#for ma most beloved sis

[jayvrontio]

The boy Ethan

Lil gift I did for ma icon @lazy309 of her oc Ethan >:3

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHE

[tallulah477]

Prove To You

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Yandere!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-con, Predator/Prey Kink, Chasing, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Oral (female receiving), Edging/Orgasm Delay, P in V, Knotting, Size Difference, Fingering, Slight Degradation (use of 'whore'), Belly Bulge, Lapdance (kinda), Creampie, Alien Genitalia, Squirting, A Few Ass Slaps, Mentions of drinking and being tipsy/drunk, Brief Violence/Violent Thoughts (not towards reader), Brief mention of pregnancy, Threat of cutting off another's kuru/neural queue, Thoughts of killing/murder, One (1) non-sexual face slap (reader slaps Neteyam)

Word Count: 9.7K 💀

A/N: Hiiiii it's been a while 🤷🏻‍♀️

Summary: It was only ever supposed to be a hookup, something fun to pass the time. But to Neteyam, it was so much more than that. He's in love with you, obsessed with you - his perfect little mate. But he doesn't know why you keep running away.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Yawne - Beloved

Tìyawn - Love

Tweng - Loincloth

Tawtute - Human

Kuru - Neural Queue

Tsaheylu - Bond, Neural Connection

Swoasey - kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages)

Kaltxì - Hello

Pxir - Beer

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader / Healer

Skxawng - Moron / Idiot

Iknimaya - Rite of Passage

Oel Ngati Kameie - I See You

Tanhì - Star

Muntxate - Wife, Female Spouse

Mawey - Calm

He’d only wanted to kiss you. To feel your soft lips pressed against his again. 

It had been so long since he’d gotten to feel them. The mask you have to wear is always a frustrating obstacle. He begs from time to time for you to pull it off, just for a moment, so he can press his warm lips to yours, taste your tongue on his just for a few blissful seconds before the lack of air catches up with you and you have to replace it.

You always say no, always push his hand away from where he has it cupped lovingly around the side of your head, but it never stops him from asking. 

You’re not wearing a mask now though. Instead, a long tube spans one side of your face, curling around your ear and stretching across your cheek before the very end of it forks off into your nostrils. At first glance he panicked, terrified of the thought of you out in the dangerous Pandora environment as a human without your only source of oxygen. It’s silly. He knows that you could have never made it to the village from the lab without some way of breathing. But he can’t help how he reacts, needing to be sure, needing to know that you’re okay. 

He’s at your side in an instant, kneeling in front of your tiny frame, large hands engulfing your head as his eyes searched your face in concern. You smack his hand away, answering his concerned questions of “Ma yawne, what is going on? Are you okay?” with a short “Fine. It’s the new tech the lab guys made,”

He calms, anxiety slipping from his body now that he knows you’re still safe. His eyes flicker over your face, a small smile pulling at his lips as he takes in all your beautiful features in front of him. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, he’s always thought that, ever since the very first moment he met you all those years ago. But now here, without the thick layer of glass covering your face, it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. 

“You’re so pretty, tìyawn,” He whispers, fingers unconsciously reaching out again to brush against your cheek. It’s finally accessible, bare and soft under his fingertips before the dull sting of another slap knocks his hand away. 

You don’t like public displays of affection. 

Or, at least, now you don’t. 

You used to not mind it. Back before that night in front of the fire, you would touch him all the time - sweet and gentle touches when you were talking, so tactile in your interactions with him. A quick squeeze to his knee whenever he was able to make you laugh, friendly half hugs as greetings that would make his heart pound in his chest every single time, your intoxicating scent filling his lungs and suffocating him in the best way. 

He’d keep his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in until you were all he could smell or think about for the rest of eternity if he could. 

He used to carry you places when you would tag along on fun adventures with him and his siblings. Excitement coursed through him every time you agreed to join them, tail swishing eagerly behind him because he knew that eventually you would get tired from walking and allow him to carry you on his back. You like to talk, prattling on about whatever was going on at the lab or a fun new piece of tech that Norm and the others were working on. Sometimes you’d talk about the current drama - someone said you talked too much, were too abrasive, but that you thought that they personally needed to grow a backbone. He’d listen to whatever you had to say - soaking up your voice like the most melodic song and committing every detail you provide him to memory. 

But your voice has a physical response on him. But the horrified looks his siblings would send him when they would see the tent in his tewng from where his hard cock had slipped out of its sheath was always well worth the embarrassment. The feeling of your soft skin on his - arms wrapping around his neck for balance, his hands completely engulfing your warm thighs from where they wrapped tightly around his torso as far as they could. He’s spent many nights imagining them wrapped around his waist from the front instead.

You didn’t mind public displays of affection when you drank an entire swoasey of pxir and danced in front of him by the fire. The celebration had wound down, the clan members satisfied in celebrating the induction of The People who had passed their Iknimaya just a few hours ago. Only a few younger adults who seemed to have the same idea as you remained now, each couple splintering off to different parts of the campground to get their much needed privacy. Even Lo’ak has moved away, enamored by the pretty girl sitting on his lap, uncaring about the way his hands slide down to cup her ass and pull her closer. 

The fading glow of yellows and oranges look amazing against your skin, the steady crackle of the fire like a song all on its own as your hips move to the music only your own head and nature provides. Neteyam’s eyes are wide, excitement coursing through his veins as he watches your hips sway. You sway too, your body a bit unsteady from the drink still in your hand, but mostly it's your hips - the sensual swish back and forth, beads from your tewng (a gift from Kiri he suspects) clank together against each other and your thighs. Your pretty thighs, so soft he wants to wrap his entire hand around them, spread them open for him and see you like he’s always dreamed of. You’d be so wet, so sticky and drenched for him that he’d be able to just slide right in. You were made for him. Made to take him. He’d fit between your thighs so perfectly despite your size difference, he knows he would. 

His breath catches in his throat when you dance closer, small body seductive in the way it calls to him with your movements. You toss the swoasey to the side, the little liquid that was left pouring out and soaking into the ground beside you. Your hands find their way to his bent knees, heat filled eyes never leaving his as you push his legs apart so you can stand between them, searing him with their intensity even from behind the glass of your mask.

Your hands slide up his legs, tiny fingers creeping up the insides of his thighs and he can’t help the audible gulp that escapes him when he feels his cock nudge against his already wet slit, threatening to poke out at any moment. 

Great Mother, you’re so gorgeous. The most beautiful woman Eywa has ever created. You must have been created by her - no other god or goddess or being could ever have made anything more perfect and irresistible than Eywa herself. 

Surely, the Great Mother has made you for him. Just for him. 

“Why so nervous, Teyam?” You giggle, leaning up as far as you can towards his face while still keeping your teasing hands on his thighs, dangerously close to the now bulging fabric. “Tawtute got your tongue?”

“I–um–” He chokes out. He can’t breath, can’t breath with you so fucking close to him. He wants you so badly, wants to touch you so badly he feels like he might die if he doesn’t.

And then you're turning in the cage of his open thighs, back pressing against his front as you grab his shaking hand. There’s a satisfied smirk on your face as you drag his arm around you, the large appendage spanning your entire chest as he sprawls his fingers out across your front. His fingertips automatically curl around the curve of your breast while his palm caresses the other through your beaded top, his body subconsciously reacting to your own guidance. 

His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode in his chest, breathing labored as his hard cock digs into your back.

“You can touch me,” You whisper, but his ears flick at your words and catch them loud and clear. “Want you to play with me.”

“Ha-fuck,” He groans, mouth falling open in silent awe as your top shifts underneath his hand and his finger grazes your hard nipple. Without thinking his hand squeezes your chest, gently but firm enough for you to gasp as he greedily gropes both breasts at once. 

He can smell you now, the mind dizzying scent of your arousal filling the air around you both as you gasp and giggle excitedly at his sudden action, both of your tiny hands reaching up to grip at his big one as you press him tighter against you. 

“Come on, Teyam,” You moan, moan, and he’s not even touching you yet. You turn your head to look at him, craning your neck as you stare up at him with wide, lust filled eyes. “Have some fun with me.”

That night he spent with you under the hypnotic glow of the fire will be forever burned into his mind. Every detail, every moan, every sigh, every praise and whine and plea spilling from your lips as he made love to you for the very first time is kept under the sacred lock and key of his heart - a memory he saved with Eywa back at the Spirit Tree the morning after so that he would never have the possibility of forgetting. 

The memory of your gasp as he pushed you down, beads flying across the mossy ground as he tore your clothes off like an animal and how the roughness of it all made your arousal even stronger. His eyes greedy as they took in their fill of your beautiful body splayed out in front of him like a prize before he covered you with his own. Your fingers teased along his bullet wound scar, tracing the raised line with careful fingers, and he thinks that maybe your loving touch will be enough to fully heal it. 

The place between your thighs feels like home, your tiny pussy swallowing him up and holding him close like the most perfect combination of love and safety. Your voice ringing in his ears, sweet and sensual as you whimper and moan telling him faster, Teyam, fuck me harder, oh god, and he whines in return, cock throbbing and embarrassingly close to bursting so fast already, and sending up thanks and prayers to the Great Mother for granting him this amazing moment with you.

It’s the blending of two hearts, two souls made for each other and coming together as one in a bond so powerful that no one can ever break it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a kuru, Neteyam can feel you in himself anyway - can feel you wrapping your tiny fingers around his brain and heart and very being, solidifying your bond together without the need for tsaheylu. 

And when you pull your mask off, holding your breath as the hiss of air escapes from the broken seal around your face - he can’t breathe either. The feel of your lips on his, soft and demanding as you kiss him passionately as he fucks you on the forest floor, makes him see stars.

He’s not sure where the change of behavior came from. One day you were affectionate, touchy and giving with your love, surrounding him with your scent and embrace, pussy wrapped around his cock in a hug so tight he thought you might never let go. He wouldn’t mind that, being buried in your heat forever, warm and loved until the day he dies. But the next morning the walls came up, the attitude started, and when he had gone to greet you with a blinding smile and an adoring ‘kaltxì, yawne,’ on his lips as he bent to kiss your cheek, you pulled back and pressed a firm hand against his belly to push him away. 

He thought that your coldness was nerves, just a reaction a human might have to the new soul bond you’ve experienced. Humans don’t mate for life like the Na’vi do, but you’re special, you’re his, and Eywa has blessed your union and made it so even though it should not be possible. Maybe you just don’t know how to handle it. It’s okay, he can be the patient and supportive mate you need.

But the coldness and hostility doesn’t stop, the days go by and the passage of time doesn’t make you calm down. You don’t throw your arms around him like he wants you to, don’t say those three words he longs to hear fall from your lips said with all the love and trust that you have in your little tawtute body. 

Instead, there’s almost anger, a sudden indifference that he can’t seem to place. Had he done something wrong? He doesn’t think so. So, he tries to do the best he can, be the best mate he can be for you during your obvious time of struggle. He’s always there for you, will always be there for you, providing support and bringing you fresh meat, dicing up your favorite fruits and making you pretty jewelry that he knows will look so beautiful on you if you ever just wear it. 

