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sutorus · 7 months

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BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea.

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class.

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests.

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago.

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew.

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way.

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study.

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats.

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention.

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met.

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do.

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin.

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn.

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa.

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you.

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager.

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around.

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat.

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him.

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything.

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features.

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with.

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too.

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you.

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever.

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation.

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath.

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew.

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused.

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later.

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol.

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression.

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes.

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to.

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight.

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff.

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants.

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it.

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life.

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible.

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip.

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva.

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him.

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy.

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat.

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.”

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs.

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him.

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.”

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again.

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth.

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs.

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants.

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory.

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him.

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years.

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of.

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together.

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours.

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth.

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you.

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him.

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself.

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck.

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him.

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad.

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer.

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit.

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him.

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust.

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer.

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip.

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?”

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you.

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill.

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now.

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you.

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?”

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.”

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house.

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice.

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it.

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words.

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast.

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck.

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you.

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass.

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa.

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you.

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it.

toji finally addresses you.

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks.

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

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hedgehog-moss · 3 days

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I went to a restaurant with a friend yesterday and upon entering we saw these splendid blueberry tarts under bell jars on the counter and we made jokey small talk with the waitress like oh, people will fight over these if there's not enough for everyone, it'll tear families apart, are you making more later? and she said no, I'm afraid that's our entire stock for today, but there are 18 slices, it should be plenty! It was a small village restaurant with only one menu du jour so there weren't any other dessert options but they don't usually get that many customers—but then a couple of large groups arrived and most people noticed the tarts like we did, and went ohh blueberry tart, it's been a while, I can't wait, and it became clear that when we'd get to the end of our meal there would be winners and losers in the blueberry tart rush

But later as we were about to order dessert I wasn't hungry anymore and I was like well that's too bad but someone else will be glad to get 'my' slice of tart—and my friend said yeah, me :) You should order it anyway, I'll eat both! At first I thought she was joking, but no. I said, there's not enough for everyone, you can't take two, and she said, we were going to order two slices, what difference does it make? and I was baffled that she couldn't see the ethical difference between two people eating one slice of tart each vs. one person eating two, when there's a limited quantity of tart. I felt like we were in a simplistic social justice metaphor it was so obvious, but there was no changing her mind. When I said "it's just... not nice" she said "okay" with a shrug, and what can you say to that. She added, you don't know any of these people and I was like, why are we reverting to tribal dynamics in a non-apocalyptic setting, how would you feel if we'd arrived a bit later and seen others ordering two desserts knowing you'd get zero? And she said, I would think that's their right, and I felt kind of amazed.

I pointed out that if she didn't think it was a wee bit wrong, she wouldn't ask me to order her second piece as if it was for me, and she said yeah maybe we don't need to do that, there's no law preventing me from ordering two desserts. What about Kant's categorical imperative Okay I guess you're not breaking any laws by taking more than your fair share of a thing other people also want, just failing a kindergarten-level morality test. I felt embarrassed for sounding like an annoying preachy rigid person so I dropped the issue, and as she ate her two slices she'd smile at me every time we overheard someone order coffee without dessert—like "See? There'll be enough, no one will be deprived of tart because of me!" as if that cancelled the fact that she didn't care in the first place. I guess it was one of these tiny issues that can still significantly alter the way you perceive a person. I tried to tell myself not to be so bothered about this small thing but I was! so bothered. And I felt like writing a letter to some agony aunt like "should I end a friendship over irreconcilable blueberry tart ethics"

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astrolovecosmos · 10 days

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If you're a writer take a look at your Mercury placement for inspiration 🖋️

1st House: Baby you're the inspiration! Dig deep into your identity and practice introspection for your work.

2nd House: What do you value? What will you work hard for, protect, collect? Use that for your inspiration! Maybe take inspiration from the material world or nature as well.

3rd House: Pay attention to your community and family (especially siblings, extended family, and family arguments or rivalry) for inspiration. Knowledge and research may be your best friend as a writer. Speak your mind and explore your emotions through writing, journaling, or blogging.

4th House: Family, home, your private life, or maybe your own inner world of coping, emotional sensitivity, and depth are your muse!

5th House: Having fun with your words and stories may be a good starting point! This is the house of creativity, joy, and celebration. Here creativity should stem from passion, discovery, and maybe romance. Be brave and even dramatic or ridiculous in how you write and how you get inspiration.

6th House: The house of routine, health, and work may not sound very inspiring but things like daily writing exercises or challenges may be very helpful for you. Time management and aiming to reach goals with your writing is going to be highly productive. Inspiration for you may come from ideas around altruism and what makes you feel like you're making a difference.

7th House: Take your inspiration from your relationships, fights, competition, rivalry, deals, and romance. Seek inspiration in others. Find a true muse.

8th House: The skeletons in your closet may be the best inspiration. Your fears, secrets, pain, depth, and vulnerability.

9th House: Your beliefs can be a major source for inspiration/creativity. Taking inspiration from other works, research, and knowledge may be your style too. Diving into a subject like history, sociology, psychology, religion, laws, journalism, politics, etc. can be very motivating.

10th House: Rely on your sense of purpose to give you inspiration. Reflecting on society or authority can give insight too.

11th House: Look to your friends for inspiration and friendship dynamics! Zooming out to collective trends and feelings can be a powerful tool as well for your writings. Tap into your aspirations and highest dreams too.

12th House: Using writing as a tool to explore your subconscious may be useful. Taking inspiration from your dreams, imagination, and even the darkest parts of you may be key for you as a writer.

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truevedicastrology · 2 months

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Uranus in the Houses

A Spark of Unpredictability

Uranus, the planet of revolution and innovation, adds a dash of unpredictability wherever it lands in your birth chart. Let's explore how it ignites change and disrupts the status quo in each house:

1st House: The Maverick

Forget fitting in! You're a natural-born trendsetter, drawn to the avant-garde and expressing yourself authentically. Embracing your quirks, even if they shock others, is key to unlocking your full potential.

2nd House: The Unconventional Earner

Get ready for surprises in your finances! Uranus might bring sudden windfalls or unexpected losses, prompting you to break free from traditional wealth accumulation methods. Embrace innovative ideas and unconventional ventures.

3rd House: The Quick-Witted Communicator

Communication sparks fly! You have a knack for expressing yourself in unexpected ways, sometimes shocking others with your wit and sharp insights. Embrace intellectual challenges and explore diverse perspectives.

4th House: The Unconventional Home

Your home life is anything but ordinary! Expect sudden changes in your living situation or unconventional family dynamics. Embrace the opportunity to build a unique and authentic haven.

5th House: The Rebellious Creator

Your creativity thrives on breaking the rules! You're drawn to avant-garde forms of expression and unexpected romantic encounters. Embrace your uniqueness and challenge conventional notions of love and pleasure.

6th House: The Unorthodox Work Ethic

You disrupt the traditional work environment! You might embrace unconventional methods, challenge authority, or switch careers unexpectedly. Embrace innovation and find a work space that allows you to be your authentic self.

7th House: The Unpredictable Partner

Relationships take an excitingly unpredictable turn with Uranus. You might attract unconventional partners or experience sudden changes in your partnerships. Embrace open communication and respect for individual freedom.

8th House: The Transformational Journey

Expect unexpected transformations in your personal power and finances. You might experience sudden inheritances or losses, prompting deep personal growth. Embrace the power of change and learn to let go.

9th House: The Globe-Trotting Explorer

Embrace adventure! Uranus fuels your wanderlust and desire for unconventional travel experiences. You might be drawn to exploring hidden knowledge or challenging traditional beliefs. Embrace open-mindedness and diverse perspectives.

10th House: The Unlikely Star

Your career path is anything but predictable! You might experience sudden success, unexpected career changes, or unconventional leadership styles. Embrace innovation and find a career that allows you to express your unique vision.

11th House: The Social Revolutionary

You attract like-minded rebels and dreamers! Your friendships challenge the status quo and inspire social change. Embrace collaboration and use your network to make a difference.

12th House: The Intuitive Visionary

Uranus awakens your hidden potential and psychic abilities. You might experience sudden flashes of insight or unconventional spiritual experiences. Embrace introspection and connect to your inner wisdom.

Remember, Uranus' influence is just one piece of your unique astrological puzzle. Embrace the spark of unpredictability it brings and use it to forge your own extraordinary path!

#uranus #astrology #astrology horoscope #astrology houses #astrology observations #vedic astrology #astro community #astro notes #astrology chart #astrology facts #astrology heals #astrology predictions #astrology readings #astrophile #astro observations #astroblr #birth chart

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chemicalreal · 2 months

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Viserys is just as despicable as Daemon and Otto, except in a different way

It's weird enough how King Viserys is widely well seen by the audience despite his evident selfishness, which is perhaps one of the most pronounced traits throughout the show. This perception is predominantly fueled by Rhaenyra's camp, who views Viserys' unequal treatment of his children in her favor as a redeeming quality of his character.

The subtle detail of Rhaenyra eagerly desiring a sister while her mother is still pregnant often goes unnoticed, just like her displease of the life she is supposed to endure going through many difficult pregnancies. Her strong insistence that it will be a girl contrasts with her father's wishes, hinting at an awareness of the changing dynamics within the royal family in case a boy is born. Despite spending her early years as the king's only child, the frequent pregnancies of Rhaella imply the king's persistent efforts to secure a male heir to the throne.

