#there is an anklet involved

[dodgerkedavra]

See Me and Live [H/D Mpreg 2024 Fic Claim]

See Me and Live by DodgerKedavra

Word Count: 37,730

Rating: E

Description: Harry and Draco are roommates. They're coworkers. They're secret boyfriends. And now they're having a baby together!?

“Pansy,” Harry hisses at Pansy’s shoulder, partially exposed by the haphazard drape of her dressing gown. “What the fuck?” “I can’t come,” Pansy moans, then sniffles loudly. “I’m ill, Harry. You know how Draco gets when he’s ill. It’s not worth the risk to both of you.” “You can’t do this to me.” Pansy is doing it to Harry—the doing is already in progress, which is why he’s crouched in front of the Floo in the workroom part of their offices at Park and Sons Private Eyes.  “It’s not my choice. It’s not my fault. If I was healthy, you know I’d be there with my power skirt-suit on and my sunglasses in place and my red lipstick all ready to go. But I can’t get up. My head is throbbing.” “Take a potion!” “A potion won’t help.” Pansy coughs, a weak, pathetic little sound. It immediately raises Harry’s suspicions. What really raises his suspicions is that she wriggles her hips at the end of her cough. Harry’s not trying to look at her hips. Her dramatic sprawl puts her head halfway out of view on one end of the Floo and her hips at the other. Also, Harry happens to know that Pansy’s grate is one of those raised ones. It’s at least six inches off the floor. His former-Auror mind quickly deduces that she cannot possibly be lying on the floor. “Pansy,” he says. “I’ll be in tomorrow. Or Friday.” Pansy flaps her hand around. “When I’m fully recovered. If Draco catches this—” “If he catches loads of dick?” Harry says in his most accusatory voice. Pansy freezes. A second too late, she gasps. “How vulgar! How—” She remembers she’s supposed to be on her deathbed, tries to sniffle, and snorts instead. “How presumptuous! And how—how judgmental, Harry. There is nothing at all wrong with sexual congress and I would never begrudge Draco—” “Ron,” Harry shouts. “I know you’re there.” Pansy freezes again. From outside the grate comes a heavy sigh. A sigh that Harry knows very well. Since it’s a sigh coming from the mouth of one of his best friends in the world, Ronald Bilius Weasley.   “Listen, mate—” Harry leans closer to the flames. “I wore the outfit. I’m dressed, Pansy.” “Go upstairs and change!” “I can’t.” “Why? Draco won’t see you stripping down and—” “He’ll hear!” “Well!” Pansy’s hand flaps around in the centre of the grate. “Good! He won’t be surprised!” “If he hears me coming, he will hex me, Pansy!” “Then announce yourself!” “What, just shout that I’m coming back upstairs against the routine because I have to get naked and—” “Why would you have to get naked?” Ron asks. “Because of you,” Harry shoots back. “Mate, I swear, none of this was my idea.” “It wasn’t? Really, Ron? Pansy put you in a Body-Bind and slithered all over your dick and—” Pansy snickers. “He’s not in a Body-Bind now.” “Merlin’s balls. Get off him and come to work. I’m dressed for the mission and you’re fine.” “I’m not,” Pansy whines. “I have a deficiency.” “A dick deficiency?” Harry shouts. “An emergency dick deficiency that’s causing you to totally abandon me? A dickficiency?” From the earthquake-level shaking in Pansy’s shoulders, she’s doing her best to hide belly laughs. “Vit—” Pansy makes several hissing sounds in a row that sound even more like suppressed laughter. “Vitamin D,” she chokes out.

I laughed so much writing this that I almost became injured. From laughing. I had the time of my LIFE.

Special thanks to @babooshkart for the anklet idea, which really brought this whole thing together!

[ddarker-dreams]

yan chrollo has a not-so-subtle obsession for 'helping' you put things on.

the dresses he picks out for you have zippers along the back, necessitating his involvement. he drags the process out on purpose. his fingers will ghost from your bare spine upwards, stopping at the nape of your neck, where he'll sweep any stray stands of hair away. hurrying him up is a fruitless endeavor — he somehow goes even slower if you tell him to pick up the pace.

"we don't have all day," is met with him replying:

"but we'll have all night."

so it's better you let him carry out his 0.5 speed maneuvers.

still, that's nothing compared to him sliding your tights into place. he isn't big on the patterned kinds, preferring them black or sheer. he'll have you sit on the side of the bed while he kneels before you. the intensity behind his stare while he quietly rolls the fabric up makes you shiver, even in the height of summer. he's so taken with his task that any nervous prattling on your part is met with noncommittal hums. it's the one time you wish he'd keep a conversation going, as the silence is heavy.

this behavior bleeds into everything.

during the colder months, he helps you in and out of your coat. necklaces, bracelets and anklets are clasped around you with reverence. this extends to your cosmetics as well. he'll trace his thumb along the outline of your lower lip, claiming to have seen 'a smudge,' that both of you know to be nonexistent.

don't mistake these acts for that of a gentleman. it's for his satisfaction, above all else.

[bomber-grl]

Percy Jackson x Child of Hera 🦚

Pairing(s): Percy Jackson x Gn!Reader

The first thought Percy has is just trying to figure out how you even came to be. It’s nothing like Athena, where her kids pop out of her head fully formed. No, for you to exist, there has to be a human involved—because, well, it takes two to tango. Plus, Athena’s whole thing is marriage and loyalty, so the idea of a glowing mark appearing above anyone’s head at camp—especially one that’s never appeared before—raises a lot of eyebrows.

Naturally, drama follows. There’s also some confusion among Percy and the other campers. In both Greek Mythology and Percy’s life, Hera has been an antagonistic figure. And he’s not the only one with strong feelings about her. You’re guided to the Big House where Chiron and Mr. D discuss your existence while some nymphs clean out the Hera Cabin. The fact that “Hera Cabin” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue should be proof enough that you probably shouldn’t exist.

Percy and Annabeth are there too and overhear the conversation. After some heated discussions, it’s decided that you’re a demigod (after much deliberation), and since you are, Chiron says you’re welcome at camp. Not everyone’s thrilled about it, though, and even Percy thinks it’s pretty unfair. Sure, your mom is probably the worst godly parent ever, but it’s not like you had any say in that. (Not that any of the other gods are any better, but still.)

Though you’re not exactly being embraced by everyone, some see you as a bit of a curiosity. Hera doesn’t have any powers that stand out, so no one knows what to expect from her potential demigod kids. Safe to say, you become a bit of a project and gain some attention—not always the good kind—and you’re quickly becoming well-known for not being too different from your mom in some aspects.

During a Capture the Flag game, your powers first show themselves. You’re ganged up on by a group of Ares kids, who Percy knows to be pretty close to each other. He figures you’re in serious trouble since – much like his first time participating in Capture the Flag, he wasn’t really mentally prepared– but then something weird happens. One Ares kid randomly notices the sibling on her right is wearing her favorite anklet—totally out of nowhere—and then, they both blow up in each other’s faces. The third one tries to break it up, but instead, they all turn on each other, leaving you the perfect opportunity to sneak away.

This keeps happening, and after a while, Percy finally starts to put two and two together. Annabeth, of course, is impressed by how long it took him to figure it out, and Grover had picked up on it a while ago. Turns out, you have the ability to influence people’s relationships, pulling out little resentments and using them to your advantage. You don’t just break up friendships—you mess with their bonds to get the upper hand.

Percy’s always liked his powers, but after watching you, he can’t help but sort of be jealous of yours. Then, realized this implied he wanted to be Hera's spawn ( not that being a big fat target of a Poseidon kid for monsters was any better.)