You don’t. You toss the jewelry to the side like it's nothing, you let the food rot exactly where he’s left it.  

You’re not a Na’vi, you don’t understand the implication of your crassness towards his gifts. You don’t see how your refusals break his heart. It’s okay - you’ll learn. Humans are . . . unusual creatures. It will just take a bit more time for you to warm up to the ways of The People.

But his optimism stings with each slight, each indifference you show towards him. Great Mother, you’re so mean to him. Always trying to run from him when he grabs at you, ripping your hand away from his whenever he tries to hold it. You’ve been hiding from him, your trips into the village getting less and less frequent and you don’t let him in when he tries to come to the lab to visit you. 

“You don’t even like being here,” You say when he tries. And you’re right. The stuffiness of the lab makes him tense, and it feels like he can sometimes feel the energy from the machines pressing up against his body. But when he’s with you he doesn’t care. You’re the only thing that matters to him, and when he’s with you, it’s like everything else just falls away. 

The sting from your smack is still on his hand, but he shakes it off as he reaches out to caress your arm instead. “Ma yawne, are you hungry? You should come to my hut. I’ll cook you a fi–”

“No,” You interrupt, shrugging him off of your arm. “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh,” He breathes, disappointment burrowing in his chest but he tries not to let it show even as his fingers reach out to graze against your wrist. “Well then maybe we can go on a walk? There’s a lake not too far from here that I’ve been wanting to show you. It’s beautiful.” Beautiful like you. “I know you’ll love it.”

“No, Neteyam,” You say again, pulling your wrist from his wandering fingers and crossing your arms across your chest. “I’m busy.”

“What are you doing? Maybe I could–”

“No,”

The clipped word rings in his ears. No, no, no, always no. He’s your mate, you shouldn’t have to tell him no. Where you go, he goes. Where he goes, you go. Together. Simple as that. And yet it’s still always no, no, no. You’re turning away from him without another word, walking away with strides he thinks are way too quick for a human, and he can’t help but wonder where you’re heading to in such a rush. 

“Okay,” He calls out, desperate for the conversation not to be over but knowing it will just upset you if he follows you. “I’ll come see you later, tìyawn. I swear it!”

You don’t even look back.

He hasn’t seen you in nearly a week and his patience is running thin. 

Your absence is killing him. 

Where are you? Why won’t you see him? He knows you have to be suffering too without him. Mated pairs aren’t meant to be without each other for so long and he feels like he’s been apart from you for an eternity. 

You stopped coming to the village. He’s been looking, desperately hoping that he’ll see you among the multitude of faces he sees every day. He wants to hear your voice so badly, wants to pull you into his arms and hold you there, safe and loved, while the warmth of your skin soaks into his. 

He wants to push you down again, cover you with his body as he presses you into his sleeping mat - your sleeping mat. Both of yours, together, the way it should be as he plows into your swollen cunt. His hut should be covered in your scent by now, not an inch of it left without your mark on it. 

It’s not, and his understanding for your trouble adjusting to the bond is quickly dissipating. 

He’s tried to come see you at the lab multiple times. A lot. Every day. The lab guys turn him away.

She’s busy. She’s sleeping. She’s too tired. She’s not feeling too well. 

If you're not feeling well, he should be in there to heal you. Give you comfort when you're at your weakest and motivation to get better. So he can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe. If you’re tired, let him in so he can wrap his arms around you. His chest is sure to be a better pillow for you than any other one you would be laying on. He would be warm, chest moving with just the perfect amount of rise and fall to lull you into a restful sleep. Your beauty sleep - not that you need it. And if you’re busy . . . what’s the harm in him just being around you? He won’t bother you, but any time just existing in the same space as you is like a dream come true. 

He tries to be nice, tries to be a good person - these are his father’s friends, allies of the Omatikaya - and he’s never been one to act impulsively. But they are keeping you from him. You are his. His mate. 

By the looks on their faces, they know how lucky they are that they got away with only some vicious snarls and a pushed over lab desk. Keeping away someone’s mate should be punishable by death.

At least, that’s how Neteyam feels right about now.

He doesn’t like being angry, hates the disgusting feeling that he feels clawing relentlessly at his chest. But he’s frustrated and heartbroken at your self inflicted absence and the warriors he’s training are his unfortunate victims. He pushes them hard, way harder than he probably should. Two of them have already had to go see the Tsahìk for their injuries and most of them look just about ready to drop from exertion. The anger he lets out on them doesn’t seem to quell any of the feelings still boiling inside him.

But then he sees you and it’s like time stops. The anger and frustration flee his body in a rush of relief. You’re here. 

You’re hiding behind a tree just along the edge of the clearing. Why are you hiding? Maybe you’re trying to surprise him, stay out of sight until he’s done training so as to not distract him with your beauty. You would have. You’ve told him plenty of times that he has a staring problem. But he can’t help it. You’re just so breathtaking that he can’t help but want to stare at you all the time. You’re what he imagines Eywa incarnate to look like - a beauty so alluring and otherworldly that he just can’t bear to tear his eyes away. 

The training session is just about done. He releases a majority of the warriors for the day and there’s only a few stragglers that need a few minutes of one-on-one training before he can send them on their way too. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying to them, letting muscle memory and repetition help him drag these last few minutes along as quickly as possible before he’s able to run over to you. He’s already decided that he’s going to take you out tonight. A date night, just like his father and mother have. It’s a time where you both can get away from the hustle and bustle of village and lab life and just be with each other. You clearly need it and he’s so desperate to spend time with you that he’s just about ready to kidnap you from your duties just so he can get a moment of peace just to stare at your gorgeous, unmasked face more. 

Maybe do some other stuff too. Hopefully. 

His heart hasn’t been the only needy thing of his without you. 

The last warrior he’s with is really pushing his luck. How hard is it to switch a knife from a bladed upward position to a downward facing position with just one hand? It’s a simple wrist movement to perfect a move that might save your life one day and this skxawng keeps. dropping. the. knife. Neteyam’s seemingly endless patience is gone. He dismisses the warrior, words much too harsh to be considered professional but he doesn’t care. His mate is waiting for him and he doesn’t want to waste any more time. 

He turns back to head to where you are, a giddy smile pulling at his lips, mood immediately flipping at the thought of finally seeing you, talking to you, holding you. 

Except when he does it’s like he’s being doused with freezing water. 

Another one of his warrior trainees, Oäpon, is standing in front of you and Neteyam can see how he’s purposefully bulging his muscles a little more to make them seem bigger - an action male Na’vi do when trying to attract a mate. Neteyam wants to rip those muscles out of his worthless body. He should be disgusted with himself with how fast his hand twitches towards the knife on his hip, ready to give no thoughts and just act on his emotions. He’s not impulsive, he’s not. But for once in his life he feels like he might actually kill one of his own clan members. 

Would the Great Mother desert him if he did?

But you catch his attention again, the movement of your small step closer to the other man dragging his furious gaze back to you. Your gorgeous eyes aren’t on Neteyam like they should be, but instead on Oäpon in return. You’re smiling at him, grinning so wide that surely it's fake because you’ve never smiled at him like that before. Oäpon lifts his hand and there’s a deep purple flower between his fingers. The flower finds its way behind your ear and all Neteyam sees is red. 

He’s across the clearing in a second, roaring snarls ripping from his chest as he tears the flower from behind your ear. He can hear Oäpon start to talk, to question what the fuck he’s doing, but the other man’s words are cut off with a pained gasp as he’s kicked to the ground and then he’s shock silent, fear written all over his face as he stares in horror at his kuru and the knife held in Neteyam’s inescapable grip. 

“Don’t! Please, don’t,” Oäpon begs, voice shaking as he struggles to force the words out. “Great Mother, help! Please, don’t!”

“Neteyam, stop!” You yell, tiny fists beating at Netayam’s back, but he barely even feels them. 

“She is mine!” Neteyam growls. “Mine. My mate. You do not touch her!”

“I didn’t know,” Oäpon whimpers. “I didn’t know. Please! I swear!”

He wants to do it, wants to slice through the braid so badly. He doesn’t deserve to have it. Kurus are sacred, the ability to connect to Eywa and her creatures is sacred. Attempting to defile the bond between a mated pair is nearly unheard of. Your screams for him to stop are just making the desire worse. You’re protecting him?! Protecting the thing that was trying to . . . no. No, no, no. He deserves to have it cut off, deserves to die.

Oäpon should kiss his feet in thanks for the mercy Neteyam shows by releasing him. 

“I don’t ever want to see you near her again,” Neteyam shouts. Oäpon doesn’t respond, too busy scrambling away and darting across the clearing, but Neteyam knows he’s heard him. 

“You’re a monster!” You scream, another fist coming down to hit at his back. “How could you do that to him?”

Your hits don’t stop and even through his rage he’s trying to be gentle with you. He catches your flying fists in one of his hands, holding them tight as he crouches in front of you trying to get on your level.

“Ma yawne, did he hurt you?” 

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “Did he hurt me? Are you kidding me?"

Neteyam’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“You fucking–” You screech, Neteyam’s ears pinning against his skull from the high pitched, angry sound. “You–you–I–ARGH!”

You're so frustrated, so upset you can’t even speak properly. Maybe you are hurt - Neteyam’s eyes scan your body for injury, eyes lingering on the area around your ear where the flower had been. The flower now lays forgotten at your feet, crushed and ruined from his angry grip, and Neteyam can’t find any source of injury that might be causing your upset.

“You don’t have to worry,” Neteyam says, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “He won’t bother you anymore, I swear it.”

You jerk away from his touch. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Nothing is wrong?”

“No,” You shake your head, wrists still trying to twist out of his grip. “No, there’s something wrong with you. Something is seriously wrong with you,”

“You are upset, tìyawn. Tell me what I can–”

“Don’t call me that!” You scream, nose scrunching with the effort. “Stop calling me that!”

“Oh,” Neteyam’s swishing tail droops in disappointment. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know you didn’t like the name. I only meant to use it to show my love for you as my mate but I can–”

“We aren’t mates, Neteyam!” The words stab like a knife through his heart and his hand loosens around your wrists in shock enough for you to pull them out of his grasp. “We fucked once. A hookup, Neteyam. Sex, that’s it.”

“No,” He whispers. 

Why are you saying this? How could you say this? He was there! He remembers that night more clearly than any other day of his life. You love him. He feels it, feels it with every fiber of his being. You let him into your body, wrapped him tight inside you like a promise that you would never let him go - like he would never have to be alone ever again. You caressed his bullet scar, and he remembers the feel of your gentle fingers silently mourning for it and for all he’s had to suffer. He remembers thinking that being there with you in that moment was worth every other hardship he has to endure. He can take on anything with you at his side. 

“No,” He says again, disbelief coloring his tone. “How can you say that? We are mates! You’re mine!”