Therefore, Rhaenyra is effectively being sidelined as a potential heir in favor of a yet-to-be-born phantom brother. The king's intense desire for a male heir leads him to make the drastic decision of sacrificing his own wife during childbirth. While it's understandable that a mother would prioritize her child's life over her own, the scene becomes disturbing due to Aemma's clear distress and pleas for help let alone the fact that she was literally cut open while being awake, highlighting the king's unwavering determination that will lead to others suffering and this is a leit motive for the rest of his life, be it physically or emotionally.

The claim that Viserys, a now seasoned king, was manipulated by a teenager into marriage is one of the most absurd ones in this fandom, especially if we take into account how Alicent is portrayed. In reality, it was another self-centered choice driven by his own desires. Alicent, despite being urged by her ambitious father to seduce the grieving king (much to her horror), maintains the demeanor of a respectable lady. During her time with Viserys, the focus is on shared interests such as history and books, creating a dynamic more akin to a father spending time with his daughter. Alicent even mends the temporary rift between him and Rhaenyra giving him genuine advice. Viserys undoubtedly married Alicent out of his own desire, not coercion as some suggest. The scene where he announces it reveals Alicent's almost shocked reaction, indicating her lingering hope that he might not proceed with the idea. If Viserys were a virtuous man, he would have found Alicent a suitable match with a respected lord to acknowledge her services and simultaneously spite her father's ulterior motives.

Viserys continues to treat Alicent as an object throughout their marriage, often demanding her to fulfill his physical needs, even after he is plagued by illness and Alicent shown to be visibly uncomfortable because of it. After a somewhat "honeymoon" phase, which is still marred by a strained relationship between Alicent and Rhaenyra which puts the former in isolation despite her efforts to show support for her as the heir, Viserys is suddenly consumed by guilt for his actions towards Aemma. At this point, Alicent and their son Aegon (and by consequence their future three children) cease to exist for him. It's important to highlight that despite this epiphany and subsequent emotional neglect, Viserys' requests for physical intimacy with Alicent persist, which only makes him more of an hypocrite who still can't help but indulge in his selfish needs at the expense of others.

Viserys' insensitivity towards Alicent is further emphasized when Daemon returns to King's Landing and both he and Viserys mock Alicent's attempts at conversation about the new tapestries. Even Rhaenyra is visibly appalled by their behavior and chooses to support Alicent to prevent her from feeling humiliated. The temporary resumption of friendship between the two women adds layers to their tragedy, as their later falling out is ultimately induced by the men who view them merely as tools of power.

In addition to Daemon's emotional hold on Rhaenyra that will lead to their scandalous marriage, Otto's influence over Alicent, and his manipulative schemes, Viserys perpetuates the conflict through his inaction and convenient stance in the middle ground. He neglects his other children, projecting guilt towards Aemma onto them and Alicent. While he outwardly shows love and favoritism for Rhaenyra and ignores her infractions, it seems more like a projection of guilt rather than genuine support, as he fails to take concrete steps to legitimize her ascension, especially now with the presence of sons. Viserys' actions ultimately work against Rhaenyra's favor, rather than supporting her. His handling of the family feud after Laena's funeral closes the door for any potential reconciliation between the queen and the princess.

The truce dinner in episode 8 is unmistakably a ticking time bomb. The Rubicon was crossed years ago, but Viserys prefers to maintain the illusion of a happy family, akin to the illusion of Alicent being Aemma, for his own peace of mind. Rather than addressing the underlying issues, he opts to create a facade to avoid dealing with the potential chaos of his family members turning against each other once he is gone.

In conclusion, Viserys embodies those problematic people who often evade accountability for their actions due to their seemingly kind and sympathetic demeanor. His ability to project an amiable facade masks the deeper issues and consequences of his decisions, allowing him to avoid the scrutiny he might otherwise face.

#viserys targaryen #king viserys #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #aemma targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #prince daemon targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #anti viserys i targaryen #otto hightower #asoiaf #just a rant

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jesncin · 4 months

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I’m curious about your take on Jon Kent.

How would you interpret his friendship with Damian as the Supersons?

And would Damian’s Robin suit take design ques from his heritage on Talia’s side of the family like Jon’s does with Lois?

I have drawn Damian within the JL remix before, but I think that's a fun prompt as a superhero design! Here's my re-visit of Damian's Robin suit, infused with his heritage from Talia's side (along with some casual wear):

Jon and Damian's friendship is still the Supersons dynamic, but they also find comfort with each other as fellow diaspora kids.

There's an admiration and respect they have for each other, culturally, that makes their dynamic different from their respective dads' teamwork.

#askjesncin #damian wayne #jon kent #robin #superboy #supersons #jl remix #jon has a crush on damian but mistakes it for wasian solidarity #they're both of distant chinese descent too but not culturally raised chinese #there's a lot the supersons relate on :)

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incognit0slut · 5 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (16)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is faced with a dangerous confrontation. wc: 3.4k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: this part went through so much editing until I was satisfied with it, also, can't believe this is ending soon!!

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

EVERYTHING FINALLY FELL INTO PLACE. Although it took longer than it normally did to solve a case, Spencer finally gathered every piece of information, every obscure clue, and every small detail he unfortunately missed before to make a clear profile.

Eric Adler—or Henry Wyatt as Garcia discovered through her meticulous sleuthing—was a master of disguise. He had concealed his identity under a different persona, changing his name the moment he packed his bags and left the town he grew up in. Oliver confirmed this discovery when Spencer visited the hospital the following day, once he had regained consciousness.

"Eric... he's a stranger to me," Oliver had said, his voice carrying a tinge of disbelief, a foreign look gleaming in his eyes. "Henry, on the other hand, was one of my closest friends."

"I'm assuming something happened for you to drift apart."

Oliver's gaze shifted. "We grew up in a very tight community. Religion was all we were taught," he began, his voice tinged with defiance and nostalgia. "I guess we became close from our rejection of those traditional values and practices."

Spencer acknowledged his words with a nod. "Your files showed there were a lot of crimes you committed in the past."

"I-I was very rebellious."

"I would say forcing yourself on a young, innocent girl was more than rebellious."

Oliver winced. "Listen, I'm not proud of my past," he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "But yes, my friends and I grew up doing things that were out of morals."

Spencer studied him. "What happened then?"

"A lot of pointing fingers," he admitted. "Our community leaders eventually found out and threatened us with severe punishment. From the outside, it was simply community service, but from the inside, it involved a lot of restraints and, well, whips."

Silence stretched between them. "It was how they punished the bad," Oliver explained further, his eyes searching Spencer's for comprehension. "They always say it whenever they were going to abuse us; 'The wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free.'"

"Proverbs 11:21," Spencer mumbled under his breath, recognizing the scriptural reference.

A hint of surprise flickered across Oliver's face. "Are you a religious person?"

He shook his head, implying a depth of knowledge that surpassed the boundaries of religious beliefs. "Was that what made you drift apart?"

"Partly, yes," Oliver answered with a sigh. "We didn't admit to it at first, but then under the pressure and the constant threat of punishment, I guess I became weak."

"Did you betray him?"

Oliver acknowledged the truth with a slow nod. "We were both punished, along with the others who were involved, but our leaders always wanted one name whom they could sacrifice, a name who held all responsibility. The initiator of all sins."

"So you put the blame on him," Spencer summarized, understanding the dynamics that had led to the fracture in their friendship.

"It was the only thing I thought of doing to save myself," he confessed. "He became a sacrifice. All the punishment turned onto him until he was cast out of the community. When his family didn't even try to interfere, he eventually left town. Never heard from him ever since."

"And then years later you saw him again."

His shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug.

"I didn't even recognize him at first. He had a different name, different hair, different style—he was practically a different person. When I realized who he actually was, I tried to confront him but he never acknowledged me." He then looked away, the emotion in his gaze concealed. "I just thought he didn't want to be associated with the past anymore."

It explained everything. The revelation about Eric's past and the harsh punishments he had to endure shed light on the motivations behind his actions. It explained why he felt compelled to punish people, as it was the only method deeply ingrained in his brain.

Their shared upbringing, the weight of betrayal, and the scars of their past had shaped his sense of justice, leading him down a dark path of vengeance. And with that new knowledge in mind, Spencer passed on the information he had discovered when he came to work the next day.

Everyone was gathered by the round table, an unusual thing to happen given that they were typically scattered in their assigned tasks, but all of them were present for once. Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing in contemplation after Spencer finished his thoughts. "So let me get this straight, Eric's vendetta against Oliver is personal. Goes beyond just catching a killer then."

"It's a cycle of betrayal." JJ, standing by the door with crossed arms, agreed aloud. "He attempted to shift the blame onto Oliver, something he also went through in the past."

Spencer nodded as he started to pace around the room. "Psychologically speaking, his actions seem to be rooted in a need for retribution, a manifestation of the punitive measures ingrained in his upbringing."

"So we're dealing with a man who sees himself as a guardian angel dispensing justice, even if it means resorting to extreme measures."

"A guardian angel while simultaneously executing his revenge," Emily mused from the other side, her words laced with a blend of contemplation and concern. "Very personal indeed."

Hotch crossed his arms as he stood by the table, and scrutinized his team with his usual detached and professional expression, devoid of any visible emotions. "We need to understand his patterns," he began. "If we can predict his next move, we might be able to intercept him."

"He clearly has a deep affection towards Y/n." Morgan offered, prompting Spencer to halt his pacing and turn his attention toward him at the mention of her name. "He probably has a list of people who he thinks have hurt her in the past."

Rossi studied everyone in the room, attentively listening to their thoughts. He tapped his finger against the wooden table, directing his focus on Morgan. "We should find out who might be on that list. It could give us insight into his next move."

Hotch agreed with a curt nod. "Morgan, Rossi, work on compiling a list of individuals connected to Y/n. Garcia, cross-reference it with Eric's history. Let's see if we can predict his next move based on the people he might target."