Soon, more powers started to emerge, and it was almost like waiting each Wednesday for an episode of your favorite show to air. First, there’s healing—or maybe protection? It’s hard to tell. Both? It happens during a training duel when you and a close demigod friend are sparring against another duo. Percy’s time at camp was always spent rushing around, but this time, he actually stopped to watch. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that you’re getting totally wrecked—like, it’s not even fun to watch anymore. Your ally’s shield disappears when one of the enemies strikes, and a sword is about to make contact with your friend. Quite literally almost drawing blood. Time seems to slow, but then he and likely the rest of the onlookers are pulled out of the trance. There you are, your wounds healing at an incredible rate, and even your friend’s injuries are disappearing too. The most impressive part? There’s an invisible barrier stopping the sword from going any further. You were kneeling in front of your somewhat fallen friend, shielding them from your opponent while drawing strength from it (rather your bond)

It ended in a draw, which Percy thought was total buttcheek. He doesn’t really care about it at the time, though. That opinion doesn’t become important until much later—when you two are already dating. I know, a big leap, but stick with me. It wasn’t long after the day you completely owned those arrogant Ares kids—fair and square—that they started scheming for revenge. They always did.

It’s late in the afternoon at Camp Half-Blood, the kind of quiet time when most campers are either training or lounging around the mess hall. Percy’s leaning against a tree, thinking of a way to tell Sally about what he’s been up to without worrying her out. He’s been on edge all day. The rumors about you—the one with the strange powers—have been flying around camp like wildfire. Some are saying you’ve got the ability to manipulate emotions, others think you can control the weather. Either way, no one knows exactly what you’re capable of, and that makes people uncomfortable.

Suddenly, the camp’s usual peace is interrupted by the sound of shouting—definitely not a good kind of shouting. Percy glances up and sees a group of Ares kids marching toward the training field, and standing in the middle of the group is you. You’re being dragged along, and your usual expression—slightly aloof, like you’re just there to observe—has been replaced with a look of annoyance.

Percy doesn’t have to guess what’s going on. The Ares kids have probably targeted you again, just like they did during Capture the Flag. He can already hear their more than lacking insults, Each one less cutting than the last. They don’t know how to deal with the idea of a demigod child of Hera showing up and making waves. Honestly, they’d probably prefer you were just a myth. Especially after you kicked their asses.

Without thinking, Percy jogs over to where the group is gathering. His first instinct is to stop the bullying, but as he gets closer, he sees something that gives him pause: you’re not fighting back, but you’re not backing down either. Instead, your eyes are focused on the ground as the Ares kids get closer, like you’re silently waiting for something.

Percy slows his pace as he gets within earshot. He’s not sure what’s going on, but he can tell something’s about to happen. It’s when one of the Ares kids, who Percy knows can be particularly nasty—steps too close to you, then it happens. Without warning, the person stops mid-sentence, his face a mix of confusion and... fear?

The others don’t notice at first, but Percy sees it clearly— his grip on his spear loosens, and he stumbles back, like he’s been punched in the gut. Then another Ares kid, this time a girl named, turns on her heel and starts yelling at him, her voice rising in anger. One by one, they start turning on each other, their camaraderie unraveling as small but vicious arguments break out among them.

It’s like they’ve all been possessed by their worst insecurities, and Percy can’t help but realize—this is what you can do. You’re pulling on the threads of their relationships, turning them against each other without even lifting a finger.

Before it gets too out of hand, Percy steps forward, his voice a little louder than usual. “Hey!” he calls out, making the group freeze. They turn to him, a mix of annoyance and confusion on their faces, but Percy ignores them and looks directly at you. “What’s going on here?”

You glance at him, your expression unreadable, but there’s a slight quirk on your lips. “You don’t know?” you say, almost too casually for the situation. “I just helped them... work out their issues.”

Percy raises an eyebrow, not sure if he should be impressed or worried. “That’s one way to do it, I guess.”

The Ares kids, now looking like they’ve completely lost their unity, begin to scatter. Percy watches them go, then turns his attention back to you. “You know,” he says, taking a few steps closer, “that was pretty impressive. And a little terrifying.”

You shrug, your nonchalance making Percy feel both confused and intrigued. “It’s not like I asked for it,” you reply. “It just... happens.”

He studies you for a moment. “Again?” He can’t help but grin slightly. “Can’t say I didn't see that coming.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes sharper than he expected. “Neither did I.”

Percy didn’t stick around camp as often as he could have, but every time he did, the two of you grew closer. Honestly, it got to the point where you both developed feelings for each other. It was a little weird for Percy to think of Hera as a mother-in-law, and on the flip side, you were more than happy to have Sally as yours. You two got along really well, and like Percy, she never held anything against you just because of who your mom is—or how, you know, terrible Hera can be. Percy was honestly just relieved that two of his favorite people got along so well.

But, on the other end? Well, that was a whole mess. Pardon my language, but it was absolute dog shit. While you were still figuring out how to balance your relationship with Percy, Hera kept a very watchful eye on you. There’s a definite possibility that she doesn't approve of him. Not to rule out her approving of him and giving you her support—though if that’s the case, it definitely creeps Percy out. It makes him question whether there’s something he’s missing or if she’s just being her usual irritating self.

And speaking of, Percy can’t believe he ever thought you might be like Hera, just because you were a little manipulative at times. I mean, really—it was just your power. It had nothing to do with your actual personality. And when the truth about how you came to be finally came to light? It was a major turning point. Likely figured out with a –one long and exhausting quest that helped you two get closer than ever– later.

[demibats]

been thinking about richbuisnessman!eddie and how he would spoil you with gifts and jewels and different types of jewelry and clothes and accessories until one day he decides to get you an anklet with his initials on it and you surprise him one day buy putting on the lingerie he bought you a few weeks ago and putting the anklet on and everytime he hears it jingle while he’s thrusting into you he gets harder and rougher until youre both wore out 🤭🤭been thinking about doing a short fic on this but i would die to see your spin on it 👻👻

MY MIND IS REELING HOLY HELL. so i def took some creative liberties with this one because i wanted to stay true to eddie’s character, so in regards to him being a rich business man, i changed it just a bit 🤭 this has also been sitting in my ask box for probably near a year, but here ya go!!! changed it juuuuust slightly bc i believe that eddie munson is an absolute munch and eats pussy for his won pleasure. enjoy!

content warnings; smut (if you're under 18, do not interact!), fem terms and anatomy used, oral (f!receiving), eddie eating pussy because he loooooves it (and yes this needs it own tag), slight dom/sub dynamics, use of 'sir' as an honorific toward eddie

Eddie Munson is a modest man. With a wallet and dick that fat, you're surprised. Most men would be shouting from the rooftops of their penthouses that they're loaded, throwing hundreds at the dozen strippers they order every other friday night, just because they can.

But Eddie Munson isn't like that at all.

He doesn't live in some monstrous mansion or picturesque penthouse, he doesn't own six cars or a private jet. He isn't the kind of man to have a different girl in his bed every night, ones that really are only interested in him for his money. He's always been a gentleman and shot them down politely, but still met with a drink being thrown in his face or some uncalled for insult.

When you met him, he didn't give any indication that he had money. He wore a faded Dio shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks and a matching suit jacket. His thick fingers had scuffed silver rings, one for almost each of them. He had the most unruly curls you'd ever seen on a man. He flashed you a smile from your spot behind the bar, a toothpick hanging from the side of his mouth as he raised his glass in your direction, the men around him making comments about his boldness. From that moment forward, you were mesmerized.