“No, we aren’t,”

“We are! I love you, y/n! Oel ngati kam–”

“We are not mated, Neteyam! We fucked. Mindless, hot, means-to-an-end-to-get-off sex. That’s it! Get that through your thick skull,”

He’s watching you as if in slow motion. You turn, stomping away from him as you start to head back into the forest and his brain feels like it’s going a million miles an hour. You’re mates. You are. You have to be - there’s no other way to explain the way he feels about you. The love and utter devotion he has for you. The need to be near you always - looking in your eyes, touching your skin, hearing your voice and the way you’ve always sounded so sweet saying his name. Eywa has blessed your union and he doesn't understand why you don’t feel the same way. Can’t you feel the same inescapable pull that he does? How your soul is tied to his in a way that surpasses even that of tsaheylu?

He reaches out to grab you before you get too far, fingers wrapping around your upper arm. Your own arm flies out around you and the sharp sound echoes through the forest and his sensitive ears before the pain registers on his cheek. 

He’s never seen your eyes so wide before, crazed and panicked as you stare back into his equally shocked amber ones. Your hand is shaking, still raised in the follow through of the slap. The force of your smack is still heating up his cheek, and if he can feel it as much as he is now, he’s sure your hand is probably tingling. 

Any other time he would check you for injuries. You’re so much more fragile than him - you could really hurt yourself if you’re not careful. But you just hit him. Your mate. The man that loves you more than anything. He’s frozen, body cold and not knowing how to react. 

Don’t call me that.

Anger floods through him again. This was Oäpon’s fault. He tricked you, seduced you somehow - out from right under Neteyam’s nose. He should have killed him. 

We are not mated.

You rip your arm out of his grip, wide eyes locked on him as he straightens his body, unfurling out of his crouched position as he rises to his full height. The shadow his body creates over you sends something primal through him. The darkened image of him completely overtaking your tiny figure makes him hungry. Possessive. 

Just sex, Neteyam. That’s it.

He won’t let that worthless skxawng corrupt you anymore. You’re the love of his life, his tanhì. You’re just confused. You’re not thinking clearly. 

You don’t mean it. 

He feels like if he concentrates hard enough, he can hear the sound of your heart racing. Or maybe it's his own, the frantic thump thump thump thump thump of his heart pumping rushing blood into his ears and making him feel like there’s static in his brain. 

When you turn to run, he’s not even shocked. His pupils dilate until there’s barely any color left, predatory gaze marked onto your back as you sprint into the dense Pandoran forest. Everything is so clear to him now. You’re testing him, wanting to see how loyal he is and how far he’ll go to keep you. You’re a beautiful woman, of course you’d have options. But you chose him for a reason, and now you want him to chase you - to prove himself a strong and worthy mate.

You want to play hard to get? Fine. He’ll play. 

He’s a natural hunter, an apex predator - and you, tiny human, have just become his prey. 

It might be fun to hunt you again - sometime in the future when this is all behind you. He’d be sure to make it as fair for you as possible: give you a head start, maybe allow you to rub some mud on your skin to hide your scent just to drag out the game a little longer, give you ample time and resources to find a good hiding spot where you can sit and try to listen with your not that great human hearing for any sign that he’s creeping up on your position. He’d wrap his arms around your waist when he inevitably finds you, smug grin tugging at his lips when your giggled shrieks pierce his eardrums as he pulls you from your oh so clever hiding spot. And then, he’d claim his prize, tearing your clothes from your body right there wherever he found you and fucking you until your giggly shrieking turns into blissful moaning. 

This isn’t fun. It’s not a game. And your headstart is dwindling rapidly. You’re racing through the forest, running as fast as your feet will carry you. He can hear your heavy breaths, the sound of the ground crunching under your clumsy feet. He can smell you, the scent you’re leaving behind in your rush is a direct trail back to you for him to follow. 

He doesn’t need it. He never lost sight of you. 

One of his strides equal close to four of yours, and he covers ground quickly as he closes in on you. He catches you only a little further into the forest than where the chase started and you scream as he tackles you to the ground, the force of his momentum completely knocking you both off your feet. He doesn’t let you touch the ground on the fall, twisting his body enough to take the brunt of the impact. The action still leaves you breathless, dazed for a moment before seeming to come back to yourself and struggling to get off from on top of him.

His hold around your waist is secure and he uses the anchor he has around your waist to throw you on to the ground beside him before climbing on top of you and pinning both of your hands above your head with one of his. 

“Get off me!” You scream, body struggling underneath him, hands pulling in his unrelenting grip as you try to get free, but you can barely move under his weight. “Get off me, Neteyam! Get off, get off, get o–”

His free hand latches around your throat, your words dying on your tongue as his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. 

“Quiet!” He hisses, baring his fangs. “Be quiet!”

The aggressive display makes a small whimper rip from your throat and he can feel the vibrations tickle under his palm. You’re not quiet though, you never stay quiet - ever the talker that you are. You’d talk his ear off if you could. The only time you’ve ever stayed quiet is when you avoided him, and he refuses to let that happen again. 

“Neteyam, please,” You whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re scaring me. Let’s just relax and talk about thi–”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” He growls. “You’ve said enough already, don’t you think?”

He releases your hands, grip on your throat loosening and moving down slightly until it's just a singular hand pressed against your chest to keep you pinned. Your hands immediately latch onto the large hand, one of your own clutching the back while the other curls around one of his long fingers. He feels how you pull at it, trying to get it off of you - and he knows how much harder you could be trying right now if you wanted to. 

He lowers his face to yours, inches away so that his breath fans across your skin as he speaks. “You like to talk, but you don’t like words. You’ve made that clear. My words mean nothing to you.” He can feel how your quick breathing puffs against his face too, the warm air caressing his cheeks. “You need actions - a visual representation of my devotion to you. I see that now.”

In a flash, his hands are balling into her t-shirt, pulling roughly in either direction and the thin material gives easily under the pressure. You gasp as he rips your shirt down the middle, the torn fabric falling on either side of your body as he does the same with your bra with a quick snap of his wrist. 

“What are you doing?!” You shout, but you can’t fool him now. He’s grown tired of your games and your body can’t lie to him. 

“Don’t worry, yawne. I’ll give you what you need,”

The sound of ripping material echoes through the otherwise peaceful forest. Your shorts require just a bit more force to tear, but it’s barely a percentage of his full strength so the fabric comes apart at the seams easily leaving the ruined bottoms still around your waist and thighs, but a large opening right at your center. A rumble of satisfaction builds in his chest when he smells you, the first scent of your arousal permeating the air around you. You gasp when he rips your panties too, leaving nothing left of the light blue material but the thin elastic around your limbs and hips. 

His mouth waters at the sight of your pretty pussy, bare and tempting and already getting so wet for him. 

“Fuck,” You whimper, arms splayed out beside you, fingers gripping into the moss covered ground. 

“You like it when I’m rough, huh?” Neteyam teases. “When I’m demanding and just take what I want from you?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the way he can see your pussy’s responding clench is damning to your denial. 

“I remember now,” Neteyam’s hand slides down your thigh and caresses your calf, long fingers wrapping around your leg as he presses a nipping kiss to your ankle just above your sock. “You loved how I shoved you down on the ground that night. It made you gush in your pretty little tewng, didn’t it?”

“S-shut up,”

“Hm, my muntxate likes being handled roughly, doesn’t she?”

Your response is a shocked squeal when he snatches your hips, hauling you up off the forest floor, the quick snapping of moss ripping from the ground as you’re abruptly pulled upwards. Your entire world is turned upside down as Neteyam dangles you like prey in front of him. He throws your legs over his shoulders and wraps a secure arm around your stomach to hold your lower back to his chest. The other hand holds onto your thigh to make sure to keep you spread before him as if you had any chance to wiggle away. 

A choked sob rips from your throat as your hands reach for the ground, blood rushing to your head as your fingers stretch as far as they can trying to get leverage and hold yourself up. Your fingertips only just barely graze the soft green. 

Neteyam groans as he enjoys the sight right in front of his face. You’re spread open for him, pussy perfectly framed by the destroyed fabric - dripping and glistening in want against the dimming sunlight despite yourself. He can see how you subconsciously contract and clench it, hole practically begging him to fill it with his tongue. He wants to bury his face in it, suffocate on your smell and taste until it’s all he can think about. 

So he does. 

He digs his face between your legs, tongue lapping at your folds like a man starved. He is. He didn’t get to do this your first time. It was too fast, too desperate. He couldn’t control himself with you. Everything about you calls to him like a siren, luring him in with your beauty and light. You dragged him down on top of you that night. You were already open, you told him - had fucked yourself with that fake cock he had found hidden in your drawers during an impromptu hangout in your bedroom at the lab. You still felt suffocatingly tight when he pushed in, but he had been grateful that he didn’t have to wait.

He had waited so long for the chance to be inside you that he felt like if he had waited another second without you he would have exploded. 

Your back arches as he licks up your slit, moaning loudly as his textured tongue slides across your clit. 

“Oh my god,” You gasp out, hands forgoing reaching for the ground and finding purchase on his thighs instead. “Neteyam, f-fuck,”

He hums in response, his tongue targeting the sensitive bundle of nerves, sliding and flicking relentlessly against the small bud as your moans and gasps get louder and louder. Your sounds are driving him crazy, the taste of you on his tongue setting every one of his nerves on fire. His cock is already hard, already working its way past his wet slit and tenting in his tewng. You taste so good, so perfect for him. He wonders what it feels like for you, how good it must feel for you to be writhing in his grip now, so vocal for him in your pleasure that your voice is already starting to sound a bit raspy from use. He bets his tongue feels better than any other man you’ve ever tried, the texture of it foreign and unique and unlike anything else you’ve ever had before. 

It will be the same way for him too, he’s sure. He’s dreamed about it, fantasized and jerked off to the thought of your tongue, soft and silky, running up and down his cock. You’d torture him with it, be teasing and delicate in your licks, alternating between those featherlight, barely there teases against his lavender tip and firmer strokes down the base of his cock. 

Your nails are digging into the meat of his thighs as he wraps his lips around your clit, panting breaths telling him yes, right there, Teyam, fuck, fuck, yes as your hips try to hump against his face. You’re right there, right on the edge, ready to fall over it with just a little bit more.

But he stops, reveling in your frustrated groan as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked core. His intense golden eyes meet yours when your head forces its way up, raspy voice whining a desperate ‘why’ as you feel your orgasm slipping away from you. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” He demands. He needs to hear you say it. 

“Teyam…” 

He can’t bear to hear you deny him again. Can’t handle hearing you say the words that make him feel like his heart has been dunked in acid.

His lips latch onto your clit again, sucking harshly at the tiny bud and your words cut off with a gasp. He works you back up, your head falling back as he nips at your clit with his sharp teeth before licking down your slit to circle your entrance. You’re so tight, so so so tight around his tongue as he pushes it in. You clench around the wet muscle and then somehow clench even tighter when the hand gripping your thigh reaches over to rub firm circles on your clit.

