#who always gets bullied

[jello-bbq]

Oel Nga'ti Kameie

(Platonic! Tsu'tey x Avatar! Reader) (Platonic! Jake x Avatar! Reader)

Jake is not the only avatar the Omaticaya decide to take a chance on. A failed government experiment must also prove themselves alongside him. Will this prove too much for an already overflowing cup? Will their insanity be cured? Or will they spiral further with Tsu'tey as the one assigned by Mo'at to teach them?

Listen. I know the child as the government experiment with an obviously traumatic backstory who also has frequent nosebleeds is so overused but it had to be done.

Part 2

They had only meant to observe. To watch. To guard Grace and Norm as they took a few samples from the trees. And yet here they were, stuck on top of a tree. How had they gotten there?

Fuck if they know.

Jake had been playing with some plants, motioning them over when he'd seen them watching curiously.

Without hesitation, they followed, barely dipping their hand into the curved divots before the plant shrunk. It had brought out a laugh from both of them. "Fun, right?"

And then it wasn't. The plants reacted in chains, all plunging in a way that had them laugh again. Jake raised his gun, aiming behind them.

When they turned, a large creature stared right at them. They reached for their gun.

"Don't shoot!"

The creature did not break eye contact, and neither did they as Grace continued.

"Trust me marine, you cannot pierce that hide. You'll only piss it off. Don't run either, stand your ground."

They felt it more than heard it. The tension lowering every so slightly as Jake put the gun down. Or at least they hoped he did, because they could only take so much of knowing a gun was at their back.

The creature snorted, swinging its large head and smashing the nearby trees. Cracking sounds filled the air. Wood splintering to fine pieces.

Grace was still talking in a low voice, sharing facts that certainly did not help the threat of being crushed to mush. Or their spine splintering like the trees had.

As they stared they felt something in their gut. Instinct. A feeling telling them to act on it. And so they did, stepping forward and hissing at the large creature, hammerhead tita-something, Grace had said.

The 'angtsik stepped back ever so slightly, letting out an almost relenting snort. Iridescent fans flared out at each side of its large flat head and it bucked forward, showing that it would not give up so easily.

That seemed to spur Jake on. He ran out from behind them, waving his hands in the air and yelling as he did.

That made the 'angtsik halt, fans folding back. It bowed slightly and turned.

Jake laughed, unbelieving that it actually worked. "Yeah, that's right! Who's bad?" He whooped, yelling at the creatures retreating backs. "That's what I'm talking about, bitch!"

They shook their head, smiling. You'd almost believe there were two children on this mission.

The victory was short-lived.

As Jake went to shout more curse words, they felt a prickle at the back of their neck. They ducked. Just in time to catch a glimpse of something black flying over Jake's head.

"What about this one?" Jake rushed, raising his gun again. This time, they followed his lead and raised their own.

The new creature turned to them. This one was smaller, but something about it screamed that it was more dangerous. They say prey should know how to identify a predator. "Run, don't run? What?"

"Run! Definitely run."

And so they did. The palulukan fell behind them, choosing to go after Jake, but they didn't know that. No, every echoing footstep rattled behind them. It was close. It was gaining. Its teeth were just inches from their neck.

Maybe it was the new environment. Or the lab experiments fresh in their mind. Perhaps another defect to add to the list. But they fully believed the palulukan stayed right at their heels.

Instinct took over reason. Screaming that every sound in the forest was the palulukan after them.

Nothing made sense after that. And so, they woke up in a tree. How had they even fallen asleep? Where was the palulukan?

They felt too tired to ask. Cogs in their brain freezing together as their surroundings sunk in.

Pandora. At night.

A beauty they had never seen. Until now.

Bioluminescent moss clung to the branches. When they peered over the edge of the tree, the glow dotted the forest floor below. A constellation shining so brightly it drowned out the sky.

They almost made their way down, startled instead by some small animals huffing around in the undergrowth.

A bit too late, they noticed the lack of a gun. Nothing to defend themselves with but a knife tucked away in their boot. And so they decided not to push their luck. They stayed in the trees. Trying their best to weave through the forest on the branches, but their best clearly could not compare.

As they tried to gather the courage to jump from one branch to another, they didn't hear the rustling in the trees.

"Come on," they muttered, trying not to get distracted by their glowing surroundings. Or else they'd never make it out of the forest. That sounded agreeable still.

A figure in the shadows, cleverly hidden, draws its bow. A clear shot at one of the Sky People that dared to roam in fake forms. There is no hesitation, and his grip almost loosens before a different glow fills the air.

