#its so hard to become a ballerina

[starpunkssgalaxy]

you already know, a little short but its wtv

- Ben has a bunch of weird shirts, yk those ones that are like “I got my lobotomy done at Claire’s!” Aiden bought him one as a joke but Ben thought it was hilarious and got more

- if the group even makes it to adulthood i see aiden as a drag racer or something, he’d get a kick out of the thrill of it

- can you even imagine when they all have to get jobs? ash’s first job would be some kind of customer service and on rough shifts she just goes in the back to scream then come back out like “☺️ what can i do for you?” she quit that job and got a quieter one

- i could definitely see ash working at a library or something though, she gets to listen to music and stock shelves with books and barely interact with anyone? dream come true

- taylor and tyler are lifeguard material for sure, they would love working at the pool/waterpark

- logan once ripped a mannequins arm off in a store after jokingly shaking it and got so scared he hid it in the men’s bathroom

- ash loves old animated movies. the last unicorn, secrets of nimh, the black cauldron, arthur and the invisibles, she just has a collection of these kinds of dvds that are borderline nightmare fuel

- taylor is such an art girly idc, especially with coloring and i dont mean little kid coloring books but those adult insanely detailed ones and she can color and shade them beautifully

- in summertime taylor loves drawing on the sidewalk with chalk she just has such an eye for color

- aiden on the other hand is a doodler at heart, he and taylor will sometimes draw/color in class together

[martian-astro10]

D9/ Navamsa chart observations - Part 5

Moon in 1st house gives a spouse who is emotionally expressive, they can also be very moody. If you're attracted to men, then this can also mean that your husband might be a huge mama's boy, so marry someone whose mom likes you. With this placement, if you manage to maintain a good bond with your MIL then you'll have almost no problems in your married life. Your spouse can be prone to jealousy as well.

Sun in the 5th house gives you an extroverted spouse, I feel like this works the best when the person who has it, has a really high self esteem, because if not, you can be jealous of the attention that your spouse gets. You can also feel as if you're not good enough for them.

Mercury in the 4th House can mean that your spouse will be working as an advisor. They may also come from a family where education is given a lot of importance (I know a few people with this placement and their spouse's family was super adamant about them completing their master's before marriage, this is true for both men and women). If you're an academically intelligent person then your in-laws would be more than happy to help you establish your own business, I have noticed this to be true in a lot of cases.

Venus in the 5th house.....can give you a spouse who may be a little too obsessed with themselves. I used to think this was a good placement but then I met a lot of people who have this and their spouses always downplay their achievements and play the victim in social situations. I know a couple where both of them have this and they constantly talk about things that the other has done wrong and it's like a competition of who is sadder, it makes me soooo uncomfortable. One good thing is that, your children are gonna be SUPER creative.

Mars in the 11th House is great in regards to finances, your spouse knows how to earn AND save money, and even though they may like to live a luxurious life, they're well aware of the limitations. They may also have friends in high places and be good at climbing the social ladder. One negative of this is, that they can be TOO focused on earning money, but if Jupiter and Venus are well placed then you have nothing to worry about.

Jupiter in the 3rd house can give you a jolly spouse, they can also be the youngest in their family. They may be really close to their family and after marriage, they would like to live close to them. Your family will treat your spouse as their own child. You know those couples where a person's family ends up becoming closer to their spouse than them, yeah, this is what happens when you have Jupiter in 3rd. You guys may also travel a lot together. I think this placement is really cute.

Saturn in the 2nd house gives you an ambitious spouse, very hard working and tough love type person. They may earn a lot of money but refuse to spend it, OR they refuse to spend money on themselves but have no problem spending it on you. It depends on other factors. ( I know a woman with this, and her husband is so fucking rich but doesn't get new clothes for her, and doesn't buy anything for her, I feel so bad ��, Its giving "ballerina farm") BUT you can also get a spouse who is like "here's my credit card, buy whatever you want"

Rahu in 4th is a strong indicator of moving abroad after marriage, I know people who were unable to get a student visa, work visa and then they got married and were able to settle abroad. This also shows that your MIL may be very involved in your married life, whether for good or bad depends on several other factors.

Ketu in the 5th house gives a spouse who won't be that interested in raising kids. They may also be a little emotionally detached, and can believe in traditional gender roles.

I was thinking of not putting this observation, but then.... precaution is better than cure, so...90% of the female celebrities who have been cheated on by their husbands have Jupiter in Gemini/ Aquarius in d9. So if you have this, be very very picky about who you marry, this is for everyone, but especially for those who have this.

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[star-eyed-angels]

The Masked Ballerina

Mafia!Yunho x ballerina!reader

angst, light fluff 6k

TW: mentions of fighting, abuse, violence, swearing, weapons. As usual, please let me know if I missed something.

Please read at your own discretion.

Where Yunho's search for excitement leads him to the Ballet.

AN: Heavily inspired by the Ice On My Teeth MV. In my mind this exists in the same universe as my Mafia!Hongjoong fic. The chess lore goes hard in this one. Enjoy lovelies 🤍

Also in case anyone cares, the song reader dances to is Masquerade Suite: Maskarad at about 1:18 is when Yunho starts tapping and 1:23 is when he sees their face

MASTERLIST

It’s very rare that Yunho goes out alone. Normally he travels with his guards, a new rule put in place after the Wooyoung incident. He understands its another layer of protection in case someone decides to get a little too close. especially if one of their enemies decides to put a hit out on him. Which of course has happened more times than he can count, but his guards don’t let anyone get within talking distance. It's always kind of fun to him. Watching some dumb soldier try to charge at him. Part of Yunho wishes his guards would just let them through. That way he could have a little fun. Just the thought makes his hands twitch. God is he aching for a good fight. But he knows that would never happen. They would never allow it. It’s their sole duty to protect him. One of their eight bosses who are far too precious to lose. 

Yunho sighs at the thought. His breath coming out in front of him in the cold night air. He knows it's silly to want to get into a bit of trouble. With the power he holds he should be excited at the people who bow before him. But he can't help but want something more. A change of pace. Like tonight and his new habit of sneaking out once he knows the others are busy or sleeping. It started on a whim, his restlessness driving him over the edge. It was normally pretty bad, but this night he swore if he didn’t do something he would go insane. He found himself creeping down the hallway, waiting for just the right moment when he knew the guards would step away before making a dash to the street. He spent the next few hours wandering the city. The solitude was refreshing, not having anyone hovering over him. While it gave him a little rush the first few weeks , the thrill has already started to fade. His little nights out becoming something too close to a routine. 

He’s done his best to spice it up a bit, trying to find different routes. But with legs as long as his, there’s only so much he can do before he’s seen it all. The more he dwells on it, the worse he starts to feel. He tugs the hood of his sweater farther over his head, huffing in annoyance. With his mood slowly souring, he thinks it’s best to run back home. He finds himself turning towards the dark alley. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he gravitates towards the shadows. He’s always been his skill, hiding in the shadows until he strikes. Of course nowadays he’s more of a boss, giving people his orders. And while it’s nice, can anyone really blame him for missing the action? I mean he’d even be happy to even do a simple hit. Give him a rookie task, hell he’ll take anything at this point. He realizes he sounds a bit like an addict. But God would it kill to have just a bit of excitement in his life? 

He turns to walk into the alley. He's so distracted he doesn't pay attention to the figure hiding in the shadows. 

“Hold it.” a voice calls out.

He’s pinned swiftly against a wall. A small breath knocked out of him, as he stumbles into it.

Yunho looks down to see a gun pointed at his chest. He’s so caught off guard it takes him a second to register what he’s looking at. His eyes trail up the arm holding the gun, finding a masked figure in front of him. At Least a head shorter than him and clearly in way over their head. 

He looks up at the sky, a baffled smile finding its way onto his face.

This isn’t what I meant.

If Yunho didn’t know any better he’d think he’s in a comedy movie. One where he’s the bud of all the jokes. 

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you,”

Ah yes the tiny thief. 

Yunho looks back down, the person digging the gun into his chest. He only blinks in response.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” they snap, “Just give me your money and no one has to get hurt.”

Yunho grabs the hand holding the gun, nudging it out of the way. 

“I don’t have any money. Now if you’ll excuse me-” he starts to say, but is swiftly cut off.

“What? Are you stupid, I said-”

Yunho rolls his eyes, any other night he’d probably entertain the idea of a brawl. But tonight he’s tired and just wants to be back home. This person clearly either doesn’t know what they’re getting themselves into. He supposes it’s the plain clothes he chose to wear out that make him somewhat unrecognizable. That and the fact that he doesn’t have his usual entourage hanging around him. 

Before they can get another word out he grips their arm, raising the gun up to the sky. He tugs the thief towards him, forcing them to stumble into his chest. They gasp in shock, grip loosening on the gun with the movement. Yunho pulls it away with ease, disarming it and dropping the remaining bullet in a single breath.

“What the fuck,” the masked figure says, clearly bewildered.

They look up, staring wide eyed up at him. It’s only then that Yunho takes notice of their eyes. One a normal color. And the other a stark contrast. Gray in color, mirroring the dark clouds above the pair. The snow continues to fall around the two, silence filling the air. It's in this brief moment that he’s able to really look at them. In the small window of the ski mask he sees the bruises around their eye, the skin clearly swollen and discolored with a black eye. It's easy enough to guess that a person must have given it to them, he’s seen enough beatings to know. As bad as he feels, he doesn’t have the energy for this. 

“Look. It’s been a long day. I’m tired,” he starts softly. 

Yunho calmly lowers their arm, dropping the gun into their open palm. He takes a step backwards, de-escalating the situation. 

“I’m just trying to go home,” 

The thief looks down at the gun in their hand briefly. They glance back up at him, eyes now teary. 

Yunho gives them a tight lipped smile, gently letting them go. He walks past them, the thief, turns only able to watch in shocked silence. Yunho only makes it a few steps away before he feels the need to stop. He can’t explain it, but there’s a nagging tug he feels in his mind. 

He turns to face the thief, who stands there silently, still watching him. They somehow look smaller like this, vulnerable, defeated. He thinks back to the bruising he saw underneath the mask. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know something is more is going on than just a petty crime. 

“For what it’s worth, I hope whatever it is you’re going through gets better,” he says sincerely. 

Despite the actions of the masked figure, he understands what it’s like. Desperation is an old friend of his. A friend that led him down an uncertain path, that thankfully ended in his favor. But he knows it isn't that way for everyone. He gives them one last smile, hoping it conveys more than what his words would.

“Have a good night”. 

With that he turns around continuing to walk down the alley. The thief continues to watch him go, watching him disappear into the cold night.

Yunho’s walks don’t last another week. He’d been able to squeeze in two more days of walking before he’d given up. Far too bored. The short-lived adventure was nice while it lasted. But again he finds himself looking for something else, something outside of his normal routine. 

That's how he finds himself squished into a small seat, front row to a ballet Jongho had been begging to see. Something very common for their household. He’d only tagged along because Seonghwa had to miss it, a last minute meeting with Hongjoong and another group.

And while this isn’t his usual thing, he will admit the show is quite good. To his right, San is clearly not as impressed, He’s only become more restless as the first hour passed by. Now practically squirming in his seat. He leans forward in his seat, glancing around at the others.

“Do we have to sit through this whole thing?” San asks, doing a poor job at whispering. 

“Shhh,” Jongho says from his left side. 

“Is it at least almost over?” he prods.

“Shhh!” Jongho shushes, louder than the first time. 

“But it's boring,” he says, having given up on whispering all together. 

Jongho leans forward in his own seat, shooting daggers at San. 

“It’s not boring, you just don’t know how to appreciate art,” he snaps. He gives one last glare before turning his attention back to the stage. Mingi snickers from his seat on San’s right. 

San pouts, sulking back into his seat. Yunho can’t help but smile at the exchange. He nudges his shoulder, leaning closer to him. 

“Lighten up, it’s not that bad. I’m sure you can find some part of it to enjoy,” Yunho whispers. Mingi grins leaning over as well. 

“The dancers are quite pretty," he says, nodding towards the stage.

Yunho rolls his eyes as San perks up at the mention of the dancers. It’s like he’s just noticed their existence after the past hour. 

“Not what I meant, but to each their own I guess,” he chuckles quietly.

San pays him no mind. Now hyper focused on the performance, or performers, in front of him. 

Yunho watches the dancers, enjoying how easily their movements flow with the music. He recalls the dream his teenage self had of dancing. He was quite good at it too. He even had a scholarship waiting for him, hell he’d all been packing to leave for school. But alas life doesn’t turn out the way it does in movies, now does it? 

A series of hiccups and stumbling led him to where he is now. One eighth of the biggest family in the country. A rook in a set so carefully crafted, that nothing could stand in its way. Never in his life did he think he’d end up here. But when he glances on either side of him, seeing his brothers makes him think that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Despite the performance in front of him, he finds his mind wandering, still longing for something new. Anything really. He knows he sounds ungrateful, bratty even. But goddamn would it be nice for a sliver of excitement. 

Fate is funny with her timing as per usual. Clearly having enough of Yunho’s whining she’s intending to smack Yunho right in the face with his desires.

At that moment the dancers step forward right to the edge of the stage. Bodies dipping into a bow with the sway of the music. The costumes glint with the stage lights, drawing Yunho’s attention back to the present. 

Yunho ignores the low whistles undoubtedly from San and MIngi. He does his best to refocus on the performance. He taps his fingers along to the music, counting the beats of the dance in his head. 

It truly is comical the way the way the music builds, unknowingly leading Yunho to his fate. 

The dancers look up at the next beat and Yunho comes face to face with the person in front of him. A ballerina with an eye color that wouldn’t shock anyone, if it weren’t for the other resembling dark storm clouds in the sky. A set of eyes that he’s only seen once, but he could never forget. Yunho feels his heart skip a beat, a small smile tugging at his lips at the memory.