The most difficult part about being romantically involved with him, was the gifts you'd receive from him. Eddie was very straight-foward with his wealth, he told you on your first date, to the exact same bar you tended. He told you he had toured with local bands from his hometown as an instrument and audio visual engineer. He made calls to different tour and musician managers to see if he would be able join their road crew. After a few years of life on the road, he managed to open up his own music shop. That's when the big bucks started flowing.

Despite knowing that he has more than enough money to spoil you with, you're still bashful and hesitant about accepting them. Hell, when he asked you to move in with him, you declined it almost immediately, not wanting to seem like you were financially leaning on him in any way. Even after you began living together, you maintained a 40-hour work week at the bar for some time.

The first gift, more like gifts, were beautiful bouquets of flowers he'd bring home to you. You'd be at home, curled up into the couch cushions with a paperback folded in your hands and in comes your darling boyfriend, ringed fingers curled around the green stems of another bouquet. Every Monday, he comes home from work with a fresh bouquet to replace your old ones. "To cure your Monday Blues, dollface," he'd say.

Then came the clothes. Every weekend he offered to take you shopping, saying something along the lines of, "Maybe we'll find something from one of those magazines you seem to actually read." Within the first month of living together, your portion of your shared closet took up the most space, at least a 3/4 ratio.

You feel beyond special, never taking his gifts for granted, especially since you're more than aware he knows he doesn't have to. He always tries to play it off, explaining how gift giving is just his love language. You might actually believe him, considering he gets his friends outrageous gifts as well, but it's different with you. There's a dark glimmer in his eyes when you tear back the paper encasing your newest present from your beloved.

Behind a deep maroon wrapping paper, lies a small white box. The name across the top of the box in golden script is of a jewelry shop you recognize. And it's not a cheap shop either. Lifting the lid off the box, your eyes flick up to meet Eddie, who's smirking, arms folded over his chest while a hand cradles his chin.

Once the gift has been revealed, a small gasp escapes from parted lips. It's a dainty anklet, sterling silver. As you lift the jewelry up by careful fingers, you notice the hanging letters. A less-than-subtle 'EM' charm hanging from it. It's also in a script font, making the 'E' look like a backwards '3'. A small gemstone sets between the initials, a beautiful cut ruby.

To say it's beautiful is an understatement. It's gorgeous, only something that Eddie Munson himself would think to be a perfect fit for his sweetheart. "Whaddya think?" He asks, though he already knows how you feel, more than confident at his gift-giving abilities.

"Eds, I love it. It's perfect, thank you," you chide, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips as another form of 'thank you.'

It isn't until Eddie decides that the two of you are going on vacation in Santorini that you ever really wear it. It's too ornate for every day wear, and a small part of you fears that it'll somehow slip or snap off and you'll have lost it.

Laid out on a reclining beach chair, you're soaking up the midday Grecian sun, shades perched atop the bridge of your nose and a mimosa in hand. The rental Eddie snagged for your two-week excursion was straight from a resort advertisement. The modern advancements made were stunning, but the architecture was true the city. You'd never imagined being sprawled out in front of a heated pool overlooking the beautiful seaside.

Aside from one of the many bikinis you packed for the trip and your sunglasses, you only had on the dainty anklet purchased by your lover. It settled against your skin and caught the sun's rays, making it shine.

"Look at you," you hear Eddie from over your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come outside, but the soft breath against the side of your neck made you jump, "spoiled rotten."

You can't help but snicker at his comment. He had made you this way with his expensive gifts, how could he judge? You decide to lean into this role of the 'spoiled rotten brat' he so lovingly teased you with, "What could you possibly want that's more important than me enjoying the sun?"

He knows better than to take the comment seriously, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he stands up from his crouched position, stepping to stand in front of the sun, "Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?"

You see him now, in all his glory. Long curls pulled back into a bun, strands creeping out from either movement or humidity, you aren't sure. A pair of black swim trunks hang off his hips and a Metallica muscle tank has been pulled over his tattooed torso, the ink etched into his arms still exposed. Good enough to eat.

Pushing your shades up on top of your head, you roll eyes at him once they're visible, "Ugh, you're blocking the sun, Eddie."

The metalhead raises his hands in defeat, a small smile on his features as he steps to the side, allowing the sun to once again be soaked up into your pores, "Alright, alright. No need to get feisty. Come inside for a while, I made lunch."

Even though you felt assured you'd won whatever playful battle was at hand, you weren't sure you were ready to drop the facade. Though, you were getting hungry, and if Eddie cooked? Your mouth watered at the thought.

"Fine. But because I'm hungry, not because you asked." You taunt as you swing your legs off the chair's recline, sliding your feet into your sandals.

Following him inside, he opens the sliding glass door for you, like the perfect gentleman he's always been, before following you through the threshold, sliding it shut behind him.

As the two of you enter the kitchen, your eyes land on the empty stove and countertops, eyebrows knit together in confusion, "Eddie, you said you-"

You're cut off by Eddie's fingers digging into your hip, backing you up against the marble counter top. Lifting your gaze up to his, the breath is nearly sucked out of you at his imposing stance in front of you, "I might've told a white lie," he mumbles, eyes glued to where his hand meets your flesh. His fingers slide underneath the thin band to your bottoms before allowing it to snap against your skin, "but then again, your attitude needs an adjustment."

Even with his tone bordering on mean, he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, taking his time. He can taste the freshly squeezed orange juice on your tongue. A firm, tattooed hand stays at your hip, holding you in place as your arms slink around his neck. With both his kiss and touch still relatively gentle, the thoughts that you're able to process are that he'll remain stern with you, but not unreasonable.

The brunette brings his kiss to your neck, down to your collarbone, traveling lower and lower until he reaches your navel. Glossy brown orbs lock onto yours as he slides the bottoms of your swimsuit down your legs.

"Don't cum until I say so," he states, his tone brokering no room for argument, "Got it?"

You nod, hands already white-knuckling against the edge of the counter, "yes..."

"Yes what?" he questions as he brings your ankles out of the fabric, eye catching that gorgeous anklet.

"Yes sir," you breathe, head lulling back, shoulders slumping already at the thought of his face buried between your thighs.

He carefully brings your thigh over his shoulder, one hand gripping the flesh there while the other has a determined hold on your opposite hip. Before another word can be passed between the two of you, his face is pressed to your core, tongue flattening out to lick a slow stripe between your folds. Although he's taking his time, listening intently to every sound you make, no matter how quiet, he's relentless. Tongue dipping into your weeping hole, his nose catching on your clit every so often. He's tuned in with your body, it's subtle movements, the noises you make and what the different sounds mean. You couldn't derail his focus if you tried.

Your fingers weave through his umber tresses even with it being tied back with an elastic, "Oh fuck..."

He devours you, laps at the liquid arousal trickling out, the noises caused by his actions utterly obscene. Wet, slurping and sucking noises mixed with your combined moans were a perfect melody to him. Something he'd listen to every day in his headphones, on repeat, without pausing. He shifts his eyes up, his gaze burning the image of your shallow breath matched with the swift rise and fall of your chest to memory.

The grip you have on his hair only spurs him on, especially when you tighten it. Calloused hands drag down your thighs, keeping them settled at both sides of his head like a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. He feels the soft bite of cold metal against his back, then remembers the anklet. Popping off of your dripping cunt, his chin glistening in your arousal, he brings his your thigh off of his shoulder and brings his hand down to your ankle, fingers delicately tracing over the thin metal chain.

