#but also will i truly be somewhere else like. emotionally

[merevide]

[loaksky]

— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴

the deets — in which you, a quiet healer in the tribe, have the biggest crush on the upcoming leader. sometimes you think the feelings could be mutual. until one night in the glowing forest shatters that.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — like 7.6k (jesus h. christ)

the tags — idiots-to-lovers (it's teyam, he's the dummy), childhood friends-to-lovers, one-sided pining (reader is a softie).

the warnings — language, a lil kithy kithy, neteyam's emotionally constipated, but he redeems himself! reader's kind of a pushover, but it comes full circle!

the notes — first post for avatar & i'm really excited but a lil nervous bc like ??? i haven't written fanfic in SO long. i imagine neteyam & reader to be a few years older in this fic (eighteen or nineteen), but at the same time the circumstances could fit their current age as well. finally, this is written in a heinous blend of second / third. don't know how to explain, but i think it flows okay? if you like it please leave a request or let's have a chat! (also barely proofread oops).

YOU AND NETEYAM HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IN DISTANT ORBIT. Many would argue the two of you are cut from the same cloth; quiet, noble, mature, but you couldn't feel even more disconnected from the tribe's golden boy even if a chasm would crack the earth between you.

It's why you think it's silly that you'd develop such a yearning, your heart thudding like a war drum every time his amber eyes flit to yours. There's never any weight to his gaze, just fleeting glances among frequent observation, but you can't help but stare.

It doesn't help that his youngest siblings cling to you like a second and third skin, chattering excitedly about whatever piques their immediate interest. You just listen and hum your acknowledgements, a comfort to the two as you move through your studies.

Oftentimes he's sent to fetch his siblings, clearing his throat outside of the tent's flaps to announce himself, then wiggling a few fingers through the opening before peering in.

He's always in a hurry, never biting when you offer him opportunities to linger. You understand, how busy it can be when the whole clan begins to rely on you. So you bask in the short-lived moments in his space, skin scented with salt and the tang of the foliage.

But there are moments when you truly think he sees you. When you cross paths during clan meals, and the smallest of smiles twitches in his lips when you cut fruit and he's the first you offer to. When it's time to train to shoot your bows and he adjusts your form with a brief brush of his fingers on your elbow. When all of the older healers are unavailable and he shyly peeks his head into your tent for a quick patch up.

Nevermind the small tells stored in your short-term, but the little slivers of time when you were both growing into yourselves. When you were seven and he'd carried you to the elders when you hurt yourself. When some of the older kids in the clan would pick on you for keeping to yourself and he'd tell them that it was unbecoming and cowardly to pick on someone weaker than them. When he picked a flower during a group excursion into the deep depths of the forest and stuck the glowing stem in your satchel.

You had fallen so hard for Neteyam and your only hope is that he'd be at the end of the fall to catch you.

“You're not listening, ________!” Tuk whines and you look up from the scrolls you unfurled from the basket moments before she walked in.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I have a lot on my mind.”

There's a small giggle from somewhere else in the tent and you peer from Tuk to Kiri who beads an anklet on her own.

“Yeah, like big brother,” Tuk teases, turning her attention back to her own beadwork.

Kiri's face splits into a grin.

“You've been lost in thought a lot more recently,” she observes. “Could Tuk be correct?”

You don't bother to deny it, the obvious flush in your cheeks a dead giveaway. Kiri's always been perceptive and the more you fight her on it, the longer she'll draw it out.

“I think it's worth a shot,” Kiri says. “Neteyam’s always had a soft spot for you.”

It's a million degrees hotter in the tent.

“You don't have to do that,” you say quietly, slouching in your seat.

“Do what?” Kiri challenges.

“Pretend I have a chance.”

Kiri makes a face.

“You do!” she argues. “Neteyam's just shy.”

You're silent for a moment, fingers twitching over a tear in the scroll. You want to believe her, tell her that you think it could be worth a shot, too. But you scent him before you hear him, and then you hear him before you see him.

Four blue fingers wiggle in the tent's opening before Neteyam is poking his head inside.

“Tuk? Kiri?” his voice rumbles. “Ready?”

Kiri glances at you as she stands to her feet and begins gathering her things. Her eyebrows do a little dance, eyes widening as she tilts her head discreetly to her brother.

“I'll see you,” you say quietly, patting Tuk on the back of her leg as she drops her finished anklet in your lap and giggles at you.

You follow their movements as they exit the tent through where Neteyam holds the flap open for them patiently.

He simply lifts a hand as a silent greeting and you wait until they're out of sight and earshot to expel the breath you'd been holding and slump down on your pillow.

In hindsight, you should have been more careful. Neteyam was a skillful hunter, the tribe's best warrior after his father. It's only normal that he'd be in the dense forest when you were plucking flowers and herbs for your salves, speaking quietly to Eywa about your concerns.

“Please, Great Mother,” you whisper, the woodsprites caressing the skin of your arms. "Please give me a sign, any form of motivation to be brave about my feelings."

The grass below your toes lights up and tickles the pads of your fingers as you pluck the glowing flowers.

There's a trail of them, purple and pink, and you pluck and pluck and pluck until you're led to the mouth of a clearing.

Something salty and tangy circles your figure and like usual, you scent him before you see him. When your gaze latches onto his lithe figure, you grin a little, lips parting to announce yourself. This must be your sign, of how vast and great the forests are surrounding your looming home tree, it must be fate that you stumble upon him at this hour.

But his name dies on your tongue when he shifts and you see the silhouette of another pressed to his side.

It's another Omaticaya girl, pretty and tall. You'd know her anywhere, the waves of her thick hair, the tinkle of her dainty laugh. But she is fierce all the same, far from perfect, but gritty enough that it doesn't matter.

Te'feyra draws a bow and one of Neteyam's hands come up to adjust her front grasp, fingers closing over hers and the arrow.

“Steady hands to make up for the recoil,” he says softly and your heart is in your throat.

He's engulfing her as she takes her aim and sends the arrow flying through the air.

Somewhere unknown to you, the arrow sticks its landing and Te'feyra jumps excitedly, pressing her lips to Neteyam's briefly.

You back away from the clearing, eyes burning as you fist the flowers so hard they wilt in your hands. A twig snaps underneath your weight and from your distance, you see the glow of Neteyam and Te'feyra's eyes through the brush.

You take off running without a single word, and despite your stomach tearing itself to ribbons, you thank Eywa for the clarity.

“Something's wrong,” Kiri says to you days later.

Instead of the tent, you two are sitting on opposing branches of a thick tree, observing the flora and fauna of your corner of the forest. You decide that you need some time away from the bustle of the clan's circle and venture off into the opposite side of the woods.

“Why do you say?” you wonder, scribbling onto one of your scrolls.

“You're naturally quiet, I get that, but the past few days, I feel like I've been in the presence of the dead,” she sighs, staring down at you from the branch above. “And Ewya's given me the feeling that all may not be well with you.”

You lick your teeth, then roll your lips nervously.

“I told you Neteyam didn't like me,” you admit.

Kiri's eyebrows furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw him,” you sigh, fiddling with your pen. “In the forest with Te'feyra. She kissed him.”

Kiri curses under her breath.

“This is stupid,” she huffs. “He's just being stupid. Neteyam likes you and I'm going to prove it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Kiri's already jumping down from the branches of the tree and dragging you with her through the darkening forest.

“Kiri, this isn't necessary,” you finally pipe up. “It's okay if the feeling isn't mutual, I never expected it to be.”

Kiri stops in her tracks and her pinched face softens, braids swinging by the set of her jaw.

“________, we all grew up together,” she says softly. “I know my brother, and I know you. You two belong together, I feel it.”

You swallow around nothing, allowing her to drag you through the forest and back into the clan's main circle.

“Hey, Kiri! ________, where are you two headed off to in such a rush?” one of the elders calls from where they're working on tools.

Kiri smiles politely.

“Very important business,” she replies quickly, fingers tightening around your wrist to pull you across the grass.

You stop in front of their family's hometree and Kiri guides you through vines and steep inclines before pausing in front of their family's tent.

Lo'ak's voice sounds from within, whiny and irritated.

“Bro, are you being serious right now?” he squeaks and Neteyam grunts, obviously bored.

“Frankly, Lo'ak this has nothing to do with you,” he says.

“Dude, yes it does,” Lo'ak argues. “You've inadvertently involved everyone in this affair because you won't get your head out of your ass for three seconds and just admit that you like her.”

“I don't like, ________,” he says simply and Kiri freezes in front of you.

You chew the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching in Kiri's loosened hold.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lo'ak moans. “You're really going to commit to Te'feyra even though you have no interest in her?”

“Te'feyra is a great huntress,” Neteyam says simply. “She's well-loved, a strong leader. What's there not to like?”

“________ is all of those things,” Lo'ak says. “She's a talented healer, always patches you up when you get yourself in trouble. The clan loves her, Tuk and Kiri love her, Mom and Dad love her.”

“The clan barely knows that ________ exists,” Neteyam says and you wince.

Kiri makes a move to infiltrate the heated conversation, but you put a hand on her shoulder and shake your head.

“Dude, that's low,” Lo'ak scoffs in disbelief.

“________ is a sweet girl, but she's weak. She's hollow and does what she's told. I wouldn't want to spend my life bonded to someone so passive,” Neteyam says plainly and Lo'ak lets out an exasperated hiss.

“You're kidding right? ________ is amazing,” Lo'ak challenges. “She's quiet, but she's caring. She's resilient and intelligent and anyone would be lucky to be bonded to someone like her, your stupid ass included.”

“Maybe you should focus more on training for your rite rather than trying to play matchmaker,” Neteyam says, showing the first signs of annoyance.

“You just won't admit that for the first time you're scared,” Lo'ak finally says.

Everything seems to still and Lo'ak presses on.

“Everyone loves you, you're the clan's golden child and you can do no wrong. You like ________ so much, but you're afraid that you'll let her down,” Lo'ak says fiercely. “But you don't realize that being a pussy about your feelings is the ultimate let down!”

“You'd know a lot about being a let down, wouldn't you,” Neteyam grumbles.

There's a split second of silence before Neteyam lets out a loud grunt of pain. The flap to their tent flies open and Lo'ak freezes before you and Kiri.

His eyes meet yours and his gaze softens before stalking past.

Neteyam stands stunned in the middle of the tent, lip bruised and bleeding. His gaze swings to the arch way, face falling when he finds you standing behind his younger sister.

“Wanna go swimming?” Tuk asks you the next evening, after dinner.

You smile down at her weakly, heart melting when she pets your hand. You can't deny her, nodding gently as you stand from where you're sitting on the outer circle of the scattered clan.

“Carry me?” she asks sweetly.

You heave her up with a grunt and she grins at you, playing with one of the braids in your hair. Her small fingers caress the skin of your cheek and you blink when she ghosts over your eyelid.

“Pretty,” she whispers, head nestling on your shoulder.

“I think you're prettier,” you tell her, readjusting her growing form as you walk through the brush, towards the rush of the waterfall.

You don't realize that there's a set of eyes on you, watching as you disappear through the trees with Tuk.

The cliff that houses the waterfall towers above you two in a semicircle, the water rippling gently as Tuk squirms from your grasp and splashes through the shallow pool.

“Stay close, Tuk,” you coo, toes wiggling through the pebbles washed up on the tiny shore.

“I've been practicing!” Tuk tells you. “Wanna see how long I can hold my breath under water?”

“Stay in shallow waters,” you advise her, wading into the pool until you're waist deep.

Tuk dramatically inhales and then sinks down under the surface. Something cracks in the distance and you glance around, met with the stillness of the forest and the chirp of bugs.

When you turn your attention back to Tuk, you smile fondly as you wait for her to emerge, counting the seconds diligently to report to her chubby cheeks.

Fifteen pass, then thirty. Your smile begins to fade as your arms feel around in the water around you.

“Tuk?” you call out, chest tightening when you're met with the subtle rush of the glittering cascade from the waterfall up above.

You push forward in the water until your chin touches the surface.

“Tuktirey!” you shout, thrashing around the pool, searching for her tiny frame through the illumination. “Tuk!”

Your toes lose purchase as the water deepens and you begin to panic without the youngest Sully in sight. You turn when you hear a splash, Tuk giggling on the shore.

Your stomach churns hard and Tuk's face falls when she sees your panicked expression.

“Tuk, I-I can't swim well!” you cry out, legs flailing as you splash through the water. You try to dig your toes in the earth below, but you're just shy of the mark.

Tuk looks scared on the shore, fidgeting as she looks around desperately.

“You're too deep, ________!” Tuk whines, voice laced with tears.

Your legs ache, head lolling under the water for a moment before you emerge with a splutter.

“Get– Go get help!” you instruct her, feeling your calves begin to burn as you try to keep yourself afloat. You don't know how long you'll be able to tread water. “I'll be okay, little one. Hurry!”

Tuk turns, picking up her satchel as she makes way for the path you took. When she's out of sight, you fall slack, chest heaving as you try to use your skinny arms to paddle at the water.

Meanwhile, Tuktirey runs through the forest, tears spilling down her rounded cheeks as she trips over sprawling roots and nudges low-hanging vines from the pathway.

She skids to a stop when Neteyam, who had finally worked up the nerve to excuse himself from dinner, comes into view.

He turns when he hears her wailing, face scrunching when he registers his youngest sibling's anguish.

“Tuk, wha—”

She grabs at his hands, tugging him towards the path to the waterfall.

“________ needs help!” she cries. “She can't swim!”

Neteyam's ears prick at the mention of your name, scooping up his youngest sibling in his arms before breaking into a sprint through the brush of the brightening forest. The woodsprites begin to emerge and he barrels into the clearing of the waterfall breathlessly.

It's still, like it's been untouched and his heart hammers nervously in his chest, eyes searching the pool for any sign of you.

He's setting Tuk down quickly before splash desperately into the water.

“_______!” he calls.

He ducks underneath the surface, eyes open wide as he searches for you. And there you are, body slack as you sink slowly to the bottom of the rocky pool.

He dives forward, lungs burning as he cuts through the waters with lean arms. His fingers circle one of your wrists, the other hand winding around your waist as he propels you two up above the water. He chokes on a breath, hand coming up to touch your face.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes shut as Neteyam holds you close.

“Neteyam!” Te'feyra calls from the shore, having followed him after being rebuffed during dinner.

Kiri and Lo'ak are close behind, eyes wide when they see their eldest brother wading quickly through the waters with your unconscious form in his arms.

“Neteyam,” Te'feyra repeats, hand coming to grasp his bicep.

