what he was actually saying about her? But he was her best friend, and she was loyal to him. Then, when his prejudice becomes public, that’s when she declares it the final straw.

My interpretation is that Lily wants to fit in. Unlike most people at school, she came in with a best friend. How cool! But it prevented her from getting close with anyone else. Maybe she has other friends, but I doubt they were very close (Snape would probably make sure of that). Lily is incredibly loyal—and if Snape says someone is bad news, I think she’d trust him.

Anyway, Snape rejecting her publicly was the last straw. She knew it was coming, but she loved him and she has to believe that people are flawed and deserve a second chance. And a third and a fourth and so on. Until she’s faced with arrogant toerag James Potter defending her in front of the whole school. Even this guy she can’t stand is appalled at Snape’s behavior.

Snape is embarrassing. He just is. He’s desperate, and he thinks groveling and kissing her feet will make up for being chummy and racist with his Death Eater wannabe buddies.

What does this have to do with Sirius?

Well, all this time, she’s spent years with these four boys who are clearly sneaking around after hours, will defend each other to the death, and won’t for a moment put up with anyone bullying their friends. Even pathetic little Peter is worth defending. Remus Lupin might even be a werewolf. But they don’t care—he belongs to them. Even when they’re alone, Lily sees that they aren’t two-faced, they aren’t pretending to care about each other.

It would have been very easy for Sirius to talk shit behind James’s back to stay in the good graces of his family/Slytherins. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even talk to his brother.

I think Lily watches this over the years and wishes Snape were like Sirius. She wishes that just one time, Snape would defend her. When she finally tells Snape it’s over, I think she was desperately lonely in the aftermath. She’s popular, yes, but all the girls in her year have been friends for almost six years, and how could there be room for her? Lily is also incredibly proud. I don’t think she’d be asking to be friends with girls who tried to be her friend for ages but gave up every time she cheerfully told them, “Thanks for inviting me to hang out in Hogsmeade this weekend, but Sev and I are going to [fill in activity]!”

Anyway, Lily’s pride also keeps her from admitting to James she likes him. Maybe she doesn’t even have a crush or feelings romantically, but she’s incredibly aware of James. I think she’s jealous of his bond with his friends. Lily has an undercurrent of anxiety that she’ll be rejected—she’s a social chameleon. She can charm professors, she’s wicked smart, she’s pretty, and she’s funny and clever as hell. So here’s this guy, James Potter, who seems to be no one other than himself. He doesn’t have to pretend. An asshole, an arrogant prat, but undeniably honest.

James declares publicly that he likes her. This is…uhh…the opposite of Snape. Obviously. But Lily’s pride and embarrassment of the whole situation bruises her. I’m sure she also didn’t want people to think that she was dating Snape—would people think she was dating James to get back at Snape? Would they think she was desperate to be with a pureblood like James?

Meanwhile, Sirius is watching Lily Evans. Her friendship with Severus Snape has just exploded, and he watches her watching James. Sirius, who demonstrates canonically that he is very good at reading people, can see through Lily’s pleasant façade and unflappable exterior. Maybe she has friends, but he can see that she isn’t close with them. She’s a loner. She’s like him.

Here’s where I think Sirius and Lily match up—they’re both fearful of rejection, they’re extremely proud, and they’re exceptionally careful about how they allow others to see them. I think Sirius is more easily offended than Lily, but she’s also better at hiding when she’s hurt. To regain power, Sirius will punish you while Lily will regain her power by pretending it didn’t matter and your opinion doesn’t matter.

As soon as Lily is sans Snape, she becomes a threat to Sirius. He knows it’s only a matter of time before she gets over her pride and gets close to James, so he’s very wary of her. Soon she’ll figure out that James makes you feel like the cleverest person in the room. She’ll figure out that James will defend you until he’s dead. James loves his people too hard, and Sirius does not want to share him.

Well, once Lily and James become head boy and girl, keeping them apart is impossible. Sirius isn’t outwardly cold to her because James isn’t stupid, and he’d quickly know what Sirius was doing, but he’s not exactly welcoming either.

Lily and James become friends in seventh year. This is the first time James has had a friend outside of their group—and there are things he talks to her about that he doesn’t discuss with the others, not even Sirius. And Lily opens up. She even finds herself slipping out of her constant performance, and for the first time in her life, she can say whatever she wants. James loves when she’s silly. Not funny—everyone loves a funny—but silly. And he’s silly with her. And all of the pretending is gone, and Lily can be exactly herself and honest and not try to mold herself into what James wants her to be.

This is not good news for Sirius who has always been the one that James relies on for emotional support. And Sirius resents Lily a little. For the rest of their time at school, he’s fairly certain she’s just pretending.

Then school ends, and Dumbledore recruits them to the Order of the Phoenix. James and Lily are firmly together, and she just “gets” James. At least, that’s what James says. Very naturally, she knows what James is thinking and she respects him, and Sirius is secretly infuriated that she reads people as well as he does. It becomes clearer and clearer that Lily really does love James.

I think Sirius wants James to be happy—if James isn’t going to choose Sirius, then at least Lily makes him happy. And he forces himself to smile, cheers for them, champions their relationship. Except that Lily sees right through him, and she knows that if she doesn’t get Sirius on her side, one well-placed comment about her might influence James.

But also, she loves James and doesn’t want Sirius to fuck it up. There are a few ways they could become friends, but one way I’ve imagined is that Lily invites Sirius out for a drink. A good actor and loyal friend to James, he engages her in the sort of conversation he knows will interest her—they have shared interests, and she’s intelligent and creative like him. As long as they stay away from talking about James, he’s pleasant. Then, once they’re a few drinks in, Lily tells him that she doesn’t blame him for hating her. This stuns Sirius who thought he was being so clever. He insists she’s making things up, but Lily tells him that she feels the same way about Sirius—that she’s scared he’s going to take James away.

This is the sort of vulnerability Sirius needs to see from her. He needs to know that Lily hasn’t won—that she’s just as afraid of Sirius as he is of her, that she hasn’t tried to steal James from him. She just loves James for exactly the same reasons Sirius loves him. Lily promises that she will never keep Sirius away from James.

As time goes on, there are things that Lily can confess to Sirius that she can’t tell anyone else—and, eventually, Sirius starts to confide in her too. But it’s different than talking to James for both of them; they’re so incredibly similar that they understand each other on a level that James just doesn’t get.

I think you’re right—I think post-Hogwarts, Sirius was closer to Lily than he was to Remus or Peter. The friendship was hard-won, but canon supports a tight Sirius&Lily bond with that letter he kept.

In the end, I really do think he lost both of his best friends when James and Lily were killed—one was his soul mate and the other was his best friend.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dragonfly - Part 2

Summary: Steve has just about everything he could ever want in life. He's got you, a baby on the way, and a successful Family. No one would dare interfere with that. Right?

A/N: Reader is female, pregnant. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: Death threats, Implied violence, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

You’ve been stuck inside the house for days. It’s a beautiful house, you feel comfortable in it, but knowing you can’t leave makes you want out more than ever. You try to distract yourself by cooking and baking whatever it is the baby is craving but that only goes so far. Especially when you can feel Steve’s frustration adding to your own. Something needs to actually be done but, with nothing you can actually do, it’s just building up a lot of frustrated energy for both of you. He can at least use the home gym for some of his energy but all you’re allowed to use in there is the treadmill and it’s just not enough. 