You offer a soft whimper at the loss of contact, half-lidded eyes locked onto his figure, "Wha.. Why'd you stop?"

Cocking his head to the side, he taps the pad of his index finger against the jewelry dangling off your ankle, "Just... admiring the leash you so willingly wear." He coos, the words filled with lust.

He dives back in, bringing both thighs onto his shoulders, face snugly between them. He doesn't relent until you're arching your back, shuddering with every flick of his tongue. Even then, he's still not satisfied, and neither of you. You're on the cusp of your orgasm, trying to let Eddie know, but he just gives three gentle taps to your hip and a disapproving grunt. His words ring in your ears, Don't cum until I say so ... Got it?

Just as you're sure you can't hold out on him any longer, he mumbles 'you can cum, sweetheart,' against your mound, then goes right back to his assault on your clit. You spasm, thighs clenched around his head to the point you're sure he can't breathe, orgasm tearing through your body like a ripcord. He slowly brings the aggressive flicks of his tongue to a stop once you're whimpering, out of breath, sensitivity having taken a strong hold on you.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staying knelt between your legs as you catch your breath and return from the astral plane and back into your body. Though, he can't help but sneak glances at the silver anklet, and the 'EM" charm hanging off of it.

thank you for reading xx.

[whiteboi-inferiority]

Interview with @black-new-world-academy pt5

I am deeply shallow; hair, hoops, heels, a pretty face and a wicked laugh. And accessories. Necklaces, bangles, purses, bows, scarves, gloves, cocktail glasses, that cute little QoS tattoo and hotwife anklet. The way you wear them and the way you work them will get you noticed.

Some class A eyefucking and flirting skills (primp a little, preen, lemme see it), a passion for expression, a strong selfie game, knowing your worth and what you want, being classy and graceful with just a touch of gossipy cheerleader vanity and a hint of oral fixation will get you attention.

Being liberal minded, willing and experienced in polycule life, having a high EQ, being playful, being adventurous in spirit and wanting to explore, being a good person who likes to let out their wicked side during sex, being tactile and romantic, having good self grooming and self love habits and not someone who will be an emotional vampire, and being available (physically & emotionally) and being consistent will keep my attention.

Note that at no point did I mention skin colour, plumbing, BNWO or being a submissive slut.

I harp on about white women here as the blog is focused, partly, on taking whiteboys' women from them hehe. There's no fun in taking away something they didn't feel entitled to or can't relate to in the first place. Also pictures of suitable white women to caption are easier to come by.

But as @karlie-xox and @sissyfuckdoll153 can attest on here, Daddy's partial to a BAME baddie and the trans women I have been/am involved with irl happen to be among the sweetest, bravest, truest, most beautiful, most feminine creatures I've known. White cis-women are not the automatic top of my foodchain.

It's hot if you're into BNWO, but really its not a deal-breaker if you're not. Simply being with me and not a whiteboy is doing your part bwahaha ✊🏾

And the 'submissive slut'? Honey, I don't demand you be that. But if I'm the right Daddy for you, will find you want to be that with me anyway.

[moodymisty]

How does a space marine mark their favourite serf?

We already know that Night Lords have their blood ink tattoos and Space Wolves simply pee on their favourite, but what about the other legions? How would Astartes go about specifically marking their favourite serfs as theirs? So it got me thinking about the other 20 original legions and what their answer to this conundrum would be.

Salamanders handcraft specific pieces of jewelry and give them to their serf, each has a signature style and that style acts as an identifying mark. Another for the GPS club.

Blood Angels leave behind bite marks from repeated feedings. The bite marks and where the bite marks are placed identify the Astartes based on feeding preferences.

Ultramarines have filed out specific paperwork form A5 - 69 that now has you listed as their support serf/support wife. You have the paperwork and everything on you at all times to flash at anyone trying to hit on you.

The Raven Guard gives you a nice simple permanent anklet with different inscribing denoting a particular Astarte. You may or may not be GPS-chipped now.

If you are lucky then your Iron Warriors master will simply fashion you a nice iron collar with their information hanging from a tab. If you’re not, then the Iron Warriors will simply brand you with a customized burning iron, it’s quite painful.

Dark Angel will just stoically rub their face against you, trying to impart as much of their scent onto you as they can. Your goddam terrified and confused out of your mind as this occurs.

Iron Hands will augment you with specific pieces of valuable tech denoting you as being more valuable than other flesh bags, your permission is not asked for this procedure.

In the World Eaters, no one marks their serf as belonging to them, because of the simple fact that Angron would outright murder any Astartes he caught doing so, seeing too many connections between that and slavery.

For Luna Wolves they thankfully won’t impart their scent by peeing on you, they will however keep you in an all-night breeding session, arguing there is no greater way to claim a person than by getting them pregnant with their child. Truly their father’s sons.

For Word Bearers I don’t have any concrete ideas, but whatever it is it’s weird and it’s religious. Possibly a chastity belt, one that only they have the key for.

When an Alpha Legion astartes marks you there is no smell, mark or any other signifier. However any kind of marking ends up being somewhat moot. As when you are an Alpha Legionnaire, you are still obligated to share your serf with the rest of your Astartes brothers.

So apparently the White Scars ritually scar themselves with a long scar called an honour scar when they join the chapter. So any particular favoured serf is going to be ritually scarred in a specific manner similar to or resembling their master’s to showcase which white scar they belong to.

When it comes to the Death Guard I honestly have no idea for these guys and I don’t think I want to even consider it.

If an Emperor Children picks you as their serf then they’ll pick out very good and beautiful outfits to showcase that fact, there are a few specific pieces of high-quality clothing commonly used to denote a serf belonging to an Emperor Children. However, things get interesting in that regard when we get to post heresy…

To show ownership Imperial Fists will scrimshaw you a piece using some sturdy Xenos bone, with their scrimshaw style acting as identification.

If a Thousand Sons marks you as theirs, then expect warp magic shenanigans. How they mark you are going to be different with each Thousand Sons, though you’ll bet your bottom dollar that sorcery is always involved.

The Ultramarine one made me laugh out loud XD Some of these are definitely what I imagine what a SM of each chapter would do, within reason.

[gingermintpepper]

Day 4: Aristaeus

Interpretation notes and trivia below the cut!!

All rise for the entrance of my president !! Honestly, of all the figures and characters that were up for debate when I first started thinking about this story and who I wanted leading the charge Aristaeus was not one of them. Originally, I'd always known that Asclepius and Orpheus would be worked in somehow - they've always been favourites of mine in terms of children of Apollo (even if Orpheus as the child of Apollo and Calliope is less popular classically) and I expected my pick for the third child of Apollo to be involved to be similarly mortal like Iamus or Tenes but the more I looked into Aristaeus the more I fell in love with him! Ultimately, he's meant to be both a foil and a reflection of his father - a boy who grows up thinking his father's footsteps would always be warm only to realise that following in them would lead to death and destruction. While his status as a rustic and hunting god is still important here, Aristaeus' interpretation is much more focused on his connection to the Etesian wind and his quelling of the dog star Sirius which is why his hair in particular is so long and spiralling. All in all, more than any other figure I've chosen to interpret and represent in my work Aristaeus is the god I hope more people get interested in and research! I think there are a lot of important stories in his various myths and travels and I definitely want more people to discover and fall in love with them as I have!

Some fun trivia:

Apollo's firstborn son. Because he was born mortal on account of his very mortal mother, Apollo immediately took him to Olympus to eat ambrosia to begin his transition into divinity. Apollo would continue to feed Aristaeus small amounts of ambrosia and nectar for the next ten years until the child fully shed his mortal skin and was reborn as a god.