“Not now,” he grunts, tugging his arm from her grasp to march through the brush of the forest.

Woodsprites surround you two as he takes you back to the village, a silent plea to the Great Mother not to take you away weighing heavy on his lips.

You awake to a shining sun and a wet towel on your head. You squint against the beaming light and sit up abruptly as the prior night dawns you like a swift strike to the gut.

“Whoa, wait, slow down,” a thick voice rumbles.

You scent him before you see him.

Neteyam's hands are on you, guiding you back to rest on the pile of pillows that had propped you up before.

You shoot up again anyways.

“Where's Tuk?” you ask anxiously.

“Tuk's fine,” Neteyam says. “She's eating breakfast with Kiri and Mom.”

You lean back in relief, eyes squeezing shut as you wheeze out a sigh.

His hands are on you again, gentle, warm as he takes the towel from your forehead and wipes your face to refresh you.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, hesitantly.

You pause a moment, but then nod.

“Yeah,” you affirm hoarsely. “M'fine.”

Neteyam just stares at you, yellow eyes unblinking and you know this isn't like one of those fleeting moments. He sees you and it makes your gut churn hard.

“I'll be okay here,” you say quietly. “You may have...someone, you know, waiting for you.”

Te'feyra's name is a silent implication and Neteyam doesn't look amused.

“I told them I would look after you until you're fully well,” he counters, wringing the towel into a bowl that sits next to the mound of blankets your rest on.

You fiddle with your fingers, fully disheartened because even in times like these, he remains the diligent leader-in-training that he is.

The air in the tent is think and you can't breathe.

“I'd like some air,” you whisper, crawling from the soft mat to climb to your feet shakily.

“You need to rest,” Neteyam says crossly, seemingly annoyed at your persistence to put as much distance as you can between the two of you.

You don't respond and finally he seems to burst.

“You can't swim and yet you still went after Tuk,” he calls after you like an accusation. “Why?”

You pause.

“Tuk is like a sister to me,” you say quietly. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

You make a move to exit the tent, but Neteyam's voice stops you in your tracks.

“You could have died,” he says quietly, and you can't place the emotion in his voice.

“I'd do it again,” you admit, craning your neck to face him. “I'm not that weak.”

Neteyam's face falls and you duck from the tent.

Neteyam becomes restless after that moment. He loses his focus, agility taking a hit as he hunts one on one with his father.

He goes to shoot another arrow, but Jake stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Neteyam, I know I can be hard on you,” he starts. “But I’m always here.”

“Yes sir,” Neteyam nods.

“Something’s bothering you,” Jake observes. “You’re not yourself. You’re losing focus.”

Neteyam swallows.

“Sorry, sir,” he says, head hanging.

His braids form a curtain around his face and Jake gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“Son?”

Neteyam swallows again, head tilting up to look is dad in the face.

“I don’t want to be with Te’feyra,” he admits quietly.

Jake's lips twitch.

“Well I could have told you that,” Jake scoffs, the corner of his lips twitching into a soft smile. “You look about as dead as a washed up fish when she’s around.”

Neteyam recalls the kiss she’d given him nights ago and how he'd internally recoiled, body stiff under her touch.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why are you sorry?” Jake prods.

“Because I know Te’feyra is who the clan wants me to be with, who is my most suitable match,” he says. “I just— I don't want to let you down.”

Jake gives him an impish grin.

“Neteyam, let me give you a word of advice. There are things in this world that are suited well for each other; you and Te'feyra are one of those things. But your heart and your mind are the two most powerful things about you,” he says. “You will not be punished for giving into your heart.”

Neteyam thinks of you. He thinks of your face, the lines of your timid smile, the idents that dimple your cheeks. He thinks of your touch when he's wounded, gentle and expert, warm against his skin. He thinks of your voice, airy, soft, a low rasp.

He thinks of when he'd called you weak. Of your face, wounded and hurt. He's stricken in this moment as he realizes that strength doesn't have to be audacious. It can be quiet, small acts that become mighty.

Tuk had told him about the waterfall, how she'd wanted to pull your leg a little. You'd accepted your fate if Ewya deemed it time, you'd even sent the youngest away in the chance you wouldn't surface.

You were far from weak. Your strength ran nearly as deep as the roots of Ewya herself, yet you'd taken the criticism in stride. Let Neteyam paint you as a coward, a pushover with no spine.

“I think there’s someone you need to clear the air with,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “She should be in her tent.”

Neteyam's hands are clammy. It's been nearly a week since he'd last seen you. You'd reserved to spending time inside of your tent to brush up on your studies and refine your work. He'd catch glimpses of you, but you were used to blending in the background and Neteyam's used to overlooking you.

Was he being presumptuous? Maybe you only admired him as a warrior. Or perhaps it was a duty to the clan to revere him. He feels sick to his stomach thinking of confronting you. But Lo'ak wouldn't try to convince him of his own feelings if it wasn't mutual, would he?

And when had the feelings become mutual? He's recently began to think that perhaps he'd always liked you because you were the only one who didn't actively vie for his affection. Who only saw him as Neteyam, an equal, not Neteyam, the Olo’eyktan's son.

Maybe it was whenever he'd see you wandering in the forest during his hunting trips, murmuring to yourself as you picked herbs and flowers for you studies. Or maybe when he'd spot you still high on the branches of the lofty trees with a tablet of paper and ink. Maybe it was when you'd smile at him shyly when he'd adjust your form during archery and it'd melt his insides. Or when you two were little and he'd plucked flowers for everyone and you were the only one who'd smiled at it sticking out of your satchel.

If he recalls correctly, it's pressed to a scroll hanging in your tent and that alone makes his heart race.

Maybe you two are inevitable and he'd only prolonged it because of his own fears.

“Neteyam!”

Te’feyra steps in his line of sight, standing before him and the hometree that houses your tent. He glances away when she stops in front of him.

“Te’feyra,” he greets cordially.

“I haven't seen you since the incident with ________,” she says. “Are you alright?”

Neteyam nods.

“Never better,” he says simply.

“After dinner we should–”

He spots you, satchel thrown over your shoulder. You glance his way momentarily, but scurry in the direction of your tent when you lock eyes with him.

“If you will excuse me, please,” he says politely, extricating himself from Te’feyra to follow after you.

He catches up to you right outside of your tent.

“________!” he calls.

You freeze almost imperceptibly, but continue on your way, climbing the flattened incline spiraling around the center of the hometree.

“________,” he murmurs, fist closing around your skinny bicep.

You jolt to a stop, golden eyes razor sharp as you glance down at him. Your fist is wrapped tight around the strap of the satchel, knuckles stretched taut.

“Neteyam,” you reply softly. “Yes?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but finds that his tongue weighs heavy behind his lips.

“If you seek help, there are elders available for healing,” you inform him, making a move to remove your arm from his grasp.

He instinctively tightens his grasp and you shift uncomfortably.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quietly, pulling away. “I just want to speak with you.”

A few beats pass as you blink at him.

“Well?”

“Oh,” he swallows. “Can I come in?”

You turn to face the flap of your tent before craning your long neck over your shoulder to nod.

“Sure,” you agree, holding the hide open to let him in.

You step in after him, table scattered with mixtures of finely-pounded dust, scrolls of research and bundles of materials.

You set your satchel down and begin unloading your finds from you excursion.

Meanwhile, Neteyam paces nervously, trailing the circumference of your tent, eyes flitting every which way to take in every piece of you.

A thick silence envelops you and you clear your throat when the satchel is empty.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, watching as he stops in front of a scrolled tacked to one of the beams.

It's the pressed flower he'd given to you all that time ago as children. It's central in the room, catching the sun so beautifully and Neteyam uses this as the last bit of courage he needs to continue.

“You kept it,” he says, voice shaky.

“Of course,” you say simply, picking through your different finds. “You gave it to me.”

Neteyam turns, looks you head on and he feels his resolve crumbling.

“You like me,” he says bluntly, afraid that if he beats around the bush, he'll cop out.

“Everyone does,” you deflect.

Neteyam's jaw locks.

“No, ________, you like me,” he repeats.

You feel small, sorting the petals by color, fingers nimble against the soft grain of the wooden tabletop.

“Presumptuous,” you hum, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“________,” he presses.

You bite your lip, tears clouding your vision as your fingers begin to trembling through the sorting. He's being so unfair and he doesn't even know it.

“Why?” you ask shakily.

“What do you mean why?” Neteyam counters, voice taking on the same edge he did with his brother days prior and he'd interrogated him about you.

“Why are you doing this?” you croak, and he hears the tears in your voice.

He's across the floor before you can blink.

“Are you crying?” he asks, shocked.

“Why do you want me to say it so badly?” you choke, poor petals strangled in your vibrating fist. “Is it not enough? To know that I yearn for you silently? That everyone pities me because my heart belongs to someone who's already spoken for?”

Neteyam is stunned.

“I like you, Neteyam. I always have,” you say, voice raw with emotion. “It's my biggest defeat to say I always will. Is that what you want to hear?”

Your eyes are tinged red and his throat feels stuffed with cotton.

“I've always admired you,” you say quietly, between hiccuping breaths. “But I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

Neteyam winces, every word he’d practiced earlier, completely obliterated from his short term. He knows he should just tell you, tell you that his heart yearns for yours, too. That he'd been too blinded by his impending duty to feel the full effects of what a first love could be like.

“You should go,” you say when he's silent.

You brush your tears away and pat your cheeks dry with the back of your hands as you carefully set the wilted flowers the the edge of the table.

“I–”

“Neteyam, spare me, please.”

“I don’t want to,” he finally says.

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes swollen as you gaze at him unjaded. Who he believed to be so stoic and passive now baring every possible inch to him.

“You're–”

“I don't want to be with Te'feyra,” he finally spits, fists clenched. “I won't be with her.”

Your gaze softens, lips parting to ask what's gotten into him, but he cuts you off.

“You,” he answers firmly, before the question clings in the air. “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

"Stop," you whisper, shaking your head furiously. You take a step away from where he's quickly closing in on you. “Don't–”

He pauses mid-stride and the expression on his handsome face is absolutely devastating. His chest rises and falls shakily and you take a moment to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before,” he says desperately, “I was scared and didn't fully realize it, but I do now.”

“That’s unfair,” you hiccup. “This isn't just on your terms. You can’t— you can’t just tell me you like me and expect me to be with you.”

These passing moments are the most he’s ever heard you speak, and he’s afraid that he's severely underestimated you. It doesn’t taste so sweet now that he’s faced with the reality of things.

“You will be the future leader of this clan,” you continue. “That is a great responsibility that you've prepared for your entire life. Who you decide to be with is a permanent fixture that cannot be undone.”

“I know, I know,” he assures you.

“You find it in your heart pity me, Neteyam,” you breathe quietly. “But do you really want to be bonded to someone passive and weak?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you've squared your shoulders, stomach caving and expanding with a deep breath. You turn to your prior task.

“You should go,” you repeat. “Duty calls.”

“What do you mean you need help?” Kiri asks incredulously, eyes widened at her older brother.

“________,” Neteyam says. “She's icing me out.”

Kiri's face melts in relief and she scoffs a laugh.

“Do you blame her?”

“Kiri!” he pleads.

Kiri stops her movements, falling back on her haunches to meet Neteyam's desperate gaze. It's so unlike him, being uncertain, nervous. He's picked up the habit of fiddling his fingers and Kiri snorts to herself.

“Actions,” she says simply.

“Huh?” he vocalizes.

“Words mean nothing to ________ if your actions don't support them,” she says. “This entire time you've acted so lukewarm towards her. Of course she won't believe you when you decide to acknowledge that you love her.”

Neteyam's throat bobs as he stares down at his sister.

“And how will I do that?” he presses.

Kiri shrugs.

“Not so mighty warrior now, are we?”

As the days progress, you begin to grasp at finally coming to terms with the tattered remains of what's left of you and Neteyam's frayed relationship. Your heart hasn't stonewalled him completely, but the yearning for him has dulled to a slight ache.

His eyes are piercing every moment you share the same vicinity. Kiri would even try to argue you that it's longing, but Neteyam's a slave to his honor and you aren't convinced.

“You should pity the poor boy,” an elder tells you as you cut up ingredients for the evening's dinner.

You pause, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. You roll your lips together before briefly meeting her gaze, warm under firelight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, clearing your throat.

She laughs, peeling a purple fruit.

“Neteyam,” she says forwardly. “Hasn’t taken his eyes off you in who knows how long. Will you continue to let him suffer?”

You want to argue that it's you who's suffering. That the heart that beats inside the hollow of your ribcage feels like it'll tear in two every time you recall the venom in Neteyam's voice when he'd called you weak.

“I doubt his suffering has anything to do with me,” you say instead. “We are only acquaintances.”

The elder laughs again.

“Is that why he's been pestering the elders for input on how to sway your heart?”

Your head shoots up from where you've focused on the fine cuts of vegetables.

“What?”

“He’s been slacking on his duties, instead poking around the elders and villagers trying to pry information about you,” she says. “Heard him muttering about what kind of flowers you like.”

“It will take more than flowers to sway my heart,” you mumble.

“So you admit that there's something there, hmm?”

Your cheeks heat, caught like a fish in warm waters.

“I–”

“I'd argue that Neteyam’s liked you longer than you've liked him,” the elder says simply.

You bite.

“Why do you say that?”

“He's always asked Eywa for courage, and it seems like she gave you as an answer.”

The elder climbs to her feet, leaving you near the open flame. You open your mouth to call out to her, but the scent of salt and leaves envelops you before you can say anything.

You crane your neck and find Neteyam a few paces from you.

“Do you have a few moments?” he asks politely.

You want to say no, tell him that you'd offered him an infinite amount of moments that he'd spent building bridges between the two of you, but if he's a slave to his honor, you're bound by heart.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, abandoning your task.

He holds his hand out for you to take and your fingers slide across his warm palm as he pulls you to your feet. Once he secures your hold in his, he tugs you along.

You don't know where he's taking you, or what he could possibly want with your time, but you feel a thousand times more nervous than ever now that the tangled web of your feelings drapes the both of you.

After a few moments of rugged silence, climbing through bushes and brush, he punctures the quiet.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer after a moment. “You?”

“Truthfully?” he responds, pausing to face you. You realize his hand still engulfs yours. “No.”

“No?” you parrot shakily.

“No,” he affirms. “I've been hurting actually.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“You should seek help if you have an ongoing–”

“Here,” he says, the hand still caught in his being guided to lay flat against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage. “It hurts here.”

You swallow, pulling away from his grasp when you realize his insinuation.

“Don’t,” you warn.