Bucky finally has some news and calls you both into Steve’s office. You vaguely recognize the person with him as God the Bounty Hunter, or GBH as he allows only his closest circle to call him. Steve sets you in the chair behind his desk, the most comfortable one in the office, before sitting on the desk facing the two men. 

“GBH has been able to get an appointment with the person who runs the boards,” Bucky starts. Steve’s fists clench as he grabs the edge of the desk, fighting the urge to punch the faceless person. “It’s at the Cairo Hotel and I’m gonna recommend neither of you is there for it.”

“What?” Steve’s anger is evident in his clenched jaw.

“There are a few factors, Steve,” Bucky raises his hands. “Namely, I don’t think you can control yourself to follow the rules of neutrality at the appointment. We can’t afford to lose Pine’s support.” 

Steve lowers his head in understanding. You get up and gently rub your hand between his shoulder blades, trying to help him keep calm.

“Another factor is my professional standing,” GBH adds. “I have a reputation and clout to uphold. These aren’t the kind of people you want to piss off. Anything happens to Mr. Smith at an appointment with me, I’ll be done for. And not just professionally.”

“GBH assures me that there is procedure for a target to remove their contract or for someone else to do so on their behalf,” Bucky offers. “It’s likely gonna cost a lot, but I know that doesn’t matter.” Steve nods. “Plus, it’ll keep her off of the contract postings for at least five years.”

“But I am highly doubtful anyone will get any information on who posted the contract,” GBH confessed. Steve turned to glare at him but the other man seemed unaffected as he continued, “again, lots of regulation and factors. Namely trust within the business. No one’s gonna post a contract if there’s a chance the target finds out they’re the ones who opened it.”

“Just business, huh,” Steve mocks. 

You hug him from behind, “just getting the hit on me removed would be a major quality of life improvement.” You nuzzle your face against his shoulder. “And maybe we can send one of the Garbage Men to the appointment? They’re good at getting subtext and negotiations, right?”

Steve and Bucky both nod at your assessment. 

“I was planning on just me and God,” Bucky admits. “Would it be acceptable for us to bring a third?” 

GBH contemplates, “it shouldn’t be a problem. The key thing is that it’s at Pine’s establishment and he doesn’t have to worry about someone trying to hurt him in retaliation for doing his job.” 

Steve’s grip on the desk makes his knuckles go white. He hates the idea of his wife’s life or death being a matter of ‘business’. But he knows that’s how it is for everyone outside his circle. It’s the kind of thinking that he’s worked hard to make sure he doesn’t fall into. “Whatever you need to do, do it. I want this contract burnt.”

It’s finally the day of the contract appointment and you do your best to distract yourself and Steve. He’s always been willing to do whatever you needed but it’s been magnified since your confirmed pregnancy test a few months ago. Thinking it might help both of you to relax a little, you ask him to help you out. 

A foot massage for your swollen feet, keeping his hands busy and his thoughts focused on your moans of pleasure. 

A warm bath to help your muscle aches, keeping his attention focused on your naked body and the temperature of the water. 

Which, of course, led to the two of you in bed so he can properly worship your body. Part of you misses the rougher sex but you understand Steve’s hesitancy. And damn if he doesn’t still make you feel so good you forget your name. 

Steve holds your sleeping form in his arms, gently rubbing your belly. He knows you’ve been trying to distract him and he’s so grateful to you. He’s barely been able to keep from punching walls and checking his phone every five minutes. But taking care of you really helped to settle him. 

He hears the telltale chirp of his phone and moves as carefully as he can so that he doesn’t wake you. The message is from Bucky, Contract burnt. Possible lead thanks to Teach. His shoulders go lax as he finally feels the relief he’s been longing for. 

He returns to his place in the bed, holding you close. You barely wake up, just enough to make yourself comfortable and kiss his neck. It’s not completely safe for you and your baby boy yet. But now that the overarching danger has been taken care of, he can focus on finding and crushing the source. Whoever Dragonfly is, Steve vows they will die in agony by his own hand.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jamneuromain; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @leryg0; @rayofdawnworld; @rebekahdawkins; @talesofadragon; @texmexdarling

[bbobpul]

break my heart again — njm

PAIRING. na jaemin x female reader SUMMARY. y/n has a crush on jaemin so she decided to dedicate her entire college life to him. GENRE. angst, fluff W/C. 3.5k NOTE. hi, i'm back with a jaemin au. please comment your thoughts and reblog (IF U WANT TO OKIE?) enjoy reading, babes.

╰⁠(⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠ᗜ⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠)⁠➝ my other works !!!!! part two

i find it hard to picture myself ever being as dedicated to something or someone again, just like how i dedicated my entire college life to na jaemin.

lately, i've been feeling like i forgot what it's like to actually have a dream. back then, na jaemin was my dream, he was my driving force. i would force myself to wake up so early in the morning just so i could see him (or his car) enter the gates of the university. i would go to school even though i am sick and feel a lot better when i get home because i saw na jaemin. but now two years after graduating, i still haven't found a decent job that i actually enjoy.

it's a common experience that many people go through, and i suppose i shouldn't complain about it. maybe i need to put in more effort and push myself harder. part of me wonders if having na jaemin back in my life would rekindle that same sense of dedication that i once had. but as i say these thoughts out loud, they sound absurd, even to myself. why would i wish for my first love to return just so i could find a decent job? why would i long for na jaemin to come back merely to feel that spark in my life again? it's puzzling why i'm even dwelling on thoughts of him and wondering if he holds the key to my happiness and success.

it feels like a constant struggle between my heart and my mind. i love na jaemin and i always will but a lot of things happened and a lot of things have changed.

na jaemin has caused significant damage to both.

first year, in third person's pov

"hi, jaemin from the architecture building! you look reaaaally cool ! have this cookie.

ps. i am a really good baker"

jaemin read the note with a bewildered gaze and furrowed brows. as she moved away from him and gradually disappeared into the distance, he observed her. she had given him something before this week, not for the first time. the start of college had only been two weeks, and in that brief time, y/n had been continuously giving jaemin presents. whether it was food, pencils, or a handkerchief, it was usually the delectable stuff she baked herself.

on the other hand, y/n ran to the lecture room with the big window as soon as she left jaemin's building. she was at the ideal spot to see everything, including jaemin, the person who held her heart and was also her first love.

because she saw her crush and gave him another gift, which he gratefully accepted, she was grinning widely, an 18-year-old young woman having a good day.

however, she isn't entirely certain of that. y/n never saw jaemin use or consume any of the things she handed him. she never did a second check. she is not creepy in that way. but she's not really that foolish. y/n has doubts about jaemin's ability to keep what she provides him. she is therefore gazing at him from behind the window.

cold and silence filled the empty lecture hall. warmth filled y/n, and she could feel her heart thumping loudly inside her chest.

jaemin stood there for a moment, clutching y/n's note in his hand. however, instead of keeping it or cherishing the gesture, he proceeded to walk towards the gardens beside his building, making his way towards the trash can and threw the note away. this unexpected action left y/n feeling puzzled and somewhat disheartened.

after discarding the note in the trash can, jaemin made his way back to his building. y/n's attention shifted as she observed a group of people approaching jaemin, engaging in a lively conversation with him. seeing him happily interacting with his friends brought a smile to her face, knowing that he was surrounded by good company.

however, her confusion resurfaced when she noticed jaemin handing the paper bag she had given him to one of the girls in the group. it left her wondering why he didn't keep the gift for himself and why he chose to give it to someone else instead.