Now this is exciting.

Yunho also takes notice that the bruising is nowhere in sight. Aside for some light swelling, it’s practically invisible. He presumes it’s whatever makeup and other styling that’s required for the show. The dancer takes no notice of Yunho, clearly engulfed in the performance. In three beats the dancer is off, prancing to the other end of the stage. Yunho’s eyes now glued to them. A moth to a flame, a spark. 

Yunho continues to watch, taking notice of the way they glide. As if they were a wind up toy, made only to dance across the stage. The costume only adds to the image. While Yunho knows each costume is made to fit like a glove for every performer, this one is different. For this ballerina it doesn’t appear to be made, but to simply be a part of them. Everything about the way they bring the performance to life looks so effortless. This clearly suits them, in his opinion. 

The performance ends in a flourish, the audience erupting into a deafening applause. The dancers gather on stage, taking their final bows. Yunho glances on either side of him. Jongho no doubt will stop the conductor and offer his appreciation. San and MIngi both speak in hushed whispers, already planning their approach with whatever dancer that's caught their eye. But Yunho only has eyes for one dancer. He easily slips away from the others, off to meet his masked ballerina. 

“That bastard, that’s what he did to you?” Minji asks, turning your face in her hands gently. 

When you’d removed your makeup she’d all but elbowed her way through the others leaving for the night. She’d all but dragged you into her own dressing room, a murderous look in her eye as she scanned your face. After a bit of fussing, you reluctantly tell her about your interaction with your director. How after a bit of back and forth he’d swung his fist, leaving you with a swollen eye. if looks could kill, you’d swear Mr.Hak would be dead if he were in the room with the way Minji glares. You’d done your best to hide it from her, knowing she’d react this way. 

You grab her hands, pulling them away from you. 

“I’ll be fine, it’s nothing a little makeup can’t fix,” you say calmly.

She makes a face immediately, a lecture forming on the tip of her tongue.

“I know what you’re going to say. But you know I can’t leave. Not yet at least.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean you let him do this to you either y/n,” she says bitterly. 

“It was my fault, I kept pushing it and-” you don’t get to finish, Minji cutting you off.

“Like hell it was! I don’t give a fuck how long he’s been in charge, Hak has no right to be doing this to anyone,” she fumed, face growing red with each word. 

"Minji. I promise I’m okay,” You say soothingly. She sighs, taking a few calming breaths. 

“At Least let me give you something. I don’t have much, but hopefully the money will help you out,” she says, starting to walk towards her bag. You grimace, the thought of taking from her when she’s struggling just as much as you makes you feel sick. 

“You will do no such thing,” you say. You walk over to her, stopping her from looking through it.

“But-”

“I’ll find a way to make it work. You know I always do,” you say, giving her a small smile. Minji contemplates, before giving in.

“Fine, but please tell me if you need help. And I don’t care who he thinks he is, you say the word and I’ll kick his ass myself,” She says. 

That gets you to laugh, rolling your eyes. 

When you first started, you'd learned rather quickly that Minji was hot-headed. Fierce in a way that you weren’t. You think perhaps that is why she befriended you so quickly, sensing you’d need a backbone of a friend. Minji was like an older sister. Someone who wanted the best for you, even if her way of showing it could be a little over the top. But you loved her regardless. 

“Thank you Minji, really,” you say, pulling her into a hug. She hugs you back, holding you close. 

“Okay, well I’m heading out hun,” she says, letting you go. She slings her bag over her shoulder.  

“Get home safe,” you say, opening the door for her. She flips the lights off, leading you back out into the hallway. 

“You too. Don't stay here too long,” she says, giving you a pointed look. 

“I won't,” you say.

You walk her until you reach the door to your dressing room. She stops, turning to give you one final hug. With one last squeeze, you let her go. She gives you a final wave, before turning and leaving. 

When she’s out of sight, you sigh, shoulders dropping. You’re quiet as you open the door to your dressing room. You flick on one of the smaller switches, the lights of your vanity illuminating the room. 

You walk over, dropping yourself into the seat unceremoniously. You glance at yourself in the mirror, looking over the black eye for what feels like the hundredth time. The memory of that night, playing in your head like a loop. When you’d first graduated from your arts program you’d been so excited to start your career. It had been hell to make it through. Your heterochromia made it a nightmare to be a dancer. Every audition and casting left you feeling defeated. Each director or choreographer turning you away due to your condition. You’d had to claw your way to performing on a stage, fighting tooth and nail to just be given a chance. It was exhausting but it was worth it. Or at least you thought it was. 

Now as you stare at yourself in the mirror, the version that stares back at you is almost unrecognizable. How could you have ended up here? This couldn’t possibly be what life had in store for you, could it? Suffering for the sake of doing what you love? You could already see the way this vicious cycle was eating away at you. Cracking your soul into pieces bit by bit. You needed to get out. But only a miracle could save you at this point. 

You shake your head, doing your best to shake the thoughts with it. You lean down, tugging the shoes off your feet, and the tights along with them. You groan as you sit back up, muscles still sore from the performance. With a small grunt, you take the last bit of your outfit off, throwing the top to one of the chairs across the room. This late in the night you know you’re one of the only people left in the building, leaving no reason for you to rush to get dressed. You pull your robe down from the corner of the vanity, sliding it onto your shoulders. 

“That was a lovely performance,” a voice calls out, making you jump out of your skin.

You whip around clutching your robe closed as tightly as possible. 

A figure emerges from the shadows slowly, coming to stand a few feet in front of you. 

In the dimly lit room, you can make out the features of a man. He easily towers over you, dressed in all black like a shadow come to life. 

You recognize him as one of the men you tried to rob a few nights back. It takes you a second, with his appearance being a stark contrast to the man who stumbled upon you in the alleyway. Here he looks put together, black suit, hair pushed back, and expensive watch gleaming on his wrist. It's then you take notice of the insignia on his coat. The A against his heart is simple. A circle surrounding it, stitched in a darker shade of black. But the sight still makes your blood run cold. 

Holy shit, you’d tried to rob a member of Ateez, the most powerful family in the country. As if your luck couldn’t get any worse. Part of you wants to laugh at the entire situation, but the fear you feel keeps you rooted in place, scrambling for any escape.

“I didn’t think ballerinas were the type for armed robbery,” he hums thoughtfully. 

You subtly shift your hand to the side of your chair, fingers trembling as you reach under the armrest. 

“This is a private dressing room, you need to leave,” you say, doing your best to appear calm. 

The man hums, reaching into his pocket. He pulls his hand out, holding it in front of him. 

“Looking for this?” he asks.

Your heart sinks at the sight of your knife in his hand. He twirls it with ease, flicking it open to insect the blade. You press your hands into your thighs, swallowing nervously. 

“Please, I’m sorry. I don’t want any trouble,” your voice trembles as you stare up at him. He turns his attention back to you, taking in your fearful demeanor. 

He smiles, making a show of closing the knife slowly. He carefully sets the knife down on the shelf beside him, being slow in his movements. You eye it suspiciously, glancing between him and the knife.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk,” he says calmly.

You nod slowly, still eyeing him warily. He nods back, still keeping his distance. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asks. 

Of course you know. Everyone in the country knows his name along with the other seven. The rook who stands in front of you is not to be messed with. 

“Jeong Yunho,” you answer.

The way you say his name sends a bit of a thrill through him. He likes the ways it rolls off your lips. 

“Hmm so you do know my name,” he says tilting his head to the side.

You can only give him a small nod. He begins to walk around the room examining the interior as he goes. You can’t help but keep your eyes trained on him. While he promised not to hurt you, you’d be stupid not to be on guard.

“Did you know who I was the other night?” he prods. 

“No,” you answer quickly. You were desperate, but not desperate enough to mess with him. You curse your past self for being so oblivious. He chuckles, the sounds sending a shiver down your spine. 

“It takes guts to step to a man twice your size like that,” he says, recalling your stupidity. He turns his sharp gaze towards you, further pinning you to your spot. 

“But considering I can see the way you're shaking, I think there’s something else,” he says.

“What were you looking for when you came at me?” 

“Nothing, I- I wasn’t looking for anything I swear,” you say a little too quickly. 

Yunho glances at your swollen eye, letting out a sigh. He knows you’re lying, but he can’t blame you. There was no doubt he was a man to be feared, but right now he needed you to trust him. 

“Look. I can tell you’re smart. So I know you wouldn’t have just decided to mug a stranger for fun,” he says, coming to stand in front of you once again. 

“So what is it that you need, sweetheart?” He says softly. 

You contemplate answering him. If he were here to hurt you, he would have done it already. He clearly wasn’t the type of man to waste his time. Despite your better judgement you choose to trust him. 

“Money. I needed money,” you say quietly.

He tilts his head thoughtfully. The movement kind of reminds you of a puppy. If you weren’t partly terrified, you’d think it looks kinda cute in a way. 

“You don't make enough, dancing?” he asks curiously. 

“No, not really,” you say, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. 

“And the black eye, is that part of it?”

You freeze, looking at him in fear. Instinctively you wrap your arms around the edges of your robe, tucking it tightly against you. He notices the way you curl in on yourself. His gaze softens, offering you a sympathetic smile. 

“I’m not here to judge you,” he says softly. 

“They’re from the director,” you confess, quietly. He nods in understanding. He hesitates clearly wanting to say more. After a moment he clears his throat.  

“May I?” he asks, nodding towards your face. 

You think for a moment, before giving him a small nod.

He’s careful as he steps forward, doing his best not to startle you. He leans down, one hand coming to lean against the back of your chair. You feel goosebumps rise against your skin, as he lowers himself to be eye level with you. His other grabs your face gently, tilting your face from one side to the other. He’s delicate with the way he handles you. Strong hand gentle as he holds your chin with his fingers.

“He did this to you?” He asks finally, warm voice fanning across your face. 

“Yes,” you answer, scared to speak too loudly. You feel your skin grow warm the longer he scans over your face. His cologne invades your sense with the proximity, it feels intoxicating in a way you can’t describe. 

His face hardens, a look of anger flashing across his features. It scares you for a moment. But something about the look makes you want to soothe him.

“I asked for more after our last performance. He usually never aims for the face. I just wouldn’t drop it,” you explain, thinking back to a few nights ago. 

Yunho is quiet, eyes scanning over the marks carefully. A fierce need to protect you burning inside him. He can’t explain it, but there’s something drawing him to you.There’s something about you he just can’t shake. A pull so strong, he doesn’t think he could fight it if he tried. Though he doesn’t think he’d want to anyways. He also takes the time to really look at you, finding you even more attractive up close. He’s already seen your eyes, but seeing them up close and personal, he can’t help but find them more alluring. After another moment of admiring you, he lets your face go, still keeping his proximity. 

“Is it just you? Or are there others?” he asks.

“A few. Most of them quit before the first season is up. But some of us can’t,” you answer.

He only nods, clearly thinking something over. The gears turn in his head quickly, looking for a solution to your problems. After a moment, you see a twinkle appear in his eye. A mischievous twinkle that excites you, if you're honest with yourself.

“What’s your name?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Y/n,” you say softly.

“Y/n”, he repeats. 

The way your name drips from his lips, sends a jolt through you. 

“Will you let me help you, Sweetheart?” he asks. 

You don’t know what it is about him, but you find yourself trusting him. How crazy it is to trust a man like him. He could hurt you, with a snap of his fingers you’d be destroyed in an instant. But he could also be your miracle. You suppose you have nothing more to lose at this point.

You give him another nod, this one determined. 

“Good,” 

“Come with me,” he says, offering his hand out to you. 

Going against every rational part of your brain, you take it. His hand is warm in yours. Something about it feels right, his larger hand holding yours ever so gently. Yunho thinks the same as he looks down at you. He’s so used to holding weapons, things that cause pain. But your hand fits so perfectly in his. Like it’s natural, like it was made to be there. He gently pulls you up from your seat, ready to take his new found excitement into action. 

“Come in,” a voice barks out from the door in front of you. 

You grimace, glancing at the men behind you. Yunho stands with three of the other members of Ateez, who you were introduced to. After getting dressed, Yunho led you to the others, who all looked at you with curious gazes. From there he had explained his crazy plan to all of you. Or at least you thought it was crazy. The other three didn’t even bat an eye. Jongho even looked excited, beaming at the plan laid before him. 

Yunho looks down at you as you give him a small nod to enter. You open the door, walking inside. The other three follow you in. Mr Hak, your company director doesn’t bother looking up. He continues going through the work in front of him, only pausing to take another drag of his cigarette. The door clicks shut behind the last member. 

“Who is it?” he barks out again.

“It’s y/n, sir,” you say, eyeing the men behind you again. 

Your boss scoffs, rolling his eyes at the sound of your voice. 

“This shit again. Look I already told you, you work for me got that? Everything you make comes to me. I own you. Now get out of my office before I-” he starts, voice booming in the small office.

He finally looks up, mid rant, doing a double take at the scene before him. His face goes pale at the sight of you and the four men that tower behind you. You don’t blame him. The sight of them had you shaking where you stood. 

“Gentlemen, what a surprise. To-” he pauses, having enough sense to extinguish the cigarette.

He stumbles out of his chair, hastily coming to the front of his desk. He clears his throat as he does it, clumsily dropping into a deep bow.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks nervously. 

They take over easily, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Mr Hak, is it?” Yunho starts, eyeing the man before him.

“We just wanted to stop by. And bring our praises for the show,” he says adding a touch of sweetness to his voice. 

“Yes, a spectacular performance indeed,” Jongho says, clapping his hands together. 

“Thank you, we do our best,” Mr Hak says, sounding far too prideful. The response makes you roll your eyes. 

Jongho hums, eyes sharp as he watches Mr. Hak. 

“Of course. And that’s why we’re glad to be buying it off of you,” he says casually. 

You do your best to hide the smug grin at the way your boss reacts. 