“Teyam, oh god, Neteyam, please!” You beg, thighs squeezing his head as they try to force themselves closed. “I’m gonna cum. Please,”

You wail as he pulls his mouth away again, your hole clenching around nothing as your orgasm dissipates again. 

“Say it,” He feels your whole body shiver as his words breathe hot air on your sensitive cunt. “You’re mine. Say it, y/n,”

You sob, frustration evident in every sound and twitch your body makes. You’re trying to lift your head again, looking up at him from your spot dangling below him like a puppet, and he wonders if all the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is getting to you. 

“Say it,” He repeats and then digs back in, the flat of his tongue roughly swiping over your clit before latching onto it again.

Your legs kick as he works you up again, overstimulated pussy throbbing as he plays you like an instrument he’s known for years. His cock is throbbing too, desperate to be released from the confines of his tewng and shown some attention. He wants so badly to push inside your soaking hole and feel how it’ll grip his cock within its slick walls. 

“Neteyam, please!” You cry, and he knows you’re so close, right there again as he hurdles you back towards that just out of reach edge. He doesn’t stop the suction of his mouth. You’ll say it, he knows you will. You’ll say it because if you don’t, you won’t get to cum. He’ll keep you here, upside down in his unrelenting hold until you pass out from exhaustion before he’s going to let you go without saying it. 

You’re a stubborn brat. He can see as he looks down your hanging body that you’re biting your lip. You want to say it - you’re just being stubborn. He sucks harder on the swollen bud, free hand smacking your hip and your asscheek just hard enough to make you cry and gush further on his tongue, the remaining remnants of your clothes doing very little to muffle the sting. 

“Okay!” You yell. “Okay, okay, Neteyam! I’ll say it! I’m yours! Please, please let me cum!”

The words make Neteyam’s chest tighten. Finally. Finally, you’ve admitted it, and the excitement from the admission urges him to lick you faster. He’s sloppy and greedy as he eats you out, overeager and face wet to the point of dripping as he devours you for all you have. You cum on his tongue with a choked scream, hands reaching up to grab desperately at his arm encircling your waist, nails digging into the cerulean flesh as your back arches and your thighs clench tightly around his head. 

He swallows everything you offer him, lapping up your juices like his favorite most treasured treat, before placing a protective hand on your back to steady you as he lowers you back down to safety.

“Mawey, yawne,” Neteyam coos, gently brushing away a few rogue pieces of moss stuck to your sweaty forehead. You’re still panting, exhaustion creeping over you as your eyes glaze over and threaten to close. The oxygen tube had unhooked from around your ear at some point during your experience upside down. Neteyam guides it back around your ear with careful fingers. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Keep being a good girl while I fuck you, yes?”

Your eyes widen at the mention of fucking, shaking your head slightly even as the full bodied shivers of the orgasm’s aftershocks continue to wrack your body. “N-no, Teyam. C-can’t take i-it.”

Neteyam smiles, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss against your lips. The feel of your lips on his is almost enough to make him cum. He’s so worked up already, so high off the taste of your cunt on his tongue that all it takes is the loving press of your lips on his and he’s a second away from exploding in his tewng and ruining the fun. 

“Yes, you can,” He says against your lips, his sharp teeth digging into your plush bottom lip just to hear you whine. 

Last time he fucked you, he took you from the front. It was love making, a bonding of two souls coming together as one - a spiritual experience filled with panting breaths, eye contact, and the passionate coupling that comes with mating with the one your heart belongs to. 

You don’t deserve that right now, not with the way you’ve hurt him - made him work for the love that should have been given freely. The things you said can’t just be forgotten. You need him to prove his worthiness to you? Prove his loyalty? Then fine, he’ll do that by giving you exactly what you deserve.

You yelp when he flips you over on your stomach, large hands grabbing your hips and hauling them up so your ass is in the air and on display for him. The remaining fabric of your shorts still cover nearly half of your ass, but the little coverage does nothing to diminish the amazing view. You try to push yourself up with your arms, but Neteyam is quick to shove you back down with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“No, no, tìyawn,” He says, running a large hand over your exposed ass, his fingers teasing along the creamy slit of your pussy. “You said you’re mine, so let me see what’s mine.”

His teasing fingers find your hole and his teeth dig into his lower lip when he sees your thigh start trembling as he circles your entrance with the pad of his finger. You like it rough, he has to remind himself. You’re a human, so delicate compared to him that he naturally wants to be gentle with you. But that got him nowhere, it got him ignored. You respond to roughness, passion, him taking charge - so he doesn’t give you any warning before he’s plunging two long fingers inside you all the way to the knuckle.

You scream, slick walls squeezing around his fingers, your own hands once again ripping at the moss below you. The scream is agonized, oversensitive and pained from your earlier edging and orgasm. Your thighs are shaking, desperate sobs erupting from your throat. But the way you’re pushing back against him, rocking back against his invading fingers trying to get them deeper inside you tell him everything he needs to know. 

“Look at you,” He coos. His fingers start up a steady rhythm, thrusting inside you with purpose as he stretches you open. “Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?”

Your moans are muffled against the ground, cheek pressed firmly against the moss from his hand pinning you down by his neck. You ignore his question, too lost in trying to push back against his hand and make him fuck you faster - so he rips his fingers from your gripping cunt, drops of your wetness flying from the force of his retreat, and his large hand lands harshly on your backside. 

You howl at the smack, the sound of the slap against direct skin this time cracks through the forest like a gunshot. 

“I asked if you’re my whore,” Neteyam repeats. It’s not as romantic as ‘I’m yours’, but still just as important. 

“Yes, Teyam,” You whine. “I’m your whore.”

“Just for me, right? Only my whore,” Silence again, but your hips are still wiggling and searching for his fingers, so he rewards your silence with another sharp smack. “Say it, yawne,”

“Fuck!” You cry, ass feeling like it's on fire even as more of your slick drips down your thighs. “Yes, yes! Only for you, Teyam. Only for you,”

“Good girl,” Neteyam purrs, and you’re rewarded this time with his fingers sliding back inside your aching pussy. 

He stretches you out on those two fingers, alternating between scissoring them inside you and curling them to rub at that special spongy spot that makes you squeal and see stars. He contemplates adding a third, but decides that he wants to finish stretching you out on his cock instead. 

This time when you cum, it's less of a scream and more of a deep guttural groan that comes from deep inside you. It’s wetter than he expects it to be when you squeeze around his fingers, and the sight of your slick dripping from your mound onto the forest floor beneath you makes him feel absolutely feral. 

He lets go of the back of your neck and pulls his fingers from your abused cunt. The wet fingers work frantically at the knots on his tewng and he feels like he can’t get the fucking thing off fast enough. When the knots come undone and the tan material flutters to the ground, he breathes a sigh of relief, thick needy cock springing from its confines to slap against his belly. 

When he focuses back on you, your exhausted body is already trying to curl in a ball, eyes threatening to close as sleep calls to you. No, Neteyam thinks. He’s not done with you yet.

He flips you back on your stomach, pulling your hips back up high so they’re flush with his. You both groan as he rubs his hard cock between your folds, the tip nudging at your swollen clit. Fuck, you feel so good, pussy feeling like silk against his aching length. His eyes are locked onto where he’s lining his head with your entrance, watching in awe as he nudges himself forward, your greedy hole welcoming him in like you’ve been doing this forever. He can’t control his sounds, grunts and moans of pleasure echoing loudly through the trees as he sinks himself inside your slick walls. You’re so tight, even with the amount he’s stretched you out already you’re still so tight. But you stretch around him like you were made for him, made to take his cock into your depths - like your insides already know the exact shape of him and welcome him back into their warm embrace.

You whimper as he fills you up, back arching and hands clawing at the ground like you’re both trying to get away from him and closer to him at the same time. 

“I fucked you so good, didn’t I?” He gunts, pulling halfway out of your gripping pussy before slamming back in, relishing in the tortured moan it pulls from you. “That night by the fire. Made you cum so many times, over and over again until you were so cock drunk you couldn’t speak.”

He pulls out again, just a little further this time before thrusting back in. He does it again, and again, the rhythm hard and unforgiving and he pulls your hips closer to his. In the back of his mind he fears that he’s being too mean, too rough, but your gasping hiccups and blissed out sighs contain any worry. This is as much for him as it is for you anyway. He’s allowed to be selfish. 

“You’re always so talkative,” He pants. “Where’s that pretty voice now, huh? You were so talkative that night, just endless pleas of my name falling from your gorgeous lips. Like music to my ears. I wanna hear it again. Please, yawne?”

“Mmh, please,” You whine. “Please, Teyam,”

“Please what?”

“Faster,” You beg. “Fuck me faster,”

Who is he to deny such a sweet and pretty thing?

He leans forward, body curling over yours to cover you completely, one of his hands grabbing yours and linking your fingers together as he presses them both against the ground. His other hand is still on your hip, using it as leverage as he fucks your puffy pussy faster, the tip of his cock barreling against your cervix with each snap of his hips. 

He can feel the knot on the base of his cock swelling, the large ball of tissue nudging at your entrance with each thrust. The instinct driven part of him urges him to push harder against you, to force the knot against your tight hole to see if it will fit. 

He didn’t knot you that night, not wanting to risk hurting you or getting you pregnant so fast with such a new relationship. He came inside you with his fist wrapped tightly around his knot instead. Na’vi bonds are forever. Human bonds . . . now he’s not so sure. He’s not willing to risk it anymore. He’s going to bond with you in every way he knows how. 

When he feels his orgasm creep up his spine, he lets instinct take over. His grip on your hip tightens, thrusts halting as he presses the enlarged ball against your soaked entrance. 

You gasp, whimpering as his knot stretches you more. “Oh god, wait, wait,”

But it's too late. With another determined shove, the knot pops inside you and he has you trapped, locked on his cock until time decides to free you. 

“Neteyam, i-it’s too b-big,” You whine, shock evident in your voice. “Hmh, so full,”

Neteyam plants soothing kisses on the back of your head and neck, the hand on your hip smoothing around your belly to caress the large bulge of the outline of his cock in your stomach. “I know, tìyawn. I know. It’s so much, but you’re doing so well. Just a little more for me, okay?”

He can’t thrust now, can't even so much as pull out an inch now that he’s locked inside you. So, he makes you do the work. He keeps one hand on the bulge in your tummy, the other hand coming down to rub relentlessly at your throbbing clit. The stimulation makes you keen, pussy clenching and tightening around him and working his aching length with your wet walls. 

His fingers on your clit are your undoing. He barely hears any noise from you as your orgasm hits, but this time he’s able to see the side of your face as you come undone. Your eyes roll back into your head, mouth opening in a silent scream, but it's like all the breath has been stolen from your lungs. Your body tenses, muscles shaking through the overwhelming pleasure, and he feels as much as he hears how you gush and squirt all over his teasing digits and the ground below you. 

He moans at the sight, the feel of your pussy clenching around his length and the wetness from your orgasm on his fingers and cock makes him tip over the edge. His orgasm crashes through him, tearing him apart as he spills himself inside you. His cum paints your walls, and his knot makes sure to keep every single drop of it inside you. 