'oh,' y/n thought to herself, 'at least he didn't waste the food i gave him.' despite her disappointment, she found solace in knowing that her gift, the one she had carefully prepared, wasn't entirely disregarded.

as she silently observed the scene, her heart raced with an intensity that almost drowned out all other sounds. the thumping in her chest echoed so loudly that she failed to notice the time. caught in the moment, she couldn't tear her eyes away as jaemin entered the lecture room in his building.

her mesmerizing watchfulness caused her to lose track of time, and before she knew it, she was late for her next subject. but despite the consequences, she couldn't help but linger a little longer, hoping to catch another glimpse of jaemin, the person who had unknowingly become the center of her world.

after what happened, y/n never stopped. she is the textbook definition of complete commitment. as long as na jaemin knows her, there is something in her that believes that na jaemin will learn how to love her.

second year

once again, life has taken many twists and turns, bringing about significant changes.

amidst it all, y/n's unwavering commitment and dedication to na jaemin remained steadfast, even growing stronger over time.

when she learned from his friends that he often skipped breakfast, relying solely on coffee, y/n's concern for his well-being took center stage. without a second thought, she began preparing packed lunches for jaemin, determined to ensure he didn't go through his days on an empty stomach.

this act of caring displayed the depth of her feelings and the lengths she was willing to go to look out for him.

on the other hand, na jaemin continued with his usual routine. upon receiving y/n's notes, he would read them briefly before tossing them away, seemingly unaffected by their contents. similarly, he would pass on the items she gifted him to any of his friends without much thought or consideration. it became evident that jaemin's actions were a stark contrast to y/n's heartfelt gestures, leaving her to wonder why her expressions of care and affection didn't seem to have a significant impact on him.

y/n is well aware of the reality of the situation, and she's not naive. however, a part of her still clings to the same belief she had back in her first year. deep down, she holds onto the hope that as long as na jaemin knows her, there's a chance he might eventually learn how to love her in return. despite the challenges and past disappointments, this glimmer of optimism persists within her heart, keeping her hopeful for a future that may yet unfold.

third year

"hey, jaemin," y/n had been practicing those two words for what felt like an eternity, or maybe three years. this would be the first time she'd initiate a conversation with him this year. in the past, they hadn't exchanged many words, and this might be the longest interaction they've had.

"i have a friend who's studying the same course as you, and he's very sick right now. i was wondering if i could borrow your notes for him?" she asked, putting on a friendly smile.

"who's your friend?" jaemin inquired after a few moments of silence.

"renjun. i'm sure you know him. he's a pretty outstanding student," y/n replied, maintaining her smile.

"uh, yeah. i don't have any notes right now since i'm headed somewhere, but i'll give them to you later," he said, scratching his head.

"can i get your insta?" jaemin suddenly asked, catching y/n off guard and making her flustered.

"h-huh?" y/n stammered, puzzled by his request.

"so i can contact you and give you the notes," jaemin explained.

"oh!" y/n exclaimed, finally understanding his intention.

jaemin handed his phone to y/n, and she quickly typed in her username. he then called her there to verify if it was correct, and when her phone rang, jaemin started to walk away, seemingly content with the exchange.

"i really thought it would be you," y/n murmured to herself, her disappointment evident.

despite feeling let down, y/n gathered her emotions and began walking towards the library, which lay three buildings away from her current location. as she strolled, her mind was preoccupied with thoughts about who gigi might be. y/n had a close circle of friends among jaemin's acquaintances, yet no one had ever mentioned anyone named gigi. this led her to ponder whether gigi was someone special to jaemin or simply a random person in their department that he asked to deliver the notes.

a smile tugged at the corners of her lips at the idea that jaemin would go to great lengths just to ensure she received the notes, even disturbing someone from his own class to pass them on when he couldn't do it himself.

but y/n soon chided herself for entertaining such thoughts, recognizing that she might be crossing into a realm of delusion. still, in the midst of her contemplations, there remained a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, jaemin's actions held a deeper significance.

y/n settled down on one of the bean bags near the entrance of the library, strategically positioning herself for gigi to easily spot her. despite being in the library now, her thoughts were still consumed by questions about who this mysterious gigi could be. she was aware that she shouldn't be dwelling too much on a stranger, but doubts had begun to creep in, even though she knew she shouldn't entertain them.

as she waited, her mind oscillated between curiosity and uncertainty, grappling with the urge to push these thoughts aside and focus on other matters. y/n was determined to keep her emotions in check, yet the enigmatic presence of gigi kept tugging at her thoughts, creating an internal struggle she couldn't entirely ignore.

y/n's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a voice calling out to her, "hey, y/n, right?" it was gigi.

surprised but composed, y/n responded, "hi, yes. it's me."

gigi smiled and handed over the notes, saying, "here are the notes. i need to leave right away since i have somewhere to be."

"alright, thanks a lot. goodbye," y/n replied with gratitude, watching gigi leave as she contemplated the encounter and the enigmatic figure who had delivered the notes. the brief interaction only deepened her curiosity about gigi, leaving her with even more questions than before.

feeling all kinds of emotion, y/n put the notes in her bag and reminded herself to pass by renjun's apartment later to give it to him.

fourth year

as graduation approached for y/n, she couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. with only one more year left for jaemin before he graduated, she knew this was her chance to go all out. this year, she continued her tradition of sending him notes and small gifts, but there was one significant difference - she finally had the courage to engage in conversation with him.

they had slowly transitioned into friends, and y/n couldn't be more thrilled. woohoo! it all began when she got his number after their third year ended. from that point on, they started going out for lunch once every two months. it wasn't a regular occurrence, only happening when they both remembered each other or when jaemin had free time from his monthly or weekly important errands.

despite the infrequent meet-ups, y/n cherished every moment they spent together. gradually, their bond grew stronger, and y/n treasured the gradual transformation of their relationship, hoping that this newfound closeness would eventually lead to something more.

this is the side of jaemin that y/n waited 3 and a half years for.

lunch it is.

the pattern had become all too familiar - na jaemin would meet with y/n for lunch, only to vanish afterward for reasons y/n couldn't quite fathom. he would claim that the demands of his architecture studies were intense, requiring months of unwavering focus. while y/n understood the challenges of his field, she couldn't help but sense that there was more to his absences than met the eye.

"Why does he need two phones anyway?" Y/n mumbled under her breath as she reached the table.

A sigh of relief escaped her when she spotted Jaemin's phone resting on the table, glad to see it wasn't lost or stolen.

