#at my inability to stand up currently

[yoimiya-supremacy]

dysautomnia+adhd is only remembering to take care of yourself at your worst times and waking up knowing you need to shower like you have to shower and physically not being able to perform activities until you have done the shower but you cannot physically shower as you will most likely pass out or have a migraine so sitting at the couch doing the hand flicky and the stretchy (safe stretchy) and drinking water and eating chips until you can safely assume you will not do the faint 4 minutes into a shower…helppppp…

[neverendingford]

.

[sturnioloskyline]

flu season

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: illness, crying, language, sickening fluff(get it?)

summary: you get the flu and don’t tell matt, so he gets worried takes things into his own hands

being sick sucks. no one knew that bettter than y/n, who was currently buried under blankets on her couch in her apartment in la. this morning she woke up sweating with a pounding headache and an inability to breathe through the congestion in her nose.

she called in sick to work and stayed in bed until noon before mustering up enough strength to get up and make a cup of ramen noodles. she then settled to watch a movie on the couch, where she ended up falling asleep.

not far away, matt nervously chewed on the skin in his cheek as he stared at his phone. he had sent 5 texts to his girlfriend today, none of them having received a response.

matt knew this meant something was wrong, because usually y/n would text him a sweet “good morning” the second she started her day. they weren’t fighting, at least that matt knew of, so of course matt was sent into a anxious spiral over the lack of responses from his girlfriend.

finally, matt ripped his eyes away from the screen, walking over to the kitchen where his two brothers were standing, giggling to each other. matt ignored them and grabbed his car keys from the counter, immediately catching the other triplets’ attention.

“matt, where are you going?” chris whined.

“y/n’s.” matt quickly replied, stuffing the keys into his pocket and heading for the garage. chris and nick immediately looked to each other in worry at the expression on their brother’s face.

“is everything okay?” nick asked matt cautiously.

“i don’t know, she isn’t responding to any of my texts,” matt rambled, putting on his shoes. “i’m just gonna go make sure she’s okay.”

matt rushed out the door before his brothers could say anything else. he got in his car and began driving over to y/n’s place. he chewed on his lip nervously as he drove, his anxiety only growing the longer he didn’t hear from y/n.

after what seemed like hours, matt parked outside y/n’s apartment building and made his way home to her front door. he rang the doorbell immediately and stepped back to wait for her.

inside the apartment, y/n jolted awake at the sound of her doorbell ringing. her head was throbbing in pain, her throat was scratchy, and the air in her living room felt ten times colder than it was when she fell asleep. she got up from her nest on the couch and shivered, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around herself.

the doorbell rang again, creating a sense of urgency as y/n tried to compose herself somewhat for whoever could be ringing her doorbell and disrupting her afternoon. she struggled to the door, messing with the lock weakly before finally swinging the door open.

“y/n,” matt sighed in relief immediately as y/n opened the door.

“matt?” y/n croaked out in shock. heat rose to her cheeks. she hadn’t invited matt over, and was unprepared for him to see her. matt and y/n had only been dating for a while, and she had never been sick around her ever. “what are you doing here?”

“i needed to see if you were okay. are you okay?” matt asked, his face scrunching slightly with worry once again as his eyes scanned over y/n’s pale face.

y/n didn’t know if it was the shock of her boyfriend showing up to her apartment, the embarrassment she felt from her sickly look, or how miserably sick she felt, but suddenly her eyes watered and her lip trembled as she shook her head at matt.

“oh, baby,” matt whispered, stepping into the apartment and wrapping his arms around y/n.

she immediately melted into his arms, a weight on her shoulders lifted as matt locked the door behind him and held y/n in his arms in silence. tears streamed down her cheeks as she sniffled into his jacket. matt leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“wanna sit down?” matt asked as y/n’s cries softened. y/n simply nodded, letting matt lead her back to the couch. when the sat down, matt wrapped one arm around y/n frame, letting her lean into him. “what’s wrong?”

“i caught the flu.” y/n sniffed, rubbing her sore eyes. “i feel like shit.”

“i’m sorry baby,” matt whispered into y/n’s hair, letting his fingertips graze up and down her arm.

“i’m sorry you have to deal with this,” y/n mumbled, suddenly shy of matt seeing her with her messy hair and in t-shirt and sweats.

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” matt scoffed, bringing his hand to her cheek and tilting her head up to place a soft peck on her lips. as if sensing her insecurity, matt giggled “you look so pretty right now.”

y/n blushed and leaned impossibly further into matt’s arms. “can you stay here with me?”

“of course,” matt spoke softly, pulling y/n closer to his chest. a few minutes later, y/n’s breathing slowed, and matt looked down at her head buried in his chest.

“babe?” matt whispered. y/n didn’t respond. matt smiled at his girlfriend’s sleeping figure before reaching over to grab one of the blankets from the couch and draping it over both of their bodies. matt leaned his face down to kiss the top of y/n’s head, before letting his own eyes flutter shut.

…

author’s note: pls don’t bully me this is my first try! i literally have never written on tumblr before and i haven’t written in like 2 years anyways, so. but if u have any advice or want a part 2 pls let me know!!!!!! OK BYE

[zyhkoo]

☆ till the light leaves my eyes

angst to fluff (?) gn! reader

Jason realized that he can’t let you go. part 1

a/n: heres part two!

Lately, Jason had found himself grappling with a host of unsettling thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he returned your affections, if he could feel the same way about you that you felt about him.

He knew that you brought joy and light into his life, and he couldn’t understand why he was unable to offer you the same. The question of why he couldn’t simply reciprocate your feelings weighed heavily on his mind.

The two of you were currently sitting in a cozy burger shop, surrounded by the warmth and commotion of a Saturday night. The aroma of sizzling burgers and crispy fries filled the air, a familiar and comforting scent. The clinking of silverware against plates and the buzz of chatter from other patrons filled the background, creating a soothing white noise.

You were intently focused on your phone, your expression a mixture of concentration and frustration. Your eyebrow was furrowed, and you were biting your lower lip as you navigated whatever was on the screen.

Jason casually glanced over at you, his eyes tracing your every move. He noticed the frustrated expression on your face and your furrowed brows. “Everythin’ okay over there?” he asked.

You briefly looked up from the screen, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, just frustrated,” you replied, putting your phone down on the table. “My friends are trying to set me up.”

Jason's heart sank a little as he heard your words, but he quickly masked the pain. "Oh, really?" he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "Who's the lucky guy?"

He could see the flush in your face as you scoffed, “Not you too..” you groaned, darting your eyes.

Jason raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. "What? Can't I be curious?” he teased. “Is it someone I know?” You rolled your eyes, a small grin on your face. “You're just as bad as my friends,” you replied, shaking your head. “It's no one you know, trust me.”

He didn't want you to know how much the idea of you dating someone else bothered him, but he knew that he couldn't stand in your way. “You should go for it,” he said, forcing a smile. “You never know unless you try, right?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, could he let go so easily? “You think so?” you blinked.

“Yeah, why not? It could be fun y’know.” He tried to sound encouraging, but the words felt like sandpaper on his tongue. Your eyes dart to your best friend then to your phone. Then you sighed, picking up your phone again “I’ll do it.”

Jason swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched you text back your friends. The idea of you going on a date with someone else made him feel nauseous.

Jason couldn't understand why the prospect of you dating someone else was bothering him so much. He shouldn't be concerned - it was your life, after all. So why did it feel like someone was physically squeezing his heart?

When you started dating someone else, Jason felt an aching emptiness within his heart. Despite the fact that the two of you continued to spend time together, he couldn't shake the pain and heartache of knowing that you now belonged to someone else.

He longed for the days when it was just the two of you, when the bond between you was uncomplicated and unbroken. It was as if a piece of him had been torn away, leaving a gaping hole that he struggled to fill.

As time went on, Jason noticed a gradual drifting apart between the two of you. Maybe it was because he had allowed you to spend more time with someone else, he thought.

He couldn't help but wonder if his inability to fully be with you, to reciprocate your feelings, had led to this gradual separation. The realization filled him with a sense of regret and melancholy, and he found himself grappling with the loss of the closeness once shared.

Jason couldn't help but feel that he had brought this upon himself. He believed that you deserved happiness and love, and he knew that he was unable to give you that. This realization only deepened his sense of guilt and self-blame, as he thought that he had driven you into the arms of another with his emotional unavailability.

The only moments you and Jason spent together now were during your joint patrol duties. The once frequent hangouts and relaxed times spent together had been replaced by moments of necessity and obligation.

Jason noticed that there was something different about your behavior during your patrol one evening. Once the patrol was finished, he decided to head over to your house, his concern growing with each step he took. He cautiously approached your window, giving it a gentle knock, hoping to catch your attention.

When you pulled back the curtains and saw Jason standing there in his full vigilante garb, your eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t every day that he paid you a visit in this fashion, and the sight was unexpected, to say the least.

You immediately slide open the window “Hi, is there anything you need?”

Jason stood there awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat “Can I come in?” he asked.

You nodded and stepped aside to allow him to climb through the window and into your room. He looked around, taking in your surroundings before focusing his attention back on you.

You sheepishly smiled “It’s a bit of a mess, I’m sorry.” you scratched your head. Jason's gaze roamed over the room, taking in the mess and disarray. He shrugged, "It's fine," he reassured you. "I've seen worse."

You couldn't help but notice that Jason hadn't addressed you by his usual nickname. It struck you as odd and out of character for him. You fidgeted nervously, your fingers tracing random patterns on the surface of your bed.

He wasn't particularly skilled with words, and he struggled to find the right thing to say. Jason asked, "Are you okay?"

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight and constricted. Words failed you for a moment before you managed to force out a response. "I'm..." you trailed off, your voice caught in the emotions you were trying to suppress.

Jason could see the turmoil in your eyes, picking up on the subtle signs of distress. He took a step closer, his expression one of deep concern. "You don't have to hide anything from me," he said gently.

You swallowed again, trying to push down the tightness in your throat. "It's just...been a tough few weeks," you finally managed to get out. “We broke up.”

Jason's expression shifted to one of shock as you revealed that you had just gone through a breakup. His eyes widened, and a mix of surprise and confusion registered on his face. He hadn't been expecting this revelation, and it seemed to hit him unexpectedly.

You had been dealing with the aftermath of a difficult breakup, and seeing Jason again after everything that had happened between you only added to the turmoil inside you. You were grateful for his presence, but the pain and confusion lingered, creating a tangled web of emotions.

Amidst the pain and heartache, there was one singular thought that echoed in your mind — the realization that the person you truly wanted was standing before you. All you longed for was Jason.

Your knuckles turned white as you clenched your fist tightly, the pain and frustration of the breakup. Your gaze flickered downward, finding it hard to meet Jason's gaze. "We just...couldn't make it work," you whispered, your voice shaky.

He hated seeing you like this, suffering and clearly hurting from the aftermath of a failed relationship. The urge to reach out and take away your pain was strong, but he knew he couldn't simply fix it with a few words or a simple gesture.

Instead, he took your clenched hand in his, gently prying your fingers open and intertwining them with his own. "I'm here for you," he said quietly, his voice steady and sincere. "You don't have to go through this alone."

Your eyes stung with tears as you pulled him into a tight embrace. The floodgates opened, and your emotions poured out in that single, desperate gesture. Jason's arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close, holding you together.

“I missed you.” your confession was soft, a mere whisper against his chest, but it echoed loudly in his ears. Jason's heart squeezed, a mix of emotions flooding his mind at your words. He pulled you closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

"Missed you too, doll." he replied, his voice thick with an unspoken weight. "So much."