Startled, the figure stares at the atokirina. Seeds of Home Tree. Sacred to Eywa. It flits right over the blade of his arrow, still aimed for the killing shot. It moves up the carved wood and rests in the air in front of him as if making sure it would be seen and understood.

And he has no time to dwell on it as the seed flies away, accompanied by the sounds of what could only be a person falling to the ground.

They had fallen. Slipped on a patch of moss as they ran forward for a headstart. So much for staying off the forest floor. "Fucking hell," they grumbled, wiping a bit of shining moss from their face.

It isn't long before they notice. Figures surrounded them. In the haze, they can hardly tell, but they all hold something sharp-looking and shiny, pointed straight at them.

It is also instinct to raise their hands. A fleeting show of peace as they stand slowly, blinking fast to get the blur out of their sight. Were they crying because the fall hurt? "I'm-" they try, words catching in their throat as one of them moves forward.

Clearly the leader of what appeared to be a hunting party. He sits tall on the direhorse. Imposing. Demanding respect. Arrow drawn directly at their heart.

"Why do you venture into our lands?" He asks, and it shocks them for only a moment that they could understand the words.

"I didn't mean to, I got lost-"

The Na'vi scoffs. "Of course, you are lost." He leans in slightly, if only to dig the tip of the arrow against her collarbone. "You Sky People are in 𝘰𝘶𝘳 home."

They say nothing. For what can you say against the truth? Nothing. So they take a different route. They step forward.

The Na'vi on the direhorses shift, holding their bows tighter, pulling at the strings more. They see it even as they keep their eyes on the one in front of them.

The blade pierces skin and in the light the shade of red is beautiful. However, no one pays attention.

"Kill me then." The words aren't said lightly. They carry a weight that the leader almost reaches to understand. "I am one of the Sky People, shoot me."

Four fingers grip the string tighter. Golden eyes narrow, and again he finds himself nearly releasing the killing blow.

This time, he is not interrupted by one atokirina. This time, they flood into the small clearing.

Their eyes widen in awe. No idea of the situation's weight. Not knowing anything but whispers of prayer, a soft exclamation of wonder. They don't understand why breaths hitch when one touches their hand. Or why the bows drop to their sides when more start to find their way to them.

One hovers over the wound on their chest, still dribbling crimson. It hovers as if in disapproval, then moves to fly in front of the Na'vi whose arrow made the cut. Hugf

They stand painfully still, afraid to move and scare them away. Though they still did not know what they were. Or why they were here.

The moment is beautiful while it lasts, but eventually one starts on its way, and they all do. They leave behind nothing. Nothing but the memory of their feather-like touches.

Only then do they notice how much the air has changed. There is still the tension, now more of a background note as confusion takes the lead. "What?"

Something is said in Na'vi, a quick beat of words. An order.

The words prick at their brain. A feeling all too familiar. But they have no time to dwell on it as arms grasp them and they are hoisted up onto a direhorse.

It is instinct again that has them wrap their arms around the one in front of them, who they recognize immediately by the way he grunts.

When they deign to pull away and take their chances, the Na'vi speaks. "Do not move unless you want to fall off."

And with that, the direhorse is rushing through the trees.

Their hands tighten at the sudden movement, a leaf slapping them in the face. A slight rumble felt in their fingers has them sure that was intentional. Though there is no time to hold a grudge.

The forest whips past them, a blur of color that has their head spinning in the best way. It isn't long before the gallop slows to a casual trot and the blurs turn into figures. Plants, trees, large arches of roots. A soft stream here and there.

The beauty isn't lost on them, their head swiveling to try and take it all in. Hair flies everywhere. The Na'vi they cling onto grunts again and despite wanting to mouth off, they shut up and move slower.

They'd love it if the plants were the last things they would ever see, and they were sure they would be.

The hunters were taking them somewhere a body could be disposed of easily. And that body would be theirs.

Pain courses through their shoulder. A flash of color accompanies it, a moment of red. The feeling is so clear that they flinch, turning sharply.

"Stop that," commands the Na'vi in front of him, "𝘴𝘬𝘹𝘢𝘸𝘯𝘨." The last part is added under his breath.

Briefly, they wonder if the Na'vi had hit them. But their shoulder remains untouched. No sign of crimson, not even of the pain they'd felt just a moment before.

No, they knew what it was. The ever so present hauntings of her past.

To some people, the past haunts through unrelenting memories. You see something, anything, and are somehow reminded of the past.