“Buying?” he asks, clearly confused.

“Yes the theater, the shows, the performers. All of it. 

“While I appreciate the offer, it's not for sale,” he chuckles. 

“Nonsense,” San says, stepping forward. 

He stalks towards Mr. Hak’s desk. Confidence leaking through each of his strides. 

“I think you’ll find we’ve arranged a rather gracious deal, isn’t that right Mingi?” he states, glancing over at the taller member. Mingi hums in agreement, coming to stand next to San. Similar to Yunho, he towers over everyone with ease. The closer he gets, the more Mr. Hak shrinks in his spot. With the four in front of him he’s easily surrounded. Like an animal cornered. 

“We have, but if you feel as though it needs some rearranging we could always have Hongjoong Hyung stop by. I’m sure he can squeeze in a few moments with his busy schedule,” his voice calm, but the implication clear. 

You swear you see your boss’ heart stop as his eyes go wide. He lets out a nervous laugh, quickly waving his hands in front of him. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he says quickly. 

Smart choice, you think to yourself. Even an asshole like him wouldn’t be stupid enough to go against what the men behind you ask. Especially Kim Hongjoong of all people. There was no dealing with Kim Hongjoong. You’d heard the stories of those he visited, none had ever lived to tell of their exchange. That thought sends a shiver of fear through you. 

“Good, then we have a deal,” Jongho says, clearly ending the conversation. 

“Our men will escort you out,” he says, snapping his fingers. The door opens once again. Two guards walk in calmly, looking to the trio for orders. 

“See to it that Mr. Hak collects all his belongings,” San orders, no longer smiling. 

“He should have no need to return to this building after tonight,” Yunho adds, throwing a pointed look at your ex-boss.  

The guards nod, moving towards your Mr.Hak quickly. With orders in place, the others begin to file out of the room. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Jongho calls out over his shoulder, continuing to walk out without a second glance. 

Yunho sets his hand on your shoulder, nodding towards the door. You follow him and the others out of the room. You glance back to see Mr. Hak warily eyeing the guards. You continue watching until the door to the office closes behind you. 

The members continue walking down out into the foyer of the theater, .leading you outside

“So you’re really buying the theater?,” you ask, breaking the silence. 

Jongho shugs, glancing up at the bright sign above the building. He has a soft glance in his eye as he eyes the theater appreciatively.

“I practically come here every other week, it was bound to happen eventually,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Will you close it?,” you ask warily.

“Of course not,” he chuckles. 

“And the other performers?,” you probe, Minji crossing your mind along with all the others, 

“They’re jobs are safe, they will have the choice to stay or seek employment elsewhere. But no one will be forced to leave, you have our word,” Yunho says, soothing your worries. 

You nod, letting out a shaky exhale. For the first time in months things were looking up for you. You were free of Mr. Hak, and you could continue to do what you love without being miserable. 

“I can’t possibly thank you enough,” you say, emotion creeping into your voice. 

You bow to them, taking a moment to wipe at the tears building in your eyes. The four smile at you, being unable to find you anything but adorable. 

“We're not as scary as we look,” San says, throwing his arm around you in a friendly manner.  “Well except maybe Mingi,” he says, glancing at the taller man. Mingi glares, reaching over to swat at him. San ducks out of the way, moving between Yunho and Jongho. 

The action causes you to giggle. Maybe they were right about not being as scary as they look. Something about their presence felt comforting. Part of you wished you could get to know them a little more.  

“So I guess this is goodbye then?” you ask somewhat disappointed.

“Well we do own the theater now, so we’ll be seeing you around,” Yunho says a little too quickly. You don’t notice the way his ears grow red at his mini outburst. The others do. Each of them giving each other knowing glances as they slowly make their way further down the street. Yunho mentally facepalms, knowing he’s never going to hear the end of this later. The next moment makes it worth it however.  

You laugh, the twinkling sound making Yunho’s heart race in his chest. God was he screwed. 

“I suppose that’s true,” you hum in agreement, a knowing look in your eyes. Something about seeing the tall man bush had the butterflies fluttering even harder in your stomach. 

“So I’ll see you around?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I look forward to it,” you say, smiling brightly. With that you turn and walk down the street. You offer goodbyes to the others, before making your way across the street, an extra skip in your step. Yunho watches you go, content to watch you leave. Something telling him the adrenaline he feels is here to stay.

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift - Snap

Summary: Your temper may be your down fall.

Warnings: DUBCON / NONCON, MDNI, aged up characters, NSFW, explicit content, kidnapping, rough, humiliation, alien/human relationship, swearing, power imbalance, yandered qualities, posessive behavior, dom/sub dynamics, punishment, etc.

A/N: Happy New Years, my lovelies ;)

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Little Gift Masterlist

For lack of a better, less vulgar term, pussy whipped is how you would describe Neteyam. From the first time he sheathed himself inside your tight warmth there has been seemingly nothing else on his mind but a repeat. And while your lips spew endless complaints and cursed remarks, the honey between your legs is all the encouragement he requires. 

It's frustrating. Draining. Yet an inconvenience that is hard to voice properly when your legs are trembling around his waist and synapsis going off like fireworks until the post orgasmic haze drowns you in its wake. There is nothing left but the caress of his skin. The hardness that fills you to the brim. Even the taste of his seed coated along your tongue and throat. 

He has become your inescapable vice

There are benefits, however. Because when you're lying there with nothing but static bliss lining your consciousness, Neteyam swarms in that bliss too. And it’s only taken two days to identify that as the opportune time to sway his decisions.

Neteyam will never let you go. That is a reality you have begrudgingly come to acknowledge. 

But there are ways to coerce him into giving you certain privileges. A few sweet words with his cock still sunk inside of your heat and you had secured a new, more modest, loincloth and more importantly, your precious music box. This new sway was slowly making your life in the Olo’eyktan’s grip more comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable. 

When eclipse’s glow glimmers through the marui walls and a warm large frame curls around your form as you sleepily watch the ballerina twirl, it's hard to keep that small smile from your lips. Difficult to yearn for the nights you spent alone in your twin sized bed with only the cold metal walls for company. And even when the Olo’eyktan’s deep voice rumbles that it’s time for sleep and a hand reaches over to shut the box, you can’t stop yourself from following his command as skilled fingers run through your hair. 

You’re losing the battle but that won’t keep you from fighting to win the war. 

Snuggling in Neteyam’s grip may have its perks but there are still constant annoyances that strengthen your disdain for this new life. The biggest of which being his younger brother. The same male that had not only watched you struggled upon the tarmac of Bridgehead but happily participated in your humiliation without a second thought. Perhaps your hatred would not run so deep if Lo’ak had at least shown an ounce of shame for his actions but his demeanor proves to be quite the contrary. 

You haven’t spoken to him since the RDA’s departure, nor do you want to, but Lo’ak is always there. In the midst of bustled village life his eyes pin on you. With Neteyam is dragging you along the forest floor with a firm grip on your wrist, Lo’ak’s lips curve into that same cocky smirk. 

Avoidance is the strategy you cling to so when Neteyam wakes to inform you of your babysitter for the day, panic springs forward quickly. To your dismay even the sweetest words and filthiest of touches does not sway Neteyam from his decision. Lo’ak has once again become your default supervisor after the stunt you had pulled with Spider. 

Pussy whipped he may be but even Neteyam reaches his limit after too much whining and begging. A firm promise of punishment if you continue is what it takes to finally stop your coercion. 

So here you sit. Defeated and silent in Lo’ak’s marui, counting down the hours until Neteyam returns. 

Lo’ak, who tends to a simple meal over the flames, periodically burns his attention into the back of your head. Fighting the urge to squirm under the awkward circumstances you opt to distract yourself by observing his humble abode. It’s different from Neteyam’s. Where the Olo’eyktan must have everything in its rightful place and organized at all times, Lo’ak is at ease with some clutter and a relaxed space instead. The only items that have a strict placement are the guns hung across his wall. No doubt high enough to be out of your reach. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” 

You don’t respond, motionlessly faced away. 

“Silence forevermore to punish me for my actions?” Lo’ak lets out a mocking sigh of sadness. “However will I survive?” 

It takes effort to halt your teeth from grinding. Na’vi senses are much more responsive to sound than your own and you’ll be damned if Lo’ak gets even an inkling of how much he is bothering you. Like a statue, you remain still and silent. 

“Although I’m not sure how good of a consequence it is. It may be nice having some peace from your constant whining.” 

Despite your better judgment you sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. As expected, Lo’ak is on his haunches over the fire with an ease only he can muster under the tension in the room. His tail curls casually along the floor but his ears are perked, awaiting a response. 

This is only meant to get a rise out of you. It seems bugging you is one of his favorite past times so bugged you shall not be. 

“Or maybe this is my reward instead, for bringing you to such bliss.” He muses and heat rises like an inferno along your skin. The vein along your forehead becomes more pronounced. “What can I say? I believe in the importance of a woman’s pleasure.” 

Rage springs you to your feet in an instant, turning on your heel to glower at him. 

“I was in trouble and you took that remote and-”

“And helped you enjoy a moment that would have otherwise been depressing for you. Something I wouldn’t have to have done if you hadn’t decided to come watch the torment yourself.” He quips back, brows raised as he holds your stare. 

Small hands clenched into fists, you can’t stop your feet from stomping towards him. 

“You are an absolute idiot!” 

“Maybe so but even an idiot like me can see right through you.” 

“Is that so? And what wise insight does the mighty prince have on me?” You sneer, watching his tail perk up at the sound. 

“I saw the way you looked at me.” 

You can feel your expression falter as your mouth runs dry. 

“What?”

“I saw the way your eyes wandered and hungrily took in every inch of me. Even better, I could smell the shift in your scent, the stronger perfume it took on.” It’s his own eyes now that dilate and pin you into place. Much like his brother, Lo’ak has a knack for sending a devilish shiver just from the fixation of those golden orbs. 

“You’re crazy.” Swallowing the saliva pooling along your tongue, you take extra care to keep yourself from stuttering. Especially when Lo’ak slowly takes a crouched step forward. Stubbornness keeps your feet planted. 

“For a moment I thought the guards would be the only thing keeping you back from crawling to my feet.”

“Fucking delusional asshole you-”

“That’s not a criticism, tawtute.” Lo’ak’s holds his hands up in surrender. “Neither is it a complaint.” He shrugs, carefully bringing him one step closer. Suddenly you are regretting not fighting Neteyam on taking your breathing serum this morning because that glass mask would at least provide some illusion of protecting your personal space. “But it is hypocritical to chew me out for playing with that remote when you were drooling over me the entire time. Don’t you think?”

Perhaps being around the Na’vi has caused you to pick up more of their habits than you’ve realized because at those words you can feel your own lips curling back, ready to bare your blunt teeth in a vicious snarl. Keeping a cool composure is seeming less and less enticing with every word that comes out of Lo’ak’s twisted lips. 

“I think Neteyam will have quite a few things to say when I tell him his younger brother has been lurking too close for comfort.” You grit out between clenched teeth. Lo’ak doesn’t meet your anger with his own. In fact, it is the glimmer of mischief remaining in his features that has your rage reaching new levels. It’s difficult to control your temper when those pearly whites are flashing back at you with glee. 

“Well,” One last step and you can feel the brush of his breath. “Lucky for you when Neteyam is in a good mood he has been known to share.” 

It’s difficult to say which actions set you off. Perhaps it’s his insinuation or maybe the way Lo’ak’s eyes bare into you without a flicker of shame. But whatever it is, one thing is for certain, you wish for nothing more than to wipe that grin off of his face. To make him hurt.

Those wishes, however, are what has your body moving on instinct instead of reason. Because before you can blink your hands are wrapped around the one vulnerability Lo’ak has, the only way to make him hurt. His kuru. And the next, your teeth are viciously sinking into that thick braid. 

That grin is whipped away and with it comes a shout that echoes through the village. 

It’s too late to go back now. Once the adrenaline, anger, and temporary triumph at seeing Lo’ak crumple has dissipated you are left to stew in the reality of your situation. Neteyam is going to whip your ass. And with your hands tied to a stump outside of the healer’s tent while Lo’ak is treated there is very little you can do to stop that. 

More likely than not, Neteyam already knows what has occurred. A few Na’vi had flown off mere seconds after Lo’ak had entered the tent and you would bet your right hand they were looking to report to the Olo’eyktan. So he knows.

Just because he knows the story, however, does not mean there isn’t a chance to tell it from your perspective. Preferably before a certain Omatikaya prince spins it his way. So as your palms become sweaty and the minutes pass by, your eyes roam the forest like a guard dog on watch. They search for the very first glimpse you can catch of Neteyam, your first lines of defense locked and loaded. 

When Neteyam’s ikran lands you hastily sit up on your knees. He walks with a purpose, long legs carrying him towards the tent at a pace you would never be able to match even without being tied in place. 

“Neteyam!” You call for him, tugging at the bonds. Golden eyes flicker your way but his expression remains blank. “He was taunting me!” Perhaps not the best defense at a time like this but the lack of Neteyam’s attention has you blurting out the first thing to come to mind. “He was saying all of these awful-”

“Stay here, pet.” He says evenly as if you have any other choice with your wrists tightly binding you into place. And that’s all you receive before he is ducking into the tent. 

Time ticks by at a taunting pace. Every minute that those voices rumble from the tent in a foreign tongue is one minute more that you are left to hypothesize what punishment awaits you. You’ve acted out before, escape attempts, attitude, starving yourself, but nothing like this. Besides the consequences of tricking Spider you’ve never gone out of your way to hurt someone else. All of those past episodes have been solely focused on running away. 

Neteyam has been very clear on how he feels about such disobedience, but this infraction is new territory. Territory you should have never let yourself fall into when you’ve seen how creative Neteyam can be. Dread sinks low and deep as you sit there staring at the canopy above. 