“Days without you was so agonizing.” you whispered. He ran his hand gently over your back, a comforting gesture meant to soothe your heart. "I'm here now," he whispered, his voice gentle and firm. "I'm right here… and I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t love anyone else Jason. I only love you.” Your grip on him tightened, your voice shaking as you confessed your enduring love for him. Jason's heart ached at the pain and vulnerability in your words, and his own grip on you involuntarily tightened as well.

He was tired of resisting his feelings, of denying the truth that he had been fighting against for so long. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you again, of watching you slip through his fingers once more.

Jason's heart ached as he finally let go of his stubborn resistance, acknowledging the love he had for you that he had been trying to ignore. With a surge of determination, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him. He needed you to understand the sincerity of his words.

"Doll," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, "it's always been you. Ever since the beginning, it's only been you."

He pulled you closer, his eyes searching your face as if looking for confirmation that you were hearing the weight of his words.

"Please, believe me," he murmured, his voice ragged with emotion. "I'm done pretending. I can't keep denying what I feel for you." Your breath hitched, you gazed at his eyes. You were absolutely stunned, you had no idea what to say. “What.. what you feel?”

"What I feel for you," he repeated, his tone gentle but firm. "I..." he paused, the words catching in his throat for a moment. "I love you, doll."

Jason’s thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "I realized it too late, but I can't deny it anymore. I love you. I always have. I always will."

“Jason..” your voice trembles in a small whisper. He leaned in, meeting your lips in a kiss. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer to him as he melted in the taste and feel of you.

Your hands clenched the fabric of his jacket, a silent plea for him to stay close, to never let go.

He broke the kiss, his breathing wqs ragged. He rested his forehead against yours, his gaze still filled with intensity. "I know I've been an idiot," he murmured, his voice rough. "But I want to make it right. I want to be with you, doll. If you'll let me."

“I’ll love you till the day that I die.” you responded.

[mattitties]

sworn enemy - matt sturniolo

I don’t have many enemies in my life. I try to get along with most people, and even if I don’t like them, I do my best to be friendly no matter what. But there’s one person that I absolutely cannot stand: Matt Sturniolo.

I moved to LA about six months ago, and the triplets were some of the first people I met. I got close with Nick first, then Chris, and I attempted to get close with Matt, but he was so closed off and became outwardly rude to me every interaction we had. I have no idea why he hates me so much, but I will not tolerate him giving me that kind of attitude for no reason when I’ve tried to be his friend.

So I don’t try anymore. I’m over at their house more than I’m at mine, and I’ve gotten to the point of completely ignoring that asshole when he comes into the room. Is it rude to ignore someone in their own home? Sure, but none of this would be happening if he didn’t make it abundantly clear from day one that he has no interest in being my friend.

Nick and Chris invited me over tonight to watch a movie, so of course I accepted. Despite everything with Matt, I absolutely adore Nick and Chris and would never turn down an opportunity to spend time with them.

“Helloooo,” I say when I walk into the living room, where they’re already setting up the movie.

“Hey!” Nick smiles as he gives me a hug. “Movie’s almost ready, you wanna get some snacks?”

I nod and head to the kitchen, saying hello to Chris in the process. I’m so invested in rummaging through their fridge that I don’t even notice Matt walk into the room until he groans.

“Oh joy, look who’s here!” he says as I turn around.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you,” I tell him as I grab some drinks. “Just go back to your cave and it’ll be like I’m not even here!”

He rolls his eyes. “I can feel your presence even from there. Seriously, who invited her?”

“We did,” Chris says. “Come on dude, isn’t this getting a little old? It’s time to get over whatever dumb shit you have against her and grow up.”

Matt shakes his head as he takes a box of Goldfish to the couch. “Nah, I’m good. So what are we watching?”

“Oh, so now you wanna watch with us?” I ask. “Two seconds ago you were acting like it was the end of the world that I’m here.”

“Well, this is my house, and I should be able to watch a movie in my house even when little annoying creatures are sitting on my couch,” he smiles sarcastically at me.

I say nothing in response. He’s such a dick. 

“Oh, before I forget, do you want to come to TopGolf tomorrow night with us and our friends?” Chris asks me.

“I wish, but I’m going to a bar tomorrow night with my roommate,” I tell him.

“No worries, we’ll go another time. Matt’s not going either because he’s just too good for all of us, isn’t that right Matt?” Chris teases and pokes Matt’s stomach, earning a punch to his upper arm from Matt.

I roll my eyes at Matt’s clear inability to have any fun and sit back as the movie begins. 

I should not have gone out tonight. I’m having the worst night. I should have gone to TopGolf with Chris and Nick. All my life choices are being regretted. 

My roommate is currently in the bathroom probably sucking some random guy off, and I have somehow gotten in the middle of two drunk guys fighting over god knows what. The place is crowded and I’m being swallowed in a sea of people as I desperately try to get away from the fight before punches start being thrown. 

I’m unsuccessful. 

In the midst of the chaos, one of the guys accidentally nails me right in the eye as he goes to hit the other. He doesn’t even notice and continues going after him, but other people do notice. I really wish they hadn’t. I want nothing more than to just get out of there.

I push my way to the entrance and ignore the small crowd of people following me and asking if I’m okay.

“I’m fine,” I tell them, speeding up and breathing a sigh of relief when I make it outside.

The pain in my eye doesn’t even register until I open my camera and see it: red, bloody, and already starting to swell. I’m tearing up, and I can’t tell if it’s from the pain or from the disaster that is tonight. I need to go home, but there’s no way I’m going back inside to get my roommate, and she definitely won’t see if I text or call her. I could Uber, but I’m terrified of Ubering alone, especially in Los Angeles at 11 PM. I don’t want to bother Nick and Chris while they’re out, even though I know they would drop everything to get me. 

A pit in my stomach rises as I click Matt’s contact name and text him.

are you up? kind of in a situation here and need a ride

Bruh

Call someone else

i wouldn’t ask unless i really needed help

please

I hate how desperate I sound, especially to him, but I’m cold and scared and in pain, so at this point I really don’t care.

Jesus fine where are u

I send him my location and wait. He pulls up ten minutes later, and I do my best to hide my tear stained and bloody face as I get in the car.

“Thank you so much,” I tell him, trying to control my shaky voice. “I’m really sorry, I just–”

“Are you okay?” he asks. I’m barely looking at him, but I can feel him staring at me. 

“Yeah, why?”

He turns my face towards him with his thumb. His eyes widen when he sees my eye, which definitely looks worse than it did 10 minutes ago. “Dude! What the fuck happened???” 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I tell him, my eyes starting to well up again. 

“You’re not fine. What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Nobody did anything, I swear. Two guys were just fighting and I couldn’t move fast enough and I got hit. It’s my fault, but I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt,” I explain unconvincingly as I start to cry. 

“If it doesn’t hurt, why are you crying?”

“Because I just wanna go home, Matt! Can you just take me home?” I sob.

“Okay, okay,” he says gently as he switches gears to drive. “Can I take you to my house? We need to clean up that eye.”

I nod and look out the window as he drives us home. He is the absolute last person I want to see in this state. I know he’s going to use this against me in a few days and he’s never going to let me live it down. 

When we get to the triplets’ house, I make a beeline for Matt’s bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. 

“Oh my god,” I mumble. I look awful. My eye is completely swollen and it’s turning purple. I have a gash in my cheek. “Why the fuck did I go out tonight?” I say as Matt walks in behind me. “I have to go to work looking like this! I’m not gonna make any tips! People are gonna throw up looking at me!”

“Okay, calm down,” he tells me. “Sit on the toilet. I’m gonna clean it and get you some ice and then you can just chill here, okay?”

I nod and sit down on the toilet lid as he gets a cotton ball and some hydrogen peroxide. He tilts my chin up to look at him. “Little sting,” he mumbles. I scrunch my face at the feeling of the peroxide on the cut. “I know, I’m sorry, almost done.”

He dabs the cut a few times and throws the cotton ball out. “Come on,” he says, motioning me to get up. “Go lay down and I’ll get ice.”

I silently oblige and lay on his bed, giving him a small smile when he returns with some ice chunks in a ziplock bag covered in a paper towel. 

“It’s the best I could do,” he says when he hands it to me. “We don’t have any actual ice packs.”

“It’s great, thank you.”

He lays down next to me and turns on the TV. I’m not even paying attention. All I can think about is trying not to ask the one thing I desperately want to know. I almost keep myself from saying it, until it just comes out of my mouth like word vomit.

“Why don’t you like me?”

He looks at me, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “What?”

I immediately regret everything, but I ask again. “Why don’t you like me? I mean, Nick and Chris both like me, so I would assume you would too, but like… did I do something to you?”

He sits up and turns the TV off. “I dropped everything tonight to come save you from a bar. Why don’t you think I like you?”

“You’re just so mean to me. You have been since the day we met. And I don’t understand what I did to deserve that. If you don’t like me, that’s fine, I just want to know why.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I do like you. I never meant to make it seem like I don’t, I thought we were just playing around. Like friends tease each other, ya know?”

“Well yeah, but… you’ve never done anything to make me think we’re friends, so…”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but then closes it.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothin. Do you want to stay here tonight? I can get you something to change into.”

“Oh,” I reply, completely taken aback by this. “Yeah… yeah, that would be nice. Thank you.”

He offers me a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt which I take into the bathroom and change into, discarding the ice pack in the process. I take another look in the mirror and sigh.

“God, I look fucking disgusting,” I say when I climb back into his bed.

“You look beautiful,” he says so quietly I have to double check if I even heard him correctly.

“Don’t tell me that just because you feel bad for me.”

“I’m not.” He turns on his side to face me. “You are beautiful.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

His eyes are moving between my eyes and my lips. I’m starting to put the pieces together, and it’s terrifying. 

“Because I’m tired of pushing my feelings down and making it your problem,” he says. I don’t say anything, I just give him time to explain. “I didn’t want to like you because you were Nick and Chris’ friend first, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. I thought being a dick would make my feelings go away. It didn’t.”

“I like you, Matt,” I whisper. “I have since I first met you. It made me so sad to think that you didn’t like me. And I’m sorry I’ve also been mean to you.”

“Don’t be sorry, I deserved it,” he says. “Do you still hurt?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Good,” he says before lightly holding my cheek and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I freeze for a moment, not fully processing what’s happening, and then I hold his wrist and kiss him back, our lips moving perfectly together.

It’s clear that neither of us have any intention of taking it further tonight. We continue to kiss for just a couple minutes until we separate, doing nothing but staring into each others’ eyes. 

“Goodnight, Matt,” I say.

“Goodnight.”

[eachuisge-cc]

Honestly I'm astounded that nobody has taken that name yet.

Do you dislike the look of vanilla Skyrim horses? Are you tired of riding some kind of Clydesdale/Belgian/Cob thing around fantasy Scandinavia for no clear reason? Do you want your beloved and loyal horse to stand out from the crowd as much as you do? Well great news, this mod covers all of those things.

Basically I made some significant edits to the horse model including a fuller, longer mane and tail, redone feathering, somewhat more realistic conformation, and entirely redone ears because at a certain point it was just easier to make new ones. None of the changes affect how the horse fits the vanilla rig so it still bends and moves without distorting weirdly. The textures are entirely painted from scratch and have new normals to go with them that are meant to give the horses a somewhat softer, more natural look that still fits with Skyrim's general vibe. I used references of primarily North Swedish and Dole horses, but also borrowed from the wider range of colors and patterns in Icelandics because I couldn't give up the pintos.