Neteyam collapses next to you, shaking as the aftershocks roll through him, and pulls your limp body safely against his. It will be at least an hour before the knot’s swelling goes down enough before he’s able to slip out. You let out a moan of pain as the knot pulls at your entrance as he adjusts you, but he sushes you.

“Relax, ma yawne. I’ll take care of you.” He coos. “Oel ngati kameie,”

You don’t say it back. You don’t even hear him, already dead to the world as your exhaustion finally catches up with you. 

It’s okay. He knows in his heart that one day soon, you’ll say it back.

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @quicktosimp (cause you said you liked yanderes)

**Comment here to be added to my taglist!

[xjulixred45x]

Guess who just watched Apology Tour/Helluva Boss Critique

MY GOD, STOLAS' DEAD MOSQUITO ATTITUDE HAD ME ROTTEN FROM MINUTE ONE. Does this grown man really believe that HE is the one who should be angry because THE POWER IMBALANCE IN HIS DYNAMIC WITH BLITZ WAS CALLED ATTENTION? Flaco, mature.

APART FROM STOLAS LITERALLY MANIPULATING HIM TO MAKE HIM FEEL BAD "do you feel any remorse for WHAT YOU DO?" FLACO, SKINNY, YOU ARE THE ONE WHO CAUSED THIS SITUATION, NOT HIM (and apart from being a hypocrite, he says that the Exes party is immature but decides to go anyway).

And on top of that they treat it as if the problem were Blitz's insecurity regarding his supposed ""relationship"", how Blitz feels that no one loves him is well stated, but using it in STOLAS OF ALL THE CHARACTERS FEELS LIKE A LACK OF RESPECT FOR THOSE WHO CAN REALLY DEVELOP THIS (like, I don't know, BARBIE WIRE, BLITZ'S SISTER, WHO DIDN'T EVEN APPEAR IN THE EPISODE!!!).

Let Blitz handle the situation the way he handles it, but WHY SHOULD HE GIVE STOLAS AN APOLOGY? SERIOUSLY WHAT MADE HIM OWE HIM AN APOLOGY? I understand it with his exes because well, Blitz gave them a hard time, BUT STOLAS?? It's like some kind of Stockholm syndrome, Blitz REALLY believed Stolas' manipulative bullshit.

The satanic ritual scene made me laugh tough, I'm not going to lie, the second/only positive point.

FOR GOD THE MUSICAL NUMBER WAS BASICALLY THE MOST SUGARCOEATED VICTIM BLAMING I HAVE EVER SEEN, how Stolas ignores all the vital information but at the same time DOES RECOGNIZE THE SITUATION ("i went too hard" and the image of Loo loo land where SEXUALLY HARASSES HIM ) is DISGUSTING.

It's like saying "ah yes, i did shit but it's your fault"

That's it, Verosika my beloved, the best character of the episode. although definitely if she knew the whole context she would have cut STOLAS' dick off.

The fact that they try to make us think that Stolas and Blitz are """over"" when we all know it's endgame is a waste of time, if they really wanted to fix this ship, they would take advantage of the episodes they have, they couldn't have unnecessary drama, but I guess Asking for quality is a lot these days with Vivziepop:)

In general, a deplorable episode that leaves aside aspects that could really help the plot and development of the characters (like Barbie Wyre and focusing more on Verosika for example) and that makes me hate the show more with each episode.

______

(ESPAÑOL)

Adivinen quién vio Apology Tour

POR DIOS, LA ACTITUD DE MOSQUITA MUERTA DE STOLAS ME TUVO PODRIDA DESDE EL MINUTO UNO ¿realmente este hombre adulto cree que es EL el que deberia estar enojado porque LE LLAMARON LA ATENCIÓN DEL DESEQUILIBRIO DE PODER EN SU DINAMICA CON BLITZ? flaco, madura.

APARTE DE QUE STOLAS LITERALMENTE LO MANIPULA PARA QUE SE SIENTA MAL "do you feel any remorse for WHAT YOU DO?" FLACO, VOS SOS QUIEN CAUSO ESTA SITUACIÓN, NO EL(y aparte un hipócrita, dice que la fiesta de Exes es inmadura pero decide ir igualmente).

Y encima lo tratan como si el problema fuera la inseguridad de Blitz respecto a su supuesta ""relación"", el como Blitz siente que nadie lo amara esta bien planteado, pero usarlo en STOLAS DE TODOS LOS PERSONAJES SE SIENTE COMO UNA FALTA DE RESPETO PARA LOS QUE REALMENTE PUEDEN DESARROLLAR ESTO(como, no se, BARBIE WIRE, LA HERMANA DE BLITZ, QUE NISIQUIERA APARECIO EN EL EPISODIO!!!).

que Blitz maneje la situación como lo maneje esta en personaje, pero PORQUE DEBERIA DARLE UNA DISCULPA A STOLAS??ENSERIO ¿QUE LE HIZO QUE LE DEBA UNA DISCULPA? lo entiendo con sus exes porque bueno, Blitz les hizo pasar un mal rato, PERO STOLAS?? es como una especie de sindrome de Estocolmo, Blitz REALMENTE se creyo la mierda manipuladora de Stolas.

La escena del ritual satánico me dio risa, no voy a mentir, el segundo/unico punto positivo.

POR DIOS EL NUMERO MUSICAL FUE BÁSICAMENTE EL VICTIM BLAMING MAS SUGARCOEATED QUE HE VISTO, el como Stolas ignora toda la información vital pero al mismo tiempo SI RECONOCE LA SITUACIÓN ("i went too hard" y la imagen de Loo loo land donde LO ACOSA SEXUALMENTE) es ASQUEANTE.

Es como decir "ah si, oa cague pero es tu culpa"

eso si, Verosika my beloved, el mejor personaje del episodio. aunque definitivamente si ella supiera todo el contexto le hubiera cortado A STOLAS el pito.

el hecho de que traten de hacernos pensar que Stolas y Blitz """terminaron"" cuando todos sabemos que es endgame es una perdida de tiempo, si realmente quisieran arreglar este ship, aprovecharian los episodios que tienen, no podrian drama innecesario, pero supongo que pedir calidad es mucho estos dias con Vivziepop:)

en general, un episodio deplorable que deja de lado aspectos que realmente pudieron ayudar a la trama y desarrollo de los personajes (como Barbie Wyre y centrarse mas en Verosika por ejemplo) y que hace que odie el programa cada episodio mas.

[darkacua]

The rarer the Ship the BETTER

I know as a fandom we made a lot of jokes about Silver and Deuce trying to get their parents together in a relationship just for the hell of it. Who doesn't love a little nonsense about two people who love their single parents too much and only want the best for them?

BUT YOU KNOW WHO ELSE HAS A SINGLE FATHER? AND IS IT COMPLETELY CANON THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE AND REALLY CARES NOTHING TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIS BIRTH MOTHER?

YES, I TALK ABOUT VIL!

The idea that Eric Venue, the big name actor, has somehow started dating Deuce's mom is funnier than anything else to me, for a host of reasons.

Because you and I know that Vil is going to hate the idea for the first few months, you're not going to tell me that this 18-year-old actor and supermodel is not a jealous son.

He has been the most important of his father all his life, he has never had to share his attention and/or love with anyone else even once, since even with his father's scattered schedules he has shown to be someone who always has in mind. count Vil and support him with whatever he is doing.

And he's not willing to share the man who raised him with anyone now, or in the near future.

He calms down as time goes by and after the first time they all have dinner together.

Yes, that includes Deuce in the plans to “introduce my son to my current partner”, it confuses him a little and makes him nervous that his mother is dating not only famous movie actor (“Mom, where the hell did you meet this man?”), if not said superstar, IS THE DAD OF ONE OF HIS SUPERIOR.

A few very uncomfortable months are approaching for this chick-loving boy and our beloved model.

Español bajo el corte.

Se que como fandom hicimos muchos chistes sobre Silver y Deuce intentando juntar a sus padres en una relación solo porque sí ¿Quién no ama un poco de tonterías sobre dos personas que aman demasiado a sus padres solteros y solo quieren lo mejor para ellos?

PERO ¿SABEN QUIEN MAS TIENE UN PADRE SOLTERO? ¿Y ES COMPLETAMENTE CANON QUE NO TIENE Y REALMENTE NO LE INTERESA SABER NADA SOBRE SU MADRE BIOLÓGICA?

SI, HABLO DE VIL!

La idea de que Eric Venue, el gran actor de renombre, de alguna forma haya empezado a salir con la madre de Deuce es más cómica que cualquier otra cosa para mi, por un sinfín de razones.

Porque ustedes y yo sabemos que Vil va a odiar la idea por los primeros meses, a mi no me van a decir que este actor y supermodelo de 18 años no es un hijo celoso.

El a sido lo más importante de su padre toda su vida, nunca a tenido que compartir su atención y/o amor con nadie más ni una sola vez, ya que incluso con los horarios desparramados de su padre a demostrado ser alguien que siempre tiene en cuenta a Vil y lo apoya con todo lo que esté haciendo.

Y no está dispuesto a compartir al hombre que lo crió con nadie ahora, ni en un futuro cercano.

Se calma con el paso del tiempo y después de la primera vez que cenan todos juntos.

Si, eso incluye a Deuce en los planes de “presentar a mi hijo a mi pareja actual”, lo confunde un poco y lo pone nervioso el hecho de que su madre este saliendo no solo con famoso actor de cine (“¿Mama, donde diablos conociste a este hombre?”) si no que dicha superestrella, ES EL PAPÁ DE UNO DE SUS SUPERIORES.

Se aproximan unos meses muy incómodos para este chico amante de los polluelos y nuestro amado modelo.

[sparviero44]

Donald Sutherland

Addio a Donald Sutherland, l'amato attore Oscar onorario che ha recitato in decine di film da Quella sporca dozzina a MASH alla saga Hunger Games è morto a Miami. Aveva 88 anni. Lo annuncia il figlio Kiefer sui social.

"Con il cuore pesante, vi dico che mio padre, Donald Sutherland,è morto. Personalmente lo ritengo uno degli attori più importanti della storia del cinema. Mai scoraggiato da un ruolo, buono, cattivo o brutto. Amava ciò che faceva e faceva ciò che amava, e non si può mai chiedere di più. Una vita ben vissuta".

Nato nel 1935 da una famiglia di origini scozzesi a Saint John, una cittadina canadese nella provincia del Nuovo Brunswick, ma cresciuto ad Halifax, Donald Sutherland nella sua lunga carriera di attore ha preso parte a più di 180 film e ha vinto l'Oscar nel 2017.Il debutto nel cinema è avvenuto in un film italiano, Il castello dei morti vivi, del 1964 e diretto da Luciano Ricci e Lorenzo Sabatini.Nel 1968 appare nella nota pellicola 'Quella sporca dozzina' di Robert Aldrich ma il successo vero e proprio avviene nel 1970 con il film M.A.S.H. di Robert Altman dove interpreta il Capitano Benjamin Franklin ambientata in un ospedale da campo Usa durante la guerra in Corea.Indimenticabile la sua partecipazione, nel 1976, all'opera di Bernardo Bertolucci, Novecento accanto a Robert De Niro e Gerard Depardieu. Federico Fellini, nello stesso anno, lo vuole per interpretare Giacomo Casanova ne Il Casanova, girato completamente nel teatro 5 di Cinecittà.