He breathes a shaky sigh before taking a step towards you. He's corded muscle and warmth as his palm comes to cradle your jaw. Your bottom lip twitches as you stare up at him.

“It’s always been you,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your chin as his eyes map every curve of your face. “I think I’ve always known it deep down, but...”

Your hand comes up to meet his, gently prying his touch away.

“Neteyam,” you sigh. “Had the last few days unfolded differently, I don't think you'd been saying this now.”

“Maybe not now,” he agrees. “But one day, I would. I know I would. Because when I recall every fond moment, you’re there. No matter how close to the background you get, you’re always there.”

You look skeptical, and Neteyam knows he's losing you. So he digs in the small knapsack he has slung over his broad shoulders and pulls out something thin.

When he holds it up with shaky fingers, your breath catches in your throat. Strung through the taut brown of tree vine is a line of beads identical to the one that he wears on a braid tucked behind his ear. Upon closer inspection, you notice the blue and purple beads formed to create your favorite flowers.

“Wha—”

“Until you decide you want to be mine,” he says, voice trembling nervously as he takes your arm and gently slides the band up until it fits snuggly around your bicep. “So that you remember I'm always yours.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as he brings your fingers up to his lips.

“I won’t push you,” he says when he realizes your words have evaded you. “But I’ll wait for you.”

“Neteyam–”

He simply smiles at you, golden eyes shy as he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. He seems satisfied, triumphant, when you eye the band but make no moves to remove it.

“I’ll wait for you,” he repeats, giving your fingers a squeeze before running off.

“He did what?” Lo’ak shrills a week later.

The younger three Sully's had hunted you down and brought you to the clearing dedicated to archery training.

Slender fingers wrap around your wrist and elbow to turn your arm to examine the band with wide eyes.

You can’t help but smile gently to yourself, watching the way the sun catches the reflection of the pearlescent beads and reflects them brightly.

“I knew that dummy was planning something,” Kiri grumbles. You bite your lip when she meets your gaze. “Well?”

“Well what?” you ask, arm still in Lo’ak’s grasp.

He twists playfully and your laugh glitters in the air.

"Are you going to put my knucklehead brother out of his misery or what?" Kiri hisses, arm drawing to shoot a arrow that stabs the target about a centimeter too left.

Tuk giggles as she runs up to the target to examine the damage.

“Yeah, please do, he's in love and it's disgusting,” Lo'ak grumbles, still eyeing the cuff.

Your heart skips at the mention of love, cheeks going warm when both Kiri and Lo'ak notice how you've gone quiet. They begin laughing, dealing you playful punches.

“Stop that,” you scold, swatting their hands away. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Oh, get real!” Kiri huffs. “You are so in love, you know you'll say yes.”

“Please put me out of my misery,” Lo'ak moans. “I'm tired of being his therapist because he's a little bitch.”

“Lo'ak,” you warn, eyes narrowing.

He giggles and Kiri stifles a laugh as you flounder, cheeks blooming under the siblings' teasing.

“You are both so awful,” you say petulantly, arms crossing one over the other. “How are you so sure I’ll return his feelings?”

It's Kiri's turn to groan, eyes rolling.

“Sure enough that I know if I let you in on a little secret, it'll light a fire under your ass,” she says seriously.

Your spine goes rigid, arms loosening as you wait with bated breath.

“Neteyam may choose you, but if you don’t choose him back quickly enough, someone could swoop in and claw that chance from you,” she shrugs.

Te'feyra's name is an ugly insinuation and something green coils its way into the pit of your stomach as you recall the chaste kiss she'd pressed to Neteyam's lips all those nights ago in the forest.

“Gears turning?” Lo'ak lilts.

They definitely are and suddenly you feel small, digging your big toe into the dirt to drag lines through the forest floor. You nod hesitantly, band suddenly tight around your bicep.

In your ruminating, Lo'ak and Kiri pass a knowing glance.

“Well?” Lo'ak prods.

You fidget, rattling with nerves.

“I suppose...”

Lo'ak sighs and his hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the clearing.

“Where are we going?” you squeak.

“To put everyone out of their misery,” Lo'ak huffs.

The forest seems way more alive than usual, glowing so bright it almost overpowers the sun. Woodsprites gather around as Lo'ak nudges you through the thick foliage and you can't help but think about the sweet smile that curled on Neteyam's lips as he assured you that he was yours. All yours.

The fire crackles in the distance and you know that the morning meal is in the works when voices roar quietly meters away.

Neteyam sits near the center, surrounded by elders and the dreaded girl.

Te'feyra's obliterated every single centimeter of space available, nearly melded to his side as the elders talk animatedly over the two.

You want to turn back, uncertainty vice-like, but Lo'ak squeezes your shoulders as a silent plea. Not even a moment passes before Neteyam peels himself away and begins putting distance between them.

When Te'feyra gives him a curious glance, he gives her an uneasy smile.

“Be courageous, ________,” Lo'ak encourages. “You're one of the strongest people I know.”

With a final pat on the back, he pushes you towards the circle and the sudden movement catches everyone's gaze.

“________,” one of the elders calls fondly.

You smile and bow your head, fingers twitching at your sides.

“Hello,” you greet quietly, eyes swooping hesitantly to Neteyam who rises to his feet, already watching you intently.

That's when you notice it, the choker fastened around his throat. The vine is identical to yours, but it's strung with a line of beads that mirror the ones woven into a singular braid at the nape of your neck.

You hadn't realized that he'd noticed it all this time, but it's the ultimate confirmation that Neteyam sees you. And when he notices that you notice, he smiles softly.

The elders notice as well, drawing the link between your arm band and the necklace that Neteyam wears, now that you two stand opposite each other.

“May I borrow Neteyam for a moment?” you ask politely.

The same elder you prepared with the evening prior gleams a wide smile when Neteyam takes a step towards you, fingers brushing delicately with yours.

Te'feyra remains seated, lips twitching as her gaze flits between the two of you.

“By all means,” one of them says. “Take your time.”

You bow your head again, heart thudding when Neteyam's fingers twine with yours and he lets you drag him out of the circle and deeper into the forest.

When you deem that no prying eyes or ears surround you, you stop, Neteyam bumping softly into your back. The hair on the back of your neck bristle when he makes no moves to extricate himself from you, simply moving your braids from your face to reveal the string of beads tucked near the nape of your neck.

“You needed me?” he whispers, fingers still ghosting the skin of shoulder.

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut as you relish the moment. Your fingers are still locked and for a fleeting second, you pretend that it's always been like this, the two of you.

“I am nothing extraordinary,” you start, and Neteyam's fingertips pause at your elbow.

“I'd argue differently,” he responds.

“I value time alone and I get overwhelmed often,” you continue.

“We all have our moments,” is his rebuttal as the hand covering yours squeezes gently.

You sigh.

“I could—”

Neteyam turns you and you're met with the the choker, beads glinting under the light. Your eyes drag up the column of his strong neck, flit past his soft lips and finally lock with his searing gaze.

“You can try all you want to run me off,” Neteyam laughs quietly, cupping your jaw. “But I'm not scared anymore.”

Your expression is skeptical and Neteyam decides to bite the bullet. He's closing in on you and your heart pounds violently in your chest.

“Neteyam,” you whisper weakly, hand coming up to his chest.

He traps your fingers against his heart, lips slotting between yours before you can protest some more.

It's like the forest comes alive around you, grass tickling between your toes as you melt under his touch and lean up into his mouth.

His hands are everywhere at once, branding your cerulean skin as he kisses you like it's your last moments. There's no hesitation, no feeling it out, just his warm breath and his soft lips as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“I'll take you as you are at any moment,” he says breathlessly between kisses. “You just have to say you want me back, ________. Please.”

You nod, nose brushing against his as one of his palms splay at the small of your back and the other grabs your chin, pulling you back to plant another burning kiss on your lips.

“Say it,” he begs.

Your eyes begin to mist as you nod again eagerly, parting for a moment to whisper the words.

“I'm yours,” you hoarse, hands on either side of his neck. “I'm yours if you'll be with me.”

Neteyam simply kisses you again, a satisfied hum rumbling from his built chest.

“Fucking finally,” a whisper sounds from the brush.

A LIL' BONUS

“You think they would have figured it out on their own?” Lo'ak asks, wolfing down his food.

Kiri shrugs, feeding Tuk a piece of fruit from her wooden plate.

“Maybe,” she says, unable to suppress her proud grin. “Maybe not. They're both stupid."

“I think so,” Te'feyra laughs watching you and Neteyam fondly from across the fire. “They were a long time coming.”

an – thank you SO much if you've made it this far! again, leave a request or let's chat hehehe. up next is lo'ak so stay tuned! :)

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neng © 2023

[loveemagicpeace]

9th house of marriage/ travel/ believe💍⛵️🎨

9th house is very beautiful house and have a lot of things that are so amazing. It represent luck, travel, faith, long journeys, adventure, philosophy, teaching, higher education, quest for meaning. It means exploring the unknown and having fun doing it. Wisdom & greater understanding of ourselves and the world around us. Here we seek answers to life’s bigger questions. Get to know the world around you. Learning and growth. And it is also the house of marriage (how do you see marriage , what kind do you want to have, what beliefs do you have about it).

This in signs through houses and I actually believe that 9th house is so much more connected to marriage and wedding live than it is 7th house. 7th house represents the person you love the relationship you want or need & what it is good for you and the marriage you want. And yes it is connected to wedding and which wedding do you want to have or where do you want to have but it’s more like thinking it’s not doing it. And yes 7th house is your first marriage you have and the 9th house is your second marriage (if you have the second marriage)but most likely 9th house is more connected to the spiritual bonding the spiritual marriage do you have with someone. And how marriage grows.

✨Aries in 9th house - you go on with your life inspired by a higher meaning. You feel independent in your own world and love to explore all parts of the world. Above all, this energy is more related to you. You like things that are bold and spontaneous. That's why your wedding can be spontaneous and not expected. It can also mean that you will have a bold wedding. And you want to always have good energy and action in your marriage. It can also be a quick wedding. Your spiritual curiosity keeps your faith at high levels and helps you move forward through the challenges of life.

🦊Taurus in 9th house- you love to travel and you are strongly connected with mother nature. Many of them decide to live far away from where they were born. You explore the world slowly and with pleasure. You like to enjoy life and like to experience the energy of other countries and cultures. Your wedding can be old school. It can have many flowers and it can also be in the garden. Maybe a wedding in a castle or something similar. But it's usually always simple. Your marriage is usually nice and pleasant. You can enjoy a lot with a person and share a lot with them.

🌵Gemini in 9th house-you can learn new things very quickly and you can quickly adapt to a foreign environment. But you also like to change things, which means you like to travel but you don't like to stay in one place for a long time. Even your beliefs can change. You like to discover new things. They like to talk and write on philosophical and religious topics. Marriage may not be a priority for you. But you are the person who will want to have a written promise and read it aloud at the wedding. Your wedding can be very interesting. But it can also mean that you get married more than once.

🏝️Cancer in 9th house- usually, people with this placement feel other places more than their own. Maybe you can feel that your home is somewhere else. And you can spend a long time looking for a place where you will truly feel at home. You have an emotional approach to things you believe in and are important to you. They can travel with their minds a lot, especially when not wanting to be far away from the places they’re used to. Your wedding will be where you will feel the most safe, beautiful and emotionally refined. And in a place where you will feel the energy. It can usually involve more family and people close to you. Your marriage will be emotional, comfortable and safe (maybe it can be with someone you've known for a long time).

🫧Leo in 9th house- you are very passionate when it comes to traveling and you like to experience new things. You like to party. This brings a dynamic and spirited energy to higher learning, spirituality, and exploration. They’re only going places in which they can learn new things and experience something from a spiritual point of view. Inspiration comes easily for them because they’re enthusiastic and ready to live their life in the most beautiful manner. The wedding will be big and there will be many people at it. Usually, the wedding is dramatic and contains a lot of people that you may not know very well. But you are usually with the person from your childhood.

🌙Virgo in 9th house- you tend to criticize a lot or always have something that could be better than it is. You are smart and focused, meaning that you can find solutions to problems easier than others. You are pragmatic when it comes to matters of philosophy and religion. You have your own principle about what you believe in and you stick to it. A wedding can often be practical and contain many details. At the same time, you can be a person who can analyze everything before getting married. Marriage is usually aimed at wanting it to be perfect and practical. Animals may also be present at the wedding.

💘Libra in 9th house-you can travel a lot with your partner and explore a lot with him. Relationships help you grow and become your own person. You believe in the beauty of the world and everywhere you go you find something that is really beautiful to you. You can dream a lot about places and want to experience as much as possible. You can fall in love with places and corners of the world. You see life as something worth living for. And you want to experience love through travel and exploration. You can do all activities with a partner or someone you have an emotional bond with. You can meet the love of your life while traveling. Or you have someone who is from another country. Even your wedding can be in a foreign country. Your marriage can be very beautiful and pleasant. You can travel a lot with this person and have fun and learn a lot from your partner as well. Can also be a dream wedding.

🩵Scorpio in 9th house- you deeply believe in things that are important to you. You have an intense view of the world and events. You like to travel to places that are mystical, mysterious and by the water. You like trips that bring you some inner healing. You experience a lot of transformation when you travel, and that's how you grow the most. Your wedding can be somewhere out in the open or even secret (so no one will even know you got married). Many things that will happen between you and your partner will remain hidden from others. Everything just between you two. You value privacy.

⭐️Sagittarius in 9th house- you live life to the fullest and with optimism. You live like every day is your last. You have a lot of passion for travel and this is where you find yourself the most. You can deal a lot with spirituality and things related to it. You can teach others a lot. And you can tell a lot about your travels. But you can have a strict opinion about what you think and about your view of the world. You accept all people and cope well with unknown things. You can gain a lot from your partner. U two can also travel a lot. Your wedding will most likely be in another country. Your marriage will be active, interesting, optimistic, fun and full of travel.

🎸Capricorn in 9th house-this has a significant impact on a person's views, academic pursuits, journey, and devotion. Capricorn signifies ambition, discipline, and realism. You may travel a lot on business or your job is active. You like to help others and look out for society. Usually these people do not have specific beliefs or have a hard time believing in anything. It may be more difficult to find trust and faith in something, but when they find it, they feel a sense of responsibility towards this. The marriage with the partner is more likely to be busy or perhaps even more distant. Or both have a more public role. Even your marriage can be publicly exposed.