To them, memories had nothing. The past haunted them with aches. By brushes of searing pain, echoing all that they had ever felt before. And their life had plenty of pain to portray.

A cry signals their arrival. Drums follow, welcoming the hunting party back. The sound brings them back, and the pain is almost completely forgotten as they stare.

Roots so tall they resembled mountains. Sheets of glowing moss coating everything in soft light.

Hometree, standing tall and proud. Crafted so beautifully by Eywa. The love of the people almost tangibly flowing through it. If there were words to describe the sheer awe in face of it, they had yet to learn to them.

The same people gather, sneering as they realize meat isn't the only thing the hunters have brought back. And the avatar is reminded it is not their place to be in awe.

"Demon," some of them hiss, making sure to say it in English.

They realize they still hold tight against the Na'vi, and releases their grip. The horse moves slowly enough that they do not fall off.

The crowd follows, even as they dismount and weave through them, pulled along to the Olo'eyktan.

When they reach the front they meet the eye of Jake, who mirrors the look of confusion. Jake is being pulled through the crowd as well, and the crowd reacts similarly.

"𝘖𝘦𝘭 𝘕𝘨𝘢'𝘵𝘪 𝘒𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘦, 𝘖𝘭𝘰'𝘦𝘺𝘬𝘵𝘢𝘯."

Their attention turns back to the conversation happening beside them. They know the greeting but hold off, thinking they would not take kindly to it seeing as they were a demon.

"𝘖𝘦𝘭 𝘕𝘨𝘢'𝘵𝘪 𝘒𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘦, 𝘛𝘴𝘶'𝘵𝘦𝘺."

The foreign language itches at their brain. They try to fight the feeling, knowing what is next, hoping that they can hold it off.

Jake is pushed alongside them as the greeting is returned. They spot the Na'vi who had been pulling him. For a moment the itch stops. She had moved to stand a bit farther away, which piqued their interest.

Especially as the other Na'vi, Tsu'tey, keeps his grip on their forearm firm. His other hand held a spear as if ready to plunge it into their chest at a moment's notice.

"𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴?"

The words are forcing their way in. Squirming as the itch intensifies. And their efforts at repression are futile. Their eyes clamp shut. Information floods the front of her mind. Phrases. Words. Infixes. Crowding their thoughts and drowning them out.

Only Jake seems to notice, trying to hide his concern. "You okay?"

It lasts a second but feels longer. Like time had slowed and each millisecond brought more pain. And then they understand, but the pain doesn't go away. Like needles piercing through bone.

They understand the previous words now, even with the fog of pain.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦." The words are solid, unmoving. Tsu'tey clearly thinks the same as he struggles to spit out words to say otherwise.

They were curious too. They had almost accepted that they were to be shot and thrown off a cliff far away. Instead, they were here. At the very heart of the Omaticaya.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘌𝘺𝘸𝘢." It is the other Na'vi that speaks up.

"𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦! 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦!"

Absentmindedly, they sniff the air. This does not go unnoticed by Tsu'tey, whose glare and grip become firmer.

"𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘛𝘴𝘶'𝘵𝘦𝘺."

"What's going on?"

For a moment, the English sounds foreign. Their brain falters, like it has been worked to overdrive and is sputtering to cool down. Which, they suppose, is exactly what it is.

The pain starts to subside, slowly, as if it doesn't want to leave. And they are reminded of what comes next. The blood. This time, they know they have to hide it. They sniff.

"My father is deciding whether to kill you."

The blood begins to drip.

"Your father?" Jake moves from their side. "Nice to meet you sir-" Instantly he is surrounded. Spears surround him, the hunters hissing as the blades glint.

Tsu'tey is among those that stepped forward to threaten his life.

They sniff again. The blood drips.

"𝘌𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩!" A voice rings out. "𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘴."

Everyone turns, and the distraction is enough for them to wipe at their nose, their hand coming back with a smudge of crimson. No one notices, hopefully.

The pain has dulled enough that they can look up and see the one approaching them. Her gaze is severe.

"That is Mother. She is Tsahik- the one who interprets the will of Eywa." The Na'vi speaks softly, bending down as if worshiping the ground to be walked on when the Tsahik draws near.

"Who's Eywa?"

They tap at Jake's hand, shaking their head lightly without looking at him. How was he so stupid?

The Tsahik stops in front of them, looking at them in disdain. "What are you called?"

"Jake Sully."

An expectant look is thrown their way and they almost ask why before Jake says their name for them.

"Do you not speak?" The following gase seems even harsher. Or do you not wish to?