Due to the nature of making mortals deathless (namely the fun part of the process where they are completely remade and lose their mortal memories) Aristaeus spent most of his early life with his mother and siblings where they all pitched in to reteach him his family, his hobbies, his favourite things and ultimately how to live and love. Aristaeus was very attached to his maternal family because of this and his early acts of ingenuity were mostly born from his wish to make things easier for his family.

Aristaeus is the only one of his children Apollo hand raised full time. In those days, Aristaeus adored his father and believed him completely upright and blameless, the true face of a benevolent deity and the kind of man he aimed to be when he was full grown.

They would later have many bitter arguments and conflicts, the first and perhaps most impactful of all being their disagreement over Actaeon, Aristaeus' firstborn son. He wanted Apollo to teach him stating that it was a normal thing for a grandfather to do but Apollo vehemently refused to have any part of Actaeon's rearing, stating that he was not his child and that it was highly inappropriate for him to educate another god's son. When Actaeon later dies, Aristaeus blames a not insignificant part of that on Apollo - something that only worsens when he learns that it was Artemis who cursed the boy and that Apollo was always aware Actaeon would die young.

Spends most of his time travelling from place to place. Doesn't really like Olympus and prefers to spend his time minding animals or tending to fields. Is on wonderful terms with Demeter and Persephone and often makes decadent exchanges of olive oil and preserved meat for exotic flowers and fruit for his bees.

Big fan of wind and percussive instruments. Never liked the kithara because of how finicky it is and far prefers the hand drums and reed flutes of his mother's country. Exceptional dancer.

Will sell prized cattle for high quality and highly unique jewellry. Doesn't much care for gemstones but is an absolute gold fiend and has a massive collection of bracelets, anklets, nose and lip adornments and rings. Has never been north enough to hit India but got a ton of rare and different adornments from his Phoenician in-laws when he was married to Autonoë.

Hates dogs but doesn't mind wolves. Not a big horse fan either

Unlike other winds, he cannot transform into various animal forms. He's close enough to the Anemoi that he keeps up with the gossip but he's only really friends with Notos. Gets along poorly with Zephyrus whose preference for pretty youths has often led to them getting into physical altercations when they were younger. Aristaeus still holds a bit of a grudge about it.

Has a big stupid crush on Dionysus which is embarrassing because Dionysus also put him out of a job. Due to Dionysus' relative youth, he feels a bit conflicted about such feelings - mostly because Dionysus is on extremely good terms with Apollo and Aristaeus doesn't want him to get burned.

Despite kinda despising his father, Aristaeus is a pretty decent eldest brother and regularly keeps in contact with a lot of his siblings. He often delivers mead, flavoured honey and olive oil and uses it as an excuse to chat and catch up. Currently in a bit of a tiff with Asclepius because he's worried about him and his family.

Favourite colour is the rich gold of purified honey, favourite food is lokma and his favourite time of year is winter.

[thieves-never-say-die]

I’ve fixed it!! End of White Collar season 3, Neal gets wind of what Kramer is trying to do so he calls up his old friend Sophie Deaveraux for help since he’s heard her team fixes this kind of thing. Then the Leverage team gets involved, digs up dirt on Kramer & publicly shames him, gets Neals sentence commuted, and Neal can keep living in New York and working for the FBI without needing his anklet!

[lemmetreatya]

Miss ma'am, Miss ma'am, I am back with another thought like it could be a lil blurd or whatever, but do you think Onyankopon got any fetish or kinks? I kinda believe he got a feet kink like the nigga loves LOVES a woman with nice ass feet and it don't matter if the feet are a size 4 or a size 13 - HE LOVES FEET! Like I can just image he's hitting it missionary style and he done hooked your legs over his muscular, chocolate shoulders and he catches sight of the gold and silver ankle bracelet he gifted you with his name on it (just cause he's cute like tht) and then his eyes are traveling to your feet and you feel him gets bigger inside of you and suddenly he's pounding you stupid cause you're just squeezing him but really it's cause he's making out with your toes, bitting the pinky toe and everything and it's so nasty and sensual that you squirt bout 3 times in a row but he's not complaining cause all that means is tht he gets to clean you up... sorry for the rant but what are your thoughts?

GIIRRRLLLLLL!!!! ykw?! it’s actually crazy because literally yesterday i was thinking that this man has a foot kink. and i never thought or looked towards a foot kink in my liiiffeee but i just know this man has it on LAWK!!

word count: 1.5k

content: afab!reader, smut, foot kink, missionary, biting, squirting, overstimulation, petnames

onyankopon loves giving you princess treatment.

we not just talking splashing big bucks on foot pedicures and spas but he just allllllways has an inclination to look after you. whether that be massaging your feet whilst you’re both laid up on the couch, his hand always finding your inner thighs during outings — heck he even be buying you those anklets and toe rings that rocky be getting for rihanna.

naturally, youd think that this was just onyankopon’s way of showing affection. but its when that man was laid up on you just underneath the covers that you realise that this was probably a bit more than just princess treatment.

“c’mere” hed mumble just above you as his arms hook underneath your thighs.

you already looked at onyankopon like he had galaxies in his eyes but its the way he always knew how to deal with you accordingly that made you weak.

“you always look so pretty like this baby, you know that?”

onyankopon continues to fuck into you at a moderate pace but now he has your knees by your ears as he uses most of his body weight to keep you folded. he bends down to give you a small peck on your lips but then takes one of your feet in hand to kiss just at the sole of your foot.

you wiggle your toes at him in small jest, a juvenile joke of some sort, but it only causes onyankopon to kiss at your feet more.

“that tickles…”

you breathe out, eyes intricately attracted to the way his lips lift off your toes as he gives it several kisses.

“mmmm.” the reply he gives is lazy, half potted, hummed. but there’s more than just galaxies behind his eyes now, there’s sensuality involved, there’s cosmoses forming.

the subtle change in onyankopon’s strokes are different. hes no longer slanging in and out of you for the pedantry of sex. there’s a switch; where suddenly he’s aiming for something thats dressed a lot like pleasure but is painted with a different face. onyankopon bends one of his knees besides you, giving himself some leverage, but now hes so intentional with how his lips praise your feet but his eyes dance over your face.

“you real pretty like this, princess.” he says again, but this time you have different answers.

“you talkin’ to me or my feet?”

you joke, your breathing not even in a good enough condition to laugh but the airy muse comes out anyways.

however, the phrase doesn’t land well with onyankopon. you can tell with how his eyes darken, with how the cosmos turn sinister and the galaxies erupt, that you were in nothing but trouble.

“watch your mouth.” is the growl that leaves his throat and that’s when everything turns inside out.

suddenly, onyankopon is speeding up his pistoning, cock growing heavier by the second as he latches your big toe inside of his mouth. its wet and its warm. not something you’d usual be akin to but its sensual enough that your moans come out pornographic.

“f-fuck…” you cry out — the change was unexpected!

onyankopon makes good effort to use your ankles as stirring posts for himself as he makes himself at home within your dewy cunt. you can tell he plans to unleash something hes never done before. his eyes told you. the way they were vividly burning with years worth of repressed expression and intent was everything you needed to know.

onyankopon unlatches his mouth from your foot.

“gonna leave you feeling…hoping you never said shit to me.” he half spits. not it malice though. no, onyankopon never spoke to you with any ill intent, but his words were venomously laced.