Current Features:

Asymmetrical coats/markings, because I fully redid the UV while I was messing with the mesh (mostly because mirrored pinto horses in video games are the bane of my existence)

Distinct meshes for mares and stallions, the mare model is closer to the vanilla horse's conformation, while the stallion model has a slightly bulkier build and thicker neck, and a an unobtrusive low poly dong.

Five generic solid-coated textures that appear on most NPC horses in the world.

Unique texture for each purchasable player horse

Unique texture and model for Frost (he's now a mealy chestnut as his papers claim)

Unique Shadowmere

Unique Karinda (this mod does NOT add Karinda into the game, but her texture should show up if you have CRF or another mod that does add her, as long as it doesn't alter her texture or base model)

Unique Hearthfire stable horses (purchasable through the steward)

Unique unsaddled stable horse in Markarth because uh, I just felt like it

Unique coats for a growing number of modded follower horses (see the mod page for the list)

Future plans: see the mod page

Compatibility:

This mod should be compatible with just about everything, as long as it doesn't also change the colors or models of the horses. It should also work with any version of Skyrim SE/AE. It is NOT compatible with Immersive Horses, because IH uses its own horse models and textures.

I will not personally be making patches for other mods because there's no way I could possibly keep up with that and I'd rather spend the time and energy on the mod itself, however I encourage anyone else who wants to to make whatever patches are needed. Please message me if you do so I can link them here for people to find.

Huge thanks to SassiestAssassin, who has been an incredible help in navigating the learning curve of editing nifs (and is continuing to be a huge help with solving my inability to make patches), and also has a lot of fantastic mods you should check out.

Download:

Nexus Mods

[gladiatorcunt]

i’m thinking about modern!coryo again… ‘n the way he’d just love humiliating you. when you’ve been particularly bratty (let’s be real, any time you tell him no he thinks you’re being defiant… no matter the circumstances), he loves to shove your face into the mattress so your ass is facing him, and grip your hips, teasing his cock against your entrance until you’re whining and begging for him to fuck you. but he doesn’t! he just lets his cock slap against your clit and tease your slick hole until you’re soaking your panties. his favourite thing though, is filming you take his cock, because even though he’d never let anybody see the videos (besides maybe his friends), he gets off on the way you’re whining for him to put the phone away as he fills you up, pearly cum sliding down your soft thighs. but he won’t, because he just loves the way you’re absolutely humiliated at the thought of somebody seeing how much of a whore you are for him

CW: anal, sejanus mention (throuple au tease), typical coryo type warnings, yandere/possessive & obsessive behavior, gn reader but there is feminization (reader calls themselves a "good girl", coryo calls your pussy "sweet girl" & assigns it she/her pronouns), blood (coryo has a fantasy of you tearing), accidental slight pet play/dumbification, my modern coryo's typical inability to understand/care about poor(er) people, the ending is inspired by ghostface's finishing move in dbd, implied plus sized reader (who's afab) he loves you really.

So true, you could do something as small as say “i want to be alone in the bathroom for 5 minutes” and he’d lose his shit. Something about that arrogant rich boy behavior turned up to 100 because he’s inherently a psycho….. like he loves you deeply but wdym his prized possession has a mind of their own (if you just decided to do everything he wants, he’d support you making your own decisions). His whole vibe was being untouchable and unavailable but now it’s coming apart. Like do you know how much he planned to hoe around when his family inevitably made him get married??? But now you’ve fucked it all up and made him feel like he’s constantly writhing around in every circle of hell fr.

So yeah, he can’t take it if he feels like you aren’t “putting in as much effort” as he is. And i don’t mean that he’d be pissed if you’re not cooking or cleaning, i mean that he’d be peeved if you weren’t matching his energy (batshit balls to wall insane). He’ll do a little cute open palm wave like “Hi, baby 🥰” when you look at him over your shoulder with tears in your eyes. King of false sympathy with all the cooing and mocking your facial expression (which you wouldn’t even have to make if you were behaving). His weird ass is completely naked even though he made you keep your clothes on, and he tore a hole in your leggings with his teeth for easy access.

He’ll put his dick in between your ass cheeks and fuck you like that until the sheets are soaked because you got so desperate (you nearly pissed yourself). He’ll press the head against your asshole and see how deep he can get before you realize that he’s using the wrong whole. Sometimes he wishes that he’d tug his cock from your hole to find the whole thing covered in blood. If you catch on him, he’ll just say that it was an accident. But to be real, you knew immediately. It just gets you hot watching him go on his little power trips. The pleasure of letting your rabid dog off of his leash but he thinks it’s his idea does something to you that you’re currently ignoring.

The iPhone camera you can see from the standing mirror by your bed doesn’t exactly catch you off guard. Coryo’s got a fair few videos of you getting backshots in his family’s limo and even more of him devouring your pussy anytime and anywhere he pleases. Your stomach rolls with shame but your pussy clenches in arousal. A big part of being able to handle being his s/o means having the ability to straddle the line between calling his bluff and baring your neck in submission. So you just whine pleadingly and let your head fall forward onto the pillow.

You'd never admit that there are times where you'd be perfectly happy if your ass was all he fucked; that on mornings when the sunlight beams down on you as Coryo pushes the velvet curtains from the large penthouse windows and all you can see out of the eye that's not smothered in the pillow is your boyfriend in a pair of gray sweatpants, you feel feral with the need to swallow his cock all the way to the base and lie there forever.

A "love tap" to your clit brings you out of your thirsting. When all you do is gasp, you receive a firmer strike.

"Don't tell me you're already out of it? Did I make my smart baby all stupid already?"

"Hngh~ Uh huh, don't stop..." You beg, the carefully maintained image of the prim and proper perfect student crumbling under his touch.

Your need to be praised and to have male approval can really be a curse sometimes, because outside of the bedroom you don't let yourself be as willing of a kept pet as Coryo wants. But as soon as you're alone, you gratefully sink into the safe space he creates for you where you can just... let go and have someone else think for you for a change.

It feels like bolts of electricity go through you when two of his fingers start to trace letters on your pussy lips. It makes you think of his family crest branded on the gates of their mansions.

C-O-R-I-O-L-A-N-U-S S-N-O-W, pinching your clit after every letter. (training)

"That's okay, I like you dumb anyway. Can't use that big brain to think about anything else but me when I get this dick in you." He says and wags it in his hands at you like it's a treat.

The bed creaks as he sits back on his heels, and like a good girl you parts your legs as far as they can go.

Welcome Home.

The heavy weight of his palms clutching your hips calms any lingering anxiety, his nails bite into your flesh but you know he'll be licking and nuzzling the marks soothingly later. He's told you how beautiful you are in the beginning, that he relishes in the way you give up all tension to him with a sigh; that one of his favorite versions of you is the you that shuts down. Has him feeling like the "family man" he always vowed to never turn into.

"Now, you know the drill, take a deep breath..." He pants, somehow already pussy drunk, "It's going to be a tight fit, dove."

His grip tightens as he feeds his tip to your clenching hole, you soak in the mutters of 'aw, I missed you too, sweet girl.' You know he wasn't talking to you.

Your breath hitches when you start taking him past the tip, and like always, Coryo wraps a hand around the nape of your neck and massages it to distract you from the inevitable sting of pain. It'll always be there no matter how much of a mess he's made of your cunt.

"That's my dumb bunny, biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig stretch." He grunts, dragging his words out when the thickest part of his cock comes to greet you.

You moan when he takes his other hand off of your hip to reach it around and rub your twitching clit. More juices drip from your hole, making the remaining inches slide in a lot easier.

You hear shuffling and the bed creaks as Coryo leans over to grab something off the nightstand. He quickly finds what he's looking for and settles back into position behind you. He gropes one of your ass cheeks and gives it a couple long squeezes before he jiggles it, letting out a low whistle when he does it again.

You mewl impatiently, clenching your pussy around his long cock. He doesn't give you what you want, however, until almost a minute later. He jostles his hips against your ass, showing off for the camera that's focused down on where the two of you are connected.

Coryo's head shoots up when he hears you sniffle, and even though he could tease about how much of a needy whore you are, you're HIS needy whore so he only smiles.

"Alright, alright. 'M sorry, petal, I know your pussy's gagging for this dick. I'll give her what she wants, don't you worry."

Your mouth falls open on a silent moan as he leisurely drags his length out of you until the tip catches on your entrance; being forced to be broken down and rebuilt around it until you both turn to ash. He has never wanted anything more than he wants you to somehow grow to only survive of his own body. His blood would be your water, his very dna would be your floss, his bone marrow would soothe your raw throat, his organs would be your snacks, his bones would be your jewelry, his teeth would be your little trinkets, and his surrounding flesh would be your every meal until you could eat no more.

You have no idea how much of your boyfriend's time has been spent making sure he tastes delectable, in every way.

Like those people from Pompei who are forever immortalized in the arms of their lover, chained to the passage of time but the eyes that dust them off are the only things about them that change.

You made him watch Titanic once, saying that your MasterChef binge could be paused for a night. He huffed but complied, and gun to his head, he wiped his tears on the arm of the couch before you could notice that he was crying. Rose could've done a little more to help Jack in his opinion (they both could have fit on the wood), he'd have never just let you go like that. But there was something in the way all they really had in the world was each other, in how calm the old couple was as the water creeped into their room; because they were together, and to Coryo, death after a very very long and happy life is an experience that's meant to be shared (no matter the circumstances).

His body has been moving on autopilot during his usual mid-sex spiral monologue. There's ringing in his ears as he tunes back into your hiccup-y whines and high-pitched moans (he loved when you stopped being so fucking shy). His thrusts had gradually sped up until they were at the speed they were now, your bodies now making wet smacking sounds as his dick pulverizes your pussy. He had been so lost in thought that he nearly dropped his phone, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was still recording.

He removes his death grip on your ass cheek to slap your swaying tits one after the other. He can never resist showing love to the chub of your tummy either, so he hits that too.

"Yeah, you like that, bunny?" He sneers, tonguing your ear and gnawing at the lobe as the excess saliva trickles down the valley of your breasts.

It's a rhetorical question, of course you do.

But you answer, using your words like he often "urges" you to.

"Like it so much, Coryo.... fuck!"

His thrusts become even faster, and he gathers as much of your hair in his hand as possible. Your moans cut off into a gasp as he wrenches your head up off the pillow by your hair, bringing the phone around to put your tear-stained face into frame.

You're helpless to do anything but take every inch he slams inside your puffy cunt, which will no doubt be sore and red by the time Coryo's done with his latest fit. He bends down to whisper in your ear about braindead you look, sobbing with your eyes glazed over and your mouth gaping.

"Shh, that's it, keep going baby. It's all about you, these'll just be fun memories so I can have little parts of you forever, so you could never really leave me."

You never look away from the camera though, and he's suddenly overcome with so much gratitude that he uses his grip on your hair to bring you into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss; your tongues making it so wet you'd think he'd been eating your pussy nonstop with how soaked the lower half of his face gets.

He doesn't let you pull away, the impulsive french kissing only ends so he can lean his head against yours and get into the shot with you. He's smiling so warmly like you're taking a selfie on one of your numerous vacations, but his hips never stop their rough assault on your already thoroughly debauched pussy. Coryo tightens his hold on your hair and pecks your round cheek when you whimper due to the sting.

"Smile, petal."

The videos are kept in a locked folder on his phone titled “💍💒", and while he threatens to show his friends (in actuality he’d only show sejanus in some version of this au where he’s trying to force him into a throuple), he’ll apologize with his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipples once he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. If you’re really upset, he’ll offer to make up to you on his father’s yacht in Greece. (he has your bags packed already)

faetreides 2024. request rules. please consider tipping/reblogging if you enjoyed!