Tra le altre interpretazioni si ricordano i film Animal House del 1978 di John Landis, Terrore dallo spazio profondo di Philip Kaufman, La Cruna dell'ago del 1981 di Richard Marquand. E ancora Fuoco assassino del 1991 diretto da Ron Howard e, dello stesso anno, JFK di Oliver Stone.Altre interpretazioni per Virus letale (Outbreak) di Wolfgang Petersen, Virus di John Bruno.Con Anthony Hopkins interpreta Instinct- istinti primordiale. Diretto da Clint Eastwood in Space cowboys. In The Italian job del 2003 per il remake di Un colpo all'italiana del '69. Poi ancora ritorno a Cold Mountain, Lord of war, orgoglio e pregiudizio, An American haunting. Nel 2007 e' stato il protagonista della serie tv Dirty sexy money. Infine nel 2017 il film drammatico Elia & John, the leisure seeker di Paolo Virzi'.Si e' sposato tre volte e due dei suoi figli, Rossif e Kiefer, avuti con Shirley Douglas, hanno intrapreso la carriera di attore.

Goodbye to Donald Sutherland, the beloved Oscar honorary actor who starred in dozens of films from The Dirty Dozen to MASH to the Hunger Games saga has died in Miami. He was 88 years old. His son Kiefer announced it on social media.

"With a heavy heart, I tell you that my father, Donald Sutherland, has passed away. I personally consider him one of the most important actors in the history of cinema. Never discouraged by a role, good, bad or ugly. He loved what he did and did what that he loved, and you could never ask for more.

Born in 1935 to a family of Scottish origins in Saint John, a Canadian town in the province of New Brunswick, but raised in Halifax, Donald Sutherland in his long acting career took part in more than 180 films and won the Oscar in 2017. His debut in cinema took place in an Italian film, The Castle of the Living Dead, from 1964 and directed by Luciano Ricci and Lorenzo Sabatini. In 1968 he appeared in the well-known film 'That Dirty Dozen' by Robert Aldrich but the real success takes place in 1970 with the film M.A.S.H. by Robert Altman where he plays Captain Benjamin Franklin set in a US field hospital during the war in Korea. His participation, in 1976, in Bernardo Bertolucci's work, Novecento alongside Robert De Niro and Gerard Depardieu, was unforgettable. In the same year, Federico Fellini wanted him to play Giacomo Casanova in Il Casanova, shot entirely in theater 5 of Cinecittà.

Other performances include the 1978 films Animal House by John Landis, Terror from Outer Space by Philip Kaufman, and The Eye of the Needle by Richard Marquand in 1981. And again Killer Fire from 1991 directed by Ron Howard and, from the same year, JFK by Oliver Stone. Other interpretations for Lethal Virus (Outbreak) by Wolfgang Petersen, Virus by John Bruno. With Anthony Hopkins he plays Instinct - primordial instincts. Directed by Clint Eastwood in Space cowboys. In The Italian job of 2003 for the remake of Un coup all'italiana of '69. Then again I return to Cold Mountain, Lord of war, pride and prejudice, An American haunting. In 2007 he was the protagonist of the TV series Dirty sexy money. Finally in 2017 the drama film Elia & John, the leisure seeker by Paolo Virzi '. He has married three times and two of his children, Rossif and Kiefer, with Shirley Douglas, have undertaken an acting career.

[deathshallbenomore]

Ciao, sono una piccola anon (ah ops, non c'è attivo l'anon, beh comprensibile considerando le grandi menti del nostro tempo che ogni tanto decidono di scriverti) tumblr user che vuole ringraziarti perché venerdì passerò la giornata a Torino e l'organizzazione della giornata si baserà interamente su un paio di ask a cui avevi risposto che ti chiedevano consigli a proposito. Quindi grazie mille e passa una dolce serata <3

AAAAAAAAAAA sono super contenta, spero che torino my most beloved ti piaccia e che i consigli che diedi (con la partecipazione straordinaria di qualche mutual nei commenti) ti siano d’aiuto!

un’aggiunta: nel periodo autunnale/natalizio non ci sono (solo) le semplici luminarie, ma c’è “luci d’artista” in giro per la città, quindi le piazze e gli angolini carini della zona centro (ma non solo) hanno delle luminarie Particolari e mediamente molto molto carine [anche se quest’anno via Po a mio dire Incommentabile, they had one (1) job e cioè mettere le solite luci e invece l’amministrazione ha scelto l’autosabotaggio. bellissimo invece il monte dei cappuccini BLU arrogantissimo]. spero che rimanga in città abbastanza da poter attendere il favore delle tenebre in modo da poter apprezzare le lucette✨✨✨

[dannymultipersonaje]

Wally Darling x Barnaby B. Beagle

DIGO en honor a que AO3 por fin puso como una etiqueta a los personajes de Welcome Home, vamos aponerle un nombre al chip del mejor comediante y al mas querido del vecindario.

(I SAY in honor of AO3 finally labeling the characters of Welcome Home, let's name the chip of the best comedian and the most beloved in the neighborhood.)

Propongo:

Barling

CircusTwo (por sus paletas de colores) (For colours!)

Puppypet (No se si hago un buen juego de palabras)

QueridoPerro (ahora en español!) (in spanish!)

Darnaby (suena mejor dios) (favorite)

Wanaby (esto es una palabra en ingles?)

CircusJoke

PuppetJoke

¿Tienes ideas? dime pleaseeee

[lunamagicablu]

Come un fiore che schiude i suoi petali al sole del mattino, come un piccolo d’aquila che spalanca il becco per ricevere nutrimento dalla sua regale madre, come un innamorato che apre le braccia per accogliere e stringere a sé l’amata, diventando uno, come terra arida che assorbe avidamente ogni singola goccia di una fresca e tanto attesa pioggia, con la quale poi si mescola, divenendo indistinguibile, ma mutata nel colore, nell’odore, nel sapore e persino nella consistenza… Così in me, nel profondo del mio cuore, percepisco e riconosco un movimento verso una Fonte che ha in sé Vita, che è Essa stessa Vita, che rinnova e rigenera tutta la Vita. E quanta Bellezza, quanta Gratitudine, quanta Gioia, quanta Pace ed accoglienza nel ritrovarsi a Casa… Ho ripercorso a ritroso la strada lungo la quale mi ero allontanato, ho versato lacrime su lacrime per ripulire gli occhi dalla polvere e dalla sabbia da cui erano offuscati, ho ascoltato il battito del cuore per sentirmi meno solo ed impaurito nelle notti senza luna, ho ritrovato gli angoli, le svolte, gli incroci e i bivi che un tempo mi avevano disorientato e fatto smarrire… Dietro di me, a terra, ho lasciato una pesante catena spezzata, troppo corta, sia per la Libertà, sia per la Vita… Ora sono qui, oltre quella soglia che non riuscivo a varcare, oltre quella porta di cui non trovavo mai la chiave, oltre quella paura, quella rabbia e quella colpa che non riuscivo a confessare, oltre il tradimento che non riuscivo a perdonare… Casa mia… il luogo più piccino che conosco, così minuscola da stare tutta dentro il cuore, le cui pareti sono a tal punto impercettibili, che arrivano a confondersi con la più remota profondità dell’Universo, dove il sole sorge e non tramonta, dove brillano le stelle in un cielo sempre blu… Sorrido, canto e ballo insieme all’alba che nasce, dopo una lunga notte buia… Tu sei in me… Tu sei la Luce, la Bellezza e la Grazia che avevo abbandonato, Tu sei la Vita che mi anima, Tu sei l’Amore che mi nutre… Tu sei… Casa mia. Con Gratitudine e Amore. Sid Atma ********************************* Like a flower that opens its petals in the morning sun, like a baby eagle opening its beak to receive nourishment from its royal mother, like a lover who opens his arms to welcome and embrace her beloved, becoming one, like arid land that greedily absorbs every single drop of a fresh and long-awaited rain, with which it then mixes, becoming indistinguishable, but changed in colour, smell, taste and even in consistency… Thus in me, in the depths of my heart, I perceive and recognize a movement towards a Source which has Life in itself, which is itself Life, which renews and regenerates all Life. And how much Beauty, how much Gratitude, how much Joy, how much Peace and welcome in being at Home… I retraced the road along which I had left, I shed tears upon tears to cleanse my eyes of the dust and sand that clouded them, I listened to the heartbeat to feel less alone and scared on moonless nights, I rediscovered the corners, turns, crossroads and crossroads that had once disoriented me and led me astray… Behind me on the ground I left a heavy broken chain, too short, both for Liberty and for Life… Now I'm here, beyond that threshold that I could not cross, beyond that door whose key I never found, beyond that fear, that anger and that guilt that I could not confess, beyond the betrayal that I could not forgive… My home… the smallest place I know, so tiny that it fits entirely inside the heart, whose walls are so imperceptible that they get confused with the most remote depths of the Universe, where the sun rises and doesn't set, where the stars shine in an ever blue sky… I smile, sing and dance together with the dawn that is born, after a long dark night… You are in me… You are the Light, the Beauty and the Grace that I had abandoned, You are the Life that animates me, You are the Love that feeds me… You are… My home. With Gratitude and Love. Sid Atma 

[hispanicmcytsexymen]

You know, it's funny.

I remember when the first winner was announced, this hellplace was filled with joy, people were singing, art was born, the man with the golden wings had won.

Yet, He was empty

I was empty.

We knew it was coming, we were the underdogs and he was beloved for so many years, how would he lose? It was foretold by the oracle, it was foretold by the bodies of the many of us that never got to share the culture or the joy of these damned geometric men to you.

And now here we lay again, sitting upfront to the new winner, I saw it all go down, I remember when he was just like us, and underdog, he barely even made it last time we made one of this sickening stupid popularity games, but he won.

It was just so easy, I am still empty

You see, Hispanic culture, internet culture, to be precise, Is a complex maze full of wonders and horrors that lay before the mind of the beholder, I have seen all.

I have been there for it all.

It isn't fair, is it? To just let this man, who I know most of you just let rot in the trash with the rest of them a few months ago, be the one worthy of the title?

Entonces pense...Hagamos este juego un poco mas divertido, si enserio es el hombre ideal para representar a nuestra cultura, a nuestra gente, entonces debe ser digno de estar cara a cara con el hombre que nos ha guiado por tantas decadas.

Que el juego de verdad comience :)

[kabbal]

2, 37, 48 ?

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

Ok donc on obtient :

Angst (17) Character Study (17) Pining (7) Canon-Typical Violence (7) Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion (7)

Donc on voit que je kiffe les character studies (true) et l'angst (j'aime l'écrire, pour ce qui est de le lire, je suis assez difficile). Canon-typical violence va avec ça, selon moi, vu que les character studies sont plus intéressantes lorsqu'elles s'inscrivent dans le canon.