There’s no guessing what tale Lo’ak is weaving inside of that tent but you can only imagine that the other Na’vi exiting to give them privacy is a bad sign. Their voices are kept low, not that it matters when they remain speaking in the Na’vi tongue. Every now and then you hear your name thrown into the mix. At some point it starts to feel intentional, yet another way to have your anxiety spiking.

You’re sorry.

You really are.

Sorry that your own temper has landed you into this mess and sorry that all the odds are now stacked against you. Is that not enough? You’ve been a dutiful ‘pet’ for Neteyam these past few days, despite your own objections. You haven’t tried to run away in almost a week now and you’ve even taken a break from ripping apart the bow Neteyam ties around your neck. 

And perhaps, if Neteyam knew better than to leave you with his arrogant little brother there would be no injury in the first place. One Sully male is enough to deal with, but two is where you draw the line. Two sets of golden eyes that see right through you. Two nearly identical smirks that fall into place the second you are trapped into feeling your body’s natural needs. 

Lashing out at Lo’ak may put you in deep water with Neteyam, but maybe if you’re lucky it may also keep his brother off your back for a while. Give you a moment to breathe away from that penetrating gaze. 

Neteyam’s footsteps interrupt your train of thought. Scrambling to sit up again you rush to get a few words out, but he is faster. The Olo’eyktan unsheathes his knife, cuts your bonds and calmly takes a hold of your arm.

“Teyam,”

“Time for dinner, pet.” Pulling you gently onto your feet your neck cranes to get a better look at his expression. Nothing but a cool exterior to observe and while the absence of red hot anger should be relieving it has a countering chilling effect instead. 

That aloof composure remains throughout dinner even as your explanation spews out messily. Neteyam doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. He simply eats.

And that detached presence sends goosebumps along your arms. 

You never thought you would come to this point, but you start to wish instead for him to lash out. Perhaps sink you under his larger frame and give you that scolding look that still holds a shadow of amusement. You would brace yourself for a night of pleasure and pain mixed into one and then it would be over by morning. But this…

The way he’s casually sipping at his cup of pxir feels so jarring you can barely cope. Anything is better than trying to navigate the unknown. You start to wonder if he has even heard a word you’ve said. 

“You need to eat.” That deep voice has you perking up immediately. 

“I’m not very hungry.” Not with your stomach doing somersaults in anticipation. However, Neteyam’s mask splits for a moment to give a knowing look that reminds you exactly what happened the last time you tried to starve yourself. Taking the hint and not wanting to dig your hole even deeper you quickly reach for a piece of fruit and plop it into your mouth.

Apparently it is not enough since the male reaches over with one arm and swiftly lifts you up onto his lap. 

“I can-” Another look. “Fine.” You relent, letting the Olo’eyktan feed you piece after piece by hand. 

Feeling his warmth pressed against your back is strangely comforting. You blame it on forced acclimation. Regardless, the silence is torture and your mind has already done enough of that on it’s own, thinking up every possible outcome that awaits you. 

“Are you even mad at me?” You blurt out. Neteyam’s hand pauses from reaching up to your lips with another piece of fruit. “I mean, am I in trouble?” 

“You are.” When that piece of fruit fits past your lips the tips of his fingers linger on your tongue a tad too long. Neteyam’s braids brush over your shoulder, colorful beads clanking together. 

“Okay so then, can we talk about the consequences?” The last thing in the world you wish to discuss but perhaps it’s too late to negotiate getting off scot free. You may as well strive to lessen the repercussions. “Because I am sorry, Teyam. Truly-”

“I’ve already decided on your punishment.” Not a sliver of cold malice or dark intent in his nonchalant tone. 

“Alright,” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Can you perhaps enlighten me on what that will be?” It’s a struggle to keep your voice even and calm. Is he drawing this out on purpose? What is the point? Push you into a panic attack?

“After dinner you are going to apologize.” 

“But Neteyam I am so-”

“To Lo’ak.” 

You spot said person across the fire. He chats warmly with friends and family nearby but there is a bandage woven into his braid just barely noticeable. You have blunt human teeth. He is sure to heal within a day or two with little discomfort. 

“Is there any alternative?” Neteyam's face swings down into view and your script changes immediately. “Yes, apologizing...yeah that,”You clear your throat. “That sounds very reasonable.” 

 The rest of dinner is spent trying to conceal your sour disposition as Neteyam traces teasing circles along your legs and inner thighs. It’s a confusing set of sensations and emotions that ultimately have your heart rate racketing higher steadily. There are times where you wish dinner to never end and others where you are chomping at the bit to get things over with. 

The most disturbing, however, is that voice in that back of your head saying this has all been too simple. Apologizing to Lo’ak will be by far one of the most humiliating things Neteyam has ever made you do but surely he has more in store for you after that. The eldest Sully son is too elaborate and thorough to let you off the hook so easily. 

Whatever Neteyam has brewing for you after this apology is sure to be something that will allow very little sleep tonight. 

Neteyam waits until the last embers of the fire have burned out. He warmly bids several Na’vi goodnight and well wishes and even volunteers to help clear away the dinner supplies. Lo’ak is nowhere in sight, although you can’t remember at what point he had left the scene. Still kept under the Olo’eyktan’s watchful eye from a distance you endure yet another round of drawn out waiting. 

For a moment you are tempted to hope that Neteyam has forgotten all about the apology. Or perhaps Lo’ak has somehow become preoccupied and his absence will be your saving grace. 

That hope is foolish and fleeting. You know better than to assume short memories when it comes to the Sully men. So when Neteyam reaches his hand down and you sheepishly take it, you prepare yourself for the long road ahead. 

Village life is dying from a simmer into a low hum as families tuck away into their marui. Only a few stragglers are dotted along the forest that Neteyam leads you through. The path is not one that you recognize, however it slowly becomes clear that the two of you are heading away from the village. It leaves an eerie feeling in your bones. 

Neteyam has promised to never allow harm to come your way but…you bit his brother today. Would that be a sufficient reason for him to lose patience with you all together? And if so, what would disposing of you entail? Facing the tip of a Na’vi knife or being set free into that dangerous den that is Pandora? 

Subconsciously, you tuck against his side for comfort. 

This is paranoia speaking. The predictable culmination of your worries and anxious thoughts to form a spiral you can tumble down. Recognizing this does not slow down the beat of your heart but it does help your mind grab on to the tangible facts. 

Just one simple apology then you can take on the rest afterwards. 

Away from the bustle of the village and deep settling fires, you can only depend on eclipse’s glow for visual. Which is why you hear Lo’ak before you spot him. He sets rippling waves along the river to your right, his silhouette just barely visible in the dim glow as he emerges calmly. Squinting your eyes, you can see him lazily running a hand through his braids, pushing them away from his face. 

“You actually showed up.” He calls, although you can’t quite tell if he is talking to you or Neteyam. Long, leisurely strides take him back onto shore. Proximity allows your eyes to become snagged on the trails that drops of water create along his sculpted torso all the way down to his thighs. 

“Don’t patronize. Oeyӓ tiyawn [my love] is nervous.” Neteyam replies and immediately you look up at him in silent betrayal. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t bother to veer his gaze away from his brother, instead just absentmindedly running a hand through your hair in comfort. No, to stroke you like a true pet. 

Perhaps the nature of this punishment is more psychological than physical after all. Humiliation is sure to be a dutiful reminder to behave. 

It sure feels that way when Neteyam settles a hand on your upper back to gently push you forward with an encouraging, “Go on, pet.” 

Lo’ak, still squeezing the water from his braids, takes a seat on a nearby stump. Legs spread and brows raised, he waits expectantly. The idea of clawing his eyes out looks all the more appealing with every passing second. At least then you would find a reprieve from that sparkling look of sinister mischief. The way the corner of his lips twitch as if fighting back a smirk makes you feel that much more on display, and that much more ready to resort to violence. 

“Little gift.” Neteyam calls in reminder, a steel edge starting to lace his patient tone. 

Gritting your teeth, you avert your gaze away from the male in front of you in hopes of finally forcing the words out. 

“I’m sorry.” Spoken between your teeth, it’s barely comprehensible. You don’t need to look at Lo’ak to feel the amusement rippling from him. No doubt the bastard is happily enjoying your struggle. 

“Speak up, tiyawn.” Neteyam coaxes, although both of you know there is no need. Na’vi hearing is easily sharp enough to pick up on what you’ve said. 

“I am sorry.” You breathe out on an exhale. “I shouldn’t have bit you.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut your brace for the imminent teasing. He is bound to make some snarky comment or quipping tease but that doesn’t mean you have to look at him while he does so. 

“Hm, that’s alright, tawtute [human]. We all get a little wound up at times.” Although upon peeking one eye open that lazy grin is in place, there is no other retort tacked at the end. And for a moment it seems that Lo’ak is not even bothered by what has happened. That only makes you more uneasy. 

“That’s my good girl.” The sensual praise brushes your shoulders, quickly making you realize how close Neteyam now kneels behind you. “Now give him a kiss.” 

You screech out of Neteyam’s embrace, flipping around to face him at breakneck speed. “What? No!”

That patient mask is still in place, although Neteyam lets out a small sigh. Surely this is a joke, a mean one that you wouldn’t put above either of them playing. You wait for Lo’ak’s laugh. Wait for Neteyam’s possessive reassurance that your lips only touch his. 

Neither come. 

“Don’t be difficult.” 

Lo’ak’s earlier claim echoes in your head. The same one that had tipped you right over the edge into biting him. 

“Neteyam’s been known to share.”

“No! No way. Forget it! Spank me, fuck me do whatever you want but I am not kissing him.” Face now inflamed into a bright red, you point an accusing finger back at the younger brother. Lo’ak bites back a smile, leaning back against the tree. 

When you attempt to stomp off in a dramatic exit, Neteyam easily scoops you back into place with one arm. A firm grip on your hips keeps you facing him. 

“You have options, pet, but not many.” That velvety voice lowers into a rough timber you’ve grown accustomed to. Always the first sign that you are stepping into dangerous territory. “You can apologize properly or we can look into taking away some special privileges you’ve seemed to have taken for granted.” 

One hairless brow raises and suddenly you know exactly what privilege he speaks of. 

You inhale sharply. Your music box. That damn music box that you’ve become so attached to that even the thought of him putting it back at Bridgehead makes you hold back a whimper. You never should have let him to know how deeply you care for the thing. Better yet, you never should have allowed yourself to become so dependent on a single object. 

However, there is no changing that now. Caught between a rock and a hard place your features soften into a pout. 

“Teyam pl-”

“I’m not interested in negotiations. Take your pick.” Although stern, his composure doesn’t hold the same dark glint it does when you’ve truly pushed him too far. Neteyam kneels there firm, but patient. Even his tail curls and swings leisurely along your thigh. 

He knows how this is going to play out. He knows the leverage he holds so there is no point in wrestling you into submission. You’re going to do it on your own, pout and all. More than anything you want to prove him wrong. Lift your chin, tell him to do his worst and stomp home without another glance at Lo’ak. 

But you don’t.

Instead you shuffle to turn back around at the speed of a sulking child. Arms crossed and glare blazing, you finally face the other brother reluctantly. That large hand spans across your upper back to give you a small push forward. Not willing to go down without a fight, you keep that screwed expression in place even as Lo’ak’s attention burns through you. 

Even when he leans forward from his sprawled position to rest those alien hands across his upper thighs and close some of the distance between you. Even when his tail suddenly tickles at your upper thigh with a softness that almost has you stumbling backwards in surprise. 

You can feel it falter, however. That burning anger struggles to overpower your ever raising nerves. So when you are finally standing between Lo’ak’s spread legs you rush to get the deed done before those nerves get the best of you, showing your cards for both males to see. 

Lifting onto your toes, you leave a peck on his cheek so fast that neither of you can comprehend it before you are turning back towards Neteyam. Lo’ak’s barely stifled laughter is met by a dark chuckle of the Olo’eyktan’s own. Although, the elder Sully tries to keep his amusement to a minimum as he spins you to face back around again. 

“A real kiss, tiyawn.” 

“I did what you asked and-” a fierce grip catches your chin, before you are met with the Olo’eyktan’s stern expression invading your space. With lips just mere inches away from your own, Neteyam’s clutch may as well be a chokehold with the way it dissipates the air from your lungs. 

It is times like these that you remember who exactly is your captor. He infuses your time together with occasional softness but there is no forgetting the true predator that lies beneath. He is not just any warrior. Neteyam is Toruk Makto’s firstborn, Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. The same clan that had run off everyone you knew from this planet. When glimpses of that man come forward, your tough facade cripples beneath him. 

“Now now, let’s not scare her too much. You said she’s nervous after all.” Lo’ak breaks the tense moment with a casual drawl. For once, you're grateful for his teasing. Less grateful however at the feel of his four fingered hands coming to rest on your hips to turn you around, the softness of his touch creating an inferno of sensation rippling through your body. “Unlike you, I promise not to bite.” 

His lips curl into a crooked smirk as his tail playfully swishes behind him. The bastard is enjoying this far too much, but you’re not sure which brother is worse to face at this moment. Lo’ak’s cocky dose of humiliation or Neteyam’s dangerous threats of retribution. It feels as if neither will leave you the same you were before tonight. 

A third hand clamps around the back of your neck, veerring you forward. And this time, you don’t wait to be told twice. 

Your lips softly brush against Lo’ak’s own. A part of you wonders if your trembling has reverberated even to your lips where he can feel. Lo’ak, however, is surprisingly gentle and slow as he follows your tentative kiss. It’s not the usual possessive claiming that leaves your head spinning and thighs clamping together. Nor are your soft lips put under torment of nipping teeth that love to tease. 

No, it’s gentle. Almost intimate. 

Utterly terrifying. 

A rough push at his shoulders releases you from that kiss. Your chest siezes in efforts to slow your breathing down and not let either see your body’s betrayal at that tantalizing kiss. Regardless, you know it won’t matter. If your scent isn’t already ripe with your arousal, surely your rapid heartbeat is enough to give you away. 