Garcia instinctively rose from her chair and nodded. "Yes, sir," and waltzed out of the room with determined steps, making her way to her office.

The others shifted from their spots, while Morgan, unlike the rest, kept his gaze on Spencer. He observed the frown stretching across his face and pondered whether to voice what he had in mind. He hesitated, acknowledging that Spencer's involvement with their witness wasn't strictly his business. Yet, considering the recent events, he felt compelled to express his thoughts.

"I don't want to be that kind of person to bear bad news, but I think—I think—there's a high chance that pretty boy here could be a target," Morgan declared. Spencer quickly met his gaze.

Everyone else, momentarily suspended in a collective pause, turned their attention toward him. He could feel their penetrating gaze, which started to make him uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. He didn't want to entertain that possibility, but it made sense. Considering Eric had been with her right after he had hurt her, he could very well be the next target.

JJ, breaking the silence, voiced what lingered in everyone's thoughts as she took a step closer to him. "We should keep you safe then. If you're a potential target, we can't afford to overlook any possibility."

Spencer glanced over at her, noting the concern in her eyes. He sensed a silent plea in the way she looked at him as if she were urging him to agree, to step back and act on what seemed to be the logical thing to do. However, despite that, the gears in his mind were turning. If he was a potential target, it could offer an easy opportunity to get closer to their Unsub.

"No," he said, a conviction in his voice. "You can use me as bait."

The room held its breath as his unexpected proposal hung in the air. The team, still processing the revelation of his potentially being a target, turned their focus to his daring suggestion.

JJ simply stared at him, dumbfounded by the audacity of the idea. "You're crazy."

"No, think about it." He turned towards Hotch, knowing the older man would at least consider his idea. "We can get to him by luring him in."

Hotch held his gaze. The weight of leadership rested on his shoulders as he considered the risky proposition. "Reid, it's too dangerous. We can't—"

"If Eric believes he has a score to settle with me, then let's use that to our advantage. We set up a controlled scenario, anticipate his moves, and ensure we have the upper hand."

Emily looked at him with worry, taking a step forward from the other side of the room. "Reid, it's too risky. We don't know how he'll react, we can't even guarantee your safety."

"Yes, you can. You'll keep an eye on me." His eyes traveled around the room, meeting each one of their concerned gaze. "It's not something we haven't done before; we've used this method to lure an Unsub, and right now, we have no clue where he is. The only way we can draw his attention is by using me."

Hotch's gaze shifted between Spencer and the rest of the team, weighing the potential outcomes of such a high-stakes plan. It was undeniably risky, but Spencer was right. This wouldn't be their first time baiting an Unsub, and given their past success, a part of him believed the outcome would work out according to plan.

After a moment, he slowly nodded. "Alright, but if we proceed with this, we have to ensure everyone's safety." He gave Spencer a pointed look. "Especially yours, Reid."

He quickly nodded as a moment of understanding passed between them. The room suddenly filled with noise, and amidst the bustling movements, he felt a desperate grip on his arm, pulling him away from the group.

"Spence." JJ's grip tightened as she voiced her concern. "You could be putting yourself in danger. What if this goes wrong?"

That was the thing. It was the nature of their job—there would always be different outcomes. There was no certainty about what could transpire. But with nothing else to do, Spencer was growing desperate for more answers, so he held her gaze, determination etched in his eyes.

"If it means stopping him and knowing her whereabouts, I'm willing to take any risk."

It was raining when it happened. It had been pouring for the past few days as they started to plan the operation. The team decided to elevate the stakes by choosing his apartment as the bait location, aiming to create a scenario that would be emotionally charged for Eric, potentially triggering a faster and more decisive response.

They studied Eric's patterns and behaviors, gathering insights into his actions and motivations. Garcia, constantly stationed at her desk, continued to monitor social media, public records, and any other available data to gauge Eric's movements. She had identified potential triggers that might prompt Eric to act, such as media coverage or public discussions related to Y/n.

In addition to electronic surveillance, Morgan and JJ conducted physical surveillance on locations connected to Y/n's past, anticipating that Eric might revisit places with emotional significance. They strategically placed themselves in key positions, ready to observe and intercept any suspicious activity.

And then the clock ticked away, the minutes stretched into an agonizing waiting game, every second pregnant with anticipation.

Until it finally came to that night.

Everything felt strange. His apartment. The weather. Himself. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm, and Spencer watched the raindrops hit his windowpanes from his couch.

Weeks ago, he sat in the same place where he was now. The only difference was that he was alone. There was no faint smell of chocolate or the sweet melody of laughter. She wasn't here, gracing him with her smile as she nestled on his lap. Her whispers of his name were absent, and the cruel thing was, he didn't even know where she was now.

He had never felt so much pain before, the ache of not knowing where someone was, all the while having to keep his head up high. It was a facade he learned to put on. Pretending that the hidden cameras strategically placed in his apartment didn't unsettle him, or the discreetly wired microphone, or the inconspicuous headpiece nestled in his ear. He had to act as though the looming potential danger didn't faze him.

But then it finally happened, a sudden shift in the atmosphere permeated the air—like the calm before the storm. And in an instant, Garcia's voice crackled over the communication devices, urgency lacing her words. "I've got movement. Eric's online activity just spiked."

Morgan and Prentiss, stationed discreetly around the apartment complex, receiving the signal, tightened their surveillance. The external cameras around his building captured a figure approaching, shrouded in the shadows of the rainy night.

Within the confines of his home, his senses heightened. The rain outside intensified. A streak of lighting flashed through the window. A loud sound of thunder echoed in the background. Spencer waited with bated breath, his gaze fixated on the front door. Then, with a creak, it slowly swung open, revealing a silhouette of a figure in the doorway.

Water dripped from his clothes, leaving a trail of wetness as he crossed the threshold. Their eyes briefly locked, and a smile played on Eric's lips as he observed the way Spencer scrutinized him, closing the door behind him.

"Dr. Reid," his sinister tone sliced through the silence, his words dripping with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "I see you've been waiting for me."

Spencer watched him, maintaining a composed exterior despite the tension in the air, and met his gaze with a steely resolve. "And I see you've been busy."

Eric cocked an eyebrow.

"Carving your path of justice one victim at a time."

His expression remained unyielding. Stepping further into the room, Eric left a trail of dirty shoe marks on the floor as his eyes observed the dimly lit apartment. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Spencer slowly rose from his seat. "And what is that?"

"Punishing those who have wronged her."

"You're not her savior. You're a vigilante with a distorted sense of righteousness."

"And that's where you're wrong. You don't know the pain she's been through. I'm the only one who can protect her."

Spencer silently watched as he continued to survey his apartment. Eric's eyes swept through all the framed certificates on his wall, his finger delicately tracing the edge of each frame. When he was met with silence, Eric turned back to him, narrowing the distance between them.

"You were always the one she trusted, weren't you?" He shook his head with disdain. "Yet you're the one who hurt her the most."

Aware that each word could either defuse or escalate the situation, Spencer continued to engage him. "I haven't hurt her," he responded carefully. "I've been trying to protect her from someone like you, someone who's lost sight of justice."

Eric let out a scoff. "You think I've lost sight? No, Dr. Reid, I've found clarity. I've seen the darkness that lurks in the hearts of those who pretend to be righteous."

"Your version of justice is a perversion. You've become the monster you claim to fight against."

The room crackled with tension as they held each other's gaze. "Do you even listen to yourself?" Eric retorted, his eyes narrowing with accusation. "You claim to protect her, yet she's left alone in the darkness you couldn't save her from."

The air in the room seemed to thicken as the weight of his words hung between them. His heart quickened its pace while he tried to maintain a calm facade. "Where is she?"

Eric's laughter cut through the air. "You think I'll tell you voluntarily?"

Spencer's gaze remained steady on him. "What do you want?"

The sinister grin on Eric's face revealed a gambit. "You." He took another step closer. "Come with me and I'll take you to her..."

There was definitely a but. It was never that easy, and the way he trailed off his words prompted Spencer to ask, "On what condition?"

He smiled, eyes narrowing as he conveyed a sense of menace while he delivered his proposition.

"Cut off all communication with your team."

Tension lingered around the room like an invisible web, each word contributing to the growing stakes. Eric's laughter, a haunting sound, followed the slightly alarmed look on Spencer's face.

"You think I didn't know?" he taunted. "Two of your agents are outside this building, and come on, you could've hidden that earpiece better than that." He pointed towards the device. "Your hair might be long, but it's not that long."

Eric then picked up a framed picture sitting on his shelf. It was a photo of him and his team casually smiling to the camera. He remembered that day, it was one of the many times they visited Rossi's house for dinner, and Garcia decided it was the perfect time to capture the moment. To preserve the happy times, she had said, and true to her words, he was happy that day.

His mind suddenly raced, considering the options and potential consequences of complying with his demand. He finally responded. "What if I refuse?"

"Then you'll never find her," Eric retorted, looking back at him. "It's a simple choice. Sacrifice your precious communication or lose her forever."

He wanted him to step into his trap willingly. It was a cruel choice, and it seemed he wasn't the only one who agreed. As Eric's demand hung in the air, the team's voices crackled urgently through his earpiece. Panic and concern infused their words as they frantically implored him to reconsider.

"Spence, step back!"

"Reid, don't do it."

"Stand down, Reid. We're coming through."

The chorus of concerned voices reverberated in his earpiece, each team member contributing to their worry. Despite the chaos of emotions echoing through the line, Spencer remained outwardly composed, his mind working swiftly to navigate the dangerous situation.

"Don't—" he urged, his gaze piercing on Eric while his voice pointed towards his team. "Stay where you are."