🪴Aquarius in 9th house-you will probably resist anything that will be publicly exposed. You will never believe in the church or have any special contact with it (unless you have some aspects of the planet that are different). You will not be everything that others believe. You will have your faith. You will be too lazy to learn new things. You will travel to places that others will not, or to places that are a little different. You may want to travel to the same place many times. You can have a lot of friends from other countries and also a lot of people you can meet while traveling. Your wedding can be unusual and different from the others. Your marriage can be unpredictable and different. Maybe you can have many unexpected things with your partner. It can always be in flux.

🐚Pisces in 9th house-you have faith, which can also be infinite. You never stop believing because you have a lot of illusion inside you. And there is definitely a mission you should follow in this lifetime. These natives can’t be kept to only one place. Pisces are known for creating magic around them, but also for poisoning their environment when it comes to the aspects of life they haven’t explored. You always have to follow your passion & things that are good for you soul. You are very nice to everyone. And you believe that the world is full of magic, dreams and goodness. You deeply believe in soul connection of people,soulmates and everything that requires somehow higher meaning to this life. Places by the ocean are good for your soul and you actually love to be near Ocean. Your wedding can be dreamy, by the water or somewhere like a magical world. A marriage with a partner is spiritual and more deeply connected. But you have to make sure that the person doesn't cover things up or lie to you.

✨Ig-bekylibra✨

-Rebekah☁️🌊💍

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

your ghoul fics have me in a fuckin chokehold 😭😩 there's nothing i love more in life than a scary sexy man w questionable morals

not to be horny in anon but like... imagine the reader, after having been traveling together for a while, being an insufferable brat for a couple days, just tap dancing on coop's last nerve- but he's not gonna get rid of you, he's seen you in action, despite his lone-ranger status, you're too useful. too skilled. too good at surviving in the wasteland as a vaultie for this not to have been destined. at least that's what he tells himself to avoid facing the fact that, well, poor bastard caught feelings. basically this is a long winded way of me saying boot riding as punishment, cause the man deserves a free polish 😶

Grunt Work

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller Reader

Word Count: 3,920

Warnings: smut (18+), BDSM-style dynamics, boot riding, masturbation (male), begging, mild hair pulling, mild cum play, Cooper is a softie (but a pissed off softie).

Notes: Anon, I wish you would've been here to see me read this request for the first time. I think a small part of my brain exploded. How did this become 4,000 words? It may have turned out softer than you envisioned (not the first time I've given that preface/apology and it certainly won't be the last; The Ghoul is soft deep inside and you cannot tell me otherwise!), and if so, I hope you still enjoy. Thank you for reading!

Every day with this girl was an exercise in self-restraint.

Granted, the type of self-restraint varied greatly from day to day, hour to hour. From the moment he had agreed to do business with the vaultie, she'd been testing his patience, his boundaries, his sense of what was normal.

Generally, he quite liked it. It was actually endlessly refreshing, he found, to spend time with someone who treated him like he was human, who he felt comfortable enough to actually relax a bit around. Someone who still had some sunshine left in them. Slowly, agonizingly so, they'd developed a bit of a rapport, then a genuine trust, which had eventually (and somewhat recently, given the scope of all the months they'd been traveling together) bloomed into more. What you'd call that "more", he wasn't really certain.

It had been the first time he'd allowed himself any sort of dalliance in that area since he'd divorced Barb all those years ago, and it had been both amazing and heartbreaking. Establishing that new attachment with his little vaultie had been the first time in lifetimes that he truly felt connected to his humanity, the way she'd kissed him and clung to him and sighed his name just like one would with any normal man.

He really had forgotten how wonderful it could be to be with someone, to let them get as close as they possibly could, even though he looked the way he did, acted the way he did, and refused to take off anything besides his duster, his gloves, and his hat.

He knew, deep down somewhere, that she wouldn't reject him simply for what his body looked like. Not at this point. Unfortunately, her feelings about his body didn't really change his feelings about his body. Still, getting to feel her and hold her close had been even better than he'd imagined.

But that new moment of connection, that next and first step, also meant he was fully closing the door on his time with Barb; he'd always been faithful to her, even after they'd split, since he'd really had no interest in dating again in the time after the paperwork was finalized. Then the world had ended and wasn't even a thought in his mind for ages. It had taken him months to even see the advances the girl had been making towards him, months more to reciprocate them.

As asinine as it would seem, becoming this close, actually giving himself to someone else physically and emotionally, made his two-centuries old divorce finally feel real. His ex-wife could still well be out there somewhere, as far as he knew, but they'd never be together again, even if by some wild chance they were reunited. Those special feelings he'd once held so deeply for her were no more.

When his companion had finally fallen asleep that night, tucked naked and warm against his side and wrapped in the tail of his duster, he had shed a few tears, something he genuinely didn't believe he was still capable of.

She didn't seem to be sleeping as deeply as she typically did that night, but if she'd overheard his incredibly vulnerable moment, she never let on or brought it up, and he was endlessly grateful for it.

Maybe he was just growing soft with old age.

She was also quite the burgeoning Wastelander, a shockingly good scavenger with a sharp eye for value and utility, small enough to fit in places that he couldn't, her little hands quick at hacking terminals and picking locks. But, despite her small size, she was quite strong, able to handle herself far better in most fights than he'd ever expected a vault-dweller to be capable of. He didn't necessarily need to watch over her every single second, but the urge persisted, nevertheless. Seeing her safe, seeing her happy, those things gave him a strange sense of inner peace that he hadn't felt in ages. It had become second nature to hover around her.

Besides, as of late, keeping an eye on her every second seemed to be his best bet to stay alive. He was genuinely unsure if his girl (Was that what she was?) had been dealing with an especially bad streak of luck over the last week, or what, but she was rapidly grating on his nerves much more usual.

First, she had managed to nose her way into a yao guai den and set the thing off chasing her, resulting in him taking a pretty nasty swipe to the side before they could put it down, several foot-long tears in his already worse-for-wear coat. However, she'd apologized profusely, spent a few hours that night mending and patching up his coat. He found it impossible to stay mad at her through either.

Then, she'd done the exact same thing a few days later, but with a pack of nightstalkers. He'd nearly lost a finger helping her fight them off, the shitty little things infinitely more tough than one might expect. After that, she was officially no longer in charge of picking where they slept, an arrangement he hadn't been fully aware he'd entered into until he'd had to put his foot down about it. Whatever, she'd pouted a bit and insisted it wasn't her fault. He didn't love how little she spoke to him when she was pouting, and her resolve for keeping at such things was irritatingly strong, but what bothered him more was how well it worked.

Eventually, he'd apologized for snapping at her. That night, she chose where they slept. He tried to not think too long on why he'd let her.

He didn't fully understand why he found himself acting this way around her, and only her. All he knew for sure was that he'd be devastated to lose her, as chagrined as the admission made him, and so he did his best to make things pleasant to keep her around.

What she'd pulled today, however, had managed to officially piss him off.

After a long week of iffy sleep and more scrapes with wildlife and fiends than usual, they had both been a tad testy by the time they'd reached the shabby little trading outpost at the edge of the Wastes, one of the last places you could reliably stop for clean water and supplies in this section of the desert going the way they'd come from. It was also a reliable place for him to obtain vials, and had come in handy to a life-saving degree more than once.

The girl had gotten slick-mouthed with the proprietor over the price of some fancy machine parts she'd scrounged up, insisting that they were worth far more than he was offering her. Granted, she was right; the man was attempting to swindle her, to some degree, but frankly, the damn things were cumbersome and heavy and he wouldn't even call the price she could theoretically get for them worth hauling them around in the heat. If it were him, he wouldn't have dragged them all this way, and would certainly ditch them now.

For reasons he couldn't fathom, though, her solution to the man offhandedly threatening to just keep the damn things had been to pull her pistol on him, which, of course, had set off an entire chain of unnecessary events. The owner's gun had come out, as well, then Cooper's, despite him actually trying to talk the situation down for once.

The man wouldn't relent, however, and he had been forced to shoot his hand off to end the conflict without her blood being spilled. Well, maybe not completely forced, but it certainly felt that way at the time. That particular trading outpost had been incredibly useful to him for well over a decade, and now he wouldn't be able to return.

If it had been anyone else, he probably would have shot them.

Not probably. He would have shot them.

But instead, here he was, tucked into a creaky old UV-eaten lawn chair, smoking and trying to disguise how unsettlingly happy he was to finally have some safe alone time with her beneath his annoyance at being inconvenienced. If there was one thing he hated, it was being inconvenienced. But, if there was one thing he greatly enjoyed, it was her company, so he was at a bit of an impasse.

It was moments like this where he wondered if he'd finally poisoned his brain with too much Jet or any other number of substances, the haze that consumed him every moment around her thick. Even now, when he was angrier with her than he'd ever been at any point in their travels, he couldn't focus on his legitimate grievance because he wanted her so badly. It was the single most irksome thing he'd ever experienced.

She was quickly sniffing out this weakness of his, perceptive little minx that she was. Increasingly, she was quick to soothe his bad moods with little touches and kisses, and it made him melt embarrassingly every single time. He'd been livid and silent as they'd trudged away from the building, both of them covered in rapidly-cooling blood spatter, when she'd brushed her hand along his back softly; a sort of apology, he supposed. Since then, his main source of anger had been himself and his lack of resolve when it came to this particular woman.

The old cowboy was determined to teach her a lesson today, though.

He'd spent the better part of an hour checking their perimeter once they'd come across this place, and the little sniper's nest where they were holed up had a great view of the area. It certainly wasn't much, little more than a rusty metal panel jammed between some rocks, a mattress, a chair, and a radio. But for the first time in a few weeks, things were safe, quiet, and calm. They had plenty of rations between the two of them, and water wasn't as much of a concern as it had been on their way in. She was so comfortable that she'd actually shed her boots and socks, her dainty little feet curled up underneath her as she nibbled away at something under the ramshackle "roof".

Now was the time. He just had to wait for the opportunity.

"You've been quiet since we left the traders." she said after a while of companionable, though mildly terse, silence. It wasn't a question, but at the same time very much was, and the casual, roundabout way she was addressing what was her own actions made him scowl slightly.

"You've been a pain in my ass these last few days, sugar." he said flatly, glaring at her as best as he could from under the brim of his hat. "Should be happy I've just been quiet now."

She actually rolled her eyes slightly, but clearly didn't think he'd seen it, keeping silent as she continued to eat. Increasingly bold for someone within grabbing distance. Cooper let a few seconds pass, studying her.

"Y'know, when I was in the marines, if you were a little shitheel, they'd make you do grunt work." he said eventually, voice matter-of-fact.

She pursed her lips at that, finishing up the can of beans she'd been steadily tucking into.

"I don't think I know what that is." she replied almost absentmindedly.

"It's the shit work no one ever wanted to do, so being assigned to it was intended as a punishment. Scrubbin' floors, toilets. Peelin' potatoes. Polishin' boots."

She chuckled at his anecdote as if it were meant to be entertaining, but the way he let her laugh hang in the silence, staring her down as she sat there curled up beside him, said otherwise. After a moment, she sort of narrowed her eyes at him, her tone low, almost conspiratory, when she asked:

"What're you playing at, cowboy?"

"I'm sayin' you're in trouble, cowgirl." he replied, reaching out to hold her chin solidly in his grip and watching her pout. "I'm sayin' that I think a little grunt work would do you and that attitude of yours some good, and I'm sayin' that I think you should polish my boots."

"Polish your boots?" she repeated, wrapping her tongue around each of the words like they were foreign to her.

"Pretty sure there ain't a functioning toilet within a hundred miles of where we're sitting, and I ain't got any potatoes. So…"

"You can't be serious." she said, her eyes full of curious suspicion as she looked him up and down.

Releasing her chin, the old ghoul set to removing his gloves, tugging his second hand free and using his naked pointer finger to draw a little 'x' over his heart.

"Serious as the grave, darlin'."

There were a few pregnant seconds of them staring one another down, waiting for the other to bend, to flinch. She even lifted her chin towards him, just enough for him to pick up on, an unspoken challenge. God, she was so like him.

"Now…be good and take your clothes off." he smirked, brows raising when she made to argue in response. Her lips worked their way between her teeth as she hesitated before slowly dropping all her armor from her arms and torso, then drawing the dirty shirt underneath over her head.

"Is that better, Coop?" she asked, letting her hair down out of the knot she'd tied it up into on top of her head, the strands framing her face as she worked him over again with those eyes of hers. Pulling herself up into a standing position, he did his best to ignore the way her bare breasts moved and dipped with gravity.

"Mmm. I think it would be more fittin' if you called me 'sir', frankly."

"You cannot be serious!" she insisted again, indignant as she slid the zipper on her trousers down, her tone making him chuckle despite himself. She just didn't know when to quit, and it was fucking adorable.

"Am I ever unserious?" he asked, ignoring the look she shot him back in favor of watching her slowly work the worn pants down over the curve of her ass, dropping them into a pile around her feet and leaving her standing there as naked as the day she was born. He felt his already-stiffening cock twitch slightly, resisting the urge to rub himself through the faded pinstripes of his pants. This was supposed to be a punishment for her, and doing that would give her too much opportunity to distract him.

"Aww, c'mon, boss." she sighed, pressing at a hidden button of his, cocking her head and sending that silky curtain around her face glinting in the light.

"I mean it, missy. You fucked up pretty bad today, and you need to be punished for it. And what did I just say?" he responded, fighting hard to keep his voice even and body still.

"Well…what else would you have in mind as a punishment, sir?" she purred as she stepped back towards him, batting those long, dark lashes his way. He managed to keep his eyes on hers and off of her body, a task that felt herculean as the ache in his gut grew more intense. For a split second, he wanted to give in to her, to pin her to the ground and fuck the attitude out of her like he'd wanted to for days. But there would be plenty of time for that later.

"I promise you that if you knew your other options, darlin', you'd choose this." he replied, finishing his smoke and tossing the butt away. Digging his inhaler out for a quick puff, he finally removed his hat and set it aside, reclining just enough to allow his feet to stick out a few inches in front of him.

She huffed at her little ploy failing to work, crossing her arms and cocking her hip slightly. Cooper's teeth dug into the inside of his cheek to keep back a grin.

"Well, are you gonna take them off?" she demanded.

He couldn't hold back his smirk at that, his head cocking as he continued to stare her down.

"Just how long are you gonna keep playin' dumb? You know it's gonna get cold when it gets dark."

Studying her face, he could see the faint lines of confusion there, and wondered if maybe she really didn't know what he meant.

"There's a reason I wanted you naked, honey, and it ain't just the view."

Though it certainly didn't hurt.