[yaut-jaknowit]

Wazzuh homie. Got another idea, what about a fic with AP (upgrade pred/assassin pred) with a male reader who lowkey just can’t feel pain and ends up constantly getting hurt because of it- cue a broken nose in a spar and not even noticing it.

Thought it might be fun to write and as always have a nice day and I shall repay you with more edits if you want:D

Take A Hit

Pairings: AP (Assassin Pred) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 2220

Summary: On a mothership, surrounded by other hunters, you spar against a young blood. His skill is evenly matched to yours. A spar to level yourself up on the charts. With CIPA, you can’t feel pain or temperature difference. You break an arm, you keep fighting. You get cut, you keep fighting. The Yautjas are amazed at your ability that allows you to push through. An ability some are even jealous of. But pain allows for them to toughen up.

Author Note: It feels like forever since I've written for AP. Man needs some love. Took me a moment to warm up to him but the sizeeeee.... delicious!

Masterlist

Ao3

There’s a tournament going on currently. Each group is carefully picked out for their skills and strength. All of them Yautjas. Then, here was you. A ooman amongst their ranks, wiggling your way through the ranks and heading towards the top. No one believed in. Besides Assassin.

No one messed with Assassin. Except you. Similar with their ranks, you’ve wormed your way passed his hard, nearly impenetrable exterior, and into his heart. That’s why he stands in the sideline, others giving the giant space. He silently cheers for you win, for you to come out on top despite everything else against you. A human.

Before the latest match starts, you are standing in front of Assassin. Both of his massive hands cup your shoulders and kept you pressed to the fronts of his thighs. Not that he didn’t trust your ability, he whole heartily did. He didn’t trust others. There was a large dispute about your presence on the mothership. He quickly shot every argument down… with his fists. No one stood in his way again after that display.

Your head tilts back to find his bright, yellow eyes on you. “It’s going to be a tough one, Assassin. They’ve got me against, Diqrt. He’s got a score of eight to two,” you spoke directly to him and ignored everyone around you.

A grunt left him. His gaze flickers over to your opponent on the other side of the mat, waiting for his turn. Assassin couldn’t wait for when you wiped the floor with his face. He doesn’t like count the wins before they happen, but he knows you will win. The opponent may not know it yet, by the way he keeps smirking as if he already won. But, soon, he’ll meet his loss.

Finally, he looked back down at your alien face and patted your shoulder. “You know what to do,” he rumbled. There was one special trick you had that gave you a massive advantage against your opponents each time.

The inability to feel pain.

Some Yautjas would kill for an ability such as that. Others have seen it as a curse. But you, you use it to take down your enemies.

You reached up and placed your hand over his. Yours barely covered the back of his hand. “Kick ass and take names. I know, I know,” you groaned and shook your head. With the match soon to start, you pulled your shirt off of your body and handed it to Assassin. Another lesson he taught you. Less clothing? Less to grab.

A bell rang. “It’s my turn now.” You swiftly double checked over your weapons before slipping out from underneath his hands. “May Paya guide my hand.” Assassin let you leave to enter the ring and dipped his head, silently returning the words to you. He crossed his arm, a stern expression falling over his features. No one dared to step an inch closer to the mutant. Or else they’ll met with Cetanu shortly enough.

Diqrt was a head taller than you but around the same age as you. His strength surpassed yours but your skills made up for it, including CIPA.

A referee entered the square mat as well. A well aged warrior who has seen her fair share of battles throughout her life. The scars that decorated her form spoke more words than she could tell you. You didn’t miss the way she sneered in your general direction. Instantly, you knew if Diqrt pulled any games or tricks, she wouldn’t call him out for it. A game you needed to play carefully.

It’s a sight you were used to. But, you built your path up this far by yourself. They had no reason to act as if you cheated. Assassin has helped along the way, but teaching you how to fight, to defend. Never to build your path for you. He’s the only one who truly believes you can complete these matches. Everyone else only sees you as a weak, meek human. You couldn’t wait to show them how wrong they were.

The referee points to the respected spots the two of you needed to be at. You stepped up to the plate. Your opponent doing the same thing. The two of you eyed each other up before placing a hand on each other’s shoulder and giving a firm shake. Respect. Then, you both took the two steps away and got into position.

Not everyone’s eyes would be on you. But, you knew a lot would be watching. The human that has defeated the odds. Why not give them a show?

“Go!” the ref showed suddenly. Your coiled muscles rolled forward and easily dodge a swipe of claws meant to mar your chest. Able to feel pain or not, bleeding out is still on the table.

A dagger was unsheathed from its holder that framed your chest. It spun gracefully in your grasp as the two of you danced around each other. But you weren’t one for a dance competition. You flicked the dagger in your hands. It soared through the air. Swiftly, you pulled out another one and dashed forward. The blade was knocked to the side, as planned.

The distraction working to plan. You were able to thrust the blade into a weak spot along his armor. Armor that slightly restricted his movement but allowed for protection along his belly. Until, a thin blade finds the perfect slit to pierce his hide.

You ripped the blade out and rolled away, barely missing the heel of his foot. A grin plastered its way onto your face. Diqrt snarled and lunged forward at you half knelt body. He catches you. His weight doubled of yours and crushed the air out of your lungs. A wheeze left your lungs. But, you are rolling with him and fought your way to the top.

Claws rake across your face. Blood sprouting to the spilt surface and dripping down your face. You’re forced to scramble away from him and glared at him through the blood dripping down your skin. It blurs your vision. His dark blue scales blending in with the dark room itself. You growled and tightened your grip on the handle.

The dark form was hard to see but you were able to narrowly dodge a fist heading for your head. The air above your head taking the hit. You shot out your leg and hit him directly in a weak point on his ankle. He snarled his pain and collapsed down on the opposite knee. You go for a punch to his face in hopes to knock him out but your fist is caught. The limb is forced down until it reaches an unnatural angle before the bone gives. You feel the bone snap at the joint. You grunt with annoyance, knowing you couldn’t use the limb anymore. The blade falls out of your limb hand and bounces off of the mat at your feet.

Now, you were forced to use your non dominant hand to defend yourself. You pulled out another blade and backed away when he got back to his feet. There was a smirk on his stupid face. “What? A ooman can’t handle the big dogs?” he snarked and marched towards you. You rolled your eyes and ducked when he attempted to snatch your neck.

You make a move to get behind him and kicked him in the back of his knee. He grunted and fell back down but rolled forward and spun around. Diqrt lunged forward, fist slamming straight into your face. Your head whipped back with the force.

It was impossible to breath out of your nose, forcing you to pant through your mouth. Your lips curled up in smirk. He thought all of this, these injuries would drag you down. Never. Blood ran down from my nose and dripped down onto the mat, joining the neon blood of Diqrt. You swiped out your tongue and tasted it yourself.

When he darted back into your space again, you leaned out of the way then drove your blade into his wrist. Payback is a bitch.

The Yautja howled, head reared back. If this was a fight to the death, this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to drive a blade into his neck too. But, it was a shame it wasn’t. Maybe when they open up to the deathmatches again. You would love to teach them how much of a danger you are. Little but mighty.

The blade twisted, ruining the tendons in his hand. Diqrt yanked himself away from you and cradle his destroyed wrist close to his chest. You stood in the same spot and gazed at the injured Yautja with a smirk. Despite the injuries that would’ve downed any normal person, you straightened your stance. Blood continued to drip down your face, forever staining the mat.

Diqrt bowed his head. “I yield,” he muttered under his breath. You pumped your uninjured hand in the air with a roar that echoed around you.

A female referee reentered the arena. Your name falls from her mandibles. “The winner of the fourth tournament,” she announces and uses an arm to point towards your smiling, proud form. Then, the match ended. You calmly walked over to your thrown blade to pick it up before strutting off the mat towards Assassin. The male was expressional but his eyes shined with pride.

When you got close enough, he place a hand on your chest, above your heart. “Wonderful match, little one,” he cooed. You beamed brightly then reseated your blade. In the safety of your quarters, you would clean each blade carefully. Each wound properly taken care of. For now, your limp wrist hung at your side. This break would need to be seen by a healer.

You stepped back enough to card your digits between his and hold onto his hand. “I couldn’t have done without you, Assassin. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me,” you spoke softly, words only meant for him. No one deserved these words besides the Yautja in front of you.

Assassin grunted then pulled at your arm. The giant parted the crowd as the two of you left. Normally, you would’ve stayed to watch the rest of the matches but they wounds needed to be cared for.

Through the halls of the ship he knew like the back of his hand, he took you a floor up. It wasn’t long before the two of you arrived at the healers section. Many of them prepared for a night like this. It was usual a blood bath on tournament nights. Today was no different.

At the sight of Assassin, the two of you were ushered to the front of other waiting young bloods. You didn’t care if you had to wait, the pain… well it didn’t bother you at all. You smiled to yourself at the thought. The others, they were probably aching, anger at your treatment. You felt their gaze on you but your head was held high, holding the hand of a dangerous Yautja at your side.

Over the course of probably three minutes, they had set your wrist and used a cast to keep it in place. It wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. Their advance technology easily took care of it.

As for the cuts, Assassin insisted he could take care of those himself. Then, the two of you were back in the safety of your shared quarters. Before you had a chance to slip off the weapon harness around your chest, Assassin was unclipping the buckles. You raised a brow at his eagerness. Not that you weren’t thankful for his help. The brace that kept your hand steady made it a little difficult to move your fingers. Plus, if the man wants to help, why not?

His hands drifted down to the knot that kept your shorts around your waist. The grin on your face widened. “I don’t think I was injured down there, Assassin,” you teased but did nothing to stop him. The two of you have been toeing with each other for some time. You were waiting for a moment like this.

Assassin didn’t stop. One of his hands snatched your throat in a tight grasp and pulled you close to his face. The tips of toes barely touching the ground. “I know. I’m on a different mission. I’m done waiting,” he snarled. His voice giving away to the emotions swirling inside of him. You laughed and let him pull off the clothing from your hips. Now, you were only adorned in a pair of boxers.

“Finally,” you snorted and worked on his own belt. It was more complicated than your simple knot. But he tightened his hold, cutting off both air and blood to your head.

“No, I control. You listen.” You raised a brow at his action then shook your head in disbelief.

“What makes you think I’ll just submit to you willy-nilly?” you snarked and rolled your eyes. There’s more of a chance for him to snap your neck, but he wouldn’t.

Something flashed in his eyes. His free hand cupped your growing bulge in your boxers. A gasp tore from your throat at the sudden pleasure. “That’s why.” Fuck yourself. You were in it for the night.

[inmyfxith]

Blessed Union

Pairing: Neteyam x human!reader

Summary: Neteyam and you are in a serious relationship, but Neytiri and Jake believe your inability to procreate makes it impossible. Eywa sees your love and blesses you with a spiritual pregnancy.

A/N: Neteyam and you are around 20.

Warnings: None

Words: 3k3

-> Requested

Pandora was a remarkable place, not only because of its breathtaking biodiversity, but also because of the beings that inhabited this distant moon from your birthplace. In just a few short years, your human existence had completely changed. You had gone from a human lost in a wonderland to the potential future partner of the leader of a recognized clan.

Sitting on top of a hill, you watched the sunrise. The sky was painted with shades of pink and orange, and the clouds seemed to glow with the rising sun. A feeling of peace suddenly washed over you as you enjoyed the beauty of the landscape. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill your lungs and the first rays of the sun warm your skin.