Eric watched him with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Seems like your team is in quite a frenzy there. Are you really willing to risk her safety for their voices in your ear?" He continued with a sinister grin, reveling the chaos he had stirred. "Strip away your lifeline, Spencer. The battle is between you and me."

Spencer stood there, calculating his next move. He weighed the possible outcomes of his choices and realized that nothing good would come from either of them. Eric, observing his contemplation, smirked with a twisted satisfaction.

"Come on, Dr. Reid, time is ticking." He tapped the watch around his wrist. "Make up your mind."

Spencer inhaled a sharp breath. Eric was right, there was no time to waste. The more he contemplated his answer, the more danger she was in. He needed her safe. He needed to see her. He needed to know where she was. And there was only one way to find out.

At the other end of the line, Garcia, stationed at her desk, watched Spencer through the screen with a growing sense of urgency. His gaze slowly swept over the room, and she could sense the critical decision looming. Her heart raced as his eyes fell on one of the hidden cameras.

"He's onto us," she muttered to herself, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She tried to maintain the connection as he walked over to the device and unplugged it.

Garcia cursed under her breath. "No—" She pressed on her intercom, her voice tinged with frustration. "I'm losing him."

One by one, the video feeds from the hidden cameras in his apartment turned black. The loss of visual contact with each camera felt like a punch to the gut. Her frustration mounted as the screens blinked out, leaving her staring at a grid of darkness.

"No, no, no," she muttered, fingers dancing over the keyboard in a desperate attempt to reestablish connection. But there was nothing else she could do.

The earpieces crackled with an ominous quiet before a sudden crash echoed through, the sharp sound of impact reverberating. A groan. A thud. A grunt. The team exchanged alarmed glances in their respective locations as the audio crackled with static, and their heart raced at the uncertainty hanging in the air.

Then, abruptly, there was nothing else but silence.

>> NEXT PART

taglist #1

@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @louderfortheback @busy-buzzing @alexis-exe2008 @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @elamultistan @lyxennz @avid-fic-reader-05

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PLEASE READ: If you already asked me to be added but you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched or I can't tag you. Or if you want to be removed you can also tell me. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

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katakaluptastrophy · 3 months

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Masterpost of TLT metas

This is mostly for my own reference, as tagging doesn't seem to guarantee something being findable on Tumblr...but if you like wildly overthinking lesbian necromancers in space, enjoy!

Overthinking the Fifth House:

What is a "Speaker to the Dead"?

Actually, Magnus Quinn isn't terrible at sword fighting

Imperial complicity: Abigail the First

Pyschopomp: Abigail Pent and Hecate

Did Teacher conspire with Cytherea to kill the Fifth?

What does the Fifth House actually do?

The Fourth and the Fifth can never just be family

Cytherea's political observations at the anniversary dinner

Abigail Pent's affect: ghosts and autism

Were the Fourth wards of the Fifth?

Abigail probably knew most of the scions as children

Magnus Quinn's very understandable anger

Fifth House necromancy is not neat and tidy

Are Abigail and Magnus an exception to the exploitative nature of cavaliership?

"Abigail Pent literally brought her husband and look where that got her" (the Fifth in TUG)

The Fifth's relationship dynamic

The Fifth's relationship is unconventional in a number of ways

The queer-coding of Abigail and Magnus' relationship

Abigail and Palamedes, and knowing in the River

Was Isaac the ward of the Fifth?

Did Magnus manage to draw his sword before Cytherea killed him? (and why he probably had to watch his wife die)

How did Abigail know she was murdered by a Lyctor?

Fifth House necromancy is straight out of the Odyssey

The politics of the anniversary dinner

Was Magnus born outside of the Dominicus system?

Overthinking John Gaius:

The one time John was happy was playing Jesus

Is Alecto's body made from John's?

Are there atheists in the Nine Houses?

Why isn't John's daughter a necromancer?

The horrors of love go both ways: why John could have asked Alecto 'what have you done to me?'

Why M- may have really hoped John was on drugs

What is it with guys called Jo(h)n and getting disintegrated? (John and Dr Manhattan)

John's conference call with his CIA handlers

Watching your friend turn into an eldritch horror

Why does G1deon look so weird? (Jod regrew him from an arm)

When is a friendship bracelet not a friendship bracelet?

Why did John have G1deon hunt Harrow? (with bonus update)

The 'indelible' sin of Lyctorhood and John's shoddy plagiarism of Catholicism

Are John Gaius and Abigail Pent so different?

What was Jod's plan at Canaan House?

John and Ianthe tread the Eightfold path

The Mithraeum is more than a joke about cows

When was John Gaius born? (And another)

John Gaius and the tragic Orestes

John and Jesus writing sins in the sand

John and Nona's echoing chapters

John's motivations

Overthinking the Nine Houses:

'No retainers, no attendants, no domestics'

Funerary customs and the violence of John's silence

Juno Zeta and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time

The horror of the River bubble

Every instance of 'is this how it happens' in HTN

Feudalism is still shitty even if you make it queer and sex positive

How do stele work?

Thought crime in the Nine Houses

The Houses have a population the size of Canada

What must it be like to fight the Houses?

You know what can't have been fun? Merv wing's megatruck on Varun day...

Augustine's very Catholic hobby (decorating skeletons)

Necromancers are not thin in a conventionally attractive way

Matching the Houses with the planets of the solar system

Why don't the Nine Houses have (consistent) vaccination or varifocals?

How would the Houses react to the deaths at Canaan House?

How does Wake understand her own name (languages over 10,000 years)

What pre-resurrection texts are known in the Houses?

Camilla and Palamedes very Platonic relationship

The horrors the Cohort found at Canaan House

Do the Houses understand the tech keeping them alive?

Overthinking House religion:

What do the Houses believe about death?

Was M's nun a Franciscan?

Cavaliership and arbitrary socio-religious structures

Ritual scarification

Sacraments and sacramentals

What did Silas think god wanted at Canaan House?

In defense of Silas

There's no such thing as a 'good' necro/cav relationship

Veiling and shaving in Ninth House cult practice

Tongue-in-cheek thoughts on Eighth and Sixth religion

A very long deep-dive on House belief and practice

Overthinking Harrowhark Nonagesimus:

'The meat of your meat...belonged to god' and 'that is how meat loves meat'

The horror of parental touch: Harrow, John Gaius, and Abigail Pent

Why is Harrow so obsessed with Abigail's hands?

Frontline Titties of the Fifth and transgressive necro/cav relationships

Harrow, Wake, and permeability of the soul in HTN

Bible studies for weird queer necromancers:

Epiphany: revealing god's child to the wider world

The Holy Innocents and the creche massacre

The Virgin Mary and Commander Wake

John Gaius and John the Baptist

Instantiating the Trinity and the Second Resurrection

What's the significance of Paul?

St Paul's theology of gender and sexuality and the House theology of cavaliership

Maundy Thursday: consuming another for eternal life

Harrow and the Harrowing of Hell

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #I like thinking about TLT a normal amount #Please do reply or reblog with your ideas or send asks!

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adamsrcnan · 15 days

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OKAY OKAY here we goooo an annoyingly long-ish post about all my thoughts on The Sunshine Court

Spoilers Spoilers Spoilersss you've been warned

First things first it is so interesting to see Nora writing from not one but TWO new people's perspective. Jean's perspective is just devastating being inside his head is heartbreaking the constant fear and panic and how much of his energy is used on just pushing down every memory of what was done to him. His coping mechanisms are terrifying and i truly do hope by the end of book 2 he has a healthier way of dealing with it bc baby boy stop hurting yourself :( Every sentence was so painful to read. But also his resilience the entire time to get through it no matter what, god i fucking love him!!! He is a fighter.

Jeremy's perspective is sooooo refreshing. He is such a little sweetheart i could cry. The fact that he sends hand written letters and he's so caring and genuine but he can also be so stern. When he dropped that "i asked you a question" to Lucas fkehdjdfjdh OK SIR. I'M SAT. His relationship with the family butler is so endearing as well i need more background on that for sure! My only one criticism is that he didn't have enough pov chapters and i'm hoping we'll learn more in the second book of course because there's still so much about him and his (dysfunctional? toxic?) family dynamic that we don't know yet but also i'm greedy and i wanna know EVEYTHING about him !!!

Kevin and Jean are so just tragic it actually breaks my fucking heart like "you didn't have to slit my throat on the way out" JEAN??? and "promise me you won't try again. I can't lose you." KEVIN??? And the fact that Jean to this day is still keeping that promise. Also Jean's obvious but secret long term crush on Kevin the way it's subtly dropped every time Jean has to stamp down on his desire's and "temptations" GOD PLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT

SPEAKING OF!!! BISEXUAL JEAN ??? BI JEAN??? BI JEANNNN !!!!

Neil and Jean oh my God like where do i even start?? The guilt Jean feels at what happened to Neil in the Nest and him finally calling him by his name after Riko's death and telling him his game was good. And Neil seriously needs to give himself more credit for how much of a caring person he is because the way he indirectly told Jean that he thinks he is worth saving and didn't even hesitate before asking Stuart to send someone after That Guy after what Jean told him. Neil Josten the man that you are!!!

Jean's little sister Elodie what a beautiful name. Them being so close and him reading to her. The way he found out about her death jolted me differently. It was so awful and i'm so sorry Jean didn't get to see her grow up and meet her again.

Renee and Jean oh my god. Jean thinking she's beautiful (bitch me toooo) And the whole right person wrong time ugh i can't stand it. Him wearing her necklace all the time, enough that Jeremy always notices it. And unabashedly stealing her picture from the foxes lounge. Like he did not give a fuck. He said this one is mine. One good reason to stay alive being rainbows i'm gonna FKSJSKDHDH. Theirs would be such a soft love.