“o-o-ony, i..im sor’wy.”

you near cry because you’ve never felt this opened up into before, but onyankopon only leaves a bite with your toe before focusing his attention on your other foot, his lips now pressing against that one, as a reply.

but with onyankopon jackhammering into you and your lack of control in being able to squeeze your feet, everything felt so lose and so open and —

before you’re able to give a warning your squirting over onyankopon’s cock, slightly colder liquid spilling out of you every time onyankopon pulled backwards.

the man only curses slightly at your surprise, your feet planted against his cheek as he checks out your mess but it doesn’t stop him! if anything, he begins to thrust with more passion

“fuuuck, im gonna—shit!— now, im really gonna… give you sumn… to be sorry bout!”

now you can only but squeal in overstimulation, the man’s shit eating grin wide as he hyperfocuses on drilling your cunt with his cock. all you can do is whine into your arm as you let your head fall to the side.

it felt uncomfortable but in a good way because you know you had more in you and so did onyankopon.

“come on baby. need you to squirt on my dick again. gotta have you make a bigger mess, huh?”

“o-oa-o-on..nyyyy!”

words can barely leave your mouth at this point. you cant even twinkle your toes as a stim because onyankopon’s either got his mouth or hand on them. your pinkies shiny with spit, legs sticky with your cum, and now your cheeks prickling with tears of peak overstimulation via a second orgasm.

onyankopon pulls out now that you’re squirting again so that he can wash his dick with your cum. he suckles on your toes as he lays his dick against the fat of your pussy lips, your cries like music to his ears.

“eurrrgh. fuck you’re something else.” he moans over your toes but you’re too blazed out to even reply.

heart jerking whimpers leave your throat as you lay completely fucked out beneath onyankopon. the man can only look over you with a dreamy grin, the galaxies in his eyes having calmed down but now birthed with new stars and systems.

“still with me, bubba?” onyankopon lays a kiss to the sole of one of your feet before leaving his face plant against it.

you whine as an initial reply, your head reeling straight to look at him but you then realise you cant lift your head much more and so let it fall back down against the pillow.

“baby, i cant…do no more.”

as understanding as ever, onyankopon nods before leaning forwards to plant a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

“that’s okay. leave the rest to me.” which was ironic of him to say, concerning you’d done nothing but be a pillow princess the whole time.

when onyankopon slides back into your fermenting cunt, it’s an easy fit — like wearing a well melded leather glove — but you’re so sensitive that the sensation is overloading your senses.

“onyyyy”

is what you whine out. its not for him to stop but you definitely know your limits close.

“i know, i know.”

onyankopon himself seems to be closing in too because his groans are so evident now, gruff and present as he jiffers into your ear.

“gon’ sleep good tonight, mamas. gon put you right to bed.”

now hes talking like how he usually does, concerned for your wellbeing, making sure you’re being treated right. but you notice how even though his face was buried by your neck, his hand made effort to stretch out along your leg and to your foot.

you think hes gonna lift up to suck at them again but he doesn’t. instead, he just aimlessly plays with the individual toes.

as soon as he does that, his breath starts to fasten and his hips becoming more bucky in movement. onyankopon kisses at your jawline with small peppery pecks but you can tell hes nearing his limit. you help stimulate him by using your other feet to feel at his back. nothing too much concerning he was still pressing into you with a majority of his presence but you just rub at his back with the sole and heel of your foot.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

onyankopon’s thrusts become bunny like — rutty, half executed and clearly a sign of an impending orgasm.

your hand comes up to then pet at the back of his neck as you sultry moan into his ear.

“fuck, yes daddy. yeah fuck me just like that.” which seems to be enough to send him over the edge.

onyankopon calls out your name like his life depends on it before he’s pulling out — almost too late — and spurting his load onto the creases of your stomach. the man lets out a low moan as he jerks himself off on top of you, milking everything he’d experience to the last drop.

both your breathings are laboured, time and energy clearly well spent. but as onyankopon comes down from his high, you can only kitten stroke the back of his head.

“you needa start fucking me like that more often, shit…”

onyankopon but airily laughs as he looks up at you with a grin. the galaxies in his eyes are brighter than ever.

“don’t worry, i will be.” he chides, his smile wide.

[pempeeeperem]

I agree with you, Sylvia sounds to be Finn’s longest relationship and one he really wants to keep. Someone willing to sell off their high price TCG cards so their kids can go to collage without another thought is in it for the long haul.

Right? Right??

He immediately goes above and beyond once Sylvia gave him a helping hand. And sure it's friendly and out of gratefulness (or rather duty, he doesn't wanna be called a mooch), but hang out three times and Finn realises what a good deal Sylvia is.

He says so himself!

So he goes around town, strikes deals for the vendors and tells them to give Sylvia a discount. He keeps offering to buy her stuff (although I'm not sure he's all that flush with cash at the moment). He gives her useful tips for haggling.

And the thing about the cards! He buys a bunch of packs and then gifts the rare cards to her because she opened them! Honey, those are your cards!?

The fact that the guppy line comes even if you're still at 7 hearts... they've barely started dating and he wants to (ahem pun incoming) fish or cut bait. It's so sweet and so freaky at once. Neither of them have properly settled into Rafta yet, Sylvia's barely out of school... Isn't he worried he'll scare her off?

I bet if Oswald knew about that he would freak. I'm pretty sure others would also take suspicion about Finn's intentions there.

At the same time he's so shy sometimes. I thought they were immediately cuddling when watching TV, but only on the second hangout he "slowly inches closer" until he puts his arm around her giggle he's adorable

And when they make jewelry together, he makes her something out of teeth of his ancestors. Not only are those precious to him, he's involving her in his traditions and also he's making an anklet. Is it just me or is there something... more than just aesthetic vibes going on here? A bracelet would have been cute, but an anklet is rather... alluring.

In general Finn is pretty intense. When he's competing, he's leveraging any advantage he has, going as far as using intimidation tactics. Even when he's wallowing, he's wallowing so much Sylvia has trouble getting through to him. I guess it only makes sense that's he's intense when being lovey-dovey, too.

Coupled all that with his fake-it-till-you-make-it card and how crushed he was after losing and calling himself a bunch of hot air, yeah his ego is big but also fragile. After losing to Sylvia he's doubting himself so much and he's so surprised that she agrees to date... It all makes me think he might have experience in short term relationships (though it could also be blustering and he wishes he had that level of rizz) but, yup, Sylvia's seems like his first real girlfriend.

Is that because he's shady and women avoided him so far? Did he only have bad girlfriends? Is it because he's a shark? Or because he was busy hustling?

Curious, isn't he?

[kpopscruggles]

who in riize do you think would be into “setting the mood” in the bedroom? like candles, led lights, music etc? - 💐

Oooo I love this ask!!!!!

I will I’ve you my best opinion about who I think would do this!

——��-

Sungchan

You honestly should’ve know he was gonna be in this. But anyway he’s the red light, room clean, and probably for some Jacquees playin in the background. I’m those days you know he finna beat your goonies down! Hit from the back, you calling him daddy, papi, sir…you mama it.

Shotaro

I don’t see him being any different from Sungchan but there’s a lil different tweaks, he calls you shit like mamas, princess. Your riding him, he’s gripping your thighs encouraging you to go faster. Sucking your tits, leaving hickeys. Gripping your ass, any way he can touch you he’s touching you! Music taste is a mix of everything but k can see him doing more Chris brown

Anton

He’s got candles, red light, music choice is that shit you read your smut to or either something soft. Coke lights are involved but it’s purple or pink. That’s the only light on, sometimes he’ll light a candle but it’s every once in a while because he loves the color lights. He’s got you in missionary so when he gets deep in it he can kiss at your Anton mama anklet.