Neteyam’s chest rumbles against your back in a deep chuckle, Lo’ak’s own eyes lit with mischief connecting with his brother’s over your head. 

“See? Nothing to be afraid of.” Lo’ak coos, but there is a huskiness to his voice that raises the hair at the back of your neck. And then the soft brush of his fingers on your hips becomes claws that dig into the plush flesh and drag you forward. 

A squeak can barely rip from your throat before your lips are back on his again. This time, all semblance of innocent affection is lost. Lo’ak’s lips enrapture your own into a kiss that can only be described as filthy when his quick tongue swipes past your bottom lip and devours you whole. 

If you were to be told earlier that your day with Lo’ak would end with his tongue in your mouth not only would you have not believed them but the idea of it would have been disgusting. Surely you would have imagined a scene that would liken him more to the sleazy drunk men that had made moves on you during late nights at Bridgehead. Just another horny male to try sticking his dick where it isn’t wanted. 

And God, do you wish that were reality.

Because a horny douchebag is so much easier to handle than the incarnation of sinful temptation that ropes around you now. So much easier than trying not to preen against the ministrations of a skilled mouth and plump lips. So much easier than resisting the urge to run the tip of your own tongue along those pointed canines. 

Lo’ak may have a big mouth, but it seems that all of his talk of pleasuring women comes from actual experience. He knows which button to press, knows the perfect combination of soft and rough touches to make a female drown in his embrace. 

And drown you do as another talented mouth trails along your spine, teasing you with the soft brush of his lips until your body is practically begging for the next laid kiss against your skin. It’s an attack from both sides. Trapped between two ravenous Sully men until you are unable to peek out from their shadows. 

Neteyam’s large hands skate over every inch of your exposed, trembling, body while Lo’ak remains dedicated in his task of stealing the very air from your lungs. It comes on all too fast. While Neteyam is the master of taking your heated emotions and slowly making them blossom into unriddled desire, it seems that both of them together have that shift acting at the speed of an exploding bomb rather than a nurtured flower. So alarming that it has your mind reeling in its pathetic attempts to keep up. 

There is no mercy to be found from these towering aliens.

Even at the few points where Lo’ak lets you gasp for air, the hand that had become tangled in your hair finally letting off on the pressure, it’s only in favor of lapping his tongue over your constricting throat. 

“No marks.” Neteyam’s growled reminder barely processes through your already hazy brain. Even less so Lo’ak’s perturbed hiss before your lips are captured once more.

Scrabbling for what’s left of reason is a practice you are accustomed to when beneath the Olo’eyktan, pussy split on his cock, but never from something as simple as a heated make out session. But simple it is not, when two predators nip kiss and suck at your body as if savoring their well hunted meal. 

A breeze brushes past your entrance. Lo’ak chuckles when you break the kiss to look down and find that his brother has already discarded your loincloth. Your ankles cross on instinct, a mistake when the younger Sully tugs you forward and that position only makes you fall against his chest. 

“Mawey [be calm], pet.” Neteyam soothes, running a hand over your head. 

“But-”

Your protest is cut off when the Olo’eyktan suddenly replaces Lo’ak’s hands at your hips and lifts you up until you are settled onto the other male’s lap. They work together to wrestle your legs over each side of Lo’ak’s thighs. Thighs that then part to keep you spread and bared for them. 

“That’s a good girl.” You can’t even muster the strength it takes to act offended at Lo’ak’s condescending praise. There is barely enough time to grip his shoulders for stability before he is devouring you again. 

This has been well planned, that you are for certain of because as Lo’ak consumes you in a feral kiss meant to leave your lips ruby red and attention completely taken, Neteyam makes quick work of unthreading your complicated top. They work together like a well oiled machine. 

The Olo’eyktan lets out an appreciative groan, ears perking atop his head. He gives no warning before he is twisting around you to reach your right breast with his teeth. It digs into the plump flesh just beneath your pointed nipple, leaving behind an indent that is sure to be unmistakable. Lo’ak laughs against your lips when you accidentally chomp down on his bottom lip.

This bite is far more welcomed. 

Your treacherous pussy is wet enough to leave sticky arousal marking your inner thighs. There is nothing but the night’s breeze to caress your erect clit and entrance that is already clenching around nothing. So when the familiar brush of rough fingerprints with scars made from a bow’s strings circles around your dripping petals, you give a knee jerk reaction. 

Lo’ak swallows your moan only to react with his own when you claw into his hair for stability. Unfortunately the first piece you find just happens to be that thick braid. And while you were mere seconds away from finally having your begging clit played with, it’s the bite of a sharp sting that your sensitive sex is met with instead. Neteyam sends three spanks straight to your raised clit until your thighs are flexing in an attempt to snap close, a task impossible with Lo’ak’s own legs keeping you spread. 

Neck complaining with the strain, your head is yanked back and fingers disconnect when you are met with hard golden eyes. Lo’ak is either unbothered or knows better than to disturb his brother when in this state because his busies himself teasing and plucking at your nipples. 

“Did I say you could do that?”

“N-no.”

One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards expectantly. 

“No, Olo’eyktan. I’m sorry.” You quickly correct, voice catching when Lo’ak takes your left nipple between his teeth. 

Unshed tears gather in your eyes and you’re sure that the display of both submission and wrecked expression is enough to show that you meant Lo’ak no harm. Or at the very least you were in no state to do any damage, despite your desire otherwise. 

However, that is not enough. Apparently nowhere near what Neteyam needs from you, evident in the way he yanks you back and crashes your lips together. The tuff of his tail tickles your inner thigh as it wraps around your leg. There is no hope of keeping up with the fervency of Neteyam’s lips, teeth and tongue as he infuses every animalistic instinct into that kiss. It’s as if something has possessed him. 

You’ve seen Neteyam loosen the reins of his control. You’ve seen desire come to shine forth in the lustful actions he has succumbed to before, but he has always been in control. Calm, even as he has split you open on his cock time and time again. 

But this. 

You’ve never seen him like this, an utter slave to his instincts. 

“Get her ready.” The sharp demand Neteyam bites is not slow enough to allow you a single breath before he is diving back in. Your neck aches and thighs tremble at the awkward angle, but suddenly that angle is changing. 

Lo’ak easily throws a leg over each shoulder, lifting your lower body to his face while Neteyam keeps your upper body supported with a hand to your spine. The coordination leaves you spit roasted between the two of them, body dangling over the ground like a ragdoll. 

Neteyam is deaf to your silent pleas of being let down even as your clawing nails reach back to bite into his shoulders. What little threat they are when your weak nails won’t even be able to break skin. Just as weak as your dull teeth to Lo’ak’s queue. Painful perhaps, but nothing close to permanent damage. 

And it dawns upon you then, the same moment that Lo’ak’s tongue swipes playfully at your clit until you spasm. This isn’t about Lo’ak being hurt. Perhaps it never has been. Neteyam knows just as well as you that there is no real damage you could impose upon him.

No, this is about what you touched. What your teeth had sunk into when meanwhile your fingers have hardly ever ventured to explore his own. 

Another male’s queue. 

The neural chord associated with sacred mating among the Na’vi and not only had you been caught touching another’s, but your teeth had sunk into it. 

Finally released from his lips to let out a screeching moan, you crane to get another look at Neteyam’s handsome features. Reading him tonight is easier than it ever has been. The sharp lines created from a clenching jaw and eyes made of golden steel confirm your theory without doubt. Tonight isn’t about your pleasure, even as Lo’ak’s tongue licks a broad stripe from your entrance to clit. It isn’t even about an apology. 

Tonight is about proving a point. 

You wish to get ahead of what is to come, plead your case now that you understand the core issue better, but when your lips part all that comes out is a wrecked whine. Lo’ak pushes that first digit past your weeping entrance until it hits the first knuckle, and then the second. It’s nothing compared to that stretch that you have now become accustomed to performing but that never seems to stop you from feeling that exquisite burn every time. A true shock to the system.

With features set into stone, Neteyam slowly lowers you down so that your upper back rests upon his propped knee. This puts your lower body up higher than your upper as Lo’ak slurps at prods at the sensitive flesh between your thighs. A provocative display that Neteyam takes in calmly. He doesn’t look down as you squirm and whine atop his knee, just places one firm hand down over your bare chest to pin you into place. His thumb, however, does find its usual place swiping over the soft ribbon tied into a bow around your throat. 

“Fuck, she’s so tight.” Lo’ak exhales, your juices shining over his lips like a pretty sparkle of lip gloss. You try not to let that image stick in your head. No male has the right to look that beautiful after such depraved actions, especially someone as annoying as Lo’ak. “This little pussy can barely take a second finger.”

It does, however. A mortifying squelch sound created from your dripping core as you suck the second digit in. 

“My little pet knows how to stretch.” Neteyam purrs, eyes still watching between your legs as his knuckles pet over your flushed cheek. 

You gasp when Lo’ak curls his fingers and instantly finds that special spongy spot inside. Wrenching up from where you lay across the Olo’eyktan’s knee, you fight to get air back into your lungs properly. 

“Stop squirming.” Neteyam’s demand is accented with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, a sensation that only has you writhing more. 

“Is this a little too much for you, tawtute?” Lo’ak coos in a fake pout. “A few Na’vi fingers in this tiny cunt and you can’t even hold still like a good girl.” Those plump lips spread with your arousal pout as he tutts in mocking disapproval at you. 

If there was any hope of Neteyam protecting you from his brother’s teasing it is cut short the second his own dark laughter joins the mix. A blush spreads down from your cheeks to the very swell of your breasts. That heat only intensifies when the Olo’eyktan’s fingers brush over the area in awe, reminding you of how exposed you truly are between them. Every little reaction is a display for their amusement. 

“Come now, pet. Show Lo’ak how well your little demon pussy can take it.” 

“Tey..I-I…Teyam!” Whatever plea you had hoped to construct morphs into a drawn out moan of his name once Lo’ak wedges a third finger into your tight entrance. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t hide his pleasure at hearing you moan his name. Meanwhile you happen to catch the hint of annoyance Lo’ak shows at his older brother’s name raining from your lips when it is his fingers bringing you such pleasure. 

“Having fun, tiyawn?” Neteyam’s lips spread into a sinful display, sharp white teeth shining under the moonlight. The pads of Lo’ak’s fingers sensually rub at your inner walls, sending a tremor up your legs. “Of course you are. This is the attention you were begging for after all, isn’t it?”

You shake your head with a whine. That, however, only earns a sharp flick to your right nipple. 

This had never been your intention. Piss off Lo’ak, finally give him a peace of your mind? Absolutely. But being strung between these two Omatikaya warriors to be used as their amusing little slut had not been your vision. 

And yet….there is nothing else that can fill your mind, your body lighting up at every humiliating comment and sensual show of power exerted towards you. 

Lo’ak wiggles his fingers into a steady scissor motion. That burn has a whimper choking in your throat but it’s Neteyam that has your attention. That handsome face floats above you, the moonlight creating a false hallo atop his neat braids. Wriggling beneath such an exquisite creature has never felt so intoxicating. 

“Open.” As if spoken like a magic spell, your mouth hangs slack immediately. It’s worth the look of approval that carves into those magnetic features before he is slipping a thumb across your tongue. He taps your cheek in warning when you try to close your lips once more. 

A bead of saliva coats his thumb as he presses down on that wet muscle. Then, performing once more in their perfectly coordinated dance, Lo’ak’s presses his own thumb against your pulsing clit. 

The sound that rips from your throat is debauched, utterly inhuman. With Neteyam pressing down on your tongue there is no way to stifle it, so your whine rings true and free through the air. 

“Fuck, so pretty.” Lo’ak groans and you can’t be sure if he refers to your spew of moans or rather the sight of your drenched pussy clamping around his digits. Drool now travels past the corner of your lips. Just barely on the cusp of an orgasm. One more little push needed that you have no way of asking for. 

Neteyam chuckles when your eyes shoot open suddenly. There is a fourth intrusion, a fourth finger you are not accustomed to receiving. Confusion ripples through your features followed by another wave of bliss as Lo’ak sinks in the last finger. 

Sky Demon blood. 

Not the surprise you had accounted for. 

There is just enough common sense left to remember you need to ask for permission to come. Neteyam shows no mercy, keeping his thumb pressing your mouth open as you try to form pleas for release. 

“Have you earned it?” Neteyam asks.

A trick question. The correct answer may very well be the one that denies you an orgasm but answering otherwise could bring consequences that are already stacking at an alarming rate. 

Tears welling in your eyes, you manage to shake your head softly. 

“Of course not.” Neteyam sighs. His tail tickles at the sensitive flesh of your right side. “You haven’t been a good pet for me today, have you?”

The question is not rhetorical; you are silently informed when his thumb gives a few taps against your tongue. Sheepishly you nod and give out a gurgled apology. 

“She seems sorry.” Lo’ak pipes up. “Aren’t you, little demon?” Your back arches when he curls all four fingers against your inner walls and pressing down on your clit with his thumb. It urges the appropriate response, however, apologies flowing freely. 

“I think she wants to be a good girl now.” He adds and Neteyam studies your features to see if his brother’s assessment is correct.

“Then a good girl she will be.” 

That appears to be the cue Lo’ak had been waiting for. Those long blue fingers curl and rut up into your poor cunt vigorously all while drawing fast circles on your little pearl. The orgasm that rips through your body is explosive. Your legs strain and shake. Your mouth parts on its own into a cry even once Neteyam has removed his thumb. 

That pace continues until you are begging to have your overstimulated pussy left alone. Your head is stuffed full of cotton. Body buzzing so intensely in that afterglow you don’t register when Lo’ak finally draws his fingers out or how you become manhandled into a new position. The first sensation to make sense is a sudden kiss Lo’ak places on your lips before pulling away. 