"He's stupid," she grumbled to herself as she noticed his phone screen lit up. She instinctively reached for the phone, intending to turn it off. However, as she held it, her eyes couldn't help but wander to the conversation displayed on the screen - a conversation that unexpectedly caught her attention. Despite not intending to pry, the mention of her name within that conversation stirred her curiosity, prompting her to read further.

y/n was fully aware that what she had done was wrong on so many levels. she knew she shouldn't have invaded his privacy by reading that private conversation. however, strangely enough, she felt a sense of gratitude for stumbling upon the truth she never knew she needed.

the revelation hit hard: na jaemin was only with her out of weariness. he had grown tired of her and all her expressions of affection - the gifts, the packed lunches, and her feelings. it left y/n questioning herself, wondering if she had been too overbearing or intrusive. but she couldn't ignore the fact that na jaemin was straightforward, and she would have stopped if he had just told her to do so. y/n was always understanding and respectful of boundaries.

yet, the truth remained a bitter pill to swallow. it hurt to realize that she had been fooling herself, clinging to hope and misinterpreting his actions as genuine interest. now, faced with the reality of his weariness, y/n couldn't help but grapple with the thought of letting go and moving on, even if it meant relinquishing the connection she had longed for with na jaemin.

"y/n, sorry i took so long. it started raining outside," jaemin explained as he approached her. "why aren't you seated?" he asked with concern.

y/n quickly wiped her tears, trying to compose herself before facing jaemin. however, her tear-stained cheeks gave away her emotions, taking jaemin aback.

"i'm so sorry, jaem," y/n managed to say before turning away and walking off, leaving jaemin bewildered by her sudden departure.

instinctively, jaemin followed after her, his confusion growing with each step he took. he couldn't understand why y/n was upset, and his heart sank at the thought of having caused her pain. he needed to find out what happened, to make things right again.

in the pouring rain, jaemin continued calling out y/n's name until they reached the parking lot, both now drenched.

"sorry for what, y/n?" jaemin inquired, trying to understand her sudden distress.

"for everything," y/n hastily replied, her focus on locating her car in the vast parking lot.

"did something come up? do you need me to drive you there? y/n, please talk to me," jaemin pressed, genuine concern etched on his face.

"i don't need you to do anything, jaemin!" y/n retorted sharply, her emotions getting the better of her.

jaemin fell silent, taken aback by the intensity of her outburst.

"did i do something, hmm?" jaemin countered, trying to make sense of her anger.

"did i tire you out?" y/n asked, leaving jaemin even more puzzled.

"were the packed lunches annoying? did the gifts annoy you? you know you could have easily told me to stop if you hated it. but you kept accepting it, you kept accepting me!" her words poured out, tinged with frustration and uncertainty.

"what are you talking about?" jaemin asked, genuinely bewildered by her accusations.

"you could've easily told me to go away and forget my feelings. why did you have to lie to me, huh?!" y/n's voice cracked with emotion as she bared her heart, seeking answers that seemed to elude her in this turbulent exchange.

in that moment, y/n's anger felt misplaced and unjustified. she couldn't help but feel that jaemin had every right to be weary of her.

"did you read it?" jaemin asked calmly.

"i'm... i'm sorry. i know i shouldn't have," y/n confessed, her remorse evident.

jaemin got his answer. she had indeed read the private conversation. if it were someone else invading his privacy, he might have reacted with anger, but instead, he felt sorry and scared. not for himself, but for y/n. he worried that she might have misunderstood the context of the conversation and jumped to conclusions that could hurt her even more. despite the hurtful truth she had stumbled upon, jaemin couldn't bear to see y/n burdened by further pain because of it.

"y/n.. i'm sorry," jaemin started. the rain continued to drench the both of them. "i'm sorry if i'm only acknowledging your feelings now. i'm sorry for lying to you. but i can't. friendship is the only thing i could offer to you. i'm not capable of loving anyone, y/n. not right now."

"i'm sorry too, jaem." y/n looked into his eyes with so much pain seeing nothing but pity to her and now she felt more bad. one last look into the man she loves before leaving everything behind.

weeks after that

from the instant she started moving away, a sense of unease settled upon y/n. in the days leading up to graduation, doubt gnawed at her, as if the choices she had made over the past four years were suddenly cast into uncertainty, leaving her with a haunting feeling of investing time in something that might not have been the right path.

stripped of her sole motivating factor, all due to her own foolishness.

in a decisive act, she meticulously cut the threads that bound her to jaemin, even extending her detachment to a few of his closest companions. a profound sentiment of shame now courses through her veins, an emotion as palpable as the weight of those four years that has suddenly descended upon her. the relentless toil, the countless hours spent perfecting recipes and perusing stores, each instance accompanied by the whispered refrain, 'this would bring a smile to jaemin,' now lingers in the air, suspended like the remnants of a wistful dream, leaving her heart heavy with a sense of squandered devotion.

a few more days slipped by, and y/n couldn't shake off that familiar feeling. today was supposed to be a total high point, a day of triumph. but with all those self-doubts clouding her mind, she wasn't sure if she had the green light to party. that whole jaemin situation still stung, and it was like an unwelcome guest at her celebration.

amidst the sea of fellow graduates, y/n ascended the stage, the cheers of thousands echoing around her. as she stood there, a distinct yearning tugged at her heart, a search for something or someone that eluded her in that very instant. a mere glimpse would have sufficed to fill the void she felt. yet, she was aware of the futility, for the one she sought, jaemin, was not among those donning the graduation cap this year. a year still separated his own moment of triumph from hers.

y/n returned home that evening, burdened by an unseen weight in her chest. little did she realize that the heaviness would escalate the instant she crossed her apartment threshold and unlocked her phone. it was as if the weight could transcend reality, threatening to plummet through the floor, shattering tiles and disrupting the tranquility of the neighbor residing below.

what unfolded before her eyes was a paradox, an unexpected contradiction to the jaemin who had shattered her heart. there he stood, unreservedly embracing a sense of love and joy, his beaming image accompanied by the words, "four years, finally. congrats!" the sight was jarring, a stark contrast to the version of him she had come to know. in that moment, it became painfully evident that the subject of the image was not her, nor would it ever be.

"guess you're capable of love after all," y/n mused inwardly, a bitter smile tugging at her lips as she stared at her phone.

fast forward two years, and it hit her like a ton of bricks – that was the moment of clarity. the very point where she finally untangled herself from him, and in the process, freed her own heart. she figured out something pretty straightforward: love wasn't some rare skill, it was just a matter of who you're dealing with. and right then and there, it struck her like lightning that jaemin was never going to be the one for her.

back in the mix of it all, two years back, she made a pact with herself – one day, she'd break free from the cycle of falling for him. she harbored a hope, a wish for the future: that someone, someday, would come along and love her just as fiercely as she had loved him.

————————————————————————————

part two :)))))))

[amber-lucca44]

Couldn't sleep and was bored, and kinda hate Drake so um

Drake's biggest fuckups I've caught on this beef

He loves trying to diss Kendrick for his height. Yk like a toddler would.

He tries to say Kendrick's Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers was a bad album. If we're talking critical reviews, it had a Metacritic rating of 85/100, compared to Drake's highest ever rating of 79/100 for Nothing Was The Same. In fact, Kendrick's lowest Metacritic score so far has been 80/100 for Section.80, again over Drake's highest.

...and if we're talking sales or streams, well first, no one ever challenged Drake's sales compared to Kendrick. I think we all know Drake is pretty much unmatched when it comes to that. Second, if sales were a factor to determine quality of music, then holy shit "Despacito" must be an all time magnum opus like nothing anyone ever heard before lol.