Speaking of soft loves Laila and Cat are EVERYTHINGGGG. God they are so cute with their little domestic life and their rich gay boy son who crashes on their couch with his cardboard cut out dog. That whole friendship dynamic is beautiful. Their fierce protectiveness and care over Jean as well and the patience they have with him even after the little kitchen incident. When Cat took Jean out for a drive on her motorcycle god that was such a heart warming moment and Jean helping them cook as well and becoming the girls' little sous chef it's so cute so endearing !!!

FINALLY FINALLY THE JEREJEAN DYNAMIC

PLEASE I'M GONNA SCREAM

Jeremy being the one who told Jean that Riko was dead i don't even know what to begin with THAT like hhhhhhh. The way they're both stupidly attracted to each other but won't/can't do anything about it. THE WHOLE "say yes Jeremy" SCENE WTF WAS THATTT I WAS GOING INSANEEEE. Both of them having to stop mid sentence when they catch the other looking FINE as hell. Jean being so obvious that even Lucas picks up on the way he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy being there to ground Jean in a Moment and helping him come down from it. Grabbing his face and telling him he's okay. Moving into the room with him to make him feel more comfortable !! The way Jean grabs Jeremy's chin (boiiiii). Jeremy constantly reminding Jean that he is NOT A RAVEN ANYMORE no matter how many times he has to say it. Jeremy saying he'll wait as long as it takes until Jean speaks to him. JEREMY GIVING HIM A HUG AND JEAN CLUTCHING DESPERATELY TO HIS SHIRT FUUCUFHDHSJHSSUHDH and then the "will you help me?" And the "Anything you need" AND THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE A CERAMICS CLASS TOGETHER?!?!?!!!! i can't i can't i can't i caaan'ttt

There's so much more to say but i'm gonna leave it at this for now because i need to go re-read it again and take my time with it this time round but i really could not have asked for anything better Nora truly outdid herself here !!! I'm forever grateful she blessed us with this after so long.

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ohnoitstbskyen · 6 months

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youtube

let's spend an hour and a half enjoying the Heartsteel himbos | PARANOIA animation analysis

I have decidedly mixed feelings on the Heartsteel band splash art, which are intensified by the degree to which their 3 minute music video was able to near-instantly endear me to every one of these idiot himboyband doofuses.

Heartsteel is a project that suffers a lot in being compared to True Damage and K/DA, which are the most obvious points of comparison to draw, especially since Riot seems (at least to me) to have committed rather fewer resources to their virtual band project this go around. Wisely, thus, the Hearsteel project decided to attempt a very different narrative and emotional vibe with its characters from previous efforts. Where K/DA and True Damage both presented their characters as untouchable pop-gods at the top of their game, bragging about their accomplishments, Heartsteel comes from almost exactly the opposite place.

PARANOIA is a fearful, defensive, defiant song composed and performed like a triumphal power-anthem, coming from the perspective of a group of industry outsiders who have all been devalued or burned by the mainstream.

Ezreal is a one-hit-wonder whose image got run into the ground by controlling management, Yone a legendary producer burned out on industry conformity. Kayn is a pop music bad boy whose spiteful arrogance broke up his last band, K'Sante an ambitious vocal powerhouse who could never find creative partners, and Sett a disgraced rapper who lost his contract for punching a paparazzo.

These, then, are not pop-gods gracing the mortal realm with images of their brilliance, but a bunch of down-and-out losers and untapped talents trying to claw back their careers with nothing but found-family dynamics, the power of friendship, and Jackass-style promotional stunts in their arsenal. The music video depicts them running a night-time raid on a film studio, stealing props and causing god knows how much property damage trying to film their own comeback music video.

It doesn't.... quite nail the grunge independent vibe that it seems to want to go for, it has a rather inconsistent diegesis, and trying to cram character moments for six characters into a three minute song compresses the pace of the video to an almost manic emotional experience. I found that most of its setpieces and ideas did not land with me at all until a third or fourth re-watch, and going through the video frame-by-frame so I could actually take in what the video was trying to say.

Once I did, I enjoyed it a LOT. The character animation is expressive, dynamic and immensely charming. There's a ton of great texture work going on, interesting lighting, extremely creative effects, and the emotional heart of the video - the genuine affection between the band members as expressed through boyish shenanigans - hits brilliantly... once you slow the video down enough to really see it. There is also a truly astonishing amount of work put into flash frames and scribbly visual effects, and an absolute embarrassment of screenshots that could be wallpapers.

Anyway, I spent an hour and a half talking about a three-minute music video because I am the world's easiest sucker for charming character animation. Care to join me?

#tbskyen #heartsteel #league of legends #heartsteel yone #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel rhaast #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel sett #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel ezreal #k/da #true damage #riot games #Youtube

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idesofrevolution · 1 year

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Something’s Wrong with Luca

Teddy and Lucas were the best of friends. For the past fifteen years, since Lucas' family moved to town from Argentina, the two were inseparable. In fact, Teddy could remember the very day that they met as if it had happened the day before. Sitting in the back row in homeroom, seventh grade, Ms. Posner's old cadaverous talons gripping the Argentine boy's shoulders as she presented him to the class... Lucas didn't speak English very well at the time, so few if any of the other kids were particularly interested in being his friend. In most of his classes, at least for the first few years, he had to have an aide to help him through his coursework; most of the other kids assumed he was stupid and quiet. But the moment he was sat next to Teddy, sharing that genuine smile, it sparked the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

As Lucas' english speaking continued to improve, Teddy discovered a goofy, funny, laid back kid who just wanted a friend. They weren't popular kids, passing on sports teams, drama club, music ensembles, art club... they spent their time playing in the woods, creating fantastical realms of pirates and kings, elves and dwarves. In their fantasy worlds, they were safe. They were away from the judging eyes of their peers where they could truly be themselves. And so on it continued for the better part of a decade. Upon graduation, they had grown into two wildly intelligent, albeit a bit awkward young men ready to tackle the world. Though, as Teddy went on to university to study literature, Lucas' family wasn't able to afford any of the colleges he'd been accepted to. Thus, for the first time in their lives, the two were separated. Teddy flew across the country to Virginia for college, and Lucas stayed behind to work in his father's mechanic shop.

Their new situations were polar opposite, though their communication and relationship never faded. At least once a week they would facetime, updating eachother on their lives. The dynamic was as solid as it ever was, until it wasn't.

One cold January evening, Teddy sat down for his weekly video call, excited beyond words to tell Lucas about the new PS5 he'd bought for them to play Rocket League together on weekends. Though as call after call went unanswered, he decided to call it a night and touch base with him the next morning. Though, as morning came and went, there was still no sign of Lucas. His social medias went without updates, Teddy's texts went entirely unanswered, the only news heard from him whatsoever was from his step brother who mentioned that he'd seen Lucas working hard at the shop and hitting the gym he'd frequented.

This was the first peculiar incident that Teddy had noted. He'd known Lucas for years and while he was a lot of things, athletic was NOT one of them. It'd always been them versus the meatheads, and it was not like him to even consider lifting so much as a five pound weight. They would joke about the stupid smelly brutes in the school gym, mindlessly picking heavy things up and putting them back down again for some sense of marginal achievement. Though this would be only the beginning of Lucas' odd behavior. Months went by, Teddy checking his Instagram every day looking for a single sign his friend was doing alright, until one day as he was scrolling, he saw it.

It was Lucas, though not the proud, stringy outcast he'd left behind. This Lucas was ripped, proudly posing shirtless in some fancy-looking room he had never seen before, a cocky smirk plastered on his sweet face. The caption read:

"Workout complete: who's gonna give me a tongue bath?" followed by a slew of hashtags. Teddy's face flushed white as snow. Who was this person? What happened to him? Tapping his icon, Teddy saw that Lucas had changed his screenname to Luca, and this thirst trap he'd posted was the first one in over four months. Unsure of how to approach this vastly different person, Teddy replied to the post with a simple shocked emoji and hit send. It didn't take long before his phone dinged with a message: it was from Luca.

L: "yo sorry I been afk bro. my cuz julio been visiting from buenos aires... so i been hangin wit him. wuts up bro"

Immediately, Teddy thought his phone had been hacked. Luca had spent years perfecting his english, almost to the point where he would have been a tutor in the writing center had he wanted to be one. His texts were always grammatic perfection, down to the last punctuation mark.

T: "Uh, that's fine. I didn't know you had a cousin? You never talked about him or anything."

L: "bruh i didnt know he existed til he showed up. hes dope af. showin me some pointrs at liftin n shit. been changin my life. you gotta meet him when you come back."

T: "Sure, Lucas. I would love to meet him. I should be back next week actually, the semester is almost over. Maybe we can play RL at my place!"

L: "hah i dont think hed be into that kinda stuff. you shud hit the gym wit us when we go, get that pump goin ykwim. you gon love him."

Teddy frowned, had Lucas changed that much in the span of a few months? It wasn't just the physical differences, it was his attitude, it was his style, it was the way he talked, it was just... all wrong.

T: "Lucas, are you okay?"

L: "never better man. its Luca btw. fits better i think"

With that last text, Teddy decided to leave him on read. Lucas... or Luca rather, wasn't one to drink or do illicit substances. Though aside from that, he couldn't think of any other explanation for this dramatic shift in his friend's entire personality. He resolved then and there to get to the bottom of this, and he would do so in person the following week.