She moves to them first, procuring a long thorn and noting the wound tracing just below their collarbone. They don't flinch as the thick edge of the thorn comes up to trace it. Quickly, harshly.

Their blood is tasted, and she moves on to Jake, striking his chest with a flourish. The sharp end is brought to her lips this time, and his blood is tasted as well.

He hopes Jake is smart enough not to comment.

"Why have you come to us?"

They decide to leave the talking to Jake. He was better at that. Besides, they were fighting the next drop of blood slowly making its way down their nostril.

"We came to learn."

"We have tried to teach other Skypeople. It is hard to fill a cup which is already full."

They almost react at that. Their captors had certainly tried. And succeeded, his mind reminded him.

"My cup is empty, trust me. Ask Dr. Augustine, hell, ask them. I'm no scientist."

"What are you?"

They brush a finger under their nose, hoping to play it off as natural.

"I don't know," he faltered. "I was a Marine- a uh, a warrior. Of the Jarhead clan."

That almost has them snort. Tsu'tey laughs outright. "𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳! 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺!"

"And you?" All reaction ceases as the Na'vi look to them.

"I was-" they clear their throat. "I am also a warrior." An oversimplification, sure. But they did not feel like baring all the nuances of what they were.

More reactions. Jeering. Laughing. "𝘏𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘴!"

"𝘕𝘰!" That one word is enough to silence all reactions. The Olo'eyktan speaks again. "𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯. And the first child. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦."

"What's going on?"

"𝘋𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰."

She goes to retort but the Tsahik turns to Tsu'tey, effectively cutting her off.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸." She turns back to her daughter, conveying the same message.

They feel Tsu'tey would argue if he could. But instead, his gaze hardens, not even trying to plead like the other.

Finally, she turns to them. They almost don't notice, another drop of blood slowly creeping down. "You will be taught the ways of the people."

The sound fades momentarily, as if someone's turned down the volume. Thankfully, she is talking to Jake and when she speaks again, the words are clear. "Tsu'tey will teach you. Learn well. We will see if your insanity can be cured." She gives them both a final look before turning away.

Staring at her retreating back, they wipe at their nose again. More crimson.

[captainjonnitkessler]

>Join a union

>Hear people constantly complaining that the current union leadership is super corrupt, it's all just the same ten guys making all the decisions in secret and nobody else in the union ever gets to know what's going on

>Go to the monthly union meetings that are completely open to all 1200 union members

>The only attendees are the same ten guys every month, giving detailed reports about everything that's going on

[florallylly]

less steve harrington "i try to be a good guy despite my past" and more steve harrington "i've always been a good person (albeit probs annoying asf), you just stereotyped me based on my interest in sports"

[itscherryterry-again]

yea

[thecosmopossum]

Perks of being a 7th tall robot/animatronic:

you can bully your coworker for being "short"

[topnotchquark]

Nico saying that Lewis gives his daughters boxes of presents every Christmas just got caught in my mind.

Imagine you were a mixed race boy born in Hertfordshire, different from everyone else around you. Bullied in school, being raised by your father to compete in a sport where money is very much of essence and you and your family do not have a lot of it. And then you meet this other boy who comes from the kind of life you dream to live one day. You're friends and fierce competitors. You find solace in each other. You visit Monaco for the first time with your friend, dreaming up the life you will have when you make it, when you beat out of the mould that the world thought it could capture you in.

And then you two grow through the ranks and you're at the pinnacle of your sport and you have what it takes to win and the world recognises that you can win. And you win. You win with your friend and fiercest competitor by your side fighting with you for those wins, and this fighting ruins something something that was valuable to both of you when you were still innocent and unsullied by life.

But despite everything that went into the doing and undoing of this relationship, you still realise that this person you once called a friend has a life and family beyond your bitter dynamic. He has children, and children need love and affection and good memories. And you're a better man now so you understand that. So you make sure the kids get gifts on Christmas. And you make sure of it every year. Afterall, if you met someone you loved deeply when you were both kids, wouldn't you feel a pang of nostalgia when they had kids. Wouldn't you try to extend the warmth that you couldn't find for your friend to his children. Afterall, whatever happens during childhood basically remains with you forever.