Trying to call Kendrick a sellout for doing songs with Maroon 5 and Taylor Swift? Drake calling someone else a sellout? 🤡🤡🤡

The line where he said Kendrick isn't on the big three because SZA, Travis Scott and 21 Savage "got him wiped down". Okay, first, I'm pretty sure this guy thinks big three means just "the three best selling" and uhhh no not quite. And second, and most obvious, SZA? SZA isn't even a rapper, why are you trying to bring her into this? 🙄

The AI to imitate 2Pac's and Snoop's voices. A few points here. First of all, the fucking disrespect to 2Pac, what the fuck. Glad Pac's family threatened him to remove it. Second, Snoop Dogg is alive. You just used his AI voice cause you know damn well he wouldn't be caught dead doing a verse on a Kendrick diss for you. And as a third point, it's just funny you felt like you had to use AI to make a diss track. Ghostwriters weren't enough for this one ig lol.

"Taylor Made Freestyle" was all just him begging on his hands and knees for Kendrick to reply something and give him some attention. Drake took almost a month replying to Kendrick's verse on "Like That". And he's begging for a response to "Push Ups" like a week after it was leaked (and the same day it was even officially released in the first place)

He tried to say the things Kendrick would diss him with. He was mostly right but oh boy did Kendrick do so much more.

Is he a Swiftie too? Cause he wouldn't let her go for "Taylor Made". In his mind, he swears Kendrick wasn't dropping a diss cause he didn't want to interrupt Taylor Swift's album's success, which is just a funny and dumb conclusion to make.

Spends the end of that track just talking, trying to praise Taylor for "managing Kendrick's schedule". 🤡

Drake beginning "Family Matters" with an n word and then going "yeah I said it I know that you mad" really came off sounding like when 12 year olds play online and say the word to seem tough. 😂

"Always rapping like you trying to get the slaves freed". Dang so making songs that actually have substance and meaning means you wanna free slaves, okay.

About these next lines...

Kendrick said he hated the girls you fuck referring to your dumbass being a pedo and hated you trying to hook up with underage girls. Not at any point did he say anything about their color tf.

"I've been with black and white and everything that's in between" okay so all underage girls okay got it. Again that was never the point. 😐

"You the black messiah wifin' up a mixed queen" Drake seriously missed the whole entire fucking point. Kendrick never said he didn't like you for hooking up with white women, what the fuck. And again the messiah thing is just funny.

He mentioned Whitney on "Push Ups", and some gave him the benefit of the doubt thinking he might have just done some wordplay about Whitney Houston being called the same as Kendrick's wife, wasn't clear enough. But these lyrics here are what made it abundantly clear he did want to try to mess with his family. I'm sorry but at this point that's not a rap beef, you intentionally tried to make it personal. Maybe you knew you never had a chance so you thought going there would make it possible to win? As if you didn't have a horrible fucking record already.

"Why you never hold your son and tell him 'say cheese'?" Maybe he doesn't want to expose him too much to the public while he raises him, decent human beings would understand that.

"We could've left the kids out of this, don't blame me" Kendrick said you don't know shit about raising a child based on information that was already abundantly public (see "The Story Of Addidon") and also based on the fact that you, despite having that child, love playing tough on IG and dropping disses using AI begging Kendrick to reply. Trying to get Kendrick's children involved is totally on you, buddy. Kendrick wasn't the one dealing with being exposed with having a child no one knew about and you wouldn't acknowledge.

He loves baselessly claiming that one of Kendrick's children isn't his. Again, baselessly, so literally just gossip lol.

And speaking of baseless stuff, he's really keeps running on his claim that Kendrick has beaten his wife. THERE IS NO EVIDENCE OF THIS. Like at all. In his mind, he probably thinks that since his easily provable bullshit was exposed, he'll try to invent some bs on Kendrick too to make it seem like they're both horrible people. The only piece of shit we know of in this beef is you, Drake.

Not at Kendrick but in a diss aimed at The Weeknd, Drake had to pull out his homophobic card. Disgusting. Fuck, it's so easy to dislike this guy. 🙄

Saying that Kendrick's music only "hitting hard" when Baby Keem writes on it. Is it cause he has writing credits on "N95"? He does ad libs on the song so I'm pretty sure that's why he's listed. Are the ad libs that fire? Lol

"Kendrick just opened his mouth, somebody go hand him a Grammy right now" awww he jealous bout Kendrick's Grammy's lol 🥺

He brought up Kendrick's transgender uncle, and was transphobic to try to diss Kendrick. Just plain ignorant and disgusting as hell. But of course he did. 😑🙄

Tried to blame Kendrick for 2Pac's family threatening legal action for his "Taylor Made Freestyle". Bro what you did was plain disrespectful and it was just bound to happen.

Did he really try to brag about the video leaked of him masturbating? 🤡🤡🤡

And this nonsense right here, was it cause he visited Ghana or something? He's trying to pin Kendrick as a racist? Huh?

...and follows this up with an ignorant, racist, weird ass comment dissing Michael Jackson too for no reason whatsoever. 🤡

Talking to the mirror here lol

Naming his diss track "The Heart part 6" was almost clever. Except for the fact that yk the song is fucking trash.

The first line on this song calls Kendrick "the Pulitzer Prize winner". Yeah pointing out an accolade as amazing as that one at the beginning of a diss towards him will definitely do it. 😀

Having a comment by Dave Free as the cover for the single. Is this his evidence for a kid being his? 😂

Saying you "plotted to give Kendrick information" doesn't even help you much when it's all easily believable based on your background lol.

Denying the child Kendrick is exposing him to have, again, doesn't help your case at all after Adonis.

Goes back to saying Kendrick beat his wife and one of his children is not his, again with no evidence or hint whatsoever, only to go and say he's all about "facts". 🤡

Okay so, be careful everyone, don't leave heart emojis to any child or baby post ever, cause Drake is going to think you're the father.

Why is he even bringing up Kendrick's confessions on "Mother I Sober"? How is bringing up a traumatic potential sexual abuse incident a good way to dodge your own sexual abuse allegations? And that's not even exactly what Kendrick said on the fucking song! It's just disgusting.

And then tries to ridicule Kendrick for being a victim of this. What the fuck is wrong with this mf.

Okay and this one is just cringe. He tried to spin Kendrick's jab on "Not Like Us". B sharp isn't even a thing btw. 😂😂🤡

"I'd never look twice at no teenager" there is literally video of you kissing a teenager on stage, for starters. So you just look at them once before you creep on them how does that work

"Only fucking with Whitney" ah yes the old "I'll fuck your bitch" trope very clever and original Drake

Drake believing some bullshit he saw around about Kendrick using bots to boost his view count is just hilarious. He really thinks Kenny sat down and took some time to actually do that. 😂😂

He thinks people will cancel Kendrick over his baseless battery accusations. 🤡

He ends it with another minute rant like the one he did on "Taylor Made", and starts by saying the beef was "some good exercise". Ngl it is the first time I hear Drake rap at all in a while. So yeah gotta thank Kendrick for getting Drake to actually TRY to do some good music at all. (It's not even good but yk better than whatever trash he was doing before the beef)

"Just let me know when we getting to the facts, everything in my shit is facts" *doubles down on baseless claims of battery and one of Kendrick's children not being his*

[imgeekgirlfan]

Down The Road (F1 x Reader) SMAU Season 1

>> Down The Road 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Next Part

Taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @jpg3 , (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

A/N : For the story of Lewis Hamilton, I drew inspiration from the romantic relationship between Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall that blossomed when they worked together for the first time. I wanted to portray it in the world of F1. Additionally, Lewis Hamilton has been a staunch supporter of female racers for many years, making him a fitting figure to play a significant role in supporting Reader to become an F1 driver. I hope you'll enjoy it.