You think that perhaps your punishment is over, but the younger Sully is setting himself back on that stump, eyes trained upon you intently. 

Neteyam has you sat on his lap, legs spread to bracket his muscular thighs and back pressed against his chest. Thick gollops of your pleasure run down your inner thighs to fall atop what you now realize is the Olo’eyktan’s uncovered cock. That bulbous tip now sprouting a bead of precum just barely jerks to tap your clit. 

Lo’ak is now back a few feet from where you and Neteyam are intertwined but he may as well be pressing a magnifying glass against your skin with the way his attention zeroes in on you. His own loincloth remains on but his right hand palms at the obvious bulge there. 

“What’s wrong, pet? Feeling too shy for an audience?” 

“Y-yes.” You mumble, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“Hm, that’s too bad because I’m especially inclined to show you off tonight.” 

It is only the arm cinched around your waist that keeps you from being impaled on his impressive length. Your nails create half moons in Neteyam’s forearm where you grip. 

“Now,” His voice darkens. “I am going to breed this slutty hole.” He gives your dripping pussy one gentle pat with his fingertips. “Going to fill it with my seed until it is properly wrecked. Lo’ak is going to watch. And you, what are you going to do?”

“Be g-good.”

“Close, little gift.” The head of his cock presses firmly against your pulsing entrance until it slips past. “You are going to give him a good show. Let him see exactly whose cum your tawtute cunt yearns for.”

Something close to awe ripples in Lo’ak’s expression as you are lowered down on the Olo’eyktan’s massive length, inch by inch. You try not to picture the crude presentation you must exhibit for his eyes as your stretch to accommodate Neteyam’s familiar shape. 

“Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” The wet gushing sounds that your cum and arousal make once you are finally lowered to the base has your eyes cinching shut. You hate how addicting this sensation is. Hate even more how eager you are to reach another climax, even eager to feel the warmth of the male’s seed blossom within you. 

“And why is that?”

The question doesn’t quite make sense. Whatever string of thoughts you had started knitting together fall to shambles when he begins lifting and lowering you up and down is cock in a steady pattern. 

Thank God, Neteyam decides to not make you answer, because your attention is already caught by Lo’ak sliding a hand beneath his loincloth. 

“Because I’m in charge, little gift. You are mine to use. Mine to love. Mine to share.”

You can feel every ridge and curve of him carve along your gummy walls. Etching a reminder of who owns you so thoroughly with every stroke. 

Lo’ak’s member curves along his stomach. Bioluminescent stars freckle over the sensitive skin. They disappear and reappear periodically from beneath his fist that grips and slides around his cock. 

“I decide who touches you. I decide who watches you.” Neteyam’s hips roll up just as you are dropped down to the base again. “And that means I also decide who you touch.”

Lo’ak’s teeth flash in a grin when he notices your intense gaze on him. It wipes away quickly when he interrupts himself with a rough groan and throws his head back in ecstasy. 

“Do you understand, pet?”

You’re not sure where your burst of confidence comes from. Perhaps it stems from Lo’ak whose hips buck up into his hands as spurt after spurt of his orgasm spray. Maybe it’s the deep roll of Neteyam’s hips that becomes frantic the more you squeeze around him. The idea that both brothers are about to find their peaks at the mere sight and feel of you is exhilarating. 

So instead of answering his question verbally, you instead shakily reach back to grab the Olo’eyktan’s kuru. Neteyam’s back goes ramrod straight, his thrusts becoming shallow. Then before you can change your mind, you swing the braid over your shoulder and push back the hair to properly examine those dancing tendrils. 

Neteyam’s head falls against your hair, voice dropping into the most sexy husk of breathing you have ever heard. And that’s all the encouragement you need before lowering the tendrils to wrap around your right pointed nipple. 

Pointed electricity spikes through every sensation. A zap of such pure bliss that it almost hurts. Neteyam counteracts this overstimulation with a deep moan and warm seed that bursts into your core just as you're spiraling over your own cliff. 

You don’t realize you’ve blacked out until voices slowly wobble into your consciousness. 

“Tie it back.” Neteyam instructs. It’s followed by a tickling sensation at your throat as the ribbon shifts. There is no energy left to spare on opening your eyes but you can feel cradling hands and hot water swimming around you. A hot springs then. 

“Perfect little thing,” comes Lo’ak’s voice next. 

And that is all you can decipher before blissful sleep enraptures you once more. 

Hope you enjoyed! Interaction means the world to me so please comment, reblog, or send me an ask with your thoughts<3

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[1for5]

perks of having a basketball player mom.

paige bueckers x reader

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your mom is a “cool mom”. she’s a very successful person. from being a basketball star in her high school to being scouted to uconn for her skills, and to being drafted the wnba.

she played with indiana fever, and stopped playing at 26, as she met your dad and had dreamt of a family. many people didn’t like her decision of stopping basketball, but as she will get better salary at a different field she’s also good in (marketing), and since she wanted a family, she didn’t care about all the negative comments.

she had a good career in basketball, but a woman can change her dreams. people should always be supportive of the goals women have, even if a woman wants to create a family. let women be happy!

2 years later, she had you. you grew up to be very different from your mom. you hated basketball, it’s not a sport where you excel. you excelled in ballet as all parents do, they placed you in a ballet class at the age of 3. you loved doing ballet ever since, and your parents supported you in every step you took.

as a shining ballerina, you’ve been studying in college at the julliard school. you started 2 years ago, and now in your junior year of college. you’ve been training hard to become a professional ballet dancer.

college has been really stressful for you, but luckily it was the last week of march, which is the start of spring break for you.

you book a flight to cleveland that week, as you’re parents are there to see your family friend. as a uconn star, your mom has been friends with uconn’s basketball coach—coach geno. coach geno has been your mom’s coach during her senior year in college, and has been family ever since. coach geno was your mom’s figuratively “cool uncle.”

you arrived at cleveland, and texted your parents that you’re on the way to your hotel. when you arrived, your parents were estatic to see you, asking you many details about your recent week.

after having a conversation, your parents invited you to eat dinner with your family friend. you said yes, and everyone started to get ready.

you and your parents headed to the restaurant, and saw coach geno at the entrance waiting for your family.

“its coach!” your mom said. “hey kiddo! glad you guys are here, glad to have you guys support our team.” coach geno shaked hands with you and your father. your mind began to think.. support? how..?

“how are you coach geno?” you asked, as your family and coach geno settle down on a table. “doing good! your parents haven’t told you this yet, but I’m actually here for a uconn final four game against iowa, and I’ve got tickets for you and your parents. you want to come?” coach geno explained.

so that’s the support he was talking about. iowa also rang a bell in your mind, many of your classmates in school are obsessed with an iowa player. caitlin clark? you think.

you haven’t really watched a basketball game for so long, but the basketball spirit is always fun. you answered a “yes” to coach geno. your parents, especially your mom, were very excited to come to the game. you all then had a good time eating lunch.

fast forward to the following day, which was game day. your mom wanted everyone to wear a uconn clothing. she gave you a “vintage” dark blue baby tee that has uconn at the front. you paired it with a white ruffled skirt and rubber shoes.

it was 9am, and geno was advicing your family to come at the basketball stadium by 10am as he wants the team to introduce your family to the team, especially your mom, since she was a uconn player.

you were doing your hair, a simple half ponytail, and your mom asked you and your dad if you were both ready to leave.

your dad hasn’t really gotten ready yet, and your family just decided to leave at 9:30am. this gave you more time to get your makeup done and prepare your belongings.

after getting ready, you and your parents travelled to the stadium. geno met your family at the front of the stadium, which was already packed with fans. people were also talking about your mom being there, many of the people trying to get a glimpse of a wnba star.

geno then guided you guys inside of the stadium, which had both iowa and uconn media teams getting ready for their interviews and commentaries. walking past them, you and your family made it to uconn’s designated locker room and waiting area.

you see uconn’s women’s basketball team, who were all very excited to meet your mom.

“you know who this is ladies, and with her are her family. that’s her husband and daughter” coach geno introduced you and your dad to the team as well.

everyone were saying their “hello”s, and after your mom having a small chit chat with the team, she and your dad were hungry.

“coach, there are many food stalls around the stadium right? im famished, ill eat first, ill come back after” your mom stated, fixing her belongings.

“yeah there’s a lot! no problem.” coach geno smiled. “hey y/n, you wanna come with us or stay here?” your mom asked. you were actually already talking to a member, nika, and was enjoying the conversation.

“can i stay here mom? i still feel full since i ate leftovers from last night.” you asked, your parents nod and told you to keep safe.

after your parents leave, the team got more chaotic as time passed by. you just continued chatting with nika.

“so, any hobbies?” nika asked, while offering you a small pack of doritos she got from a table. “well.. i would want to do ballet for a living.” you responded, accepting her snack offer.

“no way!!! do you do it as an extracurricular after school?” she said with an excited-and-suprised-at-once tone. “well, i study at julliard so, i do ballet for my studies basically.” you explained.

“you do ballet? that’s so cool! i cant even do a split!” kk butted in the conversation, with the others following.

everyone’s attention is now on you, all asking about how julliard works and your accomplishments. they were all just weirdly looking at your doritos, but you shrugged it off. they were probably all just craving it.

you then got to learn more about the team, how they were scouted, and their current training process and such. you loved everyone in the team.

kk is funny and kind, ice is sweet, aubrey is fun, nika is down to earth, and paige is friendly and sickeningly attractive.

those were just some of the team, and you were very enthusiastic to learn more about the others too.

“so, has your mom ever taught you basketball?” paige asked, her attractive voice and pretty face catching you off guard.

“oh uh, not really. her and dad play all the time though.. and i usually watch. not into basketball but i maybe know a thing or two.” you answered, your cheeks flushing.

“well that’s too bad, i wanted to see you hoop.” paige replied while spinning a basketball. kk then got it. “well i want to see paige do 10 pirouettes, you should teach her y/n.”

paige and y/n chuckled. “i would matic fail. y/n would not want to be friends with me anymore!” paige answered.

after about an hour of more chit chatting, it was now time for warm ups on the court. you were bidding your goodbyes and giving everyone a goodluck.

“i better see you shout chants y/n! ill wave at you when i see you!” paige said, tying her shoes. “bet you i will.” you smiled.

you then approached nika one again. “i will definitely shout whenever you score. goodluck nika!” you gave her a small hug.

“thank you y/n! had fun with you today! ill search you on instagram later. enjoy your doritos!” nika reciprocated your hug.

lastly, you approached coach geno, thanking him for letting you stay and told him goodluck. he thanked you back and gave you directions to the entrance of the stadium.

you then left the room, making your way to the entrance where your parents texted you to meet at. you then looked at the doritos once again, and saw a note.

you’re cute. can i take you out on a date?

if you would like to, don’t hesitate to text me

+01-NNN-NNN-NNN. <3 paige

you smiled hard, you can’t believe that the person you were secretly eyeing on was eyeing you too. well if it isn’t the perks of having a basketball player mom.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

I need to ramble into the void about Arcane season 2 act 2 because I'm a fucking wreck, but genuinely overjoyed too. Mostly sobbing, though. There is a smidge of LoL lore under the cut too but that's just me being autistic.

This show is genius. I have so many thoughts. The Glorious Evolution is at the forefront of most of them.

Viktor's commune is so cleverly designed, and brings in different elements from the whole of Runeterra. The architecture is distinctly Ionian, the foliage is Ixtali, and the colour palette is Demacian but with the iridescence of the Arcane. It's such a brilliant design choice. And immortalising Skye as this symbol of curiosity and progress, the epitome of true scientific partnership, is beautiful. It's amazing to see Viktor becoming a fully fleshed-out character with a complex and appealing motive.

Speaking of, Singed???

Singed's experimentation finally makes sense. I was always hoping to see Orianna in Arcane, and this was the best possible outcome. A villain gains a motive, my first ever main has her lore integrated into the events of the show, and his little music box has so much more meaning. Every single character has a moral plight in this show. The gasp I gusped upon seeing that ballerina figurine literally woke my dad up.

Jayce, Piltover's face of progress, being the undoing of the commune is just poetic. I'm living for biblically accurate Jayce.

Vander made me ugly-cry at least three times. Making him into Warwick was the right choice. And the 2D animation of the bloodlust, replicating that in-game mechanic, was so good. That oil-painting-style flashback sequence with Vi and Powder and their mother was a bloody masterpiece. I'm really glad there was an act dedicated to him.

Mel. Fucking Mel. The Black Rose is one of the most interesting factions in LoL, and god, am I glad they kept Mel's arc going by intrinsically tying her into them. The integration of Noxian lore has been impeccable thus far. Ambessa explaining the three core values to Caitlyn was a lovely touch.

I'm glad Ambessa's right hand (forgot his name) Pantheon't bit the bullet, because his resemblance to a certain Targonian Aspect was starting to freak me out. Very curious where her arc is tending towards.

As soul-destroying as it was to see Isha's sacrifice, it was essential to Jinx's character arc. Sweet baby girl. She will live on happily in fix-it fics. I haven't cried this hard at a piece of media since the first season. Her innocent joy at having her hair dyed and braided like her big sister, and the montage in the Powder-like sketchy art style before she pulled the trigger on zap... They couldn't have written a more gut-wrenching sacrifice if they tried.

And finally, while it was contained within the more light-hearted episode of the Act, Sevika. I have no quarrel with the fuckass bob. She cannot catch a break, or keep a prosthetic together. But the payoff was getting to see her organic arm in its full thick, muscular glory. The calm before the storm. Happy thoughts.

1000/10, cannot wait for the final Act, as much as it will wound us all, probably.

[cybervesna]

Prima Ballerina

Wiosna Kochanowska, the star of Honorata Kochanowska's Ballet Company. Blame @ouroboros-hideout cuz I brainrotted hard with them about Ballerina AU and had to bring it to life! More under the cut!