Je ne pensais pas que Pining allait revenir si haut, mais d'accord, ok, je l'accepte. Quant au dernier tag, c'est ma série la plus longue (spn au my beloved)

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

κυνώπιδος, une fic basée sur l'Iliade qui explore le personnage d'Hélène de Sparte. Je trouve que j'ai réussi à aborder beaucoup de sujets différents, et j'aime bien la manière dont j'ai dépeint Hélène (et aussi Ménélas). C'est un portrait nuancé, et j'en suis fière.

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

blisters de cosmicevil, une fic Overwatch qui était très plaisante et que je recommande à celleux qui voudraient une petite tranche de Hanzo/Cole.

[wenshow]

[#TheArtOfLoving] ▪︎ 💚✨️🎉 “.. It was hard today for me not be around you on your birthday my beloved Ana-Lisa, ... 🤯 Let me start it like this: 'si un dia ma bisabo mi stimabo, Ana ta gaña ma gañabo 🤣' ... You are the epitome right now of strength in our lives, and as celebrating your 34th birthday today on our own way, but alive, living, and grateful! ... 🥳 We most definitely know that when we start taking care of ourselves, we start feeling better, we start looking better and we start to attract the better. It all starts with ourself, the making of the true champion. 💪🏾 Having you, your family in my life has been always 'anitja' focused on our own physical health, mental health specificaly our spiritual health within a balanced lifestyle. 🫂 In these stressful and uncertain times, it’s never been more critical, but we are champions of love - and will always be there for each other even beyond times we can't be physically there for each other. 😘 Our life message would be: 'My friend keep leading by example, exercise regularly, maintain a strong social network, tend in to our spiritual needs, look after our financial security, and please watch on life, celebrate it, but think of it as the gentle art of loving yourself.' 🥰 Nos stimabo Ana, nos Anita pabien kurason, bo amigu-ruman di mas lastig i mas felis di tin bo den su bida. 😜✨️ #CelebrateLife🔋 …” ― Gwendell Mercelina, Jr. © ________________ 📸 • @wenshow · · · 📶 • #AnaLisaGarcia • #YDK • #Gratitude • #25Nov • #Nov25 • #Politics • #Politician • #BirthdaySister • #Fighter • #Politico • #BanHendelKuGwendell • #MemberOfParliament • #Thankful • #Parlamentario • #NoShaveNovember • #GlobalCitizen • #PurposeDriven • #TaMiHendenan • #GwendellMercelina • #wenshow • #tenemiskèrpi • #Curaçao🇨🇼 • #gnius • #keepmesharp (at Willemstad, Curaçao) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClZ9GdcO0_C/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kn-mis]

L'Infinito by Giacomo Leopardi

Sempre caro mi fu quest'ermo colle, E questa siepe, che da tanta parte Dell'ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude. Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati Spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani Silenzi, e profondissima quiete Io nel pensier mi fingo; ove per poco Il cor non si spaura. E come il vento Odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello Infinito silenzio a questa voce Vo comparando: e mi sovvien l'eterno, E le morte stagioni, e la presente E viva, e il suon di lei. Così fra questa Immensità s'annega il pensier mio: E il naufragar m'è dolce in questo mare.

Translation:

The infinite

Always to me beloved was this lonely hillside And the hedgerow creeping over and always hiding The distances, the horizon's furthest reaches. But as I sit and gaze, there is an endless Space still beyond, there is a more than mortal Silence spread out to the last depth of peace, Which in my thought I shape until my heart Scarcely can hide a fear. And as the wind Comes through the copses sighing to my ears, The infinite silence and the passing voice I must compare: remembering the seasons, Quiet in dead eternity, and the present, Living and sounding still. And into this Immensity my thought sinks ever drowning, And it is sweet to shipwreck in such a sea.

Translation credits: http://www.solearabiantree.net/namingofparts/infinite.php

I chose 'L'infinito' because it was one of my favorite poems in high school and because it reminds me of my Italian professor to whom I owe much. Giacomo Leopardi is also one of the most important Italian poet of the 19th century. I found the poem among my high school notes.

[for-d-win]

Monday of the 28th Week in Ordinary Time | 16 October 2023

In an article I ready this morning, sicknesses that we have today like hypertension and diabetes are caused most likely by 3 factors:

1. Environment,

2. Lifestyle, and

3. Genetics.

Kaya nga, to be honest po, but not wishing it to happen soon, napapatanong po ako kung magkaka-high blood po ako kasi both of my parents have it. I have no miss. The chances of this gene passing me out is very slim.

At the beginning, we thought it was only my mom who had it. But one afternoon, my father - because he was fond of drinking spirits - his senses became numb, he did not notice that his nape or batok was in pain already, he did not notice that he was suffering high-blood already. In an instant, because of the hypertension, a vein erupted in his braind causing him to suffer stroke and have half of his body paralyzed.

And pondering on this family experience of ours, if only my father had listened to us before, this catastrophe could have been avoided.

My dear brothers and sisters, let us not wait for any catastrophe to happen before we turn our hearts to Jesus.

We heard in our Gospel today that people were seeking SIGNS from God. And the same is true even today most especially when we are having a dillemma in choosing between two really good things.

We ask for signs either to guide us in weighing our options or we ask for signs to validate our primal decision. But our Lord Jesus Christ is clear - "This generation is an evil generation; it seeks a sign, but no sign will be given it, except the sign of Jonah.

No sign will be given to us except the sign of Jonah - if Jonah caused the Ninevites to convert their hearts and turn to Yahweh - the same will be the role of the Son of Man, of Jesus in our lives.

Jesus will be the sign to guide us in all our ways. How?

Simple, when faced with uncertainties, doubts, or questions, look at the sign of the Cross. And you will see there a man, not a dead man, but a man who offered his life for His beloved.

That is the sign that will guide us - a constant reminder to choose that option which will allow us to offer ourselves to others.

If Jonah became a sign for the Ninevites to repent and believe in God, may Jesus become a sign as well for us how to offer our lives to others. Piliin natin yung desisyon na mas makapagbibigay at mas makapag-aalay tayo ng sarili sa iba.

I don't know if I already shared this with you but one of my kuyas in the seminary once told me, "Aldwin, tandaan mo ito - kung nasaan ang hirap, naroon si Hesus."

Amen.

Year I Readings:

Romans 1: 16-25

Luke 11: 29-32

[sparviero44]

Charles Bronson

Charles Bronson,

the "death enforcer" died 20 years ago

Childhood in the mine, the name "Soviet" and the burp that started a career, everything you didn't know about the most famous icon with the grim look of cinema

Origins

Charles Dennis Buchinsky was born on November 3, 1921 in Ehrenfeld, Pennsylvania, to parents who immigrated from Lithuania and was the eleventh of fifteen children, all of whom grew up in extreme poverty. In early childhood, Charles did not speak English, but he had to catch up quickly

Early fatigue

When Charles was ten, his father died and the boy followed in his footsteps by getting a job in the mine, like many of his peers, risking his life every day for about a dollar a week. Not too surprising that at that age the future stone face of American cinema was already a smoker.

War

After becoming the first of the Buchinsky family to graduate, in 1943 Charles enlisted in the United States Army and fought in World War II as a pilot in twenty-five aerial missions.

The name

At the beginning of his film career, Buchinsky had to stop for a moment to think about his own name. In the 1950s Senator Joe McCarthy launched a hunt for the alleged Communist who massacred intellectuals and artists across the country on charges of treason and collusion with the Soviet Union. Charles' Lithuanian surname might have made him an easy target, so the aspiring actor took on the all-American name of Bronson.

The first role

For his film debut in 1951's "Commander Johnny" Bronson resorted to a particular skill that no other of the suitors for the role of him had: that of burping on command.

European success

Before becoming an icon of genre cinema in America with "Death Wish" in 1974, Charles had difficulty breaking through in Hollywood, but by the late 1960s he was already a beloved face in Europe, thanks to western films such as “The Guns of San Sebastian” by Henri Verneuil and “Once Upon a Time in the West” by Sergio Leone.

Phobias

As a probable result of a childhood spent underground, Bronson suffered from claustrophobia, but he also had a constant fear of germs and infections, which perfectly explained his notorious aversion to handshakes.

Relations

In 1949 Bronson married colleague Harriet Tendler, with whom he had two children, Suzanne and Tony. The couple divorced in 1965 and three years later the actor returned to the altar with actress Jill Ireland, with whom he remained until her death in 1990 and with whom he had two more daughters, Zuleika and Katarina. Charles' third marriage was in 1998 to Kim Weeks.

The death

Charles Bronson died on August 30, 2003 at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles after a long hospital stay. The actor had been in failing health since the late 1990s, when he was hospitalized for hip surgery. In the following years, he was also diagnosed with lung cancer and Alzheimer's. His grave is in Brownsville Cemetery in the town of West Windsor, Vermont.

Charles Bronson,

il “giustiziere della notte” moriva 20 anni fa

L’infanzia in miniera, il nome “sovietico” e il rutto che avviò una carriera, tutto quello che non sapevate sull’icona dallo sguardo torvo più famoso del cinema

Origini

Charles Dennis Buchinsky è nato il 3 novembre 1921 a Ehrenfeld in Pennsylvania, da genitori immigrati dalla Lituania e fu l’undicesimo di quindici figli, tutti cresciuti in povertà estrema. Nella prima infanzia, Charles non parlava inglese, ma dovette mettersi in pari alla svelta

Fatica precoce

Quando Charles aveva dieci anni il padre morì e il bambino seguì le sue orme ottenendo un lavoro in miniera, come molti coetanei, rischiando la vita ogni giorno per circa un dollaro a settimana. Non sorprende troppo che a quell’età il futuro volto di pietra del cinema americano fosse già un fumatore.

La guerra

Dopo essere diventato il primo della famiglia Buchinsky a prendere il diploma, nel 1943 Charles si arruolò nell’esercito degli Stati Uniti e combatté nella Seconda Guerra Mondiale come pilota in venticinque missioni aeree.

Il nome

All’inizio della sua carriera cinematografica, Buchinsky dovette fermarsi un attimo a pensare al proprio nome. Negli anni ’50 il senatore Joe McCarthy dette il via a una caccia al presunto comunista che fece strage tra gli intellettuali e gli artisti di tutto il paese con l’accusa di tradimento e collusione con l’Unione Sovietica. Il cognome lituano di Charles avrebbe potuto farne un facile bersaglio, così l’aspirante attore prese il nome tutto americano di Bronson.

Il primo ruolo

Per il suo debutto cinematografico in “Il comandante Johnny” del 1951 Bronson ricorse a una particolare abilità che nessun altro dei pretendenti al ruolo aveva: quella di ruttare a comando.