Thus, as he finished his finals, packed his bags and flew back home, the singular thing on his mind was seeing Luca. Arriving home, he monotonously went through the motions of greeting his parents and step brother, anxiously fidgeting on the car ride back from the airport. He didn't even take time to unpack his bags. The moment his mom's car parked in his driveway, he'd politely excused himself to go meet up with Luca. Hopping on his bike, he left his visibly confused family in the dust, rushing to the mechanic shop downtown where Luca worked.

By the time he got there, the shop was closing up for the day. Teddy ditched the bike on the concrete and burst into the front office, startling the lady behind the desk. Panting and sweaty, he collapsed onto the front desk.

"Uhm... Is Lucas here?" He breathlessly choked out the words to the woman, who confusedly cocked her head to the left. "Oh, I guess it's Luca now?" This name evidently struck a chord, where she nodded and pointed to the back room where the lockers sat. Teddy thanked her and slowly walked toward the big grey door. Placing his hand on the cold steel handle, he closed his eyes repeating to himself hopes that the person behind the door was the same one he'd always known. As he pressed the handle down and pushed the door open, the wet, dank smell of ripe sweat poured out. There, sitting on the bench, taking off his beat up pair of steel toed work boots was a shirtless Luca, almost twice the size he had been before. Where he used to be 5'8 and 101 lbs soaking wet, this Luca was easily 6'4 and pure muscle. His biceps bulged as he yanked his boot from his massive foot, veins pulsating up and down his arms. That boyish face remained, albeit with a newfound twinge of cockiness that was entirely counter to the mousy, nervous expression Teddy had grown to love. The moment he looked up, Luca grinned from ear to ear, hopping to his damp, socked feet and rushing his long lost best friend, throwing his arms wide to embrace him.

"Teddy!" Luca's chiseled body collided with Teddy's, holding him tightly against his statuesque torso with his face pressed against his sweat-slick pecs. Teddy felt like a child now compared to his friend, now transformed into a complete stranger. "It's so good to see you, hermano!" A thick Argentine accent bellowed from his newly baritone timbre- one that had been all but lost in school, but now prominently flowed from his supple lips. Teddy pulled away sharply, taking a step back in shock. "Oh, ¿es el olor? My bad, mi cuate. Long day of hard work, right?" Luca laughed, raising his arm to take a deep whiff of his dripping pits. "Ahhh. You grow to like it, me entiendes?" His jovial demeanor quickly subsided as he saw the look of absolute shock on Teddy's face.

"Lucas... What the fuck happened to you?"

"It's Luca now, hermano. I told you. Still the same guy as before, just a lil different now."

"Yeah... different. You can say that again." Luca sighed as he plopped back down onto the bench, spreading his legs wide as he rubbed his face.

"Yeah. I get it, man. It's a lot to take in, verdad? I told you my cousin Julio was in town for a while?" Teddy sternly nodded, straining to contain his contempt for this sharp departure of personality. Luca looked downward. "Yeah, well. He was a lot different from the rest of mi familia. He was a proud Argentino hombre. He was okay with not having perfect english, he wasn't scared of bein' different or bein' looked down on. Someone looked sideways at him and they'd have a broken jaw, me entiendes? It... it was so fuckin' nice to have someone around like me who was cool and strong and proud... I always wanted to be someone like him, Teddy. Always." Teddy saw a different Luca before him. Yeah, he was different, he was the embodiment of the thirst-trapping, smelly jock bros they hated as kids. Yet, in this moment of vulnerability, he saw the Luca he knew deep down.

"Luca, all those years of us being friends, being this close, you never told me that." His head hung low, running his hands through his sweaty locks.

"That's not the only thing I haven't told you, man."

"Luca, you can tell me anythi..." Luca threw his head straight up, staring Teddy straight in the eye before blurting out:

"TEDDY I FUCKIN' LOVE YOU!" The room fell silent. Both men sat there, not breaking eye contact, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Of course, someone had to be the one, and Luca sighed as he continued. "Mi amor, I have always loved you. Since day one. Lookin' at eachother in that old bat's class, I knew I wanted to be near you. With you. And it wasn't 'til Julio made me realize I should have fuckin' said somethin' that I let my balls drop and promised I would tell you. So yeah, man. I love you." Luca stood up abruptly, with a confidence entirely foreign to Teddy and towered above his infatuation. "And you know what? I think you love me too."

Teddy was gobsmacked. This was a revelation he wasn't prepared to address. Luca loved him? This cocky, jockish best friend of his loved him? More importantly, did he love him back? They stood there, waiting once again for the ice to be broken. Before long, Luca had turned around and began to pack his duffel bag, fearing he'd gotten the answer he was hoping to avoid. Yet, perhaps it was a moment of clarity, or even a moment of weakness, but something deep within Teddy surged up from his core out his mouth.

"I love you too." The quiet admission didn't go unnoticed, as Luca stopped everything he was doing and immediately turned around. "Yeah, I think I love you too Luca. You may be different now than you were, but all this time I couldn't stop thinking about you. How much I missed you, how I would have rather spent every single second with you than every moment of being out there without you." Luca smiled earnestly, slowly moving toward his cowering love. "And it made me scared and uncomfortable because I was terrified things were changing and I stayed the same. Seeing you like this this, you're doing what I could never do. You're growing, you're becoming the best version of yourself, and I didn't know if you'd even want to be around me anymore or if you'd be ashamed..." Teddy's groveling finally ended with Luca's lips firmly pressing against his, the stubble on his chin scratching against Teddy's smooth skin. His inhibitions melted away, Teddy allowed himself to fall into the sweaty stud's firm hold, wrapped in a warm sticky embrace.

"Do you wanna to be your best self then, mi amor?" Luca whispered so gently, as if his words were caressing the ear. Breathless, Teddy could only nod as he allowed his endorphins to take over. "Julio showed me how. Do you trust me?" Another silent nod, stifling a guttural moan as he felt Luca's bulge rapidly growing firm against his stomach. This was the explicit consent that Luca felt he needed, he was desperately aching to bestow upon his lover Julio's gift which he had been given months before.

Teddy felt a firm grip against his shoulders pressing him down to his knees, until he was eye level with the lengthening rod which strained against Luca's thick sweatpants. For so long he'd suppressed his innate desire to give it the worship he felt it had never received and as Luca threw the waistband down to his ankles, he was not disappointed as it flew up and smacked him in the jaw. Before him was the most anatomically perfect cock he'd ever seen: easily 10.5 inches of thick, uncut, musky dick. Two large-egg sized balls sagged low behind it, spattered with selective hairs and dripping sweat. Teddy felt drool begin to drip from the bottom of his lip, the sheer heat of the musty hot rod only millimeters from the tip of his nose. Luca smiled, wrapping his hand around it and pulling his long foreskin down, revealing the pink, leaking mushroom head it contained.

"Julio showed me an old family secret. Only a few of us can do it, and I want to do it for you, mi amor." He began to stroke slowly; his member immediately taking direct notice, throbbing in a fervor more akin to convulsion. "He fucked it up last time, he didn't come back. But now thanks to him... I know how to give it to you, babe." Luca took his thumb and gently pried Teddy's mouth open. Eager to please, Teddy quickly took the opportunity to lick the tip of his cock, instantly savoring the powerful flavor of his dripping pre. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. Sweet, salty, sour, savory... every taste bud fired thousands of endorphins in his brain. "Get your tongue in there, Cariño. Let it in." Teddy's tongue acted as if it were under another power, softly probing the leaking slit of the head and causing Luca to groan in ecstasy, throwing his head back. Grabbing the back of his head, in one firm push, Luca speared Teddy's gaping maw with his musky cock, pressing the nose firmly into his ripe bush.

Teddy was nearly scent-drunk in his love's dank, masculine smell, and only after a split second did he realize his entire tongue had slipped into Luca's thick rod. Grunting like a man in heat, the latin adonis gritted his teeth in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he felt Teddy's tongue slowly retract out of his cock. Released from his impalement, Teddy observed the wide opening of the cockslit in full view. Luca's hands gripped his palms, guiding his index finger back to the inviting orifice, effortlessly slipping in and sounding into his member. Elastic stretching sounds echoed in the room as the cock widened to fit his finger, then two, then four... until the whole hand was inside.

Teddy felt entranced, completely enveloped in the heat of the moment, plunging his second hand into the gaping hole. It stretched wide to welcome him, and with a single glance upward to a winking Luca, he understood. Teddy worked quickly, using forward momentum and the increasing suction within the engorged cock to propel his head forward into the tight wet cavern. The rest happened quickly. The sucking member had taken his arms and head entirely inside of it, squeaking and expanding as it guzzled his shoulders, chest and midsection. He could feel Luca lift his dick upward, letting him slide deeper and deeper. It was constricting, it was tight, it was wet, it smelled funky and ripe... it was the best sensation he'd ever felt. As his thighs and calves were made quick work of, only his feet remained outside of the slit. It took mere seconds for them to slurp inside.

Luca's cock was as large as he was, veins bulging and the entire length of it bulging and contorting as it worked Teddy down little by little toward his balls. He began to pump toward his sweaty balls, until he could feel the tips of his boyhood friend's fingers reach the opening into his cavernous testes. As if a seal had been broken, Teddy's body fell into the ocean of spunk, swelling his balls to accommodate the entire human being being nestled into his sac. The pace of his cock pumping hastened, as he felt closer and closer to climax. He felt the rigid bones and gelatinous fat begin to melt into his seed as Teddy was assimilated entirely into his system. Just as Julio had done to him, and just as he had in turn done to Julio. His breathing shallowed, gasping for air as he reached his tipping point, shooting out cum like a firehose all over the interior of the room. In it, was every insecurity, every pain, every imperfection which had plagued his lover since he was forced into the world. Gallons, tens of gallons in cum painted every surface around him, and as his balls began to shrink back down to the size of cantaloupes, he could feel his body churning Teddy down, incorporating him into the remnants of what was left of Julio. The gift itself, handed down the line for thousands of years was being imbued into the very core of Teddy's being. Julio had overshot his escape route in the heat of his own carnal lust, being broken down and slowly assimilated into Luca's body. The cockiness, the libido, the drive, the gift all now coursed through Luca. He was gone, but he didn't have to be wasted.