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Season 1 : ── 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐬 ── (Lewis Hamilton x Reader) S1 : E01 𝐵𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙

Y/N's first F1 race marks the first official competition between her and Lewis Hamilton. Despite their strong mentor-student bond, within the competitiveness world of Formula 1, where there is no room for friendship, one would wonder if the intense competition will forever change their relationship, or if it had been altered long ago?

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Source: @thesportingnews

It's worth keeping an eye on this year's Japanese Grand Prix, as it is the first encounter between Hamilton and Y/N as Formula 1 competitors competing against each other on the track. Their relationship adds an intriguing layer to this race, making it more than just about the race results. Nonetheless, this is an important milestone for Formula One and will undoubtedly be a memorable part of its history, regardless of the race's outcome.

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Source: Y/N instagram (update)

“Such a warm welcome from Japanese fans! (don't forget to wish me good luck for tomorrow)”

Y/N's first Instagram post after being selected as an F1 racer, amidst a warm welcome from fellow peers in the industry

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Source: @ESPNF1

The first woman to lead an F1 race!

And the first woman to stand on the podium! 

Congratulations to @Y/N on the P3 in the F1 race. She deserves it.

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Source: @GiveMeSport

An historic moment unfolded at the Japanese Grand Prix as a thrilling battle ensued between Y/N and Lewis Hamilton for the third position. They fiercely contested each other, with Y/N emerging victorious in the final seconds, clinching P3. It marked her first podium finish in F1, while Hamilton settled for P4, missing out on a podium opportunity. Despite this, he displayed no signs of disappointment, and instead, he congratulated Y/N on her remarkable skills, acknowledging her as the brightest rising star in the current motorsport scene.

"She's made me feel like I'm looking at myself in the past," Hamilton said. "Y/N's skills are absolutely impressive, without a doubt. She's proven that she's a perfect fit for F1 racing. I couldn't be prouder of her.”

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Source: Y/N twitter (update)

“It's true, I can confirm.”

Y/N confirms the truth, as the over-the-top celebration by Lewis turned into a global internet sensation.

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Source: Y/N twitter (update)

“A memorable night in Japan. Thank you for your constant support. Love”

Y/N seems to be celebrating success with a mysterious man after securing her first P3 in the F1 race. This has sparked curiosity and speculation across the internet, creating a buzz of discussion.

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Source: Lewis Hamilton twitter (update)

Lewis Hamilton shared a photo of himself in Japan for fans to enjoy on Twitter, and some eagle-eyed fans noticed that he was wearing the same shirt as the mysterious man in Y/N's Twitter post. Fans have speculated that he might be the same person who hooked up with Y/N tonight, but there has been no confirmation from either Y/N or Hamilton.

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𝙏𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙 (in the next chapter)

Cr.https://www.sportingnews.com/us/formula-1/news/f1-drivers-2023-lineup-teams-new-season/wdvykqplavtagztd6sw7d853https://twitter.com/ESPNF1/status/1705834988711661627https://www.givemesport.com/88069766-lewis-hamilton-praises-jamie-chadwick-on-record-breaking-third-w-series-title/

[cozymochi]

Mild vent. Idk. I promise it’s not as bad as last nights utter mental shattering.

I don’t know what it is.

Maybe it’s a U.S centric Gen X mindset, or a remnant Boomer one from that “pull up your bootstraps” individualism thing, and no shade to any of the ones who follow me, my only point of reference are my parents and other older adults in my immediately family, and some friends families who tend to echo the same stuff—

Maybe it’s because a lot of my older family members never got to fulfill any particular ambition of theirs and had no choice but to work in fields they hate, maybe they overestimate how things work these days, and maybe it’s just me being an outlier…

But it’s so hard to discuss jobs especially creative ones of any kind when I’m the kind of person who is just… content working beneath somebody else. Or at least within a group professionally.

I don’t really have the ambition to start any individual practice or “be my own boss” so to speak. I don’t even feel comfortable in positions where I’m in charge of myself.

I don’t disagree that if that were to happen I’d probably be competent. I just feel more at ease and in my element when I’m able to just be given a task or assignment in a group setting and just doing it. Then going home and not think about it.

And if I outwardly say that I’m just… fine in that position I’m looked at weird and getting lectured about it. It’s not like I don’t get it… and I’m sure they just want better out of me or have a positive outlook that I could “be my own boss” in a hypothetical and have my own little business and be successful. As much as I do doubt myself in most cases, I just don’t feel any connection to those proposals at all.

I legitimately do not that any desire to do those things. At least, not now nor ever in the last few years. It just doesn’t really appeal to me.

I’ve never even got my foot in the door in a normal way yet to even know if a leap like that would work or is something I want.

I just know I’m genuinely more content just being given a task, doing it well (regardless if it ever surfaces, most don’t), and moving onto the next thing. I’m usually at my best there.

It’s a weird spot when I’m told that I can allegedly do “anything”, but when I say I just want to remain low key and I’m fine working under someone else, that suddenly isn’t a viable thing to be okay with.

“Oh you don’t wanna do THAT-“ “why dont you do this instead??” “im sure you could do this that and third and have your own —“ meanwhile I know every single one of them wanted that self sufficient whatever for themselves but never got it.

And it’s not like I’m not blind enough to see how hard, insular, exploitative and under-appreciated creative fields can be (and downright abusive, even).

I just… don’t have an urge nor want to do the most “ideal” and individualistic thing ever. I know what they’re saying is out of this idealized positivity, I get it. It’s not like I was the happiest person on earth with my old non-creative 9-5 job, yeah I would rather have been putting my skills to use, but I also don’t have much interest in being some kind of independent art business owner. Whatever that would entail. (the homies were even talking con booths and junk, like, sure hypothetically it sounds neat and shoutout to those who do it, but it’s not for me…)

I’m just… fine not shooting that high, nor being that notable. But I also didn’t hate my old job setup either. I wasn’t always excited to go in (who even is), but I didn’t hate it. I was pretty fine just …working.

Not that it matters. I don’t have a foot in that door anyway.

I don’t know. I don’t remember my point at all.

I’ll be rid of this later.