Sohee

music choice is probably something with Rihanna, like love on the brain, kiss it better or some Beyoncé. I feel like he’s got a secret thing for girls singing sex songs. He’s more on the candle side, I see him also doing like a cologne type smell of candle. He does color lights but probably blue. He’s also taking you in reverse cowgirl cause this dude has a thing for your back.

[normspellsman]

The Sea Gives & The Sea Takes

A “Can Only Hope” Sequel pt. 1/?

pairing(s): sully family x gender neutral!reader

genre: angst

word count: 1k+

warning(s): funeral scene

word bank: eywa/great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, atokirina/woodsprite — a seed from the tree of souls that lives on pandora, tsmuktu — sibling, irayo — thank you; thanks, & ilu— aquatic creature residing on awa’atlu used for riding

note: the first installment of the “can only hope” sequels + prequels. i have some more planned regarding the other works, possibly involving a separate fic of each of the siblings visiting the reader at the tree of souls but we’ll see. i only have lo’ak’s part done. so if you have any ideas or requests for those &/or future works, please message or comment! <3

Your funeral was beautiful.

Upon hearing of your unfortunate death, the leaders of the Metkayina, Ronal and Tonowari, and the rest of their clan began to make preparations for it. The reef people had different funeral customs than the Omatikaya, but made a conscious effort to make it somewhat similar to that of your home clan. Just a little something that you could take with you onto your way to join Eywa.

Your body was delicately wrapped and placed into a giant leaf that was able to hold your weight above the water, preventing you from sinking to the bottom.

Tsireya had gotten permission from both of your parents to do your hair for the ceremony. It was a tradition of the Metkayina to do their recently passed loved ones hair before they joined the Great Mother. It was something that she wanted to do for you, especially after all you did during your time on Awa’atlu.

Each of your siblings also wanted to do something for you before you joined the Great Mother forever. Each of them had given something to you. Neteyam had replaced your armband with his, he wearing yours. Lo’ak had taken the hair piece that he always used to tie back his hair and put it in yours, asking Tsireya if she could incorporate it into your hair somehow. Kiri had wrapped her favorite necklace around your neck. And Tuk had wrapped the anklet she was making you around your right ankle, all of your favorite shells adorning the woven material. They had wanted to give a piece of themselves to you before your body officially joined Eywa, so they’d be with you for all eternity until it was their time to join you in the afterlife.

Your Mother was at the back of the leaf that held your body, helping her eldest son push it along the surface of the water as they joined the rest of the family and members of the Metkayina.

She wished she was back home. She wished she was doing all of this the only way she knew how, the Omatikaya way. Where she would sing your song chord as her Mother chanted prayers for your soul to return safely back into the arms of Eywa. Where she would experience the comfort of her people during her mourning. Where she would place an atokirina in your open grave at the base of Home Tree. Where they would hold a celebration of your life and achievements. Neytiri just wanted the comfort of her home. Of where she grew up. Of where she had given birth to you and watched you grow up. That’s all she desired.

Many faces in the crowd were damp at the sight. Not many of them knew you, but they could feel the love that the Sully family and their Olo’eyktan’s family held for you, and so they grieved over that. Over the deep, familial love that you’ll never get to experience again. Over the young life that was lost. Over the future life you’d never get to have.

Once they reached the point where they needed to, Neytiri readied herself to slide your body out from under the leaf.

But before she was completely able to, her children stopped her, wanting one more chance to see your face or touch your azure skin.

Neteyam was the first to approach you, turning around from the front of the leave that held you.

He gently touched your face, running a finger over the faintest scar that rested underneath your eye, smiling fondly at the memory that flashed in his head. Neteyam slightly bent down to rest his lips against the crown of your hair, “Rest well, ma tsmuktu,” he whispered against your azure skin, gently kissing where his lips rested upon.

He thought the whole thing was bittersweet. You had worked so hard to protect the people and your family, being successful in your tribulations. It was your job as the eldest sibling to do so. And now it was Neteyams. You passing on the baton to him. He promised to do as you did. Protect the ones you loved until your very last breath.

Then, it was Lo’ak who approached your still body.

He had glided up to the side of the leaf, putting one hand on your forearm and the other on your cheek. He shakingly smiled down at your peaceful form, almost believing that you were just asleep and not actually dead. Almost.

Lo’ak had made sure to wear every single piece of jewelry you made him over the years, there barely being any room on his forearms due to the sheer amount he was wearing. The recent you had attempted at making him was tied to his left wrist, on the hand that gently rested on your cheek. It was far from finished, the weaving pattern stopping at the middle and the beads were slightly uneven. When he entered your side of the marui and saw the bracelet you were making for him, it made him sob once more. He felt so guilty, so sad. You were no longer here to offer your comfort or to tease him. But he still felt your presence wherever he went, especially if he had one of your bracelets on.

No matter how many bracelets Lo’ak managed to pack onto his arms, he still felt the gaping hole in his heart that only your presence could fill. He doesn’t think anything on Pandora, or in the universe, could fill up the hole you left behind. You were Lo’ak’s favorite sibling, of course there was going to be a hole in your absence. He would never admit that you were his favorite sibling, but everyone knew. Everyone knew.

“Irayo, tsmuktu,” Lo’ak muttered, rubbing your forearm softly, “For everything.”.

Neytiri had decided now was the best moment to remove you from the leaf, taking you into her arms as you floated against the light current of the waves.

You were so quiet. Neytiri doesn’t think you had been more quiet in your life. Of course your lack of noise wasn’t purposeful or your doing. But she still couldn’t help but feel bothered by your silence. You were quite a fussy child, becoming even more rowdy as you grew and time went on. That’s what Neytiri loved about you. You never changed much or grew out of your childhood habits. She frowned at her realization of you being so quiet. It was a stark difference from your usual personality, making everything more real, more painful. She finds herself straining to hear your little giggle whenever you played around with the family, pretending to be asleep when you weren’t. But her sensitive ears pick up nothing, frowning at the reality that you’d never make a sound again.

Jake had glided up besides his wife, aiding her in floating your body.

Tonowari had explained to Jake the Metkayina’s funeral process and what it would entail. He and Neytiri would swim down to the bottom of the ocean, towards the glowing orange tendrils on the seafloor. The Olo’eyktan explained that once your body made contact with the tendrils, they would welcome you in a warm embrace, slowly and gently wrapping themselves around your whole body until no hint of skin was left. Finally pulling you down into itself as you became one.

To be frank, Jake was not ready to do all of this. He wanted, no needed more time with you. With his eldest. You were his first child and you’d always hold a special place in his heart, but it wouldn’t be the same anymore. There’d always be that void that followed him around. He felt as if he should’ve done more. That maybe if he didn’t run from Quaritch, you’d still be alive and breathing in his arms. Maybe if he tried harder to be a better Father, then you’d still be here.

Just as Jake and Neytiri were passing by their youngest children, Tuk stopped them, putting her forehead against your cheek, softly kissing it as she pulled away. Kiri copied her movements, running her hand through your braided hair only before pulling herself away from your body. Spider stayed where he was next to Kiri’s ilu, too afraid to approach your body and pay his respects. Not that he didn’t want to. He just didn’t know what to do at this exact moment. Everything was so confusing, especially after saving Quaritch minutes after witnessing the life leave your eyes. He didn’t even know why he did it. He had no explanation as to why. He felt out of place. Like he didn’t deserve to be present at your funeral.

“It’s time, Neytiri,” Jake softly spoke, putting his bruised hand onto his wifes delicately painted face, gently rubbing her cheekbone in hopes to comfort her. Burying your child was never an easy feat. Jake wanted to be there for his wife. Wanted to be her crutch to lean on. But, he too was barely hanging on.