Over the next few weeks of churning, gurgling, bubbling, and undulating, Teddy was broken down and rebuilt only to be broken down again. Each time, a little more of Julio's essence would incorporate into him, even some of Luca himelf found its way into his shapeless form. Every workout that he did provided bursts of testosterone into the mix, and every jerking session flooded serotonin and glutamate. And after carefully monitoring the time, ensuring that Teddy would not meet his cousin's fate, three months later, it was time.

Sitting down in the luxurious apartment paid for by thirsty gay subscribers to his JustForFans and PH videos, Luca took his cock into his hands once more. Gently. Slowly. Carefully. Never losing focus of what was at stake, he stroked. Within his heavy balls, his leche had begun to bubble and slosh, preparing itself for expulsion. He picked up the pace, lifting his arm to get a full inhale of his pungent, all-natural pit poppers. His cock began to pulse and crack, as the thick sludge began to make its way toward the exit. Sure not to fall into the same trap as before, he pulled away from his tangy stink and focused. It was time. His hand moved furiously up and down his slimy cock, dripping with pre which pooled at his big, musky feet. One final cry of euphoria and out shot his load. One barrage after another, thick and dense landing afront him. Each shot slowly coagulating into a recognizable form. It slowly hardened, the milky white color giving way to ivory, then light beige, then a warm tan. Muscles tightened beneath a smooth skin, their fibers reconnecting one by one until they were strong and lean.

By the end of the bombardment, the homunculus before him had stood up. It was as tall as him, as broad as him, as powerful as him, and as the form of it's face began to take shape, a single tear was shed from Luca's watery eyes. He recognized his love, he could see Teddy, albeit ever so slightly different. He had certainly taken more of Julio and Luca's essences than they'd anticipated. A sharp, chiseled jawline carved itself out of the miasma, dark brown locks of hair sprung from it's scalp and plump lips parted to allow the deep breath of life which had been denied until then. His caramel eyes opened, and he smiled.

#male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #jockification #musk #musky #gay transformation #cockvore #assimilation #racial change #male tf

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sunshades · 2 months

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The ranni transfeminine reading always gets me with how like. So many little details about her beside the basic "killed own mortal body, now inhabits the likeness of a woman" situation feel recontextualized with a depth they didn't have before. The fact that she allows the tarnished into the tower where her body lays only after having proven their loyalty, and it is a high recompense. She's revealing her past, the depths of her conviction, and also... herself. Her corpse that she's burned beyond recognition... we identify it by context clues- she's wearing what looks like some gender-neutral academy robes, no headwear or jewelry or anything that might clearly signal for a princess (by contrast, godwyn retains his golden hair and armbands). This strange family dynamic that we have... her deep bond with rennala, but then the distance u can't help but notice with her brothers, who've gone on completely different paths from her... by contrast instead there's this apparent closeness with her half-brother miquella, whose curse prevents him from ever growing from a boy into a man- and after he was stolen away this is particularly about not getting to do it on... his own terms, in a way. Idk. It feels relevant that despite all that happened between their parents they'd be interested in each others friendship. You understand

#bell.txt #elden ring #sorry. sorry im done. was reading a particularly shitty chapter and just went oh i wish i was posting bullshit on tumblr right now

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

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tìyo’

tìyo’ [tɪ.ˈjoʔ̚] n. perfection

Anonymous Request: Could you write a neteyam x reader as she fell first, he fell harder trope and by harder I mean him literally being obsessed with her (in a good way ofc)?

3.2k words

Though our clan was large, it was not so large that I did not grow up knowing all the other children my age, and those my older brother's age, as well.

Neteyam wasn't my brother's friend, per se, but he did run in similar circles; after all, they were small circles. My brother was unimpressed with the chief's son, but he was unimpressed with most people, so it wasn't surprising.

I paid Neteyam little to no mind until we were older. Lo'ak was my age, but we scarcely interacted, though I thought he was a nice boy, if not a little reckless.

In our pre-teen years, Lo'ak and I had come together by happenstance; going on the same hunts, choosing our ikrans on the same day, finding out we had common interests and overbearingly perfect older siblings.

In our growing, still casual friendship, it was then that I really noticed Neteyam.

At first, I was just impressed and somewhat intimidated by him. Even though he was barely 17, he was the best hunter in our clan, by far. He was also an impressive fisherman, skilled at weaving nets and tossing his spear, and on top of it all, he seemed, from our limited interaction, kind and caring.

Lo'ak complained about him, but I knew they were close, and he admired his brother, the way I did mine. It was almost a resentful admiration; our brothers possessed qualities that were admired by all, that we didn't possess.

Neteyam was a model eldest son, admired by all and rarely admonished by his parents - Lo'ak was a little wild, erring on the side of breaking the rules.

No'vu and I had a different dynamic. He was the wild one, with a free spirit and very little care towards what others thought of him. I had always been more reserved and buttoned up, cautious and a little anxious, and I envied his relaxed demeanor.

It brought Lo'ak and I closer, as friends, and afforded me more opportunities to be around Neteyam. And every time I was near him, my crush deepened, until I was nearly 21, and the crush was turning into something more; something I was almost growing worried about.

Because I didn't think he had really noticed me, and wasn't sure he ever would.

All of the responsibilities that come with being the oldest son of the Olo'eyktan had nearly taken over Neteyam's life, and by the time he was approaching 23 years old, he realized how all-consuming they had become.

His father was still young, very healthy, and would be their leader for years to come.

Neteyam felt now that he was ready to step back from training, to live a life and find a mate, and enjoy himself before true responsibility sat on his shoulders.

It wasn't easy to approach his father and tell him this, but surprisingly, Jake understood. Maybe years of focused training had paid off, plus, Jake did mention this would afford him more time to focus on Lo'ak, who he sometimes worried felt overlooked.

The next morning, Neteyam woke up feeling directionless. Without a rigorous schedule to follow, he wasn't sure what to do with his time. His father had woken Lo'ak up early for a hunt, and he knew Lo'ak would be equally pleased and pissed, so Neteyam simply rolled out of his hammock and grabbed something to eat.

"What will you do today?" Kiri asked, and Neteyam just shrugged in response. "Come help me then," Kiri said. "No'vu and Y/N's mother is ill, and I'm paying her a visit."

With nothing really better to do, Neteyam agreed. It would be interesting to watch Kiri work, and he hadn't spent much time with her lately. He knew No’vu, but hadn’t been aware the wild Omaticayan man a sibling. Y/N was an unfamiliar name to him. He wondered if she was as brash and fearless as her brother was known to be.

When they arrived to the family's home, Eik Te lay on the floor, covered by a blanket, with her daughter at her side. She appeared to be asleep at first, but Neteyam noticed then that her eyes were open, just barely. She looked beyond sick - she looked gravely ill.

Kiri knelt by her side, next to Y/N, who was holding her mother's hand. No'vu was pacing outside the hut, and their father, Onpxew, was nowhere to be seen - likely hunting or fishing for the family.

"How is she today?" Kiri asked, and Y/N tried to muster up a smile, glancing up at Neteyam.

"Better," she said. "She said a few words, drank a little water. Better than yesterday."

Kiri sighed. "Good, that's good."

She rummaged through the basket she had brought, pulling out different powders and liquids, mixing something together. She felt the woman's forehead, focusing. "Her fever seems to be going down. I think this will pass, but it may be a few days yet before we can be sure."

Y/N nodded, looking stoically down at her mother, who's eyes were open a little wider now.

"Thank you, Kiri," Eik Te said, her voice dry and slow, and Kiri shushed her.

"You just get better. Step outside with me, Y/N," Kiri said. "Oh, also, this is Neteyam. He's learning a little about healing today."

Y/N stood up, and nodded to Neteyam. "We've met," she said.

Neteyam was sure that was true, but he didn't remember this woman - which surprised him.

When she stood, she was taller than average - much taller than Kiri, likely taller than her mother, and most other women in the clan. Her eyes were wide, a beautiful amber, and the spots around them danced even in the day light. Her hair was long, nearly to her waist, braided in tiny braids that looked like they must've taken days to complete.

As they walked, she carried herself with assuredness and grace. As she and Kiri spoke outside about her mother's condition, he watched her round lips move over straight, white teeth.

He had never seen anyone so beautiful. He tried to remember her, but nothing was coming to mind. Had he truly met her, and overlooked her?

Before he knew it, Kiri was saying her goodbyes, and Neteyam felt obligated to say something. "Let us know if you need anything, Y/N. I'm happy to hunt for you, or bring you more blankets and rugs."

Y/N smiled, and it was stunning, practically stopping his heart. "Thank you, Neteyam."

Next to him, Kiri was rolling his eyes. "I just said that. Let's go." She pulled on her brother's arm, and reluctantly, he followed her.

After that day, Neteyam saw Y/N everywhere he went. She was at the fire pits when he brought in a kill, and she was ascending to ride her ikran at the same time as him; she was even at the same swimming hole. When he wasn't running into her, he was thinking about her, and asking Kiri for anything she knew about the girl - which wasn't much. Just that she was quiet, seemed very much unlike her rash older brother, close to her family, and a very talented ikran rider; one of the most impressive in the clan.