[penvisions]

no, but, see the thing is

everyone, even if he's been willing to participate, have made him the butt of the unspoken joke. they'll have him on his talk shows, they'll have him on their skits, they'll have him mentioned in articles of upcoming stuff he's only being considered for. and all for the clout that the man has, he's talented and he's popular. people recognize that to further themselves. and while yah, it was a little funny to see the interactions between kieran and they're friends in, but no one see's him for what he's done, for what he's capable of even after feeling left out and ignored for so long.

imagine if he turned down tlou because he didn't want to take on such a life changing and amazing story line because his doubts and insecurities got the better of him? what if he discontinues his work with the mandalorian and star wars because of the way the third season's writing essentially made him a background character who had impact, given all the credit his character has done to another (while the character in question is still one i admire)?

what if he stopped, decided to cut his losses and give up on his dream because of how this industry makes people like him, with his background, with his culture, feel?

there have been less than 35 hispanic winners in the history of the emmy's and for two of them to be nomited in one year was phenomenal. this was his year, he was everywhere, he was seen and he was loved. i know, i know deep down that yes it's just an award and yes it's a messed up system in which they decide, but he deserved it, dammit.

i am so, incredibly proud of this man and all that he has done, worked for, strived for, supported in his own endeavors and the endless love and light he shines on everyone around him.

he is such a kind hearted and wholesome person and to be constantly looked over when he gives his all has got to devastating on some level.

i am so excited and proud of all the winners, for beef, for the bear, for barbie, for all of the nominations that didn't even make the press and the ones that did. succession was a good show, it explored humanity and the stresses of life, the actors did an amazing job. don't mistake me on that

but i don't want this to be the thing that makes him work himself to the bone, despite an injury that requires surgery in the efforts to be recognized. i don't want this to fuel him to hurt himself further, to take roles he thinks will get him attention, to turn down the one's he wants to do and would love to do. i don't want this to change him, but it has to have effected him on some level and for that i am angry

[chcrryade]

  ⠀ര ( ˶°ㅁ°)⠀UNWRAP...⠀DOUBLE DIP! ⠀01082021⠀❘❙❚❙

Saccharin, a sound that suited the hot summer it was released in, and a colour scheme so bright it could make your eyes water, ‘DOUBLE DIP’ was simultaneously all and none of what the masses were expecting from CHERRYADE. Released on the 1st of August 2021 (digitally, that was, with physical versions only becoming available a few days later on the 5th), most look back on CHERRYADE’s debut mini album and consider it a success; remembered through smoke clouds, artificial flavouring, and a surprising lack of infighting allegations, as well as JAGUAR CEO Ae Seungdae’s reassurance through a short interview held a week before release that it would “leave a sweet aftertaste in the mouths of all who listen”—even if creative director Choi Eunhee seemed to disagree, if the hastily-covered scoff that left her lips was any indication.

⠀ᝪ  .ᐟ⠀⠀▬ ▬ ▬⠀⠀the  stats

RELEASED⠀01 & 05 / 08 / 2021

PROMOTIONAL PERIOD⠀5 WEEKS

UNITS SOLD⠀990K

WINS⠀3

⠀ᝪ  .ᐟ⠀⠀▬ ▬ ▬⠀⠀the  tracks

FUN⠀LEAD⠀WRITTEN 도연 & 대진 PROD. 대진

DANCE!⠀WRITTEN 해일 & 주순 PROD. 대진

FLAVOUR⠀PROMOTED B-SIDE⠀WRITTEN 하선 & 잘렌 PROD. 주순

SUMMER NIGHT⠀WRITTEN 잘렌 & 대진 PROD. 대진

ALL DAY⠀WRITTEN 宜君 & 잘렌 PROD. 주순

FlipSide⠀⸻⠀the  following  overviews  have  been  outsourced  from  various  netizens.  general  consensus:  ★★★★☆

ഒ⠀from  user  haeilade⠀06082021

so what did this sort-of-anticipated debut consist of, I hear you asking? well, first up is ‘Fun,’ a pretty straightforward anthem about enjoying some time in the sun to the fullest, and the track I expect will be the most performed on the various music shows the group are set to be appearing on in the coming weeks. next up is ‘DANCE!’—a song that seems to be becoming a fan-favourite b-side, in which they compare the feeling of falling in love to dancing, to flashing and falling lights, to a very summery feeling in general. it makes you want to get up and do exactly as the title tells you, and I can see why it’s climbing the ranks in the favourites department. third on the mini album comes a slight mood shift in the form of ‘Flavour,’ a bouncy and enjoyable experience no doubt hiding a number of sex innuendos in the form of the many food-and-drink-related lyrics (I mean, what are we letting ‘swell up a bit more,’ boys?), and what I predict to be the companion performance song, along with ‘Fun.’

second-to-last is ‘Summer Night,’ an upbeat affair speaking of dreams, of flying, of coaxing the listener to ‘have some fun,’ and and, on a less upbeat (but very brief) moment in the bridge, their fear of those aforementioned dreams ‘disappearing.’ and, last but not least, we have an even more noticeable shift in both mood and in tone, a much more direct attempt at a sensual (but still very enjoyable) anthem: ‘All Day.’ it doesn’t take a genius to guess at what they’re referring to. still, the delightful performances of the group and somewhat addictive whistling built into the instrumental makes it just as loveable as any of the others—in fact, it’s my personal favourite from the project as a whole, followed by ‘Flavour’ and ‘Fun,’ and I hope we’ll get a peek into the behind-the-scenes for it (and, really, all of the mini album as whole). credits-wise, all members bar gogo and jaehee contributed with lyrics, but personally I wouldn’t have cared if none of them put a pen to paper anyway.

ഒ⠀from  user  letsgogo⠀23082021

I’ve seen many people questioning the sudden flip in mood song-wise at the very end of the mini album, but as it usually is with JAGUAR, very little of those queries were answered. some have been calling it poorly structured and lacking in consistency, but some have thought up a theory for themselves (and whether they’re onto something or are just trying to make excuses to comfort themselves, at this point it’s a case of only time being able to tell)—that the change was intentional. that ‘All Day’ was setting the foundations for their next release, sort of like leaving a story on a cliffhanger; in order to get listeners intrigued enough to stick around a while longer for whatever may happen afterwards. but even if it isn’t, most of us are just happy to take it as it is, not minding the differing energy one bit—undoubtedly a positive.

another one of those was how well the seven look like they’re getting along. seeing as they’ve been stitched together from the members of past failed groups (and hand-picked from the companies those groups had been under), a large majority of people were eagerly awaiting their non-music related content (interviews, behinds, general extra things) to try and get a gauge of how they were getting along—because put-on acts of professionalism can really only work so well before someone or other starts to see through them. however, despite how hard many have been looking, not much has been found. there has been, of course, notable tension between yijun and jaehee (which hasn’t been so much of a surprise to anyone, considering their past), but the rest all seemed fine. friendly, even, if I dared to go that far. shocker!

ഒ⠀from  user  jaleon⠀25082021

past all of the apparent amicability between them, though, this debut era hasn’t been without its downs. first came the standard smoking allegations, grainy photos showcasing the smoke clouds leaking from their mouths or noses as one or two of the group huddled together round the back of the building after dark, laughing while caught up in whatever conversation they were having as they did so. longtime fans of most JAGUAR groups haven’t been deterred at all by this—most of them are just.. used to it. a nicotine addiction on the side has almost been written into the company’s contract at that point—and so these didn’t haven’t made much noise. some saw it as another good thing, if anything—they liked one another enough to hang out outside of work, so it must’ve been a positive.

there has been, however, a more serious issue that arose out of this promotional period. shortly after their first appearance as a group on inkigayo, whispers began to generate, centralising around yijun and seven, a member of senior boy group S(O)UL. the story was that an argument went south backstage, and the two parted on less-than-good terms. neither company has made any move to address it, though, and so the rumours are starting to die down—even if I doubt the feud will, and not for a while at that. I’ve heard similar whispers of mutual dirty looks also being exchanged between him and a member of group MELIORA, but even less has been said about that, so I know as much as everyone else does—pretty much nothing.