It took a few long, long seconds of her looking him up and down, wondering, but eventually the glow of realization lit up her face, followed by more brow furrowed confusion.

"How would that even work?" she asked, though her tone was more curious than argumentative.

"I suppose you'll figure it out, huh? Askin' an awful lot of questions for someone who's about to be freezin' their twat off in about half an hour." he said, watching with apparent glee as she fidgeted in place, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.

Still attempting to make a stand, she didn't move, chewing away at that bottom lip as she hesitated there. He could smell that she was already turned on.

"Go on. Get to work." he ordered softly, exhaling smoke through his nose, staring into her eyes.

After a heartbeat, she seemed to accept her fate and slowly lowered herself down onto her knees in front of him. That, too, made his cock jump. Her cheeks had a visible rosy hue as she clearly struggled to arch herself at the right angle to make proper contact; after a few long seconds of her huffy sighs, he took mercy on her and tilted the toe of his boot more skyward, allowing her to begin to rub herself back and forth across the dusty leather in earnest.

He watched as her face slowly morphed from mildly confused concentration to blossoming arousal, the tint in her cheeks growing until it consumed her entire face.

"How does it feel?" he asked quietly, taking another long drag off of his smoke.

"It feels good." she huffed, a light sheen of sweat glinting on her soft skin.

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair at that, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, her eyes flying open to gaze up at him, wide and wet.

"Feels good what?" he demanded. "Given you an awful lot of chances on that, kid. Y'know, insubordination usually calls for more severe punishment."

"It feels good, sir." she replied, her hips stuttering slightly as she struggled to move them with her head fixed in place, her eyes falling shut again. He found it a little surprising that the mild pain hadn't stopped her or made her complain more. If anything, she'd seemed to like it. He took note of that for later.

"Tsk. Well, it's supposed to be a punishment, but I guess I can't help it if a little freak like you gets off on polishin' my boots. Guess I did know a guy in the service who really liked bein' made to scrub the floor, but, between you and me, I think he might've had a little thing for bein' pushed around and told what to do." Cooper's voice fell to a secretive murmur as he spoke to her, watching her eyes dart away as he teased her.

However, as he watched her slide herself back and forth across his foot, he found it more and more difficult to resist the urge to touch himself. When her eyes didn't open for several minutes, focused entirely on the sensation, it would seem, he took the opportunity to palm his cock, his hips eventually beginning to rock against his hand. That movement caught her attention, her gaze burning into him as she watched; this was a button of hers for whatever reason. Feeling emboldened and somewhat sure that she was too distracted to cause trouble, he quickly undid his belt and fly and tugged his erection free, a shiver running down his spine as he gave himself a few experimental pumps in the cooling air.

Unfortunately, he'd underestimated how coherent she still was, her head remaining low, but her right hand creeping up his leg towards his hand. He jerked his chin towards her, sending her jumping back a bit. However, she didn't look fearful, more chastened.

"Don't. You. Fuckin'. Dare." he growled, his hand not stilling for a moment. "If you touch me, I'm gonna put you over my knee and spank your little ass until you can't sit right for a week."

His threats only seemed to make her hotter, a throaty moan leaving her as she began to hump his boot with increased speed, all attempts at preserving any semblance of her dignity abandoned in the pursuit of her orgasm. The grip he was maintaining on himself tightened, and a growl ripped out of his chest in response as he fought to keep his eyes open and on her. If he could still sweat, he'd be pouring it just like her.

Cooper's leg jerked involuntarily as a particularly strong wave of pleasure shot up his spine, digging the toe of his boot harder into her weeping little slit, and she keened in response, her body beginning to twitch all over like it did when she was nearing her end.

"You close, honey? You wanna cum?" he asked feverishly, rapidly sprinting towards his own finish line.

She nodded rapidly, her breasts heaving with her strained breath as her nails dug into his thigh.

"Please, please, please..." she breathed over and over.

"Look at you, just cleaned the thing and you're about to make a mess all over it because you're such a needy little slut." he chastised, breaking down into a harsh whisper as he seized her by her hair once more, his cig hanging loosely from his lips. "Go on, baby. Cum all over my boot."

The labored whine she let out as she lost herself all over him, and the blissful way her face contorted as she cried out, was more than enough to finish him off, his release spurting all over his hand and stomach. They both growled and groaned their way through their shared release, her collapsing against the inside of his leg as she panted heavily. Working to control his own breathing, he let his head fall completely back with a blunted "thud" against the frame of the chair, releasing his grip on her head.

After a few quiet moments, they both rather sheepishly peeked at one another. He held his spend-covered hand up in front of her face, the mess catching the fading light as he reached out towards her.

"You're gonna have to clean that up, too." he said softly, rubbing some of the slickness across her lips, barely holding back a groan when the little pink tip of her tongue darted out to lap at his fingers as they passed by.

"Mmm. Yes, sir." she responded, gently laying her temple against the side of his knee, those big, round eyes slowly slipping shut. Cooper reached out and laid his palm against her head, petting her now-rumpled hair with more affection than he'd like to admit, admiring her in the golden-red hue of the evening sun.

"Don't get too comfy there, sweetheart." he said after a few quiet moments, his cock beginning to stir again. "Don't forget, I've got another boot."

[kaeddehara]

― 𝜗𝜚 .˚ MORE TOJI HCS/THOUGHTS — SFW + NSFW

sorry this is messy and a bit all over the place. i’m currently writing a much longer oneshot toji fic right now so here’s some scraps i came up with while writing it <3.

i feel like he’s one of those guys who kind and sweet to only you. yeah sure, he has a bit of temper at times and can say things he doesn’t really mean, but overall, he’d treat you with such kindness that you never see him give to anyone else. it comes in many forms but the most prevalent one has to be simple, small physical gestures such as :

a hand on your back when he’s trying to lead you somewhere in public

brushing some hair out of your face if you’re working on something and are too focused to move it

rubbing your shoulders if you’re stressed out or tense from the day

feel like physical touch would be his top love language honestly maybe along with acts of service <3

the list continues on all the sort of small but endearing gestures he does for you. i also feel like this feeds into his possessive nature so by doing these things, he’s claiming you as his. i feel like he’d have one of those stares at everyone else that just lets them know to not fuck with him or you. you’re just his sweet thing, hands wrapped around his thick forearm as you walk along the street.

even though i did say physical touch would be one of his main love languages, he’d definitely have to go through some warming up. he’s not exactly cold-hearted as many see him as, but his demeanor towards your kind gestures and overall demeanor make him feel a little frozen in time. he’s just been so unused to receiving kindness or praise that’s not just for the work he does that it honestly causes him to become a little standoffish to the kindness he’s receiving. i wouldn’t take it as an insult—it’s just his first steps into truly loving and appreciating you.

for example, after a couple of weeks of knowing you and going out on occasion dates, he’d finally get comfortable enough to head back to his place with you. while sitting on his couch, watching whatever movie or tv show of choice, he’d find your head laying on his shoulder. and although he has absolutely no ill will towards you, he can’t help but to feel uncomfortable at the touch. feeling tensed up as you softly cradle yourself onto him. slowly, he’d wrap his much larger arm around your body, bringing you closer to him and gently graze your skin with his fingers.

“you’re feel to stay toji, i thought you might want to since it’s pretty late” , you said as you continued to put the now dried dishes up. he was standing at the kitchen counter, rubbing the back of his head in thought.

all this kindness you give him and what’s he to do?

“if you’re offering i don’t see why not” he says in response, his his tone firm yet validating. you close the cabinet and turn around to give him a soft smile along with a soft “mhm”.

“i don’t mind and you know that.”

“jus’ don’t wanna be a bother is all…”

you almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing for a moment. toji fushiguro caring about being a bother? you wanted to smile almost giggle at his words but instead chose to be polite and not cause him to go back on any progress you’d both made.

“you’re never a bother baby, take however long you need, doesn’t bother me a bit”

while toji didn’t want to admit it, the fact you called him baby did something to him emotionally that he couldn’t explain. it took all his strength not to just grab you and push you against your hall way wall to kiss you. you were just too kind, too pretty standing there in front of him. toji couldn’t help himself and so he took a chance while he could. moving in closer to you, he watched as you did the same to him, making him more confident this was a right choice.

all of a sudden, you felt his rather cold and large finger tips slip under your night top, his hand gently rubbing the soft skin of your stomach as it moved lower and lower, getting to the waistband of your panties. “didn’t mean to startle ya”, he apologized quickly upon hearing the gasp you let out. you grabbed onto his forearm as if to encourage him to continue whatever plan he had. “don’t apologize, it feels good” you whispered in a sultry tone that made to his eyes widen a bit. he’d never truly seen this side of you and just from the start, he can already tell he won’t be able to get enough of it. grunting in response, he took his fingers off your waistband and moved two fingers in between your thighs, letting your warmth envelop his hand. another quiet gasp escaped your lips as toji continued. gently rubbing those two fingers right where you wanted him most made your head light and chest full. moving your free hand up and grab at his shirt and other hand to grab at the counter. letting a pleasured sigh leave your mouth when you felt him press harder.

“you been thinking about this huh?”

he whispered in a deep, almost sleepy like voice that went straight to your pussy. that, and his scent, deep and musky it always made you feel drawn to him and safe in his presence. you nodded instinctively, not even thinking to give some sort of vocal response and instead getting lost in the pleasure. his eyes laid on your pretty facial features as he continued to rub harder and faster, not letting up in the slightest or for any reason <3.

[bitethedevil]

Raphael and his weaponized mortality

I think it’s pretty clear from that “I am no mortal!” quote that his mortal ancestry isn’t exactly a source of pride for him. However, I still think that he utilizes it to it’s fullest. As I have talked about in an earlier post about the whole problematic situation with Haarlep: Raphael knows how to turn shit into gold. I definitely feel like this “pretending to be mortal”-thing is a big part of his character, the more I think on it. Here’s some of my thoughts:

His smell: Weird to start off with, I know but it’s the thing that actually led me to think on this. I read somewhere that cambions are entirely carnivorous, which means they have a predatory stench to them. This is interesting because Yurgir describes him as a “perfumed trickster”. He covers up the thing that would biologically make a mortal think “danger”.

His questionable poetry: While I do think it’s something he genuinely enjoys; I also think it seems like a bit of an unorthodox interest for a devil (I could be wrong). What is interesting is if you bring Karlach to the entrance to the mausoleum, she comments on his poetry and he answers something along the lines of “I’ll admit, it’s not my main interest…not by any stretch”. Poetry is something that speaks to our feelings, so it’s not weird that a devil whose emotional life is a bit different from that of a mortal, would be ‘bad’ at it. Even though the poetry that Raphael recites usually leans towards the macabre, it still sort of humanizes him that he would have an interest in such things. It is also an attempt to speak directly to our feelings (fear often in his case). The way that he says it’s not his main interest also points to the fact that he literally uses it as a tool. I think it’s the same with his theatrical nature: it’s simply him playing a human. I really do wonder how he would interact with another devil if there was no one else in the room.

His ’angelic’ complexion: In Last Light Inn, if you reveal that he is a devil to Mol, he says something along the lines of “She’d never take your word for it…not with my angelic complexion”. I could be wrong, but I’ve also read a few places that when the Flymms (Gortash’s parents) signed over Gortash, it was to a warlock. Some places I’ve read that it was a warlock OF Raphael’s, others say that the warlock WAS Raphael. This makes me wonder: How often does he show his true nature to clients before they’ve already signed, like he did with us? Or at the very least, he waits to reveal his nature until the person can’t run or are out of options. It’s then interesting to think about how transparent he is about his nature to us in comparison right from the get-go. I believe this is because he truly believes that we need the hammer, and thus there’s not as much of a reason to pretend.

I just think it’s interesting and I think it is probably the most terrifying thing about him. It puts the “I am no mortal” quote into another perspective for me. It’s who he is beneath it all that peeks through for a moment. It must also be infuriating to him that the very source of his success is due to how good he is at playing into his mortal side. It also begs the question of how much of all of this pretending has bled into his life over the years, because we see that he still talks sort of poetically (and even almost emotionally) in his private diaries. His allegiance is to the devil side of himself, but I really do wonder how much he has to suppress small aspects of the mortal side.

[meanbossart]

Just thinking thoughts about Orin and Drow lore, and idk if this has been asked already, but

If Orin had just disappeared for like a year, not even Sceleritas could find her, with how obsessive pre-tadpole Drow was how would he handle that? Aside from being prideful and murdery, I don’t remember in the pre-tadpole Drow lore about any instance (after he made it to the temple) of him expressing anything else. Did the two ever have a wholesome moment?

Hmmmm not wholesome, no. I'm sorry to disappoint people who might wanted to see a more explicitly vulnerable side to both of them at that stage in their lives, but that's just not... How I envision things. I don't think anyone born into the temple would have had much room to express themselves in the way average people do.

What they did have was an undeniable connection and mutual understanding. This lasted for about 7 years, so between ages 18-25 for DU drow. (Canonically he's currently 28, give or take). I think that, sometimes, they also silently understood among themselves that things weren't always fair or good.

This might sound like a whole load of nothing to some people, but based on the culture within the cult, Orin's story, and the behavior of everyone involved in it, it seems huge to me that two people who were essentially groomed to be the embodiment of murder would harbor any kind of care for one another, even if it was subtle. The fact that they could share a bed, talk shit about Sarevok, and seamlessly work together and share in the glory of their deeds as equals is what intimacy looked like for them - before DU drow's ego (and the very need of a more explicitly intimate connection with someone, to be fair) got to his head.

They killed together, they rolled around in blood together, they bickered and fought and one time Orin stabbed him in the gut and DU drow punched her jaw out of it's socket. Then they flopped down on the ground and cackled about it while Sceleritas rushed in to stop the bleeding. Is that wholesome? I think for deified bhaalspawn who know nothing but that life it's the closest it gets.

There had to have been quiet moments I'm sure. Like Orin waiting around while DU drow got ready to go somewhere, him adjusting her headpiece, Orin slicing her brother's long hair off when he first arrived and looked like some sort of sinewy wood's creature. At night, they probably laid in bed in silence and sometimes stared at each other until either fell asleep.

I am very interested in not inventing an obscured, soft side to Orin that we didn't get to see, you know? While she wasn't always the level of manic we see in-game, she was completely unfit to function normally due to her upbringing, and this reflects in her relationships. DU drow is also undeniably emotionally stunted, just in a slightly different way.

I got off rambling to no one's surprise LOL but to answer the first part of your question - I don't think he would have been quite as dramatic about Orin just up and vanishing, as there's no explicit suggestion of death in that. He would have been insufferable to be around for a while, but in that scenario I could see his duties keeping him busy.