[cerealmonster15]

i want jamiazu + idikei to go on a double date so badly i think the vibes would be So Very Turbulent

[nikomedes]

labru this chilshi that. all i want is a post-dungeon fanfic where kabru wakes up late at night and chilchuck is in his room and gives him a shovel talk about hiring scab labor (mickbell and kuro)

[relicsongmel]

AA fandom has a strange tendency to pretend like Ema's canon crush on Miles doesn't exist (at least from what I've seen) but none of you will ever be able to convince me that Ema doesn't have dozens of Miles Edgeworth x Reader fics on her AO3. You only hate me because you know I'm right

[sopuu]

some petras! haven’t drawn her in a while

[cheatingtime]

[mikkeneko]

watching Jiang antis go, as a Scum Villain reader, never ceases to be kind of wild

[ham1lton]

[shortnotsweet]

all bets are off [1/3]

Lucemond High School AU drabble [part 2], She’s All That (1999)

“Am I a bet? Am I a bet, am I a fucking bet?”

“Yes.” It comes out quietly, which makes it all the worse. Luke would have expected Aemond to sneer and look down his long nose at him like the Hightower side of the family had for most of their lives. Luke wishes he would. It would have made it easier. Aemond’s face reflects no relish, or even satisfaction. Instead, it is pale and unreadable. Fitting, perhaps; as it turns out, Luke had read him wrong this entire time.

“Would you have told me before it was over? Before you humiliated me in public?”

The silence speaks for itself.

“Alright,” he scoffs, “that’s it, then.” The bitterness in his voice has an unfamiliar edge, and it sounds mean even to Luke, but it’s right. That’s how he feels. “You played your little game, you had your fun. I get it. It’s over.”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s not over.”

“It is if I say it is. I don’t want anything from you, and you—you can shut up about debts, or what I owe you. We don’t have to know each other after this.” It’s true; they don’t have any classes together. They run in the same circles but that’s nothing some convenient maneuvering and strategic avoidance can’t fix. Their sides of the family voluntarily meet up for a miserable dinner once every three months and holidays. Luke can make it work.

Aemond’s remaining eye widens and his mouth thins. His face is readable now, at least; he’s livid. In a second, he lunges forward and grabs ahold of Luke’s wrist, trying to drag him back towards himself, to reel him in like he had all those months ago. Luke digs his heels into the ground instinctively, bracing away from the pressure. Luke used to like how big Aemond’s hands were in comparison to his own—the encompassing warmth, the difference in size—but now his grip tightens and locks like a handcuff, squeezing Luke’s wrist to the point of crushing. It hurts. He’s hurting him. Aemond is older and bigger than Luke, he always has been, and now he presses in like a storm cloud blocking out a clear sky.

“Luke, it wasn’t—it started like that, alright? It was like that in the beginning, but not now. It’s different now, I’m not—just look at me!” There’s something frantic in his words, the way he hovers over Luke like his shadow alone will cage him in. This isn’t the first time Aemond has struck the flight instinct in him, or the urge to fight, but it resonates through Luke’s core nonetheless. There is too much of him near. “I would’t have told you because there’s nothing to tell, not anymore.” Luke cranes his neck to peer over Aemond’s shoulder, searching out the best escape route. “It’s not over. You don’t mean that. We just…this is a rough patch, that’s all. It doesn’t matter how it started, it matters what it is. It’s good now, isn’t it? I’m good for you, I can be whatever you need, I’ll keep you happy. You like me, right? I know you do. I know you like me. Just get in the car, and we’ll talk about this later. Not now. Not like this. Look at me, don’t—don’t be like this. Luke.”

“I’m going home.”

“No. It’s late. You’re going back with me.”

“Let go.”

“Not until you listen.”

“Get off of me,” he snarls, launching himself backwards and ripping out of Aemond’s grasp. “Don’t touch me.” Aemond rears back at this rejection.

“Who else is going to do it? Lonely little Luke, eating lunch alone. Stupid, useless, weak. Can’t play sports, can’t speak in Debate Club, Mommy pays his tuition. He almost wets his pants when someone pulls the fire alarm. Who else is going to touch you, other than me?” Aemond’s mouth curls into a grin; he’s done it before, all sly and cruel. It looks ugly. He never changed, did he? How did Luke never see it before? “You didn’t fuck, didn’t drink at house parties, didn’t go to the beach past bedtime—hell, you probably never rode in a car without buckling the seatbelt. You were so eager for it, and I took you so easily. No one else could do that. No one else can touch you now, not like I can.”

It would have been true five months ago. Poor, common-looking Luke, who blended in with the walls, kept his head down, and startled at car alarms. That Luke was surrounded by gems, by brothers and uncles and friends who excelled at something, who carved names out for themselves. The Luke from five months ago would have balked at this, would have shrunk into himself and cowed to the truth. That Luke thought no one watched him, but he would’ve known if he just looked up. The Luke from now knows what the truth is, for the first time, and it’s nothing that comes out of Aemond’s mouth. Luke knows himself better than he ever has, and knows Aemond like he never wanted to before.