ഒ⠀from  user  hasunshine⠀06092021

styling (the outfits, as you’ll probably come to learn, are really only ever I want to talk about) this era was exactly as you’d expect something named ‘DOUBLE DIP’ to be. outlandish, bodacious, overly colourful, and with so many accessories plastered all over them it was a surprise all of their vocals during performances weren’t interrupted by the jingling and jangling of their jewellery. clunky rings, bedazzled sunglasses (and faces, and shoes, and hair.. bedazzled everything), fur hats and big caps and denim on leather on denim. you sort of just have to imagine someone’s thrown everything they can find in a vaguely-2000s second-hand store at them, and then said ‘break a leg!’—but, to their credit, they pull it off pretty well. maybe it’s just their faces.

and after that, we’ve reached the end of all I was ever intending to cover within CHERRYADE’s debut era. all that was bad brought in as much attention as any one of their performances (quite fitting with JAGUAR’s age-old motto of “all press is good press”), and overall it was very successful for the seven. I hope it’s just one of the (maybe) many more fruitful eras to come.

(¬_¬) ⠀at  a  glance  ⠀𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃⠀  doubledip.jpg ⠀(  OO3  )

[aledethanlast]

The mental image of Neil occasionally coming up to Kevin and Jean and saying Ichirou has a message for them is kinda funny. I doubt Ichirou would discuss jack over the phone, so this man has to drive all the way down to PSU—somewhere he can very easily talk to Kevin—to tell Neil what Kevin and Jean must do and then Neil has to go find Kevin and pass on Ichirou’s message, he’s gotta contact Jean and pass on the message to Jean/arrange an in-person meeting with Jean to talk, and then he’s gotta go all the way back to where Ichirou is to tell Ichirou that Kevin and Jean are following orders. It is the most exhausting game of telephone imaginable. Also, when Neil graduates, Ichirou probably still uses him as the messenger so he’s gotta go to wherever Neil is staying and then Neil has to pass on the message to the other two. The frequent flyer miles must be insane

So obviously part and parcel with the "80% of your earnings forever" deal is the implied "you're gonna do your best to maximize those earnings." This isn't really a shocker or a deal breaker since it's pretty much the obvious move for everyone involved.

However. Being a professional athlete is not the same thing as being a business owner. While their performances as a whole absolutely determine their success, a bad game does not make a bad player, and a good player won't make a good season, and sponsorships come and go according to the ever shifting winds of marketing, and on the whole having a stable career, much less a rising one, is a whole lot more complex than "line goes up."

And Ichirou knows all that, in broad strokes, but after one attempt to listen to a game commentary he decided that he would rather be shot like a lame dog than ever do that again. Holy shit that was the most boring drivel he ever heard and he has a masters degree in business management.

Which is why twice a year he summons Neil Josten to sit down and explain what, exactly, all those little updates he keeps sending actually mean.

This serves multiple purposes. One, it reminds Neil of his place in the hierarchy and keeps him in line. Two, Ichirou comes to the realization a couple of years in that Neil is actually a great layperson, as he knows how to condense reports and set expectations as well as any of the rest of Ichirous direct subordinates. Third, and this ties back into the first two, he does all of this without a single ounce of the kowtowing or ass kissing he gets from the rest of the moriyama tributaries.

Ichriou isn't sure what it is with Neil... okay that's a lie. Neil Josten is interesting because he's the only person in this house who seems to have gotten exactly what he wanted and will sooner knock the sun out of orbit than slack off or overstep. He wonders sometimes what Neil would have been like as his father's heir. Calm. Collected. Perhaps not as violent but quietly efficient.

Once, for fun or curiosity, Ichirou asked him what he would do if he were deposed as the head of the family. He forgets what Neil's answer was, only that it was satisfactorily polite. What he remembers is that first look in Neil's eye, that split second of indignity that Ichirou ever possibly assumed that Neil would care if he lived or died.

Ichirou resolves to never give him an excuse to care.

[themenendezbrothers]

Judge Weisberg his goal was to get a conviction. - Erik Menendez

ERIK MENENDEZ: His goal in that trial was to get a conviction. There is no doubt about it. It was really painful to watch. But there was nothing that I could do. There was a sense that there was something going on behind the scenes that we were not privy to. And I don't know what it was. But what I do know is that before the second trial started Judge W. said that he had reconsidered the significant rulings in the first trial and he then proceeded to officially and systematically reverse all of his important decisions. And essentially, right in front us, he took away my entire defense. We were not allowed to talk about any psychological trauma we went through and any terrorizing, or intimidation, or fear that occurred in the house. It was excluded from the trial. And he went through each witness and said "They can't testify to that. They're not allowed to testify to that." And having been the judge in the first trial, he knew exactly what the most important aspects of our case was. Our case was based on a,

–just a history of fear that I had of mom and my dad."

Excerpts from the internet.

"Judge Weissberg limited the scope of Terri Towery's cross-examination, throwing out as irrelevant some questions that probed recollections that cast Jose in a negative light."

Conn presented a new theory about the way in which the killings were carried out. Conn decided not to call Dr. Oziel to testify and instead planned to play a tape of the brothers confessing to the murders. Conn vigorously attacked the defense theory that the brothers suffered from battered person's syndrome and was successful in having Judge Weissberg rule that the defense could not present this theory to the jury. At the first trial, Bozanich believed that this defense applied to the brothers.

During the third day of Erik's testimony, Judge Weissberg limited his testimony about allegations of early childhood abuse. The judge rejected as irrelevant some of the stories the defense wanted to introduce. The judge also limited testimony that had little to do with the brothers' state of mind at the time they killed their parents. The defense argued that the brothers' early childhood trauma was critical for the jury to hear so that they could understand why the brothers thought their parents were planning to kill them.

Because Erik had "tendered his mental state" as part of his defense, Judge Weissberg ruled that Erik had to undergo a psychological examination by Dr. Dietz. Prior to his involvement in the Menendez case, Dietz had testified in numerous high-profile trials. His critics say that he is biased in favor of the prosecution.

Toward the end of the defense case, Judge Weissberg ruled that six witnesses who had testified at the first trial were irrelevant to the second trial and would not be allowed to testify. Weissberg ruled that the parents' alleged psychological mistreatment of the brothers was irrelevant.

On January 30, after presenting 25 witnesses, the defense rested. Judge Weissberg limited the number of mental health experts the defense was allowed to present. In the first trial, the defense presented five experts. At the second trial, the defense was allowed to present only one. In addition, the defense was not allowed to present the testimony of Dr. William Vicary, the psychiatrist who had treated Erik since 1990.

Judge Weissberg did not allow Vicary to testify as he had in the first trial when he testified that he believed Erik's claims of molestation and that Erik killed his parents out of fear. Vicary was allowed to testify as a rebuttal witness regarding Erik's anxiety disorders. The result was that Vicary was a much less effective witness during the second trial.

On February 16, Judge Weissberg ruled that there was insufficient evidence that the brothers were in imminent danger when they fatally shot their parents on August 20, 1989 and that the "imperfect self-defense" jury instruction that the defense sought would not be read to the jury after closing arguments. The "imperfect self-defense" theory was at the center of the defense in the first trial and convinced some of the jurors on each of the two panels to vote to convict the brothers of manslaughter instead of murder.

Judge Weissberg ruled that the defense could argue that the brothers shot Jose in the heat of passion, but not Kitty. Weissberg ruled that there was sufficient evidence to show that Jose might have provoked his sons into committing a homicide, but there was insufficient evidence to show that Kitty provoked her sons.