When your eyes opened again, the sun was already above the horizon, casting its scorching glow over the forest. You sat there for a while, simply enjoying the solitude and peacefulness. It was a moment of pure beauty and serenity. A shadow passed through the sky so quickly that it took you a few minutes to realize that it was Neteyam's ikran floating in the air to join you.

“You look so handsome up there,” you called out to him as he gracefully landed next to you. Neteyam's smile was nothing short of infectious as he came to sit next to you.

“Thank you, my love,” he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on the top of your head, your face being inaccessible due to your exopack. You felt your cheeks flush and a warmth spread through your body. Moments like these always reminded you of how lucky you were to have Neteyam in your life. He was not only physically attractive, but also kind and loving, and your love was special.

As tradition dictated in his clan, upon the death of his father, Neteyam would become the new Olo'ektan, the leader of his clan, and you knew he was working hard to live up to his father's greatness.

“My love,” he began, “we’ve been together for long and I can’t imagine going through this journey without you by my side.” Neteyam took your tiny hand into his. “You have been a constant source of strength and support for me, and I know that you would be an amazing tsahik.”

Your heart filled with pride and joy as you listened to his words. Your hands found their way to his cheeks and your thumbs caressed his soft, blue skin. “I promise to do my best to live up to your efforts. I am proud of you, Neteyam, and so honored to be able to stand by your side,” you said. The young man leaned in to place another kiss on the top of your head, his eyes shining with love and determination.

Together, you remained there for a moment, enjoying the moment, knowing that your love was strong enough to weather any storm.

As a human, it had taken you some time to adapt to Neteyam's clan. Due to the actions of your kin, many Na'vi had been hostile to your presence in the High Camp, and you often had to endure disguised criticism or whispered conversations in a language you were not yet fully familiar with. Over time, tensions had eased somewhat, it was still too early to talk about trust, but the Omaticaya were now more affable towards you. Bringing fruits and other herbs collected on the way to the laboratory to the family of your beloved, your run was however stopped when you heard voices rise from the hut of the current Olo'ektan, Jake Sully, Neteyam's father. According to what you could perceive, Jake was in the company of his wife, Neytiri. Not wanting to disturb them, you simply waited near the hut, becoming an involuntary witness to their conversation.

“We must do something, Jake,” Neytiri began, her voice full of concern, “It seems clear that Neteyam's mate is not able to bear children. As the future Olo'ektan, it is his duty to produce offspring for the clan. With her around, our future is in danger.”

“I understand your concern, talking to them will probably not be a viable solution. They seem to love each other deeply, and it would be unfair to end their love in the name of tradition. Maybe we could find a way to...convince him to let go of this relationship and choose a mate who can fulfill his duties as a leader,” Jake replied. His mate sighed, pacing around the hut.

“I know you're right, but what other options do we have? I don't like the thought of causing Neteyam pain, but you're right. The needs of the tribe must come first. We'll have to find a way to gently persuade him to see reason."

Understanding the terms of the conversation taking place under the tent, your heart tightened. The basket filled with fruit that you held in your hands hit the ground, spilling its contents on the ground of the camp. Without a word, you ran out of the Omaticaya's cave, tears rolling down your cheeks as you delved into the forest. You couldn't bear the thought of losing Neteyam and everything you had built together. Your foot hit a root, causing you to fall to your knees. Holding your head in your hands, you hadn't realized that the Tree of Voices was now rising in front of you.

Minutes passed without you being able to stop crying. A hand rested on your shoulder, and without even looking up, you knew that Neteyam had arrived.

"Y/N, what's wrong?”

“I-I heard your parents talking,” you choked out, your voice shaking with emotion. “You need a mate who can have children, and I can’t do that. I-I just don’t want to lose you.”

Neteyam knelt down beside you, taking your small body in his arms and offering you all the comfort you needed. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “I don't care about having children. I just want to be with you. You're the only one that matters to me.” You sniffled and looked up at him, your eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him before burying your face in his chest again. He held you tightly, as if to prove to you that no one could ever stand between him and the woman he loved. As you gradually regained your senses, sitting on Neteyam's lap with your face against his chest, you quietly meditated, trying to erase from your mind what you had heard.

“Y/N, open your eyes,” Neteyam whispered to you again. When you did, dozens of woodsprites were floating in the air, surrounding Neteyam and you. Admiring the spectacle that the goddess Eywa was offering you, you extended your hand, palm up, and a woodsprite landed on it.

“It seems I'm not the only one who has chosen you.” Neteyam smiled slightly, happy to see that the pure and sacred spirits were on your side.

The next few days passed without much trouble. You continued to meet Neteyam at the top of your hill every morning, as a little ritual before starting the day. As a natural reaction to what you had heard, your behavior towards Neteyam's parents became colder, more distant. You were still polite and relatively friendly, but nothing more.

However, as time passed, a singular tiredness began to consume you slowly. No matter how much sleep you gave yourself, you felt continually down. This situation worried your mother, who, despite being a doctor, had no expertise in human medicine. She kept a close eye on you, putting her hand on your forehead to monitor your temperature, but your condition seemed to be getting worse by the day.

Your fatigue was soon followed by weight loss, your cheeks gradually hollowing out, your bones becoming more visible without any clear explanation for your sudden condition. Neteyam was not fooled either, he was also worried to see you in this state and had repeatedly offered to speak to his grandmother, Mo'at, who knew the flowers and herbs of Pandora better than anyone else and whose knowledge was equal to that of the greatest Olo'ektan of the Tawkami clan. But you always refused, not wanting to give Jake and Neytiri another argument to chase you away.

One morning, as the sun was about to emerge from the horizon, you tried to climb to the top of your hill to meet Neteyam who was about to land on his ikran. But as you climbed the steep path, your legs began to feel heavy and your already diminished energy flew away like a feather in the wind. You tried to keep going, determined to reach the top, to see Neteyam, but, exhausted, you ended up stumbling down the path in the opposite direction. Just as you were about to pass out, a voice called out to you softly. Neteyam had run to you after seeing you from the sky, his facial expression reflecting the immense concern he felt.

You were thin and fragile, your skin pale and clammy. Neteyam led you back to his camp, to his grandmother's hut, hoping it wasn't too late to help you.

As he approached the hut, he saw Jake Sully standing outside, a worried look on his face. "What happened?" Jake asked as Neteyam approached.

"I found her on the hill," Neteyam replied, his voice heavy with concern. "She's sick and in pain. I think she broke something."

Mo'at sat quietly by your side, her eyes closed in concentration as she prayed to Eywa for the health and safety of her patient. She had prepared a number of herbal concoctions to help strengthen your body and boost your immune system, and she carefully administered them one by one.

Neteyam stood nervously by your side, watching as Mo'at worked. He had tried to speak to his father about your condition, but Jake had been too consumed with the preparations for the ceremony to pay much attention. Neteyam was worried about you, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right.

As the day passed and the sun began to set, Mo'at placed a gentle hand on your belly. She frowned, feeling something unsettling beneath her fingertips. She turned to Neteyam with a grave expression.

"Neteyam," she said, her voice heavy with concern. "Your mate is with child."

Neteyam's eyes widened in shock. "A child?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mo'at nodded gravely. "It is early yet, and it is small. But it is there, and it is growing."

Neteyam's mind raced as he tried to process this information. He had always known that you were not as strong as the Na'vi, and he had worried about your ability to survive. But a child? He had never even considered the possibility.

As he stood there, trying to come to terms with this revelation, Mo'at placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Do not worry," she said softly. "Eywa will guide us and protect your mate and your child. We will do everything we can to ensure their safety and well-being."

Neteyam nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over him at Mo'at's words. How could his mate be with child? They had never made love, and he couldn't fathom any other possibility.

As he sat lost in thought, his mind raced with possibilities. He immediately went back to the night under the Tree of Voices, when the woodsprites had surrounded them. Could that have had something to do with your sudden pregnancy?

Because of the complex and unprecedented nature of the child's conception, Mo'at insisted on keeping you under observation in her hut. At the time, when she told you that a child was growing in your belly, you didn't believe her, thinking that your mind was playing tricks on you. However, as the days passed and your belly grew, the news became more and more real.

Your mother was not happy about this news and when she came to exchange your exopack with another one, she was shocked by your situation. She entered under the hut, her face distorted by anger. "What does this mean? My daughter is pregnant and you're standing there watching calmly," she shouted at Neteyam who was standing beside you.

Neteyam raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "I understand that you are upset, but try to understand that it was not intentional. We never...I am just as confused as you are about how this happened."

Your mother's expression softened as she turned to you. "Are you sure you're pregnant?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. You nodded, tears streaming down your face.

"I don't know how it happened either, but I'm sure I'm carrying a child."

Mo'at, who was quietly preparing herbal concoctions in a corner of the hut, spoke up. "It is possible that the child was conceived under the tree of voices. The woodsprites are known to bless couples who pray to Eywa under its branches."

Your mother let out a sigh of frustration. "This is all so confusing. I just want what's best for my daughter."

Neteyam stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "I also want what's best for her. I will do everything in my power to keep her and the child safe and happy."

Your mother looked at Neteyam with a mixture of anger and gratitude. "I hope you mean that," she said before turning to leave the hut. Neteyam watched her leave before turning back to you and taking your hand in his.

This pregnancy was rapid, in just three months your belly had swollen so much that you could hardly move without the help of another person. Thanks to Mo'at's care, your fatigue had decreased and your physical condition had clearly improved so much that she allowed you to escape her surveillance for an evening.

With Neteyam, you had not gone very far for fear of not being able to return. You had simply settled in the heights of the camp, together, far from prying eyes. Your heavily pregnant belly sticking out in front of her, Neteyam was sitting beside you, his hand gently resting on the roundness of your belly as he spoke softly to the baby growing within you.

"You are my little miracle, my son," he whispered, his eyes filled with love and wonder. "I will do everything in my power to protect you and your mother. You are both the most precious things in the world to me."

You smiled up at Neteyam, your hand covering his as you both felt your baby's movements. “I can’t believe how much he has grown,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “I can feel him kicking and moving inside you. It’s like he’s already a part of us.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” you answered softly. “I know he’s going to be strong and brave, just like his father.”

Neteyam leaned down and kissed your forehead, his eyes full of love. “I promise to always be there for him, to protect him and guide him. He will always be my greatest treasure.”

Your heart swelled with love, and tears welled in your eyes, as you listened to Neteyam’s words. You knew without a doubt that he would be a devoted and loving father to your child.

As the moments ticked by, Neteyam and you lay together in peaceful silence, your love for each other and your unborn child filling the air around you.

-----

Neteyam paced outside of Mo'at's hut, his heart racing with anxiety. He couldn't bear to hear the sound of your screams echoing through the air. Every time you cried out in pain, his heart seemed to stop. Jake, who had been standing beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "It's going to be alright, son. Your grandmother knows what she's doing."

But Neteyam couldn't shake the feeling of dread that seemed to be settling in his chest. He couldn't imagine life without you, and the thought of losing you during childbirth was almost too much to bear. Finally, the screams stopped, and Neteyam froze. For a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was certain that his worst fears had come true.

But then Mo'at appeared in the doorway, a wide smile on her face. "You have a son, Neteyam. A strong, healthy son."

Neteyam walked into Mo'at's hut, his heart racing with excitement and nerves. As he approached the bed, he saw you, covered in sweat and tears, holding a tiny bundle in your arms. He rushed to your side, taking your hand in his own.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice shaking with emotion.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you smiled up at him. "We have a son," you whispered.