Not to mention that, while through death, she would be leaving him unwillingly - disappearing with no trace implies the uncomfortable possibility that she truly, honestly, just didn't want to be around him. That allows room for contempt and bitterness to fester until you wrongly convince yourself there was never any love there at all, even if just to soothe your own conscience.

He would have just become a much, much worse person that way in the sense that he would have nothing to focus on besides for his lord's will - as horrific as his attitude towards Orin was, it is very much a human feature to desperately cling to connection. With Orin around, he had a little bit of fucked up tenderness and love in him - it was a personal desire completely separate from his "job", a vestige of free-will. Without her, he just has Bhaal and whatever Bhaal wants.

Orin has always unwittingly anchored him, and then, later freed him. And he never ever deserved any of it.

🤷

[island-in-the-shadows]

On Felix Catton & Disgust/Desire

I had been waiting for a long while now to write this post. I wanted to do another full re-watch before I got into it because the ideas for this have been sitting in my mind for a long time. This is going to be a long post and, hopefully, not super pretentious. Most of us fans of Saltburn know, to some degree or another, that the core themes of the film revolve around disgust, desire, and obsession. And the biggest entry point to discuss this is the actions of our protagonist, Oliver Quick re the object of his disgust/desire/obsession Felix Catton.

I've written before that I believe that Oliver did know Felix and that Felix was emotionally vulnerable and candid with Oliver. I further stated that we, the audience, are forbidden from knowing the details of this intimacy because Oliver does not want us to truly know Felix. This means that the bits we get of Felix are small and very subtle. It means that we can interpret Felix's core personality, true intent, true desires in a litany of ways. My opinion is, realistically, no more valid than anyone else's. But for today, I wanted to discuss what I view, from the bits that we get, is Felix's relation with the core themes of the film. And, because I saw a truly heinous takes about a different fandom I'm in and I don't want to think about it, my brain said: hey...let's talk about Felix Catton and his disgust and desire.

Pt. 1: "Only rich people can afford to be this filthy."

When Oliver says the above, he and Felix are in Felix's messy and disgusting dorm room at Oxford. When you take a closer look at the room (which I admit was difficult on my first few views because Felix is lit and positioned to take all of your focus), it is a total shit show. There's clothes everywhere, empty containers everywhere, other unidentifiable debris...honestly wouldn't shock me if there was some used condom somewhere. We know from Oliver that, not only does it look like chaos, it smells terrible. However, Felix is unbothered. He is concerned only with the heat which, in this case, is an external force that he cannot control no matter his good looks, his charms, his pedigree, or his money. By what we see, Felix is quite happy and content in the filth. It is only when Oliver points out the filth and points out that Felix won't take care of it, that Felix reacts negatively.

Felix, as we know, is very accustomed to his messes being cleaned up for him. Before we even get to Saltburn it's a safe assumption to make. Prior to college/uni, he would've gone to some posh boarding school or other. I doubt that they were made to clean everything in boarding school (though if any of you know please let me know). We also know that wealthy people tend to have hired staff who clean for them. This is a young man who has never had to clean up his spilled milk and it has never even occurred to him to do it.

However, the important bit to note is not that Felix is messy and that it doesn't occur to him to clean. What's important to note is that the mess simply does not bother him. Just because he is born to extreme wealth and privilege does not mean that he would have to be this way. There's been germaphobe rich people or people who prefer to have a minimalistic space or any number of things. Regardless of wealth, some people are fine with mess and some people require mess to be done away with immediately. Felix is in the former category. He certainly must notice the mess at some point (even if, clearly, he's nosebleed to it) but he is comfortable in his space.

This is also true of his room at Saltburn. We barely see it, I know, but let's take a look at that glossy af pic of it from the Architectural Digest Article...

There is crap EVERYWHERE. The more you look at it the more crap you find. You can't even say that it's perfectly clean either because there's dirty clothes in spots, there's multiple pillows on the ground, there's a random used water glass, there's either toilet paper or paper towels on the night stand, the bed isn't perfectly made, I could go on. Chaos and filth and mess is, technically, Felix's natural habitat. It's the kind of mess that is surrounded by opulence, certainly, but it's still a mess.

Only rich people can afford to be this messy because they can also dictate when and where their staff cleans. Presumably, there are things in Felix's bedroom (perhaps the toilet paper/paper towels which have a...purpose) which he has instructed Duncan to leave alone. Or Elspeth has put terms for how often the maids come in the rooms. It could be framed in a multitude of ways. The point stands that Felix can exist in these chaotic and, even, disgusting spaces because he chooses to be. What his privilege does, then, is afford him absence from judgment.

We see the staff at Saltburn clean up after the party. We see that they quietly replaced a broken mirror before anyone can question the cracks. We never see the staff judge. Do they? Certainly they must, we all have opinions. But do they express their judgement to the masters of the house? No. It's not their place to do so. They are considered staff and therefore their opinions do not come into play for the Cattons nor would they want to hear them. Even Duncan's genuine unease and grief after Felix dies is mostly kept under control. He's not paid to express his emotions or his thoughts, after all.

And why go into all of this? Because Felix is content to live in the mess, to revel in the gross and in some version of the abject. What Felix cannot handle is being confronted with his pleasure. To me, this (along with wanting to separate Oliver from staff when the younger boy starts actively cleaning) is the main reason why he snaps when Oliver points out the disgusting state of the dorm. He does not need or want to know how he fits outside a specific role that he was born to play and, likely, believes he has to play. Even if it didn't occur to him to clean, he could've used his wealth and influence to find someone to clean for him. But he didn't. Because it doesn't bother him. Oliver being bothered and pointing out that Felix is so wealthy that he can live in the filth is what bothers him, instead.

Pt. 2 "Was it? Was it awful?"

I am going to keep this section short, because there have been much better posts about this and I, personally, go back and forth on this all the time. Regardless, Felix having an interest in a made up fantasy of a shitty childhood and what he can, likely, envision as some Dickensian nightmare of a situation falls into his relation to disgust and desire. What Felix knows of true poverty and addiction likely comes from media or exaggerated stories from people who have been in contact with someone who was an addict or something to that extent. His imagination must be running wild with theories. And while I do think that he did have good intentions regarding Oliver when it comes to this, his demeanour also shows an attraction to the grotty aspects of it. Oliver only ever calls him out on this, to a degree, in the maze. Before this, Felix can be interested in what he imagines is the horror of Oliver's childhood but not be caught out as being a tragedy whore or someone with a saviour complex or anything else, because his interest is not being pointed out. Again, he has an interest or desire for mess and chaos as long as it is not pointed out.

Pt. 3 "You're supposed to be here with me."

Let's, briefly, talk about queerness. Let's talk about how Felix has an image to maintain. How he has expectations put upon him. Yes, he has privilege and wealth beyond understanding, but these things often have a tradeoff. Celebrities, for example, have to forfeit a lot of their privacy. Royalty and nobility (regardless of country) often forfeit chunks of their privacy and the possibility of living outside of a script (publicly, at any rate). Felix CANNOT go off script.

He is implied to be the heir to Saltburn and everything that comes with it: money, land, title, expectations. Like in the days of old, it's probably expected of him to produce an heir. It's also expected of him to marry a lady from his class in order to produce said heir. And, back in 2006/7, people were less acceptating of LGBTQ+ people that they are now, and Same-Sex marriage was not a thing in the UK and it wouldn't be for another 7 or so years. So Farleigh, who will inherit nothing and only ever be given scraps, can embrace his queerness; Felix cannot.

Personally, I believe that Felix did have some sort of interest in Oliver. It's not just in the fact that he is possessive of Oliver to the point of disregarding his family. It's in all the Bambi eyed looks that we see Felix give Oliver. You could argue that these are exaggerations from Oliver but then, how do you explain the POV shots we get of Felix looking at Oliver? How they are also romance coded, lustful, pinky and fluffy? There is something there. To what extent there was something is pure conjecture. But, I personally believe that he had some kind of feelings for Oliver but could not express those feelings and, to an extent, found his feelings for Oliver disgusting.

Even if his mother is, in her way, tolerant of queer people, this does not mean that she would be ok with Felix being with a man. I doubt his father, who is in his 60s at the time, would be any happier about it. Again, Felix needs to have an heir and take over Saltburn. So, at most, they would've tolerated that Felix had a "friend" tucked away somewhere that Felix could go to every so often. Queerness is not the desired outcome and so, at some point, Felix would've had to separate any feelings from the matter. And, hypothetically, in boarding school any hand jobs etc. from other boys would be viewed as part of a norm that exists within the realm of "no homo."

So, given he has been emotionally intimate with Oliver and, given that he has felt more for Oliver than he probably thinks he should, he feels disgust as much as he feels desire. He can, and personally I think does, want Oliver, but feels disgusted by his feelings and has a strong desire to keep them channeled in the "appropriate" way. Just the same, he gets jealous and he does not want to share. He cannot abide by Oliver being free to pursue another partner (guarantee he would be equally as incensed if he had found out about Farleigh and it probably would've slightly registered had Oliver actually slept with Indabel). It's specifically a slap in the face that it's Venetia who has done this kind of thing before and who is allowed to be physical with these friends of Felix's with whom Felix does not feel he could or should be physically intimate. Thus, the possession and the jealousy and the spurned wife behaviour of it all.

Pt. 4 "You make my fucking blood run cold."

Bref, I think Felix had good intentions but poor thinking skills when he wanted to take Oliver to his parents' house. Multiple posts have discussed this bit and I do think he wanted to further trauma bond with Oliver the way they further trauma bonded when Oliver's dad "died", afterwards, per the script, they were "closer than ever." And then they had that intimate moment on the bridge and spent some time there completely alone instead of being at a giant party. I think he thought that the experience would bring them closer and that he would be there to, in his way, protect Oliver. And I still think this plays in to all the little ways in which Felix desires disgust and is disgusted by his desires. But he does it anyway.

The betrayal of trust and intimacy that follows has to feel like a bomb has gone off in Felix's mind. But what's worse for him, again this is solely my opinion, is that he still desires Oliver regardless. It might not have fully formed in his head and he then dulled it with drugs and alcohol and with his shoddy attempt at fucking Indabel in the maze, but possibly the inkling of why Oliver lied the way he did had entered his brain. Oliver already tried to explain. Told Felix in the hallway when they got back that he wanted to be Felix's friend. And Felix likely relived his entire relationship with Oliver including what Oliver just told him. And, to me, Felix was not entirely opposed to it. He didn't immediately kick out Oliver or cause too much of a fuss. He wanted space. He wanted to not think about it for a while. But Oliver forced his hand.

Again, here we have a Felix who is disgusted by his desire. A Felix who, deep down, knows that he likes that Oliver lied. That he likes that Oliver desires him so much that he would do anything for him. Likes that, despite NEVER wanting anyone to know the most debauched parts of him, Oliver is close to knowing all of his darkest parts and loving him for them just the same. But a Felix who, nonetheless, does not allow himself to revel in the filth once it's pointed out.

And Oliver points it out. In a big way. "Everyone puts on a show for Felix! [...] doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you!" He does know him. Felix knows this. Felix CANNOT go off script. Felix cannot acknowledge his love for things that are disgusting or less than savoury. So too he cannot allow them or acknowledge them here. And then we have something in the script vs. how Jacob actually looked that's what inspired me to write this overly long post in the first fucking place.

This is not the exact beat. Because this is after Felix says his line about his blood running cold. The vibe is the same, though. Regardless...is THAT the fact of disgust? Because to me, that is not disgust. That is some form of desire that most mortals will never experience. But then...it also IS disgust. Because the two are intertwined for him. Because he desires because of the disgust at the situation and at the lengths of debasement Oliver will go to to please him. He is a boy who loves mess and chaos and who makes his home there. And, to whatever extent, his heart could've made a home in the mess and chaos and filth that Oliver brought to the table. Even if Felix has to be disgusted at his desires and prevent them. Even if Oliver took any option or opportunity away from Felix.

Oliver makes his blood run cold, but Felix never said that was a bad thing. And it isn't. Just as Oliver revels in the filth of bodies and their fluids and the inferred possession that comes with them, so too Felix revels in the filth of places and things he shouldn't want and things he can only truly savour in the shadows where no one points them out.

TL;DR Felix is as much of a freak as Oliver is, though in a different way. He is shown to be comfortable and even like messy and gross things but, he only does so when it's not pointed out. He can be, to a point, physically close and emotionally intimate with Oliver and, even partially overlook a betrayal of this intimacy, but only if it's never pointed out. Only if it doesn't break with the expectations and social script on which he has been raised and to which he has to stick. He serves to demonstrate the relationship with disgust and desire as much as Oliver does, but his relation is more subtle and harder to see. And maybe, just maybe, given time, he would've at least bent the script.

--------------------------------------0--------------------------------------

Super sorry for how long this is, I just needed to get it out! Thanks to @ollieapologist for being my biggest cheerleader about this post. Sorry if this is incoherent!

[nico-esoterica]

How to Uproot Your Deepest Fears & Change Your Life Forever:

Shadow work, essentially. Whenever I feel apprehension or fear around anything, I investigate it down to its root and I'm completely emotionally honest with myself about it. I give myself all of the love, grace, and compassion in the world and I start asking myself very simple and direct questions that I feel I need to answer.

When you give yourself the space to be brutally honest about how you genuinely feel about things, you get to the root immediately. Imo, I think it's easier to do when you're somewhere safe and isolated with zero distractions and immediate responsibilities. Do not judge yourself. Just be honest. Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm venting to a trusted person I've made up.

Identify what your ongoing concerns are. Anything that makes your chest tight or puts your stomach in knots.

How does x make you feel? Why?

Where did you learn that from? Is this belief yours or someone else's?

Is there anything about this bothering you? Why do you permit it?

Do you think you can control this? Why/Why not?

What about this scares you? Why?

Is this a behavior you want to change? Why is it hard to let it go?

Are you making this harder on yourself? Why?

In the grand scope of things, will this truly hinder anything?

You'll just keep going with these. They'll pour out of you and you'll realize you've been carrying someone else's baggage or years of pent of resentment or anxiety around people or situations which aren't relevant anymore. You can let go of that whenever you please. But it's also important to feel the catharsis of acknowledging and processing them. Get as emotional and messy with yourself as you want. After, you can release the tension you've been holding around it and let it fall away. Even though they're harmful, the brain adopts them as programs to inform and protect us. When they're outdated, they can be replaced.