Successo europeo

Prima di diventare un’icona del cinema di genere in America con “Il giustiziere della notte” del 1974, Charles ebbe difficoltà a sfondare a Hollywood, ma già dalla fine degli anni ’60 fu un volto amatissimo in Europa, grazie a film western come “I cannoni di San Sebastian” di Henri Verneuil e “C’era una volta il West” di Sergio Leone.

Fobie

Come probabile risultato di un’infanzia passata sotto terra Bronson soffrì di claustrofobia, ma ebbe anche un terrore continuo di germi e infezioni, il che spiegava perfettamente la sua nota repulsione per le stette di mano.

Relazioni

Nel 1949 Bronson sposò la collega Harriet Tendler, con la quale ebbe due figli, Suzanne e Tony. La coppia divorziò nel 1965 e tre anni dopo l’attore tornò all’altare con l’attrice Jill Ireland, con la quale rimase fino alla sua morte nel 1990 e con la quale ebbe altre due figlie, Zuleika e Katarina. Il terzo matrimonio di Charles fu nel 1998 con Kim Weeks.

La morte

Charles Bronson morì il 30 agosto 2003 al Cedars-Sinai Medical Center di Los Angeles dopo una lunga degenza. L’attore era ormai di salute cagionevole dalla fine degli anni ’90, quando fu ricoverato per un’operazione all’anca. Negli anni successivi gli furono diagnosticati anche un tumore ai polmoni e l’Alzheimer. La sua tomba si trova al cimitero di Brownsville nella cittadina di West Windsor, Vermont.

[cgtrrs]

FIRST TIME TO SHARE THE WORD OF GOD!!!

Isaiah 60:22

"When the right time comes, I, The Lord will make it happen."

This verse reminds me that all things are worth the wait.

Lahat naman po tayo ay may mga bagay na hinihintay at ipinagdadasal. Amen.

Minsan, matagal. Madalas, nakakainip. Pero kung alam mo at pinanghahawakan mo ang pangako ng Panginoon. Waiting in your season will never hard for you. Kasi alam mo na darating ang pinagdadasal mo sa tamang timing niya kung ipag kakaloob niya sayo. Minsan, kailangan mo lang manalangin, maghintay at magtiwala sa kanya.

Ngayon umaga po, i have 3 reminders po regarding on this verse na ibabahagi sa inyo why waiting on in God's Timing is very important in our life.

Pray, Wait and Trust!!!!

1. PRAY!

Paano at kailan po ba tayo nagdadasal?

Pag may kailangan lang kay Lord?

Pag may sakit ka?

Pag may problema ka?

Pag malungkot at depress ka?

Philippians 4:6

Don't worry about anything, instead pray about everything.

Sometimes, Lord always allowed things to happened. Yung tipong sobrang hirap na hirap ka na at wala ka ng magiging option kundi magtiwala na lang sa kanya. Ipagkatiwala mo na lang yung bagay na hindi mo na kayang kontrolin. Rest in Him and God do the rest.

Ipanalangin mo lang yung mga bagay na gusto mo, yung dinidisire ng puso mo. Wag kang tumigil, wag mong sukuan. Wala mang bayad magdasal, pero may sukli. Hindi man masuklian ng Lord ang dasal mo through answered prayer but He will bless you more na higit pa sa inexepect mo.

Minsan pa, may mga request tayo na nalilimutan na natin pero si Lord never nya nakakalimutan yun. He's looking for a perfect timing for the things you've prayed for.

Kaya ipagdasal mo pa din, kahit na imposible.

2. WAIT!

What do you do while you’re in your own season of waiting?

May mga matagal ka na bang ipinagdadasal na hanggang ngayon hindi pa din dumadating at parang gusto mo ng sumuko?

Find comfort in the best Bible verses on waiting and walk along side beloved characters of the Bible who experienced long seasons of waiting.

In this case, you’re not alone in your waiting.

David waited 15 years to be king.

Moses waited 40 years to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. He fled Egypt and wasn’t called back to lead his people until he was in his 80s.

Sarah waited 25 years for her appointed child, Isaac. So long, that she took matters into her own hands and had her husband sleep with her handmaid Hagar to give her a son.

Rebekah waited 20 years to give birth to Jacob and Esau.

Ilan lang ito sa character sa Bible na naghintay ng breaktrough sa buhay nila. Katulad natin, naghintay din sila. Hindi man natin alam kung kailan ito darating lagi mo lang sana tandaan na GOD IS FAITHFUL to his promises.

kasi si Lord hindi ka nya bibiguin. Hindi man eksakto sa plano mo yung nangyari or yung dumating, pero sure ako mas maganda yung plano nya para sayo.

Sabi din sa verse John 14:13-14

And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.

Most of us, didn't realize that Jesus will do what we ask but NOT RIGHT NOW.

Minsan pag gusto natin, gusto natin makukuha na agad agad which is mali pala.

We must learn to wait his right timing. Kasi may mga bagay na hindi agad agad binibigay ni Lord kasi hindi pa oras. Darating pa sa point na bibigyan ka nya ng trials sa buhay para maging mas prepared ka na once na binigay sayo ni Lord yung bagay na hinihiling mo. It takes times. Hindi basta basta.

Hindi natin alam ang tamang timing ni Lord. Matagal man ito dumating, rest assure that His timing is always perfect.

3. TRUST!

Kaya mo pa din ba magtiwala kay Lord kahit hindi mo na magets minsan yung nangyayari sa buhay mo?

Can you still obey and seek Him kahit na wala ka ng makita rason para sumunod at magtiwala sa kanya?

I know there are times na nararamdaman mo yung hirap at yung bigat. Yung moment na parang worth it pa ba na maramdaman mo yun, napapatanong ka pa nga minsan ng "deserve ko ba itong nararanasan ko." Kadalasan pa, hindi mo matanggap na ganito kahirap yung kailangan pagdaanan na proseso.

Pero sabi sa verse

Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways submit to Him and he will make your paths straight.

We need to fully trust the Lord with all of our heart. Kahit na minsan, hindi mo na makita yung dahilan kung bakit kailangan mo pa magtiwala sa kanya.

Hindi mo dapat ibase sa nararansan mo ngayon ang plano sayo ng Panginoon. Minsan talaga kailangan mong dumaan sa ganyang proseso. Hindi dahil sa gusto kang pahirapan ng Lord, pero para ihanda ka nya sa mas magandang plano nya sayo.

Everytime na humaharap ka sa matinding pagsubok, piliin mo lang na tignan sa magandang perspective yung problema na kinakaharap mo. Diyan tinetest ni Lord kung gaano ka faithful sa kanya, sa mga pangako niya sayo.

Tignan mo lang lagi yung perspective sayo ng Panginoon. Hindi sa perspective mo.

Sabi nga sa verse "lean not in your own understanding" hindi mo pa maiintindihan sa ngayon kung bakit ka may kinakaharap ng trials but in His time you will understand why. Just surrender it to the Lord at si Lord na ang bahala sa paths na tatahakin mo.

Just pray, wait and trust the Lord with all of your heart. And the things that you pray and wait for will fall into the perfect time and place. 🙌

15 Sept 2023 - Friday

[deathshallbenomore]

most beloved person on my dash

sono al secondo anno di giuri e i miei voti stanno volando in uno strapiombo, non è che avresti qualche consiglio/metodo di studio da consigliarmi?? sono alla disperazione...

grazie di cuore in anticipo 🫶

amikett intanto un abbraccione <3<3 spero che riesca a uscire da questo periodo difficile

non so quanto possano esserti utili i miei 2 cents ma proviamoci sotto SEGUIMI

purtroppo il metodo di studio è personale: ormai è una frase fatta à la “non ci sono più le mezze stagioni”, ma ciò non la rende meno vera, perché si tratta di un modo di organizzare il proprio studio che tendenzialmente si consolida, anche evolvendo quando necessario, nel corso di anni. per esempio a me non è MAI piaciuto ripetere (e infatti lo facevo solo quando strettamente necessario), mentre ho sempre preferito scrivere e riscrivere le cose - eppure gli esami orali (e, prima ancora, le interrogazioni) sono sempre andati bene. voilà

detto ciò ti consiglierei di organizzare lo studio in maniera più sistematica possibile e di andare per gradi, tipo così: lettura 1 + sottolineatura senza sforzarti di immagazzinare tutto; lettura 2 + ulteriore sottolineatura dove ti segni le cose importanti; se necessario lettura 3 dove ti segni le cose veramente fondamentali. e via dicendo, nessuno ti vieta di arrivare alla lettura 12. nel mentre, appunti a margine, post it riassuntivi ecc possono aiutare. finora siamo rimasti alla fonte-libro. stessa procedura con eventuali appunti (eventualmente sbobinati - anche l’attività di riscrittura può aiutare ad apprendere i concetti) e slide.

qui poi si crea un bivio perché c’è chi in questa fase ne sa abbastanza da mettersi a ripetere: non so come si proceda da lì. io non ripetevo quasi mai ma preferivo farmi delle mie schede che riassumessero temi/questioni importanti. alle volte facevo anche degli schemini che contenessero, per parole chiave, tutto il capitolo/argomento (a seconda), integrando, in questa fase grafomane, con quanto recepito da appunti, slide e materiali.

se noti, non ho fatto riassunti: il riassunto del libro non mi sembra fondamentale; qualora lo fosse, perché magari si tratta di un manualone, farei una lettura del libro, il riassunto durante la rilettura e poi ripartirei dalla lettura 1 del riassunto + sottolineatura e via così. passare dal libro è super importante comunque

a questo punto dovresti avere un bel malloppo di appunti/schemi/approfondimenti essenziali sia per la loro importanza, sia perché distillano i contenuti principali di tutto quello che hai studiato: poi chiaro, se vuoi la spiegazione te la vai a recuperare sul manuale, ma in teoria tutta questa stratificazione di fasi di lettura, annotazione e rielaborazione dovrebbe aver funzionato

importantissimo in tutto ciò darsi delle tempistiche giuste e proporzionate, scandendo la quantità di lavoro da fare giorno per giorno. questa è bella: siccome c’è sempre dell’auto-sabotaggio, [lo faccio ancora] quando ho tanto lavoro da fare preferisco farmi un programma che giorno per giorno risulta troppo ambizioso, ma con uno scarto strategico rispetto alla deadline. tipo (numeri a caso ma per dire): devo leggere 300 pagine > mi do tre giorni > se lo faccio tanto meglio, ma ad ogni modo devo averlo fatto entro 5 giorni, che sarebbe magari più realistico. così da non abbattermi se non riesco a stare nei tre giorni, ma rimanendo tassativamente nei 5. e se invece riesco, posso procedere con le prossime fasi del lavoro ed essere anche un po’ in anticipo sulla tabella di marcia. ma questo è solo un trick mentale per allontanare lo sconforto eh, mica un miracolo

io sono arrivata alla fine dei miei studi con questo metodo, che però è strettamente il mio e può essere che non funzioni con altri. spero che anche solo qualche spunto possa tornarti utile, purtroppo il segreto della svolta miracolosa non c’è

ancora un abbraccione, e tante buone cose <3 <3