Neteyam's heart swelled with love and pride as he looked down at the small, blue-skinned baby nestled in your arms. He had a head full of jet-black hair, and big, bright eyes that seemed to take in everything around him. His tiny fingers were wrapped around your thumb, holding on tight.

Neteyam reached out a hand, gently brushing his son's fingers open so he could stroke his soft skin. "He's beautiful," he whispered, tears welling up in his own eyes.

You smiled at him, your own tears of joy and exhaustion mixing together. "He looks just like his father. He's our little miracle,” you said softly.

Neteyam leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then to the top of his son's head. He knew that from that moment on, everything in his life would revolve around these two people, and he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his days loving and protecting them.

-----

Neteyam stood behind his son, his strong arms wrapped around the small child as he gently guided his hands on the bow. A sense of pride and nostalgia was swelling in his chest. He remembered the day his own father had first taught him how to hold a bow, the weight of it in his hands feeling like a rite of passage. The five year old looked up at his father with wide, curious eyes, taking in every movement and instruction with eagerness.

"That's it, my little hunter," Neteyam said with a soft smile. "Just like that. Now, let's see if you can hit the target."

The little boy nodded determinedly and focused on the distant target, taking a deep breath before releasing the arrow. It flew straight and true, hitting the center of the target with a satisfying thud.

Neteyam beamed with pride as he lifted his son off the ground, swinging him around in a joyful embrace. "Well done, son! You have the makings of a great hunter."

As they practiced together, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the clearing. Neteyam couldn't help but sneak glances at you, who were watching them with a soft smile on your face. He knew that you were just as proud of your son as he was, and it warmed his heart.

As they wrapped up their lesson for the day, Neteyam lifted his son into his arms, giving him a warm embrace.

"I'm so proud of you, my little warrior," he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on his son's forehead.

The little boy giggled and snuggled closer, and Neteyam knew that this was exactly where he was meant to be - with his family, surrounded by love and joy.

[opencommunion]

When I refer to zionists as textbook genocide denialists, btw, I'm talking about literal textbooks I was assigned in my genocide studies classes. Here's an excerpt from one, Genocide: A Comprehensive Introduction by Adam Jones, detailing common genocide denialist arguments. I've bolded arguments that I've personally heard from zionists (including ‘neutral’ fence-sitters, who are on the side of the oppressor by default) — during the current Gaza genocide, but also in reference to the entire history of the genocidal zionist occupation. It's important to learn to recognize these arguments and call them what they are, genocide denial, rather than excusing denialists as simply misinformed or misguided.

"Among the most common discourses of genocide denial are the following: 'Hardly anybody died.' Reports of atrocities and mass killings are depicted as exaggerated and self-serving. ... Photographic and video evidence is dismissed as fake or staged. Gaps in physical evidence are exploited, particularly an absence of corpses. Where are the bodies of the Jews killed by the Nazis? (Incinerated, conveniently for the deniers.) Where are the bodies of the thousands of Kosovars supposedly killed by Serbs in 1999? (Buried on military and police bases, or dumped in rivers and down mineshafts, as it transpired.) When the genocides lie far in the past, obfuscation is easier. Genocides of indigenous peoples are especially subject to this form of denial. In many cases, the groups in question suffered near-total extermination, leaving few descendants and advocates to press the case for truth. 'It was self-defense.' 'The onset of [genocidal] killing,' wrote Jacques Sémelin, 'almost always seems to involve this astounding sleight of hand that assimilates the destruction of civilians with a perfectly legitimate act of war. From that moment on, massacre becomes an act of self-defense.' Murdered civilians - especially adult males – are depicted as 'rebels,' 'brigands,' 'partisans,' 'terrorists.' The state and its allies are justified in eliminating them, though unfortunate 'excesses' may occur. Deniers of the Armenian genocide, for example, play up the presence of armed elements and resistance among the Armenian population – even clearly defensive resistance. ... Genocide may also be depicted as an act of pre-emptive self-defense, based on atrocities, actual or alleged, inflicted on the perpetrator group in the past – sometimes the very distant past. Sémelin, for example, has explained Serbs’ 'insensitivit[y] to the suffering they caused' in the Balkan genocide of the 1990s in terms of their inability to perceive any but 'their own woes' ... A substrategy of this discourse is the claim that 'the violence was mutual.' Where genocides occur in a context of civil or international war, they can be depicted as part of generalized warfare, perhaps featuring atrocities on all sides. This strategy is standard among the deniers of genocides by Turks, Japanese, Serbs, Hutus, and West Pakistanis – to name just a few. In Australia, Keith Windschuttle used killings of whites by Aboriginals to denounce 'The Myths of Frontier Massacres in Australian History.' ... Sometimes the deniers seem oblivious to the content of their claims, reflecting deeply embedded stereotypes and genuine ignorance, rather than malicious intent – as with the CNN reporter who blithely referred to the world standing by and 'watch[ing] Hutus and Tutsis kill each other' during the Rwandan genocide of 1994.

'The deaths weren’t intentional.' The difficulties of demonstrating and documenting genocidal intent are exploited to deny that genocide occurred. The utility of this strategy is enhanced where a longer causal chain underpins mass mortality. Thus, when diverse factors combine to cause death, or when supposedly 'natural' elements such as disease and famine account for many or most deaths, a denialist discourse is especially appealing. It buttresses most denials of indigenous genocides, for example. Deniers of the Armenian and Jewish holocausts also contend that most deaths occurred from privations and afflictions that were inevitable, if regrettable, in a wartime context – in any case, not genocidal.

'There was no central direction.' Frequently, states and their agents establish deniability by running off-duty death squads, or employing freelance forces such as paramilitaries (as in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Darfur), criminal elements (e.g., the chétés in the Armenian genocide), and members of the targeted groups themselves (Jewish kapos in the Nazi death camps; Mayan peasants conscripted for genocide against Mayan populations of the Guatemalan highlands). State attempts to eliminate evidence may mean that documentation of central direction, as of genocidal intent, is scarce. Many deniers of the Jewish Holocaust emphasize the lack of a clear order from Hitler or his top associates to exterminate European Jews. Armenian genocide denial similarly centers on the supposed freelance status of those who carried out whatever atrocities are admitted to have occurred.

'There weren’t that many people to begin with.' [*] Where demographic data provide support for claims of genocide, denialists will gravitate towards the lowest available figures for the targeted population, or invent new ones. The effect is to cast doubt on mortality statistics by downplaying the victims’ demographic weight at the outbreak of genocide. This strategy is especially common in denials of genocide against indigenous peoples, as well as the Ottoman genocide of Christian minorities.

'It wasn’t/isn’t genocide, because ...' Here, the ambiguities of the UN Genocide Convention are exploited, and combined with the denial strategies already cited. Atrocious events do not qualify as 'genocide' … because the victims were not members of one of the Convention’s specified groups; because their deaths were unintended; because they were legitimate targets; because 'only' specific sectors of the target group (e.g., 'battle-age' men) were killed; because 'war is hell;' and so on. 'We would never do that.' Collective pathological narcissism occludes recognition, or even conscious consideration, of genocidal culpability. When the state and its citizens consider themselves pure, peaceful, democratic, and lawabiding, responsibility for atrocity may be literally unthinkable. In Turkey, notes Taner Akçam, anyone 'dar[ing] to speak about the Armenian Genocide ... is aggressively attacked as a traitor, singled out for public condemnation and may even be put in prison.' In Australia, 'the very mention of an Australian genocide is … appalling and galling and must be put aside,' according to Colin Tatz. 'A curious national belief is that simply being Australian, whether by birth or naturalisation, is sufficient inoculation against deviation from moral and righteous behaviour.' Comedian Rob Corddry parodied this mindset in the context of US abuses and atrocities at Abu Ghraib prison near Baghdad. 'There’s no question what took place in that prison was horrible,' Corddry said on The Daily Show. 'But the Arab world has to realize that the US shouldn’t be judged on the actions of a ... well, we shouldn’t be judged on actions. It’s our principles that matter, our inspiring, abstract notions. Remember: just because torturing prisoners is something we did, doesn’t mean it’s something we would do.'

'We are the real victims.' For deniers, the best defense is often a strong offense. With its 'Day of Fallen Diplomats,' Turkey uses Armenian terrorist attacks against Turkish diplomatic staff to pre-empt attention to the Turkish genocide against Armenians. In the case of Germany and the Nazi Holocaust, there is a point at which a victim mentality concentrating on German suffering leads to the horrors that Germans inflicted, on Jews and others, being downgraded or denied. In the Balkans, a discourse of genocide was first deployed by Serb intellectuals promoting a nationalist–xenophobic project; the only 'genocide' admitted was that against Serbs, whether by Croatians in the Second World War (which indeed occurred), or in Kosovo at the hands of the Albanian majority (which was a paranoid fantasy). Notably, this stress on victimhood provided powerful fuel for unleashing the genocides in the first place." * Zionists make two demographic claims to deny genocide, and specifically to deny the Nakba: the first parallels what Jones says here — that there weren't many (or even any) Palestinians ("Arabs") in Palestine to begin with, and/or mass expulsions were actually voluntary migration. The second is a reversal, where zionists point to demographic data and claim that Palestinian population growth must mean genocide never occurred (as if genocide survivors aren't capable of having children). For further reading on Nakba denial specifically, Nur Masalha's work is a good place to start, especially The Palestine Nakba (2012), Politics of Denial (2003), A Land Without A People (1997), and Expulsion of the Palestinians (1992).

[n3xii]

pick a card - what do they feel about you?

this pick a card is intended for people in relationships or have romantic interests, it will tell your energy towards them, their energy towards you and what you share. dont force anything to resonate if it simply doesnt make any sense for your situation.

i do personal readings as well check my pinned post for details! one question readings coming soon <3

pile one- red heels

your energy: three of pentacles reversed

their energy towards you: 4 of cups

shared energy: 10 of cups

With the Three of Pentacles reversed representing your energy, there may be a sense of disorganization, lack of collaboration, or difficulty in working together effectively within your connection. This card signfies a lack of communication or feeling of working on the same page. You may be experiencing challenges or delays in building a solid foundation or achieving mutual goals with this other person. This card suggests that there may be a need to reassess your approach to teamwork and cooperation, as well as to address any underlying issues or conflicts that may be hindering your communication. The Four of Cups representing their energy towards you suggests that they may be feeling emotionally distant or disengaged in the relationship. I pulled the 6 of pentacles reversed to clarify the 4 of cups, honestly im getting that this person is not as invested as you are. the dynmics here are showing up unequally, and this is reflecting in the communication and energy of the connection. They may be experiencing a sense of discontentment or boredom, possibly feeling unfulfilled or uninspired by the current dynamics between you. It's possible that they are longing for something more meaningful or satisfying, i feel like they want more from this partnership but arent getting it, so they became disengaged. They may be struggling to find clarity or motivation. the 6 of pentacles reversed is telling me that they need to put in more investment in this connection so that they can get what they want out of it, instead of being disengaged. Despite the challenges however, the Ten of Cups as the shared energy between you both signifies a deep potential for emotional fulfillment, harmony, and happiness within the relationship. This card represents the ultimate joy and contentment that comes from sharing love and connection with another person. Together, you and this person have the opportunity to experience profound unity, love, and emotional abundance. This card suggests that your relationship has the potential to bring you both immense happiness and fulfillment, provided that you both willing to work through any challenges and nurture your connection with care and dedication. both people have to be invested, and both people need to be communicative about their role in the connection.