At the base of yourself, you can start planting new beliefs. But as any great caregiver, you need to consistently nurture them. If you're triggered, you remind yourself of your power and of that new belief you've planted. It may feel like learning to do anything new as a child. First, it feels scary and uncomfortable. But then it becomes second nature.

You've always had the power. Now you know :)

[feralgodmothers]

I think I cracked it you guys. A part of why Elvis (2022) has such a hold on me (and why you should watch it too if you haven’t already).

The first time I watched it, I didn’t really have any expectations - I wasn’t a fan of Elvis, because my mother hated him, and I grew up without any real exposure to him or his music. I also wasn’t a fan of Baz Luhrmann, because I found his directing style to be too over-the-top, chaotic, and truthfully - obnoxious. So neither of those two big names attached to it were a draw-in for me. And on top of that, I didn’t know Tom Hanks was in it, and I didn’t know who Austin Butler was - not to mention there’s been an abundance of music biopics lately. The only thing that captured my attention was how accurately the trailer portrayed the fangirl spirit. I was like ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like. I can relate to that’, lol. So with that being the only thing that held my interest, I put it on and just shrugged and thought ‘Who knows, this might be fun’.

I was completely blown away.

I had seen a few clips of Elvis prior to this at some point in my life, so I had just enough reference in my memory to go on while I watched Austin do his thing, and he nailed it. It took no time at all for you to feel like you were actually watching Elvis Presley, not just some guy playing him. Austin Butler was flawless - he’s received a tremendous amount of praise for his performance, and quite frankly - I don’t think there could ever be enough praise for what he was able to accomplish here. It is one of the best performances of all time, and that is no exaggeration. It was so exciting - the amount of movie magic (that’s been sorely lacking from films lately) was on full display here, and it gave me new life. I felt a real connection to a completely different era in our history, a connection to a whole other generation of people/fans, and to a music legend that I knew almost nothing about, and who pop culture had twisted into some mythical caricature of himself. This film accomplishes so much, and I was caught up in a whirlwind of something truly eye-opening and magical. The main takeaway I had from my first time viewing was pure excitement and adrenaline, from just being transported somewhere else entirely, both emotionally and spiritually, and from unlearning some misconceptions I had about Elvis Presley. And, as a bonus, I now had a new celebrity crush in Austin Butler (and we all know - stumbling across someone new to thirst over will always be a profound part of the fangirl experience, lol).

The second time I watched it, I was going in still riding that high that I felt - and I was ready to immerse myself into full, thirsty fangirl mode. And obviously I did thirst - but by the end of the film, I was so incredibly emotional. I cried so much, and felt so sad. Of course, I felt sad by the end the first time I watched it too - Elvis died tragically early, and the way the movie highlighted his final performance was so effectively heartbreaking and moving. But I think the more positive feelings I had experienced before had prevented me from sinking too low into my feelings. But by that second viewing, man… the dam just broke, and I was legitimately mourning this man. I’m not kidding when I say this is probably the best biopic I’ve ever seen, and possibly one of the best movies period that I’ve ever seen. I cannot express strongly enough how much it truly resonates with me.

Anyway, my whole point in saying that I cracked it, I say as a fangirl through-and-through - I think the two biggest impacts that can ignite a fangirl’s spirit into a full, dazzling and glorious blaze is: thirst and heartbreak. And this movie provided both of those things in spades. It’s so beautiful to watch - Austin’s beautiful, the storytelling is beautiful, the cinematography is beautiful, the care, dedication, and craft is beautiful. To me, it is absolutely perfect, and it has completely taken over my mind, heart, and soul. I cannot recommend this film highly enough. It is everything to me right now, and the more people who are willing to give it a chance and enjoy it, the better.

[rmorde]

To add another layer of tragedy to Geto's "Fall" is just how poorly SaShiSu communicated with each other post-Toji.

Before everything fell apart for them, SaShiSu are in harmony with one another:

Satoru is the impulsive loudmouth assuming anything and everything.

Suguru is the responsible caretaker silently analyzing everything.

Shoko is the unbiased, unflappable, and supportive observer.

They play each other off really well as seen in EP 1* Basketball Scene.

Satoru instigates trouble.

Suguru was ready to rein him in.

Shoko leaves them to hash it out themselves (and presumably heal their beaten asses later).

Their trio just works. They understand each other and react accordingly.

However, Suguru changed post-Toji. He went out of sync and neither Satoru nor Shoko noticed. Their dynamics here backfired.

Satoru is assumptious. As far as he was concerned, Suguru was okay because his image of him as his "equal" never shattered. Satoru assumed that Suguru is still keeping up with him - that they are still the Strongest together. He never noticed that Suguru is faltering because he was blind to it.

Shoko is reactive. She never really takes the initiative with Satoru and Suguru. She always leaves others to their own businesses and only comes in to help during the aftermath or when asked to without judgement. She may have noticed Suguru is struggling but waited for him do or say something about it first.

Suguru is a martyr. Being the "responsible one" meant he cannot be a bother to Satoru and Shoko. He would rather wrestle his own demons alone than show weakness to them because if he did, then what else is he? What would be his role in their relationship? So, he suffered in silence.

Suguru changed but he tried to maintain his old dynamic with his friends. Meanwhile, Satoru was too comfortable to notice the change and Shoko was too patient to adapt to it.

SaShiSu were rendered unable to communicate properly their needs and care for each other until they broke apart.

This is a problem which, frankly, I think still plagues Shoko and Satoru in the current time.

Shoko remains a steadfast and stalwart friend. She always has Satoru's back even if it was against the higher ups.

But she still waits for Satoru to reach out and ask for her first. She is still unable to take the initiative in their interactions. Hence, she felt like Satoru is not truly seeing her support.

Satoru is still an assumptious friend who respects and relies on Shoko's strength - as their resident doctor and his "rock". He likely never thought that Shoko needed his overt appreciation and reassurance of their relationship.

Shoko also trusts him. Satoru draws confidence from that. So he'd most assuredly wouldn't show any vulnerability to worry her even if he wants to. He didn't want to break her trust.

In short, SaShi are two emotionally constipated fools that are still communicating poorly with each other. What a pair of painfully mutually pining friends. They should be locked up somewhere together so they can hash things out between them.

I mean, look at these two. They walk so far apart from each other.

And yet, they are keeping up with each other's pace.

Just talk with each each other for real. Please 😭

[loveemagicpeace]

🧚🏼‍♀️⭐️Life Events🫧💭

🪐Saturn works like this-when you are ready to learn, the teacher appears and showed you ways how you can do something, what you can learn from it. But when you are truly ready, then the teacher disappears.

🌊8th house shows how we go through someone's death and how we experience it. How we feel about it. The 8th house shows how a part of us dies when a person who was close to our heart dies. Gemini in 8th house means that someone's death will always be personal for us. The person will always say goodbye with the last words. Because gemini rules over mercury. Scorpio in 8th house means that it will be very difficult for you to get over the person, but the person's death will completely transform you. Aquarius in 8th house can mean that a person dies suddenly and you find out about it only later( the next day or something). Also people with saturn in 8th house can mean that you are far away when someone dies. And that people's deaths can be public or shared with the public. Saturn in the 8th house can be a difficult position because you can blame yourself when someone dies. Or you feel that you could do more for the person or be with them more.

💜I really appreciate how private Scorpios are. They really understand the importance of privacy. Especially someone who has mars and scorpio will never share private things on social networks or with others. They like to process things themselves. They never make drama around the relationship. I often see that they don't like to share their relationship with others.

🪴The signs that are the most dramatic in my opinion are leo and gemini. Geminis love rumors and therefore they also like to talk about everything that happened to them. Leos like to be dramatic about themselves and then like to share the drama with others. I honestly think that these two signs don't know how to keep things to themselves when anything is going on.

🫧Men with libra placements have a taste for style. I really like this because they will really always want to be beautiful for you and they put a lot into beauty. Whatever other signs/ placements they may have, libra will always make them want to be beautiful. They will appreciate the beauty in you. Not just the body or sexual stuff. But the face and that real beauty that you have.

🦋Libra moon many times I see that these people are very friendly and always make people comfortable around them. They emit friendly energy, regardless of other signs, they will always look out for other people. And they put a lot on relationships, it is very important to them how they get along with people and how others feel emotionally. With them, you always know that they will put relationship first.

🌅Where Jupiter lies in your chart, you may experience some significant losses. Losses which, in retrospect, benefit you. For ex.: Someone with Jupiter in Sagittarius misses a flight to Spain and then this plane was diverted somewhere else due to problems. Jupiter in 1st house- You want to go get a tattoo, but then the tattoo artist cancels on you and in the end you find out that he is not that good at his job. Jupiter in 11th house- you lose a friend because he was not honest with you and betrayed you and later you meet someone who teaches you what true friendship is. Jupiter sextile Saturn- you lose the opportunity to enroll in a new college but later you find something that really makes you happy.

🌠Mars in Scorpio-I have noticed many times that these people are controlling. They want things to go their way. But they are very persistent when they really want something and will do anything for a person. I like that they don't give up on the relationship easily and that they take a serious approach to the relationship. Well, their focus will not be diverted elsewhere when they broke up with the person, but they will use their time to heal. I think they can have energy for just one person and that person can be present in their life for a long time. They take a long time to release something.

🎡Placements in 9th house can mean that you will meet a person on a trip or that you will be together with someone from another culture/country. Maybe even a famous person because this house also represents a part of fame (being known all over the world).

⛵️9th house is also good house for synastry because you can experience a lot with this person. You can, for example, go on a plane for the first time, go abroad or experience something you might not have done before (a kiss in the rain, a picnic on the beach...). It's a very open house and you can learn a lot from the person as well. And it is also a house of marriage.

🏞️People with a Gemini placements many times they are looking for someone who can teach them something. They really like people who are intelligent, smart and like to communicate. And they value many times the thinking of others and are attracted to the thinking of someone. You have to actually be interesting to them, to always surprise them with your actions and words. I also noticed that they like challenges or word games.

🎤11th house shows your contact with social networks and famous people. A lot of planets in this house can mean that celebrities notice you sooner. So for ex.: Venus in 11th house- can mean that you can attract someone who is famous or a popular artist. It can mean that you can also have a romantic relationship with him. Or they quickly notice you because of your beauty, charming energy. Pluto in 11th house- It can mean that you have a deeper connection with someone who is famous or that you can often attract people who are mysterious. This can also mean that you are attracted to artists who are no longer around. In society, you can often have a seductive and sexual energy.

⭐️ I will do part 2 -comment if you are interested⭐️

-Rebekah🦋💭🫧

[mixelation]

oh my god stop posting about minato

👀👀👀

fine here’s whatever else i have of asynchronicity

Minato grimaced as he climbed out of the tub. So. Tori did not care about him killing people and maybe was… into that…? But she did physically flee from him at the idea of talking about their feelings.

He probably should have expected that. Oh well. They could work on it.

Tori had left an extremely ugly sweater on the floor by the sink, but she’d also at some point pulled a couple yukata and towels and left them on the sink counter. The yukata were both a little too small on him, but he pulled one on anyway. He could go home and grab something in less than a minute, but he also liked Tori doing things for him.

His joints all felt sore as he walked. The main area of the house had an open kitchen and living area, he found Tori cutting up potatoes. They’d all sprouted, and she was frowning to herself as she cut around the sprouts. The way she held her knife was remarkably civilian, and Minato paused to watch her for a few moments.

She blushed when she realized he was watching her, and then in true Tori fashion, started babbling about different ways potatoes could poison you.

Cute, Minato thought, and then went and collapsed on the couch. He fell into a light sleep almost immediately, listening to Tori chop away.

He woke again to Tori offering him a bowl of soup.

“I’m not a great cook,” she warned him, and then offered up a thing of chili flakes. “I usually try to cover up my sins.”

The soup was a truly random assembly of things, but Minato didn’t mind. Tori had been working with whatever was on hand, and chakra exhaustion was treated with rest and nutritionally dense foods. Potatoes and tinned tuna weren’t something he’d normally mix, but they were both good for the occasion. He turned down the chili flakes; he didn’t really like spicy things anyway.

Plus, Tori had cooked for him. For him!

“I have some NSAIDs if you want them,” Tori said after a while. “Sorry I didn’t think to offer them earlier.”

“I think I’m okay,” Minato said after a few moments of consideration. Pain like this was a reminder not to push himself.

“What’s the plan next?” Tori asked.

Minato mulled this over. He did not have orders for what to do next, because he’d dropped the dead Iwa commander off at his current assigned camp, very briefly said he’d confirmed the whole camp was dead, including twenty-six additional Iwa-nin he found in the surrounding area, and then just left.

In hindsight, he should have realized he’d done something really major. He hadn’t technically disobeyed orders, but also he’d done a bunch of things and killed a lot of people without orders and then immediately disappeared into the ether. That was probably technically abandoning his post or something.

“I should… go talk to Konoha base camp,” he said slowly.

“Uh huh,” Tori said, and then looked like she was fighting back a laugh. “Do you think they know?”

“Uh, well…”

Minato briefly went over what had happened the previous night, for context. He was currently assigned to a Konoha base camp near the Grass border. He was surveying ahead of a team from Konoha proper that had been sent up to negotiate with Iwa for prisoner release. He’d then run into the prisoners and escorted them back to base. Upon questioning, it had become blatantly obvious to Minato that Tori had been with them, and that she’d been left behind.

“So I just left without an explanation,” he said. “I didn’t really think about it. I was hoping you were just in the woods somewhere, and I’d be back in an hour.”

Tori, sitting cross legged on the couch next to him, shifted uncomfortably. Her gaze fell to the now empty soup bowl in her lap.

“But you weren’t,” he said, “so I went to get you.”

“I…” Tori started, running a finger around the rim of the bowl. “I like… that… you came for me.”

Her face was red. She squirmed uncomfortably. This was Tori telling him something very difficult and emotionally vulnerable, something she’d never say to another human being. He wanted to pull her into another kiss and promise her he would make a world world where she’d never be abandoned again.

That might be too intense, though. Instead he set his bowl aside, and then gently lifted hers out of her hands to also set aside.

“Thank you,” she said, clearly not talking about the soup bowl. “I was… really happy.”

Minato reached forward, running his hand through her hair. It was still damp, just now starting to curl up again, and it smelled pretty. He thought about how good her hands in his hair had felt. He wanted her to feel good too.

She let him pull her into his arms and rested her cheek against his chest while he reclined.

“So will you get in trouble?” she asked, the slightest hint of worry in her voice.

“I have no idea,” he answered, fiddling with her hair. “Probably.”

“You’re awful blaisé about it,” Tori observed, skeptical.