Neteyam obsessed over her, going over every detail of her again and again in his mind; her tall stature, her soft, light voice, the concern in her eyes when she spoke to Kiri about her mother; he even dreamed about her at night.

He wondered what he had thought about, before he met her, and he wondered how it was possible that he had never before noticed someone like her.

Four days later, they were finally able to speak, when Neteyam ran into her just outside of Home Tree.

"Y/N," he said, jogging over to her. "How is your mother?"

He could see the relief in her eyes as she smiled. "So much better, thank you! Kiri is a miracle worker. I am trying to think of a gift for her, actually. What would she like? I could make a necklace, or…”

Netyeam blurted out the first thing he could think of. "A friend."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Oh? Well that's certainly an easy gift to give. After all, Lo'ak is already a friend."

Lo'ak was friends with Y/N? Since when? Jealously sparked in Neteyam. "Sit with my family, at the feast tomorrow. You can... talk to Kiri," he said. But of course, that wasn't why Neteyam wanted her to join his family.

She reached out, touching his arm just momentarily, and he froze up at her gentle touch. "I'd be glad to! Come find me before, so I don't wander around looking for you."

Mom was still tired, so the rest of my family was staying behind and skipping the celebratory feast, but my father insisted I go - especially after he found out I had been asked to sit with Lo'ak's family.

Or should I be referring to them as Neteyam's family?

Our meeting earlier had been so strange. The nervous energy around Neteyam was catching, and I felt a little anxious as I dressed for the feast. Mom painted my face, down to my chest, and the moment she was done, No'vu was announcing Neteyam's approach.

Wanting to avoid an awkward encounter with my family and the eldest son of Taruk Makto, I charged out of our alcove to meet Neteyam, waving and calling goodbye over my shoulder.

Neteyam looked stunned to see me charging towards him and I stopped, a little embarrassed at my eagerness. "Sorry," I said when I reached him. "Mom is still feeling a little sick. I didn't want to disturb her."

"Oh, sure," Neteyam nodded, and an awkward pause surfaced between us that I was unsure how to get over.

When I was with Lo'ak, he did most of the talking. Neteyam was a little more quiet than his younger brother.

"You look beautiful," he said, and my jaw nearly fell open.

I had been trying to figure out all day why Neteyam would invite me to sit with his family, as the idea of him hoping I would become friends with Kiri seemed unlikely, but I couldn't sort out another motive.

It seemed impossible that it could be because he wanted to spend time with me. After all, I could tell the other day when he and Kiri had come to visit mom, that when I said we'd met before, he had no recollection.

It had stung a little bit, but ever since then, he'd been looking at me so funny every time we ran into each other. If I didn't know better, I would've thought he was staring, but I couldn't figure out why.

"Thank you," I replied, casting my eyes downward. "Let's go!"

He extended his hand, and eagerly, I took it.

As we walked, Neteyam asked me about my ikran, and even though he couldn't have known, it was the easiest way to get me to open up. I talked about her the entire way; our first meeting, our best rides, everything we'd accomplished together and how much I loved her.

"She's my best friend," I said with a shrug. "I know that's kind of silly but she's just, so wonderful. You'll have to meet her."

"I would love to," Neteyam replied with a smile.

The festival was well underway when we arrived at the Tree of Souls, the drums pounding, the smell of spices and fresh food in the air.

Pulling my hand, Neteyam wove his way through the crowd, to the Tree of Souls, where his family and those closest to them sat.

Neteyam nodded to his father, who nodded back. "Father, this is Y/N, daughter of Onpxew and Eik Te."

"How's your mother?" Jakesully asked.

"Thank you, Olo'eyektan," I replied, touching my hand to my forehead, then lowering it as I bowed out of respect. "Much better, thanks to Kiri." I turned to smile at his daughter, who smiled back. Lo'ak, standing just next to her, waved, a confused look on his face.

"That's good to hear. Join us."

We stepped up, and I took a seat just next to Neteyam, between him and Kiri.

"I'm so glad your mom is doing better," Kiri said. I reached out and touched her shoulder.

"It's thanks to you! You'll have to stop by, she'll want to see you again when she's feeling fully herself."

Kiri smiled. "I will!"

Lo'ak leaned forward. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

I had to laugh, because it was so like Lo'ak to be blunt. Anyone else saying that would have made me feel awkward and out of place, sitting here with this prominent family, but Lo'ak was just genuinely wondering.

"Neteyam invited me. I haven't seen you much lately, so I had to make new friends."

Lo'ak rolled his eyes. "And of all people, you had to keep it in this family."

I shrugged. "I like this family."

Neteyam's father gave a long speech about the prosperity of The People, and Neytiri and Nina sang a beautiful song, and afterwards, the dancing begun.

Before Neteyam could ask Y/N himself, Lo'ak had swept her into the dance floor, leaving Neteyam to stand and watch, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

"What's wrong with you?" Kiri asked, trying to follow Neteyam's gaze, but the dance floor was moving too fast.

Then, she saw it. Lo'ak, spinning Y/N around, the both of them laughing and having fun. She'd always wondered if Lo'ak was secretly in love with Y/N, but the more she observed the two, the more she saw it was a poor fit, and neither of them was interested.

What she saw in Neteyam's eyes was very different. He was jealous of Lo'ak.

"You like Y/N," Kiri said.

"Of course I do. You've met her," Neteyam replied matter of factly, and Kiri laughed.

"I have. She's great. Lo'ak thinks so too, but he doesn't like her that way. He would have told her."

Neteyam narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't look that way to me. I didn't even know they were friends."

"How? She's one of his closest friends. You didn't notice?"

“I don’t know,” Neteyam said, reaching behind his head, shrugging at his sister. “It’s like I never saw her before.”

“Well, do you see her now?” Kiri asked, trying but failing to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Neteyam’s arm fell to his side, and he sighed. “She’s all I see.”

"Well, just tell her," Kiri replied, and Neteyam snorted.

But... it wasn't a bad idea.

Lo'ak and I had been spinning around for far too long, and I was growing tired. We returned to his family, but Neteyam was no longer there.

Lo'ak and I sat down, and he handed me a drink.

"Neteyam invited you to join us?" Lo'ak asked.

"Yeah. He came with Kiri the other day, to visit mom, and he's been like... acting a little funny since."

Lo'ak narrowed his eyes. "Hm." That was the extend of the wisdom he had to offer me, and I wish he was Kiri instead.

"Do you want to dance?"

I whipped my head around to see Neteyam standing over me, extending a hand, and I clambered onto my feet as fast as my lanky limbs would allow, grabbing his hand in the process, allowing him to lead me back into the crowd.

This dance was slower, more traditional, and though Neteyam knew all the steps and fell in sync with everyone else, I was a little unsure, and a little behind, fumbling over my feet. With Lo'ak, I didn't care, because I knew he didn't take it seriously - but Neteyam was so precise and perfect, I didn't want to mess up.

Halfway through the song, we were brought together again, his arm around my waist and mine around his neck. "Let's take a walk," he whispered, and without hesitation, I nodded.

Away from the crowd, the night was cool, and the paint we were adorned with glowed in the darkness, along with the forest around us. We walked quietly, our hands still entwined, and finally, Neteyam spoke.

"I must apologize to you, Y/N," he said, stopping us in our tracks. I turned to face him.

"What for?"

"The other day, in your home, you said we had met before, but I... I didn't remember meeting you before."

Though the words weren't a surprise, they stung; it meant I had spent years having a crush on someone who hadn't even noticed me, even though we'd frequently been in close proximity.

"That's okay, Neteyam. I'm just your little brother's friend. I don't know all of No'vu's friends either."

He shook his head. "No, but I should have noticed you, Y/N. I was busy with training, and preparing to lead the clan, and just recently I told my father I want to take a step back from all that. To enjoy life, to form... relationships."

To find a mate, he was saying, without saying it.

"And I think, if I hadn't been so focused, I would have noticed you. I can't believe I didn't before. Something about you..." he trailed off, staring down at me, and I wondered if he could hear my heart wildly beating in my chest, or feel my hand growing cold and clammy inside of his.

"Well, I noticed you," I said finally, as he searched for his next words. "I mean, of course everyone knows who you are... but when I became friends with Lo'ak, I really noticed you."

Finally, Neteyam's nervous face relaxed, slowly replaced by a teasing smile. "Oh yeah? What did you notice?"

"Well, I was only like 14, so at first not much. But then I noticed how handsome you were becoming, how skilled you are with a bow and a spear, how kind you were towards your family and friends... I had a crush on you, when I was 17."

"And now?" he asked, the teasing smile growing even wider still.

"Oh, I still think you're handsome," I replied with a laugh, giving him a playful shove.

"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever set eyes on, and the kindest as well, and I'd like to spend every spare moment from now forward getting to know you better," Neteyam said, and I could tell after, he was shocked that he had said it.

"Okay," I replied, unable to hide my smile.

"Okay?"

I nodded. "Let's do that. Spend time together. Get to know one another. I would like that." The joy I felt in that moment was undeniable, and overwhelming.

Neteyam's heart was going to leap out of his chest and onto the forest floor. He had blurted out exactly what he wanted - to spend every moment of every day obsessing over every small detail of her life that she was willing to share - and she had agreed to it.

She had eagerly agreed to it. He knew it was impractical to worship the ground she was walking on after only a few days, but he didn't care.

He was going to make this woman his mate, he knew it. He was going to fall in love with her - it was already happening.

"You are perfection," he said, reaching up to touch her face as he had been dreaming of doing. He ran his fingers along her jaw, over her cheek, down her nose and over her lips, and she closed her eyes, allowing him to. It sent a shiver up his spine.

No amount of time with her would be enough, but he would take anything she would give him.

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#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow

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