Pile two- red mansion

your energy: nine of wands

their energy towards you: the world reversed

shared energy: justice reversed

Your energy towards them is represented by the Nine of Wands, which suggests a sense of defensiveness, caution, and resilience towards this person. You may be feeling guarded or protective of yourself in the connection you have, perhaps due to past hurts or fears of being hurt again. The Nine of Wands indicates that you have been through challenges and obstacles, and you are now standing strong and resilient, but you may also be wary of fully opening up emotionally to this person. The World reversed representing this person's energy towards you suggests that they may be feeling incomplete or unfulfilled in the connection. They may be experiencing a sense of stagnation or inability to move forward, possibly feeling stuck or restricted in some way. The World reversed can indicate a lack of closure or resolution, indicating that they may be grappling with unresolved issues or unfinished business that is affecting their ability to fully engage with you. With Justice reversed as the shared energy between you both, there may be a sense of imbalance, injustice, or disharmony in the connection yall have. This card tells me that theres a shared energy surrounding fairness, honesty, or integrity that need to be addressed. There may be a lack of accountability or mutual respect, leading to conflicts or power struggles within the relationship. It's essential to address any underlying issues of injustice or imbalance and work towards connection where you dont have to feel guarded or cautious for yourself.

Pile three- red necklace

your energy: judgment reversed

their energy towards you: the lovers

shared energy: knight of cups

The judgement reversed here indicates a reluctance or resistance to embracing change. You may be struggling with feelings of self-doubt or indecision, which could be affecting your ability to fully engage with your partner. Judgment reversed suggests that you may be hesitant to confront issues or make necessary decisions, leading to a sense of stagnation or uncertainty towards this person..i pulled the death card as clairfication, this tells me that theres been a cycle that has come to an end in this connection, and this judgement reversed is telling me that you may be resisting this new chapter. you need to embrace what has changed and confront any decisions you need to make.

Their energy towards you is represented by The Lovers, which talks about a deep sense of connection, harmony, and mutual attraction. their energy towards you symbolizes a strong bond and romantic partnership based on love, passion, and compatibility. This tells me that they see you as their ideal partner or soulmate, feeling deeply drawn to you on both a physical and emotional level. Their energy towards you indicates a desire for unity and intimacy as well as good communication.

The Knight of Cups as the shared energy between you both signifies a romantic and idealistic atmosphere in your connection. This card represents a passionate and romantic energy, where both partners are swept up in the intensity of their emotions and desires. Together, you and your partner share the energy of the romantic journey, both are leading with your emotions and both are willing to communicate them. This knight of cups here tells me that although you both share mutual feelings, there is still room for them to develop more in the future.

[prophet-rebellion]

Jolene's Emergency Vet Visit

Description posted from GoFundMe Campaign:

So for those of you who gave followed me (and maybe seen the update) you'll know Salem has been missing for almost 6 months.

She was my ESA, and given my declining mental health, I didn't have much choice but to get a new ESA.

Enter miss Jolene Macchiato L. Whom I adopted almost two months ago and have whole heartedly decided to keep after realizing just how well we mesh.

You may also know I've been in the hospital the last few days - staying with my roommate who was admitted. I've been coming home to feed the cats and (unsuccessfully) treat them for ear mites. My new roommate was dog sitting and he brought fleas and ear mites into our home.

During this time, Jolene went to the bathroom on my bed multiple times. I at first chalked it up to stress and was told to keep an eye on here. Less than a day of being back from the hospital and her stool is light in color, runny, and most terrifyingly, has blood in it.

This is no longer an issue of stress, but could be a major intestinal/stomach problem when mixed with her inability to wait and use her litterbox. On top of that, she was running around like she was in pain, or something was wrong prior to going.

My second job is not a sure thing yet - it has been more than two weeks since the company reached out to me - and I have been looking for more. The money I thought I won was more a scam to get me down to the car dealership (which by the way, I hated as is because of the older man behaving increasingly grossly and inappropriate towards me).

My funding for Salem has stopped at this point - I have done every physical thing I can to find and bring her home. And now I need to focus on the new feline in my care.

I am taking Jolene to the vet tomorrow and using my new credit card - but there are limited funds and paying it back is my current concern when I have payments taking up to the 1,000s combined due these next two months.

I am setting it to $550 for now (because they take a portion), but the price my change depending on what the vet says and what is wrong.

I know she still need to get treated for ear mites ($300 on it's own) because the current medications I've been using are not working."

This is my fundraiser.

Additional pictures of her adoption papers added on here as well proving when I got her. JOLENE IS A REGISTERED ESA NOW.

Jolene as far as I have been told is two years old, though she is very small for her age. She is a sweet heart though she was likely on the streets for a most of not all her life before she was taken to the shelter and I adopted her a month later.

She is a sweet cat that just wants to check and make sure that you're okay. She'll cuddle. She doesn't meow but she does trill and sound like yoshi.

She just wants to make friends with everyone. And if you're not petting her enough then the grabs your hand and brings it right to her face as she stands on her back legs.

This is the last fundraiser I'm making. Ask anyone I know in real life and they'll tell you just how much I despise asking for help. I want to be able to do things on my own. But until I get one bite from the hundreds (literally) of jobs I've applied to as a secondary then I'm at a loss. I can't afford to wait and save up for this vet Visit - not when her health is on the line.

I can post a picture of her at the vets office tomorrow as well to confirm, along with the update of what they set.

GoFundMe

PayPal

Venmo

Currently $750/$750

UPDATE - 08.02.2023

UNDER THE CUT

We went to the vet today.

TL:DR - she is on medications for the next two weeks, roughly. She did very good at the vet and was very brave. $500 was close, it will come out to be roughly $700 all together after ear mite treatment; we are holding off for now until the other cat in the house can be treated or they will just jump between them, which gives some more time to get there funds. But the over the counter medications are not strong enough to fight the infestation, and depending on severity, it could lead to long term health problems.

So I changed it from $550 -> $750 (again, because they take a processing fee). I also added in there roughly $200 that had been sent from PayPal and Venmo to give a more accurate show off current raised funds.

Below are screenshots of the update explaining more, along with pictures of Jolene at the vet today.

(Straight up, I almost cried because in the right two months that I have had her this was the first time she had crawled into my lap to lay down and cuddle with me.)

[postapocalyptic-cryptic]

Some fucked up jazzprowl. Hatred and war on the planet Cybertron.

---

The war has changed them all. Every single Autobot is colder than they were before all this, and Prowl’s not sure any of them could be called good mecha anymore. The things they’ve seen, the things they’ve been forced to do…

There’s something to be said for evidence of humanity.

Jazz wakes up screaming again.

No amount of altered recharge code or tweaks made to his recharge slab and cable have been able to get the night terrors under control, and he hasn’t had a restful night’s sleep in decacycles. Based on Prowl’s calculations, his systems are running at about 80% of their normal capacity, and his work has been suffering for it. Prowl has ordered Ratchet to prioritize his case until a solution is found.

In the dark, in the small hours of the morning, Prowl grabs Jazz’s wrists and pins him to the bed. “Stop,” he orders. “Stand down.”

Jazz keeps fighting him, kicking and thrashing and snapping his dentae together like he would bite if Prowl gave him the chance.

“I said, stand down.”

Jazz freezes, goes limp. Then, he bolts, and Prowl is left on his back wondering how he hasn’t been seriously injured during one of these episodes yet.

Jazz comes out of the washracks almost an hour later, optics tinged purple and tears drying on his face. He doesn’t offer any explanation.

“This has got to stop,” Prowl says when Jazz sits on the edge of the couch, not close enough to touch.

“Right, I’ll get right on that. Because I’m doing it on purpose.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t,” Jazz snaps, turning to face Prowl fully.

“I mean—”

“That I need to get myself under control?”

Prowl’s dentae click together when he shuts his mouth.

“Yeah,” Jazz continues. “I heard that conversation.”

“We can’t keep going like this, Jazz.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll find somewhere else to sleep. Somewhere I won’t disturb you with my loss of control.”

“Jazz,” Prowl begins, but Jazz is already up and out the door. Perfect.

Jazz doesn’t message him the next morning, and doesn’t respond to Prowl’s professional email about scheduling conflicts. Prowl checks the schedule and sees that it’s been fixed, so clearly, the message was received.

When Prowl greets Mirage and Blaster in the mess hall, he’s ignored. He can expect a lack of cooperation from SpecOps for the next few cycles, then. Typical. Petty, but typical.

Prowl is somewhat skilled at assessing people, figuring out their strengths and weaknesses. One of Jazz’s biggest problems is his inability to keep his work and personal lives separate.

Prowl doesn’t see Jazz until after lunch, at a meeting with Optimus, Ironhide, and Ratchet. Jazz proposes a ridiculous solution to their current security dilemma, and Prowl coolly shoots it down.

“Let’s hear Jazz out, Prowl,” Optimus says, and Prowl recoils. Talking to SpecOps is one thing. Bringing Optimus into their personal issues is another.

Jazz grins from across the room, and Prowl sneers.

[locke-writing]

Clarke Boetticher - A Character Study

Let's start with the Tumblr Special: how would Clarke react to meeting you?

Let's consider a scenario in which Clarke does not immediately attempt to get far away from you. He might appear guarded, aloof, or even hostile right off the bat. He may be reserved, speak cautiously, or keep conversations brief to avoid revealing too much about himself or his involvement with the cult. He could suddenly become agitated or withdrawn and not want to be around you. Small gestures of kindness and clarity are something only seen after trust has been built. He's rather enigmatic and introverted. Quiet, but in a calculated way.

The moment you know too much, he'll slit your throat, so try not to pry.

And I know there's the age-old question of, "is he romanceable/can I ship him with my character/myself, etc?"

The answer is circumstantial. This isn't a man with any kind of social skills nor has he known love. He tried that fiasco with Natalie and it ended with him hysterically laughing at her maimed corpse.

If, theoretically, you could get past his skittish eraticisms, constant disappearances, disloyalty and him awkwardly brushing off your affection... perhaps. He will choose the cult over you every time. This is a situationship mixed with sporadic one night stands at best.

Chances are, though, he would want nothing to do you with. You better be damn special, and even special might not get you very far with Clarke.

As Clarke's creator, I genuinely do not care what fanfiction you write with Clarke in it, but I beg you to try and stick to my narrative. He's like this for a reason. Also it would make me happy.

Will he get along with my OC?

Clarke likes normal people. The more normal, the better. He's so tired of seeing monsters every day... so that's up to you. Is your OC a creepypasta or a survivor? He'll go for the survivor in terms of a budding acquaintance (as long as they don't end up with a mark on their back from the Web.) It doesn't matter if killing your character will absolutely crush him, Clarke can't say no to the cult.

Where's Masky and Hoodie? Are they friends with Clarke like in the classic creepypasta?

Copyright means we can't use them so we had to write them out.

This lovely trio from the classics is not really affiliated with each other in Blessed Be The Wicked. As stated in a previous post, Brian is a human hellbent on revenge against the cult after Slenderman took his friends' lives away in the events of Marble Hornets, and he is currently hiding among them as a "proxy." He walks, talks and makes himself look like them, and they haven't noticed quite yet, but Brian is on borrowed time...

Tim, however... well, he ended up getting a little too messy and violent than the cult would've liked, so they fed him to Calibri.

Clarke doesn't really know who Brian is, and Tim is dead. RIP.

What about his Tourettes? Has anything changed with how that is written?

His Tourettes overlaps heavily with his OCD. Clarke's tics are more word-based and compulsory actions than twitching. E.g., checking the locks repeatedly, flipping light switches, echolalia, or repeating a word/phrase during speech. He struggles with his brain hanging on words and sounds during a conversation, which can quickly trigger his anger and frustration.