Traditional ballet - In my headcanon it's the form of ballet strictly performed by people without any body cyberware. The first person to do so was Honorata Kochanowska (Wiosna's grandmother), who later opened the first traditional ballet academy.

Ballerina!Wiosna is the literal opposite of the main Wiosna. Mostly because this one was given to her grandmother to be raised, and her parents didn't interfere in any decisions (unlike in the main headcanon where they prohibited Wiosna from pursuing ballet professionally and neglected her in her childhood). So she grew up under her grandmother's wing, learning ballet night and day, not having time for anything like sneaking to Warsaw underground or netrunning. She did become the best ballerina of her time though.

She was sheltered for her safety since as a traditional ballerina she can't have any body enhancements, and any accident may be fatal for her career. Which means that she's 100% organic. With that come many dangers on its own, like creepy men who would like the taste of "real" women and stuff like that. However, that doesn't mean she was prohibited from meeting people, far from it actually. She was often invited as a guest of honor not only due to her international megastar status but also because she is the heir of LoveSky SMC. Think of her as a more social Hanako, lol.

The people she knew were mostly the highest of elites, and the richest of the world, which was kind of boring for her. Being a perfect porcelain doll had its downs in that regard, so when Wiosna grew up and had more liberty in what she could do, she was more and more interested in dark and dirty stuff. And the best way to experience that was a relationship with a scary man, like Vlad Volkov with whom she has a really terrifying and toxic relationship. About that I will for sure post more :>

[fancyfeathers]

To Fancy (srry it's my first time making a request)

We seen Ballerina, Librarian, nobility, chess 'nd some other readers, but what about an teacher? Depending on the region in the world, women began to be teachers from 1810 onwards, so would it be possible for us to have a female teacher? Of literature if possible And if so, which of the characters do you think this teacher would best match?

I think I wrote something about a teacher darling with William but I would say William, Louis, Mycroft, or Sebastian.

William is the obvious answer as he himself is a mathematics professor and while the chances are of his darling teaching children since there were not many women professors way back when the idea is still cute to me. He probably meets her when visiting the school on a consulting job to take care of the headmaster of the school under the guise of giving guest lectures and she happens to be the sweet English teacher who volunteered to let him use her classroom. Then when she looses her job when the school looses its headmaster and parents withdraw their students, he is the kind university professor who offers her to live with him and his brothers.

Louis would probably meet her while out at the market on her days off. Being the gentleman he is and also being head over heels for her at first sight he offers to help her carry her things back to her house, and when she invites him inside he sees all the little gifts her students have given her along with her students’ work and lesson plans stacked up on her desk. I feel like Louis could just picture a future with here right then and there, sitting with her in the drawing room having tea with her while she reads over her student’s assignments, but of course it is never destined to end like that.

Now Sebastian Moran is an odd choice but he has had a hard and rough life and to fall for someone who is gentle and kind is almost natural. He would just happen to run into her when she is making her way back home is while she is carrying a heavy stack of books, oh let him help, it’s no problem. It is the cinnamon roll and would kill you trope. It is just so rare for Moran to be so gentle with someone that he is just sort of putty in her hands. Also you know her students love asking him about if he is going to marry their teacher or ask him stories about how he got some of his scars cause children are little shits and curious as hell.

Then I really cannot explain Mycroft, it just feels right, like just picturing this terrifying man who is literally called the government being down bad for this little children’s teacher. Like chances are she does not even know who he is, he is probably a sponsor of his old primary school which is probably how he met her. Then he becomes a sponsor specifically for her class, literally anything she needs it is there the next day and she has no idea how it got there because she did not even say anything yet. Then also picturing Sherlock seeing his brother walking and smiling with this teacher who has nothing special about her would probably send his head for a spin, Mycroft in love? What happened? Did someone die?

[patchwork-crow-writes]

The Definition of Insanity

You snap wires.

Frantic fingers spindle across the inky blackness, taking hold of taut strings the colour of poison. You retch slightly as they pull apart in your hands, bursting like blood vessels and staining everything they touch with the stench of death.

You snap wires.

And all the while, his voice bores into your skull, wheeling and dealing even as he tries to kill you. Even as you try your very hardest to give him what he wants.

You snap wires.

SOUL burning hot like a phoenix in its final moments, shooting down offer after offer, pleading with this jittering, broken creature to stop, stop, please stop before one of us does something we're both going to regret...

You snap wires.

You can't remember how long you've been doing this for. You don't even know what you're doing, why you ever listened to his words in the first place. What had he promised in the space between his outbursts... and to whom?

And still, you snap wires. It's either that or die.

So you snap, and you snap, and you snap, and you

snap

Then there's only one left, shimmering in the darklight, so gossamer-thin that you cannot comprehend how it can still support the clanking, man-shaped junk it's attached to. He spins around it like a demented ballerina, professing heartfelt thanks to the friends he was trying to murder mere seconds before. Pleading with you to cut the final cord, to make him a real boy.

Your fingers move before you can respond. And the sound of his cold, lifeless body slamming into the ground stays with you for the rest of your life. The shock is so great that you almost collapse yourself, adrenaline finally loosing its death-grip on your body.

You are wracked with a great and terrible sigh, before you--/

/--snap wires.

...strings the colour of poison... bursting like blood vessels... stench of death.

...you've been here before, you realise, as you snap wires.

He wheels and deals, firing everything he has at you in a vain attempt to get you to give him what he wants. You would if you could... if it had ever been in your power to do so.

All you can do now is snap wires. And that is all you do.

Your fingers move on their own, as if compelled by an outside force. Pinch and twist, reminding you of shelling peas with your mom before Sunday dinner.

You can't recall the last time you saw her. You think that perhaps you should apologise to her if you ever make it out of here alive. You were always such a wilful child. Always getting into trouble of some kind or another.

And now here you were, making deals with something you couldn't even begin to fathom.

You cannot hear your friends anymore - they do not respond to you calls. And the salesman seems to become all-encompassing before you, drunk on ill-gotten power - power you helped him acquire. You close your eyes as he makes you an offer that you are unable to refuse.

Pain washes over you, and you--/

/--snap wires.

Poison... Blood... Death... this could be the fifth time; it could be the five-hundredth time. It doesn't matter, because all you can do is snap wires.

The salesman screams at you, and your SOUL screams back, roaring with anger and pain and frustration. Does it want the same thing as you do? Is it... trying to help? Or... or is this just a game to it. Fighting the same battle again and again, trying for a high score?

You ponder this as it makes you snap wires.

Perhaps this was punishment for trying too hard. For trying to help somebody who seemed to be suffering. You never understood what your mother meant when she told you the road to hell was paved with good intentions. To your child's mind, not yet versed in the world's wicked ways, this statement was a nonsense, an affront.

But now you get it, as you snap wires. Oh God, do you understand.

You always knew he was the same as you. Something BIG had seized his heart, just as it has seized yours. Prisoners of a destiny that was not theirs. You saw a caged bird crying for release, but you did not see the venomous spider using its corpse as a suit. In trying to make him more like you, you exposed yourself to the risk of becoming more like him.

Damaged. Deranged. Desperate. Dangerous.

And as your fingers become snared in his wires, and you stare transfixed into each other's eyes, you see the fate set out before you, and scream.

______________________________________________________________

You snap wires.

Sometimes, you live.

Sometimes, you die.

It doesn't matter.

You snap wires.

[ballet-symphonie]

Hi ballerinaaa! How hard is grand pas classique? it is quite the talk how challenging the variation is.

This variation is tough, easily one of the hardest in the classical repertoire. It's a stamina challenge, not so much in terms of crazy bravada, but in terms of the sheer # of releve's. Your calf muscles are screaming even before the famous diagonal of ballonees. The choreography is also quite exposing for the dancer, with body angles that are hard to keep turned out, and intricate transitions. Stylistically, the variation needs to be confident and crisp, authoritative but charming- not the easiest thing to convey when the choreography is a bit terrifying. Especially with students, you'll often see them walk on with one of two emotions: fear or overly aggressive 'I'm gonna nail this' gusto- both miss the mark for me.

Let's start with the first section, obviously the easiest. I like to watch the depth of the plies out of the pas de chat and into the different releves. The strongest dancers, and the one's with the technique to really shine in this variation, will have their heels firmly, safely pressed into the floor any time they get a chance.

I haven't performed this variation but remember having a master class on this variation with Jurgita Dronina. She stressed the importance of musicality and footwork in the first diagonal. Your arms are trying to sustain your legs, float the attitude and en dedans turns, and really sing the melody. To keep you balanced, she told us to think about our legs and lower body acting as the bass, the accompaniment. Yes, you need to float the balances and coordinate your body but not excessively. Each plie should be measured right on the notes, this becomes easier if your feet are stepping precisely in the rhythm of the piece.

Moving on, the jete's going up the diagonal should have actual height- this is still a jump even though it's the preparation for a developpe. It also should create a feeling of spontaneity, the releve out of the jump should be lightly unexpected. Afterward, one of the most difficult sections is the consecutive turning releve's in attitude into a big battement to the side. It's a fatiguing moment, but the leg should remain at the same height, not a bobbling up and down attitude. Watch also how the leg transitions from attitude, to coupe, to a la seconde.

Now on to the ballonne's that made this variation famous. It's supposed to be done on the croisé line, with the leg crossed to the audience. You may see it done on the effacé line to favor a stronger supporting leg or to make it a bit easier to keep turnout. It's an exhausting step, but also a great way to see how well someone has been trained and how strong their turnout is. When they do the ballonne to the side, they should plie with the leg in a la seconde before going into the turn. What often happens is that dancers will 'cut' the ballonne short and plie with their leg in either sur le cou de pied, or retire passe, before pushing up to turn. Most professional dancers aren't cheating at 45 degrees, but when the legs 90+ for the second set....things can get wacky. Watch for that plie, and the turnout of the supporting leg, as well as the stability of the spine. Here's two examples to consider, specifically comparing the diagonals:

And finally, consecutive tour pique is not terribly difficult on its own but it's somehow so much harder to do (and to finish) at the end of all this, especially for those who are trying to make it really exciting by nearly jumping them and throwing in a double to finish.

[cupofcarolina]

clem was invited for a photoshoot and interview for the most famous ballet magazine in brindleton bay! i'm so so proud of my 6th gen heir sniff sniff .·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·.

here's what the magazine had to say about little clem!

Dancing Through Life: The Journey of Clementine Cassidy In the heart of Brindleton Bay, a quaint coastal town known for its charming streets and friendly faces, a star is quietly rising. Clementine Cassidy, a 17-year-old ballet prodigy, is captivating audiences and inspiring young dancers with her grace, passion, and remarkable dedication. She was born in Sulani where she spent her early years surrounded by the island’s beauty, turquoise waters and warm breezes. Clementine was only five years old when she relocated to Brindleton Bay, the vibrant colors to the cooler tones was significant, but Clementine found comfort in her close-knit family. She now lives with her grandparents, her twin brother, and their mischievous cat, Clara. It was there, at the tender age of five, that she first laced up her ballet slippers, following in the footsteps of her beloved aunt, Maya Cassidy. Maya, then just 16, was already an accomplished ballerina with dreams of her own. She saw in young Clementine a spark, a potential that could be nurtured into something extraordinary. Under Maya’s guidance, Clementine took her first tentative steps in the world of ballet, quickly falling in love with the discipline and artistry of the dance. What began as a hobby soon became a passion that would shape the course of her life. Clementine’s days are a delicate balance of school, family, friends and dance. Every morning, she rises early to practice at the local dance studio, her movements precise and graceful, her focus unwavering. Her weekends are spent teaching younger children at the same studio, a tradition started by Aunt Maya, who has since become a respected ballet teacher in Britechester. Watching her students—much like Maya once watched her—Clementine sees herself in their wide-eyed enthusiasm and budding talent. At 17, Clementine is not just a dancer; she’s a role model, embodying the values of hard work, dedication, and the importance of family. Her performances have drawn attention from beyond Brindleton Bay, with scouts from prestigious ballet companies taking notice. Yet, despite the allure of a broader stage, Clementine remains grounded, always remembering where she started and who helped her along the way. “I dance for the joy it brings,” Clementine says with a warm smile. “But also for my family, especially Aunt Maya. She showed me the beauty in ballet and believed in me when I was just a little girl.” As she looks toward the future, Clementine dreams of dancing on stages worldwide, but Brindleton Bay will always be home. And no matter where her ballet slippers take her, she knows she’ll always have the love and support of her family. In every pirouette, every leap, Clementine dances not just for herself but for the legacy of inspiration passed down from her aunt, a legacy she’s now passing on to the next generation. In Brindleton Bay and beyond, Clementine Cassidy is a name we’ll be hearing for years to come.