“I don’t think that’ll be any trouble, Uncle. Don’t worry about me,” Luke snorts out without thinking. “If I need someone to give me a ride, it won’t have to be you.” It doesn’t. It won’t. “I can buckle my own seatbelt; better yet, someone else can buckle it for me.” The uncle in question stills.

“Say that again.” He blinks, a curious expression settling over his features. “Say that again.”

“I said, it doesn’t have to be you. Other people will touch me. You’re not the only one around here with a working dick and something to prove. You lost an eye, not an ear. I should’t have to repeat myse—” before he can even finish the sentence, Aemond grabs him again, fingers curling over his shoulders like talons. Luke’s breath stops in his throat. Aemond’s face is so close they could kiss. Instead of leaning into it like he might have a few hours ago, Luke cringes backwards. Never again. The wounded expression on Aemond’s face gives him some satisfaction, but then his mouth morphs into a snarl and Luke would bet anything—his mother’s money, his own life, or whatever Aemond must’ve taken when he made that bet in the first place—that both of his eyes are glowing right now. The prosthetic below the patch shines like a jewel in its socket anyway, but the working eyeball in his head works furiously, searching across Luke’s face for something.

“What did you say, you little shit?�� Aemond seethes. “Is there someone else? You have someone else, you were thinking about someone else?” he hisses into Luke’s face and furiously shakes him like a child would a broken toy. “Who is it?” he demands, sounding desperate now. “When? Is it Stark? Aegon? Greyjoy, that waterlogged rat? Daeron? Did one of them touch you—did you let them? Did they kiss you? Tell me, you fucking bastard.” Luke tells him the truth.

“That’s not your business anymore.”

“Not my business? Not—hah, not my business?” He’s so angry he’s spitting. “Of course it’s my business. It always has been. You’ve always—always, there’s never been a time when—you little idiot. Don’t you get it? You’re mi—”

Luke slaps him.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive never liked powerless saiki aus because the entire conclusion of the series is him accepting his powers as being a part of him that he cant change so like.. in aus where the power remover works, half of his development is erased..

if he had been "powerless" for longer, we wouldve gotten to see him realize this himself and im genuinely sad that we didnt.. we got to see him realize that being powerless wasnt the change he wished it would be and that its something he cant change, but its literally over a two day long period and we miss out on sooo much potential development..

and then in aus where hes born powerless, people think he would have the exact personality and development that he THOUGHT he would if he got rid of/didnt have his powers, like NO ? "without powers he would be another satou-" NO he would be a shy, borderline flamboyant, weird, awkward, genius LOSER.

he would have a more normal relationship with his brother (still probably competitive but in a way more average sibling way and kusuke wouldnt have had the motivation to become so murderous) and he would probably be even more friendless but with less trauma.. he may or may not have ever befriended akechi at all, and the classroom incident wouldnt have happened.. even some of his current friends might not be around if not for coincidences due to his powers or direct involvement from his powers.. (nendo and kaido would for sure still be there though, but this only ensures the idea that he would be the biggest fcking loser ever)

he would still be saiki, but. his powers are a key part of him. he would be totally different without them, but NOT in the way he thinks he would..

[fromtheseventhhell]

"It's normal for siblings to fight" Okay well it's not normal to be extremely classist and look down on your sister for being non-conforming. Or to go to the woman who ordered the death of your pet to tell her about your father's plans, when he specifically warned you against doing so, because you want to marry the boy you saw attack your sister and her friend (contributing partially to said father's death and your sister being unable to escape on the ship he chartered). Or to think of your sibling as unsatisfactory in comparison to another when you believe her to be dead. I notice that none of the "Sansa and Arya are going to reunite and instantly have no issues" crowd ever acknowledge any of this, which makes it seem like they don't actually believe what they say about their relationship being normal and easily reconciled. People wanting them to have no issues simply because they're siblings is another example of how fandom likes to flatten complex characters and relationships. They get reduced to being bickering siblings when their conflict runs deeper than that. If the author is telling you that they have "deep issues" to work out [X], I don't understand being so adamant about ignoring said issues. I also get the sense it's about ignoring the capacity for a certain character to be flawed, but that isn't going to change the fact that her "slip of the tongue" is very likely to be revealed and a source of further conflict 🤷🏾‍♀️