Neytiri only nodded at her husband's words, taking a deep breath before diving down into the water, carrying your body in her four fingered hands.

Jake followed his wife shortly after, knots forming in his stomach as the orange glowing tendrils came into view, swaying back and forth from the current.

Placing your body onto the tendrils was something neither parent wanted to do. Watching as your body slowly floated downwards and made contact with the tendrils made Jake want to reach out to you and bring you into his chest. Watching as the tendrils started to wrap themselves around your form and practically swallow you whole made Jake want to cry out. He found himself yearning to have your own burial site, so he could go back to visit you. But this wasn’t Earth and he wasn’t back with the Omatikaya. The Metkayina did things differently and he had to respect that, even if it meant not being able to visit your grave whenever he wanted to.

From the water's surface, the remaining Sullys watched as you were swallowed by the mass of tendrils and finally became one with the Great Mother, body and spirit.

Kiri and Spider held hands as they watched. Kiri felt her eyes sting from the tears pricking at her waterline, mixing in with the seawater. Spider only blankly stared at your slowly disappearing body, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Neteyam curled in on himself as he floated there, almost copying your fetal stance you were put into in order to be wrapped in preparation for your funeral.

Lo’ak had reached out towards you, sobbing into the water as bubbles erupted from around him, water seeping into his lungs from the action.

And Tuk couldn’t bring herself to watch, instead finding comfort in watching the ilu’s float in their place.

Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Rotxo only continued to cry silent tears as they watched from afar. The glowing light of the ocean floor becoming brighter as it absorbed your body, dimming out slightly, a telltale sign that you were now with the Great Mother for all eternity.

The whole night felt surreal, even afterwards.

No one uttered a signal word in the Sully’s marui pod, sitting in silence as everyone processed what occurred only hours prior.

The sea gives and the sea takes.

The sea gave the Sully’s a new home but as a result, took a small part of them as the price.

[magiklookbook]

It's been a while so I might as well post Kaya's lookbook from her last three date nights! Something grown, sexy and stylish. Enjoy! ((Anything that's crossed out is either perma-paywalled or the link no longer exists)) 1. hair /necklace / dress + coat / heels / purse / rings 2. hair / necklace / dress / stockings / anklet / heels / purse 3. hair / necklace / dress / boots / coat (accessory)

cas background by breezytrait reshade also by breezytrait poses by helgatisha ♡ find future lookbooks by me here shoutout to all the creators involved. i couldnt have done this without you! ♡♡♡♡♡

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[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil’s Supreme Court convicts 371 for January 8 attacks

Over the past two years, Brazil’s Federal Supreme Court has convicted 371 of the more than 2,000 individuals investigated for their involvement in the January 8, 2023, coup attacks. The update was released on Tuesday (Jan. 7) by Justice Alexandre de Moraes' office, the rapporteur for the cases. To date, 225 of the convicts have been classified as having committed serious crimes.

The defendants’ sentences range from 3 to 17.5 years in prison. On January 8, 2023, 2,172 individuals were arrested in connection with the attacks on the Three Powers Square in Brasília.

The convictions encompass five crimes: attempting to abolish the democratic rule of law, coup attempt, aggravated damage, criminal association, and destruction of public property.

Incitement and criminal association were deemed lesser offenses. In these cases, 146 individuals were convicted but not imprisoned. Instead, they must wear electronic anklets for a year, pay fines, complete 225 hours of community service, and attend an in-person course on democracy.

Continue reading.

[naavispider]

Hi! What do you think the reaction of the scientists and Sullys would be if Spider, after being tortured, started acting like a human, eschewing the Na'vi's old ways? I mean, deep down he has some kind of trauma that makes him unable to go back to his old ways for fear of being tortured for it. I'm especially interested in the reactions of Kiri and Loak, although Jake and Neytiri's reaction interests me as well. Have a nice day/night!

This is a sad one because they'd notice how he wears clothes now, keeps his hair short, but there's not a lot they could actually do about it. Sure, they'd probably talk to him and ask about it, but in this scenario Spider closes down. He doesn't want to tell them what he went through, even if he could find the words. So they just sort of... have to accept it. Do you know who I think would be the first adult Spider opens up to?

Norm. It's Norm.

Firstly, Norm is a human and was probably the most involved person to raise him (outside of those useless McCoskers or whatever their names are). Spider needs someone close to eventually talk to about the conditioning he went through. Norm is steady, reliable, and kind. He is a safe person.

But what about Jake? He used to be human? Secondly, Spider does not completely idolise Norm like he does Jake. It's kind of on the edge of hero-worshipping to be honest, which adds a whole nother layer to their possible attempt at a father-son relationship. Can you ever really open up to somebody that you hero-worship, in a meaningful way? I'm not sure, maybe. But Spider is already close with Norm, so to me he is the obvious choice.

I think he'd tell Kiri first, whose eyes would fill with tears and she'd immediately encourage him to tell Jake. I think he would, with her support. She'd be super hurt that he no longer wears the anklet she made him, never wanted the new beads she carved for him, wouldn't wear the tooth necklace that Tonowari gifts him. Worst of all, he wouldn't wear his stripes again.

Kiri would miss helping him with the Yovo berry juice. She'd miss the intimacy, the carelessness of it. Spider had been gone for so long, and now she finally had him back... he was so different. She would confide in Lo'ak, who shares her concerns. Together, they decide to try and talk to him again.

"Bro, what's wrong? Why do you wear SkyPeople clothes now? Why don't you want your stripes?"

Spider's easy going smile slid off his face. "I'm just not into it anymore, bro. Leave it."

As for Neytiri? Idk, I feel like she'd just try and ignore him, obviously feeling a little bit guilty, but what good could she do now? Spider didn't even want to talk to his best friends, there's literally no point her even trying. She lets Kiri, Lo'ak, Jake and even Norm deal with it.

Spider's scars from the bleach are easily seen, and no one knows how he got them, but they couldn't imagine how depraved the explanation truly was. How brave he had to be, and just how loyal he proved himself.

[fennthetalkingdog]

I feel like a dog that's been hanging around with housecats so long that I've grown up acting like them. I've always been a dog, and so I still have some of my own body language, but I've adopted so much catness that it feels almost just as much an intrinsic part of me. I still wag my tail according to dog rules, but I know when to switch; I slow blink to show my affection too; I've spent so long making myself small that I almost don't know how to accommodate my lanky body. In regards to my humanness, I draw cats better than I draw dogs; I've spent so much time in the Warrior cats fandom making characters and Clans and learning cat anatomy that when I try to draw a dog, my pencil makes them look short and fluffy with short legs and round stomachs. I can barely draw a dog from the side and have it look like one. I'm not just a dog—I identify almost as much with cats as I do with dogs. But I still am one. My jaws look a bit too big and my legs a bit too long. When I move without trying, I'm a bit too fast and graceless. I've spent my life hanging around cats, and it shows, but my dogness is just as undeniable.

I have a similar feeling about my humanness. Disregarding the fact that humanity has perks that I like too, I've just spent so long in this form that it's just as strong a part of me. I want to show my dogness, but not if it involves me throwing away my humanity. I can play with the other dogs, but at the end of the day, I stand back on two legs and go home to type on the computer and eat with a fork and spoon. I wouldn't throw away my grandmas' cooking, my lofted bed, or my bracelets and anklets. I wouldn't throw away all the memories I've made as a "human." So even when I'm not all human now, I don't want to leave that all behind.