One might catch Clarke arranging his belongings in a certain pattern, counting his steps as he walks, or adjusting things to make sure they line up/are straight. Clarke's inability to stay clean most times severely bothers him.

Here's some other little bits of info:

Smells like dirt, sweat and metal... sort of like ozone. He showers whenever he can afford to spend extra time in a victim's house after he's finished the job; but it's mostly rinsing off briefly in an icy creek.

The guy will absolutely demolish a cheeseburger and shitty diner coffee. After eating what he could hunt for so long (which was very little,) he's pretty strung out on hunger.

Clarke was inducted into the cult at seventeen and is now twenty-six, meaning he has been a "proxy" for about nine years.

Clarke was written to this song.

Be prepared to bring your Rad-X because this man is a walking elephant's foot. Radiation poisoning (or slender sickness) is in his wake after spending so much time around the Spawn of the Web.

He's king of the Compartmentalized Emotions.

You might catch him doing dangerous shit because he doesn't know pain, and his dissociative coping response can lead him to believe what he is doing isn't real.

(If he believes it's real, he'll hate himself, and he can't do that yet, now can he?)

Has the occasional fit of Cotard's Delusion.

Clarke is a complete stoner and pays the monthly visit to Jingles for the good stuff.

He doesn't flinch. Ever.

Does not own a cell phone and is really bad with technology. Nine years in the woods will isolate a man from how fast tech has progressed.

[vodika-vibes]

Dogma AU ask you say? Ok hmmm… how about this! Dragon AU. Dogma is a dragon, who can shapeshifter into human form, and the local town offers a “human sacrifice to appease the monster”. But of course he’s not gonna have ANY of that nonsense! Also this is tooooootally not to make a pun of the game called “Dragon’s Dogma”

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

Summary: Rumor has it that a massive dragon is living in the mountains near the village your parents dragged you to after you refused a marriage agreement to a man who would have made them wealthy. Rumor has it that the only way to keep the village safe is to sacrifice a woman to the dragon. You were the most recent sacrifice…and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x F!Reader

Word Count: 1434

Prompt: Dragon AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: You know, I've been pretty anxious for most of the day, but the moment I started writing Dogma the anxiety faded. Is Dogma my comfort character? Who have I become? Anyway, I hope you like it!

You stand at the bottom of a massive tree, your hands on your hips are you glare up at the hint of blue and silver peeking through the leaves. “Dogma! Get down from there!”

There’s silence for a moment, and your scowl deepens.

“Stop acting like a child. You are fully grown and this isn’t cute.”

A large snout peeks out from between the leaves and huffs smoke in your direction. 

You sneeze and wave the smoke away from your face, “If you think that my inability to climb trees will keep me from coming up there after you, you’re wrong.” You warn.

The dragon retreats between the leaves.

“Fine. I warned you.” You call up to him. 

There’s no noise at all, save for the sound of wind through the leaves, and you sigh.

Honestly, he’s acting like a child. All you did was ask if he wanted fish for dinner and now he’s sulking like a toddler.

You kick your shoes off and jump so you’re able to grab the lowest branch. Carefully you walk yourself up so you’re able to swing your leg over the branch. You scan the next level of branches, and then stand on your current branch and reach for the next one that you can reach.

Dogma is watching you. 

You know he’s watching you without having to check.

You can almost feel his anxiety as you start scrabbling up the tree for the next branch. It’s not graceful or elegantly done, but you’ve never actually climbed a tree before.

“I can’t believe—oof,” You slip and almost fall, but manage to catch yourself, “—believe that you’re making me come up here to get you.” You grouse under your breath. 

I’m not making you do anything, ad’ika. Dogma’s voice echoes through your mind and you tilt your head in his direction.

“You’re acting like a child.”

I do not like fish.

“And that’s an excuse to throw a tantrum like a toddler? Woah!” You have to grab at the tree to keep from falling.

You’re going to get hurt.

“You’ll catch me if I fall.”

How am I to do that when you’re below me?

“That sounds like a you problem, Dogma.”

The dragon releases an explosive sigh, I think I preferred it when you were afraid of me.

“Nah, you didn’t.”

You can’t allow me a single delusion?

“It’s not healthy.” You retort with a grin.

You can almost hear him rolling his eyes, but then you’re distracted when the tree starts shaking and you end up having to sit on the branch you were standing on to not lose your balance.

Dogma climbs down the tree head-first, though he pauses when he reaches your level so you’re able to wrap your arms around his neck. He’s large enough that you can barely reach around him, but you’re secure enough that he’s comfortable moving with you latched to him like a particularly stubborn burr.

You think he’s going to set you on the ground as soon as he’s close enough to let you down, but you’re also not surprised when he doesn’t. Instead, he walks a little ways away from the tree and starts to shift.

Your feet lightly touch the ground and strong arms slide around your waist, and you find yourself looking into the handsome, human, face of Dogma. “Found you~” You tease.

“Oh, was I lost?” He teases in return, as he lightly bumps his forehead against yours.

You just shrug, a quiet laugh falling from you, “Are you feeling more like you now that you’re sulk is over?”

He bumps his nose against yours, “No fish.”

“Alright, alright. No fish.” You grin at him, “But that means, Dogma, that you need to go hunting.”

He sighs, “I know, I know.” Dogma pulls back slightly and presses his face against your neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell like me.”

“Is that a problem?” You ask with a grin.

“Not at all, love that you smell like me.” He pulls back and presses a light kiss against the tip of your nose, “Ready to go home?”

“Ready.” You reply, releasing him to give him so space to turn back into his true form. 

His dragon form is massive, large enough to carry you at least, with dark blue and silver scales, plus the black scales on his face that take the form of his tattoo when he’s in his human form.

In your opinion, he’s gorgeous in both forms.

Don’t forget your shoes. Dogma says as he nudges you with his snout.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his head, “I hate wearing them.”

You’ll regret it come winter.

“You’re right.” You admit with a sigh, releasing him long enough to grab your shoes from the base of the tree. A pointed look from Dogma as you pull them on, rather than just carrying them. “There, happy?”

Thrilled. Dogma replies as he lowers his head to allow you on his back. Make sure you hold on.

“I always do.” You wrap your arms around him tightly as he takes to the sky. The first time Dogma took you to the tree where he and his brothers tend to gather, you feared that it would be a bumpy ride.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t. When he flies, it’s very smooth. Smooth enough that you only have to hold on tight for take-off and landing. So, as soon as he’s soaring through the clouds, you loosen your grip and absently stroke his neck. 

That is not holding on, ad’ika.

“I know, but I’m not worried about falling.” You say lightly. For a long moment, you’re quiet, “Hey, Dogma?”

His head turns slightly so he’s able to look at you, What’s wrong?

“Nothing. I’m just curious about something.”

Go ahead.

“What happens on the next Winter Solstice?”

What do you mean?

“Just…when they make the next sacrifice to you.” You ask as you trace his scales, “What…what happens to me?”

Dogma is quiet for a long time, Hold on, ad’ika. We’re landing.

“Already?” You ask, though you do as he requests and wraps your arms tightly around him. He banks sharply and lowers to land next to a massive lake, and then he lowers his head to let you off. 

Slowly, you slide off his back and move so you’re standing in front of him, “Is something wrong?”

Dogma’s transformation is a lot quicker than last time, and you’re so surprised that you take half a step back as he steps into your space and brings his hands to press against your cheeks.

“Dogma?”

“Do you think that I’m going to make you leave when the winter solstice comes?” He asks, his eyes still have flecks of gold in them from how rapidly he shifted.

“I…well…” You avert your gaze, though he’s still holding your face pretty tightly. 

“Oh, ad’ika.” Slowly he presses his forehead against yours, “How long has this worry been on your mind?”

You shrug, “Not long. A couple of months.”

“That’s too long for you to be worried about this, ad’ika.” Dogma says, “So, this is me telling you, right here, right now. I’m not asking you to go anywhere at the next Winter Solstice. Or the one after.”

Your gaze drifts back to meet his, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Even though I’m…me?”

“I don’t want you to be anyone else.” Dogma replies, “You’re perfect, I’ll keep you forever, if you let me.”

“But I’m human.”

“You let me worry about that.” He leans in and gently presses his lips against yours in a soft and gentle kiss. And then another one, and another one.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You murmur against his lips, “What happens on the next Winter Solstice?”

His hand slides from your cheek to press against the back of your neck, “Ad’ika, the next Winter Solstice belongs to the Wolfpack.” Dogma murmurs against your lips, “So far as we’re concerned? Nothing happens the next winter solstice.”

You gasp as his lips crash against yours, and he walks you backward until your back bumps against a tree. “Dogma—”

You feel him smile against your lips, “I should get you back home.” He murmurs, “But how about a short break.”

“A break?”

A sly smile crosses his face as his hand slides to the laces of your dress, “Maybe not so short.”

Your face heats as he tugs the laces loose, “I suppose a break wouldn’t be too bad.” You reply with a small smirk of your own. Your hands move to cup his face, and your smirk turns into a genuine smile, “Dogma?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

And he freezes for a moment, his eyes wide and astonished, and then he grins and crashes his lips against yours once more. “I love you too.”

[moon932]

i think one of the more tragic parts of neuvillette’s character is the inherent inability for him to get closer to humanity by the way of his position. and i don’t mean just a dragon sovereign, we know that he is capable of empathizing and connecting with others- this is especially apparent with the melusines. ie, before he took up the mantle of the highly respected and revered iudex.

what i mean is that when focalors invited him to be chief justice, she ascribed him to a similar dilemma as furina. he’s the chief justice, and like anyone in a position of power, there is a certain distance and higher form of respect that will always be there. even when he’s not performing as the chief justice- he’s still expected to act like it and if he were to act out of character than he risks losing the respect his standing needs. and he’s very familiar with those consequences. which is more tragic when you realize that he wants to connect with his people. he wants to join in on banter and understand them in a way he wasn’t able to in the past.

i think this is especially apparent with both vautrin and later with the current fontaine gang. we’re told that neuvillette and vautrin were close when they worked together. this stands out to me more, because being told and shown neuvillette being close with people is a very big thing for his character because it’s so rare for him to form those connections. and while on the topic of vautrin, i think what happened with him and carole also made neuvillette’s resolve to stay impartial even stronger. because here is someone he trusted, and he had to exile him. i can’t even imagine how hard that was. add on to the fact that neuvillette thought vautrin hated him, and was okay with that thought? well maybe not okay with it, but was able to contend with it?

that brings me on to the next point, how many convicts hold grudges against neuvillette? how many families were torn apart because he needed to give out an impartial and apathetic verdict?

this is slightly a critique on hoyo, because they never want there to be what i call a ‘bad ending.’ any conflict we do have feels very surface level at best, and we never see anything deeper than baseline. and if there is a conflict, it’s always resolved with a neat little bow at the end. at least in the archon quests and world quests. don’t get me started on world quests.

but yeah, neuvillette is a character that is lonely by design y’know? even in his character stories, they always have an air of loneliness to them. here is this being who understand things about the world not even the gods do. and he can’t talk about it because what if the powers that be see it be to strike him down? this is purely based off of a dialouge line you get in your teapot, which is a landmine of character lore btw.

if i’m deranged enough i’ll ramble about wriolette at some point and touch on both the platonic and romantic connotations that relationship has, if you guys want. anyways, hope you enjoyed my deranged ramblings about neuvillette because i can guarantee it will happen again (ㅅ˘ㅂ˘)