“I did report in last night and say I killed everyone,” Minato said. “The commander seemed shocked, but not angry.”

Tori sat up slightly, frowning at him. “You were gone for like ten minutes, tops. Did you even give him time to react?”

“Not really,” Minato admitted. “But I go off alone all the time and never get more than a slap on the wrist. The worst they’ll do is fine me. I’m too valuable to demote or put on probation.”

“You are worse than I thought you were,” Tori said, tone affectionate, and she pressed her face against him again.

“It’s not like they’ll be mad the Iwa camp is gone,” Minato defended. “Just… surprised.”

Tori let out a short, ironic laugh.

“Probably they’ve already sent someone to investigate,” Minato guessed. “Unless they didn’t believe me. I didn’t realize how insane my report that I’d killed everyone was at the time.”

Tori laughed again.

Minato still wasn’t sure how he felt. At the time, he’d just wanted to make sure the girl he liked was safe, and given he’d had no idea where she was, there was no way to guarantee that while enemies were still alive in the camp.

Probably he would have backed off if he’d found her. But she’d been in the commander’s tent, which was the most well-guarded place. It’d been the last place he’d gone.

A thousand people was a lot, though. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen that many ninja gathered at once outside of Konoha. Did he care…?

No, they’d been in his way, threatening someone special to him. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“They’ll want to talk to me for a long time either way,” Minato predicted. He held up a lock of Tori’s hair and then watched the strains slip through his fingers.

“Come with me?” he asked. When Tori didn’t reply for a while, he traced a line down her spine. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone touch you.”

That got her. Tori shifted on him, her hand balling into a fist in his yukata. He felt a smug smirk spread across his face. So this is what got her off…?

“I can think of some things Konoha-nin could do without touching me,” Tori said eventually.

Minato traced a line back up her spine.

“True,” he agreed. “But can they do those things faster than I could stop them?”

Tori hummed happily.

Minato would not kill or seriously injure a fellow Konoha-nin. But certainly he could intervene in any number of ways.

“We could get a healer to look at you,” he said.

“What, you don’t want me with a cool face scar?” Tori replied, but then immediately admitted she’d like that.

“We can go after I take another nap,” Minato decided. Afterall, what difference would it make if he fucked around for another few hours?

xXx

Everyone at the base camp was severely freaked out. For some reason, this surprised Minato.

“Yo!” he greeted the chunin at mission check-in with a friendly wave. The woman, who’d run multiple missions with Minato, looked up at him with evident fear. She stuttered while she checked him in.

“And, um, w-who’s this?” she asked, waving nervously at Tori. She would not meet Minato’s eyes.

“That’s… Tori,” Minato said lamely. “She’s… well, the commander will know who she is.”

Tori was a known player to Konoha. He did not think most random ninja would know about her, but he hadn’t been keeping the amount of time he spent with her a secret, and he’d actively mooned over her to both Jiraiya and Kushina. It was… it was known. If you’d read Minato’s file, you knew about her.

[princesssarisa]

I once reblogged a post about Disney's Beauty and the Beast where the OP wrote that in a sequel, they'd like to see Prince Adam still struggling to control his temper at times. I think I agree: anger issues don't easily go away. But there's something else I'd like to see in a sequel even more:

I want Prince Adam to make peace with the Beast.

I also want him to know that Belle has made peace with the Beast.

I want Adam to accept the fact that he was once spoiled, selfish, and unkind, and not to excuse it in the least, but to understand that he was made that way by his royal upbringing, not born that way. I want him to see that he can choose to behave differently in the present without hating his past self.

I want him to accept his temper – to realize that just as long as he doesn't act on it in harmful ways, it's okay to feel overwhelming anger when he's attacked or threatened. I want him to know that despite the importance of controlling it, his anger doesn't make him a bad or unlovable person, and that it can be used for good too. Namely to fiercely protect the people he cares about, as when he fought off the wolves to save Belle.

I also want him to accept the fact that he lost interest in dignity and gave in to his feral, "beastly" instincts: wearing tattered clothes, eating like a messy animal, ripping and smashing everything in the West Wing in his rages, etc. I don't want him to remember it as a character flaw, but to know that it was partly the fault of the spell warping his mind and partly out of sheer despair.

I want him to remember that he was never all bad. Even at his most beastly, he was moved by Belle’s request to take her father’s place as his prisoner, which made him agree to the exchange even before he realized that she might break the spell. Then when he saw her crying, he felt compassion and remorse, and he gave her a comfortable room and free rein of the castle. While his ferocious rage when he caught her in the West Wing was inexcusable (his anger itself was justified, but not his reaction that made her afraid for her life), he was instantly racked with remorse, and when he realized she had run into the forest and was being threatened by wolves, he risked his life to save her, which inspired her to give him a second chance.

Then, after he comes to these conclusions, I want him to be assured that Belle has done the same. I want him to know that Belle truly loves him, not just a role he learned to play to please her.

There's a comment somewhere or other on TV Tropes (I think on the Fridge Brilliance page), which says that the Beast "had to learn to hate himself" to become a better person. That breaks my heart. I don't want him to go through life hating himself and pretending to be someone else, or, if he does, for it to be portrayed as a good thing. That's no way to live.

I've been thinking of more recent Disney/Pixar movies like Turning Red and Inside Out 2, which promote accepting the messy sides of yourself (without using that acceptance as an excuse to behave badly, though) and loving every part of yourself. Beauty and the Beast obviously isn't about that mindset, but arguably just the opposite – some of the creative team have said that the Beast's character arc is about the universal process of learning to control our "animal" instincts and become civilized human beings. But are these movies’ different messages mutually exclusive? I'd like to think the Beast/Prince Adam can choose to be a civilized human being, yet fully accept the "animal" part of himself too.

I know that part of the problem is that I see parallels between the Beast and a neurodivergent person. Lack of social skills, physical messiness, struggle to connect emotionally with others, overpowering anger under stress that he struggles to regulate, etc. I see my own AuDHD qualities in him – maybe I'm projecting them too much onto him – and I feel as if part of his character arc is about learning to "mask." I know this wasn't the creative team's intention, but it feels that way. I don't want Adam to spend his entirely life masking and hating what's under the mask, or to think Belle loves only the mask and not his true self.

Let him make peace with the Beast.

[emeryhiro]

Do you think Carol would have continued to stay with Ezekiel had Henry not died? For me, Carol's married era in the Kingdom is a conundrum - because on the one hand, I love that she got to experience some peace and happiness after being put through the wringer both emotionally and mentally. I love that she was able to save Henry and at least partly come to peace with the fact that she was able to find and save this kid - when she has lost so many in the past (which makes it all the more heartbreaking she has go through all of that again in s10 - I love s10 but it so emotionally hard to watch as a Carol fan). But - in the second half of s9 whenever Carol is shown in the Kingdom, it feels a little wrong - like maybe she doesn't belong. She is smiling so widely and brightly - and it is so great to see her lighthearted - but something somewhere just feels off. Even her appearance - her clothes - they don't feel like her. I can't quite pinpoint it. Or I could be just looking at it through shipper goggles. Lol.

I absolutely adore your narrative breakdowns of these two. I don't have much hope for Caryl in TBOC but I am definitely looking forward to your analysis of the episodes to come.

Hi Anon 😊

Thank you so much for the kind words! They truly mean so much to me 🩵🩵🩵

I already have my thoughts/breakdown of TBOC episode 1 written up, which should be posted as soon as episode 1 is released to everyone. I honestly can't wait for everyone to see it and get everyone's thoughts on it as well.

Now, regarding your question...

This is such a good question, and I really had to think about it for a bit to be able to express my thoughts properly.

The short answer is yes, but ultimately, no. I think Carol would have stayed with Ezekiel if Henry had lived, at least for as long as they were in a good place. I know that seems like a cop-out of an answer, but I'll flesh it out a little bit.

Carol was happy enough with Ezekiel, and she would have probably continued to be with him until their situation changed and they had to go through some form of hardship as they naturally would've at some point or another in an apocalypse. Even if it wasn't for losing Henry, there would have been something else that would have pulled them apart because despite them being happy enough, their relationship lacked the depth to withstand severe adversity. They loved each other, but they weren't IN love, if you know what I mean.

If by some miracle they didn't face any hardship of any kind, then yep they probably would stay together for two main reasons (and trust me, this hurts my Caryl shipper heart to say):

Loyalty/Convenience: As we've seen, Carol is an incredibly loyal person. We don't know Ezekiel as well as we know Carol, but from what I could tell, he seems to be a very loyal person as well.

Trauma/Sacrifice: The only person that Carol would hypothetically leave Ezekiel for would be Daryl. But both Carol and Daryl have experienced way too much trauma to actually come clean about their feelings, not unless something huge happened to push them to do so. Daryl would never ever think he's good enough for Carol, or that he could make her happy compared to how Ezekiel appeared to make her. And Carol would feel the exact same way about Daryl, and she'd also be content with (as you said) the peace and happiness of staying with Ezekiel because she would never think she deserved anything better than that.

Ultimately, the perfect circumstances that would have kept Carol and Ezekiel together are near impossible in the world they live in. Starting a family with Ezekiel and Henry definitely helped Carol heal from some of her past trauma with Ed and Sofia, but ultimately the deeper traumas and wounds that she had yet to face and heal from (as she will in TBOC) would have never healed if she stayed with Ezekiel. They would have eventually been naturally pulled apart because neither is made for the other.

I also think that Carol always sensed/knew that her relationship with Ezekiel had an expiration date, and she had probably prepared for that inevitable end from the start of the relationship, while Ezekiel on the other hand, was less willing to accept that their relationship was at its end when Carol tried to return the ring in S9EP16.

Regarding Caryl...

I honestly don't blame you for not having much hope for Caryl, especially with all the mixed messages being sent around with the current publicity campaign. And I'm not sure if this will mean anything or change anything for you, but I'm personally still confident that canon is where we're heading. And as I've said in my previous posts, especially in the summary section of my last one (here), it makes sense (at least to me) for them to wait until season 3 to finally make Caryl officially canon.

I'm just gonna fangirl here for a second, but I believe (since the first time I saw them 12 years ago) that Carol and Daryl are soulmates, and I don't just mean platonic soulmates, but soulmates in every sense of the word. So, in my mind, based on all the evidence I've seen, one way or another, they will be together in the end. But like I said, that's in my mind. The final outcome for Caryl depends on Norman and Melissa's vision for the characters, which I understand may not align with mine, but I trust that no matter what they end up giving us, it's still gonna be a fantastic story ♡

~~~~

Thank you again for the really interesting question ♡♡♡ I hope my answer made sense and got my thoughts across properly.

I can't explain how excited I am about TBOC and seeing Carol and Daryl in the same frame again. ONLY 19 DAYS TO GO!! 🥰🎉

[animentality]

we talk a lot about how much ketheric hated durgetash, but what about how much orin hated durgetash? either she despised her sibling and hated seeing them happy (and also distracted from bhaal), or she actually got along pretty well with her sibling until gortash came and ruined it. she must have been so jealous, but not jealous in a “i wish it were me fucking durge/gortash” way, jealous in a “im the only one who seems to be taking this group project seriously but you’re the two getting the credit from teacher” way.

See, but here's the more tragic thing to consider...

Yes, the idea of Orin always hating Durge, and then flying off the handle because she can't handle being perpetually single and pretending it's for religious radicalism reasons is funny.

But what if Orin genuinely cared for them, because they were nicer to her than anyone else?

What if they actually had a somewhat decent relationship because deep down, they know they aren't that different?

The Dark Urge killed their parents, and they had to have felt regret...but they pushed down their feelings, and embraced being a Bhaalspawn, because what else could they do, really?

Their father would literally DISSOLVE them if they disobeyed.

But maybe they'd look at this younger fellow Bhaalspawn, and they'd remember having a childhood before that...and they'd feel bad for her. Take her under their wing.

And she, in turn, wouldn't be used to having someone who actually treats her kindly, or at least, with any degree of mercy?

I'm not sure where I read it, but I think it's mentioned somewhere, or was supposed to be in the game or something, that she tried to resist Bhaal once in the past, but was shut down.

And that is really sad to consider, because maybe Orin knew she was trapped, so, like the Dark Urge, she chose to embrace her heritage because she had no other choice.

But she and the Dark Urge have this in common, and that's why they'd get along...

Until. That fucking Chosen of Bane...

Suddenly the Dark Urge isn't spending any time with her...suddenly, they're moody, withdrawn.

Defensively angry.

See, there's a nasty note from the Dark Urge to Orin in her bedroom...

They say that Orin's blood is "impure."

And I can see why that would hurt Orin a lot...but in HER note, she just mentions how she hates how close Durge is with Gortash?

So maybe.

Hear me out...

Orin had NOT been planning on usurping the Dark Urge at all, like Sarevok says, until they met Gortash.

THEN, she felt betrayed.

Like...I thought we were alike. I thought you knew how it felt, to repress your feelings, and to embrace your destiny, instead of your own needs...but here you are.

Embracing a Banite...spending less time in the temple...with me.

So rather than feeling betrayed because she "loves" Bhaal...deep down, on a subconscious level... she's devastated because the only person she felt could understand her...was becoming someone new.

And she hated it.

And anon...

Orin is an artist at heart.

Creating grisly art was her way of expressing her individuality.

The Dark Urge mentions that they admire her art... but also that it's "useless" because Bhaal doesn't care for it...

Maybe they used to encourage her to be artistic as a child?

Because they know better than anyone, how you must suppress any sense of individuality as a Bhaalspawn. That's not what you were made for. But they knew it helped her emotionally.

And before Gortash, they lightly encouraged it, or at least allowed it...but then she starts being abrasive and complaining about Gortash.

She starts saying, do you truly serve Bhaal, or Enver Gortash, and they'd snap back, because they're defensive about it right, that she doesn't really understand what Bhaal wants???

So I think the Dark Urge showing contempt for her artwork was just a coping mechanism.

They had abandoned their individuality a long time ago, but suddenly this Enver Gortash says he likes them for them...he says, I love how smart you are...and they feel like...they're more than a Bhaalspawn...

And Orin is hurt and betrayed, because she thought they were in this together...and they're confused and anxious, over this problem that they can't simply kill...

So in short, anon.

Yes.

I think the Dark Urge and Gortash's relationship DID put a huge strain on the Dark Urge's relationship with Orin.

I think it would've really broken her heart, to know she was alone with just Bhaal for company.

I also think she needn't have worried, because they'd both get what was coming to them anyway in the end.

They were never going to last forever, her own actions be damned.

Alas, anon.

I feel...so sorry for them all.