[hawkepockets]

thoughts/headcanons abt dao party body types…

morrigan is skinny, gangly, tough, and rangy from life in the wilds. she has sharp shoulders, stick-out shoulderblades, pointy joints, knobby long-fingered hands, a flat chest. she could be built like a ballerina, except that she doesn’t practice flexibility or grace. which makes her obviously graceless and brittle. the same height as alistair, annoyingly.

alistair is a big-boned, broad-shouldered, strong young man, inclined to beefiness, pudge, and nice boobs… except that he’s always been underfed and has now contracted the taint, so his strength is kind of wasting and drooping on his frame. a sad little belly… slightly pointed ears, just enough to mark him as a shifty character to the eye of a suspicious bigot, without being definitely elvhen.

leliana is plush, pear-shaped, and curvy with big (deadly) thighs and a heart shaped face. her arms have unexpected wiry strength, and her hands are hard. she loses a lot of her healthy fat & rosiness between dao & dai, becoming more rumpled, spindly and birdlike. SAD.

zevran is a beautiful, cat-footed rogue who can charm the rich and classy, so he’s fat and deceptively soft, apple shaped with dainty hands and feet and very strong calves from jumping and climbing. he moves very quietly and springily. medium height for an elf, short king by human standards. long, elegant ears.

wynne is a classroom skeleton. wynne is a folded up ironing board in circle robes. wynne is a murphy bed. wynne is a coffin lid. wynne is taller and more imposing than you expected from a distance. extremely straight, stern posture and big hands that she’s taken good care of. nothing about her bowed or crabbed by age. even her wrinkles are straight lines.

oghren has a beer belly and broad, hairy hands, but by dwarven standards he’s kind of small and slender.

melantho is tiny, much smaller than any of the humans, but to call her “lithe” or “willowy” because she’s an elf would be a joke. her sister is lithe and willowy. mela is a compact, unyielding mass of gristle and bone. no ass, no tits. the taint was already taking hold of her on the road to ostagar, and though its grip on her loosened with the joining she bears its marks—sunken eyes, clawed fingers and toes, blackened extremities, a fevered metabolism that melts away any remaining baby fat and keeps her cranky and cold, a slinking step, sensitivity to light. big, kitten-like ears.

sten is stacked like a sumo wrestler. best tits in the party, easily.

matsendra is bigger than mela but still pretty short with a fat, rounded hourglass figure. like zevran, he has a well-fed, satisfied, domesticated look, but unlike zev he’s not prepared for any chases or parkour. he is genuinely as used to soft living as he looks. with time away from the circle he firms up and gains a subtle, intimidating glow of strength and control, but never gets slimmer. for an elf he has smaller, rounder ears—one torn half off by the demon torpor—and unusually thick facial & body hair.

loghain is actually built very, very similarly to alistair, in a more advanced stage—a big frame that should be filled out, but miserable, ascetic living has stooped his shoulders and hollowed his gut, making him look older than he is.

velanna is an inverted triangle, a corn chip, a captain america. big shoulders, trim waist, tight butt. very disciplined. when she slouches in annoyance it’s artful, poised, and a little hard to believe.

nathaniel looks like a line cook. clammy, jittery, skinny, ugly defined abs, diet of mostly smoke. much much too tall. too tall by far. hunched, self-conscious body language. has erratic bursts of strength in which he can toss oghren like a sack of flour.

sigrun is a full and sexy hourglass!! but she’s all the way down there and wearing legion armor, so you don’t even know. you don’t even get to know how perfect she is.

justice is dead, and squishes like rotten fruit if you touch him. very big, looks as tall as nathaniel but that’s because nate has bad posture. actually slightly shorter. twice as wide.

anders is spare and kind of attenuated, like he’s been spread thin by stress, with an unusually long, slender torso, long arms, and short legs. his hands & feet are a little too big for his limbs, like a stray cat used to fighting, but his touch—whether healing, hurting, or grasping in passion—is gentle, firm, and clinical.

shale is shale.

and most of them are trans.

…………… TO ME❗️

[nualaofthefaerie]

Who am I, and why I'll always show where Nuala is mentioned?

So hello guys.

I came to the realization that a lot of people on Tumblr do not know me, and I came kind of suddenly to you guys. So, allow me to tell you who I am and why I hope to become a big part of your "Sandman" experience. I will attach some pictures for references 🩷🪷

My name is Li. My main platform is Twitter. Most of my friends are there too. I hope I can make a lot of mutuals here, too. I came across "The Sandman" one year ago. Now, the Sandman is a wonderful piece of media for people to explore a plethora of dynamics they enjoy. For me, it was a bit of an adjustment.

Before reading the comic, I tried to stan Dreamling. However, for me personally, I very rarely enjoy dynamics with no women in them. That is, of course, me personally. I am not the one who should tell people what they should enjoy. Bi/Pan WLM and WLW, those are dynamics I truly enjoy. However, at the time, I was trying to fit in with what was popular. Truly, it didn't make me very happy because I just don't see it the way Dreamling shippers see it.

So I tried changing my angle. I tried to get into Calliope and Morpheus (I apologise, I do not know if they have their own little ship name). This one fitter me a bit better. However, I have personal issues with the concept of divorce, and I could never quite brush aside the fact that at the end... they were divorced. I even made a Calliope cosplay at the time and met Tom (loveliest person on Earth).

(I envisioned this ballerina Calliope cosplay, and for the most part, I made it work. This was my VERY first attempt at anything.)

He kind of convinced me to just read through the comics. And I did. And it all really fell into place. And Nuala of the Faerie became my spark. I want to make it clear that I love Nuala so much more and so BEYOND Sandflower. She is just so exceptional, so complex. I became SO excited to explore what the Internet could offer on her only to get...nothing. Absolutely nothing. Whatever little official art there was (three-five drawings and it was usually not even Nuala centered, she was just there) and two three pen drawings on DivienArt made in 2010.

Now, one thing about me is that I am persistent as all hell. And it is completely out of line that Thessaly is a "main character," but Nuala isn't. So, in January, I had a very "If no one is going to do it, I will" moment. I began talking about her every day. Analysing, sharing panels, commissioning artists (uni student making commissions, I was kinda of crazy for that one. I made one commission once and then had 20 bucks left for the week to buy food) and every minute since January until today, I do it all for her. Because she deserves to be recognized. Nuala is no less than Lucien/ne or the Corinthian. I have an ask sitting in my inbox that I simply don't know how to answer:

"Why do you think "x" is more popular than Nuala?"

I do not know, to be honest. Frankly, I also try not to care. Because my love for Nuala is not based on bringing other characters of the Sandman down. I do this to uplift her to a status where one day, I won't be the only person on the Nuala tag (I was SO happy the other day when like five new people had made art, SO happy) and not the only one on the Sandflower tag (that is ONLY me for now). And until then, I will be the only one. It's okay. And when I no longer have to be, I will sit back and enjoy the fruits of my hard work.

This may appear very self-centered to those who do not know me, but those who do will tell you I work day and night for her. I have a 70k Sandflower fic, 50k of which is only its first arc, just sitting in my google Docs. I have sketches upon sketches. I talk with artists about more commissions and how to make it so she gets a new outreach. I have conversations and try to introduce her to as many people as possible until they notice her and care for her at least a fraction of how much I do. She inspired me to try sewing and really get to cosplay a SOLID version of her (still working on that).

(I sewed most of the outfit and and it was my second attempt to do anything from scratch. I'll get better at it 🪷🌿🩷)

I like to think she would love it. She only ever longed to be loved. And I love my girl.

So much. We help each other every day. We exist together. And when her actress joins our little triangle, we will make the perfect fairy. The perfect personification of womanhood the way I see it.

My Nuala (Lala, Lali, Lalita, flower, the pearl, sun, if I missed any of my moots nicknames for her, hit me up).

So that's it, dear Tumblr. I am afraid you won't be able to mention Nuala of the Faerie without me because somewhere in May, we started co-existing.

And we are not going anywhere.

Love,

Li and Nuala 🪷🌿🩷

[earlgarden-archived]

Jumin Han x Elegant! reader part 2!

Outline: Jumin with a elegant wife

Characters: Jumin Han

Warnings: Only for female readers. Might be a bit ooc

Sorry if this was a bit short.

Wedding

Yup we're gonna completely skip the proposal and go straight to the wedding. (Because I'm a bit lazy)

The wedding was... Big. And very expensive. Jumin wanted to make this the most memorable day in your life, so he went all out with the wedding. He insisted on paying for your wedding dress, but since he was already paying for everything, you decided to pay it yourself. Of course, you being the elegant queen you are, you wanted a gorgeous, elegant dress. And after a long day, you couldn't really find the perfect dress. So, Jumin suggested to get a custom made wedding dress. And once again offered to hire one, but again, you declined (because you are too kind) After all, being elegant is not just about the looks. You were able to work with the designer to design the PERFECT dress. And oh my god, the look on Jumin was priceless. He had to quickly fix his composure though. He invited all the RFA members for you to meet, and even offered for you to join RFA (its up to you if you accept or not).

RFA members opinions

After becoming wife and husband, a lot of the RFA members have noticed that he's changed a bit. He came into the chatrooms more, often talking about you, and he would be a little more considerate of others, thanks to your influence. He also shares a lot of photos of you in the chatrooms, slightly bragging about how lucky he was to have you.

Zen was SO shocked about the sudden consideration Jumin now has for him. Before, he would constantly tease Zen with Elizabeth the 3rd, but now, he doesn't do it as often. But he is also a bit jealous of Jumin. He kinda thought that he would be the first RFA member to date, or even marry someone. So when Jumin shared the news of their marriage, he was a little jealous and said that he didn't really deserve you. (As shown in Jumin's official after story). But he's come to accept it now.

Jaehee is relieved that you influenced him to be more nicer to people. Now, she has time for breaks and can finally rest. Now that you're there, you're the one to look after Elizabeth the 3rd, leaving Jaehee cat-free! Unfortunately, you are also sometimes busy, so she's still forced to take care of her. But at least it's less often. (Unless you're also busy like Jumin, then she would not be happy).

Yoosung thinks youre super kind, like Rika. He really envies how you are confident in who you are, and how you know you're valuable. He sometimes has a hard time with that, since he always thinks he's the least interesting person in RFA. As well, he notices how you have polite manners, a little bit similar to Jumin. You can also handle conversations really well, almost nothing catches you off guard, you hide most of your emotions behind a graceful smile. He knows why Jumin fell for you.

You and V got along quite well. You both have nice conversations with eachother, talking about various different topics, from Jumin's childhood, to V's photographs etc. And when Jumin asked if you could join RFA, he said he didn't mind, you seemed like a pretty secretive person, so he felt like he could trust you with information. Of course, he and Seven both have to do a background check first before you join. But overall, he thinks that inviting you should be alright.

707 thought you were a chill person, you slightly giggled at his jokes and you seemed like you enjoyed his company (which made Jumin a tiny bit jealous). V asked him to do a background check on you, and he was slightly relieved when he found that you had a safe background. Since he kinda wanted you to join.

When you're a ballerina as a hobby

When he found out you were a ballerina, he made an entire ballet practice room just for you. This is so you don't need to walk that far to practice, and it was more efficient this way. As well, whenever you had a show, he would ALWAYS come. No matter what, he would somehow find time in his busy schedule to come to your show. Several times, meetings were delayed to make time for your show. You always said that he didn't need to come any time, but he insisted on coming. Plus, you were pretty happy that he was so supportive.

One time, you were starring in Swan Lake, and he was stoked. He even invited the RFA members to come. (Believe it or not, he invited Zen, since he knew Zen would probably enjoy this). Everyone was mesmerized. You were just so... BEAUTIFUL. Even Yoosung enjoyed it, which Jumin was slightly surprised about.

[anantaru]

this is random but you mentioned you're a professional ballerina right? and like.. do you ever skip your training? im trying so hard to stay consistant at the gym but its becoming harder to deal with😓😓

hello 💓 i don't skip my trainings/rehearsals, it's part of my job to stay in shape and know upcoming performances for example by heart, i'd get fired immediately 🧍🏻‍♀️

especially in ballet if you aren't pushing through it, they'll just replace you like there's plenty of people wanting the spot i have right now, which is one of my greatest motivations to keep going and giving more each day. 🙇🏻‍♀️ but also, you shouldn't compare your gym experience with my work which is my livelyhood and how i make money, going to the gym for you should be to just do something good for your body and moving it.

speaking of consistancy for example, sure many people struggle with it but you do not need to go to the gym every single day right from the start 💓 maybe try once a week, and if you find it to be easy either increase it or let it be like that for a while. do not stress yourself, the fact you at least try shows me that you are dedicated enough to pull through 💓

[hypergamiss]

You talk about how a man will move mountains for the woman he actually wants, a lot. I see this type of attitude in religious circles quite often. I had a friend who went to bible study for a month and when her husband finally had the courage to talk to her, his first words were “I’m going to marry you one day.” They were married within a year. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on her that she was going to be his wife.

I personally find her story off putting because it didn’t seem like he even stopped to consider that she might not like him back. In his mind, she was going to be his and that was the only option. There was no alternative ending in his story. It has misogynistic undertones, like women don’t have a choice in a man’s mind. Like where is the mutual love and respect? The time to grow and love each other? Fortunately, they actually were made for each other. I can’t imagine either one of them with anyone else.

I struggle with how to feel about this to be honest. Depending on the context and relationship, it can be seen as stalking or romantic.

In some cases, this possessive entitled approach would be labeled as abusive like in the Ballerina Farms situation (have you heard about it? If you could, can you share your thoughts about it). But other times it’s seen as a romantic chase that every woman should strive for. Normally, a woman being chased by the son of a billionaire would be every woman’s fantasy. But because they are Mormon and he had a stipulation for how his wife should be in their relationship, his pursuit is seen as abusive and problematic???

Refusing to leave a woman alone after she has denied advances multiple times is called stalking and harassment. But it seems like every woman has a scenario in which that behavior is perfectly okay. Usually if he buys her lavish gifts and becomes more extravagant with each occasion, then a woman will change the definition from him being a creep to him being The One.

I can understand why men are confused about how to pursue women these days because even as a woman, I get mixed signals when I listen to other women talk. Sometimes I get lost lol

Religious or not, if a man wants to be with a woman, he will make it happen.

Most recently a man moved countries to be able to pursue me and didn't even hesitate to propose (he proved his point). But if he did that knowing that I wasn't interested in him at all? Yeah THAT’S worrisome.

I think that every relationship has its unique background and context so its hard to judge all of them and decide whether the mans pursuit is genuine and romantic or creepy. Only the two people involved really know.

Ballerina Farm is a whole separate topic that I can post about if you let me know what your specific question about it is for me besides my thoughts on it?

The only men that are confused about how to pursue a woman tend to be the ones that are chronically online overthinking everything or don’t have a good male figure to teach them how to pursue a woman properly. Or both.

I have teenage nephews that are better gents than most of these grown men out here (sadly).